#this doesn’t mean anything so don’t even try to give it a meaning

[chestersturniolo]

good cop , bad cop

Matt Sturniolo x fem!reader x Chris Sturniolo

Summary; You have been a moody guts all day. Matt goes straight to comforting mode.. Chris, not so much

disclaimer; Chratt poly relationship dynamic! if you are not comfortable with this, do not read // suggestive // pet names // most likely a one shot.. based on this request

You flop onto the couch with an exaggerated huff, crossing your arms over your chest. Your irritation at an all time high for no real reason. It’s been one of those days, and it feels like nothing is going your way.

Matts attention is caught by your dramatics, he glances over from where he sat on the other side of the couch. “Hey-” he says softly “-what’s wrong sweetheart? You’ve been in a mood since this morning” his voiced concerned

You groan dramatically, rolling your eyes. “Nothing. I’m fine.” you snap,

Matt frowns, “C’mon, talk to me. Did something happen? Did I do something?” His voice is still patient, gentle, but for some reason it only makes you more annoyed.

“Ugh, Matt can you not?-” you sass back. “-I said I’m fine. Why can’t you just leave it alone?”

Before Matt can respond, Chris speaks up from the kitchen, his voice cutting through your tantrum “Alright, that’s enough” he says firmly, turning to face you. His blue eyes locking onto yours,. “What’s with the attitude, kid? You’ve been whinin’ n actin’ like a little brat all day”

Your eyebrows immediately raise, taken back by his tone.

“Chris!” Matt snaps, shooting him a disapproving look. “Don’t talk to her like that, she’s just—”

“She’s just what?” Chris interrupts, standing his ground. “Throwing a tantrum because she’s gotten herself all worked up for no reason? Don’t coddle her, Matt. It’s not helping.”

You glare at him, but Chris doesn’t waver. “look I get that you’re not in the best of moods today-” he says, his tone softening just a little “-but that doesn’t mean you get to take it out on us. We’re here to help you, not be your punching bags kid”

Matt sighs, running a hand through his hair “You didn’t have to put it like that” he mutters, clearly torn between defending you and acknowledging Chris has a point.

“Maybe not-“ Chris concedes, his gaze flicking back to you “-but she needed to hear it”

You shift in your seat with an subtle eye roll. Chris wasn’t wrong…you had been a little over the top today. But still, his bluntness stings.

Matt scoots over to you on the couch, his hand resting gently on your knee. “listen-” he says softly “-whenever something’s bothering you, just tell us, okay? We can talk anything out”

“Yeah-“ chris starts in agreement, making his way over to the couch “-we’ve got your back ma, next time lose the attitude, huh?” he says,crossing his arms as he stands infront of you

You sigh, the fight draining out of you as you mumble, “Okay, m’sorry” feeling slightly guilty

Matt smiles, giving your knee a reassuring squeeze. Chris smirks, tossing a wink your way “There’s our girl”

Your lips instinctively curl upward at his coo..you’d always found it quite hard to stay mad at them for long periods of time. They had this way of breaking your attitude down, sometimes without even trying. You let out another small sigh, “i think i’ve just been a little stressed lately that’s all..” you say honestly, your eyes flickering between them both.

Matt clicks his tongue “ah baby, why didn’t you say so? i know just the thing for that..” he says before throwing a glance to chris with a smirk. They share a quick knowing look before Chris’ smirk forms also, knowing exactly what his brother is getting at.

Before you could process what was happening, Chris leans down, scooping you up off the couch. You let out a surprise squeal as he hoists you up and slings you over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, before placing a firm smack to your ass as he starts walking off toward Matts room.

“Where are we going” you giggle,lifting your head slightly to see Matts figure following closely behind

“We’re going to relieve all that stress of yours baby-“ Matt mumbles, wetting his bottom lip, his hand coming down to unbuckle his belt as he walks “-jus’ relax, we’re gonna take good care of you hmm?”

MASTERLIST LINKED HERE

[wonderjanga]

Marvel’s Extreme Patience

Marvel is so patient. Like actually. None of the Justice League have even seen him lose his patience. They’ve seen Superman, Batman Wonder Woman, even Martian Manhunter, get to the point of lashing out. But Marvel? Nope, nada, nothing.

And by nothing, they mean nothing. Green Lantern once watched Flash ask Cap the same, quite frankly stupid, question six times. He’s still wondering how Marvel hadn’t slapped the shit out of Wally by the third. But no, Marvel answered each time with a smile on his face. GL even called Martian Manhunter over and asked him to see if he could sense any anger, or at least annoyance from Marvel.

MM: “I don’t wish to do this-”

GL: “I’ll buy you a bunch of chocolate later!”

MM: *sighs but does it anyways* “He’s not exhibiting any signs of annoyance.” *rubs head because Marvel’s intense ahh emotions are enough to give him a headache*

GL: “Damn…” *looks back Marvel in wonder, watching Flash ask him the same question again*

The thing is though, little do the JL know, Marvel tweaks out a lot. Like once per day. It’s just that they’ve never caught him, and that the one crash out per day is normally reserved for Billy. His tiny crash outs are always for the smallest things too. Like when the people in front of him are walking too slow. Or when a line in the grocery store is too long. Or when someone steps on the back of his shoe and causes that abhorrent thing that makes it get under your heel. He just needs to do it. Thats the worst part. If he doesn’t have his daily small crash out, he’ll actually consider listening to the DTC and end up pushing the Watchtower into the sun all because his cape got snagged in between one of the doors.

But one day… One day, he hadn’t had his little daily crash out. He didn’t know why. Maybe it was just that he hadn’t had anything worthy of it. Maybe it was that he wanted to stop his little daily ritual. He doesn’t remember. He doesn’t even remember how he got into this predicament in the first place. All he knows is that he’s now staring at a shattered counter and a bloody knuckle. Don’t worry though, his knuckle isn’t bloody because he hurt it on the counter, no no, it’s because he did that thing where your bite your knuckle to prevent yourself from literally convulsing in rage to the point where you look like you’re having a seizure. So yeah, Billy was at a loss. He’s too broke to pay for this counter, and he doesn’t really want to explain why broke the counter, not he remembers. So honest to the Gods, he just leaves.

Marvel: *clears his throat, looks around, wipes his knuckle on his shirt, and walks away humming the intro tune from his radio show like nothing happened*

Mercury: *sounds like he’s trying to muffle wheezing laughs*

Solomon: *shaking his head in disappointment at Mercury, not Billy*

In Solomon’s point of view, let the little orphan boy have a little tweak out session once a day. It’s better than vaping.

Anyways, not even a couple minutes later, another hero went to the kitchen and was greeted with the shattered countertop, along with a little bit of blood. When they asked around, no one fessed up. They didn’t even consider asking Marvel because he’s not the type to lose his temper. When the footage was reviewed, they were sorely surprised.

Also, the part about Billy’s intro tune from his radio show is a reference to @hermesserpent-stuff’s post about Billy’s radio segue sounds I love their idea. They’re super creative :D

[delulupunk]

How the batboys would react to shopping!

Quick A/N: Thank you for all of the support! I appreciate every single one of you!! I have also added Duke just send an ask if you’d like him to also be included in my previous posts and I’ll make it happen.

Dick Grayson

You would both spend an equal amount doing shopping for yourselves. This means you’d also help Dick with his shopping too.

Dick would make no secret of trying to find clothes that match the ones you just bought- he’ll hold up your new dress to a jacket in the store, to check the shades of colour are the same.

You’d most likely spend a long time at the shopping centre if you both love shopping. However if you aren’t the biggest fan of shopping then you’d still spend a fair amount of time shopping, just because Dick likes it so much.

Dick is one of the best men to go shopping with opinion wise. He gives the best advice and slowly steers you away from the less than attractive pieces of clothing. You’ll find you have plenty of fully planned outfits by the end of the trip.

The time you’d go shopping is the morning- Dick would make an entire day out of the spree, which means you’d wrap it up between late noon or evening time.

Jason Todd

Unless you’re shopping for something Jason has an interest in, like books, he won’t be contented following you around like a guard dog. So you’d have to be sneakier with planning your shopping trips.

You’d have to ease him into the day gently by shopping for books and then going to a shop you’d want to go to. Then you’d have a meal and continue shopping, ensuring you drop in shops you’ll know he wants to go to so he doesn’t get bored.

Your plan works, but Jason gets wise and realises. He pretends not to notice, because he adores the fact that you’re not selfish. You make the day fun for him as well and act on what he wants to do.

The shopping day would most likely begin at noon, because Jason’s tired from patrol the night beforehand and has slept in.

If you tell him how excited you are about the trip though, he’ll make the extra effort to get up earlier and show he’s more enthusiastic.

Tim Drake

Tim’s not afraid to spend money on you and frequently you’ll find you don’t even need to go shopping. Since as soon as you mention one little thing you need, it’ll be right in your hands. He isn’t wrapped around your little finger though, but he wants to communicate to you that he listens to what you say.

Tim’s more of a business now, fun later type of man, you’ll go past shops that perhaps aren’t the highest on your hit list and he’ll grill you to make sure you don’t need anything from them. This leads to you going grocery shopping during your shopping trips.

He’ll hold some of your bags for you though, but only if you really need him too. He’s a firm believer that if he didn’t buy it, he shouldn’t have to deal with it.

The shopping trip is usually in the evening time, since he likes to do them after work. Nevertheless he’ll try and be sneaky occasionally by taking you earlier (this is when you end up going grocery shopping).

Damian Wayne

Damian genuinely doesn’t want to go. He’ll tell you to just go with your friends instead. So you’ll have to be cunning to try and inadvertently get him to agree to go shopping with you.

After a date you’ll make sure you walk a specific way past a store you want to go to. When you mention it Damian begrudgingly takes you, because it would be counterintuitive not to take you when you were so close to the store.

You two go to stores sparingly, it’s not something Damian finds necessary- the internet can be just as useful for shopping in his mind. Although you do argue that you can’t try clothes on- which circles back to the ‘just go with you friends’ solution.

Duke Thomas

Duke absolutely loves going shopping with you. He enjoys walking with you and going window shopping. Sometimes the pair of you will go on impromptu shopping sprees just because you saw something you liked in a window.

Your shopping days are well planned out and he’ll be more than happy to take the day off patrol just to be with you- instead he’ll go patrolling in the night.

Duke loves dragging you around various shops and explaining all his interests in intricate details. He’ll have a massive smile on his face the whole time, as he holds up various things to you and explains their relevance.

Duke is more than happy to wait outside changing rooms for you, no matter how long it takes. He’ll try and be nice about all the clothes you show him- if he doesn’t like any he’ll ask you nicely why you want it.

[sweemmy]

⋆｡ﾟIn their love, they bloom like a dark rose, its thorns only striking those who try to escape. ﾟ｡⋆

— Vi, Caitlyn, Sevika, and Jinx.

VI.

Vi would do anything to protect you, but her obsession consumes her, driving her to see threats in every corner, even where none exist. In her mind, danger lurks in the shadows, always watching, and you are the only one who can escape this threat... even if it isn’t real.

Her irritable nature compels her to act impulsively, before her mind has the chance to halt the torrent of emotions. She doesn’t hesitate to confront anyone, even if they are just a stranger who has approached you out of curiosity, convincing herself that anyone who crosses your path is a danger, no matter how harmless they seem.

Vi clings to her justification, arguing that her control is merely an expression of love, that everything she does is for your own good. But beneath those words lies a dark echo, as if she cannot fathom a world where you don’t need her, where her influence is not vital to your survival.

Her gestures of affection, far from being tender, are invasive and violent. Her hugs, excessive and tight, feel as if she could crush you. The words she whispers in your ear, filled with intensity, steal the air between you, with a fervor bordering on obsession, as if she’s marking you, immortalizing you in her world, only for herself.

Though her exterior is one of hardness, beneath that mask beats a deep fear: the fear of losing you. She knows that without you, her world would crumble, empty, incomplete. “If you don’t want me near, just tell me… but don’t expect me to stand idly by while someone tries to take away the only thing that gives my life meaning.”

CAITLYN.

Caitlyn becomes ensnared in her own whirlwind of thoughts, convinced that her obsessive love is the only thing capable of offering you the care you deserve. She sees herself as the only one who can truly understand and protect you, regardless of the boundaries she must cross to keep you by her side.

