#we are going to be keeping this one around for A While i think

[dollfacefantasy]

caleb x fem!reader

you and caleb used to play fight a lot, but things are different now that you're older

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, fauxcest, dry humping

a/n: um hehe just a small drabble cause i've been thinking... also i like the pipsqueak thing idgaf kiss me about it. imagine this takes place when she’s staying with him.

"isn't this around the time you'd usually cry mercy, pipsqueak?" he breathes, his smooth voice warming the air next to your ear.

a small grunt escapes you as you try to lift your arm to shove him off. your effort is pointless though. his grip tightens around your wrist, and he brings your limb back down to the floor without much effort.

“caleb, quit it!” you whine.

he just laughs at you. his body doesn’t move away an inch. he stays right where he his, hovering over your smaller frame.

the two of you used to play fight all the time as kids. you’d squabble over the remote or your toys. whiny arguments would morph into a small scuffle, a test of wills. so it felt natural today to lunge at him when he held the book you wanted to read just out of reach. getting physical made sense. you’d been so agitated with him keeping you here, you needed to blow off some steam. it just didn’t feel so good when reality set in as he wrestled you down to the floor like always.

“it’s not funny,” you say and try to jam your knee up into his abs.

he dodges the move and continues to smirk at you. “maybe not to you. but it’s pretty funny from up here. pretty cute too,” he teases.

you scowl, squirming some more. in your younger years, you’d always been able to fight back a little. you’d lose in the end, sure, but victory had been in reach a few times. now, caleb is stronger. he’s bigger, and he doesn’t fight like a scrappy high school kid but rather someone with training. you’re starting to realize you have no chance now, and part of you wonders if you ever did. or maybe he’d been going easy on you.

as if to taunt you, he slides your arms up above your head and grabs both your wrists with one hand. even with his other one free, he keeps you pinned with the same amount of force. it’s fucking humiliating. you feel your cheeks starting to heat up as he drags the back of his fingers along your jaw, cooing at you.

“you always used to get so angry like this too. so frustrated. you’d think you would’ve learned not to start fights you can’t win,” he mocks.

his thumb comes to sweep along your cheekbone, back in forth in slow strokes. he stares into your eyes while he does, almost studying you. it gets you heated for a whole other reason you don’t even want to acknowledge.

“get off of me,” you squeak, your voice much less aggressive now.

“maybe i will if you beg enough,” he taunts, “if you use your manners and say please like a good girl, i’ll consider it.”

“shut up!” you say. you kick a few more times and buck your hips to try and get loose.

in response, he grabs your hip with his free hand and slams it back to the ground. you let out a little growl, assuming you’ll have to restrategize. but then he pushes his pelvis down on top of yours.

you gasp. all the fight leaves you in a harsh blow because now, unlike any of the other times you play fought with him, you feel a solid bulge pressing between your legs.

your eyes widen, and you sputter. you’re sure you look totally stupid right now. but you don’t know what else to do. there’s no question about it. he’s got a boner, and he’s rubbing it right up against you.

“i told you. you’re not gonna win. might as well surrender,” he says. he speaks in a completely even tone, as if nothing is different.

“c-caleb. what are you doing?” you start, “don’t be weird.”

“i’m not being weird,” he defends with feigned innocence, “we always used to mess around like this. what’s got you all shy now?”

you know why he’s asking. because he knows you won’t say it. the answer is so easy, yet you can’t bring the words to leave your lips.

“you know what,” you whine softly.

he chuckles and leans in even closer to your face. “maybe i do. but i don’t think that it’s weird. we’re not kids anymore. you can’t whine and wriggle around like that and expect me not to react,” he murmurs.

your heart beats harder in your chest. you can feel every thump. before you can say anything in return, he grinds his hips again, rolling his hardened length right up against you. and this time, it feels good.

“i- caleb- we can’t,” you whimper, biting your lip.

“we can’t? we can’t what? we’re not doing anything,” he says before grinning at you, “it doesn’t count if it’s over the clothes.”

you want to smack him, but both your arms are still immobile.

“it’s still weird. we’ve never- i don’t see you like this,” you insist, though the last statement is a complete lie.

he tsks and shakes his head before pushing his erection between your legs for another time. this one draws a whine out of you. his hips jump forward at the sound, but he doesn’t let his face show that burst of desire.

“what do you see me like then?” he whispers.

silence fills the air between the two of you as you fail to answer. you know what you see him as. you know your crush on him goes back years. you know what fantasies fill your head at night when you’re alone.

but you also know how you want to see him. what you’re supposed to see him as. what you’ve tried to limit his role to for so long.

“it’s ok,” he finally says, “i won’t make you say it if it’s that hard. but i know you like this. i know you, remember?”

he grinds against you again, but this time it’s not only once. now he sets himself into a rhythm, consistent swings of his hips against your center.

“i know when you’re happy, when you’re sad, when you’re ashamed,” he says, “i know when you want something, but you’re too scared to ask.”

ducking in, he kisses your neck. you moan in response, putting no effort into suppressing the noise now.

“that’s right, princess. your big brother knows you better than anyone, doesn’t he?” he coos mockingly.

“caleb!” you whine. you internally cringe at both titles, but outwardly, your face still contorts with pleasure.

“what?” he laughs, “that’s what you were gonna say before, wasn’t it?”

“but i didn’t,” you whimper.

“but you thought it, and it’s all the same to me,” he teases.

he refocuses his mouth on your neck again. his lips move over the column of your throat while his cock continues pressing right on your pussy. it feels better by the second. maybe it’s because he’s kissing your neck too, you’re not really sure. all you know is the hot, sparkling feeling in your stomach is building.

nipping at your pulse point, he then sucks on the skin like he wants to leave a mark. his tongue laves at it for a few moments before he pulls off.

“i’m gonna let go of your arms. you’re gonna behave, ok?” he mumbles against your skin.

“mhm,” you whimper and nod. the overt submission feels pathetic, but losing the feeling of him would be even worse.

“good girl,” he praises.

he keeps his word and releases his hold on your wrists. the air feels cool on your skin that’s all warmed up from his hands. now with his other arm in use, he can snake one around your ass and boost your hips. the new angle allows him to thrust against you harder.

“fuck, baby,” he grunts. you feel his lashes brush your neck as his eyes flutter.

your arms loop over his shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer. more little mewls spill from your lips. you can feel his stiff length sliding right up against your folds through your clothes. every swipe brings a blissful burst of friction to your poor throbbing clit.

“there you go. i got you. big brother’s got you,” he mumbles mindlessly. he chokes out a moan into your shoulder as his hips move like they have a mind of their own.

your body starts to squirm more. that hot feeling inside is reaching a boiling point. you clutch at his shirt, your nails digging in so hard they threaten to tear the fabric. the constant push and pull of his lower half is nearly hypnotic. it seems like you’ll be under him forever while also on the brink of letting go.

after a few moments more, he pulls back to look at you. his eyelids hang low, heavy with his desire for you.

“god, you’re so pretty. so fuckin’ beautiful now,” he says and presses his forehead to yours. his eyes shut while your breaths mingle. “i knew you wanted this too. just look at you. almost falling apart, and i haven’t even really touched you. i knew no one else could do this better.”

all you can do is whimper softly and cling to him harder. you pull on him as if trying to pull him into your body, to meld your two beings into one. the pressure down below feels dull and muted, but it’s blooming nonetheless.

“yeah… you’re gonna cum all over your pretty panties,” he mutters, “get ‘em all nice and wet so i can have some fun with ‘em later.”

“caleb…” you whine, useful words falling out of your grasp in this moment. one of your hands flies up and laces in his hair. your fingers clench into a fist, giving the strands a sharp tug.

he groans and bucks his hips extra hard. “c’mon. cum for me, baby. let me make my sweet little angel cum,” he murmurs.

it really doesn’t take much to get you there. the friction burn he’s rutting you both into works, and you feel yourself hit the high. euphoria rushes through you. a little breathy whine erupts from your lips. your back arches off the floor, but he keeps you cradled against him securely.

the whole time you’re cumming, he’s still humping you like his life depends on it. it’s when you start to come down, that he finally explodes. he buries his face in your neck, letting out the loudest moan you’ve heard so far. his arms tighten up around your frame as his fingers dig into your malleable flesh.

his hips jolt forward in random twitches now, chasing the last remnants of release while he spills inside his pants.

when he’s done, his breaths are harsh and labored. he nuzzles the crook of your neck before kissing your cheek and receding off your body. his palm runs over his face lazily.

“fuck, i gotta change now,” he says, not bothering to look down at the dark patch at the front of his pants.

without even really thinking about it, you reach forward for the waistline. you’re already craving more of him. but before your hand can get there, he takes your wrist.

“not so fast, pipsqueak. i think you should actually beat me before i let you have the real thing,” he smirks.

[nerdycheol]

Love, On Air || Choi Seungcheol (valentine's special)

♡ Pairing: choi seungcheol x f!reader

♡ Genre: best friends to lovers, romance, fluff, slice of life

♡ Word Count: 7.8k

note: Happy Valentine’s Day! 💖 This is a special Valentine’s edition based on the poll results(so if you voted—congrats, you manifested this 👀). A massive shoutout to @facethesunflower for proofreading and making sure this didn’t turn into a total disaster. 😆 Hope you enjoy this fluffy, slightly dramatic, finally-they-confess moment.

Remember: if your best friend is acting suspiciously like Cherry… maybe it’s time to connect the dots. 👀💕

The clock hits 9 PM. You take a deep breath, adjusting the headphones on your ears as the familiar hum of the radio booth wraps around you. The room is small, dimly lit by the soft glow of the equipment and the neon sign flashing LIVE on the wall. 

"Alright, we’re live in 3... 2... 1..."

Your hand hovers over the soundboard as you smile into the mic. 

"Good evening, lovely listeners, and welcome back to The Heartbeat Hour, your go-to late-night show where we talk all things love, relationships, and everything in between," you say, your voice smooth and warm, like a cozy blanket on a cold night. "I’m your host, __ , and tonight is extra special because we’re in the heart of Valentine’s week. So, buckle up, folks—this week’s all about confessions, crushes, and, of course, giving you some advice to help you sort through your feelings."

You press the button for the first song request, the soft strains of a romantic ballad filling the room. As the music plays in the background, your eyes scan the requests that have been flooding in. The chat box is constantly ticking with messages—listeners asking for advice, sharing their love stories, or seeking songs that speak to their hearts. You feel that rush, the adrenaline of knowing you’re connected to so many people in real time.

"Now, I’ve got a message here from a listener who needs a little help," you say, pulling up the request. "This one’s from 'Cherry,' who writes in: ‘I’ve been crushing on someone for a while, but I’m not sure how to confess. Any advice?’"

You let out a small breath, your fingers tapping rhythmically on the desk as you think. This one’s a classic. You've seen it all before, but every confession still feels fresh. You smile softly into the mic.

"Ah, 'Cherry,' I get it. Confessing your feelings can be scary, but it’s also one of the most real things you can do. Here’s my advice: Keep it simple. No need for grand gestures, no elaborate speeches. Sometimes, the best way to let someone know how you feel is through a small, sincere gesture. Maybe write a note or give them a little gift that shows you’ve been thinking about them. And when you tell them how you feel, just be honest—there’s no such thing as a perfect confession. Just be you."

You pause, feeling the warmth of the words settle into your heart. The music swells in the background, adding to the ambiance of the moment.

"Remember, 'Cherry,' it’s not about getting it perfect—it’s about being brave enough to say it. And hey, the worst that can happen is they don’t feel the same way. But you know what? You’ve still won because you were true to yourself. So take a deep breath and go for it. You got this.”

You let the silence linger for a moment, Cherry’s words still hanging in the air. Then, with a small smile, you reached for the controls.

"Alright, Cherry, and everyone out there holding onto feelings they haven’t found the words for—this one’s for you. Maybe it’ll give you the courage to say what’s in your heart, or at the very least, remind you that you’re not alone."

With a soft click, the studio filled with the delicate, wistful melody of "From the start" by Laufey—a song that is the ultimate friends to lovers song for all delusional daydreams.

Leaning back in your chair, you glanced out at the city lights reflecting against the glass. Somewhere, maybe Cherry was listening, hesitating over a letter they weren’t sure they’d ever send. Or maybe, just maybe, they had already begun writing.

After an hour of song requests, confessions, and quiet laughter shared through the airwaves, the LIVE sign dims. You take off your headphones, stretching your neck as the studio falls into silence. Another night, another show wrapped up.

Gathering your notes, you stack them neatly before grabbing your now-lukewarm latte from the desk. The faint chatter of coworkers drifts through the halls—other RJs wrapping up, producers discussing schedules.

"Great show tonight, ___," someone calls out in passing.

"Thanks! See you tomorrow!" you reply with a small smile, pulling on your coat.

Near the exit, your producer glances up. "Don’t forget—tomorrow’s segment is longer for the Valentine’s special. Get some rest!"

"Got it. Night, everyone!"

Pushing open the station doors, you step into the cool night air. The city hums in the distance, but here, it’s quiet—still. You take a slow sip of your latte, savoring the warmth against the crisp breeze.

And then, just a few steps away, you see him.

Leaning against his car, hands tucked into his coat pockets, Seungcheol watches you. The street lamp casts a soft glow over him, catching the faint curve of his lips.

You stop in front of Seungcheol, raising an eyebrow. "What are you doing here?"

He tilts his head, acting like it’s the most casual thing in the world. "I was just passing through."

You narrow your eyes. "Passing through? Your workplace is nowhere near here."

"Okay, fine," he chuckles, pushing himself off the car. "I thought I’d pick you up. It’s been a while since we had dinner together."

"Ah, I see. You missed me." You smirk, taking another sip of your latte.

"Don’t flatter yourself, " he scoffs, but the amusement in his eyes gives him away.

You let out a laugh, shaking your head before walking around the car. "Alright, alright. Let’s go before you start crying about how I never have time for you."

He pulls open the passenger door for you with a teasing bow. "Your chariot awaits, my lady."

Rolling your eyes at his theatrics, you slip inside, and he shuts the door before making his way to the driver’s seat.

As he starts the engine, Seungcheol glances at you. "Nice show today."

You blink. "Oh? What’s up, Choiseung? You’re complimenting me?" You raise an eyebrow, grinning.

He scoffs, shaking his head. "Forget it. Should’ve just let you believe no one listens to your rambling at night."

"Too late. I’m taking this to heart forever," you joke, leaning back in your seat.

A few minutes into the drive, Seungcheol reaches into his coat pocket and hands you a neatly folded envelope.

"Here."

You glance at it, then at him. "What’s this?"

"Just open it."

Curious, you unfold the letter inside. His familiar handwriting stretches across the page, carefully written, filled with warmth. It’s a simple note—thanking you for being in his life, for always listening, for just being you.

Your heart softens as you read.

"Ohh, Cheol... this is so sweet. Thank you so much, friend." You smile, touched by the gesture.

The moment the word leaves your lips, he freezes—just for a second.

Then, with a short nod, he looks away, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter.

"Yeah… friend." His voice is light, but something about it feels off.

You don’t notice. Or maybe, you just don’t understand.

"Hm? Did you say something?"

"Nothing," he clears his throat, turning into a street. "We should hurry before the restaurant gets packed."

You let it go, tucking the letter safely into your bag as the city lights blur past.

Dinner is simple—warm bowls of stew and easy conversation. You catch up on each other’s lives, laugh over childhood memories, and argue over who should pay the bill (which Seungcheol wins, as always). It’s comfortable, familiar—just like it’s always been.

But every now and then, Seungcheol watches you with something unreadable in his gaze. Something just beneath the surface.

Later, he pulls up in front of your place.

"Thanks for dinner, Choiseung." You grin, unbuckling your seatbelt.

"Yeah, yeah. You can pay next time."

"I’ll believe that when it happens." You laugh, stepping out of the car. "Goodnight!"

He waits until you disappear inside, only driving off once your lights flicker on.

And then he waits.

Seated in his car, he watches as your silhouette moves around the room. It’s only when your lights finally turn off that he exhales, rubbing the back of his neck before driving away into the quiet night.

The next day passes in a blur of work, coffee, and the usual routine. You go through meetings, reply to emails, and try not to fall asleep at your desk. It’s just another regular day—until night falls, and you’re back in the studio, headphones on, mic live, slipping into the comfort of your show.

"And that was 'Moonlight' to set the mood for tonight," you say, adjusting the volume on the console. "Now, let’s see what’s on your mind, listeners. Late-night confessions, random thoughts, love letters—I'm here for it all."

A familiar name pops up in the chat, and you smile.

"Ah, a message from ‘Cherry’ again," you muse, skimming through it.

"So, Cherry says: ‘I wrote them my feelings, but I feel like they didn't get the hint. Any advice?’”

You lean back, thoughtful.

"Confessions are tricky, aren’t they? But if words feel too heavy, why not try something else?"

You pause, then smile.

"Here’s an idea—make a playlist. Fill it with songs that subtly express your feelings, and share it with them. You can name it something meaningful, like ‘For You’ or ‘Songs That Remind Me of You.’ Maybe they’ll get the hint, maybe they won’t, but either way… music has a way of saying what we can’t."

A soft melody plays as you set up the next song, your voice lowering.

"Speaking of confessions… Cherry, this one’s for you."

___

After the show, you gather your things, stretching as the familiar hum of the studio fades into the quiet of the night. Stepping outside, the cool air brushes against your skin—and there he is, leaning against his car, arms crossed, waiting.

"You again?" You arch a brow, teasing.

Seungcheol smirks. "What can I say? Madam needs her personal chauffeur." He pushes off the car, opening the door for you with a playful grin.

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you slide in. "More like my chauffeur needs his daily dose of validation."

He chuckles, shutting the door before rounding the car. "Can you blame me? Gotta make sure my most important passenger gets home safe."

You shake your head, biting back a smile as he starts the engine. The familiar warmth of routine settles between you, comfortable and unspoken.

As you drive, soft music fills the space—a melody unfamiliar yet strangely intimate. You pause, listening. It’s not his usual sound. Gone are the heavy beats and sharp rhythms he prefers. Instead, the speakers hum with gentle tunes, lyrics drenched in longing.

You glance at him, amusement flickering in your gaze. "Since when did your taste in music change this much?"

His fingers flex over the steering wheel, eyes fixed on the road. "Dunno. Just felt like switching things up."

You hum along absentmindedly, letting the melody wrap around you, comforting in ways you don’t fully understand.

Seungcheol exhales quietly, gripping the wheel a little tighter, sneaking a glance your way. Because this playlist isn’t just a mix of songs—it’s a confession. One he can only hope you’ll hear.

As Seungcheol pulls up in front of your place, he shifts the car into park but doesn’t make a move to unlock the doors just yet. Instead, he drums his fingers against the steering wheel, stealing a glance your way.

"__, since tomorrow’s the weekend... you wanna hang out?" His voice is casual, but there’s something just a little hesitant in the way he says it.

You turn to him, brows raised. "Sure. Where?"

Seungcheol clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck as he looks away. "Nothing much… just the amusement park. Maybe a café after, y’know."

You blink before breaking into a small smile. "Huh, it’s been a while since we’ve gone there."

He nods, still avoiding your eyes. "Yeah. Thought it might be fun."

You tilt your head, watching him for a second before nudging his arm. "Well, if you’re paying, I’m definitely in."

He scoffs, rolling his eyes but grinning nonetheless. "Yeah, yeah. Just don’t go overboard with the snacks."

You laugh, reaching for the door handle. "No promises. See you tomorrow, Choiseung."

As you step out, he waits, watching until your lights flicker on inside. Only then does he drive off, the soft hum of the playlist still playing in the background.

