#Like actually go look at the stuff they do

[unabletonotlovesatoru]

i know nanami’s only 27, but i can’t help but think that he’s probably got a lot of “old man” traits that he’s acquired one way or another. maybe life made him that way, maybe he chose to act like he is in his 40s and not late 20s, but either way, having him around would be a very interesting experience to say the least because i’m pretty sure he…

he complains like a seasoned retiree. he’s got that heavy sigh, rubs his temple routine down to an art. the kind of man who mutters, “i’m too old for this,” when he’s only been awake for ten minutes. if you suggest staying out late, he just looks at you like you suggested committing a crime.

he has a very specific way of doing things. nanami doesn’t just go grocery shopping—he has a route. he knows which brands he likes, which cashier is the fastest, and he refuses to go on weekends because “that’s when the amateurs show up.” he folds his laundry a certain way, and god help you if you disrupt his system.

his idea of “treating himself” is so dad-coded. nanami doesn’t do impulse buys—when he does spend money on himself, it’s always something practical. “i finally got those orthopedic insoles” or “this is a quality briefcase; it’ll last a lifetime.” and he probably has one (1) expensive pen that he never lets anyone borrow.

he dresses like he’s ready to scold someone for stepping on his lawn. pressed slacks, polished shoes, dress shirts with the sleeves neatly rolled up. casual wear? good luck catching him in it. even his loungewear is suspiciously put-together—like, who wears an actual button-up pajama set in 2025? nanami kento, that’s who.

he drives like a dad. he never speeds, always uses his turn signal, and complains about “reckless drivers” while driving exactly the speed limit. the kind of man who refuses to start the car until everyone has their seatbelt on.

oh, and dating nanami as someone younger than him would be an experience. he already acts like he’s in his 40s, so the age gap (however small) feels so much bigger because he refuses to let loose. but deep down, he wants to—he just doesn’t know how. so to be in a relationship with him is to get used to stuff like this;

he sighs like he’s raising a teenager. if you stay up too late? heavy sigh. if you forget to bring a jacket? exasperated sigh while taking off his coat to drape over your shoulders. if you tell him about a reckless decision you made? pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs like you just told him you totaled his car. but beneath all that dramatic suffering, there’s genuine care. you might get an “honestly, do you have no sense of self-preservation?” but it’s followed by him adjusting your scarf, making sure your shoelaces are tied, and keeping a steady hand on your back when crossing the street.

he pretends to be annoyed by your energy, but secretly loves it. he acts like your enthusiasm exhausts him, but if you ever stopped being excited around him? he’d miss it desperately. when you drag him to try something new, he’ll complain the whole time (“this is a waste of money”), but afterward, he’ll admit—very quietly—that it wasn’t that bad. he likes how you remind him to enjoy life in ways he never lets himself. he’ll never jump in recklessly, but if you say, “just trust me,” he’ll hesitate… then sigh… then go along with whatever nonsense you’re up to, even if he acts like he’s suffering the entire time.

he acts like a responsible adult, but enables your habits in secret. “you shouldn’t be drinking so much caffeine.” and yet, the next morning, there’s an extra coffee waiting for you. “wasting money on little things adds up.” but somehow, that limited-edition item you wanted just magically appears on your desk. he talks a big game about being responsible, but when it comes to you? he has no self-control.

he takes care of you like an old-fashioned gentleman. he opens doors, walks on the outer side of the sidewalk, and insists on carrying heavy things for you. not because he thinks you can’t—just because he wants to. he likes taking care of you, even if he pretends it’s just out of obligation. if you try to carry something heavy, he just looks at you. doesn’t even say anything. just crosses his arms and waits for you to give up and hand it to him. if you call him a gentleman, he’ll scoff, “that’s just basic decency.” but if you really gush about it, you might catch the tips of his ears turning pink.

he thinks trendy slang is ridiculous. you use modern slang just to see his reaction, and it never fails to make him sigh like he just aged ten years on the spot.

“nanami, be so for real.”

“…so for real what?”

“you should just trust the process.”

“i’d rather not.”

if you ever jokingly call him “king” or “bestie” he’ll give you the look. he pretends he doesn’t care, but if you say something really out of pocket, you might actually get him to break character and let out a very exhausted, “what does that even mean?” (you’re keeping track of all the slang that makes him react the most so you can use it strategically. it’s your favorite game.)

he secretly likes when you cling to him. nanami acts like he’s too mature for overly affectionate behavior, but the first time you loop your arm through his or rest your head against his shoulder in public, he freezes. clears his throat. tries to pretend he doesn’t care—but his hand naturally comes to rest over yours, holding you there like it’s second nature. if you ever hug him from behind or whine “but i missed you,” he won’t admit how fast his heart is beating, but he will sigh and say, “i was gone for twenty minutes.” doesn’t matter. he still lets you cling to him as long as you want.

he plans the most responsible dates, but lets you drag him into chaos. nanami’s idea of a date? a nice dinner, a quiet café, maybe a bookstore. nothing loud, nothing unpredictable. your idea of a date? “let’s go to an arcade.” “let’s take a random train and see where we end up.” “let’s sneak into a rooftop at night.” he knows he should say no. but when you look at him like that? sigh. fine. but if you get into trouble, “i had no part in this.” (he’s definitely bailing you out of trouble five minutes later.)

he absolutely dads you when you get hurt. if you get a tiny scrape? nanami reacts like an overprotective father. “what happened?” “let me see.” “you need to be more careful.” and you’re like, “it’s a paper cut.” but he’s already pulling out a bandaid (which he definitely carries with him, because of course he does). if you ever get seriously hurt? he’s scolding you while carefully patching you up. “you’re too reckless.” “next time, call me.” but his hands are so gentle, and he won’t leave your side until he’s sure you’re okay.

he adores when you fall asleep on him. you knock out on his shoulder? he won’t move. his arm is numb, but he doesn’t dare wake you. if you fall asleep on his lap? his hand naturally comes up to run through your hair. if you curl up in bed and mumble “stay with me,” he’ll sigh, say something about how he has work in the morning… and then stay anyway. and if you ever catch him staring when you wake up? he’ll immediately look away. “you were drooling,” he lies. (he was watching you like you hung the stars.)

he acts like he’s too old for all this, but deep down? nanami loves you more than anything. and if loving you takes years off his life? so be it.

[cosmosluckycharms]

Bug Like Angel

Lonesome Love

You're about a year old when you're dropped off at the manor by your mother, along with your birth certificate and important papers.

She never truly cared for you, so she just left. She couldn't care if she wanted to, she could barely afford you. You sometimes wonder how life would've been if she stayed and cared and hadn't dropped you off at your father's.

Bruce didn't believe he was your actual father, he thought it was someone trying to get money from him.

After some DNA tests, it was confirmed. You were his kid.

Ever since you were little, like most babies, you needed attention.

Unfortunately in a household like this, you believe you won't ever get what you want.

Your father, Bruce Wayne, never had time for you. Always on a mission.

You would try and come up to him and talk to him and try and get him to do stuff with you, like listening to music or anything, you wouldn't mind doing anything as long as it was with your father.

You tried to read fancy newspapers you didn't understand infront of Bruce to get his attention and make yourself look smarter than you are.

All he does is walk away

Tagging along behind him was Richard "Dick" Grayson. Who was supposed to be like an older brother to you.

You would always go up to him and show off, trying to look cool to him or talk to him in general.

It never really worked.

You joined gymnastics when you were 6 in the hopes of getting Dick to talk to you.

All he does is give you a "Good job birdie!" with a ruffle of your hair which you won't complain about since that's the most he's paid attention to you since you got here.

Alfred was the only one you saw and had actual conversations with. He wasn't around as often as he would like to, but he tried his best..!

You would try and join him in baking only for you to mess it up. You thought he would shoo you away but he taught you how to do it well! He wasn't always with you though, he had to go and help your father on his missions.

You feel like you shouldn't complain about the little to no amount of love. You could technically buy anything you wish for You can afford anything you want!

All the fancy clothes and all the toys you wanted! Even your room was huge!You try and stay positive through everything, everything gonna be fine.

When you were 7 years old, Jason Todd was brought into the manor.

You half expected him to brush you off like Dick and Bruce, but to your surprise, he interacted with you!

Despite the 4-year age difference, he and you were inseparable.

He read to you every night, he listened to whatever you said, even if it didn't make sense, he would play whatever with you, and he would even take you out for walks!

He told you all about his school and despite some of the complaints he had, you wanted to go to a real school so badly!

You wanted friends! You wanted to talk to others! After being homeschooled your whole life, you begged your father to please let you go to public school.

...He said no.

You were so sad! why won't he just let you go? After months and months of begging, he finally let you go to private school!

The uniform was itchy and stupid-looking and the people there were kinda rude but still! School!!

After a week or two, you were extremely popular due to your bubbly personality and your being a social butterfly!

You had so many friends, everyone at school liked you being high energy! You loved your elementary school! You were pretty smart too, you had passing grades without even trying! Even if it technically is just an addition...

You were popular with students and teachers! Everyone wanted to play tag with you and race you to the swings and hang on the monkey bars with you and-

Everything was just perfect!

Until it wasn't.

You were 9 when Jason Todd was killed by the Joker.

You sobbed when you realized he wasn't coming back. You hated the Joker. You couldn't understand why.

Why would he do that?whywhywhywhywhyehywhywhywhywhywhywhywh

You don't have anyone to help you. Sure your friends at school exist but they wouldn't understand, you're all children, and most of them have gone through similar things. They wouldnt care.

You cried and threw up so many times.

You just wanted your brother back.

You wanted him to read you a story one more time. To talk to you one more time. To play with him one more time. To see him one more time. justonemoretimepleasepleasepleaseplease

You stopped going to school for a while to mourn. It was 3 weeks before you came back.

▪︎▪︎You were 11 years old when a new robin was introduced

Tim Drake

You tried to talk to him, you did! It's just that he looked so mad whenever you tried to talk to him like you were interrupting even while just existing.

So you stopped. He made you so mad, what made him think he could just take over Jason's legacy?!

You both avoided each other like the plague. There isn't much to be said, other than how you wish you guys could get along.

You're 12 when Jason's back. He's now also avoiding you. You don't understand why. You guys were so close, what happened?

You didn't understand, you've tried so hard for all of them, so why couldn't they just see you for once?

You're done.

You can't do this anymore.

They took Damian in with open arms. Dick got close to him immediately. It feels like everywhere you look they're all together, as a family. You're so sad. You're so mad. You're so tired.

They never cared for you. You tried so hard for them. Perfect grades, multiple hobbies you hate besides one, but it's the one thing you can't get done correctly. Electric guitar.

You're done.

hi guys its me again this is highkey buns but like idk

idk when the next chapter is cominf out isigh BUTBUTBUT im still getting used to this so hi

[kateschi]

explosions in the curtain aisle

synopsis: you and katsuki (after much convincing) are out to buy decorations for your home.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

after spending months merging your lives together as a married couple, you and katsuki are finally taking the plunge to decorate your shared home.

excitement bubbles within you as you navigate the aisles, envisioning how each piece could reflect both of your personalities.

“y/n, how long are we gonna be here?” katsuki complains, arms crossed, his usual fiery demeanor dialed down to a low simmer.

he’s standing a few paces behind you, his foot tapping impatiently on the polished wooden floor.

you turn to him with a playful grin. “just a little longer! we need to find the perfect throw pillow. this is important!”

