#so you can see why my hair is so messed up...

[senawashere]

selam guzelim :3

i want a DI husband leon x female reader something mayhaps a domestic smut – okay okay now hear me out!! leon and reader had a kid (a girl bcz everybody is a sucker for girldad! leon please 😭) she’s like actively up to mischief + can’t stop making a mess in the house yes and finally leon says you should leave the kid with grandparents or something (it’s for the get rid of the kid project so that leon can take you out to dinner and eat you out afterwards) 🙂‍��️

Just two of us.

Husband!Di!leon x wife!fem!reader

Summary: Leon needs some alone time with his wife,so why not call it a date?

Warnings: !SMUT! !MDI! Pure smut,piv,oral sex,mention of biting and blood,breeding kink,mentions of having kids.

A/n: @shinigamigloss bunu uzun suredir istedigini bildigim icin erken bayram hediyem olsun🫶🏻 thx for the request bby😽

It started with the sound of something crashing in the kitchen.

“Jesus Christ—” Leon groaned, throwing his head back against the couch. “That’s the third time today.”

You sighed, already knowing what—or rather, who—the culprit was. The same culprit who had somehow managed to spill an entire bowl of cereal that morning, scribble all over Leon’s mission reports with a red crayon, and nearly knock over the TV in her latest attempt to climb onto the console table. Your daughter. Your little hurricane of chaos wrapped up in pigtails and the sweetest damn smile that always made Leon fold like a deck of cards.

And right on cue, she came dashing into the living room, giggling, her tiny hands suspiciously covered in what looked like flour. “Mama! Daddy!” she chirped, her eyes sparkling with unfiltered delight. “I made a cake!”

Leon blinked. “You… what?”

Just as he spoke, the kitchen door swung open slightly wider, revealing an unholy mess of flour, eggs, and what you could only assume was an entire bag of sugar coating the countertops.

“Oh my God,” you breathed.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Leon muttered, rubbing a hand down his face in exasperation. “We need a break.”

You gave him a pointed look, already accustomed to his dramatic declarations of fatherhood fatigue. “Leon—”

“No, listen, babe.” He turned to you, dead serious. “Operation: Get Rid of the Kid.”

You snorted, but he wasn’t joking. “We send her to your parents for the weekend, let them get a taste of the little menace they helped create. And then…” His voice dipped lower, eyes darkening just slightly. “You and I go out. Just us.”

Your brows lifted, catching the shift in his tone immediately. “Oh?”

He smirked, already leaning closer, hands lazily tracing over your thigh. “Dinner first. I’ll even pull out the suit you like.”

“Mm, and after dinner?”

He hummed, pretending to think, but his fingers curled against your skin in a way that made heat pool low in your stomach. “I’d take you somewhere special. Have you to myself for once. No interruptions. And then…” His lips brushed against your ear, voice dropping to a slow, sinful murmur. “I’d take my time eating something way better than dinner.”

Your breath hitched.

A flour-covered hand suddenly smacked against Leon’s knee, making him jolt. “Daddy! Pay attention to meee!”

Leon shot you a look of pure suffering while you fought back laughter. Your daughter grinned up at him, completely oblivious to how she had just ruined what was about to be a very, very promising conversation.

“See?” he grumbled. “Grandparents. This weekend. If they can’t then i will beg Chris and Claire to babysit.”

You laughed, ruffling your daughter’s hair before shooting Leon a knowing look. “Fine. But you’d better make that dinner worth it.”

“Oh, I will.”

And something in the way he said it made you think you might not even make it to dinner at all.

—

Dropping your daughter off at your parents’ house was… an experience. She clung to your leg like a koala, her big eyes shining with betrayal.

“You’re leaving me?” she sniffled, her tiny lips wobbling.

Leon crouched to her level, smoothing down her hair. “Hey, you love Nana and Papa, don’t you?”

She pouted. “Yeah.”

“And they have cookies,” he added, smirking when she perked up slightly. “Way more than Mama lets you have.”

“Hey!” You smacked his arm playfully, but it worked. She hesitated, then let go of your leg to sprint toward her grandparents, already babbling about cookies.

Leon stood, exhaling in relief. “Alright, let’s go before she changes her mind.”

—

Back home, you slipped into a sleek white dress while Leon got ready in the bedroom. When he emerged in that navy suit, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve, you let out a low whistle.

“Well, don’t you clean up nice?”

His eyes dragged over you, pupils dilating. “Look who’s talking.” He stepped closer, voice husky. “Are we sure we have to go to dinner?”

You laughed, shoving his chest. “Yes, Leon. I’m hungry.”

“Me too but for something else.” he muttered, but you ignored the implication, grabbing his hand and leading him out the door.

—

Dinner was… perfect. A quiet, candlelit table, good wine, and Leon’s undivided attention. He leaned in as you spoke, fingers tracing idle circles on your wrist, the heat in his gaze only growing throughout the night.

By the time dessert was served, he was barely listening. His hand had moved to your thigh under the table, squeezing just enough to send a message.

“Leon,” you warned.

He just smirked, voice low. “Check, please.”

—

As the valet took the keys to their sleek, black sedan, Leon turned to Y/n, his eyes hidden behind a pair of aviator sunglasses. "Ready, darling?" he asked, a smirk playing on his lips. Y/n nodded, her heart fluttering as she took in the magnificence of the luxurious hotel where they would spend the whole night. The building was a masterpiece of modern architecture, all glass and steel, reflecting the vibrant cityscape.

The lobby was a bustling hive of activity, but Leon navigated through the crowd with ease, his hand resting possessively on the small of Y/n's back. You could feel the heat of his touch through the thin fabric of your silk dress, a promise of what was to come. As you approached the reception desk, you admired the grandeur of the atrium, the classical music wafting from the grand piano in the corner, and the unmistakable scent of fresh roses that filled the air.

Leon checked you in, his voice a low rumble as he spoke to the receptionist. You watched as the young woman behind the desk batted her eyelashes at him, her smile a little too wide. You felt a pang of jealousy but suppressed it, knowing that Leon only had eyes for you. As if sensing your thoughts, Leon turned and winked at you, his smirk deepening.

"I've booked the honeymoon suite for us," Leon said as you stepped into the elevator, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. Your eyes widened in surprise. The honeymoon suite held memories of your passionate past, of the first time you both had escaped from the world, losing yourself in each other's embrace. You felt a familiar heat stirring in her belly, her breath hitching slightly.

As the elevator ascended, Leon turned to face you fully, his sunglasses now tucked into the collar of his shirt. His eyes, a piercing blue, bored into yours with an intensity that made your knees weak. He backed you against the wall of the elevator, his hands gripping her hips, his thumbs tracing circles on your skin.

"Do you remember, Y/n?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "Do you remember how I made you scream my name in that suite?"

Your breath hitched again, your body responding to his words, his touch. You nodded, your eyes never leaving his. "Yes," you whispered. "I remember."

Leon's hands moved from your hips, sliding up your body, his thumbs grazing the sides of her breasts. Your nipples hardened, straining against the lace of your bra. Leon's eyes flicked down, noticing the reaction, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

The elevator pinged, announcing their arrival at their floor. Leon stepped back, adjusting his shirt, a casual gesture that belied the hungry look in his eyes. You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself as you stepped out of the elevator.

As they walked down the hall, Leon's hand returned to the small of your back, his fingers splayed possessively. A group of men, clearly on a business trip, passed them, their eyes lingering on you a little too long. Leon's grip tightened, his body tensing slightly. He turned to the men, a cold look in his eyes.

"Gentlemen," he said, his voice a low growl. "I suggest you keep your eyes to yourselves. This one's taken."

The men quickly averted their gazes, murmuring apologies as they hurried past. You looked up at Leon, a mixture of surprise and arousal coursing through you. You loved this side of him, the possessive men who would do anything to protect what was his.

As you entered the honeymoon suite, You gasped at the sheer opulence of it. The room was decorated in shades of gold and cream, a massive four-poster bed taking center stage. The bed was draped in luxurious silk sheets, a chilled bottle of champagne sitting in a bucket of ice nearby.

Leon came up behind you, his arms wrapping around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder. "What do you think, darling?" he murmured, his breath hot on your ear.

You leaned back against him, your body molding to his. "It's perfect, Leon," you whispered. "Just like our first time."

Leon's hands began to roam, his fingers deftly unbuttoning the back of your dress. "And just like our first time," he growled, "I'm going to make you scream my name, my love. I'm going to make you beg for more."

Your dress fell open, revealing your lace-clad breasts, her nipples already hard and aching. Leon's hands cupped them, his thumbs circling the sensitive peaks. You moaned, head falling back against his shoulder, eyes fluttering closed.

Leon's mouth was on your neck, his teeth nipping at the skin, his tongue soothing the sting. His hands left your breasts, sliding down your body, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your lace panties. He pushed them down, his knuckles brushing against your mound.

You stepped out of your panties, kicking them aside. Leon's fingers returned to you, parting your folds, his thumb circling your clit. You gasped,hips bucking against his hand. You could feel his erection, hard and insistent, pressing against your ass.

Leon's fingers plunged into you, his thumb keeping a steady rhythm on your clit. Your body was on fire, your breath coming in short gasps, your hips moving in time with his thrusts. You could feel orgasm building, your body tensing, your inner muscles clenching around his fingers.

"Leon," you gasped, hands gripping his arms, her nails digging into his skin. "Oh god, Leon, I'm going to come."

Leon's teeth bit down on your shoulder, the sudden pain sending you over the edge. You screamed his name, body convulsing as waves of pleasure washed over you. Leon's fingers slowed, his thumb circling your clit gently as you rode out your orgasm.

As your breathing returned to normal, Leon spun you around, his mouth crashing down on yours. You could taste the blood on his lips, but you didn't care. You wanted him, all of him, the good and the bad, the sweet and the savage. That's the proof of the ring on your finger.

Leon's hands were on your ass, lifting you, your legs wrapping around his waist. He carried you to the bed, laying you down gently, his body covering yours. His cock was hard against you, and you could feel the cool metal of his zipper pressing into your skin.

Your hands fumbled with his belt, your fingers clumsy in your haste. Leon chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. He batted your hands away, undoing his belt and zipper with practiced ease. He pushed his pants and boxer down, his cock springing free, hard and ready.

Your eyes widened as you took in the sight of him. As if you haven’t seen him. He was huge, his cock thick and long, the head already glistening with pre-cum. You reached out, your fingers wrapping around him, thumb smearing the bead of moisture over the sensitive tip.

Leon's hips jerked, a growl tearing from his throat. "Fuck, baby," he rasped. "If you keep doing that, I won't last long."

You smiled, a wicked glint in your eyes. "Then don't last," you said, voice a sultry purr. "Come for me, Leon. Come all over me."

Leon's eyes darkened, a feral look crossing his face. He straddled you, his cock in his hand, his strokes fast and hard. You watched, body aching with need, pussy clenching with anticipation. Playing with your titts as you look at him with doe eyes.

With a roar, Leon came, his hot seed spurting onto Your stomach,breasts, neck. You gasped at the feel of it, the hot, sticky mess a testament to his desire for you. Leon's body shuddered, the last of his orgasm wracking through him.

As his breathing returned to normal, Leon looked down at you, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. "Your turn, darling," he growled, his hands sliding up your body, smearing his cum into your skin.

Your body arched into his touch, breath hitching as his fingers found your nipples, pinching and twisting them. Leon's mouth followed, his tongue lapping at the sensitive peaks, his teeth nipping and biting.

Leon's mouth trailed down your body, his tongue licking up the remnants of his cum. He settled between your legs, his shoulders pushing your thighs wide. You looked down at him, your eyes meeting his, a silent challenge passing between you both.

Leon's tongue flicked out, a quick, teasing lick against your clit. Your hips bucked, a gasp escaping from your lips. Leon's hands gripped your hips, holding her still as his tongue began to work in earnest. He licked and sucked, his teeth grazing against sensitive bud, his tongue plunging into your pussy.

Your body was on fire, breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Your hands fisted in the silk sheets, head thrashing from side to side. You could feel the orgasm building, your body tensing,inner muscles clenching.

Leon's tongue moved faster, his sucks became harder, his teeth grazing against you with just the right amount of pressure. You screamed his name as you came, body convulsing, hips bucking against his mouth.

Leon rode out your orgasm, his tongue lapping at your pussy gently, his hands soothing your trembling body. As your breathing returned to normal, Leon moved up your body, his cock once again hard and ready.

He positioned himself at your entrance, his eyes meeting yours. "Are you ready, darling?" he murmured, his voice a low growl.

You nodded,body aching with need. "Yes," you whispered. "Fuck me, Leon. Make me a mama one more time,please."

With a growl, Leon thrust into her, his cock filling her completely. “Fuck,darling. Are you sure?”

With your nod he thrusted fast and hard. You gasped, your body stretching to accommodate him. Leon's hips began to move, his thrusts slow and steady but deep enough so his cock hitting that sweet spot deep inside you that made you see stars.

Your hips moved in time with his, your bodies moving in sync, breaths mingling, moans and skin slapping sound filling the air. Leon's thrusts became harder, faster, his body slamming into yours, his cock hitting your G-spot with every thrust. “Yes yes yes! Like that baby!”

