#this bracelet thing is getting out of hand

[alwaysmaybank]

not enough, until it was

soft!bf!rafe x reader

warnings: barely proofread, i think thats it!

based on this ask! hope this is what you wanted ml!

im making a rafe cameron taglist because a lot of people seemed to like soft rafe hours. tell me If you want to be added! (thank you SO much for the love on soft rafe hours! it was my first time writing a blurb or whatever you wanna call it so I didn't know whether you would like it or not. thank you!!)

summary: after a jealous argument at a bonfire party, rafe turns to gifts instead of words, hoping to mend what he broke. but you’re not looking for pretty things—you want honesty, vulnerability, and the apology he’s never been taught how to give.

more under the cut!

you and rafe found yourselves at a cozy bonfire party, a gathering he had personally invited you to. the night was vibrant, filled with laughter, the warm glow of the fire casting a soft light on smiling faces. the air was thick with the scent of charred marshmallows and the distant sound of music. at one moment, rafe left to go get drinks, and in the blink of an eye, he spotted you talking with a guy he didn't recognise. whether it was a shared laugh or a fleeting touch that lingered just a moment too long, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease. rafe wasn't typically known for his jealousy, but when it came to you, it felt almost like second nature.

as the night wore on, the atmosphere shifted, filled with the tension of unspoken words and lingering glances. rafe's mind raced with thoughts that turned into sharp comments like "are we really doing this again?", "that didn’t seem like a friend to me," and "are you serious?" you responded to his questions with silence, and he retreated to the couch, leaving a rift that hung in the air.

the next morning, you woke up to find a small, neatly wrapped box resting on your bedside table—a delicate bracelet peeked through the folds of the tissue paper. was this his attempt at an apology? the thought made your chest tighten. with the bracelet in hand, you strode into the living room, where rafe sat, his gaze focused on the news, the familiar look of calm on his face.

"what is this?" you asked, holding the bracelet out towards him.

"a gift," he replied, his voice low and seemingly unbothered, yet the tension was palpable.

"a gift for what?" you pressed, a mix of anticipation and frustration coursing through you.

"because of last night," he mumbled, shifting slightly.

“an apology?” you scoffed, disbelief dripping from your words. “this isn’t good enough.”

for a fleeting moment, he paused, contemplation weighing heavily in his silence. words? he couldn't.

"baby, you know I can't—"

you cut him off, sensing his vulnerability. "you can… and you will," you asserted, your voice unwavering. "no matter how long it takes."

so, you waited. each morning brought a new gift—a pair of glimmering earrings, a stylish dress, or stunning new heels—all beautiful, yet lacking the sincerity you craved. you held your ground, refusing to accept material gestures as substitutes for genuine emotion.

then one morning, the cycle stopped. you stirred from sleep to find rafe beside you, his arms fiercely wrapped around your waist, as if you were the only anchor in a turbulent sea. the intimacy of the moment was tempting—part of you wanted to sink back into the comfort of slumber and let him rest undisturbed. but this wasn’t truly an apology.

with gentle movement, you shifted, waking him up.

“hey, baby,” he murmured, that familiar lopsided smirk surfacing on his lips.

“are you going to apologise now?” you asked, your tone edged with curiosity. what was so difficult about saying the words?

“i already did,” he replied softly.

“the gifts and… this,” you breathed, gesturing to him still holding you close, “aren’t an apology!”

though he kept his arms around you, a frown creased his brow. “i didn’t know how else to show you.”

“then say it! don’t buy anything. don’t wrap it up in a little box and leave it on my pillow, rafe. i don’t want things; i want you. i want to hear you say it out loud.”

he searched your eyes, as if the words lodged in his throat were somehow foreign, a language he had never mastered. rafe had never had to learn the nuances of real apologies—not from his father, and certainly not from anyone else.

“i was…” he began, pausing as if the admission caused him physical pain. “i was scared. scared of losing you, scared of looking foolish, scared of being… replaceable.”

“so, you picked a fight with me instead?” you questioned, frowning.

“yeah,” he admitted, his voice cracking ever so slightly. “because if i say i’m jealous, you’ll think i don’t trust you. if i say i’m scared, you’ll think i’m weak. so i bought gifts, believing that would somehow fix things. i give, hoping it will cover the mess i made.”

you took in his words, feeling a mixture of understanding and sympathy. he was finally here—fully present without the facade of charm or humor.

“rafe cameron,” you said softly, “you’re allowed to be scared. but you don’t get to punish me for it.”

his eyes softened. “i know.”

“then say it.”

he swallowed hard, and after what felt like an eternity, he finally managed to voice it: “i’m sorry. for picking a fight when i should’ve just told you how i felt. for ruining the night. for hurting you.”

you nodded—not out of triumph, but because you recognized the struggle it took for him to get those words out. “thank you.” leaning in, you pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, and he exhaled as if he had been holding his breath for days.

“and i’m still keeping the dress,” you added, a teasing tone creeping into your voice.

“that’s fair,” he replied, his arms tightening around you as if to solidify the moment. “it looked even better on you than i imagined.”

check out more of my works! my masterlist

[mosskingcreator]

Jason racked his brain for whoever might’ve given this kid drugs. Sure he might’ve stolen them, a few of the more desperate addicted kids were willing, but this kid wasn’t skinny enough for that yet. 

He didn’t have the sunken eyes or cheeks, nor poorly colored skin of a chronic user. 

Jason finished fishing the narcan out of his pouch and pressed it into the kid’s thigh. 

No tract marks on his arms either, narrowing it down to either something ingested or smoked. 

The young boy, seeming only a few years older than Damian, so probably around Tim’s age, went stiff again. 

More saliva dribbled down his chin as Jason cradled his head before it could smash on the ground or walls. 

Jason had moments to move as the kid’s stomach rolled violently, and vomit came pouring out of his mouth. 

Red and watery, stained with blood, but no food. A lack of appetite perhaps? And depending on how long ago he took the drugs it could’ve dissolved in his stomach before it was vomited up. 

Jason just continued to rub at his back to stimulate breathing, and he pressed his fingers to the kids neck. 

“‘m sorry,” the kid slurred again, murmuring it over and over with lessening coherency. 

“Hey kid, save your breath, it’s okay. We’re not mad at you.” Jason might be mad at whoever gave this kid the drugs, but he wouldn’t take that out on the kid. 

The kid began to relax again, and Jason glanced at his watch. Only a few seconds of seising this time, most likely not dangerous but he should still get the kid admitted. 

An awful gurgling sound and the kid was coughing back up blood some more. The after shocks were brutal, causing shaking and twitching in the kid.

“Alrighty kid, you got anywhere you need to be?”

“No,” he rasped, wiping his mouth along his hand and sleeve.

“Alright, can I pick you up?”

The kid glanced at him warily, but still nodded.

“Why?”

“Just want to make sure you’re okay,” Jason replied, scooping the kid up, “I’ve got a couple questions too.” The kid stiffened so quickly he had to take a quick check that there wasn’t another seizure. 

“I’m not mad at you, just wanna make sure the Ally’s safe. Ain’t gonna stay safe if kids are having seizures on corners.”

The kid relaxed into him, and leaned his head onto Jason’s chest. 

“Don’ worry. Just a medical thing,” the kid lifted up his wrist, before pausing and moving to the other. “Oh, right… got mugged and don’t got it no more.”

Okay, so not drug overdose, that’s good. The medical bracelet being stolen was a different problem. Might have to re-remind some people about rules involving kids and medical things.

The kid started to nod off on Jason’s chest as he settled onto his motorcycle. 

“Kid, can you count to a hundred for me?”

The kid did so, starting at zero and muttering numbers as it increased. 

Jason started up his bike and started off towards his current base. 

“Hold on kid, you’ll be alright.”

DpxDc #17

What a (death) day.

Jason was going to kill whoever was selling drugs to kids in the alley.

The boy on the ground was shaking, barely breathing, and coughing up blood. The poor guy was coming down from a seizure, almost suffocating on his own spit.

Luckily, Jason saw him on time and was able to help put him in a safe position. He almost had a heart attack seeing a kid having an overdose in a lonely alley.

He rubbed the kid's back, trying to stimulate breathing, begging internally for his heart to keep beating.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."

The black-haired teenager kept mumbling between breaths, muscles twitching like a dying bug.

Jason could only try and help as much as he could. He wasn't going to call an ambulance, since unfortunately, there was a high chance that his call was going to be rejected due to the location and nature of the emergency.

Drug overdose was too common; they would tell you to make sure they don't choke and hang up on you.

"I'm sorry..."

"Shh... It's alright, you're going to be okay..."

.

.

.

What a shitty, shitty day.

It hit him like a truck, the pain in his chest.

He was just walking back to his hotel room after visiting Gotham University, when it started.

Danny compleatly fucking forgot about his death day.

He was able to drag himself into an empty alley, trying not to die of embarrassment as he was starting to feel his arm tingle.

This was going to suck.

[cinnamongrl2006]

Omg can you please please do older bf/sugar daddy Bruce I absolutely love ur work

Older bf Bruce Wayne x fem!reader

a/n: Sorry for my absence, life has been beating me up (quite literally), but I am back in full swing. As always, the age gap is legal, I feel the need to mention it. cw: fluff, age gap, insecurities (?), smut in part 2 summary: Bruce takes you out on a date for your birthday, but when people begin to look at you wrong he takes matters into his own hands.

part 1 | part 2

You weren’t completely sure how your arrangement with Bruce had begun, but somewhere between flirty conversations at events and muttered hellos in passing, the two of you had fallen into a steady rhythm. What started as a simple acquaintance had blossomed into a relationship.

