#A. this is my list and if you have one of your own then feel free to say what it is

[plushcroft]

You thought why not try therapy? People deal with all kinds of things so why wouldn't your situation be more common? You spill to the new therapist.

Now the therapist you started talking to seems confused. "People donate organs and survive a lot more than you think. It sounds like yours were taken without your consent so that would definitely cause some trauma. There is nothing odd about asking for help. This is a safespace. We might even help you track down the thieves depending on your testimony."

You then removed the thick false glasses to reveal missing eyes out of your sockets. "I guess I should have specified a majority of organs, including the usual life sustaining ones were missing when I woke up and do you want to know the worst part is? I can still see out of these sockets, I can feel hunger with no stomach, yet even I don't understand why I'm still alive. Funnily enough I remember making a deal with someone when I was drunk but I don't even remember the contents of the deal. It was just a 'hey want to give immortality a spin? You'll probably need it next week, next thing I know I crashed into a tree one week away. My mistake thankfully only affected myself. No one else was in the accident except for my stupid self. Hell, I don't even know how I got myself into- wait why are you freaking out? I'm being honest here! I lost my own pulse when my own heart was removed, I don't even think I have a brain anymore. But I haven't hurt anyone! Why are you so scared?"

After realizing your problem was something even a professional would be nervous around you left somehow without alerting anyone. Maybe just maybe someday you could figure things out. You had the sacrifice list at your house to finish. Most people bought crickets for their pet reptile not themselves.

To be continued?

The ritual calls for 100 sacrifices, but after reading it carefully you realize that it never specified they had to be human. Deciding to be the smartass that you are, you got a petri dish full of bacteria and sacrificed them instead.

[burrowdarling]

My MVP II (18+)

Summary: What happens after the NFL Honors, especially after your ride back to the hotel. Read part one here!

Pairings: boyfriend! Joe Burrow x girlfriend!reader

Requested: Yes | No

Warnings: oral (fem receiving), light spanking, elevators, Joe praise, sex (p in v), MDNI

Note: Heyo! Here's part two: The Hotel Room from My MVP, I hope you all enjoy. Thank you all so much for the love on the first one, which has over 600 notes in 3 days (like what?!?) Happy Superbowl Sunday, wish we had our boys playing, but smut always help with that right?

Word Count: 2.8k

Check out my Masterlist here!

Taglist: @burrowbarbie @definitelynotdomanique @one-sweet-gubler @plushkhiii @enchantedinfinity @iosivb9 @hellsingalucard18 @hotburreaux @lilfreakjez Feel free to comment or message me if you'd like to be added to the list!

You tried your best to keep pace with Joe’s long legs as you trailed behind him, fingers knotted through his. He Handed his keys off to the valet, his face expressionless as he did so. You felt your cheeks flush at the knowledge of what you had just done, knowing some stranger was about to get into the same car. Trying to keep your face down, you mumbled a thank you to the man as you passed him by. The walk wasn’t long, but your short legs were no match for Joe's long strides. 

“Joey, can we slow down? It’s hard to walk in these damn things,” you pleaded, wishing you had taken them off and reaped the consequences later. 

He wordlessly obeyed your request, slowing his pace slightly so you could catch up. Joe took the opportunity to release your hand, slipping his own protectively around your waist to keep you close. You walked through the sliding doors of the hotel lobby, Joe making a beeline for the elevators. The wait was short, glad to have gotten an elevator all to yourselves. Joe pressed the ‘close doors’ button as fast as he could, making you giggle.

“Someone’s eager,” you said, trying to spin to face him. You were feigning for his touch, still riding the high from your first orgasm. It was nothing compared to what Joe could give you, him knowing your body better than you did.

Joe pulled you tightly into his front, the feel of his cock straining against his dress pants making your breath hitch in your throat. The thought that this could stop on any floor, anyone could walk in had your pulse thrumming. Joe leaned his head down to the crook of your neck, mouth dangerously close to your ear.

“Do you know how badly I want to fuck you right now?” Joe asked as more of a rhetorical question, “how badly I wanted to rip this dress off of you before we even got out of the car at the venue?”

He slipped the back of your dress up, keeping your front covered. You let out a gasp of surprise at the sudden breeze on your backside, feeling more exposed than you were in the car. You were shocked, unsure of what to do with this new side of Joe. He was always so reserved when it came to you, but tonight was like he had flipped a switch of his own.

“I’m regretting letting you put your excuse for fucking panties back on right now,” he groaned, giving your ass a smack and a squeeze. Joe took the chance to grind himself against you, a moan slipping from your lips at the feel of him, desperate to have him against your bare skin

You made it out of the elevator unscathed, in a desperate pursuit to find your room. You fumbled with the keycard, unsure as to why Joe entrusted you with the job considering his composure was much better than yours. He waited patiently though, large hands on your shoulders while you went through your bag to find it, slipping it out of your purse and only dropping it to the floor once before you both made it in the confines of your room. 

The moment you passed the threshold, Joe was on you. You had only taken a few steps in as your back was against the door as it closed. Joe’s mouth was everywhere on your skin, lips leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

He walked you backwards to the center of the room, mouth never leaving yours. When he was satisfied with your placement, he left one final kiss to your lips before parting from you. You groaned at the loss of contact, confusion over your features when he took a seat in the armchair. 

“I want you to strip for me, sweetheart,” Joe growled out, eyes heavy with desire. His eyes were so blown with lust, you’d give him anything he asked of you. 

You walked towards him silently as you spun around, needing help unzipping your dress. You felt his large warm hands move up your back before settling on the top of your back. Joe gave you a short stroke of his thumb as a way of saying he was there, using his other hand to move the zipper down to the base of your spine. You walked back towards the middle of the room, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves as you turned back to face your man.

You hesitated for a brief second, processing his request fully under his domineering gaze before he gently nodded towards you as a sign to go ahead. He dropped you a wink before giving you a small smile, reminding you that your Joey was still here, even if he was putting on this persona tonight. You wanted to please him, give him the proper celebration he deserved. 

You pulled your hair to one side, exposing your shoulder and the skimpy strap of your dress. You locked eyes with him, taking your hair and moving the strap to slip down your arm. His eyes never left yours, licking his lips as he was unable to settle into the chair fully. You could tell he was ready to jump your bones, holding himself back to preserve this moment for as long as possible. You moved to drop the strap from your other shoulder and watched as the fabric pooled around your ankles. You stepped out of it as Joe moved from his stop on the chair. He had you in his arms, tossing you like you weighed absolutely nothing back against the pillows on the bed. You erupted in laughter, feeling heat pool in your stomach at his sheer size and strength.

You were laid back on the bed, knees bent and your heels sticking into the duvet. You watched Joe as he started to rid himself of his clothes. You admired him, feeling a strong pull of lust and love for the man before you. A well of pride sat heavy on your chest that you were able to shower him with the love and affection he deserved, to treat him like the MVP you believed he was to you. You watched as he reached around his neck, getting ready to slip the chains off for the night.

“Keep them on,” you spoke softer than you meant to, breathless at the sight of him, “you never wear jewelry, I wanna enjoy it.”

Joe nodded at your request, beginning to remove his jacket while leaving the chains around his neck. His skin was taught, his muscled chest finally being within your reach after he wore that suit all night. You got up from your place on the bed, moving on your knees to meet Joe where he was standing. He took the last of his clothing off, tossing it to the side before turning towards you. You took your opportunity, slipping a delicate hand up his chest and settling on one of his chains, giving a soft pull towards you. Joe groaned at the feeling of the taught jewelry at the nape of his neck, nipping at your lips in praise. His hands settled on your ass, gripping your cheeks in both hands before giving them a tender squeeze. You gasped at the sudden touch, Joe capitalized on the moment to slip his tongue in your mouth. Moving one hand to the middle of your back to support your body. 

It was raw and full of passion, unfiltered and encompassing the pent up emotions of the day.  Your hands were lost in his hair, gripped whatever you could to keep your head from spinning. Joe laid you back on the mattress, getting to his knees and pulling you to the edge of the bed. Much like he did earlier, he took the time to take off each one of your heels

“As sexy as these are, I wanna be able to move you around freely and not risk taking a heel to the face,” Joe joked lightly, slipping off your heel as he kissed up your calf. You nodded in agreement knowing you weren’t the most coordinated person. Even in intense moments like this, he always knew how to keep you comfortable. He repeated the same on your other leg, taking the time to move slowly up your body. Joe didn’t leave an inch of skin untouched by his lips as he settled at the apex of your thighs. 

“God you’re fucking dripping for me, sweet girl. How do you want me first?” Joe asked as he toyed with you, stroking the area just above your pubic bone causing you to stir.

“What do you mean first?” you question him, you did already finish once tonight. Your mind went blank at the possibility of just how much he wanted to wear you out tonight.

“You heard me, I plan on getting you to cum multiple times tonight. How many times do you think I can make you finish him? Once, twice, maybe three times if I’m lucky” Joe said with such confidence in his voice that your body trembled with excitement. 

“Though I think we both know I don’t need luck for that. I know just what makes you tick, exactly what my girl likes” Joe said as he brought his hand down between your legs, swiping a finger through your slit before moving up to circle your clit with his thumb.

The simplicity of the touch already had your back arching off the bed, having been craving to have his hands on you for hours. He took his free hand and brought two fingers up to your lips, tapping them to get you to open. He slipped them inside, thoroughly wetting them like you did earlier. Your eyes stayed locked on his gaze as he slipped them past your lips with a pop. You could tell he was imagining his cock in your mouth, drawing a lazy smile to your lips as the later probability. 

He brought the wet digits down to your core, slipping them inside of you as he pumped them in and out slowly to start. You were already beginning to lose it, your  body wound so tightly, it wouldn’t take much to get you there. He increased his pace as he changed the angle of his fingers, moving them in the ‘come here’ motion as he kept hitting that certain spot inside of you. In perfect rhythm, you were on fire from his touch as you were seconds from losing it, his movements unrelenting. Your hands gripped the sheets, knuckles going white at the sheer pleasure he was causing your body. You felt electric, a simple spark could send you reeling. You tossed your head from side to side against the pillow, eyes clenched shut from the pleasure coursing through you. You were so close to the edge, fighting to get to the point of that sweet release.

“I'm so close, Joey. I wanna cum for you like a good girl,” you moaned, stirring something inside of Joe at your words. It was as if he took your words as his own motivation to get you there, feeling how close you were.

“That’s it, cum all over my fingers baby,” Joe praised as your high ripped through your body, feeling a bit sensitive from your previous orgasm. “Number two will be with my mouth, I gotta get a taste of you.”

Before your mind could uncloud from the high, Joe’s tongue was already slipping inside of you lapping at whatever he could get. Your hands settled into his hair, pulling him closer to your body as you possibly could. You were a moaning mess, earning a groan from Joe in response that only made things feel more intense from the vibrations. It didn’t take long for you to finish on his face, grinding down to ride out your high that came so fast out of left field. This one feeling more intense than the first, the realization dawning on you that you had just squirted all over Joe. A small pit formed in your stomach that he would be upset somehow, propping yourself up on your elbows to look down at him between your legs.

His gaze met yours, telling you everything you needed to know. His pupils were blown so wide with lust. A look that said ‘don’t you dare feel bad for that’ while he made no move to part from you. He tenderly licked as your breathing even out, lapping at your juices like he was deprived. He moved to make his way up your body, flipping you around and lifting your hips so you were on your knees. He climbed on the bed to settle behind you, leaning down to bring his mouth by your ear. 

“You have no idea how hot that was, watching you do that. I can’t wait for number three to be around my cock, I already know your cunt is so fucking wet for me,” Joe growled out as he brought his mouth down to you, letting you taste yourself on his lips.

You hadn’t spoken much, mumbling back an incoherent string of sounds that were meant to come out as words. Joe laughed behind you, pulling you up from your hands to rest back against him. You leaned your head on his shoulder, taking the time to breath before he would wreck you with his unrelenting thrusts. He gave your temple a kiss, gripping your breasts and toying with your nipples. He already had that knot in your stomach forming again, the pressure building in your center with an ache to have him inside of you.

“Need you inside me, Joe,” you whined against him, reaching your hands around to get any part of him in your grasp. 

“I can’t deny my baby what she wants, good to hear your voice still works for now,” Joe said as he moved you back to your hands and knees. You arched your back and wiggled your hips, ready to have him inside you. You pushed back against him, feeling his hands on your hips to stop your movements. A low whine slipped past your lips, ready to beg for his cock to be inside you already when he slipped in without warning.

You moaned loudly at the fullness of having him inside you, dropping your head in relief at the contact. Joe’s grip on your hips was firm as if he was taking out all of his pent up tension and the nerves from the night out on your body. You weren’t complaining, relishing in the thrusts and feel of his body coming into contact with yours after each one.

He pulled out quickly, flipping you onto your back before quickly finding his way back inside of you. He dropped to his forearms above you, caging you into his body as you locked eyes.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, i wanna see your face when I make you come undone on my cock,” Joe said as he deepened his thrust more than you thought was possible.

Your hands were clawing at his back, trying to ground yourself into the moment, every delicious stroke making you lose more and more of your sense of control. You felt yourself tightening around his cock, your release on the edge of tipping. It was as if Joe knew exactly where you were, dropping one of his hands between you and rolled your clit with his thumb and forefinger, the touch acting like a catalyst to your orgasm. You were a mess below him, arching up into his body as your nail raked down his toned back. 

Your release brought Joe to his own, painting your walls with his own cum shortly after you. He slowed his strokes, the both of you feeling sensitive to the slightest touch after your highs. You both laid there and caught your breath.You brough one of your hands to cup his cheek, Joe leaving into the gentle touch in the aftermath of everything.

“Congratulations, Joey. That was way better than any afterparty’” you said, giving him a peck to the nose as you giggled. Joe’s hand found their way to the sides of your face, still propped up on his forearms.

“Let’s get you cleaned up baby,” Joe said as he picked you up in his arms to bring you into the bathroom. Your body felt tired, but your desire was still high.

“Round two in the shower?” you questioned, wiggling your eyebrows at him making him let out a laugh and you to pout, “I didn't get to reward you properly. Someone was too caught up in my pussy to let me.”

“Let’s get in there first and go from there you minx, a man needs a moment to recover.”

[secondbeatsongs]

Food Crime: Frosty the Slawman

so a while ago, I saw this photo going around on tumblr:

at first, I thought this was photoshopped. I mean, "welcome new man in your life"? that feels like a translation error, or someone being silly on purpose.

but guess what! turns out, Frosty Slaw Man is real!

and soon...he will be mine. let's get cooking

(full disclosure: I crafted this snowman and took notes about it over a year ago. and then, like with many things in my life, I forgot about him, and let him drift into the ADHD void of Things I'm Not Currently Staring At, where object permanence is tentative and largely unrealized.

but here we are! and here he is: the slaw man. it's time to share him with you, so that you can suffer as I have suffered, and/or rejoice in my gelatin creation!)

so this recipe photo originally came from Mid-Century Menu (archive link), a blog that seems like one after my own heart, and which once tried to make the Slaw Man (with not much success; but we'll get back to that)! but it's not just that blog that has copies of this ad. I also found it on reddit, and in a few different places on ebay!

lookit that guy! he's a real guy!

both the reddit post and some of the ebay listings say that this is from 1963 (though I haven't been able to figure out which magazines it was printed in, to confirm this for myself). but in looking this up, I discovered something else fun! there's another version of this ad!

Best Foods is what Hellmann's stuff is called on the west coast, and the "this is no place for second best" thing makes a lot more sense when you consider that the ad was probably made for Best Foods first, and then just reused and rebranded for the east coast

the more you know!

anyway the benefit of finding this alternate ad is that the scan on this image is a lot clearer, and so the recipe is more readable! and in looking at it, I've realized something important:

when Mid-Century Menu tried this recipe, they got an ingredient amount wrong.

when they made their beloved Slaw Man, they had the water amount written down as 1/4 cup, but looking at this scan up close, it is actually 3/4 cup of water! something that might make a significant difference, considering we're working with gelatin!

(there's also another change I want to make compared to what they did, when I do this recipe. but we'll get into that in a sec.)

for now: we begin

so. there's no way I'm making a Slaw Man this large. I am just one person, and considering the ingredients of this, I don't think I'm going to be able to consume that much Slaw.

two entire heads of cabbage? three pounds of cottage cheese, a thing that I don't even like to eat? no. that's a bad idea.

so I'm starting small here and making this 1/3 the size of the original:

2 packets of unflavored gelatin 1/4 cup cold water 1 cup mayo 1 tsp salt 1lb cottage cheese 4 cups shredded cabbage

surely this will result in a reasonable amount of Man

...okay, I started chopping the cabbage thinking it would be easier, but I've given up and pulled out a grater. this is much better! and somehow more violent (affectionate)

the recipe says to soften the gelatin in cold water, and then stir over hot water until it's dissolved. I'm going to assume "stir over hot water" means a double boiler, so let's do that

hmmm, the gelatin is very foamy? it’s melted, but the bottom of the pot feels really....sticky

okay. after a couple minutes more and no change, I’m calling this good enough.

so one thing that others who have attempted this recipe have not taken into consideration is the cottage cheese. you see, the others used normal cottage cheese, but the recipe says to use "cottage cheese, cream style"

I’ll be real, I’m not 100% what that means, since we don’t have that here. but I can take an educated guess! so let’s blend the cottage cheese!

(with an immersion blender. I am not willing to wash an actual blender because of this)

mmm, yes. very smooth

...actually. why isn't all cottage cheese like this? the thing I hate about cottage cheese is the texture, so why isn't it all smooth and creamy like this?? I could eat this!!

a new discovery is made every day in this house.

okay, time to start mixing things together.

ah, frosty. I opened a whole new thing of mayo for you! do you feel special?

(I'd make a "pre-dinner snack?" joke, but sometimes I think I'm the only one that remembers Regular Ordinary Swedish Meal Time)

okay, the mayo, cottage cheese, and salt have been added to the gelatin. but as this cools, the texture is getting...hmm. less than appealing.

lastly: the cabbage

oh. oh this is not very nice

next it says to pack the "salad" into a one pound container, and two six-cup bowls, but since I made this recipe so much smaller, I'm going to uhhhh. uh. find some bowls that seem like they'd be correct...snowman? proportions?

ah. this bowl is too big.

hey, these'll work!

now I just have to let them chill for a while, and continue another day.

(edit from current!me: ahhh oh my god I forgot this was pretty soon after we adopted Jackie! look at these cat pics that I took while I was food crime-ing!

look at them having their little interactions! Knuckles was trying so hard to be friends with her! I love them)

hello! two days later and we are ready to assemble the slawman. and my sibling has started referring to him as "frosty: attorney at slaw", so that's fun.

I've done a thing where, as these set, I flipped them around in the bowl so that hopefully they'd be more round. we'll see if they actually stay like this.

I have also made some decorations for him out of peppers, olives, and carrots!

let's build our boy

oh he's so heavy. and wobbly

no no no he almost fell over!!

okay. he's fine. but more skewers were needed.

and...okay. he is complete.

behold!

gaze upon my beautiful man!

(he is not structurally sound! he wobbles unsteadily as I rotate him! there are already cracks forming in the gelatin around where his arms are! don't worry about it!)

 now it's time to stab him

and...to devour him

this tastes like...a bland coleslaw? and not even that. it's just sort of a salty, cottage cheese-y cabbage. the ingredients don't combine to become something greater, they simply...sit there. like this.

and the texture is...mmm. it's not a jello kind of texture, but it is a bit squashy in a way that's mildly strange.

it's very creamy once it softens in your mouth.

...I don't like this!

and look! taking just that one chunk from him was enough to destabilize him entirely :(

RIP frosty. now I just have to see if I can eat all of you before you go bad.

(note from current!me: I could not.

 I ate maybe half of him over the course of many days, often adding other stuff to him to try to add some flavor: bacon, frozen peas, cheese, etc. but even with that, I just couldn't stomach him.

after a while I stuck what was left of him in the freezer, hoping that maybe I'd find the will to consume the rest of him some other day.

do you know what a frozen-and-then-thawed mixture of cabbage, cottage cheese, mayo, and gelatin looks and tastes like?

bad. the answer is: bad.

