#from angry to confused to shocked to angry again

[rcmclachlan]

Fuck It Friday/Sentences Sunday/Motivation Monday (Musings)

Tagged by @screamlet and @firehose118 on Friday, @station18908 and @freneticfloetry yesterday, and @ambernotember, @zeraparker, and @chococara25 today

Here's some more of the s3 lawsuit arc alt meeting au that I actually wrote into the tumblr text editor just now. Do the kids still say YOLO?

+

Buck looks up and misses Peru and its huge, endless sky with a sudden, sharp ache. The LA skyline just seems to eat more of it every day. He remembers Maddie saying she got a bunch of calls during the blackout last year from people who were terrified of the giant, silvery cloud in the sky, because none of them had ever seen the Milky Way before. Sometimes he thinks he's going to look up one day and there'll be no sky at all—just a tangle of steel, concrete, and glass.

"The city wants to settle," Buck admits quietly, skirting the edge of full-on whispering. He keeps waiting for a reporter to jump out of the shadows and demand a quote. "They offered me twelve million dollars."

"Shit." Tommy lets out a low whistle, then shifts a little. It brings his arm up against Buck's. "Makes sense, I guess. The city's been hit with so much bullshit over the last few years that they'd probably throw in ownership of Library Tower to avoid the media circus alone. You gonna take it?"

While Buck was laid up on the 9th floor of First Pres after the bombing, he watched an episode of Modern Marvels on his phone centered around the history of dynamite, and when Bobby refused point blank to let him come back, all he could taste in the back of his mouth was nitroglycerine. It's been sweating out of his pores for weeks, crystalizing in every deposition he's been forced to sit through, building up at night when he can't sleep and when he checks his phone throughout the day hoping to find even one new text; and all the while he's been dreading the single spark that would send it all sky high.

He thinks of Eddie calling him exhausting in the middle of Howie's Market and tastes burnt caramel; hears Bobby's patronizing you're not ready like the crackle of a lit detacord; and the easy way Tommy makes the city's offer sound like a fair response to all of the shit Buck's been shoveling since the bombing is a shock out of nowhere.

Kaboom.

"I don't want money!" Buck explodes, sliding off the wall and shoving his hands into his hair. "I don't want a single, solitary dime, Tommy, I just want my job back!"

Normally, having someone stare at him the way Tommy's currently doing — like Buck just admitted to being a space alien or that he had a room full of porcelain dolls like his Uncle James — would be mortifying enough to shut him up, but he's been sweating nitroglycerin and no one's upended him to redistribute the weeping. There's no stopping him now. 

"D-Do you know how hard I worked to get to where I am? My doctors didn't think I'd be able to walk normally again, never mind run up ten flights of stairs with a full kit on! I did the training! I did the full course so many times I thought I'd die some days, but I-I passed every time. Every test they threw at me, I passed. I'm pretty sure they made a few up just to see if I could handle them — and I did. I did, and I was cleared by every person on that med panel and they all shook my hand and welcomed me back! I should be back!"

For a white-hot moment, he thinks he's going to take out the entire block with the sheer force of his anger. And despite being well within the blast radius, Tommy does nothing.

Panting, Buck closes his eyes and waits for the dust to settle. "Th-They covered my name."

"They what?"

"On my locker," Buck murmurs. When he opens his eyes, the world swims through a curtain of tears. "They... put her name over mine. Bosko. They just... taped right over it. Like a bandaid."

Even to his own ears, he sounds baffled. Not even angry; all his energy was expended during the blast. Now he's just hurt and confused, because no one told him. No one said they were bringing someone else in.

"I just... I don't understand how it was that easy for them."

"That what was easy?" Tommy asks, unbearably gentle, and it has Buck knuckling away a fresh, hot wave of tears. It sounds like how having your back rubbed while you're throwing up feels. Buck can barely tolerate it, but he's so grateful it's there all the same. 

Buck breathes out shakily and finally says it out loud. One final shockwave. "Replacing me."

+

No pressure tags: @beanarie, @setmeatopthepyre, @leashybebes, @geddyqueer, @dharmaavocado, @politenotice, @alchemistc, and @apollabarnes (plus everyone who tagged me first!)

[aeonianangel]

“see you later, babe.”

his words kept on echoing through my head as i zoned out on the train ride home, tuning out the volume and noise outside with my thoughts that were currently running at the speed of a f1 driver. after.. the incident i was practically a walking corpse the whole day, overcome by the weight of my actions. my friend’s attempts to wake me up from my daze by shaking and slapping my face repeatedly failed miserably after being paralyzed with shock.

what did i just get myself into?

i don’t even know this guy’s name!

as i laid in my bed i finally took the time to reflect on my actions. i don’t even know who this is.. and now i’m in a relationship with him? or was he just going along with it as a joke? i did notice him glancing at my friend behind me.. maybe he noticed and realized it wasn’t actually a serious confession.. that’s right… that must be it! there’s no way he’d be such an idio-

ping!

a notification from my phone took me out of my thoughts. i checked my notifications to see a message from an unknown number..? my face paled at the possibilities. wait.. is this the guy-

​Hi, it's AT&T. It's your last chance to get our any year, any condition offer with your upgrade. Trade in your old or broken iPhone at att&.com/ANN414 or visit an AT&T store today. Offer ends 9/15 9PM PT. Reply STOP to end mktg msgs.

wow, okay. just embarrassing.

right before i could fully wallow in my shame my phone started ringing again. the screen displayed a picture of my idiotic friend who decided to give me that dare. debating on ignoring the call i decided to pick up in order to tear into them for their stupid idea. i angrily hit accept as i brought the phone to my ear and raised my voice.

“dude, you’re such an idiot! why the hell would you make me confess-“

an unknown voice reached my ears, cutting off my angry rant.

“hello?”

who the fuck is that?

embarrassed by my previous words and anger being taken out on an unknown voice, i softened my voice into a less loud and aggressive tone.

“sorry, i didn’t know it was someone else on the phone! um.. who is this?”

“you don’t recognize my voice?”

“..not really?”

“hm.”

the call was silent for a few moments. i waited awkwardly for the male on the other side to continue his speaking and introduce himself only to be met with complete silence on the other end. growing irritated with his lack of response, i forced myself to continue the conversation.

“uh.. sorry, but are you gonna tell me who you are, or are you gonna keep being mysterious, or whatever you’re trying to do..?”

“i’m just surprised you don’t know the voice of the guy you confessed to earlier today.”

fuck.

my eyes widened as i felt the sweat start building up on my palms as i held the phone against my ear in a mix of confusion and fear. how does he know it’s me?! actually.. why does he have that idiot’s phone?! did they sell me out?!

i decided that i should end the uncomfortable conversation as soon as possible in order to keep myself from embarrassing myself any further.

“ahaha.. sorry! your voice sounds really different on call than in real life..! sorry..! uh.. i have to go.. my phone is glitching pretty bad! must be overheating or it might be the signal or somethi-“

“wait.”

my finger hovered over the end call button, frozen in fear.

“i forgot to find a way to contact you. good thing i spotted your friend, right?”

“haha… yeah.. good thing..”

i forced a laugh as i felt a vein ready to burst at the mention of my friend and how they were yet again the cause of my stress.

“i’ll send you a message when i get home. don’t forget to reply.”

“...of course!”

as if. i’m blocking his number as soon as he messages me!

“then, make sure you save my number. i’ll see you again…”

his steady voice was soft and soothing, but what he said at the end made me feel anything but calm as my eyes widened in realization from his words.

he knows my name?!

part 1 is here!

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

What if Stan got cursed to randomly break into song along with anyone in proximity?

Stan's life becomes a musical and he hates it.

Wait, wait.

Stan's cursed to live in a musical, and usually he's the only one who realizes that this is not normal. All his worst moments have catchy songs attached(Chewed Out! (trunk) Getting Lost (losing someone on his tail) Missing Pieces (kidney stolen) Dark Side of the Heart (Stan at the phone in the middle of the night), Bridge the Gap (Standing on a bridge))

Its awful. Can't sing to himself without one of his songs getting stuck in his head and bringing memories of his worst moments. He avoids people whenever he can because back up singers are the worst.

Then the post card (Shine a light), and the drive (Rush to Hope), and finally the door, (Bridge the Gap (revise)).

Stan knocks, Fords opens, everything's the same, right up until Fords shoves the book into Stan's hands and tells him to leave forever. Stan's frowning, shock going through him and turning it into rage, and the background music starts playing, Stan's already used to it, he's opening his mouth, staring to talk, and then-

Ford: What the?

Stan: Thats it?! (dun dun)

Ford: Where's the music coming from?

Stan, who can't not sing but is also weirded out that Fords acknowledging the music: You finally want to see me again after all these years! (Dun Dun)

Ford: Stanley, do you- no, no never mind (thinks its Bill)

Stan: And its to tell me to get as far away from you as possible? (DUN DUN)

Music plays, Fords staring at Stan in confusion and Stan's also confused on why Fords not singing as he bursts into song (Thrown away? Sail away? Final Push? Something angsty). Stan's singing his feelings out, about how he's been waiting for Ford to need him, doing his best out there in the world, and right when he's about to (Bridge the gap!) Ford turns and pushes him away.

Ford is not singing, he's sort of angry but also freaking out? Especially if the portal gets swept up in the curse and starts beeping along with the music. Its not turning away but Fords watching as the window in the back lights up and flashes with the buttons rhythmic tempo, metal creaks, the wood above them groans, the works. All of its to the music that Ford can here, but isn't compelled to sing to?

(Bill messed with his brain so much, or maybe a brain can only handle one puppeteer at a time)

But! The music makes do, it adapts, and there's dramatic pauses for Ford to yell his confusion or anger at whatever Stan's accusingly sung at him, right until Stan's only sort of compelled to burn the journal. Then he's tackling Stan, who's now also mixing dancing into the fight, its very choreographed, looks good? But also they're fighing, Ford yells something, Stan sings back, the lights of the portal flash on, everything timed with the music, and then-!

Stan gets branded, right as the music cuts out. (Final push! on Fords end :)).

Could go two ways.

Angst, the music slowly picks back up, darker and angry, Stan punches Ford, shoves the journal into his arms and over the line (final push! Stans end :)), canon happens, but now Gravity Falls in a musical right up until Ford gets back, now protected from the reality bending by his metal plate (Fiddleford is also protected by his scattered mind, he just joins in anyway).

At this point Ford was convinced the singing was a halucination, that it didn't really happen that way, but the moment he's back in the basement, and punches Stan he twitches as the music starts, and then its (Final Push, Reprise) as they argue, which fades into another song as Stan sings about their childhood (Shattered Dreams). Ford is still not singing, still confused.

Especially because everyone else is singing. Dipper is singing out questions, Mabel's excitingly trying to fill the gaps, Soos is beatboxing and adding sound effects, and Fords standing there, talking like people talk? In this dimension? Is this the wrong one?

No, every test shows the same thing, this is his dimension. Its just. more musically. Then he remembered.

????

More musicals happening around Ford, he cannot get away from it, and no one says anything and seem confused when he asks about it. Except when he asks Stan, Stan brushes him off gruffly.

Then, weirdmaggedon. And Stan sacrifices himself (Final Push, Reprise), and they find Stan, sitting there in the grass.

Music plays, and Stan looks around and asks where it's coming from? Then singing (Brand New World) in confusion, before shrugging and going with it. Thats when Ford realizes Stan could always hear the music, was the only one aware of how weird it was, but was stonewalling Ford because why should Stan have to explain his life to someone who doesn't care about who Stan is as a person.

Memory gets restored, Ford finally asks, gets explained that Stan's cursed, has been cursed for years, and its just a thing that happens now. Reconciliation in (Final Push, Reprise) Ford letting himself awkwardly sing with Stan.

Less angsty version is the music cuts out, Stan slumps over, exhasted from singing and dancing on an empty stomach, and Fords left standing there, still confused? Was-was this real? what?

Then no portal au Ford taking care of branded Stan while tying Stan to the couch because he keeps getting compelled to dance and sing about his feelings, and it is not helping the healing. Neither is all the lullabies Stan keeps singing at him, please stop.

[thegoldencontracts]

Culture Shock

—ꨄ︎ “Courting ritual? What are you talking about?”

Characters: Leona, Ruggie, Floyd, Azul

Notes: courting ritual misunderstanding brainrotttt drabbles LESGOO i live for the idea of the non-human students doing what they think is obvious flirting but you blatantly misunderstanding them lmao

Leona:

—Lions show courtship by following around their intended mate, biting, and pawing. Male lions will roar to make clear their intent. Lion courtship is fairly extended

He roared, pawing at your neck. You’ve noticed this pattern in behavior for a while now. He’s been following you around, asking if you’ll be talking to anyone else any time soon.

“Good,” he’d replied when you gave him a resounding ‘no’. “I’ll have you all to myself then.

What did he want? With no verbal answers from him you’d only been left with baseless speculation.

He bit your arm. He- he bit your arm.

And he seemed proud.

“Huh?”

Rather than apologize, or declare his intentions, or whatever, Leona stuck out his own arm, staring at your with darkened, narrowed eyes.

“I think it’s time we finally stopped playin’ around,” he said, leaning his face towards your own. “Seal the deal. Say what we’re both thinking.”

You blinked at him, owlish and trying quite desperately to figure out his intentions.

“…What are we both thinking, Leona-san?”

And suddenly, the coy sort of demeanor vanished, replaced by a mixture of surprise and irritation.

After a while, he spoke up.

“You seriously didn’t know this entire time?” He grumbled. What was he talking about.

“That’s why I’m asking,” you replied. “Please explain.”

But instead of explaining, he just huffed, pouting ever so slightly as he tossed your phone onto the bed.

“Tch. Figure it out yourself,” he said.

You just stood there, absolutely dumbfounded.

What the fuck.

Ruggie:

—Male hyenas are known to repeatedly step towards and step away from their intended mate. They then present their side to be smelled. They may also cross their legs.

“I can’t believe I of all people have to tell you to take a break!” He said, pouting. But he didn’t seem too bothered, content to lounge around in your room.

Ruggie stepped towards you, arm extended.

And then he stepped forward again.

And then, again, he stepped back.

And forward again.

“What are you doing?”

“Forward, Kantokusei-Kun,” he huffed, grabbing your arm.

And then he stepped back onto the bed, crossing his legs as he sat.

“Don’t leave me hangin’ now! Join me,” he said, voice slightly breathy.

…Was this his way of getting you to rest! How considerate! Ruggie really was nicer than he let on.

You sat, and then he-

Stuck out his arm.

“Well?” He said, looking at you expectantly. “Are you gonna do it, or—?”

…

“What are you talking about?”

”What.” All of a sudden, Ruggie was beet red, half angry, half embarrassed. “You never told me you weren’t interested- don’t-“

And then he stood up, plastering a smile on his face.

“Sorry, but I got a bunch of errands to run and- ohlookit’sLeona-sanbye!”

“Wait-“

He bolted out of your room, leaving you far more confused than before.

Floyd:

—Morays often open their mouths wide to signal intent to court. They also partake in a sort of mating dance, wrapping their bodies around one another.

Floyd yawned. Again. He must’ve been getting awfully bored now, huh?

“Sorry, Floyd,” you said. “I know you don’t like hearing me talk, but-“

He yawned again, mouth opened wide to reveal both his sets of jaws.

“What gave you that idea, Koebi-Chan?” He said, giggling. “I love hearin’ you talk! Your ideas are way more interesting than anything all those stupid guppies have to offer.”

But once again, he yawned. Actions spoke louder than words, you concluded.

Seeing you look at him with uncertainty, he grinned.

“I really am serious about this, y’know,” he said. “You’ll stay interestin’ for a long time.”

And suddenly-

“Dance with me, Koebi-Chan.”

He circled around you, grabbing your arms and gracefully moving around you as if he were trying to wrap himself around your body. When you failed to react, he paused, staring at you.

“Well?” He asked.

You just sighed. He must’ve been trying really hard to stop you from rambling.

“If you’re bored, you can just say so.”

Immediately, Floyd recoiled, like he’d been doused in a bucket of water. Or maybe oil. He’d probably like being covered in water since he was a moray, after all.

“What kinda go-good small fry do you take me for?” He huffed, looking downright offended. “This is laaame. I’m leaving.”

And without an explanation, he stormed out, leaving you staring blankly from within the confines of your room, absolutely dumbfounded.

Azul:

—Octopodes often cause appearance and body language to display intent to court, changing color, showing vibrant patterns, and standing tall with their suckers extended. Males will often latch on from behind.

“You have my attention now. You’d best not waste it,” Azul murmured lowly, showing you-

His arm. It was purple. Why was it purple.

“Is- Is something wrong?” You asked. Azul stood tall, leaning in towards you. You were worried for his health by now. His arms kept changing color, and you were wondering if he was being repeatedly beat up or something.

“You know exactly what’s wrong,” he said. “I intended to wait for you to approach, but you’ve been wearing my patience terribly thin.”

What. Was he talking about. Did he want you to offer to take him to the doctor, or—?

“You’ve done your research, I’m certain,” he said. His arm turned another shade, this time a bright blue.

Suddenly, his arm wrapped around your back.

“Tell me how you feel, Kantokusei-San.”

You just stared.

“Do you want me to take you to the doctor’s office, oooor—“

“No need.” For a brief second, Azul looked disappointed, before he covered it up with a smile. “I apologize for acting so foolishly. Goodness, I don’t know what’s gotten into me!”

“What were you-“

“I’ll be going now. Please, think nothing of my sudden behavior! I’ve just been feeling a little under the weather, you see. What I did says nothing about my feelings, I assure you.”

And with that, he was gone.

…

Okay, but seriously, what was up with his arm?

[jungwnies]

f1 grid | you cant just kiss me

୨ৎ : featuring : all drivers on the grid ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by anon) : the trend where you kiss your partner in the middle of a heated argument just to see what happens

୨ৎ : genre : romantic comedy ୨ৎ : tws : slight angst? ୨ৎ : word count : 616

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ 10k event | masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : im so locked in omg... (ive been so tired lately lmfao i wanna sleep writing this...)

