#the glitter pen one looks different because

[porcelaininkpot]

Miscellaneous D.A.M.N Crew Headcannons Volume Two >:}}}

Gavin always takes an extra long time to shower because not only does he have a fifteen step self care routine, he gets distracted by his reflection and admires himself for so long he takes twenty minutes to even start.

Damien works himself so hard he loses track of time completely and can't tell the difference between night and day. Once, he started getting ready for an early morning class and was almost out the door before Huxley emerged from his room and told him it was 11pm.

This concerns Huxley to no end, so to keep him grounded he'll come up behind Damien at random times and murmur the time and day in his ear. Its developed into an affectionate habit and he does it even now despite Damien being much less harsh on himself.

Up until meeting Freelancer and the crew, Caelum had never properly written anything before in his life. He still doesn't really have any need to, but Damien insisted that knowing how to read and write was a basic skill anyone should have regardless of whether or not they actually need it. This was said while he gave Gavin the most atrocious side eye.

As a result, he taught Caelum how to write, and his handwriting is less text and more doodles, he replaces his As with stars and his Os with spirals and uses exclusively pink glitter gel pen.

Damien was once having a terrible day and in the middle of a mental breakdown realised it was the birthday of someone he hated and got so offended and mad he snapped out of it, stopped breaking down and made himself have a good day out of spite.

After Lasko left, his parents erased all traces of his existence and had another child, a girl. Their parents were so scared she'd turn out like him they put her through unimaginable restrictions and didn't let her have any freedom. Unfortunately for them, she turned out to be a water elemental. They didn't take it well. She's now currently a teenager on the run and neither her nor Lasko know that the other exists.

Being around Caelum makes Lasko remember how much he always wanted a little sister of his own.

Freelancer once tried to put their little sister up for adoption.

Huxley has shoulder length hair that he almost exclusively ties in a half up half down look.

Dear loves drawing on other people's hands.

Lasko loves having his hands drawn on, but only when it's Dear doing the drawing.

They both do it to relieve stress.

Huxley is the only person alive that makes Damien feel comfortable enough to loosen up and just exist. No stress, no worries, no thoughts, just how much he loves and how much he's loved.

Dear is scarily good at poker.

Freelancer once tried to learn tarot but the first reading they did on themselves called them out too hard and they dropped it out of spite.

To this day, Gavin thinks platypuses aren't a real animal.

Damien has actually met Avior, it was at the library and they got into an argument over who got to check out the last copy of Pride and Prejudice.

The DAMN crew once went to the beach and got super competitive at sandcastle building. Huxley and Freelancer won against Gavin and Damien while Dear sunbathed, enjoying watching them fight.

Lasko was off elsewhere trying not to lose his shit at the sight of Dear in a swimsuit.

Huxley has freckles.

Damien has dimples.

Freelancer's favourite coat once tore, and Gavin seamlessly stitched it up. It was as if the tear never happened in the first place. {He used shibari knots}

Dear has the best handwriting out of the entire crew, unfortunately their cursive is so intricate and elegant no one can read it.

All demons have markings and designs across their bodies naked to the human eye but visible under uv light, similar to scorpions, they're a reflection of the demon's soul and naturally, unique to each demon.

Gavin's marks are smoky and wispy, trailing over his long limbs to form the most ornately designed hearts. They glow a deep pink under neon light and he loves showing them off at clubs.

Caelum's markings are bubbles and clouds that float around his body and change shape. His are bright yellow and blue and he didn't know he had them until Freelancer got him an invisible ink pen with a uv flashlight attached.

Freelancer has a uv tattoo of Gavin's wispy hearts across their own sternum, curling up to one soft heart right above where their own beating heart lies.

[detective-oneshot]

niko/oneshot doodles!!

also a glitter pen one!!

[rockethorse]

Mid-Century Burst | CC-Free

A tricky little shell challenge that you can get some use out of too! Tried to dig into some 70s inspo for the exterior on this one. This is 2 bed, 1 bath, fully-furnished and CC-free. Because of the limited size of the main shell, I added a detached garage with an apartment on top, which adds +1 studio bedroom and +1 bathroom.

The TS4 shell challenge I used for this lot was called "BubbleShell3" on the gallery from the ID "bubblesisgaming". I'm also playing around with using random palette generators for room inspo, this time from ColorHunt. It's been fun and I recommend using it to get out of your comfort zone!

Download Mid-Century Burst @ SFS

[choerrypuffs]

red velvet hearts.

pairing: bad boy!donghyuck x baker!reader

genre: fluff, slight angst

word count: 7.7k

synopsis: you patch up a boy with a bloody nose and bruised knuckles, only to find out that he has quite the sweet tooth.

author’s note: why do i keep injuring hyuck in all my fics lmao??? anyways i tried to write his character a bit differently than i usually do to challenge myself so please let me know how you guys like it! also remember, ladies: this is fiction. you cannot fix him <3

warning(s): brief description of injuries, mentions of violence, maximum amounts of cringe and melodrama

playlist: all my ghosts by lizzy mcalpine ― heart eyes by coin ― close to you by gracie abrams ― sidelines by phoebe bridgers ― the alchemy by taylor swift

RECIPE 1. TIRAMISU

“This is not what I meant when I said you need your back blown out.” 

“Not funny. I almost died,” you grumble as you wrap the back brace around your torso. You hate the immediate relief you feel from the support it provides, no longer able to tell yourself that it’s really not as bad as it seems―which only makes you angrier. 

“Throwing your back out while lifting a giant bag of flour and nearly getting crushed to death by said flour is genuinely the funniest fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” Yeri, your best friend (derogatory), snorts as she shakes her head. “I wish you had cameras in the storage room because I want to see that shit so bad.”

“Thank you for the brace. You can get the hell out now.” You roll your eyes. 

“So, what are you going to do now? Aren’t you swamped with orders?” Yeri asks, ignoring you completely. 

You have no clue what you’re going to do now. It isn’t just orders you have to worry about fulfilling; it’s also the freshly baked pastries that you have to sell every morning. After a year of blood, sweat, and tears, the bakery that you built from the ground up is finally starting to gain some stable business. So, of course, you chose now of all times to try to lift a bag of flour over your shoulder like you were Dwayne The Rock Johnson. 

“I think I’ll have to hire some temporary help,” you answer begrudgingly. 

“You could sound less like someone is holding you at gunpoint,” Yeri snorts, “Come on. It had to happen sooner or later anyway.” 

“I was handling things just fine on my own.”

“Were you, though?” Yeri raises an eyebrow, gesturing to your current state. 

You fear you walked right into that one. “Shut up and help me make some posters.” 

The two of you eventually manage to whip up some haphazard “Help Wanted” posters, the letters written in glitter pen and Yeri’s clumsy bubble text. You tried your best to fill in the empty gaps on the construction paper by placing Pompompurin stickers that you normally give to customers’ kids all over it. The posters look like a nine-year-old girl’s school project gone wrong, but you hope it’s charming enough to catch some attention. 

By the time you and Yeri finish hanging up all the posters, the sun is already starting to set, and all you want to do is go home and put a heating pad on your back. After saying bye to Yeri, you start making your way back to the bakery to lock up. Once you arrive, you notice a figure dressed in black slumped over in front of the door. You can see their shoulders rise up and down as they take in labored breaths, leaning against the glass door for support. 

Every rational fiber in your being screams at you to not approach the stranger alone, but it’s not like you can just leave this person at the front of your place of business. Cautiously taking a step forward, you squat down to eye level with the stranger, wincing slightly from back pain. Through the sweaty and matted mess of his brown fringe, you can see that the stranger is a young man around your age. However, his face is absolutely battered: bloody (and almost certainly broken) nose, split lip, black eye swollen shut, and a jagged cut on his cheek. If he notices your presence, he doesn’t show it, keeping his head hung down.

Gingerly placing a hand on his arm, you give him a small shake. “Excuse me? Are you okay? Do you need me to call an ambulance?” 

His brows furrow, and he opens an eye (the only one he’s probably able to open) with a wince before lifting a finger and putting it against his lips. You notice that his knuckles are completely scraped raw. 

“Not so loud. I’m okay,” he answers. 

“You don’t look―” 

As if on cue, his stomach rumbles with a guttural growl that slowly drawls into a sputtering gurgle before dying out all together―leaving a long silence to hang between the two of you.

After another beat, he gives you a sheepish smile. “You got anything to eat?” 

You stare at him for a moment; his face is flushed, pink all the way down to his neck. 

And like a stupid horror movie character who opens the door to a room that clearly screams danger, you nod. 

.

.

.

Fortunately, he―Donghyuck, as he introduced himself―ends up not being a crazy ax murderer. 

Unfortunately, you find yourself awkwardly sitting in your closed bakery with a virtual stranger, fiddling with a first aid kit while watching him absolutely devour a piece of leftover tiramisu that you had in your fridge. If the situation wasn’t so insane, you might actually think it was pretty funny. For someone who looks the way he does, this current picture of Donghyuck absolutely doesn’t suit him―bruised chipmunk cheeks stuffed with ladyfingers and cocoa powder stuck on his split lip. 

When he’s finished, Donghyuck looks over at you with a mesmerized expression on his face, as if you just fed him ambrosia. There’s a softness to his face that you didn’t think could exist underneath all that grime and dried blood. 

“That was…delicious,” he breathes. 

“Thanks,” you snort, pushing a glass of water towards him. Unsurprisingly, he chugs it in the blink of an eye. “I still think you should get those injuries checked out, though.” 

“Nah, I’ll rub a little spit in them and it’ll be fine,” he shrugs. 

“Don’t be gross,” you sigh, scooting your chair closer to him as you set the first aid kit on the table. “Now, come here.” 

Donghyuck reluctantly dips his head, and you carefully cup his jaw for support, disinfecting and applying ointment on the cuts and scrapes on his face. You also clean up the dried blood near his nostrils and on his bottom lip, and he doesn’t flinch even when you accidentally brush tender areas like his broken nose or the gash on his mouth. Instead, he stays perfectly still, leaned back in the chair with his forearms resting on his thighs and fingers nonchalantly laced together. 

He keeps his gaze trained on something past your shoulder, and you also try your best to focus, but it’s hard to keep yourself from staring―especially when his demeanor has changed so much. He’s so calm and quiet in such a cold, ruthless manner, as if he’s physically steeling himself from pain―like he’s done this a million times before. Occasionally, you feel his eyes swipe across your face when he thinks you’re not paying attention, and it occurs to you how close the two of you are. Suddenly, you’re acutely aware of the heat of his skin against your palm and fingertips, and you rip your hand away from his jaw. 

Clearing your throat, you move onto his hands, dabbing his raw knuckles with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol before placing large band-aids on them. Despite your best efforts, it’s hard not to notice how slim his long fingers are or how surprisingly clean his nail beds are for someone who’s covered in blood. You keep your head completely bent, fighting the urge of looking up and possibly meeting his eyes. 

“There, all done,” you announce a little too loudly. 

“Thank you,” he says softly, “for the cake and for this. For helping me.” 

“Don’t worry about it. I didn’t do much,” you blurt, still avoiding eye contact as you clean up the table. However, you notice in your peripheral that his gaze follows your movements, almost hesitantly, before he asks: 

“So, you’re hiring?” 

You click the first-aid kit shut, blinking a few times before turning back to him. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, waiting for an answer.

“I―yeah. How did you know that?” you ask, puzzled by such a random question. 

Donghyuck points at a poster that you didn’t even know you left here, sitting on the table right behind you. You realize that he was probably looking at it while you were patching him up. 

“That poster that says ‘help wanted.’ With the Pompompurin stickers. I’m actually in between jobs right now, so if you would have me―”

“You know Pompompurin?” you interrupt him. It’s not that important and should not stand out to you as much as it does. Yet, you can’t help but grin at the fact that someone like him knows about a tubby Golden Retriever character with a name that sounds like a mashup of the English language’s most adorable onomatopeias. 

Donghyuck trails off, stiffening as if you just found out his deepest, darkest secret. He opens his mouth slightly, trying to speak but unable to formulate a response―an excuse, rather. Instead, he just lets out an airy cough, putting a hand over his mouth and turning away from you in an attempt to obscure his face. Despite his best efforts, he can’t hide his glowing red ears and the way his earlier coldness melts away.

“I―yeah,” he responds, words slightly muffled by his hand. 

You struggle to maintain your composure as you gnaw on your bottom lip to keep from laughing. Fighting a smile in your voice, you finally say: 

“The pay won’t be that much, but you’ll get a bunch of free desserts at the end of the day. Are you okay with that?” 

It takes him a moment to process that you’re offering him the job, and you watch his eyes light up and a warm smile overtake his face. There’s still a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks, clashing with the purple bruising and swelling of his injuries. 

“I’d love nothing more.”

Suddenly, it occurs to you that Donghyuck somewhat reminds you of a tiramisu. 

He may look a bit rugged and grimey, bitter like coffee, but in actuality, underneath it all, he’s soft and fluffy (but not too sweet) like a mascarpone filling. 

RECIPE 2. BLUEBERRY PIE

“Are you out of your mind?”

You cringe away from your phone, hurriedly turning the volume down. “Damn, you don’t have to scream like that.” 

“You should be the one screaming,” Yeri hollers. “I better not come over one day and find your body stuffed in the freezer or something.”

“I thought you wanted me to hire someone!” 

“Not some random dude off the side of the street who was covered in injuries and doesn’t even have any baking experience,” Yeri hisses. 

“I don’t need him to bake. I just have him working the front counter and doing all the heavy lifting when I get my ingredient shipments,” you protest. “Did you think I would really just hand over all my orders to some random dude and go party it up in Cancún or something?” 

Yeri is silent for several seconds before asking, “He’s hot, isn’t he?”

“What?”

“So you did know what I meant when I said you needed your back blown out.” You can hear the smugness in her voice. 

“Yeri,” you say tiredly, “please be serious.”

“I am serious. You’re the one being unserious,” she retorts. “Yesterday, you acted like you would rather sacrifice your firstborn child before hiring a part-timer, and now look at you. Dickmatized.” 

“Okay, I’m hanging up now.”

“So, when do I get to meet him―”

You quickly hit the button to end the call and shove your phone into your pocket, letting out an exasperated sigh. You definitely won’t be hearing the end of that for a while. Your face feels warm for some reason, and you decide that you need a coffee break. After you finish making it, you pour yourself and Donghyuck a cup. 

You peek your head out from the curtain that separates the kitchen and the front counter to see if Donghyuck is busy. He’s politely chatting with an elderly woman, and your eyes nearly pop out of your head when he takes out the entire tray of egg tarts in the glass display and wraps it up for her. The woman happily hands him a wad of bills and waves him goodbye. After putting the cash in the register, Donghyuck turns around and catches you in the middle of gawking. 

“Oh, Y/N. I was actually just about to head back there. We’re out of egg tarts for the display,” he says nonchalantly. 

“Uh, yeah, I can see that,” you whisper loudly, “Was that Mrs. Kim? Why the hell did she order a dozen egg tarts? That woman can barely finish a single cookie.” 

Donghyuck blinks, clearly confused, whispering back, “She asked for my recommendation, so I said egg tarts since no one had bought any yet, and she said she would take all of them.” 

You pause, things finally clicking. Grinning knowingly, you say, “You know, having you work the front is doing wonders for sales.” 

“I don’t understand.” He furrows his brows. 

You laugh, handing him his cup of coffee. “I’m talking about your face card, Donghyuck. You’re too handsome, so you’re flustering the customers.” 

“Are we not whispering anymore?” he asks awkwardly. “Besides, that’s not true. Look at the state of my face right now.” 

His injuries have faded significantly, but the bruising and cuts are still there. You want to tell him that superficial wounds can’t mask the warmth in his caramel-brown eyes, the fullness of his cheeks and the sharp jawline, and the air of mystery that enshrouds him and draws people in. 

But you don’t. 

“Well, for someone who’s only been working here for two weeks, you’re doing superb. Injuries or not.” 

And it’s true. You’ve always preferred to work alone because you’re the only one who understands how you want things done. You naturally assumed it would be a hassle and a waste of time to try to explain to someone else when you could just do it yourself, but Donghyuck never seems to need an explanation. In fact, he knows before even you. 

He gets to the bakery three hours before you, cleans and preps all the equipment you need for the day, unloads the ingredient shipments, and is already manning the front counter by the time you arrive like it was no big deal at all. He also seems to have a sixth sense of knowing when you’re about to do something you shouldn’t be, even though you downplayed your back injury. He’s somehow always there―moving all the stuff you keep on the top shelf to somewhere within your reach even though you insisted that the rickety wooden step stool you use is perfectly safe, cleaning up a glass beaker that you accidentally shattered, taking out the trash during his breaks, checking in on you when you skip lunch. He even turned down his first paycheck, saying it’s repayment for patching him up and feeding him. 

Donghyuck is so perfect that sometimes you wonder if you’re being set up, like maybe he’s secretly embezzling money from the cash register―which would be a more viable theory if he didn’t drive an Audi to work everyday. 

