#thirteen years worth of nothing

[hitorimaron]

thirteen years

[ofbatsandballads]

Based on that little blurb you reblogged can I request the batfamily finding out that Jason has a girlfriend by him rummaging through the stuff in his pockets?

They're like dang dude what do you have in there? and it's all hair ties, lip stick, and a recipe for two 💕

-🍬

oh I love a good “Jason hides his lover from his family only for it to get revealed dramatically” fic and now thanks to you, nonnie, I get to write one!

jason todd x f!reader. warnings include canon typical injuries, sibling violence, and slight hints at the batfam’s more traumatic interactions. this is mostly a good ol’ batfam fic, because reader is only alluded to, but I really like it. sorry I made it angsty for a sec there, I just can’t resist the Dynamics™️.

Jason should’ve known better. Really, he should’ve. Taking on Killer Croc alone? A fool’s mistake, but he was just too stubborn to say yes when Bruce asked if he’d like some backup. So now here he is, loopy in the Batcave after Waylon absolutely rocked his shit.

“‘S not even that bad,” he slurs.

The fact that he trips on his own feet and nearly faceplants before Bruce catches him says otherwise.

“Sure it’s not, Jaylad. Let’s get you to the medbay,” Bruce grumbles, worry creeping into that stone cold exterior.

“I’m fine, old man. Lemme jus’ go home,” Jason whines.

He’s met with a grunt that firmly negates his request.

“You can stay in your room tonight,” Bruce says.

“Not my home. Wanna go home,” Jason mumbles as he drops onto the medbay bed.

If Bruce’s face drops a bit, if guilt and sorrow flash across his eyes? Well, Jason’s too concussed to notice. Bruce just nods and begins to assess any other injuries Croc may have left on him. When he reaches for the collar of the Kevlar top, Jason flinches away from him so hard that he slams into the wall behind him. It’s only when Bruce realizes that he’d brushed his fingers against the scar on Jason’s neck that he realizes why. His heart sinks and he can’t even look at his son. His shame doubles when he hears a trademark sigh of disappointment from behind him.

“C’mon, Littlewing. Let’s get all of this off you,” Dick says gently as he pushes past their father.

Jason doesn’t flinch when Dick starts to remove his gear. In fact, the presence of his older brother sets him at ease.

“I told ‘im I had it covered, Dickie. He didn’t fuckin’ listen,” Jason complains.

“Yeah, had it so covered you’re concussed in the family home?” Dick teases.

“What the fuck, Richard?” Jason groans before breaking out into giggles.

“How hard did Waylon hit him?” Dick jokingly asks Bruce.

“There’s no fractures, but the contusions are appearing rapidly. Jason’s lucky that’s all he got.”

Dick stares blankly at Bruce. He goes to open his mouth to retort that he was kidding, then decides it’s not worth his effort. Tim thinks it is, though.

“Wow, for a guy that’s chronically online for vigilante reasons, you still know nothing about the internet,” Tim laughs as he wanders into the medbay and flops down on the bed next to Jason’s.

Bruce ignores the teasing and catalogs all the injuries that are revealed to him as Dick strips away Jason’s tattered gear. There’s plenty of lacerations on his torso and likely some on his back. A few are deeper but nothing they’ll need to call Leslie for.

“Or maybe your jokes just aren’t funny, Timothy” Damian says haughtily as he sits himself next to Jason.

The thirteen-year-old tries to put on a mask of indifference, but it wavers when he spots the gash on the back of Jason’s right shoulder.

“Akhi, in what world did you think apprehending Waylon Jones alone would go well for you?” Damian scolds.

Jason narrows his seafoam eyes at Damian and lowers his voice.

“Ya really wanna talk about apprehending people alone, demon spawn?” he taunts lightly.

Damian’s eyes widen and he drops the subject because no, he actually does not want to talk about that on account of the fact that he tried to bring in Clayface alone two weeks ago and nearly got immortalized as a clay statue until Jason swooped in. The two of them had scrubbed his Robin suit within an inch of its life to try and hide the excursion from Bruce. It worked; only Alfred noticed the faint hint of clay in the threads of the cape and all he’d done was sigh and shake his head.

Jason’s gear is fully removed and his head is starting to clear a bit, wooziness replaced by a hammering pain in his temples. The headache masks any pain he would feel from the stitches being placed in his back, though he also suspects that those are less painful because Damian is doing them.

“Your technique is gettin’ better, y’know?” Jason whispers, the compliment unheard by the other three men bustling around the room.

The hands stitching him up freeze and he can imagine the look of surprise on Damian’s face even without turning around.

“Thank you,” he mutters. “I think it will be useful for future endeavors.”

Jason smiles to himself. He knows the kid wants to be a doctor, and he thinks it’s a damn better fate for him than whatever Bruce or Ra’s could’ve planned. The silence that settles over the medbay is peaceful, only broken by the sound of clacking computer keys or the zipping of evidence bags. Then, like an unholy boom of thunder, comes the voice of Tim Drake.

“What the hell is all this?”

Jason’s head whips to the side and he sees Tim rummaging through the pockets of his tactical pants. He goes to scramble off the bed and feels the harsh pull of thread that was mid-stitch through his skin.

“Mind your fuckin’ business, replacement!” Jason shouts.

He grabs a pillow and chucks it at Tim’s head, but he just ducks and continues to empty Jason’s pockets. The contents that spill out on the sterile tray are…perplexing to say the least. Two lip balms (one tinted red), three scrunchies (one black and two red), a grocery list with the word strawberries and a woman’s name underlined, a recipe for chicken stir fry with enough for two portions, and one single soft chocolate chip cookie lay unexplained in the harsh white light of the medbay.

If looks could kill, Tim Drake would be dead and buried six feet under.

“What part of mind your fuckin’ business did you not get?” Jason growls, glaring daggers at the nineteen-year-old.

“Holy shit, he’s got a fucking girlfriend!” Tim exclaims.

The pillow hits him square in the face this time. All four sets of eyes turn to him with varying emotions. Shock is evident in the forest green of Damian’s gaze, smugness and vindication in the icy blue of Tim’s, panic and guilt in the ocean blue of Dick’s, and some weird mix of sadness and fondness in the gunmetal blue of Bruce’s eyes that Jason doesn’t want to think about for too long. The acrobat quickly moves across the room and sweeps all the belongings off the tray and back into the pockets of the tac pants. He grabs Jason’s gear from Tim and hands it back to its rightful owner, who clutches it to himself protectively.

“Don’t make assumptions, Tim,” Dick says. “Civilians leave stuff on us all the time.”

It’s true. They’ve all come home with someone’s forgotten work badge or piece of jewelry before. The oddest thing was when Bruce had a Hello Kitty keychain stuck to the end of his cape. Jason casts a subtle look of gratitude at Dick for trying to give him plausible deniability. Not that it works. Tim stares not at Dick, but through him with his pale eyes in a way that makes a chill run down the spine of the eldest son.

“You knew already? How?” Tim asks incredulously.

Really, he’s a bit miffed that he hadn’t figured this out already. He has contingency plan files on each member of his family (himself included) and he had not a clue that Jason might be in a relationship.

“Drop. It. Now.” Jason warns.

Tim doesn’t consider it until he sees Jason’s fingers twitching in the direction of the butterfly knife on his belt. He doesn’t need another scar from Jason shanking him. Well, at least not today.

“Fine. Whatever. But if I have to bring Bernard here for Thanksgiving, then you have to bring,” and he pauses to remember and recite the name on the grocery list, “home too.”

He knows he’s pushed it when Jason lunges at him, dragging Damian and a threaded suturing needle behind him. Tim barely jumps out of the way in time to avoid a punch to the jaw.

“Robin! Knock it off!” Bruce barks.

It’s almost comical the way all four of his boys freeze in place. It is slightly less comical the way they all proceed to glare at him.

“Fuck it,” Jason grumbles as he settles back on the bed for Damian to continue stitching his wounds. “Just get these done so I can go home.”

“Home to his girlfriend,” Tim murmurs.

“I will fuckin’ slash your throat again, you second-rate fuck!”

Bruce lets out one long suffering sigh. He doesn’t know you yet (a quiet part of him hopes he may one day be allowed to) but he already feels sorry that you’ve been roped into all of this. He feels even more sorry when the butterfly knife flies past his head and buries itself into the wall inches from Tim’s neck. Really, what is he going to do with these boys?

[hotchfiles]

— help me hold onto you • aaron hotchner

fem!reader, unprotected vaginal sex, a bit of angst.

      He knew he would be in trouble whenever he turned those keys. What he wasn’t expecting was how big the trouble would be. He had no idea he would open the door to three bags full of clothes and other things he left at your place as the months passed, waiting for him.

      “Darling? What–What are these?” He asks even though he knows the answer, hoping you want to at least talk about it before making any harsh decisions. You’ve been in a relationship for almost a year now and it works. It always worked.

      Normally you wouldn’t drink before an argument, still when he gets to the kitchen he sees you calmly sipping on a tall glass of wine, fingers tapping on the table, hair up, face clean but red, you were in your pajamas already, nothing like you probably looked hours before.

      “What’s the only thing I asked of you, Aaron?” You don’t move, don’t glance up at him, eyes focused solely on how the purplish red liquid moved in your glass, taking a big sip right after.

      Aaron sighs in frustration, he didn’t want this to become a fight. He was so tired. “I know, I’m sorry–”

      “Answer the question, please.”

      “Don’t make promises I can’t keep.” He takes his tie off quickly, suddenly feeling suffocated by the fabric surrounding his neck. That’s why your relationship worked, you knew he was busy and his schedule was unpredictable, so very early on you accepted it as it was, saying you wouldn’t be mad at him as long as he didn’t break any promises. If you’re not sure, don’t promise me you will be able to make it.

      First months he wouldn’t promise you anything, too afraid to break it, to disappoint you.

      He watches as you take the wine in a mouthful and refills the glass, the bottle now empty and starts getting frustrated, you’re a loud drunk and you’re surely already getting tipsy.

      This was the first time he slipped up, it didn’t need to be such a big deal, it didn’t avail to having his things right at the door as if he was getting kicked out. All the other times he promised he could take time off, he did it. Just–Teens were getting kidnapped, the team needed him.

      “We saved two girls today.” Low blow. But it was true, he wasn’t back in time because of that, he got on the jet instead of staying back to do that. To save two thirteen year old girls. Not some futile reason. It had to count for something.

      “I’m proud of you for that, Aaron. Are you proud of me? For the promotion we were supposed to celebrate with my boss? Or are our accomplishments only worth it when it’s about saving someone?” You raise your voice only slightly, the alcohol from the sweet wine getting to you slowly and then all at once.

      You always tried your best to keep your voice down when arguing with him, simply because he never raised his, and it could be an endearing feature if it didn’t look like he did it to look like the rational one, the right one.

      “That’s not what i said–”

      “I know what you said. You want to make the fact you let me down okay because you did a wonderful thing someplace else. That’s not how it works.” You open the second bottle of wine of the night, feeling his eyes on your back. “I want you to leave.”

