#and i’m not even doing that bad right now!

[mossangelll]

stray cat rescue

vi x reader

i’m so down bad for vi i could write like 20 absolutely filthy fics about her I NEEEED HER… ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

tw: detailed smut, reader is fem - 18+ mdni!!

Strobe lights flashed in the dingy club as you sobbed hysterically into your watered down martini.

Life was going great! You got a new job, adopted a cat and were even looking for a house with your boyfriend - you hated to brag but you knew you had hit the jackpot.

And then you found out your boyfriend of two years cheated on you. Two long years down the drain in the blink of an eye.

That was that. Your perfectly curated life was crumbling before your eyes and there was nothing you could do to make the situation better. No matter how loudly you protested, your friends, bless them, decided to drag you out of your depression-induced hibernation in order to lift your spirits. Needless to say, the night was a major fail.

You down the rest of your drink and stand up from the booth, resigning yourself to another night of sobbing into your poor cat’s fur.

Before you could make your escape, you bumped into a charismatic, muscular, attractive, no, very attractive woman - Vi.

She had a wicked smile and cocky demeanour as she told you she’d been watching you for a while, that she hated to see a pretty woman cry, that she knew the best way to cure a broken heart.

Now your makeup was running for a whole other reason.

Vi’s strong arms had manoeuvred you into a mating press, ankles dangling precariously over her shoulders as she lay off the edge of the bed and you watched her tattooed biceps bulge under the low light. Shit, she was so hot that just watching her made you wetter by the second.

“Fuck, princess,” she groaned into your pussy, the vibrations forcing another wail from you, making your eyes roll back into your head, “you’re absolutely dripping wet. Think you can squirt for me again, cutie?”

Her own low pants grew louder as she lifted her head from between your legs to look up at you. Her chiseled face was flushed a deep red, eyes glazed over and, fuck, the lower half of her face was drenched in your juices. If you didn’t know any better, you would think she was the one getting ate out.

But you weren’t one to question a gift horse in the mouth so you settled for roughly tugging tufts of her cropped hair in your hands to guide her mouth back to where it belonged. She groaned at this and you felt another pang of arousal hit deep within your core.

Her mouth returned to your sopping cunt but instead of eating you out like you hoped, her scarred lips left teasing, feather light kisses on the insides of both your sensitive thighs before plunging two thick digits inside of you without warning.

“Shit, you’re so tight, cupcake.” She hissed as her wrist flexed from the force of pistoning inside and out, fingers curling up towards the spongy spot with a come-hither motion that had you drooling from the mind numbing pleasure.

“Right there! Please, please don’t stop!” You keened and writhed, unable to keep still which made Vi chuckle, dark and full of sensuality.

“Can’t believe your ex just gave this up. Sure as hell can’t complain though.”

A rough hand manhandled your left tit, squishing and squeezing it in the palm of her large hand before she flicked your pebbled nipples, making you squeal in surprise.

Her eyes shot up from where they were glued to your heaving chest and a devious smirk spread across her face. She quickly yanked out the hand that was finger fucking you, blue eyes rolling playfully at your noise of indignation, to give attention to your neglected tit.

“You’re such a slut for me, crying out for me like this and I barely had to touch you.”

Her wet fingers left behind a trail of your sticky arousal that she promptly licked up so she could lather wet, sloppy kisses all over your chest that turned into sharp nips when she reached your delicate neck - you moaned breathlessly at every kiss and the thought of the dark marks you would find blooming tomorrow, only having enough energy to stroke her silky hair.

Once she had her fill, she dove back down to continue lapping up your wetness like a man starved. The way her tongue flattened against your crying pussy to lick a wide trail up to your clit made you feel like you were on the verge of passing out, nothing could feel better than this. Mounting pleasure built up inside of you, snaking up from the tips of your toes all the way to the top of your head like a pressurised can under a flame - you’re all but ready to burst.

But then she pursed her lips around your swollen clit and sucked down so hard your vision went white and you were convinced you must be convulsing as you came so forcefully.

You knew you squirted again as Vi’s pleased chuckles and loud slurps were a good enough tell tale sign for you - where had Vi been your whole life?

Her gravelly voice called out to you from beyond the thick fog that smothered you, the only thing that tethered you to the waking world, borderline snarling in the throes of satisfaction, “Think your little boyfriend could’ve fucked your brains out like this? Bet he didn’t know the first thing about making you feel good, doll.”

You started to come down from your high, thighs trembling and so, so sticky. The world had finally stopped spinning and you think it must be over, that you can turn over and go to sleep content and happy for the first night in a very long time.

It seemed that Vi had other plans as in your haze, she had enough time to put on an impressive a strap-on. Well, know you had proof she definitely wasn’t overcompensating for anything.

You gawked at the sheer size of the strap but somehow your pussy had became slicker at the thought of being pounded by her huge dick. Her sharp teeth flashed ravenously in the dim room as her well defined and sweaty body loomed over you- it was clear she was proud at the cum-drunk reaction she elicited from you.

She leaned down and tapped the side of your cheek and you instinctively opened your mouth, watching in morbid curiosity as she spat inside and claimed another part of your body. You yelped as she easily flipped you over and positioned you in doggy with a warm hand on the small of your back to arch it further.

You felt hotter by the second and another gush of arousal leaked from your pulsating core as you felt her plush tits and hard body drape across your back. Her hair tickled the side of your love-stained neck and you could feel the faintest touch of her chapped lips against the shell of your ear.

There, she whispered so lowly you had to strain just to make out the words, “God, I love ruining innocent girls like you that don’t know the first thing about a good fuck.”

[dollishmehrayan]

# BATBOYS WITH A SUNSHINE!READER ── .✦ ( basically batboys with a optimistic reader )

a/n: this was requested by anon (here) but anywayss i think I’m gonna do the world tour thing after my winter inspired fics/hcs end on like February 28th! (Dw i’ll still do the world tour thingy in between) but yahh also I desperately need writer mutals + mutals I mssg daily like I’m a very kind person idm if you dm me at like 4 AM, tags: (batboys x fem!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Absolutely smitten. Your optimism is like a magnet for Dick, who thrives on positivity.

He calls you his “little ray of sunshine” (even if you roll your eyes at the nickname).

If he’s feeling down, your relentless optimism is a game changer. “How do you do that? How do you make the world seem so… bright all the time?”

Constantly teases you, especially if you’re being overly cheerful during random moments. “Are you seriously smiling right now? We’re getting ready to head to bed!”

But secretly, he loves it. Your energy balances his occasional doubts && insecurities. (he lovesss positive people who live in their own world)

Dick starts picking up on your habits leaving little notes of encouragement, giving random compliments to strangers and realizes how much better it makes his day.

JASON TODD ── .✦

At first, he’s skeptical. He’s not used to someone so genuinely cheerful, and he might think you’re putting on an act.

“How are you this happy all the time? What’s your secret? Coffee? Dark magic?”, “I just like seeing the world differently, I’m a poet in my mind.”

But over time, he warms up to your positivity and even craves it (to a point he gets sad if you aren’t around for more than 4 hours). You’re the light that cuts through his darker moments and more sulking personality.

“I don’t know how you do it, but you make me feel like the world’s not completely screwed.”, “what did you say?-“, “Nothing go back to sleep.”

He pretends to be annoyed when you try to cheer him up after a rough day, but he secretly loves when you coax a laugh out of him.

Jason starts jokingly calling you his “emotional support sunshine.” He’ll tell Roy, “Yeah, they’re like my personal antidepressant.”

Will protect your positivity at all costs. If anyone tries to dim your light, they’ll have to deal with him.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Finds your optimism so refreshing. Tim can be a little too caught up in stress and overthinking, so your energy is like a breath of fresh air.

He’s constantly asking, “How are you so happy all the time? Teach me your ways.”

If you leave him little notes of encouragement, he’ll treasure them forever. He has a drawer full of them and pulls one out whenever he’s having a bad day.

Sometimes, your cheerfulness makes him feel a little guilty. “You’re so good, and here I am being a grump.” But you always remind him it’s okay to have bad days.

Tim loves how you bring optimism even to his most chaotic moments. “Yeah, sure, we’re being late, but hey, at least it’s not raining, right?”

He’d be a little overwhelmed by your energy at times, but he admires you deeply for seeing the good in everything.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Damian does not know what to do with you at first. Your cheerfulness is a complete mystery to him.

“Why are you smiling? We are surrounded by incompetence.”

He pretends to be annoyed, but deep down, he finds your positivity oddly comforting.

Over time, he starts looking forward to your optimistic take on things. “Yes, fine, maybe there is a silver lining. Stop gloating.”

You have a knack for breaking through his tough exterior. If he’s grumpy, you’ll say something so genuinely kind that he can’t help but soften.

Damian secretly loves how you see the good in him, even when he doesn’t see it himself.

He starts to mimic your habits, like giving Alfred small compliments or trying to look on the bright side, but he’ll deny it if you call him out.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Bruce admires your positivity but doesn’t always understand it. “How do you manage to stay so cheerful in Gotham of all places?”

At first, he worries your optimism will make you naive, but he quickly realizes it’s your strength.

Your energy is a stark contrast to his brooding nature, and he starts leaning on it more than he cares to admit.

When he’s stuck in his head or doubting himself, you always know what to say to pull him out of it.

“You make it sound so simple,” he says after you give him one of your pep talks. But he smiles because somehow, you do make it simple.

You bring a sense of warmth and nostalgia into the Wayne Manor. Bruce finds himself more relaxed when you’re around, even in the middle of chaos.

He’ll never admit it to the others, but your optimism is one of his favorite things about you.

[whistlewritesforfun]

I had been (sorta) (kinda) (maybeeeeee) running a cult out of my ranch for years now. It was going pretty well I’d say! It was small but that made it inconspicuous. It was generating plenty of money for me and nobody cared enough about the run down ranch a few miles outside of town that the stranger individuals would visit frequently.

