#sending this off to the queue and will see it again in two weeks

[emziess]

No, being a firefighter is my life. It is the, the only thing I have ever done that was important and that mattered, okay? 9-1-1, S02E18

[charliemwrites]

Part 5 of Mister(s) Steal Your Girl

Long awaited, but no Johnny smut just yet. Soon, I promise. (And Kyle will be back. It's been so long since he's gotten to smooch our dear reader.)

Also! A little reminder than you can check the queue to see what I plan to post for next. I try to update it often as the worms wiggle. Next I plan to do the final chapter of Greater Bad. (Unless I get my not-so-secret, no-longer-a-surprise oneshot out first)

Lastly! Please note that I wrote the "posts" from his perspective. So inconsistencies with the actual story and any grammar/spelling errors were purposeful or for "authenticity".

Content: Brandon.

r/CakeEater _OnBrand_ I asked my fiancé for an open relationship before marriage. It worked. A while ago I posted on r/adultery about the affairs (yes, multiple) I was having behind my then-gf’s back. We’d already been dating for ~4 years and I was seeing one of my coworkers (my “work wife”) regularly and one of her coworkers on and off. People on my other post were critical and called me all sorts of things like selfish and pig. I know it’s not traditional, but I genuinely don’t think I could ever be satisfied by one woman. My work wife (Rachel) and fiance’s coworker (Lucy) provide things my fiancé just can’t but I still love my fiancé. She’s the woman I’m going to spend the rest of my life with. When I posted on r/adultery I was trying to figure out how to propose without her finding out. I knew she’d expect me to help with stuff and possibly want to look at my phone more often. It would have been harder to sneak off to meet up with Lucy or Rachel with wedding planning and I was sick of being stressed she would find out. Some nicer people on the post suggested I ask for an open relationship. I took their advice and sat her down to sell the idea. It’s a good thing I’m so good at sales (top 3% in my company for 5 years in a row) because she agreed. Yes, actually agreed. At first she got kind of pale and her eyes got really big and blank. I thought for sure she was about to start crying and run off. Maybe even kick me out. She doesn’t really get angry but she gets upset and it freaks me out. After I explained everything about how good it would be for us though, she agreed. This is my official unlimited hallpass. I’ve been seeing Rachel on weekends and Lucy once or twice during the week for drinks. Tonight I’m going to sign up for every dating site I can. Tinder, Bumble, Hinge. If anyone has other suggestions, I’ll check those out too. Fiance has been kind of off but I think it’s just an adjustment period. Sometimes I can tell she’s been crying but she hasn’t come to me about it so she’s probably just being emotional about all the changes. At least she’s got our house to focus on while she gets used to things. I feel a little bad about running out every night but she’s just so mopey and sad all the time and it’s not enjoyable to be around. I know she probably feels like I’m abandoning her a little but once she starts getting back to normal I’ll spend time with her again. You really can have your cake (all the cakes heh) and eat them too. Edit: no, I never told her that I already had Lucy and Rachel and I’m not going to. What good would it do? She’s already agreed to an open relationship and telling her that I didn’t have permission first would just hurt her for no reason.

Kyle’s been gone for two (long, lonely) weeks when he finally gets a chance to call. So far, he’s only been able to send scattered texts at odd hours. Always something sweet – telling you he’s alright, or that he’s thinking of you. Sometimes you even catch him for a brief exchange before he apologizes and “goes dark” again.

Not that you begrudge it. This is part and parcel of dating him and you knew that going in. You’re not complaining when he’s putting his life on the line so that the public can live in blissful peace.

That doesn’t stop you from missing him though. His hugs, his smile. Getting his voice - even roughened by distance - is a nice compromise though.

“How have you been holding up, chickadee?” he asks after the initial reassurance that he’s whole and hale. 

“Easier this time!” you answer proudly. “I know what to expect with you gone and Johnny’s good company.”

“Yeah?” he asks, sounding pleased.

You can just imagine him now, leaning his hip against the nearest surface, arms crossed over his broad chest. He tends to duck his head when he smiles, and you unintentionally grin to yourself, thinking of him hiding into his phone. God, you miss him. 

“Mhmm! We found a board game bar that you’re going to love. Oh, and we’re going to the Hay Festival this weekend.”

He hums. “I’m sorry I can’t be there to take you, luv, but I knew Johnny would be good to you.”

More than good to you, really. There’s not been a day he doesn’t call to check up on you - if he doesn’t see you in person, that is. Dinner, movies, coffee. He’s somehow both a gentleman and an incorrigible flirt, but only with you. He’s nothing more than polite to anyone else, keeping his focus on you and whatever the two of you are doing.

You don’t know what to do with the undivided attention. If you didn’t know better…

“You two are getting close,” Kyle observes.

“I think so,” you admit, then hesitate. “Is… that okay?”

“‘Course, luv. I’m glad.”

You blink. “You are?”

“He’s my best mate and you’re my best girl.”

An odd pang of anxiety pierces your chest. Johnny calls you that too. His “best girl.” You love hearing it - but maybe you shouldn’t?

“It… doesn’t bother you? That we’re spending so much time together.”

He snorts softly, but it’s not derisive. It’s a noise he makes whenever he thinks you’re being silly, but his voice comes out soft and warm. Not an ounce of condescension.

“No, baby, I’m not fussed. You spend your time with whoever you want, however you want. Yeah?”

Your chest floods with warmth. “Okay.”

“There’s a love. I’ve got a brief, so I have to go. I’ll call soon as I can.”

“Be safe, Ky.”

“Do my best. Give Soap a smooch for us, aye?”

You blink as he hangs up. That’s a new one.

You ponder over it while packing on Thursday night. Was it just a joke? A tease at the little crush you’ve developed for Johnny?

Because it is a crush, you know it is. It’s impossible not to be attracted to him. Not with that smile, that laugh, the goofy humor and sweet mannerisms. He still sends you flowers every few weeks - just as the previous ones are about to die. It’s so thoughtful; you’ve started feeling a bit warm every time you look at them.

But you feel greedy, being even remotely interested in anyone else. You have Kyle and Brandon (even if you two are going through a… patch) and that should be enough for you. Shouldn’t it? You’ve never been with more than one person at a time before; it took you weeks to shake the compulsory guilt when you first met Kyle. It feels almost unforgivably audacious to want Johnny too, especially since he’s Kyle’s best mate.

Still… Kyle’s not a jealous or passive-aggressive guy. You’ve been with him long enough now that you know he’d just tell you outright if he was unhappy about something. And he’s been with you long enough that he can surely tell you’re more than a bit fond of Johnny.

Maybe that’s why he made the joke about “smooching” him.

Regardless, you want to talk to him about it. Things always make sense when you think out loud to him. His levelheaded and practical approach to difficult topics always straightens your panic spirals out into neat lines.

Plus, it’s not as comforting to hold your own hand. (God, when is he getting back?)

“Where are you going?”

You blink up at Brandon, folded pajamas in hand.

“The Hay Festival,” you answer.

Speaking of - you slip past him into the bathroom. He doesn’t follow, rooted to the spot spinning his phone around in his hands.

“Alone?”

You snort. “Of course not, I’m going with a friend.”

The allergy pills are at the bottom of the medicine basket beneath the sink. You really need to organize it the next time Johnny’s too busy to hang out. There’s no way you need three bottles of paracetamol. 

“I need that suitcase.”

You toss the bottle in and pivot for the dresser. “What for?”

He shifts, eyes sliding away. “An… overnight.”

Ah. That’s what he’s calling it now?

You snatch a few (too many) pairs of underwear from the dresser.

“Just bring them here,” you say over your shoulder.

There’s a long, tense beat of silence but you’re too busy rummaging for socks to break it first. Will it be too warm for thigh-highs? Eh, you’ll go with the sheer ones; the little lace roses match one of your dresses anyway.

“Bring who here?” Brandon asks slowly.

When you turn, he looks paler than usual. You shrug, trying to project casual comfort.

This is a totally normal and reasonable conversation to have. Just a couple in an open relationship, discussing a stranger coming to the house for a shag. Nothing to make a fuss over.

“Whoever you need the suitcase for? I know you’ve had people over before anyway, and I’ll be gone all weekend.”

He stutters, color returning to his face in bright pink blooms. “Why do you think I’ve had people over before?”

You arch an eyebrow. “I do the laundry, remember? And there was lipstick on one of the wine glasses.”

That had sent you into a tizzy at the time, disgusted that some stranger was in your bed, with your fiancé. You washed the sheets twice on the hottest setting and tossed in a bit of bleach for good measure. Hadn’t been able to look at him the whole week - not that he was there much to not look at.

Now, though, you seem to have adjusted to the idea, even if you’re still not thrilled. Brandon can have his… whoever over, and you’ll goof around with Johnny in Wales.

“Just toss the bedding in the wash afterwards,” you add.

“I thought you do the laundry,” he sniffs.

“I’m not traveling all day just to do chores when I get home,” you answer. He does a double take like you’ve started speaking a new language. “You’ll be here all weekend, I’m sure you’ll have time.”

He opens his mouth, and you can tell already that he’s about to argue - though you don’t really know what about. It’s not like he can’t do laundry or dishes, after all. He lived alone before you moved in together.

Thankfully, his phone distracts him before he can form the words. He spins away to tap at the screen and shuffles out of the room, shoulders till tense. You go back to packing and teasing Johnny about the amount of hair gel he’ll bring.

Friday afternoon can’t come fast enough. Even though you’ve taken a half day from work, the few hours seem to drag. You’re practically daydreaming about the food and drinks, music and activities. There’s a baker’s dozen art stalls you want to check out as well, and a gift to pick out for Kyle…

“Hope yer thinkin’ o’ me when ye make tha’ face.”

Your head snaps around so fast, you nearly give yourself whiplash. Johnny grins down at you in all his casually handsome glory – ripped jeans, green tee, and brown boots. Angels are singing somewhere, you think. Or maybe that’s just your nosy coworkers ogling from their own cubicles.

The reality of him sinks in a moment later and you leap up from your cushy chair – and right into his arms. He’s like a furnace compared to the cool, conditioned air of your office, a welcome source of warmth for your chilly fingers.

“What are you doing here?” you giggle. “Who let a rowdy guy like you in?”

He smells like bergamot and pine. It takes active thought to resist pressing your face into the crook of his neck. It looks cozy there.

As always, he squeezes you a bit tighter just before letting go.

“Hey now, Marcy’s a discerning lady. She knows a fine gentleman when she sees one.”

You snort, belied by the smile curling your lips. “She may need new glass then.”

“Och, don’t go talkin’ poor about my second-best gal now.”

“Is it that easy to get in your good graces?” you scoff, glancing at the time on your computer. It’s later than you expected; no wonder he came up to retrieve you. You spent so long daydreaming that you’ve lost track of time.

“Aw don’ be green, dove, you’re still my number one. Send ye flowers ‘n all.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Yeah, and now I’m wondering just how special that is.”

He stands close, proclaiming his case for how obviously special you are while you shut everything down for the weekend. You’re only half listening to the bit, admittedly. Mostly just basking in your excitement for the mini road trip and the weekend to come. You have no doubt that it’s going to be fun, even if it would be better with Kyle along too.

“Where are you headed off to?” Lucy asks.

“Hay Festival,” you answer shortly.

You’ve never been a big fan of Lucy, but lately she’s been insufferable. Talking over you during meetings, leaving you out of emails, throwing away papers at the printer. (Okay, you haven’t seen her do that last one, but you know.) Worst of all, she can help but make backhanded comments about every flower delivery.

“You’re not taking Brandon?” she simpers. “Something wrong?”

“He’s hanging out with a friend this weekend too,” you correct, “and he doesn’t like hay.”

“Shame that,” Johnny adds, sounding like it’s not a shame at all.

You haven’t told him much about Brandon – but you’re sure that Kyle has. From the face Johnny makes the rare times your fiancé comes up in conversation, he doesn’t think much of Brandon.

“Have fun you two!” your manager, Selene, calls.

You wave and shoot Lucy one last, unimpressed glance before stepping onto the elevator with Johnny.

r/CakeEater _OnBrand_ My fiancé is going on a weekend getaway with another man. I’ve posted in r/adultery and r/cakeeater before. I’m not looking for judgement or insults here. I really just want advice.

A little context: my fiancé and I are in an open relationship and it’s been like this for a few months now. I originally asked her to ope the relationship and for a while she was weird about it but lately she’s been getting sbetter. I thought she was finally getting used to me going out with other women and things were getting back to normal.

A few weeks ago, I noticed she was on her phone more. Like, all the time. Even at dinner when she used to be really picky about phones at the table. One day I came home from work and she was talking on the phone to someone. Giggling and laughing. When I turned the corner she was kind of blushing too. It kind of bothered me but I figured she was talking to a friend and just hot from cooking or something.

