#who don’t take care of their land at all

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part twenty —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn’t here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: I'm sorry lmaooo nine months... hopefully we can finish this thing!

You land hard, elbows hitting the ground with a jolt of pain, but it’s nothing compared to the realization that someone is screaming—Blue is screaming. The heat in your veins fizzles, your heart jolting. Ghost has already sped off toward camp, pulling a knife from his ankle, and you scramble to your feet to follow.

Your movements are clumsy, your mind replaying the last few seconds, searching for any signs of trouble you might have missed. The air is clear, the trees are quiet, the ground is still. Yet, as you weave through the tall grasses that swipe at your ankles, you finally hear it—muffled voices, unmistakably human. They grow sharper with each step you take. 

Ghost reaches camp first, stopping in a lethal stance. You roll in just behind him, eyes snapping to where Blue stands behind the fence, alive and aiming one of her dad’s rifles at four strangers. Still dressed in an oversized sleep shirt, she juts the rifle through a gap in the fortification. Two of the strangers are mounted on a brown horse, while the other two flank their sides, backs swollen with rucksacks and chests thick with gear. There is no doubt they have weapons.

"D-don't come any closer or I'll blow your heads off! I mean it!"

“We���re not here to hurt you,” one of them says calmly. A man.

“I don’t care why you’re here! You need to leave before my dad…” Her eyes flicker to you. “Dad!”

When their heads turn in your direction, you waste no time arching the knife over your head. You’re not much without your bow, but this is all you have.

In a split second, your eyes land on the burliest of the group, a man with a boonie hat and a dense, brown beard. He was the one speaking. The leader, maybe. You aim the knife for his head, but before you can throw it, Ghost grabs your wrist, wrenching you to his chest without warning, the knife falling to the ground.

"Wait," he says in your ear, his breath steady against your skin. There’s a detectable lilt of surprise in his voice. You try to squirm free, but he holds tight. "Stay here."

He lets go. Confusion reels through you. Everything in you screams to pick up the knife, but you hesitate as Ghost signals for Blue to lower the gun.

He calmly walks over to the intruders, heading to the man you were aiming for. The air feels thick as you watch with parted lips, stance still readied and breath racing. Ghost stops in front of him, and the two stare at each other strangely before the man smiles.

A strong hand reaches for Ghost’s shoulder.

“It’s good to see you, Simon.”

The clanking of metal against ceramic plates and the low murmurs of a fire fill the cabin.

Your spine presses into the wall.

There isn’t a free chair at the table, but you’re not sure you’d sit in one even if there was. Blue stands beside you, hands laced in front of her. She’s silent. You are, too. The cabin feels cramped with seven people in it. It makes your skin itch. 

You can inspect them more thoroughly now that you’re not thinking about who to kill first. 

There are two men—the older one you believe Ghost called Price, and a younger one you think he called Kyle. He’s fine-looking, you figure, underneath the overgrowth of facial hair and grime smudged on his dark skin. He had a tan cap on earlier but now a head of short, black hair is free for him to slick fingers through every now and then. Then there is a woman, some years older than you. She’s beautiful in a raw, Grecian sort of way, with long black hair and a violet undertone to her skin. Lastly, a boy, maybe twelve or thirteen. It doesn't take much to discern he is related to Kyle in some way.

They all look starving, though not as much as you once were. Nevertheless, Ghost is feeding them more than scraps. Canned beans, rice, and rabbit. They shovel it into their mouths. The men have muscles on them, so they can’t have been struggling much. Based on all the supplies they carry and the horse tied to a tree outside, you’ve figured they’ve been traveling for some time. A flurry of questions runs through your brain, but your lips remain in a tight line.

Ghost hasn’t said much yet. He hasn't even explained who they are. Your slitted eyes flicker to him. While the strangers fill up the table, he hovers beside it. His body speaks more than his expression. His shoulders are not tense and lethal as they'd been when you first sat at that table scarfing down food. But they're not relaxed, either; his arms crossed, still exposed from the black tee he'd put on for training, giving way to the slight flexes in his corded muscles that signal even he is thrown off by their presence. 

But he trusts them enough to let them in here. With the way they carry themselves, and the fact that Ghost hasn't killed them, they must've been in the military together. He doesn't seem like the type to have had normal friends. 

Kyle speaks first.

He thrums the pads of his fingertips against the wood and clears his throat, breaking your thoughts. "We were hoping you'd still be here, but it was a shot in the dark."

"I’ve never left," Ghost says, plainly.

Kyle sips from his mug and wipes his mouth, then his eyes shift toward you. You meet his gaze with a hardened look. 

"We're sorry for scaring you."

It takes a moment to realize his words aren't for you. Blue glances to her toes. "I wasn't scared." 

His lips lift. "Of course not. It's us who should've been scared of crossing paths with Simon Riley's kid. You did the right thing, you know. Protecting yourself."

"I didn't realize you knew my dad." She nibbles her lip and looks up. "My name is Blue, by the way. And this is..." Her eyes flick to you. "My friend, Twix."

Your tongue pokes your cheek as you look over the new faces. What are you supposed to say? 

"Hi," is all you settle on.

Ghost clears his throat. "Kid, why don't you clean some more water for them."

Blue nods dutifully, lingering only a second before pouring more river water into the pot over the fire.

"Thank you for your kindness. We haven't had a warm meal like this in days," the woman says kindly.

"It's a strong setup you've made for yourself," Price speaks, one hand stroking his beard while he pushes the cleared plate away with the other. He leans back, boonie hat still cradling his head and casting a shadow over his eyes, but you catch a glimpse of warm brown irises that might've comforted you in any other circumstance.

"It's lasted me this long." Ghost shifts his weight slightly. "Where are you coming from?"

"Near the base by the border, further north."

"Last I heard you were in Manchester."

"Once the radios went out, we picked up my wife," he touches the woman's shoulder, "Nereida, and Kyle's nephew here, Ari, from Newcastle. Made camp with a few others. Served us well for the past five years."

Ghost slowly nods and then drawls, "And Soap?”

Price leans his forearms on the table. "Not quite sure. The base was falling apart, but he stayed back, saying he'd meet up with us once he could. That was five years ago."

You're not sure who Soap is, someone else they worked with, maybe. There is a brief pause before Ghost asks, "Why did you leave?"

"More and more of 'em, Simon," Price replies with a slight shake of his head, emitting a low breath. "Made it difficult to even get food."

"Too many of them, not enough of us," Nereida murmurs distantly. Her hand slips under the table, out of view. You imagine it resting on Price's thigh as she leans into him with a weighted sigh. "They always seem to be moving. Not with a destination in mind, of course, but it was only a matter of time before they ruined our setup. We decided to leave before that could happen."

Kyles adds, "It wasn't an easy decision, but living in anticipation of the worst isn't really living at all."

Your brows lower. “Where exactly could you be headed that wouldn't mean living in anticipation of the worst?” you can't stop yourself from asking, the question burning in your mind. 

Price leans back, those warm brown eyes finding yours. A short heartbeat passes before he answers simply, "Switzerland."

The absurdity of that single word response forces a disbelieving, chuffed breath through your nose. Of all the things this stranger could have said, that would have to be the least expected. You anticipate an equally surprised reaction from Ghost, but he seems unnervingly unfazed. Blue, however, swivels her head from where she sits cross-legged in front of the fire.

"What the fuck is Switzerland?"

"It's another country," the boy—Ari—answers.

Blue glances between him and her dad. "Like... not in England?"

Ari snorts softly. "No, not in England. It's across the channel."

"The channel?" Blue frowns. "That's... far, isn't it?"

"Very far," Nereida confirms with a nod.

The subject is brusquely dropped when Ghost reaches for their cleared plates. "You must want to bathe while you're here. There's a river nearby."

Price clears his throat. "These two can go first." He gestures to the woman and child.

Soon enough, you become irritatingly aware of what's happening; you're being shooed away, along with the kids and Nereida, so the three of them can speak privately. There isn't much room to object as you shuffle out of the cabin, carrying a handful of rags for them to wash with along with the homemade soap that you once used to wash away the grime and earth that caked up from traveling. 

The sun beats hard, the river warmer now that spring has aged. Dried sweat clings to your spine from this morning, but bathing yourself is the last thing on your mind now, not when you're still reeling in the presence of people you don't know. You swing a glance at the cabin behind your shoulder, something in your gut twisting. Ghost doesn't want you there to hear whatever they're talking about. 

"This is a good spot," Blue says, stopping in front of a shallow part of the bank where the water is warmest. She hands Ari some soap and teeters on her toes. You realize why she keeps staring at him like that; he's probably the only other kid she's met in years. She is even more shy than when she first met you. "Twix and I will look away, don't worry."

You and Blue sit perched on a rock as they wash themselves. 

"This is weird," she admits quietly to you.

"Very," you mumble.

When they're done, you offer Nereida the only clean clothes you have at the moment: one of the oversized shirts Ghost gave you and some jeans. An annoyingly strange thought brandishes your brain... you don't like the way the black fabric sits on her bare chest, nipples poking through, and the hem hanging down to her knees as it does on you. You should've just given her the dirty blouse to wear.

She sits at the edge of the river, wringing her soaked hair with a rag. From the corner of your eye, you catch Blue helping Ari rinse his dirty clothes in the water. You want to keep an eye on him; your knife is still nestled around your ankle in case they try anything, though a woman and preteen don't heighten your paranoia as much. 

"How long have you two been together?"

Her soft voice makes you blink. "What?"

"You and Simon."

You're confused until you recall the revelation from earlier—the man you've known the past few months as Ghost, the one whose hard form laid beneath you just hours ago, is actually Simon. Simon Riley. You're tempted to say the name; try it out. But it is hard to reconcile with. It might taste strange on your tongue. The name fits a version of him that doesn't exist in this world now, you suppose. British. Simple. Like John or Kyle. The name of a lieutenant. The bits of his face you've witnessed crosses your mind; his nose, lips, and chin seem like Simon. The damn mask is Ghost, though.

"Jesus... I am not—" You shake your head, the sun even hotter on your neck. "I'm not with him like that. We're just allies." You glance back at the cabin in the distance and you fight a scowl. "If that."

She runs her fingers through ravenous tendrils. "Oh. I apologize for assuming."

You offer a small smile. "It's fine."

"How long have you been staying here then?"

"Um, a few months now. I used to stay with my sister and a friend, but they died."

Her eyes soften. "I'm sorry for your loss."

You shrug. "Everyone has lost important people."

"Doesn't make it easier," she says. "Ari's mom and younger sister used to be with us," she adds quietly with a solemn downward cast of her eyes, as if a memory has taken her for a moment. "They passed two years ago during a really rough winter along with this other couple we knew. Then it was just the four of us."

You inhale through your nose and release, frowning. "No child should have to experience that."

"No," she agrees, nodding. "They shouldn't. Which is why we're looking for a better life for him."

"And you think you'll find it in... Switzerland."

Nereida offers a half-smile, as if reading your thoughts. "We'd heard of a commune there, up in the mountains."

"A commune? Like what, a town?" 

"Sort of. Just... more people, living together. Protected. Greys make awful climbers, and the mountains there are much higher than anything in the UK."

This catches your attention, and the divot between your brows deepens. "How do you know it exists?"

"Well, we can't know for certain. John heard about it at the beginning of the spread, but it was too difficult to make arrangements at the time, especially when he had to help out at the medical site and then come find me. Things were a mess, I'm sure you remember."

"Yeah, I do." You reel in her words, thinking. "That was... years ago, though. Aren't you taking a huge risk going there now? What if nothing is there?"

"Staying in England would be a risk, too," she counters. "There is nothing here except death and hardship. You can't hide from it forever."

You look down at the water. Cicadas fill your ears, the buzzing drowning out your voice. "No, you can't."

You go on a hunt that afternoon, itching for some space to breathe. Deer tracks are harder to spot without the snow, but you find the unmistakeable marks of antlers against a tree and follow them. You glance around the forest. It feels endless and like a cage at the same time. Which way did they come from? If they made it to camp by morning, that means they spent the night here somewhere. You don't like the idea that others could be so close by, like that car.

The sun has turned orange by the time a healthy doe skirts in your peripherals. You stalk it behind an oak. An arrow flies from your bow, but you miss; the deer flees. You return in the dark empty-handed. No doubt, the visitors are fatigued, with Ghost already setting blankets across the cabin's floor for them to sleep on. You offer Ari the couch, figuring an exhausted kid needs it more than you do. He knocks out the moment he lays down.

"Here. For the night." Ghost offers you a heavy blanket and nods to the only bare spot of floor left after they've all settled down. 

You avoid his eyes and accept it. The moment he's disappeared to his room, you slip outside under the starlit night, finding the flattest patch of ground to lay the blanket down, which happens to be only a few paces away from a sleeping horse. It's not the couch, but it'll do for a night or two, and you refuse to sleep in the shed again. 

You're in the midst of standing back up after straightening out your makeshift bed when you bump into something solid. A hand grips your bicep and whirls you around, a pair of darkened eyes glowering down at you.

"What are you doing?" you breathe up at him. "I don't like when you grab me like that."

"What are you doing?" he retorts, voice low and hard.

"Trying to get some sleep."

"Out here?"

You look away and shimmy out of his hold. "Does it matter where I sleep?"

"It's not safe out here."

"You had no problem sending me out here before."

"You have since earned your keep," he mutters, as if annoyed you're even mentioning the past. 

"My spot is taken for the night by your lovely friends, so for however long you plan to let them stay, I will sleep out here."

"There is a spot on the floor for you inside."

"I'm not sleeping in there." With them. 

The whites of his eyes flash as he darts his gaze over your face. His tone softens perceptibly. A mere breath. "They won't hurt you, Twix."

You roll your eyes away from him. "I would just rather sleep out here by myself, okay? I prefer solitude at my most vulnerable. And it's not like my experiences with militant men have been pleasant so far." You keep your tone neutral, but a chill touches your spine at the memory.

Ghost emits a low huff. He suddenly rips the blanket from the ground and turns his back to you. "What are you doing?" you gape at him.

"You'll take my bed," he throws over his shoulder.

[warping-realities]

All For The Family - Part I

That was the only part of his job that Brian dislike, even though it was necessary. To justify what he had to do, he told himself those folks deserved it, that they should’ve been more careful with their own bills and the loans they took out, and paid their mortgage right. It wasn’t his fault. He was just there to deliver the truth they were probably expecting anyway. He tried to adopt a “don’t shoot the messenger” attitude while also showing he felt for their situation, even though he still had to do his job. That rarely worked in the two years he’d been doing that gig, and this time was no different. The blonde 24 years old man, rockin' a sharp suit that fit him like a glove on his skinny frame paired with his glasses, he was supposed to look classy and confident. Which clearly didn’t have the intended effect on the crowd he was facing. Standing in front of him with his arms crossed and a look on his face like he just sucked on a lemon was the biggest man Brian had ever seen in his life.

