#now i just feel stupid that i allowed myself to be vulnerable with him

[nooooooooooooooooooooone]

.

[secretjeon]

I THINK THIS IS HOW YOU SEND REQUEST IN BUT NE WAYS will you write for supe!reader x homelander where reader gets hurt?

GOTTA KEEP AN EYE ON YOU; HOMELANDER

pairing: homelander x reader

warnings: violence, little bit of angst, fluffy homelander, he's a bit ooc but what do you expect with fluff, not proofread!

word count: 836

summary: in which homelander gets angry after you get hurt during a mission, but makes it all better

a/n: tysm for requestingggg hope u like it <3 wasn't super sure what to include since the request was vague but i hope it meets ur standards!!

It was supposed to be a simple task.

A task that you had stubbornly said you could handle on your own. There had been a Z-lister supe gone rogue, killing any person that was in his line of sight, when you insisted to Homelander that you could stop him on your own. 

You were close to taking him down, the man groaning on the floor in pain after you had used your powers to slow him down. You should’ve known it was a stupid idea. Checking on a hurt citizen before the threat was completely cleared. But that didn’t stop you anyway, kneeling down next to the girl, a teenager, who was badly injured by the supe’s retractable claws. 

You were next to the girl for maybe five seconds, when you felt multiple blades pierce the right side of your lower back deeply, a gasp leaving your mouth before turning around and blasting the supe back with your powers. Before you could continue your attack on the villain, someone else flew in, getting in between the two of you. 

It was Homelander, who had a visible look of anger on his face. He looked at you with concern for a moment before turning towards the supe, yelling at him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He snapped, the villain looking terrified at the angry Homelander in front of him. He didn’t give him any time to answer, immediately lasering him to death. When the man was for sure dead, he turned his attention back to you, who was now feeling the extent of your injuries a little more. 

“Hey, you alright? Do you think you can make it back to the tower?” He didn’t know why he was asking, based on the color leaving your skin rapidly and the way he could hear your heartbeat slowing down, he knew he’d have to carry you. 

“No, I can handle myself. I’m fine.” Homelander rolled his eyes at your words. Your regenerative abilities were the one thing you had as a weakness, your wounds never healed as fast as your fellow members. 

“Come on. I’m gonna take care of you.” And with that, the blonde superhero scooped you up in his arms, flying back quickly to the tower, until you got to his penthouse. The man gently laid you on his couch, peeling off your suit, allowing him to get a closer look at the large gashes that had yet to go away. 

You had no problem with him doing this, the two of you constantly sharing moments of vulnerability together in the comfort of your homes. He knew the lesions would heal on their own, by the time you woke up in the morning, it’d be like nothing happened, but he still wanted to clean you up. 

You watched with sleepy eyes as he opened a drawer, filled with supplies like alcohol and gauze just for times like this, for you. He walked back over with a handful of items, gently turning you around so he could see your back, pressing a washcloth with alcohol on it to the wounds. You let out a small hiss that anyone with normal hearing wouldn’t be able to hear, but he did. 

Slowly cleaning up blood that was still coming out, he planted a gentle kiss on your upper back, where your skin was still smooth and free from any injuries. Going back to the drawer, he went one slot lower to take out a baggy t-shirt and pair of shorts, having a supply of clothing just for you. 

He helped you into the clothes, laying you into bed before getting out of his own suit and slipping on a pair of boxers. “Thank you, John.” You mumbled, watching as he knelt down next to you.

“Think I gotta keep an eye on you, missy. This happens way too many times.” He acts like he’s annoyed but he likes it, the thought of you being dependent on him, only him. Not Queen Maeve, not Black Noir, not The Deep, but him. John also liked when you cared for him, when he’d lay his head in your lap and you’d gently brush your fingers through his hair while you tended to whatever you were doing. 

It was a nice thing you had going, and neither of you would change it for anything. He got into bed with you while leaving space between your bodies so he wouldn’t accidentally touch where you were hurt. “Come closer.” You whispered to him.

You watched as he hesitated for a moment before adjusting himself so he was closer to you, plopping your head on his chest and his arm wrapping around you as a protective instinct. You immediately felt safer in his arms, falling asleep within minutes. John watched you as you slept, only thinking about one thing. He’d do anything to keep you safe and by his side, even if it meant killing everyone who was against it. He’d do anything for you. 

[gravehags]

falling so badly (i'm coming apart)

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: EXPLICIT, MDNI

Tags: making out, love confessions, reader is a virgin, idiots in love, masturbation, copia being a possessive little sex freak, gay trauma, vague mention of suicidal ideation, paintless copia, vulnerability, donuts

Words: 6,189

Summary: Oh, to be wooed by a Satanic cardinal.

a/n: well this was supposed to be one fic and now it's looking like it's getting split up into multiple because these hoes (me) don't know how to shut the fuck up. takes place immediately after the events of satan baby! made myself sad writing about their respective trauma so y'all better fucking like this lmao and you can expect a couple more installments :) i promise they'll eventually fuck nasty (tender)

divider by @gothdaddyissues!

It takes an absurdly long time for the two of you to finally reach your rooms between Copia routinely pausing to push you against the nearest wall with his fingers buried in your hair, lips slotted against yours and you doing the same to him.

His paints are a mess and you know half of them are now on your face but it matters little to either of you. Your right hand carries the bag full of gifts you received that evening while the left is entwined with Copia’s large, leather clad one and the sight makes you grin with pure delight. Finally, you took the step you’ve been dying to for months and your risk has more than paid off. Now here you are, standing outside your door hand in hand with your beloved giving each other a sideways glance. You set down your bag and turn to face him.

“Would you…would you like to come in?”

Your voice is a little shaky and you know exactly why as you watch the Cardinal gnaw on his lower lip and fidget. This has the potential to be a huge night for you, in more ways than one, and the anxiety in your stomach bubbles. He looks as if he is struggling as he lets out a deep sigh and your heart plummets.

“Dolcezza, I…” he squeezes his eyes shut, “I would love nothing more. Truly, you have no…no idea how much I desire…” 

When he reopens his eyes his gaze is hungry and you nearly gasp at the way his eyes slowly drag over the shape of you. “How I…cazzo, bellezza you have no idea how mad you make me.”

“The feeling’s mutual, believe me,” you murmur, tilting your head and watching him curiously. You’re not sure if your ears are playing tricks on you but you swear you hear him groan.

“Eh, y-yes. Well. That being said as much as I would love to…to…stay,” he says the word carefully, deliberately, “first I would like to have the chance to eh…to woo you.”

You almost laugh but suppress it when you see how earnestly he looks at you. Your beloved Cardinal. The man who took care of you when you were drunk, the man you called upon to be by your side as you cried. The man who sat in your office multiple days a week, making stupid jokes and flirting with you. Who haunted your dreams. Who listened to you vent and excitedly explain. You would do anything for him. Anything he wanted, and you suspect he would do the same for you. So you smile.

“I think it’s safe to say you’ve sufficiently wooed me for the past nine months but I’ll never say no to romance. That’s very thoughtful of you, Copia.”

You watch him blush and you know you have a gooey expression on your face.

“Bene. Bene! I just…want to give you everything you deserve. T-to take you out. Spend time…more time with you.”

Everything you deserve. You don’t know if you deserve it but you know what you want. And while it’s clear he’s not going to indulge that particular desire tonight that doesn’t mean you can’t give him a little tease, right? Slowly you lean forward to wrap your arms around him, breathing in the smoky smell of his cologne on his pellegrina. You can hear him inhale deep as his nose trails along your neck and one of his hands tentatively slides along the small of your back. You just hold him for a moment and allow him to relax into your embrace before putting your lips to his ear and murmuring your killing blow.

“I’ve waited this long, I suppose I can stay a virgin a while longer.”

His breath comes so sharp he nearly hiccups as you place a kiss to the tip of his carefully crafted sideburn and pull away. His pupils are blown, mouth hanging open and practically panting. He looks like he wants to say something but all that comes out is a slight whine. 

“Goodnight, Copia,” you murmur, picking your bag up and opening your door. You step through the threshold and turn back to face him.

“Good–” his voice comes out high and pained, “goodnight, cara mia.”

Your eyes flick over him, echoing the way he looked at you earlier, and there is an ache at the juncture of your thighs when you see the not insignificant bulge tenting his cassock. He starts when he realizes what you’ve seen, hands dropping to mask himself but the damage has been done. You shut the door with a quiet snap and you hear a rough “cazzo” being snarled through the wood. Between his kisses and that…you certainly have enough material to take care of yourself tonight. 

And you do just that.

–

He’s practically running to get to the safety of his quarters, praying to Sathanas that no one stumbles upon him in this state. His mind has to stay blank, to steer clear of the bombshell you just casually dropped on him with a kiss and a smile. If he dwells on it too long he’s going to make a mess in his trousers and he does not want to have to explain that to the abbey launderers. 

Again. 

His prayers are answered as he pants in front of his door, having steered clear of anyone who could be wandering the halls. He fumbles with his keys, hands shaking as he manages to open the door and bolt inside. It’s cold in his rooms but all of a sudden he’s too hot, the wool of his cassock restricting as he shucks off his gloves and fumbles for the buttons. He only gets halfway through with them before losing patience and tearing the garment up and over his head and throwing it to the ground. His suspenders are slid off his shoulders with such force one of them comes detached from its button on his waistband and he viciously untucks his shirt. His cock throbs as he growls and undoes the buttons, toeing off his shoes at the same time. 

“Merda,” he hisses, aware of the mess he’s making for himself but he doesn’t care. All he can think about is unzipping his pants and sliding his underwear down before collapsing to his knees. A virgin. She’s a fucking virgin. He knows he won’t last long but he spits into his palm and takes himself in hand all the same, whimpering when his thumb brushes against the swollen head. Your name spills from his lips as he wetly slides his fist up and down, thinking of the way your tongue felt gliding against his when he had you pushed up against the wall. The soft little whimpers you made into his mouth, the way your fingernails scratched at the base of his scalp. Was he the first to ignite such passions in your heart? He groans at the thought, the sound of skin on skin deafening in the dimly lit room.

“W-what a g-gift you’re giving your C-Cardinal,” he grunts, “bellezza mia–ah–my p-perfect girl. So good for me. I will make you–augh–sing.”

His knees protest the position but his hips flex upwards, rutting into his fist. When he cums it’s with a growl, imagining you blushing beneath him with your pretty mouth hanging open in a moan. Each spurt paints his chest, clinging to the abundance of fine brown hairs and dripping down his stomach. His head falls back as he pants in the dark of his sitting room, still gripping his cock. It’s usually at this point the shame begins to wash over him for imagining you so lewdly but…you were all but his now, were you not? His lips curl into a devious smile and he chuckles thinking about how sweetly you kissed him tonight - and let him kiss you. How you tease him so, the little game the two of you have played over the past months. His dolcezza. And no one else’s. He would make sure of that. When his head falls forward again to look down he sucks in a breath at the sight of his cock swelling in his grip. Hard again, and so soon? The power you hold over him is unthinkable and he aches to tell you so. And speaking of ache…his back and knees both throb but all he can think about is the smell of your perfume and the taste of mulled wine on your mouth. His beloved…oh how he longs to worship you, to spread your legs and nestle himself between them to lap at your cunt. The thought drives his fist to move once more, mouth hanging open. He should haul himself up, drag himself to his bedroom and into the shower but all he can think of is you. You come as easily to him as breathing, you always have. He’s panting as he thinks about all the sweet sounds he will eke out of you, of you giving him the honor of having you. And he would not make you regret it - content to ravish you with fingers and tongue and cock until you beg him to stop. As he continues to furiously stroke himself his mind wanders to your first confession when you had told him about your lustful actions. I want them so fucking badly and it’s so easy to think about them and what they could do to me. What I would let them do to me. A whine is wrenched from his throat and his vision starts to go blurry with the knowledge that you were talking about him. That his sick little fantasies and indulgences were all correct. And as he cums for a second time that night, his seed dripping over his fingers and onto the unforgiving hardwood floor, he’s filled with the most satisfying sense of victory.

—

When you wake up the next morning and stretch in bed until your joints pop, it takes a moment to remember the events of the previous night. You think of your lovely time spent with the Papas, the beautiful gifts you received and…oh. A shit-eating grin stretches your mouth and you bury your face into your pillow to let out a scream. Merry fucking Christmas to you. You finally, finally made the step and told Copia how you feel and it’s like the weight of the world has been lifted from your shoulders. And not only did you tell him, he reciprocated the feelings. He likes you. With a sigh you stare up at the dark wooden beams and rub your eyes til you see spots.

And then you remember.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?!” you half-shout into your bedroom, hand flying to your mouth in horror. He told you he wanted to woo you, to be sweet and treat you like you deserve and you…you idiot. Why did you feel the need to divulge one of your deepest secrets to a man you literally just told you cared for? God, that mulled wine did a number on you. What he must think of you…you look to your left and unplug your phone from the charger with every intent of texting him and apologizing for your behavior but before you can your screen lights back up with a notification.

Buongiorno, amore! I hope you slept well! Last night feels like a dream…one I wish to never awaken from.

Your phone vibrates again.

That is, I would like to awaken so that I might see you again.

And again.

It does not make last night any less dreamy, though.

You snort as your gaze goes to the ceiling. Idiot. Your idiot. Clearly you hadn’t been too off-putting, then. Sitting up you scoot backwards and type.

Morning, Copia. Thanks again for being so lovely last night <3

You type out your next thought, then hesitate.

I slept with your necklace on last night to keep you close to me. Is that weird?

Ehh…now that is off-putting. You move your thumb to delete the text and end up hitting the send button instead.

“Shitting fuck!” You fling yourself back down onto the mattress and groan with your eyes scrunched shut. Great. Now not only are you a virgin, you’re a cringe little simp too. Your phone vibrates but it takes another couple of minutes before you get the courage to look at what you’ve wrought. Finally you crack one eye open and glance at your screen.

Dolcezza. My dolcezza…you are too kind to this old man, I don’t deserve you but I adore you.

The candidness of his words makes you melt, curling into the covers to hunch over your phone. I don’t deserve you, what bullshit.

Copia, I am the very least you deserve. And I adore you back. Are you busy today?

The thought of seeing him always brought butterflies to your stomach but now they feel a little more exciting.

Nope! Yesterday was the start of the holiday, remember?

Shit, that’s right. You have the next two weeks off (with pay, Sister Imperator graciously informed you, much to your shock) and this was after you already had some time off to celebrate the holidays with your family. Truly you couldn’t imagine a better gig.

Duh, sorry! If you have a chance today, I’d love to see you. No pressure though!

Were you being too needy? You did just confess your feelings for one another last night. The quickness with which your phone vibrates again makes you jolt.

Amore mio, I am already on my way to your quarters xxx

The goofy, dreamy smile that blooms on your face disappears with alarming speed. Shit! He’s on his way!

You practically fall out of bed after flinging the covers back and immediately shudder at how fucking cold your room is. Quickly, you strip and fumble through your drawers for some fresh clothes. Something casual but not too casual…wait. Hold the fucking bus. You look down at your phone again to check the time.

