#it was the most natural thing in the world

[ivyues]

Feline Approval - Lee Know

How Soonie and Lee Know agreed you were the one.

The afternoon sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting soft, golden streaks across the room. Lee Know stirred awake, his senses slowly tuning in to the world around him. The first thing he noticed was the warmth pressed against him – your back nestled against his chest. His arms were securely wrapped around you, his hold gentle yet protective. His lips quirked into a faint smile. He loved these quiet moments with you, where the world seemed to pause just for a little while.

Blinking sleepily, he nuzzled closer, the subtle scent of your shampoo filling his senses. Then something caught his eye. He craned his neck slightly to peer over your shoulder and froze, his breath hitching. There, nestled in your arms, was Soonie.

One of his beloved cats, usually aloof and particular about where he napped, was curled up peacefully against you. Soonie’s small, fluffy body rose and fell with each soft breath, his paws tucked delicately against his chest. His head rested on your arm as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

Lee Know froze for a moment, his half-asleep mind trying to process what he was seeing. He swallowed the lump forming in his throat, a wave of tenderness washing over him. His pets were like his children – precious, guarded, and fiercely loved. For Soonie to let down his guard and seek comfort in your arms meant everything to him.

For a long moment, he simply watched, his heart swelling with a mix of love and tenderness. The room was filled with a calm stillness, the golden light making everything feel surreal, almost sacred. He couldn’t decide what he adored more – the way you looked so peaceful as you slept, or the fact that Soonie had claimed a spot right there with you.

He gently tightened his embrace around you, careful not to disturb the little scene in front of him. His lips brushed against the nape of your neck as he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, “You’re amazing, you know that?”

You stirred slightly but didn’t fully wake, only murmuring something incoherent. Soonie shifted in your arms, letting out a tiny, contented sigh, and Lee Know felt his heart clench. "Even Soonie knows you’re special," he murmured, more to himself than to you, his nose brushing against your shoulder.

For a man who often found it difficult to put his feelings into words, this moment spoke volumes. You weren’t just someone he loved – you were someone who had effortlessly become part of his world, someone his loved ones accepted without hesitation.

As he laid there, holding his little family in his arms, Lee Know felt a rare kind of peace settle over him. Tomorrow, there would be rehearsals, chaos, and the usual whirlwind of his life. But today, he had this – a moment of pure, unfiltered happiness – one he would treasure forever.

masterlist

[scripts4dreamers]

Something that really stuck with me while I was playing Mass Effect 2, and that I feel was so important to understanding the relationship between Shepard and Garrus, whether you romance him or not, is that Garrus is your only companion from ME1 who never moved on.

You died. The crew watched you die. Assumedly they grieved you, there was a funeral service, there were tears and all five stages of grief. Things were rough, but eventually life took on a shade of normalcy again.

Kaiden/Ashley got reassigned and continued their work for the alliance. Liara fights tooth and nail to get your body to Cerberus, but then it’s out of her hands and she becomes an information broker. Tali goes back to the Floatilla, like she was always supposed to. Wrex becomes a clan leader. And yes, they’re all fundamentally changed by their time on the Normandy, but no one seems as stuck as Garrus Vakarian.

Because he doesn’t go back to the Citadel. He doesn’t join the Turian Hierarchy. He ships himself off to Omega, one of the most dangerous places he could be, and makes a life out of pissing off the most dangerous people there. It’s kind of a suicide mission, especially after what happened with Sidonis. He kind of figures he’s going to die doing this, but what else can he do?

There is no normalcy for Garrus in a world without Shepard, and I think that’s why he’s always immediately ready to come back to the Normandy. The Normandy, and Shepard, are home for Garrus and that’s why I think romancing him feels like the natural conclusion for so many femme Sheps, because Shepard feels that way too.

Of all the companions, no one needs Shepard to live more than Garrus, and no one needs Garrus more than Shepard. They’re perfectly matched, as lovers, as friends, as soldiers, as whatever they are in your universe and when you’re that perfectly matched with someone, you never quite feel whole without them.

No Shepard without Vakarian.

[chaosroid]

One thing about the whole "book lore says women can't be witchers" is that...it doesn't even really say that. All the lore ever said on this matter was that no girl has ever survived the Trial of the Grasses. That's it. It doesn't say what the sample size was, nor does it say if they ever tried it on adult women. For all we know, they conducted it on a few dozen girls, none of them survived, and then immediately gave up.

There's also the possibility that simply more research was done for male physiology, and females might've required a different concoction of mutations to survive that they never got. Considering how under-researched womens' health tends to be irl, is it so hard to believe that the mages who first created the witcher mutations could've failed to take into account the nuances of female physiology?

In the medieval world, males are naturally going to be more expendable by virtue of being less essential in reproduction roles, so of course there's going to be more performed on boys. However, 'no girls have survived' =/= 'it is impossible for girls to survive'. Especially when the girl in question is canonically one of the most powerful women in-universe. We have no idea how Ciri's bloodline could interact with the mutations.

Nevermind the fact that there has already been a woman who was subjected to witcher mutations and survived. In the Witcher game, Rayla was turned into a mutant by the Salamandra, who had stolen the secrets of the mutagenic process from Kaer Morhen. The only difference between her and an actual witcher was the training.

The Trial isn't some immutable element, they're a process of alchemic components/ingredients, and like all things under alchemy, formulas can change and improve.

[pinkmoontaco]

Fake It till We Make It || Hwang Hyunjin

Pairing: Idol Hyunjin X Actress Y/n Genre: Fluff, Fake relationship Summary: You and Hyunjin are paired for a fake relationship to boost your public image, but what happens when fake sparks turn real?

If you have any request for other members or other groups, feel free to do so

The sound of your manager’s voice grated against your nerves, filling the small office space with an energy you couldn’t match today.

“You need this,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Your last movie tanked. The press is calling you ‘forgettable.’ Forgettable! We need to change the narrative.”

You leaned back in the leather chair, rubbing your temples. “And you think dating some idol is the solution? This is my career, not a reality show.”

Your manager’s eyes narrowed. “Not just ‘some idol.’ Hyunjin. From Stray Kids. One of the most talked-about stars right now.”

You frowned. You knew who Hyunjin was—everyone did. The golden boy of the K-pop world, known for his striking looks and graceful dancing. But lately, his name had been splashed across tabloids for all the wrong reasons: rumors of diva behavior, an old controversy that resurfaced out of nowhere, and a supposed feud with another idol.

“Why him?” you asked cautiously.

“Because he’s in hot water, too,” she replied, leaning forward. “His team is desperate to clean up his image, and a sweet, wholesome love story will do the trick for both of you. You’ll be trending for weeks. Cute couple photos, red carpet appearances, a few strategically timed interviews. It’s perfect.”

“Perfectly insane,” you muttered, but your manager ignored you.

“His team is already on board. They think you’re a great match. All you have to do is meet him, sign the NDA, and play the part.”

Before you could argue further, the door opened, and your breath caught in your throat. Hyunjin stepped in, radiating a kind of effortless charm that made your argument falter.

He was tall, dressed in a fitted black turtleneck and an oversized blazer, his hair tied back loosely. His eyes met yours, and for a brief moment, he looked as uncertain as you felt.

“Hi,” he said, his voice soft but confident. “So... I hear we’re supposed to fall in love.”

You blinked, taken aback by his bluntness. “You’re... okay with this?”

Hyunjin shrugged, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Not really. But apparently, this is what we need to survive.”

There was a beat of silence before you sighed, leaning forward. “Alright. Let’s get one thing straight. This is a business arrangement. No feelings, no drama. Just stick to the script, and we’ll both get through this.”

His smirk widened, and he tilted his head. “You make it sound so romantic.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. This was going to be a long, long ride.

Hyunjin didn’t seem to take anything seriously. At least, that’s how it felt during your first meeting. As the two of you sat across from each other in a dimly lit conference room, discussing the parameters of your “relationship,” his carefree attitude grated on your nerves.

“Let’s start with the basics,” his PR manager said, flipping through a folder. “How did you two meet?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but Hyunjin cut in with a grin. “She saw me at a fan meet, fell in love at first sight, and begged me for my number.”

You blinked at him, unimpressed. “Or” you countered, “we met at an industry party and hit it off after a deep conversation about art and music.”

Hyunjin’s brow arched. “Deep conversation? That’s a little ambitious, don’t you think?”

You resisted the urge to glare. “Well, it’s more believable than me throwing myself at you.”

The PR manager cleared her throat, clearly amused but trying to maintain professionalism. “Let’s meet in the middle. How about you met at a mutual friend’s event? You admired each other’s work, and the connection grew naturally.”

“Fine,” you muttered, avoiding Hyunjin’s amused gaze.

The rest of the meeting was a blur of schedules, photo shoot concepts, and social media strategies. By the time you left, your head was spinning.

“You looked like you were having the time of your life,” Hyunjin teased as he walked you to the door.

You shot him a side-eye. “You’re awfully relaxed about this.”

He shrugged, his hands in his pockets. “You get used to it. Pretending is half of what we do anyway.”

The first time you were “spotted” together was at a café, staged to look like a casual date. Cameras clicked from strategic angles as you sipped your latte and pretended to hang on Hyunjin’s every word.

“So,” he said, leaning forward with an easy grin, “do I look like the perfect boyfriend yet?”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. “Do you ever stop joking?”

“Only when I’m asleep.”

Despite your irritation, you couldn’t deny he was good at this. He knew how to angle himself for the cameras, how to flash just the right smile to make every photo look candid.

“You’re surprisingly professional,” you admitted, reluctantly impressed.

“Why, thank you,” he said, feigning a bow. “And you? Not bad for someone who claims to hate this idea.”

You didn’t reply, but his words stayed with you.

The first time you saw the cracks in Hyunjin’s carefree façade was during a late-night rehearsal. You had stopped by the JYP practice room to discuss the next day’s schedule, but the sound of music drew you in.

Hyunjin was alone, his movements fluid yet sharp, his expression focused. He didn’t notice you watching until the song ended and he turned, startled.

“Oh. Hey,” he said, wiping sweat from his brow.

“You’re still here?” you asked, stepping closer.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he admitted. “Dancing helps.”

There was something vulnerable about him in that moment, something raw and unpolished. You hesitated before speaking. “You’re... really good.”

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thanks. It’s the one thing I know I can do right.

The comment surprised you. For someone who seemed so confident, it was the first time he’d let his insecurities slip through.

“Maybe you’re better at other things than you think,” you said softly, unsure why you felt compelled to comfort him.

He looked at you, his gaze lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “Maybe.”

Weeks passed, and the lines between performance and reality began to blur. You spent more time together than apart, attending events, sharing meals, and even rehearsing your “love story” for interviews.

