#THIS is the one that gets this kind of reaction--

[fear-less]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 she ignored my letter!

pairing: james potter x f!reader

➥ In which, James writes you a love letter and hides it into your luggage carrying your clothes, not knowing he put it in a pocket you never open.

Warnings: angst, fluff, james pov, this inspired by awae (aka the best show ever)

a/n: heyyy... i had sm fun writing this, can't wait to write the rest of this bc i literally LOVE anne with an e and this is inspired by it ofc!!!! anyways, im barely writing now..smh, its cause im reading manacled and its literally heart breaking... im also editing on ae and its so hard so im slowly learning😭 but i want to finish this mini series by next week!!

series masterlist ! - divider creds: i-mmaculatus & dollywons

James had liked you for a while now. He wasn’t quite sure when it started—maybe it was the way you laughed at his jokes, always the loudest in the room. Or perhaps it was when he’d catch you staring at him, your gaze lingering just a bit too long, thinking he was too distracted to notice.

With the Christmas holidays fast approaching, James knew he had to make a move. He had to let you know how he felt. If you didn’t feel the same, maybe the time apart over the holiday would make it less awkward. But he couldn’t let another term slip by in silence.

Knowing your love for all things old-fashioned, James decided there was no better way to confess his feelings than through a handwritten letter. It felt personal, genuine—something you’d appreciate. But writing it turned out to be harder than he imagined.

He’d written and discarded at least a dozen drafts, each one crumpled and tossed aside in frustration. Finally, after half an hour of agonizing over the perfect words, he settled on this version. It was short, straightforward, and sincere:

Dear, (Y/N)

I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a complete idiot. I’ve tried a hundred times, and every single attempt has been worse than the last. So here’s the truth—I’m hopelessly in love with you.

You’ve probably guessed I’m not great at being subtle. But what I’ve never been able to say outright is how much you mean to me. The way you laugh, the way your nose scrunches when you’re concentrating—Merlin, you make it impossible to focus on anything else. I want you to know that you’ve made me braver, happier, better. If you don’t feel the same, that’s okay—I just needed to get this off my chest.

Yours, James

He sighed deeply, folding the letter carefully before slipping it into an envelope. Your name was written on the front in his slightly shaky handwriting. Taking a steadying breath, he tucked it into the inside pocket of his robes. He’d leave it somewhere you’d find it tomorrow, just before you both left for the holidays.

As he lay awake that night, James tried to figure out the best way to deliver the letter. Should he hand it to you directly? No, that was too nerve-wracking—he’d probably end up babbling like an idiot. Maybe he could slip it into your bag and avoid the risk of witnessing your reaction.

The morning was crisp, the kind of cold that painted your cheeks red and sent little clouds of breath swirling in the air. On the platform, the train sat waiting, puffing out plumes of steam that mingled with the frosty air. It was alive with the sound of students saying goodbye and dragging their luggage over the cobblestones.

James walked beside you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He was doing his best to appear casual, though every step he took felt heavier with the weight of the letter in his robe.

“Let me take that for you,” he blurted suddenly, nodding toward your luggage.

You blinked, surprised by the offer, but your lips curved into a warm smile. “Oh, thanks, James. That’s really sweet of you.”

He shrugged, trying to play it cool, but his ears turned a telltale shade of pink at your words. “What kind of bloke would I be if I didn’t help you out?” he mumbled, his voice tinged with nervous humor.

The two of you chatted as you strolled toward the train. You told him about your plans for the holidays—how you were excited to see your family, how your mum always made far too much food, and how you couldn’t wait to decorate the tree. James listened intently, nodding and laughing at all the right moments, even as his mind raced ahead to the task at hand.

Then, his opportunity came.

You turned away for a brief moment, waving at one of your friends across the platform. James acted quickly, pulling the envelope from his pocket and slipping it into the outermost compartment of your bag. His fingers brushed the fabric for only a second, but it felt like an eternity.

His heart was hammering so loudly he was certain it could be heard over the clamor of the platform. He straightened up just as you turned back to him, completely oblivious to what had just transpired.

“Thanks again for carrying that,” you said with a smile, your eyes meeting his.

James gave a small, lopsided grin and shifted your bag on his shoulder. “Anytime,” he replied, his voice steady despite the storm of nerves swirling inside him.

As the train’s whistle blew, signaling it was time to board, James knew there was no turning back now. All he could do was wait—and hope that when you found the letter, you’d read it and understand the words that had taken him so long to say.

It had been days since you’d left for the holidays, and James still hadn’t heard from you. Each passing day only worsened the sinking feeling in his chest.

Did you not feel the same? Did you hate him for ruining the friendship? Or worse, were you so disgusted by his confession that you couldn’t even bear to send him a letter saying so?

By Christmas morning, the knot of worry in James’s stomach had become unbearable. He’d stopped pacing and pretending not to care. He spent the early hours staring at the window, waiting for an owl that seemed as though it would never come.

But then, just as the first rays of sunlight streamed through his frosted window, he saw it—a familiar owl perched outside, clutching a small envelope in its talons. His heart leapt with a desperate flicker of hope. Maybe you’d only just found the letter. Maybe you’d taken your time because you wanted to write something perfect.

James hurried to open the window, shivering as the cold air rushed in. The owl extended its leg, allowing him to untie the letter. “Thanks, mate,” James murmured, absently offering the owl a treat before it flew off into the winter sky.

His fingers trembled as he opened the envelope, eager to see your handwriting. But his heart sank the moment he read the first line.

“Happy Christmas, James!”

No mention of his letter. No response to his confession. Just a short, cheerful note wishing him a wonderful holiday and apologizing for not writing sooner. You explained that things had been hectic at home and promised to catch up with him soon.

James felt his chest tighten, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. The hope he’d been clinging to was slipping through his fingers.

You’d ignored his letter.

You’d chosen to act as though he’d never written it at all, as if he’d never poured his heart out on that piece of parchment.

James scoffed, his grip on the letter tightening. Fine, he thought bitterly. If you were going to pretend his confession didn’t exist, he could do the same.

He shoved the letter onto his desk, glaring at it as if it were the source of his frustration. Deep down, though, he knew the truth: he didn’t want to ignore you. He wanted to write back, to ask if you’d found the letter, to make sure you weren’t upset with him.

But pride was a stubborn thing, and James Potter wasn’t about to let his vulnerability show again—not now.

As the snow fell softly outside his window, James sat in silence, staring at the letter and wondering if he’d made a mistake by ever writing to you in the first place.

When it was time to return to Hogwarts, James made no effort to find you. Normally, he’d scan the platform, pretending it was a coincidence whenever his eyes landed on you. This time, he couldn’t bring himself to look.

He saw you anyway, just briefly—standing near your family, your face lit up with that familiar smile. His heart leaped in his chest, and his legs almost betrayed him, ready to stride over and say something, anything. But he stopped himself.

Instead, James turned sharply, mumbling a quick goodbye to his parents before heading onto the train. He didn’t want to see you—not now.

The walk through the train felt heavier than usual. He knew exactly where his friends would be—the same compartment they’d claimed since their first year—but it felt like an eternity to get there. When he finally slid open the door, the familiar faces of Sirius, Remus, and Peter greeted him.

“Oi, Prongs!” Sirius called cheerfully, but his grin faltered when James slumped onto the seat next to Peter with a loud huff.

James leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. He could feel Sirius’s gaze on him, curious and probing.

“What’s got your wand in a knot?” Sirius asked, unable to resist.

“Don’t.” James’s voice was sharp, firm. It was rare for him to be in a foul mood, let alone snappish.

Sirius raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I won’t say a word.”

The tension in the compartment was palpable. The train rattled on, and the usual chatter of the four friends was noticeably absent. Sirius kept stealing glances at James, who sat brooding, arms crossed. Peter fidgeted nervously, while Remus flipped through a book, clearly uncomfortable with the silence.

Finally, about an hour into the ride, James broke.

“She ignored my letter.” His voice was low, bitter, but it shattered the quiet like a hex.

The others exchanged looks before Peter spoke hesitantly. “She really ignored it?”

“Yes, Peter,” James snapped, his tone sharp enough to make Peter flinch. Realizing what he’d done, James sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” Peter mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

“Maybe she didn’t see it,” Remus offered, his tone calm and rational. “What if it got lost in her luggage? Or someone else found it and hid it? Maybe you gave her another piece of parchment? There’s always a chance—”

“Moony, no.” James cut him off, his voice strained. “I double-checked. It was the right letter, in the right spot. And who doesn’t check their trunk full of clothes over the holiday?”

“Maybe she doesn’t,” Sirius said with a shrug, trying to lighten the mood. “You know, women can be unpredictable. Maybe she’s got a secret stash for random letters in her trunk.”

“No, she checks,” James said with certainty. “I’ve slipped plenty of things into her luggage before, and she’s always found them. She just doesn’t fancy me back.” His voice cracked slightly at the end, but he forced a small, bitter smile. “And it’s fine. I’ll get over it. I always do, right?”

The compartment fell silent again, the weight of James’s words sinking in.

Sirius leaned forward, a flicker of frustration in his eyes. “It’s not fine, James. If she didn’t fancy you back, that’s one thing. But ignoring you? That’s—”

“Don’t,” James interrupted quietly, his gaze fixed on the floor. “Don’t make it worse, Padfoot.”

Sirius bit back a retort and leaned back in his seat, muttering under his breath.

The rest of the ride passed more comfortably, but the shadow of James’s disappointment lingered. His friends cracked jokes and told stories, trying to lift his spirits, but even when he laughed, it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Deep down, James wondered if he’d ever stop wishing that you’d read his letter and felt the same way.

Hours later, everyone had gathered in the Great Hall. The enchanted ceiling reflected the dusky evening sky, and the buzz of students catching up after the holiday filled the room. Normally, James would sit with Sirius to his left, you to his right, and Remus and Peter across from him. It was a familiar arrangement, one you’d fallen into without question.

But tonight, James broke the routine.

He subtly nudged Peter into the spot on his right before sitting down, leaving the space where you’d usually sit conspicuously empty.

You walked in a moment later, scanning the Gryffindor table until you spotted your usual group. But when you approached, your steps faltered. Peter sat where you always did, looking apologetic but saying nothing.

Your eyes darted to James, silently questioning him, but he avoided your gaze, his attention fixed stubbornly on his plate.

Confused, you looked to Remus for an explanation. Out of all the Marauders, he was the one you trusted most to give you a straight answer. But Remus only shrugged, his expression carefully neutral, though the twitch at the corner of his mouth hinted at discomfort.