You could feel your orgasm building, body tensing, legs trembling around his waist. Leon's body was tense above yours, his breath coming in short gasps, his hips moving erratically. “I’m coming baby. Gonna make you mama again. Fuck!”

With a roar, Leon came, his hot seed spilling into your, his cock pulsing with his release. The feel of him coming inside you sent you over the edge, body convulsing as your own orgasm tore through you. “Oh my god!”

Leon collapsed on top of you, his body slick with sweat, his breath coming in short gasps. Your arms wrapped around him, holding him close, your body sated and content.

As both of your breathing returned to normal, Leon rolled off you, pulling you into his arms. Still inside of you. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

"I love you so much, darling," he murmured, his voice a low rumble. "You gonna make me a daddy again?”

You snuggled closer to him, a contented sigh escaping your lips. You couldn't wait to see what else he had in store for you. But for now, you were happy to lay here in his arms, your body sated, her heart full,belly full of his seed.

As you both lay there, the sound of your breaths filling the air, the world outside faded away. It was just the two of you, lost in each other, lost in love. When Leon got up to clean you up,you thought to ourself. And you knew, no matter what happened, no matter where they went, as long as they were together, they could face anything.

And as you drifted off to sleep, safe and warm in Leon's arms, you knew that this was just the beginning of their new journey. A journey filled with love, laughter, and a whole lot of passion. And she couldn't wait to see where it would take them.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“İmpossible.”

—

The morning after, you stirred to the feeling of strong arms wrapped around you, Leon’s chest warm against your back. His lips ghosted over your shoulder.

“Morning, beautiful,” he murmured, voice rough with sleep.

You hummed, shifting slightly. “Mmm. We should do this more often.”

He chuckled, squeezing your waist. “Agreed.”

Then his phone buzzed. A message from your parents.

Leon read it and groaned. “She woke them up at six a.m. demanding pancakes. We’re definitely getting payback for that one.”

You laughed, rolling over to press a kiss to his jaw. “Until then… how about we enjoy the peace and quiet a little longer?”

He smirked, flipping you onto your back. “Oh, I plan to.”

And by the look in his eyes, round two was definitely happening.

---

Oh ma gawd i missed writing 😔

Taglist: @shinigamigloss @eternalsams

[millalune]

CONFESSION

You sat across from Heeseung. His eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, were now narrowed with concern, his brow furrowed as he leaned forward, elbows resting on the table.

“So,” you began, your voice steady but laced with a hint of nervousness, “remember how I’ve been acting a bit off lately? There’s something I need to tell you.”

Heeseung’s gaze sharpened, his posture stiffening slightly. “Yeah, I’ve noticed. You’ve been… distant. What’s going on?”

You took a deep breath, your fingers tracing the rim of your cup. “Like seven months ago, I found out that jinyoung cheated on me. With Yeji, of all people.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and uncomfortable. Heeseung’s expression darkened, his jaw clenching as he processed what you’d just said. Yeji—your friend of ten years, someone you’d trusted implicitly. The betrayal was written all over his face, his protective instincts kicking in like a reflex.

“What the hell?” he muttered, his voice low and dangerous. “That’s… that’s fucked up. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

You shrugged, a small, mirthless smile playing on your lips. “I know, I know. It’s fucked up, right? But here’s the thing—I’m over it. I’ve moved on, and I don’t give a shit about him or what he did. But you, on the other hand, are pissed for me. I can see it in your eyes.”

Heeseung leaned back in his chair, his arms crossing over his chest. “Damn right I’m pissed. You’re my best friend. Anyone who hurts you, I’m gonna have a problem with. And Yeji? Of all people? That’s just… low.”

You nodded, understanding flashing in his eyes. “I know you’re protective like that, and I appreciate it, I really do. But you also understand why I kept it a secret from you. You can be a bit too much sometimes, and I didn’t want you going off on him or causing a scene. I didn’t want it to become a bigger deal than it already was.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I get it. I’m… intense. But still, you should’ve told me. I would’ve been there for you, no matter what.”

“I know,” you replied softly, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. “And that’s why I’m telling you now. I need you to be here for me, not as my protector, but as my best friend. I’m okay, Heeseung. I’ve dealt with it. But I need you to understand that I’m not looking for revenge or drama. I just need you to laugh with me, make fun of his tiny dick, and move the fuck on. Deal?”

Heeseung’s lips twitched into a reluctant smile, his anger melting into something softer, more understanding. “Deal. But seriously, if you ever need me to kick his ass, just say the word.”

You laughed, a genuine sound that eased the tension in the air. “I’ll keep that in mind. But for now, let’s just focus on the fact that I’m better off without him. And Yeji? Well, she can deal with her own mess.”

He nodded, his expression turning thoughtful. “You’re handling this way better than I would’ve. I’d probably still be fuming. But you’re right—laughing about it is way better than letting it eat you up.”

“Exactly,” you said, picking up your latte again.

The conversation flowed easily after that, the weight of the revelation lifting as you both poked fun at your ex’s flaws. The tv’s background noise seemed to fade into the distance, leaving just the two of you, laughing and joking like old times.

As the afternoon sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the room, Heeseung leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smile on his face. “You know, I’m glad you told me. Even if it took you seven months.”

“Me too,” you admitted, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “It’s not easy talking about it, but having you here, laughing with me instead of getting angry, makes it feel… lighter. Like it’s really in the past.”

He reached across the table again, his hand covering yours. “That’s what I’m here for. To laugh with you, to make fun of idiots, and to remind you that you’re way too awesome to waste time on someone like him.”

You smiled, gratitude swelling in your heart. “Thanks, Heeseung. You’re the best.”

“I know,” he said with a wink, his usual playful tone returning.

𓂃۶ৎ PREVIOUS | MAIN | NEXT

synopsis - after ending a seven-year relationship when your boyfriend cheats on you with your friend, what better way to show you’ve moved on than by ‘dating’ the one guy he was always worried about?

a/n: she finally got the balls and told heeseung ! also do you guys prefer constant updates or would you like an update schedule?

𓂃۶ৎ taglist (open!) - @vixensss @jayhoonvroom @i03jae @motherscrustytoenailclippings @liumoonlight @quilevyt @heartheejake @urmomssneakylink @222brainrot @lovenha7 @jung1sblog @lovuegi @skibidihan @ikeumina @honestlyatomicpanda @fluerchive @hoonkishoe @starniras @delirioastral @lostinneocity @ellsblue @wonzzziezzzz @letwiiparkjay @firstclassjaylee @yunjiiin @lilliansreality @yuyita-rosier @zaycie @nctrawberries @hhyvsstuff @rairaiblog @haechology @right-person-wrong-time @snowprincehoon @nishikio @swanwonyoung @starbyeol1512 @enhypenova @yunsiili @betda @cheruphic @rikidaze @belle643 @tkooooop @purennn @urmomdotcom5678 @stwrlightt @hyunjinslongasslegs @lilificationn @enhaloveeee

[tammyjackson50-blog]

No so secret anymore || G.C

George x reader

<- 2/2

Summary: You and George have been dating for a few months, but you weren't as careful as you thought, and fans started to suspect, and your friends weren't helping either...

(There are a little steamy moments here and there. )

___________________________

George’s grin widened, clearly enjoying teasing you. He propped himself up on one elbow, glancing down at you with a mischievous glint in his eye. “You know” he started casually, as if it wasn’t the biggest bombshell he could drop, “I don’t really care if we share our relationship with the fans right now.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at him in surprise. “Really?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, why not? It’s not like we’re doing anything crazy. I was thinking, maybe we should just post a photo dump of us, y’know, keep it chill. Like a little behind the scenes of us being a normal couple.

You sat up a little, your hesitation clear. “I don’t know, George... I mean, what if some of the fans hate me for it?” You laughed nervously.

He chuckled, his tone softening as he reached out to take your hand. “Trust me, love. If they’re real fans, they’re gonna be happy for us. Besides, there’s always gonna be a few people who don’t like something. But who cares?”

You hesitated for a moment, a faint smile tugging at your lips. "I guess you're right..."

He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. “And if anyone does get weird about it, we’ll just delete their comments or just ignore it”

You thought about it for a second. You had to admit, the idea of just sharing your relationship felt... nice, even if it meant dealing with a few haters. You looked at him, “Alright. Maybe a little photo dump wouldn’t be so bad after all.”

George grinned widely, leaning in for a quick kiss. “That’s my girl.” He pulled back, clearly proud of himself.

You laughed, feeling a bit more at ease now. “Okay, okay. But if anyone comes for me, I’m blaming you.”

“Fair enough,” he said, already pulling his phone out of his pocket.

You both flopped back onto the bed, now lying on your elbows next to each other.

George unlocked his phone, and you leaned over, curious about what photos he’d picked.

“Alright, love,” he said with a cheeky grin, scrolling through his gallery. “Let’s see your reaction to this one.”

He swiped to a picture, holding it out for you to see. It was a candid shot of you, clearly half-asleep, your hair a mess, and your eyes barely open. But what made your cheeks instantly flush was the fact that the angle caught you in just the right way your shirt had shifted, and your cleavage was visible.

You let out a small laugh, swatting the phone away. “Hey, come on! Can you pick a much uglier picture of me?"

George’s grin only grew wider. “Mate, you look hot, don’t even try to deny it.”

You turned to face him, pretending to be offended. “If you’re showing that, I’m showing something back.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly interested. “Oh? I’m all for it.”

With a smirk, you grabbed your phone quickly and scrolled through your photos.

You found one, just the right amount of steamy, and turned the screen towards him. It was a picture you’d taken of him during one of your late night hangouts, he looks like he just woke up, his hair is messy, his shirt slightly pulled up, the light catching his body in a way that made him look...well, ridiculously good.

You leaned back, watching his reaction as he took in the photo. His eyes flickered with something more intense than amusement, and for a brief moment, his smile faltered.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath. “You know what? I think I’m getting a little too into this game.”

You laughed, enjoying the playful teasing. “Yeah? Maybe I should just show you the one that I took when we were on a vacation last y-

“Oh, that’s a dangerous move, love.” George raised his eyebrows, clearly intrigued. “You’re trying to make me lose my mind now.”

You both chuckled, but there was an undeniable shift in the energy. Something about these pictures, these little moments of teasing, made everything feel... charged?

George leaned in just slightly, his eyes flickering between your face and the phone still in your hand. The corner of his lips tugged up, but there was something behind his usual cocky grin something darker, something knowing.

"Alright, if we’re playing that game,” he murmured, swiping on his phone again, “let’s see how bold you really are.”

He turned the screen toward you, and your stomach did a little flip. It was a picture one you didn’t even realize he’d taken.

You, sprawled across his bed, barely covered by the sheets, one strap of your top slipped off your shoulder. The angle made it look more suggestive than it actually was, but it was still enough to make your breath hitch.

Your eyes snapped to him. “George—”

He bit his lip to hold back a laugh, clearly loving your reaction. “What?” he said, feigning innocence. “It’s a great picture.”

You scoffed, grabbing his phone and flipping through his camera roll. “You’re actually insane. How many of these do you—”

And then you saw it. Another photo. This one? Much worse.

It wasn’t explicit, but it was borderline scandalous. You are on top of him, mid movement, your hand braced on his chest, his fingers gripping your waist. The lighting was dim, and it was slightly blurred like it was taken by accident, but the implication was there. Your mouth fell open.

“GEORGE!”

He was already laughing, head thrown back. "Nah, nah, that one’s art, babe"

You turned to him, half shocked, half amused. “You can not have this in your camera roll.”

He smirked, grabbing his phone before you could do any more damage. “Relax, it’s just for me.” His voice dropped just slightly at the end, a playful kind of teasing that sent a shiver up your spine.

You narrowed your eyes, deciding to push back. “Okay then” you said casually, grabbing your own phone. “If you get to play dirty, I have something for you too.”

George raised an eyebrow as you scrolled, finally stopping on a picture you knew would get to him. You turned the screen toward him, watching his face closely.

It was him,his head tilted back, eyes closed, mouth barely parting his lips against your neck.

His reaction was instant. His fingers twitched where they rested on your thigh, his playful smirk disappeared just a bit.

“Oh,” he said, his voice slightly lower than before. He blinked, looking from the picture to you. “Oh, you’re evil for that.”

You grinned. “What? It’s a great picture.”

He let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, nah, you’re trying to kill me.”

You leaned in just slightly, voice dropping to a whisper. “You started it.”

For a second, he just looked at you. Then, without warning, he moved, rolling over you, pressing you into the mattress with a teasing grin. His arms caged you in, his weight just barely hovering above you.

“You really wanna test me, love?” he murmured.

You laughed, not backing down. “Maybe.”

His eyes looked down to your lips for a moment before he kissed you, slow and deep, like he had all the time in the world. His hand trailed down your side, fingers brushing against the hem of your shirt.

Before you could even process it, he grabbed your legs and pulled you down the bed with him, making you let out a surprised gasp. He just grinned, acting like it was nothing, like he didn’t just drag you into him so effortlessly.

Now, with you lying down, he shifted, resting his head against your stomach while lazily scrolling through his phone. His other hand stayed on your hip, fingers tracing random patterns against your skin.

You played with his hair absentmindedly, twirling the strands between your fingers. “You comfortable there?” he hummed, still scrolling. “Mhm. Feels nice.”

