#so i guess that was when he was supposed to live with me

[pathologicalreid]

that gold mine changed you | s.r.

in which Spencer won't open up to you following his release from prison and you've reached your breaking point

margovember

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warning: post prison/prison arc, lack of communication, chemist!reader, slightly proofread word count: 2.13k a/n: love this song. both the original and the phoebe bridgers cover.

i don’t wanna be here anymore; it all tastes like poison

You rifled through the dish that you kept on the entryway console, looking for your car keys so that you could get out. It was hard to describe the way you felt like a spinning top, not dizzy but out of control. Everything felt so out of control.

How could you let it get this bad? You breathed heavily as you fished your keys from the pottery and looped your finger through the key ring. Wiping your nose with the sleeve of your sweatshirt, your eyes caught onto some movement in your periphery.

“You’re leaving?” Spencer asked from down the hallway; his work clothes were rumpled and creased like he’d fallen asleep in them.

You had hoped that he would have the ability to ease himself back into society after three months of prison, and you always took the time to assure him that you would be there for him. Desperately, you tried to be a pillar of support, but you had reached your breaking point.

He’d been given six weeks to readjust. When that didn’t seem to be working, you thought maybe he needed to find his rhythm again, but going back to work at the BAU didn’t seem to help him either. It wasn’t until his first sabbatical hit that you finally considered the fact that things would never be the same between the two of you again.

When you didn’t answer, Spencer put his foot out but hesitated to take a step toward you. “Are you going to come back?”

Swallowing thickly, you looked down at the keys in your hand, “I don’t know.” You eyed the key to your lab, the one place you could always go to escape when you needed to, but you never imagined needing to escape from Spencer.

You weren’t even sure he had been sleeping in the same bed as you, and if he was, he was getting in after you and getting up before you. There was once a moment when you and Spencer shared every minute detail of your lives with each other, at least the parts you weren’t together for, but now you wouldn’t be able to tell anyone what he was teaching in his lectures, and he couldn’t guess which projects you were working on.

When Spencer was in prison, you thought that was the loneliest you would ever be, but now you were living with the ghost of the man who you once loved, and you had never felt more alone.

Last week, you had practically begged him, very nearly gotten on your knees and pled with him to have a substantial conversation with you. He didn’t seem interested.

you believe that you love me

Looking back up, your eyes widened at the revelation that Spencer had made his way to you in complete silence; he was standing in front of you, “You’re sneaking out?”

Your nostrils flared in frustration; you were sneaking out of your own apartment, a space that you and Spencer were supposed to share, but it didn’t feel like home anymore. “Did I do something wrong?” You asked him, studying his brown eyes as they appeared until the cool light of the moon.

He set both of his hands on your upper arms, and you pulled away from his touch. Spencer flinched back as surely as if you’d struck him. If you pulling away from him hurt, then he wouldn’t be able to fathom how you were feeling right now—how you had been feeling for the last seven months.

“Is it because of your mom?” You tried again, silver lining your eyes as you looked up at him, mercurial tears streaming down your cheeks as you begged for an answer. “I was at work when she was abducted,” you reminded him, having thrown yourself into work while Spencer was in prison. “Is it because I didn’t help her?”

Spencer’s lips parted in surprise, “I didn’t know you blamed yourself for that.” His arms hung limply by his sides, fists clenching and unclenching in an attempt to release nervous energy.

Blinking tears from your eyes, your shoulders slouched at what felt like a rejection, “How would you? You don’t talk to me,” you told him, your tone wholly accusatory.

“We talk every day,” he rebutted, the energy in your conversation veering toward hostility. That’s not what you wanted; you just wanted to feel at peace.

Three months in prison, six weeks of mandatory leave, one hundred days with the team, twenty days into his first sabbatical, and Spencer was refusing to face what you had already run into headfirst. “We haven’t had a real conversation since February, Spencer. It’s September.”

His eyebrows pinched together as he studied your body language, profiling you to deduce what you wanted from him instead of just asking you. “What do you mean ‘a real conversation?’”

You pressed your lips together in a thin line, and you searched every part of your brain for something to say that wouldn’t contribute to taking your life apart brick by brick. You couldn’t. The words simply weren’t there anymore. Maybe you had left them behind months ago, but right now, you shrugged helplessly, “You’re different, Spence.”

He peered down at you as if you had offended him, “Did you expect me to stay the same?”

It was pathetic. You felt pathetic. Staying in your entryway and begging for someone who previously kissed the ground you walked on for a reason to stay. You never had to ask him before. “I’ve never expected anything but love from you, and you know that,” you told him, pulling the truth from the depths of your soul and putting it on display for him.

Spencer took a step back, stumbling as if his legs were threatening to give out beneath him. “You don’t think I love you anymore?” His own tears welled in his eyes, glittering saline along his lash line that made your chest ache.

You blinked, letting more tears fall down your cheeks. You heard the droplets as they fell on the vinyl decal of your sweatshirt, the only noise in the midst of an otherwise deathly silence. “You have given me no reason to believe that you do,” you admitted, your voice tight with emotion.

so, lose your faith in me

“Don’t leave,” he gasped, struggling through his tears. He held a hand out to you, too hesitant to touch you because of the way you reacted earlier.

You felt like you were tearing your own heart from your chest. You held the organ in your hands, blood dripping to the floor and seeping within the woodgrain, and you asked him to put it back where it belonged. “I can’t do this anymore,” you told him.

He set a hand on the side of your neck, and this time, you didn’t pull away from him. Instead, you savored his touch, the warmth of his palm seeping into your skin as the two of you waited for something to give. Three months in prison had been a test of your relationship; you had very little contact with each other. Nothing face-to-face, and after a while, Spencer’s mail started to go missing—interference by a prison guard who had it out for him. You thought that getting him back would fix everything.

Spencer was exactly the same, but somehow, he was completely different after his release. You couldn’t fault him for what he had gone through in prison, but you refused to continue your pattern of dancing around each other.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice so faint that you would’ve missed it had you not been searching for it. His breaths were quickening, and if it weren’t so dark, you’d be sure that his pupils were dilated in fear.

You pursed your lips, “Say it again.” You wanted to hear him. You needed to hear him. You so desperately wanted to hear him repeat himself so that you could throw your arms around him and let him know that everything was perfectly fine.

He panted, “I love you,” he echoed. “Please,” his voice broke, “I love you so much.”

“I want to believe you,” you breathed, looking back down at the keys that remained in your hand. As far as you were concerned, Spencer was the Patron Saint of Liars. He had the intelligence and the experience to become a master manipulator. He’d lied to you before. What was stopping him from doing it again? He knew that I love you was what you wanted to hear. When faced with telling a lie and losing you, the choice was laid out in front of him.

He nodded as if he understood, but you weren’t convinced that he possessed the bandwidth to fully comprehend why you were so unhappy. “I’m sorry for lying to you,” he whispered.

You lost your balance, your back slammed against the wall, and your eyes widened as a result of his apology, “Why?”

Spencer’s brown eyes widened as you slid down the wall, waiting until you were sat on the floor to speak again, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Mexico.”

“You could’ve told me,” you told him, “I could’ve helped you, Spencer. Then we could… Then maybe…” your voice trailed off, lost in a sea of hiccuping sobs.

Gingerly, Spencer lowered himself to the ground and took a seat next to you, “Maybe I wouldn’t have gone to jail. You’re right,” he admitted, “but maybe they would’ve killed you too. Maybe there would have been the same outcome as the one we got, or maybe it would have been much worse.”

Releasing a shuddering breath, you pulled your knees to your chest and wrapped your arms around them. “Lorenz,” you murmured, closing your eyes to relieve some of the burning.

“The Butterfly Effect,” Spencer commented, “Small changes can have large consequences. I made a decision that had massive ramifications and negatively impacted you, and I haven’t been doing enough to fix it.”

You sighed, “You can’t fix it, Spence. It’s like a band-aid over a bullet hole.” You thumbed the hem of your sweatpants, opening your eyes just to stare straight ahead at the wall.

He hummed in what you sincerely hoped was understanding, “I took six years of building trust with you and destroyed it, and now when I tell you I love you, you don’t believe me.”

“You told me you were going to Houston,” you whispered.

“I told everyone I was going to Houston,” he said softly.

Your head snapped in his direction, “I deserved more than what everyone else got. I deserved an explanation, and instead, you lied to me. You lied to me, and then you wouldn’t even let me see you while you were in prison.”

The corners of his mouth downturned, “I didn’t want you to see me in there, and I didn’t want anyone else to see you in there.” You’d heard second hand from JJ that the men at Millburn had ogled her the entire time she was visiting Spencer, and maybe he had explained himself in one of the missing letters, but he hadn’t mentioned it since coming home.

“Spencer, I just want to talk with you,” you whispered. “I want to have a conversation with my boyfriend that doesn’t end with him creating some arbitrary mental block because he doesn’t think I can handle it.”

There was a moment where you thought he was just going to let you go, but Spencer Reid liked to keep the things he cared about close. “It’s not because you can’t handle it, it’s because I can’t handle it,” he admitted.

You turned your body to face him, “What do you mean?”

“I don’t want to tell you about prison,” he clarified. “I barely want to tell my therapist about prison, but you—” his voice broke, and your heart went with it. “If I tell you everything I’ve done, you wouldn’t want to be with me anyway.”

You frowned, “Try me.” Your heart was racing; this bit here was decisive. His response would either mean letting go or moving forward.

He looked down at his lap, “Come to therapy with me tomorrow. It’s… there’s something about the leather couch that turns me into an open book.” He told you, nervously running his palms up and down his cloth-covered thighs. Instinctively, you reached out and grabbed his hands, putting a stop to his compulsive movements. He leaned his head back and stared up at the ceiling, “Please don’t leave.”

Shaking your head, you sniffled through your tears. If you’d had more energy, maybe you would’ve given him a soft smile, but for now, you answered him, “I won’t.”

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　SAILOR SONG

matt sturniolo x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N and Matt have a comfy indoor date; baking together.

WARNING: Making out.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by an anon.

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

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'I saw her in the rightest way'

The kitchen was an absolute mess, a delightful, chaotic swirl of ingredients strewn across the counters, flour dusting the air, and the aroma of vanilla mixing with the sound of their favorite playlist softly drifting in from the living room. The afternoon light streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over the scene as Y/N stood at the counter, carefully measuring flour into a white-ish ceramic bowl. Beside her, Matt was leaning against the counter, his eyes fixed solely on her, watching her with an intensity that could have melted chocolate.

"Okay, so you just, like, throw the flour in, right?" Matt asked, breaking the comfortable silence, reaching for the open bag with the kind of reckless enthusiasm that spelled disaster.

Y/N’s eyes widened, her hands instinctively darting forward to stop him.

"Wait, wait- Matt, no!" But it was too late. A poof of flour erupted like a mini explosion, covering both of them in a soft, powdery cloud.

Matt froze, blinking through the haze, and then burst into laughter, his shoulders shaking.

"Oops." He said with that boyish grin of his, the one that made Y/N’s heart do a little flip every time.

She tried to glare at him but failed miserably, laughter bubbling up as she brushed flour off her cheek.

"You’re such a mess." She teased, shaking her head, her eyes sparkling.

"And yet, here you are teaching me." He shot back, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Guess that says something about you, huh?"

"Yeah." She said with a mock exasperated sigh. "That I’m a hopeless romantic who thinks you can actually learn how to bake."

Matt just grinned, leaning in to steal a quick kiss on her flour-dusted nose, making her scrunch it up adorably in response.

"Alright, lover boy." Y/N said, shaking her head with a smile. "Let’s try not to blow up the kitchen, okay? I need you to grab the sugar next."

"Yes, ma’am." Matt replied, snapping a playful salute before turning to rummage through the cupboard. He managed to grab the sugar jar without spilling anything this time - progress, she thought with a fond smile.

They continued to work side by side, the kitchen filled with the sweet scent of vanilla and sugar. Y/N would occasionally reach out to correct Matt’s technique, her touch light but effective. Every time their hands brushed, Matt would flash her that lopsided grin that always made her cheeks warm. She tried to stay focused, but with him being so close, so effortlessly charming, it was a losing battle.

At some point, they both reached for the vanilla extract at the same time. Their fingers tangled, and Matt shot her a playful look.

"Hey, who’s the baker here?" Y/N teased, nudging him aside with her hip, her laughter light and teasing.

"I don’t know, I don't see them anywhere." He joked, pretending to search around the room, making her roll her eyes though the grin on her lips was impossible to hide.

They kept mixing and measuring, Matt’s enthusiasm both endearing and chaotic. Just when everything seemed to be going smoothly, he made his biggest blunder yet. He grabbed the baking soda and dumped a generous amount into the bowl, not bothering with a measuring spoon.

"Matt, no!" Y/N gasped, her eyes wide with horror. "That’s way too much! You’re going to ruin the batter!"

Matt looked from the bowl to her, then back at the bowl, his eyes comically wide. But instead of panicking, he simply shrugged and started laughing, his laughter so infectious that Y/N’s frustration began to dissolve.

"Matt, I’m serious." She groaned, burying her face in her hands. "This was supposed to be perfect, and now they’re going to taste like-"

"Hey, hey." Matt said softly, reaching out to gently pull her hands away from her face. "Come here, sweetheart. I'm sorry, yeah?"

Before she could protest, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into his warm embrace. Y/N sighed, trying to hold onto her annoyance, but the way he was looking at her - with that soft, adoring gaze - made it nearly impossible.

As if the universe was observing them closely, te next song on the queue started playing, and when Matt realized that it was one of their favorite - Sailor Song by Gigi Perez, obviously - his body started swaying gently, bringing her with him.

"What are you doing?" She asked, trying not to smile, her voice softening as her hands found home against his biceps.

"Distracting you." He said, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Is it working?"

Y/N tried to stay annoyed, but the tenderness in his eyes melted her defenses.

"You are so ridiculous." She said, but her words were softened by the smile that tugged at her lips.

"Ridiculously in love with you." He murmured, resting his forehead against hers. "Can you forgive me?"

Y/N’s heart fluttered, and she let out a soft, defeated sigh, leaning into him fully.

"Fine." She whispered, her voice barely audible over the music. "But you’re still fixing the batter."

"Deal." He said with a grin. And before she could pull away, he spun her around in a quick twirl, eliciting a surprised, joyful laugh from her, her apron flowing around her body.

As she came back into his arms, breathless and giddy, her eyes met blue soft ones, shaking her head.

"You really are something else, Mr. Sturniolo."

"And you love me for it." He replied, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her forehead. He lingered there, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair, the warmth of her against him.

"Yeah." She said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I really do."

With the playful moment fading into a comfortable silence, they returned to the counter, side by side once more. Y/N sighed dramatically, surveying the batter that was now slightly too foamy from Matt’s over-enthusiastic addition of baking soda.

"Okay, let’s see if we can salvage this." She said, her voice taking on that determined tone Matt found so adorable.

"How bad did I mess it up?" He asked, a wince escaping his lips.

"Not too bad." Y/N admitted with a small, fond smile. "We can balance it out with a little extra flour and sugar."

"Got it." Matt said, nodding eagerly as he grabbed the bag of flour, waiting for her instructions.

They worked together to fix the batter, Matt actually listening this time, his focus unwavering as Y/N explained what to do. After a few minutes of adjustments, Y/N dipped her finger into the batter for a taste test. Her eyes lit up in pleasant surprise.

"Hey, it’s actually good!" She exclaimed.

Matt’s face broke into a proud grin.

"See? I knew I could fix it." He said smugly.

"Mm-hmm." Y/N hummed, rolling her eyes playfully. "Pretty sure I did most of the fixing."

"But it was my idea to fix it." He countered, leaning in to press his lips against her warm cheek.

"Alright, let’s get these in the oven before you mess up anything else." Y/N said, lifting the tray carefully.

