#the guilt of it all. i wonder how they deal with it to be honest

[castielsprostate]

I'm nosy af. I want to see Misha's bank statements and tax returns. I genuinely wonder (like, all the time) what decent rich people (not asshole rich people.. i know what they spend their money on) actually spend their money on. I've never had money. I spend everything i get on food and rent. I go into debt buying shampoo and deodorant. my laptop is 12 years old (and i had to get a loan to buy that and pay it off over five years.) My phone is newer (2016) but was a secondhand gift. I don't own a car. I don't have any pets. I've never in my life been on vacation. I have no insurance, I'll never be able to afford a house and I will almost certainly die tens of thousands of dollars in debt. (I looked into funeral expenses recently and thought FUCK i can't even afford to die!) I wonder what it feels like to.. not live like this? Misha was poor as a kid. I wonder if you get used to wealth if you've been dirt poor? Like i wonder if Dolly Parton is used to being rich now, decades after growing up in a shack with no electricity or running water. I can't even imagine ever getting used to not worrying about having enough food. If I was ever that rich (don't have to worry about food or rent money) I think i'd feel like the wealthiest person in the world. I legit can't even imagine it though. It would take me 20 years to earn $250,000, but Misha can do it in a weekend. Crazy world. (This is not a criticism of him. I love him. I bet he spends a lot of that money doing good things. I'd love to see his receipts, tho.)

oh anon i feel you!!!!! i grew up with literally eating 50p macaroni every day for WEEKS. in the winter we didn't have connected heating because we just couldn't pay for it so we had a diesel generator (this was in 2006). it got better, we got heating (sort of lmao) and we could afford wayyy more when my mum got a job. the little bits of money i got, i never got used to it, it always felt like this is the last im getting i need to save this and not spend that but it didn't go away but the feeling stayed. the feeling of "you're gonna lose this next month" doesn't go away. and we're talking an amount of 1k a month here lmao sjsjsjs i could NEVER imagine having to not worry about rent or food or getting clothes i need or new shampoo. right now i'm worrying about the 15€ i need for some things i genuinely need, but literally dont have the money for. the world would seem so much brighter if I wouldn't even have to look at my bank account and just put the card down yknow?

i dont think anyone that grew up poor, even misha or dolly tbh, every get used to having money :/ and as you said, he makes that in a weekend now (though he also donates a lot of money and uses it for good, a lot is going into investments, his kids' funds etc) but i still think he has that underlying worry gnawing at him that this is it and he's gonna have to do xyz and sell yzx and take up zyx job. it's a never ending pool of anxiety and stress that never ebs and it probably hits him right before going to bed

but then again, i'm just tumblr user castielsprostate what do i know

[mysterycitrus]

I know a lot of ppl ask u abt jason or dick but im wondering now, what do u think about bruce? I find him a very interesting character whose characterization is incredibly feeble, both bc of his 80 years of history and the tendency writers have to project their own male fantasies on him. So i'd definitely love to hear ur own thoughts about him. I personally enjoy depicting him as someone morally grey, although my sympatization for him changes day to day. Wether you think he is a good or a bad person, i believe u need to make him dedicated to gotham and the bat as a symbol, and that comes with all its advantages and drawbacks

bruce wayne is sooooo interesting (derogatory) because like u said, he carries the baggage of every masochismo author that decided batman was too woke and should hurt his kids and that supporting gotham’s infrastructure is for pussies. there’s also the flipside of that, where he’s the perfect father who’s waaaay too emotionally regulated for my taste. both of these interpretations are bad imo, and both functionally miss the point.

i think part of this (in fandom) is an obsession with moral angst — u can either be a good person doing good things, or a bad person doing bad things. think about how some characters are crucified while others are babied. someone always has to be absolutely right, and the other has to be absolutely wrong.

in reality, there are a lot of people who are fundamentally kind and fundamentally want to do good that are really terrible to the people in their lives. bruce wayne being someone who relies on having so much control that it implodes his connections to the people around him is an important part of his character. his profound love for his children, for gotham and her people, for humanity in general and his belief in peoples ability to change, doesn’t circumvent the fact that he’s often an emotionally abusive man who hurts others to achieve his own ends. he contains multitudes.

writing him as a functionally irredeemable, violently abusive person is the anti-thesis to the symbol that he himself created. no, i personally don’t believe he actively beats his kids (even though it’s supported in the text). no, i don’t think he’s an irredeemable sadist (as much as frank miller wants u to believe otherwise). to have people like dick grayson and diana and clark and dinah love and believe in u means that there has to be something there worth caring about, otherwise the whole universe is gonna fall apart.

that’s what makes his relationship to cass so interesting — he sees his neuroticism, his dedication to the cause above all else, and does not find it admirable. he finds it confronting and upsetting. and to be clear, cass (like dick) is very much the moral ideal of what batman should be, but still bruce finds it hard to deal with!!

his abject failures — his treatment of the robins, his crippling guilt about jason, his fears of becoming a killer, the impossible load he gives himself to carry — means that when he’s shown as someone who genuinely cares, it makes him more complex. like yeah, bruce isn’t actually a cold hearted person. he really really gives a shit. too many shits, to be totally honest. he’s a morally grey person that wants to do good, but is so terrified of losing control that he keeps others away and hurts them in the process. there’s a reason why his emotional crutch was a traumatised eight year old fr. nothing is more important than the mission, including bruce wayne himself

[fuckmyskywalker]

🕯️🧺 w anakin? plz? 🥺❤️

Prompt: 🕯️ "You weren’t supposed to hear that.” | 🧺 Stepcest. — Anakin Skywalker.

CW: 18+, smut!. stepcest, dub-con/non-con (reader is drunk and under other substances, they don't explicitly say yes but they don't say no either so). Anakin is quite violent in here, and mean, and a bitch. Dirty talk, Oral sex (m), struggling with feelings, Anakin is an idiot tbh but he is my filthy, pervert idiot. | Word count: 2.9k (...somebody kill me.)

a/n: This is so disgustingly delicious I couldn't help myself, sorry. It was supposed to be a short drabble but ended up being almost 3k of pure filth.

His feet tap the rug of the living room anxiously; Anakin knows he should stay away from all this, lock himself in his bedroom, and jack off before bed. 

But as usual, his thoughts are even more complicated than that, he is caught between a situation that he isn’t sure has a positive outcome or even one for that matter. It’s the same conflict he has been going through ever since his wonderful mother had the great idea to marry your awesome dad who treated her as she deserved and welcomed Anakin as his son. But that wasn’t the problem.

It was you.

Anakin wanted you, so bad it burned his skin and chained his heart to a cold wall of self-restraint. This is wrong, or at least that’s what he kept repeating to himself every night he heard you in the adjacent room, moaning softly under your own caresses and all he could do was rub his uncomfortable erection to at least ease some of the yearning. This is wrong, or at least that’s what he kept whispering in the shower, closing his eyes to not see his hands squeezing your bottle of shampoo and consuming his sanity in the sweet scent of strawberry shortcake, relishing in the calmness your characteristic smell brings him. This is wrong, or at least that’s what he kept saying in the solitude of the obscure living room, waiting for you to come back from whatever fucking party you decided to sneak out that night.

It was easier to mask his desires and sinful lusts for you under a coat of anger. Always snapping at you, yelling, pushing you away. Anakin found that nasty attitude as an effective coping mechanism. For a while. You suddenly stopped talking to him, searching for his friendship or a simple common ground so you two could be in the same room without screaming and throwing insults at each other until either his mother or your father had to step in.

Neither of them tried to interfere unless things got heavily verbal and one time, physical. They both concluded it was only the edge of getting used to this new dynamic. You and Anakin just need more time to grow accustomed to each other’s presence, that’s it. Plus, Shmi didn’t feel entitled to scold you, and your father was never good at dealing with “women’s emotions”.

Deep down, Anakin was feeling guilty, and he, much like your father, wasn't good at dealing with others’ emotions, less alone his. He never tried to apologize either, which perhaps was why he was doing this. Aside from that repetitive statement of “this is wrong”, he tries to swallow his guilt and add to the mix a hint of “this is how I show my worry for her”. Which, if being brutally honest, was a pretty shitty way of doing so. Glancing at the digital clock on the fireplace, his anxious tapping gets stronger, it is almost 3:30 am. He hesitates, should he call you? Would you even pick up the phone? Should he just drop this whole act off and go to bed? Anakin feels too tired to even masturbate, or too angry, it doesn’t matter. The thoughts and “what ifs” begin to drown him, and if there is something that the unstable bastard is, is an overthinker. 

As luck would have it, his head snaps up when he hears the front door click open softly, followed by a muffled giggle. He stands up slowly, careful not to make a single noise. Are you alone? He hopes you are. The idea of seeing you with someone else twists his stomach with jealousy, quickly followed by that familiar wave of guilt. He has no right over you, that is a fact, and yet he forces himself to look over it, using the poor, sick excuse of being your stepbrother to worry about you; Even if his worry is translated into being a bitch, spying your every movement, and fucking his fist to the thought of you. 

He sees you stumbling through the front door, clicking the latch with what appears to be shaky fingers. Anakin remains silent as he scoots closer to you, resting on the frame of the arch that leads from the living room to the hallway that connects with the front door and the kitchen. You fail to notice his presence, too busy struggling to keep both feet on the floor as your heels hang from your right hand and your purse on your left. The tiniest bit of relief travels through his veins, at least you are alone. You walk past Anakin, but he doesn’t let you wander more than three steps. 

“Had a fun time? He asks in a sarcastic, dry tone. Cold blue eyes scan you up and down unashamedly, taking notice of how revealing and tight your outfit looks. 

With a loud gasp you turn around in a split second, your eyes widen and your mouth contorts into an expression of shock and drunken panic, Anakin predicts your scream and sprints towards you clasping a hand over your mouth and pushing you against the nearest wall. If he was upset before now he is fuming. “Shut the fuck up” He whispers against your face, his hot breath fanning over your nose. Up close Anakin notices how your eyes are droopy, puffy, and red. “If you wake them up I won’t save your ass”

You try to push him away but to no avail, Anakin is stronger than you, and your drunken state completely eats up your stability. Your head shakes side to side trying to remove his hand from your mouth but it only makes him push it harder until your lips begin to feel numb. “Where were you?” He asks, towering right in front of you in a frightening yet… arousing way. “And what the fuck is that outfit?” 

It’s rather ironic how your stepbrother keeps interrogating you but also takes away your ability to talk— You let go of your heels that fall to the wood floor with a muted sound, trying to push him away with your palm against his chest. 

Which apparently infuriates Anakin further. “Keep your hands off me, who knows where they’ve been” He hisses and slaps your hand away and pins it to your side with frustrated force.  “Were you with someone?” Anakin hisses, so close to your face you can see how deep his eyes are. You never recall they were such a pretty shade of blue. 

You shake your head at his last question, the only verbal indication you can give. His shoulders seem to relax the tiniest bit just to return to his usual tense shape. “Don’t fucking lie to me” He warns you and spits your name in a venomous way that should hurt your feelings and bring tears to your eyes. You shake your head again this time more desperately, this is the closest he had ever been to you ever since your father married his mother and it’s borderline scary. “You smell like a damn distillery, fucking disgusting” 

Instead of pushing him again, you raise your knee to hit his hip, your goal was his crotch but you missed by a lot. Anakin grunts in pain and lets go of your mouth for a second letting you take a heavy, desperate breath. Your body feels dizzy and sweaty and it’s all because of him. The altercation only lasts a few seconds and you don’t even reach the first stair before Anakin yanks your hair and slams your body back to a wall.

“Let go of me—” You whine with little conviction. “Get the fuck off Anakin I—” Your voice isn’t a plea, it’s an irritated complaint that makes you focus on everything else besides the burning ache that is beginning to form in between your legs at the tussle between your stepsibling. You expect his hand to clasp over your mouth again and the little self-consciousness left in your mind decides to bite his palm if he does so—

But instead, his lips crash over yours messily, punching all the air from your lungs. Your body reacts faster than your mind and the first thought that swirls in your hazed head is: His tongue tastes like heaven. Anakin quietly grunts at the strong flavor of liqueur and cheap cigarettes that fills his senses, pushing his hips forward basically rubbing his half-hard cock against your hip. Using his grip on your hair he yanks your head upwards so his lips can attack your jaw and neck, rapt in your heavy panting. Anakin’s knee finds a comfortable spot between your thighs, rubbing the sharp bone over against your needy core. Your body jolts slightly and you mewl into the cold air of the staircase hallway. You want to touch him, run your hands through his hair, cup his beautiful face, embrace this sick, prohibited feeling— but the emotional grip he was on you is doing its job. You can’t seem to find the strength to move a single muscle, melting into a wordless puddle for the person who you were supposed to hate.

Anakin’s knee picks up an acceptable pace forcing you to move your hips involuntarily to relieve some of the ache. You couldn’t remember when was the last time you were this wet, and even if you wanted to— it would’ve been impossible. He leaves wet, lewd kisses over your neck before sucking and biting your skin, ravishing you as if you were his prey, and perhaps you were. Anakin’s hand which isn’t gripping at your hair so hard your scalp is burning, squeezes your hip with the same brutal, appealing force. 

“You don’t have any idea how bad I want you” Anakin breathes against your neck, his voice lingering with that dangerous edge, mixed with what appears to be compassion, but not for you, for himself.— or even emotion. “You get under my damn skin, you make me lose my damn mind” His white teeth are like a threat, sinking into every inch of skin available, marking you. 

To care? You don’t have it in you. Probably not even if you were sober. Your mind struggles to come up with a reply, the ocean you are swimming in has everything except guilt, which was burning Anakin’s soul. “I know…” You whispered weakly, pushing your hips forwards and biting your lip to choke a moan at how good it felt to be humping your stepbrother’s knee. “I heard you jacking last month— you moaned my name” It was a miracle you could even build the sentence together, your voice was slurred and broken, but Anakin understood every word.

He curses under his breath, and the surprising sight of his flushed, red cheeks seems to break your drunk trance for a moment. Anakin hides his face in your shoulder, resting his forehead on the muscle. “You weren’t supposed to hear that” He mutters, it feels humiliating, but the simple act of unintentional humiliation makes his cock twitch inside his grey sweats. 

“I did”

“Shut up”

“I liked it”

Anakin’s head snaps upwards, meeting your half-lidded eyes. He wants to believe you. The doubt flies around his head: He is not used to having what he wants— Why would you be the exception? Is this his chance to be greedy and take the only thing he has been craving for months now? Is this how Eve felt when the Devil offered her the forbidden fruit? 

Are you his forbidden fruit?

Is this the way out from Eden?

It was too much. 

Lowering his knee he glares at your discontented groan, placing both hands on your shoulders and forcing you to kneel. The intention is clear, and it doesn’t take you long to pick it up. Your shaky hands fumble with the little bow on his swears but Anakin just pushes them away, muttering something about ‘how stupidly drunk you are you can’t even do something for yourself’. What is also not a surprise, is the lack of underwear— but what it is— is his cock. 

Your mouth waters at the sight of it, completely hard right in front of your face. Swallowing, you allow him to guide the tip to your open, awaiting mouth. The first touch is like touching heaven, or hell— Your warm tongue swirls over the sensitive head tasting the salty precum, wondering what could you do to be able to savor him again. Anakin places his large hand on the back of your head fighting the urge to push you all the way in. He is trying to be nice, at least a little. Although, it seems like you have other plans; He is bigger than other guys you’ve seen, not massive but certainly above average. Perhaps big enough that you can see the outline on your lower stomach if he fucks you. Sliding a couple more inches inside your wet mouth you roll your eyes at the way Anakin’s breath hitches and how his hips push forwards the slightest bit.

The wonderful weight of his cock on your tongue is hypnotizing, and you waste no time bobbing your head back and forth, sliding a bit more of his cock after a couple of minutes. Raising your eyes, you find Anakin staring directly at you, his blue irises dilated and almost glowing in a predatory manner. 

His breathless chuckle catches you off guard. “You must be a slut if you suck cock this good.” It’s a double-edged compliment, either way, it feels good. You whine around his dick making him hiss in pleasure, biting his lower lip to keep the noises down. He can only imagine the catastrophic consequences if his mother (or your father) wakes up and finds his son’s cock buried in his stepsibling’s throat. “Fuck— I wish I could have you on your knees all day…” 

You try to nod at the idea, it sounds great— it fucking does. The struggle for air starts to hit you, and the lustful haze replaces the alcohol haze in your head and bloodstream— You are no longer drunk in cheap tequila, vodka, and whatever the fuck was in that igloo; no, you are drunk in his cock, his scent, his voice, in him. 

