#people asked about the exes so here they are

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Doing Time 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, threats, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you try to keep your brother safe in jail but put yourself in danger along the way.

Characters: con/ex-con!Steve Rogers

Note: I need the weekend to come so I can cum

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

"Things aren't too bad. Not since I got my ass kicked," Vaughn chortles. "Mighta knocked some sense into this thick skull at last."

"Hopefully," you agree. "Mom said--"

"I tried calling. She didn't pick up."

"Oh..."

"Why-- Why should I even bother?" His humour fades to hostility, "and why are you acting like you're my mother? When she does answer, she just calls me a fuck up. Like I don't fucking know."

"Vaughn," you hum, "please, I'm not trying to piss you off."

"But you are," he snarls. "Always gotta ruin a good time, don't ya?"

You frown. This is the Vaughn you don't know. The one with the anger like a grenade pin. One tug and it's over. You sit back and wait. Arguing only fuels the flames.

"You're the one person who's s'posed to believe in me and you're nagging me about mom," he snarls.

You look away guiltily. You wonder how he'd react if you told him about Steve. If you mentioned that the reason things 'aren't too bad' is because you did something just as stupid as him. Somehow, you don't think that him knowing you do dumb stuff too will help.

He tugs at his cuffs. The guards come forward. You say his name again.

"Vaughn, please--"

"Piss off! Yeah, you meat head, get me outta here," he turns his wrath on the guard. "Waste of my time."

"Please, I didn't-- I just--"

"I told you not to talk about it no more," he barks. He did. You didn't listen.

Your eyes well. You don't know what happened to him. Where did all this anger come from? As you watch the guards unhook him and he stomps away, you can only think you may have made a good decision talking to Steve. At least there's someone in there who can help. Or try to.

You wiggle your nose and dab your eyes with your knuckle. That was embarrassing as much as it was scary. The guard on the other side returns.

"We'll bring the next early, miss."

"Thanks," you nod. You recognise him. You realise most of the guards must know your face too. It's so strange to think this is a normal part of your life now. That this has become your social life as late.

It isn't long before Steve appears. He sits calmly lets himself be leashed. He leans forward and takes the receiver. You still have yours in hand but it's against the table. You lift it.

"Couldn't wait to see me, huh?" He purrs.

Your cheeks draw tight, "how are you?"

"Mm," he narrows his eyes as he looks you over. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing, Steve," you swallow the dregs of your tears. "Really. It was an early morning."

He stares a little longer, the lines deepening in his forehead. His eyes meet yours. His aquamarine irises are speckled with gold and silver. He takes a breath and tuts.

"You were crying."

"No, Steve, it's nothing."

"That brat brother of yours," he nods as his expression turns dangerous.

"Please, Steve, not you too. Okay? It's... a sibling spat. That's all," you assure him. You wish you were as transparent as the window between you.

"I don't like that. I had family coming to see me, I'd be nice," he snarls.

"It's not your problem."

"That's where you're wrong, sweetheart. You made it my problem when you started coming around." He insists.

You chew your lip, "I know..."

"I'm not complaining, so you know," he leans back. "Kinda used to ya now."

"Thanks," you utter grimly and stare at the desk.

"Hey," he says and your eyes flick back up. "I didn't drag myself out here to see you mope."

You swallow and push away the rest of your chagrin, "sorry, I... better?"

"How can that face get any better?" He winks. You squirm.

He's been more forward lately. You assure yourself that it's just him playing with you. He's bored and you're the only person he talks to that isn't a guard or an inmate.

"That's... Right. Um, I guess it was dumb to ask how it's going," you scoff at yourself.

"It's going good, now I'm here," he runs his hand over his mouth, feeling his cheeks, "fresh shave this morning. Looking good, huh?"

You let your eyes focus. You can tell. His chiseled jaw is bare, not one speck of stubble. And his blond hair is parted and combed back. It's getting a bit long.

"You look refreshed."

"Well, I got something coming up later today."

"Another visitor?" You wonder.

"Lawyer," he shrugs. "No big thing. I got business on the outside still. Power of attorney or whatever."

"Mm," you hum.

"Boring stuff. What about you? Besides that idiot you call a brother, how's life?"

"It's life," you say. "Go to work, come home, sleep, it's all the same."

"Huh, sounds like being in here," he snorts. "Lonely?"

You don't realise at first, he's asking.

"I guess. Thought about getting a cat."

"Ah, you're young. Probably wait a few years before that," he chirps.

You tilt your head wryly, "no harm starting early."

"You're funny, sweetheart."

"Am I?" You wonder dryly.

"Well, the things they think are funny in here..." he makes a face. "You know, I wouldn't tell a lady all that, but it's low brow."

"Right."

"I'm still trying to figure you out, you know? Your brother, well, not to pile on top but he's not exactly a model citizen, but you, you're practical, considerate, you make stuffed chicken and pesto. I can't help but wonder how you're not adopted," he snickers.

"Life is strange."

"Isn't it? Never saw some girl knocking on my cell door but here we are," he drawls.

"Here we are," you agree. He smiles and bites his thumb. You shift as his eyes sparkle.

"I might never get outta of this place, but at least I can see a pretty face now and again," he growls.

Yep, at least he'll never get out. You just need to hope Vaughn doesn't get any time added and it will all be over soon. 

⛓️‍💥

It's the first night Steve doesn't call. You're a bit disturbed by how it seems to throw the whole evening off. It's not like you're friends. He's an obligation. You should be happy to have one less thing on your plate.

You take a long bath, your phone on the back of the toilet, the ringer set to chirp. But it doesn't. The soak isn't enough to ease your nerves.

If something happened to him, what about Vaughn? It's a selfish worry but you can't help it. How could that even happen? Steve has this invincibility about him. You just can't believe it.

You get out and dry yourself off slowly. You're achy from sitting on your ass all day. Admin work isn't very thrilling. You stretch and rub the cushion of your bottom, the muscles easing beneath the layer of padding. You've always had a bit extra. It never bothered you as much as it bothers men. Your brother used to beat up any guy he heard hurling insults at you.

It's not your biggest care in the world. You tend to eat those away. Your sweet tooth hardly helps.

You put on a night shirt and lay awake for a while. Even when you do sleep, it's not peaceful. You dream of iron bars and blood on the floor. You wake with a thumping in your temples.

You dress for work. Your stretch-waist grey pants and the silk blouse with roses on the collar. You pack your lunch and brew your coffee, honey and a dash of almond milk splashed in. You leave with your bag and thermos.

The traffic around the clinic is always clogged. You get in with two minutes to spare. You sit behind the window and the phone rings as soon as opening hour strikes. You're swept up in the demands of patients and doctors alike. One thing you can't complain for how quickly the days fly.

You eat your lunch in your car. You cherish the moments you're not surrounded by sniffling, coughing, and complaining. You head back in and finish the last half, yawning at the monitor.

It's even busier when you pull out into the street. You let the music flow into your ears and distract you. You tap the pedal as you slog along. Finally, you get to a side street and cut a zig zag across town. You pull up to your building and linger in your car.

You have this eerie feeling. You glance over at the unfamiliar car parked facing the brick. The sleek white muscle car is vintage and polished to a shine. Someone loves that thing.

You get out of your dusty Honda and snatch your bag from the passenger's seat. You tap your fob and enter through the side. You stop before the elevator and turn back. You should at least try to get a few steps in. You take the stairs.

You stare at your pointed flats as you drag your soles over the carpet. You smother a yawn behind your hand. A throat clears. You move over, thinking someone's coming your way. You stir in your bag for your keys. Your name brings your chin up.

You gasp and drop your keys. You teeter as you nearly spin and sprint away. Your bag slips and you barely catch the strap. You gape at Steve as he stands beside your door.

Silence wafts around you with the smell of cooking and laundry. He holds a bouquet of classic red roses. He sports a tailored suit in black that puts his prison uniform to shame. The collar is crisp and the tie perfectly knotted. His jawline is shaved and his hair is styled down to the strand.

"Hey, sweetheart," he greets with a smirk.

You wordlessly bend to pick up your keys then stand and fix your bag on your shoulder. Your eyes glaze in disbelief and horror. A million questions flurry to a storm of terror.

"How..."

"Appeal went through. They turned over my conviction," he struts away from the wall. "These are for you, sweetheart."

You look at the petals then at him as he comes close. Your shoulders sag as you shrink down at the breadth of his shadow. He's even bigger like that. You shudder, the lack of barrier unsettling.

"I got you speechless," he intones and grabs the strap of your bag. "Look like you had a long day, let me take a load off."

He takes your bag then guides your hand to the bouquet. You close your mouth and gulp. He sweeps away your keys and hooks his arm through yours. You let him lead you to the door of your apartment. He swings it open and you flinch.

"Wait, Steve, how did you-- how do you know where I live?" You quaver.

"Told you, I got friends on the outside. You don't think I'd leave you unprotected--"

"Wait, wait," you plead as you face him, untangling your arm from his. "How is this real? How are you here? How- Why-- You don't think--"

"I think I spent months talking to you and you spent the same time coming to me. It's not what I think, it's what I know," he insists. You choke.

If his conviction was flipped, maybe that means he isn't so bad. No, no, you heard of what he did in there. He's dangerous. Whether he did what the court said he didn't or not.

He waves you in, "come on, we can take it slow. We'll talk, like old times."

You shake your head but enter. You see no other choice. You're too stunned to think of any.

He follows and pulls the key free of the door before shutting it. He hangs them on the little hook beside the frame. He faces you as you focus on slipping off your flats. He puts your bag on the top of the small shelf where you store your mitts and whatnot.

He whistles, "you look... good. I mean, I never got the full angle." He steps back and you feel him raking you with his eyes. "Got a nice shape..."

"Steve," you snap and face him. "I... I never..." you pace yourself and take a breath. "The flowers are lovely, thank you. And I appreciate you coming by but I think there's a bit of a miscommunication." You turn and slowly inch away. You spin around as he watches you, his expression betraying nothing. "I only talked to you to keep Vaughn safe."

He sighs and his eyes narrow. His brows tilt slightly and his jaw squares. He nods and smooths the front of his jacket.

"Well, sweetheart, I went and got a new suit for you."

"I'm sorry--"

"No, get this," he strides forward and stops before you. "Whether it was for me, for you, or for that scum you call a brother, it happened and it's not over. You got me? I might be out but I got men inside. Men who are willing to do a lot worse than me," he snarls.

You shudder and he grabs your chin. You whimper. "I wanna be nice to you, sweetheart. That's all I've been dreaming of. I went out, got all dressed up, got you flowers, now you do me a favour, go put a dress on so I can take you out for dinner." He sniffs and squeezes just until your jaw throbs, "see, I'm still doing stuff for you. I'm not asking much except you to come out and look pretty."

He lets go and you stagger back. You sniffle and quickly hide your face. Your voice comes out hoarse, "I'll put these in water first."

Your heart races and you go into the kitchen. You find a vase and focus on filling it. You put the flowers in and toss the paper cone. He looms in the doorway.

"I'll find something to put on, okay?" Your voice cracks.

You cross the kitchen and he stays firmly in your path. He brings his knuckle up under your chin and forces your face up.

"Smile, sweetheart," he growls. "We're together. At last."

[honeyncherry]

we never tell - joe burrow

summary who could blame you? the night before thanksgiving was never meant to be innocent — especially not when the boy you’ve known forever looks at you like he’s already decided to ruin you

content 18+, smut, language, alcohol

prev

The bar is loud. Too loud. Voices crash over each other, music shaking the walls, laughter splintering through the chaos. The air swirls with spilled beer, sweat, and cheap perfume. A cocktail of regret already in the making. It all clings to you, settling within your skin. 

The heat inside is nearly unbearable, a sharp contrast to the biting Ohio cold just beyond the fogged-up windows.

You push through the crowd, brushing past bodies pressed too close together, faces blurring under the neon glow. Familiar ones. Unfamiliar ones. Ones you hoped you’d never see again.

Same bar, same people, same exhausting routine playing out like clockwork.

You don’t usually look forward to this night — this annual reunion of your hometown’s finest washed-up athletes, ex-prom queens, and guys who still bring up their glory days at state championships like they happened yesterday.

But it’s tradition.

And tradition says you show up, smile when people ask about the semester thus far, dodge questions about your major, sip overpriced drinks, and pretend you care about who got engaged or knocked up this year.

This is only your second Blackout Wednesday.

Sophomore year means you’re not a newbie anymore, but you’re not a regular either. You know the drill now. The way the bartenders barely glance at the fake IDs slid across the counter, even though they grew up with half the people using them.

You’ve watched guys you went to elementary school with order rounds of shots like they didn’t once throw up grape juice in the cafeteria. Girls who used to sneer at you in the hallways now drunkenly grabbing your hand in the bathroom, slurring about how much they "missed you soooo much."

It’s all fake. A well-rehearsed play where everyone pretends they aren’t counting down the minutes until they can escape this town again.

Still, you’re here.

Because what else is there to do?

You’re halfway through your first drink when you see Joe.

It shouldn’t be surprising, Thanksgiving means everyone comes home. 

Home from his first year at LSU, taller and broader, shoulders filling out the long-sleeved black shirt stretched over his frame. He looks different, but not in a way that makes you stare, more in a way that makes you double-take.

You remember when he was deciding where to go after graduating OSU. The transfer talk had stretched through the beginnings of the year, the same names cycling through every conversation your brother and his friends had at the house. North Carolina? Nebraska? Alabama?

And then it happened:

Cincinnati.

Your head had perked up. Just slightly. Just enough for you to feel stupid about it later.

It wasn’t like it would’ve meant anything. It wasn’t like you would’ve seen him, not really. The University of Cincinnati was huge and you were wrapping up your freshman year. You weren’t sure why it even mattered. Why, for a brief second, the idea of your worlds overlapping for the first time beyond family ties, felt like something worth entertaining.

But then, suddenly, it wasn’t a thought at all.

Because LSU happened.

And when his family held that small going-away gathering, there was no red and black in sight. No UC decorations, no Bearcat colors bleeding into the napkins or tablecloths. Just purple and gold. Bold, glaring, almost mocking.

You remember standing in front of the dessert table, staring at royal frosting of all things like it had personally insulted you.

Some nights, when the dorm was too quiet and your phone screen was the only light in the room, you’d find yourself typing his name into Google. Just once. Just to check.

Never interest. Never anything more.

That’s what you told yourself, anyway.

It wasn’t hard to keep up. LSU was making noise, and so was he. His name started popping up in articles, on Twitter, tucked into game recaps with words like poised and potential thrown around like confetti. You’d skim them, half-engaged, never needing to look too hard because if you didn’t see his name online, you’d hear it from your mom.