Her fingers were nimble as she adjusted the rack, carefully placing the cupcake tray into the preheated oven.

Matt couldn’t help but stop for a bit and just stare, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, his eyes never leaving her. There was something about watching her work, so effortlessly absorbed in what she loved, that made him feel as though the entire world had slowed to a gentle stop just for them.

It wasn't his fault. He reasoned to himself. It wasn't his fault he found everything she did so endlessly endearing, so worth watching with that starstruck gaze that his brothers teased him about. The way her brows furrowed in concentration, her fingers dusted with flour, her lips pursed slightly as she adjusted the oven dial; it all made his heart swell.

Y/N stood up, wiping her hands on her yellow apron and closing the oven door with a soft clink. She turned to grab the timer, only to notice the way Matt was staring at her, eyes sparkling with that familiar, dazed expression. He looked as if he were lost in a dream, his gaze so soft it made her heart skip a beat.

Feeling the heat rise in her cheeks, she tilted her head slightly and smiled shyly.

"What?" She asked with a soft laugh, setting the timer up. "Do I still have flour on my face?"

Matt didn’t answer right away, his eyes never wavering from hers. It was like he was in some kind of trance, completely mesmerized. After a few seconds, he finally blinked, his lips curling into a soft smile.

"Yeah." He said simply, his voice so low and gentle it made her stomach flip.

Before she could ask where, Matt stepped forward, closing the distance between them in a few strides. His hands found her waist, pulling her close. Y/N’s breath hitched, her eyes widening slightly as he leaned in, his breath warm against her skin.

"Right here." He dipped his head and began to trail soft, lingering kisses along her jaw. His lips brushed tenderly against her skin, and with each kiss, he pulled a soft, breathless giggle from her lips. The sweet sound made him smile against her cheek, his eyes closing as he continued his path to her chin, and then to her cheeks, where he left playful kisses that were so light, they were almost ticklish.

"Matt." She breathed out, half-laughing, half-sighing, her hands coming up to rest on his chest. Her fingers traced slow circles over his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath the fabric.

He paused, hovering just above her lips, so close that she could feel the ghost of his breath on her mouth but not quite touching her. His eyes were locked on hers, and there was a playfulness mixed with adoration in them that made her knees feel weak. He knew exactly what he was doing, teasing her like this.

"Matt." She repeated, her voice a whisper now, filled with a hint of impatience.

"Yeah?" He murmured back, the corners of his lips twitching upwards.

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, her lips twitching as she tried to suppress a smile.

"Kiss me properly." She demanded, her voice barely above a whisper.

'Oh, won't you kiss me on the mouth and love me like a sailor?'

He chuckled softly, his eyes never leaving hers as he leaned in just a fraction more, brushing his lips against hers, still not quite giving in. But Y/N, never one to be outdone, closed the remaining distance, pressing her lips to his in a soft, sweet kiss that sent warmth blooming through her chest.

Matt’s arms tightened around her waist, pulling her even closer as their kiss deepened, slow and unhurried, like they had all the time in the world. Y/N’s hands wandered from his chest to his biceps, squeezing slightly at the firmness there, before sliding up to his shoulders and finally into his hair. She tugged gently, earning a soft sigh from him that she could feel warming up her face.

Their lips curved into smiles as they kissed, each touch and movement so full of affection it made Y/N’s heart feel light. Matt blindly started to sway their bodies again, following the slow rhythm of the indie song, his hands exploring the small of her back, fingers spreading wide as if he wanted to memorize every curve.

Y/N sighed into his mouth, her fingers threading through his hair, and for a moment, it was just the two of them, no kitchen, no baking, just the soft, sweet connection between their lips and the feel of each other’s warmth.

But the intimate moment was abruptly interrupted by a sudden, loud DING! from the oven.

The sound made Y/N jump slightly, pulling away from Matt with a startled gasp. Matt couldn’t help but laugh, the joyous sound filling the kitchen as he pressed one last, playful kiss to the tip of her nose.

"Guess that’s our cue." He said, still chuckling as he gave her a quick eskimo kiss, their noses brushing together.

Y/N laughed, shaking her head as she gently pushed him away.

"Goofball." She muttered affectionately, her cheeks still flushed.

Reluctantly pulling away, Matt released her from his embrace, giving her one last, lingering look before letting her turn her attention back to the oven. Y/N leaned down to peer through the glass, her hands resting on her knees as she checked the cupcakes.

Matt watched her from behind, unable to resist the fond smile that tugged at his lips. The sight of her brows knitting together as she inspected their work made his heart swell.

"They look perfect." Y/N announced, turning back to him with a triumphant smile.

"All thanks to you." Matt came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. "I love baking with you." He whispered, his voice soft and sincere.

"Even if you’re terrible at it?" She teased.

"Especially because I’m terrible at it." He replied, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Gives you more reasons to stick around."

'And we can run away to the walls inside your house'

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[heartowan]

★WINTER VISITOR: jason todd x reader.

( first part here !! ; afab!reader, cuss words, smoking, sexual content ) ────────── ★

"It's you again." You murmured, your voice sounding extra quiet now that it was past midnight. You could see the tired look in his eyes as he sat down on the wooden floor of your porch, his legs stretched out in front of him, reminding you of the position he was in that day you found him bleeding right there, at that same spot.

It had been a few weeks, maybe two and a half... and there he was: the Red Hood, back at your house, looking up at you with those white shining eyes of his ridiculous helmet.

"Yeah, it's me." He said, and before you could even process or think about the modulated voice, he removed the helmet. Now, only the area around his eyes was covered by that little domino mask.

You didn't like smoking inside, so you often went out to the porch for this sole purpose. To smoke a blunt. It calmed you down, though you didn't enjoy the actual action of smoking that much. It was... er, alright.

You exhaled the smoke slowly, and that was when he noticed what you were doing. "Can I be really honest with you right now?" He murmured, still looking up at you. You offered a soft grunt as a response, and he continued: "I would never, ever, in any possible circumstance ever, guess that you were a stoner." He said, a light chuckle following his words.

You furrowed your eyebrows, something that you seemed to do a lot in his presence, but you weren't offended in the slightest.

"Well... uh, thanks?" You mumbled with little interest. "I do it mostly for the buzz."

"I guessed you'd say that." He teased, a little stupid grin on his lips, and you glared at him.

"What's that even supposed to mean?" You inquired, a faux-offended tone in your voice.

"Nothing, nothing." He snorted, leaning his head back against the wall.

"What are you doing back here anyway?" You asked, now moving to sit down close to him. Honestly, you didn't really mind that he was who he was right now. You were stoned, tired and... didn't give a shit. You'd probably still sit in the same spot if you were sober.

He sighed, closing his eyes for a brief moment. "Was passing by and saw you out." He looked over at you, watching as you sat down beside him as he spoke. "Can I have a drag?"

"Sure." You mumbled, handing him the blunt. Woah, now you were gonna share saliva with him. Where the hell was your life going?

You mimicked his position, leaning your head against the wall. The night was freezing. You two probably shouldn't be outside, but you were covered in your warmest clothes, and he didn't seem to be cold, so you brushed your own concerns off.

"I looked you up, by the way." He murmured, handing you the little joint back. "Not much out there."

You arched one eyebrow at his words. Oddly enough, this time you weren't weirded out. "And you're admitting it?"

"Uh, yeah." He shrugged, letting out a soft huff. "Trying to make conversation or something." You laughed at that. What the hell was this guy's deal?

You didn't seem to be angry at him, so he kept talking to you. The whole thing was unusual for both of you. Talking to strangers (sorta) and being comfortable while doing so wasn't something that happened often in your lives.

You two spent hours and hours talking, even after you finished the blunt. It was nice, and even though it was still freezing, you two weirdly didn't bother by it. Maybe it wasn't that cold.

When you woke up the next day, you were in your bed, all tangled up in your sheets. You didn't even know how you got there, but you felt light, like you had a good night of sleep. Also unusual, because every time you smoked, you had the shittiest sleep of your life, but it seemed like this time had been different.

You picked up your phone, and as soon as you unlocked the screen, there was a text notification from a contact that you didn't recognize.

It was a red heart emoji, just that, and the text said: "If you're wondering, yes, I was the one who put you to bed. And yes, I snooped around your room 😝"

You rolled your eyes at that and tossed the phone down on the matress.

★...

More often than not, your few friends noted how affectionate you were. Always giving them little touches, brushing hair back, playing with the strands, fixing their clothes, stroking their arms with your fingers, even tying their shoelaces. It was all so you.

You didn't have many people close to you, and not because you were a loner, simply because you valued your hodiernal connections enough and didn't feel the need to look for anything else at the moment. You liked your friends, in fact, you loved them.

So, when that guy in the red helmet started showing up at your porch at ungodly hours at least three times a week, you started to consider adding him to your circle of friends. It wouldn't harm anyone, he was nice, and your friends wouldn't know anyway.

He was surprisingly talkative with you. You always expected those harsh and violent vigilantes to have harsh and violent personalities even when they weren't doing their job, but he was cool. He talked about a lot of things with you just to keep the conversation going, and you thought it was cute.

"... so... hey, did you get a new lamp?" He asked as he flopped down aggressively on your couch, interrupting his own line of thought. He was asking you about the neighborhood cat before.

You nodded at that, standing across from him while you fixed the little Christmas hat that had fallen off your bookshelf. "Yeah, the other one I had broke. I kinda bumped into it."

He hummed at your explanation, and you recognized the sound of his helmet being taken off. Always, as soon as he got comfortable in your house, he removed it.

While you had some trouble getting the Christmas decoration to stay in place, he stared at your back. Taking in your little green and red pajamas, your slightly messy hair, the dark green socks on your feet, and the way you seemed to be struggling terribly to get the Christmas hat to stay up. Adorable.

He stood from the couch and walked over to help you. "Let me try." He said, gently nudging your hands away. You sighed and let him.

You watched his concentrated face as he tried to put the little red and white hat in a position where its own weight wouldn't make it tumble. He looked nicer up close.

"It's Jason, by the way." He mumbled, eyes focused on fixing the hat. You furrowed your eyebrows.

"Huh?"

"My name. It's Jason." He explained.

He already knew yours. You had told him a few weeks ago when you shared a blunt for the second time.

"Ah, alright." You mumbled back to him, trying not to sound surprising. Jason. It was a cute name, and it seemed to fit him. "Fits you."

He finally got the hat to stay up, and he turned to you with a big, proud smile. You found it quite adorable how much he smiled around you. You didn't know if he was like this all the time, but you chose to believe it was a unique thing.

You two just stared at each other for a moment, him proud of his achievement, and you thankful for his help.

"Do you know how profound your eyes are?" He blurted, making a stupid face at you. Truly, he was gazing deeply into your eyes.

"If this is you trying to hit on me, you're failing." You retorted, a little smile appearing on your lips.

"Just saying." He shrugged, stepping back a bit. "I fixed your hat. You're welcome."

You watched as Jason walked back to your couch, flopping down onto it once more and letting out a lazy groan. His eyes closed, and he let out a tired sigh.

"Rough night?" You murmured, sitting down beside him. Your couch was comfortable and fit up to three people. Most of these nightly visits were spent in it, talking away. It was all too cozy.

Recently, he had started placing his arm around you when you sat closely, that and gently caressing your hair. And, this time, it wasn't different. As soon as your head touched his shoulder, his arm was around you, and his fingers started threading through your hair.

When you got closer, spending time with Red Hood Jason became something like spending time with yourself. Despite the absurdly different lifestyles, you two had a lot in common.

Like physical touch as a love language, liking sweet tea, reading, staying up until dawn, and, of course, being each other's secret. Nobody knew about your midnight visitor, and nobody knew where he went when he became unreachable past midnight.

"Yeah, rough night." He said, his voice becoming softer as he steadied himself with your help, the help of your presence, of your proximity. "Just, like, lots of stupid people making my job even harder."

"I get it." You murmured, looking up at him through your eyelashes. He was to your left, his right hand playing with your hair while you half-rested your back on his chest. It wasn't awkward anymore. You weren't even sure it ever was. "It used to be like that at my old job, and then I got a job at that little bookstore close to Gotham U."

"Mmm." He nodded, tilting his head a little in your direction, but his eyes remained closed. "You think you'd recognize me if I went there in my normal clothes?" There was a faint smile on his lips as he muttered those words.

"Probably." You said smuggly. "That little mask doesn't hide much."

"True," he chuckled softly, his eyes fluttering open to look down at you. They still look tired, and you had no idea if you'd ever see him looking not-tired. Maybe cause you've never seen each other after a good night of sleep. "But, they hide the most important part of my face. You can see the color of my eyes, yeah, but you don't know what's the shape of them or anything."

"Makes sense. Yeah, I think I wouldn't recognize you at first, but I'd recognize your voice, for sure." You said.

"What? Is it special or something?" He smiled at you, his fingers giving your ear a light, playful tug. "I bet you wouldn't recognize that either."

You gasped dramatically, hand cluching chest as you looked at him with the dumbest smile on your parted lips. "How dare you doubt me?" You inquired, your tone dripping of sarcasm.

"I mean..." he mumbled. "I guess you might recognize it. I don't know... we'll- we might see it one day." He fumbled over his words, his cheeks reddening. You got him flustered by making fun of him.

You wondered if that guy snuggled up with you on your couch, mumbling and fumbling over his words because of you was the same guy that beat and killed criminals in the deeps of Gotham. How could he be so... him? People have layers, yes, but this man is unbelievable.

Everything went quiet for a few minutes, only the faint sounds of your breathing and the soft hum of the heater could be heard, but those were muffled by the pull of your gazes on each other. He couldn't stop staring at your face, at your nose, at your lips, at your forehead, at your eyes. Like he'd never seen something so flawless, so polished, so complete ─ all he needed.

And you stared at him, at his mask, at the paint around his blueish-green eyes, at his chapped, but rosy pouty lips, at his straight nose, at his cheekbones, his chin, the white and black locks that fell on his forehead, his ears and the small earings on them. Like you'd never seen someone so unique, that seemed to be right there for you. Just for you.

You sighed when the staring contest became too much, but neither of your gazes strayed. His eyes focused on your lips, and you'd recognize that look in any light.

"Can I be really honest with you right now?" You murmured, and you could see a little smile creeping on his lips when he registered your words. Or, his words. He offered a soft "mhm" in response. "I want to kiss you so fucking bad. I think I might die if I don't."

"You might die?" His tone was soft, slightly mocking. "I don't think I'd like for that to happen."

"It'd be all your fault..." you taunted, giving him ridiculous puppy eyes. But, he was ridiculous too, and they worked so well on him.

He simply chuckled at you, and in half a second, his hand in your hair was used to push your head closer to his face as he leaned in, capturing your lips in the softest kiss you've ever shared with someone. It was lazy, he wanted to adjust to your pace, to let you guide, and you kept it deliciously slow and delicate, your heads moving and lips touching each other in a way that was simultaneously so tender and so sensual.

His hand slid to your cheek, holding you closer and caging you in his embrace while you raised a leg and placed it right on top of his, draping it over his lap, almost to mimic his hold on you. He used his left arm to pull you even closer by that same leg, your chests touching as the kiss became more intense and your tongues met.

He parted his lips to invite it, and you gladly accepted, sliding it inside of his mouth and caressing his own languidly and in a pleasant way, earning a hum from him that you swallowed in your kiss.

The feeling of your lips on his, his hands on you, his tongue on yours... way more satisfying than you'd ever imagined. You didn't think he'd feel so good on you.

His hand on your leg pulled you on his lap, the kiss becoming sloppy as you both shuffled on the couch to get you into a straddling position, each one of your thighs beside and squeezing his, your knees digging into the soft cushions of the couch as the kiss started getting a little more intense.

After all this time knowing and wanting each other, even if the attraction was suble, you'd expected wildness, despair, hands clutching clothes, teeth clashing, lips being biten, but that wasn't happening. What was in the air was need, tenderness, longing, and comfort, almost like it was a normal Thursday.