You decide to go big, because well, you already are home. Deepthroating him rewards you with a delightful moan, not loud enough to bounce over the walls of the first floor but enough for you to pick it up and moan as an aftereffect. Your throat contracts around his hard cock and Anakin is a dead man. The little restraint he had left breaks and the next thing you feel is your head banging against the wall to keep you in place as he fucks your face. His hips thrust on and on, your gags and chokes sobs only spurring him further. Your nails dig into his thighs and his balls graze against your chin with every frantic snap. Anakin is painting, sweating, sinning. 

If this was the forbidden fruit, could he blame Eve at all? 

Your tears, your smeared makeup, the drool that trickles down your chin is like a work of art. Anakin thinks you look beautiful, but it isn’t enough. The muted pounding of the back of your skull against the wall shouldn’t be as erotic as you register it, forcing your mouth open, letting him use you, ruin you, own you in the nastiest way possible. 

Anakin’s release comes without warning. His cock twitches inside your mouth and some thick, hot ropes of cum slide down your throat before he moved out of the warm paradise that your mouth was to paint your face with his cum. He exhales shakily, stroking the base to make sure everything is out and on you. The thick globe of cum that slides down your cheek reaches the corner of your lips and you stick your tongue to catch it, making Anakin squeeze his eyes close and wipe the sweat away from his forehead with the back of his hand.

The silence is everything but tense, it even feels comforting; as if all the words that you two wanted to scream were now said— in such a carnal, animalistic way. Anakin’s hands are gentle as he helps you get up, giving you the time you need to calm yourself and settle the unsteadiness of your legs. His arm wraps itself around your waist, trying so badly not to look at your cum-stained face in order to not get hard again. 

“Sorry,” He whispers as the familiar sensation of guilt makes itself present and commences to weigh his shoulders down. His nose scratches your shoulder, and every negative thought begins to swirl inside his mind. 

“Don’t be” You reply, trying to smile but you are too tired to even do it.

The clock ticks 4:12 am.

“Is it wrong if I say I love you?” Anakin’s voice is searing with regret, what has he done? The martyrdom rings inside his chest, constricting it and echoing like big, golden bells. 

“I don’t know” Your answer is sincere. You blink some tears away, wiping some of his lukewarm cum away from your face, it’s beginning to dry up. “But I love you too, so, if it’s wrong…”

He knows what you are implying. 

The clock ticks 4:16 am when he helps you undress and wipes your face with a makeup remover wipe. Anakin helps you get dressed, noticing your pajama top was an old t-shirt that belongs to him, a piece of clothing he simply imagined he lost in the washer machine. His lips are soft when he tucks you in bed. You smile at him tiredly, kissing him back.

No more words were needed.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 English isn’t my first language, sorry for any mistakes!

[xxoxobree]

Fix That Attitude

Miles G x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Miles get into a little argument

WARNINGS: Bad words, a little bit of toxic behavior, fluff.

A/n: I actually enjoyed writing this 🥰 so I hope you like it too.

You and Miles were finally chilling in your room after a torturous day at school. It was the time to relax and catch up on your phones, because what else are phones for? As you mindlessly swiped through your social media feed, you came across a picture of Jayla, who, let's be honest, has a major crush on Miles and once spread a rumor that you stole him from her. You rolled your eyes and continued scrolling until you saw Miles' username pop up, liking her photo. You couldn't help but jerk your head back and scrunch your eyebrows in confusion, wondering why your boyfriend was double-tapping on her pictures.

Your heart started thumping like a maniac, and a cocktail of anger, betrayal, and fear went on a wild roller coaster ride through your veins. Your mind went into overdrive, interrogating the loyalty and commitment you thought Miles had for you. Like seriously, how could he be double-tapping her pictures? Is there some secret love affair going on? A tiny whisper of doubt tiptoed into your thoughts, carefully unweaving the trust you two had  built over time.

You sat up, giving your neck a full rotation, even cracking your fingers, trying your best to calm yourself before you went off on the poor boy. Miles noticed your gestures, sitting up with you, confusion written all over his face before he finally spoke.

"What's wrong, Ma?"

You let out a sigh before picking up your phone, shoving it in his face. "You find her pretty? You wanna be with this bald-headed bitch, huh?" You snapped.

Miles sighed, taking the phone from you. He looked at the screen quickly, seeing his username. "Mami, it was probably a mistake. I don't even follow her. Are you seriously mad at that?" He said handing you your phone.

You, looked at Miles with fire in your eyes as you bounced your leg rapidly, your voice elevating. "Yes, I'm freaking angry, Miles. How am I supposed to feel about my boyfriend liking another girl's picture, a bitch I don't like at that?"

Miles threw his hands up in defense, his voice raising with yours. "Y/n, it was an accident, bruh. I can unlike the picture, it's not that big of a deal," he said, grabbing his phone to unlike the photo.

Your blood was practically boiling at this point as Miles' words echoed through your mind. Without thinking you stood up and smacked his phone out of his hand. "Nah, don't unlike it. Go be with that bitch, Miles, since you like her so much," you said, folding your arms and locking eyes with him.

Miles stood up, towering over you, looking down at you, but you didn't let that phase you one bit. You watched as he let out a breath, clenching his jaw. He chucked, throwing his head back slightly before talking. "You better fix that attitude before I do, ma." His hazel eyes sparkled with a mix of frustration and hurt.

"Fuck you nigga," you said, a slight smirk dancing on your face. Miles nodded in response "Bet!" He said, his expression filled with annoyance. He quickly gathered his belongings and made his way towards the door. As he took each step, a wave of guilt washed over you, maybe you did overreact. Desperation filled your voice as you called out to him, "Where are you going?"

"I'm leaving, y/n," he stated, continuing to walk towards the door. Not wanting him to go, you hurriedly followed behind him, reaching out to grab his wrist.

"No,you're not leaving, Miles," you pleaded, your voice filled with a longing. Miles let out a sigh, his heart torn between staying and leaving, he immediately softened. He couldn't stay mad at his princess.

"Y/n, I have to go," he said. "Miles, noooo! I'm not playing," you pleaded with him in a whiney tone. He turned around, his eyes meeting yours.

"Let me go, guapa," he said melodically. "Miles, please," you said, tears welling up in your eyes as you looked at him. He sighed and then took a firm grip on your waist, lifting you up as you wrapped your legs around his waist. "Look at you," he smirked, admiring your face.

You sniffled, trying your best to hold back your tears. "Don't leave, I'm sorry," you said.

Miles leaned in and gave you a soft kiss on the lips. "I'm not leaving, princesa," he reassured you.

You wrapped your arms around him, giving him a tight hug. "I love you, Miles," you whispered.

"I love you too, Mamita,"

Copyright © 2023 Breeandhermunches. All rights reserved.

[angels-fantasy]

Top Secret Fiction Ch. 4

Farmers Market

Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Description: After meeting the one and only pro hero Dynamight on a dating app, you two begin to see each other. Because of the dangers that come with his hero work, you both promise to be completely honest with each other from the beginning; though you can't help but keep one big secret from him.

You write fan fiction, mostly about him.

Chapter Details: nothing crazy. another date, katsuki being sweet, reader uses their quirk

Word Count: 1.4k

previous chapter

It's been about two weeks since you went on your date with Bakugou and you haven't seen him since, unfortunately. But it was for good reason - his hero work.

Going into this, you knew he'd be extremely busy, but you didn't think he'd be this busy. But you could understand it. Though something you did appreciate was the fact that he did make time to talk to you on the phone and would let you know when he'd have to go hours without talking.

In these past two weeks you also thought about his serious talk with you, about honesty.

Guilt ate away at you every time you started writing or even thought about it, which made it harder to stay active on your writing account.

Your secret really wasn't that big of a deal, but it was still a secret. Fan fiction was also something that had a bad reputation among people who didn't read it, so who knows how Bakugou felt about it.

Your phone ringing broke you out of your thoughts.

Looking at the caller ID, you saw that it was Bakugou. Smiling, you answered it and said "Hi Bakugou!"

"Hey, you busy right now?" He asked.

You looked around your room, as if that'd give you an answer. "Uh no, why?"

"Good. Can you be ready in like - thirty minutes? I'm free for the rest of the day and I wanna hangout now that I actually have time."

How sweet.

"Yeah I'll be ready by then. Are we meeting somewhere?"

"No, I'm picking you up."

"'Kay, see you then. Bye!"

"Bye."

Hanging up, you squealed into your pillow and then looked at the time. It was only 3:00 pm, so you'd have to be ready by 3:30.

As you rushed to get ready you wondered where Bakugou was taking you. He didn't say you had to dress a certain way, so you went for a casual and comfortable outfit.

He didn't seem like the type to take you somewhere extravagant randomly, so you were sure it'd be somewhere that was pretty relaxed.

After getting ready you noticed you had a few minutes left to spare so you decided to go check on the plants you had around your home.

You had about three plants in your home, all of them ranging from different sizes and types. You didn't have many plants in your home because you already had many at your work place.

You attended to each of your plants needs after they had told you what it is they wanted. One wanted more sunlight, the other was thirsty, and one was just fine.

You looked at your phone to check if Bakugou had texted you, and luckily he did. He had sent a text saying he was outside waiting for you.

You smiled and slipped your shoes on, saying bye to Cheerios and your plants like you always did.

Sliding into the passenger seat you said, "Hey stranger. How've you been?"

He smiled lightly, "Sorry I haven't been able to see you. Work keeps me busy but I'm good, you?"

"I get it. I've been good too though. Has anything interesting happened at work?"

Bakugou brought a hand up to his jaw and stroked it while he thought. "Eh, nothing major. I did stop a bank robbery with Red Riot a few days ago though."

You gasped and turned to him, "A whole bank robbery? I feel like that's such a stereotypical situation... you know? Like, you just see it in movies all the time."

"I know, which is why people usually don't attempt to rob a whole bank" He laughed, "But clearly these guys were idiots."

You laughed at that. "I can't even imagine trying to rob a bank. I mean - where would you even start?

The two of you continued to talk on the way to your destination, which he actually told you about this time. He said that there was a farmers market happening nearby and he actually went there pretty often, so he thought he should invite you along with him which you thought was sweet.

When you arrived it was just as you expected and it seemed to be quite busy.

"Wow I can't believe I've never been here before! The decorations are so cute." You said in awe, once you both started walking around.

"You wanna go get food? There's this old dude that sells the best takoyaki at his stand." Bakugou said as you two walked through the crowd.

You nodded, "Yeah I'm down. Takoyaki sounds really good right now - oh and after can we stop at that stand?" You asked, pointing to a stand that was selling crocheted stuffed animals.

He nodded and then held out a hand, "So you don't get lost in the crowd."

Yeah right.

You smiled and grabbed his hand, letting him lead the way to the takoyaki stand. Once you got there you met the old man he mentioned and talked to him for a bit. You found out that he made the takoyaki himself and he'd been doing it for over thirty years!

When it came to paying, Bakugou kept insisting that he would pay for your food but you stood your ground and told him you were just fine paying for your own.

He grumbled about it for a while after but eventually got over it. You two then went over to the stand you mentioned earlier, and looked at the stuffed animals for sale.

"They're so cute! I think I'm gonna buy one." You said to Bakugou.

He hummed, "You should get that one." and pointed to a white jumbo bunny wearing pink overalls.

"You're so right." You said and placed your food down so you could grab the bunny and check for a price tag.

Your eyes widened at the price.

"This thing is sixty bucks!" You whispered to him.

"What? Lemme see." He said and grabbed the bunny from you to look at the tag. His eyebrows raised a bit at the price. "Tsk, I can make this shit myself."

"You crochet?" You asked.

"Sometimes..." He said and looked away.

You laughed and then grabbed the bunny back from him. "Well, I guess it's goodbye bunny. You're just too expensive." You said and sadly put the bunny back where it once was, making sure to grab your takoyaki.

"Wanna go sit under that tree?" You asked and pointed to a large tree with a bench underneath it.

Bakugou nodded and you began making your way over to the bench.

Once you got there you both continued to eat your food in a comfortable silence. Looking up at the tree, you used your quirk and listened.

"This tree has seen a lot of things." You smiled.

"Whaddya mean?" He asked around his food.

"My quirk. I just used it and listened to the tree. She said she's seen a lot of interesting things in this spot, good and bad." You said and listened some more, "Proposals are the most common."

Bakugou smiled, "The tree really said all that?"

"Yeah! Trees have such interesting stories because they've been around so long." You said excitedly.

He looked up at the tree, "I guess I never thought about it like that."

After some more talking and eating, Bakugou offered to throw away your trash for you, which you accepted. He told you to wait at the bench for him, so you did.

It was taking him a bit longer than you thought it would so you began to worry a bit. As you were biting your lip in thought, a touch on your shoulder made you jump.

"Didn't mean to scare ya."

You placed a hand on your chest, "Jeez! You walk so quietly I didn't hear anything."

Bakugou smirked, "Here, I got you something."

He handed you a large, brown paper bag and watched as you looked inside.

"The bunny!" You gasped and pulled it out of the bag. "But it was so expensive, why did you buy this?!"

He shrugged, "You wanted it, and I guess it's okay to look at."

You looked at the bunny intensely and rubbed its head.

"It's so cute... Thank you so much." You said.

"It's not problem, just make sure to name it after me." He joked.

You clicked your tongue and smacked him with the bunny.

...

You guys had ended up spending the rest of the day together, finally leaving the farmers market around 8:30 pm.

When Bakugou pulled up to your house, you hesitated before getting out.

"You good?" He asked.

"Yeah, um. Do you wanna come inside?" You asked quietly.

He smiled the widest you've ever seen him smile and said, "Yeah. Will your plants be okay with it?"

"Har har." You said while rolling your eyes and got out the car, leading him into your house.

authors note

sorry for the little cliff hanger :3

also, here's the bunny katsuki bought reader

taglist: @doumadono @54fangirl @andysdrafts @dagger-dragger @lovra974 @l4rsun1vrrse @emmab3mma @littlkittenfan @tatiquichi @cloudxluv @seonne @shonen-brainrot @the2ndl @gold24fish @cxp1d @rv19 @gina329

(those in pink couldn't be tagged)

[ovaryacted]

do you think re4make leon knows how to fuck? 👀

The little eye emoji at the end is making me laugh. But hmm, I've actually thought of this before in-depth, and if I'm gonna be completely honest...probably not. HOLD ON HOLD ON! HEAR ME OUT FIRST DON'T BOO ME OFF THE STAGE!

So in my mind (keyword: my), I don't think Leon would know how to "fuck". He's just not a #realfucker. HOWEVER, that does not mean he is an idiot when it comes to sex and what to do. He just doesn't have enough "experience" that would put him in a category of people who are masters in the bedroom, and that is okay! Frankly, I think it's more realistic and sticks to his loser persona.

I mean, we are dealing with a 27/28-year-old man with immense trauma and survivor's guilt who's been blackmailed into military service and literally thinks about dying frequently. He's in Spain fighting demons both literally and figuratively and has one foot in the grave at all times. No, I don't think he knows how to fuck, he probably hasn't even really done anything that would qualify as "fucking" in a healthy way.

He'd probably have limited chances to actually get involved with anyone, especially if he was being trained to the degree he was. Also, if he was under Krauser's supervision and being trained by him as a means of survival, he doesn't know anything about another human's touch outside of obligation. Not to mention the context of the period he was in the military (close to the early 2000s I think), he probably experienced a fuck ton of homophobia for being a "pretty boy" anyway and that would be a direct jab to his wavering self-confidence.

If anything, he's probably had some quick blowjobs or given them, but actual sex? Nah, his brain can't comprehend doing something like that when he's too busy wondering if he'll live to see another day.

Let us say he was allowed to fuck somebody, I think he would be clueless on where to start or what to do. Sure, Leon is smart and perceptive, he'll be able to adapt eventually, but it won't be a natural process. I made an analysis post about this topic a while ago, about viewing Leon as a sex god when he's the complete opposite in my mind, and I always come back to that because that's how I interpret him.

Does he know where the clit is? Does he know what to do with a dick? Sure, he knows enough about the female and male body to understand what to touch and what goes where. The thing he doesn't know is how to do it in a way that makes both parties feel good, and how it varies from person to person. Has he watched porn or looked through magazines? Probably back when he was a hormonal teenager with nothing better to do, or before he found himself in his current situation, but he doesn't like it. He doesn't see women in particular in the same light as every other form of media views them, so his perception of sex and how it should be done contradicts the norm. Or, he just assumes that he should know what to do, and since he doesn't or can't seem to figure it out, he doesn't bother trying to find out.

He doesn't give me those vibes that he's someone who would know what to do in the bedroom off that bat, and I'm not saying that to be a bummer but that's how I see him at least during this part of his life. But, if you trust him and make him feel comfortable enough by reassuring him as you guide him in the process, he will know how to fuck but primarily know how to fuck you.

