#not one second did I feel unsafe

[alkibiadessuperfan]

I have to say it: I love imagine dragons and this whole hate train saying they are cringe and making fun of people for liking them is so stupid.

[vamptastic]

Quite frankly everybody I have seen talk about this that does not actually live or has lived in the region has been a dumb callous asshole about it. Yes on 'both sides' and the first person to tell me saying that makes me either an evil zionist or a race traitor self hating jew antizionist is getting exploded with my mind. More than anything I just hope this peace lasts and that we can all realize that the vast vast majority of this discussion has been people trying to come up with a peaceful future

[inkskinned]

what is with men being mad any time a woman raises her voice where did that even come from. someone posted a video of a small electrical explosion, and the top comment was of course the woman screams. the second comment is women try not to scream challenge, level impossible. i had to go back and watch the video again. there is, somewhat fainty, a little gasp emitted off-camera, more of a yelp than a scream. it is mostly lost in the crack of the explosion. afterwards, you hear her voice, shaken, say, are you okay?

i am helping one of my friends train her voice pitch lower, because she wants to be taken seriously at work. she and i do each other's nails and talk about gender roles; and how - due to our appearance - neither of us have ever been able to be "hysterical" in public. we both appear young and sweet and feminine. she is cisgender, and cannot use her natural voice in her profession because people keep saying she appears to be "vapid". we both try to figure out if our purposeful voice lowering is technically sexist. is it promoting something when you are a victim to it?

a storm almost sends a pole through a car window. in the dashcam, you can hear the woman passenger say her partner's name twice, crying out in alarm. she sounds terrified. in the comments, she is lambasted for her lack of calm. how is that even fucking helping?

in high school, i taught myself to have a lower voice. i had been recorded when i was genuinely (and righteously) upset; and i hated how my voice sounded on the phone speakers when it was played back. i was defending my mom, and my voice cracked with emotion. it meant i was no longer winning the argument: i was just shrieking about it.

girls meet each other after a long summer and let out a little joyful scream. this usually stops around 12-14, because people will not tolerate this display of affection (as it has the effect of being passingly annoying). something about the fact that little girls can't ever even be annoying. we are trained to examine each part of our lives (even joy) for anything that could make us upsetting and disgusting. they act like teenage girls are breaking into houses and shrieking you awake at 3 in the morning. speaking as a public school educator: trust me, it's not that bad, you can just roll your eyes and move on. it does not compare to the ways boys end up being annoying: slurs in graffiti, purposefully mocking your body, following you after you said no. you know, just boy things.

there's another video of a man who is not allowed to yell in the house, so he snaps his fingers when he's excited about soccer. the comments are full of angry men, talking about how their brother is unfairly caged. let him express himself and this is terrible to do to someone. eventually the couple has to address it in a second video: they are married with a newborn baby. he was trying not to wake the infant up. there is no comment on the fact women are not allowed to yell indoors. or the fact that it could have been really alarming or triggering for his wife. sometimes i wonder if straight men even like women, if they even enjoy being in relationships with them.

for the longest time, i hated roller coasters because it always felt inappropriate and uncomfortable for me to scream. one of my friends called me on it, said it was unusual i'm so unwilling. i had to go to my therapist about it. i don't like to scream because i was not raised in a safe situation, and raising my voice would have brought unsafe attention towards me. even when i am supposed to scream, it feels shameful, guilty. i was not treated kindly, so i lack a basic form of self-protection. this is not a natural response. it is not good that in a situation of high adrenaline - i shut up about it.

something very bad is happening, i think. in between all the beauty standards and the stuff i've already discussed - this one feels new and cruel in a way i can't quite express. yes, it's scary and silencing. but there's something about how direct it is - that so many men agree with the sentiment that women should never yell, even in an emergency - it feels different.

is the word shriek gendered automatically? how about shrill or screech? in self defense class, one of the first things they tell you is to yell, as loud and as shrilly as you can. they say it will feel rude. most women will not do this. you need to practice overcoming the social pressure and just scream.

most women do not cry out, even when it's bad. we do not report it. we walk faster. we do not make a scene. what would be the point of doing anything else? no matter what we do, we don't get taken seriously. it is a joke to them. an instagram caption punchline. we have to present ourselves as silent, beautiful, captivating - "valuable."

a woman is outside watching her kids when someone throws a firecracker at them. she screams and runs towards her children. in the comments, grown men flock together in the thousands: god. women are so annoying.

[a9saga]

the fucking week i have had in the last 24 hours

[dcxdpdabbles]

can you write the batfam going to amity due to *reasons* and alls well until Jason feels like he SHOULDNT go near since it’s Danny’s Haunt? Like how Crime Alley is ‘his’ Haunt? And batfam thinks he’s just being dramatic but uh, yeah he isn’t.

"I'm not going in there," Jason repeated, standing on the side of the highway, arms crossed over his chest and a stubborn scowl on his face.

"Jay, please get back in the van," Bruce sighed while the rest of the Waynes stared from their seats. They had originally all gotten off, but when the second eldest had started yelling, Bruce herded everyone back inside, including Dick.

No one knows why Jason was acting like this.

A few minutes earlier, he had napped comfortably in the far back of the large van Bruce had rented. The family had been on a cross-country road trip, where they all piled in together and let the GPA lead them to their final destination- Wayne Mountain Hotsprings. Alfred had the idea to practically kick everyone out of the manor to bond.

Members of their various teams would watch Gotham for the three weeks they would be gone. This week, Kon and Bart texted Tim updates. At first, the Waynes were not entirely up for the trip, but after a few hours of driving, they all enjoyed singing random songs and researching their vacation pick.

They each got to pick one random spot they wanted to stop at one the way- tourist trap or not- and Damian had been excited to go to "America's most haunted town." He had even been able to contact local ghost hunters who were excited to give them a tour. The Waynes would spend the night at the only hotel in the city and leave tomorrow morning.

That was the plan until Jason woke up screaming at the top of his lungs, "Pull over! Pull over! I can't go in there!"

It gave everyone a heart attack. Bruce had nearly driven into the other lane as Jason had been attempting to unbuckle himself and- were it not for Cass's quick reflection- fling himself from the moving vehicle. As soon as they found a safe spot to pull over, Jason leaped from the van and placed himself in front of the Welcome to Amity Park sign

A little up the road, they could see the city's outskirts. The Fentons, the acclaimed ghost hunters, were expecting them in twenty minutes. Damian was getting angsty.

"Can you explain why you can't go into Amity Park?" Bruce questions, stepping closer. "I won't make you go in there. I just need to know what's going on."

"Don't you feel that?" Jason asks, gesturing to the air around them. "It feels unsafe."

"What does?"

"The vibes," Jason said straightly, and Bruce's left eyebrow was spammed. "The vibes are choking."

Bruce takes another step closer, voice lowering into the familiar tone of comforting a scared civilian. "Jay what do you mean by that."

Jason opened his mouth only to snap his head upwards with a scream. "He's here!"

Everyone looked up—or at least those in the van by a window—only to see nothing. There was nothing there that could have freaked out Jason so much. The sun, maybe? Gotham wasn't known for its sunlight, and perhaps the fact that he grew up without it made it extra terrifying to the Gothamite.

Jason leaped behind Bruce, hiding like he did as a child. Now that Jay was taller than his father and buckler, it was a strange sight. "I'm sorry! I swear I wasn't going in!"

"Jaylad, what-"

"Ghost detected." The robotic voice of Damian's official ghost-hunting equipment made everyone freeze. The boy had opened the door of the van, escaping Duke's attempted grasp, but whatever he was going to say was cut off by the little machine in his hand.

It came from the Fentons' online store, and although it didn't work, Damian enjoyed walking around with it, searching for the paranormal. The rest of the family saw it as an age-appropriate make-believe, sighing in relief when he waved his little box around before deeming the area safe.

As it were, Damian waved the box again, letting the machine hum and bling as it landed on a particular spot in the sky. "Ghost detected. Ghost detected. Ghost located. Ghost is ten feet before you."

"Oh wow," An unknown voice said over the sound of rushing cars on the highway. Damian's eyes widen. "Haven't seen that design of the Fenton Finder in years. First edition, isn't it?"

Damian eyes are practilly sparkling as he puffs out his chest "It is! Are you a ghost?"

"Yeah." Suddently a glowing flouting transparent boy pops into thin air. No sound, no portal, not rush of air. Just one second he's there. He offers Damian a wide warm smile, that somehow makes his glowing green eyes menecing. "I'm Danny Phantom."

He turns his eyes back to Jason as Damian gapes at him. The boy had thought Phantom was a local urban legend. He has been decorating his room with "captured" images of Phantom for years. He turns to Tim, hissing for a pen and his photo binder.

"You." Phantom points at the cowering man. "Feel strange. You're overshadowed, but at the same time, there is no foreign soul in your body. What are you?"

"Um, I'm just here on vacation with my family-oh!" Jason words are cut off as Phantom flings himself at the pair. Before Bruce or Jason can react the ghost has his hands inside of Jason chest, ramaging around like it's a bag. Oddly enough, this makes Jason blush.

"Hmm. Yeah, there is no other ghost here. Are you haunting your own corpse?" Phantom floats upwards to stare into Jason's eyes. "Or are you a Halfa?"

"My own corpse," Jason gasps, but Bruce decides he's not about to let whoever this bothers his son, pushing Phantom back. Only somewhat surprised by the fact he made contact the hero's grunts

"Kindly keep your hands to yourself."

"Sorry," Phantom mutters, flouting back. He fidgets with his glowing white hair while shifting his feet. "I just wanted to be sure he was safe. You may enter."

And with another pop, he's gone.

Damian makes a sad whine in the back of his throat, holding a picture of a blurred image of Phantom and a pen. He flipped through the binder, attempting to find the clearest one while the ghost chatted with his father and brother. "I didn't get an autograph."

"There's always next time," Tim offered, patting the boy back as he led him towards his seat in the van again. You should keep that on your person so if you run into him again, we can get it signed for you quickly."

"Okay"

"Phew," Jason breathed, wiping the cold sweat from his forehead. "That was terrifying. Anyway, we should get going, I don't want to be late for the Fentons."

He ignored Bruce's look, walking back as if he hadn't held them up for nearly forty minutes because the vibes were bad.

Bruce stared as Jason skipped back to the van, feeling very old and single. Maybe he should try calling the blind date Alfred had attempted to set up for him. He needs some support in raising his children. He has too many white hairs as it were.

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ pretty tipsy ]❜

ft. logan howlett x f! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ he brings you home after a night out drinking┊2.5k words

setting: deadpool & wolverine (2024) worst! logan contains: alcohol & intoxication, this man is WHIPPED, age & size difference, emotional drunk human reader, ooc? calling him kitty

➤ author's note: idk what this is but it’s my longest logan piece yet because i have yet to write any more than a thousand words for him

tonight was one of the few nights logan could finally have some alone time. wade was going out for drinks with vanessa with the plan to stay over at her place, the ever so mysterious blind al was off doing her own thing, and mary puppins was resting peacefully in her little bed, tuckered out after a long day of playtime. he could finally get some long-awaited peace and quiet, a moment to himself to relax and breathe. while he’s grateful for the presence of others since he arrived in this dimension, he’s still a lone wolf at heart who treasures his privacy above all else.

humming a little tune from the eighties, he sunk into the beat-up leather couch with a beer in one hand and a lit cigar in the other, taking a long drag on it and preparing himself for a relaxing evening until his flip phone started ringing. when he opened it up to read the “wade wilson” contact name staring back at him, he rolled his eyes with a groan before answering.

“what the fuck do you want?”

“not even a ‘hello?’ damn bitch, okay then— well, we ran into some friends and had some drinks together, but one of them is pretty shit-faced right now and her phone is dead, could you pretty please with sugar on top come and pick her up?”

“the fuck? that’s not my problem, just call her an uber—” he stopped mid-sentence when he heard a familiar giggle in the background, one asking a different partygoer to have another drink with her, “is that the neighbor who lives at the end of the hallway?”

“yeah, it’s your little crush~! you recognize her from just her voice over the phone, oh my god, you have it bad wolfie!! well, if you don’t wanna come, then fine, whatever, but you know, it’s not unsafe for a pretty lady to be alone this late at night! some guy might just swoop her up, actually, there’s some guy asking for her number right now—”

“alright, alright, i’m coming! send me the address.” he nearly shouted into the receiver, putting out his cigar on the ashtray atop the coffee table and slipping on his jacket to leave the comfort of his shared apartment.

the night was chilly in comparison to the cozy warmth of the indoors and the bar was filled with loud chattering and cheers, the clinking of glasses, yelling at the game being televised, and the general buzz of extroverted fun on a weekend night. 

“ayyy, there he is! come here, peanut, sit, sit, sit, have a drink with us!”

logan hesitated, not because he would ever shy away from free booze but because he was here on a mission with one sole goal in mind (and because he wasn’t familiar with this particular group of people, he didn’t feel like socializing tonight) “no, it’s fine, i’m just here to take her home.” his voice was uncharacteristically mellow, finding you napping on the table with your arms folded to be a makeshift cushion for your head. 

you peeked at the man coming up next to you and your face changed from exhausted to ecstatic to upset in the span of a few seconds, “looggann!! how are you doing, i feel like i haven’t seen you in foreverr— how come every time i see you in the hall, you always run off, are you avoiding me? did i do something wrong?” you cling onto his hand and shake his arm, paying no attention to your friends giggling at your behavior in the background, pouting and tearing up. 

oh god, you’re an emotional drunk, that’s so cute. neither he nor wade could get drunk at all on account of their systems constantly cleaning out the effects of the alcohol as soon as it’s consumed, but when he drinks around others, it’s a trait he typically finds so annoying quickly becoming so endearing when worn by you.

“i’m not avoiding you, you haven’t done anything wrong,” he consoled in the most gentle voice a wolverine could muster, also cringing at the fact that he wasn’t half as discreet as he thought he was. it’s true, he has been avoiding you, but only because he couldn’t stand the way you made him feel, smoothing out the rough edges of his personality and making him feel stupid butterflies he was far too old to be feeling, not to mention the nonstop teasing from everyone else when they noticed the way he seemed to look at you from afar. it was as if he was a child who thought hiding from it would make it go away, but it has become apparent it has only grown stronger.

“you’re telling the truth?” you sniffled.

“yes, i am. come on, bub, let’s get you outta here. i’m here to take you home.”

you didn’t protest or try to convince him you weren’t wasted, knowing your limit had been reached, and slowly picked up your things to follow him out of the building. he allowed you to intertwine your arm with his, providing support to your unbalanced mind and stumbling legs since you couldn’t even walk straight.

“why would you drink so much if you’re such a lightweight?”

“how do you know i’m a lightweight? you weren’t there, i could have drunk an entire bathtub full of booze before you showed up!” 

“nah, i can smell it, there’s no way you drank anything more than a few pints.”

“oh, so the kitty is a dog now? i thought you were more cat-like this whole time, but i guess i was wrong.” 

“what?” they say what a person says when intoxicated comes from their soul and true thoughts with little to no filter, but he certainly wasn’t anticipating those words to come out of your mouth.

