#not looking forward to the response on this one. ANYWAYS

[ot8xbangchansgirlsblog]

hiiii can you do an Hyunchan x reader where the boys are really mad at her an ignorining her and she has a panic attack.

ℙ𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖

Warning: Angst/fluff

Summary: Request!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

"Chan?" she called out softly, her voice barely rising above the hum of the quiet room as she stood by the living room door. The tension in the air was thick, heavy. It had been 12 hours since the argument, and neither Chan nor Hyunjin had said a word to her. The silence was suffocating, making her feel like she was going to lose it.

"Hyunjin?" She tried again, this time addressing the other side of the room, but once more, there was no response. Her heart pounded in her chest.

"Are you guys going to ignore me forever?" she muttered, barely more than a whisper. Still, neither of them budged, their backs turned, their attention focused elsewhere.

Her chest tightened, and the pressure behind her eyes threatened to spill over. "Please? I’m sorry… I just—please don’t ignore me," she begged, taking a few tentative steps forward, but the distance between them felt as if it were growing wider. She could feel the weight of their silence pressing down on her.

Hyunjin laid his head on Chan's shoulder, his body language as cold as his silence. They refused to look at her. The tears she had been holding back began to burn, stinging her eyes, threatening to fall as she silently begged them to forgive her for the words exchanged earlier.

Her breath hitched in her throat as she turned away, feeling the overwhelming weight of her emotions. Defeated, she slowly made her way to the kitchen. She could feel the air thick with tension, her body moving on autopilot as she began to prepare dinner. They had already eaten lunch without her earlier, and now, after just returning from practice, she was left to make dinner alone, as though everything was fine.

The tears blurred her vision, and her head spun with confusion and sorrow. It was as if the world was closing in on her, the weight of it all pressing harder with every passing second. She could hear her own thoughts, each one darker than the last, and she hated how powerless she felt to push them away.

Once the food was done and plated, she brought it to the table in silence. Her hands shook slightly as she set the plates down, then quietly made her way back to the living room.

"I made you guys some dinner, if you want it," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I put it on the table. I'll go eat in the room, so don't worry about me." She didn't wait for a response, knowing it was unlikely she’d get one.

Once in their room, she sat at her vanity, the food on her plate growing cold as she picked at it slowly, each bite feeling like it was stuck in her throat. The tears started to fall, silently at first, as she stared blankly ahead, lost in her own thoughts.

Would they break up with her? The thought kept running through her mind, a constant whisper of doubt that she couldn’t shake.

She hadn’t even noticed her breathing quicken, the pressure in her chest building, until it was almost too much to bear. Her chest tightened painfully, and her hands trembled as she clutched her chest. The feeling of rejection weighed heavily on her, and she felt the panic beginning to spiral.

"Please... enough," she whispered to herself, trying desperately to compose herself, but the sobs started to escape anyway. Her head throbbed, her heart raced, and the room felt like it was spinning. She felt utterly alone.

Then, the door opened.

Her heart skipped a beat, and through the mirror, she saw Chan and Hyunjin standing in the doorway. They had finished dinner.

She quickly wiped her eyes, but the damage was done. Her tears streaked down her cheeks as she bowed her head in embarrassment. Her breathing was still erratic, but she refused to let them see her like this, not wanting them to see how fragile she truly felt.

"Y/nnie? Baby?" Chan’s voice was hoarse, filled with concern, as he hurried to her side. Hyunjin was right behind him.

Chan knelt beside her, trying to catch her gaze, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She turned away, too embarrassed, her face flushed with shame.

"Hey… look at me," he urged gently, his hand reaching to cup her cheek, his touch warm and soft.

Her breathing quickened again, and she pulled away from his touch. "Please, I’m sorry..." she whispered, her voice shaking with each breath. "Please dont break up with me, i can change."

Hyunjin's frown deepened as he knelt beside her on the other side. "Y/nnie… you’re panicking," he said softly, his eyes filled with concern. "I’m so sorry I made you feel like this."

He truly had no idea it had gone this far. He never wanted her to feel like this, never wanted to push her to the point where she felt like she might lose them.

"You… you don’t have to be with me. I’ve accepted it," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Chan’s heart sank, and he pulled her gently off the chair, guiding her to the bed. He held her close, his hands reassuring as he wrapped her in his arms, trying to calm her.

"I’ll go make her some tea," Hyunjin whispered, but Chan didn’t let go, his focus entirely on her. He nodded, thankful for Hyunjin’s understanding.

"Hey… shhh," Chan whispered, his voice soft, soothing. "It’s okay. No one is going to leave you. We were just being assholes, and we should’ve talked things out with you, Y/nnie. I’m sorry." He kissed the top of her head, his words gentle but full of remorse.

But she wasn’t sure she believed him. If she weren���t in this state, would they still be mad at her?

"But you can’t just do that to me," she cried into his chest, her voice cracking. "It hurts, Chan. It hurts so much. I would never do that to you guys."

Chan’s grip tightened around her, his voice filled with regret. "You’re right, Y/n. We shouldn’t have treated you like that. We were just so angry, and now we’re learning from our mistakes. I never want to put you through this again, baby." He gently tilted her chin, urging her to meet his eyes. "Hey… look at me."

She slowly lifted her gaze to his, and his heart melted as he saw the pain still clouding her eyes.

"My beautiful girl," he whispered, his voice soft with affection and regret. "I’m so sorry. You can put me on any punishment duty you want."

"Anything?" she asked, her voice tinged with mischief, a small glimmer of her old spark returning in her eyes.

"Anything," Chan gulped, knowing that he and Hyunjin were about to go on a rollercoaster ride of their own making. But he would do whatever it took to make things right, for her.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Don't forget to reblog and follow! <3

A/N: Thank you anon!

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[fictionismyreality3]

Penpals with the 141

Warnings: stalkerish behaviour at the end teehee 🤭

Notes: if only I had a hot military man or men to send letters to 🤷🏻‍♀️😩

It started out as just another way to keep the boredom away. Sending care packages to military members was also a plus. You'd be staying busy and doing a good deed at the same time. You found some trustworthy-enough organization, signed up, and sent out your first letter along with a few goodies like choclates and warm socks.

The 141 had never really thought much about getting care packages from civilians. In their eyes it was just a good way to get the things they missed out on while on deployment. Most of the letters got tossed as soon as they opened the box.

That was until they got yours.

The stupid little smiley face drawn on the cardboard shouldn’t have stopped Simon in his tracks, but he found himself staring down at the doodle.

"L.T? Y'been standin' there fer a good 15 minutes." Soap remarked.

"S'that your favourite candy, right?"

Soap was swayed by the chocolate oranges, finding himself reading your letter as he scarfed down each wedge. The curly handwriting, the crossed out and rewritten words had him showing the letter to Gaz, and then Price. Soon you found yourself in an almost penpal situation. Over the exchange of more and more letters, you were able to dicern the personalities of each man who was writing to you.

There was Soap, who wrote in barely legible chicken scratch, often skipping words or even entire sentences, like he was thinking too fast for his hand to keep up. Always calling you 'bonnie' or 'lass'.

Gaz, who wrote much more formally. His hand writing was the best to read, neatly printed on the lines of the paper. You got the sense that he sat down and put his whole attention into writing back to you.

Ghost, who's name you were yet to learn, tacked on his responses at the end of the paper. It was rare to get more than a few sentances from him, and even rarer for them to be anything but small talk. Slowly, he began to open up, asking you how you were or if your boss had resolved that HR issue yet. How did he know that?