Even if I say he doesn't know how to fuck (outside of the regular missionary but he finishes too early so it's embarrassing), he will always be a munch to me. That is his skill in the bedroom, his thing. I always say this but to me, the reason why he doesn't know how to fuck is because he's too damn busy diving headfirst into some pussy so he doesn't care about the whole "fucking" aspect of things. He gets off on getting his partners off, that's just the truth, my truth and I'm sticking to it.

[seelestia]

— 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄.

SUMMARY. they come home to find you asleep on the couch while waiting for their return.

CHARACTERS. ayato, diluc, childe, albedo, alhaitham.

GENRE. domestic fluff.

CW. mentions of sharing a bed (but nothing suggestive), reader gets carried bridal style (diluc), reader calls childe 'ajax'.

THOUGHTS. this mix of characters may seem random, but they just came to mind when i first thought of this concept. also, because sleepy reader supremacy !! <3

✰ masterlist.

☆ AYATO . . . lets out a fond sigh at the sight of you. He has told you before that the piles of paperwork on a commissioner's desk varies from day to day, thus there is no set time when he'd come to bed — but you didn't listen, did you? "How stubborn," his chest rumbles with a chuckle, his tone leaning more towards endearment than anything.

You sure are an exquisite one. He'd be lying if he says that stubbornness of yours, paired with your adorable face as you sleep, don't enamor him in the slightest.

Ayato can already feel the tension in his muscles melt in an instant, as if your mere presence becomes waves that wash away the burdens of his mind. With a loving sigh, he tucks a stray strand of hair that has fallen over your face, "I'm truly lucky."

He'd really hate to disturb your sleep; but he thinks sleeping in his embrace on a bed that is much comfier than this couch is a better suggestion, no? People sleep a bed for a reason, after all.

☆ DILUC . . . dismisses a worried Adelinde who informs him of your obstinacy to wait for his return. "It's alright, I'll take care of them," he shakes his head before carefully scooping you into his arms. If Diluc were to be honest, he already expects this from you ever since you've expressed your desire to greet him home even after his dealings with notorious organizations at night.

He often tells you to prioritize your sleep more — but as he holds you like this, Diluc can't help but feel a tinge of appreciation, albeit melancholically.

"...You're back?" You lift your head groggily, shaken awake by Diluc's movements as he moves up the stairs with you in his arms. He presses a kiss to the crown of your head with a hushed noise, "Shh, go back to sleep."

He feels undeserving. You're too good to be true; so, the least he can do is to be as good to you as you are to him.

☆ CHILDE . . . tucks himself beside you, one arm lazily thrown over your body to bring you closer. "Ajax, you're sweaty," you stir in your sleep with a whine, recognizing your lover's warmth instantly. He puts on an offended frown, "I just got home and this is how I'm greeted?" Yet, that frown melts away in a second as he peppers your face with little kisses in between playful giggles. So much for being offended, huh?

Engaging in battles often leaves the Eleventh Harbinger with a hunger for more; he wishes his body is as cooperative as that mindset of his — but when he is with you, he can feel all that physical strain gnawing at his muscles washed away just by holding you like this.

Screw going to bed. Anything can be a bed as long as he has you in his arms, right? He's totally right on this one.

☆ ALBEDO . . . maneuvers his way quietly to you without a sound. A ripple of guilt swirls in his chest when the Chief Alchemist realizes that you've fallen asleep whilst waiting for him to return home. He contemplates waking you up, but he suddenly halts upon seeing the expression on your face — and Albedo can't help but smile fondly.

Whatever could you be dreaming about? He wonders. In the end, Albedo decides to take a seat across the couch, but his gaze not once leaves you. He feels like he can paint you in his mind again and again without ever feeling restless; and exactly that, he does until he, too, slowly drifts into slumber.

☆ ALHAITHAM . . . places his coat on top of you as a temporary blanket. "Your mulishness really knows no limits," he crosses his arms against his chest in exasperation. Alhaitham isn't someone who is fond of such romantic sentiments like foolishly sacrificing sleep to wait for your lover — but the gentleness in his movements, like the mindful hand of a researcher holding a fragile relic, as he takes off his coat to settle it over your figure almost proves otherwise.

Funny, Alhaitham isn't even trying to prove anything; see it however you want, but he doesn't want to be seen as a romantic whatsoever. He is just looking out for his partner, that is all.

─ ⊹ ⊱ ・・・・・・☆・・・・・・・⊰ ⊹ ─

✰ TAGLIST: @meimeimeirin @tsuk4sa-yug1 @hcikazu @catcze @semi-orangeapple @yuuki4646 @d-a-r-k-s-w-a-n @dearcalis @leon-to-sayaka — [ bolded names are unable to be tagged + register here to be a part of my taglist! ]

© SEELESTIA, oct 2022. do not repost, plagiarize, translate nor claim as your own.

[scekrex]

hey, hear me out, Adam with a reader with lots of tattoos, like, the WHOLE body, and Adam finds the reader really badass and try to do a tattoo too but he totally regrets it afterwards

Okay so reader's not only tattooed but also a self-taught tattoo artist bc I said so °^° I hope ya like Adam's breakdown over a shitty tattoo <3

He can fix it

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

Adam adored every single drop of ink that had been poked underneath your skin, even if he didn’t understand certain design choices, he loved your tattoos, thought they made you look badass.

And then one day you had gotten home from yet another appointment, heaven had two, maybe three tattoo studios and the only one near you was fucking shitty so getting a tattoo always went hand in hand with being gone for at least three days - yet it was always worth the travel because at least they did a good job. There was one little studio close to you, the artists weren’t nice, their work wasn’t good and every damn day you wondered how they managed to pay rent because there was simply no way people were actually getting tattooed there. But on the other hand it really wasn’t your place to judge because you had started just as shitty when you had started to learn the skill of tattooing. You hadn’t tattooed others though, only ever practiced on fake skin or your own body.

So when you got home from your latest appointment and proudly showed Adam your newest tattoo, the first man was quite surprised that it was related to him. You proudly flexed your forearm as you showed him the artwork of the battle ax version of his guitar that would now forever be on your skin. “You’re absolutely fucking insane, babes,” he wispered as his hand grabbed your wrist in order to pull your arm closer to his face to see the artwork up close. It was a super detailed image that left Adam breathless, he loved it so much. “This is fucking on point, and the blood sinner dripping from it? Holy fuck man.” You shot him a teasing grin as you pulled your arm back to grab the first man by his collar and pull him in, “So, when do ya get my weapon tattooed?” It wasn’t meant as an honest question, you knew Adam adored tattoos on your skin but getting inked up himself? He wasn’t so sure about it. The pain he would be able to handle without any problems, that wasn’t his deal at all. It was more about the design. And to be fair? Getting your halberd tattooed sounded like a great fucking idea in his ears. So he offered you an equally teasing smirk as he tilted his chin upwards and confidently replied, “I’m gonna make an appointment right fucking now.” You curiously raised an eyebrow at Adam, he had been so quick to decide for something so permanent? It wasn’t that the first man was against inking up his own skin - far from it actually, he had told you so often that he wanted tattoos too, but whenever you had offered to design him one he had backed out. So this decision came quite surprisingly. "You sure? Y’know that ya don’t have to-” “Oh shut your fucking mouth, I fucking know okay? "BUT I wanna.” His voice didn’t sound as confident anymore and you seriously questioned the decision he had just made. But if he was so sure about it, you would let him have some fun. He had to know what he was doing, that really wasn’t your place to tell him no.

-

Adam had made an appointment at the tattoo studio near your apartment, you had told him that their work lacked skill but he had simply ignored it, had told you that it’ll be fine. He simply was too lazy to travel so fucking far for something as simple as a tattoo, and seriosly how bad could it be?

Well, very fucking bad.

Because when the brunette opened the door to your shared apartment and his eyes met yours, you knew they had fucked up. There was disappointment in his expression, guilt for not listening to you and discomfort for what they had done to his body. They had ruined it, the lines were wobbly, the coloring was so inaccurate and the details of the carvings had been completely ignored, for fucks sake, Adam was sure a toddler would’ve done better.

You got up from the couch immediately, “Show me,” there was no excitement in your voice and the first man knew you were aware of the situation. “Fuck no,” Adam pressed his left forearm thightly against his chest, ignoring the pain that shot through his arm at the firm contact. His wings pushed you back a little as he wrapped them around you in order to feel protected - he was in pure discomfort. Why did he think going to that studio had been a good idea? You had informed him that their work wasn’t good, you had warned him. And he had actively decided to ignore that warning and now he would never be able to wear fucking short sleeved tops again. That’s how much he hated what they did to him. “Ain’t no fucking way I let you see this shit.” You sighed and your eyes softened a little, providing some comfort - you weren’t mad at Adam, why should you? But you guessed the way you had demanded to see the clearly fucked up tattoo made it seem like you were. “Adam, the tone of your voice matched the kindness your eyes offered and you gently reached for his wrist, “Show me so I can make a plan to fix it.”

His eyes shifted from the fresh tattoo that was covered by the sleeve of his robe to you and with a sigh he sunk his wings and extended his arm in your direction so that you could have a look. “They let you leave with that piece of shit on your skin?” you complained and looked at the LED expression his mask offered. “I’m here and that shit is on my arm, so yeah, they fucking did.” You guided him into the bedroom, letting him sit down on the bed. Your hands reached for his mask and carefully pulled it off his head, exposing his face, his eyes were filled with anger, sadness and regret. “Put on a shirt and a pair of sweatpants, calm yourself down a little and come to me when you’re ready okay?” You placed a quick kiss on the tip of his nose, “I’ll set up my tattoo needle and I’ll fix that mess for ya. Take all the time you need for that.” You were about to pull back and give him some space as he grabbed your wrist tightly and looked at you with wide eyes, “You can fix it?” You playfully rolled your eyes and shrugged, “Fuck yeah I can fix it bae.”

[klausysworld]

Hiii, love your work 🥰

I was wondering if you could write one where reader cuts himself and tries to hide it from Klaus, but after a bad night she does it again and the next day she puts on a sweatshirt to hide it, and while she's with Klaus he grabs that part of her arm and she shows pain, Klaus asks her what's wrong and she says that he grabbed her unexpectedly or grabbed her very hard but he's not convinced, the next day the same thing happens again and this time he comes back to ask what's wrong, but this time he insists that she tell him the truth, and she doesn't want to, so he lifts her sweatshirt and sees the cuts and then I leave it to your imagination.

it's okay if you don't feel comfortable writing this 💖

Trigger warning-Self Harm (please don’t read if you think it might upset you)

Don’t Suffer In Silence

Y/n had done well at keeping her marks hidden. Living in a house of Vampires and Hybrids didn’t make it easy which made her feel worse and more anxious but she still managed.

Dealing with the supernatural pressure and losing lives every other day was far too much on Y/n. She had struggled with self harm before the Mikaelsons anyway but with all the added drama she was spiralling fast.

Once again one of the vampires she had befriended became a casualty of everything going on between all the factions. Y/n had state back at the compound with Hope only to be told by a pissed off Marcel and then told to ‘get over it and stop being dramatic’.

Y/n still wasn’t used to the amount of death that surrounded her, not the way everyone else acted like it was normal.

Y/n had come to New Orleans when she received a call from her best friend Hayley. They had helped each other after Hayley got kicked out and Y/n had run away. Since then they both had each others back no matter what. Hayley had known that Y/n would hurt herself in the past but she had no idea that it was still something she went to as a source of relief. It had been years to Hayley’s knowledge so she wasn’t really paying any attention to the possibility.

But if Y/n was honest, she never really stopped in the first place. She never actually wanted to stop, she always had a little blade hidden somewhere ‘just in case’. She was always waiting for something awful to happen so she could feel like she had a valid reason to harm herself.

Y/n had thought things were taking a turn for the better when she and Klaus got closer. She still remembered the first time he kissed her, it was like a moment of peace for her heart and mind.

His touch was always so soft with her and she was grateful for that. They weren’t ‘together’ per say. They never actually confirmed their relationship, they just supported eachother when the other needed it. But Y/n didn’t think Klaus could help her with this. She assumed he would think it was pathetic or just give her that pitiful look.

Y/n always wore her long sleeved tops and if she didn’t then she’d have a jumper or jacket on, no matter what the weather. Of course all the vampires didn’t notice the heat much anyway so thankfully nobody questioned her choices. Everyone was to busy to anyway so even if they did notice, it wasn’t exactly a top priority.

Part of her was glad that she and Klaus weren’t in a confirmed relationship, it meant he didn’t get to see her scarred skin. It meant he never had the chance to touch her unless it was a brush of his hand or the occasional arm around her as a sign of protection. Every now and then he’d put his hand on hers when they sat beside eachother or something had happened that he caused and he would hold her hand gently as an apologetic gesture.

So she didn’t have much to worry about when it came to anyone finding out or caring much if they did.

It wasn’t like she didn’t get a lot of spare time. So she took advantage of her time alone, scavenged for her hidden blade and used it the only way she knew how.

Guilt flooded her after, but it was worth the few minutes of relief she felt before.

She locked herself in her room for the rest of the night, grateful that all the rooms had their own bathrooms.

She laid sprawled out in her bed in just a t-shirt, red wrists faced up as the cool air that flowed in from the window brushed over her skin. It was one of those rare times she fell asleep on her back and woke up in the same spot.

A harsh knocking at her door forced her eyes open and brain to kick start running.

“What?” She called out with a groan and Hayley’s voice rang straight back at her

“Can you stay here and look after Hope? I need to get to the bayou asap and everyone else is out at the moment.” She yelled back

“Yeah I’ll go to her room right away” she agreed while begrudgingly grabbing a cardigan.

Klaus and Elijah returned a few hours later to find Y/n facing the task of feeding a young Hope and having food flung across the floors.

Elijah let out a chuckle and went up to his reading room while Klaus approached the pair and helped settle his daughter.

Y/n assumed Klaus wouldn’t want her hovering over their heads and so went to go upstairs but his hand grabbed onto her wrist to stop her. She winced instantly and yanked her arm away from him making him frown

“What’s wrong?” He asked as he stood up from his seat and looked down at her forehead

“Nothing, you just grabbed me harder than I was ready for” she mumbled quietly before going to keep walking but he grabbed her wrist again just gentler. She bit down on her tongue and looked back at him. He looked at her for a moment before sitting down and tugging her with him

“Stay for a bit?” He started “Hopes games often require at least three people” he smiled and she mirrored his expression

“Yeah, of course” she agreed and lifted Hope onto her lap as Klaus’s arm slipped round her waist and his eyes dropped to the sleeve which threatened to show her skin but didn’t quite.

Klaus payed much closer attention to her actions and responses. She was quick to tug her sleeve down every few moments, even when they weren’t sliding up. When Hope would touch her arms or pull on her clothes then Y/n was looking more and more anxious and uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure what had happened, perhaps she had bruised herself and was embarrassed. Then he worried that one of the mikaelsons enemies had grabbed her too harshly and she hadn’t wanted to tell anyone. So he decided to let it go.

Until she continued to show signs of pain and discomfort for the several following days.

She was making pancakes for herself and Hope when he knocked her arm again, she inhaled deeply and he furrowed his brows as she moved her sleeve round a bit.

He watched as she put the first pancake on the plate and poured more of the batter onto the pan. He went to hold the base of her wrist to help her flip it better but she dropped the pan as soon as he got a grip she was pulling away and dropping the pan down with a loud clatter, he quickly turned the stove off to look at her

“Love, you need to tell me what’s going on” he murmured whilst trying to pull her hand toward him but she wouldn’t allow it

“Nothing, it’s fine” she muttered

“Well clearly something’s wrong” he mumbled, this time he pulled her arm with force making her stumble forward to him. Her eyes widened as he grabbed the end of her sleeve and went to tug it up

“Klaus stop it!” She yelled and smacked his hand with her spare one but he had already seen. His face fell slightly, confused flashing across him before his gaze softened and his eyes flicked to hers. She stared back at him horrified, her chest rose and fell rapidly and she hurriedly shoved past him.

“Y/n” he called softly as he followed her closely. She locked both her bedroom and bathroom door as she sat on the floor beside the bathtub. She breathed rapidly as she squeezed her hands together tightly and tried to think but before she had a chance to her door was swiftly broken in and Klaus was down on his knees before her. “Sweetheart” he murmured as he moved his arms under hers and lifted her as he stood once again.

She didn’t bother struggling as he brought her to his room and sat her down on his bed, his hands stroking the back of her hair. “I’m just going to get Elijah to look after Hope for a moment okay? I’ll be right back” he whispered with a kiss to her forehead

“Klaus it’s fine” she utter but he shook his head

“Just wait right here” he told her before speeding round the mansion.

She sighed heavily and ran her hands through her hair, once, twice, three times and then over and over until she was just pulling at it harshly.