He was acting so casual, but the way his thumb occasionally brushed over your skin, the way his grip tightened ever so slightly when you moved..yeah, nothing about this was innocent.

Then, as if proving your point, his hand started drifting lower.

“George,” you warned, voice light but laced with amusement.

He finally glanced up at you, all innocent. “Hmm?”

You gave him a look, and he just grinned, like he wasn’t up to anything at all. But then, before you could react, your phone buzzed, breaking the moment.

You sighed, reaching for it, but George didn’t stop what he was doing. If anything, he took it as a challenge.

You answered, trying to keep your voice steady, but as you spoke, George’s hands wandered higher, slowly tracing up your stomach until his fingers ghosted over your chest.

“Mhm,” you said into the phone, barely processing what the person was saying.

George, still acting like nothing was going on, tapped his fingers lightly against the fabric of your shirt before slipping his hand underneath, his touch warm against your skin. He pressed his lips against your shoulder, completely ignoring the fact that you were in the middle of a call.

You shot him a glare, mouthing " stop it "

He smirked, but his hands didn’t move away. If anything, he gave a slow, teasing squeeze, his eyes flicking up to yours like he was enjoying this way too much.

You ended the call as quickly as possible, dropping your phone onto the bed. “You’re so annoying,” you muttered.

George just grinned. “Yeah, but you love it.”

Before you could fire back, there was a knock on the door.

"Oi, George, you in there?”

It was Chris.

George immediately tried to sound normal, but it did not work. “Uh...yeah?”

There was a pause. Then, a knowing laugh from the other side of the door. “We’re heading out, mate. just letting you guys know.”

George exhaled, dragging a hand down his face. “Yeah, cool, have fun.”

You could hear the smirk in Chris’s voice. “Don’t do anything too stupid.”

“Bye, Chris.”

Footsteps faded down the hall.

He flopped onto his back with a groan. “I swear, it’s like they have a radar for ruining my fun.”

You laughed, rolling over to grab his phone. “C’mon,you love them. let’s continue with the phone dump "

George sighed dramatically but sat up, resting his chin on your shoulder as you scrolled. “Fine. But you have to pick at least one questionable photo of yourself.”

-

You ended up picking a mix of cute, funny, and actually decent pictures, nothing too questionable despite George’s protests. He still slipped in a few cheeky ones, but you let it slide.

As you hit "post" George wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer against his chest. He glanced at the screen, then at you, a smug smile on his lips. “There, now the world knows I’m completely obsessed with you.”

