#also how do you keep track of all the blogs you enjoy if you don’t follow them??? i get older every day

[livelaughlovesubs]

My pretty doll

Dom!reader x sub!scara - reader is gender neutral

Warning: feminisation, lingerie, clothes sex, pegging (can be read as a dick), unprotected sex, belly bulge, dacryphilia

Dunno if you read this already, it’s from my old blog: so just a repost (was the only thing I had haha)

Scara was and had always been a brat, never listening to your commands unless he’s in sub-space. Though that was fine by you, because in the end, you both knew it will play out exactly how you want. No matter how much he tries to deny it, he was just your adorable doll after all. Which is why after convincing him, he eventually put on the set of white undergarments you bought him. The fabric was thin and almost transparent, since it was lace you could almost see everything. It felt itchy against his skin, he wasn’t used to these kinds of clothes. The bra was a bit big, or maybe he was too flat. One of the straps was hanging down his shoulder, so he crossed his arms in front of his chest. He also had a cute and small bulge in his panties, thighs clenched together after he noticed you staring.

“Of course you’d like this you pervert.” He mocked, turning around and showing you his shoulder, a pretty pathetic try to cover himself a little. First you made him wear such lewd stuff, and now all you are doing is stare? Not to mention how the loose strap was annoying him, it didn’t want to stay where he wanted it to. Even though he was still insulting you, his face was a flushed red now. Blushing furiously while averting his gaze. He was all bark after all, he could never say those things while looking at you, otherwise he’d fold immediately. “Yet it seems like someone enjoys this even more than me.” You teased while gazing up at him, until you waved him over to you.

The puppet hesitated a little, thinking about the best course of action before walking up to you. “What?” A firm and annoyed tone, a big show just to hide his excitement and nervousness. “Just wanted to have a better look at you, turn around.” “Who are you to tell me what to do?” You giggled, he was trying too hard to seem in control, but that is basically impossible when his face already looks like a mess, it was hilarious. “Come on, scara, do a little twirl for me.” He pouted, crossing his arms and looking away in defiance. Then turning around slowly, he always ends up doing what you want, so why keep making it difficult? Was it due to his pride?

When his back was facing you, you reached your hands out to grab his small waist. “Ugh?!” His body twitched, and he stopped in his track, looking over his shoulder to ask you, “What are yo-” “shhh, don’t make a fuss now.” Before he knew it, you pulled him closer to you, to the point his back was pressed against your body. Then you grind against his butt as you whispered into his ear, “can I stick it in?”

Such an indecent question! How could you- ugh, you really are the worst! “Do what you want, I don’t care.” Scaramouch said, hands grabbing your gently while he felt something rubbing against the downside of his crotch, basically making him grind on it. His breathing hitched, were you planning on..? No, no way, you two haven’t done it for so long, there is no way he could take you whole… right?

“Scara, you look adorable today, but I still think you look the cutest when getting fucked.” Ahh…what were you implying? Did you really want to..? Your fingers moved his panties to the side, not removing them, just out of the way. Enough that you could see his puffy pink hole. The other hand was already reaching for the bottle of lube. Poor boy couldn't even protest before you started preparing him roughly, sticking two fingers inside him. “MmhAa~!”He gasped at the feeling, body jerking forwards. “Oh dear, did I surprise you there?” You were definitely mocking him. He gritted his teeth, wanting to insult you. If only you didn't start pushing the tip against his entrance at that moment.

“UgHh! Ah-ahh.” His legs shook and went weak underneath him, if you weren't holding him, he would have crashed down in that moment. You were very gentle during the injecting though, taking your precious time bottoming out inside him. “Finally you learned how to shut up.” “ughh. fu-fuck you-!” Tsk, still running his foul little mouth however he wants. After many difficulties, you after managed to fit the whole length in, at this point he had his tongue hanging out and eyes rolled to the back to his skull. Like always, he was already getting addicted to this, such a dirty slut he was. “you seem to enjoy this quite a bit, scara.” You teased, and his rim clenched down on you at that. “S-Stop it, UhmM..” “Are you sure about that? You don't want me to continue?” He went quiet after that one, he didn’t know what to say. Of course he wants to keep going at it, but his pride would never allow him to give up this quickly.

You started moving because he didn't give you an answer, though only gently grinding your hips against him. “So? I have yet to hear your answer.” All it took was a few small moves for him to succumb to pleasure, “UgHhnN!! Da-damn it.. I to-old you do what you want.” At first you were still on the nicer side, after finally getting the consent you needed, you switched up to pounding him like an animal. He cried out after the first trust, gripping your hands even more tightly, until his nails dug into your skin. “AaGghhnn, oOhh! Mhm, oh-gahh!” In the matter of seconds, your lovely doll was reduced to a moaning mess. Your dick just felt so good inside him, hitting so many deep and pleasurable spots. All he felt was bliss and ecstasy.

Your chin was placed on his shoulder, looking over at his body. You couldn't help but smirk when you saw the small belly bulge on the tiny boy, commenting on it with a low voice, “do you see that right here?” Then you rubbed the bulge with your palm, he whined at that, “uhmMNN!” “Does this feel good? Having me so deep inside you?” He couldn’t even respond properly now, only squirming around in your embrace. “This belly bulge is so cute~” He heard you say. A belly bulge..? The thought of it was kind of scary, though he swore you were truly that deep inside him. Suddenly you went faster, making his muscles tense up. You just loved how erotic his body was, and how enticing it was to watch the bulge appear and disappear, this was truly your greatest joy. “GAAhh! AhhhH- cu-cumming! Mhm-ngh, i-i..!” He was on the verge of breaking now, everything was too much, the bra was hanging on his arms and about to fall off completely.

“Aww, does my baby want to cum? Then beg and tell me what a pretty doll you are for me.” Even now you were some mean to him, teasing him like this. Can't you tell how desperate he is? “GuhHh… please let me cu-cum.. hmm, please..I-I'm your aAhh.. pretty plaything!!” Right, him obeying your commands after being so rebellious just feels so good. And with that, he came while still wearing the lace underwear, soaking the panties with his semen. A slightly darker spot was visible from his bulge, then a white fluid was seeping out from beneath it. His thighs quivered while he gasped for air, his cum dripped all the way down his milky inner thighs too. Sweat was mixing with big, fat tears, cheeks redder than ever as he pulled a super adorable expression.

“My my, we forgot to take it off. Now you've defiled the lingerie set, what to do~?” You cooed at him in a faked sad manner, as if you were pitying him. A big grin spread on your lips afterwards, he knew you were planning something again. Well, you weren’t exactly hiding it after all. All he could hope for was that he won't end up too tired at the end of this session.

[honeytonedhottie]

starting and managing ur blog⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🍰

so you wanna start a blog? in this post i’ll break down effective ways to start, manage and maintain a blog (from my own experience of course) i hope u find this helpful ✨

TOPIC AND IDEA ; 

to have a blog you need an idea or concept about what your blog will be about. make your blog about either something that you know a lot about/are proficient in.

or blog about something that u are learning about as a way to track ur progress and learn new information. you could blog about something that you love a lot etc etc. 

AESTHETIC ; 

what is your aesthetic? for me it’s hyper feminine and pink and just DIVINE. when u choose and stick to an aesthetic it’ll give ur blog kind of a signature which is important for the rest of this post. 

when u have an aesthetic in mind for ur blog make sure that you have plenty of pins on pinterest that mesh nicely with ur aesthetic so u can find things like headers, dividers, photos and emojis that suit the aesthetic of ur blog. 

RESOURCES ; 

pinterest is my holy grail for resources. there u can find headers and photos to use in ur posts to give ur audience something visually pleasing to look at while they read ur post. 

what ur gonna want to start off ur blog aesthetic and theme is ; 

a header 

a color scheme (for coloring/bolding words. and the colors for ur blog page in general)

an informative bio 

a pfp 

dividers 

START OFF POST IDEAS ; 

if u want to run a well organized blog there are a couple posts that i think are beneficial for u to make. in fact the most important post that i think any blog should have is a MASTERLIST.

master lists are great for a multitude of things. they help ur audience to navigate ur blog easier and see all that you have to offer in one convenient tap of their finger. plus when u make navigating ur blog easy, more people will experience ur content which will mean more interactions with ur post.

not only does it help the audience but it also helps u to know what u did and didn’t post, so that u can plan effectively for the future. it’s also a fun way to see how much u posted. i recommend making a new masterlist every year or when you can’t put any more links onto it 💀. if u want a reference for a good masterlist you can check out mine right here.

CONSISTENCY ; 

consistency is key in anything and everything and blogging is no exception. i recommend not blogging in a competitive nature, rather i think in order to be consistent with something like a blog you should genuinely just do it for funsies/passion and as a way to have ur own authentic creative outlet.

i don’t have a set posting schedule bcuz i don’t want blogging to feel like a chore when in reality it’s just a hobby that happened to gain an audience because people enjoyed it. and because people enjoy what i write, it in return makes me happy and wanna write more.

SIGNATURE ; 

i cannot stress this enough but when u have a platform whether it’s small or big individuality sets you apart! have something that sets u apart like personalized hash-tags, a way that u talk, etc etc. 

personalize hash-tags with things like emojis. also, USE UR HASHTAGS because when someone looks up something like “self improvement” your post will be what they see if u add those hashtags.

furthermore if u personalize those hashtags it sets u apart and gives ur blog a kind of brand and individuality in a way. like a signature at the end of a post.

THINGS TO KEEP TRACK OF ;

what posts you’ve done/want to do

upcoming projects or ideas that u have

how your following/interactions are growing or shrinking

how much $ u get from tips

inbox questions or dms to answer

your plans and goals

your personalized hashtags

i hope this post was helpful to anyone who has been thinking about or wants to create their own blog, i encourage you to do so ✨

[not-neverland06]

How About a Nuke?

Part VI / Part VII / Part VIII

Series Masterlist

Cooper Howard x fem!reader, The ghoul x fem!reader A/N: @weakling-grace did some fanart for the series that I absolutely adore! And I want you all to look at it. It’s on her blog, or reposted on mine under the tag How about a nuke? Summary: The wound’s infected. It shouldn’t be, but here you are anyway, barely holding on to life. You make it as far as you can and then it’s up to him to decide whether you get to live or die.

“Have I told you yet that you are the most gorgeous woman in this room?” You couldn’t stop the smile from spreading on your face even if you tried. 

“Only about a dozen times.” His hand reaches for yours across the table and you take it eagerly, linking your fingers together and enjoying the way his hazel eyes linger on yours. You could get lost in them, as cliche as it sounds. You and about every other woman in the world fell in love when you first saw those smiling eyes on the silver screen. 

“I’ll just have to tell you a dozen more.”

God, you would swoon if you could. But, unfortunately, you are in the middle of a very nice restaurant and you’re sure they wouldn’t enjoy your fainting spell. It’s not like you could help it, he was so effortlessly charming, everything he said with that rasping accent of his sounded like music to you. 

Your smile slipped slightly when you caught two women staring at you both. They weren’t even trying to hide it, pointing and whispering behind their hands. You clenched your jaw, trying your best not to let the anger show on your face. But he caught it anyway. 

Cooper dropped your hand and tucked his back in his lap. He sighed and glanced over his shoulder, they caught his eye and gasped, stopping their cruel whispers. You opened your mouth to try and make him feel better but he interrupted you, “Hey-”

“I told you this was gonna happen sweetheart.” You hated how sad he sounded, how resigned he was to his new place in life. It was no secret that most of your fellow actors despised him now just because he did a few ad campaigns for Vault-Tec. But that didn’t mean the rest of the world did. There were still plenty of people who adored Cooper and asked for his autograph. 

Granted, those ladies clearly weren’t fans, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care if you got spotted together in public and rumors started up again. You didn’t care what that meant about future roles. “I want to be with you, Coop, but I can’t keep having this same conversation over and over again.” You sighed and finally drew your hand back to yourself, he tracked the movement like a hawk. 

“If this is too much,” you forced yourself to swallow past the lump in your throat and put on a stilted smile. “If being with me in the public eye is too much then maybe we should-”

“Enough,” he reached back over and forced his hand into yours. “I’m sorry, I’m just worried about you.” He stopped you before you could interrupt him, giving you a knowing smile. “I know that you don’t care what being around me does to your career, but I do. There’s no reason for the both of us to be washed up celebrities.”

“Hey, you’re not washed up, plenty of people still want to see you on the silver screen.”

He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. He squeezed your hand once before letting go and picking up his fork, “Let’s just enjoy our meal, sweetheart.”

“Pick up the pace! I’m not gonna wait for you forever, sweetheart.”

You glared at him and leaned on a tree for support. You’re not sure what’s going on. You feel hot under your skin but also like you’re freezing, you’d thrown up twice during night watch and you’re about five seconds away from keeling over. 

Your sweaty palm slips against the bark and you go sliding over. You hear his boots stomping through the grass before they stop in front of you. Rough hands steady your shoulders and shove you upright again. His eyes rove across your face, the muscles above his eyes turning down in concern. 

“Shit, you look like,” he trailed off, “well, to be perfectly honest you look like shit.”

You laughed but it came out strangled and he flinched back in disgust when you started coughing. “Good to know you’re still a gentleman, Cooper.” 

He sighed and led you over to a rotted log. You threw yourself down on it, wincing as it jarred your sensitive stomach. The gash was aching a lot more than it should. 

When you’d been shot, you could barely even feel it by this point. Now the wound was burning, itching so bad you just wanted to rip the stitches out with your bare hands. Your head rolls back and you clench your eyes shut as another wave of nausea goes through you. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat, rattling like a hummingbird in a cage. 

He kneels in front of you and reaches for your shirt. You lean back on your hands to give him better access. “Stimpak should have worked by now,” he mutters. He pulls your shirt higher up on your abdomen and hisses through his teeth. 

“What is it?” Your tongue is glued to the roof of your mouth and the words come out garbled. 

“Shit!” He yanks your shirt down and reaches for your bag, digging through it until he finds another one of the Stimpaks you’d taken. 

You’d be more panicked if your head wasn’t floating right now. “What is it?” He doesn’t answer you, he hovers the injector over his mouth and lets the medicine shoot in. You wince when he immediately turns to spit it into the grass. 

He wipes the back of his mouth and chuckles. “Should’ve fucking known,” he mutters. He goes through the rest of the supplies you’d grabbed and starts chucking them further into the forest. 

You’re getting pissed off now. Pissed off and worried, you just needed him to talk to you, tell you what’s going on. “Cooper!” You snap, hand clutched over the burning wound on your stomach. He sighs and looks up at you. “Tell me what’s happening.”

“Fakes,” he says, mouth set in a firm line and eyes hard against your worried gaze. “See, darlin’, some people like the men we met last night hand out fake supplies.” If you weren’t so worried you’d be mad about how condescending he sounds. 

“They take empty injectors and fill ‘em with chems to keep people sick and coming back to them. It’s a steady income,” he says, like it’s a respectable career. “Your wound is infected, probably only worsened by whatever chem they put in the Stimpak I stuck you with.”

Your eyes are wide with horror. You can’t decide what’s worse, that you’ve essentially been poisoned and are probably experiencing sepsis right now. Or that people were capable of being so cruel and profited off of it. He pulls your canteen out of your bag and unscrews the cap. He holds the water up to your nose, “Sniff.” You do and he waves his hand, prompting you to tell him what exactly you smelled. 

“Smells like metal,” you shrug, not sure what that means. 

“Infected and you’ve got rad poisoning.” At your confused glance he continues, “Water’s not purified either, sweetheart. Whatever you got is about to get a hundred times worse.” When he turns his back to put the water back in your bag you finally risk a glance down at your stomach. 

You wished you hadn’t because you’re immediately bending over to throw up what was left of your rations. The skin has swelled over the stitches, practically swallowing the black thread. The place the knife went in is red and puckered, pus forming at the corners. The sides of your stomach have an odd green tint that you’re trying not to think about too hard, most likely a side effect of whatever chem you’d been dosed with. 

He presses the canteen into your hand and you shake your head from where it is between your knees. “Can’t, radiation.”

He laughs, the sound unkind, “It’s a bit late for that, honey.” You snatch the water out of his hand and gulp down as much as you can stomach. It’s not much, the taste of the water is too metallic and bitter for you. “The place we’re going, they’ve got medicine. We get you there and I’m sure I can work something out with them.”

You know what that really means. He’ll get paid for his bounty and then he’ll get what he wants, whether they offer it freely or not. “If I get there,” you mutter, still holding back the rest of your breakfast. 

“Enough,” he snaps. His hand wraps around your elbow and he yanks you to your feet. “We need to get a move on, power through.” If you had the strength, you’d slap him again. 

“Here you go,” he placed a bowl down on the coffee table, steam still wisping over the edge. He sat down beside you on your couch and brushed some hair away from your face and you leaned into the warmth of his palm. You were freezing but he seemed to think you were burning up. 

“Did you make me soup?” Your voice is groggy with sleep. He helps you into a sitting position and hands you the bowl. 

“No,” he laughs a little and leans back against the cushions, arm spreading out behind you and pulling you into him. “But I warmed it up for you.”

“Cooper,” you whisper. 

“Get a move on!” He shouts from a couple yards ahead. “You either move your ass or I’ll leave you here, because I’m sure as shit not carrying you.”

Oh shit. 

Hallucinating is never a good sign. You would swear on everything above that you were just on your couch with Cooper. You could still feel the warmth of the bowl in your hands, the old plush fabric of your couch on your cheeks. 

You swallowed down bile and did your best to catch up to him. You blinked a few times, trying to get rid of the fog over your eyes, but it didn’t help much. It took you a minute to realize it was from the sweat dripping down your brow and burning against your retinas that was causing the problem. 

You glanced around, surprised to find yourself surrounded by sand. Weren’t you just in the forest? You lifted a shaking hand to try and get rid of the glare of the sun. He was walking closer to you now, keeping a keener eye on you. You trip over your own feet for the inth time and try to keep pushing yourself. 

“Any chance we could dim those?” You squint and point up to the lights hanging above the set and one of the PA’s runs off to fulfill your request. You shake your boots out, tired of all the sand that’s been getting in them. You understand you’re meant to be chasing an outlaw through the “Wild West” but this is getting ridiculous. 

You’ve done about a hundred retakes of this scene, you’re not sure when the director is going to admit defeat but you hope it’s soon. You don’t know why the studio is even bothering to do cowboy stuff anymore. Everyone knows since Coop was forced out of the industry no one’s wanted to see these types of movies. 

The actor you’re working with this time is a dick. He’s commanding and rude, he’s got no sense of boundaries either. Or a nose. 

What the fuck?

He stands over top of you and you finally realize that you’ve collapsed into the sand. You let your head fall back and rub your forehead. One second you’re on a set and the next you’re in the Wastelands at the end of the world. You’re struggling to remember which version of reality is real and which isn’t. 

“I mean it,” he threatens, “I ain’t carrying you.” Your hand flops uselessly to your side, muscles fatigued and the burning in your gut sucking the energy out of you. The only part of yourself you’re physically aware of is the stab, you can’t feel anything else. You can’t twitch your toes or wiggle your fingers, everything is off kilter. “Alright then,” he leans down and yanks your arm over his shoulder. 

Before you’re processing what’s happening the world is being tilted on its axis and you’re being hauled to your feet. You don’t remember much about traveling through the sands. Everything is one long blur of red and orange. When the air in front of you starts to get wavy your eyes lose focus and you black out.

She nearly made it. They’re only about an hour away from this compound he’s been trying to get her to. He sighs, looking down at her prone form in the sand. There’s sweat beading along her forehead, her lips are cracked and split and her face has an unusual tint to it that can’t mean anything healthy. 

He squats down next to her and debates how he wants to go about this. The wound on her stomach has only gotten worse since they started walking, it’s just looking angrier and angrier. With how infected it is, it’s possible that even a stimpak might not help her now. 

He could leave her here, get the bounty, and go on his merry way. He could shoot her, put her out of her misery and leave. Or he could throw her over his shoulder and walk the last hour to the compound, hoping that whatever they have there will help. No matter what choice he makes, it’s her life in his hands. 

His hand drifts forward, brushing the hair off her cheek and lingering on the soft skin there. He sighs before scooping her up and tossing her over his shoulder, she whines, her wound rubbing against his shoulder and probably causing her a heap of pain. It didn’t matter how much it hurt, though, as long as she was feeling something that was a good sign. 

“Nearly there, sweetheart,”; he muttered. He tuned into her shallow breathing, the long pauses before her next breath and let that be what keeps him going. She better not fucking die on him. He grunts, shifting her higher up on his shoulder and wrapping an arm around her legs. 

He could feel how hot she was through each layer of their clothing. This was more than just the sun, she seemed like she was about to combust. “Cooper,” she whimpers. He frowns, she’s been muttering to herself since they left the forest. Talking about things that weren’t possible. 

He’s seen it before, with infection or rad poisoning, the hallucinations start pretty early. Only problem is, he’s never met anyone who lasted as long as her. She should have been dead hours ago. He has no idea what’s keeping her going, but she better fucking hold onto it. 

You laughed, your dress swirling around your legs like a blooming red flower as he spun you through the room. His hand wrapped around your waist and he pulled you back into his chest. You smiled at him and he reached up to brush the hair out of your face. 

