#sorry if this wasn’t articulated very well

[angst-is-love-angst-is-life]

AU where Eddie was resurrected in Flashpoint for the headcanon game?

Oooooo

Westthallen. Need I say more?

Eddie being alive also means that Thawne has been kicking around since season 1 (but was still defeated in the finale) so that’s a possible source of conflict

The inevitable reveal that Eddie was dead before should be in the same episode (or around the same time) as the reveal that Dante died because of Flashpoint. And speaking of

The Dante situation is going to be even worse because it will feel like a life-for-a-life kind of thing. Eddie will feel super guilty about that but Cisco will only be mad at Barry. It’s really uncomfortable for all parties when the subject comes around.

Hmm. Not sure how well it would work but Savitar killing Eddie instead of Iris would be interesting.

[reidmotif]

Relax, I've Got You

Summary: Reader isn't the best at handling stress, and her roommate Spencer, notices. Luckily, he has quite a few salacious ideas on how he could make her feel better.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: friends-with-benefits situation, oral (f!recieving), fingering (f!recieving), mentions of anxiety/symptoms of anxiety.

Word Count: 2.7 k

Masterlist

You were never good at handling stress. 

You were well aware of this facet of your psyche– the way tensity would often wind around your limbs, snaking into the very depths of your bones until you were entirely drained and devoid of peace, a shell of the person you were accustomed to being. 

You had dealt with this complication on your own for the most part. You’d come home after a long day, and attempt to find yourself again through chamomile tea, lavender mists, and a warm blanket. 

Of course, there were days where even these measures could not suffice in curing your weariness. 

That’s where Spencer Reid came in. 

He’d only been your roommate at first. With the economy going as it was, it was simply more practical to find one, rather than renting alone. He’d responded to an ad you’d put up, and you accepted. The process was easy, honestly. You had no qualms about sharing your living space with another person, and even found the arrangement enjoyable at times. Spencer was well-mannered, never missed rent, and wasn’t even at home most of the time. When he was, he was quiet. Sweet. 

Through time, you found yourself becoming friends with the man. The conversation was light and easy, and in a rare turn of events, you started to open up to him. Even more surprisingly, he returned the favor, adding to the understanding that was fast growing between the two of you. It seemed only natural, since both of you were made naturally vulnerable by the circumstances of your situation. You’d come to your apartment, drop the mask of the day, and see that Spencer was already there, becoming an extension of the solace you found at home. Soon enough, the comfort of your couch was simply synonymous to him as well. 

It didn’t take long for Spencer to notice the anxieties that would plague you when a deadline came about, or when you simply fixated on an issue for too long. The way your bedroom light wouldn’t shut until 4 AM, or how you’d pace in the kitchen, so wired that your body denied you the rest you so desperately needed. He noticed the dark circles, the occasional irritability (followed by an apology, of course), the headaches, everything. Which is why he thought nothing of it to suggest some remedies for your troubles over breakfast one day. 

“Caffeine can actually increase stress, if you weren’t aware.” He says, eyeing your second cup of coffee that morning. “There’s actually a large amount of data that indicates you should limit caffeine intake, especially if you’re already anxious.” 

You narrow your eyes, furrowing your brows slightly. “Says who?” You retort, not quite ready to give up your chosen beverage. 

“The NIH, Penn State, the AMA-” 

“Okay, okay. Sorry. I got it.” You interrupt, knowing you’d started a losing battle the moment you’d questioned him.  “I’ll try to cut down on it.” 

He grins, satisfied with how the interaction had played out. You, on the other hand, started to drift farther away from your current setting. You swallow, putting down your coffee cup before rubbing your eyes, a soft sigh escaping you. 

“Something wrong?” Spencer asks, cautiously, his voice soft. 

You tsk, shaking your head and shrugging a bit at your own dilemma. “It's just.. I’m already so tired. I’m exhausted and the day’s barely begun.” You pause, unable to articulate just how fatigued you were.  “It’s like I can already feel the mid-afternoon headache I’m going to get later, and it hasn’t even started yet.” You hate the way you sound, longing for the day you could fully relax for even a fraction of a second. 

“You’d probably be a lot less tired if you slept a little more.” Spencer suggests, and you shoot him a death glare. 

“Don’t you think I know that?” You snap. “I’m trying. It’s not that easy. It’s just-” You groan, stopping yourself as the quick realization dawns on you that you’ve misdirected your frustrations. There’s a wave of shame rising up almost immediately, heating your cheeks up in regret. 

“I’m sorry, Spencer. Sorry. That’s unfair of me. I know you’re just looking out for me.” You murmur, taking a deep breath to calm your senses. 

“Hey, don’t worry.” He says, his voice low and compassionate. “I get it. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate right now.” 

You nod, closing your eyes as you continue to breathe. He continues to speak, his voice remaining warmhearted. 

“There are actually quite a few ways to alleviate stress. Some experts recommend meditation, exercise and yoga. I wouldn’t mind doing those with you, if you were interested.” He offers, as he continues to ramble, lost in his own explanation in the hopes of being of service to you. “Some experts even name sex as a useful stress reliever, due to the endorphins and oxytocin released after completion.” 

You give a fruitless laugh. “Jesus, I wish. I don’t have the time to try and find someone willing to do that for me.” 

Spencer goes quiet, and you finally open your eyes. You’re met with his stare, trained on your form, a thoughtful expression on his face. 

“What?” You ask, upon returning his gaze. 

He clears his throat, shaking his head, as if he was ridding himself of a passing thought. “Nothing. Sorry. I’m sorry. I hope you do find something that works for you though. I hate seeing you like this.” 

You soften at his concern. “Thanks, Spencer.” You say, the affection in your voice unmistakable. “Maybe I’ll end up taking on.. Yoga? That seems doable, right?” 

He smiles. “Yoga. Right.” 

The days pass on, until you find yourself in a similar scenario you’ve been in one too many times. You’re pacing the kitchen, a small clock reading that it was currently 2 AM. You couldn’t even really decipher the source of tonight’s anxiety– all you know is you feel it, and you feel it deeply. 

That’s when a voice breaks through the darkness, halting your movements altogether. 

“Hey, are you alright?” Spencer’s soft, slightly deeper voice. 

“Oh, yeah.” You call out, despite the growing tightness in your chest. “I’m fine. You can go back to sleep. Sorry for waking you.” 

He shakes his head, scratching his head as he makes his way towards you. “It’s nothing.” He reassures. “I needed to pee anyway. What’s going on with you?” He inquires, gently. 

You rub at your chest, biting your lip. “The usual.” 

“Work?” He asks, softly. 

You purse your lips. “I’m not even sure at this point. Just really anxious.” 

His expression softens. A beat of silence passes between the two of you. 

“I’m- um. I’m willing to help.” He stammers out, suddenly seeming much more nervous than he was a moment ago. 

You give a dejected smile. “That’s sweet, Spencer, but I dunno. I think I have to deal with this on my own.” 

“No, I mean. I can help. I’m willing to help. To do that for you. I’m your friend. I want to help.” He restates, his voice a little urgent. 

“Willing to do what?” You ask, wholly confused with where he was going with this. 

He takes a breath. “Sex. Or, an orgasm, at least. You said no one you knew would be willing to help you like that. I am. If you want.” He blurts out. 

You stand there, momentarily shocked into silence. You’re suddenly able to recall the conversation you’d had, just a few days prior, and realize what he was trying to say.  Here you were, in your kitchen, with your friend- your roommate, and he was selflessly offering himself to you. For sex. For de-stressing sex.  He sounded so earnest, despite the obvious lewdness of his offer, and the juxtaposition made your head spin. 

“I..” You start, your voice caught in your throat. 

“You don’t have to feel compelled to say yes. I’m just offering. I want to help you.” He interjects, his voice still carrying that unselfishness you’d known from the very beginning. 

“I.. no. I mean, yes. I want to say yes.” You find yourself admitting after a moment. “But.. are you sure? It’s.. I mean, it’s sex, Spencer.” You whisper. 

“I’m aware.” He says, matching your softer tone. “I’m okay with that. Are you?” 

You take a breath. Looking up at him, you take in his slightly tousled hair illuminated by the soft moonlight that drifted in through your apartment windows. His white sleep shirt was crumpled, and even in the darkness that enveloped you, you could decipher the kindness in his eyes, his mere presence bringing a shade of ease into you as you spoke to him. 

“Yes.” You murmur out, the words flowing out with no hesitation. “I’m okay with that.” 

“Can I kiss you?” He says, gently, and your nod of affirmation is almost immediate. 

He steps closer and cups your cheek, before pressing his lips against yours gently. It’s a sweeter kiss, something that, despite never saying out loud, you would have expected from him. His mouth moves languidly against yours, before pulling away, slightly out of breath. 

“Kissing actually helps to reduce cortisol.” He murmurs. “It indirectly lowers stress as a result. Is it working?” 

And true to his words, you realized that the tightness in your chest had faded somewhat, no longer blaring with the intensity you had just felt a few minutes prior. An entirely new feeling settled within you- an ache, a need for this man and what he brought to you. 

“Yeah. It’s working.” You mumble out. 

As if he could read your mind, Spencer gently takes your hand. “Let’s move to the couch, yeah?” He murmurs, already leading you to his spot of preference. 

He gently guides you to sit on the couch, quickly finding your lips once again to exchange some soft kisses along the way. His hands drift up and down your back, fingertips light and tender. His every touch speaks to something more, to an unspoken dedication that you’d never felt before until this moment.

To something that maybe extended beyond the original purpose of your rendezvous. “Is this alright?” He asks, his tone hushed and reverent. 

You nod, almost in a trance. He was so gentle, so reassuring. He was exactly what you needed. 

His lips find yours again and you respond eagerly, letting your hands tangle into the mess of brown hair that sat atop his head. He let out a small groan as your fingers slightly tugged on the strands, sending a thrill through you. 

He starts to trail the kisses down your neck, seeking out more sensitive spots that could bring you into a further state of rest and repose.  Everything about you spurred him on, it seemed. He paid attention to every noise, every movement– his ultimate goal seeming to hinge on your pleasure throughout this. 

Of course, you respond accordingly to the dedication, a soft gasp or whimper escaping you when he would mouth at the perfect spot, which would only cause him to increase his actions tenfold, leading to even more response on your end. 

The perfect feedback loop driving you to pliancy and ecstasy all at once.

His lips begin to drift down, and you realize he’s settling in between your legs now, hands on the waistband of your sleep clothes, urging you to lie down completely, which you do. 

“Gonna take these off now.” He whispers, looking up at you between your legs. 

“Please.” You respond, waiting with bated breath. 

He manages to pull down the last barrier between you two, before being met with the mess he’d created. His lips parted as his fingers trailed lightly over your wet slit, your arousal evident on his finger as he marveled on the effect he could have on you. 

“Jesus, you’re beautiful.” He whispers, as if his eyes are set upon something precious, something worthy of worship. And in a way, isn’t that exactly what he’d set out to do the moment he’d placed his face between your thighs? 

He loops his arms around your thighs, before slowly allowing his tongue to dart out, delicately, tracing the wetness of your pussy. A moan slips out of you, low and needy, and that’s all the confirmation he needs before he’s diving in, devouring your cunt like a man starved. 

“Spencer.” You gasp out. You say his name like prayer, like he is god-given, because in this moment, he is. 

His tongue traces your clit in circles, before directly placing his lips over the swollen bud, applying some light suction. The tenderness in the action, the way his eyes flit upto yours, watching your gaze for the utmost reassurance that he was doing right by you, only hurdle you closer and closer to your pleasurable end. 

It’s almost as if you’re floating, your back arching as his face stubbornly stays buried in your cunt, lapping at your wetness insistently. He wants your release just as bad as you do, and it’s clear he’ll do anything for the sweetness that comes with you falling apart in his arms. 

“Oh god.” You moan out- how is it possible to feel so airy, and yet so present all at once? To feel every movement of Spencer’s warm, wet tongue lavishing your clit, and still be somewhere else entirely- a new height of pleasure you had sorely needed all along. 

One of his hands leaves the iron-grip it had your thighs in, letting his fingers drift towards your entrance. He slips the digits in, slowly pumping into you, only adding to the overwhelming rapture you found yourself in. Your eyes shoot open, and you find yourself writhing against him. 

“Spencer- oh god. Please, please.” You babble out, legs starting to tense with the beginnings of your orgasm. 

He only pulls away enough to murmur softly. “That’s it.” His fingers continue their steady pace into you, his grip on your thigh keeping you planted to the mattress. “I got you, love. Come for me.”

With nothing else to say, he resumes eating you out, and the combination of his fingers and mouth finally barrels you towards your orgasm, shuddering as it rips through you, as your every sense is clouded- with this, with him. 

It’s only until you’ve ridden out the entirety of your orgasm that he pulls away. Sitting upright, he leans forward to caress your jaw, taking in the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the flushed appearance your face had taken on in the throes of gratification. 

“Feeling better?” He asks, softly. 

“Entirely.” You whisper back, almost in awe. Not only at how well it worked, but how adoringly he stared at you, it being enough to stop your heart in your chest. Did he always look like this? How did you never notice? 

“Can I return the favor?” You implore, already beginning to get up, but Spencer pushes you back down lightly, shaking his head. 

“You’re tired.” He says, as if his word was fact, despite these being your feelings that were being spoken about. “Right now, the oxytocin coursing through your body is priming you perfectly for sleep, and God knows you need it.” He chuckles out.

You realize that he’s right, and for the first time, you feel the fatigue that comes naturally with sleep, as opposed to the restless nights you’d been dealing with. You still feel disappointed though, feeling a sting of rejection as you’re unable to touch him back. Still, your tiredness is undeniable, and so you nod. 

He gets up, finding a blanket to lay on top of you, before kneeling beside your face. He looks at you with subtle veneration, before letting his lips brush against your forehead. 

“I’ll take you up on your offer tomorrow, though, if that’s alright.” He murmurs. “When you’re rested.” 

Your smile is immediate. “Deal.” You whisper out. 

He looks at you for another beat, before letting his knuckles brush against your cheek, slowly retreating to his bedroom, as to let you get the rest you so desperately needed. 

You close your eyes, amazed by the tranquility that came with Spencer. How simple intimacy came with him, as if that’s how it should’ve been all along. 

You know you’ll ponder on this fact in greater detail later on, but for now, you relished in serenity of the afterglow. 

“Spencer Reid.” You think. “What divine comfort you are.” 

HOOOLY SHIT. how long has it been since i uploaded? a long time? i think. hahahaha. in between traveling, [redacted life updates], and even more, i just wasn't very inspired to write. i hope this speaks to some of you, and i hope it was enjoyable to read. as usual, any likes, comments, reblogs are so so so deeply appreciated. feedback as well! thank you so so so much for reading regardless, i am eternally grateful for any and all support <3 (oh also haha. this was written for @imagining-in-the-margins friends with benefits challenge! check it out.)

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Yandere Pyramid Headcanons

Warnings: Possessive Behaviour, Unhealthy Behaviour, Pyramid also exists in the version of Silent Hill before the Church Bell Rings, Mention of Physical Attack on Reader, No Pronouns used for Reader Except ‘You’.

Possessive ahh monster man.

Keeps you in a safe, isolated location far from the epicentre of the town so that the only monster you’re at risk of is him.

Scary dog privileges :>

Does anything and everything you ask him to, no matter how trivial the task. Unless you ask him to let you go outside.

Even if the other creatures aren’t wandering around and prowling the streets at that moment, he refuses to let you out.

Unless you give him the puppy dog eyes, which, to his absolute confusion, he found himself unable to resist.

But only once.

You used Pyramid’s weakness for cuteness against him and, when he heard a sound in the distance – the all-too familiar ringing of church bells – and turned to face the origin, you took your chance to escape.

You knew the monsters would come as the world around you peeled, revealing a hellish, rust-ridden, infested reality which, in your terror-stricken state, you didn’t think you’d be around long enough to be at risk of.

Of course, you were cornered.

Of course, just as you were about to become a commemorative name and face on a t-shirt at the hands of a monstrosity, Pyramid Head stepped in and wiped that jittering, straight-jacketed bastard off every map there was, physical and spectral.

Much like the very day he met you. Took you (for what purpose, you still do not know).