“you look like a kitty, you know? with the way your hair does the little swoopy things— do you wake up like that or do you need to style it? you act like one too, grumpy ass kitty.”

“don’t call me that, kid, i hear it enough from wade already.”

“i’ll stop calling you kitty when you stop calling me kid! i know you’re old as hell, but i’m a grown-ass adult!”

“yeah? well, you’re certainly not acting like one right now.”

you were silent for a minute, making him worry for a second that he offended you by calling you childish, but when he looked back down at you, you were simply staring in astonishment. “i’ve never seen you smile before! you look a lot more handsome, you should do it more often!”

was he smiling? he didn’t even notice, grinning ear to ear and revealing his pearly white teeth, chuckling at your ridiculous words. was this really the first time you saw him smile and heard him laugh? no wonder you assumed he was avoiding you, he was surprised you didn’t hate him just because of a misunderstanding.

it took some time to get you up all of the stairs to your floor without tripping, and logan was almost sad the night was over so quickly. even if the conversation was mostly one-sided and you were intoxicated with slurred words, he swears he listened to all you had to say between comedic bits, insightful knowledge, random bullshit, and found it all fascinating. luckily for him, his time with you wasn’t up yet as he watched you fumble with your purse and frown.

“oh, fuck… i lost my keys… oh no…” you slumped against the wall until you fell to the floor, feeling yourself starting to cry at this inconvenience with heightened emotions. 

“god, please don’t, not again…” he’s the absolute worst at comforting others, it isn’t his strong suit, and acknowledging this weakness seemed ten times more difficult when you were the one in need. “come on, you can sleep at my place for the night and charge your phone.”

“...really?”

“yes, come on.” 

you took his outreached hand and found yourself in his grasp again as he held onto your shoulder to steady you, unlocking the door and leading you into his shared apartment. he felt somewhat grateful that you were too drunk to notice how messy the site was, seating you on the couch as he got you a glass of water to sober up. you looked so out of place among it all, so young and feminine with your vibrant club clothing around all of the aging, scratched-up furniture and muted colors.

“thank you,” you murmur, downing the entire tall glass with a few gulps, “uh, where is the bathroom?” he directed you to where it was and allowed you to use it, quickly hearing you turn on the shower after a minute and just as quickly hearing you swearing in regret over the loud pitter-patter of the steaming hot water. “i’m never drinking again, why am i being so fucking stupid?!” 

“are you okay?” 

“yeah, except for the fact i forgot that i don’t have a change of clothes and i stepped into the shower with my current ones on because i forgot to take them off!” your voice cracked, feeling yourself starting to cry once again from yet another inconvenience. you were really just embarrassing yourself and couldn’t wait for this shitty day to be over.

he let out a sigh of relief, “god, don’t scare me like that— i’ll get you something, hold on, please don’t cry.” he could have stolen some of al’s clothing since she wouldn’t have noticed, or he could have stolen some of the clothes vanessa left behind after spending time with wade, but for some odd reason, he pulled out one of his canadian hockey jerseys for you. the fabric was soft and worn with time, smelling slightly of him and laundry detergent, and arguably the most comfortable thing he had at his disposal. “i’ll leave it outside the door, okay?”

“thank youu!!” (and thank god your underwear is still clean and dry enough to wear again, you have no idea what you would have done if you didn’t realize your mistake soon enough and stood under the water for long enough to be soaked to the bone.)

logan allowed his fatigued body to rest for a moment, sinking into the couch just as he did an hour ago in hopes of relaxation. what the fuck was he doing? since when did the wolverine play babysitter for drunk young women, walking them back to play guard dog against possible creepy men, letting them into his home, and lending them his clothing to wear? this was so uncharacteristic of him, he couldn’t think of a single person he was willing to do this for other than laura, but you certainly weren’t nearly as close to him as he was to her! lord, he’s so pathetic, he thinks he probably would have carried you back bridal style too if you asked him.

the water stopped and he waited for you to exit so that he could show you where you could sleep, but he could now see he didn’t need to. your apartment layouts are nearly identical, and it looks like your brain was switched onto autopilot after cleaning up, mindlessly strolling into his bedroom and plopping down on his mattress as if it were your own. (his shirt was practically a dress on you, falling to your mid-thigh and ill-fitted on your smaller frame, his eyes lingering on it for a second longer than what would have been polite.)

he leaned against the doorframe, watching you make yourself comfortable and preparing to stay there until the early afternoon with a banging headache. “are you comfortable? do you need anything else?”

you murmured something in response and stretched out your arms, making grabby hands and inviting him to join you, “come cuddle with me! herree, kitty, kitty, kitty~”

are you really calling a fifty-something-year-old, six-foot-tall killer mutant with adamantium bones and razor-sharp claws that come out of his knuckles ‘kitty’? yes, yes you are, and you’re going to scream into your pillow from embarrassment when you recall it the next day.

“i don’t do cuddles, princess,” he chuckled even though he intended to scoff. “and i already told you to quit calling me that.”

“pleaseee? pretty pleasee?” you chirped, eyes going big and round just like a puppy in a cartoon, begging him to humor you in this request.

are you truly a human, or are you secretly a mutant who has hypnotic powers? the answer is obvious, he’s just an old loser who apparently answers at your every beck and call now because all he could do is sigh, slip off his jacket, and get under the blanket with you. 

you rolled on your side and wrapped your arm around his body, nuzzling your face into his comforting touch and inhaling the mild scent of pine and tobacco. humming a satisfied “good night” and dozing off within a few minutes, you clung to him as tightly as a koala onto a branch, and he couldn’t separate himself from you without making you stir and whine. 

trapped in the embrace of a beautiful neighbor whom he possessed a soft spot for, wearing his clothing and laying in his bed, he would be trapped like this until morning it sounds like a dream to most men, but to logan, it’s the fear of getting attached and losing someone else important to him rearing its ugly head to the forefront of his mind. it scares him to think what could happen if he allowed himself this pleasure of becoming close to you, and yet when he admires your slumbering face, he feels like it would be okay and work itself out in the end somehow.

he fell asleep more quickly than usual when you held him, and for the first time in forever, he wasn’t tormented with horrid nightmares of the past that always plagued him before now. when he woke up, his weary soul was well-rested and energized, almost as if he was twenty years younger again. the wonders of a good night’s sleep, or perhaps, the wonders of being with you. 

it felt so… natural to wake up with you next to him.

you were practically a dead weight by now, not rousing in the least when he slowly got up to leave the bed. he did feel a little back about undoing the grasp you had on him though, felt a bit like abandoning you in a vulnerable state. he sauntered into the kitchen to brew a cup of coffee as per his routine, only to find the most annoyingly loveable scarred face sitting in a chair waiting for him, legs crossed and hands in his lap like a supervillain. 

“sooooo, how was your night, you smitten kitten? you dirty dog!” there was a stupid smirk on his face, trying his best to hold back a fit of giggles. he knows nothing suggestive happened and was just teasing, but he still wanted to hear him say that it was a wonderful night nonetheless and to thank him for playing matchmaker.

“shut the fuck up before i stab you again. don’t ruin this morning for me.”

[suguann]

✎. you've been on the run for a while. you knew someone would come eventually—but not him.

tags. fem!reader, old west era, bounty hunter simon, size difference, size kink, implied the reader's husband is a terrible human, accidental voyeurism, period-typical sexism, masturbation [18+ only]

masterlist

You’ve been running for months, first from your husband (the phantom grip of his hand still sending an ache through your wrist) and now as a wanted conwoman for stealing the clothes from an unsuspecting cowpoke who thought he was getting lucky. You can only imagine what Mama would say about trading your ruffled skirts for grass-stained trousers and boiled-leather suspenders.

(It’s unbecoming of a respectable woman, dear. Uncouth.)

She’d probably have a lot to say if she knew everything you’ve done to survive.

You hop from one place to the next only by the mere chance someone was willing to let a helpless woman accompany them on their travels. Nearly a month has passed since being stranded in a dusty old mining town after a man and his wife dump you off and leave you behind. Washoe’s a little gritty and not welcoming unless there’s money to spend.

It’s not exactly safe, not unsafe, either, but nobody asks questions as long as you keep your head down and play the part of a mourning widow just passing through.

You know you’ve overextended your stay when you can’t leave your room during the day without worrying about a noose and the open end of a barrel meeting you outside. 

(That your husband or that gun-waving cowpoke finally found you.)

Sleep practically clings to you like a second skin, but you don’t dare close your eyes—you can’t.

This is how you end up sitting in the corner of the saloon, using the last of whatever you have in your change purse to order something strong, something your husband kept locked away, and anything else he thought women shouldn’t have a part in. 

You don’t even realize that your eyelids begin to feel heavy, steadily blurring out the flickering lantern on the wall while you wait for your drink. 

You catch yourself once or twice before your head can hit the table, rapidly blinking away the exhaustion before your eyes slide to the swinging doors.

You should stay awake. 

You need to stay awake just a little bit longer—

Your luck runs out that day. 

It’s one thing to know it’d happen eventually, and something else to realize that you make it easy for him—the man with an infamous name and a faded black bandana covering half his face—how he walked into the saloon and scooped you up (all unladylike sleepy dead weight) out of the weathered booth without a fight.

When you’d woken up to find yourself trussed up and thrown over the back of his horse, you cursed him out with every word you could think of that would make Mama clutch her skirts. Your captor ignored you, only talking to you whenever he warned you he was about to set up camp. 

“Did my husband send you?” Acknowledging him after all this time tasted like pennies on your tongue.

The man, Simon Riley, had leaned back against his bedroll and tipped the brim of his hat over his eyes. “Go the fuck to sleep.”

That was several weeks ago. 

Now, you find yourself stranded in another state that’s more green and vibrant than anything you’re familiar with, stuck with a man who refuses to answer the questions you throw at him. He doesn’t talk outside a few cursory words you greedily latch onto. Anything’s better than silence and the sound of hooves hitting earth. 

The pace he keeps you at is exhausting. You complain about it enough until he moves you in front of him, tying your hands to the saddle's horn.

“I would strongly advise you to shut that mouth for the rest of the ride unless you want me to do something about that, too.” The low growl of his voice in your ear makes the fine hairs on the back of your neck stand up, muddling your brain.

You’re distantly aware you had something to say to that, but you don’t. 

And that is really saying something.

It’s because there’s someone he needs to meet in town—an errand that lawbreakers who run their mouths aren’t allowed to go on.

This is how you end up sitting in camp alone, twirling around a knife he gave you solely for emergencies. 

(Surprise, sharp and quick through your middle, when he tosses his pocket knife into the grass beside you. “What’s to stop me from leaving?”

You could’ve sworn he rolled his eyes. “Will you?”

It doesn’t seem worth dignifying with a reply. You don’t want to travel alone, and there’s a high possibility of getting lost, finding yourself saddled up with worse company than the one you’re stuck with.

Until he evidently catches you again.)

He’s a lot nicer than you first gave him credit for—if only by a fraction—not that you know much about Simon other than what you overheard from gossip circles before you became Mrs. Thornton. Afternoons spent sipping tea laden with honey and lounging around a table full of cakes in the sun parlor while wealthy women talked behind their lace-covered hands to hide secret smiles you were too naive to understand. 

Trying not to stare at the bulge of his arms with thin pink scars—unlike the men you’re used to who got through life with a silver spoon hanging from their mouth—as he places his saddle back on his horse, you think you finally know what they smiled about.

You learn those scars also litter his torso from the time you accidentally walked upon him mid-way through putting his trousers on after washing in the river. It’d been too dark for you to see much else, and you quickly returned to camp before he could say something that would embarrass you both. 

Then, of course, tucked away into your bedroll, you can’t help wondering what the rest of him would have looked like if you had stayed a second longer. 

If his jaw is sharp or soft behind that mask he insists on wearing—that’s if he’d let you see at all. 

Simon’s always so serious that it’s often hard to determine whether he’s merely tolerating your existence until he can get rid of you or if he’s unused to traveling accompanied for so long. It’s not as if he goes out of his way to make pleasant conversation with you for you to assume otherwise.

You look off in the direction where he disappeared into the dense line of trees hours ago, wondering if you should go out looking for him (mainly because you’re hot and sticky from the humidity) despite his order to stay put. 

But after four hours turns into five, you head off, searching for something to help cool you off.

Luckily, unlike the heavily eroded lands you’re used to, there isn’t any water shortage in a place that sees rain three times a day, so it doesn’t take long to find a lake. You set your knife down on the stone-covered beach, followed by your boots, until you’re left in nothing but your undergarments. 

The water is icy cold and laps gently at your feet when you step in. You can’t find it in you to complain as the heat from the day slowly washes away the further you walk in and find a wide ledge to sit on. 

Your thoughts drift back to Simon, incessant and intruding even though you shouldn’t be thinking about him while wet and naked. And suddenly, you can picture it: his hands replacing yours as they trace along your neck. You have a feeling they’re probably rough and scarred from years of living hard and gunslinging, extracting the readily available knowledge that they’re big enough to encase your waist.

He could maneuver you around however he wants (you know this), and you feel dizzy just thinking about it.

Sighing, you sink deeper into the water while your hands smooth over the tips of your breasts and down your stomach. 

You wish you could see him without violating whatever personal preservations hide him from the rest of the world. Instead, you’re left with your imagination—the benefits of being a married woman and the little experience you have in the bedroom finally coming into play. 

Closing your eyes, you picture what he might look like under those sun-weathered leathers, knowing that the broadness of his shoulders isn’t only due to his vest and holsters but also from how his job has shaped him.

Your hands travel lower, fingers brushing through the creamy, soft wetness between your legs, evidence of what Simon does to you even when he’s not around. A moan, too high and breathy, slips past your lips as you use your middle finger to circle your clit in slow, clumsy swirls from lack of practice and patience that spreads warmth through your middle despite the cold water. 

It’s good, your fingers discovering places your husband always ignored—too many nights spent with your hand under your nightgown long after he’d tucked his cock away and gone to sleep—but probably don’t compare to the ones you’ve caught yourself staring at far too many times. 

They don’t fill you nearly enough, unlike how you know Simon’s would—thick and unrelenting. Rough and long, reaching deep enough to make you breathless.

Your breath hitches from pinching the tight, sensitive peak of your nipple until you feel a slight sting, and then it slips out, a tiny thing that’s only audible to your ears—Simon—a secret you now share with the lightning bugs and crickets.

“Dirty, no good rotten—” he’d tell you for thinking such lewd thoughts about him, for sinning so easily. Maybe you are, for getting so worked up over a man who isn’t your husband (no matter how terrible a husband he may be).

A man who’s so big that he makes you feel small, the type that gives before he takes. It’s enough to make you work your hand faster—your body vibrating from the chill of the water and the ache between your trembling thighs.  

Fantasies aren’t enough to sate the deep longing in your chest. Yet you’re slipping over the edge of ecstasy before taking your next breath—all of it builds up and gradually crests inside you like the lake rippling against the shore.

Afterward, it leaves you feeling soft and blurred around the edges, a watercolor painting drying under the sun while you wait for your rapid heartbeat to slow.

You don’t realize your eyes have fallen shut until they flutter open, and you’re startled to find Simon standing at the shoreline, his chest heaving as if he ran here. 

