#it is so weird going from being in a crumbling building to being in a very pristine industrial building

[prettyboykatsuki]

oliver talking his partner through it and calling him d**** god your brain is so huge my stomach hurts thinking about this. he’ll never tell you he loves you to your face and tries to fuck you more like he hates you because he doesn’t want to get too attached but as you’re getting close he’s all in your face and your neck, teasing you, biting your ear and softly begging you to tell him how you feel, how it’ll be better for him if you tell d**** just how close you are and how much you need him. takes you over the crest so sweetly, and continues rolling into you, chasing his own. his kisses are nonstop and so overwhelming, and he knows they are but he just really needs to connect with you like this. never the first to say “i love you” but unfortunately (in his opinion) he expresses it in so many other ways. sorry.

but i crumble completely when you cry | a. oliver

✮ tags ; DADDY KINK, afab + fem!reader, situationship!oliver, hooking up, unresolved romantic tension, p in v, praise, soft sex, it gets emotionally strange, riding, creampies, unprotected sex, under-negotiated kink in a sense though oliver is very careful

✮ wc ; 2.2k (i dont want to talk about it)

✮ a/n ; anon im going to haunt your dreams for putting this absurd image into my head when i dont even go here im crying screaming throwing up ive been thinking about it for hours. hours of my life wasted on this guys dick. upsetting!!!!!

also i do not write this often and do not plan too again any time soon so if ur seeing this and thinking about following me for content like it i would not recommend!!!

✮ synopsis ; you don't trust oliver with your heart or your feelings. nor do you expect anything from him.

but it's hard not to lean into him when he decides to cradle you so gently.

Your relationship with Oliver is both very ambiguous and very clear.

There's a line drawn, and you both steer clear of crossing it in your interactions. Oliver is fun. He's attractive and charming, a massive flirt but just genuine enough to be interesting.

It helps that he's hot. Physically, he's got an unreal build.

He's an athlete, so he's big. Wide chest and strong arms, thick thighs and the height to top it off. He's 6'3, and he's sexy (and his dick is huge) - and you sleep with him because of that. You don't date him explicitly because he's a womanizer. If you'd met when you were a little younger, a little more naive - you might've tried to dog-train him into being your boyfriend.

Because on top of the immaculate dick, he's fun to be around. He's funny, he drinks well, he's not a scumbag in the ways that turn you off.

You're old enough to know better. You have a career. You're too busy, and too jaded about love to try and fix whatever weird shit he has going on. So even if the two of you harbor some sort of emotional or romantic feelings for each other, you're smart enough to not get invested in those feelings and smart enough to have no expectations.

Oliver is your fun. He's your sneaky link, your weekend off. You come to him to blow off steam. You have rough, fast sex and it's good. Sometimes you chill afterwards, and you'll indulge each other in some physical affection but other times you take your shower and leave. It's a good time, and you know well enough not to ever ask him for any of your emotional needs. You have your therapist and girl friends for that.

Normally, when you're having a rough week - it's prime time to go to him. He'll fuck you a little harder than usual, and sometimes he's nice enough to kiss it better. But it's still, very distinctly, never crossing that boundary.

But some weeks, like this week - shit is bad. Not just stressful bad, but everything in the fucking world that could go wrong, is going wrong bad. It's not the kind of thing you can get over by compartmentalizing and even when you try to do your usual thing it doesn't really work.

You're trying right now - to get over the fucked up week you had. And you're turned on, but somehow - it's still not enough to get you completely out of it.

Oliver pauses mid stroke, in missionary - hetero-chromatic eyes staring you down as your thoughts are somewhere else completely. You don't notice the first time he stops, or the first time he calls you.

And he only gets your attention by cupping your face and making you look at him. You startle as you cast your glance his way.

"What's with you?" He asks, though he's not pissed or anything "Not feelin' it? Want me to stop?"

"No, you don't have too."

"Not what I asked," He chastises, letting go of your face "Not having your full attention is making me go soft,"

This makes you laugh, and Oliver cracks a smile seeing the tension melt off your face if only slightly.

"I'm cool with stopping." He assures. You let your hand reach up to his shoulder.

"It's not like I want to stop, necessarily? Like I wanna do something to get my mind off it and sex feels like the best option, but you know how it goes sometimes," You say, trying your best to avoid the emotional baggage of your words "We can stop though. I'll pay you for your wasted time," You tack the joke on at the end to ease the tension.

You're expecting him to pull out and stop, or maybe challenge himself into fucking you so good that you forget. Something more quintessentially Oliver than what he does do.

He gives you a blank look first, than a laugh that is a touch too sincere for you to be comfortable "That bad of a week?"

You're suddenly in dangerous territory. Somehow, this strange intimacy makes all the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You swallow thickly, the emotions coming over you so quick you end up looking away.

"Yeah. You know. It's fine, but you know."

"Mm," He says. He leans into your space. His breath is warm and his stubble tickles your skin as he whispers in your ear. You feel your breath hitch. And the air feels heavy "Wanna try somethin' else?"

"Like what?"

"A surprise," He says first, and find your stomach tightening. A hollowness in your nerves "Gotta trust me."

"You're scaring me." You joke.

"I'm a sex expert, you know?" Oliver says, humming against your skin "If I can't remedy your little problem with my dick, it's bad for my street cred. My yelp reviews will tank."

"You're such a dumbass."

"Do you trust me?"

You don't know how to answer. Yes, for the most part. Not with everything, but with your pleasure at least. Whatever this is, it doesn't feel the same. But you say yes, anyways. Oliver kisses your jaw in reply, then he pulls out.

He flips position easily. He ends up on his back, then he grabs you to rest on top of him. You're not sure what you're expecting. He holds you by your hips as your sex hovers over his cock. His thumb is rubbing circles into your skin as he sinks you down slowly onto him.

You only stare at him, mouth opening as you feel him stretch you open for a second time.

You're more aware of it this way. He's so thick, and so intrusive - and normally, you're feeling that in hard strokes. Fast and rough, like something knocking into your cervix. But like this, he's hitting a deep angle. You can feel every curve, every inch, as you come down slowly.

He keeps you there. For longer than you'd expect. Just keeps you, settles you, holds you gently. You stare at him as he grabs your hand, locking your fingers. Your first instinct is to panic, or crack a joke - but there's an intense look in his eye that shuts you up.

Uncharacteristically gentle, you find yourself frightened. Oliver's hands reach for you again. They hold your waist and slide up the planes of your body. He holds your tits in his palms and squeezes.

He does this a lot, but there's not usually this much touching. This much foreplay. It's grabby, a deeper pressure. He doesn't...feel you, in the way he is now. You stare at him, and he looks back at you so fondly you feel a strange urge to pretend it never happened.

"Play with your clit," He says, though there's no urgency in his voice.

Deep and smooth, the timbre in it has you shaking. You listen, on auto-pilot as you play with yourself clumsily and build a slow pressure. He just watches.

"C'mere, baby. And don't stop touching yourself."

Another pause. It's not the first time he's called you that. He likes to call you all sorts of things when you're fucking, and baby is one of the few. But not like that. Not like this. He gives you a lazy, self satisfied smile and encourages you by placing a hand on where he can reach on your low back.

You lean down, and Oliver tucks you into his chest. He's warm, and strong - and smells so good, like musk and cologne. Your free hand is on his chest, as he grips your hips and fucks up into you.

"That's it," His voice is pleasant to your ears. It feels funny to you "Just gotta listen to me."

He starts fucking you slowly. It's a familiar feeling, a pleasant stretch that dulls into a euphoric fullness. But it's never been this slow before. Each thrust is slow, and punctual, and so deep you feel yourself gasping. It's not enough to push you over the edge, but it's enough to make your mind feel a little numb.

You think he's going to keep at you like this, maybe edge you to take you out of it. But he doesn't. He keeps his pace.

"Had a hard time this week, didn't you, tough girl?" He mumbles, so low it doesn't feel real. You feel your heart start to race. You feel your throat start to close around something, choking "Did a good job and came to me. Gonna let me take care of it?"

You stumble. You aren't sure what to say, you nod and hope he feels it. He laughs a little. You can't be sure if you're fucking Oliver or not.

You know it's him but he's never been like this. Not once. Not ever.

"Gonna let daddy take care of you?" He says, though it's tentative. Your breath hitches. Something strange overwhelms your senses "Tell me, baby."

"Uhm," Your first reaction is a sense of resistance, an immediate pull away. Not that you hate it but you aren't sure how to adjust. You squirm, but you don't tell him no. You feel like you can't in this state "Uh-uh,"

He keeps surprising you, pressing his lips to yours where you hover over him, tender as he ups the pace of his thrusts.

"That's what I like to hear," He almost sounds proud "You'll hurt your head if you think too much. And I'd be a bad daddy, letting that happen, yeah?"

A vulnerable, foreign sensation drives you to speak "You're not bad in that way."

He laughs "Just in other ways, right?"

You giggle "Uh-huh."

"But not in this one," He repeats, very carefully. He fucks into you harder now, pays extra special attention to you. It's all for you, is what he's saying in a language completely foreign yet somehow so known. One only the two of you will ever know fully, confined in the four walls of this room "Daddy is good at taking care of you like this, so you should let him do just that. Tough girls always need their daddies, hm?"

It's what ends up tipping you up over the edge. You cling to him, succumbing to whatever weird space the two of you have fallen into you. Suspended in this odd sense of comfort that Oliver has thrust you in unannounced.

You don't trust Oliver with a lot, and this is more than what you should ever find yourself giving. In the back of your head you think you should pull away.

But he's comforting. It feels good, and strangely feels safe - and even for all the ways he's awful, you trust he'd never do anything bad to you. Even if it's a blip in the timeline, for now it's what you need. A blurry cross into your emotional needs that translate into your physical ones. Too much and so overwhelming, you hug closer to him and take a deep breath.

"Mm," You let yourself lean into him. Just this once, you promise yourself. "I wanna cum."

"Want it a little harder?"

"Mhm,"

"Then Daddy will give it to you a little harder, yeah? Anything for you." He says, and you try not to think to deeply on what that really means. Because even in this state you know it's not nothing, but you should never pry "Daddy can give you anything you want."

"Yeah?"

He chuckles a little as he fucks into you hard. Fucks into you how you need. You're wet enough, and wondering if you were always so into being doted on. Or if it's just the fact that it's Oliver. Another thing you decide to overlook as you zero in on the sensation of being pistoned from underneath. You're soaking. The room noisy with the sticky noise of Olivers cock penetrating you over and over, skin hitting skin as his hips press against your ass. His grip is bruising but not intentionally, his chest huffed in pleasure.

He's just as close as you are, you know all of his cues. You play with your clit faster, sensitive bud throbbing hard as all the blood rushes south. Your mouth has fallen open as the slow, thick desire coiling and culminating into something cosmic. Something big and heavy, but not too fast. Not a crash landing like you're used to.

But a single weight, the force of a star dropping to Earth. You figure Oliver is the gravity in your universe, holding you down so you don't float too far. You want to cling onto him for much longer.

And somehow, you're inclined to think he would let you.

"Oliver," You say his name as it builds, then decide on something else "Daddy,"

"I'm here, baby," He says back, like it's all he has to say for everything to make sense when nothing about this does "I'm right here. Let go."

So you do. You cum hard, and it comes in long never ending waves. Too much. It makes you collapse in Olivers arms, both arms coming around his neck as he continues to fuck you through the aftermath.

"Gonna," He voices, rasping as his thrusts become sloppy "Shit. Cumming, shit."

He cums with you, cums deep inside like usual and you mewl at the feeling of being filled with hot, sticky seed.

When it's over, you're almost afraid to look at him. When the tensions settled, and his chest goes back to it's steady breaths - you wonder whats going to happen next.

"Wanna stay like this for a while?"

You nod.

"Mm. Sleepy."

"Stay like this, then. I'll wake you in a little."

"So you can kick me out?" You joke, trying to pretend nothing is different. He pauses.

"Just to shower," He whispers, hand resting on your lower back "Sleep."

There's too much to think about. Tomorrow will be strange. You let yourself succumb to your own exhaustion.

"Okay."

#return to sender #daddy kink cw #oliver x reader #oliver aiku x reader #oliver aiku smut #bllk x reader #bllk smut #writing tag #this wouldve become a 10k fic if i was not so fucking careful

[hariboz]

. . . YOU’RE WHO?

“their reactions to someone calling themselves your work husband in front of them!”

pairing: zb1 hyung line x gn!reader

genre: fluff <3, humour

warning: pretty lighthearted, light cursing

notes: hi hello this is my first post!! congrats to my jebewon for debuting 🥹 as a pre-bp stan i’m so happy to see them so loved and well received 🫶🏻 ALSO ty to my jebis for reigniting my love for writing <3 i’d love to find some zerose moots!! just hit me up, either in my dms or my asks <33

✦ * 💭 ⊹ 김지웅 ; JIWOONG

ooooh cocky bastard!! (lovingly)

kind of cocks his head to the side and just goes, “hm?”…😮‍💨

pretends he doesn’t get it but he actually just wants to see the guy’s face crumble while your coworker is scrambling to explain

“oh it’s just a joke between us—“ and the guy tries to throw his arm over your shoulder but jiwoong is quicker and pulls you into his side

makes a show of wrapping his arm around you, giving you the most dazzling smile, just amping up the charisma and charm

refuses to leave your side the whole evening and interjects every time your ‘work husband’ tries to talk to you

makes your female coworkers swoon from afar!! makes you two look so lovey-dovey and your ‘work husband’ is d y i n g inside the whole evening

gives the guy a firm handshake when you bid your goodbyes and hits him with the “i’m the only husband around here, i think,” SOMEONE TAKE HIM AWAY IMMEDIATELY!!

genuinely does not care as long as the guy treats you fine and isn’t being creepy towards you

almost treats the guy like a kid that has a crush on you when you bring him up when you talk about your day 😭

keeps teasing you afterwards, brings it up for fun every time and thinks he’s soooooo funny

“woongie you can’t just—“ “well, you have a whole husband on the side—“ someone shut him uppppp!!