Lucy texted me pissed off one day, asking why I was sending my fiancé flowers but not her. I told her I hadn’t sent any flowers. I think they’re way too expensive for how long they realistically last and that they take up a lot of unnecessary space. But I thought it was weird that someone was sending my fiancé flowers and got kind of uncomfortable. That’s a pretty romantic gesture and her family isn’t the type to randomly send flowers either.

I tried taking her out on a date but she was all mopey again and turned her phone to ‘do not disturb’ so I wouldn’t even see if she was texting someone. We don’t have much to talk about now. I love her but she’s not a good storyteller or into very interesting things. All her ‘funny stories’ are just mundane things that happen during the day. We’ve run out of interesting topics about because we’ve been together so long. (That’s why I like having more than one partner.)

Yesterday she randomly started packing for a trip. I don’t even think she was planning to tell me until I asked her. She was packing a bunch of cute clothes too. Like dresses and tights and things like that. Stuff she only used to wear on our dates. I asked who she was going with and she just said ‘a friend’ which is weird because she would usually say the name of someone even if I don’t remember who they are.

Well today Lucy sent me a picture of my fiancé leaving her job with some guy. I couldn’t see his face because he was turned away, but I could see the side of my fiancé’s face and she was smiling at him. I got this awful sinking feeling in my chest like it was hard to breathe. It took me a few minutes to process that she’s going away for a weekend with a complete stranger.

Doesn’t she know how dangerous that is? Where did she even meet this guy? They’ll be gone all weekend so are they sharing a room? A bed? I nearly threw up thinking all these things as I called her.

I asked her to cancel her plans and come home. She seemed confused and reminded me that her plans were with someone else and it would be rude to ditch last minute. I told her I wanted to spend the weekend with her and that I’d been missing her. She seemed surprised and said that she’d see me on Sunday night, but she was looking forward to the festival with her ‘friend’ and wanted to go. As a last ditch effort I asked if her friend was more important than me, nearly begging at that point. She must have heard the desperation in my voice, but she just told me that she was already on the road and it was too late.

My fiancé doesn’t like lying but it’s hard to believe this guy was just a friend. Even if she sees him as a friend I know how men think and I doubt he sees her the same way.

She said some other weird stuff before she left about having someone over while she was gone. I don’t get it. How could she just casually invite someone else into our house like that? Has she had other people over? Is she dating now?

I’m not sure what to do. I don’t like that she put this trip over me. Should I talk to her about how bad this makes me feel? Should I call again and tell her to come home more forcefully? Am I blowing all of this out of proportion?

Edit: she doesn’t know that I’ve been seeing Lucy. I haven’t told my fiancé about any of the women I’ve been seeing. (mostly just Lucy and Rachel. I’ve done a lot of texting through apps and gone on a bunch of first place, but most women don’t put out right away and I usually can’t be bothered to get to know them better). Even then, I wouldn’t tell her about lucy. They don’t get along and never have. It would cause a lot of unnecessary drama.

First | Previous | TBC... Masterlist

[kaiyunsim]

dangerous —

pairing : neighbor!taesan x gn!reader

genre : fluff

summary : what do you do when you get a text from your neighbor in the middle of the night asking to head outside? answer it. who knows what’s to come? no one. but one thing is for sure. it’s not going to be a normal night

a/n : this is the last one guys !! hope u enjoyed 19.99 :)) very fun to write and lots of love to everyone reading <3

queueing : dangerous - boynextdoor, say - keshi, flamin hot lemon - jaehyun, rendez-vouz - baekhyun

[19.99 masterlist]

— wc : 3.8k — not proof read —

you’re brushing your teeth when the first pebble hits the window.

at first, you think it’s nothing. probably just the wind or a tree branch or a cat being annoying again. but then it happens again. a sharper sound this time. too precise. and you freeze with your toothbrush halfway to the sink.

you shuffle to your window and peer out into the dark.

han taesan is standing in your yard.

no. more accurately, han taesan is standing just outside your yard, leaning casually against the fence like he owns the street, like he didn’t just pelt your window with two small rocks. his hoodie is up, shadowing his face, but the flashlight in his hand flicks on and off twice. deliberate. like a signal.

you blink. and then blink again.

because han taesan is the neighbor you’ve always kept a healthy distance from. he’s the reason the neighborhood group chat has three different emergency threads. he’s the kid who climbed onto the school's four-story roof last year just because someone dared him. he’s always getting written up. always being talked about. always loud, always laughing.

but tonight, he’s quiet. tonight, he’s looking directly at you.

you don’t move. he shifts slightly, then pulls something out from behind his back.

a sign. well, it's a napkin, but it works as a sign. he holds it up, and in bold, messy marker it reads:

come with me. just for a bit.

your heart skips.

you’re not the type to sneak out. not the type to say yes to things like this. you’re the “text me when you get there” kind. the “curfew means curfew” kind. your phone is already in your hand, screen glowing with the drafted text you were going to send to your mom about finishing homework and heading to bed early.

you look back out the window. taesan grins and pulls out another napkin where he starts scribbling onto it once again.

you’ll regret it if you don’t.

the grin gets to you more than it should. it’s not cocky. it’s a little hopeful. a little excited. like he’s waiting to share something no one else gets to see. like he picked you.

you sigh. your thumb hovers over the text message. you think about deleting it. you think about shutting the window. you think about how weird tomorrow might feel if you go. and like a ghost possesed you to be different tonight, you delete the draft and throw on a hoodie.

you leave the light on to make it look like you’re still in your room. your heart is pounding in your throat. this is ridiculous. this is so dumb. you’re halfway down the stairs before you even realize you're moving.

you make sure to take out the batteries from the door alarm and open it but the front door creaks. you wince. freeze.

nothing.

you slip outside and shut it again, as slowly and silently as possible. the porch light is off. the night is cold and still and too quiet. every crunch of gravel beneath your sneakers feels like a siren.

taesan is already walking backward, waving you toward the end of the street.

you jog to catch up.

“you actually came,” he says, eyebrows raised.

“you threw rocks at my window,” you whisper back, still out of breath.

“and you came,” he says, like that’s proof of something. “i’m impressed.”

you roll your eyes. “what is this, exactly?”

taesan shrugs, flashing the flashlight briefly at your feet. “just something i want to show you. it’ll be worth it.”

“is this the part where you reveal you’ve been hiding a stolen motorcycle in your garage?”

he grins wider. “nah. that’s next week.”

you laugh before you mean to, and he catches it. his gaze lingers on you for half a second longer than it should. you pretend not to notice.

the neighborhood looks different at night. each house is a sleeping giant. windows glowing softly. no cars. no noise. just the two of you, cutting across sidewalks and hopping fences like fugitives.

“we’re gonna get arrested,” you mutter.

“technically,” he says, “we’re just walking.”

you glance over at him. “most people walk on the sidewalk.”

“most people are boring.”

you duck as a red dot from a camera catches your gaze. taesan hisses a laugh and grabs your wrist, yanking you behind the nearest hedge.

you land too close together, knees bumping, breath tangled.

you don’t say anything. neither does he.

the light eventually shuts off.

“okay,” you whisper, barely audible. “maybe this is kinda fun.”

“told you,” he says. “but it gets better.”

“what is this place, taesan?”

he looks at you, serious for a moment. “it’s where i go when the rest of this place feels too small.”

you stare at him.

he scratches the back of his neck, suddenly sheepish. “that sounded cooler in my head.”

you nod slowly. “nah. it was kind of cool.”

he perks up again. “yeah?”

“don’t push it.”

you keep walking, this time side by side.

the thrill is still there, tingling just beneath your skin, but there’s something warmer now too. a weird quiet comfort in the way your steps sync. in the way taesan hums softly when there’s no conversation. in the way he sometimes looks at you like he can’t believe you’re still here.

“so,” you say after a while, “do you do this often?”

“sneak out? yeah.”

“no, convince innocent bystanders to join your criminal antics?”

“not really,” he says. “you’re kind of a first.”

you glance at him.

he doesn’t look back.

instead, he points ahead to a chain-link fence.

“almost there,” he says.

you don’t know where there is yet, but you know one thing for sure: you’re not turning back.

not yet.

you’re halfway across a playground you didn’t know still existed when taesan suddenly veers left, hopping a low fence like it’s muscle memory.

you follow, breathing harder now, adrenaline buzzing under your skin in a way that makes you feel alive and reckless and a little bit stupid.

“we’re really far from my house,” you say.

“you mean our house,” he corrects, turning around with a crooked grin. “we’re neighbors, remember?”

“yeah,” you mutter. “this feels like the kind of bonding experience that ends with a demon being summoned.”

he laughs, loud and bright in the empty dark. it echoes between the old school buildings as you both duck into a narrow path between chain-link fences.

“you always this dramatic?” he asks.

“you always this mysterious?” you shoot back.

he considers this. “i try not to be. people make assumptions when you stop explaining yourself.”

“so you just stopped explaining?”

“i got tired,” he says, voice quieter now. “and my friends moved away. it’s easier not to miss them if i don’t talk about them.”

you glance at him. there’s something different in the way he walks now. slower. not just because the path narrows, but because he’s remembering.

“this the part where you tell me about your tragic backstory?” you ask, teasing, but softer.

he snorts. “nah. just… there used to be five of us. every friday night. we’d sneak out, go exploring, steal snacks from the convenience store if we were brave enough. we called it ‘operation getaway.’”

you raise a brow. “wow. that’s so dramatic.”

he nudges you with his shoulder. “shut up.”

“i’m just saying,” you grin, “sounds kind of adorable. were you, like, the fearless leader?”

“duh,” he says, then adds quickly, “i mean—no. maybe. i don’t know.”

“taesan,” you drawl. “are you sentimental?”

he stumbles over a crack in the pavement.

“what? no,” he says too fast. “no way.”

“you totally are.”

“i’m not.”

“this is your secret memory lane. you’re taking me to your old hangout spot. you’re sharing stories about your childhood gang—”

“okay shut up, you’re ruining the moment.”

you’re laughing when he shoves you lightly, and he’s laughing too, except it sounds more like relief. like he’s glad you didn’t run at the first sign of something real.

you climb up a slanted dumpster and hop down the other side, landing next to him in a hidden alley you didn’t even know existed. it smells like asphalt and wild mint.

“how do you know all these weird paths?” you ask, brushing your hands on your hoodie.

“been running through them since i was twelve,” he says, glancing around. “they don’t teach this stuff in school.”

you pause, realizing you’ve been walking for a while now, and not once have you felt lost.

“now, where are we going?” you ask.

he smiles. “you’ll see.”

you roll your eyes. “vague. mysterious. definitely suspicious.”

“all the best things are,” he says.

you keep walking, but something changes.

at first it’s small, a flicker in your peripheral vision. a low hum. the kind of noise you don’t notice until it’s been going on for too long.

you glance behind you.

a car. old. paint chipped. headlights off. moving way too slow for a place with no stop signs.

you squint. taesan hasn’t noticed yet. he’s ahead of you, already halfway through a shortcut behind someone’s backyard. but when the car creeps past again, this time from the other side of the block, you speak up.

“hey… that car’s weird.”

he stops mid-step. turns. his eyes scan the street, sharp now, calculating.

“which one?”

you point. it’s gone again.

his jaw tightens. not dramatically. just enough that you notice.

“it’s probably nothing,” he says, voice level. “somebody getting lost.”

but he’s looking around more now. less joking. more alert.

you don’t ask questions. not yet. you just fall in step beside him again, a little closer this time. and when you reach a side street with no streetlights, he reaches out and takes your hand.

just like that.

no big deal.

except your fingers are burning where they touch.

“shortcut,” he says, tugging you into the dark between two buildings. “we’ll cut through here.”

you don’t argue.

your shoes scuff against broken pavement, and his flashlight flicks on, just long enough to catch your footing. it smells like rain and something else, dust maybe. you can hear your own heartbeat louder than your steps.

“you okay?” he asks quietly, still holding your hand.

you nod, even though he’s not looking.

“yeah.”

you’re more than okay. you’re terrified, and excited, and fully aware that you’re wandering through alleys with a boy you barely know but somehow trust anyway.

and then, as you turn the corner, he stops. you almost run into him. he’s staring up at a narrow fire escape tucked between two brick walls.

“this is it,” he says.

you follow his gaze. “what is?”

he grins. “our rooftop,” he says. “c’mon. don’t wimp out on me now.”

you eye the ladder. it looks… less than safe.

“you first,” you mutter.

he’s already climbing.

you wait until he’s halfway up before starting after him, hands trembling with cold and adrenaline.

when you reach the top, breathless and heart pounding, he’s standing there—arms spread like he’s welcoming you into a secret universe.

and what you see takes your breath away.

city lights stretch in every direction. soft, glowing. like someone shook glitter over the world and let it settle in the cracks. the wind brushes your face. it’s quiet up here. peaceful. far away from everything.

“taesan…” you say, voice small.

he glances over. “told you it’d be worth it.”

you don’t realize how hard you’re breathing until your back hits the cool rooftop, and the stars spin a little above your head.

