#RIGHT PERSON WRONG TIME. WHY IS IT WRONG TIME.

[punkshort]

Don't Give Up On Me

Pairing: Harry Castillo x f!reader (materialists)

Summary: Should you give up on the man you love when he disappoints you, or do you give him another chance?

Warnings: language, tons of angst, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, hurt/comfort, making men beg and cry

WC: idk I wrote it on my phone - maybe 2K?

A/N: sorry if this is premature. I can't help it. If we got his name wrong I'll just go back and fix it later okay byeeee

Tears that have been burning the backs of your eyes for the last two hours finally threaten to spill down your cheeks now that you're in the privacy of his town car.

Harry sits next to you, still talking on his phone like he has been all night while his driver takes you back to his penthouse. It's nestled in the heart of the city with a breathtaking view, but it's the very last place you want to be right now because you know what you'll have to do once you get there.

You're going to end things, once and for all.

It's been on your mind for a while, but you always talk yourself out of it. You make excuses for him, cover for him, and lie to him when you say it doesn't matter, but it does. It really fucking does.

You know he's a busy man. You've always known this. But foolishly, some part of you believed he would change. That after countless fights, he would eventually understand what's important to you, and it wasn't his money or his things — it was him.

All you ever want is for him to just be there when it counts, and he almost always lets you down. But tonight? Tonight was special. He knew it, too. You told him for weeks how excited you were to receive this award for all the hard work at your firm.

When it came time to accept it and give your speech in front of three hundred people, you excitedly climbed to the stage to take your prize. Your eyes swept around the room, searching for the only person you wanted to see, and your heart sunk when you realized he had stepped out of the room to take a work call.

Again.

It was in that moment you decided you wouldn't put up with it again.

The car stops in the usual spot outside his building. The driver opens your door and you slip out with a tight smile. Harry's right behind you, wrapping up his call, but you ignore him. You charge into the lobby and stab at the call button for the elevator. If he notices your anger, he doesn't let on. He laughs to whoever is on the other end while you adjust the strap of your dress with a huff.

Once the elevator arrives, he finally hangs up. You step inside and he presses in the code for the penthouse on the keypad, then the car smoothly lifts. You stare at the screen above the door while Harry scrolls on his phone, still completely unaware when he asks, "What's your boss's name again?"

You clench your jaw and fight back tears before you answer him. He grunts.

"Thought so. Went to Yale with him. Never liked the guy."

Your award feels so much heavier in your hand now. Like it's trying to pull you back down to the lobby and stop you from doing what you need to do. But you adjust it and lift your chin a little higher — you need to do this.

The doors slide open to Harry's massive, extravagant living room. You step out and walk right past it all — past the ornate kitchen, the priceless art, the expensive marble — through the long, perfectly decorated hallway to his bedroom.

You go right to the closet and grab an empty gym bag, tossing your award inside. You hear him somewhere in the room removing his watch, cufflinks and ring while you stuff your bag with whatever clothes you can think of. It's only when you exit the closet and storm into the bathroom that he notices something is wrong.

"What are you doing?"

You sniffle and sweep your toiletries off the counter, tossing them directly into your bag.

"I'm leaving."

Your voice is a little shaky but it sounds better than you expect. He watches you from the doorway as you move erratically around the room collecting your belongings.

"Wh— why?" he finally asks. You're grabbing your things from the shower when you hear it. He sounds sad, and maybe if it were any other day, you would have felt bad. But that day? That day, it just pisses you off.

You whirl back around and drop your bag on the floor to pin him with a glare. He's in the doorway still wearing the clothes from tonight: pressed black pants and a crisp white shirt, although now the collar is undone and his tie is abandoned somewhere in his bedroom.

"Why?" you repeat. Your tone is so icy, you hardly recognize it. "You — weren't — fucking — there!"

On the last word, you step forward and shove him. He stumbles backwards a bit, but only from shock.

"Baby—"

You shake your head and lean down grab your bag.

"Don't," is all you say when you brush past him. You throw the bag on your bed, half the contents spilling out, but you don't care. You're shaking like a leaf when you round the bed to your side and begin to grab your things from the nightstand.

"I'm sorry," he says softly from the other side of the room. You ignore him and keep working. "It was important. I told you—"

"And this was important to me!"

You snap your head up to yell at him with tears streaming down your face. His expression falls and he reaches out, but you take a step back.

"You're right. I'm — I'm sorry. I'll do better, I prom—"

"No! I'm done! I'm tired of having the same fights with you. I was so fucking stupid to think you'd ever choose me over... over all this."

You gesture broadly around his room but you mean his penthouse in general. He gets it. It's not the first time you've fought over this.

He watches you quietly while you continue to pack with shaky hands. When you're nearly done, he speaks again.

"I do want you," he says, "more than all this. I just — I want to make sure we're comfortable. I want to make sure we have enough so you never have to work again—"

"But I like working! I love what I do! I've never wanted to quit, I've never wanted anything from you... not your money or your cars or your clothes. I just..."

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose.

"I only ever wanted you," you mumble.

You bury your face in your hands as he crosses the room. You feel him standing in front of you and you know deep down, you're done for.

But still, you try.

"You have me," he says. His hands gently slide up and down your arms, but you keep your face hidden in your palms. "It won't always be like this. It's the busy season, that's all. It's... it's temporary. And then we can do whatever you want. We can go to Paris or Italy or Bora Bora... anywhere. It's up to you."

He takes another step closer and carefully plants a kiss to the top of your head. And you fucking let him.

"I'm so sorry, baby," he breathes. Your hands drop to your sides. "I should've been there, you're absolutely right. I'll never do something like that again, you have my word."

You sigh and finally tip your chin up to look him in the eye. It's kind of not fair how handsome he is on top of everything else: a thick head of wavy dark hair, gorgeous brown eyes, a greying beard he's self-conscious about but you find absolutely endearing. If there was one man on the planet who had it all, it's Harry Castillo.

He gives you a small smile and pinches your chin between his fingers when he sees your resolve crumbling.

"Can I make it up to you?" he asks.

You take a deep breath and try to scrape together what dignity you have left.

"No," you reply. His smile falters but otherwise he doesn't move. You take a step back but it's not far enough.

"I told you. I'm done."

Right when you go to turn and pick up your bag, he drops to his knees and wraps his arms around your waist.

"Please," he begs, gazing up at you from the floor. Your eyes widen with shock at this man who is quite literally worth billions falling to his knees, pleading with you to stay. "Don't go. I'll do anything. Please, I-I can't — I won't be —"

"Harry—"

"Please," he says again, urgently. You see his throat bob and his eyes fill with tears. "I'll do whatever you want. I-I just— I don't think I can do this—"

He swallows and presses his face against your stomach. His eyes slide closed and he breathes in deep while you're still struggling to catch up.

"I'll do anything," he whispers, but this time, his hands tighten around your waist. His jaw falls open and he mouths at your middle while a tear sneaks down his cheek.

It shouldn't affect you. You should push him away, take your bag, and go. Instead, you find yourself leaning forward into his hold.

"Harry..."

Your voice holds no conviction. His hands begin to move. They slide down your legs and push up the hem of your dress. He leaves feverish open mouthed kisses across your clothed stomach and over your hips. Your eyes fall shut and you gasp when his palms slide up your bare legs, pushing up the fabric of your dress until his fingers grab hold of your ass and he gives you a rough squeeze.

"Please," he's murmuring, over and over. Your jaw is slack and you give in. You just fucking give in when he pulls down on your panties until they drop to the floor. With shaky legs, you step out of them and crack open an eye when he tosses the lace over his shoulder.

You're weak. You know that. But you really thought this time was the last straw. Instead, he somehow has you underneath him once again. Your dress is in a sad little pile on the floor, along with his pants. His tongue is dancing hungrily with yours as you push his shirt over his shoulders.

You know you should have stood your ground, but you also know he's hurt. He's so broken and you want to fix him. You want to be the one who shows him what it's like — what it could be like. You want to prove that love can heal old wounds and can be beautiful, if you let it.

He groans when he first enters you. It's low and deep and it makes you gasp. His teeth graze your jaw and he whispers everything you want to hear: that he loves you, that he would do anything for you, that he's sorry. You let those words fill you up and mend the wounds he caused, just like all the other times before.

"Never again, okay?"

You nod and wrap your arms tightly around his shoulders. You say his name with a breathy moan and his hips flex faster, deeper.

"I can be good for you. I— I — fuck—"

He pushes your knees to your chest and you cry out. The angle is so much more intense. It has you clawing at the sheets and mumbling unintelligible curses under your breath as he splits you open, reminding you just how good it can be.

"I won't hurt you ever again," he babbles. Your chest aches. Your eyes water. He keeps fucking you so deep that it has you making noises you never heard yourself make before.

"I don't think — don't think I can d-do this without — you," he groans into your neck. Your nails scrape down his back. You throw your head backwards into the sheets and let him do what he does best: make you feel good and forget all the pain.

His mouth finds your jaw, then your cheek, and finally your lips. You moan and his tongue slips inside, licking past your teeth. He's so close. Your bodies practically melt together as one with each steady rock of his hips.

"Feels good, right?" he groans into your mouth. You nod and gasp when the muscles in your stomach begin to pull.

"Yes," you whine, all earlier anger forgotten.

"Yeah, I know," he coos. His hips snap faster, cock plunging deeper until the room is filled with your helpless moans and the sounds of your soaked pussy gushing all around him. He makes a pleased noise in the back of his throat when you clench tightly around his thick cock.

"Gonna come for me?" he asks. You whimper, cheeks blazing hot and body slick with sweat. He chuckles breathlessly and continues to drive himself into you, over and over. "Yeah, c'mon, it's alright. I wanna feel it — I need to feel it. C'mon, baby, just—"

Before he can finish his sentence, your muscles spasm and you scream out his name. A litany of curses falls from your lips as you pulse around his painfully hard length. He grinds his teeth and keeps fucking you through it until your body goes limp and you melt into the silk sheets.

His arms circle around you and he really begins to fuck you — hard. Each thrust is paired with a deep grunt until his cock swells and he comes inside you with a loud, strangled groan.

He collapses on top of you in relief. He occasionally jolts forward, giving you more of his release with each weak roll of his hips until he's spent. His head falls to your chest and he closes his eyes to catch his breath. Your fingers come up to gently rake through his hair and you lay just like that, silent and panting for air while his cock softens inside of you.

"I mean it," he rasps. You peel your eyes open and stare at the ceiling. He presses a soft kiss in the spot between your breasts when he says, "I'll be better. I won't fuck up again. Please, just — just don't give up on me."