With a sharp, calculating mind, Caitlyn weaves invisible threads around your life, orchestrating every detail so subtly that you're barely aware of her control. From the people you allow into your circle to the places you step foot in, everything is meticulously designed to keep you under her sway.

Using her charm, Caitlyn spins a web of carefully chosen words, manipulating your perception with a smile that conceals the darkness lurking inside her. She has no qualms about distorting the truth, lying, and creating parallel realities, all to ensure you remain bound to her, oblivious to the trap you've fallen into.

Her control over you goes beyond the physical; Caitlyn becomes an emotional necessity, feeding your dependency with gestures that seem loving but are, in reality, invisible chains. She makes you feel as though you cannot breathe without her presence, turning herself into an irreplaceable part of your life, a constant shadow you cannot escape.

Anyone who dares to get close is seen as an immediate threat, and Caitlyn doesn’t need to resort to open violence. Her deadliest weapon is her influence, capable of destroying slowly, without anyone suspecting a thing. "Why waste time with them, darling? I’ll handle everything. It’s much better if you follow my suggestions; I promise everything will be fine."

SEVIKA.

Sevika sees you as hers—like a treasure no one else deserves to touch. Her obsession is a dangerous blend of control and overbearing protection. Should anyone dare to put you in harm's way, she will become the shadow that eliminates any threat, without remorse and with brutal precision.

Any intruder who gets too close will be stopped by her mere presence. The intensity of her gaze and the unyielding strength of her stance instill terror in even the bravest hearts. She needs no words: her silence is a warning, and her actions, the verdict.

Believing the world is a deadly trap for you, she begins to build a cage of isolation. Every argument she makes is wrapped in false sweetness: "It’s for your own good, trust me," while the chains of her obsession tighten a little more with each passing day.

Flowers and sweet words are not her style, but her actions speak louder than anything. The moment she senses you’re in danger, she will unleash an inhuman fury, showing just how far she’s willing to go to protect you.

Her emotions are a storm hidden beneath a mask of cold serenity. Every action is calculated, every decision made with precision. "I don’t need to shout to show you how much I love you. You see it in what I do, don't you?" she murmurs, her voice calm yet carrying a weight that leaves no doubt about the intensity of her devotion.

JINX.

Jinx would always watch you with eyes filled with obsession, as if you were her precious toy, meant only for her. Her love is no simple feeling: it’s a wild, unpredictable whirlwind, packed with emotional explosions and flashes of madness. She cannot stand anyone else getting your attention, and her “jokes” toward those who dare to come close often end in a macabre, lethal spectacle of destruction.

Within her chaos lies a desperate search for stability, and you are her anchor, but always on her terms. Trying to pull away or challenge her twisted world only triggers a collapse in her mind and a violent need to reaffirm her control over you.

Her love manifests in disturbingly creative forms: bombs adorned with hearts, explosive devices bearing your name, or "trophies" taken from those she deems rivals. Each one is a sickening declaration of how deep and dangerous her affection runs.

Her greatest fear is abandonment, trapped in the loneliness that haunts her. If she senses even the slightest hint that you might leave, she’ll do the unthinkable to make sure you stay by her side. It doesn’t matter if she has to chain you—literally or figuratively; in her mind, the end always justifies the means.

Jinx won’t hesitate to destroy—even herself—to keep you close. Her desperation drives her to dark extremes, hurting others or putting her own body at risk. “Do you see this? I did it for you. Now you can’t deny how much I care. You’re not going anywhere, are you?”

[bonkaii4]

Mel being an empath

(Okay i just got say arcane has sparked passion in me i haven’t felt for a show and fandom in yeeeears i haven’t written a meta in forever so bare with me.)

Anyway at first watching act 3 the reveal of Mel being empath felt crazy like that’s such a huge bomb that we didn’t get build up on or much follow through but i do think it explains so much about her character. Traditionally empaths are written to be overly emotional or sensitive sort of like telepaths and being smart but Mel wasn’t written like that she’s quite calm and collected her most emotional outbursts are with her mother and jayce and even with jayce it’s only because he’s hurling accusations at her and she still remains relatively calm in her responses. I think her knowing people’s emotions wether she was aware of this or not plays into this she knows Jayce is coming from a place of hurt and confusion where as her mother back in season one she knows she’s being disingenuous with the reasons of being in piltover.

First watch this just seems like a disgruntled daughter and her mother trying to get on her good side but knowing that Mel can read people’s emotions adds another layer she see right through her mother which not only from just being raised by her but through her her empath skills.

also wanted to bring this up someone pointed this out tiktok and someone else pointed out that this maybe because we’re seeing this scene through Mel’s POV and since she is empath she see that Maddie is secretly enjoying executing Caitlyn. This got me thinking about her career as council member/politician I’ve wondered how she got so high up while seemingly not only being the youngest member but being young period if she’s assumed to be Jayce’s and Victor’s age this makes her about 24-27 in s1 which is extremely young for council member which essentially this region’s governing body. Being able to sense people’s true intentions allowed her to know who to align herself who not to, knowing when people agreed and disagreed with her, or when people sympathize with your views, causes, or concerns on certain issues which all helped her advance quickly her career. I’m sure being from a high born house helped but we see other high born houses in council positions but they’re all older.

She also seems to be somewhat bored with politics and somewhat disillusioned when we meet her i mean giving a fellow council member a child’s toy almost like a practical joke doesn’t seem like someone who views politics and her colleagues with utmost seriousness it isn’t until she meets Jayce that we see the passion for change. I think being empath she saw that Jayce and Vicktor’s vision for hextech and Piltover and Zaun were pure and genuine which is why she supported them. I also hate the rhetoric that Mel never loved jayce and just manipulated for her own gain she does everything in her power to stay true to him and Vicktor’s vision she doesn’t push him to do anything that goes against their morals and goals. When Jayce is worried about Vicktor and his absence at the council may lead to she reassures she won’t let them corrupt their dream. Like i said early she isn’t written like a typical empath she also isn’t written like a typical manipulator(if you can call her that) she is genuine in what she’s says to Jayce she just also knows how people work and his feelings on the matter so she’s able to play on that.

Ambessa describes her to be too soft and she tells Jayce she didn’t Medarda standards i think the way she operates as empath is the cause of that I don’t think Mel is welling to corrupt herself or others when getting what she wants unlike her Mother and the rest of her family i think they operate much more cut through in their goals.

Whew anyway mind any typos i didn’t mean for this be as long as turned out just wanted to share revelation i had!:)

[dykedvonte]

I think a big misunderstanding is the power people give Curly to actually change things about the way the pony express operates or could’ve done things on the Tulpar.

We are talking about a company that docks pay for bad synergy despite mandated psych evals that should tell which staff members would work well together, only allots for 5 hours of sleep despite having literally no other tasks to truly do and locks all resources behind the access of one person. The last one is likely to manage resources and make it easier to justify collective punishment and blaming one person for it; someone needs something in “excess” or the captain gives in? It’s all on them your pay is docked. Instant resentment.

It’s insidious how the company works, it’s by design to distract you from coming after them, to force tensions to line their own pockets. With all the restrictions and forced interactions, altercations are bound to happen. 5 hours of sleep a day, limited sources of entertainment, no real tasks… the monotony alone would cause bad cabin fever, mix that with just only one absolute mediator and you get the exact environment that allows shit like in the game to happen.

The idea he could just complain and try to throw his weight around to get them to dig into their pocket for the crews comfort is laughable and misses the predatory and dehumanizing aspect of capitalism the Pony Express represents. Curly was and is still just another asset to them. Being a top show pony doesn’t mean he’s anywhere close to the actual top. He is the top of the working ladder, not whoever’s in corporate, he wouldn’t even be on the bottom step unlike what Jimmy perceives. The resounding recommendations he would get are almost mocking as they throw him out like nothing just like the rest. Being a shitty fucking company, how much do you bet they’d mean anything anyways, especially since he wanted to leave the field all together.

He made a fuss and they didn’t listen, he says he should’ve done more but you can tell he knows it wouldn’t have changed anything. Jobs like this are willing to make a sacrifice if it means even a penny more. Curly makes a bigger fuss they likely would’ve just found an “unrelated” reason to fire him, hired a more pliable guy or, terrifyingly, promoted Jimmy. The company was failing, going to shut down whether anything happened on the ship or not. But knowing that they were shutting down and that everyone, including him, would be out of a job with this being their last paycheck, he had to factor in not destroying the last bit of their financial stabilities combined with every other issue on the vessel and his own. He gets another cryopod or locks and then he has to break to them that they are not only fired but there will be substantial cuts to their paychecks due to the “upgrades” (things that already should’ve been in place on their part) on top of anything else that could be docked along the way.

You can blame him for saying it so early into the trip but then again, if he mentioned it later who’s to say it wouldn’t have been worse? On the capitalism side alone how would people in a galaxy away from home, out of a job and already stir crazy react? Don’t get me started on how Jimmy would have reacted if he realized he only had two days left to fix what would be a very hard to miss “problem” in his head…

I can’t even consider explaining this as devils advocate because it’s just facts of the world we and they live in and factors that heavily affected the situation. People are just so quick to make claims on the ease of the choices when P.E literally makes it hard to choose to do anything but suck it up.

[thegoogoomuckkk]

Will you be doing more the Club series? I miss it so much, I can’t wait for more it’s so hot.

club -> businessman -> nanami isn't exactly what you expected out of your third client. . .but that doesn't mean you're complaining

the time for being nervous had long since passed. any reservations you had about sleeping with the world’s strongest sorcerers had been shoved down deep inside; there wasn’t any time for that. between dancing at the club as usual & your nights spent with scheduled clients, there was hardly any time to spend with your thoughts, & maybe that was a good thing. there was time, however, to tear shiu a new asshole. 

“listen, they’ve already paid, doll. ain’t anything I can do about it now. besides, you’re always telling me I don’t pay you enough. I’m paying you plenty, now, aren’t I?”

“oh please, your cheap ass still isn’t paying me enough. they’re paying me,” you murmur, & he’s rolls his eyes. 

“you’re gettin’ paid, yeah? that’s all that matters. now was there something you needed, or do you just like to waste my time?”

“both,” you sneer, leaning over his desk, palms flat against the cheap mahogany. cheap, that was a good word to describe him. “who’s my sunday appointment?” 

his smile makes you violent. “can’t tell you that. just that he’s paid a shit ton for your appointment.”

“so when he murders me, you gonna sprinkle that cash over my grave?”

“he’s not gonna murder you, drama queen. I checked him out, he’s clean as can be.”

you left his office with more questions than answers. shiu knew who it was, but he wouldn’t tell you. 4 whole hours to a random stranger. you couldn’t dwell on it too long, you had a schedule to keep, & apparently so did your client. 10:15pm sharp.

this was gonna be easy-peasy, you thought, pulling the door open to the club. tonight worried you the least out of any of your appointments. a blowjob was the most mundane thing a man could’ve asked you for. 

you were sitting on the edge of the bed, cool & smooth, when the door swung open at 10:14pm. holy motherfucking shit. kento nanami was probably the most attractive man you’d ever seen. you were ready for him to grab you by the scalp & force his cock down your throat. in fact, you weren’t just ready for it, you wanted it. giving this fine piece a blowjob was going to be your pleasure. 

“hello.”

you bit back a laugh. “hi.” you surveyed him further, attempting to look past the face & muscles—as hard as it was—suit & tie, silver rolex, thinly-framed glasses. everything about him was arousing, you were having a hard time containing yourself. 

“so, it said ‘oral sex’ on your file,” you say matter-of-factly. there was no easy way to segue into these kinds of situations, but nanami seemed like a matter-of-fact kind of guy. & you liked that. 

"that's correct," nanami replied, his voice deep & smooth. he loosened his tie slightly as he approached you, his gaze intense behind those thin frames. "but I'd like to clarify something first."

“oh?” 

he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, & god, even that was hot. "I know that I…paid for your…services,” he clears his throat. & you can see it in his eyes, though they’re averted from yours. he’s embarrassed. good. “but I’m not interested in doing anything that you’re not explicitly comfortable with. so if, at any point, you’re not—comfortable, that is—then we’ll stop. is that clear?” 

you nod, thoughts too jumbled to say anything. but he doesn’t like that. maybe he doesn’t argue, but you can tell, he wants your verbal consent. “yes, nanami. it’s clear,” you try to tease, to be flirty, to be anything but disturbed by how hot this guy was. the pictures don’t do him justice. 

