#if you don’t like it I’d be happy to do another | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chanranghaeys · 2 days ago

Text

😭

i've been putting off reblogging this because 1) i was busy AS A WORKING GIRLIE, 2) i was busy as a working girlie wishing for CHAN AS MY WORK SPOUSE, and 3) svt con weekend in my country haha

I'm Annotating my going insane because I Want To (below the cut~)

“Aren’t you supposed to be getting your afternoon coffee with Mr. Program Assistant?”

i hate how kae clocked me for this as a nonprofit programs girlie hate it hate it hate it LOVE IT SO MUCH I COULD CRY. chan would be such a good programs person if he worked hard on it i can See it.

He doesn’t respond verbally, just smiles at you in that way that lights up a whole room. It’s the type of grin that has you forgetting just how bad of a morning you had; you’d lose yourself in it if weren’t for the ominous presence of Vernon a couple of seats down.

wow. wow. just imagine arriving to THIS at the office in the morning. i'd faint on the spot. or just outright kiss him—office etiquette be damned.

Vernon lets out a huff of laughter at Seungkwan’s side. “I’ll bet a dollar that it’s Lee Chan,” says Vernon. Seungkwan responds with a roll of his eyes. “That’s a given.”

i've always maintained that i'd be so good friends with the maknae line irl as a forever svt maknae line truther. I Love Them.

It’s hard not to laugh when Chan is looking at you like that.

LIKE WHAT CHAN?? LIKE WHAT??

“Hey, Lee Chan, where’s your work wife?” Chan doesn’t miss a beat. “She’s in a meeting with finance,” he answers without even looking up from his keyboard.

i swear to have someone just know intimate details like this about you god i swear how was this not a giveaway???

“Well, tell her that we hope she gets better soon,” the CEO says coolly. A corner of her lip is upturned, like she’s finding this entire interaction a little too amusing.

sorry it's so funny to me that the ceo seems privy to these things seemingly evident in these little actions but of course she won't let anyone know about it my god it's so accurate imo

And, alright, fine. Maybe your knees knock into each other more often than not. Maybe Chan puts a hand over your ear whenever he wants to point something out, and maybe you lean in just a little more than necessary.

these small details gaaaahh me me me it's me i would so do this

“Of course it’s important!” Chan’s always been a little louder when he’s drunk, so his voice raises an octave or two.

CHAN IS ALSO ME I SWEAR

But the moment the corner has been rounded, Chan is sagging against your side like he’s wanted to the entire night. “Oh, thank God,” your boyfriend sighs. “I didn’t think I’d survive another minute without touching you.”

/kinilig/ 🫠

You’re not sure if he’s entirely right— you know of Vernon’s whole iPhone note, after all— but you’re willing to indulge your boyfriend if it makes him happy. “Yeah,” you concede. “They don’t know a thing.”

something about vernon being the one to list all of this down makes me feel like he's doing this in tandem with seungkwan. or maybe a bet to see who will come up with a list first. idk. it's fun to imagine really.

this whole fic made me so warm inside my little fuzzy and fluffy heart. thanks kae for this wonderful little gift huhu bless u forever ✨

the way of the work husband 📋 chan x reader.

going back to work after the holidays sucks, but at least you've got your 'work husband' lee chan to get you through it.

★ office worker!chan x f!reader. ★ word count: 1.8k ★ genre/warnings: alternate universe: office, alternate universe: co-workers, fluff/romance. vernon is a menace (affectionately). not proofread. ★ footnotes: been itching to write chan lately and this was the result. dedicating this to my favorite corporate girlie!dinonara @chanranghaeys, who i have been threatening a chan fic with for a little over a week now ෆ sana all may lee chan sa office. 😔 + a special shoutout to @diamonddaze01 for educating me on the how work spouses operate. 🙏

“Is Lee Chan, like, your work husband or something?”

The look on Vernon’s face is perfectly innocent, but his arched eyebrow gives some indication of just how amused he is. You shoot him a scathing glare before turning back to your work-sanctioned laptop.

You don’t answer Vernon’s question. Not at first, anyway. Instead, you opt to wryly ask, “Why do you always have to use his full government name whenever you’re talking about him?”

“Eh. Just ‘Chan’ is too short,” Vernon responds noncommittally. He should be focusing on the grant that he has to write, but he seems intent on quizzing you on your relationship with the company’s newest program assistant.

Vernon leans a little further into his computer chair. He’s always been a pretty amicable seatmate; he just liked to poke the bear every so often.

“So?” he prompts. “Are you and Lee Chan… you know.”

When Vernon makes a vague, crude gesture with his hands, you groan out loud. “Don’t make it weird,” you snap. “And no. Chan and I are just friends, asswipe.”

“But you guys display peak work spouse behavior.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be grant writing?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be getting your afternoon coffee with Mr. Program Assistant?”

Vernon’s rebuttal has you glancing at the digital clock on your desk. Shit.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you say as you grab your wallet and get to your feet. You hate to admit it, but Vernon is right. You’ve started dedicating your fifteen-minute afternoon breaks to cafeteria trips with Chan.

All in the name of friendship, you insist.

“‘Course it doesn’t,” Vernon sing-songs. Just when you think he’s done, he throws in a final jab.

“I’ll have an itemized list of my observations,” he calls after your retreating back. “Just you wait!”

You don’t turn around to dignify Vernon’s taunt with a response. Instead, you flip him off over your shoulder as you contemplate what coffee to get with Chan today.

Rarely are you late to work. Some mornings are just harrowing, littered with minor inconveniences like your alarm not going off or the bus making one too many stops.

When you finally make it to the office, you can already imagine the CEO’s backhand comment about punctuality. Something like ‘early is on time, on time is late, and late is unacceptable,’ probably.

That’s why you feel an immense pang of relief when you notice a vacant seat near the back of the room, one that you undoubtedly know is yours.

You make your way to the chair as discreetly as you can. The bag atop it is taken off the moment that you arrive, and you flash an appreciative grin at the one who made it possible.

Chan— who is already shifting his bag onto his lap— gives you an exaggerated wink in return.

You mouth a wordless ‘thank you’ at him. He doesn’t respond verbally, just smiles at you in that way that lights up a whole room. It’s the type of grin that has you forgetting just how bad of a morning you had; you’d lose yourself in it if weren’t for the ominous presence of Vernon a couple of seats down.

The meeting grabs your attention soon enough, but not before you notice Vernon inconspicuously typing something into his phone.

☑ You always sit next to each other at meetings

“Who’re you texting?”

“Hm?”

“Hellooo! Pay attention to me!”

There’s a guilty expression on your face as you finally glance up at Seungkwan. “Sorry,” you say meekly. “What were you asking?”

Vernon lets out a huff of laughter at Seungkwan’s side. “I’ll bet a dollar that it’s Lee Chan,” says Vernon.

Seungkwan responds with a roll of his eyes. “That’s a given.”

“Yah,” you begin to protest, ready to justify the way you’ve only been half-present throughout your entire lunch break.

Your attempt falls flat when your phone pings, and the screen lights up.

One (1) new text from Channie. 🦖LOLOL I have the perfect reel for this!! Wait a minute~~ 💖💙

Seungkwan scoffs. Vernon snickers.

Your eye twitches, and you shoot back a text underneath the table in a bid to avoid your friends’ teasing.

☑ You message each other all day long

It’s hard not to laugh when Chan is looking at you like that.

Despite the fact that there’s a whole brainstorming session going on— preparation for the company’s next fundraising event— the two of you can’t help your silent communication.

Especially when Soonyoung starts running his mouth about the fundraiser potentially being tiger-themed.

One glance is all it takes. Chan’s lips are drawn into a thin line, and you know he’s also trying his darndest not to laugh. It’s a mammoth effort to hold back yourself, but you manage— not wanting to suffer from your eccentric boss’ line of questioning.

It’s all free game once the session ends, though.

You make a beeline for Chan. He takes one look at your quirked lip before jerking his head towards the door, urging the two of you to have this discussion somewhere you won’t be lynched.

Still, you and Chan can barely resist your peals of laughter as you leave the meeting room with your heads bowed together. Vernon watches with bemusement as the two of you trade incoherent mumblings about Tigger and Pompompurin.

Not that Vernon has any idea what those have to do with anything.

☑ You exchange knowing glances from across the room ☑ You share inside jokes about work and life

“Hey, Lee Chan, where’s your work wife?”

Chan doesn’t miss a beat. “She’s in a meeting with finance,” he answers without even looking up from his keyboard.

A corner of Vernon’s lip twitches upward. Aha.

Chan seems to pick up on Vernon’s smug silence. The younger boy’s head snaps up, his expression quickly becoming guarded. “Not my work wife,” Chan sputters. “Just— I knew where she was, okay?”

“Riiight.”

There’s a redness in the tips of Chan’s ears as he goes back to the Google Doc he’d been slaving away on. Vernon doesn’t say anything more, but he does feign like he’s texting someone instead of adding to his ever-growing list.

☑ Your other colleagues wonder where the other’s at when you’re not together

It’s a bit of an epilogue in its own right, how Chan is the one to know why you’re out for the morning.

The CEO had asked it mostly as a rhetorical question— has anyone seen her?— but Chan’s easy answer has the meeting coming to a stuttering halt.

“She got stuck at her dentist’s appointment,” he says.

Several pairs of eyes turn to Chan. The look on his face is comically caught.

He fumbles for his phone and waves it around awkwardly. “We were texting,” he adds hastily. “That’s why I know.”

How that was supposed to help Chan’s case, Vernon has no idea.

“Well, tell her that we hope she gets better soon,” the CEO says coolly. A corner of her lip is upturned, like she’s finding this entire interaction a little too amusing.

Chan manages a mumbled “Will do.”

The meeting pushes through. Vernon watches Chan from the corner of his eye. Aside from looking absolutely mortified, there’s just a bit of dullness to the latter’s demeanor. A slower uptake, a dimmer grin.

Gee, Vernon muses as he types away on his laptop. Wonder why.

☑ You’re kind of bummed when they’re out of office ☑ You cover for each other when one is MIA

Vernon’s running list is a fun little gig, but it all comes to head on the evening of the company’s monthly night out.

The table at the speakeasy is full of boisterous laughter and greasy finger food. Everyone’s in high spirits for the upcoming weekend, and Vernon has to hold back on teasing those who he thinks are having just a little too much fun.

You and Chan have spent much of the evening acting like you’re in your own world. Sure, you’re not touching each other— this is technically a work event, after all— but you’ve shared laughter and whispers throughout the night that nobody else is privy to.

It’s obvious to anybody with two eyes that you two are fond of each other. That much is certain.