“important?!” he echoes, incredulity lacing his tone. “they all look the damn same! can’t we just grab one and go? it’s a pillow, not a weapon!”

you laugh, enjoying the banter. “but it has to match the couch! you know how colors work.” you gesture toward a vibrant array of pillows, each one seeming to call your name.

katsuki’s eyes narrow, glancing at the colorful display as if it’s the most boring thing he’s ever seen. “you’re the one with the weird taste in colors. I’m just saying, if it’s ugly, I’m throwing it out the window.”

“fine,” you tease, “but if you pick it out, you have to live with it.”

he huffs, but there’s a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “whatever. just make it quick, or I’m heading to the snack aisle.”

you roll your eyes, knowing that katsuki can be both impatient and stubborn, but you also understand that this shopping trip means more than just picking out a few decorative items.

it’s about creating a home together, a place filled with memories and laughter, and every detail matters.

after a few more minutes of searching, you finally spot a pillow that catches your eye—a rich teal with a textured pattern that perfectly complements your couch.

you pick it up, turning it this way and that, feeling a surge of happiness. “katsuki, look at this one!”

he strides over, feigning disinterest but unable to hide his curiosity. “let me see.” he takes it from your hands, inspecting it with a critical eye. “not bad, I guess.”

you can’t help but beam at his praise, even if it’s gruff. “you really think so?”

“yeah, but if it clashes with my stuff, it’s going in the trash,” he warns, a smirk creeping onto his face.

“promise!” you laugh, nudging him playfully with your shoulder. “I’ll make sure it fits your ‘tough guy’ aesthetic.”

“good,” he replies, but there’s a hint of warmth in his tone. he places the pillow back in your hands and turns to walk away, already scanning for the next item on your list. “now, what’s next? we need some curtains or something.”

you can’t help but feel a rush of affection for him. it’s moments like these—when he pretends to be annoyed yet goes along with your whims—that remind you just how much he cares.

“how about we find some that are a bit more… cozy?” you suggest, your eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

he snorts, shaking his head. “cozy? what are we, grandmas?”

you roll your eyes, laughing softly. “just wait until you see them. you might actually like them!”

katsuki raises an eyebrow. “yeah, right. but I guess I’ll humor you. lead the way.”

you guide him to the next aisle, the soft rustle of fabric creating a comforting ambiance.

you sift through various curtain styles, holding up a set that features a delicate floral pattern. “what do you think about these?”

katsuki glances at them, his expression unreadable. “they’re… fine, I guess. but are they durable? I’m not having some flimsy stuff that’ll tear the first time I brush against it.”

you chuckle at his practicality, appreciating that he wants your home to feel strong and safe, just like him. “they’re made of durable material. plus, they’ll let in a lot of light.”

he tilts his head, still unsure.

you laugh again. “we can always return them if they don’t work out. and just think of how nice they’ll look with the pillow!”

he pretends to consider it seriously, squinting at the curtains as if they hold the key to world peace. “fine, fine. let’s get them.” he then turns to you with a quick glance, “you will not hang them.”

“oh, I don’t mind,” you giggle, as you lean in closer, lowering your voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “you will look so good hanging them up in your ‘tough guy’ way, husband.”

katsuki’s lips twitch, and for a moment, you think you can see the tip of his ears turn a soft shade of pink. “shut up,” he mumbles, though there’s no real irritation behind his words.

with the curtains selected and the throw pillow secured, you both meander through the store, stopping occasionally to admire various decorative pieces.

you find a small potted plant and hold it up, grinning. “what about this? it’ll add some life to the space.”

katsuki raises an eyebrow, eyeing the plant. “you think you can keep it alive? remember that one time with that cactus?”

you wince at the memory, laughing sheepishly. “okay, I admit I’m not great with plants. but this one seems low-maintenance!”

“yeah, sure, but if it dies, I’m blaming you.”

“I’ll take full responsibility!” you promise, huffing. you don’t see your husband’s eyes lookting at you with subtle fondness, while you place the potted plant into the cart.

finally, as you reach the checkout, you feel a sense of accomplishment.

katsuki stands beside you, the small plant in hand while you juggle the curtains and pillow. “not bad for a day’s work,” you say, looking up at him.

he nods, a satisfied grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “yeah, I guess it’s alright.”

as you both head outside, katsuki glances at the bags in your hands, then turns to you, takes the bags, his expression softening in that rare way that only you ever get to see.

“let’s get outta here,” he mutters, running his empty hand hand through his hair. “this shopping crap’s a waste of time.”

you laugh, slipping your hand into his. “you did great, hubby.”

he grumbles, but despite that, he doesn’t let go of your hand, his grip tightening just slightly as you walk together out of the store.

you can’t help but smile at the simple gesture, so you squeeze his hand lightly.

as you approach the car, katsuki pauses, turning to you. “hey,” he starts, looking a bit bashful. “you really love this stuff, don’t you?”

“of course! it’s our home, after all,” you reply.

“then… I guess it’s worth it,” he mutters, scratching the back of his head. “just don’t make me do this every weekend.”

you chuckle, squeezing his hand. “no promises, but I’ll make sure to keep it interesting.”

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[secondbeatsongs]

Food Crime: Frosty the Slawman

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

lookit that guy! he's a real guy!

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

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

the more you know!

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

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

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

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

for now: we begin

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

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

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

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

surely this will result in a reasonable amount of Man

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

mmm, yes. very smooth

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

a new discovery is made every day in this house.

okay, time to start mixing things together.

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

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

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

lastly: the cabbage

oh. oh this is not very nice

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

ah. this bowl is too big.

hey, these'll work!

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

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

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

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

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

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

let's build our boy

oh he's so heavy. and wobbly

no no no he almost fell over!!

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

and...okay. he is complete.

behold!

gaze upon my beautiful man!

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

 now it's time to stab him

and...to devour him

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

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

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

...I don't like this!

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

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

(note from current!me: I could not.

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

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

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

bad. the answer is: bad.

I threw him out pretty quickly after thawing him.

do not try this recipe at home)

[wakayrd]

More theatre stuff! I've started to put all the theatre doodles I do under a tag called "isat curtain call" because I wanted to be organized lol

MIRABELLE! Mirabelle is kind of a powerhouse at the theatre. She acts in a lot of the plays they put on (and gets really nervous before going on stage). She has lots of folks who are her neighbors or friends who attend shows and always overwhelm her with tons of flowers. She appreciates it but it can be a bit much! She's always around to help- She will show up for set construction, set decor, lighting design... anything- and all on top of acting! She's even the theatre's health and safety rep! (the little bit at the bottom is inspired by true events... yeah...)

Bonnie!! Bonnie started volunteering with the theatre recently after coming to see a pantomime for Peter Pan. They love to help out with the snack bar, and even wear nice clothing for the shows to look all professional. They also usher sometimes! All with adult supervision of course. They are allowed to come help with set decor (painting the set!) but NOT set construction. They sometimes convince their older sister to stop by the theatre when everyone else is working to drop off homemade goodies. They also like to hang out in the sound/light booth, the stage looks so different from up there! They're close with Odile, who shows them a ton of stuff. They hope that sometime they can also start doing the light cues during a show. They don't want to work near Siffrin backstage, even though that's something they could perhaps start doing now.

Sometimes... it feels like there's something in the theatre, hanging out in the catwalks, judging silently. Maybe... someone... But if you turn around to see them, they're gone! The theatre might be haunted, who knows. That seems the most plausible theory... Siffrin tends to spend a lot of time on the catwalks as well. Perhaps he'd know more about this mysterious spirit of the theatre?

The Spirit of the Theatre! (Loop!) They're always around. They're actually convinced that they're not able to leave the theatre. The hat? They stole it from the costume room! It makes hiding that glow ever so easy- Sometimes they steal coats or matching robes from there, just to make hiding easier. They're so knowledgeable in all things theatre, especially the theatre the group operates out of. Sometimes they spend their time alone at the theatre straightening up the props room or making sure all the actor's props and costumes are in their proper places. It really seems like they consider themselves an integral (and invisible) part of the team. They like to watch from afar, that's all. Meeting Siffrin was an accident, one that The Spirit of the Theatre couldn't avoid. Now they have to deal with Siffrin coming to talk to them often, even looking for advice. It's unclear how long they've been there, and when asked for a name, will only say they're the "Spirit of the Theatre."

And that's it from me today I promise I am normal lol I am having fun watching this all form in front of my eyes a little. It's mostly silly goofy stuff and as much as I'd love to stick to canon best I can, I may have to fiddle with it to get it to make sense... especially for Loop :) but if you have any ideas or stuff my inbox is so open I love talking about this- these drawings were stacked up from the last couple of days just me preparing to post... teehee!!

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Special Delivery

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Wife!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, possessive Simon, arguments, annoyance (spouse and nonspouse annoyance)

Author’s Note: Simon forgot some stuff at home, you are a firecracker if anyone has ever seen one so here we are. Inspired by one of my favs @bi-writes and her younger!wife x John Price fic

Masterlist | Bi’s Fanfic

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

It starts with a text.

My Ghostie: Forgot my wallet.

Then another.

My Ghostie: And my lunch.

And another.

My Ghostie: ...And the file on my desk.

You stare at your phone, lips pressing into a flat line. Unbelievable. You love your husband, truly, but some days? Some days he tests your patience.

With a sigh, you gather everything—his wallet, his carefully packed lunch, and the stupid file he swore he wouldn’t forget—before grabbing your keys. You could ignore it, let him suffer, but you both know you won’t.

Which is how you find yourself at the base entrance, staring down a soldier who looks entirely unimpressed with your existence. Arms crossed, legs planted apart, like he’s guarding the last bastion of civilization.

“I can’t just let you in, ma’am.” His voice is flat, bored, like this is the most mundane problem he’s dealt with all day.

You, on the other hand, are vibrating with irritation. “Look,” you huff, adjusting the duffel bag on your shoulder and waving the brown paper lunch bag in your other hand. “I’m not some crazy stalker trying to infiltrate your little clubhouse. My husband, Simon Riley, left his wallet, his lunch, and some other important stuff at home, and I’m just here to drop it off.”

The guard doesn’t budge. “Can’t confirm that without proper clearance.”

Your patience is wearing thin. You exhale sharply, then, with slow, deliberate movements, hold up a very distinct leather wallet between two fingers and shake it slightly. “Alright, genius, let’s use some logic. If I wasn’t supposed to be here, do you think I’d just so happen to have Ghost’s actual shit?”

The man hesitates, clearly uncertain. “That… that could belong to anyone—”

“Oh my God,” you groan, resisting the urge to fling the wallet at him. “If I was trying to sneak onto base, don’t you think I’d pick something a little less obvious?”

You go in for the kill. Flipping open the wallet, you shove it right into his face. “Does that look like just anyone to you?”

The poor bastard leans in, eyes locking onto the ID tucked inside. His face blanches.

It’s right there. Simon’s name. Simon’s face. Your husband’s face.

“…I mean, I still can’t—”

You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Alright, listen here, Private Dumbass.” You shift your stance, letting the overhead lights catch the big-ass rock sitting pretty on your ring finger. You tap it against the metal of the gate for good measure. *Clink, clink.* “See this? This means I can make your life very difficult.”