“good.” 

he eyes you like a predator as you stand up from your seated position & take a couple steps toward him. you subtly gesture for him to sit, but he gives you a confused look. “wouldn’t you rather lie down?” 

you snort. “lie down to suck your dick?” you give him the same confused, questioning gaze. "I guess if that’s how you want it.” 

a soft smile touches his lips. “pardon me, but I think you read my request wrong,” he says. “or at least, misinterpreted what I meant. I don’t play on letting you…” he doesn’t even think he can say it, but finally he spits out: “suck my dick,” in a hushed, humiliated tone. “by oral sex, I meant, giving.” 

“oh.” 

“yes, oh.” 

you retreat back to where you were sitting, the backs of your knees bumping against the bed. yes, per your request, shiu had finally moved you to a room with a bed. he follows your movements, both with his eyes & body. 

you were. . .what was this feeling? nervous? excited? no, confused. this man was paying to eat you out. it would be physically impossible for him to be more attractive. but. . .why? why couldn’t he get a girlfriend to do this with? you can’t imagine what straight woman wouldn’t want that.

“may I kiss you?” he accepts your nod this time, & leans down to press his lips against yours. he was so big & tall. he commanded your space, forced his way into it until all you could comprehend was the presence of him. his lips on yours, his teeth tugging on your bottom lip, his hands finding their grip on your waist. you let him push you both back, until you're flush with the bed, head softly rested on the pillows, his knee on the cheap comforter in between your thighs. 

your breath catches in your throat as nanami hovers over you, his eyes dark with desire. he pulls back slightly, his fingers tracing the curve of your jaw. "Is this alright?" he asks, his voice low & husky.

you nod eagerly, then remember his preference for verbal consent. "yes," you breathe. "more than alright."

a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he leans in again, this time trailing kisses along your neck. his hands move to push up your shirt, his touch leaving goosebumps in its wake. you arch into him, desperate for more contact.

nanami takes his time, methodically undressing you between kisses & caresses. his touch is reverent, almost worshipful, as he explores every inch of newly exposed skin. his gaze roams over your body, appreciation evident in his eyes. "beautiful," he murmurs, & a small wire snaps in your stomach. this was not a regular session; you didn’t have this kind of sex with…anyone, really, but especially not club patrons. in fact, you can’t remember a time in which a customer went down on you, ever. & more concerning was: you wanted him to, despite how…personal it was. 

 you squirm beneath him, desperate for more. "patience," he murmurs against your collarbone, & you’re sure the deep bass of his voice vibrates straight to your cunt. he trails his lips down your neck, between your breasts, & he seems fixated there for a while, mouth wrapped around the soft skin, sucking the nipple, his other palming your breast, & you let out a breathless whine. he slides his fingers down to your underwear, pressing the pads of them firmly against the soft fabric covering your clit. he rubs soft & slow, & you’re so deeply concerned by how good it feels. needless to say, this is not what you were expecting. finally, he allows himself to bring his lips down to your panties, licking the already wet spot covering the front of them. he hooks his fingers through the material around your hips, slowly pulling them down. 

your breath catches as the cool air hits your exposed skin. he lets out a low groan at the sight of you, vulnerable & wanting. his warm breath ghosts over your inner thighs as he moves closer, planting soft kisses along sensitive skin. you shiver in anticipation, hands fisting in the sheets.

he teases you mercilessly, lips & tongue exploring everywhere but where you need him most. just when you think you can't take it anymore, he finally, finally drags his tongue along your slick folds. you cry out, hips bucking involuntarily. he holds you steady with strong hands on your thighs as he works you over with his mouth, alternating between broad strokes & focused attention on your clit. his strong hands grip your thighs, holding you open for him. the pleasure builds steadily as he works you with his tongue, fucking it in & out of you, nose bumping against your clit. & when he decides that’s just not quite enough, he presses one finger softly in & out of your dripping hole. never pushing it all the way in ‘cause he doesn’t want to hurt you. 

your body tenses as the sensation builds to an almost unbearable intensity. with a muffled cry, you tumble over the edge into blissful release. waves of pleasure crash over you as your muscles clench rhythmically around his fingers. he doesn't let up, working you through each aftershock until you're gasping & oversensitive.

only then does he slowly withdraw his fingers & place a gentle kiss on your inner thigh. you lie there panting, feeling boneless & sated.

but he’s not done, you realize, hiking your thighs over his shoulders, burying his face into your cunt again. you’ve barely had time to recover & he’s starting his ministrations again, this time harder & faster, & you writhe in his grip, mewling & whimpering about it’s “t-too much, can’t-can’t take it.” 

your brain goes soft & fuzzy when he says, “you can take it, m’gonna give it to you.” you’re sure no one has ever taken more pleasure out of giving oral sex than nanami is right now. 

his tongue swirls relentlessly, finding every sensitive spot as if he's memorized your body. you arch your back, fingers tangling in his hair as waves of sensation crash over you. it's overwhelming, almost painful in its intensity, but you can't bring yourself to push him away.

"that's it," he murmurs against your flesh, the vibrations making you shudder. 

you're trembling, teetering on the edge of overstimulation. but nanami is relentless, his strong hands gripping your thighs to keep you spread open for him. you're making sounds you've never heard yourself make before—desperate, needy whimpers punctuated by breathless gasps.

just when you think you can't take anymore, he sucks hard on your clit & you shatter. your second orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, & you’re seeing spots, tugging painfully on his hair, nails raking against his spiky undercut, & he’s moaning into your cunt. if you were anywhere near coherency right now, you’d notice him pathetically humping against the mattress, mindlessly, too focused on your pretty pussy to actually get off. 

“nanami,” you whine. he looks up at you with hooded eyes, covered by his lashes. 

“did you want to stop?” 

"I-i–no, I just—you don’t have to do that anymore, not if you don’t want to.” it’s hard to say anything, to think after having his mouth on you, his tongue in you. but you do your best, try to sit up on your elbows .”we can do s-someth—”

"I'd like to continue doing this.” it’s so direct, so stern, but pleading also. "If you’re alright with that.” 

you can’t help but nod along, brain soft, thoughts gone. "y-yes," you manage to stammer out, your voice barely above a whisper. "please."

nanami's eyes flash with something intense, a mix of desire & determination. without another word, he lowers his head again, his warm breath ghosting over your sensitive skin. you shiver in anticipation, your body already yearning for his touch.

his tongue resumes its exploration, slow & deliberate at first, then growing more insistent. you fall back onto the bed, unable to support yourself any longer. your fingers tangle in his hair, not guiding, just needing something to hold onto as waves of pleasure wash over you. 

you can’t fathom what this could possibly be doing for him, but it’s obvious that he’s enjoying this in some perverse way; not that you were complaining. you lost track of how many times you came on his tongue, but a soft alarm went off in your soft, pliant head after a while. it had been a lot longer than an hour & a half. but with how good he made you feel, you didn’t think charging him was fair. 

regardless of how you felt, the next day, there was far more money than shiu had charged him & a bouquet of roses on your makeup table. all the girls ooh’ed & ahh’ed at it when you walked in. everyone wanted to see, but you kept the little note to yourself. it was thick cardstock paper that somehow smelt like his cologne. 

"I know roses are cliche, but I didn’t know what you liked. after last night, I'd love to know what else you like.”

crazy that you sent this, anon, because I literally woke up this morning wondering why I never finished this series?? I'm on it 🫡 did you like it? -> here's my masterlist -> want something more? ask me for it

[trender-official]

do you have any general ideas for what a yandere jayce talis x reader would be like

i have MANY thoughts about this. first of all i don’t think jayce would ever know he’s yandere. and i don’t think you’d recognize it at first either!! i think he’d be very protective after the attack on the council but not so much before hand. i think he’d be very trusting of you, honestly. i don’t think he’d ever be scared of you leaving more so of you being TAKEN. i’ll give some specifics bellow the cut

let’s start off with you and him in a viktor type scenario

you’re lab partners

i think this is where he would trust you the most

he knows you’re not scheming or anything like that

he genuinely believes you would never turn your back on him

(which means if you do it gets… bad. only time he’d get violent)

you’d likely be spending most of your time together early on(pre councilor jayce)

so he doesn’t feel the need to worry!

but after…

oh boy.

he would station guards outside your lab… just in case

one with you when you go to lunch too

ESPECIALLY if you’re publicly together

he would definitely not let you go anywhere by yourself

he would usually listen to you on matters, except when it came to hextech in weapons

he wouldn’t give a fuck lol

he’d have too much at stake

he’d definitely use his status on the council to manipulate you (not that he knows that’s what he’s doing)

he’d tell you “it would be so easy for people to target you without enforcers there! they’d do anything to get to me”

and you honestly can’t argue

which is what starts to sow anger in you

because your so used to being able to argue with him and that being your means of communication

but he’d just have so much power over you

you wouldn’t be equals anymore (not that he’d see that)

now if you were in mel’s position

i think he’d be a lot more protective and a lot less trusting

he’d definitely feel intimidated by your power and work to undermine that a lot

this is the only time i can imagine him using his physical strength to overpower you

it makes him feel better about himself

he’d probably try to force you to retire

especially after the attack

not because he thinks your incompetent!

but because he’s scared for you

he doesn’t even think HE should be a councilor after that LOL

he would probably try to bribe your guards for info on what you’re doing

just to keep tabs

he’d probably try to distract you from arguments with affection too

because he doesn’t like to argue with you anymore

he doesn’t want to be forced to see that you’re equals

even though he’d never admit if you weren’t

he’d probably want to take the relationship more public

so he could guilt you with it

because it would make you look bad if you broke up!!

very centered on looks in this scenario

he’d def dress you up a lot

very gilded cage core

would want to be married super quick

and have kids(if ur able ofc)

you have to continue great minds!!

anyway i think this one is worse

to say the least

either way, jayce is honestly not the worst yandere to end up with!! he’s probably the best in arcane at least.

[messyoungie]

HABITS TO DROP WHEN GETTING YOUR LIFE TOGETHER

➝ CREATING UNAUTHENTIC & UNINTENTIONAL GOALS

the biggest mistakes you can make when creating goals is making goals that aren’t true to you and making goals for the sake of making goals.

it can be so exciting when you decide to get your life together. I mean, of course it is! there are so many possibilities! but when you start planning, don’t just write down the goals you see circulating on social media. what works for someone else may not be what works for you. don’t make your goals and habits based on what’s trending or popular in the self improvement community.

think about what you actually need for a minute. what is actually necessary? your goals and habits aren’t here to be glamorous, they’re here to help regardless of how simple or small they are. the point of thinking up new habits is to improve your life, so be intentional with your goals. what will practicing this habit or achieving this goal give you?

when you’re first starting out, your goals don’t have to be anything too crazy or intense. for example, let’s say you want to become a pink pilates girl and get into fitness. you shouldn’t jump right into it and say your goal is to work out for 2 hours 5 times a week. let’s consider some factors first. have you been living a completely sedentary kind of lifestyle? then try looking for exercises that’ll wake up dormant muscles. your goal should then be to repeat those exercises for how ever many times a week. then you’ll work your way up from there. (it’s important we don’t harm the body, so be mindful with your fitness goals.) what about your schedule? how much time can you actually give to working out? can your body even endure working out for that long?

anyways, hopefully you see what I mean. when creating goals, it’s not about having the “aesthetic” habits and goals that you may see on tiktok or tumblr. it’s about doing what is actually good for you and what’ll help you the most with where you are now in your journey. so please put some thought into your goals and where they’ll take you. creating unauthentic and unintentional habits will also mean you’ll be less likely to keep practicing them after a few times. at the end of the day, that doesn’t help you achieve anything and you’re left with a broken promise you’ve made to yourself. which leads me to my next point…

➝ NOT KEEPING YOUR WORD WHEN IT COMES TO YOU

let me start off by saying this— if you don’t even listen to yourself, why should anyone else? (harsh, ik)

a HUGE reason as to why people have no self confidence is because they don’t listen to themselves or keep the promises they’ve made to themselves. if you have no self trust, how could you have any self confidence?

now, building discipline can definitely be a challenge so if you want to start somewhere easy, nip your false promises in the bud and stop yourself from making them. that’s what I did when I was first trying to stop this habit. when my addiction to tiktok was at its peak I would always tell myself the usual “ten more minutes and then I’ll stop scrolling.” when I wanted to stop making false promises, I knew I had no control or discipline so the only thing I could do is be real with myself. I’d cut myself off when I heard myself say “five more minutes” because I knew it wasn’t going to happen. if I wasn’t going to quit my bad habit, then the least I could do is be honest with myself.

the things that you are constantly telling yourself, whether they’re mindless or intentional, matter.

so, stop telling yourself seemingly harmless lies. unnecessary false promises that you know are false will only fill you with tension.