The next day, the weekend air carries a hint of excitement as you step outside, spotting Seungcheol waiting by his car. Dressed casually in a hoodie and jeans, he looks effortlessly relaxed—except for the way he keeps checking his phone, as if trying to act nonchalant.

"Wow, you’re actually on time today," you tease, walking up to him.

He scoffs, sliding his phone into his pocket. "Please, I was born punctual."

You snort. "Sure, if 'punctual' means making me wait at least ten minutes every time."

Seungcheol rolls his eyes but opens the car door for you anyway, his usual playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Just get in, before I make you walk to the amusement park."

You laugh, sliding in as he rounds the car. Soon, you're both on the road, the soft hum of music playing in the background.

"So, what’s the plan, tour guide?" you ask, glancing at him.

He shrugs, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. "Nothing fancy. Just rides, food, and you trying not to chicken out on the roller coasters."

You gasp dramatically. "Excuse you, I do not chicken out—"

"You literally backed out last time," he deadpans, making you groan in protest.

The banter continues, filling the car with laughter as the amusement park comes into view, the vibrant lights and distant screams of thrill-seekers setting the perfect scene for the day ahead.

As Seungcheol parks the car, you glance at the towering rides ahead, the excited chatter of parkgoers filling the air.

"Alright, where to first?" he asks, stretching as he steps out of the car.

You scan the park, lips pursed in thought before pointing towards the roller coasters with a challenging grin. "Since you’re so confident, let’s start with that."

His eyes widen for a split second before he huffs. "I wasn’t the one who backed out last time, remember?"

You laugh, linking your arm with his and pulling him along. "Exactly. Time to redeem myself."

The line moves faster than expected, and soon, you're seated, the bar locking in place. You grip the handles tightly, sneaking a glance at Seungcheol. He looks relaxed, but the way he exhales deeply before the ride starts doesn’t go unnoticed.

The moment the coaster shoots forward, your screams mix with laughter, adrenaline rushing through your veins as you grip the bar for dear life. When it finally slows, you glance at Seungcheol, only to see him looking at you instead of the ride’s descent.

"What?" you ask, breathless.

He shakes his head, a small, fond smile on his lips. "Nothing. Just glad you didn’t chicken out this time."

You roll your eyes, nudging him playfully as you both step off the ride, your legs slightly wobbly from the rush.

The day continues with more rides, playful bets on who can win the most arcade games (he cheats, you swear), and an unnecessary but hilarious attempt at a claw machine.

"Face it, I'm just naturally gifted," he boasts, tossing you a small stuffed bear.

"Naturally full of it, maybe," you grumble, but take the bear anyway, hugging it to your chest.

Finally, as the night settles, you both find yourselves on the Ferris wheel, the gentle hum of the ride filling the comfortable silence. The city sprawls below, glowing under the streetlights, and in the distance, fireworks begin to bloom in the sky.

"Didn’t think today would be this fun," you admit, leaning back against the seat, the cool glass behind you a contrast to the warmth in your chest.

Seungcheol glances at you, something unreadable in his expression. He exhales softly, his fingers tapping against his knee.

"Yeah... I, uh—" He hesitates, licking his lips, his voice quieter now. "There's actually something I—"

But before he can finish, a particularly loud firework crackles in the sky, painting the cabin in flickering colors. You turn quickly, eyes lighting up as you take in the view.

"Oh, look at that one! It’s so pretty" you say, completely missing the way Seungcheol sighs, his half-spoken words swallowed by the moment.

He leans back, running a hand through his hair, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

"Yeah," he murmurs, gaze lingering on you instead of the fireworks. "It is pretty."

Eventually, you both find yourselves at a cozy café just outside the park, the scent of coffee and pastries filling the air.

After placing your order, Seungcheol suddenly pushes back his chair. “Be right back,” he says, flashing a quick smile before heading toward the counter.

You don’t think much of it, scrolling through your phone until the waiter returns with your drinks. As they set your cup down, you notice the delicate heart design floating atop the foam.

You tilt your head, stirring it slightly with your spoon. “Oh? Is this some kind of Valentine’s special?” you ask, amused. “Did you get one too?”

Seungcheol, who’s just returned to his seat, glances at his own plain coffee and shrugs. “Yeah… no.”

You raise a brow. “Huh. Guess they just like me more.”

He chuckles, taking a sip of his drink, but you don’t notice the way he hides his small, satisfied smile. Because the truth is, he had asked for that heart—just for you.

//

The next evening, the soft glow of the studio lights casts a warm hue as you settle into your seat, adjusting your headphones. Outside, the city hums with life, but a sudden downpour has turned the streets into shimmering reflections of neon signs.

"Looks like we’re in for an unexpected downpour tonight," you say, adjusting your headphones with a small chuckle. "So if you're heading home, grab an umbrella—or better yet, find someone who’ll share theirs with you—if not, maybe this is your chance for a classic movie moment. You know, the whole ‘one umbrella, two people’ thing."

With a quick tap, you queue up a slow, dreamy melody.

"Wherever you are tonight—rushing through the rain or just watching it fall—I hope this keeps you warm. Stay safe out there." As the song plays, you sit back, stretching your arms with a sigh. 

As the show wraps up, you take off your headphones, letting out a small sigh as the last song fades into silence. The studio, once filled with the hum of voices and music, now feels still. Gathering your things, you push open the door, stepping into the quiet hallway.

Outside, the rain still falls in soft sheets, blurring the glow of streetlights. You pause near the entrance, rummaging through your bag. No umbrella. Right. You meant to bring one this morning, but in the rush, it completely slipped your mind.

 You pause at the entrance, contemplating making a run for it, when a familiar voice calls out.

"Figured you’d forget yours."

You blink as Seungcheol steps forward, holding out an umbrella, his usual smirk in place. His hair is slightly damp, his coat dusted with droplets, like he had hurried here without much thought.

A small flutter, barely noticeable, stirs in your chest. You shake it off with a teasing smile. "What, no chauffeur duty today?"

He chuckles, tucking a hand into his pocket. "Uhh, not tonight. I have to stay late for that project."

You tilt your head, a little surprised. "So you came all the way here just to give me this?" You motion toward the umbrella in your hand.

"Yeah," he says simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Before you can say anything else, his phone buzzes. He glances at the screen, sighs, then looks back at you. "I gotta go. Text me when you get home, okay?"

You nod, watching as he jogs toward his car, the red taillights fading into the rain.

For a moment, you just stand there, gripping the umbrella a little tighter. You don’t know why, but the weight of it in your hands feels different.

Then, shaking off the thought, you open it and step into the rain, heading home.

//

As morning arrives, the first thing that comes to mind is Seungcheol. You blink at your phone, thumb hovering over his contact.

Texting him isn’t anything new—you’ve done it countless times before. But for some reason, tonight, it feels… different. Maybe it’s your coworker’s words still echoing in your head, or maybe it’s the way he’s been occupying your thoughts more than usual.

Before you can overthink it, you start typing.

You: Did you get home okay?

A second passes. Then another. You bite your lip, debating whether to add something else.

You: And did you even sleep well? Don’t tell me you stayed up all night working.

You press send before hesitation can creep in. Almost instantly, the dots appear.

Seungcheol: Wow, checking up on me? I must be special.

You roll your eyes, already imagining the smug grin on his face.

You: Forget I asked.

Seungcheol: Wait, wait— I did sleep. Kinda. Had a long day, but I’m home now.

You: Good. Don’t overwork yourself.

Your fingers hover over the screen for a beat before you add one last message.

This time, he takes a little longer to respond.

Seungcheol: You too.

You lock your phone, exhaling softly as you sink into your pillow.

Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe you’re just overthinking. But the warmth unfurling in your chest suggests otherwise.

At work, the usual hum of chatter fills the office. You’re halfway through your emails when a coworker slides into the seat beside you, a teasing grin already in place.

"I saw you yesterday," they start, leaning in slightly. "With a guy. Was he your boyfriend?"

Your fingers freeze over the keyboard.

"What? No!" The denial is immediate, instinctive. Too quick. You clear your throat, forcing a casual shrug. "Just a friend."

Your coworker chuckles, clearly amused. "Mmm, sure. You should’ve seen your face just now."

You scoff, shaking your head. "Oh, please. It’s not like that."

They raise an eyebrow, smirking as they lean against your desk. "Right. Just a friend, huh?"

You roll your eyes, waving them off, but as they walk away, their words linger.

Just a friend. 

You’ve said it a hundred times before. So why does it feel different now?

The soft glow of the studio lights wraps around you like a familiar embrace as you settle in for another night on air. The playlist hums in the background, filling the quiet spaces between your thoughts as you scroll through messages from listeners.

One catches your eye.

“I think I’ve fallen for my best friend. It wasn’t sudden—more like a slow, creeping realization. One day, I caught myself smiling at my phone just because they texted me. I don’t know if they feel the same, and I’m scared to lose what we have. What do I do?"

You hesitate for a moment, the words settling heavier than they should. There’s a flicker of something familiar in them, something that makes you sit up a little straighter.

You take a breath and lean toward the mic. “That’s… complicated,” you begin, your voice even, steady. “Falling for a best friend is tricky. It sneaks up on you when you least expect it. One day, they’re just… them. The same person they’ve always been. And then suddenly, everything feels different.”

Your breath catches slightly. A part of you wants to laugh at the timing, but instead, you clear your throat and lean into the mic.

You exhale softly, fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of your notes. "I think the scariest part isn’t even confessing—it’s the thought of what happens after. What if they don’t feel the same? What if things change? But… at the same time, isn’t it worth knowing? Isn’t it better than wondering ‘what if’ forever?"

The words come naturally, maybe a little too naturally, and you catch yourself mid-sentence, blinking at the realization. Your fingers tighten slightly around the papers in front of you.

You shake it off with a light laugh. "Anyway, I’m not a love expert. But if you’re listening… maybe ask yourself this—would you rather take the risk or live with the regret?"

As the segment transitions, you queue up the next song, the soft melody of Can't Help Falling in Love by Kina Grannis filling the airwaves. A bittersweet smile tugs at your lips as you lean back in your chair, staring at the ceiling.

//

The idea of a team dinner had been floating around the office for weeks, but it wasn’t until today that your producer finally put his foot down.

“We’re going,” he declared, arms crossed as he leaned against your desk. “No more excuses, no more ‘let’s do it next week.’ Tonight, we eat.”

Your coworker snickered, spinning lazily in their chair. “You just don’t want to go home and cook.”

“Exactly,” he admitted shamelessly. “Besides, it’s been a while since we all hung out outside of work. You in?”

You hesitated for a beat, glancing at your screen before sighing. It wasn’t like you had anything better to do. “Yeah, I’m in.”

And that was that. A few hours later, you found yourself walking toward the restaurant with the rest of your team, the air buzzing with conversation. Your producer was still arguing about food, insisting that this place was “decent at best” while another team member defended it with an almost personal level of passion.

You laughed at their banter, falling into step behind them—until something made you slow down.

A familiar figure stood just outside the restaurant, hands tucked into his coat pockets. Even before he turned, you knew who it was.

Seungcheol.

Your brows lifted slightly in amusement. “Are you a stalker?” you teased as you approached. “You’re literally everywhere I go.”

He turned toward you, chuckling under his breath. “No, I’m here with someone. My cli—”

“Shall we go?”

The voice belonged to a woman who stepped up beside him, her posture poised, her tone polite. She looked… elegant. The kind of effortless elegance that didn’t even need to try.

Your gaze flickered between them, something unreadable tightening in your chest before you smoothed your expression. “Who…”

The woman met your eyes and smiled. “Oh, I’m Lee Hana. I’m working with Seungcheol on a project.”

You nodded, lips curving into something light, something easy, even as something else tugged inside you. “Right. Nice to meet you.”

Seungcheol’s gaze lingered on you for a second longer than it should. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh,” you blinked, shifting slightly. “Our team is having dinner.” You motioned toward the restaurant behind you. “You know, bonding and all that.”

He nodded, but before he could say anything else, Hana touched his arm lightly. “Shall we?”

There was a pause—brief, barely there—before he cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah.” Then he glanced at you again. “Bye, then. Have fun.”

And then he was gone, walking away with her at his side.

You watched them leave, something unspoken pressing against your ribs. It’s not jealousy, you told yourself. Not really. But the feeling stayed anyway.

A voice broke through your thoughts. “Oh, isn’t he the umbrella guy?”

You turned to see your coworker standing beside you, glancing after Seungcheol with mild curiosity before their gaze shifted back to you. “Did he come here with a woman?”

You said nothing, but that seemed to be enough of an answer.

They hummed knowingly. “You really must be just friends.” And with that, they walked inside.

You stayed there a second longer, staring at the spot where Seungcheol had just been, before shaking yourself out of it and following them in.

The night air is crisp as you walk back home, the sounds of the city buzzing softly in the background. Your team dinner had ended a while ago, but instead of feeling full and satisfied, there’s a strange heaviness in your chest—a weight you don’t quite understand.  

As you turn the corner to your apartment complex, you slow down, your steps faltering.  

There, leaning against his car with his arms crossed, is Seungcheol.  

Your brows knit together. “What are you doing here?”  

At your voice, he straightens, slipping his hands into his pockets. “You didn’t look well back at the restaurant,” he says, his tone light but laced with something else—concern, maybe. “So, I thought I’d check on you.”  

You blink at him. “You drove all the way here for that?”  

He shrugs. “It’s not far.”  

Liar. His office is nowhere near your place.  

There’s a brief pause. The usual banter is on the tip of your tongue, but for some reason, the words don’t come out as easily tonight. Maybe it’s because he actually showed up. Maybe it’s because you don’t know what to do with the way your heart stutters at the sight of him standing there, waiting for you.  

You shift your weight. “Do you… want to come in for coffee?”  

At that, he chuckles, shaking his head. “Coffee? At this time?” He tilts his head at you, amused. “You must really hate me if you don’t want me to sleep tonight.”  

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Then I’ll give you plain water. Just come in.”  

His lips twitch into a smirk before he pushes himself off the car. “If you insist.”  

And just like that, he follows you inside.  

The door clicks shut behind you as you step inside, flipping on the lights. The familiar warmth of your home settles around you, but with Seungcheol standing in your living room, it suddenly feels… different.

“You can sit,” you say, gesturing vaguely to the couch as you move toward the kitchen.

He hums in response, wandering over but not immediately sitting down. Instead, he looks around, eyes flickering to the small details of your space—the stack of books on the coffee table, the blanket draped lazily over the couch, the half-full cup on the counter from this morning.

“By the way,” you start, keeping your voice casual as you pour warm milk, “who was that woman earlier?”

Seungcheol hums in acknowledgment, but when he answers, it’s after a slight pause. “Just a client. I’m handling a project for her company.”

“Ah.” You nod, stirring the coffee a little too forcefully. “Looked like you guys were close.”

He lets out a small laugh. “Are you interrogating me right now?”

You scoff, bringing the mugs over to the table and handing him one. “No. Just making conversation.”

You drop onto the couch beside him, curling your legs under you. He’s been here so many times before, and yet tonight, the usual comfort feels a little different—like you’re hyper-aware of the way he leans back, his long legs stretched out in front of him, the way he watches you over the rim of his mug.

“You seemed off earlier,” he says after a beat. “Something wrong?”

“No,” you lie, but even you don’t sound convinced.

Seungcheol doesn’t press, just tilts his head slightly, studying you like he’s figuring out a puzzle. “If you say so.”

After a while, he stretches, glancing at the time. “I should go.”

You nod, following him to the door. He lingers for a second, hands shoved in his pockets.

“Text me when you wake up, yeah?”

You frown. “Why?”

He shrugs. “Just ‘cause.”

You roll your eyes, but something about the way he’s looking at you makes your chest tighten. “Fine.”

He smirks. “Good.”

And then, with a small wave, he’s gone.

You stand there for a second, staring at the closed door, fingers curling tightly around your cup.

The theater is dim, the soft glow from the screen casting flickering lights across Seungcheol’s face. The film has barely begun, but the hum of quiet conversations and the rustling of popcorn bags fill the space around you.

You’re not sure who suggested this movie. Maybe he did. Maybe you did. Maybe it was just one of those things—where he casually texted, "Movie?" and you didn’t even think before replying, "Sure."

The movie plays, but your focus wavers. You’re aware of him. Of the way his shoulder is just barely brushing yours. The way his fingers drum lazily against his knee. The way he shifts slightly every now and then, getting comfortable.

And then, his hand moves to the popcorn bag between you.

Your fingers accidentally graze his. Just for a second.

You don’t think much of it—until it happens again.

The second time, neither of you pull away immediately. It’s not intentional, not deliberate. Just… a pause. A moment that lingers for a beat too long before he finally retracts his hand.

Your pulse stutters, but you keep your expression neutral.

A few more scenes pass. You’re getting lost in the film when suddenly—

A jump scare.

It’s sudden enough that your breath catches, and before you can stop yourself, your hand darts out, grasping the closest thing—his arm.

Seungcheol doesn’t move. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t say a word. Just glances down at your fingers curled around his sleeve.

You realize what you’ve done a second too late. Heat creeps up your neck as you start to pull away.

But then—

His arm shifts just slightly, just enough that your hand slides from his sleeve to his wrist, fingertips brushing against his skin.

You don’t move. Neither does he.

The moment stretches, unspoken, unacknowledged. Not quite intentional. But not exactly not intentional, either.

And suddenly, the movie is the least interesting thing in the room.

The movie ends, and the crowd slowly shuffles toward the exits. You stretch your arms as you step out of the dimly lit theater, the cool night air greeting you.

"That wasn’t as scary as I thought," you say, glancing at Seungcheol.

He scoffs, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Sure. That explains why you nearly ripped my sleeve off."

You roll your eyes, nudging him lightly with your elbow. "That was one time."

He smirks. "Uh-huh. And what about the other time? And the time after that?"

You narrow your eyes at him, but there’s no real bite behind it. He’s enjoying this way too much.

"Okay, whatever. Where are we eating?" You change the subject swiftly, and Seungcheol hums, pretending to think.

"Ramen?" he suggests.

Your stomach growls at the mention of food, and you nod. "Sounds good."

It’s a short walk to the small ramen shop tucked away on a quieter street. The place is cozy, warm, and familiar—one of those late-night spots you’ve both ended up in more times than you can count. The moment you step inside, the comforting aroma of broth and spices fills the air.

Seungcheol orders for both of you, as he always does, rattling off your usual without even asking. The cashier doesn’t even blink, already used to it by now.

You shake your head with a small smile. "One day, I’m going to switch things up just to mess with you."

He leans against the counter, grinning. "No, you won’t."

He’s right, and you hate that he knows it.

The two of you settle into a booth, the conversation flowing easily between bites of food. Seungcheol steals a piece of your fish cake without asking. You retaliate by swiping a sip of his drink. It's effortless, familiar.

By the time you step back outside, the streets are quieter. The late hour drapes the city in a peaceful hush, the occasional headlights casting long shadows on the pavement.

Neither of you say much as you walk, but it isn’t an awkward silence. Just the kind that lingers when words aren’t needed.

At some point, Seungcheol slows his pace, falling into step beside you instead of slightly ahead.

The street lights flicker above, the air crisp but not too cold. You rub your hands together out of habit.

A beat passes before Seungcheol exhales through his nose and, without a word, reaches out.

His hand brushes yours, just barely.

You think it might be an accident until he does it again.

This time, he doesn’t move away.

And neither do you.

The apartment is quiet when you step inside, the familiar space wrapping around you like a well-worn blanket. You toe off your shoes, set your bag down, and exhale, as if the night still clings to your skin. The soft hum of the refrigerator is the only sound filling the air, but your mind is anything but quiet.

You wander into the kitchen on autopilot, reaching for a glass, but your fingers hesitate over the cabinet handle. The thought slips in, uninvited.

