#so the lack of dramatic weight really hurts

[heavencasteel420]

It is pretty ridiculous that, of all the characters in S3, Billy had the storyline with the most dramatic heft.

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ GIRL, SO CONFUSING kim chaewon x reader

❀ ͘ ⴰ previous chapters | richgirl ⭢ that girl (she’s delicious) ⭢ idon’t smoke ⭢ pretty when you cry ⭢ homesick ⭢ super rich kids

↳ warnings richgirl!yn, angst (yn is still at home), family dynamics, rich kid things, swearing, chaewon is still chaewon, arguing, guilt lots of it, backstory’s, chaewon being an instigator, not from yn’s perspective this time, mentions of ed & weight

what just happened?

the only words running through yunjin’s mind. she couldn’t keep her eyes off yn, who was trying her best to look fine, but yunjin saw right through it. had yn always looked like this?

she trailed behind the rest of the girls as they walked off the field toward the car yn had called for them.

the entire interaction between yn and her mother replayed in her mind like a broken record. she had never seen yn so tense before, yn was always so carefree, like nothing could ruin her mood. but her mother? her mother definitely did.

“lunch?” yn asked, the emotion in her voice hard to pinpoint. “you guys went to lunch without me?”

“honey, it’s not a big deal. don’t be dramatic! we were just celebrating your brother’s achievements just an intimate get together that I planned.”

“right,” yn laughed sarcastically. “i’m always so dramatic, huh?”

her mother ignored yn’s words, stepping back to scan her daughter. “this outfit is cute. it looks good on you. maybe lose a couple more pounds, and it’ll look even better.”

that’s what really got her. yn didn’t seem to notice, but yunjin had been watching her the entire time, through the whole interaction. it kind of scared her how quickly the hurt in yn’s eyes disappeared after her mom’s words. if you hadn’t been paying attention, you’d have missed it entirely.

she had this ugly feeling in her stomach, it was brewing.

“we should get food.” kazuha said as they made their way into the expensive van followed by mumbles of agreement.

"I can have the cooks make something, and you guys can eat in the pool house," yn offered, her voice flat and lacking its usual energy. yunjin frowned, noticing how all day yn seemed to be doing everything she could to keep them from actually going inside her house.

she would take yn as the girl who would love to show off her big childhood home.

“ “you guys?” you’re not hungry?” kazuha asked looking at yn with concern.

“yeah I don’t really have an appetite.”

her mother ignored yn’s words, stepping back to scan her daughter. “this outfit is cute. it looks good on you. maybe lose a couple more pounds, and it’ll look even better.”

yunjin's mind replayed yn's words and then her mothers even as the rest of the girls had moved on from the topic of food. she couldn’t shake it. now that she thought about it, yn never really ate much at the dorms...

that feeling in her stomach was getting worse.

yunjin wasn’t gonna lie and say she was yn’s biggest fan, but to be honest it wasn’t always like that, she never really had any problems with yn when they were preparing for debut it wasn’t until they actually debuted.

“YN OF LESSERAFIM BECOMES GLOBAL BRAND AMBASSADOR OF CHANEL JUST FIVE MONTHS AFTER DEBUT, IT’S REVEALED THAT THE IDOL WAS SEEN AS A MUSE.”

yunjin stared in disbelief at the headline on her phone. yn hadn’t even mentioned this to them. without a second thought, she turned to chaewon, shoving her phone in the leader’s face.

“oh yeah, i saw that earlier,” chaewon said nonchalantly after reading the screen. “that moon family money working overtime, huh?”

“huh?” yunjin blinked, confused. she knew the moon family was a big deal, but would they really pull strings for something like this? yn never talked about her family, much less anything like this.

chaewon smirked, turning her laptop toward yunjin. “i did some digging. chanel is practically a moon family staple.”

yunjin’s eyes widened as she scanned chaewon’s screen. it was filled with photos, yn’s father as a teenager in chanel, her grandfather in chanel, her mother draped in chanel, and even her brothers. But what stood out most were the photos of yn herself. the article showed pictures from her father's press conferences and paparazzi photos starting from when yn was a toddler all the way up to now. in every single one, she was dressed in chanel.

“she’s been wearing it her whole life,” yunjin murmured, piecing it all together.

“yup.” chaewon smiled impressed with herself, “I mean they’ve been wearing it for decades upon decades, why wouldn’t they want the first idol ever from the family to be an ambassador of the brand they love so much.”

yunjin took in chaewon’s words, “oh my…”

“I know right,”. chaewon smirked, “and isn’t it crazy that hybe told us they want us to do things as a group first? but yn is a chanel ambassador, she probably didn’t like the sound of that and pulled daddy into the equation.”

yunjin didn’t want to believe chaewon’s theories but that fact that yn didn’t even tell them about this made it all more believable.

that was practically the beginning of everything. every achievement yn had on her own left yunjin second guessing if it was real, or if it was just the perks of moon money.

yn was, undeniably, the most popular member of the group. she was loved, practically all of south korea had watched her grow up. she had an advantage.

yunjin didn’t like to admit it, but she resented yn a lot. maybe it was chaewon’s words getting to her, but it always seemed like yn never struggled the way the rest of them did. she was praised for everything. when the whole group went through a brutal wave of hate, yn came out of it untouched. it was unfair, her life was perfect.

but after witnessing that interaction, yunjin realized maybe yn’s life wasn’t so perfect after all. she wondered how yn hid it so well. or maybe she hadn’t maybe yunjin had just been too blinded by her resentment to notice.

families in power like the moons were known for not having the best environment, her parents would always bring it, they still did.

“you know when your members grandfather was the head of the family company, they once found yn’s father that was probably about your age passed out in the middle of the road? it was a really big scandal, but everyone forgot about it, I was younger when that happened probably the same age as him but ask your grandparents they’ll tell you all about it.”

“I remember a couple years ago I think your member yn like 12 and she passed out in front of everyone at a press conference, an insider said that the hospital said she hadn’t had any food in her system, again everyone forgot about that, the moon’s perfect image cannot be broken.”

“a couple years ago, maybe four years before you debuted, there was this conference that the whole moon family went to not just your member and her father, mother and siblings like everyone was there, and it was so scary to see, I still feel some type of worry when I see the photo but the whole family looked pale and sick, like they were on their death bed but they still talked and presented perfectly fine, it was so scary and concerning to people that now if you search up the words dead and alive the video and photos will pop up, I remember some people said they think the whole family is on drugs but then an insider said that hospital receives a person from the moon family almost everyday due to them overworking themselves, people don’t know how they’re still alive,”

the last story always sticks out to yunjin she brushed it off when she first heard it but it’s always in the back of her mind when she looks at yn.

because there has been times where yn in the mornings she’d take notice of a hospital bracelet on yn’s wrist, she doesn’t know why she brushed it off but she did.

the feeling in her stomach was getting worse.

all the girls were comfortably lounging in the pool house. there was a tv, so they picked a show to watch

yunjin turned to chaewon, who was sitting beside her. “um, I have a question.”

“yeah?”

“yn’s interaction with her mom was weird, right? like, the weight comment?”

chaewon stared blankly at yunjin. “yeah, it was kind of weird, but that was probably just an off day. it’s normal for moms to mention stuff like that sometimes.”

“but you and I both know yn’s weight is perfectly fine, and it’s not just that and that comment yn said to you about her perfect life after and she seemed so tense, and some of the things her mom said were kind of—”

“okay, yunjin, what is going on? since when did you care about the moon family? they’re a perfectly fine family with all the money and power in the world. if they’re going through a rough patch, they’ll be fine and that comment was just her trying to get under my skin.”

the stories her parents brought up rushed back to her, this didn’t seem like a rough patch this seemed like a lifestyle.

yunjin took a deep breath. “I’m gonna go see where the food is. yn said she was checking on it, but she hasn’t come back.”

“try not to get lost!” chaewon joked.

yunjin couldn’t help but gasp at the sheer size of the moons’ house. this was yn’s childhood home? it was massive, she could definitely get lost here. she was about to turn back, thinking there was no way she’d actually find yn, when she heard her voice. it sounded tense, distressed.

following the sound, she crept closer, the voice leading her toward the kitchen. peering around the wall, she spotted yn, on her knees with her face in her hands, talking to jia, one of the household staff yunjin vaguely remembered.

“and then she brought up my weight again, right in front of everyone,” yn’s voice shook, barely keeping control. “she humiliated me!” she sounded desperate.

yunjin’s eyes widened as she watched yn stand abruptly, snatch a glass from a silver platter meant for the group, and hurl it to the ground, the shatter echoing through the kitchen. jia looked at her with a sad, understanding expression, as if she’d witnessed this scene far too many times.

“jia, I’m not good enough. I’ll never be good enough!” yn’s voice cracked, full of pain. “she planned this whole family lunch without me to celebrate achievements when I’m probably one of the most achieved person in this family as of right now, and now they’re all out shopping together!”

yunjin’s stomach twisted as she watched yn pace, her movements frantic.

“I’ve basically killed myself for that woman. I’ve been starving myself since I was ten ten, jia! I’ve done everything I possibly could just to make her love me, and she just… doesn’t. I’d do anything, anything for her, and it’s never enough.”

yunjin felt frozen, like she’d intruded on something far too personal, but she couldn’t look away. she’d never seen yn like this, stripped raw, unraveling at the seams.

“your mother loves you, miss yn,” jia murmured, reaching out gently. “have some tea, and I’ll bring the food out for your friends.”

“I don’t want tea!” yn shouted, her voice breaking. “and they aren’t my friends! they shouldn’t even be here!” she paused, her face twisting in pain. “she hates me, my own mother hates me, ever since that day.”

“that day wasn’t your fault, yn.”

“but it is! I was trying so hard to please her, and I did the exact opposite. I passed out in front of everyone important to her and dad . I embarrassed the family.” her words were choked, each one like she was tearing herself apart from the inside out.

yunjin’s heart sank. she knew exactly what yn was talking about, a story her own parents had once mentioned in passing.

“that was out of your control, yn. you were just a child.”

the scariest part was that yn wasn’t even crying. she was breaking down, but the tears never came. it was like she’d numbed herself.

yn never cried is something yunjin was starting to take notice of.

“no one is a child in this family jia, we both know that.”

yunjin was so transfixed that she didn’t even notice when jia’s gaze shifted, her eyes widening in alarm. yn turned around, following her gaze, only to meet yunjin’s shocked stare.

“what are you doing in here?”

yunjin flinched as she looked up to see yn walking toward her, fury blazing in her eyes. “I–”

“you shouldn’t be in here. is anyone else in here?”

“no, I was just wondering about the food.” yunjin’s heart was racing, she’d never seen yn like this before. “what’s the problem with me being in here? I don’t see the big deal,” she mumbled.

“because this is my home!” yn’s voice was sharp, rising as she shrugged off jia, who tried to calm her. “I don’t need you guys invading my safe space! do you hate me that much? that you can’t even let me have one place to escape from all of you?”

the feeling in yunjin’s stomach twisted painfully.

“wha–yn, hold on–” yunjin stammered.

“what?! am I being dramatic? I don’t care anymore!” yn’s voice cracked with rage and hurt. “did chaewon set you up to snoop on me? is that what this is? how much did you see?”

yunjin stayed silent.

“where’s all that talk you usually have? I asked how much did you see!”

“a lot…” yunjin admitted quietly.

“of course you did.” yn shook her head, her expression twisted with betrayal. “no one respects my wishes. I told you all to stay outside, to stay out of my space.”

she let out a bitter laugh, venom in every word. “just my luck. I’d tell you to go back to new york and live on the rat infested streets where you belong, but that’d just give you another reason to make my life miserable.”

anger surged through yunjin anger at herself. she felt the crushing weight of yn’s words, the realization of just how deeply she’d hurt her. yn needed a safe space from them. from her. and now, because of yunjin’s carelessness, yn was unraveling.

guilt clawed at her, twisting her insides until she felt nauseous. that feeling in her stomach… it was overwhelming.

unable to hold it back, yunjin looked up, her gaze pleading as she met jia’s concerned eyes. “is there a washroom nearby?”

“right beside you,” jia said softly, pointing.

yunjin turned and stumbled toward the door, barely making it inside before collapsing to her knees in front of the toilet. she let everything out, her stomach churning, her chest heaving with sobs she couldn’t control. the weight of her guilt, her shame, everything she’d ignored and avoided, now pouring out in raw, painful waves.

she lifted her head from the toilet and turned to see yn and jia standing at the door with unreadable expressions.

“I’m so sorry.”

[arinzx]

JUST A KISS !

` Where Riki is crazy with love !

✶ 𝐂𝑖𝐒 ⦂ love!riki ୨୧ love!reader ｡｡ fluff, one shot, ⟡ .─ tw. skinship, kisses ( 𝓐𝐑𝐂𝐇 )

Jaz note: the only thing I can say after writing this. I need a riki ;(

English is not my native language!

The task was simple: to write an essay on the First World War and its consequences and impacts on the world. The only difficult thing about the whole situation was keeping Ni-ki away from you.

It was a bad idea to choose your boyfriend as your partner, especially after how difficult it was to get out of his arms just to be able to continue with the work...

Ni-ki was not very satisfied, especially after in the whole damn day, he had not received a single sign of love, not a single one.

“Honeeey!” Riki whined as he shook you, he put his arms around your waist, bringing you closer to him while they were sitting on your bed, you put aside your computer directing your attention to riki, with a threatening look you continued “Nishimura Riki, I swear that if I get 5 in this essay because of your need for kisses... you won’t be safe at night!” You gave him a slight blow to the head while Riki formed a slight involuntary pout on his face, rubbing at the place of the blow “I can’t believe my own girlfriend wants to hurt me, what did I do to deserve this...” He put his hand on his chest dramatically.

Leaving aside his drama, you turned your attention back to the computer, you completely ignored the way he got up, listening to the distance, listening to how he walked away.

Totally lost in the essay, you felt as if out of nowhere someone climbed on top of you, causing the computer to fall to the floor strongly.

Riki’s weight left you breathless “Nishimura, I’m out of oxygen!” You tried to push him away with all your strength, but being your boyfriend taller, stronger and heavier than you. Obviously you didn’t make it.