➝ SEEING FAILURE AS AN INVITATION TO GIVE UP

this applies to so many things.

you wanted to be consistent with your reading goals but haven’t read a chapter in a week? dont give up. don’t tell yourself that being consistent is too hard for you, that since you missed a week this habit isn’t for you. make your goal a bit easier or give yourself another chance.

you wanted to spend more time doing art but it’s not turning out how you expected? dont give up. dont give yourself the title of a “bad artist” and never pick up a pencil again. move forward, give yourself another chance.

you wanted to quit your Instagram addiction but after a couple days you went back to scrolling for hours on ig reels? Don’t give up. dont tell yourself that this addiction isn’t gonna go away, don’t go back to the bad habit because you slipped up. give yourself another chance.

I think a lot of us (myself included) tend to give up at the first sign of failure, instead of reminding ourselves to keep going. it’d be wonderful if you could get it right on the first try. if you could read ten books a month right away after not reading a book in three years. if you could watch hours worth of tutorials and sketch the perfect portrait on the first attempt. if you could uninstall instagram for good and never feel the urge to go back. that would all be so amazing, but it’s not always the reality. expect the best from yourself and do the best you can, but also give yourself some compassion. keep in mind that you won’t always do things perfectly right away and that’s one thousand percent okay. when you feel yourself slipping up on your brand new goal, don’t end it there at the first failure. allow yourself to move forward, because the only other direction to move is backwards.

[p0orbaby]

Why Do I Give You the Worst of Me (1)

summary: love and bad decisions collide as you struggle to balance a tour and a relationship that’s spiraling out of control

warnings: 18+ adult themes throughout

a/n: another series i’m hoping i don’t regret committing myself to… not sure how many parts it’ll be, i don’t plan anything

word count: 3.1k

-

You wake up face-first on a sofa that smells like cigarettes, spilled beer, and faintly, vomit. Not yours, you think. The synthetic fabric is scratchy against your cheek, and when you open your eyes, it takes a moment to realise it’s morning—sunlight cutting through the cracked blinds, striping the floor with dusty light. The sofa is mustard yellow, ugly in a deliberate, trying-too-hard-to-be-retro way. It doesn’t belong to you. Nothing in this flat belongs to you.

There’s a girl in the kitchen, humming softly to herself as she pours cereal into a bowl. You don’t know her name, but you know she wears Chanel No. 5 because it’s all you could smell last night when she leaned too close, whispering something you didn’t quite catch. Her hair’s a mess now—like spun gold caught in a tangle of barbed wire—but her makeup is still pristine. She’s the kind who sets her eyeliner with setting spray before going out, even if it’s just to the pub. You admire the commitment, if not the execution.

Your head throbs—a deep, insistent ache behind your eyes that reminds you of last night in bits and pieces: the gig (decent, though the sound guy fucked up your monitor levels), the afterparty (loud, sweaty, a haze of bodies and smoke), the lines of coke on a chipped coffee table, the bartender who kept giving you free shots because he recognised you from that NME interview last month. At some point, someone tried to fight you, though you’re not sure why. You vaguely remember smashing a bottle of tequila against a wall and laughing as glass shards rained down like confetti.

You roll onto your back and stare at the ceiling, which is peeling in a way that suggests years of neglect, a building held together more by stubbornness than actual structural integrity. There’s a stain in the corner that looks suspiciously like mould, but you don’t care enough to investigate. The flat isn’t yours, after all. You were invited here by someone whose name escapes you now—a bassist from another band, or maybe it was their girlfriend? They’re gone this morning, anyway, leaving behind only the detritus of a night well-lived: empty bottles, crushed cigarette packets, a single black stiletto abandoned near the door like a fairy-tale gone wrong.

You light a cigarette, despite the pounding in your head and the fact that you’re pretty sure it’s technically illegal to smoke indoors here. The girl in the kitchen glances at you but doesn’t say anything. You’re not sure if she’s annoyed or indifferent; you don’t care. The smoke curls lazily toward the ceiling, and for a moment, you let yourself enjoy the quiet. Mornings like this are rare—where everything is still and soft, where the chaos of your life is temporarily held at bay by the thin walls of someone else’s flat.

Your bass is propped up against the armchair, scratched and battered in a way that tells a story if you care to look closely enough. It’s a Fender Precision, black with a white pickguard, the same model Sid Vicious used to play—not that you’d ever admit that’s why you bought it. The neck has a gouge near the third fret from when you threw it at a sound tech who deserved it (and missed). The strap is leather, worn smooth where it rests on your shoulder, and the bridge still has flecks of blood from the time you played so hard your fingers split open mid-song. You keep meaning to clean it, but you never do.

You check your phone, which is cracked and sticky with something you don’t want to identify. No new messages, except for a text from your drummer that reads: “u alive?” You don’t bother replying.

-

You’ve been in the band for five years now, though it feels longer. It started as a joke—a group of friends fucking around in someone’s garage, trying to see who could play the loudest, the fastest, the most obnoxious. Somewhere along the way, it became serious. There was a DIY EP, recorded in one manic weekend on borrowed gear, and a string of gigs in dingy pubs where the audiences were more interested in drinking than listening. Then came the break—a slot supporting a bigger band, one of those industry darlings who’d already started to hate themselves for selling out. The kind of band that wears matching outfits ironically, even though everyone knows it’s not ironic at all.

Now, you play sold-out shows to crowds who scream your lyrics back at you, though most of them probably couldn’t name your second album. Your face has been on the cover of Kerrang! twice, though you didn’t bother reading the articles. You hate interviews, but you do them anyway because your manager insists. You’re better at the photoshoots—smirking at the camera in a way that suggests you don’t care (you do).

The band is your life, though you wouldn’t call it that. Calling it your life makes it sound like you have some sort of plan, and you don’t. You’re just here, playing gigs and writing songs and doing whatever it takes to keep the wheels from falling off.

Your bandmates are a mixed bag of personalities, each one a walking caricature in their own way. There’s Matt, the drummer, who swears he’s been abducted by aliens and won’t shut up about it. Alex, the lead guitarist, is constantly high and insists on bringing his cat on tour, which you find deeply annoying. And then there’s Holly, the singer, who somehow manages to be both the most chaotic and the most responsible member of the group. She’s the one who organises rehearsals, books the studio time, and keeps you all from self-destructing entirely. You love her for it, even if you’d never say it out loud.

The girl in the kitchen finishes her cereal, rinses the bowl, and leaves without saying goodbye. You watch her go, not because you care but because there’s nothing else to do. When the door slams shut, the flat feels even smaller, like the walls are pressing in on you. You stub out your cigarette, grab your bass, and leave too.

-

Outside, London is already alive, though you wouldn’t call it awake. The streets are sticky from last night—spilled pints and kebab wrappers crushed into the pavement, cigarette butts floating in puddles of something that smells suspiciously like piss. The air has that distinct urban flavour: exhaust fumes mingling with fryer grease and the faint tang of wet concrete. You pull your leather jacket tighter around you, not because it’s cold (it is), but because it completes the look.

The jacket is vintage—or at least you tell people it is. In reality, you bought it at a high-street shop three years ago, and it’s held up surprisingly well, considering the abuse it’s endured. The lining is torn, the cuffs are frayed, and there’s a mysterious stain on the back you can’t quite place. But it’s yours, and it feels like armour. The boots, on the other hand, are real vintage: a pair of Dr Martens from the ‘90s you found in a thrift shop in Brighton. They’re scuffed to hell, and the left one squeaks when you walk, but you refuse to replace them because they’re authentic.

You head toward the Tube station, your bass slung over one shoulder like a soldier carrying a rifle. People stare, but only briefly. In London, no one has the energy to care for long. The morning commuters are a mix of suits and students, their faces blank, their eyes glazed over as they clutch takeaway coffees in one hand and their phones in the other. You feel out of place but also weirdly superior, like you’ve cracked some code they haven’t even realised exists yet.

You hop on the Northern line, ignoring the signs that politely request passengers to “refrain from eating or drinking.” You’re not eating or drinking, but you do pull out a cigarette, which is arguably worse. It’s a roll-up, so you convince yourself it doesn’t count. An old woman glares at you, clutching her handbag like she thinks you’re about to mug her. You offer her a crooked smile, which she does not return, and you put the cigarette back in your pocket because she reminds you of your nan.

The train screeches into motion, and you pull out your phone. The lock screen is a photo of your bass, which says a lot about you. There are a few notifications—mostly spam emails and an unread message from Holly: Rehearsal at 2. Don’t be late, dickhead.

You glance at the time. 11:47 a.m. Plenty of time.

-

The rehearsal space is in Camden, a dingy basement that smells of mildew and unwashed socks. The walls are lined with egg cartons painted black in a half-hearted attempt at soundproofing, and the floor is sticky for reasons you’d rather not think about. The room has seen better days—probably in the ‘80s, when it was still a nightclub and not a haven for struggling musicians. There’s a single fluorescent bulb overhead that flickers ominously, and a space heater in the corner that’s never worked.

Holly is already there when you arrive, tuning her guitar with the precision of someone who takes this far more seriously than you do. She’s wearing a denim jacket covered in patches for bands you’ve never heard of, her hair tied back in a messy ponytail. She looks up as you walk in, her expression equal parts exasperation and relief.

“Christ, you smell like an ashtray,” she says, wrinkling her nose.

“It’s called branding,” you reply, dropping your bass onto the floor with a thud.

Matt and Alex show up ten minutes later, looking even worse than you do. Matt has the kind of face that always looks slightly hungover, even when he’s not, and Alex is wearing the same shirt he wore yesterday, now with an impressive new stain across the front.

The rehearsal starts late, as it always does, and quickly descends into chaos. Matt insists on playing a drum solo during every song, despite the fact that no one asked for it. Alex keeps stopping mid-riff to check his phone, claiming he’s “waiting for an important call,” though everyone knows it’s just his dealer. Holly shouts at both of them until her voice cracks, then turns her frustration on you for being “completely fucking useless.” You take it in stride, plucking random notes on your bass and pretending to care.

-

At some point, Holly storms out, leaving the three of you to your own devices. Matt immediately pulls out a joint, which Alex lights with a lighter shaped like a naked woman. You lean back against the wall, your bass resting against your thigh, and watch as they argue over which fast-food place to hit up after rehearsal.

“McDonald’s is closer,” Alex says, taking a drag.

“But KFC’s got the gravy,” Matt counters, waving his arms for emphasis.

“It’s not even real gravy,” Alex snaps.

“None of it’s real,” you interject, flicking ash onto the floor. “We’re all just cogs in the capitalist machine.”

They stare at you for a moment, then go back to arguing.

-

By the time rehearsal ends, it’s dark outside. You pack up your gear, ignoring Holly’s death glare as she reminds you for the millionth time that you need to take this more seriously. You nod, mumble something about “artistic integrity,” and leave before she can yell at you again.

Back on the street, the air is crisp, the kind of cold that bites at your skin and makes you wish you’d brought a scarf. You light another cigarette, even though you’ve already smoked half a pack today, and head toward the pub.

The pub is your sanctuary, a place where time slows down and the only thing that matters is the next round. It’s a dive, the kind of place where the carpet sticks to your shoes and the jukebox is permanently stuck on a rotation of The Clash and The Smiths. You know the bartender by name, though you’re not sure if he knows yours.

You order a pint and settle into a corner booth, your bass case propped up beside you. The first sip is like a warm hug, washing away the stress of the day. You’re halfway through your second pint when you see her.

-

You don’t notice her at first. Not properly. She’s part of the blur—the dim bar lights catching on glasses, the low hum of half-drunken conversation, the vague sense that you’ve been here before even if you haven’t. She’s leaning against the counter, waiting for her drink, and it’s not until the bartender—a man whose name might be Pete but who you’re pretty sure is just “Oi, mate” to everyone who comes in—hands her a gin and tonic that you actually see her.