“You gotta understand, Mr. Abernathy, that the promissory note’s overdue again. If you don’t cough up the cash, the bank won’t have any choice but to foreclose and take your land to auction.”

“I get it, kid, but it seems like you’re the one refusing to understand. Tomorrow, I’m getting another hand to help with the harvest, and we’ll pay up all the back dues and even get ahead on a few!”

“Mr. Abernathy… Roy, can I call you Roy?” Brian asked with a smile he hoped was friendly and not showing the frustration he felt at that moment.

“My friends call me Roy, kid; you ain’t my friend.”

Brian let out a sigh at that response and decided to drop the pleasantries, taking a more hard-nosed approach.

“Well, Mr. Abernathy, I hate to break it to you, but if that promise of yours doesn’t pan out, I’m afraid that come the first of next month, you and your family are gonna have to vacate this property.”

“Save your worries for yourself, kid, while you hightail it off my land, ‘cause for now, I’m the one who decides who comes and goes around here.”

“If you weren’t planning on negotiating at all, why’d you make me drive all the way out here?”

“‘Cause there are some things that need to be said and done face-to-face, son.”

“Well, next time, just call me if you got something important to say!”

With a huff, Brian turned his back on the older, muscular man and headed toward the sports car parked behind the big barn that flanked the simple but well-kept farmhouse.

As he watched the kid walk away, unaware of the wave of golden sparks emanating from him, Roy murmured to himself, “Next time we talk, you’ll take whatever I say as important, boy!” He said, flashing a wide grin before turning to a figure that was approaching. “Is it done?” he asked, his smile widening at the answer.

That spat with the Abernathy family patriarch left Brian pissed off. Still, he couldn’t shake the thought that it might be through his work that those folks would lose everything. At the same time, he knew that if it were his older brother knocking on that door, dressed in his cop uniform, the treatment would’ve been a whole lot different. Of course, he could never pull off Lucas's job. Lost in those gloomy thoughts, he took a while to realize that the gas tank he filled up that very morning was nearly empty, and it was only when a beeping alert rang out that he noticed.

“Damn, how is this possible?” he exclaimed to the empty car as he pulled over to the side of the road and weighed his options. Looking at his cell, he found he was out of signal. The nearest town was miles away. The only option left...

“Damn!” he yelled again, getting out of the car and shrugging off his suit jacket, heading toward the Abernathy’s place, wondering what kind of reception he was gonna get. No matter how much empathy he might have started to feel for those folks, it surely wouldn’t be mutual. Halfway to the farm, the already bad situation took a turn for the worse when rain started pouring down, soaking Brian's expensive clothes.

For the first time in his life, he felt like he was being punished by some higher power for doing that job, and he was sure of it when he ran smack into the person he needed but didn’t want to see: Roy Abernathy in all his bulk! He was standing in front of an old Ford pickup, arms crossed again, but this time with a grin that Brian would’ve usually taken for some petty celebration, but at that moment it seemed to him to have more sincerity than he was used to seeing from “clients.” The man was with someone who could only be his son, given the huge resemblance between the two. Those behemoths made for a frightening sight for Brian, leaving him speechless. However, he didn’t even get a chance to speak, as Roy started the conversation for him.

“Looks like you need a little help, son. Where’s your fancy car?”

“I… the gas…”

“Oh, I get it; it’s real reckless to be out here with an empty tank.” The man said, still grinning, and Brian initially felt like he was just saying that to mess with him. But quickly, a small voice in the back of his mind disagreed; the Abernathys weren’t stingy like that. That new, dissenting voice made him hold his tongue and respond more calmly than expected.

“I don’t know what happened; I left town with a full tank. And… I… um… I’ll need some help, yeah.”

“Sorry, son, what was that?”

“I said I need help, if you could… please?!” He replied louder, though he was pretty sure the man heard him.

“Of course I can help, son. Out here, we all pitch in, no matter who you are.” Another jab, and once again something made Brian hold back; he deserved that treatment, the little voice said, and he would take it like a man, like the man he was. Roy smiled again, apparently noticing that the young man was holding back from snapping back.

“Thanks, sir. Now, if you could just follow me to the car and get me some gas…”

“No, son, you’re soaked through. Let RJ and me take care of that; you go to my house and talk to my wife; she’ll get you some dry clothes and a hot meal.”

“I’d rather go to my car…”

“No arguments, kid; do what I said!” Roy replied, his face turning serious.

“I… I… fine!” Brian said, biting back his anger and trudging down the road.

“That one’s a bit rough around the edges.” RJ commented to his dad as he watched Brian walk away.

“Oh, but he’s starting to behave, and there’s nothing wrong with him being a little rough, son, as long as he uses that attitude in the right way…”

“Dad, are you sure? This mumbo jumbo sounds crazy… and the risk we took, messing with that guy’s car. What if he noticed?”

“What are the odds a guy like that knows how to handle a car, Junior? At least for now.”

“Dad, what you’re talking about doing… it’s impossible…”

“Son, you’re gonna have to trust me on this; believe me, it’s already started. Tomorrow at this time, we’ll have the help we need and one heartless drone less in the world.”

“But how? How can you be sure? Have you done this before?” The young man asked.

“No, Junior, I haven’t.” Roy replied, looking quite uncomfortable and avoiding eye contact with his son. “But since you apparently doubt your old man’s word, maybe you should trust your own eyes; take a quick look now, and you’ll see something unique.”

“What the hell? What is that, Dad?” The boy asked, seeing the golden sparks surrounding the man who walked, seemingly unaware of anything strange.

“That, my boy, is the solution to our problems; now hurry up.”

As father and son climbed into the old pickup, an oblivious Brian, unaware of their plans for him, arrived at the farmhouse door. The moment he raised a hand to knock, the door swung open suddenly, and he found himself facing a beautiful woman with bronzed skin and black hair streaked with gray, whose age he couldn’t quite pin down, though he knew she was Abernathy’s wife. The woman looked at him with a warm face that, for some unknown reason, sent a shiver down his spine.

“Well, well, what do we have here? A lost kitten? How can I help you, sugar?”

“Um… I’m sorry, ma’am. I… Mr. Abernathy told me to come here and… hum… change clothes while he looks at my car.”

“You’re soaked, poor thing! Come on in, come on in. I’ll ask Debra to get you some of RJ’s clothes. Be a good boy and wait right here; I don’t want my carpet all wet!” The woman said in a whirlwind, pulling him inside the house and leaving him standing at the threshold. Brian, for his part, had to control himself not to run back out into the rain, as something urged him to get out of that place as fast as possible. Holding himself back, he waited until the woman returned with a young girl about his age, just as pretty as the mother, in a floral dress.

“Debra will take you to RJ’s room; you can dry off and wear some of his clothes until the boys bring your car back. Meanwhile, I’ll whip up some dinner; a big boy like you must eat as much as my husband and son!”

“I… actually…” Brian started, but he gave up announcing his intention to leave as fast as possible upon receiving a look from Mrs. Abernathy that simultaneously showed expectation and reprimand. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Great, now let’s go, let’s go! You’re soaking my carpet!”

Brian followed Debra up to one of the rooms on the second floor of the house. Upon entering, he was surprised to find it was a double room. Did the Abernathy kids, brother and sister, share the same room?

“I’ve set aside some of RJ’s clothes for you; they might be a bit big, but at least they’re dry.” The girl said, smiling between the two beds in the room. Brian couldn’t help but ask.

“You sleep here with your brother?”

“God, no, eww! That bed’s for my other brother!”

“I didn’t know that… wait… there’s no record of the Abernathys having another kid in the paperwork given to the bank!”

“Shhh… relax; there’s no need to stress about that, it’s not important. You city folks with your data, your records, your… contracts. Life is so much more than that, you know? So why don’t you chill for a bit, dry off, and head down? Dad’s gonna want to talk to you.” The girl replied and left the room, leaving a very confused Brian behind. He was still pondering the family’s strange behavior as he undressed and wondered what the hell Roy Abernathy would want to talk to him about. He wasn’t fooling himself thinking it could be something good for his job, not after the confrontation they had just had.

After drying off and getting ready to put on RJ's much larger clothes, the little intrusive voice invaded his mind again. Whatever Roy had to say was important, and he should listen and obey, just like he always had. Before his mind could fight back against that, a beam of golden sparks emanated from his body, and both the intrusive voice and the need to resist it vanished from Brian's mind. In fact, all thoughts disappeared. He couldn't tell how long he stood there, just breathing, with his mind blank of thoughts or worries.

He only returned to reality when someone caught his attention.

“What are you doing just standing there, brother?” A deep voice asked, startling him awake. Turning quickly, Brian found himself face to face with Abernathy’s son, RJ. He’d only seen him briefly on the road, but now he was just a few inches away. RJ lacked the bulk of his father, but that didn’t mean he was small. On the contrary, he was a strong guy, a year or two older than Brian, with a muscular, hairy chest on display. Looking at that figure, Brian felt a strange sensation wash over him, a kind of bond between him and this stranger; it wasn’t sexual, it was something… brotherly, maybe? He knew he’d felt that before, but couldn’t remember when or with whom. As absurd as it was, it was like this guy in front of him was someone very important.

“Earth to you, bro! Get some clothes on and let’s eat; Dad’s waiting.”

“I… uh… yeah.” Brian replied, hurrying to put on the clothes that were lying next to him.

“You coming?” He asked, wanting to stretch the time spent with the other man, even though he didn’t know why.

“Nah, I already ate; I’m gonna crash here. We’ll talk later and figure out how to fix your car!”

“Car?”

“Dude, you really are in another dimension, eat your food, talk to dad, I’ll be waiting!”

Brian headed downstairs and made his way to the kitchen, not even questioning how he knew which way to go, while trying to pin down that feeling of connection to someone he’d just met. As he reached the kitchen door, he found Roy Abernathy sitting alone at a large dining table piled high with food, looking serious and pensive. Brian instinctively stopped at the door, watching the older man. Strangely, all the animosity he’d felt toward the man had vanished, and revisiting his feelings, even the fear he refused to admit existed was different now; it wasn’t fear of violence, but a hefty dose of respect, with a healthy hint of dread. He didn’t even have time to try to figure out what had changed, as Abernathy spotted him and broke into a smile.

“Come on in and grab a bite, son, don’t just stand there like a deer in headlights!” The man said, and while part of Brian’s mind told him he should be anger by that comment, a now dominant part made him smile shyly and head over to the table.

“Excuse me, sir!” He said politely and respectfully.

“Sure thing, son, make yourself at home; things here are simple but done right.”

“Thanks, sir.” Brian replied, serving himself a bit of everything on the table, ending up with a plate piled high, which seemed to please his host.

“That’s a plate fit for a real man!”

“Sorry, Mr. Abernathy; it all looks so good and…”

“No need to apologize, son; that’s a compliment you’re giving my wife’s cooking. And you can call me Roy. That’s what my friends call me.”

Hearing that sparked something in Brian’s mind, some kind of half-forgotten memory, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t recall it… if he can’t remember it must not be important, right? So, he opted to eat all that delicious food, smiling, again oblivious to the shower of golden sparks surrounding him. But Roy Abernathy couldn’t help but notice, making his smile grow even wider.

Brian devoured the food like he hadn’t eaten in days, time slipping by without him realizing it. He only stopped eating when his belly stretched the elastic of RJ’s shorts, which was no small feat since the man was much stronger than him. Satisfied, he let out a loud burp.

“Burrrpp… sorry, Mr. Abernathy.”

“Once again, that’s a compliment to my wife’s fine cooking, kid; and I already told you, my friends call me Roy.”

“Thanks, Roy… you… you all didn’t have to do this for me, not after… after…”

“After what, son?” Roy asked, with an apparently innocent look.

“After… after…” after what? What did I do to Abernathy? I can’t remember… something about work… my job. “… my job.” Brian mumbled.

“Kid, just ‘cause you’re gonna work for me doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop treating you like a guest.” Roy replied with a smile, sending a shock through Brian’s mind. That information couldn’t be true… or could it? He tried to remember his job, but nothing came to mind; he had gone to college and studied… what? He couldn’t recall. But he knew his job had given him the means to buy the clothes he liked and the car… yeah, his car! There was something about his car.

“And my car…?”

“Oh, right, tomorrow you and RJ can figure out how to fix it. But I gotta tell you, son, there’s only so much an old car can take!”

“Old…? no, no!”

“Oh, I know young folks prefer the term classic, but still… anyway… if I were you, I’d save up for a good reliable pickup, kid! Now head on up; I’m sure you and RJ will want to talk before bed, but tomorrow the day starts bright and early around here.”

“I… I… Roy… there’s something… something…” Brian started as he stood up and headed for the door, unable to finish. He wanted to say there was something weird, something wrong, but he couldn’t.

“Something you wanna tell me, son?”

“Yeah… Mr. Abernathy… Roy…” He struggled to find the right words to express how he felt. “… thanks again!” That was what he finally said, with a fresh wave of golden sparks surrounding him, and any doubt about what he was doing there vanished.

“Thank me with hard work, son; now go to your room.”

Feeling a bit dazed, Brian climbed the stairs and reached the room he shared with RJ. The other man was lying down, apparently asleep, which left Brian feeling a bit down.

He couldn't say why, but he felt the urge to talk to RJ; somehow, he felt like the other man was a special friend he hadn't spoken to in a long time, though that didn't make any sense. He hardly knew the guy; they had barely exchanged words since they met that day... or was it the day his father hired Brian? And when was that? Brian sat on the bed, trying to sort out his thoughts and calm the strange feeling that had taken over him since his car broke down on the road. And why was he on the road if he had gone to the Abernathys to work? He couldn't get very far with those thoughts, as apparently, his movements had woken RJ, who quickly sat up in bed.

“Hey, brother, why didn’t you let me know you were in the room?”

“I didn’t want to wake you; didn’t wanna bother you…”

“Man, it ain’t no bother! We gotta talk about your car, figure out what we’re gonna do!”

“Your dad thinks I should sell it and save up for a pickup!”

“Bro, no way! Dad’s a great guy, but for him, if something ain’t useful for work, it ain’t worth a damn. He’s forgotten what it’s like being a guy our age. And selling a 1969 Ford Mustang? The king of American muscle cars? Only if you’re crazy! I figured with a car like that, you’d know how to appreciate a classic!”

“I… uh… I just didn’t wanna offend your dad, with him being my boss and all…”

“Dude, just be straight with him, and he’ll get it… and forget about the boss stuff… you’re sleeping in his son’s room; you can bet he sees you as more than just an employee.”