“I won’t do it until I get my kiss,” he began to laugh out loud, dropping his weight more on you. “It’s okay, it’s okay! I’ll give you your damn kiss” you felt how Riki knelt slightly, facing each other, their faces completely close. “Are you really going to give it to me?” A mischievous smile appeared on his face, the breaths slowly mix.

“But only one-“ Riki took your face with his two hands, pressing his lips with yours, melting into a loving kiss, which transmitted Riki’s desire and longing, as loving, as a second confession of love. I roll on the bed, making you stay on top of him, while hugging you from behind, feeling so small around him. You walked away slowly due to lack of air.

“Well, time to go back to work-“ He began to peck your lips, not letting you get away from him, your laughter echoed in the room while you tried to push him away “Nishimura enough!” The laughter of this one was not necessary, twitching against the “I can’t help it, it’s involuntary!”

You managed to get away from him, getting off him quickly “Enough, I’ll give you the kisses you want, but only after finishing the work” you pointed at him threateningly and he raised his hands in defense. You took your computer from the floor, but when you opened it, you found a split screen..!

You turned your head slowly towards him, riki realizing what happened thought that the exorcist had possessed you “Oh no...”

“NISHIMURA!!”

[gojossocks]

"I want to go first." Satoru spoke out of the blue. "When we die."

You froze, your hand stopped stroking his hair. Satoru, with his head on your lap, seems to be in deep thought as he stares at your shared bedroom’s ceiling. His eyes then darted to yours when he noticed the lack of touch before raising his eyebrow at you, silently demanding you to continue, as if he didn’t drop a daunting subject right in front of your face. 

Leaving with no other choice, you sighed and resumed your administration which earned a satisfied hum from your boyfriend. He closed his eyes contentedly then he spoke once more, “Can you promise that for me, baby?” 

“I..” for some reason, you find it hard to speak. This was the hardest favor Satoru has asked of you. Can you really endure it? You didn’t want to imagine a world without seeing his bright smile, let alone live it. But then your trail of thoughts were cut off when he nudged your arm and intertwined his hand with yours, the one resting on his stomach.  “Why are you saying this, Satoru?” 

“I don’t think I can live a second without you. I think I’ll finally lose my shit if I do. ” He said, and there’s a hint of playfulness in his tone but you know his words hold so much more weight than what he makes it out to be. He’s just trying not to make you sad, you know it. Then he proceeded to whine, Satoru-style, dramatically, “please baby, you gotta promise.” 

You pursed your lips and focus your attention on combing his locks again. You were about to protest but you saw the unease resting on Satoru’s face, and you knew that he would respect and obey your wishes if you said no. 

Come to think of it, Satoru has lost so many loved ones in his life. He had failed to protect them even with the title of being the strongest. And it had broken him, despite his cheery disposition in front of people. The only reason he had endured is because you were there for him. 

You are quite literally his whole world and the thought of him treading this world alone with no one to shoulder his burdens with hurts you more than losing him first. 

Okay, you thought. You would endure the grief for him so that he doesn’t have to anymore. You let out a defeated sigh and you leaned in to kiss his forehead. “Okay, I promise. You can go first.” 

Your words must’ve soothed him because the smile on his face resurfaced again and he went back to his cheery self, and it doesn’t feel forceful this time. 

“I love you, you know? I bet I’d be a really hot ghost following you around.” 

“Creep.”

wanna read more?

[nemo-writes]

⋆˚࿔ ⋆˚࿔ 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐞 ; 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝜗𝜚˚⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

↣ pack!tf141 x witch!reader

↣ chapter summary; after a tense confrontation with laswell, you find comfort and support in alejandro and rudy. but just as you're beginning to regain your footing, an unexpected call pulls you back into the fray.

⚠️ warnings; slightly graphic content, body horror

★ previous ; next

☆ story masterlist

Entering through the back door, you find Laswell already settled in the quiet of the bar, humming softly to a tune playing low over the speakers. She’s at ease, arranging bottles and tallying inventory, a steaming cup of tea beside her. The smell of fresh herbs mingles with the earthy scent of aged wood, creating a warmth that would normally be comforting. But today, it feels stifling. It’s strange to see her so relaxed, not even glancing up as you approach.

Finally, she looks up, her face softening with a small but welcoming smile. “Early morning for you too, I see,” she says, taking a sip of tea. “Couldn’t sleep, I take it?”

“Not quite,” you manage, biting back the surge of emotions. You clear your throat, shifting your weight, the ache in your injured ankle sharp and relentless, yet she seemed oblivious to your state.

“Is everything alright?” she asks, her tone too polite, too casual. “I was just going over inventory—didn’t expect any company.”

The sheer calmness in her voice, the way she doesn’t mention last night's missed call or notice the obvious signs of wear and urgency, makes your stomach churn with a dawning realization.

“Laswell, I’m here because something’s wrong. Deeply wrong,” you begin, pushing down the frustration building inside. “I have confirmed it—here, look,” you take out the nail and unwrap it, carefully keeping the cloth between it and your skin.

She barely glances at it, lifting her cup again. “It’s just a nail,” she says, a hint of bemusement in her tone. “Really, you’re letting your mind run away with whatever this is.”

You feel your chest tighten as you feel your face flush with a mix of indignation and flaring anger. "Laswell, I found this embedded in my floor—right where Ghost scratched it, again and again, after he attacked us. He nearly tore the place apart, and Sybil… she was badly hurt. Whatever this is, it's powerful. It's gotten into him, into all of them!"

You’re practically pleading now, voice rising, words tumbling over each other in near hysteria. "S-someone is using Leah as a conduit. It’s a manipulation curse, this isn't some baseless paranoia—it's real, and it's tearing us apart from the inside out!"

Still, she doesn’t respond with the urgency you need. Instead, she watches you with that frustratingly calm demeanour.

Laswell sighs, setting her cup down as though indulging you. “You’ve always been dramatic, but this is getting excessive. Think about it: a nail?” She offers a patronising half-smile. “It’s unlike you, letting yourself be so easily swept away.”

Her words are like a slap. You feel the fury finally bubbling over, mixed with disbelief. “I’m not imagining things. I need you to see it for what it is—”

But she only raises her hand, dismissing you with a calm indifference. “Enough, really. There’s no curse here, no manipulative power. Just a town, a pack, and emotions running high. Take a few days, step back, and you’ll see it, too.”

Your hands tremble as you clutch the cursed nail. The way she brushes off your concerns, the lack of urgency despite everything you’ve told her—it’s too much to bear. Without another word, you turn on your heel, seething, but not before leaving him with some scalding last words.

“This town, these people—you’re supposed to protect them,” you say, your voice sharp and bitter. “What good is all that power if you’re blind to everything that’s rotting under your own roof?” The words hang in the air, and before she can respond, you storm out, the cursed nail still in your grip, its weight like a reminder of everything gone wrong.

. . .

Outside, the cold air hits you, but it does nothing to cool your anger. Just as you take a shaky breath, a car pulls up with a shrill just a few steps ahead, and your heart jumps. Then, you spot Alejandro and Rudy inside, their expressions shadowed with something. Instinct flares, and you stiffen, suspicious and guarded. You take a step back, but Alejandro calls out to you.

“Preciosa (Precious/Darling) get in,” Alejandro urges, his voice carrying a sense of urgency. “We need to talk.”

You hesitate by the curb, your instincts still buzzing from your one-sided confrontation with Laswell. Alejandro’s face is unreadable, but Rudy leans over from the passenger seat, his eyes searching yours with concern.

“We know about the attack,” he says, his tone low, though you sense his anger just beneath the surface. “Alejandro and I found Ghost earlier today. He was…covered in blood. Your blood.”

After a breathless pause, you nod and climb into the back seat. The door shuts with a thump, and Alejandro swiftly pulls away from the curb, guiding the car back into the street. 

“We saw the state of your place. And also we found Sybil.” Alejandro's gaze meets yours through the rearview mirror, his usual hard expression softening. “She told me everything.”

A wave of relief washes over you. They know—they understand. You’re no longer alone in this nightmare, and the realisation loosens something inside you. The strength you’d clung to so desperately wavers, and for a moment, you almost break.

“I see,” you manage, voice thick with the strain of it all.

Rudy reaches over from the driver’s seat, his brow furrowing as he gives you a careful once-over, spotting your wrapped ankle right away. “Are you hurt anywhere else?” he asks quietly, reaching out to lift your wrist and gently turn your arm, checking for bruises or scrapes that might’ve been missed. His fingers hover over your shoulder, where you wince, and he draws his hand back slightly, though his concern is palpable.

Alejandro peeks at you from over his shoulder. “You look like you haven’t slept in days,” he says before looking back at the road, voice steady but laced with concern. “Let's just head back to your shop. We’ll talk there.”

His words are firm, leaving no room for argument. Beside him, Rudy nods, his hand still resting on yours as if grounding you. “You’re not doing this alone,” he adds, gentle but insistent.

Seeing them both so attuned to the toll this has taken on you, the comfort of their presence chips away at the wall you’ve held up, giving you space to breathe—if only for a moment.

The drive back  is spent in tense conversation as you bring them up to speed, laying out everything—the cursed nail, Leah’s manipulation, and your suspicions about the pack’s infection. Rudy listens intently from the passenger seat, brows drawn with a mix of disbelief and concern. Alejandro nods along, his jaw tight, gripping the steering wheel as you delve into the twisted details.

When you arrive at the shop, they immediately set to work. Alejandro rolls up his sleeves and begins putting everything Ghost toppled back into place, lifting shelves and setting furniture upright. Meanwhile, Rudy moves closer to inspect your injuries. Despite your insistence that they’re fine, he gently checks over your bandages, his expression softened with a mix of care and worry.

Alejandro pauses, dusting his hands off. “We shouldn’t stay for too long,” he says, voice low, as if half-worried the town itself might hear. “If the pack’s fallen under whatever's hanging over Leah’s, then it’s only a matter of time before it tries to spread. Whatever’s protecting us might not hold up if we stay around.”

A lump forms in your throat at the thought of being left alone again, but he doesn’t give you time to dwell on it. “Look, we can help in one more way,” he adds. “Let us take that nail, and we’ll get it checked out. We know people—ones who are good at tracking this sort of thing.”

You hesitate for a moment but know he’s right. Their network is solid, and they might be your best shot at uncovering the root of this twisted curse. Finally, you nod.

Rudy and Alejandro then continue to finish helping to restore some semblance of order to the wrecked shop. Only when the last of the glass is swept away and the floor looks almost recognizable do they finally step back, taking a moment to exchange glances. They’re still worried, you can tell, but the relief in their eyes says they can see you’re calmer now—more prepared to handle what’s to come.

Alejandro puts a hand on your shoulder, swiping some hair away from your face, his voice steady. “Remember, we’re a call away. And say goodbye to Sybil for us, yeah?”

Rudy nods, adding, “Yeah, tell her to stay safe. Both of you.”

You give them both a small smile, touched by their concern. They head for the door, casting one last, reassuring look over their shoulders. “Buena suerte, (Good luck)” Alejandro says as they finally step outside. “You’ll figure this out, and if you need us, we’re only a call away.”

As the door clicks shut behind them, the silence settles around you, leaving only the lingering comfort of their support. You turn back to the remnants of your shop, now tidier and slightly more familiar. But there’s no mistaking the weight still hanging in the air, pressing you forward.

. . .

Later that day, you’re carefully tending to Sybil. Between gentle touches, you juggle phone calls to regular shoppers, letting them know their orders will be delayed, and texting to suppliers, asking them to hold off until next week.

"Yes, Mrs. Eldridge, I understand the urgency. I’ll have the tonic for you as soon as possible. A few more days, thank you so much for your patience."

“Can you give me just a few more days? I’m handling some unforeseen… complications.”

The anxiety gnaws at you, a creeping feeling that your business teeters on a precarious edge. You remind yourself, almost like a mantra, that you have some savings—it’s enough to keep things afloat, for a time. But only if matters resolve quickly.

Returning your attention to Sybil, you feel the weight of it all settle onto your shoulders, heavier than you care to admit. You reach out, pressing a soft kiss to her snoot. “We’ll make it through, love. One way or another, we’ll figure this out.”

You settle on the floor, back pressed against the edge of your bed where Sybil is resting, her breathing calm but shallow. Your contact book lies open across your lap, and your phone is balanced precariously on your knee as you scroll through names and numbers, ticking off the people you’ve already called. Each tick brings a sense of relief, a small semblance of control in the storm that has upturned your life. You pause, taking a moment to rub your temples, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle in your bones.

As you prepare to make another call, the sudden shrill ring of your phone pierces the quiet. The sound jolts you, and your grip tightens reflexively. Glancing down at the screen, your heart flounders and tightens painfully. Price. His name flashes across the screen, dread washing over you—why call now?

You nearly don’t answer. But your thumb hovers, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you press accept and bring the phone to your ear.

“….Hello?”

His voice comes instantly through, raw and laced with an edge you’ve never heard before. “It’s Leah,” he says, words tumbling over each other. “She’s burning up, sick as hell, and nothing’s working. We can’t get the fever down. We’ve tried everything.”

“And so you called me?” you say, voice hardening against the anger rising in your chest. “After everything, you think I’m the one to fix this?”

He’s silent for a beat, then quietly, “Yes.” He doesn’t try to justify it, and the simple honesty in his answer makes you hesitate, grounding the anger you wanted to unleash. This wasn’t just a request—this was desperation.

“Start from the beginning,” you say, voice tight but steady. “Tell me every detail of her symptoms, when they started, how they’ve progressed—don’t leave anything out.”

Price’s voice, strained but controlled, begins to unravel the story: Leah had seemed fine until a few nights ago, just tired, but by morning, the fever had set in—high, unrelenting, and resistant to everything they’d tried. She’s grown weaker by the hour, barely coherent. His descriptions blur into each other, desperation breaking through his calm as he shares every attempt they’ve made, every remedy that’s failed.

As he speaks, you descend the stairs into your shop, eyes scanning over the remnants of what’s left. Some vials remain intact, and you sift through them, gathering anything that might help—the fever reducers, the cleansing tonics, a few precious herbs that hadn’t been shattered in the chaos.