And it’s a gin and tonic. Not a lager, not a rum and coke, not something ironic like a snakebite or one of those craft beers with names like Hops and Robbers. It’s a G&T, clean and crisp, with a slice of lime balanced on the rim like it’s posing for a stock photo. The glass is crystal clear, and so are her nails—short, practical, painted the sort of soft pink that suggests she doesn’t chew them during stressful moments (unlike you). She takes the drink with both hands, like she’s steadying herself, and there’s something about that—the deliberateness of it—that hooks you.

You tell yourself you’re just looking because she’s there. Because it’s either her or the guy at the next table who’s been droning on about Bitcoin for twenty minutes straight. But it’s more than that. There’s a stillness to her, an odd kind of clarity that doesn’t fit in a place like this, like she’s wandered in from a parallel universe.

She turns slightly, and you catch her profile: sharp nose, strong jawline, cheekbones that could cut glass but probably wouldn’t because she seems far too polite. Her hair is blonde—not platinum, not peroxide, but the kind of natural gold that makes you think of expensive shampoo and childhood summers. It’s tied back loosely, wisps framing her face in a way that seems accidental but probably isn’t.

She’s not wearing makeup. Or maybe she is, but it’s the invisible kind—the kind that takes forty-five minutes to apply but looks like you’ve just rolled out of bed looking flawless. Her jumper is navy, oversized enough to suggest she might have nicked it from someone else’s wardrobe, paired with jeans that sit perfectly at her hips without being skinny. On her feet are white trainers—clean, like freshly ironed bedsheets—Adidas, the classic three stripes in black, laces tied neatly, no fraying ends.

You’re staring. You know you are. But she hasn’t noticed, so it doesn’t count.

The bartender mutters something to her, and she laughs. Not the loud, performative laugh you hear from most people in bars, but something softer, like it’s meant for her and her alone. The sound is so out of place in this dingy pub that it feels almost sacrilegious, like someone’s brought a cathedral choir to sing in a nightclub.

You tell yourself to look away. You don’t.

Instead, you light a cigarette, even though the pub is strictly non-smoking. You do it for the aesthetic, the same way you do most things. There’s a half-empty pint in front of you—lager, flat and warm, probably with someone else’s fingerprints on the glass—but you take a sip anyway, because what else are you going to do?

She turns then, her gaze sweeping the room, and you’re caught like a deer in headlights. For a second, you think she’s looking at you, but she’s not. She’s looking past you, at the dartboard on the wall behind your head. Her expression is curious, like she’s trying to figure out why anyone would bother playing darts in a place like this.

Then her eyes meet yours, and the world tilts.

It’s not love at first sight, not really. Love at first sight is for Disney films and Hallmark cards and people who shop at Waitrose without looking at the prices. This is something else. Recognition, maybe. Like you’ve seen her before in a dream or a half-remembered story someone told you once. Like you’ve spent your whole life waiting for this moment without knowing it.

She holds your gaze for a second longer than is polite. Then she looks away, back at her gin and tonic, and you realise you’ve been holding your breath.

-

You don’t approach her right away. That would be too obvious, too predictable. Instead, you wait, watching her out of the corner of your eye while pretending to scroll through your phone. It’s a shitty phone, cracked and outdated, but you’ve never bothered upgrading because you secretly enjoy the low expectations it sets. No one looks at you and expects success when your phone screen is held together with Sellotape.

She moves to a table in the corner, near the radiator, and sits down alone. No book, no laptop, no visible excuse to be here other than the gin and tonic in her hand. She sips it slowly, methodically, like she’s savouring it. Like she’s savouring this.

You wonder what her story is.

Is she waiting for someone? A friend, a boyfriend, a clandestine meeting with a lover? Or is she just one of those people who can sit alone in public without feeling like a target? You’ve never understood that kind of confidence—the kind that lets you exist without an audience, without a role to play.

You take another sip of your pint, then decide, fuck it.

You stand, grab your bass (because leaving it behind would feel like abandoning a child), and make your way across the room. Your boots squeak against the sticky floor, and you curse them under your breath. She looks up as you approach, her expression unreadable.

“Mind if I join you?” you ask, gesturing vaguely at the empty chair across from her.

She hesitates, just for a moment, then nods.

“Sure.”

Her voice is soft, but not shy. Measured. Like she’s weighing every word before she says it.

You sit, placing your bass case carefully against the table leg. For a moment, neither of you speaks. You’re not sure what to say, and she seems content to let the silence stretch. It’s not uncomfortable, exactly, but it’s not easy, either.

Finally, she breaks it.

“You’re in a band,” she says, nodding toward the bass. It’s not a question.

You smile. “Yeah. What gave it away?”

She raises an eyebrow, and you realise it’s a stupid question.

“What’s the band called?”

You tell her, and she nods, like she’s vaguely heard of it but couldn’t name a single song.

“I’m Alessia,” she says, holding out her hand. Her grip is firm, her skin warm.

“Nice to meet you,” you reply, and for the first time in a long time, you actually mean it.

[sleepyparalysisdmon]

Ateez when you simp for them

Genre: fluff

Requested? No!

A/N: inspired by literally every ateez video I’ve ever seen because it’s just not possible to pick a bias sometimes.

Hongjoong

Does not know how to accept this. Will give you a blank stare and ask ‘what is happening right now’ because he’s confused. You could squish his face and demand that he accept your love, and he’ll give you wide eyes while saying ‘… okay.’ Really touched if he thinks about it later but it’s overwhelming in the moment.

Seonghwa

A shy baby that will fold into himself at the slightest compliment. Don’t get me wrong, he knows he’s attractive. He just strikes me as the kind of person that doesn’t take compliments well. Still, he enjoys it when you get on a roll about how good he looked in something.

Yunho

Tells you all the time in a way that you should be simping. He’ll get something down for you from a high shelf or lift something heavy for you and will say something like ’Don’t worry, you’re big, strong, attractive boyfriend will take care of it’. He’s joking most of the time, but heaven forbid you ‘yes and’ him. He might faint actually.

Yeosang

Smug pt 1. Will smile and nod, accepting anything you have to say. Won’t fish for compliments because he knows he’s hot, but will let you go on for as long as you want, getting a bit of an ego boost from it.

San

Smug pt 2. BUT will absolutely fish for compliments. Will ‘yes and’ you to hear what else you have to say, all while giving you a smug smile. I think he knows he’s attractive, but really loves to hear it from you until you’re blue in the face. It soothes any doubts that might crop up from time to time.

Mingi

Another shy baby, but prepare for the whining. Will flush and beg you to stop. He doesn’t mean it deep down, but his heart can’t take it!! Because what do you mean you simp for him the way he does for you? Cannot make sense of that so he tries to get you to stop to avoid being confused.

Wooyoung

He knows he’s hot. He tells you all the time. If you even remotely simp in front of him, he’ll ‘yes and’ you until your lungs give out. Will do it with a sly smile, head propped up in his hand, nodding at anything you say. “Yes, baby. You’re so right. I did look good in that video.” Can you even be mad at him when he’s right?

Jongho

Will scoff and tell you to get it together like he’s so over it. But really, he’s soaking up any and all compliments you have for him and kind of prays you don’t actually get it together. But you will never hear him admit to that!! Will do things on purpose to try to get you to simp a little every now and then.

[halfwayhearted]

Maps — Jobe Bellingham.

Pairing: Jobe Bellingham x Fem!Reader

Summary: Noticing the not-so-subtle stares of the man you wanted but couldn’t have was something you despised.

Word Count: 775+

Disclaimer/s — Slight angst-ish… argument, that’s it.

A/N: The idea I originally had for this like, left my mind in the middle of writing so the ending is so ohr… rushed… hey. Hey!

Why couldn’t he make up his mind? Did he want you? Did he not? It was like holding a flower and delicately picking off the petals, playing the game of ‘he loves me,’ ‘he loves me not.’ It was tiring.

You didn’t know, nor could you tell. It was enough to make you lose it. Spending seconds, minutes, and hours on the situation only to push it aside. Telling yourself not to keep this going. But how could you do that when he always made you feel like you could actually mean something to him?

It pissed you off more than you cared to admit.

What pissed you off even more was the fact that Jobe was staring at you from across the room, his fingers running over his bottom lip and his eyes narrowed while the guy you were speaking to let out a laugh at something you had said. Seriously?

You told yourself that you were fine, you could do this. Don’t let him get to you. He wasn’t worth it.

Maybe you would have listened to your own advice if the man in front of you hadn’t stiffened and asked, “You know who that is over there?”

Already knowing who he was referring to, you refrain from sighing and instead excuse yourself. Wasting no time, you stride toward the man who slowly smirks up at you. Oh, you hated him.

“What the hell are you trying to accomplish?” You snap, your gaze never leaving his even when he stands up and shoves his hands into his pockets.

“I’m not trying to ‘accomplish’ anything.” Oh boy, he was insufferable! You couldn’t stand him at all.

Yet you still couldn’t find it in yourself to pull away when he gently grasps your forearms and guides you to a secluded area outside, thinking it was because your voice was raising and he didn’t want anyone to focus their attention on the both of you.

The second you’re aware that it’s just the two of you, you inhale sharply. “If you think you can just ghost me for days on end and then stare at anybody who’s even an inch in my vicinity the way you’re staring, then you’re wrong,” you snap, hands clenching. “Is it really that hard to make up your mind? I don’t—I don’t get you at all, Jobe!”

When he opens his mouth to speak, you quickly continue, “I will not wait for someone who doesn’t know what or who they want. I just won’t.”

After a few seconds pass, Jobe just simply stares at you, his jaw clenched and eyes narrowed, as if he’s contemplating how to handle the situation.

“Of course,” you scoff. “Whatever—I’m done.” Turning around, you’re about to walk away when he lets out a sigh and tugs you back toward him, making you roll your eyes and take a step back.

The man wets his lips, “I do know what I want.”

“Do you? Then tell me, what is it that you want?”

“You,” he responds almost instantly, making you suck in a breath. But you won’t give in that easily.

“Your way of showing it could use a little work.”

Taking a step toward you, he speaks once again, “Listen—I was… stupid before. I’m sure now.”

“You say you can’t be with me. Then you say that you won’t be able to be with me. Now I’m who you want? I don’t need you playing in my face.”

How did he go about this? You wouldn’t believe him. Rightfully so. Now that he was finally here and able to admit how he felt, he couldn’t help but feel that he was too late. Was he too late?

“What can I do?” He questions, his tone of voice quiet and soft. “Tell me what I can do; I’ll do it.”

Your eyes narrow. He was telling the truth, indeed he was. It didn’t even matter to you. Not anymore.

That’s what you kept telling yourself, but his next words changed your mind in an instant: “Will you have dinner with me? Let me just prove it to you.”

Let me prove it to you. All the resolve you had mustered up disintegrated into thin air and you found yourself letting out a sigh, “One dinner.”

“One dinner?” He echoes. “That’s—okay. Deal.”

Right, deal. You give Jobe one last look before walking past him. Once he’s alone, he starts coming up with different plans for your dinner. This is his one chance to prove to you that he’s, well, sorry and that you’re the one he wants.

And the man will make sure to prove both to you.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @planetpedri + @spidybaby + @iovepoem + @sakashq + @joaoflms ! ౨ৎ

[junkpuppetj]

You turn your eyes away and put all your focus on the nothing between your fingers as he slumps down beside you on the step and tosses his bow somewhere behind him. Daryl doesn’t say anything as he pulls one of Shelly’s cigarettes from his pocket and lights it quickly - taking a few deep drags before offering it to you.

You hesitate and he shrugs, taking it back with a grunt. You sit in awkward silence as he smokes his cigarette and you study your hands, both of your minds racing. After another few puffs he offers the cigarette to you again and you take it between your fingers, bringing it to your own lips quickly.

“Would you kiss me?” The question rushes from your lungs with the exhale of smoke and you watch Daryl’s back go stiff, turning his head to the side slowly as he glares at you. “What?”

“Maggie said you would, kiss me…, but I don’t think so.” You hand him back the cigarette and watch as he takes a deep pull of smoke into his lungs, holding it for a long time before finally blowing it out through his nose. “What the hell are ya even talking about?”

You study your hands again. “She asked me if I liked you.” He grunts low in his throat, handing over the cigarette obviously not caring either way. “…but I don’t think you like me.”

Daryl turns his head again and narrows his eyes further. “I’m here with ya ain’t I?” He growls snatching the smoke out of your hand and bringing it back to his mouth quickly. He finishes it in three long pulls and flicks it across the street with another grunt.