Your arms coil around his neck and you hold him close as tears fill your eyes, now for an entirely different reason. You know he's been hurt before. Know what he went through and how badly she broke his heart.

But to his credit, he didn't give up. He kept searching for love, despite it all.

Nobody's perfect. You're far from it. But you know Harry has a good heart. He just needs a little extra care to heal it.

"Okay," you whisper.

You feel his grateful, hot tears pool silently against your chest and you hold him a little tighter.

Everyone makes mistakes, you think. Even the ones who love you the most.

It'll take time. It might hurt. But you'll keep trying. Because what happened wasn't his fault, and you both deserve to have a happy ending.

Some people just have to work a little harder for it.

[slutoru1207]

Stranger in a Strange Land

Viltrimite!Mark x Reader

When Mark first arrived on Earth, he saw it as nothing more than a mission. A planet to study, integrate into, and eventually conquer.

Then, he met you.

It wasn’t anything dramatic. No explosions, no fights, no cosmic events shifting fate itself. You just… bumped into him.

Literally.

You were in a rush, balancing coffee, your bag, and about ten different things when you crashed right into him—and bounced off like you hit a brick wall.

Your coffee spilled. Your things scattered. And you ended up on the pavement, blinking up at the tall, broad strangerwho didn’t even budge.

He looked down at you, eyebrows furrowed, golden eyes studying you with sharp curiosity.

“…You’re fragile.”

That was the first thing he said to you.

And instead of being terrified—you got annoyed.

"Gee, thanks, man," you muttered, gathering your things. "Glad to know I’m not made of steel."

His head tilted, clearly confused. You sighed. Another clueless dude with zero social skills.

Still, he crouched, far too close, picking up your bag like it weighed nothing before offering you a hand.

That’s when you got a good look at him.

He was gorgeous.

Tall, stupidly muscular, sharp jawline, tousled black hair—but his eyes. They were different. Golden, intense, watching you like you were some strange new species.

You hesitated before taking his hand.

It was warm. Solid. And when he pulled you up—he lifted you effortlessly, like you weighed nothing.

That was the beginning.

-

You quickly learned that Mark wasn’t just weird.

He was entirely clueless.

He didn’t understand social norms, personal space, or why humans didn’t casually lift cars to move them out of parking spots.

"What do you mean I can’t?" he frowned, watching as you dragged him away from a busy intersection. "It’s inefficient."

"It’s illegal," you corrected. "And it freaks people out!"

"But I’m helping."

"You're scaring people, Mark!"

He looked at the pedestrians, who were staring in horror after watching him lift a sedan with one hand.

"…They should be grateful."

You groaned. "Okay, we need to talk."

Mark didn’t understand human food, either.

"You’re telling me," he said, staring at the plate of pancakes in front of him, "that this is considered 'breakfast'?"

"Yeah?" you said, confused. "Why? What do you eat?"

His eyes darkened just slightly.

You decided not to ask.

Instead, you shoved a fork into his hand. "Just try it."

He sighed, looking skeptical—but took a bite.

And then… he froze.

You watched as his expression slowly shifted—surprise, wonder, then… something almost like awe.

"…This is good," he muttered.

You grinned. "See? Welcome to the magic of pancakes."

For the first time, he smiled.

A real, genuine, boyish grin. And it made your stomach flip.

-

Mark was blunt, honest, and terrifyingly intense.

But as time passed, he softened—at least around you.

You caught him watching you sometimes. Not in a creepy way—but in pure fascination.

"You’re so small," he’d say out of nowhere.

You raised an eyebrow. "Gee, thanks."

His lips twitched. "I like it."

…Oh.

Then there were the moments he got protective.

Like the time a guy got too close, too pushy.

Mark didn’t say a word. Didn’t need to.

He just stepped forward, standing at his full overpowering height, eyes glowing, and… yeah. The guy practically ran.

You had to drag Mark away before he could actually kill someone.

"You can’t just threaten people, Mark!"

"Why not?"

"Because that’s not how humans work!"

"Then how do I make sure no one touches you?"

You paused.

Your heart pounded.

"...You just ask me if I want them to."

His gaze flickered. He was silent for a long time before muttering, "I don’t want anyone else to touch you."

Oh.

-

Mark didn’t know what love was.

Not in the way humans did.

But he knew that whenever he was near you, his chest felt lighter. That when you laughed, something warm spread through him. That when you weren’t around, he felt restless.

And when someone even looked at you the wrong way, he had to physically restrain himself from acting on pure, primal instinct.

So, one night—he just asked.

"What does it mean when you want to keep someone?"

You blinked. "What?"

"When you don’t want anyone else near them. When you think about them constantly. When their happiness makes your chest feel—" he paused, searching for the word, "—lighter."

Your heart stopped.

Slowly, you set your drink down. "Mark…"

He stared at you, waiting. Expectant. Hopeful.

"You’re describing love," you whispered.

Something in his expression shifted.

For a long time, he didn’t say anything. Then, finally—he reached for your hand.

His grip was gentle. Careful.

Like he had already decided.

"Then, I love you."

And just like that—you were ruined.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Danny Fenton is Chip Skylark

Normally, I don't like doing multiple crossovers. I prefer to stick to just DC and DP. That being said, I have always loved the HC that Danny Fenton grows up to be Chip Skylark because it is the same creator and art style, so this is going to be an exception.

Bruce never understood the way people became obsessed with celebrities. He never experienced the whole "crush on the celebrity" or the urge to follow whatever scandal a celebrity was involved in (as long as no crime was committed).

If he liked an actor, it was because their moves and TV shows were good. Their acting had a range of roles that were well done. If he followed a singer or a band, it was because their music was something he enjoyed listening to. If he had a favorite sports player, they were terrific athletes who won competitions.

It was never because he thought them attractive or that he was burning with the need to know who they were dating. He didn't need to see every detail of their lives because he honestly didn't care if this singer was seen buying donuts on a random Saturday with an unknown man or if an athlete was seen buying from a discount bin.

It always made him uncomfortable how fans thought they had a right to a celebrities time. Running up and demanding autographs, taking videos or photos without consent and the worst of all, sending death threats to anyone they believe was stealing thier celebrity away.

He often heard people say that famous people knew what happened when you became famous, but that just sounded like an excuse not to treat another human being like a human being—at least to him.

The whole "they belong to the public now" was just....ugh.

Alfred was the same way. He got excited to meet someone famous from the theater but wasn't one to watch talk shows and sandals. Wasn't one to pin posters to walls or get offended when someone famous acted like a normal person.

Then Dick came to live at the manor, and although it confused him, Bruce let Dick get excited over a celebrity singer. Bought all the posters, signed CDs, met and greets, front row seats, and backstage passes if it made Dick happy.

Jason was the same with Broadway stars, gasping and babbling whenever someone he adored appeared on TV. Tim nearly fainted when he met that one famous skateboarder, framing the used napkin he had the man sign.

Steph adored that one Boxer, constantly babbling fun facts about the man that had nothing to do with boxing. Why would Bruce care what elementary school he went to? But he listened anyway.

Cass had dancers she went star-eyed for. There was that phase where she styled her hair the same way as her idol from Paris Oprea Ballet despite the fact that the style was only during nonperforming hours. Bruce had to special order the endorsed hair bands with a blue star of said Dancer.

Duke had an actor whom he never missed a single moive or show for. Even if the TV show she stared in flop from the terrible writing, the boy forced himself to sit through every minute if only because she appeared. He had a collection of DVDs long before moving in with Bruce and when Bruce took him to a special release night of her latest work, Duke had actually bursted into tears when they played her thank you for watching viedo before the movie started.

Really. Caring so much about people they didn't even know made no sense. He would understand if it was a fictional character, like the Grey Ghost because the character is and was just what that particular media presented. But real people? It was a real head-scratcher.

He assumed Damian would be the same as him. After all, Bruce knew his father, and his father's father had the same view of celebrities.

He was wrong.

"It's Chip Skylar!" His son screams at the top of his lungs when Danny's picture appears on the screen. His old college friend had contacted him asking if it was possible to have some special protection at his next concert.

Apparently, at the last one, he was kidnapped by some crazy fan and held hostage with a kid she babysat.

Seeing as Bruce and Danny often collaborated on tech for Batman (Before Danny got his big singing break, he was one of Gotham U's top engineering majors), Bruce saw no reason not to step in and offer help, especially if it turned out his kidnapping was due to magic, like Danny suspected.

He may not run around as Phantom anymore, but Danny had seen his fair share of magic users and magical creatures. That was the only explanation for how a tree had just appeared in the middle of the road and caused him to crash right in front of her house. She wasn't the cause of the magic, that much he was able to figure out when she chained him up, but it made Danny uneasy.

He was worried that the magic users would try again, and much like Superman, he had little to no defense against it.

"We're going to guard Chip Skylar!? " Damian hyperventilates, practically vibrating in his seat from excitement. "I get to meet Chip Skylar!?"

"You're a fan of his?" Bruce asks, slightly surprised, only to notice the same excitement on his children's faces.

"Ugh, duh. He's only like one of the most talented artists ever!" Steph gasped, pressing her hands over her mouth. "He once stopped to let a black cat, and every animal shelter in the state had their black cats adopted within a week!"

"I started flossing more regularly because of his Shinny Teeth song," Duke admits. "I couldn't get enough of that commercial."

Dick pulled out his phone, tapping rapidly. "I got to tell Wally. He will be so jealous I get to guard Chip Skylark!"

Bruce stared at all of them, wondering how even Jason and Cass seemed to be losing their minds over the same guy he once caught trying to drink three gallons of milk because, and he quotes, "It makes my bones go brrrrrrr"

"Danny is an amazing singer but-"

"Danny?" Tim snaps his eyes towards Bruce so fast, it took every ounce of his training not to flinch."How do you know Chip Skylark's birth name? Only the most dedicated fans know his non-stage name."

Bruce shrugs. "You all know how I feel about famous people. I'm not that dedicated of a fan but I happen to be friends with Danny. I can ask him to met you if you want-"

"YOU PERSONALLY KNOW CHIP SKYLARK, AND YOU DARED TO GIFT ME ART SUPPLIES FOR MY BIRTHDAY!? FATHER HOW COULD YOU!" Damian screeched, slamming his hands on the conference table as his siblings broke into an uproar.

Bruce honestly can never understand this.