What if he already knows?

The question lingers, settling into the corners of your mind like an echo. You shake your head as if that alone could shove it away, but it doesn’t work.

Maybe it’s the way he laughed tonight—soft, genuine, like the sound itself belonged to you. Or the way he leaned in closer, just enough that his warmth almost touched you. Maybe it’s nothing at all, just the way he exists around you—familiar, steady, yet suddenly… different.

You close your eyes for a moment, trying to chase the feeling away, but it’s stubborn. Because now that you’ve noticed it, you can’t unsee it. Every teasing remark, every lingering glance, every small, meaningless moment—it’s all been leading to this.

And the worst part?

You don’t even know when it started.

You sink onto the couch, pressing the cool glass against your palm, grounding yourself. You try to convince yourself it’s nothing. You’ve always been close. He’s always been there.

But tonight, when his hand brushed yours and he didn’t pull away… when he said goodnight like he meant something else…

Your heart had stuttered.

You bite your lip, staring at the ceiling, willing your heartbeat to settle.

...What if he already knows?

//

The studio is quiet except for the soft hum of the equipment. The city lights flicker through the window, casting faint shadows against the booth. You scroll through the messages, eyes landing on a familiar name.

Cherry.

“I tried everything you said—gave them a letter, took them out, spent so much time together. And honestly? I swear they like me too. But… nothing. What do I do?"

You let out a breath, tapping your fingers lightly against the desk.

"Okay, first of all—don’t give up. I know it’s frustrating when someone doesn’t read between the lines, but sometimes, people need things to be said plainly. No metaphors, no subtlety. Just… real words."

You lean back slightly, eyes flickering toward the dim window of the booth, where the city blurs in the distance.

"Because here’s the thing—what if they do feel the same way? What if they’re just as scared as you are? Wouldn’t you rather know than spend your days wondering?"

The words come easily, almost too easily, and for a split second, you wonder if you’re really just talking to Cherry anymore.

You exhale and push forward.

"So here’s my advice, Cherry. Tell them. No hints, no half-confessions. Just look them in the eyes and say, ‘I like you.’ And if they don’t feel the same? At least you’ll know. At least you won’t have to live with ‘what if.’"

Your hand hovers over the controls for a moment longer than necessary before finally pressing the next song cue.

The melody flows through the studio, soft and steady. And yet, your heart is thudding slightly faster than it should.

The night air is cool against your skin as you step out of the building, the faint hum of the city filling the quiet. Work is done for the day, your coworkers already heading their separate ways after a few lingering goodbyes.

You stretch your arms slightly, exhaling as you adjust the strap of your bag—only to freeze mid-motion.

He’s there.

Standing just outside the entrance, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket—except for one, which lingers behind his back, hiding something.

Your heart stirs, something instinctive. “Seungcheol?”

His lips twitch in a small, almost nervous smile. “Hey.”

“You’re waiting for me?” You shift your bag on your shoulder, stepping toward him.

“Yeah.” A soft exhale. “I had to.”

You tilt your head slightly. “Why?”

Seungcheol hesitates, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Then, with a slow exhale, he pulls his hand from behind his back—revealing a bouquet of flowers, delicate and vibrant under the streetlights.

Your breath catches.

Your fingers brush against his as you take it, the warmth of his skin seeping into yours.

“Seungcheol…” Your voice is softer now, unsure. The gesture feels too deliberate, too thoughtful. It makes your heart ache in a way you don’t fully understand.

He watches you for a second before exhaling, running a hand through his hair. “I should’ve said this sooner. A long time ago, actually.” His voice drops slightly. “I think—no, I know—I’ve liked you for a while now.”

Your breath catches.

He holds it out to you, a faint chuckle escaping his lips. “I know it’s kind of cheesy, but... I saw this and thought of you.”

Your fingers brush against his as you take it, the warmth of his skin seeping into yours.

“Seungcheol…” Your voice is softer now, unsure. The gesture feels too deliberate, too thoughtful. It makes your heart ache in a way you don’t fully understand.

He watches you for a second before exhaling, running a hand through his hair. “I should’ve said this sooner. A long time ago, actually.” His voice drops slightly. “I think—no, I know—I’ve liked you for a while now.”

The world feels like it slows down.

His eyes flicker with something—uncertainty, vulnerability, an honesty so raw it makes your chest tighten.

“I tried not to,” he continues, voice steadier now. “I thought maybe it would pass, that maybe we were just friends and I was misreading things. But then you started showing up in my thoughts at the most random times. I’d hear a song and think of you. I’d pass a café and wonder if you’d like their coffee. And no matter how much I tried to ignore it… it was always you.”

Your fingers tighten around the flower.

“So I’m done pretending.” His voice is quiet but firm. “I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time.”

You swallow, fingers tightening around the flower as your heart stumbles over itself. The weight of his words settles over you—not heavy, not suffocating, but something warm, something undeniable.

For a long moment, you don’t speak. You don’t know if you can.

Seungcheol watches you carefully, his usual confidence laced with something softer, something uncertain. You can tell he’s waiting, bracing himself for whatever comes next.

So you inhale slowly, steadying yourself.

“You—” Your voice falters slightly before you clear your throat. “You’ve liked me for a long time?”

He nods, lips curving into a self-deprecating smile. “Yeah.” A beat. “I thought you knew.”

Your breath catches.

Did you?

You think back—to the lingering glances, the easy laughter, the way he’s always been there, steady and constant. The way he looks at you when he thinks you don’t notice. The way your heart has been shifting, your feelings unraveling into something you weren’t ready to name.

“I…” You pause, lips parting, your heart beating so fast it’s dizzying. And then you laugh, a little breathless, shaking your head. “God, I feel so stupid.”

Seungcheol blinks, caught off guard. “Huh?”

You meet his eyes, and this time, there’s no doubt, no hesitation.

“I like you too, you idiot.”

For a second, everything is still.

Then Seungcheol lets out a sharp breath—a laugh, almost disbelieving—and suddenly, that teasing smile you know so well is back, but there’s something else in his expression now. Something real. Something unshakable.

“Yeah?” His voice is quieter, laced with something warm.

You nod, lips pressing together. “Yeah.”

And then, he pulls you in—his hand resting at the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair.

His lips press against yours, gentle at first, then firmer, like he’s been holding this in for too long. His other hand stays over yours, the bouquet still between you, petals brushing against your skin.

The city buzzes in the background, but all you can hear is the quiet rush of your own heartbeat. And in that moment, with his warmth, his touch, his everything—

It just feels right.

You pull away just enough to look at him, breathless, your forehead still resting against his. His hands remain on your waist, warm and grounding, as if neither of you wants to let go just yet.

And honestly? You don’t think you ever want to.

A soft laugh escapes you, light and airy. “You know… a listener of mine also loves their best friend,” you murmur, tilting your head slightly. “They tried everything—subtle hints, letters, taking them out—but their best friend was too dense to get it.”

Seungcheol chuckles, his thumb brushing over your wrist. “Sounds familiar.”

“Right?” You sigh dramatically. “So, I told them to just confess. No hints, no half-confessions, just… real words.”

He hums, nodding thoughtfully. “Good advice.”

“Yeah,” you grin, looking up at him. “I wonder how it went for them.”

Seungcheol pauses for a second, then leans in just a little, his voice playful yet quiet. “I’d say pretty well.”

You blink. “Huh?”

His lips quirk up, and suddenly, the way he’s looking at you feels a little too knowing.

And then, before you can process it, he says it—just two words, but they hit you like a ton of bricks.

“I know.”

You stare. “What?”

He grins, tapping a finger against your forehead lightly. “Your listener. Cherry.”

Your brows furrow. The pieces are there, but your brain refuses to connect them. “What about them?”

He hesitates, as if savoring the moment, before finally confessing, “It’s me.”

Silence.

You tilt your head, processing his words. “...You’re Cherry?”

Seungcheol nods, clearly holding back a laugh at your expression.

For a second, you just stand there, staring at him.

Then, with a dramatic gasp, you lightly smack him with the bouquet in your hands.

“Ow—hey!” He feigns pain, stumbling back slightly, but the wide grin on his face betrays him.

“You idiot!” You hit him again, though there’s no real force behind it. “You made me give love advice for your own confession?”

He catches your wrist, still laughing. “Hey, it worked, didn’t it?”

You narrow your eyes at him, but before you can retaliate, he tugs you forward, pulling you into another hug.

This time, it feels different.

Familiar, warm, but with something new. Something neither of you have to question anymore.

You sigh against his shoulder, shaking your head. “I can’t believe you.”

He grins. “Believe it, Baby.”

[muffinlance]

Some spirit manages to get the gaang and zuko a link that connects their minds. They can share thoughts and their past with each other.

Tweaking this to “and they share dreams” because that’s how I started writing it.

---

“Okay,” Sokka says, wrapping his sleeping bag around himself, and grabbing a comfort Momo, too. “Whose dream was that?”

No one ‘fesses up. But it was kind of a rude question, and also a little rhetorical, anyway.

They all have nightmares with fire.

Having the Fire Lord himself looming over them, while they were on their knees? Not exactly a stretch.

---

“Okay,” Sokka says, “how does Prince Jerkface keep finding us?”

---

“Okay,” Sokka says, “how did he know that seal jerky seasoned just right with honey—not too much, just enough to add a sparkle of sweetness to the depths of savoriness, a perfect balance for the distinguished tongue to relish—was the perfect bait for his Sokka and Sokka-affliated-parties trap?”

“Maybe if you stop dreaming about it, Sokka,” Katara snaps.

...And they all stop.

---

“I’m going to think really really hard about being friends,” Aang says.

“I’m going to think really really hard about that time my boomerang hit him,” says Sokka.

---

Snatching the boomerang out of midair? Impressive.

Ignoring the Avatar to go hit Sokka with it? Repeatedly? Uncalled for.

---

“Sokka. The city is under attack. Right now.”

“Okay,” Sokka says. “But this is a strategic nap, Katara. We need to know what evil things our Evil Other is up to.”

It’s not like the evil fleet part was a surprise, at least. They’ve been dreaming of it for weeks.

---

“Okay,” Sokka says, looking down. “So the ship-blowing-up-thing. Not a nightmare?”

“No,” says Zuko, glaring up with his glare-face all glare-ful but his thoughts mostly full of bruises so deep they’re making Sokka’s ribs ache, and also his legs are going numb.

“Going to get out of the turtle-seal tunnel now?” Sokka asks, still standing over the opening. With his boomerang.

“...No,” the Prince of the Fire Nation says, as he clings onto the edge of the hole, his legs still very much in freezing water.

---

“Okay,” Sokka says, when they have a Fire Prince all tied up in Blankets of Imprisonment. “So. What actually was your plan here? Do not,” he interrupts, before the teenage-shaped bloodhound-leech can do more than open his mouth, “say ‘capture the Avatar.’”

The prince closes his mouth. Glares. And kind of fuzzes at the edges, in the way all of them do when they’re about to fall asleep.

BOOMERANG, Sokka thinks, and Prince Largely Ineffective As An Enemy jerks back upright. His Momo hat chitters a complaint.

“Since we both know your answer is ‘I had no plan, Sokka, ‘plan’ starts with ‘p’ and there’s no ‘p’ in ‘Avatar’’, we’re going to play a game instead. It’s called ‘sleepy prince free association interrogation time.’”

“...What?”

“Battle plans,” Sokka says. “Attack. Fire Navy fleet. Ship numbers.”

Alas, “Fire Nation intelligence” is not something with which the prince’s brain is overly burdened.

“...Are you insulting me?”

“Are you proving my point?”

Elsewhere, Yue laughs in all their heads. Zuko flinches. The prince has a very marked reaction to the laughter of princesses.

---

“Okay,” says Sokka. “So that just happened.”

Commander Mutton Chops is groaning. Kind of flopping. Much like the bag he tried to fireball. Yue picks it up, and gently wrangles a fish back into water. Sokka is still not clear on what the fish-napping was about.

“It’s the Moon,” Aang says. “Or maybe the Ocean?”

Aang’s thoughts are full of a FACE STEALING EVIL CENTIPEDE MONSTER THAT IS JUST ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE THIN VEIL OF REALITY and that is NOT helping Sokka think.

“Okay,” he says again. “So. At least we can all agree on one thing.”

This is a very diplomatic way of saying they all wanted to dropkick Zhao. But some of them wanted to do it more than others.

The prince of the Fire Nation is even paler than normal, and staring across the clearing at his uncle.

“I can explain,” the prince says, while he’s thinking, oh shit treason oh crap uncle wouldn’t hurt me thought that about father too

Sokka wordlessly plucks Momo from the edge of the pond, where he’s been swiping at the spirit-fish, and drops him on the prince’s head.

Everyone needs a comfort Momo, now and again.

---

“A raft, Zuko?” Sokka says. Outloud. Because it makes things louder when you say it and think it. “A raft?”

Aang is bouncing on his toes. “We should go get him.”

The Avatar is grinning. And thinking, really hard and deliberately, as behind them the Water Tribe ship finishes packing, We should capture the Fire Prince.

“Okay,” Sokka says, with a grin of his own.

[scandalaciousintentions]

You know when I keep telling everyone I am not back in this fandom and then I keep reblogging the bejesus out of everything I see? I'm not quite buying it either and I must try harder.

But before I do.

This is such a beautiful collection of chapters. This is not ship-bashing; it is relevant to the essay that follows. I'm not personally a fan of Wolfstar and that purely comes from the way I read these chapters, the way I've always read them. (I also accept this is a personal interpretation and I am open to others.)

That said, the way that I have interpreted what we're told is that these two have not been close. Arguably not for years, but I'd go so far as to say that they've been bound together by James alone. There's not just 12 years between Sirius and Lupin in this moment, there is a chasm of distrust, enmity, possibly even fear.

Which is not to say that either one of them is personally afraid of the other. I think for Lupin it's going to be a fear of completely misreading this man for ten years, a fear that becomes introversion, a fear and a distrust of his own instincts on which he can usually depend. For Sirius, it's a little more tangible - the fear that this man will kill him. In this line alone, there is the immediate understanding that the traitor must die and for the first time, we understand that Lupin is, and always has been, ruthless.

But Peter's sudden emergence on that map changes everything. The world stops spinning on the same axis and this is not just a bonding moment; it's a binding moment. The vengeance killing of Peter Pettigrew is going to bind them together for all time. It's going to bring them a hell of lot closer together from now on.

The fact that Harry steps in and stops it throws a spanner in the works for how this relationship moves forward. I am fascinated by what the first interaction post-PoA looks like. It has floated around my head for years. Because, from everything the narrative tells us about a proud and defiant Sirius and a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher literally fleeing confrontation in the closing chapters, it's not going to work.

I love this one particular piece of dialogue precisely because it tells us so much about their relationship. It even tells us exactly where it's headed. And what I love most is that they get there anyway with the act itself never having taken place.

I've been waiting for someone to bring this up for a while. I don't know what gave it away...

"Shall we kill him together?"

Sirius literally dropped that line after twelve years apart from Remus and I think that's such a meaningful bonding activity for them 🤗

[aakaneeee]

Wiege is not about Luka and Hyuna.

I mean, it is. But not fully.

Wiege is about a cycle.

"Wiege" means cradle - it's been told many times. A cradle.. the ANAKT garden, protecting the children, keeping them safe. But a child can't walk out of a cradle.

In Wiege, both Luka and Mizi lost everything they had, except that for Mizi, it took so much time, gradually suffering, building up more and more, while for Luka, it took a second, a blink, and his whole sky dawned on him. He's seen Hyuna, was in her arms.. and then he was left alone, again. Forever, this time.

But this isn't their sorrow alone.

The generations after them will have an unlucky winner that will be left alone as well.

So will the after.

And the one after.

And again, again, again.

Luka and Hyuna represent the pain of a couple that had the courage to branch out: Hyuna escaped, Luka won. And guess what: they cycled back to the same place. They can never escape: in this Universe, humans cannot escape. Even when they try to find their own Gods, the aliens demolish whatever idea of escapism they had.

And so they have done before this season, and before that.

It's never ending - even when someone feels safe, something intervenes.

Alien Stage never ends well. No matter how plausible it seems for something to go the characters' way, it never happens. Because it's not according to what they want. It's all directed by the creatures that have taken over their free will, rights, and transformed them into pets. I've recently started to be almost unwilling to call them pets; even animals shouldn't be treated the way they are.

In Wiege, little Luka kills his clones, in cold blood, it seems, only then realizing what he's done. The aliens approach him without weapons or hostility: that's what they wanted, isn't it? In my mind, that's how I interpreted it. Him being forced to show his superiority, by killing, essentially, himself. By killing his personality. I think that's the moment where it went wrong for him.

And I think we all know how Sua was treated like a doll, an ornament, how Till was thrown around, beaten up, and then used. Mizi and Ivan are just 2 lucky ones between probably billions of pet humans. In the end, even if Mizi was lucky, her owner still only called her "Creature."

So, Wiege isn't only about the misfortunate couple that withered today: but about every misfortunate couple since the beggining, whose plans were crushed.

In the Modern AU we were shown Luka and Hyuna being engaged, happy, leaning in for a kiss. In the actual Alien Stage, Hyuna was everything Luka had left. Emphasis on had.

[httpknjoon]

say goodnight and go | myg

plot | that time when everyone seemed to be doing something on valentine's day and the popstar and her bassist have all the time with their single asses.

w.c | 3.3k

pairing | bass guitarist!yoongi x popstar!reader

genre | enemies to lovers, popstar x bassist, fluff, angst

note | wrote this last-minute today, just something short n sweet for valentines. enjoy!

main masterlist | series masterlist | want to request?

DAY 93: SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA

Your fans from South Korea are one of your most active fanbases, always showering you with praises and support through social media. You even heard one of your songs becoming a trend on their online platforms, with celebrities and big local personalities doing it. So to show appreciation for them, you and your management decided to stay in the country for a longer amount of days.

So far, you have done your back-to-back concerts, variety show appearances, and media interviews, making sure that your fans will get a lot of content. You also got to do some shopping in Myeongdong with Cal and Paul in your first two days in the country since you know how great everyone's skincare products are.

"Are you going out?"

It's your last day before you leave for another country tomorrow. You sat on the nook near the big window of your hotel room, overviewing the busy streets of Seoul, when Cal came in and checked on you.

"I would love to, but I don't like to see couples eating each others' faces on the street." you shuddered in exaggerated disgust, Cal laughed in response.

Tearing your eyes off the scene, you see your assistant all dressed up. From her usual jeans and dark-colored hoodie, she wore and pastel green coat dress and white boots. She also wore white fuzzy gloves, tights, and a scarf for the winter weather outside. Her hair is also styled in soft waves.

"You are so, so pretty." you smiled as she gave you a twirl. "Where are you and your fiance heading?"

She looks up, recalling her agenda for the day, "We're going to Nami Island, I think. I don't really know. Art planned the whole thing."

"Sounds nice."

You tried to smile before looking back to the window. A sense of heaviness sits on your chest as you hug your knees closer to your body, resting your chin on it. The feeling you have been trying to avoid today, Valentine's Day, cannot help but revive itself in your system. But it has been looming over you for a while now, especially in Seoul, where there are a lot of lovely, cute couples everywhere.

"You okay?" Cal asked, sensing your aura shifting.

"I am, I am!" You turned to look at her again, smiling to reassure her. "Now, go on and enjoy that date. We know Art has a low tolerance for waiting."

She chuckled before giving you a quick hug that you know means well. As soon as the door closed, you were back staring outside the glass. You watched the cars move in different directions, and people walked around places. You watched almost twenty-two stories over them, but your mood cannot keep up and remained low ever since you woke up today.