“Thanks…” Brian replied awkwardly.

“Come on, enough of that; you’re gonna work with me, hell, you’re sharing a room with me, brother! No need for all that formal junk.” RJ said, grinning before giving Brian a scrutinizing look and asking, “Bro, do you lift?”

“Uh, no… I’ve never been much for working out…”

“So how you ended up working on a farm??”

“Uh… I… went to college… I think, and… I don’t remember…”

“Chill out, brother, I’m just teasing you!But seriously, if you wanna work around here, you gotta pack on some serious muscle.” RJ said, casually scratching his powerful pecs and biceps, making Brian, who had never cared about that kind of thing, feel mesmerized.

“You think… you think I can get as big as you or your dad?” Why was he asking that???

“Ha, dude, nobody’s as big as my dad, and getting to my size is a good journey, but the beauty of the thing is just that, brother; you never settle for the size you are, and I bet with the right training and all the farm work, soon you won’t even recognize yourself.” Hearing that reply filled Brian with a level of contentment he never thought possible.

But before he could try to understand why, RJ went back to talking about cars, and soon the two were discussing their favorite classic models and what they’d do with Brian’s old Mustang. Their conversation flowed like they’d known each other for years and was only interrupted when a very serious Roy Abernathy opened the bedroom door and told the two to hit the hay already, like a couple of mischievous kids being schooled by their dad. Somehow, that thought was comforting to Brian, who quickly fell asleep after Roy turned off the lights and left the room.

He was in a strange place; it looked like a gym. There was a young, skinny but strong guy, as blonde as he was, staring at him. After a few seconds, he realized he was standing in front of a mirror and smiled.

As he dreamed of that, Brian smiled in his sleep on the bed in Roy Junior’s room, his shirt pulled off during the night without him realizing, and golden sparks surrounding him as he moved around happily, unaware that someone was watching him.

“Sleep tight, little brother, ‘cause tomorrow’s when things are really gonna get interesting!”

[reaper2187]

Caitlyn kiramman x female reader

The Shadows We Share

The damp, cold air of Stillwater Prison clung to every stone, the metallic tang of despair thick in the narrow corridors. Caitlyn adjusted her rifle strap as she followed the warden, her sharp eyes scanning for any sudden movement. She wasn’t here to gawk; she was here to get answers.

Vi, walking ahead of her in tense silence, had been more than reluctant to return. Stillwater was a scar, a place where guilt and anger intersected with memories she couldn’t fully ignore. She had grudgingly agreed to let Caitlyn help her—after all, Caitlyn wasn’t one to give up once her mind was set. And Vi? She couldn’t shake the feeling she’d left something behind here. Or someone.

As they reached the farthest block of cells, the warden slowed. “You sure this is the one you’re looking for?” he grunted, gesturing to a cell shrouded in shadows.

“I’ll know it when I see it,” Vi shot back, her voice sharp. Caitlyn glanced at her, sensing the tension beneath her bravado.

The cell in question wasn’t like the others. Its occupant didn’t bother pacing or glaring through the bars. Instead, they sat on a cot at the far end, back straight, head tilted slightly as if aware of their observers before they even approached.

When the figure turned, Caitlyn couldn’t help but notice how striking they were. The sharp planes of their face, the unmistakable strength in their posture, and yet, there was something else—a cold, calculating air that seemed almost suffocating.

Vi’s breath hitched. “Y/N?”

The woman blinked, recognition flickering across her stoic features. “Vi.” Her voice was low, even, as if the years hadn’t passed. “Took you long enough.”

Caitlyn watched the exchange curiously, her rifle steady in her grip. Y/N—Vi had called her that—wasn't just another inmate. There was a history here. She could see it in the subtle shift in Vi’s demeanor, the way her usual cockiness dimmed into something more subdued.

“Who’s this?” Y/N asked, her tone neutral but her gaze landing on Caitlyn with an almost clinical assessment.

“Caitlyn,” Vi muttered, waving a dismissive hand. “She’s with me.”

The corner of Y/N’s mouth quirked into what might’ve been a smirk. “With you? Didn’t think you’d take to making friends with enforcers.”

“I didn’t exactly have a choice,” Vi shot back, her fists clenching. “But you—you’re alive. How the hell are you here?”

Y/N leaned back slightly, the chains on her wrists clinking faintly. “Where else would I be? People like me don’t get to walk free, Vi. You know that.”

Caitlyn stepped forward. “And who are you, exactly?”

Y/N’s gaze snapped to her, sharp and unyielding. “Someone who doesn’t need to answer your questions.” Her eyes flicked back to Vi. “But maybe you should answer mine. What are you doing here?”

Vi exhaled slowly, her shoulders relaxing a fraction. “We’re here for something else. Didn’t expect to see you here, though.”

“You didn’t expect to see me because you forgot me,” Y/N replied flatly, her tone cutting but not bitter. “Not that I blame you. You had other priorities.”

“I didn’t forget,” Vi said, her voice low, almost pleading. “I thought you were—”

“Dead?” Y/N offered, tilting her head slightly. “Close enough.”

Caitlyn, feeling the tension growing, intervened. “You’re from Zaun?”

Y/N raised a brow. “A long time ago.”

“She’s more than that,” Vi interjected, her voice laced with guilt. “She’s—she was like a sister to me. She taught me how to fight, how to survive. Vander trusted her with everything.”

Caitlyn frowned, the pieces starting to fit together. Y/N wasn’t just another criminal. She was someone Vi had cared about deeply, someone who had been part of her past long before Stillwater.

The conversation shifted as Caitlyn pressed further. “If you were that close to Vander and the others, why are you here? What happened?”

Y/N’s eyes darkened, her expression unreadable. “Zaun has no shortage of people who want you dead. I made a living off that fact.” She paused, her lips curling into a faint smile. “Apparently, the Piltover authorities don’t appreciate hitmen in their streets.”

“You were arrested for assassination?” Caitlyn asked, her voice sharp.

“Among other things,” Y/N replied nonchalantly. “Stillwater’s my penance.”

Vi shook her head, a mixture of disbelief and frustration flashing across her face. “You could’ve gotten out. You’re too smart for this.”

“Getting out isn’t the problem,” Y/N said quietly. “Staying out is.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Caitlyn glanced between them, sensing that there was far more to this story than either of them was letting on.

Before the conversation could continue, the warden returned. “If you’re done reminiscing, we’ve got schedules to keep.”

Caitlyn nodded, but Vi hesitated, her gaze lingering on Y/N. “We’re getting out of here,” she said firmly. “All of us.”

Y/N raised a brow, her expression skeptical. “You really think it’s that simple?”

Caitlyn stepped forward. “It’s not simple, but it’s possible. If you’re willing to work with us.”

Y/N studied her for a long moment, her piercing gaze seeming to dissect Caitlyn’s every word. Finally, she nodded. “Fine. But don’t expect me to play nice.”

Vi smirked, the tension easing slightly. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

As they turned to leave, Y/N’s voice stopped them. “Vi.”

She looked back, her expression softening slightly. “Yeah?”

“Don’t make me regret this.”

The Escape Plan

Henlo, I do have a second part of this if you all want it. So if you do comment and like. If anyone of y'all have any requests then you can also leave those in the comments or in the submission box thingy

Okiee byeeee

[dreamscapeee222]

Could you maybe do a reversal or Arevik's request? As someone who struggles with their body image the other way around.

A/n: I was actually planning on this. Now I write this for you :) I hope you like it!

You struggle with your body image

Vi, Jinx, Caitlyn, Ekko, Jayce, Viktor, Mel

Masterlist

Vi

Vi notices your discomfort with your reflection long before you voice it. She’s observant, her sharp eyes catching how you pull at your clothes or avoid mirrors.

"Hey, you don’t have to look like anyone else to kick butt, alright? Trust me—I’ve seen you in action." She’ll say it with conviction, her tone brooking no argument.

When she realizes how deep your struggles run, she doesn’t push, but she’s always there. She’ll drag you to a boxing gym one day, not to force you to fight but to show you how strong you are.

"You’ve got nothing to prove to anyone," she tells you after watching you land a perfect punch.

Jinx

Jinx is chaotic but fiercely protective. She notices your hesitation to eat or how you tug at your sleeves and immediately declares, "Whoever made you feel like this? I’m blowing ‘em up."

She tries to cheer you up in her own unpredictable ways—drawing exaggerated portraits of you that make you laugh and reminding you she doesn’t care about appearances.

"You’re my favorite person, you know that? And I’m the smartest person in Zaun, so... my opinion’s the only one that matters."

On bad days, she’ll cuddle up next to you, her arms tight around your waist, mumbling, "I’ve got you. You don’t need to change a thing."

Caitlyn

Caitlyn notices the subtle changes in your mood when the topic of appearances comes up. She approaches it delicately, waiting for you to feel safe enough to open up.

When you finally do, she listens carefully, her eyes soft with understanding. "You’re beautiful as you are, but I understand how hard it is to feel that way sometimes."

She makes small changes to help you feel more comfortable—like buying clothes in cuts and fabrics you’d like or planning outings to places where you won’t feel judged.

Caitlyn constantly reinforces how much she values you, not just with words but through her actions. "It’s okay to struggle. Just don’t forget that you’re never alone in this."

Ekko

Ekko’s no stranger to insecurity, so he picks up on your struggle almost immediately. He doesn’t push you to talk about it but offers little reassurances whenever he can.

"You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. And no one else gets to define what’s worth loving about you. That’s all you, alright?"

On hard days, he’ll distract you with his projects or take you for a ride through the Lanes, showing you the world through his eyes. "This city doesn’t define us—neither do the things we don’t like about ourselves."

He’s endlessly patient, always reminding you of your worth without overwhelming you.

Jayce

Jayce struggles to grasp the depth of your feelings at first. He’s used to being confident and assumes a pep talk will fix it. "You’re amazing, okay? Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise."

When he realizes it’s more complicated than that, he shifts his approach, becoming more attentive. He starts noticing when you’re withdrawn and subtly adjusts his behavior to meet you where you’re at.

He’ll pull you into a tight hug, his voice warm as he says, "Whatever you see when you look in the mirror... I wish you could see what I see."

Jayce is big on small gestures, like leaving notes or little gifts to remind you of how much he cares.

Viktor

Viktor is deeply empathetic and picks up on your struggles quickly, though he doesn’t address it outright at first. Instead, he starts spending more time with you, letting his quiet presence offer comfort.

One day, as you stare at yourself in the mirror with a defeated look, he speaks softly but firmly. "I’ve spent my life defying limitations—don’t let your mind be one of them."

Viktor gently encourages you to focus on what your body allows you to do rather than how it looks. He’ll share stories of his own insecurities, hoping it helps you feel less alone.

On particularly bad days, he simply takes your hand and reminds you, "You are enough. You always have been."

Mel

Mel’s approach is thoughtful and calculated, but her warmth shines through in every interaction. She notices your discomfort almost immediately but gives you the space to come to her.

When you do, she listens without judgment, her hand resting gently on yours. "There’s nothing wrong with you," she says, her tone firm yet kind. "But I’ll help you see that when you’re ready."

She introduces you to self-care routines that help her feel confident, but she’s careful never to make you feel pressured. "You don’t have to change a thing to deserve love—not from me, not from anyone."

Mel is fiercely protective, shutting down anyone who dares make you feel lesser. Her love is constant, unwavering, and she ensures you feel it in every word and touch.

Requests may be sent through the ask box. Only SFW.

[ganggangscenarios]

No Such Thing | Ch 10

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Summary: After a messy breakup and an even messier night out , you find an unlikely friend in your coworker’s ex boyfriend. A messy beginning and an even messier middle, who knows about the end.

Genre: Romance, comedy, smut (later chapters)

Warning: This chapter contains intense scenes of violence, injury, and emotional distress. Reader discretion is advised.

01 | 02| 03| 04| 05| 06 |07| 08 | 09| 10

Drabbles:

I can & I will

Disconnect

The silence in the room thickens as Jungkook locks eyes with Mark. The knife gleams in Mark's hand, the light reflecting off the blade like a cruel reminder of how far this situation has escalated. Jungkook’s heart pounds in his chest, his every muscle coiled, ready for whatever Mark is about to do.

“Mark,” Jungkook says, his voice low and steady, despite the adrenaline rushing through him. “This isn’t you. Let her go.”

Mark's lips curl into a mocking smile, the knife still gripped tightly. “You think I’m doing this for me? I’m doing this for us.” He gestures between the two of them, eyes flicking to you, then back to Jungkook. “She’s carrying my child, Jungkook. You think you can just walk in here and take her away like it’s nothing? You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”

Jungkook's hands tighten into fists at his sides. He’s seen Mark angry before, but this is different—this isn’t just anger. There’s something deeper, something desperate, and that scares him more than the knife. Mark’s grief, his obsession—it’s consuming him.

“I don’t care what you think you’re doing,” Jungkook growls, his eyes never leaving Mark’s. “You’ve already crossed the line. Let her go, or I’ll make you.”

Mark’s expression falters for a split second, a flicker of doubt crossing his face, but it’s quickly replaced by a cold, calculated resolve. He steps forward, closing the distance, the knife now aimed toward Jungkook, the tip dangerously close to his chest. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. Not anymore.”

The air between them crackles with tension. Jungkook doesn’t flinch. His body is still, but his mind is racing, calculating the distance, the speed, the moves he needs to make to protect you.

“Mark, listen to me.” Jungkook takes a slow step forward, his voice soft but firm, trying to reach whatever sanity is left in him. “This isn’t the way. I’m not here to fight you. But if you keep pushing, if you keep doing this… I’ll have no choice but to make you.”

Mark’s eyes flicker—there’s hesitation, just a second of it. His grip on the knife falters. It’s enough.

In that split second, Jungkook moves.

He grabs Mark’s wrist with a force he didn’t know he had, twisting it just enough to make the knife drop to the floor with a clatter. Before Mark can react, Jungkook pushes him back, his body slamming into the wall with a thud. The shock in Mark’s eyes is almost too much to bear, but Jungkook doesn’t stop.

“Stay the hell away from her,” he spits, his voice a growl, his chest heaving with rage. He takes a step back, ensuring Mark is down for the moment, his hand still gripping the front of his shirt.

You watch, breath caught in your throat, heart racing. Mark, who was once so close to you, so familiar, now seems like a stranger—a broken man, consumed by something darker than you could’ve ever imagined.

Jungkook turns to you, his face softening as his gaze lands on you. “Are you okay?” His voice is gentler now, but the raw intensity of his presence doesn’t waver.

You nod, your eyes filling with tears. “I’m fine now. You came for me… you actually came.”

