#I also used this to name the starring section of

[jjoelmillers]

dean winchester - bruises

♫ lucy spraggan - lucky stars

main masterlist | blog playlist

Loving a demon hunter wasn't easy. Loving a hunter was not what you expected in your future. But, you most certainly were not complaining.

Dean Winchester was a hell of a man. Often times, he was straightforward, honest and headstrong. Whether that was a good thing all the time or not, you didn't know. What you did know, was that he could also be soft, kind and caring. The Dean you saw behind closed doors was not the hunter, it was just a boy. Over the time you had gotten to know him, Dean had opened up more than you thought he ever would, and you learned things that made you understand the way he was every day.

Your relationship had, for the most part, been quite normal. Sure, you'd been kidnapped by Crowley once or twice, but that's what you get, dating a Winchester. But, when the King of Hell wasn't being a menace in your local area, you found dating Dean was one of the most calm and natural things you had ever done. Loving him was easy, and being loved by him was the best feeling. 

Dean's love language has always been touch. Physicality was always the way he showed love; hugs, kisses, falling asleep together. You name it, Dean did it. You were never short of love from him. In turn, you always helped him after a hunt, usually when a demon had given him a good fight. Tonight was another one of those nights. 

It was about 9pm, and you were just wandering around your apartment, tidying up a few things before planning to settle on the couch with a good book and some hot chocolate. There was a knock, the same knock that only one man did to let you know it was definitely him. Standing, you opened the door, and there was your boyfriend, bloody and bruised. 

"Dean!" you exclaimed, partly shocked at the state of his face and partly happiness. "Come in, babe, what on Earth happened to you?"

He shook his head and smirked a little, eyes staring into yours. 

"The same thing that always happens, sweetheart."

That gruff, sarcastic voice always tried to make the best of every situation. You chuckled, and brought him to the couch. Fetching a glass of water for him, and some washcloths, you began to clean him up whilst you sat.

Dean still, after all this time, wasn't used to someone helping him in times like this. Not that anyone hadn't ever offered, Sam and Cas most certainly had, but he never took the help. With you, Dean knew he didn't have a choice. You were always there to fix him, in more ways than just this. He wasn't against it, and he didn't think he deserved it most of the time, but it never stopped you and your love was something Dean wouldn't give it up for the world.

As you sat, your legs touched and Dean's hand sat on your thigh, thumb stroking up and down against the fabric of your pyjamas. Every now and then, you'd catch each other's eyes and smile. From previous experience, you knew Dean wasn't too talkative in these moments, and you respected that. Each time you cleaned up a section of his face, you gave him a quick kiss on the area. Slowly but surely, you had patched him up everywhere. 

"There we go,back to normal," you said, then shrugged. "Well, you know, as normal as a hunter can get, at least."

"So, not at all then, hey?" He chuckled, then held his ribs.

"Everything alright, Dean?" you asked,and he lifted his shirt to reveal his bruised rib cage. Your eyes widened. "Dean!"

"Well I figured you can't exactly fix this with water, can you?"

You just shook your head. "You're way too stubborn, Winchester."

"Ahh, you love me anyway."

"I do, now get your kit off and change into something less blood-stained." 

He stripped down and fetched a pair of lounge pants from his drawer. Dean came round to your apartment so often you bought a specific set of drawers just for him, growing tired of having no space for your own clothes. You weren't complaining though, there was always something of his for you to wear. 

"Better?"

You spun round to see your boyfriend in just his pants, without his shirt on. You cocked your eyebrow, and smirked.

"Not that I'm complaining, believe me I'm not, but where's your shirt?"

"Nuh-uh," he started, taking your hand and leading you over to the sofa again. "You never mentioned a shirt, just something 'less bloody', and I believe I have fulfilled that request."

"I hate when you're right, Dean."

Dean winked at you and pulled you over to him, so you were straddling his lap. He looked at you, eyes sparkling and smile present. When he smiled like that, his whole faced lit up. But, you knew it was mostly put on, as these situations drained him, and though eh wouldn't admit to it, they scared him. The atmosphere got a bit more serious now you two were seated again.

Dean's hands rested on your hips, and one travelled up to the back of your head, running through your hair as he went. Pulling you forward, you rested your forehead against his. His hand came forward, tracing your jaw and running his thumb along your lips before he spoke.

"Thank you."

Dean's voice was a low whisper, his eyes closed as he just being in the moment. He got very emotional after hunts, and you guessed it was the comedown of adrenaline, or the thankfulness he felt that he could come home. Sometimes, it wasn't too bad, and the risk was low, but he got especially in his feelings after a risky run. Such as now, where he held you and you stroked his hair. Dean listened to your heartbeat, calming himself fully by counting the beats.

"I've always got you," you whispered into his ear, kissing the top of his head. "You don't have to thank me. I'll always be here. No matter what, or however bad it feels, I'm here to fix it. Never forget that. I love you, baby."

A hoarse reply came from the man in your arms.

"I love you too."

Dean looked up, and you could think he was close to crying. He looked tired, very tired. You smiled down, and brought your lips to his. The kiss started soft, your hands on either side of his face and his hands on your waist. He pulled you both down, so you were lying side by side on the sofa, facing each other. The kiss broke, and Dean was looking down at you, fingers tracing up and down your side lazily.

"I got very lucky to have you, sweetheart. I'm sorry things get dangerous, but know that I'll protect you, okay? I'll fight hell twice over for you."

You cuddled into him, and his strong arms enveloped you in a safe warmth you only got with him. You had forgotten all about your hot chocolate and book, but that could wait. For now, you were cherishing the soft moments with your boyfriend, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

[alinathinkstoomuch]

BEST WORST DATE EVER

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader (part of my fake!fiancee series, but can be read as a standalone) summary: you finally score a date with your favourite FBI agent but none of it goes to plan. warnings | an: everything that could possibly go wrong goes wrong, reader wears dress, heels & makeup, reader also has hair rollers in for a sec, fluff, the usual romcom feels, kissing in the rain, two fools falling in love. word count: 4.2k

✧ masterlist

Finally, after literal weeks, the stars – or, more accurately, the schedules – had aligned, and you had a date booked in your diary, with the only FBI agent who had ever made you forget how to spell your own name. Aaron Hotchner. The man who singlehandedly caused your brain to malfunction whenever he so much as breathed in your direction, or replied to your texts with perfect punctuation and no smiley faces.

This was it.

Date of the year. Date of the century. There would be bubbles, stolen glances, banter so electric it could power a small city or the entire FBI headquarters. Delicious food you wouldn’t even taste because, let’s be honest, who could chew in the presence of Aaron Hotchner looking at you like that?

All you had to do was get ready.

And you had. For three hours.

The dress was flawless – not even out on the racks yet – paired with colour-coordinated heels (obviously). Your feel-good playlist was echoing through the apartment, every song making your soul shimmy a little harder. You were glowing – literally, thanks to a brand-new highlighter and the sheer power of giddy excitement.

The evening itself? Divine. A soft summer night, the sky painted in dreamy strokes of orange and lavender. The breeze was so perfect, you had opened every window just so it could slip and wrap around your apartment.  It was giving beach house in the Hamptons – if the Hamptons had rush-hour traffic and someone aggressively yelling downstairs. Still, you’d take what you could get.

The night had started out on such a high that you chose to completely ignore the literal kink in your hair from a rogue roller that, for the first time ever, had gotten stuck. Like, really stuck. You had pulled. You had pleaded. You had given it a stern talking-to. Nothing worked.

So you yanked it free, wincing at the small collection of sacrificed strands now floating to the floor like sad little snowflakes. Whatever, you had told yourself, fluffing the misbehaving section. This just gave you an excuse to finally try that overpriced hair mask hiding at the back of your vanity. Self-care, right?

Crisis managed (ish), you turned to your dress – still hanging like royalty on its satin hanger, just waiting to be slipped into. It slid on like a dream, hugging every curve like it had been custom-made for your body and your body only. Which, technically, it had. A little tailoring here, a few adjustments there – you’d poured hours into making sure it was the dress. All that was left now? Zip. It. Up.

Which would’ve been a total breeze if you weren’t doing this solo.

“If you were a little taller, Gus, you’d be able to put those paws to good use,” you sighed, glancing down at your dachshund, who blinked up at you like you were insane. 

With Gus officially out of the running for Most Helpful Roommate, you took matters into your own hands. You twisted, reached and arched your back like a ballerina in The Nutcracker attempting an interpretive piece titled Why Am I Alone on Zipper Night? You even tried the shimmy-and-zip method that had worked exactly once in college when your roommate had bailed on you before formal.

No luck.

You huffed, shaking out the upcoming cramp in both of your arms. “Alright. We’re doing this the old-fashioned way.”

Marching into your office-slash-design-studio, you grabbed a roll of ribbon from the supply shelf and snipped a decent length off. Back at the mirror, you looped the ribbon through the zipper pull. Once it was securely hooked, you angled your body just right and gave the ribbon a gentle tug upward.

Your go-to method. She had never let you down before.

It moved and you felt it glide smoothly up your back, the zipper obeying like it knew who was in charge. You kept going – slowly, carefully – completely unaware you were holding your breath until –  

Snap.

You froze. Ribbon in hand. Soul temporarily exiting the premises.

Eyes squeezed shut, you stood there in absolute silence. You needed a moment, maybe two and possibly a drink.

You opened one eye.

Then the other.

You turned yourself to face the mirror and catch a glimpse of the back of the dress.

There it was, lodged three quarters of the way up your spine like a passive-aggressive ex refusing to leave. The pull? Gone. Vanished. Probably sipping a margarita in the Bahamas with your last bobby pin.

You stared at your reflection. Stared at the zipper. Stared at yourself staring at the zipper.

And then – you smiled.

Because you were not just any woman. You were a woman well-acquainted with last minute fashion emergencies. It’s what you did for a living. You’d made Halloween costumes of out duct tape and dreams. You’d hemmed dresses fifteen minutes before walking out the door. You’d once fixed a broken strap with a paperclip and a prayer – and it had held through a full night of dancing.

A snapped zipper? Please.

Back in your mini home studio, you slipped your arms out of the dress and rotated the back to the front so you could get to work. It wasn’t elegant nor graceful and there was a brief moment where you may or may not have used your teeth. But five minutes later?

The zipper had a new pull.

Was it technically a vintage charm from a bracelet you hadn’t worn since sophomore year? Yes.

Did it match the dress perfectly and look like it belonged there? Also yes.

You put the dress back on like it was made of glass and you were the belle of a very last-minute ball. The zipper held, the charm glinting in the mirror like a little badge of honour – or maybe the reason for your first grey hair.

Crisis: officially handled.

With your heels and clutch within reach, you made sure Gus was all set for the night. A little blanket nest on the couch with his favourite chew toy (the one that somehow still squeaked despite being mauled within an inch of its life). Your feel-good playlist had also been swapped out for classical music because apparently, according to the internet, dogs appreciated it. You weren't totally sure Gus cared, but you liked the ambiance.

“You good, little man?” you asked, scratching behind his ears.

He let out a dramatic yawn, turned in a slow, sleepy circle, and flopped onto his blanket like he had also just survived a zipper-induced emotional rollercoaster.

You grinned. “Same, honestly.”

And then – a knock at the door.

Your heart fluttered. Not dramatically, but enough to make you pause. You smoothed your dress one last time and gave Gus a look. “This is it,” you whispered. “Wish me luck.”

He blinked at you. Supportive, if slightly bored.

You crossed the room, lifted your chin, and opened the door.

There he was.

Aaron Hotchner.

Suit perfectly pressed, hair slightly wind-swept and a bouquet of flowers in his hand. For a moment, he didn’t say a word. He just looked at you, eyes warm and fixed on you like you had just walked straight out of a dream and into his reality.

His gaze moved slowly, drinking in the details like you were the best top-shelf wine he’d ever been offered – the kind you don’t rush, the kind you remember. When his eyes met yours again, something in his expression softened.

“…Wow,” he said, voice low.

“Careful, Aaron Hotch Hotchner. You keep looking at me like that and I might start thinking you missed me.”