You scoffed, your chest tightening. First, James ignored you all through the holiday, and now he didn’t even want to sit near you? Fine. If he wanted to sulk like a child, you weren’t going to beg for his attention.

Without another word, you turned on your heel and walked further down the table, sliding into a seat beside your other group of friends. You forced yourself to laugh at their jokes and join in their chatter, but your mind kept wandering back to James.

At the Gryffindor table, James���s eyes flicked toward you more often than he’d admit. Every time he saw you laughing with your friends, his stomach twisted.

“Why is she acting like I’m the one in the wrong?” James muttered under his breath, jabbing at a piece of roast potato with his fork.

“Maybe because you’re acting like a prat?” Sirius replied, his tone laced with amusement as he leaned closer.

James shot him a glare.

“Look, Prongs,” Sirius continued, dropping the teasing. “She doesn’t know what’s going on. You didn’t even give her a chance to explain, and now you’re sulking like a first-year who lost his chocolate frog cards.”

“Explain what? She ignored my letter, Padfoot. What’s there to explain?” James hissed, though his tone lacked its usual conviction.

Remus sighed, setting down his goblet. “Did it ever cross your mind that maybe she doesn’t even know what letter you’re talking about?”

James froze, his fork hovering mid-air.

“Just talk to her, mate,” Sirius said, giving James a nudge. “Or don’t. But if you keep this up, you’re only making it worse—for both of you.”

James huffed, slumping back in his seat. The truth was, he didn’t know if he had it in him to face you just yet.

From across the hall, you caught the way James’s shoulders sagged, and for a brief moment, you considered walking over. But pride held you in place. If James wanted to act like this, fine. Two could play that game.

You and James hadn’t spoken in what felt like weeks. The once effortless connection you shared had been replaced with an awkward silence that weighed heavily on you. It wasn’t just James—it felt like the whole group of Marauders had grown distant, their usual antics and inside jokes missing their spark when you were around.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d done something to upset him. But what? You racked your brain for answers, replaying every interaction from the past few months. James had always been one of your closest friends—why was he acting so strange?

Charms class was the hardest part of it all. You always sat beside James, sharing notes, exchanging whispers, and stifling laughs when Professor Flitwick wasn’t looking. Now, you sat in the same spot, the chair next to you glaringly empty.

You tried to focus on the professor’s instructions, but your thoughts were louder than his voice. Scribbling aimlessly in your notebook, you hardly noticed when someone approached your desk.

“Are you alright?”

Startled, you looked up to see a boy with a blue-and-bronze tie standing beside you. His face was vaguely familiar—you’d seen him around in class but had never spoken to him.

“Yeah—yes, I’m fine,” you stammered, blinking in confusion. Why was he talking to you?

He gave a polite, slightly amused smile. “Well, can you move your stuff? I’m sitting here now. We’re partners for the project.”

“Oh!” Heat rose to your cheeks as you hurriedly shoved your books to one side. “Sorry about that. I didn’t realize.”

“No worries,” he said, settling into the chair beside you. “I figured you weren’t paying attention—no offense. But I was, so I’ll explain what Professor Flitwick said.”

You managed a small smile, relieved by his casual tone. “Thanks. That’s… helpful.”

While he began outlining the project details, your focus wavered, glancing at James out of the corner of your eye. He was across the room, seated next to a loud and enthusiastic partner who seemed to be trying desperately to get his attention. But James wasn’t listening.

His gaze was fixed on you.

There was a flicker of something in his expression—jealousy, maybe? Regret? Whatever it was, it made your stomach twist.

You quickly turned your attention back to your new partner, nodding along to his explanation, even if you weren’t entirely listening. You felt James’s eyes on you the entire time, but you refused to look back.

Across the room, James’s jaw clenched. His partner waved a hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his trance.

“Oi, Potter! Are you even listening?”

“Huh? Yeah, sure,” James muttered, though his eyes drifted back to you moments later.

He hated this—seeing someone else sitting beside you, making you smile when that used to be his seat, his job. But he didn’t know how to fix it. The letter. The silence. The way he’d avoided you. It all felt too big now, too messy to undo.

Still, James couldn’t stop watching you, his heart sinking further with every laugh you shared with your new partner.

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[thesongoficeandfir3]

Mine to take care of

Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem!Wife!reader

Warnings: brief talk of gore, talks of menstrual cycle, slight description of menstrual blood, smut alluded

Genre: Fluff

Prompt: Jace taking care of his wife who’s on her moon blood

A/n: You’re next Cregan Stark

You changed your position on the four-poster bed for what felt like the hundredth time as your mind bops in between sleep and wakefulness. You had a long and irritable day just wanting to sleep but your body had other ideas as it writhed in some unknown pain that worsened throughout the night.  Finally accepting the fact you weren’t getting any sleep you allow your body to fully wake up and once your mind comes back to the waking world, your eyes burst open when you realized what was keeping you from sleep. 

You jolted to a sitting position ripping the furs from your body. Your eyes snapping down and a string of curses leaving your lips and you leap out of bed. The room was  somewhat dark, all the once tall and bright  candlesticks now mere stubs hardly sputtering flames and the fireplace reduced to embers. Yet you could still make out the dark bloodstain, a stark contrast to the white sheets. You are pulled from your panic when you hear soft mumbling and Jace shifting awake. You move quickly and hide the stain covering it with the furs.

“What is it?” He mummers out still half asleep and his voice raspy with sleep.

“It is nothing my love,” you stutter out, failing horribly to conceal the distraught in your tone. “Please just go back to bed.” Though you had succeeded in covering the truth on the bedsheets with the furs, you failed to remember it also seeped through your rather thin and white nightgown.

“If it were nothing then why does your voice-” he pauses mid sentence once his eyes land on you, his mind still not quite in the waking world “what is that on your-”  his eyes then widen in realization and you prayed to all the gods above to end you right there.

Despite being betrothed for two years, it was not until a fortnight ago that you two were married and started to share a marriage bed. Thus there were still a few more intimate and more private things yet to be revealed in your relationship, your moon blood being one of them. While from the very first day you had met Jacaerys he had been nothing but kind and gentle with you, at this moment your insecurities got the better of you making you feel ashamed and embarrassed about your own moon blood. 

Jacaerys was not as savage nor dumb like many of the other men of Westeros when it comes to a woman’s anatomy (something you found out rather quickly on your wedding night). Due to reading and having female family members he was more than aware of what a moon blood was. This however was not enough to prepare him for how it truly looked and he can not help be slightly taken aback. He had been to war, he has  seen men’s heads crushed, animal’s stomachs ripped open, people skins bubble and burn from dragon fire, but seven hells was that a lot of blood for a person who was not injured or cut.

“Oh is that your… you know” He desperately tries to act casual.

His words go through one ear and out the next, not only was the lower part of your nightgown stained with blood but as you sleeped with nothing more than a nightgown the blood also dripped and stained down your legs.

Mayhaps it was the lack of sleep or the raging and unpredictable emotions that always came with your moon blood but your eyes immediately became watery with tears. 

 “Sorry” your voice breaks and you prepare for him to make any signs of disgust or try to pretend he doesn't see anything and go back to bed as you told him early. 

This is more than enough to snap him out of his surprised state, he mentally slaps himself for his initial dumbfounded reaction. He quickly shifts right back to the loving and caring man you know so well and needed more than ever at this moment.

“Hush now my love, there is nothing to apologize for,” he is at your side in an instant “this is a natural part of a woman’s body and you should never apologize for it.” His voice is soft and gentle. Despite his encouraging words he can still see your heart aching and it doesn't help when your arm quickly wraps around your abdomen when a painful cramp surges through. “Come now, let's get you out of that and cleaned up” he says as he reaches for the laces of your nightgown.

You recoil, not because of him but because of yourself. “I am repulsive, I should do it myself”

His face twists in disappointment, his disappointment pointed toward your words not at you. His hands grab your biceps slightly squeezing them in an attempt to stop you from walking away from him and for you to listen to what he had to say.

“Stop that you are anything but, what you are is my queen, my woman and you are mine and i intend to take care of what belongs to me” he ends the sentence with a soft kiss on the forehead before undoing the laces. Once undone he slips it over your head leaving you completely bare, you both instantly noticing how even bloodier in between your thighs were.

“This is a womanly thing, many men would be off-put by this so I will not shame you if you are.” you know he said just a few moments ago it was fine, but seeing blood stains was one thing and seeing its source was a whole other.

“Don’t you dare compare me to those dimwitted fools,” he takes your hand and leads you to the wash basin “a real man will not be fazed by his wife's body functioning  the way it's supposed to.”

Once at the wash basin, he picks up a clean cloth and soap. He kneels in front of you getting to work at cleaning off all the blood, you can feel the tender love and care through his touch. It was quiet the entire time he washed you, but a it was a comfortable silence as you two reached a new level of intimacy.

Jace felt honored that you allowed him to see this side of you. So raw and vulnerable yet you still trusted him and for that , he did not think it was possible, but he fell in love with you more. After the cleaning is done he leans forward pressing a long and gentle kiss where your womb would be.

“Guess what,” he murmurs, his breath felt warm against your skin “Your womb has not been seeded yet.” he stands once more “so that means I can try again and again until my seed starts to bloom in your beautiful garden.” 

He pulls you flush against him and you laugh at his words, his heart swells being able to hear the sound again.

“And once you give birth to our beautiful king or queen  I will plant hundreds more.

You bite on your bottom lip, the insecurity from earlier passing and you feel more bold now.

“Well then what is stopping you from starting now?”

“Nothing my heart” his eyes darkened with love and desire, he lifts you up taking you two to the bed.

[green-butterfly-writes]

Little Thief (Part 3)

Part 1, Part 2

Summary: Batman is confused. Elsewhere, a fox has dinner with a social worker.

Trigger Warning for starvation and animal/child abuse. Read at your own risk.

I'm Dyslexic, and don't have a beta, so spelling mistakes are likely to happen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I have a question about the report you submitted last Tuesday.”

“What is it, father?” Damian stopped sharpening his blade and looked up at Bruce, still in his cowl from patrol.

“Could you please explain this… Fox… you wrote about?” He asked, carefully picking his words.

“What about it?”

The cave was filled with silence as they stared each other down. Bruce contemplated how to proceed. 

“Damian, foxes can’t do these things. They can’t understand human speech to the degree you described, they don’t exchange food for services, they can’t point you to the joker.”

“Are you calling me a liar father?” Damian snipped back.

Bruce didn’t answer.

“I didn’t lie,” Damian seethed through clenched teeth, “You can ask Grayson if you don’t believe me. But I did not lie.”

Bruce contemplated that reaction. Perhaps it wasn’t just a ploy to get a new pet. “Foxes can’t do those things,” he repeated, a silent question hanging in the air.