(Though he probably did to see if you took the opportunity to leave.)

You’re glued to your spot on the rock, suddenly struck with the mortifying realization that he’d seen you come—that he possibly heard you cry out his name so intimately.

You watch him remove his hat and hang it on a branch with wide eyes. Followed by his undershirt, guns, and—

He keeps removing clothes until he’s completely naked on the shore—aside from his face that stays hidden—scars marred his chest, spreading to his collarbones and below the water as he steps into the lake and sits on another ledge across from you.

His mask makes him look more menacing, erasing any trace of softness there. And you wonder if he’s angry at you for wandering off.

"Come here." His voice is low and deep, rumbling in his chest.

You don't think he'd hurt you. If he wanted to, he would have done it by now.

At least, that’s what you’re going with to settle the nervous fluttering in your middle.

Water laps at your arms as you wade through the water, each shaky step bringing you closer until you stop before him.

"In my lap."

Your breath sticks in your throat as you do as he says, settling down onto his sturdy thighs, palms falling flat against his broad chest. That same breath comes out in one large exhale as his fingers slide along your jaw, to the nape of your neck, curling into your hair, wet and falling around your shoulders.

“Like this?” you ask, trying to ignore how breathy you sound.

He grunts, apparently in confirmation.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt so conflicted in your life—fear and arousal turning into a messy cocktail in your veins.

“Why do I always have to use a heavy hand to make you listen?”

Your lips part. Breath growing short. “I’m sorry.”

And then—

Simon pulls your head back sharply, exposing your throat.

Your body goes slack against his. Mind blissfully blank.

“No,” he says, tone flat. “But you will be.”

[incorrectbatfam]

Which of the batkids have been in a child safety tether (as in, you are safe from the child) and why?

[at the amusement park]

Bruce: Now have fun, but remember that safety comes first. If I catch you doing anything unsafe, you're gonna have to wear this backpack with a rope so I can keep an eye on you. Understood?

8-year-old Dick: Yes sir!

Dick: *immediately starts climbing the Ferris wheel*

Bruce: Ten seconds, that's a new record.

———————

[before a gala]

12-year-old Jason: I'm not a pet. You can't put me on a leash.

Bruce: Like I said, it's only if you misbehave. All you have to do is smile for the cameras. If you feel uncomfortable, just tell me and we can go early.

Jason: Ugh, fine.

[later]

Alfred: Master Bruce, I saw Master Jason outside removing the hubcaps from a very expensive limo.

———————

14-year-old Tim: According to my research, you've used a child leash to keep Robin in line, and I just want you to know that you've got nothing to worry about when it comes to me.

[3 years later]

Bruce: Why are you covered in blood?

17-year-old Tim: I got a new spleen.

Bruce: Where exactly did you get it?

Tim: That's private medical information.

———————

Bruce: *talking to Commissioner Gordon*

16-year-old Steph: *tries to sneak to the ice cream truck*

Bruce: Nice try, young lady.

Bruce: *clips the leash on*

———————

Cass: *on the leash*

Barbara: What'd she do?

Bruce: She had coffee. This is a precaution.

———————

Damian, on the leash: This is humiliating!

Bruce: It's what happens when you try to sneak batarangs into a birthday party.

Damian: Can you at least loosen it? It is chafing.

Bruce: Sure.

Bruce: *loosens it*

Damian: *grabs a cake knife, cuts the cord, and sprints away*

———————

Tim: Duke's lucky he doesn't have to deal with the child leash.

Duke: Child leash? Like the thing they use on preschoolers?

Damian: Mhm. Father would put us on it when we misbehaved.

Jason: You cut it in half the first time. You barely even had it on.

Duke: Is it that green one on the Batcave floor?

Steph: Green? The one I had was purple.

Dick: No it's not, it's blue.

Jason: Nope, pretty sure it was red.

Tim: Mine was a shade of orange.

Cass: Pink. Didn't have black.

Dick: Wait, guys, are you thinking what I'm thinking?

[later]

Bruce, on a long rainbow leash: I should've seen this coming.

[scoupsakakitty]

Knock Knock | idol!s.coups x idol!reader | angst

The cool night air brushed against Y/N’s face as she walked through the dimly lit streets of Seoul, her phone held up as she went live for her fans. The city buzzed softly around her distant car engines, faint chatter, and the rhythmic sound of her footsteps on the pavement. She’d just finished an intense dance practice, her muscles aching but her spirit still lively as she interacted with her fans.

Her smile, however, didn’t fully reach her eyes.

Every now and then, her gaze flickered nervously over her shoulder, her footsteps slowing slightly. Her breath hitched, though she tried to mask it with small laughs, brushing off the tension with casual comments. But her fans weren’t blind.

“Why do you keep looking back?”

“Are you okay, Y/N?”

“Is someone following you?”

She swallowed hard, forcing a shaky smile. “It’s nothing,” she whispered, her voice thinner than usual. But her eyes told a different story wide, alert, and filled with fear.

She kept walking, her heart pounding faster with each step. The feeling of being watched grew heavier, like a shadow clinging to her back. Eventually, she stopped mid-sentence, glancing back one more time, her face tense.

Then she spoke, her voice firm despite the tremble. “I just want to say this,” she began, her fingers tightening around her phone, “it’s not okay to follow idols. It’s not okay to make us feel unsafe. Sasaengs are not fans.”

The chat exploded, filled with worried messages, but Y/N didn’t linger on the topic. She sighed, trying to shake off the fear as she approached her apartment building. She entered quickly, locking the door behind her with trembling hands. She leaned against it for a moment, taking deep breaths before forcing herself to smile again for the live.

“Anyway,” she said, her voice lighter than she felt, “let’s talk about something else.”

She chatted about rehearsals, upcoming schedules, random funny stories anything to drown out the lingering fear in her chest. But then—

Ding dong.

Her doorbell rang.

She froze.

Her face went pale, her breath catching in her throat. The chat exploded again:

“Who is that?”

“Did someone follow you home?!”

“Y/N, don’t open the door!”

A few seconds later knock, knock, knock.

Louder. More urgent.

Panic surged through her veins. She stood up, her phone shaking slightly in her hand as she approached the door cautiously.

The live glitched for a moment, pausing briefly as her phone started ringing. She flinched at the sound, staring at the caller ID. An unknown number. Her heart sank.

She declined the call, but it rang again almost immediately.

When she finally answered, her voice was barely a whisper. “Please… just go away.”

Her hands trembled uncontrollably. She didn’t even realize her live was still going viewers watching every terrifying second.

Eventually, she grabbed her phone, her face filled with fear and exhaustion, and ended the live without saying another word.

Seungcheol had been watching the live from his apartment, his heart pounding in his chest. The moment the screen went black, he didn’t hesitate.

He was already grabbing his jacket, his keys jingling in his shaky hands as he rushed out the door. His mind raced with worst-case scenarios, panic clouding his thoughts.

Please be okay. Please be okay.

It took him less than 15 minutes to get to her apartment, speeding through the empty Seoul streets, his heart beating louder than the car’s engine.

When he arrived, he didn’t even bother with the elevator. He sprinted up the stairs, his legs burning but his fear pushing him forward.

When he reached her door, he banged on it, his voice raw with worry. “Y/N! It’s me! Open up, please!”

The door creaked open slowly, and there she was.

Her face was streaked with tears, her eyes red and puffy, her body trembling like a leaf in the wind. She didn’t say a word just looked at him with broken eyes, like she was holding herself together by a thread.

Seungcheol didn’t hesitate. He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as she broke down, sobbing into his chest. Her fingers clutched his jacket desperately, like he was the only thing keeping her from falling apart.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “I’m here now. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

She couldn’t stop shaking.

Seungcheol kept whispering comforting words, running his hand gently through her hair, trying to steady her breathing. He felt her tears soak through his shirt, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was that she was alive, that she was here.

But then—

Flash.

A sudden burst of light from outside the hallway window.

Seungcheol’s body tensed instantly. He turned his head sharply, just in time to see a figure disappearing around the corner a camera still faintly visible in their hand.

His jaw clenched. His heart raced with a different kind of fear now anger.

Without a word, he guided Y/N back inside, locking the door securely behind them. His mind was racing. The photo. Their secret. The world would know.

Y/N seemed to realize it too because she mumbled through her tears, “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. This is my fault. Now they’ll know. Your career—”

“Hey,” Seungcheol interrupted, cupping her face gently, forcing her to look at him. His eyes were soft but filled with determination. “I don’t care about any of that. You hear me? I don’t care if the whole world finds out. The only thing that matters to me is you. That you’re safe.”

Tears welled up in her eyes again, but this time they weren’t just from fear they were from relief.

“I’m staying here tonight,” he whispered, pulling her back into his arms. “I’m not leaving you alone.”

Later, as they lay in her bed, Y/N clung to him tightly, her body still trembling with the remnants of fear. Seungcheol held her close, his arms wrapped around her protectively. He whispered softly, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on her back.

“It’s okay now. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

She eventually drifted off to sleep in his arms, her breathing slow and steady against his chest. Seungcheol stayed awake for a long time, watching over her, his heart still heavy with worry but also filled with love.

Because nothing else mattered.

Not the photo.

Not the rumors that would come.

Not the world.

Just her.

————————————————————————————-

[starlightxsvt]

PSYCHO | j.ww (M)

synopsis ➳ a new threat has showed up, one wonwoo thought he got rid of. this time, you are entangled into the mess and it is bound to get bloody. good thing wonwoo is there to help you bury past demons that you didn't even know existed.

genre ➳ dark romance, smut, gore, halloween au.

pairing ➳ psycho!wonwoo x therapist!fem reader

word count ➳ 7.6k

warnings ➳ blood, PTSD, mentions of scars, mentions of not being able to eat, stalking, knife, choking, graphic description of murder, hiding a body, halloween costumes (Wonwoo is Ghost from COD), hand necklace, degradation, name calling, makeouts, unprotected sex, rough sex, pussy slapping, fingering, tit play.

Note: it is mandatory to read Bloodily Safe and Game on! before reading this. additionally, I heavily recommend reading the Patreon bonus scene after Game on! to get a better context of this story because this is a continuation from there and is a major plot point.

It is weird seeing your colleague who suddenly disappeared a year ago without a word, appear randomly at the clinic today. 

Joshua is definitely not how you remember him.

He used to be a soft-spoken and friendly guy but the man you met today is someone completely different; rude and snappy. Not to mention that terrifying scar on his face. The long scar running down his left cheek looks quite new and not accidental.

How did he get that?

It is all so peculiar. The way he almost kept scowling at you, the weird aura that radiated off of him and the unsettling way he seemed to notice everything about you and stare too long.

You had been working with Joshua at the clinic for about three months when he disappeared suddenly last October, sending his resignation letter through the mail. No one at the clinic knew about his whereabouts but it was assumed he went back to the States since he had American citizenship. 

Seeing him at the clinic today caught you completely off guard, especially because he felt so familiar yet unfamiliar. In a way you could not put your finger on but made you feel uneasy.

He was there to see Jeonghan, your clinic's new head, saying he needed to have an important meeting with his friend as he showed himself in. 

Who knows what they were talking about in there for so long. You saw him enter when you were on a late lunch break and Joshua was still inside when you left, removing your option to speak to him as you had planned.

And for the first time in a long while, you felt unsafe on the way home, turning your head back now and then, looking for someone who was not there, as if your gut knew something was wrong.

—

“Cherry,” Wonwoo suddenly calls you by your nickname, a solemn clarity in his tone that lets you know he means business. “Look at me.”

You sit at the dinner table, toying with the fork on your empty plate as your mind drifts off somewhere else, clouded by all sorts of thoughts.

You have been zoning out for a while now and your boyfriend’s unwavering gaze at you forces you to focus. You hesitate for a fraction of a second before meeting his eyes. 

Suddenly, you feel nervous. Wonwoo can read you like an open book so you know there is no hiding from him.

“What is bothering you?”

“What do you mean?” You feign confusion, getting up from the chair and heading to the sink where you start washing the dishes, the heavy sound of the jet of water putting a pause in your conversation.

You can feel Wonwoo’s gaze sharpen. He leaves the dining table, stepping closer to you. With his hands crossed in front of his chest, he leans against a nearby countertop and patiently watches you do your work.

You know very well he is waiting for you to finish. Still, for a reason unknown to you, you attempt to evade him. “You should prepare for bed. I will join you soon.”

Wonwoo frowns, his eyes somehow appearing darker as he leans closer. “Don’t do that.” He admonishes. “I know you well enough to know something is up from the look on your face. You have been distracted. What is going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

A soft sigh falls from your lips as you shake off the water on your hands before wiping them in a dry towel resting by the sink. Then, you face him.

 “I met Joshua today.”

Wonwoo’s eyes widen. While you admit that the news is a bit surprising, you are perplexed by why your boyfriend, who barely knows him, appears so shocked.

“Joshua?” There’s a change in Wonwoo’s usual low, monotonous voice. “The guy who used to work at the clinic last year?”

“Yes.” You hum, before raising a brow. “Why are you so shocked?”

Wonwoo blinks, peering at your face for a while before subtly shaking his head. “Nothing. I just did not like the way he looked at you.”

“You say that about every guy.” You roll your eyes.

“But why have you been thinking about him?” Wonwoo snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you closer as he watches you carefully. “Did he try to hit on you?”

“What? No,” you scoff but then pause, recalling the unsettling aura he gave off. You don’t like how weirded out you have been since seeing him. “He…he had this strange, long scar on his face, you know… It looked, I don’t know…not like an accident.”

Wonwoo’s grip on your waist tightens and you look at him inquisitively to see a frown on his brows. 

Why is he so tense? What is he thinking about so hard?

“What are you pondering so seriously?” You poke his nose, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Wonwoo shakes his head, sighing. “Nothing.” He hums, the look in his eyes suddenly changing. “You look ravishing right now, you know.” He murmurs. With a foxy grin, he pulls your body tight against his, trailing teasing kisses and bites on your neck while his hands explore your back.

Heat blooms all throughout your face as you shyly shift your gaze the closer his face comes to yours. You are only wearing a T-shirt and shorts right now so you have your doubts about how ravishing you look.

With a smirk of the devil, he presses his lips to yours, soft and sweet at first as you really soak in the feeling of his large, warm hands holding your back. They roam around freely underneath your t-shirt, one hand on your upper back while the other presses lower, right over your tailbone. Goosebumps break out on your skin under the caress of his soft, sensual fingers.

“Wonwoo,” you whisper, shivering, not from the cold but from need and anticipation as every other thought about the world slips away from your mind. Right now, there is only him and you.

“Hmm?” He hums, pulling his lips just a fraction away from yours and placing you on the countertop.

“I need you,” you plead, using your hands to pull him even closer to you.

With a knowing, cocky smirk, Wonwoo removes your baggy t-shirt off your body, exposing your naked torso for his eyes to feast on. You see the desire spark in his eyes, his gaze not sparing an inch of your chest as he leans down to press kisses all over the soft, sensitive flesh. He takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking in it before gently nibbling the skin around it.

“Wonwoo,” You writhe. “Please.”