That’s what gives Vernon the boost of confidence to play wingman by the end of the night.

“You know,” he says coolly as your group spills out onto the sidewalk. “I think the two of you live in the same neighborhood.”

What Vernon is scheming is plain as day to you. You narrow your eyes at him, but he’s undeterred. He only smiles at you and Chan like the menace that he is.

Chan, for his part, raises his eyebrows ever so slightly. He glances at you with a quizzical expression.

“You’ve never mentioned that.” He raises his hand to his chest, as if feigning hurt at being kept in the dark.

A snort of laughter escapes you. “Didn’t feel like it was particularly important information,” you say dryly.

“Of course it’s important!” Chan’s always been a little louder when he’s drunk, so his voice raises an octave or two. “‘Cause that means we can carpool together, or, like, y’know—”

Vernon interrupts with a sage, “You can probably book the same cab for tonight, actually. Make it a double stop.”

Chan’s face lights up. “Great idea, man!”

Before you can protest, Chan is already whipping out his phone to pull up his ride-hailing app. This is not a battle that you’re going to win.

All the while, Vernon grins triumphantly.

☑ You go home together after happy hour

“Can we—”

“Shhh. No, not yet.”

“But nobody’s looking!”

“Wait until we’ve rounded the corner, idiot—”

And so he does.

You can’t help the giggle that escapes you. The feeling is mutual, though, so you reach out to rest your hand on his knee.

“Commendable self-control tonight,” you note. “All the whispering was a little too obvious, though.”

Chan huffs in protest, but the sound loses its edge as he cuddles up to you in the back of the cab. “No one suspects us. It’s just Vernon,” he complains.

“And Seungkwan,” you say. “And Jeonghan, and Minghao, and Wonwoo—”

Your boyfriend gives a dismissive wave of his hand. “Doesn’t matter.” His hand rests on top of yours, just barely resisting the urge to intertwine your fingers. “They don’t know a thing about us, sweets.”

The smile threatening to fill your face finally breaks. When you laugh, your shoulders shake against Chan’s body. You’re not sure if he’s entirely right— you know of Vernon’s whole iPhone note, after all— but you’re willing to indulge your boyfriend if it makes him happy.

“Yeah,” you concede. “They don’t know a thing.”

#chanranghaeys reblog #chanranghaeys moots #hani yaps #oh yeah hani yaps A LOT HERE

313 notes · View notes

genderqueerdykes · 2 days ago

Note

I don’t feel like a human… but I don’t know what else I’d be either? Any advice? Thanks!! Love ur blog btw <33

i can give some general non/alterhuman questioning advice!

are there any species of animals, aliens, fictional species or characters, machines, objects, plants/flora, vampires, or mythological creatures you've found yourself feeling drawn toward in a way that isn't attraction, but rather feels like a very deep personal connection?

take it slow and examine why it is you don't feel human. maybe you don't like the body you're in. maybe you don't understand how humans think and feel. maybe you feel like you belong in another time, place, or setting. maybe you feel as though you're not from this planet. maybe you feel as though you belong in nature. maybe you feel you've lived another person's life before.

are there any body parts you're specifically dysphoric about having or not having? have you ever felt like you should have a tail, paws, ears, claws, scales, wings, horns, fangs, a muzzle, different eyes, different legs, should be walking on all fours, and so on? have you ever found yourself really wishing you could change certain features of your body that aren't necessarily related to gender?

do you feel any particularly strong connections to nature, space, fictional or mythological settings? if so, why do you feel connected and how does that relate to you?

do you have any animalistic or nonhuman gestures that you find yourself frequently making? perhaps you like to walk on all fours, perhaps you like to bark, meow, growl, hiss, moo, oink, snort, whinny, or make other nonhuman sounds. maybe you like to pretend l like you're wandering around behaving like a nonhuman animal. maybe you eat food in a certain way that reminds you of how an animal or other creature eats.

do you feel as though you have spiritual connections to any other species or fictional individuals but don't know how to explain it? instead of appropriating spirit animals if you are not indigenous, you may be otherkin, therian, nonhuman, or alterhuman instead

do you find yourself gravitating towards videos, books, shows, movies, or other media about a specific type of animal, creature, or person?

do you find yourself collecting items or making art about specific species, creatures, and so on? do you find you have a lot of items or collect a lot of art of a specific animal, creature, or fictional character? do you find that you're instantly drawn to specific nonhuman animals when you're out in the world? do you notice certain animals more than others? do you find yourself wanting to interact with specific animals more than others?

you can also take the time to learn more about animals, nature, fictional settings, space, the ocean, or whatever else it is you'd like to look into for your possible identity! just learning about nonhuman creatures and animals can be very fun, and may expose you to new species and creatures you've never heard of before. sometimes it takes process of elimination before one figures it out

some people suggest meditation in order to figure it out, but this will vary from person to person. not every person benefits from meditation, and not every meditation session is going to help you understand that part of yourself. it can be a very affective tool, but i'm gonna say this one, people's mileage varies wildly. you can also make assumptions about something you've uncovered during a meditation session and make an incorrect call by something that showed up just briefly in your mind while meditating

this is not a comprehensive list by any means, but i hope it helps somewhat! feel free to ask any specific questions you may have about being nonhuman or alterhuman! i'm always happy to talk about this! take care for now, good luck sorting things out!

#asks #answers #nonhuman #otherkin #therian #alterhuman #fictionkin

65 notes · View notes

igotanidea · 2 days ago

Text

(7) Cheater: Dick Grayson x reader

part 1/ part 2 / part 3 / part 4/ part 5 / part 6

A/N: ladies and gentlemen I give you : THE FINALE! happy early b-day @pookieisme4life 🎁🎁 (I was about to wait till 24th but it turned out impossible I am so excited to post it!!!)

***

„Who the hell are you?”

Honestly, he could care less about the ID of the mystery person, nor he hoped for the actual answer, but the initial shock did just that.

They were driving towards some unknown destination that was allegedly the location of the place Y/N was taken to.

“Nice try, Nightwing. Keep dreaming” the person, who was already deemed as a woman, laughed, swirling abruptly yet skillfully.

“Seriously you can’t just expect me to address you in a hey, you way.”

“Valid point. For the sake of it, let’s settle on calling me Shadow.”

“Fine. Whatever. Now why are you helping me?”

“I did some bad things In my life. Maybe this is my way of making up for them.”

“Huh. Seeking redemption?”

“Pretty nice trope, isn’t it?” she laughed. It was actually pretty nice to be able to use humor even in dire situations. “I was always a sucker for the character who wants to do better in their life.”

“Yeah. At least you chose a better way to do so than my brother.”

“You mean Red Hood?”

“For someone I don’t know shit about, you seem awfully knowledgeable about my family ties.”

“Intel is everything, Nightwing. And yes, I know what your other brother, Red Robin, might say.”

“Who the hell are you?!” At this point Dick was really getting curious.

“A friend.” She responded, looking right at him, her eyes shining from behind the mask.

***

“Let me go!!”

“Easy princess. Behave or this might actually get worse for you.”

“LET ME GO!!” she struggled against the binding on her wrist and the sack put on her head.

“What did I tell you, you bitch!?” She was abruptly pulled out of the car and thrown onto the ground. “Do you have a death wish?!”

“Fuck you!”

“If I were you, I’d cooperate, you little slut. Otherwise we might have to scar that pretty face of yours more than it’s necessary.”

With a sharp movement the sack was torn off her head and she had to squint her eyes from the light that hit her eyes with excessive force, reinforced by the fact she had just spent god knows how much time in a dark car with eyes covered.

“Shit…” there was no possibility to hold back the hiss and a few tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Yes. Yes sunshine, you’re in deep shit.” The kidnapper kneeled to her level and caressed her cheek in a condescending gesture, obviously misreading her tears as a sign of fear and submission. “So pretty…”

“Piss off!” she acted instinctively, ending up with a slap on the cheek and stinging sensation that only added to her anger.

“Didn’t I tell you to behave?”

“I had a stinking sack on my head, maybe there was something wrong with my hearing at the time and – “ her head spun to the side as another slap, this time far harder landed on her cheek.

“Well you definitely heard me now. And if you didn’t I won’t hesitate to remind you again. Now get up, we’re taking you to the boss.”

Great.

She was in a freaking video game, when two brainless thugs captured her for a reason that was still a mystery to her and was now taking her to the den of a final boss on the level.

***

“Y/N Y/L/N.”

Should she even be surprised that said den had a design of a video game? Dark, cold, adjourned with different kinds of weapons scattered here and there, huge desk in the middle and three monitors that took up the entire wall?

Almost grotesque.

But hey, who was she to judge the taste of Gotham’s criminals, right?

She probably should have been terrified, praying to every higher power to be saved by Batman, Red Hood, Robin or – damn – even Poison Ivy in the worst case, but for some reason she couldn’t bring herself to that particular emotion. It was like her brain refused to anchor in reality and everything turned into a freaking dream she was sure to wake up from any second now.

Though maybe getting back to reality in which Dick was still with Sienna and she was brokenhearted wasn’t really a good alternative.

Right. Dick.

Did he even notice her gone? Or was he too busy patching things up with his girlfriend, already forgetting about Y/N? The girl he claimed to love?

A kick in the back of the knees that send her to the floor (again) made her realize that while getting lost in her thoughts she missed the obviously very important and very detailed speech of the villain who was describing his wicked plan to take over the world and –

“Ouch!”

“Stupid bitch.”

“It hurts!” she tried to squirm away from the kicking but it was immensely hard with her hands still bound.

“Hold the fire, boys. Easy. The lady is our guest after all and this is not how we treat guests, is it?” The goons chuckled darkly, because clearly guests were deserving of a far more cruel and brutal treatment. “Now, now, don’t be scared little one. We won’t hurt you. Much. At least not until you give us what we want.”

The owner of a deep, husky voice, who clearly was the host of the party finally decided to step forward and show his face.

Well.

Not exactly showing his face.

***

“Could you at least tell me who we’re dealing with here?!” Dick muttered, keeping his voice low as he and Shadow pulled at the abandoned building on the outskirts of Gotham. “Do you even know?”

“Why? Does it matter?” Shadow joked “Would you use a different contingency plan for Riddler and another one for Two Face?”

“Could you please stop joking about it? This is my girlfriend we’re talking about!”

The emotions started to come to the surface, and Nightwing started becoming uncharacteristically scatter-brained.

“Idiot. Keep it down!” Shadow hissed, pulling him behind the corridor crease, miraculously avoiding the watchful gaze of the guardian. “Here’s what I get for putting myself at risk. Nightwing announcing his presence to the entire compound filled with criminals. Get yourself together. Or is it too hard for you?!”