“Thanks for the compliment. And the coffee,” Donghyuck says, snapping you out of your thoughts. He gingerly takes a sip and makes a strangled noise, a mixture being choking and retching, before slapping a hand over his mouth. 

“Are you okay? Was it too hot?” you ask worriedly. 

“No, it’s just…really bitter,” he mumbles, words muffled in his hand. 

“Oh,” you blink, “Sorry. I drink black coffee, so I forgot to ask if you wanted creamer and sugar. Come on, there’s some in the back.” 

The two of you head to the kitchen, and you watch him dump an exorbitant amount of creamer and sugar in his coffee, the dark roast swirling into something more akin to milk tea.

“You know, there might be some chocolate milk in the fridge if you’d rather that,” you tease. 

His head shoots up, those doe eyes lighting up. “Really?” 

“No,” you trail off awkwardly, “Sorry, I'm just messing with you.” 

It’s a bit adorable that you can visibly see him being disappointed in there not being chocolate milk before growing embarrassed, looking down at his cup. He turns away from you, but you can see the flush on the back of his neck. 

“You really have a sweet tooth, huh?” you laugh. 

“Pretty lame, right?” 

“Why would that be lame? You’re talking to someone who owns a bakery, in case you forgot.” 

Donghyuck smiles at you, and it’s sugary sweet like buttercream frosting. He looks at you like you just said the most wonderful thing in the world; in fact, he always makes you feel like that, no matter what you say or do. “I guess you’re right.” 

“What’s your favorite dessert?” you blurt, needing a distraction urgently. 

He pauses briefly. “I don’t think I have one.”

That actually surprises you. “You don’t? Even though you love sweets so much?” 

He laughs, the sound harsh and rough, and it almost makes you flinch. “I’ve never really had an opportunity to have many until now.” 

There’s clearly weight behind his words, but you know you’re not in a position to ask any further. A selfish part of you wants to be important enough to him that you are in a position to know more, but you’re all too aware about him very purposefully keeping you at arm’s length. 

“Well, you have plenty of time to find out,” you quickly continue, pretending not to notice. “Actually, I’m going to a blueberry farm tomorrow because I’m thinking about adding blueberry pie to the menu. When I get back, I’ll bake one for you, and you can be the first to taste test it!” 

“You’re going by yourself?” Donghyuck raises an eyebrow. 

“Of course. Who else would I go with?” 

“Me. I’ll go with you,” he replies immediately. 

“But it’s, like, a forty-five-minute bus ride to the farm. Plus, coming with me to get ingredients isn’t part of your job description anyway,” you explain. 

“I can’t come with you on my own free time?” he asks, tilting his head. “Besides, I’m worried about you overexerting yourself with that back injury. A bumpy bus ride definitely isn’t going to help, so I’ll drive us there.” 

“You’re going to drive that fancy ass car to a farm? You do realize it’s going to be dirt roads, right?” You cross your arms. 

“I think I’ll live. Besides, what makes you think this is the only fancy ass car I own?” He gives you an amused smile. 

“You’re joking, right?” You stare at him. 

He hesitates for a moment. “Yes.” 

“That doesn’t sound―”

“What time are we leaving tomorrow morning?” 

“...Seven.”

.

.

.

Unsurprisingly, Donghyuck picks you up right on time, not a minute too early or late. As the universe would have it, it rained the night prior―meaning all the dirt roads are now rivers of mud. You wince every time you heard a splat of mud hit Donghyuck’s pristine white car, but he seems to pay no mind to it. The two of you arrive at the farm within twenty minutes (he found a shortcut), and because you came so early, you get the entire farm to yourselves. The staff arms both of you with a large wicker basket each before setting you loose onto the massive property. 

“Okay, make sure to pick the fat ones. The small ones are super tart, so avoid those,” you instruct Donghyuck. “We’re going to fill these baskets to the brim and get our money’s worth.” 

“You got it, Captain.” He salutes. 

You give him a determined nod and a thumbs up before turning to your respective side and beginning to pick the blueberries. The two of you work without much fanfare or conversation, and it’s a silence that lingers between you comfortably. It reassures you to hear the sound of the bushes rustling from Donghyuck working; his companionship alone relaxes you. 

Eventually, when the sun starts peeking through and the weather grows warmer, both of you decide to take a break. You find a spot in the shade before sitting down, pulling out snacks and bottles of water from a backpack Donghyuck brought along. 

“I have a surprise for you,” you tell him, trying to hide a smile. “Close your eyes.” 

He eyes you suspiciously but does so anyway. You fish out a handful of unripe blueberries wrapped in a handkerchief from your pocket and feed some to him. His reaction is nearly instant the moment he starts chewing them; you watch as his face puckers up from how sour they are and his entire body shrivels into itself, a shudder running through him. He’s polite enough to not spit them out, but you’re not polite enough to resist pointing and laughing at him. Throwing your head back, you laugh so hard that your stomach starts to hurt. 

“Oh my God, your face!” 

“Ugh,” Donghyuck groans, taking a big gulp of his water. “I should’ve known you had sinister intentions from the start.” 

“I didn’t think you’d react like that,” you finally manage to say after catching your breath. “You really can’t handle anything except for sweet stuff.” 

“Are you having fun bullying me?” He rolls his eyes. 

“So much fun,” you say in a sing-song voice. 

Donghyuck tries to continue feigning annoyance, but he can’t help the low chuckle that rumbles in his chest. His eyes always soften when he looks at you, and his gaze is intimate like a lover’s―gentle, tender, unwavering, and vulnerable. But his warmth is always fleeting, and he only allows you glimpses of it through the unmoving walls that he’s erected around himself. 

You wish he wouldn’t indulge you so, terrified you’ll try to cross the line he’s drawn between the two of you. 

“What are you thinking about?” Donghyuck asks, trying to read your expression

“About the delicious pie I’m about to make when we get back,” you smile. 

“I see,” he responds, though it’s clear he isn’t convinced. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“You better be. This is how I’m paying you back for driving me here,” you nod. 

“Instead of that, pay me back by telling me what your favorite dessert is,” he suddenly says. “I do still want the pie, though.” 

“That was random,” you snort. “Why do you want to know my favorite dessert?”

“Because you asked me, but you never told me yours.” 

You suppose he has a point, but you find it ironic that he wants to know more about you when he refuses to offer you even a modicum of information about himself. Despite this, you tell him anyway because you are obviously the fool here. 

“If you must know, it’s red velvet cake,” you sigh. 

“Why?” 

You don’t answer at first, carefully thinking about if you’re ready to be vulnerable in front of him―still a virtual stranger. A virtual stranger who loves sweets. A virtual stranger who is a bit of a messy eater. A virtual stranger who knows Pompompurin. A virtual stranger who worries about you even when he’s not on the clock. A virtual stranger who gently tells you to be careful whenever you try to do something dangerous, whispering, “I’ll do it instead.” A virtual stranger who allows his luxury car to be caked in mud for you. 

“Because it’s the dessert that made me realize I want to do this for the rest of my life,” you finally say. “I baked it for my mom’s birthday, and I think I ended up being more excited than her.” 

Donghyuck stays quiet, gauging your reaction. 

“I was in college, studying to be a doctor like everyone else in my family. So, like a dumb young person who thought that dreams were more important than money, I dropped out of college and went to culinary school. My parents told me I was ruining mine and their lives, disowned me, yada-yada―a bunch of depressing stuff, you know. Eventually, I graduated, took out a huge loan, and opened up my own bakery. Worked a bunch of part-time jobs until my business could stand on its own. Now here I am. Still in debt, though,” you laugh awkwardly. “But I’m not doing too shabby. I was able to hire you, so at least I have a little cash to spare.” 

He still doesn’t say anything, so you find yourself starting to ramble. You’re really not sure what possessed you to trauma dump on him like that. 

“You know, a lot of people talk shit about red velvet cake because they say the only thing that makes it special is the red food coloring,” you hurriedly explain, “but that’s not true. The cream cheese frosting is super important too. Also, I always say love is the most important ingredient of all. As a baker, you’re kind of baring your heart to the customer, and isn’t it kind of cute that red velvet cake is red like a heart? Okay, please say something now or else I think I’m going to projectile vomit.” 

Donghyuck reaches over and brushes a sweaty lock of hair out of your face. His fingers brush over your temple, which makes you sharply suck in a breath. You almost lean into his touch, but you catch yourself. His hand slightly lingers on the side of your neck, like he wants to bring your face closer, but he eventually pulls away. 

He searches your face, and you’re not sure what he’s looking for―if anything. Rather, perhaps he’s not searching. Perhaps he’s committing your features to his memory, as if the way you look right now is something he wants to remember forever. 

“You’ve worked hard, Y/N,” he says softly, voice slightly hoarse. “This is long overdue, but congratulations. You achieved your dream, and don’t let anyone ever discount that. Not even yourself.” 

You wonder how long you’ve waited to hear that. You’re not even sure you knew you needed to hear that. But when Donghyuck says it, it hits you just how long and hard you’ve worked all on your own without a single break. Throughout the years, you’ve really only ever heard, “I’m sorry that happened.” When was the last time someone congratulated you? When was the last time you congratulated yourself? 

You surge forward, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and burying your face in his shoulder. Donghyuck cradles you against him, one hand wound tightly around your waist while the other is tangled in your hair. You can feel his chest rise up and down as he holds you. He smells like lavender soap and a bit earthy from being outside, and the warmth of his skin against your cheek makes you want to close your eyes and fall asleep in his arms. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

“No, thank you,” he murmurs into your hair. 

You’re not sure why he’s thanking you instead, but what you are sure of is that you’re crossing the line, taking a step towards him and wondering if he’ll meet you halfway. 

.

.

.

“Tada!” you announce cheerfully, setting down the freshly baked blueberry pie onto the table. 

Donghyuck claps excitedly. “Holy shit, it looks amazing.” 

“I’m still trying to figure out the right portions for the filling, so let me know if you think there’s too much or little,” you tell him as you hand him a slice. 

Without even answering you, he stabs his fork into the pie and almost eats the entire slice in one bite, seemingly unbothered by the steam still rising from it. 

“Be careful. You’re going to burn your tastebuds off. I’m not letting you eat it for shits and giggles, you know. This is for research purposes.” You cross your arms. 

“It’s perfect, Y/N. I’m serious,” Donghyuck says after swallowing. “The filling isn’t too sweet, and the crust is airy and light.” 

“Well, alright, Gordon Ramsay. I think we’re going to be adding a new menu item then,” you smile. “Think you can get Mrs. Kim to buy a dozen of these?”

“I don’t think she’ll need much convincing with how good these taste.” 

“You’re so easy,” you tease. “All I need to do is feed you. Anyways, I’m going to clean up here, but you should head home. It’s getting late, and you wake up way earlier than me.” 

“I’ll help,” he insists. 

“Go,” you order, pointing at the door. “I can handle it.” 

He looks conflicted but eventually relents when you threaten to physically kick him out. Before he leaves, he turns back to you and says, “Thank you, Y/N.”

“Why do you keep thanking me?” you laugh. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had this.”

“What? A blueberry pie?”

Donghyuck pauses, a slight wonder in his expression, as if he’s realizing his answer for the first time as well.

“Peace.” 

And you think maybe this is a step forward for him too. 

RECIPE 3. CREAM PUFF

It’s quite surreal how easily and naturally you and Donghyuck fall into a routine together. Somehow, in the blink of an eye, two weeks becomes two months. You’ve learned the little things about him, like how he always swipes some icing before you can fill up the piping bag or that he’s not a coffee drinker at all (more of a hot cocoa person) or that he purses his lips when a dessert he’s testing tastes off (no matter how hard he tries to hide it) or that he involuntarily sticks his arm out in front of you when he wants to stop you from doing something you shouldn’t. 

You also notice that he sometimes comes into work with injuries. They’re not nearly as bad as the first time you met him, but it’s hard to ignore a bruised cheek or bloodied knuckles. He always has a reason for them, whether it’s tripping down the stairs or accidentally falling down and scraping his hands on the concrete. You can tell by the way he laughs it off that he doesn’t plan on telling you the truth, so you laugh with him. The two of you, having taken only a step towards one another, find yourselves completely immobile now. 

He always does this: envelops you like a cloud but disappears the moment you reach out for him. 

You’re honestly not sure why he’s still here. Your injury has long healed, and he clearly doesn’t need the abysmal pay you’re giving him. He feels like he’ll slip away at any moment, fleeting like a warm spring breeze, and you suppose time flies by when you know it’s limited. Despite knowing that, you can’t help but desperately want him to stay. 

“I think it’s cute how hard he’s working,” Yeri randomly says one day as she eyes Donghyuck prepare orders in the front. He’s in the middle of a lunchtime rush, so he doesn’t even notice the two of you watching him like weirdos.

“Well, that’s what I’m paying him to do,” you reply, rolling his eyes. 

“Oh, I think the money is the least of his worries here,” she hums, taking a sip of her coffee. 

She has a point, but you’re pretty sure she’s implying something else as well. Just as you go to ask her what exactly she means, you hear a loud clatter. Flinching, you turn your attention back to Donghyuck and realize that he’s dropped a tray on the floor. However, the tray is the last thing on your mind when you see the expression on his face. It’s a mixture of horror, anger, and almost sadness―like he’s finally come face-to-face with whatever he’s been running from. It makes your blood run cold. 

Donghyuck is looking at a boy around his age; the boy has dark hair, a mole under his eye, and a grim expression. More importantly, he’s covered in injuries too. 

“Who is that?” Yeri whispers. “Why does Donghyuck look like he’s seen a ghost?” 

Maybe because he has, you want to tell her. 

Donghyuck grabs the boy's arm, squeezing so tightly that his knuckles turn white, and mumbles something to him. When he turns around and meets your eyes, he looks pained and fearful as if you witnessed something you shouldn’t have.

“Is it okay if I take my break early today?” he asks calmly, though the tremor in his voice gives him away. 

You nod hesitantly, unable to force yourself to speak. You watch him as he drags the boy out; when he passes you, you can tell how tightly his body is wound right now. His jaw is clenched, a muscle spasming as he tries to control himself, and every step he takes seems labored. He’s running on pure adrenaline right now, like he’s physically steeling himself. 

However, you don’t think he’s ever appeared so incredibly alone before. As you watch his back disappear further and further from your view, you’re unsure if he’ll ever return, and you never imagined how terrifying that would be. 

.

.

.

The cream puffs aren’t rising.

You’re crouched in front of the oven, watching the dough remain flat and lifeless. You should’ve known better than to attempt to make cream puffs on such a shitty day, especially when pastries like these are so sensitive to the environment and atmosphere. Even though you know you should probably just scrap them and try again, you wait for just a little longer, hoping that maybe if you wish hard enough that they’ll magically start to rise. 

But then again you suppose that no matter how hard you try, no matter how careful you are, no matter how perfect the batter is, no matter how much time you spend time piping them, no matter how much you want them to rise, they won’t. 

You decide that Donghyuck isn’t like a tiramisu at all; he’s sensitive and delicate and elusive and frustrating like a cream puff. 

“Y/N, they’re burning.” 

Losing your balance and nearly falling over, you gasp loudly. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t even hear Donghyuck walk into the kitchen, nor did you smell the undeniable scent of something being burnt to a crisp. 

“Oh, fu―!” you curse, hurriedly opening the oven and casually suffocating both you and Donghyuck with a hot plume of air. Sputtering, you look around and grab a random rag from the sink before reaching for the cream puffs. 

“Wait, stop!” Donghyuck stops you with an outstretched arm, his hand pressed to your side. “Let me do it.” 

He gently takes the rag from your hand and removes the tray of charred cream puffs from the oven, dumping them into the trash before putting the tray in the sink and running some water on it―just how you like it. 

Letting out a relieved sigh, he turns back to you and asks, “Are you okay? It’s not like you to make a mistake like that. You didn’t get burned anywhere, did you?” 

When you don’t answer immediately, Donghyuck rushes forward and grabs your hands, carefully examining your fingers and arms. “Wait, are you hurt? Where? Tell me where you got burned. We have to cool it down with some lukewarm water. And don’t just say you’re fine. Burns are not a joke, Y/N―why are you looking at me like that?” 

His hands are calloused and rough, and you can still see scabs from where he tore his knuckles, yet he touches you like you’re the delicate one. He’s covered in fresh and old wounds, yet he looks so panicked at the thought of you having a scratch. 

“Shut up,” you whisper furiously, ripping your hands away from him. “From now on, don’t ask me another question. It’s my turn to ask you questions.” 

He blinks, a bit stunned by your reaction, but it’s clear he knows what you’re about to say. He goes to reach for you again but decides against it. “Okay.” 

“Who was that guy?” you demand. “Why are you always covered in injuries? Why did you lie to me? Who are you?” 

“He’s an old friend,” Donghyuck starts quietly. 

“Do you treat all your friends like that?” 

“When I don’t want to see them.” 

You wait for him to continue.