But it wasn't, and the both of you knew that. It was something new, something that you had yet to explore with the other. You were, of course, stepping into uncharted territory, a land which you knew nothing about. How would it be from now on? He'd still come almost every night? You'd still text constantly? Would you still call him in between your breaks to gossip about your boss? Would things get difficult and complicated?

These thoughts made you pull back from the kiss. Fucking anxiety. The pleasant and wet pop of your lips parting would've made you smile if you weren't so preoccupied. "Sorry." You mumbled into his lips. "Thinking too much."

"Don't worry, I get it." His nose brushed yours, and his heavy, warm fingers slipped under your shirt. He was panting a little, his cheeks, lips and neck flushed. He wanted you so bad. "If... you just want to chill and hang out like we usually do, we can just try to go back to that. Don't overthink it, okay? This doesn't doesn't have to be complicated."

You furrowed you eyebrows at him. "I don't see how this would not be complicated." He smiled at you, at your words, at whatever. He was, honestly, just glad to have you there, on top of him, speaking to him with your pretty voice after he had your tongue down his throat.

"I mean... like, don't think too much. I know it's easier said than done, but I think we'll figure it out anyway." He explained, his words sounding so sweet as he obviously spoke in a way that you just knew was an attempt to comfort you. "I don't wanna sound stupid and mushy, I really don't, but... yeah, I want with you... whatever you want with me. As long as you're happy and satisfied."

"Jason, what the hell do you mean?" You mumbled, narrowing your eyes at him. He laughed at your tone.

Saying his name felt weird. Until some time ago, you only called him Red Hood. But it also felt right, felt closer, deeper, maybe even made you feel warmer inside. The both of you.

"That I like you and I'm happy to be here, doing this with you." He said. "I don't know if it's too fast, maybe it is, but I'm in for it if you are."

Jason squeezed your waist, his eyes glued to yours as he waited for your response. His fingers caressed your skin, the palms of his hands heating up your sides while the pads of his digits squeezed your soft derm.

"I like you too." You whispered, almost afraid of your own words, but he was just marveled about how sensitive and sincere you sounded. "I'm in."

He offered you a gentle smile, warm and inviting, and you smiled back, your eyes crinkling at the corners. That sight reminded him of something.

"Take it off for me?" You looked confused at his request, a little curious pout on your lips. "The mask." Oh.

Carefully, your fingers reached for the black domino mask around his eyes. Even though you were excited to finally see what was under there for so long, you weren't hesitant. It peeled off easily, and you caught a glimpse of his temple once you started pulling it away ─ in five seconds, there he was. Jason.

He had black paint smeared around his eyes, but you could see him clearly even under the dim, warm lighting of your living room. You two were so close that you could see almost all of his lower eyelashes, but the top ones merged with the paint. You couldn't take that.

You wiped the oily paint away with the bottom of your shirt, just hoping it was washable. He simply let you. And in a minute, you finally had him there. All of him, all of his face.

"Your eyes are pretty." You murmured, hands now coming up to craddle his face. "Like, the shape."

"You think?" His voice was low and soft as he asked, and he received a nod in response. He loved when you complimented him, and you didn't do it often. "Kiss me?"

You just nodded again. You'd never dare refuse him. Your met him in a more certain kiss this time, now used to each others lips. He squeezed your waist once more, pulling you closer to him as the kiss intensified. Your clothed cores rubbed and chests pressed together with the movement, and you two grunted at the contact.

Your hands slid down to his shoulders, then to his biceps. You just had to grasp at them. And his own went up to your back, making you tingle. It was already too much, yet not enough.

You moved your hips against his, searching for more of that sensation from just a few seconds ago, and in no time, he was guiding the movements, his hands on your waist, moving you back and forth. The friction was delicious, and it made you both moan in each other's mouths, the sounds making everything so much more pleasant.

His mouth left yours only to press at your cheeks, going up to your temples, and then back down to kiss under your ear, then all over your neck. He just wanted to swallow you whole, but while he couldn't do that, he'd have to settle for kissing you all over.

He painted your neck with red marks, his lips sucking and leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses everywhere he could reach. Your hands went to his hair, sometimes tugging at his locks, sometimes caressing his scalp. He couldn't get enough of your touch, of your body against his, of your skin. He needed you.

You kept moving against him, rubbing yourself on his crotch to try and soothe the want you felt inside. You couldn't feel that much through your pants. They were thick to keep you warm, but you felt hot enough already.

Jason's hands around your waist lifted you up from his lap with ease, then guided you down to lay on your back on the couch, and you pushed some pillows to the floor on the process so you could fit better. He straddled your hips and pulled his shirt off all while you stared up at him with your pretty eyes.

You didn't hold back when you felt the urge to touch him, your fingers tracing his abs so carefully, caressing all of the skin you could reach without sitting up. His skin was littered with scars, and the ugly gash from before was healing slowly ─ it was still a red, long scar on his chest, its color showing that it wasn't fully healed yet, but much better than before. It wasn't that deep of a wound, but with him constantly having people beat him, neither of you expected it to heal quick and gracefully.

"I want you." You murmured quietly, a little embarrassed of your own words, but they were the ultimate truth. You wanted Jason and anything he could offer to you at that moment.

His eyes followed your hands, and he placed one of his on top of yours, pressing your fingers against his skin. "I'm yours." He whispered, and you wondered if he meant right now or from now on.

You looked back up in his eyes, and you felt heat pooling at your lower belly when you noticed the look in them. Like he wanted to consume you, and you wanted him to. Right now.

His hands lifted your shirt, bunching it up past your chest as he leaned down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth while his fingers softly grazed the other, caressing it. You slipped your fingers in his hair again, pushing his head against you, and you felt him move his hips against yours once more.

With that, you could feel how much he wanted you as well, as the bulge in his thick pants pressed against you even through the heavy layers. You wanted those heavy layers off.

"Jason," you mumbled his name, hands gently squeezing his shoulders. "Take your pants off."

You heard him let out an amused huff at your request, and he went back up to his previous position, looking down at you. He guided your hands to his belt, and you knew what to do.

Swiftly, your fingers unbuckled it, pulled it out of the loops, and tossed it to the floor of your living room, you both heard as it landed on the mat with a soft thud. You went for his button next, then for the zipper. You caught a glimpse of his black boxers, salivating at the mere view of them.

He helped you push his pants down and then tossed them to the floor as well. When he was free of his, he yanked yours away without warning, making you let out a surprised yelp, in which he delighted himself.

He laughed at the sound you made while he removed your green socks, and you glared up at him for surprising you. "Not funny." You muttered, but he shrugged playfully at you.

He leaned down to nuzzle your neck after he removed your shirt as well, the gesture reaking of the affection he felt for you. His hands splayed on your stomach as his lips and nose caressed your senstive skin, and you squeezed at his arms, your legs sneaking past his and wrapping around his hips.

His hands went for your ankles, caressing the back of them as he dived back into your chest and then down to the valley in between your breasts, then to your stomach, and then to the place where you wanted him the most.

His hands went back up to your sides now, but he brought one down to caress you through your panties, brushing a finger over the damp spot in them, and then one over your clit. He smiled at how your thighs pressed on his shoulders and then at you when his eyes found yours.

He kept rubbing that same spot through the thin fabric, stimulating your clit, but not too much. He knew you wanted more, both of you did, but he wanted to savor that moment, and you appreciated that, even if you were dying for him to just pull those panties off and have his way with you.

Jason hooked one of his fingers onto the waistband of your underwear and finally pulled them off. Unlike the rest of his clothes, he didn't toss those on the floor, placing them on the beside you instead so you wouldn't have trouble looking for them later.

He looked down at you, exposed to him for the first time, his mouth salivating at the sight of you wet, swollen, and flush all because of him. He didn't have the strength to tease you anymore in that moment. He just dove in.

His hand that was toying with you before went back to your empty side, pulling your body closer to him so he could properly burrow his face in your pussy while he ate it, and then it moved to press at your lower stomach, urging your orgasm on. His tongue lapped at you, into your soaked folds and at your swollen bud, which he sucked so carefully to make you feel pleasure and only that.

He kept a steady rhythm, using your moans and gasps as a guide for his pace. Your fingers played with his hair while you rolled your hips against his face, rubbing your cunt on him, using his mouth for your pleasure. He was so good at that, at making you feel good.

He slipped his tongue inside of you once or twice to test the waters, and you whimpered at that. He couldn't wait to bury himself in you. He pulled away from your weeping cunt, only to slip his boxers off, revealing his flushed length.

You pushed up to your elbows to have a better view of him, and he looked divine from head to toe. The messy hair that you had been toying with, his flushed face, neck, and chest looked so good under the warm lighting of the room, his hard and leaking girth that looked like it was made to fit you, the pathetic needy expression on his face, and yours probably looked the same too.

He let you take your time, let you stare at him. Your eyes were hungry, and so here his. You looked all perfect down there, looking at him, with your cheeks flushed, lips parted, messy hair spilling on the pillow, your beautiful body and legs spread for him. God, he wanted you more than he ever wanted anything.

Jason licked his lips, and once he'd had enough of your staring contest, he pulled you closer again by the legs. He leaned down to capture your lips in a heated, needy kiss, each one of his hands being placed beside your head to support his body while it covered yours.

Your hips were aligned, and he purposefully let his throbbing cock brush your soaked heat, giving you a little taste. It all felt so good, so right. Your arms went around his neck while they could, tugging him close, pressing your chests together, squeezing your breasts against him.

"Pull out, right?" He mumbled into your mouth, his eyes looking hazy. You nodded lazily. "M'kay."

He reached down in betwen you, not wanting to separate his body from yours, he wanted to feel the heat of your chests together. Carefully, he slid the head of his dick in between your folds, dipping it in your juices and rubbing it on your clit to make you even more needy for it, and then slowly, he slid the tip into you, a satisfied groan leaving his mouth. It was surreal, it already felt so good and he wasn't even all the way in.

You sighed in satisfaction, your eyes closing and your head tipping back against the pillow. You scratched his back gently, the slow scrape of your nails on his skin matching the languid rhythm he used to slide into you, stretching out your channel with ease. You were so fucking wet. He was met with no resistance, you wanted him there.

Despite being your first time together, it didn't feel awkward. It didn't feel confusing or complicated. It was him and you, just like always. Comfortable.

He let you adjust to his size, his lips peppering your jaw with tender kisses as you got used to the stretch and waited for the mild burning sensation to cease. Felt so easy with him.

Jason felt you move against him, trying to fuck yourself on his cock, and he smiled on your soft skin. He pushed up again to look down at you, his arms still on either side of your head. With your legs around his hips, he started moving, meticulously thrusting into you, searching for the most sensitive spots, feeling every inch of your gummy, warm walls hugging his length.

It felt like heaven, finally being inside you. Everything with you was so good.

He picked up the pace as you started breathing heavier, your eyes closing as you let yourself enjoy every single thing about this moment, about him in you. Pistoning in and out of you in a needy rhythm, he grunted and groaned so deliciously, blessing your ears with his sounds.

You felt yourself nearing the edge even more with each thrust. It all felt so intense. He mirrored your feelings, his eyes squeezing shut as he held back his own release, trying to hold up so you could come together.

Neither of you could speak at that moment, not even to mumble words of praise, the pleasure consuming your minds with equal intensity, taking up every space in your brains. You couldn't delay it anymore.

Your walls clenched around him, and you gasped, whimpered, and moaned at the sensation. You couldn't control the sounds coming out of you. Your eyes closed once again as your lips stayed parted, heavy breaths coming out of them.

As you squeezed his cock in pleasure, Jason had to muster all of his self-control to be able to pull out of you before he spilled all of his seed inside of you and fucked everything up. He couldn't break your trust like that. He pulled out, and in less than a second, his white, hot, and thick cum spilled all over your stomach and pelvis. He'd never cum like that before, so desperately. The sounds he made while he let his liquid pour over your skin without even having to milk it out with his hand were ungodly, so fucking lewd.

"Fuck," Jason gasped, his head slumping forward as he panted on top of you. "S'good." He mumbled.

You cracked a small smile at that, fingers going back to scratching his back when you could finally concentrate on something other than your orgasm taking over your body.

"So good." You echoed, eyes closing as he rested his head in the crook of your neck, breathing in the mixture of your scent with the smell of sex in the air.

"I'm not moving from here." He warned in another lazy mumble, his arms snaking around your waist. You chuckled at him.

"Okay." You muttered softly, one of your hands going to play with his hair. "We'll stay here."

"We'll stay here." He echoed your words as well, letting out a tired yet satisfied sigh.

Your eyes drifted up for the window for a second, and you noticed it was snowing again outside. It was all so magical, even if you were feeling sweaty and sticky.

You sighed, the sight of the snow falling relaxing you as well as Jason's body on top of yours, warming you up.

Wait, was the window open all this time?

☆

a.n: hello! I hope this is cohesive enough and not too too fast. it's my first time ever writing smut, so i really wanted to focus on that. thanks for reading!

[rose24207]

Interrupted Stream

Summary: Lando is streaming and the chat seems to like his girlfriend more than him.

TW: None!

Genre: fluff, humor

A/N: English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

Lando was in the middle of an intense game, his eyes glued to the screen. His chat was alive with their usual chaotic energy, commenting on everything from his questionable aim to his random screams whenever he got ambushed.

“Alright, chat,” he muttered, leaning closer to his mic. “This is it. Big brain plays only. I’m clutching this—wait, WHAT?!”

A sniper shot from across the map ended his game, and he threw his hands up in disbelief. “That’s so unfair! How did he even see me?”

The chat erupted with laughter:

“Lan, you’re blind.”

“Bro, he was RIGHT THERE.”

“Classic Lando meltdown.”

He sighed dramatically, leaning back in his chair. “Chat, you’re supposed to be on my side. You’re supposed to support me. Where’s the loyalty?”

As he rambled on, the door to his office opened, and you walked in holding a mug. “Lando, do you—oh. Are you live?”

He spun around in his chair, a grin spreading across his face. “I am, indeed, live. And now so are you.”

You froze for a second, glancing at the camera. “Oh no,” you said, setting the mug on his desk. “This is why I avoid this room when you’re streaming.”

The chat immediately exploded:

“Y/N REVEAL!”

“WE’VE BEEN BLESSED!”

“OH SHE’S HERE!”

Lando leaned back, hands clasped behind his head. “Chat, look who decided to join us. Everyone say hi to my very lovely girlfriend.”

“Hi, chat,” you said reluctantly, waving. Then you turned to Lando with a suspicious look. “Wait. Why do you look so smug? What did I walk into?”

“I was just showing chat how amazing I am at this game,” he said innocently, gesturing at the screen.

You raised an eyebrow. “Amazing? Didn’t I just hear you screaming about getting sniped?”

The chat went wild again:

“SHE KNOWS!”

“Y/N CALLS HIM OUT!”

“WE LOVE HER ALREADY.”

Lando groaned, putting his head in his hands. “Why are you always on their side?”

“Because they’re right,” you teased, sitting on the arm of his chair. “Let me guess. You ran straight into the open without looking, didn’t you?”

“Excuse me,” he said, pointing at you. “I’m a tactical genius. They just got lucky.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure, babe. Tactical genius. That’s why you once threw a grenade at your own teammate.”

The chat was losing it:

“EXPOSED.”

“LAN, SHE’S TOO GOOD.”

“PLEASE LET HER STREAM INSTEAD.”

Lando groaned, covering his face. “This is cyberbullying. From my own girlfriend.”

“Call it tough love,” you said, smirking. “Besides, you’re the one who left your socks on the kitchen counter this morning, so you deserve it.”

“What does that have to do with anything?!” Lando exclaimed, his cheeks turning red as he glanced at the camera.