That earned a smile – not the tight-lipped professional one, not the guarded BAU version. No, this one was real. It reached his eyes, it crinkled at the corners and it felt like something just for you. “I did,” he replied simply.

Your smile widened. “Good answer.”

He held out the bouquet. “These are for you – though, I have to say, they feel a little underwhelming after seeing you.”

“Wow. Look at you being all smooth.”

“I had a whole line prepared,” he admitted. “You kind of ruined it by looking like that.”

“Guess I’ll try to tone it down next time.”

“Don’t,” he said, already a little too soft again.

You took the flowers, their stems cool against your fingers and stepped aside. “Let me get these in water, and you can meet the most important man in my life.”

Aaron raised an eyebrow.

You gestured toward the living room. “Gus.”

Right on cue, the little dachshund trotted in, ears perked, tail wagging.

Hotch crouched down immediately, like the well-trained guest he was. “Hey, buddy.”

Gus sniffed his palm, then turned and padded right past him, deeming the man neither a threat… nor particularly impressive.  

From the kitchen, you laughed. “Don’t take it personally. He’s playing hard to get.”

“I’m familiar with the type,” Aaron called back.

“Really? Who?” You reached for your tallest vase – the one that only ever saw the light of day when something mildly romantic happened. “Because it definitely can’t be me,” you continued, “I’ve been practically sending smoke signals.”

You turned on the tap, the water rushing out as you tried – and failed – to bite back your smile. You had light grip on the vase, distracted by the sound of Aaron chuckling behind you. The vase filled faster than expected and before you could react, it slipped right of your hands, clattered loudly in the sink, and half its contents splashed right onto your dress, the countertop and the floor.

“…That sounded expensive.”

“It was,” you said flatly, staring down at the soaked fabric of your dress. “It also doubles as a statement piece and apparently, a hazard.”

Aaron was at your side in a second, gently picking up the vase from where it was now sitting crooked in the sink. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, totally.” You grabbed the nearest dish towel and dabbed at your dress. “I only spent three hours getting ready, survived a zipper mutiny, and now I’m just casually being waterboarded by a flower arrangement. It’s fine.”

Hotch’s lips twitched. “Want to reschedule?”

You shot him a look. “If I put on another dress, I might start charging emotional labour.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Fair.”

You kept dabbing at your dress, pretending to ignore the fact that this was the second wardrobe-related crisis of the evening, while Aaron rescued the bouquet, reassembling it like it hadn’t just committed a minor act of sabotage.

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered, glancing down at the damp patches, “I still look cute, right?”

Hotch looked up, dead serious. “You look incredible.”

The words landed somewhere in your chest, like he wasn’t just saying it to flatter you, but simply stating a fact. “Well,” you exhaled, fluffing your hair like that might buy you back a sliver of composure, “I’m not changing again, so I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

You grabbed your clutch, slipped on your heels and gave your apartment one last once-over before turning to Aaron. “Alright. Let’s try this again.”

He offered his arm. “Shall we?”

You looped your arm through his. “We shall.”

You made it downstairs without incident and Aaron, ever the gentleman, opened the passenger side door of his car, and you slipped in without doing some ridiculous like flashing him your underwear.

Once he was settled in the driver’s seat, he started the engine, sparing you a glance. “Seatbelt?”

You clicked it into place. “What kind of date do you think this is?”

“The kind where I don’t want to fill out paperwork after.”

You grinned, turning slightly. “You’re funnier than I expected.”

“I’m told it’s my most surprising quality.”

“You are full of surprises, Hotchner.”

Just as he pulled out of the lot, the universe – ever the drama queen – decided it had been too quiet for too long. The GPS, unprompted and in the loudest possible volume setting, blared: “Turn left in twenty feet!”

You both flinched.

“Wow. Okay. Was she… yelling at us?”

Hotch reached forward to lower the volume. “She gets a little aggressive when I don’t use her often.”

“Hm,” you hummed. “Sounds familiar.”

“Is this your way of telling me I’ve been ignoring you?”

“I would never be that passive-aggressive.”

The GPS interrupted again, louder. “Turn left now!”

You jumped. “Okay, well she would.”

“I think she’s siding with you.”

“As she should.”

Things finally settled as Aaron pulled away from the curb, the GPS now speaking in something resembling an inside voice. You stole a glance at him. Then another. It wasn’t your fault. The way his hands gripped the wheel? Illegal.

And God, he smelled good. Not cologne-overkill good – the kind of good that was understated and wildly unfair. Like expensive soap, confidence and something distinctively manly. You shifted in your seat, trying to look not as flustered as you felt.

“This is fine,” you muttered to yourself, staring out the window. “Totally normal. Just a casual date with the FBI’s finest.”

“What was that?” Aaron asked, glancing at you.

You smiled sweetly. “Just talking to the GPS. Making sure she knows who’s in charge now.”

He smirked – and that should be illegal too. “Let me know how that goes for you.”

You were just about to fire back a quick, witty response (something equal parts charming and slightly unhinged), when the car made a new sound. Not a thud. Not a rattle. More like a… dramatic wheeze, a mechanical sigh of defeat.

Your head snapped toward him. “Oh no.”

Aaron frowned and pulled the car over. “It’s probably nothing. Just a –”

The engine sputtered again, the lights flickered once, then everything died.

“That felt like something.”

Aaron tried the ignition once, then twice and was met with nothing but an empty click. He sighed, finally admitting what you could already see written all over his face.

Defeat.

You leaned back in your seat, trying not to laugh. “So… what’s the verdict Hotch Hotchner?”

“It’s not the battery, not the alternator…I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I’m not a mechanic.”

“I thought you were the FBI,” you teased. “You’re telling me you can dismantle a semi-automatic in ten seconds, but you can’t hotwire your own car?”

“I could hotwire a car,” he corrected - and, okay, that was absolutely a visual you were going to revisit later. “But I’m pretty sure it’s frowned upon when it’s your own.” He undid his seatbelt and added, “I’ll take a look under the hood.”

You slid out of the passenger seat and followed, heels clicking as you caught up with him. He had already shrugged off his suit jacket by the time you reached him, revealing a fitted black dress shirt that was doing far too much damage to your eyes, brain and heart.

“Here,” you offered, extending your hand. He glanced over, momentarily surprised, then handed the jacket to you with a grateful nod. You folded the jacket over your arm, watching him roll up his sleeves. Wow, even more damage. It felt like you were in some kind of fighting video game, watching all your health bars flash red in every area marked vulnerable to manly forearms.

He leaned into the engine compartment, brows furrowed, sleeves pushed back, giving you a front-row seat to the this-shouldn’t-be-so-attractive show.

“So,” you began conversationally, “did you always want to catch bad guys or was FBI agent your backup plan after professional modelling fell through?”

"I think you might have me confused with someone else."

“Nope.” You shook your head. “I’ve seen those arms. Definitely modelling material. Like, trench coat on a rooftop, smouldering into the sunset kind of thing.”

“Flattery isn’t going to restart the engine.”

“Maybe not, but it’s certainly improving the situation for me,” you shot back with a grin. “Besides you haven’t answered my question.”

He straightened up, eyes on you now instead of the uncooperative car. "I was actually a lawyer first."

"A lawyer too? That's no fair. Is there anything you can’t do?"

He glanced down at his watch, then back at you with a half-smile. “Get us to dinner on time, apparently.” His line of sight then briefly shifted to your shoes. “Think those heels of yours can survive a walk? The restaurant isn’t much further from here.”

You rolled your eyes. “Please. You know what they say – give a woman the right pair of shoes and she can conquer the world.”

He shut the hood of the car with a thump, then looked at you again, eyes lingering a little longer this time. “Is that what you’re doing tonight? Conquering the world?”

“Absolutely,” you confirmed, sweeping the hand that wasn’t holding his jacket down your still-slightly-damp outfit. “One malfunctioning car, soggy dress, broken zipper and FBI agent at a time.”

His smile deepened. “You know…most people wouldn’t be laughing through all of this.”

“Are you calling me most people? Because I can give you your jacket back right now, no problem.”

He shook his head slowly, his gaze still on you. “No. I’m saying you’re beautiful, and I don’t think I’ve met anyone quite like you.”

That stopped you cold. The words catching you off guard completely, so much so that you dropped your eyes down to the pavement. You couldn’t remember the last time someone made you feel so…seen. So genuinely appreciated.

Considering you track record – dating, even being engaged to nothing but jerks – it was hard not to feel like all you’d ever known were bad eggs. But standing here, it finally felt like maybe, just maybe… Aaron Hotchner was one of the good ones.

“You’re not going shy on me now, are you?” he asked and you felt his hand brush against yours as he gently took back his jacket.

You shook your head with a soft laugh. “No. Just trying really hard not to picture you as an egg.”

He moved behind you then, and before your brain could catch up, he was carefully draping the jacket over your shoulders – warm from where it had rested on your arm, smelling like him in a way that made your heart stutter.

“Do I even want to know?” he murmured near your ear.

You turned your head just enough to catch his eye over your shoulder, your voice quieter now. “Just that you’re a good one.”

“A good egg?”

You grinned. “The best.”

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you to that lava cake.”

Within seconds his car was locked and left behind on the side of the road – forgotten in favour of the glow ahead. His jacket was too big on you, but it was warm. And for some reason you couldn’t quite explain, it made you feel safe. Every time the fabric shifted, brushing lightly against your arm, it reminded you he was still there, walking beside you.

And then, as if the universe wasn’t quite done with you yet, a few stray raindrops tapped against your cheek, the kind of drizzle that made everything smell like damp concrete and slow evenings.

You glanced up toward the sky, then over at him. “Seriously?”

Aaron looked up too, lips twitching. “We can call a cab.”

“It’s fine. I put on waterproof mascara, might as well see if it lives up to the hype.”

He gave you a sidelong glance, like he was trying to decide if you were serious, then just nodded once – like a man who didn’t quite know what waterproof mascara was, but respected the commitment – and kept walking.

You followed, doing your best runway walk despite the slick pavement and the extra weight of his jacket. It actually looked like the two of you might make it to dinner on time.

Until your heel caught.

It was subtle at first – a shift in your step, a little tug – until you stopped walking completely and looked down to find your heel wedged neatly into the crack between the curb and the sidewalk.

You sighed, long and theatrical. “Oh, come on.”

Aaron paused, turned back, and took in the situation as you gestured dramatically at your trapped shoe. “I’m telling you, the universe is sending a message.”

He walked back toward you, crouched without a word, and gently wrapped a hand around your ankle – because of course he knew how to rescue people from their own footwear.

“I’ve had crime scenes less complicated than this,” he said, voice dry.

“Are you calling my shoe a crime scene?”

“Not yet,” he muttered, and with one swift motion, freed your heel from the crack like it was second nature.

“Wow. That was… weirdly attractive.”

He stood and handed you your balance back with one steady hand. “Try not to fall for me again.”

You shoved lightly at his chest. “Okay, absolutely not the time or place to be charming.”

His brows lifted, but he didn’t argue.

“I’m serious,” you went on, gesturing wildly. “A broken zipper, a chunk of my hair lost to a stupid roller, an almost shattered vase that somehow exploded all over me anyway, a dead car, mascara that’s probably migrated to my chin – I don’t know, I can’t see – and now the sidewalk is trying to eat my vintage Dior heels? Aaron, these are all signs.”

He tiled his head slightly. “Signs of what, sweetheart?”

Your breath caught – not because of the word, but because of the timing. He said it so gently, like it wasn’t the thousand-pound weight you were already carrying.

“Don’t sweetheart me,” you said quickly, your voice wobbling. “Not when my heart is already starting to hurt. These are signs that you need to run. Far. Like sprint away from me and this whole fake fiancé pyramid scheme I’ve roped you into. The universe is practically screaming at you to get out and I think, at this point, you really ought to listen.”

Aaron didn’t say anything at first. He just looked at you. The rain had flattened his hair, darkened his clothes, but he stood there like it didn’t matter. Like you were the only thing he was aware of.

“Are you done?”

“Excuse me?”