“Before I met you, he and I and a few of our other friends worked…odd jobs for cash,” he explains, and he looks like he’s choking on every word. “The jobs usually entailed us hurting people and also getting hurt. I did a lot of shit I wasn’t proud of. At the time, I didn’t really care. It was just nice to feel something, whether it was the adrenaline rush from doing the punching or the pain from being punched. I got a bunch of money, bought a bunch of expensive stuff, but none of it mattered. Eventually, I just felt nothing again. I didn’t even have the energy to loathe myself anymore. So, I took one last job, got the shit kicked out of me, and then I left. That’s when you found me―”

He inhales, and his eyes flicker towards you. He gazes at you so longingly, as if you were impossibly out of his reach, that you can’t help but involuntarily take a step towards him. 

But he steps back. 

“I thought that working here would make me feel like a human being again, but I didn’t realize how much I would―” He pauses again. “I thought working here would be a nice reset for me, but I naively thought that I could completely leave my past behind. My friends eventually found me, and I guess I care about those reckless assholes more than I thought because they managed to convince me to take on a few more jobs with them. That’s why I’ve been coming to work with injuries. But I’m done. I cut them off for good when they walked into this bakery. I don’t want…I don’t want our past to tarnish this place. I want to keep this place a beautiful, warm, and pure safe haven that you worked so hard for it to be. That’s why I lied to you, Y/N. I’m a coward to the bone, and I was envious of you. I was ashamed to admit it to you. You, who had the courage to chase after your dream. You, who had the kindness to help a good-for-nothing asshole like me. I only want you to have happy memories from now on, and I am not one of them.” 

“Are you going to leave?” you ask softly. 

“I probably should,” he answers shakily. 

“What’s stopping you?” 

“Just…one reason.” 

“When you say it like that, it makes it sound like the reason is me.” 

Donghyuck laughs bitterly, and his eyes drag across your face like every movement hurts him.

“You know it’s you. It’s always been you.” 

When you reach for his hand, he turns away like just the warmth from your body heat burns him. So instead, you take a step back. 

“I won’t ask you to stay, Donghyuck, I won’t chase you. I’m going to wait right here, and it’s up to you if you're going to meet me halfway.” 

RECIPE 4. RED VELVET CAKE

When your alarm clock goes off the next morning, you seriously consider just not showing up to work. It’s not like you can be fired for being a no-show when you’re your own boss, after all. 

And it’s not like you have any employees who will be expecting you. 

You’ll just apologize to Mrs. Kim and your other regulars later. You’re allowed to have a day where you just rot in bed and feel sorry for yourself. 

However, no matter how much you tell yourself that, you find yourself crawling out of bed and getting ready anyway. You can’t seem to brutally crush that small glimmer of hope that Donghyuck might still be there, no matter how hard you try. When you see yourself in the mirror, you recoil in horror. Your eyes are almost swollen shut from the amount of crying you did last night, and your face is sallow and lifeless. 

So much for putting on a brave face, you think wryly to yourself. You tried so hard to look tough, when in reality, you bawled your eyes out and even considered praying to God for Donghyuck to stay. It’s a humiliating and humbling reality check. 

“Stand up right now,” you sharply tell yourself in the mirror. “He’s just some guy. Get it together.” 

You do your best to clean up your appearance and make the trek over to the bakery. It takes another internal pep talk before you can make your way to the door. After you finally walk up, you see that the lights inside are off. Your stomach sinks, and your eyes start to burn. Even though you’re holding the handle, you can’t bring yourself to open the door. It’s an outcome that you expected, yet you wonder why it hurts so badly. 

“You liar,” you mumble to yourself, “You said you only wanted me to have happy memories.” 

Once you make your way inside, you numbly head towards the kitchen, trying to remember what exactly you have to do today. Oh right, now that he’s not here, you also have to make sure all the ingredients are prepped first. 

When you walk into the kitchen, you do a double-take. 

The whole place looks like it’s been completely ransacked: used pans and utensils piled up in the sink, two opened boxes of cake mix, containers of ingredients without lids on on the tables, random lumps of flour and egg shells strewn about― 

And right in front of the oven is Donghyuck, flour in his hair and frosting on his nose. He’s holding a cake stand with…you think it’s supposed to be a cake on it? The shape is mangled and haphazardly cut, but it has echoes of a heart. The frosting is a hot mess, as if a bird with diarrhea shat all over the cake. The batter is clearly underbaked and makes the cake look gooey in a bad way. 

“Um, I promise I’ll clean all of this up in a second, but I wanted to surprise you,” Donghyuck starts awkwardly. “It’s not perfect, but I tried making a red velvet cake for you.” 

You stare at him, still not sure how to react. 

“You once said that baking is like baring your heart to the customer and that love is the most important ingredient of all,” he laughs softly to himself. “I think love is the only ingredient I managed to get right, but I’m baring my heart to you now, Y/N. I’m sorry I hid everything and lied to you, but I’m in love with you. Hopelessly so. All my life, I’ve chased a feeling, not knowing what it was. But now I do. I don’t think I knew how to feel until I met you. I never once thought I would ever have a purpose in my life, but you make me want to be a normal, proper member of society. Your dream is my dream. I want to wake up at 5AM and sell egg tarts with you for the rest of my life, if you’ll have me.” 

Donghyuck sets the cake down on a table in front of you, and you notice that his fingers are dyed red from the food coloring. It almost reminds you of when you first met him, except his injuries have been replaced with red food coloring, flour, and cream cheese frosting. 

“This cake is terrible,” you smile, “how did you butcher it that badly when you used cake mix?” 

You watch him blush all the way down to his neck, as he sheepishly looks away. “Don’t make fun of me. I really tried my best. I stayed up watching tutorials―” 

Leaning across the table, you cup his face with both hands and kiss him, brushing your thumbs across his cheekbones. He tastes like frosting, hot cocoa, and your prayers being answered. The way he kisses you back is bruising, dizzying and knocking any coherent thought out of your head, his hands finding your hips and anchoring you to him. He kisses you like you’re the sweetest and most wonderful thing he’s ever tasted.

When you finally pull away, it takes you a moment to regain feeling in your legs. Donghyuck presses his forehead against yours, lips brushing against yours once again as the two of you try to catch your breath. 

“I think I’m going to have to fire you, though,” you whisper. “You know, with me being your boss and all. The power dynamic is too weird.” 

He hums, pausing for thought. “Then how about I become your business partner?” 

“What?”

Donghyuck reaches into his pocket and fishes out his wallet, pulling out a shiny and fancy-looking credit card. He hands it to you without much fanfare. 

“I have a lot of money, you know. So I’m going to invest in your business. Use it as you’d like,” he casually announces.

You stare at him, your jaw hanging wide open. He never tried to hide from you that he was rich, but he never told you that he was rich rich. 

“Well, damn! Why didn’t you show me this earlier? I would have forgiven you a lot sooner,” you tease, slapping him on the arm. “Are you sure you want to give this to me? I’m quite the gold-digger, you know.”

“When I told you to use it as you’d like, I meant me as well,” Donghyuck replies, shrugging.

“You’re insane.” You hope he can’t tell how much your face is burning up. 

“I guess I am,” he laughs, and you don’t think he’s ever looked so free. You want to tell him that you hope he only has happy memories from now on too. You want to tell him that you’ll rewrite all of his scars with sugary and fluffy desserts so that they won’t ever hurt again. 

And for the first time in your life, you feel it too.

Peace. 

EXTRA

“So, have you figured out what your favorite dessert is?” 

Donghyuck stirs slightly, groaning, as he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer. He slips his hand under your shirt (well, technically it’s his shirt) and rests it on your bare hip bone. 

“Why aren’t you asleep?” 

“Because I’m curious.” 

“If I answer, will you let me rest?”

“Depends on how good your answer is.” 

“Blueberry pie. That’s my answer.” 

You smile against the crook of his neck. 

“Why?” 

“Because it’s the dessert that made me realize I want to do this for the rest of my life.” 

[mellowwillowy]

𝐓𝐖𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐀𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

Feat: Riddle, Leona, Azul, Kalim, Vil, Idia, Lilia Bonus: Floyd, Jade, Jamil, Rook, Epel, Malleus

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle’s face was almost as red as his hair, not out of anger but rather…

[Oh my gooodddd, stomp those tiny feet again, Riddle! Give me that pout~]

Really… should he do it again? Out of nowhere? Well, let’s take a walk to where you clicked then…

[Yaahhh!! So cuteeee!!!]

Well at least you didn’t think him badly for being angry out of nowhere… whoops, he wasn’t supposed to idle like that.

Ahh, why are you moving on to another character? Cater? That good for nothing? The naughty ADeuce duo? He's almost turning from red to green in envy!

Leona Kingscholar

Leona was supposed to be ticked to the brim but definitely not with you. His ears are red from your nonstop rambling while you keep on poking his avatar right on his ear.

[I wonder how it feels like to play with his ears, ah, maybe I should help you clean it too?]

Don’t. Twitch. Ears. Else the player might notice this and question this one new idle.

[Thinking back, I kinda wanna try stepping on his tail like Yuu too~]

Don’t. Swish. Tail. What? Is he a masochist or what? Well, if it’s for you then he wouldn’t mind it.

Wait wait, why are you checking out Ruggie and Jack now? Hey, what do you mean Ruggie has cuter ears and Jack has a fluffier tail? Why do they look so proud? Are they asking to be minced?

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul might break out of the avatar restraint now. You’ve been talking about how you want to squeeze the kid him, round and plump, you quoted.

Why did you find his past appearance adorable?

[Honestly, I kinda want to lift him and his hiding spot and boil him as a takoyaki filling]

Now that made Floyd and Jade snickered. Azul was internally panicking but his avatar did not show him breaking a single sweat.

[Or maybe gather all his ink whenever he cries]

For your pen?

[But I do think squeezing his plump octomer form is the best~ Oh well, he had lost all those baby fats]

And back to how you ramble about his round self again. This was supposed to be disheartening but why was he blushing?

Wait wait, don't look away from him, no! Why are you going to Floyd? And Jade too? He knew Floyd won your heart but allow him to worm into your heart at the very least. Please let one of his three hearts rest in you!

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim was nodding non-stop at your ramblings, or should he say, wishes. He was really happy that you were taking him as your magic lamp!

[And then, I want you to lace my body with lots of glitters, made of gold!]

No hard task, he just had to grind all that gold into some sort of fairy dust for you!

[Oh! And I want to try swimming in a pool of golden coins like Uncle Scrooge! I wonder if it'll hurt and uncomfortable as I think...]

He was in the same boat with you. You'd have to be careful when diving into the pool! But you can try sleeping on it though you should be careful, just in case the coins swallow you whole!

[And a carpet ride every night~]

Roger that! Tell him more of your wish, will you?

Eh? Why do you stop wishing? No! He will guarantee you that he will make it all come true! Please do not doubt him! Ah... it's because you two are in a different dimension? Screw this barrier that separates you two then.

Vil Schoenheit

Yes, he knew he was unworthy of your praises but he couldn't help but enjoy bathing in it!

[Look at your hair... and that make-up! Wow... truly is the fairest one of all!]

Oh please, no matter how much you compliment him, he could never compete with you beauty-wise! You would always be the true fairest one of all!

[Aha! Look at those heels too, contribute a lot to your height, and make you look so pretty!]

Even a prominent actor like him can't cover his natural reaction which was the growing blush on his face!

Eh? Rook? What does he have to do with him? Too in love with his words more than the beauty in front of you right now? No no no, you must look at him only and no one else!

Idia Shroud

If anything, he was glad his hair did not turn pink! From the way you kept on poking his avatar and patting his head, it made his heart tickled. He was no longer stuttering because the system wanted him to, but because he himself was nervous!

[Oh, show me that one illustration... Kyaaa! Why must you be so cute biting on your sleeve??? It's so inviting!!!]

Ah? That one? He couldn't help but feel embarrassed as you zoomed into his face and examined his hair. Truly, this was too much for his heart!

[Oh oh, and your masquerade costume is so pretty! It makes you look so pretty ffs!]

Ah, it was pretty uncomfortable to wear but he's glad he didn't take it off, not like he can do that anyway. The system won't allow that after all.

Everything feels nice so why are you changing character now? Wait wait! Have you checked his other card? No no no, why is that little shortie fae here? Don't close on him, please! He might want to try hacking your phone soon!

Lilia Vanrouge

Oya? You'd like to dress him up? Kukuku, looks like green and pink would work well on him~

[And... I think we can try curling his long hair, can we change the hue from red to pink like a color wheel?]

...Curling his hair didn't sound bad. Maybe he should try it sometimes and see if it suited him.

[Oh! And I'm gonna hang him upside down like the bat he is! My cute little bat, let's fist-fight!]

You really are an enigma huh? One moment is a sweet and docile lamb then the next moment you are a bull. Hm? Malleus? Why talk about him so sudden? Didn't you say he is your number-one favorite from Diasomnia? So why are you looking at someone else now?

𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐒:

Floyd Leech

God of Shrimpy~ Keep on poking him, he loves it! Ah, you love his teeth? And his droopy eyes? And his laugh? Hehe, you really love everything about him huh?

So why do you even bother looking at the others? He's going to hug you tight for this silly!

Jade Leech

Ah, he is quite the gentleman, no? Hm? You'd like to keep him as your butler? Why that is quite the generous idea that you allow him to manage your daily life~

With a small dose of love potion in your daily tea every day, he's bound to have you in his arms soon, well, if he ever finds a way to pull you into this twisted wonderland.

Jamil Viper

It truly is an honor to be considered as someone reliable (from babysitting Kalim) and acknowledged as an attendant who could shield you from any danger, truly. He is ready to put his life in line for you so why?

Why are you saying that there's someone else who might fit the position as your attendant more than him? And that person being that slimy eel no less!

Rook Hunt

Ah! This is amazing! To be able to charm you with his words and let him worm into your heart is truly a blessing! Would you like him to write you a poem detailing your beauty?

No no, mon chèri, you shouldn't grace those who are unbefitting of it, don't you think it's a waste to spare the other your grace? Allow this hunter to save you from that trouble.

Epel Felmier

H-huh? You want to dress him up? Naturally, he hates being treated as a doll, a girl no less! But... the idea of you helping him dress and helping him with makeup... he can do this. It is your way of gracing him after all...

Huh? You want to dress Lilia up too? Why? Because he's cuter? Oh no, there's no way there's someone who is prettier than him, look at him, look at how pretty he is in this dress!

Malleus Draconia

If anything, he will always hear you compare him and Riddle to the 'Queen of Heart' and 'Maleficient' from your world. You will praise him for being able to stand on the same level as the actress' beauty which makes him feel giddy.

But boy is he sulking when you start rambling about Riddle and the big-headed Queen. You will dote on him and Riddle back and forth.

Can't you just dote on him?

[eternalguk]

Pink Hearts & Black Clouds || jjk. — 01

Love me at my lowest, I’ll love you when you’re barely holding on

↠ Pairing : Jungkook x Reader

↠ Summary : Jeon Jungkook is the epitome of a brooding grunge. Moody, distant, and always a little too sarcastic. A grumpy, tattooed college student who barely tolerates anyone… except you. Somehow, the girl who’s a whirlwind of pink hearts and strawberry lipgloss is the one who keeps dear Jungkook on his toes.

But you must admit… behind that gruff exterior, there’s a side of him only you get to see—gentle, caring, and ready to spoil you in his own way. Everyone else may see him as the tough guy with a permanent scowl, but you know better. Jungkook’s heart? It’s all yours.

↠ Genre : established relationship au, college au, grunge!bf x bimbo!gf, angst, fluff & smut

↠ Word count : 3.8K

↠ Warnings : swearing, making out, teasing, exhibitionism (sex in a lecture theatre), unprotected sex, penetrative sex, rough sex, slight dumbification, dirty talk, begging, oral sex (m. receiving), ass smacking, scratching, dom!jungkook x sub!reader, use of pet names, sex on a desk (he hits it from the back at one point), a very moody but flirtatious Jungkook paired with bimbo!oc deserves its own warning :) - I think that’s about it?

↠ A/n : Hi there ; here it is! Chapter 01 of my first series, ‘pink hearts and black clouds’ which I am so excited to share. This story means a lot to me as it explores two completely different personalities finding their way together. With bimbo, sunshine!reader and grunge, grumpy!jk, I hope you enjoy exploring this world as much as I loved creating it. It’s messy, it’s fun, it’s emotional, it’s steamy (at times 👀) and it’s absolutely everything I could ask for! I’d love to hear what you think - your reactions, favourite part, or even anything you’d like to see from them in the future! Feedback / comments are always appreciated. Thank you for giving my story a chance & happy reading 🦢.

↠ Song : ‘Closer’ by Jungkook / ‘Good for you’ by Selena G

❧ Chapter 01 : Lipgloss & Leather

prev. || next  || series masterlist || masterlist

A stream of light filters through the wooden, venetian blinds of the lecture theatre windows, slicing through the warm, cinnamon-scented air.

God bless Ms. Choi for her diffusers.

The ambience of the empty theatre is a sharp contrast to the wintry chill that is dancing around outside. The time of season where it bites at your cheeks and refuses to let go. Inside though, the warmth feels like a holiday cocoon, the kind that makes you shed layers and forget the frost clinging to the world beyond your surrounding.

