#time to make this the background on everything I own

[artistatheart7-blog]

Dick: How could you hide the fact you still had living family Tim?

Tim: What are you talking about? I never hid anything? Your detectives, you'd think you'd be able to detect things. Especially something that was never a secret.

Damian: Tt. You would think you would make Father aware of this family so he wouldn't have to take you in.

Tim: Bruce never took me in, and if he failed to run a background check and find readily available information that's not on me.

Dick: Even if Bruce didn't officially take you in your still family, still his son.

Tim: Uh no? We're coworkers? At most he's my not-son.

Dick: What? You can't-Tim how do you see all of us? What do you think your role is to us?

Tim: Easy, I'm the Bat-Minder with Bruce as my not-son and Alfred as co-parent. Your the pseudo brother coworker, Damian and Jason are the more aggressive coworkers, Barbara is a normal helpful coworker, Duke is the nice coworker, and Cass is the friendly coworker. Then Steph is my ex, one of my best friends, and coworker.

Dick: What? But-

Bruce: Tim, I offered to adopt you although you turned me down. Even if it's not official you are still considered family.

Tim: Why though? We're not. I already have a family. You don't act like family, the most you know about me is how much a coworker would know. I've never called any of you family and I don't consider you family. I tolerate you guys, I even like some of you, but that's it.

Dick: You lived with us for years-

Tim: Same thing at a boarding school or in the military. Doesn't make you family with everyone in the building there now does it? Also, you all really need to mind your own business when it comes to my personal life. Calling me grief mad? You really shouldn't make assumptions about me and my personal life, especially when it has nothing to do with you since your a coworker. Honestly I would have filed for workplace harassment with the lot of you multiple times if I could. And you really need to stop constantly calling me when I'm off the clock.

Bats: ....

Tim: Ya'll need to get good and pay attention. Not everything connects to you. Now if you excuse me, I think I'll take the night off and spend the night hanging out with my brother. See you later. Bye Alfred, don't forget to send me the weekly update about Bruce's wellbeing.

*Danny and Tim start walking away*

Danny: Pfft, what's with fruitloops thinking they can claim us as family when we already have one?

Tim: I know right? We already have a famiily, which includes perfectly good parents.

....

Jason: Well, that just happened.

Tim Drake’s Coworkers (ft. The Fenton Family)

It’s not that Tim doesn’t like the Batfamily. He tolerates them just fine. Damian is great for sparring (if you like sparring with a tiny murder machine), and Jason’s brand of dark humor isn’t too bad once you get used to it. Dick’s a bit too much sometimes, but overall? Fine. Totally fine.

But the thing is… they’re just his coworkers.

And it never really clicks for the Bats until Danny Phantom joins the Justice League and everything starts unraveling.

———

The revelation comes during a League meeting. They’re strategizing about some ghost-related chaos, and Danny floats into the Watchtower, bright and glowing.

“Oh, hey, Tim,” Danny greets casually, giving him a little wave.

Tim doesn’t even look up from his tablet. “Sup.”

Superman looks between them, confused. “…you two know each other?”

Danny grins. “yeah, he’s my brother.”

Dead silence.

“WHAT?!” Bruce’s bellow shakes the entire room.

Tim finally looks up, unfazed. “What? Did you think I just spawned into existence?”

“You have a brother?!” Clark sputters.

“Two siblings, actually,” Tim corrects, utterly nonchalant. “Danny’s the younger one. Jazz is the older one. She’s great. Super organized. Kept me alive in middle school.”

Bruce’s eye twitches. “Why—why am I only learning this now?”

Tim shrugs. “It didn’t seem relevant.”

“Relevant?” Diana repeats, incredulous. “You’re the brother of Danny Phantom and it’s not relevant?”

Danny, who’s been munching on some ectoplasm candy, jumps in: “Honestly, Tim’s always been kind of private about his personal life. We just figured it was his way of coping with the whole ‘raised-by-rich-neglectful-aunt’ thing.”

“Yeah, about that,” Tim interjects, glaring at Danny. “Thanks so much for dumping me with Aunt Janet, by the way.”

Danny shrugs sheepishly. “Mom and Dad panicked! They thought you’d get ghost-napped next!”

“Uh, correction: Aunt Janet left me to raise myself, so that plan was awesome.”

Bruce, trying to keep up, interrupts: “Hold on. Your parents left you with Janet Drake?”

“They didn’t know she sucked at raising kids,” Tim deadpans. “And to be fair, they did call. A lot. I just didn’t pick up.”

Jason, who has been cackling this entire time, leans forward. “Wait, wait, wait—so you’re telling me that the Replacement’s entire family is a bunch of ghost hunters?”

“Yup.” Danny pops the “p” with a grin.

“You’re kidding me,” Steph says, borderline hysterical.

Tim sighs, clearly over it. “Look, it’s not a big deal. Jazz keeps the parents in check, Danny handles the ghost stuff, and I… stay out of the way. It’s fine.”

“FINE?” Damian glares. “Drake, you’ve been fraternizing with ghost hunters while working with a vigilante group, and you think that’s fine?”

Tim raises an eyebrow. “Dami, chill. It’s not like it affects work. You’re my coworkers. They’re my family. Separate categories.”

Cue collective Batfamily malfunction.

———

Later, Danny is chilling in the Batcave, feet kicked up on the Batcomputer, chatting with Alfred. The rest of the Bats are still spiraling.

“Tim, we’ve lived together for years!” Dick exclaims, sounding genuinely hurt. “How are we only your coworkers?”

“You’re not my family,” Tim explains, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Danny and Jazz are my family. You guys are my teammates. It’s different.”

Jason throws his head back, laughing. “Oh my god, Replacement, you’re stone cold.”

“I’m not cold,” Tim argues. “I just don’t think we need to make it more complicated than it is. We work together. That’s enough.”

Meanwhile, Danny is wiping tears of laughter off his face. “Oh man. Jazz is gonna love this.”

[xjcjuis]

ARE YOU COMING HOME?

pairing: billie eilish x reader

synopsis: she gets a lovely surprise while on tour

warnings: nothing but FLUFF i love fluff, not proofread

wordcount: 0.9k

a/n: very late merry christmas and happy new year!! not my best work but please enjoy! anyways i need to be picked up and spun around plsplspls

long distance relationships are never easy, especially when your girlfriend is one of the most famous singers in the world. she's on tour right now, overseas and so, so far away from you and your empty arms.

or so she thinks.

billie's voice is a little tinny through the phone, crackles from foil heard as she unpacks the snacks she'd bought after her show. you watch in contentment, hugging a pillow to your chest with a leg exaggeratedly thrown over it, arm starting to go numb from holding the device up.

"i bought your favorite sweets too," she says, cutting the silence. "missing you so much, i really wish you could be here to steal from me." she ends her statement with a pout. oh, how you wish you could kiss that pout off of her lips. but soon. all you need right now is patience.

"so your friends- you guys went to a hotel just to watch a movie?" billie asks, a little confused. it was the best excuse you could think of out of nowhere.

"yup," you reply, popping the p. "they're not around right now, though. out shopping. i'm too broke and lazy to go out."

"i told you you could use my card, though."

"i'm not using your card, billie."

"you could if you wanted."

"no."

she frowns, as if she were the one losing something. billie did that a lot: shower you with expensive gifts and treats and dates and refuses to accept anything back. the fact only makes you happier about your plan, knowing she'd ask about the cost but it wouldn't really matter anyway because both of you were benefitting.

"when are you coming home?" a trick question. "i miss you so so bad. and i miss staying home with shark and just cuddling together. our bed is so cold without you."

"oh?" billie grins, eyebrow raising. before she could comment anything inappropriate, the doorbell rings on her end of the line. "ah, that must be room service. i ordered dinner. be back in a minute, love."

you grin to yourself now as she turns away to answer the door, knowing that there was a very big chance that it was, in fact, not room service. your ears prick up at the hint of a gasp, muffled voices exchanging polite conversation, and billie returns in frame holding a huge bouquet of flowers, an even huger smile on her face.

she was practically glowing, outshining the sweat and slight tiredness formerly seen on her face from her performance. "you're kidding me."

"what?!" you ask, laughing. your heart swells with pride.

"you didn't seriously get me this from, what, on the other side of the world?" your girlfriend asks incredulously, admiring the little pink and white petals you'd picked out and reading the note that said nothing but 'i'm proud of you'.

you push yourself up off the bed, casually pulling on a pair of socks before slipping on your shoes, making sure to not let it be seen on camera. "i had to call in a couple of favors from your manager, of course. i'm sorry it's not in my handwriting."

and it wasn't, because you knew that billie would recognize your strokes immediately, and that would blow everything else off.

you make your way to the main hotel door, making sure your face covered the background so that the girl on your phone didn't see its similarities to her own room. "hold on, baby, i'll call you back."

the singer's dark brows furrow at your abrupt dismissal. "okay. don't take too long."

"love you."

she didn't get to reply before you click on the red button and dash to the elevator, pressing her floor in the same hotel (though she didn't know it yet), having memorized the number by heart when she told you yesterday.

you get there, just in time for the room service server to roll his cart of to her door. pushing your nerves aside, you walk right up to him and excuse the interruption. "hi, sorry. my girlfriend is in this room and i was hoping to surprise her, would you mind if i borrowed your hat?"

he agrees, barely hiding a smile. thanking him, you took a deep breath to compose yourself, jamming the hat onto your head. your hand lingers over the bell, glancing nervously at the server, who in turn nods encouragingly at you.

ding.

footsteps can be heard from inside, and you count to five before the door swings open and you drop your head to hide your face, resorting to deepening your voice. "hello ma'am, room service-"

"y/n?" she gasps in recognition, incredulous. billie's hand is frozen on the doorknob, staring in disbelief.

finally, you raise your head and hand the server his hat back, your smile having difficulty in concealing a laugh. "surprise?"

you're unable to do anything more when billie snatches you up by the waist, raises you, and spins you around dramatically, her own lips wide in a grin. the sudden movement messes up your hair, getting it over your shoulder and behind and swept towards the opposite side but she didn't care. your girlfriend pulls you in close in a tight hug, one arm around your waist and the other resting upon your spine.

her happiness can still be felt blind.

she wouldn't let go, not for a second to get inside, not to formally accept the room service food, so you thank the server over her shoulder.

he leaves you and billie to your moment a little awkwardly.

"you didn't tell me you were here!" she whines into your hair.

you laugh. "that's the point of a surprise, bils."

"i can't believe you actually flew here. you hung up on me. i love you so so so much, you know that?"

"yes, i know." another soft smile graces your face. "i love you so so so much too."

[focusonkayjay]

Wildly Wealthy Koreans (6); inspired by Crazy Rich Asians

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: photographer/ filmmaker! jungkook, rich girl/ fashion designer! reader, established relationship, angst, fluff, smut

Series summary: When you invite your boyfriend, Jungkook, to accompany you to your brother's wedding in your hometown, Daegu, he’s overjoyed, eager to meet your family and experience a side of your life you’ve never shared with him. However, once he uncovers the truth about who you really are, he’s unable to grasp the full extent of your reality. The situation becomes even more complicated when a certain someone makes him feel profoundly unwelcome, leaving him to question not only your world, but also his place in it.

Disclaimer: This series is heavily inspired by the movie Crazy Rich Asians, with the storyline closely following the original film's plot. However, I wanted to reimagine it as a fanfiction, where Jungkook and OC take center stage as the main protagonists. While I’ve kept the core elements and themes from the movie, I’ve added my own touches here and there, such as altering certain character dynamics and incorporating a few original settings. Some scenes are directly inspired by the movie, and I’ve worked to recreate them in a way that it hopefully resonates with the fans of the movie. Hope you enjoy!!

Word Count: 11.9k+

Chapter Warnings: protected sex, oral (m. and f. receiving), conversations and scenes directly taken from the movie, mentions of culture, traditions etc, subtle self-racist comment (originally said by peik lin from the movie), mentions of affair, whistleblowing, background check. (lmk if i missed anything)

A/N: okay i loved writing this part so much, mainly because i had to rewatch the movie again and make a note of all the dialogues i wanted to use. Y/N AND JUNGKOOK ARE SOSOOSOSOS IN LOVE THEY'RE MAKING ME SICK OMGMGMG. i had to pause every time i had to write a fluffy scene because honestly, ME WHENNNNN. sorry, i'm just lonely and i wish i had a man like nick young or jungkook. anyways, i hope you like this part !! stay tuned for more <3

part 6

"You will never be enough."

The words reverberate like a broken record in Jungkook’s mind, gnawing at him from the inside, sharp and unyielding. His stomach churns as his thoughts are consumed by the memory of your mother’s cold, piercing gaze... the eerie, almost predatory smile that never quite reached her eyes... her low voice, slicing through him with the precision of a blade. It’s all he can hear, all he can feel.

"You will never be enough."

He had always known... ever since he stepped into your world, ever since he met your mother for the first time, that she didn’t approve of him. But to hear it from her lips, spoken directly to him, was a blow that shattered every ounce of self-worth he had left.

"You will never be enough."

It felt personal, like every word was aimed at him, carving into his chest. The way she scrutinized him with such disdain, as though deeming him unworthy of your love. Her words were clear... He would never measure up. He would never be truly worthy to love you.

"You will never be enough."

His throat tightens as he swallows, his jaw clenching involuntarily. The words echo on loop in his mind, relentless and cruel. He just can’t escape them.

"You will never be eno—"

"Baby, are you even listening to me?" Your voice suddenly slices through the storm in his mind. Jungkook snaps his head towards you, his gaze meeting yours as you sit beside him, confusion flickering in your eyes. Your hands grip the steering wheel, steady and calm, a contrast to the chaos in his head.

In an instant, the world around him comes rushing back. The smell of your car, the soft hum of the engine, the lingering traffic weaving through the streets.

"Is everything okay?" You chuckle at his expression, glancing at him before returning your focus to the road. "You were zoned out." You say softly, your voice warm, but still laced with concern. Jungkook takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling as he leans back against the passenger seat.

After making dumplings with your family, you had suggested that the two of you should do something together to spend your time here, in Daegu. So now, he finds himself in your car, driving to a destination unknown to him. You told him it was a surprise.

"Nothing... I... I was just thinking about where we're headed." Jungkook murmurs, his voice steady despite the turmoil raging within. He forces himself to meet your gaze, hoping the storm inside him doesn't show through the cracks.

The memory of your mother’s scornful words claws at him, but he fights to push it down, to bury it deep where it can’t touch him now.

You, blissfully unaware of the silent battle he’s waging, laugh softly, your voice like a soothing balm to his fractured thoughts. "It’s a surprise, cutie." you tease, your eyes crinkling with mischief as you wink at him.

Your foot presses down on the accelerator, and the car surges forward, the playful smile on your lips making Jungkook’s heart ache with adoration. He mirrors your smile, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

The cityscape unfolds around him, bathed in the golden hues of the setting sun. Shades of orange and pink streak the sky like an artist’s masterpiece, but Jungkook barely notices.

The vivid memory of your mother’s piercing gaze and the cruel edge of her voice replay in his mind, over and over. He shakes his head lightly, trying to focus on the present, on you, and the mystery of this surprise you’ve planned.

Minutes pass, and the car finally comes to a smooth stop in front of an imposing building. Jungkook’s brows knit together as he gazes up at the towering structure, its sleek glass exterior reflecting the fiery hues of the sunset.

His lips part slightly, confusion etched across his face. "What... what is this place?" he asks, his voice laced with curiosity. You simply unbuckle your seatbelt, a sly smile playing on your lips. "Just follow me." you say, slipping out of the car.

The valet greets you warmly, taking your keys as you take Jungkook’s hand, your fingers lacing through his as you lead him towards the grand entrance.

Inside, the lobby is breathtaking. Crystal chandeliers cast a soft, golden glow over the space, illuminating polished marble floors and opulent decor. The air carries a faint scent of jasmine and vanilla, luxurious and inviting.

You don’t pause to check in by the reception and simply walk towards the elevator, your steps light and confident. Jungkook follows, his curiosity piqued despite himself. "Baby, where are we going?" he asks as you step into the elevator and press the button for the highest floor.

