#and that nobody will care for me the way i think they will. but then i come across ppl who make me laugh and feel like

[captain-kit-adventuress]

Let me tell you some things about American plumbers probably almost none of you know, especially because I've seen people complaining that plumbers make "$42 an hour while I can't even make $15!"

[Note that much of this is state-specific, so ymmv, but most states have an interest in keeping it pretty similar to what I'm going to outline.]

First of all, you have to be licensed, and anything licensed takes forever and costs a fortune. You spend 7 years as an apprentice plumber, which means taking full-time classes on top of full-time work, for which you definitely do not get paid $42 an hour, and you're lucky if you get $20. You're on the hook for all of the tuition and books and whatever else, tools and whatnot, and we all know tuition and books are out of control, but have you seen what decent tools cost these days? This in addition to all of the regular school stuff like a computer, an internet connection, probably a mobile phone of some description, etc. Some you may have already and some you may not.

That's just the education part. Next, even after you've completed your 7 year apprenticeship under extremely strict and exacting standards, for which you get paid almost nothing and have tons of expenses just like any other student, you're still under some kind of supervision for another few years. So you've put in about 10 years into this already and you're nowhere near pulling in the kind of income that people say plumbers make.

But once you actually get into being licensed and bonded and the whole shebang, maybe you get a job with a company, because it's really hard to hang your own shingle, especially in the larger communities where nobody knows anybody else or the quality of their work. You'll work for a plumbing company like anyone else, and let me tell you, it's like any other company where profit matters most and it's for shareholders and not anyone else.

Now comes the part you probably have never heard about: many, many, many plumbers don't really have health insurance for most of their careers, and if they do, it's like the shittiest insurance possible and they have to pay for much of their healthcare out of pocket. Except that these are plumbers, they're constantly on hands and knees on hard, unyielding surfaces, bending, lifting...really physical, difficult work. How many of you actually know how much a toilet weighs? it's anywhere between 50-120 lbs depending on a variety of factors. All that, in addition to actually diagnosing whatever the problem is and knowing how to fix it. Do that for the next 20 years of your life and you're not going to have any knees left, you're going to have a bad back, probably most of your other joints are shot or on the fritz in some way, and this is if you were healthy to begin with and didn't have many health problems during your career. Depending on the collective bargaining agreement, sometimes the unions will cover your healthcare at close to 100% after that, but when it was easier to prevent a lot of it by having time off and the ability to afford care? None of that is covered.

Not only that, but most plumbers don't really get paid time off from work, either, depending on what the agreements are. I know it doesn't seem like plumbers ever work timely, but everyone thinks they have an emergency when the plumbing breaks, and you've got to triage the for-real emergencies alongside the "Timmy backed up the toilet again because he keeps flushing his toys and now there's water and poop and who knows what else everywhere." That's not including the emergency answering services where they're relaying that stuff 24/7/365.

How is that different from most of us today, you might wonder? Because they're literally knee-deep in your shit from morning 'til night. All of the weird stuff you do to screw up your toilets, your sinks, your showers, your fixtures, your pipes, they have to deal with all of it. All of the clogs, the gross hair masses, the half-eaten food from when the disposal stops working, the people who don't know not to flush things they shouldn't, the people who do know and don't care, the floods when the sump pump stops working or there's so much rain it just completely overwhelms it, the people who are sure they can "fix" it, the people who listened to youtube or tiktok and picked the wrong accounts for advice, and most of all, metric tonnes of your actual shit and vomit and whatever other bodily excretions you've got. That is all hazardous enough on its own, and if you think it's gross, I don't think plumbers feel any differently, but it is a part of their job and there's no getting around it. They are paid to deal with all of the stuff no one else wants to even think about. And after they've been exposed to your biohazards for 10 hours a day, they themselves have to pay for any care they need to make sure they don't die from it. You know how many people have dangerous mold in their bathrooms and don't know it? I bet a plumber can tell you.

Those are the conditions with unions trying to fight for them.

[As one more note, not everyone wants to leave home, and that's fine! Why does anyone assume there are no tradespeople in cities when that couldn't be further from the truth? Don't be arses about geography.]

tl;dr: plumbers don't make the money you think they do, they spend half their career earning next to nothing and then when they finally start catching up their bodies are so shot they can't enjoy it; in the middle they have to deal with everybody's grossness and basic repair illiteracy, and they pay for most of it themselves.

source: I was an external auditor for a lot of trade unions.

some of the worst classism is white collar middle class americans against blue collar & minimum wage workers. “why does that plumber make more than me” because he’s been perfecting his craft for 30 years and you send emails. “they’re in the trades bc they’re too dumb to do anything else” ok take that engine apart and put it back together real fast babe. “they’re boring bc they never left their home town” have you considered they financially couldn’t? I am not saying it is anyone’s job to educate, nor you need to respect people who do not respect you, but while you maybe never sympathize we need to learn to empathize. consider why (who) allowed for massive parts of country to be uneducated and how many impoverished areas of this country haven’t had a voice for a very long time. we are all victims of the rich. remember it is up vs down

[fanzou]

Here's an idea? The OP guys. Sanji, Zoro, Law, (separately, of course) with a reader who has a crush on them, and they KNOW IT. (But nobody else does) So he just messes with her and gets her to blush, as his was of saying that he likes her too.🤭

Big, Fat, Crush

✗ Pairing(s): Zoro Roronoa x Fem!Reader, Sanji Vinsmoke x Fem!Reader, Law Trafalgar x Fem!Reader

✗ Summary: What do they do knowing you have a crush on them?

✗ CW: Reader is wearing a dress in Zoro's first half, Teasing... and it's RUTHLESS, Law makes reader cry but he makes up for it, it gets a little suggestive at the of Sanji's part [Let me know if I missed any]

✗ Total WC: Zoro’s Ver. (1.8K), Law’s Ver. (2.3K), Sanji’s Ver. (1.3K)

✗ A/N: Wow. If you couldn't tell I loved writing this. I didn't intend for it to get so long but here it is! Enjoy love.

ZORO RORONOA

“You want me to get you any more sake, Zoro?”

“Yeah sure, thanks.”

The bar is crowded, but not so much that it was unbearable. You and Zoro found yourselves at the little table across from each other in the very back of the room catching up and debriefing about today’s events. But the day wasn’t so very eventful, otherwise he’d probably be drunk by this point to alleviate and level himself. He liked to really enjoy the end of his day like this. It was a good day.

You were tipsy, but he on the other hand, always held his alcohol well.

“What do you wanna do tomorrow before we leave the island?” You ask him, he liked the silence between you two, even in a rowdy bar, but he didn’t hate when you talked to him either. You asked all the right questions, you weren’t obnoxiously dumb like the rest of the crew, even when you were under the influence.

“Not too sure yet. I didn’t get the time to check out what they had with your excessive clothes shopping.” He says so nonchalantly, taking a sip of the drink you got him.

You pout with your brows furrowed, cute, “I did not buy that many clothes!”

“It probably felt that way ‘cause I was carryin’ the bags all damn day.” He grinned at you, a mischievous one.

You roll your eyes at him, but then giggle into your own drink, “You’re insufferable.”

He doesn’t miss the way you blush at his harmless teasing.

He never does.

-

So…

You end up a little more drunk than anticipated.

And you can’t for the life of you remember what you did last night. Your head was pounding, like, real life pounding through your skull almost like it was angry for you being so reckless just a few hours ago.

But to your relief, your back on the ship, clothes from last night still on and somewhat in tact— a little wrinkled, and your dress was ridden up a bit more than you were comfortable with. You pull it down immediately in embarrassment. Hopefully Zoro didn’t see that. Anyway, you scope out the girl’s quarters to see that Nami and Robin weren’t anywhere to be seen, and there was none of the usual liveliness in the ship that you knew and loved, no running footsteps, bangs, booms, nothing. Assuming that the green-haired man probably took you back to the ship in your drunken state and took his own personal stroll into the small town at the island, you relaxed.

But you were probably gonna get an earful from the crew since Zoro had a tendency to get lost.

Your shame settles in, and you mentally curse at yourself for being so reckless when the team counted on you for being the more careful one of the two. But something about his energy was so comforting, and you felt so safe around him. The fact that he safely took you back to the ship was living proof of that and you got a little flustered at the thought.

How did he carry you back? Bridal? On top his shoulder? Were you faced forwards or back? Maybe not even carried at all, just arm slung around his shoulder— Whatever the case, the thought of the close proximity made you nervous to think about.

To your astonishment you hear a knock on the door to the shared room. “Come in!” You say, your head immediately punishing you for it.

To your surprise, Zoro opens the door, and comes in. He closes the door before he faces you. “You feelin’ alright? You kinda got a little ahead of yourself.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. I have the worst head ache of all time.” Your head is in your hands and your hair looks ten times more disheveled than it did when you woke up. You fight the feeling of discomfort and look up at him through messy stands of hair, “What, you’re not going back to enjoy your time with out me? I wouldn’t be so offended.”

He thinks to himself for a moment,

“I was waiting for you to get up.” His arms are crossed onto his chest now. His words are so effortless when he makes your heart jump.

“Zoro, it’s gonna take me a long time to get ready, how ‘bout you just go on ahead?”

You push away the hair covering your face to get a good look at his; his expression is borderline unreadable. It looks foreign on him.

It was all-knowing, it was up to no good. And you can only imagine what that meant.

“I’ll wait.”

-

So, Zoro waited the hour and a half for you to get ready, even though it meant that most of the day was already wasted. He insisted on taking you with him to the town you guys went to only yesterday, stating that it was simply because the crew wouldn’t let him hear the end of it had you both separated. It’s funny though, because you could swear that he was moving a bit differently than he was just yesterday. Whether good or bad, it was off-putting nonetheless. You’ve never seen him act this way.

After dabbling in his fair share of store-visiting to try to tie with yours (Spoiler: he did not.), it was already sunset, and he wanted to go to the bar, but you insisted that you didn’t want a repeat of last night. In his surprising obedience, he listened. You did, however, both meet in the middle for a late night food-grab and settled on a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant. You and Zoro quickly ordered and waited for the delicious meals that you knew you both were going to absolutely demolish.

You finally relaxed your form into the seat, taking advantage of the comfort you felt after walking around all day. You hardly exchanged a few words since you got into the restaurant, presumably because of how much time you spent together all day, so it was a surprise when Zoro opened his mouth to finally speak.

“Y’know, you talk a lot when you’re drunk.”

You halt in your comfort, God, you thought he was gonna forget about this already. Zoro teased you a lot but since you got on this island, it’s easily become relentless. And whatever your shenanigans were about last night were ground for it now.

In an effort to move away from the topic, “Hmm… yeah, don’t we all? Amirite? I’ve heard you say some crazy stuff when you were black-out drunk!” You laughed, lightly slapping the table to emphasize how “funny” it was. He seemed unfazed though, if anything, a little more confident in the words he would utter. His head was resting on his on the palm of his hand now, and that same smirk from earlier returned.

“Guessing none of them were love declarations, huh?”

Time stopped, save for your heart dropping down to your asshole.

Your eyes were wide, and you were praying to God that you misinterpreted the insinuation of what he just said.

“W-What do you mean?” He seemed so fascinated by the situation unraveling between the two of you, his grin never faltering. It was shocking, Zoro never really talked this much about nonsense, if you could call it that.

He chuckles at your shock almost sadistically, “You tried kissing my face the entire night and kept telling me how handsome I was, and how much you lo—”

“STOP!” Your hand not so subtly smacks his mouth shut, and the staff gives you both a weird look.

Great, now I’m making it everyone’s business!

You slowly remove your hand and try to avert your gaze elsewhere, while still fending for yourself. “I’m j-just a loving drunk... I-I guess…” The embarrassment is getting to be too much now, and whatever what you say at this point is just going to look like a lie, a big fat lie. And you wanna crawl into the nearest hole and die there. How can you even face the crew anymore? How can you look at him in the eye? Where’s the nearest exit so you can just run far, far away from him?! It seems like you’re plotting for the rest of how your life is gonna be from this point on, until he puts an end to your thoughts.

“C’mon woman. Get real. Why don’t you just face up to it? I see the way you look at me all the time. Drunk or not.” Zoro is leaned all the way back in his chair when you look up, his arms are crossed just how they were this morning. And you just want to melt into your chair at this point. Get away from anything and every thing that exists. Especially Zoro, if it wasn’t obvious. “God, you're naive, naive as hell.”

Embarrassment subsided for a moment, you sit there with your brows furrowed, now trying to piece together his new and probably much more embarrassing revelation. “…What? Why do you say that?”

He scoffs at you, “Y’Really gonna make me say it?”

What?

Zoro was never the articulate type and you respected that, but if there was an instance where you really hated his lack of speech; It was now.

For a split second, he looks a little conflicted on what he was going to say next. Like he was fighting the next words to come out of his mouth, his arms twitch a bit and he lets out a little sigh, shaking his head in what looks like defeat. But before you can say anymore; he gets out of his comfortable position, leans toward you and over the small table, grabs your shirt and…

Kisses you.

It was short, but Zoro thought he was going to die inside trying to build up the courage to say I love you instead. And this, this was so much better.

He would’ve mistook you for a tomato across from him when you sit back from his attack on your lips. He’s a little flustered himself, he does well to mask it, but it was worth your reaction. And since it was late at night the restaurant was almost dead at that point, with you both once again, sitting in the very back. So he wasn’t too crazy about who was watching.

“I’m… I… Um…” you’re trying so hard to get your words together. What the hell just happened. “I…”

Before you can say anything, you eat your words again. The server comes with your long anticipated dinner. He chooses to disregard the absolute mess you look, and some of your lipstick on Zoro’s mouth— and puts your food down onto the table.

“Enjoy you two lovebirds! My, what a beautiful couple you both make!”

LAW TRAFALGAR

The Polar Tang was full of energy today. In the dining hall, the crew sat down and talked the night away.

Penguin and Shachi were laughing it up and finding comfort in their drinks, you and Ikkaku talked about personal affairs over the amazing meal you shared, then Bepo joined in and you three all got a little too into some dumb gossip amongst another pair in the crew.

Safe to say everyone was having the night of their life. Something the Heart Pirates couldn’t do a lot.

All except your captain.

Always buried in his books and studies, Law claims that he wish he could have time to spend with you all, blasé blasé bla, but there was always an excuse that was thrown in your faces. Always. You respected his time and effort, it was something that not a lot of people could do.

So that’s why after your conversation with your friends was drawn to an end and they either resorted to drinking with the rest of the crew or just enjoying more talk, you decided to slip away for a moment. You didn’t know what possessed you to do this, (you did, you just wanted an excuse) but you fix up another plate and swiftly make your way towards your captains room. The food was delicious so, why not? What’s the harm?

The closer you got to his door is the more an anxiety rose in your chest, and your hands were getting a little shaky. There was nothing to be nervous about!

Just maybe seeing his handsome face focused so strongly on a certain text, the way his rough, calloused hand grips the pen so gently, or your favorite part— his parted and unbuttoned shirt, where you can see a window of his chest, not a lot but just enough to leave some imagination to how the rest of his tattooed body might look... And you stop yourself for a second, physically and mentally.

I’m being such a pervert right now.

You resume your slow and anything but steady walk to his quarters and you finally meet face to face with the door.

You pull your first up to knock after taking a very deep breath, but before your skin could touch the surface his voice is already urging you to step inside. And so you obey.

Once inside you immediately start to scan the sight before you, and it wasn’t much different from the one you had in your imagination. Of course this meant that you were a bit flustered coming to him, but you manage, “‘Just wanted to drop off some food for you, in case you couldn’t join us tonight.” You say with a little softness in your tone.

“Thank you. You can put it down on my desk.”

And you obey, again. Walking up to his desk full of papers and books/ You realize that it was a little messy and not clean enough to set the plate just anywhere, and his hands scramble through the paper to find a place for you to set the plate down until you finally do. Then, another thought emerges from your fantasy world.

“Do you need help organizing your desk, cap? I have some time and I don’t really feel like going to sleep anyways.”

He smiles softly at you and calls your name in a way that you wish you could hear over and over and over again, and he thanks you once more, “You’ve done enough for me tonight. I appreciate it.” You hide your disappointment in his words, but nod and make your way to the door anyway.

You exchanged your good night’s and make your way to your room. And when you fall back on your bed, you take your pillow and scream into it like a crazed schoolgirl in love.

-

The next morning comes, and you can guarantee that the crew has already started on breakfast. You rub your eyes and start to get cleaned up and fetch a new pair of clothes for the day.

Once you’re all freshen up, you make your way to the dining hall, surprised to hear no ruffling and noise. Maybe everyone was suffering the consequences of last nights drinking challenges, you thought. But even so, it wouldn’t be this quiet.

Your met with Law’s figure in the dining hall and he’s making tea for himself. He notices you, “You’re up really early.”

“Did you even get a wink of sleep?” You say in concern.

He’s silent for a few seconds, and he makes his way to the table to enjoy his freshly brewed drink. “I couldn’t.” Or more like he wouldn't.

You sigh, yup, that was your captain. You thought for a second, thinking about what you could do in order for him to feel better about his own consequences from a lack of sleep. But you know he would just decline most of your suggestions. Instead, you plop yourself in the seat across from him. You both sit in a comfortable silence while you waited for your coffee to be made, and you take a second to scan his tired features.

He does well to hide it in his mannerism, but his face betrays him. You can tell he's deathly tired, and if he let's his eyes close for more than a second you're sure he'd plop right onto the table.

“Take a picture, maybe it’ll last longer.”

You blink, and you blink again. “O-Oh, sorry…” he’s not offended, if anything his face is smug. You’re quick to defend yourself with a little scoff, “Can’t a woman be worried for her captain? You don’t look the best anyway.” You quickly cover your mouth, seriously, how dumb did you have to be?