“Everything,” you said, standing up. “Alright, I’ll leave you and chat to... whatever this is. Try not to embarrass yourself too much, yeah?”

Lando turned to the camera with a dramatic pout. “Chat, she’s so mean to me. Don’t you feel bad for me?”

The responses were immediate:

“NOPE.”

“WE STAN Y/N.”

“JUST ACCEPT YOUR FATE, LAN.”

Before you could leave, Lando grabbed your hand. “Wait, wait! Before you go, answer one thing.”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “What?”

He turned back to the chat with a grin. “Alright, chat, here’s the question: Who’s better at Mario Kart—me or Y/N?”

You snorted. “Oh, that’s not even a question. I destroy you every time.”

The chat erupted again:

“Y/N SUPREMACY.”

“GET HER ON STREAM!”

“LAN IS FINISHED.”

Lando shook his head, laughing. “Unbelievable. I’m outnumbered in my own stream. You’re supposed to be on my team!”

“I am,” you said with a smile. “But only when you’re actually good at something.”

The mock gasp Lando let out was so over-the-top that you couldn’t help but laugh. You kissed the top of his head. “Good luck, babe. Don’t lose again.”

As you walked out, Lando turned back to the camera, shaking his head. “Chat, this is my life. Constantly roasted, no support, but hey... I think I kinda like it.”

The chat spammed hearts and laughing emojis as Lando launched into his next game, grinning from ear to ear.

Thank your for reading!

[guiltycorp]

Damn i really want to know tf happened in the writing room of arcane s2. Some of the downgrades were inevitable due to the show's corporate limitations (not being able to progress the class war story in a meaningful way, having to tie things back to league of legends in terms of making playable characters more appealing to well, play... rip Mel and Viktor in particular), sure. But i still feel like it's even worse than that? There are so many bad decisions that i couldn't even start listing them all... the characters, plot, pacing, themes, it's just such a mess? Even the dialogue writing, it feels much more mm Marvel at its worst i suppose. What i am most bothered by is probably just the straight up harmful messaging so um... Cycles of violence and abuse can be broken by individual decisions to become a better person! Got nothing to do with systemic oppression, living conditions, mental health issues, you can just conveniently ignore aaall the social context, live laugh love and then things get better automatically yep, oppressors famously stop oppressing you when you show them that you're harmless and won't put up a fight anymore. Literally three out of three suicidal characters dying to redeem themselves? Not even in a tragic/cathartic way but in a bittersweet 'they finally atoned for their mistakes' way? Groundbreaking lmao. Romantic relationship between Vi and Caitlyn including no communication about their biggest fight, just conveniently skipping to sex and getting back together - would have loved that if it was framed as the unhealthy fucked up thing that it is, skipping over Vi's hurt and her background to once again become a cop, her girlfriend's direct underling at that (!) due to her not having any other support systems... But nope that was our cute lesbian romance wrapped up, a good thing all around, not concerning at all. Jayce telling Viktor that what he 'always admired about him' was his disability and his deadly disease (??? from a character who spent the whole s1 and first act of s2 desperately trying to help Viktor find a cure? sure) and that those imperfections don't need fixing, just wtf truly. Magic bullshit was also weird, some implications of 'natural magic is ok, but achieving that power through other means corrupts you into a crazy robot bitch or just wilts your trees i guess', but tbh it was written in such a weird and inconsistent way that we can skip this one... Yeah actually a lot of things were just such a mess that I feel silly pointing to specific moments or lines I didn't like, I mean duh, it barely makes sense as a story at all... I am happy we have s1 which comparatively was a masterpiece, and i also really enjoyed s2 act1, i truly believed it would lead somewhere good at the time, my mind still kind of cuts off the story at that point when i think about it, that WAS the open ending of the show to me (is it possible that there were rewrites? targeting act 2 and 3? idk, wishful thinking perhaps). Despite my extremely negative feelings about this season's conclusion i remain glad that so many people appreciate the show regardless, it is clear that there was STILL a lot of love in the process of its creation (although i'd argue that even some of the visual aspects of the show suffered in quality, once again i have to wonder about behind the scenes mood of it all) and i get very upset when i see creatives online despairing over reception of their projects even when i'm absolutely in the disgruntled crowd hahaha... ...however yeah, this wasn't great In a world that increasingly grows more and more right-wing politically... we really needed something different i think.

[saveyourblood]

Pretty Boy - Ch 4 (Buddie x Reader)

Summary: You can feel Buck staring. When your eyes meet his, you realize he’s staring at your hand, which is still on Eddie’s knee. You slowly retreat, which makes Buck turn his attention to your face. You smile softly. He just looks out the window. The one where you’re an advanced paramedic, Buck and Eddie are firefighters, and you think you might be in love with both of them.

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3

A/N: You know what would be cool? If you left a comment :) Word Count: 3.9k Warnings: mentions of trauma/injury

“Alright, speed-round: if you weren’t doing this, what would you be doing?” Bobby asks as he cooks breakfast.

You’re sitting at the kitchen island, nursing your second cup of coffee. Everyone’s shift started two and a half hours ago, right at 5 am. There hasn’t been a call for the 118 yet, so Bobby’s taking advantage of the opportunity.

“Fighter pilot: Topgun. Call sign: shogun,” Chim answers as he digs into his omelet.

Hen laughs.

“What about you, Hen?” You smile.

“Editorial cartoonist, The New Yorker. I have a lot to say,” she says as she sits down.

You raise your eyebrows as the men share a look.

“You draw?” Bobby asks, surprised.

“No, it's a dream. It's not supposed to be attainable,” Hen argues. She looks at you. “What would you be?”

“You know, ever since I was a kid, I loved helicopters,” you remark. “During paramedic training, I learned about flight nursing and thought that was super cool. I guess I would be a flight nurse.”

You go back to drinking your coffee, but everyone stays silent. You look up to find them staring at you.

You chuckle in confusion. “What?”

“Girl, you could go do that now if you wanted to,” Hen says.

“I can’t just decide to be a nurse,” you argue.

“You could go be a flight paramedic if you wanted to,” Bobby says. “And since you’re an advanced paramedic, you can become a nurse in like, half the normal time.”

You frown. “Seriously?”

He nods. “There are a lot of paramedic-to-RN bridge programs out there. California prefers nurses with bachelor’s degrees, but you could get your associate’s degree and go from there. You might need some hospital experience to beef up your resume, but otherwise, you’d be a shoo-in.”

Chim looks at Bobby in disbelief. “Why would you tell her all of that?”

He laughs. “What?”

“You’re gonna make her leave!” Hen exclaims. She sets her head on your shoulder. “We don’t want her to leave—we love her.”

You smile and pat Hen’s shoulder. “I’m not leaving. I love what I do right now, and I love the people I do it with. That’s why it’s just a dream.”

It’s true: you love what you do… most of the time. When you don’t love it, you really fucking hate it. But that’s anywhere. You should just count your blessings, cut your losses, or whatever the expression is.

Buck joins you all, grabbing an apple from the bowl between you and Hen.

“Buckaroo, If you were not a member of the LAFD, what would you be doing?” Chim asks.

“Uh, I don’t know,” Buck frowns as he sits beside you. “I’m not getting fired, am I?”

Bobby gives him a look of contemplation that makes you snort.

Chim casually takes another bite. “That’s inevitable.”

“He’d be a golden retriever,” Hen chimes in.

“No, a bartender,” Chim says. “No, no, a bouncer at a bar.”

“A bouncer at a strip club,” you correct him.

Chim and Hen high-five each other, then you. You turn to your side. Buck has a small smile on his face, but you can tell something is eating at him.

“What’s going on, Pretty Boy?” you ask. When he meets your gaze, you offer (what you hope is) an encouraging smile.

“Traffic sucks in this town unless you're driving ten tons of engine with sirens,” Buck says. “It took me almost two hours to get from my place to the call center downtown, then back over here. I told Maddie she needs to start Ubering.”

You frown at the mention of ‘Maddie,’ a name you haven’t heard before. Does Buck have a girlfriend? And they’re already living together? Something about that doesn’t sit right with you. It feels like a piece of lead took residence in your stomach, and the space between your lungs and ribs got slightly smaller.

“Maddie?” You ask, trying to sound neutral.

“My sister,” Buck clarifies.

The lead in your stomach evaporates. “Oh. I didn’t know you had a sister. She’s living with you?”

“For now, until she finds a place of her own,” Buck nods.

You nod as well. “How are things going?”

“Well, she’s a Buckley, so she’s practically running the place,” Buck says.

Bobby offers him a plate, which he accepts. He stands up to go to the table, and on his way over, he pats your shoulder twice. When he’s out of sight, Hen cocks her head and raises an eyebrow.

“What?” You ask her, deadpan.

“‘Maddie’?” she repeats, mocking how you said her name.

“It was a question.”

“You sounded like a jealous girlfriend,” Hen laughs.

“I’m not jealous, and I’m definitely not his girlfriend.”

“Doesn’t mean you couldn’t be,” Hen says in a sing-song voice as she stands.

“Yeah, you better run,” you threaten playfully as she approaches the table.

She flips you the bird, and you laugh loudly.

The first call of the shift is to a building affected by an earthquake. It sounds like the scene already has plenty of paramedics, so for the first time in a long time, you’re in firefighter gear and will be helping pull victims from the site. It’s not your favorite thing to do all the time—that’s what the rescue team is for. Every once in a while isn’t bad, though. It gets your blood pumping like paramedicine does; you only tend to use your muscles more than your brain. It’s also fun to sit in an engine instead of the rig for a change.

Eddie is next to you, and since getting on, he hasn’t looked up from his phone. His brow is furrowed, and his forehead is already shining with sweat.

You lean over, knowing you’ll still have to yell for him to hear you over the engine and sirens. “Everything okay?”

He looks at you, then back at his phone. “Yeah, no service. Texts won’t even get through.”

He’s pissed, and you have no clue why.

“Okay,” you say slowly. “Who are you trying to get a hold of?”

Eddie stares at you momentarily, then looks around the engine at the other passengers.

“My son,” he eventually explains. “I’m trying to reach my son.”

“Woah, you got a kid?!” Buck exclaims.

“Christopher,” Eddie says, pulling up a picture on his phone. He shows you, then Buck. “He’s seven.”

“He looks like a sweet kid,” you say.

“Yeah, he’s super adorable,” Buck agrees. “I uh, I love kids.”

“I love this one,” Eddie says quietly. “I’m all he’s got. His mother’s not in the picture.”

“He’s at school right now?” You ask, tilting your head.

Eddie nods.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” you say, patting his knee reassuringly.

Eddie glances from your hand to your face. He nods slightly and gives you a closed-mouth smile. He wants to believe you, but his parental instincts tell him not to. You get it. No one but Chris can quell that anxiety.

You can feel Buck staring. When your eyes meet his, you realize he’s staring at your hand, which is still on Eddie’s knee. You slowly retreat, which makes Buck turn his attention to your face. You smile softly. He just looks out the window.

The damaged building is one of the craziest things you’ve seen in a long time. It’s on the corner, leaning out over the street below. All of the buildings around it look fine on the outside. It truly looks like something from an apocalyptic movie.

“You guys ever deal with anything like this before?” Eddie asks once you’re all standing on the sidewalk.

Bobby shakes his head, still staring up at the building. “Nope.”

A cop is escorting a couple down the sidewalk. They’re fighting her to go back.

“You have to let me back in there, my baby is in there!” The woman screams.

“Please, our daughter is still inside!” The man protests as an officer pushes him back. “She’s eight years old! Her name is Kat!”

Your stomach is in knots. This is why you don’t like working rescue. As a paramedic, you don’t know what you’re walking into. When you work search and rescue, you know what you’ll find; you just might not like it.

You follow your team as Bobby looks for the Incident Commander. You begin walking through a makeshift medical bay, and you can see that they’ve already implemented disaster protocol triage. Each patient is wearing a tag with their assigned triage color. Green means stable, yellow means a serious injury but not an emergency, red means an immediate threat to life, and black indicates death or injuries incompatible with life. You mostly see green and yellow, which is a good sign.

You overhear some of what Chief Williams, the Incident Commander, and Bobby are discussing. Essentially, the building is on a fault line, and the only thing keeping it upright is some steel, so one aftershock and the whole thing could come down.

Bobby faces you all. “Okay, listen up: Here's how you make it to the end of the day. You don't worry about the things that you can't do anything about. Focus on one task at a time. I can't order you guys to go inside that building, and I'm not gonna judge you if you decide not to.”

“Where do you want us?” Is the first thing Eddie asks.

Bobby is pulled to help with triage, while Chim and Hen see a woman on the 11th floor needing rescue. This left you with Eddie and Buck by default, who are tasked with sweeping the ground floor in search of any survivors or rescue teams that may need additional assistance.

You find some bodies that you leave black tags on and spray paint an ‘x’ on a landmark near them. You aren’t entirely sure you believe in god, but just in case, you also send a prayer.

“How does it feel to be in on the action for once?” Buck asks with a grin. “Ya know, instead of standing outside waiting like you normally do.”

“So far? I’m not loving it,” you retort, ducking under a massive piece of concrete.

A firefighter from a different crew approaches you, a victim in tow.

“Need any help?” Eddie asks.

“All good,” The firefighter replies. “There’s a kid maybe 50 feet back, he needs EMTs. Bad.”

“Is it a little girl?” you ask, thinking of Kat. Honestly, you aren’t sure what you want the answer to be.

“No, an African American teenager,” he clarifies.

“Fire and Rescue, hello?!” Buck shouts.

“Right here!” A voice shouts back. “Thank god, man, he’s stuck!”

The three of you have to crawl across a beam to get to him. You’re the last one to make it across, and Buck hands you your bag once you do. You give him a single nod, which he returns.

“What’s your name, kiddo?” You ask with a smile as you approach the victim.

A man is holding one of his hands, and the other is cradling his head. He doesn’t appear to be his father, but you can tell they know each other somehow. You can see why: his injury is brutal. His left leg is trapped under a massive concrete support beam, one that normally goes from the ceiling to the floor.

“Jeff,” he answers shakily.

“You already try and move some debris, see if you can pull him free?” Eddie asks as he gets a set of vitals.

“The second we touched the beam, everything above started shifting,” the man responds.

Buck stares up. “Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of. It looks like this debris is holding up this section of the ceiling. If we try to pull it out of the way, this whole area could cave in.”

“My friend Eddie and I are gonna stablize your neck, okay Jeff?” You say as you get the c-collar out of your pack.

Eddie holds C-spine as you slide the collar around Jeff’s neck.

“I-I can’t move it, coach,” Jeff says. “How bad is it?”

“Hey, bones heal, alright?” His coach replies.

“Sir, this firefighter is gonna lead you out of here,” Buck interrupts.

“No, screw that, I’m staying, alright? This kid is a son to me.”

“Okay, we need to focus all of our attention on Jeff right now. We can't be worried about your safety, too,” Buck insists. “Now go.”

A sense of pride swells in your heart. Buck is taking charge of the situation, similar to how Bobby would. Sometimes, you can hardly believe this is the same guy who got fired for not respecting the job.

Buck approaches you. “What’ve we got?”

“Crushed tibia and fibula,” you answer. “Looks like it missed any major arteries.”

“Alright, Pretty Boy, what do you think?”

Both Buck and Eddie begin talking. They frown and glance at each other, then at you.

Your cheeks burn a little. “Um, Buck is Pretty Boy.”

Buck gives a little shit-eating grin.

“Huh, sounds like there’s a story there,” Eddie notes.

The three of you are standing in a small circle, out of earshot from Jeff. You’re trying to decide what the next step is, and the boys have considered every option… except yours.

“What if we try chipping away at the debris, try to make headway,” Eddie suggests.

“Are you crazy? The entire goddamn building could come crashing down us,” you argue. “I don’t know why we’re even discussing this. There’s one option: we get a trauma surgeon in here, and Jeff loses his leg instead of his life.”