✦ * 💭 ⊹ 장하오 ; HAO

oh he loves it, but not in the “oh this is cute” way but rather in the “this is great, we’ll have so much to laugh at later on our way home,” way

kind of eggs you on to feed into him…to see how far the guy will go…

“oh really? that’s so sweet!” “you never told me about this husband of yours, honey..”

you just wanna 🦵 👨🏻

the guy fails to pick up on the sarcasm that practically drips from hao’s voice and gets more confident in his comments towards you…

oh he’s evil!! but also steps in if it goes too far; he might enjoy the entertainment but no one gets to disrespect his relationship to his face!!

the atmosphere kind of dips when your coworker offers to take you home when you mention that you’re getting tired to hao, since it’s “his job as a husband”

hao looks at you in utter disbelief like?? did that guy just insinuate what he thinks he was insinuating….while hao’s right there…?!

worst stink eye you’ve ever seen from hao just staring daggers into the guy 😭

takes your hand and says goodbye to everyone except for your ‘work husband’ and when you look back before getting out the door you can just see the guy absolutely fuming

“never speak to him again.” “i work with him…every day…” “i don’t care!!”

is genuinely concerned that the guy is being weird to you but covers it up with some lighthearted jealousy to make you laugh :’)

“hao, i got you some treats on my way home!” “how do i know these aren’t just your husbands left overs…” you hate him

“you should start calling him the office divorcee.” BYE

✦ * 💭 ⊹ 성한빈 ; HANBIN

hates it but no one is none the wiser with the way he politely smiles and laughs along

except for you!! you know him and you can see the irritation building up behind his smile

all 😆 on the outside but very much 😒 on the inside

you try to reassure him but he’s just like, “i’m fine! this is fine! i’m so glad you have such a close friend at work!” when you can just see him dying inside

your coworker hears this and tries to interject ‘jokingly’ and hits hanbin with the, “well actually we’re not just friends—“ but you elbow him to get him to shut up like!! bro who do you think you are!!

the friendly look on hanbin’s face falters for just a second but you can just tell he’s seething inside

so you sneak him a little kiss and he lightens up just a little <3

he just wants to leave and take you home and cuddle with you he’s so sick and tired of this random ass man playing pretend with his partner!!

but he doesn’t want to make a scene!! because he’s scared it would make you look bad if your actual boyfriend lashes out over a ‘joke’ so he just…smiles and endures it 🫠

looks the happiest you have seen him all day when you tell him it’s time to leave, has a spring in his step and beams at everyone when bidding his goodbyes lmao

remains super suspicious of that coworker!! essentially perks up when you mention him like 🤨 just waiting for you to tell him he did something weird so he can finally march over there and let him have it!!

genuinely tells you that he doesn’t like how the guy calls himself your husband and you promise you’ll tell him off if he ever utters the word husband in your vicinity again and hanbin’s just giggling and smiley like 🥰 yes thank you bb

✦ * 💭 ⊹ 석매튜 ; MATTHEW

immediately picks up on the joking nature of it and actually brushes it off at first!

it’s just a joke!! and it’s kinda cute, right? who is he to assume any nefarious business!! just a joke!!

…right? right?!

but his mood gets sour rather quickly when your coworker keeps lingering around you two..when he keeps trying to butt into your conversations…bringing up stuff that happened at work that matthew has no idea about…

he’s stuck to you like glue and matt’s getting a little irritated to be honest?? there’s so many other people here, why does he keep circling back to you when your boyfriend is here??

when he interrupts you two being all cute and giggling again, matt kinda loses it but not in a confrontational way!

“man, is there no one else you can bother? maybe an actual partner instead of trying to hog mine??”

your coworker is speechless, staring at you two and you have to try so hard to bite back a laugh

he leaves huffing and puffing and you’re pretty sure he’ll ignore you at work from now but!!

it’s all worth it when matthew turns to you and you both burst out in giggles, matt mimicking the face the guy made to make you laugh <3

the guy keeps glaring at you two the whole night but you barely even notice during your fits of laughter w your boyfriend <3

starts jokingly calling himself your house husband to triumph over the work husband!! will bring you a cup of coffee at home, give you a little kiss to your temple and mutter a “10 points for the house husband” to hear you giggle 😵‍💫

✦ * 💭 ⊹ 김태래 ; TAERAE

hates it, wants to ban the words “y/n” and “work husband” from ever being used in one sentence ever again

who does he think he is…taerae is right there?

asks you if this is a common occurrence and if he should help you report him to hr 😭

when you tell him he previously never said anything of this sort he’s almost more peeved..? why is he bringing this up NOW when taerae is here!!

simply cannot comprehend the sheer audacity of that man and doesn’t even try to hide it!! he’ll flat out cackle at everything your other coworkers say but not a single peep from taerae when your “work husband” cracks a joke

ooooh he’s so petty and makes sure to keep you away from him the whole evening too…oh you wanna chat w my y/n? my bad we actually have to go to the bathroom. together. see ya!

has a hand on you at all times now!! no way that guy will catch him lacking. hand holding yours, hand on your waist, hand on your neck, hand on your thigh, pinkies intertwined…oh you’re so in love it’s almost hard to watch how lovely you look

pulls you in to give you a kiss when the guy approaches to say goodbye and just gives up when he sees ya’ll locking lips…1:0 to your boyfriend

cheers when the guy leaves 😮‍💨

makes sure you know you should absolutely speak up if he bothers you, and offers to pick you up from work more often to hammer home the fact that you’re off the market <3

puts on a show when he picks you up, pulls up with flowers and gives you a big smooch while raising a brow at the guy…almost challenging him…oh he’s sick

#zb1 #zerobaseone #zb1 fluff #zerobaseone fluff #jiwoong fluff #hanbin fluff #zhang hao fluff #taerae fluff #matthew fluff #zb1 x reader #zb1 scenarios #zb1 taerae #zb1 hanbin #zb1 matthew #zb1 imagines #zb1 reactions #zb1 oneshots #zb1 drabbles #zb1 jiwoong #zb1 zhang hao

[tinkerbelle05]

What are you hiding?

Characters: Jaime Reyes x GN!reader

Genre: Angst

Summary: (Requested) “x reader that figure out jaime’s blue beetle.” thanks for the reqs, I hope you like it! @tacorei

Warnings: arguments, spoilers for the Blue Beetle movie, thoughts of cheating, reckless behavior

-

Jaime have been off for some weeks now, you’ve noticed. He was always showing up late for date nights and hangouts, he’s always talking to himself, and just looks out of it.

You understood, he's been going through a lot recently. With his house burning to the ground and his father still in the hospital, you allowed him understanding and grace. He has a lot on his plate so he’s allowed to be weird and difficult, and you promised yourself you wouldn’t give him a tough time about it.

He was there by you when your grandpa passed and you were a mess. You still are, at times.

That being said though, you’ve been standing out of a restaurant that he suggested y’all go to for an hour. You kept texting him, asking when he’s going to come, and he keeps saying he’s “almost there” and “around the block”.

Which is a bold face lie, and you hated be lied to. He knew that and he still did it anyway. And it wasn’t even a good one at that.

“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry,” Jaime ran up to you, holding a bouquet of crumbled-up flowers. “This for you!” His smile dimmed when he saw the state they were in though.

“Gee, thanks,” you replied dryly and walked off. You were annoyed with him. This was the 3rd time he showed up late, looking disgruntled this week. How could he not even have the decency to look somewhat put together if he’s gonna be this late. It was ridiculous.

While you walked away, you laughed bitterly to yourself, “Really thought you found the one, huh?”

“Wait, wait up!” Jaime yelled and ran after you. He looked like he cared that he was late.

You stopped walking to lean on a building, your legs were aching from all of the standing you’ve did. Jaime finally caught up to you. Your back was to him and thankfully he didn’t try to come closer to you. At least he knew boundaries.

“Listen, I’m so, so sorry. Something came up at work and I had to stay late. Really, I’m sorry. I will make it up to you. We could go back to your place, order food, binge the fast and furious movies?” He rattled off an apology.

You couldn’t see him but you can hear how desperate he was in his voice. He wanted to make it right but you don’t know if he could.

“Jaime, this dinner was supposed to be the apology and make up dinner. You know, for bailing on me last time?” You replied to him and tried to keep the tears at bay. You wouldn’t cry, you wouldn’t cry.

This is when he came closer to you, your back was still to him but You can smell his cologne. And you saw his shadow on the pavement.

“I know, I know,” he whispered softly. “I fucked up but-”

And you turned sharply around to finally face him, “Yes, yes. I know Jaime Reyes is busy at his job. Busy, busy, busy. God, what are you? Batman’s new sidekick or something?”

The outburst made Jaime take a few steps back and held up his hands in a surrender stance,“…What? Um, how…how did you know?!”

You tilted your head, confused by what he meant. “Um, know what Jaime? Are you hiding something from me?” You walked closer to him, backing up into a corner. “Is this why you’ve been distant lately? What’s up?”

He panicked, you saw the sweat dripping on his forehead and watched as he played with his hands. Something was up but he wouldn’t tell you. He probably never will.

“Oh, uh nothing. Don't worry about it,” he stammered.

You back away from him, “Well fine, if you want to be like that then. I think…that we should take a break.”

That got him out of his daze, he instantly closed the gap you made between eachother, “What? No, no, no. We don’t have to…you don’t have to do that. We..we’re fine. I’m just busy but-”

“That’s the point, Jaime,” you interrupted him. “You’re always busy, and that’s fine. But maybe you should focus on your work and y’know not lying to me.”

“I’m not lying!” He protested.

“So why were you all jumpy when I made that Batman joke then?” You asked.

“That? I….I said that was nothing. It…”

You shook your head and started back away again, “For someone who lies a lot, you are horrendously bad at it. Bye, Jaime.”

You ignored Jaime for a week. Every text message and phone call. Eventually though, he stopped trying to contact you. Which was a relief, you felt your resolve slipping everytime Jaime’s photo contact appeared on your phone.

It was one of those 0.5 pictures. You took at as revenge for the hundreds he took of you. You remember him being salty about that photo being his contact.

But in the meantime, you went down a rabbit hole of superhero lore. Jaime’s reaction to your snarky comment got you thinking, could Jaime be one?

Your immediate reaction was hell no. But when you started to mull over it, in a crooked way it sorta made sense. For example, Jaime’s behavior has been strange and he’s been looking disgruntled for a while. He has gotten a new job as an intern for Kord but it wasn’t that demanding. Your cousin had the same job and she wasn’t like well how Jaime was.

I mean, you were worried every time he was late or something. Of course, the obvious is, what if he's cheating on you? However, Jaime was many things but he’s not cheater.

So if he really is the Blue Beetle, well you saw his fights on the internet. They looked rough, and if that's him, then maybe you could help.

And maybe he’s looking all tired and being late to a lot of stuff is because he’s moonlighting as a vigilante. Through some digging you made a time line of sorts.

And…it just scares you. Not knowing.

There were some evidence to support your theory. For example, when Jaime’s house caught on fire, many people said Kord and Blue Beetle (the city’s new superhero) was sighted. Kord and the Blue Beetle were some how connected, you saw articles on that.

And around Blue Beetle’s appearance was when Jaime started acting differently. You know this rationale was being held together with glue and a hope that you could at least know where Jaime is.

But how would you even get him to admit it? If he was Blue Beetle. You walked away from and told you wanted a break, and still didn’t confess to it. And all of his texts messages weren’t alluding that he’s Blue Beetle.

Maybe…no, no, that’s dumb. But could Does it work? You think it can, you hoped it can. The Blue Beetle could fly, so if you jumped off the roof then Jamie would have no choice but to transform.

Or call the cops to retrieve your dead body.

The confidence you had in your room began to slowly chipped away as you climbed to your apartment building's roof. Your legs began to shake and your heart was beating faster than before.

But you guessed that's where the "curiosity killed the cat" quote came from. You called Jaime earlier to meet you at the rooftop to talk, he was clearly confused by the location but considering this was the first time you responded to him in weeks, he didn't reject it.

The warm air was blowing in your face when you finally reached up there, Jaime's back was turned to you.

He turned around to face you, "Hey..." He didn't move to come closer to you, just stood in his place, looking at you with those soft brown eyes.

God, he's so pretty.

And liar.

And probably a superhero.

You will find out today though.

"Hey, Jaime. How have you been?" you asked him, sheepishly.

God, why was this so awkward?

He closes the distance between you two, "Um, yeah I've been good. Could've been better, though. You?"

You scratched the back of your neck, "Yeah, I've been good too. But, um, I wanted to talk to you about something. About us." You stepped even closer to Jaime, lowering your voice to a whisper, "I know your secret, Jaime."

Jaime took a few steps backward, a shocked look on his face, "Uh what secret? What are you talking about? Is…is this shout the superhero thing? I thought you wanted to talk about us?"

"This is about us, Jaime! I know everything, why can't you just admit it already?!" your voice getting louder with each word.

You didn't want it to be like this but fine. You walked past Jaime, walking closer to the railing of the roof. You heard him running after you, panicked "Wait" and "What are you doing?" flew from his mouth.

You turned around to face him, "If you don't tell me the truth right now, I'll jump right now! I know you are Blue Beetle, Jaime."

Your declaration left Jaime speechless, all he could do was close and open his mouth repeatedly. "I...okay just get...get down okay? You're scaring me. I am not Blue Beetle, alright? You're just tired, that's all."

"You're lying to me! You keep lying and I'm sick of it! I'm not stupid or crazy, Jaime. There are too many coincidences for it to not make sense. It's not like I'll tell anyone. I just want to know.”

You could see that Jaime looked conflicted, his eyes kept darting back and forth.

Fine, if he wants it to be difficult, then you can make it difficult. You took a deep breath, closed your eyes, and fell. You prayed and prayed that Jaime was Blue Beetle because if he wasn't...

You heard Jaime scream your name and leaped after you. You saw with your own very eyes, Jaime transforming, the black and blue suit covered his skin completely, almost like the suit was his second skin.

Now Jaime was flying, with the help of blasters, instead of falling with you. He grabbed a hold of you before you could hit the ground, he held on to you tightly. Like you were grains of sand or sugar, ready to slip through his fingers at any moment without much notice.

He flew you back to the rooftop and sat you on the ground, before crushing you into a bear hug. You could practically feel his heart beating through his chest and could hear him taking deep breaths to calm himself down.

You couldn’t blame him, you were in shock too. Your boyfriend (?) was freaking Blue Beetle! I mean you had your suspicions for weeks, and your murder board led you to the conclusion that he was Blue Beetle.

But seeing it before you very eyes was completely different though. You were right! You trusted your gut and you were correct.

But that means that Jaime lied to you. To your face, for weeks. Even when your on the edge of a building, he wouldn’t even admit it!

You pushed him away, glaring up at him and saw him glaring at you with an equally furious expression.

“What is wrong with you?! How could you do something so stupid, so reckless?!” he screamed at you.

His words, though true, offended you nonetheless. And you returned it with the same energy.

“Well, I wouldn't have to do any of that if you would’ve just told me in the first place! But instead, all you did was lie, lie, and lie!” you argued back.

He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, “I was just trying to protect you! This…this life is dangerous, and I…I just wanted to protect you.”

Your anger disappeared when you heard how broken he sounded, saw how distraught he looked. His cheeks were tear-streaked and his eyes were puffy.

“I…I just don't want to lose you,” he admitted.

Seeing him like this, it made your chest hurt. Felt like it was collapsing onto it self. You wanted to hug him, kiss his tears away.

But those feelings didn’t stop the burning anger you feel. God, this was messy. It would’ve been so much easier if he was as angry as you were. You felt like kicking a puppy while it was already down.