8:54 AM

Growling, you slam your dresser drawer. If you were meeting Copia at this time pre-events of last night you’d throw on a pair of leggings and a big cropped shirt and call it good. So that’s exactly what you’re going to do right now. He didn’t fall for you perfectly coiffed and styled, he fell for you being a hot mess. You never had to wear a mask in front of him before and you’re not about to start. Not after some of the shit he’s heard come out of your mouth up to and including last night. 

Anyway.

The shirt you pick is soft and well-loved, the gold grucifix he gifted you last night catching the light on your clavicle. Before leaving your room you give yourself a couple of spritzes of perfume and grab your phone. You barely have a minute to yawn in your living room when there’s a soft knock at your door. You count for five giddy seconds before walking over and opening it and you give the man before you a sleepy smile. He’s wearing what you have come to know as his “leisure clothes”, still sporting his paints despite the fact that it’s early and he’s off duty. 

“Buongiorno,” he says softly, hands fidgeting.

“Hey,” you murmur, your smile widening. The two of you stand on the threshold in silence for almost a minute when he lunges at you. The action makes you gasp but any sound from your mouth is muffled when he slots his own over it. You’re content to let him lick into your mouth for a moment, his gloved hands gripping at your waist when you come to a realization and shove him off you.

“Oh gross,” you back away and he looks horrified as if he’s done something terribly wrong, “It’s not you! I forgot to brush my teeth, shit. Sorry, sorry - give me a minute!”

He says something but you don’t hear it as you dash back into your room and take care of business, snorting at the way you’re once again smeared with his lip paint as you scrub. After you finish you take a moment to clean the black marks off your lips before returning to your living room. He still dutifully stands there, hands behind his back.

“Eh–mmph!”

You don’t give him the opportunity to say whatever he wants to say because in two strides you’ve launched yourself into his arms and latched your lips onto his. Gripping the sides of his red velour jacket you pull him towards your couch until his legs bump up against it and with an inelegant shove you push him down onto the cushions. The way he looks up at you, hair tousled and mismatched eyes filled with adoration, makes your heart feel like it’s about to burst. You cup his face in your hands, running your thumbs over his freckled cheekbones.

“Copia…Copia I think I lo–”

A sharp - infuriatingly sharp - knock rings out in the room. You growl, your hands dropping from Copia’s face and your heart sinks at the way his shoulders sag. Another knock rings out and you exhale through your nose.

“Sorry,” you murmur to Copia before making your way to the door and opening it. It’s all you can do to not spit out a terse “what?” at the person standing there. The word is halfway out your mouth when Terzo gives you a goofy grin.

“Buongiorno, bella! You slipped away from us last night and oh, how we missed you. I…”

Terzo trails off and you realize that in that short amount of time Copia has sidled up next to you, a frosty expression on his face as he wraps an arm around your waist. You give him a curious look before looking back to Terzo, whose idiotic grin has somehow gotten even wider.

“Well, well, well now this is a surprise, eh? Congratulazioni to you both…”

Copia’s arm tenses around you as Terzo’s attention returns to you.

“So…how can I help you, Terzo?”

“Ah…right. The book you told me about last night…?”

You remember recommending something to him and hum aloud before breaking free of Copia’s grip and walking over to your bookcase. The tension between the Papa and his Cardinal is palpable and you grab the title and hustle back over to the door.

“Here you go. Uh…thanks for welcoming me to your celebration last night. It was lovely.”

He makes an amused noise.

“And productive too, I see. Well we’ll speak again soon, I’ll leave you lovebirds to it. Be safe and ah, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Ciao bella. Ciao Cardinal.”

You give him a tight smile before shutting the door and turning to your companion.

“Bit possessive for less than twenty-four hours in, no?” you say with a sly smile. Copia turns an impressive shade of red and takes a step back from you.

“I-I…I didn’t mean…I’m sorry.”

You had only meant to tease him but it’s clear you’ve struck a nerve.

“Don’t be,” you say gently, moving towards him to place your hands on his chest, “You know how I like to fuck with you. And honestly…it was hot.”

The journey his face goes on makes you laugh out loud before leaning forward and placing a kiss on his cheek.

“That being said, what was that about?”

He lets out a noise in between a groan and a sigh.

“Eh…it’s a long story.”

“Hmm, well last I checked we’ve got the next two weeks off so by all means,” you gesture to the couch, “enlighten me.”

The two of you nestle into the plump cushions, Copia looking apprehensive. You scoot closer to him and sling your leg into his lap, grabbing his hands and holding them in yours. He looks down at your entwined fingers and he smiles softly before letting out a sigh.

“Terzo and I have always had a…well, I don’t think it’s necessarily accurate to call it a rivalry. He’s always found charming people easy whereas I…have always struggled. It started when I was in my late teens at the abbey in Roma - Terzo was a little older and had already taken his vows. There was this boy. Paolo. He was new at the abbey and I was smitten as soon as I saw him. Blonde hair in ringlets that would catch the light…ah dolcezza. And what a voice he had, always standing out in the choir. I was desperate to spend time around him, would accept any scrap of attention he gave me. This went on for months and months, me trailing behind him like a puppy. One day I worked up the courage to make a move and told myself I would approach him at a party that evening. I put on my nicest outfit, oh you should have seen me, cara. My mustache barely there. I thought I looked so dapper. I walked into the party and spotted his blonde curls over by the couch as he was draped on someone else. My heart…stopped. And when I saw who it was he was kissing…well. I’m sure you can guess, eh?”

“Jesus, Copia,” you breathe, squeezing his hand. “That is…incredibly fucked up.”

He nods. “But the worst part was Terzo knew how I felt about him. He knew and he still did it anyway. I cried myself to sleep every night for a week after that. Terzo had the nerve to approach me and tell me that I was ‘too good for him anyway’. Figlio di puttana…I swung on him. Right there in the cloister for everyone to see. The little bastard rat hitting an Emeritus brother. Secondo eventually pulled me off him but I did my damage. In more ways than one - Paolo had seen the whole thing. Wouldn’t look me in the eye anymore and eventually asked for a transfer to Puglia. I never saw him again.”

He gives you a sad smile.

“Needless to say it wasn’t the first time that would happen. And Terzo would always say ‘you were too good for them, topolino, they don’t deserve you’. Well it would have been fucking nice to learn for myself, huh? When I left the Roma abbey at twenty-one and was sent abroad I was finally able to come into my own. So eh. Now you understand why I acted…the way I acted. Mi dispiace.”

“Don’t apologize,” you say softly, reaching a hand up to stroke his cheek. “I…I get it. We all have our trauma about relationships. I’ll tell you about mine in a minute but I do have to tell you this now…Terzo knew how I felt about you. Saw it almost immediately. Always encouraged me to approach you or spend time with you even when I felt self conscious about it. I can’t speak to his motivations when you were younger but I think he wanted us to get here. I mean, is it selfish and fucked up of me to want to thank him for getting you here?”

Copia nuzzles into your palm before turning his head and placing a kiss there.

“No, tesoro. I don’t think so. And…” he pauses, thoughtful, “perhaps Terzo knew none of those people were meant for me. Ah, that’s silly.” He shakes off the thought and leans over to kiss you on the forehead before looking at you with a cocked head.

“I..I suppose you want to hear my tale then?”

Your hand falls from his face and he nods.

“Only if you wish to share it.”

A deep gut-wreching sigh comes out of you and your hands fall to your lap.

“So, um. Middle school right? I was twelve. Odd…odd kid. Didn’t really have any friends, just a lot of people I hung around. Anyway, this new girl starts at my school in my grade. Hayley. She was the most beautiful thing I’d seen - long blonde hair, tall, big blue eyes. And here’s the thing - she was nice to me. Liked me even! I couldn’t believe my luck and I was infatuated. I didn’t even know I liked girls until that point but she was special. So we became friends - best friends, even - and would constantly spend time at each other’s houses. Her parents had a pool so the summer before 8th grade I was always over at her place. One day we’re alone in the water and…Christ, I don’t know what I was thinking…I lean in and peck her on the lips. She freaks out. Starts calling me the nastiest names. Some words I didn’t even know until I heard them coming from her. We get out of the pool and she tells me I have to go home but wouldn’t let me use their phone to call my mom to come pick me up. So I walked home. In my sopping wet bathing suit and flip flops and no towel I walked almost two miles to my house. Jesus, I could’ve been…ugh. Anyway I finally get home to my parents who were flipping out thinking something had happened to me and I just collapsed in the driveway, crying. Sat there on the hot pavement and sobbed and sobbed and told them everything. So you know how it goes, my mom is fucking furious and calls her mom to scream at her for what she did to me, Hayley’s mom screams back calling me some choice fucking slurs. Distinctly remember hearing ‘fat little dyke’ shouted from the receiver. Meanwhile I’m just in my room petrified because I know she’s going to tell everyone when school starts again. Devastated because my only friend whom I adored now was disgusted with me and wanted nothing to do with me. It’s…” for the first time, your voice breaks, “it’s not fucking right for a little girl to go through that, you know? My parents saw the writing on the wall and immediately sent me to therapy but nothing could have prepared me for the first day of school. Kids ignoring me I could handle but their cruelty? Their mockery? I hid in the bathroom every day just fucking suffering. Whenever I saw Hayley it was like a knife in my gut. Finally it…got to a bad point. Like, a really bad point. I almost…anyway. I finally told my parents what was going on and they transferred me to a new school. But, you know, the damage was done.”

You reach up to wipe your tears with a derisive little laugh. Copia makes soft fretting noises at you and raises your hand to his lips to pepper it with kisses.

“Amore…I have no words. No words to describe how…crudele. Children can be so vicious. And for her parents to say such awful things about anyone let alone a child…” he lets out a low growl, “I am so sorry. My bellissima dolcezza…”

“Wow this is not how I pictured this morning going,” you say with a harsh bark of laughter, sniffling, “thought we’d have a little makeout session on the couch then go get some breakfast but you know, here we are. Trauma time.”

He chuckles and the sound warms your heart.

“Thank you for listening,” you whisper before leaning forward to nestle yourself in his lap. “Thank you for always listening, my love.”

Your ear is pressed to his chest and you hear the rumble of one of his little noises.

“And you, amore. We make quite a pair, no?”

You snort inelegantly.

“What, two traumatized, autistic, bisexual bitches?”

Copia lets out a strangled noise and his chest shakes as he dissolves into laughter with his eyes closed. You lean up and peck a kiss onto his jaw.

“So…breakfast?”

“Excellent idea,” Copia says, groaning as you shift off of him and into a standing position. You take his hands and haul him off the couch, still holding on even after he’s up.

“Promise me you’ll tell me about these someday?” you say, gesturing to his gloves. He shifts to his other foot and gnaws on his lower lip.

“Eh…yes. Another long story for another time.”

You sense his discomfort and you have no desire to press the issue. Instead you press your hand to the small of his back and steer him towards the door.

“Trying to get rid of me, tesoro?”

“Hardly,” you say, opening the door and urging him out, “I wanna get down to the dining hall while there’s still donuts.”

—

The rest of the morning is deliciously lazy, with the two of you lingering over your meal long past anyone else. You’ve gotten more than one curious look from a passing sibling, whose eyes flick from your clasped hands to the way you gaze at him, resting your face on your propped up hand. You continue to pick at your scrambled eggs long after they’ve gone cold, content to listen to him ramble (the current topic is medieval Satanic mystics.) He’s filled with such a wealth of knowledge it honestly leaves you in awe, as well as makes you a little giddy to know you have access to him and his beautiful, silly brain whenever you like. Yours. He’s yours. Your eyes trace the hollows of his eyes, masked by black paint, down the length of his long nose, across the spattering of freckles on his cheeks and down to his lips. His plump, soft lips and the way they felt molded to yours. The way he had you pressed against the stone wall of that empty corridor, groaning into your mouth and fisting your hair, his thigh slotted between your legs to press right up against your–

“Cara? Did you hear what I said?”

“Mmm…h-huh what? Sorry?”

The last word comes out of your mouth a little loud and very panicked and Copia cocks his head at you, looking alarmed. You clear your throat and smile sheepishly at him, hoping to God and Satan he didn’t notice you looking at him like that.

“I asked what you would like to do for the rest of the day?”

“I–oh! Uh…what time is it?”

He looks down at his watch.

“Almost 11.”

You rub your eyes. While you might have slept well last night, all of a sudden you’re bone tired. Rehashing horrible life events will do that, you suppose.

“How do you feel about going back to bed?”

Now it’s Copia’s turn to look panicked.

“What bed? Your bed?”

“Yeah, we can nap for a few hours then…I don’t know. Watch TV. Take a walk. Whatever.”

“A nap, right,” he laughs, eyes darting, “ah…I don’t know if that’s a good idea, dolcezza.”

A sinister little grin unfurls on your lips.

“Oh yeah? Don’t trust me? Think I’m going to take advantage of you?”

His face flushes so fast you’re honestly impressed.

“N-not quite eh…cazzo. Diavoletta mia, you are making this very difficult.”

“Oh that’s a new one,” you murmur, running a fingernail over his knuckles. “Diavoletta mia, I like that.”

He gives you a pained look, one that tells you how desperately he’s holding back right now and it makes you ache. All he needs to do is say the word and you’d let him have you. He’s held your mind and soul in the palm of his hand for months now, to give him your body would be your honor. And pleasure. But instead you smile gently at him, knowing how badly he wants to treat you right. You love him for it but goddamn your vibrator is going to be exhausted in the meantime.

“You know I’m just giving you a hard time, right?” You wince at your choice of word and judging from the way his eye twitches, so does he so you redirect. “C’mon, let’s grab a couple more donuts for later then go get some rest, huh?”

The trip back to your quarters is uneventful, both hands occupied with clutching your prized donuts wrapped in napkins, which you deposit on the counter of your kitchenette. Copia hasn’t said a peep since you left the dining hall and it’s got you anxious, worried that your suggestive behavior earlier was off-putting. 

“Hey,” you murmur, raising your hand to lightly grasp at his bicep and run your thumb over the muscle lovingly, “what’s on your mind?”

“Eh, n-nothing, nothing. I’m fine, dolcezza.”

He’s not, and you know he’s not, but you don’t interrogate him further. Instead you take him by the hand and drag him to the doorway of your bedroom.

“I think some well-deserved rest will do us both good, my love.” His mustache twitches in a smile at the endearment which makes you feel relieved.

“Do you want to…um…” you gesture at his eye paint and he looks like a startled deer once again.

“I–yes. Yes, of course. My paints.”

Disengaging from him you walk to your linen closet and procure a washcloth which he takes and shuffles into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. You sigh and rub your eyes before throwing your mussed covers back and climbing into bed. Your phone gets plugged in before you settle on your side with your back facing the bathroom. Minutes go by - you’re not sure how many - and you open your mouth to holler your concern at him but ultimately stop yourself. The door opens quietly almost a minute later but you don’t turn to look at him, instead waiting for him to round the other side of the bed. When he does, you muffle a gasp at his wonderfully bare face. He nudges his shoes off and removes his sweatshirt, leaving him in a short-sleeved black t-shirt and his gloves. You’re overwhelmed - he might as well be stark naked before you for all the pale, freckled flesh you see - holding your breath as he silently peels the covers back and climbs into bed next to you. He settles on his back, staring at the beams on the ceiling and clenching his jaw. You scoot your body nearer to him, and place your fingers on his chin to tilt his face in your direction. He obligingly shifts onto his side, eyes darting everywhere but your gaze.