"You’ll see." you reply with a playful giggle, looping your arm through his and leaning your head lightly against his shoulder. Your cheeky smile makes his heart stutter, momentarily silencing the insecurities clawing at him.

Despite everything, you’re here with him, planning something just for him. He clings to that thought, letting it steady him.

The elevator dings softly as it reaches the top floor. The doors slide open, revealing a dimly lit corridor that leads to an open-air rooftop. The cool evening breeze brushes against Jungkook’s skin as you guide him outside.

His breath catches as his eyes instantly fall on the scene before him. At the edge of the rooftop, overlooking the glittering city lights, is a table for two, draped in white linen and adorned with flickering candles.

Twinkling fairy lights are strung around the railings nearby, casting a warm, ethereal glow over the setting. Delicate petals of red and white roses are scattered across the table and the ground around it, creating a pathway that leads to the intimate setup.

Jungkook’s lips part in awe as he takes in the scene, his heart swelling with a mixture of emotions. You tug on his hand gently, drawing him closer to the table. "Do you like it?" you ask, your voice soft and hopeful, your eyes searching his for a reaction.

Jungkook’s gaze shifts from the breathtaking setup to you, his heart clenching at the sight of your radiant smile. For a moment, the weight of your mother’s words fades into the background, eclipsed by the warmth of your presence.

"I love it." he immediately says, his voice thick with emotion. And as you pull out a chair for him, he sits down, feeling, for the first time in hours, a glimmer of peace.

Here, with you, beneath the slowly emerging stars, he allows himself to believe—if only for a fleeting moment—that he might just be enough.

Once he's seated, you walk around the table with a grace that has his heart skipping a beat as you take your seat opposite to him, the golden glow of the candles casting warm shadows across your face.

"I arranged this as a way... to thank you." you say softly, leaning forward to take his hands into yours. "For what?" he asks, tilting his head slightly, his soft eyes searching yours. "Thank you for coming here with me." you begin, your voice gentle but earnest.

"I know it hasn’t been easy for you. Meeting my family, enduring all those formal events, dealing with Wooyoung..." His fingers twitch slightly at the mention of the name, and you pause, your thumb brushing over his knuckles in a soothing rhythm.

"You’ve handled so much, Kook." you continue, your voice dipping lower, more intimate. "I know it’s been overwhelming, and yet, you’ve been nothing but kind and patient. You’ve been so amazing, even when things got... complicated." You smile softly, and Jungkook's lips curve into a matching expression.

"You don’t have to thank me, baby." he murmurs. "I’m glad I’m here with you. Being by your side, spending time with you... it’s everything I could ever want." He lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss on your knuckles, and you can’t help but blush.

"I love you." he whispers, his voice barely audible, but you catch every word as if it were etched into the night. "I love you too." you reply, your gaze soft and unwavering.

The world fades for a moment, leaving only the two of you, the city lights twinkling in the distance like a million silent witnesses to your love.

The moment lingers, perfect and serene, until your eyes widen suddenly with excitement. "Oh! There’s something else." you exclaim, breaking the silence as you pull your hands away and slide your chair slightly back.

Jungkook watches you, confusion flickering in his eyes as you bend down, your hand disappearing under the linen-draped table. You pull out a box from underneath the table, wrapped in silver paper as you grin widely at him.

"What’s this?" he asks, his brows furrowing as you push the box towards him. "Just open it." you say with a giggle, motioning for him to unwrap the gift.

He carefully peels back the wrapping, his fingers delicate as if the gift might shatter in his hands. When the paper falls away, revealing the box beneath, his breath catches. His eyes widen as they land on the unmistakable logo and the words printed across the surface.

"No way..." he whispers, disbelief coloring his tone. He looks up at you, his lips parted in astonishment. "You... you got me a camera?"

You nod, your smile growing as you watch his reaction. "Not just any camera." you tease. "The latest model. I did my research, Mr. Photographer."

Jungkook’s hands shake slightly as he unboxes it, pulling out the glossy camera and turning it over in his hands like it’s the most precious thing he’s ever touched. His fingers move instinctively, adjusting the lens, checking the buttons, his photographer's instincts kicking in.

"Babe..." he says softly, his voice tinged with awe. "This is incredible. But..." He trails off, looking at you with those wide doe eyes that make your heart melt. "This is so so expensive... how can I accept this? You really didn’t have to—"

"This is the least I could do, Kook." you interject, leaning forward, your voice carrying both playfulness and affection. "Especially after that idiot Wooyoung broke your camera." you say, your nose scrunching in slight anger. "I know you have other cameras, but I really wanted to gift you one and make up for what that asshole did." you say.

Jungkook’s eyes glisten as he processes your words, the weight of your thoughtfulness settling in his chest. He sets the camera down carefully and reaches for your hands again. "Baby..." he says, his voice trembling slightly.

"I don’t even know what to say. This... this means everything to me. Thank you... Thank you so much." His words are sincere, but they feel inadequate for the gratitude he truly feels.

So instead, he stands up and leans across the table, cupping your face in his hands, and kisses you. It’s soft and slow, his lips lingering against yours as if trying to pour all the emotions he can’t put into words, into that one kiss.

When he pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, and his smile is radiant, the earlier heaviness in his heart completely erased. "I love you so much." he whispers, his eyes shining as the reflections of the lights and the candles glimmer in his eyes.

"I love you too." you reply, smiling at him. And as the city sparkles under you and the candles flicker between you, both of you know that this moment... this love, is all that matters.

//

Jungkook's eyes widen as you nonchalantly pull a keycard from your pocket after the waiter clears the table. He stares at you, disbelief etched on his face. "No way... you booked a room?" he asks, his voice tinged with awe.

You smirk, leaning forward slightly, your tone playful and dripping with mischief. "You really thought the night was going to end with just dinner?" You arch an eyebrow at him, and the teasing glint in your eyes has his heart racing.

Jungkook chuckles, running a hand through his hair as he leans back in his chair. His lips curl into a warm, affectionate smile as he shakes his head. "You’re full of surprises tonight, aren’t you?"

Without missing a beat, you stand, extending your hand towards him, your grin widening. "Come on, We don’t have time to waste." you urge. His laughter fills the space as he picks up the camera box in one hand, letting his other hand intertwine with yours.

"You’re about to have the hottest, steamiest, mind boggling sex of your life." you exaggerate, throwing a playful wink over your shoulder as you tug him towards the elevator.

The second the elevator doors slide shut after you press the number of the floor your suite is located on, you waste no time. With a confident step forward, you push him gently against the cool elevator wall, your lips crashing onto his in a kiss so intense it leaves him momentarily stunned.

His breath hitches, his grip instinctively tightening on the camera box. But within moments, he responds, one hand sliding down to your waist, holding you close as he surrenders to the fiery passion between you.

The kiss is electric, consuming, and utterly knee-weakening. You tug lightly at his lower lip, and a soft groan escapes him, his free hand clutching your hip.

Time feels suspended, the air thick with heat and longing. His lips move against yours with fervor, matching your intensity, as if this moment is the only thing that matters. The ding of the elevator arriving on your floor pulls you both back to reality, though his dazed expression says he’s still lost in the kiss.

Licking your lips, you grin and take his hand again. "Come on." you whisper, your voice a blend of excitement and seduction as you drag him out of the elevator.

Jungkook follows silently, his heart pounding in his chest as you guide him down the softly lit corridor. The quiet elegance of the hallway feels almost surreal, but his focus is entirely on you... your determined stride, the sway of your hips, the way your hand fits perfectly in his.

When you stop in front of the door to your suite, you quickly swipe the keycard and push the door open, stepping inside with him close behind.

The suite is luxurious, with a breathtaking view of the city skyline, but neither of you pays it much attention. Jungkook sets the camera box carefully on the polished table near the door, and before he can say a word, his hands are already back on you, pulling you towards him as he plops down onto the edge of the plush bed.

You stand between his legs, his dark eyes locked onto yours, filled with affection and desire. Without hesitation, you lean down, wrapping your arms around his neck and capturing his lips in another kiss.

This one is slower, deeper, yet no less passionate. His hands glide up your sides, fingers splayed as if he’s trying to memorize every curve. Jungkook groans softly against your lips, his hands traveling to the small of your back as he pulls you closer.

His kiss is breathtaking, tender yet fervent, as if he’s pouring every ounce of love and longing into the connection. The gentle scrape of his teeth against your lower lip sends shivers down your spine, and your knees nearly buckle as his lips trail down to your jaw, then to the sensitive spot just below your ear.

"God, you’re incredible..." he murmurs, his voice low and husky, filled with awe. His words, combined with the warmth of his breath, make your heart race and your cheeks flush with heat.

You pull back slightly, just enough to catch his gaze. Your hands cradle his face as you smile down at him, your voice soft yet brimming with promise. "You haven’t seen anything yet..."

With methodical grace, you step back, slipping out of his hold. Your fingers find the hem of your top, and in one fluid motion, you pull it over your head, revealing the crimson lace beneath.

The delicate lingerie hugs your curves perfectly, the deep red contrasting beautifully against your skin, and Jungkook's breath hitches audibly. His gaze darkens, pupils blown wide as he drinks you in.

He shifts slightly, unable to mask the effect you have on him, his hands curling into tight fists against the soft mattress. "Like what you see?" you tease, your voice a tantalizing mix of sultry and playful.

Your fingers slowly glide down the column of your neck, before trailing over the swell of your breasts. Your thumb brushes over the delicate lace, accentuating the curves held within.

Jungkook swallows hard, his eyes tracing every inch of your figure with an intensity that makes your skin tingle. He leans back slightly as he remains seated on the bed, propped on his hands, utterly entranced by the sight before him.

You bite your lip, and reach for the hem of your skirt. You take your time, sliding the fabric down and stepping out of it. Jungkook’s gaze lingers, fixated on the curve of your hips and the way the lace of your underwear hugs your form.

His restraint falters, his arousal evident as he shifts again, his erection straining against the confines of his pants, desperate to be freed.

Stepping closer, you stand between his legs again and this time, he’s quick to act, his hands gripping your hips, his fingertips pressing into your warm skin. "You’re so... so gorgeous." he breathes, his voice low and reverent, as he looks up at you like you're the most beautiful thing on this planet.

You lean down, your lips brushing his in a kiss that starts soft but grows in urgency. His hands move instinctively, sliding to the curve of your ass and gripping the soft flesh, pulling you closer because close isn't just close enough for him.

Your fingers trail to the hem of his T-shirt, breaking the kiss just long enough to peel it off him. You toss it carelessly onto the floor, your gaze drinking in the sight of his toned chest and sculpted abs. "Who allowed you to be this fine?" you murmur, your voice low and teasing, though it trembles slightly with the tension between you.

Jungkook smirks, a dark glint in his eyes as he tugs you closer, his hands firm on your waist. This time, his lips find your neck, trailing kisses that are slow and heated, his tongue tracing the delicate line of your collarbone. Your breath hitches as his mouth works its way down, sending sparks through your body.

You clutch his shoulders for support, your knees threatening to give out as his lips descend further. When he kisses the swell of your breasts through the lace of your bra, a shaky exhale escapes you.

"Who allowed you to be this gorgeous?" he counters, his voice husky, laced with desire. His teeth graze your skin as he nips lightly, leaving you breathless and pliant in his arms.

A soft whimper escapes your lips, and for a fleeting moment, you want to give in completely... let him have you right here, right now. But instead, you gently push yourself away from him, taking a shaky step back.

"Let me make you feel good." you whisper, the softness of your tone carrying a promise. You slowly drop to your knees with a smooth grace, the sight making Jungkook’s breath stop as his eyes widen, a flicker of surprise mixing with raw anticipation as he watches you gather your hair in one hand.

Without hesitation, he stands, his movements rushed, almost frantic, as he tugs his pants down and kicks them aside, not forgetting to retrieve the condom from his wallet and placing it on the mattress within reach. His impatience is palpable, every sharp breath and hurried motion conveying the intensity of his need for you.

When Jungkook slips off his boxers and sits back down, you can’t help but take a moment to admire him. His hardened length stands proudly, thick and veined, a bead of precum glistening at the tip. The sight alone makes your mouth water, anticipation pooling low in your belly.

Your hand moves instinctively, fingers curling delicately around his shaft as your thumb brushes over the bead of precum, smearing it across the sensitive tip.

Jungkook's reaction is immediate, primal... his chest rises sharply as he inhales, hips jerking forward slightly at the first touch of your hand. A low hiss escapes his lips, his lashes fluttering closed as if the sensation is almost too much to bear. Your fingers wrap around him, stroking slowly, as if savoring every inch of his heated skin.

When you lean in and your lips brush the tip of his length, he shudders. The warmth of your mouth engulfs him, and a deep, guttural groan rumbles from his chest, raw and unrestrained. "Fuck, baby..." he rasps, the words spilling out like a confession, laced with both need and awe.

You tease him with languid licks, your tongue tracing the ridge of his tip before gliding down his shaft, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. His hand instinctively finds your hair, gathering it back for you with a firm yet gentle grip.

The tension in his thighs is palpable under your palm as you steady yourself against him, your fingers digging into his skin. With the other hand, you wrap around his base, working in tandem with your mouth, your movements slow and unhurried, building the pressure like a symphony reaching its crescendo.

The wet sounds of your tongue, the rhythmic bob of your head, and his broken, breathy groans create a heady atmosphere. His hips twitch involuntarily, his body betraying his restraint as he mutters under his breath. "God, you feel so fucking good."

You hum softly, the vibration eliciting another throaty moan from him. His fingers tighten in your hair, not to control you, but as if anchoring himself against the storm of pleasure coursing through his body. Each movement of your mouth feels like it’s unraveling him piece by piece, leaving him utterly at your mercy.

You glance up at him through your lashes, the sight before you utterly intoxicating. Jungkook’s head is thrown back, his mouth slightly parted, chest rising and falling rapidly, each labored breath igniting a fire deep within you.

The way his body responds to your touch sends a rush of heat coursing through you, your arousal pooling between your thighs, your underwear undeniably damp as you fight the growing urge to touch yourself, to lose yourself in the sounds he’s making.

Spurred on by his reaction, you quicken your pace, your hand and mouth moving in perfect harmony. You take him deeper, testing your limits, each movement fueled by the soft, blissful groans spilling from his lips.

"Shit—" Jungkook groans, his voice raspier now, his grip on your hair tightening as his hips buck involuntarily. He’s losing himself, succumbing to the overwhelming pleasure, his restraint slipping like sand through his fingers. His thigh tenses under your hand, the muscles flexing as his body reacts to your touch.

Your tongue swirls around his tip, savoring the taste of him before you hollow your cheeks and take him deeper, your hand pumping in time with the rhythm of your mouth.

"Fuck, baby, just like that..." he mutters, his voice thick and unsteady, every word a testament to how utterly undone he is. You quicken your movements further, the slide of your lips and the tight grip of your hand driving him closer to the edge.

His moans grow louder, more desperate, as he teeters on the brink. "God, you're gonna make me lose it." he chokes out, his eyes squeezing shut, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of what you're giving him.

You hum in response, the vibration sending a shudder through his body, and you feel him twitch against your tongue, his breaths coming faster, his body tightening, ready to unravel entirely in your hands.

Jungkook's voice is strained, rough with desire as his fingers tighten in your hair, gently pulling you back. "Stop..." he breathes out, his chest heaving, eyes dark and filled with an almost desperate intensity.

"If you keep going, I’m going to cum... and I can’t—" His voice trembling with urgency as his gaze locks onto yours. "I need to feel you, baby. I need to be inside you." The raw intensity in his words sends a shiver racing down your spine.

You release him slowly, your touch lingering on his thigh for a fleeting moment. Your eyes drink him in... the way his chest heaves with every labored breath, his hair damp and sticking messily to his forehead, and his lips, swollen and red from biting down in restraint.

Jungkook’s gaze drops to your glistening lips, the evidence of him clear, and his breath catches in his throat. The way you look up at him, your lashes framing your heavy-lidded eyes, is enough to make him lose control.

His gaze trails further down, taking in the rise and fall of your chest, your breasts drawing his attention with every shallow breath as you try to steady yourself.

"Then take me." you whisper, your voice soft but charged with the same urgency burning in his eyes. You rise to your feet, your fingers trailing up his thighs, then his chest, as you carefully straddle him. His hands find your hips instantly, holding you up.