“Jaime, being honest is protecting me. How can you not get that? How do you think it feels when you just run off in the middle of our dates? Or when you come late to them, looking frazzled? Or when you just flat out cancel on them last minute with vague explanations as to why. I didn’t know what was going on with you, and that worried me. If you told me you were Blue Beetle, I would have some comfort of knowing where you are. How can you honestly not get that?”

You took a deep breath after letting out that confession. You didn’t exactly mean to say all of that, you would have preferred to have that conversation once you both have calmed down a bit more.

And maybe not on the roof top in the middle of night as well.

Jaime was confused by your confession, “What? So..this wasn’t because you thought I was cheating?”

“Oh Jaime for the love of God, no! I know you, you aren't a cheater. It was because it scared me. I mean, how would you feel if I just disappeared all the time?!” you were back to screaming in his face with just plain annoyance now.

He had a look of understanding now, on his face. He lets out a soft “oh” and then the silence stretched in between you both as he looked everywhere but you.

God, when this become such a mess.

“Um,” Jaime cleared his throat, “So…what do you wanna do? About this? Us?”

“I…I don’t know Jaime,” you muttered. “But it’s getting late and I have work tomorrow.”

Jaime nodded but you could tell that’s not what he wanted to hear, and you didn’t either. But, maybe more space was what you two needed right now.

You watched him shot up into the sky and until he became a small dot, no different from the stars.

-

This was longer than expected. My bad lol

Tags: @fhhahaha12, @allthingsvicf, @louiesdaydream, @herrescasper, @niluuuuu, @666kpopfan, @bluecray0nn, @champagnelovers101, @starii-light, @asvterias, @wintersdeadd, @shslsimpette, @losingmywayyyy, @sodacatz, @scryarchives, @marmar-c, @strawberrycreamb, @nightwingandhissquad, @conicoroahre

Special thanks to @alienstardust for their help with this fic! 🫶🏿

Taglist & Reqs Info & Masterlist & Anonlist

#jaime reyes x reader #jaime reyes x you #jaime reyes x y/n #jaime reyes fic #jaime reyes fanfic #jaime reyes fanfiction #jaime reyes imagine #blue beetle fic #blue beetle fanfiction #blue beetle fanfic #blue beetle imagine #blue beetle x reader #blue beetle x you #blue beetle x y/n #reader insert #jaime reyes angst

[seat-safety-switch]

You can learn a lot about how something was built by watching it break. At least that's my excuse for watching over a hundred hours of YouTube "gone wrong" videos instead of actually getting any work done this week. Take, for example, the collapse of a bridge. If you'd never seen one crumble to bits and drop into the water, you wouldn't know they're made out of steel rebar with concrete poured over top. Any bridge you try to make without that knowledge would totally suck ass. In a way, that bridge gave its life so that others could live. Thanks for your sacrifice, bridge.

Among my friends who are especially productive – "capable," if you will – they get into these little funks where they get depressed about not being able to finish their projects. What they do then is create a little tiny side project, small enough that they can start and finish it quickly, and then reassure themselves that they can actually get things done. Even if those things are a little pipe cleaner kitty. Absolutely adorable, and confirms their place as creators of the universe. Destroying things is the same deal for me.

Nothing gets the old creative juices going like turning a perfectly good automatic transmission entirely into neutrals, for instance. It gets other juices going, too, but that's a problem for the highway cleanup crew to worry about. Once I've been freed of the constraint of "this car needs to run right now," then things can get kinda weird. Maybe I want to put a manual transmission in, push an extra pedal. Perhaps I want a Lenco drag-racing transmission, and I need to come up with a disguise so I can trick the guy at the swap meet into giving it to me ("Lenco inspector," I'll bark, "hand 'em over.")

So take it from me. If you're feeling stuck on a project, or otherwise uninspired, go recklessly destroy an object of actual value and watch that sucker fall apart. Holy shit! Did you know springs are in these things? I better save each and every one of these springs just in case they come in handy later. I'll probably need to build something to organize them...

[roosterforme]

Right Girl, Wrong Time Part 4 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: You and Bradley know a level of comfort with each other that neither have felt with anyone else. When you finally make it to the alumni reunion, you run into some familiar faces, making it difficult to discuss your expectations. 

Warnings: Smut, fluff, swears, and angst

Length: 3800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is a sequel to accompany my story Old Habits Die Hard (you'll want to read that one first)!

Check my profile for my masterlist

Bradley took your hand as you led him up to a cute little cottage with a crumbling front step. He was so surprised when you gave him directions to get here in the car, leading him past his old fraternity house and your old apartment building. 

"This just looks like somewhere you'd live," he muttered as you unlocked the door and led him inside. He set his suitcase down and glanced around. 

"It's cute, but it's really small. I'll take you on a thirty second tour."

You weren't joking. After half a minute, Bradley had seen everything and he'd backed you up against your bedroom door frame. "What are you wearing tonight?" he asked, placing a gentle kiss on your chin. Bradley watched your eyes flutter closed as you reached for him.

"A pretty black dress," you whispered, pulling him closer to you by his belt loops. 

He leaned on one forearm above your head and nodded. "Sounds lovely. Can't wait to take it off you later."

You smiled and laughed softly. Then you got a faraway look in your eye. "Was it weird driving past the Beta house?" Bradley just shrugged, and then you said, "I hate walking past it when I go to campus to teach."

"Why, Sugar?" he asked.

You pressed your lips together and then ducked your head away from him. Bradley gave you a moment to process what you wanted to say, but every part of him really wanted to tell you he still felt the same way about you ten years later. He didn't want to hear you tell him that your heart ached when he was standing right in front of you now.

You swallowed hard. "Because that's where I broke up with you." Your voice sounded so small, and it took you a few more seconds to meet his eyes. You laughed, but it was a hollow sound. "You always called me a smart girl, but I just don't know."

Bradley kissed your lips. "You'll always be smarter than me." 

You pushed away from the wall and cleared your throat. "I'm going to get cleaned up and get changed," you whispered, glancing down at your cum streaked thighs. 

Bradley grinned and kissed you on the forehead. Then you pulled your dress off and started walking around naked, gathering some sweatpants and a sports bra and heading to the bathroom. 

He ended up collapsing on your couch to wait for you. He was debating coming clean about living in San Diego. More than anything, since last night, he had wanted you to choose him now. Maybe you didn't want to tie him down before, but he really liked the idea of being with you again now. You made sense to him in a way that nobody else ever had. And if there was even a chance he could make you his again, he wasn't going to want to give it a go with any other woman.

"Do you want a cup of tea?" Your voice made him both eternally comfortable and also slightly uneasy now. He just nodded and watched you get two mugs of tea ready in your tiny kitchen, wearing just your sports bra and baggy sweatpants. 

When you set the mugs down on the coffee table and dropped down on the couch next to him, you were instantly snuggling up against him. He wrapped his arm around you and let your lips graze his scarred neck. 

"Are you looking forward to seeing anyone tonight?" you asked, letting your hand settle on his leg. "I haven't really kept up with anyone."

Bradley smiled and laughed softly. "Sugar, I think I subconsciously came back here just in case you were going to be here." You buried your face against him and hummed. "But to answer your question, I wouldn't mind seeing Tyson. I talk to him occasionally."

"You do? That's nice. Always thought he was too good for Janessa."

Bradley snorted. "She cheated on him like a month after we graduated."

You rolled your eyes up at him and said, "I'm not surprised."

"He always liked you. Everyone was so shocked you were with me," he said, trailing his hand along your bare skin. "Me included."

You turned to face him, fullying climbing into his lap and sitting on his left thigh. Bradley welcomed you there, almost delighting in this pleasure you were bestowing upon him before the almost certain pain he would feel tomorrow and the day after and the day after, when he returned home alone. 

You pushed your fingers up into his hair and kissed his mustache and then his lips. The tip of your nose was pressing into his cheek as you sighed and whispered, "You were the best boyfriend I ever had."

This simple sentence was echoing around in his mind. How could that be possible? After so many years? But you'd done the impossible to him, too. And you were doing it again now, the way your fingers were soothing him and making his breathing and heart rate feel so calm and even. But you were exciting him at the same time. His eyes drifted closed as he held you against him.

"Sometimes, when I've been on an aircraft carrier for too long and I haven't slept in days, the only thing I can think about at night is you." He hadn't really meant to say that out loud, and he wasn't sure he actually had until he heard and felt your sharp intake of breath. 

When Bradley opened his eyes, an expression close to confusion was clouding your face, and he didn't think he had the strength to explain himself. So he cleared his throat. "What do you say, Sugar... want to see some pictures of the carriers and my Super Hornet?"

"Okay," you agreed softly, and he was immediately digging in his pocket for his phone. 

-----------------------

You were reeling a bit, sitting on Bradley's lap while he scrolled through his photo gallery in search of some photos to show you. He still currently thinks about you. He hadn't said those exact words, but you could tell. And you still thought about and missed him too. 

"Here's one on the USS Leyte Gulf," he said, and you were treated to a photo of him in front of his aircraft. He was wearing what he referred to as his flight suit and holding his red and yellow helmet in one hand. The F/A-18 behind him was absolutely enormous, and it was painted with Lt Bradley Bradshaw "Rooster" across the side.

"Wow, Lieutenant Beer Boy," you said, and he handed you his phone and told you to scroll through them. 

"That's just before I finally got to go home. God, I look exhausted," he said. "Oh, that's Bob. We shared a bunk that time. And that's Coyote." You scrolled and looked at the most beautiful photo of the sun setting over the water. 

Then he found you a picture of him in New Zealand and another of him in Hawaii. "You've seen the whole world," you whispered with a smile. "You did everything I hoped you would."

He just held you a little tighter. 

"Oh," you whispered. "Show me a picture of your uniform."

Bradley licked his lips and looked you in the eye. "If I show you a picture, you gonna promise to leave a wet spot on my uniform pants one day?"

You pressed your lips together and kind of rolled your eyes. "You told me not to be embarrassed about that. Both times."

"It's hot, Sugar," he whispered before looking through his photos. "Here you go. My khaki uniform."

You had to stifle a moan. "Wow. Those pants look very snug, Beer Boy." Bradley tipped his head back and laughed. "Don't you have other uniforms too? Like for special occasions?"

Bradley was still chuckling. "Yeah. And you're more than welcome to get those ones wet too."

You lightly smacked his chest and he responded by kissing you. "Show me what those ones look like."

"I don't think I have any pictures saved..... oh, hang on. There are some on Instagram."

You scoffed and said, "You don't even have an Instagram account."

Bradley tiled his chin up to look at you. "How do you know that?"

He looked amused, and you couldn't lie to him. "You don't have any social media accounts. I've checked," you said softly, tangling your fingers in the fabric of his shirt. 

"That's right. You're on Instagram though. But it's set to private," he said with a grin.

"You've looked?" you asked him, burying your face in his neck. 

"Of course. Been hoping one day you'd remove the privacy settings so I could see what you look like now. The answer to that is fucking gorgeous, by the way."

"Bradley," you whispered. Your cheeks were burning hot, and you just couldn't meet his eyes.

"Here's my uniform, Sugar," he whispered, and you repositioned yourself on his lap a bit.

"Holy shit," you gasped, looking at the photo of him wearing a head to toe white uniform, including a hat that would have looked silly on most people. 

"There's one in my dress blues as well," he murmured, scrolling down to another, equally sexy looking photo. But your eyes caught on a different photo.

"Who's that?" you asked, pointing to a photo of him wearing cutoff shorts and sunglasses at the beach. He had his arm around a petite, brunette woman in a bathing suit. She was so beautiful, you felt a little sick with jealousy. "She's pretty. Was that your girlfriend?"

Bradley started laughing so hard, you weren't sure what you'd said that could have been that funny. You crossed your arms and waited for him to take a breath.

"That's Nat," he said, squeezing you against him as he wiped a tear from his eye. "And I find her quite repulsive, actually. At least as a romantic prospect, Sugar."

"How? She's so lovely," you said, still looking at the photo of them together and pouting. "Is this her Instagram account?"

"Yeah," he answered with a grin. You scrolled along, noticing that photos of her with Bradley were pretty prominently featured. There was one of them eating a pile of hot wings. There was another one of them both in their flight suits. There was one of them laying on rafts in a pool. "She is pretty. But she's vomited on me more times than I can count. She eats all the food I buy and leaves the empty packages. And she makes up horrifying nicknames for me. Just like unspeakably awful riffs on my call sign. Her favorite one is Little Chicken Cock Boy."

Now you were smiling. "She sounds like a very good friend."

"She is," he confirmed. "And she thinks you're pretty."

Your eyes went wide. "My Instagram is private."

Bradley rolled his eyes. "So is the photo I have of us from when we were twenty one. That doesn't mean she didn't get me to show it to her and Bob when I was tipsy one night."

You gasped. "You showed them a picture?" What if he still had the dirty ones you snapped in the kitchen at his fraternity house? You really hoped he did.

"Mmhmm," Bradley said, blushing profusely but still looking at you. "Nat knows all about you. When I tell her I ran into you... she's going to flip out."

"She knows about me?" Your heart wasn't going to be able to handle much more of this. He told his best friend about you. 

"All about you," he confirmed.

"Even the study room?" you asked with a smirk.

"Come on, Sugar, some things are sacred." 

"Sacred?" you said with a laugh. "I don't know if you'd call what we did in there exactly holy..." 

"Always felt like a religious experience to me," he swore, crossing his heart with his index finger. "Today was no different."

His face was a little too serious, and you knew he wasn't joking. You rested your cheek on his shoulder again, tucking your forehead against his neck. You didn't say anything else, just listened to his even breathing and melted into his warm touch.

----------------------

You dozed off with your head resting on him, and Bradley let you sleep for a while. He felt so content, he could have taken a nap too, but he knew he needed to soak up all of this time with you while he could. So he stayed awake and enjoyed the sound of your soft breathing and the feel of your weight against him. 

But it was getting late now. The sun was getting low in the sky. Neither one of you had taken a single sip of the mugs of tea that you made, and Bradley was thirsty and starving. And he assumed you would need time to get changed for the class reunion. 

"Sugar," he whispered, and you started to stir when he ran his hand along the length of your arm until he was holding your hand. "Wake up, baby."

You arched your back and sighed, your lips grazing his neck. "Bradley," you moaned softly in your sleepy voice. His cock twitched from the sound of his name on your lips. 

Then you moaned a little louder as your lips connected with his in an unhurried kiss, and Bradley no longer cared if you and he got to the reunion on time, if at all. 

You slowly positioned your legs so you were straddling his thighs, never taking your lips away from his. Bradley's hands found your hips and then reached around to grab your ass, pulling you flush against his hardening cock. 

When you released his lips and gasped, he swore to you, "I will never recover from this weekend."

And then your mouth met his again while all of your fingers tangled a little roughly in his hair. You pulled him by his hair until his lips met your neck. "Maybe I don't want you to," you whispered, and Bradley treated you to his mustache on your soft skin. "Maybe I want you to keep on thinking about me like this."