Price, who'd quickly insisted on you calling him John— makes me feel old, luv— was the one who you seemed the most interested in your life. You chalked it up to him wanting to have something to think about other than his life threatening job.

Questions about your living situation, your job, your hobbies, it all seemed like small talk. Easy enough to look over. And then came the questions about your bills. Does your job pay enough? When's the last time you've been on vacation? What does your ideal living situation look like? Are you in a relationship?

It wasn't just John who was asking. So we’re Gaz, Johnny, and even Ghost began to inquire about more personal details. Every time you got a letter, it was almost a pavlovian response for your cheeks to blush. You looked forwards to the letters from your far away military men, and they even sent you gifts!

A watch, just like the one on your pinterest, wrapped up in a pretty pink bow. They added on such a sweet note too.

"Synced up to our watches." Ghost.

"Thought you needed a little treat." Gaz

"Here you go, bonnie! Now you can know when we're awake!" Soap.

"Let me know if you need it tightened, sweetheart." John.

They didn't feel the need to tell you about the favour they called in with Laswell to get the micro-tracker added, or about the camera and microphone they planted in the watch face. You looked so pretty with it on anyways, they'd need to make sure nobody stared too long.

[american-horror-whore]

𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐌𝐞 | 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐋𝐢𝐩𝐤𝐚 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

cw — nsfw, smut with no plot, creampie, overstimulation,

a/n — i’m gonna start trying to write again, i’ve just been mad busy, bummed out and uninspired. quitting was on my radar for a hot second, and then i realized i legally cannot leave you guys. anyways, enjoy

“Warren!!” You shriek, the sensation of his large fingers digging into your thighs causing sparks to fly through your body. Warren’s hands held your legs open, feeling them shaking, quivering under his grip. Your soaking cunt was exposed to the air of warren’s bedroom, feeling his sharp thrusts bruising your walls further and further. You were sat on Warren’s lap, his cock buried deep inside of your heat, your walls clenched tightly around him.

“Don’t close your legs until I say you can,” Warren demanded gruffly, his lips right by your ear. His teeth sank down into the skin of the helix of your ear. “Don’t close your fucking legs,”

“I won’t, I won’t-!!” You cry, feeling Warren’s hard thrust up inside you, burying himself further and further into your cervix. His lips traced your neck, his tongue gliding across your flesh, teeth scraping your skin. His tongue pressed against your pulse point, almost sucking on it.

Warren thrusted up roughly once more before letting up, laying you on your back. His warm body hovered over yours, straddling you. He hurriedly held himself, tracing his already leaking tip around your hole. The head of his dick traced in an up-and-down motion around your throbbing opening, which was practically crying itself a river. You shudder, your fingers clawing roughly at the sheets below, hoping to find some sense of stability in the plush duvet.

“Feels good, huh? I can tell by the way you’re shaking..” Warren chuckled huskily, his dark eyes becoming heavy.

He dropped his length from his hands, your eyes instantly drawing to the now bobbing stiffy. Warren let out a soft sigh, pressing a soft kiss to your clitoris. You shuddered a bit, going white-knuckled from the desperate grip on the duvet. Warren’s lips, which were quite frankly a bit chapped, continued their movements, their kisses. His tongue flicked against his lips, a movement which he hoped would help to ease the cracking in his skin to make his lips smoother.

Warren’s kisses slowly made their way up to your breasts. Planting soft pecks to your left breast, Warren’s hand goes up to grope the flesh of your right breast. His calloused fingers pinch and twist at your nipple, hoping to get any sound out of you, whether pain or pleasure, he didn’t care. Warren pinched your nipple with more pressure, feeling it harden beneath his touch.

“Fuck—“ You whine softly, lolling your head back against the mattress, your legs wrapping around Warren one by one.

His kisses continue, now moving to the opposite breast. His lips suck on your flesh, his teeth sinking down into the supple skin. Warren’s lips surround your nipple, sucking gently as his tongue started to make small circles around the skin. Warren pulled his lips away with a soft pop, looking up at your face for a reaction, even a look. When the only thing he got was closed eyes and incoherent mumbles, he knew he was doing something right.

“Yeah, babe…” Warren muttered weakly against your flesh, mostly just to push dialogue in hopes for a response.

He moved his kisses to your collarbone, his lips practically engulfing the length of bone. Once he knew he had you focused on the kisses, he pushed himself back, then forward sharply, his erection landing deep inside of you.

“Agh—!” You squeal, your head shooting back up in pleasure. Your hands shoot to his body, his head buried deeply into your neck. His hips rock against you, flesh slapping against each other, sweat and tears mingling in a dangerously pleasing sexual cocktail.

Until he came. Deep, deep inside you.

“Oh-!! Agh…F—Fuck…” Warren groaned, his head pushed back as his hips rocked shakily, moving with an unsteady rhythm. Luckily, you’d finished at the same time, meaning the poor, already exhausted man wouldn’t have to wait for you.

His head was back, his hair somehow still hanging in his face. Warren’s eyes were practically glued shut, tight enough for him to develop crows feet. His jaw was slightly slack, moans and pathetic small whimpers escaping the orifice.

Warren sighed, attempting in a futile manner to regain the small shreds of dignity he had left. His eyes darted around before looking down at your bodies, pulling his hips back slightly. He pulled his hips back, his shaft escaping your slit with a wet pop. You let out a tiny moan, pushing out some of his aftermath.

“Shit, you’re…you’re really fuckin’ wrecked, huh..?” Warren chuckled, his fingertip pushing his way shallowly between your lower lips, collecting that sweet substance. He pressed his finger to your mouth with a small laugh, watching as your tongue circled his finger.

“Atta girl..” He muttered gruffly.

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[inmyheaddd]

✦ nobody gets me, you do - averyjameson

a/n: wooo games untold release day!!! the first part of this is so silly help i love max summary: avery has the worst interview in the world, with constant interruptions and snide comments. jameson is watching it from home, (along with his brothers, max, and lyra) and finds himself going to see avery, despite her team telling him no. wc: 2.4k

max was watching her best friends interview live on her phone, sitting in her boyfriends bed.

she could read her like an open book, and could tell something was definitely wrong. 

“xander,” she called out the boy next to her who was solving a 9x9 rubix cube leisurely, laying on his back with his hands up in the air. “are you seeing this? look what they’re doing to my girl avery.”

xander sat up, and watched for a few seconds. to xander, she looked how she did the first time he ever saw her: scared, uncomfortable, but trying to put on a brave face.

after just two seconds, he called out at the top of his lungs: “jamesoooonnnn.”

no response. 

max pulled xander out of the room — much to his dismay, and finally spotted jameson in one of the libraries.

she barely got a word in before jamesons eyes flickered to her phone that was still playing the interview. his brows furrowed, “you’re watching the interview too?”

“…of course i am,” she deadpanned, “i’m literally avery’s girlfriend.

xander raised a brow from beside max, and jameson and him shared a confused look. “oh… right.” jameson said as he nodded slowly. 

“yeah…!” xander added. “how could i forget?...” he chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head as his eyes flickered between jameson and max.

“you guys are weird…” max trailed off, confused at their strange reactions, when she said something so completely normal in her opinion. 