“Hmm?” He hums, busy with his task.

“Y-your fingers,” You whisper, trying to grind yourself against him.

“You want my fingers, baby?” His voice is deep as he removes his mouth from your tits and locks his eyes with you. Through the fabric of your shorts, he palms your core, making you whine and writhe more. 

“Where do you want them, little girl?” He smirks, savouring your desperation. You groan, clutching his arms in a vice-like grip with one hand while struggling to remove your shorts with the other. Your boyfriend aids you in the process, tugging it off in one smooth motion and leaving you completely bare.

“Please, Wonwoo.” You beg, all other vocabulary vanishing from your head.

He hums, eyes trained between your legs and then, surprising you, he slaps your pussy, hard, as your mouth falls open in a silent scream. “Horny little slut.” He tsks and in one smooth motion, thrusts two of his fingers inside you. You squeal, hands fisting the material of his t-shirt tightly while his long digits easily slip inside you thanks to the arousal that even coats your thighs.

“Oh fuck, yes.” You moan, eyes rolling back as you feel his fingers move inside you back and forth. With each thrust, your legs fall open wider as your breathing becomes harsher, and your body starts to feel heavy.  Paired with the movement of his fingers and the heated look he’s sending your way, you know you’re not very far from your release. You squeak, “Go-gonna cum.”

Wonwoo scoffs. “So quickly? My needy little cherry. Come then. Come on my fingers so I can put my cock in your wet sopping hole.” The utterly filthy words coming from him make you moan out loud as he brings his thumb over clit, rubbing it swiftly and sending you over the edge and face-first into your orgasm.

It shakes your body as you slump over Wonwoo, letting the ecstasy wash over you, your pussy spasming repeatedly as he keeps playing with you throughout your high. When you finally come down and your mind starts working again, Wonwoo pulls his fingers out of you, dripping in your essence and licks his digits clean, never wavering eye contact with you. The erotic sight has your core thrumming once more as your throat dries up. “Please. Fuck me, Wonwoo…” Your voice is soft and breathy and the man grins as if pleased with your begging. “Good girl.”

Pressing a quick kiss on the top of your head, he steps back, pulling your naked body with him as he heads for the bedroom. Once there, you sit on the bed and eagerly wait for him to take off his clothes and join you, your hungry eyes watching him remove his t-shirt.  Anticipation builds in your veins as you lick your dry lips, avidly waiting to see his cock as if it is your first time.

With his eyes never straying from yours, he removes his pants and boxers, a cheeky smirk playing on his lips. Like every other time, his size and girth leave your mouth dry and your core clenching around nothing. 

Your eyes never leave his cock as it bobs in the air, his tip leaking precum. Wonwoo watches you watch him with utter amusement. “Close your mouth, cherry. Otherwise, I might shove this down your throat.” He flashes you a haughty grin as he climbs on top of you and pecks your mouth.

“You can do that” You whisper, eyes trained on his cock as his large body engulfs yours, pressing you flat into the mattress. On top of you, Wonwoo grins like a cat that ate the canary, “Oh, I know you would love that, dirty girl. But I’m too impatient right now.” He grunts as his cock brushes against your belly. “Fuck.” Cursing under his breath, he lines himself up to your throbbing hole. “I’ll fuck you so hard you will not remember anything else. Especially not a guy.”

It’s a promise and you cannot wait for him to fulfill it.

His words only fuel your need and you think you will go crazy if he waits a second longer. “Hurry,” you whine, raising your hips to meet his.

“Fuck. Such a slut for my cock, aren’t you?” He tilts your chin and pulls your lips in a bruising kiss as you nod. “P-please, Wonwoo, give to me.”

Groaning softly, he taps your clit with his hard shaft, eyes trained on your swollen, dripping hole. “It might hurt.”

“And I will love it.”

His eyes darken as he suddenly lands a slap on your clit. “Such a whore. I love it.” You squeal from the impact, more wetness dripping out of you and just as you are recovering from the sting of his spank he thrusts inside you, all the way in one smooth motion. Your gasp morphs into a loud cry, your nails scratching Wonwoo’s back as you cling to him.

No matter how many times you have been with Wonwoo, you still struggle to adjust to his size, not to mention when he fucks you raw and animalistic like he’s doing right now. 

He pants harshly on top of you, sweat shining on his forehead as he wastes no time thrusting his full length in and out of you. Your pussy is stretched to its limits and every time he brutally thrusts in, his cock hits the deepest, most sensitive part inside you, making you mindlessly grind on his cock, soft, breathy whines leaving your lips as your eyes roll back in pleasure.

“Stop doing that or I’m gonna come,” Wonwoo warns but you start moving your hips faster, matching his thrusts. “Little slut,” he groans, guttural and as if in pain, heated eyes watching you. “You are extra horny today.” He murmurs, smashing his lips to yours. The kiss is all teeth and tongue as you breathe Wonwoo in like he is your oxygen. When your lips part a flimsy string of saliva hangs, connecting the two of you and Wonwoo watches you, his gaze feral as he continues to fuck you mercilessly.

“Are you ready to come for me?” He asks quietly, his hand creeping lower and lower down your body to play with your swollen clit. He rubs the sensitive bundle of flesh, making your entire body shudder as you feel your orgasm coming. As soon as he flicks your clit with his finger, your release comes crashing down on you and you feel it in every one of your nerves.

Your mouth hangs open in a silent scream as you feel him release inside you, making you clench around his throbbing length. You’re not surprised when he doesn’t stop but continues thrusting inside you, far from being done with you and you feel another orgasm impending. Your pussy hurts in the best ways possible and just thinking about coming once again have your toes curling.

“Fuck,” Wonwoo mutters under his breath. “I can’t get enough of you, my little slut.” His fingers that were previously digging into your hipbone now make a home on your neck, gripping it firmly and applying just enough pressure to make your body curl up and see stars. Your breath catches in your throat, your hands coming to rest on Wonwoo’s wrists as he continues to apply a steady pressure that makes your core throb. Just as you feel your oxygen supply being cut off quite severely, your mind goes into a trance-like hazy state and your orgasm is triggered, multiplying it by hundreds. 

Seeing the godlike man on top of you, his dark, piercing eyes trained on you so intensely as if he would devour you whole makes you go off like a rocket, bliss seeping into every inch of your bones. You swear you see God himself as your body completely lets go and you feel like you’re floating on a cloud, high above reality. The feeling of him releasing inside you makes you shudder before you vaguely register the emptiness as he slips out of you. Faintly, you feel him shuffling on the bed, murmuring something in your ears as he kisses your forehead and cleans you up.

You drift off peacefully, safe and snug against Wonwoo’s warmth.

—

31st OCT

You stepped out of the clinic a little earlier today, like everyone else, since it’s Halloween night. As you walk by, you observe the festive mood on the streets, with all sorts of creepy and gothic decorations littering every corner as children scurry around dressed in costumes.

You can’t wait to get home and put on yours.

Your home is just a ten-minute walk away, and like every other day, you stroll down the sidewalk, enjoying the beautiful dusk. Yet today feels different for some reason. 

As soon as you stepped out of the clinic, an uneasy sensation prickled in your gut, sending subtle alarm bells blaring in your head. You try to dismiss it, telling yourself that it is the exhaustion from the day that is making you overthink. But with each step, your unease deepens, and as you glance over your shoulder, a chill runs down your spine.

As you expected, a man in a black outfit flashes by the moment you spot him, disappearing into the alley right beside where he stood.

Terrified, you continue walking, your pace faster than before. For some reason, your gut says it is Joshua. It is weird that his name was the one to immediately pop into your head. You suddenly remember his words the day he came back to the clinic. “You have been living well, no?” A deeper implication under the guise of an innocent question.

It may just be your mind making up scenarios after the issue with Jacob but you are not taking any chances because obviously, someone was following you.

As you march down the sidewalk, you find a bus a few meters ahead of you and without thinking, you rush towards it, stepping in right before it is about to leave.

You catch your breath, panting harshly as you grip the handrail and look out the window, searching for the man in black. Just when you accept that he is gone for good, you spot a man stepping out of an alleyway, fully dressed in black, his face covered with a black surgical mask and staring at you. You get only a glimpse of him as the bus takes a turn, going in a direction opposite to your home.

You don’t care. 

You will get off at the next stop and take a cab home.

Truly an experience befitting the Halloween night.

—

You return home much later than usual, depleted mentally and physically. All your excitement and eagerness for the upcoming Halloween party in the evening is now gone with the chilly breeze of the night.

“You are late,” Wonwoo states, walking towards you as you toe off your shoes before stepping into the living room area. From the worn-out expression on your face, he can immediately sense something is wrong as he asks, “What is going on, cherry?”

You don’t reply, dashing into his arms straight.

In the back of your mind, you register that he is dressed in his Halloween costume but your wired brain fails to process his look properly. He is dressed as Ghost from Call of Duty, a look you anticipated heavily but now, you are too fraught to care. Instead, you bury yourself in his arms, breathing in and out deeply as he holds you, his hands patting your back and sides in search of any injury.

“What is wrong?” He asks again, the desperation rising in his tone. Breaking the hug, he holds your face and carefully observes it, his gaze jumping all around your visage. “Fuck, are you okay? Say something!”

“Someone tried to follow me home.” You whisper.

“What!” A sharp breath falls from his lips, his grip on you tightening as his eyes double in size. “Are you okay? Why didn’t you call me?”

“My battery died.” With a heavy sigh, you slump down on the sofa, Wonwoo following you closely as you start narrating everything to him. With each word you utter, his complexion pales and his expression darkens visibly. At the same time, you see the anger surge within him, evident from the way he scowls at the floor, his hands clenched in fists.

“Fuck.” He hisses.

“I just don’t understand why he has been so weird towards me. What did I do to him? Why is he after me?” You cry, dragging a hand through your hair. “Please, tell me I’m just overthinking. It really cannot be Joshua, right?”

Your boyfriend does not affirm you.

“I should have taken care of him last year,” Wonwoo mutters instead, almost as if he’s talking to himself but you hear it loud and clear and the hairs on your neck stand up straight, your brain suddenly working a mile a minute as the equation starts to add up.

“What do you mean?” You whisper, horrified by the reality that is about to dawn on you.

“You should know how I got this scar.” Joshua’s words from that day replay in your mind, how he uttered them when he caught you staring at the mark. The words that once made you clueless suddenly make perfect sense. 

“Wonwoo, look at me,” you croak with pleading eyes, chasing his gaze which he hides. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

“What do you mean?”

“It was you! You are the one who fucked up his face!”

For the first time in your life, you see Wonwoo look uncomfortable. He abruptly stands up and averts his gaze, avoiding your eyes as if it were a game while continuously shifting on his feet. He looks…guilty and worried.

“God, for fucks sake!” You burst out, unable to hold yourself together any longer. “Are you insane? Why would you do that?”

“I think you know the answer to that.” He finally meets your eyes but you do not see the faintest hint of remorse in him.

“No, I don’t!” You snap, irritated.

“He is a bad man, cherry,” Wonwoo replies, deadpan as he approaches you. “He was a fucking pervert. He did disgusting things behind your back.”

No wonder Joshua thinks you're in on this too. He probably believes that you made Wonwoo do that to him, hence the vendetta.

“Then you should have handed him over to the police!” You snap, rubbing your palm over your face.

“You know I don’t work like that.” “Clearly!” You roll your eyes, pacing around the room. “You instead thought it would be better to carve his face! As if that makes any sense!” You scoff.

Wonwoo’s demeanour shifts as a frown settles on his brows, his lips thinning. “I don’t like your attitude. He was a sneaky pervert and I was trying to protect you from him. I did not share it with you because I did not want to add to your traumas.”

You know he meant well. You understand he was looking out for you, in his own deranged way but right now, you cannot think with compassion. Right now, you do not care what perverted thing Joshua was doing behind your back because right now, he is out there trying to hunt you down.

“Well then, you should have done a better job of protecting me!” You spit, using air quotations for the last two words. “Now I have a deranged stalker up my ass who only god knows what will do to me. And don’t talk about my attitude.” You glare at him.

The subdued lighting in your living room creates a striking shadow across his face, highlighting his sharp, bony features in an almost unfair way. Combined with his combat attire and his dishevelled hair, it’s astonishing how captivating he appears, nearly stealing your attention from the argument.

God, this is so unfair. You hate him. You hate this man so much.

With your hands on your hips, you start pacing around. “You are the one who caused this mess, Wonwoo, so don’t talk about my attitude. Joshua is out to get us, do you understand? What if he goes to the police? Do you understand how badly this could end, you impulsive psycho?”

You should not have said that.

Wonwoo’s eyes, as always, remain dark and empty but you clearly see his jaw harden as he grits his teeth. Sending a scalding look your way— one you have never encountered before, he throws the Ghost mask on the floor. 

“Fuck this.”

Then, he is out the door.

The two words are enough to make you realise that you have crossed a big line. You want to go after him but it is too late and you are still frozen at your place, the blood flowing through your veins still hot with anger and frustration.

Well, there goes your Halloween plans.

It is almost ironic how crazy people have always been after you. You are living with one and you have to admit over the years you have also become a lot like him. Still, what pains you is that he kept it from you. You would not have been mad if he had come to you and confessed. After all, given your shared history, you were supposed to be partners in crime, literally.

With diminished spirits and exhaustion from the day taking over your body, you trudge through the empty apartment, changing into your pajamas. The witch costume you had intended to wear for the evening seems to taunt you from the closet as you change, and with a heavy heart, you tuck the box away.

You should not have said those things to Wonwoo.

You never had a fight this big with him. Sure, there were small quarrels here and there but they were resolved within a few hours. This is the first time in your almost two years of relationship that he stormed out of the house.

How can you make up to him?

The clock on the wall reads seven in the evening and you know for a fact Wonwoo won’t be home until it’s very late. 

He won’t stay outside all night, will he? Since this is the first time he has rushed out of the house, you don’t know what to do or expect.

Feeling overwhelmed and useless, you decide to busy yourself by making dinner. You get started on cooking his favourite meal, hoping it will lessen his anger once he returns.

With the food cooking on the stove, you sit on the living room floor, slicing apples for yourself and scrolling through your phone. Wonwoo isn't particularly a fan of this fruit, but when you cut it into slices shaped like little bunnies, he relishes them with the joy of a child.

So, you do that. 

You slice through the apples, preparing them in the shape of bunnies and munching on a few yourself while in the back of your mind, praying that he returns quickly. 

You cannot wait to apologize to him.

Suddenly, you hear the doorbell.

Wonwoo cannot be back so early, right?

Still, you rush to the door, hopeful and delighted that your prayers have been answered. Through the peephole, you see the person standing outside and realise quickly it is not Wonwoo but a man wearing a baseball cap.

“Who is it?” You are not expecting any guests.

“Delivery for Jeon Wonwoo!” The man announces from the other side.

Ah, right. Wonwoo did order a new headset.

You open the door, your eyes searching for a package in the man’s hand only to realise, there is none.

The man is dressed in all black, making it hard to see his face, especially because of the baseball cap and mask on his face. Suddenly, a heavy sense of dread fills your system as you realize something is profoundly wrong, flashbacks of the earlier events in the day vividly going through your mind.  

