#there's no “good” or “bad” to him

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Ooooh, I love this!

Originally, I had planned for a bunch of people from other franchises to the part of this but I was too lazy to write it out.

Sephiroth from Ever Crisis was going to be there learning how to interact with other people around his age as they deprogramed him from the brainwashing Shinra did.

Inertia was there because I liked him and wanted to learn more about him. I still need to Google more. I'm sorry

Jynx from the Teen Titans show from when I was a kid. The pink haired girl who could cause unlucky things to happen and fire energy beams (might also be magical???) is there, very doubtful that she could ever be "good" but has been talked into giving it a try

Psaro was there as part of the negotiations he had done with the Justice League. They would protect his younger half-brother Prince Ludo and his brothers mother, Elshael, as the two received psychiatric care at a mental institution in Central City. Psaro would also be given special lessons on how to properly rule Nadiria as king by members of the Justice Leage.

There naturally would be more characters than this, but my point is that each of these people is powerful, traumatized, and have difficulty letting people in. Everyone goes through a minimum of one story arc involving facing thier past traumas, Sephiroth faces of against Shinra as they try to reclaim him, maybe on a political propaganda route, maybe they attack with an army of highly trained enhanced humans and machines and are repelled, maybe they successfully capture Seph and the team recues him to see the full scope of the horrors Sephiroth has endured. Maybe all of the above?

For Psaro, I think dealing with the so called "heros" who followed him to this world only for them to be arrested and put on trial would be both funny and satisfying. I'll explain more in the comments if someone asks

And Jynx being captured by her old crew from the H.I.V.E. Five only for her to convince them to also join before her rescue even arrives

Ludo eventually joins tok when he is deemed mentally fit enough to do so. Does he betray them? Probably. Does him announcing his arrival with poetry like Genesis Rhapsodos trigger a reaction from Sephiroth, make him realize that he's not as emotionally healed from Shinras torment as he had thought he was? Absolutely.

Everyone here is messed up.

I don't think I need to mention Damian and him having to deal with the LOA and their issues from time to time, do I?

Then Danny, safe, sane Danny betrays them.

Danny, who loved to try bizarre and amazing food combos with Thad.

Danny, who liked to draw with Damian and invite him to play fetch with Cujo..

Danny, who stayed and comforted Jynx through her worst breakdowns saying, "I'm a Fenton. We're already unlucky!"

Danny, who channeled Jazz to explain human behavior to Sephiroth to help him fit in with his new friends.

Danny, who was always happy to have pun battles with Psaro.

That Danny was fake. Danny betrayed them.

Idk which is better. Danny freeing his parents and going on the run with them or Waller, killing them and Danny going for revenge.

Danny held up a large sign from the background like a man at an airport as thier leader, Robin, gave his report to this "Justice League". The first sign said, "Help! I'm surrounded by daddy issues!" Earning a laugh from someone off camera. He then pulled the next card out from behind the first one.

"Can you send air fresheners? It smells like teen angst in here"

This one got a cackle from someone on the Justice League side of things. Score. No one here really wants to laugh. They're all edgelords and Danny is suffering. He didn't really want to be here, but things in Amity had ended in a way he never expected.

Both he and his parents had been arrested.

Not by his worlds government, mind you, but by the government of another Earth. This Earth that he was currently on to be more accurate. Who knew that so much of the stuff he and his parents had been doing was super illegal and wouldn't ya know it? He was in the middle of doing something really sketchy looking in his parents lab when the feds busted in.

Thankfully, the Justice League presented him with a deal: they take him out of Juvie and the reformation program he was in, and in return, he joins a team of former teen/child villains and anti-heros.

Figuring he had nothing to lose at this point he agreed.

He was not expecting to be surrounded by angry angsty teens. His fault really. He should have known better. Thankfully it seems like nobody knows about Phantom and he'd like to keep it that way.

Psaro was his calm in the storm. The other boy was proud and almost as arrogant as Robin, but he had been proven to be very kind and reliable. If Danny ever needed advice or if Robin was getting a bit too much, he could just knock of Psaros door.

The last time Robin had a fit and was starting a fight with someone, Mr. Pointy ears stepped up and told Robin that his outburst was undignified, especially for someone of a higher class like Robin seems to be presenting himself as. He also said something about there being a big difference between a king and a tyrant, but Danny had been trying to rush Robin's victim to the medway and didn't hear all of the convo.

Psaro was some kind of half demon prince who was also from another world. He didn't have a superhero name yet, but the program was brand new, and to be fair, Danny didn't officially have one either.

Some lady called Raven was supposed to be coming in to help Psaro and convince him to embrace his human half and help him with magic and...something about a curse? What did Danny get himself into???

[emphistic]

Boyfriend!Sukuna's up to no good, you can just feel it. After being with Sukuna for years since high school, it's safe to say your very reliable, very credible "Boyfriend is Being Bad" senses are tingling. And they're tingling worse than ever.

It's utterly ridiculous. You've been sitting on the couch for hours, and have already completely finished a season of your favorite show. Yuuji's whining about having his brother tuck him into bed, and you have run out of coffee. It's past evening, and Sukuna is literally nowhere to be found.

"When's Brother coming home?" mumbled Yuuji for the umpteenth time. He was curled up on your lap, pressing his chubby cheeks to your sweater, and yawning like he worked a 9-5 and paid the bills.

"In a little bit, Yuu, just be patient and wait, 'mkay?"

"Hmph!" The boy crossed his arms over his chest and gave quite the intimidating pout. "I be patient! And still no 'Kuna! Does he not love us anymore—?"

There was the screeching of tires pulling up to the house, the sound of someone running full speed to the door, and keys jingling with desperation, all before the door was opened, slammed closed, and lo and behold: Sukuna—in all his glory. (He looked like shit.)

"What the hell—" You cleared your throat, cautious of what to say in front of someone as young as Yuuji. "Where have you been?"

Sukuna was panting, drenched in sweat, and his hair was a mess. "I'm . . . I was . . . I was getting a cat for Yuuji and you; y'know, because you two were nagging me about it all week after we watched the Lion King?"

Despite his brother's current disheveled state, Yuuji wasted no time in scurrying off your lap, running as fast as his little legs could carry him, and jumping onto his brother's leg and attaching himself there like a monkey or something. "Yay! Brother! Brother home!"

You eyed Sukuna warily, fully taking in his appearance. "So, where's the cat? And, last time I checked, you don't have to run ten miles in order to purchase one; you look like you just did a whole work out."

"If you count running from the police as a work out, then, yeah. . ."

"The police? Do they run a special kind of pet store or something?"

"Not exactly," Sukuna winced, as the sound of sirens blaring began. "So, just making sure, you love me, right?"

". . ."

"Ah, I may or may not have tried to pick up a tiger from the local zoo, and turns out, that is not very legal."

"You're . . . joking."