“The speech, the spiral, the dramatic monologue,” he continued, stepping closer. “Was that the end, or should I expect an encore?”

You opened your mouth, whether to defend yourself or double down, you weren’t even sure, but he was already there, just a foot away, the rain closing in around you both like a curtain.

“You think I haven’t seen chaos before? You really think I’d be here if I needed to run?” He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t trying to fix you. He was just there. Standing in the middle of the mess you were trying to warn him away from… and not moving.

“I’m a walking disaster tonight.”

“You’re soaked and dramatic,” he corrected. “Not the same thing.”

“I’ve done everything I can to prove this is a bad idea.”

“And I’m still here.”

You stared at him, rain blurring your lashes. “Why?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Because I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

That stopped the noise in your head – the overthinking, the spiralling, the guilt, the sheer panic of letting yourself want something that wasn’t wrapped in self-protection.

And then the rain really came.

No longer a gentle drizzle, but a full-on downpour.

You gasped as it hit, cold and immediate. Rain clung to your lashes, soaked through your hair, slid down your neck in rivulets. Your dress plastered to your skin and Aaron’s jacket felt ten times heavier as it soaked up the water.

The street around you emptied in an instant as people scattered for shelter. But neither of you moved, frozen in the middle of the sidewalk like the storm had carved out a private world just for this moment.  

Aaron didn’t flinch. Didn’t suggest shelter. He just watched you through the rain, like the sight of you standing there – drenched, dramatic, furious at fate – was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“You still don’t think this is a sign?” you asked, breathless, rain slipping over your lips like punctuation.  

“I do actually,” he answered the same time his hand moved to cradle your cheek. “I think it’s a sign for me to do this.”

His lips were on yours before you could even process it. There was no hesitation, no searching for the right moment because this was the moment. You kissed him back, tasting the rain, your fingers fisting into the damp fabric of his shirt as if that would help with the dizziness you felt. The kiss wasn’t perfect, not by movie standards – it was messy and soaked and your teeth bumped slightly when you smiled against his mouth.

But it was real.

It was the kind of kiss you felt everywhere. In your knees. In your ribs. In all the places you’d spent years protecting.

When he finally pulled back, you almost winced at the loss of him, like your body hadn’t quite agreed to let go. You stood there, blinking up at him through rain-slick lashes, barely breathing.

“You’re smiling,” he murmured, his thumb brushing across your cheek, as if to make sure it was still really you.

“You make it incredibly hard not to.”

He gave a small nod, then leaned in to press a tender kiss to your forehead. “Good,” he said softly against your skin. “We can still make the reservation.”

You groaned, tipping your head back. “I’m soaked, I can feel mascara on my collarbone, and I’m pretty sure my heels would make a squidge noise with every step.”

He said nothing, just waited because of course he knew there was more.

You looked back at him, a little hesitant now. “Would you kill me if I said…we skip the reservation, grab takeout and spend the night with Gus instead?”

He shook his head again. “We could spend the rest of the night standing out here in the rain and I wouldn’t have many complaints.”

tags - @fandomscombine @dohmeti @pastelpinkflowerlife @hazzyking @bernelflo @risenqueen1521 @jazzimac1967 @camihotchner @abschaffer2 @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @pacmillo-blog-blog @stilestotherescue

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1st divider by cafekitsune

[dakusan]

H O W S K Z T E X T W H E N … T H E Y ’ R E D R U N K

stray kids ot8 x reader | drunk texting, emotional whiplash, chaotic flirtation, love at 2AM

🌙 synopsis: They said they wouldn’t get that drunk. They got that drunk. Somewhere between the third shot and their thumb hovering over your name, they forgot how to act normal. They text like it’s a confession booth. They voice memo like it’s their last voicemail. Some of them send “u up?” with a smile. Some send “i miss u” with a death grip on denial. And some…? Just wanna draw you asleep and call it art. This isn’t just drunk texting. It’s SKZ being hopelessly, tipsily, embarrassingly into you. Soft boys. Unfiltered feelings. Typos that say too much. Welcome to the inbox you dream about getting.

💌 a/n: hi. yes. it’s me. Sunday softdrops baby. i blacked out and woke up in a google doc full of emotionally unstable drunk men with fluffy hair and no texting filter. did i write han’s entire section from personal experience? maybe. did jeongin flirt with me through my own writing? also maybe. am i okay? no. but it’s fine. 🫠 thank u for reading my little brainrot. u deserve a drunk text from your bias tonight. or at least a meme and a forehead selfie. p.s. reblogs = aftercare 🥺 p.p.s. if you read this and didn’t feel something, check your pulse babe. p.p.p.s. omg it took me longer to make that fucking banner than it did to write this entire post i’m losing my mind 💀 pls validate me it’s cute right

📍credits: @cafekitsune for the dividers

🎶 Now Playing: "Love Scenario" — IKON

Bang Chan // 방찬 ✨ The “Accidental Soulmate Confessor” Emotional | Heartfelt | Always just one beer away from writing you a wedding vow | Thinks he’s texting normally — he’s absolutely not.

[2:04AM] u kno ur the best thing that ever happened to me right [2:05AM] like not just in a 😚❤️ way but in a 🌎☁️🌟💍 way [2:07AM] am i spelling good? is this good spelling? [2:08AM] imma write u a song rn brb need to find my mic. love u. (You later receive a 32-second voice memo of him singing about your eyelashes before snoring kicks in.)

📱 Text style: Long heartfelt paragraphs cut into chaotic line breaks. One (1) existential crisis per text chain.

🥂 Drunk vibe: A soft ball of love. Tears up mid-sentence. Thinks about forever while holding his water bottle like it’s a mic.

💿 Aesthetic: Hoodie sleeves over his hands, star projector spinning, acoustic lo-fi playing, and the word “love” typed and retyped 12 times.

🍷 What he got drunk on: Two whiskey highballs and half a glass of wine he didn’t mean to drink that fast.

Lee Know // 리노 😤 The “Angry-That-He-Misses-You” Drunk Tsundere | Bluntly Flirty | Lowkey Clingy | Mad that you make his heart soft

[1:47AM] don t get used to this i m n ot cute i jst miss ur dumb face [1:48AM] ur the only person i wldnt throw a slipper at. tha means smthing [1:49AM] “come over so i can insult u in person 🐱🖤 (Follows with a blurry selfie in your hoodie: “it doesn t smell like u anymore fix it”)

📱 Text style: Aggressively incorrect spelling + love disguised as threats.

🥂 Drunk vibe: Angry at feelings. Loudly defensive. Will call you annoying then stare at your contact photo for 10 minutes.

💿 Aesthetic: One earbud in, black hoodie pulled tight, cat curled on his lap, 2 unread messages from you he pretends not to obsess over.

🍷 What he got drunk on: Soju bombs and a shot he claimed he didn’t like but still asked for another.

Changbin // 창빈 💪 The “Buff Romantic” Loudly Affectionate | Jealous in a Healthy Way™ | Protective Softie | Wants to fight your sadness and win

[12:33AM] LISTEN i don’t say it enough but UR 🔥 and funny and i wanna squish ur cheeks [12:35AM] also i think i saw a guy look at u once and i didn’t like it i think i’m jealous?? [12:37AM] but like in a healthy communicative way😤💕 (Sends 12 progressively zoomed selfies of his forehead.)

📱 Text style: Caps lock + muscle emojis + randomly tender confessions

🥂 Drunk vibe: 50% flirt, 50% hype man. Will body slam your insecurities if given the chance.

💿 Aesthetic: Heavy chain necklace, Spotify on sad R&B, heart-shaped Post-its on his gym mirror, three selfies in your messages before you even respond.

🍷 What he got drunk on: Tequila shots and one suspicious pink drink the bartender dared him to finish.

Hyunjin // 현진 🎭 The “Poetic and Probably Crying” Drunk Hopeless Romantic | Art Boy Delusions | Will write you a sonnet and cry while doing it | Thinks your hand is a masterpiece

[1:11AM] i saw a moon tonight and thought it was u [1:12AM] no wait it was a streetlamp but i still meant it [1:13AM] ur hands r my fav shape [1:15AM] can i draw u asleep? not in a creepy way. ok maybe in a little way. (Sends a blurry sketchbook page that just says “pretty” written over and over.)

📱 Text style: All lowercase. No punctuation. A poem in disguise.

🥂 Drunk vibe: Gazes out the window with a single tear. Dramatically clutches his chest while texting you you’re “divine.”

💿 Aesthetic: Scented candles, sketchbook covered in flowers, red wine stains on notebook paper, whispered voice notes that make your heart ache.

🍷 What he got drunk on: One bottle of red wine, a playlist titled “tragically yours,” and exactly one bite of cheese.

Han // 한 🌀 The “Unhinged Meme Lord with Accidental Feelings” Chaotic Neutral | Otter Memes + Unplanned Confessions | Panic Texts | Actually Madly in Love

[2:55AM] i just rememebred u like otters. here’s an otter. also me when u smile 🦦🫠🫶 [2:58AM] how do i send a pizza to ur house without knowing ur address?? wait nvm i do know it. im smart. genius. [3:00AM] ok but like... i love u. oh no i pressed send wait nO (Follows up with: “jk unless??? 😳”)

📱 Text style: Meme. Confession. Apology. Repeat.

🥂 Drunk vibe: Flirting through chaos. Will quote SpongeBob and then cry because “you’re the only one who gets him.”

💿 Aesthetic: Hoodie up, random snacks around his desk, YouTube playing a conspiracy video in the background, one hand hovering over the delete button.

🍷 What he got drunk on: Soju + cider mix, three jello shots, and something called “angry peach tornado” from a sketchy bar.

Felix // 필릭스 🌻 The “Sunshine Becomes Liquid Gold” Drunk Emotionally Soft | Hug Dispenser™ | Cries Because He Loves You Too Much | Wants to tuck you in spiritually

[11:45PM] hiii 💛 just want u 2 kno ur like my fav person ever like ever ever ever [11:46PM] u ever seen a star and been like wow that’s them?? bc that’s me rn with u [11:48PM] sending hugs via telepathy did u get it?? 🫂☁️💫 (Includes a 3-second voice note: “hiiiiiii... ur cute. ok bye.” followed by a giggle.)

📱 Text style: Stream of consciousness kindness + giggles in voice memos

🥂 Drunk vibe: Becomes 100x more affectionate. Holds your hand tighter. Cries over how lucky he is to know you.

💿 Aesthetic: Lavender candle burning, soft knit sweater, arms wrapped around a pillow, 7 open tabs of photos he wants to send but thinks “are too much.”

🍷 What he got drunk on: Sparkling rosé and one (1) baby bottle of peach soju. He got tipsy halfway through dessert.

Seungmin // 승민 😐 The “Denial But Obsessed” Drunk Pretends He’s Sober | Insults You Lovingly | Texts Like He’s Not in Love (But He Is) | Regrets Everything the Next Day

[12:12AM] i’m not even drunk lol u just looked really nice in that one outfit from last week [12:13AM] don’t let it go to ur head. average. 6/10. ok fine 11/10. whatever. [12:15AM] if i die tonight tell my dog i loved u more (Next day: “that wasn’t me. i was hacked.”)

📱 Text style: Passive-aggressive flirts + “idc but here’s my heart” energy

🥂 Drunk vibe: Thinks he’s subtle. Is actually fully feral. Will send “you up?” but claim it was a typo.

💿 Aesthetic: Glass of wine untouched, sarcasm layered over panic, piano keys he’ll pretend he doesn’t play when thinking of you.

🍷 What he got drunk on: Expensive red wine he “hates” but keeps sipping like it’s vengeance. Also maybe a whisky cola he didn’t finish.

I.n // 아이엔 🍓 The “Too-Sober-to-Be-This-Flirty” Drunk Composed | Mischievous | Knows EXACTLY What He’s Doing | Flirts with a smirk you can feel through the screen

[10:44PM] not drunk just thinkin. bout u. in that outfit from last week lol [10:46PM] r u free rn or should i keep pretending i don’t wanna kiss u [10:49PM] missed my stop btw. not bc of u. but also yes. entirely bc of u. (Sends a photo of his shoes and says: “u could be in front of these rn just say the word”)

📱 Text style: Quiet confidence + emotional landmines disguised as jokes

🥂 Drunk vibe: Barely tipsy. Still 100% in control. Uses texting as a weapon and you never see it coming.