"God..." he mutters, his head falling back momentarily as he adjusts you in his lap. His hands slide up your sides, grazing the curve of your waist before they settle on your back, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you.

His lips crash against yours, the kiss hungry and all-consuming, his need for you evident in every movement. His hands trail down your sides, slipping beneath the fabric of your underwear as his fingers press into the soft flesh of your hips.

You push yourself against him, kissing him with a fervor that leaves you both breathless. Your lips move together in a heated, desperate rhythm until Jungkook succumbs, falling back onto the mattress with you on top of him.

Your hips begin to grind against his hardened length, eliciting a soft moan from your lips that only spurs him on. His hands tighten around your hips, guiding your movements as his grip becomes possessive, almost needy.

Jungkook’s fingers wander, tracing a tantalizing path to your core. He slips them beneath the thin fabric of your underwear, his touch igniting a fire that courses through your body. “God… you’re soaked.” he rasps, his voice hoarse and laden with desire as he pulls back from the kiss to meet your eyes.

“Only for you.” you reply breathlessly, your gaze locking with his, full of need. That’s all it takes for Jungkook to act. With a growl of impatience, he flips you over effortlessly, trapping you beneath him, the mattress pressing against your back as his body hovers above yours.

The second you’re on your back, his hands are on you, peeling your underwear down with a slowness that has you shaking. He flicks the fabric to the floor, his dark eyes drinking in the sight of you as you spread your legs for him.

The raw hunger in his gaze makes your cheeks flush, but you don’t look away, offering him everything, showing him the effect only he has on you. “Touch me…” you whisper, voice trembling.

“Touch me, Kook, please.” The plea falls from your lips, and he takes a steadying breath as his fingers begin their descent. They trail down the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, teasing, igniting a fire that only he can tame.

He pauses, his gaze lingering on your center, taking in every detail, every sign of your desire for him. “Come here…” His voice is soft yet commanding as he reaches for you, cradling you against his strong arms.

He shifts, sitting back against the headboard and pulling you onto his lap as the back of your head rests against his firm chest. His hands roam your body with a gentle intensity, starting at your stomach, his touch slow and soothing.

His lips graze the shell of your ear, his teeth nipping lightly as his breath tickles your skin. “Spread your legs.” he murmurs, his voice like molten honey. You obey without hesitation, letting your thighs fall open as his hands slide downward, from your stomach to your core.

The sensation sends shivers up your spine, and your lips part as you watch his every move. When he dips a finger into your wetness, your body jerks involuntarily, pressing you back against his chest.

His arms flex around you, holding you securely as he begins to move, skillfully exploring you with care. Each motion pulls soft gasps from your lips, the pleasure building with every passing second.

His finger glides through your folds with an intended precision, igniting sensations that make you whimper and moan. He traces slow circles around your clit, his touch light but electric, sending waves of pleasure radiating through your core.

You tilt your head back against his chest, your lips parted as soft, breathy moans escape you. "So sensitive." he muses, his voice deep and velvety, tinged with awe. He presses a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering as if to ground you, even as his fingers threaten to unravel you completely.

He adds a second finger, his movements measured yet intense, curling them just right to hit the spot that makes you cry out. Your hips lift instinctively, seeking more of him, and he groans at your eagerness.

"That's it, baby." he encourages, his free hand coming up to grip your thigh, holding you steady as he works you over. His thumb brushes against your clit in tandem with his fingers, the combination drawing a sharp gasp from you.

"Kook..." you whimper, your voice trembling as the coil in your stomach tightens with every pass of his skilled fingers. "Keep saying my name." he urges, his voice low and commanding. "I want to hear you when you fall apart for me."

Your head tilts to the side, and he takes the opportunity to kiss along your neck, his lips leaving a trail of heat against your skin. His teeth graze your pulse point, his tongue soothing the spot before he sucks lightly, marking you in a way that makes you shiver.

"You're so perfect, love." he whispers against your skin. "So fucking perfect... and all mine." His words make your heart race, and you find yourself clinging to him, your nails digging into his forearm as the pleasure builds to an almost unbearable peak.

The tension in your core spirals tighter and tighter until it feels like you might snap. "Baby... I... I'm so close." you manage to stammer as he mercilessly pushes his fingers into you. "Let go, baby." he coaxes, his pace never faltering. "I've got you."

With his encouragement, the coil finally snaps, and you cry out his name, your body trembling as the waves of your climax crash over you. He doesn't stop, drawing out every last bit of your pleasure as he holds you through it, his strong arms clutching you to him.

As the aftershocks ripple through you, you collapse against his chest, your breaths ragged and uneven. Jungkook brushes a hand through your hair, his touch soothing as he presses gentle kisses to your cheek and neck.

"You’re incredible." he whispers, his voice soft now, filled with adoration. Still dazed, you tilt your head up to meet his gaze. His dark eyes are filled with a warmth that makes your heart flutter, and as he leans down to kiss you, it’s slow and tender, a stark contrast to the fire that just consumed you.

But the hunger in his gaze remains, and when his lips leave yours, he smirks, his hands already beginning to roam again. "We’re not done yet." he says. "I still need to feel you around me, baby."

Your instantly nod, allowing him to guide you with a quiet confidence that makes your pulse race. Jungkook reaches for the condom on the mattress, his fingers deft as he tears it open. There’s an almost reverent care in the way he rolls it on, his eyes flicking to yours.

As you sit on the mattress, your fingers move to your back, unclasping your bra and letting it fall away, exposing your bare chest to him. His gaze locks onto you as he gulps, trying to steady himself. The way his eyes roam over you, drinking in every curve, every detail, makes your skin heat under his attention.

"You’re so beautiful." he murmurs, almost to himself, his voice husky with desire. His hands twitch at his sides as if he’s fighting the urge to just pounce on you, to just devour you. “You ready, baby?” he asks, his tone gentle, though the raw need beneath it is unmistakable.

“Yes.” you breathe, the single word carrying all the trust, the yearning, the connection between you. Your hands find his shoulders as he leans forward, hovering above you.

His body radiates warmth, his eyes searching yours as he dips his head, capturing your lips in a soft kiss that quickly turns heated.

As he carefully lines himself up with your entrance, he begins to push inside, inch by inch, filling you completely. The sensation draws a groan from both of you, as your bodies adjust to the intimate connection.

Your walls envelop him perfectly, warm and snug, making him curse under his breath. His forehead rests briefly against yours, his jaw tight as he savors the feeling of being joined with you in the most profound way.

“God, you feel... you feel so good.” he murmurs, his voice trembling as he begins to move, his hips rolling in slow, delicious thrusts. Each push, each plunge, is a silent declaration of his love for you, communicated through the way he holds you, the way his body seeks yours.

Your back arches, a soft moan spilling from your lips as his pace gradually builds. His hands grip your hips, steadying you as he moves with a rhythm that feels like it was made for you alone. \

“Jungkook…” you gasp, your voice a mix of need and adoration, and his dark eyes meet yours, filled with a fierce, unrelenting love that makes your heart clench. “I love you.” he whispers, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips, his thrusts never faltering. “I’ll always love you... fuck.”

//

"Wait, whaaat?" Yoongi’s voice drags, a blend of disbelief and curiosity as he lifts a fry between his fingers. "So, was she like, 'You will never be enough for my daughter.' or was she more like..." He pauses, slowly placing the fry back in the basket.

With a dramatic flourish, he twirls his fingers in the air in front of Jungkook's face. "Youuuu..." he emphasizes, stretching the word. "Youuuu will never be good enough for my daughter?" he asks, each syllable punctuated for maximum effect.

Jungkook exhales sharply rolling his eyes, his fingers absently picking at the fries in the basket, flicking them with a bit too much carelessness. "It’s... more like the second one." he murmurs, his eyes flickering up to meet Yoongi’s.

“Oh…” Yoongi exhales as he leans back against the worn leather booth, his arms crossing over his chest. For a moment, the ambient hum of clinking silverware and murmured conversations from the surrounding tables fills the silence between them.

It had been two days since dumpling day and the amazing night he had spent with you, but the interaction with your mother from that day still lingers in Jungkook's mind like a stubborn shadow.

The rehearsal dinner had happened just yesterday and thankfully it had gone off without any major hiccups, thanks to his unwavering focus on sticking close to you and limiting his interactions to just your cousins, Namjoon and Seokjin.

But even in the warmth of the evening, Jungkook could feel it... the sharp, unwavering gaze of your mother drilling into him from across the room. It had his palms sweating beneath the table, his throat dry despite the steady flow of wine he forced himself to sip.

The entire time, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was just waiting for him to slip up, to give her ammunition for whatever silent judgment she harbored.

Now, hours before the actual wedding, the weight of it all is threatening to crush him. If her stare alone had him doubting himself last night, what would it be like during the actual ceremony? The thought of enduring her scrutiny throughout the night has his stomach churning with dread.

And what if she says something to him again? What if her disdain becomes so apparent that everyone else notices? Because her dismissal doesn’t just cut at him, it chips away at the foundation of the love and happiness you’ve both built together.

Jungkook tries to remind himself of everything else. The way your eyes light up when you look at him, the way your cousins laugh at his jokes, the endless reassurances from you that he belongs here, that he’s enough. And yet, the knot in his chest refuses to loosen.

"Well, honestly, I just think it's typical rich mom behavior. She’s probably bitter that her daughter’s found happiness in something that wasn’t part of her perfect plan, you know?" Yoongi says, his tone steady but with an underlying hint of frustration.

Jungkook sighs heavily, his head resting in his hands as his elbows slouch against the table. "I feel like I shouldn’t even go to the wedding." he mutters. There’s a heaviness in the way his words hang in the air, as if he’s been carrying the thought for far too long.

"You know, it’s Taehyung’s and Miyoen’s day. I don’t wanna cause any drama there or make it all awkward." The weight of his self-doubt presses his shoulders into a slump, his body folding in on itself as though he’s trying to make himself smaller, less visible.

He exhales sharply, his breath fogging the edge of the coffee cup he’s been nursing for the last hour. Yoongi leans back in his seat, arms crossed, one eyebrow slightly arched in annoyance. He doesn’t interrupt, waiting for Jungkook to finish.

Jungkook’s voice falters as he continues, his eyes fixed on the chipped edge of the table. "I feel like I should just sit it out, you know? Maybe tell Y/n I had food poisoning or something."

He glances up tentatively, only to find Yoongi’s gaze boring into him with a mix of incredulity and irritation. Jungkook shifts uncomfortably under the weight of it. "What?" he asks softly, sitting up straighter as if trying to defend himself against the silent judgment.

"That’s bullshit." Yoongi says flatly. He leans forward, his forearms resting on the table as he fixes Jungkook with a sharp, unrelenting stare. "You’re just scared."

The accusation makes Jungkook bristle. "No, I’m not." he shoots back quickly, his defensive tone undercut by the way he shoves a fry into his mouth, chewing furiously as if the act will shield him from further scrutiny.

Yoongi doesn’t back down. His gaze sharpens, and his voice takes on a calculated edge as he gestures pointedly with his hands. "Okay, here’s what you need to understand, alright?" He pauses, giving Jungkook no room to interrupt. "It’s not about getting Y/n’s mom to like you. It’s about getting her to respect you, alright?"

Jungkook’s brow furrows slightly, his posture rigid as Yoongi’s words sink in. "Right now..." Yoongi continues, his tone growing more intense. "She just thinks you’re some undeserving, clueless, gold-digging—"

"Yeah, I got it." Jungkook mutters, cutting him off with a tired nod, but Yoongi isn’t done. "... trashy, unrefined... banana." he continues.

The insult lands with a dull thud in the conversation, and Jungkook lets out a long sigh, shaking his head. "Yellow on the outside, white on the inside." Yoongi clarifies, his expression stoic. (A/N: as an asian myself, i'm not trying to be racist, THESE ARE ALL PEIK LIN'S LINES FROM THE MOVIE)

Jungkook clicks his tongue in annoyance. "I know what a banana is." he snaps, rolling his eyes, though there’s no real heat in his voice, just a resigned frustration. Yoongi leans back slightly, his sharp gaze unyielding.

"She just thinks you’re this whitewashed Korean American who’s lost touch with your roots, all westernized and disconnected." He gestures vaguely with one hand, as if painting the picture of Jungkook that exists in your mother’s mind.

"When, in reality..." Yoongi’s voice grows louder, more insistent. "You’re this super smart, highly professional photographer in freaking New York City." He smacks Jungkook’s arm lightly, the gesture more encouraging than chastising. "Show her that side of you, you know?"

For the first time, Jungkook’s shoulders relax slightly. His head tilts up, and his eyes meet Yoongi’s with a flicker of renewed determination. "You’re right." he says softly, the words carrying the weight of reluctant acceptance.

"Damn straight, I’m right." Yoongi scoffs, leaning back with a self-satisfied smirk. "It's Min Yoongi. I’m always right." he quickly adds with a shurg.

"Yeah... she’s like trying to play a game of chicken with me." Jungkook says, his tone thoughtful but tinged with frustration. Yoongi nods subtly, his lips pursed as he listens, but Jungkook isn’t done.

"Where she’s like… coming at me and like, thinking I’m going to swerve like a chicken." Jungkook continues, his voice rising slightly as he gestures loosely with his hands, mimicking the imagined confrontation.

"But you can’t SWERVE." Yoongi declares with absolute certainty as he sharply shakes his finger, his tone firm as though it’s a universal truth.

Jungkook straightens slightly in his seat, nodding in agreement. "I’m not gonna swerve. Not for her." he says, the determination in his voice growing stronger with each word.

"No, chickens are bitches, dude!" Yoongi scoffs, his voice louder now, his expression incredulous as though the very idea of "swerving" is beneath them both.

Jungkook shakes his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. "And I’m not a chicken." he says quietly, the words laced with a steely resolve.

"You’re not a chicken." Yoongi affirms, leaning forward as he locks eyes with Jungkook. "You’re gonna roll up to that wedding, and you’re gonna be like… BAK-BAK, BITCH!" Yoongi exclaims, his eyes wide as if delivering sage advice disguised in absurdity.

Jungkook, caught up in the moment, echoes the phrase, his voice steadier now. "Bak-bak, bitch."

Yoongi bursts out laughing, his cackle loud and infectious. "Chickens are bitches!" he yells and the outburst is so sudden and jarring that a few heads turn from the nearby tables, the clinking of silverware momentarily pausing as the other diners glance their way as the two boys snort, giggling to themselves.

Realizing they’ve drawn unwanted attention, Yoongi raises his hands apologetically, still chuckling under his breath. "Sorry, guys." he mutters to the other patrons, his voice laced with poorly concealed amusement. He bites down on his grin, his eyes glinting mischievously as he turns back to Jungkook.

The laughter between them fades slowly, leaving a lingering warmth in the air as Jungkook leans back in his seat, the corners of his lips still twitching from their shared joke. He looks at Yoongi for a moment, his gaze thoughtful before his expression turns slightly nervous.

"What are you doing tonight?" he asks suddenly. Yoongi raises an eyebrow, leaning back with a casual shrug. "I was gonna go play video games or something. Why?" he replies, his tone nonchalant but tinged with curiosity.

Jungkook shifts slightly in his seat, his fingers brushing against the edge of the table as he hesitates for a second. Then, he looks up, his eyes almost hopeful.

"Help me get dressed for the wedding. You know... just like you did for the tea ceremony." he says, his voice softer, almost like he’s asking for more than just wardrobe assistance, like he’s asking for backup in a battle he’s not sure he can face alone.

Yoongi’s eyes light up instantly, his grin widening into something almost devilish. It’s as if this is the moment he’s been waiting for. He leans forward, resting his forearms on the table as he stares Jungkook down, his grin only growing wider.

"Oh, you’re in for a ride, baby."

//

"You look absolutely stunning, Miyeon." you say softly, a genuine smile gracing your lips as you take in her reflection in the mirror. The day of the much-anticipated wedding has finally arrived, and as both the groom's sister and the bride's best friend, you’re honored to play the role of bridesmaid.

Miyeon stands in front of the mirror, radiant in her luxurious wedding gown. The fabric hugs her figure perfectly, the intricate lace and beadwork shimmering under the warm lighting. Her eyes glisten with a mixture of excitement and nerves, and you can’t help but feel a swell of pride at how breathtaking she looks.

