#spewing my late night tumblr thoughts………………..

[robyntherav3n]

why does no one draw human paracelsus with dreads I WILL NOT STAND FOR THIS

[slut4jeon]

Everybody knows I’m a good girl, officer (jjk)

Pairing: Officer!Jk x fem reader

Sypnosis: Tiredly calling it a night after attending your workplaces celebration New Year's Eve party. You may have or not ran through a stop sign foolishly thinking no one would have been around to witness it…oh how wrong you were

Warnings: mature (18+), smut, degradation, unprotected sex, Voyeurism, don't read this if this does not interest you!! You have been warned!

Note: I had this prepared early Jan but tumblr didn’t save my writing :(( so I gave up on it lmao. I also really wanted to write smth w tsx jungkook. The police trend w the Lana song gave me inspo for this although the actual trend isn’t in the fic.

-

You were calling it a night, exiting the noisy building that is your workplace. There was a currently a party in the building where your coworkers were celebrating the New Year's.

You were tired. The loud music and chatters annoying you. You chose a safer route tonight, sticking to sparkling cider since you were driving yourselves home tonight.

The cold air hitting your bare skin leaving goosebumps over your entire figure as youstep out into the windy area heading towardsyour parked car.

That's the consequence of wanting to look good and presentable for a celebration, you of course always look stunning. It doesn't hurt to get ready. You were currently sporting a black ysl mini along with a deep v neckline and a pair of matching black pumps. The shoes, also annoying by how sore they left your feet.

Black heels clicking onto the floor as you begin entering your car as you drove into the pitch black night. Admiring the way the twinkling city lights look, along with the lit up buildings and lampposts. You got a little too carried away when you were oblivious to the stop sign you foolishly didn't stop and passed by.

Regret lingered in your chest as you panicked over your foolish action. Perhaps you'd be fine as it is the late night and no cars were present, oh how wrong you were.

The sound of a police siren began ringing as the bright red and blue lights gaining up on the tail of your car. You pulled onto the side of the road swiftly and put your car in park. Your trembly hands gripping both hands onto the steering wheels most definitely leaving your palms and knuckles white. That's when you heard 3 knocks on your left side window.

"Shit" you muttered. Feeling a rise of mixed movement in your lower belly as you begin lowering your window. There you met the gaze of a handsome officer.

"Driving late on New Years Day? When everybody's drinking and celebrating tonight. License and registration." He spewed with a hint of sarcasm.

"Yes, of course." Your hand quickly traveled to your glove compartment pulling out the documents. Then, pulled your license from your clutch.

As he inspected you couldn't help but gaze at him. His raven black sleek parted hair showing off a bit of forehead. His black button up dress shirt that was tucked in the matching black jeans, and rolled up from the sleeves stopping before the elbows to show off his meaty arms that were covered in artworks of tattoos.

The stern look he holds as looking at your documents. The burrowed brow and line wrinkles in between the brows. He was attractive, godly attractive.

"Step out the vehicle for me" he said. You did as told

You couldn't help but gaze at him. He was an attractive specimen. But soon you were ripped out of your thoughts.

"Walk along that yellow line"

"Officer I'm not drunk or anything of the sor-" you were interrupted

"You were given instructions. I expect you to follow them." he bluntly said

Obeying his words you stepped foot onto the yellow line. The cold air doing you no justice as you were trembling from it.

What you weren't aware of was how he stared at your ass that was threatening to spill out of the little piece of flimsy material you call a dress.

Turning around, his gaze caught you off guard at how he stared at you as a helpless little fawn about to be hunt down by a hungry wolf.

"I'm gonna pat you down. Step right by the car for me, palms flat onto the vehicle", he demanded.

Swiftly obeying, you got into position. Beginning his pat down inspection from head to toe. His muscular hands roamed over your body. You wondered whether your goosebumps was from the cold wind or his slithering fingers tracing over your open skin.

As he got lower and lower, padding the waist and soon hips he made sure to grope onto your flesh just in case of any dangerous possessions.

You were a whimpering mess, biting into your bottom lip to suppress any noise coming out of your mouth. The attractive officer had an effect on you. Especially when passing your thighs and ankles, rising back to the top his movement slowed as he reached back to your thighs.

You let out suppressed mewls as his fingers inched towards your inner thighs. Your legs were gonna give up at any threatening moment. You questioned whether he caught onto your reaction to his touch.

His fingers were dangerous close to your soaking cunt. You were took aback at his touch you could not longer suppress the noises that urged to come pass your lips. Your heat was aching for his touch.

He took notice to your glistening folds in with your juices threatening to spill out of your wine red lace panties. The officer could no longer resist the temptation of the sweet treat in front of him.

Riding your dress a bit up his face inched closer to your cunt, nose and all. Hooking his fingers onto your panties and pushing them aside, he ate you out from behind. Your knees about to give in as he ate your pussy like a starved man. His tongue lapped over your clit playing with the cute bud left you a whiny mess.

"Please” you voiced out quietly

How cute, the officer thought. His fingers lathered your juices, leaving them coated and dripping. The sudden intrusion of his long fingers intruding into the tight ring of your hole.

With your mouth agape, your mind was left into a frenzy at how good the officer worked his fingers into your soaking cunt.

"Clenching onto my fingers, aren't you a little eager thing?", he said

You looked back to him to see his pretty pouty lips all swollen and tinted from eating you out. Your juices trailing down his chin and neck. He looked too edible.

He sensed you were near as your gummy walls clamped onto his fingers. Quickly pulling them out and robbing you of your release you mewled at the empty feeling.

You were a minx he thought. His cock hardening and imprinting his jeans. The feeling got only tighter as his fingers savored the taste of your pussy juices that coated his index and middle.

He needed more. Turning your body swiftly around the officer face to face with you connected both mouths together. His hands sneaked onto your hips and lower onto your ass making sure to grip the plumpy flesh.

You couldn't help out moan into his mouth as you both were in ecstasy. You needed more.

"Need to fuck that pussy, will you let me pretty thing?", who were you to deny him?

Eagerly nodding your head in confirmation. "Words, pretty", the officer said

"Please fuck me", you said in a desperate manner. That's all it took for him to roughly turn you around and begin grinding his hard length into your ass.

Desperate for friction you pushed out for him, like a bitch in heat. Your dress being a nuisance for him he unzipped you, freeing your bare body to be in display of his hungry eyes.

You wore no bra as the dress had padding, all you were left in was your wine lace panties. His lips traveled from your neck to breasts. Scattering marks as if he were leaving burns.

The way his teeth clamped onto your bud, sucking and pulling. Something about the way you were fully bare at his mercy as he remained fully clothed while he played with your pussy had you rubbing your thighs together.

"Officer please, fuck me!", you could no longer take it.

He smirked at your eagerness. Finding it humorously cute at how much of a cock hungry whore you are.

Your ears perked at the noise of him fumbling with his belt. His cock sprung free fully erect as he began aligning it to your entrance.

"O-oh! Fuck.., officer!", you blabbered incoherently as the intrusion of his length stretched your hole.

"-shit, such a tight little pussy", his pace greedily fastened.

You were a mess. All that was heard in the quiet night was the way he rammed his cock into your pussy. Balls slapping against your clit.

"Such a whore you are, aren't you? You like getting rammed from behind by an officer out in the outdoors?" he said as he continued abusing your cunt.

"Who would've thought a pretty thing like you was such a dirty slut, huh?" Your walls clenched by each word coming out of his filthy mouth.

"yes!yes!yes!", he fucked you deliciously good, your orgasm threatening to approach with his current pace.

You were cock drunk. Barely paying any kind of attention to the fact you were getting rammed out in public. Any person or car could pass by but your mind would only be focused on the way his dick drilled at a relentless speed.

His fingers sinked to your clit, rubbing your bud provoking your body to tremble in ecstasy of how he worked wonders on your body.

"Sir, i-it's too much!"

"You can take it ,baby. Milk my cock, make a mess.”

His words were perfectly on cue. Creaming his cock in your release. Falling limp into his arms. His release wasn't too far off yours. Head leaning into your neck as both of your panted. Silence went on for a few minutes before he helped with re-dressing you.

The officer broke the silence, "So, the names Jungkook. Could we perhaps exchange numbers, I'd like to take you out sometime soon.”

end

[xoxo-sarah]

Friendly

↝a/n: I'm just posting all my old fics in my notes app because I don't have any good ideas as of this moment.

↝pairing:Steve Harrington x reader

↝warning: angst, unrequited feelings, heartbreak, sad!reader, not proofread

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Steve Harrington, or any character from Stranger Things. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 4.27.24

You shouldn't be here. You knew that, but you couldn't help yourself. The feelings you had for Steve were eating at you, keeping you up at night. All the time you spend together felt like torture when you thought back to them. The glanced you would spare him even though he wasn't looking. He was never looking, not like you were.

The laughing and jokes were friendly for him, something he also did with his other friends. It just felt different for you.

You tried to keep it to yourself, you really did. It just became too much. Your thoughts were overfilling your skull, spilling out of your tear ducts late at night, when you were alone in your room.

You knocked at the door before you could stop yourself.

Steve opened the door, his face turning into one of pure bewilderment. Before he could even say hello, your mouth was open, words spewing out of it like vomit.

"I know it's late but I couldn't go to sleep. I need to get something off my chest and I need you to just...listen."

Steve went to open him mouth but closed it when your eyes harshly shut, watching as you conjured up the guts.

"I love you and I need you to love me too. Tell me that your thoughts have been of me just like mine have been of you." But you didn't say that, 'cause that would be even more pathetic than showing up at his doorstep in the middle of the night.