The man stiffens. You decide to twist the knife. “I may not have rank here, but I am married to a lieutenant. And if you don’t let me through in the next ten seconds, I will personally make it my mission to have you running laps around this base until your legs fall off.”

He stares at you like you’ve grown a second head. “You… you can’t do that.”

You smirk. “You sure about that? ’Cause my husband definitely can.”

That does it. With a sigh, he gestures for another soldier to let you through. “Fine, fine. Go.”

“Damn right,” you mutter, marching past him with your head held high.

Smart man.

——

After waiting at the gate for so long, you storm onto the base with a paper bag in one hand and a duffel slung over your shoulder, exuding confidence as your boots click against the concrete. The guards barely had time to stop you before a sharp-tongued remark had them stepping aside, unsure if they were more intimidated by your presence or impressed by your sheer audacity.

Simon’s dumbass forgot his lunch, his wallet, and a few other essentials, and you’ll be damned if he goes without just because he’s too stubborn to admit he needs you. He might be the terrifying "Ghost" to everyone else, but to you, he’s just your husband—the same man who forgets his keys and leaves his socks all over the damn house.

Walking into the common area is like stepping into a lion’s den—if lions had the audacity to gawk at you like a bunch of wide-eyed recruits seeing their drill sergeant off duty for the first time. A few soldiers are loitering, some cleaning their gear, others playing cards, but the moment they spot you, their focus shifts. You can practically hear their thoughts.

Who the hell is this?

Why does she look like she owns the place?

Did we miss a briefing?

The most unsubtle reaction comes from a particularly cheeky Scot lounging with his feet kicked up on a chair.

“Well, now,” Soap drawls, an impish grin spreading across his face. “And who might you be?”

You don’t bother stopping. “Not in the mood, Braveheart. Where’s Simon?”

Soap lets out a low whistle. “Oi, no need to be feisty, lass. Maybe if ye tell me who ye are, I can help.”

You sigh, shift the duffel on your shoulder, and lift your left hand just enough for the overhead light to catch on the massive wedding ring decorating your finger.

“His wife.”

The room goes silent.

Soap’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline. His mouth opens, closes, then—“No shit.”

“No shit,” you confirm dryly. “And unless you lot want to deal with a grumpy, starving Ghost, you’ll tell me where he is. Now.”

Before anyone can answer, a deep, familiar voice rumbles through the space.

“Don’t need to.”

The effect is instant. The tension in the room shifts as every soldier in the vicinity straightens instinctively.

You turn just as Simon strides in, the mask covering his face doing nothing to hide the sheer command he carries with every step. He looks at you, and even though his expression is unreadable, you feel the weight of his gaze.

“The hell are you doin’ here?”

You plant a hand on your hip, tilting your chin up. “Bringing you your shit.” You shove the paper bag into his chest before shrugging the duffel off your shoulder and letting it drop at his feet. “Your lunch. Your wallet. And the file you swore up and down you wouldn’t forget.”

Simon catches everything with practiced ease, his gaze dropping briefly to the items before flicking back to you. “…I would’ve managed.”

You snort. “Yeah? And by ‘managed,’ you mean sulking around all day, hangry as hell, making everyone else suffer for it?”

A muffled snicker comes from Soap. Simon’s head *slowly* turns toward him. The room collectively holds its breath.

Soap lifts his hands innocently. “What? She’s got a point.”

You smirk, smug. “See? Even he agrees with me.”

Simon exhales sharply, a sound you know is the closest thing to a fond sigh. Then, before you can react, he hooks a hand around your waist and tugs you in, pressing your body flush against his. It’s firm, grounding, and entirely possessive. His fingers spread wide over the small of your back, holding you there like he’s making sure you’re real.

“You shouldn’t’ve come all this way,” he mutters, voice softer now.

“You love when I show up unannounced.”

His grip tightens slightly. You know you’ve won. His hand moves to your hip, pulling you even closer if that was possible. His touch was firm but gentle, grounding you in a sense. You tilt your head up at him, grinning. “Besides, I know you missed me.”

“You’re a pain in my ass,” he rumbles, though there’s no real heat behind it.

“And you’re lucky I love your grumpy ass.” You grin up at him, reaching up to brush your fingers over the side of his mask. “Eat your lunch, alright? I made sure it’s still warm.”

A long beat passes before Simon finally responds.

“…Yeah. Alright.”

Soap mutters something under his breath, and Simon growls, “MacTavish, if you don’t shut it—”

But before he can finish, you press a quick kiss to his mask-covered cheek. His grip tightens slightly, and you catch the subtle shift in his stance. Oh yeah, he missed you.

“Well, my work here is done,” you say, stepping back with a playful salute. “Try not to forget anything else next time, yeah?”

Simon grunts, his version of a reluctant thank you. But as you turn to leave, you hear him mutter, “Get home safe, love.”

As you turn to leave, you call to your husband, “Oh, by the way—told the guy at the gate he’s gotta run laps for giving me a hard time. Make sure he actually does it, yeah?”

You shoot him a wink over your shoulder before strutting out, leaving a room full of stunned soldiers—and one very flustered Ghost—behind.

You don’t stay to hear the response, but you do catch the sound of Soap absolutely losing it as you step out the door.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[the-ladyrae]

I recently met a girl on Bumble, and I'm mad as hell about it because she lives less than half a mile away from me.

(Which I'm aware is like the opposite of a problem. RIP literally every other lesbian dealing with long distance. It is a privilege for me to be able to take a leisurely stroll to my gf's place [and there's a grocery store at the half way point of the walk so I can stop in and buy her flowers and snacks] and be there in no more than 15 minutes)

Anyway, I'm mad about it because I also loudly decry the effects dating apps have on human courting rituals. The comodification of intimacy to the degree of when people think of meeting someone now a days we don't think of going out to a bar, or dancing, or complimenting an interesting stranger in public. In most cases, we've actually begun to shun these things! The evolution of this in my mind began with the statement of "Women don't want to be approached in public." And for the most part, that holds true. We don't want to be bothered at work, where we have to be nice to you or risk getting fired. Or when we're out doing errands, grocery shopping, laundrymatt, whatever she's just trying to get some stuff done, leave her alone. Or at the gym, where the mindset is not really aligned with that activity. Or at the bar, we came together we leave together and keep an eye out someone might try to put something in your drink.

OK, wait, but back-up, I thought it was acceptable to approach women in social situations?

Well, it was, but doesn't that sound scary? You don't know that person that just came up to you and asked for your number. What if they're a serial killer, unlikely but wouldn't you rather have the opportunity to look into that first? Check their references so to speak.

I mean sure that sounds like a good thing, but how is this safer? I'm essentially doing what my parents told me not to my entire childhood, and meeting up with strangers from the internet.

Sure sure, sure, but this is different! We're providing a safe space where everyone is up front about who they are and their intentions! You can find exactly what you're looking for with all our magical filters (some might cost you a bit, but don't think about that yet). And then here's the kicker you can talk to them before you meet up in our messaging function, take an appropriate amount of time to learn everything you can and decide if this person is trustworthy enough to meet in person. That sounds nice doesn't it?

I guess I do like the idea of having a designated space where I know it's acceptable to approach an individual! And I mean how hard can it be to navigate one app?

Oh sorry I forgot to mention this part. It's not just one app there are like half a dozen major players that everyone kinda cycles through so you'll have to have all of them to play the field and increase the odds of you finding your one. And also because of the nature of us now giving you a haystack of options when you're looking for a needle you'll have to weed out like a dozen people at a time reality TV harem dating show style, while they do the same to you.

That doesn't exactly sound like a better system... But it clearly is, because of this system I met someone, didn't I? Well yes, but she lives half a mile away in the same neighborhood. We shop at the same grocery store, go to the same bars, have similar interests in general, and are both reasonably visibly distinct from a crowd (she's got bright pink hair, I'm a 6'1" femme who can't dress casual to save her life)

And we've both lived in this area for months without even noticing each other even though we're exactly each other's type. I don't know if any of that really made sense, but I think the point is that the dating apps are only fixing barriers to connection that they created. They are only solving problems they created, and we're paying them for it.

tumblr please stop showing me dating apps ads. i'll meet girls the old way; never

[cosmosluckycharms]

Showtime☆

Lullaby In Blue

When you finally get to the manor, it's dark out.

You were so sleepy. You just wanted your momma. You just wanted your grandpa.

You assume that when you get home, your father will take you in with open arms and talk as sweetly as your momma said.

Unfortunately for you, unlike how momma described him, he's cold and hard to decipher...

You look up at him in a mix of curiosity and excitement. He looked so cool! he was wearing a fancy outfit and he just looked so cool! The only thing that threw you off was how he looked so.....tired.

"WOAH!! You look so cool! Are you my dad? Momma has said so many good things about you! How about that one time when you-" He cut you off.

"Alfred, show her to her room if you will." he started walking away.

Your heart broke a little at that, but it's okay! You win him over sometime! For now, you need a nap.

Alfred walks you to your room while profusely apologizing about Bruce.

You walk into your room. And it's clear they didn't do much research on you...

The toys were better suited for a kid younger than you, maybe around 4 or 5 years old.

You don't complain though, the room is huge and you have a bigger bed than you can imagine!

You have your bedroom and walk-in closet! Alfred says to sleep and tomorrow they'll sort out the room and make it more for you.

The next morning you wake up and decide to unpack a bit.

You didn't have much, just a few clothing items, jewelry from your momma, a few picture frames, and some of momma's old stuff such as paintings and her cassettes of movies.

As soon as you finished unpacking Alfred came to call you down for breakfast.

You go downstairs to see at the table your father, a boy around 23 with black hair, and another boy who looked around 18 years old with also black hair with a white patch.

You introduced yourself to them like your momma taught you.

"Hello!! im Y/N L/N!!! Well, actually I don't know about L/N now because technically he is my dad," you point to Bruce. "I'm kinda hungry," before you could continue with your ramble Alfred shut you up with a plate of pancakes in front of you.

It's clear to everyone but you that 7 in the morning is too early to be this hyper and nonsensical.

"Oo! pancakes! I love pancakes! They're my favorite! My grandpa makes it from scratch-" You pause for a second, a very slight stop that makes your eyes water up a little.

No one could notice it.

Well besides the literal detectives sitting at the table.

You continued rambling for a bit before Alfred mentioned a playground in the backyard, recently designed for you.

"WOAH that's so cool! Can I go play on it? Please?" you made sure to drag the 'e' in 'please', that's how it always worked on momma.

He allowed you to and you quickly got off your chair.

You were about to play outside before realizing you were nowhere near ready to play outside, you still had your PJs on, and your fuzzy socks!

You ran to your room to get ready for the day, which was difficult because momma would always help usually

You were trying not to look sad, you shouldn't be sad. You should be thankful for all the things they're doing for you.

After a couple of hours of playing on the mini playground, you got tired.

You decided to get back inside and eat.

You went inside and saw it was empty. You decided to go into your room and take a nap.

You walked in and realized you forgot to go shopping with Alfred! All the things in your room were baby things, and you only had two other pairs of clothes to wear!

You didn't mind though.

You lay down on the carpet and fell asleep immediately.

It wouldn't hurt to sleep for a while...