We had just finished up the usual “sacrifice” of a rat, a stringy thing I decided to put out of its misery after seeing it in a pathetic little tank in the store, when a blinding light emerged from its carcass. It was this odd grayish green color. Reminiscent of a rather painful turd or some especially stinky vomit.

Of course every religion needs a figurehead. I’d found some random God in an old history textbook from my mythology class. I’d just so happened to choose one that had a rodent schtick.

You could imagine my surprise when the little rat I’d just speared through exploded with that ugly green light, then warped and twisted. Convulsing about as it changed shape into what could best be described as a star made out of flesh, bone, and rat fur. It was hands down, the GROSSEST thing I’d ever seen.

And THEN the thing had the audacity to start speaking. Every utterance from its tongue caused another convulsion in the warped rat, a faint glow of that green emitting from the eyes. Which were much too far apart by this point. It really was horrible to look it, there were little bones sticking out and puncturing the flesh everywhere. Eugh. I should’ve picked a less gross god, maybe then I would’ve be in this horrendous predicament.

The warped rat body spoke to the congregation for about 30 minutes. For 25 of that I wasn’t paying attention because I didn’t want to barf all over my supposed deity. (There were little droplets of that disgusting rat blood on my ceremonial carpet. That particularly irked me.) For the last 5, I do not think I shall soon forget it.

“This my dear congregation!” (The rat… thingy… hovered a little bit closer to me.) “is a true servant! A true leader! And a true follower. He has blessed you with the gift of my existence. He has shepherded you along the way and through adversity to create my return! This man! He is now my high priest, henceforth until his death!”

“I’m what?” I couldn’t stop the blunt words from falling out of my mouth.

“You’re my high priest!”

“… riiiiiiiiiiiiight.”

“Do you… have doubts?” The rat-jumble asked, its scratchy voice reminded me of someone who was talking right after waking up, but very deep and highly unsettling.

“Am I really quite… priestly enough?” I asked, cringing slightly. It was evident I had made a very very grave mistake by this point.

“You’ve been preaching g for months. You brought me back from my slumber. I was sure I’d never be worshipped again. You are most certainly my high priest.” He… it… the rat thingy assured. I just nodded. I had entirely screwed myself. I was gonna be stuck with this cult the rest of my life…

“To go with your title high-priest, I will bestow on you a gift of my choosing.” Oh goody. Please don’t be dead rats. Please don’t be dead rats.

The rat sphere drifted nearer, the dripping of blood still grating on my nerves. Keeping the abject terror off my face was difficult beyond imagination. The orb then rotated so wherever the tail went in the warped carcass could tap me gently. As it did, I felt the most exhilarating burst of what I can only describe as rat magic.

“You shall be able to heal even the most sick and miserable. With your words, your touch, your compassion. The spread of sound and healthfulness shant be stopped but by your own limitation.”

I wasn’t sure what was appropriate at that moment so I kneeled. A particularly bad idea, as it now bug me in the rat-blood splash zone. I mean SERIOUSLY! This is the grossest vessel that he could’ve possibly picked! My carpet is entirely ruined!

With that final statement however, the pen fell to the ground with the most hideous mush noise, a few crackles, and what can best be written as a “Skrrrrrrsht.”

Now what on earth was I to do with this information… or ability. I certainly couldn’t heal my mind from what I’d just witnessed transpire. Believe me, I was trying. The divine are disgusting. So I wordlessly lead my congregation out of the doors of my makeshift chapel, and to the Waffle House half a mile away.

As is usual for Saturdays, we all ate at the Waffle House in our congregation robes. Today though. The viscous syrup warming my throat brought to mind the mental imagery of the rat blood. I shoved it aside and decided maybe to forgo the waffles… just for today.

You started a scam religion for a quick buck. You begin to panic when your fake god was actually a real forgotten one awakened from new worshippers, declared you it's high priest, and granted you the power of healing.

[steveseddie]

apply directly to the forehead

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles | prompt: alone | rating: t | wc: 997 | tags: hurt comfort, steve has migraines, eddie takes care of him, hand holding, forehead kisses read on ao3

No one notices when Steve slips out the front door. No one but Eddie, who tells Jonathan he’s going out for a smoke and follows him.

There are only woods around the Hopper-Byers cabin, and the only light comes from the Christmas lights hanging from the roof so it takes a moment for Eddie’s eyes to adjust to the near darkness. He sees Steve sitting on the steps with his head between his knees and taking slow, deep breaths. 

“Steve?” Eddie speaks softly, trying not to startle him but Steve still flinches. “You okay?” 

“I’m fine,” Steve mumbles, keeping his head down. 

Eddie sits next to him. “Wanna try again? That wasn’t very convincing.”

Steve groans but it’s not his ‘Eddie is being annoying’ groan, it’s a pained groan. 

“‘S just a headache, ‘m fine,” Steve insists but his voice sounds weak. 

“Look at me.” Eddie squeezes his knee. “Stevie, please, look at me.” 

Steve sighs but lifts his head. Eddie can’t help but wince at how he looks. His face is twisted into a grimace, his skin is paper-white and there are tears in his eyes. 

“Oh, Steve. It’s a migraine, isn’t it? A bad one?” He gently brushes some hair off Steve’s face. Steve gives a tiny nod. “When did it start?” 

“A few hours ago,” Steve says with a shuddery breath. “While shopping with Robin, all the lights, the music and the crowds–”

“Why didn’t you say something?” 

Steve shrugs, then winces. “Didn’t want to worry anyone.” 

“Of course not.” That’s why Steve still showed up to the Hopper-Byers Christmas party, knowing there would be loud music and even louder kids, and then forced himself to smile through his pain. Eddie sighs. “C’mon, I’m taking you home.” 

“No, Eds–” Steve protests weakly. “I can drive myself-”

Eddie huffs. “Steve, you can’t even keep your eyes open right now.”

“But the party–”

“–will carry on without us,” Eddie finishes, rolling his eyes. “Wait here, okay?” 

Steve sighs and nods, and Eddie squeezes his knee again before heading back inside. 

He finds Robin and tells her that Steve isn’t feeling well and he’s taking him home. 

“Do you want me to come?” She asks, worried.

“Nah, I got him,” Eddie says. Steve wouldn’t want someone else to leave the party early because of him. “Just tell Hopper I’ll pick up the van tomorrow, okay?” 

“Okay, thanks, Eddie,” she says with a quick hug. 

Outside, Eddie finds Steve leaning against the railing, looking like he’s about to keel over. 

“Alright, big boy. Let’s get you home,” he says, leading them to the Beemer.

“No van?” 

“Nope. You complain about how fucking loud my van is on a good day. Figured you wouldn’t appreciate it today of all days.”

Steve chuckles weakly. “Admit it, you just want an excuse to drive a cool car for once.” 

Eddie scoffs indignantly. “My van is plenty cool, Harrington.” 

“Uh huh.” 

He sticks his tongue out at Steve and starts the car. The drive to his house is quiet. Eddie turns the radio all the way off, Steve keeps his head against the window and his eyes closed, and Eddie tries his best not to jostle the car too much. 

He has to gently shake Steve’s shoulder once they arrive and then he follows him inside. 

He goes straight to his bedroom and collapses on the bed, taking his shoes off but leaving his jeans and his ugly Christmas sweater on. 

Eddie finds some sleeping clothes and tosses them his way. “Take those jeans off, Harrington.”

Steve huffs. “At least buy me dinner first, Munson,” he says, his hands working on his belt buckle. 

Eddie’s cheeks turn pink but with just the moonlight illuminating the room through the curtains, he doubts Steve can see it. “So that’s what it takes to get into Steve Harrington’s pants?”

“Usually,” Steve says, shoving his jeans off before sliding on sweatpants, keeping his movements slow to not make his headache worse. “But for a guy as hot as you, I can make an exception.”

Eddie chokes on his spit. Leave it to Steve to flirt while his head is waging a war against the rest of him.  

After changing out of his Christmas sweater, Steve falls back into bed, burrowing his face into his pillow with a groan. The mattress dips when Eddie sits next to him, his back against the headboard. Steve blinks one eye open. “You don’t have to stay, I’m–”

“-in no condition to be alone right now,” Eddie finishes, rolling his eyes.

“You should go back to the party. I didn’t mean to ruin your night–”

“Steve Harrington called me hot. Nothing could ruin my night after that,” he jokes even if there’s some truth to it. 

Steve groans– this time it is his ‘Eddie is being annoying’ groan. “I’m gonna regret saying that.” 

“Because you didn’t mean it or–”

“Oh, I meant it,” Steve says, rolling to his side and looking up at Eddie through half-lidded eyes that might not have anything to do with his migraine. “But now you can hold it against me.”

“It would be kind of hypocritical of me since I also find you hot,” Eddie says, playing with a rip in his jeans. 

Steve’s fingers find his, intertwining them. “If my head wasn’t about to explode I would suggest we do something about that.”

Eddie’s widen. “Something like–”

“Like kissing. Though I could be persuaded to do other things.”

“Jesus,” Eddie says laughing shakily. “Now my head feels like it might explode.”

“We can talk in the morning,” Steve says, shifting until he finds a comfortable position. 

“Thought you didn’t want me to stay,” Eddie teases.

“Said you didn’t have to stay, Eds. I always want you here.” 

Eddie’s stomach flutters. “Okay,” he says, sliding down until he’s lying next to Steve, their fingers still intertwined. 

“Thanks for taking care of me,” Steve whispers, half asleep already. 

“Anytime, sweetheart,” Eddie says softly, kissing Steve’s forehead. “Anytime.”