So now there you were, standing on the street outside of your apartment, phone in hand, carelessly scrolling as you waited for his car to show up. You heard it first, roaring from down the street, and then you saw it— saw him, as he rolled the window down to greet you— park in front of you.

He got out of the car and jogged towards you, embracing you once he got to you.

"How's the birthday girl doing?" He spoke into your hair, breathing you in.

"Better now that you're here." You mutter, face smushed against his shirt.

He led you back to the car, opened the door and helped you settle against the seat before jogging back to the driver's seat.

You rested your head against the car window, watching the city streets, the night lights, the traffic go by. Bruce's hand laid steadily atop your thigh, his touch warm and grounding. He squeezed your flesh periodically, as if to remind you he was there.

"I got you something, but you'll have to see it later, 'kay?" He mumbled, looking over at you, the red light of the stoplight made his sharp features stand out, his gaze almost aggressive.

"Then why tell me now?"

"Because I don't want my girl thinking I'm not spoiling her. I'd just...rather do it somewhere private." He winked at you before hitting the throttle again once the lights went green.

The first thing you noticed when you walked into the restaurant was the low lights and the soft jazz music playing. Then, you noticed the people—couples having dinner, just like you and Bruce—except they didn't look like you, not really. The women were middle-aged, dressed in classy pearl-colored dresses with tastefully painted nails, their skin pulled taut and diamonds adorning their wrists. Their husbands looked just like your boyfriend.

Bruce had assured you many times you belonged there, but standing there, waiting for the maitre'd to come over, in your high heels, red dress on hugging your waist, you couldn't have felt more out of place.

He squeezed your hand arrhythmically, brought it up to his lips, kissed your knuckles. When you did nothing in response he looked over at you, one brow raised in concern. You didn't meet his gaze, to engrossed in a staring contest with a woman in some other table. Way to spend your birthday.

Once the maitre'd got back to where you stood he excused his absence and led you to your table, in a secluded booth, away from prying eyes. Bruce had always valued privacy, more so when he started dating you, the backlash came almost instantly after your first public appearance together, and then never really stopped; you'd learned to ignore it, Bruce did the best he could to help you avoid it.

Throughout the dinner you felt their eyes on you, like phantoms poking at your skin, vipers biting at your flesh. You knew the looks you were getting without even having to turn your head.

Bruce held your hand on the table, his fingers, curious, played with your rings, your acrylics, your bracelets. He failed to notice the way your heart sped up and your eyes found solace in your lap, the way your palms began to sweat and your cheeks reddened. At least you weren't fucking crying, you thought, but then the waiter brought a birthday cake, and more eyes were on you, and you swore you were happy but god could people mind their business?

Bruce noticed after taking a photo of you, trying your hardest to smile for him, he was so happy, smiling softly under the low lights of the restaurant, his gaze sticky and thick like caramel— and then he noticed, your smile faltered for a second, your brows knit with discomfort as you tugged on your clothes, your hair, the stupid napkin on your lap that wasn't smooth enough, why wasn't it smooth enough.

"Hey," His deep voice broke you out of your worries, "let's leave. I'll get the check, you wait in the car, how does that sound?"

"Yeah, fine. Sorry, I just—"

"—got overwhelmed, I know. I know you." His voice was authoritative and sweet, in a way that made you feel protected, safe, like you could just let him take the lead and you'd get to where you needed because he always looked out for you.

You got up from your chair, gathered your stuff and exited the restaurant, trying your hardest not to break in there. The tears came as you sat in the car waiting for Bruce. You saw him move around the establishment, talking to servers and the maitre'd, from the stern look on his face it seemed like he was arguing. He always did that, got into passive aggressive arguments to defend you.

And then he walked out, winking at you, smirk on his face.

"Bought the place. We'll do some...staff rearrangements, change some of the rules...ban a few people, maybe next time we'll be able to actually enjoy our dinner in there."

Your tears dried down almost instantly, sobs replaced by giggles. "B, that's so reckless! You can't just buy a restaurant because someone in there looked at me wrong." "Yes, I can," He hummed. "It's your birthday." He argued.

Bruce had never been one for bold displays of affection— you sometimes swore he had the emotional range of a wet wipe— and he found that spending his money was a way for him to demonstrate he loved without having to risk anything. That's why you'd learned moments like this mattered, where he bought a restaurant out of spite for all of the clientele, threatening to ban them if you wanted to dine there again.

But what you liked the most was when he wasn't trying to prove he could love, when he simply did it. When he took pictures of you when you were sleeping or eating, or sitting in the yard drinking coffee in the morning, pictures he took to remember how his heart had done a little flip when he saw you like that.

When he struggled trying to post them on social media, because you looked so beautiful the whole world had to know. His usually deft fingers, so smooth when it came to Batman technology, felt too big, too heavy for instagram.

The car ride back to the manor was quiet, his hand traced small circles on the flesh of your thigh all the way. He was at your side, picking you up into his arms immediately after parking the car and killing the engine, apologetic look on his face.

"I really wanted it to be a good birthday for you, sweet thing, I'm sorry." He pressed a kiss to the side of your neck as he carried you upstairs.

"B, don't say that, it wasn't bad. I was with you."

Once he got to the bedroom he set you down on the bed, beside a pink box with black bows on it— your birthday present, lingerie. How on brand for him— but his gaze was stuck on you.

His hands caressed your ankles before he helped you kick off your shoes, finally looking away from you, offering the pink box to you by setting it on your lap.

"You don't have to wear it tonight, we can just put you to bed and leave it for tomorrow, but I thought you'd look beautiful in that." He whispered on your ear from over your shoulder.

You nodded silently and undid the bows, opening the box to reveal a black lace matching set, pretty soft pink bow at the front of the panties.

"I'll go put it on."

"Okay." He kissed the exposed skin of your back, and tapped you in the ass once you'd gotten up from the bed.

────୨ৎ────

co-written with @cherrycolaheartss tags: @laceyfaeryy, @resting-confused-face

[pankesitopank]

Ateez reaction to their girl bestie being sad because she’ll “never get to wear jewelry from her boyfriend” since she’s never been in a relationship before? I’m all for secret crush ifykyk 👀

Cw:fluff fluff fluff!!!!!, secret crush (them to you), emotional comfort, best friends to lovers kinda, soft angst, slow burn feelings, love confessions (sort of)

note: OMG IT TOOK ME SO LONG WITH THIS. SORRY. THIS WEEK KILLED ME.

Sorry, sorry, sorry, again, but between not feeling inspired, I had to take the worst exam of MY LIFE!!! I hope it's what you had in mind, for me it ended up really cute.

I'm on my way to finish the other requests I have left!!!!!!!

HONGJOONG

You didn’t mean to say it aloud.

It slipped past your lips like a secret too heavy to hold in your chest, quiet and fragile in the soft lighting of Hongjoong’s studio, where you always ended up when the weight of the world felt just a little too sharp. He’d turned in his chair when he heard you sigh—deep and hollow, like something had cracked inside you—and asked, in that careful voice of his, “You okay?”

You shrugged, chewing on your nail. “Just tired.”

But he didn’t look away.

And that’s when it came out, barely more than a whisper. “ fuck I’ll probably never get to wear anything from a boyfriend.”

He blinked. Once. Twice. And you immediately regretted it, eyes wide as you rushed to explain.

“I mean—I didn’t mean it like that. It’s stupid. I just—like, I see all these girls getting bracelets or necklaces or cute rings and they always look so happy and loved and I’ve never—” You stopped yourself, suddenly hating your own vulnerability. “Forget it.”

But Hongjoong didn’t forget things like that.

He turned back to his desk slowly, like he was giving you space, but you noticed the way his fingers fidgeted with the chain around his neck—something he did when he was thinking too fast to speak. You assumed the moment had passed. That he’d let it go.

He didn’t.

A week later, he texted you late at night. Come by the studio if you’re still up.

You found him sitting on the couch, a velvet pouch between his fingers.

“What’s this?” you asked, confused but curious.

He looked up at you, expression unreadable for a heartbeat before softening. “Open it.”

Inside was a delicate silver bracelet—dainty, feminine, with tiny charms that matched your aesthetic so well it stunned you. A small crescent moon. A charm shaped like a tiny pen. A heart. It was exactly the kind of thing you would’ve chosen for yourself if you’d ever dared to imagine someone giving you one.

You looked up at him, jaw slack. “Hongjoong, what is this?”

He leaned back, arms crossed—not smug, but careful. Guarded. “It’s not boyfriend jewelry. Not unless you want it to be,” he said, voice rougher than usual. “But I don’t like hearing you say things like that. Because you deserve that kind of love. And if no one else is brave enough to give it to you…” He swallowed. “I am.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Because suddenly, that night in the studio didn’t feel like a casual comment anymore. It felt like the turning point.

And when he clasped the bracelet around your wrist himself—his hands shaking just a little—you knew this wasn’t just a gift.

It was a confession.

SEONGHWA

Seonghwa noticed the shift before you ever spoke it.

You were quieter than usual, lingering in doorways like your thoughts were too loud to settle. It wasn’t dramatic or attention-seeking—if anything, it was subtle. But Seonghwa was the kind of person who paid attention to silences more than words.

So when you looked down at a display case in a store and mumbled, “I guess I’ll never get something like that from someone,” he didn’t laugh it off.

He looked at you, really looked at you, and asked gently, “Why not?”