"Robin says Joe’s adjusting well down there…" she’d mention casually, somewhere between asking if you needed more laundry detergent and updating you on which neighbors had finally sold their house.

Sometimes, she’d go on. He really likes Baton Rouge… Jimmy says the coaches are impressed… Robin says they miss having him around.

But sometimes, she wouldn’t.

And when enough time passed without a mention, without hearing his name tucked neatly into conversation like it had always been, you’d find yourself searching again.

Just to know.

And then you’d close the tab, lock your phone, roll over in bed, and never think about it again.

Until now.

Because now, he’s here, standing in the middle of your hometown bar like he isn’t creeping into conversations, like his name isn’t slipping into headlines, like he isn’t the reason some guy at the other end of the counter is repping purple and gold instead of Bengals orange.

He’s different. Or maybe it’s just that, for the first time, you’re seeing him as something other than the annoying older boy who was always there, easy to roll your eyes at and even easier to ignore.

You look away.

It doesn’t matter.

Or at least, it shouldn’t.

But something lingers. The kind of awareness that prickles along your skin, that makes your fingers tense around your drink, that keeps your shoulders squared even as you force yourself to focus on something else.

He’s not looking at you.

Not that you can tell.

But you can feel him.

Somewhere past the crush of people near the bar, past the bodies leaning against sticky tabletops, past the haze of smoke and too-loud music and bad decisions waiting to happen: he’s there.

And maybe it’s just in your head, it could be nothing. Maybe it’s that he’s familiar, but not in the way he used to be.

Because you know the set of his shoulders, the way he pushes his hand through his hair when he’s thinking, the way his jaw tenses when he’s listening but not speaking.

You know him without knowing him.

And yet, the weight of his presence is pressing into you like a hand at the small of your back.

You huff and try to shake it off.

"Bathroom?" one of your friends says beside you, looping her arm through yours before you can respond.

You let her pull you along, weaving through the throng of people, past someone attempting to order another round, past a couple making out against the wall like they’ve forgotten they’re in public.

The bathroom is a war zone, as expected.

Girls pressed together in front of the mirrors, smudging eyeliner with unsteady hands, fixing lipstick that’s already faded from stolen kisses and mixed drinks. Strangers throwing compliments like candy: oh my god, your hair looks amazing and I love your dress, where’d you get it? whispered between girls who wouldn’t acknowledge each other outside of tonight.

You slip into a stall, locking the door, leaning against it for just a second.

The bass vibrates through the walls. The distant hum of voices, the occasional burst of laughter. You inhale deeply, steadying yourself.

It’s fine. 

You’re fine.

And if you say it enough times, maybe you’ll believe it.

By the time you wash your hands and step back into the crowd, your drink is gone, condensation leaving a damp circle on the table where you left it. Your friends have drifted toward the dance floor, the blur of movement and music swallowing them whole.

You decide on another drink, pushing your way toward the bar and waiting your turn only for someone to shove past at the last second, slamming a twenty onto the counter and barking out their order over the noise.

Your eyes narrow. Brandon Wilkes.

Of course it’s him. Always cutting ahead, always acting like he was owed something. You roll your eyes and shoot him a glare, resisting the urge to call him out. Some things never change.

"Didn’t think I’d see you here."

The words slip through the noise — smooth like they belong there.

Your breath catches. A pause, just long enough for recognition to crawl up your spine.

Joe.

Closer than before, the sharp angles of his face softened by dim lighting, his eyes flickering with something unreadable as they settle on yours.

You swallow, tilting your chin slightly. "Didn’t think I’d see you either."

His lips twitch. Not quite a smile, but something close. "Guess we’re all bound to make a few questionable decisions tonight."

You nod, shifting your weight onto your other foot. "Wouldn’t be Blackout Wednesday without a little regret."

Joe huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "Regret, huh?"

"Regret," you confirm.

His eyes flicker down to your empty hand, then back up, considering. "What are you drinking?"

It’s not a question, more like a next move.

You hesitate for a second before giving him the answer.

Before you can even think about ordering yourself, Joe lifts a hand, barely even a motion, and the bartender is there in an instant. Of course.

You bite back a scoff as she leans in, all too eager, but Joe doesn’t so much as glance at her. Just gives your order, smooth and easy, like it was never up for debate.

And just like that, the bartender slides a fresh drink across the counter, and Joe beats you to it, picking it up before you can reach for it.

Your fingers brush when he hands it to you.

And it’s nothing.

But it’s also not.

You take a sip, watching him over the rim of your glass. "Trying to get me drunk, Burrow?"

His smirk deepens. His tongue flicks over his bottom lip, quick, unconscious. He leans in just slightly, just enough to see if you’ll move. "Don’t think you need my help with that."

Your stomach flips and you hate that it does. You hate the way your body reacts before your mind can catch up. The way the bar suddenly feels too warm, the noise fading into something distant, like nothing else matters except the inches of space between you.

It’s reckless. It’s stupid.

It’s inevitable.

One drink turns into two.

Two turn into stolen glances, subtle but unmistakable. A slow, unraveling pull that neither of you acknowledge out loud.

The brush of his arm against yours, the warmth of his skin radiating through the fabric of your sleeves. The way your conversations slip into something easier than they should be, like you’ve done this before, like you’ve always known how to hold a conversation between each other.

And then a touch.

A simple thing, really.

It’s subtle at first, fingers grazing the fabric of your shirt like a passing thought, something fleeting and unintentional. But then he doesn’t move away. Instead, his hand sticks, settling against your waist, his thumb brushing over your side in a way that feels effortless but also like he’s waiting to see if you’ll pull away.

He leans in, voice low, threading through the noise of the bar like it belongs there. His breath is warm against your skin, steady, even, completely at ease. The conversation around you dissolves into background static, something distant and irrelevant, because suddenly, this is the only thing you can focus on. 

Your breath catches, you glance up, and that’s the moment everything shifts.

Because when you meet his gaze, when you catch the flicker of something dark, something hungry in his expression, you know.

And so does he.

All you can hear is the low thud of the bass and the shallow breath you take in when Joe shifts closer, when the heat of him presses into your side. His palm flexes just slightly, enough for you to feel it, enough to make your stomach tighten.

And then he leans in.

Slow. Unhurried. Like he’s savoring the moment before it happens.

His breath is warm against your skin when he speaks, just for you. "You gonna stop me?"

You should.

You know you should.

You should think about what happens after this, about how easy it would be to fall into something that was never meant to be.

But you don’t.

Your body betrays you first, tilting toward him, your fingers brushing his forearm where it rests against the bar. His jaw tenses at the contact, his fingers curling tighter against you, his head tipping down just slightly, just enough for his lips to hover above yours. 

His eyes flicker, searching yours, asking a question without saying a word.

And you answer by not moving away.

It would be so easy.

So easy to close the gap. So easy to give in, to let this spiral into something neither of you can take back.

But then—

A sharp burst of laughter, too close, too jarring, snaps you back into reality. A body stumbles into Joe’s back, jostling both of you just enough to break the moment. The spell fractures, and you blink, breath catching in your throat as the bar crashes back into focus. It’s loud and crowded. Filled with too many people, too many eyes.

Joe’s gaze flicks past you, scanning the room. His fingers squeeze once more against your skin before he pulls back. "Come on," he murmurs, barely audible over the noise. 

Your pulse pounds as he nods toward the door. You hesitate for less than a second before following behind him, glancing over your shoulder and realizing everyone is too busy to notice the two of you leaving together.

The air outside is crisp, sharp against your flushed skin, but it does nothing to cool you down. Joe walks ahead, his pace slow and measured like he’s thinking. Like he’s trying not to think. 

The parking lot is mostly empty, just a few cars left. You recognize his truck instantly, parked toward the back under a flickering street lamp and distant from the other cars.

He stops beside the driver’s side, one hand gripping the handle, the other resting against his side. He exhales, his breath visible in the air and his head tips back slightly before he looks at you.

It’s different out here.

No music to drown out your thoughts. No crowd to get lost in. Just the sound of the wind, the distant hum of traffic, the weight of his stare. The space between you feels bigger now, stretched thin by the cold and the quiet. More time to think. More time to overthink.

His gaze locks onto you like he’s seeing something he can’t turn away from and that makes his jaw shift, fingers twitching at his sides like he’s fighting the urge to move, to close the last bit of space between you.

But then he does.

A step forward. Then another.

His hand lifts, fingertips grazing your wrist first, barely there, before slowly sliding up the length of your arm. His palm finds your waist, the same way it had inside, only now there’s nothing stopping him.

His lips part like he’s about to say something, but instead he dips his head, his nose brushing along your temple before his mouth finds your jaw. The first drag of his lips is barely a kiss, more of a test, a question traced against your skin to make sure this is real.

Like he needs you to know that this is happening.

"Tell me you want this."

The words come out against the soft skin beneath your ear. His lips linger, moving slowly, tracing a path down your jaw, stopping just at the corner of your mouth.

Your body answers before you do. Your fingers tighten into the fabric of his shirt, your breath hitching and head tilting slightly, giving him more. Giving into him.

"Tell me." His pulse hammers beneath your touch, a steady, thrumming beat against your palm as your hands slide higher, over his shoulders, curling around the back of his neck. Joe exhales sharply, the sound making it seem like he’s barely holding himself together.

You don’t answer him with words.

You tilt your chin up, closing the space between you, pressing into him until there’s nothing left but heat. Your lips part, hovering just close enough that you can feel his breath mix with yours, can feel the way he’s waiting, hanging onto the moment like he needs it just as badly as you do.

And then, he gives in.

His mouth crashes against yours, a searing pull that steals the breath from your lungs. His fingers tighten at your waist, flexing like he’s making sure you don’t slip away, like letting go isn’t an option. 

The kiss starts slow, but it doesn’t stay that way. Not when your nails scrape lightly against the nape of his neck. Not when he groans against your lips, the sound low and raw, before his grip tightens, his other hand sliding to the small of your back, pulling you into him.

He pulls you closer and closer until there’s nothing left between you but heat and the undeniable weight of whatever this is. His tongue slips past your lips, deepening the kiss, and you can’t help the soft moan that escapes you, the sound swallowed by his mouth. 

His hands are everywhere; on your waist, your back, your hips — all like he can’t decide where to touch you first, like he’s trying to memorize every curve of your body.

When he finally pulls back, his breathing is ragged, chest rising and falling with each labored breath. His eyes search yours, "get in the truck." 

You don’t hesitate. You climb into the backseat, the leather cold against your hands, but you barely notice. Joe follows, his movements quick and borderline impatient as he shuts the door behind him. The space is intimate, the windows already fogging up from the heat of your bodies.

Joe’s hands are on you again, laying you down gently while his fingers sliding underneath the hem of your top. His lips find yours once more, his kiss harder this time, more demanding. You can feel the need in him, the way he’s holding back, the way he’s trying to keep control. 

But when your hands slide down his chest, feeling the hard lines of his body through the fabric of his shirt, he groans against your lips, the sound vibrating deep in his throat. "You’re driving me fucking crazy.” His hands slither up your thighs, fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans.

"Do something about it," you whisper, your voice barely audible, but he hears it. His eyes darken, his jaw tightening. Before you can say anything else, he’s pulling your jeans down, his hands rough but careful, like he’s afraid of breaking you.

A flicker of self-consciousness washes over you, but it disappears as quickly as the heat of his body sinks into you, settling himself between your legs. His hands caress your thighs, fingers pressing into your skin as he leans down, his breath hot against your neck. "Couldn’t stop looking at you all night,” he mutters, almost to himself.

You can feel the hardness of him pressing against you, the sensation stealing the air from your lungs. You lift up to capture his lips, nipping at him, unable to stop the way your hips instinctively arch to meet him. Your body moves on its own, desperate for more.

Joe’s breath hitches, his lips trailing a path of fire as they move lower, scattering kisses across your collarbone. His hands, calloused yet gentle, slide up your sides, pushing the fabric of your top higher until your skin is exposed to the chill of the truck’s interior. But you can’t feel the cold, not when his touch burns hotter than anything else.

“So soft,” he murmurs, his voice almost reverent as his fingers trace the curve of your waist. His touch is slower now, as though he’s savoring every inch of you. His lips follow, kissing a line down your sternum, his breath warm against your skin.

You shiver, your hands tangling in his hair and urging him closer. His name escapes your lips in a whisper, a sound that seems to ignite something deep within him. He groans, the vibration of it sending a jolt through you.

His eyes flick up to yours, and for a moment he just watches. His chest rises and falls with the same urgency that’s coursing through your veins, and then, without a word, he lowers his head again, his lips brushing over the sensitive skin just above the waistband of your panties.

Your back arches, a soft gasp escaping you as his hands move up your thighs, his fingers hooking into the lace and sliding them down. His touch is teasing as if he’s testing your limits.

When his lips finally meet the heat between your legs, you nearly cry out. His mouth is warm, his tongue sliding against you in a slow, skilled motion that has your fingers tightening in his hair. He’s relentless, his movements measured yet unwavering as though he’s determined to unravel you completely.

“Jesus—” he chokes out your name, his voice muffled against you. “Taste so good,” the vibrations of his words send a shiver up your spine. His hands grip your hips and hold you in place as his tongue circles that one sensitive spot, driving you closer to the brink with every flick, every stroke.

You can feel the tension building, coiling tight in your core, but Joe doesn’t let up. His pace quickens, his tongue moving faster, more urgently, until you’re gasping for air, your hips bucking against him.

“Joe, I—I can’t—” you stammer, your voice breaking as the pleasure crests, threatening to overwhelm you.

But he doesn’t stop. His hand trails up, fingertips skimming over your stomach, teasing, exploring, until he reaches the lace of your bra. There’s no hesitation, just an easy push of the cup, baring you to him. His thumb grazes over your nipple before he pinches, rolling it between his fingers, his grip firm, possessive.

The sensation sends a shiver through you, heat pooling low in your belly as the sharp edge of pleasure tightens, unraveling the last threads of restraint. Your body tenses, a cry slipping from your lips as the wave builds, crests, and crashes over you, leaving you trembling beneath him.

Joe doesn’t stop — not yet. His mouth still moves against you, coaxing out every last shudder, every last breathless moan. His hands hold you steady, his grip firm, grounding, as if he’s keeping you tethered to him while you fall apart.

When he finally pulls back, his lips glisten and he watches you — really watches you. For a split second, something flickers in his eyes. Guilt? Hesitation? Regret?

But then it’s gone.

