#then idk man maybe you're just selfish

[spicypussywave]

i see a stupid take on a show i had no interest in thinking about (bc others do enough of that) and now i wanna defend it and make op see how delusional they've gotten

[powerfulkicks]

just thinking about how there's no reality in which anyone but trump wins the presidency and wondering what america and the world is gonna look like when it's over

[amorremanet]

Man, I realize demanding that someone execute their own brother is pretty fucked up, but He Xuan asking that of Shi Qingxuan still gave them more respect than Shi Qingxuan ever got from Shi Wudu [gave them the ability to make their own choice after finally being given the full story and enough context to actually have the capacity for informed consent, something that Shi Wudu spent centuries denying to Shi Qingxuan] and also, He Xuan did nothing wrong and should be allowed to do all the atrocities he wants, thank you for your time

[omgfangirlland]

I'm going to need all of you to hear me out on what I'm about to spew, but I have yandere!batfam brain rot, and I just came across Yan!girldad!nolan grayson.

HEAR ME OUT!

Putting a page break here cuz idk how long this will be-

So- the usual neglected batsis that as a youngster craved the attention of her fam, but after being brushed away, after being ignored, after being straight up forgotten about, says fuck it, y'all aren't worth my love, I'll use the Wayne money to do as I please.

So she does. She uses the monthly allowance that is on auto pay straight to her card to do arts, to paint her heart away, to draw and play video games, to fund and pay off anything from homeless shelters to medical bills, trying to make a dent into the Wayne fortune both in selfish and non-selfish ways. She's basically a petty tween.

But then she wakes up with powers. She thinks she's a meta- batman doesn't like metas, that's what she thinks, she doesn't know Bruce doesn't want metas in Gotham due to Gotham being ground zero for meta trafficking. Boom, panic.

I think she has powers like flying, super strength, and like immediate healing if not "iron skin" like Superman. So she wakes because she hits the ceiling due to flying while asleep. She panics, falls, maybe breaks something, nobody comes to check on her-

Now, she always has toyed with the idea of leaving, but this? THIS? Breaking point, she packs necessities and the Wayne card and says bye-bye Gotham, good morning... Chicago? NYC? Idk, whichever place Omni man lives in ig.

The batfam, of course, doesn't notice. In this universe, I think even Alfred won't have been paying that much attention to batsis, man's too busy. So what if one day he does his rounds, cleaning, opens a door he hasn't been in a while.

The room is dusty. Dusty beyond hell, and one singular photo of batsis at like a kindergarten graduation makes him drop everything, including his heart. Old man goes feral, absolutely crazy, because where the fuck is this kid, this little baby, that he went and picked up because Bruce couldn't be bothered.

The batfam goes crazy too. In the mean time-

Batsis is, surprisingly, living her best life. Initially, she planned on getting an under the table job- clean a bar, babysit, be the errand girl of some shady drag dealer, etc. But Nolan sees her while she tries to get her powers under control, shakily flying, accidentally blowing to pieces a tree as she leans against it.

Omni-man as he lurks in the shadows: Debbie would love a daughter. I would love a daughter.

Batsis would call it kidnapping, Nolan calls it adopting without extra steps. Debbie takes one look at this shaken kid and immediately goes mama mode while reprimanding Nolan about taking a kid off the streets and not warning her so she could prepare better.

Mark? It takes about 2 hours before he realizes that they can be training buddies and that they have similar taste in some things. That's his baby sister. No arguments, just baby sis. Batsis? Much like a hungry, cold cat, she accepts her fate. It does feel nice to finally have some attention on her.

So she trains with Nolan and Mark, gets great, becomes a reluctant superhero, deliberately ignores Nolan's rants about her becoming such a great warrior, his little girl on the way of becoming the greatest conquror. Gothamite batsis just shrugs it off as just a Thursday.

Back with the batfam, pure chaos. Everyone is in shambles. How could they forget about a whole kid? Their siblings, Bruce's youngest daughter. Guilt is slowly turning into madness, and madness is slowly turning into a need to prove they can be better, that they weren't deliberately overlooking an innocent child because of personal pettiness, they were just distracted but now they'll right their wrongs.

Bonus p1:

Superman finally meeting batsis: What do you mean you're Bruce's kid? 😃 What do you mean you're a meta and instead of coming to uncle Clark you go and get adopted by murderous Omni-man? 🙂 What do you mean you kinda approve of him killing his enemies? 🫠

Batsis just wants Joker to die.

Bonus pt2:

Dick: What do you mean she's calling that other Grayson boy big brother? 😀

Damien: What do you mean I have another sibling? What do you mean she's calling that purple alien bastard her little brother?! I blame you, father.

Bonus pt3:

John Constantine: WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU GAVE ONE OF BATMAN'S KIDS IMMORTALITY AND MAGICAL POWERS?

The deity/entity batsis has been depicting in her paintings for years: *shrugs* I was bored, my little priestess was sad, she's not anymore 🤷

That's the plot twist, batsis is actually magical, but her powers work the way they do because that's the only way she knows how to fight with them. Magic isn't on her thought as a possibility, even if she was into the occult.

Cue John drinking for 3 days straight before having the courage(or will) to go to the Bat.

[sanguineterrain]

Jason is definitely the type to go feral over his best friend he hasn't seen in years. Hear me out: he's alive again, and not only that, but he's huge. Strong. People are afraid of him. So the reader is in town, walking the streets, and they meet again, maybe when he protects them as Hood. And reader is ecstatic to see Jason again of course and he's the same but also, all he can think is minemineminemine and I WANT YOU. mans is down horrendous for his sweet best friend that he missed and he's been in love with them for so long and now that he has them, he's not giving them up

idk if this was a prompt but i got inspired <3 thanks for stopping by anon

jason todd x gn!reader. feral jason i guess, but really soft jason. jason who yearns to be yours. jason who'd do anything for it, even if it meant one sided devotion... and also, jason who is loved by you. 1.2k words

****

"I don't understand why you can't come to my apartment."

"I told you why." Jason's posture is rigid but his tone is gentle. Because he has told you why he won't enter your home. Multiple times. Doesn't mean you don't challenge it every time you meet him on a random rooftop.

"It would be fine, Jay," you say. "I trust you."

"I know. But I don't trust everybody else," he says, words crackling through his modulator. That had frightened you at first; in fact, everything about a newly-resurrected Jason Todd had frightened you. From his height to the guns, you'd been sure that night in Gotham would be your last.

But then it had become clear that cheated death aside, nothing could kill his heart.

"You haven't visited in a while," you say.

You don't mean for it to sound accusatory.

"I know," Jason says. "Been busy. The Bats..."

And you knew. You knew the second you found out that Jason was alive that it would be like this, that he wouldn't be completely yours. He wasn't yours when he was Robin either, perhaps even less so.

And what's wrong with that? You have no right to ask him to be yours. To give you more.

But the recent distance has frightened you. Maybe it's for safety's sake, but your selfish heart wishes that he'd drop that for once.

Then again, there's always that dread in your stomach that perhaps Jason Todd doesn't love you the way you love him. And perhaps he never will.

"Well, I wish you'd call," you say.

This is wrong. You shouldn't be picking fights. Jason doesn't go dark out of cruelty, only necessity.

Jason sighs. "I can't. 'M sorry."

You cross your arms. It's chilly tonight.

"Do you even want to see me?"

He tilts his head. Dangerous.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want to intrude," you say. "You're busy and all the stuff with B, I don't—I mean, I wouldn't hold it against you if you—"

Jason takes two long strides and closes the distance. You swallow the rest of your sentence as he backs you up against the brick exterior of an abandoned apartment. Your heart picks up. You're not afraid; the fear went long ago. You're just... something. You're something about Jason.

The last time you two hugged was after Willis' death. You'd wanted to wrap him in his cape, thought maybe that would make everything feel as small as he'd been.

Now, a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier, Jason clearly does not need a cape. Right?

He takes off his helmet, lets it hang on his hand. His other hand is by your head. You lean back, let your neck go on display. Jason doesn't miss the movement.

"What're you doing, Jay?" you ask levelly.

Maybe he thinks you don't notice this distance but you do. You don't want to push him to talk about it, because as upsetting as it is, you're still strangers to each other.

You are and you're not. He died and he didn't. You grieved and you didn't. You burn and... you burn.

But you're tired of being and not being. You won't let him keep you in emotional purgatory. If he's done with you, he should just say so.

"If you don't want to meet anymore," you start, and let the words hang in the air.

"I—" he starts, then swallows. He tosses his helmet to the side. He doesn't touch you, just hovers inches away. Jason smells like lilac and gun smoke.

"I don't think you understand... my devotion," he says, voice low. "How much power you have over me."

Your eyes widen. "Wh—"

His green eyes reflect the streetlight like a cat's. The sight stops you short. Jason Todd is hot metal on a knife's edge, and it would do you well to remember that.

His hands curl into fists. He shakes his head.

"Sorry," he whispers like a prayer. "Not tryna scare you." His chest rises and falls rapidly. "'M I scarin' ya, sweetheart? Tell me and I'll go home, shake it off. Wait forever. I can be good. Won't want what I don't deserve."

"I'm not scared," you say, and it's the most sure you've ever been. "Not scared of you, Jay."

He breathes a laugh, like he can't quite believe you. His breath is warm on your neck.

"You'd be the first," he says. "The only one."

This, you believe. This, you have wondered some nights, knowing that even Batman isn't sure what to do with a son who lives with death on his shoulder.

"You don't have to devote yourself to me," you say, because that makes you pause. Who are you to be his god?

Jason laughs again, strong and sure. He sinks to his knees in front of you. His white streak glows in the light.

"You think it's a vice?" he asks. He rests a hand on your left thigh, testing. You lay your hand over his, so he holds your other thigh too.

He hums. "You do. You think you're holdin' me hostage."

Jason takes a shuddering breath and flattens his palms over your legs. Then he leans in and rests his cheek on your leg, nose near the apex of your thighs. Your belly flips.

"Let's make one thing clear. My devotion is my only redemption. 'S the only thing that makes me believe I'm not all rotted inside. Makes me behave. In this world and the next, I'm yours."

"I... Jason, you belong to yourself, not me. I don't—"

"You don't have to do anything. If it's too much, then I'll disappear. You can carry on."

You stroke the exposed side of his face. He looks up at you.

He is still. You have made him still.

"I'm yours too," you say.

He shakes his head. "You don't hafta—"

"Do you think being yours is a curse?" you ask, gaze sharp.

"Don't promise something for balance's sake," he rasps. "I'll be yours without you being mine."

Your heart is still. He has made it still.

"I'll keep coming back," Jason whispers, eyes wide. "If you're mine, I can't leave. Y'don't know what you're doing. Don't give yourself to me."

"I do. I'm yours."

His grip tightens around your legs. Jason shakes his head.

"Don't do it," he says into your thigh. "I shouldn't have anyone. I'm-I'm only meant to be yours. Nobody's mine."

But you know. You can slide your finger along his teeth and he'll wait with his mouth open. You can touch his edges and he'll turn his cheek so you won't nick your finger. He would sooner chew his own tongue.

"It's alright," you say, and kneel. You dirty your knees right alongside him. "It's okay, Jason. I know what I'm doing."

His breath hitches. Jason presses you into the brick, tucks his face into your neck. His arms wrap tightly around your waist.

"Sorry," he whispers frantically. "'M sorry. You can push me away. Sorry."

"I won't do that." You hold him and let him take you. "I know you're good. I thought—I thought you were pulling away, and I..."

"I was," he admits, muffled in your skin. "'M sorry. Was the only way I could think of to let you go. You deserve better. Couldn't think 'round you, honeylove. Knew it was a death sentence when I found out that you still lived in Gotham."

"It wasn't," you say. "Best thing that's ever happened to me."

Jason huffs. "You say that now, but..."

"No. I say it now and I'll say it again. Keep me, Jason. I'll keep you too."

[agoodflyting]

I think one reason why I'm so feral over Gortash/Dark Urge is because they're both such monsters. Just horrible people. Disgusting in so many ways.

It takes a violent lobotomy, an extreme parasite infestation, and then several months of torture followed by several more months of being forcefully resocialized before The Dark Urge even gets close to being redeemable. Gortash doesn't even get that.