[mywritersmind]

NOT SO HAPPY HOLIDAYS - LN4

↳pt.5

christmas special

part one - part two - part three - part four

summary : As the days start getting closer to Christmas, you find yourself even more comfortable with your previous enemy. In a drunken spirit and ego boosted from karaoke, Lando can’t control his words. Even when Max finds you two in bed together.

og summary : Spending Christmas with my brothers best friend isn’t my ideal way to celebrate. With my parents in the maldives and my ex calling me non stop, I was hoping for a small town cozy christmas! I was going to get that with Max and his girlfriend until Lando Norris worked his way into the mix.

listen up : dual pov! alcohol! swearing! drunk lando!

words : 3334

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“Lando. Listen to me.” Oscar says over the phone, his voice registering in my brain but being distinctly distracted by two women taking instagram photos next to me.

“I am listening.” I mumble, watching Y/n turn and smile at the camera. My phone vibrates in my hand and I see that Oscar has requested facetime instead.

“What?” I look at the man who’s sitting in the sun and probably at the beach, “Can you pay attention for two seconds? I don’t want to be talking about work either.”

I sigh, turning away from the girls, “Can I ask you something?” I walk farther away just in case they can hear me.

Oscar groans at me still being off topic, “Shoot.”

“How did you know Lily fancied you?”

His brow jolts up, “I mean, We were pretty young, I just remember that she spoke to me a lot and she-” Lily pops her head in the call now.

“Don't listen to him, Lando! He was absolutely oblivious even though I was literally a giggling school girl around him.”

Oscar looks at her lovingly, “You were quite smiley.”

“Okay wrap it up lovebirds.” I roll my eyes.

Lily leaves and Oscar looks at me quizzically again, “So, who do you like so much that would possess you to ask that question?” I stay quiet for a moment, glancing back at Y/n who’s backlit by the sun, “Aren’t you with your family? Or Max and his girlfriend right?”

“No one. I’m just curious.” Deny deny deny.

He hums, “Wait… Doesn't Max have that sister you stalked all year-”

“Okay bye Oscar!”

He scrambles to get words in, “Wait we still need to talk about-”

I hang up on him.

⋆༺

Max and I have been kicked out by our the women. More like I was kicked out and Max was just craving a coffee. It’s not my fault I can’t cook!

After almost catching Y/n’s hair on fire, I was banished to the little coffee shop that’s been getting us through this week.

The barista hands us our coffees and one hot chocolate for Y/n. Max and I walk slowly to our car, looking at the scenery on the way. “I’m excited for Christmas.”

I smile as Max hums, “You’re awfully chipper.” He gives me a side eye and a smirk, to which I promptly shove him, “Ugh! I do not want to know!”

He laughs, “I know that P teases you about it, But I really do think a girlfriend would be good for you.”

I don’t just want a girlfriend. I want Y/n. I kick a rock at my feet, mumbling, “Yeah I doubt that.” I meant that he wouldn’t want me to have a girlfriend if it was his sister, just he scoffs.

“Think about it! This year was completely fucked and yeah a lot of good shit happened but imagine how much easier the bad shit would be if you were in love.”

“You’re disgusting. Us ten years ago would be gagging at this conversation.”

He’s smiling still, “Yeah and that’s because I am in love.” I roll my eyes at his cheesy ass, “How do you have no roster, mate? It’s honestly embarrassing.”

“Maybe I do.” I sip my coffee, “I don’t have to tell you everything.”

“Maybe i’m just hanging out with Y/n and P too much, their best friend girly vibes are fun.” He points to me, “Still, it’s break! Get your groove on!”

I walk faster, shaking my head. “Groove? I’m going to leave you in the snow.”

⋆༺

you

I’m in a mini dress in the snow. What could go wrong?

I slip five minutes out the door which makes Lando’s arm become my new best friend even though my faux fur coat keeps tickling him.

We may or may not have pregamed for the tiny local bar which has me slipping on ice. “Four jolly jolly shots please…” Lando reads off the bar's menu, laughing a bit.

He looks good. Like really really good. His curls are perfect as usual and when he leans over to talk to the bartender, his dark green shirt tugs against his arms.

My brothers arm goes around my neck, tugging me and laughing, “Merry Christmas, sis!”

“Let go of me you vermin!”

“Shots!” P sings, handing me mine.

“Cheers to us!” Max grins, holding his tiny glass up.

“Cheers to Christmas.” P smiles happily.

Lando taps his glass on the table along with us, winking at me, “Cheers.” We all down the weird peppermint alcohol and swiftly make our way to the dance floor.

We sing along to shitty music and dance together in a crowd of college kids home for break, and their parents.

Lando’s hand finds my waist and is quickly slapped away. He gives me a pouty look which I find annoyingly attractive and quickly turns it into a smirk.

I down my drink, spinning back to my friends and dodging a guy and his friends. “Hey!” The guy smirks and I accidentally laugh in his face, he looks about five years younger than me and is staring at my chest.

I find my friends laughing and drinking with a random man who sort of looks like santa.

“Y/n!” Lando puts his arm around me which I promptly pull off.

“Aren’t you busy trying to hook up with a tourist?” I blink at him while my brother and P are distracted.

He leans in a bit, “You’re a tourist, aren’t you?”

“You trying to get in my pants, Norris?” This makes him smile.

“I’m familiar with the area.”

I find myself at the bar again, but this time I order water. P and I giggle at the sight of Max and Lando just standing there looking lost without us.

“I’m really proud of you.” P says out of the blue.

I frown, “Thanks? I’m proud of you too.”

“I just mean… you’ve been through a lot.” I know what she means. My ex. “And you’re the best person I know.”

I smile, “I adore you, P.”

The truth is, my ex cheating really did break me. But I already knew something was wrong. I wasn’t being treated correctly and honestly breaking up with him was not on the top of my to-do list.

P was always there for me, my brother is a lot to handle and sometimes I just need a girl to talk to. That girl for me is P.

She pops back to her boyfriend while my water gets refilled. I swear this altitude is fucking with me, i’m so thirsty all the time.

“Hi.” I'm about to yell at the college guy who approaches me, until I realize there is no way this man is under twenty five.

“Oh! Hi.” I smile politely and tap the bar.

I clock his douchy attitude as soon as his ringed hand (which definitely came from shein) and patchwork tattoos land on the bar, clearly flexing.

“You’re gorgeous… Sorry, I just had to tell you!” He acts shy, like it’s horribly embarrassing to hit on. woman.

“Thank you…” Is all I can say before he continues.

“I’m Seth!” He’s australian… I think? He’s got short hair with dark skin that makes his eyes pop. “Are you visiting? I am.”

I nod and sip my water, “Yeah…”

“My girlfriend used to live here! My friends let me choose the place and…” He’s going on a long rant that I definitely did not consent to hear.

He’s loud in the way that i’m embarrassed to be heard with because he’s talking nonsense and trying to scoot closer to me with every word he speaks.

I bring my glass to my lips again, looking around then back to Seth who is still talking about his ex. Did I do something to offend the universe?

The hand on my hip scares me, but I don’t jump. I know the feeling too well by now. Lando’s smiling at the bartender, a protective arm around me, “Three green tea shots, thanks.”

He leans his hip against the bar, holding me close as my cheeks go red and I start chugging my water. Seth looks absolutely astonished, “Who’s your new friend, Sunshine?”

“Seth.” I say, swirling my straw around the cold glass.

“Hey man…” Seth looks scared. “I- I didn’t know she was taken.”

“She’s not.” He’s quick with it and I have to bite back my smile to contain myself from embarrassing Seth even more.

“Oh…” Seth hums, clearly wanting to go but I know Lando’s doing that thing where he states blankly at someone while smiling. “Well uh…”

“Choose your words carefully, Seth.” Lando slides him the shot then hands one to me. I decline and he downs it easily.

“Thanks.” He downs the drink with Lando, “And sorry.” Seth looks at me before scurrying off.

I turn to Lando, his hand never moving from my body, “Who knew you were so intimidating?

He shrugs, “I don’t mess around with the people I care about. Plus he just seemed like he was bugging you.”

“Quite talkative.” I smile softly as he laughs, “You’re good at the whole protective act.”

“Who said I was acting?” His face is serious when he says it, but immediately changes when he hears Max’s voice.

“Yo!” His hand drops to his side and he smiles at my approaching brother, “They have karaoke!”

P and Max end up on stage exactly two drinks later. I stick to water, my head already hurts from the others singing.

They're singing Ain’t No Mountain High Enough, and sort of slaying it. Max spins P as they both laugh and pretend they’re at some sort of concert.

“Please get up there!” I giggle with Lando, my hand on his arm as he smiles at me in that dreamy way he does so often.

“No way, Sunshine.” His eyes lined on my lips, his words a bit slurred.

“Please, Lan?”

A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, “What’ll you give me if I do?” My breathing quickens as he looks at me, drunk and so out of it that he looks like he’s about to kiss me.

I reach my arm out to fix the messy bit of his hair. His eyes follow my hand and drift down my arm back to me. There’s something so personal about the way he looks at me but it’s hard to explain.

He’s got many different expressions and maybe I'm just a bit self centered, but I swear he has some just for me.

He’s drunk now so all secrecy goes out the window. He’s lucky Max and P are singing so horribly on the tiny sticky stage.

“Whatever you want.” I pull my hand away, “When you’re sober, though.”

“I’m not even that many drinks in!” He scoffs in a whiny tone.

He’s five drinks in I think.

“But i’ll do whatever you say apparently.” His chair makes noise against the floors, practically pushing P and Max off the stage as his chosen music starts.

Linger, by the cranberries.

My smile grows as he starts, absolutely butchering the song immediately. He looks fucking free and absolutely ridiculous.

The microphone against his lips as he spins around and points to me, “You’ve got me wrapped around your fingerrrrrr!”

It was my favorite song in highschool.

He’s a terrible singer and incredibly drunk but knows all the lyrics by heart.

Max starts videoing and Lando flips him off, P is actually in tears and I feel a sense of calm and quiet happiness. It’s weird to think about, especially surrounded by sound and drunken people.