You woke up a couple of hours later.

You woke up silently crying, you had a dream about the day you and your momma and grandpa went to a theme park.

You couldn't remember much about the dream, only that you had so much fun.

You don't know why you're crying, you had a great time, did you not?

You didn't understand. This shouldn't be happening.

To calm yourself down, you started humming the lullaby your momma sang to you.

It worked slightly.

You decided to get up and eat, you were hungry and hadn't eaten earlier.

You went downstairs and saw a boy no older than 15 eating a bowl of cereal.

You hadn't met him yet, so you tried to introduce yourself to him!"HELLO! My name is Y/n l/n!!!!! What's your name??"

Unfortunately for you, you caught him at a bad time. He had been working on a case since 7:30 am and this was his break.

"Leave me alone," he said, in a obviously tired tone.

Well, obvious to everyone but you.

You continued asking him questions, only for him to ignore you, grab the bowl of cereal, and walk away to his room.

You looked at him with a confused look on your face.

Your stomach rumbled a bit before you snapped out of it and grabbed yourself a bowl of cereal too.

You ate alone at the table.

The next day while outside in the garden, you saw a boy playing with a dog.

The dog looked so cute! You decided to talk to the boy.

"HELLO!! Im y/n l/n!! it's nice to meet you!!"

You started asking him a lot of questions, like what his name was, what the dog's name was, are you guys were siblings, and more!!

The excitement you had to meet others was overwhelming to some people.

He ended up getting the dog to chase you away.

You ran to your room and stayed there the entire day.

You wanna go home.

You ended up finding out their names at one point or another.

The 23-year-old one was Richard "Dick" Grayson, the 18-year-old one was Jason Todd, the one that shooed you away while eating cereal was Timothy "Tim" Drake, and the boy who got his dog to chase you was Damian Wayne.

You don't understand why they didn't want you, you weren't mean or evil like those villains you saw in the books momma read you, so why did they not want you?

You tried getting into hobbies you didn't care about so you guys could talk about them.

You joined a book club, which you kind of disliked since it was so quiet.

You joined gymnastics, which you were good at and kind of enjoyed, it did help you get your energy out, though!

You tried coding, which you didn't like at all.

You tried art, which you were okay at.

Nothing really stuck!

And it's not like it helped with getting your family to notice you.

It didn't matter to them, they had Gotham to help.

You didn't have actual hobbies or interests for a while.

Not until you were 12.

You had signed up for theater in middle school, and the teacher was nice enough to take you all on a field trip to a play.

It changed your life.

You knew immediately that that's what you wanted to do.

You wanted to spread smiles, just like how this play had spread joy to you and others.

You wanted to perform on stage for others!

You knew this was what you wanted!

As soon as you got home you asked Alfred if for your birthday you could have a stage.

One that was going to be demolished soon due to not bringing in any money.

He decided to think about it.

It was a strange request coming from you.

You never really asked for things like this.

You never really asked for non-neccesities at all!

But he decided to not think about it too hard.

feeding my like 2 emu!reader enjoyers lmfao

oml this took so long

guys lowk im so tired

anyways this is ass

taglist:

@shirp-collector-of-fixations @maybeethan69 @iluvcatzz @tacendxx @ninihrtss

[natalicss]

Like We Were In Paris II

kwon ji-yong x american pop star!reader

part one

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

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

word count: 4.9K

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

tag list: @infinetlyforgotten @petersasteria

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

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

Y/N

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

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

Ji<3

Thank you, Aein, you look beautiful!

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jagiya, you’re worrying me,” 

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you,”

“I love you more.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ji<3

You’re the most beautiful one here

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

Y/N

Says you<3 I love you

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. 

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[specialgradefckr]

it's been a long day for you, nerd gojo's personal bully.

shoving gojo into a locker. him getting a boner because he's a freak. locking him in there and having to pull him out.

by the time you arrive at your part-time job, you're already ready for the shift to be over. scan some items, restock some stuff, sweep and clean and clock right out.

unfortunately, today, you have a visitor.

a familiar voice saying your name. which you still haven't told him he could use.

you try not to make eye contact. it's so uncomfortable, so cringey.

why did a rich kid like him even go to shitty convenience stores like this? was his private chef taking a 15 minute break?

you feel heat rising in your cheeks. desperately you wish for him to just leave, to not talk at all, but even if he did he'd probably talk to you at school about it -

"earth to - AHEM! hello! it's nice to see you, i didn't know you worked here!" gojo chirps, lounging in front of your cash register.

he's dumped a giant pile of treats on there. knowing him, he'd eat all of them, too.

you notice one of your favorites in the pile... now you're even more hungry. the last thing you ate was the lunch you normally steal from gojo, because he screwed up getting you a snack from a vending machine.

there's nothing at home, and you're saving money to go to college, you can't waste money on premade food.

he notices your scowl and giggles. not a chuckle, a giggle. god, he's so lame.

"what's wroooong?" gojo drawls, or tries to. but he's so lame he just looks stupid. then again, he always looks stupid.

leaning over the counter, he tries to lower his head enough to look up at your face as you scan the items. "heheh... you're mad 'cause you can't bully me?"

you're struck by the unpleasant sight of his stupid weird face staring up at you with his big weird eyes. his stupid sunglasses (it's night time. loser.) sliding down his nose.

it must show on your face. "come on! you gotta be nice to me! i'm a paying customer!"

gojo's face has always had this really punchable quality to it, one that made it hard to look away from. but he's never been quite as punchable as he is right now.

you feel your cheeks heat up. from the proximity, of course.

"your total is-" you begin very loudly, enough for him to jump back suddenly.

he twists his mouth, handing you his card, "come ooooon. you don't wanna talk? you're free right now!" he gestures to the completely empty store, "wanna come snack with me?"

you do, actually, but that would require spending time with his insufferable ass, and also agreeing with him.

"i'm on the clock, you moron," you snap, scanning his card and handing him his receipt, "get lost. and don't come here again."

you put his things in a bag and hand them to him. he sighs, pulling something out - coincidentally, the treat you'd been eyeing earlier.

"come on, really?" he whines, like the whiner he is. you don't respond.

he takes a long moment biting into it. making eye contact with you.

(well, he's trying to. you aren't willing to torment yourself with the sight of his ugly mug any longer.)

he starts sort of. side-stepping his way out, in the lamest way possible, shuffling so he can keep looking at you until he's at the door.

freak.

when he's at the door, he sighs as if greatly put upon. "see you tomorrow!" he calls out, which you ignore, "same place, same time~"

you ignore this too. right up until you see him discard his half-eaten treat straight into the garbage while he pushes the door open to exit.

and, well. maybe it's because you're hungry. maybe it's because he says he'll come again.

maybe it's just your natural killer instincts as a bully.

you dart past the counter, snatching satoru by the arm and yanking him back into the store. right next to the trash can.

"whoa, whOA, what - "

"pick it back up."

gojo blinks his big blue dumb eyes at you. "what?"

"you didn't finish eating it," you shove him so he's leaning over the trash can, "pick it up."

"you can't be seri-"

you shove his head straight into the trash can, and gojo yelps, muffled.

"hey! hey! let me out, let me out, i'll get it-"

you hold his head down as he struggles against you (weakly, like the lanky nerd loser he is), until his crying starts to grate on your nerves.

"pick it up with your mouth."

"what?" he's still muffled, "with my mouth? that's so gross-"

"do it, nerd," you seethe, shoving his face further into the trash until you hear a crushing sound.

"okay okay! let me up a little, i'll do it, i'll do it!"

you barely hear him through the trash his face is now buried in. huh, you did need to empty the trash can soon. you'll have him do that next.

so much for being nice to your customer.

...no one will check the security cameras, right?

giving gojo just barely enough room to move around, you wait a moment until he starts to grunt and pull his head back up.

when you let him go, he's got the half-eaten snack in his mouth, like a dog with a treat.

he is kind of like a dog, isn't he?

gojo quickly takes it out of his mouth to complain, but you shove it right back in.

"finish it." you glower.

he doesn't argue with you anymore, quietly eating while his face is red and sticky. he sniffles a little, like a pathetic puppy digging for sympathy.

"what's the big deal," he mutters, "it's just cheap junk food."

you can almost feel your stomach growling. you try to pretend you don't hear-

"oh, are you hungry?" gojo brightens noticeably, "we can go out, my treat-"

the fury of a thousand suns rains upon him in the form of your glare. "finish it."

he swallows. quickly eats the rest of the treat. "there! do you wanna-"

"and take the trash out," you say, striding back to the desk, looking for the trash bags.

"what? isn't that your job?" gojo whines as he obediently pulls the bag out.

for once in his worthless existence, he is correct, but this is immaterial, because he is also stupid, and annoying, and the least he can do is make up for it by taking this task off your hands.

"do. it." gojo rushes out with the trash. he's back in just a few seconds.

by then you've put the new bag in, and you put a hand on his chest as he tries to enter through the door.

"okay, good enough. get lost, nerd."

gojo's face reddens, his eyes flicking down to your hand on his chest, and then your eyes.

what's up with him? his shoulders shift and for a moment you feel his chest flex, like there's any muscle on his scrawny -

shoving him back, you turn straight around, darting right to the counter and quickly grabbing some random items from underneath the front desk to stock.

you don't look up from under the table until you hear the door close.

...

...

...ugh. it's warm in here.

"i'm telling you. suguru, it's SUPER EFFECTIVE!" "dude, there's no way this lame ass flexing impressed her." "what do you mean lame? not every girl likes muscles that are huge, suguru! they're noticeable, but not overt. very mindful, very demure." "this is why she bullies you, satoru." "i'm lean. elegant. gracefu- WHOA!" "heh. graceful, right?" "you literally tripped me! anyways. she was blushing! it was the cutest thing ever! she put her hand on my chest-" "willingly? i doubt it." "she DID! and then i flexed for her and she turned around immediately-" "now that i believe." "but before she did, i swear i saw her blush! i'm getting through to her, suguru! our relationship is getting closer by the day!" "ugh... you could start a cult with this level of delusion." "oh my god, should i? i could dedicate it entirely to her! do you think she'd be into that? i think she would, but she's too tsundere to admit it, hehe... i could build a shrine." (suguru is starting to think satoru is not the victim in this relationship.)

[crazy-pages]

Speaking of which, the longer I've been around on this Earth the more I have started to notice what I like to call "motivated worrying". This is when somebody has legitimate seeming worries that an intervention might actually make things worse, but there's secretly a pattern to the things they're worried about.

With healthcare, you will find a lot of centrists who are worried that universal healthcare will be too expensive and the taxes involved will actually make people worse off on average. Similarly, you will find centrists who are worried about harm reduction drug programs increasing the number of addicts. Who are worried that if you give money to homeless people, they will use it on drugs and actually end up being worse off. They will be worried that increasing the corporate tax rate will grind the economy to halt.

And the thing is, even the more obviously incorrect worries will appear to come from a sincere place. They might actually come from a sincere place. Now if they bothered to look up any of this stuff, whether that means taking a detailed look at iniversal healthcare programs around the world or looking up the data on homeless aid interventions, but even that can be justified. Most people don't look up this stuff all the time.

But the key thing which makes motivated worrying disingenuous is what gets worried about.