"The tiger, uh, jumped out of the window while I was on my way home. . . And I'm pretty sure the police are looking for it and me, but don't worry, I've been in run-ins with the law before. They've got nothing on me, babe—"

"You're trying to tell me that your concern is the police? WHEN THERE'S A TIGER ROAMING THE STREETS? OF OUR NEIGHBORHOOD?"

"Hey, there's a good part to this." Sukuna raised his hands in defense. "I made Christmas come early, y'know. You two have been begging for a pet."

"A PET! NOT A WILD CAT THAT YOU STOLE!"

[jasongracedefenseattorney]

“the breakup was bad writing” WHAT DO YOU MEANNNNNN?!?! the relationship was PEAK 9-1-1 writing yall just don’t like that it wasn’t written with tommy as endgame! they were always going to have troubles at micelli’s!! eddie was always going to haunt their narrative!! they never make it to the movie together!! tommy was always going to have to fight for a “spot” in buck’s life and the moment buck finally lets him in (ie he gets a good parking spot) he’s not willing to put in any work to keep it. he never learned that buck doesn’t like basketball he never indulged buck’s love of deep dives even in the breakup he called buck impulsive but the thing is buck isn’t impulsive by nature! he can be self destructive and throw himself into danger for others but actual decisions in his life are so often made by committee. the only time he acts impulsively is when he’s clinging to dying relationships. and he wouldn’t even call him by his name! the only time he calls him buck is right before he leaves when for ONCE he sees him completely. the bucktommy breakup was some of the best work the writers have done in a while im sorry that yall fell in love with a plot device and got mad that he was used as a device for the plot but the writers led you to the water it’s not their fault when you don’t drink

[barksbog]

enriching my giant anteater by hiding meat in crevices

[liketolaugh-writes]

I've been playing with a no-one-knows AU where Danny has been married to Jason for years but hasn't told him his secret. Jason knows that Danny isn't human, but hasn't pressed because Danny is so terrified when he approaches the topic. The Batfamily do not know.

Presently, the GIW are in Gotham and closing in, and the Box Ghost has come to Danny seeking help.

----

“You’re a ghost,” Jason said gently, pulling one of Danny’s hands away from his face to wrap it in his own. Danny let him. “Aren’t you?”

Danny’s breath hitched again.

Surprisingly, the Box Ghost looked almost as horrified as Danny.

“What? NO! I, the BOX GHOST, would not out Danny Fenton to his human family! For he is as human as I once was!” He flailed his arms in blatant panic. “There is nothing to reveal, for Danny Fenton is most certainly NOT a ghost!”

“What’s wrong with Danny being a ghost?” Box Lunch wanted to know, tilting her head up to peer up at her father in confusion. “Is it a secret?”

“BOX LUNCH!” the Box Ghost wailed, every inch a mortified parent.

“Yes, it was, or your father would not be so blatantly lying about it,” Damian told her, taking pity on the child ghost.

“Oh!” Box Lunch nodded seriously. “Danny isn’t a ghost!”

Danny let out a slightly hysterical laugh, and then started to cry, gasping quietly with tears pouring down his face, hunched down to hide from them. He didn’t pull his hand out of Jason’s.

“It is no longer a secret here, as it has become apparent,” Damian elaborated.

Box Lunch scrunched up her nose. “Oh.”

“Ghosts are not bad,” Cass said softly, “if ghosts are Danny.”

“Danny.” Jason scooted closer and pulled Danny against him, and Danny let him, pressing into him without unwinding at all. “Danny, I already knew. I’ve known for years.” Danny tilted his head up to give him an incredulous look, and Jason grinned at him. “You’re not good at hiding it, stardust. Your freckles glow when you’re excited and your eyes flash green when you’re frustrated. You walk through closed doors when you’re sleepy and things fall through your hands when people startle you. I’ve known you aren’t human since we moved in together.”

“…Oh,” Danny murmured, guilt and relief and wonder swirling together in his still-wet eyes.

“Phantom!” the Box Ghost scolded. Jason took note of the sudden change in address. “You are the worst secret keeper ever!”

“Shut up, Boxy,” Danny snapped. He pulled away from Jason and wiped his eyes, sniffling. Their hands stayed locked together. “We, we need to hide you and bitty-bite b-before we talk about this any more. I wasn’t joking about the Guys in White.”

The Box Ghost flapped his arms dismissively. “They will not find us! They are looking for YOU, and their instruments will not be prepared for such subtle spirits as Box Lunch and I!”

“They are looking for me while I am hiding,” Danny said, soft but barbed. He wiped his face again and turned around to better face the other ghost, glaring sharply. “Something I am well known to be very good at. Far better at than you.”

The Box Ghost went so pale he was almost translucent.

“You don’t look like a ghost at all,” Tim said, studying Danny. “Your skin is pink, you don’t glow… most of the time, no pointed ears or fangs. Your eyes are normal.” His eyes narrowed. “Is this… not your natural appearance?”

Danny flinched. “I… I…” He swallowed, staring at nothing, and then forced his attention back onto the Box Ghost. “Your base signatures are pretty low. If you stop using your powers and suppress your auras as much as you can, you can probably bring them low enough to hide.”

No answers would be forthcoming for now, Jason understood. He signaled sharply to Bruce and Tim, the most likely to try to interrupt. Wait. Time-sensitive, finish operation before proceeding.

Bruce didn’t look pleased, but he nodded sharply. Tim just watched, thoughtful eyes fixed on Danny. Damian was scowling, Dick frowning faintly, but Cass’ curiosity looked borderline idle. Jason watched Danny interact with the other ghost with a healthy blend of interest and concern, and tried not to wonder if Tim was right.

“Box Lunch, do you know how to land?” Danny asked. It seemed like a silly question until Box Lunch wrinkled her nose and cocked her head.

“Land?” she asked, audibly uncertain. For that matter, her father looked vaguely baffled too. “Like… with my feet? On the floor?”

Danny managed a smile and nodded. Box Lunch eyed the floor, then drifted down to hover at floor level. “Like this?”

“Not exactly,” Danny said, sounding more fond than anything. He slid off the bar stool and knelt down in front of Box Lunch. Jason couldn’t look away; he’d been deprived of any open knowledge of Danny’s nonhuman side for so long that his curiosity was damn near insatiable now. And Danny teaching a kid of his species? That was doing things to Jason. Good things. “Close your eyes.” Box Lunch did. “Feel the energy in the air. Do you feel gravity? Do you sense how it pulls things down?” She nodded uncertainly. “Hold onto that feeling. Let it hold onto you. Do you feel it?” Nod. “Good. Now- let go of the sky.”

The instructions didn’t make a lick of sense to Jason, but Box Lunch dropped right out of the air and landed on her feet. Her eyes flew open, and she pinwheeled dramatically until Danny caught her.

“Ahh!” she squealed, looking dismayed. “I’m heavy!”

Danny chuckled. “No, bitty-bite, you’re still light as a feather.” He picked Box Lunch up and held her out in front of him, smiling. She squealed again, kicking her feet, her eyes bright with delight. “Good job. Do you think you can hold that?”

“Um, sure,” she mumbled, not looking at all sure.