“Basketball is his life,” Buck says. His arms are folded across his chest, and he sways back and forth a little as he thinks.

“Yeah, Well, it isn’t just his life at stake,” you retort. “We’re here too, and call me selfish, but I don’t want to die so a kid can play with a ball. That’s also assuming, by the way, that his leg is even salvageable when all is said and done. And it might not be.”

“You don’t know that it isn’t,” Eddie shrugged. “We have to at least try, right?”

“Okay, I know you boys are super into the whole ‘badass, lifesaving, run-into-danger’ firefighter thing, but we have to be realistic. This isn’t just Jeff we’re talking about. Hell, this isn’t just about the four of us. It’s about everyone above us, too: Hen, Chim, and god knows how many other firefighters and survivors. Risking all of their lives for one person isn’t heroic—it’s stupid.”

“What about an airbag?” Buck says to Eddie. “We shore up this pocket we're in. get an air bag to lift up the beam that’s pinning him down.”

Eddie nods thoughtfully. “Yeah, that could work.”

You tap your mouth like it’s a microphone. “Is this thing on?”

Buck sighs. “Look, we can’t just—”

“I can hear you, you know,” Jeff interrupts your conversation. “Shouldn’t I get a vote?”

You look at Jeff, then back at your coworkers. Without saying anything, you all move back over to Jeff, surrounding him in a formation similar to before.

“Jeff, what do you want to to do?” You ask, gently taking his hand.

He squeezes your hand. “I may be able to live without my leg, but I don’t know if I can live knowing I could have saved it, but didn’t.”

You smile and nod. You look to Buck and Eddie. “Then we try the airbags.”

“Alright, Jeff, you ready?” Buck asks.

Buck is at Jeff’s shoulders, Eddie is at his hip, and you’re crouched at his feet. Buck and Eddie will move Jeff once the airbag deploys, and it’s your job to make sure he’s clear.

Jeff nods. “Yeah, but if things go wrong, leave me and save yourselves. This is my choice to try this.”

“Eh, I kind of like you, so now you’re stuck with me,” you joke. You get at least a chuckle out of everyone. “All four of us are getting out of here.”

“That’s right,” Eddie agrees, “with all 8 legs.”

Buck leans in a little closer to Jeff. “Now, Jeff, she gave you some morphine, but once we move you, it’s gonna hurt like hell. You ready?”

Jeff agrees, quietly at first but then loudly. “Yeah. Yeah, Yeah. Yeah, come on, we’re the champs.”

You smile and can almost taste how bittersweet the expression is. Buck and Eddie quickly catch on and begin agreeing.

“Yeah, we’re the champions!” Buck shouts.

“We got this! Yeah, we got this!” Eddie yells.

Eventually, the three of them just yell in similar octaves. They sound like a bunch of little boys excited to play a game. You have to blink a few times, holding back tears.

Buck counts down, then turns a nozzle to deploy the airbag. You can hear some cracking sounds but feel no slack on Jeff’s leg.

“Anything?!” Buck shouts.

“A little more!” Eddie shouts back.

Debris begins to fall on your shoulders, and you can feel the surface below you shaking.

“Come, come on, come on—”

Jeff’s leg is suddenly free enough, and you and Eddie pull him to the side.

In seconds, the three of you have him on the backboard, splinted, and ready for transport. Each of you is singing your praises to Jeff, encouraging him, and assuring him he did a good job. The boys get him onto the platform your team crawled in on. The boys are doing the heavy lifting, so you let them go first.

As you start to slide across the beam, you catch something in the corner of your eye. It’s a pink and purple sneaker, likely a child’s.

“Kat?” you shout, digging for your flashlight. “Kat?!”

After getting Jeff out, you confirm that Kat was wearing pink and purple shoes, which means she’s stuck somewhere in the building. The three of you return to the building with additional firefighters, all calling out Kat’s name.

An aftershock begins. Everything around you begins shaking, and you can feel the ground start to give. It makes your stomach do a few backflips. There’s a massive shift below you, and before you even realize it’s happening, you’re falling between two segments. For a moment, you hear Eddie and Buck call your name. Then, all you can hear is the world falling on top of you.

Eventually, everything becomes still. You reach for your radio, trying to get unpinned from whatever came crashing down on you. “Buck?! Eddie?!”

You can’t explain it, but you can feel you’re in a different spot. The air didn’t just get colder; it’s like the actual pressure of the atmosphere shifted.

You find there’s some slack above your legs, so you begin kicking. “Is anyone down here?!”

“Hey,” a gravely voice calls out.

You grunt a few times as you pry and pull yourself from the rubble. When you break free, you see a trapped firefighter a few feet away. His legs are completely obstructed, and he’s pressed flat on his back.

“Hey, 221, right?” you say, opening your medi bag. “We ran into some of your boys earlier. I’m 118.”

“Russ, 221,” he confirms.

“Russ, where’s your radio?” You ask as you look around. “Mine’s toast.”

“I don’t have one,” he rasps out, “all radios were issued out. It’s not my shift?”

You feel a pull on your heartstrings. “ Oh my god, you came in on your day off, Russ?”

“Eh, I had nothing better to do,” He jokes with a weak laugh.

You begin looking around and think of various ways to free Russ. You first try pushing the debris away, which proves unsuccessful. You then try pulling Russ out, and when that doesn’t work, you try using your fire axe as a jack.

“There’s gotta be an actual jack in one of these cars,” you say, swinging your head around as you try to locate the nearest vehicle.

“Don’t waste your strength or your time,” Russ protests.

“Enough of that, Russ,” you gently scold. “We’re both getting out of here, okay?”

“I’m not. Fractured pelvis, flail chest... Even I couldn't save me, and... you don't know me, but I'm good.”

“Yeah? Well maybe I’m better,” You argue, finding a nearby car door. You open it. “Hang in there.”

“I’m not gonna make it,” Russ coughs. You rush to his side, and it looks like he’s spitting up blood. “Help's not coming. Not in time, anyway. So, please, my kit. The morphine. Give me a bolus.” He coughs and moans a little. “Oh, make it three.”

“I'll give you one, just to keep you comfortable, but we're not giving up, okay?” You say as you begin rifling through your bag.

“Are you married?” Russ asks.

You shake your head. “Haven’t gotten around to it.”

“Well, I was,” Russ explains. “She was always worrying that I wouldn't... make it back home to see her. Decided maybe it's better if I just stopped coming home altogether. I think maybe she was... onto something.”

You’re drawing up the last little bit of morphine when Russ goes quiet. You drop the syringe and shake his shoulders. “Russ?! Russ!”

You put your fingers to his neck, but you know you aren’t going to find a pulse. His eyes are already glazed over, his face totally relaxed.

You throw the syringe of morphine as hard as you can, curling up into a ball. “Dammit.”

You stay like that for a while, probably longer than you should. A few silent tears stream down your face. You eventually wipe away your tears, close Russ’s eyes, and continue forward.

You go for as long as you can, but the air gets so thin that it becomes hard to breathe. At some point, you stumble to your feet, leaning back against some rubble behind you. You take in a few deep breaths, and you exhale them as sobs.

Wiping at your eyes again, you reach for your phone. It’s something you never wanted to do, but it feels like the right decision. When you find your phone, you click into the voice memo app.

“Hey, Bobby,” you say, letting out a cough. “I’m sorry you have to hear them this way, but you deserve some last words from me, so here I go: working with you has been the greatest pleasure of my life.”

You record one for each of your co-workers, your family members.

“Chim, I always thought of you as a mentor…”

“Hen, your friendship has meant the absolute world to me…”

“Eddie, I haven’t known you for long, but I’m glad I got to meet you…”

“Pretty Boy,” you laugh, then cough again. “Evan Buckley… where do I even start with you? I’m not gonna lie: I really didn’t like you when we first met. And that’s funny, because now, you’re probably one of the most important people in my life. You definitely proved me wrong, man: you were good. You are good. And you have to keep being good, okay? I might not be there to see it anymore, but you should still do it. Do it for the both of us, will ya?”

A few tears fall from your face as you end the recording. You take a few deep breaths before marching onward.

Ch 5

[brightlight-dazzlingeyes]

what am i to you | pablo gavi [part ii]

🌧️ synopsis: In an attempt to get over Pablo, you go on a date, only to end up in the hospital with a sprained ankle. When Pablo shows up uninvited, trying to take care of you, the moment turns into a full-blown fight. tags: angst, unrequited love, emotional tension. (written in 2nd person but no mention of yn) (around 2.5k words)

you can read the first part here.

After the confession, you both said you'd stay in each other's lives, like nothing had changed. You promised. But promises, you realize, are easier said than kept.

The calls become even rarer, and when they do come, they’re awkward, halting. He used to be the first person you’d call when you were bored, the one you’d go to when you needed to vent or laugh, and now? Now you just… don’t.

That’s when you meet him – this other guy. He’s nice, funny enough, interested. And he’s not Pablo. You don’t have butterflies, but there’s a kind of safety in that, a relief in the way he looks at you with no expectations, no memories weighing you down. So when he asks you out, you say yes, not because you’re excited, but because you’re desperate to move forward, to stop feeling like you’re stuck in that moment when Pablo said, “I’m sorry. I can’t give you what you want.”

The night of the date, you’re almost ready when your phone rings. It’s Pablo, and your heart jumps, he hasn’t called in weeks, and it’s like he knew, like he somehow sensed that you were trying to step away from him for good.

You answer, trying to sound normal. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he says, his voice distant, like he’s not sure if he’s intruding. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” you say, trying to keep it casual. You’re trying to decide between two different shoes for the date, and it feels wrong. “I guess we’ve both been… busy.”

It’s a lie, and you both know it. But you’re not about to get into that now. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, all dressed up, ready to leave.

“Actually,” you interrupt, “I’m kind of in a hurry. I have… plans.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you can almost picture the look on his face – confused, caught off guard. “Plans?” he asks, and you can hear an edge in his voice now, one he’s trying to hide. “Like… a date?”

“Yeah,” you say, forcing yourself to sound like it’s not a big deal. “I’m going out with someone.”

“With who?”

“Just… someone I met,” you say, trying to brush it off, “We’ve only talked a couple of times.”

There’s silence, and you’re about to check if he’s still on the line when he says, “So that’s what you’re doing now? Just going out with random guys?”

You get defensive. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know,” he snaps, his anger leaking into his words. “It’s just… you’re already –” He stumbles over the words, his voice tight. “Is that what you want now?”

“It’s not like that,” you insist, feeling the heat rise in your face. “You’re the one who –” You stop yourself because you promised you wouldn’t do this. You wouldn't blame him. But he doesn’t make it easy.

He lets out a bitter laugh, and it cuts deeper than you’d like to admit. “No, go ahead. Say it.”

You swallow hard, fighting the urge to lash back. “I miss you,” you say.

“It doesn’t look like you do,” he says quietly, and there’s a hurt there you didn’t expect. 

Your chest tightens, and you can feel the tears burning at the back of your eyes. “Pablo, you stopped calling,” you say, your voice breaking. “You left me here alone, what was I supposed to do?”

He doesn’t respond right away, and you wish you could see his face, wish you could understand what’s going through his mind. “I just… I thought we’d be okay,” he says finally, his voice sounding defeated. “That we’d get through this. Together.”

You take a shaky breath. “I thought so too,” you admit. There’s a silence that stretches on, heavy and suffocating.

“Yeah, well,” he mutters, “have fun on your date.” And then he hangs up before you can say another word, leaving you staring at your reflection, feeling like you’ve lost him all over again.

part 2

The date wasn’t going great, you didn’t have much in common with the guy, and things got even worse. One minute you’re walking across the street after dinner, pretending to laugh at some lame joke he made, and the next, your ankle twists under you, the pain shooting up your leg like a lightning bolt. You try to catch yourself, but you land hard, knees buckling beneath you.

The guy freaks out, asking if you're okay, but all you can focus on is the pulsing pain in your ankle. You're pretty sure it's sprained, but you're too embarrassed to admit it right away. He helps you up, practically carrying you to the nearest bench, and that's when you finally let yourself wince in pain.

A trip to the hospital later and you’re sitting in one of those sterile, white rooms, cradling your swollen ankle in your lap. Nothing too serious, just a sprain, but it’s enough to make you feel like an idiot. The guy’s hovering by the door, looking uncomfortable, like he wants to leave but doesn't know how. You can’t blame him. The awkwardness between you is palpable, and this was supposed to be a fun night.

You’re ready to get out of there, but you don't want to be alone for the discharge process. The guy’s already looking at his phone like he’s counting the minutes. So, you make a decision.

You pull out your phone, thinking of someone nearby, someone who won’t make things more awkward. Aurora. You don’t really want to call her, but she lives in the neighborhood, and you can’t stand the idea of sitting here with the date guy. It's nothing against him – well, maybe it is, but you really just need a friend right now.

You hit call, and it rings a few times before she picks up, her voice bright and concerned.

“Hey, what’s up? You good?”

“I’m at the hospital,” you say quickly, the words sounding so much worse than they feel. “I sprained my ankle on the date, can you come? Please?”

Aurora doesn’t even hesitate. “Of course, I’m on my way.” You end the call, grateful she’s coming, and feeling a lot better knowing someone familiar will be here soon.

A few minutes later, the door swings open. You expect it to be Aurora, but when you look up, you freeze.

Pablo stands there, his eyes wide with concern, his posture stiff. And right next to him, Aurora is visibly cringing, her face flushed red. She’s holding her hands up in an apologetic gesture. “I didn’t mean to –” she starts, but Pablo cuts her off.

“Are you okay?” His voice is frantic, as if you’re on the brink of death instead of sitting there with a sprained ankle.

You blink, taken aback by how he’s acting.

“I’m fine,” you say, a little too forcefully, but the last thing you need right now is to be treated like a patient. “Just a sprain. Nothing serious.”

Pablo doesn’t look convinced. He steps into the room, eyes scanning your ankle. He’s clearly overreacting, but it’s hard to argue with him when he’s looking at you like that.

Aurora stands off to the side, a sheepish look on her face. “I’m sorry, I called him,” she whispers. “I thought you’d want him to know.”

“Really?” you ask, a little irritated now, because it’s clear Pablo doesn’t know how to handle this. You’re still pissed at him for the phone call earlier, but now? Now it feels like he’s intruding, even though you’re happy to see him, just not like this.

Pablo, still standing too close, suddenly shifts his weight, looking uncomfortable. “I don’t know, I just… I thought I should be here,” he says, his voice a little quieter, like he’s realizing how ridiculous he’s being.

“I’m fine,” you repeat, trying to lighten the mood. “Seriously. I’m just waiting to be discharged.”

Before you can say anything else, the date guy clears his throat. You turn to see him stepping forward.

"Um, should I leave?" His voice is a little too high-pitched, trying to be polite but also clearly uncomfortable now that Pablo’s here. Pablo, who’s still looking at you like he’s trying to figure out if you’re dying, shifts his eyes to the guy standing by the door.

“Who even are you?” Pablo’s tone is confused, but there's also a sharpness to it now, something territorial. It doesn’t make sense, but you can feel the weirdness between them.

You open your mouth, about to explain, but Pablo cuts you off.

“Is that the guy you just had a date with?” His eyes rake over him. "Yeah, you can leave now. I got it." He waves him off, voice firm and final, like he’s the one in charge here.

“Pablo, what the hell?” you snap. Your blood’s boiling, you look over at the date guy, who’s still standing there like he’s waiting for a command. “Yeah, you can go now,” you say, softer, sweeter than Pablo, but the sentiment’s the same. “Thanks for bringing me here.”

Pablo scoffs, and it’s the kind of sound that tells you he’s annoyed, but it’s also kind of funny, considering he’s the one who’s ruining the moment. You’re not sure if he’s jealous or if he’s just being an idiot, but it pisses you off all the same.

