#this is not one or three sentences what the heck

[9haharharley1]

[Hi hello its Ectoplasmicsodaaaaa]

Okay but that accidental first kiss prompt for pompep or blackice would be CHEF KISS

Pompep it is!

---

Attending a college Halloween party hadn't been a bad idea at the time. With the exception of that one terrible time his freshman year, Danny had never been to a real party. He wasn't sure if this one even really counted since it was hosted by the college and not some random student ready to get all the co-eds drunk.

Maybe that was why he decided to go.

It felt awkward to go without Sam and Tucker there to back him up, what with his best friends being split all over the country. He didn't even have Jazz to call and come save him if he decided he wasn't having fun, but on the plus side, his dorm was just out the door and around the corner, so really what had been the harm?

Danny pulled up his big boy pants, whipped up a quick costume, and was out the door.

It wasn't much to look at - just some black pants with a cotton ball pinned to the back to mimic a tail, a V-neck long sleeve shirt, and a black and white half-mask that exposed the lower have of his face from the nose down, molded in the shape of a goat's head, with two horns jutting out the sides. He had arranged his hair to tastefully fall in front of the mask, and when he looked in the mirror he didn't hate what he saw. So with a shrug and a steadying breath, Danny attended his first college party.

It was set up in the dining hall, the doors flung open to let attendees roam in and out to enjoy the nice weather - shockingly not too cold this time of year; not that cold weather bothered Danny at all these days. The punch had already been spiked, there were couples making out in the dark corners of the building. Snacks and finger foods had been set up around the punch bowl, and there was a food truck loitering outside next to a snow-cone truck. He could smell weed in the air and briefly entertained the idea of attaining some for himself as he bought a snow-cone.

He was interrupted from this thought by a warmth at his side.

"Enjoying the party?" came a smooth voice over his shoulder, and Danny jumped, whipping his head around to see a man standing barely a foot away. He was taller than Danny, dressed in all black, with a ram's head mask of black and glitter covering his face, the horns curling over silver hair. His goatee and pale skin stood put against so much black.

He cut a handsome figure in the dark.

Danny just shrugged at him. "I guess?" he said, taking a bite of his snowcone. "I just got here."

"Not a party person then?"

"Not really," Danny admitted. He took a seat on the nearby bench, surprised to see the man follow him and take a seat as well. "I've never really fit in enough for parties."

The man hummed. "I wouldn't say it's much of a party anyway. Have you tried the punch yet? Somone decided it would be a good idea to spike it with cheap vodka." His lips twisted into a grimace.

Danny laughed. "We're all broke college students, what did you expect?"

"I expected one of you to at least spring for Tito's," the man grumbled. Danny laughed again, but mulled over the man's words.

"So you're not a student here, are you?" he asked. He took another bite of his flavored ice.

"I use to be," he answered. "Now I'm just a... dedicated alumni." He looked down at Danny, a respectful foot away, but radiating enough heat that he may as well be sitting closer. Danny shivered. "And you? You're a student, correct?"

"Yeah." Danny nodded. The man's eyes were a deep blue, dark as the night around them. Danny could get lost in those eyes if he wasn't careful.

"What's your major?" The man's voice was so charming and silky, Danny almost felt bad for how he blushed over it.

"Oh! Uh... physics and astronomy."

"A fellow scientist, then." The man's lips curled into a small smirk, and Danny may have felt his heart skip a beat. Why was this guy talking to him?! He could be chatting up literally anyone on campus, age be damned, and take them home no questions asked! Why was he choosing to talk to Danny? "A man after my own heart."

Danny's breath came out in a shaky exhale.

He lowered his snowcone, bringing one leg up under him as he turned to face this handsome stranger. His eyes narrowed behind his mask. "Okay, Mr. Darcy. Are you flirting with me?"

The man's smirk widened further, half-turning to Danny with an arm thrown over the back of the bench, a leg coming up to cross over the other. His other hand fell to his lap as he leaned in closer.

"Depends," he said, and Danny's cheeks felt like they were on fire, "is it working?"

"Considering I wouldn't call it very good flirting," Danny muttered back, glancing away, "...yeah. It is."

The hand on the back of the bench rose, warm fingers grazing Danny's chin. "Then maybe you'll let me see your face." There was heat in dark eye, and Danny felt caught in their flames. "I'm sure those pretty eyes are even prettier without the mask."

Even as desire and heat settled in Danny's belly, Danny couldn't help but smirk, only slightly rueful. "Nah." He pulled his head away from the hot touch. "I'm not that much of a looker." He stood with his snowcone, brushing off the seat of his pants. "Maybe go find another co-ed to schmooze. I'm sure someone here is up to your standards."

Danny didn't see the way blue eyes darkened, didn't see how the man scowled at the self-deprecating words. He took a step away, fully intending on tossing his remaining flavored ice and heading back to his dorm. He wasn't in the mood to flirt with handsome older gentlemen who only wanted one night and never again.

He took a step away, but a near burning hand on his wrist stopped him back.

"Daniel"-

He barely registered his own name on a stranger's tongue before he was spun, tripping over his feet and loosing balance on a clump of grass. The older man was sat forward on the bench to stop him from walking off, hand on his wrist, but Danny yelped as he fell against him, catching himself with his free hand on a broad shoulder and a knee banged painfully into the hard plastic of the bench.

Neither of those two things mattered however.

What mattered, was the loud sound of their masks clacking loudly together in the night. What mattered was the wide blue eyes staring at him, nearly crossed from how close they were. What mattered was the fluttering in his heart, the lump in his throat, the heat in his belly as lips, soft and wet and near scalding pressed to his own as Danny stared wide-eyed at the man now practically under him. Those dark eyes fell half-shut as Danny pulled away barely an inch, eyes wide, as those deep blues bled red with barely surpressed emotion.

Danny tried to keep the panic out of his voice as he whispered, breath icy cold against hot lips, "...Vlad?"

His voice sounded so small even to his own ears, and Vlad's eyes darkened further. "I will give you a million dollars if you stay right here," Vlad said, heat and promise masking the desperation in his voice. Danny's breathing picked up.

He shoved away from the older man, Vlad falling back into the bench as Danny phased through his hold. His snow-cone had long been abandoned to the ground, and before Vlad could reach out to him, Danny was gone, invisible in an instant, and nearly three seconds later, fighting back panicked tears in the safety of his dorm, his hand shaking as he held it over his mouth.

[crossdressingdeath]

WIPGuessing game: dagger?

"Dagger" appears twice in my WIP! Not in a particularly interesting context (I haven't gotten to the stabbing yet), so I'll give you both:

"A single dagger hung at his hip, and his boots clicked softly on the floor as he moved."

"“Leptis is an altus, you know,” Illario said, eyeing the dagger. “A mage. I don't think one knife—”"

[twola]

Would it be possible to get some high honor!Arthur x reader thigh riding? 👀 Love your characterization of him!!

Y'all want the heck out of this specifically. I have three requests for the same thing! Here you go😚

Thank God for Whiskey

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI ➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

Thank God for whiskey.

No, specifically, Arthur Morgan wants to thank a God he had never thought much of to bless him with whiskey tonight. It’s warm in his belly - the calmness of slight inebriation coursing through veins.

Your blush-stained cheeks are downright adorable as you reach toward him, leaning against that tree. He was not in the most social of moods tonight, smoking a cigarette further away from the campfire than usual. You float to him, your path not quite a straight line, but your eyes shine with just the right amount of gaiety.

"Mister Morgan, why are you out here by y'self?" Your foot glances against a root of the large tree and you stumble forward, and immediately Arthur drops his cigarette to catch you, his hands quickly circling your waist, steadying you and helping you to stand again.

"Watch out there, sweetheart. Almost took a tumble there."

"Nuh-uh, you caught me." You laugh, your hands moving to grip his forearms, "Knew you would."

"Now that's puttin' quite a bit of faith in me." He retorts, but does not remove his hands from you. You do not remove your hands from him.

"Some goddamn faith." Your voice lowers to imitate the boisterous leader of the gang, but you can barely finish the sentence without devolving into giggles.

Arthur snorts, half a grin sliding across his face.“C’mon, should get you to bed there.”

"Nooo, come with me. Wanna show you somethin."

Somehow, some way, you’ve dragged him further away from the campfire, back a bit into the woods. You point to a fallen log in the small clearing and he chuckles as he follows your order.

"Now what did you want to show me?" Arthur groans softly as he sits, his back sore from a day in the saddle.

You smile, stepping closer to where he perches.

"Nothin, just wanted to do this." You lean in immediately, before he can recoil and press your lips to his for a moment.

He stares, flabbergasted, but that gives you the opportunity to climb in his lap without any resistance, your hands grabbing greedily at his shirt as you perch yourself on one of his legs, facing him.

At that point, he gains just a bit composure and grabs your hips as you yank on the black bandana he has tied around his neck. Your lips mash together again, and after several moments, one of his hands trails up your back to wrap around the nape of your neck as he opens his mouth to you, and you greedily accept with a loud moan.

He cannot help but to groan in response, his tongue pressing into your mouth as your arms fly around his shoulders.

Thank God for whiskey.

He loses track of time there, tongues pressing against each other, his hands roaming all over your back, yours carding through his shorn hair.

It isn’t long until your rocking your hips atop him, and when you give a whine as you fully straddle his saddle-hewn thigh, he swears he goes lightheaded as all of his blood runs south.

Christ, you’re moaning like a whore as you dig your fingers into his shoulders, dragging your cunt along the hard bone of his femur. So damn close to his steel-hard cock, your thigh brushes it and his teeth carefully latch down on your shoulder. He needs to stifle the groan threatening to escape somehow.