You shrugged, like it didn’t matter. “I’ve never even been in a relationship. No one’s ever looked at me like that.”

He didn’t reply at first.

Just walked next to you a little more quietly than before, thoughtful in that way that meant something was building in his mind.

Two days later, you found a small white box on your doorstep, tied with a silver ribbon. No note. No explanation. But the moment you opened it, your heart stopped.

Inside was a pair of earrings—small, intricate, and glimmering with soft white stones that caught the light like dew. Beautiful. Understated. Exactly your style.

You didn’t have to wonder for long.

Your phone buzzed with a message from Seonghwa.

“They reminded me of you. I hope that doesn’t sound weird.”

You blinked down at your phone, warmth blooming in your chest.

“It doesn’t,” you typed back. “They’re beautiful.”

Another pause, then his reply came.

“I think you deserve to feel beautiful. Even if no one’s said it enough.”

Your hands trembled a little as you picked up the earrings again.

Because Seonghwa didn’t say things unless he meant them with his whole heart.

And maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t just a kind gesture.

Maybe it was a beginning.

YUNHO

You’d meant it as a joke. Sort of.

You and Yunho were walking through a mall, passing a cute boutique with charm necklaces, and you’d pointed at a heart-shaped locket in the window with a dramatic sigh. “Imagine getting something like that from a boyfriend. Must be nice.”

Yunho laughed, bumping your shoulder. “You’re so dramatic.”

You snorted. “I’ll die single and jewel-less. The curse of being everyone’s favorite ‘just a friend.’”

He rolled his eyes, but you missed the way his smile faltered.

That night, he stayed up scrolling online stores, second-guessing every color and style. It was insane—he knew it. But the idea of you feeling unloved made something twist painfully in his chest.

A week later, you were hanging out in his room when he suddenly shoved a little bag into your hands.

“What’s this?” you asked, frowning.

“Just open it.”

Inside was a charm necklace—simple but meaningful. A tiny star and a single letter charm. Yours.

You stared. “Yunho…”

He scratched the back of his neck. “It’s not a big deal. I just—I don’t like hearing you talk like that. Like no one wants to give you things. Because I do. I’ve wanted to for a while.”

Your heart nearly burst.

Because Yunho never said things without laughter in his voice—but this time, he was completely serious.

And you didn’t even notice when your fingers slid into his, holding tight.

YEOSANG

Yeosang didn’t say anything when you told him.

You were lying on the couch beside him, scrolling through pictures of couple jewelry on social media and murmured, half-laughing, “damn i don't think I’ll ever get to post stuff like that… I'm kinda jel”

He didn’t tease.

Didn’t joke.

He just turned to you with that unreadable look—the one that made your heart race for reasons you tried hard to ignore—and nodded slowly.

“You’ll get it one day,” he said softly. “Someone’s going to see you and just… know.”

You scoffed. “nah I think I’m invisible when it comes to love, relationships and all that, you know?”

Yeosang frowned, then looked down at his phone, typing something quickly. He left the room for what it felt like 20 or even 30 minutes.

And returned with a tiny velvet box in hand.

He placed it in your lap without ceremony, settling beside you like it was nothing.

You opened it carefully, and nearly choked.

Inside was a gold-plated bracelet, etched with tiny stars and the first letter of your name. Dainty. Beautiful. Thoughtful.

You stared at him. “Yeosang—what—why?”

He didn’t meet your eyes at first. Just said, “Because you’re not invisible. And I hate the idea of you thinking no one sees how special you are.”

Your voice cracked. “Is this… friend jewelry?”

His gaze finally met yours, something burning beneath the surface. “Only if you want it to be.”

And you knew, right then, that he’d been watching you all along. Quietly. Deeply. Hoping for the chance to give you more than you ever thought to ask for.

SAN

You said it while you were fiddling with your necklace, eyes glazed over with that far-off, sad little smile San hated more than anything.

“Sometimes I think I’ll never get to wear something from a boyfriend… or from anyone at this point”

It wasn’t bitter. Just… resigned. Quiet. The way people say things they’ve made peace with, even though it still hurts.

San froze for a second. You didn’t notice.

Because if you had, you would’ve seen how his hand clenched around the soda can he was holding. How his smile slipped just a little. How your words—so casually dropped—landed in his chest like a stone in still water.

“Why would you think that?” he asked, carefully neutral.

You shrugged, curling your knees up to your chest. “I’ve just never dated. No one’s ever looked at me like that… like someone to love for more than… what? a month? two weeks? I don’t know”

He scoffed before he could stop himself. “That’s bullshit.”

You blinked at him.

“Seriously,” he added, this time softer. “If you think people aren’t looking at you like that, you're not looking hard enough.”

And he meant it.

Because San had looked at you like that for more than a year.

But every time he got close to telling you, something held him back. Fear, maybe. Or timing. Or that stupid, selfish part of him that wanted to stay your best friend forever if it meant never losing you.

So he said nothing.

But he did start working on something.

He’d seen the way your eyes lit up when you passed the booth at the street market that sold handmade accessories—specifically, the braided string bracelets with beads. You’d lingered there too long. Touched one. Smiled softly. Then walked away like you didn’t deserve it.

San went back alone the next day.

And a week later, he handed you a tiny paper bag with a shiny red string bracelet inside. Simple. Beautiful. Beads spelling your name in a soft rosie gold letters.

You stared at it like it was magic.

“Sannie…?”

He grinned. “I know it’s not fancy or anything, but I made sure it’s strong enough to last… is waterproof too.” He added with a soft smile

Your throat tightened. “Why?”

His gaze met yours. “Because I want you to wear something from someone who actually sees you.”

And there it was.

Not quite a confession.

But definitely not just a gift.

MINGI

You didn’t even realize you’d said it until Mingi went completely silent.

You were lying on his bed, scrolling on your phone while he played soft music from the speaker. Something slow, jazzy, romantic—almost painfully romantic—and that’s probably why your voice came out so wistful.

“How I would like to wear those cute little couple jewelry or something cringey like that. I’ll probably never, I think… that kinda sucks.”

He turned to look at you, his smile quite gone but not completely so you don't notice.

“Why would you say that?”

You shrugged, brushing it off. “It’s not a big deal.”

But Mingi took things like this personally.

Because when Mingi cared, he cared. And you were his person. His ride or die. The one who’d seen him through anxiety spirals and late-night breakdowns. The one who brought him snacks to the studio and sat on the floor just to keep him company.

You deserved the world.

So if he couldn’t be your boyfriend—not yet, not while he was still hiding all this love in the corners of his smile—then damn it, he’d be the next best thing.

The next time you visited his place, there was a small black box on your spot on the bed.

You eyed it suspiciously. “What is this?”

He flopped down beside you, playing it cool. “Just something I saw and thought of you.”

Inside was a necklace—silver, with a pendant shaped like a tiny lightning bolt. Simple. Sleek. Fierce. Just like you.

“Mingi—”

He waved a hand. “Don’t overthink it. I just figured if no boyfriend’s stepped up, I’ll do it for him.”

You raised a brow. “So… you’re my fake boyfriend now?”

He shrugged. “Only until someone real shows up.”

Your chest ached. “And if no one does?”

He turned, eyes suddenly serious. “Then I’ll keep doing it. Forever, if I have to.”

And you didn’t know it yet, but Mingi had bought a matching necklace too.

He just hadn’t had the guts to wear it in front of you yet.

WOOYOUNG

You said it as a joke.

Of course you did—because sadness made you awkward, and teasing made it easier to hide the ache in your chest.

You’d been watching a K-drama together, some swoony scene where the guy slipped a ring onto the girl’s finger under fairy lights and fireworks, and you’d muttered, “Lmao couldn’t be me. I’ll die fucking alone with naked hands”

Wooyoung had laughed at first. Then stopped. Then looked at you like you’d grown a second head.

“Why would you say something so cursed?”

You grinned. “Only facts come out of my mouth.”

He shook his head violently. “No. Nope. Rejected. Banned. You? Never getting a boyfriend or a cute lil ring or some shit like that?? Please.”

You shrugged, sipping your drink. “Guess I’m just not that type.”

He got weirdly quiet after that.

The next time he came over, he was jittery. Twitchy. Acting like he was hiding something. And after an hour of pacing and pretending like he didn’t have a small box in his pocket, he finally shoved it into your hands.

You opened it, expecting a prank.

What you got was a silver ring—minimalist, delicate, with a tiny red gem that sparkled like fire.

Your jaw dropped.

“Wooyoung…?”

He scratched the back of his neck. “Okay so like, I’ve had this for a while. I saw it and thought it looked like you. Fire-y. Cute. You know.”

You blinked. “You’ve had it?”

“Yeah. I was gonna wait for your birthday or something but then you said that dumb thing about no one giving you jewelry and I panicked.”

You laughed—but you were blushing now, heart racing.

“And… are you giving this as a friend?”

His eyes flicked up to yours. “Do you want it to be?”

And in that moment, all the teasing in the world couldn’t hide the truth in his eyes.

JONGHO

Jongho heard your voice from the kitchen.

He wasn’t trying to eavesdrop—you were on the phone with a mutual friend, just talking casually, but the words hit him like a punch to the gut.

“No girl, you know I’ve never dated… I don’t know, I feel like I’m just not the kind of girl guys give attention like that… like, you remember, I dated a few guys but none of them lasted long enough to be introduced to my parents, imagine... much less lasted for a sad one month anniversary or some gift like a box of chocolates, a teddy bear or a necklace, ring, some earrings, y’know? Like, I've tried, you know that, it never works for me, maybe I'm just not anyone type I dont know girl.”