 “but look!” she exclaimed, “she literally looks so… uncomfortable. in their right mind allowed this interviewer to have a job?” she said, as the two brothers looked at the tiny screen on her phone showing avery’s interview live. 

they quickly ditched watching it on the phone, because jameson suggested they watch it on the large tv in one of their living rooms.  

max rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath that sounded like, “of course you’d suggest that.” but nodded anyway as the three made their way to the nearest living room. 

avery shifted in her seat slightly, her smile just a little off and strained as the interviewer asked another prying question.

“so, how does it feel to have your entire life handed to you on a silver platter- or shall i say, gold?” the audience laughed at the last line. his tone was light, but the implications were hard to miss.

avery smiled, like landon had rehearsed with her, trying to maintain her composure. 

“who the hell is this guy?” jameson scoffed, “seriously?” he stood up from the couch they were sitting on and ran a hand through his hair. 

“i wouldn’t exactly describe it that way,” she responded far too fast, so she went to correct herself— otherwise she wouldn’t her the end of it from her team. “but i’m endlessly grateful for all the opportunities i have, and for all the experiences.” she said with a smile that looked a little too sweet and practiced, that it made jameson sick.

the interviewer leaned forward, a cruel smirk on his face that made avery want to grimace. “oh?” he challenged, “so you’re saying the billion-dollar inheritance didn’t change your life overnight?”

xanders usual playful grin was gone as he muttered, “avery looks like she’s about to walk out.”

“she should.” jameson was now pacing in front of the TV, unable to stand still any longer. “if i’d been there—”

“but you’re not,” grayson said calmly, standing beside another couch that lyra was sitting on. “she’ll handle it.”

lyra had heard everyone in the room a few minutes earlier, and suggested her and grayson go see what was going on. 

jameson’s eyes focused laser sharp on the tv once again as he heard the interviewer mention his name, before turning back to look at grayson.

“she shouldn’t have to handle it, grayson.” his voice cracked with frustration.

her heart raced, but she managed a small laugh. “i think anyone’s life would change with something like that. my life has changed a great ordeal, but it’s more complicated than—”

“and what about your relationship with jameson hawthorne?” he interrupted, not caring for a single word she had to say. “was that part of the package deal?”

the live audience laughed, and avery just smiled politely, frustration flashing behind her eyes that only the people closest to her could spot.

grayson was going to say something to calm his brother down, but didn’t get the chance to. 

“oh, this guy is a fucking comedian, isn’t he?” jameson ran another frustrated hand through his hair, chuckling lowly as he exhaled. “i’m getting him fired— bankrupt for gods sake.” 

he knew how snobby-privileged-rich-kid he sounded even to his own ears, but he didn’t care. 

“yeah,” lyra chimed in, who rarely ever agreed with jameson.  “i’m with you on that one.”

jameson shook his head, letting out a blow of air that it almost sounded like a whistle, “goddamnit, i don’t care, i’m going. her team and the paparazzi can go to hell for all i care.” 

he turned off the tv, he couldn’t bear to see avery uncomfortable for another second.

nash stood leaning against the wall, sending a slight nod to jameson. “you need a ride?” he asked, alluding to the motorcycle jameson loves to use when he needs to blow off steam. 

with no complaints from nash, jameson knew that he was doing the right thing. 

he muttered something under his breath along the lines of: “too dangerous,” and shook his head. and with that, he made his way to the stairs. 

everyone shared confused glances — jameson hawthorne, saying something was too dangerous? something has seriously changed. 

“is it just me… or is jameson being weirdly responsible right now.” xander muttered as he looked at the turned off tv infront of him. 

grayson and lyra shared a look that communicated the message; ‘…he’s still not responsible.’ but didn’t say anything.

max nodded at xander in agreement. “it’s the avery effect.” she stated matter-of-factly. “i don’t know about you, but whenever i’m around her i feel like… woah, i just want to be a better person, you know?” 

xander thought about it for a moment with his hand on his chin, and then nodded ,like max had said something profound. 

he looked up at her, and then they both nodded in sync, sharing a high five. 

nash, who was still standing leaned against the wall, stifled a laugh, shaking his head in amusement before walking out of the living room. 

he was definitely going to be mentioning the “avery effect” to libby later.

— 

avery sighed as she finally got in the dressing room, leaning her head back on the door and shutting her eyes. 

she got to go home in half an hour now, finally. 

atleast she was done with that interview. 

she walked away from the door, slumping in her chair as she brought her hands to her face, looking into the large hollywood style mirror infront of her. 

she was hyper-aware of everything around her—the feeling of her clothes scratching against her skin, the way her makeup suddenly felt heavy on her face, the ache in her cheeks from smiling, and the slight tremor in her hands. 

avery re-enacted the smiles she gave throughout the interview, wondering if they looked too fake, if she needs to start tweaking them, and overthinking just about every small detail.

5 minutes had passed, and she was still staring into the mirror. 

surely this wasn’t healthy, but she stayed practicing the answers she gave, sighing in defeat when she remembered how people would take it as snappy and defensive.

god, she wouldn’t have wished that interview from hell on her worst enemy. 

her reflection started to look weird to herself, but she kept practicing the right way to smile, to not look fake.

suddenly, there was a knock on the door, and her attention was diverted from the mirror for the first time in 10 minutes. 

“yeah, come in!” she called out quietly, eyes fixated on the door, nervous to see who it was.

hair and makeup? someone from her team already there to scold her? or god forbid, the interviewer— her thoughts were all silenced when she saw pair of familiar green eyes.

“jameson,” she breathed out, “what are you doing here?” 

his hair was a tad messier than usual, and his eyes seemed panicked as he looked around the room, until they finally met hers. 

he shut the door behind him and locked it all in one swift movement and walked over to her, standing behind her chair she was sitting on. 

his hands found her shoulders, but she stood up and turned around, meeting him face to face.

“heiress,” he put his calmest voice on as his hands found their way to the sides of her face. “i was watching— we were watching the interview at home.” his eyes flickered between hers, “are you alright?”

she smiled a little, letting out an exhale. “yeah, why wouldn’t i be?” she shook her head in an attempt to portray she was confused. 

it was slightly difficult for her to act like she was perfectly fine, when she had spent the last 20 minutes doing nothing but overthink. 

he brought her out of her thoughts once again. “avery.”

“what?”

“i saw the look on your face— you may be a good bluffer, but not with your emotions. not with me, atleast.” 

unfortunately for avery, jameson could see what she was feeling when she tried her hardest to hide it, even from her own self. 

she sighed, trying to shrug it off. “jameson, it’s just one interview. they ask questions like that all the time—it’s part of the job.”

“i don’t care if it’s part of the job. you never asked for this.” his voice was hard-edged, his hands moving down her shoulders, then down to her hands. “you looked uncomfortable, avery. you shouldn’t have to be fine with that.”

“i was managing it,” she countered, tilting her head up to look at him, trying to ease the tension. “that’s what i’m supposed to do.”

her hands fiddled with his fingers with a mind of their own. it was a tell tale sign she was holding her feelings back. jameson knew it better than anyone.

“and that’s the problem.” he didn’t speak to her condescendingly, or in any way that was trying to belittle her. he was just worried. 

he simply cared, and it made avery’s heart soar. 

“they’re counting on you to just handle it every single time, like it doesn’t get to you.” his voice was low, “you shouldn’t act okay with it just because it’s easier. it’s not right.”

she wanted to prove that she was okay, that she wasn’t bothered, and that he didn’t have to worry about her, but she couldn’t, because then she’d be lying.

she let out a small sigh of defeat, “you’re right, jameson.” she shook her head, “i know… i just— i don’t want you to worry about me, or anyone to worry about me.”