      “You know this is ridiculous, you’re acting like a child.” Sore spot. You were a few years younger and that had never been a problem. But he couldn’t go back now, he could see the anger darkening your eyes, your knuckles turning white by the strength you’re using to grip on the edge of the table.

      “How am I a child?” You begin slowly and keeping your voice down, you get up finally from the chair you had been sitting, facing him directly, his instincts make him try to touch your arms, but you dodge it quickly. “We had an agreement. You broke it. Am I a child for not giving you permission to hurt me again?”

      He knows you’re about to snap, your chest coming up and down in rapid breaths, and he doesn’t feel particularly in the right, he knows he screwed up and he’s sorry, but your reaction is out of proportion to him, an exaggeration made to make him feel more guilty than he already does. “I said you’re acting like a child. The one time things don’t go your way and you’re packing me out?” Aaron almost feels the sharpness of a slap but he’s quick enough to grab your wrist. “See? proving my point.”

      “How many times do I have to accept you screwing up so I can be seen as mature?” You yank your arm out of his grip and go back to your drink, “Same times as Haley? How many times did she forgive you so you could go around and do it all again?”

      Lower blow.

      Hotch feels it right in his core and he’s angry at you for bringing up but more so angry at himself because you were right. Still, it is anger nonetheless that guides his next actions, quickly and firmly walking up to you, caging you against the table in sudden movements.

      Your breath hitches from the surprise, and your attempt to move is stopped by his roughed hands on your chin, firm but never close to hurting. “I’m not leaving.” You wince, not in fear of him, but of how easy he can make your mind go blank when he’s that close.

      His eyes go from your eyes to your lips, he notices your failed attempt to conceal the way you licked your lips, he glances at your chest, heavy breathing under your thin pajama shirt, nipples hardening against the fabric.

      Damn you for choosing wine.

      Hotch reads your mind almost, but his smirk doesn’t last too long displayed on his lips, your hands pulling him by the neck, a low groan followed by a “Fuck this” leaving your wine tasting lips just mere seconds before gluing to his.

      Eager to get your forgiveness, he is quick to follow your lead, both hands sneaking under your clothes, one down the waistband of your shorts, grabbing hard on the flesh of your ass, the other drawing soft circles on your nipple.

      You melt into the kiss, his lips, his hands, his scent, him. And you have no time to feel bad about it, pulled up to sit on the table, legs around his waist, you can feel how hard he is against your wetness.

      A pained whimper leaves his lips when you use the new position to grind onto him, needing something, anything against your clit at this point.

      Aaron sinks his teeth into your bottom lip to get your full attention, earning a loud moan in response, his hands travel your thighs and you pull his shirt out his pants so you can feel his skin under your fingertips, not bothering to unbutton them and working with what you got under it.

      His lips travel your neck and your collarbone, “I love you, so, so much”. His declaration comes in between kisses and the sucking of your skin, “Please don’t make me leave after this.” It comes in a whisper now, but he doesn’t stop, pushing your shorts down and sliding it down till it drops to the floor with your help.

      “Just shut up and take your pants off.”

      “You know I can only do one of those.” It makes you laugh and you sink your nails to the bit of fat on his side, the tiniest bit of annoyance at how easy he had you in the palm of his hand and how he didn’t even seem to know it truly.

      On the edge of the table sliding his hard cock into your folds was an easy feat, pants, shoes and his boxers long gone, his socks stayed on almost making him lose balance as he feels just how wet you are. He drops his head, forehead on your shoulder

      “Fuck—Oh my god, you are so wet, you’re always so wet for me.” It isn’t arrogant, it’s appreciative almost, you move his head so you can look at him, hot, sweaty already, cheeks so red as his eyes were glassy, the mix of lust and love and regret clear in his dark caramel irises.

      You kiss him once more, sweet, forgiving and he takes this as his sign to continue, pushing you down the table, Hotch holds your thighs for support, plunging his cock into your wet cunt with ease, bottoming out at the first thrust. You enjoyed the stretching pain and you never had the patience to wait.

      Lower lips between your teeth, you slide one of your hands to your clit, two fingers working your arousal, quickly replaced by Aaron’s calloused fingers. You arch your back and moan loudly, “Fuck, yes, and move.”

      It feels like an order and for Hotch it is one, he is delighted to oblige, maintaining the same finger moves on your clit and beginning to fuck your pussy, strong, firm and precise at first.

      “Honey, fuck—Please…” His begging is meant to warn you that if you keep clenching around him he won’t be able to control himself, you almost don’t listen, fingers working on your own nipples enjoying the high he is always able to get you in.

      “Aaron—I’m… Fuck, don’t stop, you’re so good.”

      The praising, the guidance, the reassurance, it makes the moans leaving his lips seem like whining, he enjoys it too much.

      “Yeah? Like this?” The way your hands try to grab him is enough answer to him, along with how tight your pussy is throbbing against him, you’re almost there, he can feel it.

      His movements on your clit get sloppier, the sight and sound of your wetness against his digits making him go insane. Your back arches once more and your whole body begin to squirm, the tight coil in your lower belly finally ripping, “Yes, fuck—“ You’re breathless, weak, but you still have it in you to edge him in, “Aaron, baby, cum for me, please.”

      He would be crazy to do anything but, so quickly you ask him and his hands are hoisting both your legs over his shoulders, getting a new, deeper position, it doesn’t take long for you to feel him filling you up, “I can’t live without you, you’re so, so good for me” His lasts broken words before letting himself go.

      You don’t move and neither does he, his dick softening inside you, his hands caging you in the table and his head dropped to his chest, both just trying to recover.

      “Aaron?”

      “Yes, sweetheart?”

      “You can stay.” He looks at you with nothing but love and happiness and gratitude, “But if you screw up again do not try fucking me into forgiving you, I’ll chop your dick off.”

      “You like it too much to do that.” His grin is sincere, feeling finally free to joke around you, he gets out of you and you whine at the loss. “See?”

      “Bite me.”

      “Gladly.”

[persephone-writes]

A Diviner's Guide to James Potter: Series Masterlist

(ongoing) - read on ao3

Description: Being friends with Lily Evans was difficult when you were head over heels for her ex-boyfriend, James. Your problems are only made worse when you begin receiving strange omens that point to a less than desirable future.

Genre: Friends to lovers, slow burn (I mean it!), fluff & angst.

Rating: Teen (swearing, alcohol/weed/cigarettes, no smut). More detailed warnings for the whole fic can be found on Chapter One.

Series Word Count (so far): 147.5k

+:｡.｡.｡:+*+:｡.｡.｡:+*+:｡.♡.｡:+*+:｡.｡.｡:+*+:｡.｡.｡+

Chapter One: The Omen

You tell your friends about your odd findings while working on your most recent Divination assignment, all while trying to push away your growing feelings for James

Chapter Two: The Heart Wants What it Wants

Answers to your predicament are few and far between when Sirius gets a letter from his parents and the Gryffindor quidditch team receives some excellent news. 

Chapter Three: Wicked and Wayward

Gryffindor plays Hufflepuff in the fourth match of the season, complete with an eventful after party.

Chapter Four: Paranoid

Hogsmeade is fun, but not when Sirius dangles a dangerous secret right in front of your nose.

Chapter Five: The Blizzard

A late winter storm buries Hogwarts in piles of snow, causing James to grow increasingly restless. It also blows in a much needed answer.

Chapter Six: Portraits Talk

Sirius attempts to quell your anger, though the pressure of acting aloof threatens to topple you.

Chapter Seven: Communing with Nature

You receive another omen which points to nothing good, though James is always there to help ease your mind.

Chapter Eight: The Duel

Mulciber becomes a looming threat to you and your friends, only increasing your existing anxieties. 

Chapter Nine: Red and Gold

Old insecurities are brought to the surface, but James attempts to reassure you with the promise of a fun weekend. 

Chapter Ten: Scurrilous Scoundrel

A night of firewhiskey, dancing, and racing hearts is unfortunately cut short when you stumble across eerie meeting. 

Chapter Eleven: The Hour Struck Nine

Tensions between you and James run high when you, Peter, and Marlene return to the RoR.

Chapter Twelve: Discontent

After nearly seven years, you finally make it into Dumbledore’s office, though this does little to ease your growing nerves, especially when it comes to James.

Chapter Thirteen: A Lovely Shade of Turquoise

James forces you to talk about what happened, opening up a can of worms you wish you could charm back in.  

Chapter Fourteen: The Stars Can Speak

After your fight with James, you're left entirely unsure how to act. However, your friends, and the stars, have some (un)helpful suggestions.

Chapter Fifteen: Repairo

Two diverging paths are presented to you: avoidance or intuition. Which one will you choose?

Chapter Sixteen: The Chaste Moon

The full moon comes just before Easter, fostering a time of rebirth and renewal…among other things. 

Chapter Seventeen: An Invitation

You and the others search for answers regarding the return of your nefarious classmates. 

Chapter Eighteen: Innamorati

Presents, dueling practice, and parties, oh my!

Chapter Nineteen: Yours, James

You and James are forced to deal with the highly eventful nature of Saturday night.

Chapter Twenty: And Then There Was You

You learn more about James's former pining, realizing there is less to fear than you initially thought.

Chapter Twenty-One: Severus' Story

It seems as though the past always has a way of catching up with you (and everyone else around you), even if Quattlebaum has hopes for your future.

Chapter Twenty-Two: Tears

Still reeling with your discoveries, you're left to deal with the aftermath.

Chapter Twenty-Three: The Hourglass

You try your best to help Sirius with his brother, even if it means trusting your abilities in Divination more than ever before.

Chapter Twenty-Four: A Cliff Worth Plummeting

You have an interesting run-in with Peeves, forcing you to confront the inevitable.

Chapter Twenty-Five: I Know

You have a run in with an odious adversary, reminding you that your problems may not end at graduation.

Chapter Twenty-Six: Coming Soon!

•-—✼.o○☆———☆○o.✼.o○☆———☆○o.✼—-•

Antique book cover credits:

The Deer-Parks and Paddocks of England by Joseph Whitaker, Captain Courtesy by Edward Childs Carpenter & Goldfish Varieties and Tropical Aquarium Fishes; a Complete Guide to Aquaria and Related Subjects by William T. Innes

[stllmnstr]

something old, something new

hello have a 2.3k drabble about Heeseung still having feelings for his ex heavily inspired by the above behind the scenes no doubt mv pics and based on this anon prompt sent to me:

this was supposed to be short but I got carried away and ended up writing 2.3k on my PHONE in an hour so please excuse any typos 😭

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

Lee Heeseung loves weddings.

When he admits this to people, which is in and of itself a fairly rare occasion, they assume it’s for all of the usual reasons.

The open bar, the well curated playlist, the free food... After all, those are the typical things men in their mid twenties tend to enjoy. And Heeseung always nods along. Forces a laugh whenever his conversation partner cracks another age old joke about getting a little too tipsy on the dance floor.

Besides, it’s not like he’s immune to baser pleasures. At twenty-five, Heeseung does genuinely enjoy eating well and getting drunk on someone else’s dime.

But if he digs a little deeper, is a little more honest with himself, the real reason he loves weddings so much is the romance of it all.