Neither of them are pretending to be anything other than an absolute monster around the other. And we see that Gortash, at least, CAN pretend to be a decent person if he wants to. But he isn't even trying with the Dark Urge.

They are the purest, most vile versions of themselves around each other. The Dark Urge is a violent, sadistic, delusional fiend obsessed with murdering people for their god/father. Gortash is a selfish, brutal, power-hungry narcissist who treats everyone like tools to get what he wants. They both know this about each other from the start. Neither of them are hiding anything.

And that's why they like each other.

Idk man maybe I'm just middle aged, but there's something weirdly sweet about meeting someone who sees all the worst, most disgusting parts of you, the parts everyone else recoils away from, the parts even you yourself know are fundamentally unlovable... and realizing this person likes you not in spite of these things, but because of them.

There's something romantic about knowing you're a monster and accepting that fact - only to meet another creature like you and realize you don't have to be a monster alone.

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

˖✧ Through my eyes

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader ✦ Summary: Karen explains Mary and Arthur's story to you. Saddened, you're convinced you could never compete with her until the man in question proves you wrong. ✦ Warnings/Tags: Self-depreciation from both sides, kissing, comfort, fluff. Reader has been with the gang for a year. Use of Y/N. ✦ Words: 3k ✦ a/n: This is the answer to this ask by the lovely @crystalofmoon19. I really hope you'll like it, dear! And thank you for your support, you've been really sweet to me and my work! As always, I got carried away and wrote way too much. And as always, please reach out to me if you spot any misspellings. Also idk why I made this in Colter, guess I just feel way too hot rn and want some fresh snow + Arthur's coat is perfect for comfort. Credits. Arthur's pic is from my playthrough. Other pics are not mine found them on Pinterest. AO3

“And in the end, she rejected his proposal, then a few months later, sent him a letter telling she was marrying some wealthier gentleman!”

Your mouth hangs open in the air. Karen’s words enter through your ears and create a nice little nest for themselves in your brain. You had no idea. No idea Arthur had been this close to being married. That their relationship had been so strong, that, according to hearsays, he had reached his lowest after their break up, drunk most part of the day, fighting the rest of the time, obnoxious to everyone, even Dutch and Hosea.

“Y/N? You’re okay, there?” Karen asked you, disappointed her big reveal had left you reactionless.

You focused your gaze back on her. Her blonde hair is softly litten up by the setting sun, her breath exhaling a puff of steam as she breathes. Colter is a cold place, and it probably felt even colder because of the morose mood of the gang. You suddenly remember you’re supposed to be shocked. You are, of course, but in a very bad way. Not in an “Oh my God, I can’t believe this Karen, so much gossip!” kind of way.

How could you ever compete with that?

“Yeah, I’m alright. God, I had no idea so much happened between them.”

“Oh, trust me, it was definitely his biggest love story. Never saw him get into someone else after her. Not even Mary-Beth! Could you believe that?”

No, you couldn’t. You weren’t sure why but every word from Karen felt like an enormous stone falling into your belly and dragging you deeper and deeper into the sea. Your silly little crush on Arthur, when you first joined the gang a year ago, had turned into a way stronger attraction. Denying it at first, you had little by little let your emotions win, cherishing every moment with him, thanking Dutch for assigning both of you to the same missions, loving the quiet evenings where he would just sit next to you around the campfire to scribble in his journal while you would do your little hobby on your own. Silent most, but enjoying each other’s company, and so, so peaceful.

More than your emotions, you even had let your imagination take the lead, dreaming about a selfish future with him, seeing it every time he would give you a smile, or laugh at one of your jokes. A happy Arthur, relieved from his obligations, enjoys life's simplest joys. A house, a garden. Maybe a dog, considering he had loved having Copper. A marriage even. And why not a child? If he would feel ready. Something in you was telling you he would be a good father.

But now, you felt like this dream was rotten, condemned.  Like a broken match. The fire, the very thing it’s designed for,  not being able to be lit. Would never be lit. A wasted potential.

You tried to continue your gossiping chat with Karen, voice light but gaze elusive as you peeled the potatoes you were supposed to prepare while discussing, tedious tasks often ended up less difficult this way when you were working with the other girls. But behind your seemingly normal smile and hollow words, a haunting thought was hanging on to you as strongly as a rock trapped in a thousand-year-old iceberg. 

Arthur never fell in love again after Mary Linton.

Night had definitely fallen on the frozen mountains. After your endless vegetables centered-chores, you had helped Mr. Pearson turning them into a decent meal, his incessant blattering about the Navy giving you some sort of distraction. During dinner and after though, once you didn’t have any goal or job left to do for the day, your conversation with Karen came back into your wandering mind, her speech playing again and again like a used gramophone record.

Never fell in love again...

Sitting at one of the corners of the big cabin you had been sleeping in for the past few days along with the girls and some other gang members which mainly served as a common space, you were looking outside by a dilapidated window. A frozen World spread out before your eyes, every inch of surface covered in snow and ice, the landscape ending up looking like it was coated with a thick strange substance —dark blue colors Queen of this gloomy, misty horizon.

Arthur had returned from a very busy hunting day with Charles. Thanks to them, meat had been added to the vegetable paradise of a meal, resulting in a better-than-usual supper. He should have felt cheerful, but his mood wouldn't lighten. 

He had spotted you from across the room, noticing the hurtful absence of your smile on these sweet lips of yours. Smile he secretly loved. Lips he secretly fancied. 

Hesitating for a long moment, debating with himself, a self-depreciative rambling turning in his head like a well-oiled motor, he had ultimately decided to join you and investigate. Something pretty important must been bothering you, because loosing your usual little grin and eating your plate all by yourself really wasn't in your habits.

Approaching you, his boots and spurs clicking and stomping before you could see him, he plants them in front of you, standing there while his eyes lock on your face.

“Miss Y/L/N? Is everythin’ okay?”

“Oh, Mr Morgan. Yeah, don’t worry. Everything is great.”

He doesn’t believe you and honestly, you wouldn’t have convinced yourself either. And Arthur is a stubborn man. A stubborn, and caring one. He leans against the cabin's old creaky walls, on the other side of the window.

“Come on, don’t lie t’me girl. Everyone noticed you’re not in your right mind.” He honestly doesn’t know about everyone, but he surely did. His words are accompanied by a small, polite smile.

“I don’t think… I don’t think you’re the right person to talk about it.”

Arthur’s entire body froze. The hands he had on his belt as always when he was comfortable, flew to his chest as he crossed his arms, his thick winter coat folding with difficulty. His encouraging smile flattened, his brows pleating in a harsh frown.

“Erm… Alright, I get it. I won’t bother you, I guess.” 

Without loosening his arms, he pushed himself from the wall, taking a step to leave you some space. You couldn’t have missed it. This change of behavior, the hurtful expression he had displayed, as if he was truly pained by your words. Disappointed, maybe even shameful to have thought he could help you at all. He was just a sad, ugly bastard, after all.

You felt like you could hear all of it from where you were, and see it in the shadow that had taken his face and the gigantic mass that seemed to have fallen on his shoulders.

No, you didn’t want this. Didn’t want him to feel like that because of you and your stupid feelings, or your own dark thoughts.

“Wait, Arthur!”

He turned around the second you talked again.

“I’m sorry it’s just…” You sigh and look at him with an uncertain expression, knowing your next words were going to be risky. “It’s about you and Mary Linton…”

His eyes turn into two literal plates, his mouth slightly opening in outer astonishment. This was really not what he had in mind. You could have been sad because of a hundred logical reasons, the death of Davey and the loss of Sean and Mac, the complete fiasco of Blackwater, the hundred of dollars lost, the terrible and tough conditions of the Grizzlies plunging everyone into an unbearable cold and a threatening famine.  Not mentioning Hosea’s alarming coughing, Dutch’s mysterious decisions, and Micah as a whole.

But you, out of all these things, were worried about Mary.

Once his eyes had grown as round as they could, they got back into an interrogative expression, the wave of surprise over.

“Wha’…?! How d’ya even know ‘bout her?”

“Karen speaks a lot when she’s bored…” You briefly explained, trying to sound detached.

Arthur rolls his eyes to the Heavens. Of course, folks talked, and you had to know about it all at some point. But this wasn’t ideal at all. He would have preferred to tell it to you himself, at a time he would have felt comfortable doing so, with his own words. He didn’t want this to change anything between the two of you.

“And erm… What exactly bothers ya?”

You open your mouth to speak, but your words are jammed. Explaining that you feel jealous of what the both of them had shared would just come down to confessing your feelings for him plain and simple. 

You felt completely stuck. 

He’s right there before your eyes, the very source of all your worries and your every joy. Looking at you with those confused blue eyes, wondering what is happening in this pretty head of yours. But the words still won’t come out.  You feel more and more powerless, and instead of a sound, your eyes take over to get something out of your body, slow and sad tears filling them like a lonely glacier fills a mountain lake on its own.

Arthur’s usual frown furrows, his wrinkles more visible, contrasted by the shadows from the warm lights of the fire. Suddenly, his internal melancholic speech shuts down, as if the view of a single tear streaming down your cheek were absolutely intolerable to him. No worries nor anxious self-restraints crosses his mind —it’s now only instinct. He sees you crying. He has to help you. This is as easy as that.

His right hand reaches to you by itself.

It feels warm but coarse. This big, big hand on the side of your face.

“Oh, Y/N. Don’t waste those pretty tears for a sour-faced idiot like me.” His thumb gently wipes the drops of sadness that had overflowed from your two delicate lakes. “Come on, les’ jus’ talk about this somewhere quiet.”

Arthur gently uses the hand he had on your cheek to wrap it around your shoulders, solid arm gently pushing you up. He then leads you through the door, other members throwing curious gazes at the both of you.

But he doesn’t care. His priority, right now, is your well-being, and some privacy to allow him to finally whisper things in your ears he should have a long time ago. Not in front of everyone. Not with the other men looking at your sparkling eyes, and listening to the change in his voice he knew would crack, his usual intimidating persona crushed into a million pieces with only the sound of your own. Or with the other girls hearing the oh-so-important words he had to say. No. You would be the only one to witness this. 

He had brought you to the barn where the horses were kept. The snow was falling lazily, a few flakes passing through the holes in the dilapidated roof. The place is enveloped in a heavy silence, as if it was muffling every sound coming from the outside.

Once Arthur had closed the big wooden doors behind you and before he could do anything else, you finally burst.

“I shouldn't cry, I’m so sorry Arthur, I just… She looked like an incredible woman, so beautiful a-and distinguished, and me well… I'm just… me.” Your eyes fell to your feet. You like everything was coming out of you all at once and you couldn't contain it anymore.

“Stop it.” 

“How could I ever mean something to you? You've been with her for so long and even proposed to her and… and never fell in love again after her and…”

“Stop it, Y/N!”

Arthur cut your blabbering panic by pulling you against him. He held you so tightly you were almost crushed by his powerful arms, but it felt so good. Like he was holding together all the little pieces of you that had cracked, melting them with his warmth and molding yourself again with it.

“Now you l’sten to me, sweetheart. I don’t want ya to say things like this ever again.”

The sudden use of the pet name soothed your heart immediately. You buried your face into the furred collar of his big winter coat, the hairs tickling your nose. There, you can feel a little bit of his bare skin, your cheek finding shelter against it.

You stopped talking.

You just wanted him to continue to. His deep voice seemed to come directly from the inside of his chest, and you could feel it vibrating before actually hearing it.

“Ya know I’m no… Am no poet or, or good with words like Dutch…” He started, visibly unsure of what he was going to say. He’s relieved he had initiated the hug, this way, with your face in there, you couldn’t see his. The worried expression it was carrying, like a burden. “But lemme tell ya just how much I care about ya. Oh, my sweet girl.” 

This is it. He tries not to but his low tone begins to tremble. It’s so strange. It feels like forever since that happened for the last time.

“Yeah, Mary has been a real’ important part of my life, I won’t lie to ya. But it was so long ago, gorgeous. So long ago.” 