You laughed, “Oh yeah? Think they’ll survive the heartbreak?”

~~~~~~

Hope that you enjoyed it even though it turned out a bit longer than i expected, I didn't know how to end it🙃

Feel free to leave any requests:)

[d1s1ntegrated]

the way that fwb shiggy has taken over me

yeah he can fuck you like an animal from behind, but the second he catches feeling, he’s blushing and just a mess underneath u

fwb!shiggy hcs

nsfw, angst, etc

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he didn't plan on fucking you in the first place.

he didn't want to.

but you were both bored, and lonely, and drunk after weeks of meetings, plans falling through, and stressful missions.

it just happened. and he loved every second of it.

you had no idea, but you took his virginity. he played it off pretty well by taking you from behind, pushing your face into his worn-out mattress with four fingertips and a pinky lifted, splatter-painting your soft skin with multiple-rounds worth of cum.

that's how he did it every time.

when you asked him the first time if you could try missionary, or even cowgirl, he'd answer by folding you over and avoiding eye contact.

outside of sex, he acted like you weren't even there.

yeah, okay, he'd pay a little bit of attention to you. sometimes he'd let you hang out in his room when he was grinding on league, or he'd call you over to ask your opinion on character customization or new skins.

he'd show you his animal crossing island when you couldn't sleep.

sometimes he would text you when you were out, asking for a drink or when you'd be coming back.

but no, if you ever asked, he didn't like you. it was just convenient.

of course he took notice of how touya would sling an arm over your shoulders on the couch, but that didn't bother him.

or how you'd share memes with shuichi from across the bar-top, giggling about something irrelevant without him.

and when atsuhiro asked you to help even out his bolo tie, and you did it without asking, he didn't give a fuck. not one bit.

no, he didn't care- and that's why he spent most of his time away from everyone else. cause he didn't care what you did.

he found himself a bit angrier these days. dare i say jealous?

so when you dragged him to his late at night, like usual, he held you against his chest, wrapping an arm around your chest and holding you by your neck as he slammed into you from the back. whispering curses and degrading comments into your ear, but stammering as he did so.

like it hurt to say those things.

it took him a long time to get over it.

he came to your room this time, breath heavy with the scent of whiskey, a stain to his cheeks as he pushed you back against your clean sheets, kissing you sloppily and adjusting his gloves.

you let him, this was normal.

but when you wrapped your arms around him and really, genuinely kissed him back, it felt different. real.

he couldn't help but let a soft whimper into your mouth, rutting slowly against your thigh, tugging the hem of your shirt with a curled thumb.

you tried to undress and turn over, but he stopped you.

"wanna see your face," he slurs, "i need to see you".

you two faced each other for the first time- and he bottomed out. knees fully pressed into the mattress, barely able to hold himself up as he tried to fuck you "vanilla" style, arms shaking from the tension.

he eventually laid down, head spinning.

"get on top, my arms are nerfed" he giggles, but the sheen of embarrassment coats his cheeks.

and so, you ride him- and his mind is blown. he's noticing all the things he tried to ignore with fluttering eyes and huffed moans.

the way your hair falls against your shoulders, the soft curves that cling to either side of him, and your pretty face.

he cant help but whine. his eyes water, he's a cherry-red mess, panting and trying so so hard to keep it together.

he can't.

he cums inside of you without warning, gripping at your hips and thighs as he thrusts from under you, eyes blown wide as he coaxes you to finish alongside him.

"mine," he tries to whimper out, but his voice cracks as the euphoria splinters him, and it feels like more of a hope than a demand this time. "you're mine, right?"

he doesn't fuck you from behind after that.

he prefers seeing all of you.

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finally getting round to my inbox again <3 thank u all for waiting. we're so back :P !!!

[hello-gloomy]

HI! I love your works for Dr Stone they're awesome!

If its no problem could you please write a Stanley Snyder x reader (Gender neutral if you can) where reader and Stanley start dating after being revived (for the first time-so before senku and the others came to North America). But the twist being that Charlotte Bony (you know the pilot that is obsessed with Stanley) kind of gets in the way and is really jealous of reader and makes reader think that Stanley isn't interested in them.? And then Stanley kind of makes it very clear to everyone that he loves reader after finding out what happened??

I hope that isn't too overwhelming!! Please take your time and feel free to change it up! Thank you.

I hope this one doesn't suck ass, I wrote this before I had to go to work so I apologize if it sucks.

-------------------

Make it Known

Stanley Snyder x Gender neutral!Reader

Description: Being nonconfrontational bites you in the ass, but Stanley doesn't help until the end to confront the issue the best way he knows how.

Warnings: Jealousy, bouts of anger, lack of communication, weird female coworker.

A/N: my bad if this sucks ass I'll make up for it later istg

-------------------

Hearing a slight chatter at the shooting range you round the corner and hope to find Stanley and Xeno testing out a new gun prototype and instead see Charlotte standing way to close to Stanley; shes practically on top of him and he doesnt even seem to notice. You lean up on the wall and watch them for a while, at some point Charlotte notices you and narrows her eyes before leaning on Stanley even more. You sigh out and decide that enough is enough and walk away; Xeno and Brody would propbably be better company anyway.

Stanley Tells Charlotte to ease up on his arm, and she backs on with a slight pout before pretending like nothing happened. He shakes his head and glances over to where he thought he heard some noise, but he only catches a flash of fabric. He sighs through his nose and goes back to practicing with Charlotte; he'll come and find you after he gets her off his back. Maybe you'll do some target practice instead.

------

You knock on the iron door and then poke your head in and find Xeno writing notes, when you get a bit closer he glances up for a quick second and gives you a small greeting and motions for you to have a seat with him. You lay your head on your arms watching him work and starting to relax, you huff quietly thinking about Stan and how he didnt even seem to care at how on top of him she was; you bury your head further in your jacket; the writing noises stop and the sound of a chair sliding against the floor is made.

"When you normally come into the lab, you ask what I'm doing thirty seconds after observing your surroundings." He sets down a mug of coffee and holds his own; you sit up and mess with the 'x' mark on the cup before taking a sip; you look up from the mug to the doctor in front of you and see him watching you intently. He raises an eyebrow, and you finally break and tell him everything; he nods along, and before he can give you any advice, there's a knock at the door again, and the man of the hour comes in.

"Hey, I was looking for you," Stanley tells you while petting your hair; you shy away from his touch and pretend it's not on purpose. He watches you for a moment and then talks to Xeno about the gun while still trying to hold you close without upsetting you further. You spend most of the conversation spaced out and only perk up when Stan wraps his arm around your waist.

"Why don't we get lunch?" He offers to both of you, but Xeno declines while giving you a pointed look, and you try your best not to smile at his subtle encouragement. Both of you say goodbye and promise to bring him a snack later and trek to the meal hall. During the walk, you build up the courage to hold his hand, but before you can, you get interrupted by the same problem from earlier.

"Captain, on the way to lunch?" Her butting in is starting to piss you off now. Stan gives her a polite yes, and she glances over at you.

"Would you like some company?" she offers to him while stepping closer, and of course, this idiot agrees, not seeing anything wrong with it; the rest of the walk there, she places herself right in between the two of you. You're currently trying to decide whether to flip out or pull out your hair. You walk away from them and grab your own food, and at the last minute, grab Stanley some. Charlotte can get her food herself. You set down his meal and sit across from him since she has to be beside him.

"You gonna get some food, Charlotte?" He asks while taking note of you only grabbing him and yourself a meal. She shrugs before looking at his plate and then giving him a little bump.

"Won't you share a bit of yours, captain?" She asks while giving herself the go-ahead to eat some of his bread; he doesn't react, so you do so for both of them.

"Here have mine, Ms. Bony. I lost my appetite." You shove the tray over to her and walk off. You hear a call of your name but ignore it and continue to walk, picking up your pace a bit so he doesn't catch up. You end up in your shared room with him and sit down on the bed for a bit; an intense flash of rage overtakes you, and you grab a bag and start shoving stuff inside of it. 'Just because she has known him longer doesn't mean she can treat you like that, and he shouldn't let her do that.' You grumble out, so wrapped up in yourself you don't hear the door open and close behind you. A hand on your shoulder snaps you out of your thoughts, and you scream out. Stanley puts his hands up in an apology for scaring you; you calm your heart and go back to packing.

"Going somewhere?" He sits on the bed by your half-full bag.

"I'm staying with Luna for a few days." You harshly offer him, and he sighs and lights a smoke. He grabs your hands and pulls you into his lap, resting his head on top of yours. He lets you struggle against him until you relax.

" 'm sorry, doll," he whispers in your hair, and you scoff. He takes the smoke out of his mouth and offers it to you, and you snatch it angrily.

"I told her off." That makes you look up at him,

"I should have made her stop sooner; I was just used to her oddness about me. But that's no excuse, so I apologize." You nod along while shoving your face in his chest; he starts to put his hands up your clothes and then removes your shirt, leaving purple lips on your bare skin.

"Let me make it up to you."

"YOU DIDN'T TELL US YOU AND STANLEY WERE DATING!" She shouts while shaking you.

"Luna, my ears."

"Why is your neck purple?"

[devdozes]

I loved the haunted train fic!!! I was wondering if you could somehow do one where they go to explore haunted house, but like the three of them — with mydei. It would be so funny seeing them there trying to escape

YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND FELLOW MONARCH :3

The moon hung high in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the old mansion at the end of the road. Its stone walls were covered with ivy, the windows dark and cracked like hollow eyes watching the night. The faint sound of wind moaning through the trees added to the unsettling atmosphere.

You, Phainon, and Mydei stood in front of the house, staring up at it.

"Well, this is definitely not what I expected," you muttered, glancing at Phainon, who was bouncing on his feet like an excited child.

"Come on! It’s a haunted house! It’ll be fun!" Phainon grinned, his cerulean blue eyes sparkling. "We can mess with the ghosts, scare them off, or, you know, become best friends with them." He winked at you as though that was the most logical thing in the world.

You snorted. "Yeah, because that's totally how haunted houses work." You glanced at Mydei, who stood a few feet away, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, looking like he was seriously reconsidering this whole idea.

"Let’s just get this over with," Mydei grumbled, his voice deep and steady. His ash blonde hair with the red tips caught the moonlight as he looked up at the house, the golden sharpness of his eyes cutting through the darkness. Even though he was always grumpy and reserved, there was a protective air about him—especially when it came to the two of you.

Phainon, always the troublemaker, didn’t seem to notice Mydei’s evident lack of enthusiasm. "Don’t be such a downer, Mydei! We're here for adventure!" He nudged Mydei with his elbow, and the grumpy man flinched.

Mydei shot him a sharp glare. "I’m not a damn child, Phainon. You’re the one acting like a hyped-up puppy," he snapped, stepping forward, his broad shoulders tensing as he adjusted his grip on the flashlight.

Phainon smirked, unfazed by Mydei’s usual grumpy demeanor. "Oh, I’ll act however I damn well please," he replied, sticking out his tongue. "Besides, you don’t get to act all cool when we’re about to step into a haunted mansion. You’re just as scared as me!" He shot Mydei a teasing grin.

"I’m not scared," Mydei growled, his voice low. "I just don’t like wasting my time."

"Yeah, sure. That’s why you’re about to faint from fear," Phainon teased, poking him in the ribs. "And I bet I’ll get more ghost friends than you. I’m just way more approachable."

Mydei shot Phainon a deadpan look. "You think that thing will like you more? It’d eat you first, just to shut you up."

Phainon laughed. "I’m irresistible, though! Maybe I’ll make it fall in love with me!"

You had to laugh, shaking your head. "You two are ridiculous."

Phainon stuck out his tongue and skipped ahead, completely ignoring Mydei, who stood in place for a moment, shaking his head as he muttered something under his breath.

"I can’t believe I’m stuck with these two..." Mydei grumbled to himself. He let out an exaggerated sigh before following you and Phainon toward the door.

The entrance creaked ominously as you pushed it open. Dust and cobwebs lined the corners of the hallway as the smell of mildew filled the air.

Phainon, ever the optimist, clapped his hands together. "This is gonna be so good! Look at how spooky this is!"

Mydei raised an eyebrow at Phainon. "I can’t tell if you’re genuinely excited or just trying to annoy me."

Phainon grinned, his eyes dancing. "Why not both?"

"Because you’re insufferable," Mydei muttered, his hand on the hilt of the sword he had brought along just in case things got... interesting.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at your lips. These two, with their chaotic energy, had a way of making even the most terrifying situations feel like a joke. Though, deep down, you knew they had each other's backs. Even if they argued constantly, there was an unspoken bond between them.

Suddenly, a loud bang echoed through the house, causing you to flinch. You turned to Phainon, who had accidentally knocked a pile of dusty books off a table.

"Phainon!" Mydei hissed, eyes narrowing. "You almost gave me a damn heart attack!"

"What?! It wasn’t my fault! The books just wanted to fall!" Phainon defended himself, grinning like an idiot.

Mydei crossed his arms, his posture rigid. "You’re not even funny. I swear, every time you open your mouth, I lose ten years off my life."

"Yeah, well, at least I make this fun," Phainon shot back, sticking out his tongue. "You just stand there looking like a big, scary statue."

You shook your head at the bickering, but it was hard to suppress your smile. Despite their constant arguing, you loved how much they cared for each other.

Suddenly, there was another noise from deeper inside the house—a creaking sound, followed by a soft whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. Your hand instinctively reached for Phainon’s sleeve, and you didn’t miss the way Mydei’s eyes flicked to you, though his expression remained impassive.

"What was that?" you whispered, heart pounding.

"Probably just the house settling," Mydei replied, though his voice was quieter now, more cautious. "Let’s keep moving. We don’t want to get stuck in here."

Phainon bounced on his heels, a mischievous grin on his face. "I’m just waiting for the ghosts to come out and freak you both out. They’ll run scared when they see my beautiful face."

"That’s the last thing they’ll do," Mydei muttered under his breath.

"Ha! You’re just jealous," Phainon shot back, raising an eyebrow at Mydei. "You wish you were as charming as me."

Mydei just growled in response.

The three of you ventured deeper into the mansion, navigating the winding halls and dodging more falling bookshelves. The walls were covered in eerie portraits with eyes that seemed to follow you. At one point, Phainon had to stifle a laugh as one of the portraits fell off the wall and crashed to the floor, shattering into pieces.

"Whoops!" Phainon exclaimed. "Guess the ghosts don’t like art."

"You’re impossible," Mydei groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Before you could respond, a chill swept through the room, and the lights flickered, casting long shadows across the walls.

"Okay... that was definitely not the wind," Phainon muttered, suddenly serious.

"Yeah," you said quietly, your heart thumping in your chest. "I think we should go."

But just as you turned to leave, the door at the end of the hallway slammed shut, trapping you inside.

Phainon’s grin was back in an instant. "See? I told you, I’m irresistible."

Mydei didn’t even look amused anymore. "You better get us out of here before I strangle you."

The door slammed shut with a deafening thud, the sound echoing down the hall. You froze, your pulse quickening, and Phainon let out a laugh that was a little too forced.

"Well, this is fine. Totally fine," Phainon said, his voice faltering just slightly. His usual grin was now replaced with a nervous smile, but his eyes still sparkled with that mischievous glint. "I’m sure it’s just, you know, some natural phenomena causing the door to lock by itself."