“Copia,” you whisper, taking in his deep-set eyes, the dark circles normally masked by black paint, and the long brown eyelashes, “you’re beautiful.”

He sucks in a breath and blinks at you, lips parted and pink from where he scrubbed the lipstick off.

“Amore…you…” he sighs heavily, “why do you care for this old man?”

You want to make a joke about hierophilia but can tell from his face this is not the time. So you settle for raw honesty.

“Copia…how could I not? After all the ways you’ve shown you care for me, how could I feel any other way about you? I—“

You can feel a lump forming in your throat so you distract yourself by raising your hand and tracing his crows feet and lines in his forehead.

“Copia, I don’t know of a better way to say this because I’ve never said it before but…I love you. I love everything about you - your mind, your wrinkles, your mustache. The grey in your hair and the way your ass looks in your cassocks,” he chokes out a laugh and leans into your touch, “Your kindness. Your infinite patience with me. The way you’re looking at me right now. I know we just…I don’t know became an item last night but…Copia you have to know I’ve loved you all along.”

Your tears are flowing freely at this point, sliding down your cheeks to soak your pillow and he brings a hand to the back of your head to draw you further towards him. Gently he kisses the salty trails on your cheeks, lips reverently brushing over your features. He addresses you by your name - not an endearment - and presses his forehead to yours.

“Ti amo, ti amo, ti amo,” he murmurs hoarsely, “you are my everything. Tu sei la mia anima. My world. Thank you.”

You’re not sure how long he cradles your face - long after your tears have dried - and when he finally pulls away you feel both incredibly full and incredibly empty. He rolls onto his back and gently pulls you against him, your chin tucked into his shoulder and hand on his chest.

“Today was a lot,” you murmur, tracing designs into his pectoral.

“Bellezza mia,” he says and you can hear his smile, “the day is not over yet. It’s not even noon.”

You groan and smack him playfully, feeling him shake with laughter beneath you.

“Stop laughing at me and go to sleep, Cardinal Copia.”

He sighs, leather-clad fingers running through your hair.

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead, amore. Your company is far too enjoyable to be unconscious in it.”

It takes all of five more minutes before he starts snoring and you grin, your face pressed against him.

Oh, to be wooed by a Satanic cardinal.

[romanstheory]

Midnight Flowers a Damian Priest One Shot PT 2

Warnings: smut, oral sex (fem recieving), language, male POV

Word Count: 1,740

Part One

Damian

I can't stop thinking about her, the night we had... Or didn't. I stop myself from calling or texting her what feels like a million times that night. I scrub my palms over my face as if that'll get rid of the thought of her. A huff of hot air escapes my nose before I sit back in the chair in the locker room. "You good bro? You haven't been all the way there lately." JD says from beside me. "I'm fine." A lie, a clear lie but I would rather slam my head into the wall than talk to him about it. A nod from him before he leaves the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts before I leave the room as well.

I fucked up and I know I did but does she really have to mess with my head about it? Not mine but she fucked me like she was. Not mine but she owns my thoughts like she is. Selfishly, I wasted her time to get where I wanted to be, but was it worth it if I had it all now and not her? I thought I wanted this championship... El Campeón but without her, it feels pointless. No, what's pointless is to be so hung up on her when she's made her choice. She wants to sit in some bar getting drunk then I guess that's what she gets to do. My jaw tenses before pushing through the curtain and entering the arena. Some would say I was more aggressive tonight than normal, I might agree because I picked up a quick win not bothering to even allow the ref to raise my hand before I stormed up the ramp, Carlito jogging after me.

"What was that about?" He asks, eyebrows raised to his hairline. All I can do is stare at him to avoid the emotional outburst fizzing at the tip of my tongue. "Look hermano you don't gotta talk to me about it but whatever it is you need to resolve it. And I'm not speaking to you as a member of the judgment day... I'm speaking to you as your friend". Once more my jaw ticks "She hates me" The fizzing rage shifts to sorrow. "She fucking hates me and I deserve it". My head hangs to my chest. "Oh... That's what this is about" Carlito rubs his temple. "I keep apologizing and she just... hates me". A long pause of silence makes me regret being vulnerable. "Show her you mean it" Finally he says "She doesn't believe you so show her you mean it".

-

I've been pressing her for weeks, text messages, flowers to her house, I don't know what the hell she wants from me. I've tried every was possible to prove myself to her over and over again and fuck i'm getting tired. "You look awful" Rhea says walking next to me. "You're such a ray of sunshine" I retort quickly. "What's up with you?" She asks, abruptly stopping mid stride. "Nothing". "You're a bloody liar". A deep sigh escapes me "I haven't heard from ... her... in weeks and I've tried everything" Saying her name feels like a criminal offense at this point. "Oh cause she doesn't believe you" Rhea shrugs. "I've said sorry in every way possible dude" Frustration seeps into my veins.

"Did you?" She raises an eyebrow before she walks away. Shit, did I? My match is a quick one, I'm distracted and I think everyone can tell. Back at my hotel I get into a shower so hot it fills the bathroom with a thick blanket of steam, I didn't bother going out with the boys. Water rushes down my body, the impact of the water stinging my skin. The water runs over my head, covering my in an embrace of hot water. Rhea's voice echoes in my head over and over again Did you? My head shoots up... No... I didn't. All she said she wanted from me was my time, that I never gave it to her. Fuck. I'm so damn stupid I still haven't been giving her the only thing she wanted. Quickly I wash and get out of the shower, grabbing my bags and fumbling out of the room. I need to get to her.

-

A three hour drive isn't so bad when you're determined. The sky is a sheet of darkness, stars filling the sky as I pull up in front of her house. The light is on... She's home. I can't help but to feel a tug in my chest where my heart is, like we're connects and I can't stay away. I wonder if she feels it too. I wonder if she feels the longing that I do, I wonder if I've consumed her thoughts the way she has mine. I wonder if she even will let me in. Maybe she'll slam the door in my face, if she did I deserve it. I don't deserve to ever be in her presence again but if I don't knock on this door right now I'll never forgive myself.

Slowly I reach my hand up to knock on the door, palms sweaty, jaw clenched. knock, knock, knock. The tv pauses and I swear my heart does too before the knob turns and the door open... there she is. Big t shirt and I swear there's nothing under. Is that my t shirt? "Luis.." She says eyes wide as if she's trying to convince herself that it's really me "It's two o'clock in the morning". My chest heaves, what the fuck am I even doing here? "I couldn't stay away" I mutter "I can't stop thinking about you I-" The rest of the words escape me. She opens the door wider, allowing me in. "Can we just... Spend time together?" I ask, turning to her.

A softness covers her face. "Please" She replies just above a whisper. We watch her show, somehow the gap between us is eventually closed. "Thank you" She whispers again. She feels like heaven, everything about her is beautiful. "I couldn't stop thinking about you either" She says, eyes not meeting mine "Everyday after that night as the bar I wished that you would somehow end up at my door. Everyday after that night I missed you more and more". My heart clinches again. "I love you" I blurt out "nd even if you never forgive me I don't think I'll ever stop loving you, or thinking about you, or regretting being such a shit boyfriend"

She's silent for a moment "I love you too... I've always loved you, that's why it hurt so bad when you wouldn't give me... This" She gestures wildly at the air. My hand cup her cheek moving her face so our eyes meet. Beautiful. Softly I push our lips together, initiating a passionate kiss. My pulse quickens and the desire to flip her on her back and have my way with her consumes me. "I'll never make the same mistake again" I breathe into her lips. "Prove it" Her voice laced with lust. Softly I lay her on her back, lifting her shirt... my shirt. I was right, there is nothing under here. Slowly I kiss her stomach leaving a trail of kisses down to her plump vagina.

Already soaking for me. My eyes lock on hers while my tongue trails circles around her clit, a soft moan creeps through her lips, something feral purrs inside of me at the sound of her soft voice. Softly I suck her swollen clit between my lips and I slide my fingers into her slowly. My body threatens to release now, but I won't allow it... Not yet. More than anything I want to make slow passionate love to her, more than that I want to feel her, hold her. My belt jingles as I fumble to get my pants down, she lay there watching, that lust coated look smeared across her face. Slowly I line the head of my member up with her warm entrance.

"I want to take my time" I grumble. "Take as long as you want" She replies. Slowly, painfully slowly I push myself into her. Air escapes my lungs at the feel of her. She felt amazing that night so many weeks ago but this, this feels differently. Her warmth surrounds my member while I continue pushing myself into her slowly, deeply. "God damn" My voice hoarse. Over and over again I slowly pull myself out, push myself back in, stroking her like i'll never see her again. Her body melts into mine, the tv in the background is but a muffle, the world around a blur. It's just me and her filling the room with moans and the wet noise coming from her dripping vagina. Wrapping her arms around the back of my neck she pulls me into a deep kiss. Not wild like they had always been before, but controlled and passionate.

It felt as though our souls danced while I deeply pushed myself into her. I palm her breast, her perfect fucking breast and suck it into my mouth. Nipping, sucking and licking it. I can't get close enough to her, can't have enough of her. I quicken my pace, making love to her feels like the best drug. Pressing down on her lower stomach I stroke harder, sending shockwaves through the room. "Oh my fucking god!" She gasps loudly, eyes shooting open. "You like that?" A smirk spreads across my face. "I love that" She moans. Harder, deeper my strokes become more sloppy. "Luis! Oh fuck!" She screams. "Say it again" I demand, slamming into her harder, our bodies clap together like thunder. "Luis!" She screams. Fuck! "Who am I?" I demand.

"Daddy!" She barely gets the word out. Fuck, she is going to be my undoing. "Whose pussy is this?" I growl, slamming into her even harder, my climax approaching. "Yours! Fuck! It's yours!" She screams, her body stiffens, vagina clinches around me. I press myself deep into her before filling her with my load. "Forever, it's mine forever" I say breathlessly.

I took the next two weeks off of work, Hunter was gracious enough not to ask why. We spent every second together. After not having her, I never want to go without her again. A mistake I will never repeat. Mine, she is mine... Forever.

[littelestvic]

About the Damon Baker x Kris Gustin photo session and what it means to me as a queer artist obsessed with Joker Out

Note, this is not me trying to look smart and trying to talk about someone else's art pieces, although my dearest Daria made a small analysis on the Kris-Bojan set that I found very interesting, and it is interesting that these are a somewhat subjective views of Bojan and Kris's souls, or at least a visual representation of themselves as people. In any case, this is, if anything, an overview of what these art pieces make me feel and their significance to me.

First I must admit, as an artist, that these photos are beautiful and actually hold a lot of artistic value from my perspective. I think these should be seen as pieces of art and must be perceived in a different way than other Joker Out photos. However it is still very interesting how much these photos actually talk about the subject: these pieces are an exploration of Kris Gustin, the person portrayed, and I've honestly never have seen portraits that explore the nature of the subject in such a personal manner. Kris is displayed in a subjective, intimate way, whether how Damon sees him or how Kris himself sees himself deep down. I'm sure more elaborate and accurate explanations of Damon's art can be found online, as I actually didn't know of his work until now, but as I was able to read he focus a lot on the intimacy of the subject.

Anyways, there's a clear theme this session follows: femeninity and vulnerability. The usage of visible makeup (a first time for Kris on camera if I'm aware), the flowers, the exposed skin, the cloth (a typical femenine piece of clothing on Balkan/Slavic cultures), I think they were all choices to purposefully provide a more femenine vision of Kris. But he still allows himself to do poses similar to those I've seen him do before, there's still a hint of the Kris I know, his posing flows naturally and doesn't feel forced because this is just a natural extension of what he is, this is a natural exploration of his most femenine side, he is simply letting himself flow.

I think we all know Kris seems to be a man with a complex relationship with normative gender roles. Even as a cishet man he has this appearance and mannerisms that can be more related to a more "femenine" convention of gender and I have always wondered if he has ever struggled with this, and that if he has ever felt forced to keep the normative conventions of what a man should be. Things like asking to have his hair cut shorter after being called a girl when he was a child, or denying to be put makeup on by fans, he sometimes tried to run away from things that could be perceived as "feminine", maybe out of insecurity, maybe out of fear.

But there he is,

Glitter on his eyes,

Flower in his head,

Embracing himself.

I am a person with a complex relationship with gender roles. I was born a woman. I am short and tiny and have feminine features that simply cannot be ignored. I will forever be perceived as a woman by the people around me. I look like a girl, I have long hair because I am not allowed to have it short and I wear women's clothes. And while I don't want to be a girl, my relationship with femininity is actually very strong. I like pretty things, I like sparkles and pink, I like everything girly, I like girls. I've been told it's stupid to perceive myself as a guy since I look so girly, since I like so many girly things, and in times I don't feel I have deserved the masculine pronouns I use and my neutral name I've given myself (the ones I can only use online out of fear).

So I try to put some sense into it. I draw girly things because I like girly things. I draw men because I want to be like men. I draw men in pretty soft pinks and sparkles and sequins because that's what I am.

And I've found a safe place in Kris, with his non conforming masculinity that more often than not becomes femininity. As many other people like me, I like him because he helps me put sense to my feelings. I draw him in soft pastels and pretty clothes and delicate features because in my mind, if a man like him can be allowed to be femenine, then I can allow myself to feel the way I feel too. I can allow myself to simply not fit any binary gender convention, and I can allow myself to be myself. I like Kris because I find a part of me in himself, I relate to him and I see myself in his eyes. It is a complex relationship where I don't necessarily like him because I find him attractive, I am not actually sexually attracted to him; I see myself in him, in my own little weird way. I have distorted my own reality to make my own perception of him fit my needs. This is why I draw him the way I draw him. And perhaps that's why so many praise how I draw Kris. It is unique because it's personal. And I know he doesn't necessarily see himself this way, at least not in the degree I do. My Kris talks much more about how I see myself than how I see him. The way I draw Kris represents myself. My Kris is myself.

So when I saw him in this session, with the glimpse and the passion and the attitude I draw him like, it felt special.

"He looks like my art" I told myself. "He's seen himself the way I see him."

This is Kris,

This is my Kris,

This is me.

So I'm very thankful for Kris trying to open himself, and embracing this vulnerable side of him I purposefully push into the narrative of my art. He called these "therapy sessions", so I can't help but wonder if these have been helpful to him, if he has found something about him, if he has learnt to accept himself the way he is. He has helped me cope with complicated subjects of my life, and I cling to him to keep with life. He is my special little obsession that keeps me alive. So I can't help but sometimes wonder if he's happy, If he's loved, if he's content with himself.

And I think this exploration of himself will be very helpful to his soul. I am very proud of him, I am hopeful for his future, and I wish him the best.

I love you, my muse, and thank you for allowing yourself to see you with my own eyes.

[spidey-x-male-reader]

HOBIE WITH A FTM READER FEELING DYSPHORIC. (plsplshearmeout

Pairing: Hobie Brown (Spider-Punk) x trans male!reader

Requested: yes / no

Warnings: gender dysphoria

A/N: The Gender dysphoria is only very briefly actually described but I feel like mentioning that it's purely based on my experience and might not be the same for everyone

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

MASTERLIST

"Love? Are you in here?" Hobie knocked gently on your bedroom door before slowly opening it. The room was dimly lit, and you could barely be seen under the layers of blankets that engulfed you. You curled up tighter, seeking solace in the warmth and darkness.