He nipped at your neck and slowly pulled your sports bra over your head. Then he tilted his head down to taste both of your tattoos, running his lips and tongue along them. "I'm never gonna be able to stop," he growled, sucking on the song lyrics he had always associated with how much he had loved you.

He let you grind slowly against him through your clothing and his, your head tipped back while he gently kissed your breasts. When you started to reach for his shirt and pull it off, you whispered, "God you feel good." 

Bradley kept your motions slow with his hands on your hips, and after another minute you were practically panting. You suddenly scrambled off of his lap and started to yank off your sweatpants. And then you were standing between his splayed legs, looking down at him. You bit your lip and let your fingers drift down along the front of your body while Bradley unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans with a groan. He watched you teasing yourself, pretty manicured fingers dipping down into your own wetness and then teasing your clit.

"God damn it, Sugar." He was yanking his jeans and boxers down below his knees, and then you were climbing back onto his lap. "I wanna go slow," he told you as he guided you closer with his big hands on your body. You nodded for him, nudging yourself against his tip and hissing. You dragged yourself along his length, soaking him with your wetness and teasing your clit with him.

Bradley's mind was focused only on you. His body felt like it was on fire everywhere you touched him with your lips. And as you sank down around him, he could feel your teeth and tongue on his shoulder, then his neck, and then his mouth.

"Oh fuck," you gasped quietly, moving your hips slowly as you rode him. You were the best. You were still the best sex of his life. For a long time, he had thought that you were just magical in that way. But now that you connected with him again physically after so long, he was pretty sure it had more to do with everything he loved about you. "Beer Boy!" You were dragging your nails through his hair again, and he could feel the tension building in your body. He knew you were getting close, the slow, smooth movements of your hips becoming more erratic. 

"Cum all over me, Sugar," he whispered, leaning his head back to watch your face as he gently palmed your tits and teased his fingers along your tattoos. "I wanna see it."

He watched every emotion and expression on your face, enjoyed every squeeze of your pussy around his cock. Absorbed every small sound you made. Relished the way your nails were digging into his shoulders. And all the while you were whining his name at increasing volume. 

He wanted to tell you exactly how he felt about you, but doing so while he was buried deep inside you seemed like simultaneously the best and worst idea he had ever had. So instead he pressed his lips to yours while you came around him, and he thrust up into you a few times until he was filling you up again. 

You collapsed against him, hands tucked behind his neck and your lips at his ear. "I... oh... Bradley."

You sounded fucking stupid, and he wanted to make you this way all the time. 

---------------------------

"How do I look?" Bradley asked you, even though he'd just spent the last twenty minutes getting himself ready and getting dressed in his suit right in front of you. 

"Sexy," you told him, and he actually had the nerve to blush a little bit. You had just finished doing your hair and makeup, and now you were pulling your dress out of your tiny closet. "Why is tonight's theme black tie formal?" you asked. "As if I really had the money to spend on this damn dress."

But Bradley's eyes went wide as you draped it across your bed. "It was worth every fucking penny," he told you with a grin. "Want me to help you put it on?"

You nodded and took your sports bra off again, letting him have a minute to kiss and stroke your breasts and your tattoos while you giggled. "Okay, okay, Beer Boy. Help me with my dress!"

Bradley groaned and helped you slip it on and then zip up the back, and when you spun to face him, you already knew where his eyes would be. 

"Sugar," he whispered reverently. Your dress had cutouts on each side, and parts of your tattoos were visible. "You look perfect."

Silently, you handed Bradley your high heels and sat on the edge of your bed while he knelt and helped you put them on. As you watched his graceful fingers rub against your ankles, your heart clenched in your chest. 

"Are you flying out tomorrow?" 

He caressed the inside of your calf before looking up at you with a guarded expression. "Yeah. I have a flight at 8 in the morning." 

You were instantly fighting a nauseous feeling that was rising up inside you while Bradley placed a kiss to your knee where the slit of your dress had fallen open. You had barely twelve more hours with him before he would be leaving in his rental car to drive to the airport. It wasn't enough time. It wasn't fair. But you drew in a shaky breath and said, "Let's make the most of it?"

It sounded like a question even to your ears, but Bradley nodded and stood, pulling you to your feet and into his arms. 

-----------------------------

There was no way you'd be able to walk to the other end of campus in your heels. Bradley offered to carry you the whole way, but you rolled your eyes and insisted on calling a ride to take you both to the UVA conference center. As Bradley helped you out of the car, he wrapped his arm around you, tucking his fingers inside the fabric of your dress cutout and making you giggle as you both disappeared into the crowd of your former classmates entering the building. 

"What the fuck?" Bradley mumbled as you and he walked through the main lobby area. "None of this was updated when we were students."

You laughed. "Looks like they used our tuition money to make everything better after we graduated."

"Ridiculous," he whispered, kissing the top of your head. 

The main hall was set up with so many tables, and there were so many people filling the space, Bradley was surprised. But you took his hand in yours and led him toward a table that was only half filled and found two seats together. Bradley glanced around, desperately wanting to avoid small talk with these people and just spend the entire night basking in your presence. But he let you introduce yourself and him to the table before he pulled you toward the bar.

"Come on, Sugar. Let's go get the good beers."

You just rested your chin on his chest and looked up at him like you still couldn't quite believe this was all happening. As the short line for drinks moved, Bradley guided you backwards with his hands on your hips.

"Thanks for being my last minute date," he said with a smile as his fingers found your exposed tattoos again. Those song lyrics were for him; he knew that, but he also knew that you were still unattainable to him.

"Thanks for coming to Virginia and making this the best weekend I've had in a very long time," you replied softly, and the smile was immediately wiped away from Bradley's lips. There was still so much he wanted to say to you. Fuck, you kept hinting at things and beating around the bush, but he just wanted to know where he stood with you now. The fact that he knew how this was going to play out, how he just knew he'd handed you his heart on a platter a second time, was probably going to kill him. Once again.

You turned your head so your cheek was pressed against his shirt right below his bowtie, and he guided you backward another step.

"Sugar, I think we need to talk about me and you. I think we should-" 

But your body stiffened in his arms, and he felt goosebumps along your arms. 

"What's wrong?" he asked, but as soon as he followed your gaze across the room, he saw what had upset you.

Bradley's focus landed on not only Jeff, but also Phoebe, sitting at the same table. And Jeff's cool eyes had settled on you and Bradley, tangled up in each other's arms. 

--------------------------

Thanks for reading and loving these two! More of the class reunion and a very important conversation coming soon. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls.

PART 5

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#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #rooster fanfic #rooster x female reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster x reader #rooster bradshaw x female reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun imagine

[yandere-wishes]

He's Just Ken

Summary: You're just Barbie, perfect on the outside, dead on the inside. He's just Ken, neither perfect on the outside nor on the inside. 

Author's note: I condone neither patriarchy nor matriarchy. But I do love exploring different forms of mental exhaustion and extreme emotional dependency.

Warnings: Mental abuse, dark mental headspace, mentions of suicide and self-harm (only if you read between the lines), yandere behavior, yandere Ken, 

Not every Barbie has a Ken. Not one for herself anyway. Every Barbie knows a Ken, but that Ken most likely belongs to her friend, or her neighbor, or one of the other Barbies. Not every Barbie has a Ken, but every Barbie knows a Ken. You know one too, one with sandy hair and ocean eyes. And a look that longs for something more. You know a Ken who keeps his heart from breaking by crossing his fingers and praying to the Malibu sun. You know a Ken who's only happy if a certain Barbie looks his way. Or rather you knew. This was before the world fell apart. This was before he destroyed it. 

Ken returned without Barbie and the universe began to crack. It's fine you thought. It's fine you hoped. Ken -That Ken, the one who waited on the beach for hours on end until his Barbie walked by- returned from the real world preaching sermons on how the Kens were better, superior, the rightful rulers of Barbieland. How they didn't need the Barbies, how they no longer needed to settle for being treated as anything less than perfect. How they needn't be number two any longer. Ken returned without Barbie and the universe wept. 

You've always known the real world was a messed up place. It had become evident when the thoughts started to creep in. That was years ago-albeit you'll admit you have no idea if Barbie years and human years aligned- years since you started to feel like a constant failure. Years since that harrowing voice began screeching endless dreadful thoughts into your cranium. Notions that festered your mind and heart, tiny maggots that chewed away at your soul. There was always something wrong and it was somehow always your fault. Then came the pain. Horizontal pangs that shot across your arm. Always in the same spot, always in a cluster of three. Barbies don't feel pain as intensely as humans, at least they're not supposed to. 

 You worried for your human back then. You truly did. But you were always too scared to leave Barbieland. Never brave enough to go find her. She's fine you hope...you doubt it though. 

You also refused to go see Weird Barbie. Too scared of being labeled as anything less than perfect. So long as these thoughts merely remained inside you and no outward defects began to show, you would be fine. You could just pretend like everything was as perfect as it always had been. 

Ken came back from the real world unscratched. Yet his words hit a chord within every other Ken. They began to take over. The Barbies were reduced to accessories. Pretty little things that clung to their lovers. Dressed in short skirts and maid outfits. Turned into what they weren't. 

Ken destroyed what once was perfect. Yet all you could think as you watch the pillars of your homeland cripple and your friends descend into madness. Was how utterly beautiful he was.

The world turned upside down. 

Barbieland fell.

Kendome rose. 

And yet as everything the Barbies had worked all so hard to build came crumbling down. As your friends and neighbors began to lose themselves and submit to a tyrannical patriarchy. You found yourself utterly unaltered. Your world had been destroyed long ago. This was just another calamity that you would fake your way through. It would be easy, a lifetime of practice finally paying off. Stay quiet, stay in the shadows, no one would notice.

No one was supposed to notice...

Ken found you on the beach one night. A day or two after the hostile Ken takeover. He walked up behind you out of breath as if he'd been running. 

The bonfire crackles, a warning, and a love song. Until now you'd only ever existed in his sideview. An afterthought as he impaled his heart and called it love. You had burned yourself in his rays and called it love. You're convinced neither of you knows what love truly is. The moon's rays dance as you two sit side by side. In the distance, you see Blue Mermaid Barbie and Mermaid Ken share a tender kiss. An unparalleled sight. 

Ken sits next to you. Eyes following your every move. Scanning every dip and curve of your plastic corpse. He's just Ken you remind yourself with an uneasy breath. He's just Ken, nothing to fear. Although you're not entirely sure if those old ideologies shine through. He's Ken but somehow he's become unstable at worst, flammable at best. Something radioactive ticks inside of him waiting to detonate. Waiting to make the world feel a trace of his pain. 

Ken's fingers intertwine with yours as waves of helplessness crash across your body. You were created to be ethereal yet all you see is perfection molded in the shape of Ken's face. He leans in, carelessly placing his chin in the subspace of your neck as he whispers. "I see the way you look at me" his warm breath tickles the shell of your ear. You flinch, in time with the breaking of the waves. "I know you want me" Reality blurs when Ken touches you. He pulls you between his legs as his lips kiss the back of your neck. His fingers run up and down your arm as if he's trying to memorize your shape, your soul, you. It's romantic you think but all you feel is puka shell shards stabbing your flesh. You know he's dreamed of this intimacy with the other Barbie. 

you wonder if in his eyes you are merely a ghost. One he resurrected with desperate love and a broken heart. You wonder if he sees her, feels her, wants her. Yet he'll settle for you. The next best thing. The other stereotypical Barbie. Somewhere along the line, your own voice sounds, foreign to you. He's talking, his voice is smooth like silk. Fragile like window glass after a bombing. He asks you something, something you've dreamed of for all so long. He asks you to be his bride wife. You agree despite how degrading it sounds. 

What once was a pink haven of fun and joy has now been turned into a mess of horses and black sunglasses. Barbie's dreamhouse is now Ken's Mojo Dojo Casa House. You feel like an intruder, like a traitor. You feel loved, wanted, needed. Someone once told you that truths can co-exist. It's all you can think to save yourself from going mad. 

There's an unspoken easiness that comes with being with Ken. The way he's always around. His hands never leave you, tracing stars on your arms, running through your hair. He wants his presence to be felt. 

"I like this" you confess one night as you rest your head on his arm. "I've always felt...less than perfect. Like I couldn't be good at anything like the other Barbies." Ken laughs and it feels like the stars have cladded you in their warmth. He pinches your nose with a soft smile. "I know the feeling," he mutters and you feel your heart crack. "But you don't have to worry about that. I'm here and so long as you're with me. We're both going to be perfect." You snuggle into his chest as you close your eyes. "Ken and Barbie" you sing, a mantra, a prayer. One for a better future. One for a happy life. 

You have a dream house. Had one at least. You sometimes wonder which Ken lives there now. You wonder if his Barbie feels your presence radiating off the walls and the floor and the heart-shaped night lamp you once treasured. You certainly feel Stereotypical Barbie's presence echoing from every corner. You see her ghost whenever Ken pulls you onto his lap to watch a horse flick. Infuriated and distressed. You wonder if she's angry because you didn't join the rebellion. You wonder if she's angry because she thinks you took Ken away. You see her ghost again, feel her between the pause of two breaths. She glitches and fades as you hide your face in Ken's mink coat. 

"I don't like being apart from you" Ken claims as he lays your body on top of his. One hand dangling off the couch the other curling your loose locks. To Ken a touch away feels like being galaxies apart. You kiss his chin and his cheek and his nose and finally his lips. It feels like a dream. One you refuse to wake up from. 

Ken is gold.

Unmetable and solid.A kaleidoscope of hope

He has so much potential rotting inside of him.

Ken is gold.

Beautiful and everlasting.

His value lies in how pretty he is. How good of an accessory he's willing to be. 

You wonder if he's sick of being gold. 

You felt Barbie's ghost again today. This time looming and aggravated. She wants her presence acknowledged. She has something she needs to say. Ken was out, one of the rare times you two spend apart. Something about a beach off and rock paper scissors. 

You wonder if a ghost haunting is their way of showing love. 

You wonder if the Kens starting a rebellion is their way of showing love. 

Barbie talks for ten minutes straight. You cling to every word, you forgot how much you missed the Other Barbie's voice. It's in the final beat of her sentence that you notice she's not a ghost. Not this time. This is Barbie, the girl who had been your friend since the day you left your box. "Help me" she pleads as she grabs your shoulders. "We need to fix this", you turn your head and smile a broken smile. "I can't" you confess. 

It's easy to undo brainwashing. Even easier to reinstate it. What Stereotypical Barbie and her friends can undo. You can simply redo. Even Barbies prefer ease, a few simple half-truths sung into the right ear at the right time. And the once normalized Barbies are running back to their Kens. You turn, in the rays of the golden sun, you see Barbie. Her eyes hold glimmers of unshed tears. She wears her betrayal on her pink sleeve. "Why" she whispers as her fingers reach out to hover over your heart before she retracts them. You think you may have burned her. You think she's afraid of being plagued by your depravity.