Sinatra’s smooth voice cracked and then began to stutter. You laughed again but Cooper just rolled his eyes and walked over to fix the record. You smoothed out your dress and sat down on his couch, reaching for his glass of whiskey on the table. 

You took a sip, hoping for some liquid courage, and regretted it. You’d momentarily forgotten your distaste for alcohol. You tried to fight the tickle in your throat but failed, you probably ruined your lipstick with how hard you started to cough. 

He walked over to you and chuckled, taking his glass from your hands and stealing a swig. “Can’t handle your liquor, honey?”

“I can,” you wiped your mouth and gave him a playful glare. “That just tastes absolutely disgusting.” He smiled and took a seat beside you, arm draped behind you. He crossed a leg over his knee and titled himself to face you. You found yourself taking a deep breath, trying to prepare yourself for the question you were going to ask.

“Everything alright?”

You glanced down at your dress and fiddled with the hem of it. “I know the divorce was finalized a few days ago,” Cooper looked away from you, his face hardening, and reached forward to place his glass back on the table. Your heart leapt into your throat at the way he slammed it down. Maybe this was a mistake. 

You know when Barb came over to pick up Janey yesterday they’d gotten into a fight. You didn’t know what exactly it was they fought about, you’re pretty sure it had to do with you. But it didn’t truly matter. She always found a way to rile him up. You’d been hoping that coming by tonight might make him feel a little better,  but he still seemed to have a residual tenseness to him. 

Bringing the divorce up after one of their fights isn’t smart. But you need to talk about this and he’s been avoiding the conversation for a while now. 

He ran a hand down his face and sighed, “What about it?” 

“I was just wondering what that means for us?”

He scoffed and glanced over at you. The look he’s giving you, you’re certain the fight was about you now. He’s never looked this angry with you, “For us?” You nodded and he shook his head, standing up and heading towards his room. “It doesn’t mean anything.” Your heart stuttered in your chest, eyes burning as he slammed the door to his room without another word. You let your head fall into your hands and took a few deep breaths. You knew you shouldn’t have asked that. 

“That was a mistake,” you muttered. 

“The hell are you telling yourself back there?” Your eyes peeled open and you frowned, you seemed to be looking at something that looked a hell of a lot like Cooper’s backside. You tilted your head to the side to find the world upside down and something stabbing repeatedly in your stomach. 

You clawed your way up Cooper’s jacket, shakily holding yourself up so you could stare down at him. “Settle,” he warns, like you’re a damn horse. 

“Put me down,” you mutter, weakly kicking out your feet and trying to get off of him. He just shakes his head and shoves you back down. You let him, not having much fight left in you anyway. 

“Just,” he pauses, “keep dreamin’,” the words seem to pain him and you wonder why. You don’t linger on it long, letting your head hang against his back before the world is going dark again. 

She keeps muttering Cooper in her sleep. He knows what she’s thinking about. Their old times together, when everything was just dandy and the world was as sweet as peaches. Well, he wasn’t some saint back then neither. He had his own problems, vices, same as any man. 

Only difference between then and now is that he doesn’t have to hide who he is. Doesn’t have to worry about the public’s opinion or how his job will be affected if he speaks his mind. Cooper’s no better than the Ghoul. 

He sighs, barely even believing himself. She whimpers in her sleep, the noise strangled and pained. He squeezes her leg, barely even noticing the action, in an attempt to bring some minute form of comfort. She never should have dived in front of that blade, it was stupid of her. 

Course, she couldn’t have known that he would have healed, it’s not like he ever told her that. But she shouldn’t have risked it anyway, he wasn’t worth her dying for.

He can see a large building about a mile ahead as he crests the ridge of the dune he’s walking on. The compound, nearly there. “Hold on,” he’s not sure who he’s talking to but it doesn’t matter. She’s made it this far, she’ll make it a few more minutes.

“Stop right there!” Only one armed guard comes out from behind the gate of the compound. He scoffs, fucking amateurs. He drops her to the ground at his feet with as much care as he can, which isn’t a lot. Slowly, he raises his hands as the guard approaches, the tip of his rifle pressing into the hardened skin of his chest. “State your business.”

Well, someone liked making themself feel important, he was gonna have a field day beating this boy black and blue. For now, he simply smiled at him, unbothered by the gun. “I’ve got a bounty to deliver.”

“Alright, hand it over.” He reached into his pockets and the boy’s trigger finger twitched dangerously. He pulled out the only thing they’d wanted from the body, dog tags, and held them out for the boy to take. He darted forward, trying to snatch them but he yanked them out of the guard’s grip. 

He lunged, wrapping a hand around the barrel of the rifle and yanking it out of the kid’s hands. He tucked the tags back in his pocket and pointed the barrel into the boy’s chest. His face blanched and he held up his shaky hands. “Not so big now, are you?” He kept the gun trained on him and leaned down to scoop her back up. 

She was just cognizant enough to wrap an arm around his shoulder, keeping herself steady. “My friend here needs help. So help me boy, I swear if you fight me, I’ll slaughter everyone in that fucking place and just take what I want.”

He poked the gun into the boy’s chest and he jumped away from him with a frightened little whimper. With a grin, he bullied him into unlocking the gate and leading the both of them inside. 

“Please-”

“Shut the fuck up and get me inside.” It didn’t take long, the kid seemed to be the only guard they had patrolling right now. He led the pair inside the compound and then shoved them inside a room. 

“Here, you can clean her up here.” Before he could say anything the boy was running down the hall and out of sight. He figured they didn’t have long before the rest of the compound was alerted to what was going on. 

He knew enough about the place to know they had a water purifier set up in the back and some odd little ditty they’d created to use water to generate power. Having a radiated ocean behind them was a lot more convenient than Cooper ever would have thought. 

“Alright,” he propped her up on the bed and threw the boy’s rifle to the side. “Wake up, darling,” her eyelashes fluttered but she didn’t move. He used his teeth to pull off one of his gloves and pressed a hand to her clammy head. Still burning up. He cracked his hand across her cheek, chuckling at the way her eyes flew open. 

“Come on,” he hoisted her up and shoved her towards the bathroom in the room. There were holes in the wall, the faucet was really a metal can with holes poked in it, but it was running water. Who was he to complain? He propped her up against the sink and cranked the odd lever in the wall. There was a loud rattling sound before water came pouring out of the rusted can. “Clean yourself up,” he muttered, closing the door behind him.

Barely a minute later he heard a loud crash and the sound of porcelain cracking. He ran back into the bathroom and found her half collapsed against the shower wall. What was left of the decrepit sink was broken on the ground, only the faucet sticking out of the wall. He sighed and looked over at her. 

“I fell,” she muttered, a million little cuts bleeding on her arms. 

He sighed and tugged his hat and gloves off, tossing them onto the bed outside. He came back in, pulling her away from the shower and straightening her up. She clung onto him, broken nails digging dully into his scarred arms. “Come on, sweetheart,” he tugged her shirt up, her arms slipping limply out of it. 

Her wound was practically festered by now, turning a color that he knew meant she didn’t have much time to waste. He undid the button of her pants and knelt down, hands dragging down her legs and pulling her pants with them. She stepped out, hands braced on his shoulders and tripped slightly. He grabbed her thighs, steadying her and stood back up. He wrapped an arm around her waist, stopping her from falling and leading her into the shower. 

She sighed as the tepid water hit her back and he grimaced at the brown water pouring off of her. Maybe he should have let her clean up in that lake. He didn’t do much to help her as she cleaned herself up, mainly just stood there and let her hold onto him so she didn’t hurt herself further. 

He cupped the back of her neck and helped her tilt her head back to clean out the rest of her hair. It was odd, being this close to her. Less because of how stark naked she was, and more because of just how vulnerable she was being. Like a deer rolling over and presenting its neck to a wolf. He could do anything to her, and she just let him hold her like this. 

She leaned forward, clearly tired after moving around so much. Her head fell into his chest and she wrapped her arms around him tighter. She sighed, “I love you, Cooper.”

He flinched, knowing this was just a part of her delirium. Having running water for once was probably just confusing her more, making her think she was right back home. He leaned forward, lips pressed against her forehead and brushing some hair back. “No you don’t, darling.”

There was a knock on the door and he was quick to draw his gun. The door opened and a middle aged woman flanked by two guards stood smiling at him. She took in the gun in his hand but seemed unbothered by it or the threat he posed. “I hear you two need some help.”

“Mhm,” he glanced at the guards behind her but they didn’t seem particularly interested in reaching for their weapons. The woman took her in from where she lay on the bed, panting and sounding like she was struggling to get her breaths in. “I have a bounty to turn in, figured part of my payment could be you giving us a Stimpak. Then, we’ll be out of your hair.”

She laughed and took a step further into the room. He stood up now, gun pointed towards her slightly. She ignored him and took a peek at the festering wound. “She’ll need a lot more than a Stimpak. We can clean her up, don’t worry.” He didn’t get a chance to argue before the guards were coming in. He stepped out of the way as they grabbed you by the arms and legs, hauling you out of the room. 

He made to follow them but the woman placed a hand on his chest. “Sylvie, I run the compound. The bounty?”

He sighed and fished the dog tags out of his pocket, passing them to her. He glanced out the door, trying to track the path they took you down. “She’ll be fine, trust me.”

He laughed and glanced over at her, “No offense, ma’am,” he says the title with a lack of respect that makes her brows furrow in irritation, “but if there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s not to trust anyone. No matter how pretty their promises are.”

She gave him a long look before smiling and motioning back towards the hall. “Follow me and we’ll go find her.”

They had a decent set up here. Not as nice as the vaults, clearly, but pretty good for surface dwellers. A decent supply of meds and rations, running water. Everything in the building might be run down or covered in mildew, with cracks in the wall, but it was better than the hovels he’d camped out in. 

They’ve got her set up on cot, a bag of Radaway hooked up to her arm and her hair braided away from her face. They had to cut out the stitches he’d sewed and open the wound back up to flush it out. She’d been patched back up and while the skin still looked irritated it seemed to be doing a lot better than before. 

He’d been keeping a close eye on her breathing and she’d finally stopped wheezing on every inhale. He figured another hour here and they could get the fuck out. These people were starting to bother him. Every half hour or so they would come in to check on her, the women would spray some water on her face and mutter something before running back out. 

He seemed to scare them, enjoying the way they would avoid meeting his eyes. But it wasn’t enough to keep them away from her. Their insistence should’ve had alarm bells going off in his head, but he was already preoccupied worrying about her. He didn’t even notice when Slyvie came to stand beside him. 

“She’ll be alright,” she tried to place a hand on his shoulder but the look he shot her had her stopping short. She cleared her throat uncomfortably and tucked her hands back behind her back. He gave her another long look before going back to staring at the girl on the bed. 

“We have a place for her here, if you’re interested.”

He scoffed, “Room for us, huh?” He let himself picture it for a moment. He wouldn’t fucking stay, of course, he couldn’t. There’s no way, after two hundred years of wandering, that he could be locked down to one decaying old building. Showers or no. But he could always come by to visit her, stay a few nights and then leave again. 

That’s assuming she’d even want him to visit. Didn’t matter, he’d come anyway. But, he couldn’t do that anymore. Couldn’t live that life even if it would be temporary. It just wasn’t in him. He stayed stagnant for too long and two hundred years of bloodshed and loss would drive him insane. 

Sylvie shook her head and frowned. “I’m sorry, I should have been more clear. We have room for her, you have to understand, without a steady supply of Radaway we can’t risk having a ghoul here.” She moved towards her and brushed some hair out of her face, “Think about it.” She walked out and he stared blankly at the cot. 

She shifted on the bed, face pained and mumbling something under her breath. Finally, her eyes fluttered open and she frowned. “Coop? What’s,” she trailed off, struggling to sit up and glancing around the room they were in. “What’s going on?”

“Relax, we’re at the compound.”

She rubbed her forehead and glared at him, “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

He swatted her leg and she recoiled, “No, smartass. Just relax, we’ll be out of here soon.” She nodded and leaned back against the pillows they’d given her. It was odd, finally seeing her clean again. He could see clearly just how tired she looked. It was in her eyes, mainly, a weariness towards the world that left her exhausted. 

He’s surprised she’s even made it this far without giving up. She’d been dealt some shit luck, but he supposed it was better she be exposed to how cruel the world was as quickly as possible. She groaned and her head flopped forward. 

“What’s wrong with you now?” 

“God,” she muttered, turning her face away from him and shaking her head. He huffed and sat up straight, glaring at the side of her face. 

“Talk,” he demanded, not in the mood for games. 

“I meant it,” she sounded pained, like the words had to be forced out. “I mean, I hate that I meant it, but I did.”

He rolled his eyes, “Meant what? You’re gonna have to be a little clearer than that, sweetheart.”

“What I said in the shower. I meant it. I haven’t stopped loving you, despite how much I want to. I don’t want to want you anymore, I don’t want that connection to the past to constantly be shoved down my throat.” She sighed and tugged at the braid they’d given her. “You’re cruel and mean and, fuck’s sake, you’ve shot me twice. But you’re also the only thing I’ve got left, and despite how much I want to, because trust me I do, I can’t let you go.”

He sighed and turned away from her. She was still tired, still a bit woozy from the fever. He could see the sweat on her forehead again and knew that whatever this was, was just drug induced. He couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t handle her wanting him like this again. 

Being around her already made him vulnerable enough. Whatever twisted connection he held to her now, would be nothing compared to letting her love him again. Two hundred years on his own and she thought she could just come barreling back into his life and everything would be lovely again?

No, that’s not how this world worked. Not anymore. 

He stood up and threw his bag over his shoulder. “Get back to sleep, we’ll leave soon.”

She sighed and sank back against the pillows, shivering as she did so. “You’ll be here?”

“Of course I will, sweetheart.” She nodded, eyes already drifting shut, and turned away from him. He let himself admire her, taking in her relaxed features and soft expression. She reminded him so much of before. Before the world went to shit and before he turned into what he is now. 

He could feel parts of him, the ones he’d buried a long time ago, come up around her. Twisted as they were, how he felt about her before still lingered somewhere within him. But he couldn’t afford the risk that they presented if he did let her back in. He wasn’t even sure she could fully handle him if he did. 

She’d nearly died about five times, most of them because of him, and she’d been up here for such a short time. She’d be better off without him. He walked towards the door, the spurs of his boots clicking against the tile of the floor. He found Sylvie lurking a few halls down and whistled, getting her attention. 

Sylvie turned to him with an expectant smile. “You got room?”

She nodded with an eager smile, “We do. And you’d be compensated, of course.” Before he could question what exactly she was paying him for she snapped her fingers and some guards approached. They handed him a bag that he quickly rifled through. Not only was there enough Radaway to last him at least a month, there was purified water and rations that would keep him going until the next bounty. 

She’ll be better off here. 

He tucked the bag away and smiled at Sylvie, “Pleasure doing business with you, ma’am.”

She gave him a lecherous grin, “You as well,” she nodded and the guards escorted him to the gate. He didn’t let himself look back, knowing he’d just want to go get her. At least now he didn’t have to constantly worry about saving her ass. 

He was better off on his own. Always had been, always would be. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the game/show Fallout, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[m4tthewmurd0ck]

IN EVERY UNIVERSE

── Azriel x Fem!Reader

(i try to be as non descriptive as possible but do use she / her, and mention reader being shorter than all the guys.)

CHAPTER ── INTRODUCTION

Ever since you were little, books have been your escape. Whether it was needing to get away from a bad day at school or an immature fight with a friend when you were a kid, or a rough day at work as you got older, reading allowed you to temporarily forget all of that.

You imagine what the characters might look like, you dream up scenarios for them that don’t happen in the books. And like so many others who do the exact same thing, you can’t help but wish characters were real so that they could sweep you off your feet. Ugh, what you wouldn’t give to have a certain one-armed super soldier call you doll.

You thought the MCU was where you wanted to exist the most… and then you were introduced to ACOTAR.

It didn’t take long at all for you to become another one of the many girls to fall for Azriel. You dreamt of what he might look like. And of course, knew he’d fall in love with you. Would you guys follow the enemies-to-lovers trope? Childhood best friends turned significant others? Or would it be a love-at-first sight moment for the shadowsinger, who would do everything in his power to get you to notice him? The answer depended on your mood, of course.

As much as you loved to fantasize, you also knew you had to be realistic. Azriel didn’t actually exist, at least not in your world.

One night, you even go so far as to convince yourself that all the hopeless dreaming had to stop. From that moment on, you’d still enjoy books, but you wanted to do your best to stop imagining a life for yourself in worlds you’d never get to visit.

It’s definitely easier said than done, but you go to bed that night confident that it’s the right thing to do.

Only, when you wake up the next morning… something is off. This isn’t your bedroom. The clothes you’re wearing, you’ve never seen before. And why does the man that has just entered your room look exactly like how you pictured Azriel?

TAGLIST FOR THIS SERIES ONLY ── if you requested to be tagged and your name isn’t clickable, it means i wasn’t able to tag you! also sorry to anyone who might’ve gotten their hopes up thinking this tag mean i posted it, but i promise it’s coming sometime this week! this is just so i’m able to keep track of who asked to be tagged.

@namelesssav | @cinnamoodles | @orphicmeliora | @flowerprincezz | @blushingfawnsposts | @kylaisra | @princessbelleinthetardis | @msoldier | @ccacotartoglover | @vickykazuya | @thecourtofnightmaresanddreams | @mirandasidefics

TAGLIST FOR ALL THINGS AZRIEL ──

@bakananya | @thisiskaylin | @saltedcoffeescotch | @melmo567 | @chelsiemp | @lilah-asteria | @r0sluvs | @imagoddessinmystories | @sandramalikstyles-blog | @minnieoo | @durgenyx

IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE ADDED TO THIS SERIES TAGLIST, LET ME KNOW! (you can specify just this series, or all things Azriel)

[highvern]

Track 9: Feature Me - Flo

“He's got me actin' like I'm some kind of animal // The way he looks at me, I don't feel like a girl no more”

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x fem!Reader

Genre: smut

Warnings: Katoptronophilia, exhibitionism, pussy slapping, Mingyu is a huge tease, brat!reader, fantasy of choking, sex toys (vibrator)

Length: ~800

Note: i know i said this came out tomorrow but this is my world and i do what i want! also i wrote this before nana tour revealed shirtless gyu with a chain but now that that's out there im down stupendously (as if I wasn't already)

Like, comment, reblog, enjoy!

Mixtape Series: Me & You Masterlist

main masterlist

This blog is intended for 18+ only! MDNI or you'll be blocked!

“I told you to watch.” Mingyu rasps in your ear, free hand harsh against your chin as he drags your head back up.

The mirror resting against the wall across from your bed frames a scene of complete debauchery. Mingyu’s head just visible over your shoulder, captivated with every jump of your tummy and gasp of breath as he forces the pink vibrator against your clit on the highest setting; encouraging him to force your legs wider to enjoy the show.

Mingyu loved watching you touch yourself, loved having you watch him touch himself, and most of all loved touching you. So why not combine all those things and put on a performance worthy of a never-to-be invited audience?

Not an hour ago you’d been embarrassed. Batting away your boyfriend's hands as Mingyu recounted the video he found on Twitter. Whispering how hot you'd look spread out for him, practically begging for you to let him get you off in front of the mirror he already moved from the hallway to the corner of the bedroom.

And now you sit, completely naked while he remains fully clothed underneath you, the stiff material of his jeans rubbing your bare skin raw each time you squirmed in his arms, your knees hitched on the outsides of his thighs, preventing any sort of shyness at his affection.

“Please, Gyu,” you gasp, drool leaking down your chin as his arms flex with effort to keep you still.

Ignoring your request, Mingyu angles the vibrator just so; leaving your chest caving and muscles ripped tight. “Need it so bad, don’t you pretty girl? Just look at you humping my hand.”

“Say that like—shit!— you aren’t about to cream your pants.” You bite back.

A stinging slap to your pussy nearly sends you to the floor, hips bucking into the contact. The now forgotten vibrator buzzes across the carpet while Mingyu harshly swipes against your clit. 

“Aww, baby.” Mingyu tuts. “Be nice.”

Voice cracking, you goad him again. “Or what?”

Another slap answered with a sob and Mingyu smiles over your shoulder, pinching your chin between his fingers and forcing your head to turn towards his. You can feel the residual dampness from earlier smear across your jaw and your boyfriend delights in the mess; eyes igniting with glee that only spells trouble for you. 

“Wanna come?”

Whine as he brushes his nose against your own, his mouth just out of reach causing you to warble with protest. Your back shakes with Mingyu's laughter at the pathetic state you’ve melted into, turning your head back to the mirror.

You’re a mess; eyes red and watering and body glistening with sweat. And where Mingyu works you is no better; blossoming pink around the thumb abusing your swollen bundle of nerves, your opening sucking up his fingers eagerly.

“Please!” 

You don’t know what you’re begging for. Maybe to finish like this on his fingers; maybe for him to unzip his pants, slip his cock inside, and have you ride him; maybe for the hand gripping your chin to dip to your neck and giving a loving squeeze while he lavishes you in praise. 

But Mingyu knows exactly what you need.