Hyunjin’s teasing became less sharp, and your walls began to lower. You found yourself laughing at his jokes, seeking his opinion on things you never thought to share.

One evening, during a quiet moment on a hotel balcony, he turned to you, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “Do you ever think about what happens when this ends?”

The question caught you off guard. “What do you mean?”

“I mean... this. Us. Pretending to be something we’re not.”

You hesitated, unsure how to answer. “I try not to think about it. It’s easier that way.”

He nodded, his gaze distant. “Yeah. Me too.”

For the first time, the thought of “the end” left an ache in your chest.

The two of you sat in an unfamiliar green room, waiting for your turn on a late-night talk show. Hyunjin was scrolling on his phone, while you nervously fidgeted with the hem of your dress. The show was known for playful interviews that often led to viral moments.

“You’ll be fine,” Hyunjin said, his tone unusually gentle.

You looked up at him, surprised by his sincerity. “What?”

“You’ve been messing with that dress for the past ten minutes,” he said, nodding toward your hands. “Relax. You’re a natural at this stuff.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Hardly. This whole fake dating thing has me second-guessing everything.”

Hyunjin set his phone down, his expression softening. “Look, just follow my lead. They love us together.”

His confidence was reassuring, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to trust him.

When it was your turn onstage, Hyunjin kept his promise. He answered questions with practiced ease, throwing in playful remarks that made the audience laugh. When the host asked about your “relationship,” Hyunjin reached over to take your hand.

“It’s been amazing,” he said, smiling at you like you were the only person in the room.

For a moment, the world seemed to blur, leaving just the two of you. The warmth of his hand, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled—it felt real.

And that terrified you.

After the show, you found yourselves walking back to the hotel, the cool night air refreshing after hours under studio lights. Hyunjin, still buzzing with energy, suggested a detour.

“There’s this rooftop I go to sometimes,” he said. “The view’s incredible.”

You hesitated but eventually agreed. A short elevator ride later, you were standing atop a quiet rooftop overlooking the city. The lights stretched endlessly, a shimmering sea of color and life.

“Wow,” you murmured, leaning against the railing.

“Right?” Hyunjin joined you, his voice softer now. “It’s one of the few places that makes me feel... small, in a good way.”

You glanced at him, noticing the faraway look in his eyes. “Do you ever miss being just... normal?”

“All the time,” he admitted. “But then I think about the people who believe in me, who find comfort in what I do. That makes it worth it.”

His words resonated with you, and for the first time, you saw past the idol persona. This wasn’t Hyunjin the star—this was just Hyunjin, a young man trying to make sense of his place in the world.

As the two of you stood there, sharing quiet thoughts under the stars, you felt something shift. The lines between what was fake and what was real began to blur even further.

The turning point came during a gala event. You were dressed to the nines, smiling politely as you mingled with industry elites. Hyunjin stayed close, his presence a steadying force.

Then your co-star, Eric, appeared. He was charming and overconfident, and he wasted no time pulling you into a conversation.

Hyunjin, watching from a distance, felt a strange pang in his chest as he saw you laughing at Eric’s jokes. He told himself it was all part of the act—after all, this wasn’t real.

But when Eric leaned in a little too close, Hyunjin found himself walking over.

“Hey,” he said smoothly, slipping an arm around your waist. “Everything okay here?”

You blinked up at him, surprised by his sudden possessiveness. “Yeah, we were just—”

Great,” Hyunjin cut in, his smile tight. “But we should probably get back to the table. They’re about to announce the next award.”

Eric raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. As Hyunjin led you away, his hand lingering at your waist, you couldn’t help but notice the tension in his jaw.

“Was that necessary?” you asked once you were out of earshot.

Hyunjin didn’t meet your eyes. “Probably not.”

You studied him, a flicker of understanding dawning. Was he... jealous?

That night, back at the hotel, you knocked on Hyunjin’s door. He opened it, looking surprised to see you.

“Can we talk?” you asked, your voice quieter than usual.

He stepped aside, letting you in. The room was dimly lit, and the atmosphere felt heavy with unspoken words.

“What’s going on?” you asked, crossing your arms. “You’ve been acting... strange.”

Hyunjin sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really?” you challenged. “Because it sure seemed like you were about to deck Eric earlier.”

His gaze finally met yours, and for the first time, you saw hesitation there. “I guess I just didn’t like seeing him flirt with you.”

“Why?” you pressed, your heart pounding.

He hesitated, then sighed. “Because maybe this doesn’t feel so fake anymore.”

The confession hung between you, leaving you breathless

Hyunjin’s words hung in the air, heavy and unshakable. For a moment, all you could do was stare at him, trying to process what he has just said.

“This doesn’t feel so fake anymore,” he repeated, softer this time, like he was testing the words himself.

You shook your head, stepping back instinctively. “Hyunjin, we can’t... This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“I know,” he said, his voice almost pleading. “But maybe it was inevitable. We’ve spent so much time together—”

“It’s an act,” you interrupted, more forcefully than you intended. “That’s all it is. We agreed from the beginning: no feelings, no drama.”

He flinched at your words, his expression clouding. “Right. No feelings.”

You could see the hurt in his eyes, but you forced yourself to turn away. You couldn’t afford to let this become real. Not when your careers, your reputations—everything—was on the line.

“I should go,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Hyunjin didn’t stop you, and that made it worse.

After that night, things changed. Hyunjin became distant, his playful demeanor replaced by quiet professionalism. You told yourself this was for the best—that keeping your distance would make it easier to maintain the illusion without getting tangled in your emotions.

But it didn’t feel easier.

The staged dates, the red-carpet appearances, even the candid moments for the cameras—all of it felt emptier now. You missed the way Hyunjin used to tease you, the way he could make you laugh even when you didn’t want to.

It wasn’t until a fan event, weeks later, that the tension finally boiled over.

A fan asked Hyunjin about your relationship, and he gave his usual charming answer, but there was a noticeable edge to his tone. Afterward, when you were alone backstage, you couldn’t hold back anymore.

“What’s your problem?” you snapped.

Hyunjin turned to you, his expression unreadable. “My problem? I’m just doing what you wanted—keeping it professional.”

You clenched your fists, frustration bubbling over. “You don’t have to be so cold about it!”

He let out a bitter laugh. “What do you want from me? You were the one who said this was just an act.”

“I didn’t mean—” You stopped yourself, realizing you didn’t know how to finish the sentence.

Hyunjin stepped closer, his gaze piercing. “What didn’t you mean?”

Your breath hitched. For a moment, the only sound was the distant hum of the crowd outside.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you admitted finally, your voice trembling.

Hyunjin’s expression softened, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he reached out, his hand brushing against yours. The touch was fleeting, but it sent a jolt through you.

“We can’t keep doing this,” he said quietly. “Not if it’s going to hurt like this.”

The tension between you and Hyunjin came to a head during a joint interview. The host, sensing the awkwardness, asked a question that caught both of you off guard.

“What’s the most unexpected thing you’ve learned about each other?”

Hyunjin hesitated, glancing at you before answering. “She’s a lot stronger than she gives herself credit for.”

His words took you by surprise. For the first time in weeks, you saw a glimpse of the Hyunjin you’d gotten to know—the one who saw past your walls and made you feel seen.

When it was your turn to answer, you found yourself speaking without thinking. “He’s not as carefree as he seems

Hyunjin’s eyes met yours, and in that moment, something shifted.

Later that night, after the interview, you found yourself standing outside Hyunjin’s hotel room. Your heart raced as you knocked on the door, unsure of what you were going to say but knowing you couldn’t leave things as they were.

He opened the door, his expression wary but hopeful. “Hey.”

“Can we talk?” you asked, your voice trembling.

He stepped aside, letting you in. The room was quiet, the air heavy with unspoken words.

“I’ve been thinking,” you began, your hands twisting nervously. “About what you said… about how this doesn’t feel fake anymore.”

Hyunjin watched you carefully, his eyes searching yours. “And?”

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “You’re right. It doesn’t feel fake. At least, not to me.”

His eyes widened, a flicker of hope breaking through his guarded expression. “Are you saying…?”

“I’m saying I’m scared,” you admitted. “But I don’t want to keep pretending like this doesn’t mean anything. Because it does. You do.”

For a moment, Hyunjin didn’t say anything. Then, without warning, he crossed the room and pulled you into his arms.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

You clung to him, tears pricking at your eyes. “You didn’t.”

The next day, when you stepped out together for another staged appearance, something was different. The smiles, the hand-holding, the lingering glances—they weren’t for the cameras anymore.

They were for each other.

And this time, it was real.

The first kiss happened unexpectedly. It wasn’t during a red-carpet event or a photo shoot—it was in the quiet of your apartment, after a long day.

Hyunjin had stopped by to drop off some documents your managers wanted you to review together. You were sitting on the couch, bickering playfully over the wording of a statement when Hyunjin suddenly went quiet.

“What?” you asked, glancing up.

He was looking at you with that soft, unreadable expression he often had when he thought you weren’t paying attention.

“Nothing,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just... You look really beautiful right now.”

Your cheeks burned, and you let out a nervous laugh. “Stop teasing me.”

“I’m not teasing,” he said, leaning closer. His hand came up to brush a strand of hair out of your face, and your breath hitched.

The kiss was soft and hesitant at first, as if both of you were testing the waters. But when you didn’t pull away, Hyunjin deepened it, his hand cupping your cheek as his lips moved against yours.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless.

“That wasn’t in the script,” you murmured, trying to hide your smile.

Hyunjin grinned. “Maybe we should improvise more often.”

If you thought the kiss marked a turning point in your relationship, the real test came when the rest of Stray Kids found out.

It happened during a casual group hangout at their dorm. You and Hyunjin had been careful to keep your relationship private, but apparently, not careful enough.

“You two are acting weird,” Felix said, narrowing his eyes as he watched you and Hyunjin sit suspiciously far apart on the couch.

“Weird how?” Hyunjin asked, feigning innocence.

“Weird as in, you’re trying too hard not to look at each other,” Seungmin chimed in, smirking.

Before you could deny it, Changbin leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Wait a second. Did something happen between you two?”

Hyunjin sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. Yes, something happened.”

Weeks after the public reveal, life settled into a new rhythm. You and Hyunjin were still navigating the world as a couple, balancing the constant demands of work and your blossoming relationship. The attention from fans and the media was overwhelming at times, but you had each other to lean on.

One quiet afternoon, you were at a cafe, sharing a rare moment of peace away from the chaos. Hyunjin was sitting across from you, fiddling with his phone while you sipped on your iced coffee. The soft hum of conversation and the sound of clinking cups created a comforting atmosphere.

“I’ve been thinking about something,” Hyunjin said, looking up from his phone.