Her parents linger in the room, their eyes filled with emotion as they fuss over her veil. Realizing they might need a moment alone, you quietly excuse yourself, stepping out onto the balcony just outside Miyeon's dressing room.

The afternoon breeze greets you as you lean against the railing, your eyes sweeping over the scene below. The wedding venue’s grand entrance is a hive of activity.

Cars pull up one after another, releasing a stream of notable figures ranging from celebrities to politicians to business tycoons... all dressed to impress. The press hovers near the barricades, the paparazzi relentlessly snapping photos of every arrival.

You pull out your phone from your clutch, glancing at the time. It’s nearly 4 PM, and you find yourself wondering where Jungkook is. He had mentioned meeting Yoongi for lunch earlier, especially because the two of you were set to leave Daegu two days after the wedding.

Smiling to yourself, you dial his number, and he picks up almost immediately. "Hey, baby, where are you?" you ask, your voice light with curiosity. "Hi, love." Jungkook replies, his tone warm and familiar. "I’m on my way. Yoongi was helping me get dressed."

Your smile widens as a soft chuckle escapes your lips. "Oh really? Babe, if you wanted new clothes, you could’ve just told me." you tease, a playful lilt in your voice.

Jungkook laughs on the other end, the sound making your heart flutter. "Oh, I think I could just use Yoongi’s expert fashion advice for free." he counters, his voice laced with humor.

"Saying this when you have a fashion designer girlfriend…" you trail off, feigning offense. "Wow, Kook. Maybe you should just date Yoongi." You can hear the grin in his voice as he responds. "Don’t tempt me, love. He did make me look pretty sharp today."

You laugh softly, turning around to lean your back against the cool railing. "Anyways, you’ll be here soon, right?" you ask, your voice light but laced with a hint of impatience. "Of course, cutie." Jungkook replies, his tone playful and warm. "Send me pictures. I want to see how you look."

You giggle, unable to stop yourself from imagining the grin on his face as he says it. "Nuh-uh." you tease, shaking your head even though he can’t see you. "Why don’t you come see for yourself?"

He groans dramatically, a soft whine escaping through the phone. "Fine." he admits with mock defeat, and you can practically hear the pout in his voice. You can’t help but laugh at how endearing he sounds. "I’ll see you soon, okay?" he says, his voice dropping into something softer, more sincere. "I love you."

Your chest feels warm, a smile tugging at your lips so wide it’s as if he’s right there, seeing it for himself. "I love you too." you reply, your voice equally tender.

//

"Look at that crowd." Yoongi breathes out, his voice laced with disbelief as he glances at the swarm of people buzzing near the barricades outside the wedding venue.

The car moves slowly past the chaos, the low hum of the engine almost drowned out by the excited murmur of the spectators and the clicking of cameras.

Jungkook's gaze is fixed ahead, his jaw tightening as he takes in the scene of paparazzi standing in clusters around the grand entrance and outside the huge gates. His stomach churns with unease, but he keeps his expression neutral, masking the nerves bubbling beneath the surface.

"Holy fuck, isn’t that Gong Yoo?" Yoongi exclaims as he continues to drive, his head turning to follow the tall, impeccably dressed actor moving through the crowd. "No way he’s here too."

Jungkook barely registers Yoongi’s excitement, his focus locked on the entrance and the daunting spectacle awaiting him. The weight of the moment presses down heavily on his chest, but a mantra loops in his mind. Don’t swerve. Don’t swerve.

Once Yoongi enters through the gates, the car slows as he pulls up right in front of the hall's huge entrance. He cuts the engine and turns to Jungkook, his expression softening as he sees the tension etched across his friend’s face. "You got this, man." he says, tapping Jungkook’s thigh in a gesture of encouragement.

Jungkook swallows hard, forcing a tight-lipped smile as he nods. His hand hovers over the door handle, hesitating for a brief moment before gripping it firmly. "Thanks a lot, Yoongi." he murmurs, voice steady despite the flutter of anxiety in his chest.

As soon as he steps out, the world explodes into noise and light. The crowd erupts in cheers, and the paparazzi go into a frenzy, their voices overlapping as they call out for his attention. Jungkook takes a deep breath, standing straighter as he adjusts the lapels of his Gucci blazer.

The suit Yoongi helped him pick is immaculate... a sleek, tailored masterpiece in dark green with subtle gold accents along the cuffs and collar. It fits him like a glove, exuding quiet luxury without screaming for attention.

Jungkook’s feet carry him onto the red carpet that stretches like a lifeline towards the grand entrance. A cameraman calls out for him to pause, and he obliges, though his movements are awkward and unsure. He shifts his weight, not quite knowing what to do with his hands or where to direct his gaze.

He’s used to being behind the camera, crafting moments rather than being the subject of them. But somehow, he manages a polite smile, inclining his head slightly as the flashes intensify. After a few long seconds, he mutters a soft "thank you" to the photographers and begins walking again.

The crowd’s noise fades slightly as he nears the entrance, and that’s when he spots a familiar figure, Wooyoung. The man is posing confidently in front of another camera, basking in the attention like it’s his natural habitat.

Jungkook feels his jaw tighten as he watches Wooyoung smirk and adjust his designer tie, clearly reveling in the moment.

As Jungkook strides closer, Wooyoung’s sharp eyes catch his approach. His smirk widens, and he tilts his head, feigning surprise. "Oh..." Wooyoung drawls, his voice dripping with mockery. "Well, well, didn’t expect to see you here."

Jungkook halts just short of the man, his expression unreadable as he regards him coolly. His voice is low and flat when he speaks. "Wooyoung." He inclines his head slightly, his tone devoid of warmth. "You’re in my way."

Wooyoung’s grin falters for a split second but Jungkook doesn’t spare him another glance, his shoulder brushing deliberately against Wooyoung’s as he passes. The last thing Jungkook wants to do is give a man like Wooyoung, his attention.

As Jungkook steps into the grand hall, he’s momentarily taken aback. The venue is nothing short of spectacular, with cascading floral arrangements, chandeliers that glitter like constellations, and a soft golden glow that bathes everything in an ethereal light.

The decorations are opulent yet tasteful, exuding a sense of timeless elegance that leaves him in awe. His gaze sweeps across the hall, taking in the clusters of impeccably dressed guests mingling and chatting. He notes a few familiar faces but doesn’t linger on any of them, his attention is drawn elsewhere.

It’s then that he spots her.

By the far end of the room, near the ornately decorated stage, stands your mother. She’s a vision of poise in her traditional hanbok, the delicate embroidery catching the warm light. Her elegant appearance is nearly overshadowed by the sharpness of her gaze, which is locked squarely on him.

Jungkook feels his breath hitch. The look she’s giving him is unmistakable, icy and unwavering, a silent declaration of her disapproval. Despite the distance, her piercing eyes cut through the space between them, and for a moment, he falters.

Clenching his jaw, Jungkook forces himself to stand tall. He refuses to let her intimidation get the better of him, he refuses to swerve even if his heart races in his chest. He looks away intentionally, seeking a lifeline, and thankfully, he finds one.

Seated a few rows ahead, Seokjin is scrolling through his phone, completely oblivious to Jungkook’s inner turmoil. As Jungkook approaches, Seokjin looks up, and his face breaks into a wide grin.

"Hey, man !!" Seokjin calls out, standing to greet him. Jungkook smiles, grateful for the reprieve, as Seokjin pulls him into a quick hug. "Damn, dude, this suit looks so good on you !!" Seokjin exclaims, giving him an approving pat on the back.

Jungkook chuckles, his tension easing slightly. "Thanks, hyung." he says as they both take their seats. Jungkook exhales, feeling a bit more at ease. This is good. This is manageable. All he needs to do is stick close to the people he knows, at least until you’re done with your bridesmaid duties.

He glances around the room again, this time with a bit more confidence. This is going to be fine, he tells himself. Repeating it like a mantra, he resolves to get through the evening, one moment at a time.

Time seems to stretch and blur as anticipation builds in the room. Soon, the quiet hum of conversations fades as the guests begin taking their seats.

A soft, ethereal melody starts to play, floating gently through the air as the lights dim. The atmosphere transforms into something almost magical, the golden glow of the chandeliers now subdued, casting a romantic haze over the venue.

Jungkook’s eyes drift towards the stage, where Taehyung stands tall and poised. Dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, his hair slicked back, he exudes a sense of effortless charm.

Taehyung’s expression is calm but expectant, his gaze fixed on the grand white doors at the far end of the hall. His lips quirk slightly, betraying the sheer joy and anticipation he feels as he waits for the moment his bride walks down the aisle.

Jungkook leans back in his seat, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. His heart feels light as he watches the scene unfold. The soft rustling of fabric and the delicate sound of heels clicking against the floor signal the beginning of the bridal procession.

Two little girls, the flower girls, step into view first, each carrying small baskets overflowing with petals. They walk down the aisle with practiced grace, scattering the petals with elegance.

The faint murmurs of admiration ripple through the crowd, and Jungkook can’t help but chuckle softly at the way their serious expressions contrast with their tiny frames.

Following them, two bridesmaids glide down the aisle, their dresses flowing like liquid silk with every step. They move in perfect sync, their presence adding to the dreamy ambiance of the moment.

Jungkook’s attention snaps back to the white doors. His pulse quickens slightly, a subtle thrill running through him because he knows you’ll be stepping through them soon.

And then, as if time itself holds its breath, the white doors slowly swing open, revealing you in all your breathtaking beauty. The melody crescendos, wrapping around the room like a soft embrace, but to Jungkook, all sound fades. It feels as though the world has narrowed down to you alone.

You step forward, a delicate bouquet cradled in your hands, each flower chosen with care, adding to the ethereal glow that seems to radiate from you.

Your dress flows like a whispered dream, each movement making the fabric shimmer under the soft golden light. It hugs you in all the right places, the detailed lace and beadwork glinting like stardust, while the sheer layers of tulle give it an almost otherworldly grace.

Jungkook’s breath catches in his throat, his heart pounding as if it’s trying to leap out of his chest. The first sight of you is like a revelation, something so beautiful it feels almost unreal. His eyes soften, the corners of his lips curving into a small, awe-filled smile.

You don’t notice him... your gaze is fixed ahead, your step poised with grace as you make your way down the aisle. Each step you take seems to echo with the beat of his heart, louder and faster with every passing second.

Jungkook leans back slightly, his shoulders relaxing as he allows himself to take you in fully. His gaze follows you, never faltering, as if he’s afraid he might miss even a second of this moment. To him, you look like an angel who has somehow found her way to earth, gracing everyone with her presence.

The soft light dances on your features, highlighting the gentle curve of your smile, the serene confidence in your stride, and the subtle glow that surrounds you. It’s as if the universe itself has conspired to make you shine just for him in this instant.

As you pass him, Jungkook feels his chest tighten, overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of his emotions. His hands grip the edges of his seat as he sits there, utterly captivated, his thoughts a chaotic mess of disbelief and gratitude.

How did I get so lucky? he wonders, his heart swelling with pride and adoration. It’s a question he’s asked himself countless times, but today, in this moment, it feels more poignant than ever.

He watches you continue down the aisle, and for a fleeting moment, he’s certain that nothing in the world could ever compare to this... to you.

Once you finally reach the side of the stage, you turn to face the audience. Your smile remains unwavering, glowing with the joy of the moment, but deep down, your heart flutters with a singular hope... to find one pair of eyes in the sea of faces.

Your gaze sweeps across the crowd, scanning row after row until, finally, you find him. Jungkook is seated just a few rows from the stage, and as if he’s been waiting for this very moment, his eyes are already locked onto you.

There’s a dreamy softness in his gaze, a look you know all too well. It’s the look that has always made your heart race, the one that speaks of quiet adoration and unspoken promises.

The corners of your lips curve higher, your smile widening instinctively as your eyes meet his. And just like that, the world seems to melt away.

Jungkook smiles back at you, his expression filled with fondness, his dimples making an appearance as if to underline the tenderness in his heart. It’s a look that makes your pulse quicken, your heart tumbling over itself in response.

The music swells, becoming more vibrant, more ethereal, and your attention is drawn to the white doors as they open once again. This time, it’s Miyeon, radiant and breathtaking, walking arm-in-arm with her father.

Her gown flows like a cascade of clouds, each step more graceful than the last. A collective gasp ripples through the audience, followed by murmurs of admiration as they take in her surreal beauty.

The setting feels magical... soft lights casting a warm glow, petals scattered across the aisle, and the faint scent of flowers lingering in the air. There’s something about the intimacy of the ceremony, the heartfelt authenticity of the moment, that makes it all feel like a scene from a storybook.

Yet, while everyone else marvels at Miyeon, Jungkook’s gaze remains steadfast on you. He watches the subtle shift in your expression as you look at Miyeon... the way your eyes soften, glistening with affection and pride as your best friend walks closer and closer to the stage.

As Miyeon finally reaches Taehyung, the priest begins the ceremony with a solemn yet tender tone. Words of love and unity fill the air, binding everyone in the room to the sacredness of the moment.

When Taehyung gently pulls Miyeon closer and kisses her, the crowd erupts into applause. The music swells again, a harmonious blend of joy and celebration.

You feel a tear slip down your cheek, overwhelmed by the beauty of it all. This is love, you think, pure and true, and as you instinctively turn to find Jungkook in the audience, your heart skips a beat.

He’s already looking at you, his expression soft, his eyes reflecting every ounce of emotion you feel. You smile at him, unable to hold back the rush of affection that floods your chest. It feels surreal, like a dream you never want to wake up from.

“I love you.” you mouth, hoping he can see it, that he can feel it. Jungkook’s response is almost immediate. His lips move silently, forming the words with absolute clarity. “I love you.”

The after-party of the wedding is nothing short of a blast. The dance floor is alive with energy, guests lost in the rhythm as the music pulses through the venue.

Taehyung and Miyeon are the stars of the night, twirling at the center, their chemistry undeniable as they share an intimate, joyful dance.

Amidst the excitement, you roam around the crowd, trying to find Jungkook but before you can spot him, he spots you. Without a word, he steps towards you, his arms slipping around your waist from behind as he gently pulls you into him.

You gasp at the sudden contact but instantly melt into the warmth of his embrace, feeling the soft press of his lips on your shoulder. “You look spectacular tonight.” he murmurs into your ear, his voice low and warm.

You giggle, turning around to face him, your palms resting on the soft fabric of his blazer. His presence, the way he carries himself with confidence and charm, makes your heart flutter. “You’re the one talking...” you reply, your smile playful.

“I must say…” You trail off, a teasing glint in your eyes. “Yoongi’s pretty good at this.” you add, arching an eyebrow, referring to the “free fashion advice” Jungkook had mentioned earlier.

Jungkook chuckles, his hand resting on your waist as he leans in closer, his lips curling into a grin. “Oh, he’s got his ways.” he admits, shrugging lightly. “But I think I’ve got a little bit of style myself, don’t you think?”

You laugh softly, running your fingers over the fine details of his suit, admiring the way it fits him perfectly. “You definitely do.” you tease, pulling him just a bit closer as the music continues to swirl around you both.

The night proceeds and soon, the music shifts, the soft, romantic melody filling the space, and for a moment, it feels like it's just the two of you. Jungkook holds you close, his arms securely wrapped around you, swaying gently with the rhythm as the both of you slow dance together.

The warmth of his chest is soothing against your cheek as you rest your head there, your body moving in sync with his. The moment feels like it’s suspended in time, as if the world around you fades into the background.

His lips press a tender kiss on the crown of your head, and a soft sigh escapes your lips. Everything about this... this closeness, this peace, this love, is perfect. You wish it could last forever.

But just as you're lost in the serenity of the dance, the moment is shattered by the soft call of an unfamiliar voice. "Miss Kim." the voice says, calm yet insistent.

You reluctantly pull away from Jungkook, your gaze shifting towards the source of the interruption. A maid, standing nearby, looks at you with polite composure. "Your grandmother and your mother would like to meet you and Mr. Jeon." she announces, her tone professional.