Dick grimaced. He hated himself at the moment. For both losing his cool, especially in front of someone who could hold it against him and for missing on precious time since every second counted.

“Y/N. Think about Y/N.” he muttered to himself “She needs your help. Now more than ever.”

He took a few deep breaths, calming down the storm inside him to the point where he was actually in control and capable of turning the fear and concern into anger.

If anyone touched his Y/N….

“You back?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m back.” He opened his eyes, completely focused, eyes sharp, instincts on high alert. “Tell me who’s the fucker who dared to take her.”

“Black Mask.”

“Fucker.” The word left Dick’s lips without the involvement of his brain. That was how much he loved her. The golden boy, teasing, joking and playful nightwing turned into a machine, swearing and ready to freaking kill, almost Red Hood like.

“So? Ready to kick some asses?”

“After you.” The predatory smirk blooming on his face was a sign of incoming violence and spilling blood.

***

Her screams mixed with the ones coming from the corridor in a beautiful, gory cacophony of sounds. An ode painted with blood and pain. Maybe that was why for a longer moment no one in the room actually paid attention nor was willing to try and differentiate the sources of notes in the song.

Or maybe it was the fact that the goons’ cries were extremely high-pitched, almost reaching the same key as the yelling of a woman trapped in the torture machine, losing strength with every passing second.

“Oh no, no, no, no.” Black Mask laughed cruelly “you don’t get to pass out on me yet. Info first.” The iron grip on her wrist tightened even more, as if that was even possible, cutting into skin and muscle, amplifying the blood loss.

For the last whatever-time-passed she was kept on the edge of consciousness as if Black Mask was hoping that choking, hurting and injecting with some substance would cause her to lose inhibitions and finally blurt out the information he was so dead set on getting.

Who is Nightwing.

Who is Batman.

Any piece of information would turn out to be useful, but since the beginning of the questioning it became painfully clear that that stupid girl was either too weak or too strong to answer.

Too weak because it seemed that even the slightest amount of pain made her repeatedly pass out and too strong because on those intermittent periods where she actually was conscious and aware of the surroundings enough to talk was the one making her extremely stubborn and uncooperative.

And Black Mask was losing his patience.

Here he was, gracing that little scum with his presence instead of submitting her to the treatment of his lower men, with less than gracious methods and she had the audacity to be bratty.

A vicious circle in which he was using the moments to get information only to be refused, beating her again and ending up with a thoughtless body, achieving nothing, over and over again.

He should have just stuck to using his rat, skillfully planted in Gotham.

“Fuck!” he yelled seeing as once again she went limp on the chair only because he pulled her nail. “Stupid bitch!”

“Mmmmm…” Y/N muttered and for a moment the room was completely quiet save from her little whimpering.

And then –

“OUCH!”

“FUCK!”

“RETREAT!”

“The hell?” Black Mask walked to the door and looked through the peephole. “Fuck!” Seeing his guards and men being thrown in different directions, sounds of yelling and snapping bones alongside with blood streaming on the floor was not the best view before 7 p.m. and definitely not the best without his favorite drink. Under any other circumstances he would be giving zero fucks about the violence outside the safe door, but now – he had a plan to complete and no one, fucking no one would prevent him from succeeding.

The loud sound of a door’s guard crashing with the metal surface and pictorially sliding down with crushed skull caused Sionis to quickly recalibrate his plan.

Seemed like Red Hood was in the house. And not that Sionis was scared, but-

“Hold them back!” he yelled, grabbing the limp body of Y/N and rushing towards the safety exit, to the roof where his private jet was landed just in case of emergencies.

And this was clearly an emergency.

***

The door broke about 30 seconds after Black Mask rushed to the passage.

“You carry explosives with you everywhere?” Dick muttered, equally impressed and shocked.

“What? It comes in handy and -”

“AAAAH!” Both goons rushed at the two vigilantes before Shadow could finish a sentence, but their brave loud cries quickly turned to quiet, broken sobbing as they were laid down.

“Be a sweetheart and tell me where he went?” Nightwing leaned over the goon with an almost soft smile.

“mhm…” inert waving towards the passage was enough of an answer.

“Good boy. Thanks.”

***

“NO!!” she yelled as Black Mask was dragging her through the roof. Sudden realization of all the things that could go wrong making her much more valiant and strong. As long as she was still in Gotham and not exported to another city or – god forbid – country – could result in being deemed as another missing-without-trail- person.

That is – if someone was even looking for her in the first place.

Tears pricked in the corner of her eyes at the thought that she could be so easily forgotten.

And the terror she was holding back for so long, since the moment of being dragged into that black SUV, finally found a way out…

“NIGHTWING!!!”

***

“Y/N!!”

A dead man would hear that cry and even a dead man would rise from the dead at the sheer desperation beaming from the voice.

“Y/N!!! I’m coming!”

***

“You’re becoming a trouble!” Black Mask hissed, slapping her repeatedly, drawing another stream of blood this time from the broken lip.

“I – “

“I’m so done with you. Should have just killed you the second you turned out to be of zero significance to the cause. Now come here you little bitch-“

“No!!”

She blindly started to run away, only to trip (obviously) and ending up back in Sionis’ grip.

“NO!!”

He was too strong and she was too scared and stiff to fight anymore. Digging heels into the ground did no harm and was definitely no hindrance in being pulled towards the ledge of the 10-stories building.

“NO!!!!”

“Y/N!!”

Both the girl and Sionis froze for a moment as another male voice cut into the screaming match.

But it was too late.

***

“Go!” Shadow was probably the only one who didn’t lose cold blood. “GO!”

***

She was falling.

And it was beautiful.

Knowing that she would finally be free of all the pain, of all the heartbreak, of the guilt coming with betraying another girl by sleeping with someone else’s boyfriend. Liberated from being stuck in the memories of the past when she was actually happy, before everything went to shit.

“I love you Dick…” she whispered, finally crashing to the ground.

***

“Who the hell are you?!”

“Oh, come on, not this again!” Shadow hissed, extremely dissatisfied with the fact that everyone she encountered was far more interested in getting to know her personality, rather than fearing her killer skills.

For Black Mask it took a record time of ten minutes before calling defeat and ending up bound and being taken by the GCPD.

***

“Y/N.”

She opened one eye and much to her surprise found out that she was not a celestial body looking at her bloodied pulp of a body on the pavement.

“I love you too…” the warm embrace around her was welcomed but in time started to become a little suffocating and her battered body refused to be squeezed.

“Dickie…”

“Shh… shh, I got you.” He whispered again, caressing her hair, kissing her forehead, doing everything to assure both her and himself that it was all over and that he got her, that she was safe and he would never let it happen again. Never.

“H-How? W-what happened-? I – I thought-“

“You thought so little of me, didn’t you?”

“Idiot.”

“Hey!”

“Fucking prick! I swear if it wasn’t for this – “ she swung her injured arm in the air “I’d slap the hell out of you!”

“I saved you!”

“I almost died and you’re making jokes!”

Oh. Right. Maybe, just maybe given the circumstances it was slightly inappropriate.

“Sorry.”

“Yeah. You better.” She pouted, but he knew better, wiping the unshed tears. “It’s over.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“What happened?”

“I’m an acrobat, remember? I jumped. And damn, I wish someone had that on video because it was really one of my best – Ouch! Ouch! Ok, ok! Stop it! Point taken!”

***

“How are we doing here?”

Once Sionis was seated in the back of a police car, hands were shaken and words of gratitude exchanged Shadow walked towards Dick and Y/n.

“I think she’ll live.” Dick teased with a smirk, predictably moving a safe distance away from his -- .

Right.

Maybe there was no happy ending after all with that messed up relationship thing hanging over their heads like a freaking axe.

“Can’t say the same about Nightwing though” Y/N pushed the thought away, settling on sending him a death stare for making fun of her again.

“Good. I’m glad.”

“I think you made up for whatever crime you were trying to redeem, Shadow. Thank you. I owe you. You saved my –“

“Girlfriend?” Shadow prompted, looking between Y/N and Dick, making them both blush in a bit of embarrassment.

“It’s complicated-“ they both said at the same time.

“Oh, trust me, it’s not complicated at all!” Shadow laughed

“What do you mean? You don’t know-“

“I know more than you think. Haven’t I proved that already?” Shadow turned around, making sure no one was watching and slowly took of her mask.

***

Fast forward. One week later.

Y/N was walking out of the hospital. It seemed like her arm was healing nicely and there were no complications, though her doctor was very stern while telling her she was supposed to rest and not get herself involved in any form of physical activity.

If he only knew that she was in a relationship with Gotham’s and Bludhaven vigilante.

“Y/N!”

Speaking of which, said vigilante was now honking at her from his Porsche.

“Showoff!”

“Get in loser, we’re going shopping!

She laughed and jumped inside the vehicle.

“You’re supposed to hold the doors open for me!”

“Mh. Missed you too, sunshine.” He leaned over the gearbox kissing her with a cheeky grin. “How’s the hand?”

“She’ll live.”

“Quoting me already, princess? Careful, I might think you consider me a superstar or something.”

“Idiot!”

“Ouch! You’re hurting me. But I’m willing to forgive you, giving the circumstances of late.”

He started the engine and took the way to the city.

“Yeah. Crazy, right?” her head fell onto the car’s headrest and she sighed heavily. “I mean – who would have thought…”

***

Flashback

“S-Sienna!?”

“Hey you two.”

“h-hey? What do you mean “hey”?! What is this?! Some sick joke?!”

In her stupor Y/N missed the fact that Dick was as shocked (if not more) as her. Hence it couldn’t have been any conspiracy against Y/N’s mental health.

“Whoa! Whoa! Relax!” Shadow Sienna raised her hands in surrender “Dick-“

“The hell?! How do you know? Damn it-!” he forgot about all the rules of safety and tore off his mask. Getting to the bottom of this shit was far more important.

“- I meant what I said. Really! About that redemption arc! Just – just listen to me!”

“Five minutes.”

“It was all a scheme-“

“Well let me tell you, your explanation is starting off the wrong foot” Dick groaned, pulling Y/N to his side to strengthen her mentally.

“I am Black Mask’s niece in the second line!” Sienna explained dramatically “wait-! Wait-! I have no loyalty to him! Not anymore!”

“One minute left.” Dick hissed

“It was all a plan. He had some vague idea about the ties between the one Dick Grayson and Batman and Y/N and wanted to use all of you against each other.”

“Thirty seconds.”

“Yes, fine! I was his spy for a moment, but then you two-. God! You love each other! And I just couldn’t- I couldn’t-“

Y/N wriggled out of Dick’s embrace and walked to Sienna, grabbing both her hands in her healthy one.