[thousandyearphantombunker]

its not coddling to specifically go out of your way to teach a developmentally disabled person a skill they should 'just be able to pick up by watching others unless their r37@rd3d' like wtf is wrong with people who the whole thing with us is that we can't and it isn't because we get coddled into being 'spoiled manchildren/princess-conplex brats' it's because we need to actively be taught the skills that others pick up naturally on and yeah often times it can be, because of us having lower intelligence or poor physical coordination or being over sensitive to certain stimuli- what of it? Why make a big deal out of IQs or our clumsiness or sensory problems being the reason we can't just learn stuff- a lot of us will die and be sick if we are not taught these things-

Developmentally disabled people need people to actually go out of their way to teach them a lot of things. If we are dirty it's because no one taught us how to bathe and 'we were supposed to pick it up as we grew up because we saw our parents do it for us' is a bullshit argument- it's not our faults. It's not coddling to have someone go out of their way to actively teach us something we were supposed to passively pick up on- because we are actively learning a skill- and dear god the bullying you get because your late to all of these skills and it's for no good reason- to them sensory issues/poor motor skills just means your an oversensitive klutz. To them having a learning disability just means your stupid. If it makes you learn a skill late- to these people we are losers.

It's not coddling for us to use tools or actively be taught stuff. It's actually neglectful to not teach us.

Also advocating to neglect someone to make them more independent isn't the argument y'all think it is. Because a lot of neurotypical people get neglected by their parents and I wouldn't argue it made them more independent- they have emotional scars and a lot of them learned maladaptive ways to clean up their house or they struggle because the finer points of hygiene and nutrition are harder to pick up on than people think it is. They also die. Neglect doesn't create someone who is independent. It creates trauma.

Also to anyone who demonizes people who have been coddled- your a fucking idiot. Being coddled is a form of abuse- it's not fun to be coddled and have to rely on others and have your issues trivialized and your negative reactions be equated to that of a 6 years old throwing a tantrum and be told all your concerns are silly. It's not fun to have zero privacy and have no words to describe how awful you feel cause people use baby words around you and don't let you read 'big boy' books or watch 'big kid movies'. It's not fun to have so little faith in your own abilities or to have others have no faith in your abilities- and therefore you are incapable of acting on your own and have to play a passive role in your own life - others getting to make choices for you-It's not fun to not be able to eat for days if your dad leaves on a business trip for a short while and you almost starve to death because you can't take care of yourself and you need someone. It's not fun having no independence and having to rely on your abusers or die on the streets because you never learned about rent or how to cook or how to use a bus to get to a job. It's just another form of neglect- it also sucks to always have everyone assume that because you were coddled as a kid that you're a spoiled bratty Karen and apply all the negative cringe 'okay to bully' autistic traits on to you and act like your abusers where in the 'right'- that it was right to never allow you to hang out with other kids and that it was right of them to be stupidly strict/controlling because you effed up once which apparently proved them right about you.

Stop acting like overprotective strict parents are right- if your daughter does something stupid like running off with a stranger the second you look away then she's not the problem and you weren't doing the right thing by spying on her and never teaching her how to be safe- the reason she was unsafe is because of you. Because you coddled her. Stop justifying the actions of overprotective helicopter parents with 'but the kid is stupid/naive/too sensitive' because I can assure you the reason why the kid is naive is related to the shitty parenting.

Stop acting like being neglectful makes a kid more 'independent' all your doing is traumatizing them. All your breeding is low self confidence and personality disorders and bad coping mechanisms and anxiety disorders. All your doing is allowing them to get sick and eat unhealthy and go to school in weather inappropriate clothing- they have multiple missed vaccinations and yeah they can 'cook' for themselves (unhealthy slop that will leave them with zero energy)

Coddling isn't justified and people who grew up being coddled aren't bad people. They weren't privileged because being coddled isn't a privilege- it's just another form of neglect

Neglect doesn't help children gain skills- it doesn't forced them into learning to care for themselves. It forces them to suffer and hide it with maladaptive coping mechanisms. It causes them to have boundary issues causes them to daydream and unhealthy amount.

'I was abused and had to learn to care for myself because my parents were gonna let me die otherwise and if you can't handle the heat then your just less self sufficient than I am because your parents were too soft on you!' (meaning either your parents didn't traumatize you enough for you to be 'strong' and if they did then i either don't believe you because you didn't turn out like me/it scares me that I could've been like you or believe you just came out wrong and that my trauma made me superior)

Like all this attitude is, is a justification for child abuse

'pick yourself up by your bootstraps' unhealthy ass boomer mentality just applied to it childhood trauma and made it ableist. Neglect doesn't help children get stronger and being coddled isn't the victims fault.

to any parents reading this- if your kid has a developmental disability they will likely actively have to be taught certain skills- you cannot expect them to learn the way you did- you can't expect that they'll analyze and pick up on stuff passively like a neurotypical will- don't helicopter over them don't take over don't expect them to just learn- actually teach your kids how to take care of themselves. Neglect will teach them nothing and neither will coddling them- teach them step by step and actively make sure they understand what's going on- again don't take over or be condescending and don't force help that they don't want but you have to TEACH them and you have to do so ACTIVELY. Make a consistent purposeful effort.

I don’t think people understand how it is to have been behind on EVERY milestone. Learning how to walk? Late. Learning to read? Late. Learning to use the bathroom independently? Late. Every single milestone was late.

And when you have this, people ask questions. People bully you. Why can’t you shower by yourself at 9,10,15,20? Why can’t you brush your teeth independently and frequently? Why can’t you tie your shoes? Why can’t you do math? Why can’t you do this, or that.

And then there’s the people on social media. “Well I was forced to.” “Well I didn’t have a choice” and that’s understandable and completely valid, but there are people that no matter how much you force them, or neglect them so they “figure it out” they won’t “figure it out”. They’ll die. They’ll starve. They’ll not bathe and be dirty.

Higher support needs people don’t just “figure it out” our brains are wired differently. Our brains don’t get that we HAVE to do these things just to survive. So we don’t. And that sucks.

It’s disheartening to constantly hear people say “well i was forced to” because so was I!! I was forced to do things too! I was neglected too! And guess what? I still didn’t do those things. I STILL wasn’t able to meet those milestones.

The big one that I see is “well I’m forced to talk.” And I get that, but me, a person that’s nonverbal, can’t be forced to talk. No matter if I’m neglected, no matter if my device is taken away or I have no way of communication. I still wouldn’t be able to talk. I CANNOT force myself to talk. Get that through your heads. This is my reality, and although yours sucked there are still some people who cannot do things, and saying that they could if they were “forced” is invalidating of them.

[katsu2ji]

gentle reassurances — k. bakugou

a/n: katsuki can stay mad at a lot of people for a long time. you are most certainly not one of them.

“come here.”

there was no frustration or annoyance in his voice, breaking the tense silence between the two of you as you stood on opposite sides of the kitchen. the words he spoke were soft and calmer than they were just moments ago, and you knew he was putting in careful effort to keep it that way.

you stood there watching him for a few seconds, quiet. he couldn't read the warring emotions on your face as the two of you held eye contact, and for a moment, katsuki was so afraid that you weren't going to come to him—that you were going to turn around and leave him standing there alone with his arms open. that you would leave the argument unfinished, unresolved.

his worries disappeared, however, when you crossed the gap and stepped into his waiting arms. you breathed in his familiar scent as you wrapped your arms around him. he did the same as he buried his face in your hair and closed his eyes. he took a long, deep breath.

you were the first to speak. "i'm sorry. i shouldn't have yelled at you."

your voice was muffled against the fabric of his shirt, but his heart gave a squeeze nonetheless. you could feel his head shake against yours, one of his hands moving up and down your back.

"don't apologize," he mumbled, his voice equally as hushed. "i'm the one who came in annoyed. you did nothing wrong. it's just—" he took another deep, steadying breath. "it's been a long day. for both of us."

you hummed against him, not moving from your spot in his chest. "still, it wasn't right for me to yell back at you. i should've given you space when you came in."

katsuki frowned at that, pulling back just enough to look at you as his hands slid down to your waist. "space? why the hell do you think i'd need space from you?" he asked, brows furrowed.

you avoided eye contact, choosing instead to focus on a loose string from the hem of his shirt. katsuki stared at you for a moment before taking your hands in his.

"hey, look at me," he said. again, his voice carried no hint of anger or annoyance at your actions, just gentle reassurance. "you are the one person i will never—ever—need space from, you hear me?"

you knew this tone of voice. it was one he only ever used for you. katsuki wasn't a liar, you knew that—especially not when speaking like this.

he waited silently, watching you nod your head. he pulled you close again, kissing the top of your head.

"i love you, okay? today was long, and...and i shouldn't have yelled, but i never need space from you, alright?" he kissed your head again. "so don't think like that."

you closed your eyes, feeling his chest rumble as he spoke.

"i love you, too, kats." you leaned your head up. "can we go to bed now?"

you smiled at the chuckle he let out, feeling his body reverberate again. he gave you a squeeze, burying his head in the crook of your neck.

"for fucks sake, yes please. i'm exhausted." he placed a soft kiss on your neck, then smiled at you.

"no more arguing, okay? not worth arguing over stupid shit like this, anyway. not with you."

"oh, so you'd argue with someone else over stupid shit?" you teased.

he bit back a smile. "shut up. you know what i mean. no more fighting."

you smiled, kissing him. when you pulled back, he swore he could see the stars.

"no more fighting," you concluded, feeling contentment wash over the both of you.

katsu2ji © 2025. please don't copy, modify, or do anything of the sort with my work! i work very hard and you simply do not have my permission.

[pinecavity]

You never really had a birthday. Not in that place. Dates didn’t matter—just results. Just progress. Just whether or not you survived another round of whatever they put you through.

But Caleb decided that wasn’t good enough.

So he picked a day. Maybe it was the first time he saw you, 001, still small and scrawny and barely holding on, the weight of what they did to you pressed into your bones. Or maybe it was the day he found you again, weeks later, when you looked at him like a stranger and he had to swallow down the ache that came with it. Didn’t matter. What mattered was you had one now.

And even when there was nothing to give, he made sure you had something. A stolen candy slipped into your palm when no one was looking. His half of whatever food they managed that day, pushed onto your plate like it wasn’t even a question.

A whispered, “Happy birthday, pips. Guess you’re stuck with me another year.”

When you got out—really got out, when there were kitchens and real ingredients and choices—he figured it out. He had to.

It started with the small things. The first time he watched you pick at your food, eyes downcast, shoulders tight, he realized you didn’t know what you liked. That neither of you had ever had the chance to find out. Meals had always been something given in the laboratory, not chosen. Sustenance, not comfort.