“I know.”

~~~~

Jason did not yelp. He did not jump and definitely did not scream like a 5 year old watching a horror movie. In fact he did not react at all when he walked into his safe house, turned on the light, and heard the gravelly voice of the 6 foot tall hell beast behind him calling his name. Nope. Not a single reaction. Not even a flinch. Totally. Definitely. 

Which is why Bruce’s current expression is completely unwarranted. It was the expression he made when Jason ate 5 plates of pancakes in one sitting two months into living with him. It was the expression he made when Jason lost his tooth naturally for the first time — rather than in a fight. It was the expression he made when Jason cried over a bruised knee when learning how to ride a bike. It was the expression he made when Cass fell asleep against him during a movie, close and comfortable. It was the expression he made when Stephanie would show off a new skill she learned or hobby she picked up. It was the expression he made when Tim would show off his photos, or when Babs would take a break to read a new book. It was the expression he made when Damian would ask for a play date, or Dick would show off new clothes. It was the expression he made when his kids, his family, acted like normal people, and not vigilantes burdened with a fight they could never win. And there was no reason for him to make that awful, soft, sappy, expression now because Jason did not scream.

“The fuck you want?” Jason snapped (because he was upset about being intruded upon, and definitely, totally not because he was embarrassed about squealing like a little girl. Which is something he did not do, by the way.)

“I wanted to ask you about something,” his voice was clear and stern, but still held concern and care.

Jason tilted his head toward Bruce, urging him to continue. “Damian wrote a report I found… odd. It was about your informant,” That idiotic fool “I was hoping you could clarify something.” 

Jason signed, he’d reem the little twerp later, and plopped himself down on the ratty once-beige couch. “Alright. Shoot.”

~~~~

The clothes were itchy. Unbelievably so. They were baggy, but the intentional kind. The kind that hid how malnourished you were, rather than highlighting it. They were new, unwashed, ugly, and would likely be returned the next day, if the tag digging into your back was any indication.

“How are things going dear?” Asked Ms.Kelsey, a naive younger woman with a brown bun and thin purple glasses, “are you liking your stay with Neels?”

“It’s not the worst home I’ve been in,” you answered smoothly. That wasn’t a lie. Despite the fact you could only shower on Wednesday mornings, they confiscated your phone two days in, and they seemingly despised the idea they had to feed you, it still wasn’t the worst home you’d been in. Not even top five. 

“That’s good to hear!” Ms.Kelsey, your current social worker, celebrated. She was new to the job, only a year in, and annoyingly cheerful, but she was visibly trying her best. You appreciated that. “How’s school been going?”

“We’re reading Shakespeare in my English class,” you offered.

“Oh! And how are you liking it?”

“It’s alright, but I really like my English teacher, he makes it fun.”

“That’s wonderful sweetie,” Ms.Kelsey grinned, “Let’s go join the family for dinner,” she directed, standing from the worn brown armchair in the living room and heading towards the dining room where the Mr. and Mrs. Neel were seated beside their son, George.

You took your seat at the stubby table, across from George. The table was dressed with a tacky floral tablecloth, and covered with various mismatched bowls of sides surrounding a rather large chicken. The food was, as typical for Mrs. Neel, simultaneously overcooked and raw. You plopped a spoonful of soggy broccoli on your plate, followed by a serving of (unintentionally chunky) mashed potatoes. No chicken, you weren’t willing to risk salmonella or the screaming fit that would follow. Only simple sides that they have plenty of, so they wouldn’t get mad at you. 

The mashed potatoes crunched when you took a bite, and you tried your best to ignore it. They tasted wet and sad, and far too salty. Chewing was both difficult and necessary as parts of the food slashed down your throat with little resistance, and others put up a fight when you tried to chew them. But this wasn’t the worst home you’ve been in. Far from it in fact. At least the food isn’t moldy! And there’s no— no, wait, yup that’s hair. You decided to risk the chunky potatoes swallowed down your mouthful with a glass of water.

Ms.Kelsey and the Neels exchanged pleasant conversation, while you picked at your food, taking small mouthfuls fast enough they wouldn’t ask questions, and slow enough you could carefully examine all the food. The evening passed in a swift haze, with no mistakes on your end. After Miss Kelsey left, you helped clear the table, pack the food away, and retreated to your rarely used bedroom.