His gaze darkens, hands sliding up to frame your face, thumbs tracing slow, lazy circles over your cheeks. Like he needs you to feel it, to feel him. To know he’s here.

And then he moves.

His body presses flush against yours, the heat of him searing through the layers still between you, his length hard and insistent against your thigh. The thought, the uncertainty, dissolves beneath the weight of him, beneath the way his mouth finds yours in another kiss, deeper this time, hungrier.

You taste yourself on his tongue, and the sound that leaves you is nothing short of desperate. Your fingers tangle in his shirt, gripping, pulling, needing more.

Joe groans, the sound reverberating between you as his hips roll forward, grinding against you, the friction sending a sharp jolt of pleasure straight through you. His breath shudders against your lips, his hands tightening where they hold you, like he’s just as lost in this as you are.

“Please,” you beg, your voice trembling with need.

Joe hesitates, his eyes locked onto yours, something unreadable flickering in their depths. His jaw tenses, his breath uneven, and then he nods, his fingers curling around the waistband of his jeans. The sound of his zipper is deafening in the quiet of the truck, each metallic click sending another pulse of anticipation through you.

And then he’s there, guiding himself to you, his breath catching as he pushes inside.

A sharp gasp escapes you, your hands flying to his shoulders, nails digging in as he stretches you, inch by excruciating inch. He goes slow, like he’s savoring every second, his forehead pressing against yours when he finally sinks all the way in. His body shudders against you, “you feel so fucking good,” he groans, his voice rough, almost pained.

Your fingers twitch against his skin, needing more, needing to feel him. You reach for his shirt, bunching the fabric, pushing it up just enough to reveal the solid warmth of his stomach, the defined ridges of his abdomen. Your palms slide over him, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your fingertips, the way his muscles tense under your touch.

He grunts at the contact, his body responding instantly. His hips shift, just slightly, but the movement is enough to have you whimpering, your legs tightening around his waist, pulling him deeper.

That’s all the encouragement he needs.

His grip on your hips tightens as he starts to move, slow at first, dragging every thrust out like he wants to commit this to memory. But it doesn’t last, his control frays too quickly and soon, he’s driving into you with a force that steals the air from your lungs.

The sounds between you; his breath, ragged and uneven, the wet slap of skin against skin, the soft creak of leather beneath you, fill the small space, drowning out the world beyond the truck.

Every thrust sends a jolt of pleasure through you, every noise he makes only fuels the fire burning inside you. His hands roam, gripping, teasing, pushing you closer to the edge until it’s too much, until the pleasure coils so tight you feel like you might snap.

“Joe, I’m—” The words are barely out before he angles his hips just right, hitting that spot that has your vision blurring, your body bowing into him, every thought dissolving into pure sensation.

He groans, his pace quickening, his thrusts turning rougher, more desperate, his breath hot against your skin. “C’mon,” he rasps, voice thick with need. “Let me feel it.”

And you do.

Your body tightens, your back arching as pleasure overtakes you, crashing through you in waves, leaving you breathless, trembling beneath him. The sound that escapes you is involuntary, raw, and it sets something off in him. Joe follows a second later, his hips stuttering, his movements turning jerky as he buries himself deep, a ragged groan ripping from his throat as he comes.

For a moment, the only thing that exists is the sound of your heavy breathing, tangled together, filling the confined space of the truck. His forehead presses against yours, his body still trembling with the aftershocks, and for just a second, everything else fades.

But then his grip on you loosens. The heat of his hands disappears, replaced by the cool air settling in the space between you. Reality creeps back in, slow but certain.

Joe exhales, shifting back against the seat, his chest rising and falling with the remnants of uneven breaths. He moves sluggishly, almost like he’s reluctant, lifting his hips just enough to drag his boxers and jeans back up. His fingers fumble with the button before securing it, and then he rakes a hand through his damp hair.

And just like that, the shift is instant.

The momentary haze shatters, and cold clarity rushes in.

Your pulse pounds in your ears, your skin still tingling where his hands had been, but the weight of what just happened slams into you all at once.

You move fast, scrambling to pull your pants up, to fix your shirt, to smooth down the mess of your hair — to piece yourself back together before it all slips too far out of reach. Your fingers shake as you fumble with the fabric, your breath still uneven, but you don’t stop. You can’t.

You need to leave.

Just for a second, your eyes lock with his. Joe doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t reach for you, doesn’t try to stop you. He just watches with an unreadable expression and parted lips, like he might speak. 

But he doesn’t. 

You don’t wait for him to. Your fingers wrap around the door handle and you push it open, stepping out into the night. The air is sobering, biting against your skin, but it does nothing to take away the feel of him.

You don’t look back, because no amount of distance can undo what’s already been done.

[maskedcrawford]

Green Eyed Monster

G-Dragon x Reader x platonic! Jackson Wang

Summary: You and Jackson Wang get close through work and your ex isn't too keen on the fact that it looks like you've moved on.

Warnings: Some angst, fluff at the end.

A/N: Thank you to anon who requested, I got to try my hand at writing for Jackson Wang and I'm going to OPEN requests for him if you guys want something. Leave a like and/or a reblog if you enjoy! Much love <3

Requests are OPEN

You’re sitting in the makeup chair when you feel a pair of hands delicately touch your shoulders. You look up from your phone in the mirror and you see his big dark eyes and light brown hair in the mirror.

“Well, it took ya long enough, J,” you say with a teasing smile as you get up and hug him. You and Jackson Wang had been working together for the last 4 months on a song for your album and today you were shooting the video.

“Always a pleasure,” he says genuinely and returns your hug. Were you and Jackson together? No. Were there rumors about such things? Absolutely. The song being about love didn’t help matters. You guys had known each other briefly through mutual friends but when you had the idea for the song, you knew his vocals would take it to the next level.

“Jackson, Y/N!” the director shouts and you two spring into action with the video. The video itself was pretty intimate; the two of you on a bed tangled together in the sheets, touching, be all close and having no sense of personal space whatsoever. But, Jackson is a professional.

“So if I put my hand here,” he’s talking to the director and looks at you and you give him a nod before he touches your hip.

“And then I can slide it up like this,” he does the motion and pulls you closer to him.

“Yeah, that’ll work perfectly,” your director says and you roll with it.

“Let’s move on to the kiss,” the director announces after that scene. You blush as the time comes for the practical make out session that’s needed for the scene. Jackson was obviously cute, and him so being so respectful and kind? That only made it worse.

You can’t help the nervous laugh as you two are placed together and he starts smiling at you.

“You ok?” he asks genuinely, “We can figure something else out if we need to, find another way to,” you put your hand on his chest to stop him.

“I’m fine, seriously. Just don’t eat my face,” you wink at him with a chuckle. He gives you a gorgeous smile while shaking his head.

“Might be hard, you’re lookin extra good in that outfit,” he subtly looks you up and down. You two had a flirty relationship, but both of you knew it wouldn’t really go anywhere. The scene commences and you lock lips passionately and for a brief moment you forget its for a music video, that is until you hear the director call cut and you both slowly separate, a slight blush on both of your cheeks.

“That was great, guys. We’ll pick it up tomorrow!”

The video is done after a few days and the album dropped four months later. Your adventures continue with a world tour together, but tonight you were performing at the infamous MAMA awards. Since you two were doing a love song it was known that you would have to kiss for the sake of the performance.

“Look, people love us together,” you smile as you show him a picture you posted with a bunch of likes. He smiles as he clicks on the comments.

“This isn’t helping the dating rumors ya know,” he winks at you playfully and you roll your eyes.

“Us kissing every night doesn’t either, not to mention neither one of us have confirmed or denied anything. Besides, who we go out with really isn’t their business.”

“Ever since you made headlines with G-Dragon though, they think it is,” he corrects you.  You raise your eyebrows with a sigh that confirms he isn’t wrong.

You and Jiyong had been together 4 years, until the beginning of this year. Schedules got in the way, and Ji had admitted to kissing another woman at a party when he was drunk. It was a one-time thing and for a while you were able to move past it, but eventually, everything came crashing down.

“How could you still not trust me?” he shouted. You were in tears, your nerves were shot and honestly you didn’t want to have the argument.

“You were all over her, Ji. Tell me I’m lying! You kissed another woman before, it’s not like you couldn’t do that and more,” your voice was bitter and weak from tears.

“Oh my god, are you ever going to let it go?” he looked annoyed, he looked weak and desperate to escape the mistake that played through your mind more than you cared to admit. You loved him more than anything, more than life itself practically. But who was he to tell you how long it took to heal? Who was he to say that he atoned for what he did just because of a few ways he tried to make it up to you. Girls were constantly all over him so it wasn’t like he was in short supply. It had caused you to feel insecure, regardless of whether or not he was drunk.

The two of you stayed silent, deafeningly silent, until Ji finally sighs and rubs his temple with his fingers.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he mumbles, “I can’t keep paying for this when I think I’ve proven I’m not that person,” his eyes are cold, depleted of life. It broke him to do this, but he didn’t see any other way.

“We’re done,” he said before walking out of your house with nothing more than a kiss to the forehead.

“Earth to Y/N,” Jackson calls out and you shake your head pulling yourself out of the intense flashback.

“Huh, oh, sorry,” you sheepishly rub the back of your neck.

“Let’s practice one more time,” he takes your hand helping you stand up.

“Ji, have you seen this?” Taeyang was over at his house and pulled up the love song you and Jackson put out.

“Hmm?” he glances away from his phone and furrows his brows at the video. He see’s the two of you kiss on screen and he feels, that pang of jealousy. He’s seen the video before, he seen it the day it came out, actually. But he didn’t tell anyone. He didn’t want to think of it.

He hadn’t seen you since that night, not in person anyway. On TV shows and award ceremonies, he would watch, quietly support you and your career, even liking the first picture or two you posted of you and Jackson.

“They are performing tonight at the MAMA awards, so you’ll probably get to see her,” Taeyang calls out as he heads to the kitchen.

“She’s going to be there?” His voice is rushed, excited almost.

“Yup, we better go too, we’ll be late.”

You and Jackson are at the venue preparing for the show, hitting the choreography perfectly multiple times.

“OK, we gotta get dressed,” you say as you two come out of each other’s embrace

“We got this in the bag,” you both high five and he brings you in for a hug.

“You should really layer a little more deodorant,” you say with a giggle. He sniffs his shirt and makes a twisted face.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he laughs as he jogs off stage. As you walk off to go to the dressing room you stop as your breath hitches in your throat.

Ji-yong laughs as he feels someone stop and stare, he looks away from his manager and he spots you. His smile fades as he takes in your shocked face.

It’s still as beautiful as the first day he met you. He gives you a small wave and smile and you can’t move. His gaze is friendly and lingers for a moment. He starts to walk towards you, until he see’s Jackson come up behind you with his hand resting on your back. You look up at him directly and he can see the smile on your face when you look at him.

He feels the aching jealousy well up inside him but he pushes it down. You nod your head at something he says, and Jackson flits his gaze to Ji before giving a pursed lip smile and dragging you off with him in another direction.

“What could she possibly see in him?” Ji yong asks out loud not really expecting an answer.

“Hyung, did you really think she wouldn’t,” Ji-yong shoots Taeyang a glare, “Move on?” he finishes carefully.

“It’s been 8 months,” he tries to be gentle with Ji’s feelings, but the sting is too much. Jackson Wang was in a place he was supposed to be in. One he’d still be in most likely if he hadn’t of screwed up.

“Still fucking stings,” he grumbles. Taeyang sighs and gives his friend a hug.

“You both,” he pulls back and looks his friend in the face, “Need to move on. It’s time.” He tries to encourage him, tries to show him it’s healthy to move on, but the way Ji-yong loved you, despite his mistake, he was sure he’d never love anyone the same way.

“It’s not that easy, hyung.” He sighs as he sits down for the stylist to do his hair.

“She was everything, my muse, my rock, my reason for breathing. There were days I only got out of bed because I knew I would see her and that it would help make my day better,” he remembers fond memories as he talks to Taeyang about you. One of you and him riding the ferries wheel and getting stuck on top, that’s where your fist kiss was. When you accidently spilled ice cream on your top and he gave you jacket to cover it. When you’d both grow bored at parties after a little while and want to leave to just spend quiet time at home. He missed the way your touch made him feel like everything would work out, the way you made him feel like he was enough for exactly who he was. He sighs as he finishes getting ready for the show.

“Ok, are you ready for this?” Jackson asks you with anticipation.

“Absolutely, just don’t kiss me with tongue tonight,” you swat his arm and he laughs.

“No promises,” he winks and kisses your temple. You both get into position and the song starts as the lights go up. You follow the normal dance routine, spinning and swaying your hips to the beat, and kissing at the end of the song.

As the song is performed Ji can’t help but watch from the side of the stage, the way your body moves so gracefully and how it fits to Jackson’s so well when he had to wrap his arms around you, but it wasn’t the perfect way it fit Ji-yong’s. No, your body wouldn’t fit to anyone else’s the way it did his. He noticed the happy smile on your face, only noticing it falter when your eyes locked as you look his way.

The song ends and the lights go back down. You and him rush off stage and as soon as you are out of view you jump into his arms, adrenaline running high. He catches you with a huge smile on his face and he kisses your cheek sweetly. Ji-yong watches just off to the side and he rolls his eyes. He walks past you and you catch him out of the corner of your eye, his face deadpan.

You stay to the side of the stage to watch him perform. As he looks off to the side, he catches you watching, swaying your body to the music and nodding your head. He gives a half smile your way and you return one. His performance ends and he runs off stage he takes his mic off and before he can run to you, Jackson once again is in the place he wants to be, by your side.

“So, I was thinking, we could go down to the club and celebrate,” Jackson’s excited nature was infectious.

“Yeah, that sounds great,” you glance at Ji-yong who’s giving you a glare again and you furrow your brows at him.

“We’ll leave in a few, get changed!” He runs off to get his stuff together and you go to walk off, but before you can you feel a hand around your wrist pulling you back. You look back and see it’s Ji-yong who has an unreadable expression on his face. You look at each other for a moment.

“I really need to talk to you,” he pleads.

“I,” you look in the direction Jackson went and back at Ji who looks slightly hopeful you’ll stay.

“I can’t,” you say tearing your arm away. He lets you go and for a moment lets you walk away before following you.

“Y/n,” he catches the door to your room. You look over at him, he still takes your breath away, the way his hair clings to his forehead from the sweat, the way he looks at you with his dark eyes, the way his clothes somewhat soaked with sweat cling to his body.

“What, Ji? I have somewhere to be, Jackson isn’t going to wait on me forever,” he scoffs and looks off to the side, mumbling something to himself.