So, he learned.

Messed with recipes until they were right. Memorized the way your face changed when something was good—really good—so he could do it again. So you’d never have to force something down again just because it was all there was. No more inedible slop. No more processed, tasteless things they used to keep you both alive but never full.

Even tried baking once. Scowled at the oven like it had personally offended him when the cake didn’t come out right. Stared at the sunken middle, the lopsided edges, arms crossed like he was trying to puzzle out where he went wrong. You laughed at him, and the sound made him forget why it even mattered.

(Still, the next day, there was a second attempt. And a third. Until your birthday cake came out perfect—fluffy, golden, just sweet enough, just how you like it. He acted like it wasn’t a big deal, but he let you have the first bite.)

And every year, no matter where you were, how much time had passed, he said it the same way. That soft, teasing lilt, like it was just another joke, just another day—like it wasn’t carrying something heavier beneath it.

“Happy birthday pip. Another year, huh? You let me stick around this long—think that means you’re stuck with me too.”

And the way he looks at you when he says it—eyes crinkled and bursting with love—like it’s a promise he’s already decided to keep. Like no matter what happens, no matter how many years come and go, you can count on him to celebrate you, over and over again.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

apologizing with a kiss - Joel Miller

900 Followers Milestone Celebration - kissing prompts

bio : This story is part of the 900 Followers Milestone Celebration - kissing prompts.

person ordering: @underneath-the-sky-again

warnings : a little bit of angst, fluff, kissing, some bad words, blood

[my masterlist]

"Shit! Shit! Shit!"

You kicked open the bathroom door and ran inside. Rushing to take off your jacket and shirt, you managed to throw a few other things on the ground, but you didn't have time to think about it. When you finally got out of your clothes, you glanced at your shoulder.

It didn't look good. A large shard of glass had pierced the layer of clothing and dug into your arm, leaving an ugly bleeding wound. Blood was dripping down your arm to your fingertips and dripping onto the tiles.

With your free hand, you turned on the tap and wet a cloth to wash everything. You had to quickly dress it before...

"Baby? Are you home?"

"Fuck!" you hissed to yourself. Joel was supposed to be with Tommy, but he must have changed his plans since he showed up at home at this hour. It was already dark outside, but it wasn't that late.

"Baby?" a familiar voice sounded at the door and you heard a quiet knock "Is everything okay? I thought someone was running up the stairs."

"Yeah! I'm okay." you lied, quickly glancing at the cloth that was dirty with your blood "I'll take a quick shower and I'll be right back."

"You were gone longer than you said, I was starting to worry." Joel fell silent after a moment "Is there...blood on the floor? Baby?"

"It's nothing, Joel. I just..."

The door opened before you could say anything else. Joel was looking at you, frowning. He was wearing a white T-shirt and sweatpants, he must have never left the house and had just holed himself up in his workshop.

"What the hell happened?" he asked, approaching and carefully taking your arm in his hands, he looked closely at the wound "You couldn't have done that on patrol, right? Where were you?"

You couldn't lie, not to Joel. Even though you had already lied to him, saying that you were going on a regular patrol instead of a friend. You took a deep breath.

"I was at that old shopping mall. I had to do something..."

"Have you lost your mind?" Joel hissed angrily "I told you not to go there alone."

"Peter was with me. Nothing happened to us! It is just a scratch." You replied quickly "I bumped into a glass case and..."

"Come with me."

Without a word, you and Joel went back to the bedroom and sat on the bed. After a few moments, he appeared with a first aid kit and started professionally dressing your wound. Still silent, still angry. You felt the emotions radiating from him, but you hadn't done anything wrong. You wanted to help and...

"Ouch!" you hissed when he put an alcohol swab on your wound "That hurts."

Still silence. You gritted your teeth and decided not to show that you were in pain. It wasn't until Joel tied the bandage and the dressing was ready that you dared to speak.

"I had to go there. I know I hid it from you and I'm sure it seems stupid..."

He put the first aid kit down and looked at you. “Why did you lie to me?” he asked. Damn, you would rather have him yell at you than look at you with such disappointment.

But you knew what you did was right and if it weren't for the accident, Joel would never have found out and you could have done something for him. The little lie was necessary.

"Because you would never have let me go there alone." you finally blurted out "And I wanted to do something for you!"

"Oh!" Joel raised his eyebrows ironically "Did you want to get yourself killed or something? Especially for me?"

"No!" you snorted "I wanted to find this for you."

You pulled a small package out of your back pocket and tossed it onto his lap. He looked at it in shock. Dark eyes widened in surprise.

"You said you needed new guitar strings. And I saw this music store in the mall and thought... I wanted to do something for you, Joel! If it weren't for that stupid display case..."

Your words seemed to finally reach him, because he turned the package over in his large hands, and then looked back at you.

"I'm sorry, I was..." Joel began, not even knowing what words should leave his mouth, he was too surprised.

"I wanted to do something for you, because you're always thinking about me and Ellie. I really didn't want to lie. I just didn't tell you exactly where I was going... You'd say it wasn't necessary, that you didn't need those strings, but in reality you'd give a lot to have them. So I went there and..."

A warm hand closed over yours and squeezed it gently. You lifted your head, looking at Joel in surprise. He was smiling at you, there was no trace of his earlier anger.

“You’re going to have a heart attack one day, but… I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that,” he said, clearly moved. “I still think it was crazy and that you hurt yourself, but… Thank you.”

You smiled, feeling tears welling up in your eyes. "I didn't mean to lie to you, Joel. It wasn't even a lie."

"It was, but... It doesn't matter." he stroked your cheek, looking at you fondly. "I'm sorry, babe."

"I'm sorry too." you replied quietly.

He leaned down and his soft lips brushed yours, once, twice, three times...

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry...I'm sorry..." you repeated quietly with each kiss.

"You're crazy, you know that?" he asked. You nodded without even opening your eyes.

"But will you kiss me again? I'd like to apologize to you some more."

“God, you’re lucky I love you,” Joel chuckled.

However, he granted your request. And even though you had a fresh bandage on your arm, you had completely forgotten about the pain.

[elysianholly]

So I got sucked into r/buffy again over the weekend (I know I know) and the amount of misogyny disguised as performative feminism is killing me. As is the attempt to distill S6 into a "Spike bad/Buffy victim" when the actual story is so much more complicated, nuanced, and heartbreaking than that.

I will say I absolutely sympathize with Buffy 100% throughout S6, more than I do Spike. This is a big reversal of how I felt 20 years ago, but reflective of my own experience with self-hatred and depression. That said, I also 100% sympathize with Spike and recognize a few fundamentals that antis can't seem to grasp:

He's trying to be what Buffy needs

He can't be what Buffy needs, but he doesn't understand why

He doesn't have a soul, ergo he's incapable of meeting her at the level she needs. This is not a choice on Spike's part; it's simply fucking nature.

Death/darkness/disassociating from society is a GOOD THING in Spike's mind. He found the ultimate freedom once he rejected societal pressures and stopped trying to win the approval of his peers. He fully believes Buffy will be happier if she does the same.

Is it selfish? OF COURSE IT'S SELFISH. He can't not be selfish because of the no-soul thing. But that doesn't mean his motives are inherently bad; it means his understanding of the situation is fundamentally flawed.

In Spike's mind, Buffy seeing things Spike's way is what will set her free. This mentality is of course wrong and toxic, but his intention is not to break her down, rather cut the chains he sees holding her back. Being human did him no favors. He's trying to share his experience and becomes increasingly desperate as these attempts fail.

Throughout all of S6, with very few exceptions, Buffy pursues Spike. She does in OMWF, Tabula Rasa, initiates sex in Smashed, Gone, Doublemeat Palace, and in Dead Things, save the balcony scene. We also see that she WANTS Spike in her dream sequence, specifically in her bed the way a normal boyfriend would be. Buffy's only source of comfort and support at a time when she needs it most is coming from someone she believes she should be ashamed of, and that is what hurts her more. She's expected to take care of Dawn, of Willow in the midst of her recovery, participate in a wedding, balance being the SOLE BREADWINNER in her home (for reasons that are never addressed, much less acknowledged), along with the intense trauma of having been ripped out of heaven and KNOWING that peace exists out there somewhere and she can't have it. That the only person who seems to see her struggle, understand her, and provide any reprieve is also someone she has been conditioned to believe she shouldn't like, much less love, compounds her intense self-loathing and her belief that she is wrong. She wants the answer to be that she came back wrong because being wrong means being released from the expectations and responsibilities of being Buffy Summers.

This is what Spike can't understand, and not because he's stupid or evil or selfish, but because by the show's own lore, he is incapable of understanding it. His best and only connection to the human world is broken; it's not Buffy's responsibility to be his compass, but she IS his compass. She's the reason he's changed as much as he has, how he models his behavior, the reason he has evolved, and she's emotionally incapable of being that for herself at the moment, much less him. Again, not a burden she should have to shoulder to begin with, but a result of the natural order as dictated by the show's lore. Spike's humanity is nurtured through his connection to Buffy, and his connection to Buffy changes from day to day as her internal processes change.

I don't think "mutually abusive" is the right term as we understand it outside of Buffyverse because that has a lot of real-world implications that are absent from this fictional paradigm. But setting aside those implications, the dynamic is MUTUAL and ABUSIVE. It is intellectually dishonest to apply human motivations and power dynamics on inhuman characters stripped of the very specific conditions that allowed those dynamics to become what they are. It's also appalling to claim that Buffy was Spike's victim when she was calling the shots throughout the bulk of their relationship; it completely strips Buffy of her agency. Women can be depressed. Women can make bad decisions. Women can flounder, struggle, and fail because of themselves and crack under the pressure others put them under without being someone's victim.

Also? Denying Buffy's abusive behavior to Spike is similarly appalling. Slayers are understood to be physically stronger than vampires, the same way as most men are understood to be physically stronger than women. If a man beat a woman bloody in an alley and abandoned her there, would you say she deserved it? Would it be acceptable if you knew she was asking for it? That the man had had a really bad day? That he was going through something and trying to work some stuff out?

Season 6 is complicated, especially the Spuffy dynamic, because these are two broken people trying to not be broken and unable to help each other the way they need. But they were broken people, and that fracture was mutual, regardless of how uncomfortable that is. It's also why Season 6 is one of the show's strongest seasons. It takes us to pretty awful places but also shows us the way out. Trying to minimize that or make it black-and-white is a lot of things, and none of them are good.