The inside of your thighs burn with warning, both of Mingyu's strong hands dropping to get you to the end. Your thighs attempt to shutter close at the shock but the man behind you forces you wide open to drink in everything.

A third finger joins the other two curling against that place inside you and Mingyu's ears ring with the guttural moan they press from your lips. Vision black, your soul flees into the abyss in an effort to preserve your sanity because Mingyu doesn’t stop. Even when you thrash in his lap, his teeth and hands force you in place, making you take what he offers freely.

It isn't until the blood returns to your brain that you find the strength to bat away the hand still wedged between your thighs.

“Shhhhit,” you gasp.

Mingyu’s lips stretch into a smile. Pampering reverent kisses anywhere within reach while you catch your breath. He silently adores the way you melt in his hold, mouth slack and eyes dropping.

“Good?”

With a final peck to his lip you begin your descent. Sinking onto boneless knees, Mingyu follows you with confused eyes, eyebrows furrowed as you unzip his jeans. Arching your back, you know he can see the remnants of your orgasm dripping onto the floor beneath you if he took the time to look up. But he's trained on your doe eyes and the shrinking distance between your mouth and his cock and misses the motion of your free hand cradling the long forgotten vibrator.

Mingyu's so sensitive he nearly knees you in the tit when you press it to the underside of his leaking tip with a sadistic smile.

“Eyes on the mirror, baby.”

-

Taglist: @tomodachiii @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @cvpidyunho

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[upsidedownwithsteve]

A message.

I’d like to start by saying once more (due to it being the cause of so many hateful messages) that I support Palestine.

I donate to charities that fund several of the organisations that help and I use my business in the best way I can to give my services for free to fundraisers that also raise money for these causes. Shy of showing you my personal bank statements and private emails between myself and my clients, I don’t have any ways of showing this on tumblr.

I have several social media platforms, I have a business that I run, I have friends and family I talk to, I have an entire life off of this website. I choose to use tumblr to post my writing and for the most part, it’s become a really important space for me. Writing is one of the few things I truly do for myself. I enjoy it immensely and it can really bring me a lot of peace.

I choose not to blog anything other my writing, other people’s writing and general fandom related things on my blog because I like to keep it as that small space for myself and one of the things I love most. I understand wholly that that is a privilege in itself and I will not shy away from that fact.

However, I will not condone being hunted for the choices I make. For the vast majority of you, I am a stranger online and no one, absolutely no one, knows what I do off of this website. I won’t allow anyone to judge me on what they don’t see and don’t understand.

The size of my following was not a choice I made, it was not something I deliberately aimed for and it was not something I tried hard to make sure I achieved. It wasn’t the goal of this blog. I don’t deem myself capable of “influencing” anyone in anyway. I’m a fanfiction writer. I’m not a politician, I don’t claim to be the most educated person on political and worldwide matters. I simply would like to believe that everyone tries to help in anyway they can. I know not everyone has the financial means to donate and instead they choose to raise awareness in other ways - that’s absolutely okay.

But I - and others - do not have to follow the rule book someone else deemed law. You see, I gave my views and reasons and it wasn’t good enough. And now, if I chose to reblog certain things, I’m pretty sure I’d be dragged for being performative, or “back tracking.” I fear that with some people, who like to hide behind an anonymous button, I cannot win. Despite an argument revolving around real life issues, I think I can safely say it came across as a very personal attack.

As other people have mentioned before, I also don’t enjoy the idea of writing smut and happy ever after’s about our favourite fictional men and then reblogging the death of others in real life straight after. I know that’s the world right now. I’m aware. I read articles, I watch the news, I follow accounts on Twitter, on Instagram and I try and keep myself as up to date and as educated as possible. I just don’t show that on this one platform.

As many of you know, I do run my own business. I’m also five months pregnant. I’m definitely experiencing more stress than I usually do. I’m very happy and enjoying my pregnancy immensely but I struggled with sickness and tiredness for the majority of it so far. Whats to come in the next four months and beyond fills me with excitement and anxiety and nerves. Coming onto tumblr and writing about fiction is a little reprieve from that - again, a privilege I am so aware of.

But I won’t be tolerating any more hateful messages, I won’t be arguing with anyone. I’m not lowering myself to it. You can talk about me passively aggressively, you can choose to hate me, that’s fine. I’m happy blocking people and moving on. Anons will be off indefinitely, it’s been proven that too many people are willing to hide behind them. After the messages regarding myself and my unborn child, quite frankly, there’s not a lot of trust left when it comes to knowing how far people will sink.

I’ve said all I’d like to say on the matter, I’ve told people where I stand, my views on the genocide that is occurring, what I’m able to do about it in my personal life and why I choose to keep this particular space the way I do.

I hope everyone can try to understand and respect that. If you don’t, that’s fine, that’s your prerogative. I don’t go out of my way to challenge, or police, or demand things from people I do not know. I hope that no one thinks that they have the right to do that to myself and others. I’m under no obligation to follow someone else’s rules.

I don’t know what the future holds for this blog, pregnancy and real life is very much taking priority over writing at the moment, but I do like to try when I can. I can’t lie either, the messages and their content that I received really left me feeling dejected and frustrated, this fandom really has turned into something rather poisonous. I’d like to be able to rise above it and in the mean time, even if I’m not always present, I’d like people to be able to access the stories I worked really hard on.

Thank you for reading,

Emmy 🧡

[csuitebitches]

I really enjoy your blog and was wondering if you have advice on one of my biggest mental blocks. I'm 23 but struggle to feel like an adult and being independent deeply scares me even through I want to be "chasing my dreams". I've lived with my close knit family my whole life and still spend a lot of time with my parents. I'm almost going to move away(in the next year) and so I've began the process of getting a car/saving money, etc. But then I find myself subtly sabotaging these efforts because the idea of being alone/moving away also terrifies me. I really want to experience moving to a city and working and traveling and doing things I want and at this point I'm finding it draining being my parents "stay-at-home-daughter". But I also get anxiously sick when I try a push myself for more independence. I've put so much on hold going through school and then living in my home town w. parents and it's kind of scary to imagine dating (never prioritized men + parents didn't let me date in highschool= never had a bf or anything) or living alone even though I'd love to have the experience. Any advice would be greatly appreciated. Basically I still feel like a 15 year old when it comes to my personal life and that feels a bit shameful.

I want to tell you that we all feel what you feel. You’ll only ever feel like an adult when you’ve exposed yourself to the outside world, regardless of whether you can handle it or not.

independence scares you because it’s unfamiliar territory. Often when we look at people who are independent and on their own two feet, they seem to have a sense of self identity, purpose and responsibilities to handle.

I’m always in favour of people moving out of their parents homes for a couple of years at least (the culture where I come from also emphasises on the whole family living together and there’s no move out at the age of 18 concept) because I see the pros and cons of both situations of living in/ out of your parents home.

No book, YouTube video, friends’ experiences will teach you about being an adult. You have to step out and experience it yourself.

Start doing exposure therapy. Basically, slowly, bit by bit, immerse yourself into the traditional adult experiences.

I’ll give you examples. Understand fully how your insurance works. Keep all your medical records in both a physical and a digital file.

Understand how your car functions as a product - which means guarantees, warranties, insurance, emergency numbers, mechanics nearby, etc.

Start tracking all your spending expenses, even if you’re using your parents money at the moment. The earlier you start this habit, the better. Create a monthly budget for yourself and stick to it.

Start doing your own laundry in the house and learn that not all clothes go in the washing machine, some go for dry cleaning etc.

Make it a goal to learn to cook at least 5 dishes properly before you leave. If your parents are good cooks, ask them to teach you or go to every introvert’s favourite site, YouTube.

Pretend that your room is a mini apartment and try to keep it clean at all times.

Start socialising more. Not just with known friends. Sign up for a random hobby class like a book club or a running club where you can meet more people. Yes it’ll be difficult, yes you’ll have moments of awkwardness but don’t give up after just one meeting - go and meet new people to get used to the idea of interacting with strangers.

You can’t rush into feeling like an adult. It takes time. Exposure therapy is the best way to get into it. The more responsibility you can healthily shoulder, even if you fail at times, you’ll still start feeling more confident.

We weren’t born with the knowledge of car tire changing mechanics, insurance, cooking or tidying up. We had to learn them as we grew up. It’s perfectly alright to not know how to do something. The beauty of living in today’s world is that the answer to nearly every question is one google search away.

[moonchildxoxx]

Hello!! Mind if I request a lo'ak fluff? Where he visits reader who is a painter and cute stuff happens? Thank you~!! 🩵🩵🩵🩵

All my better days are the ones spent with you.

A/N:Hi alright this is my first request and I hope you like it , since you didn’t say I hope it was okay that it Lo’ak x fem Human! Reader ps: I also looked at your blog and saw you don’t like (Y/N)so I used a nickname for the reader for this on Word count: 1328

[ Request are open ]

Master List

Rules

You sat in alcove in what they had deemed high camp , you were crushing different plants to make pain. Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of clicking beads as someone walked closer then you heard the familiar voice . “Tiny!... there you are, we've been looking all over for you. You can’t just leave!“ Lo’ak huffed sitting next to you.

You rolled your eyes playfully, turning to look at him “ Lo , I never left, we're still at high camp if you haven’t noticed “ you moved closer to him but continued to crush the plants to make the paint. Lo’ak lifted you without a warning placing between his crossed legs `` What are you doing tiny “ he asked you as you continued your work once you got comfortable. “ what does it look like you skxawng?” You tease him.

He rolled his eyes poking you in the side . “ Fine then, why are you making paint there’s nothing planned for the next few weeks' ' he asked . "It's not war paint Lo, I’m gonna use it to paint something on the walls. I overheard your dad talking to the others about how this space was gonna be a place to teach the kids. an, I thought they’d enjoy it a bit more if it looked like the forest instead of the bland black walls of the cave.” You explain to him well looking up from the bowls.

He smiles at you before moving aside the bowls “ that sounds great , but come on it’s almost evening meal, you can start tomorrow tiny “ . He takes you off his legs before getting up and grabbing your hand leading you away and back to the center of high camp .

The next day you got up early to start your work, since you were a human it was much easier to slip away and nobody would notice. Once you got started you lost track of time . the next thing you knew Lo’ak was standing next to you looking at your work. He opened his mouth to speak but the words got caught in his throat. “ Tiny ….. Did you do this all today? He asked you while looking at the mural. You had painted most of the background, the only thing that was missing was the sky and the mountains. ‘ yea … i just gotta finish the sky and the mountains for the background but i can't reach so i have to find a way to get up there.` you told him as you turned to him. Lo’ak looked like he was thinking , before he got smile on his face. “ I think I can help with that tiny.” Lo’ak moved behind you before grabbing you from behind and place you on his shoulders . “LO’AK!!” you exclaimed quickly grabbing onto his head to keep balance. He chuckled, holding onto your legs . “ what? … is this too high? “ he asked in a teasing tone.

" N-no … it’s perfect but you really gotta give me a warning when you manhandle me” he handed you the paint for the sky and then grabbed the one for the mountains. You both painted in silence until Lo’ak started to tell you about that day's training . You hummed in response when needed but otherwise let him fill the silence. Before you noticed it was almost time for evening meal . you both cleaned up before calling it a night.

That's how the next few days passed, you getting up early slipping away or rushing through your chores. Lo’ak joining you later in the day after his Training or chores. He’d bring food for you both to eat together before helping you or just sitting and keeping you company.

On the fourth day of you guys doing this. Lo’ak had brought you a new pigment to try. ‘ Hey Tiny I got something for you”. He walked up next to you showing you a black pigment . you turned up to look up at him smiling at him “ Lo this is perfect for shading”. You make a motion for him to get to your level, he kneels down facing you so you're both at the same eye level. You leaned forward giving him a kiss on the cheek . you had grabbed the bowl and turned to add the water that you had missed his ears pinning back against his skull and the slight purple tint to his cheeks.

You had turned back towards him grabbing his hand pulling him along with you to show him the process of making shadows to make it 3-D. You gave him the bowl so he could try for himself. Once he had finished what you had told him to do he gave you back the bowl with the black paint. You continued to paint, he stood watching you leaning against the wall laying his hand to support himself. You heard him take a sharp inhale and move away from the wall like it burned him. You quickly tuned to look to see what happened. Lo’ak stood there looking at his hand before looking down at the floor his ears pinned back and his tail slowly wiping around. You saw the hand covered in black paint and instantly knew what had happened. You walked over to the paints and dipped your hand in white paint. Walking over to the mural you placed your hand right within the large five fingered hand print making one of you own within it. He looked up as he saw you moved forward ready to apologize for having ruined your work. You turned back to look at him smiling. “ There I think it looks much better, don’t you think?” you ask him. He looked kinda shocked at you, his ears stood up again and his tail stopped moving instead curling around his leg. “ Y-yea it does “ he answered slowly, still a bit unsure of your reaction.

You put the paint bowl down “ come on let's clean up and we can finish up tomorrow” you both went to wash off the paint. He stopped you from leaving “ you wanna go flying for a bit since we finished early today” he asked looking down at you. You nodded, slipping your hand into his.

The next day you had woken up alongside the first rays of light. You had quickly done your chores around the lab. making your way to the out alcove you were shocked to find Lo’ak already waiting for you since he always showed up after midday. You smile at him “ somebody’s early “ you tease him gently “ yea, well since we're almost done i thought i’d show up early today …. Come on Tiny daylights a wasting” you both spend the day adding finishing touches when you were almost done you got a lsat minute idea. “ Lo’ak ? … you think you can give me a boost again” you asked looking up at him . he nodded gently before picking you up and placing you on his shoulders like the first day. You added an ikran to the sky of the mural you lent too much to the side, suddenly losing your balance. Letting out a squeak as you feel yourself falling Lo’ak moves as well try to keep balance cussing you both to fall into all the dirty paint bowls. You wipe the paint away from your eyes turning to Lo’ak you see he's covered in paint to trying to clean some off his tongue. You couldn't help yourself and just started to laugh . Lo”ak looked down at you hearing you laugh also made him laugh as well “ we look like Ikrans “ he huffed out before he got himself up and then pulled you up as well. "We should go bathe, “ you tell him, wiping more paint away from your face. He grabbed your hand “ yea , but one thing first.” he kneeled down so you were eye level once again and gently grabbed your cheek. He moved in cloning the space between you pressing his lips to yours.

© Moonchildxoxx 2023 | all rights reserved. do not republish, repost, steal, modify, translate or claim my work as your own.

[thebettybook]

On Your Mark…Get Set…Itto!!!

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About: Racing Driver Itto AU headcanons. Racing Driver Itto is also gn!reader’s boyfriend.

Photo and border credits: Itto art from HoYoFair on Twitter. Kaomoji borders from “Emoji Combos” website.

Warnings: None, all fluff and crack headcanons, enjoy :D

Special note: Woke up and saw the new HoYoFair art of Itto, and now Racing Driver Itto is living in my mind rent-free :’)🫶

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🏁 Racing Driver Itto got into racing after he watched Cars *one* time. He claims that Lightning McQueen is his role model.

🏁 Racing Driver Itto, in all seriousness though, has never seen a professional Oni racing driver before. He’s the first, and he feels a strong sense of responsibility to represent all the Oni out there and show the world how proud he is to be an Oni.

🏁 Racing Driver Itto is the type to name his race car “Petunia” or something equally wholesome. He got the race car at a junkyard and spent days and nights fixing up the car. Itto painted his race car in all colors of the rainbow, and decorated his race car with string lights (he had to take off the string lights because he wasn’t allowed to race with them).

🏁 Racing Driver Itto can barely afford car maintenance and even gas, so when he’s not racing, he’s working odd jobs here and there in Inazuma to make more Mora to support his racing endeavors. The Arataki Gang, even Shinobu, also pick up odd jobs because they want to help Itto.

🏁 Racing Driver Itto, who’s also your boyfriend, calls you his good luck charm. Sure, he has his prized Onikabuto plushie in his race car at all times, but Itto truly believes that he won’t have a good race if he doesn’t get a kiss (or two, or three) from you before the race.

🏁 Racing Driver Itto always says “Psh, I’ll be fine” whenever you tell him to be careful on the tracks and to not do any reckless stunts while racing. While it doesn’t seem like he’s listening, Itto takes your words to heart because he never wants to make you worried.

🏁 Racing Driver Itto thinks he’s the luckiest Oni in the whole wide world when he sees you in the stands as you wave a poster you made for him. Every race, you’d be there with his Arataki Gang, and all of you would make sure to be the loudest in the stands to cheer Itto on.

🏁 Racing Driver Itto, before the start of every race, always makes sure to dramatically comb back his hair with a black comb he keeps in his pocket.

🏁 Racing Driver Itto has never won a race, but he’s determined to win one someday. He’s competitive by nature, and he has the drive to excel at anything he sets his heart and mind to.

🏁 Racing Driver Itto is the type to adorably yell “Look, Granny! I’m on TV!” when a cameraperson aims their camera at him. During interviews, he’ll always talk about Granny Oni, you, and the Arataki Gang.

🏁 Racing Driver Itto, despite appearing confident, is surprised when he learns that so many people in Inazuma are cheering him on: the kids he’s played games with, their parents, and even the Tenryou Commission! The Tenryou Commission is just glad that Itto’s not up to his usual shenanigans on the streets of Inazuma now that he’s more busy being a racing driver.

🏁 Racing Driver Itto, when he finally chooses to listen to Coach Ayato’s advice, ends up winning a race for the first time. “I WON? I WON! BOOYAH, BABY! Look out world! Arataki Itto, the Numero Uno Racing Driver, is here to stay!” Before Itto can jump up and down in joy, the Arataki Gang is already lifting him up and throwing him in the air. Once they let Itto down, he catches sight of you. Without warning, Itto lifts you up and twirls you around. He feels like the king of the world, even more so when he finally puts you down and you tackle him with hugs and kisses.

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Important:

🍓 I don’t own any of the characters I mention or write about; they belong to their original and respective creators.

🍓 All content on this blog is created by me, @thebettybook (excluding posts I reblog that aren’t my own posts and unless I state otherwise). Do not modify, claim, repost, or translate my work onto this platform and any other platform.

🍓 Reblogs are appreciated :).

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[seijorhi]

hey rhi 👋

I’ve been watching a lot of zombie shows lately (ex: the walking dead, last of us, all of us are dead, world war z, zombieland etc. etc)

And while watching all those shows, they always managed to remind me about your zombie fic ‘finders keepers’ which would then lead me to wonder and boil with questions. So if you don’t mind and if it doesn’t trouble you too much, I would like to ask a couple of things ….

1. How did the apocalypse start?

2. When it did start, were they at school and just so happen to group up? Or did they join forces in a different manner?

3. While oikawa and the reader were taking shelter, where were the others?

4. When the reader went out to search for supplies for oikawa, we know the twins were following her, but what were they doing out in the first place?

5. (I might be a lil slow for this, but) Which of the twins killed the zombie, Atsumu or Osamu?

6. Why does inarizaki take in ‘strays’ and what do they do to them? And what do they do once the strays in question want to leave their group?

7. For how long did the twins have eyes for the reader?

8. How far along are they into the apocalypse?

9. How come no one seems concerned with reuniting with family or loved ones?

10. What’s the initial reaction from the inarizaki group when they see that the twins brought the reader to their base?

Well I think that’s all my questions… hopefully. But I know for damn sure that if an apocalypse were to actually happen that I’d be like the reader utterly useless and helpless (but unlike her I won’t have any strong and beautiful men to help or protect me 😔)

I would also probably opt out 😭 (people in zombie shows always have so much will to live and for what?!?!?).

Anyways, I always enjoy seeing your blog and reading yours answers to questions asked by us. I love how I’ll be doing anything in my day, and something (no matter how small it is) will remind me of one of your many glorious fics.

I hope you have a wonderful week and thank you for reading. (Stay hydrated and blessed babe 😏.)

(((o(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)o)))♡

- 🌬️🌫️

okay bear with me

i like to go with pharmaceutical fuck up/virus/pandemic thing à la 28 days later or the walking dead

nah, they were friends before it hit, but even pre-apocalypse it wasn't intended to be a volleyball specific thing

well technically it depends. prior to oikawa being bitten they were on a supply run. in the aftermath, they would've gone back to the school, found it overrun and depending on your own personal choice, either found themselves at the wrong end of a zombie's teeth, or they're trying to track oikawa and the reader down after escaping themselves

following :))

whichever one you think. truly i wrote it and left it ambiguous because 1) the reader couldn't see shit and couldn't determine it herself and 2) it could honestly have been either of them and i found it funnier that way. go with whatever your heart tells you

i like to think that inarizaki actually have more of a 'community'. small, but not just a bunch of guys. considering that there's food, medicine, a fuck-ton of guns and men willing to use them, they're usually pretty happy to stay. loyal enough to look the other way when it becomes clear the reader isn't going to be able to just waltz out the front gate like she thinks

inarizaki (or the core members) were aware that a few people were holing up in the school, weren't too concerned about it. more of a 'keep an eye on it and see if it becomes a problem' kind of sitch. they didn't know that group included a woman, not with how anal the others were about keeping the reader safe and tucked away from prying eyes. it was pure luck that the twins caught sight of her during a patrol, a little while before iwa and the other two left and zombies found their way inside. funny that.

somewhere between 6-12 months. long enough for the world to go to shit and for people to become adjusted to that. sort of

mostly because they either saw their family and loved ones die or they believe the chances they're still alive are slim enough not to pin hopes and dreams on. also in the reader's case because even if she had plans of meeting up/looking for someone, they'd put that shit to bed real quick

honestly i think kita would want to disapprove, but how can he? yes the twins were reckless and yes they should have discussed this together beforehand so they could have planned this, but he can't and won't argue with the end result. the reader wasn't safe where she was, now she is. she'll have access to things she was woefully lacking previously, the twins are satisfied, it's the best solution all round. thanks in no small part to how seijoh 4 treated her, there's no chance she'd survive out there on her own. such a sweet, vulnerable, helpless little thing, how could the rest of them not just want to eat her right up? they are ofc unsurprised by the twins pulling some bullshit, but hey, no one (they care about) died right? win-win.