Klaus quickly grabbed her hands hand rubbed the backs of them with his thumbs as he eased them away from her poor hair. Her face was bright red as she hiccuped on her cries in an attempt to silence them. He sat down on the bed and pulled her onto his lap

“It’s okay” he whispered softly “it’s okay” he repeated as he gently removed her jumper, leaving her in a t-shirt and showing him her arms. She couldn’t see his face when his eyes flicked to each and every line on her skin, some faded, some rather fresh and most in between. The pads of his fingers ever so lightly touched one or two of the raised lines, his lips pressed to the side of her head as she let out a sniff in response.

Y/n refused to look at him or herself, her face was turned to the side to stare at the art filled wall. She trailed her eyes over the different paintings while trying to ignore the feeling of his skin on hers. Her eyes shut when she felt something soft touch on of the cuts on her wrist, something warm and a tiny bit wet. The feeling came again and again, her eyes looked to find the source on the tingle against her flesh.

A tear fell down she face as she watched Klaus swap between her left and right forearms to kiss the newer marks on her skin.

He leaned back to look at her face once he was finished, seeing the shame and the guilt shine within her glossy eyes. His hand stroked the hair away from her face as his lips pressed to hers gently, he stroked the back of her neck and the top of her back as he kisses her softly. She pulled back as more tears dropped from her lashes but he wouldn’t let her turn away.

“Do you have any idea how much you mean to me sweetheart?” He whispered as he brushed his warm hands over her face. “You can always come to me my love” he murmured “don’t suffer in silence”

She sniffed as she leaned forward to press her forehead against his chest making him wrap his arms around her mid section and pepper kisses to the top of her head

“You’re going to sleep in my bed tonight okay?” He whispered

“It’s the morning” she mumbled back “you have to go settle a deal with the witches and-“

“Do you want me to stay? I can stay home today and be with you and Hope” he offered but she shook her head

“I don’t want you to worry and stay here just because I’ll do some stupid” she told him and his frown deeper and he hugged her tighter

“I can’t help but worry Y/n. Not that what’s happening is stupid but because you’re hurt. I never want anyone to hurt you, not even yourself and I will worry whether you like it or not but I’d rather be able to help you so that I don’t have to and so that you don’t feel you should turn to this” he explained gently

“I can’t help it” she whispered and he nodded

“You don’t want to stop” he uttered and she nodded subtly. He rest his chin on top her head as he thought for a moment, his hands gently rubbing her back.

“I’ve tried to” she sniffed “but I just can’t”

“It’s okay” he told her. “We’ll find a way okay? For now, whenever you want or need to hurt yourself, you call me okay? I’ll find a way to help you no matter where I am, what I’m doing.” He promised and her brows pulled together

“Why would you do that?” She asked weakly and he smiled slightly, not that she could see his face.

“Because I love you and I care too much to let you live in pain” he told her softly. “One day, I’ll kiss every inch of you whether it’s scarred or not” he whispered and took a deep breath as she held onto him a little tighter.

She stayed quiet, in his arms, not sure of what to tell him. But he didn’t need to hear her say anything, he just wanted her to know he was there.

Eventually they went back downstairs, she put her jumper back on so the other didn’t see but Klaus kept her by it on him at all times, made sure she ate and then they went back up to his room so she could lay down with him spooning her to keep her warm and safe.

Y/n wasn’t sure what would happen tomorrow or the days after that but she hoped Klaus would keep to his word and be there if she should need him.

(One could hope for a reaction like this😐🫤)

[yandreamings]

RELATIONSHIP RED FLAGS IN BSD MEN…!

Inspired by this! Thank you for allowing me to take inspiration from your lovely work.

Content warnings: Abusive/toxic relationships, yandere, manipulation, generally terrible men, these are not healthy relationships.

Characters included: Dazai Osamu, Nakahara Chuuya, Nakajima Atsushi, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, Kunikida Doppo, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Nikolai Gogol, Sigma.

[DAZAI LIES TO YOU.] Where to start with this guy… really, he’s a walking red flag, isn’t he? Well, he’s handsome, he’s outgoing, and he’s funny, so what’s not to love? In your eyes, everything is perfectly fine- you have a normal, happy, caring boyfriend who would never do anything wrong. Guess what? False information! Dazai has lied to you from the day you first met. About his job, about his past, hell, even about his hobbies and favourite colour. He liked you from the beginning, and knew he didn’t want to let you slip away, so he has to do this. He’s so good at it that you’re none the wiser, too. You adore him and see him as the perfect partner, just what he wanted. People who actually know Dazai give you weird looks whenever you praise him so highly, but it doesn’t matter to you. You love him, and he loves you! So, what’ll happen when you’re confronted with the truth? When you realize your lover has blatantly lied to your face about nearly everything?

[CHUUYA IS POSSESSIVE.] If I were being honest, a relationship with Chuuya would be great. He’s caring, respectful, and knows how to treat you, so it’s wonderful! Except for the fact that he’s pulled a gun on every single other man who has tried to look at you. And shanked someone who was trying to hit on you at a bar. And never lets you out of his sight whenever you’re out with him. Or in general. So... maybe not that great. But can you blame him? He’s lost so much in his short life, knowing nothing but loss and pain, but then you come along! He doesn’t realize he has this issues, either- or maybe he just doesn’t care. He’s not going to stop anytime soon and he won’t let anyone touch what belongs to him. Chuuya spoils you rotten and makes sure you know that you’re loved, but can you deal with an iron grip on your waist and a harsh glare at anyone who dares to try and speak to you?

[ATSUSHI WORHIPS YOU LIKE A DEITY.] Poor, poor Atsushi... all he wants is for someone to love him, and how that he’s finally found you, his beloved, his most treasured person, he wants to make sure you know just how much he adores you. Some people don’t say I love you enough, but Atsushi says it a bit too much. It’s kind of cute at first, with all the gifts and his endearing, flushed cheeks as he tells you he loves you, but it doesn’t take long for things to go awry. At 5am sharp, he spams you with messages, ranging from ‘Good morning, have a good day today!’ to ‘Please text me back. Please. I miss you. I hope you’re okay. Please. I love you.’ You can’t catch a break with him, to be honest. He’s so in love with you that it creeps your friends out; some of them have told you that they catch him staring at you from behind a corner whenever you’re out with them. If you ever try to break up with him, prepare to be guilt-tripped by his wobbling lips and tears eyes. Don’t leave him- you can’t, you’d never do something like that, right? He loves you so much, don’t you see?

[AKUTAGAWA WANTS TO OWN YOU.] Akutagawa has no idea what he’s doing when it comes to dating and love. He knows he gets a weird, funny feeling in his chest whenever you touch him or smile at him, but he still doesn’t get it. And... why do you think you can talk to other men? Or other people? Is he not good enough? Sometimes, he swears that one day he’s just going to take you and keep you in his home for only him to see and talk to. Honestly, it doesn’t even strike him as something that’s wrong- you’re his, aren’t you? You swore to him that you’d never betray him or do anything so outrageous, so the best way to do that is take you as his own, permanently. He won’t care if you scream and cry and make a big fuss, he has his own ways of shutting you up, so do what you want. It won’t stop him.

[KUNIKIDA IS CONTROLLING.] Fork spotted in the kitchen, am I right? Kunikida is a man who knows what he wants when he wants it, and that pertains to you as well. You need to be awake at the same time as him, dressed to his standards, work hard at your job, eat according to his meal plans, and make time for dates, too. It get super exhausting super quickly, but if you bring it up, he makes it seem like you’re the bad guy here, that he’s just trying to help you be your best self, so you stay. He genuinely loves you and wants what’s best for you, so just let him do this, okay? He knows he can be hard on you (understatement), but it’s all in good faith. Also, make sure to brush your teeth better next time at 9pm sharp, long enough after dinner. He can see that you haven’t been doing it good enough lately. Don’t make him come and watch you.

[FYODOR THINKS YOU’RE INFERIOR TO HIM.] This is kind of a given, isn’t it? If you’ve managed to be manipulated into a relationship with Fyodor, congratulations! You’re going to develop the inferiority complex of the decade. It’s not that he tells you he thinks he’s better than you, it’s in his actions. If you go to a restaurant, he orders for you and doesn’t let you speak to the waiter; you might mess it up again! Come on, he can do it for you, don’t be silly. He picks out your clothes for you; no offense, but you’ve never had the best taste, darling, and he knows what you look good in anyway. He never listens to anything you have to say unless you’re telling him how much you love him or something similar. The way he likes you is at his beck and call, so if you’re not into being treated like a subhuman lover, then I’d run away if I were you.

[NIKOLAI NEVER TAKES YOU SERIOUSLY.] This dude takes the word clown to a whole new level when it comes to your relationship. It’s fun at first; all of your dates are exciting, he’s always got something up his sleeve to impress you, and he seems like a great guy (except for all the atrocities, but that’s for another day) for the most part. However, if you bring up a concern to him, relationship-related or not, he scoffs, brushes you off, and acts like nothing happened. That, or he ridicules you like nothing else. Even if you’re crying your eyes out, begging him to take something seriously, he only laughs, saying you look super cute when you’re crying. He’s quite sadistic, if you can’t tell, so he’ll probably add insult to injury and make fun of you if you push him further. 

[SIGMA ALWAYS TRIES TO APPEASE YOU.] Okay, this doesn’t sound so bad on the surface, but Sigma will not argue with you or have difficult conversations. Ever. You want to have a serious talk with him? Ah, he’s busy, but he’ll bring you home a gift after work! He did something you don’t like? Don’t get made, please, how about he takes you out to dinner? He’s avoidant to the core when it comes to you, only because he knows there are more experienced guys out there who know what they’re doing, and you could leave him for one of them any day, but especially if he says the wrong thing during an argument. So he just... doesn’t have them! Simple, right? Yeah, not so much. It’s all smiles and rainbows according to Sigma, and he outright refuses to listen to any separation or break talk. It’s just not necessary, you know? Why waste time getting angry when he could get you a shiny new necklace, or that outfit he knows you’ve been eyeing? Good luck with that attitude, buddy.

[naids4luv]

BALLING INTO LOVE : chp 6 - i did it😁

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(wc : 1629)

apparently peace was a hard thing to find when it came to anything that had Lee Donghyuck in the picture. you just wanted to enjoy your coffee in peace before your long and excruciating lecture that morning, but it seemed that Haechan had other plans. how he found you alone at a park was a question that came to your mind, and with his staring it sure as hell felt like a new torture method he had come up with. 

surely he would keep his distance and stick to staring at you, more specifically staring at the large bruised bump that lays upon your forehead. the bump being a result of yours and Haechans first... encounter. but once again, Lee fucking Donghyuck had other plans.

you're determined to stick to a lack of eye contact with him, praying and hoping he would go away after seeing your eyes looking at everything BUT him. however Haechan doesn’t take social cues too well, at least social cues where he is clearly not welcomed. but still, to your surprise you see Haechan taking large strides your way with an unreadable look on his face. this was not what you were expecting to happen today… or ever.

you quickly whip out your phone, posting a distressed tweet on your private twitter in hopes your friends would see and somehow save you, you highly doubt it though. as you put your phone down and look up to see how much time you have until Haechan arrives, you're shocked to see him standing right in front of you with his hands in his pockets and his eyes staring intensely into yours.

a moment passes where both of you haven’t uttered a word, both unsure about the situation. you unsure on what Haechan wants from you and him unsure of how to start the conversation. another moment passes as you both continue to stare at each other, your body starting to fill with an uncomfortable and impatient feeling. you think to yourself ‘if he doesn’t want to say anything, you may as well’.

“what?” you ask as you cross your arms over your chest. ‘well, that sounded a bit rude’ you thought to yourself as you see Haechan take a step back at your blunt tone. but then again, he did hit you in the head with a basketball… three times. he also got his friend to apologize for him, thinking back on that you feel less bad about your harsh tone towards him. 

Haechan blinks innocently a few times before producing the most heart warming smile you didn't even know he was capable of. “hi” he says as he continues to smile, eyes wondering all over your face and taking in your appearance. however his eyes pause as he looks at the bump on your head, smile faltering before looking back into your eyes.

“hi..?” you say, what else are you meant to say? you're not the one who started this situation. you feel a little self conscious knowing that he has been eyeing up your forehead bump. it's his fault though, it's better to show him what he did to you rather than to cover it up. ‘hopefully that brings him some guilt’ you think as you lightly brush over your bump, making sure not to cause any more pain than you're already dealing with.

you focus back on Haechan and observe the way he scratches the back of his neck nervously before opening his mouth to speak. “I saw you sitting alone and thought it would be better to do this now than later” he explains. 'do what?' you question in your head, however before you can question his words outloud, he continues talking. “just hear me out for a minute.. please” he might as well be begging right now with how desperate he sounds, you guess you can at least sit and listen.

“I truly didn't mean to hurt you the way I did, honest! I had convinced Chenle to play some basketball with me and shoot some hoops. at one point I shot the ball and it rebounded off the backboard and flew behind me and as I looked behind me I watched as the ball hit someone in the head, which I guess happened to be you. I hadn’t even realized you and your friends came to the courts as well, I promise it wasn’t on purpose. and then I didn't expect you to throw the ball to me so I got scared and… hit the ball back towards you, which also wasn't on purpose I swear! and then when I grabbed the ball I went to come towards you to ask if you were ok and I went to reach my arms out towards you and well.. the ball slipped” Haechan rambled on as his hands were flying all around the place, showing how intense he was feeling over this topic.

you kept a straight face as you listened to everything Haechan had to say, taking it all in as his words spilled out. once it seemed like Haechan had finished, you opened your mouth to speak but once again Haechan cut you off. 

“I only had good intentions, I swear!... and I guess also bad luck” he said as he winced at the replaying vision of him hitting you with the ball “I’m so sorry, I truly am. I can do anything in order to show you how sorry I am, I'll even beg for forgiveness” he speedily said as he began to lower himself to the ground in order to kneel.

your eyes widened as you realized he was actually about to kneel before you, now that was absolutely not about to happen. you stood up from the park bench and grabbed Haechan by the forearms before yanking him upwards and away from the ground in one fast motion. once he was fully standing you whipped your head around your surroundings, checking to see if anyone saw this idiot about to kneel before you.

“Y/n i’m so sorry-” he continues to talk before you cut him off. “yes Haechan i get it, please stop apologizing now” you said as your arms shake his body back and forth encouraging him to stop his rambling, to which he does. you drop your arms from Haechan and let out a loud sigh before speaking up once again. 

“thank you… for apologizing i guess” you start off by saying, watching as Haechan’s eyes widen and his smile grows at your words. “however I don’t forgive you just yet”.

as soon as those words left your mouth you watch as shock washes over Haechans face in an instant, confused by your sudden harshness. “what?” he whispers as he processes your words, not knowing where this conversation is going.

“as you can see I still have this stupid fucking bruised bump, which is all thank to you” You let out a quiet giggle as Haechan’s eyes drift over to the bump on your forehead. “I won't forgive you until this bump is fully gone since you caused it, so for now you aren’t forgiven” you continue to explain, not knowing where these words were coming from. it would've been easier to forgive him and leave, so why are you doing all this?

but to your surprise, Haechan’s shocked face slowly changes into an amused expression as he takes in all of your words. he even lets out a laugh after a few seconds, confusing and shocking you even further. whats so amusing about you not forgiving him?

“well then, i guess I'll just have to make it up to you while your bump is healing” he says, providing no more explanation as he admires the confused look that has taken its place on your face. 

you stand still for a moment. What does he mean ‘make it up to you’? you skim your eyes over his face, hoping your overly confused look would encourage him to explain his previous words. but all you can find is a bright smile and his eyes gazing into yours. you come back to your senses and reply to him, “good luck with that”.

as you wait for a reply back from the man in front of you, who is currently too happy in this kind of situation, you watch as he settles on giving you one last smile before walking away from you.

you feel the urge to run after him and get him to spill out the explanation behind his words, but running after him would be the most embarrassing thing you could do in that situation, so you decide against it. watching as he slowly disappears from your view as you stand in the exact place he just was mere seconds ago, your thoughts are racing all over the place.

in a confused daze you grab your phone only to be met with the time, showing you that your lecture was only 2 minutes away from starting. 'how long were we even talking for?' you question as you make your way towards you class.

as you sit down in your usual seat, the only thoughts that seem to make an appearance are Haechan and his cryptic words. you can’t seem to get rid of these thoughts, even when your 2 hour long lecture comes to an end and even when you have already made it back to your dorms. deciding to yourself that whenever Haechan is around or in topic, you will take high precautions as to not be messed with once again, accident or not.

but there’s one thought that doesn’t seem to leave your brain, even hours after the encounter; what could Lee Donghyuck possibly mean by ‘make it up to you’?

notes : this is my first time posting a written thing like this SO I APOLOGISE IF ITS NOT THAT GOOD. i just wanted to go into more detail for this part of the fic, which i why i chose to write it😽 it was actually really fun too write this, i forget how much i love writing, might write some more stuff cause i really enjoyed this🤭🙏 also sorry to those who don't like reading😭

taglist : @haechansbbg @alethea-moon @heartlvrrss @222brainrot @i-kai @tywritesstuff @liliansun @90s-belladonna @fullsunstrawberry @xtrataerrestrial @ahnneyong @n0hyuck @jongszn @artstaeh @polarisjisung @jammingjaem

[billthedrake]

BIRD IN THE HAND (PART THREE)

The whole thing had brought John Riccardi and his brother closer, actually. They'd always gotten along and both being in the Bureau was a bond. But they had different personalities. Paul had always been driven for leadership and his identity was tied into the power and prestige of the position. John on the other hand preferred working in the field and not having to deal as much with bureau politics. Paul was more quiet and reserved, John was super outgoing.