💿 Aesthetic: Glossy lips, streetlight reflecting on his rings, late train ride, voice memo he replayed twice before hitting send.

🍷 What he got drunk on: Soju + soda with ice and a lemon wedge. He’s classy. He’s dangerous. He drank it slow just to mess with you.

[honeytonedhottie]

celebrity energy⋆.ೃ࿔*:･💅🏽

so i got an ask about this a while ago and i wanted to make a post about it but i went on hiatus 😭 so im making the post now. thank you to the anonie who asked the question that inspired this post and i hope you see this cuz it answers ur ask...💬🎀

THE TRIPLE C'S ;

while making the notes for celebrity energy (the big C) and i was able to umbrella it to three main points. those points being confidence, cuntiness, and charisma.

confidence ; celebrities need to have undeniable confidence in themselves and their abilities. they're famous for a reason and they know that. work on ur self concept and watch ur confidence sky rocket.

cuntiness ; to be cunty is to be feminine and aware of urself. be cunty in the things that u do and the way that u handle urself. to be cunty is to find the perfect balance of inner strength and delicateness. cunt = refined.

charisma ; authenticity is the heart of charisma. be authentic and dont be afraid to take up space.

ALL ABOUT IMAGE ;

to have celebrity you need an image to put forward. this is where the power of social media comes in. your social media is like your brand. in this day and age social media is such a powerful tool not only for networking but also for getting u into places that u wanna get to.

in order to do that though u need to learn how to formulate ur own distinct image and advertise it expertly on social media.

PERSONAL BRAND AND REPUTATION ;

to further touch on those points ur social media IS your brand. this section kind of ties in with the next but im trying to distinguish between the two. so ur personal brand is what u do. so lets say ur rly SUPER smart and ur known for getting A's on like everything.

that is ur personal brand and that comes with a reputation that u may or may not feel obligated to uphold. but its important to uphold a reputation of some sort. with that being said be careful of what u post on ur social media because DIGITAL FOOTPRINT IS REAL. and when people look at ur social media they're seeing a representation of what ur putting out to the world so always be mindful.

WHATS UR SIGNATURE ;

you need something about yourself that’s gonna set you apart. the way that you walk the way that you dress the way that you do ur makeup etc. decide what kind of energy u wanna serve, and SERVE IT. i choose to serve princess energy and i could write a whole separate post on that but find someone who serves that same energy so that u can learn from them.

remember, dont introduce urself as a vibe that u cannot maintain

but back to what we were talking about what is your SIGNATURE. what makes u or people think "yea thats so (insert ur name)" is the way that u talk or the way that u carry yourself. make sure to refine urself and be ur own distinct individual.

and dont be afraid to play around with signatures, ur allowed to have a few or one singular one, dont limit urself and keep trying until u can create the perfect one for you…💬🎀

while on the topic of signatures i wanna touch on STAR QUALITY. learn how to market urself not only as a person but as ur own brand. star quality is the perfect blend of (talent + training + confidence)

POLISH YOURSELF ;

refinement refinement refinement. u need to be studying yourself and you need to be able to see urself from other point of views. seeing urself from other point of views can be so refreshing and useful and it rly helps when ur trying to polish urself.

take impeccable care for urself and constantly show urself that u love urself. polish the way that u talk and the way that u carry yourself so that u can be exuding so much you-energy. its basically taking ur signature and the energy that u exude -> and refining it.

you have to create the energy before fame comes. if u wanna have celebrity energy u have to start getting comfortable with putting urself out there which leads me to my next point...💬🎀

KILL CRINGE ;

when people call u cringe thats like them exposing their fear of being seen and analyzed by the world. they're upset because ur putting urself out there and they're insecure, but thats for them to fix within themselves. so dont take it personally when someone calls u cringe.

furthermore ur fear of being cringe is holding u back because ur always overthinking everything and u won't let urself do anything even if it'll help you because ur worried it might be cringe or ur worried what other people think so nip that in the bud and let urself live! u might have haters but dont let urself be ur own hater.

SOME MORE SOURCES ;

THE IMPORTANCE OF BRANDING

MIRROR WORK + AFFIRMATIONS

[cindol]

can you do brat reader x bodyguard mikasa w smut 🌚

brat taming with mika’ . . ݁𖦹₊ ⊹ ♱

mikasa Ackerman x black fem reader

cw + — mikasa is a bodyguard (obviously), reader is a pop star, brat taming, smut, modern au, pet names(sweetheart, princess), half baked bad plot kinda, consent given before hand, reader is cocky and witty,

wc : no idea because i decided to say fuck it and write on here instead of google docs .

a / n : just a warning 😭! there’s like six dividers/ time breaks because i fucking yap sometimes. also cliff hanger because im not the best at smut srry 😕

mikasa usually is just your good natured protective bodyguard, always making sure you safely get into your pink honda safely after being at some bustling club with paparazzi surrounding the area. She listens to your complaints about some asshole paparazzi getting too close for her liking and is quick to shove them back but a shove that won’t make them have some major injury.

mikasa’s always at your beck and call, feeding into your bratty popstar personality of wanting any and everything but she doesn’t tolerate disrespect. In any videos you’ve posted on tiktok she fed into the silliness of you wanting to be carried and she even tended to you orally on her own liberty. But don’t be mistaken, mikasa didn’t appreciate disrespect.

anybody who personally knew mikasa knew that she could only be so sweet and serene before she had enough of the bullshit and you learned that on a particular night.

it was a usual sunday night for you at your favorite night club, mikasa at your side in your private section with you as you partied with your girls and poured shots of tequila with the bottle and shot glasses you were given.

it really only took three shots of tequila like usual to get you tispy but bolder than usual tonight. Dancing on tables and singing, then getting some real audacity to sass at her. Mikasa only smiled at her first and brushed it off as you having more fun than usual.

but again, her patience only went so far, even for a pop princess like yourself.

once it was eleven pm the clubs was getting emptier and emptier and mikasa knew you’d soon be tired. You were so tipsy still, just giggling now sitting down with your two girlfriends now that the other three had left. In your section you noticed mikasa getting up and grabbing your pink shoulder club purse.

“whatcha’ grabbing my purse for?”

mikasa just made a simple smile at you.“well i think it’s about time to head out isn’t it? You’ve got a date with a vanity interview tomorrow and i’m sure you wanna be early and awake for that, so cmon.” she lent her hand out for you expecting you to take it like usual but you did the opposite.

instead you giggled and just put both your feet on your section’s table.“hmm, how’s bout nah? I think me and my girl’s can handle just one night without some curfew.”

“not curfew, just a appropriate time that you’ve set for yourself to not be grouchy when morning time comes, sweetheart.”

there were some giggling from your two friends at the petname she used and it made you laugh along too.“sweetheart isn’t making me leave this here seat till it hits midnight, mika and i don’t think you’ll make me even get up from here.” you stating that really just invited mikasa to teach you a lesson with her nerves being pushed with how cocky you sounded.

and thats exactly what broke her.

everything moved so fast, one minute you were giggling and teasing your bodyguard then the next in your bedroom with your clothes discarded and mikasa’s security suit done the same in the corner of your room. The only thing mikasa had on was some grey boxers and a white long sleeved blouse while her palm slapped onto your bottom again and again with you spread on her lap.

this time you had a different tone than your teasing one, now just making out whines and moans at the sensation of her hand against your bottom.

when mikasa had enough of berating your ass she smiled and soothed your cheeks with her hand then pulled your black lace wig to see your usual smiley face have a pout with your mascara running down your face.

“it makes me sad to see your pretty face so sad but you’ve brought me to this point but i have to sweetheart.”

you scoffed with a cheshire cat like smile.“at least it’ll teach you not to be such a softie, mika.”

mikasa let out a breath of air and brushed one hand through her hair at you saying that.“then i guess my work isn’t done if the bratty popstar is still mouthing off even when i spank her.”

abruptly she shoved you off her lap and onto your bed on your stomach before she went to search in your closet where you stored all your toys.

you turned your head to see her searching.“what? Finally decided to get rid of that bad medieval fashion taste and pick something of mine up?”

“if your taste mean a glittery pink dildo with a strap? then i guess pink is the new white for me, princess.” she turned around to show the dildo’s seven inch glory, ready to attach it to her waist, humming just looking at the seven inch silicone dick attached onto her.“but if it teaches you how to behave and not be so mean to the woman who protects you, i guess i’m okay with the sparkly dick.”

you were giggling still, but mikasa was gonna completely rock your shit.

by this time your glossy smirk was gone from your face, instead your eyes were rolled back with your mouth wide and drool seeping from it and moans pouring out.

On the other end of you, mikasa was repeatedly thrusting into you, her right hand holding both your wrists in one and her left hand on your hip to steady herself from the rippling effect your brown ass had at her thrusting.

“mm-mmph! too rough mika!” your hands attempted to break free and slow her rampant thrusting against your sweet spot. That only encouraged her and made her groan with a grin, smacking your flailing hands and continuing to thrusts deeper and deeper and bending her neck down to whisper in your ear and grab a hold of your hands.

“i think not even a minute ago someone was telling me i should toughen up, so i don’t wanna hear any complaints. i’m sure you somehow planned this in your little pink sparkly decorated head to rile me.” she gave a sharp thrust making you gasp out to keep you wide and alert.“so don’t give out just yet, pop princess.“

just to keep you wide awake mikasa made a shift of positioning you and turned so you were now on your back with one leg down and the other laid on her shoulder. Both of you face to face with you seeing mikasa’s pale face have a slight blush and damp here while she had the sight of seeing your face with smudged makeup and a black jet lace wig that just refused to let go from your head.

mikasa had a rare beaming wide toothed grin at that as she looked at your wide eyes and wider mouth while continuing to feed your sopping cunt more thrusts.“whatever hairstylist you paid must’ve used some life binding glue for it to stay this long.”

“guess i should send her another text if it’s being well received then.”

mikasa just hummed.“i think i can sweat it off in half a hour from here.”

mikasa would prove herself right, even if you doubted that with a small eye roll. She knew what made your body tick and your weaknesses. It didn’t take her eons to find what the female g-spot was again and again, with how she repeatedly thrusts into your woman hood she would have your climax coming early.

and she wasn’t hesitating to stop there either.

[quillsnink]

When SKZ finds your well-organized Korean notes

A/N : This idea randomly popped up in my head when I was learning my Spanish. Picture credit to the owner. Also this is the first time I've tried writing for all the members together.

• Where each member suddenly stumbles upon your neat and well-organized notes for learning Korean. They knew you were studying but didn't realise you went so far as to maintaining an old diary of 2013 for writing down random notes, swear words, grammar rules, slangs, idioms, vocabulary, tests where you had graded yourself with a red pen with marks like 16/20 or 19/25 and your signature like a school teacher and even some phrases learnt from the boys.

• Chris

He found your Korean diary on a random Tuesday evening while he was searching for his laptop charger. He wondered what on earth were you doing with a 2013 diary when he had gifted you the latest one on New Year's Day. Not one to read someone's diary, but his interest was piqued because of a SKZ bookmark hanging out of the diary. He opens it curiously, flipping through the pages that contained grammar rules, self-graded tests with your signature (which he can't help but giggle at), and even an entire section labelled "what Channie taught me", containing phrases and words he had previously taught you, that he himself had forgotten, which little notes on the side in pencil on how to pronounce stating that "Channie says it like this". He smiles to himself, feeling a surge of warmth as he realizes you're working so hard to understand and connect with him and the group on a deeper level. He chuckles at the part where you had stated that he says a word in a certain tone and he's a little surprised to see how observant you were to how he spoke Korean that you had noticed such little things even he didn't know. He is moved by your dedication and effort. It meant so much to him that you wanted to understand him better and also the rest of the boys.