“Alright,” you say when he’s finished, stuffing the gathered supplies into your bag with a steady hand. “I’ll bring what I can and get there as soon as possible. Just… keep her comfortable, and don’t try anything else. I’ll be there soon.”

You go back up to find Sybil with her head raised, her large eyes full of a quiet, unwavering insistence. She’s done laying around; every inch of her posture says as much. She huffs, as if to say, If you’re going, so am I. You hesitate, feeling the weight of her stare—knowing she’s right. If whatever is behind this catches you apart, it’ll only make things worse.

Sighing, you brush a hand over her snout and murmur, “Alright, girl, you win.” Carefully and balancing your bag on one shoulder, you lift her and move her into the truck, arranging some blankets you keep in your trunk to make her as comfortable as possible. Sybil settles there, eyes sharp and ready as you get a move on.

When you reach the house and park your truck, you dig into your bag and pull out a small bundle of sage, binding it to the rearview mirror with a careful knot. Whispering a few words over it, you weave a protective spell that should shield Sybil from harm while alerting you if anything—or anyone—tries to break into the truck.

You lean over the seat and give her a gentle kiss on her head, murmuring, “Stay safe, girl. I’ll be back soon.” She watches you leave, calm but alert.

As you walk up the driveway, memories drift up. The last time you were here, Leah had answered the door, her face bright despite the chaos inside. Now, as you step up to the door, the silence presses down like a heavy weight.

No one comes to greet you. The door creaks open with a single push, echoing down the empty hall as you slip inside, clutching your bag of supplies. The moment you step further into the threshold, the stench hits you—a sickly blend of decay and stale air. Instinctively, you raise a hand to cover your nose, eyes narrowing as you take in the disarray around you.

The entryway is a wasteland of discarded belongings, papers scattered and kicked to the sides, dusty furniture slumped as though forgotten. You feel the hairs on your neck prickle—Price would never leave things like this. And as for Gaz…his wards are gone, their faint warmth and hum that once guarded the house is now absent.

You continue forward, each step creaks underfoot, the house itself feeling more hollow, like it’s been emptied of any life it once held. Climbing the stairs, the stench only worsens. Passing door after door, you scan each room until, finally, near the far end of the hall, you find him.

Price sits on the floor, back against the wall, head in his hands. He doesn’t look up, doesn’t even flinch as you approach. His clothes rumpled, stained, his usual military crispness replaced by a weary, slumped figure.

“John?” you call softly, your voice barely a whisper.

He lifts his head, and the exhaustion in his eyes is like a punch to the gut. His beard is wild and unkempt, deep lines crease his face, shadows under his eyes dark and hollow. He looks up at you as if he’s only half-awake, half-alive, struggling to register that someone else is even there.

“It’s…you,” he mumbles, a hint of relief breaking through the fog in his eyes. “Didn’t think you’d come.”

His words are tinged with something raw, almost pleading, and you tighten your grip on your bag. “Of course I came. I tried to reach you all, and you didn’t—” you bite back the accusation, the fear twisting into frustration. “…what the hell happened here?”

Price’s gaze flickers away, his shoulders slumping further. He rubs a hand over his face, trying to muster some semblance of composure, but it crumbles almost immediately. “I don’t know,” he admits quietly, voice hoarse. “Things just…fell apart.”

His words are weak and lacklustre. You want to lash out, unleash the anger and frustration that's been building since you first walked through the door—the endless, ignored messages, the silence, the sheer neglect they've let fester. You want to scream at him for allowing things to come to this. 

But reality hangs heavy in the air. No amount of shouting will help undo things. 

“Where's everyone else?” you ask, trying to mask your anxiety.

“Gaz is inside with Leah,” he replies, his voice taut with worry. “Ghost… he’s locked himself away in the far wing of the house. We’ve set up protective spells on the door to keep him contained. And Soap—he’s somewhere in the forest, too feral to be around right now.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, and square your shoulders. With Ghost gone for now....you feel a little safer. “Show me to Leah,” you say, voice steady. “We can talk about everything else later.”

He stands up and guides you into the room, which is Inside is clean, organised, and untouched by the decay and disorder in the rest of the house. Just as you step inside, Gaz appears, his gaze catching yours with a flash of shock. “You…you came.” His voice is hoarse, filled with a mix of disbelief and hope.

But you cut him off with a look. “I’ll talk to both of you once I’ve seen Leah.” You push past him, heart pounding as you approach the bed.

Leah lies there motionless, her skin pale and almost translucent, sweat dampening her hair as she struggles to breathe. She’s a shadow of the person you remember, her body frail, almost brittle-looking. You press your hand to her forehead, feeling the unnatural heat radiating off her. 

Setting up on the nightstand, you start with a fresh egg and an empty cup. “I need to check for any curses or malign influences,” you explain to Price and Gaz, who hover close, concern etched on their faces. You position the egg over Leah, your breath catching as you begin to run it gently over her body. 

As you pass the egg over her chest, it feels heavy in your hand, and you take note of that at the back of your thoughts. When you finally pull it away and break it over the cup, you grimace at what comes out: the contents are putrid, blackened and oozing a foul-smelling substance. 

“Damn it,” you curse under your breath, your heart racing as the implications sink in. “This is worse than I thought.”

Panic flares in Price’s eyes, and Gaz leans in closer, both of them wanting to understand, to help. “What does it mean?” Price asks, his voice tense with fear.

“Out!” you shout, frustration boiling over. “Both of you, out! I can’t think with you hovering like that!” The urgency in your voice surprises even you, but they back off reluctantly, exchanging glances that communicate their worry.

Once the door closes behind them, the air feels a bit lighter, and you let out a shaky breath. You pull the covers off Leah, apologising under your breath. “I’m sorry, Leah. I need to do this.” Gently, you start to examine her body, careful and methodical. You can’t shake the guilt of not getting her consent first, but you know this is necessary.

You search her body meticulously, hoping to find any physical signs of injury or affliction. But as you scan her limbs, you find nothing—no cuts, no bruises. Just skin that feels too hot, a pulse that’s weak and fluttering. Anxiety gnaws at you; if there’s nothing physical, then what is causing this?

With no other options left, you resort to the looking glass spell—one you keep at the back of your mind and rarely use. You quickly step out, and catch Gaz’s attention with a quiet call of his name. John is nowhere to be seen.

He steps forward immediately, brows knitted in concern. “What is it?”

You hesitate only a moment before asking, “Could you bring me a bowl of warm water? And some soap—any kind, just… something that’ll make enough bubbles.”

Gaz’s expression flickers with curiosity and a bit of worry, but he nods. “Sure thing. Won’t take a minute.” He disappears down the hall and into the kitchen.

Within moments, he’s back, handing you a small basin filled with steaming water and a bottle of liquid soap. “Anything else?”

You shake your head, barely sparing him a glance back. “No, I’ve got it from here.”

He glances at Leah, and with a brief nod backs away, closing the door softly behind him.

You shake your head in dismay, before squeezing a healthy amount of soap into bowl and dipping your hands in, the heat soothing against your chilled fingers. You rub your palms until a layer of bubbles forms, the light, pearlescent film floating just above the surface. Steadying yourself, you shape your hands into a ring, forming a delicate, translucent ‘looking glass’ with your thumb and index finger.

You take a deep breath, focusing your energy, letting it flow from your fingertips into the circle as you gaze through it. The room dims, the world beyond your fingers blurring, until the scene sharpens again, revealing the inside of Leah’s chest.

Inside, her heart pulses faintly, its rhythm disturbingly slow, a faint and fragile beat. Wrapped tightly around it is a writhing, segmented parasite—long and winding, like some twisted centipede. It coils and constricts, pulsating in time with her heartbeat as though feeding off her very life force.

A sickening wave of horror hits you, and you gasp, the bubble popping and breaking the spell. This is forbidden magic—and worse of all, vampiric in nature. Your hands shake, and you clutch them tightly to your chest, fighting the urge to look away from her still form on the bed.

It’s one thing to read about such creatures in dusty old texts, where they’re distant, almost mythological threats. But to see it here, wrapped around Leah’s heart, consuming her from within…!

You’d need something far beyond the usual tools to dislodge it. The necessary charms, wards, and talismans to attempt such a removal aren’t here in your humble kit, and even if they were… you’re not sure you’d be able to muster the energy needed. Not now. Not after everything.

Your thoughts immediately freeze, instantly conjuring the one person who could help—a name surfacing like an unwanted ghost in your mind. The thought of her makes your skin prickle, a reflexive dread settling deep in your gut.

Unlike before, you wouldn't be calling for a friend. No, far from it.

You glance at your discarded phone, wet fingers hovering just over the screen. To ask for her help would mean facing scrutiny, judgement—the cold, familiar sting of disappointment. Worst of all, the quiet, unspoken proof of what you already fear: that you were never strong enough on your own.

But right now, there’s no time to weigh the consequences. And so, you dial a number, that even thought you had long deleted from your contacts, you still know by heart.

The line rings, each tone echoing your mounting anxiety, and when it finally clicks, silence stretches between you and the other end. You know she’s there—she’s just waiting for you to speak, to ask for what you need.

You squirm, shifting your weight as you muster the courage to break the tension. After what feels like an eternity, you finally manage to speak, the words tumbling out in a rush.

“Mother,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, strained with urgency. “I need your help.”

banner credit

[hazbinshusk]

blitzø x f!reader.

part two to this fic.

after inviting blitzø to stay the night in your bed, the two of you (and the rest of i.m.p.) deal with the sudden change in the dynamic between the two of you.

features blitzø typical language, pure fluff, and sexual innuendo. the man really has a thing for your boobs, okay? 1.4k

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

You wake up before your alarm, eyes opening reluctantly against the red light of a hellish morning. It takes you a moment to remember the events of the night before, but the shifting of the sheets over you as another body in the bed moves brings it all flooding back.

Both you and Blitzø had moved in the night and his hand is no longer wrapped around yours. You vaguely remember falling asleep after him, your hand still enclosed in his as his breathing had slowly evened out into a soothing, steady rhythm. His back is to you now, his body curled in on itself almost protectively. You take a moment to study him, the curve of his horns and the slim line of his back as it peeks out from under the blankets. Eventually you make a move to leave the bed, switching off your alarm and intent on a steaming shower.

You stop as something tightens reflexively around your leg as soon as you try to move, and you lift the sheets with a brow raised in curiosity. Blitzø’s tail is wrapped firmly around your calf, and as you watch, the spade of his tail twitches slowly back in forth against the underside of your knee. It’s oddly soothing, and you press your lips together against the smile that threatens to bloom on your lips. With a soft exhale you let yourself fall back against the mattress, turning your head to look at him again.

“Blitzø?” you say his name softly, almost unwilling to wake him up. You weren’t sure of the last time he’d seemed so… peaceful. You reach out to touch a gentle hand to his shoulder. “B? We’ve gotta go to work.”

The imp groans, rolling onto his back. He squints up at the unfamiliar ceiling, apparently confused. “The fuck…?”

His eyes snap fully open as the night before suddenly comes back to him, and he grimaces, slowly turning his head to meet your eye.

“Christ on a stick, I really spent the fuckin’ night here, didn’t I?”

You nod, amused by the almost bashful glint in his eyes. “You did.”

“Please tell me I at least got to bury my face in those sweet—”

“No, you didn’t.” you say bluntly, rolling your eyes before he can finish. Still, you feel a tingle of warmth through you at the suggestion. “How’d you sleep?”

He shrugs a shoulder, rubbing a hand over his face and groaning. “Fuck, my head hurts.”

“That’s what happens when you drink your weight in booze two nights in a row.”

“Bitch.”

You smirk at the lack of venom in his voice. “You wanna shower first? I don’t know if I’ve got anything you could wear, but I guess you could borrow a shirt or something if you need it…”

Blitzø groans again, more dramatically than before, rolling into your side and burying his face in your neck. You freeze as you feel the warmth of him press up against you, his face almost nuzzling into the curve of your collarbone. The sensation makes that warmth reappear inside you. The softest of cat-like purrs sounds from him for a moment before he stiffens, suddenly aware of the position he’s in.

He jerks away from you, falling off the side of the bed with a loud thump and a string of curses. The move tugs your leg across the bed, and his swearing continues as he realizes he’s effectively tied himself to you in his sleep. “Fuckin’ – ASS!”

His tail detangles itself from your leg as you sit up, and you swear you can see a pinkish hue to the scarred side of his face.

“…You good?”

“Shut up.”

“Nope,” you reply childishly, smirking when he flips you off. “Now, did you want to shower?”

Blitzø tries for seductive, raising an eyebrow at you from where he still sits on the floor. “You joining me? ‘Cause I gotta say the idea of you all soaped up and gag—”

“Blitzø.” you deadpan, climbing out of bed. His eyes drop over your figure as he realizes what you had been wearing in bed with him – just an oversized tee shirt and your underwear – and you swear his pupils dilate. “Are you sober yet?”

He blinks up at you, swallowing heavily before clearing his throat. “Judgin’ by the titty-fuckin’ brass band shovin’ its collective dick up my brain’s unlubed ass right now, I’d say yeah.”

You wrinkle your nose at the metaphor but squat down in front of him, studying his face for a moment. You nod as you make a decision, reaching out to wipe a spot of dried drool away from the corner of his mouth with your thumb. “Okay.”

Ignoring the part of you that reminded you that this was a bad idea, you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his in a chaste kiss, his cheek still cupped in your hand. Blitzø freezes for a moment before kissing you back, his hand finding your knee and sliding up to curl around the bare flesh of your thigh as he leans up into it. You feel his breath catch against your mouth, his tongue touching your bottom lip for a second. The kiss is soft and it’s brief and when you pull away Blitzø still looks surprised.

Giving him a small smile you stand, fingers curling in the hem of your shirt. “I’ve gotta shower. The coffee machine should start brewing in a few minutes if you want some.”

“I… what?!”

***

Loona doesn’t say anything when she climbs up into the van beside you, trapping you between the hellhound and the imp driving, but her raised eyebrow speaks volumes.

“Nothing happened.” you tell her defensively.

“Uh-huh.” Loona replies dryly, already focused on her phone, and you can basically feel Blitzø’s smirk on the other side of you. By the time you were showered and dressed he’d managed to summon up much of his usual bravado, and the fact that he was currently wearing your favorite 666 Wrath Radio tee shirt was serving as basically a spotlight broadcasting the idea that the two of you had fucked.