You pant in his ear, whining in a needy high register as you thrust your hips back and forth, aided by his large hands clenched around your hips.

“That’s it, c’mon there darlin’, I know you’re gettin’ close.” He rumbles into your skin, tone husky and voice rough.

Christ, he’s getting close himself. Your desperate mewling and grinding of your cunt down on his leg has got him bucking up to meet you, his fingers digging into your skirts.

“Ar- Art- ngh - Arthur-” You moan, and he cups your ass fully, dragging you over his thigh.

Thank God for whiskey.

You’re goddamn beautiful when you come, your head thrown back, hips thrown hard against his leg, he swears he can feel a dampening spot on his trousers from your cunt.

One large hand flies up from your hips as you begin to still and yanks at your blouse, exposing the swell of your breast. He immediately moves his lips upon it, a mouthful of your skin stifling the groan as his hips buck up. He pulls you with his other hand, your thigh flush up to the bulge in his pants, and you whimper as he sucks on your breast hard.

A ring of teeth make indentations in your skin as he bucks up and spends himself in his pants.

It’s a moment before he unlatches his mouth from your breast, skin spit slicked and red.

The two of you stare at each other, panting, hair askew, breathless. Suddenly sober enough to realize what you had just done. Your slick noticeable along the seam of your bloomers. His spend cooling within his union suit.

Arthur internally curses.

Shit, did you regret what you just did? Was the fire in you just the whiskey burning off? Of course it was, how could a pretty, sweet little think like you want an old, washed up outlaw like him?

You frown slightly as he can feel his cheeks burning red with shame. In an instant, your hands move from his shoulder to the collar of his shirt, and you yank him into a smothering kiss. He is only surprised for a moment before his hands fly to your ass again, and he pulls you flush against him. Maybe in the morning, you’ll blush when you look at him with that pretty little smile.

Maybe you’ll wake up in his arms.

Thank God for whiskey.

[itsalwaysteatimeinwonderland]

Request: Spike x fem!reader (I love Buddy and Spike together, but in fairytale land he’s ours instead of hers)

Plot: She’s a slayer who works with Buffy on occasion, when Spike sees her for the first time his jaw drops so far that Buddy has to keep her from stabbing him and saying “he works with us, don’t worry about him” and the rest of that first meeting of theirs is up to you

I love this prompt! I did go overboard with it. So apologize for the long and winded answer.

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William (Spike x y/n)

Requested: Heck yes! See above.

Word count: 3.2k (sorry)

TW: talks about being hurt.

Summary: Once a romantic, always a romantic.

Masterlist

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Another night of patrolling. You were tired of trailing behind Buffy. Always second best as a slayer. You managed by reminding yourself that you were here to learn and not hate. After all, Buffy was a good person; she's just bossy. 

"Can we take a rest? We've been out here for hours and nothing." You say.

Buffy sighs. "Fine." She sits by a gravestone. "Spike said there was a big bad roaming this area. I guess he was wrong."

"Who's Spike?"

Buffy takes a pause. "No one of importance."

You give her a weird look. No one of importance yet you’re out there hunting because of the information this 'no one' provided. 

You hear a twig snap and you’re on high alert. Buffy takes out her stake and jumps up from her seat. 

A figure steps out of the shadow. A vampire. You're quick to lunge at them. You start by throwing punches and kicking where you could reach but the vampire was strong and fast. After some time, you're able to pin him down. You lift your stake to end him.

"Stop!" Buffy yells. 

You turn back to her confused. You look down at the vampire and are caught by how handsome he is. 

"That's Spike. He works with us, don’t worry about him."

"You're the 'no one of importance'? A vampire?" You stall in getting up from him. 

"I’ve been threatened before but never by a beautiful woman."

You scramble to get off, embarrassed and angry.

"You didn't have to get up on my account" spike flashes you a smile. 

A charismatic vampire. Just what you needed. 

"A vampire. On our side. Explain." You turn to Buffy. 

Buffy sighs. "He was bad. He found a soul. Now he's good."

You eye him up and down. "A vampire with a soul? Do you brood too, like Angel?"

He's caught off guard. He's too busy admiring you. Taking you in. He swore time stopped when your eyes met. If you were the last thing je saw begore he dies, it would be enough for him. 

He opened his mouth to respond but he was too caught up in your presence to formulate a sentence. He felt like a dolt. Like a schoolboy with a crush. 

"Well? Too good to talk?" You tease. 

He smiles and steps closer to you. He holds back from caressing your face. 

"Sorry, love. I was caught off guard by your beauty."

You blush. A smooth talker. You walk past him trying to avoid his probing gaze. 

"Are we done here?" You ask Buffy.

"Yeah. Tonight was a bust. Thanks, a lot Spike." Buffy walks past Spike along to your side. 

Spike's eyes trailed after you. He could drown in you and still be content. He formulated ways to be around you, hopefully, with you. 

The next night Spike found himself by Buffy's side. Anxious for you to join.

"Bored enough to patrol with us?" Buffy asked annoyed.

Spike was too busy craning his neck and looking left and right to find you to answer Buffy. 

You eventually run up to the pair. You look Spike up and down, a bit nervous that he was there. 

"The Nobody is tagging along?" You asked Buffy.

She assented. 

The three of you skulk around the woods and cemetery in the hopes of finding a vampire, a demon, anything. Tonight, seems to be another bust. Buffy couldn’t stop but worry for you meeting Spike. She consistently caught Spike following you, looking at you.

All the while, Spike is thinking of witty things to say to get your attention. He feels like such a goof around you. You were his ale and he was drunk on you.

"Well I’m done." You say. 

Spike perks up. He can walk you home. That's romantic, right. 

Buffy sighs but concedes. She is still watchful of Spike’s behaviors. She worriesyou’re your safety. However, she trusts your judgment and your ability to stay safe. After a brief good night you start walking away. Spike jogs after you and walks in pace with you.

"What are you doing?" You question him. 

"Walking you home." He says simply.

"What makes you think I can't walk home by myself?"

"A pretty girl like you shouldn't be alone at night." He kicks himself for being so forward.

"You think I’m pretty?" You look at him.

Spike's words come out in a jumble. He doesn't know how to respond, especially as you look at him. He feels like such a fool around you.

"Is this your place?" He points at a house nearby. 

Your attention is rerouted to the house in question. You assent but you're curious how did he know what your house looks like. You choose not to ask. 

Spike realizes that he has given himself away. Of course, he knew what your house looked like. He stalked you the night you met. He had to know everything about you. 

You both walk up to your porch. 

"Thank you for walking me home."

"Jus' doing my job."

"What job is that, exactly?" You tease. 

Spike is flustered and anxious. If he could blush he'd be a mess of hues of red. He chooses not to answer. He turns away and waves you good night. As he walks down the street he makes sure that he is out of your sight before he sprints back to his crypt. He was inspired. He was full. He was in love.

For the next several nights Spike patrolled with you and Buffy. Every night he'd walk you home. Every time he made a fool of himself in front of you. He wanted to redeem himself but just couldn't get himself well put together enough to show you he was smooth. 

One night Buffy decides its best if you split up. She makes Spike go with her but Spike protests. She reprimands him and he is forced to trail behind her. Spike is sluggish as he follows Buffy. It doesn’t take long for him to hear you yelling for support. He sprints your way, afraid for your safety. Buffy struggles to keep up.

One big demon was lurking down an alley way. You run up to him before Spike has the time to stop you. You get the wind knocked out of you by one of the demon's arms. Spike jumps in and goes for the eyes. As the demon thrashes, it takes him awhile to get to the demon's head.

Spike is successful in blinding the demon. He later ends its existence with a metal pipe to his heart. 

All the while you're knocked out on the floor, bleeding from the bruises you accumulated from being thrown around. Spike is quick to run to your side. His love mangled and bruised. Spike picks up you unconscious body bridal style and starts towards your house. Buffy blocks his path.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

He looks at her annoyed, “Protecting y/n. What does it look like?”

“Put her down or I’ll stake you.”

“Go ahead. You know you need me more than I need you.”

Buffy groans and moves out of the way. She makes a mental note to keep tabs on Spike. Not all of him was bad, but a tiger can’t change his stripes.

It doesn't take long for you to awaken in his arms. Your vision is blurry but you can make out a chiseled jaw and blonde hair. The realization that Spike was carrying you hits you. 

"Put me down." You say in a gravelly voice. 

Spike looks down at you, nothing but adoration in his eyes. 

"Can't, kitten. You're in no state for walking." He responds

You wiggle around in the hopes of breaking free but you're welcomed with pain in different parts of your body. You decide its best to stay put. 

It's a quiet walk back to your house. You could smell his scent. Fresh dug up dirt and sage. You were entranced by it. 

When you reach your porch Spike refuses to put you down. 

"Let me in." He says.

You look up to him wide eyed. Before you could open your mouth to protest Spike interrupted you.

"I can't take care of you if I can't come in."

"Put me down." Was all you could muster.

You were so afraid of letting him into your home you would rather drag your body than let him in. In theory of course.

As soon as Spike obliged and set you down, your body faltered and came crashing down. Spike hyper aware of your every move, and knowing this would happen, grabbed you and held you bridal style again. 

You sigh in frustration. You were too proud to drag yourself into your home. But you were too afraid to give this vampire so much power. 

"All I want to do is care for you. It's the only thing I've wanted."

You look up at him. You're met with sincere eyes. You’re memorized by the slope of his nose, the arch of his eyebrow, the swell of his lips. You give in. 