“You want to share with the rest of the class,” you sass him.

“Not really,” he sasses back. You roll your eyes.

“I’m changing so at least shut the door. He walks in and shuts it.

“I meant with you on the other side of it,” you shoot him a glare of annoyance.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen, held or tasted before,” he smirks and you roll your eyes with a sharp exhale.

“Whatever,” you pull your top off your head and his eyes go directly to your body, not in a sensual, sexual way, but in a way that he’s curious. He notices you’ve put on a just little weight in the last 8 months and you instinctively wrap your arms around your torso.

“Can you not, stare,” you pause looking away from him, “at me,” you hear his footsteps come closer and he lifts your chin with his thumb and index finger.

“You’re beautiful,” he slowly reaches for your arms to pull them away and he’s inches from your face.

“Ji-yong,” you put a hand on his chest pushing him back slightly. His eyes flash with hurt before he recovers.

“Be honest with me,” he says standing back further as you find a different shirt. While you’re slipping it over your head you hear him ask, “Does he touch you better than I did?”

“What? Who?!” You all but shriek.

“Your little fling,” he motions his hand as you pull the shirt over your head you take off your pants next and put on some comfortable leggings.

“What ‘fling’,” you ask bewildered by his audacity. He rolls his eyes, saying his name makes him feel ill.

“Your little affair with Jackson Wang, y/n, I know about it, and so does the rest of the world, besides with the way you were sucking face out there, you don’t try to hide it.” You can see his jealousy and you quirk a brow at him. You decide to have a little fun at his expense. After all if he’s going to be nosy and a jerk at the same time, why not have a little fun.

“What Jackson and I are, or aren��t,” you pause and stare at him directly into his eyes, “doing is none of your concern. You left me, Ji, who I’m with now is none of your business.” You strap on a pair of sandals and walk out the door leaving him standing there.

“Jackson,” you call out and race to him. You can feel Ji-yong watching you so you slip your hand in Jackson’s as you walk off.

At the club the music is loud and the drinks are good, but you start to let your mind wonder back to your ex-boyfriend.

“What are you thinking about,” Jackson yells over the music as he see’s you staring into space.

“Ji-yong,” you huff.

“He nods his head understandably. He heard about all of it, multiple times, and he knew you still loved him.

“You wanna dance?” His offer is intriguing and you decide it’s better than sitting there thinking of the guy who broke up with you. As you and Jackson dance you happen to look over your shoulder and see that face that makes your knees weak.

“Holy shit,” you yell and Jackson notices your body tense as he looks at you concerned.

“What?” you point to Ji-yong as the answer to his question.

“Go talk to him.” He tries to push you forward.

“No, he was a dick.” You pout. He nods and walks over to Ji-yong for you. You watch as he gets closer, and even buys your ex a drink.

“Listen, man, I don’t know what you’ve been told, but me and your girl,” you see him gesture to you, “We ain’t together.” He throws back a shot and so does Ji.

“She isn’t ‘my girl’,” he corrects solemnly.

“Could’ve fooled me. She talks about you constantly,” he chuckles and Ji-yong quirks his brow. Jackson knew you’d either thank him or kill him for this, but he wasn’t worried about that right now.

“She does?” he looks over to you, seeing you dance alone.

“Oh yeah, how bad she misses you, wishes things would’ve been different.” He nods his head and looks down at the bar.

“So what’s with the rumors and the kiss and,” Jackson nods interrupting him.

“We did the song together and just became close friends. As far as the kiss, management thought it’d be good for the song if we kissed like in the video. We’re completely platonic though.” He downs another shot, Ji-yong decides not to, he wants his head clear when talks to you.

“Go get her, man,” he encourages and Ji-yong nods his head as he makes his way to you. He slides in behind you while you dance and the intimate smell of cologne and cigarettes wafts to your nostrils. You feel his hand on your hips as he moves with you.

“Can we talk,” he asks in your ear and you just keep dancing, ignoring his words but not his touch, you bring his hands around your torso so he encapsulates you.

“Jagiya,” his voice is soft, sultry even, and once the music ends you sigh and turn to face him.

“Can I please talk to you,” you see Jackson at the bar smirking at you. You give him a half smile as you find an area in the club away from all the people.

“What is it,” you don’t know how else to ask.

“I miss you,” he’s straight to the point and you didn’t expect that.

“Ji,” you sigh.

“Look, I wasn’t planning on telling you, but I seen you with him tonight and I hated it. He had you the way I should, the way I did.” He steps closer to you; you back up hitting the wall. He closes the space, your mouths just inches apart. He’s intoxicating, the way he looks at you, smells, and just the feeling of his body near yours is electric.

“He kissed you the way I did, the way I still want to,” he mumbles as he caresses your cheek.

“Not really,” you utter barely above a whisper.

“Hmm,” he asks like he doesn’t understand.

“He didn’t,” you look into his dark, beautiful eyes, “kiss me the way you did. It wasn’t the same passion or love. It wasn’t the same feeling I got with you.” You feel your cheeks blush as you confess to him.

“His touch,” you runs your hands over his arms that are locked onto your hips now,“Isn’t the same. Its not as electrifying.” You look at him through your lashes.

He looks relieved.

“So, you really aren’t with him?” you shake your head no.

You bring your forehead to his and whisper to him, “I’m not with anyone, I’m yours Ji-yong, I always have been,” and before any other words can be said his lips are on yours, smoothly moving in sync and he pulls your impossibly closer as you fist his shirt.

“Aegiya,” he practically whimpers when you separate.

“I need you to come home.” You smile at his confession.

“Promise me something,” you say cautiously.

“Anything,” his desperate eyes search yours.

“You’ll give us time to rebuild trust and be patient with me,” you’re asking more than telling.

“As long as you want to trust me again, I’ll prove you can.” He smiles.

“Then lets get out of here,” you grin as he takes your hand and leads you out of the club.

If you enjoyed consider buying me a coffee

[livvyandcaycaytakenselfies]

GUYS GUYS GUYS GUYS GUYS!! I GOT TO THINKING (obvi) AND WHAT ABOUT AN OVERSEER USER IN TWST?!

Like, user has been alive since the beginning of time, and had a family of their own before they were brutally destroyed and they couldn’t save them?

(User looks around 17is and is a second year in NRC)

So skip to when they are teleported into Twisted wonderland, and they see Diasomnia‘s happy little family of four (ex, Malleus, Lilia, Silver, and Sebek) and they envy it.

She grew close with the four Diasomnia members and after some prodding from Lilia, told them who you are and why your envy came into play.

You told them about the beginning, and how you had four other people with you. The four being based on things in the world they helped with. And how either the mortals or another being (your choice) killed them off.

As if Diasomnia wasn’t obsessed with you before, the Yandere behavior became worse.

It was Lilia who reminded you of Venti

When you look at Lilia, you see your beloved Wind/Anemo Archon of freedom. The man who’s mind is plagued by war but try’s to live his life in freedom through music and love and compassion.

The man who protects his loved ones at all costs (or try’s to) whether it be through blade or words, bone or mind. Lilia is flattered by this, considering all the good things you have said of Barbatos/Venti.

It was Malleus who reminded you or Morax

Malleus with his scary demeanor and dragon relations, the one who just wants to be loved and feel something for once reminds you exactly of your beloved Archon on Geo and Contracts.

Malleus smiles at this and loves it when you talk about how much similar he is to Morax/Zhongli.

It was Silver who reminded you of Tsaritsa

(Note: Reminds you of Tsaritsa before the happenings of the Fatui and since we only have little info on her for now, these are my own personal hc for her)

Silver who reminds you of Tsaritsa

Oh how you loved Tsaritsa…

The Archon of Cyro and Love, this man looks identical to her in features as well even if the colors are slightly different.

Hidden fear of losing the people he loves, had to stone himself to reach his goals, and always has that overwhelming feeling of security but fear wrapping around you in a sleepy hug.

Silver loves you. He loves the idea of you thinking of him being of someone who loved you as so.

It was Sebek who reminded you of Ei

Ah yes, you beloved Ei. The Archon of Electro and Eternity, the stoned face Ei.

Sebek may be a loud mouth, but he has a good heart at the end of the day just like Ei. He wishes to prove himself and honor a promise made (just like Ei) and secretly has that one little thing that bring him security that he loves so much..

Sebek really didn’t know how to react at first, but he did take it was a complement. He asks you to tell him mor of Ei/Beelzibub from time to time. He loves you.

Also let’s have a lil Drabble story here:

You: “Back in my world, they say that hair holds memories.” *que long ass braid going down her back to the floor Rapunzel style*

Lilia: *smiles from the ceiling* “That’s nice beastie, I’m sure it must be true with how long yours is.”

Malleus: *Smiles and pats your head* “What a wonderful thing to have, child of stars.”

Silver: *Smiles sleepily with his hand laced into your from where he lays on the couch* “That’s nice, starlight.”

Sebek: *Nodding his head and smiling in approval* “Such a wonderful thing to have, my lady! Always able to cherish you precious memories of loved ones!”

You: “…”

You: “So somebody get me some scissors, I’m cutting this shit off-“

*Que Mal Mal, Lils, Silv, and See falling from the ceiling, couch, and stumbling.*

everyone: “ABSOLUTELY NOT!!”

[vintagebueckers]

   ꒰       ࣪˖𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ─  𝓟𝐑𝐎𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅𝐅 , lamelo ball    .ᐟ  .ᐣ       ꒱

★ he needed to be nothing like your ex and everything your parents hated. he needed to be loud, flashy, heavily tattooed, and slight obnoxious. everything your ex boyfriend wasn't, just to spite your ex for cheating on you with some no name bitch at a party and your parents for constantly pushing you to date there friends insufferable children. they were all the same, insecure, shallow and boring. sure you would go along with it for your parents sake, but there was only so much jealousy and fragile male ego you could take before you had enough.

★ and today was that day. this wasn't by any mean's a premeditated plan of action. no quite the opposite, it was a spur of the moment decision that was born from boredom and a result of retail therapy on you ex's card (which he didn't know was missing) failing to lift your spirits. that's when you decided date someone you knew would get a rise out of both your ex boyfriend and parents, kill two birds with one stone.

★ someone so outlandish and removed from the safe cookie cutter rich boy's you were use to having on your arm, and someone who could both give your mother a heart attack and make your ex spiral with jealousy before the weeks end. it was a masterstroke of genuine, and to be honest you should have though about doing this sooner. it was genius, all you had to do was go on a date have the paparazzi snap a few pictures and boom everyone who you wanted to be pissed of would be that and then some in a matter of seconds.

★ your friend had set this up for you, her text stating that she had found the perfect person for your devious plan and send you the link to a reservation at you favourite new york restaurant with a hundred percent guarantee of paparazzi being present. guaranteeing your face would be all over the front page by nine o' clock tomorrow, though your friend wouldn't say who would be waiting for you at the restaurant. and though you would never admit it.

★ the idea of not knowing who you were meeting in advance made you nervous, as while you did want to piss of as many people as humanly possible in twenty four hours. what if this went horribly wrong? you mulled it over during the two hours you took to get ready, as you picked out your best outfit, applying a light face of make-up but with a sharp eye as to not look to plain, giving yourself a simple yet effortless hairstyle to tie it all together. before adding the final finishing touches, simple yet elegant jewellery and perfume. and by the time you were done, your driver was waiting to whisk you away.

★ which means it was to late to turn back now. any trace of uncertainty you had the moment you stepped out of the car, game faces only. but nothing could have prepared you for the shock of who was at the table. lamelo ball, your ex's favourite basketball player someone who he would yack on about for hours at a time to the point it had become white noise. a smile tugged at your lips as you walked to the table "this seat taken?" you asked knowing full well what the answer would be. "nah, all your ma." he said standing up to pull out her chair "you come here often, or am I just lucky tonight?" oh now this was going to be fun "show me a good time and you'll find out handsome"

all rights reserved, ©vintagebueckers.

[ratsplendor]

so this post was on my dash last night and i woke up still thinking about it. bc i really do feel like we get a lot of internalized homophobia!Wilson, due to the very comphet of it all, but i think there's some really interesting angles you can play with from this perspective, too. & of course end up with some major angst lol.

so. i kind of ended up going on a long ass ramble here. i've stuck it under a readmore for those who're just scrolling. thanks for putting up with me lol

the main thing i'm thinking about is like...the huge, Stacy-left-me-shaped chip on his shoulder. because how many straight guys do you know who have made their breakup this massive personality trait/let it take the blame for their behavior for years afterwards? i know so many! "wife left me, i joined the NRA" type shit.

in this situation you're describing, i think the breakup is a huge part of how this plays out. because: 1. any feelings he has for men after that are just because she fucked him up so bad. and 2. yes, he's upset she left, why wouldn't he be? he certainly wasn't relieved, secretly, that she pulled the trigger, that she gave him an excuse to push her away. he certainly wasn't tired of pretending, especially given his new condition, which makes it harder to mask. that would be crazy.

so he latches on to this post-breakup, miss-her-but-resent-her pattern of behavior because it's an easy cover for whatever else he's feeling, on two separate fronts. and then she comes back. he finds out Wilson is trying to keep them apart and for a split second, he hopes it's because Wilson's jealous, and he hates that he feels that so much that he throws himself back into manic Stacy-mode again, to the point of being party to her marriage nearly breaking up. a guy who breaks up his ex's marriage is definitely straight! right??

i think a lot of the time we get House being portrayed as the one who's settled with himself because he has this air of hedonism about him, and he enjoys being the contrarian/making people uncomfortable, and doesn't appear to care what other people think. but of course, we see that's especially untrue where his father is concerned. in a world where nothing was off limits to House, we'd expect to see him weaponizing the abuse as part of the way he makes people uncomfortable, right? instead, he's so quiet about it that even Wilson doesn't know well enough to not make him go to the funeral. it's a product of a time when certain things belonged behind closed doors. so there are some things that are off limits to House. joking about being gay is one thing, it gets a rise out of people, but he doesn't allow himself the real thing because 1. he's not gay and 2. it's so bound up in the complexity of the first few decades of his life. which he doesn't talk about, not even to make people squirm. most young people start to contend with their sexuality while still living at home...on base housing, where it felt like there were eyes everywhere, and with a father like John House. then, like you said, came the AIDS crisis, and how many tirades do you think John probably went off on? with his son, the doctor, on the phone with him? the voice that told him how to be a man is asking if he's really gonna treat those fags or not. what do you do?

i'll end this by saying, as a kid who grew up with base brats of several types, i've always found it really interesting + sorely underexplored that House is referred to so often just by surname. i know it's a thing among medical folk, too, but undoubtedly, when his father's buddies came around, they were calling him House. hell, i knew kids whose mothers called their fathers by surname. i've always found this interesting because if House didn't choose it, if it's something that just happened organically during med school, did it hurt at first? and if he did choose it, in this case, would it be because it felt like being a man? his father, the model he had for "real" masculinity growing up--would taking up his name in his early adulthood feel like a shortcut to a male ideal that he was so desperately struggling to align with?

thinking about internalised homophobia House. I normally headcanon him as openly bi (but maybe repressed or in denial about being in love with Wilson), but I like the idea of his suggestive gay comments being a cover because he's so far in denial and gay jokes are a way of being like "haha isn't it so ridiculous and subversive to suggest I'm gay? I'm doing this for the shock value because I'm obviously straight", in the same way straight guys think gay jokes are the funniest thing in the world

his homophobic military dad and becoming independent and coming of age in the 1980s and only hearing about gay people during the AIDS crisis left him with some fucked up ideas and attitudes about gay people (and himself. and what it means to be a man)

if Wilson ever tries to confess feelings for House (or if they fall into each other on a drunken night), House would absolutely withdraw, run away, push Wilson away because House isn't gay

House then dating a woman to prove to Wilson (and everyone. and himself) that he's normal and straight

eventually, if he and Wilson start seeing each other, House would rationalise it as "technically homosexual, but not like those other gays". maybe he'd also withdraw in public where anyone could see them, and try to suppress the emotional side of things ("this is just physical, don't be a fag about it")

meanwhile, Wilson is desperately trying to be okay with the scraps of affection he gets from House, but it's killing him. he's not doing well. after pining over House for so long (knowingly? unknowingly? you decide), he didn't think it would feel like this. but maybe this is the best he deserves

[roc-haze]

Tis The Damn Season | ArthurTV

In which Arthur is your best friend.