ʚ・red bull

max verstappen

he's mid-rant, hands flying, accent thick. "you don't listen sometimes, you just—"

you grab his face and kiss him. hard.

he freezes. literally forgets what planet he’s on.

blinks a few times, then mutters, "that’s not fair."

forgets the argument entirely. starts dragging you toward the couch.

yuki tsunoda

arms crossed, ranting about how you left dishes in the sink.

you're like "mhm," then suddenly lean in.

yells a muffled "ehh?!" against your lips.

pulls back with wide eyes and red cheeks. "what was that for?"

giggling now. argument forgotten. yuki is shy mode activated.

ʚ・mercedes

george russell

pacing like a whole dad. "i just think it was inconsiderate."

you stop him with a kiss that makes him stumble.

stunned silence. then he smiles, shaking his head.

"you can’t keep weaponizing your lips."

forgives you instantly. no notes.

kimi antonelli

baby boy is flustered already just from the argument.

you kiss him mid-sentence.

he stops. blushes. looks at the floor.

"you can’t do that... i was mad."

except now he’s smiling like a dork and pulling you closer.

ʚ・ferrari

charles leclerc

full hands-in-hair frustration. "you never tell me these things!"

you kiss him suddenly.

freezes. then kisses back like it’s life or death.

pulls away slightly, forehead resting on yours. "don’t do that when i’m upset. i’ll forgive you too fast."

lewis hamilton

calmly explaining his side like a grown adult.

you interrupt with a kiss that knocks the calm out of him.

blinks. "okay. what was that?"

starts laughing. "i can’t argue with you when you do that."

ʚ・mclaren

lando norris

sarcastic. hands waving. being dramatic.

you kiss him mid-rant.

goes: "wait... wait what?"

absolutely loses track of the fight. probably forgets his own name.

grins, "do it again. i dare you."

oscar piastri

logical argument mode. stating facts.

you pull him in and kiss him.

very confused. "i… what were we talking about again?"

gives up. you're now cuddling. fight over.

ʚ・aston martin

fernando alonso

intense. staring you down. voice low.

you lean in and kiss him and his brain malfunctions.

pauses. then smirks. "clever little trick."

pulls you in again. "we’re still talking after this, though."

lance stroll

softly upset. furrowed brows. a little pout.

you kiss him unexpectedly.

shocked. then all melty.

rests his head on your shoulder. "that wasn’t fair... but okay."

ʚ・williams

alex albon

rambling while trying not to smile because he knows he’s losing.

you kiss him.

chuckles. "you little cheat."

wraps his arms around you, completely abandoning the debate.

carlos sainz

passionate argumenter. lots of hand gestures.

you grab his shirt and kiss him.

pulls back like "what just happened?"

then grins. "you’re evil. beautiful, but evil."

ʚ・haas

ollie bearman

awkward and a little stiff when he's upset.

you kiss him in the middle of a sentence.

instantly blushes. stammers.

"i... okay. i forgot. what were we saying?"

too distracted now. cuddles ensue.

esteban ocon

talking in full paragraphs.

you just go for it.

stunned silence.

then he mumbles, "not a bad strategy..."

argument forgotten. he's now planning dinner.

ʚ・racing bulls

liam lawson

slightly sarcastic. mock-angry.

you kiss him.

instantly flustered. tries to recover.

"you can’t just... ugh fine. you're lucky you're cute."

kisses you back harder.

isack hadjar

super passionate when arguing.

mid-rant, you press your lips to his.

freezes. mutters something in french.

forgets why he was mad. kisses you again.

"you’re so annoying. and hot."

ʚ・alpine

pierre gasly

dramatic and expressive.

you kiss him.

fake-offended. "don’t think you can shut me up like that."

kisses you harder.

"okay maybe you can."

franco colapinto

slightly overwhelmed by the fight.

you kiss him.

all wide-eyed and breathless. "wow..."

hugs you like a teddy bear. won’t let go for 10 minutes.

ʚ・kick sauber

nico hulkenberg

stern. classic german dad vibes.

you kiss him mid-sentence.

pauses. sighs. "you know that doesn’t solve the issue."

but he's smiling. and holding your hand.

gabriel bortoleto

passionate and a little dramatic.

you catch him off guard with a kiss.

he breaks into a grin.

"okay okay, you win."

pulls you into a hug and forgets why he was mad.

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[chimerafeathers]

i really love how intensely Mirabelle reacts to act 5 Siffrin botched friendquest.

Isabeau is mostly operating out of concern and, eventually, hurt. he already knows something’s up before Siffrin gets to him. he knows something truly awful must be wrong for Siffrin to be lashing out like they are, and as soon as he can’t handle the situation anymore, he leaves and asks (with strained cheer) for time apart to cool off.

most of Bonnie’s anger comes from being upset and afraid that Siffrin would willingly put themself in danger for no reason, when that’s exactly why they’ve been so unsettled since the eye incident. they hate that Siffrin values their own life so little, they hate that they’re the cause of any pain or loss for him, and here he is, putting himself in that situation AGAIN. on purpose. it’s loud and explosive, but it’s familiar, too, being “hated” by Bonnie for this reason.

Odile pushes, and keeps pushing, until her concern overwhelms Siffrin and they strike where they know she’s most vulnerable. she gets physical, just for a moment, grabbing his collar before controlling herself and letting go. her fury shuts down into cold detachment, and she walks away.

but Mirabelle—dear, sweet, gentle, loving Mirabelle, “the most wonderful being on earth,” with her secret “ruthless side” that largely involves lightly badmouthing people behind their backs and then apologizing—slaps them. immediately.

and then COMPLETELY RENOUNCES THEIR FRIENDSHIP.

not just “we’re not friends anymore,” but “we were never friends in the first place.”

that’s!!! pretty extreme!!!!

of course, she ALSO starts by asking what’s wrong. something must have happened for him to act like this. but as soon as Siffrin brushes her off, she jumps past that line of questioning and dives headfirst into re-evaluating everything she thought she knew about them as a a person.

if he could say something like that to her and not see anything wrong with it, then she was wrong to treat him as a friend, wrong to read camaraderie into his teasing, wrong to think they must care about them all under their aloof demeanor.

that’s how Mirabelle phrases it—“I was wrong about you”—but i think that there’s a hidden layer of I was right about you, too.

she talks about the way they tease her like she had to convince herself that he was doing it in a friendly way. she says they talk like they “know better than her” like that’s a thought she’s had for a LONG time.

“Always soooo mysterious, Siffrin, always talking as if you're better than me! As if you know me!!! But you don't, Siffrin!!! You're just as lost and useless as I am!!! So stop!!! Talking!!! As if you know me!!!!!!”

none of this comes across as a new, sudden way to view Siffrin for her. it doesn’t shock or confuse her. it makes her angry, defensive, almost like she was waiting for something like this to happen at some point. the feeling of resentment, frustration, jealousy, being patronized and condescended to—this is something she’s been actively pushing down and rejecting this entire time, but they’ve given her ample reason for it all to boil to the surface. violently.

Mirabelle’s kindness is not inherent or easy. it’s a choice she’s making. she treats Siffrin warmly because she gives him the benefit of the doubt—refusing to act based on anxiety-fueled, cynical speculation, and reassuring herself that his actions are driven by care and friendship even if she can’t quite see it.

“I was wrong about you” doesn’t mean she always and without question believed them to be a fundamentally kind, caring person from the beginning—it’s that her first, colder instincts were right, and she was wrong to convince herself otherwise.

never mind that she asked what was wrong at first. she barely gives them time to speak in their own defense, to explain what they really meant by what they said. all of her suppressed doubts and frustrations are getting aired out now, now that all the trust she’d so deliberately placed in him has been betrayed. her pain feels bigger than this singular moment, so when she hurts him back, she makes sure it extends back through the entirety of their relationship for him, too.

“You're awful. You're not my friend, not my ally, not anything. You never were.”

like the others, she goes back to the clocktower and tells Siffrin not to come back until later. but there’s a finality to the way she ends this confrontation that isn’t quite there with the others. Isabeau and Odile reach their breaking point and remove themselves from the situation, asking for space to cool off but still somewhat leaving the door open for Siffrin to tell them what’s really going on at some point. Mirabelle is the only one who tries to fully cut ties—after everything else she says, her “I don’t want to see you until tonight” reads to me somewhat as “I don’t want to see you anymore unless I have to.”

I can’t wait to never see you again.

even back at the clocktower, Mirabelle doesn’t really defend Siffrin’s place in the party when Odile suggests leaving them behind out of concern for their trustworthiness on the most important day of the journey. Isabeau and Bonnie protest out of sentimentality and faith in Siffrin’s abilities and connection to them, and Mirabelle agrees, but…

“I agree, but... B-But would he even agree to come with us, still? Maybe they won't even come back tonight...”

she doesn’t say much outside of that. maybe the stutter and hesitation here are signs of regret about how things happened, but she lacks Isabeau and Bonnie’s confidence that Siffrin even wants to come back to them in the first place. she doesn’t trust that their bond was real anymore. maybe it never was in the first place, or maybe she broke whatever was there herself.

and she’s still mad when they finally catch up to Siffrin at the King! and she makes sure Siffrin knows that—after saving them, assuring him that he no longer needs to fight, that they’re all there for him. she still cares, of course she still cares—she’s still hurt, too, but they can figure that part out once there’s less world-ending stuff going on.

she’s the first to say that they all reserve the right to still be angry at Siffrin later—and that they’ve already forgiven him.

she’s also the first to say we want to stay with you, too. it’s not just you.

she was wrong! she thought they didn’t care but they care so much, it’s overwhelming, it’s world-ending.

i think she’s gonna be wallowing in guilt post-canon the moment she remembers what she said and did TO SIFFRIN and not just what Siffrin said to her. especially now that she knows Siffrin’s exact hangups, and especially especially if she figures out what Siffrin was trying to say.

they put themself through hell out of loneliness and fear that none of the others cared about him the way he cared about them, he was going insane from repetition and exhaustion and hunger and trying to keep them all safe and together, and all they did in the midst of all that was say something kind of mean to her one time (that turned out to not even be MEANT to be mean it was supposed to be HELPFUL they just SAID IT ALL WRONG) and she SLAPPED THEM? and told him that they WEREN’T FRIENDS AT ALL??? how could she!!! she should have known better!! what they said hurt a lot but still!!!

so when they eventually manage to try to talk about it, they end up almost in, like, a guilt competition.

Mirabelle apologizing for how she reacted, that she shouldn’t have yelled or hit him, that she doesn’t want to be the kind of person who acts that way out of anger and she’s sorry that she made Siffrin expect that reaction from her, she should have known better and believed in him more and they only messed up like that because they were losing their mind in a time loop but what’s HER excuse—

and Siffrin going nononono stop I deserved it—(HUH DON’T SAY THAT NO YOU DIDN’T)—and that he should never have said such awful things to her, ever, and she was under so much pressure already with the weight of the country and everyone’s lives and futures and her religion and their whole party counting on her to do this impossible task because she’s the only one who can, all this unbearable expectation and hope crushing her, and they KNEW that but they thought they could skip to the ending as though her feelings didn’t matter at all, like helping her wasn’t as important as saving a little time—

until they’re just. in tears together, apologizing for all the horrible things they did in between complimenting each other’s strength and kindness and resilience and how much they admire each other and saying that no, everything you did was completely understandable, actually, the only one who sucks here is me. which neither of them will accept coming from the other!!

they’re so similar, in ways they couldn’t really understand, before.

warm, affectionate, perfect Mirabelle, the resolute hero, a beacon of compassion and hope for all those around her, who wears her heart on her sleeve, her fear making her courage shine all the brighter—nothing like the insignificant, forgettable Siffrin, too terrified to be known, too fragile to touch, too selfish and disgusting to bear letting go.

cool, mysterious, unflappable Siffrin, the worldly traveler, as charming and silly as they are confident and skilled, who brushed off losing an eye like it was nothing, accepting the risks of this journey with barely more than a shrug—nothing like the anxious, stagnant, undeserving Mirabelle, a fraud and a nobody crumbling under the weight of a mission too important to be entrusted to someone like her, doubting herself, doubting her friends, doubting her mentor, doubting her faith, too weak and brittle to bend and change the way the world needs her to without breaking.

not worth bothering others with their problems. they should be able to handle this alone. stay positive, stay calm. breathe in, and out.

they’ll struggle with it, still—the hiding, the minimizing—but now, they understand each other a little better. they can hold each other accountable for what they leave unsaid.

it’ll get easier, eventually. they have plenty of time.

[heeluvv]

˗ˏˋ05. MY EYES ONLY

pairingᝰ.ᐟ park sunghoon x reader

warningsᝰ.ᐟ public sex, unprotected sex, fingering, etc.

natty's notesᝰ.ᐟ mdni, hate comments will be deleted. (not proofread)

statusᝰ.ᐟ 5/9 completed!

the room was dim, swallowed in the soft hum of electronics and the faint ticking of the wall clock, the only source of light spilling from sunghoon’s laptop screen. the blue glow stretched across his face, casting sharp shadows beneath his cheekbones and deepening the tired circles under his eyes, but he didn’t seem to notice—or care. his back was hunched slightly, elbows braced on his knees, jaw clenched as his eyes tracked every detail on the screen like he was hunting something. across from him, sunoo sat cross-legged on the couch, a half-finished drink sweating beside him, his phone forgotten in his lap as he stared curiously at the concentrated look on sunghoon’s face. the way he scrolled—slow, deliberate, almost too precise—sent a quiet tension crawling across the room, unspoken but growing heavier by the second. “what’s up with you?” sunoo asked finally, brow lifting as he tried to break whatever trance had settled over him. but sunghoon didn’t blink, didn’t glance up, didn’t even shift. “i have to find who the fuck these idiots are fighting about,” he muttered, voice flat and clipped like he was reciting something he'd already said in his head a hundred times.

sunoo blinked, thrown off by the answer. “who?” he asked, the single word dragging out slightly in confusion as he leaned forward a little. sunghoon inhaled through his nose but never took his eyes off the screen, his fingers clicking and scrolling with rhythmic precision. “jay and heeseung,” he said, quieter this time, like it was a secret he shouldn’t be repeating. “i stopped by a few nights ago… and they dropped the biggest shit ever.” he paused, jaw flexing again. “they’ve both worked with the same girl. collabed with her. and now they’re catching feelings—acting like they’re not, but they are.” the words came out heavier now, more bitter, more laced with something he hadn’t processed yet. “when i asked who it was, they shut down. wouldn’t even give me her username. like they didn’t want anyone else finding her.” he finally leaned back a little, eyes narrowed at the faint trail of usernames and blurred thumbnails in front of him. “so now i’m finding her myself.”

sunoo sat up straighter, his interest finally piqued, a quiet hum leaving his lips as he leaned over to peek at the screen. “you think they’re in love or something?” he asked, half-joking, trying to cut the tension—but sunghoon didn’t laugh. he didn’t even smile. “i think they’re obsessed,” he said instead, cold and steady, his thumb tapping at the trackpad with slow pressure. another scroll. another refresh. then suddenly, the screen shifted, and a thumbnail caught his eye. a soft frame. blurred background. skin in low light.

@babydollxo.

he clicked it before sunoo could even process what he was doing, and the profile loaded with a stuttering hum. there wasn’t much to it—no profile picture, no bio, just two videos stacked neatly under the username. the first one had thousands of views. the second had just been posted within the last hour. “that’s her,” sunghoon said, almost to himself, almost reverent, his voice lowering like he was speaking in church. sunoo tilted his head, brow furrowing as he studied the screen. “how do you know?” he asked—but he didn’t need an answer. because just then, a soft pink glow rippled across the edge of the screen. a gift notification. and another. and another. they rolled in silently, one after the next, usernames sunghoon knew by heart: @heefreakshow. @jayafterhours. and then—surprisingly—@jakeoncam.

sunghoon stared, unmoving, unreadable. not surprised, not shocked, not even angry—just silent. like something deep inside him had clicked into place. like something that had been itching under his skin had finally found a name. sunoo shifted again, lips parting, but the tension was too thick now. it sat heavy in the middle of the room, settling in the hollow between their breaths. “damn…” sunoo whispered, almost out of awe. “she must be something else.” and still, sunghoon said nothing.

and then the page refreshed.

you’d posted another one.

the refresh hit soft—just a faint shift in the page’s layout, the timestamp on your profile jumping forward by a single digit. sunoo blinked first, sitting up straighter as the new thumbnail loaded slowly, a hazy image pulled from a dim-lit angle that showed more of your legs this time. the camera was closer now. more intentional. angled from the foot of the bed, a little lower, aimed just high enough to catch the way your thighs spread, the edge of your fingers pressing into your waistband. sunghoon didn’t speak. didn’t ask if they should watch. he just clicked. the screen flickered once, then dipped into darkness, and your voice bled through the speakers again—quieter than before, softer, more intimate, like you were whispering to someone just out of frame. “missed you,” you said, breathy and wrecked. “wanted to be good tonight.”

sunoo exhaled sharply, but didn’t say anything, and sunghoon’s jaw flexed as he leaned in even closer, pupils blown wide and locked on the way you tugged your panties down your thighs with slow, teasing fingers. the fabric slipped inch by inch, delicate and soft, pooling at your knees as your bare heat pressed to the sheets beneath you, your hips rolling faintly like you couldn’t help it. you were on your back now, the curve of your stomach rising and falling with each breath, your fingers drifting up between your thighs with a kind of practiced slowness that didn’t feel fake—it felt familiar. like someone had already told you how they liked it. like this wasn’t for everyone. the way you moved was purposeful. trained. like you were doing it for someone specific. and that’s when sunghoon’s throat went tight. because he knew it—he fucking knew it. this video wasn’t meant for just them this time.

it was meant for someone new.

your fingers moved slow at first, two of them dragging up through your folds before circling your clit in soft, measured patterns, hips twitching like you were already close. the lighting cast shadows across your skin in gold and pink, and even though your face still wasn’t in the shot, your mouth was—barely in frame, parted with every breath, lips glossy and full as you whimpered something too soft to catch. “do you think about me?” you asked the dark, and sunghoon swallowed hard, tongue pressing to the roof of his mouth. “i think about you… all the time.” sunoo didn’t even move now—frozen beside him, mouth slightly open, locked in the same quiet daze. sunghoon was burning. his chest was tight, his hands tense in his lap, his legs spread wide for balance like he was trying not to fall forward and crawl into the screen. he wanted to know—wanted to know who the fuck you were talking to. wanted to know if it was them.