For the first time in years, you are alone in this day of romance. You tried to stay optimistic about it, thinking that you should be grateful you got out of that toxic on-and-off relationship. But man, wouldn't it be nice to be with someone in this cold, cuddly weather outside?

You sighed, combing your fingers through your unstyled hair, before getting up to your bed. You thought of just taking advantage of your free time to rest in the midst of your ongoing world tour.

"I don't think I can bring this with me, Juwon."

Yoongi let out a sheepish chuckle while holding a brown bag of Tupperware filled with kimchi, braised potatoes, lettuce, rice, and marinated uncooked bulgogi. His cousin laughed.

"Not my problem, man. Mom saw one of your videos online and said you looked thinner. She wanted to make sure you're eating a lot, especially now you're in the country."

It has been more than a decade since Yoongi visited his birth country. Unlike his parents who come and go to South Korea yearly, he never got to visit since he moved to LA. When his mother learned that you would be taking your tour to Seoul, she called up every family member to let them know Yoongi was coming. Everyone was delighted to see him after a long time. His grandma even handed him an envelope money, just like when he was a little kid. Yoongi tried to decline it shyly, but his heart warmed when she told him to keep it as it was for all the Lunar New Year he missed.

"She really wanted to see you, but she and Dad are celebrating their anniversary in the UK right now," Juwon told him while they sat in one of the cafes just on the outskirts of Seoul. "She always told everyone how her nephew is a celebrity in the US."

Yoongi laughed, cheeks warming up, "I'm not a celebrity. I'm a bassist for one."

"Eh, it's the same." his cousin shrugged, making both of them laugh. "You know, a lot of YN's fans here think you two are dating."

Yoongi's jaw tenses at the mention of you. Considering that you two are barely talking right now, being tangled in such gossip with you is a little startling for him.

Juwon continued, "Like, I would scroll on social media and I would see edits of you on stage made by your fans here. There are talks about her performances and gimmicks with you on online forums."

Yoongi knows. His father even asked him once about his relationship status with you during the holidays. When he was on his way to the cafe, a young student recognized and asked him if you two are together after asking for a selfie. And he answered the same thing.

"We're not dating. I'm just her bassist."

Juwon seemed to not really care about Yoongi's relationship status with you, just wanting to share the growing popularity of the topic. They went on talking about life and everything big happening to them. Yoongi appreciated his cousin not mentioning his failed engagement or asking him personal questions about you (since that is something other people do). A couple of hours later, Juwon had to go.

"I'm taking the missus out. So, I really should go," he explained, smiling sheepishly.

Yoongi smiled before they shared a quick hug, "Of course. I'll try to visit again after the tour so I can meet everyone."

It was only afternoon and Yoongi was already on his way back to the hotel. Love is everywhere, he can feel, hear, see, and even taste it with how sweet the heart-shaped candies he sees from the street vendors. On the bus, he cannot help but feel outcasted by how everyone comes and goes in two while he sits alone in the farthest seat. He tried not to be a bitter hater about today's event. But how can he be single right now and there are middle-schoolers holding hands in front of him?

He rolled his eyes as he walked past the young couple who was walking too slow for his liking. Just a few distance from the hotel, he stopped when he got a call from someone.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Yoongi. Are you in the hotel right now?" Art, who's on the other line, asked.

Yoongi continued walking, "Yeah, just arrived. Why?"

Today is meant to be their free day before flying to Thailand tomorrow. He recalls any possible reason why the tour manager would call him today.

"Yeah, uhm, can you check on YN? Callie has been trying to contact her, but she's not answering any texts or calls. She just wants to know how she's doing."

His heart dropped, making him pause near the elevators. He has not really talked with you alone these past few days. You two barely had conversations after that little argument the week after the holiday break.

Yoongi scratched his brow, "Uhm, how about Noah or Akio?"

"They are still on their way to visit Busan. Fred is out of town too," he replied.

Knowing there were no other choices, his shoulder slumped like the whole world fell on it, "Okay, I'll check on her."

"Okay, thank you, Yoongi!" Art sighed in relief. Yoongi heard Cal's relief in the background, thanking him too, "Thanks, Yoongi! Please tell her to text me back."

After saying where your room is, the call ended. Why can't you answer the calls? Yoongi tried contacting you himself when he got in the elevator. Although he knows that you might ignore him, he still tries just to avoid knocking on your door again. But you did not answer. So he got to the floor higher than his and immediately looked for your room.

He felt his heart beating faster when he stopped in front of Room 2202. Chewing on his lip, he raised his finger before the doorbell. He wished he had the same determination when he knocked on your door months ago. He held his breath when he clicked it.

But he got no response. It took him three more tries before hearing footsteps inside and by that time, he was more worried than nervous.

"What— Yoongi?"

Instantly recognizing the person who interrupted your movie marathon, your creased forehead softened up as your shoulders slowly tensed down. Yoongi didn't speak immediately, causing you to just stand there while his eyes scanned your face with lines forming between his brows. You felt like shrinking again under his gaze, wondering if other people feel the same way when your bassist looks at them.

"Were you crying?" he asked since he quickly took notice of your tear-stained cheeks, puffy eyes, and lips.

When you look away, Yoongi can read the embarrassment on your face. He thought you looked cute even though you just cried, but still he was worried by what was the reason behind it. But he didn't want to ask, to cross the line like you said that night. So he didn't.

Instead, he cleared his throat, "Art called me. He said you—"

To see you open the door wider as if you are inviting him to come in is a surprise to him. Your eyes meet, communicating with no verbal words in between. But when your sight starts moving from his eyes to his nose then to his lips. Something in your stomach twists. Before anything happened, you spoke, moving your eyes back up.

"Please, just come in. Someone might see us in the hallway."

Always careful. Yoongi stepped in with the same brown bag in his hand. He waited for you to close the door before speaking up again.

"Art called me and he wanted me to check on you. Cal is worried you were not answering her calls."

Your lips gaped as you forgot where your phone was. Since you were left alone hours ago, you spent your time watching rom-com movies, including the one you were just crying about before Yoongi knocked.

"Wait, I'll look for it."

Yoongi watched you rush to your messy bed. He still has not moved from the same spot near the door, like his feet were nailed to the ground. Not less than a minute later, you came back with your phone in hand.

"Just texted her back. I was on DND since last night, I didn't notice," you explained and why were you explaining to him? You don't know.

He didn't say anything and just looked at you blankly. What was to say anyway? You noticed him not really speaking much when you're around. You mean, Yoongi does not really speak a lot, but you observed how quieter he got when the holiday break ended. The eye contact lessened and so did the small bickering you two do in every rehearsal. It feels wrong to annoy you like before again. There are so many times you want to, but you just can't.

You were chewing on your lower lip unconsciously while looking down at the paper bag in his hand, and could not bring yourself to look up. Yoongi silently wondered what was going on inside your creative head.

"What's that?" you broke the silence, referring to the bag.

"Oh... uhm... it's food from my aunt," he replied, lifting the bag. He pulled out one of the Tupperware. "She wanted me to eat more, said I'm getting thinner."

You don't know why, but that made you chuckle. Yoongi smiled upon hearing your little laugh.

"Have you eaten?" he asked, even though it can be a risk over the line you spoke about before.

But instead of reminding him about that stupid line, you replied, "Ice cream is food, right?"

Yoongi clicked his tongue, shaking his head like you were a great disappointment. He pulled out each Tupperware one by one and placed it on the nearby marble counter.

"Have you had these foods before?" he asked and you simply shook your head. "Then, you're going to have them now."

Yoongi didn't care if he crossed that imaginary line because his mom would kill him if he didn't make you eat lunch. Heading to your kitchenette, he looked for a pan and turned on the stove.

"I will just cook the meat. Then, we'll eat this with rice and the side dishes." he explained while putting the meat on the hot surface.

"What... What should I do? Should I help? Do I have to do anything?" you asked, heavily confused.

Yoongi chuckled at your innocent questions, "You can just watch, YN."

And you did while being intrigued and amused at the same time by the unexpected scenario. Just twenty minutes ago, you were crying over Drew Barrymore and Adam Sandler. But now, you have your bassist cooking before you.

Yoongi cooked all of the meat since he could not really bring it with him tomorrow. He will make sure to eat them all if you do not enjoy it anyway. There are no plates in the hotel room, so you two had to improvise and use the lids of the Tupperware as plates. It was also a relief that his aunt included chopsticks in the bag.

He noticed how your eyes lit up as he explained the side dishes, particularly the potatoes. He picked one and placed it on your 'plate'. You hummed as you tasted the sweetness on your tongue.

"I love this. So much better than room service!"

He smiled before getting you some kimchi on your plate too. That's when your expression dropped, he noticed.

"It's kimchi. Don't worry, it's good."

"What does it taste like? And how should I eat it?" you asked, staring at the very red dish.

"It's spicy and sour. It can be sweet too. Depends on who made it. But my aunt always preferred it spicier." he explained before eating some. Yeah, it's spicy. "Do you eat spicy food?"

"I like spicy foods, but this one looks really spicy. It's very red."

He laughed, "It's good. Taste it! You can eat it alone, with rice, or meat. Like this."

Yoongi pulled his chair next to yours, simply to make you a lettuce wrap like in a local Korean barbecue place. He didn't sit too close, but sensing his familiar scent once again made your heart jump as you watched him make you a lettuce wrap.

"Here. Say 'ah'." Yoongi opened his mouth demonstrating.

You tried not to smile, your head messing with you again, as you followed his order. He helped you with the lettuce wrap. Immediately after chewing it, there's a burst of flavor in your mouth. The kimchi is spicy, sour, and maybe a little salty. But you liked it.

Yoongi smiled when he saw you nodding your head, "See? It's great, right? You should really listen to me more."

You glared at him before picking up your chopsticks to eat. Eating in comfortable silence, Yoongi quietly observed how you enjoyed the meal he brought, specifically the kimchi. He was pleased to see you munching on the dishes.

"Slow down on the kimchi." he teased you at one point, but you just scrunched your nose at him.

"I should have added matching couple-shirts in my merch during the concert. I would have earned millions here."

After having your late lunch, you and Yoongi found yourselves in the same nook you were sitting at earlier today. You two sat on each corner, looking down on the noisy and busy city moving below. It felt like the events after the afterparty were forgotten for the meantime as you two chatted about 50 First Dates, the movie you were crying about, and how he preferred The Wedding Singer more. There was a debate for a whole twenty minutes about it and you were sure Yoongi just let you win, so you can move to another topic.

"Yeah, on my way here earlier, every couple who will get on the bus wears the same thing. I looked like a sore thumb." he quipped, earning another laugh from you while you took another bite of kimchi.

The side dish was almost completely consumed by you alone, much to Yoongi's surprise.

"I told you to slow down on the kimchi." he teased you again.

"But it's good. Tell your aunt it's good, send her flowers for me," you suggested.

He scoffed, "Oh, my aunt would love hearing that and will probably send you five more Tupperware of this."

"Well, sign me up. I wouldn't mind having stock." you grinned before taking the last piece of radish.

He shook his head, laughing, "And you finished it all."

You carefully placed the empty Tupperware in front of you, raising both of your hands like you were a suspect caught, "Not guilty at all."

"She would really love you." he chuckled, leaning back on the wall of the nook.

"Well, that just means she has a very great taste." you quipped, looking outside.

Mirroring Yoongi, you rested your back on the wall while still looking outside. In contrast to your full and contented stomach, your heart feels light at someone's unexpected appearance in your hotel room. You were so ready to watch movies all day and maybe call for room service for food. A small smile forms on your lips.

Unbeknownst to you, Yoongi feels the same thing. Mainly, he was happy the food his aunt made did not go to waste and he got to eat it with someone, who obviously enjoyed it. He tried not to chuckle when he saw a spot of the red sauce near your lips. Before he could even stop himself, his thumb gently wiped it off your face.

You held your breath at the sudden touch with your eyes flickering to meet his. He was frozen on the spot, still in the leaned-in position. For a second, the city noise is drawn out. Until he pulled back and you noticed his cheeks have a very slight tint of red.

"Uhm... there was sauce." he mumbled.

"Hmm..." you awkwardly responded looking away.

Silence joined the room again and Yoongi felt like he had gone past the line already. He slapped his head mentally with what he did. The silence reminded him of a scenario that happened at the end of last year. As he feels it getting into him, he gets up.

"I-I should go. We have an early flight tomorrow."

You looked back at him and were always easy to read for him. But, he didn't want to assume that you wanted him to stay based on your eyes alone. But you did, you really did. Maybe for a companion for tonight? You cannot tell, but you enjoyed this casual conversation with him. You can just hope he did too.

"Okay," you replied, almost a whisper.

You watched him gather the Tupperware back into the paper bag, not moving an inch in the nook. You waited for him to look back at you before he leaves, but he was too focused on the fucking Tupperware. So, you just turned your head outside, letting out a sigh.

And just when Yoongi is about to turn the doorknob, he takes one last look at you. His shoulders depleted, seeing you alone while watching the city outside.

"YN?" he called your name and he was unsure if he saw a glimmer of something in your eyes when you turned around. "Good night."

You forced a smile on your lips, "Thank you, Yoongi. Good night."

note | a little preview for the tour's second leg too...

SERIES TAGLIST

kindly check out my taglist rules on my pinned post :)

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[nanaminxs]

Nerd!Dick Grayson who is fucking the sorority girl he’s had his dick eyes set on since the start of the semester.

Who wouldn’t be attracted to you? You’re bad as fuck—I mean come on. On top of that you’re genuinely smart. Something he doesn’t see often.

So when you’re ontop of him, ever so gently stroking his lengthy shaft with two freshly manicured hands he feels as if he’ll faint.

It was supposed to be him helping you study for finals. Instead it led to you swooning him into his bed.

“You know—when you asked for a one on one I didn’t get think it would fuck.. be like this.” He shudders, bucking into your touch.

Your cunt presses against the underside of his cock through pretty pink panties. The lack of friction on your part making him frustrated.

“We don’t have time for this, pretty. M’not even supposed to be in your dorm—or out of mine past 11.” His nails dug into the fat of your hips, brows furrowed. Eyes staring up at you, a silent plea.

“Would you calm down? No one’s finding you. Nor do they care.” You scowl, rolling your eyes at his nagging. Yet you pull your panties to the side and let slick folds glide against his cock.

Dick Grayson nearly cums from that. Breath hitching and balls tightening. He needs you now.

“C’mon.” Grayson urges, and you follow him with a flick of your wrist—making sure you give yourself time to breathe and adjust while he’s balls deep inside of you.

“I’m surprised you’re a virgin. I thought someone would’ve claimed this pretty face by now.” You hiss out. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as gummy walls drag against his cock at a slow torturous pace.

Dick throws his head back, letting out a gutteral moan, before he’s quickly silenced by your palm.

“I never said be loud. Keep it up and someone WILL find us.”

You’re gonna be the death of him. Even more so when you pick up the pace, ass rippling each time you slam yourself down on his length.

He has to stop his voice from bouncing off the walls and into someone else’s room by shoving his mouth full of your tit. Tongue circling the bud with a content hum.

He looks up at you like he’s only ever going to see you once before you ghost him. To be fair you probably will.

“Take over.” You blurt out, slowing your pace. His feet plant into the mattress and his cock fucks up into you. His hips snapping so desperately you would’ve lost your balance if his arms weren’t wrapped around your waist keeping you steady.

Dick Grayson doesn’t want this to ever end. He’d fuck you for hours if he could, but for now? He’ll settle for watching your face as you cum with a muffled cry—drenching his sheets.

[scoupsakakitty]

LOOOOOVE YOUR BLOG i'm literally obsessed with idol!scoups fics and u r soooo good in writing them <333

not sure if you are open to requests but in case that you are, i'd love to see an angsty one with idol!scoups, maybe one where they fight ??? and cheol has to go on tour or work or something so they're not okay for quite a while and make up once he gets home :(((

Silent Apologies | idol!Scoups x Reader | angst, fluff

The argument had started over something small—something stupid, really—but it had escalated far beyond what either of them expected.

"You always do this, Seungcheol!" Y/N's voice wavered with frustration as she stood in the middle of their living room, arms crossed tightly over her chest. "You shut me out, and then you expect me to just be okay with it!"

Seungcheol ran a hand through his hair, his patience already frayed. "Because I don’t want to fight with you, Y/N! I’m exhausted, I have so much on my plate, and the last thing I need is another argument!"

"So what? You think I don’t get tired too? That I don’t have feelings?" Her voice cracked slightly, but she refused to let it show any weakness. "You act like you're the only one who has problems, but you're never here anymore!"

His jaw clenched. "You knew what you were getting into when we started this! My schedule isn’t something I can just change!"

"I'm not asking you to change it, Seungcheol! I'm asking you to at least talk to me about it instead of pushing me away!"

He exhaled sharply, looking away. "I can't do this right now."

Y/N scoffed, hurt flashing across her face. "Of course you can’t. You always run away the second things get hard."

That was the last straw. His temper snapped. "You think I run away? I do everything I can to keep this together! I'm trying my best, Y/N! But maybe my best isn't enough for you!"

Silence followed his outburst, thick and suffocating. The words hung between them like a wound neither could take back. Y/N swallowed, blinking away the sting in her eyes. "Maybe it’s not."

The finality in her voice made Seungcheol’s stomach drop, but he was too proud—too angry—to reach for her. Instead, he turned on his heel, grabbing his jacket. "I have a flight to catch."

Y/N watched as he walked to the door. "Fine. Go."

The door slammed behind him.

The flight to Indonesia felt longer than it should have. Seungcheol sat in his seat, staring blankly at the screen in front of him, but all he could think about was her. The look in her eyes before he left. The way her voice had cracked. The way he had let his anger win instead of fixing things.

His chest ached with regret.

By the time the concert rolled around, he was running on autopilot. His members noticed. His energy was off. His mind wasn’t there. Even as he stood in front of thousands of fans, singing and dancing like he’d done a hundred times before, his heart wasn’t in it. Because his heart was somewhere else.

With her.

When the final song ended and the cheers filled the venue, Seungcheol barely let the sound settle before he rushed backstage. He ignored the cameras, the staff, the lingering adrenaline. He needed to get home.

Y/N had spent the last two days drowning in her own guilt. She hated the way they had left things, hated the last words they had exchanged.

What if something happened to him while he was away? What if those words were the last thing they ever said to each other?

The thought alone had made her sick to her stomach. So, instead of wallowing in regret, she did what she could to make things right. She cleaned the apartment from top to bottom, made sure everything was perfect. And then, she cooked. She made all of Seungcheol’s favorite dishes, the ones he always craved after long flights. Because she knew that he would come back to her.

And then, as if her heart had called out to him, the front door swung open.

Seungcheol stood there, exhausted and breathless, his suitcase slipping from his fingers and hitting the floor with a dull thud. But Y/N didn’t care about that.

She ran to him.

His arms were around her in seconds, crushing her against his chest as if he was afraid she might disappear if he let go. "I'm so sorry," he murmured into her hair. "I shouldn't have left like that. I shouldn't have said what I did."

Tears pricked at her eyes as she buried her face in his shoulder. "I was so worried about you. I hated the way we ended things."

"Me too," he admitted, pulling back just enough to cup her face in his hands. His thumbs brushed over her cheeks, his gaze soft but filled with remorse. "I never want to fight like that again."

She nodded, leaning into his touch. "Me neither."

A small smile tugged at her lips as she grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the kitchen. "Come on, I made your favorite."

Seungcheol's eyes softened even more when he saw the food on the table. "You really made all this?"

She bit her lip, suddenly shy. "I just… I wanted to do something for you."

His heart swelled with affection. "You didn’t have to, but thank you."

They sat down together, the tension of the past few days melting away as they ate. Seungcheol kept reaching for her hand between bites, as if he needed to remind himself that she was still there, that they were okay.