“oh my god,” you gasp, laughing between breaths. “we almost died on that ladder.”

taesan collapses next to you with a dramatic sigh. “worth it.”

you turn your head. he’s grinning again, eyes squinting up at the sky, hoodie bunched at his elbows. you’re close enough that your arms touch, and the heat from his skin is louder than the wind.

“so,” you say after a beat, “this is your big secret spot.”

he hums. “yep.”

“it’s actually kind of... amazing.”

“you sound surprised.”

“well,” you grin, “i was expecting like, a junkyard. or maybe a haunted gas station.”

“jeez, you just hate me i guess,” he deadpans.

you nudge his shoulder. he doesn’t nudge back.

instead, he says, quieter now, “i thought you weren’t gonna come.”

you glance at him.

his eyes are still on the sky, but his voice dips, softer around the edges. “i had the sign ready and everything. would’ve felt dumb just standing down there.”

your chest squeezes. “so you planned that?” you ask, raising a brow.

he side-eyes you. “no.”

“taesan.”

“okay maybe.”

you laugh, and he smiles like he can’t help it. there’s something different about this version of him. less troublemaker, more boy with too much heart and nowhere to put it.

you sit up, the city stretching behind him like a dream, and for a second, just a second, you wonder what would happen if you leaned in.

he’s looking at you.

you’re looking back.

his hand brushes yours, light as static.

you close your eyes, move closer

and then—

“oh hell no.”

you both jolt upright.

from the opposite side of the rooftop, two shadows emerge, both climbing over the edge like it’s their usual entrance.

taesan groans. “you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“bro,” the short one says, stepping into the light, “you knew we were coming tonight.”

“i forgot!”

the second boy, a much taller, with round cheeks and wide eyes, waves cheerfully, like he hasn’t just interrupted the moment of the century.

“hi!” he says brightly, to you. “you’re not part of the usual rooftop squad.”

“not yet,” you mumble.

“don’t be nice,” taesan grumbles, standing. “you just ruined the vibe.”

“you ruined the vibe by being early,” the short one fires back. “we had a whole timing plan!”

taesan sighs like this is a very old argument.

“y/n,” he gestures between them, “this is riwoo, angry, dramatic, and woonhak, baby of the group.”

woonhak beams and does a little wave again.

you can’t help it, you whisper to taesan, “he is the cutest.”

taesan just groans louder. “don’t encourage him.”

woonhak plops down like this is his house and you’re the guest. “you guys bring snacks?”

“do i look unprepared?” taesan mutters, already pulling a bag of chips, two rice cakes, and a bottle of melon soda from his backpack like some kind of urban picnic magician.

riwoo raises his eyebrows. “you brought donuts? for them?”

“shut up,” taesan says, tossing the pack across the rooftop. “you can have half.”

“i want a rice cake,” woonhak chirps.

“you’re lucky you’re cute,” taesan says, handing it over.

you watch all this unfold. three boys on a rooftop at midnight, bickering over snacks and spots on the concrete, and suddenly, the night feels warmer. this is the side of taesan no one gets to see. the one who keeps old traditions alive. the one who remembers to bring enough snacks for everyone. the one who laughs like he means it.

you end up sitting between woonhak and riwoo, passing the soda back and forth as stories start to spill out. ones about rooftops and ruined bikes and the time taesan broke a pipe trying to slide down it like in a movie.

“he landed in someone’s pool,” riwoo says, deadpan.

“i was aiming for it!” taesan insists.

“you broke your arm.”

“yeah, after the pool part. technically still a win.”

you’re laughing too hard to respond. your face hurts from smiling.

taesan glances at you, eyes crinkled. there’s something in his gaze you can’t place, soft and searching, like he’s trying to memorize the sound of your laugh.

you look away, heart thudding louder than before.

somewhere in the distance, a dog barks. a train hums. the city never really sleeps. but for once, it feels like the world’s paused just for you.

you tilt your head back. above, stars scatter across the sky like glitter spilled on black velvet. below, you can see the town, tiny houses, sleepy streets, the faint glow of your porch light still on.

you think about curfews. about rules. about how this night wasn’t supposed to happen. and then you think about how glad you are that it did.

the sky is turning that pale, impossible blue, like someone pressed pause on the night right before it gave up.

you walk slower now, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, the rooftops and alleyways behind you, your house still just out of sight.

it’s not the kind of slow that comes from being tired. it’s the kind of slow that says please don’t end yet.

taesan’s quiet too. not in a bad way. just thoughtful. he kicks a pebble down the sidewalk, his hand close to yours but not quite touching. you want to say something. you don’t know what.

instead, he says, “you ever stay out this late before?”

you shake your head. “never.”

he looks over. “so… i was your first time?”

you scoff, elbowing him. “don’t make it weird.”

he laughs, but it’s soft. tired. fond.

you turn onto your street and the quiet shifts. not peaceful anymore. heavier. because from here, you can see it.

your porch light is on.

and the light inside the living room, off when you left, is now glowing faintly behind the curtains.

your heart drops to your knees.

“shit,” you whisper.

taesan stops next to you. he sees it too.

you both just stand there for a second, frozen like deer in someone else’s headlights.

“okay,” he says finally, breath visible in the morning chill. “don’t freak out. could just be uhh—like, someone got up to pee. lights got left on.”

“yeah,” you say. “totally. because my family just loves wasting electricity.”

you take another step. then another. your yard is a war zone of betrayal. every twig looks louder. every shadow feels like an accusation.

taesan nudges your fingers with his. not quite a hold. just a reminder he’s there.

“don’t worry,” he says, too gently. “if you get caught… i’ll take the blame.”

you blink at him.

“taesan.”

“i mean it.”

“that’s the dumbest thing i’ve ever heard,” you whisper, but you’re smiling. kind of. it’s tight. terrified.

you reach the edge of your driveway and crouch instinctively. like you’re in a spy movie. or about to commit a very boring felony.

taesan follows your lead, ducking behind your mom’s flowerbed.

“okay,” you mutter. “plan?”

“i distract. you sneak in. climb up that janky trellis like you’re in mission impossible. easy.”

“you do realize i’ll owe you for life if this works.”

he shrugs. “worth it.”

you glance toward the house.

the window to your room is slightly cracked open, just like you left it when the nights got too warm. but that means you didn’t close it. which means someone might’ve noticed. might’ve gone to check.

your throat is dry.

“i’ll go first,” you whisper. “if it looks bad… run.”

he frowns.

“i’m serious,” you add. “don’t make this worse than it is. just—run.”

he hesitates. but nods.

you creep across the yard. one foot. then the other. the grass is damp. your hoodie feels too loud. everything is glass and you’re walking with a hammer. you reach the side of the house. make it to the window. fingers wrap around the wood. you glance back—

taesan’s crouched low, watching you. he gives a tiny thumbs-up.

you roll your eyes and start to climb. it’s harder than it looks. the wood creaks. your foot slips once. but you make it, window ledge, fingertips, finally swinging one leg over—

and then it happens.

the creak.

that one stupid floorboard by your desk. you always forget. it always betrays you.

your heart stops.

you freeze, mid-step. barely breathing.

down the hallway, something moves.

a shadow.

a person.

you hiss—“go!”—at the window, barely loud enough, but taesan hears.

he’s already moving. but he doesn’t run. he hesitates. stares up at you one last time. something flickers in his eyes. regret, apology, maybe just goodbye. and then he bolts.

vanishes behind the neighbor’s hedges like he was never there. you’re alone now. and the shadow’s getting closer.

—

the house is too quiet after the storm.

you’re still standing in the hallway when the words settle in the air like dust:

“you’re grounded for a month.”

you don’t argue. you just nod. what would you even say?

the silence that follows is somehow worse. the kind where you can feel someone’s disappointment before they even say it. like static in your bones.

you mumble something like “okay,” something like “goodnight,” and shut your door behind you.

your room is dark except for the bluish light bleeding through the window. you can’t bring yourself to turn on the lamp. the adrenaline’s gone now, but your heart is still racing like it doesn’t know the night’s over.

you’re not even sure what you’re feeling.

regret?

not exactly.

fear?

kind of.

mostly it’s just… him.

taesan.

his hand brushing yours. his laugh on the rooftop. the way he ran when you told him to, but didn’t want to.

you sit on the edge of your bed and realize your fingers are clenched around something.

it’s a note, on another one of those stupid napkins. you forgot he gave it to you, folded into your palm like a secret before you climbed the trellis.

it’s crumpled now, smudged from your grip, but you unfold it anyway.

his handwriting is messy. like him.

“if we get caught, blame me. but if it’s fun, you have to admit i was right.”

you close your eyes. you don’t even hear your phone buzz until the second time. you dive for it.

taesan: did you make it?

you bite your lip. thumbs hover over the screen.

you: define “make it.”

you wait. your heart is loud again.

taesan: define “regret.”

you almost laugh. almost cry. your fingers tremble as you type, curling under the covers like the walls can’t hear you.

you: i don’t.

a pause. then the three dots again.

taesan: knew it.

you roll onto your back and stare at the ceiling. your cheeks hurt from how hard you’re trying not to smile. you don’t know what this is. you just know it matters.

—

it’s past midnight when you hear it.

click.

soft. quiet. outside your window. you pause your music and sit up. it’s nothing. probably. a squirrel. the wind. you peek through the blinds anyway. and there he is.

taesan.

hoodie up. hair messy. standing at the edge of your yard like a dare you forgot to take. he sees you and holds something up.

a napkin.

scribbled in sharpie, crooked but clear:

“worth it?”

you stare at him, press your forehead against the cold glass, and nod.

taesan’s grin splits across his face. cocky. blinding. he doesn’t stay.

just throws you a wink and disappears again. back into the dark, like a secret the night let slip for just a second.

you crawl back into bed and keep the napkin. fold it. press it into your notebook. write the date in the corner.

because later, when you’re older and the world feels a little less magic, you’ll want to remember this:

the rooftop.

the laughter.

the near-kiss.

the sprint through shadows.

the moment your heart cracked open at the worst possible time.

you got caught. but you also chose it. and that kind of feeling?

that’s worth everything.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

tysm for reading :>

series taglist : @somber-reads @saritahwang

bnd taglist : @bxnedo

perm taglist : @s0shroe @minoouz @the0p @mon2sunjinsuver @solkver @lov3lyaaru @tanghuyuj

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just One Reason: When We Met

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Lloyd Hansen

masterlist - to be added

Summary: A chance encounter at the sandwich shop doesn't end how you expect.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

As you approach the sandwich shop, another pedestrian comes up from the other side. You open the door and hold it for them, waiting patiently for them to go first. The place isn’t very busy, you can wait an extra turn to get your food. 

The man barely acknowledges you as he enters. You’re used to that. In the city, manners run down the gutters with the rain and litter.  

You follow him inside. As he stomps to the counter, poking his ear in agitation, you stand back in a single-person queue. You check the chalkboard menu for the soups of the day. Oh, cabbage. They make the best cabbage soup you’ve ever had. 

You bounce on your heels as your gaze wanders over the monochrome wall art over the handcrafted wood tables. You open and close the flap of your crossbody purse. Your father always said you flutter like a hummingbird. Never quiet still and a little skittish. 

Behind the glaze of your distraction, the man’s deep snarl breaks through. You blink and lean to see around him. The cashier bats her lashes and puffs out her cheeks, “sorry sir, we discontinued the Mexican wrap, but the chipotle is similar--” 

“I don’t want the fucking chipotle,” he cups his ear and growls as he pushes his head into his hand.  

“They don’t send us the cilantro lime sauce anymore, sir,” the employee explains. “But I could add some peppers--” 

“Can’t you understand me?” He snips. 

“Erm, if you... if you put a bit of cilantro on, it would be close, wouldn’t it?” You ask, cringing as your thoughts spill out without intention. 

The man glares over his shoulder as his cheek pits derisively. He squints and shakes his head. He throws his arms out and faces the cashier again. “Whatever. Give me the damn chipotle with cilantro. I’m starving.” He reaches back for his wallet, “some fucking week...” he mutters. 

He slides the leather wallet above his pocket but it catches and falls from his grasp. He growls and bends to retrieve it. “Another fucking thing...” 

You watch him pick up his wallet and finger his ear again. It seems to cause him pain. The cashier watches helplessly. You feel bad for both of them. It just seems like a miscommunication. 

“Um, excuse me,” you wave two fingers at the cashier. “Can you add a cabbage soup and I’ll for both?” 

The employee blinks and the man snaps up with a scowl. They both stand in silent surprise. He finally shakes his head. “Why would you do that?” His tone makes it sound like an accusation. 

“I don’t know. Seems like you’re having a bad day and I can?” You shrug and cautiously step forward, “can I also get an iced raspberry tea?” 

“Uhhhh, sure,” the employee keys in the items. 

“Sir, did you want a drink?” You twist back to the man as he stands aside with a leery squint. He just shakes his head. 

“Alright, that’s everything. No cookie today,” you dig in your purse. “Debit, please.” 