He’s never let you out of his sight since.

Keeps you by his side when he’s on a supply run since he can’t trust you to remain in the safety of whatever building he’s fortified.

You might not know it, given his involuntarily stoicism, but Pyramid Head is constantly watching you.

Sure, you may get the feeling you’re being watched, but in a town like Silent Hill, that’s practically a birthright.

And besides, Pyramid doesn’t have any eyes…you think ? So how can he possibly be watching you ?

If you try to chance your arm and run away, he uses his knife as a deterrent.

Slams it down right where you’d be if you had been a second quicker.

He’d never hit you. Not intentionally.

His strength and eternity of wielding the blade makes it as easy to control it as if it were his arm, or an extra limb.

But you don’t need to know that.

He’s lowkey a sucker for physical contact btw.

Once, he found you standing closer to him than usual when the day grew particularly cold.

He wasn’t sure what you were doing at first until you flat-out muttered about “How frigid” it was.

Clouds seemed to form before your face, a human anomaly Pyramid hadn't witnessed this close before. If ever.

This man has no clue how to help you, so he just kind of watched as you gave him a wide-eyed look and, quivering, approaching him as if he were a feral dog (why did you look so scared of him…?), leaned against his side.

He shifted, jumped, stepped back.

What was this feeling ?

His heart spiked, his skin prickled.

Alarmed, you sprang back, and he couldn’t articulate the response to tell you to stay, come back, I’m sorry.

When the two of you finally resumed your journey to nowhere, he walked a little closer to you, inching nearer every few minutes until his hand brushed your side.

And you didn’t pull away :> !

Eventually, when you grew tired, you settled in a decrepit little room that, much like the rest of the town, looked as if it would fall apart if you so much as gave it a mean look.

In a rare act of humanity, Pyramid sat beside you.

And he damn near jumped out of his skin (again) when, unprovoked, you leaned against him.

He made sure not to spook you. Not again.

He couldn’t handle that wounded stare you’d given him earlier. It made him feel…weak. Vulnerable. Human.

And he did not enjoy it.

Well, that's what he thought at first. Before the warmth of something unidentifiable settled in his chest.

From then on, he started taking you out during the colder hours of the day just for the chance to have your skin brush against his.

And each time, that feeling, that tightness in his chest, would spark, set him alight with a fluttering sensation he'd never known before he found you.

Until you got sick. Then he toned it down a little.

But only because he couldn’t enjoy his solitary walks to where he knew medicine lay, too concerned with wondering why you were jerking, and why you sounded like you were roaring whenever you opened your mouth and your eyes squeezed shut, or why liquid would pour out of your nose.

Bless him, he doesn’t know what a cold – or sickness – is. But he does know that, when you lay on top of him and basically used him as your bed, curling up on his chest, he thought he’d seen light.

Real light.

Has resisted the urge to try and make you ill again just for that purpose.

Luckily, your random acts of affection – hand holding (or finger holding, since your entire hand could wrap around one of his fingers),  nuzzling, leaning on him, saying “Thank you” whenever he returned with the supplies – keeps his unhealthy tendencies at bay.

Well, most of them at least.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterpost

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

[mangoshorthand]

Hii I'm a real sucker for your smuts and I was wondering if you could do a five one where he walks in on reader riding their pillow and thinking about him while doing it (and they haven't had intercourse in a long while because of apocalypse stuff and all that) and the aftermath where you can do anything with it after but I'd really like it if five was being gentle to the reader :<

Sorry this is a long req I hope you write it and it's okay if you dont wanna, thankiee 🫶

Your welkiee! Hope you enjoy. 😊 Lucky Fucking Pillow | Five Hargreeves/ F Reader 3k words, Rated E

It had been four weeks: four fearful, lonely, miserable weeks. You felt stupid, irritated with him. You hated the fact you were waiting at home for him like the sweetheart of a world war two vet, living on the letters he sent from the front lines. 

You held it together until just before he left, duffel bag over his shoulder.

“The situation’s dangerous; unpredictable. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

On the floors below you, you could hear a bustle of activity as his siblings made similar preparations to leave.

“Why is this your responsibility?”

He looked at you, disbelievingly, the hand not supporting the bag went directly into his pocket.

“This is the world. Am I supposed to sit at home and wait to be subsumed by another apocalypse?”

You shook your head, bringing your knees up to your chest, not able to articulate what you were feeling.

“Let me come with you then.”

He let out an exasperated sigh, picked up the last of his morning coffee and knocked it back, shaking his head. 

“I’m not having this discussion again. I’d want you beside me in anything else, but not in this. If anything happened to you, I’d never forgive myself. Your best chance of survival is staying well away.”

“What if you die? What am I supposed to do?”

From slight irritation, he softened further. Bending from the waist, he kissed your forehead.

“I love you, okay.”

He crossed to the door, but a strangled sob made him turn back. Your face was suddenly red, tear-streaked. When you spoke, the words tore themselves from a tight throat. 

“Don’t go!” 

He closed his eyes, hand still on the door handle. He let out a breath and dropped the duffel bag, turning back around, crossing the room in two strides and holding you close, your head against his chest.

“I have to, angel. I’m so sorry.”

Since then, your days had been spent scouring the horizon for impending doom and following the news incessantly for any hints of what was going on. Your nights had been spent sleepless, remembering Five’s caresses and trying to get your head around the fact that you and everyone else could die at any moment.

You at least knew he wasn’t dead. He got messages to you sporadically; short dispatches from the field. They appeared mostly via an ancient telegraph machine stowed in Reginald’s old office. The most recent of these hadn’t been very encouraging:

We’ve got a plan, but it’s tenuous. If it doesn’t work, we’ll really be fucked. If that’s the case, then I hope to see you on the other side, -F x

smut below cut

They were four sexless weeks too. You quickly discovered that it takes more than the threat of imminent death to crush the human capacity for horniness. Before that month, you would have thought it would be a deluge of cold water on your libido, but that was far from the case. 

On the contrary, knowing that time could be short, all you could think about was having Five in your arms again: running your hands all over his body, the feeling of his lips on yours and the sensations of his lovemaking. 

As you lay in bed, his phantom was a heavy, intoxicating presence. Your need for him was strong tonight. You rolled to look at his empty side of the bed and imagined his head on the pillow. His eyes (that fickle forest green that masqueraded as blue in some lights and brown in others), you imagined them shaded by his hair. You saw his raised eyebrow, his smile, soft and suggestive, with the dimple that only appeared on one side of his face, recessing two large freckles by his mouth.

You pulled his pillow to you and buried your face in it. It smelled of him. You inhaled it deeply: his aftershave, his antiperspirant, his shampoo, a hint of coffee and something more  indefinable: a more fundamental scent that was all him.

It was this last smell that made your stomach flip, that made you breathe in the scent of the pillow again. It awakened something primal in you: ripples from your center outwards; flutters down each of your limbs. 

Before you knew it, you were stripping off your panties and kneeling up in bed. One hand held his pillow to your face and the other held your own pillow between your legs. When you started to grind, it was him beneath you. In imagination, he was teasing you: not allowing you to get on his dick until you came from humping his leg.

It wasn’t enough friction, so you sped up your hips, snapping them back and forth desperately. There was a whisper of something, a tingle from your neglected pussy, so you chased it, sinking deeper into the fantasy and imagining his hands squeezing your hips, guiding you as you rode him.

“Oh, Five,” you whispered, feeling your body begin to respond, wetness gathering between your labia, “Five, fuck.”

You threw your head back and closed your eyes.

“Hm,” said an approving voice from the doorway, “that lucky fucking pillow.”

You gave a violent start, dropped his pillow and turned around. There he was, framed in the open doorway. You gave a grateful, ecstatic cry.

“Five!” 

In nothing but your t-shirt, you were across the room in a leap and bound and throwing yourself against him, holding him to you with sudden, tight urgency.

He immediately stiffened and let out a sharp groan of pain. You loosened your grip

“Oh my god, what happened? You’re hurt! Are you okay? Is it over? Is everyone okay? Is the world okay?”

He was holding himself stiffly, but now his pain had faded, his face was amused. He leaned forward and kissed your lips. On your side, the kiss was desperate, joy-filled; on his, more passionate. His tongue flicked between your lips before he broke away.

“How about this? l answer each of your questions if, each time, you answer me one in return?” he said, smirking. 

“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” he said, smiling gently, “but that wasn’t a question.”

You were too happy to see him to have space to be irritated by this game.

“Fine. What happened to you?”

He moved as if to put his bag down on the chair. Seeing his wince, you took it off him and placed it there yourself.

“Thanks. It’s just a wound. There was an explosion. I was hit by a piece of flying steel.”

“Shit,” you whispered, looking down at his chest and the bandages that must be underneath his shirt, “oh my god, are you okay?”

“Hey,” he admonished, “it’s your turn to answer a question now. What were you doing when I came in?”

You looked at him with annoyance.

“You know what I was doing.”

“Yes,” he smirked, “I want to hear you describe it.”

“I was masturbating.”

“How were you masturbating?” he pushed.

“It’s my turn to ask a question now,” you said, using his own tactic against him, “How long will it take to heal? Are you seriously hurt?”

“That was two questions,” he said, stepping towards you, “but I’m feeling generous: I’m not seriously hurt. It’s a flesh wound. It’ll heal nicely.”

You looked at him with concern and he shook his head with a smile. 

“Now it’s my turn: what exactly were you thinking about when you were humping that pillow?”

“You,” you mumbled, “I missed you.”

“What exactly? You didn’t answer properly.”

You feel your face flush.

“I was thinking about fucking you. On top. Riding you.”

Five’s smirk grew, biting his lip and raising his eyebrows suggestively. You hurried on.

“Is the family okay?”

“All present and correct.” he said, moving even closer to you and stroking your hip in gentle circles.

It was a long, long month without you. There was barely time to think, let alone have the privacy for any ‘self care’ sessions of his own. Now that it was all over, his dick was complaining rather vocally about this neglect; insisting that if it didn’t get inside something warm and tight within the next five minutes, it would be most seriously displeased with the rest of him. 

As if to punctuate the point, it was now requisitioning rather a lot of blood from his brain, leaving him rock hard and almost lightheaded with the rush. 

“You’re so horny for me, aren’t you? Humping your pillow like a dirty little girl?”

“Was that a question?”

“Yes.”

You sighed as his hand snaked around to your ass. He stroked one of your buttocks up and down slowly, palm cupping the curve of your skin.

“Then yes: I’m horny for you.”

“How horny?” he said, immediately, squeezing you gently.

“Did you save the world?”

“Are you wet for me?” he said, huskily.

The fingertips of his other hand came to rest on your thigh. His eyes, dark in the low light of the bedroom, captured yours and held them firmly, authoritatively.

“If you’re not going to answer my question, I’ll have to find out for myself.” 

You looked back at him and his lips twitched. Slowly, he walked his middle and index fingers between your legs and parted your labia. He let out a low ‘oh’ as he felt the sopping folds waiting for him.

A jolt twitched down the boner now pressing insistently against the crotch of his pants. 

“How about you ditch the pillow and have a piece of the real thing?”

His fingers slipped slickly up and down your slit and you nodded, trying not to let your knees go weak. Your hands came to the hem of your shirt, pulled it over your head and discarded it so that you were standing naked before him. 

As your breasts bounced free, his befuddled mind could only think how much he’d missed them. He bent forward eagerly to try and take a nipple into his mouth, but froze mid-stoop with a wince and harsh intake of breath.

“Ow. Shit.”

He straightened up slowly, stiffly and leaned against the door, experimentally stretching out his limbs.

“You okay?” you said, worried. 

“I’m fine.” he muttered, hand over his injury, “Got a bad case of hornybrain. Made me forget I was impaled by a steel bar for a hot second there.”

You winced in sympathy and rubbed his clothed stomach in circles. When the pain had abated and he was again looking at you with lust behind his eyes, you leaned in and whispered to him.

“Looks like you’re going to have to stay still and let me do all the work.”

His lips parted but no words came out, for once unable to think of anything cocky to say. You could see the glisten of saliva on his tongue. You smirked and lowered yourself so that you were kneeling in front of him.

He laid his head against the door and exhaled as you deftly freed him of his pants and let them fall to his ankles. He squeezed his eyes closed, thoroughly undone by the mere suggestion of being sucked. He was even hornier than he realized. 

He groaned in a strange mix of satisfaction and need as you licked him through his underwear, using one hand to pull the fabric taught around the thick five and a half inches imprinted there in harsh relief. The stretch and your saliva made the white material semi transparent and you felt a pleasant twist in your stomach as the hint of soft, flushed skin beneath. You lost yourself, aware of nothing but the perfect outline of his glans beneath your tongue and the heady, pheromonal smell of him. 

He made another tight, needy sound as you put your lips around his still-clothed head.

“Please.”

How could you refuse him? Pulling at the elastic and reaching in, you pulled him out to twitch in the open air. It looked painfully hard, as always curving slightly to your left but otherwise sticking straight out like an exclamation point to his arousal.

Slowly, still inhaling that intoxicating scent, you took him into your mouth, slowly sucking him. You hummed appreciatively at his solid, hot skin between your lips. You were in heaven there, happy to keep sucking him as long as he’d let you.

“You don’t know how much I need this,” he said, weakly, knees buckling as you built to a steady rhythm. You paid close attention to his head, enjoying the little pop it made as it left the tight seal of your lips.

He looked down at you with hazy eyes, watching the way your lips pouted as you slid your lips up his length. When you caught his eyes, the pupils suddenly widened and he immediately looked away, head snapping straight back to look up at the ceiling.

“I can’t look at you right now,” he breathed, by way of explanation, “You’re too perfect; I’ll come too fast.”

You flushed, glowing with his praise. Though Five was a loving partner, his compliments were usually hidden beneath layers of self-consciousness and sarcasm. Him saying this now was evidence of how overwhelmed he was: inhibitions swept away in the rush of reunion. 

Slowly, you withdrew and laid your head against his stomach so that his cock rested on your cheek. You looked up at him adoringly, simultaneously enjoying the intensity of his arousal and giving him time to calm down.

“I love you Five.”

“I love you too, baby.” he said, voice breathy and hoarse, “Now, please god, take me to bed and treat me like that pillow.”

You smiled, rose to your feet and led him to the bed, helping him out of the pants around his ankles. Standing by his side of the bed, you kissed his lips gently, enjoying the way his dick stabbed and pressed periodically at your thighs. When you broke apart, you looked into his eyes, at his soft look with his thick eyelashes shading his eyes. 

Aware of his injury, you supported him as he lay down, helping him to ease onto the mattress with the bare minimum of pain. His solid presence in your arms as he let you assist him was bliss.

Though you were being careful not to place any weight where it would hurt him, he pulled you into his arms. 

“Please,” he whispered, “I want you to fuck me. Ride me. Just use me to get off. Use me like a goddamn dildo. I don’t care.  I need you.”

You smirked at this.

“Who are you and what have you done with Five?”

“Please.”

More begging. You didn’t have it in you to tease him, not when you too were desperate to feel his body against yours, to feel him inside you, to mingle your sighs and your pleasure with his.

You slipped him inside you and gasped. The resumption of this perfect coupling alone told you just how much you needed it. You knew you missed it, but now he was inside you again, you realized that it made you whole. His small keen as he slid home was enough to send a fluttering shudder from your center outwards.

“Let me take care of you,” you whispered, leaning close to him.

He nodded, biting his lower lip and caressing your hips.

Slowly, you began to grind against him, rolling your hips with him inside you, moving on top of him just as you did the pillow. This time, it really was Five beneath you, his cock twitching inside you, hitting and charging that sweet spot inside you until it felt like you were buzzing with his electricity.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned, “Five!”

“I-don’t-deserve you,” he panted, “So perfect. Perfect. Beautiful girl…so goddamn sexy. I love you. I-fucking- Ah!”

He always got more talkative yet less coherent the closer he got. He was watching your swinging breasts, hanging a few inches above his face. You leaned forwards immediately, keen to give him what he couldn’t take for himself a few minutes before.

He took the hint eagerly, taking your nipple into his mouth and groaning along with you at the change of angle. He suckled enthusiastically, hungrily; hand leaving your hip to rub your breast with his palm. 