"Phainon," Mydei’s voice was low and dangerous, a tone you had only heard when he was truly upset, his fingers flexing as if itching for something to punch. "I swear to the gods, if this is your doing—"

"Oh no, no, no!" Phainon interrupted quickly, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "I swear it wasn't me!" He gave a half-hearted laugh but quickly stopped as he looked around, his eyes scanning the room as if expecting something to jump out at him at any moment.

Mydei exhaled, clearly not impressed. "Let's just find a way out before this place decides it wants to trap us inside."

You didn’t have to say anything. Mydei’s words were enough to make you move faster, even though the darkness seemed to stretch on forever, pressing in around you. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. The last thing you needed was to panic right now.

You approached the door and turned the handle, but it was no use. The door was locked from the other side. Something was holding it shut. The temperature in the room dropped again, and this time, it wasn’t from the wind. You felt it—a cold, creeping sensation that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

"Alright, this is getting real now," Phainon whispered, his voice uncharacteristically tense. He had wandered off a little, his fingers lightly grazing the walls of the hallway. "So, let’s figure out what’s going on here before we become ghost food, yeah?"

But it was Mydei who stepped forward, his large frame blocking your view of the door. His golden eyes were narrowed, scanning the surroundings with that quiet intensity he always had.

"Stay close," he ordered, his voice more serious than you had ever heard it. "Don’t stray."

You and Phainon exchanged a quick glance. The playful energy from earlier had evaporated, replaced by something else—something unspoken. Despite Mydei’s grumpy exterior, his protective instincts were always there when it counted. He wasn’t just trying to act tough for the sake of it. He was looking out for you both.

Phainon nodded, now a little more subdued, and followed behind you, staying close to Mydei.

As you ventured further down the hallway, you noticed the walls seemed to pulse with an unnatural rhythm, the shadows in the corners almost alive. The flickering lights overhead didn’t help the situation. Every time the light went out, your heartbeat sped up, your fingers twitching in anticipation of something horrific. But when the lights flickered back on, the hallway was exactly as it had been before.

"Okay, I’m officially creeped out," Phainon whispered. "This place is messed up. And I don’t mean the good kind of messed up, either."

"I know," you muttered, barely above a whisper. "This doesn’t feel right."

Mydei’s eyes flicked from side to side. "The air feels heavier the further we go. Stay alert."

Just then, the sound of footsteps echoed in the hall, and you all froze.

It was slow, deliberate. Footsteps that weren’t yours. They came closer, echoing off the walls like a reminder that you weren’t alone.

You clenched your fists, trying not to let your nerves show. "This isn’t funny anymore," you whispered, but Phainon, ever the optimist, was already spinning on his heel to face the noise. His usual grin returned.

"Oh, come on! It’s just a ghost trying to scare us. Big whoop." Phainon chuckled nervously, his voice faltering. "I bet it’s just some clumsy spirit tripping over its own ectoplasm."

But Mydei’s face had gone deathly pale. "No... That’s not it," he muttered, his eyes hardening as he reached for his weapon.

Before any of you could react, the door at the far end of the hallway slammed open, and a rush of cold air swept into the room. A shadowy figure stood in the doorway, its shape barely visible in the dim light. The faintest whisper could be heard, a haunting voice that filled the space.

"Leave... now..."

You shuddered, taking a step back as Phainon’s eyes widened. "That is not just some clumsy ghost," Phainon whispered under his breath.

Mydei pushed past you both, his muscles tensing as he slowly advanced toward the door. "Stay behind me," he ordered, his voice steady despite the growing tension in the air.

You, now fully aware of the danger surrounding you, didn’t question Mydei’s command. You stayed behind him, close to Phainon.

"Who are you?" Mydei called out into the dark doorway, his voice firm and demanding. "What do you want from us?"

There was a long pause.

Then the figure stepped forward, and the air turned even colder. You felt the icy fingers of fear crawl up your spine. The spirit was tall, its body translucent, its face hollow and shrouded in shadows. Its empty eyes locked onto you with a silent intensity.

The voice came again—soft, hollow, but unmistakable. "You shouldn’t have come here..."

You felt a chill ripple through your bones as the spirit’s hollow gaze turned toward you. Your throat tightened, and you instinctively stepped closer to Mydei.

Phainon, however, didn’t seem phased. He took a step forward and waved at the spirit. "Yo, are you the ghost that owns this creepy house? You know, it’s a little bit of a dump. Not to mention, super haunted. Pretty bad for business, don’t you think?" He gave a big grin, though there was a hint of nervousness in his voice.

The spirit’s gaze flickered to Phainon, and for a moment, it seemed as though the air itself had turned to ice.

"You—" it hissed, and its voice split into a chorus of whispers. "You disturb what is sacred."

Phainon’s grin faltered, but he stood his ground. "Yeah, yeah. I’m sure whatever you’re upset about could’ve been avoided if you had a better sense of hospitality. But we don’t mind the haunting, really. We’re used to spooks." He winked at you, trying to keep the mood light, even if it wasn’t working.

Mydei, on the other hand, stepped forward, his jaw clenched. "Enough." His voice was a commanding growl, filled with authority. "We’re leaving. You won’t stop us."

The spirit tilted its head, and with that, the walls of the hallway began to shift, the space warping like it was breathing. The temperature dropped further, and the whispers grew louder, more frantic.

"You will regret this..." The spirit's voice grew deeper, more menacing. "You will never leave..."

Mydei didn’t hesitate. With a swift motion, he turned, grabbing your arm and yanking you toward him. Phainon, following behind you, was grinning again, but it was a nervous grin this time.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let’s get out of here before it gets any more upset!" Phainon said, eyes scanning the walls as the house seemed to press in on you.

With Mydei leading the way, the three of you ran, navigating through the maze of corridors, trying to outrun the angry spirit and the curses it hurled at you.

As you and Mydei rushed through the hallway, Phainon was right on your heels, practically tripping over his own feet as his usual cheeriness turned into pure panic. "I don't like this! I really don’t like this!" he yelped, almost knocking into a lamp as he scrambled to keep up with you both. "Why do we always end up in these situations? Why are we the ones getting chased by ghosts?!"

You shot him a glance, still trying to focus on not getting actually murdered, but Phainon’s wide-eyed expression was enough to break your concentration. “Seriously, Phainon? Right now?”

“I don’t know what’s happening!” Phainon screeched, his voice a little higher than normal, making you wonder how he was still managing to hold it together in some odd, comical way. "The ghost’s pissed! And now it’s making everything all… spooky!!"

“I swear, I’m going to start screaming,” you muttered, your voice getting shaky as the air around you grew colder. The hallway seemed to stretch on forever, and the whispers—oh god—the whispers were getting louder. You swore you could almost hear them saying your name.

Phainon, not helping in the slightest, suddenly screeched, "Oh my god, it’s behind us! It’s right there!!" He whipped around dramatically, his hands flailing in the air as though he could somehow ward off the spirit by sheer panic.

It wasn’t behind you. It wasn’t anywhere close.

"Mydei!" Phainon wailed, grabbing his arm dramatically. "Save meeee!"

Mydei barely even flinched, his sharp golden eyes scanning their surroundings with that ever-present air of annoyance, but underneath it, you could see him trying not to chuckle. "Phainon, stop acting like a child," he growled, not missing a beat. “The ghost's not going to catch us if you keep screaming like a little girl.”

"Oh, so we’re doing the ‘who’s the toughest’ thing now, huh?!" Phainon’s voice cracked on the last word, making the tension in the air almost unbearable. "You just wait, my frightened little heart can’t take much more! I'm not cut out for this!" He clutched his chest, looking like he was going to have a heart attack right there. "Just let me live!!"

Mydei, sighing heavily, muttered, “You’re such a pain.”

Before you could stop yourself, you let out a short, nervous laugh. "Yeah, I think we’ve all been a little too dramatic here…"

As you tried to ignore the rising sense of dread in your chest, the spirit’s eerie whispers grew louder. Phainon’s eyes widened and suddenly, without warning, he grabbed your arm and pulled you into a perfectly timed scream of sheer terror as the shadows seemed to swirl around you.

“IT’S COMING FOR US!!!”

“Phainon, stop!” you hissed, tugging your arm away as he clung to you like a frightened koala, causing you to stumble forward.

“Oh no!” Phainon gasped, looking around wildly. “The ghost is too strong for us!!”

“No, Phainon!” you groaned, holding back another burst of laughter. “The ghost isn’t real, it’s just some shadowy figure trying to scare us!”

"Trying to scare us?! It's succeeding!" he practically screamed, his voice cracking in a most undignified way. He was full on panicking now, his hands scrambling for anything to grab onto. “It’s getting closer! Do you feel that?! The temperature is dropping!”

“I think the temperature’s been dropping since we got in here,” Mydei said with a bored expression, walking ahead, clearly done with Phainon’s theatrics.

“Stop being so calm!” Phainon wailed, "How can you be calm in this haunted house?!" His hand shot out, grabbing a nearby table for dear life. “My life is flashing before my eyes!!”

“Dramatic much?” you said, trying not to laugh at his antics. "Calm down, I don’t think it’s—"

Suddenly, the lights went out.

The three of you froze in place, the only sound the soft thrum of your own heartbeat.

And then… the whispering returned. Louder. Closer.

“Oh, hell no,” Phainon squeaked, his voice going up an octave higher. "I knew it! I knew it was going to—"

“Phainon, for the love of god, stop screaming,” Mydei growled, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice now, his arms crossed. "You’re more of a nuisance than the actual ghost."

“Oh, shut up,” Phainon whined, now clinging to your side like a human shield. "We’re all going to die here. I just know it!"

“Mydei, is it actually behind us now?” you whispered, feeling a chill creep down your spine as you glanced over your shoulder.

“No,” Mydei answered nonchalantly, “But it’s definitely getting closer.”

You turned back around to see Phainon’s face, which had somehow turned a shade paler than usual.

The whispers grew louder again. And then—

A chair suddenly flipped over behind you with a loud crash, causing all three of you to freeze. Phainon was the first to scream, and this time, his scream was not a small, panicked shout—it was a full-on, high-pitched scream that could rival the most frightened cat.

“WAAAAH!” Phainon shrieked, literally jumping behind you and clinging to Mydei’s back like some kind of terrified parasite.

"Mydei!!" you shouted, barely able to contain your own laughter as you backed up. "Do something! Phainon’s gonna cause a scene."

“I am the scene!” Phainon continued, barely making any sense as he clung to Mydei like he was some kind of lifeline. "I’ll scream all the way to the afterlife if I have to, but I am NOT dealing with this haunted disaster!"

“Will you shut up?” Mydei grumbled, clearly losing his patience.

But it was too late.

A shadow suddenly shot out from the corner, and in one fluid motion, a cold hand clasped around your wrist, making you yelp and pull away.

"Okay, okay!! I’m out! I’m OUT!" Phainon screamed at the top of his lungs, finally snapping into full-on survival mode, and pulling you both toward the door. “THIS WAS A MISTAKE! I’M NEVER GOING INTO A HAUNTED HOUSE AGAIN!!”

With Phainon dragging you by the arm, Mydei let out a sharp huff, but even he couldn’t hide the small smirk forming at the corners of his lips as he followed along.

“Let’s just go before he burns down the whole damn house,” Mydei muttered under his breath.

And somehow, you all managed to escape… barely.

SORRY ITS SHORT IM WORKING ON AN UNBIELVABLY LONG PHAINON FIC RN!! IF YOU ALL WANT TO BE TAGGED IN THE FIC, PLEASE DM ABT AND UH COMMENT, ILL TAG YOU ALL :3

[sturnsblogs]

Petty revenge PT.2

Nerd!Chris X Mean!Girl!Reader

—

Chris wasn’t talking to you.

And you noticed.

You tried. When you try, you really do try.

You had sent him apology messages the night of the party, trying to explain, trying to fix things.

— “Chris, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. You know I didn’t.”

— “Baby, please talk to me.”

— “I feel horrible, I swear I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

— “I love you. You know that, right?”

And all you got in return?

— “K.”

— “It’s fine.”

— “I’m busy.”

— “Whatever.”

Chris had never been like this with you before.

He was never cold. Never distant. Never the type to brush you off, to act like you didn’t matter.

But now?

Now, he barely gave you anything.

At first, you told yourself he was just being petty. That he was milking the situation, trying to make you suffer a little before he inevitably forgave you like he always did.

So you tried harder.

You showed up at his apartment with his favorite snacks, smiling at him like nothing was wrong, pressing kisses to his cheek, to his jaw, whispering, “Chris, baby, come on… don’t be like this.”

He barely reacted.

You cuddled into him when you saw him in person, running your hands over his chest, tracing shapes into his skin, whispering, “I’m sorry, baby. I swear I didn’t mean it.”

He hummed. That was it.

A simple, indifferent hum—like your words meant nothing to him.

You kissed him, desperate for something, for any sign that he was warming up to you again.

But when your lips met his?

He barely kissed back.

It wasn’t real.

It wasn’t him.

And when you tried to pull him closer, when you tried to deepen it, he pulled away.

You blinked, brows furrowing. “Why won’t you kiss me?”

Chris exhaled, leaning back, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, Y/N. Maybe because last time I cared about something, you laughed in my face?”

Your heart dropped.

“Chris, I didn’t—”

He shook his head. “Can we not? I don’t wanna talk about this.”

You swallowed, trying to push back the tightness in your throat. “I just— I just wanna fix this.”

Chris’s jaw clenched. “Yeah? Well, some things don’t get fixed that fast.”

And Then He Started Hanging Out With Lauren.

You tried everything.

You sent sweet texts. You showed up at his place. You did anything you could think of to remind him that you loved him.

But Chris?

Chris was petty.

And his latest form of pettiness came in the shape of a study session with Lauren.

The same Lauren from his old study group. The same Lauren whose name had popped up on his phone once before, sparking the whole argument about whether he liked smart girls more than you.

You had made plans to see him. He was supposed to come over.

But then, an hour before he was supposed to show up—

— “Can’t come over. Gonna study with Lauren instead.”

Your stomach twisted.

You stared at the message for a long moment, fingers hovering over the keyboard before you finally responded.

— “What?”

— “Why?”

Chris took his time replying.

— “Because I want to.”

That was it.

No excuse. No explanation. Just a simple, dismissive because I want to.

And suddenly, it all made sense.

Chris wasn’t doing this because he needed to study.

He was doing it because he knew it would piss you off.

Because he wanted you to feel what he felt.

Because this was the same toxic shit you pulled on him whenever he messed up.

And the worst part?

It was working.

And He Didn’t Stop There.

A few days later, when you finally got him to come over, he was different.

Not just cold—cocky.

You curled up beside him, desperate for any sort of affection, but he barely acknowledged it, scrolling through his phone with a smug little smirk.

You glanced at the screen. Lauren’s name.

Your stomach twisted.

Chris noticed.

And then?

He smirked.

“She’s actually really sweet, you know,” he murmured, still typing.

You stiffened. “What?”

Chris shrugged, finally setting his phone down. “Lauren.” He stretched his arms behind his head, letting out a small sigh. “She’s just… nice.”

Your jaw clenched. “Chris.”

“I mean, she actually listens when I talk,” he continued, completely ignoring your tone. “Doesn’t interrupt me or change the subject.” He tilted his head slightly, a slow smirk forming. “You know, sometimes I think you zone out when I talk about stuff I care about.”

Your stomach churned.

Chris chuckled. “Lauren doesn’t do that.”

You swallowed hard. “Chris, stop.”

He hummed, pretending to think. “She also doesn’t get annoyed when I get excited about something.” He turned to you, raising a brow. “Do you know how many times you’ve rolled your eyes at me when I try to explain something? How many times you’ve sighed like you couldn’t be bothered to care?”

You looked away. “I didn’t—”

“Lauren likes the things I talk about,” he cut in. “She actually wants to hear them. She doesn’t just tolerate them.”

Your breath hitched.