“Uh-oh,” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

He smirked, clearly amused by your reaction. “I’m serious, okay? We’ve been at this for a while now faking it, being real, all of it. But... I want more. I want to know what it’s like when there’s no pressure. No cameras, no fans, just you and me.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. “More?” you repeated, your voice soft.

He nodded, setting his phone aside. “Yeah. More dates without anyone watching. More lazy days where we can just be ourselves. I want to take this slow, but also, I don’t want to waste any more time pretending it’s not real.”

You felt a warmth spread through you, the sincerity in his voice making your chest tight. “I want that too,” you whispered.

The smile he gave you in return made you feel like the luckiest person in the world. He reached across the table, taking your hand in his. The simple gesture felt more meaningful than any grand declaration.

“Then it’s settled,” he said, squeezing your hand gently. “No more pretending. Just us.”

And as you left the cafe, hand in hand, it felt like the first step toward truly being yourselves—no more masks, no more facades.

Of course, even though you and Hyunjin were more serious than ever, that didn’t mean the teasing from the members stopped. If anything, it got worse.

One evening, after a long day of practice, the Stray Kids members were all lounging around in the dorm, taking a break. You and Hyunjin had just come back from a walk, still holding hands when you entered the living room.

“Look who it is, the couple of the century,” Changbin teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Shut up,” Hyunjin grumbled, trying to hide the blush creeping up his neck.

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile. “You guys are the worst.”

Felix grinned, giving you a knowing look. “We just need to see if you two are as cute off-camera as you are on. I’m still waiting for a public kiss, you know.”

You shot him a glare, but Hyunjin wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. “Maybe we’ll give you a kiss when you stop being so nosy,” he said, his voice teasing.

“Oh, that’s it,” Han chimed in, making a face. “I’m going to vomit.”

You laughed, your hand slipping into Hyunjin’s as you sat down beside him. “You’re all insufferable.”

“They just want to see how sweet you two are together,” Seungmin said with a smirk. “But I have to admit, it’s nice to see Hyunjin like this. He’s never been this... open.”

your heart fluttered at his words, and you looked up at Hyunjin, who was now giving Seungmin an exaggerated side-eye. “Don’t make it sound like I was some mystery,” he said, though the grin on his face betrayed him.

You smiled softly, feeling your heart swell at the thought of how far the two of you had come. What started as a simple arrangement had evolved into something deeper, something real, and the teasing, while relentless, only made it feel more genuine.

One rainy afternoon, as you were curled up on the couch in your apartment, Hyunjin walked in with an envelope in hand, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“What's this?” you asked, sitting up and eyeing him curiously.“It’s a surprise,” he said with a wink, handing you the envelope.

Inside was a ticket for a private art exhibit that was being held at a museum in the city. The exhibit was a collection of works from various contemporary artists, and it was known for being intimate, with only a handful of people allowed in at a time.

“I got us tickets,” Hyunjin said, his voice soft. “I know you love art, and I thought it’d be a good way to spend some time together, away from everything else.”

Your heart melted. “Hyunjin, this is so thoughtful.”

He smiled, looking pleased with himself. “I figured it would be something different. Plus, we get to walk around the exhibit hand-in-hand without worrying about paparazzi or cameras.”

You couldn’t help but grin. “You really do know how to surprise me.”

As the two of you spent the afternoon wandering through the quiet halls of the museum, talking about the paintings and sculptures that caught your eye, you felt the world outside fade away. It was just the two of you, sharing something special, and it felt perfect.

Later that evening, after a quiet dinner, Hyunjin walked you back to your apartment, his hand still holding yours tightly.

“Thanks for today,” you said, your voice soft as you glanced up at him. “It was one of the best days I’ve had in a while.”

Hyunjin smiled down at you, his eyes warm and full of affection. “I’m glad. I’ll always find ways to make you happy.”

And as he kissed you gently under the dim light of your apartment hallway, you knew he meant every word.

Months passed, and your relationship with Hyunjin only grew stronger. There were still moments of teasing from the members, still the occasional bout of nerves before public appearances, but through it all, you both knew one thing for sure: this wasn’t just an act anymore.

One evening, as the two of you sat together on the rooftop of the dorm, gazing out at the city lights, Hyunjin turned to you with a serious expression.

“You know,” he began, his voice thoughtful, “when we first started this, I never thought we’d end up here. But now, I can’t imagine my life without you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you reached over, taking his hand. “Me neither,” you said softly. “I think I’ve always known it was real, even if I didn’t want to admit it.”

Hyunjin smiled, leaning in to kiss you. “Then let’s make it real—forever.”

As you kissed him, the world around you faded, and in that moment, nothing else mattered.

The End... or perhaps just the beginning.

[webzazes]

making this danny phantom teehee ❤️

My family always seemed like the most normal people in the world. But, we're filthy rich. I'm not a fan of it, but it's whatever. At least I have funds for passion projects, and hopefully, in due time, my own greenhouse (I've wanted one for years).

I actually only learned what really made us so successful recently, though. Ever since I was young, I was told over and over again that it was due to an invention, something useful and prominent in everyday life. However, it turns out that we're so wealthy because of black magic.

The thought alone inspired me so much, and I was already into gothic and fantastical things- it practically tripled my obsession. My parents, however, thought I was "too obvious" or "too gloomy" for our happy little family, especially because of my style of dress, but I was dead-set on breaking away from the norm after I learned how, well, not normal we are under wraps.

This made me a loner at school. I was different, and I wasn't a fan of going out of my way for friendships, let alone any unnecessary social interaction. I kept to myself, and became "the weird goth girl". Honestly, I was happy with that.

But, being a loner led me to Danny. And, of course, his friend Tucker. They accepted me- although we did butt heads at times, as is natural. We'd go to Danny's house, hear about his parents' work, and especially, their obsession with ghosts.

As someone getting into the occult, (I was actively training myself with books from our family library) I was interested. Very interested. I knew about souls, zombies, and demons, but not so much about ghosts themselves, the physical representation of a consciousness and soul tied down to Earth.

So, when Danny brought us to his basement to show us the "ghost portal" his parents were working on, I was excited. Really excited. Of course, I didn't let that show, I figured it might be as dumb as all of the other Fenton tech, and I wasn't expecting it to be dangerous, either.

But, when Danny stepped in to try and turn it on, I realized it was, in fact, dangerous. Very much so. The sheer amount of force I felt when the portal opened was almost painful- but never could be as painful as the sight of what happened to Danny because of it. He looked almost burned in places, and practically wilted to the ground.

He was limp. And he didn't look right, either- his hair was a shocking, clear white, and his eyes were green. At the time, I didn't even notice that the protective suit he was wearing had changed. But I could 100 percent tell that he was dead. Stone cold and limp, dead.

Tucker looked to be on the verge of tears, but I didn't care. I had to do something! I could feel some kind of residual energy on Danny's body, and I thought, "a source". A source of power for me to use, something I could heal him with.

Healing was my passion. I've always cared for life. Especially in this instance- Danny wasn't allowed to die. He couldn't die. I don't know what I would've done if he did..

So, in a split second, I was by his side. I was full healer mode, to the point I knew I couldn't let Tucker see my face. If he saw my eyes, well, he certainly wouldn't have been able to forget them any time soon..

I grasped at the energy left on Danny, and I made it mine. My emotions made me strong, determined, and I used that energy to successfully make an offering to Danny's soul. It was like summoning a demon- I'd seen my mom do it before- but more intimate, as I touched his spirit, poured its power into his bloodstream, and pulled at it, as I tied it to his body. I could almost feel the ectoplasm in my hands- and that's when I realized what the residual energy really was. Ectoplasm.

The ghost portal was real.

All in all, the whole process of "fixing" Danny, well.. it felt like nothing. And it really was quick. Thankfully, once I told Tucker that Danny was breathing, he didn't think to question the wait. He said nothing. And I couldn't bring myself to say that Danny was still cold..

So, hurriedly, we took Danny to his room, and told his parents he was tired. We said that he fell asleep while playing games with us. That was it.

That is how it all started.

You always wanted to be a Healer. Unfortunately, your dad was an Necromancer and your mother a Demon Summoner. So your healing was a bit… unconventional to say the least.

[miihho]

can you pleaseeee write type of guy for gi hun? bro is underrated in his own show 😔🙏

The Kind Of Guy

Seong Gi-hun

SFW

—Gi-hun is the kind of guy who falls in love with kindness and personality, drawn to the way someone makes him feel seen and understood. It's not about looks or grand gestures for him—it's the little things, the quiet moments that reveal a person’s true heart. He admires how you treat others with warmth and kindness, how your laughter can light up a room, and how your compassion extends even to those who may not deserve it.

He’s captivated by your authenticity, your ability to stay true to yourself in a world that often demands conformity. The way you listen intently when he speaks, offering gentle advice without judgment, leaves a lasting impression on him.

Gi-hun isn’t easily won over by surface-level charm; what matters most to him is how you make him feel—safe, valued, and loved for who he truly is. He would slowly become captivated by you, his love for you deepening as he watches you simply be yourself. There’s something about your genuine nature that pulls him in more with each passing day.

—If Gi-hun was tired from work, he’d be the kind of guy who just wanted to be wrapped up in your warmth. He’d quietly rest his head on your thighs or lap, finding comfort in your presence alone.

Sometimes, he’d drape his entire body over yours, seeking solace in the gentle rise and fall of your breathing. Nothing made him feel more at peace than when your fingers ran through his hair, your soft touch melting away his exhaustion. A tender kiss on his forehead would be the final thing to undo him, leaving him weak and completely at ease.

In those moments, with his worries fading and your arms around him, he’d fall into a deep, contented sleep, feeling safe and loved like never before.

—If life became too overwhelming and you came running to him, Gi-hun would immediately pull you into his arms, holding you tightly as if shielding you from the world. He’d gently pet your hair, his touch soothing and filled with love.

He’d press soft kisses to your temple and wipe away your tears, his fingers carefully brushing your hair out of your face. Looking deeply into your eyes, he’d whisper, “It’s okay, baby. I’m here. I’ve got you.” while cupping your face with his hands. And with that, he’d kiss your forehead, grounding you with his warmth and reassurance, making you feel like everything would be alright as long as he was by your side.

—Gi-hun adores when you sit on his lap, the weight of you resting gently against him as if you were meant to be there. He looks up at you with a soft, almost reverent gaze, as if trying to memorize every detail of the moment—your eyes, the curve of your smile, the way your presence seems to calm his restless heart.

His hands find their way to your waist or thighs, a subtle gesture of possessiveness mixed with tenderness, as he pulls you in a little closer, savoring the closeness. He doesn’t need words in moments like these; just the warmth of your body against his and the quiet intimacy between you two is enough. He knows he’s exactly where he’s meant to be, holding the one person who makes everything feel right.