His groans now sent miniature, warm vibrations onto your nipple, creating a new center for charge to build upon. As it crackled down your limbs, stoking the heat in your stomach and groin, you moaned, wanting to ride him hard- ride him like a bike - but you were reluctant to let loose in case you hurt him. 

Instead, you rolled your hips upon him desperately. Judging by the sudden shout from him and the ache from your pussy, this motion was to both of your liking. You were on the edge now, teetering.

“Gonna come. Gonna come.” he whispered, urgently, removing his mouth from your titty with a wet sound.

He meant this to warn you but, instead, his desperate voice gave you the final push.

As you came, your pussy clenched, squeezing him suddenly. His eyes shot open and he all-but squealed at the unexpected stimulation. His hips surged upwards, the pain from his chest eclipsed for the moment by this maddening, raging orgasm. It felt like your pussy was milking it from him, pulling his rapid shots of come up into itself. 

At last, you came to a stop. 

“Is the world safe?” you asked, after a warm breathless minute or two.

“Yes,” he said weakly, “the world’s all okay.”

You carefully climbed off him, laid beside him and held him. There was the fresh smell of his shampoo and antiperspirant. The smell of home if ever there was one.  After a minute or two becoming heavier in your arms, he spoke again.

“Well, the world’s certainly all okay now.”

He stroked your stomach as if you were made of paper-thin glass, inclining his head towards yours as he spoke again.

"I meant what I said: you are perfect, you know."

Request masterlist >> HERE

NOTE:

I take Five requests, I'm fairly versatile in what I write (fluff, smut, angst, psychological character study- I'll try it all) but I will consider them on a case by case basis. See masterlist for request status and more.

[adonis-koo]

sweet nothing • 8

| in which you run into an old costumer |

↳ Description: being a guest at the Jeon Estate after a mishap of being kidnapped and dragged into your brothers affairs isn’t all that bad. Truth be told it brings you a lot closer to the mobster and owner of the estate Jeon Jungkook himself.

His two rules are simple, don’t cause trouble and don’t give him a hard time. Somehow you manage to constantly do both in the most endearing way despite being pregnant and waddling around most of the time.

Pairing: Jungkook/reader, ???/reader

↳ Genre: slice of life AU, mafia!AU, pregnancy, there’s like…a little bit of a plot but not a lot, future smut? maybe? it's very domestic!

Word count: 3k

Previous | Next

Note: just know that the only reason these updates take so long is because I keep writing plot based chapters and I really just wanna post fluff based chapters 😭

“Thank you for taking me out!” You grinned as you took a large sip of your hot chocolate, it was still definitely not cold enough for it yet but you didn’t care.

Something about hitting your third trimester had you wanting to nest like crazy, it had you going around the estate cleaning and getting guards to help move furniture around.

You really had no right to be doing it but nobody told you otherwise.

Jungkook had come back midday, surprisingly early, he had paused in the entry hall of his home locking eyes with the pregnant menace that had abruptly put herself at the forefront of his life once again.

It was then he realized you definitely needed to get out of the estate.

“If it keeps you from not moving all my stuff around,” He shrugged, leaning back in his seat, eyes flickering from his phone to you.

You frowned, “I’m sorry, I don’t even know what possessed me.” You sighed, “Well I do, they say third trimester can make you start nesting.”

“Nesting?”

You glared are the way he snorted as if not believing you, “It’s a fact, you can look it up.”

“The fuck is that even supposed to be? What are you, a bird?”

“It means you just get the innate urge to just…” you puffed your cheeks, ignoring that look he was giving you, “Clean and decorate and just…I don’t know I can’t describe it! Just wish I had my own place to do that with and prepare for the baby.”

Jungkook sighed, his eyes went from looking at you to dropping down to your stomach, it was round when you had first come to the estate, but it was evident six weeks had passed, “Then maybe it’s time we talk about a nursery.”

You paused, getting ready to take another drink from your cup but it never meets to your lips.

Jungkook sighed, “I know you don’t wanna talk about it, but finding your brother has quite literally lead me to dead ends I didn’t even think would exist. You’re almost thirty weeks pregnant, that’s less than three months.”

“Okay yeah I can do basic math, but it’s already been almost two months. Surely it won’t take another two months to find him,” You pressed your lips together nervously.

“Would it be so terrible if you gave birth in the estate? It’ll probably be a better experience than the hospital.” Jungkook commented, picking up his coffee as he took a sip.

It wasn’t that you were against giving birth in the estate, professional staff in the comforts of a bed? That was a luxury every woman could only dream of having, it was more the aftermath of it.

The idea of still living at the estate post pregnancy…it was a dangerous thought, it was too close to the life you had once wanted with Jungkook.

You just weren’t sure how to articulate that too him.

Jungkook finally raised a brow at you, noticing your lack of reply.

“I just…don’t want to get too comfortable at the estate.” You finally spoke carefully, “I don't think that's good for anybody involved.”

“I understand but I also don’t like being unprepared- in any aspect concerning me or my estate, and that includes you whether you want it or not.” Jungkook replied, “Just because a nursery is there doesn’t mean it’ll ever be used, it’ll just be there so first of all, you stop moving all my shit and you have a place to do your bird stuff-“

“Nesting.” You glared, lips quirking into a pout as your hands wrapped around your stomach.

Jungkook’s lips curved a little, “Bird stuff. And second, if it does turn out that your stay is extended, it’ll be ready.”

You still weren’t completely sold on the idea, if anything you felt like it would just feed into the delusion even further.

“Why hello there mama.” Another voice suddenly cut in, grabbing a chair from the empty table next to you both and plopping it on the side of your table.

Jungkook immediately straightened up, eyes glaring daggers that could definitely kill, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Yoongi!”

The man brushed his black hair from his eyes a quirky smirk on his face as he shrugged, “Uh I’m just stopping in to say hello to my favorite barista who got put on bed rest early.”

A smile twisted on your lips, you were familiar with his face, he had been a regular for almost two years, the realization however quickly hit that Jungkook was very acquainted with this man.

You felt flabbergasted for a moment, you couldn’t believe you never made the connection that the regular customer Yoongi was also Underboss business partner Yoongi.

“It’s nice to see you again Yoongi! I can't believe I didn’t recognize you as Jungkook’s partner…” You sheepishly smiled.

Jungkook clearly didn’t share the same sentiment, his nostrils flared and he looked ready to maul his partner.

“Nah probably for the best you didn’t realize. You as well, you look only a thousand times prettier, have that pregnancy glow about you.” Yoongi threw your a wink.

Jungkook wasn’t sure what made him more violent, the fact that you both were already well acquainted or Yoongi so casually flirting with you.

It was part of his personality but it still didn’t make any attention he or any other male gave you, any easier for Jungkook to witness.

“If you aren’t here for business, get the fuck away from our table.” Jungkook gritted his teeth, as if it took every fiber of his being to not right hook.

Yoongi didn’t seem phased, “Oh I was just in the area, been coming to Serendipity for a long while now, and then I suddenly see my favorite barista who’s been gone for two months, of course I have have to say hello.”

“Okay well you said hello, now go the fuck away.”

“Jungkook!” You said sternly, “Don’t be so stubborn, Yoongi can sit with us for a few minutes at least.”

His eyes were a raging fire as they burned into you, his chest puffing but he said no more as Yoongi observed you both, a smirk on his face as he leaned back in his chair.

“How are you enjoying the estate Y/n?”

You smiled tenderly, “The company makes it honestly, I don’t know what I’d do without Jungkook and Yeonjun.”

“Yeonjun?” Jungkook looked like he sucked on a sour lemon as he spat the name out.

“I still want my apartment back but I’ve made the most of the it. What about you? Why haven’t you come to visit if you knew where I was?” You asked, curious as to what the man had been up too.

Yoongi’s gaze flickered to Jungkook, “Well…let’s just say I was asked to not drop by unless it was absolutely necessary.”

“And it isn’t.” Jungkook gritted.

“Okay well first of all this doesn’t count cause we’re not at the estate, second of all you’re not the only one who has relations to Y/n, I mean have you ever had this woman’s chai? Or her baked cinnamon rolls? Talented hands right there.” Yoongi stretched out in his seat, that playful nature about him.

“Oh don’t flatter me.” You shooed his praise.

“No you deserve all the praise in the world, in fact you deserve-“

“We’re going.” Jungkook stood up from his seat, sick of this if he had to hear one more word come out of his stupid partners mouth.

“Jungkook!” You complained, but nevertheless took his hand when he offered it, “Please visit Yoongi, you’re conversation is always welcomed.”

Yoongi only smiled, sunk into his seat as he watched the tall broody figure practically drag you away, it made him laugh in amusement.

Yoongi by no means kept an eye on you the last two years for his own benefit, but he supposed somethings would always remain thankless.

He had accomplished what he wanted though, evidently no matter how much Jungkook talked- and he talked a lot, it was clear he had grown possessive over you in the last few months.

Yoongi shook his head in amusement, watching the viper leave the parking lot through the window, he was happy to see that old spark in his partner return.

“What was that about!” You complained, immediately dialing the heat down to sixty in the car.

“You shouldn’t be talking to him,” Jungkook grumbled, hands gripping the steer wheel as if he was trying to strangle it, “If you care about your baby’s safety you’ll make an active effort to not talk to him.”

“Hes been one of my regulars for like two years,” you complained, “How was I supposed to know he was your partner? I never even officially met him! What makes him anymore dangerous then you? Hm?”

Jungkook deflated, obviously not having a good reason, “The difference is I’m protecting you.”

“Oh so you’re saying he wouldn’t?”

“The point,” Jungkook gritted his teeth in annoyance, “Is don’t talk to him.”

You frowned as you twisted to fully look at Jungkook, was he…jealous?

“Are you mad that I’m paying attention to someone else?” You asked upfront, you could only be discreet about so many things.

“I’m not mad”.

“No you’re definitely mad.” You replied pointedly.

“I’m annoyed that my business partner is talking to me outside of business.” Jungkook replied.

“But he was talking to me, not you.” You crossed your arms.

“He was doing that on purpose.” Jungkook huffed.

It was silent for a long moment as you folded your hands into your lap.

Of course you didn’t have to point it out, but truthfully it felt too ridiculous to not? “Are you jealous?”

“No.”

There was another pause.

“Why would I be jealous?”

“You tell me,” you replied, a pout on your lips, “You always do this when someone talks to me, men specifically.”

“Do you actually want an honest answer?” Jungkook looked even more annoyed, even so much as throwing you a frosty glance before his eyes returned to the road.

You blinked before a troubled frown slowly curved on your lips, you could think of several ways he’d be honest and none of them you’d be able to fully believe.

“What I want,” you took a breath, “Is to be able to have a conversation without you looking like you’re shooting daggers out of your eyes.”

“I wasn’t shooting daggers out of my eyes.”

You puffed your cheeks, “Well you claim you don’t do a lot of things, that you do in fact, do.”

“How about we just stop talking.” Jungkook replied.

You pouted but spoke no more as you yawned.

“Do you wanna go home?”

You nodded with a small groan, “Yeah, I need to take a nap,” you nodded with another yawn.

Jungkook only nodded in return, eyes occasionally glancing at you, attempting to sleep in the car, when did his life start revolving around you this much?

[sunnylua]

loml | G. Satoru

angst, arranged marriage;

-

You had to excuse yourself from the table. The sight of a woman, who’s now the fiancee of the man who swore he’d give you the stars and the moon, intertwining her fingers with his. It made you want to throw up. Your heart clenched in the worst way as you stepped out of the café.

Such an idiot. He really thought it was a good idea for me to meet her.

You left for a few years and you came back to this. The love of your life marrying someone else.

He had to excuse himself too, following you outside. He gently tapped your shoulder once he reached you.

“Hey, is everything okay?” He asked, his signature smile on his lips, which immediately faded when he sensed something was off.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just needed some air.” You replied.

“You’re a terrible liar.” He leaned back on a wall next to you.

A dry chuckle escaped your lips. “I hate that you know me well.”

His expression continued worried. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?” He was still your best friend after all.

You sighed. “I don’t know, I just don’t feel very comfortable.” Uncomfortable was an understatement. You felt like your heat was being ripped out of your chest.

He nodded. “You don’t feel comfortable seeing us together.” You didn’t want to admit it to him, but he already knew.

“Can you blame me? How was I supposed to expect you were going to marry someone… and so suddenly.” You looked away from his eyes, you felt ashamed.

Satoru let out a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through his hair. "I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to surprise you like this. It's just..." He took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts and articulate what he wanted to say. He knew that there was no easy way to explain the situation.

“It's just... my clan. They basically forced me to marry her. They wanted someone from another powerful family to continue their bloodline. It's a stupid tradition, I know..."

He paused for a moment, his eyes searching your face for any sign of understanding. He wasn’t trying to make excuses, he just wanted you to understand the difficult position he was in.

You sighed. “I can’t even be mad at you…” As much as you wanted to blame him for it, you couldn’t. You knew it wasn’t his fault, or hers.

Satoru’s shoulders relaxed, relieved that you weren't angry at him. He took a step closer to you, his hand gently reaching out to touch your shoulder. He looked into your eyes, his expression filled with guilt. "I never wanted this, you know? I never wanted to marry someone I don’t even love...”

You took a deep breath, looking away from him. “You look good together, might be convenient.”

Satoru's jaw tightened as he clenched his fists at his sides. He knew deep down that what you said had some truth to it, but hearing it out loud made him feel a pang of frustration and anger. "Is that all you see it as? A convenient arrangement? Do you think I actually wanted this, that I'm happy to marry a woman I don't even love?"

“I know you don’t, but that’s what it is now.” You were saying things you didn’t mean, your logic fighting with your emotions.

Satoru's expression softened once again. He knew you were right, but hearing it from you stung nonetheless. He let out a defeated sigh and leaned against the wall. "Yeah... you're right. That's what it is now. A convenient arrangement that I'm forced into."

You looked at him, seeing his sad eyes made your heart ache. “I’m sorry this is happening…” You sighed.

Satoru shook his head, his eyes falling to the ground. He appreciated your sympathy, but it didn’t make the situation any easier to bear. “Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault. I’m the one who should be apologizing to you. I should have told you about this sooner..."

After a short silence you spoke. “Don’t invite me to the wedding.”

Your words hit Satoru like a punch to the gut. He flinched slightly, his mind spinning. He hadn't even considered the wedding. And now, hearing you refuse to attend... It hurt. A lot. "You... what?”

You press your lips, your eyes were getting teary “God, don’t even tell me the date or the place.”

As your eyes filled with tears, Satoru's expression turned pained. He hated seeing you like this, but he knew he was the one who caused it. He swallowed the lump in his throat and spoke quietly. "I... I won't tell you the date. But... Damn it, yn. Will I even see you again before that?"

“Would it make sense to?” Your tears finally ran down your cheeks.

Satoru's voice caught in his throat. He knew the answer to your question, but it didn’t make it any easier to accept. He took a deep breath, trying to keep his composure. "No... it probably wouldn’t make sense. But damn it, I don’t care. I want to see you."

You slightly shook your head. “It’s not fair… for me or for her.” Your voice cracked. You wanted to tell him that you loved him and you’d wait for him. To run away with you.

Satoru frowned at your words, his brows furrowing. "Since when were you so concerned about what's fair? Since when has life ever been fair to us?"

“You’re right. Nothing is fair.” Your voice became firm as you looked at him again.

Satoru took another step closer to you again. "Exactly. Life's not fair, and we've both been through our fair share of unfairness. But that doesn't mean… that doesn't mean we have to give up on the things we care about."

“So what will you do, huh? What, Satoru?” You were getting irritated, this whole situation wouldn’t have been happening if you didn’t leave for that stupid mission. “Are you going to ignore the fact that you’re getting married and meet me behind them all?”

Satoru let out a frustrated exhale, running a hand through his hair. He knew that what he was about to say next was wrong, but he couldn’t help himself. "Yes. That’s exactly what I want to do. I want to ignore that I’m getting married and continue seeing you. I don’t want to lose you."

You looked at him in the eyes that were now tearing up despite looking angry. “You know you can’t…”

Satoru’s heart sank as he watched the tears well up in your eyes. He knew you were right, but he couldn’t bring himself to accept it. "Damn it yn, I know! I know it’s stupid and selfish, but I can’t help it. I can’t bear the thought of losing you."