You open the door and invite him in. Spike is elated. He takes in your scent. He dreamed, momentarily, what your scents intertwined together would smell like. Crumpled bed sheets, soft pillows, an unmade shared bed. You were open water, and he was drowning. 

He eventually snaps out of his reverie and walks you to the bathroom. He sits you on top of the closed toilet seat. You point to a first aid kit. He makes quick work of your bruises and cuts. He takes care of your face first. 

The closeness was killing him. He can feel your soft breath. Clearly see the tiny scars you accumulated on your face from fighting demons and vampires. He can feel your welcoming skin. 

Once he was done with your face, he had to tend to your ribs that he knew were bruised. 

He inhales and prepares himself. "L-lift up... your sh-shirt." He stammers. With you he wasn’t Spike, he was William Pratt. Nerdy, small and scared. This was by no means a confession of love yet he was afraid you would reject his request to take care of you. 

You were initially surprised by his request but you knew he needed to check your ribs. You slowly lift your shirt, suspicious but welcoming. 

If Spike could breathe his breath it would be stuck in the back of his throat. To gaze upon so supple flesh, the curve of your stomach, the color of your skin. If only he had more. He was spellbound. 

As he continued to take in your body he sees the nasty bruises on your ribs. He snaps back to reality and is quick to tend to them. 

"Sorry." He mumbles as he works on your ribs. 

You giggle. "I didn't know I was that pretty."

He hypes himself up to speak. He hopes that it'll come out charming and honest. He lifts himself up to look into your eyes. 

"You're breathtaking." He sticks the landing. It's not much but it’s what he can muster up. 

Your breath is shallow and shaky. It all hit you at once. You’re, alone and semi nude, in your bathroom with a vampire who was tending to your wounds. What were you doing? You didn't know this man that well. You start to panic. Spike can see it in your eyes. He stands and gives you space. 

"What is it?" He probes. 

"I don't know you. Why are you doing this?" You pull down your shirt. 

He's quick to decide on his words or else he'll lose you. "I'm drowning in you." His words are sincere, desperate. 

You sit there confused and overwhelmed. A vampire, in love? 

You bite your lower lip, not knowing what to say. You didn't want to admit it, but you were there with him in the throes of the waves. You think of ways of not chasing him away. 

You stand up and walk to your hallway into a closet. You pull out a spare pillow and some blankets. 

Spike follows confused and scared. What if his confession was too much.

"You can't go out. The sun will rise soon. You can stay with me for the day."

Spike is instantly giddy and energized. To spend the day at your home with you, he doubts he'll get any shut eye. 

"Sadly, you can't sleep in the living room. The curtains aren't dark enough. You'll sleep in my room, I'll sleep on the couch."

"No such thing!" Spike protests. 

"What's the alternative?" You question.

"I'll be a perfect gentleman." Spike grins at you.

There he goes again, finding ways into your heart. Always present, always charming. You trusted him to keep his hands to himself; but do you trust yourself? 

You sigh and assent. There was no other way to the equation. You're sharing a bed.

As you get ready for bed, Spike wanders around your room. He continues to take in your scent, touch your stuff and even look through your hamper of dirty clothes. 

When you're done, Spike is already lying in bed, shirtless. You remember to breath. You didn't know if you'd last the night. 

"Something wrong, love?" He asked. 

You shake your head and get into bed. You turn off your lamp and you're both consumed by the darkness. It was quiet. Too quiet. You tried not to make it awkward. 

"Are you asleep?" You ask. 

Spike smiles in the dark. "Not yet." He was relishing the closeness, the intimacy of it all. 

"Talk to me then. I'm not tired."

"What do you want to know?" He turns to you, his head in his hand, elbow propping him up. 

You slowly turn to him, conscious of the proximity. Of the possible contact. 

"Tell me about you as a human."

Spike takes a deep breath, not that he needed it. He hated talking about meek and small William; but for you he would do anything.

He dives deep into who his character was when he was human. He added disdained looks and nasty remarks about who he used to be. 

"... nothing but a pathetic unworthy sack of bad poetry."

"Stop it. William sounded sweet, and caring. Empathetic and loving."

Spike's eyes widen. No one has ever referenced to him as such, unless it was his mother. He clears his throat. 

"He was something" he dismisses your words.

"I think I'd love William. He might make a good boyfriend." You giggle. 

At your words Spike is instantly fired up. Yes! This is his way in. He needs to tap into William's energy. He needs to be loving and soft. Caring and unconditional. Not that he wasn't all those things already, but he doubted his ability to conquer your heart as Spike. 

"A rose by any other name is still a rose." Spike suggested. 

You smiled at the idea of Spike still being the same sensitive poet. You pondered on the possibilities. 

You guys talked for the rest of the night until the sun came up. Soike felt more confident and was witty, as he wanted to. 

Due to your extensive talks you both slept in until the sun set. You were the first one to wake up and went straight to shower and get ready for patrolling. Spike woke up to an empty bed. He panics. Was last night a dream. He jumps out of bed and searches for you around the house. Spike spots you as you exit the bathroom. He breathes a deep sigh.

Spike pretends to be put together and follows suit in showering and getting ready. 

As you walk out if the house and onto the streets Spike feels bold and reaches for your hand. Not the whole way. Just caresses and soft touches. He's testing the water. You don't move your hand away and Spike smiles. One you reach the cemetery he decides to go for it and grabs your hand. He waits. One second. Two. Three. You didn't pull your hand away. Success! However, you quickly let go of his hand when Buffy appears.

You greet each other. Your face red in embarrassment. You couldn’t get caught flirting with a vampire. You’re not Buffy, but you can see the appeal of such a pairing.

Buffy is weary and worried about you. But she’s too busy and tired to be patrolling tonight. She hates herself for thinking this, but she had no choice but to let you two patrol without her.

Spike is excited to have time with you, even if it means fighting baddies. He is watchful of your every move, how your scent fills the air, your soft breathing as you weave through the woods. Another slow night, nothing to be done. Spike pushes himself to invite you into his crypt. He wants to spend more time with you, bring you into his world. You agree.

You admire how he has made a place of death his home. You sit on the couch he has in his ‘living room.’ Spike explains that he hasn’t any refreshments to offer. You don’t care. He is quick to take a seat by you. He suggests watching TV. You decline.

“What do you want to do then?”

You’re feeling wild and bold. You wondered what it felt to kiss a vampire. You had shared too much time already. You knew his intentions. Why not take it a step farther. You felt like you were moving too quickly but time waits for no one.

“This.” You say as you lean into kiss him.

Spike is surprised but wants this more than his undead life. The kiss is chaste, soft. You back away to see his expression. However, Spike is too into the process to end it so quickly. He places his hands on the side of your face and leans in for a deeper kiss. He takes your taste, tropical fruit and sweetness. You give in, wanting this moment to last.

Spike’s kiss is rougher, wanting, full of desire. You move closer wanting to be engulfed by him. You didn’t know this is what you needed but here you were, being one with him. Spike asks for permission with his tongue to explore your mouth. You give in. The ambience is hot and heavy. Your breath is shallow. Your body is coming alive and you want more. Spike catches onto the cues. He can tell that this has turned into lust. He wants love. He slows down the kiss until you separate.

You’re confused and disappointed. You look at him for answers.

“I thought you wanted me.”

“More than life.” He says.

“Then, what’s wrong?”

“I want all of you. Not just your body.”

You blush. A vampire in love, what a sight to see. You didn’t know what it would look like to love a vampire. You didn’t know if this was wise, but you were too involved to back out now. You lean in for one last kiss.

“We can take it slow.” You agree as you walk up and leave the crypt.

Spike is elated and excited. He is full of life and energy. He may be drowning in you but you were right with him swimming in the same turbulent sea. He wanted you to be his life saver, the reason for him to continue on. He knew of love but never of this intensity. Nothing compared to this feeling. He walked down to his room to lay in bed. He reaches for a notebook and starts writing poetry. You were his muse, and he was -after all- a poet in love.  

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Need You

Nathan Bateman x GN!Reader • Rating: PG •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist• ko-fi •

Summary: Nathan wants to go to sleep.

A/N: Guess who's being all sappy againnnn.

Warnings: fluffy fluff fluff, self-indulgent as HECK, swearing, Nathan being a little shit, reader being a little shit too, over use of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 758

You hear Nathan before you see him, practically stomping down the corridor. Most of the time he was surprisingly light footed and took a perverse glee in sneaking up on you at any available opportunity. So that fact that he was being so obvious about where he was now was most certainly to send you a message. 

The message of: hurry the fuck up and come to bed. 

You couldn’t help the smile that pulled at your lips. 

As the office door opened you pretended to ignore it, not even looking up from your screen as you typed. 

Out of the corner of your vision, you could see Nathan’s outline in the doorway, his hands on his hips as he watched you, the air of unimpressed rolling off him in waves. 

You count the seconds in your head, one, two, three, four…

“What the fuck are you doing?” He grumbled, padding into the room and standing next to you. 

“Working.” 

“It’s late.”

You don’t look up from your screen. “So?” 

“So?” 

“So?”

He groans. “Fucking turn that off.” 

You school your face into a scowl, despite the fact you want to giggle, and glare at him. “I’m working, you’re always working weird hours.”

“You were working five minutes ago, you were looking at lego sets.” He crosses his arms.

“Monitoring my computer?” You smirk.

“Always.”

“It’s research.” You stress.

“No, it’s not.” 

You turn back to your computer screen, but don’t even bother to pretend to hit the keys. 

Nathan lets out a humph. 