[bunnysficsnstuff]

Act 3 Baby! Polyam!Ghostface {Billy&Stu} X Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 1382

AN: Hey yall!! This is just a fluffy thang I wrote bc I have Polyam Ghostface brain rot rn :D Thanks and Enjoy!

It had been 2 weeks since the first murder, it was a tragedy to the sleepy town of Woodsboro. On the other hand, it had been eight days since you started getting unannounced visits from the killing team. They’re always in their costumes and they never let you see them without the mask but, you figured out that they were not the same person quite quickly. They were similar heights and statues but, they had way different personalities, even with the voice modulator through the phone you could always tell which was which. The first ghostface that came barreling through your window was rougher with you. Don’t get him wrong, he cares so deeply for you but, you’re his, he should be able to do what he pleases with his things. He has always been very possessive over you, it seems like the only other person he will let get near you is ghostface #2. He, the second ghostface, is so soft and gentle with you. If he wasn’t a masked killer you would think that he could never hurt a fly. The second ghostface also seems to trust you more, when he comes to visit you he’s not as strict about keeping the robe on, moreso just the mask. He will let you treat any wounds he contracts and has also made a habit of sleeping next to you during his visits. He always puts a sleeping mask over your eyes before taking the mask off to fall asleep but, even if he didn’t you would never dream of betraying the hard earned trust from the pair. 

The team has never seemed to get jealous of one another, you have only been visited by both at the same time twice but, they seemed as happy to be with the other as they were to be with you in those moments. Even when you were with only one half of your beloveds, they never got annoyed or jealous if you would ask about the other or want to know how their wounds are healing. It is a bit hard to connect with the pair in person, they can’t talk to you for fear of having their identities revealed so conversations are tricky to get the hang of. It usually turns into ghostface pointing at something in your room or seeing something on your phone and having you talk about or explain it to them. Neither of them seem to mind this barrier, they love listening to you gush about all your interests, especially when you get into one of your true crime spirals. Truth is, they found you from a post you made about them. You had a secret blog online, tracking the killings, the pattern, possible motives, you were a total fangirl. They decided they needed a fan like you in the circle in case there were any hitches in the plan, and there were. It started off as cryptic and albeit flirty phone calls and then it turned into midnight visits and sleepovers.

Tonight you got a phone call from No Caller ID. Your heart flutters when you read the words on your screen knowing one of your boys will be on the other end. You clear your throat before adjusting yourself upright in your bed and answering the call.

“Hello?” You ask innocently

“Hello, bunny” The raspy voice coos

Your heart skips a beat at the words. You try your best not to be clingy with your lovers but, you worry deeply about them, especially after all the near misses they’ve patched up in your bathroom.

“How are my favorite reapers?” You ask

“This one’s better now that he’s talkin to you” He pauses for a moment 

“Look bun, we’re wrapping up the big show tonight…” He trails off. Even with the voice changer you can tell that he's anxious about it

“Okay…What about it?” you ask 

“We want you to be there…” He pauses “The other one knows how interested you are in our…work, and he suggested that you could help.”

There's dead air on the line, you have dreamed of seeing the boys at work and now they want you to be a part of it. You must have been quiet for too long daydreaming because he cuts in again,

“Only if you want bunny, we just thought you may be interested” He anxiously explains

“Oh! No! I mean, Yes!! Yes I would love to be there!” You squeal out.

“Alright, it’s all going down at Stu’s house party. We’ll be at your house in 15 to pick you up” He says

“What? What about the masks?” you ask, they’d never get away with driving around in the get up.

“No masks, No costumes, We trust you bun” He says softly.

Your face goes warm and pink at the words, “Okay! I’ll be ready in 10!” You practically scream.

You search through your closet for what feels like forever before deciding on a black off the shoulder dress with lacey bell sleeves, it feels just ghostface-y enough for the boys to get the reference but not too much that it screams “I’m fucking the killers!!” You throw some first aid supplies in your purse in preparation for the festivities and wait patiently on your bed. 

Soon enough you hear wrestling near your window. You turn around facing away from their entrance as you hear the killers climb in. You’re basically shaking in anticipation as you hear the footsteps walk up behind you. You feel a set of hands snake around your waist and another set move your hair away from your neck to make room for his lips to connect with the sensitive skin. You feel the hands round your waist slowly spin you around as the other set lets go of your hair. When you’ve spun around you’re almost afraid to make eye contact with them staring at the ground. You feel a hand grab your chin and slowly lift your face to meet theirs, “What’s the matter bunny, shy?” His voice is smooth and thick. When you make eye contact with him you realize, Ghostface 1 is Billy Loomis. 

You feel the other man wrap one hand around your waist and the other cup your face, “Surprise, darling” the other man says, When you meet his gaze you recognize Ghostface 2 as Stu Macher. You’re a little stunned to say the least but, a few moments after their faces settle into your brain you practically jump into Stu’s chest and crash your lips into his. You pull away and reach out to Billy pulling him close to you and Stu, connecting with his lips just as hard. There are small tears prickling in your eyes as a wave of happiness washes over you. They’re finally all yours, they trust you and you trust them. 

Billy pulls away from the two of you, “We have a present for you bun” He says gesturing to Stu. Stu gently pushes you off of him and reaches into his back pocket. He pulls out a familiar looking object. You stare at it in disbelief, taking it out of Stu’s hands. You pull the handle of the object out of its sheath, it’s one of their knives. You gawk at the reflective metal holding it tightly, as if it would disappear just like Stu and Billy used to disappear out your window in the night. You look up at the boys with doe eyes “Thank you so much” you say softly.Billy takes the knife and sheaths it for you before attaching it to a garter under your dress.

“You look beautiful darling” Stu says as he watches Billy fasten the blade to you.

“God damn right she does” Billy says patting your thigh once the blade is secure “She's our pretty girl”

You blush at all the compliments you’re being showered in, “Thank you boys” You say softly.

“Well sweetheart, you ready for act three?” Billy asks, a grin snaking across his face

“I was born ready baby!” you say 

“Lets fucking go baby!” Stu yells, sticking his tongue out.

For the first time ever, Ghostface guides you out of your window on your way to play your role in their movie, and you wouldn’t change it for anything.

[skylathescholarly]

The Terrible Fire of Old Regret (fic under the cut)

A One Hundred Days to Become a Wayne (by @maccreadysbaby) story

TW: Child abuse, violence, panic attacks

So! If you follow the lovely @maccreadysbaby, you may find a thread where we both shouted at each other (in a good way) over this lil oneshot. If you haven't read their fics, you can find the first installment here, and if you love the Batfam you need to read it. You'll also need to in order to understand this, haha. But anyway! Most of the dialogue is taken straight from her story. It covers chapter 1-3 in 100 Days (plus some stuff I made up that doesn't happen in the original, but is implied to have happened) and is Dick's POV of chapter 7-8 in 100 Days. Chapter title from Bitter Water by the Oh Hellos. Hope you enjoy!!

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Dick swung through the streets, reveling in the swing and release of his grappling hook. It was good to get out and clear his head. He’d been having a weird feeling lately, like something was coming. 

It was probably nothing. They were tracking a new metahuman, those cases always got on his nerves. It was dangerous for metas in Gotham, and they also really didn’t need to be adding to their Rogue gallery anytime soon. 

“No. It’s… I don’t know. It’s like all of these reporters are scared of her for no reason. None of them point back to anything she’s done, all the photographs are of her just… walking around.” Barbara said over the comm.

“Then how do they even know she’s a metahuman?” Dick asked. 

“I don’t know, I’m looking into it,” Barbara replied. “Facial recognition software pinged her on the Northern outskirts of Gotham. Nightwing, you’re closest, but I’m sending her coordinates to everyone. Stay sharp.”

“Always am,” Dick grinned.

“Lots of these reports say they saw her in a dream-like state before they ever saw her in person. One from the blog Drew Confidential says: I’d never seen the girl before in my life, until I fell asleep that night. I could hear her voice and see her botched face. It was like I could feel her in my head, and I knew she had to be stopped. I didn’t know, however, that I would see her, yellow hood tugged over her head, walking right by my office building the next day. I knew her name without ever speaking a word to her — Secret Keeper. Several of the first hand accounts talk about dreams coming first, and then seeing her for real.”

“Okay, weird. I’m just going to be busy walking elderly people across the road.” Steph cut in. Dick smirked at the comment, but quickly returned his attention to the task at hand. 

“She’s moving to the East, Nightwing. Slowly — looks like she’s just walking down the street. Keep your head on your shoulders.” Barbara instructed. 

“Gotcha.”

“Red Robin, standby to assist,” 

“Standing by,” Tim replied.

Dick silently followed Barbara’s directions. Secretly, he had to agree with Steph. What the eyewitness had described was more than a little creepy. The creepy parts of the night job were always the worst. 

“Oracle, I’m closing in on her position,” Dick updated the Cave. He hoped Bentley wouldn’t watch if it got to be too much. The kiddo didn’t need any more trauma than he already had. Anything to keep him out of the field. Maybe one of us can be the lucky one for once. 

Suddenly he saw her. Blonde, dressed in yellow, standing on the ground below him. She looked… weirdly calm. 

“I’ve got eyes on her,” Dick said. “And she’s… got eyes on me?”

“Elaborate, Nightwing.”

“She’s waving at me. She was waving as soon as I walked up, like she knew I was coming,” because that wasn’t creepy at all. Oh no, am I gonna get kidnapped? Not this week, please, I’ve got stuff to do. 

Barbara sighed. “Well, she hasn’t done anything yet, so the most we can do is monitor from afar. I’ll let the police know where she was and keep her pinged on the Batcomputer, for now.”

“Alrighty,”

“I’m also going to set up the system to alert us when she gets near large public gathering places — schools, the library, malls, the bank, county buildings,” Barbara said, and by her tone Dick knew she was already working on it. 

“Roger that, Oracle. Should I-” Dick suddenly gasped as agonizing pain shot through his head. He could honestly say that in all his years of crime fighting, he’d never felt such piercing pain. He tried to form the words he needed to call for backup, to warn his family, to ask for help, because it hurt- black spots swam in his vision and he knew he was too late. He barely felt himself crumple to the ground. 

When he opened his eyes, he didn’t recognize his surroundings. It almost looked like Wayne Manor, but he knew intrinsically that it wasn’t. It was too… dark. At the sound of light laughter, he got up and walked across the hall. The rest of the house seemed to be decorated just as classically, if a bit over the top for Alfred’s usual tastes. Everything around him felt real enough, but one could never be sure in Gotham. He could even just be dreaming in the Cave. A really weird, hyper-realistic dream, but still. A guy could hope. He found the source of the laughter in a sitting room, and snuck into the room, sure he wasn’t able to be seen. He wasn’t sure what was happening-either some new Scarecrow drug or the Secret Keeper. Lovely. Dick prepared himself mentally, but… even then, his usual protections fell short. 

Bentley. That was a tiny baby Bentley, sitting on a chair much too big for him, in a tiny suit that looked supremely uncomfortable, staring at the three adults in the room with a serious, wide-eyed gaze. The kid couldn’t be more than five, but he wasn’t fidgeting at all. Dick began to feel sick. Were these Bentley’s real memories, or an elaborate lie his brain was concocting? Or even the Secret Keeper’s doing? 

The adults were talking, Dick heard snippets of conversation that sounded like business matters, and he had to wonder what Bentley was doing here. Maybe it was a weird rich kid thing. Tim might know. 

Dick turned his attention fully to the adults as the two guests started exiting. Bentley’s father-no, Bentley has a better dad now. A better family. This man is nothing. Whittaker saw the others out, and returned to the room to collect Bentley. Dick watched warily. He knew Whittaker was an abusive piece of trash, but none of them had really pushed Bentley into telling details. From various nightmares he’d helped Bentley through, though, he knew Whittaker was physically and emotionally abusive, and Bentley often dreamt about a dark closet. He had a terrible feeling that what he was seeing was real, and that he was about to get up close and personal with Bentley’s worst nightmares. 

He wanted to see. He wanted to run away. He wanted to grab the tiny Bentley and hold him as tightly as possible. He wanted Bruce to handle it. He didn’t want anyone else to have to see it. 

Bentley hopped off the chair as Whittaker approached, a hopeful look on his tiny, squishy face. He was so little. Were five year olds normally this small? Was he even five? 

“Did I do good, Father?” Little Bentley asked, and despite the tension growing in his chest, Dick had to resist the urge to coo at the toddler. 

“Shut up, Bentley. Go to your room, I have work to do.” Whittaker said dismissively. Dick clenched his fist. 

“But-”

“Go! Do you want to spend the night in the closet, Bentley?” 

“No, sir, please don’t-”

“Go to your room.”

“Yes, sir.” 

Dick watched as Bentley ran out of the room, barely holding back the tears. He followed the boy, trying to put aside his anger at Whittaker in favor of comforting the child. Everything felt way too real to be an illusion or hallucination, and as crazy as it seemed, he might have to start considering time travel. He had to admit, though, it was mostly wishful thinking. Maybe if he got sent back in time, he could make a difference in Bentley’s life sooner. He made sure he wasn’t seen as he followed his baby brother to what he assumed was his room. 

Bentley scrambled onto the bed and buried himself under the covers, and Dick flinched as he heard the unmistakable sound of someone choking back their sobs. Bentley was trying to cry as silently as possible, probably out of fear of his father. He desperately wanted to comfort the kid, but wasn’t sure he should. Would Bentley freak out? He was dressed as Nightwing. Bentley didn’t live in Gotham or Bludhaven, he probably had no clue who Dick was. He didn’t want to scare Bentley more than his father had. No, maybe he’d wait and watch, as much as it pained him to do so. 

Almost as soon as he’d decided to leave Bentley alone for now, the scene dissolved and Dick found himself back in the sitting room. Confused, he turned and saw Bentley, but it was the same Bentley that Dick had first met all those months ago. Small, scared, and pale. Brave, hopeful, and kind. And sleepy. Dick watched as Bentley’s eyes drifted gently shut and his chin sunk toward his chest. 

“Aw, John… looks like your little helper got a bit sleepy. How sweet is that?” A female voice said. Dick turned long enough to see two people, obviously potential business partners. He didn’t spend too much time on them though, instead focusing his attention on Whittaker. It would’ve been invisible to a civilian eye, but to him who’d been Bat-trained since he was eight, he saw the brief flash of anger. Bentley jerked upright as Whittaker strode toward him, chuckling. 

“It seems as though he has. Let me take him up to bed.” He gathered the boy into his arms. Bentley wrapped his arms around his father’s neck and laid his curly red head on his father’s shoulder, the very picture of youthful innocence, but Dick could see the tense lines in his shoulders, the slight tremble to his fingers. No nine-year-old should ever have those traits. 

Dick ran after Whittaker as he carried Bentley down the dark halls. Once they were on the other side of the house, Whittaker stopped and abruptly dropped Bentley onto the floor. Dick cried out and lunged towards the boy, but he was too slow. Bentley hit the ground with a thud and a soft whimper, and Dick turned on Whittaker, furious. What the heck? Why did he even have Bentley with him in his stupid meetings if he was just going to beat him up for being a kid? 

“Get up,” Whittaker said, a cruel edge to his voice. Bentley obeyed wordlessly. “How many times do we have to talk about you not embarrassing me during meetings? It’s always something with you. You’re tired, you’re hungry, you don’t feel good,”

“I’m sorry,” Bentley whispered as he brought his hands up to wrap around his middle. “I was really tired.”

“Yeah? Well I’m really tired of your excuses.” Whittaker said. Dick jumped forward to stop the hit he saw coming for Bentley’s face, but his hand seemed to slide right off of the attacker’s arm, and he shouted as Whittaker slapped Bentley-his own son, just a little kid-in the face. Bentley jumped and staggered back. His hand reached up to his cheek, and Dick choked as his little brother whispered a small, 

“I’m sorry.” 

Tears were now pooling in Dick’s eyes, and he tried to blink them away and focus on Whittaker. He was moving toward Bentley again, and Dick was too slow, he was trying to get Bentley away, he couldn’t move-

Whittaker gripped Bentley’s arm tightly and dragged him around the corner. All Dick could see was Bentley’s terrified, pale face, as Whittaker dragged him toward a white door. 

“No! Father, please… I promise I won’t do it again. I promise. Please don’t-” he begged, pleaded with the larger man, but to no avail. Whittaker simply growled something at him and tossed him roughly into the dark room behind the door. Dick heard another small thud as Bentley hit the ground again, and he wanted to scream. Why couldn’t he help? He was so useless, it was Ethiopia all over again, he wasn’t enough-

Whittaker deadbolted the door and left, not seeing Dick standing helplessly in the hall. Dick rushed toward the door, tried to open it, to get in, to save his baby brother, but his fingers kept slipping off the lock. He couldn’t open it, couldn’t unlock it, why?

“Father! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Bentley was screaming, but then he finally gave up, and all Dick could hear from inside the closet was silence. Awful, dead silence. 

“Bentley! Bentley, please, it’s okay, I’ve got you, I’m right here! Bentley!” Dick cried, near frantic. He was still desperately trying to open the door as it dissolved into darkness like before. It gave way once again to an elaborately furnished office. Bentley was sitting on a chair on one side of a large desk, and Whittaker occupied the desk chair. 

“You know I love you, right?” Whittaker said, and cupped his hand around Bentley’s cheek. Dick tried to cross the room to rip Bentley away, but he felt like he was running through mud. 

“You… you what?”

“I love you,”

“The way I treat you, the way I raise you — I do it so you can be successful,” Dick saw Bentley start to trust the gentle touch, to lean into it. 

“I teach you the hard lessons so you don’t have to learn them from anyone else,” Whittaker stroked Bentley’s face. “Because I want what’s best for you. I always have.”

“No, Bentley, no baby, don’t listen, we love you-” Dick felt like he was being ripped apart. 

“And that, son, is how you manipulate someone,” The man said, and walked away from his desk. Bentley was unbalanced by the loss of support, and Whittaker’s expression regained its cruel edge.  “With your words, your touch, your eyes… you can make people fold in the blink of an eye. People you never thought would fold. You believed me, didn’t you?”

“No! No, you- you- stop!” Dick practically screamed in Whittaker’s face, but the man looked right through him. 

“I… you don’t… you were lying?”

Dick turned toward his little brother just in time to see the heartbreak unfold on his little face. 

“I’m going to teach you how to do what I just did to you. How to take people's pasts, their desires, their fears, the tiniest sliver of information they present to you… and twist it into a net they can’t get out of. How to tie strings around the wrists and ankles of every person you meet so they bend to your will. Move when you move.” Whittaker pulled a stack of files from the desk. “I’ve asked myself for a long time, what’s the most efficient way to get rid of my rivals? To silence them? It's been right in front of my face for as long as I can remember. Sales people, businessmen, they live, thrive off of pulling the right strings, moving the right parts, saying the right things… they’ve made manipulation, deception, into a career. But us, we’re going to make it into a superpower. And you… into a weapon.”

Dick couldn’t hold back anymore. He sobbed as he tried to hold Bentley, to take him away, to cover his ears, but he just couldn’t seem to affect anything.��

“These are going to be your main targets.” Whittaker said. Dick guessed they were the Wayne family folders, but he didn’t care. “But first, you need training. Let’s start with this,” 

Bentley and Dick yelled out in surprise and anger respectively when Whittaker’s hand thwacked across the child’s face, hard enough to shake the office chair and leave a painful red mark on Bentley’s cheek. “You must not allow yourself to be so easily deceived. If you’re going to be using it as a weapon, you must be immune to it yourself.” Whittaker eyed his young son with distaste. “Don’t you dare start crying.”

Dick sobbed harder. Bentley didn’t move. 

“You know who else thrives off of manipulation? Children. They cry to get what they want, or to make people feel bad. It’s instilled in you simply for existing as a human being. And while you’ve learned over time that you can not manipulate me with childish antics… you will learn just how far you can take people before they teeter off the edge. We’re going to pull that instinct out of you until it’s all you are. All you know. I’m going to turn you into a human Puppeteer. One that can twist and weave its way into the unsuspecting consciousnesses of strangers and control them, make them feel and believe things that aren’t really there. A weapon that can’t be found. Do you understand?”

“I… understand, father.” Bentley said, but his voice sounded thick. Dick didn’t know how much more he could take. 