“You weren’t earlier. You left.” You hate the way your voice sounds, shaking with nervousness and weak. This place is going to make you weak. Daryl already has. He’s already got your guard down.

“Jus’ had to get outta of here for a little while.” He explains and you swear you hear a hint of desperation in his words. His eyes are searching yours carefully and they’re so blue and full of unsaid words.

“Why?”

“Yer askin’ a lot of questions tonight.”

“…and you’re not answering any of them.”

You swear if he narrows them anymore his eyes will close but somehow he manages to glare at you through slits.

“Why do ya even care about any of that shit anyway? Ain’t like we’re gonna ride off into the sunset together. Ain’t like any of us have a chance in hell at any kind of normal life. Maggie, Glenn - Rick. They’re all just chasin’ a dream.”

You feel your heart break at his words. Daryl will never give a shit about anything - not you, not even himself and it’s painfully obvious now.

“Okay.”

“Okay? What the hell does that mean?”

“I think you answered my question.” You assure him and push yourself up from the porch, jogging down the steps quickly. You can hear Daryl growling from the porch as you wrap your arms around yourself and turn towards the town center.

“Where the hell are ya goin’?” Daryl asks trying to lighten his tone but you don’t stop walking - leaving him glaring after you.

xxx

GIF from google.

Snippet from my new fanfic Too Far Gone (which is not a Daryl X Reader fic) on Ao3. Check it out.

[sliced-peaches]

hit it off right

Jeong Jaehyun x reader | 5.8k | friends to…?

After hearing about him for what seems like forever, you finally meet Jungwoo’s hot roommate. But it’s a lot more wholesome than anything else.

📀 now playing: say it - maggie rogers // decent - bas, amaarae // perfect places - lorde // dear to me - electric guest

a/n: seeing Jae getting drunk with YoungJi did something for me. I miss him and it’s really hard being a military wife. this is part of a larger collection coming soon, so nothing spicy. pls enjoy~

mentions of: other nct members, bff! Jungwoo, alcohol consumption, marijuana usage, light flirting, honestly tho everyone is just shy and cute and silly

A few days before the party, you’d asked Jungwoo what kind of wine his roommate liked. Since it was a celebration, you figured you should at least bring a gift.

“He told me to tell you to not bring anything.”

“How could he even know?” You whine, incredulous.

“Because I know you and your habit of balling out on people who are being celebrated.”

There’s not much you can say to that. You are known to bring a nice bottle of something that suits the taste of the one being celebrated. You love to see the joy on someone’s face when they get a tailored gift.

It’s the least you could do for someone when you notice their hard work. It feels good to appreciate someone, especially a friend like Jungwoo. It’s only natural you’d extend the perks to his roommate, right?

“You talk to your roomie about me?” You coo, poking his cheek. Setting his coffee cup down, he nods, seemingly pleased to share this piece of information with you.

“In passing. I told him you were coming, that I invited your coworker, too. I’ve gushed about her to him a few times. He just kinda smiled? Not in a weird way. Like… I don’t know. He just stared at me for a few seconds. Then he said he was happy to hear that. So-“

“Sounds like he’s in full support.”

Jungwoo smiles, bringing the cup back to his lips. Then he gives you a sly look over the rim before he speaks again.

“He also asked me about you.”

“What about me?”

“I guess I talk about you all the time, right? I told him about your art, all the art shows you’re in. I’m sure I’ve shown him a picture of you before, like from that time we went to the beach.”

“You showed your roommate my bikini photos?”

His eyes widen and he starts to immediately apologize when raise your hands to cut him off.

“Wait. Did he like them?”

“He… didn’t say much of anything if I’m being honest.”

“Oh.”

“Which doesn’t really mean anything, honestly. Sometimes he just doesn’t have anything to say.”

“…okay that’s a little better.”

It’s hard to imagine Jungwoo living with someone who doesn’t talk as much as he does.

The way you two often communicate is rapid-fire, dramatic, occasionally riffing off the other’s jokes. He likes to share his thoughts out loud and use you as a sounding board. You like to ramble about abstract art ideas and the special interest of the week.

Trying to picture your yap king living with someone who probably makes three facial expressions a year (says Jungwoo) makes you wish you could be a fly on the wall.

“How much have I told you about Jae? I know he’s always out, or at work so….”

His roommate’s name is Jaehyun. All you really know about him is that he’s close in age to Jungwoo, he used to be really competitive m, and that he has a cousin somewhere in Europe. Not much else past that.

“One time I was over you showed me a photo or two from when you guys were in high school. I’ve seen him in your stories too.”

“You said he was cute! I forgot about that.”

You recall a guy with dark hair and a cute bowl cut, wearing the same basketball jersey as Jungwoo. When you said cute, you were referring to their round faces and goofy hair cuts. The more recent pictures on Instagram were usually from an angle where you couldn’t really see his face, but he was always dressed nice from what you could tell.

“He was! Little cutie stranger man.”

There’s a beat.

“Okay, so about that. He’s was cute but now he’s, like, super handsome.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, he’s hot. Bulked up, started dressing nicer, smells good. His jawline is insane. He should actually model. I didn’t know he was going to look like that when we grew up, you know?” He shakes his head in disbelief.

“Damn, you ever told him all that?”

“All the time, actually. He’s so sick of me. At this point I’m just saying something that’s objectively true. You’d be lying if you thought he was ugly. So that being said-“

He whips his head towards you, you watch a plot and scheme form in his brain. His lips curl into something devilish.

“Careful not to fall in love with my roommate, yeah?”

You blink at him, two times. Three times.

“Huh?”

His words sounded like a warning, but it feels like he very much would prefer you do the opposite.

“I just feel like he’s someone you’d fall for.”

“You’ve never seen me fall for anyone. Not once since you’ve known me.”

“Exactly. Which is why I’m saying… I think you guys will get along well.”

“Don’t hope too hard, but I’m sure he’s lovely.”

Sighing, Jungwoo offers you a sympathetic look. You ignore it and instead check for any emails from the art festival you’re vending at later in the month. It’s not much help, as you can still feel his eyes on you.

“I think he’d be good for you.”

“I don’t think playing matchmaker with your friends is that good of an idea,” you clipped.

Right before you met Jungwoo in senior year of college, you’d been in a relationship that ended pretty badly. You were in love, and you think he was, too. At one point at least.

But when things run their course, and you stay in them too long, they start to drain you of everything.

You’d lost a lot of time and energy trying to be pretty enough, interesting enough, desirable enough to keep the spark alive. To keep his attention. But to no avail. It was like he was just waiting for you to leave.

After a while, feeling empty and settling for whatever he could toss your way was too much to bear. It was just time to let go.

It was hard when at the end, you realized he just didn’t love you like you loved him. But was too scared himself to be honest with you about it.

Heartbreak was one thing, but grieving a relationship that wasn’t all that real was another. It took you a long time to move through that pain.

Jungwoo watched you put a lot of effort into rebuilding your personality, your self worth, your confidence. He was nothing but supportive, as were your other friends, dragging you to every show in the city, joining you at a new cafe or listening to your new ideas about art you’d been neglecting. And Jungwoo’s friends were a wonderful addition to your life, as well.

It was beyond being choosy- you’d taken yourself out of the dating game altogether, focusing on work, art, your friends. Yourself.

Now you were very careful not to let anyone in and disrupt that. It’s been a beautiful life to fall back into; you’d hate to lose it to the wrong person.

Jungwoo is nothing but understanding still, squeezing your arm instead of pushing any further.

“Well, regardless, I know you’ll get along well. Even as friends.”

You roll your eyes at him, a small smile creeping back onto your face.

“Don’t look into his eyes, though, seriously. He’s something else.”

On the trip over to Jungwoos apartment your friend tells you about her day, catching you up on some work gossip and her roommates string of interesting dates.

She laughs at how engrossed you are in her words, loving how excited you are to listen to the tea. You’re asking questions, connecting dots. The entertainment is delicious.

“I’m never on shit, so I’m living vicariously through you guys,” you sigh.

“We’re on shit tonight! I’m excited to party with Jungwoo.”

You flit your eyes over to her. “Yeah?”

“Girl, yes. He seems like a good person to party with. He’s always so bubbly and sweet when we go out for coffee, and always supportive of you so he’s good in my book.”

You wish she knew why you were smiling so big.

“He is a sweetheart, and a wonderful friend. I feel like you guys will get along well, I’m surprised we haven’t all gone out before.”

Pulling your phone out, you open your camera to check for a lipgloss reapplication when text from Jungwoo comes through.

woo-ah: 🎶 what’s ur ETA?🎵

“C-can I be honest with you?”

Immediately you lock your phone, adjusting your body to give her your full attention.

“Of course you can.”

She glances towards the driver, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth like she’s telling you a juicy secret.

“I think he’s gorgeous.” Her cute confession has you both giggling like schoolgirls in the back of the rideshare. “Don’t tell him, please!”

“Babe, your secret is safe with me.” You pinch your fingers together, pretending to zip your lips. “You wanna hear a secret?”

Her eyes widen in anticipation.

“I think he thinks you’re cute, too.”

“Shut up, no way!”

“Let’s just say I have insider info.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

you: appx 4 min 🤠

woo-ah: 🪩🕺🫶🏼

You lock arms with your friend as you lead the way into the apartment building, being here enough times to know what floor and that the right elevator is faster than the left.

She’s talking about the book her roommate just recommended her as you get to Jungwoos floor. You even ask her to send you a text, saying that she should start a bookclub as you rap your knuckles on the door.

Jungwoo opens the door, moving to hug you both and welcome you into the apartment.

“Come in, come in!”

Music is playing from a speaker, and a chorus of voices comes from the living room.

You walk ahead of Jungwoo and your friend, who are exchanging thank you’s for invitations and gifts of alcohol, and a chorus of voices welcomes you in the living room.

Doyoung and Donghyuck practically race and slide around in their socks to hug you and kiss you on the forehead and you pull them in for a haphazard group hug.

“Long time no see!” Doyoung clasps his hands together. “It’s so nice to have us all together at one time.”

“What a mom, we’re here to get shitfaced.” Donghyuck teasing Doyoung is secretly something you live for, but you pretend to defend Doyoung from him.

“Let us get a few drinks in before you start shit talking him, damn!”

The guys make sure you’re introduced to the rest of their friends, the ones you haven’t had a chance to meet yet. You’ve heard all their names in conversation, usually when talking about some social event or fun times they had back in school. It was wonderful to finally put names to faces, and they were more than happy to do the same for you.

“Jungwoo finally brought you around!” Renjun and Jaemin cheer. “We’ve been wanting to meet you for so long.”

You blush under all the affection from them.

“I’m so glad to finally meet you guys.”

“Come on, you have to try the cocktail YangYang made.”

Dragging you into the kitchen, you’re flooded by more introductions, jokes and insanely loud laughter, and it feels like you’ve been doing this for years with them already.

YangYang passes you a glass, a sliced lemon garnishing the side and all. You take one sip, then immediately take another. “Wow, this is delicious. Thank you!”

“There are three kinds of liquors in there,” he says, shooting you an apologetic look. “All light, but they told me I had to get everyone drunk, so-“

Before he can even try to apologize, stop him.

“That’s my kind of drink, then!” And you propose a toast with whoever’s in the kitchen.

The cheers begin to die down when someone walks into the kitchen.

Jungwoo has a lot of attractive friends. You knew this from the jump. He’s a model, he had model friends, friends who were in entertainment and the arts. From seeing whoever was on his Instagram story every few weeks, to getting drinks with everyone else occasionally, you’d gotten very used to being surrounded by pretty men.

Jungwoo did not prepare you well enough for Jeong Jaehyun.

“It’s our boy! Congratulations!”

The kitchen erupts into more greetings and well wishes as the man of the hour had just arrived. You sit back as everyone moves into pat him on the back, hug him or, like Donghyuck, kiss him right on the cheek.

Everyone’s voices just turn into background noise as you take him in.

He smiles the most beautiful smile you’ve ever been blessed enough to witness, and you have to force yourself to take a large sip of your drink so not to gawk at him.

Renjun and Jaemin motion for you to come closer, and you use the one solid second you have to steel your nerves as you step closer to them.

Jaemin slings his arm around you. “Jae, have you met our girl yet?”

Renjun playfully shakes his arm. “Jungwoo has been keeping her from us for eons.”

Jaehyun takes a step closer to you. He’s tall, much taller than you, so you have to tilt your head back to fully look at him.

And what a sight to see.