But he only laughs at your remark, he shakes his head and his smug expression does not leave his face. “It’s a little hard to not point out when you do it all the time.”

“I do not!”

“Do too.”

“I don’t!”

“Don’t what?” Shachi comes into the room completely oblivious to what you guys were bickering childishly about. He’s rubbing his eyes, “Why are you both up so early? Especially you,” he points at you, “You drank a lot.”

You roll your eyes, you hardly drank. And now you were a little embarrassed at his public revelation, (though it was a secret to nobody but Law,) and your face grows a little red.

The rest of the crew gets up one by one and soon enough breakfast is served. You barely pick up your head anymore out of shame of your earlier dispute, if you could even call it that, with your captain. Bepo is talking about something he encountered a while back while on an adventure with Law, usually you’d be invested, but you were far too in your zone.

And so you get up and make your way to your room, the gloominess practically radiating off of you. Your absence is barely noticed due to the focus everyone had on Bepo’s story.

Law notices, though.

He excuses himself and Bepo gets a little upset, but he understands and respects his captain, so he resumes his dramatic story that keeps everyone on the edge of their seat. You, on the other hand, were now face flat on your pillow mumbling self-deprecating comments to yourself after the terrible situation you were just in.

That was so embarrassing. My captain hates me. It’s so obvious. Why do I do this to myself. Why did I think that was okay. I’m going to escape. (You were under water) This is dumb. I’m du—

*Knock Knock*

You lift your head up even though you didn’t want to, “No.” is all you could manage.

“It’s your captain.”

As much as you wanted to tell him to piss off and let yourself drown in the shame you felt, you couldn’t. Because at the end of the day, it was as your captain proclaimed, though you wanted it to be much more, there was nothing you could do. Nothing, especially after today's consequences.

After a bit of hesitance and a lot of hurt in your voice, you tell him, “You can come inside.”

He cracks the door open a smidge to further observe your well-kept room and there you were, lying on your stomach with your arms crossed, face laying against them and your eyes away from his. It wasn’t the most appropriate sight for your captain to walk in on, but you two were close enough for him to get comfortable enough to let the door open and let himself all the way into your room.

He walks towards you and pulls a chair over, turns it around and manspreads against it to take his seat-- and you really wanted to take in the sight completely, but even that wasn’t enough to get your mood back up and running.

“You left.”

“Why do you care?” You turn your head the opposite way facing the wall beside you. Law doesn’t say anything for quite some time and you can almost bet on your tears slipping soon. He was making this so much more worse than it had to be.

He calls your name, and you just wanna melt into the soft fabric beneath you. “Look at me.”

You disobey.

After your reluctance to his order, he draws out a sigh. You always were the most stubborn of the crew. So with this, he thinks long and hard on his next words or actions, and finally lands on one possible outcome.

“You leave me no choice.”

“Wha— Law!” He turns you around by your waist and forces you up with just one hand. Then, before you know it, your body is slung across his broad shoulder while he finds his bicep tight around your thighs. You were facing backwards while he carried you. “Now you’re calling me by name, no captain anymore?" he laughs, "I think I’ve gone too soft on you.”

“What are you doing!?” You say, trying to get out of his grasp, but even with all of your strength, he was no match for you. “Someone will see!”

“No they won’t. I’m taking you to my room.” He opens the door in one swift motion and kicks it in another.

“And you’re not explaining why!” You hit his back in defiance. You were halfway through the corridor to meet his room already, so you just give up.

He takes no time in entering his room, finally putting you down and ordering you to sit on a spare seat in the grand environment. You were insanely nervous at this point, taken aback by his sudden action and the intimacy of it all. He’s peering down at you with a seriousness in his gaze that makes you put your head down in the worst shame you’ve felt since you’ve woken up.

You always thought that maybe, you might have had a chance with him one day. All that was thrown out the window now.

And it's time to swallow your pride. You take a deep breath, and build a whole lot of courage, and:

“I’m sorry, for saying that about you in the dining hall. And getting smart with you. And calling you by your first na—”

“You’re really stubborn, did you know that?”

And there it is, you feel the tears build up once again, and it hurts. Because the firmness in his voice is always the same. So demanding and... so difficult for you.

“And I don’t know why I’m attracted to you. I don’t understand why I tolerate the things you do.”

You start crying now, because you don’t know what else to do. You don’t know the sincerity of his words, and you hold yourself in the chair that you sat on, trying your best to look away from him.

He walks towards you and gets on his knees in front of you, It was a little bit of a blow to his own pride, and it wasn’t something he would do for anyone else at all. But you were different. You’re still crying and you weakly try pushing him away and looking to the side and the new guilt starts to form itself inside of him, but he insists that he stays where he is. He’s whispers an I’m sorry before his hands find solace on your jaw while both of his thumbs wipe your tears away. You look down at him with the most beautiful eyes he’s seen, your gaze softens at him and your crying calms down a little bit seeing that he wasn't so serious anymore, but instead his expression was a little desperate.

-- He’s still got a lot to make up for, and he knows now was not the time to press you on anything else— there was nothing to press anyways. You were perfect, in every aspect of the word. He just enjoyed the idea of teasing you, not anyone else, but he took it too far.

When he was sure that you were more comfortable in his arms, he pulled you down and pushed the chair away. He takes you in his embrace and whispers his apologies into your ear so genuinely.

“This wasn’t the way I thought this would go.” He lets the thousandth sigh out of his mouth today. You look into his eyes with a questioning expression, “I mean that, I fucked it up.”

It was your turn to feel guilty again, but you were tired of words.

You just take his face in your hands just as he did not so long ago, and you both look at each other for a moment. His eyes look to your lips for a second, and if you didn’t know any better you would’ve thought he was just as eager as you, maybe he was. His lips inch towards yours and they take no time in meeting.

It’s slow, soft, sensual. And it takes a while for your mouths to part. When they do, all you can do is stare at each other.

You finally breathe, “Okay,” you face turns to the side to escape his beautiful one.

“Maybe all of that was pretty worth it.”

SANJI VINSMOKE

You’ve been avoiding Sanji all week.

And he can’t decide if he should talk to you about it or not, he’s leaning more towards the latter, just because he’s too into the nervousness that suddenly appears on your face when you’re in close proximity. Then; you’re scrambling to the nearest door and half-assing an excuse about where you need to be or what you need to do.

He personally loves when it’s breakfast, lunch, or dinner and he gets to not only cook your favorite meals and you can’t escape him, otherwise the crew would immediately worry for your absence. He also enjoys how embarrassed you get when you can feel him staring at you. Alas, he can’t stand the inability to talk to you and be in your unwanted presence anymore, he needed to make his move on you quick.

You see, earlier this week a battle occurred between you, Sanji, and an enemy that threatened the Thousand Sunny.

You and Sanji had both agreed to guard the ship while the rest of the crew had prepared their own duties on the foreign land, he insisted that there would be no good food supply and there was already enough stocked up from the last. It was a no-good devil fruit user, who wielded the ability to make its opponent confess a super big secret, to then throw them off completely, and defeat them. It was like a weak spot-- psychological warfare more so. And… he got you.

Can you guess what your secret was?

For certain, the devil fruit did its magic. And Sanji was surely taken aback, but adamant on defending the ship and more importantly, you, he did his part and tried with all his might to fight the bad guy off and made a mental note to immediately come find you afterwards.

You were close to passing out from shock after the bewildering confession, but when you came to, the blonde sat right beside you in a shit-eating grin, “So… you’re crushin’ on me, princess?” And you wanted to pass out again, but instead you just run for the ship and locking yourself in your room, ignoring his pleas to come back and talk about it.

Ever since that day, the atmosphere between you two had been a bit awkward. Conversations weren't as light and smooth, you tried finishing your food as fast as possible and managing a quick thank you before making a bee line to the girls room, and most importantly— everyone took notice of how distant you got from Sanji.

Usopp fell victim to the awkward encounters more often than the rest, and it was safe to say they were getting on his last nerve now. "Whatever you did, you should apologize, man!" He pats his back as a sign of encouragement. And for a second it almost felt like you and him were a married couple having problems, it brought a smile to his face.

Not to worry, he had a plan.

-

You joined Robin in a comfortable silence below the deck, praying to the heavens you wouldn’t hear from the blonde cook while the sun set so beautifully. Your original ploy was to just act like it never happened, but anytime you saw him it was like re-imagining the entire scenario over and over again.

Your head is hanging off the chair while you doze off and Robin is reading her book— appreciating your silence, the weather was just a little windy and the sky had a nice orange and red gradient to it. The waves were crashing against the boat but it wasn’t overbearing, it was just fine.

You asked Robin to read her book out loud, even though you weren’t following the storyline, you found comfort in her melodic voice and how softly she read it and sure enough she would be lulling you to sleep soon.

But before you could finally reach sleep like you intended, there’s a presence you can sense, and Robin puts her beautiful voice to a halt. You don’t want to open your eyes but it almost seems like you have to.

And you immediately regretted it.

Above you was Sanji. “Hi.”

“Sanji!” He moves a little back from you, and you straighten your posture, wide awake. “I was just leaving actually, I have to clean the girls room! I lost a bet a while back. So… I’m gonna go do that.”

“I don’t think that bet ever happened but, I’m not entirely opposed to you doing that for us.” Robin says smugly. You loved her but the betrayal on your face spoke volumes in that moment.

You’re already defeated and you’re trying to muster up another shitty excuse, “We can’t delay this anymore than we have.” He takes your hand and you can only burn eyes at the skinship. You’re lightheaded again, just like that day you confessed.

And he drags you into the kitchen with him before you can defy him a hundred times over, he locks the door to slow down your escape, and if anyone came in on the two of you.

He finally turns around to look at you with the most frustrated expression littered all over his face.

“Why are you avoiding me?” He asks you in desperation, and you kinda wanted to slap him out of your own mixed emotions, because it was pretty obvious as to why. He catches on shortly after, “Okay, scratch that. Why is it necessarily a bad thing that you have feelings for me?”

“Please Sanji, let’s just forget about i—”

“How do I forget something like that? Why are we holding this off? Are we just never gonna talk about it?” You sense some repressed anger boiling up inside of him, and to tell the truth you’ve never seen him speak to any woman like this, so raw and nothing to hold back. “Listen, the cat’s out the bag, right? What’s the point in hiding it if we both feel this way about each other?”

…

…

…

“You… felt the same way… and you’re just now telling me this?” You walk towards him, he looks away in shame.

“It’s not about how you feel towards me, I’m just not worthy of you. I don’t deserve you.” You push him out of sheer frustration, and he just lets you.

Sanji assumes you’ll just use him as your personal punching bag at this point with the amount of self-deprecating thoughts he’s already throwing at himself in his head, but all of them were replaced once you took him by the shoulders and pulled him into a powerful kiss. He was in shock, but he quickly melted into it, grabbing you by both sides of your face, and you pull away.

“All you did was tease me and taunt me and put me over the edge these past few days, for what? Just to reveal that you wanted me too?” You scoff, but your lips betray you. You lean back into the kiss and it’s so much more passionate than before. His hands find comfort in your hips.

After the kiss got a little too passionate, and Sanji already making his move on your neck, you all but gave into him. So willingly.

“You locked the door, right?” You ask.

He grins into the quick kiss, excited by your insinuation, “Yeah.”

meanwhile, on the deck

Chopper quickly becomes your replacement for Robin, although not as quiet, she does equally enjoy her time with you both.

Choppers stomach gives him away, “Robin, I’m hungry. Do you know if Sanji’s making dinner soon?”

Robin smirks, and pats Chopper on the head.

“He’s busy with something right now, I think it would be best if we didn’t bother him, either.”

[mxrcurysb1tch]

‧₊˚ 🪐༘⋆ જ⁀➴ Astrology observations pt. 4 ‧₊˚🪐༘⋆

Finally back with another post… after a month 😃

⭑.ᐟ The way I like to think about the sun, moon and rising is this: Your moon is who you are when everything else is stripped away from you. It is how you process your emotions and it’s the filter through which you see the world. It is the baseline “you” that you revert back to when you are running on empty. The rising is who you are at your best. When you’re operating from your rising sign you are at your peak performance. It’s probably the you that feels happiest. It is also who you aspire to be in life, who you want to be seen as. The sun is the “middle piece” it’s essence floats throughout your entire chart. I think of it as a subtle influence that underlies every part of you. Whenever you do anything there is always a part of your sun inside that action, thought or decision. I also like to think that the rising sign is the way in which you express your sun. For example, if you’re a Gemini sun and a Leo rising, you will express your Gemini in a Leo way.

⭑.ᐟ Fire moons may have felt like they couldn’t express negative emotions growing up and had to always seem positive and upbeat. Now they might have problems with opening up or admitting that they even experience sadness and pain. They might be masters at putting on a front with people even when they are losing it completely inside.

⭑.ᐟ Venus dominant people/strong Venus ie, Venus in Taurus (or Libra) Venus in 1h, Venus as chart ruler. They might be preoccupied with looks, their own and that of their partner. They can be very picky when it comes to choosing someone to date, which can be a good thing but can sometimes stop them from making real deep connections with people. They need to be careful not to choose people just based on looks.

⭑.ᐟ Saturn and Venus conjunction can look like someone who is blessed with a lot of material wealth but feels like it could be taken away at any time. It could also look like someone who loves to be given princess treatment/spoiled but feels very guilty when receiving money and time from other people. Natives can also feel guilty about their own wealth and have a deep understanding that not everyone is as fortunate as they are.

⭑.ᐟ Women with Capricorn placements / prominent Saturn love getting tattoos and piercings. It’s something about the permanence of it and perhaps a little about the pain… as is Saturn’s “motto”; no pain no gain.

⭑.ᐟ Pluto in the 7h- extreme jealousy in relationships. Either you attract it or you are the jealous one. Also a lot of instability with friendships. Moving friend groups a lot, not having stable friendships or relationships throughout your life. A lot of projection onto the other person, mirroring back their behaviours. It’s not a comfortable placement to have especially if it’s in synastry too.

⭑.ᐟ Sagittarius moons are super extroverted and love being out in the world BUT they also really love spending time in their rooms. Maybe this is bc the 2 sag moons that I know both have earth suns but I’ve noticed that they spend a lot of time in their rooms gaming and hiding away.

⭑.ᐟ Nobody talks enough about how funny Aquarius placements are, especially moon and sun. In my experience they are the best at coming up with hilarious inside jokes.

⭑.ᐟ People with planets in the 1h (especially if it’s the sun or moon or a stellium) are so genuine and you can tell they are not hiding who they truly are, they just couldn’t if they tried. They have a kind of congruency to who they are, and not as many layers to peel back (this does not mean that they aren’t complex people, just that they are real!) what you see is what you get! Also they really tend to embody the planets that are within this house. For example, my friend is a cancer rising with her mercury in there. I always thought she was a Gemini rising because she talks so much, even more than me as a Gemini rising LOL and she’s very analytical, but she just has a 1h mercury!

[phoenixyfriend]

Okay so we have like. An unusually high ratio of royalty/nobility among the Jedi. Dooku, Quinlan, Oppo, you can sort of count Adi or Xanatos or Bruck, etc. Lots of Jedi 'just happen' to come from royal, noble, or incredibly wealthy/powerful families.

So from this I want to posit four things:

If a royal family has a Force-Sensitive child, and hasn't had one in generations, they may think that sending that child to the Jedi would be a little like sending a child to join the Catholic Church in the middle ages: you get to influence the political choices of the highest religious power in Europe the Galactic Republic Government. (That said, Dooku was sent to the Jedi because his parents didn't want him and ||left him to die of exposure, basically, so that if the Jedi arrived too late they'd be picking up a baby corpse|| because they were so disdainful of Force-Sensitive individuals, and Quinlan wasn't sent to the Jedi so much as he escaped to them.)

They are all incredibly wrong about this, and royals raised as Jedi generally do not give any more of a shit about their home planets than any other planet. They care, of course, but they are not attached, because they are Jedi. Xanatos was an exception (afaik his dad sent him to the Jedi because he wanted to do the Catholic thing? and then Xanatos lost his mind). (Don't correct me on this, it's not really important if it was actually intended or not.)

This is achieved by way of Jedi from royal backgrounds having a mandatory high-level political class on how to handle royal court politics and general intrigue. It's not exclusive to the royal kids, but it is a prerequisite for them. They usually end up doing their home planets as case studies for capstone projects, in part because

Sometimes the planets try to call their errant royals back. It might be because the planet is struggling and genuinely running out of heirs/needs a change in leadership (Serreno) and it might be because it was the plan all along, but on the off chance that the Jedi decides they HAVE to leave the Order and take up a throne to keep an entire planet from kind of imploding on itself... that royal Jedi has to be ready to play the game. OR if they don't actually think they're REALLY needed there, they have to be trained on how to go, and be polite/avoid getting trapped/play the game until they can get the hell out of there, while also installing that cousin that nobody thought was strong enough but DOES understand how to run the treasury as the new king.

I'm just imagining this like. Very specific set of classes that are open to any Jedi that's taken the necessary prereqs, but is mandatory for people like Quinlan and Dooku and Oppo.

This was inspired by a post of mine that's getting circulated regarding QuinObi stuff and my thoughts about how Quinlan might have needed preventative training in case of political upheavals trying to pull him back to his home planet. I want to mess with the Politics Classes that Quinlan is taking because he has to and Obi-Wan is taking because Qui-Gon said he should.

Qui-Gon: You should take this class because I'm training you up as a negotiator and diplomat, and you will need it to interact with people when brokering trade deals or peace treaties. Tholme: You are taking this class because your aunt is insane and you have to be ready in case she tries to pull you back into the bullshit.