She hits total and you pay. The receipt juts out of the machine and you step to the side to wait with one last thanks to the cashier. You tuck your card away and slip your phone out as your hands long to fidget. You know the man is staring, you can feel it, but you don’t want to piss him off even more than he already is. 

The lull that follow is torturous. The man’s wrap is up first and you wait for him to take it. He hesitates and you hand it to him. 

“I hope it’s still good,” you say with a smile at his throat. You’re too scared to look him in the eye. 

“You know I have money,” he grits. 

“Oh, no, that’s not... it isn’t... just a nice thing. Like, maybe one day you can pay it forward. I don’t know,” you rock sheepishly and look behind the counter. 

He nods and backs up. The cashier puts your soup up and your iced tea. You thank her and take your food.  

“Have a good one, sir.” 

You shuffle away to the table in the corner. You sit, self-conscious as the man lingers. Is he mad? You don’t think you were rude. 

The man sighs and goes up to the counter, “hey, look, I’m... sorry,” his words are stiff as if he could choke on them. “Thanks for the wrap.” 

“Oh, uh, okay, sir,” the cashier sounds shocked. “Um, enjoy.” 

You stir the soup and blow away the steam. As you scoop up a spoonful, the man approaches. You look at the velvet toes of his loafers then follow them up. He sits without invitation. 

You stare at him and lower your spoon. 

“Thanks for the wrap,” he says. “I was being a—jerk.” The last word is stunted as if he meant to say something else. “Mind if I eat with you?” 

You look around. The place is empty. You shrug. 

“Sure,” you grab the iced tea and swirl the ice. “Be nice to have company, I guess.” 

He hums and shifts in the chair. He peels away the wrapper and you sip from the straw. You put the cup down and stare into your soup. Your eyes flick up again and you find him staring. 

“Lloyd,” he offers his hand across the table, “but you can just call me that jackass who yells at people.” 

You give your name in return, his change in tone soothing your nerves. 

“You been here before?” He asks. 

“Once in a while,” you say. “When I can afford it. It’s a special treat. They have good soup.” 

He nods and looks down at the wrap, “yeah, food is pretty decent.” He lifts the wrap but doesn’t bite into it. He hovers it before him. “You know, you didn’t have to be nice to me.” 

“You never know what other people are going through. Sometimes, they just need some kindness,” you say. “And if they’re just a butthole, well, you’re not going to change that by matching their energy.” 

His brows arch, and he tilt his head. He sucks in his cheeks thoughtfully, “well, I think I’m just a butthole, as you put it. Thanks for giving me a chance.” 

You don’t know what to say. It’s awkward. You usually eat alone. You don’t have anyone to eat with, not since dad passed. Still, not all change is bad, is it? You’ve already faced the worst kind of change. 

You lean forward and take a bite of your soup. Sometimes making someone’s day easier makes your own a little brighter. As of late, none of them have been more than gloomy. 

[sserpente]

Memories to Enemies 🎃

Synopsis: The TVA is no more—not like it was before, anyway. When the multiverse breaks free, Loki finds himself back where he belongs, on the verge of claiming the throne of Midgard and this time… this time he finishes what he started. But while he’s gained so much, he’s lost even more, for there was one thing the chaos of the timelines had not fixed—it hasn’t brought you back to him. You, the mortal he had refused to fall for until he realised it was too late all along. He never stopped searching for you after Thanos snapped his fingers and now, with so many timelines at the tip of his fingers and a tempad in his pocket… you were out there somewhere and he will find you. But when he finally does… he realises that not only are you the leader of the very rebels aiming to end his ruling, you are a Variant. And you don’t remember him.

A/N: HAPPY HALLOWEEN, people! 🎃 Requests from two anons. There are no spoilers for Season 2 in this. I’ll have some more spooky Halloween Imagines coming up this week (I hope), I just didn’t manage to get any writing done as I had initially planned because I spent the whole weekend queueing at Comic Con, haha!

Words: 2407 Warnings: smut

Additional NSFW warnings: edging, very light dub-con

“The rebels are causing trouble again, my king.”

“Which is to say you are unable to deal with a bunch of disobedient humans?” Loki looked up, legs spread on the makeshift throne in what used to be Stark Tower. He lifted his chin, his menacing glare all but intimidating the former politician, now reduced to nothing more than a lackey.

“N-no, of course not. I just thought you should know. They… they made it to the lower levels of the tower last night.”

Loki narrowed his eyes, leaning forward a little. “Who did?”

“The rebels, their leader… we caught her face on camera but… security managed to overwhelm them. I believe they were trying to plant explosives somewhere in the building.”

“Where are they now?”

“They’re being held in the cellars.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “You should have led with that, you fool. Send them up. No… bring me their leader. I believe it is time we have a little chat about where her… loyalties lie.”

The politician nodded and excused himself. Silence filled the room after he left and Loki sat back again and sighed. Those rebels were hardly a threat to him but if they had made it to the tower… he would have to up his game and patch the holes in his security. A spell or two should suffice. Possibly something that would make any uninvited guest grow mushrooms all over their body should they trespass.

If only… he sighed once more. If only he had you by his side. You had always loved this time of the year, made him hand out sweets for children and carve out pumpkins. After all this madness… he still had not found you again. You had been snapped away in the sacred timeline, so he had found out… and even though the now-forgotten Avengers had reversed the titan’s doing, you remained unfound, out of his reach. Wherever you were… he would tear every single timeline apart until he had you back by his side. Would you be overjoyed, to see him where he belonged? On the throne, ruling as he was meant to be?

“The prisoner, my king.” The politician returned after the metal elevator doors swung open yet again, dragging with him a young woman who carried herself quite regally despite her predicament. She lifted her head, her hair revealing her face…

Loki’s face dropped. It was you. You… you were the rebel foolishly trying to put an end to his reign? Desperation and relief paired with anger and disappointment, the sadness that had been residing deep in his heart after he had lost you not quite going away. Something was off.

“Leave her here. Get out.”

“No security, my king?”

“I can handle a mortal woman. Now get out.”

The politician nodded and left without another word all the while you kept on staring at Loki as if you were ready to plunge a dagger into his chest any moment. You probably were—and it broke his heart a lot more than he would have liked to admit.

Your eyes widened when he spoke your name. “So you already know me then.”

“Know you? I have been looking for you for years, pet.”

You blinked. “Pet?”

Loki’s face fell when he realised. You did not know. You did not recognise him. You did not… love him yet. It mattered little, now did it? He would make you love him again, he would restore your memories. Were you a Variant? Had you met him? Had Thanos’ horrors taken your memories? He had to find out, needed to find out.

“You will not believe me, of course. But you were in love with me. I lost you when Thanos snapped his fingers. My path, too, changed. That is a story for another time. Come here, pet. It is so good to see you,” he purred.

Containing his emotions and his excitement had never been so difficult. He all but longed to jump up from his throne and sweep you up into his arms, holding you close until you struggled to breathe. But he didn’t. He wanted you to come to him. Only you remained frozen in place. He could practically feel the defiance radiating from you.

“I’m not falling for your stupid tricks, Loki.”

The God of Mischief smirked. “Would you like me to prove it, pet? Ah, let’s see… I just so happen to know you love Halloween. Carving out pumpkins… handing out sweets to children… watching scary films and eating this disgusting snack you call popcorn… and of course, how could I forget, the hot chocolate with small marshmallows and whipped cream on top? It’s reserved only for months that have the letter ‘r’ in them, no?”

Loki watched with great satisfaction how your lips parted in shock. He stood, taking a step forward. “What else… ah…” He tilted his head. “There is a particularly sweet and sensitive spot on your body that has you absolutely feral for your lover. It is… right… here.” He took another step and brought his hand up to brush his thumb over the spot right below your ear. You shivered, clenching your jaw.

“Lies… y-you’re… you’re tricking me.”

“No tricks,” he purred, “only treats.”

To Hel with the restraint. With a low growl, Loki pulled you close, lifting you off your feet. Your rather pathetic resistance died quickly once you realised that you weren’t going anywhere. Loki was too strong—you’d do well to save your strength for when it truly mattered. But… did you want to?

Why, on Earth, was there a part of you that enjoyed his touch? The way he looked at you… so full of hope and lust… that could not be acted, could it? To win over the leader of the rebellion, make her compliant… was that his plan? Or was he telling the truth?

And if he was, then what would have ridden you to dedicate your life to stopping him at all cost? Heavens, last night, you had attempted an assassination.

Loki put you back down on your feet once you reached his bedroom. He had redecorated, of course. Everything was green and gold, even his bed sheets. It looked… beautiful. Homely, almost and faintly familiar.

A shiver brought you back from the depths of your mind when Loki sneaked his hand under your shirt, slowly pushing it up.

“Do you truly think it’s a coincidence you react this way to me?” He tilted his head, smirking when you flinched at his fingertips ghosting over your bare stomach. He was right. He was so right and you hated it. Part of you wanted him—right here and now. The other part was seething and then, yet another… wanted to give in to his advances out of curiosity.

“Why… why don’t I remember then?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, pet. We will restore your memories. You could be a Variant—a version of yourself from another timeline who has not yet met me. We will worry about this later. I missed you.”

He sounded so… genuine, so full of relief. It was not hard to believe him. But how could you? You hated this man, you loathed how he had taken Earth for himself and declared himself its ruler… you would never kneel before him… right?

Why were you questioning yourself? Perhaps… perhaps it was for when you gazed into his blue eyes, you detected just how troubled his soul was. There was more to this than tyranny. More than a hunger for power.

You ceased to resist when he pulled your shirt off of you. Mesmerised, dazed… perhaps even charmed, you lifted your arms for him to remove it and then allowed him to make short work of your trousers. Only a few more moments passed until you stood completely naked before him, breathing heavily.

His kiss was soft when he held your chin with two fingers, almost as if testing the waters. Your eyes… your eyes fell shut. Why… how did this feel so good?

“Give in to me, pet. Let me show you.”

You bit your lower lip. “I’m supposed to hate you.”

He chuckled. “Why yes… We can speak about your little rebellion after I have had my fill of you. You always longed to be by my side, pet. What changed?”

“I don’t know you.” And perhaps that was the reason. You did not know him. Did not yet see behind the mask. Would things be different if you did? You could have tried to kill him the very moment you stepped out of the elevator. So why hadn’t you? Would you, under different circumstances, support his cause? Aid in his rule? Rule… by his side? That was such a silly thought, wasn’t it?

And yet… even though the arrogant god kept calling you his pet… the way he looked at you made you feel like he regarded you as his equal. Maybe your subconscious knew that there was more to it. Maybe your soul had recognised him.

“Then I will make you know me again. You, my darling, are the one good thing that has ever happened to me. I will not give you up.”

You swallowed, unsure of whether you should regret the words that left your lips next. “S-show me.”

“With pleasure.” Loki smirked, lifting you up once more. The warm leather of his armour against your naked skin made you whimper but it was gone within a heartbeat, melted off his body in a green hue of his magic. It felt tingly, familiar… as if you’d felt it a million times before.

The God of Mischief crawled above you, spreading your legs as he did. Skin against skin, he towered above you like the king he was, his raven hair framing his handsome face. You resisted the urge to reach up and stroke his cheek—just about, for when he leaned down and assaulted your neck with his lips, you dug your nails into the soft bed sheets instead, fighting, desperately, for composure your body was eager to give up.

Every touch, every kiss… it felt right. And you were craving more.

A gasp escaped your lips when Loki sank his length into you with but one deep stroke—it was both out of pure bliss at his size and surprise at how wet you were. How had him undressing you slowly done that?

Deep and languid thrusts soon drove you to the brink of madness. No one… no one had ever fucked you as well as Loki was fucking you right now, and the fact that he seemed to know exactly what turned you on almost filled you with fear.

The intense eye contact, the gentle touches, the soft dominance radiating from him… without a doubt he would pin you against the bed if you so much as attempted to flip around and ride him instead without… without asking for permission?

You whimpered at the thought, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You were close already. Loki was working his magic… firm and yet gentle, you felt it teasing your clit, applying just enough pressure to bring you closer and closer to climax. Once he had you there, right on the edge, the delicious pressure eased, his rhythm speeding up.

“You’re enjoying it…” Loki purred—his tone smug, if anything. You groaned.

And then, once again… he pushed you toward that blissful cliff only to stop—again—right before you could fall. You realised soon enough what he was doing. He was edging you. No one… no one knew about your filthiest desires and kinks. So how did he? He really was telling the truth, wasn’t he?

You pretended to hate this but you loved it… loved how he was in control of your pleasure, able to take it away if he so wished… urgh.

“What is it, pet, hmm? Did you want something?” His strokes were relentless—how he managed not to rut into you like a beast you had no fucking clue.

“P-please…” you choked out, “…let me cum.”

Loki tilted his head. “I think you can do better than that.”

Another grunt on your end but this time, you were ready to throw hands—only the God of Mischief above you didn’t let you. The invisible force tormenting your clit wrapped around your wrists like invisible shackles, holding them in place.

“Please…” you repeated, “…I need to cum. Stop… teasing me…”

“Let me hear it one more time, pet. Scream for me.”