The Box Ghost landed on the floor with a grunt - Jason suspected that he’d been listening to Danny’s instructions too. He held out his arms for Box Lunch, and Danny handed her over willingly.

“Now what?” the Box Ghost asked tentatively, staring at the floor like it would eat him. Yeah, Jason could definitely believe that he’d never landed before either.

“Now, you listen to me,” Danny said seriously. He reached out and grabbed Box Ghost’s arm, demanding his attention, and forced eye contact. From the Box Ghost’s wide eyes, this behavior was as new to him as it was to Jason. But then Danny continued, speaking as firmly as if he were willing his words into existence. “You are not a ghost. You are not a ghost.” Understanding flickered across the Box Ghost’s face, and he screwed his eyes shut. His glow started to dim. “You are solid. You are heavy. You are warm. You are made of flesh, blood, and bone. You are not a ghost. You are not a ghost. You are human.”

The Box Ghost’s glow receded and disappeared. Except for his blue skin, he almost looked human now. He opened his eyes uncertainly, and Danny gave him a weary smile and a nod, letting go of his arm and leaning back.

“But what about Box Lunch?” the Box Ghost asked anxiously, looking down at Box Lunch. She’d squeezed her eyes shut to try and follow Danny’s instructions, but didn’t seem to be meeting with the same success.

Danny sighed. “I’m not sure how to explain it to her,” he admitted, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair as he looked at the little girl with worry. She opened her eyes and gave him an anxious look, and Danny gave her a small smile. “It’s not your fault, bitty-bite. It’s just… you’ve always been a ghost, so you don’t have your dad’s memories of what it felt like to be human.”

Box Lunch stomped her feet. “I can pretend!”

“Then pretend,” Danny said seriously. “It doesn’t have to be perfect. Just do your best.”

“Wehh!” Box Lunch flailed her arms, brow furrowed in concentration. “I am human! My body is super solid and I crash into things a lot! And I run around on the ground and eat human food! Fear me!”

It was so cute that Jason muffled a laugh, and he wasn’t the only one. Box Lunch ran a circle around the floor, then crashed into a wall on purpose and bounced off, giggling. Even Bruce’s hard expression softened into a fond look.

“That should keep you off the sensors,” Danny said to the Box Ghost, voice low. Something about his eyes looked exhausted. “Just make sure Box Lunch maintains it. Maybe keep playing human with her.”

The Box Ghost nodded uncertainly. “Thank you, Phantom,” he said quietly. “I know that we can count on you.”

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

I love your work, could you please write a viktor x reader who takes care of him. like makes sure he eats, they make baked goods for him or make him go to bed in time. I think it would be cute

Heyo! Sure I can, even if it’s been a while since I wrote for Viktor (or anything) lmao

Caretaker!Reader

Viktor takes well enough care of himself, to his own standards

So we all know he can use a little more help and a little helping hand

I think Viktor is pretty independent so it takes a lot out of him to even be able to do this kind of intimate thing with you

If he does, it takes a lot of vulnerability as you would see him at his lowest

There have been times where he probably refused and would try and get out of any situation where you found out he needed help and to be taken care of

He doesn’t want to bother you or anything when he deems it able to be done by himself

It takes a while for him to be comfortable enough with you and your relationship to let himself be vulnerable in that way

As he has never done this kind of thing with anyone else before

But once it happens, trust me, you’re golden

I think he does like sweets and baked goods, so to have you bring him any on a whim and not because you have to, but because you care warms his heart absolutely

He often forgets to take care of himself and his basic needs, like eating and stuff like that for his experiments and research

So he relies on you for that a little bit once he knows you will always be there for him

He loves when you cook or bake for him and knowing it’s so he knows he’s taken care of makes each bite better than the last

At first when you attempted to get him on some sort of decent sleep schedule, he resisted

He went to bed whenever, or whenever his research was done or he passed out and often it was in the lab or at his desk or in the middle of his studying at the table

SOO you would often have to bring him to bed yourself

Once you wore him down enough, he acted like you won

You thought you did until you found out he was just waiting till you fell asleep and slipped out off bed, and slipped back in just before you woke up and pretended to wake up beside you

You had to scold him probably, or it was some sort of argument

He realized you just wanted him to be healthy, and for him to be well rested

Reluctantly, he began going to sleep with you and waking up beside you in the mornings

He found he actually did like this habit because sleeping beside you was surprisingly comforting

He loved hearing your breathing pattern as you fell asleep, and it helped him fall asleep to hear and feel your heart beating as you both snuggled to sleep

And he loved watching you wake up slowly in the mornings

It was all worth it

One thing he was very stubborn about you not doing was taking care of his leg I think

Probably because he feels as his sort of disability is a bother enough, he doesn’t want you to be burdened with it

He probably thinks that if you see that part of him, you’ll think he’s not worth it and leave

And that’s not the case

He only finds out on a particularly harsh day when it hurt so bad, and it was so sore all he could do was want to fall asleep and alleviate the pain by any means

You maybe kissed his leg, maybe rubbed out the pain, maybe helped him in any way

But as you did it, he loved the feeling and could only watch you do so and the warm feeling in his chest never left

So, on the hard days, he would drop subtle hints that he wanted to be taken care of

Like subtly saying “oh, it just hurts, I have no clue how to fix it…” and wait for you to offer to rub it

I feel he likes being babied a little bit, but not to much

He doesn’t like being treated as glass or like he is incompetent

But he does love being taken care of by you

Be it food, tending to him or showering or making sure he is fed and clean

He loves showering with you

He loves having you wash his hair and the feelings of your hand in it or feeling you lather the soap on him while he just gets to relax and close his eyes and know your there

And that he’s able to soak in all the love

Obviously he returns it all in his own way but

It’s just all the love you pour in

[lizardho]

I was like 11-12 years old when I figured out at a boring-ass church activity that you could put rocks into little plastic spoons and then pelt people who annoyed me with them. I did this for the rest of the activity, and at Sunday dinner the next night was bragging about my victory (cornering the mean kid who picked on my youngest brother and pelting him with rocks). One of my cousins was like “no way, that sounds SO fun! Let’s do that RIGHT NOW!” So we grabbed spoons and went and got pebbles from the back yard and launched them at each other.

The problem was my grandma sold her soul for the world’s most resilient plastic spoons so we could launch those fuckers HARD. I gave out welts like candy on Halloween, and I got them back in kind.

So we resorted to taking cover and giggling until we got whacked, then yelping, then returning fire.

My cousin hid in my grandpa’s little fishing boat. It was a good boat, but simple and honestly underused. We didn’t know the little windows on it, meant to keep the wind out of my grandpa’s face while he drove, were cracking. However, they were definitely cracking. Eventually it became obvious and we realized we had been being dumb.