Unfortunately, despite the serene atmosphere, you don’t feel any less distracted.

You are perched in a chair at the back of the theatre, mindlessly playing with your pink glitter gel pen while Jungkook sits on the desk in front of you, legs spread arrogantly, one boot perched on the seat beside yours. The light catches on the silver chain hanging from his neck, a stark contrast to his black t-shirt and ripped dry-denim jeans.

You should be focusing on taking notes for the upcoming midterm, like he told you to do, but instead, your eyes keep wandering back to the powerful man in front of you.

Powerful because he consumes your entire being.

You pout as you swirl a strand of your hair around your finger, oblivious to the smirk curling on Jungkook’s lips as he catches onto your little daydream.

“Not taking notes, princess?” he asks, tone dripping with mockery.

“Erm…” you blink at him, momentarily caught off guard. “I was… thinking?”

Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Thinking. Right. About the syllabus or about how good I look right now?”

Your cheeks flame as he leans forward, chin propped lazily on his tattooed hand. His dark hair falls messily over his face, making him look even more impossibly cocky.

“Both?” you meekly offer, putting down the glitter pen and propping your chin onto your soft hands.

His grin stretches wider. “You’re cute when you lie.”

You smile at the compliment as Jungkook reaches out and grabs the gel pen from the desk, inspecting it like it was the most interesting thing in the world. The sight of his tattooed fingers gripping the sparkly pink plastic makes your heart race.

“Why do you even need this?” he teases, holding the pen just out of reach when you try to grab it back. “It’s ugly, you definitely don’t use it to write anything down and it’s pink.”

Jungkook grimaces, observing the pen as though it’s a foreign object.

You huff and pout harder, crossing your arms. “You said you’d help me study, but all you’re doing is being mean!”

“Mean?” Jungkook cackles, the sound low and gravelly. “Doll, I’m just keeping it real. Someone has to be with you.”

“Ugh, you’re the worst!” you whine, trying again to snatch the pen, but Jungkook is faster. He swiftly moves it behind his back, staring you down with his usual, conceited smirk.

“And yet, here you are. With me.”

“Because you don’t let me leave,” you shoot back, a small huff escaping as you try your best to appear annoyed.

But you aren’t. Not even a little bit.

Especially when Jungkook leans in even closer, his dark eyes scanning your face like he is trying to memorise every detail.

“C’mere,” he says softly, contrasting his suddenly serious expression.

You blink up at him, your heart fluttering. “Why?”

“Just come here, doll. Trust me.”

You hesitate for half a second before leaning forward, and that is all the invitation Jungkook needs to grab your chair and yank you forward, placing you between his legs. Your breath hitches as he cups your face in his hands, the rough pads of his thumbs stroking your cheeks.

“You’re too fucking pretty, you know that?” he murmurs, his voice so low and intimate that it sends a shiver down your spine.

“Jungkook…” You trail off, feeling utterly flustered and ridiculously warm under his intense gaze.

“What?” he questions, cocking his head playfully. “You don’t like compliments? Want me to call you dumb instead? You like that, huh?”

“N-no!” you stutter, and the way he leans in closer makes your head spin.

“That’s what I thought,” he says with a smirk, brushing his nose against yours. “My good girl likes being told she’s pretty.”

Your heart thumps loudly in your chest as his lips find yours, the kiss starting soft but quickly turning hungrier. Jungkook kicks your chair back before tugging you impossibly closer, his hands sliding down to your waist.

“Fuck, you taste sweet,” he mumbles against your lips.

“Strawberry lip gloss,” you utter, still fairly dazed.

He hums appreciatively, a smile now evident on his face. “My favourite.”

Jungkook’s hands slides lower, squeezing your hips as he deepens the kiss. You moan softly when he nips at your bottom lip, his pierced tongue sweeping over it a second later.

The sound of the theatre door creaking open in the distance makes you freeze.

The wind.

“Jungkook!” you hiss, pulling back slightly. “What if someone comes in?”

Jungkook grins, completely unbothered. “Free show?”

“You’re impossible!”

“You love it,” he teases, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth. His hands tug at the hem of your short pink skirt, hiking it up higher as his fingers toy with the edge of your lace underwear.

“Ahh, is this the pair I got you the other day?”

“Jungkook…” you mewl, voice barely above a whisper. You manage a quick nod, before falling to rest your head on Jungkook’s shoulder.

“My doll is always so needy,” he grumbles, his dark eyes locking with yours. “But I don’t mind.”

Jungkook continues to fiddle with your underwear, his hand slipping inside to cup your now soaked sex in his rough hands. “Nice and wet.”

You squirm in his grasp, your cheeks burning as he presses another kiss to your neck, nipping the sensitive skin until you gasp.

“Relax, baby,” he whispers. “I’ve got you, I promise.”

And with that, you give in - like you always do with your lover boy.

“Get on the desk.”

Your heart races as you turn toward the heavy, wooden desk behind you. It feels cold beneath your palms as you hoist yourself up, the sound of your skirt rustling loud in the quiet space. Jungkook watches you intently, his eyes darkening as you settle onto the surface, your legs dangling over the edge.

He steps closer, his hands sliding up your thighs, pushing the hem of your skirt higher.

“Look at you,” Jungkook whispers, his voice dripping with approval. “So pretty. So perfect for me.”

You shiver, your hands gripping the edge of the desk as his fingers trace patterns on your skin. Jungkook’s touch feels electric, sending sparks shooting through your veins.

“J-Jungkook—” you stutter, your voice shaky.

“Shh,” he interrupts, his voice firm but gentle. “Just relax. Let me take care of you.”

Your boyfriend's words send a wave of warmth washing over you, and you let your body sink into the desk as he leans in, his breath hot against your neck. You feel the stubble on his jaw brushing against your skin, the faint scent of his woody cologne filling your senses.

“The way you give in,” he begins, his lips grazing your ear, “is fucking beautiful.”

A soft whimper escapes your glossy lips as his hands move higher, pushing your skirt up to your waist. His fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, and you gasp as he tugs them down, leaving you exposed.

Jungkook is quick to toss them onto his discarded leather jacket draped over the chair beside him. The delicate blush of your pink panties against the rugged, worn leather is a stark contrast that sends your mind spiraling.

“Stunning,” he utters to himself, eyes roaming over your body with a hunger that quickens your pulse.

Why the fuck is this man so hot?

You squirm, cheeks burning with embarrassment, but Jungkook doesn’t give you time to think. Not that there was much going on up there anyway.

His hands grips your hips, pulling you closer to the edge of the desk. He wraps your delicate legs around him, engulfing you in his embrace.

“As beautiful as you look like this,” Jungkook mutters, caressing your cheek, “I need you on your knees.”

You’re quick to comply, gently shoving Jungkook away. He cackles at your eagerness, but deep inside his brooding heart, he feels at awe.

“Open your mouth,” he commands, quick to change personas, voice rough with desire.

Again, you obey without hesitation, your lips parting as he unzips his jeans. His cock springs free, already hard and straining, and your eyes widen as he steps closer, the tip brushing against your lips.

“Suck,” he orders, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You hesitate for only a second before leaning forward, taking him into your mouth. His taste is salty and masculine, making you moan softly as you begin to move your tongue, your lips wrapping tightly around his girthy member.

Jungkook groans, his hand tangling in your hair as he guides your head up and down. “That’s it, doll,” he encourages, his voice thick with pleasure. “Take all of me.”

You sink deeper, gagging slightly as he hits the back of your throat. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you don’t stop, determined to please him.

“Such a good girl,” Jungkook effortlessly praises, his grip tightening in your hair. “You were fucking made for this.”

The words send a jolt of heat straight to your core, and you moan around him, the vibrations making him shudder.

“Fuck,” he curses, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. “I’ll be painting your face with cum if you keep that up.”

You pull back slightly, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Isn’t that what you like?”

Jungkook chuckles darkly, his thumb brushing over your swollen lips. “Not yet, baby. I have other plans for you first.”

Before you can even think of a response, Jungkook pulls you off the floor, spinning you around so your back is pressed against his chest. His hands roam over your body, cupping your breasts through your satin blouse as he nips at your earlobe.

“You’re turn, princess,” he whispers, voice sending shivers down your spine for the umpteenth time this afternoon.

You gasp as his cold fingers find their way between your legs, exploring your already soaked folds. He teases you mercilessly, touch light yet maddening enough that it has you writhing in his bulky arms.

“Please,” you beg, voice trembling with need.

You try to grind against him, but Jungkook’s firm grip stops you from doing so.

“Please what?” he taunts, feigning confusion, breath hot against your neck.

“Fuck me,” you whimper, the words spilling out effortlessly.

Jungkook grins, his teeth flashing in the dim light. “What my pretty doll wants, my pretty doll gets.”

In one swift motion, he lifts you onto the desk, positioning himself between your legs. Jungkook’s cock presses against your entrance, and you yelp as he thrusts into you in one smooth, powerful movement.

”God, why are you so tight?” Jungkook groans, his hands gripping your hips as he begins to move. “I fucked you this morning.”

The sensation, along with the reminder of your earlier shenanigans, is overwhelming and both the stretch and burn send waves of pleasure through you.

You wrap your legs around Jungkook’s slim waist, urging him deeper as he pounds into you relentlessly.

“Harder,” you whimper, your nails digging into his shoulders. “More.”

Jungkook obliges, slamming into you with a force that has the desk rocking against the floor. The sound echoes through the lecture theatre, mingling with your desperate moans and his guttural grunts.

“Could fuck this cunt all day,” Jungkook growls, his pace increasing as he mercilessly hammers his thick cock into you.

You cling to him, body trembling on the edge of release. But just as you’re about to let go, Jungkook pulls out, leaving you gasping and empty.

“No!” you cry, your eyes snapping open to meet his smug grin.

“Not yet,” he warns, voice firm. “You’re not cumming until I say so.”

You whimper, your body aching with need, but Jungkook isn’t done. He flips you over onto your stomach, hoisting your hips up so your ass is in the air.

“What are you doing?” you ask, your voice muffled by the desk.

“Giving you what you wanted,” he replies casually, his hands spreading your cheeks apart.

And then Jungkook is inside you again, filling you completely as he drives into you with a ferocity that leaves you utterly breathless.

Your sopping pussy lewdly squelches around Jungkook, completely soaking him. The sound turns the pair of you on further.

“Right there!” You mewl, pushing yourself back onto Jungkook, the pressure making you moan uncontrollably.

“Say it,” he demands, his voice rough with exertion. “Tell me who fucks you this good.”

“Y-you,” you stutter, your voice breaking as he hits your g-spot deep inside you. “This drenched pussy is yours.”

“And who do you belong to?” Your boyfriend growls, his hand coming down on your plump ass with a sharp smack.

“I’m yours!” you cry, the pain mixing with pleasure in the most delicious way. “Love the way you fuck me.”

Jungkook smirks, his pace slowing as he leans over you, lips brushing against your ear. “Good girl. Now come for me.”

As soon as the words leave his filthy mouth, your body convulses, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over you as you come undone. Jungkook isn’t far behind, his own release hitting him with a force that leaves him trembling.

The feeling of his cum oozing into you has you wanting to turn around and ride the fuck out of your lover boy.

Jungkook collapses on top of you, his breath hot against your skin as you both struggle to catch your breath.

“You okay, doll?” he asks, his voice softening as he turns you around and carefully seats you on the desk.

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. “Yeah. I’m- wow.”

Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re amazing.”

“And you, Bakugo,” you reply, your voice hoarse and barely above a whisper.

Your lover boy grins, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your back. “Round two after lunch?”

The cafeteria hums with energy, alive with the noise of lively chatter and the sporadic clatter of trays hitting tables.

You’re perched on the bench beside Jungkook, a tray of half-eaten chips and an unopened can of Samjin Mango Soda sitting in front of you.

Across the table, Taehyung and Jimin are engaged in a heated debate about Haikyu, their hands waving dramatically as they try to outtalk each other about the anime the two of them are currently rewatching.

Well, truthfully speaking, all of you have been rewatching, but only the two of them are so deeply interested. Maybe Jungkook, but he’d never admit it.

Speaking of Jungkook, he is slouched against the table, one elbow propped up as his thumb scrolls lazily through your phone, staring at pictures you had taken of yourself today.

And he says he isn’t obsessed.

As usual, he hasn’t said much, just the occasional grunt when someone asks him a question. He looks effortlessly intimidating, his black hoodie (that you finally returned) pulled low over his forehead, his iconic silver chain around his neck catching the light and his usual scowl that is always imprinted on his beautiful face.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t be more of a contrast. You’re in your own world, a makeshift beauty station spread out in front of you, next to yours and Jungkook’s shared meal. Your compact mirror is propped against the soda can, brushes and glosses neatly scattered around it.

A soft pout forms on your lips as you reapply a coat of your signature lip gloss, the sticky sheen glistening in the light. You’re blissfully focused, tilting your head to inspect your work like an artist perfecting their masterpiece.

“You’re so wrong,” Jimin says, leaning forward with a look of betrayal. “There’s no way Seijoh vs. Karasuno is better than Shiratorizawa vs. Karasuno.”

“It’s about the emotional stakes, Jimin,” Taehyung replies, sipping his iced tea as though he is a certified anime critic. “Oikawa’s genius mind versus Kageyama’s raw talent? That’s art.”

“Art?” Jimin scoffs. “Bro, real art is Ushijima annihilating them with a spike.”

Taehyung shrugs. “Oikawa’s smugness had more impact than any spike ever could.”

“Who’s Kageyama again?” you pipe up, tilting your head.

Jungkook’s phone, well your phone, lowers an inch as he glances at you, his expression blank. “You can’t be serious. We literally watched an episode yesterday.”

You shrug, completely unbothered by the disbelief in his tone. “I don’t remember the boring ones.”

Jimin nearly chokes on his drink, eyes wide in horror. “Boring?! He’s literally the King of the Court!”

“Don’t,” Jungkook says flatly, cutting off Jimin’s impending rant. “She’ll just start listing the hot ones.”

You grin, batting your lashes at him. “Is that a problem, Koo?”

Taehyung leans back in his seat, smirking. “You’ve got your hands full, don’t you, Koo?”

“I wouldn’t call it that,” Jungkook mutters, though his ears tinge pink. “And don’t fucking call me that.”

Taehyung catches it immediately, raising his brows. “Is that a blush I see, Jungkook? The same guy who nearly broke someone’s nose in basketball last week?”

“Fuck off,” Jungkook grumbles, sliding your phone over to you.

“Bro, you’re whipped,” Jimin adds, his laugh practically echoing across the room.

“No I’m not-”

“You are,” Taehyung interrupts, pointing a chip at him. “It’s so obvious. You’ve got that whole, ‘don’t fucking talk to me’ thing going on, but this one over here bats her fake lashes and you’re folding fast.”

“Hey! They’re real,” you protest, leaning forward and resting your chin in your palms.

You study Jungkook with a teasing smile. “Is that true? Am I your kryptonite?”

His eyes flick to yours, dark and unreadable, but there’s a flicker of something - amusement, maybe, or fond exasperation. Jungkook simply doesn’t answer, just grabbing a chip from the tray and popping it into his mouth.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you say, your smile widening.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, but it’s half-hearted. He leans back in his seat, stretching his long legs out under the table, and you notice the way his fingers tap rhythmically against his knee. He looks relaxed, but you know him well enough to recognise the effort it takes to hold back a snarky comment.

“He doesn’t even deny it,” Jimin continues, grinning like he’s won something. “You know what? I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think you’re good for him.”

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden compliment. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung agrees, though his tone is far more mischievous. “You’re like the sunshine to his thundercloud.”

“Lipgloss to his cigarette,” Jimin chimes in.

“Or the idiot to his genius,” Jungkook finishes off, his voice dry as ever.

You gasp, smacking his muscular arm lightly. “I’ll have you know I’m very smart!”

“Name the capital of the United States,” he challenges, barely hiding the smirk tugging at his lips.

“Easy,” you say confidently, shrugging your shoulders. “Hollywood.”

Taehyung and Jimin dissolve into laughter, and even Jungkook can’t hold back the small shake of his shoulders.

“Christ,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over his face. “You’re unbelievable.”

You pout, confused why the boys are laughing. But, the sight of Jungkook joining in with them has you leaning into his side, grinning up at him. “You still like me, right?”

Jungkook doesn’t reply, but his hand moves to casually rest against the small of your back, his fingers caressing the exposed skin.

And that?

That’s the only answer you need.

You busy yourself with dabbing some extra Dior blush onto your cheeks, the sunlight streaming through the window catching the shimmer within it. Jimin plays with your Ilia mascara, shaking his head as he takes in the rest of your makeup that is scattered around.

Taehyung sees that you’re occupied and smirks, leaning closer to Jungkook. “You defo love it, you’re just too much of a moody shit to admit it.”

“Love what?” Jungkook asks, deadpan, though the tightening of his jaw gives him away.

“Having someone fuss over you,” his best friend teases, motioning his thumb towards you with a grin. “She’s got you wrapped around her finger.”