And they were.

Because no matter how bad the fights got, no matter how far apart they were, they always found their way back to each other.

[mechncheese]

Science Cont Yapping

Character Concepts, Ideas, Possible things, oh my ! Mostly putting this out here to discuss my thought process, you can have a look into my mind if you'd like and lmk what you think !

OK ! So I think I've sorted how I'm going to go about the science continuity ! I'm thinking that I'll split it into two (like how IDW Robots in Disguise and MTMTE take place during the same time but follow two different storylines and eventually fit back together). So we have Science AU Ambition - following Jetfire, Wheeljack, Ratchet, and Perceptor stuck on the moon of Ambition trying to accomplish their mission (finding a way to restore Cybertron + returning home)

Science AU Cybertron - an anthology following various different characters as they struggle to fight a war on a dying Cybertron

Brainstorm and Prowl start out on Cybertron but eventually make their way to where Jetfire and the others are.

I'm still trying to keep this on a small scale but omg it's so hard when I want to do so much and there's so many characters and moving parts.

But here are some fun stuffs; character concepts !

Women have arrived ! I heavily changed Lifeline from her G1 version.

Design wise; I drastically changed her, I wanted to give her a bigger build, I think I could've definitely pushed it a bit more but I want Quickslinger to have a vastly different and heavier build compared to her.

here's what I have in mind for Lifeline;

She works with her bodyguard and assistant Quickslinger and their job is to stabilize critically injured bots on the battlefield so they can be brought back to the base's Medbay, First Aid and Red Alert can handle the rest.

Lifeline is their superior while Ratchet is away and she's more experienced than First and Red. First Aid wants to be a field medic as well but Lifeline keeps telling him no, mostly because he's too inexperienced and she's low-key scared something is going to happen to him because well. They lost Pharma and Ambulon.

In terms of personality, Lifeline is more serious and exhaustion from working has drained her. Fighting is not her forte nor is it something she wishes to participate in, but if push comes to shove she'll immobilize her opponents with the electromagnetic pulse in her palms or she'll just sick Quickslinger on them. She's desensitized to a lot of the horrors on the battlefield and someone needs to give her a paid vacation asap.

Oh also Minerva will be here eventually she's another medic, she mostly works with making the medicine.

Of course, Miss Arcee is here too, she goes on scouting patrols with Bumblebee and Hotrod and they're besties. I imagine they all have a more sibling dynamic with one another.

Arcee I imagine is a mix of Cyberverse and Earthspark in terms of personality, she's chipper, fun to be around, and shows her affection through punching. Arcee has a big heart and that is both a strength and weakness, she would not hesitate to throw herself in recklessly into combat if it meant protecting her allies. She's more a melee type of fighter and uses her speed to her advantage. I kept her design relatively simple and kept her pinks light since I wanted Elita-1 to have darker pinks.

Hear me out guys,, what if Thundercracker was an Autobot ? I'm biased but PLEASE !! THUNDERCRACKER !!

I changed his outlier ability to be more electrical based. As for his defection from the Decepticons.. I imagine he was nonaligned for a while but realized he can't survive alone, then Bumblebee's scouting team found him on a patrol and brought him in. His place on the Elite Trine has been replaced by Slipstream, so it's now Starscream, Skywarp and Slipstream. Haven't worked out the details but I'll cross that bridge when I get there, but they're pissed about Thundercracker, trust.

Thundercracker works with Windblade and Cosmos as Autobot Air Support.

moving forward I do want to try and push bot body types more I FEEL LIKE I SUFFER A LOT FROM SAME BOT SYNDROME I have to change that-- I'm better about it when I'm working with organic characters but something about mechas is just such a different learning curve

[plumpybread]

ALAO UMMMM FOR CHARACTERS IN THE LINEUP: Childe!!!!! I would LOVE to hear why he's so big! I don't know much of the Genshin lore but he's not Fontainian as far as I recall, so I'm curious why he's the largest in the lineup? He looks great at that size!

- lardguz

You got it right, he is not from Fontaine, but from the ice cold, mountainous nation of Snezhnaya (which is still far to come in the actual game and we don't know that much about yet)

Childe never planned to get this big, or barely gain any weight in general, it just happened faster than he could control it. When he first came to Fontaine for a mission, he didn’t think much about the huge portion sizes or how everything was loaded with grease and butter. He figured it was just the way Fontainians ate, and he didn’t take it too seriously. The Fatui higher-ups didn't tell him how long he'd be sent to manage the troops in Fontaine, and he only thought he'd be there for a month or two.

But then a month or two went by, and he started gaining as an effect of his stay in such a nation, and it was impossible to stop. His metabolism couldn’t keep up with the amount of food he was eating, and before he knew it, his weight shot up fast, just like every foreigner who staid in the nation for a long time. He kept telling himself he’d work it off later, but Fontaine doesn’t let you stop once you start. Restaurants kept encouraging him to eat more, the food was designed to push his limits, and after a while, his body just got used to overeating.

Eventually, many years passed, and Childe had still not received any commands to leave Fontaine, but at that point it was far too late. Even when walking got harder and his belly started resting on his lap, he couldn't stop eating. By the time he realized how bad it had gotten, he was already too heavy to move properly.

Now, at 3,782 pounds, he’s completely immobile. Weighing that much still allowed Fontaine-born men to walk, albeit very sluggishly, but as a man not born to carry such an extreme amount of weight, Childe's beyond bedridden, simply resting in one of the many rooms in their Fontainian Fatui base where he still tries to manage their troops as best as he can as he was ordered to many years ago.

He was still clinging on to the hope that his Fatui peers would allow him to leave Fontaine, He never thought it would go this far, but in Fontaine, once you start gaining, you don’t stop.

Here's an old-ish sequence of Childe's growth as he was sent to Fontaine I made during the infancy of the AU :]

It follows the idea that he was sent to work at Fontaine around the same time Aether arrived to Teyvat, so Aether witnessed Childe blowing up drastically each time they'd meet until he eventually found him bedridden by the time he got to Fontaine 5+ years-ish after arriving to Teyvat and spending a year on every previous nation.

[watchmegetobsessed]

LITTLE NERDY VALENTINE

A/N: one day late, but here's a bit of valentine's day cuteness with fratry bc i've been thinking a lot about him lately

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

SUMMARY: Harry wants to celebrate Valentine's Day, but you're not a fan of his plans of going out and you have your reasons for that, but talking about them is not easy, so it causes some frustration.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

“So, what do you want to do on Friday?” 

Harry is lying on your bed with a textbook lying open over his chest, but he hasn’t read a single word of it in the last hour, he’s been too busy playing on his phone while you were sitting at your desk, working on a paper that’s due next week. He came over to study, but you both knew you’d be doing all the studying, you actually have no idea how Harry has good grades. 

“Friday? What’s on Friday?” you hum, still typing away on your computer, pretending to be oblivious.

“You know…” He draws out the words, sitting up so his back is against the wall. He puts the textbook aside, closing it, done pretending he is actually reading any of it. 

“Hm?” You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, eyes glued to the screen, but you can feel Harry’s burning eyes on your back. 

“Y/N, it’s Valentine’s Day,” he chuckles, giving up the game. “We are having a Cupid’s Party at the frat house, but if you want to go out, maybe have dinner or something I’m down.”

“Uh, I don’t know…” 

“Or we can go to the movies, I’m willing to watch that new romcom with you, if you want.”

“Harry…” Sighing you give up and finally turn with your chair to look at him, but you wish you didn’t because he is giving you those puppy eyes he knows you can’t resist and he is hugging your pink fluffy pillow like a little kid. 

“Y/N?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to go out.”

You catch the tiny wince that twitches his lips, but he recovers quickly. You were really hoping you could avoid this conversation today, though part of you knew it would come up, since it’s Wednesday, only 2 days until Valentine’s Day. 

His eyes jump down at the pillow as he starts fumbling with it, like a hurt kid who just got told no. 

“Harry…”

“Are we ever gonna leave this room and act like a real couple?” 

“Don’t start this again, please…”

“I just understand, Y/N,” he groans as he looks up at you again. “We’ve been together for over two months and I haven’t even held your hand in public.”

“That’s not true, you held my hand when–”

“When we were hiking in the middle of the woods so no one could see us. Yeah, you’re right,” he scoffs. 

“We’ve talked about this,” you say, looking down at your lap as the guilt bubbles in your gut. 

“Actually, we haven’t. You just keep telling me you need more time, but never really explain why or what bothers you. I’m trying to be patient, but I really want to take our relationship out of this tiny dorm room.” He gestures around your room where you spend the majority of your time together with him. 

Chewing on your bottom lip you just keep picking on your chipped nail polish, not looking at him, but then he climbs to the edge of the bed so he is sitting right in front of you. He lifts your chin gently, forcing you to look him in the eyes. 

“Y/N, what’s wrong? I’m more than happy to wait for you, but I need to know a bit more.” He places a hand to your thigh, reassuringly rubbing it as he waits for you to say something. 

“I’m just… I don’t know, I like that it’s just the two of us.”

“Bullshit. It would still be just us.”

Ugh, you hate how well he knows you, you can’t lie to him, but you’re not willing to tell him the truth either. 

“Can we just not talk about this right now? I really need to finish this pa–”

“Y/N, stop avoiding this, please. You know you can tell me anything.”

He is looking at you, waiting and expecting, but you just can’t give him what he wants. His gaze keeps flickering between your eyes, hoping you’d finally open up, but you keep your mouth shut. And then he loses his patience.

“Alright then,” he whispers, jumping up to gather his things, showing everything into his backpack.

“What are you doing?” you ask, watching him tug the zipper angrily before swinging the bag over one shoulder. 

“I can’t do this, Y/N. I don’t want to hide and not even know why. You wouldn’t tell me what bothers you, so I have to draw my own conclusions and want to know what all of this seems like to me? Like you don’t want to be seen with me, like you’re ashamed of being with me.”

“Harry, that’s not true,” you protest, standing from your chair. 

“Then what is it?”

You open your mouth, but your voice dies in your throat. Unfortunately, Harry takes that as your answer. 

“Okay. Call me when you’re willing to talk.”

And with that, he is out of the room. 

A couples’ party might not have been the best place to be today for Harry, but the thought of easing his mind with a few rounds of beerpong was good enough to make him leave his room and join the party. 

Cupid’s Party usually has two groups of people: the happy couples, attached by the hip, eating each other’s face off and the single people getting wasted, hoping to at least hook up with someone. Currently Harry doesn’t feel like he belongs to any of these groups.

He assesses the living room over the rim of his red solo cup and tries his best to ignore the pain in his chest at the sight of all the happy couples in matching outfits, celebrating their love. In the beginning of the week he was still hoping he and you might be one of them, but things didn’t turn out to be the way he planned. 

After the fight in your room you texted him, asking him to come back, but he made it clear he wouldn’t be doing that unless you’re willing to talk.

Which you werent, so it’s been radio silence since then. 

He had to stop himself from texting or calling you like a million times, it’s been quite the fight since Wednesday, he’s been missing you like crazy, but he is also determined to finally move forward. 

“You alright man?” Niall pats him on the back with a cup in his own hand that smells so much of alcohol that Harry can’t stop himself from wrinkling his nose. While he likes to have drinks, he is often surprised how some of his friends in the house haven’t died of alcohol poisoning.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he nods with a sigh. 

“Uhuh, that’s why you’ve been moping around for days, right?” Niall laughs.

“I have not–”

“I have not been moping, you arse!” Niall mocks him, which he finds hilarious, but Harry just rolls his eyes and takes a swig from your drink. “Alright, if you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t push it, but if you feel like you need a shoulder, you can come to me.”

“I know,” Harry sighs. “Thanks, I’ll just get a refill for now,” he says, holding up his cup. Niall nods and they go their separate way.

Harry fights through the crowd towards the kitchen and tries his best not to get stopped by drunk girls that are more than eager to hook up with him tonight. He would love to tell them he is taken, but he can’t. Even despite the fight you had, he still doesn’t want to go against your will and tell everyone that you’re dating. 

The kitchen is a mess, but he quickly finds the tequila and then mixes it with some pineapple juice, then he stops by the pizza and grabs a slice so his stomach wouldn’t be completely empty. Though his original plan was to get drunk, but now he is not feeling that, so this is probably his last drink, since he is starting to feel a bit dizzy. 

Leaning against the counter he is debating if he should just go back to his room and spend the rest of the night playing video games, but then he spots an all too familiar face in the crowd outside in the hallway. 

You look very uncomfortable, navigating between the half drunk people while looking like you’re searching for someone. Harry puts his pizza slice down right away and he just starts moving towards you when he sees a guy bumping into you, making your shoulder hit the wall.

“Ah, sorry sweetheart, you alright?” the guy asks and his hand is already on your arm, leaning way closer than you’d like him to.

“It’s okay Dave, I got her.” Harry pats him on the back in a friendly manner, though inside he is fuming at the way he is looking at you right now, like he is ready to peel you out of your clothes. 

“Harry, hey! I was just–”

“I know, I got her,” Harry repeats, this time with a tougher look at the guy, which he finally notices so he just nods and wanders away. “Are you okay?” he asks, finally looking at you, keeping one hand on your elbow.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Can we talk?” you ask and Harry nods right away, moving his hand to the small of your back, guiding you upstairs, towards his room. 

You’ve been to his frat house, you actually met him at a party here, but you’ve never been to his room. If the other boys saw you coming and going from his room it would have been quite obvious there’s something going on between the two of you, so you usually stayed at your dorm room where it was easier for Harry to sneak out without being noticed, that place is too big for anyone to notice him.

The hallway leading to his room is scattered with couples making out by the wall and you try not to stare at the pair that’s practically dry humping each other like they are in a private place. 

Harry unlocks his door with his keycard and then ushers you inside, finally shutting the noises of the party out. You’re curiously looking around the room that’s a lot tidier than you expected. Aside from a few clothes lying in the corner and two unwashed mugs on his night stand, it’s pretty neat. On his desk you notice the book you gifted him a week ago. You pick it up and open it where the bookmark is at around the third of the book and then you realize the bookmark is a polaroid of the two of you. It was taken the first time he slept in your room, your faces are mushed together as you laugh at something. You remember him taking a picture, but you weren’t expecting him to use it as his bookmark, which is such a sweet thing. 

He has been nothing but sweet to you and that just makes your guilt even worse for treating him the way you did. 

When you turn around you find him watching you with his hands in his pockets, just patiently waiting for you to start talking. 

“I’m sorry for making you feel like I’m ashamed of you. That was never the case and… yeah, I’m just really sorry.”

Harry nods, but then just keeps looking at you and you know he wants you to continue. So taking a deep breath you force yourself to keep talking before you chicken out. 

“I was actually thinking it was the other way around.”

That confuses him, he frowns but before he could ask anything you just continue.

“We are not really from the same crowd. You’re… You live in a frat house, you play football, people know you around campus while I’m more like just… a face in the crowd. I know it’s such a cliché, but I felt like that if people saw us together they would question why you’d go out with me a-and–Um… I just…”

“And you thought that I would also question why I’m with you?” he finishes what you couldn’t and you just nod, feeling your throat closing up. It’s been such a heavy weight on your chest the past weeks and now that you said it out loud it’s a relief but you’re also worried how Harry will think of you now. 

Then his eyes soften and stepping closer he gathers your hands between his palms, holding them to his chest. 

“Y/N, you realize this is not a movie where there are popular kids and nerds and they never talk?” he asks with a soft chuckle, making you laugh. 

“I know. I know it sounds ridiculous, but it’s just been haunting me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

“Because it’s ridiculous,” you repeat. “Deep down I knew it, but I just couldn’t help it. I thought that I could get rid of it with time, but I couldn’t and I swear I didn’t want to hurt you with all of this, it’s just that I can easily get into these… spirals and it’s so hard to get out of them.”

“I know,” he softly says and leaning closer he kisses your forehead. “I just wish you told me so I could help you.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“It’s okay.”

Letting go of your hands he cups your cheeks in his palms as he pulls you in for a kiss while your hands fist the fabric of his shirt at his waist. He is sweet and gentle, his lips reassuring you that he is right here, with you. He rests his forehead against yours, his thumbs gently caressing your cheeks. 

“By the way, did you just call me a nerd?” you ask, opening your eyes, making Harry laugh with your words.

“Do you not fit the nerdy stereotype of romcoms?” he challenges you with a wide grin on his face.

“Well, I do study a lot and spend every other afternoon in the library.”

“See? You’re my little nerdy Valentine,” he arches an eyebrow and you just roll your eyes at him, but can’t help the smile that tugs on your lips. Then slowly, his expression turns more serious. “So what would you like to do now?”

“I don’t know,” you admit with a sigh.

“Listen. If you need more time… I’m okay with that. I want you to feel comfortable and if that means that I have to convince you that no one will point fingers at us if they see us together, then that’s what I’ll do.”

You’ve known it from the beginning, but Harry just keeps proving that he is the right person for you and you couldn’t be more thankful for him. 

Leaning in you kiss him shortly. “I want to move forward, I’m just a bit scared.”

“Then you’ll lead us in whatever pace feels comfortable for you, okay?”

You nod and he kisses you again. 

“Do you want to go back down?” he asks, nodding towards the door. 

“Yeah, I would like that.”

Walking out of his room he locks the door and the two of you head back down and you notice that he is still keeping his distance from you, not trying to change everything all of a sudden. Returning to the kitchen he makes you a drink and he grabs another slice of pizza when Niall emerges from the crowd. 

“Hey, you’re still here! Thought you’d lock yourself up in your room soon,” he chuckles seeing Harry.

“You thought I’d bail?” Harry grins, leaning against the counter. Niall’s eyes move over to you.

“I think we haven’t met yet. I’m Niall.”

“Y/N,” you shake his hand. You catch a look the two boys exchange and after that, Niall just smiles at Harry knowingly.

“Alright, I’ll be by the beerpong tables if you need me,” he waves before making his way out of the kitchen. 

“You have a bit of sauce there,” you point at Harry’s mouth smiling.

“Hm? Here?” he asks, wiping his lips, but he completely misses the spot, making you laugh. “Where?” he grins.

“Right there…” You raise a hand to help him out, but it stops midway when a thought pops into your mind and before you could talk yourself out of it, you lean in and kiss his lips. 

“Now you’re good,” you smile against his lips. Harry can’t contain his growing grin, because this was the first time you kissed him in front of other people. 

“I think it’s still there.”

“Oh yeah?” you chuckle at him.

“Yeah, all over my lips, everywhere.”

“Stop,” you roll your eyes at him laughing. He leans down and kisses you shortly before he continues eating his pizza, trying his best not to comment it when your hand sneaks into free hand, fingers lacing together.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hi, I was wondering… could you write a scenario/one-shot with the player Player(Reader) where instead of the final battle with Doey we manage to calm him down and comfort him after Safe Haven was destroyed.

idk I just want to hug the Dough Boy

Ngl I had this one requested to me by like 5 people. So here's that much-needed fix it fic <3

.........

Hearing the distant screaming of who you could only assume was Doey, you rushed through the tunnel with a pounding heart.

You've never felt more terrified than you did right now.

Not long after killing the Doctor, the Prototype decided to make his move and lay waste to the Safe Haven. Ollie alerted you to the situation and told you how to repair the generator while Doey and the others fended off the outside threat.

Then you headed down to the foundation at Poppy's insistence, setting up the explosives you collected and eventually running into the doughman again within the caves.

He seemed utterly confused, having been chasing the Prototype away from Safe Haven...

Only to realize too little too late that was his intention all along..

An explosion suddenly rocked the sanctuary, prompting the two of you to rush back to see how bad the destruction was. It took you a while to get there considering your limitations as a human wearing a grabpack, so you could only imagine what Doey was seeing to make him scream that loudly.