—If he had the means, he’d spoil you with everything you could ever dream of. No wish would be too small or too big; if it made you happy, he’d make sure you had it. Whether it’s a simple treat or an extravagant gift, nothing would stop him from seeing that smile on your face, because making you happy is his greatest joy.

—His age might be a little older, but not by too much—just enough for him to carry that sense of maturity and wisdom that comes with experience. He would treat you right in every way, with a gentleness that made you feel cherished. Whether it was peeling oranges for you, slicing apples with care, or making sure you felt like royalty, he'd always go the extra mile to make you feel special. He would treat you like a princess, and in turn, you'd feel like a queen in his presence.

—So imagine being in his arms, both of you just there—naked not in body but in the vulnerability of the moment. There’s no rush, no need for anything more, just the simple act of caressing each other, feeling the warmth of your skin against his while soft whispers will fill the space between you. He craves the connection that goes beyond desire, cherishing your raw presence, the way you make him feel whole just by being near him. The simplicity of it all, the quiet affection, would be enough to fill both your hearts.

—If you drift off to sleep on the couch, he would gently lift you in his arms, carrying you upstairs to your bed. With tender care, he'd lay you down and tuck you in snugly beneath a warm blanket, making sure you’re comfortable before quietly leaving the room.

—If you were feeling down, he’d do everything he could to lift your spirits. He’d grab a silly mask, crack a joke, or pull a funny face just to see you smile. When he asked what was wrong and you shared your worries, he’d pull you into a warm embrace, holding you close as he whispered nothing but reassuring words into your ears.

He's the kind of guy who justs wants is to be next to you—your hands locked together, your legs comfortably tangled. He wants your face nestled in his neck, the rhythm of your breathing the only sound in the quiet room.

He wants to feel you stir, mumbling, “I’m so tired,” so he can softly whisper, “Go back to sleep,” holding you closer as you drift off again.

He dreams of those peaceful early mornings, lying beside you in the stillness, maybe reading a book while you rest. Or maybe just running his fingers gently through your hair, watching over you as a soft smile tugs at his lips, feeling like the luckiest person in the world.

—He would, will, and IS going to love you bare and raw—unfiltered and unapologetic, accepting every part of you. No pretenses, no facades, just the real, unpolished version of who you are. He would love you with the same vulnerability, never asking you to hide any part of yourself.

In his arms, you’d feel like you could be completely yourself, exposed and imperfect, but cherished all the same. His love would be unconditional, free from judgment, because in his eyes, you are perfect just as you are.

—If he saw you joining the game with him, absolute terror would wash over him. The moment his eyes locked with yours, knowing you'd willingly entered a nightmare he had already endured, his heart would race in panic. He’d grab your shoulders, eyes wide with fear, demanding, “Why are you here?!” His voice would crack, trying to make sense of it all, his only concern now being to get you out of this mess.

He’d scold you, his tone harsh with worry, “What were you thinking!? This isn’t just a game!” His words would come from a place of raw fear, a desperate attempt to push you away from the danger that loomed. His fear would intensify, each second passing a terrifying reminder of what this game could cost.

He would do anything—anything at all—to get you out of there. The thought of losing you, of seeing you hurt, would tear him apart. He couldn’t lose you; he just couldn’t. A part of him would feel like it was slipping away, that his very soul was in jeopardy. His heart would be racing, consumed by the fear of a future without you. No, no—he couldn’t lose you. He would be scared in ways he never knew he could be, completely helpless, yet still trying to protect you at all costs.

—If Gi Hun had a crush on you, he’d be a mess trying to hide it. He’d stutter a little over his words, his sentences barely making sense as he tried to keep his composure. When he was around you, he’d find it impossible to focus, his mind racing in a million directions. He’d try his best to play it cool, but his nervousness would be all too obvious. The way his cheeks would flush, the small awkward laughs, and the way he couldn’t meet your eyes for too long would give him away.

No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t handle being around you without his feelings spilling out. His every attempt to act casual would fail, and deep down, he’d be embarrassed, but he couldn’t help it. You had him completely flustered, and no matter how much he tried to hide it, he’d always end up wearing his heart on his sleeve.

—When faced with dangerous people, he would immediately step in front of you, positioning himself as a shield. His instincts would be to protect you at all costs, and he’d put himself between you and any threat, no hesitation in his movements. He would hide you behind his back, ensuring that you were out of harm’s way, his body acting as the barrier to keep you safe.

—When Gi Hun confesses to you, it would be a heartfelt moment that he’s carefully planned out, even if his nerves are getting the best of him. He’d send you a text or a letter asking you to meet him at a specific place, and when you arrived, you’d find him standing there, waiting for you. His eyes would light up as soon as he saw you, a spark of excitement and love shining through, though he’d be hiding something behind his back, his nervousness mixed with anticipation.

He’d take a deep breath before speaking, his voice filled with sincerity as he gave you a long, heartfelt explanation. He’d tell you why he likes you, why he fell in love with you—how your kindness, your smile, the way you light up his world, all made him realize just how much you meant to him. It would be a genuine, vulnerable confession, his emotions raw and unfiltered.

Finally, after pouring his heart out, he’d take a step closer to you, holding out the things you love—small tokens of thoughtfulness, gestures that show how much he’s paying attention to the little things about you. With a nervous yet hopeful look, he’d finally ask you out if you want to be his.

You’d be standing there, overwhelmed by his honesty and the sweetness of the moment, in awe and shock, but without a doubt, your heart would race as you say “Yes.”

—He’s the kind of guy who’ll wander into the kitchen just to be close to you. He’d wrap his arms around you from behind, pressing his face into the curve of your neck to breathe in your scent, his embrace warm and unyielding. He’d nuzzle you gently, turning you around to face him with that look in his eyes—hungry, not just for food, but for you.

Even as soap dripped from your hands, he wouldn’t care. He’d guide your hands to his hair, leaning into your touch, and silently begging for your kiss. In his world, no moment was too mundane for intimacy; even standing in the kitchen, you were the center of his hunger, his affection, his everything.

NSFW

—Steamy shower sex is one of Jun Ho's absolute favorites, and he revels in every moment of it with you. Water drips down your skin, warm and relentless, as your bodies collide with a fervor that borders on desperate. The heat between you burns hotter than the steam surrounding you, and Gi Hun pulls you closer, his chest pressed firmly against yours.

Your back meets the cold tiles with a sharp gasp, the chill a perfect contrast to the fire coursing through your veins. Your legs are wrapped tightly around his waist, locking him in place as if the space between you could ever be enough. Your arms drape over his shoulders, hands buried in his damp hair, tugging gently, urging him closer still.

His hands are everywhere, tracing your curves, memorizing your body like a sacred scripture he’s afraid to forget. His lips would come crashing into yours, urgent and consuming, tasting every part of you he can claim.

—He loves the feeling of your bare skin against his, the intimacy of having you completely, utterly his. Every curve, every line of your body only deepens his admiration, leaving him in awe of the woman he’s so lucky to call his. As he moves with you, his hands trace your face with reverence, his eyes locked on yours, drinking in every expression, every breath, every sound, and every moan you make.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, voice heavy with a mix of passion and disbelief, “you’re so beautiful baby, my beautiful wife.” His gaze lingered on you with an intensity that spoke of his love, each moment deepening as he continued to hit your sweet spot. Then, drawing closer, he leaned in to taste you once more, savoring every sensation.

—In bed, Gi hun would never resort to calling you derogatory names like 'slut' or 'whore.' That’s just not the kind of man he is, and you are not that type of woman. Instead, he showers you with sweet pet names—'sweetheart,' 'princess,' 'baby' 'angel'— and praises you as he makes love to you.

—Gi-hun wouldn't even realize he had a kink until you whispered how good he was at making you feel pleasure. Each word dripped with desire, and the happiness washing over him was palpable—every “good boy” igniting something deep within.

“Such a good boy for me, baby haa-fuck, making me feel so good,” you moaned, arching your back. Your nails clawed at his back, the sensation driving him wild, making him groan deeply.

His ego swelled with each sound you made, compelling him to thrust harder, faster, hungry for your praise. “I want to hear you say it again,” he said, his voice laced with desperation as he struggled to maintain control. “Tell me how good I’m making you feel.”

“Hngg—you’re doing so well for me baby, haah—such a good boy, my good boy.” Your encouragement spurred him on, each thrust becoming more erratic. He focused on the visceral connection at the junction of your bodies, the creamy ring around him and the warm, slick remnants pooling onto the sheets—the evidence of your shared ecstasy driving him towards the edge once more.

“I can’t... Fuck I can’t hold back,” he stammered, the need to please you overwhelming his senses. “You’re so tight baby—you feel so good.. so fucking perfect for me.”

Profanities spilled from his lips as he fell into a primal rhythm, slamming into you from behind. The room filled with the symphony of loud squelches and the creaking of the bed under the force of his fervent thrusts.

“i love you s'much keep fucking me like that baby,” you urged, your breath ragged. His sensitivity heightened with every flutter of your walls around him, his vision blurring as black spots danced in and out of focus. A strangled moan caught in his throat as he found his release, filling you completely with his cum, the warmth spilling inside like melted marshmallows, soft and indulgent.

"haa..fuck—you feel so good baby, ’so good.” he breathed out as he rode out his climax. His arms trembling, feeling you milk every last drop from him, as he collapsed onto you, a huff escaping his lips, “Did I do good baby?”

"Mhm, You did such a good job love." a wide smile formed on his lips.

—If you take him into your mouth, he can’t help but moan loudly, lost in the intoxicating warmth of your lips and tongue. Each flick and swirl drives him wild, and he sputters curses in pure pleasure, praising how good you make him feel and how perfectly your mouth envelops him

—He’s the type of guy who fears hurting you at first, but once you tell him it’s okay, he starts off slow and gentle, relishing the feel of your dripping wet pussy around him. But as he gets lost in the thrill, his aggression takes over, and he’s pounding into you with a rougher, relentless pace, turning you into a moaning, writhing mess beneath him.

[figthoughts]

How do you think SB and Dean would react to reader safewording? I have some sort of idea for Dean, but with SB? Very mixed tbh

omg i have many thoughts !! allow me to ramble thank u ! (soldier boy’s part is a little ehhhh, just read with caution if ur sensitive to dubcon type scenarios!) 18+ ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

— dean winchester ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

dean loves sex. he’s made that abundantly clear throughout your relationship. anytime he can get his hands on you, he will. and so naturally, you’ve spent time learning each other’s bodies, kinks, likes ‘n dislikes and everything in between. you’re entirely comfortable together.

so one day when you suddenly blurt out your safe word, dean pauses, his eyes flickering up to meet yours — to check in with you.