Jungkook exhales sharply, looking down at the now empty takeaway container in front of him like it’s suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world. “You have nothing better to talk about?”

Your eyes dart to him, catching the faintest hint of red creeping up his neck.

Smiling to yourself, you lean your chin on your palm. “It’s okay, Jungkookie,” you coo softly. “You don’t have to say it. I already know.”

He glares at you, but there’s no real bite to it. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?” you ask, pouting in innocence. “You love it when I call you that.”

Taehyung and Jimin burst into laughter once again at your audacity.

Jungkook narrows his eyes at them before turning to you. For a split second, his fingers twitch on the table, like he’s about to pull you closer. His gaze softens as it lingers on you - like he’s on autopilot, already halfway to pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

But then he stops.

Clearing his throat, he leans back in his chair instead, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt over his head like armour. “You’re insufferable and annoying.”

You blink, caught between surprise and amusement. “You almost- you almost did it!”

“What?” he grunts, refusing to look at you.

“You were going to kiss my head.” Your voice is laced with a playful lilt, but there’s a flicker of something tender beneath it. “Don’t worry, Kookie. Next time, you’ll follow through.”

His tongue pokes against his cheek, a telltale sign of his rising frustration - or embarrassment, you can’t quite tell. “Shut up and eat,” he mutters, tugging his hood lower before he shoves a packet of crisps your way.

Jimin and Taehyung howl in laughter, and you can’t help but join them, even as Jungkook mumbles curses under his breath.

Somewhere beneath the gruffness, there’s the faintest quirk of his lips - a fleeting smile that only you seem to notice.

And in small moments like this you conclude that while Jungkook doesn’t give you flowers or grace you with love letters, he gives you something that is endless - pieces of himself: his time, his trust, his unwavering presence, and a love so consuming it feels like forever.

And there we have it! Please do let me know your thoughts ; the support I receive means the world to me 🫶🏻

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[thevoidstaredback]

How To Balance Your Daytime and Nighttime Activities So That You Don't Burn Yourself Out More Than You Already Have

It had been a long few minutes since he'd opened the door and there were a lot of questions running through Dick's head. Most pressing of which was how this kid seems to have information he should not have.

"How did you..?" he asked, but the words wouldn't leave completely. There's so much he wants to know, so much he wants to ask.

"How do I what?" Danny tilted his head like the child he seems to be is.

"How do you know?" Dick knows he sounds weak. There's no hiding that, but there are a lot of implications in what the kid has said so far and none of it is painting a very happy picture for him.

"Oh!" Danny had the audacity to smile, "You want to know how I know you moonlight as a vigilante!" And of course he knows. Dick knows he knows, but he'd held a little bit of hope that the child Danny was mistaken. Danny's smile softened a bit as he explained, "Your hair and voice match up in both jobs almost perfectly. Not to mention your build and how you hold yourself. There's also the matter of your overall vibes, but that's not something living beings can normally pick up on." Excuse him? "Well, not living humans, at least, so no worries on that end!"

"Excuse me?" Dick was fairly sure his heart just stopped beating for a moment there.

"Anyway, I was a hero back home for a while, too. I know what it's like to have to walk the tightrope between maintaining a civilian cover and a hero persona. I know how it feels to have to keep secrets from everyone because anyone who knows will be in danger." he rambled, Though, admittedly, our circumstances are quite different. I was working as a hero all hours of the day as well as going to school. You only have to worry about properly balancing between day and night jobs. Either way, me having more to bounce between just makes me al the more qualified to help you!"

Oh. Oh he did not like that. He didn't like a single thing that just came out of the kid's mouth. Because that's what he is, a kid. "Are you...Are you alright?"

"Not in the slightest," Danny admitted with an even smaller smile. Then, it brightened, not quite to a grin, but to something similar, "But I'm here to make sure you are."

He gets points for being honest, but Dick felt his heart shatter. He knew for a fact that he'd never worked with this kid before. He also knew that the Justice League didn't know about him. If they did, he would've been picked up and dropped with either the Young Justice team or the Titans.

Dick wasn't going to ask why he became a hero because that's not his place. It's more of a 'third mission with the team' kind of questions, anyway. Most of the heroes didn't have many options when they took up the mantle. Asking what Danny can do is a more appropriate question, but he wasn't going to ask that, either.

"Now that that's out of the way," Danny turned a few pages from the table of contents to another one that was topped with 'Why Sleep Scheduling Is Important' in the blue glitter pen that Dick was starting to suspect he favored. "You're not getting enough sleep. Following you around - no one's been able to find me for a while, so don't worry about that - for the last two weeks has given me some really worrisome information on you."

Dick was worrying. He was worrying a lot and even more questions were coming to the forefront of his mind.

"Your dayjob is as an officer on the Bludhaven Police Force, or BPD for short." He was looking over the page he'd turned to very aptly and Dick realized that the kid had notes written on him. "The average hours per week for police across the country is forty hours. Gotham and Bludhaven are the exceptions. As a member of the BPD, you work a solid two days and two hours. Six nights a week, you work as Nightwing from eight in the evening to three in the morning. The last day, you take off, which is good. No deserable pattern, so good on you for that. Regardless, that's seven hour nights and ten hour days, with one day off and one day on call as an officer. Seven hours are now left in your day for personal time, eating, and sleeping. That's not a healthy way to live."

Oh, god, the kid had honest to god notes on him! What the hell!

Danny didn't even skip a beat as he pulled Dick's attention back to him and his binder. "I've drawn up a schedule for you to follow." The back of the page had a meticulously drawn schedule, complete with blocks of time to eat, sleep, work both jobs, travel, personal time, and still have a bit extra left over. It was titled 'Ideal End Result' in green marker. "Drastic changes right away will only affect you negatively, so we're starting off smaller." The next page over had another schedule titled 'Where To Begin'. "I've only pulled one hour from your Nightwing hours because I know important that time is to you and the city. I am, however, going to be having you submit an appeal to your boss to cut back your hours from fifty a week to forty a week. That way, you'll only be working eight hours a day and not ten. You'll still be on call for one day, and you'll have that last day off. Altogether, you'll be going be going from working seventeen hours a day to fourteen hours a day. Nine in the morning to five in the afternoon, and eight in the evening to two in the morning. Not including breaks at work or travel time. It opens up a few more hours for you to sleep!"

"You really think the chief is going to pull back my hours?" Dick raised an eyebrow in question.

"He will if he knows what's good for him."

"You know I can arrest you for that threat, right?"

"Yeah, but you won't." And, damn it, he's right.

Although, there was now another thing he had to know. "How to you plan on enforcing this schedule of yours?"

Danny seemed to have been waiting for this. He got a gleam in his eye as he pulled a black folder from his bag, not breaking eye contact with Dick. He placed it on the table and pushed it across. "Congratulations, it's a boy."

Part 1 Part 3

[impval]

cinnamon in my teeth pt.2

CaitVi  x fem!reader

You were so used to coming home to an empty, silent house. No parents, no friends, no one to greet you after your shifts at work. Just the soft, solitary hush of an empty house.

The silence sat heavy on your shoulders - that feeling of being alone, and isolated.

You'd spend hours sitting quietly, lost in your head.

You'd go hours without speaking a word to anyone, the only company you had being the sound of your own heartbeat and the voices inside your head.

Life was quiet. Lonely.

But now… now the house was full of sound. Of warmth and laughter and love.

You'd come home to the sound of arguments, of giggles and laughter, of two women who loved you very dearly. You'd be met with smiles instead of loneliness, and you'd be greeted with warm kisses before even finished saying hello.

The silence was still there sometimes, but it was different. Softer. It was a comfort to walk into the house and still feel the presence of your girlfriends, even when they weren't there. Their clothes, their accessories, their distinct scents.

They didn't always come home together, unfortunately. Their jobs often left them both late at night, either one getting home before the other, sometimes both being late. Caitlyn was a workaholic, so often she'd be at her desk well beyond the hours most normal people would consider reasonable.

Caitlyn was an incredibly dedicated person, and while you knew work was important to her, both you and Vi were always happy that she tried to make time for you.

There were times when it was hard, though. When she'd come home in the late hour, looking tired and worn out and stressed. When she'd spend long hours hunched over paperwork, and you'd find her in the middle of the night, still not done.

But overall, it wasn't too bad. You appreciated that she was willing to put work aside for you and Vi.

You can never get excited for Fridays. You love that the end of the week brings a break from work, but at the same time, that Friday energy always seems to bring all the idiots with it. Meetings, last minute reports, and unexpected calls from clients who need their paperwork signed by the end of the week.

You let out a soft sigh, dropping your pen down on the desk. Your back popped as you finally straightened your spine, feeling the knots of pain in your shoulders unknotting.

Your eyes roamed over the rest of the office, eyeing out your coworkers. Just like you, they all had that shrimp-like slouch, slumped over their desks.

Office life was slowly destroying your back.

Your eyes narrowed as you spotted your boss, standing across the office with a cup of tea and another coworker. Your boss is an absolute ass - a massive jerk who thinks that just because you're the younger, he can push every last responsibility onto your shoulders.

But he'd been much quieter lately and seemed to be avoiding you like you had a deadly disease, passing on work to others instead of giving it directly to you. It was a strange change.

And there was something about the glitter on his neck that was familiar… pink and blue, he tried covered it with a scarf but you noticed. The glitter dusted across his skin, plus the hint of a limp he now had, and the fact that someone had spent an entire day cleaning the graffiti from the his office...

You finish the last of the coffee in your mug, unable to help a small smile lifting your mouth.

Caitlyn and Vi hadn't promised to stay out of it, but Jinx… Jinx didn't make such promise.

Jinx was Vi's younger sister, and the relationship between the sisters was… complicated, to say the least. At least they weren't currently fighting, but it was only a matter of time.

She was insane, that was for sure. But you also kind of liked Jinx… when she wasn't kidnapping you or trying to burn down the city, that is. Despite her occasional kidnappings and pranks, Jinx did sort of treat you differently than anyone else. You couldn't quite pin down why.

You were normal. A civilian, no history of violence, no blood on your hands, an average person. Perhaps it was just because you were normal.

It had been an odd encounter when Jinx kidnapped you for first time, but the first thing you'd said to her? "I like your hair."

The clock on the wall finally reached the end of the work day, marking the end of your shift.

You stood from your seat, stretching your stiff back, letting a sigh out of your lips. Your boss looked nervous as you smiled at him, walking past.

The evening air was cool, sending a chill down your spine. With a sigh you tightened your jacket around your shoulders, searching for any sign of Vi.

Suddenly, you felt a pair of hands fall over your eyes, and a familiar voice spoke behind you.

"Guess who?"

Vi leaned her face close to your ear, her smile widening as she heard your comment, her breath warm. You could feel a smile tug at your lips, the familiar scent and warmth of your girlfriend's presence bringing you comfort. The feel of her body next to you was as natural and comforting as breathing.

"A bit predictable, don't you think?" you smirked, a slight hint of sarcasm in your tone.

"Maybe. But it gets you every time."

She moved her hands away from your eyes and instead wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. The kiss was light and gentle, and you could feel the blush quickly take over your cheeks.

Vi's hair was a bit dirty, a mess of tangled locks, yet somehow it still looked as cool as ever. There was a slight smudge of dirt across her cheek, probably from some sort of grease, and you reached up to wipe it away.

Vi's arm wrapped around your waist as you took slow strides towards your house, your pace relaxed in the cool evening air. The walk wasn't far, only ten minutes from the office.

You still couldn't believe it sometimes, living in a mansion now, a far cry from your small apartment, and you had two girlfriends. Life was weird.

"How was your day?" Vi said softly.

You loved your job for the most part. Yeah, it had endless paperwork and tedious reports, but it paid the bills, and the people you worked with were nice and helpful.

Vi didn't always fully understand what you said, but that never stopped her from paying attention and trying to grasp the concepts. It was one of the things you loved most about her - her unwavering attention and curiosity.

The walk home was filled with you discussing work and venting to Vi, who listened and asked questions in the right spots. She nodded along, making noises of understanding to let you know that she was following along.

The lights of mansion glowed warmly in the windows as you and Vi approached, letting you know that Caitlyn was home. Perfect, since that meant she was probably already cooking dinner.

Vi didn't quite know how to cook, although Caitlyn and you was more than happy to help her. You usually took the lead in the kitchen, but you'd grown tired of it recently, and you couldn't deny the appeal of Caitlyn handling all the cooking.

You and Vi exchanged a knowing look, both of you thinking the same thing. Caitlyn's cooking was that good.

The moment you stepped into the house, the scent of freshly-cooked meat immediately hit your nostrils, your mouth watering at the thought of a proper meal after a day filled only with snacks.

Both you and Vi walk into the kitchen, finding Caitlyn standing by the stove. She looks adorable in the little apron she’s wearing, and you can tell she's a little tired - her forehead is creased with a worried little crease, and her messy hair is pushed back into a bun.

The moment you enter, she turns to you both, a warm smile on her full lips.

"You're home!" Caitlyn exclaims with a pleased sigh.

You watch as Caitlyn leans over to give Vi a swift, affectionate kiss. Vi leans into the kiss, her arms wrapping around Caitlyn waist in a tight little pull.

"I missed you," she murmurs.

It was true that a lot of people didn't understand how three women could be in a relationship with each other. So many people tried to insist it was some sort of twisted experiment - that someone had to be left out, or that everyone was secretly miserable.

You had heard the questions - Don't you feel lonely? Don't you get jealous? - and you usually had just shrugged them off with a wry smile. After all, you were dating both the two most beautiful women in existence.

Jealousy? Loneliness? You feel neither.

Caitlyn then turns her attention to you, her expression softening.

"And I missed you too," she adds, her hand coming up to gently caress your cheek. "Did you have a good day, sweetheart?"

"It was..work as usual." You can't help smiling. It's such a stupid, lovesick, soft expression - like lovestruck puppy.

But you don't care at all.

Caitlyn smiles back, the corners of her eyes crinkling faintly.

"You're all happy like an idiots," Vi teases, an amused scoff in her voice. Her arms are still wrapped around Caitlyn's waist.

"Just work, huh?"

Caitlyn raises a curious eyebrow, her eyes watching you closely. A flicker of something - something you can't quite decipher - crosses over her face. There was something in her expression, like she was expecting a certain answer from you.

Well, someone had to set Jinx on your boss, right? Well, Caitlyn promised not to hurt your boss. Smart decision and no broken promises.

She nod regardless, and simply says, "Dinner's just about ready, so you might want to go wash up before you eat."

"Ugh," Vi groans, her grip growing tight on Caitlyn, as if it's to hold her in place.

Caitlyn simply rolls her eyes and gently bats Vi's hands away from her. "Go," she says, her voice firm. "You can't eat if your hands are all dirty."

You take Vi's hand and start to pull her towards the bathroom, leading her away from Caitlyn.

Vi gives one last, half-hearted protest, but she lets you pull her away without too much fuss. She follows you to the bathroom, and you start to wash at the sink.

It's so stupid how cute Vi can be when she's pouting like this. She's always been so used to getting her own way that she acts like a whiny five-year-old sometimes. It's both adorable and incredibly annoying at once.

You all sit at the table, and Vi is already shoveling food into her mouth like a greedy puppy. She's completely ungraceful, taking large, messy bites.

Caitlyn, on the other hand, is incredibly slow, savoring every bite of her food. She's a woman raised with manners and discipline, after all.

Christmas was on its way, and you now had a beautiful tree in the living room. Vi has never, ever been able to celebrate Christmas properly. Now she was going through all the effort to make her first Christmas "proper," and it was adorable how enthusiastic she was about it.

She was practically vibrating with excitement when you all first got the Christmas tree out. Her eyes lit up so brightly as she excitedly babbled about how much she was looking forward to decorating the tree together.

You all chat. The snow is falling outside, slowly blanketing your home in a layer of white, soft snow that creates a sense of comfort. Vi is so excited that you can't help but laugh at the fact that she didn't even notice the mess she's made of her own face.

Caitlyn has to wipe away some of the sauce from Vi's face, muttering about how she's a mess - but there's an affectionate, amused smile on her face.

You remember the days of instant ramen in a bowl and a quiet, empty apartment - you were always alone. The difference now is incredible, the change in lifestyle so immense that it still feels a little like a dream sometimes.

Christmas has always been a bit of a mixed bag for Caitlyn - she didn't hate it by any means, but there was always a lot of pressure for her to be on her very best behavior.

She would have had to arrange an event for the entire Kiramman family, which meant she would have had to talk to an awful lot of people who she absolutely did not like.

You're aware of this, and you'd make sure that she'd never have to go through it again. So you'd insisted that both of your girlfriends spend Christmas with you - no formality, just three girlfriends together in a happy home. You wanted it to be a peaceful holiday, without the usual stress.

As you pick up the dirty dishes, Vi cracks her knuckles and stretches before heading upstairs to take a shower. You know she'll be waiting in bed for you and Caitlyn later.

Caitlyn follows you, her hands at her sides, looking at you as you start washing the dishes. She watches you for a moment, studying you quietly.