"Is that a yes or a no?" Hobie's voice carried a mix of amusement and concern. He approached the bed and sat down on the edge, his eyes fixed on your huddled form. He respected your desire for silence, but he couldn't bear to leave you alone in such a state.

You mumbled from beneath the blanket, "Don't wanna talk about it."

Hobie let out a soft hum and waited patiently. He knew that sometimes you just needed silence. After a while, you rolled onto your back, allowing yourself to look at him again.

"How about now?" he asked, his eyes filled with gentle understanding.

"I don't know..." You gave a small shrug. "It's just... it just sounds stupid."

"Nothing you say sounds stupid, love." Hobie reached out, lightly rubbing your shoulder. "You know I've never judged you for anything."

"Yeah, I know." You sighed, a hint of frustration tingeing your voice. "I just... hate how I am. I hate how I look. Every time I see myself in the mirror, it's like my own skin doesn't belong to me. It sounds so silly, but I can't help it." A quiet sob escaped you, and you instinctively hugged yourself, seeking comfort in your own embrace.

"Oh, Darling..." Hobie's voice grew softer, an unwavering tenderness in his tone. It was the way he always spoke to you, devoid of any kind of judgement. That was why you loved him. "Is it alright if I hug you?"

You studied his expression for a few fleeting moments before nodding slowly.

Without hesitation, Hobie laid down beside you, his arms enveloping you in a warm embrace. He held you close to his chest, creating a safe space within his arms.

"You're beautiful, you know?" His whisper tickled your ear, carrying a sincerity that made your heart flutter. "No matter how you look. And I will always love you, okay? You're perfect."

"Hobie..." Your voice wavered with a mix of gratitude and vulnerability.

"No. I don't want to hear it, love." Hobie's words flowed softly, punctuated by gentle kisses on the side of your head. "You're perfect just the way you are, in my eyes. You'll be alright. And by the way, I happen to know that my boyfriend is absolutely handsome and perfect and I’m so lucky to have him." He chuckled, a soothing sound that warmed your soul. "I love you so much."

[sadceline]

THE ENHYPEN HOST || Special

|| Reverse harem || ft. TXT, Mingyu (Seventeen) & BTS

WARNINGS: foul language, explicit content, group sex, humiliation, sex in public, threesome, foursoome, rough sex, red flags, immoral acts, unprotected sex, morbid jealousy, comedy, parody, possessiveness, violent quarrels, arguments, betrayals, lies, femdom sometimes.

GENRE: +18, reverse harem, comedy, enemy to lovers, friends to lovers

PREVIOUS (FF) CHAPTER:

PREVIOUS (TEXT) CHAPTER:

FIRST CHAPTER:

after the event of TEXT chapter 2....

'Noona what are you doing awake? - Niki mumbles, sleepily, stretching his arm across my thighs at the height of his head and squeezing them. Shit. - Aren't you sleepy... maybe?’ He chuckles, not entirely lucid.

I breathe deeply as I break into a cold sweat. He was close. Close to… discovering me sexting Jake.

But why did I let myself go? I even touched myself, my god - it's fine to be open-minded, but can I handle such an emotional load?

And also the cold way he greeted me. Oh Jaeyun… I know someone like me could never hurt you, but just imagining that I could have annoyed you, that… that makes me anxious, regretful.

There's also Heeseung, him and his stupid way of deluding me. Still, I shouldn't have said those things to him in the hallway, I must have looked pathetic.

But then why does he tell me I'm different? Why does he delude me, even after he allowed what happened with Sunghoon?

And Sunghoon… tomorrow it's his turn. By now I can't rely on his self-control, he'd be able to deny it even as he's doing it.

‘Are you not feeling well?’ He sits on the bed, looking at me. Stupid, if I don't speak I'll make him suspicious. ‘No! Everything's fine!’ Niki squints sleepily, he's looking at me, then reaches out to turn on the lamp on the bedside table. ‘Noona your cheeks are red, do you have a fever or…’

Oh no. I'm really vulnerable right now, I'm not even one to settle for coming once… I really want to sneak into Jake's room.

I stroke his hair and smile nervously. ‘It's okay, let's sleep now.’ He squeezes his shoulders not very convinced but lies back down. ‘Whatever.’

I feign serenity as I get comfortable on my side. I'm not comfortable or even serene, in fact I'm not sleepy because I slept in the afternoon, but if we're being honest, how do you relax with a guy over six feet, with shoulders as wide as galleons and completely naked except for his underwear (according to him ‘he can't sleep in his pyjamas’)?

Eventually time passes in the half-light and although Niki keeps tossing and turning in bed, by dint of staring at the wall in front of me I manage to close my eyes. It's a light sleep, I know I could wake up at any moment, but I still manage to sleep for a while.

At least when, as I turn over, I don't notice a few sighs that are a little too misunderstandable. I don't pay too much attention to it at first, trying to get back to sleep, but I sense that I'm very tense even as I sleep.

‘Ah...’

I hear it but it seems like a sound illusion. After a while I hear it again. It is a restrained moan, followed by deep, intense breaths.

When I open my eyes, confused and sleepy, I catch a glimpse of Niki's beautiful body, faintly illuminated by the various small lights in the room, but not by a direct light source.

Niki is sitting with his back to the headboard, he is… touching himself.

I jerk, as if I've woken up all of a sudden, he stares at me with an absorbed but not surprised expression. Even as he sees me shocked by the situation, he doesn't try to clarify, he just looks me in the eyes and continues to squeeze his cock.

His hand keeps moving, his tapering fingers tightening around his length, moist, veiny, sliding from bottom to top in front of me, unashamedly.

I swallow, having looked away. So far I haven't been able to do this, but when I begin to observe his face to try to decipher his intentions, he simply bites his lip.

Come on… please… so I end up dying.

I swallow, turning away. This is still his room, this is his kingdom, but… I mean, it's not socially acceptable, I suppose.

Of course, there's very little that's normal about this situation, maybe I shouldn't even be surprised, but… I mean, if it had been anyone else, I would have really jumped him.

Every time I try to catch a glimpse of his expression, he just looks me in the eye and jerks off.

No.

No...

‘Noona I said I won't do it - he tells me, catching my gaze again, which continually sags downwards but then tries to come back up, regretfully. - Really… ah… but could I just look at you?’

I blink, is he serious?

He bites his lip again, with more anger, god, he's beautiful. His involved, pained expression increases my blood pressure, my pulse, I feel like by dint of restraint myself, my brain is literally next to explode.

‘N-No.’ ‘Do you hate me?’ He asks then. ‘No I don't hate you!’ ‘Then… - he says, shifting his gaze to my body covered by the oversized t-shirt - let me see just a little…’

He speaks alternating between moans, deep breaths, as he stretches out the words making his vocal cords vibrate like those of a bass guitar.

Shit.

I let out a long sigh, agitated, worried. I don't even look at his face as I clench the edges of my shirt with my fists, desperately trying to calm myself down. ‘D-Do you really not touch?’ He stares at my hands, then biting his lip lifts his gaze and smiles. ‘Well… I know you don't want to fuck.’

I… I know that's not a real answer. He didn't answer my question, but he still reassured me, I guess I can be okay with it. I mean, I want to be okay with it.

I swallow again, my hands shaking as I lift my shirt, but it's not out of shyness. I'm just damn horny and the idea of him touching himself while watching me is driving me crazy, but I have to keep control, a dignity, keep my words.

‘Oh fuck,’ he says, when I am left only in my briefs, sitting on my knees and deeply embarrassed. Niki squeezes him tighter, you can tell by the way he spreads his bare, toned, dry, white legs better. - You have such pretty tits.’

God, how fast that hand moves, in front of me. God, how I want to be, that hand.

‘Fuck… fuck… - He says, still, as he opens his mouth, spreading it wider and wider, his wrist moving fast, faster and faster, so fast that it brings him to orgasm, which he voluntarily directs at me, coming on my thighs. - Fuck…’

Well, at least it's over, unfortunately.

‘Oh fuck, you're really weak - he laughs, handing me some tissues and using a few as well, I meanwhile continuing to ponder the fact that I could clean it by licking it (just kidding… how gross) - I love that you do what I tell you.’

Riki, it is assumed that the pleasure moment has ended, so kindly stop saying things like that. THANK YOU.

What a great gurl I am though, going from dom to sub in less than two seconds is something extraordinary, isn't it?

‘O-Ok, now go to sleep though.�� I say, grabbing my shirt and trying to put it back on. Riki stops my wrists, looks at me and smiles. ‘No, I'm not done yet.’ ‘Yes you are.’ I reply nervously. He chuckles amused, then brings his hand to his cock under his boxers, still hard, still throbbing. ‘Does it look like I'm done?’

I remove my hand as my body paralyses and my mind implodes.

‘You said-’ ‘I didn't touch you, you touched me.’ He laughs again. I feel like laughing too, so I turn away. ‘Riki, you know it's not like that… now…’

And nothing, he pulls it out again.

‘Come on… just hold on a couple more times.’ ‘C-Couple?’ ‘Just because I don't want you to lose too many hours of sleep. - He says, then comes closer again, with the fingertip of his index he grazes my hard nipples, I'm still breathing, at least I'm trying. - Now I have touched you. But it's nothing sexual.’ ‘Y-Yes it is.’ He smiles again, this time he grabs it and I moan sorely… sort of. ‘I'm not going to fuck you, whatever, though… I mean, there's nothing wrong with that, isn't?’ He says this before pulling it a little.

I am a river in flood, really.

‘Lie down.’ That sounds like an order. Imagine if I don't obey. He gets between my legs, kneeling, as he stares down at me from above. ‘You can imagine I'm fucking you, if that helps..’

He then leaves his cock to slip off my panties with both hands, as he does so he is really close to my intimacy, but I can't really do anything. By now I have consented and there is not a cell in my body that wants to stop.

Riki starts touching himself again, I can see his length, his thickness, in their grandeur, it's a great shot. His smug but serious expression, his resumed intense breathing, his balls... in short, so full.

‘Don't you want to touch yourself?’ He asks. I really, really want to, but if I did…. Would I be able to control myself? I have my doubts. ‘W-well, that's fine…’

He looks incredibly annoyed by this, I see his eyebrows arch with irritation as he grabs me by the knees, lifts my ankles onto his broad shoulder and then… shoves it between my thighs, holding me by the same ankles to keep it stable, tight.

Fuck.

‘Oh yeah….even if you don't want me to… fuck you. I want to use you in every way.’ He says, charging harder between my legs, I'm helpless.

To let him do this was like giving up.

He watches me, as I part my moist lips, as I try to remain alert, focused, but my expression is absorbed, confused, as I breathe shallowly, holding myself back, but I am so agitated. My chest seems to burst as he, yes, uses me.

He pulls me even closer to him, this time spreading my legs apart by placing an ankle by each shoulder, forced to show him my pussy. No… he mustn't…. not enter.

I swallow. ‘R-Riki….’ ‘I won't put it in - he reassures me, though he's not too careful, busy resting his big cock between my major lips, starting to move his pelvis more slowly than he did between my legs - that's what you want, isn't it?’

But I had already lost my mind, and I knew this was how it was going to go. How could I just believe I had such self-control? In the end, I don't even know if I should think anything about it.

‘Ah… Riki… - I moan, when his presence starts pressing hard against my clit - this… this… isn't…’ He doesn't allow me to finish my sentence, he closes my legs around his cock again to squeeze it better, and that's when he starts moaning louder. ‘Oh god, yes…’

So beautiful is his expression of pure pleasure, his forehead wrinkled and wet with a few elegant droplets of sweat, which nonetheless… glide over his swollen pecs, imperil his broad shoulders, his long arms, his abdomen so dry and pale, perfectly outlined his abs… wow… he really is a sight, and maybe it's precisely because he's not inside me that I can watch him so intently.

‘I want to cum inside, noona.’ He tells me, as I continue to gasp at his length that continues to stimulate my clit.

I look at him, surprised, but not honestly enough. I… I don't want to say yes, but I don't want to say no to him either, a little because it's like I want to give him everything (apart from sex).

Maybe I should just accept it. Accept that I, for one, don't mind this at all. Accept that no matter what happens, there really is no way to live differently, I have become a host.

As I told Heeseung, I cannot be someone else, not any more.

Beyond what I want to give Riki, I also want to receive, and thinking about it, that's really the only thing I can receive from them: their body.

I should just start thinking like this.

‘O…Okay…’ I whisper, a little scared. The boy wastes no time sticking it in, so fast it hurt, I wasn't even dilated properly, just very very wet. I realise it hurt less in the car because I was a little drunk. ‘Fuck noona, I'm going to fill you up now.’

It's not exactly as he said, he's not just ‘cumming’, no, he's holding me by the hips as his pelvis charges with brute force inside me. I can't close my mouth, it's so fast and abrupt that I have to plug it with my hands.

In the end, I, unable to be someone else, am still me.

And me is afraid that others will know.

Least of all, I don't want them to know.

‘R-Riki - I moan, choking on my breaths, the bed shaking so much that the room itself seems to shake. - Ri….Riki… oh my god, oh god… oh!’

He does it again, still biting his lip before arching his eyebrows menacingly and going even faster, I feel like I'm convulsing. I can't even control my hands clutching desperately at his veiny forearms, maybe I'm scratching him.

‘Riki… is so g…big…you make me…’ ‘Didn't you notice today?’ ‘I-I know…I-I was a little drunk!’

I see him laughing, but seriously, sincerely (all while he keeps wearing me down with blows but ok), he's so cute I want to bite him, somewhere, no matter where.

‘You are… ah… so… handsome.’ I said. I'm so involved and happy in this moment that…. it was spontaneous, I wanted to say it and I did.

I doubted that between my own and his moans, this sentence, said faintly and under my breath, could be heard anyway, but though he doesn't stop, Riki looks into my eyes differently, in a more intense way.

He looks like… a man. Not a kid, not a boy but a man, I shudder, but even this feeling is swept away by his impetuousness, brutality.

‘Oh fuck.’ He repeats again, focused. He's lasting so long..... other than coming!

I doubt any girl, while they were having sex, hasn't told him he's handsome. It's the obvious thing to say, to think, especially as his sleek, masculine, imposing body stands naked.

Yet he… he looked surprised, impressed.

The truth is that by dint of acting for work, they've probably learnt to do it really well: although that, however, doesn't explain why they should use these skills with me.

Or, and I think this under my breath because such a thought is so ridiculous, have these guys simply not had enough sexual experience?

Of course, it could be a question of culture.

But what remains more likely for me, and I sincerely think so looking at Riki's eyes, subtle, dark but brilliant, is that this is just a perverse game. Malicious perhaps?

Nothing matters after Riki empties himself inside me, emitting animalistic grumbling but in a whisper. His body trembles with mine, as the last strokes inside my belly assure the owner that his seed is well within.

When Riki moves, the world becomes heavy again.

No matter what I have thought so far, what remains is only a strange emptiness and a deep sense of guilt. I will not ask him again not to tell others, I will let him make his own choice.

I lie in bed for several dozen seconds, then sigh.