“Thank you.”

End of flashback

***

“I really hope you took your golden visa with you, cause I am about to go crazy with this shopping spree.”

“Hey. No limits on Bruce’s cards. He won’t even notice the loss of a couple thousands and I got my girl back, so-“

“I think we should send-“

“I already took care of that.”

After all the trouble and drama they got their happy ending.

***

In another part of town a certain girl found a fruit and sweet basket on her doorstep. With a little, but meaningful card.

It seemed like she found her happy ending too.

One in which she was no longer used by anyone and treated as a villain.

With the view for a future of freedom.

@miraculous-panic @fullbelieverheart @xlatinaaxx @ietss @arfrona

@gracescor3 @jaysgirlx @fuzzym4m4 @peachmartini @xenop0p @madness1999sworld

@leovergurl

#dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #dick grayson x you #nightwing x you #nightwing x y/n #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson angst #nightwing angst

43 notes · View notes

lichenes · 2 days ago

Note

I would looove a part two to the flowershop owner x könig story! It's amazing, I got so immersed into the story :)

blacked out and wrote 600 words... i'm glad you liked it anon ;_;!! hope you like this one too :D!! enjoy :^ (pt. 2 to this) CW: kissing mentioned, pining, sfw :D wc: 601 . * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚ . * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚. * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚. * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚. * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚

You haven’t seen the obscenely tall man in quite a while, you assumed the bouquet you sold him worked a little too well on the neighbour and he moved on from your dainty flower shop and well… from you. To your surprise - as if he felt you beckoning him in your mind - he appeared later that day. You were just attending a customer when he came through the glass door. “Thank you!” You called absentmindedly out after the person leaving the store. To be frank you were focused on something entirely different.

König wasn’t sure what to say except for a polite greeting. Looking around the shop he found himself questioning his true intentions. Surely a person this quaint wasn’t interested in men of his nature. He felt your gaze on him. You were following his quick and precise movements with your eyes soaking up as much of him as you could.

“Beautiful.” He said when he turned his head towards you. You felt your face heat up as he scrambled to finish his sentence. “The flowers! I mean the flowers. How- how do you keep them so uh… nice?” You chuckled slightly at his awkward comment and proceeded to explain everything from waking up at ungodly hours to get them fresh up until the tiring must of watering all of them. He kept nodding and put a hand on his covered chin.

He asked some follow up questions after that, not realising he was leaning towards you. You didn’t mind one bit but when he was almost bent over with his elbows on the counter he snapped out of it with a quick apology and his hand landing on the back of his head with an anxious demeanour. “Sorry for the barrage I-” He tried to explain himself. “Hey no need to apologise big guy, you’re alright!! I’m glad you find this interesting.”

And then an idea came to your mind. “Hey would you… um-” It was your turn to become overzealous. He nodded his head in a silent coax. “You’re retired right?” He confirmed with another nod. He wasn’t the diplomatic kind but you brought out the most anxious and self-aware parts of him. “Would you like to help out with the shop? I mean you don’t have to but I’d love some help and you seem like a strong guy and-” You were losing yourself in the question but he interrupted you quickly with a stern affirmation. “O-oh! That’s great!”

“Just one more thing.” He tilted his head in slight confusion, curious at what you would say next. “What’s your name?”

He- well, Alexander, was used to waking up in the early hours of the day, due to his long military service, so he was more than happy to help you pick out the flowers for the day. He offered to pick you up and it just became a routine for both of you to meet up at your apartment and drive to the flower market.

“Mornin’.” You said half asleep getting into his car. “Good morning.” Alex said, looking you up and down. You noticed, god how you always noticed. “Like what you see?” You said only half-jokingly. His throat suddenly went dry when he fully took in what you were wearing. Even in sweatpants and an overly large coat you looked stunning.

Suddenly an urge overwhelmed him. “I need to tell you something, mein schätz.”

The next few minutes were filled with words, words that couldn’t stay unspoken and fervent kisses, backed up by weeks of pining.

And that day, your flower shop stayed closed.

. * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚ . * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚. * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚. * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚. * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚ masterlist

#x reader #writing #fluff #konig cod #konig x reader #könig mw2 #könig x reader #könig cod #könig call of duty #könig #Alexander “König” Kilgore

37 notes · View notes

indieyuugure · 18 hours ago

Note

Hiii! Im doing a essay about ROTTMNT and TMNT do you have any ideas whatt ill do?

lol 😂 oh dear this seems a tad urgent.

Hm, well personally I would consider covering the both positive and accurate homeschooler representation in TMNT. It’s often overlooked but is really actually incredibly good and a deeper topic than maybe like art style.

A lot of media paints homeschoolers extremely inaccurately and often negatively. I can’t tell you how many times the “homeschooled” character’s in media are 2D friendless plain toast people with personalities that are literally just that they don’t go to school and it’s so incredibly insulting! But TMNT doesn’t do this!

I’ll tell you, as a homeschooler myself and having met NUMEROUS others, homeschoolers are wild, they’re full of personality and big dreams, often they have no interest in attending “normal school” and are usually better educated, they’re best friends with their siblings and very close with their parents, and actually tend to have more meaningful and lasting friendships than other kids.

All of these things is the TMNT is and it makes me so happy to have good representation that’s not loud and preaching but just subtly there because THAT’S HOW IT IS.

There are exceptions to everything I just listed—I can think of one person for just about every exception—but TMNT does a fantastic job of explaining in a lowkey way that homeschoolers aren’t aliens from another planet, they’re kids just like everyone else.

So anyway 😅 now that I’ve written my own rant, hopefully you’ll find that useful at all.

Other good topics could be the franchise’s themes of acceptance and learning to see beyond an outer appearance which as a show targeted towards children is a very good thing to learn (seriously children are the judgiest little things).

Another could be the franchise’s history from gritty young adult comics to colorful children’s cartoons.

You could also do something with the shows portrayal of positive familial relationships since most television often depicts siblings as annoying irritants and parents as unfeeling dictators, and while those are aspects of family life, they never show the positive things like unconditional love, and loyalty and understanding and very deep togetherness.

Hopefully any of this is useful, I’d recommend maybe asking a few other people for ideas (if you haven’t already) so you can get a wider selection of view points and of course more ideas 👍

#tmnt #q&a #essay #essay topics #Good luck on your project!

33 notes · View notes

theocddiaries · 13 hours ago

Text

Shadow: Honestly, you've always known what to say and helped me a lot. Sonic: It's nothing. Anyone would have done the same. Shadow: You know that's not true. Everyone here looks at me with fear. Rightfully so. You're one of the few who has never done that and tried to include me. Thank you for the effort. Sonic: It wasn't any effort. Shadow: Hm. [gives him a peck on the cheek]: Good night. [leaves] Sonic: Yeah, night… um… [runs to his house] --- [Shadow arrives home, where Rouge is lying on the couch watching TV] Shadow: Rouge. Rouge: I'm watching TV. Shadow: I kissed Sonic. Rouge [turns off the TV and sits up]: Come on, sit with me and tell me everything! --- [Sonic has arrived home and is telling his brothers and Amy] Sonic: It was just a peck. Knuckles: Did you like it? Sonic: I think so. Tails: Damn it. Amy: Shut up! --- Rouge: Talk! What else happened??? Shadow: Nothing else happened. He just looked at me and I left. I think I shouldn't have done it. But I like him. He's always kind, efficient in the field, remembers personal details about me… Rouge: I'm so happy for you that that sounds like the most romantic thing I've ever heard. Shadow: But I don't want to pressure him. I just wish I could talk to him about it. Rouge: Well, don't worry about that, I've seen Blue strike up a conversation with the ATM. --- Sonic: I don't know what to say to him. Tails: 'No' is a nice word. Amy: Tails, stop. Knuckles: Sonic, what do you want to do? Sonic: Well… not mess it up. Like I almost did with Amy. Amy: Sonic, that was different. We weren't compatible in that sense. Sonic: And how do I know if I am with Shadow? I don't want him to think there's something wrong with him, or worse, that he realises there's something wrong with me. Knuckles: There's nothing wrong with you. Tails: Just your taste. Amy: He's very lucky to have such a supportive brother. --- Rouge [typing on Shadow's phone]: You're so lucky to have such a gossip sister. This is my element. Shadow: What are you typing? Don't send it without letting me see it fir-- Rouge: Sent. [hands the phone back to him] Shadow [frowns] Rouge: You're welcome! --- Sonic: He sent me a message. Amy: What does it say, what does it say? Sonic: "I'd like to talk to you. I don't want to pressure you. Tell me when you're ready." Tails: Well, okay, he's earned some points. Amy: Oh, how cute, let me see-- Sonic: Wait, I closed it… damn, I gave him a missed call! --- Rouge: Oh, look, he gave you a missed call! How cute. That's a good sign. Shadow: You think so? Rouge: Of course. Shadow: So what should I do? Keep talking to him or wait for him to sort things out? --- Sonic: What should I do now? Talk to him or wait it out? I can't sort it out. Amy: Think about what you'd like. Sonic: I’d like to be more than friends, but I don’t like the idea of a conventional relationship. Knuckles: If it helps, I don't think Shadow does either. Amy: I think that's your sign. Tails: Why don’t you make a list of pros and cons? --- Shadow: I like lists. Thank you, Rouge. Rouge: Anytime, sweetheart. [Phone beeps] Rouge: Oh, another missed call! Put that in the pros. --- Sonic: Stupid phone! Someone take this thing away from me!!!! Here, just hide it under a cushion where it can't make me mess it up more!

#incorrect quotes #sth #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #sonadow #rouge the bat #amy rose #knuckles the echidna #tails the fox #miles tails prower

29 notes · View notes

novascharms · 15 hours ago

Text

MY STRANGE ADDICTION - RAFE CAMERON

dealer! rafe cameron x maddy perez

Maddy Perez has never been addicted to drugs—nor will she ever be. Her only addiction is the campus dealer she just can't seem to shake off and no matter how hard she tries to break free, she keeps getting pulled back into his orbit.

masterlist w.c — 4.0 c.w — smut, p in v a.n — choosing to continue this cause i got two free weeks and like lots of ideas abt these two for someee reason. lets ignore that rafe would actually off himself if he had to deal with maddy hihi :)

maddy goes to a party with nate and guess who's there? our very own campus dealer

Maddy’s gaze was fixed on Nate, though her attention was split in too many directions to keep track of. SZA’s smooth voice floated through the speakers, the music blending with the background chatter of the party. Nate was talking—something about football or his job—but his words felt like static. Her mind wandered, her eyes constantly flicking around, scanning the crowd. She hated how automatic it was, this ridiculous, involuntary search her brain always seemed to conduct.