It doesn't take long to notice when talking to a centrist, if you are paying attention, that this worrying never gets applied to the existing status quo, or to actions which might help marginalize people either. Centrists will worry until the cows come home about whether it's "safe" for trans students to participate in sports ... but not about if it's safe to pass exclusionary laws targeting people who frequently experience hate crimes. They will worry about if a left-wing party pandering to progressives might lose them conservative votes, but rarely about if pandering to conservatives will lose them progressive votes. And when it comes to things they don't want to do anyway, the worrying never gets resolved. It never becomes something which is worth looking into.

This can be very subtle because these worries often concern legitimate possibilities, or at least things which could understandably be seen as legitimate possibilities. And most people at some point go through a phase where they are worrying for a problem but haven't yet sunk their teeth into understanding it. The trick with centrism that this phase of worrying about something without having resolved that worry gets stretched out forever, and applied to every positive intervention under the sun.

[taffywabbit]

taffy, do you have any tips on how to get motivation to draw when adhd makes focusing or even just starting on it hard?

youre one of my favorite artists and hearing you have adhd too made me feel a bit better abt my struggles with it

hmmm. I mean even after I started finally getting medicated for it I still struggled with this so I don't know if I have any GREAT tips lol, but here's some stuff that seems to help me:

- keep a list somewhere of ideas you wanna draw or techniques/styles you wanna practice or whatever, so you can add stuff to the list whenever you randomly think of it

- find ways to get yourself into Art Focus Mode, like a flow state or hyperfocus or whatever. for me that usually means making sure my water is full, eating a snack, wrapping my lower body in a blanket (my apartment is always a little chilly), and either joining a discord call with some friends (often screensharing so I feel sorta accountable if I get distracted and stop drawing) or just closing social media tabs and pulling up music/video essays/stream VODs/etc. the point of any of this is largely to make it harder to randomly get up and do other stuff if I don't actually need to. I'm at my desk and I'm drawing, it's happening, I'm locking in

- if you have something you NEED to draw (like me with commission work) and you can't find the motivation to just jump into that right away, this is where your list comes in. look at it and find something that currently interests you to draw (either fully or at least just starting it) and try drawing that first for a bit. then once you're kinda already in the art mindset, you can pivot over to the Art Task and it's usually a bit easier than jumping in raw. (setting a timer may also be helpful if you find your warmup drawings end up going on too long)

- this one might be a bit more of a me thing and specific to my workflow, but I also like keeping a little stopwatch app in the corner of my screen while I'm working so I know how long I've been drawing for. it's good for keeping track of how long I spend on commissions relative to how much I'm getting paid so I stay roughly within my "time budget", but it's more immediately helpful for just making sure I take breaks when I notice I've been working for a couple hours already. taking breaks often feels counterintuitive to the whole process of trying to induce hyperfocus, but you GOTTA take them or your bones will explode, so make them structured and make them count. get a snack, walk around, stretch, whatever you gotta do, and then restart the process and get back to drawing (and remember to unpause your timer lol)

that's all I can think of right now! hopefully some of this is helpful!

[08crll]

🎨💐 246; GYEONG-SEOK HEADCANONS.

sfw & nsfw! <3

desc: 1.9k words. i NEED this man, i wish he was real. an angel loses its wings everytime this man gets written ooc 💔 so hopefully this one is in character.

sfw. gender-neutral!reader.

★ this man LOOOOVES cuddles. look at him. it doesn’t matter if you prefer being the big spoon or the Iittle spoon一he just wants to feel you close to him before he sleeps and when he wakes up.

★ he's probably a little touch starved too. but he would never say it, not because he doesn’t want to appear weak or anything, he just doesn’t want to scare you away.

★ if u were to ask him what his love language was, he’d say it was quality time or acts of service but, really, that’s only what be wants to provide that for his partner. what he really want is physical touchh:( and words of affirmation!!

★ crafty guy. he would make u cards, letters and those paper origami flowers. it doesn't even have to be on special occasions, sometimes you just come home from your work and he surprises you with a new paper craft he discovered. made out of anything he could recycle. be it a receipt, a paper bag, newspaper.

★ very touchy. but not in a bad way. always asking if you're okay with it.

★ this man probably gets all flushed and shy when you call him handsome.

call him your good looking boy and he already has that sweet smile you always loved to see. burying his face on your shoulder as you run your fingers through his hair.

“what’s with all your sweet words?” his voice muffled by your shirt. you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“can i not call you handsome?”

“aahh.. quit it,” he rolled his eyes, pushing you down the couch and peppering your face with kisses.

★ loves hugging you from behind, especially when you cook or you’re at the grocery store. you’d be looking at the list of things you needed to restock on while he pushed the cart not too far behind you.

was it powder or liquid detergent? you thought to yourself, pulling out the list from the back pocket of your pants. then, out of nowhere do you feel arms around your waist, warm hands settling on your hips. “where's our cart?” you murmured with a smile. gosh, you were just starting to freeze under the cold air conditioner of this damn store.

“its fine. ‘just right behind us,” gyeong-seok reassures you as he rests his chin on your shoulder. he really couldn’t care less if people stare. he wants them to see how much he loves you. “is this okay..?” he whispered, his breath tickling your jaw.

you just chuckle, not bothering to give him a verbal response. instead, you lean back into his touch. your back pressed against his chest. his lips curled into a sheepish smile, pulling his head up to place a soft kiss on that sensitive spot of your neck.

★ definitely has multiple drawings and doodles of you in his sketchpad. never shows you because he’s afraid you might think he’s being a bit much.

★ musician!reader & him? perfect pair. art recognises art! when he hears you playing your instrument in a different room, he immediately drops whatever he’s doing and carefully walks to where you were to watch you do your stuff. if na-yeon is home, he’d definitely bring her with him.

★ always has his eyes on you even during times when he probably shouldn’t, like when the two of you are having a conversation with na-yeon’s teacher about how well she’s been doing in her classes. or when you were having dinner with your parents. you were explaining how you met him and he just admires you like he’s looking at you for the very first time.

★ adding onto the previous one, because of how often he just stares at you; you often mistook this as him spacing out and not listening but he actually was listening to every single word you said. your voice sounded like heaven to him, how could he not? when you ask him to recite what you just said, you were surprised to see how he got it right, word for word.

★ definitely the type to go out of his way to do something because he thinks you’d like it. during one of your library dates, he catches you picking up a book about poetry, complimenting the work inside and how beautiful people write when they’re in love. after that day, he definitely went home and wrote multiple poem drafts about you.

★ speaking of dates!! this man would be the type to apologise to you because he can’t take you to those fancy restaurants. you had to remind him multiple times that eating at fine dinings wasn’t really your thing anyway, that it made you self-conscious to be around such fancy people. he frowned, thinking you were just saying that so he’d stop apologising and you knew just how to cure that.

“you know.. i always did have a soft spot for library dates.”

his face lit up and ever since then, he never forgets to take you on your weekly library dates. it was a good place to unwind as well. killing one bird with two stones; spending quality time with you knowing that you actually enjoy being here, and being able to have some peace and quiet.

★ the protective and worried type!! always texting “are you home?” after dropping you off at your place. “are you tired? do you want to sleep?” as much as he’d love to text you up until the early morning even if it meant he had no sleep when he got to work tomorrow, he doesn’t want you to be sleep deprived.

★ i’ve seen other ppl say this and i just can’t get it out of my head; he’s probably insecure about himself whenever you introduce him to your friends and your family :(

when you invite him to attend a dinner party, telling him it was just a get together with some old friends from your hometown, he misheard you.

“you should definitely go! i know how much you miss your friends,” he beamed, giving you a thumbs up.

you furrowed your brows. “honey.. wait, no, i want you to come with me, yeah?”

he looks at you confused. you want to bring him with you? for what? he was never the type to be jealous of you attending events by yourself. maybe it was because he trusted you or maybe because he didn’t want to hold you back. he knew you to be too good for him. a single father, struggling to make ends meet and provide for his sickly daughter—it wouldn’t be much of a shock to him if you ghosted him out of nowhere or if you leave him for another person. please give this man some reassurance!!! :(

★ always wakes up before you in the morning. his fingers trailing across your face while he admires the way the sun shines behind you making it look like you were glowing. he really doesn’t know what he did to deserve you, but my god, did he consider himself the luckiest man alive for that reason.

★ loves it when you cup his face with both your hands. he’ll have the biggest and silliest smile on his face when you do so.

nsfw! gender-neutral & fem!reader.

★ a soft dom, but would gladly be submissive if you asked.

★ as we already know, he’s a very good listener, even in bed. he’s always listening to the way you moan, the sound of your whine, the pitch. does flicking his tongue feel good? he’d ask but he had a feeling that the sound of you already gave him the answer.

★ probably would prefer to be intimate in comfortable spaces. although he would never object if you offered to give him a quickie, each time he’d remind you of how you never needed to do this. that he’d take care of it himself.

“you don’t have to. it’ll go away. i can—”

“i want to. please?”

how could he say no to those eyes?

★ prioritizes your comfort above anything else, above his own. if you were in an awkward place, but you really needed to get off—needed him—he would hold your hand firmly. “i’ll take you home, come on,” he’d say as he pulls you next to him.

★ loooves having you ride him, but he worries that it’ll tire you out too much

★ when your face gets sweaty, hair clinging to your forehead with your mouth open, he makes sure to brush your hair back with his fingers. he wants to see your flushed and fucked out face clearly, wants to see if he’s doing good

★ always preps you beforehand. he can’t stand the thought of hurting you, even IF you’ve done it countless times before.

reaching for the zipper of his jeans as he gently swats your hand away. “i need to prep you first, honey..” he cooed, pulling your pants down. he knows how eager you are, but he needs to take care of you first.

★ the only times he wouldn’t prep you would probably be when he’d be the sub. you ordering him around, telling him what to do and what not to do

★ subtle touches doesn’t get him turned on right away (he’s more mature than that. he’s not a pervert) this probably also means that he’s a little oblivious to your advances, you’d have to tell him directly what you needed or wanted of him and watch as his eyes widen, looking around to see if na-yeon heard the two of you. “honey.. are you sure?”

★ there would be times when you’d show off your skin and instead of him getting aroused, he’d just be in awe of your beauty. i mean, he probably IS aroused but he just doesn’t go insane over it.

★ breeding kink, FOR SURE, but he always asks first.

“can i come in you, baby? please?”

“i’m so close.. ‘so close..”

“pleaseee...” paired by him whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

★ doesn’t like BDSM. i mean, he’s a father now. also hates the thought of hurting you purposefully. he’d also probably never say it, but he doesn’t like getting degraded as well :( just give this man some praises, he’s already sad enough as is!

★ saw ppl saying he has a daddy kink and im just like nooooo 💔💔 he has a daughter that literally calls him daddy, why would he ever want you to call him that in the bedroom?

★ his rhythm would be slow and gentle, wanting to feel all of you and be with you in the moment. you would have to beg this man to go faster

★ the type to hold your hair back during blowjobs. he’d probably accidentally pull on it when you flick your tongue over his tip, but apologies would quickly come spilling out of his lips.

“‘m sorry.. sorry, honey.. i didn’t mean to.. fuck, that felt good..”

★ always reminding you of how beautiful you are while his cock is buried deep inside you.

“you’re so beautiful like this.. taking me in so well..”