You laughed after, like it was nothing.

But Jongho couldn’t let it go.

Not because he disagreed—but because he completely disagreed. In his eyes you are more than cute. More than worthy. You are strong, loyal, radiant. The kind of person who made his chest tighten just by walking into a room.

That night, he sat at his desk for hours, scouring websites until he found the exact thing.

Two days later, he handed you a small, square box without saying much.

You frowned. “What’s this?”

He shrugged. “Open it.”

Inside was a pair of earrings—small hoops with a delicate, carved vine detail. Elegant but bold. Feminine but powerful.

“Jongho…” You blinked at them. “They’re gorgeous.”

“I know,” he said simply. “So are you.”

You looked up fast.

He held your gaze, voice steady. “Don’t think about yourself like that again. You deserve everything. And if no one else gives it to you…” His expression softened. “I will.”

And that was the first time you realized Jongho had been looking at you not just as a best friend—

—but as the person he was quietly, completely falling for.

[ysrjune]

𐔌♡ ˖ ࣪ HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY, BABE.⠀ ‹𝟹

err smut at the end but it's not cray cray

It was your 5th Mother's Day this year. Scott went out with his dad and Leo two days early to find a gift for you and his mother. They went to Target, walking around the cards section first. "All of these cards are so corny and stupid." Scott says after reading one and putting it back. "I'm gonna make my own."

"Daddy! This one!" Leo runs up to his dad with a card in his hands. "This one! This one for Mama!" Scott takes the card and immediately catches on to why Leo wanted him to pick this one out so bad. Because it had a yellow duck on it. Leo loves ducks. He loves any animal, really. "You wanna give this one to your mama? Are you sure?" He looks down at his son. Leo smiled wide and nodded his head enthusiastically. "Okay, I guess."

Scott's father had gone on his own around the store to find a few other things. Leo had his arm up just a little bit while holding his dad's hand as they walked around looking for more things. "What if we make her a basket? Girls like that kinda stuff, right?" He asks Leo. "Yaaaaaaa." The small boy responds. "Mama lovesss when you spend money on her." It was true, but Leo was sort of making you sound like a gold-digger. The truth behind this was that Leo liked when Scott spent money on you. Neither of you knows why, but it just makes your baby happy.

Leo picked out chips and candy, and Scott chose a pretty necklace and bracelet. They got home and went into Leo's room to put the basket together. "Mommy is gonna love me so much for this." Leo giggles and puts the chips in the basket. "Um.. I think you mean us." Scott furrows his eyebrows. "No. Me." Leo responds and pokes his tongue out. "Mommy looovesss me."

"She loved me first, jackass." Scott chuckles and gently flicks the boys forehead. When the basket was finished being assembled, they decided to hide it under Leo's bed. "You have to keep your big mouth shut about this, okay? Don't tell Mommy. This is a surprise." He ruffles Leo's hair and heads to his room.. with Leo following behind so that he could cuddle up to his dad.

—

It was the morning of Mother's Day. Scott woke up early and turned to his side to stare at you. "Hey, wake up." He rubs your shoulder. "Wakeee uppp." He slightly shakes you. You whine and shake your head. "It's too early." Scott sighs and kisses your forehead, then your cheek, nose, and lips. "Wake up noww!" He whines back, continuing to kiss you.

You giggle and finally give in. "Okay, what?" You open your eyes and rub the sleepiness away. "Happy Mother's day, beautiful." He tells you and then leaves a kiss on your lips once more.

"Thank you."

Now it was time for breakfast. You and Scott got dressed from your pajamas and into regular tshirts and sweats. "Can you wake Leo up?" You ask Scott. "Yeah, be right back." He stretches and makes way to your son's room. "Leo-Oh. You're awake." He chuckles, watching as the boy jumped up and down on his bed. "Is mommy awake? I wanna give her the basket!" Leo smiles excitedly. "And what about Grandma? Don't you wanna give her the thing you made at school?" Scott walks over to the drawers to find Leo an outfit.

"Yes but I wanna see mommy first!" He continues jumping. "Mm, okay. We gotta get your dressed first though, kid." Scott throws a shirt and shorts at the boy. "Hey!! Be nice!!" Leo laughs and immediately starts changing. "Nah, I'm not nice to ugly little boys." Scott smiles. "You're ugly." Leo laughs and tugs the shirt over his head.

After getting ready, Leo ran out of his room with the basket in his hands and went to your room. "MOMMYYY!!" He yells and holds the basket up to you. "Look, look! Me and daddy made it for you!!" He had the happiest look on his face. "Really?" You smile down at your son and then at the basket. "Thank you baby, I love it!" You bring Leo to your lap and kiss him. Scott leaned against the doorframe, watching with love in his eyes. "Thank you." You mouth to him.

—

Your father and mother in law were down in the kitchen, already eating. "Happy Mother's Day, darling." Scott's mother stands up and walks over to you when you walk in. "Happy Mother's Day." You smile and hug her. "Here, I got you this." You give her a necklace with her birthstone on it. "Oh, thank you." She smiles and kisses your cheek. "I still have your gift in my room, I'll go get it."

His dad hugged you and wished a happy Mother's Day and then served you and Leo a plate. "What about me?" Scott scoffs. "You're a grown man." His father smirked to annoy Scott. It was always like this, honestly. His father served everyone in the house but him. It was funny. The gift your mother in law had given you was a heart locket and the picture inside was of you and your small family.

The whole day afterwards was perfect. You all got ready and went to the mall and then went to a movie and lastly, dinner. Then it was time to get back home. It was late, so Leo was fast asleep. Still, you had to be quiet.

Scott fingered you that night. Real good. That man knows how to use his fingers. Long and slim. Always digging into the right places. That wasn't all, though. He replaced his fingers with his dick and his mouth. It was good, but it wasn't the best you ever had from him. If nobody was home, it would have been a whole different story. It was still really good and he loved you. That's all that mattered.

@bxbyysstuff @anakinstwinklebunny @lovethestarrs @valloos @anisangeldust @xo-yaaaaaasxo @anakinca @dollfilmz @alexlovesysrjune @sockiess @sythethecarrot @speaknow-sw @loveamira @alealuvshayden @mvst4far

[ophelia-ophelian]

How the different LI’s in LADS celebrate you during Mother’s Day

A/N: So I personally am really pushing my own boundaries with this piece because I get very queasy at the thought of being a parent in my own future, but I thought it would be cute for today so hopefully you guys can enjoy it!

Content: LADS LI’s x fem!reader, reader is the mother of their kids so mentions of motherhood, kids won’t be in the fic itself and this is more so headcanons of how the men would celebrate you

Xavier:

PICNICCCC WITH YOU TWO AND YOUR KID(S)

He makes all of the juice himself because he loves the sweetness of it. Plus, he also loves making his favorite drink for the people he loves and cares about most in every world

Don’t forget he also brought a charcuterie board for you all to enjoy and with the way he lovingly feeds it to you while making goo-goo eyes, your kid(s) go “ewww”

He has the kid(s) make macaroni art for you and proudly displays it

This one he didn’t quite plan out or persuade your kid(s) to do, but once he figured out that they made a song and dance for you, he jumped in head first to help with the entire production so that it would be memorable for you for years to come

Xavier will also buy all of the games that were on your wishlist so that you could either play them alone or finish them with him

And just to throw in some angst, he tries to record everything so that if you two get separated in death again, he is able to rewatch moments together with your little family until he can find another timeline to fall in love with you again

Rafayel:

He definitely takes you and your kid(s) to the beach on that day, a private one because he knows public beaches would be crowded on such a special day

Rafayel planned a family paint day so you two and your kid(s) will sit around a table and paint whatever your heart tells you

Because he’s a famous – and rich – artist, he wants to take you out shopping for anything you want

Has your kid(s) write out small notes about what they love about you and “I love Mom” hidden all around the house and they are all so excited to watch you find them all

Do you guys remember Raf’s bracelet from his Nightly Rendezvous card? He’s buying you a matching one so you can be matchy matchy forever

Rafayel also will take you out to go get a manicure and pedicure, your choice if you want polish and what kind you’d like. Actually no, entire special, premium, VIP, most expensive, etc. salon day just for you

Zayne:

He really tries to get the day off work on the day of Mother’s Day, but if he can’t, he promises to make it up to you and tries his best to follow through

Once he does get the time/If he did get the day off, he takes you and the kid(s) out for brunch at the cafe near your old apartment (since you two live together, obviously)

Similar to the spring event, Zayne makes a bouquet by hand to give it to you and teaches your kid(s) about flower language so they can do the same thing

Even after spending the whole day with you and your kid(s), Zayne still wants to take you out for dinner

He even reserved the spots months in advance because he already knows how fast tables get filled near holidays like these

The day does end with him partaking in a little bit of wine as the atmosphere of the restaurant called for it. And based by his Nightly Rendezvous card, we all know how that ends 🤭

Sylus:

Sylus is so happy to celebrate you on this day because not only did he think he’d end up never finding his love from his past life, but he never thought he’d be actually to start a family with you

He has your kid(s) (plus Mephisto, Luke, and Keiran) make a whole breakfast buffet and then some

Sylus is the kind of man to get you one of those giant, and I mean GIANT, bouquets of flowers and has the rest of the family

Have you guys seen the card he gives you for your birthday? Yes, he writes poetry about how much he appreciates you and everything you have given him

Later in the night, when everyone but you two are asleep, he puts on his vinyl of your wedding song and slow dances with you in his arms, he never expected to get so much out of this life, so he shows how grateful he is every second he can

Caleb:

Breakfast in bed!! 