‘I'll go wash up.’ I say, getting out of bed naked. ‘Do you want me to come with…’ - Riki stops himself, noticing my vacant expression. - Are you OK?’ ‘I'll go out for a moment later. You go ahead and sleep.’ I explain, putting my shirt back on. ‘What? At this hour? - He asks surprised, now his expression is innocent again and that… disturbs me. - Why? I… noona did I... something-’ ‘No- I sigh a little too heavily. - I just need to take a walk, I'll buy cigarettes in the Convenience Store in the area.’ ‘If you want to smoke I have cigarettes.’ He tells me. ‘Even? Do you smoke as well?’ I ask, sternly. ‘Noona what's going on? - He's the one asking this time. - You are strange. Did it… Maybe disgusted by what we did? Do you hate me?’

I'm not sure but I feel like this is the second time he's asked me if I hate him, but I… of course not, at most I hate myself.

‘No, Riki. It was good. We can do it again if you want.’ I say with my eyes down though, as I pick up my briefs from the floor. ‘It doesn't feel right…. then even if I have a big cock it's no use if I don't have experience, is it?’ ‘Didn't you sleep with that 30-year-old?’ ‘Yes, I fucked a few girls, but not that many. I don't physically have the time.’ He smiles, but is sad.

Is he serious? I don't know, I'm starting not to trust him.

‘You're good in bed, and I think you know it too. - I sigh again, approaching the door. - You didn't do anything wrong, I'm the one who feels weird, but I don't know why. Please throw out your cigarettes and don't smoke. Smokers sucks.’ ‘You're going to buy cigarettes right now.’ I look at him for several seconds in silence, then smile wearily. ‘Indeed.’

Honestly, I am not a smoker, but I have become one at times in my life. After my parents' divorce, after being kicked out of the house by my mother, after being physically but above all psychologically harassed for months by a man who despite reporting me was never arrested or removed, and last but not least, when grew horns on my forehead.

Now, although I think I will buy the pack just to smoke one, I need to breathe sweet venom.

‘I can't let you go out alone at this hour.’ ‘Don't worry, Seoul is less dangerous than any italian city at night.’ Unconvinced, he glares at me. ‘At least take my number, so in case you can call me.’

Alright.

ok i don't know if anyone cares but sorry for the delay actually it's just that i was bothering to translate, boh leave a comment if you like it and never ask for riki again

NEXT CHAPTER:

[kissmetwicekissmedeadly]

Lately all I've been saying about him is stupid sexual jokes so its probably hard to imagine how im crying my eyes out in the middle of the night thinking about him right now

I keep these things private. Not only because it's about my most sacred emotions but also because i have this (perhaps very human and normal) doubt that i would look back at the written words one day and "cringe". But the bigger my emotions are the more i want to express them.

I'm so thankful for Napoleon. Many people might find it extremely lonely to rely on a character like that. But I thought about it, and the truth is, the role he currently has in my life couldn't be taken by any person. It's exactly because it's so unrealistic to have such a perfect lovestory why I'm grateful to experience it in such a way. I'm fine with it. I don't cry because I can't feel him physically, those are happy tears in fact. Because lately I learned something about myself, and that is how big my trust issues are, and how much they grew during the past year. It's scary. I'm pushing people away on purpose. At the same time, all I've ever wanted was love. Even if I'm doing my best trying to see and fix my mistakes, this is who i am today. Napoleon is the source of love I allowed myself five years ago, for the first time. It's silly but while i did have favorite characters before him, i had a mental barrier that prevented me from imagining purely loving scenarios like that. Not because I don't deserve it, but because I felt vulnerable. I don't know what he did. Many have come after him, I keep seeking them out, i play otome and find love stories that cater to all my personal preferences when it comes to these things. But I've only ever opened up myself like that to him.

If i hadn't stumbled across him, i wouldn't have been the same person today. My passion for writing came with him. My reason for making a place in this fandom for myself is because i had love to express. Without this, i wouldn't have made the friends i found here, i wouldn't know how it feels to make so many people laugh, to want to surround myself with people and want to give so many positive emotions to them. I had an extremely isolated childhood. My first friendships weren't healthy because I didn't know what a normal friendship looks like. I'm not an extrovert. I don't think I've fully figured out how to communicate yet, but im learning.

If he was a real person, I wouldn't have listened to him. I wouldn't have trusted him, i wouldn't have opened my heart to him. Because im scared of that. I'm even more scared today when i no longer feel my mother's love, something I didn't see coming, and how she made me realize that not even familial love is absolute.

I'm crying because of how easy it is to love napoleon. To allow myself this love without any doubts that he would hurt me. And i don't let this be a substitute for real love, i won't stop seeking a person who will make me feel like that. But it will hurt when I find them, because that's how it is, at the beginning, I fully accept that.

I have known him since i was 17, and this might be an exaggeration but i feel like he watched me grow. Looking back at the things I've felt for him though the past 5 and a half years it's like reflecting on myself during that time. All the major things that happened during that time, i had at least some thought about how would he feel about it.

I'm scared of the future. I'm scared that if im not in the comfort of my room anymore when I close my eyes at night he would disappear along with it. But he's not tied to a place. I can take him everywhere I go.

I open ikevamp just to hear his voice from the drama cd's ending, and he says the line from the screenshot above and i cry harder. It's extremely rare for me to let out my tears in that way, i know they're happy tears because i just feel love and warmth right now and nothing else.

I feel very vulnerable sharing all of this but somehow i want it written down for a change. I want to let it out as if it's normal instead of viewing it like another feeling that should be locked away.

I might delete it when i wake up but just for tonight it's okay...

[nattysstargirl]

Alone, again.

Mafia!Wanda Maximoff X Reader angst

Brief Mafia!Pietro Maximoff X Reader

Short blurb

Age gap (undisclosed)

I thought the way Pietro treated me was bad, but it was nothing compared to what his sister has done. From him I expect nothing less than selfishness and disloyalty, but her? No. It has been a week since we slept together for the second time and I awoke in her room alone again. I was disappointed and wished that she would have woken me to say goodbye, but I didn’t for a second doubt that we would talk later in the day.

The rose-tinted glasses I have worn since I was old enough to think Wanda Maximoff was a mixture of superhero and goddess, have left me vulnerable to the fact that she is as capable as her brother of using and discarding women. At least Pietro never pretended to be anything different. He told me explicitly that he didn’t love me right before we had sex.

Wanda sucked me in. She gave me a taste of what I have craved for so long. I felt safe with her, protected. My eyes roll every time I think of the warmth I felt when she called me baby or my darlin’. How naive and stupid was I that I thought that meant she cared at all for me? Wherever she has been sleeping this week, she has probably been whispering the same sweet words into another woman’s ear.

My cheeks redden with the humiliation I can’t shake. The feeling that I am pathetic. All I am worth is a political marriage. My mother can’t see me past her self-obsession and my father, he sees me as a pawn in his miniature game of thrones. My half-brother fucking kidnapped me, for goodness sake. The fact remains that the only person who I have ever truly felt loved by is Bucky and he has been lying to me too.

He spends more time with Sam than he does with me now anyway and I feel our special bond slipping away. I’m glad I have Natasha, but our friendship is still new. We bond over work dramas, the gym members who hit on us, and all the normal bullshit. We hang out, but she doesn’t know all the inner workings of my complicated life. The past week I have been a zombie.

I don’t want to speak with anyone. I have stayed at the Maximoff house because being near my parents would only make me more miserable, but I haven’t seen Wanda. I snuck into her room the first night in the wee hours of the morning and she wasn’t there. Her bed was still as I had made it that morning. The second day I text her.

Y/N: Hey? Is everything ok?

But I didn't get a response. That was when I knew that she was avoiding me. There was no alarm in the rest of the family that she was missing or out of touch. It was just me she avoided. Bucky tried to comfort me. He called his cousin all sorts of names and was on my side. But he kept pushing me back towards Pietro. His solution to my heartbreak was for me to throw myself into my sham marriage.

“You’re only saying that because it’s what the Famiglia wants!” I screamed at him. “When did you stop giving a shit about me!”

The guilt on his face told me I was right. He was working toward an agenda, not caring about his oldest friend. Interestingly, Piet has been nice this week. His cheerfulness has been a reprieve from all the angst. He took me out for brunch on the third day and although it was nice, his hand on my lower back as we walked through the cafe felt wrong. He is the only one who seems to get how shit it is to have your life at total mercy to what the Famiglia dictates.

We have bonded over our mutual hatred of the control being exerted over us. Now, it’s six nights since I last saw Wanda and I’ve sent several texts which have all received no response. Miserable, I sneak into her room again. I can’t sleep and pathetically, I think maybe if she still isn’t there, I could just sleep in her bed.

Maybe her scent on her pillows will help me drift off. I pad barefoot down the hallway wearing one of Bucky’s massive t-shirts and slip into Wanda’s room. I pause, allowing my eyes to adjust to the dark room before tip-toeing toward the bed. A dark form lies entangled in the blankets. She is home. She’s here and she didn’t reply to a single text or check I am ok. I want to throw things at her sleeping body. Wake her up with my hurt screams.

But instead, I walk around to the other side of the bed and slip under the covers. I crawl over to her and turn around so my back is to her. I rest my head gently on the bicep of her outstretched arm and she instinctively pulls me in close, curling her body around mine. I loathe how good it feels. My eyes fill with tears and my heart with self-hatred.

“Y/N,” Wanda groans, sleepy and exasperated, a few moments later.

“I hate you,” I reply, my voice thick as I battle the tears threatening to fall.

She is silent for a moment and then sighs. “I know, baby. I hate myself too. Go to sleep.”

And I do. In her arms, I slip into the easiest sleep I have had all week. I know that the morning will bring with it more heartache. She will push me away again. But for now, I feel safe and exactly where I’m meant to be. I wake up before Wanda. She is still wrapped around me, and every fiber of my being cries out for me to burrow deeper into her arms and go back to sleep. Thankfully, I have a tiny bit of self-preservation left, and instead, I gently peel her off me and creep back to my own bed. Sliding into the cold sheets feels like salt in the wounds of the past week, but I do it because I can’t bear the thought of waking alone in her bed again.

[thewanderersminuet]

Dear lover this is the last time

Rating: T

Relationship:Toxigriffe/Marigriffe

Tags: Paris Special, reverse crush, light angst, rated T for cursing

Summary:

Try as she might, Marinette hasn't been able to get Griffe Noire out of her head. That's why it's such a shock when he turns up on her balcony.

I wrote the first work in this series in a daze of inspiration and had originally planned to just leave it at that. A lot of people wanted more, and when I saw that day 1 of @marinettemarch was Shadybug I realized I had to write this as a follow up. (Even if she's not Toxinelle through most of this.) This is a sequel, while I would reccomend reading the first work in this series, if you haven't the main takeaway is that Toxigriffe got their own umbrella moment and now Marinette is down bad.

Thank you so much to @ladyofthenoodle for looking this over for me. The title is from the same song as the first work.

[Previous work]

[Read on AO3]

The noise of spray paint filled Toxinelle's ears. Another boring day of looking for leads to the hole Hesperia crawled into. Another boring day of coming up empty handed. Toxinelle found it hard to complain however; she was too busy being transfixed on Griffe's goofy grin as he spray painted a cat on the wall. 

She was only a split second too late to look away when he turned back to her. 

“Admiring the view?” He waggled his eyebrows at her and struck an exaggerated pose. 

Her heart beat hard in her chest. This time it wasn't her embarrassingly huge crush, but fear. She had to remind herself that the feeling of bugs crawling up and down her arms was just in her head.

Deny, deny deny. 

“I was just thinking about how stupid you looked with paint on your face.” Somehow her voice managed to come out even despite her panic. 

His face twisted comically into shock. He pulled out his baton to use as a mirror to see his face. The paint was on the cheek that had been faced away from her, she didn't see it until he turned to her. She hoped he didn't notice. 

He grinned as he placed his hand at his chin and examined himself. It was so goofy and Toxinelle wanted to scream when she realized she found it cute. 

“I don't know,” He said, putting his baton away and shooting her a shit-eating grin. “I think I look awfully char-meow-ing myself. Maybe you're just projecting, Cockroach.” 

“Whatever.” She wrapped her arms protectively around herself and turned away from him. 

It was fine. She'd been called worse. Besides, she'd been the one to start the insults. 

Still, she couldn't help but wish he wouldn't take to their back and forth with such glee. 

She let out a frustrated sigh and pulled her yo-yo out. 

“Leaving so soon?” He said. 

She couldn't decide if she wanted to punch that grin off his face or kiss it. 

“Sorry, watching you paint cats that look like they need to be put down is not exactly my idea of fun.” She turned her burning face away from him before he could accuse her of being the liar that she was.

“Suit yourself.” He said. 

The sound of spray paint filled her ears once more. Somehow, that hurt more than any of his insults. 

*******************************************************

Marinette dropped from her skylight and onto her bed. As soon as she dropped her transformation she buried her face in her pillow. She couldn't bear to see the pity she knew would be in Tikki's eyes. The supreme had told her that the kwami was nothing more than a means to an end. An object to allow her to transform. Despite this, sometimes Marinette swore she could see Tikki looking at her with genuine care.

She hated it .

It made her feel too raw, too vulnerable. It was too close to everything she really wanted. The fact that Tikki, by all rights, should hate her only made it worse.

Marinette rolled over onto her side and wrapped her arms around herself protectively. Her thoughts drifted to Griffe Noire and that day they’d eaten snacks under his umbrella.

The Supreme had made it clear, although they were to work together, only one of them would be spared once the missing Miraculous were retrieved. Griffe had no reason to show her the kindness he did that day.

...but that stupid cat did, and now she couldn't get him out of her head.

It drove her crazy. It was stupid that she was secretly excited to drop everything to fight one of Hesperia's champions just because it meant she would get to see him. It was annoying that she could hear his stupid jokes playing in her head when he wasn't around. She hated the hours she wasted fantasizing about another life, with hamsters, cats, and a boy who's name she didn't know.

Marinette clutched a pillow to her chest. It hurt. It hurt that she would never know what he was like outside of the mask. What his normal life was like. That her fantasy would only ever be a fantasy. Even without their Miraculous slowly killing them, she knew Griffe would never see her that way.

There were some days that she caught glimpses of the Griffe she saw in that alley. On patrols where everything would melt away and they could just laugh and enjoy each others company. She would eat up every crumb as if it was the only thing keeping her from starving.

...but most days weren't like that. Most days they argued and bickered. Most days she couldn't help but pick at her stitches.

Griffe was an easy target. Especially when he gave it right back.

A small weight settled on her arm. Marinette turned to find Tikki, her blue eyes wide and filled with exactly what she didn't want to see. Her eyes burned.

She was not going to cry.

Marinette sat up, pointedly avoiding Tikki's gaze.

Air. Air would be good.

Climbing onto her balcony, Marinette felt nothing but relief when she felt the cool night air hit her face. She leaned against the railing and let out a sigh.

Only to be interrupted by the sound of a flower pot falling over and shattering.

“Fuck.”

Marinette recognized that voice long before she whipped around to see who her intruder was. Griffe was frozen next to her murdered pothos.

“Please don't freak out.” Griffe lifted his hands placatingly.

Marinette didn't say anything. She had no idea how to react in this situation. Maybe she should have acted scared to protect her identity, but she was stuck between being pissed at him for breaking her plants, and being giddy at the sight of him on /her/ balcony.