"You make me feel wanted and needed in a way I haven't felt before, and that's too much for me to have as just a friend." Your eyes opened, staring at the way his hand flexed against the door he held open.

Steve stood, shell-shocked.

"Tell me that the times you made me feel seen were you just being friendly. Please-"

"Steve?"

A head of blonde hair walked behind Steve, smiling politely at you, hand moving across the extension of Steve's back.

Your breath caught in your throat.

She leaned up to whisper something in his ear. He finally moved his gaze from your pathetic silhouette. He looked at her, his jaw slack from your confession. An absentminded nod was enough for her to sway back to where she came from, leaving you two in silence.

How does one come back from this? It is humiliating.

Steve bit his lip, scratching at his forehead.

"Can we talk about this another time?"

This time, it was your turn to be gobsmacked. You felt as if your life couldn't get any sadder.

Without a word, you turned, not knowing what you were supposed to do after confessing your feelings like that. Tears fell down your face before you were out of his driveway.

You couldn't show your face anywhere he would be. There is no way in hell.

The old feeling in your chest that told you to cherish every moment with Steve- the one that told you to reach out to hold his hand- was now demolished and replaced with regret.

This whole thing is just humiliating.

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

[feathersandfairytales]

Hogwarts Legacy - When they ask you out

Hi! I'm FelixShii, but you can just call me Felix. This is my first time posting anything on Tumblr, so please be gentle! I've had severe Hogwarts Legacy brainrot lately, so here's just a cute little preference for the main 3 companions + Ominis because I love him. I'm open for requests and ideas if you'd like to throw them my way! For now I'm just writing for these 4, but I'll probably be happy to write for some teachers and other students eventually. I can do fics, imagines, oneshots- pretty much anything. I hope you enjoy reading, and since I'm new here, don't be afraid to come and say hi! 💕

Very slight angst in Ominis' section- squint and you'll miss it, though. Reader is gender neutral and can fit into any house in all my works, unless explicitly stated otherwise. They are implied to be muggleborn in Ominis' section, though.

Sebastian Sallow

• On the outside, Sebastian would be just as charming and confident as ever, if not a little more skittish.

• Once out of your view though, Sebastian would stay up late many nights, pondering and overthinking. Dreams of you, anxious thoughts that his feelings would be one-sided.

• Eventually, it was actually Ominis who pushed Sebastian to confess his feelings to you. He told Sebastian it was because he was 'tired of hearing him shake and rock in his bed like a scared puffskein.' Sebastian knew it was really because Ominis wanted him to be happy.

• He'd ask you out to Hogsmeade by owl, inviting you for a butterbeer. Just the two of you.

•He'd start by talking about something mundane- deulling or classes, but you suspected something was up when he was fumbling over his words.

• When you asked him if he was feeling alright, it was like a dam broke. Strings of almost incoherent sentences spewed from his mouth, and he was blushing like a fool.

• Even with him bumbling like an idiot and as red as a beet, you got the message- and the two of you left The Three Broomsticks hand in hand, with lovestruck looks on your faces.

• With his earlier jumpy behaviour you'd expected something to be up with him, anyway- so him asking you out was only a little surprising.

• You hadn't however, expected Sebastian to lean in and kiss away the butterbeer froth from the top of your lip.

• He of course, only smirked at you smugly, pulling you back to the castle by your hand so you weren't late for class. If you were, he'd take the fall for you.

Ominis Gaunt

• At first Ominis really tries to deny his feelings.

• But he can't help the fact that his heart speeds up or his thoughts get cloudy around you.

• When he realises just how down bad for you he is, he pushes you away. Shuts you out. He didn't want you to get hurt. But, he makes sure to use his connections around the castle even if he's not with you- to make sure you're taking care of yourself.

• He knew what the Gaunts would do to a muggleborn like you if they knew he was romantically involved with you.

• You're really confused and hurt when he starts avoiding you in and outside of classes, and Sebastian is just as oblivious to the situation as you.

• One night you enter the undercroft to do some studying, as it's damp quiet was better than the beast chatter and cauldron bubbling of the room of requirement.

• You stop in your tracks when you hear quiet whining, spotting the crumpled heap that was Ominis Gaunt in the corner.

• He hadn't heard you, judging by how high he jumped in fear when you approached him.

• It takes a lot of coaxing and patience to get it out of him, but he eventually tells you what's going on and why he'd been avoiding you.

• All you can do is pull him closer to you, placing a kiss on his forehead and smiling softly. Of course your safety was his top priority. What a sweetheart. You inform him that his feelings for you are not unrequited, to which he responds by smiling brightly at you, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

Natsai Onai

• Natsai, being the brave and confident Gryffindor she is, isn't at all shy or embarrassed around you.

• Even with her feelings for you making her palms sweat and her heart race, she is just as friendly and happy around you as she normally would be.

• Actually confides in her mother for advice- not that she's nervous, she just wanted a second opinion on what to do.

• Her mother tries to read her palms, look at tea leaves and all other manner of odd divination tricks to try and help her.

• Natty knows her mother means well, but she wasn't exactly being helpful with any of this.

• So, after a moment of thinking, Natsai decides she doesn't need theatrics, she'll just ask you out when she wants to.

• So, the next morning at breakfast, Natty promptly sits down next to you at your table and beams brightly.

• Her confidence doesn't falter as she confesses her feelings to you while simultaneously piling her plate with food.

• You're just sat there, stunned at her straightforward nature. But, it makes sense- Natty is a Gryffindor after all.

• It takes you a moment to shake out of your surprise, but you eventually return her wide grin, only able to nod your head yes as she asks you to be her partner.

Poppy Sweeting

• Poppy is naturally a somewhat shy, timid and skittish girl, as most who knew her already knew.

• That is only amplified tenfold when she's around you

• You had caught her staring in your direction a few times in class, and she'd always let out a small squeak of surprise and look away, quickly hiding her rapidly reddening face.

• Every time you've tried to approach her about it, she'd practically ran away, spewing a quick excuse. You were starting to think something was wrong. Had you done something?

• One day to your surprise, Poppy stops you in front of your common room, her head down and something in her hands.

• She shoves it to you wordlessly before retreating quickly, her face bright red.

• Inside your palm is a note. Hand-written on parchment. You notice that most of the sentences are scratched out. The only readable part was the bottom. 'Meet me at the black lake, 9pm.'

• Upon arriving at the requested time, you spot a group of lacewing flies illuminating the lake. More importantly, you notice poppy sitting at the waters edge, fidgeting with something in her hand.

• She tries to act calmly upon noticing you've arrived, but her red face gives her away. She hands you the object in her hand. A pheonix feather- you gasp. It must have been hard for her to get this.

• You notice her breath is coming out in cold puffs, and wordlessly offer her your house scarf, which she wraps herself up in. You knew she was far too shy to say anything herself, so you just laughed quietly and told her that you liked her too. The two of you sat huddled together by the lake for so long that Poppy fell asleep on your shoulder.

[thetriumphantpanda]

hi charlie! 

to say the vibes have been off lately would be an understatement, wouldn’t it? because there has been a lot of negativity, too much for a place that is supposed to be about finding an outlet for your creativity and people to share your interests.

i know it has been difficult, draining to be around here and face all the discourse cankering the fandom. 

because of all this negativity, i believe it is important to try and balance it out with some kindness. so here i am, doing a little check-up on you <3

so first, how are you, really?

everything you feel regarding what is happening is valid and you deserve to feel happy and safe around here. so please, make sure you take the time you need from posting, from sharing fics, even just from being on the platform. i want you to know it’s okay and i support whatever you decide, for whatever reason.

i also want you to know that you have your place here, as much as the rest of us. you’re loved and wanted and i can assure you the fandom is a far better place with you in it.

i hope you’re taking care of yourself outside of tumblr as well. please remember to stay hydrated and to eat something 🫶🏼

now i would like you to sit back and enjoy the perfect, quiet night in with joel <3

do not hesitate to reach out if you need to talk, i’m here for you! sending you all my love and so many hugs 🫂

anna 💗

Ahhh Anna, this is so sweet of you - thank you for taking the time to try and combat so much of the negativity on here by spreading some love - it's so important!

I have had so many thoughts about what's been going on lately, some of which I'll share here, but I'll put under a read-more so if you're not wanting to read discourse, you don't have to!

I'm going to go and enjoy my quiet night in with Joel, because that would absolutely fix me right now and thank you for sharing that with me. He's making me a cup of tea right now and is going to bring it to me, we'll watch TV and I will continue crocheting a blanket for us to snuggle up under!

Take care of yourself Anna, and thank you for always being kind and wonderful on here!

If you've been around here a while, you'll know that I rarely, if ever, get involved and wade into the discourse that floats around often. It's not because I don't care, it's because this blog has, and always will be, my way to escape the pressure of my real life. I have enough personal drama to contend with outside of the internet, and I very rarely want to allow it to bleed into the one space I have where I can escape for some peace.

That being said, it has become harder and harder for me to ignore the absolute storm of shit that has been swirling these past weeks. My friends and mutuals having their works blatantly stolen and then receiving hate when calling this out. People I look up to and whose writing I enjoy being attacked for presenting certain kinks. The insane rise in anon hate being spouted not just here, but across other sites as well. It's all too much and it all has to stop.

The people on this site create fic because they enjoy it. They graciously and selflessly write thousands of words for your enjoyment, for free might I add, without asking for very much in return. They write often around full-time jobs, school work and through personal and health issues. They agonise over making sure their work is as good as they can make it. They don't owe you anything, we don't owe you anything. We do this because we enjoy it, but the current climate on this absolute hellsite is making the enjoyment really fucking hard to find these days.