A groan of frustration escaped your lips. All helpless beneath him, there was nothing you could do but endure his torturing treatment. Your toes curled, that all too familiar knot in your lower stomach tightening…

“Oh, fuck, please, please, PLEASE! Just… LET ME CUM ALREADY!” Loki chuckled—he chuckled and then, finally, the delicious pressure on your clit returned. And this time… it didn’t stop again. You tensed up, all air knocked from your lungs as your orgasm washed over you. Contracting around Loki’s cock who did not stop rocking into you for a second, fucking you right through your moment of utter bliss until he too, came.

Loki’s moans were quite possibly the sexiest thing you had ever heard as he buried himself inside of you as deep as he could, coating your walls with his seed, twitching and jerking.

He rested his forehead against yours then, eyes closed—content, at ease… and so unlike what you had expected from a tyrannical ruler.

This… it had felt like your bodies were made for each other. Perhaps they were.

“I want to remember. I want you to prove to me that you’re not the evil tyrant I imagine you to be,” you said, breaking the silence.

Loki chuckled. “Hmm… ever so demanding, pet.”

“Why are you calling me that?”

“Because it turns you feral, am I not right?”

You bit your lower lip. Yes, damn it, he was right.

“We will find a way to restore your memories, I swear it. You are mine.” You shivered when he spoke your name. “You are the very reason I am not a tyrant. Whatever you see, whatever you believe… Midgard is in good hands—it is your home realm, after all.”

“So I’ll just have to trust your word? The word of a Trickster?”

Loki smirked. He knew. He knew that your heart already did.

"Yes. Now then... shall we carve a pumpkin together, pet?"

A/N: Party hard tonight! 🎃

[shuahoonie]

solace | joshua hong

pairing: non-idol!joshua (svt) x fem!reader

notes: slice of life, fluff, bit of swearing, pet names ft. seventeen, domestic lyf , the one where reader isn’t aware that their definition of comfort is joshua hong— really just self-indulgent because i’ve had a rough week at work.

word count: 2.8k

summary: joshua hong, no matter how busy life can get, will always set aside time for you. no matter where you two both are, what time it was— comfort exists in the mould of him.

joshua hong is solace, personified.

playlist | shuahoonie masterlist

-

life hasn’t been extremely kind to you. first week in your new job and it has already made your life a living hell.

“i mean it’s only been a week,” you said over the phone, trying to appease yourself that maybe it’s just a bad day “maybe it’s just something that i need to get used to.”

you literally just clocked off work when joshua sent you a message, asking how your day was. always like an angel, always in perfect timing.

work was starting to get frustrating and you considered quitting too, but talking to joshua made it bearable for you.

he would send you messages in the morning, would try calling you during your lunch breaks. and if he has time, he would try to visit your place or he would ask you to come over to his.

and when you replied to his text with a sole sad smiley face, he immediately called you.

never in your life would you have expected for shua to be so patient when it came to you, even more so to the people he deeply cared about.

“i don’t know, love,” there are noises on the other side of his line “you’ve been having trouble sleeping.”

“is that yn? tell yn i miss her!” you can hear jeonghan yell on the other line, making you laugh.

“no, tell her yourself!” joshua whines childishly on the other line “it’s my time to be on the phone with her.”

“it’s always your time on the phone with her!” jeonghan whines back. there were a couple of indiscernible words before you heard the phone being passed. “yn!” jeonghan manages to steal the phone from joshua “i miss you! you don’t visit us anymore.”

“had a tough week, bub.” you say softly “i’ll make sure to visit when i have time.”

“how come joshua always gets to see you?” you could feel that han was pouting. “even when we have meetings that run late…” he mutters the latter part but you caught it loud and clear.

“he’s always checking up on me, han,” you whispered all of a sudden, feeling shy. “i actually don’t know how he does it.”

“i know how,” jeonghan says in a teasing manner before you heard the phone being snatched again.

“lovey,” joshua coos “do you want me to call you as soon as you get home?”

“you’ve been really fond of that nickname, huh,” you teased shua, but you could feel yourself turning red.

“only because we’re each other’s lovey,” he murmurs over the phone. “but do you?”

“it’s okay, lovey,” you said, fighting back a smile as you entered the busy subway. “i’m on the train now, i’ll talk to you later.”

“okay, text me when you get home,” joshua says on the other line. “love you.”

you hummed and said “love you too” softly before hanging up.

the train ride home was enough to make you feel numb— maybe it was the exhaustion or maybe it was a bustling friday night. whatever it was, it’s enough for you to forget about the resentment you felt from your job.

with your airpods in, you endured the ride home listening to the curated playlist that you and joshua curated.

you were aware of how your music taste differed from each other— so when home by one direction played, you were a little startled. it’s almost as if you accidentally added the song on the queue.

a small smile was practically tattooed on your face when you saw that it was joshua who added the song to the playlist.

you must’ve done something good in your past life because you can’t possibly think of a reason for you to have joshua hong in this life.

“love you?” jeonghan teases joshua, making him roll his eyes. “what’s the deal with you and yn again?”

“we’re friends, han,” joshua says as he walks over to the other side of jeonghan’s place to grab his water bottle that he left on the kitchen counter.

jeonghan has been friends with joshua for years— he knows when joshua’s trying to avoid something.

“yeah, i know,” jeonghan says following joshua “i mean i’m friends with yn too, but i don’t text nor call her every day.”

“maybe because you just suck at using your phone,” joshua teased han, hoping that his friend would drop the conversation.

“says the guy that barely responds the group chat and has over 500 unread messages?” jeonghan shots back, amused at shua’s insinuation. “face it, shua, ynnie is—“

“she’s special,” shua finishes. “everything just feels lighter around her, you know.”

“ahuh,” jeonghan agrees in a low hum, watching joshua’s expression turn bright as he receives a text update from you. jeonghan knew what joshua felt about you, he’s just unsure if his friend knew it himself. “i know.”

you and joshua have been friends for a little while now— and your friendship with him had stood the test of time. it seemed like it was too good to be true, because he came to your life when everything felt hazy.

you moved to a new place all by yourself, not knowing anyone, trying not to cry as you dropped a piece of kimbap on the convenience store floor— then comes joshua, who happens to be at the very same convenience store and saw how you stared at the piece of kimbap on the floor for a while.

that night at the convenience store, what you needed was a friend or kimbap.

joshua, who was supposed to only buy a quick snack, unconsciously chose to sit and eat at the convenience store instead.

he sat a few chairs away from you, eating his ramen quietly while he watched you pick clean up the mess you made.

after you finished cleaning up— and quietly cursing the universe as today wasn’t going well— you sat back down, fighting back the tears from your eyes and continued to eat your lukewarm ramen.

joshua heard your quiet sniffles while you were eating. he didn’t want to be invasive and ask you if you were okay, but he could sense that you were having a rough day.

joshua has always had a knack when it comes to people— he would always get a sense of what they’re feeling.

he quietly slides you the extra kimbap that he bought for later and says, “i accidentally bought an extra one and i’ll probably forget about it in my fridge if i take it home.” a lie, of course.

as soon as your gaze reaches his, you bursted out crying— which definitely caught shua by surprise.

not knowing exactly what to do, he sat next to you and carefully patted your back every now and then.

“sorry,” you said in between tears, letting out an embarrassed laugh. “i don’t know what came over me.”

“hey, it’s okay,” joshua says comfortingly “you’re okay.”

you hurriedly wiped your tears with your hands, however, it seemed that your tears aren’t quite done yet.

“oh god, this is so embarrassing,” you said, tilting your head back— fanning yourself as you tried to stop yourself from crying. “it’s just a really rough day.”

“it’s okay, you’re safe here,” he gives you a reassuring smile “sometimes, we just really need to let it all out for everything to start making sense again.”

that night at the convenience store, what you needed was a friend or kimbap— the universe gave you both.

as soon as you got off the train station, a familiar physique was leaning against one of the pillars— arms crossed with a bright smile plastered on their face.

“what are you doing here?” you asked, surprised to see him at the station. “weren’t you supposed to be on a date?”

“we see each other at the office everyday,” he scoffed, easily grabbing your tote bag and casually puts on his shoulder. he’s so used to doing it, it’s feasible at this point. “and it’s just with jeonghan. he can live without me, so i left.”

“so, are you saying that i can’t live without you?” you raised an eyebrow at him and he laughs, almost pleased that of your insinuation.

“maybeee,” he practically sings. “c’mon, do you wanna get something to eat?”

“i thought you and jeonghan already ate?” you asked him, linking your arm with his.

“we had snacks,” joshua answers “what do you want to do, love? do you want to eat out or should we just get take out and eat at yours?”

“my place?!” you gasped “i thought we were going to your apartment this time?”

“you have a comfier couch,” joshua mumbles as he pulls away from your linked arms, quietly slipping his fingers in between yours instead. you can’t deny that physical touch brings you comfort— rather, joshua brings you comfort.

“then why did you get that ugly ass white couch then?”

“it’s cute and you know it,” joshua pouts “plus it works well with my living room interior.”

“babe, it’s solid as a rock.”

“so if we ever move in together, you’d force me to throw it out?!”

you practically choked on his statement. “move in?! who said anything about moving in?”

“i think it’s bound to happen anyway,” joshua says casually. “didn’t we make a pact when we were 23?”

“i thought that was just the alcohol talking,” you said quietly, feeling shy all of a sudden.

“i meant every word i said,” joshua smiles at you— the kind that makes your heart beat a little faster, the kind that makes your insides melt. “but i’m also more than happy to yield, if you’re retracting your statement.”

“if we’re 30, and have not found any significant others, should we just get married?” you asked shua after finishing your second bottle of soju.

“i thought you don’t believe in marriages,” shua teases, resting his chin on his dominant hand. his eyes were sparkling in anticipation.

“i don’t,” you smiled at him “but if it’s with you, what’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“okay,” joshua says softly “as long as you’re okay with it, then i’m happy to spend the rest of my life with you.”

you smiled upon hearing what joshua said. “yeah, you’re not getting rid of me that easily, joshua hong.”

“great because i’ve already pictured the perfect proposal.”

you and joshua were quietly eating dinner back at your place— sitting on the living room floor, backs pressed against the couch, with modern family playing in the background.

shua was watching you the whole time as you ate your tteokbokki with a mindless look on your face. he knew that you were checked out and he felt bad that nothing could lift up your spirits.

you were painfully exhausted that you can’t even enjoy your comfort food with your comfort show.

you caught joshua staring at you as you nibbled rice cake slowly. “what?”

“do you want to talk about it?” he asks you softly.

“talk about what?” you feigned innocence. to be fair, you weren’t in the mood to talk about work and the last thing you want was to pester shua with your work rants too.

“c’mon, yn,” he pats the space between you two, urging you to sit closer to him. “you know you can tell me anything, right?”

“mhm,” you hummed as you placed your chopsticks down and snuggled closer to shua— your head resting on the crook of his neck. “i’m just tired,” you say quietly.

“i know, my love,” he whispers, knowing that you weren’t just physically tired. shua knew that your new job was taking everything from you and you didn’t want to make it seem like it is. “i wish there’s something that i can do to make you feel better.”

you lifted your head to turn towards shua. “you’re already doing great, bub,” you said with a fond smile. “having you here with me is enough,” you hummed.

joshua returned the smile, pulling you closer to him— if it was even possible. you two sat in silence, tucked under shua’s embrace.

you’ve always found comfort within joshua hong. when people ask you what he is in your life, you would smile and tell them that he’s your comfort person.

“so, like the love of your life?” ichan asks with a confused look, not really understanding your answer.

“sure, something like that.”

“are you two dating then?” he asks as you two wait for your work computer to finish updating.

“nope.”

“but he’s always at your beck and call?” he clarifies and you nodded. “god, you two are confusing.” chan mutters, leaning back at the office chair.

you laughed. “babe, you’re just saying that because you haven’t met the person who makes you feel comfortable.”

chan playfully scoffs at your comment and says “well, i’m sorry if i haven’t met my soulmate at a convenience store.”

soulmates. maybe joshua hong is your soulmate.

“shuji,” you called his name softly, resting your chin on top of his shoulder.

“hm?” joshua hums as it prompts him to turn his head and look at you— the distance between your faces were unbearably close. “you know i hate that nickname right?”

“i know,” you answered, not moving from your position. “but you still let me call you that.” your chin planted on his shoulder as you practically bit every word that came out of your mouth.

joshua laughs because you’re right. he hates it when people call him that and yet, he doesn’t mind when you do it.

joshua’s attention was back to the tv, watching the modern family episode when mitch and cam got married.

you removed yourself from joshua’s embrace—propping your elbow on the table and resting your head against your hand. you couldn’t help but watch joshua— having him here next you was nothing new but you still can’t believe that someone like him would be so patient around you.

there’s definitely a sense of selfishness that boils inside you. you want joshua to stay in your life forever, but that’s not possible. especially if he finds a significant other.