your moans got higher, shorter, your hand working faster now, legs flexing as your hips rolled against your palm. the camera didn’t shake. the audio didn’t glitch. it was clean, steady, deliberate—every second meant to be watched, replayed, consumed. sunghoon didn’t blink. not once. the jealousy that sat low in his stomach during the first video had cracked wide open now, bleeding into something hotter, meaner, more possessive. they’d seen this before. maybe not this exact video, but they’d seen you like this. they’d had this. heeseung. jay. jake. he thought about their usernames flashing across your gift notifications, about their silence when he asked who you were, about the way they kept your name like a fucking secret.

but now he had you in his hands.

and he wasn’t giving it back.

the video ended in silence, the last frame freezing on the slow rise of your stomach and the soft part of your lips, skin glowing in that muted, bedroom gold. the room felt smaller now, darker, as if the air had thickened with the weight of what they’d just seen. sunoo leaned back slowly, blinking like he’d come out of something heavier than he expected, shoulders sagging with a deep exhale. “well… shit,” he muttered, voice light, but not casual. “i get it now. i mean—i really get it.” his head tilted toward sunghoon, eyes wide with something between awe and disbelief. “not surprised they’re obsessed. honestly, i’d want more too.” sunghoon didn’t respond—not right away. he just sat there, still leaned forward, watching the blank video like it might start on its own again, like it might show him something he missed the first time.

then, after a few long seconds, he finally leaned back, lips curling into a quiet, unreadable smirk as he shut the laptop screen with a soft click. “lock the door when you leave,” he said, voice low and even, already rising to his feet with the laptop tucked under one arm. sunoo raised his brows slightly, caught somewhere between amused and curious, but didn’t argue. sunghoon didn’t wait for a response—he was already halfway down the hall, the soft pad of his footsteps disappearing into the darker part of the apartment. when he reached his room, he closed the door behind him, not slamming it, but with enough finality to feel like a barrier being drawn. and then, slowly, he sat down again. opened the laptop. let the glow wash over his face all over again. your profile filled the screen—only two videos, no bio, no face—and still, it was more than enough. he clicked play.

and this time, he didn’t have to share you with anyone.

sunghoon sat in the center of his bed, back resting against the headboard, legs parted loosely as the soft click of the laptop echoed once in the stillness of his room. the screen flickered back to life, and there you were again—frame perfectly centered, thighs spread, voice barely above a whisper as you circled your fingers against your clit like you were inviting someone to watch you fall apart. he just watched, slowly sinking into the pull of it, his breath growing heavier with every second that passed. his hand slid down to his waistband, not frantic, not greedy—just needing to match the pace of what you were giving him. he palmed himself through the fabric, eyes trained on your trembling legs and the way your back arched with every soft moan you let out. his thumb dragged over the head of his cock, slow, steady, the friction just enough to make him twitch.

his jaw tightened as the video went on, your pace quickening, your free hand gripping the sheets beside you as your breath hitched and your thighs began to shake. you were close—he could see it in the way your hips rolled deeper into your palm and your chest lifted with each ragged gasp. sunghoon stroked himself now, slow and firm, matching your rhythm like it was instinct, his hand slick with precum as he let out a soft curse under his breath. “fuck…” he muttered, eyes never leaving the screen, body tensing as he imagined your mouth wrapped around his name instead. it twisted something low in him—the thought that you had done this before for them, that you had said their names when you came, moaned for them while they watched like kings behind their screens. heeseung. jay. jake. they’d already touched this—already had the pieces of you he was only now learning how to crave. and still… he couldn’t stop. wouldn’t. not until he made sure you belonged to him too.

his strokes grew faster as you cried out softly, fingers fluttering over your clit in the way he knew you had done a hundred times before when no one else was watching. but now he was. and he swore he could feel the tension in your voice when you moaned—like you needed someone to answer it, to fill it. sunghoon’s lips parted, a quiet groan slipping from his throat as he imagined his hands replacing yours, imagined pinning your wrists down while your hips bucked against his, slick and needy and desperate to be claimed. his hips jerked forward into his own fist as you whimpered again, this time louder, and he felt the heat building in his core like a fuse burning down, slow but inevitable. his free hand gripped the bedsheet tight as his back arched slightly, tension coiling through his spine. white streaks painted across his stomach, his hand slowing as he rode it out, and the video ended just as he collapsed back into the pillows.

but he didn’t close the tab.

he just let it replay again.

―

you wake up with the kind of silence that feels still and heavy, like the morning hasn’t quite begun yet—soft light pressing at the edges of your curtains, your blanket twisted loosely around your legs, your throat dry and warm. your phone buzzes once on your nightstand, but you don’t reach for it yet. your limbs are still too heavy with sleep, your body sinking deeper into the mattress as your mind starts to catch up with where you left off. the video. the upload. the way your hands moved over your skin under low light, the camera angle just right, just personal enough to feel like you were whispering into someone’s ear. you didn’t name anyone. you never do. but you knew what you wanted it to feel like—close, unfiltered, like whoever was watching had slipped into your room and caught you in the act of missing them. eventually, you roll onto your side, blanket slipping down your bare hip as you reach for your phone and blink the brightness away. your lock screen is full—messages, follows, gifts—but you ignore most of it. just scroll.

until one username catches your eye.

@hoononrepeat

you hesitate before tapping it, your thumb hovering over the alert, not because you recognize it—but because it’s clean. plain. no emojis, no flirty tag, just a smooth, simple handle and a single notification waiting for you. it’s not a tip. not a comment. it’s a private message. and for some reason, your chest tightens just slightly when you open it. the text is short—two lines, spaced perfectly, no punctuation.

hoononrepeat: you looked so soft like that. i can’t stop watching.

that’s it. no hello, and somehow, it lingers longer than any paragraph you’ve ever been sent. you read it again. and again. and your hand goes still against your chest as you stare at the screen, wondering why this one feels like it was meant for you—not just for your content.

you hesitate before tapping it, your thumb hovering over the alert, not because you recognize it—but because it’s clean. plain. no emojis, no flirty tag, just a smooth, simple handle and a single notification waiting for you. it’s not a tip. not a comment. it’s a private message. and for some reason, your chest tightens just slightly when you open it. the text is short—two lines, spaced perfectly, no punctuation.

is that all you wanted to say?

his reply comes immediately.

hoononrepaet: nohoononrepeat: i want to see you, want to see what more you've got to show.

―

you don’t even bother with a jacket. the air’s still warm and your heart’s already racing, too hot in your chest as you lock your door behind you and start toward the street. you spot him immediately, leaning against the driver’s side door, one foot braced against the pavement like he’s been there for a while, arms folded across his chest as his gaze lifts to meet yours. the moment your eyes connect, his posture shifts—subtle, but there’s something unmistakable in it, like he hadn’t fully believed you’d come out until now. his stare doesn’t drop, doesn’t flicker, doesn’t do any of the things guys usually do when you walk up in person—and it makes the air around you thicken, your nerves prickle with something a little too heavy to be just shyness. “hi,” you say, a little breathless, and it feels stupid immediately because why are you nervous? but he doesn’t laugh, doesn’t even smile big—he just opens the passenger door for you, eyes still locked on your face like he’s memorizing it one blink at a time. “you’re even prettier in person,” he says under his breath, quiet enough that it feels meant for no one but you. you duck your head slightly as you slide into the passenger seat, the scent of leather and something faintly woodsy wrapping around you while he walks around the front and climbs into the driver’s seat like he didn’t just drop a confession between your feet.

he doesn’t start the car right away. for a moment, he just sits there, his hand resting on the gearshift and his eyes roaming your features like they’re trying to trace every shadow and light across your skin. you shift a little in your seat, suddenly hyperaware of how dressed down you are—just jeans, a hoodie, your hair barely styled, and no camera between the two of you this time to hide behind. “i brought stuff,” you say, voice quieter, fingers fidgeting slightly with the zipper of your hoodie. “for the shoot, like outfits and stuff… if you wanted me to change.” but he shakes his head slowly, gaze heavy and unmoving. “no,” he says, lips tilting just barely. “you look perfect like this. soft. real.” the words hit different—warm and strange and intimate in a way you hadn’t expected—and suddenly you’re not sure if you’re here for a video anymore, or something else entirely.

he finally turns the key, the engine humming to life beneath you, low and smooth like everything about him so far. the lights from the dash flicker against his skin, catching the shape of his jaw, the cut of his cheekbone, and you realize he hasn’t looked away once. he pulls off from the curb with a practiced ease, one hand on the wheel, the other resting between the console, fingers tapping out some rhythm only he seems to know. “i know where we should go,” he says after a few moments, his voice low and calm, like you’ve done this before. “somewhere quiet. somewhere just for us.” you nod, swallowing down the lump in your throat, and your eyes stay on the road ahead as he drives you deeper into the kind of night you don’t come back from untouched.

you don’t realize how far you’ve gone until the sound of the city fades behind you, traded for the quiet hum of the tires against worn pavement and the rhythmic crash of distant waves. the roads grow darker the closer you get to the water, the tall brush lining the narrow path catching the headlights and glowing gold for a second before disappearing behind you. neither of you speak much. not because there’s nothing to say, but because everything already feels thick with meaning—like if you speak now, it’ll all spill out too soon. he drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh, fingers drumming against the fabric in a slow, measured beat that somehow keeps time with your heartbeat. occasionally, he glances over at you—quietly, not intrusively, but like he can’t help it—and every time, he looks away with that same small smile that never quite reaches his eyes. you sit curled in the passenger seat, your fingers tracing the hem of your jacket as your eyes dart to the faint outline of the ocean just past the treeline, the sound of it getting louder now. finally, he slows the car, turning down a dirt path, and you realize where you are.

“we’re here,” he says softly, and you nod like you’ve just woken from a trance.

the car rolls to a stop, the tires crunching against gravel, and for a moment, neither of you move. the engine shuts off, leaving only the steady pulse of the ocean and the soft creak of your seatbelt as you unbuckle it. he reaches behind the seat first, pulling out a small tripod and a bag you hadn’t noticed before, slinging it over his shoulder as he steps out of the car. the air hits you first—cool, sharp, salt-soaked—and you wrap your jacket tighter around your frame as you follow him down the barely lit path, the sound of waves pulling louder and louder with each step. the moonlight spills silver across the sand once the trail clears, the entire stretch of beach empty, undisturbed except for the tide. he walks slowly, not too far ahead of you, occasionally looking back to make sure you’re still behind him, and something about the way he waits for you, quietly, makes your chest ache. there’s something intimate in how unhurried he is, how his steps match yours once you reach the soft sand. when he stops, it’s in a small, nestled alcove, half-shadowed by a dune wall, protected just enough to make it feel like the world has shrunk down to just the two of you. he lays down the bag carefully, crouching to pull out a blanket and an extra battery pack, then adjusts the tripod and tests the angle, his fingers working with silent ease.

you stand there for a moment, watching him, heart pounding for reasons you haven’t sorted through yet.

"this is definitely going to be a first for me…” you murmur, your voice soft and slightly shaky as your arms wrap loosely around yourself, your eyes drifting toward the dark stretch of waves behind him. “i’ve never done anything public.” the words feel heavier once they leave your mouth, hanging between you and the ocean air, caught somewhere between nervous excitement and the unknown. he looks up from where he’s crouched in the sand, his fingers twisting something on the base of the tripod, and for a second, the moonlight catches his expression—soft, calm, but unmistakably intrigued. “i’m glad to be the first, then,” he says, his voice low with a subtle edge of teasing confidence, a sly smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he rises slowly to his full height. his body is close now—too close, the heat of him bleeding into your space as his figure looms above yours, the sharp difference in your heights making you tilt your chin up just to keep his gaze. his eyes don’t wander, not yet; they stay fixed on you with a sort of quiet intensity, like he’s already begun memorizing your features under moonlight. “are you ready to go for it?” he asks, his voice dipping just slightly lower, and the way his tongue darts across his lower lip leaves a shimmer behind that catches the light. your stomach flips as his eyes linger on your face, not impatient, not forceful—just waiting, just watching, like whatever happens next is yours to decide.

you nod slowly, breath caught somewhere between nerves and anticipation, and he catches your hand with such care it almost makes your chest ache—his fingers curling gently around yours like you’re something precious, something fragile, and he guides you down to the blanket he’s laid out across the sand. the moment you sit, you feel the coolness of the fabric beneath your legs, the way the grains of sand shift underneath, grounding you as the breeze tugs lightly at your clothes and the sound of the ocean murmurs just behind you, low and steady. he lowers himself with you, crouching at your feet with a kind of focus that steals the air from your lungs, his hands trailing deliberately along the shape of your calves, then your ankles, then the delicate curve of your heels as he slips your shoes off and sets them to the side like they might interrupt what’s about to happen. his touch lingers longer than necessary, like he doesn’t want to let go just yet, and when his eyes lift again, they don’t just look at you—they study you, flicking between your mouth and your eyes as if he’s already imagining what they’ll look like when you fall apart under him. your hair moves slightly in the wind, a few strands sweeping across your cheek, and he reaches up without thinking, brushing them away with his knuckles before sitting back for a single second—just enough time to press the record button on the camera, the soft mechanical click echoing beneath the hush of the waves. he comes right back to you after that, like he couldn’t bear the space for long, his hand rising to cradle your jaw as he leans in, the warmth of him close enough to make you dizzy before he’s even touched your mouth. and then he kisses you—slowly, deeply, with so much deliberate tenderness that your toes curl into the blanket, his lips soft and searching as he tilts his head just slightly to fit you better, like he’s done this before in a dream. his hand moves to the back of your neck as the kiss deepens, his body shifting closer until his knees brush yours and his breath is all you can taste, all you can feel, all you can want.

his hand slips from the nape of your neck down to your waist, warm and steady as it curves along your side, pulling you gently toward him until your chest presses to his and the kiss shifts—deeper now, hungrier, like he’s been waiting far too long to taste you. the blanket crinkles beneath your knees as he guides you lower, your bodies sinking into the soft give of the sand, your thighs brushing his as he shifts to straddle you, but never once breaking the kiss. you let out a soft breath against his mouth when his hands begin to roam again—one trailing up your back beneath your hoodie, the other brushing the exposed strip of skin above your waistband, like he’s mapping out every part of you he’s about to memorize. the ocean crashes in the distance, closer now, the waves folding over each other in slow, thundering rhythm that somehow mirrors the pace of his hands and the rising flutter in your chest. his lips finally leave yours only to trail down your jaw, then your neck, kissing a path across your pulse like he can feel it jumping under his mouth, like he wants to taste just how nervous and ready you are. you tilt your head to give him more room, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt at his back, anchoring yourself to something solid as his mouth moves lower, warm and open and reverent. his hand dips beneath the hem of your hoodie, pushing it slowly upward until the cool night air licks at your skin, goosebumps rising under his touch as he pulls it over your head with careful fingers. his eyes flicker back up to yours then, and he pauses—not because he’s unsure, but because he’s looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, his chest rising and falling as he whispers, “fuck… you’re even better in person.”

his fingers curl gently at the hem of your jeans, eyes flickering up to your face before he moves, as if waiting for one final breath of confirmation before he takes what’s already his. you nod faintly, lips parted and chest rising with uneven breaths, and that’s all he needs — his touch dips lower, thumbs pressing lightly into the creases of your hips as he begins to peel the fabric down, inch by inch, dragging it over the swell of your ass with reverence. the night air rushes to greet your newly exposed skin, cool and soft, brushing over your thighs like a phantom touch that makes you shiver, and you swear you feel the sand shift beneath you from the strength of your heartbeat alone. he kneels lower as he pulls them past your knees, his knuckles grazing the inside of your calves with a feather-light touch that makes your toes curl, his eyes never leaving yours as he carefully discards the jeans beside the blanket. he stays there for a second, crouched between your legs with the surf murmuring behind him, and even in the dim glow of moonlight, you can see how tightly his jaw is set, his breath visible when it leaves his lips in soft puffs. his hands trail back up slowly, his palms warm and sure, sliding along your bare thighs like he’s mapping them for the first time, and he exhales a quiet, reverent “fuck” when his thumbs ghost the edge of your underwear. “you’re really letting me see you like this…” he murmurs, almost to himself, and there’s something in his voice—hunger, wonder, something deeper—that makes your heart thud even harder in your chest.

he doesn’t touch you at first. not yet. his hands fall to the hem of his own shirt, his fingers curling into the fabric as his eyes stay locked on yours, like he’s waiting to see if you’ll look away first—but you don’t. you watch him, frozen in place on the blanket, the sound of the waves folding over each other behind you like the earth is holding its breath for what’s coming. the shirt lifts slowly, exposing the soft ridges of his stomach first, pale skin dappled with faint moonlight, the muscles flexing faintly as he pulls the cotton up his chest. he’s not performing, not trying to make it seductive—it just is, naturally, inherently, like the act of undressing in front of you is something sacred and instinctive at the same time. his arms stretch as he tugs it over his head, messing his hair slightly in the process, the tousled strands falling over his forehead once the fabric is tossed aside, forgotten in the sand. he doesn’t speak, doesn’t rush—he just reaches down to the button of his jeans, the sharp pop of it parting sounding louder than it should in the stillness of night. you can feel it in your body before you even understand it—the tightening in your chest, the ache blooming between your thighs, the flicker of anticipation rising like a slow burn. and then he’s lowering the zipper, the metal teeth dragging open with quiet friction, and you swear you could count each inch by the way your breathing staggers.

he pushes them down with a single movement, hips rolling forward just slightly as the denim slides past the curves of his thighs, pooling around his ankles in a wrinkled mess of fabric and heat. the ocean breeze kisses across the bare skin of his torso, but he doesn’t shiver—he just looks at you, like you’re the only warmth he needs, his chest rising and falling with the slow build of something that’s no longer just lust. even in the dim lighting, you can see how hard he is through the thin fabric of his briefs, the outline prominent and unmistakable, straining against the dark cotton with every breath he takes. but he doesn’t move to touch himself—not yet—he just steps out of the jeans and kicks them aside, the hush of the sand shifting beneath his feet grounding the moment in something painfully real. he’s gorgeous in a way that almost hurts to look at, like he was carved to be seen only in moonlight, the lines of his body sharp and soft in all the right places, his collarbones shadowed and neck flushed faintly with color. when he hooks his thumbs beneath the waistband of his underwear, his eyes never leave yours—not even for a second—and it makes your breath catch in your throat with how deliberate it all feels. it isn’t performative, not for the camera, not for a paycheck—it’s intimate, personal, almost reverent, like undressing in front of you is a privilege he doesn’t want to take for granted. and then, slowly, he starts to lower them.