“tough luck.” he replied, voice low but unwavering as his eyes searched hers. 

she opened her mouth to argue, but his hand gently brushed a stray piece of hair from her face, and the words seemed to fade.  

“its the worst thing in the world, seeing the hurt on your face. i hate it.” avery looked down, but he tilted her chin back up. “and,” he murmured, “i hate the people inferior who project their own problems onto you, because they feel like they can, even more.” 

avery couldn’t argue with the rest of what he said, but she needed to say something. 

“no one’s inferior to me.” she mumbled 

“please,” jameson said with a deep chuckle, “i could name quite a few.” he said. “for starters, that interviewer—“

avery cut jameson off with a light laugh, a sound that made jameson feel like the sun was shining down just for them two. 

his eyes flickered all around her face, his own smile growing as he committed the picture to memory. “he was the worst. am i wrong? tell me i’m wrong.” he teased, selfishly wanting more laughter out of avery because he loved it so much.

she shook her head vigorously, “no,” she laughed, “god, no. he was the worst. i hate that idiot.” 

jameson let out another one of his bigger chuckles, “keep going,” he joked, “there’s my heiress.” 

avery rolled her eyes jokingly, feeling the last of her worry fade away. “i wanted to punch him square in the face,” she said, and jameson rose his brows in amusement and nodded enthusiastically.

she continued, “but that doesn’t matter anymore, because you’re here now, and that’s more important.” 

he let out a breath, his shoulders loosing the last of their tension. “is that so?” he murmured, his hand slipping around her waist, pulling her a bit closer.

“yeah, it is.” and before he could protest or mention anything about her emotions any longer, she leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. 

he melted into her, arms wrapping around her fully, and tighter. she felt like she could stay in his arms for all eternity as she put her arms around his neck. 

the kiss was brief, reassuring, but enough to melt away the last traces of his worry.

when she pulled back, jameson was looking at her with softness in his eyes— one rarely seen by others, but always seen by her. 

his thumb brushed over her cheek, and his eyes travelled her face all over. he looked deep in thought, and avery could sense a question was stirring. 

“heiress?”

she hummed, “yes, jamie?”

“you know, i never mean to be,” he hesitated slightly, “overbearing, or controlling, i just…” he paused, pressing his lips together in a line as he racked his brain for the right words. 

“yeah, i know, jamie.” she nodded slightly with her hand brushing the sides of his face, understanding what he couldn’t verbalize.

his hand held her hand that was on his face, and moved it back down. 

both their hands were locked together now, and jameson rested his forehead on hers gently.

avery was so sure he would lean in for another kiss, perhaps one less tentative, now that she could see the tension had dissolved from his shoulders. 

she let herself relax, realizing that she stopped fidgeting with jameson’s hands a while ago. 

he brought her so much peace without even trying. she wondered if she ever did the same for him— and then jameson broke the silence. 

“i’m still getting him fired, by the way.”

avery laughed quietly, almost scoffing in amusement. she bit back her smile as she shook her head, taking a slight step back, hands still intertwined. “of course you are.”

“for you, heiress?” his cheshire grin slowly returned, reeling her back in close. he shrugged, “i’d do much worse.”

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@midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @charsoamerican @hxress23 @imaseabear 

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@hermesenthusiast @elysianwayy77 @that-daughter-of-hephaestus

[nothots-headempty]

Sunrise and Hangovers

Charles Xavier × reader

Summary: you're tipsy and in love. Charles is just... conflicted. Can you ever get in sync with the young professor that you can't get off your mind?

Word count: 3k+

Warnings: so much angst, fluffy, alcohol mentions, some kiss-kiss

Author's note: I love this man so much. Also tell me what you guys thing. I'm back to writing after so long, the self doubt is going crazy crazy <3 posted this after 3 days of over thinking it wow

Also this fic is First Class era based but but I just loved this gif so much I had to indulge myself T_T

When the dark door to his study lands smack against your face, you finally open your eyes clearly and take in where you're stood. Your tequilla-addled brain loved working over time, guiding your feet with absolutely no abandon to the front of Charles's sanctum.

There's a glass still in your hand and your eyes seem to attract it over to you, tongue taking a couple of tries before the straw is in your mouth and the pungent fluid flows down your throat. Liquid courage or not, you were about to knock.

Your fingers stretch out to the wood before you, the crease in your brow deepening when the door swings open without any action from your person. You're still looking at your fist, confused, suspicious of finding a new mutant ability to unlock doors without touching them. And then there's him, arms crossed across his chest, his gaze following you, evidently amused.

"Did I just do that?", you mumble, your confusion dissolving into absolute chaos when you see him properly. His hair is slightly tousled like he had just got out of bed, his sweater vest turned a little sideways, a little out of sorts. His face still wears that same grin, the same sparkle of his eyes. The same Charles you had come to love with every passing day.

"Create enough sub-concious noise to wake me up, you mean? Yes, that was definitely you." He pouts, playful and you can't help but take a step toward him. "Are you always calling my name when you're drunk or is this revenge for all the hours of training?" His hands slide into his pockets, a lazy yawn on his lips as he leans against the doorframe. You know his eyes haven't left you since he walked out, and instead of the usual shyness, right now you feel something warm and fuzzy inside you.

Maybe it's the haze everywhere around you, a muddle to your step, the coursing adrenaline through your veins and yet in the midst of it all, your affection for him constricts in your chest, tighter than ever.

His eyebrow raises, almost comically at your silence, the seriousness in his gaze juxtaposed to the ease of his posture.

"Sorry for waking you." You're not sorry. Not even a little. Not when this is the first time you've seen him like this. His guard down. His voice a low murmur, doused in sleep. You take another step towards him but this time he takes a step back. The door opens wider and you realise he's inviting you in.

To his study.

Your eyes snap back to his. It's one of those moments where you know even pinching yourself won't make you believe it's real. The shock shows on your face, you're aware and he tilts his head in response, a challenge to pose the question fighting it's way to your tongue. You don't. Instead, you step closer still.

His study feels like a distant reality anyway, forgotten, ignored, your body swaying towards the warmth emanating from him. It threatens to shatter you, that feeling of being so close. Of wanting to touch him. The material of his vest against your fingers, the collar of his shirt against your neck, his cheek against your cheek. His tongue in your mouth.

You know you shouldn't, you know it's stupid. You know he's your professor and he'll never feel the way you do. And he'd never look you in the eye again. And you'd never get to be on his arm at a party. Or by his side during one of his lectures.

But right now. In the low burn of his table lamp, your fingers can't help but reach forward, brush lightly against his jaw. His eyes follow everything, from the minute you move, right to the moment of electric contact, skin to skin. You feel him tense up. His gaze solidifies, sets on you.

You go on still, running a finger along his temple, caress his cheek and then, his eyes fall shut. A soft sigh gets caught somewhere in his throat but he shows no effort to make anything of it. His face leans into your hand, brushing back against your thumb as you glide it along the apple of his cheek.

He whispers your name, the syllables warped by the interruption of your fingers on his lips, tracing their outline, memorizing it. You might forget the night, the way you landed up here, everything you said. But the feel of his lips, his nose, his jaw, all of him. It was etched too deep to be lost in your memories.