A white dress thats been agonized over and alternated to perfection. A cake thats been taste-tested and intentionally designed with the lucky couple in mind. A venue that likely cost an arm and a leg, but it’s worth it, because it’s the place where two people get to display the love they have for each other in front of everyone that’s important in their lives.

And Jay, he thinks, has outdone them all. The ballroom Heeseung steps into with perfectly shined shoes is jaw-droppingly gorgeous. Crystal chandeliers bathe the high ceilinged room in soft, warm light that almost glows like candles at dusk.

The aisle separates two generously sized sections of seating from one another. Each table is laid with a crease less cream colored tablecloth and a bouquet of flowers that Heeseung doesn’t want to guess the price of. It’s stunning. It’s perfect.

And Jay, Heeseung’s best friend of thirteen years, deserves nothing less.

Jake seems to agree. Coming to stand next to Heeseung, he jerks his chin towards the door that leads to the neighboring room. “I just heard from a very trustworthy source that the open bar starts at 1 pm sharp,” he grins.

Heeseung has a sneaking suspicious that this trustworthy source is Sunghoon, which means it’s likely to be incorrect. Besides, booze isn’t what he’s here for.

“Hopefully not,” Heeseung nudges Jake’s shoulder, “since no one wants to watch you stumble down the aisle.”

“At least I’m just a groomsman.” Jake shrugs. “You, on the other hand, Mr. Best Man, have to be on your best behavior. Besides, I can handle my alcohol.”

Heeseung’s lips flatten. “I have several videos that prove otherwise.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jake waves his palm. “I’ll be good. I promise. No shots until after the ceremony.”

Heeseung just rolls his eyes. His younger friend might be a little more lax when it comes to conducting himself in public, but Heeseung isn’t actually worried. This is Jay’s wedding, after all. And no matter how much Jake and Sunghoon enjoy a good party, they also know how to take things seriously when it matters.

For a moment, Jake just looks around the room, taking it in like Heeseung had a few minutes prior. Similar actions, different conclusions. Jake doesn’t comment on the lighting or the tablecloths or even the romance. Instead, he says, “I can’t believe Jay’s actually getting married.”

“Yeah,” Heeseung breathes. Jay is the first in their friend group to officially leave bachelor-hood, and it does feel a bit strange to bear witness to. “Me neither.”

Jake is still shaking his head. “And he’s the first one out of all of us. That’s almost weirder. You know, we always thought it would be –”

Remembering himself, Jake lets the sentiment die on his lips.

It doesn’t matter, though. Heeseung already knows what he was going to say.

We always thought it would be you.

Four long years ago, at twenty-one, Heeseung had felt far too young for marriage. But that didn’t stop him from imagining what you’d look like in a white dress. What flavor of wedding cake the two of you would select from the box of samples. What overpriced venue you would decide to officially intertwine your lives in.

It didn’t stop him from tucking away a small, velvet box in the back of his drawer for safekeeping. From fantasizing about kneeling in front of you and finally sliding a gorgeous, sparking ring right where he wanted it to belong.

It didn’t stop him from making promises and plans. Adjustments to his life just to make sure there was always space for you.

But one year later, the box and the ring inside were still tucked away. And the love Heeseung kept safe suddenly had no place to go.

He told his friends it was mutual, that you’d made the decision together. But Heeseung never wanted to let go. Even if a job opportunity meant you had to move across the country. Even if it made no logical sense for him to follow when he was still finishing his degree.

It was circumstances, he explained to his friends, to his family. Not anything either of you did wrong.

But alone, surrounded by the four walls of his bedroom and the overwhelming clamor of his own thoughts, Heeseung just cried. Sobbed. The kind of tears that left him gasping for air and with a throb behind his temple.

Because he knew that he never would have done that to you. He would have turned down the job, would have found a way to make long distance work, would have transferred to another university to be close to you even if it wasn’t logical.

He would have done it, the big romantic gesture that gives the rom-com a happy ending and signals to the production team that it’s time to roll the credits.

But you didn’t. When he suggested long distance, you just sighed. And there were tears in your eyes too, but there was no fight.

So Heeseung, despite every bone in his body screaming at him not to, let you go.

And now, three years later, he’s about to watch his best friend get married and pretend it doesn’t sting. He’s happy for Jay. He is. But the selfish parts of him will always wish he was the one waiting at the end of the aisle instead. For you.

The universe has never made a habit of bending to his desires, though, and he fulfills his role as best man well. The ceremony goes off without a hitch, and Jake is appropriately steady-footed in his role as a groomsman.

The white dress is gorgeous. The cake is delicious. The venue is perfect. Whatever romance is, Jay and his fiancée — no, his wife — have captured it well.

Despite his earlier words, Heeseung makes a home for himself at the aforementioned open bar the second the ceremony is over. Knocking back another swig of whiskey, he appreciates the slight burn. At least it’s in his throat this time, instead of his heart. And at least it’s induced by alcohol instead of misplaced jealousy.

But he must have had one too many drinks, because for a fleeting moment, he swears that the late arrival that makes a hesitant entrance into the reception room is—

No.

There’s no way.

You only knew Jay because you knew Heeseung, and those flowers withered three long years ago. You have no reason to be here now.

But then he hears it, and oh the lurch in his heart hurts just as bad as it did the first time. Because despite the improbability of it all, that’s your voice that floats above the music and exchanged pleasantries with another guest. Even after all the time that’s passed, Heeseung would know it anywhere. Could pick it out of any crowd.

He turns to you slowly, as if he can delay the inevitable just a little longer. As soon as his eyes land on you, he realizes his mistake. He shouldn’t have looked at you at all, should have just slid off the bar stool and ran in the other direction because it still hurts.

You’re three years older, and the time has been good to you. The evening dress you wear hangs from your body in a way that only reminds him of what you look like beneath it, of the way running his hands and his lips and his love over the skin you conceal used to feel like second nature. The way you used to play with his hair with his head in your lap, trading small moments of intimacy after a long day.

It hurts. It aches and it stings and it burns.

He has to get out of here. He has to leave. Now.

Not caring if he’s making a scene, Heeseung stands from the barstool. The only reason he tries to be somewhat discreet is to avoid the heat of your gaze.

All the way to the door on the opposite side of the room, he doesn’t turn back. Not once. On the other side of the door, he lets his body go limp against the solid surface beneath his spine, just for a moment. He exhales a long held breath.

But the air is still stifling, even as he loosens the tie at his neck. Straightening back to his full height, he turns down a short hallway until he arrives at the small outdoor balcony he noticed earlier.

The air outside is cold, at least. Fresh.

On the horizon, the sun spends its last few moments of the day painting the sky in gorgeous, golden hues. Heeseung squints, but he doesn’t look away. Hands wrapped around the bannister that lines the balcony, he sags into himself.

Shoulders hunched, he forces a long inhale into his lungs. And then he releases it. His breath is a pattern he can cling to, something steady that tethers him back to reality. Something to focus on that isn’t the war in his mind.

But peacetime is only an illusion. After a handful of quiet minutes, he hears the door open behind him.

“Oh,” you startle. He knows it’s you, even from just one syllable. “Sorry, I didn’t realize someone was out here already. I’ll just…” Your words trail off into silence, but Heeseung doesn’t hear retreating footsteps, doesn’t hear the door close again. After another stilted moment, what he hears is, “Heeseung?”

Your voice is small. As if you can apologize just by being gentle. As if he’s a wounded animal you don’t want to startle.

And Heeseung, despite himself, does feel a bit like a kitten left out in the rain when he finds it in himself to turn and face you.

The only word he says is your name. His tone is steady, even. More so than he thought he was capable of. But he’s looking at you now too, and his eyes have never been good at hiding secrets.

“I…” You trail off again. You’re at a loss too. “How are you?”

“Don’t do that,” Heeseung shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” you retreat immediately. But Heeseung remembers when you used to argue, when you used to fight back. When you valued the strength of your relationship over his wounded pride.

“Don’t be,” Heeseung shakes his head again. “You made your choice, so stick to it. You don’t get to…” He screws his eyes shut for a moment, fist clenching at his side. Opening his eyes again, he matches your gaze. “You don’t get to leave me and then apologize for it.”

Your breath hitches, but you don’t miss a beat. “I meant for intruding,” you tell him. “I was apologizing for disturbing you.”

But you remember how he used to love making space for you in his life. How his plans were your plans and his time alone on a balcony would only be made better if you were there, too.

And you still remember the day you were inspired by a strong bout of spring fever, how you dedicated an entire afternoon to deep cleaning.

You still remember the small, velvet box you found.

You didn’t open it, but you didn’t have to. The small, nondescript container scared you enough. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to marry Heeseung. You already had Pinterest boards full of white dresses and three-tier cakes and stunning venues. Suits that you thought would bring out his best features.

But you’d also just gotten the news of your promotion. Across the country. You didn’t know how to tell him, and you had less of an idea how to leave him.

But you knew you had to. He would follow you, if you let him. You were sure of it. But he was enrolled in the best university for his program, and you watched him fight tooth and nail to earn his spot there.

Heeseung was a bright light, a beacon of good things, and if you were honest with yourself, you felt like his commitment to you was something that only weighed him down.

He was an adult, too. A young one, yes, but a full, grown person all the same. Perfectly capable of making his own decisions, but you took that from him anyway.

And now, three years later, you can still read him like an open book. There’s hurt in his gaze, pain that lingers even now. There’s resentment, too, and you can’t blame him for it.

I still love you, you want to tell him. Because it’s true. Because you do. Because you can see it in his eyes, too.

But you’ve always been better at holding your tongue than him.

Instead, you turn on your heel, planning to exit the way you came.

Fingers around the door handle, the sound of your name stops you.

It sounds like he’s begging, like he’s pleading, and you can’t bear to turn and see the results of your devastation as surely as you hear them.

Instead, you remain motionless. You squeeze your eyes shut as tightly as you can.

And then, so faintly it’s almost lost to the wind, he says, “Stay. Please.”

.....

thanks for reading! send me a drabble prompt here if you'd like!

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

hi sex witch,

how can I ethically continue to be a slut if i have hpv? I have the gardasil-9 vaccine and I've never had any symptoms (and i was told its not the strains that cause cervical cancer), but knowing that I could potentially continue to spread it even if i have safer sex and let everyone I hook up with give informed consent - what if im hooking up with people with penises who can't be tested and could then spread it further? the only person I feel comfortable sleeping with anymore is the person ive been hooking up with for 2 years who probably gave it to me, but i don't really like that person outside of sex and I want to hook up with people i like more. but I don't feel comfortable hooking up with multiple people because I might spread it.

any words of wisdom?

hi anon,

the use of the word "ethically" is so interesting here. personally I don't see anything unethical about being sexually active as a person with HPV, especially given that alternative seems to be penning up people with STIs and denying them the experience of sexual intimacy. in addition to being cruel this would be fairly impractical, as the CDC estimates that something like 85% of sexually active people will be infected with HPV in their lifetime - although those infections are rarely permanent, as around 90% of cases clear up on their own within two years, so the pen would also have a hell of a revolving door.

the vast majority of HPV infections do absolutely fuck all to the people infected; after the strains that cause cervical cancer (which you don't have), the next worst effect is likely to be uncomfortable but thoroughly nonfatal and utterly treatable genital warts. it's worth noting that even this is unlikely; there are nearly 200 known strains of HPV and only two are known to cause genital warts (as opposed to the thirteen that can cause cancer).

even if you do - what, that's one extra nugget of information to slip into conversations prefacing future sexual encounters? "I have HPV, it's not really a big deal, there's a very slim chance you MIGHT develop genital warts in a few months but probably not, would you still like to have sex?" and that's assuming, again, you have a warts strain; if not, the conversation goes more like "I have HPV, it does absolutely nothing and will probably go away on its own even if you get it. would you still like to have sex?"

you're not a toxic waste dump; you're a human being with an incredibly common infection. you can ethically be a slut that same way you did before, by talking honestly with your partners and taking their needs into account alongside your own. fundamentally not a single thing has changed about you as a person.