he doesn’t climb on top of you right away—he kneels first, bare knees sinking into the edge of the blanket as his hands settle at either side of your thighs, his breath steady but deeper now, heavier. his eyes sweep over your body with a kind of hunger that’s been aching behind every look since he first saw your face, but now it’s raw, unhidden, his gaze softening only when it lands on your mouth. “come here,” he murmurs, voice low, almost hoarse, and you do—you lean forward instinctively, pulled by something magnetic in the way he’s looking at you. his mouth finds yours before you can say anything, slow and warm, lips molding to yours in a way that feels like he’s been craving it, like he’s imagined it too many times to hold back anymore. the kiss deepens gradually, never rushed, just sinking and sinking until his tongue grazes the seam of your lips and you part them for him without thinking. his hand cups the side of your neck gently, thumb pressing just under your jaw, not tight, just there—reminding you that he’s in no hurry to stop tasting you. you moan faintly against his lips, and that sound makes his hand twitch against your skin, a soft growl curling at the back of his throat. his other hand slides slowly down your waist, tracing the curve of your hip until it dips between your thighs.

his fingertips brush the inner seam of your panties, featherlight at first, just enough to make you shiver as the kiss deepens again—slower now, wetter, your lips parting around his with every sigh that spills between you. the pad of his middle finger presses gently over the damp fabric, circling once, and your breath catches in your throat the second he realizes how soaked you already are. “fuck…” he whispers against your mouth, the word hot and thick with disbelief, like it makes him crazy to know you’re like this for him. he pulls back just enough to look at your face, his thumb still tracing under your chin as his other hand slips beneath the fabric, the waistband stretching just slightly around his wrist. your thighs twitch when he makes contact, his fingertip dragging up your slit slowly, softly, gathering every bit of slick before circling your clit with unhurried pressure. your hips lift in response, a quiet whimper falling from your lips before you can stop it, and he groans quietly as if your reaction alone is enough to undo him. “you’re so fucking soft,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you, his eyes locked on your mouth again like he’s tempted to kiss you until you fall apart in his hands. his fingers slide lower again, dipping into your entrance just barely—just enough to tease—before pulling back to circle your clit again, slow and tender, like he’s learning every inch of you by touch alone.

his hand doesn’t rush. it slips lower with the kind of care that feels rehearsed—not out of boredom, but out of deep, deliberate control, like he’s been thinking about this moment for too long to mess it up now. his fingers skim the waistband of your panties first, not pulling, not yet—just stroking along the edge, like he wants to feel every last barrier before taking it away. his mouth stays on your neck, soft and unrelenting, lips brushing just below your ear as he breathes you in, the pads of his fingers finally curling beneath the thin fabric and grazing over your bare skin. you twitch—just a little—and he notices, because of course he does, and the low chuckle that leaves his throat vibrates against your jaw like it’s meant to settle under your skin. “you’re already so warm,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you, as his hand flattens between your thighs, cupping you fully, letting the heel of his palm press in just the right way. the friction is light—barely there—but it makes you gasp all the same, your legs shifting open without him having to ask. he draws slow, deliberate circles with his middle finger, not dipping in yet, just tracing over your clit like it’s his to learn, his to memorize, his to keep. your body starts to respond without thought, hips rolling into his touch, breaths coming in little stutters every time he drags his fingertip in tighter, more focused motions.

his kisses grow slower the more your body reacts, like he’s savoring each moan he pulls from your throat, like they’re all proof that you want this just as much as he does. he presses a kiss beneath your jaw, then trails down again, lips brushing your collarbone, soft and open-mouthed, like he’s marking a path only he’s allowed to follow. his free hand comes up to slide beneath your bra, thumb brushing your nipple with practiced ease as the other hand stays between your legs, his fingers never stopping, never breaking the rhythm he’s set. the ocean is a distant sound now, replaced by the soft rush of your breath and the quiet slick noise of his touch working you open. “you feel that?” he whispers, teeth grazing your skin just enough to make your stomach flutter. “you’re so fucking wet already…” your moan is breathless, not quite a plea, but it makes his jaw flex anyway, like he’s holding himself back, like if he doesn’t pace himself, he’ll lose it. his fingers slide lower for just a second, parting your folds to gather more of your arousal before circling back up to your clit, slick now, gliding smoother, deeper, more precise.

his touch builds pressure in waves—gentle, controlled, then a little firmer when you roll your hips just right, when your body pulses against his palm like it’s begging for more. he watches your face the whole time, eyes sharp and dark, soaking in every twitch of your brows, every soft drop of your lips, like he’s collecting your reactions to keep for later. your thighs tremble, and he moves with it, adjusting his angle so his finger presses a little tighter, a little faster, like he knows exactly what you need without having to be told. his lips find your shoulder, then the base of your throat again, his voice low and thick when he speaks next. “don’t hold back, baby,” he whispers, lips brushing your ear. “let me hear how good it feels.” his words shoot straight through you, and you do—you let your moan slip out freely this time, soft and high, your chest arching into him as his fingers work tighter, faster, pushing you closer to the edge. he’s not even inside yet and still, you feel like you’re going to break, like his touch alone could ruin you if he doesn’t stop—or if he doesn’t give you more.

his hand shifts, just enough to change the rhythm, his fingertips pausing at your entrance like he’s waiting for you to twitch, to gasp, to show him just how ready you are. and when you do—when your breath hitches and your hips shift forward just slightly—he rewards you with a slow, gentle push, slipping one finger inside you with a smooth ease that makes your entire body go still for a second. the stretch is light but firm, deliberate, like he’s testing the way you open for him, the way you take him in. his breath fans across your cheek as he presses in to the knuckle, and you swear you feel him smile just barely against your skin, his lips grazing your jaw like he’s proud. your walls clench around the intrusion and he groans quietly in response, a low sound that makes your thighs twitch where they’re spread in the sand, your back arched slightly into the curve of his chest. his finger curls slowly, just once, then again, dragging along the front wall with precision that feels far too confident for a first time. “so tight…” he murmurs, almost reverent, his eyes locked on the way your lips part and your lashes flutter shut. “so fucking good, baby.”

he doesn’t rush the second finger—not yet. instead, he draws the first one out nearly all the way before sliding it back in, slow and deep, letting the motion settle into something you can’t help but grind down into. his thumb never strays far from your clit, brushing it just enough to keep you gasping softly, to keep your body trembling as he sets the pace. the ocean behind you is nothing more than a backdrop now, white noise to the heavy rhythm of your breath and the quiet squelch of his finger gliding in and out of you, slick and steady. your hands clutch the blanket beneath you, fingers curling into the fabric, desperate to ground yourself as he keeps you hovering, not too fast, not too much—just enough to make your thighs ache. he leans in closer, lips brushing your ear again as he adds the second finger with the same slow care, easing it in beside the first and pausing once it’s buried to the base. “you’re taking me so well,” he breathes, voice low and full of awe. “fuck, you feel even better than i imagined.”

the stretch is fuller now, his two fingers working you open in slow, deliberate pumps that have your chest rising and falling in uneven gasps, your hips rocking down against his hand in search of more pressure. you feel full but not overwhelmed, the friction deep and purposeful, his fingers curling inside you with each thrust to press against the spot that makes your knees twitch. your mouth falls open as he picks up the pace, just slightly, his thumb pressing tighter against your clit now, circling in tandem with the rhythm of his thrusts. every movement is fluid, synced, like he’s orchestrating your body without ever taking his eyes off you. “you’re doing so good for me,” he whispers, lips brushing your temple now as his other hand cradles your jaw to guide your face toward his. “look at me, baby. i want to see you fall apart.” your eyes flutter open, hazy and glassy, and his expression darkens the moment you meet his gaze—like he’s feeding off your pleasure, like it’s pulling something out of him too.

his fingers push deeper, firmer now, each thrust met with the sound of your arousal slicking down his hand, your legs trembling against the blanket as you start to clench harder around him. the moans slipping from your lips are higher now, breathier, no longer controlled, and his lips find yours in the middle of one—swallowing the sound like he needs to feel every second of it. the kiss is slow at first, just like everything else, but it deepens fast, your mouths open and hungry, tongues brushing in time with his thrusts. the hand on your jaw keeps you close, keeps you steady, while the other works your cunt with dizzying precision, two fingers stroking inside you like they were made for it. every roll of your hips brings a low grunt from his throat, and you feel the tension building deep in your core now, coiling tighter with every passing second. “you’re gonna cum for me like this, yeah?” he murmurs between kisses, his voice hot and rough against your lips. “fuck—i want to feel it. want to see how pretty you look when you fall apart.”

your body’s already answering before your mouth can—hips stuttering, thighs trembling, breath catching in your throat as your walls begin to flutter around his fingers. his thrusts don’t stop, don’t slow, but his thumb presses harder now, circling fast and tight over your clit, dragging you toward the edge with no mercy. your moans pitch higher, breathier, as your body bucks forward, helpless against the wave building inside you. “that’s it, baby,” he whispers, mouth at your jaw again, pressing kisses between his words. “just like that… fuck, you’re so perfect.” the tension finally snaps, heat exploding low in your belly and rushing through your limbs as you cum hard on his fingers, your back arching and your mouth falling open on a sharp cry that gets lost in the crash of the waves nearby. he keeps moving through it, working you down slowly, his pace easing as you shake and gasp and grip his wrist like you need something to hold on to. your skin is flushed, your hair wild, your chest heaving as your thighs twitch with aftershocks.

you’re still reeling, breath stuttering in your throat and thighs trembling from the aftershocks, when he pulls his fingers from you with a slow, deliberate drag. they glisten in the faint moonlight, slick with your release, but he doesn’t even glance at them—his eyes are on you, completely locked in, like he can’t look away even if he tried. his chest rises and falls with a heavy rhythm, and you feel the heat from his bare skin as he leans in closer, the muscles of his stomach flexing with each breath. you barely notice the shift in his hands until he reaches past you, fingers brushing the tripod beside the blanket—still rolling, still catching everything. but he doesn’t hesitate. doesn’t even think twice. “fuck this shit,” he mutters, voice hoarse and low, as he taps the button to end the recording, the red light fading instantly as he tosses the remote into the sand like it means nothing. and then he’s on you again—no more angles, no more planning, just his lips crashing into yours like he needs you more than air.

the kiss is messy, deeper now, tinged with the urgency that’s been simmering beneath his skin all night, and you can feel the way his body trembles when your fingers slide down his sides. his hands roam with less restraint now, no longer careful or tentative but hungry, dragging up your thighs, over your hips, gripping the sides of your waist like he needs to anchor himself before he sinks too far into you. your name slips from his mouth between kisses, ragged and breathless, as he guides you back into the sand, the blanket doing little to cushion the heat of his body on yours. every movement is rougher now, more instinctive—the way his mouth latches onto your neck, the way his hips grind against yours like he’s already buried inside you. he settles between your legs with practiced ease, the tip of his cock dragging through your slick folds, catching at your entrance but never pushing in just yet, just teasing. “look at me,” he says suddenly, voice low but clear, his palm flattening over your cheek as he holds your gaze. “don’t look away, baby. not tonight.”

he pushes in slow, all at once, the stretch thick and satisfying, and your mouth drops open on a gasp as your body tenses beneath him. his groan is guttural—deep, broken—his forehead pressing to yours as he bottoms out, hips snug against yours, like he’s finally found something he didn’t know he was missing. he doesn’t move for a second, just stays there, buried inside you and breathing like he’s just run a marathon, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you can feel the tremble in his fingers. “fuck… fuck, you feel too good,” he whispers, almost in disbelief, like your body wrapping around him is something he can’t quite believe is real. his cock twitches inside you as you clench, your legs tightening around his waist, trying to pull him deeper, closer, like your body already knows how to beg for more. and when he finally starts to move, it’s slow, deep thrusts that drag every inch of him along your walls with unbearable friction, like he’s trying to memorize the way you feel. “this… this is better,” he breathes, mouth ghosting over your jaw, “better than anything we could’ve filmed.”

his rhythm stays steady at first—measured, deliberate—but the tension in his body starts to crack with each roll of your hips against his, and soon his pace turns rougher, more desperate. his hands splay across your thighs, holding you open as he fucks into you harder, his pelvis grinding against your clit with every thrust until you’re arching into him, gasping for air. the sand clings to your skin, sticking to the sheen of sweat along your back, but you can’t feel anything except him—his breath in your ear, the slap of skin against skin, the guttural sound of your name as he groans it like a confession. “you don’t get it,” he pants, voice cracking around the edges, “you’ve got them all wrapped around your finger—but this… this is mine.” and he means it—not with jealousy, but with something sharper, something closer to worship, like having you under him like this is a prize no one else deserves. your hands dig into his shoulders, nails leaving crescent marks behind as your next moan breaks apart in his mouth, and he kisses you through it, lips bruising against yours with every thrust.

his hand slides up your waist without slowing down, fingers pressing possessively into your skin as he lifts your hips just slightly—angling you in a way that has your breath hitching hard in your throat the moment he thrusts again. the new position lets him reach deeper, hit harder, and he feels the way you clench around him with every movement. your thighs tremble around his waist, barely able to keep your hold as your body starts to unravel beneath him, but you don’t dare let go. his mouth finds your jaw, then the sensitive spot beneath your ear, teeth grazing over the salt-slick skin before biting down just enough to make you cry out. the sound you make goes straight to his head, and he moans into your neck—low, rough, almost pained. “say it,” he rasps, his voice jagged and wrecked, the rhythm of his thrusts growing harsher, more erratic. “tell me it’s mine.”

you nod before you even realize it, head falling back against the blanket beneath you, hips arching up to meet his with helpless desperation. but it’s not enough. he stops. he’s buried deep inside you, cock pulsing, but he doesn’t move—his palm comes up, fingers curling tight under your jaw to force your gaze back to his. your heart stutters in your chest at the look in his eyes—dark, wild, possessive in a way that makes your thighs squeeze tighter around him, like your body already knows it belongs to him. “say it,” he growls again, this time softer, like he’s pleading even as he commands. “say no one else gets you like this. say it’s only me who gets to feel you. see you. fuck you.”

“it’s yours,” you whisper, voice cracking, lips trembling beneath his. your throat feels raw from moaning, from gasping, from the burn of everything he’s pulling out of you—but you say it again anyway, louder this time, firmer. “it’s all yours—fuck, only you. only you.” the second you speak the words, he exhales like they’re the only thing holding him together, and then he’s moving again—thrusting back into you so hard you feel it in your teeth, in your spine, in the way your body curls up into him like you can’t bear a second of distance.

the sound of your skin slapping together echoes in the cool night, and your moans fall out of you with each thrust, getting louder, messier, as you near the edge. his weight presses you down, burying you into the blanket beneath, into the sand, and it feels like you’re being claimed. he kisses you like he’s starving, mouth devouring yours, his tongue tangling with yours as his hips roll with purpose—grinding against your clit every time he bottoms out until your back arches off the ground and your whole body trembles beneath him.

you come so hard you forget to breathe. your legs lock around him, your nails dig into his back, and you cry out his name like it’s the only word you remember. the pleasure blinds you, rips through your core and steals every thought until all you can feel is him—his cock still driving into you, his name groaned into your mouth, his hands holding you down like you’ll disappear if he lets go.

he follows right after, hips jerking as he moans your name like it’s sacred, like it hurts to say. he spills inside you with a shudder, his body trembling above yours, forehead pressed to yours, breath mingling in the heavy heat between you.

but then his hand slides down, slow and deliberate, palm dragging across your thigh like he’s still hungry. his cock twitches inside you, not softening, and when he lifts his head to look at you again, there’s something dangerous behind his eyes—something greedy, aching, barely satisfied.

“not done,” he whispers, almost apologetic. “can’t be done. not when you feel like this.”

before you can speak, he’s moving again—rolling his hips into yours with slow, deep thrusts that make your breath hitch all over again. you’re still sensitive, your body still fluttering from the last high, and it makes every drag of his cock feel too good, too much, too soon. your fingers curl into the back of his neck, your back arching without your permission as he begins to build a rhythm, slower this time, more focused.

“you drive me fucking insane,” he murmurs against your neck, kissing the spot just below your ear, biting down softly when you gasp. “look at you—already trembling for me, still soaking wet, still so fucking perfect.”

he pulls almost all the way out just to watch your face, then slides back in with a groan that has his eyes fluttering shut, like your body is the one place he can breathe. every thrust is drawn out, measured and deep, making you whimper as the oversensitivity turns into something more potent—something sharper, hotter, harder to hold back.

his hand slides under your thigh again, lifting it higher around his waist, and the angle has you gasping, your nails dragging down his back. “gonna fuck you again just like this,” he pants, voice fraying at the edges, “right here, right now—until you forget anyone else even exists.”

his thrusts fall into a rhythm again, slower but deeper, more possessive now, like he’s not just fucking you—he’s reminding you. of who he is, of what you just gave him, of the way your body fits around his like it was made to. each stroke pulls a breath from your chest, a broken sound from your throat, and he swallows them one by one with kisses that land messy and hot against your jaw, your mouth, your throat.

you’re already too sensitive—every movement lights you up, makes your legs tremble and your hands scrabble for something to hold on to. he doesn’t let you run. one of his arms hooks under your lower back and lifts your hips, keeping you locked against him as he drives into you, over and over, deeper, harder, more sure. his body is heavy against yours but it feels grounding, anchoring, like he’s the only thing holding you to this earth.