Jungkook reaches for you, his hands trembling as he pulls you into his arms, his warmth surrounding you like a shield. You cling to him, feeling safe for the first time in what feels like forever.

Mark is still on the floor, dazed, but his presence is no longer a threat. For now, the fight is over. The tension has broken, but the weight of what’s just happened presses down on all of you.

“I’m taking you home,” Jungkook murmurs against your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re not going anywhere with him, ever again.”

You nod against his chest, relief flooding through you, but the fear doesn’t quite leave. Not yet. You glance back at Mark, who is still on the floor, rage and confusion swirling in his eyes. But for now, all that matters is that you’re safe. You’re free.

As Jungkook leads you toward the door, Mark’s voice rasps behind you, a broken whisper. “You think you’ve won? You think I’ll just let her go?”

Jungkook doesn’t turn back. He pulls you out of the apartment, the door slamming shut behind you. You’re not looking back anymore. You don’t need to.

Mark’s eyes gleam with madness, his hand gripping the knife as he lunges forward, rage propelling him. Before you can even react, Jungkook steps into the line of fire, placing himself between you and the blade.

“No!” you scream, but the words feel hollow in the air.

Jungkook’s body slams into Mark’s with a force that sends them both stumbling. The knife swings dangerously close to Jungkook’s side as he twists, trying to wrestle it away. He barely avoids the blade, but Mark’s erratic movements push him backward. In a desperate bid for control, Mark drives the knife toward Jungkook’s stomach.

The flash of steel cuts through the space between them, and with a sickening gasp, Jungkook’s face contorts in pain. His body stiffens as the blade makes contact, slicing through his side. Blood stains his shirt, and for a second, everything goes silent.

“Jungkook!” you cry out, your heart stopping as you watch him stagger, his hand clutching his side, the pain etched into his features.

He stumbles back, his knees buckling, but he keeps himself upright. His eyes lock on you, a faint smile fighting its way through the pain.

“I’m... fine,” Jungkook grits out, but the blood seeping through his fingers betrays his words. He doesn’t have the strength to hide it.

Mark watches the scene unfold, his face twisting into something darker—more triumphant. He steps toward Jungkook, the knife still in his hand, his breathing shallow but filled with satisfaction.

“You’re not leaving with her,” Mark spits, his voice venomous. He takes a step closer to Jungkook, but this time, Jungkook doesn’t back down.

The room spins for you as you watch Jungkook’s blood stain the floor beneath him. A wave of panic rises in your chest, but you know you have to act. Your body moves before your mind can catch up, running toward Mark, ready to do whatever it takes to stop him from harming Jungkook further.

But before you can reach him, Mark raises the knife again, his eyes fixed on Jungkook. In that instant, everything seems to slow down.

Jungkook’s breath hitches, his eyes wide with the realization that Mark is coming in for another strike. His body is shaking, not just from the pain but from the sheer force of his struggle to stay standing.

“Get away from him!” you scream, launching yourself toward Mark, hands reaching for anything you can use to protect him.

The sharp sound of the blade slicing through the air fills the room just as your fingers graze the handle of a chair nearby. You grab it with everything you have and swing it in Mark’s direction. The impact is enough to knock him off balance, but it’s only a momentary distraction.

Jungkook gasps, his body sinking to the floor as he tries to steady himself. His hand presses harder against the wound, but it’s clear he’s losing the battle. Blood pours from the cut, staining the carpet, and his vision starts to blur.

“No, no, no...” you whisper, tears welling up in your eyes as you kneel beside him. You try to keep him upright, but the weight of his injury is too much.

Mark regains his footing, a wicked smile curling on his lips as he watches the scene unfold. He raises the knife one more time.

“I’m not done yet,” he growls, advancing on you both.

You can barely breathe as you try to think of something—anything—to stop him. The air is thick with fear, the tension suffocating.

Jungkook’s breath comes in short, painful gasps, his hand still clutching his side. “Run,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “Please... run.”

Before you can react, Mark lunges forward, the knife poised to strike.

Then, in a blur, the door to the apartment slams open with a deafening crash.

Someone’s footsteps echo in the hallway.

Everything comes to a halt.

Mark freezes.

You turn, heart hammering in your chest, desperate for help—but who could it be? Who’s coming to save you now?

Jungkook’s hand slips from his wound, his vision fading as he struggles to stay conscious. He collapses into your arms, his body heavy against you.

You don’t know who’s at the door—but you don’t care. You know the moment you hear those footsteps, the story is far from over.

———

Jungkook’s head lulls against your chest as you hold him, his breathing shallow, uneven. Your heart races with a panic you can't seem to shake. Blood stains your hands, your arms, and you're terrified it might be too late. The weight of his limp body is unbearable, and all you can do is hold on, pray that he can hang on too.

You look up at Mark, who’s still reeling from the confrontation, his chest rising and falling in heavy breaths. He’s on the floor now, but there’s no hint of surrender in his eyes. He’s seething, clawing his way up, but this time, he doesn’t reach for the knife. Instead, he just glares, still bent on whatever twisted delusion he’s clinging to.

“You think this is over?” Mark sneers, his eyes darting between you and Jungkook. “She’ll always be mine. You can’t have her.”

You don’t even have the energy to respond, your attention solely on the man in your arms. Your fingers tremble as you try to steady his breathing. “Jungkook, please, stay with me... I need you. Please, don’t leave me now.”

Suddenly, the sound of rapid footsteps echoes through the hallway, followed by a sharp knock on the door. Mark’s head snaps toward it, his expression shifting from anger to something darker. He doesn't make a move to stop whoever’s coming, but you can feel the tension building.

The door slams open, and in steps Hyejin.

For a moment, everything stands still. Her eyes lock onto you, then to Jungkook, her gaze darting between the two of you as if trying to understand what’s happening. She’s breathless, her face flushed from running, but there’s no fear in her eyes, only a cold, calculating determination.

“What the hell happened?” Hyejin’s voice is sharp, demanding, but it’s laced with genuine concern as she steps further into the apartment.

Mark’s face twists with frustration and disbelief. “Hyejin, stay out of this.”

But Hyejin doesn’t flinch. She steps past him without a second glance, crouching down beside you and Jungkook, her eyes scanning his injury with trained precision. “What happened? He’s bleeding out. We need to get him help now.”

Your heart lurches in your chest. “I—he’s been stabbed. I don’t know what to do—he’s losing so much blood.”

Hyejin doesn’t waste a second. She quickly presses her hand against the wound, applying pressure to stem the bleeding. Her touch is firm but quick, and you can feel her steadying influence wash over you as she works with practiced hands. But her eyes never leave Jungkook’s face.

“Stay with me, Jungkook. You’re okay, we’re getting you out of here.” Her voice is calm, controlled, but there’s an edge to it—something raw that snaps at you.

Your breath catches in your throat as you watch Jungkook’s pale face, his eyes fluttering. He’s barely holding on, and you feel a wave of helplessness crash over you. “Please, please, don’t leave me... not like this.” You whisper, your voice breaking.

Mark sneers from the side, his lips curling in anger. “You think you can fix him? He’s already dead. You won’t save him.”

Hyejin doesn’t even look at him. “Shut up, Mark.” Her voice is cold, unflinching. She continues to apply pressure to the wound, her eyes flicking between you and Jungkook. “We’re getting him out of here. The cops and help are on the way.”

Mark moves, his hands balling into fists, and for a moment, you think he might try something, but Hyejin stands up quickly, blocking him with her body, her posture rigid with authority. “Don’t. If you want to leave here alive, you’ll stay out of it.”

The door is open, and you hear the distant sound of sirens, the faint promise of rescue. But it's still too far away.

“Stay with me, Jungkook,” you whisper again, your hand clutching his weakly in yours. His pulse is slow, irregular, and every second feels like it’s slipping away. You glance at Hyejin desperately. “Please... Please save him.”

Hyejin nods, her expression hardening with determination. “I’m not letting him die. Help is on the way.” She looks over her shoulder, her gaze flicking toward Mark one last time. “You’re done here. Go. Leave before I make you.”

Mark hesitates for a moment, glaring at her, then at you, before finally sneering in disgust. “This isn’t over. You can’t keep her.” His voice drips with venom, but he knows he’s beaten for now.

Without another word, Mark turns and storms out, the door slamming shut behind him.

As the silence settles in, you breathe in deeply, allowing the air to fill your lungs. But the reality of the situation weighs heavy, and you know that this battle isn’t over. Not by a long shot. Jungkook’s life hangs in the balance, and you’re not sure you can handle losing him again.

But as Hyejin presses on the wound, and the distant sirens grow louder, you hold on to one fragile hope.

_____________

I apologise for the delay and the shortness of this chapter :(

[writingblogsandothers]

The Chosen One

Part 6

Writer's Note: A bit shorter, this one! Sending all the love, as per X

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Mild Taunting/Teasing // Mild Fear // Mild kissing // Mild indications of sleeping together (nothing overly descriptive)

Use of She/Her/Lady - Female Pronouns

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5

Aurelia woke from her sound slumber with a glimmer of light beaming through the heavy curtains that adorned her windows. She could hear a gentle snore, and when she looked over to her left, she saw a shirtless Geta lying next to her. She studied him carefully. His eyelashes lay curled against his soft cheeks. His nose, perfectly curved. Lips, plump and kissable as she only realised too quickly last evening. He was like a drug, the finest opium of the land wouldn’t be as addictive as he was.

The prior evening was everything she could have dreamt of and more. Geta was no longer so tyrannical, but loving and caring. He took his time with her, ensuring she benefitted from all actions and caressed her gently. She hoped this Geta was here to stay.

Geta stirred from his sleep, opening one eye to see Aurelia staring at him with intent. He smirked at her, “Good morning Wife, I trust you slept well?” Aurelia nodded, smiling, “Yes Husband, the best sleep in years.” Geta scoffed in response, getting up from her bed and walking toward her chair where his robe lay. Aurelia didn’t like to admit, but she did sneak a look at his great stature as he strutted over to the chair.

“I have to leave to attend to brother’s meeting. It’s to do with our games.” He strutted over to her bedside, crouching down to meet her face, taking it in his hands, whispering “Keep the bed warm for me…” he kisses her gently to which she blushes in response. Geta storms out with authority, while Aurelia forces herself to get up and prepare for her day.

***

The day was uneventful, and Aurelia made her way to the dining hall where she was met with Geta and Caracalla, as well as some of his cronies. She sat beside Geta who looked to her and held out his hand to take hers in his.

“Brother, don’t let it go to your head… seeing you so weak, holding hands, looking like a love-sick lion cub, it’s not a good look for an emperor.” Caracalla seethed.

Geta looked back to his brother, “Caracalla, maybe you should find yourself a wife. It may help you to think clearer…”

Caracalla laughed, “Ha, ha. Brother, how you amuse me with your fickle thoughts.”

The two engaged in an icy stare for some time before Caracalla began again, “Aurelia, I was just telling your betrothed of my plans for your games to celebrate your union.”

In a bid to try and win Caracalla over, Aurelia entertained him. “Oh Emperor, please do enlighten me – what excitement can we expect?”

“I have planned many festivities, naval battles, chariot racing, the lot. But I was just telling Geta – we want new blood. I have our troops out now gathering new men to fight. Oh it shall be wonderful, aren’t I great at crafting gifts for others?!”

Aurelia smiled back, fearful of the sick mind of her brother-in-law. She was far from naïve; she knew what this meant. Games meant death. Games meant bloodshed. Games meant innocent animals being slaughtered, maimed and injured all for the enjoyment of the crowds, and more so to fulfil some sick desire within Caracalla, and dare she even think, Geta.

She replied, “Yes Emperor, you are most kind.” Geta squeezed her hand in response to acknowledge her appreciation for his brother.

“I proposed the games begin tomorrow, the sooner the better. I shall meet you both on the royal balcony at midday. General Acacius and Lucilla will be in attendance, as well as a new friend of mine. I think you will both love him. Until then, I bid thee a good evening.” Caracalla rose from his seat, whistling at the two males, and three females who were littered around him to follow him.

Geta stood, “Come Empress, let us get you prepared for tomorrow’s festivities.”

***

Tomorrow arrived in the blink of an eye. Alba swarmed into Aurelia’s room, helping her pick out a baby blue dress for the first day of the games. “Empress, are you ready for the starting of your ceremony?”

“Yes Alba, I am not sure what to expect however.”

“My Lady, just sit and smile. It will appease both Emperor’s and crowd.”

Aurelia nods while Alba applies blush and eye liner. She steps back to admire her handy work, “Beautiful. Now my lady, let us get you down to the royal balcony.”

As they made their way down the hall and approached the royal balcony, they were stopped by a guard. “Where do you think you are going?” the guard barked. Aurelia was taken aback, “Sir, I am here to be seated with my husband.” The guard roared in laughter, “Pah! As if you would be married to anyone seated in here.” Aurelia had flash backs to how she once felt when she was first appointed into the palace. The commotion outside had perked the ears of those within the balcony. Geta stood to see his wife, looking beautiful as ever, crying outside the entry way.

He approached the steps, and shouted “What’s going on here?” The guard turned around and bowed, “Emperor, this imposter is trying to gain access to the balcony. I must banish her at once.” Geta took stride down the steps and approached the guard, “Does that make you feel big belittling my wife like that? Hmm?” The guard was completely taken aback, “Sire, I-I” “Yes, you opened that big ugly mouth of yours before you thought and took in her beauty. Look at her. She’s mine. My possession. She should be welcomed in here with open arms. Yet here you are, a low-life like you. You have belittled her in front of her subjects. Apologise. APOLOGISE TO AURELIA NOW.”

“Empress, forgive me, I did not realise it was you. I-”

“ENOUGH PEASANT. She will not give you forgiveness for you are not worthy. Now, I think there is a lovely spot for you out there in the theatre, don’t you brother?”

Geta turned and sure enough Caracalla was close at hand, “Oh yes brother! Nothing would please me more to issue him to join in the games – how fun!”

The guard was ushered by two others who brought him to the lower levels to meet his fate. Geta took Aurelia by the arm, “Are you okay, my love?” Aurelia looked to him with great adoration, despite him essentially signing a man’s life away, “Yes, Emperor.” With a smirk, he led her into the balcony, when she was stopped by Lucilla. She took her into her arms, an embrace which Aurelia greatly appreciated. She handed her a small bunch of lavender, “For the smell, my dear. It can send one astray – this keeps the senses pleasant for a while.” Aurelia thanked her greatly, she was a kind lady and one she liked to keep as a friend. She greeted Acacius with a curt bow, to which he took her hand and kissed it gently. Caracalla was next, to whom received the same greeting, he kissed her hand and took her into an embrace which shocked her, “Sister, I think you are going to love the Gladiator march – it’s the first thing to happen!” She giggled and thanked Caracalla for his efforts.