He knows he won’t shed a tear. He never cries. But his hands shake. His vocal cords vibrate in a vulnerable, softer, and higher-pitched quaver. His body tenses, heart as fast as if racing with a million wild horses galloping in the Great Plains. Even if his words couldn’t explain just how much you meant to him, you could have guessed by how you were affecting his entire flesh.

“Ya know what? It’s true. Our story ended badly. I never fell in love again after her.”

You sigh, more tears wetting your face and his blue coat, this truth so hard to swallow.

“Until that morning, when I saw you brushing Boadicea’s mane; your hair all covered in hay, the brightest smile I ever had the chance to witness on that sweet face o’ yours. That day, I knew my stupid foolish heart had done it all over again.”

You let out a single chuckle mixed with tears and emotions, so relieved. Even when you felt like you were at your lowest, he succeeded at making you smile.

“Grimshaw had forced me to groom all the gang’s horses to “get used to camp’s work”. Must have looked terrible.” You remembered with a smile, details of your first encounter with Arthur flooding your mind.

“You looked like a goddamn Angel, honey. T’was like the sun was shining jus’ for ya. Jesus, I knew it was too late for me.”

You pulled back from him just a little, enough for you to look at him in the eyes, but not for him to let go of you. Now that they had found you, his hands, still slightly quivering, refused to let go, their place on your back and behind your head feeling so natural and right. Your eyes behave the same way as them but with his face. He looks so moved that you have to pinch yourself internally to make sure you’re not dreaming this whole thing; never in your life you had seen him like this.

“I love you too, Arthur.” You confessed back to him, fingers cupping his cheeks in a delicate touch.

You had to stand on your tiptoes to reach his face, but his arm helped you, your lips gently discovering themselves, brushing against each other in a soft and shy caress. Even if both your mouths were chapped by the biting cold, it was the most gentle kiss you had shared in your life, a satiny embrace that left you completely dreamy and light-headed.

The snowflakes silently swirl around the both of you, Nature the only witness of your souls melting into each other.

Opening your eyes again after this moment out of time, you're met with the happiest smile Arthur ever had on his face. He looked like and idiot in love, and you were sure you looked exactly the same.

“Please darlin’, don’t ever compare yourself to her ever again. What’s in the past stays there. And I wanna have a future with you.”

Your dreams sprang back straight from your heart to your mind. The visions you had about the both of you were more alive than ever, reinforced by his own needs shared with yours.

“You’re sweet, you’re funny, you’re so smart and stunningly gorgeous. And, you wan’ a proof?” He playfully asks you, taking his hat off his head, a thin layer of snow falling from it.

Turning it over, he carefully pull a piece of paper out, hidden between two leathered segments in the inner part of his hat. His cut and reddened fingers unfold it and he gives it to you, his big smile turning into an embarrassed and sheepish one.

It’s a sketch of you.

You’re mesmerized by the details of it, the blades of hay messily tangled in your hair, the sparkling in your eyes, the exact clothes you were wearing that day. This smile, you’re more than certain he drew it way more beautiful than it really is. Arthur even had added some lines traced from your head to the end of the paper, as if you were the Sun itself and were emitting your own light.

This was impossible this was the same person as you, her beauty was too radiant and fascinating.

But no matter what you thought about yourself, seeing his work curled your lips in the exact same way as yourself on the drawing. With snowflakes replacing the twigs, you had turned into the living recreation of it. Arthur laughed when he noticed, and realized just how much he had loved you and continued to since that morning from a year ago. He bent towards you to put a small kiss on your forehead.

“Arthur it’s… It’s beautiful.” You find it difficult to find another word, speechless once again. 

You also had no idea of how talented at drawing nor attracted to you he was. This day definitely was full of surprises. You chuckled fondly before taking a last look at your portrait and giving it back to your lover. But Arthur’s large palm wrapped around your hand.

“No, please, keep it. This way, you’ll always remember how you look through my eyes.”

More tears threaten to escape your own, even though those were a direct extract from the immeasurable happiness you were experiencing.

“And... Now that I don’t have to hide myself while sketching ya, I’m going to draw lots of new ones.”

tagging: @a-court-of-valkyries Thank you for reading all of this! Also, I didn't know this was a thing but if ever you want to be tagged in my works too, let me know! It would be my pleasure.

[netherfeildren]

10:05 PM

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Joel is exhausted, you're there to make him feel better.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Post Outbreak; QZ Joel Miller; Somnophilia; Established Relationship; Friends With Benefits, kinda; Free Use; PIV Sex; Unprotected Sex; Creampie; Kind of mean and uncaring Joel, but at least he makes you cum; Rough Sex; Somno may or may not have been previously discussed, but she's okay with it happening; He's in kind of in a hopeless and numb state of mind (likely thing for Joel Miller to be)

A/N: idk man whatever i might look into religion after this

Word Count: 1.4K

Read on AO3

Ko-fi

10:05 PM

He’s exhausted.

That sort of tiredness that takes you away from yourself. The sort that takes away rest and peace and the ability to let go. Like you’ve crossed over the edge of the world where sleep is no longer possible, and all you are is sore and dirty and beaten, and you don’t think you’ll ever rest again. It’s just the too hard day, and the too hot sun, and a night that won’t ever end.

 And Joel is tired. 

He knows if he falls into bed now, he won’t sleep. He’ll stare up at the water stained ceiling, the cracks in the plaster deeper than the cracks in his mind, and he’ll find no rest and no peace and no forget, and all he’ll do is remember. 

Pulling his shirt over his head as he goes, he toes one unlaced boot off and then the other, the sweat damp cotton sticking cold and tacky to his back, and it peels off slow, a little disgusting, the grime of his shift all along his skin, in his hair, between his toes and under his fingernails and looking at you, the slow rise and fall of your shoulder as you sleep so peacefully, he knows he shouldn’t touch you, have you, know you. 

He doesn’t really care.

The button of his jeans, sticky, warm summer night air against his already hardening cock, and he watches you. You’re wearing a little white tank, worn and frayed and old as a long past life, ratty panties, too hot to pull the sheet over yourself, nothing but a sheen of sweat for cover. You’re beautiful in the way things aren’t beautiful anymore. Beautiful in a way that makes him not want you. But you’re here, and you’re his, and you give him things he doesn’t deserve, yourself, and Joel is a selfish creature now, bad and bristled in the way this new world demands, so he takes. 

All the time Joel Miller takes things. 

He doesn’t love you because he can’t, because he doesn't have it in him. But there’s peace here, or comfort, or something easy and silent and freely given. Understanding, maybe, which is all anyone can ask for anymore. He shucks his grime covered jeans and crawls over you, and he shouldn’t touch you, never should have, but he does because, again, he’s selfish, he touches you because you let him, because he has nothing else but this to feel good and man about. 

Hooking his fingers beneath the edge of your panties he pulls them down, slow and steady, watching the rise and fall of your ribs, steady heart in the steady rhythm of your breath. You’re still asleep, and he’s going to have you because he can, because you’re his without commitment or ask or demand. Because it’s easy. 

He pushes a soft thigh up high, opening you to his gaze and pulls your cheeks apart gently, dragging a gentle thumb up the crease of your sex as he goes. You hadn’t waited up for him the way you did most nights, and he’s grateful for this, grateful for the fact that you’d spare him from conversation, questions, wants. All the things he can’t give you and doesn’t even really want to because he doesn’t have any of that in him anymore. 

Sometimes, and he’ll admit it because Joel isn’t a liar, honest to a fault, he’ll feel that faint whisper, dream pulse of desire, like a thing he knows exists somewhere in the world just not inside him that beats of  togetherness or commitment or love. Something that beats of all the things he knows you want but he can’t give. 

His thumb against your little clit, and he circles and circles against the warm, damp dryness. You’re not dreaming of him, no immediate well of slick desire, and through his haze, it makes him a little bothered, a little sad if he still had the ability to be sad. But he circles and circles, and you shift and whimper, and then finally, eventually, there’s that drip of want. Sticky and sweet and only for him because he might not love you, but he does possess you, and you’re only for him. 

You turn your face further into the pillow, hips hitching, cunt dripping, a deep sigh and his thumb presses in, tastes the well. You’re warm and hot and tight, and he slicks his thumb in and out of your cunt, fucking you slow and gentle, stretching you a little while you still refuse to wake for him. He wonders what it would be like to love you, to know you dream of him, to dream of you. He shoves your thigh higher, wet enough now, and lines his cock up. 

Joel is tired, but he has this, and it’s enough.

Cockhead notched at your entance, and one thing he does still love: the sight of his too wide head against your too small hole, the sound of wounded hurt you make when he shoves inside and makes you all his. And he keeps himself slow and gentle at first, he doesn’t want you awake, that’s not what this is, he only wants you his and for him, until he’s all the way pressed inside, deep enough for you to wake with hurt and you shift and wiggle and your hips arch like you want to escape or want more but it doesn’t really matter anyways because you’re caught and flayed now. 

“J– Joel?” Soft as a butterfly while your cunt flutters around him. “What’re you doing, Joel?” And if there wasn’t the moan of his own little whore in the sound of you, he’d think otherwise, but he knows you’re pleased to be woken so. You press and clench and stretch like a cat, spine long and lean and fluid, arms reaching for something he can’t and won’t ever give.

He swings his hips back, fucks in again, your cunt’s good and wet now, and the giving’s good as the take. “Don’t worry, baby. Just gotta come. You don’t gotta do anything.” He pulls back again, your pussy flutters and sucks at him, and you plant your hands against the apocalypse stained wall of this poor and sad room in a place that used to be called Boston and let him use you as he needs. Just gotta come in you, he tells you again.

And you might whisper that it’s okay, it doesn’t really matter if you do or don't’. He doesn’t need to know, he doesn’t need to care. Joel buries his face in your throat and loses himself in the wet of your cunt and the heat of your skin, the scent of your sweat, fingers clutching and twisting at your breast, and there's a sound of hurt or want coming from your throat. He doesn't care much about that either. Just take it, just take it, he says over and over. “Just lay there and take my cock.” The sound of your wet, sloshing cunt is the loudest thing in the whole dead world, and he loses himself in it. He counts his breaths, counts his not blessings, only you, and eventually, he fucks deep enough he hits your womb, that place he’s reckless and careless about, and you start to milk him deep. A moan of his name, Joel, sleep addled, love deluded, what else would excuse or allow treatment like this, and you come on his cock like you always do. Long pulls of a too easy, too delicious cunt, the contractions of your womb reverberating through every line of your muscles while you suck him deep and cry into the pillow. Joel swears and sweats worse than he did through his long twelve hour shift, grunting and panting above you. And when he anchors himself above you on locked, bulging arms to watch the drag of your red cunt around his cock, slicked with desperate want for something neither of you will ever have, the way your ass bounces and jiggles against his too rough thrusts, he comes too. Fills you deep and full to the brim, enjoys the spill of it around the place where he fills you, spills himself dry. And he doesn’t feel content, Joel, but he does feel satisfied, he does feel sated. And he tells you that you’ve been a good girl because he knows you like it and knows you deserve it. And if he presses a soft and gentle kiss to the wing of your naked and sweating shoulder, it isn't because he loves you, but because he needs you. 

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

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[wcnderlnds]

love me like you | choi seung-hyun (t.o.p)

BIGBANG APRIL CHALLENGE - APRIL 10TH

・❥・ summary: you're embarrassed to tell seunghyun you're scared of storms but have no choice when there's a power outage and he uses one of his best assets to distract you. ・❥・word count: 2.1k ・❥・warnings: 18+, mdni. fingering. choking. seunghyun being dominant. ・❥・ authors note: idk i saw these pictures and this fic went a completely different way than it was originally going to. obsessed with his hands tbh.

It had been on the news all day about a storm blowing in. Every channel on the Tv, every station on the radio all talking about it. The advice was to stay inside, charge all your belonging in case the power went out and to have torches on hand. They always seemed to make it scarier than it needed to be but for you? It worked.

Storms scared the living daylights out of you.

It was mostly the thunder that did it - the loud booming coming from the sky making you cower in fear. Ever since you were a kid you’d felt this way. Whenever there had been a storm, you had always hid under your covers, crying, wishing it would just stop. Now, you were an adult but that feeling never went away.