“yes, that’s it.. c’mon.. you’re so pretty..”

★ he makes sure you come before he does, and when he does come (whether it’s in you or on you) he takes a minute afterwards to take a breath while you feel his cock still half-hard inside you.

“i love you so much.”

“you did so good f’me..”

★ aftercare king 🫡🫡

a/n: there are literally no fics of him (x reader) on ao3 so i have turned to tumblr bc tumblr RARELY disappoints when it comes to content for side characters 🙏

[wosospacegirl]

I don’t even like boys - Arsenal teen! r

Summary: Reader has sex with a boy because she is confused about her sexuality but ends up having a pregnancy scare. Leah and Katie comfort her through it.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Talks of teenage pregnancy (but she’s not pregnant!!) a little bit of good luck, baby vibes?

Masterlist here

This was based on a request! Hope you guys enjoy it.

..

The Health check day at Arsenal was awkward. The team was split into groups of three, each assigned to a general practitioner, a physiotherapist, and a gynaecologist. All the girls had to be examined by all three before returning to training, as per house rules, Y/n guessed.

Y/n, Leah, Katie, and Kyra, sat bored in the gynaecologist’s waiting room. Leah tapped her foot in frustration. “This is ridiculous. We could be training at the gym instead of waiting here,” the blonde muttered.

“You say that every season,” Katie said, rolling her eyes. The Irish woman had a small rubber ball, which she kept bouncing back and forth against the wall.

“Yeah, because every season we lose at least two hours here just so we can go inside and answer the same questions Dr. Smith always asks,” Leah grumbled. “I know she is old and all that, but she always asks me if there is a chance I could be pregnant!” The captain continued, looking at the door as if making sure Dr. Smith wouldn’t hear her.

“I’ve told her I’m just into women like twelve times already,” Leah complained.

Leah wasn’t the chattiest person around, but mate —she could talk when she was annoyed at something.

“Don’t give the woman a hard time,” Kyra said, smiling at Leah. “It’s bureaucracy, they must keep records and stuff like that. Plus, you can’t just expect Dr. Smith to remember everybody’s sexuality. Not everyone in the team is gay.”

“The kid’s right for once,” Katie agreed.

“For once?” Kyra asked, noticing the teasing. “Shut up, McCabe.”

“You might have a point, Kyra,” Leah said, turning slightly to Y/n, who hadn’t said a word since the groups arrived at the waiting room. “Why are you so quiet, Y/n?”

“Maybe because I have nothing to say?” Y/n answered sharply, rolling her eyes.

“Someone’s in a mood,” Katie said.

“Shut up,” Y/n mumbled.

“Ouch!” The young girl exclaimed as she felt Leah pinching her arm. “Why would you do that?” Y/n snapped, looking at the captain and then at the sore skin on her arm.

“Don’t be rude,” Leah warned firmly using her captain's voice.

“I’m not being rude; you guys are just annoying to be around!”

“You guys? I haven’t done anything to you?” Kyra defended herself, a pout on her face.

Y/n hadn’t been in a mood when she woke up, but her day took a turn for worse when she received a notification on her phone from her period-tracking app.

Your period is a week late

She hadn’t realized it, being too caught up with training and school to notice how her menstrual cycle was irregular. Y/n wouldn’t have to worry about it if she had stuck to her rule —not having sex with boys — but it just happened.

Y/n wasn’t sure about her sexuality yet, but she knew she liked girls more than boys. Until last month, she had never kept any type of physical intimacy with a boy before, but it all changed when she met this nice boy from her school. He was a year old and just very kind to her.

The girl wouldn’t say she was attractive to him or anything, she actually didn’t want to have sex because she was horny, or any other reason teenagers normally have sex.

She just wanted to see if she would enjoy herself or not. If she was able to like boys or just girls.

Y/n was curious.

One thing led to another and when Y/n realized she and Chris had sex with the during a very cold Saturday afternoon. After they finished, well, he finished, Y/n put on her shirt and underwear, staring at the boy sleeping in her bed.

It felt wrong.

Not because he was rude to her or bad at sex, but because he just… wasn’t a girl.

“Hey, Chris,” Y/n poked the sleeping boy. “Mate, wake up.”

“Hm?” the boy mumbled, slightly opening her eyes. “What? Is it morning already?”

“What? No, of course not, it’s been just15 minutes since we—”

“Had sex?” The boy finished her sentence, a smirk displayed on his face.

“Well—Yeah! That’s why I need you to leave,” Y/n could see the smirk disappearing from the boy’s face, disappointment settling in.

“Leave? Like… back to my house?”

“Exactly.” Y/n left the bed, looking for her pants on the floor. Where were they? She could swear she had put it on her desk chair.

As Y/n looked around, she felt Chris’s eyes on her body. She didn’t like it.

“Did I do something wrong?” Chris finally asked, sitting straight on the bed, back against the headboard. “It was my first time too, but I hope I didn’t hurt you or anything.”

Y/n’s face soften. Maybe she was being a bit rude.

“No, Chris, it was alright, I just—I don’t think I really like…boys.” Y/n confessed, finally finding her pants under her bed.

“Oh.”

“Yeah mate, I’m sorry.”

Chris left the bed and began looking for his clothes, while Y/n stood there awkwardly. She shouldn’t feel awkward in her own house. When Chris was dressed and ready to go, Y/n led him to the front door.

“This could stay between us, right?” Y/n asked softly as she opened the door to the boy, the cold winter breeze meeting her face. She was just now realizing that Chris could very much tell anyone what they did.

Even the Media.

“I—I can’t have people knowing about this… the team and the contract—” Y/n continued.

Chris gave her a sad smile. “Don’t worry, Y/n. Let’s just pretend it never happened.”

After a clumsy goodbye, Chris left, and Y/n was finally alone again. She desperately needed a shower.

And that’s how Y/n realized she was going through a pregnancy scare.

Y/n didn’t feel different, she hadn’t had any weird cravings. She hasn’t gained or lost any weight. Surely, she wasn’t pregnant. She wasn’t on any birth control, but she had made sure Chris was wearing a condom.

They were both a bit clumsy, but they had remembered to check if the condom had a hole or not before Chris threw it away. At least they’d done one thing right.

So yeah, Y/n didn’t know why she was so nervous. She didn’t have any reason to be. She followed the Sex Education’s rules to the letter… but, what if something had gone wrong? Was she even ovulating that day? She couldn’t be sure.

Y/n began biting her nails. Her teammates could sense Y/n’s tension, but they didn’t want to make the younger girl angrier than she already was — although they were all very curious about the reason for her foul mood.

After what felt like centuries, Alessia appeared in the waiting room, having just left the gynaecologist’s office. The blonde exchanged a few words with the other girls before leaving. Now Y/n just had to wait — Dr. Smith would call one of them soon.

Within minutes, the girls heard Dr. Smith’s voice through the door. “Next!” The old lady called.

Y/n probably got up too quickly from her chair, because Leah, Katie and Kyra looked at her like she was crazy. “I’ve never seen you so excited to go see Dr. Smith before,” Kyra said.

“You almost took the chair with you,” Katie added suspiciously.

“I—I just want to be one of the firsts! The last time we had check-up day, I was the last one to go,” Y/n said defensively, taking small steps towards the office.

“You were the last one because you were terrified of going to the gynaecologist,” Leah said, raising an eyebrow. “I literally had to go in with you. “

Did the older girls really need to remember everything all the time?

“I’m just a changed woman now,” Y/n sighed. “You all might see me as some kid, but I’m almost 18 —things change.” The defensiveness in Y/n voice was unmatched, so Leah just let her go without pressing any further

“Something happened to her.”

That was the last thing Y/n could hear before entering Dr. Smith’s office.

..

 After completing the physical part of the exam, Dr. Smith sat across from Y/n at her desk, her notebook open on Y/n’s medical files. Y/n couldn’t pay attention to what the old woman was typing —she was too distracted by the sight in front of her: a replica of a uterus with a baby inside.

“Darling, I’m just going to go through the same questions as always, okay,” Dr. Smith said with a smile.

Y/n answered all the questions honestly. Yes, she had bad period cramps. No, she didn’t have migraines. Yes, it bothered her to play during her period. No, the training didn’t make the cramps go worse.

Everything was fine until Dr. Smith asked:

“During your last check, up you said you weren’t sexually active, right? How about now?”

Y/n blushed, staring at the doctor in front of her. Did she really have to go through this just to play professional football?

“Hm—So about that—yes,” Y/n fumbled over her words. She scratched the back of her head nervously.

Dr. Smith remained silent, waiting for Y/n to continue, but the young girl clamped her mouth shut, looking at the walls instead.

“Yes what, darling?” asked Dr. Smith. “This is a private space; you don’t need to be embarrassed.”

Private space? As if! Y/n thought, Dr. Smith had her whole hormonal history — and now sex life — written up in her file.

“I’ve had had sex since the last time we talked.” Y/n explained, no emotions on her face. She just needed to be direct.

“Would you be okay telling me if it was with a boy or a girl?” The poor woman was really trying to get Y/n to open up— Y/n had to give her that.

“Hm—” Y/n bit her nails. “Two months ago, I was with this girl. She was my first. And then last month, I had sex with this guy, but it was only once,” Y/n explained.

“So, you’ve had two sexual partners, correct?”

“Yes, but the girl was the only one who I slept with more than once.” Y/n was going to die of embarrassment, — she was sure of it.

“Alright darling, had you had any STI test after then?”

“Yes, everything’s fine.”

“Great! That’s great. What about your period? Have you noticed any changes in your cycle after having intercourse?” Dr. Smith questioned.

Y/n stared at the women. She had to tell her.

“Well, about that,” Y/n laughed nervously. “My period is kind of late, but it’s probably nothing, right? We used condoms, and not throwing up or anything, I just have to wait, don’t I?”

For a moment, all they could hear in the office were Y/n trainers tapping the floor.

“How late are you, Y/n?” Dr. Smith asked, a frown on her face.

“A week.”

“Hm,” Dr. Smith mumbled before getting up from her chair and opening a white cabinet. The older woman held a box with a baby printed on it and handed it to Y/n

Y/n started at the pregnancy test, not wanting to take it.

“We’ll have you doing this test, okay? Just go to the bathroom and pee on it. It will take 3 to 5 minutes to get the results.”

Y/n said nothing.

“You need to do it, Y/n, I know you are scared, but we can’t be sure why your period is late if you don’t take.”

Y/n took the pregnancy test, tears in her eyes.

Before Dr. Smith could say anything, Y/n was already bolting through the office door, straight to the bathroom. She heard Leah and Katie behind her. The older women were calling for her, asking what had happened, but Y/n didn’t look back.

When she got to the bathroom, she locked herself in one of the stalls, it wasn’t long before she heard the door open. Before Leah or Katie could say anything, Y/n was already crying.

Leah and Katie looked at each other, both very worried. They didn’t know what could have possibly happened back at the gynaecologist’s office, but they were sure it was bad by the way the young girl reacted.

“Hey babe, what’s wrong?” Leah asked softly. “Did something, why are you crying?”

“I’m an idiot,” Y/n answered, her hands shaking. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”

Katie and Leah shared an apprehensive look.

“And why do you say that kid? Leah questioned, trying to get the stall to open. “Come talk to us.”