“you feel that?” he breathes against your lips, his voice hoarse and wrecked, and you nod helplessly, nails biting into his skin. “feel how good you take me? how perfect you fuckin’ take me?” his hand snakes up between you, fingers pressing down on your clit with just enough pressure to make your whole body jolt. your hips buck, and he groans like you’re killing him, mouth crashing into yours in a kiss that’s more teeth than lips, more desperation than control.

you’re close again—too close—and the way he keeps grinding into you with that thick, unrelenting rhythm, the way his hand doesn’t stop moving, it’s like he knows exactly how to pull you apart. “come for me,” he says, voice shaking. “let me hear how good i fuck you.”

you do. you can’t stop it even if you tried. your second orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, ripping a scream from your chest as your body seizes around him, back arching, mouth falling open. your vision blurs with stars that have nothing to do with the sky. your pussy clenches tight around him, pulsing hard with every throb of pleasure as he fucks you through it, chasing his own high like a man possessed.

his name falls from your lips over and over—no control, no shame, just pure need.

he cums again with a growl, hips slamming into you one last time as he spills inside you all over again, the heat of it spilling out between your thighs. his head drops to your shoulder as he groans your name like he’s praying, like he’s begging, like he’s offering you something he doesn’t even know how to put into words.

you’re both still gasping for breath, tangled together in the heat of the aftermath, his body heavy against yours as the waves continue to whisper nearby. your chest rises and falls beneath him, heart racing, your skin dewy with sweat and speckled with grains of sand that cling stubbornly to every curve. for a moment, neither of you speaks—just the quiet hum of the ocean and the way his hand lazily traces up and down your side, smoothing over your ribs like he can’t stop touching you.

“you okay?” he finally murmurs, voice husky and low, warm against your cheek as he nuzzles closer. you nod, eyes still fluttered half shut, and you feel the smile that curls against your skin when he presses a kiss there. he doesn’t rush. his hand glides down, then hooks behind your knee, and before you can react, he’s lifting you up—effortless, like your weight means nothing in his arms.

you let out a soft squeal, wrapping your arms around his neck as he stands with you pressed against his chest, still completely bare, still glowing with the flush of what just happened. “what are you doing?” you laugh, your voice breathless and high, but it makes him grin even wider. “washing off the prettiest girl,” he teases, eyes sparkling as he starts walking toward the shoreline, feet sinking into the sand with every step. “can’t have you all sticky and messy, can i?”

you hide your face in his shoulder, body warm from both the afterglow and his touch, and you feel the rumble of his soft chuckle beneath your cheek. he wades into the water with you held tight, only stopping once the waves are lapping at his waist. the ocean is cooler than the air, and it makes you shiver when it first hits your skin, but he holds you tighter, anchoring you against him like a human heater. one arm stays under your thighs while the other curves behind your back, fingertips gliding in slow circles.

he dips you down a little, just enough for the water to kiss your shoulders, and then lifts you again, like he’s cradling something precious. you meet his eyes, and they’re so soft now—nothing like the fire from earlier, just quiet awe, like he can’t believe you’re real. he leans in to kiss your cheek, then your jaw, then your neck—so many kisses, each one slower than the last, lingering, lips wet and warm from the sea. “you’re perfect,” he mumbles between them, words brushing your skin like poetry, “so fucking perfect.”

you’re not even sure what to say. your fingers twist in the hair at the back of his neck as your heart thumps hard again, but for a different reason this time. this isn't lust—it’s tenderness, intimacy, something that makes your chest feel too small to hold it all. he keeps kissing you like he’s trying to memorize every part of your face, even as the water laps at your skin and the stars glitter quietly above.

“stay right here with me,” he whispers, voice carried by the breeze. and you do—you melt into him, let the tide sway around your bodies as he holds you like you’re the most important thing he’s ever touched.

you let him hold you, let yourself rest your cheek against his shoulder while the tide rocks around you like a lullaby, and for a while, it feels easy. his breath is warm on your skin, and his arms stay wrapped tight around your waist like he’s scared the ocean might steal you away. the kisses don’t stop—soft little presses against your neck, your temple, the curve of your shoulder—and he’s humming something under his breath now, barely audible but comforting all the same.

it’s sweet. too sweet. dangerously sweet.

you blink up at the stars, jaw tightening as the weight of it all starts to sink in—the way he’s looking at you, the way your body fits into his, the way your heart is beating a little too fast, too full, and none of this was supposed to feel like this. not here. not now.

he says something again, something playful and light about how you look good in the moonlight, but it barely registers. your throat tightens. you laugh, but it’s thin. and when he leans in again, you shift your head away just slightly, not enough to be obvious—but enough to breathe, to remind yourself this isn’t forever.

what the fuck is wrong with you?

you were supposed to have fun. that was the plan—go in, enjoy it, play the game, collect your wins, keep your heart locked behind your teeth. and yet here you are, getting carried into the sea like a scene from a dream you were never meant to be in. you’re getting too soft. too attached. and not just to him.

your stomach twists as the reality lands hard: this is just one night. one boy. one body. but your soul keeps making it something more, and if you’re not careful, you’ll end up falling for all of them.

your eyes flutter shut. you force a smile back on your lips and nestle into his shoulder like nothing’s changed. like your whole chest isn’t aching.

three more. that’s what you tell yourself. just three more times. and then you're done.

but even as you say it, you know you’re lying. and worse—you don’t know who you're lying to more.

natty's notesᝰ.ᐟ hey…hey….>.< okayyyy not as long as my other ones but don’t you worry, next chapter will be !!

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[mylonelylife135]

My pathetic Family

Vigilantes.

TW: Injuries, violence against (you).

.

.

.

Dick's parents died.

You found that out when you were eventually asked by Alfred how it went 'bonding' with your new brother.

You told the truth. Why wouldn't you? it's not like you had played with stuffed plushies and ate cookies together.

You tried to get to know this new sibling, and got yelled at.

What else was there to say?

"(____), The reason why Master Richard got angry is because... Because his parents are gone." Alfred's voice sounded guilty, like he didn't want to tell you this information without Richard's consent.

Gazing up at Alfred, you couldn't help but blurt out the words "Like my mommy?"

Alfred eyes widened in surprise momentarily before he regained his composure and ruffled the top of your head. "Yes, just like your mother, (____)."

You couldn't help but wonder why it was such a big deal, then? you didn't even know your own mom, let alone your dad.

Then again, if it was Alfred you would be very sad. So I guess you sort of understood where your new brother was coming from.

Of course, once Alfred found out that you and Richard had what could be honestly said as a horrible first meeting: He told Bruce about what had transpired between the two of you.

You didn't expect that it would strain your relationship further with your new brother when Alfred had informed Bruce of your unfortunate interaction with Richard.

It hadn't been more than a day after your interaction with Richard that he had barged into your room while you were playing by yourself, slamming the door open and looking furious.

It wasn't hard to find your room. Especially since Alfred and Bruce had Richard's room set up right next to yours in the hopes you would body with each other by being in close proximity.

Of course, that would never happen.

"You told on me!? Thanks for getting me in trouble you little-" Richard cut himself off, hands clenched tightly.

You stared at Richard wide-eyed on the floor, clutching a teddy plush to your chest tightly.

"I didt-didn't lie. Y-You yell at me bev-before and now." You responded back, confused since it wasn't like you lied.

Alfred told you to tell the truth! Like when you accidentally broke a plate or you took snacks from the fridge!

What was so wrong with telling the truth?

"It doesn't mean you have be a snitch!" What was a snitch?

"I-I am not!" You denied, clutching your stuffed teddy tighter.

You didn't know what a snitch was, but it sounded like a bad thing with how your new brother was saying it.

"Whatever, just don't do it again!" Richard turned on his heel, about to leave.

Your eyes were to the ground; You were tearing up again, you didn't like being yelled at.

It made you feel like you did something wrong.

"Are you mat-mad at me bew-becawse of your mommy and daddy being gone?" You asked, eyes teary and your voice shaky.

"...What did you just say?" You could hear your brother stop in his tracks, his voice suddenly quiet.

Maybe now you could try again, another chance. Another chance to get on the right track.

You didn't entirely understand your brothers situation but you did have something in common.

"My mommy is aw- also go-" you couldn't even finish your sentence before the back of your head hit your bedside table and both your face and back of your head burning with pain.

An ear-piercing shriek of pain escaped you, your tiny hands going up to clutch your face, blood gushing out of your nose and tears dribbling down your cheeks.

You looked up with blurry vision only to see Richard's baby blue eyes full of fury, then watched as it quickly turned to shock as he had realized what he had done.

He kicked you in the face.

He had just kicked Bruce's child in the face.

Richard took a step closer to you with a hand outstretched, and you instinctively backed up only for your back to hit the bedside table.

You immediately screamed, crying incoherently at Richard to go away and for your daddy.

Just as quickly as you had screamed, footsteps came rushing towards your room to the sound of screaming and crying.

You didn't remember much of what had happened afterward other than stumbling towards Alfred's legs and hugging them tightly before you were picked up. You rested your head on his shoulder, sobbing and clutching his neck.

You looked back with blurry and glassy eyes as Alfred rushed you out of your room; seeing Bruce standing in front of Richard and Richard's pale expression. Droplets of blood stained the wooden floors.

.

.

.

It was a miracle you didn't have to go to the hospital.

Fortunately, you only had a bloody, bruised nose and a bump on the back of your head.

Other than a slight headache and your face burning, you were fine.

You were fine. You were fine. You were fine. Alfred was furious and didn't leave your side, making sure to keep gauze in your nostrils, a cold compress on the back of your head and once your nose stopped bleeding some ointment to ease the pain and bandages on your nose.

Only when did you manage to fall asleep late into the night did Alfred leave your side to have a discussion with Bruce and Richard.

"Master Bruce, this is unacceptable! Do you know how badly he could have hurted (____) very badly if he hit any harder!" Alfred cried out, his voice full of anger at how the man he considered his own son was so apathetic. Bruce inhaled sharply, putting his cowl over his head "Alfred, I've already forbidden Dick from crime fighting as Robin. He will also apologize to (____)-"

"Master Dick has hurt your child! What good is an apology if (____) starts crying at the mention of his name!?" Alfred raised his voice, a hand on his head as he let out a heavy sigh. "Bruce, (____) is too scared to tell even me the truth about what had happened. All she is saying is that she 'fell.' No child manages to get injuries such as this unless she has fallen from a high tree." "..."

Richard was standing off to the side in the batcave, his head hung low in shame as he listened to his mentor and his butler arguing.

It was around 8 or 9 PM last time Richard checked, he didn't get the opportunity to find what time it was now since he had been yelled at for the last hour by Bruce and now was listening to Bruce and Alfred arguing about what he did.

Bruce was putting on his batsuit as he argued with Alfred, it was clear that what had happened was not going to stop him from going out and fighting crime tonight.

Richard glanced upwards as he heard small movements that he was positive wasn't Bruce putting on his batsuit as he argued with Alfred. He swore he could hear tiny pitter patters of footsteps- "Oh jeez!-" A curse almost escaped Richard's lips, causing Alfred and Bruce's to turn towards Richard before becoming dead silent.

You were in the batcave at the end of the steps, your eyes dead set on the three and clutching your favorite chameleon plush close to your face, as if to cover how bad your nose looked.

How did you even get into the batcave? Alfred was sure he put you to bed and the grandfather clock entrance that covered the stairs was covered as usual and even then there's a code that you shouldn't know unless-

"I heard yelling." You say quietly, a sniffle escaping you as you tried to breathe through your nose and it ached.

Your eyes were on your dad in a bat suit.

Batman.

He was Batman, You've seen him on T.V before with a boy in a red suit. You chattered excitedly to Alfred many times whenever you saw Batman on T.V about how Batman and Robin were so cool.

If Batman was your daddy, then Robin was Richard.

"A-Are you Batman, da-daddy?" your voice was scratchy from how much you cried before, you didn't like how your own father could choose to spend time with some lost kid over you voice sounded so full of pain.

Bruce and Alfred exhanged shocked glances, unsure of how to proceed.

Richard took a step forward, "I-"

"I will never forgive you or forget this. It-It is okay." You murmured tiredly, taking a step back instinctively and averting your gaze away from the older boy.

Alfred would gently pick you up and

That was it.

It may have only been two bad interactions, but these interactions would cement your relationship with Richard Grayson.

Or lack of a relationship, that is.

After this incident, you no longer played with your toys of stuffies to Alfred's concern.

You didn't really do anything until he gently suggested that you find a new hobby if perhaps you didn't enjoy your stuffies or tea party's by yourself anymore.

You would eventually chose a new hobby in a couple of months after this incident. That hobby would be (___________).

Alfred swore to himself to keep more of an eye on you after the incident since you were starting to act oddly.

Bruce would move on from this incident after a couple of weeks.

Richard? You didn't speak to him. He didn't speak to you. His room was moved away from yours after he hurt you.

You were scared of him and avoided him.

You had to give credit to Dick, though. He taught you something very important that you would never forget:

Lying is better than telling the truth, telling the truth would get you hurt.

Relationship Status!

Bruce Wayne (Your father): 0/100

-Why does he care more about some orphan over you?

Alfred Pennyworth (Your only friend): 85/100

-At least you can count on Alfred.

-He chose you.

-That means he loves you.

Richard Grayson (The one you fear): -30/100

-You don't like Richard.

-You're scared of him.

-Are you why my father doesn't spend time with me?

-He broke something inside of you.

A/N: You thought Damian would be the one to hurt you? NAHHHHHHHH THAT'S TOO COMMON IN THESE STORIES, HERE'S SOMETHING TO CRY ABOUT. If you did cry my bad. If you end up hating Dick? GOOD. It means I did a good job. ALSO there will be a poll up today! It will be up for until maybe tomorrow and will be relevant to chapter 4 and what your hobbies will be! (This will totally not have consequences later on.) Taglist!

@the-dumber-scaramouche

@sirenetheblogger

@bellethesleepypotato

@mev-fizzah-writes

@tsxukikami

[wonsiwon]

party’s over, pack your stuff | l.hs

synopsis | when heeseung returns from a party, he’s met with the shocking sight of his furious girlfriend tossing his belongings out the window and locking him out of the house. caught in the middle of a heated argument, the two find themselves pushing each other’s buttons, testing patience and limits as frustration and love clash in a chaotic standoff.

genre | stablished relationships?, fluff, angst, cracked

pairing | bf! heeseung x fem!reader

you and heeseung had been together for two years, and while there were plenty of good moments, the bad ones seemed to creep in more often lately. the fights were becoming a regular thing, especially on the afternoons after he came back from parties. he’d spend hours at a friend’s place, leaving you at home, overthinking and imagining the worst. he’d stopped inviting you to these big gatherings, and it was hard not to wonder if he was cheating. the thought of him with someone else, while you were lying awake trying to convince yourself it wasn’t true, was eating you alive.

then today, everything you feared felt real. you got pictures of him at a party, grinning at some blonde girl—the same grin that used to be just for you.

heeseung didn’t see himself as a cheater. in his mind, he was just being “nice,” brushing off the attention he got because of his looks. but that smile, the one he flashed at other girls, made you want to punch him in the face.

it was around 3:20 in the afternoon when heeseung pulled into the driveway, still half-drunk and barely focused on the road. all he could think about was crashing into bed—probably not with you since he already expected a fight. not that it mattered to him; you’d forgive him eventually. or so he thought.

he didn’t even get the chance to park properly when he spotted you through the window. without thinking, he jumped out of the car, his eyes scanning the scene. clothes were scattered all over the grass, and then, just as he stepped closer, a pair of jeans flew out the window, landing in a messy heap.

“what are you doing?” heeseung asked, his eyes flicking between the clothes scattered on the ground and your furious figure at the window. “are those my clothes?”

you didn’t bother answering. instead, you grabbed a shoe and hurled it at him, hitting him square in the head.

“baby, what the hell?” heeseung muttered, trying to dodge the rain of items falling from the window. he knelt down, quickly stuffing clothes into his arms, but it felt like no matter how much he picked up, more kept falling.

“grab your stuff and get out of here.” you said, and tossed a pair of jeans at him.

heeseung caught them mid-air and looked down. “are those my favorites?” he asked, still not fully understanding what was happening.

he then glanced around, noticing people from the neighborhood walking by and stopping to watch. he could feel the eyes on him, making the situation even more awkward.

heeseung was completely thrown off guard. he didn’t understand what was happening. it didn’t make sense to him.

“can you just—” he started, but the words got stuck. “what’s going on?” he looked up at you again, trying to find some clue in your expression, but you just stood there, arms crossed, staring at him coldly.

heeseung sighed heavily, running a hand through his messy hair as he stood there, surrounded by his stuff scattered all over the grass. his headache was getting worse, and your angry expression through the window wasn’t making it any better.

“y/n, can we just talk like adults?” he pleaded, trying to calm the situation down.

“adults?” you snapped, leaning out the window with a glare. “were you acting like an adult when you were grinning at that blonde all night?”

heeseung’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. his mind went back to the party last night, and after a few seconds, his eyes widened as it hit him what this was all about. “you’ve got it all wrong—”

“wrong?!” you interrupted, your voice trembling with anger. “what part of you smirking at her, leaning in all close, and god knows what else am i getting wrong?!”

“she was just talking to me! i wasn’t doing anything!” heeseung argued, waving his hands in a dismissive gesture. “you always overthink this stuff. it’s exhausting!”

“oh, i’m exhausting?!” you yelled, throwing a sweatshirt at him with force. “you know what’s exhausting, heeseung? sitting here, while the guy i’ve been with for two years goes around dipping his dick in any female that flashes him a smile!”

heeseung’s eyes widened, and he snapped back, his voice rising. “are you serious right now? i wasn’t fucking anyone, y/n! she was just talking to me! you’re blowing this way out of proportion!”

“talking?” you laughed bitterly, leaning further out the window. “heeseung, do you even hear yourself? do you think i’m stupid? you didn’t even bother inviting me to the party!”

heeseung threw his hands up in frustration. “y/n, it’s not what you think! i didn’t invite you because i knew you hate those parties!”

you clenched your fists at your sides, voice shaking with anger. “was it good, huh? was it good fucking that bitch while you had your actual girlfriend at home?”

heeseung’s eyes widened, completely caught off guard. “what the hell are you talking about?” he shot back, gripping the sneakers you threw at him. “i didn’t sleep with anyone!”

“stop lying!” you spat, leaning even further out the window, your anger boiling over.

“y/n..” he started, his voice getting more desperate. “you’re seriously out of your mind right now. i wasn’t doing anything! i didn’t touch her, i didn’t—”

“save it!” you interrupted, gripping the window frame to steady yourself.

heeseung dropped the pile of clothes back onto the grass and started walking toward the door, his face set with determination.