The only thing was that Seunghyun — your boyfriend of the last eight months — didn’t know your fear. It was too embarrassing to admit to the man you were falling in love with. So, for your own selfish reasons, you really hoped it wasn’t going to be a bad one.

That evening you had plans to meet at Seunghyun’s place. He had promised you an evening together, just the two of you — he had even planned out a whole romantic dinner. To the outside world Seunghyun could seem off, maybe a little closed off but behind closed doors, he showed a side of himself he only ever reserved for you. A secret romantic side where he often spoiled you, showed you what you meant to him in stolen moments where nothing mattered but the love and connection you shared. It was something you cherished dearly. Those moments meant the world to you.

“Honey, I’m home,” you jokingly called out, the aroma of delicious food hitting your sense the moment you stepped through the door. He had given you a key two months into the relationship knowing that you were both homebodies. The comfort of his home had become a safe haven.

You followed the scent of the food, finding Seunghyun in the kitchen chopping something (without a chopping board because he’s insane) and singing loudly to himself. He was completely unaware of your presence. You too the opportunity to just watch him. The world hadn’t seen true beauty until the day Choi Seunghyun was born. He was the most beautiful human being, inside and out. His heart was made purely of gold — all he ever wanted to do was make the people around him happy. The world was often unkind to him, dealing him a band hand since he was a child. That had never stopped him from being the incredible person he was, though. 

“Something smells good,” you said softly, breaking the silence.

Seunghyun abruptly stopped singing, turning to face you with the widest smile. “Only the best for my princess.”

You walked over, wrapping your arms around him from behind, laying your head on his back as he continued chopping up the ingredients. “I’m the luckiest.”

“I think you’ve got that the wrong way around. I’m the luckiest.”

“Shutup or I’ll bite you.”

“Oh, kinky, save that for later,” he chuckled, the sound reverberating through him. “Why don’t you go sit down and get comfortable? I’ll call you when dinner is ready.”

You pulled away from him, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek before you made your way over to the living room, waiting for his call. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Dinner had been perfect. Seunghyun had gone all out, setting the table with candles, glasses of wine and your favourite flowers. It made your heart soar that he had put so much effort into just a simple night for the two of you. Whatever you had done in your life to deserve this kind, sweet man, you were so grateful for. Your heart belonged to him completely. All you needed was the courage to tell him. Maybe not now, maybe not tomorrow but one day. For now, everything was perfect the way it was.

During the dinner, the rain had started to pour, hitting the floor to ceiling glass windows of Seunghyun’s apartment. The first pelt had almost made you jump out of your seat until you glanced and saw it was just heavy rain. That’s all it was. No storm. Water couldn’t hurt you. It was outside and you were safe in the confines of your boyfriend’s apartment.

His arms were wrapped tightly around you as you curled into his side on the couch, your arms wrapped around his waist. Some movie was playing on the TV, you weren’t really paying attention, too preoccupied listening to the way Seunghyun’s heart was beating against his chest. The rhythm of it was soothing, almost lulling you to sleep. It didn’t help when one of his hands came up to gently run his fingers through your hair. Moments like this, curled up with him, were the ones you cherished the most. Your eyes closed, a content sigh passing your lips until the first crack of thunder sounded out. It was an immediate reaction when your body jumped, sitting up from Seunghyun’s chest, eyes darting to the windows.

“Must be that stupid storm,” Seunghyun mumbled, finally tearing his eyes away from the TV. “At least we’ve still got power.”

Now, why did he have to go and say that? The second he did the lights flickered off. Your heart began to pound wildly in your chest, your foot tapping anxiously against the floor. Seunghyun had got to his feet, padding his way across the room to grab the candles he’d placed out for your romantic dinner. He placed them on the coffee table in front of you, casting a soft, orange glow over you both. When he sat back down, another crack of thunder hit causing you to place your hand on his, grabbing it tightly. That was when he noticed something was wrong.

“Baby?” He asked softly. “What’s wrong?”

His free hand cupped your cheek, the soft pad of his thumb tenderly running across your cheekbone. You couldn’t help but lean into his touch, cheeks tinting red at how embarrassed you were at the fact you were scared of a stupid storm. “...don’t laugh at me but… storms scare me.”

Seunghyun definitely didn’t laugh. In fact, he frowned, his brow creasing in concern. “Why didn’t you tell me? What can I do to help?”

“I was embarrassed,” you admitted. “I wanted to tell you but… I thought it was stupid.”

“Hey, no. It’s not stupid. We all have our fears. Now, baby, tell me what I can do to help you,” Seunghyun’s tone was soft, his eyes scanning your face as if the answer lay there.

“Distract me.” Without even thinking you had begun to nervously play with his long, slender fingers. His hands had always fascinated you. It was safe to say you had a pretty big obsession with them – always very vocal about it in the bedroom. So, that’s when an idea struck Seunghyun.

He didn’t say a word, instead, he placed his hand on your thigh, slowly moving it up your leg and under the edge of your skirt. His fingers ghosted over the front of your panties. It was a featherlight touch but just enough to make you gasp. You were always so sensitive, so ready for anything he was willing to give you. Seunghyun’s lips found your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses all the way up to the shell of your ear. “Focus on my hands, princess. Nothing else.”

As he said that, the rain began to pour heavier outside, your head swiveling to look out of the window. Seunghyun took that moment to gently rub you through your panties, trying to get you to focus back on him. When it didn’t work, he grabbed your hips, pinning you on the couch under him so you couldn’t look out of the windows, the only thing you could see was him. His hand found its way back under your skirt, fingers dipping inside your panties this time. “I said focus on my hands.”

His tone was commanding, the huskiness of his voice enough to almost make you whine. You loved it when he got like this, when he showed the more dominant side of him. One of his fingers ran along your folds, coating the digit with your wetness. He groaned at how wet you were for him; it was always an ego boost knowing that he could do this to you. His finger trailed back up, his other hand parting your legs more to get better access. He found your clit, rubbing soft, teasing circles on it causing you to gasp out his name. 

“That’s a good girl.” He added a little more pressure, speeding up his circular movements. Seunghyun wanted you nice and wet before he gave you what he knew you wanted. In a teasing motion, he moved his index finger from your clit to circle your entrance, knowing it drove you mad. “Tell me what you want, baby. I want to hear you say it, beg for it.”

As you were about to answer in a desperate plea, a booming bang of thunder that shook the apartment sounded out, causing you to perch up on your elbows to try and look out of the window again. Seunghyun wasn’t having any of it, his free hand pushing you back down to lay on the couch, his hand wrapping around your throat and tilting you to look at him. “Eyes on me, princess. Now, tell me what you want.”

He dipped just the tip of his finger inside you, pulling it back out instantly. Your hips tried to chase him but he only smirked, shaking his head at you. What a cocky little shit. You were so going to get him back for this. Your voice was a whiny, desperate plea as you spoke the words he was waiting to hear. “Please, Seunghyun. I need your fingers, baby. I need you to fuck me with them until I forget all about this stupid storm. Please.”

That was all he needed to hear. He pushed one finger inside you, pumping it in and out in almost a torturous rhythm. You were already dripping making it easier for him to slide another finger in. You moaned softly when he curled his fingers hitting that perfect spot inside you that made you see stars. That was when he began to speed up, his fingers moving in and out of you as fast as he could manage. When you closed your eyes, your hips bucking up to meet the movements of his hand, his fingers tightened around your throat just a little, not enough to hurt you. He loved seeing you like this – cheeks flushed, moans spilling from your lips as he brought you pleasure you could only dream of. “Nuh-uh, open those pretty eyes. I want you to look at me when I make you come.”

You did immediately, gazing into his deep brown eyes. The hand around your neck, his fingers plunging in and out of you, it was all too much. Your body arched off the couch into him, your walls clenching around his fingers as you came. “Seunghyun!” You moaned loudly, his name sounding like the most beautiful sound coming from your lips like that. He didn’t slow his motions, making sure you got the most out of your orgasm. Only when you were coming down did he slow down, eventually pulling his fingers from you. His hand loosened on your throat, his eyes still staring into yours. You knew what was coming and it turned you on everytime. He brought his fingers up to his mouth, sucking your release off them, his eyes almost rolled back into his head. You were always the most exquisite thing he’d tasted. Better than any wine.

This time however, feeling a little emboldened (and incredibly turned on himself) he pushed his fingers past your lips and into your mouth so you could taste yourself. Your tongue swirled around the digits, licking them clean. Seunghyun groaned as you sucked on his fingers, the storm now long forgotten. One of your hands came up to grasp his pulling his fingers from your mouth, tongue darting out to lick the scar on his hand.

“Are you trying to end me?” He groaned, leaning back on the couch. His hands were now both back at his sides. Finally able to move, you crawled over to straddle his lap, immediately feeling his hard length through his sweatpants.

“No but we’re not nearly done here. I’m going to need a lot more distractions if this storm is going on all night,” you whispered, teeth tugging at his bottom lip, your hips grinding against his teasingly. “And, I think I owe you one.”

challenge taglist: @ldydeath @infinetlyforgotten @loveesiren @sevendaysummer @gdinthehouseee @eru-vande @bluesunss @emmiesoverthemoon @petersasteria @currentloser @makeitworse @berfgrimm @sherxoo @aizshallnotbefound @keiraryan

normal taglist: @sherrayyyyy @justsisse @fleabagspurplewife @gemzyy @bettelaboure @breakmeoff

[halfbloodfics]

sub!snape headcanons :)

{part one}

im working on some sub!snape fics rn (ur requests), but in the mean time... have this

im high. so i apologize if thiss is a mess. pls ignore the grammar or whatever

warnings: NSFW, explicit, smutty (MINORS DNI OR I STG)

alright here we go (virgin, inexperienced, sub!snape)

My headcanons about...

Kissing: I honestly, this is kinda sad, but i imagine that sev was always really scared to be kissed because he thought it would be a prank. The first time you kiss him would have to be somewhere private, for this reason and the fact he hates pda, and you'd have to ask him. (i mean obviously, consent is important folks) but i mean, like literally verbally, "Severus, can I kiss you?" And i think at first his face is just blank, like hes trying to figure out if you're serious, amd he gets all flustered, and blushing and like "i, uh, you want.. are u sure? i.." or he is literally speechless and just nods

Kissing Cont. As the kissing gets more intimate i feel like hed be breathing pretty heavily. we know this man is skilled at occulemency and can control his emotions sooo well.. but when it comes to this... i think that man lets it go and is just a shaky, panting, flustered mess

Teasing: Especially in the beginning, he doesn't like to tease you or make moves. One, he's impatient. Two, he doesn't really know what to do and is scared of doing the wrong thing and messing up. But the second you start kissing on his neck... Running your hands down his body...

Preferences: sub!snape i think def prefers gentle!dom. i don't think he'd be totally against pain or stuff like that... but especially at first and for the most part, imo he would prefer to be taken care of. like lets bffr, his entire life he was neglected, touch starved and forced to always be in control. I think he would crave giving in, letting someone else control him

Prefrences Cont. He keeps his clothes on, especially at first. prob the trauma, mixed with insecurity, mixed with a bunch of other fun stuff. But at first, he is nearly fully clothed.