Fuck. Fuck.

You should not have opened the door.

The man seems suspicious, his vibes very ominous and just as you are about to close the door, he looks up, locking his eyes with yours. A small, sharp breath falls from your lips as you immediately realize who it is.

Joshua.

This is your worst nightmare coming true. Fuck, how did he even get your address? You thought you had successfully got him off your tail.

You are so fucked. There could be only one reason why he is here.

Revenge.

The man pulls down his mask and grins diabolically. “Hey there, ___.”

“Jo-Joshua,” you give him a nervous smile while trying to wrack through your brain to find a way out of this, fidgeting with your phone behind your back.

Maybe talking to him would work? You’re a therapist after all.

He places his palm flat on the door with a loud thud, forcing it to open wider as he steps into your home.

Fuck, fuck.

You reflexively step back, walking backwards into your living room while unlocking your phone behind your back with your thumbprint.

“I came to have a chat with you,” the man grins, kicking the front door closed behind him. “You know…just you and me since your boyfriend is out.”

Beads of perspiration gather on your forehead as you keep backing away in small steps. The look in Joshua’s eyes is one of paranoia and you know he is beyond reason right now. This was a very calculated move and he has you right where he wanted. 

Trapped in your own home.

Tossing his cap and mask away on the floor, Joshua combs his fingers through his hair before showing his scarred cheek to you. “Let me ask you a question, therapist ___. Do you know who did this?”

Oh fuck. 

You fiddle with your phone behind your back, attempting to call Wonwoo through speed dial. The glass on the showcase to your right aids you in the process as you can see a fairly clear image of your phone screen on the reflection from your peripheral vision.

“N-no, Joshua. But it looks painful. Maybe we can talk about it—”

“Lies!” The man seethes, his eyes ablaze before calmly whispering. “I know you are lying. I can see it in your eyes. You know your dear boyfriend did it.”

Whatever remaining strength in your leg disappears at his words as you stumble over nothing and fall on the ground, your heart thudding so loudly it is deafening to your ears. Your phone slips away from your hand, lying face up on the ground as your body freezes from the panic overriding your system.

This is like the situation with Jacob all over again but much more terrifying. 

God, when does this end?

The moment the call connects and you hear Wonwoo’s voice float through ever so faintly, Joshua takes notice of it, immediately lurching for the device. “Fucking cunt!” He yells, smashing your phone down on the ground in one swift blow as the screen cracks under the force.

You cower, pressing your back to the coffee table as you raise your arms to cover yourself while trying to appear as small as possible. “Please, please don’t hurt me.” 

The man chuckles, positioning himself over your torso as he grabs you by the collars of your nightshirt, forcing you to meet his eyes. 

“Oh darling,” He grins, his teeth on display, and paired with the deranged look in his eyes it is so terrifying that your hands tremble when you try to free yourself. 

“I will just draw a pretty scar on your cheek like he did to mine.” He whispers, leaning close to you. From his jeans pocket, he pulls out a switchblade, the tip razor sharp and glinting. “And then, I will stab a nice little hole in your stomach, like he did to mine. Seems fair, no? I promise it won’t hurt.”

“No- please—” you struggle harder but his hand moves to grip your throat, cutting your airflow as you writhe underneath him, trying to free yourself while also fighting to overcome the heavy weight of his body on top of you. 

You need a weapon.

Suddenly, the fog in your brain clears up as you remember what you need is right behind you.

“Your boyfriend is a loose nut after all,” Joshua smiles, tracing the tip of the blade over your forehead and dragging it down to your cheek. “I have a feeling that if I do this to him, he won’t hurt but if I carve you up,” he laughs, shaking his head. “He will burn. That’s the best revenge I can get, you know.” 

Holding your breath, you observe as his pupils dilate while his grip on the butt of the knife tightens. Half a second before the tip of the blade nicks your skin, your right hand reaches back on the coffee table to pick up the knife lying there.

You find it in one go and the very next moment, you lodge it in Joshua’s throat.

The knife pierces through the man’s skin, breaking through his artery as blood sprays out immediately while you hold it against the side of his throat, trying to push it in deeper. Joshua groans, the sound choked as he grips the knife, trying to pull it out but you use all your strength to shove it even deeper. 

He falls back, his gaze wide and frantic as he sputters and chokes, holding on to the knife in an attempt to pull it out while blood seeps through his fingers.

However, all too soon the light in his eyes fades and he falls quiet as his body slumps down on the floor, the room enveloped in a thick blanket of silence, disrupted only by your harsh pants as you inhale lungfuls of air, managing to get yourself to a proper sitting position.

Suddenly, you realise there is blood everywhere.

On your hands, your face, your shirt, the carpet and the floor.

Your home is bathed in blood, an intimate space soiled with the evidence of your crime. Your favourite cream-coloured rug is now painted crimson, just like your pajamas and fingers.

Shaking like a leaf, you look at your right hand which is coated red, the blood slowly dripping down your wrist. It envelops your fingers, thick and heavy, the metallic smell of the liquid wafting in the air suddenly too strong for you to bear.

Despite not wanting to cast your eyes on the body of the lifeless man lying in front of you, your eyes shift to it and the unsettlingly blank look in the corpse’s eyes locks you in a trance as you sit on the floor, shuddering.

The events of the last few minutes start replaying in your head and with the passing of each second, the reality and the gravity of your actions begin to sink in.

You just killed a man. 

In self-defence but you did just kill Joshua.

You feel like throwing up.

A faint beeping sound alerts you before you hear the front door open. A second later, Wonwoo dashes in only to stop a few steps into the room as he takes in the scene. 

Your terrified eyes meet his wide, panicked ones as his eyes move from your face to your bloodied hands and then to the knife stuck in Joshua’s throat. Not wasting another second, Wonwoo rushes to you, kneeling on the floor and wrapping your body with his, his palms patting all over your body as he murmurs between harsh pants, “Are you hurt anywhere?”

You shake your head no, biting down on your wobbling lower lip hard to prevent yourself from bursting into tears while remaining careful not to touch him with your blood-soaked hand.

Wonwoo loosens his hold on you to observe your right hand as he grips your wrist and studies the smear of blood all over your hand.

What is he thinking? Is he mad? Will he abandon you now? The thought has you struggling to breathe. “Wo—wonwoo, I-I swear I didn’t m-mean to… he just—” You try to explain in between tears and choked breaths but Wonwoo shushes you with a hard kiss.

“Stop.” His dark eyes bore into yours, his fingers moving from your wrist to link with your bloodied hand as you watch with fascination how he holds it in a strong, unrelenting grip. You are suddenly reminded of the time you held his bloody hands after he killed Jacob. 

And suddenly it is easier to breathe.

With him near you, holding you and reassuring you, you suddenly feel just a bit better.

“You did well, little cherry. You did so good,” Wonwoo whispers, snaking an arm around your waist to hold you tightly against his large, warm body, your hands still linked. “I should not have left you alone. I should have taken care of this fucker long ago. I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so fucking sorry.”

His words are your undoing as you bury yourself deeper into his embrace, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as your entire body shudders, everything washing over you once again— the stalking, the fight, the attack. 

“Everything is going to be okay,” the firmness in his tone is oddly reassuring. “Look at me,” he commands and gently holding your chin, he forces you to meet his gaze. 

“You did not do this, okay? You were not here, you know nothing. I will take care of everything, do you understand me?”

Your heart beats loudly in your ears as you give him a shaky nod.

“Words, little girl.” His eyes darken and his grip on your chin tightens.

“I u-understand.” You whisper between sniffles, unconsciously turning your head to look at the lifeless body once again but Wonwoo interrupts, cupping your head and forcing your gaze back on him. 

The blood from his fingers transfers to your clean cheek when he wipes your tears. 

“Now listen to me, cherry.” His tone is calm but authoritative. “You are going to go to the bathroom and clean yourself up. Then, I will give you an address and you are going to go there and have a good night’s rest. In the morning, when you wake up, all of this will feel like a very bad dream.”

What? Panic surges through you.

“But Wonwoo—”

“Hush. You will do as I say and I will take care of the rest. I promise you, little cherry, everything will be okay.” He pauses as a smirk spreads on his lips. “After all, you know very well that this isn’t my first rodeo.” 

The way he says those words makes you believe that everything will truly be okay. You force yourself to nod, your eyes stinging with fresh tears as you softly speak. “I love you, Wonwoo.”

The man remains silent for a breath, his eyes piercing into the deepest parts of your soul while one of his hands gently caresses your neck and jawline, tracing the lines of the blood stain. Then, he leans in, pressing his lips to yours as he pokes his tongue into your mouth and kisses you languidly, eliciting soft, whiny moans from you.

“Oh, cherry,” he smirks, trailing little kisses all over your lips and chin. “I am holding back the urge to fuck you right here in his blood, you know.”

His words make knots form in the pit of your stomach, your heart racing at the thought of Wonwoo taking you right here, right now. 

“And I know you love the idea, my depraved little slut.” His grin grows bigger. “But we should not waste time. Now go do as you are told.”

You gaze at him, still unsure as he helps you get on your feet. Pushing you toward the direction of the bathroom, Wonwoo orders. “Do as you are told, cherry. I mean it. You would not want to see the real psycho.”

—

The dreadful night passes by as you toss and turn restlessly in the sheets, lying in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar cottage in the middle of the woods.

With the rise of the sun in the eastern sky, you get some shut eye after your mind is finally overtaken by exhaustion. When you wake up, the morning light is flooding into your room in the cabin. Your groggy eyes shift to the clock on the wall that reads 10 am.

For a moment, your mind remains blank as you try to figure out where you are. And then, the events from last night flood in and you bolt up, kicking the sheets away.

Oh fuck! Wonwoo!

You leap out of bed, rushing to the dressing table where the burner phone lies, fully charged. Just as you are about to dial Wonwoo’s number, you hear a strange string of sounds coming from outside your door.

Did someone break in? With your heart in your throat, you open the door and carefully pad out to the hallway. The second floor is quiet, empty and tranquil as the sun pours in through the window, illuminating the wooden floors. After carefully listening to the sounds for a couple of seconds you assume it is the sound of someone using the chopping board and the juicer machine. 

More confused than scared, you climb down the stairs, eyes eagerly searching for the person behind the noise.

As you place your feet on the floor after descending the flight of stairs, your eyes land on the man in the kitchen, his back facing you while he cooks as an array of ingredients and utensils lay on the counter. 

From the broad expanse of his back and shoulders, you immediately know who it is.

“Wonwoo!” Your voice, almost choked, overpowers the sizzling noise on the stove.

The man whips his head back in surprise before breaking into a smile that has your heart soaring.

Oh, thank god.

Without another word, you dash to him, leaping into his arms as you press your face against his hard chest, your fingers holding onto a tight grip around his waist like he will disappear any second.

There is no exchange of words as he hugs you back, even tighter, his fingers stroking your hair in a repeated soothing pattern. You inhale and exhale deeply, savouring the breaths as you let his scent and embrace comfort you.

“Did you sleep okay?” He asks, carding his fingers through your locks.

It is almost as if last night did not happen. It is almost as if everything is okay.

You shake your head, squeezing your eyes tight so that the threatening tears do not escape as you address the elephant in the room. “I was awake till almost dawn. Whenever I closed my eyes,” a shudder wracks through you, “I saw his face, blank and dead, staring back at me with so much hatred.”

“Hey,” your boyfriend loosens his hold on you, tilting his head back slightly to take a look at your face. Cupping your jaw, he assures, “It is all okay, I promise. He is gone for good.”

Your lower lip wobbles, “But— but what if someone looks for him? The CCTV cameras—”

“Hush, little cherry,” he presses his index fingers to your lips. “You do not need to worry about it in your pretty little head. I took care of everything.” His calm composure and the way he speaks each word start to break the bonds of worry in your mind. 

Maybe everything will be okay.

“What about you?” You ask, swallowing a lump in your throat. You let your eyes wander all over him, searching for a sign of injury. “Are you okay? Will you be okay? They can’t track you down right?” The possibility of losing Wonwoo scares you more than losing yourself.

“Oh, sweet cherry.” He smiles, relaxed and cocky. “I will be just fine. We both will be, I promise. Just trust me. You need to forget everything and just trust me.”

You nod, once again wrapping your arms around him. Resting your head on his chest, you listen to his heartbeat and repeat his reassurance in your mind.

It is not that you are not curious about what your boyfriend did to cover everything up. But more than your curiosity, you feel like it will be better for you if you know less. Your mind and sanity will spiral if you do. So for now, you will let it go. You will trust him and let it go. Maybe someday down the line, after years have passed and you are both safe and sound, you will ask him about it. Maybe.

But not now.

“Let’s have breakfast. I’m sure you are famished.” Wonwoo softly offers, guiding you towards the dining table and helping you sit down comfortably. The arrangement is quite grand for breakfast— almost brunch, an array of dishes placed on the table with mouth-watering aromas.

You thought you would not be able to eat a bite— especially since drinking plain water proved to be a hard job for you after last night but you eagerly dig in, savouring the delicious meal, the flavours bursting on your tongue, almost healing your broken soul.

You never knew egg rolls could be so delicious.

Wonwoo, sitting in front of you, watches you fondly, every now and then pushing the dishes closer to you. For a long time, silence prevails as you gobble down the food, the only sound prevailing is the clinking of your cutlery.

When you are almost finished with the meal and sipping on the orange juice that Wonwoo freshly squeezed, your boyfriend shifts on his chair as he pulls something out of his pocket.

His arm extends over the table as he places a box in front of you, small and made out of plush velvet. Frowning, you take a peek at his face to find him impassively looking at you, waiting for you to open it.

It looks like a jewellery box but if you remember correctly, today is not a special occasion. For a split second, as you hold the box in your hand, you panic, half expecting Joshua’s finger or something. Knowing Wonwoo, it would not be surprising because he would consider it romantic.

A gasp falls from your lips when you open the box.

It is a ring.

Right away you can tell it is expensive, an oval diamond sitting on a golden band, dainty but absolutely beautiful. You know this is too fancy to be a couple’s ring, not to mention the fact that you already have one.

So this could mean one thing and one thing only.

“Marry me.” He states, almost as if he’s commanding you.

You look at Wonwoo, his sharp eyes piercing into you and from the way you can see his jaw clenching, he almost looks…nervous.

Beads of tears gather in your eyes as you look back at the jewel, your heart beating deafeningly loud in your ears.

You committed murder with this man. The intensity of your bond is so raw and brutal that nothing will ever hold a candle to your relationship with him.

So, there can only be one correct answer.

Wiping your tears with the back of your hand, you push the box towards him. Wonwoo’s eyes widen, regarding you with alarm.

You hold out your hand and smile. “Put it on me.”

Click here for a bonus scene taking place a few years after the events of this story!

A/N: Okay, so this is officially the end of our journey with psycho Wonwoo. I hope it was enjoyable for y'all because I poured my blood, sweat and tears into this. So please like, reblog and leave a comment! I would love to here your thoughts so my ask is always open.