• Minho

Minho's looking around your room when his eyes fall on a notebook open on your bed, with pages full of neat handwriting. Intrigued, he walks over and begins to look through them, noting how well-organized and thoughtful each section is. The color-coding in different color ink, the little drawings, and the way you’ve broken down each concept and it’s clear you’ve put a lot of effort into learning. He spots a few phrases he's used like "Don't be silly" written in Hangul. He feels a strange pride in knowing that you had gone through so much trouble of noting down things he has said and how observant you were to the other members' words and he feels a soft warmth on his chest. When you notice him looking, he gives you an approving nod. "Your notes are impressive," he says, with a faint smile. "You’re serious about learning, huh? I respect that." He’s not overly sentimental, but there’s a hint of admiration in his tone. "Just make sure you don’t learn any bad habits from the guys. I'll teach you the proper way to speak," he adds with a teasing glint in his eyes and you roll your eyes with a smile on your lips.

• Changbin

Changbin flips your notes open curiously and starts reading. The first thing he notices is how neatly you've written grammar concepts and phrases with example sentences using names from the K industry like "Changbin ate an apple", "Joshua cannot swim", "Jaejoong, go to the market !". As he goes through, he can’t help but feel a sense of admiration for your dedication. You’ve put in so much work, and it’s clear that you’re genuinely interested in understanding the language. He chuckles when he sees a section labeled "Cute Phrases learnt from Binnie," where you’ve written down a few things he’s said, noting them with little hearts and stars. When you return, he grins at you, holding up the notebook. "These are really impressive," he says, giving you an encouraging smile. "You’ve put in a lot of effort. If you keep it up, you’ll be fluent in no time!". There’s a hint of pride in his voice as he looks at you, feeling touched that you care so much about connecting with him and the rest of the group in their language.

• Hyunjin

Hyunjin finds your notes when you’re both sitting on the couch. He’s flipping through some things on the table when he spots them, open to a section on descriptive words. At first, he’s just curious, but as he goes through them, he realizes how detailed your notes are. You’ve even added pronunciation tips in English and marked down specific tones you’d heard him use, adding little side notes in pencil like, "Try to sound softer, like Hyunjin." Seeing his own influence in your notes makes his heart race. He’s touched to know you’re paying so much attention to the language, even noting his speaking style. There’s something endearing about how you’re working so hard to speak Korean well, not just to understand him but to match his expressions too. "Wow, you’re really serious about this, huh?" he murmurs, glancing over at you with a soft smile. He leans in closer, resting his chin on his hand as he flips through more pages, admiring your hard work. "If you ever want a study buddy, I’d be happy to help. Maybe I could teach you some new words too… you know, personal ones that only we would know or swear words, whichever you want", he winks, enjoying the thought of having something special shared between the two of you.

• Han

Han stumbles upon your notes one day while you’re hanging out. He flips through them casually, but the more he reads, the more impressed he becomes. Your notes are detailed, organized, and incredibly thorough. You’ve written down vocabulary, grammar rules, and even broken down complex sentences into parts. He’s particularly amused when he sees a section labeled "Funny Phrases" with things he’s said, complete with little notes like, "Han said this when he was being silly." He feels a warmth in his chest, touched that you’ve been paying attention to his quirks and speech patterns. When he looks up at you, there’s a playful glint in his eye. "I didn’t know you were working this hard!" he exclaims. "Your notes are so good; I think I’d actually want to borrow them myself!". Han’s admiration is genuine, and he’s a little flustered by how much he enjoys seeing your dedication. "Anytime you want to practice with me, let me know," he offers, giving you a shy smile. "We could make it fun, you know, with little games and stuff and next time I'll take a test and put my signature on there and an A+ and a smiley if you get it all correct", he said with a wink.

• Felix

When Felix flips through the pages and finds your neat handwriting in Hangul , he's charmed by how much dedication you've put into it, especially when he saw you noted expressions and idioms he used labelled as "Sunshine Lixie's expressions", complete with little stars. His heart flutters at the sight. "Your notes are amazing!" he says, his eyes lighting up. "It’s so cool that you’re learning, and it’s adorable how you even have a section just for my phrases." He pats your shoulder proudly, feeling touched and a bit shy. "I could help you practice anytime you want," he adds, his voice softening, secretly hoping to spend more time with you.

• Seungmin

Seungmin finds your notes by accident when he’s helping you clean up after a study session. He notices them lying open on the table and can’t resist taking a look. As he reads through the pages, he’s impressed by your organization and the level of detail. You’ve made vocabulary lists, highlighted grammar points, and even written down little notes to help you remember certain words. He brings it up later, saying, "Your notes are really impressive. You’re actually doing a great job, and if you keep at it, I think you’ll become fluent in no time." He looks at you thoughtfully, adding, "If you ever need help with pronunciation or understanding something or maybe adding some more to the "Seungmin's Tips" list, I’d be happy to help."

• Jeongin

When the maknae finds your neat diary that you've kept for learning Korean, he is a little surprised but also very impressed at you progress as the self graded "test scores" went higher and as he also remembers some difficult words meant for upper Intermediate learners you'd used a week ago while talking to him. He chuckles when he sees his own "Innie’s Words" section, where you’ve noted down phrases he’s said. Later, he brings it up with a smile, saying, "Your notes are really detailed. It’s so cool that you’re putting in so much effort to learn our language." There’s a sense of pride in his voice as he looks at you, genuinely impressed by your dedication. "If you ever need help, I’m here. I could even teach you some more slang, if you’re up for it Y/N ! And next time, I hope to see you score full marks on your little self tests".

A/N : Do like, comment, reblog and follow if you liked it. You can find the rest of my masterlist here.

[amsznn]

can you do a story about how chris and the reader meet at tara’s party but before that, reader accidentally revealed that she found chris cute and the she went viral for it (idk if that makes sense)

SOCIAL MEDIA FRENZY - c. sturniolo

2 days ago..

“chat are we enjoying this haul? don’t flame my style in the comment section.” you warned to your viewers on instagram live before grabbing the next package of clothes off the floor, ready to show your 14k viewers the next batch of items. “next youtube video when?” you read off from a comment.

“this was going to be a youtube haul, but i got lazy so..new video this week!”

your rise as an influencer had to be studied. from a random youtube vlog that you made out of the want to romanticize your life a bit and a rant on tiktok people found funny that gained 2.5 million likes caused you to not only receive near to 3 million subscribers on youtube but almost 1.9 million on tiktok.

this was only in the span of 2 years. growing and working to not only please your new fans but to also have fun for yourself as you still decided to go to college for that degree.

social media was just a hobby for you like a lot of people say. but you truly couldn’t expect the new wave of attention you would revolve for a simple comment you made.

the next item of your haul was a fitted cap that you saw at a pop up shop in your city. you recognized it from somewhere else and decided to buy it since it was also cute.

“guys this cap i actually bought because this youtuber, chris sturniolo also wears it in his videos.” at the mention of the social media star your comments flooded. “guys calm down, im not crazy, he’s just cute okay?” you laughed before setting the cap down then moving to the next piece of clothing.

soon enough you ended the live and went on with your day as normal. filming a bit of your vlog for your new video, answering emails from brands, doing some household chores and of course, settling down in your bed with some snacks for your nightly tiktok scrolling.

as soon as you opened the app you got bombarded with a screen recording of your live with the bit where you said chris was cute. it was all over. even on twitter you began trending for the potential new relationship between you and the social media star.

all you could do is read the comments, some encouraging and some hateful, watch edits of you two being shipped, and quickly text your manager profusely apologizing for the mess you just made.

you groaned while rolling around in your bed. sometimes you just forgot you were too well known to be spewing whatever nonsense came to mind.

which brings us here.

at taras party.

since she was inviting influential people, and her friends, you were a definite invite on her list. and you knew either all of one of the triplets would be there too.

you were nervous to bump into chris. would he even speak to you? and if he did would he be uncomfortable or understanding? well you were about to find out in a moment since he was walking in your general direction.

you mustered up all the courage you could and began to walk towards him. feeling the need to apologize to him since the situation was your fault and it must be annoying for him as well.

you came to a stop as he turned his body to fully face you. your breath hitched for moment taking his appearance all in. his black hoodie and black baggie jeans with his messy hair was a lot to take in in person.

either way you were gonna say what you needed to say. “hey, my names y/n. you might know me. or not thats fine too!” you stumble across your words for a minute before taking a deep breath. you could feel his eyes on you but you remembered hes just a person too.

“you may have seen the plenty of edits and a lot of my supporters in your comment sections or dms, and i just wanted to say im sorry since its been going for three days now and you must be annoyed.” you said it all in one breath and finally met the boys eyes. instead of confusion you were met with a look of amusement.

“oh you’re completely fine. honestly i felt bad for you since you were getting a lot of hate for a simple comment.” chris shrugged while giving you his signature smile. you smiled as well glad that he seemed fine with the recent uproar.

“ive heard worse.” chris said while grimacing at the thought which caused you to laugh nodding in agreement. the night went on with you and chris sticking together for the majority of the party. introducing one another to friends, chris introducing you to nick (your new best friend) and overall having a great time. before you left chris made sure to get your number and texted you to make sure you arrived home safely.

you couldnt help the smile that was spreading on your face as you recall the events of the night. maybe making that comment wasnt so bad after all.

walking towards your room of your apartment, you plopped down onto your bed and decided to make a quick instagram post for the night.

and guess who liked the post?

a/n: i hope yall enjoy this cus i sure did (i was so close to making this into a smut 😭)

[lsunstreakerl]

hello everyone I have tiny platonic max and george brainworms so here you go! 3k of the most unorganized universe ever LOL. gen, max POV, george POV, alex POV, christian POV, and an extremely brief nico POV. this is kind of in chronological order? it's little snapshots, don't think too hard about it.

"George."

Max shoves at his shoulder, hissing his name through his teeth. They both hate running, which means it's a team effort. It's also a terrible start to their day, considering waking each other up feels like more of a high pressure sport than the actual driving.

"Wake up."

He shoves again, and George throws an arm out, halfheartedly smacking him in the face.

"I'm up, I'm up. Christ, you're as graceful as a fucking tractor."

"At least I'm consistent."

"Consistently dickish."

George slides off his futon, fumbling for his water next to the bed while Max waits impatiently. He takes his time, and Max is sure that he's only doing it to be an annoyance.

"Your shoe is untied."

"No it's not."

George lowers the bottle, scowling.

"It literally is, I'm looking right at it."

Max is pointedly not looking at it.

"I don't see it."

"Because you're not looking—"

------

George has never hated anyone as much as he hates Max. Mostly because Max eats four eggs in a single sitting, has the most dorkish reading glasses he's ever seen, snores like a freight train, and is one of the greatest drivers he knows.

There are very few good qualities about him, limited to his relentless dedication to both of their training, his willingness to carry inside all the grocery bags in one trip, and his sharp eye for contracts. George is better with sponsors, so whenever they have new terms and conditions it usually eats up all of their limited spare time, taking highlighters to paper packets they'd printed out at the library that stack higher than their arms.

It's what they're currently doing now as they eat their way through an entire bag of grapes. Max is squinting down at a reworked section of George's contract, brows furrowed, and George has been attacking a predatory sponsor offer for Max with as much red ink as he can.

It seems like the perfect moment to bring it up.

"Alex is coming to London."

Max blinks, eyes still glued to the contract.

"Okay."

George crosses out another line, adding four question marks above it.

"He needs somewhere to stay."

"Is he bringing his own futon or are you both sharing? I'm not giving up mine."

That... was easier than he thought. He's not going to look a gift horse in the mouth— if Max has any issues, he's not voicing them. And Max always voices his issues.

Max looks up, properly confused as George's words actually register.

"Wait, he's not emancipated? Is he?"

George makes a face, rolling his pen across the table.

"No, his family is fine. He just needs to be closer to karting."

Max narrows his eyes, looking at George suspiciously. The effect is somewhat ruined by his giant glasses.

"And you're not going to fuck on the futon?"

George's eyes go so wide he worries briefly they'll pop out of his skull, right before he lunges out of his chair and tackles Max to the floor.

"No, you stupid git, we're not going to— what is wrong with you?"