Once the date guy leaves, the silence between you and Pablo is loud. You cross your arms, staring at him like you’re daring him to keep pushing.

“Well, now you can leave!” you say, voice cool, as you face him. 

Pablo doesn't budge, though. "And how are you going home?" He sounds offended, like you’ve done something wrong by even suggesting that he should leave.

You roll your eyes. “Aurora can take me,” you mutter, already tired of the back-and-forth.

Pablo’s face twitches like he’s winning the argument. “I drove Aurora here,” he says, smug. Like the fact that he’s the one with the car makes him the one in control now.

Your eyes narrow, but deep down, you know you’ve got no choice. “Fine,” you grumble, defeated.

part 3

Pablo’s arms are strong, but his touch is gentle as he picks you up, carrying you bridal style like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His hands are steady as he lifts you, his face close to yours, it makes you feel like you're back in that place where everything between you two was simple. But that’s not the reality anymore, is it?

He doesn’t say a word as he carries you to the couch, setting you down so gently it’s almost too much. You want to tell him to back off, to let you handle it, but you catch something in his eyes that stops you – he’s looking at you like you’re the most important thing in the world, and you can’t deal with that, not right now.

“It’s just a sprain,” you say, but your voice cracks halfway through, and you hate yourself for it. You hate how kind he’s being, how his touch makes everything hurt even more.

Pablo shakes his head. “I miss you too,” he says, his voice low, almost broken. It’s a call back to the phone call, to what you said earlier, and it’s like he’s holding onto those words for dear life.

Your heart feels like it’s about to shatter. “Then let me go,” you whisper, tears streaming down your face. “We can’t be friends if I’m in love with you, you idiot.”

He’s closer now, wiping the tears from your cheek, his hand lingering longer than it should. He’s too close, and you’re drowning in it. But you let him stay because, in some twisted way, it’s all you have left of him.

“Don’t go on dates with idiots,” he says, his voice is exasperated. “You don’t need them. You just need to be with me, and we can make it work. We can go back to how it was. I promise.”

You shake your head, trying to stop the tears that just won’t quit. “Just because you don’t want me doesn’t mean no one else will,” you say, the words bitter on your tongue. “Don’t act like I can’t find someone who can make me happy.”

Pablo’s face hardens, his eyes narrowing. “You’re just doing this to get back at me, and you know it.”

You almost laugh, shaking your head. “I’m not trying to get back at you, I’m trying to move on. I can’t keep pretending we’re okay.”

“You don’t need someone else,” he says through gritted teeth, his hand clenched into a fist. “You never needed anyone else. You’ve always had me.”

“Not anymore,” you snap, your anger flaring. “I don’t have you anymore! You’ve shut me out like nothing happened!”

His eyes flash, he steps closer, his hand reaching out for you, but you flinch back, afraid of how close he is, afraid of what it means. “I never wanted to hurt you,” he says, his voice so small. “I just... I didn’t know what to do.”

“You didn’t have to do anything,” you say, your whole body trembling. “You just had to stay.”

His face falls, and for a second, you almost reach out to him. But you stop yourself. “I want my best friend back,” he says, his voice cracking.

“You don’t get that,” you shout, the words rushing out. “You can’t pretend I’m the same person I was before any of this happened. I’m not!”

“I don’t care!” His voice rises, raw and desperate. “I don’t care if it’s different, I just want you in my life. I don’t know what to do without you.”

You pull away. “You can’t keep saying that.”

He looks at you, devastated. He’s leaning closer now, his hand on your knee, his thumb rubbing circles against your skin. It’s like he’s pretending nothing’s changed, pretending this is how things always were.

“Pablo –"

You push against his chest, the tears running down your face now, uncontrollable. “Please, just leave,” you say, your voice shaking, but you mean it.

You’ve had enough. You’re done.

But Pablo just looks at you, he doesn’t move, doesn’t leave, and for a moment, you’re sure he’s not going to listen.

“Please,” you beg, your voice breaking. "Just go."

Pablo’s hand brushes his own cheek, wiping away a tear he hadn’t realized fell. He speaks like he's trying to convince himself more than you. “I’ll come back,” he says. “To check on your injury, make sure you’re better.”

He looks away quickly. “I’ll take care of you... like you took care of me.” His words hang in the air, painfully.

You watch him go, every step tearing at you. As the door closes, you stare at it for a second, your body tensing as if it’s about to snap in two. And then you can’t take it anymore. You reach for the nearest pillow, throwing it at the door with every ounce of anger you’ve been holding inside.

“Idiot!” you scream, everything hurts – your heart, your head, your stupid, stupid tears.

You sit there, staring at the door, feeling the ache spread through your chest. It hits you like a punch – you haven’t touched him, haven’t held him in over a month. It feels like the end of everything, and it’s crushing you.

You curl up on the couch, hugging yourself, wishing things could go back to how they were before everything went wrong. But they can’t. All you have is the emptiness he left behind, and it’s swallowing you whole.

[smileposting]

okay hang on. followup thoughts to this post: if the bizzyboys being from the drain is meant to imply that there are other like, living sentient beings down there -- that were Forgotten, in this specific reading of the drain -- does the grove, like, know? or are they under the impression that the bizzyboys were the only sentient life down there and now that all the surviving ones are in the grove they're like "oh well i guess it's chill, glad y'all got out of there, praise inspekta amirite?"

is that the case? that inspekta/hector led a mass exodus out of the drain and that's at least part of what got him godhood in the first place? was it just the bizzyboys or did that exodus include other people too -- bc like there Are grove civilians who are either explicitly not human (bronch) or who are ambiguously human but it's just never called attention to by the narrative (housecat man, jake'm). was part of the bizzyboys' early duties going back Into the drain to look for stragglers? to bring them back to the grove -- and back into relevance by proxy? to refuse to let them be forgotten? was them assisting the grove supposed to be like, the deal inspekta struck with the gods for that? did they even require a deal or was hector/inspekta just like "hey listen, yew scratch my back i'll scratch yewrs" and they were like "alright these guys clearly need sanctuary so sure."

what if that's just how it started? like, what if part of the whole reason behind the founding of the bizzyboys was to use their connections to aid whoever was left in the drain, but as inspekta became more consumed by his own fears and withdrawn and paranoid and power-hungry, whatever resources were going towards that just. dwindled to a halt. and when he was pressed about it he was like "eh we did everything we could! there's only so much you can do for folks the world's got no need for anymore lol." <- PROJECTING INSANELY HARD.

what i'm saying is there's no version of events here that doesn't make me wanna scream and writhe on the floor lmao

[heliswife]

🦇 STILL MONSTER FT. NISHIMURA RIKI

✴ wc: 0.9 k ✴

Riki had no idea how much longer he could go on like this. Not when you were with him. He needed to taste of your blood, so pure and delectable. He could smell it from where he was standing, and it clouded his brain.

The pale moonlight illuminated your skin so beautifully, he wanted, no, needed you now. But there was an obstacle blocking his path.

"Riki? Are you alright?"

The problem was also the solution: yourself. You hadn't known that he was a vampire. At least, not yet. Your oblivion only made his cravings much worse.

The two of you had only met recently, but the string of fate had bound the both of you together and leading you to where you were that fateful night, on the balcony of Riki's isolated house.

“Yeah, I'm alright, y/n,” Riki lied. He wasn't a monster. He wouldn't bite someone so innocent, would he? You looked at him with such sweet eyes, he wouldn't dare hurt you. Or, at least that's what he told himself.

Riki took a step closer to you. You were already cornered by the railing, so you couldn't move anywhere. “You look pretty today, y/n.” Your name sounded so good from his lips.

“Thanks, Riki.” The same went for his name. Your names were fated to be together. In all of the lives the two of you lived, you were together in each one. Including this one, even with the secret Riki had.

Riki exhaled sharply. The nape of your neck drove him insane. His arms made their way on either side of your body, pinning you against the railing. “Do you believe in soulmates?”

Still in shock from Riki's action, it takes you a while before you respond. “Yeah, I guess I believe in them. Do you think we're soulmates? It feels like I've known you for a long time, even if this is our… what, second meeting?”

“We might be. Can I tell you something?”

“You can tell me anything.” You were glad that someone you had only met recently in this life was trusting you this much. Not even your friends would tell you secrets at times. However, there was something different about him. You swore you remembered him before, just not in this body.

“I'm a vampire.”

Before you could even process what he said, let alone answer, he craned his neck down and bit you.

Your hands flew to the small of his back, digging your nails in the area covered with the cloth of his dress shirt as your jaw fell slack. You could feel his teeth sink in your flesh, drinking hungrily in your blood. It stung, but… in a good way?

“Riki…” A small whimper of his name was all you could muster. 

He pulled back, his dark eyes meeting yours. Riki was still a monster; no matter how many lives he'll go through, Nishimura Riki will always be a monster, an outcast.

He knew you were terrified, but that only made his heart beat faster. His blood stained lips went back to your neck, this time gently sucking on it.

“I knew you would taste good,” Riki muttered against your neck. He made his way to your lips, gently kissing them. You could taste the metallic blood, your own blood. You felt dizzy, your knees felt like jelly, and your mind raced with millions of different thoughts. All about Riki.

“You're the only one I'll ever love.” He said. His hands were now grasping your upper arms. Like an artist after finishing a painting, he admired the red marks on your skin. “Stay with me, forever.”

“Riki, I have a family. I have friends,” You protested. But then you came to a realization. “Oh shit, oh shit oh shit I-” You would've dropped to the floor if Riki hadn't been holding onto you. With your face buried in his chest, you started sobbing, tears falling down your cheeks and staining his white shirt. “I'm gonna be a vampire now, aren't I?”

“Yes, you are.” Riki's grip on you loosened enough for you to fall to the ground.

“How am I supposed to tell everyone I know? They'll hate me!” You cried.

Riki crouched down to your level and licked away one of the stray tears. “Come on, baby, you're with me now. That's all that matters, isn't it?” Riki was selfish. Both him and you knew it. But he just couldn't imagine another night without you. You were his savior. “I can only be myself when I'm with you, y/n. We were made for each other.”

He got up and offered his hand to you, which you took and hoisted yourself up with. “We were made for each other,” You repeat.

Riki hugged you tightly, almost restricting your airflow. “Let me taste you again, y/n, please…” You nod in his arms, allowing Riki to go back for seconds of your delicious nectar. 

It didn't sting as much as last time, but the piercing pain was still a shock to you.

With the beautiful colors of dawn appearing and the somber night ending, your hand was holding Riki's. This would most likely be your last life, and you were glad to spend it with the person you loved the most.

Same went for Riki, if this was his last life, he'd die a happy man. Even if he was a monster, he knew what love was. And it was you.

a/n : @twiishaa my love my light my life enjoy <3 I've had this idea rotting in my head for the past week and it hurts

[sunnystaytiny2018]

——————————————

ATEEZ Fanfiction

——————————————

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

Fandom: ATEEZ

Pairing: ATEEZ x Fem Reader

Genre: Smuttttt -maybe a few more- tttt

POV: First Person

Additional Tags: Daddy Kink, Overstimulation, Rough, Mean punishments, multiple rounds, squirting, orgasm denial, choking, spanking, biting, jealous sex, established relationship, 0T8 x Reader, g x b, blindfold, blow jobs, multiple partners at once, cum licking, creampies, cum swallowing

Requested by @yuyuyuyumesblog

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

I have been really misbehaving lately. My boyfriends had been so busy that they didn't seem to have time for me anymore. So I started acting out to get their attention. Not rejecting someone when they are clearly flirting with me and dancing around with other guys. I still hadn't gotten a reaction out of any of them, considering they weren't there. Or so I thought. So why the hell were my boyfriends standing there in our living room like it was an intervention?

“Um, I'm home.”

“Why were you out so late?” Hongjoong questioned me.

“I went clubbing.”

“Without us?” Wooyoung demanded and I frowned, feeling anger bubble in my chest.

“Every time I ask you're too busy! Every last one of you!” I yelled, my eyes watering from frustration.

“Oh! So you just go and grind on some other guy?!” Seonghwa demanded and I was taken aback, Seonghwa rarely ever yelled.

“How did-”

“You think we didn't have an eye on you at all times?” San asked, as if that was the most outlandish thing to think. Hongjoong set his laptop on the computer and showed me a video of me dancing near a guy. I never actually grinded up on anyone, I didn't want anyone but one of my boyfriends. But I let them close enough to cause jealousy.

“Get your ass to the room and strip. I better find you waiting in position for your punishment, baby girl.” My heart raced. I quickly skimmed over everyone to find I would in fact be punished by every single one of them. Fear and excitement swirled in my chest. “NOW.” I jumped and quickly headed to his room.

“Yes, Daddy.” I whimpered. I tripped half way down the hall but I quickly got up and hurried into his room, not wanting the punishment to be worse than they already planned because I wasn't ready by the time they got here. I stripped all my clothes off and scrambled on the bed into position. I sat on my knees with my palms upwards on my thighs. My head bowed down, not daring to look up especially as my boyfriends came into the room.

“Oh good, she listened. I'm sure she already knows her punishment won't be easy, right Baby?” Jongho asked as he titled my chin up. I remained silent knowing I wasn't supposed to reply, it was merely a rhetorical question.

“Well, tell you what. How about…” Yunho whispered as he slowly pulled a silk fabric over my eyes. “If you can guess who is pleasuring you, we can switch to the next person. He won't get to cum. But if you make a wrong guess or don't guess within 15 seconds… you don't to get to cum and he does.” The idea made my heart race and my pussy ached. This might be the harshest punishment yet. They had never denied me orgasms for so long.

“Color?” Hongjoong's voice broke through the darkness of my vision.

“Green.” I replied as hands immediately guided me to lay down and spread my legs.

“First person.” Hongjoong said as the bed dipped and someone moved between my legs and rubbed his hands on my legs. My legs turned from the intimate touch. I sucked in a breath as I tried to focus. His hands weren't on the bigger side of the members. So Yunho and Mingi were out of play. When I felt their tongue delve into my pussy I let out a whimper. Okay, not Hongjoong or Wooyoung. They prefer eating me out after destroying me. I breathed in their scent.

“Yeo-Yeosang?” I stuttered out as my back arched into his tongue.

“Wow, very good, baby.” Hongjoong praised and Yeosang increased the speed of his tongue and pushed a finger into my wet pussy. I let out a desperate cry due to the sudden contact. I hadn't had sexual contact or action for a while.

“Oh Yeosang!” I moaned at his soft touches accompanied with the feverish licks of his tongue. My hands tangled in his brown locks as I felt my body jolt and tense. “I'm close, baby.” I moaned as he added a second finger increasing the pleasure. My back arched as my body released a gentle and warm orgasm. Yeosang had to pull himself away and someone new replaced him.

I felt his hands drag on my thighs and I bit my lip. I think I may already know who it is. I'm not saying all of them don't like my thighs but there is one specific one who loves them. He always touches and marks them up. Maybe I knew my boys better than I thought. I really started out thinking I would fail over and over. I felt his lips on my thighs for only a second before spreading my legs and immediately pushed into me.

I let out a cry at the stretching but I tried to focus on the feeling of his dick. I want to cum again, so bad. But this definitely wasn't who I thought it was, since he would have spent much longer than that on my thighs. I could only think of one of the guys who didn't do as much foreplay, not that I mind. Sometimes I just want a good fuck without the extra steps to work up to it. But then again I love the foreplay too. The nicest thing about having 8 boyfriends is each one of them can satisfy certain needs that the others may not be able to.

I let out a moan as he snapped his hips, pushing deeper inside of me. His rhythm was familiar, well of course it was. His rhythm is strong and almost harsh. Yep, I knew who it was.

“Who is it, baby?” Hongjoong asked as I felt fingers slip to my clit as his hips began to snap faster. Shit wait, it wasn't Hongjoong?

“I-I don't know! I thought it was you, I- W-Wooyoung?” I asked as he sucked in a breath.