"Charles.", you mumble. You don't know why you say it. His name feels like a poem on your tongue, the words you intend to say all swallowed up in that single utterance. Your slow approach now finds you inches from his face, your chests nearly touching, your breaths ragged, loud.

Up close, you can see his pupils are dilated, blown wide, his mouth hanging open halfway since your thumb ran along its edge. There's a hesitation in his gaze, though, and before it can translate to speech, you push yourself up on your toes, lips meeting his with a soft moan you can't hold back.

His response is almost immediate, his arms wrapping around your waist, head leaning in farther so he can give you what you want. You gasp into his mouth, his tongue swiping at yours, your fingers instinctively finding home in the soft, lush locks of hair at his neck.

He's the first to pull away, a little too soon for your liking, disengaging your mouths so he can rest his forehead against yours. The smile on his lips pushes against your cheek and you can't help but smile back.

The alcohol did well at holding back the usual questions. The "what now?", the "does he really like me?" All the bullshit that you'd let yourself think about tomorrow morning.

For now you can feel his fingers pressed into your back, the warmth of his breath brushing your skin, the gentle caress of his nose against yours as he moves back to look at you. Right now, this is all you needed.

"What was that for?" He sounds stern. Much like the professor you were used to being around. But his hands are still clasped behind you and his smile is radiant.

"That was for all the weeks I've thought about doing this before. And then not done it anyway.", you smile. "And this is because I want to do it again." You lean back in to quench the need to have his lips on yours again. But this time he leans away. The disappointment, the dread are instant, spurting up in the back of your mind.

But his fingers reach up to brush your frown from your face. He takes a step away, a hand offered to you which you confusedly take in yours.

"You just sound like you're really, really drunk, love." He shakes his head, laughing to himself as he leads you out of the study to the room next door. The chill in the air is grounding, and you wonder if it's just his warmth you already miss.

"And drunk is not the best mood to be doing any of this in.", he continues, gesturing vaguely to the air between you and him. Your heart is sinking still, inspite of his words and so you wordlessly follow him to the bed before you, seating yourself on the edge.

He kneels between your legs, easing your heels slowly off your feet. You feel the gentle brush of his palm as he runs his hand along your calf, a rush of goosebumps blooming on your skin. He's still only millimeters away from you, close enough to touch lips and yet so much more distant than he was just minutes ago.

"Don't want you feeling stupid after sunrise.", he smirks. His eyes find yours again, and there's a little underlying drift of restraint, of light pessimism that you catch for the first time.

"I'm not sure the sunrise would change anything." Your whisper is almost too low to be audible. And yet you know he's heard it. He sighs heavily, sitting back on his heels.

"I'm sure the hangover would."

His hand finds a stray lock of hair on your face, pushing it behind your ear and then staying right there with it. His forehead leans against yours again, his brows scrunched together like he's fighting something inside himself.

He pushes infinitesimally closer, his nose brushes your cheek and your breath hitches. Your fingers dig into the mattress, your nerves all charged up as you remind yourself this might just be a dream. Might be one of those wisps of the night where he's yours and you're his and there's not an inch of space between you two.

His fingers slide over the back of your neck, tugging at the hair a little, making you moan softly in the back of your throat. "Okay, just this once.", he mumbles, and before his words can click, his lips are on yours. Warm, insistent, almost desperate, his mouth moves languidly against yours in a way that has you melting in his arms. He runs his tongue along your lip, raising himself off his heels so he can press your torsos together, your chests rising and falling in sync.

The heat of his body, the smell of soap and salt on his skin, the light taste of tea on his tongue, everything about him swallows you whole and soon you're drowning, drowning into the vortex that is this man.

Your hands snap into action moments later, pulling him closer by the collar of his shirt, your mouth opening under his to let his tongue in. He moans when you pull the hair at his neck, a little harder than you intended, and then he's shifting away again, like he's shot back to reality.

He blinks and then locks his gaze to yours, watching. You stay right there for a long, unending moment, your lip caught in your teeth, his eyes flitting across your face as he catches his breath. And the moment is shattered, fallen in pieces around you.

He leans back on his feet, gently pulling his hands out of yours, the whiplash of this sudden change leaving you stranded. Lost.

His brow creases again, only to splay out into a simple smile in seconds but it doesn't reach his eyes this time. He's reserved now. On guard.

With a short clearing of his throat, he picks your heels off the floor next to him, transferring them to the foot of the bed. "Get some sleep, love.", he says, his words more advisory than affectionate.

You look at the bed, it's empty face staring back at you as cold as the chill settling within your chest. "There's place for two here.", you offer lamely.

But he's already at the door, one hand on the knob. He turns back one last time, something pained in his eyes. "No, I'll have to get back to that thesis.", he smiles. "But you get some rest and we'll talk tomorrow."

He closes his eyes, exhaling forcefully before excusing himself and with a click the door shuts, leaving you alone.

And your heart sinks again.

________

The morning light casts shadows on the walls, the dance of leaves and curtain fabric mesmerizing against the cream of the wallpaper. The first thing you notice when you open your eyes though, is the pressing ache in your temple.

You squeeze your eyes shut and the drinking, the victory party, Raven pouring shots down your throat - it all comes back like a zap.

You groan, trying very, very slowly to shift upright in bed but that course of movement is impeded by an iron clasp around your waist.

Your attention falls to the man asleep next to you, his expression serene as soft breaths whistle out of his lips.

And then you freeze. The rest of the night comes crashing back, the reality of it all settling in like an uncomfortable feeling in your gut. You turn back to look at him, the morning sunshine lighting his face up, ethereal. Your chest hurts a little more, already.

You hold his hand in yours, trying your best to move it off from your waist but his grasp only becomes tighter. He stirs against you, pulling you closer, a soft "hmm" hummed in disapproval. You groan in frustration, the feeling of him too welcoming but the coldness of last night left like a bad taste in your mouth. You press your fingers into your eyes but it does nothing to the growing throb in your forehead.

"Headache?", he mumbles groggily, shooting up onto his elbow to fumble around in his bedside drawer. Before you can even form the words, the pills are out in his hand, a bottle of water in the other.

You take them quietly, downing the meds with silent relief while he leans back into bed. You lie down again not sure what to do with the unresolved moments you've shared a few hours ago. But you decide to let him take the lead. You suppress the headache. And wait.

"Before you ask, I only came here to take a nap.", his hands shoot up in defense as if the sheer idea of waking up next to him must sound like a night mare. You huff, waiting for him to address the obvious.

"We did kiss.", he mumbles. You turn on your side, wanting to take in the slight blush on his cheeks, the stutter in his words as if even thinking about it took him back to your lips on his. "And I'm sorry I didn't stop it. I know you were drunk out of your mind and I should have been the one t-"

"Charles.", you interrupt, your brow furrowed in confusion. But he goes on anyway, the words tumbling out of his mouth like he can't stop them now

"No, because I'm your professor and I shouldn't ever take advantage of you like that-"

"Charles-"

"I hope you can forgive me. It was stupid, stupid, really stupid on my part but maybe I just thought I could kiss you for just one second and I-"

"Charles!", you finally get his attention, his eyes wide, his mouth still parted as if the syllables had evaporated on his tongue the moment he heard your tone.

"Breathe." You're unable to keep the smile from your lips, your fingers threading through the small locks hanging on his neck as he turns to face you as well.

"Yes. Uh, yes. I'm breathing.", he exhales, something resembling a laugh. "But I do mean it. I'm sorry."