“Good,” Whittaker tossed a protein bar on the desk in front of Bentley, and Dick nearly threw up at the look of joy and thankfulness on Bentley’s face when he saw it. “It seems you have much reading to do. When you finish, we’ll discuss how you can use that information to make the Waynes weak at the knees.”

Bentley happily began to eat the measly protein bar and look at the files. Dick tried and tried to get Bentley to see him, to hear him, but nothing worked. He was still trying to get the boy’s attention when the room faded to black again. 

He knew he should be trying to focus on figuring out what was going on, could hear Bruce’s voice in his head telling him to slow down, think logically, but he couldn’t. Bentley was in trouble, his baby brother was getting hurt and again-always, always-he couldn’t do anything, he was too late, he was in space, he didn’t listen-

The darkness once again pulled away and Dick was standing in another sitting room. Whittaker was staring at a portrait of a woman on the wall, a glass of alcohol in his hand. His eyes were red, he was crying, and Dick hated him. Hated him with every fiber of his being. His attention was drawn toward the door on the other end of the room, and he saw Bentley peer inside, fear and curiosity on his face. When he saw his father crying, something unreadable crossed his face. 

“Father?” he said timidly. Even with this monster, he’s always kind. Dick thought, but his reflection on his brother’s unfailing empathy was chased from his mind when Whittaker leapt from his chair and punched Bentley in the face. Dick screamed as Bentley flew into the air and crashed down hard on the floor. The ten-year-old pressed his hand against his mouth as tears pooled in his eyes. 

“Stop it, stop, stop, he’s just a kid-” Dick shouted at Whittaker, but the man marched toward Bentley without a glance in Dick’s direction. Bentley scrambled backward, utter terror written in every line of his body. 

“What have I told you about invading my privacy?!” Bentley’s back hit the wall, Dick’s feet seemed to be cemented in place. “Tell me!”

Bentley curled into a little ball, and Dick saw rather than heard the sobs rack his body. 

“Stop crying!” Whittaker raised his hand and threw the glass toward the child, his son. 

“No!” Dick screamed, and lunged forward, but his hands just slipped off the glass, not deterring it in the least. The glass barely missed Bentley’s head and shattered against the wall. Strong liquid pooled on the floor, and the scent of heavy alcohol, fear, and anger made Dick want to gag. 

“Just… just… go put yourself… in the closet,” Whittaker grumbled. When Bentley simply looked up at him, he shouted, “Now!” 

The boy stumbled to his feet,and in his hurry, pressed his hand against the shattered glass. Blood joined the already nauseating smells in the air. Dick remembered that wound. They’d helped him dress it. 

“Get out of my sight, boy!” Whittaker slurred as he sat down. “Knew I shoulda’ given you away after your mother died. Worthless excuse of a human being.” 

Dick heard the words as he followed Bentley out, and he knew the boy had, too. I hope he knows better now. I hope he knows we love him. Bentley’s small frame shook with sobs as he huddled in a bathroom, but after a while, he bandaged his own hand and cleaned the blood from the floors and walls. Dick hated the blank, miserable expression on the child’s face as he closed himself into the closet. Dick tried to comfort him, tried to hug him close, but he couldn’t do anything to dry Bentley’s tears, and he was soon crying as well. 

“Dick…” Bentley’s voice said in the darkness. But it wasn’t the young Bentley still crying in the dark next to Dick. It was his Bentley. His babybird. “It’s okay. Nothing scary is happening.”

As soon as Bentley finished speaking, Dick was pulled violently from the darkness of the closet. He was in the sitting room, Whittaker was slapping Bentley. He saw Bentley cry himself to sleep because he was so hungry. He saw Bentley get locked out of the house as a toddler for interrupting a meeting. He saw Whittaker strike his son again and again and again and again and again, and he couldn’t move, and Bentley kept getting hurt, and Whittaker starved him and yelled at him and never ever touched him without causing pain and Dick screamed and sobbed and begged everything he knew for it to stop. 

Until it finally did. Until he woke up in the Cave, Bruce sitting next to him. Until he sobbed into his father’s shoulder and begged him to send Bentley down, he needed to see Bentley, bigger and happy and safe. Until he could finally, finally hug his baby brother. 

[anonnie-in-wonderland]

Call Me Crazy...

Rating: T

 Word Count:11.8k 

 Warning(s): anxiety/anxious thoughts, near panic attacks, injury, but also beware the fluff for it is potent

 Summary: When Y/N gets her hands on the newest Samsung phone, she thinks at most she’ll get a little clout with her friends and fewer dropped calls. A direct portal to BTS? Not so much.

 Genre(s): Strangers to Friends to Lovers| Crack Treated Seriously| Fluff| Comedy| Romance| Magical Realism

 Tags: bts x reader | ot7 x reader | poly| FM!POC!reader

 Ch.3:  Don’t Hold Your Breath for a Break

A/N: Hiiii, sorry I’ve been away for so long. 🥺 Life has been pretty stressful. But, I’m back now, new chapter, whoo! I have had this on my mind for a while now, and finally got the chance to incorporate it into this chapter~ I really do hope you enjoy the arrival of the next BTS member to show up, whose dynamics with Y/N are already among my favorites. Also, always feel free to chat with me about this fic if you’d like, I don’t bite and thrive on the engagement! 🤗 I wanna know if anyone wants to guess what is going on or has figured it out yet. This chapter is especially dedicated to the blog who had a super easy tutorial on how to keep your formatting from google docs to tumblr!! Saved me a lot of time. Hehe *PLEASE do not ask about the taglist in this story’s comments*

In the days that followed, Y/N completely fell down a rabbit hole. It felt prudent to look more into BTS, or more specifically, Park Jimin. From a strictly legal perspective and nothing more.

 After all, she was sure his attorneys would be sending a court summons any day now just as soon as they managed to find out her identity and track her down. It was something she lived in fear of.

 Binna was none-the-wiser that the reason she suddenly seemed so attentive about the band’s recent lives was because she wanted to know if they’d mentioned anything. Any clues that would tell Y/N when her days as a free person were coming to an end. 

Honestly, she hadn’t found much. Nothing that would be helpful in allowing her to participate in her own legal defense. Speaking of that, could she even afford an attorney that would be able to stand up against Park Jimin’s? She was sure a global superstar would have the best in the country.

Y/N listlessly scrolled through yet more photos of Jimin—looking for hidden meanings in the recent videos the group had posted was starting to make her feel like she was overreacting at best and paranoid at worst. 

There were pictures of him with a variety of hair colors and outfits, taken over time, and he was flawless in all of them. Even ones she came across where he wasn’t glammed out in full makeup made it obvious he was just one of the lucky ones, naturally born attractive. 

“How many wardrobe malfunctions can one person have throughout their career?” Y/N found herself muttering, spying yet another photo where Jimin’s fancy jacket was sliding down his arm. “Is he allergic to keeping his shirt on his shoulders?”

Though, given how many fan compilations existed that compiled every single moment where Jimin’s shirt or jacket hadn’t quite managed to stay all the way on, it didn’t seem like there were many complaints. Army was swooning and swooning hard if anything. 

But really, being sued within an inch of her life wasn’t even the worst part about it all. If someone saw the “notes” section of her phone, they’d have her committed first, and ask questions later. She’d have her committed, under normal circumstances.

 Because what she had experienced not once, but twice? It went against everything she stood for. Logical, grounded, a firm believer in science and fact. Facts didn’t support phenomena like getting sucked through a mirror and ending up in an idol’s dance studio. 

Facts didn’t support seeing the face of another idol—because she now knew the reason the man in the mirror looked vaguely familiar was because he was another BTS member, Seokjin—instead of her own reflection when she went to brush her teeth. It just…didn’t make sense. 

Science couldn’t support it. It was nuts. Yet it happened to her. And that was the only reason she believed it. Too bad no one else would. Or worse, if and when Jimin announced he’d be pressing charges for assault, and she had confessed beforehand to someone…it would probably be taken as evidence the attack was premeditated.

 Sure, they’d have to prove how she got in. But…but still! She couldn’t risk it. Wouldn’t. Which meant her phone was her only safe secret-keeper. They were co-conspirators in it all. 

Speaking of the damned cursed thing… trying to outright return it hadn’t worked, even though she had the receipt and everything! She still remembered the bizarre events that day.

Y/N was almost out of breath by the time she entered the phone store, embarrassingly worked up in front of the few strangers milling around inside. She got a few curious, side-long glances, and then they went back to perusing the inventory.

“Welcome!” Called an employee already speaking to other customers. “Someone will assist you shortly.”

Y/N gave a short, affirmative nod, trying not to come off anxious as she glanced around. Everything looked…the same as the night she had bought the phone. Shiny new models on display, the monitor above their heads playing a loop of advertisements for different Samsung products, and everything neatly put away and organized. Absently, she began to think over the store’s layout, and the fact that it could have a strong subconscious effect on the consumer. Organization of inventory could actually play a role in whether or not someone wanted to buy something.

But, putting that aside, the store didn’t look like the kind of place that would sell someone a phone that would ruin their life. Looks could be deceiving, though. Who knew what was actually afoot?

“Oh, can I help you, miss?” A middle-aged woman wearing the store’s polo top came over with a tag that said her name was Hayoung asked in an attentive tone.

Y/N was quick to nod. “I’m here to make a return, actually. I bought a phone from your store not long ago.”

“Was the item not to your liking?” Hayoung asked, guiding her over to an available station.

The university student glanced down at the phone in question, which she’d placed back in the original purchase box. “You could…say that.” She mumbled. “I’ve thought about it, and I really don’t need anything even half this fancy.” Telling the woman she thought the phone might have it in for her was out of the question. “So I’d like to exchange it for something simpler.”

Hayoung dutifully accepted the box, scanning the barcode and then lifting up the lid. Y/N had anticipated a smooth return in which she’d flash her receipt, maybe some ID, and have the exchange completed in no time. But when Hayoung’s brow furrowed, she knew she wouldn’t like whatever the saleswoman was going to say.

“Is…is something wrong?”

“Well,” she paused, “Are you sure you purchased your phone here? From this store? I know we’ve had models similar to this in stock before, but this one’s just not ringing up.”

“Really?” Y/N shook her head, rummaging around in her purse. “I don’t see how that could be. I have the receipt if that helps…” 

She then proceeded to go through her small purse, searching the exact spot she knew she had folded and placed the receipt. “Um, hold on a minute please,” Hayoung waited expectantly as Y/N kept looking, growing increasingly more frustrated as she turned the contents of her purse inside out hunting for the receipt. 

No, no way was she ever that careless. She had made sure she put it into her purse before leaving the apartment, and she didn’t exactly care that much in it to begin with! It was all zipped up tight, so how could it have fallen out?!

It took several more long, awkward moments of searching futilely in vein for her to realize it was true. The receipt was no where to be found. Trying to fight down the flush of defeat crossing her cheeks, Y/N cleared her throat, speaking diplomatically, “I’m sorry, I don’t seem to have my receipt on hand after all. I guess I’ll just…try to search it out and return when I do.”

“Oh, there’s no need. Our system can search for and find the purchase if you happen to have the card on hand.”

Y/N wanted to slump over in defeat, “Actually my friend bought it…”

“Oh,” Hayoung tilted her head, “Do you happen to know the account number used?”

Y/N mentally wondered if Binna was free. She shouldn’t be in class right now, right? So it would be okay to quickly give her a call and get this sorted out. She had to leave the store without this phone. That was a must!

 “H-Hold on please!” It was a little embarrassing, snatching the phone she had been trying to return from its box and powering it on. In anticipation of making the return, Y/N had thought to wipe it and remove the SIM card chip, but then recalled hearing it was best to do that at the store when the transaction was complete, in case there was something forgotten on the phone that still needed to be retrieved.

Hastily scrolling down the admittedly short contacts’ list, Y/N located Binna’s number and pressed the button to dial. The phone rang three times, and she anxiously tapped her foot as she waited to see if her friend would pick up. ‘Please, Bin. Come on. Please.’

Of course, as it always was when she needed something to work out, it didn’t quite go smoothly. Binna hadn’t picked up, and she had ended up ending the call right before it switched to voice mail. Typing out a text message asking for the information she needed, Y/N had glared spitefully down at the phone.

“Do you recall the name of the clerk who sold you the phone?” Hayoung asked gently. 

Y/N thought it over, the sales associate’s face floating to mind. “Yes, his name was Suk-kyu.”

“Hmm, that name doesn’t sound familiar.” Hayoung shook her head. “I’ve been employed here three years and never heard anyone go by that name,”

It was unlike her, but Y/N felt she was entitled to a bit of out of character behavior when her jaw actually dropped. “You’re kidding…”

But, Hayoung assured her, she was not. She didn’t think they had ever carried the exclusive Army Edition of the phone. She didn’t know who Suk-kyu was, and Y/N couldn’t find her receipt, the only bit of evidence that might have been able to successfully lift the burden of the phone from her person. She had left the store, apologizing for wasting the patient woman’s time, and feeling like she was at least partially going crazy. 

Needless to say, Y/N had been…anxious about the phone since then. A bit scared, even. A fear she had no choice but to shoulder in silence for the time being. There wasn’t much she could do but continue searching high and low for the receipt and hope it turned up soon.

 In the meantime, she didn’t let on that anything was wrong, using the phone like before, though limiting that to when it was really necessary. No more playing around with it or downloading apps. Nope, she didn’t want to risk getting too attached to the thing. 

The only thing she did besides make calls was research. Things she never would have thought about looking up before. Like, unexplained phenomena with electronics, most of which led to completely wild conspiracy theories or dead ends.

Y/N had been so engrossed in breaking her brain over what to do, she jumped when the apartment door swung open, turning around on the coach to see Binna march in, a few grocery bags in her hands. Keys in her mouth, she gently kicked the door closed, humming to herself until she happened to look up and spot Y/N.

“Oh!” Binna hustled into the small kitchen to set her bags down, then her keys. “Y/N, didn’t expect to see you here right now. You’ve got class today, right?”

“It was canceled…” she sighed, sliding down the couch cushions and placing her phone on the coffee table. “The professor’s out sick with the flu.”

Binna winced in sympathy. “Yikes, poor guy…”

“Yeah,” Y/N took great care not to get sick, so she hadn’t so much as had a cold in years, but she still remembered times when she was a child in bed with chills, body aches and a fever. Once she had even had pneumonia, her mother forced to call out from work and nurse her back to health. “He just wanted us to go over the assignment we’ve been working on since the start of the semester. You know, take this as independent study time basically. But…”

“Buuut, knowing you,” Binna smiled, “You’ve already taken the initiative and gotten a head start a long time ago, so you’re ahead of everyone else.”

“Done, actually,” Y/N confirmed, not afraid to admit to her efficiency. 

Her roommate made a noise of encouragement as she began to put the groceries away. It didn’t look like much. A loaf of bread, some bottles of sauce they’d been running low on, some eggs and a carton of milk.

 “That’s great, since it actually kind of works out. Chin-Mae and Min Su invited me to check out this new steak house that just opened up. I heard reservations are booked out for weeks already, but thanks to Min Su’s connections, we can go this evening. What do you say?” Binna wiggled her eyebrows, trying to entice Y/N. 

“Alright, I’m in,” she agreed.

“Because I’m sure they won’t mind adding just one more to our party, especially if that person is you…” Binna continued to ramble.

“Bin, did you hear me?” Y/N clucked, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I said I’m in.”

Eyes round as the eggs she had put away, Binna blinked, nodded, and finally broke out into an ear to ear grin. “Oh, wow, that’s new. I m-mean not that it isn’t great you wanna join us, but…”

“What?” Y/N felt a little defensiveness creeping up on her, and she probably didn’t do the best job completely hiding it from her tone. “You made the invite, and you said Min Su and Chin-Mae would be fine with it. Did you not…really want me to come along?”

They thought she would kill the mood, the nasty little whisper entered her head unbidden. They thought she was so stuffy and boring.

“What, Y/N, no!” Binna immediately denied, “I’m really glad you can make it,” she shot over to the couch, wrapping her arms around her friend’s neck from behind as she bent over for the hug. “It’s true you normally put up a little more resistance when we ask you to come somewhere. You stay so busy, so I was a little surprised is all. But I’m glad you’re agreeing.”

Y/N’s tense shoulders relaxed, and she mentally sighed to herself, feeling silly. Of course, of course her friends wanted her there. And this was Binna, who struggled to have a bad thought about anybody. Secretly resentful definitely wasn’t her style. 

But with the stress she had been under, and the dread she’d done her best not to give into, Y/N could admit her nerves had been on edge. “Yeah, sorry about that…” she laughed weakly, reaching up and patting one of the arms looped around her neck. “I don’t know where that came from, but I’m happy to eat a little steak if Min Su’s recommending it.” The man had the best luck finding good places to eat, or stores that sold exactly what you were looking for but probably overlooked. 

“Good girl,” Binna uncoiled her arms and leaned back against the couch itself. “That’s the spirit. And hey, I heard from some of the girls in the campus’ BTS fan club that one of the guys on campus might be related to one of the waiters who might have catered the food on the set of a music video for Taehyung!”

She said it in a breathy squeal, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile indulgently. She was almost sure she knew which one Taehyung was, but she still wouldn’t put money on it. It might just as soon be someone else. Maybe Namjoon? 

She’d gotten more familiar with their names but as most of her time perusing videos and photos had been spent investigating Jimin, she wasn’t entirely sure on the others’ faces. Well, besides Jin and J-Hope. 

“Nice,” she said, letting Binna get all her gushing out as she texted Chin-Mae just to make sure it really was okay if she tagged along. Stupid to be anxious about feeling unsure if everyone really wanted her to come, but better to be safe than sorry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She was impressed the minute they walked through the door. Min Su stopped trying to sneak an arm around Chin-Mae’s waist and immediately went over to talk to the maître d. The two men spoke cordially, the head waiter confirmed their reservation, and then they were led to their table with a flourish. 

Binna was practically bouncing on her heels, squealing under her breath. “Can you believe this place?” she whispered excitedly, “I feel like a movie star, coming here.”

The restaurant was definitely lavish, so she understood where her friend was coming from. The tables were polished stained oak, and lit by a candle to provide ambiance, and the floors were a gorgeous brown tile that Y/N suspected to be marble. 

The restaurant was done in a mixture of black, gold with high beam wood ceilings and low atmospheric lighting. They walked past a bar, long and oval, with shimmering glasses the team of bartender would pull down as they did impressive tricks to wow the gathered guests. 

“It’s one of the hottest spots in Gangnam right now,” Chin-Mae commented as they sat down. The table comfortably fit the four of them, and everyone got settled as a young woman hurried over, handing them menus and introducing herself. 

“This is so cool,” Binna exclaimed, still wiggling in place. She shook Y/N’s arm. She was all done up with some icy blue eye shadow that matched her aqua dress, and a more subtle plum shade of lipstick. 

Her hair was secured in a complicated twist by a pin she recognized from the last time they had gone shopping together. Y/N adjusted the shawl draped over her shoulders, pulling down her own strapless dress. Binna had helped her pick accessories, which were mostly shades of amber or gold, and apply some light makeup. 

Y/N chuckled, nodding as she scanned the menu, trying her best to ignore the listed prices. She had come fully prepared to pay her own way, but Min Su insisted the meal was going to be on him. It must have been nice.

 The perks of being from an affluent family, she supposed. The guy was already well on his way to being a successful lawyer, following the family tradition. He had moved all the way from his hometown in China to come and work on his master’s degree at one of the top universities in Korea, just for a change of pace. “Thanks again for letting us crash your date night, guys.” Binna beamed.

“Please,” Chin-Mae scoffed lightly, not looking up from his menu. “What was I supposed to do all evening? Talk to him?”

Min Su pouted, but it didn’t diminish the fond glow in his eyes as he leaned over his boyfriend’s shoulder and whispered something in his ear that gave Chin-Mae pause.

 Their friend cut a sharp look at his partner, smacking his thigh and then proceeding to ignore the man who was happily leaning into him and commenting on the menu. Yeah, nothing new there. Min Su was totally gone on Chin-Mae, as always.

 There was nothing about Chin-Mae’s bluntness or dismissive attitude in public that ever put him off. If anything, the mean behavior only served to make Min Su try harder. Though, she and Binna both knew Chin-Mae wouldn’t be with someone this long if he wasn’t just as serious about them.

 He was just a straight shooter, raised in a family that wasn’t completely accepting of who he was, and unfortunately awkward and out of his depth about how to handle someone as affectionate and doting as the man he happened to fall in love with.

 They were well suited in that regard. Min Su was patient and persistent enough to shower Chin-Mae in all the attention he needed to overcome the lingering doubts about being worthy of such deep love and devotion. 

Y/N was perfectly fine, pursuing the path she was. Career goals first, everything else second. But sometimes, watching them, a little envy did ignite.

 It must have been nice to find something like that, and she was truly happy for them. It didn’t seem likely she’d have time in the near future to go out and chase it for herself, of course. And she wasn’t really worried about it. 

“So, what’ll it be for you guys?” Y/N cleared her throat, interrupting the warm and cozy silence they’d all been existing in.

“Ohh, I think I’m gonna have the smoked chicken and spinach salad, and a side of the fried mushrooms,” Binna announced, tongue poking out in concentration as her finger followed where the items she wanted were on the menu.