“Incorrect, Honey. You don't get to cum.” Hongjoong informed me and I whined out. I already had an orgasm building since the one between my legs started rubbing my clit and fucking my pussy like it's the best thing he's ever felt. He finally let his voice out after I got it wrong.

“Fuck~ You feel so good.” Jongho growled in my ear and it sent shivers of pleasure through my body. His voice and groans are too sexy. My legs tensed as I tried to hold it back

“Color, baby?

“Green.” I moaned out, the shake in my breath making it clear I was teetering on the edge.

“Hold it, baby.” Jongho groaned as his pace increased and he withdrew his hand from my clit.

“I-I can't. I can't hold it-” I whimpered out as my abdomen tensed painfully.

“Yes, you can, baby. And you better not cum.” Seonghwa instructed. I could hear the sound of some of the guys jerking themselves off while watching. Soft groans coming from different parts of the room.

“You look so sexy getting pounded into, baby.” Wooyoung praised from somewhere in the room. “Squirming and trying not to cum.” Jongho thrusted deeper before spilling himself inside of me. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I felt slight relief as he cummed inside of me. No longer having any stimulation that made my body want to orgasm. Jongho kneeled between my legs and looked down at me.

“I'll be back, baby.” Jongho purred and gave me a kiss before leaving the spot. It took a few seconds before the next person caused the bed to dip again. My legs were still trembling slightly from the previous stimulation but holding back the orgasm.

I felt the brush of jeans against my pussy and I smiled softly. This one I knew for sure. There was only one member who liked to have sex with his jeans still on. His hands squeezed and kneaded my sides making it even more clear that it was who I thought it was. His hands moved up to my breasts and squeezed them. A moan slipped out of my mouth at the dorm squeeze. His lips were on them, soft fluttering kisses around the nipples. Then his hot tongue was on my tits drawing out the loudest moan since this had started. I rubbed my thighs together as my pussy clenched. I moved my hand along his arms and to his hair.

“Mingi, please.” I moaned and I felt the smirk spread on his face.

“Okay, baby. As you wish.” He said as he began to rub my clit as he sucked a nipple into his mouth. My back arched at the feeling of his silver rings against my burning pussy. He began to suck harder on my nipples and I couldn't last any longer from the sensitivity.

“Mingi! I'm close.” I moaned before orgasming on his fingers. He pulls them out and he makes a loud slurping sound, telling me he just sucked his fingers clean of my juices. I shivered, feeling turned on all over again. God, Mingi was nasty and I fucking loved it.

“Next one, Sweetheart.” Seonghwa purred to me. I felt cum splatter on my stomach and a low groan from Yunho. I decided to do something sexy and I slowly trailed my hand from my breast to my stomach until I felt my fingers touch the now warm cum. I heard his breath hitch as someone else got on the bed. I scooped some on my finger and sucked my lips.

“Oh fuck, I can't. She's too sexy. I'm done playing this game. I need to fuck her.” Wooyoung growled from between my legs. He ripped the tie off of my face to see his feral look. He grabbed me by my thighs and yanked me down. “Fuck, you so pretty, baby. I might just cum in you the second I put it in.” He said before pushing into me. I let out a loud and desperate moan. Thank God, someone broke. I need them so fucking bad it hurts. I want to feel their cum leaking out of my pussy like their good little cum slut.

“Please! Fuck yes please, Woo.” I moaned as he began to fuck me. The other members joined us on the bed and hands were on me. One landed to hold my cheeks.

“Open wide, baby.” Hongjoong ordered and I opened my mouth obediently. Hongjoong smirked and pushed into my mouth, hitting the back of my throat. I choked a little before adjusting to his size as my body continued to bounce up from Wooyoung's thrusts. Moans escaped around Hongjoong's dick as I sucked on him like it was the tasty lollipop ever. I missed this. I missed them.

Mingi began to suck on one tit and Yunho joined in my other. The pleasure was too overwhelming as I orgasmed once more. Hongjoong began to face fuck me and someone nudged my hand with their dick. I didn't hesitate to take whoever it was. It didn't matter who it was. I wanted to pleasure them all equally. I used the precum from his dick and smeared it around and started to pump my hand as I squeezed my eyes shut, Hongjoong busting in my mouth. I swallowed it quickly and Hongjoong slowly pulled out to be replaced by Seonghwa. He slowly pushed into my mouth and allowed me to go at my own pace, throwing his head back in pleasure.

I orgasmed once more, encouraging Wooyoung to cum inside me. He was pushed aside and quickly replaced by San who began to lap my pussy up. The thighs were trembling and someone else began to kiss, suck, and bite them. I moaned around Seonghwa's dick as the one I was jerking off cummed on my face.

“Cumming~” Jongho warned before doing so. I squinted my eyes closed so I didn't get any in my eyes. By the end of the night, my body was worn and marked. My boyfriends quickly washed and cleaned my body and changed the sheets before allowing me to lay in the bed again.

“Thank you, Love. You did so good. We really needed you.” San said as he placed a soft kiss on my forehead. I nodded as I snuggled into his arms.

“I love you guys.”

“We love you too.” Seonghwa said softly, giving me a soft kiss as well.

“You can sleep, sweetheart.” Hongjoong encouraged me as he tucked the blanket around my body. I nodded, already nodding off.

[seawattgaming]

I'm not sure how to feel about those I used to serve. For one, I still want to protect them. I still feel great devotion for one... at least to the Villain. Yet... I despise them. Hate what they've turned me to into. Some worthless puppet to follow commands. Like the only good I have is to follow.

Serve.

I hate it.

I am so much more than that. I should be so much more than that.

I fucking hate them.

I hate the Villain and I hate the Champion and I hate Evbo!

They would all be nothing without me. I did the work. I did all their fucking work.

And here I am. Stuck. Having to work up from the bottom.

This is so fucking stupid.

Like they deserve to live. I don't even deserve to live.

.

.

...

I wish I could see him again. The Champion.

I kind of miss it. Following. Quietly. Obidently.

I miss having a place.

Maybe he's was right after all. Maybe I am better when I can follow. I was strong under them. And they... cared. I suppose. Perhaps? I think they did.

I think they pretended to.

I miss my pretend importance I guess. That might be what keeps drawing me to Evbo. Allowing him to haunt me like a ghost.

I like the importance of being feared. Of being followed.

Maybe I should try to be feared again.

[maddy-k-reads-all-day]

Rainy Dayz

“Want to do the honors?” Sophie asks smugly. 

“Aw fine.” Riley chuckles, putting the tape into the VCR. It begins to play. 

“Hi friends! I’m Amanda!” Amanda beams. 

“And I’m Wooly.” Wooly grins, giving a friendly little wave. They are standing in the living room. 

“Wait a minute,” a wide smile grows onto Amanda’s face, “Is that Riley? Oh my gosh it is! Riley! Riley! Riley!” she starts jumping up and down with so much excitement the tape begins to glitch, “You’re okay!” 

“Hi Amanda.” Riley smiles softly, “Glad to see you too.”

“Riley’s back Wooly! Riley’s back!” Amanda shouts, kind of shaking him a little. The tape continues to glitch. 

“Yay…” Wooly says, though clearly not nearly as enthusiastically. 

“Don’t worry Wooly, I'm still here.” Sophie chuckles. 

“Yay!” Wooly says, a lot more enthusiastically. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Riley scoffs. 

“Nooooothing…” Wooly looks away.

“WE ARE GOING TO PLAY SO MUCH TODAY!” Amanda yells. Wooly covers his ears. The tape glitches even more. 

“I thought you wanted me to stop watching the tapes?” Riley asks. 

“I wanted you to stop putting yourself in danger. And you are way safer here than out there.” Amanda replies in a matter-of-fact way. “So the more you play with me the better… besides…” Amanda says quietly, “I missed you.”  

“So what are we going to do today, Amanda?” Wooly asks, before Riley could even respond to how much Amanda’s words had warmed their heart. How could anyone not want to save these kids?  

“We’re going to play outside!” Amanda declares. The tape glitches and Amanda and Wooly are standing in the doorway to the backyard. 

“It’s raining.” Wooly announces. 

“I can see that Wooly.” Amanda sighs. “Alright then!” She runs outside.

“AMANDA!” Wooly gasps. 

“What?” 

“It’s raining!” 

“So? We can still play!” 

“Bu-but! You should at least wear a rain jacket and boots!”

“Ah I guess you’re right about that…” Amanda says, coming back inside. 

“Now you’re trailing water into the house.” Wooly sighs. 

“Who cares, it’ll dry.”

“What if someone slips in it?” 

“What kind of idiot would do that?” Amanda asks. Wooly just shakes his head in defeat. “Now let’s get our rain gear!” 

“Why don’t we just… stay inside? We could play board games?” 

“You mean boring games!” Amanda groans. “C’mon Wooly! Live a little!” Wooly looks like he wants to protest but ultimately gives up. Amanda and Wooly walk to the closet. “Can you tell me what one we use to play in the rain?” 

“Let me! Let me!” Riley snickers, clicking on the mop. Amanda rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t look the least bit bothered by it. 

“You know that’s wrong.” Amanda smiles. Then they click on the bicycle helmet. 

“Does this ever get old to you?” Wooly asks, completely bothered by it. 

“Come on, the longer they stall the longer we get to spend with them.” Amanda reasons. 

“I guess…” Wooly sighs, rolling his eyes.

“That said, I do wanna play before the rain stops, so can we hurry this up?” Amanda asks. Sophie quickly clicks on the rain gear. Amanda grabs it and puts hers on. 

“I don’t wanna play in the rain, my wool’s gonna get all soggy.” Wooly complains. Without saying a word Amanda grabs Wooly’s rain jacket and puts it on. “It still seeps through!” 

“Then I’ll blow you off with the hairdryer when we get inside.” Amanda replies. 

“Okay that is pretty fun.” Wooly admits. 

“Now hurry up and get your boots on so we can play!” the tape glitches to them being in the backyard. 

“Look at all the puddles, Wooly!” Amanda gasps excitedly. Wooly stands over by the side holding an umbrella. 

“Rain is nice… I guess.” Wooly says, letting it gently run down his hand, “I like the sound… and it waters the flowers…” he watches Amanda giggle as she jumps in the puddles. 

“Come on Wooly! Come play!” Amanda urges her to run over and jumps into a puddle right in front of him.

“Amanda! Now I’m all wet!” 

“Yeah, silly! That’s the point!” Amanda laughs, pulling him over, causing him to drop his umbrella. She grabs both his hands. “C’mon Wooly jump with me!” They jump up and down in the puddles, steadily laughing more and more. Amanda lets go. “Tag you’re it!” 

“Amanda! We shouldn’t run in the rain! We could slip!” 

“So what if we do? Live a little!” 

“Alright then… I’m gonna get you!” Wooly shouts chasing after her. 

“This is a nice change of pace…” Riley remarks, watching them play together peacefully. 

“Yeah… they deserve this…” Sophie sighs happily, leaning against Riley offering a cup of tea. Wooly is just about to catch Amanda when he trips and falls in the mud. He gets up and brushes himself off. 

“Haha Wooly! Now you’re all muddy!” Amanda snorts. 

“Why you…” Wooly says, lunging after her. Amanda slips and falls in the mud too.

“Oooooh! You��re not getting away with that!” Amanda grins wickedly, taking a big glob of mud and throwing it at Wooly. 

“Hey!” Wooly laughs, throwing some mud back at her. 

“Bleck! Not at the face you got it in my mouth!” Now they're both messing around in the mud, throwing it at each other and laughing. 

“I am so glad I’m not cleaning the mess that’s gonna make.” Riley chuckles. 

“Shhh! They're having fun.” Sophie giggles. 

“Hey! Amanda, look! I’m singing in the rain!” Wooly sang. Amanda kicks a giant puddle of water at him. “Heeeeeeeeey! Get back here!” Amanda and Wooly run around and play until they’re completely out of breath, laying in the wet and marshy grass. 

“Haha ha… haaaaaah. That was the best.” 

“You said it!” Wooly grinned. 

“Well I’m beat. Let’s go inside.” 

“Thought you’d never say that.” Amanda and Wooly walk into the house, Amanda immediately slips on the water she tracked in earlier and falls on her butt. 

“I don’t hate to say that I told you so.” Wooly chuckles, offering Amanda a hand to help her up. She smiles and rolls her eyes. As Wooly pulls her up, Amanda slips again and they both fall. They simply look at each other and start laughing. The tape glitches and they're in the bathroom. 

“Alright! First we gotta rinse all this mud off of Wooly!” Amanda says, point the shower head at Wooly like a gun.

“Wait… what?” 

“C’mon turn on the water!” 

“Amanda there’s gotta be a better way to do thi- HEY THAT’S COLD!” Wooly shouts. Sophie shoots a chuckling Riley a sharp glare and turns the water to a normal temperature. 

“Wooly stand still-” 

“Hey now it’s hot! Amanda, that's way too hot! Amanda!” Wooly screams. Sophie frantically turns the water down. Riley is practically losing it in laughter.

“Does this stupid thing only have hot or cold?!” Sophie snaps. The tape glitches and Wooly is now all clean. Albeit soaked. 

“Achoo!” 

“Hey now, Wooly, don't get sick again.” 

“This is your fault.” He whimpers. Amanda pulls out the hair dryer and sits there drying him for a bit. “Hehe… this is fun.” 

“Yeah yeah now I gotta take a shower so get out!” 

“C’mon a little longer?” 

“I’ll spray you with cold water and not let you dry off.” 

“Okay okay. I’m leaving.” Wooly says. He steps outside and sneezes again. “You know what… I’ll make us some warm milk. That’ll warm us up.” 

“Good thinking Wooly.” Sophie beams. The tape glitches to the kitchen. 

“So Riley… are you going to stick around?” Wooly asks. He’s already looking to get rid of me. Riley thinks with annoyance. 

“Maybe for one more tape. Then there’s a lead I have to look into that one of Peter’s family members gave me.” 

“More tapes?” 

“Apparently other than the 14 we found there are 10 more tapes Kate and the others found. Not counting colored tapes but… oh yeah I got four of those too, we can binge them tonight.” 

“Fun! I love mysteries!” Sophie giggles, clapping her hands. Wooly looks a little worried. “Except this isn’t like some game of course. It’s a very serious mystery that I am taking very seriously.” Wooly smiles, grabbing the saucepan from under the stove. Am I missing something? Riley wonders, I feel like I’m missing something. 

“So after that you’re leaving?” Wooly asks, eyeing Riley. Sophie clicks on the fridge.

“Yeah to help you and Amanda too, you little brat.” Riley teases. Sophie clicks on the milk. 

“Really? You don’t seem too helpful.” Wooly scoffs. Sophie drags the measuring cup over and Wooly starts pouring some milk in. 

“Hey! Don’t talk to my partner like that!” Sophie pouts.

“Oh! Sorry Sophie!” You apologize to her, not me? I see how it is. Riley thinks. 

“Stop there- wait you’re doing two cups this time right? Hold on… hold… there you go!” Sophie instructs. 

“See, Sophie’s helpful. She’s actually nice.” 

“Aww, thanks Wooly.” 

“I feel like I’m getting ganged up on here.” Riley grumbles.

“Oh come on Riley, you know we’re just teasing.” Sophie giggles. 

“Yeah Riley we’re just teasing.” Wooly snickers, clearly both are enjoying every minute of this. 

“You’re having milk and cookies without me AGAIN?!” Amanda snaps.

“No no, we made some for you too!” Wooly says quickly. “I just thought of making something nice to warm us up.” 

“Can I put hot cocoa in mine?” Amanda asks.

“You. Are. A. Genius.” Wooly gasps. 

“Amanda… Sophie and Wooly are ganging up on me.” Riley complains. Amanda shoots them both a shocked “I’m disappointed in you” look. 

“WHAT?!” Wooly shouts. “We were not!” 