[fandom-lover-extra]

DP X DC Prompt: Conspiracy Cryptids - Soultouch

Soulmate bonds were looked upon as a blessing. For they were rare and few and far between.

With the added presence of extraterrestrial lifeforms, there was a guarantee that it made it even more difficult to find any potential Soulmate that someone might have. 

And of course, not all Soulmate bonds were the same, most differing in variety. The point being, it was very difficult to find one's soulmate if one did have them. 

However, the media stated that it was always worth the effort. Soulmate bonds always worked out, either that be platonically or romantically, soulmates would be with each other for life.

So, what exactly did one do if their soulmate kept dying over and over again?

Tim, Bernard, Danny, and Wes all shared a soulmate bond. A touch-bond based Soulbond. They could feel anything their soulmate physically came into contact with. Skin on skin. And they could also feel any injuries their soulmate acquired.

Which, wasn't inherently an issue.

At first, the group couldn't actually tell how many soulmates they had once they realized what the soulbond was. The general consensus amongst them all was that they at least had more than one soulmate.

Danny didn't look to deeply into it. Wes and Bernard had been curious but had also left the detail alone. And Tim was the one that had been the one that had actually spent hours upon hours of sleepless nights trying to figure out just how many he had.

(He had even learned morse code in the hopes of communicating with his soulmates, but not being able to actually get his soulmates to do the same thing had more or less ruined the point.)

Everything, other than that, had been fine for the most part. Besides the general occasional scraps and bruises, everything had been fine. That was a normal occurrence amongst a touch-bond based Soulbond.

And then, Tim Drake became Robin at thirteen years old. And the injuries got a bit more severe. They were much more serious. 

This started Bernard down the path of looking into Gotham's vigilante's. It was no secret that Batman took on Young prodigies, that other heroes at times would do the same. With the injuries his soulmate was receiving, Bernard began his search.

Danny and Wes had considered that their soulmate might be apart of an abusive household. But besides hugging themselves, they couldn't add much for comfort.

And then, Danny died when he was fourteen. His end of the bond going quiet. Tim, Bernard, and Wes all assumed one of their soulmates had died. That was until Danny's end of the bond came back as if nothing had happened. Sometimes with even more bruises they didn't feel happen originally, or completely unharmed.

Tim and Bernard assumed their soulmate was in the hospital, going in-between life and death. Tim doing more than a few illegal things in an attempt to find one of his soulmates. Wes had thought the same until he had saw Phantom bleed once. Noticed how Phantom always appeared when that end of the bond went quiet and was nowhere to be seen when it came back. He drove himself insane looking for Phantom.

Danny decidedly, did not in fact know of the frenzy he was putting his soulmates through. Or the fact that he was apart of making his soulmates as insane as they are about their conspiracy theories.

[gojos-thot-patrol]

I got an ask for a Bully Sukuna x Reader, and while I AM ACTIVELY WORKING ON IT its got me thinking so many thoughtsssss.

I'm thinking about Bully! Sukuna, that made thirteen years of your life miserable. Who had a habit of alway pushing you around, and calling you thr cruelest names, and scaring away any potential romantic partner you had ever had.

Bully Sukuna that you started to develop reluctant feelings for at some point. Wires crossing in your brain and finding some version of control in pretending he covted you- not hated you. You imagined what the world would be like of he used his natural charisma and imposing figure for good rather than evil. If his strong arms protected you rather than hurt you.

Bully Sukuna, who you're unbelievably relieved to get away from after graduation, and absolutely devastated to find at college.

He corners you at a party, drunkenly eyeing you up. "You look good for once." His words are terrifying- because he's never said anything that nice to you before.

"Thanks." You grumble, trying to leave only for him to hold out an arm and stop you. He takes a second to finish off his drink before continuing.

"Where do you think you're going, loser?" He scoffs, haphazardly throwing his empty plastic cup behind him. Which- disrespectful- but you expect nothing less from him.

"Back to my dorm?" You mumbled sheepishly.

"Why? You should just come back to mine instead."

I'm thinking about Bully!Sukuna who always had a desperate crush on you. Who found your charming smile and dazzling eyes irresistible. Who only bullied you because he had no idea how else to get your attention- and bad attention was better than nothing.

Bully Sukuna who made your eyes water, just so he could imagine them later when he was fucking his hands. In his fantasy, they're tears of pleasure- not pain.

Okay, maybe a little bit of pain.

Bully Sukuna who's already drunk when you get to the party, filter long since discarded. Who with the social lubricant of alcohol in his veins actually finds it in him to openly thirst over you. A part of you hates it. A part of you loves it.

A part of you uses this revelation to finally take some control in this dynamic.

You're in his dorm, but you're on top of him. You're riding him for all he's worth, finally using his stupidly sculpted body for your pleasure. And he's crumbling under you, feeling the total bliss that being enveloped in you brings. Your chest fills with pride as he begs you to let him cum. Finally, you have some power here.

Bully Sukuna who won't stop texting you after your little rendezvous. Who wants so desperately to meet back up. And you, dear reader, who reads his texts and never responds. Who gets a little shot of serotonin when you remember the power is finally in your court. You meet up every once in awhile- enough to keep him addicted. But never enough to fully satisfy his need to be with you.

You're starting to wonder who's really the Bully here

[moriitis]

Knight!Toby Rogers. HCs. Medieval AU. 18+

¬ Comes from a very poor background, lived in the poorer district.

¬ His dad a drunk, his mother passed away during childbirth. Lyra had found work and gotten married, thus leaving him with his father.

¬ His dad nothing but a low life farmer who used what money he got on alcohol. Claimed he fought in the 'big war' but Toby never believed it. ¬ Finally snapped one night and killed his father in a fury of rage. When his fathers taxes weren't paid, the local guards discovered the murder. ¬ Toby is now labelled as a criminal and is sentenced to death. ¬ But the day of his execution, the King's Knight decides that Toby deserves a chance and convinces the King to send Toby to Knight school for the rest of his childhood; serving his sentence to be trained as a Knight. ¬ At the age of thirteen, he narrowly escapes the death sentence and is sent to Knight school. ¬ Knight school is rough and brutal and Toby faces countless bullying from the fellow boys due to his tics. Finds himself getting beat up a lot there, chased out into the woods or even spat on as they walked past. ¬ 'You'd never make it as a Knight.' They would sneer at him. ¬ Six AM starts, running until his lungs could collapse. They'd deny breakfast if you couldn't complete the laps around the fortress, which was perched atop a mountain. ¬ Many boys fell to their death, each morning a boy missing from the treacherous paths and rocky climbs. ¬ Three hours of learning the art of combat. Swords, axes, fist to fist. Each wound nothing but a lesson to become better. ¬ Toby finishes Knight school at the age of eighteen. ¬ He's immediately employed by the same King that spared his life, now finding himself in chains of loyalty to the crown. ¬ Toby is devoted to the crown and the King. ¬ He's put on wall duty, executions at first and ensuring safety within the kingdom and its citizens. ¬ But really proves his worth when he takes an arrow that was meant for the King, saving the King's life. ¬ Ranked up to now Knight for the King himself, attending high court meetings, the feasts and following him on horseback when needed so.

¬ Becomes nothing but a loyal dog. ¬ Upon his rank up, Toby shaves his head. A sign of his devotion to his king and a renewal of his vows as a Knight. ¬ A quiet, dead, brown eyed boy that lost his innocence young. ¬ Doesn't speak unless spoken to, but as the years tick on he will begin to advise for the King. ¬ Adding inputs in council meetings, helping avoid another great war. ¬ Becomes witty, smart and dangerous the more he works alongside the King. ¬ A small part within him desperate to be loved, looked after. ¬ A very broken shell of a man. ¬ Does not attend chapel as he is not religious.

Scenario...

You are the Princess/Prince. HCs.

¬ Loving you is strictly out of the question. It's forbidden, you were due to be married off to another. ¬ But Toby couldn't deny the feelings he felt each time you looked at him. Like he was being.. noticed? ¬ You looked through his armour, you saw nothing but a touch starved mutt. ¬ Each time he was instructed to guard you or accompany you, he'd feel such a sense of duty that weighed on him, greater than any other.

¬ Being near you, near your presence, it did things to him in a way he couldn't describe. ¬ Was it the lack of sex? ¬ He'd spent some nights in the brothels, but the idea of you, how wrong it would be. It lulled him in more. ¬ Each time you grazed fingers, he'd look at you in a way that longed for desire and you felt it too. ¬ He spent more time alone with you, even in the chapel. ¬ And he wasn't sure what happened, but now you were pinned against the chapel wall and he was helplessly attacking the flesh of your neck. ¬ And it wasn't just that instance where he'd taken you helplessly. ¬ The empty armoury, hell with it, the stable even. ¬ And it was wrong, so wrong, but the thought of it only encouraged him more. ¬ He'd watch in jealousy as your hand was given away, the thought to kidnap you and make him his own becoming a thought that kept him awake at night. ¬ How he could make it work, how he could be a good husband, how he could protect you.

[mingiatz]

Ateez Masterlist

Hongjoong

♡ Idol Series Part VII: Not Just a Secret

Prologue | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Epilogue

Kim Hongjoong, an idol, and Jiha, a music editor, share a hidden, undefined relationship��a situationship that neither of them dares to label. When Jiha decides to walk away, Hongjoong convinces himself that it’s for the best—until he realizes he can’t let her go. As they struggle with unspoken feelings, misunderstandings, and forced separation, fate pulls them back together in the most unexpected way.

Pairing:Hongjoong × OC (Jiha)

Trope: Situationship-to-Lovers, Hidden Relationship, Emotional Angst, Slow Burn, Forced Separation, Public Confession

Genre: Romance, Drama, Angst, Slice of Life

Featuring: ATEEZ members, Jiha’s colleagues, ATINY’s reactions, and an unexpected PR disaster

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . ** . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

Seonghwa

♡ Idol Series Part III: In the Fine Print [Completed]

Prologue | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Epilogue |

Harin lands a job as a publicist at KQ Entertainment, thanks to her friend Hana, but working with idols—especially Seonghwa—proves more challenging than expected. Seonghwa, known for his fleeting romances, is the last person she wants to be drawn to, especially when she’s dealing with the fallout of her own toxic relationship. But as their professional and personal lives collide, unspoken tension and unresolved emotions surface.