The bedroom had bare white walls, an uncomfortable bed, and a small dresser you kept your clothes in. It was fine. Everything was fine, you kept repeating to yourself. It could be much, much worse. It has been much, much worse. Be thankful for what you have. At least tomorrow you’ll see your friends again! That’s gotta count for something, right?

~~~~

“They… didn’t come today…” Damian rarely allowed his emotions to breathe freely, so seeing him look so defeated was odd.

“It happens from time to time. ‘Bout once a month,” Jason clumsily tried to comfort, “they’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Do you think they’re ok?” Damian asked, almost pleading, and looked up at Jason.

“I— ummm — ya,” he awkwardly placed a hand on Damian’s shoulder, “I’m sure they’re fine.” He was not sure, actually, but he hoped it was true. “Let’s leave the food here, so they’ll have something if they drop by later.” 

Damien seemed pleased by the idea. 

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Thank you all so much for reading! Let me know what you think 💚

Notes:

I put this elsewhere, but in case you haven't seen it: I'm having some technical difficulties with responding to comments, but I see them, and I appreciate them <3

[christinaseas]

I've been getting into backyard birding this past year, so learning a lot as I got as far as the birds that show up around my house. First time a Flicker showed up I was so surprised by the flash of yellow! I guess I just really felt this urge to capture it.

This isn't the only bird in my yard I've felt this way about, this this is the only one that took this long. I've taken some really lousy ones in that time, some of which I probably posted on tumblr, but here are two I found quickly:

So in some ways it wasn't just a this bird in particular, but this was definitely the longest wait and the biggest payoff.

Also sorry to get a little sappy on your reblog, but I'd been hoping for something that was just a small-to-medium step up from the ones I just posted, but this felt like such a big one. Northern Flickers show up a lot, but the combination of one being on the rooftop while my camera is out and ready and then flying in my direction with my reaction being quick enough...idk feel like I got really lucky and I feel grateful for it and I've been getting kind of emotional.

ANYWAY I FINALLY GOT A GOOD PICTURE OF A NORTHERN FLICKER TAKING OFF IN FLIGHT

I've been trying to since around late February or early March of last year, so almost as long as I've been doing this. I'm really fucking stoked about it.

[revelboo]

I’m really want Waspinator smut, I’m waiting for it

I doubt reader is, though 😂 Or for his really confused attempts to court, because he’s in love. Reader… still thinks of him as their dumb, ugly puppy, but they’ll figure it out pretty soon

Worker Bee Pt 15

Waspinator x Reader

• Unfortunately, he’s healed enough to go back to being aggressively clingy. As soon as you’d tried to squirm out from between him and the back of the couch, he’d just wrapped his arms around you and pressed his face against your chest. And whined. Making you feel guilty about carefully pushing his head away to get free, because you can’t just sleep on the couch all day. You have work to do and you’re not looking forward to that at all. Normally working from home is a good thing, but the idea of trying to do Zoom calls with him around? That’s just terrifying.

• Venting as he loses the warmth of you, he follows along behind you waiting on you to stop so he can snare you again. Little touches teasing him like when you’d brushed his antenna with your soft fingers to nudge his head away. Reaching up to run his servos over one, he watches you grab a bag and carry it back to the couch before pointing at him. “Don’t touch,” you say and his wings flick at your strict tone.

• Eyeing him as he keeps running his servos over an antenna, you sigh and head into the kitchen for some cereal. It’s hard to tell if he’s listening, let alone understanding you when he just stares at you like that. Fixing a bowl, you turn and almost run into him, frowning up at him in exasperation and going around him to sit at the table. “Not touching bag,” he says, dragging your chair out to insinuate himself between your thighs. Again. He’s touching everything else, though as he lays his head in your lap and just stares up at you. There’s no brain cells in that ugly bug head. You know there aren’t. He doesn’t know he’s doing anything wrong and he’s just going to aggressively follow you if you move. You’ve already fought this war with him and lost before. So you try to ignore him and eat your cereal.

• Wrapping his arms around you and the chair, he watches you eat. Not rebuking him this time and he buzzes softly at you, mandibles snagging your covering. “Are you eating my shirt?” You ask, looking down at him. Feels you slowly inhale and then you lay a soft hand on his head, fingers brushing his antenna to make him freeze. Not pushing him away. Touching him gently. No one has ever touched him with such kind hands before except you. Never belonged anywhere but here with you. “Why are you whining now? Cause I don’t want you eating my shirt?”

• Exasperated as he just keeps whining, still chewing the bottom hem of your shirt, you give up on trying to figure out what’s going on in his head. He’s obnoxious, but you don’t think he means to be. And no matter how annoying he is, you had been worried when you’d found him out there in the snow unmoving. Because he’s yours. Your problem. “Waspinator’s little friend,” he whines, the words more buzz than intelligible and you hear something in your chair crack under his clawed servos. And you nearly fall backwards when the back of the chair just comes loose, broken. Optics wide, his immediate reaction is to hide and cringe down. With nowhere else to go, he shoves his face between your thighs, antennae flattening against his head as you yelp and both of your hands land on his head.

Previous

[sayangrafayel]

Friend I am in need and am going to make a request. I need to get a cavity filled tomorrow so if you ever have time could you write the LaDS men reaction to a reader with needle/dental phobia (mostly needle I guess). Anything like which of them would hold your hand through it and which ones would make fun (if any cause i can'timagine they would which is why i could use the support haha). Currently freaking the fuck out 🙃

Sorry if you're not taking asks rn! And no worries if you don't want to do it 💙

Ask and you shall receive! Reader is afraid of needles (and you can see it as a dental work too even though I use arm)!

How would they react if you have a needle phobia?

Who's gonna hold your hand or maybe try to distract you? Or maybe joke around with you just so you wouldn't think about the process?

Sylus, Xavier, Rafayel, Zayne, Caleb.

Sylus

This man hates seeing you in any kind of pain.

Oh you think he would distract you alone? Wrong. He's bringing in your twins and Mephie to help him. He knows how much you love them.

This scene from Brooklyn 99 where Captain Holt and Terry dance to distract Amy? That's them. He would personally sing the song too. You'd be so confused seeing him like that, you wouldn't even notice the needle.

Xavier

He will hold your hand without any questions.

He wonders though, you are such a badass hunter but why is it you're afraid of needles.. but he understands how phobia works, so he doesn't mind at all.

Distracts you by putting on a little light show for you, making you your favorite kind of animal with his evol and makes it jump around his head and your other arm so you'd focus on that.

Rafayel

At first, he thought you were joking when you told him you're scared of the doctor appointment because of needles.

He'll realize you were in fact not joking when you were holding his hand so tightly his fingers felt numb. "Ouchie! My hand! Okay oka-"

He'd bring one of your favorite plushies that you caught together. To distract you, he'd say "Hey, remember how hard it was for us to get this little guy? We should go again after this, the other version of this plush is out today!"

Zayne

As a doctor, he knows how serious it is for you. No matter how many times you went through this process, he will always take your phobia seriously.

"Let me do it, Nurse." and then you'd ease up because he'd done it many times without barely any pain. You trust him so much, you just stare at his features and adore how seriously he's taking this.

If he can't do it himself, he'll distract you by making little snowballs seals with his evol. Or making the flower you love, again, with his evol. The coldness of his evol would distract you from the pain in your other arm.

Caleb

This big puppy. You'd think HE'S the one with a needle phobia.

He wished he could take your place instead because he'd love to take any kind of pain if it means you don't have to feel any.

"You can do this, love!" Of course he would hold your hand close to his face and stare at you with his puppy eyes. "After this, I'll cook one of your favorites! Or we can go out and get ice cream, yeah? It will be over soon, I promise." And what else can you do other than trusting your beloved?

[14dayswithyou]

Ren owes me 22 dollars.... I think I remember you saying before that if Ren and Angel had kids Ren would still prioritise Angel over them so it has given me a couple of questions?

1. If Angel passed away what kind of father would Ren be? If it was because of childbirth would Ren 'blame' his child?

2. If Ren discovered one of his children was a yandere like him what would his reaction be?

Thank you for always engaging with this community I really enjoy the story and your characters, looking forward to what comes next! :D

⌞♥⌝ Thank you for da kind words!!

I don't really enjoy talking about how Ren would react to Angel dying (nor can I see him moving on after they've died), and I don't feel comfortable talking about maternal death either, sorry. All I'll say is that Ren would never blame his own child for something like that.

If Ren found out his child was also a yandere like him, he honestly would not care in the slightest T_T His main priority will always be Angel, and what his child gets up to whenever he's not around isn't... really his concern. He'd still care for his child's wellbeing (obviously), but if they want to go around stalking and murdering people for the one they love, Ren won't snitch — nor would he try to help them, either. All he cares about is Angel, and if they're safe and happy, he will be too.

[ffcrazy15]

Heyo @glowsticks-and-jesus @under-clouds-and-stars, so! Thought I'd weigh in here; I can't prove 100% beyond a shadow of a doubt that this was a Nazi salute because, well, we can never really know what's going on in someone's head.

However, I think we can be 99% certain that it was either a Nazi salute, or that he was okay with Nazis interpreting it as a salute after the fact even if he was just being an awkward weirdo in the moment.

I asked my husband, who has a personal grudge against Musk and so knows more about his doings than I do, and he said he's pretty sure it was a Nazi salute for the following reasons:

Elon has been hanging out a lot on Pol, which is 4chan's containment board for general fascists, explicitly Nazis and alt-right weirdos of all stripes. Basically the guy spends a loooot of time trying to befriend online Nazis.

He's been trying really hard to earn their approval by doing things like using their internal dogwhistels, such as posting a Pepe le Pew frog in Roman armor.

So far, they haven't been impressed with him, especially after the whole H1B visa debate, because Nazis tend not to like immigration of any kind.

This all gives him a pretty strong motive to win their approval by either doing the salute and pretending he didn't, or doing something that wasn't the salute by accident and then winking at the Nazis when they assumed it was a salute.

I will also give one other reason I'm pretty sure this was a Nazi salute: his reaction to the accusation. Look, anyone can do something by accident that might get misinterpreted as something racist. But how would any of us normal, non-Nazi people react if we did something that got misinterpeted as a Nazi salute?

We'd trip over ourselves apologizing with embarrassment and go out of our way to show every single piece of evidence we have that we're not Nazis. Normal people react with embarrassment and horror when they accidentally do something that makes them look like a Nazi. Not Elon Musk, though. He blamed the viewers for seeing something that does look very much like a Nazi salute and interpreting it as such.

Either way, whether this was explicitly a Nazi salute or not (and I think the evidence weighs towards it being so), we know for a fact that he likes online Nazis and wants their approval. He's a Nazi-wannabe whether he did the salute or not.

USA... Elon Musk just did the sieg heil (nazi salut to Hitler)

[fairestwriting]

Octatrio! With a shorter crush that can pick them up easily and does so in a bout of excitement, princess style!

Azul Ashengrotto

He wants you to think highly of him. Like, really wants to. A lot of the time, when you two are talking, that’s what’s in his mind. But much to his dismay — and no matter how clear you make that you find it endearing — he actually gets flustered very easily. He’ll try everything in his power to play it cool, but there’s only so much one can do to try to hide a blushing face.