“baby, you okay? you wanna stop?” his words are gentle and full of love, concern splashed across his features.

his face softens while he nods along to your quiet explanation, pulling out/away from whatever he’d been doing to you. he settles down beside you, watching you as if you’re about to shatter into a million pieces.

“s’okay, sweetheart. we can stop. you don’t need an excuse. if you’re not feeling up to it, it’s not a big deal. we can just cuddle if you want,” he shrugs with a reassuring expression on his face, “you look like you need a hug, yeah? c’mere.”

dean opens his arms for you, letting you crawl against his chest. he nuzzles his chin into the top of your head, holding you snug against him, his hand rubbing down your back in a soothing motion.

“thank you for letting me know, baby,” he murmurs against your hair, leaving a soft kiss. he’s just happy you feel safe enough to ask him to stop whenever you need.

— soldier boy [ben] ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

i can’t decide between two ideas, so i’m giving you both !!

ben—your ben—the world’s strongest man who, simultaneously, is the world’s softest man the second he’s got his sweet little lady between his sheets.

there’s no denying he fucks like a pornstar on speed. it’s sometimes frightening how long he can keep at it — fucking you until you’re spent and boneless, blissed out and overstimulated from your umpteenth orgasm. he loves when you’re unable to form words, just soft incoherent babbles that force a grin to spread across his face as he plows into you with a superhuman force.

he loves going over the top to please you. and so it’s no surprise when you mumble out your safe word through warm salty tears, tired and unable to take any more of what he’s giving you. he slows down, meeting your gaze with his own. “what’s the matter? had enough, my pretty lady?”

ben knows sex with him can be a lot, and considering you’re just a sweet little doll, he knows it’s up to you to call it when you’ve had enough — cause if it were up to ben, you’d never leave his damn bed.

your mumbled pleas earn a nod in return from ben, “alright, babygirl. s’not a problem. here—” he pulls himself away from you, “i’ll run you a bath, yeah?”

you watch him get up and start heading to the bathroom, but not before he turns around, throwing you a cheeky wink, “i think that might’ve been a new record for ya, doll.”

alternatively… ✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

ben’s rough. he’s rough around the edges. you know it. he knows it. everyone he’s ever met knows it. but he doesn’t just look rough or talk rough — he fucks rough.

you’re no stranger to the supe and how he bends you in half, like he’s unafraid of breaking you with his strength and brute force. for the most part, you take it like a good little thing, letting him break you down into nothing, but a whimpering little mess below him. and he loves it, ruining women while he doesn’t even break a sweat.

so when he mentions going a little further—adding a few new things to your nightly affairs—you agree, but only with the clear understanding that you get a safe word.

and ben agrees. i mean, anything to get his babydoll back into his bed, right?

so when he’s got you in half, your limbs flailing around in the air, pleading for him to stop, he simply doesn’t. he knows you know your safe word, and he hasn’t heard it leave your sweet little mouth yet. so he continues on, tiring out your sore body beyond belief — he’s really getting his kicks from seeing you all fucked out and begging like your life depends on it.

“look at you, damn slut. you like this, don’t you?” he grunts out, watching you sob and try to free yourself from his restraints. your eyes are filled to the brim with tears, your emotions clear on your face. he loves that you’re taking it for him — being a good ol’ little thing for him.

so it’s much to his surprise when you sob out your safe word. he’s a little bewildered to say the least. his brows pinch together, but he doesn’t slow down, not one bit.

his thrusts get harder, his eyes locked on your pleading little face. “just give me a damn minute. i’m close,” he mutters, his breath a little laboured, as if seeing you like this is the driving factor pushing him to the edge.

it doesn’t take long for him to finish, and when he does, he’s panting with the stupidest grin on his face. he slumps down on top of you, invading your space, “jesus, that was fuckin’ something, hey? you liked that, my sweet little thing?”

all you can do is sniffle and try to catch your breath while his weight crushes you. he presses a kiss to your cheek and he hears your breath hitch. and he knows he’s got you exactly where he wants — in the palm of his fucking hand.

A/N: this was soooo fun to type up !!! i love scenario requests sm (feel free to send me more) !!!!!! also first time writing something a lil darker w the dubcon part !!! what do we thinkkkkk? <3

feedback and reblogs are appreciated! thank uuu!

✩ taglist cause why not: @chevroletdean @fitxgrld @jasvtsc @bluestrd @1-imbroglio @titsout4jackles @faithfulsofi @tortureddarkstar @abellmunsonmovie @legalmente-loca @theoneandonlystonedspiderman420 @manicjk @aileenunfiltered @minettacreekk @jackleslvr @winchester-whiskey @emeraldcrs @freyabear @floralscented @cosmopolitan-thedrink @jwritestuff @suhnisideup @spookyysinsanity @kimxwinchester @bleuatlas @deansbbyx @angelicjackles @deansbeer @artemys-ackles @bluemerakis @misatxox @star-yawnznn @ambiguous-avery @sl33pylilbunny @k-slla @deanswidow @psychicnatural @ghostlyaccurate

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[kaiyunsim]

paw paradise —

pairing : idol!jake x daycare worker!reader

summary : jake's dog, layla, has been attending a doggy daycare and has taken a liking to you… and maybe the owner too.

a/n : i love jake. i love golden retriever energy.

— wc : 1.1k — not proof read —

jake sim has always been a morning person. the soft light spilling through his curtains, the chirping of birds outside his window, and most importantly, the enthusiastic barking of his golden retriever, layla, are enough to pull him out of bed with a smile. layla is practically vibrating with energy as jake clips on her leash.

“ready for daycare, girl?” he asks, scratching behind her ears. layla responds with a happy bark, tail wagging furiously.

every morning, jake drops layla off at a local doggy daycare while he heads to practice. it’s a cozy little place tucked between a coffee shop and a florist, with colorful murals of dogs painted on the outside walls. it’s called "paw paradise," and it’s as much of a haven for jake as it is for layla.

you work there, and you’ve seen layla plenty of times. she’s impossible to miss, bounding in with her golden coat practically glowing, a stark contrast to the sleepy-eyed boy holding her leash. you’ve always thought jake was cute in an approachable, golden-retriever-boy kind of way, but you’ve never had the chance to really talk to him. he’s usually in and out within minutes, his mornings rushed and busy.

one morning, you’re at the front desk, checking in dogs and chatting with their owners, when jake walks in. his smile is soft but genuine as he approaches, layla’s leash wrapped securely around his hand.

“hey,” he says, sliding the daycare’s sign-in clipboard toward himself. “how’s it going?”

“it’s good,” you reply, trying not to sound too nervous. “how about you?”

“can’t complain. layla’s been up since six, so she’s ready to burn off some energy.”

as if to prove his point, layla wags her tail so hard that her whole body shakes. you laugh, crouching down to give her a few pats. “she’s such a sweetheart.”

jake’s grin widens. “she likes you. that’s rare; she’s usually all about the dogs.”

it’s a small comment, but it sticks with you. there’s something about the way he says it, casual but warm, that makes your chest flutter.

after jake leaves, you’re busy with the usual daycare chaos—feeding schedules, playtime rotations, cleaning up after the more “exuberant” dogs. but layla’s easy. she gets along with everyone, her gentle nature making her a favorite among the other pups. you find yourself sneaking her extra belly rubs during breaks, thinking about her equally charming owner.

the days pass in a blur of wagging tails and barking dogs. jake becomes a familiar face, always polite and friendly, but never lingering too long. you start noticing little things about him: the way he always thanks you before leaving, the way he scratches layla’s ears like she’s the center of his world. it’s endearing, but you keep your distance. after all, he’s just another client.

one weekend, the daycare hosts a small "pup playdate" event for clients and their dogs. it’s meant to be a casual gathering with snacks, games, and plenty of room for the dogs to play. you’re busy setting up when jake arrives, layla trotting happily beside him.

“hey,” he says, balancing a tray of cupcakes. “i brought these. figured the humans might want snacks, too.”

“nice touch,” you reply, smiling. “you didn’t have to, though.”

“well, layla insisted,” he jokes. “and by insisted, i mean she stared at me while i baked.”

throughout the event, you notice how easily jake fits in. he chats with other dog owners, laughing as layla plays tug-of-war with a beagle while she is twice her size. at one point, he joins you by the snack table, where you’re refilling bowls of treats.

“this is really nice,” he says. “you guys put a lot of effort into it.”

“thanks,” you reply, brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face. “it’s fun seeing all the dogs together.”

“you’re good at this,” he adds, his voice warm. “the dogs love you. layla especially.”

his words catch you off guard, but before you can respond, a chorus of barking erupts as the dogs chase after a stray ball. jake laughs and jogs over to join the chaos, leaving you feeling oddly flustered.

a few days later, jake surprises you again. this time, it’s a rainy morning, and he’s soaked from head to toe when he walks in. “i forgot my umbrella,” he explains, shaking water off his jacket. “but layla needed her playtime.”

you grab him a towel, trying not to laugh. “here, dry off before you catch a cold.”

as you softly dry his hair, you notice how his usually neat appearance is a little disheveled. it’s strangely endearing, and you can’t help but offer him a cup of tea from the staff kitchen.

“you don’t have to,” he says, but you wave him off.

“consider it a thank-you for all those coffees you’ve brought me.”

the two of you sit by the window, watching the rain as layla happily plays in the indoor area. the conversation flows easily, moving from lighthearted topics to deeper ones. jake tells you about how he adopted layla during a tough time in his life, how she’s been his constant source of joy. you share stories about your journey to working at the daycare, your dreams of opening your own place someday.

these little moments start to add up. jake’s visits become a highlight of your day, and you find yourself looking forward to seeing him more than you’d like to admit. but it’s still just friendly… at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

one evening, as you’re locking up the daycare, jake’s car pulls into the parking lot. layla’s head pops out the window, barking happily when she sees you.

“hey,” jake says, stepping out of the car. “i know it’s late, but we were just at the park and thought we’d swing by.”

“lucky me,” you say, grinning. “what’s up?”

jake rubs the back of his neck, looking unusually neevous. “actually, i wanted to ask you something.”

“oh?”

he takes a deep breath. “i was wondering if you’d like to go out sometime. like, just us. no dogs.”

your heart skips a beat. “i’d like that,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

jake’s face breaks into the brightest smile you’ve ever seen. “great. how about this weekend?”

“it’s a date,” you reply, and layla barks as if in agreement. “c’mon in, i’ll give you a ride home”

“if you insist” you couldn’t hold back a smile.

you’ve always believed in the magic of dogs, but you never one to lead you to someone like jake.

turns out, paw paradise really is paradise after all.