This was NOT the first time in my life I’d been dumb roughhousing and broken something, and I had developed a reputation in my family as being “suicidally honest” so I was the one to deliver the bad news. My grandpa let out a pretty good chuckle and said it was OK, tousled my hair, and asked my grandma to bring me cake. I am not kidding. I learned later he hated his boat and only bought it for his kids’ sakes, since he thought everyone needed to know how to fish. At the time though I was just bewildered and pleased at my good fortune. FINALLY, at long last, being honest and telling the truth about breaking something expensive was getting me cake. I knew if I kept trying it would eventually serve me, and now so had CAKE. I was pleased as could be.

My dad, on the other hand, was livid. He LOVED that boat. He spent several weeks each summer recovering from breaking ribs in that boat every year for about 7 years prior to this incident. He had great memories and memories that boat. So he told my Grandma NO cake for me AND that I’d be coming by this weekend to fix stuff around the house and pay for the broken window with my babysitting/lawn mowing money.

Obviously I was devastated, but that felt more in-line with the way things normally went when I broke something expensive so I just figured it was OK. My grandpa gave my grandma a look and sadly said “Ok, have her here on Saturday to help me with some yard work.”

That Saturday my dad woke me up at 6:00 sharp and drove me, sleepy and bewildered, to my grandpa’s house. He was mumbling under his breath the whole time but he thought he was teaching me consequences for my actions so he was ultimately OK with it.

We get to my grandpa’s house at 6:15. My grandpa is outside with a ladder hanging Christmas lights. The lawn is freshly mowed, the trees and garden are weeded and well-tended to, the carnations in the front yard look immaculate, and my grandpa has this giddy mischievous look on his face. He tells me he was so excited that I was coming over that he couldn’t sleep, so he did all the yard work himself. He asked me to help him put up Christmas lights and decorate the Christmas tree, which I did, then said that because I was such a good helper I could have some pancakes for breakfast. I was sent home with the slice of cake I had been denied the week before, wrapped to keep it as fresh as possible.

The whole way home my dad looked a little miffed, but told me that he was glad I had been honest and was proud of me for helping grandpa. I know he wanted me to Learn a Lesson™️the cowboy way, like he had as a kid, but didn’t have much room to complain since I’d still been Put To Work.

I think that was a lesson for both of us, although I’m not totally sure what it was supposed to show me. I think it was my grandpa’s way of showing my dad that discipline without tenderness doesn’t count as much. He died last year and I miss him terribly, as does my dad. I hope that my story of victory, drama, punishment, and ultimately a secret second victory is meaningful to someone else out there, but if not it still means a lot to me ❤️

[hoffmansgirl]

HELP I AM CRYING HE IS SO SWEET.

just spent 5 minutes smiling at my phone.

and he looks so fucking good i'm sweating

and he admitted we're dating 🫣🫣

[beloveds-embrace]

noona. noon. any angsty thoughts to share for the duke au? 👁️ (i’m craving angst sorry)

Original post

I DO!! Angst version of the au would be if you weren’t welcomed at all. Sure, no one is being flat out rude to you, no one is actively sabotaging you and John doesn’t hit or force you into anything.

But it’s lonely.

The maids barely touch you, as if disgusted they have to help and tend to the woman their Duke needed to and not wanted to marry, and the butlers are the same. Especially the head butler Garrick. You still don’t know his first name and he doesn’t seem inclined to tell you.

During the dinner… nights with John, you’ve started noticing that your food isn’t quite as well done as his? Less decorated, occasionally burnt or not cooked well, but you don’t want to cause any trouble so you remain silent and John never asks why you seem to eat so little.

You do also meet Duke Riley, the man that John is said to have an incredibly close friendship with, something born during his time servicing the kingdom. You’ve heard so much about him, from bad to good, and you wonder how he actually is.

In the end, you wish you hadn’t met him, too. The humiliation of being flat-out ignored in your own home while he speaks amicably with John…

So yes. Life as Duchess Price isn’t a happy one, but you are just glad you aren’t physically hurting.

But you do find solace in the only kindness your parents had bothered to show you before they gave you away; your personal knight, König. He is the only one to not treat you as such. He is the only one you can confide in, feel just a little bit of happiness and friendship with even if you haven’t even seen his face yet.

“I’m so tired,” you whisper to him one night, under the blanket of the night sky. You’d thrown a simple shawl over your shoulders, and hadn’t questioned it when he fell in steps behind you, always a protective shadow. Today had been hard. You had also decided to no longer dine with John, not too excited about the lackluster food and the stilted conversations. Cold maids, lonely night… you ached for something more.

You take in a shuddering breath, wrapping the shawl tighter around yourself. Konig stands right beside the bench you are sitting on, a familiar and comforting sight and presence. But tonight, it’s not enough. “I’m so tired, König.” You repeat, your voice cracking.

König simply stares at you for a while; you are used to it, used to everything about him. The mask, the accent, the unyielding body that is always keeping you safe. The quiet congestions you have had, during the days you lock yourself away in your office to ignore the loneliness and sadness plaguing you.

You aren’t used to seeing König bend down in front of you, holding his hands out until you place them in his. Familiar pale eyes peer up at you. Proper etiquette doesn’t matter to you in this moment; who will chastise you for the lack of it when this entire duchy holds only the most basic form of respect for you?

Even if they did, you would not let go of König, your confidant. Your knight.

“…What do you need, mylady?”

After a silent moment, you take in a deep breath and look back at him. “…I want… someone who loves me enough to be kind towards me. I want someone who loves me.”

König nods his head. With bated breath, you watch silently as he brings your hands forward, under his mask, to kiss each knuckle on your hands.

“I am your knight, mylady. I am your sword, and your shield. I, too, can be your lover if that is what you want, mylady. Whatever you desire, it is my duty to provide.” König breathes out against your skin, eyes not once flicking away, words not once breaking. He is fully devoted in his decision. “Will you allow me, mylady? The decision is your, always has been. I cannot take you away from this horrible place-“ not yet. “-but I can give you my love and devotion, just as I’ve always done. Will you allow me, mylady?”

And after everything you’ve been through, all the pain and loneliness and exclusion- you can’t say no.

“…Yes, König.”

(By the time John begins to realize that he may have misjudged you, once you find out the truth, it is already far too late for mending any bridges. There is no particular feeling when you look at him, or any of his men. You only ask that no one bothers your time alone with your shadow, your knight. It’s far too late for anything.)

[cyjhhyj]

i am blessed oh my lord

SUNGHOON No Doubt, 2024

[sematarygirls]

                                                  part two here .ᐟ

⊹ᡣ𐭩₊⋆ ─── rafe x reader / angst, injury, blood, confusion

You reached out desperately, grabbing for something, anything as you struggled to open your eyes, a sliver of light peeking out from a small gap where your eyelids hadn't quite yet touched your waterline. Your fingers wrapped around an arm, nails digging into soft, warm flesh, probably hard enough to draw blood, but you couldn't really tell, nor did you care enough to worry about it.

You felt like you were underwater, your ears ringing violently and drowning out the muffled sounds of someone calling your name. The only warmth you could feel was bleeding through a gaping wound in your abdomen, making your clothes cling to your skin with a sticky rush of crimson. You vaguely registered the smell of pennies in the air.