And he thinks about you a lot, much more than he wants to let on. This includes coming up with ideas of how to bring out that enthusiastic side you have that he likes so much. Azul will remember each and every interest of yours that you mention, then plan out a way to casually bring it up some other time, maybe even get you a gift that’s related to it. There’s always a tailored justification on why you don’t need to pay him back for it too, “kind” enough for you to feel special, but not so much that it feels unbelievable.

The princess carry is a popular trope, and you’re small enough the thought has crossed his mind. Azul might not be the strongest guy around, but he’s definitely not weak, though he’s not really confident enough in his skills to really try, and there’s also things like timing to keep in mind, what even would be the right moment to do something like that— There’s a non zero chance that very thought would be on his mind right when you lift him up, even.

Actually yelps when you do it, drops whatever he’s holding, it’s a whole situation. He doesn’t know how to respond, both because he didn’t expect you to be strong and because you’re carrying him, he won’t even register whatever words you say. Floyd cheers you on if he’s nearby. When you put him down, Azul apologizes for his "unflattering" reaction in a voice that sounds like he’s trying really hard not to faint.

Jade Leech

He did have a feeling you were stronger than you looked, pretty much since you two met. It wasn’t something he guessed right off the bat, and he even doubted it a little bit sometimes, but he watched you close enough to be able to tell. It’s not that hard to notice, if you just look at the way you handle heavier objects and such… or at least that’s what he would tell you.

But of course, thinking you’d be able to lift him was far from what he had guessed. He’s very tall, clearly taller than you, and even though Floyd exercises more, Jade does still have a pretty decent amount of muscle. He’s not light at all! Even a lot of people around his height would have trouble lifting him up, and you just did it like that? So effortlessly? Definitely a way to get a very rare, very wide eyed look from him, that maybe no one has even seen in years.

“Oya, since when are you this strong?” He asks with a chuckle. He’s pretty good at getting it together and putting on a composed look, even when you’re carrying him around in your arms like that, but you’d have to be really oblivious to not notice the underlying shock. Jade will laugh along with you about whatever had you so excited in the first place, but the main thing that’s really in his mind is a reminder to watch you even more closely now. Where does that strength come from, after all? You’re really full of surprises, aren’t you…

Sort of wants you to do it again, but mostly starts to want to be the one to do it to you instead. Maybe it's something like payback. He has good self restraint, he’s not just going to scoop you up into his arms unprompted and carry you off wherever… But if the opportunity comes up, like if he takes you hiking and you comment about your legs being tired, he’s not ignoring it. Smiles slyly at you in a way that makes you wonder if that’s the reason he invited you in the first place.

Floyd Leech

Like Jade, he can tell you’re not weak, but it works completely different with him. He’s not really watching you per se and it’s much more of an instinctive feel. And on top of everything, you’re just so cute and tiny? He didn’t have to think to pick your nickname at all, you couldn’t be anything other than Shrimpy. He would’ve given it to you even if it meant taking it from someone else.

Floyd himself will pick you up a lot when he gets excited, laughing and twirling you around. It doesn’t actually matter how heavy you are, you’re light as a feather to him, his cute little Shrimpy that he could toss around if he wanted— He says that to you, straight up, with a huge cheerful smile on his face. He’ll never be quiet about how cute he thinks you are, doesn’t matter if you only met a few days ago.

If you’re excited about something while talking to him, chances are that he is too. You’ll be happily talking back and forth, sharing whatever comments first come to mind, and it was really just a coincidence you happened to get the urge to pick him up first this time. If you had been even just one second late, he would already have you lifted off the ground.

He’s surprised when it happens, obviously, but honestly a lot less shocked than most people would be? Maybe he just had a feeling all along, Floyd is just like that sometimes. He’s still laughing and joking with you about whatever the topic was before, with a side of "Woah, Shrimpy is so strong!", he doesn’t care how many things he ends up knocking over from getting twirled around by you. Will return the gesture when you put him down, lifting you higher than he ever had before. It genuinely makes him happy that you can do the same. Doesn’t mean he’s ever going to stop fawning over you being smaller than him though, you’re his little Shrimpy no matter what— Maybe even more than before now.

if you wanna support my work, you can buy me a ko-fi or commission me!

[the-witty-pen-name]

When he realizes he's in love with you...

(Stranger Things Edition)

A/N: thank you @punkrockmlchael for bouncing ideas back and forth with me for this one! you are the best <3 please follow roz if you don't already she's the best

Warnings: substance use (smoking weed); fluff

Characters: Steve, Eddie, Gareth, Jonathan, Argyle & Billy

Steve: It's a really simple moment. You're with everyone just gathered at Steve's house for a movie night. Steve is sharing the couch with you, and he'd been doing a good job of ignoring that fact until your head rests on his shoulder with a gentle thud. You fell asleep and you curl up by his side. He's terrified to move, not wanting to disturb and risk ending this moment. He tries to remain completely still, except when he lifts his arm to wrap around your shoulder- of course you sleep through it. Having you so close to him, knowing you feel safe and comfortable enough around him to fall asleep- he's a goner.

Eddie: You match his energy, and you aren't afraid to argue with him. Heated debates about literally anything- usually something pointless. You don't stand down either, no matter how ridiculous it gets. He even just likes to get you riled up so he can get a reaction out of you- he loved seeing you so fired up. One night, the movie you both watching is paused because Eddie made a bogus claim the actor was in another movie- he wasn't. You're arguing, talking with your hands frantically to prove your point and you don't even catch on that he's stopped caring and he's just watching you with a smirk on his lips. He just loved you so much.

Gareth: You'd been dating for a couple of months. After dinner together, you end up walking into the record store. You're in the next row across from him- just mindlessly looking through the selection. He watches your eyes light up when you find a record you already own, but love- just happy to stumble across it out and about. It makes his heart skip, and he realizes that he wants you to share things you love with him all the time- for the rest of his life.

Jonathan: When you aren't paying attention, Jonathan loves to take candid photos of you. There's a time you're both at Lover's Lake and you're skipping rocks. Looking at you through his camera, it kind of just hits him all at once. You look over and smile for the photo and it's his favorite photo he's ever taken. After that, you can tell something changed between the two of you. He finally confesses his feelings after months of pining and you start dating immediately afterwards.

Argyle: You're sitting with him in the back of the delivery van after your shift. There's already a large cloud of smoke that has engulfed the two of you. Through the haze that has pleasantly taken over his brain, he watches you- your skillful hands rolling another joint for the two of you to share. His mouth hangs open slightly watching as you bring it to your lips, your mouth opening just enough to poke your tongue out so you can seal it. It's probably the hottest thing he's ever seen and he immediately just falls for you in that moment.

Billy: You're laying on your stomach on his unmade bed. You're flipping through one of your notebooks, trying to study. He's laying on his side, kissing your shoulder and rubbing your back- wanting your attention and pouting he needs to compete with your homework. He observes you read behind those beautiful lashes of his, and he loves the way you face looks when you're concentrating and focused. Despite that, he still wants to toss the book on the floor and kiss you stupid, but he'll wait because he knows it's important to you to do well on this test. His resolve doesn't last long, but he does try to be good- because he loves you.

TAGLIST: @sunshinepeachx @downbear @fanlifeaamt @exploding-bonbon @losingmygrasponreality @skiddypiddy @andvys @djodirt @moonlightsolo @kyga01 @sheisjoeschateau @melaninjhs @v3lv3tf0x @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @sunshine-mrk @danymunsonharrington @mrsjellymunson @fanficfantik @the-unforgivenn @punkrockmlchael @supersecretsamm

[bitchface24-7]

Okay, I NEED a part two of Succubus!! I’m not joking when I say I have a black widow on my lower abdomen bellow my belly button hanging from a web thats under my boobs and torso. I CANNOT explain how much I loved reading that Viktor fic!! Would love to read about his reaction to some more of readers tattoos!

If you need tattoo inspiration I got some good ones!!! 😘🤭

SUCCUBUS PT2 - VIKTOR X READER

synopsis: Viktor took you up on seeing your other tattoos. He didn't want to assume anything would happen, but as more and more of your clothes were stripped; Viktor knew his assumptions were right.

warnings: more tattoos!! piercings as well (ears and nipples (like me!) ), flirting, teasing, dirty talk, thigh grinding, overstimulation, marking, Grammarly as my beta.

genre: m/f or m/m

p.s. My man deserves to have his world rocked by an undeniable baddie (i.e. You) hope Viktor survives this LMAO

Viktor honestly isn't sure how his day completely derailed itself. He just needed help soldering some wires on his prototype. Then you casually walk in in your casual outfit and a sider tattoo on display. right on your lower abdomen.

He was distracted the whole time and you took advantage of it. He can completely understand where you got your nickname from. You truly are a black widow.

He's dumbfounded as you usher him into your apartment. He glances around and lightly smiles, it's so you. The furniture, the decorations, the aesthetic. It screams you, and Viktor adores it.

"Take a seat on the couch. Do you want a drink at all? Water? Juice? Anything?" You casually state as you lock the apartment door, taking your shoes off. Viktor plops a seat, putting his cane off to the side. He gets comfortable, "No, I'm okay. Thank you. I'm more interested in your other tattoos."

You smirk at the man, "You only want a free strip show, huh?"

"Well, you did offer it."

A chuckle escapes your soft lips at that, "You're not wrong." With that, you roll your sleeves up, showing off the tattoo on your shoulder, it just casually says 'Made in Hell.' Viktor quirks an eyebrow and you giggle, "I was young, shut up."

Then your shirt goes, and Viktor's eyes wonder your torso. There's a snake coiling around your collar bone on each side, there's a gun, more snakes, a whole bouquet of flowers on your ribs, the dreaded spider tattoo, and--

"Your nipples are pierced." Viktor states, stunned. You, his kind-spirited, happy-go-lucky, genius friend... have your nipples pierced.

"Yup."

"...Why?"

You shrug casually, "I have eight piercing in total on my ears, four on each side, I love piercings. My nipples... I got done since I was a bit insecure how my chest looks. The piercings gave me a massive boost of confidence, even if nobody sees them."

Viktor is incredulous, "Nobodies ever seen them?"

"Well... my friends that came with me to get our piercings done saw them, and a few other friends; they were all women. You're the first man."

A sharp inhale is heard throughout the apartment. He's the first man. The first.

No one can ever take that from him.

You turn around and Viktor sees the phases of the moon trailing down your back, "That one I understand. You've always loved the moon, but why your back? You'll never get to see it?"

A smirk is all the pretty man gets, "So when I'm on my hands and knees the person behind me has a pretty view." Viktor almost chokes at your tease. He knows just what to say to get you back, "You are already a pretty view. No matter the position."

You feel your face heat up as you shimmy out of your pants, Viktor withholds a groan as you bend over and your ass is pushed out. You kick your pants to the side and all that's keeping you somewhat modest is your underwear. Viktor sees you have tattoos on your legs but he can barely focus on them, the tramp stamp with "Est. XXXX" with your birth year makes Viktor want to wheeze.

Your hands raise from your sides before plopping back down to hit your thighs, "That's all of them."

“Can I get a closer look?”

A light exhale of breath and a nod is all the man gets. He ushers you to come closer with a small twitch of a finger. You follow his direction without hesitation.

You sit on his lap and he hums in appreciation. His golden eyes and massive pupils wonder around your body. His hands join the appreciation. His hands harshly grip your hips and you moan out in pain and pleasure. A hand whips up to cover your mouth and Viktor’s tisk’s at you.

“No no. That won’t do. Let me hear you.”

You whine at his tone, and slowly lower your hand. Viktor repositions you so that you’re straddling his strong leg. His hands remain on your hips.