————

Get on the plane. Fly. See your friends. See your ex. Forget why you broke up. Get back on the plane. Fly. Reopen the wound. Repeat.

Moving away to pursue your dreams felt like breaking free. Unbridled opportunity, a new city, separation from the family and friends who don’t quite get you. Ending a relationship around the same time as the move was weirdly liberating and ultimately inevitable. James, your partner, was happy to stay put and had no real desire to move on from the small town in which you grew up.

One of your good friends, Arthur, had experienced the highs and lows of leaving it all behind.

“Let me know when you’re home, and I’ll come over to debrief. The small town fatigue hits hard.” He grinned, embracing you in a huge hug at Heathrow Airport.

Two weeks later, here you were. The flight had gotten in around 8pm, jumping in a taxi and immediately heading straight for your flat. By 9pm, you found yourself laying on top of the duvet, candles lit across the room and a vinyl playing quietly in the background.

The sound of a key turning in the lock echoed throughout the flat, followed by rustling and a quiet “hi mate”. A few moments later, Arthur entered through the doorway and crossed the room to side beside you.

“I had a feeling I might find you like this.” Arthur put down the tote bag he was carrying, laying down next to you.

“What gave it away?” Your voice monotone, lacking any real emotion.

“The photos of James on your story. You looked a little too happy.” Arthur lay staring at the ceiling, not wanting to say too much.

“I think he has a way of pulling me back in,” you let out a sigh, eyes fixated on a mark on the ceiling. “It’s just nice to have someone know you so well… like I forget what it’s like to not have this urge to fill the silence or to make myself exciting to someone else.”

Silence fell over the room, Arthur allowing you the space to vent.

“It’s just fucked, Arthur. God forbid I have a desire to move away and better my life. I mean, look at me. I have a great, fulfilling career. Incredible friends. Am I not worth changing for? He’s acting as if I’m babe for the weekend.” Your voice trembled, eyes watering.

“Do you want an actual answer to that? Or would you prefer to vent?” Arthur asked cautiously.

“Both.” You finally shifted to look at Arthur.

“For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve always made space for him in your dreams. You’ve had a goal, a plan on how to get there and so far, you’ve done everything you’ve set your mind to. Some people are just content with what’s in front of them… James is one of them.” Arthur smiled softly.

“I just don’t understand. I don’t see him for months, we see each other again and it sounds like he’s reconsidered and is ready to move. Only for him to turn me down all over again.” Your hands made their way to your face, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“That doesn’t mean you’re not worth it or you’re not enough to move for. It’s just an indicator that he’s not your forever person. The right person will be sure about you… they won’t have to reconsider. They’ll know.” God, Arthur was annoying when he was right.

“You’re probably right.” You sat up against the frame of the bed. “Please tell me you brought wine with you.”

Arthur followed suit, standing up to retrieve his bag. “Of course I did! I have some picky bits too.” He pulled two bottles of wine out of his bag, before holding up an array of snacks.

“You are a man after my own heart, Mr TV.” You gave him a small grin, rising to your feet.

“Shall we go commiserate on the couch? There’s a new episode of 90 Day Fiancé out.” Arthur handed you the wine, throwing an arm over your shoulder and directing you through to the living area. “Just out of curiosity.. do you think you’ll be dating anytime soon? George asked me to put in a good word.”

You laughed, jabbing the man lightly. “For George, I’m free any day of the week.”

——

Author’s note:

Won’t lie friends - this is based on my life at the minute oops. I am in my sad girl Taylor Swift era at the moment 🥲

Working on a Will fic! Please send through any requests 🫶

Deliberately did not pick a small town as I am not British hehe pls imagine for yourself xx

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Doing Time 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, threats, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you try to keep your brother safe in jail but put yourself in danger along the way.

Characters: con/ex-con!Steve Rogers

Note: Hi hi hi

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You don't own many dresses, and those you do, are more office casual than date night. Still, you have no time to stall, no room for excuses. You pick out the only one you think you can still squeeze into.

A button-up black dress with long sleeves, a white collar, and white trim around the sleeves and ruffled hem. It's something that would look much better on Audrey Hepburn. 

You check yourself in the mirror. You shouldn't care but you have to. If you want to get out the other side of this, if you want Vaughn to, you need to go along with it. You need to keep Steve happy. 

You emerge, as content as you can be with your appearance after a day of work and an unsettling homecoming. You keep your eyes on the floor as you wring your hands. You need heels, something to match. 

Before you can pass him, Steve stomps toward you. He pinches the frill around your skirt. "You look amazing, sweetheart." He lets go and drags his hand up your thigh and hip. "Can't believe it's the real thing, right in front of me." 

"Uh, yeah," you agree weakly. "I need shoes." 

"Sure, sweetheart, take your time. Get dolled up," he moves away with a sultry sigh. 

You feel him watching you as you shift around and search the shoe rack. You bend over to take out the black vinyl kitten heels and he purrs. You wince and stand up, wobbling as you step into them. 

"Hate to be too forward but I was away a while. Pretty lady like you has me all hot under the collar," he snickers. "Gotta say that dress hugs you in all the right places." 

"Thank you," you murmur and untangle the thin strap of a small purse. You shuffle around your work bag and slip your ID and debit card inside, along with a tube of lip balm. 

"You don't gotta be so shy," he nears. "I mean, I should be. Being locked up, I forget the way things are out here." He steps close and spreads his hand across your ass. "Just so nice to touch you...but I'll be a good boy and take you on a date first." 

You shudder and resist the urge to shove him away. You force a smile, "where are we going?" 

"Somewhere close," he answers and peels his hand off of you. "Been a while since I had a date," he snorts. "If you can't guess." 

"Me too," you mutter as you back up toward the door. You grab your keys. 

"Oh yeah? How long?" He asks as he opens the door and gestures you through. 

"How... er..." you think about it.  

You've not been on many. Vaughn always kept the men away. Even if they wanted a second date, it was never many more than that. 

"At least a year, I think," you step into the hall and he comes out after you. 

You lock the door as he stays close. You tuck the keys into your purse and he offers his hand. "Ready, sweetheart?" 

You don't hesitate. No more of that. You can't keep pushing your luck. You put your hand in his. You can feel his strength. 

He takes you down the hallway and patiently assists you down the stairs as your heels make your steps unsure. Or maybe that’s him. He’s especially gallant for someone like him. A criminal. Wait, no, he’s been absolved, hasn’t he? 

He slips his hand along your lower back as you come outside. There’s a hitch in his strut. Victory. 

“Got her out of storage, fresh wax,” he announces as he approaches the white vintage car you noticed before.

It’s strange how you can pick every single thing that’s out of place but you can never put them together. It was the same with Vaughn. 

“It’s very nice,” you say. “I don’t know much about cars, my brother...” 

You trail off. You’d rather not think or talk about him right now. 

Steve opens the passenger door for you. You get in and he lingers at your door. He purrs. 

“You really do look just perfect, sweetheart.” he tickles your jawline then draws back.  

He finally shuts you in. You shiver as you watch him through the windshield. You fix the hem of the skirt as it rides up with the two sizes you’ve put on since you bought it. Or maybe it shrunk? You pinch yourself as you do, hoping you might wake up from this nightmare. 

No, you’re already awake. Painfully so. 

Steve gets in and you peek over for just a second. The seat emphasizes his size. Everything seems to remind you of his power over you. Over your family.  

You’re so stupid. You have no one to blame but yourself. What were you thinking? Thanking a convinct? A criminal? A murderer? Or not a murderer? 

“You’re tired,” he says as he backs out, “seat belt, sweetheart. Last thing I need is an accident.” 

You buckle up. You dab your nose as it tingles. Don’t cry. You have to play this right. Pretend. 

“A little, yeah. Work...” 

“At the clinic, right?” He prompts. 

It’s like the phone calls. That familiarity he puts on. Your head spins as you replay all those nights in your head. It struck you then how presumptuous he could be. How he said ‘we’. His presence then reframes every call, every visit. They were not the same to him as you. 

“Yeah, a lot of phone call,” you swallow as your throat scratches. “People don’t like waiting.” 

“Tell me about it,” he chuckles. “After how long I waited for this...” 

You stare at his hand. Huge, thick, gripping the slender wheel. You put your eyes to your lap and play with the ruffle. 

“We’re gonna have a good night, sweetheart. You and me.” He preens. “A lot of them.” 

You nod and turn your face to the window, “yes, Steve. Thank you.” 

⛓️‍💥

The restaurant is nice. As you’re greeted at the door, Steve snakes his hand down your arm and twines his fingers through yours. As he squeezes, you realise how strange it must be to him. You shouldn’t empathize with him, not with all the threats, with how he’s taken your life over in less than an hour, but you do. 

“Table for two,” he says. 

The hostess smiles, “yes, sir. I can find you something.” 

She grabs two menus and a smaller one from the desk. She turns and leads you into the dining room. You walk just ahead of Steve as he urges you on, though his hand stays on yours. She stops you at a round table framed with a crescent bench. 

“Booth alright?” 

“Sure is,” Steve answers. 

He holds onto you until you sit. You slide around and he follows. The hostess lays out the menus. 

��Drink menu,” she points to the thinner folio, “a server will be by soon.” 

“Thank you,” you gulp out of courtesy, Steve echoing you. 

You clasp your hands in your lap as he takes the wine list and opens it. You’re not very hungry. Or thirsty. You’re scared. 

You glance at him, the around the restaurant. To the other diners, to the staff, he’s just another man. The suit hides his true character. If you passed him on the street, you’d assume he was some refined businessman. 

“Red or white?” He asks. 

You look at him again. The silver strands woven into his blond shine beneath the chandelier lighting above. You drag your hand up your sleeve. 

“You know, I’m not much of a drinker,” you murmur. 

“Well, it’s a special night, isn’t it, baby?” He drawls and closes the folder. 

He sets it down and you shift forward on the seat. He touches your lower back again, tickling you through your dress. Your posture goes rigid as you open the menu and focus on the options. He pulls his menu down, leaning it on the table’s edge as he continues to pet you, his other hand cradling the folder. 

“Steak. Mm. Been a while since I had a good filet,” he growls. 

“Sounds nice,” you nod. 

“What about you?” He wonders and traces his finger up your spine. 

“Hm, the pistachio crusted halibut sounds interesting,” you tap your nails on the page. 

“You don’t gotta peck like a bird around me,” his hand falls right back down, right along the top of your ass. “You really got a nice figure, sweetheart.” 

You fidget and flutter your lashes, “thank you. It’s not that. I was thinking... something light for dinner and the rice pilaf sounds interesting.” 

“Ah,” he trails along the cushion of your rear, “god, you’re so...” 

His voice peters off and a server appears across the table. He sits up and clears his throat. The man in his pressed white shirt and black slacks is amiable as he prompts you for your order. Steve lets you go first. You close the menu and hand it over after you order. 

“Of course, miss,” the server smiles at you. He’s young and handsome. These sort of restaurants only hire a certain type. 

“Bottle of champagne,” Steve begins, “we’re celebrating,” his arm curls around your middle, “and the New York Strip...” He finishes up his order and shoves the menu across the table. What’s that about? 

“Yes, sir, I’ll be back with the bottle and put your order in,” the server nods and glances between the both of you. 

He strides away and Steve growls. His fingertips dig into your side. He leans back and sucks his teeth. 

“Is something... wrong?” You twist to look at him. 

“That... guy. Looking at you like that,” he sneers. “He’s supposed to be taking our order, not ogling you.” 

“No, he wasn’t, Steve,” you assure him. 

“Sure as hell was. You’re just too sweet to notice. His eyes were all over you,” he huffs and his leg sways in agitation. “Judging me. Thinks I’m too old.” 

“Steve, he was perfectly polite,” you say, “please, you said it’s going to be a good night.” 

You bite your tongue as you examine his face. His sudden anger, his paranoia, unsettles you even more. His jaw ticks as he grits his teeth. 

“Steve,” you touch his sleeve, “please, I’m not here with the server, am I?” 

His blue eyes flick over to you. They search your face. You force a smile. 

You have to keep from wincing as he reaches for you. He frames your face with his large hand and grins, “you’re right, sweetheart.” He draws you closer. You let him. “All mine.” 

He meets your lips with his and you swallow a gasp. His nose brushes yours as he kisses you, softly, then his tongue glides over your lips. You resist for only a second then let him in. His hand slips behind your head as he locks you in. You brace his chest as he takes your breath away. 

“Ahem,” the server clears his throat. 

You rip away from Steve as he snickers. He wipes his mouth shamelessly as you shrink down in embarrassment. The server uncorks the bottle with a pop, his smile effortlessly hiding all judgment. He’s probably honed against all types of customers. 

He pours the bubbly and leaves the bottle. You watch him go and squirm. Steve sits up and takes his glass, “what’sa matter, sweetheart?” 