Also, I would like to take a moment to announce that I will not be able to update frequently for the next two months due to my extremely hectic schedule so bear with me. I will try to be as regular as possible with the sibilance series so if I can manage time, it should be out in the second week of November. For now, toodles and happy Halloween to those who celebrate! May you find your own psycho Wonwoo ;)

[neonovember]

So I currently have food poisoning and I can’t help but it think how mad Carmy would be if a restaurant gave his gf/wife food poisoning

Also Carmy come take care of me and make me soup plz 🙇‍♀️😫

Plus he would give the best snuggles 😭

firstly, sending lots of love and recovery, i've never actually had fp lmao so a lot of time on webmd will be spent. get ur fluids in! secondly, carmen might have to go underground for setting the restaurant on fire. we love him for it

summary: You were hungry and had just finished work and you didn't think about inspecting the goddamn Michelin star restaurant, maybe you should have.

warnings; cursing, food poisoning, richie (he's a warning), hipsters, talks of future arsony, possessive carmen, cracked fic ngl,

divider by @firefly-graphics

i'm slipping back into the unsafe territory of wanting fictional characters. (and i don't care)

You could roll your eyes in annoyance if you weren't hunched over the ceramic bowl of the toilet heaving out the contents of your stomach while Carmen held you hair back.

The one time, the one goddamn time you decide to try a new place without Carmen's input, without his meticulous standards and in depth research behind every night out.

It wasn't like you hadn't tried to vet the new braised beef spot that opened up on west Avenue. In fact, you had heard all but stellar reviews from friends and family, meeting you with suprise hearing that Carmen hadn't taken you. You decided to bring home a small plate, their signature braised meat with plums, red onions and atrichocke hearts.

You had meant to share it with Carmen, and you were going to, but a botched catering order had him staying back another hour than what had been planned. And well..you say you tried to save some for Carmen, but despite its bacteria laced beef and vomit inducing sides it was pretty fuckin' good.

Was this God's wrath coming down upon you? Punishing you for your gluttony? Food poisoning did feel awfully close to perpetual hellfire.

The TV was blaring some indescriptive show, the kind with dramatic introductions and soap opera worthy screams. It helped fill the space of absence when Carmen worked long nights, and you felt quite comfortable wrapped up in a blanket with a full stomach and a warm sofa.

Your phone had pinged with the sound of Carmen's text, letting you know he was on the way when it started. At first you had written it off as mere indigestion, probably from shoveling the cursed meal into your mouth too quickly.

Then, around the time the show's main character had found out her boyfriend got her mother pregnant, the nausea set in. Swirling aches that felt like a whirlpool in your stomach had taken over, sloshing and swirling and never leaving. You couldn't mistake it, as you tried to swallow past a dry throat and the creeping sweats of a headache inducing fever began to ravage your body.

You hated sitting in discomfort, it wasn't as though you were afraid of vomiting no, you just could not bare to feel the way your stomach skipped and jumped with every wave of nausea that took over.

You thought of making yourself sick, but shook your head when the alarming disapproval of Carmen's voice loomed over.

"It's just gonna make it worse, you gotta sit with it till it passes"

Fuck him and his medical knowledge. What did he know?

You had ripped off the blanket that had once felt comforting, peeling of layers of clothing that stuck to your body like a second skin. You just felt hot, so hot, is anyone else feeling this heat? You try to move from the couch to reach your phone, but the sudden movement has nausea bubbling up your throat.

You fall to the ground in a heap, hand clasped around your mouth to stop the possibility of projectile vomiting on the rug you had just bought and shoot your hand up to reach for your phone.

You press Carmen's number, begging him to answer you in genuine crisis rather than when you were drunk with friends and missed him. You feel the urge to heave and crawl quickly to the bathroom, phone clasped in hand and suddenly desperately needed his medical knowledge.

Carmen phone rings from the behind the stack of documents in the office, and he hastily wipes his hands across his apron before trying to reach it before it rings out.

Guilt fills his stomach at the thought of you, he was meant to be home hours ago. The catering order needed a few extra hands to help, and once Carmen began he got lost in it, and now you had spent nearly the entire night alone.

"Fuck- Hey baby, I know I said I was comin' but I had to finish a couple things-" Carmen quickly responds as he swipes the call button.

The groan of pain that responds has Carmen freezing in the middle of the kitchen.

"Baby? What-, are you okay?" Carmen replies quickly, his voice going short as his mind turns every possible scenario that had you whining in pain over the receiver.

"Please come quickly, Carmen I think I might-" You gulp and make a retching sound "I think I got sick from that place I was telling you about" You plead out, breathing heavily into the speaker.

The guilt that had filled Carmen seems to morph into an anger that rushes up his chest as he shakes his head.

"The new place? The one with the fuckin' smoke meat? They did this?"

"Mhm" You mumble "I should've just listened to you" You groan out in sadness.

"Fucking idiots. How the fuck did they even? Okay, okay honey just gimme a second yeah?"

How did he let this happen? Carmen has half the mind to stop at the restaurant that more of a Instagram attraction that a respected place of business. You were so eager and excited t try it, Carmen had his own thoughts but would glue his mouth shut if it meant making you happy.

He'll make sure they get shut down, or at least black listed from Chicago as long as he's concerned. His hands shake with the eager want for the fight, to smash someones jaw for resorting you to a heap of tears and sick. He would, he knows he will, but at this moment he needed to take care of your first.

He mumbles out a rushed reply, phone between his shoulder and ear as he slips out of his work shoes and into his sneakers. He thinks for a moment to grab his things but immediately shut that thought out when he hears you groaning into the phone.

"Just stay on the phone okay? I'm coming now, I need to get you some things alright?"

You let out what you hope is a reply, hunched over the toilet.

Carmen rushes to the store fridge, grabbing containers of soup Tina had prepared for family as the Chicago winter was getting close.

"You alright kid?" Richie mumbles, walking into the kitchen entry way, scratching his stomach as he watched Carmen's erratic movements around the store.

"Fuckin-, she's sick. And I'm here chopping up tomatoes for fucking Guy while she was in pain for god knows how long-"

"Woah, Bugs sick? We talking COVID or.."

"I'm such a fucking idiot. No it's not COVID Rich, Jesus Christ. Some rookie new spot trying something outside of their abilities gave her food poisoning. Fuckin' hipsters"

"Oh that's bad. You know when I got food poisoning the one time I took Tiff to this romantic getaway. Had me projectile vomiting in the AirBnb bathroom. Couldn't even get a deposit back, had to pay some dumb ass cleaning fee-"

Carmen wipes a hand across his face shaking his head. He was already pent up, he might throw a pan at Richie if he doesn't stop talking.

"Richie, I don't have time for this, I need to get her some Sprite or"

Richie shuffles across to the cupboard near the back of the house, grabbing bottles of Gatorade and a pack of saltine crackers.

"How do you even have this stuff lying around"

"You're the one with the inhuman alcohol tolerance Carmy, someone of us actually have hangovers you freak" Richie retorts

"Yeah yeah, thanks. Fuck- I gotta" Carmen replies, to which Richie nods.

"Go. I'll wrap up anything here" Richie replies, understanding in his voice. You took precedence over pretty much everything in Carmen's life.

"And Carm?"

"Yeah?" Carmen calls out, slipping on his jacket as he turns to Richie

"Tell me when we're going to sort out those bearded wearing flannel ass wipes"

Carmen shakes his head with a smile, before nodding and pushing past the kitchen doors. The traffic lights better be green green fuckin' green tonight.

You were stripped to a singlet and sleeping shorts as you knelt over the toilet, blinking back exhausted tears at the state of you.

You suppose you have no one else to blame but yourself, but the indignation righteousness burns almost as bright as the acid reflux crawling up your throat.

You hear the faint opening and loud clang of the apartment door opening and closing and you sigh in relief as you hear the familiar footfalls of Carmen down the hall.

It had felt damn near torturous suffering without him, and as he calls out to you following the trail of loose clothing he spots your figure in the bathroom sprawled.

"Oh honey, I'm sorry" Carmen says

And it was as if your body needed to finally feel safe in Carmen's presence before you felt the nausea spill out of you and splash offensively into the toilet.

You feel Carmen crouch above you, dragging your hair that had gone loose from it's wrapped up do away from your face. Gently rubbing your back, his large hands softly dipping up and down your spine.

"That's it, 'atta girl. Let it all out" Carmen coo's softly

You purged the insides of your stomach into the toilet bowl, retching loudly with every heave as Carmen comforted you. After what seemed like hours, and the nausea had subsided Carmen carefully wrapped his arms up under your armpits picking you up of the floor.

"Slowly, yeah? You damn near emptied out you're entire water content" Carmen murmurs, flushing the toilet and helping you walk to the basin and wash out the taste of bile from your mouth.

"I probably look insane" You cry out, blinking back exhaustion from your eyes as Carmen shakes his head furiously.

"Never, my pretty girl. Need you to go easy okay? Gonna take you to bed and let you sleep through it. Can't have you collapsing on me" Carmen murmurs, wiping at the edge of your mouth, patting the sweat that stuck to your forehead.

You let Carmen carefully maneuver your body, one arm under your legs and the other supporting your back walking to the bedroom. Your wring dry and can barely keep your eyes open as Carmen placed you on the cool sheets you immediately moan at.

You hear the faint rustle of movement as Carmen brings in a paper bag. The clunk of bottles placed on the bedside table as you sing praise for the very short bit of relief you have before the next bout of nausea rolls in.

Carmen pads to the adjacent bathroom, the door opened so you can see the stream of light that illuminates him. Hes running a cloth under water, squeezing the excess and looking up to check on you every so often.

He looked so...domestic, like he hadn't come back from working at one of the most decorated restaurants in Chicago. Stripped of his shirt so he stood bare chested, golden curls pushed behind his ears, sweatpants hung low on his hips and the furrow of his eyebrows in concentration and worry.

Your eyes flutter shut as you thank the midnight sky for bringing him to you, for keeping him for you, this one good thing that was yours.

The skies answer by the sound of his voice listing off all the things you will not be doing in this stage of recovery. Sitting on the edge of the bed as he places the cool rag against your forehead, lips between teeth as he feels your temperature under his skin.

"Just bone broth, Gatorade and bread sticks for you, doll. And no, before you even think it, its not the garlic ones." Carmen tsks.

You were thinking it. He knew you too well, but when he kisses your eyelids and measures out careful tips of the Gatorade bottle, you don't mind it.

[katrafiy]

Hiya tumblr! Let's have a talk about bioessentialist enbyphobia, transmisogyny, and how to make sure transfeminine people, enby or not, feel completely unsafe and unwelcome at your events. First take a look at this group description, and then lets get into it.

First some context. Those of you who know me know about the kinds of clubs I go to. This screenshot was taken from a local event page, and I've blocked out their name because in the months since this event was hosted the group has updated their description to be more inclusive.

Seeing that description, I avoided going to events hosted by that group.

"But Kat, why? You're a woman and it says women are allowed!"

It also implicitly lumps all nonbinary people who were assigned male at birth with men and calls them males.

So why is this a problem for me? Well, if this group sees all AMAB nonbinary people as "male" then it says a lot of things about the ways the see trans women.

Many, and I would venture to assume most, trans women know well the feeling of our womanhood treated as conditional, subject to immediate revocation without warning.

Spaces that are "Women and AFAB exclusive" are often rife with this, and often lead to a lot of really gross and abusive power dynamics where transfems get treated as second class to anyone who was assigned female at birth.

(Side note: Gretchen Felker-Martin did, I believe, a masterful job of portraying this sort of dynamic in her book Manhunt)

If you are a trans woman in one of these spaces, you quickly learn that you are on the thinnest of ice.

Laugh a little too loud? You're male.

Sit or stand a little too close? You're threatening.

Smile at the wrong person? You're making other people uncomfortable.

Transfems, in these spaces, quickly learn that standing up for ourselves in the face of flagrant abuse is verboten, and will be met with swift and decisive punishment and exile.

I personally don't like the word "theyfab" and don't use it. I'm writing this thread to hopefully help people better understand the social dynamics that were being addressed when that term was coined.

It was coined because transfems are forced to navigate a community of things like "afab only" apartment rentals.

It was coined because transfems constantly have to listen to other trans people implicitly describe us as disgusting, hideous freaks.

In short and in closing: consider that the reason why the term "theyfab" exists and "theymab" really doesn't probably lies somewhere in the fact that the sort of person who would call someone a "theymab" doesn't need to, because they *already* just call AMAB trans people "male".

[darnell-la]

𝗣𝗜𝗖𝗞𝗘𝗗 𝗨𝗣 𝗙𝗥𝗢𝗠 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗕𝗔𝗥

pairing: dark!logan howlett x bartender!reader

warnings: bar fight, breaking in, kidnapping, rough sex (slight cnc), dominating, hair pulling, etc.

note: we love him. we really do. this was a quick story. it’s late at night!

follow our Instagram @ darnell.la so we can start posting random videos, photos, edits and memes of the people we write about!

————————————————————————

𝟯𝗥𝗗 𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡 𝗣𝗢𝗩

Having to lock up because the Wolverine got into a fight at the bar, was one of the craziest things y/n had to do in a while. No one got hurt, but he did slice a couple chairs.

Y/n had to kick everyone out so she could clean up and close early for the night. Tonight was a long night anyway, so people didn’t complain.

Well, one did, and of course it had to be Logan. He told her he could stay and clean up, maybe have a drink after, but she denied and told him to leave.

He got snarky with her, stepping towards her and telling her she was too pretty to close up alone. That’s when she had to threaten to call the cops.

She’s now in the bar alone wiping down the last table. Tonight was a long annoying night, but at least she was tipped well.

Y/n sang as she put the towels up before walking to the front door. She noticed in her way, that a man was standing at the front with his back towards her.

She was confused for a second until the man turned around. It was Logan. How long has he been standing there? Did he ever leave?

Y/n went to speak behind the thick glass until she saw a smile grow on his face. She instantly knew he meant no good.

She lunged at the door too, hoping she could lick it but he pushed it open, causing y/n to slide across the floor.

“Should’ve taken me up on that offer,” Logan said as he stalked towards her. She backed up on the door until her back to the bar counter. He now stood over her, eyes fully dark. “Told ya it was unsafe for a pretty girl like you,”

Logan grabbed y/n’s arm, pulling her up then slamming her upper body on the counter. “No, get off!” Y/n yelled, trying to wiggle from under him, but his body was heavy.

“Can’t tell me that when I smell your pussy from here,” Logan said, shocking y/n. What was he talking about? “I always smell you. You love dressin’ like this around men? That gets you off?” The man asked as he traced his hand up her body, pulling her dress along.

“P-Please, Logan. You’re drunk. I-I won’t tell anyone if you leave now. I promise!” She said as his lips kissed on the back of her neck. She smelled amazing. She always does.

“Ian leavin, sweet cheeks — I’m too close to you to stop now,” he said, pulling her panties to the side, wasting no time to stick his middle finger in her cunt, curling as soon as he could.

Y/n whined low as Logan breathed down her neck. “Imagine who else would’ve been on you if I wasn’t here. Had to scare off a few people tonight, like any other night. You should thank me,”

“Thank me, princess,” Logan said again, pushing two fingers into her. “L-Logan, stop!” She cried out, trying to lean up, but he pushed her back down harshly with a huff.