“Oh, please allow me to introduce you to Macrinus – he is a new friend. He produces only the best gladiators, all of which are featured here today.”

A tall, bearded man stood to take Aurelia’s hand in his, “Pleasure to meet you Macrinus.” He bowed and gently kissed her hand, “Pleasure is all mine, Empress.” She curtly nodded and made her way to Geta, who took her hand in his and approached the front of the balcony, waving to his subjects and showing off his new wife.

They made their way to the seats, when the Master of Ceremonies announced the Gladiator March. “Oh, this shall be fun!” Geta had a menacing look in his eye, and looked over to his brother where they shared a hand hold and a giggle to one another. Aurelia sighed, trying to keep up appearances and not look so concerned for the gladiator’s well-being. The march began, and droves of fighters took to the arena, each one marching around and forming almost snake-like formations. Marching. Marching. Marching. Until two particular gladiators caught her eye. She felt like she knew them from somewhere. She leaned forward in her seat and squinted her eyes in a bid for clearer eye-sight. She audibly let out a loud gasp and threw herself back in her seat. For she realised she did know the two.

It was her brothers.

Looking round to Geta, he was zoned in on the festivities, clueless to her outburst. Aurelia moved her eyes to Caracalla who grinned like a Cheshire cat, “Surprise!”

Part 7

[daisymbin]

fluff 23. "you stayed up all night taking care of me?". female reader taking care of a sick chan and healing him back to health :) 💖

AAA this is so cute :((( thank you for requesting!!

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // chan's m.list

fluff prompt #23: "you stayed up all night taking care of me?"

chan blinked awake, the sunlight streaming through the window a little too bright for his liking. his body still felt weak, but the headache that had pounded relentlessly last night was finally gone. as he shifted, his gaze landed on you, sitting cross-legged on the floor by the couch, scrolling through your phone with your hair a little messy and your hoodie slightly askew.

he smirked, his voice still rough with sleep. “you stayed up all night taking care of me? wow, you must really like me.”

you didn’t look up, but the corner of your lips twitched. “oh, you’re awake? great, because i was just about to leave before you started making those ridiculous assumptions again.”

“i’m serious,” he said, grinning as he pushed himself up slightly. “all this dedication, staying by my side all night—you’re making it pretty obvious, you know.”

you finally glanced at him, arching a brow. “obvious that i care about my best friend? sure. but don’t get too full of yourself, lee chan.”

“uh-huh,” he said, his grin widening. “you’re acting tough, but i know the truth. you couldn’t bear the thought of leaving me alone.”

you rolled your eyes, but there was a warmth in your chest that you refused to let show. “right. because the world revolves around you, doesn’t it?”

“admit it,” he said, his tone teasing but his eyes soft as they met yours. “you were worried about me.”

“and if i was?” you countered, your arms crossed as you looked at him.

his smirk faltered for a moment, his expression softening. “then i’d say… thank you. i didn’t mean to make you worry.”

“you’re such a pain,” you said, shaking your head. “one text would’ve been nice, you know. instead, i had to hear about it from seungkwan.”

“seungkwan has a big mouth,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

“he does,” you agreed, leaning back against the couch. “but i’m glad he told me. otherwise, who knows what kind of trouble you’d have gotten yourself into.”

“so you do care,” he said, his grin creeping back.

you gave him a pointed look. “don’t push your luck, chan.”

“oh, come on,” he teased, tilting his head. “you’re practically confessing right now. just say it. ‘chan, i stayed up all night because i’m secretly in love with you.’”

you let out a laugh, shaking your head. “you’re unbelievable.”

“and yet, here you are,” he said, leaning back against the couch cushions with an exaggerated sigh. “taking care of me, doting on me, proving my point.”

“fine,” you said, leaning forward with a smirk. “you almost sound like you have a crush on me, the way you’re going on about it.”

his eyes narrowed, the teasing glint in his gaze shifting to something more challenging. “so what if i do?”

you froze, your teasing grin faltering as his words hung in the air. “what?”

“what if i do have a crush on you?” he said, his tone steady but the slightest hint of nervousness flickering in his eyes. “what then?”

“chan…” you started, but he interrupted, sitting up fully now.

“no, seriously,” he said, leaning closer. “you want to joke about it, but what if it’s not a joke? what if i’ve been in love with you this whole time?”

your heart raced, caught off guard by his sudden shift in tone. “you're joking.”

he smirked, but there was something softer in his eyes. “you’re the one who said it almost sounds like i have a crush on you. i’m just confirming.”

“you’re being ridiculous,” you muttered, though your cheeks felt warm. you stared at him, torn between annoyance and disbelief. “you really can’t be serious.”

“why not?” he asked, leaning closer until his face was only inches from yours. “you’re my best friend. you stayed up all night for me. you’re basically already in love with me, too. i’m just calling it like it is.”

you narrowed your eyes at him, but the slight quiver in your voice betrayed you. “you’re awfully confident for someone who was mumbling nonsense about evil couches twelve hours ago.”

“i stand by what i said,” he replied easily, a laugh escaping his lips. “but you’re deflecting.”

you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “i can’t believe this is happening.”

“what’s so hard to believe?” he asked, prying your hands away gently. “i like you. you like me. we’re both here. it’s not that complicated.”

“who says i like you?” you shot back, but the heat in your cheeks was impossible to hide.

“your face,” he said, grinning. “your actions. the fact that you haven’t run out of here screaming yet.”

you sighed, your lips twitching into an involuntary smile. “you’re being ridiculous again.”

“and yet, here you are,” he said for the third time, his hand still holding yours.

you rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest was undeniable. “fine. you win. i like you. are you happy now?”

“very,” he said, his grin softening into something sweeter. “so… does this mean you’ll let me take you on a date once i’m not half-dead?”

“only if you promise to stop being so cocky,” you said, though your voice lacked its usual bite.

“no promises,” he said, his laugh filling the room like sunshine.

and despite everything, you found yourself smiling, too.

[tinkaaabutt]

FWU ~vi~

Subtitle:”im tryna fuck you girl YK I fuck with you”

The dim light of the underground tavern flickered as laughter and the clinking of glasses filled the air. You leaned back in your seat, sipping your drink, watching the chaos unfold around you. This was the Undercity—a place of grit, crime, and survival. It was also where you’d found her: Vi, the rough-edged fighter who had stolen your heart with her cocky grin and sharp tongue.

She entered the room like she owned it, her cropped pink hair catching the light and her fists wrapped in fresh bandages. Her sharp blue eyes scanned the room until they landed on you. The smirk that spread across her face made your chest tighten. She didn’t just walk toward you—she strode, her confidence palpable.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Vi greeted, sliding into the chair beside you. Her voice was low, teasing, and laced with warmth only you seemed to bring out.

“Vi,” you replied, meeting her gaze with a sly smile. “Done knocking heads around for the night?”

She chuckled, leaning in closer. “For now. Thought I’d spend some time with my favorite girl instead.”

Heat crept up your neck at her words, but you didn’t let her see it. “You always know what to say, huh?”

“Only when it comes to you,” Vi murmured, her hand brushing yours.

The rough texture of her knuckles contrasted with the softness of your skin as she intertwined your fingers. You studied her hand for a moment—so strong, so calloused, yet gentle when it came to you.

“What happened this time?” you asked, running your thumb over a fresh bruise on her wrist.

“Just a scuffle,” she said with a shrug, but you knew better.

“You need to take care of yourself, Vi.” Your voice was firm, but your eyes softened as you looked at her.

“I’ve got you to take care of me,” she replied, her smirk softening into something more vulnerable. “Don’t I?”

The way she looked at you—like you were the only thing keeping her grounded—made your chest ache. You leaned in, your lips brushing against hers. She kissed you back with a hunger that matched her intensity in everything else. Her hand cupped your cheek, pulling you closer, her thumb tracing the curve of your jaw.

When you finally broke apart, her breath was warm against your skin. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

“Coming from you?” you teased, your fingers tugging gently at the collar of her jacket. “That’s rich.”

She laughed, the sound low and gravelly, before pulling you into her lap. “Stick around, and I’ll show you just how much trouble I can be.”

And you knew you would, for as long as she’d have you.

Vi’s laughter faded as her gaze darkened, the playful smirk tugging at her lips shifting into something more primal. The heat in her eyes made your pulse race. She tilted her head, her fingers tightening on your waist as you straddled her lap.

“You keep looking at me like that,” she murmured, her voice rough and low, “and I’ll forget we’re in a crowded room.”

Your breath hitched, but you held her gaze, emboldened by the fire in her tone. “Maybe I don’t care if anyone’s watching.”

Her hands slid to your hips, gripping you firmly, pulling you closer until there wasn’t an inch of space between you. Her lips ghosted along the curve of your jaw, the rasp of her breath sending shivers down your spine.

“Careful, babe,” she whispered, her teeth grazing your earlobe. “I’m not exactly known for my self-control.”

You tilted your head back, giving her better access as her lips trailed down your neck, her kisses turning to bites that left your skin tingling. The heat in the room seemed to grow heavier, your heart pounding against your ribs.

“Vi,” you breathed, your voice a mix of a plea and a challenge.

She hummed against your skin, her hands slipping under your shirt to rest on your bare waist. Her calloused fingers were rough against your softness, but the contrast only made you crave her touch more.

“Let’s get out of here,” she rasped, her voice thick with desire. “I want you all to myself.”

You didn’t even hesitate. Sliding off her lap, you grabbed her hand, dragging her through the crowded tavern. Vi followed willingly, her grip firm and possessive, her body radiating heat as she stayed close behind you.

The moment the two of you were alone—hidden away in her dimly lit apartment—she had you pinned against the wall, her lips crashing against yours with a ferocity that left you breathless.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” she muttered against your mouth, her hands roaming over your body, exploring every curve like she’d never get enough.

“You’re one to talk,” you shot back, your fingers tangling in her short pink hair, pulling just enough to make her groan.

Her lips curled into a grin, and she pressed her thigh between your legs, drawing a soft gasp from you. “You gonna let me take care of you tonight?”

The answer came in the way your body melted into hers, your hands clutching at her jacket, pulling her closer. Her touch turned more confident, more demanding, as she lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bed.

Her kisses grew slower, deeper, as her hands slipped under your clothes, exploring the warmth of your skin. “You’re so damn beautiful,” she murmured, her voice softer now, but no less intense.

And as the night unfolded, Vi proved, again and again, that she could be both rough and tender—all for you.

The way Vi laid you on the bed was anything but gentle. Her strength was undeniable, her hands gripping your thighs to pull you flush against her. She hovered over you, her smirk sharp and teasing as she took her time, her gaze trailing down your body.

“You’re even better than I remember,” she murmured, her voice rough and heavy with want.

Her hands roamed freely now, tracing the curves of your body with a reverence that sent shivers through you. Her fingers hooked into the hem of your top, pulling it up and over your head in one fluid motion. The cool air kissed your skin, but it was nothing compared to the fire burning between the two of you.

Vi leaned down, her lips brushing your collarbone, then your chest, her kisses growing wetter, hotter, as she moved lower. Her hands slid to your hips, her thumbs pressing circles into your bare skin as her lips found the sensitive skin above your bra. She paused, looking up at you with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Tell me what you want, babe,” she whispered, her voice low and raspy.

“You,” you breathed, arching into her touch.

“Yeah?” Her smirk widened as she slipped a hand behind you, unhooking your bra with ease. She tossed it aside without breaking eye contact, her lips finding your nipple, her tongue swirling around the sensitive peak. The sensation sent a jolt through you, and you tangled your fingers in her pink hair, pulling her closer.

“Fuck, Vi,” you gasped, your back arching as her other hand cupped your breast, kneading gently.

“That’s my girl,” she murmured, her teeth grazing the soft skin just enough to make your breath hitch.

Her lips trailed lower, her kisses growing slower and more deliberate. She tugged at your pants, her fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of your hips as she slid them down, leaving you bare beneath her. Vi’s eyes darkened as she took in the sight of you, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.

“You’re perfect,” she rasped, her voice dripping with hunger.

You barely had time to respond before her mouth was on you, her tongue tracing a slow, teasing path along the inside of your thigh. She held your legs apart, her grip firm but gentle, as her lips trailed closer and closer to where you needed her most.

When her tongue finally brushed against your center, a broken moan escaped your lips. She groaned at the sound, her hands tightening on your thighs as she held you in place.

“God, you taste so good,” she murmured against you, her voice muffled but filled with heat.

Her tongue moved with practiced precision, alternating between slow, teasing strokes and firm, deliberate pressure that left you writhing beneath her. She knew exactly how to unravel you, her lips and tongue working in perfect rhythm as she brought you closer and closer to the edge.

Your fingers gripped her hair tighter, your hips bucking against her mouth as your breaths came faster, more ragged. “Vi, I—”

“Come on, baby,” she urged, her voice sending vibrations through you. “Let go for me.”

And you did, your body tensing as waves of pleasure crashed over you. She didn’t stop, her mouth moving against you, drawing out every last tremor until you were left breathless and trembling.

Vi pulled back slightly, her lips glistening, her smirk as cocky as ever. She crawled back up your body, her hands bracketing your face as she kissed you deeply, letting you taste yourself on her tongue.

“Think you can handle another round?” she asked, her voice low and teasing.

You grinned, your fingers trailing down her chest to tug at her belt. “Oh, I’m just getting started.”

You tugged Vi’s belt free with a swift pull, her sharp intake of breath fueling your confidence. She raised an eyebrow at you, her smirk deepening as she watched you take the lead.

“Oh, so you’re feeling bold tonight?” she teased, her voice low and husky.

You didn’t bother responding with words. Instead, you leaned up, pressing your lips to hers in a kiss that was all heat and hunger. Your hands slid under her jacket, shoving it off her shoulders, then made quick work of her shirt, leaving her in nothing but the sports bra she always seemed to wear.

“Damn,” you murmured, taking her in, your fingers trailing down her toned stomach.

Vi’s cocky smirk faltered for a moment, replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. “You’re really something else, you know that?”

“Shut up and let me take care of you for once,” you shot back, your voice dripping with affection and intent.

Vi raised her hands in mock surrender, her grin returning. “By all means, babe. I’m not stopping you.”

You pushed her back onto the bed, straddling her hips as you leaned down to kiss her neck, your lips and teeth leaving a trail of marks along her skin. She groaned, her hands gripping your thighs tightly, her nails digging into your flesh just enough to make you gasp.

Your fingers traced the waistband of her pants, teasing her before finally undoing them and sliding them down her hips. She lifted her body to help you, her muscles flexing under your touch.

“You’re fucking gorgeous, Vi,” you said, your voice soft but firm.