“yn,” shua calls your name softly, eyes still glued at the tv. “is my face really that great to look at?” he asked teasingly. you scoffed, playfully rolling your eyes. “because ahjumma gave me extra fishcakes because of that.”

“and i thank you because of that,” you grinned.

joshua turns to you, mirroring your position as he props his elbow on the table and rests his head against his hand as well.

“what’s bothering you, my lovey?” shua asks as he tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“do you love me?” you asked joshua. a bold move on your part— but you only did it because he can either spin it as something strictly platonic or it can become something more.

he wasn’t even caught off-guard. instead, he smiles at your question— as if it was just a normal and casual thing to ask. “i do,” joshua answers because it’s true. “i think i love you a little too much.”

“how much?”

“like i would let you run the ac on full blast,” joshua mutters with a smile on his face, playing with the ends of your hair.

you let out a small gasp, “really?”

“really.”

“but you hate getting cold,” you pointed out.

“yeah, but you love the cold— like right now, it’s freezing here,” joshua laughs as he pulls the sleeves of his hoodie further.

“shit, i didn’t even notice—“ you were about to stand up to turn down the ac but shua pulls you back down.

“it’s okay,” he says softly, “c’mere." joshua pulls you closer to him, similar to the position you were in earlier. this time though, you're sitting between his legs— your back against his chest, his arms wrapped around you.

“shua, let me turn the ac down,” you said, trying to get up but he tightens his arms around you— briefly forgetting how big shua’s arms has gotten.

“no,” he whines childishly “just stay here with me,” he mumbles in your ear. “you’re very warm.”

“i think that’s why i feel hot all the time,” you said nestling in his arms.

“yeah,” joshua chuckles “but i also think you’re a very warm person, ynnie.”

“hm?”

“yeah, i mean you make every room brighter, ynnie. you make everything feel as if you’re the calm in this chaotic world. if i could keep you by my side at all times, i’d do it.”

you rolled your eyes playfully “now, you’re just making fun of me.”

“i’m not,” joshua rests his chin on the top of your head “why do you think jeonghan and seungkwannie kept asking for you?”

“i think it’s because i feed them,” you joked, making joshua snort.

“trust me yn, if i can keep you all to myself, i would.”

“so why don’t you?”

hi hi friends! i know i've been mia, but ya gurl is working 2 jobs now 🥲 as much as i would love to write frequently, i end up only writing a couple of words here and there— and that's when i'm not immediately passed out. i hope u all understand! ♡

[lutual-incidentals]

Hello and Welcome!

If you’re here, you’ve probably seen it interacting with some of the lutual blogs and assume that this is another RP blog.

You’re both right and wrong! This blog is an RP blog, but not in the same sense as most.

This blog does not have a set character or characters associated with it, instead it takes the role of any background characters needed to tell our stories. We can’t have a blog for every character ever, its just not possible (despite how some of our group might try /j). Our solution was to build an account to play some of those characters that wont be seen often. Maybe a quickly defeated villain, a character whose presence is important but doesn’t have much of importance outside of an interaction or two, or just a fun little one off side character.

The characters can be played by ANY of the Lutuals. All of us have access to it.

At the time of writing this, we do not have asks on for this account. The Lutual Statements are still listed in full below, please read them before interacting with any of our accounts.

Lutual Statement

After a pretty rough week with a lot going on, the Lutuals have decided that moving forward we will be a bit more selective regarding certain things. We love sharing our characters and developing new and interesting storylines for people to read and interact with and want to continue doing so while protecting ourselves and our mental health. Please see below on the things we expect moving forward.

Asks, anon or not, will be deleted on sight and the sender blocked if they fall into any of the following categories:

NSFW - finding the characters hot is fine! Telling the mods what you want to do to those characters sexually is not!

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Hate Speech - the Lutualverse is a fun spinoff of the Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss settings and isn't the place for social or political commentary. We're just here for the various shades of queer relationships; if you're not, kindly move along.

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To better form a cohesive, consistent universe with multiple storylines, the current Lutualverse is a set roster you can find here, all of whom have been vetted as 18+. As the blogs, storylines, and shows are 18+, it is recommended that minors do not interact. We are not accepting applications at this time to join the Lutualverse, though individual mods may respond to starters at their discretion; these events will not be canon to the universe.

It has also come to our attention that some blogs are claiming to be part of the Lutualverse despite not being official members.

While we appreciate that people enjoy our work, we DO NOT appreciate being impersonated or having unaffiliated members claiming to be part of our canon.

At the time of writing, the ONLY Lutuals are as follows:

@joy-eris-joy

@able-juice

@silvireal

@texanredrose

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Any new blogs or members will be announced by ONE OF US and will be LISTED on the Lutuals roster.

Any unaffiliated users claiming to be part of our verse WILL BE BLOCKED.

Again, we would like to stress that we enjoy the interaction and support. This is to protect us and better craft compelling stories. Thank you for your understanding.

-The Lutuals

[pettyrevenge-base]

Sit there laughing at me at the petrol station? I’ll inconvenience you even more.

This was a few years ago, I pulled into my local petrol station, all the pumps were in use, so I pulled up behind one of the pumps waiting for the van using it to finish and move off. After quite a few mins, the driver casually strolled out of the shop in no hurry, despite the queue at the busy forecourt and walked to his van. He could see that I and several other vehicles were queuing to use the pumps. The van driver in the pump next to him was obviously a friend. That driver finished up and the two of them stood and had a chat. They were aware of us waiting and were clearly loving the fact that they were holding us all up, even turning to laugh arrogantly at the guy waiting next to me who called to them to move away from the pumps. This went on for 5 mins more until they got bored of their silly game and drove off.

The moron was a plasterer and had his name and phone number written all over his van, plying his trade. Oh boy. I’m petty, and made a note of his details.

A few weeks later, I called him up and said I’d bought a house in need of renovation and needed a quote to board out and skim the entire house.. oh he was only too happy to quote for a big project, assuring me he was great at his trade and I could not find a better quote. We discussed his availability and he was keen to come and look at the job. I gave him the address of a run down house a few streets away from me that had recently sold at auction, he knew the property, he had driven past it a few times and noticed it was up for auction. We arranged for him to call the following day. Of course, I wasn’t there!! He rang a few times and left a voicemail checking where I was. Eventually, I called him back, very apologetic, said my husband had fallen off a ladder and I had to take him to A&E. He said ok, I’ll re-arrange the visit. We arranged another time a few days later. The next appointment came and I had two more messages from him clearly annoyed I wasn’t there again. I called him back again and apologised, I said I could totally understand his anger and wasted time. It reminded me of the time I was sat at a petrol station a few weeks ago and some idiot and his mate stood having a good ole chat whilst laughing at the drivers waiting to use the pumps. I heard the penny drop! That was when the raging and swearing started, which just set me off roaring with laughter. I made my point, it was fabulous. I spent the next few weeks blocking various numbers sending abusive texts, but he got bored of that eventually. I hope he learned that actions have consequences!

Source: reddit.com/r/pettyrevenge

[http-drabbles]

soulmate, soulmate where are you? 2

1.3k words of absolute crushing angst, it's 7am and i woke up to write. shall i be evil and let this be the final part? mayhaps.

warnings: s/h and making jungkook sad (:W)

fuck fuck fuck.

skimming every question and typing out my answer feels a lot like betrayal. name, age, country of residence, when my soulmate mark appeared, contact details, translator needed, agreeing to a declaration that if my soulmate mark was found to be fraudulent i could face a fine or jail time. i tick the box by his name, attach a photo of my mark and send the form off. the confirmation email is too cheery it makes my jaw ache at how i grind my teeth.

i don't want to talk about the circumstances that lead me to fill out that form, to apply for a loan that covers travel cost and a hotel for this. the woman who helped me fill out the form was again all too cheery, wishing me a good luck and all i could do was smile so fucking limply back at her while noticing lipstick smudged against her teeth.

a month passes and i'm gleeful, maybe it's a network error and my form never submitted. i'm free and can tell the loan company to cancel my plan, i don't go on social media to see what jungkook is up to and in those weeks the nightmare is over and i embrace my loneliness.

the email arrives at 16:21. heathrow to seoul, a contact at hybe will meet me at the airport. id needed. date of when i'm expected to actually meet jungkook, with a disclaimer that it may change due to fluctuating schedule. the tiger lily tingles, and i almost see the petals opening ready to accept him.

"don't get your hopes up, i can always email them back to get out of this."

i don't. of course i don't because i'm standing in a Costa in London Fucking Heathrow next to the hybe contact who is analysing their croissants like it's the key to end all misery. i wished i could look at croissants with that much intensity.

she asked once to see my soulmate mark, gave it a one second glance over and then typed something down in her phone, i wondered how many people she's flown with to Korea. more than ten i would bet. i don't ask, i'm not conversational but when we're waiting in the queue holding out boarding passes i blurt to her.

"i haven't flown before. i've got a fear of it i think."

she passes me a sleeping tablet and i bump her number from ten to a solid fifteen.

korea is pretty, face practically smushed against the taxi window i take in every single detail i can. there's an over-abundance of signs, low hanging wires and roads so tiny it's a miracle a car can pass through them. i don't take photos, i rely on my brain to remember and then forget.

hybe is anything but pretty, more like a grey lump of concrete and glass. i sign two more documents and the translator informs me that in two days time i will be meeting jungkook, but not officially meeting. more like my arm will be stuck through a gap and our soulmate marks will touch, i will have to wear a mitt because some people had become a little too excited and scratchy. my mark is thoroughly inspected this time, deemed official and not a tattoo i'm driven over to my hotel.

i don't unpack, staring at the forms in my hand which are a mix of korean and english i almost laugh. traitor. stupid traitor.

over the next two days i come to two big conclusions, one kimchi is too sour but the rice cakes should be considered a universal delicacy and two, is it too late to back out?

is it too late to back out? i'm in the taxi, i consider clawing the windows for escape but i decide that digging my fingers into my belly helps ease my nerves. can i back out? hybe is cold, the ac is too strong and there's other girls in the room i'm lead into. shy smiles as i plop myself in the back. we are called alphabetically. is it possible to back out? there's four of us left now, i didn't bother counting us as a whole. i can't stop digging my nails into my stomach.

i can't back out. my name is called and somehow my body removes the hand from my belly and i walk myself over to the room. there's a row of grey screen partitions that divide the room, a small slither in the middle presumably where my arm will go. it hits me jungkook is on the other side and i bite my bottom lip hard to avoid laughing. tugging my sleeve up a staff member puts the mitt on securely, another verbal warning to not do anything harmful to the artist.

artist and not his name.

i sit down on the chair, staring into that small space to catch a sight of him but there's nothing. i don't mind a fine, or jail time. i hope it's not real. deliberately slowly i raise my arm, putting it through the gap with my tiger lily facing upwards. the air shifts around my arm and i feel him. warm as his tiger lily presses against mine.

at first nothing, and i almost let out the loudest sigh of relief and then it is everything. in the mitt my fingers jerk, i pull away like i've been electrocuted clutching my arm but it's energy, pure energy. thrum. drum. drum.

he's tearing the partitions apart and i stagger back, nearly falling over the chair to get away from him. frantic korean, something more reassuring from a staff member and then he pokes his head through. beaming smile, he's so happy to see me and i guess i'm somewhere between absolutely mortified and in complete shock. his sleeve is rolled up and i notice his tiger lily has fully blossomed, a quick glance down at mine and i realise mine is the same.

he speaks again, approaching me like he wants to hug me but seeing that i'm backing away like a rabid animal he slows, contains himself and glances at the translator and back at me.

"hello. i'm jungkook. it's nice to meet you finally." oh god. too much. he's too kind and his cologne has infiltrated my nostrils and i'm so glad the mitt is still on because i'd be clawing at my nose to stop smelling it.

"s-sorry.. can't." i give the staff member who brought me in here the universal look of, 'get-me-the-fuck-out-of-here-now.' i am ignored.

"sorry?" he tilts his head in pure confusion, he looks worried. i hate him for it. "don't be sorry. it's okay. i'm happy."

i glance around the room and notice i'm being recorded, i don't know what sets me off more. he's too close, the camera, him, why is he so close? he touches my shoulder to comfort me and i jerk away, i can't stop looking at the camera and the other staff members who are beaming at us.

"i'm sorry," my eyes lock with his, "i don't want you." he doesn't understand and i glance at the translator.

she looks sad and very softly tells him what i've said, he doesn't seem to believe her because he presses his fingers against the tiger lily and shakes his head.

"us. this is us." he's struggling to speak himself and i can see him remembering. he's really looking at my arm now, clearer. the burns, the cuts. all the times i've tried to prune that cancerous flower from my arm. almost physically wounded he takes a step back.

"i'm sorry, i don't want this." the translator repeats my words and all he does is nod.

he nods and i leave.

[massivedrickhead]

i’d love to see 11/22 from the worry prompts if you get the time!

Thanks for sending these and for waiting so long for me to get to them!

Those prompts worked really well together so I combined them, hope you like it!