“Hard to get — I’ll fix that,” he said, now tugging on his Jean, pulling them down until his cock fell out. She couldn’t see, but she felt him in between her thighs. He was fucking huge.

“Please, no — Logan, I can’t do this. N-Not at work,” she said, remembering these cameras could be only. Some days, the boss turns them on while others he turns them off to save money.

“Don’t worry, princess. Ima take you back to my place after this. Already moved around the apartment to your liking,” he said, confusing y/n.

She didn’t know, but he knew where she kept her spare key. Sneaking into her home and sometimes sleeping next to her for a little while was a nightly routine.

Y/n’s thoughts were cut off once Logan’s tip pushed through her slick. She cried out, feeling him stretch her in an instant. He was too big for her. He loved it.

“Fuuuckin’ hell, y/n. You’re a tight one,” Logan grunted on the back of her neck. “So fuckin’ tight — God, Ian gonna get enough of this,” his hips began to move at a faster pace, taking her hard on the bar counter.

Y/n gripped the ends, trying to brace herself, but he was fucking her too rough. “C-Can’t,” y/n barely got out as her cunt clenched around him. “Yes, baby — Yes,” he tugged at her hair as she came undone around his cock.

“So fuckin’ dirty, Bub. You just cleaned,” Logan chuckled as y/n cried onto the counter. She didn’t know what to do until she remembered one of the panic buttons was right under the counter.

Y/n tried not to make it obvious she reached under the counter, trying to find the button she usually never misses.

This time is a different thought. She’s being pounded into by the Wolverine.

“Whatcha doin, girl?” Logan asked, looking over her shoulder until he realized. Before he could pull her hands back, she pressed the button. Alarms went off and the bar lights turned red.

“Goddamnit, y/n,” he growled as he pinned both of her wrists behind her back, hurting her shoulders. “You just can’t listen, can you? So fuckin’ bad,” Logan used his free hand to push her face into the countertop.

“Fuckin’ bitch can’t even let me fuck her at work. When I’m done with you, you’re fucked,” the man spat, snapping his hips harder to get closer to his orgasm. He wanted to ruin y/n back at his place. Back at her new place.

Y/n cried into the counter, feeling mixed emotions about this all. He broke into the bar to use her, but why her? Aren’t there other women? Is she special to him?

“Cry all you want, y/n. You’re not getting out of any punishment tonight,” the man groaned in her ear as his hips stuttered. Her mouth parted, knowing what was happening.

Logan eventually spilled in her, still thrusting as y/n shook. She tried her best, but she ended up cumming again, but this time with a moan he knew was different from the others. They sounded needy.

Logan smirked, quickly pulling out of y/n and throwing her over his shoulder. He didn’t bother emptying every drop into her. He slipped his leaky cock back into his pants before walking out of the bar.

She kicked and screamed, but not loud enough to make them look out of their windows to help. Logan chuckled at the frisk act, knowing she was going to be a cute and fun toy for him.

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ

[nvuy]

clarice starling — jiaoqiu

summary. jiaoqiu falls in love, but unfortunately for you he might love you a bit too much.

notes. yay. yippee. cannibal. i am a very normal and dignified human being. i haven’t played the tb quest still. take this while i still do not play it. i dropped a hannibal lecter reference because i thought it would be funny. please heed the warnings!!!

warnings. yandere jiaoqiu & themes, implied cannibalism, gn reader, implied kidnapping, this gets a bit dark it’s kinda funny, mentions of heaving at the very end, jiaoqiu is a weirdo, promise he loves u tho, in his own wicked weird way.

“What is this?” you ask timidly, picking at the thin slices of meat with your chopsticks.

Jiaoqiu blinks and snaps out of his stupor. “Pork.” He’s been staring at you for what had to be the entire hour since you’d entered his dining room. He tilts his head. “Why?”

The meat is too dark to be pork. It’s also too rich. Pork is usually dry, even when cooked by the most talented of chefs. The meat you poke up appears charred due to the basing and sauces he’s dressed it in, but the slices are still rich and dribble juice of some sort — perhaps blood. You did tell him once you preferred your meat on the rarer side.

You say nothing. You merely shake your head and continue to poke and prod at the dish. It smells delicious, and you’re sure it tastes something to match, but just staring at it makes your stomach twist.

Jiaoqiu is still staring.

You place down the chopsticks and stare back.

“You aren’t going to eat?”

“I’m not hungry,” you respond quickly. You search frantically for a clock, or a window, and find there is none. “I’m tired, actually. I might go to bed.”

You stand up briskly and try to push the chair away.

Your first error was announcing your departure. Jiaoqiu knows all your tricks by now, and the steady twitching of his ears you see out of the corner of your eye jolt in tune with every fidget of your fingers. He knows you feel discomfort, and unsafe, and he preys upon it.

Your second error was placing your hands on the table to stand, for his own fingers curled tightly around one wrist and gripped tight.

Your blood runs cold beneath your skin and he twists the flesh in warning.

“Sit down and eat,” he says. “Or I will tie you to the chair and feed you myself.”

It would not be the first time. You know the rope that he brings to every breakfast, lunch and dinner that he forces you to attend is not used for display. It sits quietly, arranged in a neat loop, on the table.

You always remember how it pulls and cuts into your flesh, all the while he grabs your face as gently as he can, and force spoonful after spoonful down your throat.

“I’m not hungry,” you whisper to him.

You do sit, however.

“You did not have breakfast, and I allowed you to skip lunch.” He’s still staring. That’s all he ever does. “Eat.”

It takes you a while to move. You busy yourself stalling, staring at him, and the rice dish, and then back at him again. Your stomach growls and you know he can hear it, but you hold steady. As steady as you can.

Jiaoqiu’s patience runs thin after a few minutes, and after a final glance, he makes for the rope on the table.

You almost snap and your hands immediately fly to the chopsticks you had dropped into the bowl. Desperate, you scoop up what you can with your trembling hands — which isn’t a lot at all — and attempt to swallow it.

He hums, pleased. He places the rope in his lap and leans forward in his seat next to yours to place a gentle kiss to your temple.

“See? It’s not so bad.”

And it isn’t. You know it’s not. His food is some of the best you’ve ever tasted.

The gentleness does not last an eternity when he realises you’re avidly avoiding the meat. It becomes more obvious when the dish slowly empties, and more meat remains than vegetable and rice.

He glances down into your bowl. “Best for last?”

You push it away. “I’m not eating it until you tell me what it is.”

“It’s pork,” he repeats.

“It’s not pork,” you argue. It’s a defeated whisper, and you hate to try and argue with him. Not because you’re wrong — you’re entirely certain you’re correct — but because he scares you.

“How would you know?” he asks with a laugh. “You haven’t even tasted it.”

And he’s right. You scrunch your nose up when you glance down at the bowl.

He sighs and you can practically hear when he pinches his nose bridge in frustration. You snap your hands away defensively when his fingers crawl over yours and tug the chopsticks free from your grip. The rope still rests in his lap, but he has made no effort to retrieve it.

He scoops up a few slices and holds his hand beneath the meat before he offers it to you. “Open.”

Your breathing turns ragged and you shake your head. It’s not pork.

Jiaoqiu’s eyes flash in warning. “Open your mouth.”

You refuse again.

“I will tell you what it is after you finish,” he says. You’re not sure if it is a promise. He could very well lie to you again. You’re not well versed in reading him despite being forced to be around him more than you are alone. “Eat.”

So, after a moment, and when you see his eye twitch, you quickly allow him to slip whatever poison he’s given you on your tongue.

And of course, it’s delicious. That’s not the issue. You’re sure Jiaoqiu could make a sandwich with lettuce, tomatoes, and literal dirt plucked from his front garden taste delicious if he tried. It’s salted correctly, there’s hints of spice, and the wine sauce melts on your tongue like butter.

He murmurs bouts of praise as he collects more slices to feed you. Your stomach turns when you accept them.

It’s made even worse when the bowl is finally empty, Jiaoqiu kisses your cheek, and then he stands and offers you his hand after packing away the dishes. You take it because you have no other choice. Discomfort whittles your bones, and you feel them wither and weaken with every step.

Your feet are heavy as if you wear shoes of led. The food sits comfortably in your now filled stomach, but the thought of it makes you squeamish.

He leads you away from the kitchen. Like typical, you’d assume he’d take you to the couch where he’d then curl his tail around you. Sometimes he’d fall asleep, especially when his ears twitched as the seasons changed, and you used to soothe over the soft fur with a finger.

Instead, he guides you to his bedroom. This isn’t unusual either. The look you must have on your face alerts him.

“You did say you were tired,” he reminds with a small smile. His tail brushes against the back of your leg.

“Right,” you respond. “Uh…” You glance at the bathroom door in the corner. You make a move to step toward it to brush the taste of his dishes from your mouth when you stop. “You didn’t tell me–”

“I think it’s best if we settle in for tonight together,” he cuts in.

“You didn’t tell me what the meat was,” you finish.

Jiaoqiu grins once, but it’s wry as he takes your face into his hands. “You didn’t like it?”

“It was fine,” you answer meekly. “I always like your food.”

“Good.” He brushes past you and makes for the bathroom first. “In that case, you wouldn’t mind having another friend for dinner tomorrow.”

You perk up. “Really?” You blink once, twice, and dont catch how his smile ticks up. “I don’t mind.” You stare at the floor for a moment. Visitors sounded nice. You haven’t seen anyone for some time now. “What about Moze? I haven’t seen him in a while.”

Jiaoqiu halts before the doorway to the bathroom. His hand rests on the doorframe. “I can organise for Moze to visit, if you want.” He turns for a moment, and there’s a wicked grin across his face.

You smile softly.

His tail curls with delight. “You are just the sweetest little thing.”

He enters the bathroom and locks the door.

It’s only then when it hits you.

And for the rest of the night, while he holds you tight in his arms and lays gentle kisses on the nape of your neck, and forbids you from emptying your stomach forcefully, you cry.

[ambivalence-is-me]

Your Power (2)

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Summary: The day has come, you had to face the consequences of your actions. Thinking about seeing Azriel and the inner circle again made you incredibly nervous, you pray you make it out alive.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: mentions of death

A/N: The amount of feedback I got from this was INSANE! Thank you so much!!! I promise there will be more azriel and reader coming! I don’t know how many parts there will be of this tbh so, don’t give up on me! I’ve never had to make a taglist so, pls be patient with me :) thanks again and sorry for the grammar mistakes!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

‘’They teach you History in school, right?’’

‘’Yes.’’ Being used to talking about random stuff, your nephew continued to stuff his face with food.

‘’So, has someone ever died for upsetting, I-I don’t know, a high lord perhaps?’’

You hoped you were being nonchalant after asking, taking a sip of the drink your sister-in-law served with the meal. She rewarded you with a confused expression from across the table.

‘’Yes.’’

For the second time, you hoped your eyes didn’t show anything that you were feeling.

‘’Right…’’

‘’In Night Court, or actually, it might’ve been Autumn I can’t remember’’ He shrugged his little shoulders not thinking twice about the statement.

Not knowing that it was doing nothing to calm your nerves or fear. Which, thanks to your sister-in-law, dwindled down a bit after she reminded you that it was probably many many centuries ago where the males in higher positions were not the same ones that are now...well, at least in the Night Court.

‘’So, is there any reason you’re asking about high lords and their patience?’’

She asked after dinner was over and you were helping clean up, your nephew away in his room. And so, you told her everything. You were actually glad she was asking because you’ve been holding on to that information ever since the encounter with the Shadowsinger the day before.

After he left, physically at least because he was still very much popping up in your brain, Sabrina asked you a million questions about it but you were too shocked to explain the situation to her. She had asked again this morning but a rush of customers had walked in the shop, saving you from retelling the awkward encounter.

So really, you hadn’t told a single soul of what was going to happen in the next few days. You considered briefly speaking to your mother about it but you knew she wouldn’t be of help, instead you knew she would reprimand you for even being out with your friend on a Friday night.

‘’You’re not getting any younger now, Y/N. You have to start thinking about getting married and starting a family.’’ She always said.

Easy for her to say, she had no idea how hard it was to court someone these days. But you knew where she was coming from. There was a time when they thought there was all the time in the world for love, for a family but quickly after your brother died, it seemed like eternity was no longer secured, danger lurked in the corners, capable of snatching any one of us away without a second thought.

So yes, you understand that it’s her just worried that you were going to end up like your brother (dead) but worse because you hadn’t experience real love like he did. But truthfully, in your head, if you were going to die unexpectedly then it was better that you weren’t attached to someone. Why would you want them to go through that?

‘’I think they just want to talk about Velaris. You told them that Velaris needed them.’’

You scoffed ‘’Because it’s true, you know this.’’

‘’Yes but apparently they don’t. Which is why, I think you should go with a plan.’’

‘’A plan?’’

It ended up being more like a list (your brother would be proud). A list of all the troubles you knew some of your neighbours were experiencing, of some of the unsafe things you’ve observed while walking down the Sidra many times ago. A list of all the things they’ve missed while doing whatever it is that they do when there is not a war.

With this list, you will tell them just how much Velaris needs some reconstruction, some hope.

You had no idea if this was truly what they wanted from you but after being told 14 times that ‘’No, they’re not gonna kill you silently in a library’’, you figured it was better than going empty handed.

It makes sense, I guess, you thought the next day. The day before the meeting would take place. You edited the list about 4 times, erasing and adding, scratching and ‘’Should I put them in order of priority?’’ ‘’No, let them figure that out by themselves’’.

Every time you glanced at the list, you would remember the hazel eyes. Would he be there? Would Azriel think your list is stupid? Would he think you’re pathetic for entertaining the idea of the inner circle needing you? Would he stare at you like he did back in your office? A little bit of amusement in his beautiful eyes. Or would he not spare you a second glance? Protecting his high lord and lady from the crazy drunk female with a list.

All of these thoughts flying back and forth in your mind that night as you stared at your backyard in silence, a glass of wine in hand. In a couple of hours, you’d be making your way to The Library and Mother knows what will happen.

The backyard was a mess. Shortly after finding your job at the music shop, you found a nice little house with a big backyard.

‘’I’ll help you turn it into a nice patio where you can invite your friends and play some music out there’’. Your brother had said after you told him how you liked the house but the backyard was too big for you.

Over time, both of you had come up with a design plan of what to do with it, how to turn it around for you. In paper, it was a beautiful masterpiece and you couldn’t wait till it turned into reality. You bought the materials needed for it and waited for your brother so you could start together.

Years later, the materials still lay in the middle of the yard, waiting.

Hybern took your brother, your dreams and your backyard with it.

You knew you could hire someone to do it, honestly you knew you could it yourself (it would take time and lots of patience) or with your sister-in-law but…this was something you wanted to do with your brother. Picking up a single thing without him didn’t seem right.

Alas, your yard was a mess, leaving it like this didn’t also seem right (your neighbors would agree).

‘’Tomorrow’’ you whispered. Tomorrow you would start fixing it, you had to.

If you survived that meeting, there was no way you were going to keep leaving it like a mess. And as you continued to ponder, this whole encounter with the inner circle struck you with one thing.