"Hey, hey," a voice called frantically, cutting through the fog that had descended over your mind, reality and imagination blurring into one big jumble of pictures. Your head lolled to the side as a palm lightly tapped your cheek. It was warm, so warm. "Look at me, baby, please look at me!"

Were you dead? In a coma? Why couldn't you move?

You knew that voice, but you didn't know how. Come on, open your eyes! You willed yourself. You had to know who was calling you. You had to see the face of the man that was keeping you from slipping into a blissful sleep. Maybe you had to even slap this disembodied voice for so rudely interrupting the dream you were having about finding gold with your best friends.

"That's it, baby. There you go," the voice coaxed you, a mix of relief and panic lacing their tone as your eyes started to flutter open.

You winced at the light. You were looking directly up at the sky, a halo of sun surrounding the man hovering above you. Was he... an angel?

He leaned in closer, his head blocking out the brightness and allowing you to make out his features. A sharp jawline, piercing blue eyes, a mess of brown hair falling down around his face. He wasn't an angel. You knew him. He was in your dream, the treasure hunting dream.

Your brows furrowed as you stared up at him, trying to piece together what was going on. That's when a jolt of pain hit you, making you cry out. The man was pressing down on the spot that was leaking warmth from your body, and it really fucking hurt.

Hurt. It hurt. Pain. Warmth. Cold. Sensation. Feeling.

This wasn't a dream, was it? But if this wasn't a dream, then everything you thought was a dream wasn't a dream but real life.

Shot. You remembered being shot in this supposed not-dream. Who shot you?

"You're okay, okay? You're okay." His eyes were wide and glistening with tears, you noted as you slowly started to gain awareness. Focus. You had to focus. You couldn't go out again, that much you knew. Your head was whirling, and you couldn't pinpoint why sleep was bad, but it was. It was very bad.

His hand was shaking as he pressed down on your wound, his other hand reaching out to cup your face. This man had a name. A name that you knew, didn't you? Yes, yes, you definitely knew it, but what was it? Who was he? Was he the one that shot you?

"Stay with me, baby, please, stay with me. Oh god, you're so pale. Say something, baby. Anything, please, just- just say something for me." He was rambling, clearly panicking. If he was the one that shot you, he needed a lesson in homicide because he was not doing a good job.

Baby? He kept calling you baby. Was that... your name? No, that didn't sound right. God, what was going on?

Your lips parted, a choked gasp falling from them as you tried to say something, your brain seeming to short circuit on the spot. "Not a dream?" You managed to ask, wincing at the pain. At least you were feeling pain. You were like 99% sure pain was good, but you weren't a doctor... well, you didn't think you were a doctor anyway.

"No, baby, it's not a dream," he said immediately, his fingers curling against your face. He leaned in close, pressing your foreheads together. "Rafe, okay? I'm Rafe. Remember me? Remember my name?"

"Rafe," you echoed, brows pinched in confusion. That was a weird name, but you knew it. You knew a Rafe. This was Rafe? You guessed he looked Rafe enough to be named Rafe.

"God, where is the ambulance?" A female voice exclaimed loudly, her panic was much louder, less subtle than the calm freaking out that Rafe was practicing.

Why was everyone freaking out again? Shot. Shot. You'd been shot, right. Remember that. Remember you'd been shot. But, who the fuck shot you!

You realized that there were voices, multiple voices all in varying degrees of panic, all yelling and clearly very distressed. Were they all worried about you? You didn't know. You couldn't pinpoint what they were saying. It was hard for you to focus on so many things at once right now. You had to pick one thing to keep your mind focused.

The dream. The dream that wasn't a dream? The dream that was real and happening right now? Your treasure hunting friends. They were called something starting with a p. Parrots? That seemed piratey enough to be right, you guessed.

"I'm so tired," the words slipped from your mouth without thinking. You almost didn't register that it was your own voice. Tired, yes. Yes, you were very tired. You were sleeping before this, right? So, maybe sleeping would fix it. That sounded scientific, sort of.

"No, no sleeping, baby. Stay awake, okay?" Rafe was shaking you now, his voice hard, demanding. He was so close, his face right above yours. His hands on you, firm, strong. He was handsome, very handsome. "Look at me."

You looked up at him weakly, your eyes scanning his striking features. You'd touched them before, traced them, mapped his face and committed it to memory, body and mind. You remembered him better now, the fog lifting slightly. He called you baby. That's what boyfriends called their girlfriends. He was your boyfriend?

You had a boyfriend? Damn, go dream, (that's not a dream?) you!

"Good, good, look at me," Rafe encouraged, his eyes never leaving yours, a small smile on his face despite the fear inside him. "You're doing so well, baby. Stay with me, just a little longer. The ambulance is almost here." He was speaking slowly, carefully.

"Attempted murder is not sexy, dream Rafe," you murmured. You decided in that moment to keep calling the situation a dream because you still weren't entirely convinced that it wasn't. Treasure? Getting shot? An unbelievably sexy boyfriend? It all seemed very dreamlike. Besides, the alternative was a mouthful, and you were pretty sure you were gonna pass out soon, so no more words for you.

"What?" Rafe leaned in closer, tilting his head slightly, a crease forming between his brows. "Baby, what did you just say?" He asked softly, his eyes never leaving yours, but your attention had been pulled from him by the sound of sirens blaring in the distance.

You were so tired, and as entertaining as it was to stare at the greek god in front of you—possibly an angel, possibly the man who shot you, the verdict was still out—was, you didn't know how much longer you could keep your eyes open, even as the sirens approached and seemed to infiltrate your brain and make your head shake.

"No, no, no, no, no, look at me, baby, look at me," Rafe was back to shaking you, his face a mask of panic. "Why the fuck aren't they here yet!" He yelled at the parrot people around you, seething with rage as if it was their fault that you had been shot, and the ambulance was taking its sweet time getting to you.

"Shh, it's okayyyy," you reassured him, your words slurring and your hand finally falling away from his arm as your strength fled you. "It's just a dream." You would fall asleep, and then, wake up and everything would be okay.

"No, no, this is not okay, baby. This is very fucking far from okay." Rafe's voice was thick with emotion, his eyes wide and desperate. He was losing you, he could feel it. "Please, please, stay with me. Don't you dare fucking leave me."

"I can't feel anything," you said quietly. This was a dream, right? You were so confused, so tired, so... sad? Were you going to die? You can't die in dreams. You'll just wake up. You will wake up, right?

"You can't leave me," Rafe's voice broke, tears welling up in his eyes. "You're not allowed to leave me. I love you. You hear me? I love you, and you can't just... you can't..." He trailed off, his face a picture of devastation. He had lost a lot in his life—his mother, his father's love, his sister's trust. He turned to drugs and alcohol to cope, which often only sent him farther off the deep end. He was getting clean. He was trying to be better, but he knew he couldn't survive losing you.