But they knew each other's secret now.

As John walked into the restaurant bar, he could see Paul sitting in front of a double scotch, texting on his phone. He wondered what Cole had seen in the man. Beyond the handsome Italian Riccardi looks. Paul was older and grayer but was still in pretty good shape. John wondered if Cole had gone for Paul's quietly gruff demeanor, or maybe it was just Paul's rank in the Bureau that drew the kid. Maybe that political BS was worth putting up with if it had that effect on men.

It had been three weeks now, since Paul had called John up and admitted what happened. "I wasn't gonna tell you, John, but I figured you should know," the older brother had said, his voice heavy with emotion and guilt.

Things had been good between him and Cole. The incident was just the kick in the pants John needed to step up his game and get serious. The two had gotten closer, more open and vulnerable with each other, but John sensed something was off. It wasn't jealousy speaking, he just sensed Cole got something out his time with Paul that John wasn't delivering.

Paul looked up from his phone just as John was stepping up. The FBI honcho got out of his seat and gave his brother a quick hug. "Hi," he greeted laconically. John laughed inwardly at how laconic his big bro could be. It certainly wasn't his gift of gab that had appealed to Cole Walker.

"Hey," John replied. "You been waiting long? I though maybe a later time would work better for you."

"Yeah, busy day," Paul said, sitting back down. "You busy these days?"

As John sat in the available seat next to his brother, they shared shop talk. Paul didn't unload all ins-and-outs of his job but it was fun to confide in his little bro, and he always felt John's insight was a conduit for the perspective in the field.

They ordered their food and John his beer, and talked until a pause opened up in their conversation.

Paul seemed like he had something he'd been planning to say. "I didn't thank you before, but I wanted to say thanks for keeping everything under wraps.... you know, with Linda."

John hadn't felt great about that part of this. He liked his sister-in-law, and more than that liked being the outgoing Uncle John when he came over for Sunday dinners or holidays.

"Yeah, I'm not gonna blab," he said. He lowered his voice some. "You know, with your position and all... well, you always looked after me growing up, I guess it's time for me to return the favor."

Paul smiled. "For what it's worth, I'm pretty sure Linda knows. Though I think she thinks I'm fucking women on the side."

"Jesus," John exclaimed but couldn't help laughing at his big brother's chutpzah.

Paul shrugged, like he expected that reaction. "You probably think I'm a heel."

John did, some, but also loved his brother. "It's all complicated. I should have been honest with you," he said. Then with a shy look he added, "I've decided to be honest now, actually."

"You mean...?"

John nodded. "I'm not gonna be draping a pride flag, or anything, but I'm gonna ask Cole to move in with me. If he does, everyone's gonna know. The whole Bureau is gonna know."

Paul felt proud of his little brother. If some good came out of this whole mess, it would have been worth it. "Well, if you face any trouble there, let me know," he said in his executive tone. Reading John's reaction, he added, "Yeah, yeah, I know how to be fucking subtle with this shit. Just know I still have your back, too."

"Thanks, Paul," John said, touched. He hoped nothing bad would happen at his job. Hell it was 2023, not 1983. Still, it was a comfort to have someone looking out for him in the FBI, even if it was driven by nepotism, something he always avoided ever since Paul Ricciardi climbed the ranks to higher leadership.

"Any time," Paul said. He took a sip of his scotch and got a conspiratorial grin. "So it sounds like you're serious with this Cole kid."

John smiled and nodded. "Head over heels, bro."

"Well, I guess I've crossed enough lines so far to say that you've scored a hot one all right."

John wasn't sure he liked the leer on Paul's face but it was also cool to have Cole's utter appeal recognized. They could share this as a bond. He still didn't fully know Paul's deal. When John told his brother he was entirely and fully gay, Paul said it was more a bisexual side release thing for him. Maybe that helped defuse the tension over Cole. Paul didn't have any emotional bond or designs on the young man, not like John did.

"So..." John asked, "Maybe this is weird to ask, but are you moving on to another guy?"

Paul chuckled. "We'll see." He took a sip of scotch. "It's definitely an itch I enjoy scratching, you know? It's just, after Cole, anyone else is gonna fall short." His brown eyes met his brother's paler eyes for a second. "I'm gonna respect you brother, but I'll admit I'm already going through withdrawals a little bit."

John gulped. "Come on, Paul," he said. They'd been getting along well, surprisingly well considering all that had happened. And now that sibling rivalry was rearing itself again.

Paul patted his brother's back. "I know, I know. I'll be hands off, I promise. But I swear I've never met a kid as hot as him who could take it so HARD, you know?" His voice was quiet, almost a whisper but hard edged at the same time.

"Hard?" John asked. Jealous wasn't making him angry now, so much as embarrassed. Hurt.

Paul leaned back in his bar seat. "Yeah, you know, the kind of dude you can really tear into and he'll beg for more."

"Jesus," John hissed. He looked into his brother's face to see if Paul was bullshitting him. But his big bro looked sincere as hell. "You a dom or something?" Paul didn't quite comprehend, so he added. "You know, like S and M...."

Paul shook his head no. "Nah, nothing like that." He could see in John's reaction that he wasn't as hard-charging with that Cole hottie. "Listen... I know it's not my place but... well, you should manhandle that kid some. It'll drive him fucking wild.... trust me on this, bro."

John took it all in. The knowledge he was gaining about his boyfriend. Cole had seemed to get into the steamier sex lately. John had chalked it up to variety, but maybe there was more to it than that. He was chubbing up in his khakis. "You sure?" he asked.

"100 percent," Paul replied.

John blushed. "Um... this may be weird... but could you give me some pointers?"

"It's weird as fuck," Paul said as he patted John's back against and leaned in to describe some of the things that drove Cole Walker wild.

As their dinner arrived, they changed the topic of conversation. But the thought of Cole stuck in Paul's mind. The hottie that got away. Hell, if he couldn't rail that kid's ass, at least his brother could enjoy himself.

****

It had been an amazing evening so far. John and Cole didn't go to a restaurant. Instead John offered to cook in.

Personally, Cole loved seeing the federal agent in more casual, form-fitting clothes. Just a warn FBI academy t-shirt and some gym shorts. "I feel overdressed," Cole laughed when he walked in.

"I figured we'd be out of our clothes eventually, right, sexy?" John asked, stepping up for a kiss. It wasn't a chaste peck but he was saving the full-on making out till later.

They ate dinner and they talked. John asked a lot about Cole's work. He's tried to be better about that, listening and not just unloading his day, his week on the younger guy. John cleared the table afterwards and insisted Cole just relax.

"Dessert later?" he asked as he walked back to the dining table. He pulled up a chair, his eyes fixing on Cole's cute-handsome face. "I got something to ask you, buddy. And feel free to be honest. But what do you think about moving in?"

He paused as Cole reacted.

"For real?" the 23-year old asked.

John nodded. "Totally. Fuck, I mean, I know you have your lease and we're still getting more serious. So if it's not right away that's cool. But I'm ready when you are, stud."

"Yeah, I guess there's that," Cole reflected. "But damn I want this, John. Maybe in a couple of months, but let's do it."

John was beaming. "Dude, you don't know how happy I am, buddy."

A thought occurred to Cole. "This mean you're coming out?"

"Pretty much," John admitted. "I'm ready for what the brings. If you are."

Cole nodded. "You know, I think it's a big deal for me, too. Maybe more than I've admitted."

John leaned in a little bit. This guy was so attractive, he just wanted to kiss Cole, bad. "The age thing?" he ventured.

"Yeah, that," Cole replied sheepishly. "Sorry."

John patted the ex-jock's knee. "Buddy don't be sorry. It's a real thing. We'll figure out what works for both of us, OK?"

Cole felt dumb. He's hand his dream fantasy handed to him on a silver platter - a hunk daddy of a federal agent wanting a relationship in addition to hot sex - and here he was the one throwing doubt on it. "OK," he muttered.

John's hand nudged Cole's chin, pulling it up to meet his gaze. "I'm serious, bud. If you moving in is the right thing, awesome, otherwise, we'll make it work."

Cole smiled. This guy knew what to say. He saw a look flit across John's face. "What?" he asked.

John leaned back and nodded down. "I'm afraid my little man has a mind of his own." Indeed there was that thick Ricciardi cock sticking up and forming a tent in the gym shorts.

"Wow," Cole hissed. He loved seeing that dick and loved that he had this effect on the FBI hunk.

John stood up and with an uncharacteristic forwardness, just pulled off those shorts, stepping out of them and letting that hardon stick up urgently. "Think we can go long with the foreplay tonight?" he hissed. He stepped up to Cole's seat, guiding that hard dong to his boyfriend's face.

"Yeah I think we can," Cole smiled, then began licking John's hard meat. It felt heavier than normal, fatter, too as the young Congressional staffer wrapped his lips around it and began suckling at the tip.

"Oh damn, that's nice," John, hissed, hands on his waist as he looked down and let Cole explore. Exploring turned into cock worship, which turned in to sucking. John did a couple of mental tricks to keep from shooting, and edged Cole's head off a couple of times while he cooled down.

"You sure you don't want me to suck you off tonight?" Cole asked. He'd come prepped and ready to bottom, but it had been a while since he'd sucked John off and tasted that lawman's sperm. He'd happily do it now.

John peeled off his T-shirt. He'd trimmed his fur for the occasion. It was still thick on his chest and taut belly but the manscaping showed off the muscle definition more. Tossing it aside he flexed his arm a little for Cole's benefit. "Sure I'm sure," he replied. "I'm not ready to end this yet. Come on," he urged, taking Cole's arm to help him up. He patted the young dude's rump playfully as they made their way back to the master bedroom. The lube was set out and the covers already turned down. John got onto the bed while he watched Cole strip off. He patted the mattress. "Face down, buddy... I wanna eat you out some."

Cole grinned. He had to admit that when they first started hooking up, Cole didn't enjoy the long rim jobs that John loved to give. But in the right mood, they were incredible now. He did as asked, stretching out on the bed and hiking his round bubble ass up.

John's strong hands pried them apart and dove in.

"God yeah, sir..." Cole hissed. "Lick my hole."

The federal agent did that and more. He licked, sucked, prodded and tasted Cole's fresh asshole, getting off on the oral-anal contact and the soft, almost soapy scene of Cole's body.

Cole rode the sensations. It was almost torture having John eat him out for so long, but he knew it would just make their fuck that much hotter.

At last John pulled back and gripped Cole's waist to guide him to flip over. The bottom complied, and once his hard dick was revealed, John was on it, softly sucking Cole. Not a pro blowjob, but it didn't have to be. This was more of the foreplay John liked. Connecting with this hottie and extending out the sex.

John licked Cole's balls, shaved smooth, then ran his tongue down the perineum. The ex soccer jock got the hint, pulling his strong legs back and letting John munch some more.

This time, the law man didn't take long. He leaned up and hurried reached for some lube. No fingering this time, John Ricciardi just dabbed some of the slick stuff along Cole's pucker then greased up his thick pole, which he nudged down into place.

"Unf," Cole hissed, savoring that quick penetration. He and John had been working on that. How to push the envelope a little without causing real discomfort. The movie-start-handsome agent smiled down.

"Back in ya, buddy... feels nice."

"Damn... I love your dick, sir."

"I can tell," John replied, eyes twinkling. "Your ass is practically kissing my cock, making love to it."

Cole tried to focus on his insides to control what he was doing, and adjust his grip on that Ricciardi prick. But it was of no use, this stuff came instinctively to Cole Walker, a body reflex that combined with his psychological need.

John pushed in, all the way in, slow but sure, his eyes meeting Cole's. "Gonna fuck you, stud.... fuck you all night." It was a wild boast, and both men knew John couldn't live up to it. But both men knew he'd try.

That fat cock tapped into its deepest point for just a half second before it rebounded out. Then in again. An again.

"Fuck me," Cole grunted. "Yeah, like that."

John wasn't going hard, but he was putting some muscle to each inward thrust. Stretching out that jock hole with regular shoves.

It made Cole's dick jerk and leak on his six pack abs. Maybe he wouldn't need to touch it to get off this time, but he told himself he wasn't gonna focus on that. He wanted to enjoy this fuck, and it didn't matter if he jerked while John Ricciardi nailed him or not.

The agent was getting more into, eyes getting wilder, hips getting faster. Almost possessive in his topping. Then he stopped.

"I wanna do you from behind, sexy," he hissed.

"Yeah?" Cole asked. They'd tried different positions, sure, but John was always a missionary man. He said seeing Cole's face and reactions was what usually got him off.

John was already pulling back, his fat dick slick with lube. "Come on, bud... I'm so fucking horny for ya."

Cole smiled. This guy could be a porn star, maybe with a longer dick, only porn stars usually didn't usually look this hot. Just seeing this muscle-cop daddy in heat had the 20-something dude ready to put out. "Yeah," he hissed, scrambling to get on all fours.

He felt John approach him from behind and expected a slow steady entry.

Instead that fat cock barreled right in. It knocked a little wind out of Cole, only because it was so sudden. Already John was leaning in, covering Cole's strong back tightly and wrapping an arm possessively around Cole's neck.

"Open up for Daddy," John grunted. "That's it."

His tone was soft and cooing, rather than commanding, but immediately, Cole knew. Paul Ricciardi had said something to his brother. Maybe a lot of things. Because John was pounding the young stud now, roughly, quickly as his wrestler hold grew tighter.

BAM. BAM. BAM.

John's hips were putting the man's strength and cardio stamina to good use. "I know ya want it. Take Daddy's cock, buddy."

BAM. BAM. BAM.

Cole's hand now clutched at John's forearm. It was so tight now. He felt the man's tongue lick his neck.

"Dude, I'm not gonna choke you. Just making sure you don't get away. Making sure you take this."

BAM. BAM. BAM.

No hands and no choice in the matter. Cole was cumming, hard, on that piledriving cock. He sprayed all over John's sheets just as his support arm gave out and he fell onto the wet bed. John kept fucking away, entering his own orgasm now.

The lockhold eased but the agent still used it for leverage to put his whole body into it. Fifteen seconds of hard pounding and he was loading up Cole Walker pretty full.

Cole almost instantly felt the man's muscled body relax on top of him, the weight now bearing down as both men breathed heavily in sync and caught their breath.

"Goddamn, buddy," John hissed. "Please tell me I didn't go too hard."

"You didn't go too hard," Cole replied. "At all. Fuck."

John was now kissing softly along Cole's neck, regaining the strength to lift his weight up some, but his dick still very firm and buried inside this perfect young man. He'd pull out when Cole told him to or when he got soft. Until then, he wasn't gonna.

"I guess I've been too gentle in the bedroom," he apologized.

Cole leaned back into John's chest, wanting to maximize the body contact and let John know how much he craved this, this moment, almost as much as the orgasm itself. "I like that, too, Sir... only... Fuck."

Another soft kiss. "Daddy's got ya buddy. Just tell me what you need."

Cole nodded, only he let out a soft, sexy laugh. "Dude, I didn't need to tell ya. You just gave it to me."

That got a matching chuckle from John. "I'm glad." He pushed his dick back in deep into Cole's guts. And again. John wasn't sure he was ready to fuck again, not for real, but this was about the emotional connection as much as the fuck need. "Tell me, Mr. Walker... how did I compare to him?"

Cole knew exactly who he meant. "Come on, babe," he objected.

The dick pressed inside him again, more forcefully. John's voice wasn't angry, not in the least. But it was calm and resolute. "I want the truth, buddy. Do I fuck you as good as he did?"

Cole took a deep breath. "John... it was like I had Paul and you at the same time, rolled into one man. It was intense."

John gave Cole's neck another soft kiss. "I'll take that, buddy. And thanks. Thanks for telling me." He thrusts in gently now but with full strokes. "Is this getting too much?"

"A little," Cole admitted. His insides felt very tender now, and his hole a little numb. John had gone at it pretty hard. "But Paul wouldn't have asked me that."

"Right," John replied. Like he was a school kid corrected on an assignment. He stretched out over Cole's naked body, not pressing the full weight down but close, as he gripped Cole's wrists and held tight.

He didn't speak now, he just started fucking Cole Walker harder.