Kinks: Praise. 100%. And if you asked him before you guys had had sex about praise he probably would've scoffed. But the second you're on top of him the first time, moaning his name, saying how good hes making you feel, how well he's going... I think hes like o h. also slight degredation

Kinks cont. I don't think he'd like to be tied up tbh. as pretty as that'd be.. i think he'd need to touch you, feel you, his hands roaming everywhere. being pinned down by your wrists is different tho

Fav positions: when he's sub! he def likes you riding him, pinning his wrists down, taking what you need from him. he gets to see your whole body.. and relax for once and be a lil selfish in his own pleasure

Oral: sub!snape def prefers to give as opposed to recieving, i think this about dom!snape too, but especially about sub!snape. especially when you ride his face, when he gets to look up at you, watch your face contort in pleasure... especially when you grind down on him, but giving sub!snape head is like, a religious experience fam. on jah, on your jaw, dun dun tiss. yea that man is a shaking, whimpering mess, his hands clawing at the sheets, panting, cursing, begging. yep

His first time: lets be honest guys. he aint lasting long. but i think he would be like THIS? is what its like? and then proceed to overexhaust himself by going ten times because how in the world had he never felt this before.

misc.

he never used to touch himself much, insecurity and yk depression, but since you... whenever you're gone... he fucks his pillows yep i said it.

he def likes to edged, and having to beg for it. idk why, but i'd die on this hill.

he blushes so easy. like so easy. the man is so pale, one compliment or small kiss and his face is red

he's relatively quiet. he's verbal, but doesn't moan very loud. more so whispers, begs, quietly.. especially at first when he's more shy. but when he starts to get desperate, maybe after a lil bit of edging... he whimpers when he cums and thats just the truth

but if you compliment those whimpers.. tell him how much it turns you on.. he'll let them out even more

building on that, he wants to please you. be good for you. know that he's doing it right. in a horny way and also in a kinda emotional like.. she really does want me look at how shes reacting kinda way

loves to watch your face when he's making you cum

the first time you pull his hair hes like oh....

needs a lil extra aftercare after being sub! cause its a very vulnerable thing for him.. but his fav is just to lie there, cuddle you, bonus points if you praise him and tell him how proud you are of him

this was shameless.

cheerio xx

[bbyobbyo]

[12:44]

content: hurt/comfort, fluff, established relationship, body insecurity, dk must be protected

wc: 665

note: idk this is what i get for watching dk make one too many tummy jokes on gose (seungkwan ur on thin ice) im sorry everyone good night

You come home to see your boyfriend in front of the mirror.

“Hey babe,” you shout from the door. “How long have you been home? Did you eat yet?”

“I just got back from the gym with Jihoon and Mingyu and they were giving me all these tips but to be honest, I could barely keep up.”

“I'm pretty sure those two are aliens and do nothing but work out and dance” you laugh from the other room as you put down your stuff. “Maybe you should try working out with Vernon next time.”

What you thought was a lighthearted joke turns into something much more serious when you find your words met with a low hum instead of the beautiful chuckle you expected.

You knew this was a point of insecurity for him, you figured as much when he insists on keeping a shirt on at the pool or on the beach. Or when he shys away from you when changing, despite you having seen him naked many many times already.

But what you didn't realize how deep it cut on the days he couldn't make a joke about it and turn himself into the fool as he often does to lift everyone's mood.

You immediately drop everything you're doing and join your boyfriend in front of the mirror, hands wrapping around his middle as you nuzzle into his side.

“Tell me what's wrong, honey.”

There's a shallow sigh before he's able to speak, and you swallow in anticipation as you stare at him through the reflection of both of you.

He briefly flashes you one of his bright smiles in the mirror, the ones he knows you love so much, but this one doesn't quite reach his eyes.

“I know I don't have rock hard abs like Jihoon or Mingyu, but I'm working on it.”

You can hear your heart breaking in your chest as your boyfriend spills out his confession.

He's so strong, you think. Stronger than anyone you know. The type of man who wears his weaknesses proudly and has no problem taking the fall for others, yet stays optimistic in every breath, uplifting those who need it regardless if his own tank is filled.

“What are you even talking about, baby? I love your tummy.”

“I- I don't know… I just thought— because,”

His gaze lowers to his fingers intertwined and fidgeting as he struggles to find the words. He lightly gnaws on his bottom lip as he shakily continues, “You really liked when I was building my arm muscles and you were complimenting me on getting stronger so I just assumed that you wanted me to—”

He's hushed by your gentle palm cupping his jaw, lifting his eyes to meet yours.

“Oh darling,” your eyes swimming with emotion, “no, I never meant it like that,” you breathe out in an almost whisper.

“Yes, I love that you were getting stronger but that doesn't mean I don't think you're absolutely perfect the way you are.”

You see his pupils widen as he stares back at you, expression unreadable as he seemingly tries to process whether or not to believe your words.

“I can't expect you to stay the same, that would be selfish of me. People change all the time, and hopefully it's for the better. But no matter what you look like I will always, always, love you for you Seokmin. Don't ever assume for a second that my love for you depends on whether or not you look like Mingyu, alright?”

You catch a tear that slips down his cheek with the pad of your thumb. Although his sparkling brown eyes threaten to open the floodgates, his widening smile that replaces his earlier tight-lipped expression assures you that his mind is much clearer than before.

“And for what it's worth, I love kissing your tummy and I will likely be devastated even if it's replaced by a six pack.”

“Alright, I'll tell Jihoon no more ab exercises then.”

[xxepherr]

hello! i love your hasan fics! there’s not a lot for him so i appreciate your work.

i don’t know if you’re up for any requests, but i think it would be fun if you wrote a little reunion fic with hasan for when he gets home from his japan trip. maybe include something about his ‘beautification’ bc that was really interesting to witness on stream

.ೃ࿐HOMESICK

summary — in which hasan's homesick after spending time away from you in japan, and you're homesick because his house isn't a home without him in it.

pairings — hasan piker x reader (established relationship)

pronouns — none

word count — 1343

note — thank you sm <33 requests are definitely open :) (sorry it took so long, it's not much but i kinda like it? idk hope i didnt disappoint too hard)

YOU NEVER THOUGHT IT was possible to be homesick within the walls of your own home.

it obviously wasn't the first time that hasan had left you behind to go somewhere, but it was the first time he had left the country without you. last year you went with him to japan, but this year's trip was grander than the last, and you stayed behind so that he could go do all the content goals he had planned. ultimately giving up on convincing you ( and subsequently qt ), he let it go and enjoyed the last few days with you before he had to fly out.

you couldn't say the house was quiet while he was away, only for the first two days because it was just you and kaya, with murat stopping by to pick up some things. you had a feeling that was bullshit, and you were right because you coaxed the truth out of him: hasan had asked him to drop by to make sure you and kaya were comfortable. it made your chest feel warm at how much he cared; you couldn't really fault him for thinking about you.

the house got louder when hasan's parents came to visit, another thing you were pretty sure was scheduled so that you wouldn't be on your own the entire time. even though you spent nights watching movies with them and mornings walking kaya and swift with qt, it still felt like a hole was carved into your heart. perhaps a touch on the overdramatic side, but it definitely did not help when you had hasan's stream open, tiredly watching him have a fantastic time while itching to not pick up your phone to text him.

you already felt bad enough when he stepped away from his friends for one minute maximum to send you a goodnight text, it made you feel worse when austin mentioned you on fear& because apparently he had a gripe that hasan spent more time texting you than he did listening to him talk. it was a joke, you recognised that it was just a subtle dig, but you weirdly still felt bad. this was their trip, you didn't mean to get mentioned as much as you did, but in all fairness hasan and you hadn't been apart for this long before. and you were also pretty sure you hadn't gotten this many texts from him ever.

YOU waited impatiently at the airport, and you had been for the past hour and a half. in excitement, you'd left the house way earlier than necessary. you were also pretty sure that came down to your worry that the traffic would be so bad that he'd be waiting around forever if you weren't there on time.

hasan insisted on catching an uber home but that would mean waiting even longer to see him. maybe you were selfish, but you didn't want to have to share his attention among his brother and parents after not seeing him for so long. you loved his family, but you really just wanted to be wrapped up in the warmth of his presence for just a little bit before he was pulled into at least five different conversations as to how the trip was.

you were one of the few waiting by his gate, and probably was just as excited as the little girls waiting impatiently for their father to get off the plane just beside you. their mother was a lovely woman trying to wrangle the twins into behaving in such a busy place, and you'd helped out briefly earlier when they were almost trampled by a man passing by in a hurry with his suitcase.

the plane hasan was on was in view, and various airport staff had been getting everything ready to allow passengers to disembark. you'd been keeping yourself occupied by trying to spot hasan's luggage as a mound of suitcases were being pulled off the plane and put onto a lengthy trailer.

excitement doubling tenfold when the doors were opened and people started filtering through into the space. the twin girls squealed when they saw their dad, rushing over and jumping on him, their mother not too far behind. you shifted slightly, fingers tangling together as you peered around the happy family, trying to spot your boyfriend through the crowd. you knew it wouldn't be hard, he was pretty easy to spot in crowds, but you were getting antsy with how long it was taking.

you pulled out your phone, ready to check if he had texted you at all without you realising when you spotted him. actually, you weren't too sure if that was really him.

a very clean-looking hasan piker was making his way towards you, and you squinted, excitement dwindling ever so slightly as curiosity gnawed at you. "oh my god," you finally laughed, a short series of giggles that were pleasant on his ears the closer he got.

"why're you laughing?" hasan asked, his voice a honeyed sweetness. "not the greeting i was expecting."

"i'm sorry," you couldn't stop staring at his face, barely noticing his hands coming to rest on either sides of your waist. "you look so much more . . . turkish . . .?" it came out more like a question than a statement, but you couldn't help it.

everything about him seemed so sharp. his beard had been done up nicely, neatly trimmed and lined to accentuate his jaw. his hair was shorter, blended down to the buzzed sides, and you knew it would look even better as it blended further when his hair grew out. and his eyebrows, oh my god they were nicer than your own. they were neatly shaped so perfectly that you couldn't spot a single stray hair or anything out of place. he was all angles and lines and god he liked interestingly good. you liked your boyfriend as his rugged self, but you couldn't say you hated what he looked like right now.

"you didn't watch the stream?" he chuckled, leaning down to kiss your forehead. you all but melted. "it took, like, three hours for all of this to be done."

you sighed, trying to calm your chuckles. "i missed you," you said quietly, "and watching your streams made me miss you more, so . . . i stopped. did you have a good time?"

"of course," hasan let go of you, slipping his hand into yours instead so you could make your way over to collect his bags. "but next time you have to come." you made a subtle noise of protest, knowing the whole reason you didn't go in the first place was to avoid distracting him from his friends. "y'know i always have more fun when you're there, c'mon," he shook his head, squeezing your hand.

"austin kept telling you to stop talking to me," you deadpanned. "if anything, i'm ruining content."

"nah," he waved off, running his fingers through his hair, momentarily forgetting that it wasn't as long as it was a few days ago. the simple action from him and you were immediately back to staring up at his face again, still trying to get over how different of a look this was for him. "stop staring." he didn't have to look at you to know.

you laughed again, "i can't help it! you look like one of those greek statues; all angles 'n' shit."

as much as he loved you, he knew he wasn't going to hear the end of it for at least a few weeks until his hair growing was more noticeably changing him back into how he looked before the beautification stream. he was proven right when he went home and his mum reacted in the same way you did, and how you kept running your fingers against his eyebrows when he was laying his head in your lap later that night.

he absolutely was not going to live this one little bit of content down, but he couldn't say he didn't hate it when your attention was constantly on him because of it.

[blog-name-idk]

The Plot Twist | 05

Written by @blog-name-idk and @eserethriddle

Summary: Once upon a time you would have jumped at the chance to live the idol girlfriend life. The cameras, the action, the whirlwind romance. But what was once a dream has now become your worst nightmare, and you fully intend to fight the universe as it repeatedly conspires to set you up with your seven perfectly good soulmates from Bangtan Sonyeondan.

In which we punt Y/N into all the fanfiction tropes and you do your feral best to subvert the love story.

Because nani the fuck, you are The Plot Twist.

Pairing: OT7 X Fem!Reader

Genre: Soulmate!AU, crack, humor, idol!AU, light angst, slow burn, romantic comedy, just a fun silly old time

Rating: 18+

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Chapter 5: "It's fine! South Korea has universal healthcare coverage!"

Of three things you are absolutely certain. First, soulmates exist. Second, the universe – and you don't know how potent its power may be – runs on some sort of karmic imbalance. And third, you are unconditionally, and irrevocably, fucked.

It is raining.

In a rare, extremely odd fit of forethought, you actually have an umbrella in your bag. Normally, you would scoff at weather predictions and dare the clouds to do their worst. But today, you found yourself grabbing your umbrella before leaving for your commute, and the skies that have darkened into an ominous, storm-like gray after your work shift do not phase you at all.

Today, your undoing lies in a different kind of disaster preparedness.