And as @firebirdeternal offered:

Quinlan: God this is the worst. So boring. At least Obi-Wan is stuck here too. Obi-wan: This is fascinating wow, I can't believe I almost didn't get to attend, Quinlan is so lucky he's automatically in these classes.

[blueberrisdove-sideblog]

soft dom phainon would heal all my pain and suffering 😮‍💨

ᕱ⑅ᕱ Warnings : nsfw/smut, p*ssy eating, shy fem!reader, daddy kink, reader is whiny asf, belly bulge, big dick Phainon, cream-pie, vaginal, doggy style, size kink, cocky phainon. ^_^

“Babyyy you feel sooo good…” Phainon moaned out loud, gripping on your hips. While thrusting his cock in you. His big length kissing your cervix.

Phainon's voice was steady, filled with quiet confidence. "Breathe for me, sweetheart," he murmured, his hand resting on your lower belly. The pressure was there, gentle but firm, as though he were grounding you. His presence surrounded you, warm and commanding, a mixture of affection and control.

"Good girl," he praised, his thumb tracing small circles on your skin as he adiusted his position, ensuring you were comfortable even while stretched by his presence. "You're taking this so well. I knew you could handle it"

Your breath hitched, body trembling under his touch. "D-Daddy," you whispered, your voice small and needy. The way his hands were on you, how they made you feel both safe and overwhelmed, left you unable to form coherent thoughts. "… I don't know if I can take more.”

Phainon's eyes softened, though there was still that quiet dominance in his gaze. "You're doing perfect, baby," he reassured, his voice gentle as he ran his fingers lightly over your belly, feeling the subtle shift beneath his hand. "You're stretchin’ for me, so beautifully. Don't worry. I won't push you too far.”

You could feel the way he filled you, how deep it went, and the pressure building in your stomach. There was a slight bulge now, an unmistakable reminder of how much he had given you, how much he was demanding.

But it wasn't uncomfortable—it was a strange, fulfilling sensation. Your body responded to him, each shift pulling you closer to the edge.

"You feel so perfect for me," Phainon whispered, his lips grazing your ear. "Yer mine, and I'm going to take care of you. Yeah? I won't let you break, but you have to trust me, okay?"

Phainon's gaze softened slightly, even with that cocky grin still playing on his lips. "Yer so good for me, baby," he murmured, his hands steady on your hips. "I can feel it—your body's beggin' for more." He shifted his weight, adjusting his position to add even more pressure, his voice dropping lower. "But don't worry, 'm gonna make sure you can take it. Just trust me."

You whimpered softly, a mix of frustration and pleasure rising in your chest as he moved with such control. Your breath quickened, your body responding to him without question. "I... I trust you," you managed to say, voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled at that, the cocky edge to his demeanor still there, but there was something deeper in his eyes now-something almost tender. "Good girl, he praised, the words sending a wave of warmth through you. "You're doin' great. Keep goin', just like that."

You could feel the pressure in your tummy, the fullness of him making everything seem so intense, yet somehow, it felt right. He moved with slow, steady thrusts, making sure you felt every inch of him. The way your body shifted with each movement made it impossible to think of anything else—just him, just the way he made you feel.

Phainon's hand slid down to your belly again, his fingers pressing lightly on the bulge that formed there. "Your so beautiful like this," he murmured. "Look at you, all stretched out for me. Ain't nobody else gonna get to see you like this. Just me"

His words lingered in your mind, your body responding with a mix of desire and something deeper-something rooted in trust, in the bond that was growing between you two. Even though the pressure was nearly overwhelming, there was no fear, only a quiet anticipation for whatever Phainon had in store next.

[larluce]

Ok, to celebrate the Merlin is trend yet again. I'll share a Merthur prompt that occured to me yesterday.

I've read a couple of fics where Merlin is deaf, like he was born deaf or lost his hearing at a very young age, which leads to Arthur learning sign language to be able to comunicate with him. I love this concept, mostly cause I'm a big fan of sign language I think it's beautiful.

But what if Arthur was the deaf one and not Merlin?

Think about it. Royalty wasn't allowed to be nothing but perfect. Left handed princes were forced to learn to write with their right hand, because that was consider "defective". Now imagine having a dishability! It was disastrous!

I imagine Uther forcing Arthur to learn how to read lips and talk with a normal voice so nobody knows he's deaf. The King makes almost a requirement that people must be infront of the prince when they talk to him and never talk to him when his back is turned, saying this is to show their respect properly. Also Uther makes Arthur only speak with other people when strictly necessary. This, of course, makes Arthur feel miserable and lonely.

Years go by and Merlin arrives in Camelot. Their first meeting and later confrontation on the street happens mostly the same, just adding Merlin constantly turning his back on Arthur, despite Arthur telling him to speak to him to his face (this annoys Arthur particularly for obvious reasons).

Then Merlin saves his life, but this time Arthur isn't affected by lady Helen singing because he can't hear her. And he is way more observant thanks to his lack of hearing, so he clearly notices Merlin was in the other side of the room one second and next to him in the next when Merlin pulls him away of the direction of the knife.

So when Uther is about to reward Merlin, Arthur says just that.

Arthur: How is that you came here in time? You were on the other side of the room! Weren't you affected by the echantament?

Merlin: (nervous) I... Well...

Uther: (suspicious) Couldn't it be you are an ally of this witch boy?

Gaius: (to Merlin's rescue) Is not that, my lord. Merlin could safe the prince in time because he couldn't be affected by the singing at all. He's deaf.

This is a lie, Merlin is not deaf, but his mother is. Gaius is saying this just to save him and Merlin gets it inmediatly so he plays along.

Uther: (to Merlin) Is this true?

Merlin: (speaks in a "deaf voice" as he signs at the same time) Yes, your majesty.

Uther: I see...

Arthur: (looks what Merlin did with his hands with curiosity)

Uther: Well, as I was saying. Your act today merits something quite especial. From now on you'll be the Prince's manservant!

Later. When Arthur and Merlin are alone in Arthur's chambers.

Arthur: How did you do it?

Merlin: What?

Arthur: Get to me in time.

Merlin: Gaius explained. I'm deaf.

Arthur: Is not just that you didn't hear the singing. You were too far!

Merlin: I run fast.

Arthur: That's not true! I didn't see you running, you just appeared at my side.

Merlin: Well, how could you know? You were asleep, weren't you?

Arthur: (thinking) Fuck... (Says) You're right...It just... seemed like it because I fell asleep. (Sits on his desk and starts reading some scrolls) You are not needed now. Leave.

Merlin: (puts himself on Arthur's line of vision) I know... about you.

Arthur: (nervous) I don't know what you mean.

Merlin: You are deaf (makes the sign of "deaf")

Arthur: (laughs) I'm not.

Merlin: You weren't affected by the singing.

Arthur: That's not true. (Thinking) I was careful to pretend to fall asleep like the others.

Merlin: I also called you ungrateful royal ass when we were heading here and you had your back turned at me like ten times and you never once answered.

Arthur: ...

Merlin: I must say your speaking voice is quite impressive-

Arthur: (stands up abruptly and points at Merlin's throat with his sword)

Merlin: (lifts his hands) Wow! This is what I get for saving your life? A very ungrateful ass indeed.

Arthur: (afraid he's secret will come out) I will kill you right there.

Merlin: There's no need for this! I won't tell anyone!

Arthur: (more panic mode) Nobody can't know! If you dare to say something-

Merlin: (shouts) I HAVE MAGIC!

Arthur: ...

Arthur: (thinking maybe he didn't read Merlin's lips correctly) What?

Merlin: I have magic. That's why I wasn't affected by the singing and that's how I got to you in time. I also dropped the chandelier on her. I used magic. See? Now you know a secret of mine that could get me killed. So I'm not going to give you away

Arthur: (puts down his sword slowly) So... you are not really deaf? (Kind of dissapointed cause he though he finally find a person like him that could understand him)

Merlin: (surprised Arthur puts more attention to this fact than the fact that he is a sorcerer) No, but my mom is. That's partly how I figured you out. You remind me of her.

Arthur: (remembering the sign language) You did something with your hands before, while speaking.

Merlin: Oh, that's a language my mother tought me to be able to comunicate with her better 😊! We have a hand gesture for every letter, a, b, c, d, e (shows the sign as he mentions the letters) And also a sign for every word like table, run, angry, prince (does the last sign pointing at Arthur) It's easier for her like this. I know reading lips is exhausting. I translated her what other people were saying most of the time.

Arthur: (gets a bittersweet feeling, thinking on how this woman wasn't force to fit the standar and rather her son adapted himself to her needs) That's really nice. You are a good son. (smiles but it doesn't reach his eyes). I won't tell anybody about you either. You don't have to worry.

Merlin: (relieved, but also notices his sadness) I could teach you if you like. My mom's language.

Arthur: (shakes his head) I can't be seen learning a deaf language.

Merlin: They don't have to know is for you. As far as everyone knows I'm the one who is deaf, remember? You can tell them you're learning it for me so you can comunicate with your deaf servant better.

Arthur: And would they buy it?

Merlin: I mean you are not precisly known for being kind to your servants, but it's worth a try. What do you say?

Arthur: (smiles genuinely this time) I would like to.

So Merlin teaches Arthur the language and his life gets better from then on. Merlin is always with Arthur in every meeting or interaction with other nobels and translates him what he didn't catch. It becomes a common occurrence seeing the prince and his servant comunicating in this particular way in the halls. Then Morgana (one of the few that knew about Arthur's secret) and Gwen start learning it too, bringing even more attention from outside view.

Then Uther, angry cause he thinks this could lead to Arthur's secret been revealed, tries to send Merlin away. Arthur argues with him for that of course, sometimes signing furiosly as he speaks.

Uther: Stop making those hand movements for godsake! You look like a retarded!

Arthur: (doesn't speak and signs furiously instead) Oh, you don't like when I sign? Well look!

Uther: What was that? Speak.

Arthur: (signs) It doesn't feel good not understanding what someone says, does it?

Uther: I said speak!

Arthur: (shouts) I said it doesn't feel good when you don't understand what someone says, does it?! To have make an extrordinary effort to just get a word right everytime someone as much as opens their mouth!

Uther: ...

Uther: Arthur-

Arthur: I finally found a way to comprehend better the world around me thanks to Merlin. And instead of seing it as an opportunity, you want to take that away from me!

Uther: You were fine before.

Arthur: I wasn't!

Uther: Well, you won't die because you can't do some hand gestures. This is stopping. Now!

Arthur: (takes a deep breath) Alright, I won't do it ever again. But let Merlin stay. (Begs) Please.

Uther: The boy can stay.

Arthur: (with gritted teeth) Thank you, father. (Bows and leaves)

Morgana: (enters the room having heard the whole conversation from outside) You must know this will kill him.

Uther: He's just being dramatic. It'll pass.

Morgana: My lord, you never once wondered... why Arthur didn't move?

Uther: What?

Morgana: When the blade of that witch was flying at him.

Uther: He was enchanted.

Morgana: He wasn't. He can't hear, the voice of Lady Helen couldn't reach him. So why didn't he move when he was completely aware and he had more than enough time to evade it?

Uther: ...

Morgana: Think about it, my lord. (Leaves)

Sometime later. After seeing his son doing his duties depressed, contrasting with how joyful he had been the last months, Uther decides to call Merlin to his chambers.

Merlin: Did you call for me, Sire?

Uther: What are those hand gestures you do that my son seems so obsessed with?

Merlin: My mom calls it "sign language", Sire.

Uther: So it is an actual language.

Merlin: Yes, there is a "hand gesture" for every letter and word.

Uther: (pauses) Could you... Teach it to me?

Merlin: (smiles brightly) Of course, Sire.

So Uther lets Arthur keep signing. One day he surprises him signing back and Arthur almost cries right there.

As time passes. More people learn to sign, first the knights so they can interact in silence during a mission (an idea proposed by Arthur). Then, since the King , the Prince and the King's ward interact like this constantly, it gains popularity as a "language of royals" so nobel families start using it too. Merlin teaches to sign to some of Gaius' pacients who have deaf relatives which leads to the language to spread to the lower town.

And about a decade later sign language is basically the official second language in Camelot.

That's all I got for now. I don't know how merthur would get together in this AU or how events of the series would unfold with this change like Nimueh or Morgause intervation. If you had any ideas, share it in the comments or reblogs. I'll be reading you ;)

[charlie-ver]

Hey, you, the trans man reading this - I love you. I know there's posts like this, but I got down a bad rabbit hole last night and I think there's not enough nice posts towards trans men (:

I don't care if you've finished you transition, on won't be ever able to reach the changes you would like. I don't care if you've been on T for years, or just started, or won't be for some years, or can't or don't want to be. I do not care how you dress. I don't care if you want to be pregnant and have children one day. I don't care if you want hysterectomy and don't even want to freeze your eggs (Hell knows I am not freezing anything). I do not care if you want bottom surgery or if you love what you were born with. Because it doesn't matter and doesn't take away from your identity.

Gay trans men? You aren't just confused straight girls. You are valid in your gender AND sexuality. Straight trans men? You aren't a betrayal the moment you are no longer misgendered. You're still welcome in lgbtqia+ spaces. Because you're a part of our community. One does not lose their place the moment they are perceived and cis or cishet.

Cis men have heard it before, but they won't admit it. All this "if you like x you must be a girl" really just feels like repackaged "if you like x you must be gay". Wanna hear a secret?

HOBBIES, JOBS AND FAVORITE THINGS DO NOT HAVE GENDER.

I like botanical gardens. I love plants. I like looking at clothing, room decor, fabric stores sometimes catch my eye. Because I am am artist, and I take inspiration from these and many more things. Plant care and gardening is not a "red flag" for a trans man in my humble and trans opinion, but it's a sign that you have love to give. And that's beautiful. Just like liking these things does not indicate that a man is gay, it does not mean that your internal identity is any different.

Do not let the world put rails on your patch to your own masculinity. And if you have to hide, that's okay. If you can only be yourself online, that's okay. Trans people will always be here. Trans men will always be here. The best thing you can do is to live as safely as you can. I know this can come off as condescending from a European who has nothing to fear personally, except violence for one month in the year, because my way of being trans isn't "obvious", but I try to take it that my safety means I can try to reassure the rest of you, while you can just focus on your own misery and don't have to be strong for anyone but yourself.

If you need a safe place to went, come to my asks. If you don't want me to post them and just read them, that's ok. You can be angry, you can vent, you can cry, do whatever you need, but, obviously, no transphobia or anything (: Special love goes out to trans men who are of the aroace spectrum, because honestly, the aroace discourse never seems to die, it's just dismissed. Reminds me of something. Hm (: I wonder.

Anyhow. Come to me to cry, for a virtual hug, for a distraction, if you'd like. Feel free to ask for art. Want me to draw your trans characters with flags? I can do that, for free, for you. Ask or dm is enough (: Art and listening is the best I can do, but I'll do my best to do it well.

I love you. You deserve to live, you deserve to be happy, and you also are wholly entitled to cry, to complain, to be sad, angry, loud, afraid. You are a human being with emotions, you deserve to feel them. Nobody can tell you what your internal identity, what your gender is. Because nobody else can know that. Only you can.

So let me repeat: It does not matter how you dress, whether you are on T, whether you want surgeries or love your body as is, whether you are skinny, fat, or muscular, what accessories and clothes you wear, how your voice sounds, how you act, how you carry yourself and what you like. The only thing that matters is how you feel. And while we're at it, yes, you may change your mind, but it still doesn't invalidate your identity in the moment. There was a time where I thought I was biromantic, but I dropped that because I wasn't, and nobody gave me shit for it. Because nobody should. Whatever you feel right now? Valid. Do you identify at a trans man but don't use he/him? Valid. Do you identify with more genders? Are you maybe a man only sometimes? Or are you more at the same time? All of that is valid, if you feel like a man in some aspect or on some part, you are one, if that's a label you want. If your gender makes more sense as a man, then yeah, you are one. Nothing else but how you feel matters.

I love you, and again, I'm here for you if you need that. I can only listen and draw a little something for you, but maybe that's enough for some. If it can help a bit, I can do it for you.

Anyone derailing this post will be blocked. I have no patience for derailers.

[angelart67]

OK... So I don't have Instagram, which is probably because it is META owned & if I gave up my FakeBook, it makes no sense why I would just jump to another platform owned by the same entity... YES, I DO KNOW THAT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS... Only wrote it cause this makes me wish I could ONLY SEE the stuff that is WORTH IT on those platforms... LIKE THIS... Soooooo, that said, THANK GOD, you posted this on Tumblr as well... TY TY TY TY TY

MANY more ppl need to see n read this. BECAUSE, whatever rights or options or do-overs you think you have due you, this fact is MEDICALLY PROVEN...

Abortion STOPS A BEATING 💓🙏💔😇PLEASE don't murder God's Miracles...

OH WAIT... Before someone out there goes off on me because they just ASSume I have no stake in this, don't know what I'm talking about, or think I'm trying to kidnap their uterus... LISTEN UP... PLEASE, & I am NOT calling anyone out of their name, so let's see if we can possibly just stay on track with facts, for once, & not behave like bullies...

I do TY in advance for that...