I threw him out pretty quickly after thawing him.

do not try this recipe at home)

[natalicss]

Like We Were In Paris II

kwon ji-yong x american pop star!reader

part one

summary: you and ji-yong have been dating for a couple years, and you’ve kept under the radar this entire time. after the gala de pièces juanes, you two attend the chanel spring-summer 2025 haute contour show. however, the two of you are starting to get tired of keeping your relationship a secret.

warnings: not proofread AT ALL! i’m way too lazy for that, sorry. celeb!reader, implied age gap (reader is mid-twenties), lots of fluff, lil bit of angst, use of y/n, i still don’t know how to use this app i feel like an elderly man using a cell phone.

word count: 4.9K

nat’s notes: hey y’all! i came back for part two AS PROMISED! this was actually very hard for me to write as i kept changing my mind about how i wanted this to go. so im sorry in advance if its not all that great LMAO. i do wanna write a lil more about american pop star reader & jiyong, maybe i’ll do some sort of head canons about them, or some stuff about their relationship early on. i’m not sure. i also tagged the people who asked to be & i will try to keep tagging people in the future (if they wanna be). anywhore, i hope that you guys enjoy this, if you don’t…sorry<3 toodles!

tag list: @infinetlyforgotten @petersasteria

After the successful Gala Des Pièces Jaunes event, you had spent the next couple days in dressing rooms. You had been invited to Chanel’s Spring-Summer 2025 Haute Couture Show. You said yes, of course, having an affinity for fashion, and never turning down the chance to be near your long-term boyfriend. You and Ji-yong had been to a couple of the same fashion shows before. It was always easy to slip by with nobody noticing your connection. Oftentimes, you two were not seated remotely near each other and are far too busy with the peers around you to sneak away. 

But this last week felt particularly more difficult. Unlike in America or South Korea, where you knew the paparazzi and knew very well how to remain under the radar, the Paris press was more complicated. You and Ji-yong had to weave your way around in more secrecy than ever. Every method you could imagine. Some instances, the two of you would sneak through a back door and slide into cars to avoid the cameras. Other instances, the two of you would make separate nonchalant appearances. Ji-yong would leave the hotel first, shy and polite as he waved and greeted the people around him as he’d slip into a car and drive off to his next location. You, wearing designer clothes and sunglasses as you walked out with a big smile and a more confident approach. You’d get in your own car, sliding into the back with your security with a huff. Within moments, you’d open your phone to shoot a text to your lover. 

Y/N

i didnt get to say it before you left, but you look handsome today<3

You knew it’d only be a moment before he responded. 

Ji<3

Thank you, Aein, you look beautiful!

You and Ji-yong hated that you couldn’t spend this Paris trip together more. After all, you two had all of the same events, same meetings, same friends to visit, and yet you couldn’t be by his side at any of it, not in public. Part of you didn’t mind, used to the routine, but part of you was starting to grow tired. It wasn’t like two years ago, when you first started dating. At that time, Ji-yong was still on hiatus, you were working on your fourth album, and everything had to be a secret. Secret vacations, secret visits, secret dinner dates where the two of you wore silly disguises. You were good sports, making a game out of it and playing ridiculous characters to see who cracked first. But that was two years ago. He was back in the spotlight again, you had released your fifth album a few weeks ago, he was releasing his own work. You two were confident in your relationship, everyone was. What was holding you back?

There was no black and white answer. On one hand, now was the perfect time to announce to the world that their rumors of you dating a random Hollywood actor were all false. On the other hand, were you so willing to give up that last piece of privacy you did have? You weren’t worried about the hate on either side, despite knowing how fans often get if they don’t approve of their favorite celebrities' relationship. 

You had been in a public relationship way before Ji-yong. It was years ago, back when you were still new to the world of fame and glamour. Every corner you turned, the cameras flashing, the wave of hate you’d received, the amount of gossip around every song you released being about them or not, their interviews for their movies always being about you. Your careers had been forced to blend due to the way people reacted. The world had taken your last relationship by storm and had seemingly strangled it with their love and adoration. The lack of privacy, individuality, and respect for the two of you had been what led to you and your last partners split. It took the two of you years before the media finally stopped associating everything either of you did together. So, understandably, part of you was worried about that happening again.

You thought about all of this as you and Ji-yong were getting ready for the day. You both had things to attend to, tomorrow being the fashion show. One last fitting, one last meeting with your teams. You were styling your hair as Ji-yong had finished getting dressed, the agreement for him to leave the hotel first still agreed on. He looked at you, and you could see the way his eyes softened as he observed your eyes. He knew everything about you, down to the way your face looked when you were deep in thought, perhaps about to drown yourself with your ability to overthink.

“Are you okay, love?” He asked, speaking in Korean first as he approached. You didn’t say anything, busy running your fingers through your hair as he quietly stepped next to you. He met your eyes in the mirror, his lips curling. “There she is.” You blushed at his words, putting your hands down as you finally turned your body to face him. “What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?” He asks, reaching up to adjust your hair framing your face.

You didn’t know where to start. You and Ji-yong had talked about this a million times before. You two had always agreed to keep things the way they are. You weren’t sure if he was ready to change that. As he watched you get lost in your thoughts again, he tilted his head to meet your gaze. Your eyes were glossy, not all there as you already started mapping out every way the conversation could go, preparing yourself for every out come.

“Jagiya, you’re worrying me,” 

You blink. It takes you a second to come back to the present, taking a deep breath as you try to explain the heavy complicated feelings in your heart. “I’ve been thinking, through this whole trip,” You subconsciously reach for his hands, looking for comfort and something to anchor you down. He lets you, his thumb running along your skin in soothing patterns. “I don’t know how much longer I want to keep us a secret.” You blurt, staring at your connected hands rather than his eyes. You were too worried about what you might find. 

There’s a beat of silence. Then another. Your heart twists in anxiety, but you don’t dare to look up. Ji-yong’s breathing changes, only the slightest bit, but you notice. He stops his thumb from tracing its delicate patterns, instead letting it tap against your skin. You feel guilty. You both had so much to do today, this conversation could have waited til tonight, after the show tomorrow, or at just about any other time. You weren’t sure, but you knew this wasn’t it.

Ji-yong adjusts his posture, pulling one hand away from yours, only to bring it to your face. With the gentlest touch, he lifts your head so you finally see his eyes. They’re not angry, or frustrated, or even remotely annoyed. Instead, they’re as soft and warm as they’d always been, making your heart flutter the slightest bit. To be honest, Ji-yong had thought about this too. He’d admitted before that going public worried him. He was a celebrity, and that immediately brings its own multitudes of hardships. He knew that he’d keep any and all relationships a secret, unless the person he was with said otherwise. You had come into his life, unexpectedly, and changed his entire world in the best ways he could imagine. And here you were, the person he knew was the love of his life, staring back at him with sadness because of that very sentiment. 

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been feeling it too. He wanted to hold your hand down the streets of Paris, the two of you pointing out different things you loved about it, sharing kisses under streetlights. That night at the Gala, he had wanted to kiss you as soon as he was off the stage. And when you were finished performing? He wanted to part the crowd and sweep you into his arms, like he did at your own tours. But he’d been worried, worried about what people might say to you or about you. He knew how harsh they got. He knew you could handle it, but that didn’t mean he wanted to put you in that position unless you were ready.

His hand, which caresses your face with a certain level of sincerity you only ever felt from him, was soft and moved gently. He smiled, a soft gentle one that made you feel more at ease as you realized he wasn’t mad at you in any way. “It hasn’t been easy, has it?” He asks you, raising a brow. You only shake your head, lips pursed into a line. He studies your features like you’re a work of art (cause you are). “I miss every second I’m not with you. All I can think about is where you might be. If you’re smiling. If you’re anxious. If you’re laughing. If you’re thinking about me, too.” He leans in close, pressing a kiss to your temple. “And then you text me, and all I can think about is how lucky I am to be with you, and how mad I am that you’re not next to me.” You nod in understanding. You’d always felt that way about him, to the point it made your heart clench.

“I love you,”

“I love you more.”

You’re blushing wildly as he kisses your lips softly. Your feelings for him being translated into simple intimate touches. You’d never experienced something like Ji-yong before. You never wanted to let that go.

When he pulls away, he’s reaching for your jacket hanging off the back of a chair. You smile at him, memorizing his face like you’d done a million times before. You slide your arms into the jacket, letting your boyfriend adjust your outfit slightly. He focuses on your hair, bringing it out form under it and framing your face. Everytime his fingers brush your skin it leaves faint tingles in their wake.

“Why don’t we talk to everyone when we get home?” He suggests, looking back at you. Your eyes widen. You search his expression. “If you’re positive, then I’m with you.” 

You smiled wide. You couldn’t help it. “I’ve never been so sure of anything.” Your arms wrap around his neck, and he laughs softly as you start to kiss all over his face. “I want nothing more than to scream about how I’m dating G-Dragon.” He rolls his eyes playfully, still not used to you using his stage name after all this time. 

The rest of your days went smoothly. Both of you finishing up with your work, having dinner with friends, coming back to the hotel room to spend every possible moment together. Soft laughter as you each told stories from your pasts (many you’ve already told), legs tangled together under the sheets of your bed. Small intimate touches. Fingers tracing shapes on skin. Gentle kisses. Messy hair. If possible, your eyes were certainly heart shaped every moment you looked at him.

It was hard to hide it, even now, as you sit at the Chanel show. Both of you had arrived at different times, wearing extravagant outfits. You could feel his eyes on you as you posed for the cameras. He tried to keep his composure when he knew you were near by as he did interviews. Luckily for both of you, you’ve had years of practice. You held your head high with confidence, switching your energy from your usual softer self to the person you were on stage. America’s pop star. America’s princess. The way you posed yourself elegantly, batting your full lashes and gave your most sultry looks. How was Ji-yong supposed to not look? You were sitting in your seat, looking down at your phone as a text popped up.

Ji<3

You’re the most beautiful one here

You looked across the runway, your heart skipping a beat. He was already looking at you, a knowing shy smile on his face as he kept his phone in his hand. You smiled back at him, looking back at your phone.

Y/N

Says you<3 I love you

You put your phone in your lap, looking around some more. You felt lucky you had been to so many events, most of these people you already knew one way or another. It made small talk with the people next to you flow easily. Every now and again, you’d sneak a glance at your boyfriend, who was always staring at you like you were the show itself. It was hard to hide your blushed face, keep your voice from pitching when you talked to the other celebrities, and nearly impossible not to stare right back at him.

The show itself seemed to pass by with ease. You watched thoughtfully at every piece, making mental notes of things you particularly liked and wanted to mention to your assistant later. You’d lean over to your new friend of the night, whispering about different pieces and sharing your thoughts. You could see Ji-yong completely focused on the show, his eyes studying every model with intrigue. It was clear every piece that came out was being calculated into various looks. If he thought of something that worked, he’d raise his phone and take a quick photo. You smiled every time, excited to hear what he was thinking of later.

As the show came to an end, you were talking with your team as you felt someone graze past you. You looked up to see your familiar boyfriend, smiling at you fondly. You knew there were cameras everywhere, one minor slip leading to a whirlwind of chaos and news articles. The anxiety in your chest felt tight, but you kept your cool, straightening your posture and giving him a smile.

Ji-yong looked around, as if silently piecing together something. You followed his gaze, trying to see exactly what he was looking at. To you, there was nothing particularly interesting one way or another. Some fellow stars were talking, being interviewed, or just admiring the scene. Photographers were taking photos of guests, journalists asking people various questions. To you, it looked like every other fashion show even you’d been to. To Ji-yong, it looked like an opportunity. 

There were no words shared. His hand clasped around yours, and without thinking your fingers tightened around his. You blinked in surprise, looking ahead as Ji-yong started pulling you through the sea of people. You were wide-eyed as you looked around. Your teams hadn’t noticed you disappearing, but you knew that wouldn’t last long. But Ji-yong moved with purpose, walking through like this wasn’t strange or something other people should take a second glance at. You tried to mimic his confidence, but the butterflies in your stomach refused to simmer down.

In a quiet corner away from the cameras and the wandering eyes, Ji-yong finally came to a stop. You looked at him with a surprised expression. Your lipstick-painted lips parted slightly as you watched him look at you. He adjusted the tie around his neck, something he’d been doing the entire day. You looked behind you, worried who was watching, but a hand wrapping around your waist caught your attention.

His lips pressed against yours. Soft, passionate, and urgent. You squeaked in surprised against him, your hands landing on his chest as he pulled you further into the corner. Hidden away from your peers, from your teams, and from the layers of paparazzi. Your hands clutched tighter onto his jacket. His hands, which traced your body slowly, slowly lifted to grab your face with the most gentle touch. As he pulled away, you could only blink at him with big doe eyes.

“I couldn’t stand there and act like you weren’t the most beautiful thing here.” He whispers. 

The words caused your heart to do flips against your ribcage. His touch seemingly brought you back to earth, his thumb gently brushing against your cheekbone. “Says you, Monsieur G-Dragon,” You tease as you run your hands over the jacket again. This time, he’s the one trying to hide the way his cheeks blush. You looked at the bow tie with the flower on it, tilting your head as you reached up, slowly maneuvering the flower off. He looks down, blinking at it as you hold the flower in your hand, “Is that better?”

He reaches up, adjusting the tie again, and smiling softly. “Yes. Thank you.” He says finally. “How are you?”

“Oh, you know, the usual” You sigh dramatically, shrugging your shoulders. Ji-yong chuckles, nodding in understanding. “Got whisked away by a hot guy, can’t complain.”

Ji-yong raises a brow in amusement. “Is that what happened?” He asks. You look around. “What else would you call this?”

He steps closer, looking up in thought as he lets his arms wrap around your waist. His lips in a line as he tilts his head slightly. He narrows his eyes at you playfully. He didn’t have an answer. He rather liked the idea of whisking you away from the public eye. He did it often, though usually it was more hidden than this. You leaned into his touch, a natural instinct. The rest of the world seemed to drift away, even in moments like this. Only you and Ji-yong existed. Life was better with him. He knew you like the back of his hand. He knew how to make you laugh, how to calm your nerves, how to soothe your cries. He knew your favorite snacks, your order at your favorite coffee shop, and your favorite movies. The same could be said for you. You knew how to quiet his overwhelming thoughts, how to make him smile in stressful moments. You knew his favorite songs to play in the car. His favorite jewelry pieces to wear. You had his tells of when he was anxious or upset burned into your brain. And when one of you were around the other, everybody else melted into the background. Your love trumping anything else.

“We should probably get back out there,” You whisper. He hums in agreement, but neither of you make any move to leave. You lean closer into him, your head resting on his chest as his chin rested on top of your head. You knew it wouldn’t be long until the two of you were together again; a few hours at most. Lately, those hours felt like decades.

Ji-yong gave you another squeeze. “You go out first, jagiya,” He whispers. You pull away from his embrace, staring up at him. The way your glossy eyes sparkled up at him. It was like he could see every ounce of love for him you had, pouring out of you. He framed your face in his hands, kissing you softly. “I love you.”

“I love you,” You whispered against his lips. Reluctantly, you pulled away from his touch, looking back at him again as you walked away. He only smiled softly. Your heart yearned to stay in that corner with him forever, until your managers found you and ripped the two of you apart. You chewed the inside of your cheek, turning away from him completely as you looked for any sign of your team.

In the dark of your hotel room, you and Ji-yong were a tangled mess of bedsheets and limbs. The rest of the event blew by, you making some lame excuse to your team that you had gone to the bathroom, and Ji-yong telling his team that he was looking at some of the pieces again. You ended up having a romantic dinner together, talking about the event and the people you ran into. A quiet night with glasses of champagne and flirtatious glances.

But now, as the two of you were sleeping peacefully in your quiet room, your phones began to buzz. A violent series of notifications flooding both of your phones. You begin to stir first, rolling over slowly, pulling Ji-yongs arms off of you as you reached for your cellphone. A series of calls, texts, emails, all from your manager, publicist, assistant, even friends of yours. You blinked a few times, your eyes squinting at the bright screen as you opened up a text from your closest friend. A news article.

Unexpected Couple! Musician Y/N L/N Seen With K-Pop Idol G-Dragon at Chanel Fashion Show

You felt your heart plummet into your stomach. No, no, no. You had been so careful for so long. You scroll, your breath escaping you as you look at a photo of you and Ji-yong. His hands on your face, his lips on yours. Another photo of you looking up at him like he was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen (he was, to be fair). For a moment, you just stared blankly. Your thoughts struggle to catch up as your body seems to react for you. Nausea came over you. The room suddenly felt too small. The words on the screen burned into your eyes.

You looked at the top of your phone, seeing another phone call from your manager coming in. You ignore it, reaching over to your boyfriend and shaking him. “Ji?” You whisper. When he doesn’t immediately respond, your eyes begin to water. The anxiety, the fear, the stress catching up to you. It crawls up your spine like some sort of ugly clawed fingers reaching for your throat. You shake him again, a little more harsh as you croak. “Ji-yong.”

His eyes shot open. He flinches awake, looking around the room in a momentary panic before looking at you. First, he relaxes, realizing it’s just you. Then, his tired eyes take in yours. The tears threatening to spill over, your shaking frame, your heavy breathing. He sits up now, looking you over in concern. “Aein…? What’s wrong?” As he wakes up, he hears his phone. He turns to look at it, but the whimper from your lips stops him. Slowly, you hand your phone over. Ji-yong looks at you in confusion, but takes it and looks down.

Oh. 

Oh.

What was once a comforting silence now felt cold. The incessant vibrations of his phone on the nightstand made your ears ring. You crawled out of bed, wearing one of Ji-yong’s shirts as pajamas. You paced the carpeted floor, running your hands through your hair. Ji-yong remained silent. He read the article. Then he reread it. Then he read it again. He looked at the photos over and over. The title. The numerous texts you were getting. For a moment, he didn’t know how to react. He sat in the bed, dumbstruck. 

On one hand, part of him wanted to be relieved. The secret was out, and there was no reason to hide his love for you anymore. But this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. It was supposed to be on your terms. Organized by your teams. Some staged paparazzi sighting, or maybe a hard launch on your social medias. He wasn’t sure. The two of you never discussed it that far. Now there was no choice. All because he’d dragged you into his embrace in secret. A selfish moment, now on the cover of multiple articles.

Slowly, he put your phone down, putting it on silent before reaching for his own. He winced at the number of texts he was getting, reaching triple digits. He even saw texts from Taeyang and Daesung, two of the few people who knew about your relationship. But he didn’t answer anyone, turning his own phone off so he could set his attention on your pacing figure. “Jagiya,” He pulls himself out of bed, approaching you with soft eyes. You keep pacing, shaking your head as you try to sort your racing thoughts. “Jagiya, look at me,” He reaches for your hands, pulling you to face him completely. His heart ached as he saw the tears rolling down your cheeks. Your eyes wide with fear and worry. You wanted to go public. But not like this. You’d done so well at keeping your life private, and now it felt like it had been stripped away from you before you could even do it yourself. “I’m so sorry,” 

His words caught you off guard. There’s a heartbeat of silence as you look at him. Your brows crinkle together as you look at him. His sad, anxious expression as he guiltily looks away. “What?” You whisper, a moment of clarity through your emotional storm.

Ji-yong swallows, looking around the room as he holds your hands tightly. Your touch being the only thing grounding him to this moment. “If we hadn’t, if I hadn’t pulled you away, they wouldn’t have seen anything.” He explains. Your eyes dance over his face as you let what he’s saying register. You shake your head. “Ji,” You coo, reaching forward to push his mint hair out of his face. He looks at you, eyes sad and guilty. “It’s not your fault. We knew that there was a risk. Since day one.” You remind him. You were right. Since you started dating two years ago, there was always the possibility the media would find out about the two of you. Both of you are major stars, with public lives (to some degree). “I just, I can’t believe it got leaked at a Chanel show.”

Ji-yong is quiet for a moment, looking over at you. “The photos are cute.” He says. You look at him in surprise. You think about the photos, how oddly scenic they were, how the photographer had captured a genuinely sweet and beautiful moment. You couldn’t help but laugh, wiping at your tears. Ji-yong cracks a smile, though the worry in his eyes still evident. Not worried for himself, no, but worry for you.

“Our managers are going to kill us.” You say, your voice weak from crying and still being tired. Ji-yong nods his head. “What are we going to do?”

He looks at you, tilting his head slightly in curiosity. “What do you want to do?” He asks you. Naturally, the two of you drift towards each other. Your arms wrap around each others frames, Your face tucked into his neck as you close your eyes. His grip on you tight, still gentle, and protective. His fingers rake through your hair as he waits. No rush for you to answer. No rush to figure out the rest of the world. He lets you simmer in his touch, your mind still racing. 

You clutch onto him, not moving away from him as you start to talk. “I want you. That’s it. I want to be able to be with you. I’m not ashamed of being with you, Ji. I’m proud. So proud of you, being with you. I love you.” You feel his arms tighten around you. Slowly, you lift your head and look into his eyes. Now, they were glassy. 

Ji-yong blinks away the pending tears as he sniffles. “You’re the love of my life, Y/N,” He whispers, reaching up to push your hair out of your face. You lean into his touch. “I will never be afraid to say that.” 