For the first time since you could remember (which probably wasn't a feat because time was all jumbled up, and you could barely remember five minutes ago) you were scared. You didn't think this was a dream anymore, which meant that it was real. It really was the dream that wasn't really a dream, and that meant if you died, you were really dead—like, forever dead.

"That's right, baby, stay with me. Look at me. You're not dreaming. This is real. You're really hurt, and I need you to stay with me, okay? Just a little longer. You're so strong, the strongest person I know. You can do this," he urged you, and even though your brain fog made it feel like you'd just met him today, you felt the desire to make him proud, to live to see him again. "Look, the paramedics are here, okay? They're right here. You're gonna be fine. You're not gonna die. You can't. I won't let you."

Die. Death. Not dream death. Real death. Real. Real. Not a dream. You've been shot. Someone shot you. Rafe is here. The parrots—no, no, that's not right—the pogues, the pogues are here. The paramedics are here. But, you're not. You're not gonna die. You're not gonna die a dream death, and you're not gonna die a real death; you're going to live. You have to. You have to live.

There's a reason. You can't remember it, but there's a reason that you have to pull through this.

"I-I love you. I think," you said shakily. It felt right, to say that you loved him. You were pretty sure you did, but then again, you were pretty sure all this was a dream not too long ago. Your thoughts were kind of everywhere and nowhere all at once, but something about him felt right.

"You do love me. And I love you. And that's why you're gonna live. You hear me? You're gonna live because you love me, and I love you. You're my girl, alright? So, you're gonna fight. You're gonna fight for me," he coached you, hyping you up like you were about to go head to head with death in the ring. You think you would've laughed if not for the situation at hand.

He moved to the side of you, holding your hand as the paramedics rushed over, stabilizing you and moving you onto the stretcher. They were spouting out numbers and technical terms that weren't helping your spinning brain. It was like the world was trying to confuse you at this point!

"Stay with me, stay with me, stay with me," Rafe chanted, squeezing your hand as they rushed you to the ambulance. He climbed in with you, not letting go of your hand as they sped off. "You're not gonna die, baby. You're not gonna leave me."

"Shot," you breathed out, trying to get some clarity. "I was shot." One questioning had been bouncing around your brain this entire time: who had shot you? You couldn't remember exactly, but you knew who shot you. You knew whoever it was somehow, but everything was a blur.

"Yes, but it's gonna be okay. You're gonna be fine. It's just one gunshot wound. You're not hit anywhere vital," he lied. You were hit in the abdomen. It was a miracle you were still conscious at all, let alone talking.

"No, no, you're not listening," you urged him, your words slurring together as your eyelids fluttered, struggling to keep them open. "I know who shot me. I-I know who..."

"Shh, don't try to talk. Save your strength. We'll figure it out later," he stopped you, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—fear, anger, desperation. He knew something he wasn't telling you.

"Not you, no, no, not you," you mumbled to yourself. It wasn't him. You were certain about that. "But..." Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. Think. Think. Who shot you? You knew them. You knew their name. You knew their face. God, it was right there.

A man, it was a man. You knew it was a man, but what man? You couldn't die without knowing. You had to think.

"Listen to me, look at me," he said firmly, his hands gently squeezing your cheeks. "No more talking about who shot you, alright? Just focus on staying awake, stay with me. I'm begging you, just stay awake." He was so frantic. So desperate. Why? Even the paramedics, who were focused on saving your life, could tell that something was off with him.

The ambulance suddenly halted, the paramedics rushing to move you, but you couldn't keep your eyes open anymore. The last thing you saw was the guilt in Rafe's eyes and a brief flash of the man who shot you before everything went black.

tags .ᐟ   @starkeysprincess / @cometmultiverse / @iheartjjmaybnk / @all4l0vee / @kissesfrmriri / @xoxohoneymoongirl / @bradshawed / @fallbhind / @rafeslittleangel / @bakugouswaif

[hoshifighting]

Hii! What do you think are things reader does to them during sex that turn them on even more? Like biting, choking, hand holding, rough kissing, words, etc.

Wishing you health, love your work 🧡

seungcheol: running your nails up his chest, digging in just a little as you look up at him with a “innocent” expression.

jeonghan: slow, steady grinding, moving against him while keeping total eye contact. he starts breathing heavy, biting back a groan, and giving you that half-lidded, needy look.

joshua: whispering dirty stuff right in his ear while you keep touching him slow and soft. joshua’s big on sweet words, so the second you start describing exactly what you want, or murmuring his name, he’s already at his limit.

junhui: rolling your hips in little circles right over his lap, especially when he can feel every bit of you through your clothes. nothing gets him there faster than when you’re just barely moving.

hoshi: leaving kisses down his neck, nibbling a little as you go, and then dragging your hands down his torso. he’s a sucker for a good tease, in seconds, he's whimpering as he grips the sheets.

wonwoo: leaning down to kiss him—to tease, while you are lightly touching him anywhere else. you give him everything in that kiss, running your fingers over his chest, but pulling away before he gets more.

woozi: calling him “sir” or anything close, especially if you look up at him with big, trustful eyes while doing it.

minghao: straddling him with that slow grind, leaning in close to whisper EXACTLY how bad you want him, no shame in the wordsw.

mingyu: softly tracing your fingers down his stomach, and roughly squeezing the cock, all while giving him a smile. ALSO choking, (lets pretend we r surprised), he needs to invoke gods to not nut on spot.

seokmin: biting down lightly on his collarbone/neck, pulling him close as you do it. biting in general. bit his thighs, a light one on his cock length.

seungkwan: telling him how good he feels or praising him with a cooing voice, likes validation, even though he's face red, and all shy.

vernon: slipping your hands up under his shirt or inside his pants/underwear, especially if you look up with those NYAAAASTY eyes. mainly when you're making out. he needs to remind you that yall are in public sometimes.

chan: letting out little, breathy moans right by his ear as you slowly roll your hips. i think that everything that triggers his earing senses, turns him on. a moan, the wet sound, the clap-clap of your bodies finding each other...

[eph3merall]

dealer!chris n innocent!bff!reader who eventually have sex ...

☆ . . . chris is so so sweet <3 gently coaxes you into believing that it's okay. that it wont ruin your guys' friendship at all, even though he knows once he hits he'll want to come right back. he'll be damned if he lets his best friend go fuck some other guy.

☆ . . . chris ends up taking your virginity when hes high. you were slightly tipsy from a few drinks, crawling all over his lap and giggling like some puppy. he couldn't exactly help the hard-on he got, y'know? hes a man. you couldnt blame him.

☆ . . . the two of you were just talking, truthfully. after chris had finally managed to get you to loosen up a little you were so smiley and squirmy, accidentally rubbing against his cock without even realizing. tipsy giggles left your lips every second he said something, his mind feeling all fuzzy and not quite there.

☆ . . . the topic of sex came up. chris isnt sure how, or why. "you've never been fucked?" "no..? s'that a problem?." "no, no.. jus', you're missin' out." chris is chuckling and staring at you like he wants to devour you, and you completely miss it. "m'parents always told me to wait until marriage" and he nearly starts cooing at you with how adorable you sound, tugging you closer as his hands cup your cheeks.