She forced herself to focus, blinking hard as if to clear the fog clouding her thoughts. Nate’s voice filtered back in. “—think I’ll be moving up in ranks pretty soon,” he finished, his tone proud.

Maddy nodded, plastering on a polite smile, though she had no idea what “ranks” he was even referring to. “That’s great. I’m happy for you. Sounds like things are going well.”

Her tone was effortless, practiced, and Nate seemed satisfied with her response. He leaned in, adjusting the strap of her slightly crumpled bikini top with the kind of familiarity she used to find endearing. Once, his boldness might have been attractive, thrilling even. Now, it was just…irritating. Her instincts told her to pull back, but she stopped herself. She’d come here with him, after all. His “date.”

“Are the others here yet?” Nate asked, scanning the crowd.

The answer hovered on her tongue, ready to be spoken, but she faltered. That chill along her spine was unmistakable, a sensation that set her on edge in an entirely different way. She didn’t have to look to know. It was him.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the blurred outlines of people entering the party. She couldn’t make out faces, only the edges of dark clothing and purposeful movements. Her body recognized him before her brain did.

Her gaze darted briefly to her outfit—a black bikini paired with an oversized white button-up for a pretense of modesty. She let out a shaky breath, willing herself to refocus. “They’re on their way,” she said lightly. “They wanted to pregame.”

Nate raised a brow, his expression curious. “Since when do you skip out on pregaming?”

Her pulse quickened, not from Nate’s question but from the pull she felt across the space between her and him. The boy who made her feel utterly insane. The one she wanted to shove down a flight of stairs whenever caught him with someone else.

“I don’t like drinking when I don’t know the host,” she said, her tone even. It wasn’t entirely untrue, though it wasn’t the real reason either.

Nate gave her a reassuring smile, leaning closer. “I’m here. You know I’d never let anything happen to you.”

She forced another smile. “I know. But still…better safe than sorry.” She tilted her cup slightly, letting the drink spill silently into the grass behind her before handing it to him. “Could you get me a refill?”

He nodded, his smile warm and easy, before disappearing toward the drink table.

The moment he was gone, Maddy turned on her pool chair, angling herself to face the water. A few people were swimming, but most lingered on the edges, laughing and chatting in tight groups.

Her phone buzzed against her leg, the vibration pulling her attention. Leaning back, she reached for it and opened the message.

Her eyes scanned the words briefly before instinctively looking up, searching for him. He had to be watching. He always was.

It didn’t take long to find him. He sat directly across from her on the far side of the pool, surrounded by his friends. And, as if drawn by some invisible force, his eyes were already on her.

That electric jolt hit her again, the same one it always did when their gazes locked. It was sharp, unmistakable, and it made her feel more alive than she cared to admit.

Not wanting to stare like an idiot, Maddy dropped her gaze back to her phone and began typing her reply.

Across the pool, he watched her with a faint smile tugging at his lips. He found this amusing, he'd always liked it when she was being bitchy. At least she was responding now—it was better than the stony silence she’d given him for weeks.

And that was true. She probably wouldn't fuck Nate. That was kinda gross.

“Here’s your refill. Sorry that took a minute,” Nate said as he sat down near her feet, holding out a plastic cup filled with something bright red.

Maddy clicked off her phone, tucking it between her thighs before reaching for the drink. “That’s okay, thank you.” She took a small sip, letting the artificial sweetness settle on her tongue.

For the first time all evening, Nate was quiet. Too quiet. Maddy glanced over, her brows knitting together when she noticed he wasn’t even looking at her. His gaze was fixed somewhere else.

“What?” she asked, her tone laced with impatience.

Nate didn’t answer right away. Instead, he gave a subtle nod toward something—or someone—in the distance. “He’s coming over here.”

Maddy didn’t need clarification. She already knew.

“He looks pissed,” Nate added, shifting uncomfortably.

Maddy narrowed her eyes, leaning back in her chair like she had all the time in the world. “He is,” she said casually, taking another sip of her drink. “I told him you called him a dog.”

Nate’s eyes went wide with panic. “What? Why would you do that?”

She smirked, savoring his reaction for just a moment too long. “I’m joking. Jesus, relax. He’s not a murderer.” She wasn’t entirely sure about that last part.

Before Nate could say anything else, Rafe’s looming presence was suddenly upon them. His large hands landed on Nate’s shoulders with enough force to make Nate flinch.

“Jacobs,” Rafe said, his voice low and heavy with unspoken authority.

Maddy rolled her eyes, leaning back further into the pool chair, feigning indifference as though she could actually ignore the scene unfolding in front of her.

Rafe didn’t say another word. He simply nodded his head to the side, a silent command for Nate to leave.

Nate didn’t even hesitate. He was gone in seconds, a move so predictable it almost made her laugh.

“You could’ve picked someone who made it feel a little like a competition,” Rafe said, lowering himself into the spot Nate had vacated.

Maddy let out a mock-hurt hum. “Your homeboys weren’t free, but I’ll definitely keep them in mind for next time.”

Rafe tilted his head, eyes narrowing at her before he chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s good. That’s really good.”

He shifted closer, his tone taking on a serious edge. “Are you done, though? Can we put an end to this, or do you want to keep stretching it out?”

Maddy tilted her head, playing dumb. “Clarify,” she said, her voice dripping with faux sweetness.

Rafe’s jaw tightened, irritation flashing in his eyes. “I’m going to ask you the same thing I asked you a month ago, yeah?” He leaned forward, his gaze pinning her in place. “What do you want? Because I’ve apologized—every damn day for the past three weeks—and I’ve spoiled you rotten. Even though you can’t even answer the fucking phone when I call.”

He leaned back, spreading his arms wide in a gesture of exasperation. “So what is it? You want me to get on my knees?”

The corner of Maddy’s mouth twitched, and she could feel the playful glint in her eyes betraying her. The idea didn’t sound bad at all.

Rafe caught her expression immediately and shook his head. “Don’t do the most, Maddy.”

She straightened up, sitting forward so that they were nearly nose-to-nose. “I’m going to tell you the same thing I told you a month ago, yeah?” she echoed back at him, mimicking his tone.

He waited, his gaze sharp and unyielding.

“I don’t want shit from you,” she said with a shrug, her voice light. “The gifts have been nice, though.”

She reached out and tapped the tip of his nose with her finger, the move so childish it bordered on petty. Then, without another word, she stood up and walked away.

Rafe stayed seated, watching her disappear into the crowd, his jaw tight with frustration. Maddy didn’t bother looking back. She had ten minutes to find Nate before her friends showed up—and she wasn’t about to waste them.

“Nate, let’s dance,” Maddy said, grabbing his hand and tugging him away from his friends. He hesitated for only a second, his gaze darting to the group he’d just left.

“I don’t want to get in the middle of shit, you know that,” he muttered, his voice low and uncertain.

Maddy sighed, rolling her eyes in visible irritation. “There isn’t shit to get in the middle of. Don’t worry about him.” Her tone was firm, dismissive, as if the mere mention of Rafe was beneath her.

Nate didn’t look entirely convinced, but when Maddy began to sway her hips to the pulsing beat of the music, his resistance faltered. Almost instinctively, his hands found her waist, his touch tentative at first but growing bolder as she moved against him.

The crowd around them thickened, bodies pressing together as the bass of the music thumped louder, rattling the walls. The heat in the room was almost stifling, a mix of sweat and cologne hanging heavy in the air. She pulled Nate closer, leaning up to brush her lips along the shell of his ear in a way that made him shiver.

Her eyes, however, were elsewhere.

Through the chaotic swirl of bodies, her gaze found him. Rafe sat with his friends, a pretty brunette perched on his lap, laughing at something he’d said. A joint dangled lazily between his fingers, though he seemed utterly uninterested in the girl giggling in his ear or the conversation happening around him.

His attention was fixed entirely on Maddy.

She felt the sharp thrill of his gaze, like electricity crackling along her skin. The corner of her mouth twitched upward in the faintest smirk.

Nate was speaking—something about how hot she looked, maybe—but Maddy barely registered his words. Instead, she cut him off mid-sentence, tugging him down to crash her lips against his.

Nate responded eagerly, his arms wrapping tighter around her as if he couldn’t get enough. He wasn’t the most compelling person she’d ever been with—far from it, actually. Everything about him was a stark contrast to Rafe: where Rafe was sharp and commanding, Nate was soft and accommodating. But he served his purpose.

Maddy let her hands trail up his chest, pulling him deeper into the moment. His hands slid lower, grazing her hips before resting on her ass. She let out a soft moan when he gave her a light squeeze, tilting her head just enough to draw him further in.

When she finally pulled back, her lips were slick and swollen, her breath mingling with his. Nate’s lips chased hers instantly, desperate and clumsy in his eagerness.

She giggled softly, brushing her fingers along his jaw. “Let’s go upstairs,” she murmured, her voice dripping with suggestion.

Nate didn’t need to be told twice. Grabbing her hand, he began weaving through the sea of bodies, his grip firm as he led her toward the stairs.

Nate had her pinned against the wall before they even made it to a room. His hands roamed her waist, gripping like he was afraid to lose his chance. The hallway was dimly lit, the muffled bass from downstairs vibrating through the walls. Maddy’s breath hitched—not from excitement, but from the sharp pang of regret she was trying to suppress.

It was a blur. One moment, Nate was in front of her, his lips brushing her neck. The next, he was ripped away with a force that made her stumble. Her eyes flew open, her back still pressed to the cool plaster, and there was Rafe.

He stood between her and Nate, broad-shouldered and seething, his jaw tight and his chest heaving. Nate, caught off guard, staggered before regaining his footing.

“You—” Rafe began, his voice low and dangerous, but he paused as Nate straightened and, to Maddy’s surprise, stepped forward with a spark of defiance.

“Don’t get any ideas, Jacobs,” Rafe warned, his tone dripping with disdain. His sharp blue eyes cut into Nate, daring him to react.

When he didn't leave, Rafe turned to Nate in surprise. "You need something?"

Nate didn’t flinch. His gaze flicked between Rafe and Maddy before he squared his shoulders. “If you don’t feel safe with him,” he said, his voice steady but charged, “I’m not leaving.”

Maddy didn’t need to look at Rafe to know that Nate had just lit the match.

“Do you want me to—” Rafe’s voice exploded, his body lurching forward like a coiled spring released. Maddy moved faster, her hand shooting out to grab his arm, halting him before he could make contact.

“Nate, go!” she barked, her voice slicing through the tension like a whip.

For a moment, Nate hesitated. His concern for her was evident, but so was his understanding of the situation. One second longer, and he turned, retreating down the hallway.