You suspect that that was the whole reason he picked it.

You jump as you feel Blitzø’s hand slide over your thigh as he reaches between your knees to shift gears. He touches you again as he withdraws, claws grazing along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Goosebumps follow after them. You shiver and he snickers, and suddenly you’re regretting the fact that you’d chosen to wear shorts.

Loona eyes you as she notices the touch, and you roll your eyes. “Nothing happened.”

“Sure.”

***

“Is Blitzø wearing your shirt?” Moxxie asked as you entered the I.M.P. office, drawing Millie’s attention too. “Why is he wearing your shirt?”

A smile forms on Millie’s lips, her eyes shining with possibility. “Did you two…?”

“No!” you reply, dropping onto the couch with a sigh. “For Satan’s sake, no!”

Moxxie seems to be still stuck on the obvious. “But he’s wearing your shirt.”

“Aw, come on, Moxx.” Blitzø says, wrapping an arm obnoxiously around the other imp and pulling him unwillingly into his side. He ruffles Moxxie’s hair with his fist, grinning as he tries to shove him away. “You know if we’d fucked Y/N here would need the day off just to get those sexy little legs of hers workin’ again after all the shakin’ they’d been doin’!”

“Shut the fuck up, B,” you tell him as Moxxie finally manages to wrest himself Blitzø’s grasp, and the taller imp grins at you. “Or I’ll tell ‘em what actually happened last night. Okay, boss?”

“Ooh, ‘boss’? Tits, you’re gonna go and make me all tingly.”

You roll your eyes, but his smile widens from teasing to more pleased as he notices you trying not to smile yourself. “Can we just… go kill someone? Please?”

Blitzø claps his hand together, turning on his heel to face Loona. “Now you’re talking! Looney, what have we got on the books for today?”

Millie takes a seat beside you, leaning into your side to speak quietly enough that only you would hear. “What did happen last night?”

You shake your head, avoiding her eye. Blitzø catches your eye again as Loona goes through the day’s agenda in a detached tone of voice. He winks and you feel yourself flush. Millie’s eyebrows shoot up as she notices.

You clear your throat. “I… honestly, I've got no fucking idea.”

[leeluvsyoongi]

࣪˖ ִ𐙚 Synopsis: Soft bf! Jk x innocent gf! Reader Headcannons

࣪˖ ִ𐙚 | warning(s)— Reader is a little ditzy, and super innocent, tooth-rotting fluff, & marked smut (unedited lowk)

˖ 𐙚 | word count: 2.1 k words

✧˖° Put Me In A Movie - bulcadoshow

SFW

soft bf! jungkook who adores his precious girlfriend; from the sweet roundness of your cheeks to the way you’d curl onto his lap and nuzzle the crook of his neck when you want his attention. His hands would affectionately wrap around your waist, kissing the top of your head, “What’s up baby?” His gummy smile and round eyes warm your skin. There’s no denying you have an incurable crush on your boyfriend. Your boyfriend. Koo was your boyfriend! The thought alone swarms billions of butterflies in your gut, your heart thrashing against your ribcage. “Can I color in your tattoos?” You mumble, holding a box of washable markers, a small smile curling on your lips. 

soft bf! jungkook nods vigorously at your request, before pressing an array of kisses all over your face. “Of course bunny,” He laughs, adjusting your weight comfortably on his lap before helping you set out the markers on the coffee table. “You’re so cute,” He whispers, resting his chin against your shoulder, watching your hands color in the inked designs. “No, you’re cute,” You mumble, looking up at him before pressing a shy kiss to his nose and returning to your coloring.

soft bf! jungkook admires the soft pink and pastels that fill his arm, along with the other inked tones. “So pretty,” He hums approving of your work, “You did a great job princess, I really like it,” He gently pats your head, watching the way you cover your face with the knitted paws of your soft strawberry print sweater. “Thank you,” You mutter, your voice muffled against the fabric. “Mhm,” He wraps his arms around your waist, gently swaying you from side to side. 

soft bf! jungkook laughs when you decorate bam with pink ribbons on his collar, the pink knitted sweater you spent weeks crafting for him. He can’t help but snap a picture of his son and post it on his Instagram account along with the array of pictures of his precious dog. The photo captioned with“내 여친이 뱀에게 한 짓 좀 봐 “ [Look what my girlfriend did to Bam.] His heart melts at the soft giggles that escape your lips when Bam attacks your face with slobbery licks, clearly loving his new look. 

soft bf! jungkook does everything in his capacity to keep you away from the press. He understands how anxiety-inducing it can be to be followed by dozens of paparazzi. He doesn’t want you living in that stress and is much happier with you existing comfortably, without constantly disguising yourself and being dragged into the whirlpool that is fame.

soft bf! jungkook enjoys being in the kitchen with you, as you talk about all the different recipes you’ve learned while he was away for his photoshoot campaigns. His heart swells at the sight of you pacing around the kitchen for different ingredients in your My Melody apron. Jungkook hums, listening to you ramble about your techniques for making your chocolate chip cookies extra fluffy, while he works on the opposite end of the counter in his matching Kuromi apron, making his mother’s famous recipe of Busan bibimbap. His eyes would dart up to you every few moments, taking in the soft curve of your cheeks as you mix the dough, adding a generous amount of flour after every few mixes. And god is he so in love with you.

soft bf! jungkook who couldn’t resist the soft curve of your cheek, without warning, leaned in and nipped playfully at the delicate skin, his teeth just grazing it. You swiveled around in his arms, poking his firm chest with a finger that lacked any real menace. “That hurt, Koo!” He tilted his head, his bunny-like smile growing wider. “No, it didn’t,” he teased, his voice dripping with mock innocence. The way your brows knitted together, and your pout deepened, made his heart flip. “It did,” you insisted, rubbing your cheek dramatically, your lips forming the cutest little frown.“Aish, my poor baby,” he cooed, his hands finding your cheeks and squishing them gently together. Your lips puckered slightly, making you look even more adorable in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, leaning in to pepper obnoxiously loud kisses across your lips.“Koo, stop!” you protested, your words coming out muffled, soft giggles bubbling out between every kiss, “Your lip ring is so cold!”

soft bf! jungkook always knows just what to do when the first days of your period hit. Ice cream? He has it stashed in the freezer. Heating pads? Already stored in a warm place. Your favorite stuffed animals? Littering the couches and covering the span of your bed. Your favorite movies? He already made a watchlist on Netflix. Pads? An entire inventory is in the bathroom cupboard. He already knows all your favorite foods and has a list of just what to cook when your cramps won’t leave you alone. The sweet boy was too shy to ask in the first months of your relationship, the only way he knew just what to do when the two of you had first gotten together was to call his Eomma asking all sorts of questions about what vegetables and foods ease cramps, she laughed, and told him to take out a pen and paper.

NSFW

soft bf! jungkook is surprised when you ask him about masturbation, the way you softly mumble the question and can hardly meet his gaze, already has a smile on his face. “Do you want me to teach you?” He offers, gently tracing tender patterns on your palm, his voice soft and slow. You slowly nod, nipping down at your lip. “Yes please,” He gently gathers you in his arms, resting his back against the headboard. He eases your back against his chest, resting his chin over your head. “I’m gonna take off your shorts okay?” His voice is soft, “Is that okay princess?” You quickly nod, your smaller hands working alongside his own to remove the soft material of your pj shorts. Your legs are carefully spread, and you’re blinking at the wet print of arousal on your baby-pink panties. His fingers gently ghost over the damp fabric, “This means you’re feeling good.” He whispers, “You know that already, don’t you baby?” You nod, your hands wrapping around his wrist, as he presses your stiff button over the cloth. “See this little button right here? That’s where you’re gonna feel super good.” 

soft bf! jungkook whispers, rubbing tight slow circles against the nub. Your body melts at his touch, a shuddered breath escaping your lips, “That feels good, right?” You nod, “M-mhm…I-I already touch there….I-I just…I never put my fingers inside…when I try, it hurts,” You whisper. He hummed in understanding, Jungkook knew you were a virgin, and he always respected your wishes to wait a little longer. “D-Do you want me to help?” He offers, his other hand rubbing soft circles over the warm skin of your belly, “B-But your fingers are so much bigger…?” You mumble shyly, “I-I don’t think they’ll…fit Koo…”

soft bf! jungkook sighs, the thought of your tiny hole struggling to take his fingers makes his crouch tighten. He's quick to brush the thought aside, focusing on your comfort. He’ll jerk it off in the shower later. “That’s okay bunny,” He assures, gently patting your hair. “My fingers don’t have to go in, we’ll take it easy, okay?” His eyes are locked on the nervous nip of your lip, and the innocent look in your eyes. “How…?”  You whisper, Jungkook gently lifts your chin his thumb tentatively brushing over the skin. “Remember when Koo said he could jus’ eat you right up?” His eyes are round and sweet, his thumb softly brushing over your bottom lip, making your face warm. “Mhm…” You nod, “Well, Koo jus’ needs you to lay back and take a deep breath okay?”

soft bf! jungkook makes sure his pretty princess is nice and comfortable, your pillows cozy beneath your head, and under your hips, keeping them propped up. He lets you hold onto your Hello Kitty SquishMallow for comfort, before peppering your inner thighs with loving kisses. He pays extra attention to your breathing—from every sigh to soft hitch— “It’s gonna feels a little weird at first…” He whispers, noticing the way your eyes shyly flicker down to meet his tender gaze. “I-Is it okay for your mouth to…uhm…be on my princess parts?” You whisper, your face burning up with shame and embarrassment at the filthy words. After a moment of silence, he kisses your soft strawberry-scented skin, nodding, “You’re gonna feel so good, your pretty cunny is gonna get so puffy,” Your eyes slightly widen at his words, and your lips part ever-so-slightly. “Rea-Really?”

soft bf! jungkook Feels his cheeks flush at the pretty breathy sounds that escape your lips. He’s addicted to the way your hole floods with warm cream at every flick of his tongue against your clit, or the way your fingers fist at his fluffy black mullet. The feeling of your lilac nails gently scraping against his scalp with every bump of his nose against your clit, making his head rush with hot blood. “K-Koo—” the way you mewled that little nickname like your life depended on it—the way your small airy voice filled his ears, only making him dizzier. Your hips jolt at every flick of his tongue against your entrance.

soft bf! jungkook is drunk on the taste of your arousal, the slight flutter of your flesh, and Fuck, you’re whining, softly hiccuping, when his lips wrap around your folds, tasting the path along your drooling slit. “Is it okay if I fill you up bunny? Jus’ one finger, k’ay?” His eyes dart up to your teary expression, the way you’re biting down on your swollen bottom lip. “S’ it gonna hurt?” You whisper, “Just a pinch, promise I’ll make it super quick…It’s gonna feel so good,” He assured you, and of course, you trusted him with your life, nodding like his good girl. The soft curtains of his hair lower back to your puffy cunny, the fluffy strands brushing against your thighs only makes you gush even more, feeling the warmth slowly seep down to your tight ring of muscles. 

soft bf! jungkook carefully rests your legs over his broad shoulders, your feet resting on the taunt muscles of his back. You notice how his fringe falls over his eyes, prompting you to gently gather his hair into a neat ponytail, securing it with the hair tie from your wrist. He flashes a soft, sweet smile before leaning in to press a tender kiss to your stomach. “Ready?” he asks, his voice warm and inviting. His voice carries a mellow weight, causing your insides to pool with warmth. He carefully prods at your slick hole, He moves the tip of his finger with gentle, deliberate motion, his gaze never leaving your dazed expression. A faint smile tugs at the corner of his lips as you moan softly, the sensation of his fingertip slowly pushing into you, each movement drawn out with careful intention. Gradually, he deepens the rhythm, adding more with each gentle thrust.“Mph–mmh–” You gasp at the unfamiliar fullness, his finger settled deep inside. He doesn’t move, allowing you to adjust to the sensation. “You’re doing so well…” he murmurs, sensing the way your walls flutter around him. “Do you need more time, or can I move?” You nod fervently, it feels so good, too good to stop.

soft bf! jungkook groans at the sight of his finger, the faint slickness, and the soft trace of blood at your exposed opening. Slowly, he curls his finger back in, gradually increasing the stretch to let your body adjust to the new sensation. "Feels good?" His gaze locks with yours, watching every sharp intake of breath as his finger twists deeper. "U-U-huh..." you gasp, nodding as you tighten around him, your breath hitching with each twist of his finger, “M-M–g-gonna…” you stammer, your legs trembling with each whimpering breath. “Let go for me sweetheart,” he murmurs, pressing soft kisses to your nub, gently sucking the sensitive flesh as his finger continues its rhythm.

soft bf! jungkook pushes a few strands of hair away from his face, kissing your soft tummy, and gently rubbing your thigh in your overwhelmed state. “Shhh, it’s okay you did so well,” In his eyes, you were so adorable shuddering and mewling with every brush of the wet towel against your puffy cunt, so sensitive and sweet. He peppers an array of soft kisses to your lips, muffling out every whine, “너무 귀여워, 내 딸아.” [so cute, my girl.] He murmurs, gently nuzzling his nose against your own. You tiredly blink, a satisfied smile pulling at your lips, “Thank you…” You mumble, as his head finds its place against your soft breasts. “너무 사랑해요..” [I love you so much.] “나도요…” [I love you too]

soft bf! jungkook couldn’t help but laugh as Bam enthusiastically bounded over the bed, his wet nose pressing gently against your sleeping frame. The puppy let out a soft whine before curling up beside you, content.

"Aish, Bam... let's go," he said with a chuckle, gently scooping the pup into his arms. Bam had an appointment, and they couldn't afford to be late. Glancing back at you, still, sound asleep, Jungkook felt a swell of affection. He knew you were completely wiped out after last, which evidently pushed you to your limit, and you deserved every moment of rest.

The thought made him grin. He couldn't help but wonder just how long you'd stay asleep once the two of you finally took things all the way. The idea was both endearing and exciting, filling him with warmth as he carried Bam out the door.