You lean closer, kissing him softly. Your heart still pounding against your chest, your mind still a storm of fear and worry for what wrath you’d face from the media, but it didn’t matter. Not in the long run. You had Ji-yong. You loved Ji-yong more than you could ever explain to him or anyone else. And you knew that the two of you would figure it out together. You’d figure out everything together.

“Are you ready?” He asks you, looking at your phones on the bed. This was it. No more secret rendezvous. No more sneaking around. No more lying in interviews about your relationship status. Everybody knows now. There was no hiding from it now.

You smile at him, your eyes sparkling in the way he loved. You nod your head. “I’m ready,” You assure him.

And by the time the two of you would be leaving Paris, on your way back to Seoul, the entire world knew the secret you’d been keeping to yourselves. And in the early morning as you rushed out of your hotel with your security guards, you two didn’t hide from the paparazzi. Ji-yong walked with you, hand-in-hand, as you walked towards your car. The shouts of fans and cameras catch your attention. You smile and wave, blushing wildly as you realize this was real. 

Ji-yong stands up straighter, his hand tightening in yours as he pulls you close. His hand releases yours, only to wrap around your waist tightly as he leads you forward. Ji-yong opens the door for you, despite the security guard reaching for it. Fans scream in awe, and you lean over quickly to press a kiss on his cheek. A weight you didn’t know was there, suddenly lifted. You beamed as Ji-yong slid into the seat next to you. His expression matched yours. Filled with love, excitement, a certain fondness and admiration. “Au revoir, Paris,” Ji-yong muttered as the car started to move. You giggled, leaning into him as you looked around the streets.

“Taeyang and Daesung will never let us hear the end of this.” You muttered, playing with Ji-yong's fingers absentmindedly. A gentle groan comes from Ji-yong, causing you to laugh again. An infinite amount of teasing and playful jokes awaited the two of you back home. Along with a million questions from friends, coworkers, the media, and who knows who else. But you were okay with that. It hadn’t been completely on your terms, but it was yours. Ji-yong was yours.

And if nothing else, it made your stories about Paris far more entertaining.

[vortexbloom]

Phainon, mydei and anaxa (separate) x fem reader romantic

Platonic for the children

Like them as a parent and they have a kid with fem reader, the kid feel lonely because they don't have a sibling and aunty aglaea request the kid to ask their parent about having a sibling.

The kid thank aunty aglaea for the solution and start to run towards their home feeling so exited to ask their parent about having a sibling, when the kid arrived in their house the kid start to search for the parents

when they see the character and fem reader in the living room or the kitchen, the kid start to walk towards the father and ask for a sibling, make both of them suprised by the kid's request meanwhile fem reader's face flushed red as tomato.

The father is eager to have another kid with fem reader and tell the kid that they will give them a sibling, the kid cheer and thank their parents. When the kid leave the parents, the husband feel smug and start to hug their wife from behind and whisper some word, while the male's hand caressing the fem reader's stomach.

🤭

BFKJYBSLYBDLSNDBXKSMS I genuinely love this request 😍😍

Your Child asks you and your Husband for a Sibling (Separate OneShots)

Pairing: Phainon/Mydei/Anaxa x Female Reader

Fandom: HSR (Honkai Star Rail)

Warnings: Might be a lil bit spicy, fluff

☆ ────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆── ☆ ────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆── ☆

Masterlist - Honkai Star Rail

Masterlist - Genshin Impact

Moodboards - Genshin Impact

Masterlist - Marvel

Boycott List

☆ ────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆── ☆ ────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆── ☆

English isn’t my first/native language, so there might be misspellings etc.

I do NOT own any Characters !

Have fun reading this :D

The golden glow of the afternoon sun filtered through the grand windows of your home, casting long shadows across the room. You were curled up in a chair, enjoying a rare moment of quiet, while Phainon sat nearby, casually skimming through a book. His elegant fingers traced the edges of the pages, but his attention was easily drawn away the moment your daughter burst into the room.

"Mommy! Daddy!" she called, her little feet pattering against the floor as she rushed toward you both.

Phainon arched a single brow, closing his book with deliberate slowness. "Yes, little one?"

Your daughter huffed, hands on her hips, looking far too serious for someone her age. "I want a baby brother or sister."

Silence.

You nearly dropped your cup. Phainon, ever composed, simply leaned back in his chair, blue eyes glinting with curiosity—and something undeniably amused.

"Oh?" he mused. "And what has made you decide this?"

"Auntie Aglaea said I should ask!" she declared proudly. "She said if I tell you, then you’ll make it happen!"

You groaned inwardly. Of course Aglaea was behind this.

Phainon hummed, tilting his head slightly. "Is that so?"

Your daughter nodded eagerly. "She said that if two people love each other very much, then they—"

"That’s enough wisdom from Auntie Aglaea," you interrupted swiftly, your face heating up.

Phainon let out a soft, low chuckle, clearly enjoying your reaction far too much.

"But I really want a sibling," your daughter continued, looking between the two of you expectantly. "Please?"

Phainon exhaled, setting his book aside before standing up. He moved with his usual grace, stepping toward your daughter and crouching to meet her gaze. Then, with an elegant smile, he reached out and gently ruffled her hair.

"You are quite lucky, little one," he murmured smoothly. "Because your wish has already been granted."

Your daughter’s eyes widened in delight. "Really?! I’m getting a sibling?"

Phainon nodded. "Yes. You’ll have a younger sibling soon."

She let out a happy squeal, jumping excitedly before rushing off. "I have to tell Auntie Aglaea!"

As soon as she disappeared down the hall, you let out a long sigh, placing a hand over your forehead. "I am going to kill Aglaea."

Phainon chuckled deeply, his amusement evident as he stepped behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist.

"You should be thanking her," he murmured, his voice a low, velvety purr against your ear.

His hands slid over your stomach, his touch warm and deliberate, caressing the gentle curve there. His fingers traced slow, lazy circles, a silent promise lingering in the air between you.

You shivered. "She’s meddling again."

Phainon hummed, his lips brushing against your temple. "Perhaps," he mused, "but she does have a point."

You exhaled, leaning into his embrace as his grip tightened, possessive yet tender. "And what point is that?"

“That it won’t hurt to have another child,” he whispered, his voice laced with something darker, something deeper. "After all…why not have a fourth member for our family?"

Your breath caught, heat rushing to your face. "You’re impossible."

"And yet," he purred, nuzzling against your neck, his fingers still caressing your stomach, "you wouldn’t have me any other way."

You sighed, relaxing into his hold. He was right. And somehow, you knew that Aglaea would be very, very pleased with the outcome of her meddling.

The soft hum of conversation filled the grand dining hall as you sat at the long table, enjoying a peaceful evening meal with Mydei and your son. The delicate scent of freshly prepared dishes lingered in the air, the atmosphere calm, unhurried.

For once, everything was tranquil.

Until your son suddenly set down his fork, puffing out his chest with all the determination of a warrior about to embark on a quest.

"Mommy! Daddy! I want a baby brother! Or a sister!"

You nearly choked on your food.

Mydei, in contrast, remained perfectly composed, leisurely twirling his wine glass between his fingers as he looked at your son with mild amusement. "Oh?"

Your son nodded enthusiastically, his little hands gripping the edge of the table. "Auntie Aglaea said I should ask you! She said if I really, really want a sibling, I should keep asking until you say yes!"

You let out a long sigh, already feeling a headache forming. "Of course, she did."

Mydei set down his glass, his expression unreadable. "And what would you do with a younger sibling, champ?"

Your son brightened. "I’d teach them everything! Like how to run fast, and how to sneak extra desserts from the kitchen when the chefs aren’t looking!"

You shot him a look. "You’ve been sneaking extra desserts?"

"…No?"

Mydei chuckled, resting his chin on his hand, his golden eyes gleaming with amusement. "A noble cause, indeed."

Your son clasped his hands together in a pleading motion. "Please? I promise I’ll be the best big brother ever!"

Mydei let the silence linger for a moment, his expression betraying nothing—until he finally leaned forward slightly, his lips curling into a small, knowing smile.

"You need not worry," he said smoothly. "You’re getting that sibling."

Your son froze, blinking rapidly. "Wait… REALLY?!"

Mydei nodded. "Yes. Soon, you will have a younger sibling."

Your son let out an excited shout, nearly knocking over his chair in his rush to stand. "I have to tell Auntie Aglaea!" He bolted from the room, his voice echoing down the hall, "Auntie Aglaea, it worked!!!"

You sighed and rubbed your temples. "That woman is too involved in our lives."

A deep chuckle rumbled behind you, and before you could react, Mydei’s arms slid around your waist, pulling you against his chest. His hold was firm yet impossibly gentle, his presence warm and grounding.

"Oh cmon, having a second child wouldn’t hurt, hm?," he murmured, his voice a silken purr against your ear.

His long fingers traced slow, deliberate circles over your stomach, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. His gestures were possessive, reverent, as if he was savoring this moment, the reality of your growing family settling between you.

You exhaled, placing your hands over his. "Well….I guess you‘re right."

Mydei’s smirk was audible in his tone. "Good to know that you think like this."

He pressed a slow, lingering kiss against the curve of your neck, his hands never leaving your stomach. "After all," he whispered, his voice dipping into something darker, more intimate, "this is a future I desire just as much as you."

You sighed, relaxing into his embrace, fully aware that Aglaea would be unbearably smug when she heard about this.

And yet, despite her meddling, you couldn’t bring yourself to be annoyed.

Because in the end, your family was growing.

And that was all that mattered.

The quiet of the evening was broken by the sound of your son rushing into the living room, his footsteps heavy with determination. You looked up from your book, eyebrows raising at his sudden entrance. Beside you, Anaxa remained in his usual state of calm composure, his dark, piercing eyes following your son’s movements without a flicker of emotion.

"Mom! Dad!" your son exclaimed, bouncing up to you both with wide, eager eyes. "I want a sibling!"

You blinked in surprise. "A sibling?" you echoed, unsure if you’d heard him right.

Your son nodded fervently. "Yep! Auntie Aglaea said I should ask you if I want one. She said it’s the best idea ever!"

Anaxa raised a brow. "Aglaea, was it?" His lips curled into a small, knowing smile, though his voice remained soft, laced with a hint of amusement.

"Yeah! She said I should ask for a brother or sister!" your son continued, clearly excited by the thought. "I’ll be the best big brother! I promise!"

You felt a sudden weight in your chest. Of course, Aglaea would encourage this.

Your husband’s expression didn’t change, though his eyes softened slightly as he regarded your son. "So, you want a sibling?" Anaxa asked, his tone surprisingly gentle.

Your son nodded vigorously. "Uh-huh! Someone to play with, someone to teach all the cool stuff I know!"

Anaxa’s lips twitched upward in the smallest of smiles, but he kept his tone steady as he replied, "Well, I guess we’re going to have a new member for our family soon."

Your son’s eyes widened, and he froze for a moment. "Wait, really?!"

Anaxa nodded. "Yes. Soon, you’ll have a younger sibling to play with."

Before either of you could say another word, your son jumped up, his face breaking into a wide grin. "I have to tell Auntie Aglaea! She’s gonna be so happy!" He bolted out of the room, barely pausing to look back as his laughter echoed down the hall.

You let out a deep breath, rubbing your temples. "Aglaea is absolutely going to gloat over this."

Anaxa chuckled softly, the sound low and smooth, before he shifted behind you, his hands finding your waist with practiced ease. He drew you back against his chest, his presence warm and solid, comforting.

"I suppose we should thank her for this," he murmured, his voice rumbling through you like a gentle wave.

You snorted softly, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed your amusement. "Thank her for giving our child ideas?"

Anaxa’s breath was warm against your ear as he leaned down, his lips brushing your temple in a light, affectionate kiss. "She only pushes us toward things we both want, my love."

You leaned back into his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as he caressed your stomach in slow, deliberate movements. His fingers were gentle yet firm, a reminder of the strength he wielded and the tenderness he reserved for you.

"Soon, you will carry our second child," Anaxa said, his words low and thoughtful, as if savoring the moment.

Your heart fluttered, and you placed your hand over his, feeling the warmth of his touch seep into your skin. "I wasn’t expecting this… but I’m glad. I want this too."

Anaxa pressed a kiss to your neck, his arms tightening around you ever so slightly. "I know, my love. You and I make a good team. And soon, we’ll have more laughter in this house."

You turned in his arms to face him, gazing into his eyes—those dark, stormy eyes that held so many secrets, yet in this moment, they were full of something softer. Something more tender.

"I love you," you whispered, your voice full of quiet affection.

Anaxa smiled, a rare, genuine smile that softened his usual sharp features. "I love you too, my dear. And now, we get to watch our family grow."

As the warmth of his embrace surrounded you, you felt the weight of Aglaea’s meddling lift off your shoulders. Your family was expanding, and that was all that mattered.

Have a good day/night/evening/morning/afternoon ☼꥟☽

[leighsartworks216]

Hello! Hope your days going great.

Saw you opened requests for Valentine's and honestly you're my go to blog for dealing with all the feelings Zayne gives me. 🫠

I tried to really think about a good proper fluffy Valentine's prompt, but I can't get the idea of Zayne's full body weight on reader.

Just full on flop, waist between knees, nose in neck crook, arms around an arched back type of full contact cuddle. 😩🤌🏼

Post date? Early morning? Maybe the first time he ever truly let's himself he held? Not worrying about crushing them?

I just want him to drape over me like a weighted blanket.

Bonus points if there's some scalp scratching type of melty action? I just want to smother that man in my love honestly.

All Night Forever

Zayne x gn!Reader

I will always drop everything to hold this man and give him the attention he deserves

Title from "All Night Forever" by TWRP (it suits him SO well)

Warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, established relationship, slow dancing, cuddling, kissing, touch-starved Zayne, literal sleeping together, silly, teasing, banter

Word Count: 1,190

Main Masterlist

First - Second - Third LADS Masterlists

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Zayne smiles softly as he watches you twirl into the house. You hum a song aloud, mindlessly kicking your shoes away and following imaginary dance steps. It’s one of the songs they played at the gala tonight.

He toes off his own shoes. Crouching down, he sets his them in their proper place before gathering yours and neatly aligning them in just the same way. He doesn’t have a chance to grab your slippers before you’re tapping on his shoulder and tugging on his arm.

“Dance with me,” you say. Your movements have the familiar lag of exhaustion, lingering just at the very edge of your swaying hips. Your eyes are still so bright and excited, but the bags underneath are more prominent with the late hour. And yet here to are, pulling him back up to his feet so he can dance with you.

He chuckles as he steps closer, his hands settling easily on your waist. “Haven’t you danced enough for one night?” You wrap your arms around his neck. Your fingers play with the edge of his collar, guiding him with you as you step away from the door and into the house proper.

It’s dark. The only light to guide the way comes from the ceiling light in the entryway, but its warm reach only extends so far. It’s substituted by the moon’s blue glow the further you go, highlighting the edge of furniture and the side of your face. Despite the lack of proper light, you move through the house with ease. You never have anything to fear; even if you were drunk and stumbling, Zayne would guide you away from any danger, protecting you from a stubbed toe or banged up shin.

You step back, he steps forward. Each step is reciprocated, timed out to the slow song you hum. You lead him into the living room. He quirks an eyebrow in question, but he follows. He would follow you into hell, swaying back and forth and never letting his eyes stray from your face.

He’s caught off balance when you hug him tighter and pull him down, though he should have expected such an act of mischief from you. You fall back onto the soft couch cushions, bouncing lightly with the impact. He has to let you go in order to catch himself. His hands cage you in, one knee between your legs. His other leg is extended out, standing on the soft carpet laid out across the floor to keep himself steady. He shoots you a glare, though it lacks any real upset.

“Lay with me,” you plead sweetly. You tug on him lightly, but he stays firm. “I want to hold you.”

He shakes his head with a soft, breathy laugh. “You’re going to be uncomfortable,” he warns, thumbing at the sleeve of your attire, “dressed like this.”

You shift so your knee presses against his side, urging him further to lay down between your legs. “That’s a Future-Me problem. Now-Me wants to hold my boyfriend.”

“Future-You is going to be complaining to Future-Zayne about this. He won’t say ‘I told you so,’ but he’ll be thinking it.”

You giggle. “Noted. Now, please?”

“You need to move over.”

“Nope. Just lay on top of me!”

He gives you a dubious look. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Never truly able to resist your antics, he relents. He brings his other leg up onto the couch. As he lowers himself down to lay on top of you, his legs stretch out behind him, toes nearly touching the arm rest. His arms are the last to adjust. You can tell by the serious, focused look on his face he’s concerned about resting his full weight on you. All it takes to remove that worry is, naturally, you: you hug him close, guiding his head to your chest and kissing his forehead, and he finally slips his arms under your back to hug you in return.

Once everything has settled into place, he rests his chin on your chest to look at your face. “Happy?”

Your smile puts the moon to shame. “Almost.”

Before he can ask what else you want - your dear Zayne, always ready to ask ‘how high’ when you say ‘jump’ - you’re taking it for yourself. You drag your nails along his scalp, immediately drawing shivers and a shuddering sigh from him. His arms curl tighter around your body. His ears turn pink with blush. But all this leads to what you really wanted, as his body relaxes further into yours and his weight presses you deeper into the cushions.

“Now,” you whisper, “I’m happy.”

You think he flushes deeper with embarrassment at being caught so off guard by such a simple touch, but he doesn’t fight it. He turns his face to the side, resting his cheek against you. “You still find ways to surprise me, even now,” he murmurs. “However, I won’t deny that it feels nice.”

You bite your lip to try hiding the wide smile that wants to break free. You watch his face as you tangle your fingers into his hair, scratching lightly across his scalp, from the nape of his neck to the crown of his head and back. It’s addicting, watching the way his body reacts. You can see the tension leave his shoulders and back. Feel the way he all but melts into you. His head tilts slightly into your touch, chasing after the sensations that tingle under his skin, even as he tries to lie still. His soft breaths, shaky and content.

Minutes pass by in comfortable silence, broken only by your shared breaths and synced heartbeats. You thought he was already asleep when he slowly shifts further up, adjusting himself so he can hide his face in your neck. His nose is cold where it brushes your skin. He murmurs a soft apology when you involuntarily jolt from it, but you don’t let him pull away. Instead it nuzzles into your pulse, replaced every now and again with his soft lips leaving tired kisses that linger as he counts each beat of your heart.

You brush his bangs aside to kiss his forehead. “I love you…” you whisper against his skin.

“I love you, too…” he whispers back, just before his breathing evens out and he falls asleep in your arms.

-

BONUS:

You sit up with a groan, rubbing at your neck and arching your back in hopes it’ll pop and steal with it the ache in your spine. Lines are imprinted in your skin from your clothes, that now feel like sandpaper against your skin.

Zayne, wet hair sticking to his forehead and fresh, comfortable clothes in place of his suit from last night, smiles down at you. He wordlessly passes over two pain tablets and a glass of water.

You glare at him as you take the medicine. “You can’t say it. You said Future-Zayne wouldn’t say it.”

“I did,” he concedes. His smile only grows wider as he leans over the back of the couch to kiss your forehead. “But I also believe I said he would be thinking it.”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @deepzombieyouth @armycaratlover @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @hawtlineblingz @that-lost-one @always-just-red

[4mrplumi]

ZERO (iii) : SCAVENGERY . (ms/prev/next)

-> plot synopsis - you don't think you're as odd and horrifying as the news makes you out to be. but you have never much cared for the validation of others, and certainly not theirs.

-> batfamily x serial killer reader. playlist (wip) ask 2b added to taglist

-> tw; gn reader, guns, violence, child neglect, messed up legal system, mention of death, poor living conditions, bug taxidermy, everyone's a b, paranoia, ocd, full list on master list.

> a/n; the prologues are text heavy... i'll try more dialogue for the first chapter (next upload) and onwards. in the mean time, feel free to send asks and ideas, i'd love to discuss and tie up my own lose ends too. hope this suffices for the reader's relationship with the bat family!