You feel like a traitor, like a monster. A creature made of pink lipgloss and shattered vows. should Kendom fall, you know your delicate dream life will fall with it. You stare into her eyes. And the words that leave your mouth feel so rehearsed, yet you swear it's the first time you've uttered them. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you both when you went through hell. I'm sorry I wasn't there when the world collapsed and you ran from the debris. I'm sorry I can't help you pick up the pieces and rebuild what once was yours.., ours. I'm sorry I'm so selfish". 

Immortal hearts are cursed with the loneliest beats. Maybe that's why the other Barbies never bothered to ponder their endless existence. Maybe that's why the Kens always clung to false promises of love. Maybe saying I love you is the same as saying I'm letting you go. Stereotypical Barbie has already reached this conclusion, you know this. For a fraction of a juncture, she looks into your eyes. Trying to reason and plea and hope all in the same breath. When you say nothing more her eyes shine with grief as she turns on her heels and runs for the hilled house. You reach out to her, yet only grasp the warm Malibu breeze. 

What do you call a person such as yourself? 

Coward...

That sounds about right. 

Ken kisses your neck, and it feels like lava sprinkling along your skin. You feel like a defeated soldier drowning in a sea of guilt. Survivor's guilt a voice echo inside your head familiar yet all so distant. A ghost from a past life or a current one unseeable to you. "I have it too" the voice replies. You wonder if it's the voice of an angel or a mortal girl. You don't tell him about the Barbie resistance or how easily they can reverse the brainwashing. You work best alone anyway. 

You hear the word death replay in the background as Ken bites a sensitive spot. A faint noise, a haunting whisper. You hear the word death and it sounds more familiar than the name Barbie that has rolled off your tongue every day since birth. 

Ken harbors you inside the once was dreamhouse like a forbidden secret. Sometimes the skirts feel too short. Sometimes the world feels too heavy. You always feel the eyes of the other Kens on you. You think Ken planned it that way to show the Ken world who you belong to. Just last week he took you to the beach. Both of you wearing matching pastel blues and silver earrings. Other Ken was there also adorned in pastel blue and silver earrings. You see the twitch in your Ken's jaw, the icy glare when Other Ken waves to you. "Let's go," he says, commandes really. He throws you over his shoulder and you're heading back the way you came. "I really wanted to see Mermaid Barbie..." You pout. "No no, you wanted to see a movie remember?" Ken corrects you, to be honest, he does that often. You're starting to doubt you even know your own wants anymore. 

Today Ken has you dressed in a pink and white dress. You remember Setrotypical Barbie use to love this dress. You run around the kitchen cooking a pretend dinner. You really want to go shipping, to pick out something you'd like. A rose pink Lolita skirt and a matching button-up. You really want to die. Although that's normal you always want to go shopping. You always want to die. You wonder if Ken will ever let you pick out your own dresses. You leave his plate in front of him as you loop your arms around his neck. You rest your chin on his head as he pulls you closer. Not picking your own clothes is a small price to pay for the intimacy you've craved for far too long. 

"Never has there ever been a girl as pretty" Ken whispers as he relishes in your presence. 

"Do you have any idea what you are?" He rasps, his lips hovering over yours. You're both sitting on the bed, watching the sun die for the day. 

Ken is a monster. At least that's what you're supposed to think. You have something in your mind something that squirmes around in what can only be described as reason. To call it wits and a conscious would be an overstatement. Lucide is a better word. Weak and brittle yet somehow still standing. Deep inside, your heart refuses to call Ken anything other than hero, savior, salvation. 

"I'm yours" it's the first truth that's left your mouth in a long long time. You cup his cheeks and kiss him with all the doom and gratitude that lies within you. And Wow Ken tastes like mint ice cream and shooting stars. Like dead dreams that lay on the tip of your tongue. He's the beach at night and the evermore gardens during the day. He's everything good and confusing and painful and sweet. Ken nibbles your ear, playfully, and coos sweet words into your soul. Spinning tales of how you'll be together forever. You soak in his presence, rolling his name around in your head. You keep your head filled with him before your own thoughts give you a heart attack. 

You're Barbie but now you are so much more than that. You're his Barbie. Ken's Barbie. Damaged yet simultaneously perfect. And he's perfect too, mesmerizing when the sun's rouge rays kiss his pretty face, bathing him in golden ichor.

You wonder if perfection and imperfection have always been in love. 

 Sometimes in the dead of night, you think of the little girl playing with you. Albit she isn't a little girl anymore, is she? Kids grow up. clawing and biting through the painful transformation. Sometimes it leaves their minds fragmented. Sometimes it leaves them less than whole. 

Judging by how long it's been, your little girl is grown up by now. You close your eyes and give Ken a final kiss before sleep overtakes you. You hope she's okay, even though you know that can never be true. Being "okay" doesn't seem to be a real thing in this universe. 

Because girls are broken and the universe knows this 

Because boys are broken and the universe knows this 

Because the universe does nothing. Just sits there and watches as life bends and breaks itself over and over again

Barbieland is broken too, imperfect and destroyed.

And so are the two of you. 

Yet in the end, it doesn't matter. 

For as broken as the world is the most important of things has been resolved. 

Ken has his Barbie.

And Barbie has her Ken. 

#barbie #the barbie moive #barbie moive #barbieheimer #margo robbie #ryan gosling #greta gerwig #ken #ken x reader #ken barbie #yandere ken x reader #fluff #yandere #ken x you #ryan gosling ken #ryan gosling x reader #ryan gosling x you #barbiecore #yancore #yandere x reader #yandere x you #ken headcanons #ken imagins #yandere imagines #barbie and ken #barbie aesthetic #yandere aesthetic #barbie x reader #margot robbie #margot barbie

[fandomwritingbit]

william afton x afab reader x henry emily 

A/n: I have no idea what this is. Pure horny weirdness ig, just uh... enjoy?

Warnings: swearing, smut, voyeurism and inappropriate relationships

It was that time of day where Henry found no choice but to go and interact with his co-worker, he had a plastic wallet thick with documents that he’d wanted to see, something about monitoring stock after a big party. To be honest, Henry didn’t really see the point, the accountant could do it when they come in on Fridays, but hell, keep the peace. He took himself across the building and down the maintenance corridor which housed William at the end of it. But the second he stepped in and the staff-only door closed behind him, he was greeted with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and he stood for a moment in sheer disbelief. 

He finally moved closer to William’s office, the sounds more apparent and lewder, the desperate moaning from you coupled with the wet sounds of William using your cunt. Then it struck him who you are. You, the relatively new day security guard. He liked you because you’re sweet and very capable, and yes, gorgeous; and at hearing your intimate noises and sighs he found himself rock hard under his trousers. His eyes widened in panic, he couldn’t see why he didn’t just walk away and come back later but God, he was throbbing, the image of your pretty body underneath him was too fucking good.

Hating himself the moment he thinks of it, Henry peeks his head around the corner to see Will’s back, mercifully still dressed, and your legs wrapped around his waist. He can’t take his eyes off the spectacle, your scratches on his shoulders and knee hooking him in, he’s suddenly overcome with a wave of pungent jealousy. He tears himself away and collapses against the wall outside the office, just obscured by the door frame, his cock prominent and visibly erect through the fabric. And he falls victim to your mewls and begins stroking himself, hopeful that the ruffling of his clothes as he freed himself wouldn’t give him away. 

It felt gross, but only for a few seconds as he lost himself in the idea of fucking you himself and feeling of his cock in his hand. He matches his pace to your moans, trying to block out the sounds of his co-worker, and only half succeeding. Thrusting his dick into his hand with the picture of the two of you at the forefront of his mind, trying to keep himself quiet. 

“Fuck, Will.” you half-squeal half-laugh as he pushes your back flat against the desk you’re being pounded on, pulling on his arms to get him closer to you. “God, I’m gonna cum. Don’t stop. Please...” His cock fit so well inside you, stretching you open and repeatedly hitting that spot inside you that made you crumble.

You do, clamping down around him in the most perfectly tight way. “You dirty fucking girl. You gonna let me cum in that pretty mouth of yours? Huh?” The rasp in his voice makes you shiver.

“Noooo,” you whine, not letting him pull out of you. “Inside, Will. I want it inside.” you squeal again as he ruts into you harder, his pace staggering as he gets closer.

Your words were now etched into Henry's mind, you asked for him inside, hell, near begged for it. You still were, though it became more and more incoherent. He couldn’t believe how filthy that was, how that came from you and not some video on his phone. At your moaning he came, not having thought it through at all, releasing his load on the tilled floor, having to bite his arm to stop any sounds escaping. 

When he gained enough sense about him to fix himself, Henry put himself away and dabbed at some sweat coating his brow, still swimming in the high. He ignored the urge to flee back to his own office, instead listening to hear the aftermath of your activity. 

“You are absolute filth, my dear. Really going to finish your shift like that?” You grin, letting his cum seep out of you, still sat with your legs spread on his desk. Henry could only dream of the sight.

“Why, is it distracting?” From out the door Henry can hear William chuckling, followed by the sound of you hopping off the desk. Your boss watches you shimmy your knickers back up your legs, only half catching his release and your slick, then your skirt which you smooth down even though it did nothing to make you look more presentable. 

You go to move past your boss, your make up smudged. “Get yourself here after hours.” He speaks into your ear, as you walk out the door, slapping your arse when you pass him, a smirk on his face. 

As you opened the door, Henry did his best to make it look like he’d just arrived, in the traditional sense and not the way he had, giving you a polite smile without meeting your eyes. 

“Oh hey, Mr Emily.” you say, taking a moment to look at him, “You alright?”

His breath hitched at your question, but you didn’t quite realise why. You must be too fucked out. “Yes, uh fine.” He manages, internally willing you to just walk away. You do, smiling at him in your usual friendly way like he didn’t just hear you ask your boss to fill you up.

“Henry...” Will emerged himself, his tie undone. He raises his hands, presenting his palms, speaking jokingly, “I can explain.”

He sighs, “Yeah, I’ll bet.” His sarcastic tone and the look on his face told William more that he would have liked. 

His head fell back in laughter, “You heard then?” When Henry’s face didn’t change, he just laughed again taking a minute to curb it before finally asking, “What are you here for, Henry?” though the grin remained. 

“I have the inventory documents you wanted, after the big party.” He says dryly, eager to end this conversation and avoid more gloating, because his jealousy was evident, as was the proof of his activity still on the floor. 

Henry is faced with a look of boredom from Will that pretty much mirrored his own expression. “Just leave it on my d- actually, not the desk. The uh filling cabinet, leave it there. I need a piss and a smoke.” He moved past Henry, adjusting his tie as he walked away. 

About half a pace from where he left his co-worker stood, he slips, his heel catching the mess Henry had left on the floor. It was only brief, but enough to make him look down at the stickiness on his shoe in disgust, though fortunately to Henry he didn’t catch on. 

“And get a fucking cleaner in here, shit.”

#william afton #henry emily #william afton x reader #william afton x you #henry emily x reader #henry emily x you #afab reader #william afton smut #Henry Emily smut #fnaf smut

[gabessquishytum]

Burgess didn't summon Dream of the Endless in human form, he called to the Eldritch manifestation -- the "monster" with no human form and tentacles, that drives men crazy to look upon it.

Everything, human & animal, in the Burgess manse died the night of the summoning. Everyone in town or some miles from the actual house that didn’t die when Dream initally manifest went crazy. And unfortunately, Dream was trapped and couldn't free himself from Fawlty Rigg. The land and the house became a haunted and derelict, crumbling, with the Eldritch Dream trapped.

The crazy spread through the surrounding area slowly, but inexorably. With Dream forgotten, with his humanoid shape unknown,,,,,with the "story" of haunted land growing.

Hob, working on his first degree, on old architecture with haunted pasts goes to investigate for his thesis. Hob is old 😏 and has found that while most places, structures, have interesting histories, they are very rarely haunted.

Hob heard about the area around Fawlty Rigg being cursed, and certainly it was fodder for tales (Lovecraft's The Color Out of Space seemingly based on the area was published 30-ish years ago). But Hob has yet to find a place that drove him mad.

When he gets there a flock of ravens seem to be watching him - so at least animals are back?!? And creepy. Hob is only there for a few days when he thinks he hears his name being whispered on the air from the basement?? (a basement he hasn't been able to get into yet.) And every time he goes out to his car, there was a raven sitting on it,,,,,and today it spoke his name. So maybe this place is driving him crazy.

Jessamy: Hob Gadling! Thank dreaming. You can save Lord Morpheus!

Hob: I can save who now?

The raven tells him that his centennial stranger is trapped,,,,in the basement of this crumbling building. And that his presence has weaponized dreams and nightmares for the people in the surrounding area, driving every one mad! Hob as one of the only people who remembers, knows, Lord Morpheus's humanoid form, might be the only one who can help Jessamy's king back to himself.

Oooh this is a really interesting concept. Imagine what it's like for Hob as he goes through the crumbling house, into the basement, surrounded by the crushing feeling that something is just wrong in the air. Hob has felt a lot of weird stuff in his life but this is something else.

The thing contained in glass sphere is a squirming, pulsing, writhing. It's absolutely terrifying, and Hob nearly turns tail and runs. But at this point in his life he's not the type of man to just leave any kind creature locked up in a cage. He does as Jessamy told him, wipes away the paint around the sphere... and covers his eyes.

The sphere explodes, and Hob’s brain nearly explodes too. His consciousness is overwhelmed by an extreme burst of power. His nose is bleeding and he's still seeing terrible images in his brain when the explosion dies down and he manages to pry open his eyes.

There's his centennial stranger, sitting in the middle of the broken glass with sand seeming to pour around him. His eyes are glowing faintly and he's just looking at Hob.

And Hob isn't sure if he's gone mad like the rest of the people in the area, but he stumbles across the basement and scoops his stranger up in his arms, away from the glass. He's muttering that it's gonna be ok, and his stranger is clinging onto his and still leaking sand... its horrible. But Hob has never felt such pure joy in his heart.

He'd love to know what the hell he's holding in his arms! He's fascinated and, lets be real, kind of turned on by the idea of his stranger's power. He could swear that Jessamy winks at him on the way to the car.

Hob’s life just got hella fuckin weird... but hes going to do whatever it takes to nurse his stranger back to his natural self. However much sand he gets in the car.

#the sandman #dreamling #nsft

[yantako]

Yandere MC that Snaps after tolerating the Yanderes.

ft. Idia, Malleus

I have no clue how to write Idia's part so much so I think it has just devolved into funny content :sob:

Prequel | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Idia Shroud

• You started to notice your cat becoming more attached to the blue-haired flame-cladded individual. Your cat always seems so excited to meet him and also, well, he was too, always so happy to hug your cat. However, the closer they get, the more empty your heart feels. It felt like something was amiss as if there was a black hole eating up your emotions. With such an occurrence, there was another gnawing feeling that refilled that hole. A slimy goop of negative feelings was slowly being developed.