I gave birth to 4 children, 2 were full term, 1 was "overbaked" family funny there, & 1 was extremely premature (especially for it being the 80's when they knew far less about premature infants) I also have suffered thru multiple miscarriages, & yep BIG DIFF between that happening to a woman & calling for an appt to end things on purpose... Every miscarriage I went thru made ME feel the same way I'd have felt, had I lost any of my living children (like stillbirth), they were ALL DEVASTATING LOSSES... Of my 4 who were born & lived, they are on this earth because my mama raised me to believe, once I am pregnant, planned OR unplanned, it is (in my heart & belief system) God's will, God's miracle, God's choice & MY DUTY... I don't wish to get into ANY debate with ANYONE over religion. Please NOOOO I've still not recovered from my recent political trauma, so have some mercy... So there I was in 4 different situations, at various times between 17 & 30 years old, in my doctors office, being given the news... This part pretty much kills me emotionally, because if only you could step into MY BELIEF SYSTEM for one little minute, please try, IF you were brought up that way, & fully believed that, to have a medical doctor (well 4 actually) not SUGGEST, but almost INSIST you go kill your unborn child you just found out about !!!!!

See... I happened to be born with a rare congenital disorder, which can transfer from mama to baby, BUT rather than even ASK ME about any CHOICE I might want to make, they was ready to pack me off to what I CONSIDER paid killers... If they had bothered to ask me, I could easily have shared that I believe in God, that for whatever reason, (I cannot know in this lifetime) allowed me to be born with this congenital disorder... so MY MIND & HEART reasons this way... out of my mom's 4 kids, only me & 1 brother had/have it, other brother & sister, nary a sign, just fine... Now God allowed me to have it, BUT HE also allowed me to get pregnant with my child... can't you just suppose (pretend again if you must) but if this ALL KNOWING GREATER POWER, I call God allowed BOTH of those occurrences to take place, MAYBE it was so I NEEDED to place my faith in Him? That is what was required, that is what was in my prayers, "Please Father God, just take care of my baby & help me be strong, whatever Your will." When I was a little kiddo, by the way, there was no medical test for my congenital disorder... back then, you got diagnosed by certain characteristics of the anatomy, having to do with skeletal system, cardiac system, vision, & muscular systems. So that is how my brother & I were diagnosed... nobody knows before my dear mom who else may have had it, because really nothing was specifically known 2 generations prior... Yes, my mom died when I was 17, as a direct result of this condition, in fact it was literally ONE WEEK before I discovered I was pregnant, so think again (as me) I am a teenager, just lost my mom last week, then found out I am pregnant, & a medical doctor (who knew those facts by the way) is suggesting I go murder what became my beautiful daughter, not to mention the mama of my ONLY grandchild... My daughter became my shining beam of sunlight & life, thru the death of my mom, helping me have good reason to get thru some of the most difficult days of loss I ever felt... So, anyone out there wanna clue me in about MY CHOICE... Well, that's OK, I only had ONE choice because my Bible instructs me, "Thou shalt not kill", & I assure you there is no clause or addendum attached to that COMMANDMENT that says

A. Unless this is inconvenient for you... B. Unless you have no faith in Me to care... C. Unless you are concerned about money...

Naaaaa... no such deals, not for me, & not for billions of other people raised with similar beliefs, in a menagerie of various religious belief systems... so is it that hard to believe that while there are SOME OUT THERE, I'm sure who simply don't believe in God, but are ONLY bent on stealing your RIGHTS... Don't you think there's a LOT who simply feel it is our God given duty to try & stop what we view as one of the worst crimes against humanity? Is it possible? Cause I'm nice, I swear, I'm not out to get anyone... but when I've spent 30 odd years working in the health industry, & I am so beyond aware of the medical facts, & ALL OF THEM in my eyes, PROVE LIFE FROM CONCEPTION but when I first learned about things like "partial birth abortion" I am HORRIFIED !!! & no, I'm not just saying everyone is going to carry almost to term, or to term in some instances, & then grab the long surgical scissors, (I mean the BRAIN SCRAMBLER) & by the way, that IS DEFINATELY NOT why we are born with a soft spot... but to me, if it's 6 weeks, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, months, no matter, it is the KILLING of a human who is completely unable to defend itself, NOBODY is giving these kids a choice, they call em slimeblobs, to be able to live with it IMO...

I've been there, I HAVE lived it, 1 of my 4 was (possibly) the result of rape, because that happened to me, just around the time I got pregnant... we just did not know until after birth when it could be proven one way or the other, & yes, THANK GOD she ultimately wasn't the rapists child, but I promise you as God is my witness, had I known THEN, like I wasn't in my relationship, so I KNEW... I still could never have ended her life... medical facts DO PROVE life begins at conception, the medical field simply use various terms, to show what point things are at, so even if embryo or fetus sounds like blob to you, it's not, not at all, & if you only be selfless for a little while, my point is beyond proven... NOTHING that isn't alive has a heartbeat or organs forming more each day, & the scientific list goes on...

My brother, who was also born with my same congenital issues, passed away in his early 40s as a direct result of the condition... so does that mean he had nothing to offer this world in his 4 decades? Nowadays, they developed a blood test that gives a definitive yes/no answer about what I live with. There is no more figuring it out from aspects of your anatomy... I've now surpassed the age my brother & mother passed away at, about to be 58 in the spring... I don't know how or why my Father in heaven has kept me going this long, I assure you, I am far from healthy, but I like to think I contributed a LOT of good, in my time here, & I'm blessed my mom didn't just think, "Aww screw it, she might be born all messed up." & do me in... Had that happened, this world would also be (probably) without any of my 3 siblings, their children, grandchildren & and great-grandchildren, without my 4, & without my grandson... & By the way, my kids had the blood test that now exists, NONE of them have it... so I'd have also murdered them pointlessly, had I listened to the doctors...

I'm done, I pray I made an impact with SOMEBODY SOMEWHERE, I pray I at least make others think & reason things through...

God Bless & Keep You, & may He protect those who can't protect themselves, 🙏😇

[drgnflyteabox]

☄︎₊˚˖ fusion vs. fission [1]

series masterlist | simon riley x fem!reader part two -> cosmic dance

> summary: simon learns something crucial. or, simon wants a better life for you. he's willing to do anything to get there. > tags/warnings: murder / violence / death, illness, unplanned pregnancy, poor working conditions, mining, feelings of hopelessness / numbness, hurt/comfort, softdark!simon, scifi, inspired by Alien Romulus, made up science, ambiguous shady deals

Down in the dark and the deep, the air is muggy and teeming with floating particles of dust. They stick to Simon from the damp that builds on his skin, fighting to get through his respirator with each breath.

He’d cut a man for it, watched him leak slowly into a dark offshoot of the mine. Saw the whites of his eyes shine in the lamplight for a brief, terrified moment before going dull.

Nobody had said anything about the missing man. Not the first day, nor the next.

Eventually, it passed like a ship in the sky.

The respirators were luxuries. Simon had watched his own father’s lungs go black from the work, watched him grow small and weak.

Ultimately, it was the sickness that got him. Wasn’t the endless fantasies of violence Simon had replayed in his head since childhood of revenge. 

Just a slow, bleak sickness.

He refuses to let that take him, not while you’re waiting for him to come back.

He leaves the mine, now, crammed into the shaft with his fellow workers in labour. Some have respirators, like him.

Most do not.

The mine shaft creaks, stutters, then dings at the top.

Headlamp, pick, chisel, they all go in a canvas bag, which he straps to his back. Heavy, but not terrible. He only feels it because he’s been worse for wear lately, feeling the effects of hard labour more and more as the years go by.

Still, Simon is better off than some. They walk painfully slowly in and out of their work bunkies, living close to the mines so that they might still work – might still produce labour.

Sick, is what it is. Inhuman.

He can’t bring himself to care, not really, not if he’s being honest. To acknowledge anything but you is to acknowledge how hopeless it all is.

He knows it's bad.

Must be, the way he only feels alive when he opens the door to your shitty little trailer and finally, finally breathes .

You’re asleep, though you must've tried to stay up for him, sweet as you are, and passed out waiting on the couch.

His steps are as quiet as can be as he steps through the threshold of the door, closing it behind him with a rickety sound.

Then he stops. Stares. You’re curled, knees tucked, an old blanket covering you from the shoulders.

Your cheek is pressed to your hand, neck bent, breaths deep.

He thinks you’re beautiful. Knows that you aren’t used to being called that, not when he’d first met you and not now.

But still, he tells you. Loves to watch you scrunch your nose at him and tell him you’re beautiful too, Si .

Part of it is the ultimate rejection of softness, the inability to accept good things in a world demanding that you stay numb to it lest you be burned by getting comfortable.

You complain often about that – about how he’s letting you get comfortable . Lazy, you call it, since he’s stopped letting you go to work.

I worked before I met you, Si , you always say. Doesn’t matter, he’s got you waiting safely at home now.

Bored, maybe, but not lazy. 

Simon has always tried to bring back books or precious commodities from the trade markets like yarn. Things to do. Knows you like to use your hands.

Anything but the mines. He’ll never let you work there again.

Your breath changes when he sits beside you, his weight dipping the worn couch cushion and dragging you just a little closer.

“Told ya not to wait up for me,” he grumbles as your eyes flutter open. Sleepy little cat.

“Wanted to,” you murmur back, though your words jumble and slur a little, half-awake and already leaning towards him like you’re being pulled gravitationally.

“Mm, my sweet girl,” he cups the back of your head, kissing your hair, smelling you.

You’re one of the very few people who smell clean to him. Neutral. Like laundry soap, mostly, and maybe a little bit like the hot bread they serve at breakfast.

A lot of it is just you, though. He likes your natural scent.

Your nose finds his collar, like usual, and you smell him back. He knows he likely smells of soot, of sweat and the minerals they mine on this planet.

You never care. You like how he smells, too, enough to tell him all the time. 

It’s bliss, for a moment. Contentment. He closes his eyes and forgets the haggard faces of his fellow labourers.

Forgets the inequality of it all. Forgets the ads that he walks by that promise a trip on a fancy ship to a better planet if he just worked hard enough.

They’re the only clean thing on the streets, the only things that get wiped and shined on the regular.

He shakes his head, forgets the suffering of the world, and especially of this godforsaken planet.

Then you tense.

He’s attuned to you, can tell when the atmosphere changes. 

When there’s something wrong.

His hands find your face, cradling you, thumbs at your cheeks, “what is it?” he says, brows drawn.

“I have something to tell you,” you say, and his world narrows to a pinpoint.

Simon, sit… we have something to tell you, his mother tells him, before he learns Tommy’s hooked on something bad and he’s barely hanging on.

We’ve got something to tell you, the peace officers broach without a lick of humanity when he learns his family has been killed – a mine explosion had collapsed their trailer into a sinkhole.

So his breath changes. His shoulders tense. He trusts you completely, wholly, in every way, but he’s launched into the void of space by your words and braces for impact.

Only you begin to cry. Hot, globulous tears fall down your cheeks, falling onto his wrists.

They burn worse than hot coal. Hurt worse.

“Sh, you’re alright now,” he soothes. His thumbs brush away as many tears as he can catch, “come on, don’t cry. Tell me what's wrong.”

“I don’t know how this happened,” you hiccough, trying to move your head away from him. He doesn’t let you, holding you in place and letting the stuttering of your breathing resolve itself.

“How what happened, honey?”

“Simon,” – not Si. He braces – “I’m pregnant.”

It starts to rain halfway there. The rain here is different from other planet systems – it makes the air thick with a viscous humidity, coloured with a strange glowing blue.

If he’s to believe the quackjob down the street from him, it’s apparently because this planet is rife with bioluminescent phytoplankton.

I thought plankton were from the water, silly, Tommy says in his memory. I just seen it. He’s four, then, and mostly immune to the suffering he will soon know. 

Simon had been reading to him from a shitty copy of Science for Kids! One leftover from old earth.

This is a special kind, the quackjob had told him. If I could just get a book about it, I could tell you the name … but it’s like phytoplankton!

Simon shakes his head. His mind hasn’t wandered like that in ages.

It’ll be alright, honey, he’d held you there, on the couch, mind miles away. I’ll take care of you, don’t I always? 

He tries to, at least. Has made a hundred promises about your safety, your happiness. Ones he shouldn’t have made, in hindsight, but he’s made them and he intends to fulfil them.

The bar is sparsely populated, likely due to the thick fog of rain.

Price is always there, though. 

It’d be a real sign of impending doom if he weren’t.

There, in the back. Beside him, another man Simon doesn’t know.

What he does know is that Price doesn’t work the mines. Doesn’t have to. The peace officers leave him be, too, because he’s known for making them disappear should they cause any trouble.

“Price,” Simon says gruffly. He’s not putting it on because he doesn’t have to. Naturally big and imposing, he gets the message across.

“Take a seat,” Price says.

He doesn’t make the mistake of thinking he and Price are friendly, but he does know that Price has a sprout of respect for him – it’s up to him to make it grow. To prove himself.

This is the only way for him to take care of you, now.

A deal is made.

The man’s name is Nik, and he’s a pilot. Rare thing on this planet, rarer still that he’s open to business from a man like Simon.

He wants out, and Nik has the means.

Price is included because he needs an extra man on a job, and the history between them lends for a tremulous kind of trust.

A pact built on the fact that each of them are not normal men, not normal workers. They’ve tasted violence, used it, and aren’t afraid to take their gloves off to get a job done.

When he learns of what the mine operator has done to you, he doesn’t immediately act. No, he waits. 

Simon is used to the shadows, to hiding. Used to patience.

He watched his father die, after all, didn’t act even after all that man did to him. Saw him turn to nothing before his eyes.

So he waits for the operator. Finds out his schedule.

You’d been left in the mine for hours. A support had fallen, trapping you and three others behind it. Oxygen grew sparse. No food, no light.

The operator could’ve had a recovery team there within minutes of hearing the news.

Too expensive, he’d said, and sent common miners to dig at the rubble for hours.

That, he could not forgive. Not after seeing your face, tear tracks cutting through the soot, lungs crackling for days afterwards.

Your growing fear of the dark, and of small spaces. Of being enclosed.

No, Simon could not forgive that.

That’s where Price finds him; with blood soaked into his sleeves, knuckles busted, face covered with a mask.

“Looks like you did my job for me.”

Everything comes together, brick by brick, line by line. He agrees to worse things than killing a man for his respirator, but he does it thinking of you and feels nothing for it but satisfaction and peace.

“You sure about this?” Price asks, sipping his drink. Expensive anywhere, a downright luxury here. Speaks to not only his power but his mobility.

Nobody gets off the planet, let alone does it regularly. Nobody but Price – and Nik, Simon thinks.

“I’m sure,” Simon says succinctly. He is, and has never been surer about anything else. There are no boundaries he won’t break for you, nothing he won’t agree to get you out of this hellhole.

Everything’s being expedited now, thanks to the little life growing inside you.

He can’t afford to waste any more time.

You’re still asleep where he left you when he gets back. On the bed this time, covered in a mound of knit blankets.

Your brow is furrowed, even asleep, body curled protectively.

Fuck, that makes his heart squeeze in his chest. Fear, uncertainty, inadequacy. Everything runs through him at one like a herd of wild horses, trampling the earth in their wake.

He crawls in with you, in front of you, staring at your sleeping face. You’re so beautiful, he thinks again.

His knuckles find your cheek, gently touching, eyes dipping down to the curve of your body beneath the blankets.

“S’gonna be alright, sweet girl,” he murmurs, “I’ve got it covered.”

[kookochan]

Trust

You don't know why you feel this way towards him. Neither does he know. Maybe you need some time, maybe you need to spill some secrets.

Summary: What if Jungkook, the boy who does everything to annoy you, finds out some of your secrets? +18

student Jungkook x fem! student reader

(Private University & rich families)

warnings/content: cigarettes, use of drug (weed), sexual content (unprotected sex - do not, oral fem rec.,), violence (mentions of beating up someone), mentions of blood, family issues, alcohol

wc: 5,3K

༊*·˚

You're sitting on a bench in the middle of the park. Watching the moon and smoking a cigarette. The silence feels heavy, your thoughts going wild. You feel warm although it's freezing outside. Your grandmother's voice in the back of your head. 

"With every day that passes, you look more like your mother."

"She was a bitch who only wanted the money of my son."

"You wonder why I don't like you, but did you ever think about the fact that your own mother left you?"

"I will never see you as my family."

Every time you saw her, you had an argument. She never accepted the fact that you're her grandchild. The only one. You also had a lot of discussions with your dad about her attitude towards you, but he always told you that she is old. That she will never change, and it's too late to change her. You will never tolerate that. And that is the problem. Today she overstepped the line by arguing with you in the hallway of your house. The Jeon's sitting in the living room and enjoying the scene. At the end, it's a big no-go for your dad to have a family dinner without you. But you don't even care anymore. 

Opening the little metal box, you see that you only have one cigarette left. A sigh leaves your mouth. You hear some steps coming towards you; turning your head in the direction you see Jungkook's wide smile, you realize that the night will be longer than usual.

"You really are a little crybaby," he says with a teasing voice. You roll your eyes at him. "Fuck off". He sits next to you and looks around. It is funny because nobody is here. "I would rather fuck you," he says, voice a little lower. You choose to ignore him. He notices that you are shivering and puts his jacket over your legs in your short dress. You grab it to throw it back to him, but he is quick to stop you. 

"I'm not here to tease you this time. I overheard your conversation with your grandma and felt bad. Don't get me wrong; I'm not pitying you, but I can understand how you feel. It must probably suck," he tells you; this time his voice is more gentle. "You don't need to waste your time here. I will go back soon. Oh, and I hope you didn't expect to hear my story or whatever," you say. He nods, already prepared for this answer. 

You sit in silence with him for another thirty minutes. It's time for your last cigarette, but you can't smoke in front of him. He would definitely use it against you because, at the end of the day, nobody knows about it. "I will go back home. Have a good night, and thanks, I guess," you say while standing up and handing him his jacket. He quickly gets up too and walks with you. You turn towards him and frown, "Leave me alone, creep". His soft laugh fills the cold night. "You don't expect me to let you go alone at night, right?" he asks. 