Hope you enjoyed it :3 I'd really appreciate reblogs, interactions & likes! Thank you :)

[s7toru]

“spider! babe, there’s a spider in the house!”

your toast clatters on the plate as you drop everything and fling yourself onto the couch, four limbs scrambling to get off the floor. wide eyes seek out your boyfriend in the moment of chaos, and find him crouched on the tv stand, arms wrapped around the tv to hold him still. 

“where?” you ask him, eyes dropping to the ground. he doesn’t need to reply because you spot the creepy crawly darting cluelessly about on the carpet, eight legs crawling about in frantic panic. “oh my god, gojo! do something about it!” 

“are you kidding? you’re out of your mind if you think i’m getting anywhere near that thing!”

your mind blanks at his refusal. “you won’t have to get anywhere near it, dummy. just turn on your infinity and smack it or something!” 

gojo remains wrapped around the tv, already shaking his head even before the last of your sentence leaves your mouth. “that’s not how it works.” 

“really. then, please, remind me why you can’t just use your infinity to kill the spider.” 

“listen, even if it’s on i’ll still be aware that i’m squishing the bug. all its bug juice will splatter out all over me!”

“over your infinity.” you correct him. 

“you didn’t listen.” 

you narrow your eyes at him. “i didn’t want to get rid of the wasp nest outside our house the other day either but i still had to do it. and i don’t even have something to keep them away from me!”

“you lost the rock paper scissors, i had no hand in that.”

“well.” you say. “technically you did. you had a hand, it was a rock.” 

gojo rolls his eyes. “don’t be dramatic, i was supporting you.”

“from inside the house.” you recall his face beaming at you through the window, hand flashing a thumbs up as you were armed with only a rake and your willpower, and your frown deepens.

“and yet, i was still supporting you.” gojo pauses, considering. “you did well, by the way. i’ve never seen anyone smack a wasp mid air like that.” 

the compliment lifts some anger off your shoulders and you grin. “thanks! i was proud of that too!” reality slaps you across the face, readjusting your expression. “wait, don’t think you can change the topic just by complimenting me.” 

he shrugs. “it was worth a try.” 

you pause. “does that mean you didn’t mean it?”

“no! you were actually cool.”

you smile again. “okay, thanks.” 

“the sound it made was really satisfying.” he adds.

“right? like pow.” you gesture an explosion with your hands and watch as gojo gives you a skeptical look.

“really? i thought it was more like thwack.” his voice turns all dramatic at the last syllable and you scoff at his attempt.

“if this was a marvel comic the sound effect that would show up would be pow. in all red too, with crazy fonts.” 

“this is like you saying math is red—”

“it is.” you cut in, matter-of-factly.

“you’re so wrong it hurts. english is red, math is blue.” 

“why would math be blue?”

“because i feel sad doing math.”

“okay fair. but english is green.”

“none of them is green.” 

you furrow your brows. not because of his horrid opinion, but because your eyes had found its way back on the ground. you notice a lack of legs, a lack of a small, black creature terrorising the carpet. "wait, where did the spider go?"

the complain on gojo's tongue dies, and he looks around, too.

your biggest fear becomes reality, and when you look back up at gojo to express your concern, it's there.

something was crawling up gojo’s arm. it fumbles up the fabric of his shirt, swimming through the folds. your mouth falls open but before you can scream out to warn him, gojo's eyes had already followed your gaze. “it’s on me!”

“flick it off!” you cry out in panic, weight shifting as you edge further away from him, though you were nowhere close.

gojo reaches up, prepping his fingers for an attack when you realise the trajectory was aimed towards you. 

“wait, babe! flick it away from us!”

“then we’re going to lose sight of it!” the skin of his finger was turning white at the strength building up behind the flick. if the impact wasn't enough to kill it, the speed in which it hits the surface would send it to the afterlife. “no time to think!” 

he releases his index finger from his thumb and the force smacks the spider head on. it’s a blur really, as the spider flies through the air. you gape at it horrified, watching as if in slow motion as it soars in a beautiful arc, and lands directly on the very top of your head. 

you wonder if your scream could shatter glass. considering that your house still had its windows, you realise it couldn’t. though, you’re sure if you were tested again that it wouldn’t end as cleanly.

“gojo!” you scream. “i don’t ask for much but can you please get it off me, i’m begging you!”

gojo steps down from the tv stand, relief on his face. “thank god it’s off the floor.”

“gojo!” 

“yes, yes.” he makes his way, slowly, painfully, over to you as you crouch frozen on the couch. something in his smile told you he was very pleased at the sight. was that a cramp creeping up your thigh? oh, how you were going to make him pay. “where did it go?” he asks, joyfully, dancing around you.

“don’t even joke.” you hiss at him, and he laughs, reaching over to let the spider walk on his finger. specifically, he lets the spider walk over his finger on his infinity. 

he holds it out to you with a proud smile. “there! we’re all safe and sound now.” 

you glare at him. “what happened to being deathly scared of the spider?” 

he shrugs. 

you reach over and flick the spider onto his face.

a/n: brainrot save me, save me brainrot

[awkward-walking-potato]

maybe deadpool x reader where they don’t have a very good friendship in their life and wade finds them crying over it one day.? hurt comfort my beloved …

Cry Buddy

You never imagined that Deadpool, of all people, would be the one to find you in such a vulnerable state. You thought you’d have been able to keep it together, but some days, the weight of loneliness and the lack of meaningful friendships got to be too much. Today was one of those days.

You sat alone, your back against a wall in a quiet corner, tears streaming down your face as you tried to hold back sobs. You were supposed to be strong—at least, that’s what everyone always told you. But today, it was too much. The feeling of isolation, of not really having anyone to turn to, was suffocating.

And then, just when you thought you were alone, you heard a familiar voice.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold the chimichangas. Are those tears? In this economy?"

You looked up to see Wade standing there, tilting his head as he stared down at you. His usual comedic bravado was still present, but there was a softness in his gaze, something that made you realize he wasn’t going to just crack jokes and leave.

You quickly tried to wipe your face, embarrassed that he had found you like this. "I’m fine, Wade."

"Uh-huh, yeah, I know what ‘fine’ looks like, and this... this isn’t it," he replied, squatting down in front of you. "You wanna talk about it? Or should I just sit here and make awkward conversation until you eventually tell me what’s going on?"

You managed a weak chuckle through your tears, which only seemed to encourage him.

"There it is! A little smile!" Wade grinned widely under his mask, leaning back on his heels. "But seriously, what’s going on? You don’t just cry for no reason. Trust me, I know all about crying—especially when no one’s around to hear it."

You sighed, feeling the weight of everything still pressing down on you. "I just... I don’t really have anyone, Wade. No real friends. People act like they care, but they don’t. I feel like I’m always the one left out, or like I’m never good enough for anyone to really stick around."

Wade was quiet for a moment, uncharacteristically so. Then, he moved to sit next to you, leaning his head back against the wall. "You know, people suck. Most of them, anyway. And friendships? They can be like eating a bad taco. Looks good at first, but by the end, you’re regretting every bite. Trust me, I get it."

You glanced over at him, surprised by how genuine he sounded.

"But," Wade continued, "I also know that sometimes, you meet someone who’s not like the others. Someone who’ll stick around, even when you’re not your best. Someone like... I don’t know, me?"

You let out a small laugh, though the tears were still threatening to spill over. "You’re not exactly the first person that comes to mind when I think ‘reliable friend,’ Wade."

He gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his chest. "I am shocked and appalled. I am a great friend! I may not always show up on time, or... ever... but when I do? Oh, I’m there for you, 100%."

There was a sincerity in his voice now, one that made your heart ache a little less. Wade wasn’t like everyone else, that much was clear. He was chaotic and unpredictable, but at the same time, you knew that he meant what he said.

"You know," he added, "if you ever feel like crying again, I can be your cry-buddy. We can cry together. I’ve got this beautiful monologue prepared for such occasions—guaranteed to make us both sob uncontrollably."

You wiped your eyes, smiling a little wider this time. "Thanks, Wade. I guess... I just didn’t expect you to care."

He shrugged, casually placing an arm around your shoulders. "Well, surprise! I do care. And if anyone else says you’re not good enough or leaves you hanging, I’ll just—" He mimed slicing with an imaginary sword. "Problem solved."

You leaned into him slightly, feeling some of the loneliness start to fade. "You don’t have to fight anyone for me, Wade."

"Who said anything about fighting? I’ll just give them a stern talking-to," he said with a wink. "But seriously, I’m here, okay? You’re not alone. And I’m not just saying that because you have great taste in chimichangas."

For the first time in a long time, you felt a little lighter, knowing that maybe—just maybe—you had found someone who truly cared.

[the-other-art-blog]

I cannot deal with one more Benophie fan complaining about the lack of Benedict's artistic side in s3.

Aren't you guys supposed to like this character and understand him?

Everyone complains about the show's lack of accountability, continuity, and consequences. But here it is Benedict's artistic plot going through ups and downs for 3 seasons and fans complain!

That was one of my main wishes for s3: NO ART FOR BENEDICT. It had to be this way.

Benedict thought he had entered the Academy by himself, for his talent. He was so happy to have received external validation and Anthony's interference destroyed that. He destroyed his confidence. Of course, he abandoned art. He felt like a fraud.

If Benedict had resumed painting in s3, this scene would have lost meaning and weight:

What would have been the point of this dramatic moment if he would have been fine next season?

In the book, part of Benedict's arc is growing confident in his art. He has been hiding his talent forever (even more than in the show) because he's afraid and Sophie helps him realize he's an artist. The show found a way to show his art since s1, and still follow the book.

This was not the final season, we still have to see HIS season where all of this needs to be resolved. His season is when he needs to regain confidence and share his art with everyone again, thanks to Sophie.

Yes, it was sad to see Benedict holding a newspaper instead of a sketchbook, BUT IT WAS NECESSARY FOR HIS CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT!!!!!

That brief exchange with Paul said everything the audience needed to know about his art in s3:

Paul asks him if he paints (Paul was being a bit of a jerk here, too judgemental just because Ben is part of the ton, but I get it)

How heartbreaking this was!

He couldn't have said 'yes' even if he talked in past tense because Paul would have asked more. 'Why did you give it up?' And what was he supposed to say: 'My brother paid my way into the Academy'? Of course, he said no. The writers did not forget about s1 and s2, they simply were writing a coherent storyline. Benedict's still not over the betrayal and hurt he felt at the end of s2.

In the meantime, Ben has been filling the hole art left in his heart with work during Anthony's honeymoon. Once that is gone, Ben becomes a jerk (I've talked about this in this post after seeing part 1: x) He's extra grumpy and out-of-character but it makes sense narratively because he's frustrated.

It only gets better when he meets Tilley. She is a temporary solution to his frustration. Once he began his affair with her, he went back to his normal, charming self at balls. This is what he does, what he did for 3 seasons. Sex is like a palliative treatment for whatever turmoil he has inside (see how amazingly appropriate this is for Benophie?)

Moreover, Benedict's sexuality needed to be addressed BEFORE his season. Or would you have preferred to do it while Sophie was there?

Thanks to CVD, who refused to address this matter in s2, Jess had to do it in s3. Honestly, Jess did a lot of fixing this season.

This way Benedict is at peace with that part of himself that had been causing so much anxiety since he met Granville. Not only did Tilley offer a momentary escape valve for his frustration, but she helped him accept a part of his identity AND encouraged him to find love. Honestly, the hate she gets from the Benophie fandom is shameful. She did nothing wrong and only helped and supported Benedict. (Plus Luke Thompson loved those scenes, so 🤷‍♀️)

I shouldn't get so upset about other people's opinions, but honestly. These comments come from people who declare to be stans and queens of the fandom. They also have been in a 2-year tantrum and hate campaign against s3, so not really surprised.

It's so funny because if there's one character that has been written exquisitely, it's Benedict. He's the writers' favorite, 100%. Everything he has done makes total sense and prepares him for Sophie.

[fowlblue]

quick Artemis sketch for a new AU that I’ve been thinking about-

Kinda long and convoluted AU plot but I’ve been listening to TAI and the mental image of Artemis in a big old fluffy coat possessed me, so-

The Fowl Star deal’s been in the works for a really, really long time, and anger between Fowl Senior and Britva appeared pretty much immediately, as often happens with such criminals. Neither want to work with the other and Britva in particular is already planning on blowing the Fowls to smithereens whenever they come sailing over- but then while he’s wandering back down the Manor stairs after another meeting, he actually bumps into young Artemis, who Tim has largely tried to keep removed from Britva’s attention, because Britva is a dangerous man.

A fair caution, as it turns out, because Britva’s solution to hitting the Fowls where it hurts is to just kidnap the little Fowl heir.

Artemis is very young, enough so that he can be raised to believe just about anything, after all, and forget his former home entirely, which is wonderfully dramatic and no doubt a very painful premise to Tim and Angeline. Who knows? Maybe Artemis could one day be raised to kill his father- in the meantime, it’s a living warning not to encroach on Mafiya territory, because their son’s now in the line of fire.

Except Britva is shit at raising anything and largely just ignores Artemis’s existence, passing off his care onto any of his underlings who are free at the moment and making no effort to hide their criminal dealings. Artemis also lacks the sort of bloodthirstiness and toughness that anyone expects, raised in such a violent environment- instead of a potential heir to this new criminal empire, Artemis really just spends most of his time frightened and skittish. He’s also smart enough to easily know he’s “adopted”… he just has no idea who he really is, either, no last name, barely remembers what his parents sounded/looked like… for all he knows, they’re dead, and he’s in big trouble if he starts trying to figure it out.

I don’t know how exactly how Artemis would meet Holly, though he eventually would somehow- and given that Holly has some sympathy for humans, and Artemis wouldn’t be an antagonist to her in this AU and is moreso just… a very scared kid who just happens to be a genius, I’d like to think she’d at least want to help him, even if she can’t, really (not at first, anyways). I’m thinking Artemis wanders off while following around his latest babysitter (who’s probably disposing of some unfortunate victim or another out in the snow) and accidentally stumbles upon one of the few “fairy forts” up north and gets stuck there. Not ideal for a Mud Man, much less a Mud Boy so Holly gets sent up there to let him out of chute dock or what-not.