Jungkook glances down at you, his brows knitting together in silent confusion. He doesn't say a word, but the unspoken question in his eyes is clear. You exhale softly, a wave of uncertainty tightening in your chest as you try to steady yourself. What could this possibly be about? Why now, of all times?

The timing feels so random, so abrupt, and the questions swirling in your mind only add to your unease. After a few moments of quiet speculation, you glance up at him briefly before turning to the maid. With a small, composed nod, you signal your agreement to meet them.

As Jungkook walks hand in hand with you, following the maid, the lively rhythm of the party fades into the background with each step away from the dance floor. An uneasy tension settles in his chest, and he can’t help but feel a growing sense of anxiety.

Why had your mom and especially your grandmother asked to see the two of you so randomly? The journey to the secluded room at the end of the hall feels strangely heavier, the air thick with tension.

When you reach the door, you spot your grandmother, seated on a grand, velvet sofa. She looks regal, as always, but her expression is unreadable, her eyes sharp.

Standing beside her is your mother, holding a sheet of paper, her face a mask of seriousness. There’s something unsettling about her demeanor, the way her eyes narrow at the sight of you.

"Mama? Grammy?" you call out, your voice laced with confusion as you approach them, Jungkook quietly following behind. You try to maintain composure, but the unease in your chest only grows stronger.

"What’s this all about?" you ask, standing directly in front of them, your gaze flicking between your mother’s serious expression and your grandmother’s unreadable one.

"Jungkook." your grandmother suddenly calls out, her voice sharp. Jungkook stiffens beside you, his shoulders straightening as his name falls from her lips. He bows slightly, his respect unwavering despite the unease creeping up his spine.

"I've only known you for a short time, but it's clear you're a smart man." She pauses, her sharp eyes fixed on Jungkook. He hesitates, unsure whether to take it as a compliment and offer a polite smile, or brace himself for what might follow. Instead, he chooses to remain silent, waiting for her to continue.

"But I will not permit you to ruin my granddaughter and our family's reputation." she states. Jungkook’s jaw tightens, but he remains silent. You, however, feel your heart lurch in your chest. "Grammy, what... what are you saying?" you ask, your voice cracking slightly.

"I'm sorry to tell you, Y/n... but Jungkook here has been hiding a lot about his family... or should I say... his mother." your mother interjects, her voice slicing through the room like a blade. Her gaze shifts to Jungkook, and there’s a cruel sharpness in her eyes.

Jungkook's lips part, struggling to grasp the weight of the accusation. "What are you..." he begins, shaking his head as his throat tightens, words catching in his chest. "What are you talking ab—?"

But before he can finish, your mother cuts him off, her sharp voice already filling the room again. "I hired a private investigator to look into his past—" "Mama, you didn’t !!" you snap, stepping forward, your voice trembling with a mix of fury and disbelief.

Your mother barely spares you a glance, her focus unwavering as she continues speaking. "Your mother... was working for one of our smaller corporate branches in Busan. She wasn’t just an employee... she was involved in an affair with her manager. That alone is disgraceful, but it doesn’t stop there."

Jungkook’s eyes widen, the accusation hitting him like a physical blow. He looks like he’s about to speak, but your mother barrels on. "She became a whistleblower." your mother states, her voice venomous.

"She leaked confidential company information, information that implicated our company in a scandal. She betrayed the very people who gave her a livelihood. And when the consequences started closing in, she fled to New York—with you."

Jungkook flinches at her words, his face paling. His lips part, but no sound comes out. You see the torment in his eyes, the way he’s struggling to process the weight of the accusations against his mother... against himself.

Your chest tightens as you turn to him, your hand instinctively reaching for his. "Jungkook..." you whisper, but he doesn’t meet your gaze. His head is lowered, his jaw clenched so tightly you can see the muscle ticking in his cheek.

"It’s all in here." your mother says, extending the paper in her hands towards you. "Every detail. Every reason why this boy and his family are a liability to ours."

You snatch the paper from her hand, the anger in your veins nearly boiling over. Without even looking at the contents, you crumple it, the paper crinkling loudly in your fist. "You had no right, Mama !!" you say, your voice trembling with rage.

"We had every right." your mother counters, her voice icy. "Do you have any idea what kind of damage this could bring to our family, Y/n? To our reputation? To allow someone like him into our lives—"

"Someone like him?" you cut her off, your voice rising. "You don’t even know him! You don’t know what kind of person he is!"

"Y/n." your grandmother says, her voice calm but firm. "This isn’t about who Jungkook is as a person. This is about what he represents. A future filled with uncertainty. Scandal. You have responsibilities, my dear, and they don’t include risking everything for..." She pauses, her gaze falling on Jungkook, her disdain evident. "For someone whose past is built on deceit."

Jungkook finally speaks, his voice quiet but heavy with emotion. "I didn’t know..." he says, his gaze fixed on the floor. "I didn’t know about any of this."

Your mother lets out a mirthless laugh. "Of course you didn’t. And yet, here you are, dragging my daughter into your mess." she says. "Stop it!" you yell, stepping forward as tears blur your vision. "This isn’t his fault! None of this is his fault!"

"Y/n..." your mother says, her voice softening slightly, as if trying to reason with you. "We cannot be linked to this sort of family."

Jungkook’s head snaps up at this, his eyes locking onto your mother’s with a fiery intensity that burns through the tension in the room.

For a brief moment, silence stretches thin, heavy with unspoken words. Then his voice cuts through, low and steady.

"I don’t want any part of your family."

<-part 5

series masterlist

taglist: @mirinaeii @taetaecatboy @tsukiesimp @lovingkoalaface @taekrve @jaytheatiny @loverofannabeth @jaerisdiction @whoa-jo @parkinglot-nights @reneeblack6230 @rrosiitas @shellyyy177 @majesticjung-97

[enderlovez]

On Thin Ice

Spencer Reid x Chubby Reader WORD COUNT: 1300+

Summary: After a particularly grueling case, the weight of your insecurities catches up with you. Despite years of toughening yourself against judgment, an unexpected moment of self-doubt has you questioning everything—until Spencer reminds you of your worth.

Content Warning: body image issues, insecurity and self doubt, emotional vulnerability, mentions of childhood bullying, Spencer is a sweetheart, metaphors about falling through ice

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

You've always been the fat kid.

The one picked last for teams in gym class. The one who endured sidelong glances at lunch when you grabbed a second slice of pizza, even though everyone else was already on their third. The one people were dared to ask out during games of truth or dare.

The one whose confidence had to be built like a fortress over the years of relentless judgement, brick by painstaking brick. You'd grown used to the torment over the years—or so you thought.

The things you've seen in this job are enough to shatter most people—dead bodies and grieving familiar and the kind of darkness that crawls under your skin and refuses to leave.

You've stood on the edge of danger more times than you care to count, facing down killers without so much as flinching, literally been stabbed and shot. None of it breaks you. But tonight, staring at your reflection in the BAU bathroom mirror, you feel like you're crumbling.

Your blouse, which you'd liked when you put it on this morning, now feels all wrong. The fabric stretches across your chest and stomach in ways that make your skin crawl.

It fits—technically—but your brain won't let you believe it. The logical part of you knows it's fine—it fits and it looks good, no one cares. But the voice in your head, the one you've spent years trying to quiet, whispers, Isn't it a little snug?

You press your palms flat against the sink, trying to steady your breathing. Why does this matter? you ask yourself. Why do I care?

You see the worst humanity has to offer every day. You quite literally deal with life and death and unimaginable grief. Your body—how it looks, how it fits into societal expectations—should be the least of your concerns.

And yet, here you are.

Maybe part of the reason everything feels to terrible tonight is because of him—Spencer. He's been talking to you heaps more lately, and though it really should make you feel better, it only deepens whatever this insecure feeling inside you is.

The way he moves, the way he talks, the way his beautiful mind works—everything about him fascinates you, and you've been harboring this ridiculous, all-consuming crush for months.

But no matter how much you try to push it down, it always creeps back in, and with it comes the certainty that you're not his type. How could you be? He's brilliant and kind and effortlessly charming in his own unique way, and you're... you. Soft in all the undesirable places, sometimes a little too loud for even yourself.

It's not that you don't think you're worth something, but when you're next to him, it's hard not to feel like you fade into the background. And you've been next to him a lot more than usual.

The mirror reflects your frown back at you, the tightness in your chest growing until it feels like you might snap. You splash cold water on your face, hoping the shock will pull you out of your spiral.

It doesn't, but you can pretend it does.

The bullpen is quiet when you step back into it, the hum of computers and the rustle of papers the only sounds. Most of the team has gone home for the night, except for Spencer.

You find him in the kitchenette, his tall frame bent awkwardly as he wrestles with the ancient coffee maker.

He glances up as you walk in, his expression softening when he sees you. "Couldn't sleep?"

Right—you were going to nap somewhere before getting back to work before you detoured to the bathroom.

You shrug, leaning against the counter. "Something like that."

Spencer nods, his focus shifting back to the coffee pot. "I think this machine predates the invention of modern technology," he mutters, earning a faint smile from you. He pours two mugs of coffee and hands one to you, his finger brushing your briefly.

"Thanks," you say, your voice quieter than you intended.

For a while, the two of you drink in silence, no words shared. None are needed. It's comforting, standing next to him in the soft glow of the kitchenette light. For a moment, you almost almost feel normal in your own skin. Like everyone else.

Except Spencer has always been too perceptive (especially when it comes to you, but you don't need to know that), and you can feel his gaze periodically flicking toward you, studying your face.

"You know," he says eventually, "it's okay to feel overwhelmed. You don't have to hold it together all the time, not when you're... in this particular profession."

The comment catches you off guard, and you look at him sharply. His expression is calm, his tone heartbreakingly gentle, but the words hit a nerve. You force a laugh, trying to deflect. "I'm fine, Spencer. Just tired is all."

He doesn't buy it. Of course, he doesn't. This is Spencer Reid, profiler extraordinaire, the man who can read you like an open book even when you think you're being subtle.

"Are you?" he asks, tilting his head slightly. His voice is soft, but there's an unfamiliar firmness to it that makes you pause.

You want to brush him off, to keep the walls you've built around yourself firmly in place. But the words slip out before you can stop them—apparently your subconscious is desperate to get it out.

"I don't know," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's just that sometimes I feel like... I don't know, like I don't belong here. Like I'm walking on thin ice, and any second it's going to crack, and I'm going to fall through."

Spencer's brows knit together, and he sets his mug down on the counter. "Why would you feel like that?"

You hesitate, the familiar shame and embarrassment bubbling up in your chest. "Because I've always been the... the fat one, okay? The one people look at and judge before they even know my name. I should be used to it by now. I am used to it, but sometimes..."

You trail off, swallowing hard.

"Sometimes it just gets to me, and I hate that it does, because it's so stupid. There are so many bigger things to worry about than how I look. People are actually dying out there, and I'm sitting here worried about my stupid blouse being too tight..."

Spencer step closer, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you wonder if you've said too much, if he thinks you're being ridiculous. But then he speaks, and his voice is steady, full of quiet conviction.

"It's not stupid. What you're feeling is valid," he says. "And you're not 'the fat one.' You're you—intelligent and compassionate and one of the strongest people I've ever met. The way you connect with people and make them feel seen, even in the darkest moments of their life—that's not something everyone can do. That's you."

The words hit you like a wave, the sincerity in his tone making your throat tighten. You look down at your coffee, unable to meet his eyes.

"You don't have to say that just to make me feel better," you mumble.

"I'm not just saying it to make you feel better," he replies. "I mean it."

He hesitates for a moment before reaching out, his hand hovering near yours. When you don't pull away—you don't think you could ever make yourself pull away from Spencer—he rests it gently on top of yours. The warmth of his touch is grounding, and for the first time all night, you feel like you can breathe again.

"Thin ice can hold more weight than you think," he says quietly. "And even if it does crack, you won't fall. I'll make sure of it."

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, and you think them away quickly. "Thank you, Spencer," you say, your voice thick with emotion.

"Anytime." He smiles, the kind of smile that feels like sunlight breaking through the clouds. "And for the record, I think you're beautiful."

Your heart does a little flip, your face warming. Maybe one day you can tell him how you feel, how desperately in love you are with him.

Baby steps.

[anavilante]

@caterina07121 The flak-happy moment is one of my absolute favorite moments in this film. I could talk about it for hours. What Bucky did there is something that is highly condemned in the military community by higher command. Relating this to Harding, for example, a lower-ranking officer has no right to speak to you like that during wartime. You're the boss, and you’re supposed to be an authority figure for these guys, an authority so strong that you can send them to their deaths, and they’ll accept it with understanding. That’s why your authority must be unshakable and inviolable.

But Bucky had this confrontation with him not one-on-one about a specific disagreement—he did it deliberately, publicly, demonstratively in front of the other guys. Honestly, he should have gotten into serious trouble for that stunt… but Harding doesn’t punish him. Because in reality, Bucky in that moment is flak-happy—he’s reckless and beyond caring about his personal safety. Harding should punish him, but he doesn’t, because this guy is out there flying and directly experiencing the horrors himself in the sky, while Harding remains on the ground. And this says a lot about Harding as a commander.

And then there’s Gale’s reaction in that moment, it’s so interesting how he looks at John, warningly, almost pleading with him to stop, yet does nothing. Because this isn’t their fun, friendly banter where Bucky allows Gale to rein him in.

No, this is a confrontation with the boss, and Gale just quietly stands there, capable only of glancing at John, sending signals that it’s better to shut up, but still not intervening in the conflict.

By the way, pay attention to how heavily Gale is breathing ⬆, how emotionally involved he is in this scene, even though he’s standing off to the side, trying to fool everyone with his poker face. He’s scared that John will face serious punishment for his outburst, and at the same time, he’s powerless to do anything about it.

This scene is so primal it makes me want to howl. One day, I’ll draw parallels with animals in it.

And after everything is over, Gale doesn’t lash out at Bucky, doesn’t smack him on the forehead with a “You idiot, what were you thinking?!” Quite the opposite, actually. He gently and subtly tries to distract Bucky, to soften his aggressive mood.

This scene is truly a masterpiece.

And I haven’t even mentioned how brilliantly it’s shot. There’s the foreground with John and Harding, the background with the other pilots, and then Gale, who doesn’t belong to either the foreground or the background - he holds his own unique space in the middle. The cinematography here is absolutely magical.✨

Masters of the Air - Season 1 Episode 4

[therealitiestraveler]

How I manifested my cat, my glow up, being accepted in my desired university, my best friend and friend group, a gym being built next to where I live

Initial note: My blog is mostly about reality shifting, but I also have my share of experiences with manifestation, so here is this post, I hope that this post can help and motivate you guys.

This is a long one so keep this one to read when you have time, good reading guys.

Contents

Method I used

My results

Context: At the time I wanted to manifest all this I was finishing highschool and in my country we have exams that we have to pass in order to be accepted in university and I was studying in the summer for those exams.

In that same year I was also highly focused on learning about manifestation. Initially I found subliminals and my first move was try them, they worked and then my first thought was “okay, this works, why does this work?” and then I went into the rabbit hole of manifestation and how reality works with the goal of understanding it, this from a metaphysical and spiritual perspective (I also had some background from my practice with witchcraft).

Around that time I heard a lot about law of assumption, so I decided to put that into practice, in the future I am planning to make a post explaining, or in other words, simplifying the law of assumption in simple terms + why it works (more often than not I found that, even though it is not necessary to understand it for it to work, when I understand the why’s it makes it easier for me to be confident with my manifestations and confidence can be quite important in manifestations).

At this time in my life I had recently discovered notion (organization app) and I was using it to organize my life, at the time I created a page for those specific manifestations and I started to write them down as if I already had them, it was something like this:

I am [insert description of my appearance]

I have a cat, that cat is [insert description of cat] and they are [insert cat personality]

I have been accepted in [insert university name] and I am currently studying there

I have my best friend, my best friend is [insert personality traits]

My friend group has [insert amount of people] and they are [insert people personality] my friend group is [insert friend group dynamic]

Etc. (you guys understand the concept)

I wrote that and after that I almost forgot about it, I ended up detaching from it in a way, mostly because I was busy at the time with my studies and with managing my social and academic life, now years later I realized that I ended up putting the law of detachment into action without being aware of it. I didn't think about it again, until my second year of college were I was reorganizing my notion for the new academic year and much to my surprise I found that page in deepest parts of my notion and I got even more surprised to find out that basically everything went according to what I wrote, basically everything because i’m gonna explain how it worked out in the end in the next part of this post.