He tries to whack at Max's head, but Max gets his knees up between them, bracing himself in a familiar way that George has learned means he's either going to get a foot in the gut or a headbutt so hard he see stars. Max chooses the foot.

"Oof—!"

George rolls off of him, scrambling a few feet to get a pillow off of the couch before wheeling back around, holding it over his head threateningly.

"Don't do it."

Max is still sitting on the floor, but George knows better than to think it's surrender— he has no issues trying to take him out at the knees, and he has a disturbingly good success rate.

He's frowning, hair rumpled.

"You better not do shitty handjobs either, unless he is bringing in enough rent to move us into two bedrooms instead of one. I don't want to listen to it."

"Max!"

George doesn't shriek, but it's close enough, swinging the pillow down as Max rockets to his feet, darting around to put the kitchen table between them.

"It is fair!"

"We aren't fucking!"

"Not yet."

He sighs, lowering the pillow. Max is doing the dumb thing where he doesn't say what he actually means, despite generally being about as blunt as a sledgehammer.

"Will it bother you? If Alex is here?"

Max glares.

"I do not care who comes in and out as long as they are helping with rent and don't snitch."

There it is.

"Alex isn't going to tell anyone. That would screw me just as much as it would screw you, so obviously I'm not bringing him here as some kind of sabotage."

There's a slightly wounded noise from the other end of the table, and Max is making eyes at him, the sad ones that make George not hate him.

"I would not ever think you are trying to sabotage me."

"I didn't mean it like that, Max. I just meant that he's not going to tell anyone."

"Because then they would know you are in love with him?"

George is back to hating him.

------

Max had known George for longer than he'd like to admit when he moved to London. It was less of a "move" and more of "frantic scramble", and he occasionally feels that it's a miracle he wasn't murdered by any of the people who decided to help a teenager and his trailer hitchhike to the UK. The same trailer is now parked up in the driveway, but it's been gutted on the inside in order to fit both of their karts and gear.

Well. Some of their gear.

The suits and gloves and helmets are frequently tossed around the flat, and Max has accidentally found himself trying to put on the wrong pair of shoes or rib protectors more than once. George never labels his things, sleeps like the dead, and has a personal vendetta against eating anything with protein.

Max has no idea how they're going to manage Formula 4, and thinking about Formula 3 gives him hives. It's a horrifying amount of driving, there's countless plane flights they'll have to figure out tickets for, and keeping track of the sponsor agreements has been a nightmare.

He's pretty sure one of his sponsors is a paper towel manufacturer.

Not to mention neither he or George are licensed to drive actual road cars, so they're playing with fire every time they drive the trailer.

It's a bit of a nightmare, and it's a lot for two fifteen year olds. George is behind him slightly, as far as their careers, which means they have to bulldoze their way through Max's obstacles before they're able to take things slightly smoother with George.

Max has only had to sleep overnight at tracks a few times— and it helps them know which hotels are best when it's George's turn, and which ones won't look too hard at unsupervised teenagers.

He drops his head onto the table with a groan. He's halfway through a sponsor agreement, George and Alex are passed out in the bedroom, and he's only mildly panicked about the utilities bill coming up. He can probably put off getting a new pair of boots if he patches duct tape on the hole that's started to wear on the inside of his right, and they'll need to take care of George's boots first, who's hit an uncontrollable growth spurt.

He's not going to be able to wear Max's things much longer, and Alex barely brings in enough support for himself. He and Max trade off each month who's going to panic about their finances, and it's a fairly good system. His phone buzzes and he winces, because it's probably the landlord, and Max isn't sure what he's going to tell her.

"This is Max Emilian."

"Hello Max, my name is Christian Horner."

------

Christian carefully sets the phone down, staring blankly at Helmut and their talent manager.

"He's managing his own contract."

Helmut breaks into a grin, eyes sparkling.

"No Christian, weren't you listening? His manager has no legs or arms to take phone calls with, and he doesn't travel."

"Yes, and I'm sure he can only be summoned on the full moon and has to be watered with the blood of virgins as well— how the hell has he gotten this far without a manager?"

Their talent manager presses a palm to her face, sighing.

"You're going to want to sign him, aren't you."

Christian can feel a weird pang in his heart thinking about the phone call— the scratchy, pitchy voice on the other end, the clear disbelief in his voice— but Max hadn't hesitated to agree to meet with them, not even for a second. He doesn't have much of a hand in the junior teams, but it would be impossible to miss the junior rocketing through the scene, especially considering nobody's seen much of his team. There's no big name backing him, just raw speed and a pair of racing boots Christian thinks might be entirely duct tape.

"Yes, I think we will."

------

"I like the looks of the tall one— from the UK."

Nico rolls his eyes, feet kicked up on the table.

"You're just biased."

Toto takes a slow sip from his coffee, gazing at the pages of stats in front of him.

"I have to agree with Lewis, I quite like him as well. He's got good speed."

"He's a tad young, Toto."

Nico is understating it.

"I do not mind pulling a few strings. The other fast boy is being watched by Horner, and Ferrari of course have their own."

Toto sighs.

"We simply have to scout younger than we have before."

------

"Uh. I did not know there were pre-racing contracts?"

Max is looking at them slightly suspiciously, which Christian thinks is probably fair, because they're not actually a thing.

"We don't hand them out often, but we really want you on the team later, Max. The pre-racing contract just means you'll go to our junior team when you're eligible, and in the meantime you'll get a stipend for gear upkeep and flights. We might ask you to do some development driving if need be."

The trick is making it sound real, like something that makes sense for a team to be doing, instead of a glorified allowance for the kid to buy new gear. And probably groceries. Christian doesn't even want to think about whatever his living situation is, because he's been doing some digging— Max doesn't have a team. It's him and his made-up quadriplegic manager, and a scraped together group of sponsors with the kind of variety he's never seen before.

There are local mechanics and grocer's shops on the list, for Christ's sake— there's a paper towel company on his helmet.

He's close with two of the other junior drivers as well, constantly around at the junior formula races that George William is at, and he's fairly sure Toto is eyeing the younger driver.

George is in slightly better shape than Max in terms of gear, but the difference is minimal. It makes Christian want to poke his eye out.

Their little trio is rounded out with one Alex Albon, oldest of the three but not quite as fast as Max. Christian wants Helmut keeping an eye on him anyway.

"So it's a stipend?"

"Exactly."

He politely ignores the relieved slump to Max's shoulders, because it makes him want to do unprofessional things like hug him. And take him to a restaurant.

The sport is making him soft— this is why he doesn't work with junior drivers.

------

Max tells Alex about his contract stipend first, so relieved he thinks he might cry. He's already thinking about where to put the first chunk of money— they'll be able to pay off their late bills, and get George pants that actually fit, and finally have a full fridge.

Alex nudges his shoulder gently.

"And maybe some new boots for you, yeah?"

Max blinks.

"That too."

------

The bull child does not immediately buy new boots. Christian's eye twitches. Max is the youngest person running around the factory by far, not counting any of the employees that have to bring their actual children on occasion.

Christian has made sure Max's badge that he scans for meals is secretly connected to a team account, and he's informed their dev team to make sure they're taking lunch breaks.

It was more like "For the love of God please make sure he's eating", but it had gotten his point across.

Daniel is bouncing a stress ball off the wall of his office.

"Boss, I wasn't aware we were running an orphanage."

Christian ducks under the ball on his way to the desk.

"We're not. He's a talented driver, and I'm going to want him in that seat."

"I hope you've got engineering working on booster seats."

He rolls his eyes, sitting heavily in the chair.

"And don't call this an orphanage, I'm sure that's not the case. We just can't figure out who his parents are."

Daniel looks so surprised that he doesn't catch the ball, and it bounces dejectedly across the floor.

"Wait, seriously? You don't know? Mate, he's a Verstappen. Like an evil nepo baby."

Christian blinks, running through his catalogue of notable names—

Oh.

Jos Verstappen had made motorsports news with his eventual arrest and charges, and it would've been early in Max's karting career. It's not surprising Max doesn't race with the name, considering the connotations that come with it.

But if he's not managed under Jos, who the hell...

"Who the fuck's raising him then?"

Daniel's eyebrow twitches. It's one of his tells, the one that means he's about to lie to Christian's face.

"Must be a relative or something."

Right. It's quite possibly the least reassuring thing he could've said— and he's taking a clear side here, trying to somehow protect the younger driver.

Which means Max probably does not have anybody raising him. Which also means—

------

"Toto."

"Christian."

"You're taking on the William's boy, right? George?"

Toto leans back in his chair, lacing his fingers together.

"Don't you have your own junior drivers? Why are you trying to poach mine?"

"I'm not trying to poach him, I'm trying to make sure they're not living out of their damn karts on the street."

At Toto's raised eyebrow, Christian elaborates.

"Max Emilian is actually Max Verstappen, and I've spent the last few weeks becoming increasingly confident that between him, George, and the older boy Alex that there is not an adult around. At all."

"Is that why you've given him an allowance?"

Christian winces.

"I was thinking that you should also do that. I can't up Max's again without him getting suspicious, and there's only so much reasonable intervention for a team to make. But he keeps spending it on the other two."

"Don't tell me he's still in the boots."

"He's still in the boots."

"My God."

------

"Max! I have another contract!"

Alex shoves his head under the pillow. He's trying to sleep, and George had been in a meeting with Williams all day before he'd caught the train back to their flat. He and Max are probably going to spend the next few hours— and following days— going over the paperwork line by line. Alex pays a manager to handle his work.

He's not sure what it says that Max and George are doing so well without one.

Max's hair is still damp, long at the edges. Alex needs to cut it soon, even if wrangling Max to stand over the sink and let Alex take a pair of scissors to his head goes well approximately never. It helps if George sits on the edge of the tub and becomes the victim to Max's thoughts on track layouts while Alex tries to focus.

His own hair is a mess, because Max and George are completely hopeless with the scissors, and he's learned it's better for him to give it his best shot with a hand mirror and a dream. They spend most of their time under balaclavas anyways.

He shoves aside his thoughts on his own career as he sits up, because he's genuinely proud of George, and he wants him to know that. His hair is grown out and starting to develop a curl pattern, and Alex often finds himself twirling strands of it absentmindedly around his fingers when they're on the couch together.

Max peers at the papers. His reading glasses are shoved up into his hair.

"Oh! You have a pre-racing stipend also!"

Alex takes a slow breath. He's not sure what the hell is going on with Max and George and their fucking racing allowances, but it's ridiculous. It's not a real thing, he knows it's not a real thing, but it's been their saving grace lately, the only thing keeping them both in racing, and Alex is petrified that if he breaths on their delicate house of cards wrong, the entire thing will come crashing down.

He couldn't do that to George. If he did do it to George, Max would probably take a hammer to his skull.

"Oh, I make more than you do."

"What?"

Alex bites his lip to avoid laughing.

"With Williams?"

Max rolls his eyes, glasses dropping to his nose as he takes the packet from George.

"George William in a Williams, that is fucked up mate. It's like if I was Max Bull in a Red Bull."

"Max Bullshit, maybe."

Alex winces at the ensuing scuffle. He should probably get in the middle of it— he's the oldest, and Max fights mean— but he'd caught a bony elbow to the face once and has no interest in it happening again.

They'll get it sorted out eventually.

[mis-anthrapologistic]

[long post] random simplyplural inspo

cw: vague s/h warning in the first pic

our current custom fields:

* lyric / quote

blank field for a divider or graphic

* bday or forming date

* age

* appearance (verbal description)

* faceclaim (picture)

* other names

* prns & sexuality

* species

blank field for a divider or graphic

* role

* symptoms held

* activity (how often they front)

* complexity (fully formed or not)

* hierarchy

* subsystem

* relationships (internal & external)

* headspace location

blank field for a divider or graphic

* source

* pseudomemories or source memories

* source quotes

blank field for a divider or graphic

* weirdly specific opinions

* likes

* dislikes

* playlist

* irrational fears

* fun facts

blank field for a divider or graphic

* sign off

* fronting triggers

* reviews (that other alters leave about them)

* miscellaneous

* badges (stamps, blinkies, etc)

* credits

other random field ideas:

* mbti or other personality types

* talents & hobbies

* how to tell when the alter is at/near front

* handwriting, typing quirks, etc

* "this" or "that" type questions (cats or dogs, introvert or extrovert etc)

* other titles to refer to the alter as

* associations

* which alters helped fill out the profile

* stereotypical tropes?