When you finally made it through the infirmary, past a handful of Mini Smiling Critter corpses, your heart sunk into the pit of your stomach, horrified at the scene before you:

The decrepit yet colorful place the toys once found safety in...was totally reduced to rubble. Small fires burned all around you---and in the midst was a little Bobby Bearhug, who Doey was currently grieving over.

They might have been a nuisance to you in the playhouse, but these ones--the ones who refused to give into their savagery during the Hour of Joy--were innocent little souls. Doey had sworn to protect them over the years, keeping them sheltered from the outside..

And in an instant, they were gone.

All of them.

Because he wasn't there.

"I'm sorry...I'm so, so sorry." He choked out, seemingly unaware of your presence. "I failed you. I was never what any of you needed. I-I was only made to hurt things. My fault...my fault..." With a small sob, he brought his hands to his face.

You were utterly devastated, too.

How could this happen?

How could you let that damn machine trick you?

"Doey, I'm..." You stepped forward, only to freeze as he suddenly turned to you, now eerily silent.

The look in his big hollow eyes...was nothing short of pure anger.

"Hurt...everything hurts." He snarled, his nubby fingers balled up into fists. "Hurt back. ALWAYS hurt back. Parents. Scientists. Everyone! Have to-"

His body experienced a tremor, and he now looked utterly grief-striken once more, his voice now sounding depressed and weepy. "My friends! He killed my friends!" He sobbed, wiping at his tears.

At first you wondered what was going on with him, until you remembered the tapes and notes you've gathered throughout your journey--quite a handful discussed his time as an experiment and how he came to be, well, Doey.

Apparently the mad scientists here had the brilliant idea to take three children--boys to be precise--and blend them into one 900 pound pile of dough and bring it to life, thinking that nothing could possibly go wrong.

One of them, Kevin, had anger issues that drove him to become violent towards other children--even those who were his friends. The other was Matthew, who seemed to be the calmest and most mature, and the one you've most likely been talking to this whole time. Then there was Jack, a very young kid who fell into a dough mixer and was forced to become part of Doey as some "life-saving" measure.

Had it not been for the information you discovered, you never would've understood what was happening to the toy you've allied yourself with.

But now you realize he was unstable.

Because of the sheer trauma of Safe Haven's destruction.

"You. It all started with you." Doey pointed at you accusingly, Kevin dominating the conversation once more. "You and her...IT WAS YOU WHO RUINED EVERYTHING!!" He screamed.

"What?" Your eyes went wide, horrified that he'd blame you for all of this. "No, that's...you seriously think this was all my fault?! I had no idea this was going to happen!"

"LIAR!! You two led him to us." He growled. "You shouldn't have come back...NEVER SHOULD HAVE COME BACK!!"

His body wriggled once more, with Matthew trying his best to stay in control, afraid of what he'd might do. "No, no. That's not true. They jumpstarted the generator, they--" He smacked the side of his head, and he was lost again, Kevin's rage being too overbearing. "DESTROYED EVERYTHING!! I'LL KILL YOU!!!"

'No..no, no, no...' You panicked internally, slowly backing away as you saw sharp orange teeth starting to break through his mouth. 'Please, god..don't make me hurt another one...'

Why did this have to happen again?

You were so, so tired of having to fight.

After he saved you from Pianosaurus, made his sanctuary a home to you, and kept you smiling throughout your trip inside this hellhole....it was now going to come down to either you or him walking away alive?

In a blind rage, Doey's enlarged fist swung at a concrete pillar beside him, and as it crumbled....so did the ceiling above him that was barely supported by that single pillar.

Now nothing could stop the rubble from crashing down onto him--

Except for you and your quick thinking, using both grabpack hands to grip his arms and drag him towards you with all your might. Upon release, you jumped back as he fell to the ground, looking to see the massive pile of debris he would've been buried under.

It made you feel relieved, afraid of what might've become of him.

"You...why did you do that? You think that makes you a hero?!!"

Before you could blink, Doey suddenly had you in his grasp, holding you up high in the air with both hands, itching to crush you and eat you alive. "WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!!" His features began distorting, looking more reptilian in nature. "I said I'd kill you!! KILL EVERYONE WHO HURTS ME!!!"

For a brief moment, you thought you saw a few pairs of glowing red eyes within his widening mouth, but they quickly retreated--except for one angry-looking set.

Yet you stared at them, your resolve unwavering. "You're an idiot, you know that?"

"....what?" He was shocked by your cold answer, and that only fueled his outrage. "IDIOT?! I'M NOT THE IDIOT!! YOU'RE THE IDIOT!!!"

"Don't you get it?! This is exactly what the Prototype wants! He wants to see us fight and tear each other apart! Destroy whatever unity we had left!" You snapped, despite your voice trembling. "You think I wanted this to happen?! You think I wanted Poppy to drag me into this mess?!"

"......."

"I only came here because of a stupid note. From somebody I knew who claims they're still alive. But...they can't be. I was tricked by him. I tried to leave, but Poppy...she redirected the train that was my only way out of here, saying I'm "the only one" who can help her...but I never wanted that responsibility, Doey."

For once, "Kevin" remained silent, although he still had you in his clutches. But he looked surprised to hear that she took away your chance at escaping this place.

She never mentioned that to him.

She only said you came willingly..

"Something's not right with her. You know it. I know it. And I'm sure Kissy knows it even if she can't tell us. We've all felt used by her. To do the dirty work that somehow keeps bringing the Prototype closer to us."

"...you could have talked her out of it.." He finally responded. "Yet you...you went along with her plan anyway. YOU KILLED THEM!! KILLED MY FRIENDS!! Our friends.." Jack briefly returned, sniffling. "T-They thought you were good...they thought you were nice..I-I thought Poppy was, too."

"I know, and I'm sorry. I should have heard you out. I had no idea it was gonna lead to all of this. I swear to god..I didn't know.." You sighed shakily, hoping he'd be willing to listen to reason. "You have every right to blame me. But..we can't let them die in vain. The Doctor's gone, so all we have to do is get to him. But first...I need you to put me down."

"......"

"Please, Doey. I don't care if you hate me for this. I don't expect your forgiveness. Let's just....kill the Prototype..and you can do whatever you want to me afterwards. I'm tired of fighting people I've come to see as friends. I've got enough blood on my hands."

At first, it seemed like all your attempts at resolving this without violence were futile, as he was just breathing raggedly, like he were an animal who was too far gone.

But then you saw his features twitch, resembling what they were before. His eyes also had that familiar sad look to them, indicating Matthew had somehow regained full control--at least for the moment.

"I..." He sniffled, setting you down on the ground. "I'm sorry. We--I was just...so hurt by what happened. And....And I just looked for somebody to blame. I shouldn't have lashed out. I shouldn't have-"

"Hey, it's okay, Doey. I know you didn't mean it." You reassured him, happy he returned to his senses, before you turned around to see that same Mini-Bobby still laying on the floor, who somehow didn't get crushed by the rubble.

Without saying a word, you crouched down to pick up the little Smiling Critter, cradling her despite the blood. You saw a piece of playmat that managed to survive the explosion. Although it wasn't much, it was better than her laying on the ash-ridden concrete, so you decided to set her down on it.

Doey just looked on in silence, removing his hat as a show of respect, still mulling over his angry words and how he threatened your life.

There's no way you could have predicted the Prototype's next move.

Then, as though a miracle were sent from above...Mini-Bobby suddenly gasped, coming back to life.

Both of you were initially shocked, although you were quick to comfort her as she coughed a few times, smoking clogging her senses. "Hahh..gah..wh-what happened?" She hoarsely asked, seeing you two and the surrounding flames, before it all clicked. "The Safe Haven...it's..."

"I'm sorry. It's no more." You frowned a little, helping her sit up. "Go through that tunnel and stay quiet. I'll be there to retrieve you. Just keep yourself away from all this smoke."

She nodded managing to get up and limp towards the tunnel you came from.

Doey was astonished. "Bu....But I thought..she...."

"Looks like not everybody perished. There might be more survivors-" You turned back to face him.....only to get engulfed by his arms, and for a moment you thought Kevin returned and was about to crush you like a grape.

Until you heard loud sobbing and felt his entire body tremble, realizing it was Jack instead, and your relief returned.

"There, there, big guy." You hugged him back, smiling sadly. "You're okay. We're gonna get through this together. He'll pay for what he's done to our friends. I'll make sure of it."

"I-I don't wanna be here anymore..I just want mommy...a-and daddy..." He cried.

"I know. I don't wanna be here, either. We're gonna find a way out."

"...I'm so sorry. I-I didn't mean to get so angry.."

"I know you didn't. I forgive you."

[berfgrimm]

staring at the sun: valentine | choi seunghyun (t.o.p) x reader

pairing: choi seunghyun (t.o.p) x f!reader

warnings: smut, oral, unprotected sex, dirty talk, fluff

note: someone requested valentine’s with seunghyun, preferably in this universe, so i had the perfect idea! i hope you guys enjoy! let me know what you think! as always you can keep sending in requests and hc’s. i’ve linked the other parts below if you need to catch up!

staring at the sun | phone call | payback

———————

When Valentine’s Day came, you knew spending the day with Seunghyun wasn’t going to be an option. Instead, you laid on your sofa in a t-shirt and underwear, watching music videos on YouTube while enjoying some snacks, until you were interrupted by a knock at your door. You wrapped your blanket around your body to hide your state of undress, and opened the front door to find Seunghyun leaning in the doorway holding a single rose and your favorite candy.

You giggled at the cheesy grin on his face, enjoying a more relaxed and silly side of Seunghyun. You took a few steps from the door to allow him to enter your home, and once he slipped out of his shoes, he stole a quick kiss from you. As you followed him to your sofa, you felt underdressed obviously; he was wearing a grey sweater with a blue dress shirt beneath it along with some tight black pants that you hate to admit found yourself distracted by. When he sat on the sofa, he stared up at you expectantly, and you felt shy under his gaze.

“I didn’t know you were coming over,” you said.

“It’s our first Valentine’s Day together,” he replied, smelling the rose he still held in his grasp. “I wouldn’t miss it.” You smiled softly at him, your heart fluttering from how sweet he sounded.

“Did you want to go out?” you asked. “I mean, I know we can’t exactly—”

“No, we can stay here,” he nodded, eyes quickly flicking over your blanket covered body before coming back to your face. “You look comfortable.” He glanced around your room, first towards your television, then to your snacks on the coffee table, and finally the pillow beside him on the sofa. “You were relaxing and I interrupted,” he said, looking back at you with a look of regret.

“No, no,” you laughed, hurrying to the sofa and kneeling down on the cushion beside him so that you could put your hand on his chest. “Having you here is much better.”

“Mm, good, I didn’t want to leave,” he smiled, cupping your jaw to turn your face so he could kiss your cheek. “Relax again. I’ll put this flower in some water.” You giggled when he handed you the candy, watching him excuse himself to the kitchen.

While he was gone from the room, you laid out on the sofa again, stretching your legs out across the cushions and pulling the cover over your body. After a few moments, Seunghyun returned to the room with the rose in a water filled glass, which he set on the coffee table. He motioned for you to move your feet to allow him to sit, which you gladly did, but he grasped your calves and pulled your legs into his lap.

“This is cozy,” he muttered to no one in particular, straightening out the blanket to cover over his lap as well. He set one of his arms on the back of the sofa, focusing on the television to watch the next music video. “I like this,” Seunghyun said, quietly, fully focused on the screen. “I don’t think I know it.”

You smiled to yourself as you found a position where you could discreetly watch him lit only by the light of the television screen. You find yourself enamored with the way he watched the music video carefully, truly interested in what he was seeing on screen; he’s a musician after all.

“I understand why you like this video,” he said, sparing you a brief glance before locking into the screen again. “It’s mesmerizing…just like you.” You shifted your leg to shove his thigh with your foot, and let out a small laugh but Seunghyun’s hand quickly slipped under the blanket to catch your ankle. “Easy, princess,” he warned, his fingers gliding up to squeeze the side of your calf. He didn’t take his eyes off of the screen, but he kept his hand under the blanket, resting on top of your shin.

You both stayed silent, watching a few more videos but you quickly became aware of Seunghyun's fingers mindlessly tracing a pattern on your shin. The sensation sent a small chill through your body, causing you to shift and in turn, you accidentally brushed against him. You clearly heard the small intake of breath from Seunghyun at the contact, but you kept your eyes on the television screen, playing it off.

You pulled your leg that is nearest Seunghyun out from the confines of the blanket and bent at the knee, resting it against the back of the sofa. In doing so, you caused the blanket to slip off of your knee, baring your whole leg to the cool air. It wasn’t something you did intentionally really…well, maybe a little. But you caught Seunghyun cutting a brief glance towards your movement, shifting his hips under your other leg that remained stretched across his lap.

Seunghyun lifted his hand from the back of the sofa, quickly ghosting his fingertips over your knee, and down your inner thigh so he could grab the edge of the blanket. He lifted the blanket and tilted his head to the side so he could catch a glimpse of your panties in the dim glow of the room. With a small hum, he dropped the blanket again, keeping his gaze on you. Finally, you looked away from the television to peer back at Seunghyun, licking the corner of your mouth.

“You didn’t want to tell me you were only wearing your panties, princess?” he asked, his voice deep.

“I thought you’d find out eventually,” you replied. Seunghyun let out a soft hum of a chuckle, blinking slowly. You decided to tease him by shoving his thigh with your foot once again but leaving it pressed there.

Seunghyun’s hand placed to your knee again, his fingers trailing down your inner thigh until they slid under the blanket again. His knuckles brushed carefully over your panties, and you struggled to keep your breath steady though your skin heated up immediately from his touch.

“Can I touch you like this?” he asked.

The deep, quiet tone and slight rasp to his voice served more as verbal clarification instead of dirty talk, but in the light of the television, you could see the look of want in his eyes. You bit your lip, giving a small nod of your head that told him to proceed.

Keeping his eyes on your face, Seunghyun pushed your panties to the side enough to stroke the pad of his finger along your clit. He dragged his digit down to your entrance, dipping in slightly, but quickly moving back up to your clit, rubbing slowly.

“I enjoy touching you just as much as I like to watch you touch yourself,” Seunghyun admitted, licking his lips.

“Yeah?” you asked, just as he slipped one finger into you to earn a small hum of approval from you.

“Mhm,” he hummed, rubbing slow and lazy circular motions on your clit. “I like to pay attention to what you do to yourself…how to get you to do this…” He slipped his finger inside of you curling it up and immediately hitting the spot inside of you that drives you crazy. You gasped and instinctively spread your legs wider in response; he smiled, proudly. “You know what you like,” he whispered. “That’s how I learned what you like, too.”

“What else?” you asked, when he started slowly stroking your clit again.

“What do you mean?”

“What other things do you like?” You felt silly asking him about this, but you were trapped by the sound of his voice — you wanted to listen to him talk all night, about anything. Seunghyun sighed softly, a thoughtful look on his face, as he tried to search for another answer.

“I like when you call me ‘baby’,” he admitted, a tinge of pink hitting his cheeks. It was endearing to hear him say it, and especially to watch his honest reaction once he spoke. “It’s cute,” he continued. “It makes me feel…”

“It’s okay,” you said, noticing that he was having a hard time finding a way to describe it. “If you like it, I’ll keep doing it.” The soft smile that he gave made your stomach do flips — there’s little in life more gratifying than making Seunghyun smile.

“You tell me something now,” he said, resting his hand on your pelvis as he stared at you intently.

“Hmm,” you hummed thoughtfully, trying to find something comparable to tell him. “I like dirty talk. A lot. Especially when you say it…your voice gets even deeper and sometimes it’s raspy.” You paused when you noticed that the look on his face didn’t change, and you felt a little embarrassed by how needy you sounded while talking about him. Until you felt his fingertips delving under the hem of your shirt to softly rub your stomach.

“My voice turns you on?” He wasn’t teasing, at least you didn’t think he was, because he didn’t have that look on his face. Still, his voice had that raspy note, deep and rumbling in his chest; you shift your hips in response, hoping he might take the hint and start touching you again. “What else?” he asked, pressing his hand down to hold your hips still, but letting his thumb tease over your panties.

“I like…being submissive.” You felt your skin flush when you said it, and you had to look away from him; you’d never been so open about your interests like this before. “You know, it’s like…” you started muttering to fill the silence in the air, but you found your words caught in your throat.

“Look at me,” Seunghyun said, his tone firm, and you listened. His expression hadn’t changed, contemplative and intense, but he ran his tongue over his lips, tilting his head to the side. “Tell me what you mean,” he said. “It’s just you and I. There’s nothing to be afraid of.” You bit your lip, getting lost in the soft and smoky tone that he spoke with.

“I like being told what to do,” you said. “It doesn’t have to be rough or aggressive. I just like—”

“Being treated like a princess?” he interrupted, a faint smirk on his lips.

“Not exactly. It’s more about you dictating how things go. I like…the way you look when you’re about to tell me how you want me. I like being a good girl for you.”

“Mm, I like that, too,” Seunghyun chuckled softly, tracing his fingers along the material of your panties. “I like lingerie. I want to buy some for you, if you’ll let me.” The way he said it, like he was asking but he already knew the answer. He sounded so sure of himself, his fingers pushing past your panties again to stroke your wetness. You nodded your head, giving him permission for anything and everything he could be asking you at that moment.

Seunghyun casually brought his focus back to the television for a moment, but then quickly shifted in his seat, ducking under the blanket and pulling his legs onto the sofa. You couldn’t see him but you could feel his soft sweater as he maneuvered himself onto his knees, between your thighs. You dropped your leg to hang off the front of the sofa to afford him more space.

You felt his breath on your thigh first, followed by several gentle kisses that trailed towards your panties. All you are able to do is watch his body covered by your blanket as he repeated the same action on your opposite thigh. For a moment, he was still, but you could feel his hot breath steadily blowing onto your legs and your wet panties.

You stayed frozen, unsure of what he was planning on doing until you felt him catch the fabric of your panties with both hands, ripping them. You gasped and your body lurched in surprise, your hands grabbing for the edge of the blanket to lift it and peer underneath. In the dim glow of the television, all you could see was his bright pink hair before he tilted his head up to gaze back at you, a playful smirk on his face.

“It looks like you need some new panties anyway,” he smirked, tugging the torn fabric from your legs. “The lacy kind, so I can taste you through them. Now, just relax, and don’t interrupt me again.” He said it firmly, to let you know he meant it, but you could see the smile on his lips as he pulled the blanket from your grasp to cover up again.

Seunghyun took his time, licking everywhere besides where you needed him the most. When his tongue teased at your entrance, it caught you by surprise, so you pulled in a sharp breath. Seunghyun clearly took delight in the sound you made, because he laughed against you, a sensation that only drove you crazier.

“I love how you taste,” he muttered against you, his voice muffled. “And the way you always get so wet for me. What is it that I do to make you like this?”

“Everything,” you whispered, truthfully.

Seunghyun scooted a little closer to you, his fingers spreading you open to be able to get his tongue where you needed it. The tip of his tongue circled your clit, slowly, making tighter circles each pass until finally he flicked over it. You could actually feel yourself drip onto the sofa cushion beneath you, the teasing already too much for you.

His tongue toyed with you lazily, one hand keeping you spread while the fingers of his other hand clenched your thigh. Your eyes slipped closed, the sensation overtaking you, spreading warmth through your whole body. Your hands tugged your shirt up your torso so you could cup your breasts, finding your nipples already hard.

Soft, raspy groans rattled in your throat, your hips shifting impatiently and your back giving a small arch. Seunghyun remained focused, not bothering with speed but instead passion, because he wanted to enjoy every second you had together. When you felt his index finger circle your entrance, your heart rate accelerated, anticipation causing your breaths to shudder.