Her cheeks flushed slightly at your words, but she quickly covered it with a smirk. “And you’re a tease.”

You laughed, leaning down to kiss her again as your hands roamed over her body, exploring every inch of her. When your fingers slipped beneath the fabric of her briefs, you felt her tense beneath you, her sharp exhale brushing against your lips.

“Relax,” you murmured, your voice soothing. “I’ve got you.”

Her blue eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, the usual bravado melted away. She was vulnerable, raw, and entirely yours.

You moved your hand slowly, deliberately, your fingers finding her wet and warm. The sound she made—a low, guttural moan—sent a shiver through you. Her hips bucked against your hand, her breathing growing ragged as you found a rhythm that made her fall apart.

“Fuck,” she groaned, her head tilting back, exposing the strong line of her neck. “You’re too good at this.”

“You make it easy,” you teased, pressing a kiss to her collarbone.

Her grip on your thighs tightened as you quickened your pace, her body arching into yours. She was falling apart under you, her usual confidence replaced by pure, unfiltered need.

When she came, it was with your name on her lips, her body shuddering beneath you as you rode out the waves with her. You didn’t stop until she was trembling, her breaths coming in uneven gasps.

“Holy shit,” Vi muttered, her voice hoarse as she looked up at you with a dazed smile. “Where the hell have you been all my life?”

You grinned, leaning down to kiss her gently, your fingers brushing a strand of pink hair from her face. “Right here, waiting for you to catch up.”

Vi laughed, pulling you into her arms and rolling you onto your back. “Well, don’t think we’re done just yet,” she said, her smirk returning as she hovered over you. “I’ve still got plenty of fight left in me.”

And with that, the night was far from over.

[evilasiangenius]

A starling flew down, and once more landed on Crowley’s hand.

“I thought you told me to fuck off,” Crowley said to the bird. But then the white-speckled starling began to sing.

The bird had no words for this song, just a melody, but it was one that Crowley had not heard in a long time. The last time he had heard this song of Euripides, Aziraphale had played him a snippet as a quote at supper but then stopped because he said it was too sad and didn’t want to continue. They had ended the evening together as they usually did, talking until past dawn or maybe that was a different night or a different one and did it matter which night it was, when it was with Aziraphale?

Ten years behind, ten years athwart his way Waiting and home, lost and unfriended…

The two angels, fallen and otherwise, gave each other startled looks as the bird sang. It was joined by other birds, slowly, until a great murmuration descended down upon them from the skies, huddled under the protective cover of the courtyard corridor, warbling snippets and pieces of the song from garbled memory. Lost notes, added beats. The trill of a robin, the tap of the chisel upon wood, the rasp of a saw, the liquid burble of water. The chatter of a squirrel. A note, two notes, all a semitone off, the tuning of the scale that the song would have originally been in set adrift upon a heaving sea of sound, sliding on and off its tonal base as if the foundation was cracked and crumbling but the heart of the song remained recognizable.

As the starlings continued to sing it was as if he could feel at once all the words upon his lips.

A rift of the hills, raging with winter rain, Dead and outcast and naked. It is I beside my bridegroom And the wild beasts cry…

Crowley flinched; he had not heard this song in centuries and never this much of it, not since he first saw the play in Athens in the year of the Herm-breaking (which by the way was not his doing, not in the slightest, though he had received commendations for it later). Aziraphale had been there too, they had watched it together in the great theatre in Athens and they had long conversations about this particular play, until Crowley had not wanted to talk about it anymore.

“I think…” Aziraphale began.

“No, it’s fine. I should leave. I’m going to leave.” Crowley moved to duck out from under the corridor, but the starlings did not scatter. They stayed stubborn, blocking his path. The demon snarled in annoyance and threw up his hands, unwilling to exert his infernal will upon the birds to force them to leave.

“It’s still raining,” Aziraphale ventured, though he did not move from where he was standing, white speckled starlings perched all about him, some upon his shoulders, some fluttering in his curling hair as if nesting, another perched on his outstretched hand.

“So? Why is that a problem?”

“Because…because you should stay until the rain stops and things dry out a little. I know you don’t like being cold and wet.”

“Does it matter? Why would it matter?”

“It matters to m–” Aziraphale said, but then paused to think. “It should matter to you. You…should take better care of yourself.”

“Why?”

“B-because it’s virtuous!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “It’s virtuous to take care of oneself!”

“I don’t care about being manly or good or ethical or whatever that word means now.”

“Then…then because otherwise you scare cats. And people,” Aziraphale said.

“Why should I care if I scare cats or people?”

“You scare me too!”

The silence between them was not even broken by the birds who watched them with curious eyes, but slowly, as the two angels fallen and otherwise stood there, unable to find the words with which to address each other, the birds began to leave, one by one, fluttering off in a great white-speckled cloud.

more

[laughtalelogs]

In the Shadows of Buffalo Bay - Prologue

word count: 1.5k+

Zoro x afab!Reader x Sanji, cowgirl!reader no use of y/n, no beta reader, all my reader characters are black even if not explicitly stated. if that's not ur jam, then don’t read!

Rating: M (smut will be in future chapters, labelled as Explicit.)

Warnings: themes of alcohol, drug use, smoking, mental health issues, implications of self-harm, and violence to come.

Summary: Right after the Straw Hats leave the land of Wano; they land on Buffalo Bay, a gourmet cattle island known for its famous fairs, cowboys, and food. What they find is a dusty town, ruled by a sheriff with more secrets than she lets on. When she challenges the swordsman and seduces the cook, they both can't help but wonder: what is she hiding? And how will her past, entwined with the island's dark history, affect their crew? cross-posted to ao3 @laughtalelogs

Special thanks to @sigilsmut for giving me major inspiration with his OC, Honeko. Please check them out, they’re both pretty neat!

Prologue: Dark Red

Prrr. Prrr. Prrr. Cu-lick.

“It’s been quite a while since you’ve called, are you sure about this?”

“Quite. They made it clear it would be utterly careless not to. Expected arrival time is at sunrise. No messes, you hear?”

“Clear as day, sir. Considering the walk in the park you just gave me, should I leave the ‘Thank You’ note with them, or should I save that for when you decide to ring again?”

“Focus. Stick to the plan. And it wouldn’t hurt to remember our deal.”

Cu-lick.

“Great.”

Zoro stirred from his slumber as soon as he heard the laugh of his captain. Was it already time for Brook to take his shift? Did he sleep through breakfast? He didn’t feel the sun on him just yet. He shrugged it off. If there was danger, he’d know, no doubt. He allowed his shoulders to relax as sleep absorbed him once more.

Until suddenly, “Now, Usopp, Chopper!”

The floor shifted, he shot back, the air in his lungs suddenly slammed out of him as his head struck the glass of the crow’s nest. His eye shot open, but his vision swam, followed by a thrumming on the base of his skull. He quickly grabbed his swords that slid under the bench from the change of position, scoping his surroundings. 

Of course, when his guard was down, something would happen to the ship. He ignored the way his vision blurred to turn around and scan the ship through the glass beneath him. He saw a familiar straw hat from a distance and loosened the tight grip of his blades. At least someone was out there.

What he still was trying to figure out was why in the hell was Luffy at the helm? Zoro ran to the hatch. He angled himself down the ladder and tightened his grip as he quickly realized they were soaring through the sky. 

“What the fuck is happening?!” He shouted over the whipping wind, watching Luffy let go of the wheel to stand on the now horizontal mast.

  He just laughed and held onto his hat, his standard goofy grin shined in the moonlight.  “We’re going to the city of meat, duh!”

“You idiot!” Zoro yelled. “We were going to be there in the morning!” His warning fell on deaf ears. Luffy, who was singing and dancing about meat, was too busy to care. He hoped everyone else was safe.

He already had a bad feeling about the poster they’d found on the ghost ship yesterday. The rest of the crew, however, seemed unfazed. Nami had determined from her Log Pose that they’d reach the island by sunrise, and everyone was eager for a break after the war they’d just endured. But, of course, Luffy’s hunger had to ruin that plan.

He glanced around while his thoughts wandered for a brief and unwelcomed moment.

Where was the damn cook? His face soured, trying to force the thought down as soon as it came. He’s probably clinging onto his bed in the men’s quarters like an idiot, he thought again, but the idea of Sanji flying overboard refused to leave his mind. 

“He’ll survive just in spite of me thinking that,” He humored, muttering under his breath to himself, the usual bite in his tone gone. Still, he scanned the doors for a mop of blonde hair that he wouldn’t admit he waited to appear. If he had half the brain Zoro thought he had, he’s probably helping the others. 

Now, Zoro was stuck there, gripping the rope ladder as he tried to make sense of the chaos. Over Luffy’s shoulder, he caught glimpses of the dark horizon. The Sunny pitched forward sharply, teetering above the sea before nose diving toward land. Zoro was relaxed as ever—if relaxed meant cursing under his breath and bracing for impact.

“Hold o-” Zoro’s warnings were cut off as the ship slammed into hard dirt, skidding like a rock skipping across a pond. Zoro jostled against the rope ladder with each impact, gritting his teeth. The hull screeched. Luffy was laughing, because of course this was absolutely hilarious to him, as he swung on a stretched arm. A chorus of startled yelling joined the ship’s groaning protests, the crew must have been rudely woken up just like him. 

Finally, they stopped. The wood wheezed underneath them, the pitch black enveloping them on all sides. 

“That was awesome!” Luffy’s cackle echoed off into the dark night as he dropped from the mast back onto the grassy deck. “Did you see that Zoro?!” 

He did more than see it, he thought. He drops from the rope onto the deck. He went to reply, but heard doors slamming open and shut, followed by multiple yells for the same person.

“LUFFY!”

Everyone clambered in, one after another. Jinbei carried Brook’s head, while Franky angrily dragged the other two culprits with him. Behind them, Zoro sees a shock of blonde, and he lets go of a breath he didn’t realise he had been holding. He scratched the back of his head and rolled his shoulders, as if his previous worries would fall off of them. Adrenaline is still pumped through his veins under hot skin, cooled off by the night’s air. 

“Morning everyone!” Luffy said excitedly, smile stretched so wide Zoro wouldn’t be surprised if his face stayed like that. “We’re here! Good work, Usopp and Chopper!”

“I can’t believe I let him talk me into this..” Usopp groaned and whimpered under the tight grip Franky held his waist in, and Chopper gasped for air. 

  “Too tight, too tight!” He clawed at the large hand with his hooves to no avail.

Nami was already tearing Luffy a new one, and Franky was following suit. Even Jinbei had a look of dismay, while Brook was steadily complaining in his palm.  as she clutched onto the blonde’s side out of fear of being shot off the ship. 

“You can’t believe it,” Franky says through his teeth, dropping the two to the floor. “I can’t believe all the work I’m going to have to do on the Sunny because of you 3, this is not super, bros.” 

“I’m thinking we should’ve kept him in the cage,” Sanji muttered as he let go of Nami and set down robin on the deck. 

“I agree with you Sanji,” Nami bellowed as she charged past Zoro, and pinched hard on Luffy’s cheek. “I don’t think he learned his lesson from the waterfall, after all,” 

Luffy whined halfheartedly like a child. “Ow- I’m really sorry, Nami.. I was just hungry, ya know!”

“When you’re hungry, you wake up Sanji. You don’t crash the ship into land in the middle of the night!” She screamed, and it ringed in Zoro's ears, the sharp pain in his head roared to life. He winced and rubbed the back of his head again. It didn't surprise him when he removed his hand that he saw smudges of red on his finger tips.

“Why didn’t you stop him?” He felt a gentle kick at his shin, turning to see Sanji staring at him. He had dark circles underneath his wide, tired eyes that bore straight through Zoro. The blond hair that covered his face illuminated with the light of his lighter. The flame flickered to life as he scanned around, taking in their surroundings. “What happened to keeping watch?"

  Zoro rolled his eyes, “I keep watch against threats, not our own crew. Besides, how was I supposed to know what he was going to do, curly?” He really wasn’t in the mood to fight with the bastard, especially not this early in the morning. He watches Sanjis eyes look at him, squinting like he could see through him, his eyes lingering on the hand Zoro had rubbed his head with. Zoro wipes his hand on the back of his pants, shrugging it off like he already knew what Sanji would say next. They remain silent, but everything in Sanji’s eyes looks like they’re begging a question. Zoro chest tightens as he bit back the pain in his head and heart.

“I’m fine, Cook. Nothing happened,” Is all he gives, turning away to look at the rest of the crew. "Drop it."

“I didn’t say a thing, Moss,” Is all he says in response, lighting a new cigarette as he listened to the crew begin to brainstorm a plan of action.

After a moment of arguing and tired deliberation, All adventures to the mysterious Buffalo Bay were cut off for the night. Even with Luffy’s master plan, they had no choice but to wait until sunrise with how dark it was. Even with Franky’s freak ass lights, they could only see dirt and grass for what seemed to stretch on for forever. Robin questioned if there was any land of meat at all, and the fact they were stranded settled amongst the group in a grim veil.

So much for a tourist destination, he thought. He had heard enough of the plan. He walked away from the group, settling on the edge of the grass to rest his aching head. As sleep began to overtake him as he droned out the sounds of his friends talking, he couldn’t help but to feel a pit in the bottom of his stomach. It was small, but large enough to annoy him and eat away at his steeled nerves. Something was really off about this island. As sleep washed over him, he could only think that that was just something he’d have to worry about later. 

A/N: AHHH finally!! I have been planning this fic in my head with multiple drafts and outlines and brainstorming for I think 2 months at this point, and finally feel pretty good about how to started this off.

I hope you enjoyed the prequel! I have the chapter one 75% done, I just need to edit it some more but expect it some time 11/28 at night. I hope to have it up and chapter two by Sunday! The next chapter will introduce the reader, i promise! also, future chapters will switch between perspectives. This will be a slow burn so stick around if you wanna see how it plays out! Feedback, love, and criticism is much appreciated ♡

Also, all chapter titles are based off songs, please listen to them if you want to feel immersed!

[itzsana-kiddingmenow]

300 𝙛𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙡: 𝙙𝙖𝙮 1 — 𝙖𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙝𝙤𝙢𝙚

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨: 3.5k (phew its been a while since i wrote something this long)

𝙖/𝙣: OMG I FINALLY GET TO POST THIS!! yall i needed a minsung okayyyy i dont ship them IRL but i NEEDED this plot. also as of now, tickletober is put on hold until im able to finish it all and post it all at the same time :3

𝙩/𝙬: ROMANTIC PLOT, read at your own risk! rougher tickles but it remains soft between them, use of gentle restraint, teasing, and mentions of romantic moments

𝒍𝒆𝒆: spiderman! jisung

𝙡𝙚𝙧: minho

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @someone-who-loves-kpop-saranghae @jeonginsdiary @leeknowstan33 @v--143 @wereallgonnadieonedaybutnottoday @inkytornpagess @lajanaa @a-wild-seungberry @channieissocute125 @soap143 @seungsluvv @skznccmlee @moony-9 @sunny-117 @minnielvrr

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 ���𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞? 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛��𝐛s🖤

Minho had always been the type to go unnoticed, despite his strikingly pretty face. 