The walk is silent but surprisingly peaceful. When the realization hits you, you stop in your tracks. "I can't go home. They are still there," you say and squat down. No, you will not show weakness, but you're ten seconds away from crying. To your surprise, Jungkook squats down next to you. "Hmm, you're right. Your dad is leaving tomorrow for a business trip, right? So how about turning back tomorrow?" he asks. You look at him, unsure if he wants to help or make fun of you. "Yeah. I will go to a hotel," you answer. "Nah, don't worry; you can stay at mine," he says and stands up. He reaches for your hand to help you. You don't bother to answer him, just following him to his house.

The door of his apartment closes behind you. It's funny that he gives you a place to stay. After all, your father and his father are hating each other. They are sitting at the same table just for work. And like them, you and Jungkook hate each other too?

"I will give you something from my closet," he says and goes to his bedroom with a walk-in closet. You sit down on his couch. The last time you were here was one month ago when you both argued about something Jungkook did, and the teacher thought it was you. Jungkook took the opportunity and acted like you were the bad guy. But the argument ended differently; it ended with him fucking you. And neither of you ever talked about that again.

Jungkook comes back with some clothes in his hand. "Here, wear these," he says while handing them to you. Maybe he wanted you to change in the bathroom, but you start to undress in front of him. His eyes watching you with sparkles. You put on the shorts and the shirt he gave you. Both a little bit bigger than expected. "Thank you for letting me stay," you murmur and sit down. He thinks that you look adorable with his own clothes on. "Are you hungry?" he asks. You shake your head in response.

"Can I have a pillow, please?" you ask him. The tiredness has a grip on you. "You can sleep on the bed," he says instead. "I don't want to," you answer right away. Laying down on the couch and turning your back on him. Your hair is messily on the couch, and he dares to play with some strands. You're really sleepy to notice anything, and it doesn't take long for you to fall asleep. He stands up and carries you to his bed. Making sure that you can sleep well.

The next morning is cold. You already left his house without a sound. Jungkook expected it already but felt strange anyway. He doesn't know why you're both acting this way, like hating each other. It's also confusing to him to call it 'hate' because what he is feeling is a lot different than that. At the end he decides to ignore all of it and goes to school.

•

"She is crazy. If she lived years ago, they would definitely call her a witch," Jimin says in utter disbelief. You laugh at that. "I really don't understand what she wants from me. Just let me live, you know?". He feels sad about your family drama and wishes he could do more for you. "But you said you slept somewhere else. Where?" he asks. "Don't judge me, but I was with Jungkook," you say a little shy about the confession. But yes, he dramatically turns his whole body towards you. "What the fuck? Why wouldn't you call me?" he says a little mad. "He heard everything and followed me when I left the house. It was already late, and I was like, Fuck it, I will go with him," you say. You don't care about Jungkook. "He will use that information," Jimin says and plays with your hair. "If he annoys you, tell me and I will talk to him. He listens to me well because he loves me," he adds. You laugh and hug him right away. "Everyone loves you," you tell him. You're happy to have a best friend like him. 

•

The uni day is hectic like always. It's not like old schools anymore because everyone is from a rich family and too serious to have actual fun. Sometimes you wonder why your family insisted on a private university. "I want to go home," Yuna says after a drag on the cigarette. Yuna was one of your closest friends, and now you're sitting on a bench hidden behind the building. You watch your own smoke leaving your mouth. "Same," you answer. At the same time, you hear a loud noise and turn in the direction. The source of the noise leads Yuna to stand up in panic and walk in the opposite direction. You roll your eyes at her. 

Jungkook is standing there with his phone and goes on with the recording. "I think your dad won't like this," he says with a grin. You take the last drag. "Stop filming me," you tell him, which he listens to. He walks over to stand right in front of you. You look up with an annoyed smile, "What do you want?". Jungkook grins at that and asks, "What can you offer?". It's a green light for you to tease him. Your fingers move from his chest to his belt. You can feel that his breathing changes. His eyes are watching you with lust. "A lot," you answer to the question some seconds ago. You start to move your fingers a little lower to feel him more. He puts a strand of your hair behind your ear. "You look pretty in this position," he tells you. "I know, and I also know that you want me to go on. Maybe in your dreams," you say with a low voice. You push his chest to stand up, and he laughs at that. "We will see," he says as you walk away.

•

The lunch break begins, and you are having a conversation with Jimin. "She could behave at school," someone says while looking towards you. "Why are they looking at us?" Jimin asks. Since you are sitting here, more people started to watch you. You have the feeling they're also talking about you. "What's the matter?" you ask a random boy. He looks a little shy but answers, "Someone said that you're smoking in the uni-blog on Twitter.". Oh, that's right; you really thought Jungkook would keep it for himself? 

"How did they know?" Jimin whispers. "Jungkook saw me today," you answer. These people will talk about it for some days, so it's not a big deal. Until you see a proud Jungkook waving at you. He wants to play, so you accept that.

The next tweet is about Jungkook and his failed love life. It's not a big thing but a good distraction from your scandal. I mean every girl is talking about him, but he never dated anyone. There must be a reason, right? Maybe a small dick. What you didn't expect was that he didn't give a fuck. He also laughed at the rumors and told some girls, 'I can show you if you want'. In summary, you hate him a lot. 

•

Jungkook turns off the water of his shower. He puts a towel around his waist and walks out of the bathroom. Already checking his notifications on Twitter. Everyone is talking about you and him. The combination is cute to him, so he lets out a chuckle. When he walks inside the living room to get to the kitchen, he freezes in his spot. It's dark inside, but he can see a figure sitting on his couch. He turns on the lights to see you sit there and look at him.

"What the hell. How did you get inside?" he asks. Jungkook is shocked for real. "I saw your passcode last time," you answer while tilting your head. The view is nice. His toned abs and some tiny water droplets on his skin. He knows that you're checking him out. "I will change and come back," he says, despite liking the attention.

After putting on some grey sweatpants and an oversized black shirt, he turns back to the living room. "Okay, what do you want? It must be urgent if you break into my house," he says. "First of all, are you Gossip Girl? Why would you say that to the uni-blog?" you ask him annoyed. "I thought it was fun. And why are you questioning me after doing it yourself?" he asks back. You roll your eyes. "I know that your little tweet is just the beginning. And I really don't want my dad knowing about it. So I want to find a solution," you say with a smile this time.

He looks at your lips. It's the first time that you're not forcing yourself to smile at him. And he definitely likes that. "Okay, let's find a solution. How about being friends?" he asks. "Oh, come on. That's what you suggest? You're the one who has been bullying me since the first day. Now you want to be friends?" you ask back. This time he rolls his eyes and adds, "We can try at least". You think for a while. 

Option one is that he is pretending to be interested in finding a solution. Option two is that he is thinking of something else, so he is acting right now. The last option is that he wants to try.

You hope it's the last option when you say, "Okay, let's try". He smiles at you and shakes your hand. At the same time, his eyes catch the paper bag on the coffee table. "Did you buy food for me?" he asks. "No, dumbass. I bought it for us," you say and sit down on the rug. Opening the bag, you put everything on the table so he can eat too. He watches every single movement you do, and he is happy that it's so peaceful. 

Both of you are sitting on the rug and eating while watching a movie. You talked a lot about the plot and the food. When the movie ends, Jungkook suggests drinking a little. He fills up some wine, and you start drinking in silence. "My father is cheating on my mother," Jungkook says all of a sudden. You look up to him. "What?". He shrugs. "Yeah. My mother knows, but because of the name of the family, she stays. That's also the reason why I'm living alone," he adds. "Why are you telling me this?" you ask. "To gain your trust," he answers. You nod at him. "I'm so sorry about that. I can imagine that you're mad at your mother for staying silent, but sometimes you can't change their minds. Try to be there for her anyway because she must be feeling lonely. She is old enough to make decisions," you say. 

There is a moment of silence. He grabs your hand and plays with your fingers. "Thank you," he says. This time he looks vulnerable and kind. You smile up at him only to see that he is already looking at you. The eye contact feels heavy but peaceful. When he gets closer, you close your eyes and feel his lips on yours. The kiss is so slow and intense that you need to hold on to his shoulder. He slides his tongue inside your mouth, which makes you moan. Pulling back, he whispers, "I need you close". It's a sign for you to sit on his thighs and continue to kiss. The makeout session gets deeper, and he starts to walk to his bedroom with you in his arms. 

He puts you down on the bed and gets rid of his shirt. You do the same thing and watch him get over you. "You're so pretty," he says and starts kissing a way from your chest to your tummy. It doesn't take long for him to undress you. He is on his knees between your legs, and his tongue is playing with your heat. You moan his name when he starts pushing his fingers inside. The sensation hitting harder than you remembered. He takes his time to savor your taste. It's almost embarrassing how quickly you start shaking against his lips. He quickens his pace, and his free hand caresses your tummy. "Come for my baby," he says while locking his eyes to yours. It's the final push you needed to come undone with a little moan. 

You watch him pull out his fingers and lick them. When he starts kissing you, you can taste yourself on his tongue. Your fingers find a way to his chest, gently touching his abs, and they stop at his hardened dick. You stroke him in a tight grip, and his needy moan fills your ears. He kisses your neck and behind your ear. "I want to fuck you," he whispers. He pulls away a little, and you smile at him, "Fuck me".

"Get on all fours," he says while pulling away a little. He slowly strokes his dick and watches the way you're positioning yourself. "Condom?" he asks and helps you to spread your legs. "No, I'm on the pill," you say. He comes close and pushes your head down. His other hand positions his dick to your entrance. With a quick push, he is nestled inside you. You moan at the sensation and his hissing. He doesn't wait for a sign of you; he starts to thrust. "You're so tight," he murmurs at the feeling. His pace quickens with every thrust. His lips press against your hips and back. You wonder how he can be so gentle and hard at the same time. 

When he turns you on your back, only to watch your face, you close your eyes. "Look at me," he says while holding your hips to quicken his pace. Your eyes flutter open, and you watch his dick going in and out of you. "koo.." you moan at the sight. "Fuck," he grunts at the nickname. He can see that you're already fucked out and that you're near coming again. When you start shaking against him, his hips falter for a moment. You moan his name while coming down from your high. "Good girl," he praises you while his own climax is reaching him. With a final thrust, his dick twitches inside you. He pushes his whole length inside and spills his cum inside you. Both of your mouths leave a moan. He rests his head on your belly without putting all his weight on you. Your hands quickly find his hair. 

He looks up to you with a lovesick smile and watches your tired eyes with awe. Then he slowly pulls out of you, which makes you whine. "Sorry, baby," he says and throws himself next to you. It's weird this time because all he is doing is watching you. You don't know how to feel and also why your heart is beating so fast. He stands up and pulls you into his arms. "Let's take a bath," he says and walks to the bathroom. The night goes on with a long bath and a peaceful sleep. Hugging each other tight until the morning. And also you eat breakfast together.

•

"One more round?" Jimin asks. He looks a little drunk with pink cheeks. You smile at him and nod. At the end it was his idea to go to the house party. You accepted right away because the last time was a long time ago. You watch Jimin walking to the kitchen, and at the same time, you see something suspicious. A nice-looking guy exchanges something. They look like weeds. You never tried it out, but it looks appealing. He looks over to you with a lazy smile, and you return it. That's a good excuse for him to walk towards you. 

"Are you watching some business?" he asks. "I mean, you're doing it in the middle of the room," you say. He hands you the drink that he's holding. You take a quick sip and scrunch your face. "It's too strong". He smiles at that and drinks it in one go. "What's your name?" he asks. "Yn, and yours?". "Yoongi," he answers. "If you're interested, that's my number. Call me and we can meet up," he says while giving you a piece of paper. Then he walks away without looking back. Weird you think, but you also keep his number. 

"Nice to see you," you hear from behind. When you turn around, you see Jungkook standing there with a cup in his hand. "Same," you answer. Without a single word, you start to dance with him. It's weird how both of you started to move in rhythm. He holds your hips and sings to the music. You laugh at his cute expression and sing along. All of this moment starts to feel like it's in slow motion. Your eyes catch Jimin's worried face and the way he tries to get to you. 

You stop dancing, and Jungkook gives you a questioning look. "We need to go," Jimin says without looking at Jungkook. "What happened?" you ask him. Instead of answering, he pulls you away, but Jungkook's strong hand stops him. "What is going on?" he asks this time. Jimin sighs and shows his phone. It's a tweet from the uni-blog. 

Hi, my lovely followers. Today's topic is Y/n l/n. Her mother left after giving birth to her. Such a heartbreaking story. But how can she be the school's queen everyone fears? Let's think about that.

See you in the next post! 

Your eyes widened while reading it. Everyone thinks that your mother died after your birth. Only your family knows about the truth. And Jimin, and Jungkook. You freeze at the realization and turn towards him. He looks shocked and confused at the same time. "That's so low. Even for you, Jeon," you say. His eyes find yours, but he doesn't answer. You walk to the door knowing a lot of people are looking at you. This gossip will be haunting you for days and months. 

When Jungkook starts walking towards you, Jimin stops him. "I thought you guys would be at peace. Did you tell them?" he asks. Jungkook turns to look at him. "No. I swear this time it was not me," he answers. Jimin watches his expressions, and it's weird that he thinks that he is not lying. Both of them rush to the door, but you're long gone. 

While getting your phone out of your pocket, you see the paper with a number on it. First you text Jimin that you're going home and want to be alone. Second, you save the number and text him, 'Can we meet?'. Maybe the decision is thoughtless and you will regret it, but right in this moment you need to relax. Your head hurts from thinking about all the rumors and the reaction of your family. Yoongi sends his location and tells you to come in one hour. So you go home and change into more comfy clothes and walk to his place.

The location Yoongi sent to you is a garage in a quiet neighborhood. After a small knock on the door, it opens to reveal Yoongi standing there. He waits for you to come inside, and you start looking around. You had a wild imagination of the space, but to your surprise, it looks really good. There is a big couch in the middle of the garage on a red rug, and in the back you can see some instruments. On the walls are some posters and signs. "Do you like it?" he asks while walking to a chest with drawers. "It's suits you," you answer and sit down on the couch. He comes back with two rolled-up bars. "Are you going to smoke too?" you ask. He nods and makes him comfortable on the couch.

You pull your knees to your chest and hold the blunt in your hand. It's already burning, and you take your first drag. You can feel the difference between weed and the usual stuff you smoke. All of your nerves are relaxing. "So tell me what brings you here," Yoongi says while smoking his own. "I got exposed. Everybody knows what happened with my mother. It sucks," you say. You feel like it's easier to talk, and your thoughts are more collected. "What happened to her?" he asks. He is not the type who is interested in drama, especially because he is older. "She left me after my birth. She saw me as a burden," you admit. You don't know why the tears are streaming down your face. 

"I'm sorry for you. But at the end it's her loss. As I can see, you also managed to grow up without her. So you shouldn't be sad about it," he tells you in a cold voice. You glance at him. "It's easy to say. Maybe we would be a perfect family?" you say. He laughs at that. "I know your dad, yn. He would be the same as now, and probably your mother would work with him too. Nothing would change. It's the dynamics of your family. They are focused on working and making money. They need the power". For a moment you're quiet and think. He is right; probably nothing would change. You sigh, "You're right". That's the final word you say, and both of you start smoking in silence. 

Your phone is ringing for the 10th time this night. Not that you're aware of it because you fell asleep on the couch an hour ago. But Yoongi starts to feel annoyed by the ringtone. He pulls out your phone and answers it. "Where are you? I'm standing in front of your house, and it looks empty!" Jungkook asks in worry. Yoongi chuckles at that. "She is at my place," he answers. Jungkook freezes at the voice. It's kind of a familiar voice. "Oh, it's me, Yoongi," he adds. "Why is she there? Don't tell me she smoked some shit, hyung," he asks a little angrily. "I know you told me to stay away from her, but she came on her own. Don't get mad; she is alright and sleeping. You can take her home if you want," he explains. Jungkook doesn't answer; he hangs up and starts driving.

When he walks into the garage, he looks at your sleeping figure. You look so peaceful. "Hi, do you want a drink?" Yoongi asks. "No thanks. I will bring her home," he answers. He picks you up carefully and puts you in the car. After making sure you're buckled up and safe, he drives to his apartment. 

•

You open your eyes and look around. You can't remember coming here or falling asleep. The distant noises are a sign that you're not alone. You walk to the kitchen only to be met with Jungkook cooking. He doesn't catch that you're standing behind him. For a moment you're enjoying the view. It doesn't matter what he wears or does; he always looks good. When he turns around to place something on the table, he looks at you. "Oh, good morning," he says and smiles at you. You don't answer him and sit down to start eating. He frowns a little, but also he understands.

He sits in front of you and watches you eating. "It wasn't me," he says. You watch his eyes for a moment in hope of catching some mischief in them. But he seems honest. "Okay," you say and smile. "You don't need to go to uni for a while. You can stay here, or I can drive you home," he suggests. "Actually, I don't want to go home. My dad will ask a lot of questions about it," you answer. "You can stay as long as you want," he tells you and grabs your hand. His fingers moving gently on the back of your hand. "Thank you. I appreciate that, but I will stay with Jimin," you say. A little sad to break his heart. He quickly masks the disappointment on his face. "I also will go to school. No need to act like it's affecting me," you add. He nods at that, and both of you return to eat.

•

The school day is as expected. A lot of students asked you about the news, and you told them that it's a family issue. Also, you got a lot of weird looks from people you didn't like. You feel a little lonely when neither Jimin nor Jungkook is in sight. You wonder what they are doing.