“I don’t want this either… but you’re losing me.”Those words escaped your lips hurting both the both of you. Those words resounded loudly as if they were the only words that could be heard.

Satoru’s heart squeezed in his chest as you said those words. He took a step back, his arms hanging limply at his sides. "You’re right, I did. But I don’t want to accept it. I don’t want to accept that I can’t see you anymore. That I can’t touch you.”

“It’s time to start facing it, Satoru.” You said quietly looking away.

“Easier said than done… how do you expect me to feel when I’m losing the woman I love the most in my life.” He said irritated.

“And how do you think I feel? Coming back after two years to see you hand in hand with the perfect woman?!” You almost cried saying this, feeling like you had a knife twisting in your chest.

Satoru took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He hated seeing you so upset, and it was killing him knowing that there was nothing he could do to change the situation. "I wish things could be different. I wish I could choose who I wanted to be with. But the clan…" He trailed off, his voice filled with bitterness.

“It’s always the clan…” You said under your breath. “There’s no more today say. You… you should go back inside. We’ve been here for so long.” You wiped your tears with the back of your hand.

Satoru looked conflicted. He didn’t want to go back, he wanted to spend more time with you, but he knew he didn’t have a choice. He reluctantly nodded, his expression resigned. "Yeah, you’re right. I should go back."

He looked at you, his eyes red and tear stained cheeks. “I’m sorry, yn. I really am…”

“I am too…”

The both of you parted ways. Walking back to your new lives without each other. It turned from calling the love of your life to loss of your life.

-

Lua’s note: damn

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Man 10

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

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

Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen

Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.

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

Gah. You hate the taste. It doesn’t get any better and it feels worse on your skin. There’s something unnatural about human biology. Should that be so slimy?  

You’re not a prude, not mentally, only experientially. The act itself, yeah, it’s kind of hot, but the finale. That’s too much. Not to mention, it wasn’t exactly mutual. None of this is. 

It’s weird, actually. The more you think of it, sat naked under a desk, in the mess of his excitement, you can’t help but analyse the situation you find yourself in. This man articulated a strategic destruction of your life; he messed with your rent, your bank, your job, and now you’re sitting her in his house, perched on your heels like an orphan begging for more gruel. 

You frown as you rub your chin again. Despite the single tissue he offered, you still felt the residue clinging to your skin. You need a shower. Or maybe some clothes. That would be nice. You scrunch up your nose and sneer. 

“What the hell is that face for?” Floyd—Lloyd snips and you look up to meet his gaze through the glass top of the desk, his keyboard blocking out all but one of his blue eyes. Hey, he has nice eyes for a meanie. You’d never tell him because he’s not a very good listener. 

“Nothing, I just...” you shrug and his eye flicks down to the jiggle of your chest. You cross your arms and tilt your head to the side, “can I go wash off or something?” 

“Why?” He challenges. 

Your lips part and a puff of air shoots out. Is he serious? 

“I... I’m not saying it’s your fault or anything but semen smells and I smell like semen, so going by a very basic formula--” 

“Oh my god, you don’t stop. Why can’t you just say anything straight out? Why’s it this nonsense?” He growls. 

“Fair enough, but I’m still hoping to see a sink or maybe a washcloth--” 

He rolls his eyes and closes them. He sits back and puts his hands to either side of his nose and exhales heavily. He clucks as he drops his arms and considers you as he leans against the leather cushioning. 

“You don’t make the rules. Stay.” 

He rolls back up to the desk and starts typing again. You look at the bottom of the sleek keyboard. He’s definitely an Apple guy, the iMac isn’t even the biggest giveaway. He just has that essence to him. He’s one of those guys who claims to be all about the best of everything but really he’s just buying into capitalism. He’s basic; mainstream. 

What is he even doing? Typing, clicking, scowling at the screen. Is he working? What on earth does he even do? Well, if you account for the mustache, the tacky clothes, and shoes without socks, you might assume he’s some sort of salesman. Used cars if you were to go by looks alone and yet his house would suggest more than that.  

He doesn’t look like a lawyer. He could be a tech bro, again, Apple everything. Still, the way he types doesn’t really seem savvy. He’s got the whole chicken peck down pat, jabbing each key with his index finger. So you’re at a loss. What the hell do rich people do? How do they even get rich? 

“Would you stop staring at me like that?” He stops again, another glare through the glass. 

You swallow and shake your head, shifting on your knees as you keep your arms across your chest. 

“Sir, Mr. Jansen--” 

“Hansen,” he grits dangerously. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hansen, sir, please, it’s cold in here, can I get a sweater or maybe you could turn off the air? This time of day, the rate must be ridiculous.” 

His lashes flutter and his forehead lines. His hand closes to a fist then opens. His chest rises and he squares his jaw. 

“You’re distracting me. I’m trying to work.” 

“So maybe I could go somewhere else. It’s a big house--” 

“My house,” he insists. 

“A very nice house,” you offer, “I mean I’m sitting down here, my knees are killing me, I’m shivering, I can’t sit still. You’re not gonna get anything done. I’m agreeing with you. One hundred percent. I’m annoying. A real nuisance so let the leash go a little bit. Promise, I won’t touch a thing--” 

He squints then his eyes flick up as he thinks. His lips thin and he huffs. He brings his fingertips together, elbows planted on the glass desk, and taps them as he hums. 

“You’re lucky you can make me cum,” he grumbles. 

“Ah, but sir, don’t give me all the credit. You’re a very good cummer. An expert, it seems.” 

His nose crinkles and his mouth falls open, for just a second. His cheek dimples and he shakes it away, “what on earth are you fucking on about?” 

“I’m just saying, sir, I don’t know much about the old sausage link but I’m comparing it to the hub--” 

“The hub?” 

“PornHub, I’m sure you know it.” 

He lets out cluck but says nothing else. 

“Anyway, you got what they would call girth,” you gesture with your hands. “Good job, although, maybe it’s more a genetic type thing. Not really something you did...” 

He stares at you for a moment the pushes his knees wide. He takes a breath and slides slightly forward in his chair. You are keenly aware of the twitch beneath his pants. Please, not again. Are their calories in cum? 

“You watch a lot of porn?” He asks, a genuine hint of interest in his voice. The furthest from spite you’ve heard from him. 

“Eh, not as much as some people, I'm sure. I get curious,” you say. “but within discretion. Never wanna go too far down the rabbit hole.” 

He taps his toe and gives a thoughtful angle of his chin, twining his fingers between each other, “what kinds?” 

“Mm, well, I dunno. Usually, I just click something on the front page that doesn’t look too wild. Like creampie is pretty standard, I guess. Doggystyle is usually all over, but the stepdaughter stuff, ick. Not for me, sir. No way.” 

He makes a clicking noise in his throat and slowly reclines in his chair, “you are way too honest for your own good.” 

“Maybe, I guess. In this situation though, what do I get from lying? Besides, I see the stache,” you shoot him with a fingergun then quickly holster it. “You definitely are trawling around. RedTube? Xvideos?” 

“You said you’re curious,” he ignores your question, “you don’t... do anything while you watch?” 

You feel a subtle tickle in your thighs. The casual air turns thick. You’re starting to get worked up. 

“Eh, well, you know... the fingers find a way,” you look away and giggle nervously. “I go on these women’s forums. They say you should know yourself best before you try with a partner. Obviously, I haven’t found my number two yet but I know my way around my captain's chair. I can get to warp speed.” 

His lips curve slowly as you look back to him and you gulp. You’ve said too much. Again. The very reason you fell head first into this predicament. 

“Sir, why are you looking at me like that?” You squeak. 

He chuckles and brushes his fingertips over his bristly mustache, “well, sweet lips, show me the way.” 

“Huh?” Your eyes round. 

“Show me around your captain's chair, as you so eloquently put it,” he demands and wiggles two fingers at you. 

[foreingersgod]

Hii can I request juju Watkins x reader where they go on a cute date in the town

Date Night . JW

pairing: juju watkins x reader

synopsis: juju takes you out for your birthday :)

A/N: i’m pretty sure juju is from LA (to my knowledge) so that’s where this is taking place, thus the beach and all of that. that’s what came to mind so i’m sorry if it’s not exactly what you meant by ‘downtown’ !

NOT PROOF READ

I know there's lots of love in your heart

But, who you gonna give it to?

a warm summer breeze nipped at your bare skin as you walked down the cracked sidewalk. your hand was intertwined with your girlfriends, her thumb rubbing at your knuckles soothingly. her body, one that towered over yours by several inches, bumped into you playfully while she guided you through town.

it was your birthday today and juju insisted that you go out and do something for your special day. before you had met her, you didn’t really care much for your birthday. being the center of attention was never your thing and making a whole celebration about yourself didn’t seem amusing to you. but then you started dating juju and you learned very quickly that that mindset was going to change.

you had been with her since both of yours’ freshman year of high school and every birthday since, she would put together a special day just for you. you could tell, just from how much she articulately planned your birthday, that she had so much love in her heart, and it was all for you.

I'm sure there's lots of guys that you see

But, I swear they're not as cool as me

she was everything you had wanted in someone; your best friend, the best girlfriend, she was all you needed. and you meant it, you had been together for 4 (going on 5) years now and she still managed to make you feel like the only girl in the world.

like tonight, for this particular birthday, she took you on a small date downtown. while it might not seem like anything remarkable, it meant more than anything to you.

downtown was were juju had asked you out on a date for the first time. when you guys went out on a friday night with your mutual friends group and she pulled you aside. the two of you stood underneath a single street light when she nervously played with her fingers, working up the courage to ask you. it was where you had your first date, too. she took you to the movies at the center of downtown, she knew it was one of your favorite things to do. and it was where you shared your very first kiss. when it was a brisk spring evening and she was driving you home, but she was too eager and pulled over off the side of the road. she took your face into her hands and leaned over the driver seat to kiss you right there and then.

it might sound silly to most people when you would say the bustle of downtown was your favorite place, but it was true. every important moment with your girl happened right in the center of it all.

Girl, I can take you where you wanna go, if you wanna ride

We could watch a movie, hit the beach, or just chill and get high

“where are we headed to now, hm?” you looked up at her, grinning from ear to ear. your hair movies slightly as another waft of wind rushed past you.

the sun was in the early stages of setting in the distance. past all the old and worn down shops and enormous buildings, the sky was illuminating a lovely shade of pinkish orange. it reflected perfectly on juju, her beautiful skin quite literally glowing. you didn’t want to look away from her, she looked absolutely exquisite as she turned her gaze down to you.

“well we just finished the movie so i thought,” she looked upwards to ponder “we could go to your favorite ice cream place and walk down to the beach?”

you nodded in acceptance, releasing her hand and joining arms instead. you wanted to be as close to her as possible.

your favorite ice cream shop wasn’t far from where you currently were, but it did give you some time to enjoy a small walk through town. as you continued your evening stroll, you watched anything that caught your eye. you pointed out cute articles of clothing through store windows, telling her she would look so cute in them. you’d look at the other cute couples enjoying the busy nature of downtown on a saturday because you loved to people watch. you’d laugh when juju cracked a joke, always the corniest ones because she knew they would make you fold over giggling. the ice cream shop was nearly forgotten as you were entranced in your girlfriend’s company.

soon enough it appeared around the corner of a brickwork building. it was small and built with tattered white boards, the inside shining a warm light and displaying a few strangling customers.

“what’re you gonna get this time, baby” she asked, arms folded and looking at todays flavors. juju, no matter how many times you came here, never knew what kind she wanted. you on the other hand, knew exactly what you were gonna order.

“i’m thinking cake batter, tonight” you pointed out to her “what about you?”

“how does cookies and cream sound?”

“good, but it’s your ice cream not mine” you chuckled.

“yea, but you always eat some of mine anyways” she smirked, side eyeing you jokingly.

you rolled your eyes back, cheeks heating up with a rosy blush. she knew you too well. it was true, you always managed to sneak bites of her ice cream after finishing yours first.

“yea ok whatever” you said as she kissed your cheek in a false attempt to apologize.

once the very polite employee finished scooping your ice cream, juju paid despite you trying to put your card into the reader. not only was she not about to let you pay on your birthday, but she’d never take you out somewhere without rightfully paying herself.

cones in hand, ice cream dripping down the sides, juju led you out of the parlor and back down the street. this time farther, heading down to the beach. you were almost skipping with excitement as you dragged her down the sidewalk.

And we can do whatever you wanna do

Ooh, oh, oh, oh

sand piled in between your bare toes, samoa warm sensation to the bottoms on your feet. you both kicked off your shoes and socks to abandon them on the concrete as you raced each other to the shoreline. your ice cream was half gone by the time you reached where the icy water met the dampened sand, sun now even lower than it was before. the two of you made yourselves comfortable on the sand, sitting side by side with your knees pulled up to your chests.

“how’s the cookies and cream?” you questioned, taking the last bite of your waffle cone.

“really good,” she took a small bite of hers “…you want to try it, don’t you?”

you licked your lip’s teasingly, leaning over to her to try it. she laughed, scolding you for taking too big of a bite (like you always did). but she didn’t care, she’d let you eat the whole thing before she’d get mad at you.

when the ice cream was finally finished and your hands were still faintly sticky, you scooted closer to juju, hips touching and her arm instinctively wrapping around your shoulders. you let your head fall against her shoulder and nuzzled into her collarbone. the sounds of the waves lulled you into a state of relaxation as you both sat in welcomed silence. it wasn’t often you got a spot like this all to yourselves so you enjoyed the quiet while you could.

you felt her lips press a kiss to the top of your head, her breath hot against your scalp. eyes fluttering closed in satisfaction, you hummed, sitting back up to steal a real one from her. your lips caught hers gently, sharing a sweet kiss. her hand found its way to your jaw to cradle it carefully as she pulled you in even deeper.

“d’you have a good birthday?” she exhaled, looking into your eyes deeply. she asked that every time and you answered just the just the same.

“i loved it” you beamed “the best day ever”

she ran her fingers through your hair suddenly, preventing the wind from dragging it into your face, “i’m glad, i love you so much, YN”

“i love you, too” you resumed your heads position on her shoulder, sighing constantly as you overlooked the perfect ending to the perfect day “so much”

Baby, I want some of your love

Your love (your love), your love

Baby (baby), can I have some of your love

Your love, your love

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

A/N: this was a little rushed but i hope you like it <3

[angelic-sturniolos111]

The Right Words 🧸

Chris begins to question his opinions on commitment and relationships after being close friends with you for months. Chris’s feelings for you have grown stronger, but he can’t quite articulate his affection for you. Instead of using his words he makes a romantic gesture to show you how he feels.

chris sturniolo x fem! reader

warnings: none, just chris being super shy and fluffy

author’s note: kinda inspired by stuff he’s said ab relationships and how “too much love” kinda scares/intimidates him

not proofread lmao

Chris’s POV:

Matt had invited Y/N to come hang at our house while we record our podcast episode for the week. It wasn’t unusual for Y/N to always be around, she was our friend, but I hadn’t opened up to my brothers about how I truly feel about her.

She moved to LA a few months back and we all met her at some influencer party, and she hit it off with us immediately. First, it started with the four of us going out to record content, going bowling, thrifting, things like that. Eventually, we all grew closer with her and she started hanging out at our house a lot more, and often sleeping over. The first time she had slept over was after Nick and Matt had already gone to bed, and since she didn’t want to wake them she slept in my room with me. After that night I guess my room became the unofficial-Y/N-sleepover room because she has always spelt in my room every time since.

I immediately found Y/N attractive when we met— she’s a very pretty girl. I’ve always had closer girl friends in my circle, and even if I think any of them are pretty, my feelings never go beyond that— it’s always platonic. I know part of that is because they just weren’t the right girl for me, but another part of me knows it’s because I don’t let myself sit in those feelings. I’m scared of commitment, relationships, things of that sort. Sure I’ve hooked up with a few girls in my day, but I’ve never had any serious romantic feelings for anyone.

Until Y/N.

That first night she slept in my room we stayed up for hours talking about everything from our favorite hockey teams to deeper emotional stuff. That became our routine when she would sleepover… always the last ones awake, and always having long in-depth conversations with one another. What started off as friendly, platonic feelings for her quickly changed after many nights spent late night talking.