[depressedquetzal]

I am Therian, Otherkin, Alterhuman, Fictionkin, and am questioning having archetropes

*Takes a deep breath* Wolf, human with raven wings and instincts also known as an Avian, shapeshifter, Nagito from Danganronpa, Mistoffelees from Cats the Musical, Orin from Little Shop of Horrors, Dev from The Unwanteds Quests, Neuvillette from Genshin Impact, Munkustrap from Cats the Musical, The Namirin from The Library of Broken Worlds, Vil from Twisted Wonderland, Tenehet from The Library of Broken Worlds, and possibly Koaru from Ouran Highschool Host Club

I almost always shift mentally though I’ve been shifted physically more recently especially as Mistoffelees and a wolf. My cameo shifts are usually just my shapeshifter identity taking in new forms so I don’t really count them as cameos

I have a hard time focusing on how I feel so I only really feel my alterhumanity and kin shifts when I’m actively focused on them except for really intense shifts. I often check in with myself to see who I am because shifting can affect my mental state and how I respond to things around me

The community is fun and I like talking to others but I wish we could stop talking about discourse as much and talk more about celebrating our identities and getting to know each other a bit more

Reading my sources and being in nature. Also inducing shifts can be really euphoric

Most of my identities are human or human adjacent so not too much except when I’m fully a wolf or shapeshifted into another creature

Trust your gut and don’t be afraid to talk to those you trust. You don’t have to figure this out alone. Let your community guide you

I don’t have gear but I’d like to get cosplays for some of my more common kind. Hopefully getting an outfit for Dev soon so I’m excited for that!!!

I believe in a mix of multiverse and reincarnation theory, where all my kins have a linear timeline for when I was them so I still have the same soul but they were in different universes in the multiverse. Also I believe psychologically my autism is what allowed me to access my past memories due to not caring as much for social norms

@talon-dragonbeast @the-wolftopia @pixistix-xp @moss-ridden-owl-creature @chaos-creature-on-the-roof

If you are a alterhuman, reblog and answer these questions!

(don't be afraid to write a lot, do what you want ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯)

1/ Which category of alterhumanity do you belong to?

2/ What/who is/are your type(s)? (if you have any)

3/ Do you experience shifts? If so, can you tell us your most common shifts and your strangest cameo shift (if you've ever had a cameo shift)?

4/ How do you experience your alterhumanity in everyday life?

5/ What do you think of the community?

6/ What are the things that make you most comfortable and euphoric in your alterhumanity?

7/ Are you experiencing species dysphoria?

8/ What advice would you like to say to a young alterhuman who has just awakened?

9/ Do you have/want to have gears?

10/ Do you know/have any theories about the origin of your alterhumanity? If so, tell us! (all beliefs are legitimate)

11/ Tag someone/a creature to answer these questions!ㅤᵕ̈

[rsepetals]

glasses. thinking about loser! choso who begsssss you to ride his face while he wears his glasses. nsfw bc im a freak, face ridin’, bj, public sex, sub!choso. drabble. minors do not interact!

loser!choso whom everyone labeled as weird. he often exhibited awkwardness, frequently stumbling over his words and never truly finding his place among his peers. the students on the rather small campus often speculated about how he had managed to win your affection, ultimately attributing it to financial means. they found it difficult to believe that someone like choso kamo could be with someone like you without some form of concealed advantage.

choso’s awkwardness was often the subject of whispers and jokes, but you saw past all of that. you saw the kindness in his heart, the way he would go out of his way to help others, even if it meant making a fool of himself. you appreciated his genuine nature, his ability to make you laugh, and the way he looked at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

choso was also great in bed. shockingly so. at first you could barely believe how great it was, how great he was. you didn't know how to explain it, but you couldn't get enough of it.

“oh cho,” soft moans continuously bubble from your raw throat, hands shakily pulling against dark roots as you glide swollen lips across his face. clammy fingers grip into your plush thighs, pulling you harder against his mouth as he sucks on your clit, his nose digging into your slick folds, tongue hungrily lapping. “feels so good,” your head hangs low as you bite your lips, a poor attempt to stifle your whines in the back of the library.

he loves the way the rims press into the sides of his face and dig into the bridge of his nose with each roll of your thick hips. his face soaked, your wetness covering his chin. his glasses foggy, yet his eyes never leave yours. he watches you come undone above him, his cock achingly hard. his mouth watering as he licks his lips clean of you.

still quivering, you slide off of him, kneeling on the floor. effortlessly your fingers pull him through the zipper of his jeans. he gasps when you grab his base, and begin stroking him. his breaths are ragged, back arching, hand fisting his backpack beside him as he bucks his hips into your warm palm. “m’not gonna last i-i-fuckkkk.” you’ve barely touched the man and he’s already falling apart. sweat beading down his forehead despite the temperature in the old building being a cool seventy.

he pulsates, pre cum oozing out of his slit and dribbling down his pretty shaft, coating your fingers. “it’s okay baby boy.” you hum softly pressing a kiss to the tip, swiping your tongue along the head, tasting him. a long drawn out whine has him clamping his hands over his mouth, hips stuttering.

“oh my god, oh my god.” he’s an incoherent mess as you slowly take him in your mouth, inch by inch, until you can feel him hitting the back of your throat. choso is huge, the thickest you had ever had and it was always a struggle to take him fully.

he grunts as you start bobbing your head up and down, his head thrown back and his toes curling in his vans. you hollow your cheeks, sucking him, stroking his base, using your spit as lube to slick him up. he’s close, you can tell by the way his hips are thrusting lazily into your mouth. his thighs tense and his balls tightening. you continued your ministrations, your free hand cupping and rolling his heavy sack, squeezing him.

“love you s’much!” his hands pull gently on your hair, tugging you off him as his release spurts all over his chest. you pant, your glossy eyes wide and your pupils blown, hand steadily pumping him through his orgasm. “that’s it sweet boy, let it out.”

he’s seeing white as his head tilts forward. he watches with a gulp as you run your finger along his cum covered chest, scooping some of his release and pushing it past your lips, licking it off your fingers. he can’t help the blush that paints his cheek and you chuckle, tucking him back into his pants with a forehead kiss.

loser!choso, who really loves his girlfriend and also really needs a new shirt.

𝑅𝒮𝐸𝒫𝐸𝒯𝒜𝐿𝒮 all rights reserved. comments, reblogs and likes are highly appreciated ♡︎

[makismei]

❝ ALL YOU EVER WANTED FROM ME WAS SWEET NOTHING!

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ geto x f!reader

cw: fwb to lovers, college!au suggestive content, modern! au, fluff, minor angst, MEN YEARNING, failing out of college, reader needs academic validation to live apparently

synopsis: he’ll love you, just as you are— even if you’re too soft for the world, he’ll gladly be your shield

suguru’s in love with you. it’s no secret.

as you lay on his chest, sweat slicked skin on skin, suguru wishes this pre arranged arrangement was more— he wishes you’d let him in, so he could love you more.

he tries, really. he wants to know you. anything about you.

at this point, he knows your body like the back of his hand. but your favourite colour? no idea. he would guess pink, but that’s only because you own a lot of pink tops.

you like sweets. recently, you’ve garnered a fascination for mochi donuts.

but all this information has come from his observant nature— you’ve never opened up to him, except for that one time, when you cried in his arms, seeking connection, another person’s warmth.

that was also the day you became friends with benefits.

whenever he tries to conduct a mini interview on you, you shut him out, telling him he doesn’t need to know those things.

he knows that you know he loves you.

he’s said it one too many times, when he’s most vulnerable, buried in you. but not once has he heard it back.

but it’s okay. he has a feeling that you’re starting to fall in love with him too.

you’ve started telling him about your day, as well as extremely vague plans for the next. suguru know he’s grasping at air, but he swears he can feel it in his hands.

“can we try?” he whispers, uncertain. to tell you the truth— suguru, as suave and handsome and perfect as he is, isn’t immune to insecurity. girls throw themselves at his feet, but he couldn’t care less because they’re not you.

you sit up. your warmth leaving him shatters his heart.

his room, air humid with sweat and sex, suddenly feels icy. but he gazes longingly at your back, at the scars on your elbows that probably have stories behind them— stories he craves so desperately to know.

“what’s so bad about it?” he continues, “is it me?”

“don’t ask stupid questions,” you retort. but he hears a shaky breath leave your lips, quiet cries filling the room.

he sits up, hand on your back. “look at me.”

he’s got you.

you shake your head, mindlessly bringing a finger to your lips, picking at the dead skin— a nervous tick.

“don’t do that,” suguru says, fingers cupping your jaw, gently turning your head so he can see your face. his thumb runs along your poor bottom lip, catching blood on his finger.

“i get overwhelmed easily,” you mutter, eyes glancing down in shame, “i shut people out when i feel too vulnerable and i’m mean.”

he huffs a laugh, thumb brushing against your cheekbone. “you’re protecting yourself and that’s okay.”

“i’m a shut-in, i don’t like leaving the house and i’m not romantic at all.” you continue and he nods, gaze never faltering.

“you like shoujo anime. especially the episodes with trips or big events.” he whispers, watching you pout. how cute, he thinks, like a petulant child who just wants to be noticed.

a tear streams down your cheek, wetting his thumb as he tries to wipe them away, but it’s like rainfall, so he lets you feel it out.

“i failed out of college,” you voice breaks, “the only thing i was supposed to be good at.”

you’re sobbing, head down in shame and suguru just pulls you into his arms. he rubs a hand soothingly up and down your back, heart absolutely shattering at the sounds of your cries.

“your failures don’t define you,” he mutters, “you’re still smart, capable and hard working. that doesn’t change.”

you pull away, staring him in the face and suguru thinks you’re so beautiful, so vulnerable in a way he hasn’t seen before.

“how do you know?” you sniffle, “you don’t know anything about me.”

he smiles, nodding. suguru wipes your tears, “i wonder why.”

you click your tongue, mustering a glare that holds absolutely no malice. he breathes a quiet laugh, “you’d bend over backwards for your so-called friends, even though none of them realize what you’re going through right now.”

“i don’t want them to know.” you refute.

“i bet you didn’t want me to know either,” he chastises, but it’s soft and his hands are so warm. “but i know now, because you’re important to me. i don’t want you to go through it all alone.”

you’re still glaring, but the crease between your brows have softened. “do you have a saviour complex?”

he shakes his head, “just a thing for damsels in distress, i guess.”

you pinch his arm. he takes your hand and it brings it to his lips. you feel warmth flood your body, but you don’t know if you deserve it.