☆ . . . fast forward and he's lazily grinding up against you with his hands planted firmly on your hips to help you roll them against his clothed dick. "ohh, i know.. feels good? huh?" the prettiest little whines are sounding from your lips that have been bitten raw, eyes glancing down to where you repeatedly hump against your best friend. "chris..." his name sounds so good in that whiny tone, said in a low mewl as you grasp at his shoulders.

☆ . . . you dont know fully why you feel like this, all hot and eager for chris to continue helping you rut against him. then again, it isn't all sunshines and rainbows for him either. chris is fighting back the urge to bust in his pants, holding you close and letting your body move slowly on its own.

☆ . . . soon enough, he's breathing heavy as his cock strains against his jeans. staring at your nervous face as you tug your panties down and he has to stop himself from grabbing you and sitting you down on his dick until his tip hits your cervix. he knows it'll hurt. and chris just happens to be so kind to his best friend, he's letting you sit down in his lap with both of your legs thrown across his.

☆ . . . your head leans back, his chin resting on top of your head as he sinks his middle finger into your cunt. "fuck, oh.. look at you. s'cute, baby" "chris.." you just sound so pathetic to him, as he hushed you gently. his other hand is wrapped around your stomach, holding you close and keeping your thrashing to a minimum.

☆ . . . your gasp turns into a moan when chris eases another finger in, the squelching sound of your own cunt echoing in your ears—making heat spread up your neck to your face. it just feels so... weird. your hips twitched gently and yoh didn't miss the chuckle that sounded from your best friends mouth, his free hand sliding up gently to squeeze at your tits.

☆ . . . when you start shifting around more and your hand grabs at chris' wrist to try and slow the sensations down, he knows you're close. a soft hush comes from him as he continues with his ministrations, ignoring the way you whine and cry about how you feel weird. "jus' let it happen. s'not a bad thing, baby.. c'mon, cum for me. theere you go" the wave of pleasure that washes over you is almost heavenly, your body tensing then going slack a few seconds after, lips parted in heavy gasps of air.

☆ . . . you think you would be done honestly, until chris is tapping the side of your hip with two of his fingers. "up, c'mon. gotta help me now" and when you shakily lift yourself up from his lap, you hear the sound of a belt buckle and fabric being slid off skin. chris' hands are looping around your stomach gently to pull you back—ordering you gently to close your eyes. "trust me, i got you. you trust me, right?"

☆ . . . of course you trust chris.. which is why your eyes fall shut—letting the brunette pull you back and sink you down slowly onto his dick. except your eyes fly open the second his tip is nudging into your entrance, a shaky gasp falling from you as your hands grip at his wrists. "chris.. that—that hurts, y'know." except he ignores you, clicking his tongue in his mouth and slowly sinking you down further. maybe he should've stretched you out a little more, but god, he was so hard to the point it hurt.

☆ . . . once chris is fully sheathed inside you, he lets you adjust for as long as you need. he knows he's big, and he knows you've never had sex. you were gulping in big gasps of air like you were dying, even though it was fine... chris' hands rub comfortingly up and down your sides, rolling his eyes at how dramatic you were. "s'kay kid.. stop doin' that," "no, i feel full..."

☆ . . . when chris was finally able to move without you throwing a fit over how much it hurt or something, he's thrusting up gently and cursing under his breath. you've turned around just so you could hide your head in his shoulder if needed, and you do—burying your head into the crook of his neck and letting his hair tickle your skin.

☆ . . . chris isn't sure how long it's been but when you squeeze around him he knows you're cumming without you having to say it, and he almost busts his own load right then and there. biting down on his lower lip, he urges you off him when he's sure your orgasm had washed over you—shoving your shoulders down to get you on your knees between his legs.

☆ . . . chris knows you aren't on birth control or anything, so he opts for a quick lesson teaching you how to bob your head up and down his length until he cums over your pretty lil' face. surprisingly, for someone who's never sucked dick before, you were damn good at it. fitting whatever you could in your mouth and then wrapping your hands around whatever else was left, just like chris had told you.

☆ . . . he isn't the best at aftercare. you guys took a shower and he seemed so awkward, because normally the girl he just banged would be out the door in a few minutes. but you're his best friend, so he just pats the bed and you two watch a movie or something. cuddling always felt too intimate for him, never been one to initiate it or entertain it.

☆ . . . you don't complain much. sure, it would've been nice. well, it would've been really nice, but you were a little too scared to ask chris to hold you like you guys were dating. were you two dating now? probably not. you've never really seen chris with the same girl for more than three days straight, and he's told you a bunch how he hates labels. huh. so why is that pit of longing still stuck in your chest?

—

ur girl wrote this with a vicious nosebleed. i lowk need to write for matt more so some stuff for him is comin soon hopefully !!! after i finish all the reqs i got tho

@conspiracy-ash @sturniolosfavkayleigh @lvrsturniolo @st7rnioioss @meatballlover10 @ashlishes @ferdzom @55sturn @chriseatingmeoutin4k @unknvhx

©eph3merall 2024

[bonkwrites]

OBSESSED with the whole american x 141 man combo. smut ahead!

Not necessarily giving up your identity when you move out of the US, just wanting to explore different cultures and see new things. Then you meet one of the boys, maybe it’s Kyle or Johnny, and they introduce you to your actual, literal husband within a week of knowing you. And Simon Riley isn’t a bad guy, they tell you, just a little rough around the edges. And you’re young, in a new country, you flew on a plane for the first time to get here and it didn’t go down so you feel invincible– and you fuck Simon Riley. 

The mask isn’t even in the equation, he won’t wear it when he’s not on a mission or on base, and he’s got a scar on his cheek that’s textured when you grab his face and kiss him. He tastes like bourbon. You taste like vodka and lime. He lays you down on your hotel mattress and spreads your legs and calls you love while he’s fucking you. 

“Fuck, lovie, like that. Take it like that.” you thought maybe the accent would make it too funny to be sexy but there might be something to be said about pavlov’s dog and the bell here…. 

He’s so big and so on top of you and he’s pushing your legs to your chest to pin you underneath him while he fucks you. You feel sorry for the other people on the floor the next morning but in moment all you can think is Simon, Simon, Simon and all you can do is beg him don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop�� 

You’re so happy you got your IUD before you started traveling. 

Simon says sometimes he thinks he did it in the wrong order. You fucked and then he took you out to dinner. You tell him sometimes you wish he would have let you ride him that night. He remedies your wishes immediately, all the time. 

Did you know there’s only one Taco Bell in all of England? You crave chalupa’s so intensely that you once rode a train for an hour and a bus for three just to have the worst Taco Bell of your life. Did you know that almost 50% of Americans own a gun or are proficient with one? Color 141 the most surprised they’ve ever been when you go to a gun range while they’re stationed in Texas and Simon tries to teach you gun safety but you correct him the entire time. 