“Why do you want me to stop looking at Lego sets?” You ask as innocently as you can, looking back up at him. 

Nathan swallows, still scowling. 

You smile, sickenly sweet as glee runs through your veins. Slowly, you move to go back to what you were doing, purposefully moving languidly to drag the seconds out.

He breaks sooner than you thought he would.

“Fine, I’ll buy you every fucking Lego set that has ever been made, hell, I’ll buy you three. One to build, one to keep and one to burn-”

“That’s a waste, Nathan.”

He ignores your interjection, but he rolls his eyes at you, “if you just turn off the computer.”

“Why?” You don’t look at him. 

He grumbles again.

“Why Nathan?” You ask in a sing-song voice. 

“Don’t make me say it.” He mutters.

“Sorry?” You cup your hand to your ear in an over the top fashion just to tease him, “I didn’t catch that?” 

He groans, flopping his hands to his sides, looking momentarily like a toddler about to throw themselves on the floor for not getting their own way. 

“I want to go to sleep.” He huffs out.

“Sorry?” You can’t help but push him.

“I want to go to sleep.” He repeats, louder and clearer, and definitely with more exasperation.

You look up at him, giving him your full and undivided attention. “So?” 

He glares at you, a storm brewing on his forehead. But instead of saying something rude or marching off, he takes a deep breath. “I would like to go to sleep with you in bed next to me,” he pauses for half a second, pushing the frown from his face before he adds, “please.”

Surprisingly the word isn’t said begrudgingly. 

He catches the small flicker of shock on your face and he kneels down next to you, battering his eyes dramatically and putting his hands on your knees. 

“Please come to bed with me?” He says in an awful baby voice. 

You burst out laughing. “Stop, don’t ever do that fucking voice again.”

“Why?” He blinks harder, continuing the voice and somehow making it worse. 

You playfully go to push his cheek softly away, but he catches your wrist in his hand lightening fast as he kisses your wrist. 

“Please?” He repeats, still babyfied. 

“Will you stop that voice if I say yes?” You giggle. 

And he nods looking up at you softly, still battering his eyes. 

You snort. “Alright. You’re so silly.”

“No?” He grins and kisses your palm.

“Yes. All you needed to do was admit you’d like me to come to bed with you.” 

“Hmm,” he snuffles closer on his knees, pushing your legs lightly apart. “Need me to tell you I need you, huh? You that pathetic?” He teases.

“Yes.” You say bluntly, smiling, knowing that’s not what he expects.

There’s a flicker of surprise for a second before a soft smile pulls at his lips. “I need you, baby,” he says silkily, knowing that’s not what you expect either.

Thank you for reading!

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[diodellet]

cw: 3 am thoughts hitting, but this time we got good ones 🤧 yippee🎉 i would've wanted to put this in my current wip, but the vibes don't fit, so i'm jus throwing it out here. pre-slash relationship crack, reader is yuu/ramshackle prefect and extra down-bad for jamil, accidental violence and blood descriptions, unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine as always. if u see me editing out any typos and incomplete sentences, no u did not.

thinking of how jamil seems to have a constant furrow in his brow while sleeping. at first, you take it as a sign that he probably isn't even asleep. he's probably keeping his eyes shut in spite of the noise you make. as much as you blame the lack of regular upkeep for the ramshackle dormitory's constant creaks and groans, jamil probably is the lightest sleeper (out of the human characters in the NRC ensemble at least). he's probably keeping all the minute complaints to himself and is just making use of these forty-five minutes away from kalim.

to you, the little crease on his forehead is extra confirmation that - no matter how much he denies it - jamil is so overworked that he cannot seem to find much peace, even in unconsciousness.

and you try to busy yourself, anything to stop from keeping vigil (or watching over him like a guardian angel? to be honest, you were more like a sleep paralysis demon). you were not going to ruin this sacred nap - oh, that sounded so depressing, he barely even gets an hour of break time away from his duties.

(though you do consider reaching for his phone and messing with the alarm. maybe you could stretch that scant bit of time into two, three hours. or just shut it off completely, jamil more than deserved the sublime comfort of not having to wake up to alarms. but, alas, if only you knew his passcode.)

instead what happens is that you crouch by him, one of your hands tentatively outstretched. the pads of your fingertips just hovering a few centimeters away from his face, poised to soothe the tension from his features.

and what happened next, happened in rapid succession and was completely your fault.

crack!

(your cheeks don't stop burning. you can hang your head in a display of shameful contrition, sure. but the truth is that you're tuning out every single word of jamil's exasperated sermon in favor of savoring his touch as he presses a fistful of napkins against your face to stop the bleeding. thankfully not broken, but capillaries like to do their thing and make the situation more dramatic than it actually is.

"enough worrying about me, what about your hand?" you'd sound so cool if you didn't have dried blood on your face.

the unimpressed frown jamil gives you is all the response you need. heck, if you looked closely, you could see him combing through his encyclopedia of choice insults. "my hand is fine. but now i've got a headache thanks to someone being a dumbass. should i be glad that it isn't kalim for once?"

oh, more than a mix of guilt and shame, having jamil's attention on you is an intoxicating sensation, you can only muster a weak "haha" in response.)

[lol-jackles]

It's been a while since we talked about SPN. So I wanted to ask you what you think of this essay on Sam (if you have the patience to listen to it, it's about 20 minutes). For some things the author's opinions are legitimate but for others, in my opinion, they are not. Especially for the finale, on which I do not share this opinion at all. www*youtube*com/watch?v=xLCB4RhiP5A&t=4s

I'm not even going to add the link, which tells you what I think of Rachel's opinion. I only agree that season 4 was a bit of a misfire.

Three minutes into the video and I was already bored with her complaints over the "lack" Sam's autonomy and pov.  Her Dean blaming got old really fast. Yeah, Dean is unfair towards Sam but 1) that's what brothers do, and most importantly 2) that's what happens to main characters, they constantly get shitted on. One of the biggest reliefs in real life is realizing you're not the main character. In The X Files, Mulder is called a loser even by the freaks and rarely given grace. Nobody apparently trusts Bode in Fire Country despite saving lives. Xena was always getting reminded of her less stellar past in Warrior Princess.

Sam girls get mad when stuff from Sam’s past gets brought up because they think he’s being unfairly punished for it.  At least Sam’s past is valid enough to be mentioned.  Cas’s storyline gets the LOL treatment and Dean’s arcs are always getting dropped; his hell trauma, tenure as the torturer’s apprentice, Michael’s vessel, demon, MOC, all are dropped and largely forgotten.

Probably the only time the AAs and I are in agreement is Dean's pov means squat because Dean isn't being talked about by other characters. Dean and his pov mainly revolve around Sam. To quote a casual observer I found on tumblr: Sam gets the larger story arcs in the show and Dean gets more of the “silly and fun” filler episodes.

As for Sam's autonomy, my guess is she and I have differing views on the meaning of the word. IMO, autonomous characters often have these traits:

A tendency to resist authority (Sam rebelling against John, Dean, Lucifer, and Chuck)

High level of self-assuredness (Sam knows himself outside the hunting lifestyle)

A need for personal space and privacy (Sam is a private person and admits not sharing his deep personal issues with Dean)

A preference for independence in social situations (Sam is not a follower)

An innate desire for control and decision making power (Sam's life long issue, demon blood infection made it worse)

A desire to set and achieve individual goals and aspirations. (Sam's consistent endgame through the entire series)

A character with autonomy means they have ability to act independently and make decisions without being influenced by others. They have strong sense of self, able to think critically, are self-sufficient and able to take responsibility for their actions. Doesn't that last sentence sound like Sam Winchester to the tee?

Oh yeah I very much Disagree with her take on the series finale.  Sam didn't die a bitter old man, what the heck was Rachel watching??? Sam peacefully passed away in his house with his beloved son at his side. Sam's son was clearly a well adjusted young man with a happy childhood. Happy well adjusted offsprings don't come from bitter parents. Sam wasn't bitter, sad yes, but not bitter because he accomplished the goal he had since his own childhood: to have a normal life outside of hunting and raise his own family. Most SPN fans were happy or satisfied with the finale because the Winchester legacy lives on.

[naturistgirl]

Naked in the Forest

A nemophilist is a word we use to describe someone who loves the company of woods, trees and forests. I do. They are an enormous part of our natural world and I love to walk among them naked. Nude is the best way to commune with nature and the trees. Here you can be at peace. They gaze down on us, but they are not our enemies.

Being naked helps you feel a natural part of their world, for it IS theirs, not ours. Come and walk with me through Lancashire's Hagg Wood and I'll explain how.

Trees outnumber people. There are approximately 8 billion of us and there are an estimated three trillion of them!

Trees are way longer lived than us and the oldest span the millennia. The most ancient tree in the UK has clocked up an estimated 3,000 years. These guys know a thing or too about survival, having been, collectively, around for about 420 million years! You have to respect them as a species.

Even after death, they carry on giving to the community around them. This tree provides food for insect eating birds like woodpeckers and shelter for others.

This fallen giant; a large beech tree, hundreds of years old, has lost limbs but it is actually still very much alive with abundant green leaves.

I feel humbled and small in comparison to gentle giants like these. Being naked feels right. You can no longer pretend that we are a superior species and masters of nature, we aren't. Trees should not be felled to satisfy our greed for more land, fuel or resources.

This is a truly special place to walk naked. Most ancient woodlands are. Maybe you have a wood or forest within easy reach of your home? This one is about 10 minutes from mine.