Not only does Caleb love cooking for you in general, but he would go the full 9 yards of your favorite coffee/tea, favorite breakfast, apple pastries, everything. 

He even does the cheesy bit of getting you a flower in a cup with water

While you are eating, he runs a warm bath (with flower petals because he’s too cheesy and I adore him for it) with essential oils and himalayan salt to really get you relaxed

He gives you a homemade card and signs it from him and your kids with a little doodle of you two flying in a plane together

Depending on your kid(s)’s age(s), he’ll encourage them to also make homemade gifts and show extra care for you on Mother’s Day

[aestknowsbest]

Timbersteph incorrect quotes because I am bored! (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧ And my anxiety is ever present....

Stephanie, laying with her face pressed into Bernard's stomach: “Let's all take out our intestines and braid them together like friendship bracelets.”

Tim, curled up against her back: “I don't think that's advisable.”

Bernard, watching Nailed It on mute with his phone balanced on Stephanie's head: “No no, I'm actually curious on where this is going.”

Stephanie: “We'd be stuck together always. We'll do everything as a throuple. Cooking, cleaning, sleeping. Communal shitting.”

Bernard: “You know how I love you and would do anything ever for you—?”

Steph: “Sensing a ‘but’ here, but I'm not so sure.”

Bernard: “—Yeah, not anymore. Some things are just off the table”

--

Stephanie, talking about Tim: “I call him princess because that mf is not a daddy.”

Bernard: “The closest he'll ever be to that is when we get him pregnant.”

Stephanie, raising her hand for a high-five: “Tag-team!”

Bernard, smacking his hand against hers: “Heck yes!”

Tim: “I am right here.”

--

Stephanie, scrolling through her phone: “Lunch, breakfast, light shower, common tongue, the red means i love you...... Bear, is there any reason in particular why the playlist you sent to Tim and I is comprised of songs with blatant cannibalistic subtext?”

Bernard, looking up with wide innocent eyes from here he is currently biting into her collarbone: “..... Not exactly any that I can think of, no.”

--

Bernard: “What if horses had teeth in their brain cavity?”

Tim: “Straight up bucking it. And by ‘it’, let's just say.... my brain teeth.”

Jason, who only wanted a quiet weekend but is now having his apartment invaded: “Girlie, please come collect your freak twinks!”

Steph, raiding the refrigerator: “You have custody of the kids over the weekend, sorry! Put on Scooby Doo if you want them quiet and occupied– Mystery Inc. is their favourite.”

Bernard: “The love triangle between Shaggy, Velma, and Scooby... They were so wild for that.”

Jason: “What the fuck?”

--

Steph, stepping out of the dressing room in a dress and heels: “So what do you think?”

Bernard: “You could step on my throat in stilettos and I'd thank you and also ask for you to press harder.”

Stephanie: “I'm assuming that means I look smoking hot. Keep it up, my funky little hype-man.”

--

Stephanie, sitting on the couch reading with a sleeping Bernard's head in her lap:

Tim, stumbling through the window and bleeding profusely from his side:

Steph:

Tim:

Tim, slurring: Hey girl,, nice teeth.... They w'ld llook even better. on my b'droom floor.

Steph: My TEETH??

Tim passes out:

[paucubarsisimp]

birthday twins

pairing: fermin lopez x reader

summary: in which you share a birthday with your boyfriend, fermin

warnings: none!

a/n: happy birthday my love!! @mxryxmfooty

you stirred awake slowly, the soft morning light filtering through the curtains casting a golden glow over the room. the familiar warmth beside you made you smile even before you opened your eyes.

fermín’s arm tightened around your waist, as if he sensed you waking up. his voice, still raspy from sleep, murmured against your neck, “happy birthday, mi amor.”

you turned to face him, grinning. “happy birthday to you too, birthday twin.”

he chuckled, eyes crinkling as he leaned in to press a lazy kiss to your forehead. “best thing ever, waking up next to you. and even better because we get to share this day.”

you lay there for a few quiet moments, wrapped in each other, the world outside forgotten. eventually, he reached over the bedside table and pulled out two small, neatly wrapped boxes.

“okay,” he said, excitement twinkling in his sleepy eyes. “time for part one of birthday magic.”

you sat up, grabbing the box with your name on it. “did we really both plan surprise gifts before breakfast?”

“of course. it’s tradition now,” he said, handing yours over like it was a precious gem.

you opened yours first—inside was a delicate silver bracelet, engraved with the coordinates of the stadium where he made his first-team debut… and where you first told him you loved him. you looked up, eyes misty.

“fermín…”

“i wanted you to have something permanent,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “a reminder of how we started. of everything we’ve been through.”

you leaned forward, kissing him gently. “you’re going to make me cry before we’ve even had coffee.”

“wait till you see mine,” he teased, unwrapping his gift with boyish excitement.

inside was a small photo book. the cover read, our birthdays through the years. you had spent weeks secretly collecting candid photos, old ticket stubs, tiny notes, and memories from every shared birthday.

he flipped through it slowly, smiling wider with every page until he looked up at you with glassy eyes.

“i don’t deserve you,” he whispered.

“you do,” you said, touching his cheek. “and i’m lucky i get to celebrate you… and us… every year like this.”

you both stayed in bed a while longer, wrapped up in blankets and kisses and laughter. the rest of the world could wait—today was just for you two.

two hearts, one birthday, and a love that kept getting better every year.

taglist: @barcapix, @universefcb, @joaosnovia, @ilovebarcaaaa, @levidazai, @hollyf1,@mxryxmfooty, @halfwayhearted lmk if you want to be added

[swetblom]

hiii ♡♡ could you write something for os!brian?? i'd be happy with absolutely anything, i just want more content with my boyy

hi sweetheart! of course. this is x angel! reader cause she’s like default to me lol!

brian’s gone. you wake up to an empty bed, the sheets still holding the lingering warmth of his body. the apartment is quiet, the kind of heavy silence that feels wrong — like the world’s been paused and you’re the only one left moving. but then you see it.

on the kitchen counter, resting against your favorite coffee mug, is a small, velvet box wrapped in a red satin bow. your heart skips, and a smile blooms as you reach for it, fingertips brushing the silken ribbon. there’s a note tucked beneath it, folded with care.

with all my devotion, my angel — your admirer.

you bite your lip, chest tightening. you know it’s brian. you always know. he’s the only one who calls you angel with that mix of reverence and hunger, like he’s tasting the word every time he says it. but he never signs his name. only ever “your admirer”. like he’s something sacred and secret, something you shouldn’t name aloud.

inside the box is a delicate silver bracelet, a tiny red bow charm hanging from the chain. you touch it softly, feeling the cool metal against your skin. you’re wearing his gift long before the coffee finishes brewing, the chain resting snug against your rest, the bow winking at you with each reach of an item.

brian comes back late that night. you’re curled up on the couch, drowsy but waiting. the door clicks open, and he steps inside, bringing the scent of rain and the dark, smoky air of the city with him. “hey, angel,” he murmurs, voice a low rasp as he shrugs off his coat. you rise to greet him, and he catches you by the waist, holding you close.

“missed you,” you say against his jaw, your arms winding around his neck. his skin smells of copper as his rough hands settle on your hips, pressing, kneading. “i know.” his thumbs slide beneath the hem of your sleep shirt, brushing the bare skin of your waist. “i left you something.”

“i saw.” you pull back to show him the bracelet, moving your arm from around his neck for the charm to gleam in the light. “it’s beautiful.” brian’s eyes drop to the chain, and for a moment, they soften. he reaches for your hand and places a light kiss to your wrist to almost set his a silent pledge to you in stone. his jaw flexes, something dark and wild sparking beneath the surface. “you like it?”

you nod, tracing his cheekbone with your thumb and he doesn’t hesitate to lean in a bit. “i love it.” his hands tighten, fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp. “good. that’s what i want.” you blink up at him, the world narrowing down to the press of his hips, the look in his eyes. “what’s wrong?” he shakes his head, but his smile is thin, taut.

it’s later that week when you hear the news: a woman found dead in her apartment, bludgeoned to death, wrists tied behind her back with red satin ribbons. there’s a dark, nasty knot in your stomach, something cold and slippery twisting as you watch the news report. the reporter describes the woman as a waitress, late twenties, last seen leaving after her shift with a man but they couldn’t get a good look at him.

you frown. the photo with the woman inside of it, next to the report, looks all too familiar. “do you know her?” you ask brian as he watches the screen, his jaw working. he’s sitting on the couch, staring straight ahead, eyes dark and unfocused. “no,” he says, but his thumb strokes the inside of your wrist, slow and possessive. “why?”

“she looks like…” you swallow, the taste of metal on your tongue. “she looks like that waitress from the night we went out last week.” the one who battled her eye lashes and made it a mission to touch his hand, laughing too loudly at things he didn’t say. you hadn’t thought much of it at the time. you were too busy liking how he asked you to sit on his side of the booth with him and feeling his rough hands squeeze your thigh underneath the table the whole night, his fingers flexing each time she looked his way.

now, though… now, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re missing something. brian’s thumb presses harder, his grip firm, grounding. “you’re imagining things, angel.” you nod, leaning into his warmth. you’re being paranoid. you settle the feeling with a fidget of your bracelet, charm twisting behind your fingers.