Still, I really do appreciate my friends in moments like these. I watch Lando on the stage again, his eyes are closed and he’s singing along quietly.

Most of the bar claps when he’s done, providing him false confidence even as he almost falls from the stage.

Lando slumps himself in the chair next to mine, Max and I speaking about old Christmas’ and how weird it is that so many things have changed.

P talks about her family traditions and how she’s happy we’re all together even if it is a bit unconventional.

Lando stays quiet, just hums along to the music and keeps his eyes closed. Max laughs at his friend, “Ready for bed, Bob?”

“I can drive back.” I sit up.

Max and P aren’t quite ready to go and assure me that they can take a cab. Lando, however is piss drunk and giggling at everything I say.

He holds onto my hand as we leave, the cold air hitting him like a wreck, “Ay!” He practically runs to the car, tries to get in the driver's seat, and finally gives in to me driving.

“I don't want to go back!” He complains as I drive off.

“We can… look at lights?” He nods eagerly and rests his head against my arm, his fingers drift up and down my arm, doodling invisible drawings.

I drive through the small neighborhoods, all quiet for the time of night. The lights are bright and nothing like where I actually live.

Lando slips his hand in mine, holding it tight and looking out the front window. I let him rub his thumb against my skin, acknowledging the goosebumps it sends up arm.

Maybe I let myself pretend like it means something more than Lando’s drunk touchy self.

His curls brush my bare arm because he requested I take off my coat and turn the heat up instead because it was ‘itching him’.

And I did it because something about Lando makes me just want to say yes.

“I wanna house like that.” He says, pointing to a medium sized white home. It’s got colorful lights all over and a tiny display of Rudolph in the yard.

“I like this one.” I take my free hand off the wheel for a second and point. It’s across the street and covered in white lights.

I keep driving as Lando turns the radio on which is playing Christmas music.

He hums along with the song that he most definitely doesn’t know.

His hand goes to my hair, twirling it around his finger as he looks up at me, doe eyed, “Can I have my reward now.”

“You’re nowhere close to being sober, love.”

He stops when I speak, whispering as if there’s a million people around, “You called me love.”

“You’re not even gonna remember this tomorrow.”

He gasps, “Tomorrow's Christmas eve! What a good present. You love me.” He hums and rests his head back against my shoulder.

“Keep dreaming, Norris.” I say while smiling.

We look at all the different lights, rating them and laughing. I mostly laugh at drunk Lando who can’t stop laughing.

Lando rolls down the window and even though it’s freezing, I let him. It’s silent out, except for our music on low.

“Do you like me?” Lando asks as I start back to our place.

I raise a brow, “Sure.”

“But do you?” He looks up at me but I don’t dare look down.

“I don’t hate you.”

It’s easier to get him into the house than it was to get him in the car. Besides a tiny slip, he laughs it off and instantly pulls his shirt off when we step inside the hot house.

We both stumble upstairs, I'm so tired that I could fall asleep on the floor. Yet I drag myself into the bathroom and remove my makeup and change into sweats and a hoodie.

Lando is in sweats now, leaning against the bathroom door as I brush my hair. “I can’t sleep.”

I laugh, “You haven’t even tried.”

“Come with me?” I shake my head, going to my own bed. He follows me still, catching my wrist and begging, “Please. I’m cold.”

“You have no shirt on.”

“I want you to.” He admits and for a second I wish he wasn’t so fond of Vodka.

I’m dragged into his bed, his arms wrapping around me quickly and humming against my hoodie, “You’re warm.” His hand goes to mine again, holding it.

“You’re gonna get us in trouble.” I say as I see the smirk on his face.

“The doors locked.”

His hand is still intertwined with mine when he looks up at me. I probably look terrible, but he just smiles.

“You’re really beautiful, Sunny.” His voice is clear and the softest it’s been in a while, especially while drunk.

He yawns and rests his head back on me. Lando whispers while his eyes are closed, i’m not even sure if he meant to say it out loud, but he does. “I hate you for it.”

It’s the first time his words really hit me.

“Why?” I whisper, staring up at the ceiling.

“You know.” And then he’s asleep and i’m stuck with a man cuddling me who I think I just might like more than I ever thought I could.

⋆༺

There’s few times in my life where I completely regret my life’s decisions. This might just be one of them.

Max is staring at us with his mouth open.

Max is staring at Lando’s shirtless self and his bare arm that’s around me!

I elbow Lando so hard that he wakes up with a groan. “Five more minutes.” He tries to pull me closer but I slap him again.

He opens his eyes this time, at first they’re narrowed at me as if I had the audacity to wake him up. Then he turns his head to what i’m staring at and promptly sits up straight.

“Goodmorning, Max!” He grins.

“Shut the fuck up.” My brother responds, Lando’s face goes slack and lays back down, covering his face with a pillow, “Is this why you two wanted to leave early yesterday?”

“No!” I say right as Lando says, “Yes!”

“I think I'm going to throw up.” Max starts pacing while I see P peek her head in from my room, surveying the situation as I mouth ‘help me’ and he leaves me.

“Chill out! Nothing happened.” I say while Lando moans and reaches for the water on his bedside table. “Right, Lando!?” I hit him again.

He sends me an annoyed look, “Right.” He takes a drink, wiping his mouth and looking at Max, “Trust me mate if something did happen she wouldn’t be wearing anything.”

I think he might still be drunk.

Max and I scream in unison. I climb out of the bed, my leg getting stuck in the bedsheet.

“I came to check if you two were still alive because it’s eleven in the morning, but Lando’s door was locked. Yours wasn’t and your room connector was wide open!” I roll my eyes and stomp into my room.

“His drunk ass practically dragged me in there and I wanted to sleep!” I shrug, putting on my slippers and pulling my bed head hair into a messy bun.

“My head is pounding, can you two be quiet!?” Lando says from the other room.

Max follows me down the stairs, “Nothing happened?”

“Nothing happened!” I echo, finding P in the kitchen and sending her a wide eyed look, “He was drunk, Max.”

I pour myself some coffee, crossing my arms as Max gives me a look. Lando comes thumping down the stairs, hoodie on now with his hair an absolute mess. “Guys…”

Max stops him, “If you make another sex joke Lan, I might kill you.”

“Hey!” He groans, taking my coffee from out of my hands and drinking it! I roll my eyes and pour myself another. “I was just going to say-”

“Choose your words very carefully, Norris.” I mumble.

“Happy Christmas Eve.” He raises his mug, smiling at all of us.

“Oh.” Max blinks as P lets out a little snort.

“Well then…” P smiles at me, “I think it’s time to cook!”

[blissfullsvn]

if i say, i love you

summary. after a long day, all you really want is to be in taesan’s arms.

pairing. han taesan x reader genre. fluff, established relationship word count. 0.9k warnings. n/a a/n. fun fact: this wasn’t the original taesan fic i wanted to post for his bday bcs stms it’s easier to write sth in 3 hrs than finish a draft you’ve had for the past 5 months 👩‍🦯 but as always, please enjoy this, and i hope everyone gets to have their own taesan in their lives :) masterlist

you and taesan have never been overly touchy with each other. it’s not that you both dislike physical touch; you just tend to express your feelings more often through quiet moments spent together.

today, however, you need taesan more than ever.

you trudge inside your shared apartment, your body feeling unbearably heavy. taesan is sitting on the sofa with headphones and his ipad propped up on his knees, a contemplative look on his face. it’s a familiar sight, one that occurs whenever a new idea for a composition strikes in his head and he has to record it down immediately, so you usually leave him alone to not disrupt his creative process.

seeing this, you force yourself to stand by the door, hoping for at least a greeting before you can retreat inside your room—if your boyfriend was busy, you’d rather break down without him seeing.

almost immediately, taesan looks up and smiles, the kind where his eyes are squeezed into crescents and whiskers appear under them. but when he finally sees you, he instantly plants his feet on the floor, setting his ipad aside and ripping off his headphones.

“y/n?” his voice is soft and gentle. he always treats you like a delicate flower; it makes you feel like you can fall apart in his presence and he’ll be there to pick up your pieces.

“y/n,” he calls again, and he’s about to get up before you briskly walk towards him and all but jump on him.

with your knees on either side of him, you wrap your arms around his neck and drop your head on his shoulder. noticeably, taesan tenses at the uncharted touch, and a moment of hesitation lingers. but his arms quickly shoot up to envelop you, hands resting firmly on either side of your torso as he holds you tightly against himself.

he remains silent, letting you take in his warmth as he gently caresses your back. you nuzzle against his neck, wanting to get as close to him as you can. despite his surprise at your touch, he doesn’t make it known and mirrors your actions, nosing your collarbone as he pulls you even closer.

you thought you would break into tears immediately in his arms, but the more you lean into his touch, the more you feel your weariness dissipate, until the huge lump in your throat eventually melts as well.

sensing your breathing calm down and your body turning lax against his, he places a kiss on your neck and whispers against your skin: “i’m here.” it’s a simple declaration; two words that neither push you to speak nor stop you from sharing, but just to remind you that, whatever it is, he’s always by your side.

“i… had a bad day today,” you begin, and taesan’s hold on you never once falters. as you tell him about what happened, his fingers continuously draw idle circles on your back, and he hums softly to reassure you that he’s listening.

“how do you feel now?” taesan, gentle as ever, asks after you stop talking.

“...a lot better,” you confess and nuzzle against his neck again, landing a peck there to emphasize your point.

“i’m glad.” the smile is evident from his voice alone, even if you can’t see his face.

a few more moments of silence pass between you, the two of you simply relishing each other’s company. it’s only when you catch taesan’s ipad light up with a notification from your peripheral vision that you remember what he had been doing before your almost-break-down.

you pull yourself away, but your hands remain on his shoulders, as do his on your waist. “you were composing something before this, right?” your eyebrows are knitted in guilt, lips jutting out similarly. “sorry, i didn’t mean to interrupt you… you can continue now.”