“family business”, you squint at the sign, “12th sector conveniences, run by a family business!” the print on the plastic sign is misspelled, and fading away completely. red into pink, orange into pale yellow, and green into cyan. a lovely place to be at for what you’re doing.

family has always been an iffy subject for you, in your mind and verbal exchanges. you never humoured your friends’ prods at you to talk, and were especially vigilant about shutting down conversations about family.

you’d already brushed over the meaning of the word in your head, on terms with the fact that you would most likely never understand it in this lifetime, but the experience with it still stung. sometimes.

at ten years old, the landlord of your apartment, who’d let you stay for free since it was so horribly kept, passed away. it meant you had effectively no place to live, since it wasn’t legally in your hands anymore. nothing much about your situation was legal, but he’d argued your case for you for years, and the neighbours were supportive of it too.

gotham is a gritty place, and even with the varied dictionary of swears they used to poke away security, it was a little show of squishy softness from the people. 

after he died, your friends’ parents and your neighbours shuffled you around in their homes, month to month to keep you around. no one thought of calling fosters, or the police, since you were their kid as much as their children were. “love” was an odd word to use, people in your alley married for benefits and children were kept about for that reason too. there were exceptions, but the reason for your staying was obligation.

at eleven, you got caught directly in between a scuffle on the streets. the guys must’ve been waiting to put off steam, since it got bloody way faster than you’d ever seen. but honestly? you could’ve gone past it, it was nothing unnatural for the city, and having grown up in it on your own, you would’ve been fine.

but gotham was a city full of interruptions. buses, classes, going to the store for chips or even walking back home, you would be interrupted. by a gun, a fist, or if you were especially unlucky, the big old bat and his big old car. you wonder if you could’ve saved yourself all the trouble, the tax on your mental state and the worry you keep everyday of your life now, if you had just been a bit faster, fast enough to avoid the batman’s interruption. maybe, you would’ve been in the stairwell with your friends now, eating chips or running from old mister ford on the sixth floor.

you’d been put in the police station down the road, the same one your friend had thrown a brick through last week, while the caped weirdo, batman, told you it’d be alright. alright? you were fine. what did he mean, alright?

you’d nagged the officers to let you go, lying that people at home would be worried (maybe they were, you never got to know), but they’d sat you down and expected forced, timid compliance from you. these guys are always expecting better. one lady even had the gall to put on a show for you on the tiny tv in one of the “comfort-rooms” and you’d gone biting, screaming and struggling.

‘radicalised’ was what your landlord-uncle had called it. gotham’s people, even those not submerged in the high of crime, couldn’t help but grow up to be hard and rough at the edges, hating the people who put them here. the divide between the common people and the socialites was so jarring, so far. you didn’t want to comply with what these guys were telling you to do. all the adults hated them! why wouldn’t you?

it had taken two hours of watching a few pink-haired girls run around behind the screen, in cold, cold anger before you were let out. “a new home,” the lady officer had said, “safer.” it wasn’t until later that you got to know the reason they didn’t let you leave or shoved you in a care-home you could've run from, and instead pushed you into the manor; was because of your lack of legal documents. most noticeably, your birth certificate and the absence of your parents. 

you think now, that maybe batman had expected you to be broken, ruined and lonely like his other odd children. fact of the matter is, that you were fine. you were none of those things, until he intruded in your life. why he never let you go… perhaps he feared any resentment you held. you held none, until him.

the fight never left, you’d hissed all the way home at the old guy and the other man who’d come to pick you up, swiping at a hand offered to you. a new home? a new home? you had a home! they were waiting for you, you think, what do these people mean about a new home? why would you trust a badge and cap or a suit and tie, on their judgement of safety?

you want to go home.

the house they put you in was gargantuanly huge, your room the size of your old shared apartments. it made you sick. the ceiling was too high, and the corridors too long. admitting to fear was a sure way to get snuffed on the streets, and you didn’t admit to it, spending hours hiding in a bathroom alone, still too big for your liking. you hid and hid and you still hide. all the time.

when you got used to the place, pangs of loneliness and homesickness hit you. having never talked much, it was an unusual habit to reach out to someone. the flats you lived in used to be small enough for three people to have to sleep in the same bedroom. and the other four to crash on top of each other on the couch.

it’s different here, you’re alone. there’s no situation where everybody has to be together. you could tail along with the old guy while he cleaned, or stalk the boy who came to visit every month, but you avoided the man who got you here at all costs. you hate him, it would be betrayal to yourself to want to be around him. but seeking out company was too taxing, too new a thing for you. no one else came to you on their own, never needed anything from you. you were isolated. lonely. scared.

you weren’t forbidden from going outside, but always tailed by a security guard your “father” would set on you. the place where you grew up was blocked off your mental map too, a firm hand on your soldier from the boy, richard grayson, and his voice telling you it was off limits.

when you demanded a snarled “why?” with a dark, dark scowl, he’d just shook his head. an answer never came to you on its own, but it was quite clear you’d never be able to disobey.  so you scuffled around, lonely, the shadow of the manor on you making street-kids you’d get along with otherwise frown at you, everywhere.

a few months after your glorified kidnapping, another boy came into the polished picture of your family photo; jason todd. he was about the same age as you, with a noticeable and heavy gothamite-accent that you recognised immediately. though you still didn’t much enjoy seeking out the company of anyone in the house, jason’s was by far, the easiest to go to.

he was a surprisingly tender little kid, you’d expected a meaner, more similar to you type of guy, but it didn’t matter much. you’d sit in the same room as him when he studied, listen to him whisper under his breath about some composition of something, watch him run around in the garden after alfred to help him, gain the favour of the man, and wonder where he’d gone at night when you tried to stay awake with him in either of your rooms. the two of you were unalike, but the comfort of knowing rags better than rugs brought you together, just a bit.

towards the… end, he’d become more biting. more snappy, on edge. the change had come suddenly, and made you conflicted. on one end, you were delighted at his hostility, seeing a familiarity of behaviour with him. he was finally growing into the hardened shell. the other end just made you sad. what happened to the kid? to your brother? what happened to him?

it’s safe to say his death destroyed any neutrality you had for this place. when you’d seen bruce one night, he’d looked absolutely horrible, and you hadn’t understood why. you couldn’t much bother to ask, assuming it must’ve been bitchy-bad billionaire-blues, and the shock, the blunt punch that came to your gut at attending jason’s funeral the next day made you sick. 

dick had stood crying, his face in his hands, alfred had put an umbrella down to his face in what you assumed was sorrow, and bruce’s expression was unintelligible under the shadows that fell on it. you only stared, and stared, and stared at the stone of his grave, as though wanting to erode it, dig him out. jason. jason. a good soldier. 

soldier?

you were livid, entirely unable to express your emotions in any way possible, no outlet among your family, no friends, no social circle or activities to let out even the smallest sliver of your anger out. you hadn’t cried, mourning was never one of your customs, but you were so horribly angry. he was gone. gone.

what probably made it worse was that you never knew how he died. he disappeared one day, and came back dead the other. your only half-friend in your whole life, was gone, the sweet, helpful little boy, gone. your brother. gone. you shut off entirely, unwilling to accept dick’s offers to spend time together, snarling that his attempts at being a better brother to you would never undo anything that he’d ever done. with no knowledge on the cause of his death, you blamed everyone for jason todd’s story. 

dick had pulled away his hand, expression darkening, and did very pointedly avoid you from there on. thinking back, you wonder why he couldn’t excuse your grief. you were a child too. how did he manage to excuse everyone else?

tim drake’s arrival had been a thing of great disgust to you. he’d become an outlet for your fury, shoving past him in the corridors, muttering curses at him at the smallest issues, and flashing a scowl and a glare at his direction whenever he spoke. from the very beginning, tim knew about your distrust, your hatred of him, and avoided you in return to avoid trouble.

maybe you shouldn't have, and you don’t anymore to anybody, but you’d often go at him when you were at home. snarky comments on what he did, brushing off efforts he didn’t even present to you. you could see the slight effect it had on him, reclusivity, him thinking twice over his words. that on it’s own, and grayson’s narrowed glare and muttered “lay off, (name)” had almost made you guilty. 

almost.

he’d come to eventually just spit back at you, or ignore you, and you’d leave him be too. it’s just that the impact that period of time had on the both of you was irrefutable, and harsher exchanges would come out much easier from your mouth now. again, you wonder, why he couldn’t excuse you. you would take any hatred back from him, face the consequences of your actions and accept what you did was terrible. even if he never forgave you for being so unwelcoming to the little boy he was, if it meant that one day, tim drake would look your way without a scowl. but why did he never excuse you?

around this time, you took up many things. jason’s death had soured you against the crime in gotham way more than your arrival at the manor did, so you took to listening to the news and skimming through pamphlets. the common figures of the batman and robin had created a semi-permanent furrow in your brow, and you pitied the robin-boy who’d have to work along the incompetent, interrupting, annoying bat-hag. batman. 

the repetition of’ saves the day’, ‘exposes the scene’ and ‘back at arkham’ formed a slight obsession in you, and you had to know who these… geeks in costume interrupting everything were. if they could so skilfully weave through the riddler’s intricate puzzles, handle the joker’s lunatic schemes and avoid the bristling thorns of poison ivy’s attacks, how could they not put their minds to the little guy? the smaller problems?

 from stalking tim and watching his work methods, without his awareness, you picked up a pin and a photo, and got to work. school was never challenging, maybe initially with your lack of an uneducated pre-teens, but easy to catch up to with your abundance of time. with all the hours freed up from not having to do homework you’d already finished, you made it a personal goal to find out who batman and robin were. the man and the boy who failed you, jason, and all the kids down the road.

and you found out. in february, wearing a short sleeved shirt ‘cause the heating was always up, with a final thread of glittering blue thread, you found out. the anger that had built up over the years had started to die out, and snapped with a fizzle when you understood.

you hate them. bruce wayne, dick grayson, tim drake and even, even jason todd. you hate them all. incompetent fools. idiots.

a sense of emptiness lingered in you for days, a morose sense of nothing to do. you came across a video of a girl stuffing a hollowed spider with cotton, and gently placing it’s dangly limbs on top of pins like they were footrests. the spider’s paws were limp on her sides, but she looked alive. she looked alive, even after dying.

maybe it would’ve passed on a fleeting interest, if you had not come to the terms with the fact that rich people could do just whatever. without asking anyone, you’d gone out to buy a board and some bob-pins, signed your name off as someone else on the shop record book and left. two habits, hobbies, created on the same day. taxidermy and paranoia. 

you were not paranoid.

when you were now sixteen, bruce- no, batman, had gotten home troubled, more so that usual. it had peaked your curiosity, and you couldn’t help but eavesdrop through a micro communicator tim had so considerably left out in his room when you snooped through it.

the silhouette of a red hood trailed their conversations, troubling them with drugs and guns and knives. you’d found it all very amusing, minus the fact of his crimes. anyone who troubled the batman was amusing, but crime? you never excuse.

the relevance two months down that jason todd was alive, when you left the communicator on on a sleepless night, jolted you fully awake. a similar resurgence of not knowing, and fear, and worry engulfed you, much alike the same feelings you felt coming to the manor five years ago. 

you wanted to demand for answers, weasel out how, why, where he was. why he wasn’t coming home and why bruce was so incompetent at getting him back to the manor. but you couldn’t. no one could know you knew, no one could know you had that information, of their identities on them, and have that leverage over you. you bit your tongue. 

you never spoke to him, or saw jason face to face after his “rebirth”, catching glimpses of his voice on the mic’s that inputted into the oracle’s connected networks at night. you caught a glimpse of a large figure, draped in a leather jacket jumping out the window from the kitchen, but too late and too awkward to call out.

he’d gotten so tall. grown up. it hurts so bad, and you’ve never hurt before. never admitted it.

how had he managed to regain just the littlest bit of ties with the rest of the family, but not with you? you knew he snuck in on some nights, and he rarely ever came to the manor to talk to anyone, but how was it so easy for him to just, forget you? did he ever wonder where you were? did he ever want to see you again? you know he couldn’t, wouldn’t, but would he want to?

the pain that comes from seeing damian enter the manor is ten folds that. another little boy, falling to the bat’s trap of glory and growing up like jason and dick and tim, trapped. you want to warn him, but his kohl-lined eyes and scowling face makes it too difficult.

he reminds you too much of yourself, and that’s just about the scariest thing you know. self-importance and snarkiness. 

the worst thing? their tolerance. their excuses. dick’s grin at damian a day after the loudest scuffle, the meanest words you’d heard come from a ten year old’s mouth, him being excused. tolerated. tim excusing him, and bothered to still talk to damian even after all the insults and demeaning of his work, the tolerance he received.

bruce wayne’s hand on his shoulder, showing him around to help him adapt to the new, unfamiliar place. why had no one done that for you? why did no one excuse you, see if you were okay? why were you like this? what had damian done that you hadn’t, and what had you done that he didn’t?

“the blood son”, he had declared at you the first time the two of you spoke, “has come to show his worth to the family. remain on the sidelines from your unimportant and tarnishing stain on father’s name, or struggle against my defense.” you didn’t respond to his edwardian monologue, and left despite his appalled scoff at your indifference. the blood son. he had a family. you could never compare to the concern or the trouble they put in to be with him, because he was family.

family. 

you could’ve ignored damian if he didn’t come into your business so often. poking at the posters you’d put up to cope with the large, empty walls in your room, scoffing at the music you’d put on to drown out the ring in your ears from the silence and snapping your last nerve upon stealing a cricket from your board to bury in the garden.

you’d said nothing, quietly taking it back when he was faraway, straightening the legs of the insect with a motherly tenderness. he had soiled a lifeform put in your hands over his own sense of honour and humanity, effectively disgracing the ideals you had been raised on and live on now.

you knew of his upbringing, and you knew better his horror at your practice. but nevertheless, it was yours. he didn’t excuse you, he demeaned you, he didn’t consider you family.

he was not your family.

none of them were, and none of them will be. they’re self-prestiged vigilantes with overblown egos and no semblance of shame or understanding. they know nothing, and you can’t abandon a city so unfortunate to be in their care like this. they don’t know anything, because the ceiling they live under is too high to need to crouch and hide, and the corridor is too large for them to have to squeeze through when running.

a tap on your shoulder brings you out of thought, and your reply is a gruff “you’re late” at the girl in front of you. the salty green-white lights of 12th sector conveniences buzz on as you make your way inside, and garcia’s grin is too wide for someone so inconsiderate of your carefully mapped plans.

you hate your family, and their poor work. so you’ll have to scheme in different run-down hell holes to undo their messes. but order and control is important. if you’re in hell, why should you stop here? “one day”, your ‘girlfriend’ had said, “all these places you take me-” “you all,” you had interrupted, “i take you all” “-will be as clean as your nails, (name)”

you hope that she’s not mocking. and you hope she’s right.

> a/n; nothing much left 2 say! i notice my writing habits have switched up a bit, way less unnecessary words and stuffs. this is queued for tmrw so hopefully im not spamming anything. re-added the tags i left out for zero:ii too. idk when my next upload will be since my first exam is day after tmrw, but i wanna really write for the plot soon.

thanks for reading!!

taglist: @boredselkie @shirp-collector-of-fixations @randomlyappearingartist @bat1212 @maicenitas @xjesterxjacksx @heartjwonie @lucienneb1ue @vikkus-main @adornedlace @cuntiesweet @minorlyatfall @staarflowerr @ithoughtthinks @crazycaoticsimp

[navyiera]

All the Things I Love about You

pairing: caitlyn kiramman x fem!reader

synopsis: sometimes there are bad days when things don't go your way but luckily there's caitlyn who can turn everything back to the way you like it.

for anyone who's having a bad day :( keep going, im proud of you!!

You don’t mean to say it out loud.

It’s just one of those days—one where your mind feels cluttered and restless, where the smallest things seem to go wrong, and suddenly, everything feels heavier than it should. You don’t know when it started, but now you’re moving around the room, absentmindedly mumbling under your breath, listing every little thing you don’t like about yourself.

“Too indecisive… get flustered too easily… always messing things up…”

Caitlyn looks up from her book across the room, her gaze sharp and steady as she watches you move. At first, she doesn’t say anything, just quietly observing. But when you sigh and mutter something about being “too much of a burden,” she closes her book with a quiet thud.

“Well, I suppose I should chime in,” she says matter-of-factly.

You blink, turning toward her. “What?”

She stands, smoothing out an invisible wrinkle in her blouse, and takes a step closer. “Since we’re listing things, I’d like to add a few of my own.”

Your stomach tightens. “Caitlyn, that’s not—”

She doesn’t let you finish. Instead, she reaches for your hand, lacing her fingers through yours. Her grip is firm but gentle, grounding. “I love the way your eyes light up when you talk about something you’re passionate about.”

You freeze. “Caitlyn—”

“I love how thoughtful you are, how you notice the smallest details about people and remember them,” she continues, as if you hadn’t spoken. “Like the way you always make my tea just how I like it. Or how you remember which side of the bed I prefer, even though I wouldn’t mind switching.”

Her voice is calm, unwavering, and she’s looking at you so intently that it’s impossible to brush off her words.

“I love how you get excited over the little things—how you squeeze my hand when you see a cat across the street, or how you gasp at the first snowfall of the year, like you’re seeing it for the first time.”

A lump forms in your throat, but she isn’t finished.

“I love how expressive you are. How I can read your thoughts just by watching your face.” She tilts her head slightly, studying you with fond amusement. “Like right now. You’re trying to figure out how to change the subject.”

You let out a small, shaky laugh, dropping your gaze. “Maybe.”

She squeezes your hand before letting go, only to cup your face instead, tilting it back up so you have no choice but to meet her eyes. “I love how much you care, even when you try to downplay it. How you always notice when I’m tired and bring me tea before I even ask. How you listen—really listen—when I talk, even when I ramble.”

You swallow hard, struggling to hold her gaze. “Caitlyn, I…”

She leans in just slightly, pressing her forehead against yours. “I love your laugh,” she murmurs. “I love the way you hum when you’re focused, and how you tilt your head when you’re curious. I love how you always reach for my hand, even when you’re half-asleep. And I love how you try to hide your smile when I’m being too sappy.”

You let out another breathless laugh, one that turns into something closer to a soft sniffle as you blink rapidly. “This is unfair.”

She smiles, brushing her thumb over your cheek. “It’s the truth.”

A few seconds of silence stretch between you, warm and quiet. Then, she whispers, “And I love you.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, inhaling slowly before opening them again. “I don’t always feel like I’m worth all that.”

Caitlyn doesn’t hesitate. “You are.”

The certainty in her voice makes something ache deep in your chest.

She tilts your chin up slightly, eyes full of quiet affection. “I don’t care how long it takes for you to believe me. I’ll remind you every time.”

You nod, unable to trust your voice, and she takes it as permission to close the last bit of space between you, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

She lingers there for a moment, her lips warm against your skin, before pulling back just enough to press another to your cheek. Then another, slower, against the corner of your mouth, her breath fanning against your lips.

You exhale, tilting toward her instinctively. “You’re really unfair, you know that?”

Caitlyn hums, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “Mm. But you’re smiling now.”

You roll your eyes, but the warmth in your chest refuses to fade. “Okay, okay. I get it.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Do you?”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “I’m trying.”

Caitlyn’s expression softens even further. “That’s enough.”

She pulls you into a gentle hug, and you let yourself sink into it, letting her warmth chase away the last lingering shadows of doubt.

[grandline-fics]

For your Valentine's Event: Single Red Rose with Benn Beckman. ❤️

DESCRIPTION: Single Red Rose- When your date goes wrong, they come to your rescue

WARNINGS:  mutual pining but it all works out.

CHARACTERS: Benn Beckman

WORDS: 923

A/N: Thank you @thecrimsonacademic for this request for the Valentine's Event! I hope you like what I came up with for Beck. This is my second time writing for him so I'm still trying to get the hang of getting his personality down

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST | KO-FI | VALENTINES EVENT MASTERLIST

————————

When you’d returned to the Red Force, Benn immediately noticed the extra bounce in your step and unshakable smile. His eyes always seemed to find you regardless of what was going on around him but when your mood was this good, it was impossible for him to not notice. You must have encountered something very fun to do on the island they’d stopped at. Still it didn't explain why you were back so soon. He was one of the few on watch duty. You were part of the group out exploring the island. Curious he stepped up beside you as you made your way to the kitchen to grab a drink. “What’s got you so upbeat? Yasopp get drunk and fall asleep in a flowerbed again?”

“No! It's too early for that, even for him.” You grinned, leaning against the counter while Beck grabbed a drink of his own. “I’ve got a date tonight.”

Not a lot surprised Benn much anymore but that declaration did make him pause and the once delicious mouthful of ale in his mouth seemed to become heavier and harder to swallow. While nothing ever explicit had happened between you both, Benn was very aware of his feelings that had been growing for you to be beyond just crewmates and friends.

You’d both flirted more times than he could count and been affectionate but nothing ever romantic or sexual since Benn believed letting things take the natural course to be the best plan of action. Seemed while he was on the ship and you were out on your own, someone caught your eye. He was a realist to know this wasn’t love for you and this random person. The ship would be setting sail in a couple days, this was just something to pass the time. Regardless of the meaning, the word ‘date’ twisted something unpleasant in him. 

“A date huh?” Beck asked, keeping an air of calm and lightheartedness in his words because the last thing he would ever do was sour your happiness. “Hope they’re able to show you a good time. You deserve it.”