His quiet demeanor and cold attitude kept people at a distance, which suited him just fine. 

While others in his class buzzed with the excitement of high school friendships and crushes, Minho remained detached, his heart only warmed by small, random moments.

Then there was Jisung.

Minho first noticed him during chemistry class, a boy with messy hair and a habit of biting his lip when nervous. 

The thing was, Jisung was always nervous around Minho. He would blush furiously whenever they were partnered up, stutter when asking him something, and occasionally knock over a beaker or two in his fluster.

Minho found it…oddly adorable. Not that he’d admit it, but he’d grown a little fond of watching the way Jisung’s face turned bright pink whenever they were close.

But that day, Minho wasn’t thinking of Jisung or himself. He was just walking, thinking, in the middle of the night. 

Until he heard a crash, and three huge, buff dudes decided to approach him, backing him against the wall. 

“Where’s your money?” One asked harshly, and fear gripped Minho as he felt his back hit the wall. He was a student—he couldn’t lose his money. 

Before he could react, the guy grabbed at him, reaching for his bag, but just as panic set in, something—someone—appeared out of nowhere, swooping down in a blur of red and dark blue.

“Whoa, easy there! Hands off the pretty boy, yeah?” A teasing voice called, followed by the unmistakable thwip of web shooters. Within seconds, the robber was stuck to the nearby alley wall, struggling but securely bound in webs.

Minho stood there, wide-eyed and slightly dazed, his heart still hammering in his chest. His savior landed gracefully in front of him, offering an exaggerated bow. "No need to thank me. All in a day's work, saving helpless civilians."

Minho blinked, taking in the familiar red and blue costume. “You’re…Spiderman….”

“Yep, that’s me.” Spiderman said, straightening up with a cocky grin hidden behind his mask. “You alright?”

Minho stared in disbelief. “I’m fine.” He mumbled, his usual cool facade barely intact after the sudden encounter.

“Well, good. You should be more careful, walking around here alone. Cute guys like you attract all kinds of trouble.” There was a teasing lilt to Spiderman’s voice that made Minho bristle slightly. 

“Maybe next time we can hang out when you’re not about to get mugged.” Spiderman tilted his head playfully. “Got a number?”

Minho paused, his usual reservations kicking in, but something about the situation—the thrill of being saved, the strange charm of Spiderman—made him relent. “Fine. Give me your phone.”

Spiderman handed it over, and Minho quickly punched in his number before handing it back.

“Nice. I’ll be sure to text you if I save you again~” Spiderman teased.

“Don’t get cocky,” Minho muttered, watching as Spiderman grinned behind his mask and disappeared into the night.

Minho recounted everything that had just occurred with a disbelieving laugh. Did I just befriend Spiderman? And why is he shorter than me? 

Returning to his college the next day, Minho sincerely hoped Jisung had made progress on the chemistry project. He knew he was pretty pre-occupied last night. 

He walked up and sat next to the boy, watching his chubby cheeks turn pink as they always did, just as Han wished him a good morning, biting his lower lip and holding out his lab book sweetly; He had done half of the experiment already. 

Minho smiled gently down at him, taking the book from Sung’s shaky hands and reading through the data, all handwritten in Jisung’s neat scrawl. 

“Wow, good job, Jisung! I can’t believe you managed to do all of this in a day.” Min grinned at the smaller boy, who smiled a crinkly, adorable smile that made Minho oddly want to grab his face and kiss him senseless. 

“T-Thank you…” Jisung smiled shyly, ears turning the same shade of pink as his cheeks. God, he’s so endearing. 

After working hard on the project and suffering through every experiment part, Minho was finally done. 

“Good job, Hannie.” He knew he had to be gentle with Jisung; Just cause he wasn’t  popular doesn’t mean the sweet, nerdy, extremely smart Sungie wasn’t shy. 

“Thank you.” Jisung smiled shyly again. 

Minho got home to the dorms, pulling his phone out just to see a message: 

Spidey: Meet me on the roof in 5 >:)

God, not the roof. Minho had a horrible fear of heights. He knew Spiderman didn’t know that, though. 

Reaching for the doorknob, Minho braced himself as he stepped out, just to look down and feel fear immediately spike through his system. 

The ground below felt impossibly far away, the edge of the roof suddenly far too close. Minho froze, fingers tightening on the doorknob. 

His heart pounded in his chest, breath quickening as a wave of dizziness hit him. His knees gave out slightly, and before he realized it, he was practically crumpled at the door, clinging to the knob like a lifeline. Holy shit holy shit holy shit—

“Minho?” 

Spidey’s voice was soft, a teasing lilt barely audible over the sound of Minho’s ragged breathing. Minho squeezed his eyes shut, his knuckles white as he gripped the door behind him.

“I—I don’t think I can move…” He admitted in a shaky whisper, his breaths coming too fast now, shallow and desperate.

“Hey, I’m sorry…I didn’t know you were scared.” Spiderman’s voice was gentle, and Minho could feel a warm, gloved hand cover his. 

“I won’t let you fall, I promise.”

Minho’s breath hitched, but the warmth of Spidey’s hands steadied him. He forced his eyes open, meeting the masked gaze of the here as he pulled him upright, keeping a strong arm around his waist.

“Look at me—” Spidey said, his voice close now, almost soothing as it cut through Minho’s rising panic. “Even if you fall, I’ll catch you. You’re safe. I’ve got you, okay?”

Slowly, Minho nodded, clutching Spidey’s arm as they approached the ledge. When they finally stopped, Minho dared to glance down and saw the view before him—the city lights glittering like stars, stretching far into the distance. 

The sight was stunning, but his legs still felt weak, the ground far below pulling at him with an unsettling gravity.

But he knew that Spidey wouldn’t let him fall. Speaking of Spiderman, he was rambling animatedly to Minho. “See? Isn’t it so pretty?” 

Minho took another breath, steadying himself as his eyes roamed the view. Now that the panic was fading, he had to admit, it was pretty. The city spread out like a glittering web, each light flickering like tiny stars in the dark. He exhaled softly. 

“Yeah… it’s nice.”

“I—Oh…I-I’m sorry!!” Jisung gasped, knocking over a test tube as he dumped his books on the table with a tiny whimper and took a seat next to Minho. He was late, Min noticed. 

And he was wearing a long sleeved tee…it was really hot outside. Minho’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, but he didn’t say anything. 

Then, while Jisung was writing in his lab book, Min noticed a deep cut on his wrist, the skin red and bruised, and he wanted to ask what had happened, but the bell rang and Sungie seemed very intent on getting out of Min’s way. 

Minho met up with Spidey on the roof, giggling and laughing at funny stories and smiling as Spiderman continued his random antics. 

Minho found himself enjoying every moment, every minuscule thing he did with the red and blue decked superhero. It took all his worries away, and he knew that not much could do that. 

Spidey stopped rambling and winced, holding his wrist. 

“What’s wrong?” Minho asked gently, and the hero shook his head. “I got cut today morning, I was fighting a villain. It hurts, but I guess it’ll be okay.”  

Minho noticed the placement of the cut seemed very…familiar? Like he’d already seen it that day, and he racked his mind for any clue as to why an ice-cold realization was one thought away from occurring. 

Minho’s mind slowly began to create some connections between Jisung and Spiderman. It was probably his brain making stuff up…but he found the two really similar. 

They were both the same height, and he could tell Spidey’s cheeks were just as soft. He knew he would’ve thought that Jisung was Spiderman way earlier…If it weren’t for some differing factors. 

For example, Jisung gets shy almost immediately. He’s barely able to even hold a conversation with Minho, becoming flustered so quickly. 

And his clumsiness. 

Minho, noticing that Spidey and Sungie seemed to have the same cut in the same placement, but he had previously attributed Jisung’s little accident to his clumsiness. 

Jisung tripped often, often over his own feet, and his hands were naturally shaky and even his adorably thin, gold-framed glasses couldn’t save himself from his own tripping and falling. 

Minho thought for a little while longer, and for some reason, although everything fit, he was just unable to believe that the shy, cute,  blushing boy from his chemistry class was a web-shooting superhero. 

But it all clicked. 

The next day, Jisung stumbled into the class, hair tousled, late as normal, and he seemed to notice Minho staring holes into his head. “D-Do you need something, hyung?” He set his things down beside Minho. 

Minho shook his head, remaining silent. The teasing, confident spider he had been meeting on the roof was really shy, clumsy, sweet Jisung from chemistry. Minho almost couldn’t believe it. 

The second class was over, Minho was grabbing Jisung’s wrist, forcing him into the janitor’s closet and almost laughing at the flustered squeak he earned in response. 

“Hyung…what—” Jisung’s voice wobbled, his wide eyes darting around the tiny space as he blinked in confusion.

Minho pressed a finger to Jisung’s lips, grinning down at him. “You didn’t think you’d get away that easily, did you, Spiderman?”

Jisung froze, his face paling before turning a shade of red that rivaled his suit. “W-What—?!” Adorable. 

“Oh, don’t play dumb,” Minho teased, his voice low as he leaned in closer. “I know who you are now. Spiderman~” he whispered the name with a teasing lilt, watching as Jisung squirmed, trying to hide his flushed face behind his hands.

Sungie looked like he wanted to say more, his mouth opening and closing in shock and fear. “H-How?!” 

“Your wrist? You have a cut, Sung.” Minho deadpanned, and he startled at the sight of tears gathering in Jisung’s lashline. 

“Minho—Hyung…you can’t tell anyone! Okay?!” Jisung seemed stressed, his eyes widening as he made his point clear. 

“Sungie…of course I won’t. You don’t have to worry.” Minho smiled gently, cupping Jisung’s cheeks and waiting for the poor boy to calm down. 

“I-I didn’t think you’d find out…I tried to hide the cut, but I guess it didn’t work…” Hannie muttered, and Minho grinned. “You’re so confident and strong in your suit, but you’re so shy and clumsy here, Peter Han.” 

Jisung groaned, his entire face turning an even deeper shade of red as he covered his face again. “Oh my god...”

Minho chuckled softly, stepping closer until he was practically towering over the shorter boy. “You’re so tiny. And so cute~” he teased, poking Jisung lightly in the side.

Jisung whined as Minho leaned in, face inches away. “I bet you’re so cute blushing…so adorable~” 

“Hyung!” Jisung squealed. 

Jisung stumbled out of the storage closet, almost dropping half of his books, face bright red and lips swollen, Minho following with a grin, half of his lip tint wiped clean off. 

“Bye, Sungie!~” Minho laughed, smiling fondly as Jisung raced down the hallway with a blushing squeak, his face bright red and his cheeks looking even chubbier than usual. 

Minho waited at the roof, smiling as a certain red and blue superhero flipped and landed gracefully, squeaking as Minho pinned him against the wall immediately, yanking his mask off of his head. 

Min smiled fondly at the sight of Sungie’s messy hair and his adrenaline-flushed cheeks. 

Jisung, clearly caught off guard, took a step back—only to stumble over his own feet. He yelped, nearly losing his balance. But before he could fall, Minho’s hands shot out, grabbing him by the waist and pulling him back upright.

“Careful, Spidey~” Minho teased, his grip firm and steady around Jisung’s waist. He grinned as Jisung squirmed in his arms, clearly embarrassed. “Can’t have my hero tripping over himself now, can I?” He pulled them so Jisung’s chest was flush against his. 

Without warning, Minho pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. 

“Wha—No! Minho!” Jisung groaned in mortification, hands flying to cover his face as Minho burst into laughter. “You’re the worst!” 

“And you’re cute,” Minho shot back, still grinning. He took a step closer, gently tapping Jisung’s chin to get him to look up. 

“Stopp…I’m not cute—!” 

“Are you kidding me?” Minho cut him off, tilting Jisung’s head slightly as he inspected him, his tone turning soft but serious. “You’re literally the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. Your face is adorable.”

Jisung opened his mouth to protest, but Minho wasn’t done. “You’ve got this tiny mole right here.” Minho pointed out, tapping the small mole on Jisung’s cheek. “I’ve wanted to kiss it since the first time I saw you.”

Jisung squeaked at that, his eyes widening in disbelief. “W-What?!”

“And your hair.” Minho continued, running his fingers through Jisung’s tousled locks. “It’s always a mess, but it’s so soft. You look like a tiny baby bird.”

Jisung let out an embarrassed whimper, trying and failing to hide his face as Minho kept hold of him, the teasing grin never leaving his lips. “Minho, s-stop…”

“And don’t even get me started on your body…” Minho said, pulling back just enough to look at Jisung’s small, slender frame. “You’re so tiny. How is someone this tiny supposed to be Spiderman?”

Jisungie groaned and hid his face against Min’s chest with a flustered whine, and Minho had an idea to cause some extra mischief. 

For a moment, neither of them spoke, content to just be in each other’s arms. The night air was cool, but Minho felt nothing but warmth with Jisung in his arms, the quiet moment feeling far more intimate than all the teasing that had come before.

Minho prodded Jisung’s side once. And just like that, the intimate energy was gone. 

“S-Stohop!!” Hannie smacked his hand away, but the tickle monster within Minho had woken up, and he was hungry. 

With a playful smirk, Minho snatched Jisung’s web shooter, and playfully stuck his wrists above his head with a speed Jisung’s couldn’t even comprehend, pressing them agaisnt the wall, causing Jisung to gasp in surprise. 

"You really think I’m gonna stop now, Sungie?" Minho asked, his voice dripping with amusement as placed Jisung’s web shooter back, and Jisung was trapped there, completely at his mercy. 

Minho stepped closer, leaning in so their faces were inches apart. Jisung held his breath, anticipation swirling in his stomach. But instead of a kiss, Minho’s fingers wiggled mischievously as they found their way to Jisung’s sides.

“Minho, don’t you dare—” Jisung began, but before he could finish, Minho’s fingers descended, spidering along Jisung’s sides with a devilish precision. Poor Sungie’s body jolted at the touch, a squeal escaping his lips as he arched his back, legs kicking out frantically behind Minho’s back.

“NONONO—Hyuhuhuhung nohohohoho!! THAHAHAT TIHIHICKLES!!” Sungie shrieked, eyes slitting as his heart-shaped smile appeared, stretching his chubby, pink cheeks. 