[starlightandfairies]

Drinking Buddies ~Damon Salvatore~

Description: Damon and reader share stories over a couple of drinks.

Warnings: she/her pronouns, fluff, angst, mentions of drinking, writing gets lazy at the end

Key: Y/N = Your Name, POV = Point of view

Word Count: 729

First Person POV

"So, I see a closed bar is where all buried guilt-ridden people come." I rolled my eyes once I heard his voice, it was not the voice I wanted to hear in this moment and I could practically feel his smirk radiating in the room. 

"Damon. Pleasure to see you again." I spoke, putting the glass of bourbon to my lips, placed it on the bar counter and swivelled around to face the cocky vampire. 

"What guilt is eating at you?" 

"I thought you said I have buried guilt? I have no guilt..." I denied, pouring myself another drink and pouring one for Damon as well. He took the glass, sitting beside me, clinking his glass with me and forced me to stare at him. 

"That is what guilt-ridden people do who hide their pain, we deflect." 

"This is talking from experience, yeah?" I taunted, raising an eyebrow as Damon chuckled lowly, the man made a face and waited to hear how he would deny what I said. 

"Oh, yeah... I am talking from experience." I looked at Damon surprised, I didn't expect him to admit that, he smirked once again and pulled my chair closer to him. 

"What? Didn't expect me to admit to that?" 

"No, I didn't but good on you, Damon you're growing as an immortal person." 

"Come on, talk to me, I'm a great listener when I want to be. I know I don't make it seem like it's true but I do care and you don't seem like you're enjoying yourself. So what happened?" I took a breath, shrugging slightly and made a sound as Damon took the glass from my hand.

"You don't get this back until you talk, so talk." 

"Fine, Damon... with everything going on, it's just hard to adjust to sometimes. I feel like I'm still in shock at times, like when do we get a break? When is someone not dying? I'm so sick and tired of all of this. I hate it. As much as I love all this supernatural crap that exists, there are times when I wish I didn't know so I didn't have this guilt on my shoulders knowing that so many people have died because of the baddies we deal with or people are dead because we had to kill them to survive." 

He passed me back my glass, rubbing my shoulder, as I took a drink and seemed to be trying to formulate a plan to offer some kind of comfort. 

"Look, I'll be honest, there are times when I wish the same. I wonder what my life would've been like if I hadn't met Katherine and if I hadn't become this but then despite the years of terrible things I have done. I got to meet the wonderful person that is right in front of me. So I don't know about you but I think that's a pretty good outcome." 

I was speechless for a moment, I couldn't hide the smile that he managed to conjure up.

"Thank you, that's nice of you to say." 

"Have you ever considered being a vampire?" Damon asked, I shrugged my shoulders for a brief moment, already knowing the answer before he even asked it. 

"I would want to be a vampire." I simply smiled but Damon could read the underlining statement hanging in the air. 

"But you want to have a kid." 

"Yeah, but there's always adoption if I become a vampire first." 

"Nice way to look at it." 

I couldn't take the depressing conversations any longer, I hopped over the counter and grabbed Damon's favourite bourbon and mine as well. I yelped as I crashed into Damon's chest as he suddenly appeared in front of me. 

"What can I do for you?" 

"Go on a date with me." 

"Can this not be our date right now?" 

"It certainly can be." We shared stories over drinks; Damon told me the adventures of different timelines, how he's watched the world evolve but stay the same at the same time. It was nice being able to see Damon's softer side away from everything that we constantly go through and I do hope to see more across future dates. 

[kyaa-q]

A Train Wreck (part 1)

Lee Know x fem!reader warnings: fluff but heavy angst and themes of abusive relationships wc: 8k>. AO3 link :) synopsis: Your life has changed a lot throughout the past 6 months, since you started dating Jun. Events lead you to slowly distance yourself from some of the people you loved the most - Stray kids. Even your friendship with Bang Chan, your closest friend, was damaged after that day. Now, you find your life to be like an unstoppable train wreck hurtling toward disaster. You're gradually losing the bonds that had always kept you sane, for a serie of events that turned your world upside down. It feels inevitable: you will crash. Could someone help you avoid the collision? Could someone take the wheel with you, and help you get control over your life again? You don't know anymore. There's only one thing you do know: you are not welcomed and Lee Know, in particular, might hate you. And his opinion about you hurts more than you wanted it to.

Or: Y/N is in an abusive relationship and ends up distancing herself from her friends (Stray Kids). She thinks everybody hates her, especially Lee Know. She doesn't understand the effect he has on her (and vice-versa).

important a/n: This work deals a lot with topics of toxic/abusive relationship. There is no physical violence, but it does show cases of emotional manipulation and the potential impacts it can have over someone. The reader is in a toxic romantic relationship (I'm sorry to all Jun's out there), and the story is basically about how it affect not only the reader herself, but also the people around her who she held dear to her heart. It does contain a lot of self-doubt, anxiety, depressive thoughts and having your world reshaped by someone else, taking down important pillars to someone's life, finally facing what it means to have been deceived and accepting it (eventually). Having said all that, if you think this is a sensitive topic to you, please proceed with caution (if you choose to do so). I suck at tagging, but I hope this note made things a little clearer. In the end, it's supposed to be a way of comforting and healing - which will come, eventually -, especially with the help of someone else. I'm not sure how long this will be, but there's still a long way to go. Also, I use "Lee Know" and "Lee Minho" interchangeably, depends on the feeling. A final note is that this chapter has a lot of flashbacks of the past, so the timelines might be confusing to some, but hopefully it is clear enough and I can convey the message and feeling I aimed for. Lots of love, everybody!

You just finished ordering when your phone rings. Your stomach drops and you catch yourself being scared that it might be your partner, Jun. It hasn’t been an hour since the fight you two had over the phone, and if you were being completely honest, you can’t even recall the exact reason for the argument. What you do recall, though, is the aggressive silence, followed by yelling, aggressive silence again, a very passive-aggressive monologue about how you simply can’t understand. Why are you making things so difficult?, a quiet rage when you tried to speak, finally ending with Jun hanging up on you. In that order, specifically.

You force yourself to analyze the conversation. You remember calmly asking him where he had been the past few days. The overreaction you got threw you off. After days of complete silence from his end, could anyone actually blame you for genuinely being intrigued? Did that mean you were you a control freak? That you did you not trust him? That had never crossed your mind, for God’s sake! You only wanted to know! It was insane what he accused you of, for simply wondering whether he was busy or something similar. Suddenly trying to justify your question as coming from a place of sadness, not control, felt like a weakness. It didn't matter nonetheless, since he had hung up so abruptly. A mix of shame and guilt engulfed you, with a hint of anger that you very consciously denied.

Before you knew it, you were outside walking without direction, just desperate to unwind your mind. You hoped the fresh spring breeze healing powers would be enough. So, you walked and walked and walked, crossing streets and taking turns mindlessly. Or so you thought. You cursed your feet when you, at last, realized where they had dragged you, spotting the JYP-Entertainment building at one corner. A few buildings away, you remind yourself, your favorite coffee shop still stood. You actively deceived yourself, claiming that that is the place your feet had been leading you all along and resuming a much more determined march. It was the craving for coffee that had brought you here, you told yourself, and not the fear of running into any of the boys.

“Ma’am?” The cashier, a boy that probably is still in school, brings you back from your daze. He has a painfully obvious worried look on his face. Do I look on the outside as shitty as I feel in the inside? The phone stops ringing and you blink, hoping your mask is good enough to pull off a relaxed demeanor. 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You reach into your bag and aim for your wallet, doing your best to ignore the pity on that young boy’s eyes. Shame swirls inside your chest and you’re scared you might start crying in front of this poor kid.

You hand him the money and allow your eyes to wander around for a moment. The mechanical sounds the cash register makes are relaxing, and you take in the place you so dearly liked. You aren’t alone in the shop — in fact, it is quite busy for a Thursday afternoon. It is better this way, you think. The sensation of merging with the crowd and disappearing is welcoming. The boy hands over your change, and your phone starts ringing again.

The color of your face must have disappeared, by the look of the cashier’s face. “Can I do anything to-“

“Keep the change.” You smile once more, cutting him off. You turn around before he can finish his sentence and head to the farthest table you can spot. On your way, you wonder whether you look as pathetic on the outside as you feel on the inside. Without realizing it, you made a decision. The decision of avoiding Jun as if it could make anything better — as if it could even change anything by any means. You hated yourself for being scared, afraid of something you can’t exactly name. It couldn't be Jun. Why would it be? Apart from the occasional raised voice, he has never done anything to you. It's just a phone call, you tell yourself. If it goes downhill you can simply hang up, just like he did to you before. As simple as that. By the time you reach your seat, you're determined. This is foolish, you swear under your breath. Still, you hesitate to take the ringing phone out of your pocket — but end up doing it anyway.

The word Chris glowing on the screen feels like a cozy blanket being wrapped around your cold body. You must have audibly exhaled, perhaps muttered some thanks — whether to a higher being or to Chan himself, you're not sure — because you notice a few people turning their heads toward you . It’s okay, everybody! Everything is fine now!, you want to say. You clear your throat before answering it.

“Hey there.” Hopefully you don't sound so gloomy. You put in a double effort to sound as cheery as possible. Perhaps, if Chan believes you’re okay, you might as well just be.

“What’s wrong?” Straight to the point, you wince by the dry, clearly worried tone. Tough start.

You know Chan and the way he worries extensively about everything and everyone — not enough about himself, some would argue, but you'd slightly disagree. It’s simply part of his nature, you’ve learned. As much as you admired deeply his instinct to help, you did not want to be the object of such attention at that moment. He is a great friend – fuck, he is the best friend. In normal instances, you wouldn't hesitate before sharing your mind and soul with him. Right now, however, worrying him also meant being faced with too many questions, none of which you wanted to answer — perhaps not even knew the answer to. Not only that, you were also vaguely aware about the upcoming Stray Kids comeback in less than two months. Having witnessed the boys go through times like this firsthand before, the last thing you wanted was to add your name to the list of “Things That Keep Bang Chan Up At Night”. In reality, you knew he couldn't do anything about your situation regardless. Therefore, you conclude, worrying him would simply be counterproductive.

“Ouch. Not even a hello?” You play it off, fidgeting with your bag’s strap. You know you can't fool Chan. You shake your head to ward off the thoughts.

“Hello. What is wrong, Y/N?” He insists and you shift nervously in your chair. Your eyes travel to the cashier, who is talking to the barista, a boy as young as him, keeping them both in your line of sight. “Why didn’t you pick up the first time?” Chan questions.

“Is it that weird for me to not pick up immediately?” You joke quietly. You know Chan is not buying your act. “Actually. I think I should be the one asking you. Why do you sound so urgent? What is going on?” You deflect, but Chan doesn’t take the bait. He takes a deep breath, audibly through the speaker, and you feel bad for making things difficult for him — you really do. But you know it’s the best option. You will sort all the awkwardness in the future, hoping it won't be too late for it to have settled and stained your friendship irreversibly. You want to fill the silence, but your tongue feels heavy in your mouth.

Is it really the best option? What would be worse — telling Chan and burdening him with your own confusing problems, at least having him know what’s wrong, or avoiding talking about it? Certainly, he will sense that something is wrong, but at least he won’t feel bad for not helping if he doesn’t know exactly what’s going on.

But where to start?

Chris exhales audibly once more. “Nothing. I’m sorry.” He wants to insist, you can tell, but you’re thankful he’s holding back. “I just miss you.” He says it so softly the phone barely captures it. It hits you like a truck, and tears are rolling down your cheeks before you acknowledge them. The lump in your throat grows, and you're afraid your voice will betray you if you try to speak. “I haven’t seen you in weeks. When was the last time you came to the company?”

And it has been weeks - months, actually. You’re sure you can hear your own heart shattering like glass inside your chest. You can touch the sharp edges of the cracks and spot bruises that were supposed to have healed long ago but linger still. You miss him too. Not only Chan, but you you’re your routine with him and 3RACHA. You miss Changbin’s loud teasings and Han’s snuggles. You miss spending the hours on end holed up in a practice room with the eight of them, watching as they dance and sing and spin and fight and laugh, as if their own life depended on it. You were just a lucky spectator who has been very much avoiding the fact that you've been neglecting your most precious fortune. When did you become this mess of a person?

You’re bothering them. The male voice resonates in your mind and you close fiercely your eyes. You are not one of them, Y/N. You’re just being a nuisance all the time. Why can't you see it?

You try to stop it, but it's in vain. The memory memory comes back regardless.

“I never said I was one of them. That’s silly.” You replied as you entered the company’s elevator, followed by Jun. With your hands occupied holding plastic bags filled with snacks handpicked for each of the boys, you press the button with your elbow. “I just don’t think they see a problem with me coming over from time to time. It's not like I'm showing up every day." You glimpsed at your watch. You were early and Chris wouldn't be waiting for you. Perfect, you could surprise them. "You know, Channie was the one-“ He scoffed and you felt a puncture of guilt. “Chris.” You corrected yourself, not wanting to get into a fight because of this again. “Chris was the one who texted me asking if I was planning to come or not.” You tried to conceal the pride warming your chest with that statement.

“Maybe it’s because they just want to go home, but they can’t because there’s always the chance of you showing up out of nowhere. Have you ever thought about that?" His tone was harsh and took you by surprise. Actually… No. You have not thought about that, in fact. He inhaled deeply, massaging his temples in a sign of stress. “Of course not."

“I didn’t ask you to come.” You mumbled, fighting against the flush of shame on your cheeks. What if he's right? What if you've been bothering and annoying some of the most important people in your life this whole time, and they've just been putting up with you? Your heart sank at the thought.

“Babe.” Jun appeared in your line of sight and placed his hands on both your shoulders. "You know I'm only saying this because I love you, right? I just don’t want you to embarrass yourself in front of those people, that’s all." You tried to avoid his gaze, but he gently turned your chin and held it. "Okay?”

His voice was soft, but clear. Too loud for your ears, perhaps. The soft tone did not make it easier to absorb the painful words. It took you a moment to register that the elevator's bell had run the doors had already opened. Your partner stepped back, taking some of the bags from your hands and turning to exit. Had you been paying attention, you would've noticed the cynical smile on his face as he turned toward the figure standing at the entrance. You only registered the other party after Jun's venomous tone. “If you excuse us.”

The shadow, meanwhile, did not excuse him. He didn't move not even an inch to the side, and you caught Jun trying to pass by them smoothly - but failing. The figure didn't show to care when he bumped into him, murmuring curses under his breath that were very much audible. You turned your head and found, as already expected, Lee Know standing there. Nonchalantly, hands in the pockets of his jeans, you met his piercing dark gaze, already fixed on you - and you only. He paid as much attention to Jun as he'd do to a fleck of dust.

Although it had been about two months since you started dating Jun, all the boys had already met him. You held a habit of visiting them regularly at the company after being close to Chan for so long. Dating Jun hadn't stopped you from doing that, in fact, for some reason, he'd insist to come along. You tried questioning him if that came from a place of jealousy, but gave up after a few attempts. Mentioning Stray Kids was usually the motive for big arguments, which never led anywhere. Coming to the company to hang out obviously gave Jun as much amusement as he’d get from attending a seminar on top 10 best lore of teenager’s movies, and it was up to him how he spent his time. You actively did your best to dismiss his mean comments about the most insane things, be it the lightening of the place or the paint color they chose to paint this one specific wall or the supposed secretary’s rudeness. Every aspect of the building had something wrong with it that deserved a specific remark about it. Jun had learned not to make any unpleasant comments about - or even to - the boys. That was the only instance you would not let slide. In return, you learned to let him rant about how god damn cold or hot or crowded or empty the building was.

You never told Chan - or anyone, for that matter - about it. Practically any of the members, even Chris himself, had ever explicitly stated whether they liked or disliked Jun, and you never asked them directly. They maintained an awkwardly polite demeanor in Jun’s presence. At least they tried to keep it civilized, even when Jun was being difficult. Well, practically because there was one exception.

Lee Minho clearly disliked your boyfriend, and the feeling was mutual from day one. The first day Jun came along and you introduced him to your friends, they were all respectful and dealt fairly well with Jun’s special ironic remarks. Minho, on the other hand, had withdrawn into a state of heavy silence and deadly stares that alternated between you and Jun. You tried to ignore it, initially, not giving it too much thought. That was until Minho questioned, in a very audible and shameless, almost whiny voice, 'Ah, Hyung! When is this thing leaving? It’s so annoying.'

Before you could decide whether you’d argue with Minho or Jun, your short-tempered partner was already looking, outraged, for the source of the voice. You grabbed his arms and tried to drag him toward the door, saying goodbye to the boys with a hasty 'Yes, I’ll see you soon! Take care!' And, 'Let’s go, Jun, we have to—'

But as you left the room, both you and Jun saw that Minho had stood up and was leaning proudly against the wall. His deadly stare had followed you to the exit and you caught when the shadows on his face gave place to a malicious smile forming on his lips. He was looking at Jun, as he gave a tiny wave, somehow a sign of imminent violence. Just before you closed the door, you couldn't stop the shiver running down your spine when you noticed he was staring at you. You couldn't read what they said, but your stomach churned nonetheless.