I hope that you enjoyed this blog focussing on being nude outdoors. the shoot was made a couple of days ago in conjunction with my photographer husband, Mart. Thank you to him for his dedicated camera work and editing. All photos remain his copyright.

You know the drill by now. If you are a naturist or naturally inclined, DO share, re-blog and like this post. If you just prefer 'naked ladies' and are maybe not, as yet a naturist, why not try it? What the heck? You can like the post too if you wish and share if you must. However I will post solo images with captions for those whose literacy is challenged by more than a sentence or two. :-) I don't judge.

Jane xx

[spencersbabymama]

Numbers l Chapter two

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Disabled OC

Content Warning: Talk about disability limitations, Brief mention of unsub being a serial r*pest, Reid staring (because hello his eyes could stare into your soul)

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: Brooke's first day day and she's already realizing none of this will be a cake walk.

Taglist: @just-call-me-by-yn @mggslover @spencerreidsrightsock @reidingandallthat

A/n: Shout out again to @just-call-me-by-yn for another awesome banner! And thank you all for the love on the first chapter!

Story:

Four simple words, that’s all it took for my new coworkers to change their demeanor.  The group became more rigid, serious.  Penelope disappears while Hotch hands out a copy of the same folder to everyone including me.  The folders were thick, which was probably a bad sign.  

I pulled my chair up to one of the tables just in time for Penelope to come back with a laptop and pull up a seat next to me.  “Normally we meet in a private room at a round table but we don’t have a way to get you in there…” Penelope whispers in almost a flat tone, before letting her sentence linger in the air for a moment, then proceeds to boot up her laptop.  

I wasn’t sure if that was a dig at me, like she was annoyed I was disrupting the way everyone operated.  The last thing I wanted was to derail everyone from doing their job.  I wanted to help, not hinder.

Apparently Penelope could tell what I was thinking because she let out a small horrified gasp, realizing what she just said, then quickly touched my arm in a reassuring manner “Oh my gosh, I meant to say yet, we don’t have a way to get you in there yet.”

My shoulders relaxed and I nodded in return with a small smile.  Good, I could still consider the girl a friend, an ally.

Hotch cleared his throat, pulling all the attention back to himself “Right here in Washington there’s been a series of abductions.  All young women ranging from 19 to 30 years of age.  The rate of these abductions seem to be escalating which is why local law enforcement has asked for our help.”

I knew what I was signing up for but something about hearing this stuff out loud did something to a person’s stomach.  The most human reaction was well why are we just sitting here?  These women need help and we’re just talking, but I knew there was a process and these people were the best for a reason.

“It looks like there haven't been any victims found yet so that could mean the women are still alive.” JJ said while flipping through the pages.

Everyone nodded before Derek, the one who looked like he was carved straight out of onyx stone, added “That could also mean the unsub has other plans with our victims, how were these women taken?”

Hotch folds his hands on the table “That’s the only thing we know that’s common between each victim.” He sighs “They all used a chat room for singles and were kidnapped exactly three days after logging on.”

I tried taking in all the information.  Hearing the mention of a chat room made my mind start to run with different ways to catch this guy.  There were plenty of ways they could track him.  Of course if he was remotely smart he probably covered his tracks at least on the surface.

“Since this unsub runs mostly online we’re gonna need you and Bevan’s expertise on this.” Hotch explains, addressing the both of us.  Penelope responded with an affirmative yes sir while I gave a small nod.  A weight seemed to build on my shoulders.  This was heck of a first case.

It was hard not to feel imposter syndrome when you’re surrounded by such talents in their field.  This group weren’t just agents.  They made it their job getting inside the mind of these insane criminals and it seemed to have results.  I don’t know if I could ever be their level, but I was ready to help.

Everyone’s eyes were on us but the only one that seemed to make me squirm in my wheelchair a little.  Chess Guy, also known as Spencer Reid.  Chess Guy just seemed so much more fun in my head.  I didn’t let myself notice in the moment but when I wasn’t thinking about these poor women, I could feel him glance over at me every now and then.  Not Penelope, me.  He was probably just trying to vet me but still, his glance was the only one that was distracting.

Hotch speaks up again, now addressing Spencer “Reid, I want you to stay here and help the girls.  I want you to look through all the message exchanges these women made and see what you can find.”

Spencer nodded before sitting up in his seat “We’re probably dealing with a serial rapist.  Most find their victims online and have no plans on stopping.”

If my stomach wasn’t in knots before, it sure was now.

Hotch nods in agreement while standing up “Which is why we can’t waste time.  JJ and David, I want you to track down the family and friends to see what else we can find out about these women.  Derek, I want you to help me set up with the local police department.”

With everyone’s new assignments, each split up except for myself, Penelope, and Spencer.

Penelope was the first one to say something “Well, I have a feeling this is going to be the new dream team.” She beams, which makes Spencer and I laugh.  It seemed wrong to laugh after a meeting like that but at the same time it felt good to cut the tension.

🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

“So this is the lair.” Penelope opened the door to reveal a windowless room covered almost top to bottom with countless amounts of tech and software.  It was a tech guru’s wet dream.  One wall was just dedicated to the software towers running the computers on the desk.  There probably wasn’t a need for the ceiling lights, the numerous buttons, and screens admitted enough light all together. 

I tried to act cool, like I saw things like this everyday, but my jaw betrayed me, hanging open and laying out all my inner thoughts.

Penelope giggled and nodded in agreement as if she read my mind “Yeah that was my reaction the first time too.” 

She shut the door behind us before giving a little tour.  From the computer monitors, to the bulletin wall, everything had a purpose amongst the wires and plugs.  Finally Penelope gestured to the chair-less section of the desk next to her seat “And this is your little corner.”

Resting on the desk was my own computer monitor, shiny, and new.  The corners of my mouth twisted up into a smile and I guided my chair over to get a closer look.  This was a nice jump from coding on my laptop.  “Wow… The government spares no expense does it?” I joke, still attempting not to look too much like a fan girl.  In reality I felt like crying.  I was almost in disbelief that I was trusted with my own system.  With this software I was going to have so much power to help people.  I wasn’t powerless in this wheelchair.  Inside this screen I could find and save as many people as possible.

Penelope giggled before gesturing to her portion of the desk “I recommend getting cute little creatures to spruce up your side.”  Her side was littered with all kinds of knickknacks and critters that could be sold at any Dollar Store.  If it was considered cute, it was there.  Her pens were even topped with those fluff balls.

The sight made me giggle this time before I looked at her “As much as I love your set up, I don’t know if it’s necessarily me…” My voice trails off as I slightly wince, hoping I didn’t suck the wind out of her very perky sails.  I didn’t consider myself a black cat kind of girl, but I definitely wasn’t that perky.  I was one of those girls who geeked out over movies, or the latest romance novel everyone was raving over.  Yes, even tech girls are into romance.  Not exactly unicorn vomit though.

Penelope snickers a little but I could tell there was something haunted in her eyes “Well…  Sometimes after looking at these screens long enough,” She picks up a little toy that looks like a hybrid of a cat and a unicorn “You need some cute things to look at.”

My face fell, realizing what she meant.  Even though I only knew this woman for less than a few hours, my heart hurt for her.  I knew this job took a toll and no one was immune to it, but on the outside it seemed like Penelope was maybe a rare bird that was too sunshine-like to be burdened by the horrors that come with looking at these screens.  I didn’t want to push so I just gave a small smile and spoke softly “I-I’ll think of something…  Maybe displaying some books or something might be fun.”  The gesture was more for my new friend rather than me, but maybe she was on to something.

That seemed to do the trick because Penelope took a deep breath as if to reboot herself, then let her smile return with a nod.  She put the toy back then grabbed an earpiece off the desk “So this is yours, can I put it on for you?” 

After giving a nod of consent, Penelope carefully leaned over and moved my brown hair so she could place the piece of tech in my ear.  Once it was secure, she steps back to look proudly at her work with her hands on her hips. “Well Newbie, we’ve just met but I don’t think you’ve ever looked better.” 

We both start laughing before the door swings open and Spencer steps inside with a folder in his hand.

He looks between Penelope and I before smiling at me softly “I see Penelope has already started to get you suited up.”

I giggle slightly and nod.

Penelope makes a slight crooked smirk towards him “I say she already looks like she fits the part.”

Maybe all the blue light was starting to get to my head already but I could have sworn this so-called genius blushed in my direction. I didn’t do anything to evoke such a reaction.  He just looked at me with another smile and his cheeks grew a pink tint.

Penelope glanced between the two of us and smirked again.  It looked like ideas were brewing in her head but I couldn’t begin to think of what they were.  “Should we get to work then?” She asked, almost suggesting.

Spencer and I quickly nodded in agreement, both ignoring the awkward exchange that just went down.

[themareverine]

Until We Fall ▹masterlist | worst!Logan x mutant!fem!OC

summary: DP&W AU. It's been God knows how many years after Logan's death in North Dakota—and this wouldn't be much of a story without a shiny new villain with a hot new plan, or someone to save the world. Well, maybe two someones. Ok, you win, three. But first, you have track down that said someone—the Wolverine. And who better to do that than the girl who found him the first time? Logan/OC

a/n: *knocks on glass, looks confused* hi, anyone still here? If so, welcome in! here's my DP& W AU. i have no idea what I'm doing. this is a sequel that i'm writing kinda-sorta at the same time as my main series, Mare & the Wolverine, and yes, please know, this is kinda self-insert-y. let me live, will you? reposting from my old account, OC is a mutant.

series masterlist | nav | | next

It's Called an Intro, Motherf******

Hi, welcome to the fuc–I mean freak, show. Don't want to blow the whole damn budget on the first 2.5 seconds of page time, right? Critics, good God–they're the worst. One sentence in and they'll judge the whole effin' book, hook line and sinker without even getting to the plot. Frickin' internet has made everyonea literary genius. Not.