Pairing: Park Seonghwa x OC (Harin)

Trope: Idol x Company Staff

Genre: Romance, Angst, Slow Burn, Push & Pull Dynamic

Featuring: ATEEZ (being menaces), Hana & Emilia (From previous stories), OCs

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . ** . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

Yunho

♡ Idol Series Part VI: If We Meet Again [Completed]

Prologue | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Epilogue

Summary: Years after breaking up, Nari and Yunho cross paths again—this time under unexpected circumstances. She had walked away from him to avoid holding him back, convinced he would move on without her. But when their reunion stirs up emotions neither of them have truly let go of, they are forced to confront their past, their fears, and the love that never faded. As they navigate old wounds, unresolved feelings, and the pressures of Yunho’s career, they must decide if love is worth the risk—this time, for good.

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x OC (Nari)

Trope: Exes to Lovers

Genre: Romance, Angst, Slow Burn, Second Chance

Featuring: Ateez, OCs, mutual pining, lost love

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . ** . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

Yeosang

♡ Idol Series Part V: More than a Fan [Ongoing]

Prologue | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Epilogue |

Jiwon, a reserved biotechnology student, never expected her quiet late-night study sessions to include Kang Yeosang—an idol hiding from the world. What starts as an unlikely friendship slowly turns into something deeper. But with secrets, insecurities, and the pressures of fame between them, can they truly belong in each other’s worlds?

Pairing: Kang Yeosang x OC (Jiwon)

Trope: Idol x Fan

Genre: Romance, Slice of Life, Angst, Software & Awkward First Love, Fluff

Featuring: Ateez, OCs, late night walks, Lots of Fluff and Awkwardness

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . ** . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° .

San

♡ Nothing here yet

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . ** . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

Mingi

♡ Idol Series Part I: Accidently Yours [Completed]

Prologue | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen | Epilogue |

What started as an accidental encounter turned into something neither of them saw coming. Emilia never expected that a chaotic night in Frankfurt—where she met Ateez in the most ridiculous outfit imaginable—would lead to months of stolen moments, teasing, heartbreak and feelings too big to ignore.

Pairing: Song Mingi x OC (Emilia)

Trope: Strangers to Lovers

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Light Angst, Slow Burn

Featuring: ATEEZ (being menaces), chaotic sibling energy, found family vibes, and an embarrassing amount of mutual pining

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . ** . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

Wooyoung

♡ Idol Series Part IV: Tease me Twice [Ongoing]

Prologue | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Epilogue |

Summary: What happens when relentless teasing turns into something more? Sophie and Wooyoung have spent years bickering and pushing each other’s buttons, but when feelings get involved, their dynamic shifts in a way one of them definitley didn't expected.

Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x Sophie (OC)

Tropes: Somewhat Enemies- to -Lovers

Genre: RomCom, Drama & Angst, Push-and-Pull Tension, Flirty Banter Turned Romantic, Slow Burn with Explosive Chemistry

Featuring: Ateez, Emilia, Hana, Harin and Noah (Previous Fanfics), OCs

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . ** . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

Jongho

♡ Idol Series Part II: Through the Pages of Us [Completed]

Prologue | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Epilogue |

Hana never expected to see Jongho again. Not after he ghosted her years ago, leaving behind only memories of their childhood friendship and an ache she never quite moved past. Now a successful bookstore owner and author, she’s content with her quiet life—until fate (and her friend Emilia) brings Jongho and his group, Ateez, back into her world.

Pairing: Jongho × Hana (OC)

Tropes: Childhood Friends to Lovers /Second Chances

Genre: Romance, Slice of Life, Light Drama

Featuring: Ateez (as Jongho’s supportive but teasing groupmates), Emilia (from the Idol Series Part I), Atiny, OCs

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . ** . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

Connected Series

♡ The Idol Series

Part I: Accidently Yours [Mingi x Emilia (OC)] Completed

Part II: Through the Pages of Us [Jongho x Hana (OC)] Completed

Part III: In the Fine Print [ Seonghwa x Harin (OC)] Completed

Part IV : Tease me Twice [ Wooyoung x Sophie (OC)] Completed

Part V: More than a Fan [ Yeosang x Jiwon (OC)] Completed

Part VI: If We Meet Again [ Yunho × Nari (OC)] Completed

Part VII: Not Just a Secret [ Hongjoong x Jiha (OC)] WIP

[ts19009]

Seventeen Fic Rec's Part 3

(CONTAINS SMUT AND MATURE SUBJECT MATTER)

(Bold title means favorite)

(UPDATED: September 22nd, 2024)

OT13

seventeen as teachers @fairyhaos

seventeen as dads headcanons @bbyobbyo

Back to School with Seventeen (Seventeen TA Collab! Take a look at our Course Options collated by your favourite writers, taught by your favourite members!) @camandemstudios

Seventeen's reaction to you asking them for a baby @j0shuasw1fey

Tales from Camp Masterlist (Thirteen friends reconnect on a camping trip, reminiscing about their times as camp counselors when they were in college.) @kwanisms

✤ Losing It. (masterpost) ✤ (A series of having virginities given to you. Sometimes they throw said virginity at you with full force, other times, they lovingly hold your hand, bat their lashes, and say some of the dumbest shit you’ve ever heard a man say in regards to getting laid for the first time. ) @ncteez

Kim Mingyu

kmg x reader: healing comes in small doses masterlist (husband! dad! kim mingyu x afab! mom!reader) @tomodachiii

Food Wars pt. 1 (You and Mingyu are rival but friendly chefs competing for a spot to be an executive chef at a new location in Madrid. This position would change your life; no matter how attractive he is, you WILL get that spot) @beomcoups

Crossing the Finish Line (Winning is the only thing that matters, except if you're raising money for a charity event with an infuriatingly good-looking swimmer.) @mr-cha-n

Statistically Speaking... (TA! mingyu, fluff, smut [minors DNI], angst, statistics, ur honour they're stupid for one another, descriptions of stress exhaustion and burnout, academic burden, disagreements, mingyu is smart as hell, shitting on bad professors, smut but its a surprise) @gyuswhore

Always // oneshot (Sometimes, one man's burden is everything another man has ever wished for.) @spamgyu

When I Kissed the Teacher (science teacher mingyu, grammar teacher reader, meddling students, crushes, flirting, lots of candy and coffee) @highvern

Read All About It (Anonymous Life and Sex writer, Not Carrie Bradshaw, takes on a 30-day challenge with her boyfriend, Min. How wild fans would go to find out they're none other than Kim Mingyu and his girlfriend?) @highvern

Hot Wheels [M] (Co-Workers to Lovers, Fluff, Humor, Smut 18+) @milfgyu

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖶𝖺𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖧𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝖧𝗎𝗌𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽 (fake marriage au!, fluff, angst, smut (18+ mdni) @wonustars

There's a snake in my pants (Crack/humour. Some fluff. Established relationship. Himbo Mingyu! [I love himbo Gyu]) @whipped-for-kpop-fics

Cross My Heart (Your crush Mingyu wants (to eat) you.) @minisugakoobies

Like A Cowboy Part 2 of 4 (Mingyu only needs to wake up with you once to decide he'll do whatever is necessary to do it every day; even if it means letting you help him outside and figuring out how to help you inside, it's worth it.) @sluttywoozi

Let our lips lock, baby (Friends to lovers smut. Fluff. They are in LOVE okay. Birthday boy Gyu <3) @whipped-for-kpop-fics

I can do it for you (After years dealing with everything alone, you stumble upon an old wishbook from your past. And you jokingly writes down your ideal boyfriend, Mingyu. To your surprise, Mingyu magically appears in your couch.) @hoshifighting

here and now. (secret!agent!mingyu x secret!agent!reader, established relationship) @writingmeraki

Jeon Wonwoo

into the night | jeon wonwoo (when you call wonwoo late at night telling him you're stranded, he drops everything to make his way to you (and bring you home safe)) @etherealyoungk

CLOSER (f2l!wonwoo, softdom!wonwo) @hannieehaee

HER | part six (m). (wonwoo, a heartbroken and burnt out writer nearing the end of his math degree, wants nothing to do with the seemingly perfect, intimidating girl who has everyone under her thumb. you. unfortunately, his literary talent has got him shoved him between a rock and a hard place when you want to write a book and require his expertise. you two are the furthest from compatible. wonwoo can’t see this going well. at all.) @chocosvt (HOLY SHIT, THIS SERIES HAD ME CRYING. SNAPS TO THIS AMAZING WRITER!)

𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 (though it didn’t bother wonwoo that his girl wasn’t a gamer like him, he was over the moon when one day she proudly declared she started gaming. one thing he forgot to ask - what kind of games she was playing.) @babyleostuff

knight in shining armor (non-idol! wonwoo x f!reader) @heartsfromia

endpoint (Senior year of college is meant to be full of celebration and smooth sailing. Years of work culminating in the final semesters that will send you off into the real world where clubs, sports, and weekends packed with hungover volunteering to pad your resume no longer mattered. It’d be a piece of cake if it wasn’t for your fuck buddy turned coworker having the same plan. But only one of you can get the department’s most coveted recommendation that all but guarantees your acceptance. Tension rises and the nearly four year thing you’ve had with Wonwoo approaches its endpoint.) @highvern

heads up! stardew. they r gaming. @nonranghaes

Cookies and Cream (academic rivals to lovers, smut, heart wrenching and tooth rotting fluff (wonwoo is down bad bad)) @seokgyuu

April Shower (Wonwoo meets a lot of people through his career as a travel photographer. Not one of them has ever made him want to stay in one place, until he met you.) @sluttywoozi

HEAVEN (wonwoo has a reputation for being distant, quiet and a bit mysterious. once you get to know him better, though, you come to find the sweet, shy boy underneath the surface.) @sanakiras

Patterns (Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is a pattern. So what does it mean when you find yourself in Wonwoo's bed over and over again?) @highvern

Daylight (between the endless flirty banter or secret looks of longing, the line between you and your boss had always been slightly blurred. But when a night out with friends has you and your boss meeting for the first time outside of the workplace, that line starts to become nonexistent as mutual feelings are brought to light.) @moonscriptsx

✦ sugar & spice (bodyguard!wonwoo x celebrity!reader) @etherealyoungk

Hong Jisoo

New in the Suburbs – New Neighboor! Joshua @hoshifighting

distracted (husband&dad!joshua, wife&mom!reader, established relationship) @eomayas

SUMMER KISSES (joshua coming home is a pleasant surprise) @arafilez

richhusband!joshua headcannons (just some headcons, but i'm obsessed with them) @number1mingyustan

still the one (5 years after your break up, Joshua tries his best to get your attention. May it be creating a new instagram to get you to notice him, making your brother (Seungkwan) secretly invite him to his birthday party, and his latest act: begging you on his knees in front of your door to get him back. He just never gives up!) @bratzkoo

city lights series | joshua hong (M) [ongoing] (rock singer joshua, neighbours with benefits) @hannieween

best friend’s brother (This had me crying ugly tears. its my fav) (imestep, romance, angsty angst, major feels abt having a crush, lots of flirting, smut, drama, happy tears.) @chocosvt

not according to plan | hjs (fake dating, strangers to friends to ?? | fluff, slight angst, smut) @the-boy-meets-evil