He jolts his leg up and you gasp in shock. His nicely shaped thigh grazing your sex wonderfully. A zing of pleasure shoots down your back and into your crotch.

Fuck.

“Is this okay?” Viktor asks, a whiny yes is your reply. Viktor’s eyes darken and he kisses you, before dragging his lips down to your throat and sucking a hickey necklace there.

His hands force your hips to move, so you grind against his thigh. You can’t help but moan at the pleasure you’re feeling, it’s especially amplified as Viktor sucks on one of your pierced nipples; the piercing amplifying your sensitivity.

“You’re so sensitive. So needy. Are you always this needy or is it just with me?”

“You! Just you. Viktor please…”

“Please what? Please suck my nipples more? Please rub my crotch more? Please make me cum? Please fuck me? What do you want, you need to tell me more than just please.”

A loud whine escapes you as you rut your hips harder against the long leg beneath you. Your knee nudging against his hard cock.

“Please make me cum! Please mark me up some more, my chest, my nipples. Please bruise my hips with your hands. Please make me yours.”

Viktor growls and does what you’ve begged. Your hips quickly grinding against his thigh, your knee effectively rubbing against his cock. He puts more and more hickeys on you, your hips becoming more bruised with his unrelenting force.

A loud whiny moan escapes you as you cum against his leg, the crotch of your underwear becoming soaked with your arousal.

Viktor doesn’t let you stop though. He makes sure your hips keep moving, not allowing you to calm down. The pleasure gains a bit of pain and you can’t help but cry out as he continues to suck away bruises onto you.

He groans as he cums in his pants, his face, his voice, his sounds. He’s so attractive you can’t help but cum again, it hurts but fuck it feels so good. You’re panting desperately as Viktor unlatched from your skin and hips, you lean your head into his shoulder as you essentially just lay on him.

He’s panting too. His face is flushed, his eyes are closed, and his head is leaned back. You sluggishly suck a dark hickey into the side of his neck, too high for his collar to cover.

He’s just as much yours as you’re his.

“I wasn’t expecting this.” Viktor states as he looks down at you, you smile lightly at him, “I was.”

“I know.”

“You’re not mad?”

Viktor chuckles, “How could I be mad about that? You want me, desire me, and you went out of your way to get it. I was too slow to make the first move.”

You raise from lying on Viktor and sit up, looking at him in shock, “First move?”

“I’m not blind, and I’m not stupid. Neither are you. I’ve wanted you for a while, I just didn’t know how to start.”

“We’ll… you’re welcome.”

“Yes, thank you darling.”

You look down and Viktor and softly kiss his lips before you gasp, “Oh my god, did you cum?”

He just chuckles at you, “Yes my dear. I did. It’s so cute you’re worried that I didn’t.”

“Well you made me cum twice. It wouldn’t have been fair if you didn’t even cum once.”

Viktor’s head falls back to the head of the couch and slaps your thigh, a small gasp is what he gets in return, “I’d like that drink now though.”

You jolt up off his lap, “What do you want?” Viktor’s eyes open lightly and glance and you, pierced and tattoo glory all for him to see, “Water for now would be nice.”

A smile is what he gets and you casually turn and walk to your kitchen, Viktor appreciates your walk, your ass, and the moon phase tattoo trailing down your spine.

Yeah… he wasn’t expecting this. But he’ll never complain on how he got here.

He’s a very lucky man indeed.

*debby ryan hair tuck* y’all fuck with this? As one user said, my libido completely revolves around this man (a call out I didn’t need but it’s true) EDIT: BRO IT WAS A CALL OUT *I* MADE IN ANOTHER FIC I COMPLETELY FORGOT ABOUT THAT 😭😭 I THOUGHT YALL CLOCKED ME NAH I CLOCKED US 😩💀

Tattoos I tried to describe LOL

[artigust]

Used to work for a company that did roofs, siding, and windows that hilariously was called MLM for the guys who started it (and it was also definitely an MLM) but one of the things they would stress as selling points were that newer windows or sidings are gonna "save you money in the long run" because how much they will improve your heating and cooling bills. Which like as a sales tactic is not the best because you'll see like maybe a 2% increase in the efficiency of your ac and the return on the investment is so fucking small.

The one thing they were kind of right about was that roofs should definitely get checked up on every once in awhile cause the last thing you want is your roof to cave in from and unchecked rot but it was still a scam all the same

That guys reaction is real as shit cause let me tell you after about seven our eight houses in the fucking sweltering ass summer heat you start to realize "Yeah this is all bullshit I can't believe I'm spending my day doing this"

sometimes I still think about the salesman who came by several years ago, selling window replacement services, and his main sales pitch was 'the windows on your house are sixty years old.' but then when I said that I hadn't noticed any issues and asked if there was some inherent problem with old windows, he just kinda went 'hm. yeah, guess not' and left

[dreamsteddie]

Other things that happen when Eddie takes Steve to be on the Price is Right

Steve does what he does at home which is yell at the TV very loudly. When they get home and watch their episode everyone can clearly hear him shouting out numbers and booing. It both frightened and turned Eddie on in the moment.

During one of the breaks, while Steve is in the contestant's row Bob asks Steve where he's from and he says Hawkins Indiana which garners quite a reaction from the audience because Hawkins was in the news so much for the government coverups, missing persons, mall fire, murders, and earthquakes. Steve regularly forgets that that's not just normal life for everyone and kind of just shrugs when people give him their condolences.

Before they play the Clock Game Bob asks if there's a lucky lady waiting for him at home to which Steve says 'yes' and Eddie blushes and hides behind his hair a little assuming Steve is talking about him. Steve was thinking about Robin.

Steve's guess for the showcase was only $250 away from the actual retail price and he won't let it go. When they change the margin to $250 instead of $100 to win both showcases in 98' Steve throws a massive fit.

One of the models flirts with Steve at the end of the show and Eddie is spitting and hissing at her in his head. He's still riding the high of Steve saying he's taken on national TV (again, he was talking about Robin but Eddie doesn't know that) and is feeling very possessive.

Wayne actually tears up a little when he sees his boys on his favorite show. He talks about it to his drinking buddies and work friends way too much. The recliner Steve won becomes his most prized possession.

Someone else got to play Plinko on Steve's episode and he's so mad about it because he swears there's a way to finesse it.

After the adoption dates of his kids, the day he got married to Eddie, and Robin's graduation ceremony from her PhD program, Steve rates that day as one of the best of his life.

On their way home and even after they get back Steve will not let it go that Eddie sprung this on him without letting him pick a better outfit. He bitches and moans about it so much that Eddie gets kind of irritated and asks "Ok, what would you have worn then?!" which is apparently exactly what Steve wanted as he immediately starts pulling stuff out of the closet and goes to change in the bathroom. It's almost exactly the same outfit he had on.

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for Cheshire behind the cut; “Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good!” (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Billy closes the cupboard and looks back into the living room. Lynn’s still watching the static intently, and Tawky’s still settled all neat and comfy in his lap, though Lynn’s eyes look a little–heavy, kinda? Like . . . maybe, anyway. 

Billy sneaks a peek at the clock and thinks–it is getting kinda late, probably. Like, not really for a teenager and not for him either, ‘cuz it’s not really safe to sleep on the street for too long–honestly it’s better to just take a couple naps during the day if he can, especially when the weather’s shitty–but definitely for a little kid who’s just gotten driven halfway across the Midwest to their brand-new foster home and met their new dad and uncle for the first time and also gotten their own room and been to a diner and a library and cooked dinner and all that stuff for the first time. 

Actually, yeah, probably that’d be a lot even for a teenager, Billy thinks. Not that he really knows, ‘cuz he doesn’t really know any teenagers all that well and hasn’t been one himself yet, but it seems like it would? 

He’d sleep for a week after all that if he could, he thinks. 

He definitely would. 

Billy doesn’t really know how to handle the idea of, um–bedtime, exactly? Like, with Lynn, he means. Billy has not actually had an actual “bedtime” since . . . uh . . . 

“Lights out” doesn’t really count, he can’t help feeling, so . . . yeah, it’s been . . . a while, definitely. 

. . . maybe he should’ve taken a minute to check those parenting books for bedtime tips earlier, he thinks. Like–newborn tips and teenager tips, and then just split the difference, maybe? 

That seems like it’d probably be a pain in the ass to figure out how to split, though. 

He guesses what he should do is just whatever works, which, like–yeah, obviously and all, but like . . . doing “whatever works” is kinda, like . . . well, kinda a trial and error thing? And Billy really doesn’t wanna accidentally wreck Lynn’s first night of sleep in the apartment, that just seems like a bad foot to start off on and all, but he doesn’t know if Lynn knows anything about how he sleeps yet–like, he’s four days old and Billy’s pretty sure the first night he was alive he just spent fighting his way out of Cadmus and everything, so how many times has he even slept at all yet? And did he even go to sleep on purpose anywhere or just, like, pass out ‘cuz he was exhausted? 

Billy probably should’ve asked Lynn about all that stuff before the other started getting sleepy. 

Shit. 

Lynn blinks a little heavier, his head nodding once. Stiffens his spine like a reflex, and then looks a little–confused, maybe, and blinks rapidly a couple of times. Tawky peers up at him in concern, then seems to realize it’s the sleepy thing and glances over to Billy, who isn’t sure what to do and bites his lip. Tawky tips his own head, and Billy thinks . . . well . . . okay, that’s probably a lot of questions for Lynn right now, when he’s already pretty sleepy, but– 

Lynn blinks again–twice–and then wobbles in his seat, kinda, and– 

A weird jolt of alarm and the speed of Mercury both happen at the exact same time, and half a second later Billy’s in the living room with Lynn all scooped up in his arms and Lynn’s breath hitching sharply, one of his arms pinning Tawky against his chest and the other pressed tight against Billy’s chest in, like–a really obvious startle reflex. 

. . . maybe that was a panic reaction, Billy thinks, wincing at himself. 

“Sorry,” he says, trying to repress a worse wince. “Um–reflex. Sorry.” 

“Uh,” Lynn says, his breath catching again and the hand he has against Billy’s chest tightening into a fist around the neckline of the nerdy try-hard button-down Mr. Rogers sweater the magic made for him. He’s staring kind of blankly at where his fist’s clutching the sweater. “. . . ‘reflex’?” 

“Oh,” Billy says, then reddens a little in embarrassment. Yeah. Definitely that was a panic reaction. “Um–you looked like you were gonna fall, maybe, so–um, I know you’re invulnerable so maybe that sounds dumb, just I thought, like–I didn’t want you to fall?” 

“. . . uh,” Lynn says, and blinks real slow again. 

“Sorry,” Billy apologizes, trying to figure out if it’s more awkward to keep holding Lynn or to put him down without making sure it was just that he was nodding off and not, like, anything actually serious or anything. He got punched a lot of times by a guy with berserker super-strength just a few days ago, and that’s probably long enough that Lynn’s fine, but also Lynn’s only been alive a few days, so maybe like–what if he’s not actually fine, or–“Um–were you falling asleep?” 

“. . . I don’t know,” Lynn says, still staring blankly at his fist, or maybe at Billy’s sweater, or . . . who knows, really. “I don’t know what it feels like.” 

“. . . have you slept yet?” Billy asks with a worried frown. 

“I slept for four months,” Lynn says stiffly. He doesn’t lift his head at all. . 

Billy can maybe understand Lynn not wanting to sleep after spending so much time kept asleep and getting lied to all the time and not feeling anything real–like, that might be really scary, trying to sleep after that kind of thing, because maybe you’d wake up and it wouldn’t have been real either and– 

Yeah, Billy can definitely understand not wanting to sleep after that.

[monotonykillsartist]

So headcanon Fawcett was way ahead of their time and also they make there own laws, cause like sure try going into the city and try to enforce straight marriage only or segregation cause like they literally have alligator people who are green blue faries pink nymphs so why would they care I'd someone was dark skinned. Also also someone did once try to go and argue against same sex marriage and was killed by a nymph, and then another one had their head caved in by a centar.

Interviewer: "So, Captain Marvel, I have to ask. Since Fawcett is a city that's been stuck in the 50s, how do you guys feel about same sex marrage?"