ANYWAY—you're probably wondering what the eff I'm doing in the middle of this shitshow, huh? A story that isn't mine, hell—a story that isn't even technically writtenyet. That's a Fox thing. Or an MCU thing. Or a….thing, I guess? Dunno, this habit of timelines and then redoing and undoing them like a nun unbuckling a priests robes in a spittin' hurry after church is getting old—nobody really knows what the heck is going on. But, that's showbiz, right?

Rabbit trail, sorry. Frickin' brain. Anyway, yes–here. Ahem.

Well, really, we've got ourselves a Code Redpool (see what I did there?) with this one—someone trying to take over the world, rattle some cages, all that jazz. And if you didn't already know, such sticky little cumsucking messes requires a little bit more than a mercenary with a mouth. We already know I can't—don't—save the world. Despite what the box office may lend. It's above my paygrade, my hero tier. This rated R mothereffer hasn't gotten there yet, not on his own. Maybe another million or fifty.

Could be different this go around, though. Who effin' knows. All I know is that to save a world, to make a story, you need a couple of things—a smashin' budget, a whole helluva lot of copyright law, and a hero. An "anchor being," because Marvel has to be frickin' special. Sometimes two when the situation is Redpool, like it is. Maybe three, because I'll be EFFED if I'm not part of this one. Earnin' my stripes, going all Tony the Tiger and shit. You know the drill.

To help me out, I need the big guy. Yeah. Not Jesus, though it could be argued He's a factor, here. Very non denominational, very off script, very demure. Think more…yellow. Feral, as it were. Canadian. Yeah, dumbass—we need the Wolverine. The guy with the forks, the mutton chops from the 70s that were definitely a…choice. Logan. Yeah, him. Mr. Feral Forest Weasel himself.

And we'll probably need someone who can help us get to Logan, since he wouldn't know me from fresh effin' ADAM. If you saw Logan, you'll understand. Though it didn't happen exactly that way, because this is an AU—that fanfiction shit, you know. Sigh. We need someone who's tamed the beast, has clawed under all that adamantium and seen the hero where a trainwreck of a multiple-movies-gone-bad guy has stood.

A girl, genius. We need a girl. And lucky for you, delightful little fourth-wallians, I've got just the one.

Buckle up, mothereffer's—shit's about to get Wolverine-d.

Contents ➳❥ somewhere in the past, north dakota (in other words, the prologue) ➳❥ always sinners, rarely saints

[justalildumpling]

chapter 17: waiting for you

wc: 1.4k

Jeno didn’t vibe with chaos.

Unlike the unpredictable nature of his friends, he preferred the calm weekends in his dorm, the ones where it smelled like cheap Chinese takeout accompanied by his new favourite movie of the week displayed on the TV screen or maybe the ones where it just feels like the soft cotton of his blanket, eyes fixated on a particular spot of his ceiling. 

He didn’t mind the “boring” lifestyle (as his friends had labelled it) that he had placed upon himself. For him ‘boring’ meant comfort, security and predictability. No throwing up in the toilet bowl at three a.m., no expensive repairs of drunkenly damaged property or wild goose chases on a random Friday night.

Shuffling past the seemingly never-ending wave of sweaty bodies, Jeno found himself scoffing at his position. Hair stiff from the ungodly amounts of gel that Jaemin had crammed in earlier, his arms sticky from the accidental spillage during a game of beer pong and his heart hammering for a girl he had never met before, praying to whoever controlled the universe that she’d be okay, that he’d be able to find her within the crowd before it was too late.

With each flash of red that brushed past him, the growing anxiety in his chest plummeted further into the pits. 

He shouldn’t have convinced you to go to the party. 

Jeno grabbed a fistful of his hair, shagging it in an aggravated manner. This was not at all how he intended to figure out your identity. Not that he regretted the fact that he knew, but rather he had unknowingly put you in danger, causing not yourself but bloody Zhong Chenle to confirm his suspicions.

For fucks sake Jeno, think. If you were trying to avoid a party scene for reasons other than a weird creepy stalker trying to find you, where would you go?

As spotted the vacant areas around the staircase, a light bulb switched on in Jeno’s mind. 

Of course, you would go upstairs, hardly anyone would be there. However, his initial excitement was short-lived as he spotted a familiar face or a head of hair. 

Jeno couldn’t say he knew Beomgyu. Sure, he had seen him around campus at times and on rare occasions he decided to show up to a society event at the end of the year. If anything, Beomgyu was a popular figure around the university, known to be quite a charming fellow and never caused harm to anyone. 

But everyone had their hidden sides and Jeno could not be more panicked than ever as he began making his way towards the staircase ⎯ or rather, you.

With a rushed trip on his step, Jeno made his way to the second floor ⎯ which, to his delight, housed a more comfortable amount of humans but severely lacked a certain shade of red.

Fuck. Was he wrong about his assumptions? Did Beomgyu somehow manage to slip him and snatch you away without him knowing? Or heck, maybe he had already buried you alive inside Zhong Chenle’s backyard.

He shook his thoughts away as he whipped his head towards each person who passed his figure. 

Hair’s too long, doesn’t look like you at all, way too chirpy for someone on the run, just no.

Reaching towards the end of the hallway, one person remained. A familiar red hood enveloped the small frame, eyes nervously darting from corner to corner and hands trembling as it grasped onto the phone. 

Holy shit. It was you.

As if on autopilot, Jeno’s strides gradually became longer and faster as he made his way towards your figure. He didn’t exactly know what he was doing when he grabbed your hand, nor did it seem like you were expecting his appearance seeing as your eyes grew into wide saucers as you were lugged back towards the staircase, spluttering a mixture of sentences that he couldn’t grasp onto, but that wasn’t his biggest issue right now.

Jeno had been told multiple times for his bad luck with things, stubbing his toe on the same table corner, tripping over his best friend’s legs and now being chased down by a possible murderer inside of Chenle’s massive party (okay, maybe ‘murderer’ was a bit far fetched) but either way, he couldn’t believe the situation could get much worse than this. 

Pulling you into the first door as the two of you sprinted up the stairs, he realised the situation could, in fact, become much worse as out of the possibly fifteen different rooms inside Zhong Chenle’s mansion, he managed to pick the fucking supply closet.

Realistically, any person with functioning brain cells would have opened up the door again to seek shelter in the comforts of his friend’s bedroom (the original destination he had in mind) but Lee Jeno wasn’t quite the brightest of the human kind. Rather he chose his pride over the functionality of the situation because he couldn’t have you knowing that he was stupid enough to get lost within his best friend’s walls, so what did he do? Lock the doors of course.

The two of you were engulfed by the shadows, the only light being the one seeping in from the crack underneath the door. He couldn’t see much of you, rather only being able to feel your presence as your body pressed against his and your shallow breaths hitting the underside of his chin. Squinting, he craned his head your way, (not exactly achieving much aside from the outlines of your figure in the darkness).

Lifting his hands to place on what he assumed was your shoulders, he took a deep breath, “Are you okay? He didn’t hurt you, did he?” 

A beat passed when you answered in a small stammer, “N-no, it’s fine. I’m okay.”

With a sigh of relief, the closet returned to a state of silence. Only the sound of muffled lyrics and cheering college kids cut the tension in the background. It was then Jeno realised one fault about his twin flame, the fact that the two of you were in words the same person, meaning — without the protection of the electronic screen, the pair of you were painfully awkward. 

It wasn’t like Jeno didn’t want to talk to you, as a matter of fact, it was quite the contrary. In the lead-up to the party, Jeno had millions of questions racing in his mind about your hobbies, your life and simply just about you but something about rescuing you from a crazy stalker and being stuck in a tight supply closet just didn’t seem to be the best place for his eager introductions and maybe you had the same thoughts.

“So-”

“I guess-”

Nervous laughter tumbled out from your throats, with an outline of his hand gesturing for you to continue.

You sat in silence for a moment, fidgeting around with the edges of the shelves before mumbling, “I guess you found me.”

“You sound disappointed.” 

“No! Not at all,” You waved your hands in front of his face, “I just⎯ I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“What do you mean?”

“Honestly, I kinda put off meeting you for so long because I feel like I don’t know how to act around you,” You admitted quietly, shuffling around in your spot, “As unbelievable as it sounds, I do in fact get nervous in front of hot samoyed-like boys called Lee Jeno.”

It had always been a mystery of how much you were able to affect his little heart, and how his attempted counterattacks seemed to do such little damage to you. But then again, Jeno was an oblivious fellow, who had never seen your words coming. 

Jeno wanted to punch the air, kick his feet up or ‘man squeal’ as Donghyuck liked to describe it. But he couldn’t let you win, not for the second time within the last minute. 

“Would you mind if I asked you on a date?”

You paused, before giggles ensured, “Jeno, you don’t need to ask permission to ask me on a date.”

“Hey— it never hurts to be sure,” Embarrassment crept up his neck, shaking his head at your amused response before clearing his throat, “So, what do you say?”