“no, don’t apologise,” taesan replies immediately, shaking his head. he reaches up to tuck your hair behind your ears and smiles, fondness seeping from every pore, “i’ll always put you before anything else.”

it’s strange how the emotions you initially expected to spill over from your negative experiences today are now threatening to escape from these seven words instead. with the lump returning to your throat once again, you don’t trust your voice to speak.

instead, you move your hands to cup his face and lean down to place your lips on his, letting your body do the talking instead.

with every movement, your feelings translate from your heart to his. his grip on your waist tightens as he cranes his neck to capture more and more of these feelings, until both of you are rendered breathless from all the emotions filling your bodies, squeezing around your ribs, your lungs, and your hearts.

when you pull away, the dazed look on taesan is something that you want to carve into your mind forever. for someone who’s never uncomposed, the fact that he’s been rendered like this, and because of you, makes your insides twist with something far greater than you can explain.

“i love you.”

for now, you’ll settle with the word ‘love.’

© blissfullsvn 2024. All Rights Reserved.

[tanadrin]

I would love to hear the rant about social media doomerism and conspiracy

I’m on my phone right now but the summary version is something like:

Humans are bad at integrating information into their worldview accurately bc of various cognitive biases

Social media incentivizes us seeking out content that excites fear or anger or irritation

Social media thus causes us to form negative impressions of the world bc it mediates so much information consumption and discourse these days

This general negative affective impression is subject to high confirmation bias and ppl in general are really bad at divorcing an affective impression of a thing from their dispassionate reasoning abt a thing

(Bc one of the functions of an affective impression is to “cache” our conclusions about a topic to save time and effort later)

(In general if you are a cynic and pessimist you can fall prey to these biases w/o social media but I think social media makes more ppl susceptible to them)

People don’t want to be dupes so they seek refuge in cynicism. We treat cynicism as wise or worldly when in fact cynicism makes you a dupe and an easy mark for grifters. Cynicism and low trust foster conspiracism, paranoia, and antisocial politics

(This is why so many congenitally contrarian folks seem to flit effortlessly between the far left and far right; it’s not horseshoe theory, they’ve just cooked their brains on this stuff)

This is a world where populist anti-social politicians like Trump and the AfD thrive, bc they will lie about how everything is terrible and people will nod along, bc it explains why their social media is full of awful stories of, like, immigrants eating pets and shit

But it doesn’t just have to be insane lies only a moron could believe. It can be any impression about a fact in the world that it is difficult to personally check and which is vulnerable to being swayed by anecdote

This is how we get a word where people think crime rates are higher than they’ve ever been when in fact crime is falling

Or child predators lurk around every corner when in fact children are safer than ever

Or the American economy is in a recession when in fact it’s doing historically well by just about every available metric (now with full employment AND low inflation!)

Because in a big world even where things are in general good and getting better you can always produce infinite individual examples of shitty things and pipe those in a steady stream into people’s eyeballs, and then point to that and leverage people’s low trust attitudes and their cynicism which tells them they are smarter than the experts and go “statistics is just a fancy way to lie! The world is secretly terrible! Every bad thing is even worse than you thought and every good thing is a lie!”

(Nevermind the whole phenomenon where anything that is complicated or that someone does not themselves understand gets treated like it’s actually secret and a conspiracy.)

And here I know I have to include some disclaimer about how this is not to discount individual cases of suffering or struggle, which are real, or that there are indeed some really awful things happening in the world right now, which there are, but you know what?

I’m tired of doing that. People with reading comprehension operating in good faith ought to be able to deduce that general statements do not obviate particular exceptions, and people who cling to their doomerism as a kind of emotional life raft do not generally argue with me in good faith.

Sometimes doomerism is a load-bearing pillar of their politics, which I think is dumb—I think you can be a leftist or a progressive without being a doomer! In fact I think doomerism is antithetical to useful politics!

Sometimes they are just depressed and treatment-resistant. Sometimes they are just angry misanthropes who want to feel justified in their misanthropy. Some doomers are themselves in bad circumstances and feeling hopeless about that—to them I am enormously sympathetic. Though a lot of doomers will admit they personally are doing OK—this does not seem to be most doomers.

But I think in general cynicism and doomerism and a worldview dominated by a general nebulous air of Everything Is Awful and by abstract nouns with threatening auras is not conducive to wisdom or understanding or useful politics or leading a happy and fulfilling life.

[thepixelelf]

hockey player cheol x reader warnings: non-graphic injury; mention of surgery. wc: 499

[sign me up] You think Seungcheol is being all whiny and cute just so that you’ll do what he wants, which isn’t so bad. What’s bad is that it’s working.

Almost.

“C'mon, Coach—”

“I’m not your coach,” you cut in. The entire team likes to tease you by calling you Coach Junior since your dad is their actual coach. Of course, you’re around enough that you’ve kind of earned the title, but Seungcheol teases you with it the most.

“You’re the closest thing to it,” Seungcheol reasons, still smiling like that will convince you. “C'mon, please? You’re the only one who can convince him.”

Sitting in the bleachers as you watch the team practice, you cross your arms and frown at Seungcheol. “No way. Your doctor was very clear about your healing process. Even once your cast is off, you need to wait at least another two weeks before you get on the ice.”

Seungcheol sighs, dropping the cutesy act. He looks like he wants to lean forward, but it’s awkward with his heavily-casted foot. “You’re just as stubborn as your dad, huh?”

“You should know that by now.”

“I’m starting to get the idea.” Seungcheol closes his eyes, head falling back while he lets out a long sigh through his nose.

For a few moments, you just look at him.

This is a really sucky situation; you get it. Eight weeks from now, team scouts are going to be attending two games, and while Seungcheol should be back on the ice by then, his cast means little to no practice until the games. He’s at a real disadvantage.

All you can hear is the slapping of pucks and the skidding of skates on the ice. You don’t like awkward silences.

“Can I sign your cast?”

Seungcheol opens his eyes and looks at you with a brow raised. “You want to?”

A few days ago, the whole team visited Seungcheol right after his surgery, and they’d all signed his cast. Even your dad did, but for some reason, you just didn’t. You felt like you weren’t close enough to Seungcheol for that. After all, you’re just the coach’s kid. You’re not a part of the team.

“Yeah.” You shrug as though this isn’t a weirdly big step for you. “Got a marker?”

Seungcheol pulls out a marker from his hockey bag, probably used to people asking for one. It’s an ugly green colour, but you uncap it with a pop and move to the bleacher below you so that you’re right next to his cast. Without even thinking, you end off your signature with a heart.

Your breath catches slightly, but then you look up at Seungcheol, and he’s smiling — really smiling for the first time since he screwed up his ankle. You give him a small smile back, and you doodle another heart.

And another. And another.

[quarterlifekitty]

Hi! could you possibly write something about a fuckboy!soap and shy!reader that he uses for sex, and she keeps letting him? im craving angsty angst ANGST that just keeps hurting…you don’t have to if you don’t want to and thank you if you do! Have a great day!

Okay, one thing you all should know about me? Is that I’m a weenie lol so I can’t help but make things a little hopeful most of the time. Also— gonna make this like a college type AU

Soap clocks you from a mile away when he sees you at a party. There’s a cup of beer in your hand that you’ve been nursing, just sipping to have something to do while you cling to the side of the friend who forced you to come.

He’s seen you in his classes before. You’re good. Not the type to be seen in a place like this. And that kinda whets his appetite. He wants to fuck you, break you, make you fall apart for his own amusement.

He nudges Gaz— they have the routine down to a science— splitting up the birdies that are a little too huddled together so they can have their way with them. Gaz runs interference this time, Johnny mouthing an “I owe ye” his way— chatting up and pulling your friend away to talk a bit more. You’re alone now, and Johnny swoops in, weaving through people on a warpath.

He corners you expertly, and you’re a pathetically easy read. Easy to tease, to coax, to push. He just has to throw in a few lines about how pretty you look, peppered between him saying he’s always wanted to talk with you, always admired you in class— he gives just enough detail to lull you into thinking this is courting. That he’s going to fuck you because he likes you.

Works like a charm. Always does. You clumsily follow him to his room—“Ye didnae ken? This is my fraternity’s house, bonnie,”— as he pulls you along by the hand.

He enjoys pulling you apart. Like the birds taking Prometheus’s liver. He’s not a complete animal, he makes you cum, but he doesn’t give you kisses the way you’d probably hoped he would. He’ll tell his mates later— it was kinda cute how fucking bad you were at giving head, too.

He lets you stay the night even though your clinging is a bit annoying. Pushing you out would burn this bridge, and he’s not ready to do that just yet. Not when he could keep having fun.

Come morning your clothes are tossed your way (sans panties, those are going in his trophy collection), and he has the decency to drop you off at your place with the promise of further contact.

Come your next class, he’s back to acting like he doesn’t know you. You’re shy, but you’re not stupid. It’s easy to see that you were played, and you curse yourself for falling into it.

So why do you show up when he texts you, asking you to come over?

Promethean indeed.

And it keeps happening.

It’s not like he treats you badly— that’s what you tell yourself. You’re just the idiot for expecting more than orgasms. It’s nice to feel wanted. It’s not nice to put your clothes on and get out right after, but you’re willing to ignore that. You shouldn’t be. But you are.

You’re not the kind of girl who gets asked out. So why refuse the one source of attention you have? He makes you cum, right? That’s more than a lot of guys do, so it would be unfair to expect more. High maintenance. Right?

If Johnny can see the hurt behind your eyes when you turn to check behind you when you leave, as if he’ll suddenly change his mind and call you back into bed to hold you, he doesn’t do anything about it. He’s content to tug on his jeans and brush past you with a cigarette in his mouth.

You steel yourself as usual, double checking the straightness of your clothes as if it’ll make you feel like less of a cheap whore when his housemates glance your way as you leave.