Be kind to each other. Stop hiding behind the cloak of anonymity to spew hate and be mean. Stop stealing other people's work. If you come across a fic that has warnings or themes that aren't your cup of tea, stop reading and walk away. Take a step back and think about what will happen if writers are continuously driven off this site.

[lindszeppelin]

Austin is not settling down anytime soon. He is going to be working on his career and probably won’t get married until he is in his mid to late 30s. Nobody here actually knows what goes on in their “relationship”. Everybody just has theories. So as much as people may argue with the fact that we are “delusional” and that they “couldn’t be more in love” and that they are “endgame” they are just spewing shit out of their ass. Just like we don’t know what there relationship is like, neither do they. Yet they think that because they are happy for his relationship that they are better than us. We don’t think that this is pr because we are jealous and want to be with him (don’t get me wrong I would kill to be with Austin but I’m not delusional and I know that, that is never going to happen.) we think this is pr because we have seen time and time again that he doesn’t look happy. We have seen time and time again pr ploys to get us to believe that they are in love. We have seen time and time again that Kaia calls the paps to show how good of a “girlfriend” she is. And we have seen time and time again that he wants out. He does it in simple ways of lashing out when he’s papped with her, wearing a mask, not holding her hand, etc. I hope that when he gets out. Whether that is this year or next that he will take some time to focus on himself and maybe a year after he is recovered he will be able to date for real and find his forever person eventually. All I want is for him to be happy. And you can quite easily tell that it’s not with her.

Okay that was a lot holy shit sorry bout that lol. Also as someone with ADHD and OCD I definitely think he has a little something going on. I didn’t find out I had either until mid Covid so I hope that he is doing alright in that department and taking care of himself as best he can. Okay rant is finally over. Have a good night Linds and all the other anons. :)

i love you babe, i've seen your other messages and thought i would publish this one and end my night on tumblr with it :)

thank you for your input as always! and i agree with what you said. there's not a whole lot for me to interject with my own thoughts because we share the same ones!

[stephanothebard]

Oneirism schisms:

You walk in beauty, where shadows lie, where dreams come to rest once they die, where sunsets go backwards on a placid beach, the ocean picked at the seam, stich by stich.

Still constant is the ticking of a clock which will not stop, incessant stammer of the metronome of thought, reaped, still ripe, like crops, piling high up top and set alight into an incandescent blaze, smoking out incense, nonsense, coating the mind in a cancerous haze.

Beneath your feet you crush the glass-shard sand in which you stand as I cough up from the fumes, spewing up my doom onto waters which writhe in opaque hues, black and blue, but there’s no such thing as blue. Thus I hurl myself onto you.

You're monolithic, you're miniscule, you're weakness, you're might, you're marble, you're crystal, you're flesh, an otherwordly sight, reflecting refracted light from ghastly stars in the sky, and in the blink of an eye, another day flashes by as I lay sideways grasping your thigh.

Looking up again, up into your jaded eyes, why worry about the ending when it's just begun? One thread is cut, another is spun, another trip around the sun, twice repeated, now a third, fuck you, I'm not done.

And as everything falls down, dilapidated, time dilated, stretched out, served and plated, the sand crumbling below, sliding into the parting tide, like Moses, I'll strike the rock 'til a river flows, I have nothing to hide.

In this oneiric land in which you wander as it is torn asunder, ripped apart, where reality borders nothing and nothing leaves no mark, I'll follow you, until I break my bones or break my heart.

Little something I wrote on a late night while still very loopy from sleep deprivation, hope it's enjoyable! Still new to Tumblr so taking any recommendations.

[lonita]

B roll - 2024 01 01

01 - This would normally be the sort of dumps I’d throw on Twitter, but I don’t want to be all over the place with social media any more - so you guys get the joy of my daily spew. :)

01 - It’s mighty weird when you can’t read your own handwriting.

01 - I once listened to the fourth movement of Beethoven’s 9th symphony 13 times in a row on a single day.

01 - “The wound is the place where the light gets in.” Often attributed to Rumi, though there’s much debate about that. Still an impacting thought, whoever said it.

01 - Hot art tip of the day: If you’re colouring something and you’re not sure what colour you want to make it, put a clear sticky note over it and colour that. If you don’t like it, remove the sticky, put another im place, and try again until you find what you like.

01 - Maker idea of the day: You can make bookmarks/tabs for cheap by attaching ribbon to paper clips.

01 - Sometimes when I watch Veronica Mars and scenes when the Fitzpatrick family come on, I’m reminded of reading about the Black Donnellys in grade eight. I wish I could remember what book it was we had. I always thought that was a bit of an odd thing to give to kids that age to read - but The Stone Angel was even weirder a choice.

01 - I’ve just come up with a great name for a microblogging service that could be added into a larger service like Tumblr - B roll. For short things, like one would tweet were one not opposed to using Twitter to do such things.

01 - I wonder if the oddest conversation I’ve ever had with myself was when I wondered, briefly, whether the bladder was a bag or a sponge.

01 - I want a lava lamp.

01 - Watching Arabs do various version of dabke makes my knees hurt just looking at it. Ouchie.

01 - One of my uncles used to like the movie “Montenegro”, which they used to frequently show on late-night TV. For all the times I’d call him to tell him I’d seen it in the TV guide, I’ve never actually watched it.

01 - I wonder if anyone’s ever written any Veronica Mars fanfic involving Duncan’s daughter coming back to town.

01 - Creativity’s a funny thing. The more you do it, the more you do.

01 - When confronted with an online troll, responding to them with surreal sentences translated into French is most enrichingly entertaining.

01 - What TikTok gave me in 2023 (and earlier):

Saxsquatch

Four guys in animal masks playing popular songs with boom whackers

life moments acted out by crocheted frogs

Mr. Bones, a tiny skeleton and his quilting adventures

Dock Olympics

Buckets the Drummer

bapkat

Blast from the past (pre-2008)

I was looking up a quote on Google just now to ensure that it actually is from Oscar Wilde. The quote being: Nothing can cure the soul but the senses. Now Google, in its infinite wisdom and attempts to help, thought that I had perhaps spelled the quote wrong, so it gave me the following as an alternative: Nothing can cause the soul but the senses. Interesting twist, no?

[swolewhale]

Day 0 - The Not Beginning

To the random person who has stumbled upon this:

How the hell...

Allow me to explain some things.

My life for the past 12 years has been absolute shit and has been kicking my ass for so long that it’s made a hole (not that one). Since I have no life and can’t build up the will, energy, or fuck all to actually change that, I decided I’ll do something fucking stupid and broadcast this shit to this corner of the internet.

Now specifically, I’m going to try and use this as a way to focus and point out positive things in my day to day experiences and see if that changes anything cause fuck if anything else does. Therapy doesn’t work, can’t even tell with the meds, so fuck it, something new why not?

Right now I’m at the lowest point in my life, even though that seems to be every passing day so eh; But hopefully years in the future (if I make it that far (or hell if any of us do)) I’ll be able to look back at these post and see how far I’ve come and keep pushing forward since, shit dude, if I got through this then what the fuck can stop me?

Now I also won’t lie, I’ve kinda already done this. Nowhere on the internet, but in a small book, then smaller notebooks, then actual notebooks I think, I don’t remember fully. But I’ve been trying to get this kind of thing going for a bit, but those all failed really. Especially when I started trying to rate the day out of 10. That was not a good idea.

Do I expect this to go on for long?: Fuck if I know. The only reason I’m doing this right now is because I thought about doing it tomorrow, but realized that no the fuck I wouldn’t.

Who do you expect to see this?: I don’t know really. Hell I don’t know if I want anyone to see this. I don’t use this account for anything (or tumblr for that matter). It’s just that, well, I used to do this late at night on twitter where no one would see them, even if the algorithm didn’t already. It was just my sorta venting area but there are a couple of people there that actually know me and I don’t want them to have to deal with my bullshit. One of them is struggling as is and the other is probably better off without me in their life anymore. Not like we’ve really talked over the past few years, but still.

Will this daily blog thingy have a format or any sort of consistency to it whatsoever?: Other than the goal of positivity and the Day ___ thing, most likely not. This is all shit that I just want to spew from my mind and get out there. I might generate a random question for each post though since... well in all honesty I just like answering questions. I have no idea why. Only guess I’ve got is that I’ve been in my own head for so long I just want to share it with whoever finds it. Oh, there is the fact that I’m gonna try to do this every night before I go to bed.

What now?: Now I go the fuck to sleep cause I’ve been tired all day cause the last 2 have been horrible mentally and I think I got all the important shit down. Plus sleep schedule, and shit tomorrow etc. etc. I would wish you a better night that the one I will, but that implies that someone will see this in the first place. Plus it’s a bar that not even Satan can play limbo with.

[ynscrazylife]

Could you do a request where the superfriends are misjudging the reader because Lena is just super detailed with them and everyone think they are a gold digger so they treat them badly, mostly ignoring them so they put some distance between them and Lena since they knows Lena needs more her friends than them but Lena proves them wrong. Thank you!

Gold Digger

Summary: The Superfriends suspect that Lena’s new girlfriend is a gold digger. When Lena finds out why they’ve distanced themselves from her and Y/N, she’s furious.

Authors Note: Thanks for requesting!

Request to be on a Taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

DCEU Masterlist | Main Masterlist

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

header c @/lkromanoff

“Do you see how many gifts Luthor gives her?”

“I doubt she’s actually attracted to Luthor, I mean, who would want her? It’s the money, I bet.”

“Wouldn’t be surprised if Y/L/N magically got a promotion too!”

In the beginning of their relationship, Y/N had gotten awfully upset when she heard those comments. Lena found her crying once and when she found out the reason, she scolded her employees and the news reporters that said such things and that stopped them . . . For a bit.