[what-even-is-thiss]

I’m sitting back and I’m thinking tonight about something I think about quite often, actually. That being the genocide and war going on in Gaza right now.

You might think that I never think about it because I never post about it. Well, that’s not true. The truth is that in the early days things were happening quite fast and I knew very very little about the history behind it. So I said nothing while I tried to sort out what the facts were because during the first days of the Ukraine war I had jumped the gun and talked and reblogged too fast and accidentally spread misinformation.

So I waited and watched. And I got so many hate messages for my silence. And when I tried to say I was waiting and learning I got more hate messages for that.

So after that I just said nothing. I also kept learning more. I know much more now. I’ve boycotted. In my personal life I’ve tried to educate people about it.

Most of all though, it greatly upsets me. Like all of it. I’ve seen videos of the Israeli hostages returning home lately and almost none of the reports I’ve watched have mentioned the role that Israel took in killing their own hostages. None of them are showing footage of Palestinian hostages or prisoners returning home.

I think I’m gonna go back to saying nothing after this post. But not because I’ve got nothing to say. Because I’ve moved beyond anger a long time ago and just moved into despair about the whole thing. I want to help. I can’t help. I’m broke, Israel isn’t letting aid in, I can’t tell fundraising campaigns from scam bots in my messages and even if I could I don’t have any money. On top of it all I’m watching President 47 be even worse than President 46 about it.

Yes I voted for Biden and Harris. I still hated what they were doing. I hated it with my entire body and soul. But I knew the alternative was the guy we’ve got now who is enthusiastically proposing to expel an oppressed people from their land and turn it into a beachfront resort.

I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do. The world feels full of impossible things right now. I’m upset. I’m something beyond upset all the time. I can’t look at the numbers for too long or I start literally throwing up. They’ve killed so many children and I can’t stop them.

But no my silence doesn’t mean that I don’t care. I feel like throwing up right now as I type. I can’t do anything. The cant do anything part aches in my bones. And it doesn’t matter. What matters is the people who are suffering.

So, that’s why I’ve been silent on that. Maybe it’s been the wrong choice. Maybe it hasn’t. I still don’t know. Anything I say on this always feels like it’s somehow wrong.

It just eats me inside so thoroughly that a people who lived through a genocide themselves would so enthusiastically support another one. I have no words for that. No words in the entire world.

I’m sorry for being silent. I honestly don’t know what else to do. My despair stops me from thinking clearly about any of this. I have no power. I don’t know what to say. I think I’ve just said all I can. There’s a lot of people out there a lot smarter than me who know a lot more about Gaza than I do. Don’t get your news from me.

[vroomvroomwee]

Don't get me wrong I love the fics/comics of Alastor being forced on a date with Vox (either because he needs something, has lost a bet, made a deal etc. wtv the reason) and he's suffering the entire time because Vox could not be any less impressive.

BUT

I haven't once seen a fic with the same plot, only Alastor doesn't want to go out with Vox because the date will be abysmal, but because he KNOWS he'll have the BEST time.

Think about it, we know they were friends before the "sad and complicated" falling out, which means Alastor (who barely stands men in general) must have enjoyed Vox's company so much that he allowed him in his close circle of friends, so close he actually let him take a picture. And no one can convince me that Vox doesn't know Alastor like the back of his hand.

They've spent years together, Vox would absolutely know what Alastor likes and what he doesn't. He would make the date as good as possible if only to irritate Alastor in a "this is what we could have had you fucking idiot" or a "admit that you missed me fool". He will buy him the biggest bouquet of roses imaginable, he will take him to his favorite restaurant in cannibal town (yes, his stalker ass knows which one Alastor’s favorite is), he will intentionally choose topics of conversation he knows Alastor is interested in and avoid any he isn't (*cough cough* modern tech), he puts on that charming gentlemanly attitude Alastor always falls for, he will get that man drunk off his ass and will pull him to the dance floor like he's done countless times before. He KNOWS what to do to make him happy, he's done it for years. The entire night is like one nostalgic walk in the park, it barely takes any effort from Vox. And besides, Vox's entire shtick is ingratiating himself to people and telling them exactly what they want to hear.

And Alastor HAAATES it.

He HATES how pleasant Vox's company is and no matter how hard he's tried to forget their past friendship, he gets swept right back up. No amount of denial or masking his enjoyment can hide it. He doesn't want to go on that date because he doesn't want to forget why they're enemies, he doesn't want to slide all of that pent up resentment under the rug and simply forgive and forget.

(This entire thing is made so much funnier if it's witnessed from a third person's perspective eg. Charlie. This girl is watching Alastor moping and complaining about having to go with the "ridiculous, inane picturebox" on a date like it's the worst thing that's ever happened to him and *proceed twelve hours later*, Alastor and Vox barge through the hotel doors drunk, bloody, missing several pieces of clothing, clutching onto each other for dear life looking like they've had several near death experiences, with the biggest, brightest smiles on both of their faces while they laugh their asses off.(they probably committed mass genocide))

[divadepreshawn]

𝑪𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆

Aaron Hotchner × fem!reader

Summary: Relationships are hard, especially if you let work consume you.

It was midnight and Aaron still hadn't come home. You knew he had more work to do because he was the boss and that he stayed at work longer than his colleagues to finish reports. This was never really a problem if it weren't for one detail: he didn't tell you anymore when he was staying late.

You want to believe that he didn't tell you because he figured you'd know he was going to stay late, because that would be a better reality than if he simply didn't care anymore. It's not that you were an insecure person, you know he wouldn't cheat on you, you know, but that doesn't ease the tightness in your heart.

Why doesn't he come home?

You go over the last week in your head. He wasn't rude to you or Jack, but he seemed… distant. The files that normally didn't come home were now scattered on his desk. Hell, there was even a damn report on the desk next to his bed. He barely touched his favorite food and when Jack handed him a drawing his smile barely reached his eyes, what were you missing?

You made his breakfast, took care of Jack when he had to travel for work, listened to his outburst about the cases when he came back from his trip, understood when he had to stay late at the BAU practically the entire week.

You were committed to this relationship, attentive and focused, devoted to making this relationship work, what are you doing wrong? It's like all the love you're giving him goes unnoticed, floating through the rooms of the house.

Is he even aware of this?

You hear the door open and close softly, you look up from the book you were trying to read to see Aaron take off his coat and get rid of his shoes.

"Hey" you say softly closing the book and placing it on the coffee table.

"Hi honey, are you still awake?" he glances at you briefly.

“I can’t sleep”

He hums “Don’t you have a client scheduled for tomorrow morning? You should try to sleep”

“I will… How was your day? Are you hungry?” You get up and walk towards the kitchen counter.

“Tiring”, he lets out a sigh “Rossi paid for dinner” he says walking away from the kitchen while loosening his tie.

You sigh, and here we go again, short answers. But he’s trying, you know that so you’re trying to be fair.

“Okay…” you walk towards him leaning against the bedroom door watching him look for his pajamas, “Jack wanted to know if you’ll be able to go to career day”.

“Hmm… when will that happen?” He asks grabbing your clothes and heading towards the bathroom.

“This Friday” You walk towards him holding his face and leaving a quick kiss on his lips “It’s important to him”

He sighs “I know, I will”.

You love him, you’ll get through this.

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Maybe you won’t go through this.

You’re trying, really trying, you’ve talked to him and he’s said he’s sorry and that things will be different.

You’re fighting for this marriage more than anyone else, and it’s right now that the realization hits you—as you bake a cake at midnight while waiting for Aaron to get home—You’re just like your mother.

You freeze, the spoon slowly slipping from your fingers, the sharp sound of metal hitting glass waking you up.

You can feel the lump starting to form in your throat as you try to control the tears from escaping your eyes.

You. Are. Just. Like. Your. Mother

You’re with an emotionally absent man who’s married to his job, a man who won’t talk about his hurts and who won’t completely change.

Just like your father.

Just like your grandfather.

A dry laugh escapes your lips as you pour the batter into a pan and place it in the oven.

“Lucky me,” you whisper sarcastically. “What a fucking curse,” you sigh, sitting down on the couch.

You want to break everything in sight at the same time that you want to just sit down and cry or walk away aimlessly, just to process this new information. You don’t know exactly how long you’ve been staring at the bookshelf in front of you when you’re awakened by Aaron’s voice.

“Hey, what do you hear?” he asks and you can see the confusion on his face.

You want to answer but you don’t trust your voice at the moment so you just keep looking at him in silence.

He’s really worried now, his attention is completely on you, he crosses his arms and you can see his mouth turning into a straight line as his eyes analyze you.

He analyzes you, you don’t look angry, your body isn’t rigid, your gaze isn’t hard… you’re sad, you’re hurt! When the realization hits him, he can feel something deep in his chest tearing him apart from the inside out, guilt.

He's seen that look before, it was the same look Haley gave him before she filed for divorce, oh no, he failed you too, suddenly his legs can't hold him up anymore, his tie is tight and the air is too thick. He rests his hands on the counter, unable to bear this fact.

You said this was hurting you and he did nothing to change it, he lived for work and now work was taking another person he loves… no, not again, he'll fight for you.

"I love you more than this job, please don't give up on me"

You click your tongue, turning your gaze back to the bookshelf "It's not what it seems"

"I know, I'm sorry, this job is hard and-" before he can finish his sentence you interrupt him.

"The problem isn't your job, not entirely"

"No?" he asks confused

“No Aaron, the problem is you!” You turn to look into his eyes, “Your job is hard, stressful and complicated? Okay, I already knew that when we started dating, the problem is that you completely immerse yourself in it, even at home.” You point to your office, “When did this start to come in here? Isn’t that the reason why you come home late? Just so you don’t have to bring the files home?”

You stand up and approach him, “You barely pay attention to anything when you’re at home, tell me when was the last time you sat at the table and asked Jack how his day was? Tell me when was the last time you used more than three words to answer my questions?”

“I-I… I don’t know,” he answers in a whisper, looking away.

“I don’t even remember the last time… Show me that you care, Aaron, because I’m going to break this and this damn hereditary curse will stop with me.” You move closer to him. “Damn, I want to hear every single thing Spencer says.” He hugs you around the waist, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Just come back to me,” you whisper, closing your eyes.

He sighs "I will".

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Sorry for any mistake, english is not my first language

And the cake is fine, Jack had it for breakfast

[aurelleporine]

Hello, Hayden Crappell here. I've come to apologize again, being I'm non-existent in this community again. I thought that this is my final attempt at making things right. I Realize I need to go to the worst place I fear things most, this post.