"I'm not.", you murmur, your cheeks painted with a crimson similar to his. You wheedle yourself a little closer, breathing the same air in the ever closing gap between your bodies. The doubt, the apprehension is all evident in the look he gives you, eyes searching for the humor in your words. Searching for that sliver of honesty he hoped to find.

"You're... You're not?" His fingers brush the inside of your wrist, holding your hand to his face.

"I like you, Charles. And not in a high-school-crush-on-the-hot-professor way." Your eyes find his again and you realise he's leaning towards you as well. His eyes are on your lips, your heart thudding as his tongue darts out to swipe against his lower lip.

He drags his gaze slowly back to yours and you see that darkness in his eyes, the focus, the raw intensity. Your breath hitches but you force yourself to go on.

"I like you because you're smart. And you're kind. You're selfless. And you make us all feel special without even trying. You made me want to be a part of this cruel, idiotic world, Charles."

You bite your lip in the silence that follows, the urgency of the confession dissipating, not sure how to stop the dying embarrassment about to take your over.

He let's his thumb brush over your chin then, pulling you closer. There's that grin of his again, the cheeky school boy grin that makes you want to kiss his mouth. "So I am the hot professor, huh?", he smirks half way through his words, his breath hot against your lips.

You roll your eyes, hands curling into his shirt collar to pull him flush against you. "Kiss me and we'll find out if that's true."

His lips are on yours before you can finish your line, his smile wide against your own. He's confident now, probing, his tongue sliding against yours like he's known the way these moments would play out, known the way he wanted to make you feel. Known what he wanted if you ever let him in.

His hands slide down your body, pressing you closer with the small of your back, the laughs and grins melting down into soft moans. You run a hand through his hair, the other twisting itself tighter into his vest.

He's breathless when he pulls away, his chest heaving against your own, the sunlight bathing him, making him look annoyingly prettier than always. He runs a finger down your forehead, tapping your nose lightly as he leans in for another peck.

"That hot enough for you, my love?", he murmurs against your lips, your heart still thudding at the endearment, his tongue darting out to run against your mouth.

"No, I think I'm gonna need another try. Just to make sure, you know." You brush your nose against his. He smiles again and it warms your heart to know you were even slightly the cause of his happiness.

"I did always appreciate you attention to detail, love."

[goldenempyrean]

hey :) just wondering - would you ever consider writing for agatha harkness/rio vidal?

Under Her Spell

〚 Notes - So I originally wasn't going to write for them, since I tried to write Agatha in the past and couldn't quite nail her character down but I was super sleepy last night and wanted to give this a go! So let me know what you think! 〛

〚 Pairing - Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal 〛

〚 Summary - Agatha wakes up ill but she's got Rio to look after her. 〛

〚 Wordcount - 1280 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

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Agatha Harkness was a woman of power. 

A woman of strength and most certainly a woman of unwavering resolve. She’d faced trails, hunts and grief yet little had ever slowed her down. Yet here she was, slumped over her desk, surrounded by a messy pile of books and various other magical nicknacks. 

She honestly wasn’t quite sure what she was meant to be doing. It had all seemed clear a few hours away when she felt decisively less shitty. You see, the witch had woken up with a groggy mumble and an empty bed to match. That wasn’t all too unusual, after all, her girlfriend’s “occupation” didn’t exactly give her the flexibility to lie in whenever she wanted 

Agatha was used to it by now, what she wasn’t used to however was waking to a throbbing headache and horribly sore throat. She swallowed, the action provoking a sharp wince in response. Before she had even sat up properly, the brunette had been sent forward with an unpleasant fit, the dry rasping coughs only further irritating her enflamed throat. 

She groaned as she forced herself up from the bed, each movement feeling like it took twice the  amount of effort. When she finally managed to stand, she had to reach back and grip the bedpost, her vision swimming for a moment and the room span out of focus. 

After taking a minute to catch her breath she made her way over to her desk, weaving between the clutter that had accumulated on her floor—enchanted objects, potion bottles, and the odd errant crystal she’d forgotten to clean up 

The desk was already covered in books and ancient tomes, their pages splayed open from last night’s research. Agatha had been on the verge of discovering something big—or at least, it had felt that way. But now, squinting at the words on the page, she found herself struggling to even focus. 

That’s how it went for several hours, forcing herself to read lines of spells and chants, only half understanding their meaning. Even if she had, she was way too congested to pronounce anything correctly anyway. Why she had even bothered to work on this in the first place had been long forgotten but the thought of giving up without making any progress was embarrassing for a witch of her calibre.  

Rubbing at her nose, Agatha sniffled thickly but wasn’t doing much in the way of giving her relief.  Reaching over to her side, the pulled open the drawer of her desk pulling out a white stitched cloth. 

Another sniffle escaped, this one more insistent, making her nose twitch. She could feel the prickling sensation of a sneeze building, and for a moment she tried to will it away, refusing to let the cold control even a small part of her. But the tickle won out, and with a begrudging gasp, she sneezed into her handkerchief, a soft, “Hh’tschh!” escaping before she could stifle it. 

A distant knock at the door caught her attention. She coughed and pulled her navy cardigan closer around herself, wishing whoever it was to leave as quick as they came. They knocked again, a little louder this time. Agatha groaned, rolling her eyes as she glared towards the door. 

She had just been about to get up when the wooden hinges creaked subtly as the door opened, “Agatha?” The witch instantly relaxed from the barely-held defensive position she’d gotten it when she recognised the voice calling out to her. 

“In here my love.” The witch cringed at the sound of her own rasping voice, clearing her throat with an irritated noise as she looked up to see Rio leaning against the doorframe to her room. 

“You look like death.” 

“Hilarious.” 

Rio shrugged with an amused smirk, “I like to think so.” She came towards Agatha, gently reaching out to touch her forehead, wincing at how warm her girlfriend felt beneath her touch, “I told you not to go out in the rain yesterday without so much as a coat to keep you warm. Now look at you.” 

Agatha let out a grumble, eyes narrowing slightly as she looked up at Rio with a mixture of stubborn defiance and begrudging affection. “I can look after myself.” She said, her words quickly followed by a damp sniffle. The action didn’t provide her any relief, in fact it only seemed to irritate her sinuses further. Her pink nose twitched for a second before the witch scrambled to duck into the fabric she’d been clutching, “Hii’tshhuu!” 

Rio made a noise somewhat between sympathy and adoration as she pressed a soft kiss to the top of Agatha’s forehead, her nose winkling a little as she realised how damp her hair was, “Were you outside again?” 

“No.” Agatha grumbled, turning away to blow her nose quietly before continuing, “I think I broke a fever earlier. Just had to sweat it out I suppose.” She filled in the obvious and Rio simply hummed but her expression said she wanted to say something more. 

The brunette dragged a chair to come and sit beside her girlfriend, watching silently as Agatha tried and failed to get on with some work, “Do you want me to draw you a bath love? I’m sorry but you’re fooling nobody with the way you’re shivering.” Rio took off her coat and laid the warm fabric over the witches shoulders. Agatha unconsciously sank into the garment, the faint smell of her girlfriend lingering on the item. 

Agatha sniffled again, rubbing at her nose once more before nodding as she turned to look at her, “I’d like that.” She said simply, sighing before pushing her chair away from the desk, standing up to simply sit back down again a few seconds later, only this time she was sitting in Rio’s lap, tucking her head against the crook of her neck, “Thank you.” 