Jaehyun smiles again, a little shy but just for you. His eyes crinkle at the corners, smile so sincere and kind like he’s smiling at someone he’s known for years.

Extending his hand out to you, he wants to greet you properly. Shakily you place your smaller hand in his. But instead of shaking your hand, he uses both hands to gently hold it.

“It’s nice to finally meet you.”

The baritone voice almost knocks you on your ass.

Taking take a moment to will some confidence, some chill to come through when you speak, you swallow and push your shoulders back.

“You as well, Jaehyun. It’s been a long time coming, yeah?”

It’s taking everything in you to sound normal and relaxed, unfazed by this man.

He cocks his head to the side and laughs, his nose crinkling and smile lines that resemble whiskers making themselves visible. The sight makes your head spin.

“A very long time.” He releases your hand, and you place it against the side of your glass hoping it will absorb some of the heat from the exchange. “Thank you for coming.”

With your resolve expiring in seconds, you’re so thankful for Jungwoo making his way into the kitchen. While he introduces your work friend to Jaehyun, you shuffle out the kitchen alongside Renjun and Jaemin.

You sit on the armrest of the couch, listening to them bicker over what game the party should play first, remembering how to breathe.

Jaehyun quietly settles into a chair for one close to you, tuning into the commotion. He doesn’t make a move towards you, and you’re glad even if just for a moment. Out the corner of your eye, you take him in.

Handsome isn’t the right word to use, you think. He’s dressed clean and simple, nice jeans and a white t-shirt. The side profile is something unreal, perfect chiseled features but his face still soft and welcoming. His dark hair is slightly pushed back, a few stands falling over his forehead. He leans forward to tap Jaemin on the shoulder, complimenting him on ‘how big he’s gotten’ at the gym, with the younger preening under his praise.

Just in the short time in the same room, it’s clear that Jaehyun is like a big brother. And from what Jungwoo has told you is super sweet and caring. That alone makes you want to know him more, and makes him all the more attractive.

Looking over at you, he offers you a small smile which you mirror to avoid coming off as awkward. Noticing that you are both nursing the same drink, he raises his glass towards you for a small toast.

“To you and the summer,” you offer, raising your glass as you do so.

“I can drink to that.”

You take another large swig of your drink, hoping after the third your nerves can handle more than two sentences next time.

It’s silly, you think, to be this affected by a man. An attractive one, yes. But just a man. A friend of a friend, even.

Jungwoo’s words echo in the back of your mind, that he thought you and Jaehyun would get along well. Part of you doesn’t want to prove him right, but another part of you wonders if getting along with Jaehyun wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

So you try your best to start and make conversation.

“I heard about your promotion, congratulations!”

“Ah thank you,” he says, smiling into his cup. “It’s actually more of a career change.”

“Really? What are you going to be doing?”

He takes a minute to respond, and for a moment you wonder if he even heard in the first place. Before you can repeat yourself, however, he’s speaking again.

“I’m… writing music. Singing some, too. For me and for others.” He points over his shoulder with his thumb. “I’ll be working with Taeyong a lot, in his studio.”

Eyebrows raising, you lean in a bit.

“You sing, Jaehyun?”

“Sometimes.” He takes a drink. “I write stories on artists, interview people in music. Do some editing. The company I work for was really cool about letting me try different things, I really liked working for them.”

There’s a moment where you’re not sure if he’s going to speak again, and right when you think you should ask another question he continues.

“But I always wanted to sing my own songs, produce my own work. My current line of business has its perks, a lot of connections too. So I’ve been working on my own stuff on the side.”

You didn’t peg him as someone in performance- he’s so pretty you’re surprised he isn’t a model or an actor honestly. But he doesn’t seem to be anything anyone would think at first glance.

“That’s so exciting. Especially working with friends, I like Taeyongie’s music. And ’m really happy to hear you’re able to chase after your dream.”

“Thank you, I’m excited to share.”

He looks at you through his eyelashes as he takes another drink.

So we’re both trying to numb our nerves, you thought to yourself.

“I hope I get to hear some music from you soon.”

He casts another smile your way, and that’s when you know the liquor is kicking in because it doesn’t send you reeling this time.

“I hope you do, too. Soon.”

“Shots?”

Everyone gathers around in the living room, passing small glasses around to those partaking in alcoholic festivities tonight. You pass one to Jaehyun, who holds it up against the light.

“I haven’t taken a shot in a long time.”

“I got you the good shit, Jae.” Jungwoo holds up two expensive bottles. “Whiskey? Or gin?”

“Oh shit… let’s do the gin. Sticking with lights tonight.”

He asks for your preference, and you do the same.

Jungwoo opens the bottle of gin and pours the first round of shots for the night. After he pours his own, he holds his glass up for a toast.

“I know this is, like, the fourth toast of the night but it probably won’t be the last if I’m being honest.”

Taeyong groans. “I’m betting on at least seven in total.”

“Those are rookie numbers,” YangYang yells out, the younger boys cackling and suggesting higher numbers.

“Anyway!” Jungwoo bangs the gin bottle on the coffee table. “This is the emotional one. It’s the end of the summer and I hate to see her go. But we’re moving into fall, and falling into our new lives-“

Donghyuck pretends to yawn.

“Dude shut up, it’s just Jaehyun-”

“I’m not finished!” And he taps the bottle again, your head falling against the back of the couch in silent laughter. “Thank you all for being part of another summer and thank you guys for coming to celebrate one of my closest, oldest friends.”

“Literally.”

Doyoung throws a pillow at Donghyuck and motions for Jungwoo to continue.

Jungwoo turns to Jaehyun, who’s made his way onto the couch alongside you and your friend. “I’m happy to see you make your wildest dreams come true. I can’t wait to see you become the sexy superstar you were always meant to be. Cheers!”

The room is full of cheers and then groans from knocking back shots with no chasers, but it’s a pleasant burn as it slides down your throat.

You blow a kiss at Jungwoo, wiping a fake tear from your eye. “Your speech was beautiful. Very moving.”

The next hour is filled with mini beer pong (players had to sip water instead of alcohol, many thanks to Doyoung), stories about the boys time in school or how some of them met their partners, and shared soju.

The boys complain that he’ll cheat if he plays so instead Jaehyun shares a strong bottle of peach soju, his favorite, with you and your coworker.

At first, it’s very cute to just watch Jaehyun laugh at all of his friends antics. He enjoys listening, occasionally cracking a few jokes or making funny noises. But he’s more than happy to settle back into the couch and observe.

But he’s also big on being a good host, even if he’s the one being celebrated- if he isn’t offering you another drink he’s offering to grab something from the kitchen for you. They’re small but clear gestures to make sure his couch neighbors are as comfortable as he is.

He’s laid back and quiet but attentive- it has you swooning a bit. It’s a contrast to the rest of the men in the apartment, who are also sweet but characteristically loud and rambunctious. You love it, but it’s fascinating to watch Jaehyun hum and giggle to himself rather than dominate a conversation.

After you clear the second soju bottle and Jungwoo has wedged himself between you and your friend, you think you hear Jaehyun giggle beside you.

“What’s so funny?” You laugh, setting the empty bottle down on the coffee table.

He just shrugs, cheeks beginning to flush from the alcohol. He’s pretty like this, you think.

“Are you a silly drunk, Jae?” You tease, catching the attention of Donghyuck.

“Oh man, he’s gonna start getting real silly soon.” The younger man comes to sit on the armrest closest to Jaehyun, affectionately brushing his hair off his forehead. He weakly tries to swat Donghyucks hand away.

“I’m not silly,” he tries to argue, way too cute and whiny compared to the man you met just two hours ago.

“You’re sooo silly right now,” Donghyuck laughs. “She’s going to have to take care of you soon!”

His eyebrows shoot up and he tries to sit straighter, attempting to coolly settle against the back of the couch. “No, no. I’m fine. I’m-“

“Come get some air with us!” Jaemin and Donghyuck pull him up by his arms, with little to no resistance from Jaehyun. He just rolls his eyes as they pull him to his feet.

Jaemin cheers, pushing him towards the sliding door to the deck.

Looking over his shoulder, he nods at you. “Need anything while I’m up?”

You wave him off towards the door.

“No, I’m okay. Go get some air.”

With you beaming up at him, Jaehyun swears the room has gotten a few degrees hotter. The air will do him good.

Jaehyun finds you in the kitchen later, just finishing one of the cookies someone brought. You pass one to him and he finishes it in one bite.

“How many drinks in are you?”

“Shit… I’m at about four. Not including that shot.”

“I think I’m at about the same,” he says, shuffling closer to you at the kitchen island overlooking the living room.

There’s a moment of silence that you share, watching all of his and Jungwoos friends (and yours now) fill up the apartment with laughter (and some screaming- Renjun set Mario Kart up on the tv).

Your heart swells knowing how loved Jungwoo is, as well as Jaehyun.

But then it dawns on you that you haven’t seen Jungwoo or your friend in a while. Before you can mention that to Jaehyun, he bumps his hip against yours.

The alcohol might not have been enough to turn the alarms off in your brain yet, but your body is slow to react to him essentially snuggling into your side. He’s warm, and he smells warm too. Like a vanilla candle. There’s something else you can’t place, but it’s more than pleasant.

“I have to tell you a secret.” He whispers, and it’s cute and kind of whiny.

“A secret?” You say, barely over a whisper. He nods slowly, looking into the crowd.

He can’t see shit, in all honesty.

“I may or may not be a little crossed.”

“That’s what I smell on you?”

“Shit, is it bad?” Just like that, he’s a little more self conscious than he is silly. He smells his shirt in a few different places, earning a laugh from you.

“No, you’re fine. It’s because you’re so close that I can smell it.” He sighs and laughs almost at himself. “Is that where you and the boys went?”

“Yeah. I don’t usually smoke but it’s something like a special occasion.”

“Absolutely it is. You deserve it.”

He simply hums, letting a a few seconds pass before he speaks again.

“You smoke?”

“Weed? Rarely.”

“Cigs?”

“Not once in my life.”

“Good for you, we’re all nicotine addicts in here.”

“Vape away, I could never judge.”

At that you both turn towards the other at the same time, chests inches apart.

His eyes are low from the weed, the whites tinted red. He’s looking down at you, a silly, boyish grin on his lips. You can’t help but blush under his gaze, lips curving into a grin of their own.

“Thanks for coming tonight.” His voice is soft, barely audible. You feel yourself subconsciously leaning into him, wishing to hear him a little louder.

“Of course, I had to support the homie. And play wingman.”

He tilts his head back to glance around the room , the realization hitting him then.

“Oh shit, I haven’t seen them in a while.”

“Then I guess I did a good job. I barely did anything but whatever.”

He laughs, voice deep and rumbly. “You did great.”

He leans onto the counter, his arm resting closing to where your hip sits against the edge. He slowly shifts his eyes back over to you, looking over your frame. Just once, even his sluggish brain is careful not to get ahead of itself.

“I’m glad we finally got to meet.”

“I am too.” Your skin is on fire under his intense gaze. It’s not so much intense as it is just so warm, so amiable. You deflect to take some of the heat off of you, quite literally. “Jungwoo talks about you all the time.”

“Yeah? What does he say?”

That you’re so fucking handsome and I’d be stupid to lie and disagree.

“That you don’t say too much, but you’re a really good friend.”

A surprised look washed over his face, then he turns sheepish.

“He’s…… that’s sweet of him.” Jaehyun rubs the back of his neck, thinking on his next words as carefully as his crossed mind will allow him. “I’m glad you’re his friend. He needs someone like you.”

You tilt your head to the side.

“What do you mean?”

“Someone who isn’t as shy as him.”

“Haha, you think I don’t get shy?” It’s funny when you think back on how nerve wracking is was to shake his hand for the first time.

But he’s just giving you this knowing look now, a ghost of a smirk at the corner of his lips.

“If you do, you hide it well.” You could scream. Can he see right through you? “But seriously. You push him to do well.”

Jaehyun is slow to speak, but even inebriated he’s intentional. Something you’ve learned in just the past few hours about him is that it may take him a while to get his thoughts out, but it’s more than worth it to hear what he has to say.

You hang on to every pause like your life depends on it, eager to hear what comes out of his mouth next.

“Before you guys worked together, he was a lot more… reserved. And passive? Like, he’s good at everything he does. We know this. But… he never really sought recognition.”

“You’re right. But he deserves it.”

He nods while he thinks on his next words.