As much as I loved our late night talks I honestly wanted more. I wanted early morning talks, afternoon talks, and to just be with her every second of every day. I wanted to hold her, spoil her, kiss her, and call her mine. I thought I would never feel this way about anyone before, but she makes me feel things I’ve never felt— she’s everything to me.

I recently came to the conclusion that keeping these feelings buried was starting to drive me insane, and I had to open up to someone about it.

Matt and I were currently getting in his car on the way to pick up Y/N. Before Matt put the car in drive, I spoke up;

“Hey, can I talk to you about something that’s been on my mind a lot lately? I just really need someone to talk to about it.” I say sheepishly. Matt’s eyes leave his phone to meet mine, and he instantly put his phone down giving me his full attention.

“Yeah bro of course. You can tell me anything. What’s up?” He says concerned because usually this is the other way around. Matt opening up to me about his issues. It was rare that I ever had anything on my end to discuss.

“Well it’s just,” I pause, hesitating if I should even continue. Matt puts a hand on my shoulder comforting me enough to move on.

“I have serious, and I mean serious feelings for Y/N.”

I’m not sure what I was expecting in response, but it wasn’t this…

He started laughing. LAUGHING. In my fucking face.

“Okay why are you laughing? Is something funny about any of this?” I say now a little pissed off that he wasn’t taking this seriously.

“Oh man, no no I’m sorry I’m not trying to be rude. It’s just… SO obvious.” He says and continues to laugh.

“WHAT?! IS IT REALLY?” I yell. Oh god, I hope Y/N doesn’t know and I’m not making a complete ass out of myself.

“Yes! Nick and I talk about it all the time. You may not realize it but you NEVER stop talking about her. “Y/N said this funny thing last night,” “Y/N really likes this movie,” “You know one time Y/N” Y/N Y/N Y/N. I swear every god damn sentence you utter her name leaves your mouth.” Matt mocks, but before I can interject he continues;

“Jesus not to mention the way you stare her down whenever she’s in the room. Nick and I are always laughing about it— like when he’s editing our videos and we can see that you looking at her constantly whenever she steps behind the camera? Or when we went to the beach that one time!? You saw Y/N in a bikini for the first time, and we saw you grab the towel to cover your lap because—”

“Okay OKAY! Alright, I get it! I’m not as good as hiding my feelings for her as I thought…” I cut him off before he can continue to blabber about it any more. Matt comes down from his laughing fit.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be mean. My point is is that we’ve never seen you like this with anyone before, and it’s really sweet.” Matt rests his hand on my arm reassuringly. “Well, we told her we were on our way to pick her up. If you want to I can text Nick and we can come up with some sort of excuse to leave so you guys can have some alone time together and maybe you’ll be able to talk with her about it?” He suggests.

“Yeah… it’s the talking that I’m scared of.” I look down and play with my hands in my lap. “That’s the problem. Like you said, I’ve never been like this with anyone before, and I don’t know how to put my feelings into words. If you haven’t noticed I’m not necessarily the most romantic person ever.” I say with a sigh.

Matt looks around the car seeing if anything might give him an idea. He sees the gummy worms in the center console from the last time we filmed a car video and picks them up to show me.

“Okay, candy? What about candy?” He says as if he just made some sort of scientific breakthrough.

“Kid, what the fuck are you talking about? Candy?” I laugh, completely confused.

“Yeah! We can swing by the store and you can get her her favorite candies and snacks, and you guys can watch a cute movie together or something? If you can’t tell her how you feel maybe you can show her through your actions.”

I thought about it for a second, and it honestly wasn’t a bad idea. I knew her favorite candy, snacks, movies, all that stuff. I know she loves comfy blankets for movie time. She also complains about not having a stuffed animal for her to cuddle when she sleeps over, and she usually steals one of Matt’s. All these thoughts came flooding into my head at once, and suddenly I had the best idea.

“Okay, I got it!. We’re going to need to stop at the store before we get her. You and Nick distract her when we get back to our place, and then find some excuse to leave. I have the perfect plan.” I say excitedly.

An enormous smile grows on Matt’s face. He clicks his seatbelt, and before he can back the car out of the driveway we see Nick striding out the door to the car. Matt rolls his window down.

“What the fuck are you two still doing in the driveway? I thought you were getting Y/N?” Nick says.

“Bro get in the car you’re coming with us we’ve gotta update you on Chris’s love affair!” Matt says jokingly making me laugh. Nick just rolls his eyes, and climbs in the backseat.

***

Y/N’s POV:

Chris had given me a call earlier to tell me that their manager, Laura, needed Nick and Matt for something at her house tonight so it would just be the two of us. She had apparently given them a call on their way out to pick me up so they were running late. Honestly, I was a little nervous that Chris and I would have the house to ourselves. I was always comfortable being alone with him in his room, and I’ve always hoping he’d take one of these nights to make a move. In my head I tried to convince myself he hasn’t made a move yet because his brothers were always home— worried they’d barge in and interrupt or something. I’ve had a HUGE crush on Chris, and I wasn’t super hopeful that he felt the same way because he’s never been a relationship type of guy. Plus, he always has girl friends, and I’m worried I probably just fall under the friend category in his eyes.

Finally, I see headlights shine through my front window and look to see Matt’s car in the driveway. I grab my purse and head out the door and open the car door to climb in the backseat. I was surprised to be met with Chris in the backseat, and Nick in the front with Matt.

“Fancy seeing you in the back. You’re never back here.” I say getting in my seat and clicking the seatbelt.

“Umm yeah, I— um.” Chris starts before Nick cuts him off.

“He was taking too long in the store so I hopped in the front.” I see Chris raise his eyebrows slightly at Nick, giving him a weird look.

“I didn’t know you guys went out. What were you getting?” I ask.

“Um just toiletries and stuff. Needed some, uh, shampoo.” Chris says shrugging his shoulders and breaking out eye contact. He seemed tense, but I brushed it off.

***

We pull into the driveway and I get out of the car making my way over to the trunk. The three boys get out and stand awkwardly behind the car with me.

“Did you want help bringing the stuff in?” I say and there was silence as the boys just awkwardly stared at each other, and then at me. “…From the store?” I continue.

“Oh no Chris’s got it. Matt and I wanna show you the updates we made to the podcast studio, come on!” Nick says grabbing my arm and leading me up the driveway to their front door leaving Chris behind to get stuff out of the trunk.

Matt, Nick, and I go inside and they immediately go upstairs to their studio, and I stop to hesitate at the bottom of the stairs.

“Should we wait for Chris?” I say. Matt turns around to look at me, and then shoots a glance to Nick.

“No he’s slow as fuck. Come on!” Nick yells. I laugh and make my way upstairs.

Matt and Nick start showing me decor and stuff around the studio. It honestly wasn’t anything that I haven’t already seen before, but I kept my mouth shut because it seemed very important for them to show me again. As they blabber on I see Chris run swiftly past the door, carrying a bunch of shopping bags, and going into his bedroom slamming the door. I became even more suspicious to his weird behavior.

Matt and Nick went on to me about the podcast episodes they were planning to film, but I was barely even listening since my thoughts were elsewhere. I’m snapped out of my daydreaming when Chris comes in and stands in the doorway.

“Okaaaay! You guys have to go to Laura’s, yeah?” Chris asks his brothers.

“Yes! Yes we do. Matt let’s get going!” Nick says to Matt and they eagerly start walking out of the room. Matt turns back and gives me a smile, “Have fun!” He says. Matt then gives Chris a pat on the shoulder before him and Nick make their way downstairs and out the door.

Why the hell were they all acting so weird?

I take a step towards Chris as he remains blocking the doorway.

“So, what do you wanna do?” I question, and a smirk creeps up on his face.

“I actually have a special movie night planned for us.” He says with that sweet smile of his I love so much.

“What makes it special?” I ask. He grabs my hand, making my breath hitch in my throat slightly at our touch. He leads me to his bedroom. Was this it? Was he making his move? I didn’t necessarily think he’d be so bold as to bed me right away, but I also wasn’t complaining. I thought to myself before he proves me wrong. He opens his bedroom door and leads me inside, and I smile big once I see what he’s done.

His bed is full of pillows from both his room and the spare bedroom, and they’re covered in a huge blanket. There’s another sherpa blanket on the bed with a cute teddy bear on my side where I usually sleep. On his nightstand is a bowl of popcorn, and bags of my favorite candies. He had turned his ceiling lights off and had fairy lights draped over his headboard illuminating the room. Also lighting the room was his TV which had one of my favorite Disney movies cued up ready to watch.

Chris steps back as I walk around the room taking it all on.

“Chris! This is so sweet!” I gawk as I jump into his bed and wrap myself in the softest blanket and he follows suit. We lay in his bed together in silence for a moment before he grabs the teddy bear and handing it to me with a smile. I take the bear from his hands and wrap it tight in my arms.

Chris’s POV:

“Chris, what’s all this for?” Y/N asks looking at me with her beautiful eyes.

I knew that she’d ask why I went all out. I had ran a couple scenarios of her possible questions in my head, and embarrassingly enough I may or may not have practiced what I was going to say with Nick in the car earlier…

“Well, it’s for you.” Duh? Chris I think that’s kinda obvious you dumb fuck. I don’t think any amount of practicing could’ve prepared me to face the prettiest, sweetest girl I’ve ever met in my life. I could feel my heart beating faster with each passing moment. She smiles, her eyes softening, and she scootches closer to me.

“You did all this for me? Why?” She asks sweetly. I knew she’d love the surprise, but also knew she’d be confused.

I really tried my best to prepare for this talk, but I was still so nervous. I didn’t know what to say.

I take a deep inhale before starting the conversation.

“I— I did this for you because I wanted to. Well I mean obviously I wanted to or else I wouldn’t have done this. What I mean is I want to show you what I think of you. Or, I mean, how I feel… and I— ugh.” I sigh and burry my face in my hands now completely embarrassed from my nervous rambling. “I don’t know how to use my words.” I mumble into my hands.

I feel a soft, gentle hand on mine pulling it slowly from my face, and I’m met with Y/N as her eyes lock on mine. When my hands are back down in my lap she reaches her hand up to gently cup my cheek, not breaking eye contact. Her eyes flicker from mine down to my lips, and back up to mine before speaking;

“Then don’t use your words…”

I bring my hand up to lay on top of hers cupping my cheek, and I lean in to her touch. I bring my other hand gently to the nape of her neck and pull her closer. Her face is mere inches away from mine. Our eyes breaking contact and moving to our lips. She slowly closes her eyes, and I pull her in fully and plant my lips on hers.

Her lips were soft. Sweet, even. They molded perfectly with mine as we kiss. The kiss is gentle and eager at the same time. I’ve only ever dreamed of this moment, and I can’t believe it’s finally happening.

We pull away from our kiss, our foreheads still touching. I open my eyes first to look at her, and when she opens hers a sweet smile creeps on her lips making me laugh softly.

“Hi.” I say in a whisper.

“Hi Chris.”

“I really like you, Y/N.”

“I really like you too.”

She pulls me in, this time with more force, and plants a passionate kiss on my lips.

We continue to kiss for a moment before I pull back.

“Will you be my girl?” I ask.

She smiles, nodding her head feverishly before bringing her lips back to mine and throwing her hands around my neck.

I’m in heaven.

**********

I honestly didn’t know how to end this and I’m kinda cringing but oh well.

Happy Thanksgiving y’all! 🦃

— Kay 🖤

[torscrawls]

A Ghost by Any Other Name ch.3

You can read the whole story on AO3!

If you prefer tumblr: Chapter 1 can be found here. Chapter 2 can be found here.

---

Danny was big. Like seriously big, with a tall frame and wide shoulders, but Tim didn’t think he had been for very long. He still moved his body as if he wasn’t quite used to the size of it yet. Maybe Tim should have been intimidated, but he was too used to big enemies and siblings to really take notice. 

No, what he had taken notice of was the prosthesis making up the other's left arm. A prosthesis that Tim would bet his whole hidden stash of coffee in the Batcave was homemade, a fact that had spurred him to start talking with the guy when he had spotted him sitting alone at lunch.

A prosthesis that currently lay on the table between Tim and Danny where they sat in an otherwise empty room usually used for construction and prototype testing.

Tim hovered with his hands over the arm as he looked up at Danny and asked for the third time, “Are you sure?”

Danny nodded, straightening the liner covering his now exposed upper arm. “Yeah, man. I’ve been doing this solo ever since— well, since I got it. If you could help me work out some kinks that would be great!”

Tim let his hands fall to the prosthesis, tilting it this way and that to get a better look at it as he took in the patchwork of metal. He didn't have any trouble believing that no one else had worked on it as it was clearly cobbled together from whatever Danny had been able to find. The soldering was stable, but looked patchy from where it had been stretched thin to cover what it needed to.

It was an impressive piece of machinery to have been made by one person, even more so from what were clearly scrap-pieces, but if Tim was being honest the most impressive thing was that it moved at all.

Considering its weight, its many functions, and the length at which Danny could use it without charge, there was no known source that could possibly power it. 

Danny had given him some vague explanation of batteries, sustainable energy, self-sufficiency, and a whole lot of nonsensical buzzwords. Tim might not be an expert in prosthetics, but even he knew that it wasn't possible to have batteries big enough to sustain it for a whole day, and small enough to keep the arm as lightweight as it was.

“So,” Tim said as he placed the arm back on the table. “What do you need help with?”

Danny looked up from where he was fiddling with the fingers of the prosthesis. “I can’t get the thumb to move but I'm thinking of adding something to make the articulation of the fingers better, so if you have any ideas about that I would love to hear it.” He perked up, “Oh! I also need to make it lighter, I think, so that I can keep it on for the whole day. It’s starting to become too heavy for me.” Danny gave a strained laugh. “Not getting any younger, you know?”

Tim didn't buy the excuse of age, Danny wasn't old by any means and he certainly was big enough to be able to support the weight, but he had noted that Danny didn't use the arm every day. Which meant that there was another reason for it. 

“Is this related to your… Illness?” Tim asked carefully.

Danny didn’t answer. Which in itself was answer enough.

“Can I ask… What it is?”

He really didn’t want to pry, but maybe Danny didn’t seek out treatment because he lacked the money for it. If so, Tim found that he wanted to help. “If it’s a question of money, then I can—”

“It’s not,” Danny cut him off. “Thanks, but I’m good.”

“Alright.” Tim dropped the subject as he reached for a small, closed hatch at the underside of the arm. “What’s this part? The power source, right?”

He had just managed to get it open an inch, peeking inside to see something glowing green when Danny snapped the lid shut with a harsh, “Don't touch that.”

Tim held up his hand in a gesture of surrender. “Sorry.”

Danny kept his eyes narrowed and fixed on Tim a second longer, but then relaxed. “No, I'm sorry. I just—It feels personal, okay?”

“Hey, no worries. I get it,” Tim assured him, trying to curb his own curiosity by reminding himself to feel grateful that Danny had trusted him enough to let him work on the arm to begin with. “Thanks for letting me take a look at it.”

“I know it’s not much,” Danny said self-consciously.

It was, but Tim understood what he meant; understood the frustration of being restricted by material things. Tim would love to see what Danny could do with better materials, and there were some benefits to being the son of the richest guy in town. 

“I might have some materials lying around, if you're interested. And I might have an idea about that thumb.”

Danny's whole face lit up.

Tim realized that they were actually starting to become friends. Wish meant that there was only one thing he could do in this situation.

——

Tim scanned the results of the background check he had just completed on Danny.

He had come up clean. Almost too clean. But he also came from a small city in the middle of nowhere; maybe there hadn’t been that many opportunities to get into trouble in Amity Park.

Tim had found no signs that Danny was in any way out to get them, which was great since Tim really didn’t have the time and energy to fight some new villain pretending to be his work-friend and coffee-buddy. His heart wouldn’t be able to take it.

He did trust in Wayne Enterprise’s HR-department (and security department’s) ability to screen new employees but since he had started to run into Danny more often he wanted to investigate himself. But to his surprise, those accidental meetings seemed to just be actually accidental. So even if Tim had been burned one too many times, Danny was starting to look like an actually nice guy. No matter his big size, slightly uncanny looks, and cobbled together technology. The villains can’t get all the cool people, Tim thought smugly and found that he was more relieved than he wanted to admit that Danny had come up clean.