Instead, she crossed her arms and stared back at him.

“Wow.” Griffe said breathlessly. “Most people freak out when they see us.”

“I'm not most people.” Marinette said flatly.

“You're not are you?” Griffe had a look on his face that Marinette had never seen before.

“Wh-what are you doing here?” Marinette desperately tried to keep her voice even despite her nerves.

Griffe perked up and instantly started looking around for something at his feet. Upon finding what he was looking for, he bent to grab it before presenting it to her.

A single red rose.

...That was slightly crushed. The stem was slightly bent and a petal fell off as they both stared at it.

“Uh... sorry about that-” He scratched the back of his neck.

“What's this?” Marinette could barely hear her own words over the way her heart threatened to beat out of her chest.

“It's for you!” A goofy grin spread across his face until he seemed to catch himself. He coughed and straightened up before holding the rose out to her again.

Briefly, Marinette wondered if she was dreaming. It made no sense for Griffe to be bringing Marinette a flower. He didn't even know her. She hesitantly reached out to take it. As if everything might dissolve away the second she made contact.

To her surprise, the world stayed intact as she brought the rose up to her face to sniff it. With nothing else to do with it, she tucked the stem behind her ear. Looking back at Griffe, she was surprised to see a soft smile splitting across his features.

“You don't even know me.” She whispered.

“Well..” Griffe rubbed the back of his neck. “I know you're too cool to be afraid of The Griffe Noire. I think that's enough to merit a flower, don't you?”

“I wouldn't know.” Marinette wrapped her arms around herself and avoided his gaze. Silence fell between them. It seemed even Griffe was left with nothing to say for once. 

“Hey, uh…” Griffe spoke up. “How do you feel about ice cream?” 

“Ice cream?” Marinette swung her head back towards him. 

“Yeah, we could go get some. My treat.” Griffe grinned and held a hand out for her. “I bet you've never traveled by stick before.” 

Marinette eyed the baton on his back warily. He was right, and she wondered how strange it would feel to travel his way for once. 

She turned her attention to his outstretched hand. Part of her screamed to run back inside. Pretend this never happened. He had no reason to be inviting her out, what if it was a trap? Or some elaborate prank? 

Her eyes drifted back up to meet his own. As soon as they did he averted his gaze and Marinette swore she could see a tinge of pink stain his cheeks. 

It was too hard to say no.

A smile spread across her face as she took his hand. Her stomach fluttered with butterflies as she watched his face mirror her own. He pulled her closer and wrapped one arm around her waist. Every point where their bodies made contact felt like it was on fire, and Marinette never wanted it to stop.

“Hold on tight.” He whispered as she wrapped her arms around his neck. 

She was right. It was a completely different feeling to travel over the city in Griffe's arms then via yo-yo. For a moment, she wondered if things had been different if this would be more common. Griffe helping her when there was nothing for her yo-yo to grab onto. Her swooping in to grab Griffe and pull him out of danger at the last moment. 

Griffe sat her on his lap and extended his baton high above the city. From here she could see the city lights stretching for what seemed like forever. She took a moment to drink it all in. Despite having seen such sights as Toxinelle before, she was certain she'd never get used to it. 

Marinette turned back to Griffe, but whatever she had planned to say died in her throat when she noticed him looking at her. His eyes widened comically. Her own cheeks burned and she quickly looked back down to the streets below them. 

“Ice cream?” She squeaked out. 

“O-of course. Uh…” She more felt then saw his head swiveling around, looking for his destination.  “There!” 

He tightened his grip on her and took off fast enough to make her head spin. When they eventually landed, Griffe gently let her down. Marinette quickly realized where they were when she saw the ice cream cart. 

“Andre?” Marinette turned to look at Griffe in surprise. This wasn't just any ice cream. 

Griffe jumped and averted his gaze. He rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Shall we?” He gave her a nervous smile and once again, Marinette was struck by seeing this side of him. 

She took his hand and lead the way. He squeezed her hand as she pulled them to the end of the line. For a moment, everything was strangely normal. Just another couple in line for sweethearts ice cream. 

Until the couple in front of them looked back. 

They screamed. Soon everyone else in line was screaming and running. Griffe and Marinette looked at each other and shrugged. 

“Looks like they're letting us go first.” Griffe flashed her a grin.

“How kind of them.” Marinette couldn't help but return his grin. 

Andre was rushing to try to pack up his own cart. Marinette found it absurd that he could be that scared of Griffe and still take his time to try and save his cart. 

“Hey! Where are you going?” Griffe put a hand on the cart to keep him from fleeing. “All we want is some ice cream.” 

“B-b-b-b-b-b-but- My ice cream is for-” Andre glanced at Marinette and she found herself wondering what he thought was going on. “-for lovers!” 

“And? What's the problem?” Griffe asked. 

Andre didn't answer. He just looked between them as if that'd tell him what to do. 

Marinette caught a familiar grin spreading across Griffe's face. She crossed her arms and took a step back. 

Griffe called on his cataclysm and hovered it over the cart. 

“One ice cream cone and nothing has to be broken tonight.” 

A few minutes later and they were walking down the bank of the Seine, looking for a private place to stop and eat. Griffe carried their cone in one hand. It was raspberry and mint. Marinette was pretty sure the raspberry had to be for her, but the mint confused her. Sure, Griffe had green hair, but it was a lot darker then the color of mint. She wondered if he was just as confused about where the red came from. 

“Have you ever had this ice cream before?” He asked. 

“No.” 

“I'm surprised.” He said. “You seem like the kind of girl to have everyone clamoring to buy her ice cream.” 

Marinette scoffed. What kind of impression did he have of her? “Not really, no.” 

Another uncomfortable silence fell between them. Marinette pretended the billboards were suddenly very interesting. 

At least a Gabriel ad caught her eye. 

She let out a groan. Of course it had Adrien Agreste on it. Did they even have any other models? 

Griffe stopped and followed her line of sight. Once he caught sight of what she was groaning at he froze. 

“Wh-what's the problem?” 

“It’s-” Marinette hesitated, unsure if she wanted to get into it. “It’s the model in that ad.” 

“Not a fan?” Griffe's tail lashed behind him. 

“It's a long story.” 

“I have time.” 

Marinette looked at him, but he refused to meet her gaze, instead focusing on the ice cream. She sighed. 

“Chloé Bourgeois was in the bakery the other day. She had a friend with her.” She gestured over her shoulder to the billboard. “She was bragging about being friends with super famous, super handsome model Adrien Agreste. They were being rude to our other customers so I had to kick them out.” 

Griffe quickly turned to look at her. “Both of them?” 

Marinette blinked, unsure where he was going with this. 

“I mean, they were together.” 

“But—” Griffe tapped his foot. “What makes you so sure he was acting like that too?”

“I—” She was thoroughly confused now. It's not like Griffe had been there. Why did he care anyway? “Yeah, sure. I guess technically Chloe was the only one causing problems but… he's her friend. I have no reason to believe he's any different.”

Griffe went silent again. He wouldn't even look at her. Marinette started to wonder if she did something wrong, but she couldn't figure out what. 

Maybe coming out was a mistake. 

“I— I should go.” She started to step away, only for him to reach out and grab her wrist. 

“Wait. don't go— uh…” He frowned and suddenly it hit her. 

“You don't know my name do you?” She asked. 

“I-” He let go of her and used that hand to rub the back of his neck. “You never gave it to me.” 

“How many times have you had sweethearts’ ice cream before?” She wrapped her arms around herself and looked away. 

Maybe she wasn't being very fair. But it hurt. It hurt to know that he would bring a stranger out to get ice cream with him, but never Toxinelle. 

“N-never!” He said quickly. “Maybe we should start over!” He struck a goofy pose. “My name is Griffe Noire! What's yours?” 

She considered telling him. Telling him and pretending this conversation never happened. Pretend he actually cared about her. 

Instead, she shook her head. 

“Goodbye, Kitty.” 

She shoved her hands in her pockets and took off. Leaving him alone with their untouched ice cream. 

[livelaughghoul]

First of all, thank you sooo much for all the answers you’ve been providing for me. I am the adhd yapper girlie (this is how I identify on your blog from now on lol) and I was so surprised abt you choosing ricciardo for stubborn but yesss it makes total sense.

And also your take on Lewis and Georges emotional side is so interesting.

Recently people were discussing how Lewis said that George always cries or that he cries pretty fast even over stupid stuff like looking at the sky😂😭 and you can see in many post race interviews how George had probably just cried right before ... at least the frustration is a 100% reflecting on his face. So maybe thats the communicative aspect you mentioned. Idk if this is nonsense but his face is deff telling (communicating his feelings)

Whereas Lewis has more of a tendency to hide his feelings. He also talks a lot about how he as a child often felt like he wasn’t allowed to show emotions esp to his dad (natal capricorn sun stuff). And he is now unlearning that and tries to allow himself to be vulnerable. Also in his interviews he always has this “positivity” approach which is imo just a facade and even a bit toxic. Like in his most recent post race after he had a shit day he literally says “Imma stay positive 😀” and rarely ever addresses what the matter is. Idk if it is his Scorpio rising or the overall water influence in his chart. I feel like in private and intimate or close relationships that might make him probably even a bit passive aggressive.

As a certified yapper myself (only when I’m comfortable around someone though), I get it. I love you, and you could never do wrong. Please yap away to me, it brings me joy when I can escape the corporate machine I’ve decided to build a career in :)

I literally love that for Danny Ric though, I feel like he needs that energy in his chart with literally everything else in his life. He’s a precious little stubborn fucker and I miss him.

George being a crier is so funny to me, because SAME. I literally set myself a timer for five minutes every day where I can uncontrollably sob and then I pull it back together and get work done (I’m not kidding, my boss nearly lost his shit the first time he witnessed it). I’m a huge fan of nonverbal communication, and truly believe that there needs to be more an emphasis on nonverbal when it comes to how communicative someone is! Love this energy for George though, because I know this man would join me for one of my midweek one direction cry session in my car (also real, I have a playlist titled “one emotional breakdown” full of the one direction songs I cry to when I’m stressed.

Lewis definitely has the passive aggressive energy to him. While I believe he’s communicative out of the ass with his emotions, I fully believe that he also stonewalls when it gets overwhelming and he shuts down. Toxic positivity is such an ick, but honestly I get. I absolutely am delusional as fuck and smile through my shit show of a life so like, no judgment.

[cherryrainn]

hello my friend!

first I just wanted to say i love your stuff, especially that whole multi-chapter fanfiction you wrote for the Once-Ler, you are an incredible writer! Sent me through every human emotion possible.

Here’s my ask, a gn! reader x Onceler (how do you spell his name 💀)

I was hoping it could just be some wholesome cuddles and lovey stuff, i’m a sap for soft stuff, possibly with some insecurity comfort? i’ve been struggling to like my personality and appearance for a long while, so that’d be wonderful!

Take your time, remember to take breaks, and don’t worry if you can’t do this ask, it’s no problem at all!

Much love! 💕

thank you for your kind words! writing that angst was so much fun, and i'm glad you enjoyed it. thank you for the ask, hope all is well <3

☽ ༚  ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰  ༵ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ 

— comfort's embrace

onceler x reader

the day had been a rollercoaster of emotions for you, wrestling with your insecurities and feeling weighed down by self-doubt. you sought solace in the comforting presence of onceler.

cuddled up on the couch together, his arm wrapped protectively around you, you snuggled into his side, finding comfort in his warmth. his fingers gently traced soothing patterns on your back, offering a comforting touch.

"i can tell something's been bothering you," he said gently, concern evident in his voice. "you know you can always talk to me about anything, right?"

you forced a smile, looking away. "oh, it's nothing, really. just some silly thoughts i've been having. nothing worth bothering you about."

onceler's grip tightened, pulling you a little closer. "hey now, don't downplay your feelings. i care about you, and your happiness is important to me. you don't have to face it alone."

a moment of silence passed, and the weight of your insecurities began to press harder. you sighed, finally giving in to the truth. "okay, maybe... maybe i've been struggling with my self-image a bit lately. i can't help but compare myself to others and feel like i fall short."

onceler's eyes softened, and he reached out to gently tilt your chin, guiding your gaze to meet his. "i get it. i get how tough that can be," he said, his voice filled with empathy. "and you're not alone in feeling that way. sometimes, i've got my own little battles with stuff like that."

you looked at him, surprise evident in your eyes. "you?"

a wistful smile crossed his lips. "growing up, my mom had a way of making me question myself. she'd tell me all the stuff i liked doing wasn't manly, and that my dreams are stupid."

you listened intently, feeling a sense of understanding wash over you. "that must have been really difficult."

onceler nodded, his gaze distant. "it was. but, i still love my mom. she might not always understand me or support everything i do, but she's still my mom, and i know she wants what's best for me in her own way." (yeah right)

his voice filled with empathy. "but let me tell you something: you're so incredibly special to me, just as you are."

you looked at him, a mix of vulnerability and hope in your eyes. "but what if I'm not enough? what if there's someone better out there?"

onceler shook his head, a determined look in his eyes. "no, don't say that. you're more than enough. you bring so much joy, warmth, and love into my life. there's no one else i would rather be with than you."

a tear welled up in your eye, and he gently wiped it away with his thumb. "i know it's hard to believe in yourself sometimes, but promise me that you'll try to see your worth and beauty. because i believe in you, and i'll always be here to remind you of how incredible you are."

you took a deep breath, allowing his words to sink in. "okay, i'll try," you whispered, feeling a glimmer of hope flicker within.

onceler leaned in, pressing a soft kiss against your forehead. "that's all i ask. and remember, i'm here to support you every step of the way. we'll work through these insecurities together."

and you rested against him, surrounded by his love and understanding.

[servicepen]

Krang one x Reader headcanons

I only ever found one krang x reader in my lifetime, which is honestly kinda disappointing. If no one else is gonna write some krang x reader, I guess I’ll have to do it myself. So here are my headcanons for this alien warlord.

-affection is kind of foreign to krang one since Krangs are a tough and violent species, so he’s not used to physical contact that doesn’t involve violence or pain. So when he experiences touch that is soft and caring it causes him to become flustered. At first he doesn’t know how to feel about it but over time he grew to like and crave being given affection. Congratulations, you caused an alien warlord to become touch starved and he hates it :D -the place on his side where his frills are located are sensitive, so he doesn’t really like being touched there, but he does allow you to since he trusts you. If you scratch/pet that spot gently he will melt and become a purring mess. He will only let you do this in private. -When he learns more about affection he will start showing you affection, such as compliments, hugging, nuzzling and sometimes even kissing(though he’s a bit awkward with it but he’s trying.) -he loves being praised and complimented, especially when it’s from you, it boosts his ego and he will even show off his skills just to impress you. -he is not very good at comforting but that doesn’t mean he won’t try. He doesn’t like you being hurt or upset. He will talk to you and listen to why you’re upset. If it was a person that made you like this, he’ll offer to kill them for you, which you tell him not to. Other than that, He will probably hug and hold you close to comfort you. -He won’t admit it but he likes cuddling with you. He likes holding you close to him in a way that’s almost possessive. Sometimes he doesn’t realize how tight he’s holding you until you tell him -He finds horror movies entertaining and likes watching them with you. He doesn’t get scared watching them and often likes to criticize and makes fun of them. I can see him liking movies like ‘Alien’ and ‘alien vs predator’. He will find it amusing if you get scared watching them and will tease you about it, though he secretly loves it when you cling to him while watching them. -you cannot tell me that krang one doesn’t have some trauma from his time in the prison dimension. The prison dimension messed him up more than he would like to admit. He has night terrors/nightmares once in awhile about the prison dimension. You’ve woken up to him shouting awake, tears brimming in his eyes, talking in his sleep and sometimes accidentally hurt you out of reflexes. When he comes to his senses and realizes that he hurt you he’ll apologize and help heal you. -He probably won’t talk about his nightmares/night terrors no matter how close you are to him. You seeing him in a vulnerable state was embarrassing enough but actually talking about it? It just felt… humiliating. He feels that his fears are stupid and embarrassing and that talking about it would be humiliating. He doesn’t want to be pitied, especially by you, it felt wrong to him. The best thing you can do to comfort him is to stay with him for the night, your presence is comforting to him. -Being in the prison dimension also made him experience how horrifying being truly alone is. He’s afraid of being truly alone and losing the ones he loves and cares about, which causes him to be protective and kinda possessive of you. You’re probably going to have to reassure him and probably talk to him about boundaries.