“what if this ends up being the worst decision you’ll ever make?” you whisper and it’s the first time he’s heard you sound so insecure.

suguru cups your face in his hands, long black hair framing his face. his hair is so long that it tickles your skin, what would your parents say, when you bring home a guy with hair this long?

you can’t find it in you to care, because you know this guy loves you wholeheartedly. you don’t even know what you did to deserve it.

“it won’t be.” and it’s resolute, “haven’t i told you enough? that i love you?”

you nod slowly, tears finally drying.

he leans in, lips brushing against yours. “i’ll put in the work to make you believe me, to trust me.”

you laugh, “you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

you realize here and now, that out of everyone in your life so far, suguru is the only one who doesn’t ask anything of you. he just loves you and it feels unbelievable.

suguru laughs, his forehead touching yours. “i should be telling you that.”

manga panel from my love story with yamada-kun at lv999 ^.^

[puckinghischier]

Quinn 1000% percent is the type of boyfriend who quietly takes care of you. He may not be flashy with his gestures but they’re always endearing.

i will live and die by the fact that man is the most intense but gentle lover there ever is.

it’s like, day by day his love is quiet and reserved, but looking back over the course of your relationship, you realize just how intense his love really is. because of course he’s vocal about the fact he loves you, never leaving it unsaid anytime you two part, even if just for a few minutes.

but really, it’s all the things he does you don’t even know about. it’s the days you come home and forget there was a pile of laundry you told yourself you needed to do, because it’s done already.

it’s the moments when you talk about needing to go to the store to replace your favorite coffee creamer, but groggily opening the fridge the next morning to a fresh bottle, not even registering the added weight in your hands.

it’s never running out of your favorite skincare products, somehow always having an endless supply. always having your favorite snack on hand. always having a full tank of gas. always having a soft blanket on your side of the couch.

day to day, these things don’t even cross your mind. your routine is so…routine, that you never wonder why all of these thing are. they just are.

until you see quinn come home after practice with a few bags in hand, one branded exactly the same as your favorite nighttime serum. or a grocery bag with a familiar looking carton poking through the frosted plastic.

you don’t question it until you walk out of the bathroom after a shower to him sitting a full cup of water on your night stand, that way you can crawl right into bed. not until you step into the living room to see him folding your favorite blanket, freshly washed, and tossing it over the back of the couch where you always sit.

your suspicion isn’t there until you get back from a walk to see your car gone, but quinn’s still in its parking spot.

you never wonder why your favorite flowers on the kitchen table never wilt until you see the branded brown paper from the local florist in the trash can.

the point is, you never think about it because you don’t have to. quinn does everything he can to show he cares about you, he loves you, he sees you. and he does it quietly, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

so yeah, day to day he might be quiet, focused on hockey and his team, watching footage of old games and opposing teams while you’re reading next to him on the couch, but he’s never quiet with his love for you. not really.

when you look back on all he does for you, with no complaint or mention of it at all, it’s almost suffocating. it’s suffocating in the best way, to know how intensely he pays attention to you and how effortlessly he shows you, without you even knowing.

[da2supremacy]

Essentially the ethos of a dragon age game has always been something you can roll around in your hands and interrogate. Dragon Age games have never been some great awesome piece of art that belongs in the MoMA or whatever. Honestly, I haven't really enjoyed the gameplay of a single one except Veilguard and the OG devs personal prejudices are glaringly obvious with even just a cursory read. But the World Building is magnificent and the game let's you disagree with it. Some people hate that. It's why they're constantly whinging about the "all sidesism" or whatever. I don't really think the rampant centrism and borderline fascism was present until Inquisition. CAN you be a fascist in 2? Terrible in origins? Sure. But there's a world around you that reacts to that and when you're a truly awful prick there actually are gameplay and story consequences.

The Inquisition is a righteous religious army taking over sovereign lands for the greater good and the only person who ever questions that gets treated like he's gone insane. Yet even Inquisition gives you more opportunity to interrogate the justness of the Inquisition's existence than Veilguard allows you to question the merits of Solas' goals.

Because some of his goals (as stated in Trespasser anyway) DO have merit. While I may not personally agree with the notion of tearing down the Veil it IS a wound that he carved onto the world and he probably is the only person who could get rid of it. Not to mention they've spent 3 games all but telling us that the Veil was falling apart already anyway. If Solas did nothing the reckoning with the fall of the Veil would have to be addressed eventually because it was happening whether he did anything about it or not. Maybe his method actually would have been better than him sitting back and letting the Blights and the blood magic and the all the other things that were weakening the Veil collapse it naturally. We've seen places where that happened and it's always been pretty bad actually.

But the game never lets you sit with that. I am willing to believe that the 10 years and the region shift could have allowed enough events to equalize most world states but in trying not to say anything about Worldstates they straight up didn't engage with ANYTHING that came beforehand at all. John Epler's insane misunderstanding that people sympathizing with Solas is a FEATURE and not a bug, this is the franchise that gave us Meredith and Loghain and Anders, decided that the pathos of the game's supposed main antagonist and final boss could not be mentioned at all???

The game proves that the Chantry is based off of a woman's misinterpretations of visions she could in no way have ever understood (if you squint you can kind of see the shades of both the Evanuris and the Titans in the the story of the Chantry. Add that to the theory that Andraste was an OGB and well...) and the game itself doesn't mention the Maker or the doctrine of the Chantry at all. All sides of the Western Schism were still Catholics. Being in Tevinter does not actually justify why apparently no one is devout to the Chantry.

This game is great but it's a standard hero's journey. Rook grapples with nothing and sacrifices nothing. Even the one mandatory Companion death really isn't Rook's fault. I don't know how Solas ever thought that prison would hold them. I never actually have to think or question anything. I never actually made a difficult decision. You could replace the place names and file Solas off of the narrative and this could be literally any other fantasy title. The things that made Thedas unique are not there.

I am not calling this game poorly written. It's fine for what it is. It's not a WRONG decision to not include things that weren't directly relevant to the game's narrative and all things considered this game only actually got 3 years of real development time. There's probably a lot that got cut. But I do think still centering Solas as the final boss and the preservation of the Veil as the final obstacle to overcome and then not actually engaging with WHY he is really doing what he's doing and WHY that's actually wrong is a bizarre choice. It really does seem like John Epler was scared they couldn't convince the player as to why they needed to not rip it down and so they sidestepped the question entirely.

The thing about Solas in DAtV is that because they were fundamentally unwilling to engage with the question of whether or not the Veil should actually come down (which is a symptom of them refusing to engage with anything remotely 'problematic' in the franchise to date: slavery, elven oppression, treatment of both city elves and Dalish etc.) he goes from a character who is supposed to be the embodiment of wisdom to a character who is kinda stupid. And further, it affects our questions surrounding his motives and relationships, his actions in inquisition and how compelling he is.

Like, there's a lot of people arguing ATM about whether or not a romanced Lavellans relationship with Solas was meaningful/if she knew him compared to how Rook knows him/if he loved her more than Mythal. And I think the answer is very tied up in this particular issue with the writing.

Because if Solas is a revolutionary who believes that the veil must come down, not just to fix a perceived wrong he did, but for the good of elvenkind...if we take a Solas who says 'people are always dying, it's what they do' and realise that he's saying that because PEOPLE DIDNT USED TO DIE and the way their lives are now so short is terrifying to him, if we take a Solas who says that the world today is full of those who seem tranquil to him and take that SERIOUSLY, if we get a Solas who is sickened by the way spirits are yearning for the world the way it was but are stuck in the fade without any contact and that's twisting them into demons and those willing to possess others to taste a glimpse of what was denied to them by HIS actions...

Then we get a Solas whose actions don't just make sense but we can see WHY they make sense. We get a Solas who is, yes, committing an act of horrendous violence by tearing down the veil but is doing so to literally save the world rather than just fix a regret or because he's bound up in Mythal somehow and what she would have wanted for the world.

THAT Solas who leaves Lavellan because of his revolution he must lead, who leaves Lavellan after seeing what this world does to those who are left of the people, that Solas...I think that we could then argue more than the relationships he formed in inquisition were real and he was tragically forced away from them by his own goals. That in some way he is doing this FOR Lavellan.

There should be a sort of semi-horror tint to this world for us through Solas's eyes because we can see a world of tranquil walking around like he does, a world where life is too short, a world of injustice and pain and reasons to go ahead with his plan

But Solas....kinda lacks agency in DAtV. I don't hate the Solas Mythal plot stuff I think it's quite interesting, but mix it with us never considering the merits of what Solas wants to do, of EVERYONE unilaterally deciding it's evil with no real debate or queries, with ZERO elves in the narrative siding with Solas or taking what he has to say seriously...THATS where adding the Solas and Mythal plot rubs me the wrong way. I don't want Solas to need to be released by Mythal before he can let go of his evil plan...I want a Solas who doesn't have an evil plan but instead a complex one. I want the conviction of Anders in Solas; that what he's doing is RIGHT and the ONLY WAY to fix a great injustice. I don't want to redeem Solas or even understand him I want him to CONVINCE me and me BELIEVE him. Otherwise the Solas we see in inquisition is more shallow and the Solas we see in Veilguard through Rook...maybe Rook does know him better than the inquisition did.

[wendichester]

helloooo! :D I wanted to ask if you’d ever write for cas? It’s completely okay if not, only do what YOU want <33

BUT I also had a thought so hear me out:

Dean calling the reader a pet name for the first time, and not really realizing what he said but the reader is just like 😵‍💫 all blushy caught off guard because THE Dean Winchester just called her honey as if they didn’t confess like a week ago 🧍🏻‍♀️

remember to eat and hydrate, I hope you sleep well too💙

-💫

��˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆🔧 honey,

summary. you're dean's honey .ᐟ

pairing. dean winchester x reader

wordcount. 469

notes. this is just wholesome and... relatable. and i'd definitely be down to write for our sweet sassy angel cas! do you have a specific scenario in mind? 👀

The clang of tools against the Impala’s hood fills the garage, a melody as familiar as breathing. You’re perched on a stool nearby, half-focused on the book in your lap, but mostly on Dean. His hands move deftly as he tinkers under the hood, a smear of grease streaked across his jaw.

“Pass me the wrench, would ya?” he says, glancing at you with those green eyes that always manage to make your stomach flutter.

You nod, leaning over the workbench to grab it. When you hand it to him, his fingers brush yours—just a brief, fleeting touch, but enough to send a spark racing through you.

“Thanks, honey,” he mutters absently, turning back to the car.

Your brain short-circuits.

Honey?

Did Dean Winchester just call you honey?

You blink, replaying the moment in your head to make sure you didn’t imagine it. No, you’re sure of it. He said it so casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The book in your lap is forgotten as you try to process the anomaly. A week ago, you and Dean finally confessed your feelings for each other, and while things have been a bit more... touchy-feely, this? This is new.