“N-nothing, I don’t-- I don’t usually do that... in public,” you sniff. 

He laughs again, “I know, you’re a good girl.” He hovers his glass. You take yours and he clinks his against it, “to us.” 

“To... us.” You echo softly. 

You drink as he does, mirroring him. It’s sweet and bubbly. He sets the glass down and reaches for the bottle. He grips it and drags it closer. 

“Only one for me, since I’m driving, so help yourself,” he says. “You deserve it. A nice night to let go.” 

“Oh, I...” you stare at the dark glass. Why did he order the whole bottle? 

He slaps his hand on your thigh and you squeak. Your hand falls over his instinctively. You look at him and lick the moisture from your lips. He growls and kneads your flesh. 

“Sweetheart,” he rasps. “Aren’t you happy? I’m here.” 

Your eyes dart back and forth, “yes, I’m happy.” 

He pushes his shoulders back and his cheek dimples, he shifts on the cushion. His other hand tugs at the top of his belt. 

“Not gonna lie, gonna be hard to hold out all night,” he smirks. “Six years...” 

You blink at him. You won’t look down. That’s too much. 

“You gonna be nice to me?” He leans in to nuzzle your cheek, tickling the back of your neck so you shiver. “Huh? I’m so pent up, baby, you gotta take it easy on me.” 

You shudder and ball your hand up tightly. Your stomach is roaring but not from hunger. The more you think about what he means, what he expects, the sicker you feel. 

“It’s been... a while for me too,” you assure him. “We can take it slow.” 

“Slow, baby?” He hums. “Oh, I don’t think I can.” 

[i-love-love]

Re: college, if you can’t get financial aid by going through your parents you may be able to qualify for a dependency override waiver. This is what paid for three years of my college education after I had a massive explosion with my parents ending it getting kicked out. At my school, you went through the case management office to do this. There’s paperwork involved stating that you are a victim of exceptional circumstance (things like abuse, foster care, emancipation, etc.) and from there you can file the FAFSA based on your own income rather than your parents’; you parents’ financial info doesn’t even enter the equation. When you’re working part time at minimum wage, you qualify for a lot of grants and need based scholarships, so you don’t even have to take out loans.

You may also, depending on your state, qualify for a homeless waiver. I was in Florida at the time and staying with my ex’s family. The case management officer I worked with opened the conversation with “so I did some looking at the rules, and great news, you’re homeless!” Even though the situation was stable (because my ex’s mom is a saint), legally it was classed as couch surfing. At my university, being homeless meant you were exempt from paying tuition, and because the dorms were only open 9 months of the year, staying in them didn’t nullify this benefit.

The end result was that I was exempt from paying tuition, but receiving enough merit and need based scholarships to pay for my dorm, my health insurance, my books, and enough left over to stick in a savings account which ended up paying for furnishing my first apartment and moving across the country for a job after graduation.

If you’re in college already, you can get in touch with your counseling center, student support center, case management, etc. (it’ll vary by school, but if you don’t know where to go you can always ask a professor/advisor/dean and they can point you in the right direction) and they can walk you through this process. If you’re not in college yet, you can apply (some even have a fee waiver process to make this part free) and then get in contact with case management/financial aid after you’re accepted to work out the details of getting an override. I don’t know if this is available everywhere, and it’s not something they like to advertise to prevent people from abusing the system, but it was a really easy process at my public university.

As far as surviving the situation while you’re stuck in it… money is obviously the biggest determining factor here. If you can get a job or have an allowance that’s ideal, because money buys you access to distractions.

Getting a separate phone can be a big help, since you can use it to access resources and information they don’t want you to have as well as for hobby stuff like tumblr. Make sure you never connect this phone to their home WiFi network. It’s also simpler if it uses the same charger as your “real” phone so you don’t have to field questions about why you have two kinds. Tracfone and similar companies sell cheap smartphones and you can buy data/minutes in small increments. If you have a way to get a card number for digital payments, you could even sign up for one of the budget carriers (I’ve used Mint since a week after I was kicked out and it’s never done me wrong). A prepaid Visa gift card (a reloadable one is even better) works for this, for the record.

Find stuff to occupy your mind. A hobby, a TV show, whatever works. Having something to think about other than your situation makes it a lot more bearable. I made it a hobby to learn everything I could about “adulting” so I’d be ready as soon as I was on my own— read up on things like how to get health insurance, financial literacy, finding a safe apartment, housekeeping, cooking, effective grocery shopping (this pairs with cooking— if you can cook anything, it’s a lot easier to shop according to the sales/coupons/weekly ads), job interviewing, safe dating (this is a big one since growing up in an abusive home primes you for abusive relationships later and it’s important to be able to recognize the signs and red flags), health, first aid, buying a car, etc. This will make the transition out a lot smoother when you get there, it’s not so scary to be on your own if you know what you’re doing. I’m about to turn 23 and I’ve never run into an “adulting” situation I didn’t feel completely competent handling because I spent so much time as a teenager learning how these things work.

Even if you plan to/have to stick it out until you’re old enough to leave, having a bug-out bag and plan can be a big comfort. I had a backpack in the back of my closet where I started slowly stashing food, clothes, scissors, etc. My best friend and I had a little mantra, whenever things were rough we’d just repeat the number 183 back to each other because that was the cost of a bus ticket from my city to hers. I had a plan for the steps I’d take if things got to be too much— I’d finish packing the go bag, go out the back door, walk two miles to the dollar store to buy hair dye, cut and dye my hair in a gas station bathroom, hitchhike to the greyhound station, and ride up to meet my best friend a few states away. It wasn’t a perfect plan (I was 15, what can I say) but having it in the back of my mind that if I ever couldn’t take it anymore I wasn’t totally trapped helped me a lot.

This sucks and I’m sorry you’re in this situation but it does get better once you get out.

i know i KNOW this has nothing to do with what you do. im sorry. but do you have any resources for surviving an abusive situation? (surviving, not getting out. i can't leave [its parents, not a partner])

hey red alert gang can we get some advice/resources for this person?

[artsninspo]

COUNTERFEIT - four

⇽ part three

➨ rio's library - good girl nbc

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

🍒 pairing: Rio (Good Girls) X Faith (Original Character) All my characters are black women.

🍒 word count: ~1.8K

🍒 summary: Faith continues working at the bar with Diego, run-ins with Rio continue. Jason reveals the repercussions for his actions and Char reveals unsurprising feelings. Tensions rise at the end of the night when Rio reveals his disposition and intentions.

four - playing games

I’ve been making so much money over the past month. So much so that I can use tips to pay rent and still have cash leftover. Diego calls me in whenever Rio is out of town and it’s like old times - just us horsing around and having fun while getting shit done. He’s the reason I’m here we’re out of our fruit supply so i’m here to top up. You'd be surprised by how much  guys at the bar love themselves some lime wedges on their drinks and orange rinds in their old fashioneds. I’m in the grocery pick up line and I see Jason. He looks startled before he glares looking straight ahead.

 I’m fine if he is. 

Mom has finally accepted we’re over and Char is starting to as well. I use my phone to check out and then we’re standing next to each other, Jason and I.

“So you go from grabbing me to ignoring me?” I ask and his eyes shift to me before he turns. “Okay..” I trail not used to this level of weird behaviour.

“Guys we’re waiting outside of my house telling me about all I’d have to lose if it got out I was inappropriate with my ex. And to never speak to you again” he says.

“What guys?!” I ask.

“Big ones” he says and I remember the security took a picture of his license. 

Rio.

“You were pretty inappropriate” I admit and he swallows. “And you weren’t even willing to fight some big guys for me so I couldn’t have meant as much as you thought I did” I add getting my groceries.

“Faith” he calls.

“Listen to the big ones” I cut him off before loading up my car and leaving him where he stands.

…

D and I set up the bar for tonight.  There are cases of liquor to unload because we’re a dynamic duo and nothing lasts on the shelves. I ran through the supply by using the divisiveness of sports to my advantage. D and I became representatives of each team. For the love of pride and bragging rights we made the competition a variety of drinking games - we burned right through the reserves. The bar has been filling up so much D’s had to send people away and get security. I’m doing really well financially on my own for the first time in my life. It makes me feel closer to my father and uncle.  They lived and breathed their work and I feel similar about helping Diego with his bar and now having big cash deposits to show for it. Once we’re done with the set up I head to lunch to meet Char.

“You’re late” she notifies me.

“As usual” I remind her with a smile and she rolls her eyes.

“You missed dads party” she says, talking about our step father. 

“He’s not my dad. Ours is dead.” I remind her.

“Merrick has been our dad since we were 12” she says and I smile to keep myself from arguing with her.

“I’m gonna need a strong drink tonight” I mutter looking at the menu and she huffs.

“He put you through college” She starts, reminding me of Merrick’s good deeds.

“He’s not my dad and I don’t like politicians” I counter in defiance.

“You need to grow up,” she mutters.

“You need to stop thinking money is everything” I tell her. Her expression softens and she looks away being flirty. I frown, turn and see Rio. I can't hold my smile back as he smirks, nodding in my direction. 

“You’re a mess!”  I chide her.

“He’s handsome and understands classic style” she comments after having only seen him twice. I look at him over again before smiling amused at her. She really must be Merrick’s daughter because if she remembered anything about our father then she’d know Rio’s code isn’t the law. “He has good taste, both places we’ve seen him in have been upscale.” She adds, sounding like mom.

“So you think he’s a gentleman?” I ask.

“You say that like he isn’t” she raises a brow. I haven't told anyone about my run in with Jason and his allegations. Rio is the top culprit.

“I don’t know him. I’ve only seen him around a few times” I shrug, not wanting to overshare.

Char looks surprised. “Lately?”

“No” I admit.

“How do I look?” She whispers adjusting her tits in her shirt. I laugh

“Respectable” I remark just as I’m brought my favorite drink with extra cherries.

“Thank you,” I tell the server.

“What would you like? On the house?”  The server smiles asking Char.

“Chardonnay,” she says, trying to sound classy.

“Chardonnay because my name is Char” I mock when the server leaves and she flips me off.

“How does he remember Your favorite drink if you’ve met him twice?” she inquires.

“He’s attentive,” I shrug. “Also how hard is it to remember tequila soaked cherries. It's harder to remember Chardonnay” I joke and she looks puzzled.

“Shit” she panics and I laugh at her nativité.

“What does he do?” She asks.

“I’ve never asked” I tell her truthfully.

“You’ve never asked, he’s both of our type physically.” Char says growing suspicious of me.

“I never asked because occupation doesn’t impress me” I tell her and Rio comes over with her drink and a smile.

“Anything you want is on the house” he repeats.

“My sister Char” I introduce.

“Rio, nice to meet you.” he smiles and she shakes his hand with a sparkle in her eye. She totally buys the nice guy act which amuses me. Our introduction was much more … tense.

“So Rio, what do you do?” Char asks and I smile embarrassed at her lack of game.

“I work in entertainment, run a few bars and clubs, you know” he says.

“Well that’s great, I work in PR. In case you ever need anything” she smiles.

“Chars the best” I add as a wingwoman. Rio looks me over before smiling.

“Are you working with Diego tonight?” He asks.

“They don’t work together” Char interjects. “Faith is in interior design.” 

“I know she’s been working with Diego on the Bar’s design.” Rio says recovering from his fumble and perceptively fixing it with a believable lie to maintain my secret. “Who’s older?” Rio asks, changing the subject while looking between us.

“Char by eleven months” I respond assisting in the deception. No wonder he juggles two women and doesn't seem stressed.

“Well you’re welcome here anytime, beautiful women are good for business” he flirts making my sister blush as he leaves our table.

“Play a little hard to get” I whisper once he’s gone.

“He’s charming,” she swoons.

“He’s trouble” I tell her. “Probably fantasizing about having both of us at the same time” I tell her and she blanches.

“You’re sick!” She frowns, sounding like mom.

“Earth to Char” I roll my eyes. “He walks around buying drinks and giving away complimentary meals. We aren’t special and gorgeous women are everywhere. Believe me when I tell you he’s out here living great” I tell her and she fans me off.

…

Bars closing in five and Diego and I are doing a tiebreaker. The guys don’t know that our shots are water unlike theirs. Diego lets me win and my side roars. I jump around clumsily pretending to be more sloshed than I am and collect tips as the guys file out. Security turns off the open sign and starts closing the blinds.. Rio walks in from the back and pours from my bottle. He smells the liquid and smiles.

“Water” he says and I nod.

“Diego said it would be dangerous if we were too drunk,” I explain.

“Diego has some business to take care of, so I’ll drop you home” he says and I turn to D.

“D?” I ask to confirm.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, thanks Faith” he smiles, handing me my tips. 

“Okay” I nod, turning to look at Rio. I follow him out to his car. It’s a Benz truck and I’m surprised when he gets my door. I hop in and wait for him to start it up before setting the GPS.

“Why didn’t you tell your sister you work here?” He pries.

“Then she’ll tell my mom and my mom will ask why she paid for college for me to serve drinks” I tell him honestly.

“But your sister’s into me,” he smiles.

“Yeah, but you’d hurt her, and I’m crazy. If Diego tip-toes around you it’ll end badly for all of us if you make my sister cry.” I warn.

“Well then we should be alright” he mutters.

“Don’t lie and promise you won’t hurt her feelings” I tell him and he chuckles.

“Do you one better, she’s not the sister I’m into” he smirks.

“Lucky me” I smile.

“At least you’re smiling” he says while driving.

“That was smooth, the kind of thing I’d say” I admit and now he smiles.

“That’s how you got ole boy who was tweaking at the club?” Rio asks keeping his eyes on the road.

“You scared him by the way” I told him.

“If he isn’t willing to fight or take a couple hits for his girl you’re better without him” Rio says and it’s funny we’re on the same page.

“He’s a lover not a fighter, good man” I add.

“Good men don’t grab women when they’re trying to get away,” he says and I scoff. “And women don’t try to get away from me” he says before I can comment.

“I’ll hold you to it,” I respond.

“Never said I was a good man” he rasps, his honesty is refreshing. He is who he is and isn't running from it.

“Why were you such a jerk that first night?” I ask.

“I’m not good with strangers,” he admits.

“First lie” I comment and he looks surprised for a moment before looking amused.

“I don’t trust people I don’t know or like them.” he elaborates.

“Truth” I accept.

“So, how do I get to spend more time with you?”

“You don’t. My moms married to Merrick Chase” I tell him and I know the mayor's name rings bells. “He tries to play pops and digs into anyone Char or I see’s. I have reason to believe your personal life won’t pass the test.”