The door across from Johnny’s is almost always open, despite how closed off its occupant seems. You’ve never met Simon. Well, you really haven’t met anyone in Soap’s life. That’s not what he keeps you for, is it? Fucktoys don’t get introduced to the friend group. Doesn’t stop Simon from staring holes in your back every time you leave. Must think you’re easy. Must wonder if Johnny’ll mind if he has a go. Or maybe he just thinks you’re pathetic. You certainly do.

But it’s happened one too many times. Apparently, even a worm will turn. His stare itches and crawls up your skin when you already feel like such a piece of meat— chewed up and spit out. And you must be losing flavor. Before long you won’t even have this. You turn to look at him instead of walking on as usual.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” You spit in a tone that surprises you. You’ve never said anything like that to someone, not in earnest, anyway.

“Lemme take y’out somewhere.”

What?

What?

[venuslarkspur]

Batsis And The Concerning Dating History

Summary: Some incorrect quotes of Batfam finding out about Batsis!Reader’s dating history.

Warning: Minor NSFW.

————————

Bruce: Are we gonna talk about it?

Batsis: about my date with Diana? Yeah it went well.

Damian: No sister, your peculiar dating history.

Dick: Yeah, remember when you dated the Green Lantern?

Batsis: Wait before we get into it, which one?

Jason: Tf you mean which one?

Damian: I agree with Todd, what do you mean by that sister?

Batsis: Which Green Lantern?

Batfam: …

Bruce: Y/n how many Green Lanterns have you been with?!

Batsis: Well technically, two.

Jason: I'm sorry, technically?

Batsis: Well yeah, I dated Hal Jordan, hooked up with-

Jason: YOU SLEPT WITH KYLE!?

Batsis: I was about to say Guy but sure Kyle was coming next anyway.

Bruce: I am appalled.

Batsis: And don't ask about John, I still think about him sometimes.. *literally starts tearing up*

Dick: Awh you miss him that bad? :(

Damian: What's even happening anymore?

————————

Dick: How was your date with Diana?

Batsis: Good thank you! It's nice to have a supportive person in the house. It went good but I think we are just gonna keep it platonic.

Dick: Okay, fair enough.

Batsis: But on a serious note I think Roy and I are going to give it another go. 

Dick: Did he bait you with Lian?

Batsis: No but it doesn’t hurt that she already sees me as her mother, no to mention Roy and I do this crazy posit-

Dick: Too much information!

———————

Tim: Why is this in your room? *holding up a dusty, button up shirt.*

Batsis: Oh shit, I think it’s from when I was dating John Constantine, you know him right? He must of left it here.

Tim: I would ask but you’ll probably go into too much detail for my liking.

Batsis: Oh my gosh the things we got up to in here Tim-

Tim literally traumatised: I’m leaving now, *plugs his ears*

Batsis: … Good I thought he would never leave. *starts messaging Roy asking when she can come over*

———————

Goodnight everyone <3

[coqhee]

ROOM FOR YOU

✷ enhypen hyung line being clingy

day 20 of melodies to memories ― p.sh x f!r fluff healing 1OO3

it’d been a whole 3 years since you’d last seen him after you graduated from high school, and only now had you received word from the man himself that he was moving back.

hoon: “i’m coming back to town soon for college, should we meet up?” 

you stared at his text wondering how you should feel. the boy was your first friend, first crush, first everything except for anything relating to ‘boyfriend’. you wondered maybe if you’d said something before he left if he’d had stayed

little did you know, sunghoon harbored the same exact thoughts and feelings. you were his everything except for his girlfriend and how he wished he could call you his after all the time you’d spent together growing up

good thing sunghoon was thinking the same exact thing after he’d sent the text, wondering if it was the right call to text you back all this time.

the east coast just wasn’t made for him and he’d been wanting to go back ever since he got there.

he’d been meeting to call, ask many times ‘how’s it like back at home?’ or even ask about the lake you’d spent many summers in, dunking each other in, then basking in the fleeting daylight as you dried off. 

you’d meant to move on, appear strong and say that you were doing better now, and it was for the best, but seeing that text…you weren’t so sure. 

you knew there’d always be room for park sunghoon inside of your heart whether you liked it or not. 

y/n: would you have time to call sometime as well?

your fingers hovered over your phone as you hit send, heart pounding like you’d just run a marathon. it wasn’t like you to feel so nervous about a simple text, but with sunghoon, nothing was ever simple.

the three dots appeared almost immediately, and you couldn’t decide whether that was a good or bad sign.

as if almost immediately, your message was read and he was calling. it was about time you suppose.

“hey,”

“it’s about time you rang,” you force out a small laugh. at least you wanted to think it was forced, that he didn’t have you waiting endlessly on the call you asked him to give when he had landed at the other end of the country.

“you must’ve gotten up early, here it’s almost 10:30,” he continues on after a moment of silence either of you aren’t sure you’re comfortable with.

“yeah a bit, didn’t mean to wake up, so i’ll probably go back to sleep after this call,” you smile appreciating the concern.

“guess i got lucky then,” you hear him smile on the end. god, how you hated that you could predict his facial features just through his voice.

“so,” you started, breaking the silence that threatened to grow too heavy, “what’s bringing you back? homesick?”

“missed the west coast, missed home too much here,” you hear him laugh on the other end. it’s a laugh of carefulness and uncertainty.

you hum, acknowledging his statement, somewhere deep down hoping he’d say he missed you too.

“missed you,” you blurt out speaking your mind before he could start a new statement.

“i missed you too, not just as a friend, but as an everything,” 

his words hung in the air, thick with meaning. you froze, your breath catching in your throat as you processed what he’d just said.

"an everything?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper.

“yeah,” sunghoon admitted, his tone softer now. “i know it’s probably not fair to say this after all this time, but i couldn’t leave it unsaid anymore. i thought maybe if I told you now, we’d have a chance to… i don’t know, figure things out when i got back?”

“sunghoon…” you started, your voice wavering. “you can’t just say things like that out of nowhere.”

“i know,” he sighed. “i know it’s a lot, but I’ve been holding it in for three years. i can’t keep pretending i don’t feel this way about you.”

“you’re not special you know that right? you’re not the only one who hasn’t moved on, so fuck you too park sunghoon,” you laughed in a lighter tone. 

if sunghoon could explain that feeling, it’d felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders and he could never explain how the tightness in his chest dissipated by your words and tone alone.

“would it be better to talk about this, like when i come back?” he asked unsure if this was the best resolution to a phonecall where he practically said everything he’d been wanting to say for the longest time ever.

“maybe it would,” you replied, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the whirlwind of emotions brewing inside you. “but for the record, hoon, you don’t get to come back into my life and drop a bomb like that without dealing with the fallout.”

hoon. he’d love to live everyday with you calling him that again, bad or good day.

“i deserve that,” he admitted with a soft chuckle. “i just couldn’t wait any longer. i had to tell you.”

“three years, though,” you said, your voice teasing yet soft. “who moves to the other side of the country, never contacts their best friend, then decides to come back and let everything out after 3 years? are you crazy?”

“every single day,” he confessed. “moving away didn’t change how I felt. If anything, it made it worse.”

for the first time in years, you felt the faintest glimmer of hope for what could be. “then i guess i’ll see you soon, park sunghoon.”

“soon,” he echoed, and the word felt like a promise.

as the call ended, you sat there in the quiet of your room, your thoughts racing but your heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time. three years was a long time to hold onto feelings like these, but maybe—just maybe—it was worth the wait.

─── ♡

a/n: happy day 20 of melodies to memories! guess who forgot i have to MANUALLY upload this cause my blr is broken! day 21 will be out shortly as well so you lucky ducks get a DOUBLE upload, sighhh

melodies to memories tl (open!): @pshwrldd @hhmnya @wonsdoll @lovuegi @letmein2urheart @firstclassjaylee

@ coqhee 2024. all rights reserved

[karaeilishh]

𝜗𝜚 sorry? b. eilish . . .

a/n — you bitches wanted mad jealous dom billie so badly, here you go

cw — degradation, pathetic!reader, manipulative, jealous!billie

xmas fic n 2

maybe the christmas party was a really bad idea.

maybe your short red dress trimmed with fake white fur was a really, really bad idea.

maybe letting that girl buy you a drink was just a terrible idea.

“i-i’m so sorry, billie..” tears streaming down your cheeks, voice sounding so pathetic and desperate that her menacing expression is complemented by a chuckle. a loud intake of breath escapes plump lips before her piercing gaze burns a hole through your eyes. the pads of her fingers squeeze the sides of your neck painfully, nearly cutting off your airway. she can feel you pulsating beneath her grip.

“did i fucking tell you to apologize?” the wild glint in her eyes, the huskiness of her voice, so quiet yet terrifying, her entire existence made your legs buckle. you shake your head hysterically, unable to force the words out. the unknown is scary. "i said open up. wide"

you slowly open your mouth, the tip of your tongue resting on your bottom lip. her hand moves from your neck to grab your chin, almost breaking your jaw. her face is too close to yours, you can feel the hot breath passing through her clenched lips, the anger seeping from her entire being. "such a slut. mine"

it only takes a moment before you feel her warm, sticky spit on the back of your tongue, slowly dripping down your throat. your mouth is dry from the rapidity of your breathing.