Caitlyn has never been fond of people doing chores in her home. She'd rather do it herself, even though it was never necessary. She'd grown up in a house with servants, and she always hated it - it left her feeling like an outsider in her own home.

There is a time you remember when her gaze scared you. The weight of her stare was almost uncomfortable. She was so strong, so smart, so intimidating. Now you cherish that gaze. Now you love it when she stares at you.

"You know, my boss has been incredibly quiet lately," you say, breaking the silence with a saccharine-sweet voice.

Caitlyn's eyes narrow at your comment, a small frown marring her perfect face. She knew you knew.

Somehow, Caitlyn had convinced Jinx to... prank your boss. You knew Jinx wouldn't have thought to do it on her own - she was currently too busy with Zaun politics to really care about your problems. You hadn't seen her in months.

"He was?" she says, her tone as calm as your own. "I wonder why."

You finish washing the last dish in the sink, and turn off the water.

Caitlyn gives you a towel, and you quickly start to dry your hands. There's something you want to say, but you can't outmaneuver Caitlyn - she grew up with all these little games, and you, for all your effort, can never really match her.

No games, then.

"Jinx? Caitlyn, honey, just how?"

Caitlyn snorts, her head tilting to one side as she pushes some hair out of her face.

"How do you know it's me?" she asks, pretending to be unperturbed by your accusations. "Maybe it was Vi."

You roll your eyes, so hard it almost hurts.

There's no way it was Vi. She never would've thought up something like this on her own - and she would never be able to talk to Jinx without a fight. Those sisters are hopeless, two bickering children. You honestly wish they'd just get therapy or something.

Caitlyn laughs at your reaction, the sound soft and amused. She pulls you closer, wrapping her hands around your waist. She smells of spice and food - but there's that lingering scent of gunpowder there, that was just a part of her now. Always lingering like some sort of phantom.

"It helped that she likes you," she said, voice laced with amusement. She knew Jinx had a soft spot for you, and she'd have used that to her advantage. "And she likes to cause chaos, and i showed her the right direction."

Right. Well, you definitely won't tell Vi about this.

You nuzzle your face into Caitlyn's neck, just like a affectionate cat.

"I should've handled this myself." You murmur against her skin, your voice a little annoyed. You're not sorry for the man getting what he had coming - the jerk deserved it.

Caitlyn lets out a small sigh, your statement coming as no surprise to her. "I know," she murmurs, her voice soft and gentle.

Your girlfriend knew about your insecurities all too well. She could see the way you eyed Vi and her, the way you'd always compare yourself to the two of them. Just a regular person - you worked in an office job and had never stepped foot in combat. Nothing really special.

Caitlyn was particularly attuned to your feelings - she'd known you long enough now to be able to tell when you were feeling especially down on yourself. You were so much more to her than "nothing special."

Because you were a remarkable person. You should have more confidence, and know that you were worthy, special, and desirable in your own way.

She murmurs apology as you nuzzle against her, and you feel her gently running her fingers through your hair. "You know I hate that man for treating you the way he does," she murmurs, her voice soft and caring.

You and Caitlyn press each other close, clinging together. You both know that you can't stay like that for too much longer - Vi probably already waiting in the bedroom for you both, and she's not exactly the most patient person in the world.

Caitlyn presses a soft, final kiss to your forehead, before slowly detaching herself from your embrace.

"We should go to bed," she mumbles. "I'll probably get chewed out if we keep Vi waiting."

Caitlyn leads you up to the bedroom, a soft look in her eyes as you try to stay awake.

A yawn escapes you, and you cover it with your hand. Not only were you glad you didn't have to go anywhere tomorrow, but you were incredibly happy to get to just curl up in bed all morning, with both of your girlfriends still asleep beside you.

You loved those quiet moments. The stolen glances, the walks through the city, the soft touches and easy banter. It just felt so good, so right.

Yes. Life was good.

[xxgoldie]

went to karaoke and someone sang crush by david archuleta so now im thinking abt lighter romance enthusiast lorenz also listening to the most pining songs just the sappiest playlist known to man

as usual, i am Obsessed with lighter being down bad. he's such a fucking dork, i need him. have been listening to a variety of love song playlists for the last few days as i write this and its not helped the brainrot. cw: none, pure fluff, gn!reader wc: 444 (or 618 with the bonus)

when he's out and about, he tends to listen to metal and rock, the same kind of stuff that's in his demo trailer. it gets him in the right headspace for his champion duties. when he's alone, though? his headphones are playing exclusively sappy glitter-gel-pen love songs. he would rather die than let anyone know, he has an image to upkeep - wouldn't even put it past him to have a second spotify account, bc u know the girls will bug him to see his wrapped every year.

within the love song genre, his favourite songs are ones that remind him of you.

his listening history is an amalgamation of different musical styles, but what he really pays attention to is the lyrics; if there's a song that really captures the way he feels about you, or one where the singer describes their lover and they're similar to you, he can't help but put it on repeat. he also loves duets - just like with romance movies, he loves imagining its the two of you in that situation. when he's deep in crush territory, he'll even make a playlist of those songs (it's long - can't help that every other song reminds him of you).

when you're finally together, he's more open about his love of love songs. it may take a bit into your relationship, during some late-night conversation about your respective silly behaviours when you were pining over each other, for him to show you the playlist, titled with just your initial and a heart emoji. but even before that, if you happen to play any of the songs he secretly listens to, you might catch him singing along under his breath (lowkey this post every five seconds). you might chalk it up to him picking up the words of songs the girls listen to, but that's because you don't catch the way he looks at you with the lyrics on his lips.

there are other times where he'll slide up behind you in your kitchen, arms around your waist and head propped on your shoulder, the domesticity and the fact you're wearing his tshirt getting to him. he's not much of a singer, but he'll hum one of those songs in that moment (his voice has a lovely smooth n deep timbre, so his humming sounds Heavenly in your ear). he might get a little embarrassed if you recognise the song and start humming along with him, or god forbid singing, but he'll still sway the both of you along to the music. he's not much of a dancer either, but he can figure out a midnight slow dance in the kitchen for you.

bonus!! a few songs i think he'd listen to, tho kinda influenced by my own music taste (+ spotify links): kiss her you fool - kids that fly (he has it on loop when he's psyching himself up to ask you out) meteor shower - cavetown davy crochet - the backseat lovers (perhaps i'm biased on this one bc i crochet) stitch me up - set it off can't help falling in love - elvis presley cloud 9 - beach bunny ("even when we fade eventually to nothing / you will always be my favourite form of loving" really hits with his whole 'dying for love' thing) love grows (where my rosemary goes) - edison lighthouse paper rings - taylor swift jackie and wilson - hozier (there's a lot of hozier in his playlists, but he really likes the thought of a family with you, even if that's only a couple lines of the song) valentine - atlas sweet tooth - cavetown ("guess i must be satisfactory / you said you love me exactly the way i am" takes him Out i can just feel it) would you be so kind - dodie

[starvu]

Romantic Lover || s. reid

spencer wasn't a fan of love at first sight until he saw the new employee at his favorite coffee shop. well, things can change throughout the seasons.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

genre: fluff

content warnings: none :))

word count: 2,9k

a/n: i'm just trying to write, my english is not perfect, i'm not native, but i hope it won't bother you :)) i came up with this completely by accident when i was listening to romantic lover from eyedress (i was trying to make it pretty, but using tumblr is hard lol)

She's a killer,

one look is all it takes.

He never believed in fate, destiny or anything like that, but this time it was different. He thought, that nothing can surprise him, especially when he was buying morning, too sweet coffee in his favorite coffee shop at some late autumn, nearly early winter day. There were no leaves left on the trees, but autumn was not over yet. Winter was around the corner.

But something was worng. In fact, everything was wrong. Because he hated being late for work, which was exactly what he did. And he knew his trusted barista at his favorite, cozy coffee shop, but he was nowhere to be seen then. He always had the confidence that his coffee would be solid, with no unpleasant exceptions. Spencer loved things that were unchanging, constant, and certain, so the chance of a bad coffee on an already rushed day seemed cruel. Cruel coffee, undersweetened coffee, too little cream in coffee, something is wrong with the coffee.

But his heart clenched as soon as he crossed the threshold of a familiar place and you turned to him.

"Hey, good morning." You said casually with your enthusiasm. You had this attitude towards every client, wanting to brighten their day in the morning.

There you were, smiling all the time, with your navy blue nails, funky jewellery and a light brown apron tied in a neat bow at the back. You seemed to have within you all the energy of the sun, shine and warmth and you smelled like coffee. He stared at you for a moment, a little dazed by you. He wasn't used to it, but he focused on your eyes, the loose hair that fell out of your hairstyle and framed your face, his gaze wandering stupidly for a moment. It didn't sit well with his penchant for things that were permanent or unchanging. You cleared your throat slightly, wanting to snap him out of his reverie so he could order.

"Umm, yeah, good morning..." He played with his fingers nervously, his lips pressed into a line as he pondered over ordering coffee, even though he drank the same one every day. It didn't escape your notice.

His reaction didn't scare you in the slightest, even if he wasn't as enthusiastic as you were. You nodded as he placed his order, staring at him with a genuine smile. All your little behaviors were natural, unforced. He was nervous, but he couldn't take his eyes off you. And yet, this was the first time he'd seen you, and instead of his favorite barista.

Spencer felt like an idiot. Ordering coffee wasn't even a problem for him, with his not-so-best social skills, but after the first look at her, his stomach clenched. You unconsciously stared at him with your typical warmth in your eyes, and he felt smitten. Your energy, warm eyes and smile were really enough, even if it was stupid. He was stupid in that moment.

Then even ordering coffee became difficult, more difficult than mathematical equations, chemical reactions and biological cycles, with whom he had contact so often.

You didn't want to make things even more difficult for him, despite your smile, you didn't engage in unnecessary small talk with him. Instead, you silently scribbled your phone number on his paper cup with your glitter gel pen, you even drew a little smile next to the note. There was no rational explanation for it, you were simply captivated by that man. You turned around, fiddling around with the coffee machines a bit. You were still studying after deciding to change the coffee shop you worked at. You quickly poured the brown, fragrant drink into a cup, pouring a little more sugar into it, just like he asked.

"I would advise you to slow down a bit." You said a little bit quieter, as you gave him coffee cup, put the money in the cash register and handed him the freshly printed receipt. "Be careful, it's hot." You added as you focused more on the cash register than on him.

"Uhh, thank you?" He answered a little awkwardly, but he kept staring at you. He walked away after that, glancing back over his shoulder. You were still there, smiling at another customer. Were you real? You didn't seem real. Were you nice to him specifically, or were you nice to everyone?

It was only after he left the cafe that he noticed the note and felt almost as if he had been shot. The neat, round letters, or rather numbers written on the warm paper cup made him feel dazed. You had simply noticed him, dear God. Something tempted you to leave a trace, to indicate to him that you want to contact him. You looked at him and made a few small gestures like smiling, it's not big deal, he shouldn't have panicked or felt like a lovesick teenager. But one look is all it takes.

She's a killer,

and she took my breath away.

He called you. He called you in that early winter, and the feelings in yours hearts blossomed with the blooming flowers outside the window.

One late spring morning he woke up as usual. He woke up, but the spot next to him was cold. When he fell asleep the previous night, this spot had been warm. The night before, you had dinner together after he got back from a case, and you were just laying around aimlessly, talking about unimportant things. You listened to his rambling with genuine interest. You never said it bored you, you actually loved hearing it, even if sometimes you didn't fully understand it and needed more explanation. But in that morning you weren't next to him. He looked around his bedroom from his heavy eyelids and immediately felt relief.

He saw you leaning over the dark brown dresser, on which you had placed a small mirror. You were taking out of your makeup bag various colorful makeup things and shiny earrings. You painted your eyes with glitter, but bright and subtle shadow, put blush on your cheeks and tried to choose the right earrings. You blinked to apply mascara and closed your eyelids to draw a perfect line. Your lips were parted in concentration, and then you hold the bobby pins between your teeth. You tied her hair in a bun, braided it, unbraided it, tied your hair half up, half down and twisted locks on your fingers, even if it didn't stayed.

He didn't think you noticed him watching you. In reality, he was pretending to still be asleep. He didn't want to embarrass you, his eyes were slightly squinted, still sleepy as he rubbed them with his hands. He watched you quietly, and even if you wasn't doing anything special, it took his breath away. In a very simple way, you focused on bringing your image into order and composition.

Spencer finally got out of bed quietly, the floor in his apartment was creaky but he remembered perfectly how to bypass certain panels to pass silently. He stood behind you as you sat in the chair, he lightly placing his hands on either side of you head and kissing the top of your head tenderly, feeling yoir soft hair under his lips. "Morning, sweetheart. Don't worry, you already look pretty." He mumbled softly into your hair as he rested his chin on the top of your head.

You felt surprised when you suddenly heard the words and felt warmth and closeness. You thought he was still asleep. He raised his head slightly, looked in the mirror, and noticed that you was glancing at him in the mirror's reflection. He felt his heart fill with affection every time you looked at him.

"You think? I think it's all... I don't know, weird today." You answered hesitantly as you stared at your face and hair. Your gaze was focused on your appearance, and your expression was a little doubtful. You didn't always maintain that cheerful energy. Spencer quickly took a few steps, circling you, and leaned over you. He kissed the tip of your nose and both of your eyelids.

“No, you’re beautiful, everything is okay.” He tenderly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

You smiled warmly at him. He leaned in behind you, his posture still sleepy, which you found to be an absolutely adorable and precious sight. He rested his head on your warm shoulder. He ran his fingers through your hair carefully as you continued to apply your makeup. He kept staring at you with genuine admiration. There was silence between them, a comfortable silence. He didn't say anything, taking in your appearance, the scent of your hair, and the warmth of your skin. Finally, he buried his head in the crook of your neck. You didn't have to say much to feel each other's feelings, carefully preserved and nurtured in the quietness and privacy of his apartment.

It was almost unbelievable how much he loved looking at you. He loved looking at you, he loved your personality, he loved everything about you. It almost hurt him. Your movements, how effortlessly beautiful you looked, even if you were indecisive about how you wanted to look that day and doubtful. It was almost unfair how you could take his breath away when you did nothing and didn't even try. He felt honored to be able to watch you in your quiet, peaceful moment. You just took his breath away every time, without asking his permission.

She's a killer,

romantic lover,

there is no other,

she is my lover.

With the end of spring came a warm and certain summer. Summer is always certain, warm, sunny and pleasant. Just as with each passing day the feelings between you became certain. Because spring feelings are shy, they are born like nature to life, leaves on trees and flowers blooming. But summer feelings arouse trust and conviction.

Despite this, Spencer wanted to keep your relationship private. No, he wasn't ashamed of you or yours relationship. Having learned from the past, he preferred to keep it to them, as your little secret. He wanted to separate his relationship from his professional life, not expose you to any dangers of his job, he didn't want you to be used as his weakness one day. In his eyes you deserved this whole world and all that was kind. You deserved all kindnesses.

Unaware of anything, Derek almost fought to finally find someone for Spencer. Because how long could the young genius be alone? But every excuse Spencer made just got worse and worse, after all, he was not a master of excuses. Well, he just didn't need anyone else. You were his lover. His precious and lovely, lovely girlfriend. He always told you about Morgan's failed matchmaking attempts and you just laughed at how absurd it was.

In one of those sunny summer days when they were working a case in D.C., they went to a coffee shop, Reid's favorite coffee shop on the street corner. Crossing the threshold of the familiar place, they immediately smelled the coffee, there were no more people there than usual. Spencer immediately noticed you behind the counter, smiling as usual, wearing long, white skirt and dark blue baby tee. You were focused on making coffee and taking orders, the light blue ribbon bow pinned to your hair moved slightly with each of your graceful movements. He partially held back a smile at the sight of you, and slightly felt a sudden shiver. When you noticed him, you frowned slightly. Was this his way of hiding his relationship? Coming there with a co-worker? You immediately recognized the man he came with - Morgan. From Spencer's stories and his ramblings, you knew all of his coworkers.

Derek immediately noticed you. If he was going to keep trying to matchmake his friend, he saw another opportunity. Seeing the woman effortlessly serving customers and moving between the coffee machines and the counter, the idea immediately popped into his head. It never hurts to try, right?

As they placed their order, your expression was unwavering, you leaned slightly over the counter with a smile, not even glancing in Spencer's direction, not wanting to arouse suspicion. Their relationship wasn't public, and it hadn't started long ago, only a few months earlier. But when Morgan moved from the subject of coffee to Spencer subject without hesitation, you tried to stifle your laughter. You could see Spencer's embarrassment, god, he hated it when Derek tried to set him up again. Why is he so stubborn?

You played along.

"Oh, really? I mean, I've seen him here many times, but I haven't had a chance to talk to him much. Tell me more about him." You spoke with conviction, and Spencer surreptitiously gave you a disbelieving look. "He's really that genius?" You still pretend. You had your back turned to them and made a few coffees.