“Well, what’s another secret? I’m not asking you to go steady” he says and my brain must be broken because it is exciting and not off putting.

“You're bad news” I smile looking at him.

“And a good time while it lasts” He adds.

“So stop flirting and accept friendship. That’s how we spend time together "I tell him.

“I don’t need to flirt and I can still make you come before the year is over” he smiles and I do too.

“Keep dreaming” He stops at my place putting the car in park and hands me my bag of tips and some cherries. Somehow the gesture is sexual and when he smirks I know he feels it too.

Authors note: how are you moving forward. LMK in the comments. Don't forget to ❣ Like, ❝ Comment, ↺ Reblog

tags:

@wnbweasley @becauseimher @ariiaeltheedonn @woahthatshitfat @miniaturehideoutmentality @kokobells @ffenthusiastt @sowhatariyana @theegoddessofmelanin

@fictionalreads @roxytheimmortal @fairytale07 @rampsen @rosey1981 @lauraaan182 @lynaye1993 @g1g1l @writingsbytee @different-fandomz @rose-bliss

@loveschrisbrown20 @cherrybeedotcom @ariiaellbtheedonn @motheroffae @prettylilteine @thabiddie23 @next-bex-bet @magik22 @slvt4her @blckblossom @gopaperless @naughtynolly-

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[artificialharmony]

A little (long) deep dive into Seunghyun's weed scandal

I don't like talking about this but I'm doing an effort here cuz I've been seeing so much wrong information around this topic, so since I've been a fan of this man since I was a wee 13 year old (shit that was so long ago), I don't like people spreading fake stuff about him and smearing his name, Seunghyun has enough problems to deal with as it is, he doesn't need more to his plate.

This is the only time I'm talking about this too cuz I hate to remember that shitshow so much its insane.

[Before starting, just a fair warning that this post will skim over subjects like severe depression, suicide and other mental health issues. You've been warned.]

I know that in the past 7 years, a whole wave of new fans entered this wretched kpop scene and I realised that a lot of them know don't really know who Seunghyun is and why he is so hated by the general public in Korea. So allow me to paint the whole picture of his scandal and how it uncovered the heinous underbelly of the korean entertainment industry since I've watched it all.

In 2017, right after TOP's very emotional farewell to the fans as he was the first to be enlisted within the group, he finished the first two weeks of training and a photo spread around of him wearing his name tag in the other side of his uniform, unlike his colleagues. It was really the first legitimate controversy he's ever been and hate comments started to slowly pour in.

Of course, I'm not korean and I have never been in the army, and to a degree I agree it was a mistake on Seunghyun's part, but at the same time I find hate comments a rather immature and aggressive way of correcting a simple mistake like that. Anyways, he then chose the route of being a public servant and a police officer, a choice many koreans found as almost cowardly, as if he was weak for choosing 'an easy job' for his mandatory elistement. They even accused the army of giving Seunghyun special treatment (the same accusations were later thrown at GD when he enlisted) because he was a member of Bigbang.

After a couple of weeks of being a police officer is when a nightmare would ensue for the following decade. I'm not exaggerating when I say it was a nightmare and this is from a fan's perspective, so I can't even imagine how it for Seunghyun and his family.

During his service, news broke out that he had tested positive for weed and that he had smoked it at least four times in the past 5 years. Of course the number of times was his own admission during the investigation so there's no denying that he did smoke weed and that he did break the law. Aside from the criminal charges, another important detail should be mentioned which is also the reason as to why Seunghyun was suspected of doing drugs in the first place.

In 2015, a female trainee was contacted by Seunghyun, presumably romantically at first, but after some time, she started supplying him weed. Whether he had asked for it or she had offered it to him, it's really a matter of he said, she said and no one really knows the truth but themselves. Even the nature of their relationship is guesswork at best. Whether he really contacted her looking for a lover or whether he knew of her drug dealing and contacted her for that and that developed into something more is unknown.

Seunghyun did say that she was an ex girlfriend and she did say some unsavoury sexual comments about him shortly after his scandal that hinted at them being more than just acquaintances, though both accounts are highly unreliable. Seunghyun said she was an ex girlfriend to the press before his sentencing since it probably would’ve been even worse for him if she wasn’t.

And she… well, she is Han Seo Hee.

A little bit on Han Seo Hee for the people who only got into kpop just now, to explain my distaste at her antics and to avoid any accusations that I'm just blindly defending a grown ass man who was misled into crime because of an evil woman as if he isn’t responsible for his own actions and decisions.

She has been proven time and time again that she lies, blackmails and is ought to destroy specifically male kpop idols. She spreads rumours and threatens to release dirt on them but backs down once asked for evidence. She is a malignant force that enjoys wreaking havoc and is rarely punished for it because of her father’s high position and bags of money. She was even found to abuse actual meth but only got a slap on the wrist for it because of her father. She is not some innocent lady, she knows exactly what she’s doing. There’s a lot of controversies regarding her that this long post would turn infinite and I bet I don’t even know all of them, but if you want to check for yourself, it’s out there on the internet.

Though before continuing, I need to mention the fact that YG (Seunghyun's ex-boss) knew that she smoked weed with Seunghyun and sent her to America until he enlisted, and maybe that’s why she exposed him, though who knows. As much as I detest her, YG is also a cunt in his own right.

Anyways, for some unknown reason, maybe due to a lull in terms of scandals during that time, but the news about Seunghyun exploded. There wasn’t a single person active in kpop during that time who didn’t follow the story.

But it wasn’t really a story, it was a tragedy.

Seunghyun was swarmed with hate comments that reached thousands and thousands of likes in Korean media. They were spitting straight venom and it was so intense that I genuinely started to fear of the repercussions and my fears unfortunately did come true eventualy.

There's this pic of him in a police uniform exiting the police station he was stationed in with a small smile on his face that many of new fans swoon over everywhere on Tiktok and here too. But I remember how hate comments jumped at the opportunity of dragging him through the mud because of that smile. But to us VIPs, it didn’t feel like the smile of someone unapologetic of what he did, it was the smile of someone genuinely struggling and almost giving up.

It was something felt among the fans but not said. Shortly after that, news broke out that Seunghyun was found unconscious in his room and was sent to the hospital, entering the ICU.

Look, corrupt police officers are not really news anywhere in this world, that's all I'm gonna say.

After Seunghyun was sent to the hospital, they released a statement that more or less said that Seunghyun couldn’t sleep and he took more sleeping pills than recommended and was found drowsy. Nothing serious. This single statement not only distorted the truth, it unleashed an even bigger wave of comments receiving 10k+ likes basically telling TOP that if he wants to kill himself, he should do it properly and that no one is falling for his dramatic antics.

Netizens everywhere said that he was just a little sleepy and him going to the hospital is just to garner sympathy. At the same time these comments were made, Seunghyun was in the ICU and in a coma, his oxygen levels much lower what is considered healthy or even functioning.

We got genuinely really close to losing him. Really fucking close.

The lies spread by the police and the comments getting even more disgusting led the hospital staff themselves to release a statement in a press conference where they confirmed that Seunghyun was not conscious at all and that the pills he took weren’t even sleeping pills, they were strong anti anxiety medications. The damage had already been done though and a swarm of reporters could be seen day and night outside the hospital trying to get a glimpse of him. The comments continued being as inhuman as mentioned above.

At one point it got so bad that his mother, his actual mother, stood outside the hospital doors begging the reporters and people to leave her son alone. Tears in her eyes, just begging for them to leave and to not believe the police who lied about his condition and made it look less severe than it actually was.

Truly a horror show to witness.

As a fan during that time before he woke up and after his mother’s appearance, things were rough. It was very difficult to see a manhunt so fierce over something so little even if it was a crime. After all, Seunghyun made a mistake that only harmed himself. It was just surreal and incredibly sobering to see that happen in real time in front of my eyes.

I completely jumped ship from kpop during that time, I just wanted Seunghyun to be okay again but I didn’t want anything more to do with this industry because real life and kpop had never appeared more grotesque than in 2017.

It was truly nasty.

Seunghyun eventually woke up and then was transferred to a mental health facility, he was in a wheelchair and of course, he got hate for that. Not only did he get hate for it, he was also almost mobbed by the reporters camping outside the hospital. There was no bodyguards, there was no police, there was no YG, there was nothing.

(I'm not even gonna talk about the people who use the video of this moment to make sad edits of Seunghyun or I'll turn nasty, but just know that this is no way "support" of him, you're just reminding the traumatized guy of one of the most traumatic moments of his life, that's not good behavior)

He then went on hiatus and after seeing he was at least physically okay, I bailed completely on kpop and ceased all consumption, only checking in on him and the other Bigbang members.

Anyway, he paid his dues to the law (he was sentenced to 10 months in jail but the sentence got suspended after he pleaded guilty and sought leniency), got discharged from military in 2019 and went on with his life.

Every once in a while there’d be news about him getting backlash because he posted ice cream on instagram after his scandal, or him seen with friends by some passerby, or him taking photos with GD before and after his enlistment. The comments were the same and time did nothing to lessen their hatred. Fans were asking Taeyang about how TOP was, and him being the sweet man that he is would give us words of comfort every now and then but other than that, Choi Seunghyun was never mentioned and was blurred on TV until recently, after almost a decade.

Seunghyun was over there on instagram though, doing his own thing and doing his best to ignore the hate comments he would receive daily, while fans tried to bury them out with positive stuff. He would post silly stories at his house, photos with his artists friends, going to museums or art studios, travel...Living his life, the best that he could and seemed to be doing well, all things considered.

But sometimes...Just sometimes...He let it slip that things weren't as going well as they seemed for him.

I still remember this one post of him from 2019 (I won't remember the month or the date) that still sort of haunts me. It was a homage to his friend Matthew Wong who had ended his own life, and I'm still pretty sure Seunghyun wrote the caption in the spur of the moment of his emotions because he ended up admiting this:

He quickly edited off that part out of the long text he wrote and eventually deleted the post all together, but you can still find the full post out there on the internet. And if you know him like I do, he suffers from depression since he was very young, so I wasn't...really surprised by his admission but I still think about this to this day and I often worry about him because of it.

A couple of years after his scandal, he went on IG live, swearing that he’ll never perform in Korea again, and he of course got backlash for it, proving exactly his point.

After the Burning Sun scandal, he posted a pic and rotated it to cut Seungri out, with the captions “i love my fans” and “i love my band” which was so funny at that time because of how deliberate his action was but it got him hate, from Seungri fans this time.

His last song with the group was released a couple of years ago and TOP officially left Bigbang. He got backlash because he blocked fans pestering him with Bigbang comments after he left the group — though he recently explained his reasons. A lot of fans and people found it crass and ungrateful but personally, he had already stated he was moving on from Bigbang and perusing his own goals approximately 100 times prior to this and people still didn’t seem to get the point, so can you really blame a man for snapping?

Of course as a result people thought he had a falling out with the members and honestly? Who even knows. I didn’t take offence because in a way, it is kind of funny and seems on par with the sort of things he’d do even before any scandal.

He’s unpredictable and often gets caught in strange things, I've seen it happen so much over the years by having his insta notifications on my old account. He’s also kinda dumb (affectionate) for almost going to the moon in a rocket that had an approximately 90% chance of blowing up midway becoming the space version of those rich people in the submarine. Thankfully, it got cancelled, much to his disappointment since he had a physical connection to the moon or some similar stuff he claimed.

*Sighs* I love you so much, Seunghyun, you fucking weirdo.

Like this is the man who didn't even have an official statement for leaving Bigbang, he just announced it himself on his insta by screaming in capslock about it in his comment section. I didn't even get sad about it cuz it was so funny, like why sir are you screaming? LMFAO

Now on to more serious topics, he revealed in an interview for PRESTIGE MAG in 2022 that what happened in 2017 was indeed an attempt at ending his own life. There was back and forth way back on whether it was intentional or accidental but he confirmed it was intentional. He talked about how mentally damaging the industry is and that he hopes he can create a label where trainess can go to become artists in their own way instead of being trained to fit the kpop trends and boxes.

Of course he got hate for it but this time from international fans since they didn’t like him comparing idols who were trained to the smallest detail to robots, and there I went in the trenches to fight in his honor again.

Seunghyun has been open about his mental health struggles since the very beginning. In their book released in 2009 he talked about how sensitive he can be and how isolated he felt as a child. He turned to rap and hiphop for comfort and it eventually became his life work.

He also revealed that he was fat as a child and that YG had refused to give him an audition due to his weight. He returned 40 days later after losing 20 KG. He revealed that he mainly starved himself and even afterwards, he felt uncomfortable showing his skin and his body — luckily he got a lot better with it as he turned into an adult, he even celebrated on his insta being able to handle wearing a short sleeved shirt for the first time in 10 years, it was cute to see even though he was all shy about it.

Before his enlistment, he struggled so much with anxiety that he had to take medications just for an interview and had lost so much weight it was noticeable. His group members also commented on how depressed he can be at times. He cried so much during his last tour especially when the members gave him letters of love and encouraged him. Even they were surprised and concerned (all it took was for him to call and say he felt down/sad and Daesung would show up at his house, that's how things were concerning back then, he and Daesung talked about this on Bigbang's last appearance on Weekly Idol). And after the scandal, he kept calling GD who was doing a world tour and struggling himself just to apologise to him. Taeyang visited him once in the hospital and told GD that he just kept apologising. His old interviews and lyrics especially are very honest and open about his struggles and they’re worth a read.

He can be so inspirational at times, a lovely soul truly, even though he is blunt at times and it comes across as rude to a lot of people.

Now he's back with Squid Game despite the backlash he received from the day and year he joined the cast, and I'm making this for the people who just got to know this beautifully complicated man that I love so much. Y'all have no idea how many fights I got into over people calling him a criminal and a drug addict.

But really, I personally don’t care what randos on the internet think of him. We’ve all waited too long to let some loser dudes living in their mom’s basement dictate how someone should live their life over smoking weed when predators and abusers are glorified on korean TV and are forgiven in a heartbeat just because they’re good actors and artists. I will not take a world where punishments are handed out depending on the mood of public and not the actual crime seriously. Getting upset over some loser who hates Seunghyun for smoking weed but loves the abuser who just won an award is absurd and truly, their opinion is worthless.

At this point, I'm just here for whatever Seunghyun decides to do with his life as long as it makes him happy. Want to become a full time actor? Go for it, babe, we'll be watching. Want to be T.O.P again and release music? Ok, go for it, my guy. Want to do neither of these two and just live off your wine company and your art collection investments? Fine by me, if it makes you happy then go for it dude, go enjoy your vineyard in Argentina and sell your wine.