Y/n was so distressed, she just wanted to get this test done over with.

“I—I had sex with this boy from my school,” Y/n confessed, tears running down her face. “I’m not even sure why, I know I don’t like boys, but I just wanted to be sure.”

“Okay, that okay, that’s completely normal,” Katie said. “It’s that why you are crying?”

Half the Arsenal team were lesbians. They’d been Y/n’s age once and knew how confusing it is to understand one’s sexuality.

“Did the boy do something to you, Y/n?” Leah asked, her voice angry. “If he did, we can find him and go to the police—”

“It’s not that,” Y/n said through tears. “My period is late, and Dr. Smith gave me a pregnancy test, but I’m just scared to take it.”

The bathroom was silent again.

“Did you use protection?” Leah asked, breaking the silence.

“Yes,” Y/n answered through the door.

“Okay, so the odds are in your favor, yeah, kid? Go take the test, and when you’re done, we’ll be right here with you.” Leah said.

“I’m sure it’s going to be negative, babe, don’t worry, take the test, and then we’ll figure stuff out.” The Irish women added.

That’s what Y/n did. She followed the instructions written on the box and just waited. She could see Katie’s and Leah’s shadows through the door opening. Who would have thought that shadows could be comforting?

A minute passed. Then two. And then five.

Just one bright pink line.

Not pregnant.

Y/n yanked the stall door open and threw her arms around Leah and Katie, who weren’t expecting the sudden embrace. The girl felt like she could finally breathe again, her heart slowing doing as her chest relaxed against Leah and Katie’s embrace.

“I’m not fucking pregnant,” Y/n said, hugging the women tight. “I might start crying again.”

“See, we were right, nothing to worry about,” Leah patted Y/n’s back

“I told you, no drama.” Katie said playfully. “Pregnancy tests are overrated anyway.”

After Y/n calmed down, the three women went back to the waiting room. Y/n had to go back inside the gynaecologist office to tell Dr. Smith she wasn’t pregnant after all. After a few minutes, Dr. Smith let Y/n go and told advised her to use birth control or IUD is she wanted to feel more protected against any potential pregnancy.

“Oh Dr. Smith, don’t worry, now I know I don’t even like boys,” Y/n said before leaving the room.

[mossterunderthebed]

I HAVE BEEN ASKED SO YE SHALL BE ANSWERED

OKAY SO

Gojo meets yuuji who works part time at a station gassing up ppls cars and gojo is instantly attracted and charmed and chats him up for ages but eventually his boss yells at yuuji to hurry up and so he scurries off but gojo comes in the next day w a different car and keeps doing that until theyve been chatting for like a week or two and gojo mentions his car needing a tune up bc something keeps grinding but hes not a mech so he doesnt know how to fix it 

and yuuji volunteers and says hes been working with cars since he was a little boy cause its what his father did for a living and his gramps kept the shop running bc he couldnt bear to let it go but he didnt know much so yuuji was determined to make the business succeed and learned at the hands of the man gramps hired and also worked all the time of random scraps and junk cars and just constantly tinkered so hes really good and confident w them 

and so he looks at gojos car and fixes it in up just a few mins and gojos suitably impressed and offers him a job but yuuji doesnt get it and gojos like ‘im an f1 drier. P famous actually.’ 

and yuuji just stares at him blankly and is like. ‘Yeah. i know.’ and gojos like ‘wut’ and yuuji lists off some of his accomplishment and smiles at him and is just like ‘ive been cheering you on since i was like six and knew what racing was’ 

and gojo’s amazed that yuuji didnt dissolve into a Fanboy and kinda accuses him like ‘u didnt act like squealy or like you knew me or anything’ and yuuji was like ‘no? Because that would be weird? And you’re a person and a customer and im not gonna make you uncomfortable?’ 

and gojos kinda stumped but also like ‘so u dont want my autograph’ and yuuji just goes bright pink and kinda mumbles ‘i didnt say that’ and gojo grins and goes ‘how about this then? Ill give you a chance to be a part of F1 history AND get my autograph. If you come work on my team’ 

and so he does and the team (run by getou suguru gojo’s best friend since high school) is kinda skeptical abt him at first but hes actually amazing with cars and super strong and friendly and helpful and they’re all won over super fast. 

And then u know. Goyuu speed date and get married and its all adorable ‘n’ stuff.

my piece for a gojo cup sleeve event !

[thoughtfulfiction]

While We’re Young

Author’s note: Anon requested, Hope you all enjoy!

“Wait,” you said, your voice breaking the comfortable silence in the car. You twisted one of your hoodie strings around your finger, tightening your grip on it and staring at Justin as if the realization had just crashed into you. “What if they don’t like me?”

Justin glanced over, his brows furrowing before his expression softened. His hand found its place on your thigh, his thumb tracing a lazy pattern through the fabric of your leggings. You were convinced that his soothing touch could change lives. “They’re going to love you,” he said simply, as though it wasn’t even a question. “My mom’s already planning to interrogate you about your favorite foods so she can cook for you. That’s her love language.”

You wanted to believe him, but your mind was already racing. “I mean, what if they think I’m not good enough for you? Or—oh god—what if I say something stupid and embarrass myself? Bad first impressions are impossible to recover from, and if this doesn't go the way we hope…” You trailed off, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten.

At the next stoplight, Justin leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to your temple. “First of all, you couldn’t embarrass yourself even if you tried. And second, I’ve seen you charm complete strangers. My family doesn’t stand a chance.”

Despite his confidence, your nerves didn’t fully settle. “Thanks, babe,” you murmured, managing a small smile. “But what am I supposed to do with the next thirteen hours? That’s so much time for me to go through worse case scenarios.”

“And to make me listen to your Sad Girl playlist,” Justin switched gears to remind you, his lips twitching into a grin.

“Oh, absolutely.” You laughed, connecting your phone to his car’s Bluetooth, taking a break from your negative self-talk. The opening chords of your favorite melancholic ballad filled the car as you leaned back in your seat.

Justin groaned dramatically but didn’t complain. Instead, he reached over to squeeze your hand, the warmth of his skin a quiet and comforting reassurance that you’d carry with you all the way to Eugene.

The fact that he was bringing you was a big deal already but to know that he’d only really done this a couple times made you feel special. Even if he didn’t really say it, he was falling for you just as much as you were falling for him.

Justin pulled you out of your thoughts when he asked, “are you hungry at all? Because I’m thinking about stopping somewhere. I’m starving.”

“Oh yeah, lunch sounds good. I think I saw a Wingstop sign towards this next exit but I can look it up.”

You opted to sit in the car and eat, giving him a long winded breakdown of what you wanted to do and see in Eugene.

“I want the works. Walk me down memory lane. And definitely take me to Nike. It honestly feels illegal not to go to a Nike store where it all started. I’m sure you’re looking to add to your endless collection anyway.” You note with a laugh. If Nike made suits, he'd definitely be first in line.

He gave you a pointed look. “It was an endless collection until I met and started dating a thief. Do you know how many of my sweatshirts I found in your closet this morning while helping you pack? I was looking for the purple one for weeks.”

You laughed so hard you nearly choked on your fries, swapping spots with him after lunch so he could take a break from driving. “Well I’m sorry! It’s not my fault your clothes are so big and they smell like you. Anytime you’re gone I just throw one on and it’s like you’re always with me.”

“Nice save…Catwoman.”

You scoff. “I prefer Robin Hood, actually. Take from the rich and give to the poor. You’re rich, so I take from you and...give to me. The poor.”

“That would work better if I didn’t get most of that stuff for free, but that is a pretty solid comparison.”

After about 8 hours of you being on aux, you decided to cut him so slack and let him take over on music as you continued to drive, mouthing the lyrics of the latest song that was playing from his phone, quickly getting lost in the rhythm.

He glanced over at you, chuckling softly, nodding his head along to the beat. “I didn’t know you were an 80s rock fan.”

“I didn’t either but you played this a few weeks ago while we were making dinner and I’ve been listening to it ever since. Hate to admit it but this is kind of a banger." You smirked, tilting your head toward him. "You know…I won’t tell anyone if you sing.”

Justin immediately starts shaking his head. “No shot. You’re not doing this to me.”

You turned up the music, singing loudly and deliberately off-key as he sighed deeply, his head dropping back against the headrest. But to your surprise, he joined in during the chorus. Both of you were screaming the lyrics to “Pour Some Sugar on Me” by Def Leppard, the car practically vibrating with your energy.

“What happens on the road trip stays on the road trip,” he said, holding out his pinky.

“Deal,” you laughed, locking your pinky with his before refocusing on the road.

A few hours later, Justin motioned for you to take the next exit. “Let’s hop out right here. I want to show you something,” he said cryptically.

The stop turned out to be a scenic lookout, the perfect place to watch the sunset with Mt. Shasta looming majestically in the distance. Justin laced his fingers with yours as the two of you walked toward the edge, stretching your legs after hours in the car.

“This is the most beautiful view I’ve ever seen,” you whispered, mesmerized by the golden and pink hues painting the sky.

Justin turned to you with a warm smile, his eyes full of something that made your stomach flutter. “Yeah… me too.”

You smacked his arm, keeping your gaze on the horizon. “Justin, focus. You’re not even looking at the scenery right now.”

“Sorry, I just got really distracted by the view in front of me. It’s kind of become my favorite.” He stepped behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on the top of your head. His beard—something that came and went whenever he felt like it—tickled your temple, making you smile.

Turning around in his arms, you finally look up at him, the sight still stealing your breath even after all this time. His green eyes were softer in the glow of the setting sun, flickering between your eyes and lips as if he couldn’t decide where to focus.

“You’re my favorite view too,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “Wouldn’t mind waking up to you for a while...the rest of my life even.”

The words hung in the air, fragile yet heavy with meaning. His brows lifted slightly, and for a moment, you worried you’d said too much. You hadn't even meant to say that last part out loud and you almost backtracked. But then, his lips curled into a small, hesitant smile, like he was processing the weight of your words.

“Really?” he asked, his voice low and steady. His hand came up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. “You—you see us doing this? Getting married, spending our lives together?”

The vulnerability in his tone made your heart ache in the best way. “Yeah, I do. Which is funny because I’ve never actually been with someone that I see a real future with.”

Justin didn’t respond immediately, but his actions spoke louder than any words ever could. His hands slid to frame your face fully, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones as if memorizing every detail. He leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull away if you wanted to—but you didn’t.

When his lips finally met yours, it was soft and deliberate, like he was pouring everything he felt but couldn’t say into that one kiss. It wasn’t hurried or frantic; it was the kind of kiss that made the world fade away until it was just the two of you.

His hand gently cradled your head, holding you in place as if he was afraid you might slip away. You gripped the front of his hoodie, pulling him closer, your heart racing as the kiss deepened. There was something so raw, so unspoken in the way his lips moved against yours—it wasn’t just passion; it was promise. Everything you saw, this bright beautiful future together? He saw it too.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, foreheads resting together. He let out a shaky laugh, his hands still cradling your face. “I’ve never actually been with someone that I see a real future with either,” he admitted, his voice hoarse but filled with a quiet certainty. “Until now.”

The kiss lingered for just a moment longer, both of you savoring the connection, the sound of your heartbeat matching the rhythm of your breath. When Justin finally pulled back, there was a brief moment of silence, a quiet understanding between you. He took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair, giving you a small smile before pulling away completely to open the door of the car.