“She’s funny, too,” he added, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Not in a mean way. Not in a hurtful way. Just… naturally.” He let out a soft chuckle. “She laughs at my jokes.”

Your chest tightened. “Chris, I—”

“And she actually compliments me,” he continued like you hadn’t spoken. “You don’t do that a lot, you know.”

Your eyes burned.

Chris just smiled.

And then, just when you thought he was done—

He said it.

“Maybe I should’ve been with someone like that instead.”

The air was ripped from your lungs.

Your throat closed.

Chris didn’t take it back.

He didn’t soften. Didn’t reach for you. Didn’t say he didn’t mean it.

He just sat there, arms crossed, watching you fall apart.

And then—

He fucking smirked.

Because for the first time?

He was making you feel small.

—

A/N- should he forgive her next chapter?

My beautiful babies- @blushsturns @starrii-sturns @izzylovesmatt @chrisslut04 @slvtme0utt @oopsiedaisydeer @csturnioloswifey @just-a-girl-1 @sturdyyolo @sturnslvtt @sturnbows @sturniolosrtewsexy @chriss-slutt @franticroads @thecrawlys @ribbonlovergirl l @freshlyinlovewchris @whore4chris @matts-girlfriend @ariana3lovesu @cass-sturn @sturns-mermaid @sunrisemill

[minyoongisnewthing]

Han river lullaby chapter two | myg

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, exs to lovers, eventual smut, idol!au, co parents, second chance romance

Chapter two content warning: mention of corporate manipulation/control, emotional confrontation, mild swearing

word count: 5.6k approximately

Authors notes: thank you sincerely for the love and support you have shown this story so far it has meant so much to me, it was a much needed confidence boost. Apologies to my boy Namjoon you don’t get paid enough to be readers and Yoongi’s therapists. Please feel free to drop any feedback in the comments

A few days later marked the start of your much-needed week long break after working twelve grueling days in a row. 

You woke up with Han wrapped around your arm, his little body sleeping and warm against yours as he snored softly. 

The early morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow across his features. 

Smiling, you pressed a soft kiss to his forehead before carefully slipping out of bed, making sure not to wake him.

Downstairs, you set to work making pancakes, knowing that the scent would lure him down in minutes. 

The familiar routine helped calm your nerves about what you planned to do today - the conversation you could no longer put off. 

Sure enough, just as you plated the first stack, you heard the telltale sound of small feet padding across the floor.

"Morning, bubba," you greeted him with a smile, turning just in time to see him rubbing sleep from his eyes, his hair an adorable mess of soft curls that reminded you so much of Yoongi's bed head.

"Morning," he mumbled back, still groggy but clearly intrigued by breakfast. You lifted him up and placed him in his chair before setting a small plate of cut-up pancakes in front of him.

"What do you want to do today? Before you go to auntie Mya’s house?" you asked as you poured some syrup over his food, trying to keep your voice steady despite the anxiety churning in your stomach.

Han barely took a moment to think before his face lit up. "Can we go to the park!" he exclaimed, his excitement muffled by a mouthful of pancake.

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Chew your food, Han," you reminded gently, wiping syrup off his chin. 

The simple gesture made your heart clench - how many moments like this had Yoongi missed?

"Sorry," he said, swallowing quickly before grinning at you - that gummy smile so like his father's it almost took your breath away.

The idea of the park sounded good, a chance to give Han one last carefree morning before everything changed. 

After breakfast, you both bundled up in coats and beanies and set off down the street. Han immediately took off running the moment you arrived, joining a few other kids in the playground. 

You settled onto a bench, watching him with a fond smile that didn't quite mask the weight in your chest. Despite the warmth in your heart at seeing your son so happy, a familiar guilt pressed down on you. 

You knew what you had to do. What you'd promised yourself - and Namjoon - you would do today. No more waiting, no more stalling.

Pulling out your phone, you opened your chat with Yoongi before you could talk yourself out of it.

Y/N: Are you resting like the doctor ordered?

You hit send, your heart hammering against your ribs.

Yoongi: Don't worry, Hobi and Namjoon made sure I am. Why the check-up? Don't believe I'd follow orders?

You scoffed lightly, shaking your head before replying.

Y/N: Was thinking of stopping by, if you're up for a visit?

A few moments passed, each second stretching like an eternity as you watched the typing bubble appear and disappear, the reappear only to disappear again, finally.

Yoongi: What, you visit all your patients after hours?

Y/N: Only the stubborn ones who need extra monitoring.

Yoongi: I'm wounded. But yeah, I'm at home with Namjoon, still being good and resting like ordered.

Y/N: Perfect, do you actually mind if I stop by?

Yoongi: [Address] - Hannam-dong. Door code: 0923

You stared at the screen, barely believing it. He was letting you in - literally and figuratively - and you were about to change everything.

That's how you found yourself standing in front of Yoongi's apartment after dropping Han off with Mya, your favorite nurse and close friend. Your palms were sweating as you tried to work up the courage to knock, the weight of Han's excited "Bye, Eomma!" still echoing in your ears. 

This was it. You were about to lay everything out, every painful truth, and you had no idea how he would react. Taking a deep breath, you finally knocked.

A moment later, the door opened, revealing Namjoon. His blonde hair was slightly messy, like he'd been running his hands through it while working - a habit he'd never broken. 

His brows furrowed in quiet surprise as he took in the sight of you standing there, though you could see in his deep brown eyes he'd been expecting this. He leaned against the doorframe, his tall frame somehow both imposing and gentle at once.

"You're finally doing this?" he asked, voice careful, his dimples appearing briefly despite the seriousness of the moment.

You nodded, fingers twisting together nervously. "Yeah. You're right, for both of them, I have to."

Namjoon studied you for a second before stepping aside. "He's upstairs in his room. Do you want me to stay?"

You swallowed, nodding hard. "Please, Joon. I feel like I'm about to have a heart attack."

He gave you a reassuring nod. "You can do this, Y/N. I'll be here, for both of you."

You followed him through the apartment, the space as calm and minimalistic as you'd imagined Yoongi's home would be. The walls were lined with awards and platinum records, reminders of everything he'd achieved.

Namjoon led you to the bedroom door before pausing.

"I'll be close," he said softly before stepping back.

Gathering every ounce of courage you had left, you knocked.

“Yeah?” came Yoongi’s voice from inside.

Slowly, you pushed the door open and poked your head in. He was sitting up in bed, lounging comfortably in a dark shirt and grey sweatpants, the ever-present silver chain around his neck.

His dark hair falling over his forehead in careless waves. His feline eyes met yours the moment you stepped inside, sharpening with something unreadable—intense, unwavering, and just a little too knowing.

"Hey, Yoongi," you said hesitantly, the words barely above a whisper.

His expression softened—just a little. "Hey yourself." But even as he said it, you could see it in his gaze: curiosity, the ghost of warmth… but most of all, confusion.

You moved toward him, your hands twisting together as you sat at the edge of his bed. The room felt too quiet, the air too thick with something unspoken. Your stomach churned, the weight of what you were about to say pressing heavily against your ribs.

"Look, Yoongi… we need to talk."

The small, familiar smile on his lips faltered. His eyes sharpened with cautious tension, his body going still. "Okay…."

You inhaled deeply, trying to steady yourself, but nothing could have prepared you for this moment. Your fingers found the edge of his blanket, needing something to ground you.

"Just… just know that I never wanted to hurt you."

His shoulders stiffened, his jaw tightening. "Y/N." His voice was lower now, edged with something dangerous. "What's going on?"

Your fingers clenched together, nails biting into your skin. There was no easy way to say it.

"Around a month after I left, I… I found out I was pregnant."

Yoongi stilled.

The breath he'd been about to take caught in his throat, his body going rigid as if you had physically struck him. 

The room suddenly felt smaller, suffocating. You saw it—the moment your words reached him, the precise second his world cracked open.

You forced yourself to keep going.

"I gave birth to a little boy," you whispered, your voice unsteady. "His name is Han and… and, fuck, Yoongi, he has your smile. Your eyes. Even your damn nose."

Silence. A silence heavier than anything you'd ever known stretched between you.

Yoongi’s hands, which had been resting in his lap, curled into fists over the blanket, his knuckles white. The veins along the backs of his hands stood out, a stark contrast against the smooth, pale skin. His long, slender fingers twitched slightly, as if resisting the urge to move. 

His breathing was uneven, like he was struggling to remember how. His voice, when it finally came, was barely a whisper.

"I have a son?"

It was the break in his voice that shattered something inside you.

Your throat burned as you nodded. "Yes."

He exhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling with an unsteady breath. He dragged a trembling hand through his dark hair, gripping it tightly like he was holding himself together by sheer force. 

When he finally looked at you, his gaze was dark, unreadable—but the hurt in them was unmistakable.

"You—" His voice wavered, raw with disbelief. "You kept my son from me?"

You swallowed hard, guilt clawing at your ribs. "I thought I was doing the best thing for both of us—"

"The best thing?" His voice cut through yours like a blade, sharp and filled with something frighteningly close to betrayal. "For both of us?"

You flinched, gripping the edge of the bed as the weight of his anger crashed into you.

"I know you're angry—"

"Damn fucking right I'm angry." His voice shook under the weight of his emotions. His hands pressed against his forehead as he exhaled harshly. He shook his head, still trying to process. When he looked at you again, there was something raw, something broken in his expression.

"You kept my son from me."

It wasn't a question. It wasn't even an accusation—it was a wound laid bare.

You flinched but refused to look away. "I thought I was doing what was best—"

"So you said," his voice rose, something sharp laced within it. "But for who, Y/N? For me? For you? Because it sure as hell wasn't what was best for him."

Your breath caught, guilt twisting like a knife in your ribs. "I—"

He cut in, his tone almost hollow. "I reconciled with the fact I was the only one who lost something when we walked away." His eyes burned into yours, dark and unreadable. "But the whole time, you had my son."

His voice cracked on the last word, and it shattered something inside you.

"Yoongi…" You swallowed hard, trying to find steady ground, but there was none. "I wanted to tell you. I swear, I did. But after everything, I—"

"You what?" he demanded, leaning forward. "You decided for me? You thought I didn't deserve to know?"

You let out a shaky breath, eyes stinging. "You left first."

Yoongi stilled.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The weight of those three words settled between you like an open wound, bleeding and raw.

And then he laughed—a hollow, bitter sound that sent a chill down your spine.

"So that's what this is," he muttered, shaking his head. "Punishment."

Your heart clenched. "That's not—"

"You wanted me to hurt like you did," he said, voice dropping into something quieter, dangerous. "Well, congratulations, Y/N. You fucking achieved it didn’t you."

His words knocked the breath out of you.

"Do you think it was easy for me?" Your voice cracked through the room, your own anger rising like a flame catching air. "Do you think I didn't hurt too? That I didn't spend nights staring at my phone, wanting to call you, to tell you? To break down and beg you to come see me."

Yoongi’s eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by the force of your words. The dark irises, usually guarded and unreadable, flickered with something unspoken, their depth momentarily exposed. 

A faint crease formed between his brows, his smooth, pale skin taut with tension. His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words, the muscles in his jaw tightened, a subtle but telling sign of restraint.

"You stopped reaching out first," you continued, your voice thick with pain and accusation. "You never truly fought for us, Yoongi. You just—let go. So I thought that meant I had to let go too."

Yoongi's jaw clenched, his hands curling tighter at his sides. His laugh was sharp, disbelieving, barely contained between clenched teeth. 

"It wasn't that simple, Y/N," he bit out. "The company—their rules—I couldn't. Not if I wanted to keep my career, to keep you safe!." 

His voice dropped lower, rougher. "I thought…" 

His voice faltered, and for the first time, you saw it. Regret. The weight of what he'd done too. The hurt he didn’t even consider he’d caused. 

"I thought letting you go was the best thing I could do for you. To protect you."

You stared at him, realization washing over you like ice water. The silence. The distance. It hadn't been indifference. It had been sacrifice. But that didn't make it hurt any less.

You let out a harsh, bitter laugh. "The fucking company," you spat. "That's rich. Enjoying the view from that fucking high horse, Min?" The visceral hurt ripped open, the years of heartache spilling out like poison in your veins. 

"You decided that for me. Just like I decided for you. You didn't even give me a choice, Yoongi. You just walked away."

His nostrils flared, his breath unsteady. "My view's just the same as yours, on your own high horse, sweetheart." He hissed the old term of endearment, sounding like venom on his lips.

"You did the same fucking thing, didn't you?" His voice was low, dangerous now. "You took my son from me. His first cries, his first steps, his first fucking words!"

Your vision blurred with unshed tears.

"You should have told me," he snapped, his voice breaking slightly on the words. "You should have fucking told me."

Your chin trembled, the fight leaving you, making way for the only emotion you had left: exhaustion. 

"You're right, Yoongi. I can't change my choice, I wish I could. But maybe when we're both less heated, you'll understand why I did, help me understand your choices now." Your tears begin to slide down your cheek.

Yoongi's expression cracked, something devastated flickering in his eyes. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his voice raw when he finally spoke.

"I was scared, Y/N," he admitted, the confession shaking. "Just like you were. Scared of losing everything I'd worked for. Scared of losing you."

"Fucking terrified of the pressure we were suddenly under, the conditions we had to live in." His eyes shone with unshed tears.

"You don't think I thought about you every day?" His voice rose slightly, sounding on the edge of mania. 

"Do you know how many times I got caught sneaking off just to try and call you? How many nights I wanted to just throw it all away and come see you?" 

His breathing turned ragged. "Do you have any fucking idea how much it took for me to let you walk out of that apartment that morning? To smile at you like I was okay?"

He took a deep shuddering breath, trying to recenter himself. "It took everything in me not to chase after you, not to beg you to stay."

The memory of that morning flooded your mind, as vivid as if it were yesterday...

The early morning light painted Yoongi's small apartment in soft golden hues, making everything feel dreamlike and fragile. 

Your bags sat by the door - simple things that somehow held the weight of your entire world shifting.

In these last precious moments before your taxi arrived, you stood wrapped in each other's arms, whispering promises, promises of making the distance work, of visits when time allowed, into the quiet morning air.

"You sure you don't want me to drop you at the airport?" Yoongi murmured into your hair, his arms tightening around you as if trying to memorize how you felt against him.

"I'm sure, Yoon," you managed a smile, trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere. "You'll be late for dance practice, and I'm not having Hobi mad at me because your ass is late."

His chest rumbled with a soft chuckle, but it held a note of something fragile, something breaking. You snuggled closer, breathing in his familiar scent - coffee and cologne and something uniquely Yoongi that had become home to you.

"I'll call you every chance I can, okay?" he promised, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead.

"I know," you whispered, looking up to meet his gaze. The love and fear you saw there mirrored your own.

You shared one final, devastating kiss before your phone buzzed - your taxi was here.

Your breath caught in your throat as the memory faded, bringing you back to the present moment.

"But in the end..." His voice dropped to a whisper, heavy with years of regret. "I lost you anyway."

Tears burned at your eyes.

"I didn't come here to fight with you, Yoon," you finally admitted, voice tired and aching. "We both fucked up. We both made mistakes. And now here we are. Hurt. Angry. And too late."

Yoongi's gaze met yours, something shattered in the way he looked at you.

"Yeah," he whispered, his voice hollow. "Too late."

He nodded slowly, his gaze dropping to the floor. His voice trembled when he finally asked, "Can I meet him?"