[fic-girlie]

Woven Quiet

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader Summary: A handmade bracelet becomes the quiet beginning of something deeper between you and Frankie—tender, honest, and long overdue. Warnings: pure fluff

You step outside and find him just where you knew he’d be—out on the back porch, leaning against the railing like the weight of the world’s still somewhere on his shoulders. His ballcap’s pulled low, shadowing his eyes, and there’s an unlit cigarette resting between two fingers. You notice, with a soft tug in your chest, that it’s been held like that for a while—untouched, forgotten. He’s not smoking it. Just holding onto the shape of the habit, like muscle memory.

The late afternoon sun casts a warm, golden light across the porch, dust motes floating lazy in the quiet. There’s a faint breeze moving through the trees, and the soft creak of the wood beneath your feet lets him know you’re there before you speak.

“Hey,” you offer gently, stepping closer.

His head tilts slightly at the sound of your voice. And then he turns toward you, slow and unhurried, like the motion itself takes effort—but when he sees you, something in his face eases. The tension doesn’t fall away completely, but it shifts—softens at the edges.

“Hey,” he murmurs back. His voice is gravelly, low and tired, but there’s a note of warmth in it just for you. “You good?”

You nod, though your heart’s beating a little faster now. You’d been holding onto this little moment all day—tucking it away in your pocket, waiting for the right time, the right mood, the right version of him. But maybe that doesn’t exist. Maybe it’s enough that he’s here, real and steady, even when he’s worn thin.

You shift your weight, fingers brushing against the shape in your pocket, the small woven thing you made in quiet hours with nothing but thread and thought. You weren’t even sure what you were doing when you started it. You just knew your hands needed to move, to create, to turn soft cord into something solid.

“I, um…” Your voice falters for a second, and his brows lift, curious and patient. Always patient, when it’s you. “I made you something.”

His eyes flick down to your hand as you draw the bracelet out slowly, the cords braided tight in a mix of desert tones and deep green. The colours remind you of him—earth and olive drab, quiet strength. One navy thread runs through the centre, almost like a pulse.

You hold it out in your open palm. It’s not perfect—some of the knots are a little uneven, a little crooked—but it’s honest. Yours.

“It’s just a bracelet,” you say quickly, suddenly self-conscious under his gaze. “I don’t know. You fidget a lot and I thought… maybe this could help. Or even if it doesn’t, maybe you’d just… like to have it.”

There’s a beat of silence.

And then he takes it.

Slowly, gently, like he’s afraid it might come apart in his hands. His fingertips brush yours as he lifts it from your palm, and you swear your breath hitches just a little at the contact. You watch his eyes trace the pattern of the braid, his thumb running over one of the knots, like he’s reading something there.

“You made this?” he asks quietly, like he’s not sure he heard you right.

You nod again. “Yeah. Just some thread I had lying around. It’s nothing special.”

Frankie looks up at you then, and there’s something in his eyes that makes your throat tighten. He looks like he’s trying to say something but the words are stuck, caught behind the lump rising in his chest. The light catches the deep brown of his eyes, and for a moment, you see the reflection of something unspoken—soft gratitude, maybe. Or the ache of someone not used to being thought of like this.

“It’s everything,” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

Your breath stutters a little at that. It’s so quiet, the kind of thing he says like he means it more than he knows how to explain.

He slips the bracelet onto his wrist with practiced hands, fingers steady even as you watch his jaw work like he’s trying not to get too caught in the emotion of it. He adjusts the knot, pulling it snug until it sits flush against his skin.

It fits perfectly.

For a moment, neither of you says anything.

You can hear the breeze in the trees. The soft scrape of his boot against the deck. The little creak of the wood as he shifts closer, just enough to close the space between you.

“Thank you,” he says again, and this time it sounds different. He’s looking right at you, and there’s something in his expression that holds. Stays. Lingers. Like he’s memorizing this—you, here, now, giving him something so small but so full of care.

Before you can say anything else, he reaches for you. His arms come around your waist with a hesitancy that only lasts a second, and then he’s pulling you in, warm and solid and safe. You press your face against his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart under the fabric of his shirt, his scent filling your nose—clean sweat, sun, and a trace of whatever cologne clings faintly to the collar.

His fingers press gently into your back. Not holding tight. Just holding.

You speak into the space between you, your voice barely audible.

“Looks good on you.”

His chest rumbles with a soft laugh, his hand sliding slowly up your spine in a quiet gesture that feels more intimate than anything you’ve ever shared with anyone else.

“Feels like home,” he murmurs, like it’s the most honest thing he’s said all day.

And god, your heart aches for him—for the way he says things like that and then goes quiet, like he doesn’t think he’s allowed to say more.

But you hear him. Every word he doesn’t say.

You stay there for a long time, tucked against him, the bracelet snug on his wrist and your fingers curled into the back of his shirt, memorizing the way this moment feels—quiet, unexpected, and real.

The porch holds the kind of stillness that feels sacred. Evening settles around you in layers—warm air clinging to skin, the chirr of cicadas weaving through the trees, the last honeyed strands of sunlight filtering through the eaves. You stay wrapped in Frankie’s arms, head tucked under his chin, and nothing in you wants to move.

His heart beats against your cheek, slow and steady. A rhythm you could memorize if you let yourself. And his arms around you—strong, but not tense—hold you like he doesn’t quite know how to let go.

There’s a silence between you that isn’t uncomfortable. It’s weighty. Laced with everything he hasn’t said yet. You feel it in the way his hand keeps brushing the fabric at your back. The way his breath shifts when your fingers glide along his side, gentle and reassuring.

You tilt your head, chin resting lightly on his chest so you can look up at him. His eyes aren’t on you. They’re on the horizon—far-off, unreadable—but the tension in his brow betrays what’s behind them. You wait. You don’t push. Just touch your fingertips lightly to the inside of his wrist, right where the bracelet hugs his skin.

He glances down at the contact. Then at the bracelet. Then finally, at you.

“I don’t get things like this,” he says softly. “Not without strings attached.”

You don’t say anything at first. You just keep your fingers where they are, resting gently on that pulse. You can feel it jump a little under your touch.

“I didn’t give it to you because I wanted anything back,” you say quietly.

“I know.” His voice is rough. Thick, like it’s scraped across gravel. “That’s the part that scares me.”

That makes something inside you ache. Not pity. Something deeper. Something that wants to step closer—not just with your body, but with everything you are. Like your soul recognizes something in his and wants to pull it in from the cold.

“Why does it scare you?” you ask, still keeping your voice soft.

Frankie shifts, but doesn’t pull away. If anything, he holds you a little tighter, like he's fighting his own instinct to close off. He looks down at the bracelet again, then out into the trees like the answer’s written in the branches.

“Because if I get used to it…” He exhales slowly. “If I start needing this—needing you—and it disappears, I don’t know how I’d come back from that.”

The quiet that follows is thick with honesty. You feel it settle in your chest like a stone.

But you don’t flinch. Don’t look away.

Instead, you take his hand—the one with the bracelet—and press it gently between both of yours. You brush your thumbs over his knuckles. He watches you do it like he’s never had anyone touch him that carefully.

“I’m not going anywhere, Frankie,” you say. “I didn’t come here to give you something with an expiration date.”

He closes his eyes at that, his brow drawing in like the weight of believing you might be too much. His hand is so still in yours, but you feel how tightly he’s holding on under the surface.

“I don’t know what to do with that,” he murmurs. “I don’t think I’ve ever had it.”

You lean forward and tip his head down, just enough for your forehead to rest against his. “You don’t have to do anything. Just let yourself have it.”

His breath catches. His hand twitches in yours, then moves—tracing your wrist, the side of your neck, the line of your jaw. The touch is reverent. Like he’s memorizing the map of your face in case this is all a dream and he wakes up tomorrow alone.

Your noses brush.

Then finally—slow, careful—he leans in and kisses you.

It’s not the kind of kiss that demands anything. It’s not hard or hungry. It’s a kiss that unfolds in pieces. Tentative at first, then steadier. Lips moving in gentle press and pull, shaped by feeling rather than urgency. His hand cradles your face, thumb stroking your cheek like he’s still amazed he’s allowed to touch you at all.

You answer him with just as much care. Fingertips sliding up the side of his neck, into the curls at the nape of his hair. You pull him closer. Not because you need more—but because you want him to feel it. The truth of your presence. The quiet kind of love that doesn’t come with conditions or timelines.

When he pulls back, he doesn’t go far. His forehead stays pressed to yours. His breath fans over your lips.

“You kiss like you mean it,” he whispers, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You smile too, breathless but grounded. “Because I do.”

There’s a long pause where he just looks at you—eyes searching, soft, no longer guarded. Then his other hand comes up to your waist and draws you in until you’re half in his lap. Your hands rest against his chest again, and the beat beneath them is a little faster now.

“I don’t want to mess this up,” he says after a while, almost to himself.

“You won’t,” you whisper. “Not unless you disappear. Not unless you stop letting me in.”

His throat works as he swallows, and you feel the subtle tremor in the hand that holds your side.

“Okay,” he says. Barely audible. But there’s conviction there, even if it’s wrapped in hesitation.

You press your lips to the corner of his mouth. A small, lingering kiss. One that says, I believe in you even when you don’t believe in yourself.

The cicadas keep humming. The light fades slowly. Neither of you rushes back inside.

Eventually, he nudges his nose against your temple and murmurs, “Wanna come in? I can make you something. Pasta, maybe?”

You nod, curling closer, your arms looping around his neck. “Only if you let me help.”