You kept up your little act until the end. Partly because it was pretty funny, partly because you hadn't yet agreed on how they wanted to reveal their relationship. You were doing quite well, considering you were playing with a profiler, you didn't arouse suspicion. When you packed the coffees into cartons with handles that held four cups, and threw the stirrers and sugars into the net, you stared at the agents. After going through everything, you pointed to the paper bag. Without thinking, you began to speak. And then you let yourself down for such a simple thing.

"Oh, I threw in two extra packets of sugar for you, Spence. Normally I would just put more sugar in your coffee, but I assumed someone else might take it." You spoke with commitment as you put the cups of warm coffee into the second carton.

"Thanks." Spencer responded with little smile. Just like you forgot about Morgan's presence.

Derek just frowned, his gaze shifting from him to you. Since they barely spoke, like you said, why the sudden concern over something as simple as sugar in coffee? Strangers? Nah, not at all. Despite his confusion, he didn't try to push the subject. You exchanged a few more small, polite conversations with them before they left the coffee shop. Pretending you didn't know Specter was, ironically, quite good. Spencer glanced over his shoulder once more, and you waved at him with usual, warm smile.

The place of the case was not far, so they returned on foot. The summer sun was pleasantly warm, and the trees by the sidewalk cast shadows and a light wind. They tried to walk as fast as they could, but for Morgan there were interesting and more interesting cases.

Derek immediately looked his way, his expression still questioning. “Okay, pretty boy, what’s this about?” He asked directly. Of course, subtlety wasn’t his strong suit.

“What’s this about, what?” Reid asked with obvious embarrassment.

"The woman. The woman from the coffee shop. Don't tell me every coffee shop employee remembers you that way. 'Spence, I threw more sugar for you." His words were all direct, unvarnished. He kind of imitated your sweet voice when he said words similar to yours, teasing Spencer.

"It's... well... she- let's just not talk about it." Spencer responded with a more hesitant, uncertain tone. He didn't know that this was how their relationship would see the light of day, but their visit to this coffee shop had to end this way, he could feel it.

"Why not, what could be so terrible about it?" Morgan asked. He sensed Spencer's nervousness and this was the perfect opportunity to tease him.

Spencer felt like his back was against an imaginary wall. All the explanations seemed awful now. Besides, he had so many excuses lately. And yes, he was running out of excuses. But now he didn't have to defend himself so fiercely. Usually he had to say no, because his friend wanted to put another woman in front of him. But now he wanted to put you in front of him. Was it possible to set Spencer up with his own girl? He quickly reminded himself that the question still remained unanswered. Usually he had a million words and two million thoughts a second. But now it was all for nothing. It was always like this when it came to you, you were the killer of any ability he had to speak or think. He swallowed hard.

"Don't be surprise, okay? I don't need it. It's, uhh... She was- I mean she is- Of course she is, not was, my girlfriend. But technically speaking, I prefer to say that I'm her boyfriend and not that she is my... girlfriend." His explanations became a bit convoluted, and he started babbling a bit out of nervousness.

Morgan didn't take his eyes off him, his sudden statement was... surprising to say the least. When had he managed to find himself a girlfriend and hide her and their relationship so well without arousing any suspicion? "Girlfriend? Real girlfriend? Look at him." He patted him on the back in a brotherly gesture, and Spencer just bowed his head with a sheepish smile. "For how long? Why didn't you tell anything?"

"Oh no, don't interrogate me."

"I'm not."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I'm not."

"Come on, pretty boy. Talk to me... or rather lover boy." He laughed and pat his shoulder with his free hand. Oh god, he loves to tease him.

Spencer sighed. "Yes, real girlfriend."

"No need to be embarrassed, that's good, really good. So no more matchmaking?"

"No, no matchmaking, ever." He still smiled sheepish. Spencer didn't want anyone else, he didn't want matchmaking, he didn't want to look for anyone else, when he had you. There is no other, you are his lover.

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [24] - Journals

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Couples can have different opinions on many things.

Word Count: 2400

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship, mentions of sex, there's a fur coat line. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

Alright.

Keeping a sex journal while you weren’t currently having sex was going to be challenging but you couldn’t let it stop you.

It was homework, and there was a reason why you had been such a perfect student back at school.

You sipped your coffee before putting it back on the kitchen island, then grabbed the paper bag to turn it over, the contents spilling onto the island, making you let out a happy noise. Stationery shopping always made you feel excited, gathering different notebooks and papers and pens, so you were beginning to feel like you were going to ace this already.

Alpine jumped on the island to inspect the pens, then smacked one off the counter with her paw.

“Alpine!” you said. “Don’t.”

“Charm I’m—” Bucky lifted his head when he reached the bottom of the stairs, then frowned, making his way to the kitchen island. “What are those?”

“Stuff for the sex journals,” you said as you opened a notebook, then closed it and tossed it at him. He caught it mid-air and looked down at it.

“This looks better than the notepad I have.”

You made a face as you lifted Alpine off the counter, then put her on the floor.

“It’s a journal,” you told him. “She didn’t say a notepad.”

“Can I borrow a pen?”

“No!” you said quickly, grabbing the multiple pens on the island. “Get your own, these are mine.”

“There are like one hundred pens here and you’re telling me—wait a second, did you get glitter pens?”

“Yeah,” you said and Bucky approached the counter, tilting his head.

“Are those stickers?”

“Mm hm,” you said as you started sorting them through color and Bucky blinked a couple of times.

“Why do you have stickers?”

“As a rating system,” you said. “I mean the journal will be detailed and whatever but I think using stars stickers for it will be useful.”

“You’ll give our sex life star ratings?” he asked as he took one of the tiny sticker sheets into his hand and you nodded your head.

“Yeah. It’s important to be organized while keeping a journal, and it’ll make it easier to read. This is how I used to study for exams as well.”

“Teacher’s pet,” he teased you and you arched a brow.

“You just lost a star.”

His eyes widened. “Wait what? No I want—I want five stars!”

“Then fucking act like it.”

Bucky licked his lips.

“So how are we going to do this?” he motioned at the journal. “Make stuff up?”

“No, we’ll just have sex because it’s a part of couple’s therapy.”

His head shot up. “I take back everything bad I said about therapy—”

“Of course we’re going to make stuff up!” you snapped, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat. “I’m not fucking you for some sort of homework, this is a business deal.”

He opened his mouth to retort but his phone started buzzing, making him look down at the screen before rejecting the call.

“So I copy off of yours?”

“I’m not going to do your homework for you,” you said. “We’ll do it together, tonight. Try to find your favorite fantasy today, it’ll make things easier.”

“It’ll make one thing harder.”

You let out a groan, rolling your eyes at him but that didn’t stop the smirk pulling at his lips. His phone started buzzing again and he made a face, then put it back into his pocket.

“Want to grab lunch in the afternoon?”

“No I’m meeting Becca,” you said, your whole attention back on the sheets of stickers again as you separated them and he stepped to press a kiss on top of your head.

“Tell Becca I said hi,” he said and you hummed as he walked out of the apartment. You could feel your cheeks burning but you frowned at yourself and Alpine jumped back on the counter, meowing at you.

“Your father is just…” you trailed off and held one of the pens so that she could smack it. “Something tells me he used to be a bad student.”

                                      *

“So yeah, my boss has been kicking my ass,” Leila said before taking a sip of her coffee and you tilted your head, stealing a look at Becca.

“And you’re letting that happen?”

“I told you!” Becca said, motioning at you and Leila let out a laugh.

“Unbelievable, both of you.”

“It’s a problem and the solution is very clear,” you said and Becca nodded.

“Exactly!”

“We’re not intimidating my boss.”

“It’s not intimidating,” Becca said. “Just…you know, a gently nudge to not push you so hard.”

“I offered Ethan the same thing,” you said. “He refused.”

“I wonder why,” Leila said and Becca heaved a sigh.

“What’s he been up to?”

“He’s very busy.”

“Still in love with you?”

“He’s not in love with me, we’re friends,” you told them and sipped your drink. “Besides, don’t get off the subject. Leila—”

“The new client is a hard ass, that’s why my boss is being uncharacteristically pushy,” she said. “It’s fine, really. How about you, how’s everything with Bucky?”

“Oh our therapist gave us this homework,” you said. “Sex journals.”

Becca shot you a puzzled look but couldn’t say anything with Leila right there so you only shook your head slightly as Leila let out a laugh.

“Do you want me to cover your ears, Bec?”

“Yeah!” she said after a beat. “Yeah no I don’t um—I don’t want to know anything about my brother’s sex life, I’ll just pretend you guys only hold hands in bed.”

“Aw sweetheart…” Leila said, patting her hand and you gave her a grin, then bit into your muffin.

“Listen, it’s just—” you started, then got distracted when you saw Ryan walk into the café. He made his way straight to the counter, clearly not having seen you or the girls, then gave his order to the barista before stepping sideways so that he could wait.

“I’ll be right back,” you told Becca and Leila, then stood up from your chair to approach him.

“Fancy seeing you here,” you said, making him turn around and he immediately straightened his back even more as if you were his commander.

“Ma’am.”

“How are you?” you asked and he gave you a faint, hesitant smile.

“I’m alright ma’am, how about you?”

“I’m good,” you said. “I haven’t had the chance to talk to you since that night at the club. Thank you, again.”

“I didn’t do anything ma’am,” he said. “I’m glad you disarmed him before he could hurt you or Mr. Barnes.”

You nodded your head.

“You know how amateurs are,” you said with a wave of your hand and he swallowed, his eyes darting over your face.

“And um…” he cleared his throat. “Are you alright, ma’am?”

“It wasn’t the first time I kicked someone’s ass—”

“No I mean,” he paused for a moment. “After the dinner?”

Ah.

The dinner your father had named Ian his heir.

Considering how happy Ian was about it and how Ryan was his right arm, you would have thought he would be very happy, perhaps just asking you to pretend to be polite but nothing in his eyes signaled insincerity. You pulled your brows together in confusion and he licked his lips.

“My apologies, it wasn’t my place—”

“No no,” you stopped him before he could finish his sentence and offered him a small smile. “No I was just surprised, that’s all. No one from my dad’s side asked me if I was alright after that dinner, so…”

He nodded his head, looking down at his boots and you took a deep breath.

“I’m fine,” you said. “And I really appreciate you asking that, it’s very nice of you. Thank you.”

His head shot up when the barista called out his name and put the coffee on the counter, and he grabbed it.

“Anyway, I shouldn’t keep you long,” you said with a smile. “Have a nice day, Ryan.”

“You too ma’am,” he said gruffly and walked out of the café while you returned to the table, Leila and Becca both watching you.

“He looks like freaking Hercules,” Leila commented and Becca let out a laugh.

“I’ll never understand why he is working for Ian.”

“Me neither,” you said with a sigh. “Anyway, what were we talking about?”

                                               *

By the time Bucky got home, it was past dinner time.

“I’m so sorry, this fucking meeting—” he said as he walked into the apartment, making you look over your shoulder from the couch. “Isn’t it weird we can’t kill people over zoom meetings?”

“I’m sure technology will get there some day,” you pointed out, sipping your wine. “I ordered sushi, it’s on the counter.”

“Awesome,” he said, getting rid of his jacket to throw it over the chair and you tried not to stare at his white button up fitting perfectly to his muscular body, then licked your lips. He pulled a chair to sit by the kitchen island and reached out to grab your journal.

“Did you write anything?”

“Nah, I was waiting for you,” you said and muted the TV, then grabbed your wine glass to make your way to him. You sat down as well, then pulled the sticker sheets and pens to yourself from the other side of the counter, taking the journal from him as well. He took chopsticks into his hand and dug into the sushi while you opened the journal, then fixed your hair.

“So?”

“Hm?”

“What is your sexual fantasy?”

Bucky chewed his bite before swallowing it, then pointed at you with the chopsticks.

“You know, when I imagined you asking me this question you weren’t wearing anything and my mouth was busy with something else.”

You tried to ignore the way your stomach did a pleasant flip, then narrowed your eyes at him.

“Bucky.”

“Why don’t you tell me your fantasies first?”

“I’m not going to tell you anything.”

“Why not?” he asked. “Aside from the obvious medieval knight thing—”

“That’s not my fantasy—you know what?” you said, grabbing your phone. “I’ll just google it and then we can decide.”

“…You’ll google sexual fantasies?” he asked with a grin on his lips. “You actually need to google it? Aw, have I ever told you how adorable you are?”

“Bucky, I’m warning you.”

“Missionary doesn’t count as a fantasy so I’m guessing yours isn’t gonna be there.”

“First of all, there’s nothing wrong with missionary, don’t blame me if you have too many issues to be able to look your partner in the eye while fucking them—”

“Whatever you say, pillow princess.”

“And I’m giving you three stars, how about that?”

He pulled his brows together, swallowing his bite in a hurry. “No!”

“Yes.”

“Absolutely not, we don’t know if we can trust the therapist or if she’s working for someone else.”

“I feel like if she was working for someone else, we’d have other problems than her thinking you’re not good in bed.”

“That’d be the biggest problem for me,” he said, his voice completely serious. “I can deal with people trying to kill me, but they can’t think my wife gives me three stars.”

 You rolled your eyes.

“Unbelievable,” you said. “Fine, I’ll give five stars to the fantasy thing but I’ll write I faked it the second time we had sex this week.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I’m not giving you five stars all the time Bucky, she’s going to know we’re lying.”

“No, none of my girlfriends have ever faked that shit, my wife sure as fuck won’t.”

You blinked a couple of times before tilting your head, a small smile pulling at your lips.

“Aw, I forget how naïve men can be about this,” you said. “Have I ever told you how adorable you are?”

He narrowed his eyes. “None of my girlfriends—”

“That’s what you think.”

“No, I know they didn’t.”

You pursed your lips, trying to keep your expression straight. “Really? And how do you know that?”

“One can tell.”

“Not really.”

“I’m not talking about porn screams all the time,” he insisted. “You can just…feel it.”

You raised your brows, smirking at him and he frowned slightly.

“Bullshit,” he said after a beat. “You can’t fake that.”

You dragged the tip of your tongue over your teeth, now grinning wide but before he could say anything else, someone knocked on the door, making both of you turn your heads. Bucky checked his wristwatch, his frown getting deeper and he pulled his gun out of his waistband, then made his way to the door with you following him. He looked through the peephole, then put his gun back into his waistband and opened it to reveal one of his bodyguards that you had met back at the club; Hannah.

“Hi Hannah!” you said, waving at her and she smiled at you.

“Mrs. Barnes,” she greeted you and turned to Bucky. “Mr. Barnes, I’m sorry to disturb you at this hour but we figured you’d want to know. There has been an attack to the Wilson territory.”

Your jaw dropped and you covered your mouth while Bucky’s shoulders tensed up.

“Sarah—?” you started, your heart beating painfully against your chest but thankfully Hannah cut you off.

“Everyone in the Wilson family is alright ma’am,” she said, making you let out a relieved breath. “It wasn’t an attack to any of their houses, just the territory.”

Bucky’s voice was stern when he spoke: “Where?”

 “One of the bars,” Hannah said. “A couple of his men got hurt, so did some civilians.”

“HYDRA,” you murmured, your jaw clenching. “Fuck.”

“Is Paul around?”

“Yes sir, he’s downstairs.”

“Okay, I’ll be right there,” Bucky said and closed the door, then turned to you but you had already turned around to make your way to the coffee table to get your gun.

“Charm, you should stay here,” Bucky said, making you look over your shoulder. “It could be dangerous.”

You arched a brow, then grabbed the fur coat on the rack to throw it over the mini silk dress you were wearing.

“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” you asked him as you pushed the gun into your handbag, then walked past him. “Let’s go.”

Bucky threw his head back and grabbed one of the car keys off the key hook, then followed you out of the apartment.

Chapter 25

[xitsensunmoon]

I know Valentine's Day has passed and I'm not even a fan but hear me out

We all know that in Help Wanted 2 Sun quite literally states that everything made in Pizzaplex is a property of Fazco, right? So he can do whatever he wants with it.

...You clean up with Sun after hours, like you always do, but today is a little bit different.

Today the daycare is covered in red and pink paper scraps, the leftovers of a few hours of Sun lecturing the kids on how to properly make Valentine cards. You could tell he wasn't in the mood because of something, but you couldn't catch why exactly without talking to him first and truly, your own mind wasn't at ease either so you left him be.

You still help him out of course, as you always do, handing him all of the kid's drawings in a pack and watching him go through them all, sorting, but then shred some. Not all of them, but quite a big chunk doesn't make it.

Probably because of how badly some of the kids tested his nerves today, part of you thinks.

But your mind leaves that thought abandoned very quickly, as you notice that he's almost done with his little routine. You wait patiently, holding one last card behind your back and when he turns back to you, clapping his hands in excitement at being done, you offer him another heart-shaped card. He snatches it with an overstretched smile plastered across his face and your heart sinks when it ends with the same fate as the ones which Sun deemed unworthy of keeping.

"No extras, told them — no extras! Faz.co is already generous enough to give those brats free paper to do their little silly confessions, I can't believe some child made two. Like they have so many loved ones?! Ha! Unacceptable, unacceptable."