Jisung could feel his spider-sense going absolutely wild in his head, his body jolting at every touch as his spider suit allowed Minho access to every spot and detail along his skin uninterrupted. 

It drove Sungie mad, unable to squirm away due to the strength of his own webs as Minhi moved to his ribs next, grabbing his rib-cage with his hands and kneading in mercilessly. 

“PLEHEHEHEHEASEE!!” Jisung tried to squirm, tried to wiggle free, but Minho had him firmly pinned, his legs helplessly flailing as his laughter grew louder, sweeter, more frantic. 

His cheeks flushed a deep pink, his blonde hair sticking to his forehead as he gasped for air between giggles. “WAHAHAHAIT!! Wahahahait wait a sehehehecond—!!”

“Oh, wait? I don’t think so~” Minho cooed, his fingers suddenly pinching at Jisung’s sides, moving up to the tender area just beneath his ribs. “I’ve got you tied up all cute like this, baby. No running now.”

Sungie squealed, his spider-sense telling him to squirm to the right, then the left, and then the right again, but neither way provided any relief for poor, ticklish Sung. It certainly wasn’t helping that his sense was heightened and made everything that much more ticklish. 

“Look at you, Sungie~” Minho purred, leaning in closer, fingers now dancing across Jisung’s lower side belly, a spot that always made him lose control. 

“So squirmy… so helpless. You love this, don’t you?” Minho’s teasing voice made Jisung blush even harder, his mind whirling as he tried to keep up with the relentless tickling.

“NOHOHOHO!! Nahahahha dohohohon’t!!” Jisung laughed, eyes crinkling in joy just as Minho had an idea.

Moving his fingers to the web design on Sungie’s suit, he traced along the pattern all the way along his chest and sides, pulling the sweeter, frantic giggles as Jisung thrashed side to side to escape the ticklish sensation. 

Jisung threw his head back, a wide, helpless grin taking over his face as he squealed loudly, his laughter filling the silence in the area. “I CAHAHAHAN’T!! YOUHUHURE SO MEHEHEHEAN!!”

Minho only grinned wider, his heart practically bursting with affection as he watched his Sungie fall apart under his fingers. “Going crazy, huh? But I haven’t even gotten to the good spots yet~” Minho teased, his fingers suddenly moving higher, targeting Jisung’s underarms and causing him to shriek in surprise.

“IHIHIT TIHIHICKLES TOO MUHUHUCH!! Plehehehease leehhehet gohohoho!!” Jisung’s voice was tinged with frustration as Minho had him exactly where he wanted him, helpless to his tickling hands. 

Minho kept his fingers exactly where they were, curling around his underarms, moving to a sensitive spot right underneath, opening and closing his fingers in that same, maddening motion that had poor Hannie squealing out, kicking as Minho laughed along with him. 

“MIHIHINHOOOO!! AHAHASTOHOHOHAHAHA!!” Jisung screamed, frustration lacing through his movements as he struggles as hard as he could before giving in, limp against the wall as Minho’s tickling fingers continued to dance along his ticklish skin. 

After what felt like eternity, Minho finally ripped off the web, smiling as Jisung stumbled, his senses fried to the tickling. 

Minho slowed to let Jisung catch his breath, smiling as Sungie melted into his waiting arms, head pressed into his shoulder and wet cheek squished against his neck.  

He gently wrapped his arms around Jisung, his hands circling Han’s tiny waist. 

“You’re so mehehean…” Jisung whined, and Minho laughed gently. “Stay over tonight, baby.”

Minho stirred in the early morning light, soft rain tapping gently against the windowpane, the rhythmic sound lulling him further into a peaceful daze. 

The world outside was wrapped in the gray softness of a rainy day, clouds casting a gentle, cool glow through the bedroom. Minho blinked slowly, his eyes adjusting to the dim light, and as he turned his head, his breath hitched at the sight next to him.

Jisung was fast asleep, curled up against Minho’s side, his soft, steady breaths the only sound in the quiet room. His delicate features were utterly peaceful, lips slightly parted in a tiny, innocent pout as he snuggled closer in his sleep. He looked so small, so fragile, and yet so perfectly content.

Minho's eyes drifted to the shirt Jisung was wearing—his shirt. It was far too big for him, swallowing his tiny frame, with the sleeves hanging loosely past his fingertips. Below, Jisung was wearing shorts that barely peeked out from under the hem of the oversized shirt, making him look even tinier, as if he had tried to hide in Minho’s clothes.

Minho couldn’t help but smile at the sight, his heart swelling as he watched Jisung shift in his sleep. Jisung’s tiny body curled further into Minho, letting out the softest little squeak as he nuzzled his face into Minho’s chest. 

The sound was so innocent, so vulnerable, that it made Minho’s chest ache with affection.

He didn’t want to wake him, didn’t want to disturb the precious serenity of the moment. Jisung, still fast asleep, let out another soft squeak, his brows furrowing slightly as he shifted again, pressing impossibly closer into Minho’s warmth.

He tightened his arm around Jisung’s waist, careful not to wake him, but unable to resist the urge to pull him closer. As Jisung nestled further into his chest with a contented sigh, Minho knew, without a doubt, that he had fallen in love all over again.

He also knew that no matter what, when he was there, his Hannie was always home. 

[blacknpurplewarpster]

Today is an utter shit show and he wants it to be over with.

[girlgerard]

mommm white people on tumblr are misconstruing my posts again despite the post being entirely about how important wording is + how i don’t feel comfortable posting large statements when i haven’t fully processed them yet.

[strangedesired]

Supportive parent Bruce Wayne

Damian showing him all his artwork because he knows that he will get the brightest smile and a “That looks beautiful sweetheart” every time

Dick being so excited to bring his dad to his gymnastics show because he knows that Bruce will start crying every time he lands a trick, without fail, and that means the women that come to watch will have someone else to fuss over

Someone at WE mentioning they don’t trust Tim because of his age and Bruce immediately scheduling a company wide meeting so he can express just how exceptional his son is. Tim’s face is the most red it has ever been the entire time

Cass doesn’t even have to do anything, he is just always looking at her with a fond little smile and on the verge of tears but sometimes, when she wants a little more then normal, she will take one of Jason’s books and read as much as she can aloud. That man absolutely loses it and hugs her as tight as he can while sobbing about how far his baby has come

Jason acts like he could care less about Bruce’s support, but the first time he overhears Bruce talking about him at a gala, telling some rich idiot who was questioning business decisions that Jason is the most competent man he has ever known and would trust him with not only the WE weapons department but his life, Jason pointedly does not look at Dick, who has a shit eating grin on his face, and walks as fast as he can to the bathroom

The best part is that Bruce doesnt even have to try he is just genuinely that proud of them

[sugume]

HELL BENT — RYOMEN SUKUNA

✧･ﾟ The Incubus King finally claims his intended.  

( TW ) f!reader, incubus king!Sukuna, major size difference (Sukuna’s 8ft tall!), harem, group sex, fingering, cunnilingus, biting, rough sex, bleeding, forked tongues, cervix fucking, mating bonds, reader goes in some type of ‘heat’, explicit content. 

word count - > 1.5k

author's note: PLS don’t take this seriously Idek what this is!! unedited + I'm trying a new writing style

Can’t stop thinking about Incubus king!Sukuna who finally finds his intended after centuries of looking. Who finds her in a place he never thought to check, the human realm. Who he kidnaps and brings down to his realm, telling you how you are to be his queen and rule his subjects alongside him. You have a mental breakdown your first week. The change of scenery, coming to terms that this is real, the differences between you and Sukuna’s species he calls Incubus. You’ve heard of them before, but you didn't think they were real—who did? They’re eight feet tall, winged creatures who liked to fuck 24/7. Half of them roam around naked and you can’t turn a hallway without catching two or more in sexual activities. So, hearing that you're some type of ‘mate’ to the king of the creatures? You think you’re dreaming. Sukuna brings you food every day and talks about how the mating bond has been activated now. How the several next week's you’re going to be restless until he ruts and claims you. 

You scream and cry how this is his fault. He leans over the buffet of food and smacks your thigh with a grumble. You refuse to speak to him for the rest of the night even when he undresses and washes you. Making crude comments like how he can’t wait to breed your human body full of his offsprings. Sukana who doesn’t have the time for your refusal to talk to him for he has a kingdom to run, so he drops you off to a group of naked, pierced women who he calls his harem. He gently pushes you into one of the tall women before telling her to take care of you or else.  

You can’t find it in your to be jealous of the women for being his ‘harem.’ You don’t even like Sukuna right now and the women, they’re so kind and mature that you would much rather spend your days lazing around with them than sitting on Sukuna’s lap while he laughs at his people who come to him with misfortunes.  His harem teaches you all about their lands, how sex isn’t taboo instead something they need just like oxygen is to humans. How when they fuck, they release some type of energy that’s built up in their body that causes their kind to go insane and terrorize the human realm.  

Sukuna’s harem who are utterly obsessed with how small you are compared to them. They used to spend their days lying around on rich cushions and blankets waiting for Sukuna but even they got bored of him—if it were up to them, they’d lock him in their room and never let him out. His harem who was supposed to be teaching you more about their king but instead chose to spend their days lazily eating you out with their long-forked tongues and fucking you dumb with their big fingers. They make you suckle their breasts and grind on their faces. They’re so gentle after, hissing at each other when one speaks too loudly after you had fallen asleep, washing your body clean, wrapping you in the softest blankets to carry you back over to your room with Sukuna. Some days they happen to catch Sukuna in his room, and they smirk and giggle when they see his jealous face. They take it as the highest compliment their queen has decided to lie with them before the king.  

Incubus king!Sukuna who feels the mating bond grow stronger with every second you're in his castle. He feels himself shifting. He unable to stay away for long periods of time. He forces you to bathe with him before making you sit on his throne with him while he talks to irrelevant people, his hard cock jumping every time you move. You want to get away, moaning and grumbling how his you want to go play with his harem, it’s uncomfortable sitting on muscular thighs for hours while listening to him talk in several languages you don’t understand to people you don’t know. Sukuna who hisses and grumbles at you before going back to his subjects who kneel at the bottom of his obsidian throne.  

 Throughout the week you can’t help but get hornier and hornier until your unable to walk without liquids dripping down your thighs and wetting your skirts. Despite Sukuna's harem playing with you can’t help but plead and cry for him. You barely know the man but your body aches for him, for his cock, his bond. Sukuna who finally comes to see you one day. Who picks you up to set you up top of the cushions so you can watch him fuck his harem. He does everything he could think to the women, he wants to see what makes you twitch and ache and cry. By the time he’s done—hours later—you’re in a puddle of slick panting and crying how you want him. He doesn’t take you though, he can smell that you aren’t ready for him just yet, and he can’t risk injuring his mate who he’s searched for centuries. He won’t allow himself to bring you any harm, so he just holds you in his lap and makes his harem play with you until you pass out. 

Sukuna whose balls deep in one of his women when he sniffs that air and smells the scent change in you. The women he’s fucking laughs when he yanks himself out of her and goes to you. He picks you up from the drenched cushion you're sitting on. You wrap your arms around his neck and sob and the feeling of his body. You try to wrap your legs around his huge frame but you’re too tired, so they just hang as he walks you back to your room, your thighs rubbing against his cock. Sukuna lays you down on the huge bed before ripping your silky dress and ding his head in between your legs. He brings you to several orgasm, but his mouth and forked tongue isn't what you want. You want his cock. You want him to fuck you pregnant while he bites you and claims you as his. You scream and kick and pull and at the pair of horns on top his head, but he just shushes you before going back to eating you out.  

Sukuna finally deems you ready to take his cock but before he kisses and drags his teeth all over your body. He suckles at your breast, commenting on how you’ll be feeding him with said breasts soon. You cry out when he finally turns you ass up. You don’t even think about how much bigger he is than you, how his cock might not fit inside. Sukuna pushes your head into the blankets, grabbing the base of his cock and rubbing it over your pussy. You scream at him, but he ignores you enjoying the sight of your pussy against his too big cock. When he finally pushes into you scream into the pillow. You scream for more, for him to slow down, for him to breed you, for him to fuck you harder, for him to stop and let you catch a break. He’s too out of it to listen. He never knew what it would feel like to claim a mate but this? If he had any doubt the little human underneath his wasn’t his, he didn’t now. He finally felt whole. He felt your essence flowing into him, making him stronger, more aware, if he concentrated hard enough, he could feel your emotions and hear your thoughts. He fucked your impossibly harder. 

Sukuna leans down and whispers for you to open, and let him in. You don’t understand what he's talking about until his cock shoots some warm liquids and you feel your cervix open. It hurts so good when he pushes deeper into you. You orgasm again before he releases his seed into you. The tension leaves your body at the feeling of his seed rushing to your womb. You’re about to succumb to the sleepiness before Sukuna jolts you awake saying this is just the beginning.  

[renarots]

The ability to evacuate is a privilege and I’m sick of people applying Florida logic to the Appalachians right now. Yes it is horrible for those who couldn’t in Florida but the people in the Appalachian’s had no warning. People still have “dial up” there, 55.9% of the population is under the poverty line. “I’ve been seeing warnings for a week” no you haven’t the warnings were for Florida and Georgia, even then it wasn���t supposed to hit the apps like this at most flooding but they would recover. When hurricane helene took that turn it was too late to even warn others before dams broke. The infrastructure is not meant to take this beating especially given the storm they had the week before causing all of the waterways to be full already. Towns are wiped out, towns that relied on tourism and coal mining to bring in revenue are gone. My great aunt and uncle lived in a trailer off a plot of land and were so happy they finally got a clean running water system hooked up two years ago. They have one tiny little old android that they have to travel about an hour in town to use so they can call us up. They lived off a fixed income because any sort of job was two hours away at least and they’re getting older they can’t just travel that much anymore. My great uncle can’t walk without his cane and my great aunt is getting there too. They always joked about taking me home with them and I would always say when I got older they would come live with me because I knew how rough it was for them but they couldn’t just leave. I haven’t been able to contact them in over 48 hours and the highways leading out after the one hour evacuation notice was given was shut down. Most places are air rescues only because there is no other way for them to be rescued. To add on as well that they deployed FEMA in many of the places affected but yet there is barely any coverage and radio silence from our government. No national guards are here to rescue them they are left to fend for themselves. People are drowning, being electrocuted, some didn’t even stand a chance. These are human beings who have been prayed on for generations the least you can do is show some fucking sympathy. I don’t care what you have to say family’s are being devastated. I wouldn’t wish anything like this to happen to anyone so if you find yourself in your bed at night I hope you know that out there, there are families who are grieving all they have lost and you are cozy at home with running water, electricity and a warm bed and you feel an ounce of guilt for even thinking that.

A link to ways that you can help. Keep Appalachia in your minds do not look away.