“Fuck,” you whispered softly, nudging your hips towards him. He didn’t make you wait before he pushed his finger inside of you, shallow at first but it was enough to make you whine for him. “I love your fingers,” you said, not sure why you admitted it right then, but you feel him chuckle against you.

“You love what they do to you,” he muttered, pushing his finger into you as deep as he could, and you reward him with a moan of his name. He used his thumb to stroke your clit while he continued to speak. “It’s okay; I love what you do to my fingers,” he went on, leaving tender kisses on your inner thigh. ”When you hold my hand and you play with them. Or when you suck on them. My favorite is when you clench around them, like you’re doing right now.”

“I like those things, too,” you responded, slipping one of your hands under the blanket to touch his face as he still gently worked you with his hand. He nuzzled against your hand, then gave a quick kiss to your palm, before he ducked his head back to resume licking your clit. “I like how your hands feel all over me,” you ground out. “They’re so soft and you…fuck—!”

You were cut off by Seunghyun sucking on your clit, still pumping his index finger in and out of you at a soft and steady pace. Your hand that was under the blanket gripped his hair, threading your fingers through and fisting so you could keep him right where he was. Seunghyun moaned against you, and you felt the vibrations through your entire body, which only made you tug his hair harder.

“Fuck, I like when you do that,” he paused to tell you, but took the opportunity to work his middle finger into you as well.

“Pull your hair?” you gasped.

“Yes,” he responded. “Keep telling me what you like.” He sucked on your clit again, more pressure but stopped to tease it with the tip of his tongue every so often. His fingers pumped into you a little more forcefully, getting as deep as he could each time.

“Your hands…” you continued, breathless. “When your fingers touch my throat…or when they touch my breasts and nipples.”

You felt him shift around on the sofa, not slowing or even stopping his torture of you while he presumably gets into a better positions. When his free hand slid up your body, finding your shirt already pulled up your torso, he cupped one of your bare breasts, pinching your nipple between his fingers. When your thighs involuntarily clenched around him, your hips grinding against his face, he moaned again and it felt like a jolt through your body. You felt your orgasm creeping up from deep within you, and you knew you would feel it all over when it hit.

“It’s so good,” you stuttered out.

“Mhm,” Seunghyun hummed, thrusting his fingers faster into you, curling them up to hit your favorite spot.

“Fuck!” you gasped, tugging on his hair again, hoping to feel him moan against you. When he does it’s deeper and more ravenous, accompanied by even more attention to your clit and his fingers thrusting faster. “I’m gonna—!”

It hit you so slowly and so thoroughly, you could only moan his name, moving your hips along with his motions so you could ride it out. You felt your body tremble, shuddering from an orgasm unlike you’d ever felt. When he finally slowed and came to a stop, you were able to release your grip in his hair, your body relaxing into the sofa as you try to catch your breath.

“Good girl,” Seunghyun mumbled, kissing along your inner thighs once again before tossing the blanket from off of his head to see you. “Did that feel good, princess?”

“It felt incredible,” you sighed, grabbing him by his shoulders and pulling him towards you. He chuckled as he climbed up your body, settling between your spread thighs — you could feel how hard he was, pressing against your wetness.

You kissed him deeply, trying to taste yourself in every crevice of his mouth. The sensation of his clothes, especially his soft grey sweater, rubbing against your already fiery skin made your thighs tighten around his slender hips, keeping him close. He chuckled into the kiss, breaking away, much to your disappointment.

“Let’s watch some more videos,” he said, simply.

You smiled up at him, stealing one last peck on the lips before he climbed off of you. You pulling your shirt back over your torso, and tossed your torn panties to the floor with a sigh. Seunghyun maneuvered you how he wanted you: on your side so he was able to lay on his side behind you. His arms were wrapped around you holding you snugly against him, his head resting against yours, the blanket draped over your bodies. You would have loved to fall asleep like this, to savor every moment that you get without interruption, but you feel him: hard and pressed to your backside.

“Baby,” you whispered, arching your back so that you pressed more firmly against him. He hummed in satisfaction, his hand that was on top of you pressed to your hip to stop your movements.

“You don’t have to worry about me, princess,” he said, squeezing your hip. “I came here to take care of you.”

“And now I want to take care of you, too.”

You reached behind your back, pressing your hand to him over his jeans. You cupped his bulge, massaging him softly at first just to listen to his breathy moans in your ear. His arm that was beneath you tightens, pulling your body more firmly to his as he grinds against your hand.

“Before we started seeing each other…” Seunghyun began, his voice so deep you feel it rumbling in his chest. “Did you ever…touch yourself while you thought of me?”

“Yes,” you admitted, your fingers fumbling with his belt, desperate to get your hand on him.

“What would you think of?” Seunghyun gently shoved your hand away so he could take over the task of unfastening his pants. You didn’t want to tell him what it was you thought of the most, it was too silly. You hoped that if you ignored his question he’d forget, so you pulled your shirt up your torso and shoved the blanket down your bodies. “You don’t want to tell me?” Seunghyun chuckled breathlessly, as you lifted your leg to give him access to you.

“It’s embarrassing,” you muttered. You felt the tip of his erection pressing to your entrance momentarily before he pushed in to the hilt.

“Fuck,” he rasped, grabbing your thigh so he could hold your leg high enough to begin his thrusts into you. “I told you before. It’s just you and I. You can tell me.”

You whined, a needy and frustrated noise, because you wanted him to go harder, but he took his time, ignoring what you wanted in favor of making it last. His arm around your body shifted so he could cup your breast again, using it as leverage to pull your body against his as he angled his hips to thrust deeper. You blindly reached behind your head so you could pull his hair again, and you turned your head enough to meet him for a kiss.

You bent at your waist, grabbing onto the front edge of the sofa so you were able to angle your leg backwards and press your foot on the back of the sofa. Seunghyun thrusted his hips against you with more force, both of his arms wrapped around your torso to keep you still while he worked.

“The...the costume from the Bae Bae video,” you muttered, finally admitting something you’d felt too shy to say. “The contacts and the suit…it’s just…sexy.”

“That’s what you thought of when you fingered yourself?” he asked, his voice strained as he started thrusting faster.

“Sometimes,” you groaned. “Fuck, baby.” You reached behind you, grabbing onto his arm that holds you still so you can try to work yourself against his motions. “Please, I need—”

“Harder, princess? Mhm, I can tell you’re close again.” He pulled his arm from your grasp, and placed it instead on his side so he could reach between your thighs to rub your clit. “C’mon, my good girl,” he whispers, plowing into you harder and harder. “I love to feel you come around me.”

You held a fistful of his sweater as you came, trying to help him along so he could come, too. You could feel the way he throbbed inside of you as your walls clamped down around him. Your moans grew louder and his thrusts became less steady, his own orgasm hitting him hard. You both worked your bodies faster and sloppier to ride out the waves of your climaxes together.

You stayed in that position for a few moments until you dropped your leg from the back of the sofa and snuggled closer against Seunghyun. You kept your hips at the right angle to hold him inside of you as long as you could before he had to pull out, both of you letting out groans at the loss of contact. When you leaned your body back against him, he tightened his arms around you and kissed your temple.

“Are you staying over?” you asked, shy, feeling childish asking a silly question. You felt him chuckle, the vibrations rattling through you.

“If you’ll let me,” he responded.

“Of course.” You snatched one of his hands from around your body, lacing your fingers with his and bringing them both to your mouth, kissing his knuckles. “I should get cleaned up,” you said. “I can feel you leaking out of me.”

“Mmm, good,” he hummed, his free hand wandering down your body so his fingers could gently shove his come back into you. “I didn’t say you could do that.” His voice was huskier then, and you felt it jolt through you, but you shook your head with a small laugh, stopping his hand.

“You’re going to work me up again,” you warned. “I think I’m too tired to go again.”

“Okay, I’ll stop,” he relented. “We can get cleaned up instead. Whatever you want.”

Once you both cleaned yourselves up in the bathroom, you changed into fresh clothes, giving Seunghyun a pair of boxer shorts that you generally slept in. You climbed into bed, motioning for him to join you. When he laid down beside you, both of you peering into one another’s eyes, he laughed quietly.

“What?” you asked.

“Bae Bae, huh?”

“I shouldn’t have said that one,” you lamented, feeling your cheeks flush in embarrassment. But Seunghyun grabbed you by your hips, pulling your body closer to his so he could kiss you.

“I’ll wear them for you one day,” he promised. “But you’d better be a dirty girl for me if I do, princess.” You tried to hide your excitement and embarrassment, but Seunghyun saw it immediately. “I love when you get shy,” he smirked, stealing a gentle kiss.

“I love everything you do,” you responded, cuddling closer to him as you felt yourself growing sleepier by the moment.

[sapphiresaphics]

You’re right. It is polite to do that. But it’s also… I dunno… kinda boring? And it often doesn’t push the story forward.

Let’s look at it this way: We know that initially they planned on several additional seasons and ultimately were only given 2. We don’t know when that cut back was dictated to them from up on high, but it’s very easy to assume it happened sometime between season 1 and 2’s production. Very likely after most of season 1’s setup had already been finished and animated.

And, given how little time they had available to them for season 2, they opted instead to focus on ways to communicate this stuff non-verbally most of the time and to trust that we, as smart intelligent viewers, can piece together stuff ourselves.

They have a grand total of 18 episodes in total for this entire show. There are other shows that have double that number for just one season. Time is of the essence and every frame costs hundreds of dollars. So if it’s not really relevant it goes on the cutting room floor. Arcane is nothing if not EFFICIENT with its storytelling. And that’s a stylistic choice the creators have made.

And let’s not forget this doesn’t just exist around Caitlyn. Vi never apologizes for punching Powder as a kid. She apologizes for leaving and calling her a Jinx, but never for punching her. Vi also punches Isha. It’s an accident, but she still never apologizes for that either. Ekko never apologizes for kidnapping Vi and Caitlyn. Jinx never apologizes for killing Ekko’s friends. Jayce never apologizes for killing a child. Ambessa never apologizes for slapping Mel. Heimerdinger never apologizes for letting the undercity’s problems fester for so long. Mel never really apologizes for using Jayce and Viktor as investments. The list goes on. So WHY is it ONLY on Caitlyn in these critiques about the show?

A couple more little quibbles and distinctions:

Vi was never forced to become an enforcer. When Caitlyn asks her to become an enforcer, Vi turns her down. It’s not until after Caitlyn almost dies during the memorial attack does Vi reconsider the offer. And she doesn’t do it because she was pressured into it, she does it because she wants to keep Caitlyn safe. The only thing Vi trusts are her fists. If she’s there, she can take care of Jinx while also protecting the woman she loves. Even if it means putting on the Enforcer uniform.

Also, Vi doesn’t care about Zaun all that much. She never fought for the city. In fact, she has been actively hostile towards Zaun since Season 1. Let’s not forget that she went in performing vigilante Justice and got a kid killed in the process. Her goal has always been to protect her family, and that means people like Jinx and Caitlyn.

As for the “I’m sorry I was wrong?” Caitlyn DOES that. It’s just non-verbally. See, when Caitlyn has Jinx locked up she doesn’t know what to do with her. She has seen first hand that Jinx can be trusted. She is not the maniacal raving lunatic that killed her mother anymore. She has changed. She tries to talk to Jinx, but that doesn’t help her make a decision.

So she lets Vi choose. She intentionally leaves the prison empty of guards and allows Vi to steal the keys to free her sister. She has no guarantee that she will ever see Vi again, and she suspects that Vi and Jinx will just run away together. That’s why when she goes down there and finds Vi locked in the cell instead of Jinx, she knows what happened. And when Vi is at her lowest, thinking she betrayed Caitlyn by going behind her back to free Jinx against her wishes, Caitlyn tells her “no, I let you do this. Because I give up on hating your sister. You are more important to me than my hatred of Jinx and you should be free to make your own decisions about who you get to love.”

That’s WHY Vi jumps on Caitlyn in the prison cell. Caitlyn just told her that she was giving up stoking the flames of the fire that tore them apart. This is akin to a loved one giving up alcohol or smoking or going to therapy or basically tossing aside their abusive habits because their love for their partner is more important to them than their vices. That was like the BIGGEST apology Caitlyn could ever give Vi. No amount of “I’m sorry” does THAT justice.

I get it, you wanted her to SAY the words. But the show doesn’t do that. The show is a VISUAL show and ACTIONS speak louder than words ever could. So Arcane does Caitlyn’s apology through her actions. To assume the worst in Caitlyn after such a grand gesture is kinda silly IMO.

No disrespect, I just find a lot of this stuff to be kinda nitpicky. The show is a visual show. It tells its narrative visually. It always has. It always will. Demanding Caitlyn say “sorry” when no one else ever does and ignoring that she performs one of the greatest acts of love you could give a partner is frustrating to say the least.

“Caitlyn never apologizes for her actions so how do we know she’s remorseful of them?”

Well you see… when Caitlyn gets asked if she likes men or women by Vi, we never get an answer from Caitlyn there either. But then later in the episode we SEE her behaving differently and flirting with a woman. So that answers our question for us. We don’t need to hear her say “I’m a lesbian” or “I like girls” because the show SHOWS us that she likes girls.

Often times if you have a concern like this, it IS addressed in the show. Just not in blatantly obvious and vocal ways. You actually need to pay attention.

So like… yea, we don’t really hear Caitlyn say outright “I feel remorse for my actions” but there’s like a MOUNTAIN of evidence (Kirammountains worth haha) that show she feels this way. From her confrontational arguments with Ambessa, to her pointing a gun at singe, to her sneaking around tracking singe, to her betraying Ambessa, to her shouting “I know!” when confronted by Vi, to her saying to Jinx “hating you I’ve hated myself,” to her ultimately letting Vi free her sister thus proving to Vi that she’s letting her hatred for Jinx go, to her sad “are you still in this fight, Violet?” at the end of the show… using the context clues the characters provide through facial acting and body language we can TELL that she’s remorseful.

Imagine that!

[wvyik]

you wanna?.. d.w. ᝰ.ᐟ

dean winchester x fem! reader

summary; dean’s been acting weird all morning, but you don’t think much of it — until he casually slides something across the table between bites of waffles. And just like that, your whole world tilts.

warnings; mdni!! pre-established relationship, aggressively casual proposal, dean being a menace as usual, fluff so sweet it might kill you!!… eventual smut (because let’s be real, this man does not propose without following through. is skip able though!!). dirty talk, dom! dean, oral sex, praise kink, unprotected sex, after care cause ima softie.

notes; AHH!! had so much fun with this one. tysm for all the support >ᴗ< i appreciate you all!! tbh this is the best thing I’ve ever written in a while. we love dean with a happy ending. ꒰˶  - ˕ -꒱ buckle up for the spicy stuff later!! as always, feel free to drop a comment or yell at me if you’re feeling some type of way about this. i’m here for it.

words; 4420

It’s early. Too early.

You’re exhausted in that way only hunters understand— the kind that seeps into your bones, makes your muscles ache, keeps you in that hazy space between asleep and awake, even with a steaming cup of coffee cradled between your hands.

Dean, of course, looks annoyingly good for someone who barely got any sleep. His hair is a mess, there’s a fading bruise on his jaw from last night’s hunt, but he’s still effortlessly him — green eyes warm with amusement, shoulders relaxed, mouth curling into a smirk as he watches you fight to keep your eyes open.

“You look like you got run over,” he says, the corners of his lips twitching.

You take a slow sip of your coffee, staring at him blankly. “Thanks. You always know just what to say.”

He chuckles, reaching for his own mug. “Just speakin’ the truth, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes but don’t argue. Not now, anyway. You’re definitely too tired for that.

The sound of Dean shuffling around the motel room pulls you out of your half-sleep. You crack open one eye, only to find him already dressed, boots laced up, and pacing with that ‘we’re about to hit the road’ look in his eyes. His leather jacket is hanging on the back of the chair.

You rub your eyes, groaning, and try to keep the sleepiness from spilling out of you. “Do we really have to go now?”

Dean grins, not even bothering to look at you. “You know how I feel about sitting still.”

You roll your eyes again, itching to bargain with him, but knowing if you did, he’d just drag you into whatever shenanigans he had planned for the day anyway. After a couple of minutes, the room starts to feel too small, and the silence is making your head spin, so you sit up. The plan— at least, the unspoken one — was to hit the road after a quick breakfast, and you’ve learned that when Dean Winchester says quick, he means quick.

The car ride isn’t long. Dean’s humming along to the radio, steering with one hand as he swerves around potholes, and you’re trying to ignore how damn good he looks in the morning light filtering through the car windows. Eventually, the sound of the engine and the warmth of the sun lull you into a comfortable quiet. You’re barely paying attention when you both pull up to an old diner on the side of the highway, a place that looks like it’s been around longer than you’ve been alive.

Dean parks and shoots you a look and smirks. “I’ll bet you ten bucks the pie here could change your life.”

You raise an eyebrow but don’t question it. You know better than to doubt him by now.

The diner is quiet, just a few truckers scattered at the counter, the hum of conversation mixing with the low crackle of an old radio playing Blue Öyster Cult in the background. The air smells like burnt coffee and bacon grease, and the vinyl booth seat sticks slightly to your thigh where your jeans have a tear, but it’s…nice.

Comfortable.

It’s one of those rare, normal mornings. No hunts lined up. No immediate danger. Just you, Dean, and a crappy little diner on the side of the road.

You should’ve known he was up to something.

Dean’s been acting weird all morning.

Not in an obvious way. He’s still teasing you, still stuffing his face with an ungodly amount of waffles and bacon, still shooting you that signature smirk every time you make a face at him.

But his knee is bouncing under the table. His fingers keep drumming against his coffee cup. And every once in a while, you catch him looking at you — this soft, thoughtful expression flickering across his face before he shakes it off.

You think about asking. But then your waitress swings by again, and Dean immediately perks up, flashing her a charming smile as she tops off his coffee.

“Another round of waffles, darlin’?” she asks, clearly smitten. You don’t blame her.

You smile softly behind your mug as Dean leans back, cocky as ever. “Wouldn’t say no.”

The waitress laughs, shaking her head. “You got a hell of an appetite.”

“That’s what she said,” Dean mutters under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

You kick him under the table. He deserved that one.

By the time the waitress walks away, Dean is already back to his food, completely unfazed. You shake your head, cutting into your own waffle, stealing one of his bacon strips just to be a menace. He lets you.

And then— casual as anything, like he’s commenting on the weather— he reaches into his pocket, pulls out something, and slides it across the table toward you.

A ring.

Just sitting there. Between your plate and the salt shaker.

Your brain short-circuits. You stare at it, then at him. Then back at it.

Dean, the absolute menace that he is, doesn’t even look up from his food. Just swipes some syrup with his fork, chews, and— without a single ounce of drama — says,

“You wanna?”

You blink. Your mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. Because what the hell is happening right now?

Dean finally looks at you, chewing like this is just another Thursday.

“What?” he says around a mouthful of food.

Your heart is slamming against your ribs. You feel warm all over, but you can’t tell if it’s from the crappy diner coffee or the fact that Dean Winchester just proposed to you like he was offering you the last french fry.

“That’s your proposal?” Your voice comes out hoarse, disbelief and laughter mixing in your throat.

Dean tilts his head, squinting at you. “What, you want me to get down on one knee in a greasy diner?”

“You literally just slid it across the table like it was a packet of sugar!”

He shrugs, still watching you, still unreadable in that way that makes your stomach flip. “Ain’t exactly my style, sweetheart.”

Your fingers shake as you reach for the ring. It’s simple— silver, understated, perfect. It feels warm from being in his pocket, the edges smooth against your skin.