“You’re going so easy on him.” Chin-Mae remarked. “I’m getting the iron skillet trout,” he squinted, leaning further into the menu. Min Su only smiled, plucking the reading glasses from Chin Mae’s breast pocket that he had forgotten to put on and placing them on his face for him.

 The absent-minded pat he got on the hand for it made the law student’s whole face light up. “And the chicken fried steak. That okay, babe?” He might not have looked it, exactly, but Chin-Mae had a healthy appetite. And if they were coming to such an exclusive restaurant for the first time, it wasn’t surprising he wouldn’t be keen to hold back.

Min Su was nodding encouragingly before Chin-Mae had even fully gotten the question out of his mouth. “And what about you, Y/N?”

She clammed up slightly, having been looking at the menu, mentally ruling out what seemed too expensive, or wasn’t quite her taste. “Uh, the pot roast sounds like a filling entree.”

“And?” Chin-Mae prodded, interlocking his hands together and leaning on them.

“And nothing,” Y/N shook her head. “It comes with two sides, that’s more than enough.”

“Boo,” Her friend hissed dramatically. “Fine. If neither one of you is going to take advantage of this, then I guess it’s up to me.”

Their waitress returned with a tray of drinks at precisely that moment, and as she set them down in front of the correct person, everyone began telling her their orders, which she jotted down without missing a beat.

 Only Min Su had actually ordered any steak, but, given the price of a 24 oz there was just no way she felt comfortable doing that to the poor guy, even if he was a good sport about it and more than capable of handling a large bill. 

As they sat, sipping their champagne and waiting on the food, something Y/N had been putting off thinking about started floating through her mind. Ever since the whole Jimin fiasco, despite her deep diving and frantic searching, nothing had turned up that indicated anyone was coming after her. 

But she just wasn’t willing to believe she’d gotten away that easily. She almost killed a celebrity. And, due to that, she’d really wanted to seek legal advice from Min Su, under the guise of some far-fetched hypothetical, of course. Her friends weren’t onto her, and she couldn’t give them a reason to be. 

She just had to find a way to casually broach the topic…

“Oh,” Binna gasped from her side, drawing the whole table’s attention to herself. She was carefully scrolling her phone with a freshly manicured nail, scowling slightly. It was so rare that Binna displayed any actual disdain, it had Y/N a bit curious. 

“What’s wrong, Bin?”

“It’s nothing,” she replied immediately, then paused. “Well it’s not nothing but, it’s just…I really wished we lived in a world that respected idols as people, you know? Some people call themselves fans and act like famous people aren’t allowed to have any boundaries.” She then went on to describe how there’d been another sasaeng incident reported on a news site she followed to keep up with celebrity gossip. 

Apparently, it was a pretty serious one, and crazed ‘fans’ had attacked an actress a well-known idol was reported to be dating. Her bodyguard had fended them off, but the actress still went to the hospital with some injuries. 

Y/N perked up slightly, but Min Su and Chin-Mae were thankfully too engrossed in listening to Binna rant to notice. It would be much easier to bring up her question using the information Binna had just provided them as a pretext.

 It was about time she had a stroke of good luck. Stopping to think it over, Y/N cringed. Not that she wasn’t sympathetic to the poor woman who had been harmed because of someone’s delusions. But it just…presented an opportunity she had to take, and….

‘Oh, why am I trying to rationalize it to myself?! I should just ask the question before the subject changes.’

 That decided, she opened her mouth and spoke, doing her best to make it seem as casual as possible. “So Min Su, you’re practically a lawyer. What kind of charges could that person face? Attacking a celebrity and inflicting bodily harm isn’t the same as harassing them for a photo.”

 Y/N silently patted herself on the back, sitting from her glass with an expression carefully schooled to look only mildly interested. Inside was another matter. She was rocking back in forth, heart hammering and eyes wide, waiting for an answer with baited breath.

“Hmm, well, I’ve mostly studied corporate law.” He admitted, playing with a ring on his index finger, “But I do know that given the severity, it’s likely both the actress and the company she’s represented under will press charges. Things are also moving faster these days, prosecuting people who do things like that.” 

Y/N swallowed, eyes fixated on Min Su’s thoughtful expression. “There were also witnesses, so it’s very likely to result in a conviction.” Yes, there had been a witness in her case too. Well, J-Hope had only seen her fleetingly. Maybe. Hopefully not. But if she was on any camera then…it was most definitely over for her.

 “The court could go light on them if it was a first offense…they might be sentenced to a large fine and community service…” Okay, Y/N thought. It would probably drain her savings, but it was still possible to bounce back and have a future, right? She could still put it in the past and become a CEO one day, right?! “Then again, it was a premeditated attack. Jail time is also a strong possibility.”

Her heart sank back down to her feet. Jail. What successful CEO in Korea had been to jail before graduating, and for assaulting an idol no less. 

‘I. Am. Done.’

“What’s the matter, Y/N?” Binna giggled, “You look like you smelled a rotten egg. But I guess hearing about how far some crazy people will go is pretty disgusting, isn’t it? I don’t think I’ll have much sympathy for them, whatever happens.”

“…Yeah…” Y/N said once her words came unstuck. That was another thing. Her sweet friend was going to think she was a criminal. She had known Binna since high school, having shared a homeroom class with her. They were vague acquaintances then, friendly enough to speak from time to time but by no means close enough to hang out between classes or after school. 

In fact, admittedly, Y/N used to wonder if Binna’s perky personality was just an act. It had to be, in her cynical rationalizing, because who was really that upbeat, in high school? 

Later on, she would realize she was just projecting, and once she stopped doing that was when she truly came to appreciate Binna for all that she was, steadfast and supportive. Although they didn’t become close, didn’t become friends, until meeting at orientation when arriving at Korea University. 

“They knew the consequences before they did it.” Chin-Mae joined in, swishing the last of his champagne around before drinking it down. “It’s stupid to think your life won’t be impacted when you run wild like that.”

Except, Y/N wanted to wail. She hadn’t known. She wasn’t a sasaeng, and she knew she had assaulted someone but at the same time she hadn’t really done anything wrong. Except maybe buy a cursed magical phone, that somehow was behind all this.

…Yeah, she’d just keep that thought to herself. 

“Well,” Y/N smiled, “Thanks for giving your input.” She told Min Su, who nodded, humming with a cheerful ‘no problem’.

A cartoony chime went off, and Binna groaned as she stared down at her phone, “Nooo,” she sighed, sounding truly remorseful. “Right now?”

“What’s happening?” Chin-Mae raised a brow.

“Jimin is going live!” She whined, “And normally I’d watch but I’m having such a great time with all of you, and I don’t want to be rude…”

“It’s fine, go ahead.” Y/N said, forcing a smile. “We know how addicted to that stuff you are.” Really, she wanted the floor to swallow her into the abyss. She knew the minute she heard that sound what was going on. If her phone had been turned on, they would have heard the same noise coming from her purse too.

She had made an account on several apps BTS often broadcasted their lives to, and set an alert for just that occasion. There were a couple of false alarms she hadn’t tuned into once she saw they weren’t from the person she was basically stalking at this point. But this was it. The big moment. 

He hadn’t done a solo live since the accident…but Binna said his members had mentioned that he had a small accident while practicing and was recovering well. 

All of Army was behind him, sending him tons of well wishes from all over the world. It was sweet, but she wondered how fast they would turn if they knew she was behind their beloved idol’s injuries. 

“Yeah, what Y/N said,” Chin-Mae rolled his eyes. “Check on your man,” he joked.

Binna giggled, flashing them a cute heart. “He’s not my man,” she replied playfully, “I’d have to get in line for that. Plus, I’m really more of an OT7, you know? It’s really hard to stick with one bias.”

 Nonetheless, when she began to watch, since Y/N couldn’t exactly whip out her phone and do the same without raising suspicion, she subtly leaned closer to at least listen.

Of course, Binna was always more astute than she let on. “Oh, did you wanna see too?” She angled the screen so they could both see before Y/N even had the chance to protest. 

And the live was just starting, the exact same idol she had seen what felt like a lifetime ago was sitting in a room by himself. It looked like he was on a couch, legs crossed, looking small in his soft oversized sweater and giving the camera a cute wave. “Hi, everyone,” his sweet voice said. “Thank you for waiting on me!”

Gushing comments poured in, cheering him and welcoming him back, asking him what he’d been up to, and telling him he looked good. Jimin tilted his head, a coy, secretive smile appearing on his shiny lips. Y/N couldn’t tell if he was wearing gloss or if they always looked like that.

 She had been a bit too preoccupied the one and only time she had the opportunity to see them in person. He had dyed his hair a different color, though. It was now a shade of strawberry blonde that complimented his angelic features well.

 “Well, I haven’t been up to much. Just resting, really.” he explained. “Even on days when I felt better and tried to join practices, the members just shooed me away.” He laughed. “Oh, but look at this!” He reached down, his head dipping out of screen for a minute, popping up seconds later holding a little pot. “Taehyung got me this ‘get well’ plant!” He showed them a cute little sapling.

Binna cooed, Y/N glancing at her then refocusing on his words. Who knew when a hidden meaning would pop up.

“I don’t know how well I’ll be able to take care of it; I’m not sure if I have a green thumb. But I’ll try my best!”

Comments came pouring in again, people saying he was going to enter his plant dad era, because collecting succulents could be addicting.

 Other people gushed at the sweetness of the VMin friendship, whatever that was, and yet more people reminded Jimin that he looked really good. Yet one comment in particular seemed to catch his eye, and he squinted, seemingly intrigued. 

“Hmm? You wish you were a plant so I could take care of you?” He repeated. “You don’t have to be a plant for me to want to take care of you.” The statement was very matter-of-fact, “You’re Army. I’ll always watch over Army.”

Binna sounded like she released a tiny sniffle. “Is he not just the sweetest?” She asked, nudging Y/N a bit. “Since you’re new to BTS, have you chosen a bias yet?”

Y/N wished she could tell her the real reason behind her sudden interest, but that was kind of out of the question. “No, not yet…”

“Y/N’s a BTS fan now?” Chin-Mae asked, “Since when?”

“Pretty recent.” Binna replied.

Y/N was only half listening to her friends, mostly focusing on Jimin’s chatter. Someone was still insisting they wanted to be his plant, and he looked nothing short of amused. 

“Okay, if you insist. Should I start a garden then?” He asked his fans. Y/N watched, stunned, as his bright eyes narrowed into a practiced and very effective smolder. She had seen it in pictures before, but in real time it was really something else, “It’ll be full of so many pretty flowers, and you’ll all bloom just for me, right?” The heady purr of his words sent a shocked shiver right down her spine. 

Binna swooned, while Y/N felt her breath hitch. ‘What… the…hell…was that?!’ A flirty throwaway line like that had never had that effect on her before.

 But then, thinking back, he had flirted with her in the dance studio too. She’d just been too worried to pay attention. Clearly, the man was an old hand at the art of duality, going from wholesome to heathen in five seconds flat. That was…dangerous. 

Binna seemed to already know how she felt, leaning into her with a sigh. “That, Y/N, is what happens when Jimin turns from angel to demon.” Her friend explained. “I’d say you’ll get used to it, but odds are you probably won’t.”

Jimin then went back to amicably speaking to everyone, as if he hadn’t just teased fans within an inch of their lives. The conversation moved on, and he was speaking about upcoming projects he was excited about or a funny habit that he had noticed in his band member. All normal, non-threatening stuff. Y/N was almost thinking she could relax. Almost. 

“What? You want to tell me a secret?” Jimin was reading another comment. “Okay, I’m listening…”

Y/N quirked a brow at the comment. “Sometimes I dream about you.” it read.

The idol grinned, replying casually. “Sometimes I miss Army so much I end up thinking about all of you in the middle of the day.” Y/N’s blood ran cold as he looked intensely at the screen. “It’s almost like you’re there…”

That was it. The sign she was waiting for! He was talking to her. 

“I…” Y/N stumbled to her feet, startling Binna. “Need the bathroom, I’ll be back.”

“Oh, okay.” Her friend said slowly, setting down her phone. “Is anything wrong? You don’t…look so good suddenly.”

‘You wouldn’t either in my shoes,’ she thought miserably. ‘Park Jimin is going to sue me within an inch of my life.’

“It’s alright,” she held a hand to her stomach, selling the illusion of sudden nausea. “Just…lady problems.” She said lamely.

Poor Binna didn’t even question it; she nodded, eyes full of sympathy. “Well text if you need anything.” She squeezed Y/N’s hand. “I’ve got a few extra tampons in my purse.” she whispered discreetly. Really, Binna was too good of a friend for her. 

Y/N rounded the corner in a hurry, blindly guessing where the bathrooms might be located. She passed their waitress, rolling out a cart that she was pretty sure contained their meals. Everything looked delicious, and of course she couldn’t even enjoy the great evening Min Su had generously provided. All because she was screwed. 

She hustled into a bathroom as fancy as the rest of the steak house, and so spacious there would probably be an echo. She hustled over to the sink, activating the handless system by shoving her trembling fingers under it. As she splashed her face with warm water, the dread twisting up her stomach gave way to deja vu. 

‘This is just like…the event at the internship.’ The wild day that would be the beginning of the end of her life. Removing her hands from the water, she gently pressed the pad of her thumb up to her eye, tapping it a few times.

 Her makeup was well done, but it still felt like she could see bags. ‘At least it can’t get worse.’ She assumed. After all, what was worse than this? The dumb phone was put away in her clutch, turned off, and back at the table.

 The very least she could do was fake a smile so she didn’t ruin everyone’s meal, and enjoy what might be her last chance to experience this. They probably didn’t serve many steakhouse dinners where she was going. 

That thought firmly in mind, Y/N squared her shoulders and prepared to march back out, tightly gripping her clutch at her side. Wait, her clutch?!

Binna must have handed it over to her, assuming she might need it. She had said to text if she needed anything, and Y/N couldn’t exactly do that without a phone. Well, at least it was off. Y/N wasn’t totally sure what kind of phenomenon had disrupted her life, but it all started with that phone. 

No sooner had she backed away from the mirror than a wave of dizziness overtook her, sending her keeling forward. Instinctively, she clutched the sink to maintain her balance, almost screaming out when she looked up as the dizzy feeling passed. 

The mirror in front of her was the same as always, a reflection of her wide, mortified eyes. But the long glossy mirror that made up the entire wall of the bathroom at the entrance of the restroom? 

A reflection of another room, just like before. “No…” she whispered, not ready to admit that it was happening again. What was worse? All of it being real, or her losing her mind? “Not again…!”

She clenched her eyes shut, then attempted to get her feet moving. She would keep her head down and hurry right on past, to the exit. That was the plan at least. And she was making good progress to move without falling over in her modest heels, but the minute she actually got closer to the mirrors, a strange feeling overwhelmed her. 

Almost like a compulsion to stop. Y/N felt like she was watching a scene in a movie, watching a victim wander down the hall of a haunted house, towards the homicidal attacker lying in wait.

 Her feet were making her move on her own! Her fingertips reached out, and yet she had no control. She had to touch the mirror, see if that room on the other side was real. But deep down, she knew the answer before her fingers made contact.

It was a strange emotion somewhere between surprise resignation when she wobbled onto a floor that was not marble and found her eyes darting around a room that was not the steak house. 

Pressing against the mirror desperately, she confirmed what a large part of her had assumed. There was no give to the mirror, apparently no way back from the time being. Was she even still in Gangnam?

Her senses were feeding her all kinds of information, and frankly, it was starting to overwhelm her. The raw scents of sweat, male musk, and ammonia could only mean one thing, and it was further proven when she peered around the blind corner of a painted brick wall, only to see two people exercising. 

Well, one was doing stretches, and with the way he hopped up, he had just finished. An older man in a tank top and sweats had pads strapped to his hands, and Y/N watched closely, not even daring to breathe, as the younger man sat down and laced boxing gloves onto his taped hands. 

He stood up, and who she assumed was his trainer got into a defensive stance while the younger man hopped around nimbly. Y/N watched, wide-eyed as they began to train, the guy in the black hoodie practicing blocking, jabbing and dodging.

 It was clear he had put a lot of dedication into this. Y/N was never much of a sports person, but she knew the result of hard-work when she saw it. His moves were fluid, and instead of slowing down, they got quicker the more he went at it. 

Somehow, it never felt like a good time to draw their attention to herself, go wobbling over in her dinner attire, and ask for directions back to the High Tower SteakHouse. She had a few other options, of course, like calling Binna. Or maybe Chin-Mae…but how did she explain it? 

She had gone to the restroom for a few minutes and wound up in a completely different location without leaving the restaurant?! Then again, it meant they would really have no choice but to believe her. 

It was impossible for her to have gone anywhere far when they all saw her leave for the bathroom. Maybe she could sneak out while they were distracted and then call when she was outside the gym, not standing around all conspicuous.

Y/N was weighing the merits of her plan when she heard an excited yell, whipping her head around and watching the trainer give his client a few congratulatory pats on the back, apparently satisfied with the work he’d put in for the day. 

They began speaking lowly to themselves, and Y/N paled when she noticed the only door out of the room she could spot was behind them…. The corner she was standing behind seemed to be where the water fountains and locker rooms were located. 

Hiding out in there was another option, but it didn’t exactly appeal when she would have to keep checking to see when the gym was empty. Right now it was just the two of them, but what if more people came in? 

They’d have questions about someone being dressed like she was, right? Then again she could also be found out just staying put where she was. Ugh…it was beyond frustrating. 

Her luck was completely shot, huh?

A little hope returned when the trainer waved at the young man and then began heading for the exit. She assumed they were done for the day, and the second guy would be done soon too. But not so, because then she’d actually be lucky. 

As soon as his trainer had cleared the room, he gave a loud sigh, beginning to shimmy out of his hoodie. Y/N didn’t think she was close enough to make the door in the small moment he had his vision obstructed, but she was close enough to get an eyeful.

 If his training earlier hadn’t tipped her off that he was dedicated, his physique would have. He was all hard lines, though the minuscule glimpse of a thin waist when his shirt rode up with his hoodie was impressive too.

 She could see a full sleeve of tattoos decorating one arm, and coupled with his longish two-toned hair, a deep brown that gave way to a raging red, he was kind of…hard to look at. Distracting in a way she didn’t anticipate. She didn’t get distracted, not usually.  

He, on the other hand, got straight to business. Oblivious of her presence, he walked right over to the large, hanging punching bag and began to hit it. But he wasn’t just hitting it. Again, Y/N was no boxing aficionado, but she knew he knew what he was doing. 

His strikes were always controlled, his breathing never ragged the way she could guess hers would be. He pivoted on his back foot, and she knew that the small movement put more power into his strikes.

 He was hitting the bag like it owed him money, grunting occasionally, the muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing in his t-shirt. At some point, Y/N figured he would stop. He would either head out the door, or into the locker room, and that was when she would flee. 

Hopefully, wherever the cruel cosmic entity that thought her life was a joke had dumped her, it wasn’t very far from the restaurant. Then again, shouldn’t she have gotten a worried text by now? 

She’d been gone for a while. Or, maybe Binna had actually come to check on her and seen that she had disappeared entirely. Y/N could imagine the freak out as Binna flailed her way back to the table and informed Min Su and Chin-Mae that somehow, someway, she’d been kidnapped. 

What was her life lately, she thought miserably. With nothing to really do but scroll her phone or continue to watch the mystery man go at it, she turned to checking what news was trending for the day. Normally, she at least kept up with news involving the business world, if nothing else.

 The celebrity gossip blogs she left to Binna, BTS investment notwithstanding. Stocks were up at several companies she had an interest in working at after graduation—assuming she made it with her life in chaos lately—so that was good.

 A CEO had resigned from his post at a company she had almost interned at but decided not to at the last minute off a strange feeling. Some scandal involving embezzlement. So she dodged a bullet there.

 And, lastly, BTS’ Jungkook had endorsed some new sports brand, and now merchandise was selling out faster than it could be restocked. The article included a picture of Jungkook, posing in shorts and a t-shirt next to a mountain of different athletic gear for various sports. 

Wait. Y/N could have swallowed her tongue. Wait. That man, the man in the picture and the one boxing…were the same person?!

Feeling like she may just be sick, Y/N did a quick check, and really took in the boxer. That was undoubtedly the idol pictured in the article. 

Not only was she going to jail for assaulting one BTS member (albeit on accident) a fact that she had managed to forget up until that moment, she got pulled back into the same thing that got her in trouble before, and ended up crossing paths with another one?! 

Once it came out what happened between her and Park Jimin, there was no possible way people would believe she wasn’t a sasaeng. The circumstantial evidence just kept getting more and more damning. 

Jungkook. Jungkook. What did she know about Jungkook? Admittedly not much, considering all her focus had really been on Jimin for obvious reasons. She knew…that Binna said he was the youngest in the boy group. He was multitalented, and here her friend swore she wasn’t exaggerating or anything.

 According to her, he was like some kind of Barbie of idols, he could do it all. Those weren’t her exact words, but it was the gist. Jungkook also had a habit of being a little shy around members of the opposite sex, or so it was claimed. 