As soon as he was gone, Maddy spun on Rafe, shoving him hard in the chest. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” she demanded, her voice trembling with anger.

Rafe barely moved under her shove, his stance unyielding, his lips curling into a smirk that was as infuriating as it was amused. “What’s wrong with me?” he shot back, his voice loud enough to echo. “Isn't this exactly why the fuck you do this dumb shit? Don't act like you have any interest in that poor boy.”

“The only poor boy is the one I'm looking at right now,” Maddy snapped, her voice rising to meet his. “I don't see what the fuck the issue is since last I checked, you were nice and cosied up with your little friend by the pool."

Rafe’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing. “I’m not the one who showed up with someone on my arm,” he retorted, his words sharp. “You think that shits funny, grinding your ass all over him like a slut?”

The slap came before she could stop herself. The sound was deafening in the narrow hallway, sharp and precise like the crack of a whip. Rafe’s head jerked slightly, and for a fleeting moment, she saw the sting in his eyes before he masked it with that infuriating nonchalance.

“Did I cross a line?” he asked, his voice smooth but laced with mockery. His smirk returned, daring her to do it again.

“You’re a piece of shit, you know that?” Maddy spat, her voice trembling with fury. She stepped closer, invading his space and he nods slowly like he knows something she doesn't, "You say the same shit when your pussy is creaming on my dick."

Maddy didn't want to think about it, had been avoiding the image, the memory of sex with Rafe. But he'd brought it up now, rubbed it right in her face and she was faced with the undeniable truth that he was the best she'd ever had and he knew it. He was rubbing it in her face right now, he was always rubbing it in her face that no matter what he said and how he acted, she'd never say no.

Maddy’s mind betrayed her, conjuring memories she had buried deep. She could see it clearly now—the way he moved, the way he touched her, the way he made her lose herself entirely.

She must have let it show on her face because his smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

Maddy grabs him by the back of his neck before he can say something even more stupid and crushes her lips to his in a kiss that is somewhere between angry and desperate.

Rafe's got her legs wrapped around him in a flash, hands firmly on her ass as he walks them into the first room he can blindly find. Maddy's lips are coaxed open by the slide of his tongue as he slams the door closed behind them and shoves her back against the wall. She huffs at the force of his shove, "Be fucking gentle."

"Stop talking so fucking much." He grunted, mouth moving from her lips to her neck and Maddy couldn't surpress the moan that forced her way past her lips. She felt Rafe's eager fingers on the thin strap of her bikini bottom, "Don't you fucking dare rip those," She knew him all too well and these bottoms were the only clothing she had on her.

"Why? You seem to love the attention you've been getting lately." Rafe murmurs as his hand slides down to unzip his pants swiftly. She's pleased when he doesn't completely ignore her polite request and pushes her bikini to the side. Maddy whimpers, nails digging into his shoulder and back when she feels him press against her aching folds.

"Is this what you wanted, baby? This what you needed?" he whispered in a mocking voice as his tip tentatively pushes inside of Maddy's seeping cunt and her legs involuntarily tighten around him. "Now you wanna shut up, huh?" Rafe groans as he pushes inside of her and Maddy feels the air escape her lungs.

"God," Maddy whined, head falling back against the door as his stupidly big cock nestled itself deep inside her and the pleasure and pain takes her breath away. For a moment, she's not sure if breathing is still an option until he starts steadily moving and as with everything, Rafe does—it's rough and she can barely contain the moans that tumble out of her mouth.

His grip on her thighs is bruising and with every harsh thrust, her back is slamming back onto that door but she can't even find it in her to care. Her eyes flutter for a moment and she tries to keep them on him, tries to keep her focus because she can't deny that he looks so fucking good right now—all focused with groans and grunts escaping his lips as he hammers into her walls.

But it doesn't last, it can't when he's being this rough, fucking her into the door and making it impossible for her to focus on anything but the way he was pounding into her. "Fuck, baby. It's been too long, too fucking long.." He groans through gritted teeth, "Think anyone can fuck you like this? Think Jacobs can fuck you like this?" And Maddy's pathetic moans filling the room do little to keep him from trying to pick a fight with her like usual.

"Shut t-the f—"

"This is my fucking pussy," Rafe continues and each words is followed by a harsh thrust that pressed Maddy against the door over and over and Maddy's hands are trembling, scrambling to hold onto him, to assure she doesn't lose her grip with how weak her legs are starting to feel. "Mine. You're all mine, Maddy."

"Fuck you. I h-hate you.." Maddy cries out, legs tightening around Rafe because she doesn't belong to him or anyone but also because his dick is splitting her open and she can't decide wether she wants him to stop or keep going.

"Yeah, I know. You hate me so much you letting me pound your cunt. That's how much you hate me, huh?" Rafe laughs, his hands holding her up like he can feel she's about give out completely. Maddy's brain feels like it's short circuiting as Rafe goes at a pace too brutal to keep up with.

A couple of nasty words sit at the tip of her tongue for Rafe but they won't come out, a sentence refuses to form in her mind. "F-Fuck..fuck!" Maddy can't—won't ever get past how mindblowingly good the sex was.

"Mm, y-you..you're.." Maddy starts mumbling despite how her eyes are rolling back and she's seeing spots in her vision, "You're j-just some half-decent sex," Maddy chokes out and Rafe cocks his head at that, amused smirk on his lips. "Half decent?" he breathes out as Maddy clenches around his fat cock.

Maddy's about to make it worse, seconds away from telling him Nate has fucked her ten times better when he brutally pounds into her, "Rafe!" she screams as he repeatedly hits that sweet spot and she knows it's retaliation for calling their sex decent. It only makes Maddy want to say something worse.

She's gone though, whatever curse words she's throwing at him are coming out in blubbers and moans and with the way he's pounding into her, Maddy's surprised the door is still holding. "Mm..mmm..y-you you..y.." Maddy rambles absentmindedly, her words lost between the moans that are escaping her lips as Rafe's thrust only get sloppier and faster.

"Can barely get through your sentences, baby. You sure the sex is only half-decent?" He teases and Maddy knows that somewhere deep inside, that comment irritates her but right now, with his cock hammering into her, there is absolutely nothing that she cares about apart from the pit she can feel in her stomach right now.

Maddy whines, high and soft because the exhaustion is starting to catch up to her. She needs to come. "God, you look so fucking good right now, can't believe I lasted a month.." Rafe almost growls as his hips stutter and his own orgasm draws closer and closer. "Need it..n-need you.." Maddy moans before she feels herself being pushed over the edge and her blissful orgasm spills out of her. Rafe has a couple more thrusts in him before he's following suit and with a deep low groan, he's creaming inside of her.

For a few seconds, there was only silence between them, accompanied by the sound of their heavy breathing. Rafe’s forehead pressed against hers, a rare moment of calm between them both. It was a rare occurence in their particular situation—an interlude between their constant fighting or fucking. This moment, existing somewhere in the space between, might have been the closest they ever came to being normal.

The muffled roar of cheers and music swelled from downstairs, snapping the quiet like a rubber band. Rafe eased her back to the ground, and Maddy stepped away, her legs shaky but her resolve intact. She caught her reflection in the mirror, her makeup slightly smudged, hair tousled. Sighing, she adjusted herself as best she could.

A towel landed unceremoniously on her head, startling her. She turned, glaring at Rafe, who stood there with a half-smirk like he’d done her a favor.

“You expect me to wipe with this?” she asked, holding the towel up with a grimace. “Where did you even find it?”

“Too good for a towel now?” he mumbled, shaking his head as he reached for something else. He handed her a clean napkin with a smile.

She snatched it from him without a word, cleaning herself quickly before tossing it into the small trash bin by the dresser. When she straightened, he was behind her, his arm slipping loosely around her neck, his lips brushing her ear as he murmured, “Wanna get out of here?”

She did. God, she did. But instead of saying so, she turned, her expression hardening. “You can’t act like that toward Nate again. Or anyone,” she said firmly, her tone daring him to argue.

Rafe’s eyes rolled, the dismissive motion igniting her frustration. “Go fuck Jacobs if you think he’s such a saint,” he shot back mockingly, leaning against the wall like he owned the place.

Maddy raised a brow, the edge of her lips curling into a challenging smirk. “I don’t want to fuck Nate. But I can fuck him if I want to. That’s what I’m trying to make clear to you.”

His jaw tightened, his blue eyes flashing with something dark and unreadable. “I don’t need you to make shit clear to me,” he bit out, his voice low and rough.

Her own temper flared, her voice sharp enough to cut through the tension. “Watch your fucking mouth.”

And just like that, the delicate peace shattered.

Here they went again.

masterlist

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #maddy perez #outer banks #obx #euphoria #rafe fic #rafe smut #rafe cameron smut

24 notes · View notes

necropathys · 2 days ago

Note

Dream asking his two alternates if it'll ever be okay, and while Shattered responds with "Well, depends. Does this look okay to you?" Swad is like "No this would be better if Nighty was here!!"

He couldn’t recall lighting the cigarette. Couldn’t place the moment he even drew it from that rarely touched drawer—an old, half-broken thing stuffed with worthless trinkets and heartfelt gifts he couldn’t bring himself to throw away.

The taste scratched over his summoned tongue, stale and bitter. A distant voice in his head reminded him he shouldn’t be doing this indoors, not without a window open. The smoke would linger on every fabric, every wall.

“Oh no, you’re not going anywhere.”

A low, commanding rumble cut through the fugue. A single finger hooked beneath the collar circling his cervical spine, pulling—just enough force to tilt him back into place before he could stand.

“Stay.”

Any protest he had died in the back of his faux-throat. The voice, sharp and resonant with dark power, pinned him down as surely as the corruption glimmering gold-black in the corner of his vision.

For the briefest moment, his blurry gaze made that presence look like someone else entirely.

A hot palm found the crown of his skull, thumb stroking comforting circles where his cranium met neck bone. He inhaled, slow and careful, letting the smoke creep through his ribcage. The rhythmic swirl eased the tension wrapped around his shoulders.

“What did he say to you, Darling, hm?”

Sol’s voice was a purr, so close he practically melded into Dream’s chest. If he could slide under his ribs, burrow inside, he would. “It had to have been him, right? No one else could upset you like this. No one else could upset us so badly.”

(Was that his goal all along? He had devoured just as many apples as Nightmare, right? Maybe Dream’s would complete him. Maybe Dream was just another tool, just like he’d always been for everyone else.)

“I…” His voice cracked, painful and raw. The memory of his encounter struck him like a downpour, each drop pounding against his resolve, making his phalanges quake. He couldn’t bring himself to say the words aloud, yet they thundered in his mind, reverberating through his marrow.