*Both Billy and Solomon confused like all the words make sense but put together seems kind of odd* Caption Marvel, confused head tilt: "What do you mean by that?"

Interviewer, slightly confused: "Err like a regular marriage but between two men or two women?"

Captain marvel let's out an 'ohhh' of understanding: "Well, in Fawcett, we don't have tha-" gets cut off by egar Interviewer

Interviewer: "So Fawcett is homophonic and stuck in the past?!?!" excited for a hot controversial scope.

Caption Marvel is even more confused now: "I mean, we don't have a specific name for it. We just call it marriage, like Sue and Sara have been married since I think the 20s?'

*Diffrent Interview with Different Interviewer*

Interviewer: "Since fawceet is stuck in the 50s, did you guys ever stop with the segregation?"

Captain Marvel with a look of disgust: "Ewww no we-" interrupted by Interviewer

Eger Interviewer: "So you guys are rassicst!!!"

Captian Marvel bewildered: "No we never started in the first place, Fawcett has always had a city wide ban on slavery and unlawful containment, no slaves were ever owned in Fawcett we did allow any and all to seek refuge from slavery. The city typically allowed them to stay."

Because really all Fawcett residents knew the city itself was sentient, and if it didn't want you there, you wouldn't last more than 48 hours.

*Diffrent Interviewer*

Interviewer: "What are your thoughts on the possibility of a female president, or do you think women should stay at home like the little housewives from the 50s?"

Captain Marvel offended on behalf of his city: "The founder of the city, the current mayor, is a woman. Her wife enjoys staying at home and upkeeping the house. Neither is better or worse than the other."

Interviewer: "I umm wasn't aware of that...err what about transgender people? Do you think to say about them?"

Marvel sighs: "What does that mean?"

Interviewer: "When someone is born, as say a man and chooses to become a woman, " looks on with intense eyes.

Captian Marvel with raised eyebrow: "So again like the mayor? We just call thoese folks blessed by the fae."

Interviewer looking lost: "I'm sorry what umm what exactly do you mean by that"

Captain marvel now in teaching mode, "So the fae do enjoy tricking people out of their names and legal identities but some people choose to just straight up ask to give their names to the a fae, then they just rename themselves. We have a whole system in place in case you need to make new identification. Also, if you ask one of the nymphs, they might help you with the rest of changing. That's how the mayor met her wife, I believe."

*peoples reactions to the Interviewers*

"Dang, a city stuck in the 50s has apparently been way ahead of the time since its founding."

"So I want born in the wrong era just the wrong city"

"Anyone else planning on moving to fawccet or just me? Hope the city accepts me, whatever that means lol"

[diamond-reads]

KAE YLANGELEGY WHEN I FIND YOU.......

but also. thank you. i got the notification for this while i was having a really really shitty day at work, and knowing that i had your writing to come home to made really was a light at the end of the tunnel. and so i must annotate this fic bc it makes me HAPPY and YOU make me happy:

Click.

tara diamonddaze01 #1 lover of onomatopoeia is HERE and i am already in love. the things i would do to freeze every moment spent with jeonghan.... print them and frame them and reminisce about memories.....anyways i digress its literally the FIRST WORD when will i learn how to RELAX

Your phone at eye-level; its camera, trained on him. There you are.

your camera is trained on him, but jeonghan is trained on you. a beautiful metaphor for how, in your world, he’s the subject of every picture—every thought, every moment. But in his, you’re the only thing in focus. and THEN the "there you are." really hits home - he sees you. i love the idea that the real you begins where the camera ends

This is how he knows he loves you: Your laughter always felt like a small victory. Even before, he’d crack jokes in staff meetings and his eyes would immediately go to gauge your reaction.  

say it with me: i LOVE love. and i LOVE this assertion that jeonghan doesn't want your laughter to feel like he's funny (he knows he's funny) but he wants it to feel like he's yours. i love the idea that he collects these victories, these pieces of you like a hoarder. it's subtle, this love - the kind that sneaks up on you in fluorescent-lit rooms and powerpoints presentations; the kind that falls in love with the way your eyes crinkle when he tries to make you smile.

I love you, Daesang winner Yoon Jeonghan!

I love this line, I love the heartfelt emotions that just...sneak up on you. the declarations of love that are sudden, that catch you off guard and make you laugh.

siderbar: oh ur so evil for the beautiful soul mention...... but the lyrics "I don’t want another pretty face / I don’t want just anyone to hold" play so BEAUTIFULLY off the line about laughter being a small victory. jeonghan treasures your laughter - something as intangible and as unique as your soul; jeonghan doesn't try to impress, but the small victories are a connection to you, and you laughter is vulnerable, real, and uniquely yours

i could wax poetic about song lyrics and your writing forever but anyways i digress...

At the twenty-minute mark, Jeonghan finally huffs, “I’m ignoring you.”  “Hm?” you say distractedly, and he resist the urge to chuck your phone into the nearby lake.  “I said,” he repeats. “I’m ignoring you.”  You glance up at him, unamused. “You are literally talking to me,” you note.  “Well, I was ignoring you before that.”  “Were you?”  “Yes. You didn’t notice, so I thought I’d inform you.” 

kae you write your characters with so much love - jeonghan is so fucking ENDEARING i want to put him in my pocket. oh yoon "must-have-the-last-word" jeonghan how i adore you so

Jeonghan is supposed to be sulking, but that small word— we— has him fighting down a smile. It’s his account, his digital footprint, but you’re the mastermind. You’re the one behind the man, the myth, the legend. 

i'm so :((( no one TOUCH ME. his reaction is so.... on the surface, jeonghan is the charismatic, untouchable legend, but beneath it all, you’re the one grounding him, supporting him, making sure the myth doesn’t outshine the man. you’re the quiet, steady presence behind the scenes, and jeonghan loves you for it in ways he probably doesn’t even know how to express fully.... i want to kiss him....

“Get some photos of your actual boyfriend,” he grumbles.

sulky pouty BABY come HERE let me KISS IT BETTER!

siderbar: i had never listened to zild before this but oh my god i love this song. my fav lyric so far: "Gagawa ako ng kanta, / Na ikaw ang pamagat" ("I will make a song/With you as the title"). I feel like this mirrors the line "It’s his account, his digital footprint, but you’re the mastermind." - you are the one behind his image. your presence in jeonghan's life makes him who his is; he may be the “legend” in public, but in private, you’re the one crafting the story behind the scenes. this is mirrored so well in Lia by the sentiment of putting someone at the forefront of a creation. oh to love someone to the point of creation....

He didn’t want a civil breakup. He’d much rather go out kicking and screaming than have something amicable.

oh jeonghan.... here comes my character analysis because kae writes like honey and i am drawn in like a fly:

idk i feel like this jeonghan just thrives on intensity and raw emotion - the imagery of a breakup being "civil" feels so foreign to him because he’s the type who prefers things to be messy, uncontained, and loud. he doesn’t want the quiet closure; he wants something that feels like it mattered, something that leaves a mark. there’s this craving for validation, to feel like the end of something—whether it’s a relationship, a chapter, or a part of himself—needs to be remembered. If it’s civil, then was it even real? Was it even worth the effort?

re: “kicking and screaming” - he wants passion, he wants fight, he wants to know that you two struggled for it. it's like this deep-rooted need to avoid anything that feels too easy, too comfortable. he’s the type to throw himself into the storm of emotions, to feel the thunder roll through his chest, even if it means suffering. because in the suffering, there’s proof of how much it all meant. A quiet goodbye just wouldn’t feel earned for someone like this. he wants to be remembered

if i got this wrong kae pls ignore me. LMAO. ONWARDS!

Jeonghan tugs at your hand and shakes his head. Focus on me, he’s wordlessly saying, and for once, you do.

what a beautiful line - for someone who has spent the entire relationship looking over her shoulder, making sure no one is watching, it speaks volumes to finally lay it all to rest, to see him, to just be.

You squeeze Jeonghan’s hand reassuringly. “I’m not throwing anything away. I’m just compromising.”  “I don’t want you to have to compromise anything for me.”  “Compromise is part of a grownup relationship, Hannie. It’s a good compromise.” 

[sobbing violently] something something to be loved is to be changed...something something to love is to compromise...something something to love is to make space for growth.... no one look at me ever again.

sidebar: oh my GOD tum se hi mention you want me DEAD okay!!!!! one of my favorite lyrics from the song are "Main tera sarmaya hoon" which literally translates to "i have become your property" but stylistically it means "I am because of you". something about that line + this jeonghan makes my heart break in ways i didn't know was even humanly possible. there's this the profound sense of belonging and dependence that the lyric evokes. it’s about becoming something through the other person, because of them—there’s this raw vulnerability in it that makes my chest aches. Jeonghan knows he is because of you, he's so intertwined with you in a way that makes him feel whole.

When he goes to kiss you, it bears none of the threatening front that he’s trying to put up. It’s a slow, sweet thing. A glimmer lighting up his cotton sheets.  He only pulls away when he can no longer physically manage to keep kissing you. There’s the beginning of a grin on his face as his breaths come out in short pants, as his eyes stay closed. He’s savoring the moment, trying to remind himself how damn lucky he is even if the cost involves running his own SNS accounts henceforth.  But then you’re laughing, your fingers threading through his hair. You tug Jeonghan back down despite the fact that you’re just as breathless, and his lips curl into a full-on smile when they meet yours. 

I apologize i have nothing intelligent to say here. my brain is broken and i am in tears because DEAR GOD i am in love with this man!!!!!!!!!

tldr; kae you have, and i kid you not, my whole entire heart. every character you write is like a thread of gold, and you weave together tapestries of love and life that make me feel. you stitch warmth and light into the fabric of the worlds you create, and when you step back to look at it, there’s this masterpiece that’s almost too beautiful to touch—but you do, and it feels like it was always meant to be held. The way you turn even the smallest, quietest moments into something that glows is like witnessing magic in motion—everything you touch turns to gold, and I feel lucky that i am allowed to feel its glow.

so disconnected 📵 jeonghan x reader.

if jeonghan's 'boyfriend material' posts are on point, well— you can thank his girlfriend.

★ jeonghan x social media manager!reader. ★ word count: 2.6k ★ genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff!!!, txt's soobin is mentioned, down bad!jeonghan, jealous!jeonghan. some smau elements. not proofread; we go out swinging, baby. ★ footnotes: "kae if i wake up to a single shred of jeonghan on ur page..." ¡sorpresa, @diamonddaze01! no further notes, your honor.

🎧 now playing: disconnected by 5 seconds of summer — i admit i'm a bit of a fool for playing by the rules, but i've found my sweet escape when i'm alone with you.

Click.

Jeonghan hasn’t even looked up and yet he already knows what he’ll find when he does. Sure enough, when he shifts his weight onto his other foot and glances away from the TikTok he’d been watching— there you are. 

He wishes he could see your beautiful face. Alas, it’s obstructed by the sight that he’s grown used to associating with you. 

Your phone at eye-level; its camera, trained on him. 

“Yah.” His high-pitched bid to feign annoyance is a futile one. Everybody knows that Jeonghan could never be truly irked by you, no matter how masterfully you pushed his buttons sometimes. 

After clicking away for a couple more minutes, you finally lower your phone. 

There you are. 

Jeonghan swears he’s not a sap, not what those people call ‘simps’. But something about your smile always makes him a little weak in the knees, makes him want to be The Best Boyfriend In The World, bar none. 

He gestures for you to come closer. Once you’re within reach, Jeonghan is already wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you in.

“Don’t do that,” you snipe as he brings you into his chest. “We’re in public!”

Jeonghan can’t hide the way his eyes roll. “I don’t care. This isn’t public. It’s the parking lot of your apartment building,” he says dryly. 

“Still public.” 

“Still don’t care.” 

You go to shove at Jeonghan’s chest. He responds by tightening his hold on you, a sound of protest rising from the back of his throat. 

“C’mon, just a minute.” He buries his face in the top of your head, breathing in the soothing scent of your shampoo. It makes something in his chest flutter. “I’ll let you go, just— give me a minute, sweetheart.” 