“Yeah. I remember in school he was just happy to pass and be included in things. Never attracted much attention to himself. Never wanted to be in the spotlight. But since working with you, he’s become proud of the work he does. His confidence has grown. He’s louder. Funnier. You pushed him a lot.”

“That’s all him, he works hard-“

“He does, you pushed him though. When he finally started modeling last year all he could do was say how thankful he was for you. How you encouraged him, helped him with headshots. Went shopping with him and made sure he felt good going into auditions. And it took off.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

“He… he said that? Really?”

“He did. You’ve been a very good friend to him.”

Blinking away the tears that started to pinprick behind your eyes, you smile at Jaehyun whose own eyes are filled with mirth. Even cross faded, Jaehyun’s words were so sincere and kind.

“Are you crying?”

You sniffle, using your thumbs to collect any tears in the corner of your eyes so not to ruin your makeup.

“I was gonna but I’m okay.”

He laughs that hearty laugh again and ruffles your hair. It’s such a small gesture, but so comfortable. Domestic even. Like you’ve been friends for years. It makes your heart even fuller than it already is and if he keeps it up, it’ll burst before the end of the night.

The alcohol coursing through you is doing nothing but spread this warmth, double time. Happiness feels good coursing through you.

“Let’s get some water, yeah?” He cocks his head toward the fridge. “Doyoung brought some sparkling water.”

You begin to follow him as he takes a few steps backwards. “What flavor?”

“We have…” He starts, opening the door to the fridge. “I can barely see. Wow.”

“Move, I’ll look.”

You hip check him out of the way, and hear someone come into the kitchen behind you.

“I’m no better, but this looks like ginger peach. And calamansi.”

“Pass me a calamansi, please? You want a sparkling water, Taeyong?”

“Do you think it’s a good mixer for gin?” He asks, loud enough for someone in the living room to hear.

Then, that someone yells out: “Another round of shots?”

Laughing, you hand Jaehyun his sparkling water, and pass a ginger and peach flavored water to Taeyong. “Let’s find out, yeah?”

More cheering is heard as you shuffle back into the living room and let Doyoung pour the next round of shots.

He’s a sweetheart and pours the shots right into you and Taeyongs cans, Jaehyun sneakily placing a sealed water bottle next to your foot.

It’s well into the night, the hour a single digit when the party starts to die down.

Jungwoo is in the loveseat for one and a half, your friend snuggled into his side.

You’ve found yourself back on the couch with Jaehyuns head resting on your shoulder and one of his legs swung over Taeyongs. Miraculously, Donghyuck has found a way to lay across you all comfortably.

“I’m going to order a ride home for us soon,” your friend says through a yawn. Donghyuck is already whining, earning some light smacks from the older boys under him.

“We’re so comfy, why would you want to mess up our cuddle pile?

“I’m not cuddling, I’m being leaned on,” you tease, grinning down at Jaehyun who can barely hold his eyes open. He’s trying his best to focus on one of your faces because he sees three, but he’s not complaining.

“Hm… my bad.” He moves to sit up, but Donghyuck just nestles into him even further, and Jaehyun can’t seem to muster up enough strength to (care) knock him into the floor. “I really… I really did try.”

Jaehyun has hit peak silly hours. From little hums and cute noises to the worst dad jokes you’ve heard in a while, you understand what Donghyuck meant earlier. Jaemin and Jungwoo even got him to cutely pose for drunk selfies earlier.

Laughing through your nose, you use the hand that’s free to reach around and pat his cheek affectionately. In this state he instinctually leans into your touch, humming in approval. You have to fight the urge to squeeze his cheeks. “Jae you gonna be alright?”

“I told you she was going to have to take care of you!” At that, he and Taeyong had enough and pushed him into the floor. He lets out a squawk as his body hits the ground with a light thud. “Fuck. It’s comfier down here anyway.”

Jungwoo slowly stands up, helping your friend to her feet. “So Donghyuck is sleeping here, literally right there. No blanket. I don’t want to see you using something weird as a replacement either.”

While the boys still present start to bicker some more, Jaehyun taps your knee to get your attention.

“I’ll be okay. Just got a little carried away.”

“You’re okay. Let’s get you to bed then?”

His eyes open a little wider, mouth parting to say something. You wait.

“Are you staying over?”

“No I’m going home tonight.”

He pouts, and it almost sends you to another dimension.

“Aw don’t make that face, I’ll be back soon.”

“Okay. Good.”

You call to Taeyong, who really isn’t that much better, but he does help you get Jaehyun off the couch and down the hall to his bedroom.

You let Taeyong handle the hard part of getting him out of his jeans and under the covers, heading to the kitchen to fill a glass of water. “Jungwoo, you have any painkiller?”

“In that drawer by the stove.” He stands beside you in the kitchen. “For Jae?”

“Yeah. You want any water?”

“Nah I was good tonight. I’ll be okay.” He purses his lips. “You’re sweet for that. Taking care of him.”

“I’m not doing anything I wouldn’t do for you.”

“I know… exactly what I mean.” You shake your head and walk to Jaehyun’s room, entering while Taeyong exits.

“He’s decent, just whiny.”

“Thank you, I’ll just leave this for him then.”

You approach the side of the bed where he’s sprawled out, eyes barely open but you can see them following you even in the dark.

“Brought you some water. And some painkiller. Take it when you can, yeah?”

“Hm. Tell Jungwoo to give Hyuck a blanket.”

You chuckle and ruffle his hair before moving to leave.

“Have a good night, Jaehyun.”

“Hmm…”

unknown number: hey it’s jaehyun

unknown number: jungwoo gave me your number. thanks for coming yesterday. don’t be a stranger!

[ethicaltreatmentofcowplants]

transcript + more info

berenice: aha! she'll never find me here watcher: you mean 'here'? "in moonwood mill, my most favouritist of worlds 'here'?" berenice: ahhhh! i mean, i didn't do it? i've been framed. it was the full autonomy, i swear... watcher: did you just sign up for deanna's bachelorette? berenice: maybe... yes? watcher: do you even *like* other women? berenice: i like other women! i have other women... friends?? watcher: *SIGH* watcher: berenice, this kind of stuff just doesn't happen in real life berenice: what kind of stuff? watcher: he will never like you back like that berenice: he? who's he??? watcher: don't be obtuse, i can see your moodlets berenice: well this isn't real life because i'm a pixel! silly you, watcher...

BERENICE "BERNIE" SMALLS

Young Adult • Ciswoman (she/her) • Physics Major (incoming senior)

TRAITS: genius, overachiever, cringe, paranoid, socially awkward, creative (bonuses: mentally gifted, always welcome, morning sim, night sim, storm chaser)

MISC: Valedictorian and championship chess captain at Copperdale. Actually wants to catch lightning in a bottle someday.

(This is a mischief interaction. She's not evil - just a disaster.)

By day she’s a straight A student, freelance programmer and budding Plopsy empire builder - and a shoe-in for valedictorian to the point where most would happily bet their own mother’s mortgage on it (yeah, please don’t actually do that).

By night, however? A cheater cheater pumpkin eater! Well, not quite (the pumpkin eating allegations however are indeed true).

Her secret? She’s a spellcaster. Her other secret? Plentiful needs potions - and lots of ‘em.

Yes, you too could manage the highest GPA in the school plus every extracurricular that didn't throw you out on your rear end (she and that dungeon master still aren’t on speaking terms), tutoring, plus a fulltime job and another part-time job, had you the equivalent of 24 usable hours in every day.

Obviously this isn’t illegal, as the greater pixel world doesn’t know about spellcasters (see: my legacy heir who still freaks out over her spellcaster husband, brother and her three children). And there’s nothing stopping anyone from washing down caffeine pills with red bull that doesn’t actually give you wings (though Berenice could attempt a potion for that). Aaaand it could be argued that werewolves who can recharge extremely quickly with a wolf nap and vampires who don’t need to sleep at all should not occult their way through Foxbury's hallowed halls. 

But there’s a difference between being thought of as just that amazing, and being thought of as significantly less amazing, because any fool believes that they can achieve what Berenice does with all that extra time she has.

Why is she entering this competition? A very good question. Well, it may be called ‘Dating Deanna,’ but this dumb smart girl has a completely different York in mind. Namely Deanna’s brother Joey, who she’s had a massive crush on ever since she met him one summer holiday in Tartosa.

"I've got this!" "I don't got this..."

She therefore signed up on a whim, and while hindsight is currently coming down on her like a tonne of bricks, she’s too obstinate to pull out now. Bernie Smalls, quit a thing? Never!

PERMISSIONS

All in - feel free to message me!

In terms of romance with other contestants, as she's a 'troll' concept have at it. Maybe not woohoo though since she's still trying to determine her sexuality.

She would be very open to flirting - and well, anything else with Joey. Will she get the opportunity? I highly doubt it but this experience can be a moment of growth for her 😆

(iou a sfs zip after dinner and other adulting!)

@changingplumbob's dating deanna bachelorette challenge (i am so sorry deanna)

[frvmewxrk]

i’m in my analysing good omens era and i was just thinking at how aziraphale’s and crowley’s love languages are a big part of the reason it took them so long to figure out their reciprocated love.

when you’re a demon, an unforgivable creature, you don’t deserve to hear that you’re loved. demons don’t go around telling each other nice things, what they do if they want to show it, is acts of services.

a demon wouldn’t tell you you’re good, but they would cover up your duties for you and say that it’s so you owe them a favour which they will never claim, they wouldn’t say they love you but they would linger on your doorstep for a bit too long and steal your scarf as an excuse to meet you again.

and that’s what crowley does, he keeps aziraphale company and he makes him try food, he says that it’s to tempt him when it’s just an excuse to see the angel happy, he saves you from death situations and says that it’s because your substitute would be more of a bother than you are.

crowley never tells aziraphale anything, and that’s his way of showing him he loves him.

but when you’re an angel, doing nice things for each other is the norm, it’s the way to show the universe that you’re Good.

angels don’t go around giving each other’s things or doing your work for you, because that should be what you would do to anyone. if an angel gives you money, it’s not because they love you, it’s because they’re a good selfless person.

aziraphale does that countless times, he gives people his stuff, he never asks for money, he uses more miracles than necessary even if it means that he’ll get a reprimand just so he can help strangers on the street. acts of services for an angel are just intertwined in their essence.

so the only way to actually show it is to talk. if an angel loves someone, they have to tell them, if they love someone they tell them that they’re good and that they’re worth it. aziraphale positively lights up any time someone compliments him, because that’s what he needs to know that he’s loved.

so aziraphale tells crowley he’s good even if he knows that will make crowley skittish, aziraphale tells crowley that he always comes to save him to praise him for his caring, he tells crowley that he needs him and that’s the most loving words he could say, because what does an ethereal creature capable of anything need from anyone? their love, probably.

but they don’t understand each other.

crowley uses acts of service and aziraphale takes it as his way to show his forbidden goodness to the world, aziraphale uses words of affirmation and crowley thinks that’s his way of feeling better about himself for consorting with a demon.

why is 1941 and crowley saving his books so important for their relationship? because i think that’s when aziraphale realised the truth, crowley had already done his “good” act, he had already proved as he did countless times that he is not the usual demon and he’s actually nice, but saving something just because he knows aziraphale cares about that, and giving no excuse for his action, that’s something else.

it was the first act done, in aziraphale’s eyes, for no reason other than love.

aziraphale then tells him that he could do something for him in return, people interpret it as sexual (which i find very funny, mind you) but i think it’s just aziraphale’s way of telling crowley that he can also show him his love through acts, if that’s what crowley wants, he can save him back if that will mean crowley will realise that he loves him too.

and that’s why i also think that crowley is not very sure about the love being reciprocated, because he never had the realisation that aziraphale is always around him and telling him nice things because that’s how he can show his love.

and it is even worsened in the end, because if crowley knew, he would have waited for him.

it can be seen as a selfish act on crowley’s part, wanting your lover to put you over saving the universe, but i think it’s because crowley doesn’t know what aziraphale is doing. he can’t know that aziraphale is actually disregarding all of his feelings for the greater good, because crowley doesn’t know about these feelings.

what he thinks is that what he always thought was true, his angel doesn’t love him back and he chose heaven over him.

if they actually talked, it would’ve been resolved.

but the problem is that they don’t talk, they cling to their love and beliefs and they think that the other has finally caught up, and they are so convinced that they know everything of each other that they don’t find the need to do it.