Minho was the primary target of your boyfriend’s distaste ever since, and a common fight motive. Jun had always been the type to overthink, but it was ridiculously worse when it came to Lee Know - which was tragically hilarious. From all the eight, he had chosen Lee Minho to pick on? You'd try to argue, but his reply would always come to You can’t be this blind. It was maddening, always as if you were both arguing about two completely different things.

Thus, you weren't surprised to find Lee Know in front of you - that particular mocking tone coming from Jun in If you excuse us, would only be used with Minho. What did surprise you, however, was Minho himself. Standing as still as a statue in front of you, the man emanated annoyance and deep displeasure. His dark eyes exuded an anger you were certain you could touch. It made the air surrounding you heavier and colder. The chill reflected in your stomach as your face grew hotter. You couldn't look away, as if you were under a spell - and perhaps you were. You didn’t know if you wanted to scream, to run, or to hide. Maybe all three options. The knowledge you were the reason behind this anger was as clear as running fresh water, and it gave you goosebumps. Somehow, it wasn’t a question. You didn’t know what you could’ve done to trigger such fierce feelings from Lee Know. Although his feelings were as transparent as clean glass, you were unable to read his thoughts. Honestly, you weren’t sure you even wanted to.

How long it passed, you couldn’t tell. How long you stood there, pitiful and unable to move or look away, a mess of flushed face and glassy eyes, remains unclear to you to this day. What was very clear even at that time, however, was the shadow of disappointment you spot on the vastness of his deep dark eyes the moment before he turned around. He walked to the opposite direction of the hallway without saying a word. The abrupt withdraw left bad taste in your mouth. The spell was broken and you could breathe again, but the air was too icy in your lungs, making you wonder whether it'd be better to go back underwater - to be back under his gaze. That shadow of disappointment in his eyes persisted like an annoying fly you couldn’t shoo away, accompanied by a heavy weight in your chest.

“What the fuck was that?” The angry whisper suddenly reminded you that you weren’t alone. You might as well have been, though. The world could have ended and the universe collapsed at that very moment, and yet, staring into Lee Know’s eyes, you knew it wouldn’t make any difference. Under his gaze, you wouldn’t have noticed anyone but you and him. Your eyes followed the dark spot going down the corridor, until the moment he finally took a turn and disappeared completely. You collapsed against the elevator’s wall, finally breathing in as deep as you could until your lungs ache. Hold for one. Two. Three. Four. Exhale.

“Hello? What the fuck Y/N?” For a moment you considered yelling at Jun. You felt your nerves on the surface of your skin, and your heartbeat was distractingly loud in your head.

“I don’t know.” You breathed out, realizing that, in fact, you didn't have energy to fight. Your legs were unsteady and you realized your hands were shaking. The fog in your mind dissipated a little, and the pleas in your mind for Minho to come back died out. You tighten the grip on the left bags on your hands and push yourself forward. In automatic mode, you got out the elevator and headed to the first and closest safe place your mind could think of: 3RACHA’s Studio.

Perhaps you should have realized that you were heading in the same direction you had just seen him go, only a few minutes before. That you would, unavoidably, end up facing Lee Know again - although 3RACHA’s Studio wasn’t the only active room on that floor, that was the most obvious conclusion to arrive at. Maybe you knew it, unconsciously. Today, you wonder if you didn’t turn back that day simply because following Minho was like an instinct. You were confused, sad and scared, but still, going to Minho felt as natural as searching for a shelter during a storm. In this case, Minho was both the storm and the shelter. You should’ve turned your back and gone home, but you didn’t. Your mind was a hurricane of confusing feelings and images that, in the end, returned to the same name being chanted again and again. Lee Know Lee Know Lee Know.

Jun kept saying things you didn’t register. His voice was just a bit more than an agitated whisper, and you wished he would just shut up. Or even better, stayed at home. The doubts and fears resurfaced and you couldn’t shake them away. What if he was right? What if what had just happened was a statement of how much you annoyed and bothered this people?

Did they hate you that much?

As this last thought crossed your mind, a loud thud echoed, followed by a harsh voice. You froze, realizing it was emanating from 3RACHA’s Studio, and the door was half-open.

“Why is it still going on? It’s ridiculous!” It was… Minho? Could it be? You had never seen him raise his voice in anger - at least not seriously. It was unmistakably Minho, but the so intense anger was foreign to you. You couldn’t place it to the so coldhearted and detached person that Minho had always shown.

“YA! Don’t go around slamming things!” Changbin’s scolding came even louder, followed by mumbles you thought was Han's, but they were too muffled by the distance and walls to be sure.

They were fighting. They were very seriously fighting, and the realization sank in.

You should run. Run run run. Something was so clearly and deeply wrong. You should not be here. Now. Run.

Your members didn't follow your mind’s orders, and you caught yourself frozen in place.

You couldn’t move.

Your eyes snapped to your left, where Jun started moving. The sparkle of hope was extinguished when you realized he was moving forward, and not back to the elevator. He took one step closer to the door, and then another. Slowly, but surely trying to get a better listen. This isn't right.

“What do you want us to do, Minho?” Chan’s voice was also alien. The hasty, firm and contained anger just didn’t fit his patient personality. “Should we yell at her? That’s your solution?”

Her. Obviously this was about you. The word solution haunts you to this day, but even back then, the harm was starting to settle in. The need of a solution arises from the existence of a problem. You. In the end, you were the problem they were looking for a solution for.

“I can’t do this.” It was Lee Know again. Although his voice was much lower, it was as clear as it would’ve been if you were in that room with them. Pain and exhaustion overflowed from his words, and you felt their weight on your own face, in the form of tears that welled up and streamed down nonstop. His agony was overwhelming, and you felt as if your own heart was a broken dam. ���I can’t, Hyung.” It was getting harder to understand his words - not only for the walls muffling them, but also for your own heartbeat was deafening. For a moment, you considered whether they could hear it too.

You sized your options. First, you could casually knock on the door and hand them the bags – somehow still in your hands –, then find an excuse to leave right after. Oh, sorry! I’m super busy, just wanted to give you guys these. No, it’s fine! Enjoy! It could work. Except the atmosphere inside was beyond intimidating. You would never be able to put on such an act that convinced them you weren't listening. The second option was simply leaving the bags in front of the door and leaving instantly. You shook your head, discarding the idea as soon as it happened. Leaving without saying a word would be a clear statement that you heard them, then felt bad and left. While it was precisely what had happened, you did not want them to know that. No, you couldn’t bear having Chan forcibly explaining to you in which ways you were a problem to the boys. The fact that he felt this way - or at least knew the others did - and had not talked to you prior stung at the back of your brain. Lastly, you could just leave. Dragging Jun and all the bags, you would leave no traces behind and, hopefully, Minho would think you didn’t even leave the elevator. Maybe he would think you had seen him and finally realized you were not welcome, then you had made the smartest choice – the one you should definitely have taken – and had gone straight home. He would ignore it and not mention it and-

Shouts suddenly pulled out from of your daze.

“GONE! OUT OF HERE! OUT OF MY FUCKING SIGHT!” Someone vociferated, followed by the sounds of a chair being dragged and steps. You grabbed Jun's hand and started pulling him after you before you even register doing the action. Desperately going back to the direction you both came from, you prayed to find an unlocked door before anyone heard your footsteps and plastic sounds. Not sure how, your pleas were quickly answered. In a moment of despair, trying to open an unknown door, you pushed both you and Jun inside the empty dark room. Shortly afyer you shut the door and locked it, hoping the thud noise went unnoticed. 

 “Are you crazy?” As soon as he started, you dropped all the plastic bags and covered his mouth with both hands. You closed your eyes – to avoid the tears that threatened to spill or to hear if anyone had left the studio and came after you, you didn’t know. Regardless, you couldn’t hear anything over your heartbeat and a high buzz in your ears.

“Y/N?” You blink, coming back to the present. You open your eyes, and the barista is in front of your table holding your coffee. You notice his uncomfortable gaze and blush in embarrassment, murmuring thanks and apologies as he hands you the cup and leaves. He must’ve called you and you didn’t hear, giving him extra trouble to leave his spot and hand it to you personally.

It can also be due the tears flowing uninterruptedly on your face. Who knows.

You look at the black screen on your hand, laying on your lap now. You unlock your phone and blink to try to clean your vision from the tears, regardless, there is no new notifications. You can't recall the conversation with Chan exactly - if it could even be called a conversation. You don't know whether it was you or Chan who hung up, or even if you got to say goodbye. Had he noticed you crying?

You stare at the ceiling, doing your best to stop the tears. That was the last time you went to the company, and that was months ago. You miss Chan. You miss Changbin and Han. You miss spending the afternoon simply watching them working on music. You miss how they were loud and lively and intense. You miss how you felt when you were with them, and knowing that the feeling was only one sided broke your heart in ways you have no idea how to heal. You can’t shake the feeling of losing them - it seemed inevitable, and you wanted to scream.

You don't know why you act the way you do - running away since then. Evidently, it wouldn't magically make things right again. It wouldn't wipe out your memories of that day, or care less, for that matter. Some of the dearest people in your life thought of you as a problem to be solved, and it simply hurt. Minho’s anger and disdain were far too ingrained in your brain. You’ve been ignoring the acute pain that always followed remembering his exasperation and fury. Gone, he had shouted at the top of his lungs. He wanted you gone and couldn’t fathom why no one had talked to you yet. Honestly, it's hard for you to not question the same. 

Something very solid and real had broken inside you that day. Your attempt to pretend nothing happened was reinforced by the fact that, that day, Minho had, indeed, did what you hoped he would do. You texted Chan a little after, apologizing for not showing up, and he didn't say anything about you being there. Minho hadn’t told them about meeting you, and you felt relieved – maybe you could work things out by yourself, without having to make things even harder for them. You still didn't know how - but you planned on finding out.

The weeks that followed that incident were a messy blur. Thankfully, Jun didn’t mind your absentmindedness. It didn't bother him – interacting was an action that had to come from your end, and, since your mind was preoccupied with something else, he wouldn’t even try pulling you out from your thoughts. You couldn’t focus on anything else for too long, your thoughts would always, somehow, end on Minho’s resentment. On Minho's angry pleas to the winds for you to go away. On Minho's eyes. On Minho. Minho. It drove you mad. You felt bad and didn't want to admit you resented Chan a little. As you learned, asking Jun for advice proved to be completely unhelpful – in fact, it made things worse most of times. The situation was as clear as crystal to him: the boys were busy people, while you were someone desperately clinging to their attention, and, in the end, it saturated them. They were also not assholes - except that guy, he'd add - and that’s why they had been trying to give you hints. Then, you could arrive at the conclusion yourself, and there wouldn't be a need to go through the confrontational phase. Unfortunately, you hadn’t done your part and didn’t read between the lines, that's why you stood where you did. Why are you so upset about it? Fuck them! I never liked those guys anyway, and variations would usually put an end to the "conversation".

At work, however, you didn’t have the comfort of having your absentmindedness be dismissed. That was quickly noticeable not only by your clients and colleagues, but also by your manager. He was a patient man, but seemed to be in a permanent state of exhaustion and you guessed that's what capitalism did to a person. He never raised his voice and treated employees as human beings – an unprecedented event according to your own experience -, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have the company as top priority. He tried to listen and help, but wouldn’t hesitate to fire someone if they messed up. The first time you were called to his office, he questioned, impassive, about the embarrassing decline in your productivity. He didn’t seem exactly worried - employees had ups and downs all the time. You tended to overwork yourself, and, although you weren't the employee of the month, you knew you did a good job overall - so did your superior. “It’s just proceeding, you know?”

The downs persisted, unfortunately, and two weeks later you were called again. This time, his approach was more assertive and concerned.

“You can’t stay like this, Y/N.” He turned the monitor on his desk to face you, showing the numbers you had missed the last 15 days. “What is going on?”

“I’m sorry, sir.” You bowed deeply one more time, having no explanations or justifications for your bad performance. You couldn’t tell your manager you had your confidence undermined, that you were questioning every single act and interaction you had. You couldn’t tell your superior how deeply you missed your friends, missed love and hugs and affection and care. You missed yourself. You couldn’t tell him about the constant presence in your head that kept saying you were doing everything wrong. Everything. All your achievements, be they your job or your relationships - all of them were product of luck and you clearly weren’t good enough to keep them. Chan instantly came to mind. Even though he was texting you regularly, you couldn't get rid of the overwhelming sadness gripping your neck and kept your replies short. Obviously he had noticed, but respected your space - he stopped asking what was wrong after the first week. Knowing him, it was good that he didn’t know where you live, and that his own job kept him busy through day and night, or else you were certain he would’ve shown up at your door already. “It’s all my fault and I am deeply sorry I am bringing losses to the company and-"

“Y/N.” Your manager cut you, “When was the last time you slept?”

Confused, you blinked. “Excuse me?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “That answers it. You need to see a doctor.”

“I’m fine.” You raised your hands in surrender. “I promise, I don’t need to-“

“You can be a lot of things, Y/N. Sleep-deprived. Careless. Stressful. Anything but fine.” You flinched on the bluntness.

“Don’t you mean stressed?” You mumbled, embarrassed, trying to play off a joke.

“No, I said what I meant. Stressful. I cannot go on even for one more day if I look at my window one more time and see you staring blankly at your hands for God knows how long.” Before you could protest, he stopped you again. “I’m serious. I can’t afford the trouble of having an employee passing out because of lack of sleep. Take the rest of the day off and go to the hospital to get checked up. Come back tomorrow with the results in hand stating you are not dying or turning into a damn zombie.”

Left with no choice, you headed to the hospital. The feeling of guilt lingered in your chest a little, wondering if the insomniac nights were obvious in the dark bags under your eyes, if your anxiety was that evident in your eyes, words and walking.

You expected your health to be in check. You were certain modern medicine wasn’t capable of curing broken hearts yet – unfortunately. In worst case scenario, you’d probably walk out with a prescription to help you sleep and that’d be all. You took a deep breath before going in.

“Y/N?!”

Your body reacted before your mind and your eyes snapped in the direction of the source – Chris. He was already walking toward you, emerging from inside the huge building you had been staring at. You wondered if you were finally at the stage of hallucinations, and perhaps it was good it was happening next to a hospital - but this thought soon evaporated. Before you registered your own actions, you were also walking toward him, falling into the so missed and familiar hug your heart ached for.

It was the first time meeting Chan in almost a month. Usually, it wouldn’t have been a big thing, but it was for you. Your heart had been bleeding out for the past four weeks, and you hadn’t found a way to stop the pain. Chris was instant medicine, one that you had been actively depriving yourself of. You allowed yourself to be selfish for a moment. It was okay if you disturbed them and if you were an overall headache to them. In that moment, though, it was just you and Chris. You let yourself to believe that the love and appreciation you received from him were as real as they felt.

“Hi.” You murmured against his chest, inhaling his familiar perfume. His body vibrated with a chuckle, backing off just enough to look you in the eyes.

It was short, but you saw when the fun and joyful semblance turned into a concerned expression. You thought you sensed Chan becoming rigid, stiffening the hold on your shoulders just a little, as if you could run away if he let you. You remembered how you awfully sick and tired you might look. “How are yo-“

“I’m fine.” You cut off him, not being able to hold back a smile. “Do I look that terrible?”

He shifted, trying to cover up for his shameless stare. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way.”

Your smile widened; it was so easy to mess with him. “I’m just joking. I’m really fine, though.”

He glanced at you suspiciously. You could’ve well said you won the Olympics, and a quick look at you was enough to say that both of those things – being fine and winning the Olympics – were equally unlikely. And you didn’t account for the fact he had caught you standing in front of a hospital, just about to go in. Then it clicked, a hospital he just walked out of.

“Wait, what were you doing there? Are you okay?” It was your time to shamelessly look for wounds and signs that could hint if there was anything wrong with Chris. You noticed his clothes – shorts and a black long-sleeve shirt, it’s not something he’d normally wear outside, and rather stay inside working or even practicing.

He laughed shortly. “I am fine. Jeongin had an accident during practice and-“

“Jeongin had an accident?” Your voice was high pitched. Your eyes shifted to the entrance, past Chan, and you tensed, afraid you could see a badly hurt I.N.

“He is fine, Y/N.” He put his hand on the top of your head and turned it back to him. Looking into his eyes, you searched but found no traces of lying. Indeed, Chan looked quite chill, given the circumstances. “We feared he had a strained ligament or something, but he’s fine. I'll still hurt for the next few days, for sure. But he'll survive."