“I would love to.”

masterlist || previous | next 

pairing: jeno x fem! reader

synopsis: chenle was convinced that his two introverted friends were destined for each other, so what does he do? bribe them to text each other of course ⎯ or alternatively, when jeno started to fall for an anonymous mutual friend of chenle's

genre: social media au, strangers to lovers, college au, FLUFF, crack

warnings: swearing, mentions of stalkerish behaviour, alcohol, jokes about death/murder, jeno is a SIMP

note: WAITING FORRRR JUST WAITING FORRRR YA!!!! i've had this scene envisioned in my head since i listened to the istj bridge. it's been a long time coming

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[hotvintagepoll]

John Fiedler (Twelve Angry Men)—You're about to say "what the heck, who is this, I don't know this man." Yes you fucking do. The second he talks, or should I say pathetically mews, you do. That's Piglet. If a man who speaks with the voice of Piglet in fucking "12 Angry Men"—who has to be an angry man with the voice of did i mention PIGLET— isn't pathetic I don't know what to tell you any more

Mantan Moreland (Mr. Washington Goes to Town, Cabin in the Sky)—i love mantan moreland SO. MUCH. and he is the pERFECT scrungly little guy!!!!! like a lot of black actors at the time he was always getting sidelined into small parts, but unusually he also managed to become a star in his own right and was almost one of the three stooges! he was a groundbreaking comedic actor known for his distinctive stare (very good for the horror movies he did), and he always is way more fun to watch on screen than anyone else. he had a famous double-act where he perfected this technique of non-conversations (where both people keep finishing each other's sentences before any actual information is conveyed). a lot of his movies are free on youtube and i really enjoy seeing him do his silly little guy thing in all of them!!! anyways yeah please include mantan he deserves some recognition as peak scrungle

This is round 1 of the contest. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. If you're confused on what a scrungle is, or any of the rules of the contest, click here.

[additional submitted propaganda + scrungly videos under the cut]

John Fiedler:

Mantan Moreland:

He just had a scrungly look about him and he played big with his roles so any of it became especially scrungly. Plus he was very funny in the way only scrungly people can be.

the FUNNEST GUY TO WATCH ON SCREEN. he was an immensely gifted physical comedian, able to convey loads with his eyes, and while some of his parts are so sad and cringeworthy, I feel like he always brought a humanity and humor that lifted them beyond cheap stereotype.

here's his double act in action!! [editor's note: Benson Fong cameo too!]

[beah388love]

Pregnancy swings are doubled…

18+ Minors DNI!!!

Full Masterlist Legend Masterlist

Pairing: Reggie Kray x Fem!Pregnant Reader

Summary: mood swings…

Warnings: Pregnancy,twins,swearing,arguing,shouting!!!(please tell me if I missed any!!!)

Reggie loves you, he fully head over heels for you.

And he knows it. Heck..everyone does.

If you asked him for anything he’d give it to you without hesitation.

Like for example.

“Reggie M’hungry” you said into his chest and he grinned.

“You just had two glasses of apple juice and three ice creams” he chuckled but you did not.

You took a lot of offence to that.

You began crying. “Well I’m sorry! I’m sorry I’m fat and look like a whale! I can’t even reach my toes or put my socks and shoes on!”

You cried as you pushed him off of you.

“Y/n! I didn’t mean it like that!” He said and you just glared at him through teary eyes.

“And you don’t look like a whale! And you’re not fat! Your beautiful and..your carrying two precious little boys in your stomach, so you have to eat for three..” he said holding your bump softly as he kissed you through his sentence.

“Mhm I know..I just feel so big..and annoying” you huffed but Reggie was just so confused.

I mean he thought you was beautiful before, but carrying his children.

You look angelic.

Even when you just wake up or in your sleep, you look magnificent.

How couldn’t you see it?

“Doll..you are absolutely fucking beautiful. And if you can’t see that then you’re crazy” he said looking into your eyes.

“Thank you Reggie” you smirked into his chest again hiding your face.

“Now..what was it your craving? Or should I say what are the twinnies craving?” He grinned and you smirked placing your finger on your chin thinking about the list you wanted.

Pizza? Ice cream? Pickles? All of them?

———

Or when Reggie and Ron poked the ‘mama bear’

You was already in a bad mood, you had none of your favourites sweets left and you got no sleep last night because the twins were kicking you and you big bump was in the way.

“Hello” Ron said as you walked into the carpenters arms after Reggie asked you to meet him there.

“Hey Ronnie” you smiled through your tiredness.

“You tired? You look it” Ron joked but you was not in the mood.

“Yeah I am. Thanks for the compliment” you snapped back

“Calm down doll, he was just joking” Reggie said softly as he gave you a kiss in your temple.

“M’ not in the mood” you huffed as you rested your head on Reggie’s shoulder, closing you eyes as you sighed.

“Yeah. have a sleep while we all work” Ron joked again and reg gave him a little warning glare but Ron grinned.

You huffed annoyed as you tried to ignore him.

“Ooh don’t poke the bear Ron” Leslie chuckled from the bar and you snapped.

“Shut the fuck up!” You shouted to Leslie and Ron and Reggie just sat back and let you get your anger out.

“I’m eating for three! Sleeping for three! I’m growing humans and not one but two! And your doing what?! Fuck all! So shut the fuck up.” You yelled and sighed in relief as you sat back and snuggled into Reggie’s side.

Ron was always impressed by how you wouldn’t take no shit. But Leslie was somewhat shitting himself.

“Well go home in a minute if you want?” Reggie whispered into your hair and you shook your head.

You didn’t want to make Reggie leave because you was tired and moody.

But Reggie didn’t care he wanted to leave ages ago anyway. And he wanted to make sure you had a nap, for yourself and the babies.

After about ten minutes Reggie stood up and cut Leslie off.

“Where are you going?!” Leslie threw his hand out confused and annoyed.

“Look, sought your plan out and come back to me tomorrow alright?” Reggie spoke up and Leslie nodded lightly.

“Good. C’mon doll” Reggie said softly as he helped you up and held a hand on the small of your back as he walked back home with you. You both joking to each other to kill the boredom.

Giving reg a little bit on the chest when he said something a little to dark but you still laughed.

So once you got home he put the telly on and got you as comfortable as he could, having you on your side watching the tv and you held you belly with one arm, underneath and Reggie massaged your bump from behind you.

Occasionally giving you a kiss on the head.

———

[bloopitynoot]

Reading SVSSS: Chapter 6

For those who don't know, I am reading SVSSS for the first time and sharing my thoughts!

If you have not read it, there will be spoilers! Consider this a warning.

Also- if you want to follow along, I am aiming to post updates daily. You can find all the posts in the tag bloopitynoot reads SVSSS. You can also check out the intro post for context on my read.

Here we are on book 2!

I took a couple days off because my body was perishing (read: my uterus was being a little bitch) but I am back :D

Today's tea is an apple crumble with milk and sugar and my little reading buddy (Charlie) has returned for this chapter Extra Needy and sporting his new necktie.

Let's get into this long chapter:

And we start three years later! I was wondering if there was going to be a time jump and there is! :) p9

Why is everyone so thirsty in this world RE: Ning YingYing p10

Oh dang. I really want to know what's making people melt into skeletons p13

Shen Qingqiu is such a vibe" I know I am physically useless, but i'm also a walking encyclopedia so I bring that to the party" p14 honestly same

So many corpses in the water!! p18

Oh shit, what the heck Wu Chen's legs? p22

RE: Wu Chen I did lol at "Great Master, you call this a bit uncomfortable?!" p 22

this totally feels more like a curse than a standard plague p24

why am I laughing so hard at "fuck me, with this speed, they wouldn't lose to a runner doing the 100-metre hurdles! 'Old Lady'? Yeah right! I must be blind!"p26

oooo! Gongyi Xiao is back! p28

Baby is back too!! Luo Binghe! pp29-31

omg and now there is a height difference! Shen qinqgiu being the smol one p32

Re: on the subject of thinking it was a curse like 15 pages ago, it is not a curse. I don't know why I thought it would be literally anything other than demons LOL this is the plot of the entire fictional universe of this book p37

Luo Binghe still only has eyes for Shen Qingqiu- even after being tossed into hell p38

I truly love the inner monologue of Shen Qingqiu's thoughts vs what people just kind of assume he's feeling. SQQ: Luo Binghe has brainwashed these disciples, he is definitely coming for me, I am fucked. Everyone else: this poor man misses his student so much, he is so hurt that Luo Binghe didn't go back to him.

LOL at Luo Binghe's hatefire at seeing SQQ and Gongyi Xiao bonding together p42

I can't XD SQQ: I have a huge announcement guys, Luo Binghe is back!!!! Everyone else: who tf is that? RIP p44

no shit that demonic activity increasing in frequency is 100% indeed a bad omen. p47

I'm crying SQQ thinks Luo BInghe is about to kill him p48

not the magpie bridge reference p50

This man is just crushing his windpipe for funsies -> why do I feel like this is their dynamic? p50

SQQ is actually an idiot. This fool is continuously operating under the assumption that nothing in the story has changed and the original story is guaranteed. If he heard these words and responded appropriately he'd probably be fine RE: "Then why did you tell me not to put too much weight on race and that no one is intolerable to the heavens" p55

Goddamn is Luo Binghe just going to keep beating the shit out of SQQ?? pp57-59

He really made him drink his blood (side note: when this is all said and done, I need to read some vampire aus) What even is that blood going to do to him?? (do not actually tell me, I assume I will find out soonish) p59

I am once again here to talk about how utterly Fucked SQQ is. He still has 0 idea that Luo Binghe has absolutely claimed him p65

Oh dang. Still, even after all this, SQQ has not shaken his original fate of being hated p69

Bro should have let Qi Qingyi finish that sentence. Re: out of his mind with grief" also probably would have changed some things (even if he was embarrassed as hell) p71

omg so much happening in this scene rn AND then Shen Qingqiu's ex shows up out of no where?!?!?!?!??!!? p73

this man truly cannot catch a break p75

holy shit not even his ex- his wife??????? p75

oop, we have SQQ backstory reveal p77

But also with this reveal: it's a little weird for her though. Like her family takes in this kid from the street, makes him a servant. He continues to serve them, his "family" starts to view him a sibling, AND THEN they get betrothed (not married). Like what. This is wild poor guy- weird because sibling dynamics, also he was their servant. I think she is the weird one honestly. p77

okay, well, he did kill her brother LOL p78

the water prison does not sound good. p81

he really wants to try and last a month there??? best of luck buddy, he cant even handle riding in a carriage without a snack p85

Bonus picture with no notes!