He couldn’t bring himself to repeat them. The cruel words Nightmare had flung his way—he’d heard them before, over and over. They were nothing new. But today, they lodged beneath his bones and burned fiercer than ever, leaving him shaken and silent.

The apple wouldn’t let him cry. His eye sockets burned, but only tears of happiness could slip free—hollow and mocking in their forced cheer.

He closed his eyes, weariness crushing him. He was so tired of fighting.

He wanted to go home.

He missed his brother.

But he forced out a different question, voice trembling with a desperate hope he couldn’t hide. “Does it… get any better?” It felt impossible. A futile plea, but he needed to cling to something—anything—like a drowning man reaching for driftwood.

“Well, that depends on you, doesn’t it?” Slick appendages coiled around his arms, prompting a shudder from him. He felt their grip, and behind it, the memory of Nightmare’s tendrils. Phantom pain rippled through him. “I don’t think you’d consider my state better, though I’d personally disagree.” Shattered demurred.

The implications set a heavy weight in his ribcage. Was this truly the only path? To break himself until he became the very nightmare he was trying to stop? Would that be the only way out?

His jaw trembled as he exhaled another stream of gold-flecked smoke. It was a strange quirk of his—the smoke left his mouth a different color. It swirled around them like a shimmering veil.

He wondered if Nightmare could do something similar, or if Dream was just the broken one.

“Oh, look how sad you made him.” Sol’s taunt cut through his thoughts, a chiding click of his tongue echoing in the dimness. “Don’t be greedy. You’ve savored enough of that sourness.”

The collar around Dream’s throat hummed with warmth, pulsing in time with his SOUL. He couldn’t stop a tremor from rolling down his spine as Sol leaned in, a teasing brush of feathers dancing over his shoulders.

The world felt infinitely softer. Easier to bear. The tension bled from his form.

“Really now. You don’t think we’d help you make it better?” Sol’s tone dipped into a silkier register. “You wound me, little light.”

Warm breath skimmed over Dream’s face. Smoke curled in golden ribbons around Sol, who breathed it in without a flinch—despite claiming he detested such earthly habits.

“Eventually, we’ll all be together,” Sol promised, eyes gleaming with mischief and something far darker. “Just say the word.”

He pressed in, impossibly close, a presence that Dream couldn’t ignore. “It’s only going to get better from here, my dear,” Sol said, voice thick with satisfaction. “You just have to let us help you.”

#apple poly hell #implied dreamcest #what's in the coffin #this is as close as i could get

22 notes · View notes

arduousflame · 16 hours ago

Text

Ok, reworked that previous story to fit a bit better in Gwynn's story.

A bit on her background with Viago, and a bit on how messed up the Crows are.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lucanis meticulously inspected and replaced the small vials he carried, each one as vital as a blade to an assassin like him. The glass was opaque, cork stoppers sealed with dark red wax to keep their deadly contents secure. His movements were methodical as he separated recently used vials from those that had expired. Only one or two were good enough to return, unaltered. The rest would need to be disposed of—safely.

Across the table, Davrin cleaned his gear with the steady hands of a seasoned soldier, though his eyes kept darting toward Lucanis.

“Careful with those,” Davrin warned, his tone light but edged with caution. “I wouldn’t want Assan getting into them. And you’d better wash your hands before you start on dinner tonight. Got it?”

Lucanis opened his mouth, a sharp retort ready to fire, but stopped short when he caught Rook’s gaze from the fireplace. Her single raised eyebrow said, Don’t you dare.

“Bellara’s cooking,” Lucanis muttered instead.

The elf snorted. “Thank the gods for small mercies.”

“How do you even keep them straight?” Davrin asked after a few minutes of working in silence, nodding at the vials.

Lucanis held one up, angling it toward the light. The faint, otherworldly glow of the Fade caught on tiny raised bumps on the glass surface. He ran his fingers over them, his touch precise and sure.

“By feel,” he replied. “Each vial is marked differently. Even in the dark, I know exactly which one to take.”

“Oh, oh!” Bellara leaned across the table, her curiosity lighting up her face. “Are the marks unique for each assassin, so no one else can use your poisons? I read a story about that once! Two assassins sent to kill each other fell in love, but the woman got wounded protecting her lover. When he tried to give her the antidote, he accidentally gave her another poison because their labels were different. She died in his arms.”

Davrin chuckled and shook his head.

“The poisoners and glassmakers would riot if that were true,” Lucanis said, laughing. “No, the vials are standardized. It’s the poison makers who set the marks.”

“In this case, Viago,” Rook said, stepping closer. She reached for one of the expired vials, her movements unhurried but deliberate. “Oh, he’s given you the good stuff.” She turned the vial over, examining it like an appraiser judging a rare gem. “This one’s a doozy.”

Lucanis plucked the vial from her hand, his eyes narrowing. “Careful with that.”

Bellara cocked her head. “I didn’t know you used poison. Doesn’t it burn off with spells?”

Rook’s smirk was slow and sly. “Oh, Viago never told you?”

Lucanis frowned. “Told me what?”

“That he used me as a test subject when developing new poisons.” Rook reached for another vial, her tone as casual as if she were discussing the weather.

Bellara and Davrin froze, staring at her in wide-eyed disbelief.

Lucanis, however, remained still, his grip tightening on the vial he’d reclaimed. “I’d remember if he had.”

Rook glanced up, the corners of her mouth quirking in amusement. “Would you, though?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Oh, it’s a story,” she said, leaning one hip against the table. She pointed at the vial in his hand, her expression almost mischievous. “Want to hear what that one did to me?”

----

Viago slid the key into the lock, the faint click echoing in the stillness. He pushed the door open and stepped aside, gesturing silently for Gwynn to enter.

She hesitated for a moment before stepping inside. This room was familiar —but not for happy reasons. The shelves lined with bottles and vials, their contents shimmering in the dim light, bore the telltale marks of her Talon’s trade. The faint, acrid tang of herbs and chemicals hung in the air, sharp enough to catch in her throat.

The lab was sparsely lit. Two sconces on either side of the door cast a flickering glow, their flames shivering in the draft. Across the room, the fireplace smoldered weakly, its embers barely holding on. The light was insufficient, more for warmth than visibility, and the shadows cast by the low fire made the room feel smaller than it was.

Shelves crammed with potions, poisons, and the raw ingredients of both loomed around her. The bottles were meticulously labeled in Viago’s neat, angular handwriting, and though she knew there was an order to it all, the system remained a mystery. Like many fledglings before her, Gwynn had spent long nights pondering the riddle. Her best guess was a cipher, but she had no intention of asking Viago about his favorite book or an old love letter to confirm it. Some things were better left unsaid.

Behind her, Viago stepped into the room, the door shutting with a soft click. The sound seemed louder than it should have been.

He moved purposefully, turning the chair by the desk, the only table in the room, its surface cluttered with vials, burners, alembics, and a neat stack of labeled notebooks. With a faint scrape, he set a small stool in front of the chair, the one he used to reach the higher shelves.

"Sit," he said, his voice left no room for negotiation. He gestured to the chair. "And roll up your sleeve. Left arm. To the elbow."

Gwynn hesitated. She stood motionless in the center of the room, her hands curling into fists at her sides. The silence pressed in on her as she drew a deep breath, steeling herself. There were no pleasant memories here, there never would be. But the sooner they started, the sooner it would be over.

Finally, she moved, sliding into the chair and rolling up her sleeve. The cool air brushed against her skin, raising goosebumps. Viago, unfazed by her reluctance, was already moving about the room.

He crossed to the shelves with precise, practiced motions, selecting a small scalpel from the knife rack. A collection of hourglasses of varying sizes waited on the edge of the table, their glassy surfaces gleaming faintly in the firelight. He placed them carefully within reach before pulling down two vials from a shelf: one filled with a milky white liquid, the other slightly hazy.

The soft clink of glass against the table broke the silence as he set them down. Gwynn’s heart thudded in her chest, but she kept her face still, her breathing even. She knew better than to let her nerves show here.

One of the smaller hourglasses had already been turned, its sand cascading in a lazy spiral. The faint hiss of the grains marked the passage of time. Viago sat down on the stool in front of her, reaching for one of his well-worn notebooks. With a piece of charcoal in hand, he jotted down a few quick notes as the last grains fell, the sound of the charcoal scratching softly in the stillness.

When the sand ran out, he flipped the hourglass without hesitation, watching intently as the process repeated. Another series of marks filled the notebook. His movements were practiced, mechanical. Gwynn’s eyes flitted between the hourglass and his hand, her curiosity quietly bubbling to the surface. The steady rhythm of his work, combined with the solemn quiet of the room, felt both hypnotic and oppressive. Viago really was in his element here and whatever his intents, Gwynn knew a master of his trade when she saw one.

Perhaps it was her lingering gaze or the familiarity forged through countless hours in this room, but Viago noticed. When he finally looked up from his notes, his eyes met hers, and he offered an explanation unprompted.

“I need a baseline of your vitals,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact. “Breathing, heart rate...”

As he spoke, his gloved fingers encircled her wrist with clinical precision, pressing firmly against the pulse point. His touch was cool, the leather a stark contrast to the warmth of her skin. The hourglass was turned again, the sand flowing smoothly into the lower chamber. He kept his eyes fixed on the glass, his movements deliberate and measured.

For a moment, Gwynn’s heart seemed louder than the hourglass itself, each beat thudding in her chest as if trying to escape his scrutiny. But Viago remained detached, focused, as though nothing in the world existed beyond the falling sand and the faint rhythm beneath his fingers.

“What’s this one supposed to do?” Gwynn finally asked, her voice breaking the silence just as the last grain of sand slipped through the hourglass.

“Incapacitate. But not kill.” Viago’s tone was calm, almost clinical, as he uncorked the vial of milky liquid. The sharp tang of its contents joined the cocktail of smells in the room. With his left hand, he pressed her arm flat against the table, reaching for the scalpel with his right.

“It’s designed to induce panic,” he continued. “Overwhelm the target. Make them feel like death is creeping closer. That kind of fear loosens lips. Makes them spill secrets.”

The scalpel gleamed as he held it to the soft skin near the crook of her elbow. The blade was steady in his hands, far steadier than her racing heart. His eyes flicked up to meet hers. “Ready?”

“You have the antidote, right?” Her voice wavered despite her efforts to sound composed.

“Have I ever let you down, Gwynn?”

“Everything has a first time...”

He didn’t reply. The blade pressed down, slicing a clean line through her skin. A sharp sting bloomed as a bead of blood welled up. Viago worked swiftly, turning to the vial. He let a single drop of the milky liquid fall onto the wound.

Gwynn hissed sharply as the poison seeped in. The pain was immediate, sharp, and fiery. “Is it supposed to burn like this?”