“I used to go hunting with my dad, Si, I know this.” and then you have decently good grouping that’s just a little to the left and Johnny tries to show you how it’s really done and– misses entirely. 

“Is that how it’s done, Johnny?” you taunt, smiling so cheekily that Simon can’t keep his own smile off his face. 

“Listen up, bonnie, I’ve done more training-” 

“Doesn’t seem like it to me.” you mumble. Simon swear he can see the steam coming out of Johnny’s ears. 

“Lass, so help me God, if you don’t-” 

“Poor baby, Johnny,” you frown, still taunting him, your hips sway as you walk up to him and take his face into your hands, “Did you get beat in a shooting contest by a civvie? Will you live to see another day?”  You shake his head in your hands and Johnny goes red for a completely different reason than his pride and anger. Johnny’s hands twitch, Simon can see him reaching for your sides as you release his face and step away from him. Soon, Simon wants to tell him, she’s going to tell you soon.

[sightoru]

Katsuki's never been someone who's used or enjoyed pet names all too much, preferring the intimacy of saying someones first name instead of mushy shit like 'baby', 'honey', or 'darling'. It's just never really made sense to him, why say something like that when he can just use your name? Surely the tone of his voice conveys any emotion he might need. Your name mixed with curses when you forget to turn off the lights at night, your name accompanied by the sound of his boots at the door when he's home, your name mixed with the sounds of sheets in bed.

and you've never cared or paid any attention if it, even though calling strangers 'honey' and 'sweetheart' rolls of your tongue so naturally Katsuki spent the first month of your relationship wondering how it's possible to hold so much love in your heart for people you don't even know. the way you seem to care about strangers, asking questions about their day, remembering the details and bringing it up the next time you see them; all accompanied by sickly sweet words of affection, casually woven in between well wishes and giggles. you promise to return to them, and they promise to be there waiting.

Katsuki looks at you, one of these times after you both leave the market late at night (he always insists on going with you, says it's too dangerous for you to go alone. you always try to tell him you've been fine all these times before, but never fight his insistence too hard), takes in your body that glows gold under the streetlights, your tote bag full of things you bought (flowers, since the ones on the dining room table are starting to wilt. an eggplant for the Thai curry you've been meaning to make — though when you get home you'll see the lemongrass you've bought is bad and you'll have to make another trip, not that you or Katsuki mind. Green onions, chives, fresh thyme. Soft white bread lays on top of it all, and you're careful not to crush it under your arm.), and the way you mindlessly talk about your day. The cat you passed on the street, the stranger you regularly make conversation with at the bus stop. Your coworkers personal drama you can't help but be invested in — despite claims that you're not.

When he goes to bed with you that night, his keys in the same dish as yours ( a little ceramic one that sits on the table by the door. it's shaped like a sardine can. you giggled the whole way home after you bought it), his boots next to your flats — his are neat, sitting up right and yours are haphazardly thrown next to his. He'll fix them in the morning before he leaves— you'll wrap your arms around his middle, burying your face between his shoulder blades in an attempt to steal his warmth. You'll mutter something about your day, follow it up with 'good night, my love.' and something about it, will have his heart grow 4 sizes in his chest.

My love, my love, my love

He'll hold onto it the next day, and the one after that. let it settle into his mouth like honey before he starts whispering it to you when he thinks you're not listening. My love, my love, my love, the words seep into the air between you both and permeate the space. Chopsticks passed to you before dinner, handing off the remote so you can put on YouTube videos (make up tutorials, obviously. katsuki pretends he's not interested while he makes mental notes at the products that elicit a gasp from you) all followed up with those two words.

He looks at you, bundled on the couch, thinks of all the beautiful things he sees and the way that all reflects in the beauty of you.

Maybe he likes pet names, after all.

[spideyjimin]

Wait for your love | jjk (teaser)

—  pairing: firefighter!jungkook x female reader 

—  genre: kind of exes to lovers, parents au, angst, fluff, and smut 

— rating: 18+ 

—  summary: sixteen years ago, your life was turned upside down when you surrendered to the temptation — none other than jungkook, the star basketball player on your school’s team. today, after all that time, you reunite under tragic circumstances; a car crash where he saves your life.

—  words: 577

—  author’s note: here you have the teaser of the fic i’m currently working on 🤗 you have a tiny little teaser below & i hope you’ll enjoy it ❤️

—  tag list: let me know in any way if you want to be tagged when i post this and if you are part of my permanent taglist, you will automatically be added ✨

Jungkook and his team got called for a car accident involving several cars, and when they arrived, the scene was horrific.

There are probably five cars pressed and smashed one against the other. There are people injured and bleeding walking around the scene. Paramedics are already taking care of them, but Jungkook is walking to the cars to retrieve the people stuck inside. His captain screams orders and tells him which car he should go to.

His eyes look around, his heart breaking when he sees everyone involved and still stuck in their cars. Visions like this are quite common for him, it doesn’t happen all the time but it’s still recurrent. At the end of the day, his job is to save people in this type of situation.

When he reaches the car, he was assigned to, he takes a look at how many people there are inside. There’s just one person, a woman behind the steering wheel. She has her hand on her head, clearly showing that she might have a headache. She doesn’t really move. Instantly, Jungkook tries to open the door, but it’s showing a bit of resistance.

It feels impossible to open the door, but Jungkook sees the woman’s head falling. He’s getting worrier; she’s slumping into sleep which isn’t a good sign as she was holding her head barely seconds ago. He then proceeds to break the window so he can try to open it from inside. There are other possible ways, but it would be harder and more dangerous to get her out of the vehicle.

“Ma’am,” he says with urge.

Eventually, he manages to open the damn door from the inside. A good part of the car’s front is crashing into her. Before even thinking of taking her out, he places a cervical collar to protect her neck and spine.

“Ma’am,” he repeats. “Can you hear me?”

She doesn’t answer at all. Jungkook gets closer, his fingers brushing the hair from her face, but when he finally gets to properly see the woman’s face, his heart skips a beat. This woman is none other than you. His mind can’t start to get lost in the past right now. He needs to focus on taking you out of the car.   

You’re in pretty bad shape.

There’s blood on your forehead, you most probably have a wound on top of your head. There’s also blood at the level of your stomach, turning your green shirt into a very dark color. He can distinguish a big fragment of glass shoved into your belly. It doesn’t look good. Your legs are also completely smashed by the front, causing the steering wheel to be very close to your body.  Hopefully, your legs aren’t too injured. He doesn’t even want to start thinking about all the bruises on your body.

Slowly, he places one hand behind your back while his other hand slowly pushes your legs. He’s trying to be as careful as possible to avoid causing any other injury.  His strong arms hold you once he manages to fully remove you from the car. His eyes look down at your face with evident pain. He notices how you’re trying to open your eyes which makes him think that you’re trying to fight the urge to fall asleep.

“Yn,” he says while walking to an ambulance. “Please, stay with me,” he whispers with despair. “I’ve finally found you, and I can’t lose you right away.”