Results

Cat: Ever since I was younger, I had always wanted a cat. However, my family didn’t want any pets, so it was almost a lost cause, yet I gave it a try. When I described my pet affirming that I had it, I actually described two cats, an orange cat and a white cat. I did this in summer, and my precious cat appeared in my house in early April of the next year.

He simply popped up on the front side of my house and decided he was gonna there, he was quite small at the time, probably he had been born in the previous months, he also was quite skinny and seemed to not be doing well, probably because he was young and a stray and was still trying to figure is own way in the world and trying to survive on the streets. So I slowly started to take care of him, he was already basically living in the garden of my house so it was easier for me at the time.

Over the course of time he eventually stayed there and got bolder, at some point he started to get inside the house and be with us. Later after my cat had been around I discovered that my family had tried to lead the cat away by guiding him away on the street by playing traces of food on the way and also tried to move him to other streets on my neighborhood, all of this while I was away in classes so that I wouldn't know (yes, I’m still bitter about it but anyways) however they were always unsuccessful, because as soon as they arrived back at home the cat was already there again, most of the times before them (I love my silly loyal little cat). So eventually they gave up, we took the cat to the veterinary and took care of everything and ever since then my cat has been with me.

And I can confidently say and my family often jokes that my cat presence was fate, because despite their failed attempts the cat decided that he was gonna stay here, apparently i’ve also became his favourite human, because out of everyone he spends more time with me and in my space, and gets along better with me than with anyone else in my family (I think that he’s still bitter with them too, understandable, I am too).

Remember that previously I said that the cats I wrote down were one orange and one white? Well that’s actually quite funny because my cat is orange and white.

Glow up: I described in detail and I have to confess the changes have been almost insane. I only noticed it because I went this year to more social activities because I finally had free time and most of the comments I received from people were about how much I’ve changed and my sudden glow up, and that lead me to actually search for pictures from the time I wrote that and I indeed noticed some major changes.

Some of these changes were a visible weight loss, more muscle mass, my hair is a lot more healthier, my metabolism is a lot faster now, my skin is a lot more healthy and clean, and something about my face that I can’t quite put into words also is a lot more different in a way that I am extremely grateful. I was surprised looking back at photos of me at the time I wrote it and the way I look now.

University acceptance: At the time I was choosing my university course I was concerned because I was applying for a course with not many university vacancies in my country, at least not many close to where I live and I knew I wanted to study in college but still be at home.

So I wrote it next to my manifestations there and guess what? That same day I went to apply for my desired university, I went to the secretary of the university to give my information and I gave them the documents we usually have to give, and on that same moment I was accepted into that university!! The happiness and disbelief I experienced that day was unimaginable and every day I am thankful for that, I literally stared at the man that was attending me for a couple of seconds that moment blinking as I processed the information and the man confused repeated himself again and I snapped out of it accepting it as a reality and proceed with the process, my reaction was as comical as it sounds.

Best friend and my friend group: When I was scripting my best friend and friend group I described them using typology (personality systems, one example of a typology system on the topic of personality would be for example mbti), and years later I’ve realized that indeed all the people in my friend group (the main one and the one where we hang out together the moat) have the exact typology I wrote that time.

I also met all of them in university as I planned too and the dynamic is also like I described and I am eternally thankful to have a friend group with the people I have.

Gym: The gym being built next to where I live (10 minutes away in walking distance if I am walking slow), I’ve always been physically active, however I never actually went to a gym because there weren’t that many close to where I live and with my lifestyle I have I would end up losing a lot of time on my way to the closest ones and I just couldn’t waste that time.

So imagine my surprise when less than a year after I’ve written those manifestations I happen to receive the news that people are building a gym less than 10 minutes away from my house? Nowadays it is already built and I often go there. This is the moment where I tell people that are often stressed to contemplate going to the gym or working out, it does magical wonders for one’s mood.

That’s all guys foe this post guys, I hope that this post is useful and motivates people, I always try to share some more details because it might help people get motivated and it can also be quite funny sometimes.

Good shifting and good manifestations everyone!!

[saintzweig]

depraved thoughts heavy on the mind and i need to let them out. living with patrick as your boyfriend, but its that time of the month. you're having an especially bad period, walking around your and patrick's shared apartment free bleeding in a pair of his boxers, and lounging around on the couch wearing his shirts and sweatshirts. you're sluggish, tired, depressed. and patrick just wants to make you feel better, and he fingers you, blood all over his hands and it looks like a crime scene but he doesn't care, he just wants to make you feel good. (and maybe he secretly likes it... but he's ot sure how to tell you that)

tw blood

you've been having such a shitty day– getting your period exactly on laundry day which meant everything you own was either dirty or uncomfortable, the pantry is empty which meant you had nothing to snack on and your boyfriend was taking way too long to come home from work. needless to say, nothing was working out for you today.

so in an attempt to make yourself feel better, you put on patrick's clothes and curl up on the couch. with a towel underneath you because wearing a tampon feels really icky at the moment and a random cartoon show playing in the background in attempt to stop the ringing in your ears.

by the time patrick got home, you were asleep. and you look the most uncomfortable you've ever looked, your forehead covered with sweat, your eyebrows furrowed and the spot of blood on his boxers that you're wearing.

he drops the bags of grocery on the carpet, kneeling right next to the couch. "sweetheart?" you wake up to his voice and his hand sweeping the hair off your face. "you alright?" and before you can get any word out, you're sobbing. this entire day has been uncomfortable, painful and emotional and you wanted nothing more than for it to go away.

"oh darling" patrick places a gentle kiss on your forehead, his large hand resting on your cheek to wipe your tears away. "come on, why don't we take a bath, hm?"

with a nod, you let him carry you to the bathroom, stripping you off the clothes marked with sweat and blood before placing you down onto the tub. he turns on the faucet before taking his own clothes off and squeezes in behind you. you lay back against him, feeling the warmth of his body comforting yours. he brings his hands up gently to wave the warm water to your body before settling down on your waist. he places pecks of kisses on your nape, making you sigh.

you took your time in the bath, letting your boyfriend scrub your body and massage you all over. "why don't i make you feel better hm?" he kisses the tip of your ear, his scruffy beard tickling you a bit.

"how?" you spoke weakly, feeling the way his chest vibrate as he chuckles deeply.

"you trust me, don't you sweetheart?" with a yes from you, he reaches over with his foot to pull the plug of the tub, letting the water drain out.

he reaches up to cup your breasts with his hands, massaging your tender, sore muscles. you groan in relief, throwing your head back slightly against his shoulder. while one hand remained on your chest, the other slowly danced downwards until you realized what he wanted to do.

you stop him with your hand on his wrist, "pat– i don't want to get you dirty" and he only smirks, "we're in the tub for a reason, darling. and i don't mind getting a little bit of blood on me" in fact, he'd love to see his hands covered in your blood. the idea making his length stiffer behind you.

the pad of his thumb made contact with your clit, making you gasp as your stomach fluttered with anticipation. he rolls his thumb, his ego boosting as he watches you writhe between his legs at the smallest touch. "just relax, i got you, alright?"

he removes his hand from your heat, moving it up until it lands gently on your lips. "open up for me" you let him insert his fingers into your mouth, coating it with your wet warmth. you swirl your tongue around it for good measure, until he takes it out and there's a small string of saliva connecting the two of you.

he didn't waste any time and within seconds, the uncomfortableness subsided and was replaced with pleasure as he inserted his long fingers into your already wet cunt (in more ways than one).

your body stiffens in pleasure against him, your hand wrapped around his one on your chest. he starts pumping faster, his fingers rubbing against your bloody walls sending waves of pleasure throughout your body. "f-fuck, patrick"

he grunts, feeling your back rub against his hard cock. "making you feel better, sweetheart?"

you nod, feeling tears springing into your eyes in pleasure, "feels s-so good, p-pat" you whine as his palm slaps against your clit, arching your back against him. patrick watches the way your blood coats around his fingers more and more as he pumps his fingers, some of it dripping into your thighs.

"look at that, sweetheart" he points out, "making such a mess" he mumbled against your ear, placing wet kisses all over your skin.

you could feel your eyes roll to the back of your head, "baby– fuck! 'm so close" you cry out, squeezing around his fingers.

"come on, sweetheart. you can do it, hm? you can cum for me?" he continues to encourage you through your whines and cries, taking his other hand off you to pump his cock against your back. and within seconds, you're both limp and catching your breath.

he takes a few seconds before sliding his fingers out of you, smirking at how your blood covered pretty much his entire hand. "i look sexy like this, don't i? covered in your blood"

you laugh tiredly, pushing his hand away. "you're disgusting, patrick"

[kiemiu]

𝓒𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄: 𝓢𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫

pairing kang sae-byeok x reader | wc: 1.8k

summary -> the worst day of your life. ( spending a day with your boyfriend ) warnings -> unwanted touch, alcohol consumption.

( beneath the quiet masterlist )

12:16AM

𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 Sunday with your boyfriend was considerably the last thing you wanted to waste your day on. The tension between the two of you never subsided, even as the both of you texted each other every once in a while out of pure boredom, the conversation always stale and ending abruptly, ruining your mood for the remainder of the day. At some point you had stopped trying to mend the cracks in your relationship, sick of the way he treated you, as well as the way he lacked any respect for the boundaries you set in place.

Speaking of boundaries being crossed, he showed up at your apartment unannounced, the sharp pounding of his fists against the door and insistent ringing of the doorbell waking you up at 8AM sharp. The annoyance you felt as you stared at the ceiling like no other, whispering apologies to your alarm clock for ever calling it the most unbearable thing in the world in your moments of crankiness.

His intrusion of your space gave you no time to gather yourself, there was no transition from sleep into the reality of yet another exhausting day, the next one always more tiring than the last.

Him greeting you with rough kiss on the lips, From the very start it felt like an obligation rather than a date. Bringing his own set of clothes he wanted you to wear, a skirt too short, with a blouse too revealing. Calling your clothes boring, mentioning how much of an "upgrade" this was before dragged you along, feeding you an empty promise of today being the “Perfect Day”. And as much as you wanted to believe him, you couldn't. Noticing how every detail, every choice he made, was tailored to his preferences, without a care of what you wanted. Everything was always for him, from the stores you shopped at, to the food places you stopped to get something to eat.

Deciding to bring you to a café, one that you had once enjoyed but now resented. The rich aroma of coffee beans, once a comforting scent to ease your mornings, now twisted and churned your stomach uncomfortably, the smells overwhelming and making your head spin. You had told him weeks ago about your newfound aversion to coffee, wanting nothing to do with it unless it had to do with work. But as with most things, your vocal discomfort seemed inconsequential to him, always brushing it off with a "What about me and what I like?" even though it's always about him and what he likes.

Now you sat miserable at a bustling Café in an outfit you didn't like, across from a man you hated.

He at least had half the heart to ask you questions in a way that feigned interest, but it was undeniable how much he didn't actually care, the way his gaze always flickered elsewhere before you could even finish answering. His eyes shamelessly trailing up and down women that passed by, the smallest things pulling his focus away from you, leaving you feeling like an afterthought. Your words, spoken with less and less conviction, and your sentences falling shorter and shorter until they were simple hums. It didn't matter as you became mere background noise to his wandering attention.

At your silence it didn't take long for him to launch into yet another self-absorbed monologue, recounting his recent trip with an air of arrogance. His tales of all the “amazing” things he’d done during his three months away felt more like boasts than conversations, especially when he'd compare your last three months to his with the usual hint of arrogance. His sentences soon falling on deaf ears as you tuned him out, doing the thing you just judged him of your gaze now wandered around the café in search of anything to anchor your restless thoughts and cure your boredom—until your eyes landed on her.

Sae-Byeok stood by the pickup counter, her hands buried deep in the pockets of her oversized worn jacket. Her gaze, sharp and steady, already watching you with a familiarity that left you frozen. Everything around you—the hum of the café, your boyfriend’s incessant chatter—faded into a muffled blur as you kept your eyes focused on her. She didn’t look away, and neither could you, almost as if you were stuck in a trance from her usual analyzing gaze. Her presence somehow becoming something you missed even with how fleeting it was.

And It wasn’t until her name was called that she tore her eyes away from you, reluctantly turning to grab her order from the counter. Even as she looked away your gaze remained reliant on her figure, still staring until the insistent snapping from your boyfriend's fingers in front of your face, pulled you back into reality. A soft gasp, escaping your lips as you blinked rapidly, trying to force your eyes to focus back on him.

“Are you even listening to me?" He sharply asked, his hands now gripping the side of the table. "It’s like you’re half-dead,” he added, irritation thick in his voice as he sat back in his chair with a huff. His head suddenly turning to try and follow your gaze. “Who are you looking at anyway, hm?”

You opened your mouth, only a pathetic breath of air able to come about before you mumbled out a weak. “No one. I—I was just… thinking.” your tone shaky, unsure, and unconvincing.

He didn’t buy it, he never did. His judging gaze lingering on you long after your excuse. But before he could press further and catch onto who you actually were looking at, Sae-Byeok was gone. Flipping her hood over her head as she stepped outside, covering herself from the light drizzle outside. Even after being called out with his eyes still burning into you, you couldn't help but watch her one last time. Freezing at the glance she threw your way through the window, her expression unreadable as she disappeared into the street. At least you were happy to see her.

With an annoyed sigh followed by angry grumbles, your boyfriend waved over the waiter, demanding the check with the kind of dismissiveness that left a bitter taste in your mouth and a cloud of embarrassment hung over you at his disrespectfulness. Sitting in front of him left you wondering why you had ever gotten together with him in the first place.

Waiting for the check in silence and being dragged to the car was something you wished to never experience again, the weight of what his next words or actions might be left you jumbled with nerves. And as if things couldn't get worse, the ride home only revealed how he knew nothing about you.

"The fuck is your problem, huh?" was the first thing that met your ears. You shrugged all of his pointed comments and aggressive jabs off, mumbling quietly as you fiddled with the rings on your fingers. None of his comments or questions were meant to actually find out "what was wrong with you" they were just mindless jabs at your supposed “coldness.”

You stayed still as ever when he turned towards you, seeing out of the corner of your eye the rise of a slow smirk making its way onto his face. "I know what this is about." he quietly mutters, his voice dropping down an octave making the hair on your neck stand up.

"You do?" you question, with raised eyebrows, eyebrows moving but the rest of your body remaining frozen as a soft hum fell from his lips.

"You just missed me."

You had to fight your eyes from rolling, of course he didn't fucking know.

One of his hands softly landed on the skin of your knee, his fingers creeping upward to your thigh, his fingers roughly kneading the skin of your thigh as he slowly pushed the hem of your skirt higher. Your stomach twisted in revulsion at the feeling of his touch, something that once excited you and filled you with butterflies repulsed you and filled you with dread and without thinking, you grabbed his hand, throwing it off of your lap while simultaneously pressing your figure as far as you possibly could into the car door, the cold window a welcoming feeling.

At the feeling of you throwing his hand off of you and the look of disgust that clouded your features, his grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles white as he snapped at you, “Is this really how you treat your fucking boyfriend who's been gone for three god damn months?”

You didn’t argue, you simply didn’t have the energy. Staring out the window, you muttered out with a sigh, “I’m just tired,” hoping the words would be enough to end the conversation. You couldn't put it into words, becoming so emotionally checked out that any type of conversation with him would be pure torture.

But they weren’t. His voice sharpened paired with a deep grumble, his next words dripped with venom. “If you’re not gonna fuck me, what are you good for?”

The silence that followed was deafening. The weight of his words settled over you like a shroud, suffocating and inescapable and by the time he pulled into your driveway, tears blurred your vision. He slammed the car door on his way out, leaving you behind in the quiet of the car and his absence. Something that should've brought you peace was instead suffocating and left you humiliated.

Through the cracked window of the car, you caught the faint, acrid smell of his cigarette smoke, the orange glow of the streetlamp casting against his silhouette that showed him leaning against the hood of the car, now on his phone as if he didn't just say the words that would haunt you throughout the rest of the night.