At the same time, Jungkook and Jimin are standing in the sports hall. Some of their friends holding the door and others standing in front of it to give a signal when a teacher comes. The poor boy is sitting on his knees on the floor. Apologies leaving his mouth in fear. Jimin and Jungkook were on the search for the responsible person. And it was easier to find him than they were expecting. He was the son of a famous family. His mother was friends with your grandmother. And that explains how he knew about your secret. Jimin wanted him to apologize to you, but Jungkook wasn't satisfied with this idea. So he started beating him up and then made him apologize. "I will text YN to come," Jimin tells him. 

After receiving the message, you walk to the sports hall. A little confused but also curious. When you step inside, you see a boy with blood all over his face looking at you. Jimin and Jungkook standing in front of him. "What the fuck is going on?" you ask. Both men turn towards you. "That's the guy who told it to the blog," Jimin answers. You roll your eyes. "So you started beating him up?" you ask. "He deserved that," Jungkook says and shrugs his shoulders. 

The boy looks at you in hope and says, "I'm sorry. It was dumb of me. Please forgive me". You look him up and down. "Don't act like you're sorry. If I were you, I would run," you whisper the last sentence. He stays in place for a while, and then he starts running away. You turn to Jungkook, "I don't need a lame apology". "Everyone should know that they shouldn't mess with you," he says. You look down at his red knuckles and sigh, "Look at your hand. So stupid of you!". Jimin crackles at that but shuts up after getting a glare from Jungkook. You hug Jimin's side. "Thank you for being there for me," you say. He quickly hugs you back. "Everything for you, princess". You giggle at him and catch Jungkook's frown. "What about me?" he asks. For a moment he looks like a lost puppy, and you snort. "Thank you too," you say. But you can already see that he isn't satisfied with that. Despite that, you walk out with both of them and make fun of the boy who was seconds from crying. Your heart is feeling a lot lighter.

•

The weeks go on, and every day it gets quieter. There are some people left who talk about the topic, but a lot of them dropped it. You found a good bond with Jungkook and Jimin. Feeling like you were friends for more than years. Okay, you know both of them since childhood. But Jimin was your friend since then, and Jungkook your enemy. Not anymore, though, and it doesn't feel weird. You can feel that he is developing some feelings for you. And you can't deny that you have feelings too. But no need to rush it, right?

Your family was more affected by the gossip than you. They were worried that the business would be destroyed. Your dad and grandmother scolding you for being dumb and telling people about it. After you told them that it was the son of your grandmother's friend, they left you alone. Sometimes you were staying at Jungkook's house instead of at home. And you think that this was the best decision you ever had.

Tonight you planned to go on a date with Jungkook to spend some time together. He picks you up in his fancy car. Lending you a bouquet of red roses. You smile at him and lean in for a kiss. "You look beautiful," he says while looking at you. If you had seen this months ago, you would have laughed. But now you're happy with him and smiling wide every time he talks.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.

I'm not a smoker, so don't come for me if I used wrong terms etc :( .

I would be happy if you could leave a review. Feel free to ask me questions or talk about anything (press the button in my bio)! Feel loved ♡

[synthetickitsune]

S.Coups (SVT) | Manifestation crack | 0.7k | gn!reader warnings: dick size discussion A/N: never let me talk to @hanniedream this isn't what i thought i'd be writing today. also why did this turn out so angsty

“What did you do?” Seungcheol’s quiet growling, his no-nonsense tone, doesn’t carry too far in the silent cafe.

“What do you mean?” you ask, sipping the drink you paid for, and slide his own cup closer to him. He’s so enraged that he almost crushes the cup with his grip.

“You know what I mean,” he snarls.

You hum and look out of the window. Perhaps you do, but you want to hear him say it loud and clear. Although maybe not that loud, you don’t need people to start turning your way. It’s revenge but it’s not part of your plan to publicly humiliate him. At least for now. So you clear your throat before he can slam his fist on the table.

“I mean it, Cheol,” you sigh and blink up at him, the picture of innocence, “Whatever do you think I’ve done?”

He sets his jaw, his fists clench and unclench. There’s a fire in his eyes that you know too well. That same fire once was the beginning of your undoing.

“Are you kidding me right now?” he looks like he’s about to hit you but you know he wouldn’t. 

“No, I really have no idea what you’re talking about,” you pout your lips only slightly. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. His eyes scan the cafe but you’re sitting in a pretty secluded corner - again, a mercy he doesn’t deserve. He leans closer, gritting his teeth. His muscles bulge with the way his body gets tense. And suddenly despite everything, you find yourself drawn to him. Desiring him.

“My dick is shrinking,” he says, point-blank and without beating around the bush. You almost spit out your drink. He narrows his eyes at you.

“So I guess it’s working,” you snicker and the look in his eyes is priceless.

“You little-” 

He never gets to call you whatever he was about to call you, silenced by a curious look from a guy sitting a few tables over. There’s something very satisfying about watching Cheol withdraw back into his seat with fury still ablaze in his gaze.

“How and why?” he growls.

“Art of manifestation,” you shrug and chuckle at the confusion written all over his face, “I know, right? I guess not all of it is a scam.”

“As to why, do I really need to explain?” you quirk a brow at him. He just gives you a very straightforward nod. You roll your eyes. “You’re impossible, Cheol. You’re so annoying, walking around like you own the world. Like everyone needs to bend to you will just because you have a massive dick - oh wait, had a massive dick.”

“What?” he looks ready to pounce at you, and not in the way he usually does, “That’s it?”

“What do you mean that’s it?” you huff incredulously, “Have you ever heard yourself talking? Cheol, you’re lucky nobody’s fucking done this before.”

“You’re so petty!” he spits and buries his face in his hands.

“And you’re so infuriating. Sorry but you need to be humbled, I’m basically doing this for you,” you take another long sip of your drink and feel yourself relax. What’s he gonna do? Only you can help solve his little problem. And he looks sort of adorable being helpless like this.

“What can I do?” he finally whispers. You’d be lying if you said it doesn’t hurt just a little bit that he never spoke this softly to you before, not even in the early hours of the morning when you were both sweaty and breathing heavily after your nightly escapades. No, instead he’d be boasting about how good he made you feel. He deserves this lesson.

“Be a good person. Be nice, be kind, the usual stuff,” you look away but you feel his eyes burning holes through you anyway.

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I am nice, just not to you?” he bites back.

“Careful,” you smirk through the hint of hurt, “As you said, I’m very petty and you wouldn’t want your situation to get worse.”

You get into a silent staring contest that you end up winning. But still, somehow, despite it all, you feel like all you did today was prove his point.

You end up getting asked out on a date, as if something inside of Seungcheol broke and he accepted his fate. Not what you expected but sure, why not if he’s on his best behavior. Let’s see where this goes.

[princessmaeee]

Hi!!! May I request a GD x Fem!Reader, inspired by the skit where he played a villain/mob boss. Reader is there with him and the guys at the variety show, enjoying herself as she watches the guys play the silly games and loving how adorable her Ji-Yong is. But then she sees him come out and act all tough, her breath catches. Just when she thinks her bf can’t get any hotter. The others see her reaction and tease her relentlessly but she’s only got eyes for her man and his incredibly acting skills. How does he react when he learns that she’s all flustered by him acting all tough & possessive?

Villains Are Hots

Author's note : Hiii Sweety, thank you for the Request And sorry for the Wait ! I tried to search for G-Dragon Acting as villain. I found things, but I'm not sure If what I came with was exaclty what you wanted but I did my best ! I hope You will Enjoy it ! ♥

You were invited to a Variety show with all the other members of Big Bang and also Taeyang’s Wife, Min Hyo-Rin. The public knows you and the Leader, Ji Yong, are dating for almost a Year now and GD publicly said some weeks ago how serious this relationship is. You were more than happy he finally told you about you publicly. You didn’t rush him or even ask him this before, cause You knew how problematic it could’ve been if his fan reacted badly to the news, but happily for both of you, everyone accepted it, or almost everyone. The most recurrent criticism was about you not being an idol and just being a nobody, but you didn’t care and so did Ji Yong.

It was your first ever Tv appearance and you were sort of nervous, especially since none of the staff told you what’s gonna be about, but Hyo Rin seemed just as confused as you. She was in this industry for years and no one wanted to tell her what the show was going to be about.

When the animator called your name, you made your way on stage to your seat and the animator had a little conversation with you to introduce you a little bit more to the audience.

«-So, apparently you and G-Dragon have been dating for a moment. How is it to date a legend like him ? »

You blushed and gave a look to Hyo-Rin. You never did this before so you kinda start to feel anxious. You don’t want to say something wrong.

«-Oh, it’s … nice. I mean Ji Yong is really adorable and caring. He’s also really hard working. Sometimes I have to remind him to eat or to go sleep or even just get some rest. Otherwise he will literally work 24/24h. -And tell me how you met ? -It was three years ago. I had an Internship at YG for my work and I accidentally bumped into him on my first day. Well, in fact he bumped into me. I had an iced coffee in my hand so the impact made me spill it all over my clothes. Ji Yong apologized many times and got me a new outfit and also bought me another coffee. It was really sweet of him.-Yeah, that’s really kind. And did you recognise him when you bumped into each other ? -Not at all, I was too anxious, I barely had slept the night before so I didn’t pay attention. -And when you realised it, How did you react ? »

The animator continued to ask you questions until they switched to Hyo Rin, asking her about her relationship with Taeyang. Since she’s also an artist, she felt more comfortable with the questions. She was used to it, not like you. When question time was over, the animator introduced Big Bang and they appeared on stage, singing and dancing on their last released song. It was the first time you saw Your boyfriend performing live. You saw a lot of videos but never the live one. It made your heart beat faster and you smiled more as some sparkles lightened up in your eyes.

When they finished singing, it took place on the other side of the stage and the Animator started asking them questions about their dating life and for Taeyang and GD how they felt about having their partner on the stage today. GD smiled and answered ;

«-I’m happy she can finally see this other part of me. Performing is a big part of my life and of who I am, so having her there to see me live gives me motivation to give 110% of myself. »

You blushed and hid your face with your hand, smiling more. 

«-Congrat, GD, you made her blush, teased Taeyang. -Don’t say too much, she's gonna run away, continued Daesung. -Oh but you didn’t notice, but the camera did, when you were performing, how she reacted. Let’s watch Y/N reaction. »

On the big screen behind you, your face appeared and you could see your reaction wile looking at your boyfriend who was performing. You enjoyed it. As you look at your own reaction, you hide your face again in your hands, more embarrassed.

«-How are you feeling Y/N ? Asked the animator. -I don’t know. I’m not used to seeing myself on such a big screen. It’s kinda intimidating. -Keep an eye on her, I don’t think she’ll be ready for what’s next, said You boyfriend, with a big, to the animator.»

You gave him a confused look.

«-What have you planned ? You asked him.»

He just smiled at you and gave no answer. While the time off, you go back backstage. Ji yong passed close to you and gave you a soft kiss on the cheek before whispering in your ear.

«-You did an amazing job on stage, it seems really Natural for you. »

You smiled, happy to have given a good performance only by being yourself. You didn’t have time to answer Ji yong, he already left to go into the changing room with the other members. 

When you came back to the stage, the decor had changed. You were more and more confused about what will happen next. The staff showed you where to sit and you did. When the show restarted, the animator asked you.

«-So Y/N who’s your favorite Villain in any movies you have seen before, and Why ? -I think it’s ( Favorit’s villain name ) but I liked a lot more of the villains. Sometimes they’re not pure evil, they are just really broken. But also because I think they all have a lot of charisma. -That’s what we heard and that’s why we prepared a little sketch, with actors you will like of the ( scene name of villain you like ) from ( your favorite movie ) »

You started to make connections in your head and when the scene started, you saw your boyfriend, dressed with clothes who looked a lot like ( favorite villain name ) playing your favorite scene. You already love the character so much, but seeing your adorable Ji Yong as this evil character, playing like a pro, saying all hsi verses, it made your heart race more. You felt your cheeks becoming hot. For a moment you forget you were on stage with cameras, you just looked at GD performing with such admiration. Now you could definitely tell the difference between G-Dragon, the performer and Ji Yong, your adorable boyfriend. You can also say how much you like them both. 

Whe is performance were over, the animator looked at you and asked you something, but you didn’t pay attention, you eyes were still on your boyfriend who looked at you with a little smirk. Fuck that was hot.

«-I think you broke her, T.O.P said to his leader, when he noticed you didn’t answer the question the animator asked you. »

Your face became more red as you came back to reality, asking again what the question was.

«-What did you think of this little performance ? -It was… »

You looked at GD again and smiled at him.

«-It was hotter than the original. I’m glad to have such a talented Boyfriend. »

[lsunstreakerl]

little darkbull carlos and max snippet! 800-900 words, kind of fluffy, all things considered.

Hi! still darkbull verse. mature content implied and all that.

Carlos is trying to review onboards at the factory when Max comes back in, strolls right across the floor and settles on top of him on the couch. There's no hesitation in it anymore- maybe there was when they were a bit younger, and Max still had Jos' voice in his head, slimy and oil slick, telling him what not to do.

Carlos doesn't really think about that Max too much. He's much different from the current Max, who's winding their legs together and propping his chin onto Carlos's chest, blue eyes blinking at him.

He gives up on the onboard review, settles the tablet down on the floor as he runs his hands down Max's back, fingers tracing the ridges of his spine.

"I thought you were with Danny?"

Max hums, bringing one hand up to carefully curl Carlos's hair around his fingers.

"I was. But he is stressed about next weekend, and I did not want him to have to pretend to feel better around me."

Carlos hums, twisting his head to kiss the inside of Max's wrist, just above the bracelets. He's more observant than he lets on, Max.

Painfully oblivious about the real reason, sure, but not stupid. He's clearly picked up on the fact that Daniel tries not to show stress around him- around either of them, really- but he's attributing it to the wrong thing.

Carlos knows Daniel is stressed because they're doing well this season. They're doing well, and they're riding the high, the whole team is, but-

They'll have to come down eventually. Max will be upset, when it inevitably happens. Daniel and Carlos have a responsibility to try and mitigate that damage.

There's a folded piece of paper in Carlos's dresser drawer, his own loopy cursive and Daniel's rough scrawl, passed back and forth and folded so many times that parts of it are illegible now.

It's their list of things Max likes. What pulls him out of a funk, what he does to let off steam, what they can do to him that turns him into liquid between them, sweet and melted and soft.

Carlos runs his thumb along the inside of Max's wrist. The decoy tracker is embedded there, a slight bump that Max thinks is a weird bone spur. It's not the actual tracker- he has one nestled next to his spine and another tucked deep into his ankle- but it still gives a signal and a heart rate. Enough to be convincing, if it got closely inspected.

Some might think Redbull is stupid, putting one so obviously in the wrist, but Redbull has a bit of a partier reputation- it's believable that it's the only tracker they have.

Nobody would expect the redundancies, even if they should- Max is Redbull's prized possession. They would never compromise his safety.

He breaths out a soft laugh.

'Never'- except for when Max is in the car. Carlos half wonders if they'll ever pull him out of it, tell him he can't drive anymore.

He wonders if Max is in too deep to notice.

He wonders if Max is in too deep to care.

Max presses a kiss to his jaw before tucking his head into Carlos's shoulder.

"Something funny?"

Carlos presses his fingers a little further into the dip of Max's back, applies pressure the way he knows he likes as Max goes liquid on top of him with a soft sigh.

"Just thinking about Danny. You know how he is."

Max hums, lips pressed into Carlos's skin. They're getting chapped again- he needs to get him more lip balm. Max doesn't believe in it- thinks it's stupid- but he'll sit still for Daniel if he asks, will patiently let Daniel press it into his lips until they're soft and shiny.

Probably because he knows he'll get kisses from them both out of it.

"I wish I could just tell him to stop worrying. The team is doing well, it will of course be okay."

Carlos rests his chin in Max's hair. He'll need to talk to Daniel sometime tonight, after Max has fallen asleep. Figure something out to sooth the anxiety. They've got a break coming up soon, and Max will go with GP and his family, so things need to be good when he leaves.

If GP gets even a hint of dissatisfaction from Max-

Carlos puts the thought out of his mind. Max isn't acting dissatisfied right now- just concerned. He's being sweet.

"He'll be alright, just needs to have some time to think it through. I'm glad you came to me."

Max hums again, but it's softer already, half dozing.

"Read to me."

Carlos feels his mouth twitch up involuntarily into a soft smile. Max likes to fall asleep like that sometimes, with Carlos reading one of his novels out loud.

It's definitely the accent thing- Max has a preference for it.

He lowers one hand to feel around underneath the couch. Pack of gum, condom wrapper, gun, Xbox controller- there.

He pulls the book out with his fingertips, patting it against the side of the couch a few times in case there's any dust on it before flipping it open, holding it in one hand while the other moves over Max's spine in slow strokes.

Max shifts a bit before falling still again.

Carlos begins to read.

[anxiouslypretty5]

My thoughts on a certain topic..