“Uh… you good over there?” Dean’s voice breaks through your spiraling thoughts. He glances at you again, brows furrowed slightly.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, totally fine,” you blurt, your face heating up.

He smirks, the corner of his mouth twitching like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. “You sure? You’re lookin’ a little pink.”

“I’m not pink,” you mumble, pulling the book back into your lap and staring at it like it holds the secrets to the universe.

Dean shrugs, clearly oblivious to the bombshell he’s just dropped on you, and goes back to work. But the damage is done. The word honey keeps bouncing around in your head, making your heart race and your palms sweaty.

Minutes pass, and you try desperately to regain your composure. But then Dean turns to you again, wiping his hands on a rag. “You wanna grab lunch? Burgers sound good?”

“Sure,” you manage, your voice a little too high.

Dean tilts his head, his smirk widening. “Seriously, what’s up with you? You’re acting weird.”

“I’m not acting weird,” you protest, even though you’re about two seconds away from combusting.

“Uh-huh,” he says, clearly unconvinced. “C’mon, let’s go, honey.”

There it is again.

You let out a small squeak, your cheeks flaming as you follow him out of the garage. Dean doesn’t even notice, but you’re left reeling, wondering how someone can casually call you honey and not realize they’re turning you into a puddle.

And as you climb into the passenger seat of the Impala, you can’t help but smile, even through your embarrassment. You're Dean Winchester’s honey.

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles

[thewistlingbadger]

Analyzing Viktor's eyes:

We've talked about how Jayce is never repulsed or afraid of the major changes to Viktor's body and accepts him instantly whenever he sees something that should not be the way it is when it comes to Viktor's body. What we have YET to talk about is just how Jayce doesn't turn away from Viktor's purple and metal body, he does not turn away from Viktor's steel and muted eyes and I think this is VERY IMPORTANT.

Because in season two Viktor's eyes are somewhat symbolic of his humanity. Viktor's eyes are naturally yellow and are one of the most distinctive elements to his design but after his transfusion with the hexcore they become this empty gray that sometimes changes color. It looks very weird and inhuman and nothing like Viktor. The only time we see Viktor's natural eyes in season two is in the astral plane, where he also maintains his season one hairstyle and features and build. However once Viktor goes full machine herald his eyes are completely gone. His face is split in half and the eyes of his mask contain no pupil or iris. It is only two glowing slits of yellow, both in the astral plane and in the actual world (although in the actual world Viktor's "eyes" actually take on a spherical shape but still it is literally just two glowing spheres of yellow). ADDITIONALLY even though is face is split we can still see it under the mask and we see his eyes are CLOSED. As if he is closed off from his humanity after fully becoming the machine herald or just refuses to look at it or the consequences of his actions.

It is JAYCE who's responsible for the return of Viktor's natural eye color once Viktor has become the machine herald. Viktor's machine herald mask in the astral plane BREAKS because Ekko throws the z drive directly at Viktor's face. We're able to see half of Viktor's real face and half of his mask when Jayce reveals that Viktor was the mage all along. The mask does not fully come off until AFTER Jayce hugs Viktor in the astral plane and Viktor pulls away from the hug. Jayce's hug is why we're now able to see both of Viktor's eyes.

This whole journey with Viktor's eyes and the relationship between him and Jayce is very fascinating to me for several reasons:

Jayce took away Viktor's humanity by fusing the hexcore to him. But Jayce is also the same person that made Viktor realize that humanity was beautiful because of its flaws. He is the one that made Viktor human again, literally. Jayce is the reason why Viktor's eyes change color in the first place AND he is also the one that is responsible for them returning to their original color.

Jayce and Viktor spend a lot of time looking at each other throughout the show but ESPECIALLY in season two. The first thing Jayce does when he's actually reunited with Viktor after their initial separation and Jayce's trip to the bad au is STARE AT VIKTOR. Viktor looks so different and is floating in the air and all Jayce could do was stare at him. The next time they meet after this, Viktor tries to hold Jayce's eye contact in the astral plane but Jayce isn't in the astral plane with him. So instead of seeing Viktor's eyes Jayce just sees the cold face of someone Viktor turned into a machine. Jayce looks Viktor in the eye almost the entirety of their finale in the astral plane. The last thing Jayce and Viktor ever do in the show is look at each other AND they spend their final moments in the show facing each other but WITH THEIR EYES CLOSED!

Eye contact is very important to humans. Eyes in general are just really important to humans. Not only for the practical reason, to see things, but also on an emotional and spiritual level. "The eyes are the window to the soul." You can tell a lot about someone by the way their eyes look and how they look when they look at things. The pupils of our eyes grow and shrink based off what we're looking at and sometimes that dilation is in accordance to how much we like something. You can see in the finale that Jayce and Viktor's pupils are practically blown out they're so big. You can communicate a lot just by using your eyes, without ever saying a single word.

Jayce is never really aghast by Viktor's body no matter how horrific it looks because Jayce cares about Viktor. When he sees him on the brink of death in the council room and sees how his leg is glowing purple, his first thought isn't "what the fuck is wrong with Viktor's leg." His first thought is "I have to save Viktor from dying." When Jayce actually got Viktor to the lab and saw the entity of Viktor's body he wasn't thinking about how inhumane and wrong it looked. He was only thinking about how the hexcore better be able to fix Viktor. When Viktor is stable but unresponsive for several days after the transfusion, Jayce isn't thinking about Viktor's notes on his self experimentation or how Viktor's body had several runes carved into it. He was thinking about whether or not Viktor was okay. Whether or not Viktor was going to ever wake up. When Viktor DOES wake up and is entirely purple and shiny and able to walk without a mobility aid and stand up straight without a brace, his first thought is "what the fuck happened to me and to my body? What have I become am I still human what am I?" And Jayce's first thought to seeing a Viktor of purple, metallic flesh is "holy shit, it worked. It worked, Viktor is alive and awake and back." Towards the end of the show when Jayce sees the machine herald for the first time, he isn't terrified by the fact that Viktor is extremely tall and other worldly looking. He isn't disgusted by Viktor's third arm or distorted voice or lack of a face or his unnaturally slim waist. He doesn't even look phased or bothered at all. Instead, one of the first things he says upon seeing the machine herald is "there must be some part of you that's still in there." After this interaction, after Viktor and him fight and it seems like Viktor is going to take his life away from Jayce, Jayce STILL is adamant on the idea that Viktor, his friend, his partner of several years, is still alive. Jayce fully believes that Viktor is still within the machine herald and he has so much faith that he risks his own life and the lives of everyone else on his belief. As Viktor actually begins to turn Jayce into a machine, Jayce spends his last words telling Viktor about how his humanity is beautiful and how he still believes in Viktor. Jayce's wholehearted care for Viktor is what ends up saving everyone! Jayce sees Viktor's body go through horrific transformations throughout the season and it doesn't impact the way he views Viktor in the slightest. He saw the way Viktor's body looked and never asked a single question about it and never asked questions about Viktor's notes on self experimentation. So of course he's not phased by Viktor's eyes being a different color. Jayce is able to see Viktor's humanity even when Viktor doesn't look or act like a human.

But arguably the reason why I find this so fascinating, why I'm so intrigued that Jayce has no concern for the fact that Viktor's eyes are no longer yellow is because Viktor's eyes are arguably Viktor's most important feature TO JAYCE. Viktor's eyes and their color and their intensity is something that Jayce canonically has taken notice of and has found importance in. In the finale montage, we see a shot of Viktor from Jayce's perspective on the night they met. The shot is the exact shot used in the beginning of the show. When you compare the two shots, the one from act 1 s1 and the one from act 3 S2, they are IDENTICAL WITH ONLY ONE MAJOR EXCEPTION. VIKTOR'S EYES. Viktor's eyes in the shot used in the finale are MORE yellow, MORE intense, and more distinct than they were in the original shot at the start of the show. This shot is from Jayce's perspective, so it's showing us how Jayce perceived and remembered Viktor to be. This detail is the reason I even wanted to write this post. Viktor's eyes are clearly an aspect that Jayce pays attention to and yet he didn't utter a single word when he saw that they were completely different.

[solxamber]

Hi! i’d like Pomefiore, 2, fluff for the holiday event please. super excited to see how it turns out!

Sweet as Sugar || Rook Hunt

For the Holiday Event! || Theme: Cooking/Baking together ; Genre: Fluff

The setting sun sparkled through the windows, casting a warm glow over the kitchen as Rook meticulously arranged the ingredients for your baking adventure. This was his idea, of course. “Romantic partners,” he’d declared with a dramatic flourish, “must partake in this most domestic and delightful tradition!”

You had agreed, mostly because his enthusiasm was contagious. But now, you were starting to think you’d underestimated just how distracting Rook could be.

He’d rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he stirred the batter with precise, almost reverent movements. You were supposed to be sifting flour, but instead, you stood frozen, spoon in hand, blatantly staring.

“Mon amour,” his voice lilted, amusement clear in his tone. “Have I captured your attention so thoroughly? Shall I give the batter a dramatic monologue to truly complete the performance?”

Your face went hot as you fumbled to look away, mumbling something about how you weren’t staring that hard. But Rook’s grin widened, and in one swift motion, he abandoned the bowl, swept you up, and deposited you on the counter.

“Voilà,” he announced with a teasing bow, leaning in just enough that you could catch the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “A better vantage point for your… admiration.”

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

Rook chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from your face before returning to his task, his humming soft and melodic. You gave up on pretending to be useful, instead opting to dip your finger into the frosting bowl every chance you got.

“Perfect,” you declared after every taste test.

“Ah, but it is only perfect because you are here,” Rook replied, his tone softer now, more sincere. He glanced at you, his gaze holding yours a beat longer than necessary, and you felt your heart skip a beat.

When the cake was finally baked, frosted, and adorned with festive decorations, you leaned back against the counter, admiring your (well, mostly his) handiwork. It looked stunning, but Rook’s proud smile as he surveyed your work was what truly made the moment.

“C’est magnifique,” he said, but his eyes were on you, not the cake.

You didn’t even have time to respond before he scooped you off the counter again, spinning you in a circle like it was the most natural thing in the world. You laughed, clinging to his shoulders as he slowed, his face inches from yours.

“Rook, the hot chocolate's going to get cold,” you teased, trying to hide how fast your heart was beating.

“Let it,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours. “It could never compare to the warmth you bring me, mon trésor.”

And just like that, he kissed you, sweet and slow, like you were the only thing in the world worth savoring.

By the time you sat down to eat the cake together, curled up on the couch with a blanket around your shoulders, you couldn’t help but think that this was the best holiday tradition you’d ever had.

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