You didn’t wait for him to return. Gathering what little strength you had left, you trudged into your apartment and shut the door firmly behind you, locking out the night—as well as him. Walking to your room, you peeled off the day like a second skin, washing your face and changing into something soft, comfortable, and familiar. But the tears came harder once you were alone, the events of the day replaying in your mind like a cruel montage. You crawled into bed and pulled the covers over your head, trying to drown out the world. It was a bit ironic how the appearance of someone you knew so little of became the best part of your day.

Going to bed with one person on your mind, leaving the brunt of the day and your boyfriend behind.

Only to be woken hours later to the stench of alcohol and the unsteady shuffle of footsteps. Lifting yourself up to watch him drunkenly stumble into the room, a jumble of slurred apologies escaping his mouth, all stained with insincerity. Grumbles of "I'm sorry, baby." leaving his lips as he sloppily kissed you on the cheek.

You didn’t respond. You didn’t move, you nearly couldn't. Staring at the ceiling, you let his muttered words fade into nothingness and as he collapsed into bed beside you, all you could think about was how little you missed him.

I can't live like this.

' 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ' 📷 : @miabcuzz @twicesuuui @kissyslut @kritkalhit @st4rcs @dumbbellxo @theforestchoseme3 @wlvlurvsfimmia @genshinenjoyer @theweirdanimation @ch-3-rry @nenukkjhj @giaqnn @crack240 @pookalicious-hq @laurenkenss @sheinhamood @pooksterrr @bbynai @diorzs @beaaluv @colorfulkittenperfection @yourl0caltrash @kidicaruslover911 @sherryuki-callmeyuki @i0nic02 @knfthxv @mina-has-been-here @monroesturnns

[nowimjustastranger]

Hey there! New question: What would stcmo!Ford's reaction to "The Better World" be? And what do you think of BW!Stanley's situation? The most common consensus is that he died in some way or another, either by Bill's, Rico's, or his own hand (I'm under the belief that it was most likely himself or Bill, or a mixture of both) so how would stcmo!Ford handle it? I'm curious if Lee would also be involved since BW!Ford and BW!Stan are pretty far away from each other.

(Bonus points if Bill is tormenting BW!Stan in order to get the journal)

Literally had to look this up because I have no idea what this "Better World" dimension is, lol. The general consensus is that it's not what it seems, and there's some sketchy shit going on in the background. Which I agree with considering the staggering amount of evidence.

@frogemeat I'm flattered that I could inspire you to write!

Ford 419"3 would likely only come into contact with Stan, seeing as his main focus is ensuring the survival of the Stan and the eventual happy ending that Stans deserve. But, as soon as he saw that Stan had the first Journal, he'd be furious on Stan's behalf. How dare Stanford make Stan shoulder this burden? Stanford did the most unforgivable thing in Ford's eyes, damning Stan to a life of suffering and torment while Stanford got everything he ever wanted at the expense of his brother.

This is definitely a Stan that Ford would relocate. He'd bring the journal back to Stanford, of course. He's petty enough to just leave it in Stanford's house with a cryptic note. Ford wouldn't even bother to test Stanford, who has already made his stance clear in Ford's eyes. Stan would be so worn down and hopeless that he'd just let Ford take him.

He's tired of running from the thugs that Bill sends after him. Tired of hearing Bill's voice in his head, whispering promises of fame and fortune. Tired of seeing Bill in his dreams, enduring torture beyond his imagination. He just wants it to stop. He'd cry when Ford took the journal from him, feeling like a failure for being unable to do the one thing his brother asked of him and hating himself for how relieved he was that he wasn't the keeper of that godforsaken journal anymore.

Ford would take Stan to his dimension because Bill couldn't reach him there due to the unicorn hair force field. Stan could finally rest and recover properly with Lee and Fiddleford helping Ford look after Stan. Once Stan had recovered both physically and mentally, Ford would bring him to meet the Stanford that he'd be paired with. In this case, Ford would make sure that the two dimensions couldn't be any more different. The Stanford would be nervous but warm and welcoming, eager to get to know this sad and tired version of the brother that he had lost.

Stan would stay in Ford's dimension for a few weeks after the first meeting, making sure Stan was comfortable with the new Stanford with frequent visits. Eventually, Stan would start spending more time with Stanford than in dimension 419"3 with Ford, the transition seamless. Though Ford would visit Stan occasionally, checking in on him to make sure everything was going smoothly. Seeing Stan smile for the first time would be like a physical blow, laughing and joking around with his Stanford.

Each time Ford sees a Stan getting the life he deserves, it reminds Ford that he is making a difference. Even if it is one Stan at a time.

[itshonestlynotme]

✮⋆˙ 𝙿𝚊𝚞𝚕'𝚜 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 .ᐟ

╰┈➤ 𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, Paul Atreides gets baby fever and pesters his beloved wife into having one

⊹₊⟡⋆ 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟽𝟾𝟷 ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

⊹₊⟡⋆ 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚎: 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏 ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

The desert winds howled against the walls of their quarters, a steady rhythm that had become background music to Y/N's life. She was seated at their low table, sorting through a collection of reports from the sietch leaders. Across from her, Paul Atreides lounged on a cushion, his chin resting in his hand as he stared at her. She glanced up, feeling his gaze. “What?”

“You’d look good with a baby in your arms,” Paul said, his tone casual, as though he were commenting on the weather.

Y/N froze mid-scroll, lifting an incredulous brow. “Excuse me?”

“A baby,” Paul repeated, his blue-within-blue eyes alight with something far too mischievous for her liking. “Our baby.”

She let out a laugh, shaking her head. “Paul, we’re fighting off assassination attempts, managing alliances, and trying to ensure Arrakis doesn’t collapse into chaos. And you want to talk about babies?”

“Yes,” he said simply, sitting up straighter. “Think about it, Y/N. A child of ours—someone to carry on what we’re building. Someone who could bring joy to the sietch, and to us.”

“Joy?” she repeated, her tone dry. “More like sleepless nights and endless crying.”

Paul grinned, undeterred. “It’s not all like that. Imagine teaching them about the desert, watching them grow, seeing the world through their eyes.”

Y/N sighed, setting the reports aside. “You’re serious about this?”

“As serious as I’ve ever been,” Paul replied, leaning forward, his gaze locking with hers. “We’ve fought so hard, Y/N. We deserve to have something of our own, something that’s not tied to prophecy or politics.”

She studied him, trying to gauge if this was another one of his intense whims. But the way he spoke, the way his voice softened as he described their potential future—it was clear he’d been thinking about this for a while.

“Paul, our lives aren’t exactly stable,” she said gently. “Bringing a child into this... it’s a risk.”

“I know,” he admitted. “But everything we do is a risk. At least this one would be for us, not for the throne or the Fremen or anyone else.”

Y/N tilted her head, lips twitching into a small smile. “You’ve really thought about this, haven’t you?”

“Every day,” he confessed. “Especially when I see the children in the sietch. They remind me of what’s possible, even in the harshest conditions. We could give that to a child—love, guidance, and a future worth fighting for.”

She leaned back, crossing her arms. “You’re romanticizing it. Babies are hard work, Paul. And you’re not exactly known for having free time.”

“That’s why we’d do it together,” he countered, his voice filled with conviction. “I know it won’t be easy, but nothing in our lives is. That’s never stopped us before.”

Y/N was silent for a moment, letting his words sink in. She couldn’t deny the warmth spreading in her chest at the thought of a child—a little piece of her and Paul, growing and thriving amidst the chaos. But practicality had always been her guiding force.

“Let me think about it,” she said finally, her tone measured.

Paul’s face lit up, his grin wide and boyish. “That’s not a no.”

“No, it’s not,” she agreed, shaking her head at his enthusiasm.

Over the next few weeks, Paul didn’t let the subject drop. He found ways to weave it into their conversations, whether they were discussing strategy or simply sharing quiet moments together. He’d point out how Y/N’s nurturing nature would make her a wonderful mother or muse aloud about what their child might be like.

One evening, as they walked through the sietch, Paul stopped to watch a group of children playing in the sand. Y/N followed his gaze, her heart softening as she saw the way his expression shifted—hopeful, almost wistful.

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” she asked, nudging him gently.

“Not a chance,” he replied, his voice warm. “But only because I know you’d be an amazing mother, Y/N. And because I can’t imagine anyone else I’d want to raise a family with.”

She sighed, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

“I’ve been called worse,” he teased.

That night, as they lay together under the dim glow of the desert moonlight, Y/N finally spoke the words she knew Paul had been waiting to hear.

“Fine,” she murmured, her voice soft but steady. “Let’s do it. Let’s have a child.”

Paul’s arms tightened around her, his breath hitching in surprise. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” she said, turning to meet his gaze. “But you’re changing diapers.”

He laughed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Deal.”

[bullet-prooflove]

5500 Follower Celebration: Tears of Pearl - Eliot Spencer x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @madisonbroxson1 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog  @readings-to-share  @sameenbyhat

Companion piece to:

Star - Eliot realises he's made a terrible mistake.

The Worst Thing - There's only two people that know the worst thing Eliot has ever done.

You’re wearing pearls,  Tahitian black pearls to be exact.

 It’s the first thing Eliot notices because it’s an unusual choice for a woman of your calibre. You society girls usually prefer diamonds, the bigger the better. That’s the first indication you’re not like the others, it’s not the last.

He spends a year getting to know you as your personal protection specialist. You hate the fact you have a bodyguard but he was hired by your fiancé Moreau after threats have been made by some of the people he’s pissed off.

“I can’t have anything happening to my investment.” He tells Eliot as he sits across from him at a desk that costs more than most homes these days. “This marriage opens up a lot of doors for me, gives me connections I wouldn’t have access to.”

“What does her father get out of it?” He’d asked as he flicked through your dossier.

“A cash injection into some of his more problematic businesses.” He’d said as he lounged back in his chair. “He can’t stand the shame of failing.”

You are everything that Eliot does not expect from someone whose a daughter in one of the founding families. He sees the work you do with those charities, the way you immerse yourself in it as if you’re trying to make up for the sins of those that came before you. You’re not content with cutting a cheque, you need to be involved and not in the public shit either, the stuff that would get you recognition, but the grassroots stuff. Teaching kids to read, sitting with the elderly who have no families and then there’s the homeless, the people who don’t have a voice.

The first time you sit down next to a veteran in the street Eliot almost hurls you right back up because you, you don’t seem to understand the risk that comes with being with Moreau. The fact the people who are trying to hurt him will use you to do it.

“Let me take five minutes to share a coffee and a sandwich with my new friend Joe.” You negotiate and he reluctantly agrees.

It’s not five minutes, it’s thirty because Joe, he’s non-threatening and watching you interact with him it’s fascinating. You don’t act like other people, you don’t talk over him, try to give him advice, you just listen and to a guy like Joe whose spent years being in the background, ignored, it’s overwhelming, which is why you take his hand when he gets a little upset, clasping it tightly in your own. He understands in that moment that you’re lonely, that you probably have been for a long time.

When you do come away Eliot’s silent because he isn’t sure how to articulate this new knowledge. It’s only when you get to the car that he notices your pearl necklace is gone, that you must have placed it into Joe’s cup.

“You gonna keep giving away all your jewellery like that?” He asks you, his gaze flickering up to meet yours as he watches you in the rearview mirror.

“They’re just things.” You say distractedly, looking out of the window. “Things that could help other people who actually need it.”

That’s when Eliot realises how trapped you are in this world, it’s a gilded cage you were born into, not one that you want. When he looks back he knows that that’s the moment that things changed between the two of you, he saw you for you, not the role that Moreau had crafted for you.

Six months down the line, you’re wearing a different set of pearls, a more expensive set and Eliot’s tearing them from your throat, breaking the strands because you’re in the midst of a panic attack and the damn things are practically padlocked around your neck with a gold clasp that can only be undone with a key. The pearls scatter across the floor, rolling in all directions and that lock, he throws it out the window in disgust.

It’s another Moreau special. A collar to remind you who you belong to because he saw you talking to another man at a charity event, one that had paid you a little too much attention. He doesn’t know that Eliot spends most nights in your bed, that he makes love to you in the shower before he puts on his suit and pretends he’s been in his own room all along.

“I don’t want to marry him.” You sob as Eliot uses his thumb to chase away the tears that leak down your cheeks. He despises the kind of man that can do this to you, that steals away your autonomy, that tries to stamp out all the goodness in your soul.

“You don’t have to.” He whispers, his forehead coming to rest against yours as he looks into your eyes. “I’ll find a way to get you out of this. I promise you I will.”

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[therealmistressmidnight]

Disconnected Desires: The Struggle of Intimacy with ADHD

Intimacy is often painted as this magical, deeply connecting experience, but for someone with ADHD, it can feel anything but simple. One of the hardest things to explain is the constant battle between wanting to be present and the brain’s refusal to cooperate. It’s not that I don’t care or don’t want the connection—it’s that my mind seems determined to pull me away at the worst moments.

The Mental Struggle

Imagine this: you’re in a tender, intimate moment with your partner, and instead of melting into it, your brain starts throwing distractions at you like darts. Did I leave the stove on? Is that laundry still sitting in the washer? What am I even supposed to feel right now? It’s not just frustrating—it’s heartbreaking.

Sometimes, I can’t even pinpoint what pulls me out of the moment. It’s like my brain builds a wall between me and the connection I desperately want to feel. And the more I try to fight it, the stronger the disconnect becomes.

The Emotional Disconnect

The detachment isn’t just mental—it’s emotional, too. There are moments where I feel like I’m floating just outside my body, watching myself go through the motions. It’s not because I don’t love my partner or find them attractive. In fact, I feel the opposite—I want to connect so badly, but it’s like my emotions are on a delay.

Then there’s the shame. It’s so easy to spiral into guilt, wondering if my partner thinks I’m not invested or if they’re somehow to blame. That internal dialogue is a constant companion during these moments, which only makes it harder to pull myself back.

Sensory Overload

On top of everything else, there’s the issue of sensory overload. A light touch that should feel gentle might suddenly make my skin crawl. Background noises that should be easy to ignore become overwhelming. The heat of a hand on my body might feel suffocating instead of comforting.

It’s like my senses are on high alert, ready to pick apart every sensation until I can’t focus on anything but the discomfort. And once that happens, the intimacy is gone.

The Isolation of It All

What makes this struggle even harder is how isolating it feels. Intimacy is supposed to bring people closer, but ADHD often makes me feel like I’m on an island, completely disconnected from my partner.

It’s difficult to explain to someone who doesn’t experience it. How do you tell the person you love that you’re struggling to stay present when they’re being so vulnerable and open with you? How do you admit that, in the middle of such a tender moment, your brain is doing anything but cooperating?

When the Struggles Win

There are times when the struggle is too much, and I just want to give up. It’s exhausting to feel like I’m fighting my own mind every time I try to connect. And even though I know my partner is patient and understanding, it doesn’t stop the guilt from creeping in.

It’s not easy to talk about these struggles, and even harder to live with them. Intimacy should feel like a safe haven, but for someone with ADHD, it often feels like a battlefield.

For those reading this who share these struggles: you’re not alone. And for the partners trying to understand, know that it’s not about you—it’s about how ADHD shapes the way we experience the world, even in the most vulnerable moments.

[qin-qin16]

Murder Time Trio as a poly... or something else

NOTE: This was supposed to be a relationship chart, but I couldn't find any that I liked, and I got frustrated trying to make one, SO I decided to do it in the form of text and headcanons and is slighty ooc because i can’t write them realistic, its against my policy

Before I elaborate on my thoughts about Murder Time Trio poly, I will present to you a summary of the BACKGROUND that I will use for my upcoming discussions about this trio.

In this post I share a bit about that thought and there is this au created by @what-have-i-unleashed named Mermaid Bunny AU, you can find it on their pinned post (is focused on kist in some parts, read the warnings before reading!)

However, since that post I made was more focused on Killer, I will also comment on the other parts of this relationship below!!