"swallow, now" her tone is unwavering, terrifying, and you immediately comply, letting the liquid slide further down your gullet. she doesn't even call you a good girl like she usually does, her eyes are indifferent. just her fingers, parting your lips, pushing into your mouth. so deep that your gag reflexes work almost immediately. trying to lean further against the wall has no effect, billie just pushes her fingers further in, fucking your mouth. "suck"

lips wrap around three fingers, applying a little pressure as your tongue slides between them. her nails scratch the back of your neck, but it only adds more embers to the blazing fire between your legs.

as much as she loves the look of you like this, she gets bored quickly. her fingers leave your mouth with a dirty slurping sound, trailing a few strings of drool trailing from your lips. “you’ve upset me so much today.”

an apology threatens to fall from your lips, but you know that when she’s like this, you need to let her finish her monologue. iron rings burn against your heated skin as her fingers trace up your thighs. “i do everything for you, baby. and this is what i get in return? letting some slut buy you drinks.”

her tone of voice is sickeningly fake, making your stomach churn. billie was good at manipulating, making you feel so awful, just so she could fuck your brain mindlessly, turning your body and mind into a dumb mess. “it’s disrespectful, you know?”

more tears drip from your face onto your chest, leaving wet trails in their wake. "y—yes.." shame flooded your cheeks as you could barely see your girlfriend's face. she smiled softly for the first time, tilting her head to the side. "billie, i—i'm so sorry.."

"shh—shh—shh. my poor baby." her thumbs gently brushed the tears from your face as you shook under her touch. you both knew what a good attitude was the calm before the terrible storm. "you want to apologize to me properly, right?"

you nod.

"my sweet girl. only so obedient after she's been scolded."

tags - @chrissv4mp, @hkkuugu, @sweet3nerrr, @krosep, @stonerfromlesbos, @loveyoumatthewbernard, @47lake @ohdoyoustillcry, @bilsdillldough, @n0vabug, @bxllxeb, @hopingforgoodblogs, @mybluebossanova

[no-144444]

in sickness- c.leclerc

summary: you get sicky...

pairing: charles leclerc x fem! reader

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

When Charles had decided to go vacationing with his friends while you finished up your work before Christmas, he was not expecting what he saw when he came back. Every single blind in your apartment was down despite it being the middle of the day, the temperature was down from its regular 20 degrees, and you were nowhere to be found. 

He dropped his bags by the door and left his shoes on the rack, and he ventured further into the apartment. You weren’t in your office, nor your living room, nor your kitchen, so the last place was your bedroom. When he opened the door, he wasn’t exactly ready for what he saw. 

You, on your bed, looking sicker than ever, somehow asleep as you battled some sort of temperature. He put his hand to your forehead, and he almost pulled it right back off, you were so hot. He quickly grabbed a face cloth and ran it under cold water, then placed it on your head. He didn’t really know what else to do. You never really got sick, it was always him who was ill. 

He left you to sleep as he cleaned up the rest of your apartment. Not that it was messy, it was just not as clean as he knew you liked it, so he got to work. 

After about an hour of that, he decided he should make you soup or something, but then he remembered his abysmal cooking skills, and ordered food in, instead. 

When you resurfaced, you didn’t feel as shit as when you went to bed, which was a plus. The past 5 days had been this awful temperature, chesty cough, nausea, and full-body aches. You groaned as you got up, knowing you should probably start cleaning your apartment-

You questioned your own brain when you opened your door from your bedroom to see your entire living room clean. Had you done it and you just didn’t remember? Were you starting to forget things now? Is that a new symptom? You should probably go back to the doctor-

“My love,” he sighed, pulling you into a hug. 

“Charles?!” you questioned. 

“Hi darling,” he smiled, looking down at you. 

“I thought you were still in-”

“I came back early,” he explained. “What’s been wrong with you, mi beauté?”

You cracked a small smile. “I seriously doubt I look half-way beautiful right now.”

He shook his head. “You’re always beautiful.”

You rolled your eyes. “Cheesy,” you scoffed before letting go of him and walking to your kitchen. “I’ve just been sick, it’s not anything bad.”

He looked at you sceptically. “You’re sure?”

You nodded, taking out some of the soup. “Thank you for coming, but I really don’t want you to get this, so you should head to your apartment or something.” 

He frowned. “My own girlfriend kicking me out?”

You rolled your eyes again. “Your own girlfriend is looking out for your safety, I think you’ll find.”

He shook his head, sitting beside you on the couch. “I’m not leaving you. In sickness and in health.”

You sucked in a breath of air. “We’re not even engaged yet.”

He shrugged. “I plan on honouring that for the rest of my life, why not start now.” 

You grinned, resting your head against his shoulder on the couch as you started channel hopping. “You’re so sappy.”

He shrugged. He didn't mind anything you called him, once you still called him yours. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

navigation for my blog :)

ferrari masterlist

[purpamint]

Even after two years this is still one of my favorite comics I’ve made, and since it’s the holiday season, here’s the text version of it I wrote for it today that has some fun bonus details that I’m pretty happy with:

Back when Kris and Noelle back were both kids, they were opening presents while sitting by a Christmas tree. Kris is wearing their red horns that they supposedly wore a lot as a kid. Kris opens their present and reveals a green and yellow striped sweater. After Kris opens their present, Noelle cheerily says, “Merry Krismas! Dess and I worked together to make you this sweater!!”

Kris looks in awe, exclaiming, “WOAH!! so cool....”

Noelle gives Kris a thumbs up with a happy expression, saying “why don’t you try it on?”

“ok!”

Asriel and Dess are both looking at Kris now that they’ve tried on their new sweater. The sweater is visibly way too big for Kris.

Asriel is smiling, but his expression betrays the fact that he is a bit worried that the sweater doesn’t fit Kris, however he is still trying to stay on the bright side.

Asriel expresses, “It’s a bit oversized…”

Dess, focusing more on Kris’s enjoyment of the present than the size, looks to Asriel and assuredly states, “They seem to like it!” She proudly stands with her hands on her hips with a satisfied smile.

Kris wears their sweater with a delighted smile as if they were as content as one could be. It was as if in nothing the world could be better than as small as sweater made just for them. It was as if they would be fine if this one moment lasted forever.

Dess, continuing what she was stating earlier, laughs, “Hah! It doesn’t matter if it fits as long as they like it!” Clearly pleased at how much Kris seems to enjoy their present, she remains unbothered by the minor issue of the size. Asriel, less concerned after realizing Kris’s genuine joy at the sweater, finally agrees with Dess, albeit still reserved “I guess so!”

Many years later…

The world is completely black. It feels as if so much time has passed. The darkness only brings back those warm distant memories. The darkness feels like daydreaming with eyes closed. Those dreams feel real yet so fragile…

Noelle sees Kris while at school

Casually starting a passing conversation with an old friend, she laughs, “Woah Kris… talk about a flashback!! Fa-ha!”

It was like she was suddenly propelled millions of years back in to the past, reminded of both the embarrassing and the bittersweet moments.

Caught up in the moment of remembrance— almost as if all the years of distance between the two teens had suddenly melted away to potentially forge some sense of reconnection— she continues, “You haven’t worn that since…” Quickly trailing off.

Reality comes back like a tsunami of ice water over a blacksmith’s freshly re-heated piece of iron. The once re-shapable metal is now chilled and harder to change.

Now, the darkness has faded out.

Noelle couldn’t help but wonder about Kris sometimes. Why wear that sweater…? Not that it’s a bad thing, but it hasn’t been worn in ages…

With an inquisitive expression, she politely asks, “Any reason why you’re wearing it?”

Kris sits at their school desk slightly leaning forward laying their chin on their right hand. Their other arm lays on their desk as if they were partially crossing their arms. They do not look directly at Noelle. They almost appear as if they are not looking at anything at all— or at least not towards anything in particular. They have an introspective expression. Like they are thinking about old friends, old memories, old dreams… at least that’s what it seems.

“I guess I have been feeling nostalgic lately…” Kris replies. An indirect response like that from them was not unusual.

…but…

It seemed like that they were being honest.

It’s generally hard to read them, it was even hard to read them back when they were more open…but Noelle is so familiar with them that it is almost natural, even if the skill has a little bit of rust.

Kris looks softly at their sweater. It’s been so long since they’ve worn it, but they still remember the day they got it. They wished that day would last forever back then. Sometimes they still do. It felt so big back then, but now it matches their size much closer, even if it is a bit baggy in some places. But it’s honestly more comfortable that way… they never minded oversized clothes anyways.

They loved it so much because it was made with care, just for them.

It’s their favorite sweater…

It fits almost perfectly…

Little deltarune comic for the holidays! (About the Holidays too, wow) This took a bit longer to make than expected because I chose to make it on paper, so I had to do a bit of color adjustments to make it look right in the photos. Despite it’s lateness hope y’all like it! :D

[nlvrr]

GOAL OF THE HEART | jude bellingham

summary: a joke about being terrible at football leads to a flirty one-on-one session with jude, where teasing turns into something more.

warnings: none!

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader

it started out as a joke. during a group hangout, you’d admitted—half embarrassed, half amused—that football and you simply didn’t mix. you told them that you might actually be the worst player alive, no exaggeration needed.

jude, who’d been sipping on a drink nearby, nearly choked when he heard you. his eyes immediately lit up with playful disbelief, that signature grin spreading across his face like he’d just found the world’s biggest challenge.

“the worst player alive?” he repeated, leaning closer as if he needed to double-check. “nah. you can’t be serious.”

“dead serious,” you replied with a shrug, though you felt your cheeks heating under his gaze. “i’m a lost cause. don’t even try.”

he leaned back, crossing his arms with an air of smug confidence. “oh, we’re not letting that slide. i could coach you in, like, an hour. easy.”

“that sounds like a waste of your time,” you said with a laugh, but jude’s grin only widened.

“you scared?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, eyes narrowing in mock challenge.

and that was it. somehow, you ended up agreeing to a one-on-one training session, and now, here you were at the park, standing awkwardly on the grass while jude twirled a football like it was part of his hand. the late-afternoon sun hung low in the sky, bathing everything in golden light.

he set the ball down in front of you, already smirking. “all right, superstar. let’s see what i’m working with.”

you shot him a look before kicking the ball… straight into your own shin. it bounced pitifully off to the side, and you winced. jude, meanwhile, doubled over with laughter.

“oh my god,” he gasped, hands on his knees. “okay, that was worse than i thought it’d be.”

“shut up,” you muttered, crossing your arms.