He can sense that your acquiescence is begrudging, but he takes it nonetheless. A win is a win, he thinks smugly as he takes the opportunity to hug you a little tighter. 

It’s been three months since you finally agreed to try dating Jeonghan, though you had insisted that it be kept on the down low. Something about decorum, discretion. Workplace violations? Jeonghan doesn’t really remember; he had been a little too excited at the prospect of finally being yours that he wouldn’t have minded any condition in the world. 

The past weeks have unironically been some of the best in Jeonghan’s life, though there were probably some things he could do without. 

“It’s my day off, you know,” he mumbles into your hair, “which means it should also be your day off.” 

You giggle, and the force of it has your shoulders slightly shaking against Jeonghan’s chest. 

This is how he knows he loves you: Your laughter always felt like a small victory. Even before, he’d crack jokes in staff meetings and his eyes would immediately go to gauge your reaction.  

He liked making you laugh. He liked being the reason behind your smiles. And, God, did he like you. 

“Let me think about it.” There’s a hint of teasing in your voice, followed by a little ‘hmmm’ of faux thoughtfulness. 

He’s about to bite back at you when he feels your hand at his hip, somewhat leaning into his embrace, and he instead channels his energy into holding back a dreamy sigh. You go on, “No, I don’t think so. Go pose by the wall for another picture.” 

Jeonghan leans back a bit, just enough so that you can see his furrowed eyebrows as he whines, “But I’m Daesang winner Yoon Jeonghan!”

The title is a new one. Five days recent, in fact, and Jeonghan is hoping it will cut him some slack. 

“Okay, Daesang winner Yoon Jeonghan,” you say without missing a beat. “Go pose by the wall.” 

Jeonghan peels himself away from you with a grumble. He knows he’s acting a bit like an overgrown child— stomping as he walks, pouting when he leans— but he trusts that you’ll find it endearing. 

You pull out your phone’s camera app. Jeonghan is ready to frown the entire way through, maybe sass you that you only told him to pose by the wall but you didn’t say how he should look. 

But then, instead of “One, two, three…”, you call out something else entirely. 

“I love you, Daesang winner Yoon Jeonghan!”

He can’t help it. 

He laughs, and you click away.

jeonghaniyoo_n ♫ Jesse McCartney - Beautiful Soul

jeonghaniyoo_n hang up the telephone and just be here with me Liked by pledis_boos, vernonline, and 1,932,049 others View all 2,109 comments

One pro of dating your social media manager, Jeonghan would argue, is all the ‘vacations’ that the two of you can go on. You’re there for every tour stop, every concert, and Jeonghan absolutely revels in the hour or two he can steal away with you. 

If only he could get you to stop working. 

He knows that you’re technically on the clock more often than not. Managing an idol’s social media presence was no small feat, and your entire shtick was about making Jeonghan look as desirable as possible on SNS. You’ve been doing a terrific job so far, if his steady rise in followers was anything to go by. 

Still. Jeonghan has been attempting to give you the cold shoulder for the past 15 minutes. Attempting, because you don’t even seem to notice that he’s gone quiet— too busy on your phone to pay him any heed. 

He shoves his hands into his pockets and clears his throat. He doesn’t even have to glance at your screen; he knows you’re probably on Lightroom, fine tuning the press photos of him from earlier this morning. 

At the twenty-minute mark, Jeonghan finally huffs, “I’m ignoring you.” 

“Hm?” you say distractedly, and he resist the urge to chuck your phone into the nearby lake. 

“I said,” he repeats. “I’m ignoring you.” 

You glance up at him, unamused. “You are literally talking to me,” you note. 

“Well, I was ignoring you before that.” 

“Were you?” 

“Yes. You didn’t notice, so I thought I’d inform you.” 

The beleaguered sigh you let out is not a new thing. Jeonghan has been on the receiving end of your exasperation for as long as he’s known you. 

At least there’s a hint of guilt on your expression as you tuck away your phone. “Sorry,” you mumble. “Everybody’s posting follower ranking listicles since it’s the end of the year. I wanted to see where we were placing.” 

Jeonghan is supposed to be sulking, but that small word— we— has him fighting down a smile. It’s his account, his digital footprint, but you’re the mastermind. You’re the one behind the man, the myth, the legend. 

He’s down so bad for you that it’s not even funny anymore. 

“And?” he prods, his earlier chagrin smoothed out into something that sounds a lot more like resigned affection. “How’s it looking?” 

The frustration that takes over your expression makes Jeonghan want to coo. It’s nothing short of a miracle that he manages to hold himself back. 

“We still haven’t beat out Choi Soobin.” You frown like the other idol has personally wronged you by having a higher follower count. “His boyfriend material photos are too damn good.” 

“His what?”

You whip out your phone. Jeonghan watches with growing incredulity as you pull up Instagram, and he’s less than pleased that user page.soobin is already one of your more recently searched accounts. 

When you shove your phone underneath Jeonghan’s nose, he’s treated to the sight of Soobin’s feed. “Boyfriend material photos,” you double down, like having a visual might somehow explain things away. 

Jeonghan snatches your phone from you. “I heard you the first time,” he says irritably. “But what does it mean?” 

“It means that he looks like somebody’s boyfriend,” you shoot back. 

Oh, Jeonghan does not like that. 

He doesn’t care if it’s just a term for a type of photo. The thought of you perceiving anyone else as ‘boyfriend material’ makes a muscle in his jaw tick. 

“Do you think,” he says coolly, keeping his eyes trained on your screen, “he looks like ‘boyfriend material’?” 

“I mean, yeah—” 

You’ve barely gotten to the end of your sentence before Jeonghan is handing you back your phone. “Where are you going?” you call out as he marches a couple of paces away. 

He looks equal part determined and peeved when he turns to face you. You have your eyebrows arched upward, but he’s more focused on making sure his good side is angled towards you. 

“Get some photos of your actual boyfriend,” he grumbles.

jeonghaniyoo_n ♫ ZILD - Lia

jeonghaniyoo_n we put the world away Liked by xuminghao_o, min9yu_k, and 1,000,289 others View all 2,109 comments

The day you tell Jeonghan about your plans of resigning, his first thought is Well, that was good while it lasted.

His attempt at being unaffected is a shaky one. You can tell by the way he holds his paper cup just a little too tightly, the way he keeps smoothing out invisible wrinkles on his coat. His poorly concealed distress makes your expression soften, which is somehow worse.

He didn’t want a civil breakup. He’d much rather go out kicking and screaming than have something amicable.

And he most especially didn’t want to be broken up with in some random café in Tokyo. He has half a mind to ask why you couldn’t have waited until the two of you were back home. 

Jeonghan swallows hard, like it might somehow help him swallow the panic simmering in the pit of his stomach. 

“Good for you,” he finally manages to respond. “You’re overworked here, anyway.” 

“That’s not the reason why I’m leaving.” 

Jeonghan hates how calm you look. The two of you had watched— and judged— one too many dramas, and so he’d imagined a breakup with you would be something like that. A rain-soaked street, choice words that neither of you could take back. 

Not you stirring sugar into your coffee like this is not a relationship-defining conversation. 

When Jeonghan doesn’t respond, you continue. Your voice goes a touch softer, and he’s struck with the fear that you’re trying to let him down gently. 

“I’m resigning because of you, Hannie.” That nickname— the one that once felt like a Daesang in its own right, when you first bestowed it on him— now makes Jeonghan’s heart feel like lead. 

“Because of me,” he repeats. 

His mouth is dry. His hands are clammy. He’s thirty seconds away from getting on his knees and begging you to stay, the rest of the café’s patrons be damned. 

Your next words are spoken like an unshakable truth. “Because I love you.” 

You— 

The look on Jeonghan’s face must be priceless; you start to laugh, and the sound of it eases some of Jeonghan’s fraying nerves. 

“I love you, and I want to be with you. Properly.” Your lips purse for a moment. “Well, as properly as being with an idol will allow, anyway. At least I won’t have to worry about getting called in by HR if I’m working someplace else.” 

Workplace violations. Right. That had been a thing. 

All the emotions hit Jeonghan like a truck. Relief (that you’re not breaking up with him), then affection (that you’re willing to do this for him), then guilt (that you’re willing to do this for him). 

He reaches across the table to place his hand on top of yours. Your eyes instinctively glance around your surroundings, checking to see if anyone is looking your way. Jeonghan tugs at your hand and shakes his head. Focus on me, he’s wordlessly saying, and for once, you do. 

“I love you, too. More than you know,” he says. “But I don’t want you to throw away your career for me. Who’s to say you won’t resent me down the line because of it? I— I couldn’t live with myself, sweetheart.” 

You squeeze Jeonghan’s hand reassuringly. “I’m not throwing anything away. I’m just compromising.” 

“I don’t want you to have to compromise anything for me.” 

“Compromise is part of a grownup relationship, Hannie. It’s a good compromise.” 

He must not look convinced, because you take things a step further. Instead of just clasping his hand in yours, you move to intertwine your fingers. There’s some comfort in the familiar feeling of your fingers in between the spaces of his. 

“Nothing is being thrown away,” you repeat, your tone brooking no argument. “I will not hate you tomorrow because of this.” 

Here’s the thing: Jeonghan trusts you implicitly, and not only with his SNS passwords. He trusts your no-nonsense attitude, your unshakeable feelings, your typically sound judgement. 

He wants to trust you now. He wants to believe so, so badly that there is something on the other side for the two of you, and that something would be exactly what the two of you deserve. 

He tongues the inside of his cheek as he considers your words. When he speaks, his voice is a lot smaller than he intends. 

“What about the day after tomorrow?” 

The initial confusion that flits over your expression is replaced by that grin he adores. 

“I’ll still love you the day after tomorrow,” you promise. 

He presses, “And the week after that?” 

“The week after that, too.” 

“What about the month after?” 

“I’ll do you one better— the year after, too.” 

You’re laughing, laughing in the way that he’s always tried to make you laugh, and it’s all Jeonghan needs to trust that things are going to be okay.

jeonghaniyoo_n ♫ Pritam, Mohit Chauhan, Irshad Kamil - Tum Se Hi

jeonghaniyoo_n my getaway, my favorite place Liked by ho5hi_kwon, everyone_woo, and 2,000,001 others View all 2,109 comments

Click. Click. Click. 

“What are you doing?” 

“What,” Jeonghan huffs, “A guy can’t take photos of his girlfriend?”

You throw a pillow in Jeonghan’s direction, though your terrible aim has it soaring right over his head. 

Ever since you left his company, Jeonghan has enjoyed an array of benefits that come with dating someone who is not your co-worker. The biggest of which happened to be all the time he’s now free to spend with you, most of which he’s happy to kill in his apartment. 

He’s still a little bit petulant about your new job, though, and he likes to voice it out as often as he can. 

“I bet Soobin has tons of photos of you,” he grumbles.

You pretend not to hear him. Jeonghan tries again. 

From the foot of the bed, Jeonghan begins to crawl over your legs. Your annoyed tsk goes ignored as he takes your laptop and sets it aside, dragging you away from your social media planning for page.soobin.

“He better not fall in love with you,” Jeonghan warns.

You let out a low hiss before swatting at your boyfriend, trying to get him off of you. He doesn’t budge, instead caging you in with his arms on either side of you. 

When he goes to kiss you, it bears none of the threatening front that he’s trying to put up. It’s a slow, sweet thing. A glimmer lighting up his cotton sheets. 

He only pulls away when he can no longer physically manage to keep kissing you. There’s the beginning of a grin on his face as his breaths come out in short pants, as his eyes stay closed. He’s savoring the moment, trying to remind himself how damn lucky he is even if the cost involves running his own SNS accounts henceforth. 

“I’ll give you your laptop back,” he murmurs, satisfied to have had an ounce of you.

But then you’re laughing, your fingers threading through his hair. You tug Jeonghan back down despite the fact that you’re just as breathless, and his lips curl into a full-on smile when they meet yours. 

He’d been happy with an ounce, yes, but who is he to complain when you give him the whole damn lot? 

jeonghaniyoo_n ♫ 5 Seconds of Summer - Disconnected

jeonghaniyoo_n Do not disturb. 📵 - YJH Liked by sound_of_coups, joshua_acoustic, and 3,392,034 others View all 30,109 comments

diamonddaze01 NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO ylangelegy just fell to my knees 💔 happy for you, king yourusername :-)