* what types of dysphoria the alter experiences (height, gender, voice, etc)

* kins/synpaths

* what they would be bullied for in middleschool /hj

* "life written by: ___" (favorite writer, music artist, etc. basically, "they get me" or saying that their work is very relatable.)

* fursonas, oc's, etc

* how to make the alter feel more comfortable when they're at front, or if you're meeting them for the first time

* neopronoun or xenogender hoards

* what they would most likely be arrested for

* wishlist of things the alter wants to buy?

* if you're into things like danganronpa, then feel free to add a SHSL talent field :3

☆

we don't regularly add anyone on simplyplural, so we don't have that many privacy buckets. however, we do have one for all source related fields (faceclaim, source, mems, quotes, etc).

we also have a privacy bucket for the pronouns and sexuality field in case we ever add anyone we know irl.

for each of our role groups, we always include a definition for the role in the description/info box for those who may not know the term. ^_^

☆

other things we to do make our profiles a little bit more fun:

* silly quotes or references for the bios! we usually do twitter or tumblr references.

* over-use and abuse the description box for the groups. we always leave little notes, jokes, gifs, or extra graphics in ours.

* we have an info page at the top of our alter list where we include basic info about the sys. we also added a basic dictionary of system terms in the custom fields and some userboxes!

* make tons of silly groups. if you're running low on inspiration, check out those sorting memes where characters are put into certain scenario categories (hard to explain, but do you know what i'm talking about?). like... what characters would do in a fire, watching a horror movie, etc.

* also, groups for subcultures‼️

* get people outside of your sys to leave reviews about the alters to add to the "review" field! bonus points of they write it like a professional review or add "__/5 stars".

* we don't read fanfiction, but if you do, i recommend adding a section in the custom fields or groups for a hyper-specific AO3 tag or something!

* don't worry if your account isn't always super aesthetic. seriously, it's okay. your account layout has nothing to do with how valid you are. just make sure you have fun. :p

[soulrox]

Flowing Blood - Demon Twin AU

DPxDC #28

This got away from me...was meant to be a small thing to get outta my head, then 1k words later it's still not done, but I cannot figure out an actual end, so it's just ends abruptly.

"Only one heir is needed. Fight to the death to get rid of the spare."

Swords clash against one another. A fierce duel where neither combatant wants to win. Both fighters back away from each other. Identical childish (7yrs) faces mirror each other. Sky blue eyes lock with forest green ones. Eyes that scream in pain for what must be done. The victor was known to them before their blades first touched.

Danyal thinking to himself: I love and care for Dami. I always do all the tasks for the league, killing any and all, so that Dami never has to bloody his hands. Dami's an artist, a creator; he shouldn't have to do this. I can not harm my little brother. I love him. I have protected him from things I hope he never knows. How can grandfather expect me to harm Dami. I cannot ever hurt him. There is only one way this goes. I'm sorry Damian, please forgive me.

Damian thinking to himself: I know I have always been protected by Danyal. I know that Danyal has been harmed before in my place. I know that I have never killed. Grandfather expects me to die, as I am the weaker one. No, not weak, never weak. Danyal has always told me my talents are to create, so why should I ever have to bloody myself? I cannot hurt Danyal, but I know he cannot harm me. There's only one way this goes. I'm sorry Danyal, please forgive me.

Damian gets a hit in. His sword is plunged through Danyal's chest. The duo huddle into each other in a facsimile of a hug. Danyal whispers into Damian's ear "It's fine, I'm fine, you're fine, I'm sorry, Dami. Forgive me. I'm so sorry, I forgive you. I love you. I-I Forgive You." The presumably final words ever to be spoken by Danyal Al Ghul.

Damian stayed stoic as well as he could with his brother's blood on his hands. His dead brother by his own hands. Oh, how much in that moment, Damian wishes he could cut off his hands.

Danyal's body gets carted away, all traces he ever existed erased. Except for the sword now owned by Damian, an engraving of stars upon the hilt. While Damian's sword with a pencil and paint brush carved in the hilt gets thrown in the pit with Danyal, neither surfacing forever to be apart of the pit.

Fast forward, Damian's lived with Wayne's since 10

Bruce decided that for Damian's 14th birthday, he would organize a surprise for him. A section of the Gotham museum to hold and showcase his artistic ability. Damian is an artist. Anything and everything is his medium. Many, many sketch books get filled by him. Most (all) of which the rest of the family has never seen. Painting is the one outlet that Damian rarely uses. Or does so in secret. As canvases are harder to hide than books.

Bruce ropes in the rest of his kids to help. The kids help because if it goes good, they'll add their name to the gift. They end up going through all of Damian's works to find items to showcase. (None of them even once think how going through his art will not make him happy)

Several sketch books are seemingly filled with self-portraits. The family, upon seeing the endless self-portraits, starts thinking that Damian might be way more self-absorbed than they ever imagined. Several who noticed are confused as to why the eyes are always greener than blue. Everything changes when Cass stumbles upon a very well-hidden canvas.

Two identical young boys wearing league clothes, smiling softly, only distinguished by their eye colors. The one on the right with crystal clear blue eyes is depicted with tears rolling down his face, while his right arm holds up a sword, with blood dripping down the blade, hitting the ground. His left hand rests by his side with bloody fingertips. The one on the left with forest green eyes has his left arm raised, also holding a sword. But his sword seems to be made of blood; the blood flows down his arm, connecting to a bloody chest wound. His right hand rests by his side, dripping in blood. A hauntingly beautiful painting with so much agony and pain seen in every brush stroke. Signed by Damian. - The title on the back calls it "I'm Sorry Dear Brother"

[ssahotchnerr]

can i request jack wanting reader to be his valentine? 🥹😭❤️

like, aaron had no idea & his son just totally steals his thunder (bc he’s been pining over reader, ofc lol) but he can’t even be mad? it’s just so sweet & cute!!! but ofc, aaron gets the girl in the end hehehehehe <3

something exhilarating

happy valentine's day <3 cw; bau!reader, mutual pining, fluff!!!!!

"jack!" you grinned as he rushed towards your desk, aaron following right behind him.

"happy valentine's day." he gushed, with newfound shyness you've never quite witnessed from him.

"happy valentine's day!" you grinned, getting up from your chair to crouch, allowing you to be more at his eye-level. "did you have a fun party at school today?"

jack nodded, rocking back and forth on his heels a bit. "we passed out valentines, played games and ate cookies and candy. but dad said i'm not allowed to have any more today. or else i'll never go to bed tonight."

"well." you looked up at aaron, who nodded amusedly. your mouth drew into a humorous yet sympathizing line, returning your gaze to jack. "i'm sure your dad is right."

jack shrugged and quickly changed the subject, holding his hand out. "i brought you a card."

"you did?" you blurted gently in surprise, taking the small valentine card from him.

"uh huh," the shyness returned, his big brown eyes looking as sweet as ever as he asked, "you'll be my valentine, won't you?"

"um i'd be completely honored." you agreed instantly, your speed of which and enthusiasm also prompting a smile above from aaron.

"cool!" jack beamed, throwing himself into you as a hug. once back on his feet, he reached for the ziploc clasped in aaron's hand. "dad, can i have the rest?"

"sorry about that," aaron chuckled once you stood up, the two of you watching jack bounce from desk to desk excitably, passing valentines out to the rest of the team. "he told me he was only passing out his cards."

"no worries. he made my day." you grinned, looking down and admiring the character valentine in your hand, which read 'you r2 cool'. "star wars huh?"

aaron nodded, naturally crossing his arms over his chest. "we scoured the entire valentine's day section for those. he's been really into it recently, all he wants to do is watch the movies."

you flipped the card over, reading both your and jack's name scribbled in his kid-like handwriting - it was adorable. "never seen them."

"oh c'mon," aaron laughed in disbelief, before his expression turned to a lighter stoic than usual, "seriously?"

"i swear." you admitted, a slightly embarrassed laugh shaking through you.

the two of you fell into a comfortable silence; still watching jack, both laughing gently as derek tossed him into the air (aaron did vocalize a careful warning). as you both stood there, there was a mutual, something you could only describe as a buzz, going back and forth between the two of you. something eager, exhilarating.

"maybe you could come over and watch them with us sometime."

aaron said it so nonchalantly, so naturally, you almost questioned if you heard him correctly. but yet, you knew you had. somehow, it just made perfect sense.

"i'd love that." you replied, butterflies erupting in your stomach.

"and maybe," aaron paused, as if he needed just a bit more courage. "we could get dinner afterwards. you and me."

"i'd love that even more."

[wall-maria-around-ba-sing-se]

Things you learn by reading the Xenoblade X pre-story short stories that were never officially translated:

The gravity on Mira is 0.94 that of Earth

The Planet Mira was named after a woman from Earth named Mira Torrez. I think it's possible to learn this in-game but I've never seen it personally

The literal first thing you learn about Mira Torrez is that she was Protestant. Which I'm sure she could be but, statistically speaking, with that last name she probably wasn't lmao

Mira was considered the "emotional backbone" on the Earthlife Colonization Project and helped bridge the communication gap between regular citizens and the more military/governmental sides of the project. She was simultaneously a clergywoman, an educator, and a scientist. Without her, many normal people perceived the project as too concerned with preserving national interests rather than life on Earth. Mira was focused on steering the plan to be "free of racial, national or religious motives"

Mira chose to stay behind on Earth as it was attacked seemingly to help board people until the last second 🫡

Most of the people in current-NLA worked in heavily-fortified sectors of the ship like the Habitat Unit and the bridge. Meanwhile, the escape pods (like the one the player is found in) were for crew members who worked in less fortified sections of the ship

The Ghosts are called such not because we don't know anything about them, or because they disappeared suddenly, but because they phased through the hull of the ship when attacking

Tatsu got captured trying to get his shut-in friend to go outside and Touch Grass. He also got captured by the Prone RIGHT as the White Whale was crashing onto Mira.

While being dragged back to the Prone camp, Tatsu wished on the White Whale like a shooting star which, to me, felt very much like:

The Nopon did not know they lived on a planet until these weirdo aliens showed up and told them they live on a big ball in space

Nagi is the one who decided that Tyrants are called Tyrants

Nagi's the one who named it New Los Angeles/NLA

Nagi is the one who got rid of the ranks (recall in the beginning of the game, Irina is used to calling Elma "colonel" but Elma corrects her saying they're all the same rank now) mostly because he didn't actually want to be the chief defense minister lamo

Nagi ended up being defense minister anyways because Vandam called him a chicken about it

It was already obvious based on his in-game dialogue and battle lines, but the short stories really drive home that Nagi really really would rather be in the field commanding a small squad than be stuck at a desk doing paperwork

He tried to get Vandam to take the job but when that fails he ends up making it so Vandam has to be head of BLADE

Before the reorganization, Elma outranked Vandam

Nagi is the one who named it BLADE, seemingly based on something Elma had said a long time ago

Nagi is constantly going "man.... if only Elma was here" and I think it's so cute. They're besties your honor.

Maurice was the only "passenger" awake on the White Whale while it was in space. Everyone else was crew.