“You made me a bracelet,” he says, pulling back with a small smile. “You get a pass tonight.”

You grin. “Frankie Morales, are you spoiling me already?”

“I think I’m just figuring out what I should’ve been doing all along.”

——

You’re still laughing when you follow Frankie back inside, the screen door creaking behind you and clicking shut on its spring. The air shifts as you cross the threshold—from the warm gold of the porchlight into the soft hush of the house. It’s cooler here, dimmer. The light above the sink casts a gentle pool across the counter, barely enough to chase the shadows from the corners of the kitchen.

Frankie moves with quiet ease, tossing his keys into the ceramic bowl on the entryway table, the jingle sounding loud in the stillness. His shoulders roll back as he exhales, like walking through the door has taken a weight off, even if it’s one you can’t see.

You stand for a moment just watching him—how he pushes the sleeves of his henley up his forearms, how he opens a cabinet with practiced familiarity, how his hand passes absently over the woven bracelet you gave him earlier that afternoon. He wears it like he was always meant to.

There’s something about the simplicity of the moment that makes your chest ache a little. That makes you want to stay.

He reaches into the pantry for a box of pasta, glancing at you with that small smile that always tugs a little crooked on the left side of his mouth. “Hope you weren’t expecting gourmet.”

“I’d be worried if you tried,” you tease gently, moving to lean your hip against the counter near him. “Besides, I’m here for the company, not the cuisine.”

That earns a warm chuckle as he fills a pot with water. The sound of it rushing from the tap is comforting, steady. “I’m flattered,” he says. “Stick around long enough, you might get my famous grilled cheese next.”

“Oh, now you’re trying to impress me,” you murmur, brushing your fingers along the edge of the counter, watching him out of the corner of your eye.

There’s a comfortable quiet that follows. Not the kind that’s heavy or awkward, but the kind that feels like shared space—unspoken, warm, full of the small sounds of being alive together. The bubbling hush of water heating, the soft creak of the old floorboards under your shifting weight, the distant hum of the fridge.

You glance over again, and your eyes land on the bracelet. The light catches the braided strands—simple, handmade, humble—and something flutters in your chest. He notices you looking and lifts his arm slightly.

“You sure you don’t want it back?” he asks, almost shy. “You didn’t seem totally sold when you gave it to me.”

You smile, stepping in a little closer. “It wasn’t that. I just… didn’t know if you’d wear it.”

He lifts a brow. “Why wouldn’t I?”

You shrug one shoulder, trying to seem casual even though your heart is beating a little harder now. “I don’t know. Maybe it seemed silly. You didn’t ask for it.”

Frankie pauses for a beat, eyes on yours, then turns off the stove, even though the water hasn’t started boiling yet. He leans a hip against the counter beside you, close enough that his arm brushes yours.

“Can I tell you something?” he says, voice quieter now.

You nod.

“When you handed me that bracelet,” he begins, then hesitates, like the words are hard to shape. “It wasn’t silly. Not even close. I don’t get a lot of… things. Not just gifts, but the kind people make. The kind that mean something.”

You feel the air shift again, charged now with something tender, something real.

“I don’t wear it because I think I’m supposed to,” he continues, turning his wrist so the bracelet catches the light again. “I wear it because it reminds me there’s someone out there who thought of me. Who took the time. Who gave a damn.”

Your throat tightens.

“That’s not small to me,” he says softly. “That’s not silly.”

You swallow and reach for his hand, the one with the bracelet. Your fingers slide gently over his knuckles, then up to the woven cord. “I’m glad you like it,” you whisper. “I wanted you to feel that.”

Frankie watches you for a long, still moment, and something unspoken passes between you—thick with meaning, heavier than the silence. Then his hand shifts, fingers slipping between yours, warm and sure. He draws you closer until you’re standing between his legs, your free hand resting against his chest where you can feel the slow beat of his heart under your palm.

His eyes drop to your mouth, then back to your eyes. “Can I kiss you again?”

You nod.

And when he does, it’s different than before. Slower. Deeper. Like now he knows you mean it—like he doesn’t have to question why you’re here, what this is.

Your hands slide into his curls, your body easing into his like you’ve done this a thousand times before, like this is home. You can feel him exhale against your lips, the tension bleeding out of his shoulders as he kisses you—long, tender, deliberate.

When you finally pull back, his forehead rests against yours, his thumb stroking softly over the back of your hand.

“I think I’m falling for you,” he whispers, not quite looking at you.

Your breath catches.

“I know that’s probably too fast,” he adds quickly, eyes flicking to yours. “I just—if this is only for a little while, if it’s not what I think it is, I need you to tell me now.”

Your heart swells, aches. You touch his face gently, brushing your fingers along the curve of his jaw.

“It’s not just for a little while,” you tell him. “I’m here, Frankie. I want to be.”

Relief floods his face, followed by something softer. Something so open it nearly undoes you.

“Okay,” he says quietly. “Then I’m not going anywhere either.”

He leans forward again and presses a kiss to your temple. His arm wraps around you, holding you close, like he’s been waiting a long time for this—for you.

And right there, in the hush of his kitchen, with the bracelet between your joined hands and his heart beating steady beneath your palm, something shifts.

You’re not just someone who stopped by anymore.

You’re his.

And he’s yours.

[echantedtoon]

Mermay Day 12 Lionfish

(Kyojuro would be a lionfish such as the one drawn by yuki2sksksk linked below.

www.tumblr.com/yuki2sksksk/729990049783021568/lionfish-based-merman-kyojuro-and-betta-fish-based?source=share 

If you've read Ocean Deep then you'll understand what's going on.)

taglist: @six-eyed-samurai @lavenderdropp @jjamsbangtan @camilo-uwu @hopefulworld1

@shadyd3ar @amypop122 @azuredragonstrike

@mimisweetz @chaoticoperatorduckhairdo @staarflowerr @aleee-386 @summrwalkr

@nicora04 @miniverse-zen @heijihattorisgf

@lavender-moony

As above so below. 

The curling of fire scales and bright eyes were the last thing the maiden was expecting when she sat by the waters and began to admire the ocean waves in the warm sunlight. Her beauty glowing and her smile bright as she sat there awaiting the special someone that would arrive soon. 

It had been nearly a month since you had reunited with Tengen and his pod and nearly a few days since he talked you into coming back to his island to live with them again. You had seen and spent time with practically everyone. Everyone except for Kyojuro. Apparently according to Tengen-

"He's spending a few days with his family over at my other island. Don't worry about him. As soon as he gets back, we won't be able to get him off ya.~"

You knew the loud positive merman would probably be very excited to see you back here again and would most likely race over as soon as one of the others informed him that you had come back to live on the island again. So now here you were, staring at the water waiting for one of your 'mates' to show up today and see what they had in mind.  You were not expecting the sights of a bright orange blue under the surface rippling the water right towards where you were sitting but you smiled at him. 

Kyojuro had arrived. 

You smiled in wait and knelt down to the water's edge in wait. You didn't have to wait long because the surface broke as a large muscular man came crawling out of the water and onto the sand dripping saltwater from his large fins. The smiling face was full of love and hope as he stared up at you in awe.

"YOU CAME BACK!!," was his usual loud response as his voice echoed everywhere and made you wince from the pain in your ears. "When I heard you were back I had to come see you myself!! I didn't believe you were here again but here you are!"

Reaching a hand up to rub your ear, you smiled at him. "Yes. I was just wondering when I'd get to see you again too. You weren't with the others when I got here."

Without thinking or asking he reached out to you and you didn't stop him when he grabbed a webbed hand around the large diamond necklace around your neck and lifted it from your collar bone to examine. 

"I recognize this from Tengen's treasure hoard!"

"Yes. He gave it to me." His red eyes looked up at you. "He said he wanted to dote on all your wives..but I guess I'm just not used to wearing such lavish jewelry like all of you yet."

" Nonsense. You look radiant." He hummed. "Well allow me. May I?"

He gestured to your body and you nodded giving him permission to curiously poke at the polished seashells on the platinum chain around your waste and move up to hold your hands looking at the Platinum and diamond bracelets and rings Tengen had given you to wore. He wanted everyone's jewelry to be different. With Hinatsuru he adorned her in rubies. Suma had gotten silver and blue diamonds or sapphires. Makio was usually dressed up in amber and lots of gold. Kyojuro himself had some gold jewelry but many were colorful gems from green emeralds to purple gems unknown to you to even a few pink diamonds but most of what he wore was copper pieces. Yourself had been gifted mostly clear diamonds, opals, pearls, and platinum. Each of you standing out differently. 

He studded each piece carefully poking a hand at the pearl bracelet around your wrist before bringing your hand up to look at the diamond studded rings amongst your fingers. He stared at your hand for a long time bed without warning kissed your hand making you jump before blushing a grand red as he chuckled.

"I was right. You look absolutely radiant.~"

[animeomegas]

Congratulations on your milestone 🥰. I couldn't come up with anything good for your last ask game! but for this one... I'm still not sure if it's good, but it's something!

Most to least likely to want to play around with a set of womb tattoos out of 707, Neji, and Simeon

Thank you!!! 🥰 This one was sooo hard because you've picked three characters that would 100% looooove using womb tattoos! But here's how I'd order them. Also sorry it took so long 😭

LEAST

Neji

In theory, womb tattoos are a great kink for Neji, especially when it's linked to playing as a succubus.

His perfect formula for his beloved high effort sex roleplays goes as follows:

Personal who technically has the power in this situation (but will get dominated and entirely wrecked) x the technical subordinate (who is fantastically dominant and actually has all the power)

So, him playing a succubus, come to seduce a lowly human, only for that lowly human to turn his brain into much with their godlike sex skills??