Hard water pelts down almost as if it is herding you, and you hurry from the assault of the rippling sky to the awning of a closed coffee shop to grab your umbrella. Expletives spew from your lips as you dig through your messy bag. You're so focused that you barely register someone also taking refuge from the sudden storm – a man wearing a mask and a bucket hat, but is shivering through a wet, black long sleeved t-shirt that's sticking to what looks like a very toned body.

Not that that's the type of thing you typically notice or anything.

"Found you!" you screech excitedly as you pull out your umbrella and brandish it at the sky. The man beside you flinches, like you're about to attack him, and you give him a disdainful look.

"S-sorry," he mutters, the brim of his hat still hiding his eyes. "I thought you meant something else."

Something else? Is he on the run from the mob, or fleeing the national military? The incredibility of either prospect nearly makes you snicker, but whatever, you need to get home before the storm gets –

BOOM!

– worse.

The thunderclap makes both of you jump, and you wince at the realization that the rain is coming down even harder. Unforgiving sheets of water pour down, and you can barely see even a few feet past the awning. Maybe you can get an Uber instead…

You pull out your phone to see no bars. No data, no phone signal, nothing. The guy next to you is shivering even more violently now, and you internally sigh. You can't just ignore him, not when helplessness is wafting off him in tenebrous waves.

"Do you have a ride coming?" you ask reluctantly, wishing you had been raised to be more selfish. Your mother does whatever the hell she wants, why hasn't she taught you the same? Though, to be fair, she probably would have been able to get the rain to stop by glaring. Perhaps someday, in your final form, you'll be just as powerful.

The man wilts and shakes his head, and you’re alarmed when you hear a sniffle. Shit, you are not equipped to handle a crying man. You're not even equipped to handle your own emotions.

"I – I left rehearsal because I had a fight with my hyung," the guy begins to share, morosely wiping his face with a wet hand that only leaves more moisture behind. His voice quivers, and despite your misgivings, the piteous sight of him tugs at your heartstrings. "And now I'm lost. I only have my phone, and it’s useless right now."

You start to feel a little sympathy for someone who's clearly been having a bad day. You're about to offer to share your umbrella to the nearest train station when he finally looks straight at you, meeting your eyes for the first time.

The patch of skin behind your ear suddenly tingles and–

Oh.

Oh.

The rain falls, lightning cracks, and your stomach drops in time with the crash of thunder that follows. Yet you can barely hear it over the sudden pounding of your heartbeat.

"Do you… Could you… If it's not too much trouble, could I walk with you to the train station?" Jeon Jungkook pleads, large doe-eyes gazing brilliantly at you from half of an unmistakable face.

This… is why you felt like bringing an umbrella today? Because of the universe and its cosmic–fucking–intervention?

The man across you fidgets, growing self-conscious as he waits for your answer. For a few long seconds, all you can do is stare numbly at him.

Are you going to have to assume every man you run into these days is one of your soulmates? How is this even possible?

You reach your decision in less than a minute.

Dejectedly, you hold out your umbrella wordlessly to Jungkook, and his face lights up. His smile does something unspeakable to your heart that you refuse to acknowledge. His expression scrunches – cutely, to your dismay – in confusion when you just hand him the umbrella. You shove a few crumpled bills from your back pocket into his free hand, careful not to touch his skin, and he looks completely baffled.

"For the train fare," you manage to choke out, already backing away into the unforgiving rain. It's coming down so hard the pelting drops almost hurt, but this is infinitely preferable to whatever the fuck the alternative is.

"What…? No! You don't have to – I just wanted to share – "

"It's fine!" you call over your shoulder, already twenty meters away and sopping wet in the opposite way to what the universe was probably trying to contrive. "Just get home safe! I'm sure your hyung is worried!"

With that you're off, leaving a very confused and equally charmed idol behind. Jungkook stares after the strange, kind girl, wondering why it feels like you're running away.

Pondering, he scratches the tattoo behind his ear.

He’s just about to run after you, but then his phone buzzes in his pocket, and he opens it in surprise to see a wall of text messages.

How odd. The signal bars are full now.

At the influx of messages from his hyungs, his argument with Jimin at the rehearsal studio floods back into his mind, and Jungkook sniffles again and dials the familiar number.

"What do you want?" answers a grumbling Jimin, filling Jungkook's chest with guilt.

"Hyung, I'm so sorry!" Jungkook cries, blubbering in earnest now, the familiar voice opening the floodgates until his tears almost match the tempest around him.

"Don't call me!" his hyung scolds, clearly still angry. And yet, he picked up the call when he could have just ignored him. Jungkook hears Jimin sigh, the sound static and long. "Fine. Where are you?"

"I don't know," Jungkook whimpers as another crack of lightning cleaves the air. Thunder follows soon after, and he hopes that you're okay, wherever you've gone.

“What do you mean you ‘don’t know’?!” Jimin demands, suddenly all love, all worry. "Tell me where you are and I'll come get you."

Ah… warmth. This is what his team has taught him: brotherhood, love, and family. To be angry, to piss each other off, but in the end be willing to drop everything to help one another.

Something the stranger had done despite having no need to.

"I don't know where I am," Jungkook replies, already feeling a little better. "But I'll take a taxi home. S-someone gave me some money."

"Come safely. I'll wait outside for you."

Before Jungkook can protest, Jimin hangs up. The maknae can't help but smile despite how stressful the day has been. Between his team members and the kindness of the girl from earlier, his chest feels warm and fuzzy, driving away the cold and the gloom of the gray skies and icy rain.

He just wishes he had gotten your name.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Fuck.

You wake with a head full of cotton and a nose more clogged than a toilet at an American WacDonald's. Feeling like death, you drag yourself out of bed to the bathroom, force yourself into a scalding hot shower that – for a blessed moment – clears your sinuses. You get ready for work, and by the time you're ready, you at least look put together, though inside you're already wishing you could crawl back under your covers.

Any other time, you might have taken a day off to not inflict your coworkers with your germs, but today is that stupid executive meeting and you can't afford to miss it.

You pop some cold medicine into your mouth, mask up, and get to work early, because despite your utter lack of care when it comes to your personal life, you are a demon in the office.

"[Y/n]!" calls Mijoo, one of your favorite administrative assistants. It's for that reason and that reason alone that you pull your head away from your screen to give her a smile she probably can't see through the cloth of your mask.

"Hey," you greet, clearing your throat and relieved you haven't hit the "uncontrollable cough" stage of your cold yet. "What's going on?"

"Soonyoung is freaking out about something again," she replies quietly, casting her eyes over to the corner office where your Senior Vice-President resides.

You're not sure if he ever actually leaves the building.

You sigh. This is a big project, one that is being presented to the company execs, and you really need everything to go perfectly. It's a good thing you got here early.

"When I finish here, I'll go talk to him," you say reluctantly, making Mijoo shoot you a smile of relief.

After you've confirmed that everything should as expected, you push off your desk, letting your chair roll backwards. Then you slip your feet back into your heels, stand, and give a lazy stretch of your limbs before heading to put out the fire, rolling your shoulders as you do so.

Through the glass surrounding the door, you can see your VP frowning at his computer screen, gray brows knit in some sort of frustration. You knock twice, and he looks up, still frowning. It vanishes as soon as he realizes it's you, and with a grin he beckons you inside.

"[Y/n]! Thank goodness," he said in a relieved voice, already angling his monitor so that you can see. "I can't get VLOOKUP to work!"

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from saying something you shouldn't, instead ambling over to help the dinosaur who is (hopefully) planning on retiring soon. Why is someone so high up even messing with spreadsheets, anyway? You barely have time to do any hands-on work at this point, and all you manage is your own team.

"It's tricky," you agree fondly, humoring him not because you have to, but because he kind of reminds you of your grandpa. "Here, let me help."

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Your next meeting also has an unusually high number of execs, and you frown as you recall the vague wording of the invite. You settle in a chair next to your work friend slash rival Jaesung, who looks just as confused as you feel.

"Any idea what this 'very important meeting' is about?" you whisper in his direction, and he shakes his head.

"No clue, but there are rumors that there's something big coming up," he whispers back. The two of you are unable to speculate any further, however, as your CEO appears. What the hell?

By the time the meeting ends, you are torn between laughing and crying hysterically. The execs have announced the planned launch of a top secret flagship product, one that the company is expecting massive returns on due to a collaboration with – because this is your life now – motherfucking BTS.

And then VP Soonyoung stands, looks at you and Jaesung proudly, and says that as two of his best people, you will be spearheading the marketing and sales efforts. He adds, with an elderly jovial laugh, “Both of you will even get the chance to meet them, so go get your autograph plaques ready!”

As if you needed to be disincentivized!

"You’re so lucky!" wails Mijoo as you sit in your cube, where you have been staring woodenly at your computer screen for over five minutes now. She thinks you're in joyful shock, and maybe, it definitely is shock. The electric chair kind.

It's bad enough that you had to spend an entire wonderful excruciating evening with Hoba – Hoseok – and he is now aware of your existence, even if he hasn't realized you're soulmates. But now this?

You mull over filing for your immediate resignation, which only adds to your headache. Eventually, you conclude that your time and compensation package from Samsong are just too good, too unbeatable, and… you’ve grown as a professional here. People respect you, value you for you, and you absolutely love working with your personally curated team.

The problem is the universe keeps testing your limits. Executive meetings? Easy. Flagship product development? Doable with the right people. But passionate, self-consuming cosmic schemes involving the world’s biggest boy band in the guise of soulmateship?

You’d rather get hit by a car.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

The universe hates me.

That is your last thought as you hear the squeal of tires on pavement and the frantic honks of a car horn before you're suddenly staring up at the sky, pain flaring throughout your entire body.

A man gets out of the black Hyundai Palisade with tinted windows, and you suddenly wish that you had been truly run over with no hope of recovery. Of course it's Kim fucking Namjoon of BTS, and he's looking at you in a mixture of panic and concern that makes your heart flutter despite your best efforts.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" he asks, to which part of your brain thinks, What a fucking idiot of course I'm not. The other half stupidly admires the broad set of his shoulders, the strange mixture of grace and clumsiness as he stumbles over to your battered body.

Wait.

You return to your senses, and begin to push yourself back up to your feet.

"Yep, totally fine!" you insist through gritted teeth, ignoring the way one of your legs is twisted awkwardly, and the flare of agony that permeates your body when you're able to bring yourself upright. "It was my fault anyway!"

It wasn't, but you're not going to stick around to let this play out.

You begin to limp away as fast as your contorted ankle allows, ignoring the flabbergasted expression on Namjoon's handsome face.

"I – can I at least pay for your medical bills?" he asks as he takes a tentative step after you. You hobble faster despite the burning pain in your legs.

"It's fine!" you call behind you, getting a regrettable glimpse of his beautiful, worried eyes. "South Korea has universal healthcare coverage!"

Unfortunately, you can only wobble so fast until the physically fit, able-bodied man catches up to you. By this point, your vision is fuzzing with strange dotted lights and your body doesn't feel quite real anymore. Namjoon's hand touches your shoulder, and you turn around to tell him off. Instead, you feel your legs buckle and strong arms catch you before everything goes black.

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"You keep appearing in unexpected places, and often." Jimin swallows, his heart beginning to race. "Your skin is always covered up. You don't eat or drink anything when I'm around."

He takes a deep breath, knowing you're just a step behind him.

"How old are you?"

You hesitate – just barely – before you reply.

"Twenty-five."

"... How long have you been twenty-five?"

"A few months."

A few months. A few months since he's moved into your apartment complex. A few months since the strange not-quite-ennui and melancholy has begun plaguing him. A few months since you have turned of age to manifest your soulmate connection.

"I know what you are."

He feels your body tense behind him, and a thrill runs down his spine. When you speak, he can feel your breath on his neck.

"Say it."

“Soulma–”

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Kim Namjoon looks anxiously at the nurse checking your vitals as you lay prone on the hospital bed, wishing he could do more to help.

"I think – I think she might have hit her head," he offers, for the tenth time, thinking about the way you had tried to run away on what the nurse is reasonably certain is a badly sprained ankle. The nurse gives him a tight smile, because one does not simply roll their eyes at the leader of Bangtan Sonyeondan, no matter how many times he's said the same thing.

"We'll check for it," the nurse promises, soothing the tall man. For the time being.