Expiration Date (2/2) (artist!joshua x model!fem!reader) @number1mingyustan

Birds of a Feather ( joshua hong x f reader) @onlymingyus

Timestamp! Aquamarine Au! @mysafehaneul

on second thought (where your roommate, wonwoo, has an interesting solution to all your bad dates. nothing can go wrong with two friends crossing a line, can it?) @the-boy-meets-evil

Yoon Jeonghan

BITE (idol!jeonghan x hybeidol!reader, f2l, meet-cute, very unrealistic schedules for idols lol, jeonghan is a menace, a lot of will they wont they, reader plays hard to get, afab reader, small age gap implied, one mention of the word oppa as a honorific (sorry</3), reader is mentioned to be international (no specific race, just not born in korea), smut, dry humping, penetrative sex, etc.) @hannieehaee

building blocks | yjh (agreeing to be the teaching assistant is the last thing you want in a semester where you're already swamped with work. but, you need a letter of recommendation from the professor and you're out of other options. enter jeonghan, the menace who signs up for the class seemingly on a whim and disrupts your entire routine.) @the-boy-meets-evil (OBSESSED WITH THESE TA SERIES)

"lovie" (all the ways jeonghan uses your nickname) @cherryredcheol

Titty-Shirt! (18+) (pervert!rollercoaster operator!jeonghan x bigtiddie!fem!reader) @beefboyandbabygirl

love café (while you’ve spent the last few months pretending the love café doesn’t exist, you realize you need its services now more than ever. this brings you face to face with jeonghan, the son of a luxury fashion designer who’s got money to burn. your exchanges are strictly business. until they’re not) @chocosvt

five ways to say "i love you" - jeonghan (how jeonghan shows his love to you, through all five love languages) @p0ckykiss

Xu Minghao

Meet Me In Amsterdam (Artist!Minghao x Artist!Fem!Reader) @okiedokrie

GOODNIGHT N GO (idol!minghao x hybeidol!reader) @hannieehaee

To all the love letters I wrote but never sent (fluff, best friends to lovers) @welcometomyoasis

Birthday Gift l Xu Minghao (It's your birthday and Minghao wants to give you your present!) @jenoslutie

Lee Seokmin

through a different lens — l.sm (meet cute, strangers to something) @miniseokminnies

after dessert (just pure smut lol, but it was good XD) @xurengu0

behind the stands (Seokmin, Gryffindor's star chaser, is widely known as your rival. What everyone doesn't know is that before every game, his lips are always on yours.) @xurengu0

Beautiful Liar (mafia au, dark romance? angst, smut.) @starlightx

Epistolary Yearning (epistolary form, historical fantasy, romance | smut) @himbocoups

Nice Guys Finish First (After a first date with the sweetest man you've ever met, thanks to a mutual friend, you're more than willing to silence his doubts and show him how sexy he was to you.) @celestiababie

midnight rain | lsm (after seven years away, you finally return home. meeting seokmin again wasn't in your plans, but life wasn't willing to let you have it your way.) @wongyuuu

[oscquinn]

Smoke & Mirrors || Lip Gallagher

chapter one of BORDERLINE.

pairing: lip gallagher x fem!reader (nickname: MK)

warnings & tags: the start of a SLOWburn. idiots with tension. mature for mentions of violence, smoking, swearing, canon typical dialogue and whatnot. y'all've seen the show!

chapter summary: lip gallagher has been your best friend since before you could remember. he's the smartest person you know, so it astounds you how someone like him can be oh so stupid. you're committed to investing in his future, even if he isn't. you won't let your best friend end up stuck on the southside.

a/n: ummmm hi!! wrote basically this whole thing in the last 24hrs. it's unedited and tbh if i look at it for one more second im gonna explode!! enjoy <33

wc: 2.9k

The crisp October air sends a chill down your spine as you usher your younger sister Caroline out the door for school. She groans and rolls her eyes when you grab her by the handle of her backpack, pulling her back to adjust her scarf. At a mere thirteen years old she already carries the same attitude you did at sixteen. “Whatever you’re gonna say, I don’t wanna hear it. You were just sick, dad’ll have my head on a platter if I don’t make you bundle up.”

She stomps her foot, a stupid, childish action that has you mentally swearing to never have kids of your own. Helping raise this one was enough as it is. “It’s not even-” she starts, but you cut her off.

“I said I don’t wanna hear it. Wear your fucking scarf or I’m telling mom you make that tutor kid do your math homework.” You shove her head gently after securing the scarf around her neck and let her stomp down the stairs. “Don’t be a brat.”

She doesn’t answer, instead starting down the street towards the bus stop. Cigarette smoke wafts over the morning air from the Gallagher house. You turn to see Lip on the front stoop, blood shining on his brow as he smokes. You feel a twist in your gut. What did he get himself into this time, you think. The repetitive motion of locking the door comes like second nature and you spend the thirty odd seconds it takes worrying about the boy across the street.

When you turn towards the Gallagher house Caroline is already ahead of you, not waiting until she passes the chain-link fence to call out, “what happened to your face?”

You catch up in time to hear him scoff, “good morning to you too, Kit-Kat,” pulling out her childhood nickname, the one she still hates, that he gave to her when she was barely four. “‘S nothing. Battle scars an’ shit.”

“What the fuck kinda battle did’ya get yourself into?” you ask, leaning down to take his chin between your thumb and forefinger. The cut isn’t too bad, a lot of blood for a relatively small abrasion, but the skin around his eye is already blossoming a dark bruise. Lip stares at you as if to say ‘not in front of the kid,’ and you nod, fishing a five dollar bill out of your pocket. You were saving it for work, but Caroline’s silence is worth more. She raises an eyebrow, to which you snap, “just don’t tell mom, ‘kay? And don’t skip just ‘cause I'm skipping.”

Caroline turns to leave and you extend a hand to Lip, pulling him to stand. Eager fingers reach for his burnt-down cig when he goes to drop it, taking the final hit for yourself before stubbing it out on the sidewalk. “Greedy. Gotta buy y’own pack,” he remarks with a smirk. All it takes is a second to get back across the stress, and once you’re inside he unwraps the scarf from his neck. 

Your eyes catch on his bruised knuckles and you tilt your head to the side with a silent question, you gonna tell me what happened? He sighs, hearing you loud and clear despite not speaking a single word. “Got into it with Frank. He was givin’ Ian shit for no fuckin’ reason.”

“Mm,” you nod, and catch his hand after he runs it nervously through his curls. The bruises there aren’t as bad as the one on his eye, Frank must’ve only gotten one good, drunken swing in. No cuts either, which was good. For all his tough guy exterior, Lip Gallagher couldn’t stand the sting of peroxide. The less you need the better, you think, and a grin plays at your lips when you glance up at him, holding his injured hand up. “Think y’can roll a joint with these?”

His laugh is like music to your ears, revelling in the first grin you’ve seen from him this morning. “Yeah, yeah I can do that, y’wanna jus’ skip the whole day? We could catch a movie ‘r somethin’,” he suggests, following you upstairs to your room.

You shake your head, opening the door to your room for him. “Can't. Calc test in third period. Sit down, ‘m gonna get the first aid kit.” While you get the kit from the shelf in your closet you hear him open your desk drawer, pulling out the grinder and weed jar you keep hidden at the back.

“You got a shirt or somethin’ I could change into? This one smells like Frank’s fuckin’ booze,” Lip scoffs. He shrugs the tee over his head and lights another cigarette, his eyes following your every move with that same boyish twinkle you’d grown fond of over the years. It was always good to remember things weren’t getting to him, not too bad. 

You cast a glare in his direction, silently scolding him, ‘you know better, let me open the window,’ but he only grins in response. Pale morning light illuminates the room when you pull back your blackout curtains and crack the window. The city is still quiet–or, as quiet as it gets in Chicago–and the sounds of gentle wind and birdsong fall softly on your ears.

You settle at his side, first aid kit in one hand and a gray and black sweater of his in the other. Curious fingers reach for a small cut on his shoulder. “What’s this one from?” You trace the gash. It isn’t deep either, but it’ll need to be cleaned so it doesn’t get infected.

“It’s, uh, ’s nothin,” he brushes you off, to which you shoot him a glare. That sets him straight. In a low mumble he simply states, “beer bottle.”

Rage seethes inside you, your jaw tensing as you wet a cotton ball with peroxide. You keep any comments to yourself, not sure how LIp will react. You’re aware of his more than complicated familial relationships–you’d grown up with thim, seeing Frank’s drinking get worse, and the aftermath of Monica leaving–but if there was one constant with the Gallagher kids, it was family first, above everything. You had your opinions of Frank, and you knew Lip shared your distaste more than anything, but that didn’t take away the sensitive nature of the topic. So, you stay quiet, dabbing at the wound with a gentle hand. The sting draws a sharp hiss from him, and it’s then that you realize how flushed he is, his cheeks, neck and chest are a soft pink color. Graciously, you pretend not to notice, so as not to embarrass him further.

When the cut is cleaned and covered with a bandage Lip takes his sweater, pulling it over his head. It leaves his hair mussed and he smoothes a hand through his curls while you tilt his chin up, inspecting the cut on his brow. Blue eyes stare up at you with a vulnerability you’re not used to seeing from the boy you grew up with. At least you know he’s comfortable with you. That’s all.

Comfortable. Friendly. Nothing more. The same as it’s always been.

The way it’s meant to be.

“Quit starin’, get me fixed up so we can smoke this,” Lip grumbles, gesturing towards the rolling tray in his lap. You laugh at that, heart quickening in your chest. Tensions between the two of you had been thick as of late, but underneath it all things remained the same.

“Glad to know you’ve got your priorities straight,” you snort, cleaning up the second wound with peroxide. He takes it better this time, more prepared for the sting, but you still catch the way a few pained tears brim in his bright eyes. 

Soft, parted lips rest under your fingers as you clean the final abrasion. The bruising is the worst here, deep purple hues present across his mouth and down to his chin. He finishes rolling as you’re wiping at the blood that pooled below his lip, a deep red trail spilling down his chin. Your delicate motions are interrupted by Lip bringing the joint up to seal it, licking along the edge of the rolling paper. 

“‘M almost finished, be patient,” you murmur, focused on keeping the disinfectant out of his mouth. A moment later you pull back, swiping vaseline over the split before wiping the excess on his jeans. Payback for interrupting your tending to his wounds. “There. All patched up. Say ‘thank you nurse,’” you tease with a grin.

He’s already flicking the lighter on, holding the flame against the end of the joint to take the first hit for himself. You busy yourself with cleaning up the first aid supplies until he passes it off to you. Thick, earthy smelling smoke flows from his parted mouth, which lifts into a mischievous grin as he hands you the joint. “My lip’s busted up pretty fuckin’ bad. Think y’could kiss it better?”

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment at his blunt proposal. “Shut up,” you retort with a sharp laugh, before you can even consider it.