Rio continued the hold her for a while, her hand finding its way beneath Agatha’s shirt as she drew shapes down her back, her cool touch providing a welcomed relief from the fever that had her freezing cold one minute and burning up the next, “You may have to let me get up if you want that bath anytime soon.” Rio murmured, earning a tired mumble in return. She hadn’t noticed how her girlfriend had practically fallen asleep against her, “You’re exhausted love.” Her voice was quiet. 

Without another word, her girlfriend slipped her arm around Agatha’s shoulders, guiding her up, “Back to bed with you, hm?” Though her words were sweet, Rio’s tone left little room for arguments as she made easy work of getting the notoriously stubborn Agatha Harkness changed into fresh nightwear and then back under the covers of their bed, “Good girl.” She pressed another kiss to her forehead. 

“I’m going to get you mix you something for your throat then run you a bath, alright? I don’t expect to come back and find you wondering about like a lost puppy.” Rio narrowed her eyebrows playfully but Agatha simply rolled onto her side and tugged the blanket a little closer over herself as she closed her eyes. 

The Green witch sighed softly, this time as she leant down she allowed herself to plant a kiss on her girlfriend’s pink tinged cheeks, earning a sleepy mumble of gratitude from her partner, “Just rest, okay? I’ll wake you up in a little bit.” 

So maybe Agatha was stubborn. Maybe she was a woman of power. The woman of power. But right now she was a sleepy, feverish, sniffly mess. But maybe that was okay.  Now she had Rio to take care of her and that was all that mattered. 

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[gothamite-rambler]

"Why does he keep aiming for that spot?!"

Batman lay face down on the ground, groaning in pain. His groin throbbed painfully from two brutal kicks delivered by Lex Luthor's nearly steel-toed boot, nestled within that ridiculous suit of his.

Superman stood nearby, sympathetic to his friend's plight but secretly grateful it wasn’t him on the receiving end.

Superman (comfortingly): So, uh, you doing okay, B?

Batman: He kicked me in the groin twice with that damn suit. You think I'm doing okay?

Superman: It can't be that bad, can it?

Batman growled in response, still writhing in discomfort. He was familiar with the idea of turning pain into strength, but this was an entirely different matter. Lex relished seeing the caped crusader in such distress.

Lex: Ah ha! Look at me, I've got the upper hand on Batman!

Superman (pointing at Batman): All you’re doing is kicking him in the crotch! That’s a low blow, literally!

Batman (deadpan): I hate you right now for saying that. And I hate Lex for putting me through this.

Lex: Well, that's what he gets for thwarting my plan to eliminate you! He’s lucky all I did was kick him where it hurts. With a limp dick like that, I can’t imagine he gets much action anyway.

Batman groaned and struggled to his feet. Fueled by frustration, he lunged at Lex, but the villain seized his fist and swiftly delivered a third kick to his groin. Batman whimpered and fell forward.

Batman (with a heavy sigh, fighting back tears): Oh God, that hurt even more than the first two!

Superman (glaring at Lex): Dude seriously, knock it off! That's the lowest type of fighting. I rephrased it for you, best buddy.

Batman (weakly, eyebrow twitching): Don't call me that while we're in the middle of a fight!

Lex: You’re losing this fight, Batman. You’re so stubborn—just stay down, you weak beta! Unlike me and my super suit!

Batman rose to his feet once more, refusing to give up, which made Superman groan in embarrassment as he shielded his eyes. Lex retaliated with a punch that sent Batman sprawling backward. Undeterred, Batman charged again, only to be knocked down once more. Superman quickly sidestepped, narrowly avoiding a collision with Batman as he crashed to the ground for the second time.

Superman (frustrated): Batman, can we team up to fight him already?!

Batman (on his knees, gasping): Just... give me a minute.

Lex (annoyed): Ugh, he is persistent.

Superman: You have no idea. He’s actually a really decent guy once you take the time to know him.

Lex: Doubtful.

Superman: He’s usually calmer than this, but you did insult some of his family. That’s a sensitive topic for him.

Lex (uninterested): Don’t care, Superpussy.

Superman rolled his eyes. Batman, clearly in agony, mustered the strength to spring to his feet one last time, but it quickly became apparent that Lex was enjoying this brutal exchange as he kicked him in the crotch for a fourth time. Batman was regretting not adding a codpiece to his suit.

Superman: Can we call for a time-out before he makes himself infertile?

Lex laughed and, with a triumphant nod, walked away. Superman approached Batman, who lay on the ground, desperately trying to suppress his screams.

Of course! Here’s the revised version with "dick" included:

Batman (pained confusion): He keeps kicking me in the dick—why? Why does he keep kicking me in the dick?!

Superman: He just doesn’t like you. Welcome to the Lex Club. But I think I have a good idea.

Batman (with fierce indignation): If you suggest you hit him really hard, I swear I’ll kick you in the dick with kryptonite shoes!

Superman: Well, we could... hit him really hard—

Batman growled in pain, doubled over.

Superman (nervous smile): Together?

Batman (with reluctant resignation): Whatever.

--- Three hours later ---

Wonder Woman laughed hysterically as Batman, now out of his suit, iced his groin while lying flat on the floor. Unfortunately, the ice didn’t take away the pain.

Batman (groggy): This is not funny!

Wonder Woman: I’m sorry—no, I’m not! I can’t believe he kept targeting your crotch. Why didn’t you stop charging at him after the second kick?

Batman (weakly): Because the Batman doesn’t go down easily!

Wonder Woman: Or because you’re the type of man to engage in a dick-measuring contest with a villain. And he wasn’t even one of yours!

Her laughter only intensified as Batman scowled, frustrated that she had a point. He certainly didn’t want Lex to get away with his jibes about Nightwing.

Wonder Woman: What happened to your pre-planning?

Superman: He was pretty enraged, to be honest. But at least we finally took him down together. I told you hitting him really hard would work!

Wonder Woman (still chuckling): I love that you risked your normal bathroom habits and the chance of having kids just because you didn’t want to let Superman help you.

Batman remained silent, choosing to lay there, engulfed in both pain and embarrassment.

[urlocalmultigroupfan]

without you (pt. 6)

pairing: lee felix x female reader

summary: you have been best friends with the 00 liners+chan for a while now. now everyone is in college and when you begin to develop feelings, its getting hard to choose...l

tags/warnings: college skz, liking multiple people at a time, fluff, angst, reader struggles with anxiety and depression, cussing, partially proofread

a/n: yesterday i had been listening to no doubt by enhypen for hours while working... but GIANT CAME OUTTTT OH MY LORDD... *saves to yt music library* anyways this one is going to be on hyunjin 😚 love yall

The air outside had cooled by the time you made your way to the campus courtyard, but the warm golden light of the late afternoon still clung to the edges of the horizon. You were meeting Hyunjin today—another one of your closest friends—but unlike Chan, your time together had become a rarity. The last few weeks had been a whirlwind, and you'd found yourself bouncing between study sessions, gym dates, and nights out with a growing group of new friends. Somewhere along the way, you'd unintentionally let Hyunjin slip through the cracks.

Hyunjin was already sitting at one of the tables, his phone in hand as he scrolled through something on the screen. When you approached, his gaze flickered up to meet yours, and a smile tugged at his lips, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Hey," you greeted, settling across from him. "Sorry I'm late. Was just finishing up a study session."

He nodded absently, not looking up from his phone. "It’s fine."