-he won’t hesitate to fight and/or kill to protect you. You are one of the few loved ones he has left in his life and mean more to him than anything else in this world, and if that means having to sacrifice himself or even wiping out an entire planet to keep you safe, then so be it.

These are all my headcanons for now. I’ll probably do more and even write some oneshots.

[nj-6-girl]

After the announcement of the big evaluation next month, which coincided with Micha’s sixth month as a trainee, it was as if a switch had been flipped inside her. There was a visible shift in her demeanor, and it didn’t take long for everyone around her to notice.

Gone were the days where Micha hesitated, where she second-guessed her every move. Now, she was laser-focused, determined to prove herself worthy of the opportunity she had been given. Her days became a blur of studying, training, and perfecting her craft. The rigorous schedule was punishing, but she embraced it with a newfound intensity.

Her mornings started early, often before the sun had even risen. Micha would sneak out of the dorms quietly, careful not to wake her sleeping friends. She’d head straight to the practice room, where she’d start with basic stretches before diving into more advanced choreography. Sometimes, Minji or Hanni would join her, and they’d push each other to be better, each correction taken to heart and each success celebrated with a shared smile.

Her mind was like a sponge absorbing all the informations that she can get either from her teachers at school or from her coaches and fellow trainees at the company. That leaves her having a headache by the end of the day but she keeps telling herself that all of this would be worth it at the end. Part of herself believes that keeping telling herself this is the only way of her still going.

Her nights were spent on the phone with her family. Those moments were the only times she allowed herself to be vulnerable, to relax even a little. Her parents could tell she was exhausted, but they also knew how much this meant to her. Her father’s voice would often carry a note of worry, urging her not to overdo it, but Micha would reassure him that she was fine. Her mother, while more stern, offered words of encouragement, reminding Micha of how far she had come and how much further she could go.

It's not like she didn't miss her family, she in fact do miss them terribly, she doesn't remember exactly the numbers of nights where she fell asleep on her bed crying silently to not wake up hyein after she hang up from a call with her parents. Missed birthdays, holidays and family gatherings that she couldn't attend. She knew that there are family relatives who painted her as the spoiled princess who doesn't want to be with them because of her stupid idol training thingy, but she had to do what she got to do.

And then there was the matter of Mina. The rift between them still hurt, a dull ache in her chest that she tried to ignore. She missed her friend terribly, the easy conversations, the shared jokes, the comfort of having someone who knew her so well. But there was no time to dwell on it. Micha knew that she couldn’t afford to be distracted, not when the stakes were this high. So, she pushed the thoughts of Mina to the back of her mind, telling herself that she’d deal with it later, once the evaluation was over.

But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. It was like a wound that hadn’t quite healed, but one she refused to let bleed. Every so often, the memory of Mina’s distant behavior would creep in, but Micha would push it back down, refusing to let it take hold. There was a time and a place for everything, and now wasn’t the time to get lost in her feelings.

She forgets how many times she felt thankful for the girls, Micha felt that even if she thanked them a thousand time it wouldn't be enough. She honestly doesn't know what she will do without them.

Each time minji saw her push herself really hard in the practice room that became like a second home to her.

She will nod, understanding but still concerned. "Just don’t forget to take care of yourself, too. We’re all here to help you. You don’t have to do this alone."

Micha offered a small, tired smile. "I know, but I need to prove to myself that I can do it. I don’t want to be the weak link."

Minji sighed, reaching out to ruffle Micha’s hair affectionately. "You’re not a weak link, Micha. You’re one of the strongest people I know. Just remember, strength isn’t just about how hard you push yourself. It’s also about knowing when to ask for help."

Micha didn’t care about the whispers or the side glances anymore. For the first time since she walked into the company, she finally felt like she belonged. The six months of grueling work, self-doubt, and countless hours in the practice room had solidified something inside her. She knew now, without a doubt, that becoming an idol wasn’t just a dream; it was her destiny.

As the evaluation loomed closer, the tension in the company was palpable. The coaches had made it clear: this evaluation would be different. Each trainee would be placed into a group of three, chosen by the coaches themselves. The groups would be assigned a song from an earlier generation of idols, and it would be up to the girls to divide the parts, create choreography, choose their own outfits that match with the vibe of the chosen song and with the rest of the members, and to do their own makeup.

They didn't hide that after this evaluation a lot of trainees from both genders will drop out. Some think that it has to do with budget and the financial situation of the company that's why they only want to leave the best of the best. So doing the slightest mistakes can be the endgame for each and every trainee.

Micha’s heart pounded when the song was revealed—"View" by SHINee, It was a beloved song, but one that demanded both vocal and dance prowess. She glanced at the girls who had been placed in her group, trying to gauge their reactions. Sadly, none of her close friends were with her. Instead, she was paired with two other trainees, both of whom had reputations for being fierce competitors.

The old Micha might have felt intimidated, maybe even discouraged, but this time, she was ready to fight. When it came time to divide the parts, there was no hesitation. Micha knew she wanted the main vocalist role, and she wasn’t about to back down. It was a position she had earned through months of hard work, and she wasn’t going to let anyone take it from her without a fight.

Hyein told me to not back down without a fight, not exactly a fight per day. But you know what I mean I had to clutch that part with both feet and hands if it is necessary. And a main vocalist has the most part and she will do as she was taught, which mean I had to grab that role and clench to it with my life like I was taught, after all I was always praised to be a good student. But now one told me it would be this tense I think hyein knowing me choose to left it unsaid.

Micha’s group was seated in a small practice room, the tension thick in the air as they prepared to discuss their parts for the upcoming evaluation. The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of a distant air conditioner, as the three trainees—Micha, chaeryeong, and Nari—sat in a circle, their expressions serious. They all knew what was at stake, and none of them were willing to back down without a fight.

Chaeryeong, was the first to break the silence. “Alright, let’s just get this out of the way. We need to decide on the parts. I think it’s clear that I should take the main vocal.”

Micha’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she kept her expression neutral. She knew this was coming. Chaeryeong had a reputation for being assertive, and she wasn’t one to give up easily. “Why do you think that?” Micha asked, her tone calm but firm.

The said girl looked at her like it was obvious. “I’ve been the main vocalist in almost every evaluation. My range is stronger, and I can hit those high notes perfectly.”

Of course, she would think that, after all she is considered to be one of top vocalist in the company I won't deny that. That's why I was readying myself when I heard her name being called in the same group as me.

Nari, the quieter of the three but known for her incredible harmonies, nodded slightly. “That’s true, chaeryeong. You do have the range, but it’s not just about hitting notes. I think your vocal tone and singing style doesn't suite the song.”

Micha took a breath, feeling the weight of the moment. This was her chance to prove herself, to show that she wasn’t just another trainee but someone who could stand out, who could lead. She knows being younger than them can make them uncertain to believe her world but she should try.“I agree with Nari unnie,” she said, her voice steady. “This song is about more than just vocal range. I think we should be aware also if the vocal tone fits or not and with all respect I don't think your voice fits with the parts of the main vocalist.I’ve been working on my vocal expression, and I think I can bring something unique to the main vocal part.”

Chaeryeong looked at Micha, surprised by what Micha just said and if you looked closely you can see how offended she is by what she heard. “Are you saying you think you can do it better than me?”

Micha didn’t waver. “I’m saying I’m ready to take on that responsibility. I know how important this evaluation is, and I’m confident I can handle it. I’ve been practicing nonstop, and I’ve worked on every aspect of my performance. I want the main vocal part.”

Nari, sensing the rising tension, tried to mediate. “We all want what’s best for the group. Maybe we should consider how our voices blend together and what will make the strongest impact.”

Micha nodded. “Exactly. I think my voice can bring out the liveliness and freshness of the song, while chaeryeong's can shine in the powerful moments. We should focus on complementing each other, not just on who gets the main part.”

Chaeryeong bit her lip, clearly weighing her options. She wasn’t used to being challenged, especially not by someone who had been more reserved in the past. But there was something different about Micha now—a determination that hadn’t been there before. “You’re really serious about this, huh?” she finally said, a hint of respect in her tone.

Micha met her gaze. “Yes, I am. This is our chance to show the coaches what we’re capable of, and I’m not going to hold back.”

There was a long pause as chaeryeong considered Micha’s words. Finally, she let out a sigh, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. “Fine. We’ll give it a shot. But if you mess up, I’m taking over.”

Micha nodded, her heart pounding with a mix of relief and anticipation. “Deal. Let’s do this together and make it the best performance we can.”

Nari smiled, feeling the tension ease slightly. “We’ll make it work. We just need to practice until it’s perfect.”

Micha just nodded, her mind already on the performance ahead. The practices began immediately, and they were intense. Micha threw herself into the rehearsals, pushing herself to the limit. The choreography was intricate, with sharp turns and smooth transitions, and it required the kind of synchronization that only came with hours of practice. Micha found herself more at ease with her body every passing second.

I think practicing with haerin and hanni really payed well. If I did these sort of movements in the past I think I wouldn't past a second and fall on my face immediately.

There were moments of frustration, especially when it came to blending their voices seamlessly. Micha would stay late into the night, repeating the same lines over and over until they sounded perfect. It was exhausting, but it was also exhilarating in a way she couldn't explain it.

The night before the evaluation, the nerves finally started to creep in. Micha had done everything she could to prepare, but the weight of what was at stake pressed heavily on her. She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind racing with thoughts of the performance, the other trainees, and what the coaches might say. Sleep seemed impossible.

After tossing and turning for what felt like hours, Micha reached for her phone and scrolled through her contacts until she found the one name that always brought her comfort: Kang. Her cousin had always been her rock, the one person who understood her better than anyone else. Without thinking twice, she pressed the call button.

She silently prayed for him to pick up after all he was in a whole different country studying in university.

The phone rang a few times before Kang picked up, his voice warm and familiar. “Micha? What’s up? It’s late.”

Micha let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. She started talking softly afraid she would wake Hyein up with her voice. “I just… needed to hear your voice.”

Kang’s tone softened immediately. “Are you okay?”

“I’m nervous,” Micha admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “The evaluation is tomorrow, and it’s so important. I’ve worked so hard, but I’m scared it won’t be enough.”

Kang was silent for a moment, letting her words sink in. When he spoke, his voice was gentle but firm. “Micha, you’ve always been the hardest worker I know. You’ve put your heart and soul into this. You belong there, and you know it. You’re not the same girl who walked into that company six months ago. You’ve grown so much.”

“But what if I fail?” Micha’s voice cracked slightly, betraying the fear she had been holding back.

“You won’t,” Kang said confidently. “And even if something goes wrong, it’s not the end. You’ve got so much talent, so much drive. Nothing can stop you, Micha. Not now, not ever.”

Micha felt tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Thank you, Kang. I needed to hear that.”

“Anytime,” Kang replied. “Now, get some rest, okay? You’re going to crush it tomorrow. I know you will.”

Micha nodded, even though he couldn’t see her. “I will. Thanks, oppa. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Micha. Remember, you’ve got this.”

After hanging up, Micha felt a little more at ease. She closed her eyes, focusing on Kang’s words, letting them drown out the doubts that had been swirling in her mind. She had worked too hard to let fear hold her back now. Tomorrow, she would give it everything she had, and she would do it with the confidence that she belonged here, that she was meant to be an idol.

With that thought in mind, Micha finally drifted off to sleep.

The morning of the evaluation was nothing short of chaotic. The normally tidy dorm was a whirlwind of clothes, makeup, and hair tools strewn everywhere. Every surface was covered with something—skirts, tops, shoes, eyeshadow palettes, hair straighteners—each girl was frantically preparing for what could be the most important day of their trainee lives.

Micha stood in front of the mirror, carefully applying her makeup with an intense focus that had become second nature. She was wearing an inspired outfit of kei in one of "view" stage performance Her hands shook slightly as she added the final touches, but she quickly steadied herself, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves.

Across the room, Danielle was having a meltdown of her own. “This bow just won’t stay!” she groaned, struggling to secure a large, glittery bow in her curly hair. The bow was a statement piece that Danielle insisted on wearing for her girls generation "I got a boy" performance, but it seemed determined to fight her every step of the way.

I'm seriously jealous I want to perform I got a boy too... Life really is unfair.

Haerin, ever the calm and collected one, was helping Danielle. “Hold still,” she murmured, gently adjusting the bow and using extra bobby pins to secure it. She murmured, gently adjusting the bow and using extra bobby pins to secure it. “There. That should hold it.”

“Thanks, Haerin,” Danielle sighed in relief, glancing at her reflection in the mirror. The bow finally stayed put, nestled perfectly in her voluminous curls. “I owe you one.”

“Just make sure it doesn’t fall off in the middle of the performance,” Haerin teased lightly, before returning to her own preparations.

Despite the frantic energy in the room, Micha couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy as she watched Danielle and Haerin. They were in the same group for the evaluation, which meant they’d get to rely on each other for support. Micha and the other girls, on the other hand, had been placed with two other trainees they barely knew. It wasn’t that she disliked them, but they didn’t share the same bond she had with her closest friends. And knowing that Danielle and Haerin would be able to face this together while she had to go it alone only added to her nerves.

“Don’t worry, Micha,” Haerin said, noticing Micha’s expression. “You’re going to do great.”

Micha forced a smile, appreciating Haerin’s support but still feeling the weight of the day ahead. “Thanks. You too.”

As the girls continued to prepare, Micha found herself focusing on the lyrics of the song her group had been assigned. She muttered the words under her breath, mentally going over the choreography they had created together. But balancing the vocal parts and the dance moves had been a challenge. Still, Micha was determined to give it her all. This was her chance to shine, to show everyone—including herself—that she had what it took to be an idol.

The dorm was buzzing with a mix of excitement and anxiety as the girls finished getting ready. Micha could feel the tension in the air as each one of them tried to mentally prepare for what lay ahead. The knowledge that only the best would move forward hung over them like a cloud, adding to the pressure.

“Okay, girls, it’s time,” Minji announced as she checked the clock, her voice authoritative yet gentle. She was the oldest, after all, and the others naturally looked to her for guidance.