** this might reach targeted audience and i might receive backlash but if you’re defensive about this topic then CLEARLY you’re part of the weird “problem” **

nowadays when i’m reading success stories or watching a bit of videos i always ODDLY see the weird obsession with japan. now im not gonna gatekeep a damn country because i obviously don’t care but why is it always on TIKTOK specifically. and sometimes i always see “oh to be a japanese student in japan” or “if i lived in japan i would never want to miss a day of school” NEWS FLASH YES YOU WILL. this isn’t anime?? like you’re not gonna have your anime moment where your “senpai” is gonna bow to you with a letter in his hand asking you to be his “cherry blossom neko kawaii anime boo🥺🥺” some of yall obsess with japan too much to the point where i honestly think you have thoughts of “ugh i wish i was born japanese so i wouldn’t have to be in america” well jasmine sorry to burst your dreams but a’lot of japanese citizens WANT to leave japan. its not always sunshines and rainbows here, the pedophiles go crazy here, cheaters go crazy here, you might accidentally stumble on someone committing ykw.. because of the PROBLEMS in japan. i have japanese in my bloodline since im mixed with a lot but you don’t see me going around “ughh its so fun being a kawaii japanese girl😙😙” that just sounds weird. and again JAPANESE SCHOOLS ARE NOT ANY BETTER THAN AMERICA!! sure the education rates are high and people are smart there but you think you’re gonna have your “o..o..oops sorry ii-i-iku-kun!!” moment? no. the bullying goes crazy. (i haven’t been bullied but thats just from what i’ve seen) stop letting social media fool you with “japan is awesome!!” or “japan is living in 2057” HELLLOOOOOO japanese people are human? so stop treating them like they’re anime characters. same thing when i see a random video of just some japanese girls doing a random trend and suddenly i have to take the heaviest sigh when opening the comments because i know damn well i WILL see “what anime is this..” or “i smell 7 seasons” oh my god shut the fuck up.. its so damn corny..

now i don’t care about the aesthetic pages or whatever but japan isn’t an aesthetic💀 its a damn country and i don’t wanna see “o..oh i just like japan” “but i’ve dreamed of going to japan” honestly i don’t give a shit, go to japan nobody’s stopping you. 100% you will get weird stares after randomly moving to japan and starting the conversation off with “こんにちわ”

WE DONT ALWAYS USE THAT!!! 😭 yall did this shit with china too AND korea and this is insane. now im not saying if you like asia then you’re automatically an weirdo. no. i’m talking about the ones who say; “my type is asian men after watching squid games” “welcome to my vlog in JAPAN with my JAPANESE boyfriend as we eat in JAPAN” .. the fact i’ve seen “become japanese” subliminals is even WEIRDER (watch they come in my comments “oh! mind your business on what people do!”) clearly it’s everyone’s business if it’s publicly posted. now theres no way in hell we’re the same race in every parallel universe out there (uh oh get your hopes up!! you’re japanese in some other reality!! are you happy you weirdo?)

anyways some of yall are weird as hell.

[all-pacas]

I finished nobody’s fault & chase and I couldn’t understand why chase wouldn’t forgive house. Like obviously he’s traumatised and couldn’t walk but it feels like I’m just missing sth crucial. Chase did reason it with his doubts…but I don’t know if he honestly believed them. Any thoughts?

In a lot of very interesting ways, Nobody's Fault/Chase reads to me like a pretty direct continuation of Teamwork. Of S6. Cameron leaves the show talking about how House is poison, how he ruins people and ruined Chase specifically: House is reckless, House makes people act like him, House has ruined Chase's life. And… it's unfair, but it's not entirely wrong. Chase has become a worse person over the years. He has become a lonelier and more bitter person.

Nobody's Fault makes it fairly clear that legally, the stabbing was not House's fault. Chase fucked up, Adams fucked up, everyone made mistakes. House wasn't really even involved, but at the same time, none of it would have happened if not for House. This is Cameron's "poison" speech come back around: House spends years encouraging recklessness and results and defiance, and eventually it's going to backfire and hurt someone. House never told Chase to murder Dibala, but House taught Chase to act and not care about laws or consequences.

HOUSE: She blames me for Dibala's murder, not you. CHASE: You were barely involved in that case. She knows that. HOUSE: But I created the big, bad, evil climate that allowed it to happen. (teamwork)

CAMERON: You did kill Dibala. By playing God and teaching us to do the same. HOUSE: I taught you to think for yourselves. (teamwork)

COFIELD: You brazenly defied your boss. Now that happened either because Dr. House has established that that's okay in his world, or his prank war distracted you, or House makes medicine a game, and you just wanted to beat him. Whatever the reason, it boils down to the fact that you may never walk again because House created an atmosphere that promotes recklessness. (nobody's fault)

This is actually kind of a theme. We even see shades of it in The Mistake, in House Training, in Wilson urging 13 to work for House because she alone is immune to his influence, in Masters and Cameron leaving entirely: House changes people. Not for the better.

So, does Chase truly blame House for what happened? No. At the end of the day, Chase's loyalty to House did win out, and he defends him pretty strongly to Cofield; in fact, he's also able to point out that House was, despite his appearance, wildly concerned and worried and Chase knew it (let's not forget, Chase has always been very good at reading House). He seems to blame himself (using the same "I would do it again" language as he used in Teamwork). But that doesn't mean he isn't angry at House.

Chase is very similar to Forever, Foreman's reaction to his own near death experience. Foreman almost died, and is putting on an act of being a new person to try and give meaning to the event. Chase does sort of the same thing — except he comes to the opposite conclusion. He almost died, and it seems to have made him realize how completely miserable he is. House isn't to blame for the stabbing. He kind of is for that.

That's kind of a theme with Chase in S8 in particular. He takes a year off and is bored and waiting for House. In a later episode, he wonders why he's still working for House: he's in year seven of a three year fellowship. Foreman is the Dean of Medicine; Cameron is running an ER in Chicago. Chase is exactly where he started. His entire life is working for House. And he kind of hates it. Not House, but… his life, you know? He picked House over his marriage. He picked his fellowship over his very successful surgical career. What has he gotten for it? Divorced, lonely, bitter… stabbed. He's thrown his morals away. He killed a man in cold blood. Is he happy? Probably not.

Chase is unhappy, he feels (somewhat fairly) that his life is not what he wanted, and like Foreman years earlier, he's trying to make changes. He wants out of House's orbit. He's reflecting on what he wants, and his arguments against Moira joining her convent are… pretty telling: She's missing out on getting married. Having kids. Having a successful career. He tells her later he was married once, that he wants a relationship with her. We know these things are true; only two years ago Chase was absolutely convinced he had it with Cameron. But at the same time, he's grasping at straws. He wants to escape, to start over. He blames House for how his life turned out.

CHASE: I need to get away from House and everything that reminds me of him. ADAMS: By breaking the rules, not caring what anyone else thinks. You're gonna get away from him by turning into him? (chase)

CHASE: This has nothing to do with the truth. You don't like that I'm reassessing my life, that I want to change it, that I can. HOUSE: Anyone can screw up a life. I never said that wasn't possible. CHASE: You're incapable of human connection, so you want everyone to be like you. (chase)

And the thing is, Cameron must be rolling in her grave right now, because. This is what she was saying. House ruins people, he poisons them: he has influenced Chase and not for the better. Chase now, finally, agrees. He isn't happy with his life, and he's blaming House the same way Cameron did. He's angry with House and can't forgive House, not because Chase really blames him for the stabbing, but because he's in his words reassessing, he wants to change, he sees House (correctly, mind you) as the symptom of all these changes: it's not fair to blame House — House wasn't sitting and doing this intentionally — but it's inarguable that a decade with House has done this. (And I love how Nobody's Fault underlines just that point. Chase has been here the longest. He has known House the longest.)

But House is right, too. Chase wanting to change is sincere, but it's also a reaction. He is unhappy, but jumping straight to I will live happily ever after with this random lady isn't a solution. And implicitly, Chase agrees: the fact that Chase has spent half the season with very short hair and stubble, then these episodes limping, is not an accident. Nor is the fact that at the end of Chase and going forward, Chase is clean shaven, back to his usual hairstyle, and no longer limping.

I also think their argument at the end of Chase was. Important. House telling him it's okay, even if not in those words. That he isn't an idiot, that he didn't make a mistake or do something wrong (when Chase from his language and unhappiness over the past few years doesn't seem to agree). They've long since left the days where Chase was slavishly seeking House's approval, but that doesn't mean it didn't mean something to finally get it. I think House telling him you didn't do anything wrong was what Chase really needed: not just the words, but hearing it from House, in a moment where Chase is feeling lost and wanting to change and wanting to blame House (for being miserable, for not connecting to others, for being lonely and alone like Chase fears himself)? That mattered.

And we see going forward that Chase actually does change. He becomes close to Park, he stops sleeping around, he leaves PPTH on his own terms, finally (even if it doesn't exactly stick for long). Cameron was right all along that House changed Chase for the worse… but House and Chase seem to realize that doesn't have to stay that way, and that Chase can still change and be happier going forward.

[steviewashere]

Little Town Bar Bathroom

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Minor vomiting in the beginning, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Use, Steve is tipsy for a good majority of this fic Tags: No Upside Down AU, No Supernatural Elements, Modern Setting AU, Hurt/Comfort, Mostly Comfort, Fluff, Bartender Eddie Munson, Tipsy Steve Harrington, It Starts in a Bar Bathroom, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Steve Harrington Has Self-Esteem Issues, Down on His Luck Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Countdown to New Years, First Kiss, Implied Getting Together, Happy Ending Also here on AO3, because this one is over 5k words 😬

🎆—————🎆 Working at a bar had its perks. There was a consistent stream of regulars that he constantly talked to. He could change up the specials menu whenever he wanted—adding his own flare to the mix, if he so pleased. Sometimes, he had reign over the music. And, more often than not, he was allowed a free drink by the end of his shift.

The downsides, however, were long and weary. Customers who didn’t know what they were ordering, who swore him to Satan’s asshole if he got something wrong, and tried to barge their way in with fake IDs (as if he wasn’t going to check them). Oftentimes, the bar was packed and too hot and made him sweat like nobody’s business—hell, his shower had a run for its money the other night from how pervasive his musk had been. The last major issue he had took place in the bathrooms.

Given that this is a bar he works at, the stalls often fill with every drunk imaginable. The quiet ones that need a moment to breathe, the guys who can’t keep their hands to themselves (who Eddie has to often throw out), a few who are completely sober and just there to piss, and then the oddball loner. But since they’re drunk—well, the bathroom is often the majority of their custodial staff’s paycheck. Eddie doesn’t handle all that vomit bullshit well, despite tending the very thing causing customers to do that.

It’s tonight, though—New Years Eve, forty minutes to midnight, forty minutes to 2023—that the very thing he hates leads him to the only thing he unconditionally loves. He’s cleaning up the spilled beer on his countertop when he gets the innate, incredible urge to pee. The bar is crowded, so he wrestles in another tender, and speeds away to the men’s restroom. Everything’s going according to plan, as much of a plan as there is when it comes to using a public bathroom, up until he hears it. Somebody in the stall adjacent to him, retching up their entire soul in the toilet bowl.

He winces, just finished drying his hands off, anxiety teeming like water about to boil over, and moves on autopilot to knock on the door. “Y’alright in there, man?” Looking at the bottom of the door, he spots only one pair of sneakers—some Nike Cortez that are roughed up and peeling, falling apart from how much they’ve been used—assuming is easy; the guy doesn’t have any buddies in the bathroom with him. “Noticing there’s nobody else but us in here right now,” Eddie comments. “Can I fetch somebody for you? Help you get home?”

The guy jerks with another sound, moaning miserably once he’s done. He flushes the toilet, but makes no other move. “Alone,” he musters, “she just left me here.”

Eddie bites his tongue. Failed New Years date. Oh, boy. He sighs quietly. “Do you, uh, have someone you can call? Or…uh, I could see if my manager’s free, she could order you a Lyft? They should be free tonight, considering everybody’s drinking.”

“I…I’ll be fine,” the stranger croaks, “been in here a while. I’m sobering. Barely had anything to drink, honest.”

“You think you’re done with the worst of it? Make your way outta the stall?”

“Why? So you can berate me for making a mess of your bathrooms?”

Jeez, this guy is defensive. “No, man. So that I could get you some water, a ride home, maybe some food?”

He groans in the stall, still hunched over the toilet. “Don’t wanna go back out there. Got a fucking headache, all the booze and shit will make it worse.”

Eddie rubs a tired hand over his forehead. “My shift’s over in literally five minutes. Would you…would you feel comfortable enough to go to the diner next door with me? I’ve got some Advil in my employee locker. And I could get you a cheeseburger.”

The guy goes completely quiet and still.

He goes to try and shimmy around with the door, maybe get it off its hinges or something, make sure he’s not choking or—

But then he sniffles softly. “That sounds really nice,” he says, “you’re really nice. What’s…what’s your name?”

“Eddie, and yours?”

“Steve,” he breathes. “Sorry I’m such a sack of crap. Wasting your time.”

“Mm, you’re making it easier for me to clock out, actually. Wasting my time would be somebody trying to return a drink that’s been remade correctly five times. That’s when somebody should be sorry.” He peers down at his watch, right on the money to clock out. “I’m gonna get myself out of the schedule and I’ll come back to get you, okay? We’ll just hang out at the diner. And…I’ve got Lyft on my phone, I’ll call you one when you’re feeling a bit better.”

“Okay,” Steve sighs. “I’ll be waiting.”

He makes a quick turn out of the bathroom, rushing back towards the break room before he can get caught and berated by the other bartender he left to attend to customers. It’s as easy as 1-2-3, punching out, putting away his apron, and grabbing for his things inside his locker. Thankfully, there’s still a bottle of Advil. Granted, there’s only enough for one dose and he typically needs to take one after his shift for his sore feet, but he’ll make do this one time. This one exception—Steve.

Once back in the restroom, the stall that Steve occupied is now empty. Though, standing at the sink and lazily washing his hands is probably the most gorgeous stranger Eddie’s ever seen. Blue jeans and a deep red sweater, hidden under a tattered, brown leather jacket. Lean and tall, broad shoulders, big hands; moles dotting every square inch of bare skin, pink lips, droopy hazel eyes, and a nose that could rival every statue masterpiece. Then, he makes direct eye contact with Eddie.

Caught out. Stilled. But then he chuckles awkwardly, trying to ease some sort of tension—a tension Eddie can’t see. “Managed to get away from the toilet,” he says, “room’s spinnin’ a little.”

Quickly, Eddie’s coming up beside him, placing his left hand on Steve’s back. “How much did you drink, man? Somebody should’ve cut you off.”

“Only a few shots and a beer,” Steve mutters. “Guess I’m more of a lightweight than I thought I was? I don’t know…don’t know…it’s been a while. Usually come here when I got someone to sit down with.” His head lolls back down towards his hands, scrubbing at them loosely under the water. There’s a tired, defeated, sad glint in his eyes. “Been striking out,” he mumbles, “people looking for…for situationships. I don’t even know…what does that mean? I wanted a date, not sex.”

Eddie sighs through his nose and eases his hand up and down the curve of Steve’s spine, petting him as if to soothe him. Which, he supposes, that’s exactly what he’s doing. It’s not the first time he’s met a person out of their luck, crying into their drink. But the look in Steve’s eyes physically hurts. It reopens a hot chasm inside of him, bubbling like magma.

“Just take a minute,” Eddie murmurs, “let the room settle.”

Steve nods, slow and tired. Heavy. “Sorry, Eddie. I swear I’m better than this.” There’s a flash of a smile at those words, one that falls away just as quick as it came. He sniffles again, wet and unmistakeable. “Gonna be ringing in the new year alone, though. And I’ve got a headache. But…hey, I met you. Highlight of my night.”

When he chances a new look of Steve’s face fully, Eddie notes the fresh tracks of tears staining ruddy red cheeks. He coos softly under his breath, pressing his hand more firmly into his back, and stretches out to grab a distant paper towel. The water is still streaming from the faucet, and so he dips the napkin’s edge into the warm pour. Gently, he shifts Steve to face him better and brings the damp corner to his cheeks, patting over the tracks, rejuvenating the color in Steve’s skin so that it all matches.

For a moment, he’s caught out by the still watering hazel eyes on him—damn gorgeous they are, even like this—but they blink at him and he feels it, the stretch of Steve’s small smile. He returns it, of-fucking-course he returns it.

“Let’s get you cheered up, baby,” Eddie says softly, “the sky’s too full of fireworks for you to be sad.”

His palm strokes over Steve’s back, a heavy sweep of warmth. There’s the lulling rise and fall of his lungs, each breath unwavering and strong now, and not as nasally as it had been only moments prior. A hand sets on Eddie’s left hip, secure where it rests, fingers tightening into his belt loops.

“You always hang out with random strangers from the bar?” Steve questions quietly. There’s a hint, a little bit of something coating those words. A tidbit of heartbreak, if he had to give a name to it.

This close, Eddie can smell the last dredges of alcohol on Steve’s breath. There’s also the scent of his cologne, even as stale as it’s gone when he’d been hunched over the toilet, but it lingers. Peppery and warm and decadent like a slice of apple pie from the diner next door. He’s already getting that Steve’s as sweet as one, just needs to be righted slightly so it stands tall on the center of the plate.

The next words out of his mouth are tender and quiet, “No,” Eddie whispers, “you’re the only one.”

Steve hums, soaking up just as pie crust does. His hand tightens again on Eddie’s side. And then he sways them, half-steps, knees knocking. The sink is still streaming and there’s red rimming Steve’s honey eyes. It’s all so private. It’s almost just theirs. 

“Saying I’m an exception?” Steve then murmurs. 

His words land like gentle pecks to Eddie’s lips. And they’re closer than before. And he’d let them get even closer, if there was room.

“Why, you wanna be?”

“Mhm,” Steve buzzes.

The restroom door opens, a foot sandwiched in the gap of their space and the entire world. Eddie doesn’t let go, even if he was supposed to. Steve does, wearily aware. He finds himself not disappointed, though, not even in the slightest.

“You wanna be an exception over burgers now? There’s apple pie, too.”

“Yeah, Eds”—and oh, how that makes his chest flutter something incredible, his heart a newborn bird eager to take flight—“I wanna be your exception.”

If he wasn’t intrigued and swooning before, he most definitely is now.