You felt the weight of his response, the slight tension in his posture, and it made the smile on your own face falter. Something was off. It wasn’t like Hyunjin to be so distant—not to you. He’d always been playful, easygoing, and full of life when the two of you hung out. But today, there was something muted about him.

"Everything okay?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah," he said, though his eyes didn't meet yours. His voice was flat. "Just tired, I guess."

You weren’t buying it. You'd known Hyunjin long enough to know when something was bothering him, and it was obvious there was more on his mind than fatigue.

"Hyunjin, come on. You can tell me what's up." You leaned forward slightly, giving him your best serious look.

He hesitated for a beat, then let out a deep sigh. He finally put his phone down, folding his arms on the table and leaning back in his chair, eyes on the sky. "I just… I don’t get it," he muttered.

You blinked, taken aback by his tone. "What do you mean?"

"It’s like…" He ran a hand through his hair, clearly struggling to find the right words. "You’re always with everyone else now. Chan, Felix, your new friends, all the time. You barely have time for me anymore."

Your heart skipped at the bluntness of his words. You’d been so caught up in the hustle of school and new connections that you hadn't noticed how much distance had started to grow between you and Hyunjin. Guilt immediately crept up on you, but you tried to keep your voice calm.

"I’m sorry, Hyunjin. I didn’t mean for it to happen like that. It’s just—everything’s been so busy lately. I didn’t realize I was pulling away." You hesitated, feeling a lump form in your throat. "You know you mean a lot to me, right? You’re my friend, too."

He finally turned to look at you, his dark eyes softer now, though there was still a faint edge of hurt beneath them. "I know," he said, his voice quiet. "But it doesn’t feel like it sometimes. I don’t know. I guess I just… miss hanging out with you like we used to."

You let his words settle between you, a heavy silence hanging in the air. You missed it too—the easy way you could talk with him, the days you spent together doing nothing but laughing and playing around. You wanted that again. You wanted to be there for him, to make sure he knew that even though things had gotten complicated, your friendship hadn't changed.

"I get it," you said softly. "And I’m sorry for letting things slip. You’re right, I’ve been kind of all over the place. But I’m here now. And I really want to spend more time with you. How about we go grab some dinner after this? Just the two of us. No distractions."

Hyunjin’s expression softened, though he still seemed a little guarded. He gave a small nod, his lips curving upward slightly, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes the way it normally did.

"I’d like that," he said quietly, his gaze flickering down at his hands. "I just don’t want to feel like I’m… second place, you know?"

You felt a pang in your chest at that. You’d never meant to make him feel like he wasn’t important. "You’re never second place, Hyunjin. You’re one of my closest friends. I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel like that." You reached across the table and placed a hand over his, offering him a reassuring squeeze. "I’m really glad you said something. I don’t want to lose touch with you."

His gaze met yours again, and this time, his smile was a little more genuine. "Thanks. I just needed to know that you still care."

"Of course I care," you said with a light chuckle, though your voice was filled with sincerity. "You’re stuck with me, okay?"

He laughed softly, the tension between you easing just a little. "Yeah, yeah. But you’d better make sure you keep your word." He leaned back in his chair, looking a bit more relaxed now. "And just so you know, I’m expecting you to beat me at Mario Kart tonight. You’re not getting off that easy."

You smiled, feeling the weight of the conversation lift. "I’ll take that challenge. But if I win, you’re buying me dessert."

"Deal," Hyunjin said, his eyes brightening. "And if I win, you’re giving me an hour of uninterrupted karaoke."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Alright, fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you."

The rest of your time together was spent in easy conversation, the air between you lighter than it had been when you first sat down. You promised to make more time for each other, to reconnect and rebuild the bond you both shared. As you walked away, heading to the arcade for your Mario Kart and karaoke session, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief.

Hyunjin’s jealousy wasn’t born from a place of malice, but of longing. He had simply missed his friend—and now that you were both aware of the distance that had crept between you, you were determined to close that gap.

And, as the night stretched on, with the sound of laughter and playful arguments filling the air, you couldn’t help but feel grateful that your friendships, though sometimes strained, were strong enough to withstand anything.

please don't reblog without permission!

[leupagus]

I've seen a number of posts claiming that Rebecca choosing to stay on Boat Guy's houseboat was "incredibly stupid" or "wildly unsafe" or other such descriptors. Everyone's perspectives are valid; I certainly understand that individual people would not want to stay there in that situation, and don't get why Rebecca did.

That being said, I really disagree with the posts that think she should have left or that she was in danger. Even putting aside that this is a television show and not real life, Rebecca, had she been a real person, did not have a "death wish" merely by remaining on board and spending time with Boat Guy.

Boat Guy was clearly interested in Rebecca, even before she fell into the canal — after all, he tries to warn her about being in the bike lane first by whistling at her and then saying she's a beautiful woman. He's smitten right from the jump! And during the scenes they have together, we see him make a number of passes at her. This is a guy who saw Rebecca and thought "ooh yes please."

But that does not make him unsafe, nor does it make any of his actions "creepy," "gross," or "red flags." What it makes him is a middle-aged man speaking as an equal to a middle-aged woman, who is similarly showing sexual interest in him. And who doesn't feel the need to pretend he doesn't find her gorgeous and compelling and sexy, which again, is not a bad thing!

I suspect a lot of the folks framing this guy as predatory just... don't have a lot of personal experience of being a 40-something woman flirting with a 40-something man. And I can say, from personal experience, that it's really fucking nice to see that dynamic between them.

Because I would've stayed on that boat, you'd better believe.

[justashadetalkative]

Status

Alright yeah the crash has hit. I've been thoroughly puddled this weekend.

Bright side is that it means I'm finally putting my foot down with myself and proactively doing some stuff that should help my mood (and abysmal sleep schedule) once I've been doing them for a bit, but in the mean time, I expect to be MIA for at least the next few days; maybe a week.

Sorry to folk I've just been starting stuff with! I promise I'll be back. o7

[slavhew]

im doing a drawtober of characters i think of through the day and will post in batches. day 3 solo because its already been derailed and todays blorbo is immunochemistry.

[nemmet]

question: how did you discover/get into scooby doo?

this is something i'm always so interested to hear, being that there are few people who don't have at least some small tie to the franchise. whether you would consider it one of your biggest current interests or it's just something nostalgic from your childhood, i'd love to know how you found scooby and what it means to you!

[crystallineconflict]

sucrose guardian grinnaux... aka modern au (by temporoyales !)

[drivemysoul]

can i have one thing go right for me this year. just. please. without anything ruining it. please. just one thing.

[starlooove]

Do ppl genuinely think jinx blew up the council for the liberation of zaun

[loumauve]

I snapped today at work, and by snapped I mean I politely commented on a help desk ticket by summing up an mess of an (type of) issue that's come up for at least the fourth time in the 2+ months I've been managing user accounts, and asked the person responsible to fix it (himself for once) because last time I fixed his mess-up it took me two whole days to work out the details with at least four other colleagues from different departments and I really don't want to do it again. there's other shit that needs doing, I've been working 10+ hour days for most of this week already, so I need to cut down not add on more.

(good thing tho - at least we managed to fix the issue where the dataset of a newer employee got mixed up with another one of the same name and therefore wasn't able to apply for any of the access/accounts she needed. technically not entirely my area but it does impact us not being allowed to create an account for her so I figured I might as well track that issue down. took three days and at least three other people, but hey - it should all work out now. yay for that)