You breathed out in relief. “That’s great.” The story also explained his clothes.

Chan smiled at your concern. “Actually, they should be here at any minute now.” He glanced at the watch on his wrist.

“They?” You looked at him puzzled, but as if waiting for its cue, a loud calling Hyung! drew his attention.

When he turned around, keeping one hand gently on your elbow, he stepped aside and gave you a clear vision of the hospital's entrance.

Your heart caught in your throat. It wasn’t the imagery of an injured Jeongin, who limped just a little toward you and Chan, using a crutch to support his body. Oblivious, you didn’t even notice the way he was happily surprised to see you after so long, his dimples showing even after he had just left the hospital.

No. In all honesty, you had barely registered Jeongin’s presence at all at first. Instead, your eyes met with the figure following him, just slightly behind. The simplicity of the large white shirt and gray sweatpants would have made anyone else look comfortable, casual at most – but Lee Know wasn’t just anyone else. He wasn’t just comfortable or casual. He was so goddamn attractive - he was hot, you dared. His dark hair was even longer than it was the month prior, falling a little on his eyes depending on the movement of his face, and you had the urge to place a lock behind his ear.

He stopped walking suddenly, his gaze locking with yours. In that moment you knew the word that best described Minho: breathtaking – quite literally.

It lasted for a moment. Chan called for I.N and Minho started walking in your direction. Your eyes instantly deviated from his, and you forced yourself to focus on the maknae, rather than the burning stare coming from Minho or the blood flow running in your ears.

“Y/N!” Jeongin smile was contagious.

“Hey there, baby bread! How are you feeling?” You wanted to hug him, but you were unsure about his injuries, so you chose to stick with the smiling. Lee Know caught up to you all and placed himself by Jeongin's side.

“Oh, it’s nothing serious.” You saw him blushing. “This thing helps," he jiggled the crutch, "but it makes it seem way worse than it actually is. Ice will do just fine.”

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, Innie”. You smiled at him, and he smiled back. Keeping your hands in front of your body, highly conscious - conscious of your posture, choice of clothes, and greasy hair. You felt like a prey being watched by a predator – but choosing to avoid the predator’s eyes instead.

“What’s wrong with you?” Although Minho’s voice didn’t carry any resentment or accusation, you still winced. The sensation was like having a burnt hand and then someone grabbing it and placing it under a stream of cold water for relief. Yes, the relief would come right after, but first came the moment of shock and instinct to move away, before realizing how much you needed the cold water (his voice?) to relieve the pain of your burnt hand (your heart?).

“Come on, Lino. That’s not how you greet people.” Chan began, glancing at you apologetically. Unable to ignore him any longer, you let your eyes shift towards him.

His expression was a mystery, as hard as if it were sculpted in marble. Minho's face revealed no emotions, nor did his words. The bluntness could be mistaken by indifference, still his gaze was intense, making it hard to breathe and sending chills down your spine.

“Why would anything be wrong?” You questioned. Your voice somehow didn’t shake, and you hope you didn’t look as affected as you felt.

“Because I have eyes.” You felt your face growing hotter.  “And because you are in front of a hospital. What is wrong?” A sparkle of defiance lit in your chest – you owed him nothing. In fact, last time you checked, Lee Minho had made it very clear he did not want to see you.

“That’s not nice, Minho.” Chan scolded him, more fiercely this time.

“No, Chan.” You began, smiling warmly at Chris. He had so much on his shoulders already, you wouldn’t let Minho become another topic of trouble for him. “I’m fine, Minho. I’m here only to get checked up. Routine, that’s all.” You sustained his gaze with one of your own, hands held in fist so tight you’d later find red marks on your palms.

Minho raised a brow, almost mocking your poor explanation. The maknae spoke before him, “Are you sure you are well, Y/N?” The gentleness appeased your heart.

“You have to be joking.” Lee Know scoffed, apparently to himself but audibly to all of you. He was infuriating, daring to demand answers he had absolutely no right over! Why was he pressing on this? Why did it matter, anyway? Before you launched on him, Chan spoke.

“Okay! We’re done here.” He felt the weird energy between you two and wanted to prevent a war. “The driver is waiting for us, we need to go back. I.N, can you walk by yourself?”

“Yes, Hyung.” The maknae responded, particularly confused for the sudden shift but not daring to ask any questions.

Chan clapped “Okay, great. Minho, let’s-“

“I’m staying.” Minho said simply, placing himself by your side. Both you and Chan turned your heads to him abruptly.

“You are what?” You stepped away from him in disbelief. Your voice was a little higher than you wished. His face remained impassive, but there was something in his eyes that you quite put your finger on. “No, you are not.”

“Oh, come on. I’m not gonna do anything to you.” He exasperated.

You tried to sense his motives, but it made so little sense that it was hard to put some logic into it. Did he get some twisted pleasure from upsetting you? It could be. But again, not a month had passed after the incident at the company. Back then, the sight of you had triggered as far as rage in him. But even now, he didn't look exactly the type of person that was getting any satisfaction from being in your presence.

Chan’s tone was serious. “Minho,” His eyes left yours and shifted to the oldest, changing his demeanor in a bit. His posture was rigid, but his gaze carried a determined defiance. “What is going on?”

Minho pointed at you without adverting his eyes from Chan. You gasped angrily, about to protest, but he didn’t give you the space. “She is going on, hyung. Look at her. If not for the obvious signs of being ill, then for the fact she’s missing work to come to the hospital.”

You argued. “I’m missing work because my boss told me to!"

“Which only proves my point.” He continued, letting his hand fall right by his side. “Something is so obviously wrong that it was up to her boss to step in, or else I doubt she’d come by herself.”

Ouch. “Listen." You interrupted. "I don't know what's going on with you, but you’re making it way bigger than it actually is. I am okay and I most definitely do not need your help.” You glanced at Chris, but his attention was still directed to Minho. You could see the gears working in his head, but you decided it was time to leave. “It was great seeing you guys. I mean it. But I really don't have time for this. If you excuse me.” You turned your back and tried to leave, but in vain. Not even two steps later did a hand wrap around one of your wrists. Minho’s hold was gentle, but firm, and you tried to hide de burning in your cheeks. “YA!”

He pulled you closer than you were before, and his voice was deeper when he spoke. “How long has it been since you last saw your boyfriend?” You were dizzy. The sudden shift in subject, accompanied by the warmth Minho's hand transmitted to your wrist and the disdain he had put into the word 'boyfriend,' clouded your thinking.

“Jun?” You blinked, trying to disperse the fog, but the scent of his perfume was inebriating. Minho was too close. “I saw him yesterday.”

“You saw him yesterday?” Minho’s voice had a hint of disbelief, and he searched for lies in your eyes. You saw him becoming tense, and you prepared to feel his grip tightening, but the hold on your wrist remained the same. “Are you sure?”

“What?! Of course I am sure! What kind of question is that?” Angrily, you pulled your wrist away from his grasp. He let you, keeping his stare a little longer. “What is wrong with you?!” You turned your eyes to Chris, begging a way out of this insanity. You caught I.N behind him, almost as uncomfortable with the scene as you were. Chan sustained Minho’s gaze for a moment, and your eyes darted between the two of them. No words were spoken, but obviously they weren't needed. The silent conversation through telepathy or whatever the sorcery clearly didn't include you.

After what seemed like forever, Chan sighed, defeated. “Okay. Y/N," he turned to you. "do you mind if he accompanies you?”

“What?! This is madness! Of course I mind. I’m not a child!” You begged.

“It’s not that, sweetheart.” He got closer and you let him when he pulled you to a hug. “We’re just worried about you. We all know you’re very much capable of taking care of yourself.” He added the last phrase when he felt you were about to protest. “We just want to make sure you are okay and can go home safely afterwards.”

“I can do this by myself.” You mumbled.

“I know, I know. But Lee Know can’t. He won’t be able to rest if he doesn’t make sure you’re safe and sound.” He kissed your forehead. “And my mind will also be at ease if I know you’re with him.”

After a moment, you sighed. “Fine.” You accepted reluctantly, stepping away as Chan positioned himself next to the waiting maknae.

“Thank you, Y/N. You’re amazing. Lemme know how things go, yea?” Chan’s warm smile was impossible to be angry about. You nodded with your head and waved a tiny goodbye to I.N and watched them walk away.

Lee Know, didn't move an inch throughout the entire time.  When you turned to him, somehow, he seemed relaxed. Even his eyes had changed. Although they still carried a wince of something unknown - similar to concern but deeper in a way -, they were calmer. They were almost… gentle. It could’ve made you mad. He had made a huge thing out of nothing, stressed both you and Chris, and now dared to look at you with tenderness in his eyes. You exhaled, knowing it'd be pointless to yell at him. You were exhausted and had no energy spared to bicker. His motives was still undisclosed, but perhaps they weren’t important right now. You decided that your main task was to get whatever prescription as easily as possible, and then have a doctor to state you were not about to collapse. Then, not only would it solve the matter with your boss, but also it meant you would finally get rid of the man in front of you.

Okay, that sounds like a plan.

“Shall we?” Minho reached out his hand with an overly soft voice. You rolled your eyes.

"Weirdo." You cursed under your breath and avoided his hand, heading, finally, straight to the entrance. You did take note of the small chuckle he let out, and how he smoothly followed you behind.

[a-libra-writes]

Lol I love your Lackadaisy reader insert 😩

I'm actually glad they animated it ..so can you write a romantic headcanon for Victor I love big beefy men ..👁️👄👁️

I kidda like if the reader is like a famous model and him a over protective male wife

I hope this make sense thou tell me what you think..

I love your works and have a good day/or night (⁠っ⁠˘⁠з⁠(⁠˘⁠⌣⁠˘⁠ ⁠)

lol so i really cant see viktor as like, a "malewife" as hes p traditional and rough around the edges but this made me think of some HCs with him and a married reader so here ya go!! It kinda got away from me.

Femme reader ahead!

--

Regardless of how you met Viktor -- perhaps you were both from the old country and came to America together, or you're a fellow immigrant he found common ground with once he arrived, or an American girl who actually bothered to talk to him -- eventually, you two married. You were a pretty girl and he actually had trouble talking to you the first few times. Viktor was quiet, but sweet, honest and reliable.

You and him only got a few years of married life before the draft came.

He wanted to do it, hoping it would bring some kind of opportunity for you both. At least the pay was better, as most employers felt a Slav was only good for dumb labor and low wages.

When he came back, he was Viktor, but not the one you married. Not quite.

The job at the docks was one he'd been able to stick to for some time, though you know he disliked it. He worked for your sake, so you wouldn't have to pull such long hours yourself. He did many things for your sake, silently and without complaint. He didn't used to be this quiet.

You didn't hear about the terrible riot, or his involvement. You just knew he never came home, and then some neighbor said he was arrested. Then - there was some lawyer? Some man named Atlas May? It happened so quickly. No one at the police station would help, as expected. But then that man, that Atlas May, drove up to your modest little apartment and explained in his polite, calm voice. There was no need to worry. He has a new job, and you'll be much provided for. He wouldn't tell you why Viktor was in jail or what this new job was.

Viktor had to move to a different part of St. Louis for this job. He didn't even tell you in person, he wrote about it, saying he'll send money and you shouldn't worry about him. If anything, you should move somewhere nicer and not think of him.

Obviously you crumpled that letter up and figured out where the hell he's gone off to. Once you find the Little Daisy, you look around and see your big husband in the garage. You immediately rattle off at him. WHAT does he mean by this and what happened to his eye and WHO is this man who paid for the lawyer and if Viktor thinks he can just upend your lives and not TALK to you--

Your language or his, he gets the point. The whole building probably heard you.

So, you find employment in the Little Daisy. The pay is generous; you wonder if Atlas is either placating you or feels bad for the whole mess. Maybe both, but it's much easier than the work you did before. And his wife Mitzi is friendly - you think she likes having female company for once. In spite of her fancy clothes and talk, she's quite down to earth.

Even if you don't mind working the cafe, Viktor feels a great deal of guilt for "involving" you in the business. Well, it is what it is. It's not so bad, on the quiet days. Sometimes he's home in the evening with you, sometimes he's out all night and gets in as you're getting ready for work. You'll share a kiss and give him a long, long hug before sending him to bed with no questions.

If he's wounded, Viktor doesn't like coming home. He'll stay at the speakeasy and get it fixed there, and recover there if need be, until you drag him back home. You are not above cornering Mordecai, dangling a rat by the tail and making him spill what Viktor got into.

"You wouldn't - I just cleaned this room, do you realize how quickly those vermin breed--" "Ohh, I would, and I'll get more until you tell me where he's laid up!"

Actually, you have kind of a weird friendship with Mordecai, like Viktor does. You know the surly cat keeps your husband safe and has saved his life before. When you tuck away some sandwiches and a thermos of coffee for your husband, you start adding some extra food and a thermos of tea for Mordecai, too. He doesn't say anything to you directly, but returns the clean thermoses and cups to Viktor. And comments it's nice to know someone around here can make a proper cup of tea.

If you know Slovak, that tends to be what you and Viktor speak to each other, even in front of others. Otherwise you two have a weird half-English half-Slovak and whatever else that most people only get every other word of. He finds your accent very charming, and kinda prefers that people don't know what you two are saying. It's more private that way.

If he's around, he likes to join you on your lunch break and yall get a nice moment alone. You snuggle up and lean on him and he quietly enjoys the affection. He growls at anyone who comes in and tries to interrupt Wife Time (tm). If he doesn't have something to do immediately, Viktor likes keeping you company while you cook up the food and work the register though he kinda scares the customers.

He REALLY doesn't like the idea of you working down in the Speakeasy, you're a pretty girl, and that's a rowdy crowd. Even with all their money, the men are the same. The few times you've had to go down for something or to help out, it only takes ten minutes before some Mister Whoever stops you and says you ought to be in magazines and the pictures. If Mordecai spots the altercation early, he beelines over to deal with it - because otherwise Viktor will come by, and his way of dealing with it is picking men up by their necks and all but full-body throwing them up the stairs. Atlas doesn't complain - it keeps the other patrons in line. Mordecai just doesn't want to deal with the mess.

(Sometimes it's just some harmless drunk whose clearly confused you for a different girl and you still have to pull Viktor away. "Dear, please, no one should get their teeth knocked out for a misunderstanding ...")

More than once Mitzi has taken you shopping and dressed you up. If it's a special occassion - New Year's is a big one for Lackdaisy - you should go all out! She makes sure your hair is done and lends you some jewelry, and floats the idea of you getting Viktor in a tuxedo. It would never happen, of course, but she'll try.

Yes, it isn't so bad to be here - the violence is frightening, but Viktor always makes it home back to you. Maybe just another year or two of saving and you both can find a nice house in the country.

[fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic]

Good Omens Fic Rec: Dream A Little Dream Of Me (series)

The reality of Aziraphale parting ways with Crowley was a difficult reality to grasp, and so the demon decided he’d rather escape it through picking up an old habit he had long since abandoned; sleeping. The trouble is, the angel is just as present in his unconscious mind than his conscious one. Meanwhile, Aziraphale, with the angelic ability to visit people in their dreams, has decided to abuse that privilege despite direct orders from Heaven.

Length: 22,927 words

AO3 Rating: Teen and Up

Best for: Safe in Public, Slight Angst

Triggers: Temporary Character Death (ish)

Read it here, fic by lavender_mo0n

*Minor Spoilers* This one broke my heart and put the pieces back together so very softly. In this series, we are post-S2, and Crowley is hiding from the world, asleep, and as usual, he dreams of his Angel. They travel through their history together, and Crowley is honest and open with the Angel in his dreams. But soon, the lines between dream and reality start to blur. I don't want to spoil any more of the plot for you, so I'll stop the summary here. I really didn't know how things were going to play out, which made it all the better, so I want the same for you.

There are some really excellent insights and ideas here. I was particularly interested in this version of Saraqael, who is a complex ally. I know there has to be a ton of interesting things happening with her that happen "off-screen" in this story. I find myself wondering what her deal is and what her plans are. There's also this line from Crowley that stuck with me, “You lot think that you’re so pure and good,” he sneered, “but the reality is that when you cause pain to someone trying so hard to live their life in your image, it hurts just as much as if a demon had done it.” And oh boy, does that sum up my feelings on religion. There are also some musings on guilt and forgiveness that really spoke to me. I love that they force each other to slow down and work out negative feelings together. They both try to hide and repress their feelings and are both prone to thinking they don't deserve good things. Thankfully, they can now teach each other that they do deserve to be safe and happy.

Safe in public, but it's a perfectly mellow and dreamy read so I suggest being somewhere comfy with a big blanket. Some slight angst, but this isn't a heavy story really. I love how it ends, they still have some healing to do before they're settled. But now they can relax, and find peace. Even though this is a series, it's really one work. Make sure to read every part and in order!

Read it here, fic by lavender_mo0n