I want to come and publicly apologize for my previous actions a year-to-a-couple years ago. I was undergoing medicinal and mental issues during high school. I thought that being 17 meant I was invincible, which I was not. I knew, despite this evidence, I would inevitably fall from "grace".

I want to apologize, and I understand that I am a horrible person. Or... Was. I eventually got medicinal treatment, and bettered myself. I'm not sure how popular I'll ever be again. But if you want to see someone who truly had a heart out for people, that's who i actually wanted to be, not this creep.

I understand that what I did is irreversible, and at the time of me being so bizarre, I became worse because of private/unprivate drama, I'm not sure how much leaked out. As of now, I have zero hatred towards R.V. Pine, and I want to come, even though incredibly late, to apologize.

I realize the severity of my wrongdoings, and I hope that people can re-visit me. I understand how I look to all of you, a miserable wretch with no help.

But since that time, I've matured, become a man, a person who honors someone, who will not be willing to make a mistake such as this, a man who has learned from his mistakes. And I'm asking for support again. I have conquered my fear of facing my burdens here. And if necessary, flame me. I respect it.

I've tried to avoid ever coming back here for anything, I've abandoned tumblr for fear of rejection.

in fact, what I suffer with is Manic Bipolar, I have drastic mood swings, I have depression, anxiety, ADHD, and most importantly, Autism. I have no excuse to undermine my issues, my burdens I've set upon people. And to be frank? I'm dead-wrong.

So please, understand my viewpoint. And pine, if you see this, I'm incredibly sorry I've been so hateful to you. You're talented, and I was jealous of such a potential. I envied the days I would hopefully reach Toby Fox, wanting to be someone who could help make his game for him, a dream job if you will.

And the fame of my artistical presence got to me. I apologize, but now I'm ready to re-tackle it if people are willing. I understand that I sometimes have outbursts of anger, that I am imperfect, but so are all of us. And now that it has been so long... I'm sorry.

Here's a photo of me to prove it's actually me talking. I'm incredibly sorry to everyone who saw me in such a horrible condition and ceased supporting me. I want to be your one of your favorites, I deeply wish to please and help people be happy in life with my music and ideas.

I've tried for a long time to resist my mental issues, to throw them away. But no, being a man, a person who is learning every day, is to confront their problems with grace, and respect. Humility. I am sorry to everyone involved in any project I've ever had, I am sorry I affected you, said sexually explicit things to someone who I was interested in (17 years old), and I'm sorry for everyone who had firsthand experience with my mental issues.

You mean everything to me still, despite my agonizing rage I've thrown. I am sorry, and I just want people to love me again. That's why I get so bitter. I'm sorry about that too, actually. I'm working on fixing that. Please... Understand. Thank you.

Goodbye for now.

Very short "AWARENESS?" type post.

Not the kind of thing I like to do, but a user known as "Hayden Crappell" has been extremely creepy towards Temmie Chang and has been harassing and talking smack about multiple people. I'd recommend that people NOT interact with this user.

He has talked sexually about Temmie Chang on multiple occasions, someone who outright expressed discomfort before. I had made a comment trying to get through to him, telling him to stop talking about me as I want no involvement in his creeping on Temmie. He deflected this by bringing up that I was acquainted with "The Joker." Instead of actually taking time to reflect on the kind of person he is, he ignores criticism and pretends he has a divine sign telling him he's correct.

This parasocial crap will not stand with me.

[zivazivc]

How do you think Les would act toward Floyd older? After the third movie, I mean.

Calmer, and stable Floyd, who I'm guessing actually got some help in the village. Maybe Floyd got help by talking things out there with someone, like therapy-ish. Or, just his brothers helping him through it all, because that's probably what he needed.

Seeing him happier than when he last saw him.

And, his new hair! I mean, him learning of everything that happened.

Would they get together again, or rekindle whatever reasonship (staying just friends?)

Ohh my story has gone through so many changes and updates that I haven't really talked about on here so it's hard to answer this ask straightforwardly now. 😅

I have caved and decided Les and Floyd still end up together so... 🙈

"I thought you were dead..." | "'M sorry."

Here's an updated version of this old post:

The timeline right now is more or less the same with them having a nasty breakup when Floyd is 22. The cause for it is that until that point Floyd only has hypomanic episodes which raise some eyebrows but they aren't that concerning to anyone, not with the kind of lifestyle they are having anyway. But at the time of the breakup he suffers from full-blown mania with psychosis for the first time which hurts both him as well as Les and the other bandmates.

Then there's the 2 year period where they are apart and Floyd falls hard into substance abuse and bad habits. Then Les bumps into him at a party and gets them to talk outside. It's clear to both that they feel incredibly sorry about what happened when they broke up. Floyd quickly after coming down from his mania realized that what he believed was going was all a delusion his brain convinced him of. And Les feels responsible for the addicted and mentally unwell state Floyd has ended up in.

There's still love there but so much hurt and the trust they had is damaged to the point they're unsure if it's fixable. Neither of them knows how to even address what went down in those days leading up to the breakup.

Les decides to help Floyd get back on his feet but he doesn't want him near the band anymore. He's convinced that the band isn't good for him anyway. He finds him a place to stay and a job in a remote town where not much goes on so he has a chance to sober up. The band at this point is still trying to make it work by doing gigs, so Les visits him little by little in between to check on him during this time period.

They go back to being friends gradually and Floyd shows interest in getting back together romantically from early on while Les has trust issues he can't get past. Les is very reserved and non-confrontational when it comes to addressing his hurt so he doesn't bring it up. Floyd is usually the one who would make those conversations happen, but Floyd at this point isn't aware that he has bipolar and doesn't understand what happened (is happening) to him, and he is very uncomfortable addressing it too.

But eventually they can no longer tiptoe around the topic of their breakup. Les wants to know what happened and why Floyd accused him of the things he did - which to Les it felt like Floyd took everything Les had confided in him regarding his childhood abuse and throwing it back in his face. Floyd feels awful because the only explanation he has is that at the time he really thought they were true. He tells him that he knows they aren't true but that something was really really wrong with him. He tries to explain what he was going through the best he can and he also tells him that whenever he tried to address it back then he was accused of constantly getting high on worms behind their backs which is what caused his paranoia to spiral.

The conversation doesn't answer everything but it makes it clear to both that neither of them wanted to hurt the other person, especially not intentionally. Which is what allows them to make the step into getting back together.

But not long after this Floyd suffers another strong manic episode and messes up at his job and books it out of that town. Once Les finds him and sees him in that hyper and erratic state again but now with more understanding, he tries his hardest to bring it down and help, and he finally firmly tells him that he needs to get professional help. Floyd doesn't like the idea of going to therapy so he says he'll go only if Les goes too to work out his own trauma. Around this point it's also when the band officially breaks up (they just couldn't ever recover after losing Floyd and Liv) so Les has no excuses to give why he can't go and he eventually agrees.

Floyd finally gets his bipolar diagnosis (yay!) and gets "meds" for it, and this revelation also helps both of them to really put the breakup incident behind them.

After this point they're more or less together. I say "more or less" because they're not in a conventional relationship and they're not following the classic rules of being a couple. They know each other inside out and are both deeply and unconditionally in love with each other but whatever they have looks more like casual dating that's been going on for more than a decade. Sometimes they live together like an old married couple and sometimes they don't and they keep in touch through letters and scheduled calls in phone booths.

One day during their "apart time" Floyd stops answering those scheduled calls and Les gets worried and sets out to look for him, which turns into a desperate months-long search while tensions in the country are high, non Rock Trolls are getting arrested and disappearing left and right, and the Rock Kingdom is secretly planning their invasion of the other kingdoms.

.

.

.

[evenyvn]

Sick Day

Bsf!Jongho x Gn!Reader

Summary : in which you accidentally stood up your best friend because of cold.

Cw : gender neutral "you/yours" reader, sfw, fluff, best friend-to-lover (but the lover part isn't here yet), jongho is a tease, reader's size isn't mentioned but jongho can lift them up (he's strong af, it doesn't matter how big or how small you are, he can lift you up as easy as breaking those apples).

inspired by this zayne memories, it's one of my favorite 4* memories of zayne, writing this makes me miss playing L&DS now...

masterlist

You groaned as your eyes slowly opened, you feel your head pounding and body aching. A sneeze comes out from your nose, before feeling the congestion clogging your nose. Everything felt heavy, your limbs sluggish as you rolled over to grab your phone.

1:43 PM.

Your eyes widened in panic.

"Oh my god—Jongho!" you gasped, sitting up too quickly, making your head dizzy.

You were supposed to meet Jongho today. You both had planned this hangout a week ago, and now you had completely forgotten because of this stupid cold.

Before you could even process what to do, a loud knock echoed through your apartment making you flinch.

Dragging your aching body out of bed, you shuffled towards the front door of your apartment, feeling weak and feverish. As soon as you opened it you're greeted with Jongho, his arms crossed, expression unreadable.

"You finally answered, I've been standing here—knocking for the past 20 minutes," he said flatly.

You swallowed nervously. "Jongho, I—I’m so sorry. I—" You cut yourself off with a sniffle, eyes watering. The cold was making you more emotional than usual, and the sight of Jongho standing there, looking unimpressed, made you feel even worse.

Jongho’s stern expression wavered when he saw your bleary eyes, wet nose, and your hair was a mess—Clearly you just woken up—with a bad cold at that. He sigh as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

"You should've atleast texted me," he scolded, leading you back to your bedroom. "Do you think I wouldn’t be worried?"

"I—I forgot," You mumbled, sniffling again as Jongho tucked you into bed and sit on your bedside. "I didn’t mean to stood you up…"

Jongho exhaled through his nose. "I know," he muttered with a more soft voice this time, ruffling your messy hair gently before standing up. "That’s why I brought food. I figured something was wrong when you didn’t show up."

Your bleary eyes blinked at him. He ordered food before coming here? So he was never actually mad about being stood up—he was mad because he was worried.

You felt warm—not just from the fever but from Jongho’s actions.

"Just stay in bed, okay?" he said before turning towards the kitchen.

You hummed before sinking back into your bed, sighing softly. After a while of shifting, tossing and turning on the bed—and failed to fall back asleep, curiosity finally got the best of you and you dragged yourself to the kitchen, only to find Jongho rummaging through your cabinets.

"Where did you put your medicine box?" he asked, without even glancing over his shoulder.