Y/N personally had always thought all idols had to be manufacturing some parts of their personalities for public consumption. Who knew which parts? None of the scraps of information she had been fed told her anything about whether he was liable to press charges for stalking him or not.

Then again, he was an idol, and knowing that, Y/N had to assume he had gone out of his way to book private gym time, hence why the spacious work out room was empty save for him. Which meant him catching her was going to lead to a world of trouble. 

How good were her odds if she just booked it for the exit the minute he went back to the locker room? Or if he left, she’d wait a little bit to be sure he had cleared the building, then she’d leave too. Waiting…yep…that’s all she could do. If she wasn’t in a dress, and didn’t find the idea so dirty, she would slump over on the floor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook caught the punching bag as it swung back from his last strike, finally feeling satisfied with his boxing for the time being. His limbs had that good burn that he liked, and his heart rate was up, despite his controlled breathing. But he wasn’t ready to leave just yet, so he decided to switch from boxing to something new. After a break.

Unlacing his boxing gloves, he found his gym bag and rummaged inside for his water bottle. Sitting down on a mat, he took a few sips, trying not to gulp it down too fast. His bottle was empty in no time, despite his attempts at moderation, and refilling before he resumed working out didn’t seem like a bad idea. 

His footsteps echoing in the big empty gym was probably his imagination, but the weird sight when he rounded the corner? That he was pretty sure was real. Leaning against the wall, a woman…no, a girl, dressed up like she had somewhere important to be was nodding off. He froze, staring, all kinds of thoughts flying through his head. 

Who was she? How’d she get in? When did she get in? Was she dangerous? Did he need to call for back up? Jungkook had purposely began training at this gym because it was exclusive. As his fame had grown, unfortunately he had to stop using more easy to find public gyms.

 The one at HYBE was an option, but sometimes he wanted something…quieter. Trainees who came in meant well, and they tried to be respectful besides giving him friendly greetings, but they couldn’t help but gawk, and that made it awkward when he was trying to get in the zone. Here, he had thought, was perfect.

But maybe he was rushing to conclusions. He didn’t know anything about the situation besides a girl in a nice dress was falling asleep by the water fountains while standing up. Her head slumped forward, then snapped up quickly as she jolted awake, eyes wide and alert. 

That was when they locked gazes, and his loose, sore muscles tensed right up. She, on the other hand, curled away like she was facing a thug in an alley. It was bemusing; yeah he’d bulked up a lot in the last several years after he got serious about training. Jungkook never considered himself all that intimidating, though. 

“Are you… staff?” he asked, since it didn’t seem like she was going to speak up first. Not with the way she kept looking like the guillotine was coming down on her head any moment. 

It took a reasonably long time for her to compose herself and answer, which was another pretty big tip off that something was not right. He was ready to whip out his phone and call security. Or at least he would be, if he hadn’t put it on do not disturb and left it in his bag. 

“This is all a misunderstanding, really,” she warbled, her hands slapped the wall behind her like she was trying to steady herself. “I didn’t…I didn’t mean to be here.”

“What?” Jungkook was definitely growing suspicious. No one who wasn’t up to something just answered like that.

“I was just going to wait until you left and I guess I started to nod off…” she ran a shaky hand through her hair, disturbing it a little. “But really, please, if you’ll pretend you never saw me, I promise, I’ll be on my way.”

He backed away quickly as she lurched forward, but before he could tell her not to do anything funny, she bowed very formally, and the idol watched, perplexed. When he didn’t respond in any way, she resumed her upright position, then tried to brush by him with her head down. 

Though, when he noticed the phone clenched tight in her fist, he acted without thinking. Something his hyungs had told him to be careful of doing in the past. At least they weren’t around to scold him.

“Hey,” he seized her wrist, and she stopped in her tracks, though he wasn’t expecting her reaction at all. Her eyes took in the hand on her like she could just flay it off with the intensity of her stare alone, and then she met his eyes head-on, hers surprisingly stony. “Your phone…”

“What about it?” she tried tugging her hand away, but he wasn’t ready to let go just yet. Not until he got some answers. He liked this gym. He wanted to keep using this gym, and at the thought that his privacy was being invaded yet again, and he would have to find somewhere else, yet again, he was getting a little worked up. 

“That’s an Army phone, a Galaxy Z Flip 4: Army Edition.”

Her eyes widened, and then she scoffed, shaking her head. “Yeah, I guess you would know. But to tell you the truth, though I can admire your band’s marketability, this phone itself has been nothing but problems. This is just the latest one. Now, please, let go.” There was some bite in her tone now, her voice surprisingly stern. 

When she tugged again, he acquiesced, something she probably didn’t expect, since she stumbled before catching herself. And when she felt her cellphone tugged right out of her hand? She rounded on him, scowling. “That belongs to me.” She held her hand out, clearly expecting it back.

“Why are you here? This is a private gym, and you don’t sound like you’re staff.”

She snatched for the phone, but he held it away, using his speed to his advantage. “Are you Army?”

“What? No,” she sounded offended by the notion, which in turn offended him. Then again, a true Army wouldn’t do this to him. Wouldn’t invade his space. “And what does that matter?”

“You’re not Army but you’ve got a phone that’s a rare exclusive. Only Army would want to own something like this. And if you’d go this far, you might be a sasaeng.” 

Here, she did pause in trying to retrieve her phone, a bit red in the face under her makeup. “Please, between my class schedule and internship, who would even have the time? The people who think stalking and harassing idols is worth jeopardizing their future for really need…” Surprisingly, the girl tried to jump for the phone like she wasn’t in heels, but he held it above his head, which meant it was way above hers, “…a hobby!”

“So I won’t find pictures you secretly took on this?” Jungkook squinted, not convinced. 

“No!” She hissed, jumping again, “Now who’s invading whose privacy, you…you muscle-headed, bunny-eyed brute!” 

He was so taken aback, he faltered, and with one last pounce, the mystery girl had snatched the phone, though not without a cost.

 Before she could even yell out in triumph, her heel wobbled and her foot rolled. Jungkook watched in slow motion, wincing in automatic sympathy as she went down. 

Time sped up as she cried out, on the ground and clutching her ankle in a dress too nice to be touching the bare gym floor. He stood over her, carefully watching her face at first. He could tell she was in pain, but attempting not to show the extent.

 Something about that alone…took him back to his early days. A wave of nostalgia he didn’t want to feel washed over him. He would hide his exhaustion, sometimes even hide injuries sustained while on stage until the end of a performance, until he couldn’t hide it anymore, just to avoid worrying his hyungs.

 And when they caught him, like they inevitably always did, he’d cry, apologize, worry they would resent him. It didn’t make sense to everyone, probably only to those who had experience firsthand with the feeling. Not wanting to let others down, wanting to live up to everyone’s expectations, struggling with the fact that they were still human.

The girl gingerly tried to shift her injured ankle, and that alone seemed to send a fresh wave of pain throbbing through it. With the way she bit her lip and clenched her eyes to stifle the cry he could just tell. 

And even though Jungkook had been concerned about a million things regarding her appearance, including that she might be another delusional ‘fan’, no one could fake pain that expertly. Plus, she’d have to be some actress to make her ankle swell on command.

 It was probably stupid of him to drop his guard, even for a second, but he found himself dropping to his knees, almost reaching out, and then hesitating. She stared up at him through her lashes, her own eyes as guarded as his had been, but wavering as she focused on ignoring her obvious injury. “I need…I need to call my friend.”

Making up his mind, Jungkook loosely grasped her foot by the heel, ignoring her half-hearted attempts to swat his hand away. He extended her leg, careful not to hurt her as he manipulated her foot to get a better idea of how bad it was. “You rolled it pretty hard.” He finally concluded.

“Yeah, no kidding.” Jungkook briefly met eyes with her again, but she stubbornly looked away. “I wonder how that happened.”

Guilt hit him pretty fast. Yeah. Even if he thought she was an intruder, he should have just called security and let them handle it. They were never far, and there was no way she could have stopped him. Not by physically overpowering at least. 

“Hang on,” he told her, setting her foot down and getting back on his feet. “I can help.”

“That’s a nice gesture,” she ground out, failing to hide a wince, “But really, I have my phone, so I can just call my fri—” she grabbed it and opened it, only for her face to fall. “Really? Now?” He heard her grumble irritably.

Noticing his quizzical face, turned a blank screen to him. “It’s dead.” She deadpanned. 

“Okay, then let me help.”

Jungkook didn’t know this stranger by any stretch of the imagination, but he had anticipated what her response would be. It probably sounded something like “no”, since she seemed disinclined to take his help.

 Was she always like this, so stubborn? Was it some kind of pride thing? He had been there, too; his hyungs really had their hands full with him over the years, didn’t they? 

Retrieving the first aid kit Jimin had gifted him some time back, he made a brisk return to find the girl in much the same position he had left her, staring sulkily at her injured ankle. She looked up when he approached, but didn’t say a word. 

“You might have to take off your shoe.” he informed her.

He waited to get a response, the big plastic kit held by his side. Jungkook wondered if she just planned to ignore him, and if he should take her silence as consent and proceed, but that didn’t feel right. Finally, she mumbled, “…This is really happening…isn’t it?”

Nodding slowly, he popped the kit open and examined its contents, locating the roll of compression wrap. While he did that, he noticed her leaning forward, trying to unstrap her heel without moving in a way that would hurt her foot even more. 

Jungkook had never worn heels, but he always thought anyone who did without falling over must have some hidden talent. Hers weren’t as tall as some, but she was still plucking at the strap with building frustration. 

Guessing she wanted it over and done with just as bad as he did, the idol seized the heel of her foot again, bringing her leg out and reaching for the buckle himself.

If he expected a beaming smile and a grateful attitude, he’d be sorely mistaken. She gave him the stink eye. “I can do at least this much.”

“Maybe, but I can do it faster.” He shrugged, already loosening the heel and sliding it off while holding her foot steady. From so close, and without the shoe in the way, he could really see just how fast the ankle had discolored and swollen. Again, he wrestled with the guilt, absently reaching for the wrap. “So,” he began by holding her ankle at a ninety-degree angle, “Who are you? Because this doesn’t mean I forgot…”

“Believe me, I’m someone who doesn’t want to be here anymore than you want me to be here. I didn’t have a choice, not that you’d ever believe me…” she huffed. “But, because legal repercussions are probably unavoidable, I’ll start by being cooperative. Maybe when they review all this, that’ll work in my favor.” It sounded like she was talking to herself, not him, but then she cleared her throat and extended her hand. “My name is L/N Y/N.”

Jungkook didn’t expect such a strange introduction, and the attempt at a handshake reminded him of Namjoon-hyung. He grasped her palm very briefly, barely holding on to it long enough for their hands to go up and down, but she didn’t seem inclined to want to hold onto him either.

“Y/N…” he repeated. 

“As for what I’m doing here…well, again, it’s not something any sane person would believe.” She switched her focus to watching him meticulously wrap her ankle. It was pretty careful care for someone that could have been stalking him, but he had already started, and if he was going to do it, his sense of perfectionism said he had to do it right. 

“Are you…insane?”

“Excuse me?” She didn’t look very amused, but he guessed it wasn’t exactly a polite question.

“You said a sane person wouldn’t believe you…” he explained. 

“I am not insane,” Y/N rubbed a hand to her forehead. “I just feel like I am lately,” she whispered. “I was dining out with some friends, in the restaurant bathroom and then…”

Jungkook waited while he secured the wrap with some bandage clips and closed his first aid kit. “And then?”

“It’s going to sound insane,” she finished matter-of-factly, “You’re going to call me a liar and accuse me of stalking you, then we’ll be right back where we started.”

Jungkook was torn between still wanting to contact security, but also experiencing some curiosity he couldn’t quite tamp down. “Do you have proof?” It didn’t sound like she did. 

“Proof?” Y/N repeated, arching a brow as if he had just said something strange.

“You’re not even going to try to make me believe you?” he goaded. 

“Sure, help me up and I’ll hobble right over to the mirror. You’ll see exactly how I got here and this whole think’ll be cleared up just like that.” Her tone was so sugary the sarcasm was evident. 

Jungkook figured he had indulged this for this long…why not go all the way. Offering her a hand, he warned her to brace herself, and then pulled her up with ease. “Okay.”

“Okay?” She said warily, trying not to show him how much she was utilizing the wall for support. 

“Okay,” Jungkook nodded, “Show me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Idols were weird. Y/N wasn’t sure if it was just the fact that they lived in a completely ‘different world’ from normal people or what, but she hadn’t expected her first extended run-in with some world-famous celebrity to go like this. 

Park Jimin was one thing; he’d been concussed, so that was enough to make him loopy. She hadn’t expected anything out of his mouth to make sense. But this guy, Jean Jungkook? 

Totally different. He wasn’t suffering a head injury, for one. And he had seemed angry at first, but still handled her appearance in much the same way a mean boy on the playground would in elementary school. Playing keep away with her phone, really?

He’d even treated her with decency when she tripped and sprained her ankle. God, that was yet another thing she was going to have to deal with. Sprained her ankle! Sprained! How was she supposed to get around campus quickly? It was huge. Though she supposed that wasn’t a concern at present. 

The idol’s strange demand was at the forefront of her mind, seeing as he was right behind her while she hobbled slowly to the mirror, her heel in one hand and her phone in the other. 

She must have looked like a suffering pigeon, doing a funny little hop. But she refused to let him touch her after she got her bearings. It was humiliating enough to have someone see her make a fool of herself and get injured to boot, idol or no idol. Well actually, his status made it even worse. 

And he was watching her oh so closely as she made it to the mirror, taking a deep breath and turned around to look at him with some difficulty. “Here it is.” She said flatly. “How I got in, and how I probably would be able to get out, if life felt like cutting me a break.”

He stepped around her, staring at her incredulously like she knew he would. She would look at herself that way in his position. Jungkook pressed against the mirror with the flat of his hand, one good time, as if to confirm it was solid. “You used the mirror? What, like magic? Like a drama?”

“You’re the one who said you wanted proof; I never said it would satisfy you.” she retorted. “I barely understand it myself, but what I’m saying is the only truth I have to cling to.” Her chin dipped, “No matter how implausible it is…” 

She knew she would get the same result he had when she pushed on the mirror, but as if to confirm her fate was truly sealed, Y/N tried anyway. When her hand went right through, the cool glass giving way to cool nothingness, she yelled, pitching forward.

Jungkook made a noise, something startled, and she glanced at him to confirm he was seeing what was happening. His bulging eyes made it evident that he was. Yes! Y/N jerked her arm away too fast, and in doing so almost fell back on her ass, if not for the lightning reflexes of the idol who moved to extend an arm around her waist.

 Y/N got her bearings, smoothed a hand over her shirt and her racing heart, and tried to hold back her tears. He could see. He could really see. The weeks of going crazy in silence, holding it all in, and someone else…could see.

“Your arm went through the glass,” he breathed.

“More than my arm’s gone through.” Y/N spoke with more confidence, now that there was no way he could deny it. “That’s…how I got here.”

The idol once again moved forward, pressing both hands against the mirror. Nothing. “How?” He wondered.

“I don’t know.” Y/N replied, “It’s been happening since…since I got this phone. So that’s my only theory, that the events are connected.” She held up the dead device and wiggled it around. “Not that that’s a story anyone would believe if I got caught breaking and entering.” 

The idol appeared to be thinking, worrying his lip piercing with his tongue, “Unless they saw it.”

Y/N squared her shoulders, eyeing him up and down. He fidgeted, looking small somehow, despite being fairly tall with a healthy amount of muscle. From close up it was even easier to see than watching him from behind the wall. 

“It might come as a surprise for you to know, not everyone would be as cavalier as you about all this. In fact, I’d go as far as saying your reaction was a bit…strange. Has anyone told you that you’re odd?”

  ‘Nice going, Y/N.’ She thought bitterly, ‘That was over the top blunt. You’re not trying to make an enemy out of the very first person to be witnessing the crazy with you.’

Luckily, the idol didn’t look overly offended. Jungkook pursed his lips, big eyes sheepish as he rubbed his head. “Uh-huh, my hyung.” he said thoughtfully.

“Well…” Y/N gestured vaguely. “Now that you’ve seen what I’ve seen, you know about as much as I do. Would it be too much trouble to ask if I could…go?” Pointing a thumb toward the mirror like she was about to miss her cab would seem dumb if he didn’t know. 

“Oh, right,” Jungkook’s tapped the mirror again. “You’re going back to where you came from.”

“Ideally,” Y/N frowned, “I’ve been gone a long time. There’s no way my friends aren’t concerned about that. And when they can’t find me who knows what they’ll think.”

Somewhat afraid the give they had both witnessed was a one-off, Y/N pressed her hand to the mirror once again, happy when it rippled and went right through. It might have been too late to salvage the evening with her friends, but at least she could salvage her reputation.

[nonbinaryeggrolls]

Battle of the Larynx I

Miguel O’Hara x afab!reader

Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3, Pt. 4

Synopsis: Having Spider-Man as a boyfriend was becoming increasingly more difficult, and his reoccurring absence is tearing you apart

A/N: hi y’all! ik ive been so MIA with my stories lately. if im being honest sometimes i just don’t have ideas for new chapters or how to continue in progress stories, but hopefully i can get some more done soon! but for now enjoy this quick Miguel O’Hara story cuz i am OBSESSED with this man atm

Inspired by Battle of the Larynx by Melanie Martinez!

Warning: smut (fingering), toxic relationship, ANGST (yk i fucking live that shit), neglectful Miguel, LONG ASS CHAPTERS

MINORS DNI. AGELESS AND MINOR BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

You knew what you were getting yourself into when he told you. You knew the nights that laid ahead for both of you filled with his crying and screaming after a failed mission led to a loss of innocent life. You knew the days would consist of hours holding your breath wondering if he was alive or not, and finally exhaling when he arrived there at your doorstep; battered and bloody but still, he was there. That was really the only promised you asked Miguel to keep— be there. You could handle him leaving randomly and not coming home until 2 in the morning, it was his obligation as a hero and that came before anything else. But he also took an obligation as your partner to be present when it mattered most, and according to him he cherished that concept with his life. So if that was the case why wasn’t he here now?

Miguel had been gone for 5 days now, longer than he’s ever been gone for. Five days of nothing, no calls, texts, emails, even an owl with a note would’ve sufficed at this point but he chose to leave you in the dark yet again. You touched up your mascara in the shiny elevator door reflection as you prepped yourself for the celebration party you and your art school classmates planned after you all landed the animation internship. What was supposed to be a chance for your friends to finally get to know Miguel was clearly turning into yet another evening third wheeling other couples. Another night of watching girls curl up with their lovers while you downed a spiked lemonade to forget about yours. This was the 26th time Miguel had abandoned an important event with no notice whatsoever (yes you’ve been keeping track). It started with simple things like picnic dates or small get togethers, then his absence gradually became more impactful. Missed family dinner’s, birthdays…anniversaries. Disappearing for days on end with no check ins, it was becoming torture. It was becoming increasingly obvious that people started to question whether or not you even had a boyfriend, and slowly you did too…

To Miggy 🧸:

please tell me you’re coming tonight, you know this means a lot to me Miguel

4:23

can you just call me and let me know youre alive at least????

4:49

i hope youre chaffing in your suit asshole

8:14

The elevator door opened letting you onto the top floor of Alchamex, it was pointless checking but you always did anyways. You crept your way into his office hoping to see his usual tired figure slumped over in his chair, ready for you to nag him like you usually do to take a break and eat something, but the only thing occupying the space was scattered papers. You looked through his window that towered over the Nueva York city streets trying desperately to hold back the tears that were fighting their way out.

“Y/N?”

Y/N: “Jess! Im- Im really sorry.” You turned your head only slightly so she couldn’t see your puffy eyes.

Jess: “Y/N, you’re part of reception you know you can get in a lot of trouble being up here without authorization.”

Y/N: “I know I know I just…I thought Miguel be here.” You mumbled between hiccups that came up from you failing to hide your sobs. Jess wasn’t stupid, it didnt take a genius to know what you were upset about, or who you were upset about, “If you um… if you see him can you just ask him to come home please.” Working through your sniffles, you wiped your face with your sleeve and made your way out of the office before she even had time to respond

Jess sighed feeling a twitch of anger brew inside her towards the young man, she scowled and muttered obscenities under her breath as she dialed Miguels number…

The next week came and you missed the party entirely, the calls from all your friends and colleagues went unanswered. Honestly, your self esteem couldn’t take another embarrassing, lonely entrance into an event that Miguel was supposed to accompany you too. Another endless night of sympathetic looks and pity hugs. 

The clock read 7:48 pm when you arrived home from work, another day of taking calls and booking meetings for a man that wasn’t even there half of the time. With a heavy sigh you set the bags of groceries you had in hand down in order to get your keys out of your back pocket. The space was dark and cold when you walked in, it had been for the last week. You stocked the fridge with your new groceries then before taking a quick shower and finishing your nightly routine. You were in the middle of applying your night cream when you heard a loud thud causing you to finally leave the bathroom. In the corner of your eye you caught a glimpse of a tall dark figure emerging from the window. You let out a shriek managing to fumble everything in hand as you scrambled to find your pepper spray.