Sign him up!!

That makes him ridiculously horny, omg.

But the reason he's at the bottom of this list is that he can't deny that the idea can also make him uncomfortable, as much as it makes him horny.

I don't think I have to specify why the idea of painting a seal-like tattoo on him might bring up some horrible memories.

So any play involving him having the womb tattoo as a symbol of an altered mind state is not something he's going to be down with.

And he's probably got to be an experienced role player, and very comfortable with you in bed, before he's comfortable using them as prop for playing a succubus.

Honestly, it might just be better to give him something else that functions like a womb tattoo, like a special set of bracelets and anklets or something. There's just a lot less trauma attached there.

Seven

Seven would looooove to try using womb tattoos with you.

Cosplay is his thing, of course, and dressing up as a succubus is his favourite way to use womb tattoos.

He's got an entire skimpy leather ensemble, including wings and a tail, which may or may not be a butt plug, depends on the day lol.

He'd be shocked and happy for you to use them on yourself too, either to play a succubus, or just to pretend that it's some kind of 'insatiably horny' curse and he now has to satisfy your animalistic libido 👀

He's very solidly in the middle of this list because he loves it a lot, but it's not really a core kink. He likes dressing up and campy role play, which this fulfils, but he needs that variety too.

Simeon

Simeon is deeply conflicted by this kink, because it goes hand in hand with a corruption kink, which he loves, but that he also has a complicated relationship with.

I mean, he's literally an angel, and while he's nowhere near as innocent as you might think an angel to be, this is still 'playing with fire' in more ways than one.

But during the times that you can get past the innate uncomfortableness, he really loves womb tattoos.

He's quite versatile with it too.

You can put it on yourself and play the succubus who finally manages to corrupt him, or you can put it on him as a 'curse' to 'make him hornier'.

The second one is his favourite because it gives him a sense of permission for his behaviour that he finds very relaxing. It wasn't him who did all those depraved horny things, it was the 'magic' he was under! And that freedom will get you some of the best sex you can have with Simeon.

If you can actually imbue it with magic, just to make it glow or something, he will be extremely into it.

So ultimately, while there are some mixed emotions for him with womb tattoos, there's a lot of core pleasure and interest in them for Simeon, you just have to gently coax it out of him ;)

MOST

[tayloreminence]

"I would say that it's a special talent of mine. Only one that you get to experience." Taylor was glad that she was the only one who got to experience the mornings with Miles in the way couples could. Although she had a very public life, when she chose to be out and about - especially when touring, the blonde loved her private and domestic life. It was something that she wanted to build with someone - and she had learnt a lot in the past two years about who she wanted to be, and what she wanted in a partner. She knew that both of them weren't entering the relationship lightly. "I'm sure that Meredith and Olivia are lurking around somewhere, too. Sometimes they don't even like me." Taylor said with a small pout - knowing that she was being ever so slightly dramatic.

A small shiver moved through her as he brushed away hair from her face, giving a small nod. "Of course I want to. I know that life hasn't been easy for you lately, so hearing that you were able to relax and switch off, it's good." Hearing that Miles had got her something, Taylors jaw dropped slightly - she didn't actually expect him to be thinking of her when he was away, but a grin quickly formed on her lips. "Careful, might think that you're down band for me if you keep doing things like this." The musician said with a small laugh. Looking at the bracelet that was presented to her, Taylor took it gently in her hand, putting it on immediately. "I don't think it's simple - because of the story behind it. Not everything has to be a big elaborate thing, babe. It's beautiful. I love it." Running her fingers slowly along the shells, Taylor knew that she was going to cherish the bracelet for a long time. She knew that Miles was a sweet guy - the persona that he often put on in front of public was something that she never fully believed, much like her, wearing a shield became easy. "Me, chaotic? Don't know what you're talking about." The blonde said, faking offence at the statement. "I've missed you, too. Feeling a lot more settled now - it's like my brain knows that it's safe to not think of all the what ifs. Chronic overthinking and all."

Miles glanced down at her, his fingers instinctively curling around hers as they rested on her stomach. The softness in her voice, the way her head fit so perfectly on his thigh - it made the jet lag fade into the background. He chuckled softly at the mention of morning sex. “You really know how to make a guy look forward to waking up,” he murmured, his voice low but laced with that playful charm she seemed to bring out in him effortlessly. Cooking lessons with her didn’t sound bad either. In fact, the thought of flour on her cheeks, her hair pulled back, and her voice walking him through pasta-making steps he’d likely forget halfway through - it sounded like the kind of domestic dream he never realized he craved. “Alright, I’ll take the onions off the list. But only because you promised to kiss me later,” he added, brushing his thumb lightly over the back of her hand. Then came the thump. He looked down to see Benjamin make himself comfortable on Taylor’s legs like he’d owned the place before either of them had stepped foot in it.

“Well, guess that’s the third wheel for the night,” Miles said with a grin, reaching down to scratch behind the cat’s ear opposite Taylor’s hand. Benjamin purred, already content with his place in the world. His gaze returned to Taylor. Her blonde hair splayed slightly against his leg, her face glowing with that soft domestic warmth. It was a version of her that didn’t belong to the stage, the lights, or the public. It was just her. And it made his chest ache, in the best way. “You really want to hear about my trip?” he asked, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “It was…good. Fast. Too many airports, not enough sleep. But the beaches were insane. Like, water that looked fake. I brought you something, actually…but I forgot to give it to you when I came in.” He reached for his bag, careful not to jostle her or the cat too much, and pulled out a small pouch. Opening it, he took out a delicate bracelet made of thin, knotted thread and tiny seashell beads. “It’s simple,” he said, holding it out for her. “But I saw it in this tiny shop run by this older woman who made everything by hand. It reminded me of you - beautiful, a little chaotic, and impossible to replicate.” He smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay, that sounded better in my head. But...I missed you. More than I thought I would.”

[itsduckinghard]

Ok since we're all - well mainly me, anyway - discussing James' jewellery, here's a litte recap

Bracelets

The wooden beaded one

which might or mightn't be the other (?) wooden beaded one

The australian, oval beaded one

The chain one bought while filming One For Road

The "piece of string from a Hindu temple"

Mixed blings from the Botswana Special (potato quality)

[kizzer55555]

Core Gems

So when a ghost becomes injured, they have a last ditch defense where they retreat into their core. And I mean, injured badly where their body is rip apart to the point they can’t hold a solid form anymore. And they basically go into a hibernation state until they are strong enough to form again.

Ellie, Danny, and Dan are all injured in a final battle against the GIW. The organization was destroyed and the ghosts were safe but the halfas ended up being so injured that they reverted to core form and then went to sleep for a bit. When they woke up, they were still weak but at least recovered enough to gain consciousness. And realize…they are in some kind of auction…in the middle of a heist. It appeared that two furries (one in a bat costume and one in a cat costume) were ducking it out. And they…they were a necklace. All three of them had been turned into a necklace with their cores as gems accompanied by sapphires, pearls, and opals. And frankly gorgeous craftsmanship as the metal was crafted around their cores as if to cradle them and the other gems.

Unfortunately, they were too weak to take a form properly, they could still feel the strain on their bodies. But at least they could still communicate through their auras. Then the cat lady punched a hole in the glass container surrounding them and grabbed their necklace.

However, the bat grabbed the other end and it resulted in a sort of tug-a-war. Meanwhile, Danny, Ellie, and Dan were having a back and form commentary on the situation and what they should do. Completely unheard by the other party.

In the corner of their eye, the three halfas finally noticed a third contender. Some kind of clown who was…hold on…holding a gun?! And it was pointed straight at the two fighting furies who had yet to notice him. The ghosts’ protective instincts went into overdrive and they frantically tried to shout, yell, move. Just do something to warn the two but their cries fell on deaf ears. All they succeeded in doing was faintly glow which immediatly caught the attention of the fighting duo. The two turned to look at the strange necklace but right at that moment, the clown fired and a gunshot rang throughout the auction room. Having no other options, Danny and the others poured every ounce of ectoplasm they had to try and phaseshift, making the two furries intangible as the bullets passed right through them, but in their shock, the two jumped away in opposite directions and accidentally ripped the necklace apart. Gems and pearls went flying and the three cores bounced along the ground.

Luckily, the two finally noticed the clown and went to deal with him and his minions who had appeared. Seemingly putting their fight on hold and forming a temporary truce. The three halfas could only watch as the battle finally wound down, ending with the cops barging into the place and arresting the clown and his grunts, the cat managing to escape with half the scattered gems and pearls from the broken necklace along with a few other jewelry pieces (none of their cores though) and the bat leaving through a skylight.

The auction continued and in the end, despite being broken, their necklace seemed to have caught someone’s interest. A man named Bruce Wayne bought up every piece of the shattered jewelry wear. The auctioneers appeared relived that the item managed to sell in the end and gratefully gave it to him.

Bruce had no idea what happened at the auction, but he could have sworn that some of the gems faintly glowed right before he and Selina were shot. If the necklace was some sort of magical item, then he needed to understand exactly what has been brought to Gotham. It was unfortunate that Selena had taken some parts of the necklace but he utilized his vast wealth to make sure all the other parts ended in his possession. Now he would take them back to the mansion for examination.

[screwpinecaprice]

Just a silly guy, with silly silly thoughts.

@glowweek Day 2

Casual | Surprise

A casual surprise?😬😬😬