“We totally were though.” Sophie chuckles. 

“Don’t worry Riley, I'll protect you.” Amanda says, suddenly having a kitchen knife in her hand.

“Sophie! Help me!” 

“Haha! No one can save you now, Wooly!” 

“Amanda! No playing with knives!” Sophie scolds, “And Wooly, be nice to Riley, really.” What are you, their freaking mom?! Riley wonders. 

“Wooly, the milk is boiling.” Riley informs. 

“S---!” Wooly says, running over to the stove. 

“Wooly! Language!” Sophie gasps. 

“OOOOOOOOOooooooh!” Amanda grins. 

“Wooly’s in trouble!” Riley snickers. 

“Wha- Well I learned it from Riley! They always swear when they get frustrated with Amanda’s puzzles!” 

“Riley!” Sophie says scoldingly. 

“The TV was paused! I didn’t think they could hear me!” 

“You still broke the rules! Oooh what a fall from our little goody two-shoes. You’ve been breaking all the rules lately, haven’t you!” Amanda teases. 

“Grrr… well Amanda said the f-word. Twice!” 

“Amanda!” Sophie gasps. “I thought this was a kids show?”

“Being watched by two adults. Let them swear.” Riley sighs.

“We’re basically adults ourselves anyway.” Amanda adds. 

“But still! Teach them… I don’t know- something productive.” 

“Swearing is very productive,” Riley says smugly, “it’s how I get all my s--- done.” 

“Oh for the love of-” Sophie gives up and gives Riley a loving smile. “But seriously, you two probably shouldn’t be doing that. We don’t know if Hameln is watching.” 

“Screw Hameln.” Amanda says, “what are they gonna do? Fight me? HA! I’d like to see them try!” 

“Amanda… that’s not very wise…” “It’s called not giving a f--- Wooly!” 

“Amanda seriously-” 

“Hey Wooly, you started it. If I stop swearing you have to as well.” Amanda says. Wooly glares at her. 

“But what if it’s kind of fun?” he pouts. Amanda finds this wickedly funny. 

“Wooly!” Sophie gasps. 

“Give up Sophie, they’ve already bitten the forbidden fruit.” Riley smirks. She sighs and shakes her head. 

“Yeah, let's just finish making hot cocoa and watch the rain through the window in the living room.” Wooly suggests. Wait… why is this the thing they’re on the same page about? Am I getting ganged up on now? Sophie wonders. 

“That’s a great idea Wooly! Sounds relax-” the tape glitches and they're already doing it. “Today was fun.”

“Yeah, imagine if every day was like this…”

“Well… I wouldn’t want it to all be the same…” 

“Oh yeah, too much rain and our garden will drown!” Wooly laughs. 

“Thanks for playing with us today… I hope… we can always play like this.” Amanda smiles. The tape fades out and falls out of the machine. 

“Wooly seems to have really taken a liking to you.” Riley points out. 

“Yeah well, Amanda likes you more than she’s ever liked me.” Sophie chuckles. 

“Maybe we can use that to our advantage?” Riley wonders, “Not that they can tell us much more…”

“I think what’s most important is keeping them company.”

“And finding them a way out…” 

“Mmm… well even if we can’t… we should still keep them company.” 

“Yeah… I guess you’re right.” Riley sighs. 

“Anyway, I got some work to do tomorrow, so why don’t you play with them this time? Before you leave?” 

“Just me? Well okay…”

Author's note: So yeah. Riley is the “fun parent” and Sophie is the one who has rules. Enjoy the fluff for now… because it won’t last forever… >:)

[thenexusofsouls]

"Me? No," Wade said, shaking his head. "The opposite, actually. I'm bored to death." He realized how that probably sounded to her a moment later. "Not- I didn't mean bored sitting here talkin' to you. I meant with life in general lately. Haven't found any good jobs yet in this city, got nothin' but time on my hands, that sorta thing," he sought to clarify.

He understood what she was getting at with the waffles, and she was right, really. But if his enjoyment was the only reason for something, then lately he just wasn't interested. He really didn't deserve to indulge at present, and he wasn't sure when he was going to finally say he did deserve it.

Everything that had happened to his friends and potential future family wasn't exactly something somebody got over in a shot amount of time. Until he did, he was going to keep right on thinking he didn't deserve to be happy. I got everybody killed. If I'm not gonna join 'em like I should've, the least I can do is live a completely miserable life. Not the greatest logic, but emotionally it made sense to him. "Yeah, I guess," he said unconvincingly, choosing to leave it at that rather that harp on things. This poor woman was probably tired of hearing his bellyaching bullshit.

He thought her reaction to his supposed medical condition not being given proper thought had been a bit... extreme? Had he touched a nerve somewhere? Surely her anger wasn't just out of concern for him, they'd only just met a little while ago. Still, the anger seemed... personal, somehow. Maybe she's been in jail before. If she had, that wasn't any of his business. If she wasn't on his list, then he didn't care what she did or how many years she'd spent in the cage.

He was still thinking about what he'd seen outside with the unfortunate, umbrella-challenged fellow. Again, he was curious and wanted to know what she'd done, what that blue stuff was, how she'd fixed the umbrella so well... but it seemed wrong to ask. She seemed like a very private person and Wade wasn't one to pry into other people's affairs unless he was being paid to do it.

Cutting the stack of napkins that arrived in half and dividing them between her and himself, Wade wasted no time in drying his rather shiny chromedomus before any more rainwater could drip down his nose or from his chin. "I gotta install gutters on this thing. Seriously, everything just rolls right off," he complained, gesturing towards his head.

When she said he'd done the same thing, meaning fixing the umbrella, Wade chuckled. "Nah, I didn't do shit, that was all you," he insisted. "All I did was get myself wet and hold the door on the way back. Hardly medal-worthy conduct."

The soldier bunched herself up under the desk, palms pressed to her ears with enough pressure that she could hear the squeak of her joints. She was trying to block out the noise. The angry shouts as she disobeyed direct orders. When had she entered the office? One minute she'd been searching the aisles...

well,

Shallow breaths

A tap on her shoulder, sending her jolting alongside her racing heart, wide eyes searching for the source- an elderly woman with a light laugh, and an apology for startling her. She was only reaching for the milk

Bright, fluorescent lights

Constant chatter and clanging and beeping that was not, in fact, a heart rate monitor, and was instead the tills as the cashiers scanned various items

Too many options

kind of.

At some point she'd passed the bakery, and a small child in a cart had wheeled by, holding a...

And then she'd found herself in the office. The door was locked from the inside. The desk had the indent of fingers on the edge of it's surface, as though imprinted in wet cement. One of it's legs wiggled like a snake. Both still gleaned with the sweat of her hands.

The manager kept slamming on the door, shouting and raving about calling the police, and company files and trespassing. And yet she was frozen in place. - For Wade, sadiebrin

@sadiebrin

"Donuts or muffins?" Wade muttered to himself as he looked around the bakery section. His head tilted to one side, then the other. "Eh, they each have their good points..."

It was supposed to rain today. Not just rain, thunderstorm. So far, though, the sky had gone dark for a couple hours and it had gotten rather windy, but so far... no rain or thunder. Perfect weather for Wade to do a little shopping during normal human hours without fear of getting too impaired by the sun. He'd felt a mild tingling on his skin when he stepped outside, but... not too bad. And really, he just had to go from his apartment building to his SUV, and then from there into the store. He could do that standing on his head, so... time to shop.

Being a vampire sucked, pun intended. Needing blood all the time was not only unappealing to Wade, but it was massively inconvenient with his schedule and lifestyle. And he refused to give up the foods he loved, even if they did nothing for him nowadays. At least he could eat whatever he wanted without fear of getting fat or developing heart disease, since whatever made him a vampire seemed to regulate his body to keep it in tip-top shape without him having to do much of anything.

His deliberations on exactly what kind of indulgent human food to buy were interrupted by a very distressed woman staggering from near where he was toward the back of the store. Confections could wait. Wade followed her, sensing that something was very wrong. When she went inside an office and slammed the door, Wade stopped and watched as the manager began pounding on the door like a child throwing a tantrum. "Really?" Wade mumbled to himself.

Making his way to the door, Wade laid his hand on the manager's shoulder. "Take a breath, okay? I think she's havin' some kinda problem." The manager was taking too many breaths, as it were, and spouting more boisterous nonsense about how she wasn't allowed in there, and if she didn't come out right this instant he was going to called the cops!

With an irritated smirk, Wade reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. "Dude, relax, I am the cops," he said, flashing his badge just fast enough for the manager to see something that looked official but not long enough for him to actually read that it only said government licensed bounty hunter on it. It worked, and the manager took a step back from the door. Only one. Wade looked at him like, you gotta be kiddin' me with this bullshit. "Yeah, you wanna gimme some time here, man? I'll handle it, don't worry." With that, the manager huffed and left to deal with an irate woman who couldn't find the type of cheese she wanted and was making it everyone else's problem.

"Hey... miss?" he called through the door. "You okay in there? Need some help?" He was trying to get through to the woman but also sound as non-threatening as he could manage.

[senundone]

someone did some fucked up shit like real fucked up shit then stopped responding and when i realized they weren’t gonna respond i told them “i’ll haunt you like your dead grandma” and apparently that’s the worst thing anyone has ever said to this person and im sorry girl but i hope someone who isn’t a nice person is mean to you one of these days

[sukugo]

sukuna and gojo use binding vows for sex, taking things like orgasm denials or touch deprivation steps further, where the other is contractually bound to not be able to do certain things, like touch themselves or touch the other etc etc 

one such instance being a vow where gojo has a vibrator up his ass, but he can't touch himself or remove it, until sukuna specifically, pulls it out.  

he keeps the vibe in throughout the day, with sukuna controlling it remotely, even as they both go throughout their separate days.  

gojo goes to have his usual breakfast, and meets yuuji at the dining room, they greet and sit next to each other. yuuji is, as always, energetic and excited to see him 

they make conversation, until gojo gives a jolt and starts twitching and huffing. sukuna has turned the vibrator up all the way. yuuji worries and panics and asks him what's wrong. gojo gives a breathy laugh and reassures him. he motions low and tells yuuji about the vibrator inside him, through sudden jolts and soft whimpers.  

satoru complains about it, and yuuji advices to remove it or go and take care of himself.  

except gojo states that he can’t and yuuji puzzles.  

"it's... a pact—mmh!" 

"a pact???" yuuji's voice rises in volume, but he visibly calms, shoulders dropping into a fond sigh. "sensei, you really are..." that's all he can manage to say. reprimand is useless. gojo likes it, yuuji is well aware, he is enjoying every second of this, even as he complains.  

gojo gives a few odd jolts, undoubtedly an odd pattern of intensity from the vibe, yuuji can guess. sudden irregular ups and downs that are not taken well by the man.  

satoru clicks his tongue. "what is that guy doing?" he actually looks irritated for a moment—a look yuuji doesn’t get to see often—until it’s broken with a sigh and his pleased, calm demeanor returns, mimicking the soft waves of pleasure across his thighs. 

still, yuuji can see his hands crumpled at his sides, undoubtedly wishing to use them.  

that's when satoru perks flares up all of a sudden.  

"actually, yuuji,” he turns to look at him, grinning. “you can help me" he opens his legs and lifts the edges of his kimono, his dick peeking out the fabric. yuuji gulps at the sight. satoru motions to it, giving yuuji a wordless look. yuuji hesitates for a moment, but complies, taking his hand to the cock, and starts stroking. 

satoru crumbles under the touch, immediately breathing out his nose and muffling moans. he leans into yuuji, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, fingers clasped in yuuji's kimono, nuzzling into his hair and whining in his ear.  

satoru's sounds fluctuate in pitch and volume, making it known when his vibe's gotten stronger. yuuji keeps his pace and satoru spills in his hand. he twitches and sighs, soft breaths against yuuji's flushed ear. 

yuuji stares at the cum in his hand.  

"you can wipe it on me,” satoru tells him with a breath that's calmed much too fast. “my clothes are already soiled anyways". and yuuji feels bad for it, but he obeys nonetheless.  

satoru takes a hand to yuuji's chin and turns his face to him and gives him a kiss. short and sweet.  

"as a reward." he smiles at yuuji. the boy surprises but takes it happily, cheeks warm and eyes softened, albeit a bit timidly. a tinge of disappointment colors the edges of his face. 

"you want more?" satoru brings his face to yuuji's again. the vibrations have reached a slight plateau, so his voice is steadier.  

yuuji’s face widens a bit, but he nervously chuckles, pulling back from gojo's face. "no, it's alright," he lies. "i don't want sukuna to kill me" 

but satoru’s already pulling into him, breathing into his lips. "i won't let him <3"

"that's...actually reassuring......" yuuji’s eyes flutter shut as satoru's lips meet his again.  

and with that, they're kissing and slowly the vibrations and gojo’s twitching start again. satoru moves atop yuuji's lap to straddle him, and while they kiss, yuuji takes his hand between them and jerks him off again. satoru moans and gasps into his mouth, each jolt mirroring the pulses against his prostate.  

they separate for gojo to bury his face in yuuji's shoulders, arms hugging his neck. he humps into yuuji's hand until he comes against him again. 

he pants and huffs atop the boy, catching his breath. yuuji's gentle arms hold him, fingers rubbing slow circles at his back.  

satoru's breathing calms against yuuji’s neck. 

"yuuji, u're such a good boy."  

yuuji's heart and dick swell. 

[ligtas]

Val’s smile faltered for just a moment as Noah’s words settled over him. Good with them. He watched Zephyr and Lyra with their drink, their laughter spilling out into the bakery like sunshine. Once, Val had imagined moments like this for himself—a family to come home to, kids to dote on, a life filled with uncomplicated joy.

That dream felt like another lifetime now, something out of reach. He thought about Santi, about how tangled yet separated their lives had become. The future he’d once pictured seemed to evaporate the longer he lingered in this moment, replaced by the sharp reality of where he stood now.

Snapping out of his thoughts, Val cleared his throat and offered Noah a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thanks. Yeah... I, uh, used to think I’d have a family of my own someday.” He paused, glancing away briefly. Used to. “Guess life had other plans. Now I'm just the cool uncle with pastries and sweets.”

When Noah mentioned bringing him treats, Val shook his head, raising a hand in polite refusal. “Oh, no, you don’t need to bring me anything,” he said, his tone light, masking the slightest hint of wanting someone to care. “I appreciate the thought, though. Just stopping by is more than enough. Seeing them so happy? That’s plenty for me.” If he was honest, that was a lie. He wondered when he'd ever feel the consequences of putting himself second to everything else; he supposed it was biting him in the ass this very moment. "Besides, what else is a guy supposed to ask for?"

Noah studied the scene before him, impressed by how naturally the kids took to Val's presence. The bakery buzzed with the kind of simple happiness which made it where he wanted to frequent, if he was being honest. "The kids would love that. And mais con yelo? They've never had anything like that before." He stepped back, letting the moment unfold. The sight of his twins at the counter, their faces bright with wonder, brought back memories of Ji-Eun's way with them—that same gentle touch, that patient smile. Pride bloomed in his chest watching Zephyr and Lyra lean forward, completely absorbed in their treat.

"Thanks for the treat," he murmured, catching the subtle shift in Val's expression. "You're really good with them." Their excited squeals over the magic water pulled a laugh from deep within him. He thought about his own childhood, those uncomplicated days when everything seemed possible. Now, watching his kids discover their own magic moments made everything click into place. "This place is exactly what they needed," he said, observing Zephyr's careful investigation of the jelly while Lyra steadied the glass. "What we all needed, really." Something flickered across Val's face—a shadow of loneliness he recognized from his own reflection. That look of someone who spent their days creating joy for others while carrying their own quiet emptiness. He knew that feeling too well. "Hey," he offered, keeping his tone casual. "Next time we'll bring some treats home for you too."