“I hope so too.” You smiled warmly as you finished your drink and sighed with a light shrug. “But if turns into a bad time, I’ll not cry over it. They’re cute, but not that cute. I’m going to get ready.” You stepped away and walked towards the door only to stop and quickly turn to look at Benn warningly but still with a touch of playfulness in your stare. “And if Shanks asks-”

“I know, I know. ” Beckman chuckled, knowing the last thing you'd want on a date was for Shanks to lurk nearby or tease you and disrupt things. “I won’t say a word until we set sail.”

“You’re the best, Beck.” You beamed before disappearing down the hallway to get ready for your night.

It wasn't long after you’d left to go meet your date when Lucky and Hongo returned to allow Benn and the others remaining on board to go out and see the island and have some fun. Beck knew he wouldn’t need to search far to find at least someone in the crew, knowing their lively presences would make themselves known without any effort. He was right because someone in the crew did appear, he was just surprised to see it was you and even stranger still you were on your own and the bounce you had in your step earlier was gone. “Hey you.” Beck greeted, his voice snapping you out of your thoughts. “What happened?”

“Guy never showed.” You explained with a small shrug. “Left a message that had he known I was a pirate he wouldn’t have asked me out.”

“You’re kidding.” Benn asked with eyebrows raised and a disbelieving shake of his head, some people were so gutless. “I’m sorry-“

“Don’t apologise, Beck. Like I said he was cute, but not cute enough to cry over. I just wish I hadn’t wasted my time getting ready for it to go to waste.” You shrugged, smiling softly at Beck’s sympathy. “Have a good night. I’ll see you on the ship.”

As you moved to head in the direction of the ship you were swiftly caught by Benn’s hand and stopped. You looked up at your crewmate and let out a sigh to see him looking at you with a serious look. Truthfully you weren’t in any way hurt by what had happened. You’d mostly agreed to a date with someone else because you thought it would take your mind off of your feelings for the man in front of you. Now you hated that he looked upset on your behalf.“Beck, honestly I’m fine.”

“Fine or not you look too good to let it go to waste. C’mon you wanted a date, you’re getting a date.” Benn instructed, leading you back towards the town. When you opened your mouth to protest he grinned at you. “Don’t worry I’ll make sure you have fun.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” You huffed out with a smile, finally letting him lead you wherever he wanted. “Fine, I’m curious now to see how Benn Beckman operates on a date. Show me what you got Beck.”

“Oh that’s a tall order.” Benn laughed, adjusting his hand to lace his fingers with yours. “Y’see to really get the full experience it’ll take a lot more than a single date. Could take a long while.”

“That so?” You grinned walking side by side with him. “I’ve got the time.”

——————————————-

TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa, @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @deathsmajestysworld , @cloudysunset04 , @chillerkiller , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa , @dreamcastgirl99 , @my-name-is-heartache , @iamn1ya ,  @yunho-leeknow , @hinata7346 , @h0oouwlss , @missrandomdreamer , @sleepykittycx , @ddawn111 , @jaygrl22 , @sylum , @acehyacinth , @resident-cryptid , @treelogirl , @maellem , @its-a-dam-blue-brick , @thulhu , @appalost , @dindjarins1ut , @irumawife , @laidenbreecatchall , @redwolfxx , @jevoislesbrasdemer , @schanwow , @pao198391 , @glitchtricks94 , @nina-ya @48daisies , @rosemary-lungs

[miwiheroes]

Sternberg's Triangular Theory of Love + Stranger Things Couples

This is very different from my other posts on here, but I was inspired by @hawkinsschoolcounselor to make this. Just wanted to give this tag some of my own insight from a Psychology student's perspective, specifically talking about the Triangular Theory of Love (TTL) in relation to couples (whether they are platonic or romantic or not) on Stranger Things. I'm not here to say that the Duffer Brothers specifically took inspiration for their couples from this theoretical model, just that this is one of the many theoretical models of relationships that can be applied to how people view love. Therefore, a writer would have written real life people's experiences of love into the show.

(Just want to quickly add -- this theory was made in the 80s. The most common criticism of this model is that it is made on the basis of westernised ideals of love. It also does not take asexuality or aromanticism into account.)

First of all, an Introduction to the TTL:

Imagine yourself a triangle. Every triangle has three sides. Each side of this triangle is an essential component to love. It’s the combination of these elements that creates the different types of love we experience.

First, we have Intimacy, which isn't your classic physical intimacy that you know (e.g. hugging, kissing). It's basically the emotional side of love. Can you tell this person your deepest secrets? Can you trust them? Do you two have similar interests? Can you have a laugh? Intimacy is what makes us feel understood and accepted for who we are.

Next, is Passion, which is the fire, the spark, the physical attraction that ignites the magnetic pull between two people. The chemistry, the electricity, you could say. We feel this at the beginning of most relationships, that intense desire to be with someone, emotionally and physically.

Lastly is Commitment. This is the decision to stay, to continue even if something changes. This can be for various reasons like investments you've made in the relationship, the promises you've made to someone.

Each of these components are associated with a certain type of love.

Nonlove -- This relationship has neither intimacy, commitment, or passion. You are acquaintances with this person.

Liking -- This relationship has intimacy only. This is a friendship, without commitment or passion that a romantic relationship has.

Infatuation -- Only has passion. It's exciting, overwhelming, but there's no emotional connection, trust, or commitment.

Empty -- Only has commitment. The relationship is stable and safe, but has no real connection or passion that it may once have had or never had.

Companionate -- This relationship his intimacy and commitment, but it does not have passion. This could be a very close friend, or a couple that may be in love but do not have physical attraction to one another.

Romantic -- You are intimate with this person and have passion with them, but you are not yet committed. For example, a partner that you've been dating for a short time.

Fatuous -- The presence of passion and commitment, but without intimacy. For example, two people who barely know each other can get married super quick on a whim.

Consummate -- Is the 'ideal' love. This is the complete, balanced love we all strive for. It’s a mix of deep emotional connection, physical attraction, and a strong, lasting commitment.

So how does this relate to Stranger Things?

I do believe we can sort of apply these definitions of love to many different duos in ST, and see what this means for them in the future. Love can also be different on either side, for example, on side of the duo may see passion in their love, while the other side sees none.

BTW you may notice that I'm not going to include Byler or Mileven in this first list, I will diagnose them after all the other duos in the show. So scroll down if you want to only see them.

Nonlove

This would be a duo from ST that really has no interaction with each other. No commitment, no emotional connection, no physical connection. I guess we can just pick people who've barely had an interaction, like Steve and Will. Eddie and Hopper. Mike and Robin (not yet anyways).

Liking

E.g. Joyce and Murray, Mike and Lucas. Just friends, but they are friends enough that they have believable closeness and an understanding of one another. More examples include all the party's friendships with each other (except Mike and Will). I don't want to really dumb them down into not being committed toward each other, but we can see that they're not dependent on each other in a way that's got more emotional depth than some other platonic duos in the show.

Infatuation

The only notable one that I can think of here is Stancy, more specifically on Nancy's side. This means she only has passion with him, aka, physical attraction. She's not intimate with him (in this model's definition at least). This model's definition of intimate means sharing deep secrets and trusting each other. During S1, Nancy's reason for being with Steve was because he was popular and she was just excited to be with the most desire guy in high school. She didn't confide in him about her emotional turmoil, she didn't understand his decisions and he didn't understand hers. In S2, this is the same. The only time that she confronted him was when she was drunk, other times she didn't feel he understood her enough like Jonathan did.

She also wasn't committed to him, which makes sense, because she had a far more emotional intimacy with Jonathan.

Empty

The first one that comes to mind ^. Obviously, this isn't necessarily fully in line with the psychological definition of 'Empty love', because Karen is not fully committed to Ted in S2 or S3, but ultimately she does make the decision not to cheat on her husband because of her commitment to her family. They have no intimacy and no passion (Ted's bed is literally downstairs). This is one of those relationships where people don't even have to ask why they don't get a divorce -- because they're too committed, which is their downfall.

Companionate

I believe Steve and Robin are different to those friendships in the 'Liking' category. They have intimacy, because they confide in each other and understand each other on a deeper level. But they're also committed to each other in a way that the other platonic duos don't have. They go where the other goes -- (they always need to have the same job together), and other people already think they are a couple (based on heteronormativity but also because they're seen together so often). They obviously have no passion, because uh well, their physical attractions lie elsewhere.

Romantic

I couldn't think of anything that just fitted only intimacy and passion and no commitment, most of the couples on ST basically have commitment if they also have the other two.

Fatuous

Without intimacy, but only commitment and passion, this is a super rare kind of love, and probably not represented in Stranger Things. If anyone has any idea of what could be in this section, please let me know.

Consummate

The ideal love, with intimacy, passion and commitment, is luckily represented by most of the canon couples in Stranger Things. This is how you know that the writers are good at writing believable romances -- you don't need the characters to explicitly state that they are in love for you to know, because they have all three of the staples for an ideal love.

Jancy has intimacy because they can tell each other secrets and they understand each other's emotional traumas (Jonathan understands Nancy's trauma surrounding Barb, for example. As a wise man once said, they have shared trauma). The biggest reason why they definitely have this love to me, though, is because the moments that they have the most trouble in their relationship is when one of these sections breaks down. AKA -- intimacy was broken down in S3 when they 'don't understand each other' anymore, and they were able to come back from this, showing their commitment. Season 4 also shows their commitment, because while Nancy was being sweet talked to by Steve (ugh sorry), she still stayed committed to Jonathan, same on Jonathan's side. Despite being in a different state, he still made all his decisions based on her future as well as his, showing they were committed.

Jopper has intimacy because she feels that he understands her more than anyone -- he met her in high school and clearly have both shared memories and shared trauma. They trust each other with sensitive information about each other's lives, and are able to confide in each other when the other is going through something. The commitment is shown deeply in Season 4. Joyce's commitment is quite literally shown in almost crashing in a plane for him and trying to break him out of prison. Hopper's is the plan he makes to break out and go see her. Their passion well.... that is also shown in the way Hopper continues to pine for her in S3, giving her longing looks, but also in S4 because this desire has a pay off.

Okay so now we can talk about which categories Mileven and Byler fit into:

Mileven and Byler

Lets' start by looking at each of the three components:

Mileven's Intimacy:  In the beginning of Season 1, Mike has emotional understanding with El, but this is gone by the time Season 4 rolls around. She explicitly states to him "No. You don't." He also finds no time to express his insecurities about his relationship with her actually with her, instead choosing to confide in Will about his insecurities. On El's side, she chooses to lie to Mike about having a really hard time in California, because she does not have the intimacy with him to feel like she can confide in him. There is a reason for this, obviously, and that is because she feels insecure about their relationship. But instead of communicating that, she chooses to ignore it. When Mike finally chooses to tell El about his 'feelings', even if they are true, he is only spurred on by Will alone, not by his own desire to do it. Whenever Mike tries to actually tell El what he's feeling, he ends up trying to do it in other ways in order to avoid it. Their scenes where they're about to open up to each other are either interrupted or extremely frustrating.

Byler's Intimacy: Will has always chosen Mike to talk about his problems with. He says to him in the 'crazy together' scene that Mike can't tell the others because they won't understand, showing that they have a unique kind of intimacy. Will also chooses to confide only with Mike about his problem with D'art in S2, because the situation is slightly icky (because D'art was literally inside him ig) and trusts only Mike with this situation. This is the same as the situation at the end of S4, where Will knows it would be scary for anyone else to hear, but he's happy to tell Mike about Vecna being alive. Luckily, Mike is ready to jump into action at the drop of a hat in both situations. Mike's intimacy with Will is the sheer amount of heart-to-heart scenes they have in S4. He's always ready to tell Will about his relationship problems, but not El (and no, not just because she's in the lab). He's more comfortable around him than El. All Mike and El do is make out (in S3), have some slight banter, but they don't actually have any shared interests. Mike and Will both have the shared interest of all things nerdy, and Mike finds Will's artwork moving and amazing. Mike has been shown to have an appreciation for what Will creates.

Mileven's Passion: I guess it's slightly awkward to talk about this kind of stuff with either Mileven or Byler, because they are teenagers. But teenagers obviously experience physical attraction and desire. The reason we can see this desire is because they have a lot of build up. Jancy have desire because they've been kept from each other because of Steve and Nancy being together. Jopper have been kept from each other because of Joyce's relationship with Bob and her grief, then Hopper being kept in jail (though that's not to do with romance). Lumax have been kept from one another because of Max refusing to get help from others. There was no pining, desiring moment with Mileven. And I know what people might say: Season 2 and Season 3 had moments where they were kept from each other and it was shown that Mike wanted her back. Oh? You mean the Mike that gave up on calling her and focused on Will until El reappeared again? You mean the Mike that joked around with Lucas after El broke up with him and played himself as the victim? It's not the same, because it has no pay off like the others. The maybe-pay off is the 'passion' of them making out in S3, constantly getting interrupted by some funny old guy haha!. As Hopper said, too much passion is 'not normal, not healthy'. This passion has Mike pulling her hands away from him and is just presented as humour/puberty-ridden teens figuring themselves out. Idk man

Byler's Passion:  Ignoring the fact I feel so weird talking about this, let's just reiterate some of the points I brought up to you in the last paragraph. All other main couples in ST have had a moment of unambiguous pining. Jopper, Jancy and Lumax. This is also the case with Byler, clearly, from S4, Will's pining for Mike can be seen as him wanting something. Have you seen those longing looks, marked by sweet, pining music? Those scream attraction, even though some of you might be allergic to two teen boys showing attraction to each other but are totally fine with 13 year olds making out. Those are just Will's pining moments. I mean, I can talk at length about Mike's slip ups. The triple take? The amount of lip glances on this man? It's hard to say at the moment whether they have passion in this relationship, but the thing is. We don't need to have it right now. All we need to know is that there is potential for it, potential for an amazing pay off where Will confesses his feelings. And from the amount of pining Will's shown (and Mike in a lot of ways), there definitely is potential.

Mileven's commitment: So this is where they actually have something. But that's not necessarily a good thing. Mike is the first person that treats El well after being stuck in an abusive lab for the first 12 years of her life. He made a promise to her that he would take care of her, and they both stress that Friends Don't Lie. They don't want to lose each other. Mike tells Will and El that he doesn't want to lose her and wants her to need him. This is not the same as romantically loving somebody. Mike's feelings shift during S2 and S4, but his commitment to El overrides everything. El wants to break up with him because of various reasons, and says that he is her 'first boyfriend' during S3. But they still stay together despite the troubles in their relationship, showing that the commitment is not something they want but something they need in order to feel secure. We have established they have no intimacy, we have established they have no passion. So why do they stay together? Because of the security, or some other reason. We have seen that Mike doesn't love El during S4 because he describes 'explaining himself' to her, while also not knowing what to say when she spells it out for him. We have seen how Mike treats El poorly, and the other way around. They lie to each other, they don't confide in the other. But they stay together because... they've made a promise, a commitment. Mike says I love you because she's going to die and believes it's what she wants. Even if this commitment was supposed to be genuine and pure, it can't be worth rooting for without intimacy and passion.

Byler's commitment: Will states many times that he will always be Mike's friend, always need him, wants to be with him for the rest of his life, playing games in his basement. That is the most obvious sign of commitment I have ever seen. He is so committed that he is willing to sacrifice his own feelings in order to make Mike happy, effectively tying himself to his love forever. Mike is committed to Will in his own way. He is always the one to apologise and take the fall in their arguments, while with El he is not committed in that way. When Will is away from Mike, he's worried that he's lost him. Basically this means Mike is afraid that Will isn't as committed as he is to their friendship. It's funny because Will has the exact same worries during the Rink o Mania fight. But that's the irony. They are both committed. Mike's commitment despite the distance is shown through his fear of losing Will. Will's commitment to him despite the distance is through his painting. No matter what, Mike is always ready to be a team with Will and work with him. Even while they were supposed to be fighting, Mike confides in Will. And Will? A huge part of Will's arc is his undying commitment towards Mike, which makes his scenes with Mileven so upsetting -- because we know his love will never end, meaning his sadness won't end unless Mileven break up.

So what's the diagnosis?

Mileven: Empty Love (Only commitment to each other. There is no show of emotional understanding and connection. The passion and pining for each other is not shown like with other ST couples.)

Byler: Consummate Love (Has all three elements. Both have a mutual understanding to each other's needs, both have a mutual pining, even though it's much easier to see on Will's side. Both have a commitment to the other in their own way. All other popular ST couples have this love and would fit in with Byler's)

Im so scared to post this because it's so different from my other posts. But hopefully you see that even if Byler is not endgame, Mileven being endgame would not be a true show of 'love defeats all' -- because it is not a healthy love. 

[suzukiblu]

hi, question for you, have you ever experienced prolonged writer’s block before? do you happen to have any advice for getting a writing flow going again, that you’d be willing to share?

bc i don’t want to get too heavy in your asks, but between chronic illness/fatigue and longterm autistic burnout i haven’t been able to write a single word in several years now, and GOD am i tired of it. it’s like all the stories and words are stuck inside me and i can see it all in my head but the faucet is jammed and i just can’t get it OUT! i have been slowly feeling like the creative embers are maybe starting to spark again but it’s so hard not to get impatient with myself because it never seems to actually transfer to paper (or word document or notes app). any ideas or tips?

no pressure to answer this if you don’t want to of course, regardless i really enjoy your writing and i’m so glad that i can at least engage with fandom through other authors even when i can’t write my own stories! 💛

Oh god, yeah, I DEFINITELY have experienced that, hahasob. I have gone through at LEAST a year or two without, like, putting down a single word or even drawing anything, just total creative block/not there-ness. Like I feel u on that one, bud.

Good news: now if I write less than 2k in a day I think "oh that's kinda low, huh", so like . . . definitely "didn't write jack shit for [ INSERT TIME PERIOD HERE ]" has yet to sink me, and therefore fuck if it's gonna sink ANY of us. We persevere!!

So like, in my experience actually helpful writing advice is just SO wildly "you just gotta try shit 'til something works"-based that I'mma just give you a list made up of a bunch of, like, assorted tips and tricks that I use on myself to make my brain put words down when it's being stubborn about it, though different ones work at different times and obvi YMMV here anyway because for obvious reasons these are all approaches that I have tailored to my own needs, hah, and some of them are a bit facetious and some are also a bit heavy, but absolutely and unironically I reguarly use them all and they have all repeatedly worked for me.

Also, they're all gonna be goin' behind a cut because WOW there's actually a lot more of them than I realized I had, hahaha. The psychiatrist who recently used me as a case study told me I was very self-aware, so take from that what you will, friend.

Get up and do a chore/take a shower/eat a snack/literally just walk through a friggin' doorway, more often than not it'll at least make your brain reorient enough for you to realize you were just beating your head against a wall and need to do [ INSERT DAMAGE CONTROL/HARM REDUCTION BEHAVIOR HERE ].

Track your progress. Write to-do lists and cross shit off 'em. Keep track of your word count when you write; put it in a spreadsheet or a notebook or on a graph on your bulletin board.

Get a NEW way to track your progress. I currently use, like, three different "to-do list" apps to varying degrees in varying ways, not counting just my basic calendar app ( for the record: Finch, Structured, and just a generic notes app, but mostly Finch and Structured and seriously I CANNOT recommend Finch enough, go get yourself a bird buddy immediately. do you want a friend code, I will GIVE you a friend code, I think it gives you a bonus mini-pet or something if you use it. ), and also set myself MANY a phone alarm to remind myself of things that I need to do in case I space out or get distracted by somebody/something/the specific phase of the moon.

Did you take your meds? Take your fucking MEDS, self, good LORD.

Leave the house even if for literally, like, thirty seconds to just stand in some actual natural light. Or leave the house to go eat at a cafe or library or fast food place and just put yourself in a new environment for literally any length of time whatsoever.

Switch pens. Switch notebooks. Get a NEW notebook. Use your laptop instead. Use your PHONE instead. Get a nicer notebook. Get a shittier notebook. Use the scratch paper at work. Use the Procreate app on your friggin' iPad if you gotta, whatever, you do what you want!!

Don't write!!

Seriously just don't, go watch an actual scripted TV show or movie or read a book or a comic or some fic. Feed your brain something you didn't have to make up yourself.

Come up with a convoluted way to trick yourself into being accountable to someone else. Join a writing group. Make a Tumblr post about how you're gonna go write now. Ask Tumblr for their opinion on what you should write now. Ask Tumblr to spin this random wheel spinner game you generated and tell you what answer they got, and then write THAT.

HAVE you had a snack? Did you eat breakfast? Did you eat lunch? Did you remember to move around the house at any point whatsoever during the day? Maybe like, do that. Like, at least the snack part. Maybe a stretch or something wouldn't hurt either though.