Namjoon chews on his lip as he gazes at you, wondering what your story is, what kind of past would drive you to such strange lengths.

For some reason, he itches to hold your hand, but that would be completely inappropriate from a total stranger. Especially when it could cause dating rumors if anyone gets a glimpse or a picture. His manager is already going to kill him for chasing down an injured girl in broad daylight.

His eyes keep getting drawn back to your face, peaceful in sleep and – dare he say it – quite pretty. Very pretty. Beautiful, even. And you had felt so soft and nice in his arms, warm and –

"Sir, please stay seated while I finish here," comes the nurse's tired voice, and Namjoon realizes he's gotten up and has an arm outstretched to stroke your cheek.

"Uh, sorry," he stutters, face burning as he sits back down. What the hell is wrong with him? Why does he feel drawn to this very strange, very lovely girl?

A soft groan tears Namjoon out of his spiraling thoughts, and his gaze shoots to your form as your eyelids flutter open.

"Wha – " you ask blearily, waking up from the weirdest parody dream of the world’s best vampire movie ever. Shifting in your bed, pain contorts your face and you let out a hiss. "Ow!"

Namjoon rushes over, and your mouth drops open when you realize who he is. Before you can react, he's holding your hand in his, and he staggers as something in the universe fundamentally shifts. By your gasp, you're experiencing a similar sensation, and you yank your hand out of his grip before he can get his bearings.

"Your leg seems severely strained," the nurse explains, blissfully unaware of the way the world is tumbling around the both of you. "We'll need to do x-rays to make sure it’s not broken."

"I'll… get a wheelchair…" Namjoon says, in a daze, desperate to be of help even as his mind races to understand what is going on. He stumbles outside of the room, desperately hoping that a moment alone will help him get his thoughts in order and help him find the right questions to ask.

Apparently these are questions he won't receive answers to any time soon, because by the time he's back, the room is empty. The nurse follows after him, and looks around in confusion.

"Where'd she go?" the nurse asks, and Namjoon wishes he knew the answer. Who are you? Why are you so hellbent on getting away from him?

And why does holding your hand feel like home?

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

That was too close. Too fucking close.

You pull yourself onto the bus by the railing, ignoring the driver's confused, concerned expression as he takes in your hospital gown and the way you're wincing in pain. You swipe your card, only vaguely aware that everyone behind you can see your rump through the poorly tied flaps of the gown.

It's fine. Your dignity is unimportant compared to the bulletproof boy scout you just dodged.

You drag yourself to a handicapped seat – if there's ever a time you can confidently sit in one, it's now – and fall into it, finding an angle for your leg that gives some sort of relief.

Despite the pain, it's the warm feeling in your hand you can't stop thinking about.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Kim Namjoon is at a loss.

Despite searching the entire hospital, the mysterious girl was nowhere to be found, vanishing from the premises as if she were never there. Still, out of personal guilt and liability, Namjoon lingered, offering to settle the missing girl’s hospital expenses, but the charge nurse expertly dismissed his generosity once it became apparent that he did not know you at all. He couldn’t even give them your name, or any proof of relation, and the rest of the staff quickly became tight-lipped around him.

Even Kim Namjoon, the illustrious 148 IQ leader of BTS, can’t argue against health privacy laws.

Since leaving his phone number with the charge nurse – his final, desperate effort – Namjoon has been staring at his phone, waiting for any news about you… news that simply never comes.

That same evening, he walks into the band’s shared dormitory with aplomb.

Single-minded, he heads straight for the living room and picks up the remote control off of the coffee table.

The flatscreen TV goes dark, and Kim Taehyung complains, “Hyung, no! What gives!”

Jungkook cries in offense, shooting up from the sofa, “My vampire baseball scene!”

Namjoon deigns them both with a long-suffering look. “We need to talk, so call the team.”

His assertive voice, usually reserved for critical matters and scolding, makes Taehyung and Jungkook abandon their emotional support movie in favor of gathering the rest of the group.

One by one, the boys pile into the living room from separate parts of the apartment at Namjoon’s behest. Most of them are sporting rumpled clothes and bedheads, save for Jimin, who looked ready to leave for his own place.

Namjoon announces, “There’s something I want to discuss. A… possibility.” He clears his throat. “A girl.”

"That's what you interrupted our movie for?" Taehyung asks, indignant. "A crush?"

Hoseok lets out an immediate sigh of relief. “Is that it?” And then he pauses, scratching at his nape, “Well, me too, I guess.”

Jimin’s eyes brighten. “No way, hyungs! Me too!”

When Jin, Jungkook, and Taehyung concede that they've also had a run-in with a very memorable girl recently, a new suspicion blooms in the back of Namjoon's mind.

Could they be talking about the same girl?

Though unlikely, he decides to ask, “Did any of you manage to get her name?”

Jin nods, seriously. “G0d$l@yeR_69.”

Namjoon shoots him another long-suffering look.

Hoseok stays silent, if only because his memories of you are one of the few non-idol centered things he still holds onto. Besides, his girl can’t possibly be their girl, too. The odds of that happening would be astronomical.

It's not so wrong to want to keep one aspect of his life to himself… right?

“Sorry, I… I didn’t get her name,” Jimin lies, for the same reason Hoseok keeps quiet. Besides, even if Jin is interested in you, Jimin's your neighbor! He should get first dibs! He's not going to give up your name so his handsome, charismatic hyung can find you and woo you before Jimin even has a chance to try.

"What's this important meeting about?" asks Min Yoongi, walking into the room with a mug of coffee in hand.

"A girl," Jungkook replies, somewhat dreamily, remembering the guardian angel that saved him that rainy day. Yoongi rolls his eyes and immediately turns around to leave despite Namjoon's protests. He has more important things to do than sit around gossiping, especially since he has a meeting with Samsong tomorrow about their new collaboration.

There's a hubbub behind him, a thump, and a curse from the ungainly leader as Namjoon's prized George Nakashima coffee table claims yet another victim. Yoongi's toe throbs, and he sighs.

"There's a first-aid kit in my room." He calls over his shoulder as he goes. "Knock yourselves out."

Far away, in a clinic near your apartment where your ankle is being put into a brace, you sneeze.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Masterlist | Next

[worldofkuro]

idk if it sounds selfish but i need more comfort in my life rn, so i wanna ask for help.

if it's not really a big deal, i wanna see some comfort between alastor and reader when they were teens. maybe after he already told her that he wants to marry her, and something made her feel insecure and bad about herself. so she called Marie and ask Alastor to come, so she could lie down in his arms and listen him telling her that he loves her anyway.

or any other plots because I'll be okay with everything if it's fluff. thank you.

Of course dearest, anything for you to feel better. For those who will notice it, their last sentence is from the song “ Follow You” by Bring me the Horizon. I love this song and I thought it was pretty fitting. So here ,my dear, this scenario isn’t very long but I hope it will make you feel better. 

Follow You

You were coming back from school, trying to contain your tears. 

You had told Alice about Alastor’s wedding proposal and she was excited for you but some other girls heard you and made fun of you. How could a man see you desirable enough to be his wife? Most of the time, you didn’t care about their vile words, but you didn’t know why, today it was hurtful. Of course, Alice had taken your side immediately swearing at them like a sailor.

You didn’t greet your parents as you went immediately into your bedroom, hiding yourself under the blankets. You couldn’t even look at yourself in the mirror. Were you even worth being Alastor’s wife? He would always say you were “endearingly stupid”, did it mean he saw you as a stupid girl? Was he manipulating you?

Were you worth being special to someone’s heart?

You jerked your head up as you heard a knock on your window. You wiped your eyes and saw Alastor, his fist against the glass, staring at you. You opened the window quickly, scared he would fall.

“ Alastor, what are you doing here?”

“ I heard my mother talking with yours through the telephone, saying you didn’t feel well, so I came to check on you.” he entered your room, looking at you. You saw his eyes stopped at your tearied one. You tried to look away but he gripped your face, making sure he could watch your expression. “ Who?”

“ What..?”

“ Who made you cry?” he said with a gentle smile but his eyes had a dark glint.

“ No one.. It’s just… Am I worth it , Alastor?”

You gasped as Alastor forced you to lay on your bed, pushing something soft in your arms. Looking down on it you almost cried some more as you saw Eamon staring back at you. You squeezed it against your chest as Alastor laid next to you, observing your face.

“ Dearest, you’re just like a jewel. Being desired by people and those who can't have you are jealous. You are like a fresh breeze in summer, so short and yet so welcomed. You are much more than how you perceive yourself.”

“ But.. I feel like I’m going to be a useless wife…”

“ Hah! You, my dear, a useless wife? You could be doing nothing at home, as long as you are waiting for me, I would feel the happiest. But why would you think that? You have always been to my side, always accepted me. Why would I choose someone else to be next to me for my entire life? How could I look at anyone else now that my eyes have seen you?”

“ Alastor.. Do you love me…?”

He looked perplexed but wrapped his arms around your body, staring at your eyes without blinking.

“ I don’t know what love is about. But if loving you is wanting to devour you all, to protect you, you have your attention on me all the time, then I guess.. that I love you. But please, dearest, remember that even though I adore you, more than anything, my love is tainted with darkness. No matter how much I’m obsessed with you, I’ll drag you down to hell with me. I'm telling you, you're all I need, I promise you, you're all I see. I’ll never leave.” he stared at you, waiting for your answer.

“ I’ll follow you.’ you breathed, staring at his chocolate eyes. “So dig two graves because when you die, I swear I'll be leaving by your side. So you can drag me through hell, I’ll follow you.” you smiled sweetly at him as he beamed at your words, his cheeks flushed. He squeezed you against his body, Eamon between the both of you. 

You would always be together, the both of you. Alastor would always be by your side, like a curse, clawing at you to keep you from leaving, even if you would never think such a thing.

Your love was twisted, tainted in dark obsession but it was perfect for the both of you. Maybe people wouldn’t consider it as love, but you knew deep inside, Alastor would always chase after you if you were to run away. If you were to run away because of your feelings, your fears, everything, the only person who would chase you would be Alastor. And you knew he would never stop.

He would follow you.

[yanderes-galore]

Ooh what about romantic (but does not want to admit it) Tomura Shigaraki from MHA with a Hero darling? Concepts maybe? IDK I can't decide, thanks for considering this tho! Though I admit I do think it would end pretty badly… up to you if/how you want to write it tho!

OH THE ANGST. IT'S GOING TO BE HORRIBLE.

Yandere! Tomura Shigaraki with Hero! Darling

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Denial, Possessive behavior, Sadism, Cruel behavior, Violence, Blood, Jealousy, Kidnapping, Isolation, Forced relationship.

I feel it would end pretty badly.

Tomura is known for his hatred towards heroes.

He absolutely hates heroism.

If he was obsessed with a hero, he would plunge himself into denial.

After all, he hates everything you stand for.

He's a man of destruction.

He's not meant to be attracted to some heroic fool.

Tomura would probably have a crisis over liking a hero.

If he wasn't already.

I can also see him blaming you for his own obsession.

Curse you for being so damn captivating.

He's arrogant and selfish, he doesn't think he needs anyone in that way...

Let alone a hero.

Yet here he is, keeping track of your every move, following you.

Tomura would never admit it, but his emotions tread into dangerous territory.

He never thought he was going to be so attracted to a hero.

He hates it as much as he enjoys it.

Tomura probably actively hunts you down.

He claims it's because he's keeping an eye on you to see if you try anything.

He's very antagonistic towards you too.

Mostly because of his unresolved feelings.

He blames you for all of his obsession.

Every little thing you do drives him crazy.

Which ends up with you two fighting often.

You're no doubt a pro hero that often gets involved with him.

He hates that he sees you everywhere... Yet also actively hunts you down.

Tomura is too proud to admit he likes you... so he preaches about hating you.

After all, he understands hate more than love, so he tries to convince himself that he just hates you.

He tries to make his obsession like a rivalry, him being a big bad villain... and you being a hero.

In reality... He just refuses to admit he has any fondness towards you.

Yes, he totally hunts you down because he hates you.

He tells himself he wants to destroy you.

Each time he sees your damn face trying to give hope to the fools in this world, he gets so frustrated.