"Oh, it’s just right above this cupboard—"

Before you could reach for it, Jongho stopped you with a firm hand on your wrist. "No, stop. I was just asking where it is."

You raised an eyebrow before huffing. "Jongho, it’s just a cold. I’m not disabled." You said slightly irked at him before trying to reach up again.

But before you can even touch the cabinet, Jongho simply lifted you up by your waist making you yelp and placed you on the counter behind him, as if you weighed nothing.

"Still stubborn as ever, even when you’re sick," he muttered, grabbing the medicine and setting it beside you on the counter.

Crossing your arms, you frowned. "I’m sick, and you’re not supposed to treat a sick person like this." You said as you watch jongho reached for a glass, the soft hum of the faucet filled the quiet kitchen as water streamed into the glass. He raised an eyebrow before turned on his heel.

As he walked back, placed the glass beside the medicine and stood between your legs, arms both beside your thighs on the counter—effectively caging you in.

"Oh yeah? Then how am I supposed to treat you?" he asked, voice dropping to a lower register.

You feel shiver run down your spine at the close proximity. "i don't know… maybe a little bit nicer... since I’m unwell," you stuttered, looking anywhere but at him.

Jongho smirked. He reached for your chin, tilting it face so your eyes met his. He leans closer until both of your foreheads touched and breaths mingling. His gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips before focusing back on your eyes, something unreadable in his expression.

"Is that what you want?" he murmured. "You want me to spoil you hm?"

Your brain short-circuited. Your throat dried up, and you couldn’t form words.

Satisfied with your reaction, Jongho finally pulled away, smirking. "Eat the food and take your medicine," he said nonchalantly, walking off.

It took you a moment to process what just happened before you yelled after him.

"Jongho, you jerk!"

divider by @.adornedwithlight | likes, reblogs, and comments are very appreciated ♡

[makeitmingi]

When Flowers Bloom In The Dark [Chapter 17]

Genre: Romance, Mafia!AU, Violence, Angst, Slow burn

Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Florist!Reader, Mafioso!Hongjoong, Mafioso!Seonghwa, Mafioso!Yunho, Mafioso!Yeosang, Mafioso!San, Mafioso!Mingi, Mafioso!Wooyoung, Mafioso!Jongho

Summary: When you appeared and wept at his mother's funeral, Hongjoong found himself wanting to find out more about you. A regular girl, who owns a flower shop in his territory and has a relationship with the mother that he hasn't spoken to in years, why hasn't he ever noticed you before?

[Warning(s): 18+ for violence, use of weapons, smoking, alcohol consumption, slight gore, gang affiliation, tattoos and character deaths. Minors DNI. This is a work of fiction and does not represent the Ateez members in real life.]

Word count: 3.2K

Hongjoong was pacing in his office, trying his best to focus on the conference call that was happening. He chewed on his thumbnail until he couldn't take it anymore.

"Okay, everyone shut up." He slammed his palms on the table and the other sides went quiet.

"Go fix your issues before you come to me again. You're all a mess and wasting my time!" He growled.

"Yes, boss nim!"

With that, the conference call ended. Hongjoong didn't know why he was so ticked off. But seeing everyone congregate around you to make sure you were okay while he stood at the side, it irritated him. Why couldn't he ask you if you were okay?

And the thought of you using Seonghwa's bathroom and his soaps, smelling like Seonghwa, made him dig for clothes and shove them into Seonghwa's arms to put on his bed for you.

"What's wrong with you, Kim Hongjoong?" He asked himself, massaging his temples.

"(y/n)!" Hongjoong heard Mingi's booming voice down the hall, followed by the onslaught of apologies from the tall male.

"Ah..." He threw his head back and left his office. He saw Seonghwa guiding you down the stairs. With his best friend there, how was he going to approach you?

"Excuse me." Seonghwa stepped aside to answer a phone call, leaving you there with a cup of tea to drink.

"(y/n). Are you alright?" He went downstairs and approached you. You seemed flustered as you put the tea cup down and stood up.

"Thanks for lending me your clothes, I'll wash them and return them as soon as my clothes are dry." You bowed to thank him. You were so awkward and formal with him, it was like you two were strangers again. Hongjoong was running around in circles in his head, he didn't know what to do or say.

"It's fine, (y/n). There's no rush for the clothes. Don't worry about it." He assured you. If he had to be honest, Hongjoong thought you looked cute in his clothes.

"If that's all, maybe I shouldn't take up more of your time." You forced a smile, evident that you wanted to get away.

"No, wait. You're not... Can we talk? ...Please." Hongjoong asked, that sounded a lot more like begging.

"Umm..." You fiddled with your fingers.

"Please, just for a bit. I won't take up too much of your time." Hongjoong promised. He didn't really know where to take you, going to his office was for work people but it was private.

"Do you mind coming to my office...?" He asked with a slight wince, not sure what to ask.

"Sure." Thankfully, you nodded and followed him up the stairs to where his office was. Hongjoong opened the door for you to enter.

"Feel free to sit anywhere." He gestured, observing the way your head was slightly lowered, kind of like a shamed student that was entering a principal's office to be punished.

"(y/n), I'm sorry. It seems like it's always the same thing, I do something that screws up our friendship and have to apologise for it. I just... I don't know how to act with people outside my 7 brothers, I'm not the best person..." He sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

"I don't mean to hurt you, (y/n). You know that, right? I'm trying to be a good friend but it seems like it's not really working, right?" He tried to crack a joke.

"Yeah..." You couldn't help but agree, forcing a smile.

"I- Ah..." Hongjoong threw his head back against the couch, unsure of how to phrase his words. You blinked at him, confused by his words.

"It's not an excuse but trust me when I say, I'm trying to protect you. That's why I said what I said that night. It's not about my image, I care about your image." He confessed.

"Protect me? What do you need to protect me from, Hongjoong?" You frowned slightly.

"I can't tell you." He winced.

"It's about your business or businesses, right? I can put two and two together, Hongjoong. That's what you're protecting me from." You guessed. Hongjoong sat up at your words and nodded.

"You're right. I can't tell you now but I will in due time. It's already dangerous for you, knowing my mother so I shouldn't add to that." He informed.

"But once again, I know it's not fair of me to ask but please be patient with me." He pleaded. Hongjoong didn't want to lose you, as a friend or as a person in his life. And you wouldn't admit to him that you felt the same way. Just like Mrs Kim, you felt like Hongjoong brought some sort of importance in your life.

"You were hurt when I saw you at the tournament. Is that why you were avoiding me even before that?" You asked.

"I'll answer that, only if you don't proceed to ask me how I got injured." Hongjoong stared at you, a playful glint in his eye. You rolled your eyes and nodded in agreement.

"Yes. I was injured and I didn't want you to see me limping around with a cane like a grandpa." He chuckled.

"A grandpa?" You snickered.

"I have already got enough teasing from the other kids about it. Although, I believe you wouldn't be like them and tease me, you would worry." He groaned.

"You're right, I wouldn't tease you... But are you better now? Recovered?" You asked.

"Mhmm, I'm all recovered. Seonghwa can't even poke my bruises to threaten me anymore." He leaned back with a proud smile.

"I'm happy for you?" You tilted your head, unsure of what response to give. Hongjoong laughed and stood up, gesturing for you to follow him. The two of you walked out.

"Show me the progress on the garden. I don't want to continue talking in my office, it's quite stuffy, isn't it?" He smiled as you walked side by side, going down the stairs. He didn't miss the way your eyes lit up with excitement, nodding your head.

As the two of you strolled around the garden, Hongjoong intently listened to you update him on the garden, telling him what you have been doing and changes you've made.

"I'm excited to tell the staff about the herb garden. And I planted a few vegetables as well." You informed.

"I didn't think our garden was capable of doing that." Hongjoong raised his eyebrows.

"Well, of course the weather makes it hard to grow ALL vegetables. But there are a handful you can grow, you just have to eat what grows in season." You explained.

"Can't wait." Hongjoong chuckled.

"Why is (y/n) showing hyung the vegetable garden? He doesn't even eat vegetables." Wooyoung scoffed.

"He probably told her that he loves it." Seonghwa chuckled with a shake of his head. The group of them were in the lounge area on the second floor, watching the two of you stroll in the garden.

"You should get back to work or the others might think you're slacking." You said to him with your hands on your hips.

"I'm kind of the boss around here so no one would say I'm slacking." Hongjoong scoffed.

"Are you trying to convince me or yourself? Because it seems like Seonghwa's the real boss around here." You threw your head back in laughter while Hongjoong's jaw dropped slightly. You smirked to yourself as Hongjoong held his hands up in defeat and headed back into the house, letting you get back to finishing your work.

"So, you like vegetables now, hyung?" Hongjoong came in and looked up to see all 7 brothers staring down at him from the banister of the second floor lounge with knowing smiles.

"Shut up. Go back to work!" Hongjoong barked at everyone. The boys all scurried, except Seonghwa.

"I hate that you're not intimidated by me." Hongjoong rolled his eyes as he walked up the stairs while Seonghwa had a smirk on his face.

"There's nothing for me to be scared of. The number of times I've seen your clumsy self fall flat on your face outweighs how scary you can be." He chuckled.

"You know wayyy too much." Hongjoong glared.

"Mmm, the ammunition comes in handy sometimes." Seonghwa punched Hongjoong's arm and headed back to his office.

"Hyung, free for me to run numbers with you and Jongho?" Yeosang asked. Hongjoong checked his watch and nodded, walking to his office with the two.

"Yeosang hyung gave me a run down of the contracts that were offered with the equities and shares. I managed to work the numbers out to see if we should sign it or not." Jongho explained, taking a seat in one of the chairs.

"Okay, hang on. I think I should call Hwa in to look at the numbers too." Hongjoong said, sending a message to his best friend. Seonghwa walked in a few minutes later.

"Sorry, you'll have to share the copy with Hongjoong hyung." Jongho said. Seonghwa nodded and sat beside Hongjoong.

"So I've circled the main points of focus. I'll go through each one." He started the discussion.

As you continued your work, you were a little more careful about getting any mud or dirt on Hongjoong's clothes, even if he told you he was not bothered.

"pH levels are good." You smiled in satisfaction, looking at the test strip. Then you wrote it down in your notes.

"Miss (y/n), would you like some refreshments?" One of the maids came out and bowed to you.

"I'm good, thank you. Could I get a broom to clear the pavements of the dirt and debris, please? Oh! And trash bags too." You requested with a sheepish smile.

"Ah, you can just leave it and we'll clean it up later. Don't worry about it." She smiled.