Maurice was supposed to be loaded into the lifehold alongside the president (unclear if Of The US or of some other organization) but the alien attack started and the president and the other aides fucking died(?). He woke up on the ship alone and he was depressed with survivors guilt for a few weeks until he resolved to start building connections with people, which ended up getting him a lot of ears up the chain of command

Maurice ended up running the government because everyone else thought it was a boring job

Nagi muted Maurice's comm device because he was sick of his nagging lmao. This made it harder to find him after the crash though, unfortunately

Maurice looks up to Mira Torrez and wants to "carry on her ideals"

Maurice was the one who suggested the planet be named after Mira

Lin saves Maurice's life by using herself as bait to lure a Tyrant away from him with flares

While all of the characters agree it is an unfortunate necessity that they have to fight the indigens, Lao seems to be the most against fighting native fauna, rolling his eyes and scoffing at retroactive justifications like "sorry, but it was me or you"

Nagi notes that Lao used to be more cheerful "before all this". I did not know that Nagi knew Lao before the destruction of Earth

Elma does not make an appearance until the end of the final short story. Unsurprisingly, Irina is the happiest about Elma resurfacing and is described as "clinging" onto Elma "with tears in her eyes" (👈 👀 🏳️‍🌈❓) while Elma explains where she's been this whole time (fixing her Skell after the crash so she could meet up with the others)

[riddlesmoon]

this is so sad since wikis (should) strive to be objective... i guess thats hard to enforce when so many people contribute to it tho. still better than storing all your info in a discord (i hate you official discord servers for games, why is every modern game doing this now, please stop making me join your discord server)

Wait the wiki is bad? I use it all the time 😭 I thought the whole point is it's community-run so people should be able to fix any mistakes (and since it's a huge community that's been running for very long it seems quite robust and strict on verifying information) I do get that it has info from the videogames which most people don't regard as canon, though. But when it does it tends to note it as such, and they still consider the books/movies a higher "plane" of canon.

I love reading the wiki, but I do have to do a lot of follow up and sifting if I'm using it as reference. In tends to throw in the video games, JKR interviews, *actor* interviews, and Pottermore content, and sometimes it's organized and clearly marked, but a lot of times it isn't... and that has definitely slipped up my co-writer (whose knowledge of HP isn't as crazy as mine) a few times. Unless you already have a really solid grasp on everything, it's easy to get confused. Like here's someone who wrote into me, asking about a sentence in the Narcissa page that was 1) Poorly written 2) wrong.

The other problem with the wiki is that since it's community run, every page tends to be written by fans of that particular character. This is especially obvious with the villains. Like read through the Lucius Malfoy, or Severus Snape pages. There is so much there that's bending over backwards to give them a positive edit. There's a lot about Lucius' elegant dueling style (no source) and his skill with potions. Like the actual detail is 'Lucius Malfoy mentions having a potion collection in Book 2.' I don't want that extrapolated into 'Lucius Malfoy was a model student who got into the Slug Club because of his skill with potions.' Like let me write my own headcanons! It starts speculating that Lucius got Voldemort monologing on purpose in the graveyard to buy time for Harry!

Snape's page says that one of his skills is writing poetry. He wrote a rhyming logic puzzle in book one, which I would say is not the same thing. It also says he communicates with floriography, which is a reference to a fan theory about how the plants he lists in Book 1 are a coded message about Lily. Like *I* know that. But then the wiki just cites Book 1. That's not in Book 1.

This is actually so common that co-writer @niche-pastiche and I have an in-joke when we attribute any flattering/creative interpretation to Tom Saunders, Wasp Scientist.

Tom Saunders is a New Zealand biologist who named a species of wasp after Lucius Malfoy because:

"People see wasps as villains, as the 'bad guys.' But the truth is that the vast majority of wasp species are either neutral or beneficial, from a human standpoint. Just as Lucius Malfoy is pardoned after separating from Voldemort's allies, I'm asking people to pardon wasps in order to restore their reputation as interesting, important creatures."

Like I get that you like wasps, and Lucius Malfoy, I do too. But that's not info that's in the books.

(It is Pottermore stuff, but I honestly count Pottermore as tertiary canon at *best.* Like every once in a while it'll be a cool detail, but JKR is *not good* at worldbuilding, so most of the time, instead of explaining things... it just makes everything more confusing. And I think that all of this has the end result of accidentally gatekeeping newcomers who want to engage with the material. Like the person who sent that ask.)

[bluelockmaniac]

⊹ ࣪ ˖𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓-𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄

↳ "a cute first encounter which leads to a romantic relationship later on."

★ ft. reo, nagi, gagamaru, chigiri, sae (separate) x gn!reader

a/n: basically, you do not recognize these professional players during ur first encounter, & their reactions. biased about sae so i made him a oneshot :)

𝐑𝐄𝐎 could not help but chuckle when you bumped into him while you were at a lavish boutique, admiring items you could only dream of affording, mistaking him for one of the store’s extravagant employees. it was amusing that you did not recognize him as either the heir of the mikage corporation, or the popular football player that he is. he found your obliviousness quite refreshing. when he flashed you his well-known smile, the kind that usually made girls fall head over heels, he noticed your reaction— it seemed you had also gone weak at the knees. without hesitation, he reached into his suit’s breast pocket and handed you his business card, containing his contact information.

𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐈 couldn’t care less that you didn’t recognize him, bluntly speaking. sure, he was slightly annoyed when you accidentally bumped into him just as he was about to beat the final level of the arcade game he had always struggled with, but at the same time, he had always found it a hassle being pestered by weird fans all the time and dealing with their constant attention. being a renowned player was tedious, and for nagi, it meant he couldn’t enjoy arcades like he used to before his fame, always swarmed with admirers. when he saw your apologetic, innocent face turn into one of awe as you glanced at his booth’s screen, and when you expertly helped him beat the game, he couldn’t help but give you both his phone number and his roblox username.

𝐆𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐔 fell in love at first sight. not because you were unable to recall who he was— after all, as goalkeeper instead of a striker, he did not expect much recognition anyway— but because you were bravely camping alone deep in the mountains (probably a dare, but that’s besides the point), where visitors were nonexistent. you had fainted out of fear when gagamaru approached you in his bear costume, and so he was currently sitting next to your unconscious form as he set up a fire, guarding you from any potential dangers. he was surprised and innocently confused when you fainted again upon regaining consciousness. perhaps he looked scary? no, there was nothing frightening about a gigantic 6’3 foot man dressed in bear skin in the mountains at night.

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐈 was taken aback, and quite possibly offended, when you bumped into him in the hair care section, then with a sweet smile, told him he could work for some no-name modeling agency with a face as pretty as his. sure, the compliment was nice and all, and it fed into his already inflated ego, but he already receives lots of praise on his social media and strangers, whether they’re fans or not, on a daily basis. what bothered him was that someone as beautiful as you had never heard of the glamorous, speedy football star, and recommended he join an obscure agency no one has heard about? the least you could have done was recommend a notable modeling agency! after you inquired about his hair and skin care routine, he decided he was going to give you his phone number so he could teach you (and maybe brag about who he is).

𝐒𝐀𝐄 — click here for the one shot !

© 2024 bluelockmaniac — do not repost, copy, translate, modify, etc my work on any platform !

[redhandedstag]

❛ 004 , CRACKED POMEGRANATE . . . moody masterdoc template: 8 pages, single muse, used for keeping all of a character's information in one document. includes a title page with a list of contents, a "basics" page for the character's main information and their major character beats that have to exist in every AU they're in, a 2 page personality section (for paragraphs and lists alike), a 2 page appearance section (for paragraphs and lists as well), a connections page to showcase characters they know in every AU they're in, and a links section for related documents or links. this document is not mobile friendly due to the drawings it uses for the titles. if you intend on editing most of the images, you will need a PC and an editing software of some sort to get the gradient affect - apps with a "gradient map" effect will also work. the page is letter size (8.5'' x 11'') in landscape format. if you're using, please keep the credit in the "Links" section and consider a like and reblog. goes a long way to help creators out. model used: tanya ravichandran hexcodes for the images, darkest to lightest: 1b0000 - redblack 150000 - redblack 081f02 - green 3b241b - brown 651b29 - deep red b61936 - pinkred c4496c - pink bb9c50 - yellow fff5ce - yellowwhite HOW TO USE select the 'file' button. from there, you'll find the 'make a copy' button. click it, and then you can name your doc and go from there! do not request access. this doc uses a few tables so i suggest having some knowledge on how they work if you plan on editing anything about the appearance of them. i also recommend keeping your text around the same number of lines as shown in the template. it prevents the doc from going all wonky! to edit the images, select your own image and edit it within a separate software. be sure to maximize the gradient effect with the listed hexcodes above. click the original image and select the "replace image" button. i suggest making sure the images you want to add are a similar style to the original - make the cut-outs from the original into your own cutouts, make the full images from the original your own full images. the titles/hollowed text for each section are done using google drawings. if you'd like to edit them, double click the text, and you'll be in drawings. double click the first letter and change it to the one you'd like, and do the same with the other part of the word. photos in the 'connections' section are also created in drawings. they can be replaced by double clicking the picture, then once you're in drawings you can select the photo, select 'replace image,' and set it to the one you'd like instead. the pink star symbols/emojis are for inserting links. copy your link, highlight the star, click the little 'insert link' button beside the highlighter button, and insert your link. after that you should be good to go! if you have any questions or issues that arise, please let me know. have fun!

[liliesdiary]

➢ Face Of An Angel, Body Of A Porn Star

➢ MASTER LIST

PLAYLIST → Perverted Angel Playlist

SYNOPSIS → Ghostface develops an extreme obsession with you, the infamous porn star named soft angel who so happens to be his classmate. The face of an angel and the body of a porn star.

view in light mode for a better reading experience!

(all endings, multiple parts, dead ends)

➢ [◉°] ⌞ Face Of An Angel ⌝

➢ Angel's Inbox

➢ Dispose Mail?

➢ Wrong Fucking Choice

➢ Chatting With Lovesick Anonymous

➢ Dead End

➢ Keep Chatting With Lovesick Anonymous

➢ Don't Block Him Again.

➢ Lovesick Anonymous Will Remember That

➢ Be My Valentine

➢ Body Of A Porn Star

➢ Living Dove Route

➢ Angel's Inbox

➢ Cancel

➢ Lovesick Doll (coming soon)

➢ Dead Dove Route

➢ Hide In Bathroom

➢ Psycho Killer (coming soon)

🖱️ CLICK TO READ CREDITS & UPDATES 🖱️

જ⁀➴ ♡ recent update! June 20th : hi angels!! I'm sorry that I haven't been updating this series recently, I've been going through writer's block and I've also just been very very busy! but don't worry, lovesick doll and psycho killer are coming very soon and I plan on writing more routes and different little hidden routes/choices throughout the series!! <3

I'm so thankful for all the support and love this fun little series has been getting and I promise that I will continue this series. I'm really glad you guys are loving the interactive choices and different routes! please let me know if there are any routes you would like me to add, I'm very open to suggestions and feedback!

- lily dove <3

જ⁀➴ ♡ most dividers, templates, pngs used in this series were made by: @bernardsbendystraws @nicodefresas @kimjiho1 @dollywons @anitalenia @uncoffins

જ⁀➴ I also used Pinterest for the other dividers, gifs, and templates. I can't find the original creators of some of these templates so if it's yours please let me know so I can credit you! The pink streaming template that says starting soon in the first chapter was made by @moshimochico, I found it on Pinterest <3

જ⁀➴ I used PicsArt as well to create some of the pictures. I use the stickers section of PicsArt to add different things onto the templates and photos I've found from Pinterest or Tumblr.

જ⁀➴ I use Emoji Combos for cute symbols, emoji combos or symbol combos જ⁀➴ key words I use for combos: cute symbols, star symbols, arrows, hearts, divider symbols, coquette, scary/horror symbols

જ⁀➴ I use Lingojam for different fonts, it's a font generator and you can use it for anything! there are a lot of different and unique fonts but I mainly use the fancy or basic ones (you have to scroll a bit to see them)

જ⁀➴ I use bbcode & html text colorizer for the colored text. I only used it for the first chapter for the light faded pink but I do plan on using it more for my future chapters. original tutorial by @hanasnx (can be found in his FAQ) → ✩ bbcode & html text colorizer | follow the prompts -> copy the bottom box aka the "html code" -> go to tumblr on desktop -> create post -> click top right gear for settings -> scroll down to "text editor" to select "html" -> paste your clipboard -> scroll up to the select "html" or "preview" to both edit html and see how it looks after you do.

all parts of this series will be under જ⁀➴ ᴘᴇʀᴠᴇʀᴛᴇᴅ ᴀɴɢᴇʟ