He tries to hunt you down with said intention.

Although, his obsession can never quite be ignored.

Imagine if after one fight, Tomura had you kidnapped?

He says it's for ransom, info, or anything like that.

In reality it's because his obsession has pushed him to this point and he hates sharing you with anyone else.

Since you're a hero, Tomura vents by trying to break you.

He's used to destruction.

He's never liked heroes... so he plans to tie you up, isolate you, and break you.

He threatens you but doesn't physically harm you surprisingly.

In earlier fights with him you two would fight until your skin's cracking and possibly even bleeding.

Hell, you've seen him be ruthless towards other heroes, including students.

Yet with you, in this dark dimly lit room, Tomura only seems to want to break one thing.

Your mind.

Of course he could just kill you... but his feelings won't allow that.

Instead, he takes twisted enjoyment in the idea of breaking you mentally.

He no doubt sits with you for hours, talking at you as he tries to break you with the isolation and his threats.

Honestly, you're adorable when you cry or lash out at him.

Tomura doesn't just want to break you because he's a man of destruction... but if he can make you succumb to Stockholm Syndrome that's a win for him.

He may not admit it, but he wants you to fall in love with him.

If that means breaking you down into becoming his little pet, he'll take it.

It's weird how he treats you.

One moment he's making you feel alone, useless, and telling you no one's coming to save you for a while.

After that, he love bombs you.

He gives you affection, touches that are oddly gentle compared to his usual behavior.

You don't like it at first.

However, as time passes, it's all you have.

Point is, Tomura would break a hero obsession.

He would quite literally prefer his obsession to have Stockholm Syndrome over confessing his feelings.

Tomura hates heroes, but he doesn't entirely hate you.

He'll break you down, keep you to himself, just so he can have not only the sadistic pleasure of not only bringing down a hero...

But also having you all to himself to keep.

[getouyuri]

Hii 😋

Omg suddenly I'm feeling kinda shy like what am I doing here 🧍‍♀️

But I was thinkingg for a while and I swear I have one song in my mind like 25/8 and that's "Our First Time" By Bruno Mars and I swear it's so 😛😝😻🤩😍🙇‍♀️🐶🛐🛐

So I was wondering about maybe like how jjk characters might react to the first time with reader or sum 😌😇

And if you're not feeling this then maybee confession would be cute 🙈🙊 Idk if it would happen if either reader is tipsy or maybe sober or maybe something else, it's up to you 😛

And if you're not feeling this one either it's okay no worries 😍😇

Sorry if you are struggling with understanding something, English is not my first language 😵‍💫😵‍💫 Thank you so much for reading this you seem like a really cool person, bye 🫶🩷

firstly ur english is perfect ml don’t worry about it and no need to feel shy either!! 😙😙 secondly u got me blushingggg and thirdly oh my goddddd I forgot about that song… just flew back in time

JUST GO WITH IT JUST GO WITH IT JUST GO WITH IT AND I WILL GO REAL SLOW WITH IT SLOW WITH IT ITS OUR FIRST TIME 😫

thank you for the headcanon request 🥳🥳 i got a lil carried away cos i was having fun LMAO

characters: satoru gojo, suguru geto, toji fushiguro, choso kamo, shoko ieiri, yuki tsukumo

content: loss of virginity, gn!reader for the boys, fem!reader and wlw for the girls cos they’re sapphics, oral sex, penetration, fingering, humor

18+, MDNI

satoru gojo:

• “you’re a virgin??” “yeah” “and you want your first time to be with your beautiful amazing devastatingly handsome pookadookasnooks meow meow snugglemuffin???” “yeah 😕” “SAY LESS!”

• way too excited about the whole thing because wow. he’s the first person outside of yourself to, well, touch allll up on yourself

• he can tell you’re embarrassed about the noises so his loudmouth self puts on a show as if they’re starring in a porno. exaggerated wet noises bounce around your ear canals like a ping pong ball as he kisses you everywhere with pronounced ‘mwahs’ and he moans LOUD AS FAWK as if he’s the one getting groped and fondled for the first time

• satoru’s sosososo sweet, asking what you want and how. he also keeps going “oooh hold on this’ll feel really good too, watch this” and generally just makes sure you’re feeling comfortable And having a good time; because intimacy is so much better when you can laugh and have fun with it too

• you end up sinking down onto his cock while he reclines on his back, gripping your hips but letting you steer the wheel for the most part. doesn’t stfu and endlessly praises you as you ride him, and he’s cheeeesing because he’s happy that you’re enjoying your first time

• once you cum he flips you over and takes you to pound town, cheesing even harder because your whimpers are sooo cuteeee when you’re overstimulated. but at some point satoru notices it gets to be too much and he doesn’t want his pretty baby to be in pain, nuh uhhhh

• pulls out to cum all over your tummy then drags a finger through the mess and brings his dripping finger up to your lips. “one gojo special, coming right up. and don’t worry about taste— i’ve been eating lots and lots of pineapple juuust for this ;)”

suguru geto:

• you may as well kiss all of your bodily functions goodbye the second he lays you down on the bed

• like its joever man

• suguru’s gonna make you pass out from the head rush you get as he makes you describe exactly how you feel as he’s touching you, petting over you. he doesn’t let you leave out a single detail. chuckles and teases you when your voice cracks or you look at the ceiling instead of him after spewing the raunchy shit that he wants to hear. edges tf outta you when you Don’t

• “aht aht, use your words, sweetheart. i can’t take care of you properly when you aren’t telling me what you need”

• because don’t you worry! chivalry is not in fact dead; not when there’s a gentleman between your legs. suguru’s far from a selfish lover— this is about you and the trust you’ve placed in him to take care of you, which he already does in every other aspect of your relationship. and he’s more than happy to do the same during their time in bed

• has you cumming on his mouth, then his fingers, then his cock that he sinks into you in missionary so that he can watch how your irises visibly tremble as you look up at him and the way the soft pink of your lips shapes his name

• everything you want you get, and more. he leaves you wanting for nothing. suguru pamperssss you and takes you to the moon

• but oh my fucking god are you alive?? are you even on earth anymore???? you’re twitching and shaking and gasping for what feels like hours

• “i think i saw jesus for half a second,” and he’s chuckling again, entangling your fingers after he’s cleaned you up, hand fed you some chocolate, and tipped your head back so he could dribble water into your mouth for you. he guides your fingers to his hair. “think that might’ve been me, angel. i’m the only long-haired man in the room.”

• you smack his chest

toji fushiguro:

• “oh word?” is all this man says when you announce that you’re ready on a random thursday afternoon: he doesn’t look up from his phone (he was really getting into the house restoration tiktok he was watching) until you confirm it

• you’re promptly thrown over his shoulder and he hauls you to bed

• though he’s a straight shooter and goes for what he wants whenever he wants, toji slows himself down for you because he knows ur internally shitting bricks. you don’t even gotta see his cock to know that he’s PACKING and you’re already praying to your ancestors that you survive. his sharp eyes catch the subtle bob of your throat as you swallow and the spiraling staircase spelled out in your eyes

• “jesus, doll, ‘m not gonna fuckin’ tear your ass up and wreck your shit just yet.” he’ll save getting his dick in your stomach for a rainy day. “but a man’s gotta eat.”

• the second he’s between your soft thighs, your fingers laced through his hair while his mouth drops down to where you’re leaking, toji shows you exactly why he’s the best at what he does. and no he does NAWT mean killing sorcerers

• though this is gn!reader, he’d definitely eat fem!reader from the back

• he’s as gentle as a man like him can be as he goes down on you ‘til you cum, then he whips his cock out to take care of himself when you offer to help him out. and who is he to look a gift horse in the mouth?

• toji guides you, shows you exaaactly how to stroke him right, squeezing on the upstroke, screwing your free palm against the tip. you daringly take half of him into your mouth and he pulls you off to cum on your face cos well. he’s toji

• “we’re doin’ this again the second i get myself back up”

• oh fawk

choso kamo:

• “guess that makes two of us” is what he casually says when you tell him that you’re a virgin

• contrary to popular belief, no, he’s not clueless when it comes to sex. he’s got what he’s seen on TV, what he’s personally looked up, and the memories of his host’s body all on his side

• so in theory both of you know how sex works, what goes where and whatnot . in practice? all of that knowledge seems to fly out the fucking window to join the birds

• choso lit some vanilla-scented candles to set the mood, because this moment is super special for both of them, right? everything needs to be perfect. romantic

• you’re gripping the shit out of a bottle of cherry flavored lube, which you bought because gojo and yuki swore to them both that it’d make things more fun, as if someone’s gonna take that shit from you as you clamber onto his lap. and then they both stare at each other. “lovely, how should we…” “let’s just make out and go from there??”

• you both get into a rhythm, hands skirting beneath clothes as you swap spit

• kissing while you straddle him turns into him lying back, their palms glued together with sweat as their hands entangle on either side of his head. which turns into grinding and whiny moans

• both of you nut in your pants like teenagers

• round two starts with breathy laughter and awed gazes as soiled clothes get tossed to the side so that you can explore each other’s bodies and properly pin down the other’s preferences this time. and the lube finally gets put to use

• choso’s more preoccupied with your needs than his; a puppy born and bred to please, and reaaaally fawking eagerly. pawing at your erogenous zones that he discovers after some trial and error, and you do the same to him. it’s all sooooo sweet, so gentle, even though both of you are fumbling and giggling

• “is this okay? faster, slower? whatever you want.”

• he doesn’t last long once he sinks inside of you, but choso manages to make you cum again before he busts a second time too, so hey, win win

shoko ieiri:

• honestly she’s not really surprised that you’re a virgin. she knows damn well you’re not the type to wander off to some bar and pick some rando up for your first time. and there’s not a large roster of sorcerer women to pick from, either

• luckily she’s your girlfriend. and she has enough experience to know what the hell to do

• which is why she busts out the double-ended dildo and tosses it to the side of the bed. you stare at it with big ass eyes and she just chuckles as she guides you to sit between her legs, your back squishing her boobs

• not only is she gonna show you how good it feels to be touched by someone other than yourself, she’s gonna show you exactly how she touches you

• holds your legs open with her own legs, spreading you niiice and wide so that you can see yourself in the mirror while shoko fingers you and narrates every. single. thing. that she’s doing. mostly to watch how flustered you get

• makes you cum on her fingers multiple times until you’re drooling because you deserve nothing but the best. she’s very happily getting off on your pleasure

• then shoko smiles to herself as you, lashes shading your spacey gaze and muscles still erratically twitching beneath your skin, turn around and eat her out to return the favor. that’s when your body really registers that she absolutely destroyed your kitty and wore down your mind and body. you practically fall asleep with your mouth on her while her hand scratches at your scalp as if you’re a kitten

• “tired already, cutie? guess we’ll save the double-ended dildo for next time.”

• YOU’RE UP

yuki tsukumo:

• they’re making out on a flannel-patterned blanket that they laid out on the grass when yuki goes to worm her long fingers down your pants when you tell her that its your first time

• “you’re telling me that people weren’t lining up around the block to get a piece of this ass and a taste of it too before we started dating?? ohhh bunny… that’s criminal.”

• “good thing yuki thee stallion’s happy to take her cute girl for a ride!”

• because if anything she’s JUICEDDDD that she’s your first. mentally she’s kicking her feet, carving your initials into a tree, rolling down the slight incline of the hill where they’ve been pointing out constellations and shooting the shit on. little do you know that they’re gonna have a spring wedding and todo’s gonna be her best man

• hauls you up her body so that you can sit on her face out in the open. sure they could just scoot back to their hotel room on her harley but mmmm… semi-public sex with no one else around… its her shit

• she’s already plotting ways to tease you when they’re Really in public

• you’re thinking, ‘wow, how can this possibly get better’ while jerkily riding her tongue when she brings her fingers into the mix and you squirt, just like that. yuki must be floating in the heavens up above them because WOW HOLY SHIT this is the best day of her life. what a treat

• she pulls you back down, all smiles and sunshine as she coos praise. but are y’all done? helllll naw. yuki flips you over, shuffles out of her jeans, and introduces you to the art of scissoring while she mauls your tits like a dog with a new chew toy