11. “Eventually you’re gonna have to tell me what’s on your mind.”

22. “You’re never this quiet.”

Prompt taken from here.

Read on AO3

-

“Eventually you’re gonna have to tell me what’s on your mind, you’re never this quiet,” Beca said, chancing a glance at Chloe, who was still frowning at her phone.

“It’s nothing,” Chloe replied. “I’m fine.”

Beca sighed and hit pause on the TV show neither of them was watching. “Chloe.”

“What?” Chloe asked, finally looking up from her phone, the crease still prominent between her eyebrows.

“Talk to me,” Beca said. “What’s going on? You’ve hardly said two words since you got home.”

“I’m fighting with Chicago, if you really need to know,” Chloe said, sounding irritated as she focused her attention back on her phone. “He was supposed to be coming home next week, and now he isn’t.”

“Oh,” Beca said. “I’m sorry, that sucks. Did he say why?”

“He wants to go to Florida for a week with the boys,” Chloe said. “He only gets one week before he’s back overseas, and he said he wants to relax.”

“Right,” Beca said. She bit her tongue, holding back what she really wanted to say.

“So now I feel like a bitch,” Chloe said, “because I’m mad that he’s choosing to spend time with his army buddies - who he sees every day - instead of coming to see me.”

“Why would that make you a bitch?” Beca asked.

“Because he has a tough job, and he deserves to be able to relax while he’s on leave,” Chloe said.

Beca didn’t reply, but Chloe heard her sigh and she rolled her eyes.

“This is why I wasn’t going to say anything,” Chloe said. “You always get weird when I talk about Chicago.”

“I’m not being weird,” Beca said. 

“I know you don’t like him.”

“I don’t have a problem with him,” Beca lied. “I don’t really have any opinion, I hardly know the dude.”

“But? I’m sensing there is one,” Chloe said.

“No buts,” she said. “Besides, it doesn’t really matter what I think, as long as you’re happy.”

“Of course it matters,” Chloe said. “You’re my best friend.”

Beca sighed again. “Do you really want to know what I think?”

“Yes,” Chloe said, though not actually sure if she did. It was one thing to suspect Beca didn’t like her boyfriend, but it might feel different if she heard her say it.

“I think you can do better,” Beca said. “It doesn’t feel like he treats you like a priority, and I think you deserve to be with someone who does.”

“You always say that about people I date,” Chloe said, rolling her eyes again.

Beca shrugged. “You asked what I thought.”

“He’s a nice guy,” Chloe said. “And besides, it’s not exactly like I have a queue of people ready and waiting to sweep me off my feet and make me their number one priority.”

Beca shook her head. “Just because you don’t see them, doesn’t mean they aren’t there.”

Chloe frowned, her eyebrows pulling together in confusion. She watched as Beca stood up and grabbed their empty dinner plates from the coffee table. “Do you want anything while I’m up?” Beca asked, carrying them into the kitchen.

“No,” Chloe said, the frown still on her face as she focused her attention back on her phone.

Chicago: Are you seriously upset about this? 

Chloe: I mean, kinda? We haven’t seen each other in months.

Chloe: I was really looking forward to seeing you. I miss you.

Chicago: I miss you too, babe. Please don’t make me feel bad about this, I really need just some time to destress. 

Chicago: Please don’t make this a big deal.

Chloe: It’s fine. Do what you need to do, and I’ll see you when you’re next on leave.

Chicago: So now you’re going to guilt trip me? You’re so fucking controlling sometimes.

Chloe: I literally don’t know what you want me to say.

Chloe: Like what response were you hoping for?

Chicago: I guess I just hoped you’d understand that I needed this without being all passive-aggressive about it. 

Chloe: I’m not being passive-aggressive.

Chloe: Do what you want Chicago, I clearly can’t win no matter what I say.

Chicago: How is that not passive-aggressive?

Chicago: I need to get back to work. We can talk later once you’ve had time to cool off.

“Here,” Beca said, handing Chloe a glass of wine. “You look like you need it.”

Chloe hadn’t even realised tears of frustration and anger had started spilling down her cheeks. She cleared her throat and wiped her eyes. “Thanks,” she said.

“If you keep staring at your phone like that, you’ll get a headache.” 

“Yeah,” Chloe said. She locked her phone and put it face down on the sofa. She grabbed the remote and hit play on the TV again, the silence in the room being quickly replaced by their 50th re-watch of Friends. The sound of the studio audience laughing felt oddly out of place.

Chloe took a drink of wine and glanced at Beca, who was scrolling on her phone, holding a beer in her other hand.

“I’m sorry I was off with you before,” Chloe said. “None of this is your fault, and you were just looking out for me.”

“It’s okay,” Beca said, her eyes flicking up from her phone for long enough to shoot Chloe a tight-lipped smile. “Sorry if I was out of line with what I said. It doesn’t matter what I think about him. If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

There was a pause in which neither of them said anything. Beca scrolled on her phone, and Chloe watched the TV without really watching it.

“That’s the thing,” Chloe said. “I don’t know if I am.”

“Don’t know if you’re what?”

“Happy.”

Beca looked up now. She locked and pocketed her phone, and turned her body so she was facing Chloe.

“You aren’t?”

“I thought I was, but…” She tossed Beca her phone so she could read through the texts. “If this is how he is after eight months of dating, what’s he going to be like in the future?”

She could see Beca’s jaw clench as she read through their last few messages. She handed Chloe’s phone back to her, and she took a long drink of her beer.

“If I showed you my phone, and that was how my partner was speaking to me, what would you say?”

Chloe swallowed and felt tears stinging her eyes.

She remembered the last few months of Beca and Jesse’s relationship. Remembered the heated arguments they’d have in person, over the phone, and in text.

She remembered how she felt watching Beca - the strongest person she knew - dissolve into tears nearly every night. 

Chloe had felt so helpless.

Helpless and angry.

When it finally came to a head and they ended things, Chloe didn’t know if she’d ever felt more relieved.

“I’d tell you to leave them,” Chloe said. “I’d tell you that you deserved better.”

Beca nodded. “Maybe you need to listen to your own advice.”

Chloe bit down on her bottom lip. “I don’t know. I don’t want to be alone.”

“You won’t be,” Beca said. “Not if you don’t want to.” Beca took hold of Chloe’s hand and squeezed. “Whatever you decide, I’ll support you,” she said. “But don’t force yourself to stay in a relationship that makes you unhappy just because you don’t want to be on your own.”

Chloe swallowed and squeezed Beca’s hand back. She nodded. “You’re right,” she said.

Beca felt some of the tension leave her shoulders, and she let out a steady breath. “You deserve more than he’s willing to give you,” she said. “I hope one day you realise how amazing you are, Chlo’. I hope you realise you’re worthy of being loved wholly. Fully.”

Chloe gripped Beca’s hand tighter. “So are you,” she said.

Beca shrugged and gave her a small smile. “That’s why I’m holding out for the real thing. I can wait for her.”

Chloe tilted her head. “Her? You have someone in mind?”

Beca laughed softly and shook her head in disbelief but not denial. “Yeah, there’s someone. She just needs to ditch the shitty boyfriend and actually open her eyes.”

Chloe felt something in her chest tighten.

She’d never allowed herself to hope, or dream, that this would happen.

Had never allowed herself to acknowledge that her feelings for Beca went way beyond a crush. That they’d always been way beyond a crush.

There were tears in Beca’s eyes now, and behind them, Chloe could just make out a glimmer of hope and fear.

Beca spoke with confidence, with calmness and self-assuredness, but Chloe could see in her eyes that Beca was terrified.

Beca was taking a chance, a leap of faith, that Chloe might pick up on what she was saying. That Chloe might reciprocate.

“I never… I didn’t think you’d ever actually feel the same way about me,” Chloe said. “I, um, after you and Jesse broke up and we still didn’t… I guess I kinda gave up hope. I tried to move on.”

“I know,” Beca said. “And I’m sorry that I never said anything. Your friendship is the most important thing to me, and I couldn’t… I still can’t lose that.”

“You won’t,” Chloe said, her thumb brushing across Beca’s knuckles. 

Beca nodded. “But?”

Chloe shook her head. “No buts. I just need to know… Is this real, Bec? Is this really how you feel about me?”

“Yes,” Beca said, her voice little more than a whisper. “I’m… I’m so in love with you, Chloe.”

Chloe’s breath caught in her chest and tears made their way quickly down her cheeks.

“Beca.”

“You don’t need to say it back,” Beca said. “And I understand if I waited too long and now you’re… You know, if you have moved on, it’s okay. I just want you to be happy, Chlo’.”

“Being with you would make me happy,” Chloe said. “And I can’t say it back yet, but I will. I want to, I just… I need time.”

“Take all the time you need,” Beca said. “I can wait.”

Chloe pulled Beca into a hug and held her tighter than she ever had before. “I want to kiss you so bad,” she said, causing a teary laugh to erupt from Beca.

“Me too,” she said. “But not while you’re with Chicago.”

“No,” Chloe agreed. “No, I know.” She ended their hug and cupped Beca’s face in her hands. “Are we really doing this? I’m not dreaming, right?”

“If it is a dream then I don’t want to wake up,” Beca said.

Chloe laughed and quickly wiped away a tear before her hands went to rest on Beca’s shoulders.

“That was kinda cheesy, huh?” Beca said.

Chloe nodded, still half-laughing, half-crying. “I’m gonna break up with him,” Chloe said. “And then, once the dust has settled, I’m gonna ask you out on a date.”

Beca smiled. “And I’m gonna say yes. And when it’s over, we’ll walk home, and before we open the door, I’ll invite you in for coffee.”

Chloe laughed and shook her head. “We live together.”

“So I know you’ll say yes,” Beca said. “And then I’ll kiss you, and then the next bit of our life together gets to start.”

Chloe closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against Beca’s. “I can’t wait,” she said. 

[front-facing-pokemon]

I just found this blog so I'm jumping aboard the plushie bandwagon.

First we got Absol. (i feel like maybe i should've taken a closer-up picture but it's the face sooo)

Then a Wooloo

And, saving best for last, this Leafeon plush I own... of which I swear on my life is official merch.

I also have some more eeveelutions (plus an eevee and a few more) but: 1. I didn't want to send too many. 2. Eeveelutions are more popular so I wanted to give some other people the chance to submit their own. 3. I don't know where my Pikachu and Snivy plushies are cuz I own too many stuffed animals.

Only reason I submitted Leafeon was so I could show off this ~masterpiece~ of a plushie I own. And it's face isn't the only thing wrong with it too lol. Also I just noticed I accidentally had one of the ears hanging back but I'm too lazy to go take another photo but i hope this amuses you nonetheless.

ALRIGHT THERE'S BEEN A LOT OF YOU AS I'VE BEEN OUT WITH MY FAMILY FOR CHRISTMAS HUH

let's start with these guys. beautiful. wonderful. i do not believe that that leafeon is official merch. this statement is baffling to me. welcome to the front-facing pokémon family. i love the eyes on that absol and wooloo is one of my faves. i was rather obsessed with it when it first came out and have a whole wooloo tag on my main blog because of it. though i guess i cleared that whole thing out recently so i don't anymore

let's get the nose ratings out of the way:

↑ this is a lie. 10/10 chespin

it's very wide and also 10/10 you're being too harsh. merry day to you too

circular face indeed. did i already post this one? if i did you can have it again

clodsire be upon ye. clodsire fans this is your treat until gen 9

this is a trend now. i think tumblr just crunched this image to hell for some reason so here's what the text says:

"Felt like joining the others for front facing pokeplushies [images] I have more pokemon but its early morning and these are the plushies that are easy to access"

i have not but i imagine "a moment" has long passed by now. my apologies but apparently today was an important day or something? idk

YEAH it's super unbelievably fucked up. i think i kinda remember the circumstance being a bit dire so everyone else was more worried about either 1. protagonist getting stomped on brutally or 2. saving the world from kyurem / the bittercold. i was totally under the impression that he was dead in that moment but i guess the characters may have known that he would just come back? i seem to vaguely remember partner being surprised that he came back and being like "but we watched you die :OOO" but maybe i'm misremembering that. i do create a lot of pmd lore on my own time so i have a hard time telling the difference between canon and fanon sometimes

two a day makes the world go round! this blog started when i started college, paused for 80% of my college career and now has started back up and i just graduated college a week ago. i would say "how time flies" but it has been a very, very long year

i've said it before and i'll say it again: gen 6 is my favorite gen, so you'll be seeing lots of favor for this gen from me in the tags i'm sure. maybe gen 6 is my excuse to start doing other things here. like that stream i keep talking about

if they put meloetta as a little obscure puzzle thang in sv, i'm sure they'll do something for genesect. i hope. at least for keldeo probably. genesect i'm not sure is very popular, unfortunately, outside of the tumblr crowd. if the general public's opinion on genesect is favorable, then maybe

okay and then i tried to scroll down further in my screenshots for more asks and saw the wobbly will smith in a hospital bed Gimme a Hug, Man that i copied from the "i get a little bit genghis kanghis" post so that's it. to everyone who christmases: merry it. it is today. although it's basically over by now so! merry boxing day for tomorrow if i don't say anything tomorrow. but i probably will. now i'm gonna go queue up today's 'mons because i haven't done it yet today. see you all in a few weeks when those post

[laineystein]

✅ in

I turned my queue off when I got my order 8 and I don’t plan on turning it back on until the hostages are home. So this blog has gone a bit dark like a lot of my social media because my focus is just elsewhere. I’m back to working 45-ish hours a week - at 3 different jobs with two of them constantly being at different locations depending on where I’m needed. I’m seeing my somnologist again and I’m finally sleeping better! This is a big reason I’ve been kind of MIA because usually I’m on here when the people in my life are asleep but lately I’ve been asleep during that time too BH (like a normal person) so I’ve been on here less and less.