Meal prep is so fucking useful and saves you SO much annoying time and also, like, makes you eat actual veggies and fruit and shit, genuinely actually works, the gym bros were not wrong, go figure. Also then you don't have to think about what you're gonna eat all the time and then cook it and then clean up and then--yeah anyway meal prep, god bless it. Once a week I make a batch of pasta salad and roast a pan of good-when-roasted veggies with like, garlic and salt and pepper and some olive oil and add bacon after, and then I portion it all into tupperware and in the morning I add spinach or crack an egg into that day's share of veggies for breakfast and maybe make some toast, and just grab one of the pasta salads whenever I want something lunch-like. It saves SO much time and distraction when you are hurting for free time/focus. So, SO much.

Unfortunately the gym bros were also correct about exercise, if that's doable for you. Exercise does in fact make you feel better and more energized and less depressed, fuck those guys for being right about that shit. Assuming you have enough iron in your blood to actually, like, do it, which admittedly I frequently do not, but the point stands.

Dude why are you even trying to write, you're so tired, go to bed and get up early, you write SO much better in the mornings anyway.

Hey, I know that's how you USED to write, but like, is that actually how you write right now? Is that actually even what works for you anymore? Actually maybe outlines COULD be helpful or maybe you don't need all those worldbuilding notes all at once; maybe your inner architect needs to let the building decay and go back to nature or maybe your inner gardener has developed a taste for trellises, metaphorically speaking and all.

Please eat something. Also please DRINK something. Like ideally water but we'll go for anything that involves a liquid, seriously.

Hey did you know actually if you ONLY eat instant ramen and microwave pizza you'll probably get scurvy and die instead of, like, writing your magnum opus? Like probably?? Put a fucking egg in that ramen, man! Slice up a scallion in that bitch!! EAT AN ACTUAL WHOLE FRUIT or at least, like, buy a smoothie with actual fruit involved somewhere in it on occasional. The whole fruit, unfortunately, is better. I like apples. Apples take a REAL long time to rot if I forget they exist for a couple weeks or whatever. But like, mango smoothies are also the shit, can't turn down a mango smoothie or a good strawberry-banana. Hey did you know the grocery store just, like, will let you just buy one single apple and they don't give a fuck? You're free! The cashier won't remember you in five minutes!! Buy your one single apple and work your way up to maybe two apples next time!! Also now I want an apple!!!!

Don't write. Don't write THAT. Write the other thing. No, the OTHER other thing. No, not THAT other other thing.

The rules are made up and the points don't matter.

Fuck it, we ball.

[ INSERT FULL-THROTTLE STIMMING BEHAVIOR HERE ]

Only God can judge me and I'm still technically agnostic.

God, that's the weirdest fucking idea you've ever had, literally NO ONE but you would read it. So you should write 180k of it and also make it even weirder and yes it will absolutely be the one fic that just about everyone in MCU fandom who knows you exist knows you for, don't even worry about it, this isn't based on a true story at all.

Actually you could probably storyboard this scene to figure out wtf is happening here. Or like just draw literally anything related to this story, a bit of that might work some kinks out of the whole process.

Did you get that snack yet?

Hey go pet your dog, she's very soft and wants attention and also her OWN snack. Pet your dog and eat an apple and idk watch some anime or a weird niche documentary or an even more niche reality show, have you seen Deep-Fried Dynasty yet, it's on Hulu and was surprisingly engrossing.

Why are you even following the rules, we've been over this, they are made up and the points do NOT matter, and also you're not even getting graded for this anyway.

Yeah okay that thing you wrote sucked, but it turns out that Dean Koontz somehow has a writing career and also Twilight happened to all of us, so actually even the suckiest thing you ever write is gonna be better than the perfect ideal of the scene in your head, because the suckiest thing you ever write is something OTHER people can READ. And again: Dean Koontz has a career. Colleen HOOVER has a career. And fucking good for them, they're killing it, they are fucking WRITING!! Who gives a damn anyway, fix it in editing if you're that worried about it, they call it a rough draft for a reason.

Hey if that thing doesn't work you can just, like, delete it. Or rewrite it. Or stick it in your back pocket and do something else for a while. The sunk-cost fallacy is bullshit and you don't have to listen to it.

Maybe drink some more caffeine, that'll calm you down. [ DISCLAIMER: THIS PIECE OF ADVICE TAILORED TO A PERSON WITH MORE ADHD THAN LITERALLY NINETY-FIVE PERCENT OF PEOPLE WHO HAVE BEEN DIAGNOSED WITH ADHD; THAT PERCENTAGE IS ON THE ACTUAL LEGITIMATE DIAGNOSTIC PAPERWORK ]

Seriously you can just write anything you want, nobody can stop you. Only God can judge me and I'm still technically agnostic enough that that's like, thirty-seventy odds at BEST.

God that idea is so niche and weird and niche, better tone it the fuck down to--oh wait no mass appeal means you're writing popcorn and literally no one will remember it in five minutes anyway, stop reflexively censoring yourself for some imaginary audience that will just chew straight through your one-size-fits-all story for The Content(tm) and then immediately move onto the next one without even bothering to hit "kudos" or remember anything about it later. I have written shit so weird that people still remember how weird I was TWENTY-FIVE YEARS LATER, man, and that is why literally anyone will EVER remember that you exist or wanna read your stuff or follow you to a new fandom where they don't even know the source material, fuck it, they'll wiki some shit. And also who cares anyway, it's YOUR stuff and YOU wanna read it. Your agnostically-possible god did not make you this weird and niche for no reason, don't pussy out now!!

Actually you can just write in the bath/on the bus/while waiting for your roommate to finish up with the guy running this estate sale. You've got your phone, right? Fuck it, pack a notebook. Pack an extra notebook. Pack a smaller notebook. Pack a BIGGER notebook.

It's not stupid if it works. You don't have to do what literally ANYONE else is doing, you just have to do what works.

You can literally just skip to the good part and write that, actually. Nobody's gonna throw you in writer-jail. What are we, cops?? Actually do you even need this lead-up here or do you just need to write this one specific blorbo gettin' laid REAL enthusiastically kinkily and/or maybe having a nervous breakdown sobfest over their perception of their personal self-worth and everything else is kinda just window dressing??

I mentioned the snack thing, right? Also sugar rushes are fake but sugar CRASHES are real so maybe be a little careful on that one, maybe buy some trail mix/jerky/smoked salmon, smoked salmon is SO good, smoked salmon is just objectively delicious.

Go talk somebody's ear off about what you're trying to write about. Bonus points if you can find somebody who matches your freak enough that you write, uhhhhh /checks smudged writing on wrist/ a 60k Overwatch fic in two weeks and also like 280k of Witcher fic in less than a year specifically because they're just a real good cheerleader. Wow. Wow that was a lot more Witcher fic than I was aware I had written. THE POINT IS LOOK FOR A WRITING BUDDY, WRITING BUDDIES ARE THE SHIT.

If the writing buddy doesn't work out though the first time I won NaNoWriMo I did it directly out of spite because someone said they didn't think I actually would. So like, spite is always an option, you can always keep that one on tap if you gotta.

Stephen King did not write "On Writing" because he didn't want you to write. Francesca Lia Block did not introduce you to the weirdest and gayest shit teenage!you had ever read so you'd grow up and be a fucking NORMIE about this shit. SIR TERRY PRATCHETT DID NOT WRITE LIKE SIXTEEN OF YOUR FAVORITE BOOKS OF ALL TIME BECAUSE HE DID NOT WANT YOU TO WRITE WHAT YOU WERE ACTUALLY FRICKIN' INTO.

Clean your room. No, better than that. Okay fuck it just set a ten-minute timer and do what you can in that time, we work with the spoons we've got.

Random number generator. Random color generator. Random "hey followers here's a very oblique poll, don't even worry about what it's about, just click a button please and thank you".

Did you know the internet will just GIVE you free graphs/trackers/bullet journal page designs and you can just print 'em out and do whatever the heck you want with 'em?? Yes my new little "color in the squares every day you do the thing" tracker IS just six daily writing tasks and two daily "just go pick some stuff up in this specific room" tasks and that is MY BUSINESS, MS. SIR AND MR. MADAM AND MX. [ INSERT BUZZER SOUND ]. And also, like, has done much better at getting me to do chores than anything else has in a minute, go fig.

You can actually just do whatever you want forever.

Literally, like just forever.

Fuck, how many times HAVE you done this? You'll never get better for good, it'll always go bad again, you'll always get sick again, you'll always get SAD again, you'll always fucking forget how to even DO this again and have to start all over.

Well yes, obviously, because you'll always have done it again. So do it again. One more time.

( seriously though did you take your meds-- )

[ineffable-doll]

Tips on adding tags to fics

I wrote a guide last year about writing fanfic summaries (check it out here) and thought it might be useful to do a follow-up on tags! (Please note that this is AO3-specific and focuses entirely on the Additional Tags section. And also that all of this is just my opinion.)

I see folks often lament that they don’t know what tags to add to their fics; I think the biggest struggle comes from folks not knowing what purposes tags serve. So, let’s discuss that!

Convey Tone

The first thing tags are used for is to tell the audience what tone to expect from the fic. Is it a lighthearted comedy with some sweet moments? Tag it with Fluff, Humor, and Comedy. Is it a dark, slow, depressing tale that ends poorly? Try Heavy Angst, Sad, Bad Ending.

When looking for a fic to read, people want to know what the vibe is so they can find the fic that matches what they’re in the mood for. The summary is useful for this, too, but the tags are where you can really confirm: Yes, this is a fic with Light Angst, Humor, and Happy Ending.

In short: use tags as tone indicators. Not all fics cleanly fit one tone or the other, so overlap tags accordingly. It’s normal to have some contradiction; that’s the nature of storytelling.

Some common tone indicator tags:

Fluff

Tooth-Rotting Fluff

Domestic Fluff

Romantic Fluff

Light-Hearted

Crack

Crack Taken Seriously

Hurt/Comfort

Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Comfort No Hurt

Hurt No Comfort

Humor

Some Humor

No Plot/Plotless

Light Angst

Angst

Heavy Angst

Angst With a Happy Ending

Eventual Happy Ending

Sad Ending

Bad Ending

Happy Ending

Hopeful Ending

Ambiguous/Open Ending

…and more!

2. Content Warnings

Next, tags are a great place to add content warnings for your fic. Notes can go into more detail or be used for chapter-level warnings, but putting the broad categories of your content warnings in the tags is a good idea so those who wish to avoid certain types of content can do so, and those specifically seeking out heavy content can find what they’re looking for.

AO3 has the Archive Warnings function to help with this, but tags can elaborate on or specify warnings that don’t fit the Archive Warning categories.

Not everyone likes content warnings or sees the point of adding them, or they feel that they ruin the surprise element of storytelling. I won’t make a detailed argument here, but consider content warnings a sign of respect for your audience and their wellbeing. Triggers are very real things rooted in trauma and the least you can do is give someone a heads up that what you wrote could negatively affect them. Plus, as mentioned, sometimes darker content is exactly the thing someone wants, and a warning can actually be another way to attract a reader.

A very very short list of content warning tags to consider (and here’s your own heads up for mentions of upsetting topics in this list):

Death

Grief/Mourning

Violence

Canon-Typical Violence

Torture

Blood

Abuse

Alcohol

Drugs

Rape/Non-con Elements

Mentions of Rape/Non-con

Consent Issues

Mental Health Issues (there are lots of more specific tags for this category)

Panic Attacks

Ableist Language

…and more!

(There is definitely more that could be said regarding content warnings for Explicit fics, but I don’t read or write those, so you’ll need to look elsewhere for that.)

3. Searchable/Fandom-Specific

One of the most useful aspects of tags is being able to search the entire Archive via tags and/or filter content by tags (both to include and exclude – familiarize yourself with AO3’s Filter system if you haven’t already). So, you’ll want to include tags that folks are searching by. Tone indicator tags are used this way, but so are fandom-specific, character-specific, and relationship-specific tags.

If you have no idea where to start, look up the fandom/character/relationship you are writing for and filter AO3 by that. Then, spend some time looking at tags and filtering by different ones. See what comes up. Reading fic is always the best way to learn how to tag them, and that’s especially the case here. Maybe you’ll end up creating a new fandom tag!

While fandom-specific tags are not necessary, they can help make your fic easier to find, especially in large fandoms. Note that fandom-specific tags will usually have the fandom listed in parentheses at the end.

It’s difficult to make a list of tags for this sort of thing, but here’s some common structures I’ve seen over the years:

[Character Name] Needs a Hug

Asexual/Aromantic/Demisexual (etc.) [Character Name]

Oblivious [Character Name]

Dramatic [Character Name]

Sweet [Character Name]

Angry [Character Name]

Disabled [Character Name]

Autistic [Character Name]

Agender/Nonbinary/Trans [Character Name]

[Character Name] Has Anxiety/ADHD/Tourette’s etc.

Ambiguous [Character Name] and [Character Name] Relationship

Queerplatonic [Character Name] / [Character Name]

They/Them Pronouns for [Character Name]

Teacher/Superhero/Artist/other profession [Character Name]

[Character Name]-centric

Touch-Starved [Character Name]

[Character Name] is Bad at Feelings

[Character Name] Has Self-Esteem Issues

…and more!

Another category is tags for specific scenes, missing scenes, story arcs, episodes/chapters/parts, and so on, such as:

The Night at Crowley’s Flat (Good Omens)

Cloud Recesses Study Arc (Modao Zushi)

Post-Mogami Arc (Mob Psycho 100)

And there are plenty more that are so fandom-specific that they don’t fit an exact category:

Alternate Universe – No System (Scum Villain)

Heaven is Terrible (Good Omens)

Xianle Trio (Tian Guan Ci Fu)

4. BONUS Topic – Canon Divergence and Alternate Universes

One of the most fun parts of fanfic is toying with canon, so here’s a list of tags that can convey your fic’s relationship to the canon story. These are for fics that maintain a strong relationship with or resemblance to canon.

Pre-Canon

During Canon

Post-Canon

Canon Compliant

Not Canon Compliant

Alternate Universe – Canon Divergence

Alternate Canon

Fix-It

Not a Fix-It

Fix-It of Sorts

Some fandoms have specific tags regarding canon compliance with only parts of the given media – usually the case for franchises or works with big gaps between installments.

Not Canon Compliant With [Media Name] [Season/Episode Number]

Next are Alternate Universes (AUs), which are so divergent from canon to the point of not even being in the same world. There are more types of AU than I could dare list here, and several are also fandom-specific, but here’s some generic sorts that come to mind:

Modern Setting

Human

High School

College/University

Roommates/Housemates

Soulmates

Superheroes/Superpowers

Fairy Tale

Urban Fantasy

Science Fiction & Fantasy

Meet-Cute (can also be Alternative Universe – Different First Meeting)

Meet-Ugly

…and more!

5. BONUS BONUS Topic – Romance

Lots of fics on AO3 are written for romantic ships, and there are a LOT of tags to categorize different types and stages of these ships. These tags are useful to establish reader expectations (and again, for filtering). Some common examples:

Pre-Slash

Pre-Relationship

Developing Relationship

Established Relationship

Love Confessions

Love Realization

Drunken Confessions

Mutual Pining

Not Actually Unrequited Love

Getting Together

Getting Back Together

Moving In Together

Falling in Love

Marriage

[Friends/Enemies/Strangers/Rivals/etc.] to Lovers (can also have three stages, such as Strangers to Friends to Lovers or Lovers to Enemies to Friends)

Flirting

Slow Burn

Denial of Feelings

…and more!

There are also tags to specify what physical affection the characters engage in:

Holding Hands

Cuddling & Snuggling

Hugs

Kissing

Making Out

Almost Kiss

First Kiss

Second Kiss

Literal Sleeping Together

Non-Sexual Intimacy

No Smut

Explicit Sexual Content

Implied/Referenced Sex

…and more!

Aaaand a few non-romantic ones to toss around, for fun:

Best Friends

Platonic Relationships

Friendship

No Romantic Relationships (goes under the Relationships section, not Additional Tags)

Found Family

Friendship/Love

Ambiguous Relationships

Queerplatonic Relationships

Family

Parenthood

Love

Siblings

Developing Friendships

Parent/Child Relationship

…and more!

This guide got out of hand, and I still didn’t cover everything I could have, but I hope this was a helpful overview and makes tagging a little easier for you going forward! Here’s AO3’s tagging page for more info. Feel free to drop your own tips in a reblog/comment or ask questions if there’s something you want me to elaborate on. <3

[lunaswicked]

Sweet Talk

Paring: College!Jimmy Uso x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5k

Summary: Two roommates— You and Jimmy—find yourselves caught in a whirlwind of tension, desire, and unspoken feelings. What begins as teasing and frustration between you evolves into a night of unexpected intimacy that blurs the lines between hate and attraction.

Tags: enemies to smutville😫, roommates, 18+, p in v, teasing, dirty talking, 9 incher jimmy uso, dickstressing, AND WHATEVER ELSE, ENJOY😋

You and Jimmy rarely saw eye to eye. It wasn’t that you outright despised each other, but the two of you had a way of constantly butting heads over the smallest things. Maybe it was because you were both stubborn, or maybe it was because neither of you ever backed down from an argument. Either way, there was always a tension between you—one that never seemed to fade no matter how much time passed.  

Both of you were college students, navigating your own paths, yet your lifestyles couldn’t have been more different. You poured yourself into your studies, determined to excel in every class, while Jimmy had an almost single-minded obsession with football—both playing it and watching it. If he wasn’t on the field, he was glued to the screen, yelling at players who couldn’t hear him or analyzing plays with the kind of intensity most people reserved for final exams.  

When he wasn’t fixated on football, he’d be locked in his room, spending hours on whatever video game he and his twin brother, Jey, were obsessed with that month. It was almost impossible to get a word in when he was deep in competition mode, his focus unwavering as he trash-talked through his headset. Sometimes, it felt like college itself was just a background noise in his life, something he did because he had to—not because he cared.  

But despite all of that, you knew Jimmy was smart. In fact, he was one of the smartest people you knew, even if he didn’t always act like it. He had a sharp mind, a quick wit, and an ability to break things down in a way that made even the most complicated subjects seem simple. The problem was, hardly anyone ever got to see that side of him. He didn’t apply himself the way he could have, and more often than not, he played the role of the carefree guy who only lived for football and video games.  

"I'm not going. I got lab tomorrow," you said into your phone, shifting against the pillows as you tucked yourself deeper into bed.  

Bianca groaned dramatically on the other end. "Girl, you always busy! Every time I call, it's the same thing—lab this, assignment that. And don’t even get me started on how you be stuck in that house with Jimmy all the damn time."  

You rolled your eyes, even though she couldn’t see you. "First of all, I am not stuck with Jimmy. We just happen to live in the same space. Not like I have a choice."  

"Uh-huh, sure. And yet, every time I ask you to come out, you got an excuse, and he's always somewhere in the background, being annoying," Bianca shot back. "One day, imma just pull up and kidnap you, no warning."  

You laughed, shaking your head. "And do what? Drag me out in my pajamas? Not happening."  

"Don’t test me. I’ll snatch you right up, bonnet and all," she teased. "Seriously, though. You need a break. When’s the last time you had fun? Like, actual fun. Not school, not arguing with Jimmy—fun."  

You hesitated, chewing on your lip. It had been a while since you let loose, but between school, deadlines, and dealing with Jimmy’s daily antics, going out just felt like another task on your already overflowing to-do list.  

"Exactly," Bianca said, as if she could hear your thoughts through the phone. "Look, just think about it. Even geniuses like you need a night off."  

You sighed, glancing toward your closed bedroom door, where you could still faintly hear Jimmy and Jey shouting at their game. "I’ll think about it."  

"That’s what you said last time," Bianca huffed. "I ain't falling for it again. You better show up, or I will come get you."  

You smiled, shaking your head. "We’ll see, B. We’ll see."  

She let out an exaggerated groan but didn’t push it further. "Fine, but don’t think I’m letting this go. I’ll call you tomorrow, and you better give me a yes."  

"Goodnight, Bianca," you said, smirking.  

"Mmhm, whatever. Goodnight, miss I got lab."  

You hung up, staring at the ceiling with a small smile. Maybe she had a point.

Your stomach let out an impatient grumble, loud enough to make you sigh in frustration. You hadn’t eaten in hours, and at this point, there was only one thing that could fix it—a slice of your favorite vanilla cake with extra whipped cream. The thought alone was enough to get you out of bed, pushing aside your tiredness as you made your way down the hall toward the kitchen.

The house was quieter than usual, with only the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant noise of the TV from the living room. Normally, Jimmy would be in there, glued to whatever game had his attention for the night, but the lack of his usual shouting made you pause. Maybe he had finally gone to bed for once? That would be a miracle.