He shakes his head in disapproval and dusts his hands, and it almost feels like the last card in his mind was filthy, as it was created by breaking his rules.

You look down at the brightly coloured pile of paper strips on the cushioned floor, feeling your chest tightening, but deciding against saying a thing.

A glitter pen writing in blue and yellow traces one single word, on the strip that has fallen the last.

Your name.

[inkievoid]

The Prettiest Fairy Princess

ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ʜᴏɴᴇꜱᴛʟʏ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴅᴏᴍᴇꜱᴛɪᴄ ʟᴇᴏɴ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ. ɪ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ ʜᴇʟᴘ ᴍʏꜱᴇʟꜰ.

"C'mon mommy!" Your little girl drags you to the living room, just having finished set up a "stage", 2 dining room chairs, an old pink sheet and construction paper with a background of a castle on a hill drawn in markers and crayons taped just above the sheet. It's for one of her performances she likes putting on now and again after writing her funny little stories.

Soon you're sat in the middle of the couch between her stuffed animals. Strawbeary, her large pink bear, to your right and her Bluey toy to your left. Soon a folded pieces of paper is put into the audiences hands, a crudely drawing fairy with a crown on it's head and a jumbled mess of 'The Fairy Princess' in sparkly gel pen. With enough glitter glue around the edges to choke someone to death.

"What's this?" You ask, your little one turning, now wearing what looks like mascara as a fake mustache. That old makeup you gave her really made her plays costume department thrive by the looks of it.

"It's a paybill!" She happily squeals, handing Bluey her paper.

"Playbill." You hear your husband correct her from the other room, you look into the hall wondering why he isn't being subjected to the audience like usual.

"A playbill!" She corrects herself, looking at you then back to the stage. Walking over she pushing her box of toys behind the curtain and grabs her fathers work jacket from the armchair near by. Putting it on and pushing the sleeves up to her little elbows as it swallows her. Crawling back behind the curtain her arm comes up, using Leon's flashlight and flicking it.

That's usually intermission... but God she really thought of everything.

Soon the room is filled with the sound of her ballet practice music from her room.

Ahhh, Leon must be a stage technician this time.

You hear your little one clear her throat, her tiny hand peaking above the sheet with a stuffed bunny in her hand.

"There once was a family of fairies that ruled a kingdom!" The bunny bounces slightly, fluffy ears wiggling as he's tousled around, her voice stretching with exaggeration. "In a kingdom of magical creatures! All happily living their lives as they could."

The bunny disappears, a Ken doll on a flip flop with a cotton ball pillow and tissue blanket appearing.

"But sadly, not everyone in the kingdom was doing well. The king was sick and the next heir needed to take the throne quickly before the king died. Because every marriage in the kingdom needed a royals blessing." Ken gets dropped to the floor with a clatter as the bunny appears again, the smile on your face only growing wider. Stifling a laugh as she continues.

"But there was a problem. No one in the kingdom wanted to marry the princess in line for the throne because she was different than any of the other fairy princesses..." Silence falls over the room for a few seconds. You hear shuffling, your daughters head poking out from behind the curtain towards the hall.

"Daddy, that's where you come in!" She harshly whispers before moving back into place.

"Sorry!" Settling in she repeats her line again.

"But there was a problem. No one in the kingdom wanted to marry the princess in line for the throne because she was different than any of the other fairy princesses."

You hear foot steps as your attention turns to the hall doorway as your husband steps through. You swallow your bottom lip, covering your mouth with your hand as you lean on your knees.

"oh my god..."

There Leon stood, your daughters bright white fairy wings on his back, straps stretched out way too far on him, the brightest pink lipstick you use to own smeared across his mouth and her princess tiara from a tea set she was given as a gift on his head. You desperately want to laugh at him but you can't. It would upset your daughter or worse... Make her cry.

You don't want to make your daughter cry.

"She was too tall for the other fairies to want to marry her!" You pull your hand from your mouth, gaining your control again. You mouth an 'I love you ' to Leon as he crosses his arms, not irritated but unamused, making the straps somehow stretch more against his shoulders. Your attention turns back to the bunny narrating the play.

"So the princess was sad and everyday she'd go to the pond not far from her castle. And sit with her only friend." The bunny dips down, being replaced by a frog plush, starting to bounce as your daughter spoke.

"Oh princess, why are you so sad?" Leon turns towards the frog, trying to put on his most delicate voice possible.

"No one wants to marry me frog. I just want someone to love me and... Help me protect my kingdom!" You let out a tiny giggle at his line stumble. He definitely wouldn't be winning a Tony anytime soon.

"I know what you need!" The frog sways energetically as he looks around. "I know of a place where you can have your wish granted."

The frog disappears and the bunnies back.

"So the fairy princess followed the frogs instructions to a wishing well in the middle of the woods. There she took out a coin, held it tight and threw it into the well while wishing for what she wanted most." Leon fished into his jeans and pulled out what looked like a button, tossing it behind the curtain.

"As she threw the coin a short handsome man came from the trees." Your daughter moves, fixing her fathers jacket back in place as she came to the front of the curtain.

"Who are you?" Says the very pretty fairy princess. Your daughter look up at Leon, face scrunched in what you guessed was supposed to be an angry expression.

"I'm the giant of this forest! What're you doing near my home!? Aren't you the kings daughter?" She asserts her voice to try sounding like a grown man but just ends up sounding like she's choking on something. You can't help but let out a tiny laugh and thankfully she's too busy with line delivery she doesn't seem to notice.

"I am the kings daughter! And you're a giant? But you're so small?" Leon glances down at his daughter, covering his own mouth as he tries keeping composure. She stomps her feet, readying herself to deliver her next line.

"Everyone says that I'm too small! I wish I could be bigger and show everyone home good I am."

"But I think you're perfectly fine the way you are. You're actually very handsome." Leon crouches down to her level, smiling at him as her eyes gleamed.

"And you're very beautiful madam. Would you like to be my wife?" Leon gasps excitedly, playing along with her enthusiasm. He always loved seeing his little girl look so excited.

"I'm not too tall for you?" The giant wraps his arms around the princess, hugging her tightly as he's hoisted into her arms. Leon carries her into the hallway and you raise your hands, about to clap when she rushes back in behind the curtain. Hoisting the bunny up.

"And so the giant and the fairy princess got married. Saving her kingdom and getting her fathers approval. Everyone lived happily ever after until the king died. The End!"

You start clapping as you stand up from the couch, your daughter coming out to take a bow, Leon coming back around the corner. He takes a little bow even before you get to your kids level.

"Honey, that was so good! Thank you for front row seats." She's jumping excitedly and smiles even wider when there's a knock at the door.

"Uncle Chris!" She screams running out of the living room. Leon freezes, staring at you while you stand.

"Chris is here?!" You look at him with a smirk.

"The boys are sleeping over tonight... Did you not remember?" Leon shakes his head starting to make a break for the hall.

"Uh, uh! I already texted Chris and he wants to see his nieces show... I didn't know you were gonna be in it though." You snort, covering your mouth as Leon looks at the hallway mirror and seems himself.

"Oh my God..." He looks mortified, knowing he's never gonna hear the end of this.

"Don't be so upset. At least you're the prettiest fairy princess in the whole house~"

[dreamgrlarchive]

A Prissy Girl’s Guide to Fall

back by popular demand, i’m here with another prissy girl guide! this post is a bit late for the fall but it’ll allow you to finish the season off in a pretty fashion, and transition to the winter smoothly. i’ll be discussing the look i’ve been adorned in as of late and my fav products i’ll be using for the spirit of fall! 💓

what’s the look this fall?

the look this season is “divalicious barbie.” voluminous hair, tapered square nails and fur details + neutral color palettes. add in a few pops of pink and some sparkly detailz and you got my look this fall. “sexy chic.” i’ve been really leaning into the vibe of a runway supermodel diva emulsion. as you may have seen, my birthday outfit drew from many inspirations, focally the early nineties alaia runway shows. just immense glamour, class and girliness with a healthy dose of sexy.

“it's officially fall bbys. uggs, tracksuits, sew ins are in”

“in are warm scents, fur, leopard prints, brown lip gloss with voluminous blowouts for the fall to enhance my diva essence!”

- @realprissygrl on twitter 🎀

first and foremost…

the weather is turning so a lot of us are catching colds. take care of your health and rest. protect your immune system and dress according to weather. i almost always get sick around late september/early october and its because of the dip my immune system takes due to the change in climate.

preparation

some of you are in school like me. one of the reasons the fall is my fav season is because it’s time to get back to the basics. you should be developing new study routines around this time or perfecting the ones you have already

new school supplies + stationery. pretty girls deserve to stay stocked up on glitter ink and fuzzy pens

start saving money for the holiday season

get a handle on your halloween look early so not to scramble when the day comes

stock up on tea, immune boosters like emergen-c and medicine

start going outside in the morning to get the vitamin D and K you may lose out on as the seasons turn

set new goals and track them in a diary or planner

try to get well rested. the change from fall to winter can cause a lot of mood and energy complications due to lack of rest

essentials

a metallic pink starbucks tumbler or stanley cup

new books to read this season

chai tea and espresso for at home lattes + a pink thermos for travel (mine is a barbie pink micro shimmer one by starbucks)

hello kitty pencil caps and planners

velcro roller kit

super cute straw toppers

juicy couture laptop case for school

dry shampoo and clean paddle brush

pink ipad for productivity

victoria’s secret anything

cute hydrophobic jackets + umbrella

cute planner, i take my corset planner everywhere

clothes and accessories

warm neutrals + pink

layers, layers, layers! i’ve been pairing fur vests/cardigans, and sheer tops

cheetah and leopard print (yes they’re different lol) i’m going for the galleria chanel look this season

preppy looks! tartan, tweed and pleats have been such an essential for me on class days

cute little purses that are only big enough for your phone, lip gloss and keys. they come rhinestoned, fur trimmed or beaded and go very well with preppy lookz

chocolate brown accessories and layers

rhinestones and pearls add the perfect diva touch to any look

hoops 4ever

diamond studs for when your hair is pulled back, the prettiest detail ever

velour tracksuits

shimmery neutral pieces

feathers and gold jewelry to achieve that regine hunter/hilary banks aesthetic

fur trims on sheer tops

fuzzy trimmed half jackets

neutral toned designer tote bags

leopard print totes

blacked out shades

berets

sheer tights including tights with patterns like lace and stripes

ted baker arycon bags. they’re affordable and super freaking cute

fuzzy knitted pieces

knee high socks

cute little pumps + kitten heels

leather booties

uggs… obviously

medium telfar in either ballerina, bubblegum or gold

rubber boots with cute details like metal buttons or fur

furry moon boots

apple watch + charm bracelet stacking

beauty

brown + pink all season. cinnamon strawberry dessert girl

tape ins + sew ins or clip ins for a budget

soft matte makeup. not too matte (winter) and not dewy (summer)

neutral eyeshadow with a pink glossy lip

voluminous side parted hair with velcro roller curls OR

pin straight silk presses with a middle part

adequate moisture in hair is imperative to ensure hairstyles last long and stay sleek. if my hair reverts too fast i know it’s because its dry

sparkly hair clips

deep pink, mauve and berry blushes

lip balms like tree hut, summers friday and patrick ta

high ponies and half up half down stylez

long curly lashes. my favs are by kiss and lilly lashes or sold on amazon in the pink packaging

invest in a metal roller brush (ulta has super cute pink ones omg) OR a round brush blow dryer to add body to hair

makeup by pat mcgrath and patrick ta for sparkly lookz

beauty blender cleanser is my fav for cleaning my brushes

lip glosses + lipstick in nude pink, nude, deep brown, and baby pink

tapered square french tipz and nude nails

eyeshadow palettes with blacks, reds, browns, grays, and creams. my favs rn are naughty nude and new nude by huda, glam palette by natasha denona and the master mattes by mario

claw clips have been my fav for cute updos

warm scents with notes of wood, oud, musk, cinnamon, pastry, soft florals and brown sugar

smoky eyes + smudged liner + wings

[libbyfandom]

Soft Modern!Mizu Headcanons

Loves ASMR. Likes Japanese soft spoken ASMR. There’s a nice older woman ASMRtist on Youtube that reminds her of how her mom would speak when she was little.

Has a plague doctor plushie.

Very much into the cottagecore aesthetic. Loves the idea of having a quiet little stone cottage with ivy growing up the side, shutter windows, and a little garden behind.

Speaking of gardening, her adoptive father taught her how to garden when she was small. He’d raised her on the smell of wet soil and the feeling of digging her little hands through to pull up the vegetables. She doesn’t have room for a garden in her little college apartment, but she does have a windowsill planter where she grows basil and rosemary for cooking.

Curls up in fetal position when napping.

Uses scrunchies to tie her hair up. Blue and black are the most common colors.

Mizu follows hopecore stuff on every social media platform and saves her favorite quotes and videos to a folder in her phone.

Mizu’s first sleepover is in college with you and Akemi. Akemi got all of you matching pajamas but in different colors and ya’ll made cookies and watched childhood movies Mizu’s never seen like Barbie. And I mean the CLASSIC Barbie movies like "Rapunzel" and "Princess and the Pauper". She makes lighthearted, snarky comments the first half of the movies but by the end you see how her eyes are bright as she sits in front of the TV.

Ringo taught her about wishing on dandelions. If she doesn’t pick them to use herself when she sees them, she saves them for you or her friends.

She’ll doodle on your arm with pen when she’s bored in the one class you share together.

She’s not the baby of her friend group, she’s the second youngest, right before Akemi. But she’s the baby of the group. It’s just, no one outright tells her so she doesn’t get defensive. Akemi will braid her hair for her before kenjutsu practice, because she never learned how. Ringo will always keeps snacks in his bag for her, and pulls them out when he sees her holding her stomach with the slight pinching of her eyes hinting that she’s upset and pained. Taigen and her are, you know, but when he sees her in a four v one fight against upperclassman he jumps at one of the guys, swinging without hesitation.

Mikio never got her flowers. But when roses show up on her kitchen table with a note in your handwriting, she has a moment where her heart is fluttering. Her eyes close as she brings one close and inhales its floral perfume with a soft smile.

Mizu drinking a milkshake.

She hung fairy lights on the ceiling of her room.

One time for a college event Akemi absolutely doused her hair with silvery spray on glitter. Her raven hair ended up sparkling like the night sky and she got so many compliments she started getting flustered. She'd hide behind Ringo and Taigen when she would see groups of girls walking by that would gasp at how pretty her hair looked and come closer to either compliment her or ask her where she got the glitter.

[envysparkler]

What do you think each of the bats go to "I'm to bored to pay attention to you speak" doodle is?

(for instance I'm a corner squiggle truther)

Brucie: surprisingly good caricatures of annoying board members in said annoying board meetings. Lucius keeps them in a folder.

Batman: surprisingly good caricatures of annoying Justice Leaguers in said annoying Justice League meetings. Clark always steals them after to frame them.

Tim: his doodles inevitably turn into embellished Robin Rs, so he sticks to dismantling pens to avoid the embarrassment. (the doodling started long before he was Robin.)

Dick: doesn't draw. does paper origami. can make impossibly tiny cranes. no loose sheet of paper is safe from him. once did it to a document Bruce was supposed to sign. that board meeting certainly wasn't boring.

Jason: stick figures in a variety of situations. post his return as Hood, most of the situations end with the Joker somehow dying. graphically (pun intended). Harley keeps a collection of them.

Damian: absurdly vivid and detailed pictures of whoever is around him. the others wait with bated breath to find out who he's drawing so they can steal the picture to keep for themselves. Tim did it once and Damian nearly burned down his room to get it back.

Barbara: Fibonacci spirals. freehand. (the GCPD absolutely used to think that Gordon was part of some secret conspiracy because they kept cropping up on his paperwork.)

Steph: fancy Ss in different styles. sometimes colored. occasionally, if she's really bored, they'll involve glitter. when she brings out the hot glue gun, things have reached critical boredom.

Cass: mimics whoever's closest. is absurdly good at it too. and not by looking at what they're doodling but by watching their hands. once managed to copy Damian's drawing perfectly and only then realized he was drawing her. (copying him drawing her copying him drawing her copying him--)

Alfred: "I am not paid to doodle, Master Bruce." (it's elaborate cakes.)

Bonus Villain Edition:-

Selina: cats. always cats. occasionally diamonds. but usually cats.

Talia: flowers. not generic ones either, but fully detailed with shading and everything. Bruce glanced over once (in a boring League class, Ra's kept the resulting caricature) and was unsurprised to find her drawing nightshade.

Deathstroke: the Titans all picked up on Dick's habit of paper origami and Slade refuses to admit he does it too. he destroys all the ones he makes. (there's some safely hidden in a fortified safe house. every now and again, a new tiny crane joins the collection.)

Harley: Rorschach Blots.

Ivy: "waste paper? for doodling??"

Joker: the one and only time some bright Arkham psychiatrist decided to have the Joker try 'art therapy', the psychiatrist ended up being committed themself and the warden ordered all sheets of paper in the vicinity burned.