• Idia had initially considered this tactic a win, from whatever anime textbook he consulted. 1, he gets to befriend another campus cat and bathe in its adorable antics. 2, he can possibly build a connection with you through the same cat. And if he's feeling extra strategic, maybe he would have a chance to make you feel lonely enough to rely on him, right?

• However, that is only wishful thinking for him. He managed to succeed with his plans but failed to realise the growing dissatisfaction you had. He wanted you to rely on him with that void you have but instead, he was greeted with another surprise.

• Because of such strong feelings you had towards Idia, you would constantly start to avoid him, especially with your cat. You didn't want your cat to continue getting closer to that person. After all, he's just a stay-home neet, lacks social skills, always running from confrontation, always only on the damned tablet, whatever insult you can conjure of him. You'd begin avoiding the common areas and his most seen in-person locations. Of course, as much as your cat whines and whimpers, you try to bathe it in as much attention as you can to combat the impact Idia had on it.

• The first few times that you had deliberately avoided him, Idia thought it must have been a mistake. He tried to come up to you with a smile once, but suddenly you disappeared faster than he could push himself to approach you. However, after it has been going on for at least a week or two, he started to notice that you were doing this on purpose. He's not that lacking in people skills to dismiss as a mistake, even if he wants to do so. Of course, that made him mad. But, what could he do? Cry in his room like a little bitch? Well, yea, maybe that did happen for a few days. Ortho was concerned.

• However, his behaviour didn't escalate until he saw a Savannaclaw student interact with the cat, right in front of his eyes. The betrayal that he felt when another touches the cat, he will repay it. But his target wasn't you.

• In a matter of a few days, when you decided to meet the Savannaclaw student along with the cat, it ended up in a tragic disaster. The student looked at you with eyes filled with distrust and suspicion, and at the same time, fear towards your cat. When you approached him, you can feel him immediately tense up. "What do you want?"

"I just want to say hi-"

"Stay away!" He screamed and raised his arms, about to push you down.

However, the implicated one was your cat who took the brunt for you. The student definitely placed a lot of strength into it, because your cat was clearly in pain after being pushed. Of course, you started to panic as the Savannaclaw student seemed to be in shock at the situation. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean for this to happen." You can see the distress and regret on his face as his mental state crumbles along with his legs.

• It was weird for you to see the Savannaclaw student in such a state. After getting your cat treated at the nearest vet, you came to find out from his closest friend about him being cyber bullied online. He was being slandered for terrible things that he did not do and was also being doxxed. He did not want to drag you into the situation but his terrible mental state prevented him from thinking straight and used too much aggression in pushing you away.

• Somehow, a certain someone floated into your mind when hearing about his situation. Ortho only confirmed your suspicions after that when he asked if there was anything that happened between you and his brother. Ortho was worried as Idia had stayed up for several nights using the computer while repeating your name.

• This only contributed to the negativity you had already held towards him. You felt like something in you snapped.

• "O-oh, why are you here?" Idia stammered when he suddenly saw you outside his room door, peeking at you from behind. With all your strength, you pushed the door and went inside, scanning through his room filled with equipment and technology, as well as figurines and assorted merchandise.

• You immediately took one of the bigger figurines on the shelves and swung it across the shelf, knocking down all of the merchandise on to the floor. Idia watched in shock and terror, both at the sight of his precious collection being furiously stomped on by you and the sight of your poker face emitting rage. He could not even get angry and pissed due to the overwhelming pressure you exude.

• You tilted your head up after making a huge mess of his figurines, broken pieces laid over the floor. Your relieved face seem to be hinting at Idia that it won't be the last time you do this.

• Look at what you did, Idia. If a rare figurine won't stop you from committing atrocities, maybe your beautifully crafted PC will? Did Love Sled deserve this???

Malleus Draconia

• It was weird how the cat just simply disappeared from the face of the earth one day. It was big and noticeable and the student body all knew about it. Of course, you found it suspicious.

• Though, the more suspicious thing was actually Malleus' reaction towards the cat's disappearance. What do you mean it probably went to go find milk and got lost? Shouldn't you be more worried about it getting lost? It's just simply not something to be smiling about and be treated trivially.

• The more suspicions you had, the more frustrated you became. And the more frustrated you became, the motivation to meet Malleus or have a chat with him grew. The nightly talks between the both of you soon became lesser and the dragon fae felt wronged by your disappearance.

• However, the fae does not confront you about it.

• You tried your best to search for pieces of evidence, but it was unfruitful. No matter how much detective work you did, no one had the answer for you. It really just seemed as though the cat had simply disappeared.

• That is until a certain green-haired man came knocking on your door in frustration with his loud voice booming through the front door. "Human!"

You opened the door to look at Sebek, unamused at his behaviour.

"Hmph, how rude of you to come facing me like this after you have made my master upset at your attitude towards him! I'll have you know that my master went to lengths to majestically protect you and your feeble life!" He scoffed at you. Even though he was acting like such a prick, the little glances he gave you as he looked away showed a hint of worry. However, your ears perked up at his ending statements.

You curiously asked. "What do you mean by protecting me? Is there a danger I did not know about?"

• Sebek simply puffed his chest and proudly exclaimed. "Of course! My master had eradicated that monstrous cat for the sake of your peaceful school life!"

• As soon as you heard that, everything clicked in your head. You felt a lump in your throat as you tried your best to stay calm. The anger was starting to boil in your chest. The reasons why Malleus had acted so dismissively in front of you about the cat and the reason why there was no form of evidence that you, a magicless human, could find. Your spine started to emit a chill that stunned you.

• In an effort to avoid venting your anger on Sebek, you slammed the door in his face. He stood there confused before knocking on your door and calling for you again. After fruitless attempts, the loud man finally gave up and went back to Diasomnia.

• You felt absolutely betrayed by Malleus. The feelings started to creep into your head as you think and think about his actions, and finally, something snapped in you.

• After a few weeks, you met him back again in the broken gardens of Ramshackle. His face lit in delight as he finally sees you again, looking at him. Are you finally noticing him, child of man?

• You smiled at him, which took him aback. Slowly but surely, from the depths of your pocket, you took out a knife before attempting to slide it across your throat. You thought long and hard about this, the one person that Malleus was deathly afraid to lose. The one person he cared so much about. The one person who he felt an affinity with and was always trying to converse with them. Wasn't it the magicless human, you?

• Shocked and deathly afraid of whatever you were about to do, Malleus immediately used his magic to disarm your knife and grabbed your shoulders, tightly holding onto you. "Child of man, What do you think you are doing?" His face contorted into a furious scowl as he confronted you.

• However, you simply smiled and laughed. Feeling creeped out by your uncharacteristic actions, Malleus grabbed you tighter, demanding a reason.

• You simply looked him in the eye, as you said. "Would you have preferred me doing it behind your back then?"

• Malleus felt the guilt crawl up to him as he listened to your words. He knew exactly what you had meant with such a cryptic question.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst wonderland #twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #yandere malleus draconia #idia shroud #yandere idia shroud #idia x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #twst headcanons

[leathfaic]

Soap and Ghost have been a thing for a while, spending their leaves together whenever possible, holed up at Soap's place for the most part, only ever in Manchester when Ghost wants to visit his families graves and they don't want to drive back up that day.

When the call comes that there's been damage to his flat Soap has to leave alone, Simon is out on one of the solo missions they love to send him on. So all Johnny can really do is leave a scribbled note on his bed that he's home sorting trouble with the flat.

A few days later Ghost returns, a bit miffed when he doesn't find Johnny waiting for him on the tarmac or in his barracks. Price brings him up to speed though and the letter explains the rest.

Soap is surprised when he opens the door to Simon in his civilian clothes, hadn't even gotten a text saying he's back, "What are ye doing here ye bampot? Dinnae get ma note that the whole flat is a mouldy mess?"

"Though' you'd appreciate some help." Simon just shrugs looking a little forlorn on the doorstep, suddenly not sure if showing up uninvited was the right move.

Soap grabs his man and pulls him into the flat before the huge fucker can decide to bugger off with his feelings all hurt.

"Ah'd love yer help, juist didnae expect ye to want to spend yer time in ma mouldy paradise after juist returning from a mission. Dinnae exactly haeve amenities exactly, yeah?"

He really doesn't. The flat is a fucking disaster, the one above had a pipe burst while the inhabitants were on vacation, water leaking unchecked for days, it's a bloody miracle that the building is still statically sound. But all the moisture seeped in to the flat below. And when anyone thought of informing him for possible damages it was too late. There's barely a room left untouched. Soap's been sleeping in a nearby hotel, going through his belongings saving what can be saved before calling in professionals to clean out the mold.

There's no way he'll give up the flat, they both know that, it was his grandmother's before, getting passed on to him when she moved to a retirement home. It's where Johnny grew up, his nan taking him in when his parents gave up on him.

So Ghost helps Soap sort out the mess, save what they can save, which luckily includes a lot of priced memories, but they know that pretty much all furniture is a loss. Floors, walls and ceilings will have to be redone too. Be that as it may they spend the rest of the day to also takeling care of the other reasons Soap can't just let a crew of cleaners walk in too. All traces of him being anything but a normal soldier carefully erased, packed up, hidden.

When they crash at the hotel late at night Johnny is still restless, the way he gets when some bug mission is about to start.

"Didn't know furniture shopping for your fla' would get you tha' riled up, sweetheart."

It's meant as harmless teasing, of making Johnny focus his energy on him and getting it out.

Instead the other man seems to dial it up, is not just squirming but also biting his lips now.

Fuck, he hasn't seen him like that unless whatever is about to go off is deadly serious.

So when Soap turns to him Simon stills, waits for the catastrophe that clearly is about to happen. For everything to come crumbling down around them, because that's how his life tends to go.

Instead, with the smallest voice he's ever heard on the man, Johnny makes his world fall into place like it never has before.

"What if we were nae getting stuff for ma place but rather, ye ken our place?

Our place.

It's rare that anything manages to make Ghost freeze anymore. But this? This does it.

He only shakes himself out of it when he sees panic and regret well up in Soap's eyes, can't have that after all. Mouth still not willing to obey his command he drags the other man into a crushing embrace, burying his face in the shower-damn mohawk.

"I think I'd like tha'." he mumbles eventually, his voice all weird and off, gruff from fighting the all the emotion but soft from the love that punches itself clean through all his defenses.

In his arms Soap drains of all tension. Mission accomplished no reason to be nervous now.

He falls asleep in Simons arms like that, deep breaths softly caressing his chest.

Ghost lies awake, his heart pounding a steady rhythm of excitement now.

He's going to go shopping with Soap tomorrow.

For their place. For their home.

Wild joy mixes with perfidious apprehension, parts of his brain refusing that this will really happen, convinced that Soap will wake up, having thought better of it.

That home is a concept lost to him. He is the Ghost for a reason after all.

He doesn't get a wink of sleep. His mocking of Soaps nerves ringing hollow in his ears.

Instead he braces himself, ready to meet the rejection head on, not let it show on his face, makes himself cold as ice.

"Ye look like we're heading to war not to keek at stuff for our home, love."

The armor of ice built meticulously over sleepless hours melts all at once.

"You really sure you want to share a 'ome with me Johnny?"

"Yeah Simon Riley, ye big daftie, think Ah'd nearly piss ma pants and ask ye, just to pull a fast one?"

For the second time in as many days Ghost shrugs helplessly, no defense of his a match for the things Soap makes him feel.

The man knows him too bloody well too, drags him out of the hotel room and gets them going. Let's actions speak over words. A language that works far better for Simon.

Who finds himself in store after store full of furniture, wallpapers and stuff where he comes to find that maybe he is not equipped to handle this.

Part 2

#Part 1 of probably 2 #Check back in for fully trained sas soldiers getting emotionally lost in ikea #ghostsoap #soapghost #simon ghost riley #cod mwii #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #cod mw2 #cod #ghoap #cod hc

[tonythr]

Floating platforms in Hollow Knight are weird, lore-wise

Soooo I haven't seen anyone actually talk about this, but those things just keep *bugging* me.

These things.

Why did Team Cherry put these particular platforms in the background?

Ok, there are numerous floating platforms in this game, of course, because the player needs them to traverse big spacey rooms vertically. They're not even an issue lore-wise, because their existence can be explained by them being attached to the fourth wall, which is what the player looks at the Knight through. It's basically a game construct that we are not supposed to think about as a part of the suspension of disbelief.

BUT THOSE THINGS are not attached to any wall! They're just. Floating. There. In the air. Without any support. And THEIR existence can't be explained by the game wanting to provide the player some convenience. The Knight can't interact with them, we never see anyone else use them or even acknowledge them, so they MUST be something that TC put there for lore reasons, as a part of that beautiful thing that we call environmental storytelling... Right?

That or they just put them there without really thinking about the implications that this anomaly creates. But that's a boring and very unlikely explanation, so I'm just going to discuss what that might mean for the game's lore, assuming they're put there intentionally.

So, I have several thoughts on why those platforms might exist as a part of the in-game universe.

First theory. Hallownest is literally frozen in time

Ok, so this is probably the most obvious one. Throughout the game we see some evidence of the Kingdom being literally put on hold with the intention to keep it alive indefinitely.

This is pretty much what is implied in the tablet in the Pale King's workshop - that PK was trying to literally pause Time itself, so that the inevitable Dawn would never Break.

(Quite an interesting theme, actually - the idea of avoiding the inevitable not by trying to actually avoid letting it happen, but by delaying it by an infinite amount of time. It deserves its own post, really)

So, with Time itself being literally frozen, it's pretty safe to assume that this is exactly the reason as to why some parts of the Kingdom are literally stuck in one place, right? I mean, it's pretty much a trope to have floating rocks and buildings in a place that is stuck in some kind of time stasis. I'd say this is a pretty solid assumption, but when we actually look at some of the other parts of Hallownest we see that it's pretty lively for a place that is frozen in time. The rain is pouring, the stalactites are falling, all those machines in the Crystal Peak are still working...

Some of that stuff can actually be explained by either the Radiance's influence or the Knight's movement. The Infection is presented as the inevitable force of change that resurrects everything and moves it towards Light. The air thickens, the bugs arise from the dead, the Infection takes over the Crossroads, the Moss cultists get turned into mush, and so on. Meanwhile, other creatures possessing a Will are also capable of bringing change to this land. The Knight constantly breaks things, forces the ground to crumble beneath its feet, and overall just brings destruction to Hallownest, bringing the world closer to its natural end. It's no wonder that the stalactites start falling conveniently right as the Knight passes underneath them.

BUT there are still many things that can't be explained so easily. Like, if the Kingdom is supposed to be frozen in time, then why is the rain still pouring? Why is the Wyrm's ash still falling at the Kingdom's Edge? Why is the sand still falling from the ceiling? Why do larger things seem to be fixed in place, while smaller things are seemingly unaffected by the Kingdom's stasis?