But as soon as you stepped into the kitchen, that hope vanished.

Standing by the open fridge, fork in hand, was Jimmy—mid-bite, chewing your cake like he didn’t have a single care in the world. Wearing a fitted black shirt with yellow shorts that showed too much thigh.

You stopped dead in your tracks, your brain needing an extra second to process the sheer disrespect of what you were witnessing.

"You gotta to be fucking wit' me," you said, your voice flat.

Jimmy turned his head slowly, fork still in his mouth, his expression completely unbothered. He raised an eyebrow as he chewed, finally swallowing before answering. "What?"

Your arms crossed tightly over your chest as you stared him down. "That was my cake, Jimmy."

He had the nerve to glance down at the plate in his hand, then back up at you with a smirk. "You sure about that?"

You let out an exasperated breath, stepping closer. "Yes, I’m sure. I’ve been thinking about that cake all damn day. It was the last slice!"

Jimmy shrugged, taking another slow, deliberate bite, as if to rub it in. "Was the last slice. Past tense."

Your jaw dropped. "You are actually the worst person I know."

He chuckled, licking a bit of whipped cream off his fork. "Damn. All this over some cake?"

You threw up your hands. "Jimmy, I needed that cake."

"You needed it?" he repeated, clearly amused. "You make it sound like life or death."

"It is!" you shot back. "I’ve had a long day, and all I wanted was to sit down, enjoy my damn cake, and go to bed happy. But noooo, because somebody just had to be greedy."

Jimmy leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, looking entirely too entertained. "Sounds like a you problem. You shoulda got here faster or sum."

"Or you could’ve just not eaten something that wasn’t yours," you snapped.

He shrugged again. "You ain't put yo name on it."

Your eye twitched. "We don’t do that in this house, Jimmy. Because normal people have respect."

Jimmy let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes as he scooped up a piece of cake with his fork. Slowly, deliberately, he strolled toward you, a smug smirk playing on his lips.  

“Here,” he said, holding the fork out in front of you, the fluffy vanilla cake and whipped cream practically taunting you. “You wanna bite?”  

Your arms folded over your chest, and you scoffed, giving him a sharp glare. “I’d rather die before I eat off of you,” you shot back, your voice dripping with defiance.  

Jimmy chuckled, tilting his head as he took another step closer. “Dramatic much?” he teased.  

You held your ground, eyes locked onto his, but the way he was staring at you—intense, playful, like he was daring you—sent a strange shiver down your spine. 

He took another step, closing the space between you, his free hand lazily slipping into the pocket of his shorts. He was close now, too close. You could smell the faint mix of his cologne and the sweet vanilla lingering on his breath.  

“What’s wrong?” he murmured, voice low, taunting. “Scared you’ll like it?”  

Your stomach tightened, but you forced yourself to scoff again, turning your head to the side. “Please, as if.”  

Jimmy let out a soft chuckle, lifting the fork slightly. “Then prove it.”  

You swallowed, glancing at the fork, then back at him. His eyes held something unreadable—dark amusement, challenge. You could feel your own stubbornness warring with the stupid, undeniable craving in your stomach.  

Your eyes flicked back to the cake, the whipped cream looking way too good to pass up.  

He smirked, sensing your hesitation. “C’mon, I ain't got all night,” he murmured, voice smooth, teasing.  

You clenched your jaw, irritation flaring, but your hunger was stronger than your pride. Damn it.  

With an exasperated sigh, you snatched his wrist, steadying his hand as you leaned in. You hesitated for half a second before finally parting your lips and taking the bite off the fork, your tongue barely brushing against the metal.  

Jimmy stilled.  

Your eyes flicked up to his as you pulled away, chewing slowly, the sweet vanilla and cream melting on your tongue.  

For a moment, neither of you spoke.  

His expression darkened just slightly, his smirk fading into something slower, heavier. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips as he stared at you, watching the way your lips closed around the fork before you finally pulled back.  

Something about the look in his eyes sent a heat crawling up your neck, your stomach twisting in a way that had nothing to do with the cake.  

You swallowed, shifting on your feet. “Happy now?” you muttered.  

Jimmy’s smirk returned, slow and knowing. He tilted his head, his voice dropping an octave.  

“Could’ve just said you wanted a taste,” he murmured.  

Your breath hitched, but you quickly covered it with an eye roll, shoving his wrist away as you stepped back.  

“Shut up, Jimmy.”  

He let out a low chuckle, his smirk never fading as he twirled the fork between his fingers. His eyes stayed locked on yours, dark amusement mixed with something else—something heavier, something that made your pulse tick faster than it should have.  

"You act like you hate me," he murmured, stepping just a fraction closer, his body heat now palpable. "But here you go, eatin' off my fork."  

Your throat felt dry, but you forced yourself to roll your eyes. "I was starving, Jimmy. Don’t flatter yourself."  

He tilted his head slightly, eyes flickering between your lips and your gaze, his smirk deepening. "Mmm, nah. I think you just wanted to see what I taste like."  

Your breath caught, heart slamming against your ribs.  

"You are so full of yourself," you muttered, stepping back, but you barely moved an inch before he closed the gap again, this time with purpose.  

The air shifted—suffocating, electric. You could hear the faint drip of the kitchen sink, the hum of the refrigerator, but it all faded beneath the way Jimmy was watching you. Like he had all the time in the world to unravel you piece by piece.  

"You sure about that?" he murmured, voice low, velvety smooth.  

His free hand brushed against your hip—not fully touching, just ghosting over the fabric of your shorts, enough to send a shiver through you.  

You should have stepped away. Should have said something cutting, something to kill whatever this was. But your body wasn’t listening.  

Jimmy noticed.  

His smirk flickered into something darker, his fingers grazing up your waist, featherlight, testing, waiting for you to stop him.  

You didn’t.  

A slow, knowing hum left his lips. “Thought so,” he murmured, voice dropping even lower.  

Your breath came a little quicker, your skin tingling beneath his touch. Your body was betraying you, leaning into the heat of him.

His fingers finally landed on your chin, tilting it up slightly, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes were unreadable—dangerous, teasing, but there was something else simmering beneath them. Something that sent your stomach twisting in the worst, best way.  

"You wanna taste somethin' sweet?" he murmured, his thumb barely brushing over your bottom lip. "I can give you more than just cake."  

Your breath hitched, fingers tightening at your sides.  

You just stood there. Frozen. Trapped under his gaze.  

Jimmy leaned in, slow enough for you to stop him, to push him away, but you didn’t. The warmth of his breath ghosted over your lips, his presence consuming every inch of space between you.  

Every nerve was alight, your breath coming shallow and uneven as Jimmy inched closer, the space between you shrinking to nothing. The scent of vanilla and his cologne wrapped around you, thick and intoxicating.  

"You gonna stop me?" he murmured, his lips barely brushing against yours as he spoke, his voice low, teasing.  

You should’ve. But you didn’t move. You couldn’t.  

His thumb dragged over your bottom lip, slow, deliberate, like he was testing you, waiting for any sign of resistance. When he found none, his smirk deepened, and then—  

His lips brushed yours.  

Not a full kiss, just a whisper of contact, enough to send a sharp jolt straight through you. Your breath hitched, and Jimmy noticed.  

"You’re shaking," he murmured, his free hand sliding up your side, fingers grazing your ribs, your waist—barely there, but enough to make your skin erupt in goosebumps.  

"I’m n-" You swallowed hard, but the words died in your throat.  

He took advantage of your hesitation, closing the distance entirely. His lips pressed against yours, slow at first, testing, teasing. His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you closer, his body heat seeping into you, his hand tracing up your spine like he wanted to memorize every inch of you.  

The moment you responded, the moment you gave in and let your lips move against his, it was over.  

Jimmy deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping over your bottom lip before slipping past, claiming your mouth like he had every right to. His grip turned possessive, his fingers digging into your waist as he pressed you back against the counter.  

You let out a soft gasp against his mouth, and he groaned in response, swallowing the sound like it belonged to him.  

"You taste better than that damn cake," he muttered against your lips, nipping at your bottom lip just hard enough to make your stomach flip.  

A shiver ran through you, and your fingers instinctively gripped the front of his shirt, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping you upright.  

"Jimmy, we cant—" you breathed, but it came out weak, needy, nothing like the warning you meant for it to be.  

"Shhh," he murmured, his lips trailing from your mouth to your jaw, then lower, grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear. "I got you, baby."  

The nickname sent a new wave of heat through you, your body arching into him before you could think twice about it. His hands slid lower, fingers pressing into your hips, gripping you like he had no intention of letting go.  

"You still wanna act like you hate me?" he whispered against your skin, his breath hot, his voice dripping with amusement and something deeper.  

You should’ve said yes. Should’ve pushed him away. Should’ve told him this was wrong.  

But the only thing that left your lips was a soft, breathless whimper.  

Jimmy chuckled, dark and knowing.  

"Yeah," he muttered, his teeth grazing your skin before he kissed you again, slower this time, deeper. "That’s what I thought."

You knew it was a bad idea, knew you were crossing a line that could never be uncrossed, but still, you couldn’t stop. The feel of his lips against yours, the way he held you close, the pressure of his body pressing against yours—everything felt too good to resist.

You’d always found ways to make excuses, to stay just out of reach. The random times you’d bug him when you needed something opened, pretending it was just too difficult for you to handle on your own. You'd act annoyed, making a big show of how "helpless" you were, even though it was never actually hard. It was just an excuse, a reason to get him close to you. He’d always tease you about it, calling you out on how dramatic you were, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes when he did, something you’d always ignored or tried to explain away. 

Then there were the times he’d bring girls over, just to sit around in the living room, loud and carefree, as if they didn’t matter to him. The jealousy it stirred inside you was a dangerous thing. You’d play it cool, roll your eyes and pretend you didn’t care. But you did. You cared so much that it burned. It wasn’t about them, not really. It was the way he’d be with them—too casual, too friendly, not even a hint of what he shared with you. He’d stay in the living room with them for hours, laughing, talking like you weren’t there, almost like he was flaunting it. 

Every time he brought a girl around, he’d still somehow find ways to be around you. He wouldn’t let you slip away completely, not with the way he’d casually touch your arm when passing by, or the way his eyes would seek you out in a room full of people. It was almost like he wanted you to be jealous, wanted to see that spark of emotion flash in your eyes when he paid attention to someone else. But he never made a move on them. Not really. You had to wonder if he was testing you, pushing your boundaries to see how far you'd go. Or maybe, in some twisted way, he was giving you the space to make a move of your own. 

Now, there was no going back. 

His lips pulled away just long enough for you to catch your breath, his forehead resting against yours as you both tried to steady your racing hearts. His fingers were still tangled in your hair, and his other hand had drifted to your lower back, pulling you closer into him. You could feel the heat of him through the thin fabric of your clothes. You could feel everything.  

“You know this is crazy, right?” you whispered, your voice shaky, unsure if you were asking him or telling yourself. 

His eyes met yours again, dark and intense, and he gave a small, crooked grin. “Yeah,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your lip again. “Maybe it’s what we need, ma.”

That was the problem. It wasn’t just about him. It wasn’t just about you. It was about both of you. And maybe you both had always known this would happen. Maybe you both had been waiting for the other to make the first move.

His hand slid up beneath your oversized tee, fingers trailing against your bare skin, igniting a trail of heat in their wake. Your breath hitched, your body reacting to his touch before your mind could catch up. And god—he looked so damn good in those glasses. He rarely wore them, but when he did, it did something to you, something dangerous. It wasn’t just the way they framed his sharp features, or the way they made him look even more intense. It was the way they added to that quiet, confident arrogance of his—the way he knew exactly how they affected you.

Your lips parted, and without even thinking, you bit down on your bottom lip, trying to contain the rush of anticipation flooding through you. His eyes darkened at the sight, his pupils dilating with hunger. A low, guttural moan rumbled from his chest, deep and intoxicating, sending a shiver down your spine.

Before you could process it, he moved—swift, effortless, like he’d done it a thousand times before. His strong hands gripped your thighs, lifting you with no effort at all. You gasped, your arms instinctively wrapping around his shoulders as he set you down onto the cool marble countertop. 

He didn’t hesitate. His lips crashed into yours again, hungrier this time, more demanding. His hands gripped your ass firmly, pulling you flush against him, and you could feel every hard line of his body pressing into you. Your fingers tangled into his hair, tugging just enough to earn another groan from him, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours.

“Fuck,” Jimmy mumbled against your lips, his voice thick with something between frustration and need. His hands roamed your sides, fingers digging into your skin like he was trying to ground himself. Your breaths mingled, heavy and uneven, as your hands moved instinctively to the hem of your shorts, pushing them down until they slipped off your legs and pooled onto the floor.

It had been over a year—too long since anyone had touched you like this. And yet, a single kiss from the one man you swore you couldn’t stand had you wetter than anyone ever had. It didn’t make sense. It was crazy. But you didn’t care.

Jimmy broke the kiss, his gaze trailing down your body until it settled on your yellow lace thong. The way his jaw clenched, the way his eyes darkened—it sent a rush of heat straight through you. You didn’t even have to look down to know how hard he was. His breathing was labored, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he undid his pants, never once breaking eye contact.

“You hate me for real, huh?” His voice was low, teasing, but thick with something deeper, something desperate.

Your eyes locked onto his, and you forced out a soft, defiant, “Mhm.” But it came out as a whimper, betraying the war raging inside you.

His smirk was slow, knowing. “Yeah?”

Before you could say anything else, his pants and boxers hit the floor, and your breath hitched.

Your pulse pounded in your ears, your fingers twitching against the countertop as anticipation curled low in your stomach.

And that’s when you felt it—the hard press of him against you, only the thin lace of your thong keeping you apart. A sharp gasp slipped past your lips, swallowed instantly by his mouth as he kissed you deeper, his hands gripping your thighs, keeping you locked in place. Your fingers curled into his shoulders, nails digging in as a shudder ran through you.  

“You still hate me?” he murmured, his voice teasing but rough, his breath hot against your lips.  

Your eyes fluttered open, locking onto his, clouded with a mix of defiance and something dangerously close to surrender. “Ye—yeah,” you mumbled, though the tremble in your voice betrayed you.  

His smirk was slow, knowing. His grip tightened, his fingers flexing against your hips. “Bet”  

Before you could say anything else, he stretched you—slow, deliberate, making sure you felt every inch of his dick claiming you. Your mouth fell open, a soundless moan escaping as your body arched into him. His forehead rested against yours, both of you caught in the moment, breathing each other in.  

Your hands clutched at his back, nails dragging along his skin as he pulled you impossibly closer, filling you to the hilt. The heat, the tension, the months of unspoken rivalry and buried longing—it all exploded into something neither of you could stop now.  

And you didn’t want to.

Jimmy moved slowly, setting a rhythm that had your breath hitching with every deep, calculated stroke. You were used to men who rushed, who chased their own pleasure without thinking about yours. But Jimmy—he took his time, like he had something to prove. Like he wanted you to feel every inch of what he was doing to you.  

A shaky breath escaped your lips as your fingers curled against his shoulders. “J-Jimmy…”  

His grip tightened on your hips, his mouth ghosting over the shell of your ear. “What, baby?” His voice was thick, teasing, but there was something raw beneath it.  

You swallowed hard, your body betraying you as you arched into him. “I—” Your words faltered, another breathy whimper slipping free as he rocked into you again, slow and deep.  

He chuckled lowly, his lips trailing down your jaw, pressing lazy kisses along your skin. “You always talk back, always got somethin’ smart to say,” he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. His hands slid up your sides, fingertips brushing under your oversized tee. “But look at you now… all quiet for me.”  

Your nails dug into his back, frustration bubbling in your chest. “Shut up,” you muttered, your voice barely a whisper.  

Jimmy smirked against your skin, his grip tightening. “Nah, you love this shit,” he murmured. “Ain’t nobody ever taken their time with you, huh? Always quick, always rough… but that’s not what you need.”  

You bit your lip, refusing to admit how right he was.  

He pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, his expression dark, hungry. “When a man really wanna fuck a woman, he don’t rush it. He wanna feel that pussy. That’s the whole fuckin’ point, mama.”  

A shudder ran through you, your breath coming out in short, uneven gasps. He was ruining you, and he knew it.  

“Tell me you still hate me,” he whispered, a smirk playing on his lips as he rolled his hips just right.  

You wanted to. You wanted to hold onto that last shred of defiance. But all that left your lips was a shaky, breathless moan.

His grip tightened as he leaned in, lips brushing over the shell of your ear. “Say it,” he murmured, voice thick with control. “Tell me you don’t hate me, baby.”  

Your breath hitched, every nerve in your body on fire. “I—I don’t hate you, Jimmy,” you panted, barely able to form the words as his dick hit every sweet spot in your body.  

He hummed in satisfaction, his hands gripping your thighs, keeping you right where he wanted. “Mmh, I know,” he rasped, his dark gaze locked onto yours. “You just needed some dick, didn’t you?”  

Your heart pounded, fingers digging into his shoulders. You didn’t answer, couldn’t. But he wasn’t letting you off that easy. His fingers tilted your chin up, forcing your eyes to meet his. “Say it.”  

A soft whimper escaped your lips, your head nodding before you could stop yourself. His smirk deepened, his grip tightening as he watched you unravel beneath him.  

The tension coiled tighter, every inch of your body wound up and desperate for release. “Jimmy—Yes…” Your words trailed off into a shaky breath, eyes fluttering shut as the pressure built.  

He read you instantly, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “Cum on this dick, baby. I got you.”  

And just like that, you shattered, a breathless moan slipping past your lips as your body gave in. He held you through it, his hands steady, his eyes never leaving yours.  

“Damn,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours as you caught your breath. Jimmy didn’t let up. His grip on you was firm as he pulled you down to your feet, spinning you around with ease. His hands guided you, pressing your front against the counter as his body crowded you from behind.  

“Arch that back for me,” he murmured, voice thick with command.  

You obeyed without hesitation, your fingers gripping the cool surface as he slid inside of you, teasing, taking his time. Your breath hitched, a desperate whimper escaping your lips.  

“Damn,” he groaned, sliding an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “Knew you just needed me to take care of you.”  

Your head fell forward, your lips parting. “Please…”  

He smirked at the way the word rolled off your tongue. “Yeah, baby?”  

You couldn’t form the words. Your thoughts were a blur, tangled in the heat of the moment.  

He chuckled darkly, his fingers trailing down your spine. “Mmh, all that attitude, all that ‘I hate you’ talk—where it at now?”  

You bit your lip, trying to hold on to whatever fight you had left, but it was useless. His fingers slid lower, finding your clit with ease. A sharp gasp escaped you, your body trembling under his touch.  

“Thought so,” he muttered, his lips brushing against your shoulder. His fingers moved faster as he coaxed you closer to the edge. “And you ain’t done yet, baby. You gonna gimme another one before I let up.”  

A desperate whimper slipped from your lips. “Yeah?”  

He hummed in satisfaction, his fingers working fast but firm, knowing exactly how to unravel you. “Yeah,” he confirmed. “And you gon’ take it.”  

Your body tensed, heat pooling low in your stomach as the sensation built higher, stronger, consuming every part of you.  

“Jimmy—” Your voice broke, your grip on the counter tightening as a wave of pleasure crashed over you, leaving you breathless.  

A deep groan rumbled from his chest, his arms holding you close as he followed, his breath heavy, his hands still gripping you like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.  

“fffuuuckk,” he muttered, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against your shoulder. “Good girl.”  

Your knees felt weak, your breath shaky, but he held you steady, his lips ghosting over your skin as if savoring the moment.  

“You still hate me?” he murmured against your ear, his voice teasing, smug.  

You let out a breathless laugh, too dazed to even pretend anymore. “Shut up, Jimmy.”  

His chuckle was low, knowing. “ight.”

The night unfolded in a blur of tension and connection, each moment between you and Jimmy pulling you deeper into something unplanned. You moved through the apartment together. His dick was inside of you in the living room, slow and intense, his hands exploring with a mix of desire and tenderness. Every room, every new position felt deliberate.

It wasn’t just about the heat between you—it was the quiet tenderness in his touches, the way he’d pull you close, his hand brushing through your hair. With each passing moment, it became clear: this wasn’t a fleeting thing. Whatever had sparked between you two, it was something deeper than you’d expected. And as the night ended, you couldn’t help but wonder where it would lead.

[ldydeath]

Show Must Go On | Kang Dae-sung

Summary: You and Daesung both have feelings for each other but are too stubborn to admit it. When your boss decides that a PR relationship is best for business you both worry that you're feelings might come out. What could go wrong?

Warnings: None.

Author's Note: This is my first time writing for our angel baby, Daesung. Please let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list.