Viago didn’t answer. Instead, he turned two hourglasses at once, their sands beginning a synchronized countdown. His left hand returned to her wrist, his fingers firm against her pulse, and his eyes stayed locked on her—not with concern, but with unshakable focus.

The burning in her arm spread quickly, radiating out like wildfire. It seeped into her chest, her limbs, until her entire body ached as if it had been lit from within. Her breathing quickened, ragged and shallow. Instinct took over, and she started to pull her arm away, but his grip was unyielding.

“Fuck, Vi—” she gasped, her words hitching as the pain surged. “My heart... Are you sure this won’t kill me?”

“Your heart’s fast, but steady,” he said, his voice calm despite her panic. “It’s still beating, Gwynn. Take a deep breath.”

Viago’s charcoal scratched across the page in precise strokes, his notes growing longer as he worked. His focus never wavered, moving between her pulse, the hourglasses, and the faint sheen of sweat forming on her brow. Each detail seemed to matter to him, though he said nothing for a long while.

The silence stretched, broken only by the steady hiss of falling sand and Gwynn’s ragged breathing. He adjusted his grip on her wrist, his gloved fingers shifting slightly as though recalibrating. “Pulse is still strong,” he murmured, almost to himself, his tone clinical. “Faster than before, but steady. Good. That’s good.”

The burning in Gwynn’s arm had spread to her chest, and she clenched her jaw to suppress a groan. Her vision blurred at the edges, dark shadows creeping in with each uneven breath. “Viago,” she gasped, “I... I can’t— my heart..”

“You can,” he interrupted. He tilted his head toward the hourglass. “You’re still well within safe limits. Your heart’s working harder, but it’s not failing.”

Her free hand gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles white. “It doesn’t feel safe,” she ground out.

“I know,” he replied, his voice maddeningly even. He reached for her wrist again, pressing his thumb against the pulse point while his eyes flicked back to the hourglass. The sand was running low. “You’re breathing shallow. Deep breaths, Gwynn.”

She tried, forcing herself to inhale deeply, but it felt like dragging air through fire. “It’s—too much,” she wheezed, her chest rising and falling in uneven jerks.

Viago’s gaze narrowed, his hand moving from her wrist to the base of her throat. His fingers rested there lightly, feeling the rapid thrum of her pulse beneath her skin. “Still consistent,” he muttered, turning the hourglass again. He leaned back, his sharp eyes darting over her face, her trembling limbs, the tension in her jaw. “Adrenaline’s spiking. No arrhythmias. You’re not crashing, Gwynn. Keep breathing.”

His detached tone should have been infuriating, but it was oddly grounding. She focused on the methodical way he turned the hourglasses, the practiced ease with which he made his notes. His presence, though cold and analytical, was unshakable.

“Burning subsiding?” he asked, his gaze flicking back to her.

“No,” she hissed. “It’s—getting worse. Vi, my chest—”

“I’m monitoring it,” he said, his tone sharper now. His hand returned to her wrist, holding her steady as she tried to pull away. “Your heart rate’s up, but it’s still strong. You’re not going to die.”

“How can you be so sure?” she snapped, tears stinging her eyes.

“I’m holding your pulse,” he said simply, his eyes meeting hers. “I’d know.”

The burning began to creep into her throat, and her breathing quickened again. “Viago, I swear—”

“Listen to me.” His tone was suddenly commanding, cutting through the fog of her panic. “You’re feeling the poison’s effects exactly as intended. It’s meant to mimic the symptoms of dying—tight chest, rapid pulse, burning in the veins. But it’s not killing you. Your vitals are telling me that your body is handling it. Focus on my voice. Breathe with me.”

He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, and she tried to mimic him, though her breath hitched midway. His fingers remained firm on her wrist, anchoring her. “That’s better,” he said quietly.

The minutes dragged on, and she lost track of how many times the hourglass had been turned. Each time it emptied, he recorded something new, his notes growing denser with every pass. He shifted her wrist slightly, checking the veins along her forearm, and pressed his free hand to her clammy forehead.

“You’re peaking now,” he said after a moment. “The burning will start to ease soon. Keep breathing, Gwynn. You’re doing fine.”

Her limbs trembled, but the fire in her veins finally began to flicker and fade, leaving behind a heavy ache. She sagged in the chair, her head tilting back as she gulped in air. Viago’s hand lingered on her wrist, his thumb brushing over her pulse as if confirming its consistency one last time.

“It’s passing,” he said, his voice softer now. “Your vitals are stabilizing.”

She blinked up at him, exhausted. “You were watching me like a damn lab rat,” she muttered, though her voice lacked venom.

“I was keeping you alive,” he countered, his expression unreadable. “If I didn’t track every detail, I wouldn’t know how far I could push the dose. Or you.”

“Push me? I felt like I was dying, Viago.”

“And you didn’t,” he replied, his eyes locking on hers. “That’s what matters.”

Her breath hitched, and she shook her head faintly. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re resilient,” he said, turning to his notebook to scrawl one last note, before closing it. “We’re done for today.”

That was her cue to leave. This time, she practically fled the room, slamming the door closed on her way out.

----

Davrin’s gaze shifted between Lucanis and Rook as the story concluded. Rook stared into the fire, her face illuminated by its flickering glow. Whatever memories the tale had stirred, she seemed lost in them now.

“I can’t believe you’d call the Crows normal,” Davrin finally said, his voice sharp with incredulity. “You two do realize none of this is normal, right?”

Lucanis set the vials back down, his fingers lingering on the wax seals. He’d need a word with Viago when he returned. The older man had always preached reforming the Crows, making them something more than tools. But now? Learning this—knowing Viago had counted Rook -Gwynn-among his closest confidants, it painted a darker picture. Lucanis had spoken of a cruel childhood to the others, but Rook’s? Rook’s had been worse.

“That’s rich coming from a Grey Warden,” She muttered.

Davrin’s response came swift and sharp. “We drink from the poisoned chalice once, Rook. After that, my sergeant didn’t keep poisoning me to prove I deserved my place.” He tossed his cleaning rag aside and pushed back from the table, rising abruptly. “I need a minute to process this.”

Bellara, who had been unusually quiet, jumped up as if startled. “I’ll… I’ll get started on dinner.” Her voice was bright but forced, and she darted from the room before anyone could reply.

That left only Rook and Lucanis at the table. The silence between them stretched, broken only by the faint crackle of the fire.

“I— I didn’t know,” Lucanis began, his voice low. “If—”

Rook cut him off, her tone sharp. “If what, Lucanis? If you’d known, then what?” She leaned forward, her blue eyes boring into his. “What would you have done? Grandson of the First Talon or not, you’d have had no right to challenge another Talon. No say in how he governed his House, or how he used his Crows.”

Lucanis opened his mouth to argue but found no words.

Rook leaned back, exhaling a long sigh as she raked a hand through her hair. Her voice softened, though the weight of her words remained. “But it’s done now. And… in his way, Viago did it out of care.”

Her gaze drifted back to the fire, her features shadowed by the glow. The faintest trace of a bitter smile crossed her lips. “His way. Always his way.”

#lucanis dellamorte #viago de riva #davrin #bellara lutare #oc: gwynn de riva #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age veilguard #datv

20 notes · View notes

goaliegossip · 14 hours ago

Note

I’m confused as to why Audrey is getting roasted. What is wrong with being flown out to hang out with Quinn? How is she clout chasing? Can’t a girl be excited about being there and having a good time and posting about it? Everyone does this but you pick and choose who to like and dislike. When Dawson gf posts she’s at games or Jamie’s now gf posts selfies from his apartment you guys are jumping up and down about it. How is this different from what Audrey does? And the girl that was at Austion’s game? All the now gf were once hookups giving a glimpse of them with these guys. I’m just trying to see the logic. Shouldn’t it be the same for everyone across the board? Not trying to be an asshole I’m just trying to wrap my head around how it’s different? If I weee Sammy I’d be blowing it up she’s dating Jack Hughes. She’s doesn’t and still gets roasted. Make it make sense. The hypocrisy is baffling.

it wouldn’t have been a big deal if she just posted that one story. that’s not what people were on about. it was the fact she posted a story at the game and deleted it a few minutes later. she then posted another one and deleted it after the game was over which gave the impression that she didn’t want him to see. she then further posted another story the next day hinting she was still around and deleted that too.

now today that video was posted. again, nothing would be wrong with that but her friends tagged her and were complimenting her as if they didn’t know her. and THEN one of them reposted the video. all of that for a hookup? these other girls are posting at games they’re attending for their BOYFRIEND. be so fr please and tell me that’s not weird.

as for sammy, that’s a whole other thing. the reasons I don’t like her is the actual proof I’ve seen. (the comments she and her friends have made and liked). anything beyond that I’m in the middle because I don’t know what’s real or not! none of us do! I actually liked sammy in the beginning. I thought jack looked happy and she was pretty and I didn’t have a problem with her in feburary. it was after he posted her for the first time where I saw comments and got curious.

I came on her and saw some of the stuff and held onto the ACTUAL proof and that’s why I don’t particularly care for her. that’s just me I can’t speak for anyone else. don’t come on here and make it seem like we’re obsessive and hypocritical. I am nothing if not realistic and fair. I can’t control what other people say or think so I am only speaking for myself when I say this.

#s. marcus #a.gentile #j. hughes #q. hughes

15 notes · View notes

diamond-reads · 9 hours ago

Text

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

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

Click.

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

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

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

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

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

I love you, Daesang winner Yoon Jeonghan!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

sulky pouty BABY come HERE let me KISS IT BETTER!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

so disconnected 📵 jeonghan x reader.

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

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

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

Click.

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

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

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

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

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

There you are.

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

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

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

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

“Still public.”

“Still don’t care.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you, Daesang winner Yoon Jeonghan!”

He can’t help it.

He laughs, and you click away.

jeonghaniyoo_n ♫ Jesse McCartney - Beautiful Soul

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

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

If only he could get you to stop working.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, I was ignoring you before that.”

“Were you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“His what?”

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

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

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

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

Oh, Jeonghan does not like that.

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

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

“I mean, yeah—”

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

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

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

jeonghaniyoo_n ♫ ZILD - Lia

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because of me,” he repeats.

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

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

You—

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

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

Workplace violations. Right. That had been a thing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about the day after tomorrow?”

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

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

He presses, “And the week after that?”

“The week after that, too.”

“What about the month after?”

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

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

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

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

Click. Click. Click.

“What are you doing?”

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

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

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

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

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

You pretend not to hear him. Jeonghan tries again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

jeonghaniyoo_n ♫ 5 Seconds of Summer - Disconnected