But as it is, he simply pats Steve on the back and leads him out towards the bar again. Zipping through crowds of girls and forcing his way between boys about to brawl. There’s beer spilling out onto his clothes, that he hopes isn’t getting on Steve’s—doesn’t want to tarnish the absolute darling beauty he’s managed to rescue from the swamps of a muggy bar bathroom. Though, maybe it’s unavoidable. Maybe it’s just what is meant to happen.

Because something about Steve, his hand gripped tight in Eddie’s, the bounce of his step, his glassy eyes and loose smile when Eddie looks over his shoulder—something about the Steve of it all feels as close to myth alive as he’s allowed to believe. And, well, if there are more than three religions and some people don’t believe in any of it at all, then he can hold onto whatever the hell he wants. If Steve at his heels, chest slamming into his back as the cold outside air finally whips them in the face, is destiny, then…Eddie finally believes in destiny.

When the bar’s doors slam behind them and they’re overcome with the noise of distant fireworks and cars rolling by on crowded asphalt, Eddie begins to let go. Though, Steve grips to his fingers a smidge tighter than before.

“Wow,” Steve breathes beside him.

Eddie looks to him. His profile. The sharp angle of his nose, droop of his eyes, and curve of his easy smile. He follows his gaze, up to the sky.

A spattering of stars, only broken by the even brighter bursts of twinkling fireworks. Pinks and yellows and whites travel stark across the sky, each ember firing like a shooting star going home. He places his right hand over his chest, the beating of his heart a tumultuous, daunting thing. And he sighs, panting a short breath—

Let me keep him, he wishes, after tonight, let me have him. Please?

Steve squeezes their hands together, fingers sprawling so they can intertwine. His palm is sweaty, he’s shaking slightly. He laughs, though, a sputtering, unbelievable sound. “Thank god I’m outta there,” he whispers. Eddie gazes at the stretch of his neck, how his Adam’s apple resettles after bobbing out each individual word. There’s moles dotting there, too. Constellations, even more wonderful than the stars above them.

At least, Eddie thinks so. Objectively, he’s correct. Won’t hear anybody else on the matter.

He sinks his teeth into his lower lip and turns his eyes back to the sky. “Yeah,” Eddie murmurs, “you can only take so much being cramped in there. Everything’s a little more…”

“Sobering?”

“Real,” he corrects. “Everything’s more real.”

Their fingers are pretzeled together still. And as if to punctuate Eddie’s point, Steve makes him feel the pressure of their hands. As if to say, “We’re a little more real out here, too.” He supposes they are. And he supposes the budding warmth in his sternum—where he’s believed his soul to be his whole life—is real, too.

Eddie blinks, watching white streaks dissipate through the sky. His stomach grumbles, though, and he’s reminded with a back-handed slap why they’re out here. There’s plenty of time to watch fireworks later, but he’s only got such staggering minutes with Steve. And he promised food.

Maybe it’s too honest and maybe it’s a lot stupid—considering Steve is still such a stranger, an enigma to his brain—but he’d promise a whole lot more if he was allowed.

For now, he starts to drag them towards the diner. Only met with minor resistance from Steve’s stance. He relents quickly, though. Following after Eddie like a lost, scruffy puppy. Through the next burst of fireworks, he hears Steve’s stomach give a low grumble, too.

The greasy air of the diner hits him in one strong gust. Salt and cheese and a sprinkling of cinnamon. Pink bubblegum, too, as a hostess greets them at the door and leads them to a booth in the back right corner of the restaurant. The vinyl must be sticky when Steve bounces onto it, grimacing as his fingertips stay stuck like paw-pads on ice. Eddie finds out a second later when he saddles in right across from Steve, collecting the menus from the edge of the table as the hostess struts away to her bored stool at the coffee counter.

He hands over one menu, Steve taking it from him gingerly. With a passing, soft, “Thanks.” His eyes fall to the plastic sheet in his hands, seemingly enthralled by everything there is to choose from.

Eddie already knows what he wants, choosing to gaze ahead.

There’s a tiny pout to Steve’s lips, subtle an gentle, but definitely present. He’s muttering under his breath, thumbs tracing down the margins of the menu, half-formed sentences like, “Cheeseburger…tomatoes…lettuce—hmph—bacon optional, sounds good.” Steve takes the sleeve of his jacket and brings it up under his nose, wiping hastily at its tip. His face isn’t puffy or red anymore, just tinged with exhaustion. Even like this, slumped over a menu and recovering ever so slowly from the cold that had seeped into their bones and the roller coaster of emotions that had worked through their combined blood, Steve’s beauty is magnetic. But his thinking face? His consideration? His marveling wonder outside?

Aside from his looks, the rest of him still draws Eddie in.

Or maybe Eddie’s easier than he thought he was.

Or…or…Eddie knows what he wants.

“Oh, shit,” Steve breathes, “they’ve got fucking onion rings.”

“They’re pretty good,” Eddie amends.

Steve slams his menu to the surface of the table, hands spread, eyes wide insistently. “Of course they’re fucking good! They’re onion rings!” he softly exclaims. “Ooo, get ‘em with barbecue sauce and a Dr. Pepper? That right there is the champion of all meals.”

“Is that what you want?”

The menu’s picked up again. “Mmm…it does sound good…nah,” Steve says, eyes intense on the choices, “I’m still lookin’.”

Eddie snorts indignantly and greets their waitress. Ordering a basket of onion rings for the table, a couple waters, and a Dr. Pepper for “The man of the hour” with a half-gesture at Steve still muttering under his breath. It’s endearing how long it takes for Steve to finally settle on something, even if their combined grumbling stomachs get louder and louder, roaring over the tinny television in the opposite corner to their booth.

“You better pick something soon, else Anderson Cooper’s gonna blackout before the ball drops,” he gently teases, head nodding to the television. Steve looks to it, snorts, and glances back down at the menu. “I could also just pick something for you, if you’re too indecisive?”

“Chicken tenders,” Steve decides, “with crispy fries and a side of ranch.”

“Are you twelve?”

“Hey,” he objects defensively. “I happen to be a man of taste, thank you very much. It just so happens that I’ve got a young soul ’s’all.”

Eddie hums, face betraying him as it splits with a shining smile. Jeez, this guy is endearing. He leans over the table a bit, resting his chin in his hand; Steve mirrors him, smirking. Soft and low, he asks, “You still got a headache, Stevie?”

“Yeah,” Steve sighs. “It’ll probably stick with me tomorrow morning. Which sucks. I should’a left the bar as soon as my date stormed off. Would’a saved me a lot of trouble.”

But then you wouldn’t have met me, he wants to say, and that would suck worse.

“I’ve got Advil when the water comes. It’s the last dose in the bottle, but it should help. And also the Dr. Pepper. Caffeine might be good.”

“I don’t wanna take the last of your pills, man. You probably need it more than I do. Been working all day on your feet, I’m sure.”

He merely shrugs. “Yeah, well…I wanna help you. It’ll bring me some comfort if I can make you feel even a bit better, y’know?” Steve doesn’t say anything to that. Just looks at him like a confused, lost dog. Like he’s being offered scraps from a hand that doesn’t shake when he sniffs it. “But if it really bothers you,” Eddie continues, “then we can figure out a way for you to make it up to me.”

Steve cozies deeper into his hand, blinking long at Eddie. “That sounds good,” he breathes. “Say the word…”

“We’ll figure it out before you go home, okay? Not something for you to worry about now.” He fishes the bottle of Advil from his pants’ pocket and opens it swiftly, spilling the tablets into the well of his palm. Steve’s other hand is flopped over on the table, atop his menu, relaxed. Eddie places the pills in his hand and closes his fingers. No argument. “After you eat, I’ll order your Lyft. And then…maybe I can get your number?” He’s cautious about the conversation, though the words hit him at once. Failed date, New Years Eve, situationship. Eddie rushes to add,  “Just so that you can text me when you get home safely, that’s all. Don’t…I don’t wanna come off as, like, preying on you or something. Y’know, after the whole…Yeah. Just. Wanna make sure you get home safe.”

As soon as the breath rushes out of him, it’s like Steve breathes it in, responding with a syrupy, tired giggle fit. His hand fists the Advil tablets tighter. A flush colors his skin, travels down his neck as he loses himself to his laughter. The stretch of his smile and sprawl of his giggles make his nostrils flare. And Eddie doesn’t know how, after seeing the same on so many other guys, but the way Steve’s face simply moves with his joy stirs something in him. Awakes a part that had been hiding in a seemingly unending hibernation.

Shit.

Catching his breath and wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes, Steve resettles. Breathes, “You were so worried!”

“I was!” Eddie exclaims. He makes a dramatic show of crossing his arms over his chest, pouting his lips. “I didn’t wanna overstep. It’d be un-gentlemanly of me.”

“Oh,” Steve sighs, breath finally caught. There’s a big, goofy smile on his face still. His eyes glassy with—what Eddie assumes to be—happy tears. “You’ve already treated me way better than ninety percent of the dates I’ve been on, man. Don’t worry about…about being careful when asking for my number.” He rests in his palm again, his posture growing tired, slumping into the table. “I was gonna give it to you anyway.”

“Ninety percent? Who the hell do I need to fight?”

“People who are…unimportant and too full of themselves? I don’t know, Eds, it doesn’t matter. I’ll probably just…I don’t know,” Steve murmurs. He shrugs half-heartedly again. “I’m gonna go home after this and go to bed, wake up with a raging headache, and probably wish that you were still sitting across from me. Feel like you’d know how to make it better.”

Eddie hums. “Well,”—he positions himself better, sitting up in his seat and folding his hands on the table—“tonight, I’m gonna make sure you ring in the New Year happier than you are right now. And then, when you get home, you’ll text me that you did. I’ll tell you to have a goodnight’s sleep. In the morning, when you wake up, I’ll text you again, ask if you want some coffee. Maybe, if you’re comfortable, I could bring it over to your place and we could have a simple breakfast?”

“You’d do that?”

“If you want me to.”

Steve goes silent, noticeably contemplative. His eyes adrift to the table. In the mean time, Eddie orders their food and passes over the drinks when they arrive. He nudges Steve to take his pills and points out something that Anderson Cooper’s doing on the television.

But he doesn’t bring up tomorrow morning, not right now at least.

Because maybe he’s overstepping this. He’s putting himself in a position Steve doesn’t want him in. Only thirty minutes ago, they were complete strangers in a bathroom bar, groaning and grumbling at each other for being so defensive and combative. Maybe Steve’s got a friend waiting for him back home? Waiting to let him back inside and take care of him in the secret way only true friends know how.

They aren’t anything more than mere acquaintances. No matter how many half-lidded flirty glances Steve passes his way. No matter how many times Eddie’s eyes wander to Steve’s mouth as he gobbles down his serving of onion rings, a wish ringing out in his head, words caught star-bound in his throat, admiring.

He’s allowed to admire.

Not allowed to have, though.

And maybe he won’t ever get there. This will be it. A late night dinner, wishing Happy New Years, jokes tossed across the table like clumsy frisbees taking flight, and an aching in his chest. Feelings blooming in his sternum so suddenly, so abrasively, they’re thorns staggered sharp into his lungs. 

He breathes, his chest seizes, and the whiff of Steve’s stale cologne burrows inside him. He blinks, his eyebrows shoot up his forehead, and Steve’s strong shining summer smile brands to the deep crevices of Eddie’s brain. He laughs, their giggles blend, and the process starts all over again.

Is this what sunflowers feel like? Soaking up the sun, all that they can, and then begin the brittle early death of wilting into oneself? They have to wait so long to be born again.

Eddie doesn’t want this to be a one time thing, dead in the middle of winter, dead before it could be alive.

Steve will have his number, though. He’ll have a weakened headache in the morning now that he’s had some caffeine and begun processing a couple Advil. From there, though, the future is possible, but unseen. He’s not sure if he’s even something Steve could be looking for.

Wishful thinking, he tells himself, hopeful wishing.

“Dude, try this!”

He blinks back to himself, presented with a chicken tender thrusted into his face. It’s dripping in ranch, so Steve’s hand is cupped underneath it, trying to save the table. Eddie gapes, looking to Steve’s face.

The chicken tender is pushed into his space harder. “These are the best tenders I’ve ever had in my fucking life, and I need you to support me on this. Try it.”

At Steve’s request, he gingerly takes a bite. For some odd reason, he finds himself holding their intent and intense eye contact, unwavering. It’s just a chicken tender, nothing to write home about. Not like it tastes any different than the ones he can pick up from the Dairy Queen by his apartment, but if Steve’s saying it’s the best one he’s had…

“That’s pretty fuckin’ bomb, Stevie,” he says. It’s not a complete lie, but it’s not the complete truth. But it does earn him bright eyes and warm cheeks, a side by side dance in the booth across from him, and a pleased little grin. So…maybe these chicken tenders are the best, especially if they get a pretty boy like Steve to look at him like that.

“Told you,” Steve says around his next bite—half of a chicken tender and two folded onion rings. “You ever dip ‘em in gravy, though? That would blow away your socks, blow up your mind, and suck your dick.”

“You, uh, you really don’t fuck around when it comes to chicken tenders, do you?”

“I don’t fuck around with anything. I’m a set-in-stone kind of guy.”

The seriousness in his tone makes Eddie involuntarily choke on air, his eyes drifting away, flush high on his cheeks. He takes a few, quiet bites of his cheeseburger. It’s mediocre and spilling with grease, the bun is stale and the ketchup is weirdly cold, but he savors it. At least it isn’t another basket of tortilla chips and jarred salsa from the bar—he’d probably rip out his own stomach if he had to eat any more of those.

Steve tries to offer him another chicken tender, but Eddie pushes it back gently towards him. Tries not to coo over the soft, sad pout that the gesture earns him. “It’s your food,” he says, “I wanna make sure you eat it, sweetheart. You need it more than me.”

“But I wanna share it with you.”

“Stevie,” he murmurs, “I’ve already got my”—

He’s offered the chicken again. With a very forceful, “Take a bite. You worked for hours, I can tell from how tired you seem, and I want to share this with you.” And then—the bastard—adds a puppy-eyed pout to say, “Please? It would help me feel better.”

Eddie sighs dramatically, leaning forward and taking another bite. He raises his eyebrows, gazing at Steve as he rescinds his food offering. “Happy now?”

Steve nods, smiling as he does so. “Very.” He pops a fry in his mouth and crunches down on it, his grin as big as the Cheshire Cat’s. And then, his focus goes back on his basket of food, none the wiser to Eddie’s openly affectionate adoration.

He forces himself to look away, to stop getting caught up on the Steve of it all, this night. Probably one of the best New Years Eves he’s ever had. Eddie takes a deep breath, though, and looks to the television.

Forty seconds to midnight.

How’d their night drive by so damn fast?

“You gonna count down with me?” Eddie asks, interrupting the lull of silence that filled between them.

“Mm, among one other thing, yeah.”

“What other”—

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve quickly adds, dropping his food into his basket, “how much time do we have?”

“Fifteen seconds.”

He watches Steve wipe his fingers on a nearby napkin, counting aloud with “Fourteen.”

And as the numbers go down, Steve pushes himself closer over the table. Eddie can only match with him.

Ten.

This close, Steve no longer smells like his cologne. Just barbecue sauce and onion rings, the grease from chicken tenders, and a lighter thing that he can’t quite place. Something happy, whatever it is.

Eight.

“Anyone ever tell you that you have nice eyes, Stevie?”

“Don’t think anybody’s really taken notice.”

“Well…”—Eddie breathes gently—“you have really nice eyes.”

Five.

Steve slides his hand across the table, gripping for Eddie’s left. Their fingers tangle, pretzeled together. Warm, even there. His smile is warmer, though, and Eddie begins melting at the sight of it. He wonders if Steve is thinking the same thing.

Three.

“Two,” Eddie breathes.

He squeezes their hands. “One,” Steve sighs. And with it, he surges the last few inches over the table, pulling Eddie towards him, planting a delicate kiss on his lips. It doesn’t carry longer than a couple seconds, but it lingers. Lingers like the decadent, sweet scent of apple pie. They’ll have to get slices before parting.

The diner fills with cheers, whoops and hollers. There’s a burst of multi-colored light outside, painting the left side of Steve’s face with pinks and blues and yellows. Maybe it’s all so cliche. Maybe Eddie tripped and fell, went into some head trauma-induced coma where he can only dream of a picture perfect world waiting for him.

But Steve squeezes his hand again, fingernails pinching into his soft skin.

Eddie knows he’s awake.

The haziness has cleared from Steve’s eyes, replaced with romantic determination. And Eddie knows he must be mirroring something like that, too.

“Happy New Years, Steve.”

“Happy New Years, Eddie,” he murmurs—the breath ghosts over Eddie’s lips, close enough to kiss them—“best night I’ve had in a really long while, thank you.”

He wants to kiss him again, so he does. Gentle and quick, sweetly though, and drenching.

If a night could last forever, he’d pick this one right here.

“My pleasure,” he says and means it to the core of his soul.

“Can I take you up on that coffee tomorrow? I have donuts back home, we could make a morning of it.”

Eddie swallows, sure that Steve hears him. His palm sweats and the thing inside him, stirring and rolling the whole night, is finally, finally alert. “Of course, sweetheart”—it fills him with giddy pride the way that nickname brings a flush to Steve’s cheeks—“what time?”

“I’ll call you when I’m ready. I wanna hear your morning voice.”

“You flatter me.”

Steve raises their joined hands to his lips, kissing the back of Eddie’s. His lips are sticky, somehow, but sweet. The next time they kiss, he hopes Steve tastes like pie. “Good,” Steve whispers, “you deserve to be flattered now.”

And maybe it wasn’t the most romantic start to their relationship…

But Eddie wouldn’t have it any other way.

🎆—————🎆