Foaly gets a little interested in the matter too, once he hears about it from Holly- after all, the Artemis Fowl II case was one of the largest missing persons cases in recent human history

Holly’s struggling with the weight on her conscious about whether or not they should somehow tell his parents (Foaly could always just drop the information in someone’s inbox, after all)- the centaur points out, however, that it’s probably not a matter of the Fowls not knowing who’s responsible- they just can’t get to Artemis safely. And it’s not fairy business.

(It could rapidly become fairy business, though- Artemis meets one, and suddenly, he wants to meet them again. It’s a welcome distraction from everything else he’s dealing with)

Artemis wouldn’t have the same resources, skills or the same criminal history as normal Artemis, since he’s never really been allowed to go anywhere else- this Artemis would, however, likely know how to use a weapon… even if he’s not very good at it. Instead of like… stealing priceless artwork or whatever, this Arty carries around a little box of matches, and whenever the criminal urge hits him, he goes and starts a small fire somewhere (always where there’s no risk of anybody getting hurt)

Other notes:

- Very few people in the Mafiya actually know Artemis’s first name (and they’re not allowed to call him “Fowl” under any circumstances), so a nickname that gets passed around for him is “Matchstick Boy”, due to Artemis’s aforementioned habit of carrying them around.

- What Artemis lacks in classical skills (no violin, piano playing or time spent painting for this Arty, no matter how much he really wants to learn), he makes up for in more street smarts than canon, such as picking locks or pickpocketing. Such skills come in handy for him in such a harsh environment.

- Upon eventually reuniting with the Fowls and Butlers, he’s most unnerved by Butler himself, simply because the bodyguard seems at first glance like someone Artemis has learned to avoid. Arty doesn’t even know where to start with Juliet- he’s interacted with other children even less than in canon.

- Artemis can’t be mind-wiped after meeting Holly due to the difficulty of navigating Russia’s cold and radioactivity for the People, so Holly and Foaly start humoring Artemis’s attempts at conversation in an effort to keep an eye on him and what he knows- the benefit of Artemis being a child is that no one would believe him if he did say something. Eventually, it becomes less about keeping an eye on him and more just checking on him in general, even if both don’t really know how to help him- sometimes, Artemis is injured, or behaves as if he’s in active danger. Sometimes, he just seems desperately lonely. He has no friends, no real parents or family… Holly is one of the few people to ever be kind to him, and actually help him out (if he hadn’t found the way out of that shuttle port, he may well have froze). Usually, Artemis has to look out for himself.

- While he knows he’s not Britva’s actual son (it’s fairly obvious, they look nothing alike), Artemis doesn’t hate him. He doesn’t really know how to. The man and his underlings are undeniably evil and cruel, but that’s all Artemis remembers, so he sees it as less a matter of right and wrong and more a matter of illegal/legal. Still, he doesn’t like hurting people- he knows that much.

And voila! There you go! Idk I just think it’d be a neat twist, “raised by villains” is a pretty classic AU.

[ofswanlake]

do you think i’ve forgotten about you?

characters park nari (oc), jeon jungkook

words 651

warnings none, set in present time around the first week of January 2024.

“Is it fun?”

Nari can see his smile when he says, “Yeah. Not as bad as I thought it’d be.” Similarly, she can see his smile fall when he thinks out loud, “I miss you, though. And I hate that it’s like this.”

She shakes her head, leaning back in her bed as Bam jumps up on the bed, laying his head in her lap. She smoothes a hand down his head softly, a contrast from her mood and words, “I wish I could say I can’t believe they’d go this low. I honestly should’ve expected it.”

“I wish I was there with you,” Jungkook’s voice is lower, like it’s just for them. “I don’t like that you’re dealing with this alone.”

“I’m not all alone,” she pouts slightly, “I have the girls with me. I was staying at Lisa’s for a bit and then we went to Paris, you already know this I don’t know why I’m telling you again.” His soft laugh makes her smile. “But really, I’m being taken care of. It’s honestly getting better between me and Rosie, so it’s more bearable.”

Her reassurances lighten the weight on his shoulders a little bit, but then he remembers, voice taking a solemn tone, “But isn’t Minwoo still sending letters to YG? I don’t know how they haven’t found him yet when he’s literally having mailing letters.” He sighs heavily, “I just wish I could …” He pauses, not allowing himself to speak it out loud when there are people nearby on his end. “They should let me have three minutes with him alone,” he jokes to make her laugh.

Nari finds herself grinning, small chuckles leaving her mouth as she rubs Bam’s ear in between two of her fingers. “Yeah, but I don’t think he’s found here yet, so,” she sighs. “Did you call your mom?”

“I did, but she kept yelling at me to call you instead so I just hung up,” his smile is evident in his voice. “Tell her I love her.”

“OK,” she giggles, getting more comfortable in her bed as a yawn leaves her mouth. “I miss you. Want you here next to me and Bam. He misses you, too.”

“I miss and love you guys,” Jungkook sighs loudly and dramatically, “More than I think I can take, actually. I think my heart genuinely started hurting when I was thinking of you.”

“I don’t know how other people do this,” she groans suddenly, “I am not God’s strongest soldier. I should have my boyfriend with me at all times!”

The slight tantrum makes Jungkook throw his head back, chest warming as he laughs. “Twenty four seven?”

“Yes.”

“Even when you get sick and tired of me?” Jungkook chuckles.

“I could never,” Nari’s smiling so hard she thinks her smile will split her face. She feels like kicking her feet in the air, but Bam’s sleeping.

“You would say otherwise four years ago,” Jungkook scoffed and she shakes her head.

“That was different,” she hums, getting under the blankets and turning off her bedside table light. A lone nightlight and the city’s lights lit up her bedroom. Her eyes felt heavy suddenly, “I … I can handle this. Don’t worry about me. I’m a big girl, and I can handle famous world superstar Jungkook’s fans.”

Jungkook knows firsthand how people could be, but he decides to placate her and agree, immediately able to tell she was about to fall asleep. “I know,” he says softly. “Are you eating well?”

With the lack of response, he smiles solemnly, wishing he was right by her, holding her to sleep. “Goodnight, baby, I love you,” he says to no one in particular before hanging up the phone. He stares down at his shoes before running a hand over his shaved head.

The world was cruel, and all he wanted to do was hold her in his arms.

[gunilslaugh]

Betrayed Friendship

Lee Jooyeon Summary: Jooyeon was more than happy with your two’s relationship. That was until he found out his best friend, Jiseok, had feelings for you too. (non-idol au) WC:~1.1k Warning: angsty?

photos not mine credits to owner.

“Gunil you’re supposed to be one of the responsible ones in our friend group, yet right now you can’t even stand up straight!” Jungsu complained as a very intoxicated Gunil was basically leaning all his weight into Jungsu’s side.

“Jungsu, do you think our friendship is as strong as our little nuggets, Jiseok and Jooyeon’s?” Gunil drunkenly rambled. 

“Why are you talking about our friendship? Are you going to admit you’re actually jealous of us?” Jooyeon said playfully. 

“I’m not jealous, but I do greatly admire it. I mean the fact that you two are still best bros despite Jiseok being in love with y/n. Jungsu is my number one, but if I ever found out he was in love with my girl, our friendship would definitely be strained.” Gunil patted Jungsu on the chest.

The color in Jiseok’s face drains. He knew Gunil could blab while drunk, but he never thought that he would reveal his darkest secret. Meanwhile Jooyeon froze in his place. It felt like his brain was racing with thoughts, yet also empty at the exact same time. 

“What did you just say?” Jooyeon questioned, still frozen in his place. 

“That Jungsu is my number one,” Gunil said as he made a bit of an effort to stand up on his own.

“No after that-”

“He’s drunk,” Jiseok cut in. “Dude is just talking nonsense, you know how he is. Right Jungsu?” Jiseok’s eyes were desperate for Jungsu to help him. Jungsu being the very sympathetic man that he is, tried to help.

“Yeah, you know how Gunil loves to tell his stories, even though they’re not always true.” 

“I have never told a story that is not true!” Gunil proclaimed lifting up a single finger. “One night I came home to mine and Jungsu’s shared apartment only to find poor Jiseok crying in Jungsu’s arms. He was so upset and didn’t know what to do because he was in love with y/n and felt like he was betraying your friendship,” Gunil dramatically, drunkenly, told. 

“Jiseok.” Jooyeon seriously turned in Jiseok’s direction. 

“He’s just really drunk and out of it I swear. I don’t like y/n,” Jiseok denied. Jooyeon can tell by the panicked look in his eyes and the way he’s fiddling with his belt loop, a habit Jooyeon noticed that Jiseok does when he’s nervous, that Jiseok is lying.

“Jungsu?” Jooyeon turned to look at Jungsu, trusting him to be honest. Jungsu’s eyes shift between Jiseok and Jooyeon. Jiseok’s eyes begging him to not tell Jooyeon and Jooyeon’s eyes begging for the truth. 

“We should Gunil home before he pukes,” Jungsu answered. He didn’t want to hurt either of them. However Jungsu’s lack of an answer is also the answer. If Jiseok really didn’t feel anything for y/n then Jungsu would have just said so. Jooyeon sighs, Jiseok feels like he wants to throw up, Jungsu’s heart feels heavy, Gunil is halfway passed out on Jungsu’s shoulder. Beginning completely oblivious to the situation he just caused.

“Yeah you should get Gunil home, but I think Jiseok and I need to talk,” Jooyeon said.

“Jooyeon, it's really not that serious,” Jiseok stated. He wanted nothing more than to be out of this situation. 

“Then we shouldn’t have any problems discussing it,” Jooyeon countered. Jiseok wants to continue to try and deny, to try and escape his impending doom, but he knows it’s no use. Now that Jooyeon knows his guilty secret they’re going to have to talk it out. Jiseok sighs and hangs his head low. 

“Ok, let’s talk,” Jiseok disheartenedly agreed. Jooyeon and Jiseok say their semi-awkward goodbyes to Jungsu and Gunil. Watching as Jungsu drags a Gunil on their way. The tension rises very quickly between the two. The air around them almost feels too thick to breathe. 

“How long?” Jooyeon finally spoke after what felt like forever. Jiseok takes a deep breath, and takes a seat on the side of the curb. 

“...Since before you two even got together,” Jiseok revealed. Jooyeon's eyes almost bulge out his head. 

“How could you not tell me?” Jooyeon sounded very hurt. “We’re best friends,” Jooyeon states as he sits down beside Jiseok, with a bit more space between them than normal. 

“That’s why I couldn’t tell you. It was so clear from the first time that their name came out of your mouth that you were head over heels for them. How was I supposed to tell you that....” Jiseok trails off, his throat becoming tight. “That I…shared the same feelings for them that you did?” 

“If you had told me I wouldn’t have gotten with them,” Jooyeon says.

“I know and that’s why I didn’t tell you. Y/n makes you the happiest I’ve ever seen you. I couldn’t take that away from you because of my own stupid feelings,” Jiseok argued. 

“They’re not stupid feelings!” Jooyeon quickly declared. 

“They are. They are stupid. Because I’ve them I’ve put our whole friendship at risk!” Jiseok raised his voice. 

“Our friendship is not at risk. I wouldn’t let our friendship end over a girl Jiseok,” Jooyeon tried to soothe. 

“But I’ve betrayed you,” Jiseok chokes. 

“No, you haven’t,” Jooyeon said. 

“Yes, I have,” Jiseok insisted. “Because if I was really your best friend I shouldn’t be thinking about being with her. I shouldn’t be imaging myself in your place when I see you two together. I shouldn’t have the twisted thought that if she ever kissed me, not that she ever would, but if it happened I don’t think I would push her away, not right away at least. I can’t say that my heart doesn’t feel a jab anytime I see you with her either, so are you really still going to say I haven’t betrayed our friendship? I’m in love with your girlfriend Jooyeon,” Jiseok’s eyes are glossed over as he tries his very best to keep himself composed. As Jiseok speaks the last sentence it feels like the gravity of the situation plows into Jooyeon. However he still doesn’t feel betrayed by Jiseok. He’s mad that he never told him about how he felt, yes, but more so he feels a sense of pain for much Jiseok had to have been hurting all this time. 

“But I’ve failed to notice how hurt you’ve been all this time, so I’d day I’ve betrayed our friendship too.” Jooyeon’s eyes are glossed over too. 

“What do we do now?” Jiseok asked. 

“I don’t know,” Jooyeon replied honestly. “But I meant what I said. I won’t let our friendship end over a girl.” Jiseok and Jooyeon remain sitting on the curb of the sidewalk, letting the night pass them by. Neither of them know what to do next, they can only let the strength of their friendship guide them.

taglist: @purplelady85 @gingerjunhan @chewednails @ezlynkisses @mon2sunjinsuver @mxlly143 @seungseung-minmin

A/N: Sorry that this isn't really y/n centric at all. I just wanted to try something new.

[jamespottersmixtape]

rosekiller microfic: goldilocks 1,632 words

a bit of soft rosekiller!! this is inspired by @myrows rosekiller art which you can find here! it made me want to weep a little when I first saw it, so naturally I had to write something haha :) ngl this has been sitting in my drafts for a while and it's by no means perfect but enjoy!! <3

Barty has always cherished quiet nights at Hogwarts.

When the chatter in the halls finally dies down enough for his thoughts to come back to him and homework has been carelessly tossed aside to save for tomorrow.

There’s a sense of serenity to it all that Barty rarely finds elsewhere. A break that he craves most at the end of a particularly stressful day.

Sixth year courses have been—to put it lightly, beating his ass—no matter how well he does. Today, it had taken him ten tries to get the nonverbal spell to work in Transfiguration. Ten.

Usually Barty needs no more than six tries for complicated spells, less than that for complex potions. Disregarding that he still did it faster than over half the class, now he’s just fucking tired.

He groans and shoves his schoolbag off the bed, letting it hit the floor with a soft thud, then flops backwards dramatically onto his pillows. The dorm room is dim, save for a few small candles on his bedside table. Cloaked in various shadows that dance around the room from the flickering flame.

Barty closes his eyes, taking a spare second to just breathe. There’s the soft white noise of the shower running in the background—Evan is taking forever, as usual—and sometimes Barty imagines he can hear the push and pull of the black lake against their walls. Lack of windows be damned.