Around the holidays when Lena had spoiled Y/N and gotten her the most beautiful of clothes, the rumors started up again, growing bigger and bigger. Y/N learned to brush it off and was used to it by now; since Lena had always told her to pay them no attention, they were just desperate people spewing silliness and lies. 

Her brunette girlfriend also introduced her to her friends, the “Superfriends” as they were nicknamed: Alex and Kara Danvers, Winn Schott, and James Olsen. Y/N was charmed by all of them and, perhaps it was because of how much she was used to the public’s behavior, she didn’t notice the reason why they were acting a little cold, standoff-ish, with her. 

In fact, when Lena and Y/N were running late for game night, the group took it upon themselves to gossip. “Did you see the necklace Y/N was wearing the other night? So fancy . . . Lena said she got it for her,” Alex commented. 

“I know,” Kara murmured, going through her file of memories. “Lena bought her that dress, too!” 

“Doesn’t Y/N work at L-Corp, too?” Winn asked, oblivious to what the sisters were getting at. 

“She’s probably dating Lena for a promotion or money,” Alex said in a sing-song voice before taking a gulp of her wine. Her words made the rest recoil. 

“You think so?” Kara asked, scrunching up her face. 

Alex shrugged and then thought. “If she comes in wearing a new thing that Lena bought her, will you consider it then?” She proposed. 

The group thought on it and to humor her, they said yes. 

Alex claimed victory, though, when the fashionably late couple waltzed in, Y/N wearing some shiny new earrings. From then on, they began to conspire a bit; talking, judging, until one night they reached a decision. 

It was a couple weeks later and Alex and Kara had pulled Lena aside to talk to her. 

“Is everything alright?” Lena asked, crossing her arms and glancing between her friends. 

“We’re a bit concerned, Lena,” Kara began softly and slowly. 

Lena laughed off her nerves. “What about?” She said, unable to think of anything that would worry them. 

“It’s . . . Y/N. We’ve seen everything you’re buying for and we’re just a little concerned that she may be using you . . . for your money,” Alex admitted. 

Lena’s jaw dropped in horror and her eyes practically glowed red, body seething with the newfound and big wave of anger washing over her like a wave. Except it didn’t settle down like a normal wave would into the tide, as more waves came, each bigger than the last.

She opened her mouth, hoping to form her raging and rushing swarm of thoughts and feelings into a coherent sentence, but a loud, shrilled gasp cut her off. 

The there turned around to see Y/N rooted in place at the doorway. Her eyes were wide, tears glossing them, utter hurt and confusion in her orbs. “I was just coming to get Lena because her phone was ringing . . . You left the door open,” she said, defeated, before turning around and rushing out. 

Lena took a big breath and turned back to her “friends”. “How dare you?!” She exclaimed, shocking them. “You know little of our relationship to be making these kinds of accusations! Y/N is not using me for money. Yes, I buy her gifts, because I love it when she’s smiling, and you know what she says every time I get her a gift? That she doesn’t deserve it . . . God, you are cruel,” she said, leaving no time for them to react or to form a response, as she rushed out, in pursuit of her girlfriend. 

Lena almost ran past her where she stood at the elevator, her sobs echoing off the walls. The anger in her dissipated and she let her caring nature kick in, wrapping her arms around Y/N and pulling her into a hug. “Don’t listen to them, okay?” She whispered, playing with Y/N’s hair. The woman sniffed and nodded into her girlfriend’s shoulder. 

Lena then leaned back and took Y/N’s face in her hands. “They know nothing,” she said, maintaining eye contact, and then kissing her before putting her arm around her waist. The couple went back to their apartment and shared a lovely night, just the two of them.

Permanent Taglist: @natasharomanoffismywife @hehehehannahthings @paulawand @blackbat2020 @cerberus-spectre @marrymemcgrath @celestialbarnes

DCEU Taglist: @stephanieromanoff @basiclesbianbitch @extraordinary-fangrl @hi-i-1 @mmmmokdok

[robyntherav3n]

sol

[mmvalentine]

Home is Where You Are pt 1 | Feysand

Girl next door AU. Part 2 now up.

Rhys hadn’t seen Feyre in over ten years. It was strange for him to think about, because they had always been so close. They had grown up next door to each other, and had been best friends as children. As they got older, Rhys had flown into fits of jealous rage when Feyre suddenly had a hundred other friends and he was left behind. Then there was that one night, when they were thirteen and camping out in the Archerons' back yard, and giggling in the tent, they had decided to find out what all the fuss was about kissing.

They had leaned in, pressed their lips together, and held their breath. Five seconds went by, and then Feyre pulled back, laughing.

“It’s kind of... wet,” she had said, wiping her mouth of the back of her hand. But Rhys been too stunned to say anything. He followed Feyre’s lead as she lay back in her sleeping bag and launched into a story about a particularly annoying boy at school, and Rhys had pretended to listen. But all the while, his fists were clenched tight at his side, as he fought to get in control of the strange, hot sensation that had started where Feyre’s mouth touched his and had somehow pooled in his stomach like lava. More troublingly, it was moving further south, and the young teenage Rhys was baffled by the apparent autonomy the lower part on his anatomy had lately been growing.

And then the next day Feyre’s mother had a stroke in the kitchen, and hadn’t survived the ambulance ride. And her father, grief stricken and barely functional, and up and moved the whole family to the other side of the country to avoid any reminder of his dead wife. Hadn’t actually managed to sell the house, just abandoned it and let it sit empty and decay over the years. And Rhys, Rhys was left alone with his drunk, bitter father, and he never got to tell Feyre that he was sorry her mother had died, that he knew exactly what it felt like and wanted to be there for her, that he was pretty sure he loved her with all of his thirteen year old heart.

Over the next decade, Rhys’ father got older but not more sober. His arm weakened, thankfully, although his aim somehow never did. Rhys cared for him the best he could until he died- liver failure of course- and then up and moved to the city using the money from his fathers estate. There was a surprisingly large amount of money for the frequency with which Rhys had been fed hot meals as a kid.

He had looked Feyre up on social media, but she was working as an artist now and her photos were all of her work, very rarely with her in them. He had wanted to message so many times, but when he saw how well she was doing, it hadn’t seemed right. Not when he felt like a stark reminder of such a bad time in her life.

And then her father had passed away, leaving them both orphans, and she had reached out to him.

By email, for chrissake. Like some kind of professional courtesy.

Hi Rhys,

Long time no see. I’m guess you’ve head the news by now. Cancer, in the end. But I think he was sort of waiting to die for a long time. Anyway, Nesta and Elain have pretty much checked out of the situation, and so I’ve taken over the big job- selling the old house. My sisters basically said just do it and send us the money.

The upshot is, I’ll be travelling back to the old neighbourhood in about a week. I know it’s been forever, but you lived in that house most as much as we did. I was wondering if you wanted to come down and hang out, before we sell it. I’ve been talking to realtors and I’ll probably be there just a few days, and then leave it to them. I don’t know how any of this works to be honest.

You’re welcome to come with me if you want, but no pressure.

Feyre

Rhys had written back straight away, and before he knew it he was on a plane. Back to that sad little suburb, with its malignant houses and crumpled people. To his father's house, where there were cracks in the wall that Rhys' younger bones had bade. To the Archeron home, where he had found refuge after the old man had passed out, drunk.

To Feyre.

He had no idea what to expect. Had spent the whole flight full to the brim of jitters, and wondering what it would be like to see her again, and cursing himself for letting it get this far and then to not have been the one to reach out first.

And then his feet marched themselves down the crooked streets, knowing where to go instinctively, so before he knew it he was standing before his old house. And hers.

Actually being there was like a punch in the gut. Rhys suddenly felt eight years old again, and even the anticipation of how his old house smelled had nausea rolling in his gut. He didn't think he'd be so affected by it. He wondered if anyone had moved into the house- there were no cars or toys in the front yard, but the garden wasn't overgrown. Not like the Archeron house.

His old neighbour's place looked terrible. Mould was growing over the peeling paint, a few of the windows in the front were cracked, and weeds reigned over the garden. So different from when the girls had lived here, and Elain had been so dilligent with her botanical care.

Rhys remained in silent contemplation for another minute or so, and then, taking him quite by surprise, the front door opened. And there stood Feyre.

Rhys eyes threatened to throw themselves out of their sockets. He worked to keep his jaw shut, and his heart squeezed painfully in his chest at the sight of her.

Feyre was gorgeous.

Little girl Feyre had white blonde hair, skinny arms, and blue bug-eyes. Little boy Rhys had loved her exactly how she was, and had thought she was the most perfect person in the world.

Grown up Feyre was astounding.

Her hair had darkened to the colour of gold and honey, and now curled gently over her shoulders. Her frame had filled out to accommodate softly curving hips and a modest cleavage. She had grown into her eyes, the delicate grey-blue of them like rain-clouds on the horizon. Rhys had been waiting and waiting to meet Feyre again, but this... this was ridiculous.

Since leaving his father's house, Rhys had to admit he spent a lot of time on his body. He never wanted to feel so weak as when he was six years old and unable to protect his mother from his father's rage. Thankfully, as a teenager he started to pile on muscle quite easily. And then after moving out, he made sure to tattoo over the scars on his chest so that his father had no say over what his skin looked like.

And yet now he felt tiny again, and devastated that this Feyre was completely out of his league. He didn't know what to say to her.

Turned out, he didn't have to.

"Rhys!" Feyre said, seeing him standing there. She crossed the yard in a few strides, and before he got so much as a 'hello' out, Feyre had wrapped her arms around him. The smell of her neck right under his nose floored him. She pulled back, with her hands still on him.

"Rhys, I can't believe you're here!" Feyre looked him up and down, and laughed. "Well you got big, huh?"