Your chest clenched painfully.

"Of course you can," you replied instantly, your voice soft, careful. "Would... would you like to see a photo of him now?"

He nodded, and with trembling fingers, you reached for your phone. You pulled up a photo taken just that morning—Han in the park, beaming, his dark eyes crinkling just like Yoongi's when he laughed.

Yoongi took the phone from you carefully, as if afraid the moment might shatter in his hands. He stared at the screen, and you watched as something in him completely unraveled.

"Fuck," he whispered, his voice breaking.

His pale fingers hovered over the screen, tracing Han's face without touching it, his expression torn between awe and devastation.

"Mother Nature really did one hell of a copy-paste job on him, didn't she?"

Despite everything, a choked laugh escaped you.

Yoongi's eyes flickered back up to you, searching, uncertain. "Y/N..." His voice was quieter now, filled with something fragile. "I would've made it work."

You closed your eyes briefly, exhaling shakily.

Finally, he exhaled slowly. "I... I need to see him, to know him beyond just a picture," he said, determination laced with vulnerability.

"I have the next few days free," you say gently, watching Yoongi carefully. "I can bring him over whenever you're ready."

There's a beat of silence before you add, "Also, that bloody chain—let me fix it. It's annoying me."

Yoongi lets out an unexpected laugh, the warm sound catching you off guard. You raise an eyebrow at him in question.

"You never could keep your hands off me. Don't lie," he quips, a smirk tugging at his lips.

The familiarity of his teasing makes something in your chest loosen. It doesn't erase the pain of the past, but it's something—something small, something hopeful.

"Fuck off," you chuckle, shaking your head as you step closer, fingers carefully adjusting it to sit properly against his shirt. He stays still, letting you work, his eyes watching you with something unreadable.

As you step away again, the conversation drifts to Han—his little quirks, the way he scrunches his nose when he's thinking, his stubborn streak that's so clearly inherited from both of you.

"He's so smart," you say with a proud smile, your heart swelling just talking about him. "He loves music already - always dancing and humming little tunes he makes up."

Yoongi hums, glancing down at the photo of Han still open on your phone. "Of course he’s smart. He has Min DNA after all." he says matter-of-factly.

You barely contain the scoff that leaves you, but there's no real annoyance—just an old, familiar fondness creeping in.

"He's obsessed with the piano at my friend's house," you continue softly. "Can't keep him away from it. And he has this habit of staying up late, no matter what I do - just like someone else I know."

Yoongi's expression softens, a mix of pride and pain crossing his features. "What else?" he asks, shuffling forward towards you, voice barely above a whisper, like he's trying to drink in every detail.

"He's incredibly stubborn when he wants to be. Especially when he’s over tired," you say with a small laugh. "But he's also so gentle. So caring. He notices when anyone's sad and tries to make them feel better. Just yesterday, he gave his favorite toy to a crying kid at the park."

You watch as Yoongi absorbs each detail, his fingers still hovering over the photo on your phone. "Does he..." he hesitates, swallowing hard. "Does he ever ask about me?"

Your heart clenches. "Yeah, he does. More and more, He sees other kids with their parents and gets curious. I've told him… that while his appa loves him very much, grown-ups sometimes have complicated situations."

Yoongi's breath catches, and he nods slowly, processing. 

After you agree to bring Han by tomorrow, you tell Yoongi you need to go pick him up. He nods, still looking lost in thought, but there's a softness in his gaze that wasn't there before.

As you step into the lounge, you find Namjoon sitting on the couch, book in hand. He looks up as you enter, a small smirk forming.

"I got worried for a moment there when all the yelling stopped," he teases, dimples on full display.

You scoff but smile back. "We called a temporary truce."

"Progress," he nods approvingly.

"We have organised for me to bring Han by tomorrow," you tell him. "If you wanna be here to supervise the visit." You say it lightly, but there's an underlying truth to it—you don't know how emotional tomorrow will be.

Namjoon closes his book and stretches. "I'll be here," he assures you, voice steady.

Leaning against the wall, you sigh. "How did we get here, Joon?" you whisper, voice barely audible over the soft hum of the city below. "How did we let it get this bad?"

Namjoon sighs, putting the book down beside him. "You mean you and Yoongi?"

You nod, your fingers gripping your knees. "We loved each other." Your voice cracks on the last word, and you shake your head as if trying to make sense of it.

"So how the hell did we end up as two people who just walked away? Who let everything go and ended up like... this—with so much pain and miscommunication between us?"

Namjoon is quiet for a long moment. Then he sighs.

"Because it was never just you two," he murmurs.

You frown, looking at him. "What do you mean?"

Namjoon exhaled through his nose, leaning back against the chair. His expression was unreadable, but there was something haunted in his eyes.

"The company, it wasn't just an excuse, Y/N," he said. "You knew they had rules about dating, but you don't know the extent of it. The control, the manipulation—it wasn't just a policy. It was a constant, looming, very real threat."

You swallowed, uneasy. "I knew it was strict, but..."

Namjoon let out a humorless chuckle. "Strict? Y/N, we used to have random phone checks. Random room checks. Managers would come in, take our devices, search our belongings all without warning, and comb through everything. Texts, call logs, even our search history."

He shook his head, blonde hair falling into his eyes as he continued.

"If they found anything suspicious, anything that hinted at a relationship, it wasn't just a scolding—it was a warning. And that's the tip of the iceberg honestly."

Your stomach turned. You knew about the company's grip, but hearing the details made your blood run cold.

"They used to tell us, over and over, that everything we had could be taken away in an instant. Our careers, our reputations. All of it, gone." 

Namjoon glanced at you, his gaze heavy. "And Yoongi? He was already seen as the difficult one. The cold one, the one most likely to push back against that control."

"If they had even a hint of something that could be spun as 'unprofessional'—especially a relationship—he knew they wouldn't hesitate to make an example out of him."

You blinked rapidly, your chest tightening. "They really had that much control over everything?"

Namjoon's lips pressed into a thin line. "You have no idea." He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "We weren't just scared of losing our jobs, Y/N. We were scared of losing everything. They had us believing that if we stepped out of line, we'd be ripped apart—no second chances."

You swallowed hard, trying to process it all. "He told me it was because he was afraid?"

Namjoon nodded. "Not just afraid. Convinced. Convinced that staying with you would ruin you both. And Yoongi..." He hesitated before continuing, voice softer now. 

"He's always been the type to shoulder things alone. To suffer in silence if he thinks it'll protect the people he loves."

Your throat tightened. "He thought leaving me was protecting me. Just like I was protecting him."

Namjoon's expression was pained. "Yeah."

You exhaled shakily, rubbing your temples. "I hate that I understand it. I hate that I can see why he did it, why I did what I did, and it still doesn't make any of this hurt any less."

Namjoon looked at you, his eyes showing wisdom beyond his years. "Because understanding the past doesn't erase the damage it left behind. You both made choices based on fear. And now, you're left with the consequences."

Tears burned at the back of your eyes, and you laughed bitterly. "So what do we do now, Joon?"

He was quiet for a moment, then said, "That's up to you and Yoongi.”

You leaned against the wall, arms crossed, your mind spinning with everything Namjoon had just told you. The weight of it pressed down on your chest—everything Yoongi had gone through, the suffocating grip they had on him. On all of them.

Namjoon sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "You wanna know how bad it got?"

You looked at him warily. "I think I already do."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "You don't." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His voice was quieter now, heavy with something distant, something painful.

"There was one time—about two months after you left—when Yoongi got caught trying to contact you, after he had already gotten in shit for doing it the times before."

Your breath hitched. "What?"

Namjoon nodded. "It was after a long schedule, late as hell. We were back at the dorm, overworked and beyond hungry, I walked past his room, saw the light on under his door. I didn't think much of it at first—until I heard his voice."

You swallowed hard. "He was calling me?"

Namjoon gave you a pointed look. "Trying to." 

He exhaled. "I don't know what happened. Maybe one of the managers was already suspicious, maybe they were just being extra paranoid that night. Either way, someone must've been watching him, because before he could even get through, the door slammed open."

Your stomach twisted.

"They took his phone. Took all our phones, actually, under the excuse of a 'security check.' But they already knew. They already saw."

You couldn't breathe. "What did they do?"

Namjoon hesitated, then said, "They pulled him into a meeting the next day. I don't know exactly what was said, but when he came back, he looked..." 

He trailed off, jaw tightening. "Defeated. Like they'd ripped something out of him. He barely spoke for days after that. Just threw himself into work, into writing. It was like he was trying to drown himself in anything that wasn't you."

Your hands trembled as you hugged yourself, nausea creeping into your throat.

"They threatened him, didn't they?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Namjoon nodded slowly. "Probably, with everything in their arsenal designed to hurt him."

A sharp sob threatened to rise in your chest, but you forced it down, biting the inside of your cheek.

You swallowed past the lump in your throat, staring down at your hands as Namjoon's words settled deep into your chest, heavy and unshakable.

A memory surfaced, unbidden.

"I remember that day," you murmured, voice distant. "I was in the middle of a finals exam. My phone was on silent, stuffed in my bag. When I finished, I checked and saw a few missed calls from him. I thought it was my shot to tell him about Han, about how much I missed him. I thought if he's finally got time after a few weeks, I'll take it!"

Namjoon watched you carefully, his expression unreadable.

"I called back," you whispered, feeling the ache of that moment as if it had just happened. "But he didn't answer." You let out a shaky breath. "I tried again. And again. But nothing."

You lifted your gaze to Namjoon, your eyes stinging. "Now I guess I know why."

His face softened with something like understanding, but he said nothing.

That night, you had sat on the edge of your bed, gripping your phone, staring at Yoongi's name on the screen, wondering what had changed. Wondering why, after a few weeks of silence, he had reached out—only to disappear again. 

You had told yourself it didn't matter. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe he had come to his senses and realized there was nothing left to say. That the relationship had run its natural course.

But now...

Now you know the truth. Yoongi had tried, tried more than you knew. And they had taken that from him. From both of you.

You sucked in a deep breath, forcing yourself to keep it together, but Namjoon's next words cut through to your heart.

"You spent all this time thinking he didn't care enough," he said quietly. "And he spent all this time thinking he had no choice but to let you go."

A bitter laugh bubbled up in your throat, thick with disbelief and regret. "What a fucking mess we made, huh."

Namjoon gave you a wry, knowing look. "Yeah. But that doesn't mean you can't fix it."

Your breath came out unsteady. "Why didn't he ever tell me?"

Namjoon gave you a small, sad smile. "Because he didn't want you to know what he went through. He didn't want you to carry that weight."

Tears blurred your vision.

"I thought he just gave up on me," you admitted, voice breaking.

Namjoon shook his head. "Yoongi never gave up on you, Y/N. He just didn't know how to hold on without hurting you."

You wiped at your eyes quickly, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. "And now? Now that we've both hurt each other?"

Namjoon sighed, leaning back against the couch. "That's the thing about love, isn't it? It's not about never hurting each other. It's about what you do after."

Silence settled between you, thick with unspoken words.

Finally, you whispered, "I don't know how to fix this, Joon."

He gave you a small smile. "You don't have to figure it all out right now." His gaze was steady, reassuring. "Just start with tomorrow. Start with being good co-parents to Han."

Tomorrow. When Yoongi would meet his son for the first time.

You exhaled shakily, nodding. "Yeah. Tomorrow."

Later that night, after dinner and a bath, you sit Han on your lap, brushing a hand through his soft hair. The weight of him against you feels both comforting and terrifying, knowing how much his world is about to change.

"Han, baby," you say gently, drawing his attention. "Remember when you told Eomma you thought about your appa?"

He nods, big, curious eyes watching you, looking up at you with such innocent trust.

"How would you like to meet him tomorrow?"

There's a beat of silence as his little brain processes your words. Then, his eyes go wide with excitement.

"Yes, please!" he exclaims, bouncing slightly in your lap. "Really, Eomma? Really?"

Your heart swells, relief washing over you. If there was ever a sign that you were making the right decision, this was it. You hug Han close, kissing his temple.

"Okay, baby," you whisper, holding him just a little tighter. "Tomorrow, you'll meet your appa."

That night, as you watch Han sleep, your mind drifts to another lazy night, years ago...

The soft strumming of guitar strings filled your small apartment, mixing with the soft moonlight streaming through the windows. You were sprawled across your couch, textbooks scattered around you, but your attention kept drifting to Yoongi.

He sat cross-legged on the floor, an old guitar in his lap, dark hair falling into his eyes as he worked through a melody. He was wearing one of his oversized hoodies, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, that silver chain glinting at his neck.

"You're staring again," he murmured without looking up, a smirk playing at his lips.

"Am not," you protested, even as you continued watching his fingers move across the strings. "I'm studying."

"Oh yeah?" He glanced up then, eyes twinkling. "What chapter are you on?"

The memory fades as you brush Han's hair from his forehead, seeing so much of Yoongi in his peaceful sleeping face. Tomorrow would change everything for him, but looking at your son now, you know it's worth whatever pain might come.

Because Han deserves to know his father. And Yoongi deserves to know his son.

As you drift off to sleep, you can almost hear the echo of that old guitar, mixing with the sound of your son's steady breathing, creating a melody of what was and what could be.

Tomorrow would be the beginning of something new—something scary and uncertain, but necessary. For all of you.

tag list: @busanbby-jjk @jajabro @kam9404 @yoongiiuu93 @julseka07 @tea4sykes @marihoneywk @maryhopemei @sanarin @misschelliejeon @boraluv @wobblewobble822 @amarawayne, @hyuninslutbbgirl , @Granataepfelchen

[wandaspup]

his loss

– pairing | wanda x kid/daughter reader

– synopsis | you're wandas kid/daughter from a previous relationship. today you can't help but wonder why you weren't enough for your father to stay. mama wanda comes to the rescue.

– warnings | depression, self harm (nothing too graphic), blood, hateful thoughts, fluff

– word count | 855

– you're not alone. if you ever need to talk, my dm's and asks are open. you're more than enough.

You know those days where you feel really good, life is great and you’re on top of the world and then suddenly it hits you that it was too good to be true and everything falls apart? This is how you’re feeling these past few weeks. Depression consumes your entire being, it hits when you least expect it.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You have been clean for 11 months. You had ups and downs but you stayed strong for the sake of your mom. She’s your best friend and your everything. She found out you were hurting yourself when you were only 13. She was devastated but after a lot of talk, you both decided it was best for you to go to therapy, and you have been going ever since.

Tonight your mom was out doing grocery shopping, meaning you were alone in the house just waiting for her to come back. You looked at the calendar and noticed that today, a few years back, you had seen your father for the last time. You were little, you could barely remember him at all, but deep inside you missed him, you longed for a connection with him. It hurt when you saw other kids growing up with their dads around, you wished you were in their place. Not that you didn’t love your mom, it’s the complete opposite; you just couldn’t understand why you still felt this way towards him after so many years.