It isn’t long before the water shuts off, and Barty feels the smallest smile tug at the corners of his mouth. It’s just the two of them for now, Regulus off doing god knows what at this hour. So naturally, a lot of built up restraint is needed for Barty not to rip open the bathroom door. To go and take in the sight of a freshly showered Evan and gather him in his arms before he can be stopped.

He’s been in there for less than thirty minutes but fuck it, Barty misses him.

Grumbling, he goes to change into the first clothes he can find. Settling for some years old joggers and a loose tank top, the soft fabric already making him drowsy.

The bathroom door creaks open and his head snaps up, immediately catching Evan’s eye. Barty really can’t help it when his heart skips a beat.

Evan raises his eyebrows, chuckling when Barty takes no subtlety in checking him out. His hair is dry, most likely done by magic. A thin blue t-shirt hangs off his shorter frame and each step taken towards Barty casts golden shadows over his skin.

Looking like everything warm and comfortable; the smell of his shampoo in the air so familiar that it hurts.

Barty’s smirk is wicked when he tugs Evan by his shirt into a light kiss. He makes a startled noise but melts into Barty’s touch regardless, fingers cupping his chin. The kiss is short but effective in making Barty’s head go all fuzzy.

“What happened to hello?” Evan asks when they pull apart—though not very far—now standing chest to chest. Evan’s bare feet fit in between his socked ones.

 Barty makes sure to slather his words in extra charm, grinning. “Hello, gorgeous.” 

“Wow, smooth talker,” Evan deadpans.

“You know you love it, Goldilocks.”

Barty takes a blonde strand between two fingers, tugging lightly at the end and earning him a deep scowl.

“I told you that nickname is stupid.” Evan rolls his eyes but Barty catches the blush high on his cheekbones. A light dusting of pinks and reds that work to compliment his freckles. Barty pokes him on one cheek.

“And I told you I don’t care.”

“Brat.”

Barty hums noncommittally, threading their fingers together. Warmth settles in his chest from the steady weight of Evan’s hand.

He leads Evan past the emerald green curtains of his bed and down onto the soft mattress. It’s a routine they’ve created over the last few months, and every time Barty wraps the covers around them it becomes harder and harder to let Evan slip back into his own bed. Something about having him in his arms means a night free of restless tossing and turning.

They lie facing each other for a few minutes, minimal space between them and their heads resting on one pillow. Quiet voices and even quieter laughs, a sacred bubble that neither of them dare to pop.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Barty laughs, his voice barely above a whisper. “You told Cresswell what?”

Evan frowns, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “I told him…that if he feels the need to keep staring at you in class then maybe I should tape his fucking eyes open. You know, that way he wouldn’t miss it when I inevitably snog you right in front of him.”

“Evan!” Barty can’t help it, his laugh is loud when it bursts from his chest.

“Well, maybe I left out that last bit…”

It takes him a minute before his laughter dies down, the quiet settling back in. “You jealous?” Barty teases, raising an eyebrow.

Evan purses his lips. “No.”

Barty stares at him knowingly.

Silence.

Evan averts his eyes.

“Mhm sure, come here.”

He drags Evan in by his waist, the pair of them fumbling around until Evan’s head relaxes in the crook of Barty’s neck and his forearm rests over his chest. Their sides pressed together, Barty smiles—fully content now.

Wordlessly, Barty ghosts his hand over the warm skin, relishing in the way Evan shivers from the cold metal of the ring on his middle finger.

There’s silence for a few minutes. Evan’s hair brushes the side of his face and his warm breath fans across his chest, their hearts only slightly out of sync as they beat so close together.

It’s a lot for Barty to take in sometimes—the whole idea of them. Having someone so delicate, yet so utterly untouchable, be his. If anyone took the time to ask him, though, he wouldn’t change it for the world.

Barty knows Evan’s eyes are closed, can see the shadow of his eyelashes. He takes the opportunity to trace over his freckles; a messy constellation that follows the high points of his cheeks, crosses sporadically over the bridge of his nose.

Evan scrunches his face up, which should not be so endearing. “That tickles.”

Barty turns his head, placing the quickest of kisses atop of Evan’s forehead, debating whether or not he should just give in and lick the side of his face. Then ultimately deciding against it—Evan did just take a shower—he’ll be nice for once.

“I wasn’t jealous. I don’t get jealous,” Evan mumbles, his voice lulled and tired sounding.

“Of course not, Ev.” Barty resists rolling his eyes, Evan can’t see his face anyway. 

“Besides,” Barty continues, “If you were jealous, I don’t mind you threatening people for me…it’s kinda hot.”

Evan smacks him lightly across the chest, but snuggles deeper against his shoulder. Which definitely does not do a weird flippy thing to Barty’s stomach. Nope, not at all.

“Mm okay,” Evan yawns. Which, Barty can’t blame him. Exhaustion is slowly taking over his body the longer they lie here. At this point all he wants to do is blow out the candles and fall asleep. Keep Evan next to him the whole night.

“Hey Goldilocks.”

“Mhm…” Evan must be too tired to even rebuke the nickname.

“Reg is going to freak out if he finds you here in my bed.”

Evan huffs, not very different from a petulant child. He makes no move to get up or even open his eyes. “I don’t care.”

This time Barty can’t hold back his yawn. He shuts his eyes and allows his body to sink further into the bed. Further into Evan. “Maybe we can tell Potter how madly in love with him Reg is. Then they can finally leave us alone.”

“Payback,” Evan snorts.

They both fall asleep without really meaning to. Tangled limbs beneath the covers and hands that aren’t inclined to let go. As his mind quiets down, something in Barty feels settled. A puzzle piece slotting into place after searching and searching for the edge that matches. Evan tends to have that effect on him, he’s come to notice.

All is quiet for a while, the whole school in a coinciding state of slumber. A time when portraits snore softly and only ghosts roam the halls, the usual lively presence of magic at bay for now.

But not even thirty minutes later they’re awoken with a loud thud and a significantly darker room—Barty had blown the candles out after all—just in case.

“Lumos,” someone whispers.

Regulus stands at the end of Barty’s bed, hands on his hips and a look of annoyance on his face. His wand is now lit and shining far too bright for Barty’s liking.

“What the fuck, Reg?” he asks groggily. Evan groans beside him and tries to hide his face.

“Not my fault I tripped over your fucking books, Barty,” Regulus hisses. “And you guys are gross. You said no PDA in the dorm.”

Barty squints and gestures for him to lower his wand. Regulus does so slowly. “Yeah, well I’m a fucking liar. Let us sleep.”

It’s with a lot of grumbling and a sharp glare that Regulus turns and stalks to his side of the room. When he shuts himself in the bathroom Barty reaches for his own wand and spells his curtains closed.

He has Evan back in his arms in no time, steady and real and here. Absolutely not going anywhere, if Barty has a say in it. His fingers resume their path over his arm, tracing nonsensical shapes that neither can decipher. Before they both drift off again a thought pops into Barty’s head.

“We are definitely getting him back for this.”

[answer2jeff]

narrow thoughts // carmen berzatto

part one: sprite

finally done with part 1! somewhat happy ending in part 2 btw, since i don't totally hate you guys or want you to suffer for once

synopsis: you and carmen were good friends turned strangers — the trauma bond from Noma still keeping you closer. you've noticed Carmen's hard work, and you worry terribly for him and his wellbeing. keeping quiet has never been so hard; being "friends" has never been so hard.

pairings: platonic!richie x reader – romantic!carmy x reader

english isn't my first language — expect some mistakes. feedback is always appreciated.

WARNINGS: friends - strangers - lovers, angst, fluff, NOT an established relationship, pre-existing history, ZERO use of y/n, reader is implied female, mention of the nickname "Pico," short for "Piccola" ; small (young), or even baby, in italian.

wc: 2.1k

You twisted the silver key at an angle, locking the glass door shut — the 'CLOSED' sign taunting you. You and your pre-existing staff expected to open in just 6 weeks, and you still felt like so much time lingered. The emptiness of the sidewalk made your stomach drop to your feet, the same way it did every night. You waited so impatiently for the opening day of your coffee shop to inch closer and closer; but you were uncertain, unsettled, and lacking confidence in your craft. Was simplicity really the answer? Should you have just stayed in New York? Were you just another, "Eleven Madison Park Dickhead?" Did you even want answers to these looming questions? No. No you didn't — not yet. All you wanted that night was a glass of homemade sprite, and maybe a real conversation with an old friend.

Maybe he'd know what to say, if anything at all.

So, you walked. And you walked, and you walked, and you kept walking — your dark blue crewneck sweater that went just past the belt line of your baggy jeans, a pair of pantyhose, white socks, and Doc Martens keeping you clothed in the Chicago cold. Your bracelets clanged against each other, harmonizing with the sound of the keychains jingling against your purse, clutched close to your sides. You finally reached the The Beef, the florescent glow casting a blueish green shine against your face. Another 'CLOSED' sign pointed a childish finger at you.

"Richieeee!" You wined, gently knocking on the glass window to grasp his attention — his back turned to you as he was telling Tina and Marcus yet another story about Carmen's childhood. You almost regretted being nice to him, but it gave you leeway; visiting after hours, special treatment, and even the nickname 'Pico' was coined after you.

"Richie, I know you can hear me!"

"Yeah, and he goes—" Richie reluctantly paused, hearing a familiar voice from behind the glass. His hands, frozen in the air, fell to his sides as he dramatically walked over to the door. "Shit, hold on. Pico's here." He groaned, slowly unlocking and cracking the door open, moving out of your way to let you in.

"Thanks." You breathed, crossing your arms as you took a step into the restaurant — immediately met with smiles and good night's from Marcus and Tina. Your eyes darted around the cramped space of the counter, not quite being able to see into the kitchen as you stepped closer to take a seat in a red barstool.

"What're you doin' here? You alright, sweetheart?" Richie asked, his tone only slightly annoyed from the interruption of his attempt to humiliate Carmen. He waltzed behind the counter, supporting his weight by pressing his palms against the metal as he stood across from you. He furrowed his eyebrows, wondering — completely disregarding Tina and Marcus clocking out and leaving for the night.

"Yeah, just uh — my stomach hurts. Like, bad." You sighed, sticking your elbows up onto the counter and resting your face in your hands, the stool next to you occupied by your purse. Richie only nodded his head, noticing your mouth slightly gaped open like you had more to say. Even if he was a childish asshole, he wasn't evil. He'd never interrupt someone who was clearly in need.

"And–and i'm just... payin' a visit, I guess." You tried justifying your reasoning for coming all this way. It was 9:47, and you hardly ever came around this late. Typically, you'd lock up by 9:15, come over and stick around till 9:30, and be home by 10:45. You must've needed something, he thought, but he chose not to pester you tonight.

Please don't ask.

"Alright.. Yeah, 'ya look a little green. You wanna sprite?" Richie gently placed the back of his hand against your forehead, just reassuring you didn't have a fever. You nodded your head in approval. He walked into the kitchen, shouting "COUSIN! Pico wants a sprite! Make it for 'er, will 'ya?"

Carmen shut his locker as he nodded his head to Richie, mumbling, "be right there." He bit the inside of his cheek, his lips curling into a smile when he saw you through the tiny peak between the counter and the kitchen that you were too far from to experience. Admittedly, Carmen liked seeing you come in — bringing coffee for everyone in the mornings, and wishing everyone goodnight in the evenings. It gave him something to look foreword to. He liked the consistency; and hell, he fucking loved the blonde espresso macchiato you conjured up for him, the foam just a tad bit flat from having to travel on foot from the cafe to the restaurant with it.

You scrolled on your Instagram timeline as you heard Carmen mumbling to himself as he made your sprite, noting the clinking of ice against a glass cup and the crisp sound of the homemade soda pouring in. You gave Richie an air-kiss on the cheek goodbye as he walked out of The Beef, his lanky frame covered by his leather jacket. You smiled again at the sight of Carmen politely delivering your drink, putting your phone away in the pocket of your jeans.

"Why thank you!" You cooed, looking into his big, blue eyes that didn't really know what to focus on. You took in every feature: his curly dirty-blonde locks in need of trimming, his big and arched nose, the round shape of his chin. You were staring, your stare never leaving his figure as he set the glass down on the counter, and he couldn't help but smile back.

He was perfect — it was almost scary.

"Pleasure." Carmen chuckled, placing a warm hand on the back of his neck as he thought of what else to say. He couldn't remember the last time you two were alone. The closest thing was him coming over to your apartment in broad daylight to help you get rid of the green, god awful futon in your living room that was covered in weird stains.

"You've got a weird definition of pleasure." You sighed, raising your glass to your lips and feeling the sprite ease your stomach. Your eyes rolled when you heard his obnoxiously attractive laugh; breathy and nervous.

"Yeah, yeah. I know." Carmen nodded his head, essentially saying "you're right, but respectfully — fuck off" without actually saying it. He picked his head up, watching your throat contract with each sip — the neon lights all around the restaurant displaying a purple glow against your skin. It was childish, but knowing he could make your night just a little bit better with a glass of sprite made him proud of himself.

"You feelin' alright? As best as you can, I mean." You set your glass down, resting your face in your palms as you blinked at Carmen, your eyebrows knitted in concern. You worried for him, no matter how much your brain reassured you that they grey crescents under his eyes were none of your concern. It was normal to never get more than 5 or 6 hours of sleep every night as an overworked 34 year old, right? It's a Carmy problem, right?

No. Fuck no.

"Uh... yeah, I—" Carmen's hands gripped tightly against the cold, metal counter, his foot tapping against the tile floor. He bit the inside of his cheek, diverting his gaze away from you and back towards the walkway into the kitchen. He was lying, and you knew it. He felt his chest heave at the question as he forced himself to look at you again; your face still expressing a sense of panic for him.

"You..?" You finished his empty sentence for him, getting a little impatient. Your manicured nails clicked against the counter, waiting for him to tell at least some fragments of the truth.

"No, not alright. Not really. I, um—" He paused again, his eyes finally locking with yours, completely unable to pull away now. You looked beautiful to him — elegant, even. With your hair messier than the way you styled it this morning, with your chipped and grown out manicure, and especially with your lack of knowledge that Carmen was analyzing every inch of you. He felt guilty for looking - more than he usually did.