God, her laugh. He didn't remember it being so musical.

"Hey Feyre," he said out loud. "I'm sorry about your dad." Feyre squeezed his arms. "Thanks. And thank you for coming. It's really good to see you." "It's good to see you," Rhys said. "I'm so sorry it's taken so long." "Well, we're here now," Feyre said, and in that moment Rhys was determined to never let her get that far away from him again.

"So how have you been?" Rhys started to ask. But at that moment, the door opened again, and a man with a blonde man-bun stepped out. He looked like one of those surfer dudes Rhys had never liked.

"Babe," he said. "There's definitely termites in there. It's gonna lower the price point for sure."

Rhys stared. Babe?

Feyre rolled her eyes. "Great, just add it to the list."

It was then that the man noticed Rhys. He extended a hand.

"Hey buddy, I'm Tamlin," he said. "Hey... buddy," Rhys replied tersely. Feyre jumped in. "Tamlin, this is Rhys, he used to live next door when we were kids." Feyre put her hand on Tamlin's arm, and smiled a heartbreaking smile at him.

"Rhys, this is Tamlin. My fiancé."

****

So okay, it has been one week since I hit tumblr and spewed my story telling guts all over you lovely, sweet, kind people.

I know you connected really well with Lockdown Lovers, and it seems maybe a bit less well with Circus of Dreams? So I am throwing out one more AU, a little darker this time. I will keep posting CoD, but please let me know what you think and what you guys want to read.

Anyway I have been uploading manically over the last 7 days and at the moment I feel like I'm bombarding you with my filthy daydreams, so I'm going to try very hard to take a couple days off writing and let people actually read the damn things!

Finally, thank you so, so much for the support and love. I've been using this place to escape from personal problems and you have been outstanding. Hopefully in a few days I'll post at a more reasonable rate and from a better head space.

Thank you, lovers.

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-babies

[lightsinthedistancee]

CONGRATULATIONS, IMA! A well-deserved milestone!

Could I please request angst prompt 26. “don’t shut me out.” for our favorite hot space droid dad, Poe? I can’t wait to see what you come up with!

Congrats again!! 💕💕

-@tlcwrites from my main blog (Tumblr, please get on letting us send asks from side blogs!)

Thank you, @tlcwrites! I was so hoping someone would choose this prompt! This one came to me and really spoke to me, and I really enjoyed writing it, so hope you enjoy!

“Don’t shut me out.” + Poe Dameron x Reader

..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::..

Disintegrate

Words: 1k

Summary: “Poe draws in a violent breath of air, hands grabbing his own curls, gripping, pulling, till the pain serves as an existing, yet still insufficient, distraction to his agony.

“He decides a single thing—he has to do better.”

In the aftermath of a failed mission, Poe confronts the unbearable guilt of death under his command.

..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::..

A gambler, a savior, and a mother.

Three pilots. Three people. Gone.

The air is warm, stagnant, a bit suffocating in nature as Poe sits in his room. His head is buried in his hands as he rubs his face, hard enough to hurt whenever the heels of his palms slide over his eyes.

There’s something especially devastating about hearing death over comms. Watching a ship obliterated, pilot and all, and then waiting that dreaded half a second to hear the scream, the cry, the bang in his earpiece.

It’s even more devastating to undergo such a process three times in the midst of a plan of attack he himself had developed.

The first pilot: a young man from Corellia with a penchant and true talent for a good gamble whenever the squadron happened to be on a casino planet. The kind who could calculate every potential move and fill up an entire room with life.

The second: a young one not yet twenty. One that Poe had shared many conversations with, one he’d developed a protectiveness over, one who’d saved the squadron countless times with an intuition Poe could never even dream of possessing.

The third: a woman with a daughter back on Yavin IV, barely a twenty-minute fly from Poe’s childhood home. A daughter that he’d met once, who’d asked him in the pure innocence of a five-year old to ‘keep her mama safe.’

Poe draws in a violent breath of air, hands grabbing his own curls, gripping, pulling, till the pain serves as an existing, yet still insufficient, distraction to his agony.

He decides a single thing—he has to do better.

..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::..

Three pilots is too many for one simple mission, Poe decides. More than one means that one is beyond fate, beyond chance. More than one means that there’s a flaw.

And the desire to find that flaw is Poe’s new obsession. He throws himself into his work, he hides himself from everyone, he recoils from you.

At each of your attempts to console him, he hates himself even more, he hates you even more. He hates the lies that you spew from your lips when you tell him it’s not his fault, he hates when you call them his friends because, yes, they were, but they were more too. They were under his command.

They were his to protect.

And he’d failed.

..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::..

Disintegration.

It’s the first word that comes to your mind when you see what Poe is becoming.

He’s…unhinged, unstable. He doesn’t sleep well. He eats at the oddest hours. He allows work to consume him.

The next mission plan he develops is the new focus of his life. He works late nights on it, sometimes well into the morning, sitting at the desk in your shared quarters, leg bouncing incessantly, non-stop in his hyper-focus.

“Poe,” you say softly one night, approaching him from behind, resting your arms on his shoulders.

He hums quietly, mostly oblivious to your presence, leg still bouncing away.

“It’s late,” you continue. The papers and holopad in front of him are stained with diagrams and notes of an evidently completed and checked-over plan. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to find it,” he mumbles, not even sparing you a glance.

“Find what?”

“The flaw.”

You sigh, eyes slowly shutting. His muscles beneath you are tired. They shift with his movements, wearily helping his body move as you silently stare at the wall.

“This can’t go on forever, love,” you tell him, feeling for the side of his face, touching it gently. “You’re hurting yourself.”

He sighs, rubbing his face tiredly, briefly covering the bags under his eyes.

“It’s not your fault—“

“It is my fault!,” he says loudly, making you jump slightly, his body jerking out of its defeated, slumped-over posture. “Stop fucking saying it’s not.”

You fall silent, grappling with the divided air between the two of you. Without a thought, you drop to your knees before him, gently grasping his hand. “Why do you think it is?” you whisper.

“Because my plan was flawed. I thought we went over this already.”

You merely stare at him in continuing silence. He stares back, unsure of you, of what’s happening, of everything. “No,” you simply state. “Tell me why you think it’s your fault.”

“What?” He looks at you exasperated, for he’s just told you.

“Don’t shut me out, Poe.” You press a kiss to the back of his hand. “Tell me more.”

He blinks, pausing before pulling you up. In such a circumstance, he hates seeing you on your knees before him, as if you’re begging. Perhaps you are. Now you’re asking for something deeper.

As you gently grasp his chin and press a soft kiss to his lips, he melts into you.

Every kiss since the incident had felt like a pity, like a cheap attempt to make him feel better. Every touch had been laced with animosity, for his stress had inevitably sparked your own.

But this one is just you. No other feelings or sensations defiled by a subtle hatred or a brewing conflict. Just your lips, just your fingers.

And he tells.

He tells of a life filled with a nagging need to feel responsible for everyone. A life filled with a horrible anxiety about unintentionally hurting others.

He tells of his parents who’d always presented themselves as expectations of what he had to be just by simply existing.

He tells of the pain he’s seen on the battlefield, of how all of it had built up an insurmountable paranoia of himself being the potential cause of such a thing one day.

And all that fear, all that anxiety had burned brighter and brighter, leading to now, where he’s finally snapped, sitting on the bed with your arms wrapped around him, his face hidden in your hair.

He can feel himself trembling, for he knows that it’s all out there now—his pain, his weakness, his vulnerabilities—and that it can’t be taken back. That it’s become a spot rife with potential for conflict and insecurity.

Yet you still hold him tight, doing your best to soothe his trembles, to make him feel secure in your presence once again. “I’ve got you, love,” you whisper.

..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::..

A/N: There’s like a 90% chance I’ll reformat this into actual fic form as a separate post because I really like it, so if anyone sees this again tomorrow, don’t mind me!

Taglist (for everything): @dark-academics-and-florals @princessxkenobi @theultimateslashgirl @djjarins @jitterbugs927

Taglist (for Poe): @synical-paradox @paper-n-ashes @spider-starry

(Btw, to anyone on my taglist, for the 100 follower prompts, I’ll probably only tag you all on the longer ones or the shorter ones I really, really like. Probably gonna be a lot coming out soon; don’t want to bother y’all 🙂)

Anyone who wants to be added to my taglist, just let me know!

[writingblackpink]

Coincidence (pt. 1)

genre: fluff (?)

word count: 3.6k

pairing: rosé x reader

Wherein your friend drags you out to dinner and you meet a familiar face....but is that all she is?

A/N: Hi :) Here’s another Rosé x reader I’ve had in the reserves for a while! A part 2 is in the works, but if you have any suggestions or ideas, drop them in my ask! Enjoy! 

-

You don’t even know why you’re here. You really, like REALLY, wanted to stay home and call it an early night after the week you’ve had. Your boss seemed to only speak to you to tell you you’d done something wrong, a pipe burst in you and your friend’s apartment causing the both of you to rearrange the furniture once (and then back again four days later once the landlord was able to get someone to fix it.), and to top it all off, you spilled coffee down your white blouse on the way in to work today and didn’t have time to go home to change so you sat in a coffee stained shirt in four meetings enduring your colleagues’ judgmental eyes while you tried to make light of the situation by making fun of yourself for spilling the coffee in the first place. It didn’t help at all - if anything, it just made your coworkers think you were even more strange than they already thought you were. Curse your caffeine addiction. Honestly, you probably need a new job, but that’s an issue for another day. Right now, you just want to be wrapped in a blanket in your cozy bed, blocking out the outside world and getting a good night’s rest but it just seems like nothing can go your way this week.