"Nonsense, I made the mess, I should clean it up. It won't take too long. Besides, I don't want to risk anyone tripping or slipping. Some of the guys can be a little clumsy." You chuckled. The maid had to stifle a laugh but nodded in agreement, bowing before she left to get you what you needed.

"Thank you." She opened the trash bag for you to gather the dirt, roots and leaves that you've pruned to toss in. She followed you to each plot with the trash bag.

"You can just leave it. I wouldn't want to take you away from your other tasks." You smiled.

"It's okay. There's nothing urgent that needs me." She assured you.

"That should be all for now though. I'll just do some other stuff to finish up for today." You told her as she tied up the bags and put them to the side.

"Alright, if you need anymore help. Please do not hesitate to ask any of us." She bowed deeply and headed back in.

"(y/n)! Stop working and come! The chefs made pie and it's still hot!" San yelled from the doors. You straightened up from where you were packing dirt around the plant's roots.

"Alright!" You replied and packed your things before jogging back to the house. You went to wash your hands first.

"Oh! Hongjoong, I didn't see you there. Are you alright?" You nearly bumped into the male, noticing the ghastly tired look on his face. He let out a long sigh, rubbing his face with his hands, showing that he was not ok.

"Just technical work stuff, I don't like working with numbers. Got distracted when I heard the others yelling about pie or something." He chuckled.

"It's good to take breaks, especially pie breaks." You giggled.

"There you are!" Mingi cheered when he saw you and Hongjoong enter the dining room.

"Would you like custard or ice cream with your pie?" Wooyoung asked, pulling you in and sat you down in one of the seats.

"Ice cream, please." You requested. Soon, the butler placed a dish with the slice of warm pie and one scoop of vanilla ice cream on top with some sort of crumble topping.

"Hey, (y/n) should sit here." Yunho said, pointing to the seat next to him.

"I sit there." Mingi shot his best friend a betrayed look.

"It's okay, I'll just stay here." You chuckled. You didn't want to get involved in their best friend squabble.

"Good choice, (y/n)." Wooyoung smiled triumphantly, holding his plate of pie in his hand and taking the seat next to you. The others jeered at him while he just stuck his tongue out at them. You giggled, they could be so childish for grown men. Hongjoong shook his head and let out a sigh of despair.

"How's the pie?" Yeosang asked you with a kind smile, not bothered by his brothers' childishness. You covered your mouth as you chewed, giving him a thumbs up.

"Okay, kids. Enough. Eat your food." Seonghwa said, getting between the others like a mother.

"I swear I have no idea how they're functioning adults. They're actually 5 years old." Hongjoong clicked his tongue.

You sat quietly, noticing how they interacted with each other. They were just like a regular family, with Seonghwa and Hongjoong as the parents of 6 kids, all with different personalities.

"(y/n), would you like to stay for dinner?" San invited.

"Oh, I shouldn't..." You rubbed the back of your neck, already feeling like you overstayed.

"Nonsense. We already established that you're not just a regular employee here. You should stay! The chefs are making a nice seafood dinner." Wooyoung said.

"Yeah, you should stay. I'll take you home after." Hongjoong offered with a kind smile. After apologising and making up with you, Hongjoong wasn't ready for you to go home yet. He wanted you to stick around longer.

"But of course, if you have other engagements, we understand." Seonghwa interjected, not wanting you to feel pressured to stay for dinner. You sent him a grateful smile.

"Ah... alright..." You nodded.

"But no more going back to work! You should join us for games, do you know Mario Kart?" Yunho asked.

"Yes but I haven't played it in a long time. I think the last time I played it was after school at an arcade? I don't have a game console." You tried to remember.

"Don't worry, we'll go easy on you the first round." Mingi smirked.

"I don't know..." You felt like you shouldn't be playing around during your working hours, it felt wrong especially since you were paid.

"Well we pay you and we say it's fine! We'd much rather you come and game with us." San winked, resting his head on his hand as he finished his dessert.

"But-" You shot Hongjoong a conflicted look, wanting him to somehow rescue you.

"Go on and have fun." He chuckled, leaning back in his seat. You sighed as you let the others lead you away to the theatre room to game. Of course, they wouldn't have brought you to Yunho and Jongho's computer room to game. It was too risky and there might be important information scattered around.

"Don't be late for dinner!" Seonghwa yelled as you all went upstairs. Hongjoong shook his head with a laugh and wiped his mouth with the napkin before standing.

"Where are you headed?" His best friend asked him.

"A nap. All I see are Jongho's numbers in my head and it's hurting my brain." Hongjoong yawned.

"Aren't you going to join them to game? (y/n) might appreciated your support as she competes against the rest." Seonghwa stated with an amused smile.

"I know what you're trying to do and I'm telling you to stop that. It'll embarrass her and make things awkward." Hongjoong glared.

"I'm not doing anything~" Seonghwa sang innocently and the two went upstairs to their rooms.

"You're becoming more human, Joong. And that's not necessarily a bad thing." The taller said before entering his bedroom. Hongjoong opened his mouth to clear his confusion but decided against it and entered his bedroom. He leaned against his closed door.

"More... human..." He repeated Seonghwa's words, heading to his bathroom to wash his face and change out of his business suit so he could nap comfortably.

"Oh my gosh! I won!" You jumped up and cheered, hi-fiving Yunho.

"Beginner's luck!" The other 3 competing against you excused, making you roll your eyes.

"You guys are such sore losers." You pointed at them. Mingi boo'ed, Wooyoung jeered at you with a thumbs down and Jongho demanded a rematch.

"You were great, (y/n)." San and Yeosang shot you encouraging smiles with thumbs up.

"Thank you, peanut gallery." You curtsied.

"No, no, no. Rematch! And we won't go easy anymore. Get ready to lose!" Jongho growled, showing just how competitive he is.

"Sorry, I don't race with losers I've already beat." You said with a confident shrug, making San, Yunho and Yeosang wince at your words. Of course, you were just joking.

"Okay, ONE rematch. You win again, you'll take the title of 'champion' and you have gloating rights!" Mingi stated, trying to negotiate with you. You rolled your eyes dramatically and sat back down, taking your controller back. Wooyoung cracked his fingers and neck while Jongho chugged his energy drink.

"You guys are so dramatic! She's just gonna beat you again!" San hollered at them. Luckily this room was sound proof because Hongjoong and Seonghwa would have definitely heard the shouting.

"Are you ready to lose?" Wooyoung nudged you.

"Ready to watch the back of my car the entire time?" You asked back. Yeosang shook his head while Yunho cheered.

"Go, (y/n)! Hurry up so we can have a turn!" Yunho yelled. Jongho loaded a new race. As the race counted down, the room grew silent. Only the game sounds were heard.

"It's 3 vs 1! That's unfair!" You screamed as you narrowly dodged the shell Mingi threw.

"Hey, play fair!" Yeosang said.

"All's fair in love and war." Jongho growled. Glancing at the other screens, you saw Wooyoung ready to launch a blue shell at you so you breaked and let Jongho go in front, only for the shell to hit him.

"Hyung!" Jongho roared as you laughed victoriously and raced forward as Jongho's character took 2 seconds to recover.

"Winner!" You shouted. San, Yeosang and Yunho ran to you to join your celebration, the group of you hugging each other and jumping in a circle like you won the Nobel Prize or something. Although, you were unaware you were being watched the entire time.

"What's all the ruckus?" Hongjoong raised an eyebrow as he walked in with Seonghwa beside him.

"I won!" You giggled.

"She beat all of them, twice." Yunho informed the oldest two. They had amused looks on their faces. With how competitive everyone is, they were surprised your beat them twice.

"Now, a celebration dinner awaits. And I'm pretty sure you were granted gloating rights?" Seonghwa asked.

"Of course." You grinned.

"Aww, we didn't get to play yet!" Yunho, Yeosang and San complained but Seonghwa was not going to have his dinner delayed. He turned the game off and ushered the boys out of the theatre.

"I think you'll fit in just fine, (y/n). If you can handle them, you can handle anything." Hongjoong chuckled.

~

Series masterlist

[wifelivvyx]

Watching Him on Inside (Part 2).

You should’ve put your phone down.

Really.

But instead, you were still scrolling, still reading through tweet after tweet, as if you were trying to torture yourself.

— "Their chemistry is so good, are we sure they’re not secretly dating??" — "George is so different when he’s with her. They have something. I just KNOW it." — "Not to be dramatic, but I would die for them."

You groaned, flopping back against the couch.

This was ridiculous.

George was your boyfriend. Not hers. Not the Internet’s. Yours.

And yet, somehow, Twitter had collectively decided that they were soulmates.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. You weren’t jealous. You knew George. You trusted him. He’d even joked about this before leaving, telling you, "If I get a weird ‘ship name’ on Twitter, just remember: I only fancy one person, and she’s sitting right next to me eating half my chips."

And yet—

Your stomach twisted as you watched the screen.

Because there he was again—sitting with her, separate from the chaos, talking, laughing, nudging her with his knee.

You knew that laugh.

You knew that look.

And clearly, so did everyone else.

"Why am I doing this to myself?" you muttered, finally putting your phone down.

But just as you did—

A new confessional popped up on-screen.

George.

His stupid, cheeky smirk aimed right at the camera.

"So apparently people think I fancy her," he said, completely unbothered. "I’ve seen the tweets. Very flattering. Wrong, but flattering."

You froze.

"She’s great," he continued. "We get on really well. But yeah, nah—" He glanced off-camera, grinning. "There’s only one girl I fancy. And she’s probably watching this right now, getting very annoyed at the internet."

Your heart stopped.

Then—

A jump cut to him sitting on the couch, scrolling his phone.

"If you’re reading the tweets, babe, put the phone down," he said, smirking. "You’re not gonna like them."

Your mouth fell open.

The show knew.

They’d edited that in on purpose.

And suddenly, your timeline was exploding.

— "WAIT WAIT WAIT—GEORGE HAS A GF??" — "Not me thinking I had a chance and he’s been taken this whole time 💀" — "Imagine being his gf watching this LMAO she must be FUMING." — "WHO IS SHE. SHOW YOURSELF, QUEEN."

You stared at the screen.

Then at your phone.

Then back at the screen.

And finally—after a long moment—you burst out laughing.

Because of course George had done that.

Of course he knew you’d be fuming.

And of course, because he was him, he had to wind you up about it.

You were going to kill him when he got home.

But first—

You grabbed your phone and texted him.

[You’re the worst.]

A few minutes later, your phone buzzed.

[I know. Love you. ]