“A new friend?” Dick asked with a raised eyebrow and an infuriating smirk as he leaned over the back of Tim’s chair to get a better look at the screen.

“A colleague,” Tim corrected distractedly as he scanned the documents.

Danny almost seemed too perfect; a friend factory-made to suit Tim.

He liked coffee, he was witty, not afraid to tease him even though Tim was his boss, quick-witted, and had a big interest in technology and inventions. A fact that was proven in his work as well as his prosthetic arm.

In truth, Tim had already started to sneak Danny some projects under the table. Not bat-classed project, but… Maybe some personal things he had under development and would like a second pair of eyes on. And Danny’s insights had proven to be invaluable. Tim looked over his shoulder at the still-smirking Dick. Danny was also non-judgmental and non-infuriating, in contrast to certain other people that should not be named.

As if hearing his thoughts, Dick laughed and nudged his shoulder. “This is a thorough check for a colleague.”

Tim averted his eyes. Maybe it had been longer than he thought since he made a normal friend.

Dick smiled. “I’m glad it came up clean. You could really need some more friends.” 

Dick ignored Tim’s outraged “Hey!” as he scanned over the document before pausing with a frown. “Amity Park? Where's that?”

“No idea.” Tim clicked away on the computer. “Apparently a small town that mostly makes its living as a tourist trap. And their draw is…” Tim trailed off as he digested the last word before exclaiming, “Seriously?!”

Dick leaned in. “What?”

“Ghosts. The whole town claims to be haunted by ghosts.”

“Alright? That's eccentric, but it's not that strange.”

“No, it's just…” Tim dragged a hand through his hair. “It's the second time lately that ghosts have come up.”

And he really didn't want to associate Danny with the two lunatics from a couple of months ago.

“Well, maybe it’s a sign that you should change careers and become a ghost hunter! Can you imagine? A superhero ghosthunter!” Dick laughed and punched him in his shoulder.

Tim snorted and swatted at him. They were really lucky that ghosts weren't real.

——

Of course, after foolishly tempting fate, ghosts stayed not real for far shorter than Tim would have preferred. It wasn’t even a month later when his entire worldview reoriented itself (and really, he should be used to that by now) as that belief died and didn’t come back to life. Which seemed to be a rarity all of a sudden.

At first, they hadn't realized what they were; seemingly harmless and, most unsettlingly, impossible to catch. The blobby apparition had fazed through any and all containment devices they had tried to capture them in, and more often than not they hadn't even been able to touch them. None of their sensors worked, just spouting nonsense readings that fluctuated wildly.

The blobs were hard to handle but thankfully they weren't very destructive since they mostly caused confusion and some accidents brought on by gawking bystanders.They weren’t really attacking anyone—yet, the cynical part of Tim’s mind added—but they were causing enough of a panic to be a problem.

Thankfully, Gothamites generally knew to keep well away from new and unknown possible threats.

The real problem was that they had no idea what they were dealing with and no idea on how to make it go away, but overall Gotham’s green and glowing new decor didn’t really take president over all the daily attacks from both villains and normal criminals.

Tim had foolishly (once again, damn it Tim) believed that was it.

And then he got a message on his communicator masquerading as a cellphone summoning him to the cave for a new type of threat. Tim straightened up from where he had been sprawled over Danny's sagging armchair. “I'm sorry, I have to go. Something came up.”

“Oh?” Danny looked up, eyes immediately jumping from the video game on the TV to Tim. “You okay?”

Tim waved him off, feeling a bit guilty at the clear worry on his friend's face. “Yeah, yeah, nothing bad. Just… A family thing.”

Danny grimaced and Tim guessed he'd had his fair share of family things. He let go of the controller in his right hand, instead grabbing at his prosthetic left, rubbing at it as if in pain.

Tim got to his feet. “It was nice hanging out though. Same time next week?”

Danny's grimace immediately turned into a smile and even though it looked genuine, there was something strained at the corners. “Sure! Good luck with the family.”

There was real fear there, barely visible under the happiness. Tim reluctantly discarded the observation, reminding himself that his friend wasn't a mystery for him to solve. “Thanks. Good luck with the boss without me.”

Danny laughed and shucked a pillow at him. “As if your so-called skills make any difference.”

Tim ducked the soft projectile with a smile before leaving, mind already focusing on what new threat could have come up for him to be called in on one of his few nights off.

Said threat turned out to be an intangible, periodically invisible, glowing, and floating villain. All of those characteristics wouldn’t necessarily lead Tim to the conclusion that he was facing off against a ghost—Gotham was filled with a lot of weird people with even weirder powers—but what sealed the deal was the fact that this new villain just wouldn’t shut up about being one. The ghost of boxes, to be more specific.

Tim would say that he had higher hopes for his own afterlife, but who was he to judge?

And, sure, if that had been the end of it then maybe the easiest answer would have been that they were facing off against a man with very specific interests and an unfortunate chemical accident in his recent past (it had happened before, more than once) but now they were staring down a new villain every other week. All of them proudly proclaiming themselves to be ghosts, and all of them freaking every sensor and scan the Bats threw at them the fuck out.

So ghosts. Were apparently a thing.

Tim wished he was more surprised than he was.

So far, most ghost attacks would stop seemingly by themselves. The ghost in question would be mid-rant and mid-destruction, only for them to suddenly pause, eyes wide. Every time this happened, the ghost’s focus was directed at the group of innocent civilians unwisely trying to catch a glimpse of the action that always accumulated during attacks that weren't too destructive. Their leading theory was that the ghosts were simply scared of the living.

Which was lucky, because the ghosts were both frighteningly strong as well as too many for comfort. Tim was desperately looking for more dependable ways of combating them, but so far he had come up with nothing.

It was hard to fight an enemy you couldn't touch and they weren't used to feeling so powerless.

Which also meant that the small and round creatures that shared all the characteristics of the bigger ghosts, except for the fact that they were shaped more like jelly than people, were also—more than likely—ghosts. It had taken them a frankly embarrassing amount of time to reach that conclusion. Yes, Tim was well aware that Bruce was a world-known detective and that he himself was a genius. No, neither of them had mentioned this slow deduction to anyone.

All of this led up to Tim stumbling into work on a Wednesday, definitely late and definitely operating on way too little sleep. They had all stayed up late yesterday (or maybe it was today? It was hard to even think) facing off against a ghost that claimed to be able to control technology. Okay, facing off might have been an exaggeration. The truth of the matter was that they had ran. The risk of an unknown villain, someone with largely unknown powers and unknown motivations, getting into their tech had been enough of a threat to warrant a tactical retreat.

Which had proven to be a good choice since not even half an hour later there was an attack on their servers. And then another. And another. All of them seemingly from the same source. They had taken readings and scanned everything five times over, but the source of the attack seemed to adapt and change and move in a way that was almost… conscious.

Tim would swear off coffee forever if it turned out not to be the ghost that claimed to be able to control technology. They had been able to stay on top of the attacks but only barely, which was very worrying considering their top-of the line and frankly absurdly paranoid firewalls and assorted protections, as well as the fact that they had, well, Tim on their side.

He promised to never mock Bruce and his paranoid precautions again. At least for a week.

Thankfully they managed to contain the possible (probable) ghost in one of the computers stored in the basement by continuously upgrading and changing their fire walls. But this thing was learning and adapting faster than they could keep up with. It was only a matter of time before it broke out.

Too bad they had no idea who to reach out to. Or even where to start looking for a person who specialized in supernatural possession of computers. The science of ghost hunting didn’t exactly amass reputable scientists and inventors, or if it did, they were probably laying low so as to not get lumped in together with their more… eccentric colleagues. Understandably.

Which meant that trying to find a reputable expert on ghosts was as impossible as grabbing a hold of the ghosts themselves. But Tim knew that he would never be lucky enough for an expert to just stumble into his life, so they kept on searching.

So. No sleep. A whole work-day in front of him. If only he didn't have to keep up appearances. 

Tim tried to keep a brave face and go about his normal duties in his day job and nightly activities, but the threat hung heavy over his head. As well as the lack of sleep, but that didn’t feel as heroic.

Thankfully, his tiredness seemed to act as a homing beacon for his new friend and before he even sat down at his lunch table, Danny was there with two extra-large coffees.

Tim accepted one of them with teary eyes. “You’re a life-saver.”

Danny laughed. “At least I can keep you from joining me.”

And Danny did look tired. He always did.

He was holding his own coffee in his shaking right hand. Apparently the little tweaks and upgrades they had made on the arm hadn’t been enough to make it as reliable as he had wanted, if Danny chose not to use it. Instead it was hanging at his side, looking a little less cobbled together with a new top-plate and Tim felt happy knowing that Danny had taken him up on using the materials.

Tim had started to be able to anticipate what kind of day it was going to be just from how Danny held himself and today didn’t seem like a good one. He was still unsure of what exactly was wrong with his friend, but he was scared to ask again and risk offending him. Their relationship was still too new.

So Tim sipped his coffee and simply said, “I appreciate you keeping me alive.”

“We don’t need any more ghosts,” Danny muttered under his breath and took a sip from his own coffee.

The comment made Tim’s exhausted brain suddenly remember that Danny came from a town known for being haunted. It was a slim chance—since it probably was a cheap way of luring in tourists—but maybe Danny had some insights that could help them with the newly appeared ghosts. And especially the one trapped in the computer in the basement.

The only problem being that Danny had never revealed where he was from and Tim couldn't very well admit to doing a background check on him. That would probably ruin the mood since he was fairly certain that wasn't normal behavior between friends. Admittedly his perspective on what was normal or not was pretty skewed; something his siblings never hesitated to point out to him. Which was true, but they really didn't have a leg to stand on when it came to being normal. 

Tim made sure he sounded casual as he tapped the logo on his coffee cup and asked, “Hey, do they have Crabby Coffee where you’re from?”

Danny paused, something suspicious in his eyes. Then he smiled and asked in an almost casual tone of voice, “What, you don't believe I'm a local?”

Tim snorted. “You asked me if Arkham was an arcade just last week. Besides, you don’t have the right accent.”

“Fair,” Danny allowed with a shrug and a grin that was only slightly strained at the edges.

“So...?”

“I’m from Amity Park,” Danny said in a way that indicated that he didn’t like the fact, mumbling the last words as he looked away from Tim

Tim pretended to be surprised. “Amity? Never heard of it. Is it known for anything special?” And then he almost winced at his own clumsy and obvious fishing for information. Bruce would be so disappointed if he saw this. Okay, maybe he was more sleep-deprived than he thought.

It was lucky that Danny seemed distracted by some sort of inner conflict as he shuffled from foot to foot, not meeting Tim's gaze. “Well… It's a tourist thing…”

“Oh? Like what?” And now Tim was interested why Danny seemed so hesitant to share. Not a mystery, Tim reminded himself.

Danny deflated, looking defeated. “It's ghosts.” Then he switched to the overly-enthusiastic way of speaking inherent to all slogans, clearly mimicking some commercial, “Come on down to America's most haunted town! Guaranteed to scare the ghost right out of you!” and then in a fast paced mutter, “The city of Amity Park is not liable to retrieve any ghosts that decide to leave their bodies during your visit.”

Score.

“That's so cool!” Tim didn't even have to fake his interest as he asked, “Was it really? Haunted?”

“Depends on who you ask,” Danny hedged.

Tim gestured at Danny with his coffee cup. “I'm asking you.”

Danny paused with a worried frown on his face that he quickly tried to hide, looking at Tim intently as if he tried to work something out. Then he shook his head and simply said, “No.”

And it was the first time Tim had detected a lie from his new friend. Which meant that he did know something. Tim felt himself get excited at the prospect of a challenge, a mystery, and this time it was connected to their current problems which meant that it was fair game. He finally had a lead and he refused to let it go.

Why would Danny lie about his town being haunted? Was he scared of being made fun of? Didn’t he think that Tim would believe him? Ghosts was a rather eccentric thing for your town to be known for, maybe he had been ridiculed before.

Or maybe, a more jaded part of his brain supplied, he had been threatened to not say anything. Maybe he was hiding something.

Maybe Tim would have to show him some things related to ghosts and see how he reacted sooner rather than later.

“You sure?”

“Yes. It's not haunted.”

“Ah, so it's just a tourist trap, then? To make money?” Tim asked, trying to keep the excited interest out of his voice, trying to keep the conversation casual.

Danny wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Yeah, but it's nothing special. Just like any small town, you know?”

“Some people always take it a bit more seriously, right? There's always some believers,” Tim fished for more information. In every tourist attraction that claimed to be the home of Bigfoot or Mothman there was always someone who actually believed in what they were selling.

And if they believed, maybe they had some real information. Maybe even ways of combating them.

“Yeah, sure. There's those that believe and even—” Danny paused, swallowed, and then said, with real anger in his voice, “even some nut jobs that claim to study ghosts.”

Some people were studying ghosts? Tim made a mental note to look into them.

Danny cleared his throat as if embarrassed by his outburst and asked, “Do you believe in ghosts?”

Tim allowed the subject-change, not willing to push it and risk Danny suspecting him. “Haven’t you seen all the new villains on the news? They look kinda ghostly, don’t they?”

“Most newspapers write about them as if they’re a new kind of meta-humans.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Tim shrugged. “But I don’t think ghosts would be much stranger.”

“You’re not scared?” Danny asked, a puzzled expression on his face.

“Of course!” Tim laughed. “But I don’t see why they would be more dangerous just because they’re dead. If anything, that only shows that they’ve already been killed once!”

Danny smiled at that and Tim took it as a win. His new friend might not feel comfortable opening up about everything just yet, but at least he could show that he’s open to talking about it when he was.

[mykoreanlove]

sexy brain wasn’t having it

3.25 am.

Once again Namjoon lay awake at night, anticipating the next disaster. His thoughts were racing, fueling the anxiety that was rooted deep in his heart.

„Joon“, you mumbled sleepily as you twisted in his arms.

You calling him caught him by surprise, a welcomed yet unnecessary surprise.

„Why are you awake, love?“, he whispered in his deep raspy voice.

You chuckled as you patted his buff chest. „Well Sherlock, my precious darling is awake so I can’t sleep either.“

Namjoon smiled widely as he placed a sweet kiss on your forehead.

„Sorry.“

„Is something on your mind?“

He sighed, not really knowing how to articulate his thoughts.

„Do you remember when I told you about my ex? The one that cheated on me?“

You nodded silently.

„Do you also remember the girl that shot daggers at you when I took you out to dinner two days ago?“

„The one with the crazy eyes?“

A sad laugh escaped his lips. „Yeah. Actually, same person.“

„No way“, you gasped, suddenly fully awake. „Why didn’t you tell me?“

„Honestly? She did some crazy things back then so I just wanted to forget her. I don’t want you to be near her. Ever.“

You tightened your grip around your boyfriend, deeply touched by his concern for you.

„You really care about me, huh?“

„Slightly“, he bickered back, making the both of you laugh.

„Are you afraid that she’s gonna do something to us?“

Namjoon closed his eyes and sighed deeply. „I expect her to.“

You drew circles on his chest, hoping this would make him calm down and drift off to sleep. It seemed like it worked, until it didn’t.

Frantic sounds alerted you both, someone was ringing the bell like crazy.

„Namjoon. Namjoon!! Open up, please.“

Her whines were slurred and chaotic. You felt him tense under your touch, unsure what to do.

„Just ignore her, Joonie. I’m sure she’s gonna leave in a minute.“

„Joon!! God damn it, Joon!!! Open the fucking door!“

Namjoon debated if he should get up, but he also feared hurting you. Suddenly, the door flung open revealing a very bad tempered Jungkook.

„Hyung, please. Go talk to her. I can’t sleep and I can’t keep listening to her begging for you. I beg you talk to that lunatic.“

You squeezed Namjoon‘s hand, encouraging him to go.

„I love you“, he whispered in your ear.

„I know“, you stuck out your tongue.

„Namjoon, fucking rap monster open this door no-„

Namjoon‘s ex swallowed her tongue as she actually succeeded with her plan - her ex was standing before her, ready to listen to her tantrum.