“no, seriously,” he said between chuckles, walking over to grab the ball. “you’ve got, like, negative ball control. i thought you were joking!”

“do you want me to leave?”

he bit back another laugh, stepping closer until he was face-to-face with you. “you’re not getting out of this that easy.” his grin softened into something more encouraging. “but don’t worry, i’ve got you. you’re in good hands.”

“debatable,” you muttered, earning another laugh.

jude spent the next twenty minutes attempting to teach you the basics—emphasis on “attempting.” he showed you how to dribble with the inside of your foot, how to balance, how to aim. but every time you tried, you either tripped, kicked the ball in a completely wrong direction, or sent it rolling barely two feet in front of you.

“this is hopeless,” you groaned, throwing up your hands after yet another failed attempt.

“nah,” jude said, walking back over with that same annoyingly cocky grin. “you’re just… how do i say this nicely? really bad.”

you smacked his arm lightly, glaring at him even though his laughter was contagious.

“okay, okay,” he said, holding up his hands in surrender. “maybe we need a new approach.”

before you could ask what he meant, jude stepped behind you. his chest brushed against your back as he rested his hands on your arms, guiding them downward.

“relax,” he said, his voice dropping a little lower, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. “you’re way too tense. just focus on the ball.”

it was impossible to focus when his breath was warm against your ear and his hands were moving so gently yet firmly.

“you sure this is about football?” you shot back, glancing at him over your shoulder.

his lips curved into a smirk, and he leaned in just slightly closer. “why? is something distracting you?”

“you’re so annoying,” you muttered, cheeks flushing.

he only chuckled, his hands still resting lightly on yours. “keep telling yourself that.”

after what felt like a century, you finally managed to kick the ball into the makeshift goal. it wasn’t exactly a highlight-worthy shot—it rolled awkwardly into the bottom corner—but it counted. you turned to jude, expecting a teasing remark, only to find him lying flat on the ground, arms stretched out like he’d been dramatically defeated.

“you win!” he groaned, clutching his chest like he was in pain. “the student has surpassed the master.”

“oh my god, get up!” you laughed, walking over to nudge his side with your foot.

“i mean it,” he said, grinning up at you. “i’ve been absolutely humbled. what a performance.”

you rolled your eyes and plopped down on the grass beside him, both of you flushed and out of breath.

“admit it,” jude said after a moment, turning his head to look at you. “you had fun.”

you tilted your head toward him, raising a brow. “fun? with you? never.”

he grinned, shifting so he was leaning up on one elbow, his face suddenly a lot closer to yours. “nah, you love it. you love me, actually. go ahead, say it.”

“keep dreaming, bellingham,” you shot back, but the way his gaze dropped—just briefly—to your lips made your heart skip.

“for real, though,” he murmured, brushing a stray piece of hair from your face, his hand lingering for just a beat too long. “you did good today.”

you bit back a shy smile, pretending to brush it off. “well, what do i get for being your star player?”

he tilted his head, eyes sparkling with mischief. “how about dinner? you earned it.”

your heart raced, and before you could argue, he added with a smirk, “plus, someone’s gotta keep the coach company.”

rolling your eyes, you laughed. “you’re unbelievable.”

but you didn’t say no.

[scoupsakakitty]

Misunderstanding | idol!Vernon x reader | angst,fluff

The members were scattered around their hotel suite, relaxing after their final U.S. tour performance. Mingyu was stretched out on the couch, munching on snacks, while Jeonghan leaned back in a chair with a smug look on his face. Vernon, however, sat quietly, staring at his phone.

“Vernon, you’ve been looking at your phone for, like, an hour,” Seungkwan pointed out, throwing a pillow at him. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Y/N,” Vernon muttered, catching the pillow but not looking up.

That immediately got the attention of the room.

Joshua raised an eyebrow. “What about her? You two seemed fine last time you talked.”

“She’s ignoring me,” Vernon admitted, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve been texting and calling, and she hasn’t replied. I don’t know what I did.”

“Maybe you did something without realizing it,” Seungkwan said, leaning forward with interest.

“Or maybe she’s overthinking something and waiting for you to fix it,” Jeonghan added with a grin.

“I didn’t do anything,” Vernon insisted. “At least, I don’t think I did. Everything was fine two days ago.”

“Girls don’t just start ignoring you for no reason,” Jeonghan teased. “Trust me, I know.”

“Just call her and find out,” Joshua suggested.

“Yeah, call her now,” Seungkwan agreed, then smirked. “And put it on speaker so we can hear.”

“What? No,” Vernon said, frowning.

“Come on,” Mingyu chimed in, laughing. “We’re trying to help. If you get stuck, we can tell you what to say.”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Vernon muttered, but he relented, dialing her number and switching the phone to speaker. “If this goes badly, I’m blaming all of you.”

The members immediately leaned in, some trying to stifle laughter as the phone began to ring.

———————————————————————————

Y/N sat on her couch, scrolling through her phone. Her stomach churned as she saw the photo of Vernon and the girl yet again laughing together, looking like they were sharing a private moment. Her phone buzzed in her hand, and her heart skipped a beat when she saw Vernon’s name flash across the screen.

She let it ring a few times before answering, her tone sharp. “What do you want?”

The members collectively winced at her cold tone. Mingyu mouthed, This is bad.

“Y/N,” Vernon said cautiously. “Why have you been ignoring me? Did I do something wrong?”

“Seriously, Vernon?” Y/N snapped, her voice icy. “You don’t know?”

Vernon glanced nervously at the members. Jeonghan gestured for him to keep talking.

“No, I don’t know,” Vernon said honestly.

“Unbelievable,” Y/N muttered, her voice tinged with sarcasm. “Maybe it’s because this—whatever this is—clearly doesn’t mean anything to you.”

Joshua widened his eyes, silently mouthing, Ouch.

“What are you talking about?” Vernon asked, his tone edging toward frustration. “Of course, it means something to me.”

“Oh, does it?” Y/N snapped. “Because it sure doesn’t feel that way. You know what? Forget it. Go hang out with your other girls or whatever.”

The room fell completely silent, every member frozen in place.

“Other girls?” Vernon repeated, bewildered. “What are you talking about? There are no other girls.”

“Right,” Y/N said bitterly. “Not that it matters. We’re not even official, right? You don’t owe me an explanation.”

The words hit Vernon like a punch in the gut. He stared at the phone, momentarily speechless.

Seungkwan broke the silence, whispering loudly, “Say something!”

“Y/N,” Vernon said, his voice softer now. “Why are you saying this? What’s really going on?”

Y/N hesitated, her anger flickering. But instead of explaining, she shook her head. “Goodnight, Vernon.”

She hung up before he could respond.

The room was silent for a beat before Jeonghan whistled low. “That was… rough.”

“What does she mean by ‘other girls’?” Mingyu asked.

“I don’t know,” Vernon said, staring at his phone. “I have no idea what she’s talking about.”

“Well, whatever it is, she’s clearly upset about something,” Joshua said. “You need to figure out what it is before this gets worse.”

———————————————————————————

The airport was bustling as the members prepared to board their flight back to Korea. Vernon was quieter than usual, still turning the conversation over in his mind.

“Hey, Hansol,” Wonwoo said, walking over to him with his phone in hand. “You need to see this.”

Vernon frowned as Wonwoo handed him the phone. On the screen was a picture of him and a girl standing outside. The girl was looking up at him, laughing, while Vernon appeared to be smiling at something she said.

“That’s what Y/N must’ve seen,” Wonwoo explained. “My girlfriend just sent it to me. Apparently, it’s all over Twitter.”

Vernon’s stomach sank. “This is what she was talking about?”

“Probably,” Wonwoo said. “It looks bad out of context. If I didn’t know you, I’d assume it was a date.”

“It wasn’t a date,” Vernon said firmly. “She was just a fan. She asked for an autograph, and I didn’t want to be rude.”

“Well, you need to explain that to Y/N,” Wonwoo said.

———————————————————————————

Y/N wasn’t expecting a knock at her door, and she definitely wasn’t expecting Vernon. When she opened the door, her breath caught.

“Vernon? What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk,” he said, stepping inside.

She crossed her arms defensively. “I don’t think there’s anything to say.”

“Y/N,” Vernon said, his voice firm. “I know why you’re upset. It’s because of that picture, isn’t it?”

Her eyes widened, but she didn’t respond.

“The one of me and that girl,” he continued. “She was just a fan. She asked for an autograph, and I didn’t want to be rude. That’s all it was.”

“You’re serious?” Y/N asked hesitantly.

“Of course, I’m serious,” he said, his tone softening. “I didn’t even know the picture existed until this morning. If I’d known, I would’ve explained everything sooner.”

Her anger began to waver, replaced by guilt. “I just… I saw the picture, and I thought…”

“I get it,” Vernon said gently. “I would’ve felt the same way if it were you.”

Y/N looked down, her voice small. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” Vernon said. “I hate that this made you feel like you don’t mean anything to me. Because you do.”

She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face. “I do?”

“Yeah,” he said with a small smile. “And about what you said on the phone… you’re right. We’re not official. But I want us to be.”

Her breath caught. “You… what?”

“I want to make it official,” he said, stepping closer. Slowly, he reached up, gently tucking a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. His hand lingered on her cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against her skin as he held her gaze. “No more guessing, no more misunderstandings. I want to be with you, Y/N. For real.”

Her lips parted slightly, her emotions written all over her face. Tears welled in her eyes as her heart pounded. She nodded, a soft smile breaking through. “Okay. Let’s make it official.”

Relief and happiness washed over Vernon’s face as he pulled her into his arms, holding her close. The world seemed to fade away in that moment.

As they pulled back from the embrace, Vernon leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. “I’m so glad I have you,” he murmured softly, his voice filled with warmth.

Y/N closed her eyes, her heart feeling lighter than it had in days. “Me too,” she whispered.

———————————————————————————