“don’t bother.” you said, a hint of satisfaction in your voice while holding up a shiny new set of keys. “i changed the handle.”

heeseung stopped in his tracks, looking at you, completely shocked. “why the fuck would you do that?” his eyes narrowing as he looked at the keys in your hand. his mind was still reeling from the argument, but now he was thrown off even more by what you just said.

you just smirked as you held up the keys. “you really thought you could just walk in here and keep doing whatever you want?”

heeseung’s jaw clenched, and he dragged his tongue across his cheek, clearly trying to keep his temper in check. both hands rested on his hips as he glared at you. “so, this is how it’s gonna be now? you’re locking me out like some stranger?” he was furious—this whole situation felt ridiculous to him. “you really think a locked door is gonna stop me?”

you rolled your eyes, leaning against the frame. “what are you gonna do, heeseung? break a window? crawl through the vents?”

he chuckled darkly. “did you change the back door too?”

your face went pale. you hadn’t. and even though you could’ve lied, you knew he wouldn’t buy it—your hesitation was clear. you watched his eyes flick to the side of the house, and then it clicked. before you could react, heeseung was already walking toward the edge of the house, that knowing smirk spreading across his face.

“gotcha.”

panic set in, and you pushed off the window frame, clutching the keys tightly in your hand. “this motherfucker..” you muttered under your breath.

heeseung took off running toward the backyard, vaulting over the fence with ease. panicking, you bolted down the stairs, nearly tripping as you tried to beat him to the door.

you hated yourself for how dumb you’d been, but even more, you hated the fact that heeseung was actually pretty smart. too smart. and the worst part? he wasn’t wrong. as much as you wanted to blame him for being insufferable, you couldn’t deny it was your own slip-up that handed him the upper hand. again.

you cursed under your breath, skidding to a halt in front of the door just in time to see heeseung standing in the frame, his tall figure all over you. his smirk was insufferable as he leaned against the door, looking down at you with a cocky expression.

you gasped, turning on your heels and sprinting back toward the stairs. “i hate you!” you shouted as heeseung darted after you, his long strides closing the distance quickly.

“i know you don’t, princess!” he called out, laughing as he chased you up the stairs.

your heart raced as you reached the top, your mind scrambling for a plan. heeseung wasn’t about to let this go, and you weren’t ready to give in just yet. you slammed the door of the bedroom, hoping to lock it before heeseung reached you. but just as it was about to close, his foot wedged itself in the gap.

“leave me alone!” you yelled, your voice desperate as you pushed against the door with all your strength.

“not a chance.” heeseung growled, using his weight to push it open.

the door flew back, forcing you to stumble a few steps away. before you could react, heeseung grabbed your wrist, his grip firm but not painful.

“let me go!” you shouted, twisting and squirming in his hold, trying to free yourself.

“stop it, y/n!” he barked, his voice low and steady, though his breathing was heavy from the chase. “you’re acting like a kid.” heeseung’s grip tightened for a second, but he didn’t pull you back. his gaze softened just a little, and his voice dropped. “baby, stop. i’m just trying to talk.”

but you weren’t ready to listen. you were too angry. “i don’t care what you’re trying to do.” you snapped, pushing against his chest. “you don’t get to act like nothing’s wrong when you’re out there doing god knows what with other girls.”

heeseung couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, the tension in his body easing slightly. “i didn’t do anything, baby. it was just a stupid conversation—nothing more.”

“bullshit!” you yelled, shoving against him harder, but all it did was make him chuckle. “why are you laughing? you think this is funny?”

“i’m not..” he said, his smile only growing wider. “it’s just funny how you get like this, all grumpy.” he reached out and pinched your nose, a playful gesture that only made you more frustrated.

you swatted his hand away, glaring at him. “this isn’t funny, heeseung!” you snapped, your voice sharp with annoyance.

he raised his hands in mock surrender, still smirking. “okay, okay. i get it. but you’re overreacting, baby.” his tone was teasing, but there was an underlying seriousness in his eyes. “i’m not doing anything wrong.”

“you always say that,” you shot back, your anger flaring again. “how am i supposed to believe you?”

“listen, i don’t know who sent you that picture, but i swear, princess, i wasn’t flirting with her.” he stepped closer, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “you can ask my friends.”

you scoffed, crossing your arms. “i don’t trust your friends.”

he raised an eyebrow, his tone calm but firm. “you trust jungwon though. he was there.”

the mention of jungwon made you pause for a moment. jungwon was the calm one in the group, always reliable, and someone you could count on when it came to keeping things straight. but the one you should really keep an eye on was no one but jake. he was the king of stirring up trouble, and you couldn’t count the number of times he’d egged heeseung on to do something stupid.

your silence gave heeseung an opening. he softened his voice, stepping closer, but still keeping a little distance to test the waters. “look, i get it. i screwed up, and yeah, maybe i should’ve kept my distance from her. but you know me, baby. you know me. i don’t care about anyone else.”

you rolled your eyes, though your resolve was faltering slightly. “you’re always sweet-talking your way out of this stuff, heeseung. it doesn’t change the fact that you were grinning at her like she was the most interesting person in the world.”

“sweet-talking?” he repeated, a playful smirk creeping back onto his face. “baby, i don’t need to sweet-talk. i’m just telling you the truth.”

heeseung took another step forward, and this time you didn’t move back. he reached for your hands, holding them gently in his. his thumbs brushed against your knuckles in slow, soothing circles.

“i don’t want to fight with you anymore..” he said softly, his voice steady and earnest. “you’re the one i come home to. you’re the one i care about. that’s not going to change because of some random girl at a party.”

you crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. “i’ll forgive you… only if you stop going to these stupid parties. and definitely not hang out when jake’s around.”

heeseung nodded quickly, a look of relief washing over his face. “i promise, no more parties like that. and no more hanging around jake if it’s going to make you this upset.”

you felt his hands gently grip your waist, but you didn’t pull away. instead, you looked him in the eyes, studying his expression. “i mean it, heeseung. i don’t care how much fun you think you’re having. if i ever catch you doing something like that again—”

“you won’t.” he cut in and gave you a reassuring squeeze. “no more parties, no more drama, just us.”

you let out a small sigh, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “good. that’s what i need to hear.”

you let him pull you into a hug, though you kept your arms at your sides, still not fully giving in. he pressed his chin against the top of your head, his voice soft as he muttered, “thank you, baby. i’m glad we’re on the same page now.”

you stayed there for a moment, both of you just breathing, when suddenly he froze, his expression shifting. “wait—” he said, looking toward the window. “the clothes.”

you followed his gaze, realizing he was just now remembering the mess outside. before you could say anything, he groaned and buried his face in his hands. “god, the neighbors must think we’re insane.”

you crossed your arms, smirking. “well, we kinda are.”

heeseung turned back to you with a playful pout. “can’t believe i almost lost my future wife and my home in one day.”

your cheeks burned at his words, but you refused to let him off that easy. “future wife?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow. “who said i’d marry you after this?”

he grinned, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around you again. “you’ll forgive me.” he said confidently. “you love me too much.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “you better start picking up those clothes before i change my mind.”

heeseung groaned dramatically, dropping his head onto your shoulder. “can’t we just leave them there? maybe the wind will blow them away or something.”

you pushed him off with a light shove, crossing your arms. “nice try. i’m not going to be the one explaining to the neighbour why your underwear is hanging from her tree.”

heeseung winced at the thought, rubbing the back of his neck. “fine, fine. but you’re helping me. you threw them out, after all.”

you raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe. “oh no, this is all on you, mister. think of it as your punishment.”

he sighed, giving you a mock glare before turning toward the stairs. “you’re cruel, y/n. absolutely ruthless.”

“and don’t forget it.” you shot back, following him downstairs to the front yard.

the scene outside was somehow even more chaotic than you remembered. a couple of kids from down the street were pointing and giggling as they passed by, and neighbour from next door was giving heeseung a very disapproving look from his porch.

“great.” heeseung muttered under his breath, bending down to pick up a pair of socks. “i’m the neighborhood clown now.”

you couldn’t help but laugh as you watched him gather his clothes, his tall frame awkwardly hunched as he tried to scoop up as much as he could at once. “well, you kind of earned it.” you teased, leaning against the fence.

heeseung straightened up, his arms full of crumpled t-shirts and jeans. “yeah, yeah. laugh it up. just wait until i get back inside.”

you tilted your head, smirking. “oh? and what are you going to do? throw all your clothes back out?”

he flashed you a grin, the kind that made your stomach flip despite everything. “nah. i’ll just make you fold all of them.”

you rolled your eyes, but a small smile crept onto your face. “dream on, heeseung.”

he chuckled, shaking his head as he bent down to grab the last of his things. as much as you wanted to stay mad at him, moments like this reminded you why you’d stuck around for two years. heeseung was frustrating, infuriating even, but he was also the guy who could make you laugh when you least expected it.

as he stood up, arms overflowing with clothes, he looked over at you with a sheepish smile. “uh, a little help?”

you sighed, walking over to take some of the load off his hands. “you’re lucky i don’t actually hate you.”

heeseung’s grin widened as he leaned down to press a quick kiss to your cheek. “and i’m lucky you’re still here.”

[timmydraker]

Tim calls a family meeting and everyone is assuming he’s got a big case he needs help with, which is alarming for someone who refuses to admit that some cases are beyond him.

So, everyone shows up at the cave only to be ordered upstairs by Alfred. For those who only showed up to make fun of Tim for needing help, this is confusing because case work ain’t allowed upstairs.

All do them figure out quickly that this means it’s not to do with Gotham or Ref Robin, but the man behind the mask.

Bruce and Dick were there first and because Damian is always with one of them, so is he.

Steph picks up Barbara and Cass, with Duke already at home and Jason showing up at the same time as Kate and Lucius.

When they all get into the lounge room used for when people are over, just two doors down from the actual family room, they all find themselves chatting casually as they stave off their own worries or confusion. Some of them try find out if anyone knows what’s going on, but when Alfred and Barbara reveal they have no idea, they give up and make a few guesses but no more.

When Tim finally comes in after Alfred received him, he looks tired.

It’s not usual for Tim to get distracted with work and not sleep for a while, but he will conk out for hours when he decides to and wake up alright.

The bags under his eyes, the redness within them, and the way he looks close to tucking himself into a ball…

Bruce is immediately leaning forward, opening his mouth to make sure his son is okay but Tim just raised a hand to silence him. “Just… just let me speak, okay? I need to do it now or I’m not going to be able to.”

Everyone gives him a nod or look of understanding, making him twitch a smile before inhaling deeply and psyching himself up.

“I have cancer.”

…

Nobody speaks as Tim exhales shakily.

Everyone is staring wide eyed at the young man before them, who just reached the legal drinking age, and trying to asses his physical form for an understanding of what he just said. They’re all trying to gain X-ray vision to see exactly what is hurting him all while trying to convince themselves they heard him wrong.

Tim closes his eyes and speaks automatically, leaning into facts like he always does when he’s freaking out, “I noticed I was getting by more tired and fatigued around last year. My doctor said I have a low white cell count but he wasn’t alarmed as it was still in the normal range. But a few months ago I started to note that bruises were taking far too long to heal and I was getting a lot of pain around my joints and bones.”

He inhaled again, shakier than before at the same time that Alfred sits himself down with a hand over his mouth.

“It’s stage 2 and because of my lack of a spleen it’s going to be a harder process for treatment but fortunately I own a medical company so there’s that at least.” He makes a sort of joking smile that falters immediately, falling into a pulled back frown that comes with someone whose about to sob as he adds, “But it’s also aggressive so I-I don’t know how-how to-fuck-“

Dick and Cass are immediately moving off the couches they are on and catch him as he finally crumbles into himself.

Bruce is next to follow, the stoic man openly crying for the first time in years.

Jason and Damian are in shock, both frozen in place as dread takes over their minds.

Steph is looking out the window, as if staring at some kind of his or deity and demanding an expiration as to why they have to hurt her loved ones so badly. She’s crying, but it’s silent which is all the more harrowing.

Lucius places a hand on Alfred’s shoulder to comfort the elder even as he himself itches to go comfort the young boy who helped him run the company when he was at his worst.

Kate leaves the room to go call Bette, needing her mentor because this is just something she can’t handle.

Duke is sobbing into his hands as he leans into Barbara’s lap. Barbara who is clinging to him like a lifeline as she feels her world shift once again, feeling so angry and confused at how one of them could be threatened like this. Of all the ways they could go out, was it really going to be cancer?

It was a harrowing experience for all of them to remember that they were human in more than just their flesh being able to bleed and be wounded, but for it to grow sick. For it to age and attack itself.

They were human at the end of the day and Tim…

In Metropolis, Clark Kent rushed into the bathroom at his work to throw up as he heard a conversation miles away.

[reminiscingthesea]

Part two of my stalker Phainon x nerdy reader fic!! You should be able to find part one just under this post!!

A/N- tysm again for the massive support and love on my last post, it’s honestly making me feel rlly happy and I’m genuinely considering making this a chapter by chapter fanfic (no promises tho idk what life may throw at me)

Synopsis- After establishing a friendship with you, Phainon simply can’t help but fall deeper in love with you. Yet, when an unknown variable- a pest- invades his peace, he feels as though things may take a dangerous turn for the worse.

Warning- Stalking, mentions of extreme violence towards another character, kidnapping, gore.

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Ever since you and Phainon became friends, the two of you would always be texting each other nonstop! Talking about silly things like teachers, cute videos, random drama, and also more in depth things, such as your shared interest of historical relics.

Because of this, the two of you would often set up dates hang out days to take each other to a local museum to research ancient relics or texts. Other days, when the two of you are both free, you’d each be cooped up in a corner of the campus’ library, reading literature and talking to each other with enthusiasm when an interesting point was reached. Albeit, not without the sound of angry shushing from the old, cranky librarian at the front desk. She could really hear everything..

However, when you reject Phainon on a day out to a relic site-seeing place, he feels confused, upset, dejected, but most of all, angry. Very angry, especially after finding out why you weren’t available.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Phainon. But I won’t be able to join you tomorrow on our little weekly day out. I have plans with someone called Mydei? You know him, right?” You spoke nonchalantly, flashing him a quick, apologetic smile as you watched him momentarily deflate at your initial rejection, before turning away just as quickly, not able to see his face morph into a look of wrath once you mentioned that name.

He stayed silent for a few moments, before beginning silently. His tone sharp and cold as he spoke, “Yeah, I happen to know who he is. Mydeimos, son of Gorgo or something. He’s a recent transfer student, isn’t he? What’s he hanging around you for?” He asked as calmly as he could, to mask his voice of envy and irritation behind his cool demeanour.

“Oh, uh.. yeah he is. He’s not very popular right now, so I was assigned to be his little study-buddy for the time being, sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. It’s a bit stupid how they thought placing a quiet kid with another quiet kid was a good idea, but….” You rambled on about your school’s inadequacy or whatever, blissfully unaware that Phainon was indeed not paying any attention whatsoever, and instead, focusing on the numerous thoughts flying through his mind at 360mph.

‘Has she gotten bored of me now?’ ‘What does this Mydei have that I don’t?’ ‘I bet he’s really fucking ugly, he’s probably just a charity case in her eyes.’ ‘Who does this Mydei guy think he is?’ ‘Is he asking for a death wish?’ ‘Maybe I should slice him up into pieces, and serve his meat as meatballs for her-‘

Just as Phainon’s internal turmoil reached its peak, a quiet clear of the throat could be heard from behind the two of you.

“Oh, hello, [Name]. I was told you’d be here, should we get going?” A voice spoke. The pair of you, Phainon and yourself, turned around to the sound of the voice. You smiled brightly at the sight, waving at the guy with your hand. Phainon on the other hand, stood still in shock as he took in the other man’s appearance.

“Ah, Mydei! Hello! I was just finishing up with my friend here, Phainon. We can get going soon, I just need to fix something on my phone. The two of you can chat for a bit before I’m done!” You chirped happily, stepping to the side to fix whatever glitch was on your phone now. Shitty campus signal was really no joke.

Bulky, muscular, slight tan, short, golden wispy hair with slight red ends, enchanting golden eyes, not to mention, ridiculously tall, almost taller than Phainon.. he seemed to be a good contender for your love.

“..Are you just gonna keep staring at me or what? It makes you seem odd, y’know?” Spoke Mydei, his voice deep and rich, with a slight edge of aggressiveness to it. Stunning Phainon out his stupor, he laughed quietly and bowed a bit apologetically.

“Ah, I apologise, Mydei. I was just thinking about something, nothing more.” Flashing Mydei a quick, sweet smile, he was met with a questioning, curious look, that could almost be comparable to a glare. Phainon swore he could see a flicker of understanding and awareness through Mydei’s daybreak orbs for a split second as they darkened slightly, before a soft sigh could be heard from you in the distance.

“Still glitched out. I swear, this campus really does not care about their students. The signal is terrible! Anyways, Phainon, I need to get going with Mydei now. We can chat later!!”

You stood next to Mydei as the two of you began walking away, waving quickly at Phainon as you walked away. However, what you didn’t notice, was the death glare that Phainon was sending towards the two of you, especially at Mydei.

But Mydei saw. With the turn of his head, he saw those icy blue, once bright, now dark blue orbs cutting deep with their intense gaze. He didn’t shudder or tremble in fear, no. He simply kept a blank, unreadable look on his face, looking Phainon up and down with his eyes, as if scanning him carefully, whilst you’d talk about something random.

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“So, Mydei. You told me you like to bake, is that right? Would you like to teach me how to bake? I’m more-so good at cooking rather than baking.. I always make the desserts too raw, or too dry!” You were both now in his dorm as you ranted, placing your books and bags on his table, granted with his permission, as you joined him in his kitchen, which was so much tidier than most other student’s kitchens.

“Hmph. The art of baking stems from the heart. Even raw or over baked goods are still delicious if you know the person made it from their heart.” He declared respectfully, handing a small black apron to you, whilst putting on his own soft pink apron on.

“Uh, are you sure this black apron is for me? I’m pretty sure you should be wearing this one-“ You’re immediately cut off as he sends you a quick death glare, which shuts you up just as fast, but you could’ve sworn there was a slight flush to his cheeks, that matched his pretty pink apron for a few seconds.

“If you looked, you’d know that apron is clearly too small for me. Of course yours is the black one. What? A man can’t wear pink now?” He asked aggressively, but not without a hint of playful aggression laced into the threads of his serious tone.