I'm actually so excited for the water prison- it sounds vile, but I need to know how he get's out/how his relationship with Luo Binghe progresses.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Asking Bid

Anselm Vogelweide x GN!Reader • Rating: PG •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist• ko-fi •

Summary: A new player at your bridge club is an awful cheat.

A/N: I don't know what this is. I was trying to write the 3rd chapter of Free Ride and instead, this happened. (Also asking bid in a bridge term, you don't need to know anything about the game to read this.)

Warnings: fluffy silliness, self-indulgent as HECK, over use of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 908

It was annoying really, that he had sat at your table. Even if it wasn’t your table really. 

You couldn’t help but think of it that way, you’d been coming to the bridge games on Tuesday evenings for the last sixteen weeks. And this was were you always sat. 

You’d started coming by accident, your Great Aunt Anne had been going for a little over three years, but had had to stop when she’d moved to be closer to your Uncle. She’d asked you to take a cake stand (a lavishly decorated china thing) to her friend, Rose, at the bridge club. Rose had always loved it apparently, and Anne had forgotten to give it to her on their last meeting. 

So you’d gone to drop it off, a five minute job. Somehow you’d been roped into this very serious business of card games and cake and tea that was usually more gin than water. 

Plus every single member was an absolute delight to be around. 

So you’d come back, week after week.

And it was the first time you’d seen him here. This stranger encroaching on your territory. 

Ilse had introduced him as her nephew Anselm, and then laughed at how he was technically her second cousin, twice removed, but that was far too much of a mouthful. 

Most of the others already knew him and greeted him with an endearing fondness, while they lavished him with slices upon slices of homemade cakes. 

He seemed nice enough when you’d shaken his hand and introduced yourself. Charming even, with his wild hair and little smile.

However, when the first games started, that was when the problems started to arise.

There was a squeak of metal when he moved. Which he did. A lot. More than a lot. More than could be considered just causal fidgeting. He was doing it on purpose, and after he and Ilse had won the first two hands you were sure it was a way for him to subtly signal her. 

His glasses as well were shaded with yellow on one side, quirky you’d thought at first, but now you were sure he was using them to hide his gaze when he tried to look at your cards. 

You scowled at him, moving your hand and holding them closer to your chest. 

The bastard grinned. He had the actual audacity to wink from behind his unclouded lens, practically admitting to his treachery. 

You glared back and he chuckled as he laid the seven of hearts. 

Despite your best efforts, the cheating pair won the next two games as well. 

There was a break for more tea, and cake, and gossiping if you were all really honest. 

And you just couldn’t help yourself. You made a beeline for him at the table that had been set up with baked goods the second Ilse had stepped away. 

“Hey,” you hiss, lightly touching his arm. 

He turned slowly, beaming at you like a trickster god as if he had just been waiting for you to approach. 

“Hello my dear, are you enjoying your evening? My dear Tante has spoken very greatly of you, as have all the other lovely players here.”

You’re taken aback for a moment by the sincere look he gives you, the intensity of his gaze not stifling but lifting, making you feel weightless. “I… erm…” You swallow, your annoyance quickly returning as his smile widens. “You’re cheating!” You growl. 

“Why,” he places his free hand on his chest, the other holding his cup and saucer carefully, “I am shocked, appalled even,” he continues to beam wildly. 

“Don’t give me that, I know you are!” You whisper. 

“You didn’t let me finish, my dear.” He takes a sip of his tea, watching you over the china cup, and then pulls his silk handkerchief out of his breast pocket to lightly dab at his lip. “I am shocked that you had the nerve to come over and say it to my face.” 

You tut and fold your arms, trying to hide the odd twist in your stomach and shiver along your spine. It’s strange, being this close to him. The energy that he exhumes. It’s like standing next to a tiger. Part of you screams to step away, while the other much louder part is too drunk on the thrill.

“Besides, everyone here cheats,” he gestures to the jam tarts, offering you one, you shake your head, “my dear Tante cheats the most of all.” 

“I know that.” 

“Then why are you so worked up, hmm?” He bites his lips together, leaning a fraction closer. 

There’s a pause in the air, he obviously knows why. But wants, so eagerly for you to be the one to say it. 

“Because…” You swallow.

“Because?” He repeats, adding a little sing song tone to it. 

“Because usually, my cheating is still better.” 

He chuckles, thoroughly amused. “Exactly what I thought, you are not used to losing, hmm?” 

You can’t help but smile a little, your shoulders relaxing. “Not really.” 

His grin widens, “well then, I know how to fix this.” He offers the crook of his arm. “We will have to play on the same team for the next set of games, won’t we?” 

His expression is infectious, untamed in his windswept glee. How can you refuse?

You gently slip your fingers onto his arm and his eyes shine. 

“Delightful.” He chuckles, “We will make quite the pair.” 

Thank you for reading!

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If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[leeknowsnot]

promises are meant to be broken, hearts are meant to be kept (i.n x reader)

genre: angst

warnings: slight mention of gaining a few pounds

sorry for the inactivity! i was really busy with irl stuff. plus, i've been applying in so much coffee shops just to get a part-time job, i can't even count how many anymore tbh

anyway, here's an i.n x reader to make up for the lost time.

pt. 2

"Do you even care about me?"

Your voice was like thin air. Entering his left ear and then slipping out through the other. You and Jeong In had been arguing for the past 20 minutes. About what? About him missing a date. Honestly, why were you even surprised? If not most of the time, he would sometimes forget that you two had something planned for the day. You would always get texts from him, saying he'd be out with the boys or just doing something, oblivious to the fact that he had kept you waiting for almost an hour or more at that fancy restaurant you two have been checking out the week prior.

It was getting tiring. And to top it all off, he even said he'd make it up to you so he promised to take you out to dinner tonight. Heck, you even put on that pretty dress you bought from last month, squeezing yourself in it, realizing that you've gained quite a few pounds after dejectingly looking at the mirror but managed to not look weird anyway—only for him to arrive home three hours later; sleepy, tired, irritated.

Well if he was tired, you were exhausted. If he was irritated, you were angry. It was the worst combination. Your anger wasn't the best sight for Jeong In right now, and Jeong In just shrugging off your concern as if it wasn't as big deal wasn't exactly the best response either.

So you stood there, hands on your waist as you gave him an expression of disbelief. He was rubbing his face with his palms, a tad bit closer to raising his voice at you but chose to exasperatedly sigh instead.

You let out a scoff, "Really, Jeong In?"

"What?" you could swear there was a hint of snap from his voice.

"I can't believe that out of us both, you had the right to sigh. Who's the one who keeps on getting stood out again?" you rolled your eyes at him, your eyebrows furrowing all throughout your whole sentence. It was now his turn to look at you in disbelief.

"Y/N please. I just got home from work and I'm really tired and stressed... It's not my fault that my boss made me stay for some over time," he defended. "It's not like I could say no anyway."

It irked you. You loved Jeong In so much you would move heaven and Earth for him, but God, it felt like his mere presence irritated you so much right now. His voice, his audacity, his reasoning.

It took you a bit of time clenching your knuckles, fighting the urge to just break down into tears and cry in front of him. "You're failing to see the point here, Jeong In! It's not just about today! You keep on making promises you can't keep. And you apologize, over and over and over and over again, it's so tiring!"

"Well, you'd rather I tell my boss no just so I could show up and possibly lose my job?"

At this point, his voice was starting to raise, making you flinch a bit. "You're being overly dramatic and selfish right now, Y/N."

That was it. That was the last straw.

You just stood there, silently as you bore your eyes into him. When you said nothing back, Jeong In realized he went too far. You tried to blink the tears away and you inhaled, your breath shaking as you exhaled. The look of disappointment you gave him made his heart clench.

He was stressed, you were stressed. Words have been thrown without any much though. And now, both of you have hurt each other.

"...I'm leaving," you whisper under your breath, hoping it came out as quiet as you wanted it to so Jeong In would barely hear. But he did hear it, and it broke his heart hearing you say those two words. Both of you knew this was something that you were saying out of emotion but he didn't want to risk the chances of you actually walking out the door and never returning again.

Jeong In stood from the bed, making his way to you. He tried to reach out for your hand but you avoided his touch. "Y/N, please..."

You could sense the immediate regret and guilt at his voice and it made you hurt more. But right now, it was too much. You turned your head away from him. You didn't want to look at him in the face. Because if you did, you know you'd throw out all reason aside and just give in and forget all the pain the both of you have caused each other. You loved Jeong In that much.

But you also hoped that Jeong In loved you as much too.

So you sighed and walked out the door, leaving Jeong In standing there, wanting nothing more than to take back his words as he was now left along with his thoughts. He was wrong, he was the one being selfish. And now, he couldn't even chase you out through the door because fatigue started to take over his body.

He didn't want to be tired. Of work, of everything. Of you. Especially you.

tag form will be up soon! like and reblog if you like it~