Daesung had been one of the first people you’d met when you had started coming up in the industry. With both of you becoming famous around the same time, you’d grown close rather quickly. You’d spent a lot of time with him and his band over the years, so much so that you all went hand in hand at this point. People didn’t think of them without thinking of you and vice versa. It was daunting sometimes being talked about in the same circles, but you loved your friends too much to ever distance yourself from them. 

That however, didn’t stop you from being shocked when you walked into your bosses office to see Daesung there. “Dae? What are you doing here?” He shrugged and you raised a brow at your boss as you sat down. It had been a long time since you two had been called into the office together. In fact, the last time had been when you were a lot longer and were being scolded for doing something wrong on a variety show. You wracked your brain trying to think of something, anything you’d done wrong recently as your boss began to speak. “It’s a weird time for the industry and with you two still being single we think it’s best if you do a PR relationship. At least for a bit.” You blinked, having missed all but the end of the conversation. “What? That’s ridiculous. Nobody cares that we’re single.” Daesung nodded in agreement. 

“It’s perfect timing, Daesung is doing reunion shows with BigBang, you’ve got your new album coming out. It’s a win-win if you promote each other and attend all these events together. You guys have a staged photo shoot in an hour for the hard launch.” You looked at Dae who rolled his eyes before looking back at your boss. “And we have to do this?” His voice was soft and you raised a brow, wondering why he wasn’t fighting back as hard as you were. “Yes.” Your boss leaned over, handing you both a timeline of the relationship. You snatched it from his hands before standing up to leave the room. 

As soon as you were outside the room a hand was on your arm, you looked up into the concerned eyes of your best friend, “Are you ok?” Your expression softened at his worry and you let out a sigh, “Yeah, I’m just annoyed that we have to do this.” He cocked his head to the side, dropping your arm and folding them across his chest. “It’s not that big of a deal. It’s not like we’re not going to take this stupid schedule and make it fun.” It was a big deal, though. Over the last few months you’d started to feel things that you shouldn’t for your best friend. You weren’t so sure you could handle fake dating your best friend while you were navigating your own feelings for him. “Yeah, okay. I know we’ll make it fun, it’s just silly that they think anyone would care about this.”

—

A week had passed since the pictures of you being caught on a date had appeared online and you were eating your words. Fans from all over the world were obsessed that the two of you were dating. You were knee deep in instagram comments over a photo of your and Daesung’s hands. It was kind of funny how they could find a way the fans were playing detective over every post and story the two of you would put up. You didn’t even have to be in each other's stories for them to assume you were together. 

The agreement had been that you’d be caught out, being a little too friendly but wouldn’t confirm anything yet. This week was a week of soft launching without tagging each other, no faces, nothing just to gauge the reaction. Tonight was the big show. You two had dinner with Jiyong and Youngbae and a couple people from both of your teams, something you all did frequently but after the dinner you and Daesung would get caught kissing.

You were a nervous wreck at the thought of it. Just being around him like this the past week had you on edge. Careful not to linger too much when holding hands, or to not look at him too long when walking down the street. It was one thing for the fans to see you smitten, it was another for him to realize just how much you weren’t acting. You were so busy trying to play it cool that you didn’t realize the way his touch lingered or the fact that he never wanted to be the one to leave first. You were fighting so hard to convince yourself that there were no real feelings there that you were missing the probability that he was in love with you and afraid to admit it too.

A knock at your door broke your thoughts and you grabbed your bag. Checking yourself over one final time before plastering a big smile on your face to hide the nerves, “You ready?” Dae greeted you and you nodded. “As I’ll ever be.” You held your hand out for him to take and he laced your fingers together, your heart pounding in your chest just from holding his hand. This man was going to drive you crazy and he didn’t even know it. As if picking up on your nerves, Daesung gave your hand a gentle squeeze as he led the way to the restaurant.  

As expected the paparazzi was out, following you and your security down the street. Thankfully you only lived a couple blocks from dinner so the walk wasn’t too sketchy with your team by your side. As Daesung opened the door to the restaurant you leaned up to plant a kiss on his cheek, his cheeks flushing at the touch. That was unscripted and you cursed to yourself as you let go of his hand to make your way inside. Thankfully, everyone else was already there and the cameras weren’t allowed inside. You only had to keep up appearances in case anyone got a shot of you through the window, but you didn’t have to act in front of your friends. 

“I guess I just don’t understand why you two have to be here for the kiss, it’s embarrassing.” You complained as dinner was coming to an end. Daesung's eyes flashed with a hint of hurt before covering it up with a nod his grip tightening on your leg. You didn’t see how much it was killing him, being so close to you and you shutting him down every chance you got. He should’ve told you how he felt, and now he was starting to chicken out.  “I think it’s so the world can see that we support you both.” Jiyong looked between you too as you spoke. “It’s a big deal for the Hyung to approve of his girlfriend.” He sat back smugly in his seat and you rolled your eyes at him, knowing he didn’t take that title seriously anymore. 

As you went to stand once the meal was over, Daesung kept his arm on your leg, causing you to stay seated. “We don’t have to do this, if it’s going to make you uncomfortable.” You thought maybe you were imaging things but he seemed sad as he spoke to you and you frowned, your eyes locking on him. Daesung wanted to make sure you were comfortable before anything else was to happen. He didn’t care about schedules or contracts or their boss, he only cared about you.  “I’m not uncomfortable, never with you, it’s just weird, you know?” You were projecting, nothing about kissing this man was going to be weird. You were nervous that you wouldn’t be able to hide your feelings and ruin your whole friendship, but you had to do this. “Come on, once this is over we can go back to my place and watch everyone freak out in real time, it’ll be fun.” He nodded, standing up and taking your hand in his again before leading you outside.

You spotted the cameras hungry for attention, it was show time. Hugs were exchanged between you and the guys and as Daesung pulled you towards your street you leaned up, your mouth brushing his slightly. As his lips met yours, you could feel your heart pounding in your chest, and just as you were about to pull away, Daesung’s arm wound around your back pulling you closer and deepening the kiss. He had one shot to let you know how felt, and he poured all his emotions into that kiss, hoping maybe now you’d realize how he felt about him.

You got lost in the moment, your heart doing somersaults as you kissed your best friend. Jiyong cleared his throat behind you, causing you both to freeze. “Camera’s left a bit ago.” Your eyes popped open and you turned slowly, taking in the scene. It was just the four of you and your various security standing awkwardly around you. “Right. Well, we’re going to go.” Youngbae waved and the two of them took off down the street.

When you turned back around Daesung was looking at you, his expression soft. “So I guess that happened?” He chuckled his hand finding its way to yours as he faced you fully. “Kind of like you a lot more than just as a friend these days.” His eyes were wide searching yours for any clue that you felt the same and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, your hand moving to cup his cheek. “Kind of feel the same about you. That’s why I was so nervous about this whole fake dating thing. I didn’t think you felt the same and I didn’t want you to realize that I’m stupid crazy about you.” 

He grinned, his eyes closing into those perfect half moons that you loved so much and it felt like a weight had been lifted off both your shoulders. “Starting to think this was a setup to get us to both stop being so stubborn.” He made a face, looking around as if someone was going to pop out and tell him he was right at any moment. “I’m glad though, I was too scared to tell you how I felt, and I knew today was my only shot to really show you how I felt. I think maybe we rip up that stupid contract and give dating for real a real shot.” You nodded your head at his words, leaning up to kiss him again. “Come on, let’s get you home so we can have some privacy.” He pecked your lips a couple more times before leading you down the street.  Both of you making a mental note to thank your boss and everyone else who’d been involved in setting this up for getting you to realize that you two were crazy about each other.

tag list: @wcnderlnds @alosss-blog @sooyasya @dprvivi @infinetlyforgotten @mirahyun

[glowettee]

the secret to taking notes that make you want to study ✧˖°

hey lovelies! mindy heree <3

for this post i'm superrr excited to share a guide on taking notes that make you want to study ✧˖° trust me, i know how overwhelming it can get when it feels like you're stuck in the middle of endless textbooks and dry lecture slides (honestly, we all have those days). so, let's transform your note taking into something delightful, empowering, and totally reflective of your unique self.

✧ finding your vibe first things first, bestie: the key here is to make your notes feel personal and inspiring. rather than sticking to a rigid system, i suggest mixing a little structure with a whole lot of creativity. here are some steps to help you set up your perfect note taking vibe:

choose your medium: even if it’s a cute pastel notebook, sticky notes, or a digital app with fun themes, pick something that sparks joy and invites you to open it up. i personally love notion + remnote + coda

establish sections: break your notes into clear sections. introduction, main points, and summary. this not only boosts organization but also gives you a gratifying sense of progress every time you finish a page.

add your signature touch: doodles, small illustrations, or even a decorative border can make a note feel less like a chore and more like a mini art project. i love using aesthetic symbols for my digital notes <3

✧ creating a study ritual i believe that great notes come from a relaxed and focused mind. try integrating these rituals into your study sessions to set a positive tone, this is really important if you want to make note-taking fun:

begin with a short breathing exercise or a moment of gratitude (think of it as your pre-study pep talk).

play some light instrumental music or your favorite lo-fi beats, or playlist. something to keep your mind in a creative zone without distractions. (i have a great playlist i made that i use for tackling assignments here: 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝒸𝓀, 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝒸𝓀, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝒸𝓀! <3)

grab your favorite beverage (i’m a fan of herbal tea or a cute iced coffee) and make sure you're comfortable. a little self-care goes a long way!

✧ structuring your notes for clarity a well-organized layout makes reviewing notes less daunting and more interactive. and obviously so much more fun, consider using this format for a balanced + demureee approach:

start with a title and date: it grounds your notes and gives you a quick reference.

write a brief summary of the topic: in your own words, capture the essence of what you’re about to learn. just summarize it as best as possible

list key points: use bullet points, numbered lists, or even headers for different subtopics. tip: use cute symbols for bullet points

highlight examples: it can be a quote, a definition, or an application concept, mark these with a star or a cute icon.

close with a reflection: jot down any questions, what you found most interesting, or even a mini action item related to the topic. this is your space for self-talk and reflection.

✧ turning notes into interactive canvases (cause we need it) notes aren’t meant to be static pages floating in an endless binder. make them interactive to truly boost your study sessions:

include thought-provoking questions: ask yourself things like “what would elle woods do?” (lol, we love her <3) or “how does this connect with real life?” to spark critical thinking.

add mini quizzes: at the end of each section, write one or two questions that challenge you to recall key points.

leave room for updates: as you learn more, come back and add extra notes, doodles, or even inspirational stickers (yes, just like in a scrapbook!).

✧ personal tips from mindy because i want you to shine in every note you take, here are my totally secret, fun tips to elevate your note routine:

secret tip #1: color with purpose choose a color palette that not only looks cute but also maps out different themes in your subject. use one color for definitions, another for examples, and maybe a sparkly tone for key takeaways. over time, these colors will trigger your memory (i promise, it really works!).

secret tip #2: integrate affirmations studying can be stressful sometimes, so why not lace your notes with a few tender affirmations? write a quick pep talk (like “i got this, bestie” or “every detail counts”) in a corner. it might seem small, but these little lines can boost your confidence when you need it most. and it's just so freaking cute <3 affirmations from you to you, is like a love letter to yourself, so just try it

secret tip #3: try mind mapping if you’re more of a visual learner, create mind maps instead of linear notes. start with the main topic in the center and branch out with related ideas and details. this not only makes your notes dynamic but also helps you see connections between concepts (ever notice how some subjects just click with a visual flow?).

secret tip #4: use digital tools creatively if you’re leaning towards digital note taking, like me, experiment with apps that support drawing, voice notes, and even embedded links. add images that resonate with the topic or short videos for a quick concept refresher. making your digital notebook interactive can really keep boredom at bay.

secret tip #5: schedule weekly note reviews set aside a bit of time every week to revisit your notes. treat it as a mini self-study session where you update, add reflections, or even reorganize sections for clarity. this habit not only reinforces your learning but also lets you see your own progress over time, like looking back on how far you’ve come.

✧ action items for the week (it's homework timeee) to wrap things up, here are a few steps to try:

pick one class or topic this week and redo your notes using one or two of these tips (maybe add a mind map or a quick quiz).

experiment with color coding: choose colors that resonate with you and assign them to key points or sections.

schedule a 10-minute review session at the end of the week to refresh and reflect on your notes.

share your progress with a friend or even a study group to celebrate little victories. accountability can boost your motivation!

note: note taking is a creative process that should feel as refreshing and inspiring as a new day. keep experimenting until you find what truly works for you. i hope these tips help you get excited about every page you write on.

xoxo, mindy

I made this amazzinggg playlist (as mentioned earlier in the post) and its specifically made to help you complete homework + assignments. i curated it to make sure its soft music to help you focus <3 love from mindyyy 🩷

don't forget, if you need personal advice, submit it here and i'll answer it as a detailed tumblr blog post <3: https://bit.ly/glowetteehotline

[danikamariewrites]

In Enemy Hands

Mob!Azriel x reader

Warnings: kidnapping, guns, violence, a lil murder but nothing graphic, not proof read

Azriel knew. The heavy feeling in his gut twisting and turning as he paced the driveway.

The mini convoy pulling up had him stopping, his eyes widening at the sight of the damaged Range Rover Cassian was driving. His heart clenched at the destruction.

It was rare Azriel let his men see him in this worried state. He was doing a good job of keeping his mask in place, but Azriel felt like he needed to scream. Like he was going to drop to his knees and let this feral thing inside him out.

Rhys silently stepped up next to his brother, clasping his hand on Azriel’s shoulder. As soon as the cars stopped Azriel pulled away from Rhys to inspect your car. Cassian had already given Az a full report of the damage and how you were taken. He just needed to see it with his own eyes.

Azriel frantically searched the car for any clue that you could’ve left. “Az there’s nothing in here,” Cassian says gently.

“No,” Azriel roars, whipping around to give Cassian a deadly glare. “There — she has to,” Az fumbles over his words.

For the first time since he was a child a tear slid down his cheek. For the first time since he was a child Azriel felt fear.

Anger quickly mixed itself in. Azriel quickly sees red. His breaths were bordering on pants as he cast a pained look at your car.

“I am going to kill every single one of them.”

You push your chest against the ropes keeping you to the rolling chair. All that does is slowly spin you in a circle. You pull at the duct tape binding your wrists to the arms of the chair.

Even though your whole body ached from the collision you fought. And you’d keep fighting.

The door squeaks open as Beron stands over you. He's supposed to be a myth these days. Living out his exile in a quiet town, cut off from his family.

When Eris overthrew his father to become head of the family he showed Beron mercy. Something he never showed any of his sons. The fact that Beron was in the city, and with a small army backing him, meant trouble.

“Eris might actually kill you this time,” I break his brooding silence. “Do you not want to live, or are you just itching for round two with the head of the Vanserra fam—” your words melted into a piercing scream as Beron gave your knee a hard kick.

Pain blinds you. Thanks to the crash you’re pretty sure your knee is somewhere between dislocated and broken. Focusing on breathing through it you regain your composure.

“The bastard that took my spot is weak. Your boyfriend even weaker. I know they owe each other. And the pretender has no one, you were next on the list.”

You groan, absorbing the information. Nesta was good at laying low then. And you’re not a rat.

“Finacé.”

Beron gives me a disgusted scowl. “Fiancé now. Do you not get the newsletter out in the suburbs?” You shoot him a shit eating grin. Beron’s growing rage tells you to quit it with the quips.

“The title doesn’t change anything. My plan is already in motion.” Your heart skipped a beat.

“Aahh the facade does crack.” He grins. Your glare turns murderous. “If you hurt Azriel you won’t have to be afraid of the family’s. Just me.” Beron lets out a cackle as he leaves you to your pain.

It’s already been a full 24 hours and Azriel hasn’t slept. He angrily paced the house as Eris ran point, commanding men to watch Beron’s old hideouts. To comb the city and leave no stone unturned.

Rhys and Cassian have been taking turns to try and ease their brother’s anxiety. Mostly it was to make sure Azriel didn’t run off to take Beron on alone.

Right when Azriel was about to implode Eris ran into the office to report that you’ve been found.

“I have a man on the inside with Beron. We need to move now to catch them off guard, I’ll explain on the way.” Azriel didn’t wait for Eris to finish before he was out the front door.

When the warehouse comes into sight Azriel has to restrain himself from jumping out of the car. “Remember,” Eris’s stern voice sounds down the comms. “Wait for the signal.” Azriel rolls his eyes, knowing that command was targeted at him.

They stay out for almost an hour before Eris’s informant gives the signal.

Entering the building Azriel almost threw up his heart at the sight.

Once Atlas finally gained your trust you let him cut you loose and help stabilize your knee. Thanks to the pain you had to put your weight on him.

Shuffling out of the room you were hidden away in being out in the open made your heart race. Some guards patrolled the upstairs, a few weaved between the stacked pallets.

Atlas dragged you behind a stack of boxes to send a text to Eris. “Stay here.” Atlas whispers. You make yourself as small as possible. Pressing you back against the boxes as you watch Atlas cut through the room to silently cut down those foolish enough to side with Beron.

A second person took down the men upstairs. Silently laying them down as their bodies went limp in his arms.

When Atlas returns you immediately push yourself up, leaning your weight on him again.

Halfway through the warehouse angry footsteps sound from behind. Followed by the click of a gun. Atlas whipped around, shoving you behind him.

“Beron, you don’t want to do this.” He said, raising his gun. The laugh that escaped Beron sent painful chills through your body.

“Enough games. Where’s the boy? Or is he not brave enough to face me?”

“Eris will be here soon enough.”

The two stare each other down. Neither wanted to shoot first. Atlas pushes you, silently asking you to hide and leave him.

Turning as quickly as your knee would let you hobble down the center of the room, aiming to dive behind another stack of boxes.

Two shots sound behind you. One followed by the thud of Atlas’s body. The other right next to your foot. You let yourself fall, putting your weight on your uninjured side.

Beron grabbed you by the back of your neck, hauling you to your feet.

“Any second.” He panted into your ear. Beron’s arm wrapped around your neck, his gun pressing into your temple.

The door slammed open to reveal Azriel, Eris, and the rest of their men. You let out a small sigh of relief at all the familiar faces.

Your eyes meet Azriel’s rage filled ones. “Beron,” he roars. “Let her go!”

“When I have you both where I want you?” You claw at Beron’s arm attempting to loosen his grip.

Azriel was struggling with what to do. He wants to shoot Beron but he was petrified of hitting you by accident. If he moved, Beron would likely kill you.

Eris opens his mouth to threaten his father when a gun goes off. Beron howls and Eris rushes forward to pin him. Everything plays out in slow motion for Azriel. Once he realizes you fall he runs to you.

Azriel scoops you to his chest, rocking you and running his fingers through your tangled hair. “Y/n, oh my sweet y/n. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” Azriel keeps repeating the apology. You cling to him, breathing in his comforting scent.

He pulls away from you to look you over. Tears prick at Azriel’s eyes when he sees the small gash on your forehead and hurt knee. “Oh my angel.”

“I’m ok, Az.” He shakes his head pulling you back to his chest. Picking you up bridal style Azriel briefly talks to Eris. The next time you look up Azriel is buckling you in the car, never taking his arm from around you.

Az doesn’t let you walk in the house, carrying you tight to his chest again. Bringing you to the spare room you see the family doctor is already set up. An hour later she determines your knee has a bone bruise and the cut on your forehead just requires neosporin and a bandaid.

Before the doc leaves Azriel brings you to the bedroom, helping you change and tucking you in with a heating pad.

You stare at him holding his hand. “Sit, love.” He does as you say, the tears he’s been holding back finally falling from eyes. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers again. “I’m so sorry I failed to keep you safe.” You shake your head at him.

“You brought me home. I’m with you.” Az nods. “I brought you home.” He says more to himself than you.

He stays by your side for days. You can’t even get out of bed without Azriel supporting you or carrying you where you want to go. You let him for his sanity.

Weeks later, you get up without Azriel beside you for the first time. Your knee still hurts a little but you keep moving through the pain.

As if he could sense what you’re doing, Azriel pokes his head in. You smirk at him. “Hi Azzy.” He blushes slightly at the nickname.

“What are you doing up so early?” You roll your eyes playfully. “Can’t I get up and have breakfast with my fiancé?”

“Of course,” he whispers, cupping your cheek. Azriel has been trying not to hover since you’ve fully healed. You can see the hesitation in his eyes as his other hand twitches to wrap around you.

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders you lean into Az. “Will you carry me downstairs?” You press soft kisses to his soft skin to butter him up. Azriel relaxes, scooping you to his chest.

Maybe letting Azriel hover for a little while longer won’t be such a bad thing.