That and the fact that at no point we see these floating platforms being acknowledged by the game's lore in any way other than those two places makes me think that this theory is probably incorrect, unlike the next one.

Second theory. Those two particular places are just that special.

The only two places where we actually see floating platforms being a part of the background (if I'm not missing any) are located near some of the most mysterious places in the whole game.

First, we have the ones that are located near the Colosseum of Fools. To be honest, even the interactable platforms there just seem useless, as some of them don't even protect us from the Bellflies. They all look like some kind of decoration (alongside with those strange thin pillars with circles on top of each) leading us along the road towards the corpse of a huge beast which the Colosseum is located inside. What even is this creature? Is it a higher being? Is it a Wyrm (don't mossbag me, he's wrong about those things being its claws because we see a third one in the foreground lying aside from the main structure, detached from the body)? Is the Lord Fool its reincarnation? Is it connected to the Ancient Civilization? How are there so many warriors there? Why does it still thrive after everything that happened to Hallownest? There are so many questions about that place left unanswered that I wouldn't be surprised to learn that the magic of the Colosseum actually affects time and/or space around it, making it possible for the floating platforms to exist.

Second (and this is the most important one), we have the platforms that are located inside and outside the Hive. As far as I know, this is the only place in the whole game that has this many floating platforms located in the background.

This basically confirms that this is absolutely NOT a coincidence and is a part of the intentional in-game lore. The whole place is floating!

The Hive seems to be in its own kind of stasis, probably due to its isolation. Vespa says that going against nature is a folly, so this anomaly is probably something... natural.

And you know where else floating things are a natural occurrence?

The Dream Realm.

So, the Hive and the Dream Realm are both places that are tied to the Light, which is a kind of force or energy that can alter reality and even create new realities, which are not necessarily bound by the usual laws of space and time. The Hive is not located in the Dream Realm, and it's safe to say that it's not some kind of in-between-the-worlds situation like with the Lifeblood Core, so the stuff that's going on there is less crazy than what we see in the Dream Realm, but it is also the only material place that is connected so heavily to the Light, so it is safe to assume that the anomaly that lets the platforms float is directly connected to that mysterious force.

The only thing that I can't understand is how the Light in those places connects to the Colosseum of Fools. It's not a well-lit area, and even inside the arena the only source of light is just regular fire. Could it be that this mysterious force is not defined by the Light itself, but by something more... incomprehensible?

I wonder what that force even is. The Radiance is definitely not the only source of it, and we know we're gonna see some really shiny stuff in Silksong. I personally hope for more platform lore.

#hollow knight #hollow knight lore #hollow knight theory #Hallownest #the hive #the dream realm #colosseum of fools #the radiance #silksong

[aimbutmiss]

It was another long night in the office for Crocodile.

To be fair, it was never intentional. He always reminded himself to retreat to his sleeping quarters at acceptable hours as he sat down to get some work done, but the idea was forgotten the moment he picked up a document.

So, he had severe time management problems. Whatever.

He dropped the paper he was holding and rubbed his temple with a groan. He was getting too old for sleepless nights like this. But work never ended with Cross Guild. He had a lot of things to overlook, even with the help he had from Daz and Buggy, who surprisingly made quite the good businessman. And maybe he was being a bit too cautious—too detailed with his work, but he found out the hard way that attention to detail payed off. He wasn't new to all this, he had built Baroque Works from ground up and he had also very much done the same with Cross Guild. He was proud of his meticulous work habits. No matter how many sleepless nights he had, it was always worth it.

And he loved his office; it was his safe place. He loved having a little corner to himself, away from everyone and everything. Karai Bari was loud, always home to some type of festivity. Crocodile was never one for such ruckus, and only allowed it because it helped with crew morale. But no matter what stupid thing was going on out there, he could shut it out and hide in the peaceful silence of this room. He could crunch numbers day and night, without having to deal with nightmares in his bed.

Yes, Sir Crocodile had nightmares; for he was human like any other.

He wasn't ashamed of his demons, but he'd never admit it to anyone if asked about it. He had spent years building the strong, powerful persona he had. He had convinced many that he was invincible, without weakness. It would all crumble if the world found out he woke up in cold sweat some nights, tears staining his face.

Monsters did not cry.

He slammed his head on the desk and closed his eyes for a second. Trying to get his much needed rest from a few seconds of shut eye was ridiculous, but it was better than nothing.

Before he could get up and get back to work, the door to his office slowly opened. He could have looked up to see who it was, not that there were many people who would walk into his office in the dead of night, but he decided to act as if he had fallen asleep for some reason. He just... felt like it. He didn't move an inch as footsteps approached closer to his desk.

"That could be a fire hazard, you idiot."

The mysterious intruder turned out to be just Buggy, which was weird. The clown had no reason to pay him a visit, especially not at this hour. The man picked up the lit cigar on the ashtray and put it out. A few second later, he gently laid a blanket on the "sleeping" man's shoulders, making sure he was covered up nicely. He hadn't moved from his place, so he must have detached his hands to pick it up from wherever.

"You don't have to work yourself this hard, you stubborn old man."

Crocodile was suddenly hyper aware of everything: the smell of Buggy's newly washed hair; his hand on his back, drawing slow circles into his tense muscles... He felt himself involuntarily relax into the touch.

"I could have changed you into something more comfortable and carried you to your bed if you weren't built like a fucking sea king. Oh well, this should do for now."

Before his business partner left the room, he could barely feel him give a kiss on his head. Yet it was enough to make the hairs on his neck stand up.

Buggy walked to the door, trying his best to be silent, and shut the lights. He left with a gentle whisper of "Good night." and Crocodile didn't have it in himself to get up for the next... God knows how long.

Before he knew it, he had fallen asleep just like that. When he woke up the next morning, he had mild back pain from sleeping while hunched over a chair. But despite that, he hadn't slept so well in ages.

No nightmares, just a warm blanket and the lingering smell of shampoo.

#gentle crocobug save me #i told y'all croccy's time was coming #I got super carried away while writing this #I was just about to fall asleep but then this came to me in a flash and I just had to write it down #crocobug #buggy x crocodile #buggy the clown #sir crocodile #cross guild #one piece #my writing

[dombottom]

I sat running through what I was gonna say in my mind. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. I had to end it. I was getting sloppy, I was an addict. I just had to stop. I heard my office door click as he unlocked it. He had keys (another bad decision). He walked in. Jesus. He was a walking renaissance painting. He was as volatile and temperamental as Caravaggio too. Years ago as when I’d started as his mentor pretty early on I knew I’d never be able to say no to him. The second he figured it out too, I was finished. He started peeling off his shirt without a word. I fought every urge to fall on my knees and worship him. “We need to talk, we can’t do this anymore. It’s not ok. I take full responsibility for it.” I said nervously. He turned his head, he stared at me with no expression. I’d known him long enough to know that look meant he was furious. He started taking slow steps toward me. A mountain lion locked on its prey. Temptation got the better of me and I started looking him up and down. The black hair, his the shining black eyes, the puckish features, his compact but strong build, all wrapped in his glowing olive skin. He truly was an angel, but then again, so was Lucifer. “Who the fuck do think you’re talking to?” he said angrily. Him being angry at me scared me while making my dick start to swell. “It’s not that I don’t love you, it’s just wrong. I never should have let it happen, people are going to say I’m a groomer or something, and I’ve got a hus—” he reared his arm back and slapped me full force. My fallen angel had a temper. It’s what landed him in my program to begin with. My cheek stung and my eye teared. I was instantly rock hard. “Please we can’t.” I begged. Something crossed his face, his eyes glittered with malice. “Okay. Fine, never again.” He said with a smirk. I felt the pit of my stomach drop. Hearing him say it hurt more than I thought it would. “Okay.” I replied trying to steel my nerves. He slowly started lifting his arm exposing his armpit. “Jesus Christ, please don’t do that.” I said. “What, are you worried? We’re not going to do anything. You want it to stop.” He said. My little devil. The scent hit me, he never wore deodorant or perfume. His natural scent was salty, earthy, and sweet. But his pits… he produced a potent and addictive musk. It’d been getting stronger by the year. Without question I was a slave to his scent. It hit me, all I could do was whimper. Standing an arm’s length away I could smell him, my eyes were rolling back. “It’s not that I don’t want to, I’m begging for us to stop,” I whined. “It’s weird because you said all that stupid shit, but I’m pretty sure what you were begging for was a little- sniff” he said. “Dante. Please. No. I really can’t it’s so wrong.” I said. “I stopped listening after Dante please,” he said. He quickly undid my pants, I didn’t try to stop him. My dick cartoonishly sprang out at full attention. I was done for. He grabbed it in his iron grip squeezing as hard as he could. I yelped and folded forward, he was waiting with his pit open, my face smashed right into the damp sweaty hair. “Don’t you EVER try a fucking stunt like this again!” He growled. I groaned unable to speak between the pain of his grip and the ecstasy of his scent. “SAY IT!” He yelled. “I’ll never do it again Dante-Dante-Dante please you’re hurting me.” I begged. He gave a final harder squeeze before he let go. I collapsed back into my chair. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I got in my head I love you so much please baby I shouldn’t have said anything,” I said completely crumbling. The thought of being away from him made me want to burn the world. I’m sure he knew. He took off his pants and shoes, a concert of rich musky smells filled my office. He straddled me. I could feel the stickiness and heat as he started to push his hole down on me. His eyes staring somewhere deeper down than anyone could reach. “Oh my god, I fucking love you” I whispered. He gave me another slap. Followed by a kiss. He leaned in and whispered in my ear as he pushed all the way down, “That’s right…I am a god.”

[sohnric]

BELOVED — E. SOHN

pairing: eric sohn x fem! reader

genre: hurt/comfort, friends to lovers. angst, fluff. the tiniest bit of swimmer! eric for some reason. wrote this in a moment of weakness handle with care!! :~)

word count: 2.4k

warnings: reader is said to be red in the face from the cold (alludes to specific skin color - im sorry i wrote this for me only and yall just get to read it), swearing, insecurity and jealousy, unspecified mental illness (?)

a/n: once again thank you to @csenke for beta reading and encouraging me to post this :p and also for existing. ily <3 btw swimmer eric is such a concept it gave us both whiplash maybe i need to revisit this in a full fic....

The coldness of the crisp evening makes you sniffle, your bones freezing and fingers going numb even in the comfort of your coat pockets. Your brain is full of thoughts fighting amongst each other, running around and hitting the corners of your head, slowly causing you an annoying migraine. You now regret not taking your headphones with you, because the music could help you drown out the noise of your inner voice, but the you from an hour ago that decided to go on a walk to clear your head had other plans for you, so you now have to suffer the stream of your thoughts instead. The stream is so loud you swear you can hear it resonating through the silent campus, but you know that’s a foolish thought, so you fight it away with a bitter chuckle.

Eyes zeroing on the orange fluorescent lights coming from inside of the building you’re standing in front of, you start feeling a little silly for coming here. It’s not like you think you’d be sent away, but there’s also that little bugging voice inside of your brain that keeps reminding you that you weren’t invited. Your feet have dragged you here without your consent or order. One moment, you were walking down the river, shuddering from the cold, and the other, you found yourself in front of the pool– as if the tugging of your heart was stronger than your own brain, stronger than your own thoughts.

Sometimes you feel bad for taking it all out on him. At least that’s what you suppose you’re doing– with your annoyed remarks whenever he checks in on you, with your sighs whenever he asks what’s wrong. It’s not like he’s incorrect with his suspicions– he always somehow knows you’re in a bad mood, no matter how hard you try to mask it– you just don’t often feel like discussing the matter with him. Or anyone, really. Sometimes, you feel bad for pushing him away or not texting him back. Sometimes you feel truly shitty for the fact that you can’t open up to him, no matter how hard you try. 

And sometimes, you just truly think that he wouldn’t care. It’s weird how your mind works– someone could spend so much time with you, making memories together and laughing at your jokes, yet, your mind could convince you that they don’t really like you at all in the first place. That this is some sort of a game they’re playing, trying to see how long you can stay convinced that they enjoy your presence in their life before you notice and they step away. You don’t even know where this conviction is coming from. If you knew, maybe you could fix it. If you could locate it, you’d try to delete the flawed code from your system. 

Sometimes, you think he doesn’t care about how you are, what you’re doing, what you think. It has nothing to do with the way he treats you; more so with the anxiety nibbling at the corners of your brain whenever he talks to anyone else– with the constant fear of being replaced, of having him find someone better, someone less difficult to be friends with. In its full essence, the image is terrifying. You think your world would crumble if you lost another person in your life.

More so, you think your world would crumble if you lost him. You recognize that there’s a constant desire in the depths of your heart to be someone’s favorite– his favorite– to be the person someone would choose in a room full of people. To be the one they walk up to first with a smile and their arms wide open. 

And it’s silly. You’re his best friend. He tells you so every day. It’s the way you’re introduced to everyone out of his circle that you meet on parties or at campus.

Admittedly, you like hearing him say it. Best friend– the title shows you’re the best at something: at being his companion, at making him laugh, at being there for him, whatever it is that you do to earn that sticker. The title shows that you’re somebody’s favorite– his favorite– and it makes you deeply satisfied with yourself. It makes you proud, even. 

Some days, you still have a hard time believing it, though. Some days, you still feel stranded. Lonely. Isolated. It’s weird. 

Somehow, your heart, your feet and the unconscious part of your brain took you right where you knew you’d find him. You didn’t choose to go here– if you realized you were nearing the building, you would’ve even tried to stop yourself– and as you contemplate turning on your heel and going back home, hell, you even take the first step away from the pools, the sound of the main door opening and his voice calling for you makes you halt in your movements, gluing you to the pavement. 

Sometimes, the heart knows what it needs even before you get a chance to register it.

“Y/N! How long have you been standing there?” he calls after you, making you bite down on your lower lip. There’s no escaping him now– you guess it’s for the better, though.

Turning towards him, a guilty look spreading over your features, you shrug. “Not long.”

“It’s freezing out here! Why didn’t you come inside?” he asks, a wrinkle forming in between his eyebrows as he walks closer to you, his friends from the swim team patting his back and saying their goodbyes to the two of you as they pass the commotion on their way out.

“I didn’t want to intrude your practice,” you peep, sniffling a little from the cold.

“Gosh, you always do this,” he says, rolling his eyes at you. He almost looks mad at you, and by the way he raises his voice and throws his arms in the air in frustration, you think you’re correct with assuming he might be. “I texted you the whole day! Hell, I called, even though I know how much you hate phone calls. And I get that you probably didn’t feel like talking, but a simple ‘I'm okay, don’t worry’ text would’ve been nice!”

Dragging his hand through his hair in defeat, he shakes his head at you. “Besides, you can’t just keep shutting me off every time you are having a hard time, for god’s sake! Not only do I worry, but I hate seeing you suffer all alone.”