„Joon“, she tried hugging him but he pushed her away.

„You know what time it is?“

She nodded her head, slightly ashamed. „Joon, I am sorry but I need to talk to you. Breaking up was the worst idea we ever had.“

He rolled his eyes at her, trying to stay calm.

„Cheating on me was even dumber if you ask me.“

„I never“, she tried to defend herself but bit her tongue as she saw the hurt in his eyes.

„I’m sorry. What I did was wrong. It’s just, I couldn’t handle our love back then. You’re such a grown up and I.. I am a mess.“

Flashbacks of all the tantrums she created flashed his mind. She always argued with him, accusing him of the most disrespectful shit. Looking back he could simply laugh about this, wondering how the hell he kept up with her frantics for so long. He didn’t care about the past, nor her anymore. He only cared about you.

„I call you a cab“, he stated sternly.

„NO!“

Namjoon sighed in annoyance.

„What do you want from me? Why are you here? Do you honestly think I’d take you back? After all you put me through?“

„Why not? Because of that bitch?“, she spat out.

His nostrils flared up instantly. Namjoon would never resolve a conflict with violence, especially not with a female. He’d rather contort to hurting one emotionally.

„I don’t want you to talk about my girlfriend like that. Ever again. Understood?“

„That should be me! I’m supposed to be your girl, Joon. Don’t you remember how great we were?“

„Nah“, he replied dryly.

His ex scoffed, too many blows to her ego. „Oh please, I’ve seen her. Since when do you date someone so basic? She’s half of me anyways.“

Namjoon took out his phone and ordered a cab, making an end to this nonsense.

„What are you doing? Joon, listen to me! She’s not the one for you, can’t you see?“

He raised his left brow, holding back what he truly felt.

„She’s average. Basic. Boring. I think you should dump her. I think you should get back together with me. I think you and I should become Korea‘s hottest couple and live a beautiful life together. I think I am the love of your life!“

A real, heartfelt laugh left his lips. His ex‘ eyes widened in expectation, anticipating her victory over you.

Namjoon however disagreed.

„Thank you for telling me what you think. I however, don’t think about you. At all.“

He turned around and went inside, hoping to never end up in a situation like that ever again.

[waterlilyvioletfog]

Notes on Criston Cole in 2x02

I was fascinated by Criston Cole in this episode. We don’t really see much of him in ep. 1 so I really wasn’t sure what to do with him and his current choices. This episode we see him a TON and everything in it had me sitting up, eyes sparkling, stupid grin on my face like OH HO HO!! We’re doing good tv!!

More below cut.

1- Fabien Frankel’s Acting

So, last episode, many people noted how Criston generally seems completely blank, no expression, dead eyed. I think this episode confirmed for me that this is a conscious choice by Fabien Frankel, not a reflection of a bad actor or director— Jared Padalecki half-acting in 90% of his scenes for the last several seasons of Supernatural THIS IS NOT!! (Sorry, spn is one of my other natural habitats. The comparison is right there for me.)

There are two smaller moments where we see these really interesting bits of physical acting letting us in on Criston’s internal thoughts even while he’s got the dead face on— I think we should be thinking of this as his Kingsguard Face, roughly equivalent to the customer service smile, but for bodyguards— Criston doesn’t want anyone EVER to know what he’s thinking and feeling unless what those things are can be summed up as “bloodthirsty shark dog with knives pointed at you” (more on this later).

These two moments are first, when we see the servants clearing out the bedroom and Criston flinches away from the sight of Jaehaerys’s bloody mattress. It doesn’t look like a flinch in the way that, say, Emma D’Arcy’s flinch when the door slams closed behind Daemon after the fight does, but it’s an uncalculated movement away from something distressing nonetheless. The scene is basically just this— we see the room coming down, we see Criston, we see the mattress, we see the flinch, there’s like one line of dialogue, the scene ends. The scene has very little function except, one, to show us background minutiae and detail that bring the world and the moment to life, and two, to let us see Criston away from Alicent, Otto, Aegon, and Aemond. It’s a moment that lets us into Cole’s interiority, his guilt.

This guilt is articulated clearly later, when he says to Alicent that nothing can absolve him of what he has done. After Alicent closes the door on him, the camera pans back to Criston where we get the second piece of physical acting that fascinated me— Criston is shaking his head ever so slightly, as if trying to push away thoughts creeping in. This is the moment that really sealed for me the idea of Criston’s Kingsguard Face versus the actual interiority of the character as articulated by Frankel. Essentially, just because Criston’s busy not projecting anything doesn’t mean that Frankel isn’t trying to convey something to the audience in that moment. Criston’s dead eyes and stupid face are a front. There are three scenes where we see something other than this front, and I’d like to look at them more closely.

2- Promotion

We’ve all memed hard on this moment— the scene where Aegon fires Otto and says, “oh?? I need a strong hand??? Well!! Guess what!! I’m promoting— him!”

[camera focus shifts to show Criston Cole standing there like🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️]

(I cackled.)

As usual in any scene where Cole isn’t actively radiating malice, he’s mostly expressionless, serving in his capacity as bodyguard. However, if you look at his face, you can see that his expression isn’t actually “blank” so much as it is “poleaxed”— another thing which has been deservedly memed on. It’s still a minute expression, but it’s visibly different from his standard 🫥 face.

Here the significance of the expression serves a different purpose than in other scenes. Here, Criston’s obvious surprise and mild befuddlement function as a way to hammer home Aegon’s impulsivity and irresponsibility. Criston’s been thinking for the last 36 hours that he got a toddler killed by fucking the king’s mom, and now, after ZERO PRIOR DISCUSSION, has gotten his second insane promotion in like three months maximum.

He’s gone from Kingsguard No. 2 to Lord Commander to the fucking Hand of the King. Criston was fully prepared to be LC of the KG— at most, Criston is expecting to be a crucial lieutenant and battle commander in non-aerial combat for the Greens. Now, as Hand, he would get to decide which battles get fought where by who. Oh, and he has zero administrative skills, so jot that one down.

3- Punching Bag

I talked before about how the turn in Alicent and Criston’s relationship left me with mixed emotions. This scene— the ending scene, notably, which I respect as a denouement and to avoid breaking the flow of the Rryk Fight Plot— helped things fall into place for me.

Criston is waiting inside Alicent’s bedchamber, armor off. If I had the time and energy (or if anyone else has the time and energy…? 👀) I would love to do a post looking at Criston with him armored versus unarmored, because I think the pattern will show that, generally, when he is literally vulnerable he is usually also personally vulnerable.

But I digress— the bigger point I’m trying to make is that Criston, who just kind of got a toddler killed by fucking the king’s mom and also just got promoted over said queen’s dad for a position he’s not qualified for, has shown up wearing pajamas in her room. This man is expecting intimacy. He has prepared himself for it by removing his armor before she even enters the room. There can be no pretense for this. This is about as close to reclining naked, oiled up, on a bed of rose petals, as Criston Cole’s gonna get. Alicent initiates the scene by storming over and getting physical, but I think in his own way, he’s asking for it. Criston plays at passivity, but the point of the scene is to show that he’s very much in it with her.

The scene itself is without dialogue, no recriminations. I think Criston and Alicent have said all that can be said earlier— “What do you take me for?” “One who seeks absolution.” “There can be none for what I have done.”— and this is what’s left: guilt and pain, tangled with a desperation for human connection and someone who understands. Last episode, the commentary talked about how Criston functions as Alicent’s punching bag, and in this episode we see that both with her actually hitting him and I think also with the fact that they keep having sex, re-enacting the thing that they’re feeling guilty about. It’s a way to keep self-flagellating, keeping the wound open so they can atone for their sins by constantly feeling the guilt.

If it works for them, hey. Fair enough.

4- That Bitch

This is the scene that had me GIGGLING, eyes sparkling, stupid grin on my face, kicking my feet, THRILLED. Criston Cole, my dear friend, my evil bitch.

What many people who find themselves bewildered by the genuine Team Green fandom fail to recognize is that, apart from Team Black suffering a lot of iffy writing in s1 that made them uninteresting, most people who like Team Green like them BECAUSE they are not nice people (Helaena excepted 🙂‍↕️😌🙏💜). They are not uniform in this un-niceness, either— Alicent pontificates and pines and looks guilty, Otto calculates and schemes in a very Lawful Evil manner, Larys manipulates and schemes creepily, Aegon is taking notes from Theon Greyjoy, Aemond is an anime villain who just wants his mommy to love him and his brother to say sorry and also to bite people in half with his dragon and maybe get his uncle to fuck him idk we’ll get back to that, and Tyland is an Econ Major. There’s a looooot in there!

Criston is a violent person who for about 95% of his time currently cannot express any of the sheer hatred, rage, malignance, resentment, or pettiness that he is feeling, because he is Too Busy Doing His Fucking Job, where such emotions are a hindrance. Set Criston Cole in a battlefield melee, and he’s fucking set. Set Criston Cole in front of a door for six hours and he’s about ready to die.

In season 1, we saw how Criston found outlets for this— beating men to death, antagonizing the Strong boys in the yard, and getting into fights with Harwin. But now, he’s older, and now, he’s the Lord Commander (though soon!! Soon!!!!) and he can’t do any of that because everyone in King’s Landing is, for better or worse, functionally on Team Green and therefore un-fuck-with-able.

So what’s a man to do when he wants to lash out? The old classic— take it out on the underlings.

People have already said this, but the way the light comes into Criston Cole’s eyes when he’s guilt-tripping his brother-in-arms into either killing Criston’s ex or committing suicide by cop is genuinely incredible. Criston doesn’t even really think Arryk harbors any traitorous inclinations— he just has the excuse of it theoretically being a concern and theoretically having a built-in plan if he needs some justification. Aegon swallows the plan easily enough before Otto forces him to think about it.

Criston gets his co-worker killed and he looks ALIVE while he’s doing it.

It’s clear, too, that Criston lashing out like this at the other Kingsguard isn’t unusual. First, there’s how Arryk reacts to Criston initially entering the room like “oookay. Here we go. While I’m eating breakfast. This fucking guy.” which is telling in and of itself, but could have been a personal acting choice from Arryk’s actor. The bigger clue to this being a regular occurrence comes when Criston hits the table and IMMEDIATELY all the Kingsguard FLEE. THE. SCENE. They don’t exchange looks, they don’t say anything, they know that the best they can do is clear out before they get caught in the crossfire. They know, each and every one of them, exactly who Criston is and how he acts, and they are NOT about to get in the way of their evil boss when he’s on a rampage.

Criston, my guy, you are so awful and I love you. Congrats on getting your co-worker killed. It looked like fun.

Looking forward to the next few weeks when we start to see the Criston-Aegon Hand-King duo in action! I’m sure that everything will go SUPER smoothly and no one will get killed and everything will be fiiiiiinnneeee.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

hii! so happy for you and your 500! ^_^

i really loved how you wrote isagi! could i request something like listening to music and sharing earphones with him? and while he's commenting about the music reader told him to listen, reader finds herself staring at him. and maybe isagi's friends are secretly filming them bc of how cringey (lovingly) their relationship are HSHS feel free to ignore, thank youu!!

── READ IT AND WEEP!

Synopsis: You and your boyfriend listen to some music together, while an unlikely trio of strikers watches in disgust/fascination/apathy at the scene before them.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Isagi x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 1.8k

Content Warnings: fluffy to a corny extent tbh but it’s okay it’s cute, chigiri and bachira are dumbasses (affectionate), nagi is an unwilling accomplice, karasu converts nagi into a subway surfers kid offscreen

A/N: anonnnn i’m so glad to hear you liked pathways isagi!! and tysm for the congrats 💖 i hope you didn’t think i ignored this, i’m sorry it took me a bit to get to! i did incorporate your suggestion at the end hehe i love a good opportunity to write shenanigans…i wasn’t sure which characters to pick but for some reason the three i chose were calling to me HAHA they just felt like they would be the ones to do smth like that!!

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

“It reminds me of you,” you explained as Isagi made a face at the bright pink album cover of the song you were trying to convince him to listen to. “Stop trying to be all macho and cool! It’s not like your friends are around to judge you for listening to basic pop music instead of your normal stuff. Come on, I know you’ll like it.”

“Okay,” he said hesitantly. “Let me read the lyrics first.”

“What kind of spoiler is that? Just listen to the song!” you said.

“I can’t understand the lyrics if I just listen to the song, and you said that it reminds you of me, so I want to know what you mean by that,” he said.

“How about you read the lyrics afterwards?” you bargained. He shook his head resolutely.

“No, because then the listening experience won’t be as strong,” he said. Sighing, you looked up the song’s lyrics and handed him your phone, holding onto his bicep and reading over his shoulder as he scrolled through the singer’s downright over-the-top articulations about how much she loved her boyfriend.

“It doesn’t sound as crazy when she’s singing it,” you muttered when Isagi’s ears turned red.

“No, no, this is sweet,” he said, pretending to cough in an attempt to disguise his laughter. “I can’t believe you think so highly of me.”

“Of course I do,” you said. “You’re my one and only boyfriend. You’re not the only one who gets to be cheesy, you know. I do as well — though only sometimes. Certainly not anywhere near as often as you are.”

“Right, being cheesy is my role,” he said, his cheek resting against your hair as you slumped into him. “Okay, since this is your way of showing affection, and since the lyrics are so charming, I guess I should probably listen to it. Give me one of your earbuds.”

“Gross, you didn’t bring your own?” you teased even as you handed one over to him. He rolled his eyes, shoving it into his ear, kissing your forehead as he did so.

“Super gross, I know,” he said. “You can play it whenever you’re ready.”

The familiar notes of the intro played, but you had played the song a million times before, so you hardly paid attention. Instead, you focused on Isagi, the way he frowned slightly as the first verse began, like he was concentrating very hard. It was endearing, that he was putting so much effort into the simple task; you knew it would’ve been much easier for him to pretend to be interested so he could get it over with, but he had never been like that. If you asked him to do something, he would put a hundred percent into it, a hundred percent or sometimes more, just so that he could make you happy.

You noticed, idly at first and then on purpose, that his body was different, his face angular in a way that it hadn’t been when he had left for Blue Lock. It was these changes you took stock of as he sat in peace, eyes shut as he listened to the music. He looked less like a boy and closer to the man he would one day become. You wondered how much he would change the next time he left, if you would even recognize him when he came back again.

In the end, though, you concluded that no matter how he had grown and how he was yet to grow, he was still at his core your Isagi. Isagi who listened to your music and gave piggyback rides to your younger siblings. Isagi who stopped in convenience stores so he could buy snacks for the stray cats and helped you pick what clothes you should wear for any given event. Isagi who loved you and who you loved in return.

“It’s really good,” he said, startling you out of your daze. “I liked it more than I thought I would! She has a really good voice, and you’re right — it does all sound much more natural when she’s singing it.”

“Is it getting added to the playlist?” you said.

“Hm,” he said. “Maybe the one I listen to at home, but I don’t know what the others would say if I was on speaker duty during one of our workouts and that started blasting. I think Barou and Raichi would probably die.”

You didn’t know that much about either of those two, but from what little Isagi had told you, that sounded in character enough, so you nodded in agreement.

“Good enough for me. It’s okay, I’m not mad! See, I have different playlists for different occasions, too, so it only makes sense that you would as well,” you said.

“I’m glad you’re not upset. I really do like it, just so you know. Send me more songs like it when you get home — I want to make a playlist of ones that remind me of you,” he said. 

“Why, so you can play it during your group workouts and make your single teammates jealous?” you said, elbowing him in the side. He chuckled.

“Nah, that would be cruel. I think I’ll bring my own pair of headphones to Blue Lock — I’ve definitely scored enough goals that they’ll let me keep them at this point — and whenever I miss you, I’ll listen to it,” he said.

“Oh,” you said, swallowing, taken aback at the casual way he always said such romantic things. “Um, well, if you have your phone, you could also just text me…”

It was his turn to be taken aback. “Oh, right. I guess I could do that too…but if you’re asleep, then I’ll listen to it! We get up pretty early, you know, and I don’t want to wake you when you should be resting.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you said. “But let’s not talk about you leaving right now. For the moment, I’m glad you’re on break and can spend time with me.”