After the war, they had moved on but not you. For them, life kept going but you, you were stuck. And your backyard was proof of that.

You were not going to stand by that anymore, you were going to fix it.

And so the next morning, you told Sabrina to take over the shop for a few hours and made your way to The Library. During the walk, you hyped yourself up with some words of affirmation you read about in a book once, back when the wound of losing your brother was still fresh and there were no healers available to talk about your pain. You indulged in self-help books, not that they made a huge difference but it was something.

You’re strong (sometimes).

You’re capable of doing amazing things (chaotic ones too apparently).

You matter (we’ll see how much to these faes, really).

Unknowingly to you, you failed to notice you were being followed. Tendrils of shadows following your every move as you made your way to the meeting.

Shadows that were reporting back to their master, who was at The Library waiting for your arrival.

Nervous. Nervous.

They whispered to him. And quietly to himself, Azriel chuckled. He figured you would be. If your encounter with him would be an indication of how this meeting will go, he knew one thing for sure: you were going to be terrified, but you weren’t going to back down.

He was impressed. Not a lot of things impressed him anymore, specially after everything he’s been through. Over the years, he has felt that his reputation and his true self blended into one another but not by choice.

He knew his job required it but his personal life? He didn’t want his reputation to dictate that as well. And in his opinion, he had made a good job with it well until the Archeron sisters stumbled into their lives. Now, to be quite frankly with himself, sometimes Azriel felt like he didn’t even know who he was anymore.

Kind? Yes, he was kind with his family, with the people who he walked by on the streets (they fear him, so he tries his best okay).

Serious? Yes, sometimes. There’s always a time and place for it.

Funny? He wasn’t a complete goofball like Cassian but he had a sense of humor.

Compassionate? He takes care and protects his family and his court. He makes sure they have everything they need, so yes, he is very compassionate.

But Rhysand and Cassian had all of those qualities as well, so really, what made him…him? What made Azriel, Azriel?

It drove him mad. How is it that he’s a 500+year old male and he is questioning these things? How did he let himself go so easily? Was it after or before Under The Mountain? After or before Rhys and Cassian met their mates? After he struggled to find his?

Here. Here.

The shadows whispered.

Finally, you made it.

Looking over at Rhys and Feyre who were chatting quietly to each other in the room, he spoke ‘’She’s here.’’

It was Feyre who smiled, a bit nervous but said ‘’I’ll get her’’. Giving her mate a quick kiss, she left the room leaving him with Rhysand and Cassian.

The three males looked at each other. Cassian with a smirk on his face, excited for the meeting. He was looking forward to seeing the female who had pointed a finger at his superiors and told them off without looking back. ‘’Reminds me of Nes’’, he had said.

Rhys had his ‘’I’m a not a mean high lord’’ face or trying to at least. He wanted the meeting to go well, for Feyre and Velaris’ sake. The thought that he wasn’t doing a good job to protect and take care of this city, one of the most important things in his life, his freaking job; had frightened him.

There were very few times in his life where he had felt like that so intensely: after losing his mom and sister, when he got stuck UTM, losing Feyre to Tamlin, almost losing Feyre when she give birth, and now this. Failure scared the shit out of him.

Azriel knew this, he could see it in his eyes and that’s why he was, once again, impressed by you. You managed to do that, even if you didn’t know it.

‘’This way, this is one of the meeting rooms the Library has. We figured it was the most comfortable one.’’ They heard Feyre talking to you.

‘’Right’’. He wondered if you had bowed to her, he would’ve loved to see that.

He stood behind Rhys, Cassian on his other side and waited for the females to walk in. And just when they did, he struggled to keep his amused smile off his face.

You were trying to not look terrified, but they all knew you were. Your widened eyes taking everything in, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your long skirt, hair in a high ponytail just a bit ruffled, like you kept touching it out of habit and yet…you still managed to bring a smile on his face.

So pretty, he thought.

‘’High Lord’’ you quickly made a bow and were going to make another one to Azriel and Cassian when you were stopped.

‘’That’s not necessary. Come, sit. We’re glad to have you here.’’ Rhys said with an encouraging smile.

And so, it began.

It wasn’t what you excepted at all.

You thought there was going to be a big and long desk to create distance between you and them, perhaps big chairs for them to sit at while you had to stay standing at the other end of the room. Instead, this room was pretty…homey? Surrounded by many books, the room had a seating area that consisted of lounge chairs and a pretty looking comfortable sofa. Feyre said it was a meeting room but it just looked like a cozy reading room to you. There was no desk, just a coffee table in the middle.

This is not formal, you thought. This whole setting screamed ‘’We don’t want to scare you, lets just talk’’. And with that thought, you felt a bit (truly just a tiny bit) more relaxed as you took a seat in one of the chairs.

Rhysand and Feyre taking a seat on the sofa, Azriel and Cassian standing behind them (as if you were going to do anything to harm them, laughable really).

You finally looked at him, at Azriel. Your heart beating just a tad quicker when he looked at you back.

Those damn eyes of his, you thought.

‘’We invited you here because want to hear more of what you have to say’’

So, your sister-in-law was right then. But still, just to make sure, you asked:

‘’About?’’

Rhys turned to you then. ‘’About Velaris. You mentioned how we’ve failed to take care of the citizens of the city. Please, enlighten us.’’

Azriel stiffened a little at his tone. He continued to look at you, sending you what he hoped was an encouraging look. Don’t back out, he wanted to say.

You weren’t looking at him anymore though. Although his body language said otherwise, Rhys’ tone let you know just how serious this was to him.

Good.

With a nod, you cleared your throat and took out the list. ‘’Well, I made a list-‘’

Cassian couldn’t help himself and he laughed out loud but quickly recovered when he felt Rhys’ glare.

Meanwhile Feyre, sharing Cassian’s sentiment, smiled and said ‘’Perfect. Tell us everything.’’

You practiced what you were going to say, how you were going to say it, really you did but it all went out the window in that very second. They were all looking at you, waiting.

You tried to recover quickly, to try and forget about the fact of who were these faes, to tell yourself that this was just another yap session with Sabrina. Don’t back down, you can do this, you thought.

‘’This year will be the fifth year since we were attacked by Hybern.’’

Everyone stiffened. You continued:

‘’We never ever expected our city to get attacked, this was always such a safe space and after that it just didn’t feel the same.’’

‘’We fixed that quickly, placed more wards around the city ensuring safety for everyone’’ Rhys quickly defended.

‘’Yes but what about after?’’

Rhysand raised an eyebrow ‘’Compensation was given to those who lost homes and belongings, to rebuild what they lost’’.

‘’But you can’t buy grief.’’

Rhysand stopped his defensive stance and swallowed. Feyre placing a hand on his knee, never taking her eyes off you.

‘’You gave them money to buy to stuff, to fix stuff but what about our pain?’’ Shit, you didn’t want to make it personal.

‘’You expect us to get attacked and then continue like nothing happened. To go on with our days, pretending to be perfect. ‘’

And that was what truly bothered you out of everything, the list be damned. This, this is what made your blood boil like no other.

‘’ Velaris is the city of dreams, a safe haven right? Everyone should be happy, accomplished, grateful because we were safe from Aramantha right?’’

You failed to notice how their breaths faltered at that name, too riled up to notice.

‘’Don’t get me wrong, we are extremely grateful for that, that we didn’t experience that horror. But we experienced others and are we not allowed to cry? To grief?’’

‘’Of course you are!’’ Rhys, once again. This was extremely personal to him.

‘’It doesn’t feel like it! It’s been 5 years and not once has this city mourned what we’ve lost, the people we lost! It was swept under the rug, never to speak of again like it never happened. People feel like they cant talk about it, that we can’t complain about anything because it seems weak, because we’re meant to be the perfect little city that can do no wrong.’’

Cassian lowered his head, this isn’t what he was expecting to hear.

Azriel felt his heart hurt at every word you said, quickly trying to find solutions in his brain that could help with this.

‘’This is what I mean, you want us to continue to be a perfect Velaris but we will never be the same. We are not perfect!’’ Your heart was beating incredibly fast and hard, your face turning red with anger, despair, pain.

So much pain, you could feel it right now. All the emotions you had felt the second you saw your brother’s lifeless body came back to you. Because you had found him, under all the debris that had fallen after the attack where a building had fell on him. So much pain because he was taken away, his body just another number. His ashes given to you in a small urn because they couldn’t even give him a proper burial at a gravesite.

There were no goodbyes, no way to keep his memory alive. Those who knew him, sent you small smiles recognizing the pain your family was going through but that was it, no one had dared to speak about it. But you wanted to, you wanted everyone to remember the amazing male your brother was, that those who didn’t know him, would learn of all the cool things he had done.

But no one was talking about it, about the traumatic experience they all had gone through, and you didn’t understand why until you saw the High Lord shoving (figuratively speaking) money in their faces so they could buy what they needed.

And that’s fine, no one was complaining about that, but it felt like a slap in the face. It felt like a ‘’here, don’t talk about it and be done with it’’.

And you knew, you 100% knew that you weren’t the only one who felt that way.

No one spoke for what seemed like hours.

‘’Velaris needs more healers. Accessible healers that could help us beyond the physical’’.

Clearing her throat and straightening her posture, Feyre finally spoke up. ‘’Yes, I agree. We know who could help us with that.’’

‘’I’m sorry’’.

Your eyes widened once again, you couldn’t believe what had just left the high lord’s mouth.

‘’I’m sorry. I-‘’He stuttered, the freaking high lord stuttered. ‘’I didn’t know this is how you feel, I didn’t realize I was putting this pressure on my people.’’

He swallowed, you couldn’t look away from his stare. His violet eyes seemed darker with the sadness that was in them.

‘’You lost someone and I’m sorry’’

You never ever expected this to happen. You expected skepticism from them yes but an apology? It was years late and for some, might not mean shit but to you, to you it meant something. Even if this apology wouldn’t bring your brother back, it meant something.

Azriel looked at Rhys the second he apologized; he was also surprised at this. He knew how important this was to Rhys, it was important to him as well, if it involves Velaris, it concerns him as well. Therefore, he’s happy this is the approach Rhys is taking, he’s listening, and he knows he’ll do anything to make it right.

And so will he.

‘’Since it will be the fifth year, I reckon there should finally be a Remembrance Day. A day to remember all the lives that were lost in Velaris. We should honor them, grieve and celebrate their memories.’’

Were you hallucinating? Did your heart beat so fast it made you start hearing things or did that really come out of Rhysand’s mouth?

Feyre looked at his mate, a proud smile, soft gaze on her face. She squeezed his knee and looked back at you. ‘’I agree. Will you help us to make it happen?’’

Azriel was one second away from picking you up and taking you to a healer. Your face had gone from red, to stricken white to red once again. He was sure your blood pressure was going through it, your expressions not hiding anything.

‘’Me?’’ you whispered. They wanted to work with you? They wanted you to help them?

Rhysand smiled, his charming ways coming out. ‘’Absolutely, who else?’’

An olive branch. They were trying, they wanted to fix it. They wanted to hear everything you had to say, to go item by item of your list and come up with solutions.

You don’t know how this was going to play out, how it was going to freaking work but you figured that if you’ve gone all the way to speak your heart and mind, you couldn’t back out now.

You were going to do it for Velaris, for your brother.

Azriel knew the minute you made your decision, he could see the determination on your face and he smiled, a true smile. He decided then that he would make sure you had anything you need, whatever thing you wanted, he would for you.

He was going to do it for his court, for his people.

And if it meant he would get to see you more often then, he wasn’t going to pass up that opportunity as well.

[lactoseintolerentswag]

Rise Characterizations

Last month I did an in-depth re-watch of rottmnt s1 to take some notes on writing the characters of rise from their perspective and such. Figured I'd share what I found, but I'm also posting this bc my docs have a nasty habit of blipping out of existence.

We'll start with Raph bc he's the oldest of course, but I'll post the others sep. bc this is gonna get long!!

Raph Character Notes

Language Habits:

Catchphrases: "like a boss", "smash"

Verbalizes his attacks such as "smash", "knuckle sandwich", "power smash jitsu", "tonfa power jitsu", "mystic punch jitsu"

Uses older song titles for surprised exclamations or in place of cursing, most notably "jumping jack flash!"

Uses aave/bae, For example: 'em instead of them, 'ey instead of they, 'cause instead of because, forgoes the g in ing words (going becomes goin')

Uses less and less grammar the more he's stressed, and his voice will come to a higher pitch

Will speak in a softer tone to his little brothers if he's concerned about hurting their feelings. Aka babying them

Mixes up both metaphors and idioms. Would be one to say how the turn tables unironically

Does say "hero" a lot, lost count, especially in phrases like "hero town"

Refers to his brothers as "boys" or "fellas"

Refers to Splinter as "pop(s)" most often

Refers to strangers he's directly talking to as "bubs" or "hoss"

Personality:

Protective of his family

Plays up the hero act/has a strong sense of duty and justice

Impatient, rushes in without a plan (pre-movie), doesn't finish books until the end, falls asleep during "boring movies"

Oblivious, doesn't read into things beyond surface level. Struggles with empathy when something is beyond his understanding, but is still very emotional

Center of responsibility for his brothers, but also has a reckless sense of fun. As long as it's him doing the stupid unsafe thing it's fine

Carries the weight, in a literal sense he piggy backs his brothers, but will also use his body as a shield from danger. Unfortunately this also means he takes his brothers a little less seriously (Mikey the most common victim), and will try and either protect them from everything or as an oldest sibling everything has go "his way"

Doesn't do well in solitude. Needs to be looking after people to feel functional, and needs to be around people to feel safe

Clumsy, "takes horrible pictures", isn't very good at hiding, he's a big guy so it probably took a lot of time to find balance

A sweet guy who still won't shy from making fun of his family. Leo tends to be the brunt of his teasing since he is the most annoying, but he will also poke Donnie on his dramatics

Likes cute things!!! Has a teddy bear collection and loves animals. It's so cool how this isn't played off as a joke and he's still just as masculine for liking pink and cutesy stuff

Likes fighting!!! Gets a lot of energy out defeating bad guys (where he directs his anger towards), the one who is shown to train the most, and also weight lifts in his spare time

Doesn't do well under pressure, here the anger comes out the most. He gets stressed when it's all on him, especially since he tends to mess up the most in these moments

Miscellaneous:

Second to unlock mystic powers

Nicknames/codenames: "raph-a-doodle" by leo, "red rover" by april, "red king" by donnie

Teddy bear names: Doctor Huggenstein, Captain Snuggles, Cheech

Stinks: fear stink, amazement stink, sneaking up on people stink, victory stink

Seems to be less afraid of rabbits and more afraid of puppets

Went on his first solo mission at 13

Cannot lift a bus, at age 15

Thought about discussing fighting style, but I'm not as familiar with that concept and I've seen a couple posts dissecting such topic. So we'll end here for now. Hope this was helpful!!! I'll post the rest of the boys later and link here

Leo is up!!

Donnie is up!!

Mikey is up!!

Splinter is up!!

April is up!!

Cassandra is up!!

Baron Draxum is up!!