"I've been having those weird fuckin' dreams again. A-and these panic attacks, I think?" Carmens voice went softer, a whine of fear in his speech; he finally let his guard down just a bit. It was like just looking at you calmed him down enough so he could choke out another sentence.

"Shit. Still?" You asked, your nails pausing their annoying clack and tap so you could focus all of your attention onto Carmen. You remembered Natalie mentioning Carmen's recent manifestations of his stress, often asking if you'd just check up on him every once in a while, just in case she couldn't reach him.

"Yeah." Carmen replied, his voice airy and unsupported. His eyes were blue and desperate, and fixated on every part of your face. It made his thoughts narrow down to you; your weird sense of humor, your artful hands that illustrated your frustration when you complained about your day, even the perfume you wore every day that lingered around the jacket you left at his apartment (which he still hasn't given back to you.) Why would he? How could Carmen not keep a piece of you in his home?

You finally caught Carmen's gaze as you grazed the condensation on your glass of sprite — and you could see it in his face; the exhaustion, the anxiety, the need for stability in his eyes. You saw what this place did to him; what fixing this hellhole turned him into for a second time. It felt silly, controlling, nagging even, for you to assume that Carmen couldn't handle himself. But maybe that wasn't too unfair of an assumption; even if Sydney tried to condition you to believe that not every Carmy problem had to be a you problem.

"Jesus. I'm sorry." You clenched your teeth as you thought about his nausea spells he'd get every morning, remembering the dozens of empty bottles of pepto bismol littered around the kitchen counter of his apartment in New York. It was like you could still feel the sting of stomach acid your throat when you ended up puking every night after dinner rush; your digestive system completely empty from the lack of time you even had to keep your body intact. And yet, it was fucking everything. Your calloused fingers from the knives and the rasp in your throat from crying felt like a trophy; a mark on your person that forever reminded you of how great you once were.

What were you even doing here? Opening another thrift shop? But this time, it had a built in cafe; a cafe you dreamed of serving the best coffee in Chicago? Wow! What an original, realistic and inspiring concept. Like Richie warned the two of you: neither of you had any idea what you were doing back in Chicago.

Is it too late for me to understand you?

"Is this even.. I don't know — fun, for you anymore? Was it ever?" You croaked, tracing the tip of your middle finger along the rim of the glass — watching the little bubbles in the drink rise and pop. The question almost struck a nerve in Carmen, it forced him to think; really think.

"I mean... 'fun' isn't the word I'd use." He shrugged his shoulders, his face contorting into that typical confused look he always gave you. It made your heart ache.

"I don't like what it does to you."

"I'm– I'm trying to... to do somethin' here, Pico." His eyebrows knitted as his hands gripped just a little tighter against the counter.

"I know, Carmy. A-and you're doing great I just– I miss you." You barely whispered, crossing your arms almost trying to defend yourself as Carmen's face softened. His stomach dropped to his feet, his adams apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.

You two hadn't had a real conversation since the night you decided to quit, leaving Carmen to chase his success and even become Food & Wine's best chef without you. You hadn't cried in front of him since the day after Mikey's funeral: which neither of you could bring yourself to attend to. You'd been back home much longer than Carmen had; him coming home was so bittersweet. You needed him here. You needed him in the warm glow of your apartment, on your vintage couch as you shared the leftover pasta carbonara you made the night before. You forgot what his arms felt like around you, trying so hard to remember as you glanced at his tattoos.

"I miss you too."

TO BE CONTINUED BITCHESSSSSS!!!!!!

[mackjlee9]

songfic idea of Leon

this is a song in spanish but it basically talks about a guy who's in a relationship with somebody and his partner is putting way too much distance in between eachother so the guy wonders if his partner actually loves him.

I don't want the angsty requests to be too repetitive bc angst with leon in my head with this type of prompts always involve ada 😭 i lack creativity but i try my best.

maybe the guy who wonders if his partner loves him is the reader and the partner is leon. maybe leon has been emotionally away, reader tries to get his attention but nothing works, in missions leon won't talk, reader is absolutely breaking inside. i can't really think of a reason of why leon would act this way so i'l leave that part to you 😭 though if u need ideas too i could think of something, i'm just very dramatic and love hurt lmao. this is just a little prompt so if i think of something i'll tell you bye bye!

Aveces hasta me olvido que sé español :p

Leon Kennedy x Male!Reader [Angst]

Please, let me keep the sad ending T_T I don't like happy endings

Masterlist.

Resident Evil

(M/n) pretended like he didn't see the signals, the way too obvious signs of their love falling apart. He just didn't want to acknowledge that what he had with Leon was already gone- that it was never there, to begin with.

He can clearly remember the first time it happened, it came to him one night.

Both he and Leon had come back from a difficult mission, and without much argument, Leon had let him shower first, claiming he had to make a call. (M/n) didn't question it since they usually had to do that anyway, plus he was tired and gross so he was really needing to take that shower and head to bed as soon as he could.

Already in their room, (M/n) plopped face down on the made bed, hearing Leon's footsteps down the hall as he headed to the bathroom, "You're gonna get sick," he called out on his way past the slightly opened door, making (M/n) grunt as he got off the bed and pulled the covers back, getting in properly this time.

Even if he was dead tired, he couldn't sleep unless he knew Leon was next to him, especially after this mission they had, he just wanted to hold Leon close and never let him go, so he waited for him to come in the room.

He heard the water from the shower stop, and a few minutes later, the bathroom light was turned off, followed by quiet steps approaching the door. (M/n) fixed his spot on the bed and patiently waited for Leon to come into the room.

But nothing.

In the quiet of their house, (M/n) heard the couch creaking under Leon's weight, and the clicking sounds of his keyboard. Maybe he had some leftover work to do, maybe Hunnigan asked him to do it now instead of in the morning. He figured it wouldn't take him more than an hour, so he waited.

And waited.

And kept waiting.

And now the clock read 3am. He sighed and kicked the sheets off his legs, standing up and walking to the opened door of the room, his steps quietly hitting the floor. He opened the door and walked out, stepping into the living room.

Leon was sleeping on the couch, the warm glow of the lamp on the table next to the couch cast a glow on him, making shadows around him. (M/n) sighed and smiled, walking closer to him, he probably fell asleep while working on stuff so he didn't blame Leon for not going to bed.

Out of the corner of his eye, (M/n) noticed a blinking light coming from his side, and he realized it was Leon's laptop. The screen was dark, but it was still on. He moved it toward him slightly, touching the pad and soon the screen lit up.

Many png files were opened, shining on the screen with an almost mocking glow, he felt his chest tight when he recognized the woman in the pictures. Ada.

He took a deep breath, not wanting to assume anything yet, if Leon was cheating on him, he'll tell him, right? So maybe he was investigating her because of a mission or something, (M/n) tried to convince himself that's all it was. He closed the laptop, turned the lamp off, and took a deep breath, blinking away the tears that started gathering in his eyes because of his anxiety.

He turned around and stumbled his way back to the room, falling on the bed and staring at the ceiling. He couldn't sleep that night.

///////

The next morning, (M/n) got up from the bed and decided to make breakfast, he kept telling himself that it was nothing and maybe Leon was gonna tell him about it, maybe he just fell asleep working on her file, so he managed to calm down just a bit.

And there he was.

"Good morning," (M/n) said while handing Leon his coffee mug when he watched him heading to the coffee maker. Leon grabbed it with a hum, and (M/n) leaned closer to kiss him, but Leon frowned and backed away.

"What are you doing?" His harsh tone of voice was almost enough to bring tears to his eyes, but he just let out a dry chuckle, mumbling a weak 'sorry' as he walked out of the kitchen, ditching his freshly baked breakfast.

It's okay, he's just in a bad mood, nothing unusual, I'm sure... I'm sure he'll be okay by night... Right?

When nighttime arrived, (M/n) lay in bed and waited for Leon, see what he was gonna do. His mind was overworking itself with all the overthinking he had been doing in less than 24hrs, he was willing to forget this day even happened if Leon goes back to being the caring and sweet boyfriend he has been for years.

And his hope warmed his chest when he saw Leon walking into the room and silently laying in bed beside him. But something was off.

He frowned and turned on his side, the light outside coming through the window, keeping the room illuminated enough. He fixed the sheets up to his shoulder and reached his arm to wrap around Leon's waist, cuddling against his back. Or he tried to.

Leon groaned and pushed his arm away from him, muttering something about being too hot. In a 10-degree Celsius weather.

(M/n) just remained silent and slowly turned around, facing away from Leon. A few minutes went by when he heard Leon's phone vibrating on the bedside table.

"Finally," (M/n) heard him mumble, and then the mattress moved when he left the bed, making (M/n) glance behind him, lifting his upper body with his elbow.

"Where are you going?" He asked quietly when he saw him putting on his jeans, followed by his jacket.

"Out," was all he said while putting on his boots. (M/n) pushed the sheets off his body and sat on the bed.

"Let me go with you-"

"No," his words were cut off by Leon, his voice serious and dry, as if he was mad about something.

"Why not?" (M/n) stood up from the bed, about to walk closer to Leon, when he opened their bedroom door, staring at him with a frown.

"Because it's none of your business, (M/n)," he felt his heart breaking at his words, at the meaning behind him, after all the things they went through... They promised they would always be there for each other, and would never keep secrets because things like this could happen.

(M/n) had a hard time swallowing due to the knot in his throat, nodding as the tears blurred his vision, sitting back down on the bed, "Sorry, Lee, I didn't mean to upset you-"

The door slamming shut cut him off after Leon had walked out, followed by the clicking sound of his keys, and then, the front door opening and closing in less than ten seconds.

(M/n) cried that night, staying up for hours wondering. Asking himself what had he done to cause this behavior in Leon. He couldn't stop himself from questioning their love, he knew he was in love with Leon, but... Does he still- did Leon ever even love him?

//////

A few days later, (M/n) was done with Leon's behavior, he was tired of this recurring pattern, and now he was in the living room, standing in front of Leon with his arms crossed as he waited for the blond to look up at him.

When Leon looked up at him, he saw him trying to hide the exasperation on his expression, but it was obvious he couldn't, "What do you want?"

"An explanation," (M/n) held his tongue back when he heard and saw Leon's scoff.

"What do you want me to explain?" (M/n) frowned and clenched his fists, trying to hide his annoyance.

"Your behavior, what's going on with you?" Leon simply rolled his eyes and went back to typing on his laptop, checking the files scattered around on the coffee table.

"I have nothing to tell you, now leave me alone," (M/n) pressed his lips together, took a deep and took a few seconds to calm down, he tried, he really did try to fix things, but... It didn't seem like anything wanted to be fixed.

He walked around the coffee table and knelt on the ground next to Leon's legs, soon making eye contact with blue eyes that looked at him with indifference, "Lee, can we please talk about this? About us?"

Leon stayed silent, and he slowly started leaning down to (M/n)'s face, only a few inches separating them, their warm breaths mixing.

"There's no us here, if that's what you wanted to hear."

And just like that, like he hasn't just broken (M/n) heart after all these years dating, he went back to his laptop, working in complete silence, like he has been doing the past week. (M/n) nodded, having heard more than enough, he definitely got the information that mattered out of this conversation.

"Sorry I bothered you," he whispered and proceeded to stand up, turning around and wiping the few tears that managed to run down his face, "I'll leave you alone," he wouldn't have gotten a reply even if he waited so he simply walked back to their shared room and closed the door behind him.

With trembling hands and blurry sight, he calls Hunnigan, walking to the closet and taking out a few bags, hurrying to put all his clothes and things inside them, hearing Hunnigan picking up.

"Hey, Ingrid I uh- sorry I called you so late but I-" he spoke frantically, not leaving the woman chance to mutter a small greeting, she heard (M/n)'s sobs and sniffing but she didn't comment on it, even if she was wondering what might've happened to him, "I need you to find me a new place to stay."

And that answered the most important question in her mind, she hummed slightly, "On it," she grabbed her laptop, clicked a few times, and sent him a few locations nearby and a few others almost outside the city. She didn't know what he needed right now, but she tried her best, "I'm not gonna intrude but... I'm here for anything you need, (M/n)."

He smiled a bit and took in a shaky breath, swallowing past the knot in his throat, "Thank you, Ingrid, you're truly the best."

As they hung up, (M/n) finished packing the few things he had left, he only had to empty his bedside drawer. He sighed and dried his face before sitting on the bed and sliding the drawer open. He took out anything he needed and left all the things that were useless to him now, like little notes he had written through the years...

His movements halted when he saw it. That box he was so nervous and giddy about, thinking about what was inside it always made him worried yet happy, because back then, last month, he was sure of Leon's love. But now... It was such a bitter memory.

(M/n) grabbed it and opened it, the ring shining under the light of the room, reflecting it and hitting the walls. New hot tears start dripping down his face and he released a choked sob, standing up and closing the box, throwing it on the bed.

He couldn't help it, it was too painful. His cries and sobs echoed in the room, seeping through the thin walls, reaching Leon's ears.

For a moment, he thought about checking up on him, but with gritted teeth, he focuses back on his laptop screen.

The notification sound of his phone catches his attention, and the thought of hitting something crossed his mind, but that wasn't gonna fix anything now. Nothing could.

He stood up and glared at the box, as if it had physically hurt him, and saw the post-it notes on Leon's side. He took a deep breath, and wrote down on the paper, taking it and folding the sticky part on itself, placing the note on the bed and the box on top of it. He grabbed his bags and looked at the room for the last time, nothing much changed without his stuff around. Leon wouldn't care, so why should he?

He walked out of the room and to the front door, he never spared a glance at Leon, not even once, he didn't want to see the man he loves, that same man that broke his heart without a second thought.

Extended ending.

"Please, don't think our love was a coincidence, something senseless. A love that goes into oblivion, something that doesn't matter. I truly love you, Leon, but maybe I was an idiot."

Leon crumbled the paper in his hand, throwing it back on the bed, his fingers wrapped tightly against the velvet box, observing the ring kept inside it. He clenched his jaw, and closed it again, placing it on his desk.

All night long, he couldn't stop looking at that little box. Wondering how something so small could mean the world to some people?

(M/n) was one of those people. He saw a happy future with him... But he could never give him what he wanted- what he needed. Unconditional love.