“Me, too,” he said. “I love you, Y/N. Just as much as that singer loves her boyfriend. Actually, more.”

“I love you, too,” you said. “More than that singer could ever love anyone. Way more.”

He exhaled through his nose, and then he wrapped his arm around your waist, scooting impossibly closer to you on the park bench the two of you were sharing and humming the melody of the song as you watched people walk by. 

“Nagi!” Chigiri hissed from where he, Bachira, and Nagi were hiding in a bush — or at least, they were trying to. It was somewhat difficult to hide the towering Nagi, who was also not exactly cooperating in their covert mission or participating in their attempt at masterful disguise. “Did you get it?”

“What?” Nagi said with a yawn, still holding his phone up, pointed towards where Isagi and his girlfriend — the girlfriend whose existence they had all been convinced was a myth or tall tale — were sitting together. “Get what? Why are we even here? You guys told me that we were leaving the bowling arena to get snacks.”

“Give me that!” Chigiri said, snatching the phone from Nagi, who whined in protest. Bachira hushed him, reaching up to pat him on the head, though that only made Nagi pout like a child. “What? Why is this open to Subway Surfers?”

“Oh, Karasu downloaded it on my phone while we were all in the arcade, and I’ve been playing it ever since,” Nagi explained. “It’s kind of fun. I’m trying to get the national high score.”

“You were supposed to be filming Isagi and The Girlfriend!” Bachira said, emphasizing the words ‘the girlfriend’ as if she was some kind of legendary being. “That’s why we brought you along! You’re always playing on your phone, so it wouldn’t be suspicious for you to have it out, but you were secretly supposed to be taking videos as blackmail, not actually playing on it!”

“You guys didn’t tell me that,” Nagi said. “You told me that we were all going to buy chips and fruit jellies together.”

“We literally told you,” Chigiri said, face-palming. “We said when we got here, ‘look, Nagi, that’s Isagi and his girlfriend. Take a video of them.’ Anyways, why else would we be standing in a bush so creepily if we weren’t doing reconnaissance?”

Nagi shrugged. “Dunno, maybe it’s a common hobby or something.”

Chigiri narrowed his eyes at him, unable to discern if he was being serious or not. He decided to err on the side of caution, given how genuinely strange most of his Blue Lock peers were. “It’s not.”

“Okay, you know what? It’s fine. They’re still there, so we can get some footage now!” Bachira said, taking Nagi’s phone from Chigiri and using it to take pictures of Isagi and his girlfriend as they curled up with one another on the park bench.

“Use your own phone,” Nagi said, though he didn’t try to take the device back by force — it would be a hassle, and he was pretty sure that Bachira would give it back soon.

True to form, Bachira sent the photos to a group chat he created with himself, Nagi, and Chigiri, and then he gave Nagi his phone back, earning him a quiet cheer as Nagi was finally able to return to Subway Surfers.

“These are perfect,” Chigiri said. Nagi, whose little avatar had just been caught by the policeman, scowled slightly.

“By the way, why do you guys think that these are worthy of being used as blackmail?” he said.

“Uh, because it’s embarrassing that Isagi of all people is so lovey-dovey?” Bachira said.

“Exactly,” Chigiri said.

“I think it’s more embarrassing that he has a girlfriend and no one else does,” Nagi said conversationally, without even looking up from the screen. Bachira and Chigiri exchanged horrified looks and then, in unison, whipped out their phones to delete the offending material, Chigiri also taking the liberty of doing the same on Nagi’s.

“I can’t believe we didn’t consider that angle,” Bachira said, shaking his head. “Nagi, man, you’re a lifesaver.”

Nagi grunted, obviously uninterested in Bachira’s praise. 

“This is why they call him the lazy genius,” Chigiri said in approval. “Listen, the three of us are the only ones who can confirm the existence of Isagi’s girlfriend. That means that the next time he brings her up, we have to double down on denying it. You guys in?”

“Yup, sounds like fun!” Bachira said. “Nagi?”

Nagi looked up at them. “Will you guys pay for my chips and fruit jellies like you said you would?”

Chigiri and Bachira glanced at one another before nodding, silently agreeing to split the bill. 

“Sure, we got it!” Bachira said.

“Just don’t expect anything on the same level as whatever Reo buys you. We’re not that rich!” Chigiri said. Nagi shrugged.

“Whatever,” he said. 

“Then it’s a deal!” Chigiri said.

“Deal!” Bachira said.

“Deal,” Nagi agreed, shoving his phone in his pocket as the three of them traipsed towards the closest convenience store, leaving Isagi and Y/N blissfully alone and unaware that they had ever been there in the first place.

[herejusttosufferalong]

Ugh, maybe it's a harsh thing to say..... Someone commented N and JD might fit intellectually. I agree.

It think LN is definitely not dumb, he can nicely articulate his thoughts for the role he spent 5 yrs playing, but he is not on N's level I am afraid. Look at the simple company he keeps. Sorry 😬

Now listen….

I LOVE my man and in soo many ways he is the most intelligent man in the room but not concerning the things most people would tick the box for.

He is more rough, he works with his hands and is very creative, he’s just not philosophically or politically adept.

I like that about him.

I wasn’t looking for a man who can wax on about social issues, platonism vs stoicism or the global economic concerns we face under a fiat currency system.

I have well defined groups that I’m in to scratch the itch.

He brings me peace, love and joy.

That’s what I’m hoping both L and N find, whether together or apart.

[mokulule]

The Number You Have Called Cannot Be Reached 6

Part 1|Part 2|Part 3|Part 4|Part 5

Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Warnings: angst/depression and canon typical violence

Bruce sighed, absently feeling the air on his hands folded in front of his face. He stared unseeingly ahead. His frowned deeply, at a loss of what to do. Worry picked at his self control.

Something was up with Jason. Ever since the other night, something had happened between the thief and Jason. It had left him unsettled and off balance, that much was obvious. They’d all been able to see it.

Now, today, Jason had lost control. He’d been agitated of course, but Bruce hadn’t expected the outburst. Jason was usually good at managing his anger these days, at least in the family. He didn’t get physical with them anymore in anger. Except today Jason had suddenly pulled him up by the shirt, and Bruce had honestly expected him to punch him. Jason had shaken it off, but then he’d fled.

The urge to move, to do something, itched at him. He wanted to get answers, but confronting Jason was out of the question. Their truce was fragile, and it seemed every time he spoke to Jason he said the wrong thing. He didn’t know what to do except control the urge to go after his son. He couldn’t fight his demons for him. He could only try not to make it worse.

And so he sat there, staring, unseeing.

Dick’s footsteps, came down the stairs, easily recognizable: light and almost dancing to a rhythm only he could hear, skipping a step every now and then.

“Hey B, thought you were going golfing with the mayor, keeping up the old appearances and all that” he greeted brightly, as ever immune to Bruce’s mood. Or maybe Alfred sent him down to deal with him, that was also an option.

“Oh I love these,” Dick reached forward over Bruce’s shoulder to grab a protein bar from the backpack. He opened it and started to eat it without hesitation.

“Dick,” Bruce sighed, “this is evidence.”

Dick snorted and leaned on the console so he could look at Bruce. “You’re serious.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow.

Dick snorted again, of course Bruce was serious, then he pulled the backpack over and started rooting through it. Much to Bruce’s exasperation he opened another protein bar.

“Dick, they could be drugged.”

“As if you’d have let me take the first one if that was the case,” Dick mumbled around the mouthful of granola. Bruce mentally conceded the point.

“Anyways,” Dick swallowed and continued, reading the name tag on the inside of the backpack, “Danny Fenton, who’s that?”

Bruce sighed.

“The thief.”

“The Ghost!?” Dick looked up in excitement, “so we have a name now?”

“Presumably, it may not originally have been his backpack.”

“True, doesn’t help much either does it? Danny is very common and Fenton may not be Johnson, but it’s not exactly unique.”

“I haven’t looked it up yet.”

Dick narrowed his eyes.

“This has anything to do with why you’re brooding?”

Silence stretched between them, but Dick could be surprisingly patient when he wanted to. There was no point in dragging things out, it wasn’t a secret, Dick could easily find out through the surveillance if he wanted, Bruce would rather he didn’t.

“Jason was the one who delivered the backpack.”

“Ah.” There was the worried frown Bruce would have liked to avoid. He leaned down a bit to better face Bruce.

“You had a fight?” The question was posed carefully, softly, not betraying any inkling what he thought of that, in a way to gently pry the answer from Bruce, but Bruce knew his eldest son well enough to know he was already mentally running damage control options. That was Dick, always trying to keep their family together tooth and nail. There was a soft pang of appreciation in his chest he couldn’t articulate, instead he focused on the problem at hand.

“He’s convinced the thief needs help, I don’t actually disagree.”

Dick sat back in realization, his eyes flickered to the backpack and its sorry spoils.

“But he could still be working for someone,” Dick recited with a sigh, it was an old lesson. One he knew Jason wouldn’t have appreciated, not if he felt Bruce was dismissing his concerns. “B.”

“I know.”

Do you? Dick’s eyebrows asked, but he had the grace not to actually say it. He clapped Bruce on the shoulder instead, squeezing slightly.

“He’ll warm back up.”

“You think so?” He asked unable to look up at Dick.

“Hey,” Dick said brightly in a way that naturally drew attention to him, “we’ve come back from worse.” And there was that bright smile and that pang of appreciation was back, along with another warm feeling in his chest: hope.

“Well, I gotta get going, I’ve got work tomorrow. Just gotta grab a few more of these.”

And the feeling was gone.

“Dick.”

“We shouldn’t waste perfectly good food, B, also they’re W-Mark exclusives, they don’t have them in Blüdhaven.” He grinned, pockets stuffed with contraband. Invariably reminding Bruce of a younger version with pockets full of candy he’d been denied. Brat already knew he had won. Bruce waved him off with a sigh.

Dick practically skipped towards the stairs. Then he paused.

“Oh and B, if I was you, I’d check the phone at the bottom of the bag. It’s not a brand I recognize.”

With that he was off.

Bruce stared after him. Pride warred with annoyance. He’d been so absorbed in his thoughts he hadn’t even noticed Dick checking out the bag more thoroughly than the cursory look he himself had done when Jason had handed it to him.

He grabbed the bag and rooted around a bit, and just as Dick had said, there was a phone.

He pulled it out, and turned it over in his hands. It was made from dark blue plastic. The logo on the back, a stylized V in front of a globe, wasn’t one he recognized. It looked old and scuffed, had actual buttons and a jarringly small screen when you were used to modern smartphones.

It was also out of power.

With how old it looked, it was unlikely cordless charging was an option. He looked at the bottom edge where there was an actual mini headphone jack, along with what he assumed was the charging port - it wasn’t a type he recognized.

He frowned and got up. He wouldn’t be too late for his meeting with the mayor if he left now, not something he couldn’t brush off as eccentric forgetfulness at least.

He could drop the phone off at Tim’s on the way. Tim would get the phone working one way or another.

Oo o oO

Danny stayed underneath the pavement long after the not-ghost had left. The feeling of almost giving in was a crawling like ants underneath his skin. The threat of almost capture was like a noose around his neck - if they captured him, if they managed to contain him, he would never get home.

Eventually the bone deep tiredness of using his powers too much hit him, and he dragged himself back to his haunt, invisibly and intangibly, because he’d had much too much excitement today. He was raw and empty inside when he dropped onto his blanket pile and rolled up. He would get food some other day. Never mind that he was completely out. It wouldn’t end his existence, just weaken him. Ghosts at the core ran on willpower, and Danny wanted to go home.

A small squeak and rustle, had him opening his eyes a crack and turning his head to look to the far side of the room. There the rat was going his trash, the packaging probably still smelled like food.

He huffed and closed his eyes again. If he got truly desperate he could always eat the rat - It wouldn’t be the worst thing he’d eaten.

next

Masterpost for subscription

Sorry, it's not the longest part this time, but we got to appreciate a few other characters, yay! Hope you enjoyed, cause Danny sure isn't enjoying himself.

[foreverinadais]

summary: steven ‘accidently’ messages you after you’ve broken up.

pairings: ex! steven grant x ex! reader, allusions to ex! marc and ex! jake as well

warnings: literally just angst :( and very minimal cussing

word count: 870 words

a/n: sooo this is the first small part of a series based on ex! moon boys. will have everything from angst, angst and angst, to pining, forced close proximity and hopefully fluff!!! enjoy :) 

ex! series: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

Surely it was an accident.

The message shone on your screen, illuminating a small portion of your dark room that the sun had not yet reached, eyes squinting with the unwelcoming light. You had blinked once, twice, harshly, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes to ensure this wasn’t a cruel trick your mind was playing.

But it was still there.

Hi.

The message was so simple, a single word. But your heart was pounding, and your mouth was dry. You could imagine him saying it. Could still feel the warm embrace of his breath against the top of your head as he whispered the word, and you knew you were home.

Steven had messaged you. But why?

Maybe it was an emergency. Maybe he was in danger. Had to act like everything was normal and the only person he could think to message was, well, you. Or maybe he was drunk. It wasn’t like him to get drunk when he had control of the body, but you didn’t know him anymore. Perhaps he had completely changed. perhaps he wasn’t the Steven you fell in love with anymore.

The thought made you sick.

But another nagging in your brain pulled you back. Maybe he had meant to send it, completely sober. Maybe he was as desperate for you as you were for him. Maybe this was an opening.

Or maybe it was an accident.

You didn’t know which was worse.

You looked at the message a few minutes more, fingers ghosting over the keypad. What could you even say? How could you even articulate your thoughts into just a short message?

Hey, Steven, how are you?

Why’d you message?

Do you still love me?

Sometimes I think I see you in the street but it’s not you and every tiny thing reminds me that no one could ever be you and that your not in my life anymore…

You stopped drafting messages, huffing in frustration as you deleted all you had typed. It was hopeless. You were hopeless.

Should you even reply? Just ghost him, his message, like he was never the man you thought you were going to spend your life with?

You thought about the others, about Jake and Marc, about how they would be cursing him if they found out. Unless it was their idea, too. Unless they all missed you like you craved them.

But your thoughts pulled you back to Steven. Of his trembling fingers and beating heart as he types the simple word. You thought about how nervous he might’ve been. How he was probably feeling like you were now.

You exhaled shakily, finally typing out a message, closing your eyes as you hit send.

Hey, is everything okay?

The question invited conversation; you were well aware. But you were desperate to feel some of him, grab onto every last morsel he would give you. Even if that was just his words through a screen.

You laid still, phone resting on your chest, rising with every heavy breath you took to try and ease your rapid heartbeat. A few minutes passed until it buzzed. You nearly screamed, stomach dropping as you jumped, phone clattering to the floor. “Shit!”

You all but scrambled onto the ground, grabbing your phone, unlocking it and turning to look at it. Sure enough, it was Steven.

Sorry, accident.

You all but felt everything inside of you deflate, felt the heavy weight of just two words settle on your shoulders as you sighed. Of course. You rested your head back on your mattress, eyes shutting as you tried to hold back tears. Of course.

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

Steven groaned as he pressed send, rubbing his eyes in frustration. “Happy now?” He said to his alter through the reflection of the bathroom mirror. He could hardly meet his eyes.

“Of course not, you know that. But it’s the right thing to do.” Steven couldn’t help but scoff, throwing the phone on the counter so that it made a clunk.

“It was just a message. Hardly anythin’ wrong with that.”

“Steven.” And the word was enough to have him quiet. Well, for a moment.

“I can’t keep doing this. It just… it hurts too much-”

“I know.” His alter agreed, looking to the ground. “I know.”

Steven didn’t regret the message until the morning. Until you texted back. He could imagine the turmoil you went through when you read it and instantly felt guilty. He hated himself for having to shut you down. For having to lie. It hurt him more than he could even express.

He looked at the small read next to his message, realised you weren’t saying anything else today. Perhaps you would never say anything to him again. Perhaps this was it. An accidentally on purpose message and an unanswered question.

Sighing, Steven locked the phone, put it in the cupboard, and threw himself into bed. Resting his head on the mattress as if it was too heavy for his body, too full of the thoughts of you.

He felt everything inside of him deflate, felt the weight of just two words crush his shoulders. And just one thought swirled through his mind as he drifted off too sleep: I can’t keep doing this.