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you listen patiently to his lecture. You know he’s right– he almost always is, because the rational side of your brain ceases to exist every time your insecurities fail you– so there’s really no aim in trying to argue or fight with him. 

Eric sighs as he steps even closer to you, adjusting the strap of his duffel bag on his shoulder before he reaches for the hood of your jacket and puts it over your head. “You could’ve texted me you were here, I’d leave practice early for you,” he says, voice now softer as he stands in front of you, not really wanting to scream straight into your face. 

You shrug in response, not really knowing what to say. Telling him you contemplated leaving  just seconds before he found you here would make him even more mad with you, so you choose to gloss over that fact. Besides, it’s kind of comforting, the way his words work. The way his presence calms you, makes the screaming match of your thoughts drown out with his firm comments and scolding remarks. His words, although full of frustration, make your insides warm up and your muscles relax, like you’re coming undone.

His face shows concern. His actions speak even louder than his words when he tugs the sides of your hood closer together at your neck, the hole for your head previously exposing your bare skin and making you shiver. “Couldn’t you dress more warmly? Do you want to catch a cold?” he mutters, shaking his head in disbelief. “You scutter here all unannounced, wearing close to nothing, and expect me to not be frustrated with you?”

You study his expression for a while. It’s not often you get to see Eric from so up close, but even in the darkness of the evening, you recognise the familiarity of his close-to-flawless features. Anchoring yourself into his gaze for a second, you move to study the sculpture of his cheekbones, the furrowed nature of his brows, the slope of his cupid’s bone. His hair falls into his eyes, making you instinctively drag your hand up and move his bangs out of the way, having the male wince at the contact of your fingers with his skin. “Hell, your hands are cold! You didn’t even take gloves? It’s minus five degrees outside!” he grunts.

It makes you chuckle. You did something nice for him, yet, there he is– complaining about the fact that you have yet again failed to take care of yourself. “I’m not even surprised, y’know, since you didn’t put on a scarf either, but sometimes I wish this little brain of yours,” he point his finger to the side of your temple, “had better self-preservation instincts,” he finishes as he fishes for something in his pocket.

Taking out his own gloves and holding them up to you so you can slip your numb fingers into the fabric, he continues on with his little tangent. “Next time,” he adds when you’re successfully wearing the warm garment, “text me as soon as you get here, okay? And look outside before you go out, so you know what to wear. Maybe open that little weather app on your home screen, even. Might be helpful,” he jokes, although a little dryly, as he brings out a scarf from his duffel bag, tying it around your neck and almost suffocating you with how tight he wraps it, making sure you’re defrosting under his tender care.

When he’s done dressing you up like a doll, you’re left staring at him speechless. Eric reciprocates the gaze, something gentle, yet worried mirroring behind his dark orbs. There’s comfort lingering in the air now that you’re not so cold, and with the added essence of his existence, the act of living doesn’t seem like such a hassle anymore. You feel lighter, in a way.

“Sorry,” he hums after a heartbeat of silence, “how are you feeling?” he asks, an apologetic look sent your way when he realizes he slipped into a heated lecture again, not knowing that this is exactly what you wanted and unknowingly came here for. (For his furrowed eyebrows and the crease in between them, his worried orbs and words tinted with frustration, showing you that he cares and wants you to be safe. For his little tangent, yet also gentle touches as he takes care of you and makes sure you’re staying warm. For the familiar look in his eyes, whispering to you that you’re the only thing in the whole world that matters to him right in this moment and always, forever.) 

You smile at the clueless boy. It seems to make something in him settle into a more comfortable place. “All better now,” you reply.

“Good,” he says. “God, you look awful,” he jokes– laughing airly to reference the state of your frozen face– cheeks and the tip of your nose red, eyes watery from the wind, hair messily sticking out from the bottom of your hood– as one of his hands comes up to cradle your face and squish your cheeks together, turning your chapped lips into a big pout. The contact of his skin on yours makes your stomach feel light with the contrast of his warm hand on your cold face, all your senses coming alive when his voice drops a few octaves lower, seriousness tinting his tone. “Promise me to take better care of yourself from now on?”

Nodding, not really having it in you to even make a noise, you watch as the male studies your face for a while. In any other circumstance, his gaze would make you shy away, but not now. Not when everything seems suddenly so simple, not when all your worries seem to slip through your fingers. When his eyes point towards your lips– your puckered, dry mouth– a sense of expecting takes over you, a strange kind of excitement buzzing in the tips of your fingertips. When you breathe in through your half-clogged nose, the mixed scent of his fabric softener coming off the scarf tied tightly around your neck and the smell of the shower gel he uses to wash the chlorine off after his swimming practice hits your nose, making you a little light-headed. No words are spoken as the male suddenly leans in and presses a quick peck to your lips.

His warm lips meet with yours in what seems to be a second-long contact, but it’s enough to have the ghost of his touch lingering, enough to make your stomach churn in joy.

The action was so painfully casual– as if it was second nature to him. As if there was no reason for him to contemplate the decision– as if this was what he wanted to do all the time, and so he did it. Sometimes, actions speak louder than words.

Selfishly, though, you must admit you need both– you need the words just as much as the actions. Good thing Eric knows you so well– sometimes you think it’s even more than you know yourself.

“Now come on, let’s get you home,” he hums, hugging you to him with his right arm as you two walk down the sidewalk, “wouldn’t want my beloved girl to freeze to death right here.”

His beloved.

The words resonate in your brain. This time, it’s a good type of screaming match happening with your thoughts– all worries battled, using his sentence to cut out the bad parts like a sharpened knife. This time, your mind is full of fireworks and excited buzzing, sending the happy signals all across your body, helping you fight winter with the power of gentle loving. 

And sure, you know that those feelings might come again. There’s no way of telling when the skeletons will appear, hunting down your happy thoughts. But you know that even if they do, you will always somehow find your way back to Eric, and he’ll make sure to remind you of what you need to hear, and you’ll be okay again.

You guess The Beatles were right after all. Maybe all you need is a little love sometimes.

#deoboyznet #the boyz #tbz #eric sohn #sohn youngjae #the boyz angst #the boyz fluff #tbz angst #tbz fluff #eric sohn angst #eric sohn fluff #eric sohn x reader #tbz x reader #tbz scenario #the boyz x reader #the boyz scenario #sohn youngjae x reader #sohn youngjae fluff #sohn youngjae angst

[apollos-olives]

i really liked hearing you talking about the geography of the west bank. id love to hear more about what you love about palestine if you want to talk about it. if not i hope u have a good day! i’m sorry anons are being so weird to you and i hope this ask doesn’t cross any boundaries

i've talked about a lottt of different things i love about palestine, but i can talk a bit more about the old city in nablus if you'd like :)

the old city is where you go if you want to find anything and everything. there are hundreds of shops and vendors and you get to meet so many different people and experience so many different things, it's so cool. over the shops and buildings are decorations and long cloths and banners that are colored in so many different ways, and they provide shade on hot days and sometimes the colors reflect off of the buildings and the ground so everywhere you go you're engulfed in bright and beautiful colors as you walk through the streets.

you can find a lot of different shops there, and they usually have huge portions of their products on display so you can pick and choose personally and serve yourself on what you'd like to buy. people who sell spices or nuts have HUGE bags of them and you get to grab a plastic kilo bag and fill up as much as you'd like. people who sell candy and gummies do the same thing, so you get to choose however much you want to fill up your bag. my family almost never is able to eat gummies where we live because it's not halal, so whenever we're in palestine we fill up kilos upon kilos of gummies in bags so we can take them back home and eat them :)) my uncle says the gummies they sell in palestine aren't halal either but whatever man where is the whimsy 😔😔 let us have this. the last time my dad went, he came back with a kilo bag of gummies after i asked him to bring some when he returned, so for months i kept the bag of gummies and slowly ate them. i finished the bag a while ago but i loveeeee gummies and whenever i find ones i'm allowed to eat, i'm very excited about it. i cannot escape my inner child.

there are many refreshments that you can find too. in the summers lots of vendors sell ice cream and slushies (as most places do, i assume) and different juices, one of them is 'tamar hindi' which is a drink you'll often see around ramadan and eid. there are stores that sell different pickled vegetables in barrels, and they'll even let you take some out directly and eat them so you can taste and choose which ones you prefer. of course there are lots of food places, but ohhhh my god there was one shawarma place in nablus that i went to that had the BEST shawarma i've ever eaten in my life. like by FAR it was one of the most delicious things i've ever eaten in my entire life and i'm not exaggerating. i yearn for a shawarma as good as the one i had in nablus. wallahi it was genuinely mind blowing. yall don't understand how good it was. i cry and sob over it all the time.

you can also find lots of clothes!! from our traditional palestinian abayas to modern t-shirts, you can find tons. a lot of the stuff that is sold in palestinian territories is bootleg, because real brands are hard to find their way in through the occupation. because of that, some of the more "modern" stuff is really low quality. i bought a belt from the old city and only was able to wear it once before it literally crumbled in my hands. it CRUMBLED. for 50 shekel too 😭😭😭 absolute shame. that's why i think it's more reliable to buy the traditional stuff, like tatreez designs, because at least that stuff is actually real.

there are jewlery shops too!! they're full of gorgeous designs and you can often find evil eye jewelry in a lot of places. i absolutely love the evil eye design and i have a lotttt of evil eye jewelry. some muslims disapprove though, but whatever. i just think it looks nice. i like its meaning too. interesting stuff to me.

palestinians use different types of currencies too!! we often use the israeli shekel, but that's slowly becoming out of use 🤷‍♂️ but we also use the jordanian dinar, and we even use american dollars, usd, to buy stuff.

OH LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT THE KNAFEH SHOP !! nablus is famous for knafeh. we're like. THE knafeh city. there's a very VERY famous old white-bearded man who owns the famous knafeh shop of nablus and you can almost always find him every day making knafeh. his place always has a huge amount of people there, watching him as he makes the knafeh right in front of them and then serves it out to everyone. genuinely THE knafeh of all time. him and his knafeh are a very cherished part of our city.

i'm sure there are MANY more things i can go on about, but i hope this was interesting to you! thank you for asking :)

#palestine

[anonymous-dentist]

Cellbit has always dreamed of dying.

Growing up on the streets, death was his best friend and closest companion. He did what he had to do to survive, and he fell asleep every night under the bridge holding his knife to his chest just in case anyone tried getting smart with him.

The Man In Black always told him that he was too close to death, and Cellbit always agreed. He’d smile and ask the Man In Black for some candy or for a cigarette, and sometimes he’d even get something. (Usually the candy. Not the cigarette.)

By the time he had finally aged out of the system, Cellbit had decided that he wanted to die in a cool way, like on tv. He wanted to explode. He didn’t want to die of pneumonia or anything boring like that; he wanted to be remembered, because maybe then he’d finally get to meet the family he couldn’t remember at his tombstone.

Now, at the ripe old age of 26, Cellbit’s wish is finally being granted as Felps plows the van right into the side of some old hotel Cellbit doesn’t know the name of.

Cellbit sees the wall approaching, eyes widening in a sudden and unfamiliar panic, and he has just enough time to think, ‘Wait, no, I changed my mind-’, before the van makes impact and the world goes white.

He doesn’t feel a thing.

“Cellbit…”

But it’s so beautiful, the End. The ether swirls around him like pearlescent soap bubbles tickling his skin; he’s floating.

“Cellbit..!”

His fingertips are tingling, but he can’t see them. Does he want to? They’re burning, just like the rest of him is. He doesn’t want to see that.

Eyes closed and at peace for the first time in his life, he drifts. The Man In Black was wrong: death is warm.

It’s warm.

It’s hot.

“Cellbit!”

He opens his eyes and stares down at his charred, burning corpse, and he listens to Pac scream- still alive in the back of the van- and he feels Mike’s hand scramble to hold his, and that’s.

“Oh,” Cellbit says, voice hoarse and oddly choked. He swallows the cold in his throat. “So that’s it.”

His body is already unrecognizable. Hair’s gone, skin’s charred. Ugly as hell, but, well, it’s what he wanted.

“Pac…” Mike murmurs. So he’s dead, too. Huh.

There’s a weird buzzing in Cellbit’s skin, eyes on the back of his neck. But when he whips his head around to stare at the hotel at his back, all he sees is a brief flash of red. Nothing, just the building.

“Where’s Felps…?” Cellbit breathes. He jerks his hand out of Mike’s and runs to the driver’s side of the van. “Felps!”

He blinks, and then there’s Forever standing next to him looking very confused.

“What the…” Forever looks around before settling his eyes on his body. “Oh.”

Cellbit puts a hand on his shoulder. His bare shoulder- did he fucking die shirtless? No way…

Cellbit takes his hand off of his shoulder.

“We shouldn’t have let Felps drive,” he says.

Forever glares at him. “No shit! Dude, we’re dead!”

Pac wails. Somehow, he’s still alive. Mike’s by his side, at least, pressed against the outside of the van by Pac’s seat trying to talk to him.

“He’s fine,” Cellbit points out.

“Not for long!” Forever shouts. He runs his hands through his hair before flopping onto the ground in a despairing heap. “Fuck! I knew I shouldn’t have accepted that ad-”

“To be fair, dying wasn’t exactly in the job description,” Cellbit dryly says. He settles into the grass next to Forever, kinda sorta feeling miles and miles away. Shock, he thinks. Huh.

Forever covers his face with his hands and groans, “How are we even here? We’re dead!”

“Ghosts,” Mike comments from the far side of the van. Pac has gone quiet, r-i-p. “Kinda cool, honestly.”

“How is this cool? We’re dead!”

Cellbit stares down at the grass. It’s burning, too, because of course it is. It’s going to die, too. Huh.

He tunes Forever and Mike out as he notices that it isn’t the grass that’s on fire. It’s him: his fingertips are smoldering and crumbling into ash and reforming and crumbling and reforming and crumbling and-

“Hey guys!”

He snaps his head up just in time to watch Felps clamber out of the hole in the wall with a bright smile on his face.

“Look what I’ve got!” he calls, waving one arm.

The other arm drags along a yawning child rubbing his eye with his knuckles.

“You guys suck,” the kid grumbles. (Well, at least he speaks Portuguese…) “I was literally asleep.”

Forever glances out from between his fingers and immediately groans and hides his eyes again.

“I’m not SEEING this,” he moans. “I’m fine, I’m not dead, we aren’t dead, Felps didn’t kill a child…”

“A child?” Pac exclaims, popping into existence next to Mike on the other side of the van.

Cellbit sighs and flops onto his back, eyes slipping shut again. His hand finds Forever’s arm, and he loosely holds it, smiling slightly as Forever swaps his arm out for his hand.

“At least we don’t have to pay rent anymore,” he tells Forever.

So there’s that.

#qsmp ghost au #a.d.'s fics i suppose #a.d.'s fics i suppose. #tw death #tw derealization