“I-I never said that!” You waved your hands in front of your face in distress and apology

“Quit it, I was just teasing you.” He uttered again, a soft smile now on his face as he took in the utterly adorable pathetic sight of you trying to save your case hopelessly.

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After a while, you had managed to create an adorable set of yummy cupcakes with the helpful guidance of Mydei’s exceptional baking skills. Opening the oven door, a warm air of sweetness and cocoa hit your nose, before enveloping his whole dorm.

“Looking good,” Mydei praised as you carefully took out the tray with some oven mitts and bent down to place them on the stove atop the oven, before going back down to close the oven door again. But in the reflection of the oven, you saw something for a split second- Mydei’s gaze on you, your form in front of him. Before you could notice fully, he quickly averted his gaze back to the chocolate cupcakes in the baking tray.

Was he praising you?

As you got up, he spoke, bringing in a piping baggie and holding it in front of you.

“Now that the cupcakes are done baking, we’re going to have to wait a bit before we can ice them, since they need to cool down a bit first. Otherwise, the frosting would melt and go everywhere.”

He then brought together the ingredients to make the icing, as well as three food colourings tubes

“Now, you can decide between red food colouring, pink food colouring, or blue food colouring. I don’t really mind either way.” He said, handing the tubes to you to decide which colour to use.

You looked at the food dyes in your hand, deep in thought. See, you had wanted to gift some of these cupcakes to Phainon to make up for having to cancel your little hangout, but you also saw the way Mydei was eyeing the pink food colouring in your hand.

“Hmm.. I think I’ll go with the blue food colouring! You don’t mind that, right?” You asked gently, giving him a look of sympathy as you saw how he deflated slightly at your decision. He took the other dyes from your hand without a word, but you swore you could see a hint of a small pout on his face as he turned his back on you.

“That’s fine. I’ll help you make the icing, I just need to get the right nibs for the piping bag..” He spoke, momentarily distracted as he rummaged through his cupboard to find an appropriate nib. He came back a few moments later, standing next to you in front of the counter.

“We’re gonna be using a simple nib today, no designs. Since it’s your first time, you won’t be using any intricate designs.”

You pouted playfully as you helped him whip together a batch of icing, dipping in some of the blue food dye into the mixture, and watching as it turned from white to a pretty shade of cerulean blue almost resembling Phainon’s eyes.

“Really? I’m sure I could do it! Please, an intricate design would be so cute! Plus, I wanna gift some of these to my friend, so..” You pleaded gently, looking away in shame as he shot you a scowl, which really just made him look like a cat, or a young lion. He turned back to the bowl, whisking carefully, before muttering something almost incoherent under his breath.”

“Would’ve been cuter if you used the pink dye instead…”

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Now, I’m going to teach you how to pipe the icing properly onto the cupcake. We can still make cute designs with a simple nib, so just listen carefully.” He announced, almost sternly as he filled the piping bag with the light blue icing, twisting the nib onto the corner of the bag, before handing it to you and taking a chocolate cupcake out the tray and placing it in front of you.

“Ice it.” He said, staring down at you as you held the bag almost cluelessly in front of you.

“I thought you were gonna help me..” You inquired meekly

“I just wanna see how bad you’ll do, that’s all.” He quipped back, a sly grin on his face as he stepped away from you. You could only narrow your eyes at him as you turned to try and ice the cupcake.

That poor cupcake was now subject to messy, uneven scribbles of azure blue icing, your handiwork was truly poor. You sulked, not being able to even take your eyes off the now eyesore of the cupcake, lest to not have to see Mydei’s face, which was probably adorned with a giant, stupid smirk.

But he wasn’t Phainon, as he chuckled softly and leaned his head near yours, trying to catch a glimpse of your sullen expression.

“You don’t have to pout like that, y’know? Not everyone’s going to get it right on their first time.” He sighed, his voice now taking on a more mellow, kinder, tone, more patient, as it was devoid of any aggression or abrasion. He then simply pushed that cupcake to the side and brought out another one from the tray, before wrapping his big, muscular arms around your form, gently holding you by the hand with his larger hand, as if guiding it.

“Just follow my lead, I’ll help you..” He spoke gently, almost intimately, as he whispered into your ear, huskily, coaxing your hand to lift the piping bag once more with his.

“Mydei..” You spoke hesitantly, shyly, as your cheeks flushed, which he could see through the faint red that dusted onto the curve of your cheek from behind, and on your ears.

“Call me Mydeimos, yeah?” He breathed richly into your ear as he steered your hand with his, squeezing it to coerce you into squeezing the piping bag tight once more, to start icing the cupcake.

You stayed silent as he helped you, but yoy couldn’t help but feel so unfocused as he stayed so close by to you. How his warm breath on your neck as he leaned down to whisper instructions or words of praise into your ear from behind, how it tickled the inside of your ear a little.

After some time, the cupcakes were all beautifully decorated with the icing, with pretty, intricate designs made with the piping bag due to his ‘guidance’

“Look at that, masterpieces in less than ten minutes. You’re a pro already.” He praised, his tone now becoming less husky and quiet, returning to its normal deep and resonate tone as he pulled himself away from you.

“T-thank you.. this was mainly your doing though, you helped me move my hand in all the right places and all..” You muttered quietly, blushing softly as you met his gaze.

“You’re being a lot quieter than you were before when you were with that.. Phainon? guy. Are you two..?”

“Oh- we’re not.. yet but he’s been acting odd lately. More distant and passive-aggressive at times..” You said sadly, thinking back to his colder tone as you told him about Mydei at the start of the day.

“Well.. maybe these cupcakes will make him feel better. You too seem to be close friends, so I’m sure he’d appreciate the gesture.” He answered calmly, almost sympathetically. But, a flicker of a possessive, almost excited glint glimmered in his eyes for a split second as he spoke.

Did he have a chance with you? He did enjoy your company after all

“You’re right,” You sighed “he’s normally really bubbly, so I’m sure something sweet and cute like this will definitely lift his spirits!”

Mydei could only look at you with an adoring unreadable gaze as you began packing up the cupcakes in a tidy container you had brought along with you to his dorm.

Suddenly, you felt one of the cupcakes being pushed towards your lips, the blue icing smearing a little onto your pretty lips.

“Wha-“

“It’s the failed cupcake, just eat it. I’m sure he wouldn’t appreciate it” He stated jokingly, shoving the dessert further until you opened your mouth to get it with a muffled giggle, covering your mouth and turning to face him, cautiously taking the cupcake from his hand and looking up at him.

“Thanks again, I really enjoyed this.. I didn’t think you’d be into these sorts of things, but I’m glad I got to know you and your interests..” You mused calmly, fully aware of the close proximity between the two of you yet again. You were almost pinned against the counter by him as he kept his hand firmly next to your torso on the counter next to you

The two of you could only stare at each other longingly for a few moments, before you both blushed and pulled away from each other.

“A-anyways.. I need to get back to my dorm now, I really enjoyed your company agai-“

“Let me take you. It shouldn’t be too far, right?” He cut you off, albeit, politely due to his sincere intentions. He didn’t give you a moment to think as he helped you pack your things, slinging his keys around his fingers, creating a quiet jingle sound as he did.

“Sure, I guess. We do both live on the same floor, no? Let’s get going then.” You turned to take your things from him and grab the tub of cupcakes on the table, before making your way to his door.

However, before following you, Mydei couldn’t help but momentarily turn his head over his broad shoulder, looking through the window behind his sink. His expression was dark as he felt another presence nearby, that obviously wasn’t yours. It was now dark outside, so he couldn’t see clearly. And he didn’t want to keep you waiting to go check up and confirm his suspicions. So, he simply smirked to himself and the dark outside world beyond the window.

He knew you were being watched and listened to the whole time, so why not give a little show, no?

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Phainon gritted his teeth and almost bared them like an angry dog’s at the entire spectacle from outside his window. You were now long gone from Mydei’s dorm, he had already slipped back into his own dorm, to avoid being caught by Mydei, who was already onto his ass from the very beginning.

“Shit. Fucking piece of shit. Who does that guy think he is? Touching her up, holding her like he’s fucking her. Whispering into her ear from behind like that.” Phainon mumbled angrily to himself as he tore a new one into a poor, fluffy pillow on the ground.

He pretended the pillow was Mydei. How he’d tear his resilient skin off his muscles, rip out each and every one of his axons and nerves, tear through that generous muscle of his, that almost rivalled his own. How he wanted to blend up his organs, crush up his skull, and serve it all raw to you, to show you his devotion.

But he knew you’d run away in fear, never want to speak to him again, be scared of him for the rest of your life. And he didn’t want that. In fact, he wanted the complete opposite. He wanted you to rely on him, make you depend on him. He wanted you. All to himself. No more beating around the bush, you belonged to him. And messing with a potentially even messier dog for food may result in trouble. So why not go for the food first before the other dog gets to it first?

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It had been a few days since your hangout with Mydei- or Mydeimos as he wanted you to call him.- The friendship between the two of you grew stronger, and you were happy about that! But there was still a growing ache in your heart.. what about Phainon?

He hadn’t contacted you throughout the days that had passed, and he wasn’t at his dorm either whenever you knocked to come check up on him whenever you were free. Initially, you had thought he was busy with his own classes, sports activities or whatever, but even during the times where he too was free, you could never find him, anywhere. Not in his dorm, the gymnasium, the gym, museums, cute cafes, nowhere. It also didn’t help how any text you send was always left on delivered. You were becoming worried, but most of all, upset.

You missed him, you wanted to see him, you didn’t like the thought of him being angry at you because of something you did. You had to make it right, you just had to.

It was a cold, winters evening, where the sun was already beginning to set at the dusking time of 6pm in the afternoon. You walked with determination to one of Phainon’s favourite places- grand library, much greater than the one on your campus- You had remembered when Phainon took you there during the holidays at the end of the first semester, noting how it was absolutely filled with loads of historical textbooks and fiction.

You had hoped, that just by a miracle, you would be able to find Phainon there, or at least get him a few books for him as an apology gift for canceling on him for someone else, even if it seemed small in retrospect.

However, the roads and streets were desolate, quiet, empty. Nobody liked going out or hanging around during these times due to the dark weather, and the gloom it brung along with it. But you were calm, you wouldn’t be out for too long anyways, the library wasn’t too far from your college’s campus to be out for so long.

What you didn’t know, was that someone was watching you, following you, drawing closer and closer as you advanced deeper into the darkness, until-

“What’s all that runni- HEY-! MMPH!! MMHMPH—-mmph- hmmgh-.. mmh…”

An unknown perpetrator had grabbed you from behind, their arms held tightly around you like a vice as their hand brought up a cloth to your nose and mouth, drenched in a form of anesthetic, forcing you to inhale the chemical skillfully. Once the unknown person knew you had been knocked out, they rid you of your belongings, discarding them on the ground besides you aimlessly, before dragging you away, and taking you someplace else, disappearing with you into the night.

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A few hours later, your eyes fluttered open with a few blinks, taking in your surroundings. It was dark to say the least, and cold, probably dirty too. Your vision was blurry, as it took you time to adjust. Once you did, you realised you were bound tightly to a chair, unable to move a limb, even by a tiny spasm from your muscles. There was also a cloth wrapped tightly around your lips, muffling any noise coming from your mouth.

Trembling in fear, you teared up. Was this the end? Were you about to be killed? Why would someone do this? Where’s Phainon? Phainon won’t know where you are.. You’re gonna die knowing Phainon hates you- Phainon- Phainon-

You didn’t even realise you were calling out Phainon’s name, even if it was muffled by your gag, as you felt a sharp, cold knife being pressed against the large vein in your neck from behind. Whimpering softly, you shut up, sweat beading at your forehead, as tears began streaming down your cheeks.

“So very pretty, aren’t you? A pretty little thing like you should know not to stay out so long i

n the dark, don’t you have a boyfriend to keep you safe?” They spoke, his voice sinister and low as he spoke, roughly yanking the cloth from around your mouth downwards to let you speak.

But you could only whimper pathetically again, your throat feeling dry as the words fell on your mouth.

“I don’t have one..” You answered weakly, your voice strained from the anesthetic previously used on you a few hours prior, from the dryness of your mouth and throat, due to the lack of water, and from your short sobs.

The figure chuckled lowly, evilly, a bite of inhumanity lingering in the sound.

“What a shame.. nobody to protect you, nobody to save you, nobody to help you, nobody to run to, nobody to love…”

Thoughts swarmed your mind as you thought of the endless possibilities of what may happen to you here. Bad thoughts, thoughts that made you even more scared, and cry even harder, louder. To which, you began to sob out loud. A genuine sound that your kidnapper took great pleasure in hearing. You felt their presence behind you back away, only to appear in front of you. They were masked, gloved, concealed fully in all black, with the exception of their eyes, which you couldn’t make out the colour of due to their mask almost covering it up completely.

Not being able to face the kidnapper eye to eye, you turned your head to the side and sobbed, not caring how stupid you may have looked as it lolled over the chair to the side. But they clearly weren’t having it, as they drew their knife under your chin, lifting it up with its sharp edge, to meet their thunderous gaze once more, eliciting a shudder and gasp from your lips.

“What’s the matter? I just want to see your face as I slice you open an-“

Their words are cut short as they gurgle on something- blood, before falling to their knees and side in front of you. What stood behind them shocked you to your core.

It was Phainon, standing tall above the man with a dagger in his hand, now coated in blood. His gaze was icy cold as he stared the kidnapper down, who looked back at him with a look of shock, and also, betrayal?

Before the kidnapper could get another word out, Phainon stepped on the back of your captor’s neck, crushing it with his weight, before turning back to you, who was horrified and motionless, face turning pale.

“P-Phai-“ You choked out, before sobbing loudly in fear and relief. His gaze immediately turned to one of immense worry and love as he dropped the dagger and cradled your face in his hands, looking at you with eyes full of distress, scanning over your form with despair.

“[Name], [Name]! Listen to me, you’re fine, you’re okay. Shh.. Hey- stop crying, please.” He gently patted your cheeks as he got down on his knees in front of you, having kicked the now dead body of your kidnapper away.

When you didn’t stop crying, he could only wince in sadness and frustration, making quick work at the rope around your legs that bound them to the chair’s legs. He whispered soft shushes to try and alleviate you somehow, which obviously didn’t work.

Once he had untied the rope’s tight knots around your ankles, he moved behind you to untie your arms from behind your back over the chair, which soothed a soreness from there that you didn’t even pick up when you woke up as he loosened the rope. He kept muttering small “I’m sorry..”’s into your ear from behind, his voice ever so soft and comforting.

Having fully untied you, he took you off the chair and brought you down onto the floor with him, cradling you against his large, warm torso, stroking your hair as you sobbed into his chest, soaking his light blue hoodie.

After some time, you had calmed down, albeit, still sniffling and choking slightly as you tried to speak.

“P-Phainon.. I— hic- I’m s-so sorry… I w-wanted to apologise- sniffle- but-“

“Shh.. it’s fine, [Name]. You shouldn’t be the one apologising, it should be me. I… I got you into this mess because of my own pride and communication issues, even if you told me to improve on it. I’m sorry, you’re safe now. Please don’t apologise, I was so worried when you weren’t picking up my calls…”

You heard a sob coming from him as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, crying gently at his own stupidity, the same stupidity that got you in this position. You couldn’t help but rub his back gently, trying to comfort him now, but he only let out a slight huff at your actions.

“..You shouldn’t be comforting me.. I got you into this mess, I almost got you killed. I was so stupid I-..”

“Phainon, i-it’s fine. You got me out of this mess, didn’t you..? And- and I don’t blame you for ghosting me or keeping your distance from me- I shouldn’t have cancelled plans on you last m-minute.. you didn’t know it’d end up like this..” Your voice was calmer now, less broken and fixing up as you spoke, trying to reduce his stress and worry.

‘You didn’t know it’d end up like this’ what a joke. He thought to himself.

“I just.. I was so worried. I tried messaging you back at 8pm to talk it out, because I knew you were most active during those times, but you didn’t answer. I spammed you so much and tried calling you so many times, but no answer…” He let out a shaky sigh as he ran a hand through his hair before continuing, “..I went to your dorm, knocked and waited there for so long, but you weren’t answering- I was terrified at that point.. Then, I went out and tried looking for you outside campus, still didn’t find you. And then- I saw it all.. your things. Your bag, your phone, everything- on the ground near some old trash cans near the side of the road. It took me ages to find you, but I spotted some desolate area and thought I’d try my luck, and thank goodness I did..”

He hugged you closer, before picking you up in a princess carry delicately, as if you were made of glass due to your more fragile state. He soon made his way out the room, making his way through the labyrinths of rotting walls and long, creepy corridors. He made sure your head was tucked away under his chin in the crook of his neck, so he could hear your breathing through his ear, in case anything went wrong.

“I have your phone and keys with me too, they must’ve fallen out whilst your kidnapper took you away, hm? Must’ve been terrifying, poor thing..” He gently swiped a piece of hair away from your face, which was all red, puffy, and wet from all your crying, giving you a pained expression in return to the sight.

As he carried you back into the campus, everything was a complete blur, and he could only slowly rock you back and fourth like a baby, to ease your nerves and mind, and coerce you back into reality as he swiftly entered your dormitory’s floor, reaching for the key in his pocket and unlocking the door swiftly.

He carefully lay you down on your room’s couch, getting on his knees again and stroking your head gently, a sad, hurt look on his face as he acknowledged your agitation and trepidation, after such a frightening experience.

“Just rest now, okay? You look so tired.. Don’t worry, [Name], I’ll keep you safe and watch over you. Just get the sleep that you need..” He lightly commanded, staying there, on his knees, until you drifted off into the realm of dreams peacefully.

He sighed in exhaustion as he got up, rubbing his forehead and looking at you with pure love in his eyes.

“…You know why I had to do this, right? Why I had to have some disgusting kidnapper take you away for some time? I need your love, your attention, your trust in me.. I’m so, so sorry, my love, but I had to. Otherwise, that pest- no. That virus, Mydei, would’ve taken you away from me, and I just can’t let that happen. I can’t imagine a life without you, [Name]….” He preached reverently, as if he was looking down at you like you were the embodiment of the divine, speaking to you as if you were his God. But you were. You were his to worship, his to love, his to keep safe. And he was going to make sure of that. One way or another, even if it meant hurting you in the process.

You belonged to him and him alone.