But I’m still around! I try and check in on everyone and see what y’all are up to…even if I have nothing to share (or no energy to share it). Things on here (and on the internet in general tbh) just feel so tense lately. Even amongst Jews. The vibes are off, fam.

Anyway. I appreciate y’all and wish I had more to share. Sending so much love to everyone. Take care of yourselves. 🫶🏼

[thessalian]

Thess vs Misreading Work Situations

One of the failings my manager, Scruffman, seems to have is a complete inability to gauge how bad a work situation is. I came in today after my week of, checked my emails, and got, "Hey, two of the girls did some overtime over the weekend so we're in good shape!"

Then I checked the typing queue. There were about 350 cases in the queue. The reason for this was actually that a lot of people were out yesterday, and almost everyone was out today. Basically it was Goblin being on annual leave (she's back tomorrow, though the schedule Scruffman sends us at the start of each week does not reflect that), New Girl is sick again, Milady's still off indefinitely... Basically it was me and Temp today. And you know what Temp is like - slow, and won't touch anything overly long. In fact, was also doing the thing where she kept a couple of long cases in the queue and threw them back in at her home-time of 5pm".

We're still at about 350 cases, with more coming in (and a lot of them will be urgents). We're not even halfway through all of yesterday's typing. So guess who's doing overtime because of the absolute mess that was left for me when I went off for a week?

I am tired and I hurt, but this absolute fucking mess will not go away until I do things about it. And, I mean, if this is with overtime done over the weekend, what the fuck would it have looked like if they hadn't? Gods.

We are so understaffed. We just keep shedding people and no one times their annual leave properly and we need a temp if we keep having people off on long-term sick! But nope. It's just me, and sometimes Temp if she feels like it, and I'm praying that Scruffman is right about Goblin not being on annual leave all week like the schedule says.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

Okay, break over. Back to it. Whatever he says, even with Goblin back, we're going to be in a mess the rest of the week and I am going to suffer.

See, this is why the absolute massacre of disability benefits by the Labour government is terrifying me. Because this is the sort of shit that workplaces expect, and I shouldn't feel obliged to do this, never mind anyone else in a similar position.

[hischariotsurplus]

"Don't look back as you brave the Black Forest!"

Verbolten is always very fun to draw. She's the expressive early teenager who's in love with adventure!

Trained and taught to fix and drive cars, passed down from family generations, Verbolten was introduced to the family tradition of the Black Forest Tours. Verbolten isn't ever afraid of what happens when she travels the Black Forest. She comes across wolves, ghost, and the spirit of the forest. Brave and strong as she can be, nothing can stop her!

Verbolten and Her Fears/Lore

During HOS, she tends to get more flashbacks of Big Bad Wolf. It also doesn’t help her that every now and then, a wolf howl can be heard throughout Germany/Octoberfest. She gets counseling from The soul of Mach Tower aka Machenzie about it since she’s a spirit herself. Verbolten is afraid of ghost but not Machenzie. Verbolten struggles to stand up for her fears(ugh Green Lantern reference) of the wolf, ghost and spirit of the forest.

I wanna talk about her up coming outfits that I will post about here soon!

Verbolten has a outfit similar to Red Riding Hood, her cousin, to scare off the wolf. But, Aura, that makes no sense. The Big Bad Wolf would want to eat her if she saw Verbolten dressed as Red Riding Hood? No! Red Riding Hood passed when the wolf ate her, so therefore if Verbolten dresses up as her she’ll scare the wolf away because wolf will think Red Riding Hood came back from the dead.

As you may know, Verbolten’s family has a history of mechanics and working on vehicles. Verbolten is only 12 years old and she knows how to make a broken down car start working again! Verbolten will go into the Black Forest with her father, Gunter, and find old broken down cars that she thinks she could fix, (depending on how damaged), and bring them back to her tour station. Verbolten’s family also made *Black Forest Tours* as a way to profit off Spiritual nature and wolves. They made the tour to have the people of Germany not fear the ghost and wolves as they are in the Black Forest to hide from humans and not to harm. Verbolten, however, still fears whatever lies in the Black Forest as she is haunted herself but hides it and never speaks of it to her family, or else the *Black Forest Tours* will be exposed. Greta and Gunter, Verbolten’s mother and Father’s voice still plays in the TV’s that are in the Queue line.

However, every Digitally active device is haunted and it may seem like dash cams and video recordings are live time, but, in reality, Greta and Gunter died years ago due to unknown reasons. The TV’s repeat the last words, conversations and camera activity that was once Gunter and Greta alive. Hansel and Gretel, Verbolten’s brother and sister, both passed when they went into the Alps to look for their mother and father in an attempt to bring their family back together. They didn’t know where they went so they checked the Alps because Gretel reported that they saw mother and father putting on winter jackets and gear. Verbolten was hoping Hansel and Gretel would return, however, they never did that night. They’re bodies were found by the *Supernatural Conspiracy Theorist* group when they were up there looking for the *Ghost of the Alps* known as Alpengeist. Hansel and Gretel got far enough up the mountain that they did manage to see Alpengeist. However, they didn’t tell if it was a ghost or yeti. Whatever they saw was too white for their eyes. Verbolten was devastated that she lost all her family members in a span of two weeks. She feared she would be next as she heard voices every night she slept. The *Spirit of the Forest* would call her name, the ghost would send shivers down her spine, and the wolf would wake her in a cold sweat…….

[expatesque]

Saturday morning sleepover vibe! Because I was super tired last night - it’s been a very full on week with work, I met a friend after work weds so got back late and then proceeded to stay up very late finishing my book; and then Thursday I went to the royal opera house to see Don Quixote which is now my favourite ballet!

Have you got any plans coming up? Anything for Halloween? Any plans for Christmas decorating and activities? Oh and any London brunch recommendations?

Sending many hugs ♥️

Sounds like a good week! Ooh I've not seen Don Quixote, I'm going to check if there's still tickets, that sounds fabulous.

I'm dreading Halloween this year - I have a friend whose bday is right around Halloween and she always throws a party that I hate every year. But this year I have to go because it's her 30th and the boy is likely to be there, so I'm hoping to go early, leave early, and avoid him and embarrassing myself.

But then I'm off on holiday (Grand Canaria, not my usual type of place but my friend planned it and I could use 5 days on a beach) and then my birthday in early December! Not going to lie, I was dreading it this year (waking up alone) but my law girls have all taken the day off work and we're going to shop and drink and watch bad Christmas movies.

And then Christmas should be fabulous! My parents have finally bought a new place in Chicago (it's been a whole saga) and it's gorgeous, a two story flat in a building from 1924 with only 60 units. My best friend is coming out and it'll be so nice to enjoy all the festivities. My parents are also going to host their famous black tie NYE party again and I'm now good friends with a lot of their friends' kids so it'll be multigenerational and great fun.

As for brunch: if you're willing to queue, Sunday in Barnsbury is genuinely the best. Jolene is also great, as is Towpath. Honey & Co is worth getting up early for (they only do their shakshuka until 11) and of course, the breakfast naans at Dishoom are iconic for a reason.

[spxcemuses]

RULES.

Hello people! My name is Space, welcome to my semi-selective multimuse blog! PLEASE make sure to read these before interacting and/or following! If you also have questions, feel free to ask/DM me about it! UPDATED: 6/2/2025 (will change with them; please check on them periodically!)

001. This blog is semi-selective. I have a lean towards "mutuals" (we both follow each other) and close friends. We don't have to be mutuals to write together though! I don't have to accept every RP. I may take time to follow back/reach out to you. I also have a part-time job (and possible mental health issues), so oftentimes I will be burnt out/have little motivation. Please know this; it isn't you nor your blog. I typically soft-block; if you are soft-blocked & wanna write again, you can follow back. You may hard block if you wish to cut ties w/me entirely. I will hard-block if your rules state so or if you're rude/harassing to me.

002. I am an adult (23) and only RP with those whom are 18+ due to dark themes on my blog & overall maturity. I will block you if you are a minor or have no age in your blog anywhere. Muse ≠ Mun; most of them are villains or morally ambiguous. I will not "water them down" for you. I do not support/condone their actions IRL. If you have a problem w/seeing a certain muse, please block the main tag of said character ("muse; [character name]")

003. There will be potentially triggering topics written on this blog. I will tag things with "[trigger] tw"/"[trigger mention] tw". I also have fandom-based tags you may block. The complete list is here. I will personally not RP: beastiality/zoophilia, pedophilia, incest, "selfcest" (shipping two of the same character), childbirth (just the act itself), TBA.

004. My reply speed is slow (a few weeks/months depending on muse/character). I run my stuff primarily on a queue, but sometimes actively post on occasion. Please note that I may not be writing a muse you wish to write with at any point in time. If it's been a bit since I've replied, feel free to remind me! If you also would like to drop a thread; let me know!

005. I write 1-3 paragraphs typically (but can write more if the situation calls for it. You don't have to "match length", but do not give me one-liners or just dialog if I've written more. I use X-Kit Rewritten to 'trim' my threads. I italicize/bold my words and have icons (sometimes) but don't have much formatting otherwise. (Edit: It won't be a guarantee since I have a Chromebook and use my phone to trim threads, but I'll try.)

006. I consider OOC communication regarding threads to be important. I check in to see if threads want to be continued, to plot, or just to gush about our interactions. All I ask is that you be upfront and honest with me about things. My Discord is available to mutuals upon request. I do not have a rules password (anymore), but I will send rules passwords for YOU if you have any. I read and re-read rules as well.

007. Interactions: Please reblog memes/gif sets/etc. from the source (or where I reblogged it from) unless source is deactivated. I don't practice reblog karma. This blog is crossover friendly (within circumstances), AU friendly, duplicate friendly, and OC friendly!

When it comes to asks I receive in my inbox, I copy the ask into a new post and @ the person who sent it in (unless it's anonymous). I do not RP with anonymous users or turn asks into threads UNLESS there's a RP blog specified in the ask. Anonymous asks without a blog specified will have reblogs turned off but will be answered.

008. I rely heavily on the tag system/"tags" to navigate through people's blogs. I have tags for everything and I track the tag "spxcemuses". May not interact if you do not have tags.

009. I will most likely block personal blogs unless you have a RP sideblog. Nothing against you; I am just a RP blog & it is different from a fanfic/fan blog. Also likes/etc. clutter my notifications.

010. I do not tolerate OOC/IRL bigotry or drama on this blog & will hard-block you if situations arise. I am also anti-callout (unless there is legitimate & solid evidence; I will make my own decisions regardless). Anon hate to the admin will not be tolerated; having anonymous asks on my blog is a privilege, not a right.

011. DNI. Do not interact w/me if you go by these aliases below:

Aku/Grim | Loke/Wards | Legend | Arke/Mocha | Hearty | Kier | Rosario/Whitley | Slurk | Shiloh/Spork/Patch | Boogey | Marrow | Stols | Mars | Skeptic | Pucca | Shep | Curio | Hillary | SavBear | phoenixissims (idk the mun's name but will add it if I find out)

It is a lot of names, but I have chosen to block these people. I don't have "beef" or "discourse" with anyone on the list; I have either blocked these people due to legitimate callouts within the RPC, them being problematic to me/others, or simply don't feel comfortable interacting with. I choose whom I interact with. I will not be upset if you personally interact/associate with these people, but I want to avoid them if possible.

012. For shipping, I am "multiship" but I am selective with it. All ships also are in different "verses" (unless person A & person B are both ok w/it being in the same verse). Do not assume our muses have a relationship in your canon/etc. (unless they've both interacted). If you want pre-established relationships, please talk to me about it first. This is especially for OCs that are written in that universe/show or self-inserts; my interpretation of a character may not align with how you see them.

Do NOT use me purely for shipping material/force ships with me. I do not ship: incest, adult/minor ships, or with duplicates of the same muse ("self-cest"). I have a NSFW sideblog I use for smutty/sexual threads. I expect you to be 18+ to interact there. I don't write smut with underaged characters (even if they're aged up) or with underage muns. If I find out you lied about your age to write smut with me, I'll hardblock you on both blogs; never interact again.

If you have read the rules & acknowledge them, please like this post here so I know!