“I think we’ve stalled long enough,” he said, his voice a bit rougher than usual but still carrying that calm confidence you admired. “Let’s get this over with.”

You both shared a laugh, though it felt a bit nervous on your part as the reality of the day hit. You had no idea what to expect, but you knew this was a big moment for Justin—and for you.

Justin took the keys from your hand, giving you one last reassuring squeeze before getting in the driver's seat. You took a deep breath, trying to shake off the jittery nerves you hadn’t even realized you were holding onto.

The final leg of the drive felt like it stretched on forever, even though only a few hours had passed since you were on the mountain. There was something different in the air now. The soft, quiet hum of the road felt more like a countdown to something important.

Every few minutes, Justin would glance over at you, a soft smile curling at his lips as if trying to reassure himself just as much as you. His hand eventually found itself encasing yours, his thumb making lazy circles over your skin. He wasn’t saying much, but his presence, calm and unwavering, was more than enough.

When the exit for Eugene finally appeared, you felt your pulse quicken. This was it. This was the moment.

“Here we go,” Justin murmured, his voice somehow more steady than his movements, as he guided the car off the highway and toward the familiar road leading to his childhood home.

The transition felt sudden, but not uncomfortable. It was a quiet moment of realization that everything you’d shared so far had been leading to this point. He was letting you in. You were meeting the people who mattered most to him, the ones who had shaped him into the man he was today.

As you approached the house, you could see the familiar outline of the porch, a few trees swaying in the breeze, and a small garage you guessed held memories of Justin’s childhood. The house was modest, but there was a sense of warmth and familiarity that seemed to radiate from the front door, even from the car.

Justin slowed as he approached, his hand reaching over to squeeze yours one last time before he parked the car. He looked over at you, eyes soft but serious, like he was searching for your reassurance.

“You ready?” he asked quietly, his voice laced with both excitement and nerves.

You nodded, squeezing his hand back. “Yeah. Ready.”

And with that, the two of you got out of the car and walked toward the front door of his family’s home, the journey that had brought you here feeling like both an ending and a beginning.

The door swung open before you even knocked, and there stood his mom, her arms outstretched.

She was gorgeous, her dark hair a stark contrast to Justin's much lighter features. But she wasn't interested in him at all, making a beeline for you straight away. “Oh, you’re even more beautiful than he said! I’m Holly—come in, come in!"

You barely had time to process her words before you were enveloped in a warm hug, her energy immediately putting you at ease. Over her shoulder, you spot Justin’s dad, Mark, standing on the porch with a reserved smile, and Justin’s brothers are leaning against the doorway, smirking. Justin laughed softly behind you, side stepping you and his mom. "Alright, let her breathe please? It'd be helpful if she made it through this entire night without suffocating," he jokes as his mom pulls away, rolling her eyes as she gives him a hug.

A younger guy who looks almost exactly like a mustached version of your boyfriend greets you next. "Hi, I'm Patrick. Glad Mitch wasn't lying and you are a real person, but pro tip? You're way out of this dork's league," he says with a serious face, nodding his head towards his older brother.

Justin glares at him and doesn't respond, muttering something under his breath that only Patrick catches as he bursts into a fit of laughter. You give Mitch a hug—the familiar face of Justin's older brother a welcome sight. He was a first-year orthopedic surgery resident at UCLA, the perfect situation for him and Justin to live together again. You'd been able to meet him on several occasions which proved useful in easing your nerves about meeting everyone else. “How was the drive? Are you guys staying at the ranch tonight?”

“We are,” you replied with a smile. “I’m really excited to finally see this infamous place.”

Justin’s dad steps forward, his handshake firm but warm, his eyes studying you with quiet curiosity before his face softens into a welcoming smile. “Don’t let these two scare you off. We’re happy to finally meet you. Let's head inside, I think Holly already has the baby pictures set out and ready for you to go through," he smiles, patting Justin on the back as his son shakes his head.

"You're lucky your dad talked me out of making a PowerPoint Presentation because we were seconds away from watching a pre dinner slideshow." Holly says to him with a small smile as everyone steps inside.

Patrick's voice cuts through everyone's laughter, "she's not even kidding, it was about to have music included and everything but dad saved you. I was about to give her some of the best material." He looks over at you, overenunciating for emphasis. "Two words: bowl. Cut."

"See what I have to deal with?" Justin whispers, gently pulling you into his side. Mark and Holly exchange knowing looks but don't say anything.

The house smelled of cinnamon and fresh bread, like warmth itself had settled into the walls. Framed pictures lined the hallways—some faded with time, others vibrant and new—each capturing a story of childhood adventures and hard-won victories. The fireplace crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the cozy living room. This wasn’t just a house; it was a sanctuary, a place where love was stitched into the very fabric of its foundation.

On the table in the living room is a stack of photo albums from when Justin was a newborn all the way up until his senior year of college. Countless memories were shared in these frames, a clearly busy but joyful childhood filled with love, laughter and lots of sporting events of all kinds. You could see that this family valued quality time with each other and the home you were in radiated warmth and love.

You ran your fingers lightly over the plastic covering of one album, tracing the faded marker label: Justin – Year 3. Inside, a chubby-cheeked toddler grinned back at you, his tiny facial features stretched in a mischievous but slightly forced smile.

“He never changed,” Patrick teased. “Still hates cameras.”

His words made you laugh a little because it was true, but you also saw something deeper. A boy who had grown up in a home where love wasn’t measured in trophies or contracts but in moments. The same boy who had fought to protect his private life in the face of stadium lights and national attention. You understood now—it wasn’t about secrecy. It was about keeping his people, the most important part of him, safe.

Your gaze flickered to Justin, his fingers tapping against his thigh—a telltale sign of deep thought. He wasn’t just reminiscing. He was remembering what it felt like to carry all of this, to be seen as something larger than life before he even had a chance to grow into it. And yet, here, he wasn’t the NFL quarterback. He was just...Justin.

"He was the starter by the end of that season, kind of became the hometown hero from then," Mitch sighs, sifting through some of the photos. "Things kind of got chaotic after that, with comparisons and people talking on social media."

"It was annoying," Justin cuts in, "deleted my Instagram after that. Only got it back around the draft for endorsement purposes." His words are dry, like it was painful or embarrassing thinking back to that time.

You had always respected, even admired, Justin’s need for privacy. But sitting here, surrounded by the people who had shaped him, you understood where it all came from: it wasn’t just about keeping the world out—it was about keeping his world safe. The weight of expectations, the relentless scrutiny, the unspoken pressure to be perfect—it had started young. He hadn’t chosen to be private. He had been forced to learn how to protect the things that mattered most.

And that’s what this house and his family was.

His one refuge from a world that always wanted more.

"Alright," Holly says, breaking you out of your epiphany, "who's ready to eat?"

This was a family you could definitely see yourself being a part of. Justin seemed so much more relaxed and at ease here which was a stark contrast to what you'd seen from him recently. His job was unforgiving, unrelenting. And the fans? You thanked your lucky stars daily for the fact that Justin wasn't on Twitter, especially after the Houston loss. This is where he belonged, these were his people. They didn't care about the stats or the money or everything that came with it and that's exactly how he wanted to be treated. He had a home in these people. He'd only found that comfort and peace one other time since he left Eugene.

And that was when he met you.

Dinner went on seamlessly, Mark joking asked if you two had a wedding date set after watching his son not-so-subtly check in on you throughout your stay. There were inside jokes, little moments of laughter from your relationship with Justin like how you had to adjust to his crazy hours in the facility from Monday-Wednesday but Thursdays were the days that really mattered, it was just the two of you. And sometimes Mitch and Isabella. But those were the days that brought you even closer, those little moments, just like this one that brought you so much joy it felt like you'd explode. There was easy laughter, Patrick telling some story about Justin being so private and how much he likes to keep to himself that he never thought he'd see this day. You spoke up and reassured him that you think you've successfully peeled back some layers and found your best friend in the process. Out of the corner of your eye you caught Mitch giving Patrick a nudge. Even Mark cracked a little smile, but all you could focus on was Justin's subtle smile that spoke volumes, in his own unique way. After everyone was finished with their meal, you found yourself in the kitchen with Holly, helping her plate dessert while the guys debated football in the other room.

“He’s different with you, you know.” She nodded, wiping her hands on a dish towel before leaning against the counter.

Your hands froze mid-reach. A small knot of nerves twisted in your stomach. “Different good or…?”

She smiled, her eyes soft with something unreadable. “Good. Really good.” There was a wistfulness in her expression, something unspoken lingering in the air. “You remind me of someone.”

You tilted your head, curiosity sparking. “Oh?”

“His grandma. My mom,” she said, voice quieter now, like the weight of memory had settled over her. “She was the only one who could ever get my dad to slow down. He was always moving—always thinking about the next challenge, the next goal. But with her, it was…different. She had this way of pulling him back to the present, reminding him that love isn’t measured in achievements. That life isn’t just about what you do—it’s about who you share it with.”

Her eyes met yours then, her meaning unmistakable. “Seeing you and Justin felt very similar to seeing them together again. It’s really nice to see him be with someone who helps him to reel it in a little.”

Your heart clenched, warmth blooming in your chest. You swallowed past the lump in your throat, forcing out a small laugh. “Well, he’s still a workaholic, so I might not be that good at it.”

Holly chuckled. “That’s just who he is. But I see the way he looks at you. The way he’s always checking in. You’re his home. His safe space.” She paused, and added softly, “And that’s all a mother could ever want for her son.”

You blinked back the unexpected sting of tears and watched as Holly swiped at her eyes. Before you could really process what you were doing, you were hugging her again. All the nerves and tension from earlier have completely vanished. Justin might not say much, but his actions had always spoken volumes. And now, hearing it from his mom—knowing that she saw it too—meant more than you could put into words.

The two of you walked back in with trays holding little bowls filled with apple crisp and a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top with caramel drizzle.

As Justin watched you, something settled in his chest—a feeling he hadn’t even known he was searching for. His mom was smiling at you in that way she only did when she had already decided someone was family. His dad—usually quiet, reserved—nodded along to your words like he genuinely enjoyed the conversation. His brothers, relentless as ever, had already started pulling you into their teasing.

And there you were. Sitting beside him, laughing like you belonged here. Because you did.

An hour later, after lingering goodbyes and a few last jokes, you walked side by side to his car. As Justin slid into the driver’s seat, he exhaled slow and deep. A weight he hadn’t even realized he was carrying finally lifted. Maybe it was the fear of his two worlds colliding. Maybe it was the quiet, unspoken worry that you wouldn’t fit into this part of his life.

But you did. Seamlessly. Effortlessly. Like you were always meant to.

“Well,” you said, patting his thigh with a teasing grin, “that went great. Can’t believe you were so freaked out.”

He turned to you, feigning offense before shaking his head with a laugh. The sound of it filled the car, warm and easy. You joined in, your laughter melting into his as he reached for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours.

This. This is what home should feel like.

Justin leaned over, pressing a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering for just a second longer than necessary. “Told you they’d love you,” he murmured.

But as he pulled back, hand still wrapped around yours, the thought hit him like a slow-burning realization.

I think I might love you too.