NOTE²: To avoid confusion, the first Killer will be called Kei (as a way to start fresh, he chose to abandon the name given to him after his code was altered), while the second Killer will simply be called Killer, as he has neither the desire nor the order to change the title given to him – a title his best friend, his partner, gave him. That being said, let’s move on to their background

HORROR'S ARRIVAL

Horror was the second to arrive, dragged by the slimy tentacles against his will – Kei vaguely remembers hearing his screams calling for someone, spitting threats at Nightmare as if he had no fear for his own life. He didn’t even notice his soul subtly writhing when Nightmare did nothing but toss the skeleton at his feet. "Show him his new home." Those were the orders he heard, and not even a minute later, they were already walking through the abandoned place (whatever it was, the hallways were too long to be considered part of a house, and the rooms were dark enough to make Horror question the things he saw inside them).

It wasn't for lack of trying that their almost-friendship was created – as fragile as a thin twig. Kei had been ordered to teach Horror everything he knew: what Nightmare liked to hear when they returned from missions, how to act when spotted by any resident of the universe they were exploring, what not to do when the hallways of their home (Kei called that dreadful place home, even though it was worse than the hell Horror said Snowdin was) seemed to grow darker and darker, how to ignore the torn and moldy paintings when they appeared to move in the shadows… Everything Kei had learned, he passed on to Horror, but like a mule being whipped to carry its load, Horror would always stall at the most important moments.

Like the time he screamed to go back home, for Nightmare to throw him back into the deep hole that was his past problems. Kei never heard Horror mention his old home again after that night – at least, not while Horror was conscious; only on nights when he finally fell asleep, so light that even the faintest sound would bring that red orb back to life. Of course, Kei knew this – who else but him would keep an eye on his copy to make sure he didn’t try anything stupid? He had to check and act as the loyal right-hand man he was. It wasn’t as if Horror was the only somewhat safe company for him there, no – he couldn’t allow himself to get attached to someone that he would abandon at the first chance he gets.

But Kei could be a little selfish, couldn’t he? Horror was selfish too when he claimed the least uncomfortable bed would be his when they were traveling, or when he shrugged whenever Kei questioned the disappearance of some witnesses who had seen them lurking too close to AUs near the Omega Timeline. Or when Horror got too close to his body on freezing nights, trembling after hours of walking through the thick snow surrounding their home. “This thing is warm.” He pointed at the circle in front of Kei's chest, seeming to hesitate – or not wanting – to call it a soul.

Kei could be selfish if Horror was the one to blame for making it impossible for him to sleep in separate rooms after that.

MURDER'S ARRIVAL

Horror never thought that a third member would be added to the chaotic and dysfunctional duo that was him and Kei. From what he could hear through the poorly closed and fallen door of the room where Kei and Nightmare often argued about their performance, the boss (even though Horror would never call him that) never mentioned anything about adding another screw-up monster like them to the group.

But it wasn't as if Nightmare cared about their opinion on anything, or even cared about their existence - as long as they stayed alive, that was enough.

Murder's entrance was so different from his, so much more... silent. No sudden movements, no explosion of LV, nothing but incomprehensible murmurs beneath that dark hood. If Horror thought Kei was unpredictable and full of weird traits, Murder had just stolen his place. It wasn't as if Horror was a healthy or sane person either, but Murder was an extreme even for him: clothes covered in monster dust, eyes — when lit — always twitching, looking side to side as if others were in the room besides the three of them.

And it was agonizing to see someone so similar to his former self — when there was no danger around them, or when Murder seemed to finally relax those pale bones, those two little lights would glow in white, in a nostalgic way. Horror didn’t like that feeling. Kei was another one who seemed out of place with Murder’s addition to their little group.

“You’re real…” he murmured between laughs — an almost undistorted reflection of himself.

It was hard to adapt Murder into their already chaotic and unpredictable routine, almost like caging an euphoric animal alongside two others already in captivity — the rare calm of before was quickly torn apart by Murder's trembling and impatient presence. As sadistic as the last one, Kei once commented, referring to Horror, who just scoffed and mumbled something like "don’t compare me to that..." It wasn’t a good start between them, definitely.

And no matter how much Horror tried to deny it and even fight with himself, he wasn’t so different from the other two. Nightmare’s motivation in handpicking each of them was clear — it almost had a bitter kind of charm to it, if it weren’t so inconvenient. At least he and Murder seemed to want to be as far away as possible from there, but Kei? Why was he so loyal to that demon?

Horror never knew Kei’s deep desire to escape that hell, to crush Nightmare’s rotten soul underfoot like an insignificant insect. At least, Kei never confessed it to them specifically. No, no.

"As if I care who you talk to outside of work..." Horror once huffed, sounding strangely genuine. "If you want to chat with that rainbow skeleton, that's your problem, don't drag us into your issues, capiche?" And so Kei did.

Part two is on their way~

[stone-stars]

[ID: A five page comic, centered on Aryox as he has a dream of Melora's future as a goddess. ID in alt text, and full description under the cut.]

@operationslipperypuppet hi alli.

higher than you'd think, apparently! um.... happy hoglidays, merry crickmas, i don't think i've laughed harder than when i saw the little message pop up that said my giftee was you, and i'm sorry for lying to you for a month.

this gift is in two parts. this comic, and the accompanying fic, which i've posted here! i hope you enjoy both, i'm really glad i got to make something about our guys. thank you for being a wonderful friend <3

for the @naddpodgifting exchange!

[ID: A five page comic, centered on Aryox as he has a dream of Melora's future as a goddess. Everything is drawn in bright colored outlines against a black background.

First page. Aryox (in light blue) opens his eyes slowly. Mist cuts across the top of the page behind the panels. The bottom half of the page is frameless, and shows Aryox standing at the base of steps leading up to a large temple, with mist swirling around it. Green vines wrap around the temple, with everything else being drawn in Aryox's blue.

Next page. Aryox walks up the steps of the temple, his hand briefly resting on one of its columns next to a green vine, then snaps his fingers and summons a light which he raises above his head, parting the mist. He stares into the distance, where within the mist a pale green light shines back. Grinning, he remarks "towards the light, then. Morbid." The next sequence shows Aryox walking through the temple, the edges of each panel just the columns of the temple itself. By the second, faint speech bubbles appear in the background. One is unreadable and yellow, and then in the third, as Aryox steps off-panel behind the column, a green text box faintly says "i'm sorry". Aryox stops and turns, saying "hello." Then a yellow (for Telaine) speech bubble appears isolated, reading "So THAT'S how little WE mean to YOU?" Aryox looks shocked, then looks away as his light extinguishes, looking hurt and guilty, and turns away. He marches forward as a green speech bubble (for Melora) echoes behind him: "how could you…"

The entire next page shows Aryox walking, then running through the mist, with speech bubbles and words echoing all around him. They start more spaced out, but by the end of the page crowd and overwhelm him. First, he walks with purpose. A text box in his blue shows that he's thinking "It's alright." The words he hears as he walks forward are: "(Melora) Aryox, don't do this, PLEASE." "(Telaine) I have nothing to say to you" "(Melora) I can't let you--" A closeup of his face is shown, just the bottom half, with his mouth set in a frown. His own voice, in the style of the other echoes, reads "I'm sorry Mel." Then, he starts walking quicker. Behind him is Telaine's speech bubble yelling "If you want my heart, you can do what [scribbled out] did and break it yourself". He walks through Lumi saying "She seems to have inherited Aryox's penchant for cold, calculating actions. They don't make for the best parents. At times, they don't make for the best friends." Melora says "Aryox". Next there are more of Aryox's thoughts: "if I betray them…", followed by a drawing of Telaine (in yellow) and Melora (in green) laughing together, "I have a reason." A speech bubble in gray offsets this, reading "[illegible], I pray to your indifference." Telaine says "Aryox al-- broke our-- pact and--" Finally, Aryox runs through a mass of speech bubbles. One panel overlayed on top of them is a closeup of his eye, staring forward. His thought cuts through them too-- "It's for their sake. For the future. Because I saw--" The speech bubbles are overlapping, and cutting each other off. They are: "(Aryox) --ell Telaine --'m sorry" "(Telaine) That is why I think [illegible]'s indifference is WRONG" "(gray/Mira) Saved --ed, but at the cost of betraying" "(Telaine) Aryo--" "(Callie, teal) I don't think even he was on his own side." "(Aryox) I know. I had to. If there had been any other way, I would've…" "(Melora) --about the world, I needy you, Aryox." "(Melora) I am not neutral. I protect the--" "(gray) May [illegible]'s indifference protect me." The last speech bubble is just behind Aryox as he runs-- Melora's voice begging "please."

The first half of the next page is entirely taken up by a drawing of a statue of Melora, in slightly faded green. She stands in a column of light, stepping forward, smiling softly with one hand extended towards the viewer. She's looking down, towards whoever is looking at her. Green vines wrap around her, and she carries a green branch in her other hand with yellow, blue, and green flowers on it. Below the statue, a tiny Aryox stands across from it, on top of the border of the next panel, as he says "Mel?" Aryox stares up at her in shock.

The last page shows Aryox staring up at Melora from the front, his ears drooping and text bubbles echoing behind him. They are mostly illegible but some words can be made out: "(Aryox) Mel" "(Telaine) Goddess" "(Melora) I need you, Aryox" "(gray) Melora's indifference" Melora is shown laughing, with the panel fracturing into ice below her and cracks running through the vision of her as Aryox things "no." He is then shown stepping forward raising a hand towards Melora, ice crumbling away from the border of the frame, with Melora's statue still standing across from him. Text echoes behind him: "(Aryox) I know. I'm sorry. If there had been any other--" "(Telaine) Melora's indifference is WRONG" "(gray) Melora, I pray ---ence" "(Telaine) THAT'S how-----tle WE--- YOU" "(Melora) Please." "(Aryox) If I betray them, I have a reason." The ice is cracking below them, too, as Aryox thinks "not you." Mist begins to swirl into the page, and very faintly in the background Aryox's name in light green begins to appear. Aryox reaches up towards Melora, then stares up at her with a frown, putting his hand on her cheek. It is small against her face, and mist cuts across the corner of the panel. It is cut off in the corner by Melora yelling "Aryox!", the tail of this speech bubble parting the mist on the page. The speech bubble leads to Melora in the only colored panel of the comic-- Melora and Telaine leaning over Aryox from his Pov, with his hand on Melora's cheek, bigger against it than the statue's. Melora frowns as she speaks, and Telaine smiles softly, her eyebrows furrowed.

The discord DMs after read: discord dms between me (stonestars) and alli from november. I say "I'm hoping. What are the chances one of us gets the other since we both put the eladrin." Alli responds "possibly high"]

[al-jeanne]

10 things I do to feel close to my romantic F/O!

Hopefully, these will make you feel close to yours too♡

1. Make a Piccrew or Neka of the two of you! Dress each other up, try out different poses and backgrounds… and when you’re done, you’ll have a photo album of all the photos you took together! (Let me know if you would like a list of couples’ piccrews/Neka’s to make you and your F/O with)

2. Listen to your F/O’s voice double sing! I can’t vouch for forms of western media, but almost all Japanese seiyuus have sung something before, if you’re only willing to dig for it! Not only do a lot of IP’s include character songs, I’ve also even found cover CD’s of “popular voice actor compilations.” You can also consult my guide on how to find drama CD’s of your favorite voice actor here. I am always MORE THAN happy to help anime/Japanese game self-shippers find voice actor content; you need only ask💜

3. Snuggle their clothes! If you don’t have a shirt/jacket that belongs your F/O yet, I highly recommend getting one. If you take a trip to your local thrift store, I’m sure you’ll find something that matches their style that they left for you to find! Once you have it, I then recommend spraying it with their perfume or cologne– there are websites that let you design your own unique scents, but this is my favorite place to buy. [Bonus step: warm it up in the dryer or with a heating pad!]

4. Bring a little piece of them everywhere! I like to bring my plushie and acrylic stands out with me to photograph, but it can be anything they’d give you– a necklace, a trinket, a ring, a handkerchief– anything in your pocket that reminds you that they’re always there with you.

5. Make a “what’s in their bag” edit, and include pics all of the things they’d carry with them!

6. It’s classic, but make a playlist of songs that describe you, or the two of you together. You might even discover some new music in the process! (You can also ask some trusted friends and fandommates to make one for you!)

7. Make a list, collage, or board of their favorites things, and I mean everything! Favorite food, drink, color, season, flower, time of day, quote, gemstone, holiday, animal, movie, place…. as thorough as you’d like! Even if it’s not mentioned in canon, you know them best, right?

8. Speaking of Pinterest boards, everyone says to make them, but here are some ideas on specifically WHAT to make collages of.

•Clothes you think they’d wear (or want to see them in…)

•Decorations/design for their house (or both of yours!)

•Activities you’d want to do with them

•Places you’d like to visit together

•Moody pics that fit their style/aesthetic

•Gifts you would give them, or they would give you

•Things that would make them smile or laugh

•Quotes, or something sappy/romantic/intimate!

9. Fill out a ship template or make your own! (Like this, for example)

10. The Sims. Seriously. The base game has been free for a long time, and mods make anything you could dream of possible. I have a wonderful house, marriage, and lots of cute little kids with my F/O and it’s my favorite place to be!

Happy Selfshipping!♡

[alevolpe]

Hello! I plan on doing a Sailor Moon rewrite later on next year (bc i have a lot of shit to do in the entirety of my 3rd year of university) and I'd like to know what issues you have with each season of sailor moon. You don't have to name all of them, just name the biggest problem(s) you have with each season!! I hope I am not troubling you :3

Hi! You're no trouble at all! Thank you for asking, I'm humbled you're interested in hearing my opinion.

Ok, let's see. Before I start I wanna say, these are MY opinions based on also how I'm doing my own rewrite AU thingy, so don't take it personally if I don't want to include elements or characters you love. (Most fo the time it doesn't even mean I don't like those characters in canon, I just don't think they'd fit with the specific narrative I have in my mind)

I'll say for Season 1, my biggest issue is the amount of time it takes to get everyone in the cast. By the time we get Mina it's like what, over 3/4ths of the season in? I like that the show takes its time introducing everyone and giving the girls some organic bonding time in the filler, but there's better ways to do it imo. That's why I have Usagi be the last to awaken and meet an already tranformed Ami and Rei, so we don't totally break from Usagi being the center at first. We can use her as a vessel to get to know these new people and this crazy new identity at the same time she does, letting us know more about her too in the process, while not slowing the pace of the story to a crawl. As we get to know more, you can introduce the rest of the girls and break from the main group to catch glimpses of Mako and Mina, to later unite them. But that's my fix, there's other ways to fix the slow introductions, just.. don't maybe go manga style and spend only one ep per girl and immediately move on to the next, give them time to breathe.

My main issue with Season 2 is the time travel. The show does NOT know its own rules and that is a recipe for disaster, once you introduce an ally that is able to time travel, you got a LOT in your hands. Everything in the show could be solved with one travel through time, but they never do. Why? Cause otherwise the show wouldn’t exist. It leaves too many possibilities and questions that is not ready to answer. Idk how one could fix it, I'm sure there's many ways you could, I just have 0 interest in incorporating time travel in sm.

With Season 3 I'd say it's the introduction of the whole Pharaoh 90 or Mistress 9 thing. I don’t know, I know they are the main baddies, but like.. just make Saturn the main threat, she already basically is. That's my problem with it, I'm sure a ton of people disagree, but I'd rather the season just focus more on Saturn, Haruka, Michiru and Pluto, I don't need another "queen Nehellenia" type villain that gets introduced 2 seconds before the end. And I lovee Eudial and Mimete, but we don't need 5 of them. I'd just make those 2 Tomoe's assistants and that's that. Too many villains, especially if you're not going to do a motw format.

With Season 4.. uff where do I even begin. Tbh I scratch the whole season and do a ground up rebuilding project, but if I HAVE to stick with the canon structure I'll say make Nehellenia more present. She's THE BEST part of SuperS, make her more present and more threatening. Give her that mirror power from the get go, make her appear in mirrors, reflections, show her subtly , in the background, give the season a subtle but palpable atmosphere of unease, make her scary. I WANT TO BE SCARED of her! Also unrelated, but get RID of the S*A metaphor with the 3 eyes.

With Stars the whole pacing the season is a mess. The start is way too slow and the end is rushed as fuck. Introduce Galaxia as a present threat earlier, again idk how you'd do that exactly while keeping the episodic tempo of the show, but my solution is. Don't! Lol