Lip throws on an exaggerated frown, “oh, c’mon MK. You know it’d be so fucking hot- ow!” He flinches, chest shaking with laughter as you throw your remote at him. “Okay! Okay, I know I know. You’re not one of my g-”

“Little ghetto girlfriends,” you tease, repeating the drunken dig an alibi patron had once thrown at Lip. 

“Exactly.”

You shake your head, laughing at him for a moment. “You’re never getting in my pants Gallagher. I’ve known you since we were three. It’s wrong,” you lie. Lip is your best friend, the same role he’s filled your entire life, side by side since the two of you were in diapers. But your rejection stems from something deeper than that.

Lip Gallagher is inconsistent. You can’t exactly call him unfaithful if he never truly commits to one girl, but he’s not one for relationships. He’s flighty. He runs from affection. More often than not he buries his true feelings under snark and insults, weed, booze, and–when all else fails–aggression. That doesn’t mean you didn’t love him, it doesn’t mean you had no feelings for him, it just gives you reason to brush off his advances. For now, it can remain a little game between the two of you.

Months ago, when these unwanted feelings began to blossom in your chest, you’d promised yourself you wouldn’t be just another girl he messed around with. You aren’t willing to let him mess this thing up for the both of you.

Eager to change the subject you move to your desk, pulling out an informational packet from MIT. Before you can get a word out Lip is shaking his head, casting a skeptical glare in your direction. “Hey, come on. I just want you to apply.” You lean to hand the packet over but he reaches for the joint instead, which you pull away quickly.

“No you come on, why would I apply to MIT, seriously,” he shoots back, refusing to take the folder from your hand. He settles more comfortably in your bed, laying back against the pillows and staring up at the ceiling instead of meeting your eyes. “Bunch ‘f ivy league reject pricks ridin’ on daddy’s money. You’re lucky I’m even applying to schools in town.” Greedy hands reach forward for the joint again and you yield with a sigh, passing it over. As an afterthought, you toss the packet to him as well.

“Just consider it, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll think about it,” he says. You don’t need anything but the way he avoids your eyes to know it’s a lie. 

You purse your lips, throwing an icy stare his way. Lip Gallagher may be your best friend, but you’re not going to take any of his shit. “Have you even got any applications in?”

The question seems to take him by surprise, tendrils of smoke curling from the corner of his parted lips. “I’ve got a few,” another lie.

“Really? What schools,” you question, head tilted to the side with a knowing look. “Don’t lie to me, I know you better than anyone. I can tell.”

He laughs at that, shaking his head in disbelief. “Fine, you got me. I haven’t applied anywhere yet.” The end of the joint has a good stretch of ash, which he’s trying to keep precariously attached while he takes another hit. 

“Scoot,” you mumble, grabbing your own binder of college information packets. He stretches one arm back towards your desk to snag your heart shaped ashtray and knocks the ash off, then lays the tray in the space between your bodies. You settle in beside him, your knees propped comfortably over the throw pillow that always ended up in the middle of your bed. One hand takes the joint and the other opens your binder. 

Pages upon pages of information, campus maps, scholarship pamphlets, and your hand written tuition calculations make Lip go a little cross eyed as you flip towards a page with a yellow tab. “Okay. Here, look,” you point at the information you’d circled, reading Engineering B.S., training the Innovators of Tomorrow. “UI Urbana-Champaign. Great engineering program–” you flip the page over “–and scholarships for kids from underserved communities.”

You settle the joint between your lips, flipping through a few more pages. After a deep inhale you use it to gesture towards the page. “Or UChicago, that way you’d be close to home. They’ve got this thing called inner city promise. Smart kids, like you, from certain high schools with certain academic records and test scores can get full rides.” You run a finger down the short list, stopping at a familiar name and tapping it. “See? Lincoln Grove High School. You’d qualify, Lip.”

“‘M not some fuckin’ charity case,” he grumbles, snatching the burnt-down joint from your hand. “You’re a pain in my ass, y’know that?”

“Oh I’m a pain?” you snap, turning on your side to glare at him. “For what, believing in you? For not taking any of your self-deprecating, avoidant bullshit?”

He shrugs then, and the action is almost shy. He’s embarrassed. You have this innate ability to see him, the way no one else does. You scare yourself with it sometimes. “Just don’t know why you care so much,” he mumbles.

The sigh that leaves you is a deep, tired one. Convincing him of these things has always been difficult. For as smart as he is, Lip can be so infuriatingly stupid. “You’re smart, Lip. You’ve always been smart. I dunno what I would do if I went off to college and you stayed here. In this shithole.”

He doesn’t laugh the way you expect him to. He doesn’t brush it off. He just stares.

“We made a pact, did you forget?” you continue. He shakes his head silently, the far off look in his eyes letting you know he’s remembering that day. 

The day the two of you spent drinking by the pool. Making promises to each other. You’d said you would make it out, and you would do it together. You’d made Lip promise you that he’d give it a try, and stupidly you believed him. Or was it stupid? You’re not ready to give up yet. 

“I don’t want to do it without you,” you admit to him.

Lip looks at you, his blue eyes softening. “Do what without me?” You shake your head, scooting closer to rest your head on his shoulder. He stubs out the joint and wraps an arm around your shoulders. Friendly, comfortable affection. The kind you were used to. “C’mon MK, spit it out.”

“Any of it,” you return. “Don’t think I could get through another four years of school if you’re not doing it with me.”

“Yeah? What if we’re at different schools, dumbass,” he retorts, but his palm soothes across your arm, a contrast to his words. “You gonna follow me to MIT, since y’want me to go so bad?”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up in your chest, turning to look up at him with a grin playing at your lips. He got what he wanted. He made you laugh. “I’ll call you every night.”

“Every night huh?” he says with a smirk. “Cockblocking me from a thousand miles away is just like you, isn’t it.”

You shove him playfully, sitting up to move the ashtray off your bed. The MIT packet lays somewhere at the foot of the bed and you search through the pillows to find it. Instead of handing it to Lip, you just tuck it into his backpack, handing the bag to him after. “Well yeah, can’t have you getting distracted by the chess team girls,” you joke back. 

He lays there in your bed, looking up at you with that stupid grin of his. All bared teeth and mischief, the same one you’d seen all those years ago. You stay silent for a moment longer before you stand, holding out a hand to pull him up. 

“You sure we can’t just skip?”

“No, ‘ve got a test, remember? Gotta keep my grades up if ‘m gonna follow you all the way to MIT,” you say, and shakes his head with a laugh. Maybe he’s coming around to the idea. “Come on, I’ll drive us.”

thanks so much for reading!! series masterlist here.

got something to say? stop by my inbox! looking for more fics? check out my masterlists!

[literaila]

stay

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you're in denial (no you're not)

warnings: pining, no plot

a/n: i had to give you a little look at what they do when they're alone

last part | next part

*

year two.

“what?” satoru asks, his voice blurred in the haze you're thinking in. 

honestly, you haven't been looking at him for that long. 

you've only been watching his arms as they move across the sink, veins drenched in water, hands scrubbing at a pot that you've made his responsibility. 

you've only been thinking about him for the past five years. the way his mouth moves when he's focused, the subtle curve of his jaw from this angle. 

and you're only staring now because you don't want him to mess up the kitchen. god knows how much it's worth. 

you shake your head, subtle grin disappearing automatically. “hmm?” 

“you’re staring at me.” 

you blink. “oh. sorry.” 

you and him both know that there's no denying it. 

“and you think i’m spacey,” satoru mutters, turning to you with his arms crossed, a smirk adorning his lips. apparently, he’s perfected his dad stance. “what do you want?” 

“what?" you look away, for one moment, when your heart feels a bit warm, then back to him. "why would i want something?” 

“that’s what tsumiki does when she wants something.” 

“well, unlike tsumiki, i’m not a child, so…” 

“i beg to differ,” satoru leans towards you, raising a brow. “what are you? thirteen?” 

he's different like this--when he knows that you're paying attention. 

so ridiculously stupid that you can't look away from him. 

“you are a single year older,” you tell him, “and i had to teach you how to do the dishes. our age gap is easily filled by my years of experience—“ 

“blah blah blah,” satoru interrupts, rolling his eyes, “hard work, torture, bills to pay. we get it.” 

you shrug, lip twitching. “you started it.” 

“by being born?” satoru asks, fluttering his eyelashes, trying his hand at flirting with you. 

unfortunately, he's dreadful at it. even with his waggling eyebrows and throat when he swallows. 

“oh my god,” you put a hand to your chest, mock shocked. “did i forget to become clan head the second i was born? my bad.” 

“seriously. slacker.” 

you roll your eyes.

then you turn to the counter again, messing with a stack of bills satoru has left there. you're probably going to be the one to deal with them anyway. 

it's been twenty minutes since you put the kids to bed--frowning at satoru when he swore that they'd already brushed their teeth (they hadn't)--and you've already lost sight of getting out of his house. 

some small part of you wants to stay, just so you can sneak some more glances at satoru.

“why are you staring at me?” he asks, nudging your arm with his hand. "get lost in my eyes?" 

you scoff. “i just zoned out, satoru.” 

“looking right at my face?” 

you smile deviously, reaching a hand out to trail a finger across his cupids bow. “i was contemplating the different plastic surgeries that could improve you.” 

satoru does nothing to push away your hand, but you snap it away when you feel him shiver. 

“please," he frowns. "we both know there’s no room for improvement.” 

you raise your brows. he says it more like a question than a statement, so you keep the same teasing smile on your face. 

“don’t be mean,” he says, pouting. 

“sorry.” 

“no, you’re not.” 

your smile brightens and you walk towards the door--listening to his heavy footsteps as he follows--and reach towards the hook for your coat.

you better leave before he convinces you to touch him again with nothing but his eyes.

“where are you going?” satoru continues pouting. 

“home? the kids are asleep.” 

he huffs. “but i’m not.” 

“do you need me to tuck you in?” 

“what if i do?” 

“tough luck, satoru," you shove his hand away from where it grabs your jacket. 

“c’mon,” he says, pulling at your wrist instead. “stay a little bit longer. let’s talk.” 

“all you ever want to talk about is digimon," you answer, rolling your eyes. 

you deny the fact that you'd probably listen to him talk about anything, just to hear the slight drawl in his throat or the teasing in his voice. 

“well, duh.” 

“and i don’t understand a single thing you say.” 

satoru pulls you towards him, even when you dig your heels into the floor. “you think after five years you’d trust me enough to take one of my recommendations," he says, chiding you. like he's the most trustworthy person you've ever met. 

like you might trust him with your life (you would). 

“last time i trusted any of your recommendations i almost got kicked out of school," you finally pull away, smoothing out your sleeves to put your jacket on. 

“first of all, that was your idea—“ 

“i was kidding.” 

“and i was just trying to cheer you up," his hands gesture to you, obviously, "plus yaga didn’t even care that much. it’s not like we crashed the car. he just had to threaten us or he would’ve gotten fired.”

you roll your eyes, zipping up your jacket. 

“stay,” satoru whines. “i get lonely when you’re not here.” 