Miguel: “Woah woah! Relax it’s just me! it’s me Y/N!” Usually you’d be used to Miguel’s late night window entrances but it had been so long since you last saw him you forgot he even did it. He turned on the living room light revealing his tired and bruised figure. He was still dressed in his spider suit, the suit you excitedly spent hours on your ipad drawing and redrawing to get the perfect design; now you hated the sight of that thing.

Y/N: “Miguel?”, seeing him gave you relief knowing it wasn’t an intruder, but the anger that’s been stirring in you for the last 2 weeks slapped you back to reality. Silence filled the space between you two, neither of you taking the initiative to speak first. It took 2 weeks for him to come back and you weren’t going to wait another second waiting for him to find the balls to say something.

Miguel: “Y/N please wait!…” he pleaded when you turned away and slammed the bedroom door behind you. You plopped down onto your mattress, you were exhausted and couldn’t stand to look at his face anymore, but you felt the empty bed space behind you dip with his weight.

Miguel: “Congratulations on your internship cariño, I knew you’d get it…” No response. “I…I got this for you. Y/N?” If you turned around you’d see the small gift wrapped box he held in his hand but you were motionless. This new silence terrified him. The possibility of you finally giving up on him made his heart sink a little

Miguel: “Y/N I’m really really sor—

Y/N: “Just shut up Miguel, shut up already…” you finally spoke through gritted teeth, “You’ve never cared about a single thing that I care about, if you did then you would’ve been there like you said you would but you weren’t! SO JUST FUCKING SHUT UP!” you sobbed and curled your legs closer to your chest

Miguel: “I know you’re angry at me… but Y/N I really am sorry. I’m sorry that I didn’t call you or text you. I’m sorry it took Jess calling me to make me realize how terrible I was being. I should’ve been there to take you to your friends party, like I promised I would. I wanna be someone you can count on and trust but I’m screwing it all up.”

At this point Miguel had already stood up from the bed, you could feel the floor thump as he paced back and forth trying to find the right words to say to you. You couldn’t help but peek over at him, he looked horrible with his head in his hands and blood and dirt still caked on his suit. Regardless of how angry you felt towards Miguel you always took pity on the poor man. He loved you with everything he was and everything he wasn’t, all he wanted was to be everything you ever needed, but you were the first woman he had ever been with since Dana and Gabriella passed. You knew loving you was like learning to walk again.

You called his name in your soft voice. His head shot up, you were finally facing him with your arms open inviting him in for a hug. Miguel practically jumped from his seat and into your arms. Words couldn’t describe how good it felt to feel your touch and even though he smelled like ash and rubble you felt exactly the same, practically crying as you melted into his hold

Y/N: “I thought you were dead Miggy, you can’t keep putting me through this I can’t take it.” He settled deeper into your embrace and rested his head into the crook of your neck

Miguel: “I know, I’ll be better for you…” You felt his lips latch onto your neck and pepper you in small kisses, “I love you Y/N. I love you so much.” He groaned against you, pushing his stiffened member against your groan and pulling out a desperate moan from your lips

Y/N: “I…I love you too Miggy…fuck!” You screamed has he drove his thick fingers into your already soaking cunt. Every curl and thrust against your plush walls pushed you closer and closer to your edge.

You cried against his shoulders. There were times when the space that was wedged between you two felt infinite then dwindled every time he came back home to you.

It was euphoria, to feel him with you again.

But every high has to come down at some point.

The sound of arguing pulled you from your sleep. It was 2 in the morning when you rolled over to see a space where Miguel was originally sleeping beside you. It wasn’t unusual for Miguel to wake up in the middle of the night to work at the kitchen table or yell to Jess about some other spider variant that messed up a mission; one named Peter seemed to come up very frequently. However it seemed like this specific conversation went on for a fairly long time, you could even begin to here Miguel’s voice shake with whoever he was speaking to.

You slipped on a new t shirt from Miguel’s drawer since the clothes you previously had on had been ripped to shreds. His voice became more and more clear as you made your way down the hall

Miguel: “Do you already have an idea on who it could be?…Fuck. Okay, I’ll *sigh* I’ll be there soon.” He hung up and pinched the bridge of his nose in a mixture of frustration and disappointment.

Y/N: “Youre leaving again aren’t you?” Your voice startled him out of his sulk.

Miguel: “…Jess suspects there’s a spider variant that’s purposely letting anomalies run loose in other dimensions. I have to handle this Y/N...”

7 hours, it took 7 hours to fall into the same old routine. It was honestly amusing at this point, all you could do was laugh. How stupid you were to think things could be any different. How stupid you were to think that HE could be any different.

Y/N: “Are you fucking serious?!” You shouted

Miguel: “Y/N Stop it, not right now please. I need you to just go back to bed and let me—

Y/N: “Let you what?! Let you leave me and come back anytime you find it convenient? How long are you gonna be gone this time Miguel, a month this time? Do you even care about the promise you kept to me? Or do I even cross your mind when you’re out there dimensions away from home playing hero for everyone else but me? This isn’t a hotel Miguel, this is our home! At least that what it fucking used to be!” You fumed. He towered above you but that didn’t stop from getting in his face, “It’s not fair Miguel! You don’t get to leave me alone for weeks and come back and fuck me thinking that’ll make it all better! You have to be better!”

Miguel: “You need to stop acting like you’re the only person in my world that needs my attention! I’m not a monster for putting the safety of the multiverse first. Im sorry I can’t be here to rock you to bed and give you a kiss goodnight all the time. Sometimes we have to put personal matters on the back burner Y/N, it’s called responsibility!” He gathered his phone and the rest of his belongings off the kitchen table

Miguel: “I have enough to worry about as it is, having you and Jess blowing up my phone to go to some party with people I don’t even know doesn’t he—

Y/N: “What?” Your tone was softer and started to become laced with hurt, it was evident in the way your voice started to shake, “Jess called you that night and it took you a week to come back?”

Realization of what he just said settles in and it makes his brows furrow in frustration and both himself and you. When he looks over at you with that same stupid emotionless face he always has you can’t help but boil with anger. His nonchalance towards your problems made you curl your fist until your knuckles turned white

Y/N: “No you’re not a monster, but you are an ASSHOLE for making me believe you could balance work and me! Why are you even with me if you can’t—

Miguel: “This conversation is over, I have a job to do and youre keeping me from doing it.” He cut you off harshly, dismissing your concerns yet again.

Y/N: “I never asked you to sacrifice your obligations! I said from the beginning that being a hero comes first, just make some goddamn time for me now and then! Why Miguel? Why do I have to beg you to see my family at Christmas?! Why do I have to beg you to meet my friends or give me an ounce of attention?! Why do I have to ask you to care about me?!”, This was frustrating him too much, your lack of understanding was infuriating. Miguel had to leave before he said something he might regret. He turned away from you and your manic sobbing and made his way to the window seal without another word, afraid that he might damage things worse than they already were by speaking

Y/N: “If we switched places I wouldn’t DARE treat you as terribly as you treat me—

Miguel: “WELL YOURE NOT ME! YOU SIT AT A DESK AND DOODLE ON A FUCKING COMPUTER! YOUR CAREER IS A JOKE, A CHILD COULD DO WHAT YOU DO. YOU CONTRIBUTE NOTHING TO THIS WORLD, I DO.” His nostrils flared and his eyes burned red with anger, “SO DONT YOU DARE SPEAK ABOUT MY LIFE LIKE YOU KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT IT, WHAT IVE HAD TO SACRIFICE JUST TO MAKE THINGS RIGHT IN THIS WORLD!”

Y/N: “GOD. YOU ARE SUCH A CUNT!”

Miguel: “AND YOURE A REPLACEMENT!”

Miguels eyes widened and his rampage instantly stopped. You couldn’t believe the words that had just left his mouth, and honestly he couldn’t either. He didn’t mean it at all, he wanted to take back those words as soon as the left his mouth, he just wanted to leave. Why didn’t you just let him leave? He wouldve been right back. The air was thick and uncomfortable, your combined heavy breathing was the only thing filled the space between the two of you.

Miguel: “I…I’ll be right back.” There was a shakiness in his voice and in his movement when he stepped out onto the fire escape.

Y/N: “Dont come back. If you leave tonight…don’t come back Miguel.” You spoke in a tone barely above a whisper

Miguel: “We’ve said things we don’t mean…I’ll be back later to fix things.” His suit integrated onto his body and he leapt off of the building ledge. A blur of blue and red was the only trace he left behind.

The truth was out now, how Miguel really felt towards you. You were never a first priority or even a second or third, you were nothing but a soul to fill the space where something else was missing. His wife, his daughter, you never tried to stand in their place or become what they were to him, but now you knew that’s the only reason Miguel kept you around. You were his vice

Your heavy cries carried throughout the apartment as you laid in bed cradling the maroon cardigan that was in the gift box Miguel got you.

The spider society headquarters was empty and calm, but the office at the top floor was anything but. Miguel sat atop of his hovering platform brooding in silence in front of his computer monitors, It’d been like this since he arrived. Miguel was always stern and reserved, he never held a conversation with anyone other than Jess or Lyla so him being fairly quiet was normal. But for Miguel to not say anything at all was strange, and it didn’t take long for others to take notice of his behavior shift since leaving your apartment

Margo, Peter, and Jess were the last people at headquarters, after a long day of interrogating potential rogue variants the crew was finally successful and able to apprehend Spiderman on Earth-3360. What will happen to the young man wasn’t decided yet but catching him was a cause for celebration. The group sat around the cafeteria table sharing empanadas and Soju for a few minutes before they went back to their own universes

Margo: “Yeah Ive been in his office all day with him and Lyla and he’s barely said 2 sentences, he wasn’t even mean during interrogation. It’s like he didn’t have it in him to yell. I think he’s depressed or something.”

Peter: “I thought he was always depressed, that’s like his thing isn’t it? That’s why he’s not funny.” He joked and finished off the last empanada

Jess: “I don’t know but I need to get home, my back is killing me and I can’t deal with The Grinch any longer.” She said taking letters hand to help her up from the chair.

The group said goodnight to each other, Margo logged off and Jess went home to some much needed rest, honestly this line of work seems too dangerous for a pregnant woman. Peter made his way up to Miguel’s office, who he knew could hear the entire conversation thanks to his enhanced hearing.

Peter: “You know they’re right Miguel…” he shouted up to Miguel who was brooding on his platform

Miguel: “About what?” he asked in a condescending tone

Peter: “About you, you don’t think we’ve noticed you moping around all day. Do you wanna tell me what the deal is so you can stop pouting?” he swung onto the platform and took a seat next to Miguel, crossing his arms and sitting firm in place waiting for Miguel’s response but he was met with silence, “Is it the rogue variant? Cuz we’re not gonna let this happen again…”

Miguel: “No.”

Peter: “Miles? Gwen? Ben?”

Miguel: “No it’s none of them.” He turned his attention away from him and focused on organizing the handful of papers on his desk

Peter: “Then what is it? Is it Y/N?”

Miguel: “Did I say anything about Y/N?! Why even bring her up?!” He snapped, it was exhausting having to work and act like every terrible thing he said wasn’t weighing on his mind. Miguel couldn’t even interrogate the variant with losing focus, having to have Jess switch him out is gonna remain one of the most embarrassing points in his Spider-Man career. Peter was never a first choice for a sounding board, but it was only going to get worse for Miguel if he didn’t turn to someone for advice, because Lord knows he was terrible at handling relationship problems on his own

Miguel: “I said something bad, really really bad Peter…” he confessed. He took a seat in the chair next to him

Peter: “Do you wanna be more specific?”

Miguel: “I told her that her career was a joke. Then I called her…a replacement.” Peters eyes widened, he knew Miguel was capable of harsh words, he’d seen it first hand with Miles but this was unexpected. Especially with you, the girl he fawned over and practically stalked at work until you made the first move.

Peter: “Shit, Miguel. That’s really messed up…Did you mean it?” He asked

Miguel: “No of course not! I didn’t mean any of it, I was just frustrated. I’m not the bad guy for prioritizing my duties! She just wasn’t listening Peter, she wasn’t understanding any of what I was saying or where I was coming from. I didn’t mean what I said.”

Peter: “So why did you say it?!” Peter exclaimed

Miguel: “I DONT KNOW!”, He slouched over in his chair and cradled his head in his hands, his own words made him sick to his stomach. How he urged to tell you how guilty he was for what he said, for never being there, for making you feel like you didn’t mean anything, “I just wanted her to be quiet, everything she was saying was right but it made me feel guilty and awful. I wanted to make her feel worse than I felt. God I’m so fucking dumb…”

Peter: “You know I’m not good with this, it wasn’t long ago that I was a sad piece of shit too with a partner at home who basically couldn’t stand me. That being said, I also know that when it feels like nothing you say can make up for everything you said, and you said A LOT, maybe too much. I would never say something like that, that was insane…”

Miguel: “Peter…” he said through gritted teeth

Peter: “Sorry sorry, that being said when it feels like there’s nothing you can say that could make up for everything you said, a simple apology means more than you think it does. A real apology Miguel.” Peter looked at him, he didn’t need words to know that Peter was basically tell him to finally get his shit together.

Miguel: “What if she doesn’t accept it?”

Peter: “She will if you mean it…”

Passing buildings were a blur to Miguel, he was racing home so fast he couldn’t even focus on anything around him. While he swung from structure to structure he planned out every single thing he’d say to you, how he’s sorry for failing you in this relationship and he’d change for the both of you. He even tried to remember if there was still cinnamon in the spice cabinet so he could make you your favorite comfort drink, champurrado.

Miguel soon landed on the fire escape outside your apartment, you made a habit of leaving the curtains open for him so he could see if you were up or not and now it was an involuntary part of your routine. He peeked inside and saw you sleeping peacefully on your bed, hoping to come join you he tried to open the window but it wasn’t budging.

‘Had you locked it on purpose?’ He thought to himself, no you couldn’t have, you always left in unlocked for him. But when he saw the book you had used to block the window from being moved he panicked. Miguel knocked on your window, frantic and desperate

Miguel: “Y/N! Y/N! Unlock the window!” He pleaded. His knocking stirred you out of your sleep and you sat up in your bed, your puffy eyes on full display. When you finally looked over at him you were emotionless just as he was to you, it terrified him seeing you look at him with no longing or affection

Miguel: “Let me in…please cariño”, he begged

You were so tired, you were so tired of wondering why your boyfriend left you to question his love for you and now after tonight you know why. You stood face to face with him, the window still a barrier between you and him. It ate away at you but you couldn’t stand another night asking yourself why you weren’t getting the love you deserved. You had your answer and you didn’t need Miguel around anymore, not if you were going to be another substitute for what was missing.

Miguel: “Y/N…Y/N please wait!—

You closed the curtain in his face and went back to bed but it didn’t stop his knocking and pleading, begging for you to let him in and mend what he broke. It continued for an hour until you were convinced he eventually gave up and left. Him being gone finally gave you a chance to break down once again into your sheets, but Miguel sat on the fire escape listening to every choked out sob and hiccup you let out. Every painful cry the he caused you and now he wondered if he’d ever be able to fix it.

[beeshoesometimesdraws]

It is I, Soup.

For the centaur au, have any fun little tidbits or facts about Sun and Moon?

Correct me if I’m wrong but I don’t think you have any major stuff about them on your blog yet, and I’m a little curious about them.

If you don’t have anything to tell yet, go ahead and ramble about some other random character, I’ll enjoy it either way✨✨✨

(Sorry if these aren’t the kinds of question you wanted lol)

*gasp* it is the great Soup! :0

You’re all good! I love all the questions lol

Yeaaaah I’ve kinda neglected sharing stuff about them since most of the focus has been on the others though I’ll be happy to share what I have about them! :D

Sun ☀️

Sun is based off a palomino tennessee walking horse

Sun’s main job on the farm is planting and taking care of and harvesting the crops and also taking care of the smaller animals like the chickens and goats and pigs

Sun is also the one in charge of actually going out and selling whatever goods they have (fruits, vegetables, cheese and jams, eggs, wool, etc) as he does better with socializing and has more patience and energy than Moon does

Despite not working in a daycare in this au (that being Earth’s job), Sun is still very good with kids and, if they’re not busy, will sometimes stop by the daycare and help Earth with the kiddos

Sun likes to cook and bake and make jams using the strawberries and blueberries they collect and they often bake with Earth and Lunar when they have the time—their favorite things to bake are pies, specifically apple pie (they know how to do all the cool design stuff with the dough and make it look really neat and pretty)

Sun will often times let her cats ride along on her back as she does the chores (though they aren’t allowed in the chicken coop for obvious reasons)

Sun is still really big on cleanliness in this au and can spend hours cleaning the house and the barn and whatever else they’re able to get to to clean—Sun is also big on keeping themself clean as well as has one of the sleekest and shiniest coats of all the celestial fam

Sun is taller than Moon, if only by a few inches

Moon 🌙

Moon is based off a black and white paint

Moon’s main job on the farm is working with the sheep, with the help of Solar, and Sun when he’s available (raising them, moving and herding them between pastures, sheering and collecting their wool, etc)

Moon is also the main handyman on the farm alongside Solar

Moon is a big coffee drinker and will even eat the beans straight if he’s in a rush, he’s the “I can’t function until I’ve had my coffee” sort of guy

Moon is less concerned about cleanliness than Sun and has gotten himself chewed out by Sun a couple times for coming back to the house covered in mud and tracking it everywhere

Moon cannot cook or bake to save his life and is not allowed in the kitchen when the others are cooking or baking

Moon, sometimes with Sun or one of the others, goes to visit KC when he can (they are working things out and getting better though they still aren’t on the best of terms)

While he is calmer in this au than in canon, Moon can still get very angry if triggered and can be pretty damn scary when he is; the coyotes and wild cats who have tried to mess with his sheep and other animals have been on the receiving end of this, and so has Eclipse-

That’s all the little tidbits I have to share rn! I’ll start working on the designs for these two soon since I finally have some ideas on what I wanna do >:)

[soapskies]

Could I request some general yandere hcs for capullo/zero year riddler?

Im down bad for this man

Also just found your blog, and even tho it's new, your writings amazing!

YANDERE CAPULLO RIDDLER 🧩 ?¿

MALE READER. RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS. CONTAINS YANDERE TROPES AND SUGGESTIVE CONTENT.

— Thank you, anon! :D

One of the most difficult Riddler’s to put up with, even more so as a yandere, simply because he has absolutely no qualms about getting rid of anyone who gets in his way, especially if they are of no use to him.

That woman who gives you flirty looks at your job? Gone, off the face of the Earth, she may as well have never existed. That guy who brushed against your shoulder one time? Edward will run him through a meticulous puzzle trap, enjoying the way the blood leaves his face as he nears death, the pathetic brain-dead worm. He might even make you watch just so he can force you to play nice.

When he first grapples with his feelings, he’s beyond frustrated. He tried his hardest to forget about you. You’re just another average, brainless fool in a city full of them, and he’s the Riddler, for god’s sake!

But he can’t stop his thoughts from spiraling, can’t help envisioning you at his beck and call, subservient to him, being able to do whatever he wants with you…

Sooner or later he’ll kidnap you. It’s painful not being able to control a problem like this for him, you understand.

He convinces himself that it’s completely your fault that things had gotten to this point, like your a man sent by Satan himself to ruin his plans… not that he believes in such things.

He’s one of the sleaziest Riddler’s, and that definitely plays into the way he treats you

He sees you more like an object than a person, something he’s entitled to, and he makes damn sure to remind you of who owns your body and controls your autonomy.

He can never keep his hands off you, whether they’re gripping your waist, slung around your shoulders, caressing your chest or lingering on your thighs, all while he watches you squirm with a smirk.

I’d imagine his obsession with you is a love-hate sort of relationship. He views you as inferior, yet he wants you around him at all times, practically attached to the hip.

And my god does he love controlling every little aspect of your life, and keeping you tightly under his thumb. He’ll decide what you wear, what you eat, where you are, at all times…

It’s the only way he can scratch that insufferable itch in his brain, and deal with his obsession.

The only way he’d let you be around others is if he wanted to show you off, or embarrass you enough to bring your self-worth down.

He’ll humiliate you in front of others, hold you down, make you do unsavory things for him… all while enjoying himself.

If you dare act defiant, oh boy…

He’s not above keeping you on a leash, marking your skin up, branding you if you refuse to stay in your place

He wouldn’t severely injure you in any way, you’re already pathetic enough as you are… just enough on the skin so that it’s visible and permanent

Edward’s not particularly concerned about you “loving him back”, as long as you do what he says and behave. He accuses you of lusting after him, never admitting to it himself.

He’ll make sure there’s no chance in hell you’ll escape him, even if it means inserting tracking devices under your skin. Not that there are many chances to get away, given how you’re forced to be at his side practically every hour of every day. And who would even dare mess with the Riddler?

He’ll leave dark purple welts on your skin from where he bit down too hard, especially on your neck in the most visible of places, just so he can force you to wear shirts that show everybody who you belong to.

He’ll make you sit in his lap when he’s working or out in public, taking pride in how embarrassed you get

Maybe he’ll even tease the waistband of your boxers and threaten to take things further under the table if you don’t stop acting like a brat…

“What’s wrong? Afraid someone might notice how pathetic you’re acting? Why don’t you be a good boy and stay still for me…”