You were starting to feel a little anxious, thinking why he left you. Did he ever want you? Weren’t you good enough for him? Were you a mistake? Every bad thought that could possibly exist was running through your head. You needed a relief. You knew your mom would get mad but that’s the least of your worries right now.

You went to the bathroom and started looking for the little hidden place where you keep your blade. You didn’t care about the pain or the mess you were doing; you just wanted relief. The physical pain couldn’t even compare to the mental turmoil you experience every day.

It was like time stopped. You heard a knock on your door, pulling you out of your trance and making you panic. You didn’t have the energy to even try and clean everything up, you just stayed on the floor, waiting for your mom to find you in that state. “I’m in the bathroom, mama!” You yelled, hoping she would hear it, you didn’t want to delay the inevitable.

Wanda enters the bathroom and her smile fades, you can see the tears in her eyes making you feel worse than you already are. “I-I’m sorry mama. I t-tried, I really did.” You started sobbing and Wanda didn’t hesitate to run to your aid. “Shh, I know baby. I know, it’s okay.” She whispers while pulling you into her lap, cradling you like a baby. She was talking but you were too focused on the way she was brushing your hair and the way she was rubbing your back in a soothing manner to even pay attention to the words coming out of her mouth.

“Y-You’re not mad?” You asked, you were sure she was. “Of course not, my love. You are so strong. I know you tried and that’s all that matters. Healing isn’t linear and that’s okay. We all have our days and I know how today affects you, I should have been more attentive. I’m sorry that I was gone for too long.” She kisses the top of your head and squeezes you lovingly.

“You can always count on me, okay? I want you to know that you have a friend in me. I’m your mother and your best friend for life.” She cups your face and rubs your cheeks softly. “I’m so proud of you, baby. Relapsing is part of the process of recovery, and you will have these kinds of days, but the important thing is that you understand that you’re not alone, alright? You’re the best person I have ever known my entire life. I know that you miss him, but he doesn’t deserve you at all. It’s his loss, not yours.”

You smile amidst tears, you genuinely couldn’t have asked for a better mother. She knows you inside and out and she really is your best friend. “T-Thank you mama. You really are the best mother in the world.” Wanda couldn’t help but smile as well, scrunching her nose and rubbing it on yours. “You are my everything, my sweet girl. Now, how about I help you clean yourself up, change into pj’s and maybe order some pizza to watch a movie?” You nod, just wanting to be near your mother.

“No need to thank me, sweetheart. I will always do my best to protect you and make sure that you’re safe and okay. I’m so proud of being your mom, you have no idea. We are together in this, alright? Always and forever.” She says while lifting her pinky finger up, smiling.

You smile back and link your finger with hers, mumbling. “Always and forever, mom.”

[box-off]

My theory for P3 is that he is what P2 thinks he could never be. Think of it, P3s character is very much different from P2, he's annoying, his humor, while edgy, is a bit more stupid and, you know, 2010's can i has cheeseburger type of deal, he is a fucking pedophile, and, in general, his actions, while they still hurt others, he's a lot more playful with them, which is especially easy to see in Paradise Lost. He messes with P2, makes him go through stuff and fight a whole bunch of people, what seems to be just for shits and giggles. While P2 nukes the city, because he doesn't give a fuck. As well as the "I'm not a bigot" thing, while yeah, I would probably say P3 isn't really that much more racist that P2, he is definitely homophobic! So, he's 1 point above P2 in his bigotedness.

While, yeah, both of them are Postal Dudes, they have the dark humor and edge, they express it differently. And Just, let me compare them real quick in physical matters.

P2: Balding, built like a chopstick, poorly shaved, greasy looking skin and hair, biggest eye bags I have ever seen.

P3: broad shoulders, visible body mass, stylish hair, and even tho he's homeless and drinks like crazy, some how he looks clean. (Bonus: badass gloves.)

Also, P3 has a very fragile masculinity, and while P2 could handle going around town in a gimp suit while everybody laughs? P3 was scared that someone will see him use a segway, because "that's gay". You make that guy go through what P2 had to go, and he will combust on the spot!

Lets also adres his addiction. P2 is a crackhead, no doubt in that, we all know it. P3?? You don't even have health pipes in that game, what are you talking about- (P3 does mention them, but since they are not present in the game, we can imagine that he either quit, or just isn't addicted to them)

My point is, since P3 is made up by P2's imagination, he is kind of the Tyler Durden for him. P3 is all that P2 is not. He's handsome, he's masculine, he's playful and stupid, and he gets the hot chick and he lives an amazing life and everybody loves him! But on the other hand, he is also all that P2 would rather dismiss and just forget as any other intrusive though that pops into someones head. Like, "What if I'm the president and I press the red button??" or "What if my Uncle is actually related to Osama Bin Laden and is now after me??" when you know fucking well that those scenarios are VERY unreal, and you just go "Yo, what the hell?? Why would I think about that??", P3 and Catharsis, manifest all those things into themselves, and this guy comes to life just to annoy the shit out of P2.

To finish it off. Imagine all your weird ideas and insecurities come to live into 1 person. They look like the perfect version of you, except they only speak in the most recent memes, and make your life a living hell, more than it already was. I would also drop kick his ass back to the back of my mind.

[mirensiart]

How do you picture each of the Zelda’s personalities? I feel like some of them, most people agree on like how mostly everyone pictures Fable to be goofy and messes with Legend. Flora (obviously) being a nerd, Sun being super sweet, but like what about the others? I can see Dusk being cold and dark but also really funny! Same idea with Artemis! Love the art btw!

Hello!!! Thank you, I'm glad you enjoy the art 💖

I feel like the zeldas with the most personality shown in their games are sun, flora, tetra, phantom (st!zelda) and echo (eow!zelda) obviously

The others aren't as fleshed out imo 🤔 so for the others my hc for each of them is like

Dot (mc! + fs!zelda): kinda rebellious and mischievous tbh 🤔 she does run out the castle to go to four's house for the minish festival without telling anyone and without any guards, four's grandpa is even like "princess please stop doing this" at her lmao she's also super excitable, running around the festival and trying out all the attractions lol she's just this small girl full of energy and whimsy

Lullaby (oot!zelda): i love her tbh i imagine her as this kind and super strong princess, who's a problem solver and would rather do stuff herself than let others do it, resourceful and intelligent, but with a strong air of sadness surrounding her, like no matter how much she smiles the smile doesn't reach her eyes. Very lonely as well, she hangs around the castle gardens a lot.

Dusk (tp!zelda): i love the idea that she's like, super funny and has a very special kind of humor, but her delivery is always monotone and flat, which takes people out and actually makes it even funnier lmao she's like this regal serious beautiful lady who will not hesitate to kill if necessary, but who will make a sarcastic remark out of nowhere or tell a joke with a super serious face, and no one knows if she's being serious or not (which is what amuses her the most tbh) she does this to twilight the moment they're back from the gerudo desert post game and he bursts out laughing so hard he clutches his stomach and she takes it as a lil victory cause seeing him so sad was breaking her heart.

Artemist (hw!zelda): strategic battle genius but also a huge gremlin lmao i like to picture her as a complete opposite to warriors cause it brings me joy, like if it were for her she'd put her hair in a messy bun, put on any armor and go, but she's forced to look "presentable" cause she's a princess and she hates it sm, wars takes like 2 hours to style his hair and put on eyeliner, meanwhile artemist would just wash her face put whatever on and leave for battle, her morning routine is like 5 mins, until impa catches her and forces her to go back and look "decent". She's excellent at politics and diplomacy and knows exactly what to say to manipulate the nobles to do what she wants, but deep down she just wishes she could smack everyone cause why are they all so annoying. Warriors once entered her tent without announcing himself and found her sprawled on the floor eating her food with her hands and her hair all over the place, and immediately left cause what the fuck

Aurora & Dawn (aol!zelda & loz!zelda): honestly haven't thought about them before 🤔 i just like the idea of having 2 zeldas at the same time and the chaos it'll bring, like it'd be super amusing. Aurora absolutely does the "back in my day we would walk miles in the snow to get to school" kinda comments to everything since she's like from 200 years in the past lmao i also see her as like super preppy and completely refusing to sleep, she does all nighters a lot. She slept for so long, she will not sleep until completely necessary!!!! Cue her going to the castle's kitchen for snacks at like 4am every day, the castle staff know her and ignore her at this point lol dawn & aurora are like that one meme with two people stumbling into each other and going "the person who wakes up at 6am vs the person who goes to sleep at 6am" lol

Fable (alttp/albw! zelda): really like her fanon interpretation, like her making fun of legend and teasing him is 10/10 no additions to her from me lol

[ranebowstitches]

One Piece at a Time: Read on ao3 here

The antique two-way radio crackles to life on the charger Steve leaves it on in his bedroom.

“Steve, Steve, Steve!”

Sighing, Steve puts down the remote he’s fiddling with and rolls his chair across the room to pick up the walkie. “Henderson, Henderson, Henderson,” he replies, stretching his arms over his head and feeling his back crack.

“Oh, thank god you’re awake! Steve, I found something! I’m on my way to your house right now!”

“What? Found something?” Steve rubs his face and glances to his clock on his bedside table. “Were you out scavenging scrap at one in the morning?”

“That’s not important!” Steve begs to differ. “What’s important is that you get to your garage and open the damn door for me!”

“Language, Henderson,” he says even as he stands and starts heading downstairs.

“Not the time, mom! Just open the door for me!”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m going. Hold your horses. What did you find that’s so important you have to show me right now anyway?”

There’s a short pause filled with heavy breathing that Steve guesses is Dustin making it up the steep hill that leads to his home. He’s flicking the lights on in his garage by time Dustin responds.

“A body!”

“‘Body’ is being very generous,” Steve sighs, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at the mess of parts, limbs, on his floor. A torso with a head attached lays in the middle, torn pieces of the dark trash bag Dustin had found it in still clinging to the blank white chassis.

“Can you fix him?” Dustin asks, looking up at Steve from under the brim of his hat.

“Him?”

“I didn’t wanna call him an ‘it’, and he’s got a masculine face sculpt.”

“Yeah, well…” Steve crouches down and hums. “It’s not one I recognize. This isn’t a mass produced model. For all we know, this could just be some prototype that failed so they tossed it.”

“I don’t know… They way he’s damaged is weird. It looks deliberate.” Dustin shudders.

“Maybe he’s dangerous, huh?” Steve stands back up and puts his hands on his hips. “Maybe he’s like this for a good reason.”

Dustin shakes his head, picking up the disembodied right hand and running his thumb over the smooth chassis. “I don’t think there’s any good reason to do this. To a human or an android.” He looks up at Steve again, eyes big and imploring. “Please, can you fix him?”

Steve sighs. “Why me? Why not take him in to a real shop? I can help you pay, if that’s it.”

Dustin shakes his head and places the hand back down. “No, I just… I don’t trust anyone else. What if they find out he’s something special, or find out where I got him?”

“Where did you get him?”

“Uhh…” Dustin looks away, failing to come up with an excuse.

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “I told you that scrapyard is off limits, man! It’s dangerous!”

“Yeah, I know, but it’s got the best stuff! For example-!” He gestures to the broken droid.

“Jesus…” Tugging at his hair, Steve looks between the droid and Dustin and groans. “Look, I don’t even know what you want me to do, Dust. The only droid I’ve ever seen in the inside of is Jonathan, and that was just to replace a few wires. Sure, I can fix small things, but this…”

They stare at the mess of parts for a moment, Dustin’s shoulders visibly drooping. Steve sighs again and rubs at his temples. Fuck.

“Yeah, okay. Fine. I’ll see what I can do.”

"Thank you, Steve! Thank you." Dustin's arms are around him in a second, threatening to bring them both to the ground under the weight of his excitement. "I'll look up some manuals to send to you. We're going to do something good. I can feel it."

With that, he's biking back out of the garage leaving Steve alone with the cold pieces of a droid wrapped in a trash bag.

Flinging himself down into the rolling stool by his workbench, Steve hides his face in his hands with a groan. This is bad. This is really, really bad. Every inch of this screams MURDER and it makes Steve slightly sick. All he's done is invite trouble into his life, again. How the hell is he even supposed to start piecing these things back together? He should just take the droid back to the scrapyard and tell Dustin there's nothing he could do…

But, as he gets a closer look at the droid, all he can think of is if it was Jonathan laying on the concrete in front of him.

The Byers family would be devastated at the loss of their oldest son, and what if there was someone out there who loved this droid the way Jonathan was loved? Shouldn't he at least try? Shouldn't Steve at least give him the chance to get back to where he belongs? If that is anywhere...

With a heaving sigh, Steve clears off his work bench and starts sorting pieces, laying them out in the approximate shape of a person, figuring out what's missing, and feeling a little better when he finds a few that click together nicely.

It's a really, really small start, but he has to at least try.

One Piece at a Time: Read on ao3 here

Written by me and @myshinyworld

[pademelonluck]

My first stilt performance!!!!

This was a bee costume (as you can see, I hope) created by Circartus.

Photo credit to @kempseyshirecouncil on Instagram. :)

[moonlit-orchid]

good evening to everyone except a certain few fucking anons

[burningcomputerpersona]

my school picture just came... fuck

and ur telling me i gotta carry this around with me for the next 4 years and put it on linkedin and shit?? just kill me now

[gojonanami]

content: drunk!gojo, clingy gojo, infinity acting up, pre-established relationship, down bad for you, mentions of having kids, poor Ijichi

“Hic— where’s my wife?”

You rub your temples, as you watch your husband whine, “how much did you let him drink?”

“Let him? He was a force of his own, he—“ Ijichi cuts off when he sees your glare, balking as he panics, she’s even scarier than Gojo when she’s mad! “I’m so sorry!”

You shake your head, “it’s fine, Ijichi,” and he scurried away quickly, leaving you with your very inebriated husband. The one who had drank one sip of alcohol too many and was probably liable to misfire a hollow purple any second, “Satoru,”

You approached him and were met with the resistance of his infinity, as he sat slumped over on the booth table, “Satoru, put down your infinity—“

“No,”

“Satoru, come on, you have to stop or I can’t take you home,” and he’s shaking his head, cheeks flushed.

“No, I mean I don’t know how to,” he sighs, “the infinity is all messed up, I can’t do it,” he rubs his eyes, and you’re sighing again.

“It’s just because of the alcohol, Toru,” you sit beside him, “you can do it

His face was buried in the crook of your neck, dead weight on his two feet, as he pulled you even closer, cheeks flushed and warm from the alcohol, “why didn’t you come? You told me you were gonna pick me up,”

“No, I didn’t, you said Ijichi was going to—“ you manage to say before he’s whipping his head up, eyes sparking with blue, but lips curled in a pout, as if he wasn’t two seconds from obliterating you and the entire block.

“Do you hate me?” And his eyes nearly glow in the dark of the night, infinity flickering as you drew closer, “do you not want me to have your kids?”

Your hand finally reaches him, as you are the only one who can pierce through his defenses, “first of all l, I would be the one having your kids, weirdo,” your fingers cup his cheek, thumbing away his tears, “and how could I ever hate my husband?”

He blinks at you, “You’re married?” And you have to bite back your laugh at his affronted expression, “to who? I’ll hollow purple them!”

You snort, “Well he has light hair, blue eyes, and is drunk off his ass,”

He blinks, furrowing his brow, “Nanami?” And you laugh, before kissing him hard. You can taste the alcohol on his lips still, mixed with the aftertaste of sugar and chocolate he had at the bar most likely.

“Get it now?” And he grins, nodding, as he hangs all over you as you get him into the car with you, leaning against you as you drive home.

“So you’re gonna leave your husband for me?”

“…I might, if you ever drink again.”