“that’s because you’re supposed to be asleep.” 

“i can't sleep without you.” 

you scoff. “we’ve slept in the same room twice.” 

neither one of you dares to mention the several nights you’ve spent together on the couch or the brief moments when you wake up in the morning and realize who you’re clinging to. those are brief lapses in judgment. nothing more. 

“third times the charm,” satoru says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. 

despite his age, he is still a teenage boy. 

the same one you've liked since you were fifteen. 

“goodnight, satoru," you whisper, turning around. 

“don’t you get lonely in your apartment all alone?” he asks, almost pleading, spinning you around again from the hem of your jacket. “what if you have a nightmare?” 

because satoru has ever been concerned about a single thing that happens to you. 

you roll your eyes. “i wake up, like an adult, and remember that it’s not real.” 

satoru raises a brow. 

“seriously, it’s late. i need to go before—“ 

“stay.” 

“we’ve talked about this.”

“no. i make a suggestion, and you don’t listen.” 

“because i already know what you’re going to say.” 

“no, you don’t.” 

“‘c’mon, y/n, i have a bedroom just for you. it can even be mine if you want.’” 

“i don’t sound like that," he says frowning. though how could he deny the obvious?

“satoru, we need space--" more like you need space from him. several decades of space, just to catch your breath. "i can't spend every waking moment with you. i have a life.” 

“yeah, me.” 

you laugh, shaking your head (he's not wrong).

“just for tonight?” 

“no.” 

“just for an hour? what if one of them wakes up? you know i don’t know what to do," he says, very convincingly. his voice is quiet like he knows some sudden movements will scare you away. 

you pretend to pause, humming. “send them back to their rooms…?”

“please," he begs you, so close that his breath is almost yours. 

“no.” 

“we never get alone time anymore,” he pouts, “i miss you.” 

you know that he's using this to his advantage. like he's sure that his quiet voice and soft mouth will get you to break, will get you to stay here like you already want to. 

but you refuse. 

“stop.” 

“and it’s cold. you don’t want to go home yet," he acts like he can read your mind. 

“i promise you that i do," you reassure him, taking a step back. satoru only follows. 

“we can watch a movie or something," he answers like you've already agreed to this. "i saw a trailer for this dumb comedy and it looks—“ 

you groan. 

“what if i promise to sit on the other side of the couch?” he bargains.

“no," you frown, "you’re a liar.” 

“what if i let you pick the movie?” 

“no.” 

“what if i pay you to stay?" 

you flick his forehead. “are you kidding?” 

“please,” he repeats, softly, leaning even closer. “you don’t have to stay for long…” 

and it reminds you of every other time you've felt like your heart has disappeared. like your head has been eradicated by his low voice and his sparkling eyes. 

it feels like being the same teenager you might still be, hoping that something will come from his pleading. from yours, however unspoken. 

and you almost break, almost push him so far away--

but then there’s a tiny cough. and a sniffle. “y/n?” a voice asks, so soft you almost can't hear it over the sound of satoru’s ego. 

over the sound of your own beating heart. 

satoru smiles like he planned this all along. 

you sigh. “an hour,” you tell him, sternly. 

he only smiles, slinging an arm around your shoulder, spinning you both towards tsumiki. 

* 

you don’t say a thing when you wake up the next morning, sweat staining your neck, legs tangled in much longer ones. 

your head is pounding from a night spent on the couch. from so many hours spent laughing at satoru, at the stupid things he says. 

and he’s already looking at you like he could sense this moment coming. 

like he can see beyond you, into your soul. into the very wanting you're sure is on your face. 

you don’t say anything as you stare back into his eyes.

this is the one moment where he’s not allowed to comment on it. to make fun of you for your small smile, or laugh at your bed head. 

this moment is just for the two of you. the rest of the world can disappear, right now. every terrifying thing, every horrible mistake, completely eradicated by the sound of satoru's heart, his eyelashes as they flutter open and closed. 

you breathe in, almost about to say something. to break this thing before it can form. 

and then you hear something banging in the kitchen, and it’s time to get up. 

*

next part | series masterlist

[bugflies00]

something about cwilbur that i find really interesting but i think could be explored more in fics is that, realistically, after thirteen years of sensory deprivation where he had no bodily needs and felt nothing besides "cold", basic physical sensations would be utterly foreign to him when he's revived.

it wouldn't just be sensory overload from the sights and sounds and smells and light of the overworld; it means he would have to relearn to identify and interpret basic physical sensations.

if we're going off the basis that limbo is somewhere where your body requires nothing at all and cannot be hurt or modified (which is the position ive seen most people adopt, but of course you could just assume cwilbur was in a state of perpetual hunger cramps thirst exhaustion etc, tantalus style), then having to relearn having a body and taking care of it would be a very arduous process, more than i think is depicted in fics.

i think a large reason for that is, like others have said, for cwilbur to be an interesting character minecraft rp wise, he needs to be able to be interacted with; and so a degree of non-realism is necessary in regards to the absolutely horrific state he would realistically be in after going through limbo.

but i still think it's worth exploring cwilbur not just be absolutely starving for attention and interaction (let alone affection), but also completely lost in the world he's found himself back in again.

i mean relearning to eat, to sleep, to recognise when he's cold and warm and thirsty? those are hard. especially for someone who already had a tendency to ignore those needs when he was alive, out of general lack of self-care, then learning to be so much as a functional person would be tremendously hard

[donnalawliet]

Some people have claimed that Klaus being dead when thirteen year old Five finds him in the apocalypse is a plot hole, since he‘s confirmed to be immortal. I actually don‘t think so.

While coming back to life for him is partly instinct, it‘s also a decision. He asks God “Where do I have to go to get back?“ and when he trains with Reginald later on, he gets faster, so it must be something he doesn‘t do purely automatically. After the world gets kugelblitzed, he also chooses to remain with Luther in the afterlife for a bit, meaning he isn‘t forced to come back.

So tell me- After Viktor destroyed the world, every human was eradicated and almost his entire family stayed in the afterlife with him…

What would Klaus find on Earth to be worth living for again?

Exactly. Nothing. So he chooses to stay dead.

[devildomwriter]

I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Clause | Diavolo x Reader

900+ words | GN reader | warnings: Diavolo and reader have a child

The towering pine tree shone brightly in the ballroom of the castle. Barbatos had given in this year to Diavolo’s pleas for an unreasonably large Christmas tree and now you both got to enjoy it reflecting the ornaments across the room.

“I told him it was worth it,” Diavolo, dressed as Santa, grinned proudly. Barbatos sighed and brought in the last stack of gifts you’d prepared for everyone.

“This is all of the gifts. Are you certain you won’t be needing my services anymore tonight, Young lord?” Barbatos asked Diavolo with a worried frown.

“Yes, ___ and I can handle the rest. You like organizing the gifts right?” Diavolo double-checked with you and you nodded enthusiastically.

Diavolo chuckled and Barbatos bowed and made a swift exit, ready to turn in for the night.

“Okay, so they’re in different wrapping paper for different people right?” Diavolo asked and you nodded and began sorting them.

“Where’s Luci’s pile?”

“The dark blue ones with peacock feathers.”

Diavolo started laughing and began to guess the others. “Golden ones for Mammon, Ruri-Chan for Levi, Christmas Cats for Satan….let’s see, the pink ones with kiss lip stains must be Asmo’s. Where did you find such perfect paper?” He asked as he looked everything over.

“The internet.”

“Yes that would make sense…no food ones for Beel?”

“Not all his stuff is food and we don’t want him eating it. The perishables are in the walk-in freezer.”

Diavolo nodded, agreeing with your choice. “So…his paper must be Devilcat? Wise decision! He truly loves that mascot, doesn’t he? And Belphie here must be the clouds, right?” He continued talking to himself as he delighted in the choices of wrapping paper.

He burst into laughter as you handed him one of Luke’s gifts, wrapped in chihuahuas of course.

“Thirteen is the octopus one, Solomon is the magic wands, Raphael is the music notes, Simeon is the quills, Mephistopheles is the My Little Pony—“

“Bahahahahahaha,” Diavolo burst into laughter strong enough that tears streamed down his cheeks.

“Lastly, Barbatos is the British tea set paper, mine is the royal cats, yours are the cutesy animals, and—“

You reached for a gift simultaneously, touching hands. You smiled and took the gift and placed it in the nicest pile. “And these, are Chao’s.”

Diavolo smiled and pulled you into his chest as you sat on the large tree skirt.

“He’s gonna love them,” Diavolo smiled and kissed your forehead.

“It’ll be hard to top Barbatos, I don’t know how he does it,” you sighed. Chao may be yours and Diavolo’s son but every year Barbatos seemed to outshine the two of you gift-wise.

“Barbatos is still hiding his gifts in his room for Christmas morning,” Diavolo shook his head. “He really won’t give us a chance to outdo him, will he?”

You shook your head in agreement, “he’s currying favor already,” you joked and Diavolo laughed and kissed the back of your neck.

You eyed Diavolo up and down, letting your eyes linger long enough for him to notice and he grinned playfully.

“Done delivering gifts for the night?” You asked him sweetly and he nodded, got to his feet, and pulled you up with him.

“There’s just one more thing I want to do for the very special person at the top of my nice list,” he whispered into your ear. “Can you guess what that is?”

You blushed and nodded, “I think I can.”

Diavolo leaned in to kiss you when you both heard an ornament jingle and fall to the floor. Diavolo turned around to investigate and you followed but saw nothing.

Diavolo smirked and chuckled. “I think someone’s being naughty, should we go and see?” He asked and you shook your head.

“No, I’d rather have Santa to myself right now,” you teased and he nodded eagerly as you both left to your room.

Meanwhile, Barbatos, settling into bed was disturbed by the tapping of quick footsteps and loud banging on his door. He sighed, slipped on his shoes, and opened the door to see Chao looking frantic. His eyes shone like his mother’s and his hair was red and messy like his father’s.

“Oh my, whatever are you doing up at this hour Young prince?” Barbatos asked, feigning concern.

“Out there! Out there! It’s Mommy,” he sputtered in between gasps. Barbatos picked up Chao and prepared to investigate when Chao revealed his secret, “Mommy was kissing Santa! I saw it! We have to tell Daddy!”

Barbatos stopped in his tracks and started laughing. “Oh my, is that what happened? Don’t worry, I’m sure Daddy doesn’t mind a greeting kiss.”

Chao looked even more concerned, “Does Daddy like that kind of stuff?”

Barbatos’s eye twitched. “Whatever could you mean by that…”

“Uncle Asmo said—“ Barbatos covered Chao’s mouth.

“Listen to me Chao, this is very important.” Chao nodded, hand still over his mouth. “We will never ever listen to anything Uncle Asmo tells us. Understood?” Chao nodded again. “And if Uncle Asmo tells you anything weird, come tell me, okay?”

Chao nodded again and Barbatos took his hand away. “Now then, why don’t we get you back to bed, we have a busy day tomorrow, six of your uncles will be here for their gifts from you and we want you looking your best.”

“Don’t you mean seven uncles?”

“No, I meant six. Now let’s tuck you into bed little one. it’s nearly Christmas Day.”