So, you’re here, in the passenger seat of your best friend’s car, face pressed against the window as you stare up at the city lights. You actually think it’s kind of beautiful, the neon on the signs above you mixed with the light mist on the window causing the color to soften and blur just a bit. The sounds of the bustling city muffled by the alt radio station your friend likes to listen to and the sound of the car driving through the rain kissed streets. It kind of looks like the tumblr moodboards you always see while scrolling your dash late at night. If you were creatively inclined at all you’d probably take out your phone for a picture to post to your small Instagram following, but then you remember that you don’t even want to be here so you’d rather wallow and pout for a bit longer.

“You look like a sad puppy with your face squished against the window like that,” your friend whines out. You peel your face away from the window and turn towards her, not missing the pout across her lips.

“I told you I don’t even want to go out.” You mumble back.

Your friend always has a way of making you do things you’d rather not. And it’s really not like you hate doing them. You do like her company after all and don’t mind spending time together regardless if you’re doing something you personally enjoy or not. Nine times out of ten, you actually enjoy doing whatever she drags you out to do, but you’d never say that out loud. At least not right now.

Tonight was different. She had mentioned that one of her coworkers that she has the tiniest crush on invited her to dinner except it’s not a date because her coworker was bringing a friend and she was bringing you. You tried to convince her to just go herself and tell her coworker she wants it to be a date, but that was more so because you REALLY did not want to go and not because you wanted or cared to see your friend happy. You did care for her happiness, just not in this particular moment. She caught on to the act pretty quickly and wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Just like every other time, you caved.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” she said, looking at you with a wide smile and pleading eyes. “You always say you need to branch out and meet new people. This is a good opportunity to do so. I mean, you’ve had the same four friends forever. Expand your world!”

She did have a point. When you moved to the city together after college, she immediately met and made a handful of friends. Most of the friends you have currently are people you’ve met through her. It’s been over a year now and you still have yet to branch out. The more you thought about it, the more you were losing your resolve not to go.

“Alright, alright, I’ll go. You can stop pouting. But if this dinner is lame I’m SO calling myself an Uber and getting the hell out.”

You left it at that as she squealed and grabbed her keys, telling you that there were reservations soon and, oh, also that she’s only giving you ten minutes to get ready. You grumbled your way up to your room, cursing under your breath and immediately regretting agreeing to this mysterious dinner.

She pulls into a parking spot and cuts the engine on the car, abruptly stopping the soft sound of the radio and leaving you two in the silence with only the rhythmic tapping of rain drops sprinkling across the windshield. You get lost in the serenity of the moment before your friend rips you away.

“Hey, let’s go. We’re already like,” you follow her gaze to where she glances quickly at the time on her phone, “ten minutes late, thanks to you.” The last part muttered more softly and sarcastically than the rest.

You roll your eyes and go to unlatch the door, immediately letting the cool air slide into the car. It’s a brisk fall evening. Not too chilly, but the quiet mist falling from the sky mixed with the cool breeze makes you want to crawl back into the car and never come out. Goosebumps break out along your skin when the wind brushes against you. You really should’ve brought a jacket, you think. You round the car and your friend immediately links your arm with hers, happily swinging them back and forth.

“I’m so glad you decided to come out,” she says cheerfully, and put that way, you can’t deny that her happiness doesn’t also make you feel glad you decided to come out.

You step into the restaurant together, the change in temperature causing you to briefly shiver as you adjust to the warmth. It’s nothing too fancy, just a casual sushi place across town you’ve been to a few times. The place is modern and open, with tables scattered uniformly around the room. Definitely targeted to people your age. It’s moderately busy for a Friday night, but not too busy, which you appreciate. The last thing you wanted to do was spend the evening yelling at each other over the loud voices of strangers in a crowded restaurant. If you had to leave the house, you decided this was an okay place to be.

“How many in your party?” The server asks. You stay silent while your friend smiles politely and mentions that you’re actually meeting someone here, eyes already scanning the room. The server smiles and backs away, letting your friend search for whoever you’re both meeting.

“Ah, there they are!” She exclaims, her eyes lighting up as she pulls your hand and weaves in between tables to get to your destination. As you follow her gaze, your eyes land on a table with two women facing away from you, one blonde, one brunette. That must be them, you think to yourself.

As you get closer to the table, you hear a fit of laughter erupt from the blonde. The sound is familiar, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. The sound was so warm and inviting, maybe that’s why it seems familiar you think to yourself as you both continue moving towards the table. Your friend rounds the square table and who you believe to be her coworker looks over with wide eyes realizing who’s finally arrived.

“I’m so sorry, we would’ve been here on time, but THIS one took her sweet time getting ready.” She uses her thumb to point in your direction and you immediately scoff, of course going to defend yourself.

“Excuse you, you literally told me ten minutes before we had to leave that we were even coming here, so sorry that—“

“Anyways,” she cuts you off “what’s important is that we made it...eventually. This is my best friend Y/N. Y/N this is Ashley, my coworker.” You immediately hold your hand out for a handshake, but she grabs your wrist and pulls you in for a tight hug. In your peripheral vision you see the blonde facing your direction, but she’s slightly out of focus so you can’t tell if she’s actually looking at you or just in your direction.

“Any friend of Joy is a friend of mine.” And you think that this girl is a little too friendly for your liking. Not that you didn’t like affectionate people, it’s just that, you didn’t like affectionate people tonight.

As you pull away you glance over to the blonde, eyeing you like a piece of meat, eyes lidded and a small smirk gracing her features. She’s really pretty, you think for a moment. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders in waves, each strand perfectly in its place. You take a moment to admire the shape of her eyes, almost almond-like, but accentuated by the light smokey makeup look she was going for. She’s just wearing a simple top and jeans, just like everyone else here, but there’s something about her that captivates you. There’s something in the familiarity of her laugh, the warmth of her eyes that makes you think––

Realization hits you. You definitely know this woman. How, you can’t remember, but she seems to see that spark light inside you as your eyes widen slightly in her direction, and she immediately reaches her hand out to shake from across the table.

“Hi. I’m Rosie. It’s nice to meet you.”

“I’m so sorry, but have we met before?” You spew out, eyebrows furrowed and looking directly into her eyes before really thinking and she snaps back quickly in her soft voice with “Uh, no. I think I would’ve remembered a pretty face like yours.”

Smooth, you think sarcastically. You’re not really in the mood for cheesy one-liners and her lips ticking up in a closed-lip smile just makes it worse. She moves to shake your friend’s hand too and then her gaze lands back on you. She said she didn’t know you, that you two have never met, however the smirk and quick wink she gives you when the other two in your party divert their attention elsewhere tells you a different story. Sensing some weird tension, you feign a cough and divert your eyes to your chair, moving as everyone decides to take their seats.

As dinner progresses you make small talk with the group, just wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. No need to drag this out when your bed is waiting for you at home. Rosie keeps looking at you with admiration, and throughout the whole meal you’ve been wracking your brain to try and remember where you know this girl from. “Come on, Y/N, THINK.”

Just as you were about to decline on dessert and ask for the check, Ashley and Rosie ask for the dessert menu. The waiter brings over four menus and you sigh, giving in and scanning the items. The table has since gone silent in deliberation, and while you’re trying to decide on the cheesecake vs. the chocolate cake, you feel what you think is someone kicking you under the table. You brush it off as an accident and go back to scanning the menu. Except it happens again, and this time whoever is doing it lingers a little longer at your shin, and yeah, that’s a bare foot. You look up to find everyone else looking down, but you glare at Rosie sitting directly across from you just a moment longer. If only you can figure out where you know her from…

You brush it off a second time, not wanting to make a scene, but it happens a third time, and this time when you look up, you find dark eyes peeking at you suggestively over the menu and it suddenly feels like you’ve been hit by a truck. You’re starting to remember bits and pieces, but you can’t create a coherent memory.

A few weeks ago your friend had convinced you yet again to “let loose” and “have some fun” and go out with her and some other friends to some bar that had just opened. You may have gotten a little too loose, to the point where you can’t remember all the fun you actually had. You don’t even really like to drink all that much, you’re usually the designated driver, but there was something about this night that told you to throw all caution to the wind.

You remember getting into an Uber with your friends and heading to the bar. You remember having a few drinks. You remember meeting who you now know as Rosie at the bar, and then everything after that got fuzzier. You both spent some time whispering in each others’ ears in the darkest corner of the bar, drowning out the pounding of the music and the voices of strangers and their drunken dialogue, and you remember leaving with her and taking her to your apartment, but the next thing you remember is waking up in your own bed with a pounding headache and in nothing but an oversized t-shirt, water and pills at your bedside table and a post-it note left on your bedroom door with a “Had fun last night. Hope the hangover isn’t all that bad. Call me -xx”, followed by a phone number. For the life of you, you couldn’t remember the girl’s name, but you felt warm when you thought about the night before, so you added the number in your phone with the lip emoji next to it for no reason other than you wanted to remember the warm feeling that ignited when you thought of her.

Chugging the water and exiting your room late in the afternoon, Joy greeted you with a “So, you had fun last night, huh? I heard you bring someone home? I can’t believe it!” she teased you, “You are able to have a good time!”

You scoffed it off with a “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” rubbing your temples and trying to ignore the ringing in your ears and the blush rising in your cheeks. Your friend never pushed you more about it, and you were grateful for that. You didn’t really have much to tell her anyways.

You’re also not one to bring home pretty girls from bars, but, again, something about that night made you throw every inhibition you had out the window. Maybe it was Rosie herself (from what you can remember, you liked her), maybe it was the alcohol. You couldn’t know for sure and it didn’t really matter. It wasn’t something you regretted, but you also weren’t super proud of it.