Dean’s watching you carefully now. The teasing is gone, replaced by something softer, something quieter.

And that’s when it hits you.

Dean Winchester— who has faced monsters, demons, literal hell — is nervous. Like he’s bracing for impact. Like there’s a real, tangible fear in him that you might say no.

Your throat tightens.

“You really want this?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

Dean exhales through his nose, sets his fork down. He leans forward slightly, arms resting on the table, eyes locked onto yours.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice steady now, sure in a way that makes you melt. “I already got you. This is just making it official.”

Your heart stumbles. Because of course he’d say it like that. Like it was never even a question, like you already belonged to each other. Like you always would.

The ring feels solid between your fingers, grounding. It’s not grand or flashy. It’s him. It’s you. It’s perfect.

And god,

You don’t cry, but it’s a close thing.

You swallow hard, slip it onto your finger. It fits like it was meant to.

Dean watches, lets out a breath like he was holding it for years, and then— because you know him, because you love him— you smirk and say,

“You better get me a pie for this.”

That knocks the tension right out of him. His mouth quirks, the easy grin sliding back into place. “Damn right, I will.”

And just like that, you’re engaged. Not with a big speech. Not with grand gestures. Just this. Just him.

In a tiny diner off the highway, with bad coffee and waffles and the love of your life sitting across from you, grinning like a fool.

You bite your lip, trying to hold back the flood of emotions building up in your chest. You weren’t expecting this. Hell, you didn’t even know you needed it. But now that it’s here, now that he’s here, you feel like your whole world is shifting into place.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” you whisper, leaning your forehead against his.

Dean chuckles, the sound deep and warm. “You’re the one that’s perfect, sweetheart. I’m just lucky.”

You shake your head slightly, not sure how to respond. You’ve been together for so long now, and yet, this moment still feels like a beginning. Like everything that came before— every hunt, every stupid argument, every late-night conversation— it was all leading to this. To this small, simple, perfect moment in a stupid dingy diner.

Dean cups your face, tilting your chin up so you’re looking directly at him. There’s a quiet intensity in his eyes, and for once, you see a rawness that he doesn’t always show.

“You know that’s the thing,” he murmurs. “It’s not about what you deserve. It’s about what you’re willing to fight for. And you—” He pauses, his thumb gently brushing over your cheek. “You’re worth every damn fight, sweetheart. Always will be.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, and you realize you’re not even breathing properly. It’s overwhelming, the way he can say so much with so little. His words hit you deeper than you expected, more than you thought you needed.

“I’m in this. All the way, okay?” he says softly, like he’s reminding you, like he’s trying to make sure you know it, truly know it. “I don’t do half-assed. Not with you.”

“I know,” you reply, your voice barely more than a whisper, the emotions bubbling up.

His lips press against your forehead, soft and tender. And in that moment, you know—you know—that you’re not just his. He’s yours too. No matter what comes next, you’re a team.

Dean pulls back, a playful smile tugging at his lips again, trying to break the weight of the moment. “So, uh, you think I could maybe get a little ‘yes’ out of you? Just a tiny one?”

You laugh softly, your chest full. You tilt your head, looking up at him with a smile that feels too big for your face. “Yeah. Yeah, you could.”

Dean’s eyes light up, a twinkle in them like he’s won the lottery, like this was the answer he’s been waiting for. He presses another kiss to your lips—brief, but meaningful.

And for the first time in a long time, you feel like you can breathe. Like the world, in all its chaos, has paused just for you two. Like nothing else matters except the person standing in front of you.

You know there will be bad days, tough hunts, and fights, but for now, this moment is enough. This love is enough.

And you, you finally feel like you’ve found where you belong.

“Guess we should finish our waffles, huh?” Dean says, the mood lightening again, but his hand still resting on yours.

You chuckle, your heart still racing. “Yeah. But let’s take it slow, okay? We’ve got all the time in the world.”

Dean grins, that cocky, perfect grin you know so well. “Works for me.”

As you both finish your meal— laughing, talking about whatever random thing crosses your mind— there’s an understanding between you two now. You don’t need big gestures or flashy moments to know what’s real.

What’s real is here. What’s real is you two.

And it’s always been that way.

Back in the motel room, the door clicked shut behind you with a soft thud. The dim light from the lamp on the nightstand cast long shadows across the room, the only sound the faint hum of the old air conditioning. The weight of the night pressed in on you— quiet, comfortable, and full of possibilities you weren’t ready to voice just yet.

Dean kicked off his boots and tossed his jacket onto the chair by the door, then turned to face you. There was something different in his eyes now, something deeper, as if the last few hours had opened up a door neither of you could walk away from.

You stood by the bed, your heart thumping in your chest, but your feet seemed glued to the floor, unsure of what came next. His gaze flickered down to your hand, still resting in his from the diner, then back up to your face. That smile— always so effortless, so charming— pulled at the corner of his lips.

“You good?” he asked, voice soft, but with that low, steady warmth you knew so well.

“Yeah,” you whispered, your words barely escaping as your breath hitched. Your heart was racing, but you felt rooted to the spot, unsure if you should make the first move or wait for him to pull you in again.

Dean’s eyes never left yours as he slowly closed the distance between you, his movements slow, deliberate. You could feel the space between you getting smaller, the air in the room suddenly feeling thicker, charged with that same electricity you couldn’t ignore.

When he finally reached you, his hand came up to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was soft, but there was no mistaking the heat in his fingers, the way they lingered just a little longer than necessary, as if he was trying to memorize the feel of your skin.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, eyes fluttering shut for a second, just to take in the moment. He was so close now. Close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off of him, close enough that the faint scent of the leather jacket he had left behind filled your senses.

Dean’s lips brushed against yours with a familiarity that made your heart skip a beat. This wasn’t the first time— far from it— but each time felt like it was. Every kiss was still a little bit like a spark, each one lighting a new fire. And tonight, there was something different. Something deeper, even though you’d been here before.

His fingers trailed down your arm again, slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing every inch of your skin as if he couldn’t get enough of it. You shifted beneath him, feeling the tension of the moment settle between your legs, but it wasn’t rushed. It never was with him.

“You know what you do to me, right?” Dean’s voice was low, rougher now, but laced with that familiar tenderness. He didn’t need to say it, not really. You could feel it in every touch, every lingering kiss.

You nodded, your lips parting as you leaned up to meet him halfway, pressing your body closer to his. You’d been here before, but that didn’t mean it ever lost its power. It was still just as electrifying, just as sweet.

His hands moved to the waistband of your jeans, pausing for just a moment as his eyes locked onto yours, searching for any hesitation. But there was none. You didn’t need words; your body told him everything. Your jeans met the floor with a slight thud.

With a deep, almost frustrated sigh, Dean pushed your jeans down just enough to slide his hand under them, his fingers skating over the curve of your hip. It was familiar, comforting even, but the way he touched you now felt different. There was a slowness, an intentional care in every movement. Like he wanted to savor you this time.

His lips met yours again, but this kiss was slower, more languid, as if he was taking his time, soaking in the moment. He kissed you like he was letting his feelings pour into every movement, every press of his lips, until the rest of the world disappeared.

“You make me forget everything else, you know that?” Dean’s breath was hot against your ear, his hands expertly undressing you, but it was still slow. As if he was enjoying the feel of your skin more than the outcome of it. You could tell that this wasn’t about rushing, about getting to the end. This was about being with you, right here, right now.

You breathed his name again, a plea more than a whisper, and Dean, ever the attentive lover, responded immediately, his lips trailing down your neck, to your chest, as his hand wandered over you, knowing exactly where to touch to make your breath hitch.

But this time, it wasn’t about the heat of the moment— it was about the slow, delicious build of something bigger. His lips left a trail of soft, lingering kisses across your skin as his hand gently slid down your side, his touch grounding you to the bed. His body moved against yours with that familiar rhythm, but tonight, it felt like it meant more. Like you meant more.

He paused for just a moment, looking at you with those eyes—dark and soft all at once. “I love you, ‘s fucking much. I wanna make you feel so good, baby.” His voice was thick with something deep, something serious, and it made your chest tighten with emotion.

You nodded, pulling him back to you, pressing your lips to his with a fierce intensity. It wasn’t just the physical connection anymore. This was something that went deeper, something stronger than before. And you wanted it. You wanted him.

Dean groaned as you tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as he moved between your legs. You moan, as he skillfully worked his fingers in you, slowly climbing on top of you— as your head hit the not-so-soft pillows on the bed. You could feel the thrum of his heartbeat against yours, steady and strong.

“Dean…” The word came out like a breath, your fingers gripping his shoulders as you tugged him back up, wanting his lips on yours again. He smirked, just slightly, but there was nothing playful in the way his eyes held yours. It was all raw, all real.

“Easy,” he whispered, voice gruff but gentle as his thumb traced over your lip. “Atta girl, doing so good for me.. Don’t worry bout’ it, we can take your time.”

You nodded, your eyes heavy with desire but filled with trust. “I need you, De..” Your voice was soft, but there was a definite edge to it. The words felt like they had weight, like they meant something. Something more than just this moment.

He exhaled deeply, eyes darkening as his hand slid to your waist, guiding you beneath him as he moved down on you, slipping your panties fully off. The space between you was so minimal now that it felt like you were one.

His mouth lightly sucked on your needy clit, his thick fingers still working their magic inside you. You couldn’t help but let out an almost pornographic moan. You were so close, he could tell.

“Mhm, honey.. let it out, cum on my face,” he whispered against your needy pussy. The stubble on his jaw teasing you even more, as he practically buried his face in your wetness.

Oh, you were a goner. “Dean— fuck, I’m gonna—“ You didn’t even finish your sentence as the orgasm came rushing through you. As dean still worked, still slurping up your juices in his mouth like his life depended on it.

He finally let his face out of between your thighs, kissing you gently— letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“You’re incredible,” Dean muttered, his voice raw as he pressed his forehead against yours, breathing deeply. “Never forget that.”

You met his gaze, your chest tight with emotion. “I won’t. Not with you.”

Dean’s lips found yours in a deep kiss, and as he slowly pulled back, his hand moved to your waist, gently coaxing your hips up against his. His jeans came off, so did the shirt — the sound of the zipper loud in the quiet of the room, and you felt a rush of heat flood your body again. He was so close, and yet, there was still something in the way he touched you that made everything feel like it was building to something more.

“Don’t tease me,” you whispered, your voice a little breathless, but there was a hint of playfulness too—something you knew he’d pick up on.

He smirked, his lips brushing your jaw as his body settled between your legs. “Me? Tease?” His voice was a teasing mockery of innocence, but there was nothing innocent in the way he touched you, nothing at all.

“Oh, yeah, and this? Off.” He gestured to your shirt, earning a chuckle from you. He skillfully pulled the shirt off of you, unclasping your bra with ease, gently touching up on your breasts.

Dean’s eyes never left yours, that fire still burning in them, but there was a softness there too, a tenderness that made your chest tighten. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, the words slipping from his lips like a prayer. His lips moved to your neck again.

You looked at him wide-eyed, as he pressed his lips back onto yours briefly, before sliding one hand down his boxers, pulling his hard cock out of its confinements, already leaking with pre-cum. You never get tired of seeing it, really.

There’s a hunger in his gaze, but it’s a hunger you recognize—one that’s been building between you two, one that isn’t just about tonight. It’s deeper, quieter, but oh so real.

“Y’ ready for me?..” he murmured, and you could only respond with a soft ‘mhm’ sound, too turned on to make any proper sentence.

You’re not just the next moment in line for him— you’re everything. His hand on your skin, his body pressed to yours, it’s all proof of the quiet trust that’s been growing between you since day one.

You can feel the way his chest rises and falls with each breath, as he slowly pushes inside of you, his heart beating steady against yours. It’s like he’s giving you all of him, in this simple, quiet way, and you know you have his heart just as much as he has yours

“That’s it— Jesus, sweetheart. You’re still so fucking tight, can’t believe it’” he chuckles slowly, and you whimper when he finally gives all of himself for you. And he waits for your permission to start moving.

“De.. okay— you can move.” You manage to say breathlessly after a little bit. Nothing can prepare you for that moment, though. As he slowly moves in and out you swear you see stars. And gosh, the sounds that fill the room, it’s so goddamn good, you think before biting down the moan.

“Mhm, yeah.. So fuckin’ perfect, angel, you’re doing so well for me.” He almost whimpered. Goddamn you, Dean — And your filthy mouth.

His lips found yours again, and the kiss was deeper this time— full of assurance, of trust, of a promise that nothing could tear apart. You could feel how much he believed in the two of you, in the bond you shared.

His hands roamed your body, confident and firm, like he knew exactly where to touch to make you lose your breath. Every movement was purposeful, a teasing promise of what was to come.

“De— m’ so close, please” you managed to whimper through the moans, trying to keep up with his pace with your hips.

His lips lingered along your neck, kissing and nipping at your skin, his breath hot against your ear. “I know baby, me too. You can come, sweetness, m’ right there with you.” he murmured, his voice a hushed growl that sent shivers down your spine.

As you both reached your climax, you can’t help but smile. After the world-shifting intensity of the moment, you both lay there, tangled up in sheets and each other. Dean shifted just enough to pull you close, his chest rising and falling with a steady rhythm against yours, as though he was grounding himself in the softness of your presence.

His fingers brushed gently through your hair, the touch so tender it was almost as if he was trying to memorize every strand, every curve of you. The warmth between you didn’t need words; it was enough to feel him there, still connected to you in every possible way.

“Are you okay?” Dean’s voice was low, but it carried that softness you’d only hear when the walls were down and he wasn’t trying to hide anything. There was a genuine worry in his tone, an unwavering need to make sure you were feeling just as safe and cared for as he felt.

You nodded against his chest, your hand resting over his heart, feeling the steady beat that reminded you of the calm after the storm. “I’m perfect,” you whispered, your voice still a little breathless, but full of warmth.

Dean chuckled softly, the sound low and comforting, like it always was when he felt content. “Good. ‘Cause I’ve got you, and I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured, pulling you closer, his arm draping over you protectively as if making sure you stayed there, safe in his arms.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, the gesture soft and caring, his way of showing that there was more to him than just the physical connection. It was always about the little things—the way his touch lingered, the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, like you were the only person in the world that mattered.

There was no rush to get up, no need to fill the space with words that didn’t need to be said. You both understood each other in the quiet.

Dean’s thumb brushed against your hand in a rhythm that made you feel grounded, like he was telling you he was there in ways that didn’t need to be explained. Slowly, you let your eyes flutter closed, wrapped in the softness of his care, feeling safer than you had ever felt.

He kissed your forehead again, his voice barely above a whisper. “We’re good, you and me. Always gonna be good.”

And in that moment, with the faintest smile tugging at your lips, you knew he meant every word. The world outside the room didn’t matter, not when you had this—this peace, this love, this feeling of being completely and utterly cared for.

taglist; @lieutenantchaos ⊹ ࣪ ˖

tysm for reading pooks! more works incoming @ library. ⊹₊⟡⋆

── all rights reserved © 2025 wvyik | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[thesuperiorrobin]

Safe space~

Pairing: Damian Wayne x Fem!Crush!Reader

Warnings: none

Damian needed to get out of the house.

Immediately.

Somehow, everybody seemed to be pushing his buttons just right, from the way Jason would just come in unannounced and eat the food while chewing loudly, Dick trying to invade his personal space while completely yelling in his ear, and when Tim would enter a room he was in he would get this annoyed and ticked off feeling that just had him puffing and glaring at the tired man. He needed to leave the manor or else the entire building would be ashes on the ground in the next ten minutes. Bruce was nowhere to be seen and Alfred was doing his own little thing in the kitchen, probably feeding a very hungry Jason.

Damian hides himself in a black car that belonged to his father, a nice old Aston Martin DBS and as he sits in the driver's seat with his phone in his hands he can only stare at the screen, thumbs typing away.

Damian: are you awake?

His eyes glance up at the time on his phone, reading 10:37 pm. He hopes you’re awake, considering it’s a school night after all. He waits for a response, three minutes go by and his phone vibrates in his hands.

You: yeah was literally about to go to bed and rote until 3 am.

You: why? Wanna play Roblox?

You: see I told you it wasn’t so bad. Now I got you addicted 🙄🤚

Damian rolls his eyes at his screencast shaking his head as he starts to type. On your side of the screen, you can see the bubble disappear and appear, for a solid minute before he finally sends the message.

Damian: if you are not busy, I would like for you to accompany me.

You: YAY ROADTRIP😩

You: where we going?

You: also I’m like broke .38 cents isn’t really going get me anything.

Damian: Anywhere. I just need to get out of the house to take a breather and don’t worry about it, whatever you need I’ll get it for you.

You: you okay? Did something happen?

Damian: No. Just be ready when I get there.

You: okay😑

He really hates that stupid emoji.

You’re running out the door when you get the ‘I’m here’ message from him and Damian watches as you almost miss a step and trip over your own feet. You make it into his car in one piece and buckle yourself in.

Damian can see that you were getting ready to lay in bed, entering his car with your hair out of your face, all cozied up with warm black pants that had kuromis imprinted all over, and a black zip-up sweater that’s keeping you warm.

“Helloooo~” you breathe out, placing your tote bag on your lap as you glance at Damian “So where we going?”

“Are you hungry?”

“Yeah….but I wanna skip the meal and go straight for the dessert!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah” you shrug “we got free will, why not use it”

This is where you were now, in the car as your choice of music plays softly, after Damian so kindly gave you the Aux after complaining about his music taste for a solid minute. Your seat is, moved back giving you room to get comfortable as you face Damian with your leg bent over the other.

You seem to be yapping away with the milkshake in hand as you wave it around slightly and he listens, eating away at his ice cream cone as he watches your every move.

Damian feels at ease, relaxing up against his seat as he glances at you—eyeing every feature on your face. From every eyelash to every acne scar to every birthmark to the smile lines that grace your face. He’s memorized them by now. You feel his eyes on you, and as you glance up to stare up at him he looks away shyly.

Clearly out of character for him.

“Is there something on my face?” you question as your arms reach out to pull down the car's visor, seeing as it had a little mirror to look at with little lights to see in the dark “Do I have whipped cream on me?”

“No… just thinking” he breathes out, eyes fixed out ahead of him.

You hum, eyes never leaving the visor as you answer back “Does that have anything to do with why you wanted to get out of the house tonight?”

He doesn’t answer instead, he takes a glance back at you. You’re staring back at him with a questionable look, visor now put back up. He takes a look at your hand, fingernails shining in the moonlight.

“Did you get your nails done?” He’s quick with the topic change, seeing as you glance down to show him but you retreat your hand back with a glare.

“Don’t change the subject!”

It takes hums a moment to answer before sighing “It was nothing serious….every little thing my brothers did irritate me”

“Ah…sibling irritation” you let out a breathy laugh “I get it, your brothers can be a handful sometimes”

At least you get him, others really wouldn’t, and his father sometimes doesn’t. It’s not like he had any siblings growing up anyway. Sometimes people would disagree with him, but you seem to agree with everything he says even if he’s wrong, which is rare, but you still do anyway.

Sooner or later the conversation seems to shift from a different topic to another different topic—and it seems like the cycle continues for hours.

He likes this.

You aren’t loud, you aren’t slurping away at your drink and your presence doesn’t seem to annoy him at all.

Yeah, he enjoys your presence more than anyone he knows.

and as he finishes the last of his ice cream he clutches his head, groaning as he hears you laugh.

“Brain freeze dumbass”

He starts to laugh too, and now the car is filled with your giggles and his breathy laughs.

Yeah…. You’re his little safe space and he’ll do anything to protect it.

Was literally supposed to post something for Valentine’s Day but I ended up getting the flu plus strep throat and an ear infection all at once so I couldn’t write it 😕.