[holokitti]

‧˚⭒ pairing: jealous!bf!hyuck! x reader. ‧˚⭒ genre: smut! mentions of mark. (18+ MDNI.) ‧˚⭒ word count: 558 ‧˚⭒ cw: choking, exhibitionist hyuck, cursing, jealous/angry sex.

» read part two here.

boyfriend hyuck who has you pinned down on his bed. your legs wrapped around his waist as he lifts you up by your thighs, gripping them. his headboard rocking back and forth— hitting against the wall with every deep thrust he lets out on you. the room filled with the dirty wet sounds of his cock sinking into your insides and the lewd noises escaping your mouth.

what you forget for a second is the fact that his roommate, mark, is in the other room, sharing that same wall with donghyuck.

also, mark was home.

it dawned on you minutes ago that mark might have realized what could possibly be going on in the next room. your focus was too deep on donghyuck and his grunts against your neck, the harder he continued against you.

‘til the moment you heard mark’s door open, the sound of his footsteps growing closer against haechan’s door.

uh-oh.

you grow concerned for a second, thoughts roaming in your head. what if mark was listening to you two? what if he heard all the dirty sounds coming from hyucks room?

hyuck realizes your mind is elsewhere for a moment, and he brings his eyes to yours. “what’s the matter, baby? is everything alright?”

you nod, gulping. his concern is sweet, and the touch of his fingers against your face is reassuring. however, his thrusts never came to a stop.

you whimper and squeeze around him when you hear mark shuffling near the door.

“hyuck…” you eye the door, attempting to send the message to your boyfriend.

he looks back, a brow raised in confusion, “use your words, sweetheart.”

you look up at him desperately. he loves seeing your face scrunch up in pleasure by how he fucks you. pride washes over him knowing he’s the only one allowed to ruin you like this.

his eyes immediately snap up to yours, the minute the name escapes your mouth, his thrusts come to a full stop.

“mark…” you try to warn him, his previous thrusts so deep, your pleading sentence sounding more like a moan.

“what was that?” something dark possesses hyuck.

“m-mark…he’s listening….” you point to the door, sweating, as you felt the sudden lost of his cock inside you. you whine, missing his warmth.

suddenly his hand wraps around your throat, giving you a difficult time to take proper breaths. he slams his cock back into you deeper and harder, your eyes roll back in intense pleasure.

his hand still having a hold on your throat, only he’s cautious with the amount of pressure he applies. something dark is still living in his expression and his voice grows deeper, “don’t you ever moan another person’s name while i fuck you.”

you try to respond, unable to from the pure shock and pleasure you’re experiencing.

“fuck– respond when i talk to you. hm? do you understand?” his smile sinister, fully aware of the affect he has on you right now.

you nod your head quickly, “yes donghyuck…”

he clicks his tongue at you, “that sounds much better. now, let’s give him a good show.” he smirks, whispering against your ear. he continues to lift your legs over his shoulders again, repeatedly thrusting into your weak spot.

you lost count at how many orgasms he gave you that night, and so did mark.

[vrystalius]

Hashira men reaction to Reader slapping their ass

Hashira’s reaction to you slapping their ass.

Self-explanatory, isn’t it?

Pairing: Sanemi, Kyojuro, Tengen, Giyuu x gn!reader

Genre: Crack, fluff?

Length: short and sweet

Notes: Yes. I needed this lmao.

Sanemi Shinazugawa // Wind Hashira

He is angry, embarrassed, confused all at the same time while also yelling at you, because HOW dare YOU?

Sanemi is more upset at the fact that you managed to sneak up on him and how he trusted you to the point he was able to turn his back on you and expect nothing, and yet you broke that trust by slapping his ass, just like that.

His second reaction is embarrassment. Doing this in private is one thing, but in public? You better turn around and bend over because Sanemi has a foot to shove up a certain someone’s bottom.

And lastly, confusion. Why? Why him? Why here? Doesn’t this usually work the other way around? Isn’t Sanemi supposed to be do ing that to you? He wouldn’t do that in public though. Unlike somebody.

You and him will be having a serious conversation when you two get home.

—

Kyojuro Rengoku // Flame Hashira

His first instinct is to let out a small laugh before snapping his neck like an owl to look at who had done that. Once Kyojuro sees that it’s you, he chuckles a little more, but now more in confusion rather than in delight.

First, he thought you might be joking or playing around, trying to tease a reaction out of him, because what other reason could be there for you doing so intimate both so openly and randomly?

Kyojuro also thought about how you maybe want attention and have asked for it in a very up-front way. Perhaps you want to make love to him right now, right here…?

He ended up never asking why exactly you did it, instead blurting out some stutters of sentences while his face heats up. You could’ve sworn that his sweat turned into steam and were able to watch it rise into the sky.

Kyojuro ended up slapping your ass a week later out of nowhere, trying to get the message across that he is in the mood for some alone-adult-time. You ended up slapping him across his face.

—

Tengen Uzui // Sound Hashira

It’s not a rare back and forth between you two. Sometimes it’s Tengen’s turn to slap you on the ass, sometimes it’s your turn. It’s almost always a joke or a tease.

Emphasis on almost. Tengen’s slaps sometimes are a little more harsh than usual, making you yelp and slap him on the arm in return. He lives to annoy snd get a rise out of his partners, so slapping you twice as hard seems like the easiest way to do it.

After one too many slaps, you decided to retaliate and slap him back, but he barely flinches, that bastard.

Tengen, thanks to his training and excellent hearing, can anticipate your attack on his ass and clench the muscles at the right time, resulting your assault barely having any effect.

You, Suma, Makio and Hinatsuru ended up tackling and holding Tengen down while everyone got their fair turn to kick his cheeks for revenge.

—

Giyuu Tomioka // Water Hashira

Shocked, flabbergasted, embarrassed, baffled. Giyuu’s face ran blank and colour drained from his face the second your hand met his bottom. You watched him literally turn into stone, not even confronting you for your action.

What is the appropriate response to getting their ass slapped out of nowhere? Giyuu is torn between asking what is wrong with you and crying about it. Instead, he turned to you and simply stared at you. Nothing came out of his mouth.

Confused about the lack of reaction, you decide to ask him if he’s okay, but he doesn’t respond to that either, instead eyeing you up and down judgementally before walking off silently.

You learned to never do that again to him. You’re still not sure up to this day if Giyuu cried afterwards.

💠

Author’s Note. Thank you for reading!

This was pretty much just for fun and shouldn’t really be taken seriously— but I hope you enjoyed this anyway! Btw sorry for taking such a long time to answer to this 😭

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <33

[faramirsonofgondor]

Something something time travel shenanigans where Dick is de-aged to nine years old. He’s a little murder gremlin who wants nothing more than his family, and he can’t get that so settles for bloodlust and revenge. Except now he’s in the future where he does a family, even if he doesn’t them yet. He gets to know them over time, he grows particularly close with Alfred, though he loves Bruce and Tim as well. Then he hears someone mention Jason, a boy Dick has never met. Bruce won’t tell him anything and the others are frustratingly quiet, so Dick does some digging. He finds out he had another brother. The boy in the photos he finds is small and thin, but his smile is one of the brightest things Dick has ever seen. Dick doesn’t understand why Bruce would have kept this from him. Then he finds out more. He learns that Joker killed him, that another person tore his family away from him, that another person he loved was left unavenged.

And Dick gets angry. Not his usual screaming, biting tantrums kind of angry. No, this anger is much colder. He knows from experience that Batman won’t let him kill, and he knows that for whatever reason the others are probably on board with that, seeing as they haven’t killed Joker either. Dick knows he only has one shot at this, and he has to plan this carefully so he doesn’t give himself away or implicate himself more than he means to. He waits for Joker to break out Arkham, watches him as he takes sanctuary in some old decrepit warehouse, and then executes his grand plan; the last joke that Joker will ever live to see, his last laugh. Nobody really knows how he does it. They all know he did it, but there’s no way to prove it, despite the real story being hysterically implausible. There’s no way that Joker died slipping on a banana peel, right? It had to be some sort of set up, some sort of foul play or something. After all, several goons mentioned the unnerving cackles coming from all around the building even after they’d found the corpse, the laugh being identical to one they’d heard so many years ago.

Meanwhile, Red Hood is crashing out in distance, upset over the fact that a fucking banana peel managed to spoil all of his carefully laid plans. When he’s done with his fit of rage, he catches wind of the fact that people are suspecting that fucking ghost of Robin or some other magical shit is what really killed Joker. Jason has a brief moment where he wonders if there’s actually a 15 year old ghost version of himself that just murked Joker. Then he hears people talking about how the murderer’s distinctly creepy cackle, and he’s thrown back to the time he was watching footage of Dick’s time as Robin and saw him drop 20 feet onto some guys arm while cackling the whole time. He’s so fucking confused by everything that he just decides to stop with the drama and confront Bruce directly. Instead of the reaction he was expecting (tears, shock, fear, denial?) Bruce just sighs and mutters something along the lines of “Of course” (Bruce is now convinced that tiny Dick raised Jason from the dead somehow so his family can be complete again) before telling Jason that Dick is upstairs and to talk to him. Jason is more than a little annoyed at being brushed off but decides he’ll deal with it later because he wants his answers first. His answer comes in the shape of a 9 year old bloodthirsty child sprinting at him full force and latching onto him like a koala bear. After ten minutes, Jason gives up on dislodging him and resigns himself to having to live in the manor for the rest of his life or until they fix Dick’s situation (though he’s doubtful that adult Dick would be willing to let him go either).

Eventually Dick gets re-aged and does not, in fact, let go of Jason. Bruce tries to confront him multiple times about how he killed Joker but Dick just feigns amnesia. The only bad thing to come out of the situation is the amount of banana-themed items that are gifted to Dick every anniversary of Joker’s death.

[devotedsweetheart]

・❥ SAY IT AGAIN

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ rundown :: you find out caleb had been logging into your phone at random times of the day to keep track of who you were texting. frustrated, you call him to yell at him only to question what exactly he was doing on the other end.

WARNINGS :: NSFW! 18+ , phone sex , sub!caleb (per usual) , masturbation , cnc , use of y/n

a/n :: highkey got this idea from that one scene in twk when cardans kissing jude & telling her to say she hates him..🌝🌝

he had absolutely no right to be invading your personal space. absolutely none.

you were so fucking angry.

caleb was away on a trip with gran. usually, he would simply ask to check your phone, and you'd happily give it to him- knowing he means well. but with the shit he has been pulling, you're starting to question whether or not he really does trust you like he says he does.

you had found out that he was hacking into your phone because the device started acting awfully odd. opening apps you didnt click on, siri turning on without any context, letters on the keyboard being pressed when you never tapped on them in the first place. confused (and frankly a little scared), you took it to a professional to get it checked out. when he asked if anyone else had the password to your socials, thats when the realization dawned on you.

you felt so stupid. utterly dumb. but how were you supposed to know? you had told caleb about the issue multiple times and each occasion you mentioned it he would always say the same thing: "thats so weird, pips.. maybe you should go get it checked out or something." feigning complete innocence.

you had enough.

driving home as fast as you could, you barely reach the front door before you're calling him nonstop until he answers.

"hey pips! i missed yo-"

"you fucking liar."

there's a beat of silence at that. your breathing is heavy, going right into the mic- giving caleb an idea of what he's in for.

"um.. excuse me?" caleb manages, swallowing thickly. he knows exactly what you're going to yell at him for and he's praying to jesus christ himself that he can manipulate his way out of it.

"you know exactly what i'm talking about, don't try to play dumb. you've been going into my phone and looking through my shit. i thought you said you trusted me? what happened to that? i mean, seriously, caleb, i thought we had gotten over this." you say, voice pinched a bit higher than usual. you're pacing around the room in order to keep yourself calm, heart beating at a distressing rate as you don't like to argue with him.

"pips, i really don't know what you're talking about," he utters, licking his lips. "i know whats been going on with your phone has been messing you up, but you don't necessarily have to blame me for it. look, once i get back i'll help you figure out what's wrong with it just to prove that it's not me. deal?"

you can tell that he's trying his best to soften his tone to make his lie more believable, but you aren't gonna buy into it.

"no. no, caleb, just quit the act already. i'm so tired of this. i'll give you two choices," you say, sitting down on the couch; elbows on your knees. "either you stop with the whole hacking thing and we stay together, or i cut things off with you and we never talk again."

for a moment, there's nothing being said. pure silence. he's absolutely speechless on his end of the phone, mouth agape and eyes wide. every few seconds, he'd attempt to say something but nothing would come out- resulting in something that resembled a stutter.

"well? what's it gonna be?" you asked, becoming to grow impatient.

"y/n.." he whispered. "you.. you can't do that to me. i-.. i'm sorry for doing all that crap. i didn't do it because i don't trust you... it's other people that i don't trust. please believe me, baby. i can't stop doing it, it's just my way of keeping you safe."

aaaand now it's your turn to be shocked.

"are you fucking serious?" you yell, and you swear you can see the look on his face regardless if he's visible or not. eyebrows raised up, cheeks as red as roses, eyes backed up with tears. you know how much he hates being yelled at by you... but he deserves it. "you can't be serious. please tell me you're pulling some joke."

" baby, please. i-"

"enough. just quit it. i fucking hate you, caleb."

he swallows. no, practically gulps. he shouldnt be turned on by the sound of that. he really shouldnt. he knows he should be terrified by the threat of you leaving him... but the tent growing in his pants is getting undeniably uncomfortable that he just can't seem to care.

unzipping his jeans, he gently lays his back on his bed, being carefully quiet to ensure you don't hear.

"you're fucking insane and no matter how much i try to talk to you about it you never change. it is draining, caleb. you have absolutely no idea how fucked up you are."

he's nodding against his phone, murmuring small 'yeah's here and there to let you know that he's listening. what you aren't aware of is the fact that instead of really listening, he's actually moving his hand at an insane speed on his dick. it gets to the point that he can't even respond, the pleasure taking over. all he needs is for you to tell him how bad he is and how much you despise him for him to be able to go over the edge.

the fact that you don't even know whats going on keeps him going for even longer.

"...-is so frustrating, caleb! you don't even care for me and... wait, are you even listening? hellooo?" you shout, expecting an answer.

he picks up his phone from where it was sitting on his pillow and takes it off speaker phone to reply. "y-yes, baby? 'm sorry.. i'm, um, listening. keep talking." he responds, stuttering over his words.

you roll your eyes, thinking he simply just doesn't care. "my god, you're so fucking annoying. i hate you so much, y'know that?"

he nods hastily, even though you can't see it. "y-yes. say it again. please." the last word comes out broken as he was embarrassingly close to cumming.

you stop in your tracks, both eyebrows furrowed. "um..." you utter, confused at what he was playing at. "i... hate.. you..?"

"f-fuck!" he whisper-shouts, hips thrusting into his hand as he drops the device back onto where it was initially. he brings his previously free hand down to his cock to stroke the tip, twisting his wrists. biting his lip, hard enough to draw blood, he makes his best effort to keep little whimpers inside of his mouth. it works for the most part... but you already knew what was happening. he does it too many times for you to not know.

"caleb." you warn.

he doesn't answer, he can't answer, mind is too hazy from the force of his orgasm. he's practically like putty on his bed, half asleep and half awake.

"text me in the morning." you say before hanging up and throwing your phone on the bed.

he will not ever learn.

[creamecafe]

Can you write the headcannons where the squid games s2 men react to you flinching during a fight please

How Season 2 Squid Game Men Would React To You Flinching During an Argument

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Pairing: Season 2 Squid Game Men x GN!Reader

Warnings: mentions of domestic abuse, angst

Author's Note: Thank you so much for requesting! To anyone who's going through something like this, please know that you're not alone.

National Domestic Violence Hotline is 800-799-7233. They are open 24/7. Youcan also text too. Please talk to someone and get the help you deserve or possibly help someone. No one, doesn't matter big or small, man or woman deserves to be mistreated or feel like they're in danger in a relationship

National Domestic Violence

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Seong Gi-Hun (Player 456)

Stops arguing with you immediately and realizes what you might think of what he was going to do to you

He knew he changed a lot, but he never thought he would change in ways that would make you scared of him

Reassures you and tells you that he would never even think of hitting you even when he's so upset.

Young-il (Player 001)

Is used to people being intimidated by him, but by you is a different story

Never would want you ever to be afraid of him

Talks to you in a now calmer tone and apologies to you

He holds you close and kisses you, saying that he'll never put his hands on you, or even the thought of doing so would go on his mind

If he only knew of who was responsible for that in the past, he'll kill them

Thanos (Player 230) (I love this GIF of him, ok?)

Is confused at first why you flinch

Then it clicks in his head of why you did so

Were you really thinking that he would hurt you? He thought to himself

Has been hit by his mom before so he understands it all so well

Drops his smart ass, wanting to be right all the time persona and tries to make things with you

Kang Dae-Ho (Player 388)

His heart felt like it broke when he sees you flinching

He thinks you must see him as a monster, just like his dad

Steps back away from you and goes to lock himself away in his room

It seems emotionally immature to do so, but he doesn't want to take a chance to hurt you even if it's a accident

When he calms down, he hugs and cries saying he'll never raise his voice again and he's sorry for ever making you feel afraid of him

Lee Myung-Gi (Player 333)

He knows he has made big mistakes before and tries to fix them

But the action he did towards you, will never leave his mind

He never thought he could be seen as an abuser in a relationship or make you afraid of him

Making you angry or a little sad, he could live with that. But afraid?

It takes all he can to apologize to you without crying, because he doesn't want to lose you or even make you feel like he would put his hands on you

Nam Gyu

Dissociates when he realizes

Takes a few steps back to calm you down

Looks down at his and shakes of the many times you probably had in your mind if he really was going to hurt you

He shakily apologizes to you and his voice trembles that he'll never hurt you and if he does, he doesn't deserve you

Hwang Jun-ho

He's been a police officer long enough to know why you would flinch

He has had calls of domestic abuse/violence especially for women

He drops the argument like nothing and apologizes.

Before hugging you, he would ask you permission

Now he is thinking of whoever made you afraid or flinch, that he'll make them pay

Salesman/Recruiter

His expression is like in the GIF above, shocked for a moment and realizes

He reassures and says to just forget about the argument

Tells you that he would never even think of hitting you. And if he ever does or makes you afraid in any way to leave him right away

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