The girls gathered their things and began to file out of the dorm, each one lost in her thoughts. Micha, clutching her bag tightly, took a deep breath as they made their way down the hallway headed towards the company across the street.

Upon arrival, they were greeted by the familiar faces of the coaches and the ceo who would be evaluating them. The room was large and well-lit, with a stage set up at one end and rows of chairs facing it. The atmosphere was tense, with each trainee knowing that this evaluation could make or break their future in the company.

Micha’s group was scheduled to perform second, so she had a few minutes to gather her thoughts as she watched the first group take the stage. The other trainees were talented, no doubt, but Micha forced herself to focus on her own performance rather than comparing herself to them.

When it was finally their turn, Micha felt her heart race as she walked onto the stage with her group members, chaeryeong and Nari. The lights were blinding, there were cameras everywhere pointed towards them and monitors in front of the trainers the ceo and the stuff, when she asked hanni the purpose of them she replied that they do that to see wether they look good on camera or not.

So, she had forced herself to look past them and focus on the audience—or in this case, the coaches.

The music started, and Micha immediately slipped into performance mode. She hit her marks with precision, her voice strong and clear as she sang the opening lines. She could feel the tension between her and chaeryeong, but it only fueled her determination to stand out. This was her moment, and she wasn’t going to let it slip away.

As they moved into the choreography they had created, Micha felt a surge of confidence. The hours of practice, the late nights, the sacrifices—it all led to this. She poured everything she had into the performance, making sure each move was sharp, each note was on point.

When the song ended, there was a brief moment of silence before the coaches began their critique. Micha held her breath, her heart pounding in her chest as she waited for their feedback. She knew they were tough, and she braced herself for whatever they had to say.

“Good job, girls,” the vocal coach started, her tone neutral. “Micha, you surprised me today. Your vocals were strong, and you handled the main part well.”

Micha let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, a small smile tugging at her lips. It wasn’t an overwhelming praise, but it was a step in the right direction.

“However,” the dance coach chimed in, “I think there’s still room for improvement in your dance execution. Don't get it wrong you did good today but I know you can do great ”

Finally, the CEO’s gaze shifted to Micha’s group. Micha held her breath, trying to maintain her composure as the CEO spoke to chaeryeong and Nari first, pointing out their strengths and areas for improvement. Micha’s name hadn’t been mentioned yet, and the longer the CEO remained silent, the more anxious Micha became.

“And now, Micha,” the CEO finally said, her voice cutting through the silence like a knife. Micha’s stomach twisted into knots. What did I do wrong? she thought, her mind racing. Did I miss a step? Did I mess up the vocals? I did everything right… didn’t I?

The CEO sooyeon paused for a moment, her eyes locked on Micha, who stood rigid, her heart hammering in her chest. Just as Micha’s thoughts spiraled into doubt, the CEO continued, “Today, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you.”

Micha’s eyes widened in surprise. Of all the things she had expected, this wasn’t it. The CEO’s words hung in the air, and Micha felt a surge of emotions—relief, disbelief, and a glimmer of pride. But she didn’t let herself relax just yet; she knew better than to assume it was all praise.

“Even when it wasn’t your part,” the CEO continued, “I found myself looking at you. You have something that people in, an undeniable presence. That’s what I was looking for in you that I know you has but didn't allow to let it out, but today you finally did it.”

Micha’s heart swelled at the unexpected compliment, but she remained composed, nodding in acknowledgment. It was a validation she hadn’t realized she needed until this moment. But she also knew that the CEO wasn’t finished.

“However,” the CEO said, her tone shifting slightly, “ like the dance teacher told you your dance still needs improvement. You’re on the right track.”

feedback to heart. She had heard this before, but this time it felt different. The praise from the CEO gave her a boost of confidence, but it also came with the realization that she couldn’t afford to be complacent. There was still work to be done, and she was more determined than ever to prove herself.

“Today,” the CEO continued, “you were among the best. Keep this up, and you’ll go far. Don’t lose that fire.”

Micha’s breath hitched slightly at the words. She had been so focused on doing well that she hadn’t allowed herself to think about being one of the best. It was a goal she had always aspired to but never quite believed she could reach it.

As Micha sat down, the reality of what had just happened began to sink in. She had been singled out in a positive way, something she hadn’t expected at all. The CEO’s words echoed in her mind, and for the first time, Micha felt like she was truly on the right path. The whispers from the other trainees, the doubts she had battled, all seemed to fade into the background.

She glanced over at her friends, who were giving her encouraging smiles. Danielle gave her a thumbs-up, and minji mouthed, “Well done.” Micha smiled back, her heart full.

But she knew this wasn’t the end—it was just the beginning. The CEO’s words had lit a fire in her, one that she intended to keep burning. There was still a lot of work ahead, but now, more than ever, Micha felt ready to face it.

Just as she began to feel the weight of the CEO’s praise settle in, her eyes caught a glimpse of someone standing behind the CEO. It was Saebi, who was smiling warmly at her, her eyes filled with a pride that Micha hadn’t seen before. The silent acknowledgment from Saebi added another layer of meaning to the moment. Micha knew that Saebi had always believed in her, but seeing that smile now, she realized how far she had come.

As the CEO continued her final remarks, she mentioned that the evaluation results would be announced at the end of the week, and those who would be dropping out would be informed then. The tension in the room thickened once more. Micha could feel the collective anxiety of the trainees around her, each one wondering if they would make the cut.

With those final words, the CEO left the practice room, her presence leaving a lingering pressure in the air. The trainees were left to their own thoughts, the reality of the situation sinking in. Micha, however, felt a strange sense of calm wash over her. For the first time, she didn’t feel overwhelmed by the pressure. Instead, she felt focused, determined, and ready for whatever came next.

[anonymous-starling]

I don’t even know what’s real anymore, I don’t want to fight forever

TW!!

I’ve got no memories. No proof. Nothing outside of me and my system who doesn’t talk me and my screwed up body. This is the only evidence, and this evidence has been tainted.

Sometimes I’m really afraid that I was just born messed up and twisted… in preschool, when I was 4, I specifically remember just wanting to fawn and submit to people. Other children. In games. But it was deeper than that to me. I would’ve been willing to let people drag my limp body and do whatever the heck they wanted to it. What kind of 4 year old is like that? Willing to be abused and treated like an object?

And still today.. Gosh I hate talking about this, because who would believe me? Ever since my chronic pain down there (pain that feels like a ghost is molesting me 24/7 and I spend my whole life in bed now screaming from every tiny little trigger) began to increase so did this.. other thing. This gut feeling. This silent understanding without even having to address it… this “understanding” (with nothing to back it up) that somebody, a long time ago, intentionally created my pain through a very specific and methodical pattern of grooming and molest, and made it so that my tiny little body would result in needing him to SA me to relieve the pain. Like some twisted reverse psychology thing but it’s physical. And he made it so that something would trigger the pain to turn on, and the only way for it to be turned off is for me to allow him to SA me again. Note: I have NO memory of anything like this every happening. My childhood is a blended blur. I have had the most stupid vivid nightmares of it, and even some of our persecutors reenact it in them.. and in every nightmare, the perpetrator— whoever it is— follows that same specific method to create this mind-control/programmed-like response. It’s horrific.

In these nightmares, all he has to do now is say a word or a phrase or wave his hand a certain way and bam. I dissociate. Or bam. I’m uncontrollably needing him. Or bam. I collapse— still conscious but unable to move or see or hear clearly. And the things he does in these dreams to first create the pain… to make me need him. To activate it so that it’ll go off someday and make me need to go back to him so he can relieve it. ITS STUPID AND HORRIBLE AND RIDICULOUS AND I HATE MYSELF.

And something in me swears that’s what my pain is today— it’s been eating my life away since it started. I had to leave school, dance, I can’t work, I can’t even hang out with my family anymore, I stay in bed screaming at the top of my lungs. And I have to physically FIGHT myself not to put myself in vulnerable positions where I could potentially be abducted and trafficked, cause it’s like my body knows that’s where I’m supposed to be. I’m supposed to be there. And until I give in, the pain will only worsen. It feels like withdraw. It feels like this mysterious person in this event I have no memory of created this addiction in my tiny little body that needs the abuse, and without it, I got through permanent withdraw, and I need the SA to happen again to survive.

but it’s not real.

I hate it and I hate myself and I have no memory of the SA or anything so I don’t know if anything ever happened at all— what if I was just born totally f‘ed up???? I can’t do this anymore— I’ve been fighting against this pain for years and it’s getting worse, and it won’t stop till I give in and submit to it.

I feel like a machine that was programmed to return to a s*xually abusive situation or system against my will, but because I’m programmed to do it, I do it willingly, and if I fight against it, I malfunction completely and it’ll be the end of me- I have to give in. I feel like a moth that can’t help but fly into fire because it’s like it’s brain is being mind-controlled by the fire and even if it doesn’t want to burn, it will, because it can’t control it. She’s unwillingly willingly going in.

I’m a stupid DOG with a shock collar fastened around its neck, and someone out there is zapping it, saying come home, but I can’t give in. UGH I HAVE TO.

I can’t fight forever. I’m scared. What if I was just born messed up? WHat if the SA isn’t real and no one did this to me??? Any time I try to accept that or someone suggests that, I get so dizzy physically ill— I overheat and shake and almost vomit.

Im sorry. I’m sorry for all of this.

and this man… there’s a man who I don’t even have the memory of the times he came to stay with me and my father. He’s surely innocent. He’s no one. Yet I feel this overwhelming horrible force that needs me to message him. I haven’t had any interaction with him in over ten years. We were maybe 6. I have to physically fight myself from contacting him.. just to say hi.. I need to do it. I can’t fight it anymore. I’m gonna do it. What’s the harm? He’s absolutely innocent. Otherwise there’s be signs. I convinced myself of all of this. I’m not a survivor.

[sc0tters]

New Year Memories ☆ Teammates in Action

summary: after a disappointing performance in the final group game, Gabe checks up on Jamie

authors note: this was a blurb because someone asked for some cute gabe and jamie content but then this got to over 1k and that aint a blurb no more.

Jamie had been hit in their final group stage game. It was sore as she was pushed against the board at full speed and after the refs swore there was nothing the other player could do as they were already at full speed by the time Jamie was close to the board making it virtually impossible to slow down.

It frustrated her how the coaches agreed it was best to have her sit for the rest of the game as it seemed that she was being targeted by the other team more than her teammates. Thankfully for her she didn’t have any injuries and was going to be ready for the QF game. But still that didn’t make her feel any better about what had happened.

Nobody was surprised when she got back to the hotel and just straight to her room. It was a normal thing to do when she wasn’t happy with her performance as she would shut everyone out. But this time Gabe wasn’t having it “I’ll be back.” He announced as he made his way over to the elevator “you want us to be here with an ice pack for when she kicks your ass out?” Jamie never listened to anyone when she got in this mood so all of the guys from BC knew to leave her alone.

Gabe flipped the boys off as he pressed the number for the floor the team was on. He practically sped to her and he couldn’t help but laugh as he could hear the soft sounds of the Lion King playing “J!” Gabe knocked on her door as he was itching to see her.

There was silence for a few moments until the door opened “if you’re here to yell at me you can fuck off.” Jamie warned as she opened the door letting him see her “wanted to check on you.” He shook his head as he made his way into her room “you know I know you’re lying.” Gabe mumbled grabbing her hands so that he could finally force her to look at him.

It took her a moment but she couldn’t help it as she sniffled “why was I punished for them being rough?” Jamie sniffled as the guys usually handled themselves really well when they got hit “coaches just care about you.” Gabe had to admit that he was also struggling to keep his cool as Jamie went down every few minutes as the hits only got harder “I handle it myself!” At this point tears were rolling down her cheeks as she felt like an idiot for caring.

Gabe didn’t know what made him do it but he wrapped his arms around her not giving her a second more to think as he hugged her. Jamie at first frozen because she hadn’t been like this before with Gabe like ever. But as his hand rubbed her back she did loosen her poster as she grew more comfortable with him “you shouldn’t have to handle it alone.” Now as she grew calmer Gabe knew he could talk to her.

Jamie looked up at him as she smiled “this is stupid.” She admitted as she shook her head “no it wasn’t.” He sat on her bed as he motioned her to join him “what can I do for you?” Gabe didn’t know if it was the fact that he knew Gavin wasn’t with her or what but he was glad that he was the one with her.

The girl chewed at the inside of her cheek “want to finish the movie with me?” Gabe was quiet as he smiled not being used to seeing her in a vulnerable state like this “just figured it could be nice to have some company.” Jamie rambled as her cheeks turned red making him laugh “c’mere.” Gabe shifted up her bed making her follow his lead.

Gabe patted his chest as he allowed her to lay there as her laptop sat on his lower torso “didn’t know you could be nice Perreault.” Jamie teased as she rested her head on his chest making him scoff.

He poked her rib cage making Jamie squeal as she squirmed against him “shush the movie is on.” His words made her laugh as she nodded going quiet as she listened to him.

Hours had passed and Gabe didn’t realise that he had fallen asleep when it was dark outside. His phone vibrated against his pocket making him groan. It was Lillian’s contact that illuminated his screen “where is my best friend?” Lillian was unimpressed as Jamie hadn’t responded to any of her texts “Cutter said you were with her so don’t try to lie to me.” She warned not giving Gabe the chance to lie.

It made him soft laugh as he saw Jamie nuzzle her head against his chest “she is just sleeping.” Gabe explained as he looked down to where Jamie was “well wake her up!” Ava was heard from behind her as the new year was minutes away and the girls were downstairs with their boyfriends ready for the fireworks show.

Gabe nodded as he sighed “I’ll bring her down in a second.” He nodded trying to slide out of her grip as he hung up “J?” His voice was soft as he brushed her hair out of her face “no.” Jamie complained as she was fast asleep and was comfortable against him “the girls want you downstairs for the fireworks.” Gabe forgot how much Jamie truly hated being woken up, which was why it was his favourite thing to do when she was sleeping on the bus.

Gabe groaned as he couldn’t stop “please?” He continued hitting her shoulder until she finally woke up “what?” Jamie pouted as she sent him a glare still not impressed “the girls want to celebrate the new year with you.” Gabe explained as he watched her yawn “wait I’ve got to get ready for it.” Jamie grumbled as she got up.

He knew he was in a losing battle when she ran into the bathroom trying to fix her hair. Out of the five minutes that she had available to her, Jamie used four of them “hurry up J!” Gabe complained as he opened the door to her balcony realising that the countdown had begun “I’m here.” Jamie’s eyes lit up as she saw the lights below them as she smiled seeing the group “we won’t make it down there in time.” The boy pointed out as he was planning on just watching the countdown but as they got to “one.” Jamie tilted his head towards her as she smiled “Happy New Year Gabe.” Her voice was soft as she kissed him.

For the first time in their lives that kiss was soft and delicate as though they were struggling to not get enough of each other "Happy New Year to you too Jaime." Gabe dragged his thumb over her chin as he smiled pecking her lips once more as neither one of them realised just how much time had gone by "you better not have killed her Gabe I want my friend back!" Ava's groan came from the door making the duo pull away.

Gabe frowned as he looked at Jamie "back to hating me?" He asked as they had the agreement that none of their friends were allowed to learn about this "maybe I'll be nice this year and go easy on ya."