You immediately feel heat rush to your face and you feel her foot move up your leg once again. Just as the waiter walks over to the table, you feel the heat in the tips of your ears and just know you won’t be able to make a viable excuse if anyone catches you blushing THIS aggressively. You shoot up out of your chair so suddenly that it draws the attention of everyone at the table, specifically noting how startled Rosie looks at you jolting away from her touch.

“Um, I’m, uh, going to go to the restroom. I’ll pass on dessert.” With that, you turn quickly on your heels and make a beeline for the restroom. As you make it halfway there, you faintly heard Rosie say that she’s going to make a pit stop as well and you hear her chair move as she rises to follow shortly after.

“Shit...shit, shit, shit,” you curse under your breath as you hurriedly make your way into a stall, trying to think of ways you can avoid this humiliation as much as possible. Your non-confrontational attitude causes anxiety to peak in your chest. That, combined with Rosie’s unpredictable actions tonight, has you feeling a bit light-headed. Your breathing shallows. As you’re pacing in the confined space, you hear the door open and close, but no movement. Is she….is she waiting for you?

You decide to take a deep breath and unlock the door, but you gasp when she immediately puts her hand on your shoulder and pushes you against the cool tile wall across from the stall. There’s no one besides you two in there, and you’re worried she can hear your heart basically beating out of your chest. Hell, YOU can hear your deafening heartbeat echoing in your ears.

She moves in like she’s going to kiss you and you immediately tense up. This was not what you were planning on happening when you agreed to dinner tonight. In retrospect, you really should’ve called the Uber as soon as your friend pulled into the parking lot.

You could feel Rosie’s breath on your lips and it was all too much for you. The way she was looking at you, eyes heavy and lidded and oh, so seductive - her scent, faint vanilla and lavender notes that wafted through your nostrils. You couldn’t decide if you wanted to push her away or pull her impossibly closer. You could feel yourself getting lost in everything that was just her and your eyes screwed shut as everything became too much.

You were surprised when she didn’t kiss you. Instead, you felt her lean towards your right side and bring her mouth so close to your ear it made you shiver. The arm that wasn’t on your shoulder moved to rest her palm flat on the wall next to your face. You opened your eyes, but you could no longer see her face. The hairs on the tip of your ear reach up to meet the warm breath fanning across it. You felt your breathing pick up the closer she got.

“Why didn’t you ever call me, baby? You have my number, right?” she whispers seductively, sending a tingle down your spine. It’s so silent, you almost didn’t hear her with how loud your heartbeat is thumping in your ears.

Just as you open your mouth to stumble out a reply, she takes your ear lobe between her teeth and gives it a playful bite. You let out an embarrassing whimper as she does so, feeling yourself immediately melt into her. As she’s pulling away, the door to the bathroom opens and Joy walks in, but stops in her tracks when she sees the two of you.

You both snap your heads toward the intruder. You’ll admit, you’re in a bit of a compromising position, and you can’t tell right now if it would’ve been better for a stranger or Joy to find you like this.

You clear your throat and fidget away from Rosie, straightening out your shirt and moving to the sink to wash your hands while clearing your throat again. Rosie walks past your friend in the mirror and out the door like nothing ever happened. After washing your hands, you also walk past your friend without saying a word, leaving her shocked in the bathroom.

You walk back to the table and find that Rosie has easily fallen back into conversation with Ashley, while you feel like there’s a permanent blush brushed across your features. You try to ignore that though, and join in the conversation just as Joy is making her way back to the table. She glares at you a moment, still confused, and even though you see her trying to get your attention, you ignore her and hope she just takes it as you being too immersed in the current conversation to notice.

The rest of the evening goes by smoothly. No suggestive touching or longing glances, but you’re now realizing that that was what made this dinner interesting, and realizing so made you sad to see them go.

Soon enough, you’re saying your goodbyes with hugs outside of the restaurant with promises to meet up again soon. Rosie gives you a lingering hug and whispers in your ear once again, out of sight and earshot from the others.

“I’m serious, Y/N, call me. I want to get to know you better.”

She pulls away and you nod, despite still not having made up your mind on whether or not you were actually going to call her. She didn’t need to know that right now. Your mind is a mess and you’re still trying to sort out exactly what happened that night. Even if you weren’t going to call her, it’s not like you’d tell her anyways. Your non-confrontational nature wouldn’t allow it.

You smile and part ways, making your way to the car, hoping your friend wouldn’t question what she saw, but deep down knowing she will. It’s stopped raining now, and all that’s left is the wet pavement reflecting the streetlights above you. You know the barrage of questions is coming, but you’re trying to savor this moment of calm before the storm.

You take a seat in the car and look over to your friend who’s already staring at you. It’s a bit of an ominous scene in the late evening, the only light coming from the minimal street lights outside your window. You stay silent. There’s no way you can really anticipate what’s going to come out of her mouth first. Your thoughts are cut short when she starts speaking into the silence.

“So, are you going to tell me what I saw in the restroom earlier, or am I going to have to pull it out of you?” she asked accusingly.

“Joy,” you responded sincerely, “can you keep a secret?”

[just-antithings]

if els mothers so damn abusive you're perfectly capable of moving out lmao

wow.

wooooow.

thats it. i genuinely believe this is the most insidious message ive ever personally received.

way to care about abuse survivors, i guess?

youre not entitled to my life story, anon, but since you asked so kindly, ill tell you.

first of all, i never implied i was even under her roof. i live there when im not at college, yes, but the tracking app incident (the second of its kind, in case you were wondering), happened just two weeks ago, while i was at school. the first incident, when it actually was installed on my phone, happened when i was a senior in high school.

second of all, i can't believe i even need to say this, but "just move out lmao" is so fucking ableist and victim-blaming it makes me sick.

my mother has control over everything i do. my job. my home life. my political affiliation. hell, im turning 21 this year and my bank account is still attached to theirs, and they can see my purchases easier than i can see them myself.

my mother regularly went through my search history and my text messages to my friends, despite giving her no reason to distrust me. i lived in constant fear as a late teen that i hadn't closed out my incognito tabs or removed tumblr and various curses from my learned words on my keyboard, and later, that she would somehow find out that i was gay and not cis.

shes homophobic, shes transphobic, shes viciously certain that she is right and everyone else is wrong, she believes that me not agreeing with her hateful thoughts is me personally silencing her in her "own home".

i had to use my cousin in another state as a lifeline last summer over quarantine, because there were more days where i was desperate to just die so she could finally just leave me the fuck alone than there were days when i wanted to keep going. i packed up what clothes i could and almost had my cousin come pick me up in the middle of the night.

but i didn't. and do you know why? because i can't. as much as she hurts me, as much as she's fucking destroyed my sense of self-worth and ability to live without constantly apologizing for my existence, as much as she spews hatred for my life and how i love right in front of my face, even though the one time i barely hinted i wasn't straight she threatened to send me to what would undoubtedly have been conversion therapy...

she controls everything. my family. my money. my phone.

if i had escaped last summer the way i wanted to, i would have lost everything.

and because, as is often the case in these situations, she is my mother, and i can't help but still love her. despite all evidence to the contrary, despite how she's proven time and time again that she will never change, i can't help but hold onto the hope that she will.

but more than anything else, anon, i feel sorry for my dad. my dad and i are alike in a lot of ways, mostly how we tend to avoid confrontation until its unavoidable. i love my dad with everything i have. i got everything from him. my love of music, my shitty eyesight with glasses thicker than a kid's picture book, my love of shitty puns, and though he's never been tested himself, i'm 95% sure i also got my adhd from him. when i was born, the doctor looked at me, then at my dad, and went "oh wow. it's little you."

my mother's mother is a fucking monster, and despite how much my mother loves her father, she can't see him because her mother has torn the family apart and refuses to talk to us.

i don't want that to be my relationship with my dad. we don't agree on things - whereas my mother is disgustingly far right, my dad, while right-leaning, is far more centralized than anything else. when i talk with him about politics, he listens to me. we are able to have discussions. and barring politics, even with something like vocaloid, which he Very Much doesn't understand why i like it so much, he willingly and happily listens to me gush excitedly about it, and i listen to him gush about his music and the wacky things he and his high school friend group he's since drifted away from used to get up to.

either of us bring that up to my mother and she shuts us down.

me leaving would not only hurt me, it would hurt my dad, and while i'm perfectly okay with hurting myself - god knows it couldn't possibly be worse than it already is - the thought of leaving my dad with her is the worst thing i could ever think of.

so, anon, how dare you assume that an escape from any abusive situation is just as simple as "moving out".

fuck you. i hope you're never in a situation you can't escape from, because i wouldn't wish that pain on anyone.

[peachy-beomie]

I’ll Be Your Light (In The Darkest Night) <KUNTEN>

Genre: Hurt/Comfort (Fluff w/ Light Angst)

Pairings: Kunten (Qian Kun x Ten Lee)

Word Count: 1,936

Warnings: Light Angst (not much but like kun gets yelled at a lot)

Synopsis: Kun is an amazing leader for wayv. He’s levelheaded, smart, observant, and he knows how to make sure the boys are taken care of. But sometimes leaders have to make tough decisions for the good of their members, even if they can’t see the benefit. OR Kun is upset and Ten is there for him.

A/N: Uh hi this is my first fanfic on tumblr!! :DD My awesome friend sophie (@chicksung) encouraged me to try posting one so here I am. Hope it’s at least an enjoyable read :))) Tell me what you think in the comments or by reblogging! Also I thought a cute little thing to do at the end of each of my kunten fics would be to include a random kunten photo, since they seem to be few and far between (@ Kun and Ten POST A SELFIE TOGETHER COWARDS). So look for that at the bottom of the post! Enjoy lovely readers!!