He isn’t perfect, he has his moments, but who is perfect in this world? No one. But he deserves the world anyway, he's been through a lot in his life and I just hope he heals and gets to live a long and happy life in whatever way happiness might look like for him.

That's all I want, to see his name somewhere in the future and see that he's happy.

(I also really hope Korea's weird aversion to weed ends one day. It sounds like they could really use some and chill out anyway. Better than getting drunk nearly daily.)

One of my most beloved memories as a VIP was when Seunghyun was officially discharged from the military. Of course, the press was ready to bombard him with invasive questions but K-VIPs helped plan a switcharoo. Half the fans became sacrifices by pretending that Seunghyun would arrive near the station, the other half waited near the Han River where his true meetup would take place. When he arrived, the smile that was on his face, he was so happy and grateful that people stuck around for him despite everything. Although the true satisfaction came from seeing the reporters scramble about and by the time they arrived, he was already gone.

This is someone who's dealt with severe mental health struggles since very early in his life. He once talked about before that growing up his best friends were literal toys (he used to collect them up until the early 2010s, Be@rbricks especially). He lost two of his best friends to traffic accidents during his teens, and he effectively had to break up with his girlfriend so he could pursue his musical career (whom he wrote one of his first solo songs, Act Like Nothing's Wrong/Pretended, about). This is someone who's made it very clear, for a long time, that he's always struggled and that life has always been throwing things at him.

He did once say that he felt like he was born to be sad and it's really no wonder that he thinks like this. It's why I stand by him, because I know what it's like to have life hitting you in the head since you were way too young to even understand fully why everyone else seem to have it easier than you.

He gets it and I see him.

Choi Seunghyun might be weird and seem rude to kpop fans today who have a very particular image of what an idol is, but he was always genuine, especially with his fans. He's rebellious, and his bluntness sometimes can come out wrong but he's not a bad guy at the core. As I say, he has his moments and he's not perfect so it's fine, if you get him you get it, if you don't...well cest la vie.

That's all.

(Shit this got long. If you read this all the way down here, I'll award you a lollipop. Here 🍭)

[spacegyaru]

cw: very toxic shidou! also, i'm having a baby fever rn after meeting my bf's nieces sooo. also, they're both 23 here!

toxic! shidou ryusei is the type to make you beg no matter what the circumstances are. whether it's in and out of the bed, if he has the chance to be a menace, he totally would be.

you remember staring back at the two lines that your pregnancy test kits left three weeks after officially breaking up with him. you cursed at yourself upon seeing it.

"ugh fuck," you whispered to yourself, after looking at the white stick you just used. you discovered that you were officially pregnant with your ex-boyfriend, ryusei shidou's baby.

well, the circumstances of the breakup weren't exactly ideal. you loved shidou dearly, but he started becoming a little bit toxic. it all started when you asked to break up with him for the sake of your career, but he refused to— you ended up having make up sex until you forgot about breaking up. after that, whenever you guys start having an argument, he brings up the fact that you almost broke up with him, even to the point of accusing you for cheating— but he wasn't agressive. it was more of a taunt to you, given his smug personality.

eventually, you got sick of it and broke up with him. now, you're in your bathroom, thinking whether you should tell him or not. you sigh, setting down the three tests, and taking a photo of them.

if you're going to be honest, you'd love to have kids— babies to be exact. but you're not sure about who their dad would be. also, you're not sure if your menacing ex would be the ideal man for that. besides, you're broke right now... which means, you'll be needing his help.

so with a little bit of hesitation, you texted him after deleting his contact, and not talking for the past two weeks, sending him a photo of those three tests.

this is the first time he left you on read, and it made your blood boil. you were so mad.

after that, you tossed your phone on the bed. why were you hoping for a good response from shidou anyway? that's like waiting for a shooting star.

until the next night...

you couldn't stop your blood from boiling upon reading this. so you devised a plan to confront. the next day, you were angrily storming in to the sports arena, after his football practice. there's not a lot of people during that hour and he's usually the last person to leave. you entered the locker room, where you met him, with his towel hanging low from his hips. he smirked upon seeing you with an angry expression while approaching him.

"yo y/n—" shidou tried to greet you, but your palm came across his cheek. you slapped him with full of anger.

"you have the guts to greet me with a 'yo' when i just told you that i'm pregnant and you literally ignored me?!" you almost caused a scandal in the locker room, but it's a good thing that there's only the two of you in the whole place.

you thought shidou would argue back, but he didn't. he smirked, ignored you, and just got dressed. all while you waited for his answer. this is shidou's usual trick to provoke you. he's going to be quiet and wear a smug expression, until you get so angry... and eventually, you're gonna find yourself calming down.

"r-ryusei— hey, d-don't ignore me! hey!" you tried chasing him as he almost left while carrying his sports duffel bag, but you blocked his way, almost doing a t-pose. and he laughed upon you doing this. you got so embarrassed and flustered by his reaction.

"you're so funny, y/n." shidou said in a smug voice, "if you want my help, you gotta at least be nice to me, you know? you'll need to take me back to your life.~"

oh hell nah, shidou knows a lot. he knows that child was made by you and him. but of course... he won't give you what you want. not until you beg for it. not until you show him how dependent you are to him.

shidou didn't expect you to give in so fast though. but you had swallow your pride. you badly need his help.

"i-i— don't leave me alone, ryusei. this is your child too. i—" you were having a hard time blocking his way and he's surely having fun watching you chase him like this. "f-fine, i'll play nice and do whatever you want!"

again, for the third time, shidou managed to make himself crawl back in your life again. you could never get rid of this man.

[writing-nothing-but-spilled-ink]

Okay but hear me out Bruce and ra's al ghul acting like bitter co parents and Talia Damian and Jason all have bets on how long it takes before they end up brawling or having a fallout of some sort but they get them to interact by framing it being for Damian's sake

And parent teacher conferences come around and Talia asks her father ra to attend in her stead because she's having problems that need to be attended to R's tries to ask about it but is shut down immediately because Talia says you won't get it it's a women thing

So then parent teach conferences roll around Damian is in the middle of both Bruce and ra's Jason and Talia are watching from the shadows

Every few hours between the waiting ra's looks over at Bruce and each time Bruce snaps NO I AM NOT TAKING OVER YOUR ORGANIZATION STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT

ra's: your too weak minded anyways that's why Damian here is perfect he'll grow into leadership nicely and then he'll take over

Bruce: he will not be taking over your crude little organization in fact you don't know him at all he's rather-...

Damian: gives a subtle command to tidus who knocks Bruce over and makes him eat dirt ra's laughs then tidus knocks him over as well, your both acting immature and like lower class incompetent beasts please I want some decorum or I'm calling mother

Bruce: where is Talia anyways (he says this looking at ra's who's trying to stand up and look dignified)

Ra's: I am not my daughter's keeper, how should I know

Bruce: glares, you two are very close wherever you are she is so try again where is she

Ra's: busy apparently with her own missions and emergencies she asked me to take over here for her so I did it

This goes on for months over art galleries, it gets even more volatile when it comes to holidays like Christmas because both try to out do the other

Bruce buys Damian an elephant ra's buys Damian the whole damn zoo

It keeps escalating especially when they're in person and have to be civilized they be battling behind people's backs the league trying to take Bruce out discreetly while Bruce is also taking them out via a remote control that controls automatic defences

It gets to an boiling point where someone accidentally blows up Damian's special birthday cake that was made to look like his favorite animal and both Bruce and Ra try to fix it but it's too late because Talia appears with a perfect replica cake and then wrangles both her father and ex by grabbing them both by the ear and kicking them both out of the manor indefinitely for what they just did to her son whole Jason is laughing his ass off taking photos of a quietly fuming Bruce and a quiet sulking ra's al ghul

[uhhlifeig]

Omg such a fun event!!!

If it's not too much trouble I'd like to request 🎵,

Wish you were sober by conan gray for any marauders era ship :) thank you!!

oooh i love wish you were sober!!

lets see how many references you can find :D

~~~~~

The bright, colorful lights blinded him.

The only reason he was at this party anyways was for Sirius. 

It was always for Sirius.

Honestly, Remus was convinced he existed purely for the boy with the hair as black as his name. What else could have been his purpose?

So now here he was, standing in the corner of a room, a water made up to look like vodka in his hand.

He watched as Sirius drunkenly stumbled towards him, hand in hand with a random girl.

“Hey, Moony,” Sirius grinned, baring his teeth in an intoxicated smile. “This is Mary.”

“Hello, Mary,” Remus said, nodding curtly. “Why are you here?”

“Because Black over here won’t shut up about you, so I asked to meet you to see if you were as great as he says you are!” she giggled.

“How fun,” Remus said dryly. “I’m not all too interesting, trust me.”

“Oh, but you are, Moons!” Sirius sang, blowing him a kiss. “You’re the interesting-est person here! You’re great! Now bye!”

Sirius ran off, Mary in tow. Remus eyed the window beside him, wondering if he could slip out into the night and not be stuck in the same room as twenty people he didn’t know.

(If it was also because he couldn’t stand to watch Sirius kiss someone who wasn’t him, that was between him and the moon.)

—————

“Moony!” Sirius called over the blaring music. “Hi, can I go home now?”

Remus sighed at the state his best friend was in. “Yeah, c’mon. I’m driving.”

“Great! Thanks, Moons!” Sirius grinned. “Love you!”

It’s just the beer, Remus told himself. He’s just drunk. He doesn’t mean it.

But what if he does? A different part of himself asked. How would we know?

But he doesn’t. He’s straight.

Right. But what if-

Shut up.

Remus walked out of the door, Sirius in tow. He was saying a few goodbyes to the people he had befriended during that whole… situation.

They headed for Sirius’s Range Rover- one of the many perks of being rich. 

Remus had the keys in his hand, as Sirius had handed them to him before the party, citing how he didn’t want to accidentally drunk drive and murder an ex or something.

Just as Remus was about to back the Rover out of the parking space, Sirius took his face in his hands and kissed him.

Fuck.

Remus pulled away from what seemed to be the first breath of air in his nineteen years of life. “Sirius, what was that?”

“I love you, Moony,” Sirius said dopily. “You’re just so pretty, I had to kiss you.”

“Thanks,” Remus said stonily.

Internally, it was like Sirius had dropped a bomb in the middle of Remus’s warring mind, leaving both sides reeling from the impact.

He was no longer sure of what to say or do.

—————

Soon enough, they were at Sirius and Regulus’s flat.

Remus got out of the car, waking up a half-asleep Sirius.

“Whazzit?” he asked, looking around. His face brightened when he saw Remus. “Hi, Moony!” he cheered.

“Hey, Padfoot,” Remus mumbled. “Come here, we’re gonna get you home.”

“Oh, I’m home? Thanks, Rem!”

“Yeah, of course.” Remus helped Sirius get upright, letting him lean on his lanky body as they walked up the driveway.

As they neared the door, Sirius giggled. He then turned so that his and Remus’s bodies were close together, and they were face to face. 

“Thank you, Remmy,” he smiled, kissing him. “Can you stay for a bit? I think I might be lonely, since Reg is out with James tonight.”

And what was Remus’s purpose other than to make Sirius happy?

He was a weak, weak man, after all.

[solxamber]

Sol's lore 2.0??

ooo lemme see

okay so this lowkey freaked me out when it happened but!!

i cooked for a person who broke their arm, for about a month to help them out. they asked me out when they recovered and i rejected them.

then they texted me like a jilted ex and scared me shitless. i almost swore off helping people ever again. they sent me 164 texts in one night (i counted)

here's a sample:

(they're also calling me a nickname i despise here)

[witchoftheshore]

Pick a pile: Channeled message from your Soul: WHAT DOES YOUR SOUL WANT TO TELL YOU?

[image description: three folded papers, with written, respectively, pile 1, pile 2 and pile 3]

The piles are under the read more! And if you read until the end of your pile there's a lil bonus for you!

PILE 1

2 of swords in reverse: you are keeping a burden to yourself that’s either not yours or not only yours to carry; you’re trying to make everything in perfect balance, but it’s not (only) your responsibility; if you still choose to do it, don’t feel guilty if it’s not perfect what you do, you are already doing something to help others when not asked/ it’s not your duty: every little piece of help is something good you add to the situation

ace of swords: you do have your skills & power, but I’m afraid you either forgot about them because you haven’t used them in so long or you don’t fully realize that you have them: you do.

9 of swords: your goal situation is something that needs many pieces to be built: it’s not happening overnight, but it doesn’t mean it can’t happen! Be aware that it’s like a lego castle: made of many blocks clicking together and coming together for the bigger picture

note: all swords: there may be a very conflictual or mind focus (aka overthinking) situation 

If you’ve read until here, congrats, you can now get a discount for a personal written reading with me! If you DM me for a reading saying “code bunny” you’ll pay only 5 euros, no matter how long it takes to make it!

PILE 2

8 of wands in reverse: you may not be seeing an opening, an opportunity, a bigger picture; this opening has a very light, bright, sunny day vibe, very relaxed too: it’s possible that you have something (that could also be overthinking or looking in the wrong direction) that blocks you from seeing it

5 of coins in reverse: you’ve gone through a fierce, difficult & chaotic period in which it’s possible that you had to leave behind something or someone (ex. moving or breaking a relationship): this period is now ending, it’s making its way out of your life

king of swords in reverse: very soon you either won’t need to hold your sword every single moment (metaphorically ofc!) or you’ll “graduate” into someone who people can and go to for advice

note: it’s giving rebirth energy, having begun something new

If you’ve read until here, congrats, you can now get a discount for a personal written reading with me! If you DM me for a reading saying “code bunny” you’ll pay only 5 euros, no matter how long it takes to make it!

PILE 3

ace of cups: your cup is finally full and ready to be drunk from: you have possibly worked a lot and for a long time to be able, to have the skills and be ready to do something (ex. years of studying to get a degree) and now you have all you need to do it!

6 of swords in reverse: something may be changing, you may be finding yourself getting distanced from people or a situation because you were all in the same situation, but now everyone is taking their own path; still there’s warm energy that makes me think that these people/situations or at least their memories will keep bringing you warmth

4 of swords: focus energy, focusing on something specific; the card makes me think of building your own family, but it can be everything you are putting your whole energy into now: you are focused on this something almost exclusively; something is blooming 

note: i felt that the main message was in the first two cards and the third added something simply because there was the chance

If you’ve read until here, congrats, you can now get a discount for a personal written reading with me! If you DM me for a reading saying “code bunny” you’ll pay only 5 euros, no matter how long it takes to make it!