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29409582

“You’ve got to be kidding me!!!”

Each of the 7 boys flinched hard at their dance instructor’s exclamation, their hearts beating wildly in their chests.

“Seriously what is WRONG with you guys?? That’s the 10th time we’ve gone over that section and you STILL can’t get it right!”

“I think we’re all really tired ge,” Kun interjects, voice calm and collected as always. “Maybe we should call it a night and try again tomorrow.”

The teacher seems to grow angrier from that comment. “We are not done until each of you can do the choreography flawlessly. Go get some water and I better see you back and ready to dance in no more than 10 minutes!!” Kun can do nothing but nod and usher his members into the hall. As they step over the threshold, each boy all but collapse onto the floor, completely drained of energy and courage.

Kun sinks down the wall whilst holding in a groan of pain. The teachers had been really harsh that day, yelling at them and making them work extra hard. Kun wishes he could just go home and cuddle with his boyfriend.

As if sensing Kun’s unease, the aforementioned boyfriend sat next to him and offered him a sip of water which he gladly accepted. Ten intertwined their hands and squeezed Kun encouragingly.

“I don’t think I can take much more of this, my legs feel like Jello.” Hendery comments, breaking the silence of the room.

“I know, the staff have been really crude today,” Lucas responds, his usually wide and wondrous eyes are dulled, which isn’t lost on Kun. His stomach clenches as he looks around at his members. It’s painful seeing them so despondent. Each pair of eyes sporting large bags and shoulders all hunched and tense. The boys stare back at him with expressions so colorless it makes Kun want to cry. Winwin taps him on the shoulder suddenly.

“Kun-ge you have to tell the teacher we can’t go on, I can barely feel my legs.” Winwin’s eyes brim with tears as he speaks and Kun wants so badly to wipe them away. He grabs the back of Winwin’s head and guides it to his shoulder in comfort. Being tired as shit himself, Kun would love nothing more then to tell the teacher to let them go, but he knows he can’t. If he so much as looks at the teacher the wrong way he’ll get them all punished. It makes him feel terrible, not being able to take care of his members the way he needs to. With a heavy heart he brings the boys to their feet, offering them the most encouraging smile he can muster.

“It’s only another half an hour guys, we’ll get through this I promise.”

Needless to say the practice continues to go downhill from there.

The short break did not make the teacher any less cruel. He continues to scream, degrade, and cuss out the members. The words he spews sting each boy to the core. Kun only watches as brows crease infinitely tighter and stray tears are wiped in secret.

Kun doesn’t realize how deep in his thoughts he is until he trips over his foot sending him to the floor. His eyes remain closed as he hears the music switch off and the feeling of doom rises in his chest.

“Oh my god Kun this is RIDICULOUS!! Why can’t you guys get this?? It’s so simple!! Stop slacking and focus!!” Kun reluctantly stands up and faces the teacher with the most level expression he can.

“I’m sorry ge, I’ll do better from now on.”

“You better. It’s bad enough that I have to deal with Xiaojun’s weak form, I don’t need any more challenges today.” Kun is taken aback by the comment. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Xiaojun curl into himself almost as if trying to disappear, and it fills him with rage. Fire spreads from the tips of his fingers all the way to his toes. His hands ball into fists as he struggles to maintain his calm demeanor. He can handle the insults thrown his way, but something about this one comment set him off. Poor Xiaojun is struggling enough with his own confidence and Kun knows things like this really get to him. He doesn’t want to let this teacher continue to talk shit about the people he cares for. His members stare at him almost expectantly as he glares daggers into the back of the staffs’ heads. Checking his watch, he realizes that there’s 5 minutes left of rehearsal and reality sinks in slowly.

Kun, having been cursed with “holding the braincell” (as Hendery lovingly puts it), knows that if he goes off on the teacher it’ll only hurt his members more. God only knows what’d happen to them if the staff report them as “difficult to work with” or anything. As much as the members want him to assert their needs, they have to know that he stays silent to protect them. So he reluctantly bites his tongue and just continues to dance for 5 long, agonizing, scream-filled minutes.

⏳

The ride back to the dorms is unusually quiet. All the members seemingly too upset or too tired to speak. Ten rests his sleepy head on Kun’s shoulder in a form of comfort that’s only half effective. Kun watches as Hendery holds a shaken Xiaojun and whispers affirmations into his hair. He sees Winwin and Yangyang cuddle up to Lucas trying to get as much sleep as they can in the uncomfortable position. Knots of guilt and sadness begin to form in Kun’s stomach. He attempts to focus on Ten’s heartbeat against his side, but he’s never able to drift off.

Once they get home everything explodes.

“How could you let him do that ge?? Shit talk us like that?? You should’ve said something.” Yangyang cries out, emotional and desperate. The tears they’d all been holding in spilling over in the tense atmosphere. Kun stares back in bewilderment, unable to form a coherent response, and Yangyang is not having it.

“LOOK WHAT HE DID TO POOR XIAOJUN!! HOW COULD YOU LET HIM JUST DO THAT????”

“It’s not Kun’s responsibility to cuss out teachers baby.” Ten interjects, trying to calm the two.

“But he could’ve said something. He’s our leader, he should look out for us.” Hendery pipes up, his tone even but a slight bite lies in his words. Kun’s really trying not to cry now. He should’ve been there for them. He was so stupid to stay quiet, they neeeded him, and he’d failed them.

“I-I’m sorry,” Kun mutters. He keeps his eyes glued to the floor.

“You should be.” Yangyang spits out, before turning on his heels and stomping to his room, slamming the door closed.

“Guys, there’s no use placing blame right now. It’s really late, we should all get to bed.” Lucas shoots a small smile in Kun’s direction before shooing Hendery and Xiaojun into their room. Kun walks shakily to his own room, not bothering to get changed. He sits on his bed and buries his head in his knees, focusing on his shallow breaths.

He felt like the worst friend on the planet. His members had been suffering and all he could do was watch. Some leader, he never should’ve debuted. He’s so worthless, so stupid, so-

“Kunnie?”

Ten’s silky voice cuts through Kun’s thoughts like a knife.

“Kun can I come in?”

Kun makes no motion to look up or get the door, only letting out a noise of confirmation before he hears the doorknob turn.

“Oh darling,” And all it takes is that one pet name for Kun to shatter like glass. His body shakes with each silent sob, all the emotions from today come pouring out. Ten sits patiently, never forcing Kun or rushing him. He’s too perfect Kun thinks. I don’t deserve him follows soon after only making him sob harder. Ten’s hands find their way into Kun’s hair, massaging his scalp assuringly. Several minutes later, Kun’s breathing has evened out until only occasional sniffles remain. He looks up at his boyfriend reluctantly, finding only care and worry in his brown eyes. Ten’s expression melts into a fond smile, pressing a kiss to Kun’s temple before getting up and moving to the dresser. Kun’s gaze follows him, puzzled, until the younger boy turns back to him with pajamas and a large sweatshirt. Ten motions for Kun to lift his arms and begins undressing him. Once Kun is comfortable in his pajamas, Ten sits back down on the bed.

“Care to tell me what's going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Kun can’t help the slight heat that spreads across his cheeks. Even though they’ve been dating for 3 months now, Ten still manages to fluster Kun with ease. It’s just one of his many annoying charms.

“Nothing,” Kun lies, not convincing Ten for a second.

“Come on Kun, knowing you, I’d be more worried if you WEREN’T overthinking this,” Ten giggles melodically making Kun’s stomach flip slightly. “I’m not gonna judge you sweetheart, I swear.” Kun looks down and fidgets with his sleeves.

“It’s just…” he begins, “I feel like a shit leader. Like I wasn’t even able to protect you guys from our own staff! I just think I should’ve... done better.”

“You saying something would only make the situation worse, and we all know that.” Ten smiles lightly. “You can’t actually blame yourself for this Kun, look at me.” Ten presses his forehead against Kun’s and their gazes meet.

“You have to know they didn’t mean that,” Ten’s eyes scan Kun’s, “You didn’t do anything wrong bub, they’re just tired and upset.” Kun nods understandingly, but is obviously still uneasy. Ten quickly notices this and presses his lips to Kun’s. Their eyes flutter shut as each of them get lost in the feeling of each other. Ten’s lips work as if he’s trying to erase all traces of doubt and worry from his boyfriend’s mind. To be honest, it’s kinda working. When they break apart for air Kun can’t wipe the smile off his face. Ten, wearing an equally dopey smile, reaches up to wipe the saliva from Kun’s lips tenderly. He looks into Kun’s eyes with intent as he delivers his next statement.

“You. are. not. always. to. blame.” He boops his nose with each word for emphasis. “You did what you thought was best for the group, as any good leader does. You are so kind and considerate darling, the members love you so so much, you are the perfect leader for WayV.” Kun’s face feels like splitting from the size of the smile he’s wearing now.

“I love you so much.” Ten giggles and pecks Kun’s lips once more.

“I love you too, my handsome baby. Now get over here and sleep with me. We’ve had a long day.” And who’s Kun to refuse such an offer?

⏳

The next morning, Kun watches as Yangyang shuffles into the kitchen looking considerably more rested and also considerably more guilty. He pauses eating his breakfast to look up at the young boy.

“I’m really sorry Kun-ge, I didn’t mean to get so angry last night. And I definitely didn’t mean any of the things I said.” He genuinely admits. Kun only smiles.

“It’s ok Yangyang, I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.” Yangyang’s shoulders relax at that.

“Thank goodness. I feel really bad about it.”

“No need. All is forgiven.”

“So does this mean you’ll make me pancakes?”

“You little-”

KUNTEN PIC OF THE DAY: