#he doesn’t even know what soy sauce is

[minimallyminnie]

Hi! Sorry I haven’t been writing lately! Hopes this makes up for it!

Gn reader, Nightbringer timeframe so you are their attendant, uhhh a bit dark with some of them (Levi, Satan, Twins)

How you show the brothers you care about them even if they don’t remember you.

Lucifer

Though he stays in his room all the time, he does get up to do his daily things outside.

That being said, those days were rare when you could only hear the same album and small hics coming from his room

You remember the album from your time frame, he told you once

You were drinking tea with him and he told you how it was Lilith’s favorite album to play when she was happy

It hurt to see him not go to the table and eat.

So once Beel is out of sight in the kitchen, you go inside, make a plate of dinner and fill up a cup of hot tea for him

You knock twice on the door and set the food down next to the door, covered with foil and sticky note that says

“Lucifer, you should eat more. -[MC]”

You know he’s there when you come back to sweep the hallways and see an empty plate with a cup on top.

You only take the dishes in silent content and wash them in the kitchen.

Happy knowing that Lucifer at least ate.

Lucifer, in his room is working diligently on paperwork. He doesn’t need an…attendant to take care of him.

He’s capable damn it!

He can’t say he’s not capable. His pride doesn’t allow him. To be weak. To ask for help. To apologize.

His pride…has hurt his brothers. Has hurt them so many times. It’s best if he just stays inside and not hurt anyone.

He can’t let them suffer from his problems anymore, that’s how they ended up here.

He hears footsteps outside and is alert instantly, wondering if his brothers need something or if they’re asking for him to eat dinner with them or if they’re complaining about what so ever

But when he hears a gentle clink on the floor outside his room and the footsteps retreating, he knows that it’s you.

Lucifer waits for the footsteps to no longer be heard before he cracks open the door and sees a plate and a glass. He picks them up and locks the door again.

He sees the small sticky note on it and somehow in his cold and closed off heart, his heart warms at the note

He brushes it off before eating and drinking the entire thing, leaving it outside the door where it was previously in a pristine manner.

Now even if you are just an attendant, he won’t try to make your job harder than it is.

Somehow a part of him calls out to him that he just cares about you.

Mammon

His obsession with greed and Grimm has turned up to the max when he got turned into a demon

That being said, since he’s so busy trying to take care of his brothers who are falling apart day by day, he forgets to take a break

Anytime that you tell him, he’ll laugh it off and asks if you think he’s that weak

…you know he’s not weak.

The pain from losing his baby sister, how his brothers are crumbling, Lucifer not coming out of his room, this new home, his new body and wings, his virtue turning to a sin.

A sin that’s going to eventually cause everyone he loves to hate him. He despises his sin of Greed. It’s twisted, it’s malicious, it’s…awful.

Mammon can’t take it anymore but he still endures it for his family.

Just like in your time where he’s being berated left and right. You fall for him all over again.

One day, Mammon forgets to leave his door locked leaving you to come in and sneakily turn off his alarm clock before going back to Cocytus Hall

You do all his tasks for the morning once you get the to the HoL, telling the brothers that he’s just tired today (and he is, not that you’re lying)

When he wakes up and panics, you manage to calm him down explaining how he needed rest and that you’re taking a break. He calms down but then he sees you with a tray of cold tea and…two bowls of spicy ramen?

Hell Soy Sauce Flavored Cup Ramen??

He’s never heard of that before, sorta scary…but you said it was a treat from yourself

He picks up his chopsticks and takes a bite.

It does taste spicy and he chugs the tea while you’re laughing at his expression

But he looks at your smiling face and he thinks about how warm he feels inside, not knowing if it’s the ramen or you

He takes another bite and starts talking with you about how you knew about these noodles

“A close friend of mine shared some with me a few times.” He’s a bit jealous of this “close friend” but he still eats the ramen

Huh. He feels a lot better today than the past few months he’s been in the Devildom….

He thinks he finally has a favorite food now.

Leviathan

When he landed in the Devildom, he didn’t know why he was even there anymore

He was made for war and bloodshed against demons

Now he’s become what he sworn to kill

What…what’s out there for him anymore?

The days where he wakes up and gets out of bed feeling awful as can be are the hardest.

He has to show everyone how awful he feels and looks today.

He hates the stares he gets from his brother when they think he’s not looking for looking like he just rolled out of bed.

He hates his wings, his tail, his personality, how awkward he is, he wants his long and flowing robes back that made him confident like Lucifer was

He knows his younger brothers are suffering even more than him. He knows how much Satan feels like he doesn’t belong in their family. If he were just braver or if Satan was just mellower, he would take care of him like how Mammon did for him. But he’s a coward. He’s jealous of how well Mammon can handle things, how he can adjust so damn fast.

He hates himself

On one of the days you’re adjusting the pictures around the HoL after one of Satan and Belphegor’s fights, you hear a small voice from Levi’s room

Going closer, you hear me him say how he wanted to try this new game out that’s hot on the market but he can’t get the time to. When you peek in to see who’s he talking to, there’s a sheep plushie that you gave to the brothers to share and talk to.

New game….hmm you had extra Grimm right? Mammon didn’t steal any this week either!

You zap your phone out and quickly order the game. It didn’t make a huge dent in your account considering the amount of jobs you’ve taken during the free time you have

The next day, you knock on Levi’s door with an excuse to ask him for help on one of the Ruri Chan levels

When he opens the door, he sees a wrapped item in your hand which you promptly give him

“Consider it a gift for not leaving your tiny figurine accessories around the floor.” And then you walked away

Levi shuts his door and opens the gift nervously

He gapes at the game, how did you know he wanted this game?! Did you hear him??!

Levi will have to thank you tomorrow after he finishes the first part of the game first!

He wonders if he has to go to the doctor later though since his stomach is doing flips left and right…

Satan

It does take a while for Satan to properly put his comfort and trust in you

But it does somehow happen.

He’s lashing out at everyone and everything left and right

But he doesn’t know why it makes him angry.

He hates the looks on his brothers the people he lives with faces

Their faces…it scares him but his own pride refuses to acknowledge the fear

But when he sees your face…you never seem scared or upset at him.

Always…cheerful and somehow nostalgic even though you never met him before Mammon managed to catch you

He tries to push you away, tries to make his pain and internalizes that he’s a monster. A mistake that was only created by accident.

But.

You never stray away.

Shouldn’t an attendant rationalize their situation?!

Even if he lives in the same house, he could kill you more than any of the others!

But anytime he’s actually in his room, you’re always knocking.

You’re patient with him.

You’ve always been patient with him unless he actually does something messed up.

You don’t see him as a monster or Lucifer’s little copy. You see him as him.

His favorite thing of the day when you’re working is just going in his room during your breaks (which he memorized) and waiting for you

You knock and he opens the door. You always wait for him.

“Can I hang out with you for a bit?”

He always nods and lets you in

You end up talking about mundane things, you seem to know or find out things he might actually like!

You’re really smart and scary too but he won’t say that of course

He likes that you understand him. He’s not all that alone in this hellhole.

He just likes talking to you without being judged or interrupted. You don’t do those, you just listen to him.

And really, that’s the most amazing thing that someone can do for him.

…No you’re really the most amazing person that’s done this for him.

Asmodeus

Oh as if you aren’t his gift already!

Jokes aside, he is wary of you

You just dropped in and now you’re their attendant?!

Unbelievable! But of course he’s not going to say that in front of Lucifer and Diavolo!

Good heavens devildom, that would be his death wish!

He frequently looks up at the heavy clouds over the Devildom

He knows the sun never rises but, he wishes just one more time he’d be able to see the perfect sunrise and sunset before he got thrown here

Here where he looks like a freak.

Where he was praised and celebrated for his beautiful pearly white wings and his gorgeous robes. Where he had a damned amazing smile that lit up a room. Where is now gone. Permanently

He cries every-time he looks past a mirror or a reflection of himself

He has ugly ugly pointed horns that twist, hearts that look like they dripped down on his arm, and four short wings that don’t even look have as gorgeous as his old ones did.

He’s almost broken every mirror in the house he’s come by when he has thoughts like these. Mammon asked you while Asmo was crying one day to just make anything that looked remotely shiny, matte. Desperate to stop his younger brother’s tears.

(And you did. He figured out it was you and Mammon later and thanked both of by taking you two out for drinks. He starts to get used to one mirror at a time.)

He hates how his sin causes him to lust after everyone. He hates it. He can’t bear the pain in his heart when he meets someone who just wants to be friendly and he immediately thinks about how to bed them.

He just wants normal thoughts for once. Not all the lust addled thoughts that never quiet down.

He feels like an…item. Used for one night stands when he actually succeeds in bedding them and never again. Regret following him every time. Spiraling in his bed all alone.

Well, until you came.

He pounces on you with words filled with sweet and honey like words

But you know him.

You gently let him down each time but you let him do it to you everyday

Every day is another compliment, pick up line, or flirting act. He actually managed to stop going to parties after shooting all his lust willpower against you!

Did you plan this?! Oh sweetie~♡!He should’ve known! ♡

He’s…not upset though. He’s happy. No more being an item for demons or magic users anymore…he can…use his lines on you.

You…you don’t shame him or get embarrassed of them

(not even when they’re ultra lusty! Are you used to it already…? Did you hear them from someone somehow?!)

You don’t scorn him or look at him in disgust.

No. You don’t do any of those things even though he told you of the horrible things he’s done and how much he misses his appearance in the Celestial Realm.

Instead, you always surprise him and you smile and laugh at his daily routine with you. Even playing along with his antics sometimes.

“Haha! U + I = 69? Well I must be 59 since you’re a 10!”

And you smile.

A beautiful soul and creature called him a 10/10.

You called him beautiful.

When you walk away to subdue the brothers from arguing again, his eyes glaze over with tears.

His brothers had told him yes, and they mean a lot. But for someone who didn’t know him like his brothers and still saw beauty in a twisted angel like him…

His lust for you turned into something else.

Beelzebub

Everyday. Every single day. He dreams of the same thing that he doesn’t think it’s a nightmare anymore.

He sees Lilith die in Belphie’s arms, bleeding and beaten.

He sees Belphie look at him with despair and emptiness asking him why, why didn’t he save her? Why didn’t he save his baby sister? Why, why, why?

He wakes up with cold sweat at the same time every morning and tries to eat something from the pantry

But once he grabs something, a voice whispers to him. A voice that sounds like Lilith.

“Why didn’t you save me? Why, why, why? You should’ve died and left Belphie and I to live. I loved you and you left me to die by myself. Why Beelzebub? Why?”

Sometimes, when he looks at you, he sees Lilith there. Standing with a terrified and confused look. He knows you aren’t her but you…you somehow have that warmth that she had, intensified.

Beelzebub’s guilt and regret always stays with him. Any time he eats, he tastes despair on the tip of his tongue to the back of his throat

He saved Belphie…but his baby sister. The one who everyone, especially him was supposed to protect and fight for…

Died. Died alone. Died falling in pain.

(Lucifer almosts knocks on his door sometimes at night when he hears him but stops just an inch before. He cannot. He has to keep his lips shut.)

Everyday. Carrying the weight of his sister’s death around his neck. One day, he wonders if the weight will carry him instead.

He hates his sin. How he wants and wants and wants and takes and takes and takes and then when he cannot get it

He ruins.

He tore down Mammon’s wall, made all of Satan’s bookshelves fall on the floor, broke a huge piece of Asmodeus’s bathtub, and caused one of Levi’s figurines to snap in half. Just because he was the avatar of gluttony.

He hates it.

He hates it even more when he almost clawed you across your neck because he smelled candy in your pocket when he was desperate

You…you didn’t seem to be scared though.

(You already knew how he was.)

You were startled when he almost hit you but you just put down the cleaning towel down and took out the pieces of candy from your pocket and just gave it to him

He was incredibly confused on why you didn’t scream, or cry, or even get angry at him

“Just ask me next time, I always have some sort of candy or snack on me. Besides, I can cook for you too.”

He’s amazed at the fact that you just offered to cook for him

And when he wakes up from his nightmare again, you’re in the kitchen. Cooking some pancakes

He just sits down after he washes his face and his hands and watches you from the counter

When you’re done, you just give it to him on the plate with a lot of fruits and some whipped cream. It towered as high as his head even without the berries and cream.

His eyes just sparkle and his mouth gapes at the sight

He devours the delicious cakes in a minute and looks up at you to see if you’re upset about your hard work just disappearing like that

But you just smile at him and offer him some more.

Beelzebub doesn’t see Lilith anymore. Not even hearing her voice or her touch. He can feel her…no your warmth radiating from you.

He can feel some heat go to his face as he nods

Beel would be forever grateful for the break you’ve given him from his torment

Belphegor

Being the youngest means you really don’t have a say in anything you do

He followed Beel who followed Mammon who then followed Lucifer

He loved Lucifer but…

His sister…died

The one thing that he wished for was for his family to not perish

And he lost his sister.

With the anguish and grief upon him, he wonders how she’d be alive

If Lucifer hadn’t went against their father, she would’ve had a peaceful death…

If Beelzebub hadn’t saved him, she would still be alive…

No. It’s his fault.

He introduced her into the human realm. He killed her. He killed her.

It’s all his fault from the start.

He shouldn’t have went off with her to the realm of mortals

He should’ve just said no to her even with her puppy eyes

A piece of his heart is empty and dead from his sister’s death

She’s gone and it’s because of him.

He should’ve died that day.

He rather sleep and indulge in his sin as everytime he sleeps, he dreams of his whole family being together.

He curls up around his pillow, not allowing anyone, not even Beel to wake him up until he is needed.

Belphie promises to himself to protect his family. No matter what he does or kills.

…he sees how Beel looks at you though.

How he feels some sort of familiarity like…

Beel told him before how your presence felt like Lilith’s warmth.

And he was right. But it quickly turned into a bitter and regretful reminder for him.

He can’t stand to feel Lilith anymore. Not when she isn’t here.

But he feels a sort of warmth when you vacuum around him with a silent spell on the machine. He can see through his cracked opened eyes how cautious you are of him sleeping on the ground in his room

You…you even take his blanket and drape it over him gently.

And then go about your day.

This happens anytime he’s sleeping on the floor somewhere. Outside, inside, the planetarium…anywhere

And you always bring back the blanket he sleeps with no matter what.

He asks you why you do this when you could just leave him alone

“I don’t want you to get sick or cold when you sleep. It disturbs you and makes your dreams really difficult.”

…

Wow…you really do care that much.

He just falls asleep again afterwards when you drape it over him

But this time, the dreams of his family eventually add you in it, by his side laughing freely…

He wonders why Lilith never regretted falling in love with a creature that wasn’t an angel until he met you.

Uh so for Asmodeus’s, I know he looks in the mirror but I kinda hc him to completely break down when he would see his reflection right after becoming a demon? I mean change yk?

As always, thank you for reading!

#minniemoots #mindlessclow #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me! #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me mammon x reader #obey me leviathan x reader #obey me satan x reader #obey me asmodeus x reader #obey me beelzebub x reader #obey me belphegor x reader #x reader #obey me nightbringer #angst #hurt/comfort #gn reader #obey me

[back2bluesidex]

Where Do Broken Hearts Go - Chapter 1 (18+)

Pairing: Model, ex-boyfriend!Jungkook X Child psychologist, Fem!Reader X Lawyer, Single Dad!Hoseok. 

Summary: Jungkook stripped your emotions naked, left you bare in the chilly wind of despair and self-doubt with an unending heartache. You tried your hardest to move on from him, to live for yourself but failed miserably. Each night you had to come back to your empty home where memories and broken dreams were scattered all around the floor, until one day a little angel and her unbelievably beautiful father came into your life. Finally, when you find yourself healing, maybe falling too, Jungkook had to show up! Again!

Theme: Angst, pining, heartbreak, break-up, SMUT (MDNI)

Warnings: lots of crying, reader is broken, she is suffering so bad, a flashback explicit sex scene, big-dick Jungkook, kind of size kink, he hits it from behind, shower sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up), creampie, Jung Hoseok enters the scene, he is so attractive that you might faint, subtle and flirty Hoseok, an adorable little girl, Namjoon makes an appearance.

It's not really mentioned but just so you know, Hoseok and reader has a slight age gap like 5 years. (which is not at all an age gap to me because my first boyfriend was 8 years older than me. haha. you didn't just read that.)

Word count: 4.2k

Taglist requests are closed.

Minors and karens are not allowed in this blog

A/N: First chapter is here. I wrote 4k+ words for a single fic and that's unbelievable. Anyway, I hope you guys like it, and I hope it's worth the wait.

Main Masterlist

Chapters:- 

Prologue/Masterpost || Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 - Finale

“Reaching in 10 minutes” 

That’s what Jungkook texted you half an hour ago. 

It’s nothing new. He has always been late to your every date, every plan, every meetup. What is new is the lack of explanations and excuses following his delayed arrivals. He only apologizes and you hardly hear any sincerity in his atonements. 

You sigh, staring out of the huge window of the private cabin. 

Jungkook can’t meet you at your (supposed to be shared) home due to his “privacy” issues. So, you had to reserve this private cabin of an over-expensive continental restaurant. It’s funny how all of these feel so formal. It feels as if you are meeting one of your wealthy clients and not your boyfriend. This is how far Jungkook has drifted from you. 

Your feet bounce on the floor, reminding you that you are indeed very nervous. 

It’s a “leap of faith” situation for you today. If it works out then everything will start afresh, if it doesn’t… you will have to fall and break without having any idea on how to mend yourself. 

“Sorry. I’m late.” Jungkook’s muffled voice rings behind your ear. 

You were so lost in your thoughts, or fear, that you didn’t even hear him entering the cabin. 

He heads towards the seat opposite of yours, without any further greetings, any kiss or even a hug… not even a single glance.

“As if it’s the first time.” you scoff. Jungkook chuckles nervously, removing his mask and snapback. 

“Let’s order something. Heard their soy sauce chicken is a hit-” 

“Y/N, I can’t stay for long. Can you make it quick?” Jungkook cuts off your words. His tone is so curt, so foreign that you doubt if it’s actually him underneath his skin or not. 

“Jungkook… What's wrong? Why are you making things so formal? For fuck’s sake it’s me. Your so-called girlfriend.” Your voice quivers but you scream nonetheless. 

“Y/N! Quit being dramatic and lower your voice. We are not at home.” Jungkook hisses, teeth gritting, eyes narrowing. 

“Home? You mean the apartment you left because your agency said it’s risky to share a space with your girlfriend of three years? The same place you refused to meet at because paparazzi are keeping tabs on you as you are rumored to be dating someone else?” you reply with the same ferocity. 

Jungkook closes his eyes and rubs his face with both of his palms. Taking a sharp inhale, he says, “Can you please tell me why we are here? I don’t think you called me all the way here just so we can fight?”  

You roll your eyes, less in sarcasm, more in an attempt to make your tears disappear.

You sit straight as if being prepared for the sword that is going to pierce through your heart, “Jungkook, do you.. do you love me?” 

Jungkook visibly stiffens. His eyes go wide as if someone has asked him to jump off of the building. You see him collecting himself and clearing his throat only to lie, “O-Of course I do. But suddenly why?” 

Even though you want to believe his words, you know those are as hollow as his eyes and maybe his heart as well. 

“Then..” you pause, reaching for your purse. Pulling out the pitch black velvet box, you look at him. Jungkook’s eyes are wide again, filled with horror and confusion. He probably knows what you are doing and he does not seem to be the least bit happy.  

You stand up from your seat and round the table to reach Jungkook, “don’t you think it’s the high time we get engaged? It’s been three years since we started dating, our families approve of each other and” you pause, being unsure of whether you should say it, “and we have always wanted a future together.” You open the box for him to see, a tight-lipped smile lingers on your face only to punctuate your proposal.

Jungkook looks up at you with his big, doe, mystical eyes and then looks down on the ring you have spent a fortune on. Your heart hammers in your chest, but it is not the flattering kind. Your heart races in a fear that you are not ready to face yet.

Jungkook’s face falls and he looks away from you. He plays with his fingers and avoids any kind of eye contact with you. You stand there like a doll made of steel, staring at him holding the ring. 

“Y/N. This is not- I can’t. I mean, this is so sudden. I am at the peak of my career and I can’t think of getting engaged or married at this point of life.” he runs a hand though his dark hair out of frustration, “Why are you rushing everything like this?” Jungkook’s eyes are still trained on the table, not on you. 

“Because I am afraid, Jungkook. I am afraid you might leave me behind if I don’t try to hold onto you now.” you finally let your tears fall. Uncontrollable sobs leave your mouth. 

Jungkook whips his head towards you and then stands up slowly. He holds you by your arms and opens his mouth to say something, “Y/N. I-”

“But I guess it’s too late now. You were long gone. You were gone far before the day you were seen with her. I should have understood Jungkook. I should have…” you run out of breath but still continue, “now please answer me honestly, you love her. Don’t you?” 

Jungkook starts avoiding your eyes again. His grip on your arms loosens and you somehow know the answer already. 

“I never cheated on you, Y/N. I never lied to you.” He offers with eyes shut tightly. 

“But you never told me the full truth either.” your voice comes out weak. 

Jungkook remains silent for a while and then he continues with a frail voice, “That night. I mean, the photo that went viral, I was sending her back to her hotel. She flew all the way to the States to confess to me.” This is a new revelation to you, since you never really demanded any explanation from him. Honestly, you didn’t have the guts to face the truth. Rather you decided to try one last time. And that is what brings you here, defeated and rejected with a truck load of pain burdening you down. 

“And? What did you say?” you press on, being determined to end your suffering today even if it means you will have to return home with a broken relationship and a broken heart.  

“Nothing.” Jungkook gulps.

“You could not say no because you feel the same and you could not say yes because you still had me, is that right?” You know you awfully sound like you are in a session with one of your patients but you don’t care. You need to get to the root of this unbearable pain and cut it off for once and for all. 

Jungkook nods. Even though his eyes are hidden from yours, you know, those are full of guilt and shame but not a single speck of love and affection for you. 

You close your eyes, let the tears fall unbound, shut the box tight and take two steps back from your soon-to-be ex-boyfriend. 

“I know this is a stupid question but I- I’m just confirming” another sob leaves your mouth unintentionally, “do you want to break up? With me?” 

Jungkook pinches the bridge of his nose. He is probably finding a way to say yes without having to hurt you more than you can bear. 

“Y/N..” he murmurs. This is most likely the last time you are hearing him call you by your name. 

“Jungkook, please, just yes or no.” You take another step away from him.  

“Yes.” Jungkook breathes out. His eyes are still shut tight. 

Even though you knew what his answer would be, it still hurts much more than it did in your imagination. 

You feel as if your head is underwater, you can’t breathe, can’t fight, can’t scream. You need to be saved but the person you want to reach out to is the same person who pushed you into this unfathomable water. 

Your vision gets blurry with tears again, you can’t see Jungkook anymore. And you guess it’s better that way. 

“Okay. That's all I think. That’s all for our three years of history. I hope you lead a happier life from now on. Goodbye….. Jungkook.” and with that you left without waiting for him to say anything. You left him and a part of yourself with him. 

You are again sitting at your dining table, holding your phone tightly in your hand. You are again re-reading a headline just like you did a month and two days ago. You are again trying not to cry but you are failing miserably. 

“Calvin Kline fame Jeon Jungkook confirms the rumors by kissing rumored girlfriend actress Han Jiwon at a club downtown - The agency is yet to provide a statement.” 

It's cruel, how you have to wake up exactly at 7 in the morning despite crying for the better part of the night. 

It's even more cruel, how your vacation application (which you have been pursuing for more than a week now) was declined harshly because there's a "priority client" and you, arguably the most competent child psychologist of the clinic, have to take over the case. 

You reach for your phone and turn off the alarm. 

Opening your eyes, you stare at the ceiling blankly. It's been two weeks since you last saw Jungkook at the restaurant. It's been two weeks since your relationship came to an end. And it's been four months since you are sleeping on your own but you still crave for his warmth beside you. 

Love can be a funny thing. At one moment it's fulfilling you, injecting your heart with a sickening sweetness and at another one it's ripping off your urge to continue living, it's stuffing you with insecurity and self doubts that you hardly knew the existence of. 

You wonder what Jungkook is doing now. Is he sleeping by himself or is he waking up beside Jiwon? Is he kissing her shoulders softly like he used to do to you or is he hovering above her, spreading her legs and inserting his large shaft inside. 

Your thoughts are shaken off with the vibrating sound of your phone. 

It's Miseon. The receptionist of The Mindscope ( the clinic you work for) and probably the only person you can call a friend in this entire world. 

"Morning." You greet.

"Hey. Heard that your application was declined?" Miseon chrips from the other side of the line. 

"Yeah. For some priority clients. Kim asshole Namjoon will be deep-fried in burning oil in a giant ass frying pan in hell." You grumble.

"So you are coming back to work today I guess." 

"Yes I have to."

"Will you be okay tho?" You can hear concern in your friend's voice. She's the only person apart from your family to know about your and Jungkook's relationship. So, she called you immediately after seeing the tabloids twelve days ago. You cried on her shoulder when she visited you. 

"Yeah. I guess. I have to start doing the actual work anyway. My eyes are in pain for the prolonged hours I spent staring at Microsoft Word for these two weeks. Ugh. Now I hate documentation even more." 

Miseon chuckles, “Okay, see you at the clinic then.” 

“Yeah. see you.” 

You drag yourself out of the bed and head towards the washroom. If this is a new start, then you better accept it. 

As soon as the warm soothing water touches your body, memories come rushing back, flooding your mind with despair in the process. 

“Jungkook… I’m gonna get late” you whine, head tilting back with pleasure. 

Jungkook’s hand snakes around your waist, fingers reach for your sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“Five minutes won’t hurt, baby.” he whispers in your ear as his index and middle finger draw slow circles on your wet clit. 

His other hand teases one of your wet nipples, twisting and tugging it as harshly as he wants. 

A pool of slick gushes out of your hole making jungkook groan at the feeling. He dips his middle finger in your hole and collects some of your wetness, he then uses that to rub more smooth circles on your clit. 

You choke on thin air, moaning his name again and again you start to roll your hip on his naked cock. 

His giant cock fits perfectly along your ass crack, as if it was made to fit inside you. 

You roll your hips harder to elicit a reaction from your boyfriend. 

“Such a dirty girl, huh? All for me.” Jungkook’s husky voice pierce through your sober mind and you find yourself dazed with love and pleasure. 

Jungkook increases the pace of his fingers and you get more and more wet each passing second. 

“Kook.. I- I need you.” you manage to breathe out. 

“Don’t be vague, Y/N. Tell me what you exactly need.” Jungkook replies smugly. 

“I need your giant cock to ruin my pussy, daddy.” you reply, squeezing the tit that has been deprived of your boyfriend’s attention.

“Whatever my baby says.” and with that jungkook slips inside you in one go. You barely get any chance to adjust because he starts moving right away. 

He fucks you slow. His fingers never stop teasing your clit and soon you two reach your climax. He fills you with his cum and you coat his cock with yours. 

“Let’s get cleaned now, hm?” Jungkook places a kiss on your shoulder as he turns on the shower. 

Your back slides down the shower wall. You shake violently as loud sobs leave your throat one after another. 

“You are so cruel, Jungkook. You are so fucking cruel.” you scream. Your throat hurts but your heart hurts even more. 

You should have read the signs. When he kept on talking about Jiwon, aka his new friend from the agency, you should have perceived that shine in his eyes. 

You should have confronted him more when he said he would have a drink with her after his shoot. 

You should have asked his whereabouts when he ignored your calls and texts because he visited her in one of her drama sets. 

You should have done a lot of things but most importantly, you should have loved him a little less and loved yourself a little more. 

Counselee Information: - Name: Jung Sua Age: 7 (seven) Gender: Female (F) Guardian: Jung Hoseok  Relationship with the guardian: Father of the counselee  Reasons behind seeking help:  1. Changes in behavior  2. Quieter and more reserved than before 3. Frequent nightmares  4. Mild panic attacks 

“So, what do you think?” Namjoon questions, leaning on the plush chair, placed at the end of your table. 

“Nothing complicated. You could have handled it yourself. There was absolutely no need of rejecting my vacation applications again and again.” you spat, being very unimpressed with the dimpled smirk on your boss’ face. 

“Oh my god. What’s wrong?” he dramatically leans forward. Placing a hand on his chest, Namjoon continues, “I thought you will be in a better mood after two weeks of work from home. But you seem even more annoyed than before.” 

“For your information, I asked for a damn holiday not work from home aka  prolonged hours of documentation. I really need some time off, Namjoon. I am not kidding.” Your voice sounds so defeated that Namjoon has to sit straight. 

A serious expression takes over his features as he replies, “I know, Y/N. You are definitely not the type to take leaves for fun. But I am helpless here. The client has asked for you personally. He has done his own research and concluded that you can help his daughter better than everyone else in this clinic. I could not do anything.” 

You nod understanding his point of view. 

You are always more than ready to help these little, innocent souls out. It pains you to see these babies experiencing something as horrific as panic attacks. 

But this time you need therapy more than anyone else under your radar. Even though your exterior doesn’t show the unbearable pain your interior is going through, you still need some solace. You are really unwilling to work at this moment and you doubt if you can help anyone else when you are not mentally fit yourself.  

But you hardly have a choice. And maybe, just maybe, you will get a chance of distracting yourself from Jungkook's thoughts. Maybe you will be able to take a breather. Maybe you will heal in the process. Maybe? 

“The appointment is at 11 am, right?” You ask the man sitting right in front of you.

“Yes,” he answers. 

“It’s 10:49 already. Get out and let me prepare myself.” you mutter, closing your eyes and leaning back on your chair. 

“Okay okay. Don’t be so aggressive.” Namjoon chuckles before leaving you alone in the cabin. 

You go through Jung Sua's records once more to verify if there's a health condition you should be aware of. But there isn't anything. 

Just when you close the file, a knock rings on the cabin door. 

You sit straight. Ready to welcome a new friend. 

Yuna, your assistant, knocks once more before pushing the door slowly. She walks in first and then holds the door open for the guests. 

And the cutest seven years old, you have ever seen, walks inside. She's so small that she can be easily mistaken for a five year old. Her chubby cheeks and immaculately done pigtails makes her look like a doll. 

You almost coo at the sight. 

Even though you mostly work with kids, for the past year you were working with only teenagers. It's been long since you had the pleasure to serve yourself for a kid less than ten years old, let alone a seven year one. 

"Hello there, Miss Sua. How are you doing?" You say in a jovial voice, trudging towards the baby. 

Sua tenses a bit and looks behind her, looking for shelter from her father. He stands right behind Sua, offering her to hold one of his hands. Sua takes that readily.

You come forward and sit on your knees to maintain an eye level with your new friend. 

"Don't worry. I'm your new friend. My name is Y/N." You offer her your hand. She hesitates a bit and then looks at her father for confirmation.

You follow her cue and tilt your head up to take a look at the father of your counselee.

Only if you weren't the embodiment of damsel of distress these days, you could very well have a love at first sight. 

The man flaunts a pair of incredibly beautiful yet intimidating eyes, a chiseled jaw that can cut you into pieces, perfectly styled dark hair that falls on his face, and a pair of heart shaped lips which enhances the overall beauty of his face. The fitted dress pants and the black dress shirt give hints of the lithe, well-structured body that lies inside. 

He smiles at you, you do the same. And then you feel a softer, smaller hand wrapping up your fingertips lightly. 

Her cuteness makes you giggle. 

You stand up, taking her hand on yours, you start walking towards a cozier corner of your cabin, where you usually counsel kids. Her father follows you closely behind. 

There's a small and round glass table along with three chairs. One is meant for you and two others are meant for the counselees and their guardians. 

You turn towards Sua’s father. Smiling a little and you say “You need to take the seat first, so that she can be assured it is safe here.” 

“Sure” he replies. His voice is smooth and light, a contrast to his dark and manly features. 

He sits down on the bigger chair and pats on the smaller one, “come on Sua, com ‘ere.” 

Sua leaves your hand and wiggles towards her dad. She easily plops down on her seat. 

“Yuna, can you prepare the game room please?” You ask your assistant.

“Sure, Y/N” She says before closing the door as you get comfortable in your own chair. 

Sua regards you with her big, round doe eyes. She looks at you so intensely as if you have grown two horns in your head. 

You chuckle a bit, “Sua, don’t you like your new friend? Don’t you like me?” 

Sua stays silent. 

“Sua is very friendly. I am sure she will like Y/N very soon. Isn’t it, baby?” Sua’s father chimes in, squeezing one of her little hands with his bigger, rougher ones. 

You are so accustomed to your patients and their guardians to address you as “doctor”, that you had to take a moment after your name rolled out of Mr. Jung’s mouth. 

The change is welcomed anyway. 

You divert your eyes from Sua to him, only to find him smiling at you warmly. You mirror his smile. His smile is so damn gorgeous that you can’t help but feel contaminated with it. 

“Sua, what do you like to play the most?” you focus on Sua again.

“Mario kart” she replies briefly, staring down at her feet. 

“Okay. That's a great game. But what would you like to play outside? For example with your classmates during lunchtime?” You place your next question. 

“My classmates don’t play with me.” She was quick with her answer. 

Your smile drops instantly and you already start mapping out all the possible sources of the issues she is facing. 

Nodding to yourself in understanding, you proceed, “Okay, let’s not talk about games anymore. You tell me what you like more, oranges or mangoes?”

“Mangoes.” she replies. 

“Okay” standing up from your seat, you walk towards your table and call Yuna. She comes within a few seconds. 

You instruct her to take Sua to the game room and treat her to some delicious mango juice. Even though Sua hesitates for a bit, her father’s encouragement works really well. 

As soon as Sua leaves the room, you find yourself quite nervous under the intimidating gaze of Mr. Jung. 

This setting is nothing new. You have been into one-on-one conversations with your counselees’ parents for more times than you can count. But none of them were as young and attractive as Mr. Jung. 

You inhale a long breath before continuing, “so, Mr. Jung, since when did you start noticing these changes in Sua?” 

“Almost a month ago. I can’t pinpoint an exact date but she has gradually become very quiet over this last month. She used to be very chatty. She used to tell me every little thing in detail about her day, her friends, what she had for lunch, what colors she used in drawings and so on. Now-a-days her answers have become vague and insignificant.” Mr. Jung sighs.

“Hmm. and the nightmares?” you ask, scribbling on the ipad. 

“Around the same time. She woke up at 2 in the morning, ran to my room crying and breathing heavily. She didn’t tell me what it was about but kept on saying she was afraid. The same thing happened two more times.” He completes. 

“Umm. The next question might be a little personal but the information is required for future counsellings. I ask for your understanding.” you sit straight. He nods. 

“You said she came running to you when she had nightmares. Hence, I assume you were alone in the room. What about Sua’s mother?” 

“I am a single dad, Doctor. Sua’s mother and I were in a casual relationship when she conceived with Sua unexpectedly. Both of us were just starting our careers so it was tough for us to think of getting married. On the top of that we didn’t like each other enough to proceed with that option. So, we decided to co-parent. But…” he pauses, takes in a long breath and then continues, “she disappeared after giving birth. She left a note behind as an apology, saying that she is not ready to be a mother, asking me not to contact her anymore. My mother and sister helped me in raising Sua so beautifully. They are the only ones to become something close to a mother figure for her. That’s all.” 

You feel something warm flooding in your chest. You don’t know what it is, it can be respect, can be sympathy, can be even admiration for this man who you don’t even know properly. 

A genuine smile takes over your face as you mutter, “You have done a great job Mr. Jung. You have raised a beautiful daughter all by yourself. You have worked hard.” 

Mr, Jung’s dark eyes flood with some emotions you can’t quite name. He stares at you intensely, so much so that you feel he is reading you inside out. You can’t help but stare back at him. 

“Call me Hoseok. So that I can call you by your name too. Is that okay, Y/N?” his voice is deeper than earlier, his smile is lopsided, more like a smirk. 

You find yourself easily smiling along with him, something that has been quite tough for you to do for the past few months. 

“Sure. Hoseok.” Your reply comes out without any further thought.   

Taglist:-

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @soraviie @sukunabitch @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @xjoonchildx @justmewondering-recs @cuteipat @miakey98 @purpleanchorcrown @chimmisbae @ane102 @junniesoleilkth @terjeonbebas @kookssecret @appleh4ad @kayleeshinee @whoa-jo

#bts angst #bts smut #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #hoseok angst #hoseok smut #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #hoseok x reader #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #hoseok scenarios #jhope angst #jhope smut

[emmyrosee]

Admittedly, Akaashi is an extremely forgetful man.

Scatterbrained, he prefers to call it, says it’s from a few too many volleyballs accidentally aimed at his skull from his old teammates, and he’s adamant it’s not because he’s just plain forgetful.

He picks up pans and trays that are fresh from the oven, unsurprisingly getting burned. He doesn’t know which anniversary you celebrate -meeting, officially dating or when he proposed- and he asks you every time one of those dates rolls around if you want to celebrate it. He has no clue what he did with the good set of pens you bought him for his birthday, and he becomes furious whenever he tries to think of where they may have gone.

He says they probably got stolen at work. He knows you know better.

But there is a few things Keiji remembers like the back of his hand- like how when he’s on his way home, you asked him to pick up some soy sauce for dinner. And, when you’re mad, he knows that if you’re emotional, you want ice cream, and physical, you want flowers.

He knows your shoe size, the names of the members of your family, the toppings you like on pizza and crackers, how you take your coffee and what time you want him to wake you up in the morning, even as you swat at him to go away.

Keiji knows when you want him to listen, or when you need advice, he knows which of his shirts are your favorite so they’re readily available for you to steal. He knows what spot you prefer on the couch when you watch tv, and he knows exactly how to make everything in your every day life just a little bit easier to navigate.

And Keiji isn’t above reminding himself of these things as you stare, amused across the table, as he digs around his backpack for his phone to show you the incredibly friendly dog he passed on the train home to you.

“I swear I had it,” he grumbles.

You offer him a shrug, “maybe you left it on the train.”

“God, please don’t put it out in the universe,” he nearly whines, bluest of eyes looking up at the ceiling in worry. “Can you please call it for me?”

“Sure!” With that, you take out your phone and immediately call his, his digging hands only pausing to answer the phone ringing just on the other side of his dinner plate.

He, of course, in true Keiji fashion, answers it swiftly, with a brow cocked at you. “Why are you calling me?”

You smile and shake your head lovingly, “found your phone.”

“Where-“ he cuts himself off before hanging up and burying his face in his hands, realizing just how ridiculous the scene must have looked. “Oh.”

“Yeah oh,” you tease, and you laugh at the expense of his reddening cheeks and the groan he lets out behind his hands.

Scatterbrained, sure. He’d probably lose his head if it wasn’t attached to him.

But he’s always grateful to have you bring what’s lost, back to him.

#I’m soft don’t look at me #akaashi keiji #akaashi keiji fluff #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi keiji x gn!reader #akaashi keiji x reader fluff #akaashi keiji imagine #akaashi keiji haikyuu #akaashi #akaashi fluff #akaashi x reader #akaashi x reader fluff #akaashi x gn!reader #akaashi imagine #akaashi haikyuu #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #haikyuu x gn!reader #haikyuu x reader fluff #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x yn #haikyuu x y/n

[delcakoo]

nice to meet you, boyfriend!◞♡ ⃗ y.jw

۵ SUMMARY ! when a strange man approaches you at the grocery store, you call for your "boyfriend", who has just cluelessly entered the store, unaware of his new relationship status with you, a complete stranger. hopefully he plays along…

۵ PAIRING ! jungwon × gn!reader

۵ GENRE ! fake dating on the spot, fluff with shy wonnie

۵ WC ! 1.2k

۵ WARNINGS ! weirdo trying to get your number — he touches your hand

a/n: woops i wrote this thing super quickly last night while listening to old love by yuji <3 i should be working on requests but it was jungwon hours okay!! (when is it not tbh)

farmers must be smiling brilliantly by a glance at the view outside. heavy droplets of rain shower onto the concrete, washing away the tiny pieces of rubble deserted one by one.

but those little rocks weren’t the only soon-to-be deserted things if your damn umbrella didn’t open up; you knew you shouldn’t have made such an impulsive purchase at the dollar store — but the colorful design of the flexible plastic was much too charming to resist!

nonetheless, after a couple more pathetic attempts of you looking like a lunatic and smacking your umbrella against the ground, you eventually huff in surrender as you continue down the sidewalk, allowing the raindrops to attack you mercilessly.

all you wanted was to pick up some easy, reheatable dinner from the convenience store, you didn’t think you’d be getting a free shower along the way.

luckily, it wasn’t much longer before you made it to the small market, sighing in relief as the warmth enclosed you from the miserable weather outside. you nod politely in greeting to the employee behind the counter, shuffling your way further into the store to find yourself some ramen.

now, the hardest decision of all, what flavor to get? perhaps today is a roast beef day, yeah that sounds pretty good! or wait, soy sauce never fails either, but you couldn’t go wrong with just salt right—

“excuse me?”

you’re snapped out of your inner debate by the sound of a male’s voice from right next to you. flinching in surprise, you turn around to find a much older looking, tall man staring down at you. “oh, yes?” you reply awkwardly, looking around to see if you’ve missed something. “my bad, am i in the way?”

the stranger smirks, gazing down at you strangely as if you were a piece of meat. “no, actually i was just wondering if i could get your number?” he asks (well, it didn’t exactly seem like asking in the way he already began pulling out his phone in the middle of his sentence, as if there was no possibility of you denying him).

“uh,” you gulp, looking around the store nervously. “i’m sorry, do i know you?

for some reason, his simper grows at that, suddenly grabbing your hand in his free one. “no, but you can always get to know me, babe.”

yeah, absolutely not. you resist the urge to gag, now feeling more enticed to simply find an escape rather than get your ramen.

fortunately, the doorbell rings abruptly, alerting a new customer's entry and giving you the distraction needed to rip your hand away from the man’s unwanted grip.

a cat-like boy with fluffy, tangled hair walks in, his hands cutely stuffed into the pockets of his grey hoodie. each ear held a shiny white airpod, and his sweats and sneakers told you that just like you, he was probably just here to quickly grab something and be on his merry way, which only made you feel more guilty for what you were about to do.

“oh! actually, there’s my boyfriend,” you shout slightly, praying to every god that the boy’s headphones weren’t soundproof, and that he’d play along.

even at the mention of your ‘boyfriend’, the older man doesn’t back up at all, clearly untrustworthy of your statement as he stays grossly glued to your front.

your new boyfriend definitely didn’t hear you; it was easy to tell in the way he continued to nod his head slightly to his music, walking down the aisle, until for a split second, he met your desperate eyes. at your intense staring, his eyebrows furrow, looking between you and the man before cautiously taking out his airpods. “uh, hello?”

even his voice was cute, damn it. focus. “babe!” you watch worriedly as his eyes widen in surprise at the petname. shit, please play along.

“i’ve been waiting for you, i was just deciding on what ramen flavor we should get.” you hold your breath, both you and the man staring at him intensely.

it was silent for a moment. pleasepleasepleaseplease—

the boy unravels his hands from his pockets, confidently walking over to you and wrapping an arm around your waist. “oh, is that so? and who’s this?” he says, unimpressed as he studies the man up and down.

the man quickly backs up, raising his hands in surrender. “oh, my bad man, i was just—”

your new companion coughs as an interruption, suddenly pushing you back to stand in between you and the man. “trying to flirt with my partner? that’s nice, but i think we’ll be on our way now,” he announces nonchalantly, leading you along next to him as you make your grand escape.

the millisecond you’ve made it to a new aisle of the store, the boy releases you from his protective grip, shyly backing up and bowing instantly. “i’m so sorry, i hope it was okay i touched you i just wasn’t really sure what to do but i—i knew you needed help and—“

you walk up to him as he continues his rant, taking his larger hand in yours in hopes of getting him to calm down a bit. though it seems to have the opposite effect by the way he instantly freezes up, and you barely hold in a laugh at his dumbstruck expression and apple red cheeks.

just moments ago, this boy was standing up to a man much older and bigger than him with a confident hold on your waist; now here he was, refusing to even meet your eyes as he fidgets with his hoodie strings.

“it’s okay, i really appreciate it. what was your name?” you inquire with a tilt of your head.

“jungwon! it’s jungwon.”

“y/n,” you introduce, offering a hand out to him. “say, jungwon,“ he smiles shyly at the way his name flows out of your lips, a harsh dimple poking through his cheek. “wanna come have some ramen with me? y’know, to show my appreciation.” you aren’t quite sure where your sudden confidence came from, perhaps it was due to how timid the boy in front of you was.

jungwon’s head snaps up at your offer, and you coo at his small expression that truly resembles a surprised cat. “oh, sure! i actually came here to buy some anyway.”

that’s how you found yourself hand in hand with a boy you’d only met a few minutes ago, grocery bag slung over your arm while you share his airpods, humming along to music while walking back to your apartment.

“under the moonlight we made our first kiss, ‘cause this is the moment you made me feel like it’s the old love…

© delcakoo on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not rewrite, cross-post, translate, copy, etc.

taglist: @duolingofanaccount @strawberry-sunset-skies @scented-morker @flyingpotatoes

#delcakoo #enhypen fics #enhypen fic #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagine #enhypen imagines #enhypen #enhypen drabbles #enhypen drabble #enhypen blurbs #enhypen x reader #enhypen x gender neutral reader #enha fluff #jungwon imagine #jungwon x you #jungwon x y/n #jungwon scenarios #jungwon drabbles #jungwon fics #jungwon x reader #jungwon fluff #jungwon imagines #yang jungwon scenarios #yang jungwon fics #yang jungwon imagines #yang jungwon x y/n #yang jungwon #enha fics #jungwon fanfic

[ruesyblues]

Damian doesn’t like fish.

He tolerates the meat that is served at the manor most nights, even though it sits heavily and unpleasantly in his stomach. He puts up with Shepherd’s pie and spaghetti bolognaise and pork ribs, because the others seem to love it, singing praises for Alfred’s cooking every night, and Damian doesn’t want to appear ungrateful, or unusual, or out of place.

Then one night Alfred makes steamed fish, cooked in lemongrass and ginger, drizzled with soy sauce.

“I’ve noticed you don’t exactly enjoy our usual meals,” he says, and before Damian can protest, continues, “I looked up this recipe for you, I hope you’ll like it.”

Damian doesn’t like fish.

“Thank you,” he says, and then eats every bite. Alfred seems genuinely pleased and it fills him with warmth, which makes up for the way his stomach curled at the unpleasant texture.

Damian learnt to cook at a young age.

He was always busy, with lessons and training, his grandfather always pushing him to do more, to do better. Sometimes in the evening, however, he would follow his mother to the kitchen, where she would chop onions, fry spices in oil, and roll out rotis, getting flour in her pinned-back hair.

“Why do you cook?” he asked her, “You don’t have to.”

His mother laughed. “I like to,” she said, “Do you want to try rolling the roti?”

His first attempt came out uneven and oddly pentagonal, nothing like the perfect circles his mother made. She still ate it, and told him that it was the best roti she’d ever had.

Damian learnt to cook at a young age.

He also learnt that love was when someone made you a food you didn’t like and you ate it anyways and loved it, because you loved them.

His mother came back from Delhi once and brought him jalebis. “They were your favourite when you were younger,” she said.

Damian was eight now, and didn’t like the heavy, syrupy sweetness of jalebis anymore. But his mother was holding the gold-patterned box that she’d brought just for him, her hand resting gently in his hair, and he could feel a warmth rising up inside him, feeling like it would choke him if it got too big. He would have eaten a thousand jalebis to feel like this all the time.

Damian doesn’t understand a lot of things.

“Sorry I’m late, Alfred,” Richard says breathlessly. “I brought ice cream?”

Damian doesn’t hear Alfred’s reply, but it makes Richard laugh. There are footsteps, and then Richard enters the living room where they’ve all gathered, looking wind-blown and ruffled but delighted to see all his siblings together. Damian knows how rare it is for all of them to gather in the manor, and he appreciates the opportunity to spend time with his family.

“What kind of ice cream did you get?” Drake asks.

“Mint chocolate chip,” Richard replies, and there’s a general cheer of appreciation through the room.

“My favourite,” Stephanie declares.

Richard grins, and comes around the sofa to give her a hug from behind. “That’s why I got it.”

Damian hates mint chocolate chip. He’d told Richard that once, when they were up on a rooftop after a night of patrol, expressing his disgust for the mismatched flavours at great length while Richard laughed. “How could anyone hate mint chocolate chip?” he’d asked with an exaggerated gasp of offence, but he’d seemed amused.

Damian loves Richard more than he’s loved anyone in his life. If Richard brings him mint chocolate chip ice cream, then Damian will love it too.

Alfred comes into the room with a tray laden with bowls, each filled with that brown-speckled green concoction. Damian waits for his, but when Alfred reaches him, he unearths a bowl of vanilla and hands that to Damian instead.

Damian stares at it. He’s so surprised that he barely remembers to thank Alfred.

“I got vanilla for you,” Richard tells him, as he settles into the couch next to him with a contented sigh. He grins. “I remember how much you hate mint chocolate chip.”

Damian doesn’t understand a lot of things.

He knows the way Richard’s arm curls around his shoulders, however, and the way his grip tightens slightly as Damian leans into him, watching the others bicker over what movie they’re watching. Damian eats his vanilla ice cream, that Richard got specifically for him, and feels that familiar warmth.

It feels like love.

#damian wayne #robin #dick grayson #nightwing #talia al ghul #alfred pennyworth #headcanon #fanfiction #fanfic #angst #fluff #dc #batman #bat family #batfam #dick and damian #rue's queues

[sailoryooons]

Had a big flop of a date and I'm sad.

Need a bff Yoongi that listens to your wallowing and tells you you don't need to be getting your feelings hurt by other dumb boys because he's RIGHT HERE and he's ready to give you everything you need )))):

❀ Pairing: Yoongi x f. reader

❀ Summary: You’re tired of the revolving door of boys in your life. Yoongi is tired of watching you nurse feelings in the quiet of your apartment. 

❀ Word Count: 1,406

❀ Genre: Friends to something more, a little angst, fluff

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

❀ Warnings: A little bit of angst, descriptions of loneliness and frustrations on dating, a little bit of insecurity, Hali’s Obnoxious Takes on Dating in 2023, a cute lil kiss, nothing too crazy

❀ Published: August 18, 2023

❀ A/N: Pardon me while I wax poetic about the current state of dating, especially with all these damn apps in the world. I hope this was able to capture how you felt in a way that feels authentic and then shatter it and make it better by offering a very sweet Yoongi ready to date you. I am so sorry your date was shitty, genuinely this is why I do not go on them!!!! This is currently unedited.

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

| Masterlist | Ask | Hali’s Happy Agust |

Outside of your apartment window, the world is washed in gold. As the sun sets, you wish you could appreciate it a little more. The world looks beautiful outside, buildings like hammered bronze in the light, curtains lit up like a flame as they catch the rays of sun.

You look away from it, staring at your TV that is turned off instead. It’s silent in your apartment, the hum of the refrigerator the only noise. With your legs crossed on the couch, you tap your nails against the steaming mug of tea in your hands.

Sitting. Waiting. 

In another life, you’d perhaps be out on a date on account of the nice evening. The cool autumn air drifts through the cracked window, carrying the scent of possibility.

The only dates you’ve been on usually go two ways: they end in blocked numbers after uncomfortable interactions, or hurt feelings after being strung along for a few dates before eventually sending unanswered texts. 

It makes sense that dating is hard, but no one ever told you it would be this hard, trying to swim in a rushing river of dating apps, men who use therapy-speak to excuse their bad behavior, and people who have no accountability for others feelings. 

The sound of the front door opening brings you out of your melancholy daze. Yoongi walks in with a bag of takeout, immediately filling your apartment with the smell of fried wontons and the distinct hint of soy sauce. 

For the first time that day, you grin, unfolding from your spot on the couch and heading to wear Yoongi throws you a nod, already unbagging the food. You move wordlessly in tandem, grabbing drinks from your fridge with extra sauce and napkins. By the time you’ve returned to the counter to sit, Yoongi is already on his self-appointed stool, holding out his hand for chopsticks. 

This is what you need, you think as you pass them over. Someone who can speak to you without words, someone who just knows. Knows that when you sit down next to him, you need him to lean over and press a gentle kiss to the top of your head. It’s affection between friends, but it makes your heart flip. It always does, and you always ignore it.

“Talk to me about it,” Yoongi says, picking up a saucy strip of beef. “I want to hear about it.”

He doesn’t. Yoongi doesn’t say these things for his benefit. He says them because he knows that you’re too afraid of being inconvenient or annoying to speak the thoughts rolling around your head. His instincts are spot on - you do want to let out what’s inside of you, and the gentle encouragement that he wants to hear it does the trick.

“I guess I just don’t know what the point is,” you start, staring at your rice. “I really want a partner and someone that I can do life with or whatever so I’m less lonely, but I’m also so sick of first dates and having to play a game of social chess.”

“Dating in this era is impossible,” Yoongi agrees. “There’s a lot of very unempathetic and unaware individuals.”

“Exactly. Or people think they have endless options and it’s like, just because someone is in your DMs telling you that you look nice doesn’t mean that’s a potential suitor. It just means someone thinks you’re hot.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Okay, so the last guy basically told me that he wanted to keep his options open because he has options. And it got me thinking: do people actually have all these options for life partners, or is it just people who are giving them attention online?”

“I see.”

“Online clout is not the same as a relationship option,” you conclude. “And I’m tired of people confusing the two. Or getting people who think it’s cool not to care about their partner or who use weaponized therapy words at me to avoid accountability. I had some guy tell me he was setting a boundary for me on monogamy and that me being interested in a one-on-one relationship was a violation of his feelings and that I need to be open.”

Yoongi stops eating and looks at  you. His mouth presses in a firm line, the only sign that he’s truly irritated. “Did he say that before you started to go on dates?”

“Nope. Only later when I became invested.”

“Then it’s bullshit,” Yoongi scoffs, shaking his head. “You’re interested in different things, not violating a boundary. What an asshole.”

“They all are.”

Groaning, you press your forehead to your palm, supporting the weight of your head with your elbow on the counter. You hate this. Hate the way it all makes you feel, hate that you want something so bad but it seems just out of your reach, hate that you’d love to find someone like Yoongi.

Once, you’d thought about asking him. You’d decided that your friendship was more important, because without him, who is there? 

Now you look for someone - anyone - to do the bare minimum. To not make it feel like you’re searching for a needle in a haystack the size of Olympus, or like you’re being irrational for wanting human decency. 

“I’m not,” Yoongi says softly. You hum a question, confused as to what he’s talking about. “An asshole,” he clarifies. “I’m not an asshole.” 

“Well I know that. But I’m not dating you.”

“So try it, then.”

You lift your head from your palm, looking at him sharply. Yoongi isn’t much in the way of poking fun at you - not in a way that is really at your expense. He doesn’t seem to be joking now, staring at you with honest, brown eyes, chewing his lip. 

“What?” 

“I said what I said.” He drops his gaze for a second - perhaps towards your lips - and meets your eyes again. Your heart speeds up, thudding against your ribcage. “So try dating me.”

“Are you making fun of me?”

He scowls. “Of course I’m not. I’m being serious.”

“You want to go on a date with me?” He nods. “Why?”

Blowing out a long exhale of air, Yoongi shrugs. The golden light from the sunset hits him at just the right moment, then. He’s wreathed in gold, a shining beacon of hope. Of an answer. Of something more. You lick your lips as Yoongi considers his answer. 

“Because I like you, for starters,” he says, giving you a look. A look that means he thinks you’ve asked a silly question. “Because I think that you are wonderful and creative, and a gentle soul. Because I think you deserve someone who is interested in working on something with you, and who won’t flee at the first sign of conflict. Because I empathize with you, I enjoy doing life with you, and because you’re beautiful.”

Any worry you’ve had about your feelings for Yoongi comes to a standstill. There, in your apartment, in the honey-haze of evening, you drop your chopsticks and press forward. Curious, a little bold, a little terrified. Yoongi sucks in a sharp breath of air when he realizes what you’re doing, but he lets you anyway. 

Yoongi’s lips are soft. He tastes a little like soy sauce and sweet and sour, but you don’t care. Your heart thrums in your chest and your hands shake when you lift them to cradle his face. His hands go to your waist, holding you confidently, like they were made to fit there. 

Warmth blooms inside of your chest, unfurling dizzy petals as you pull your lips away from his. You don’t know where you got the bravery, but as your eyes flutter open to meet his gaze, deep and unwavering, you realize you don’t know why you were ever scared to consider him. 

Yoongi has always been right there. Holding your hand when you were lonely, offering a joke when you were sad. There have been countless times you could have had this, you realize. Little moments where the tension grew too thick or your gazes lingered too long. 

It’s only until now that someone was brave enough to say something. 

“Okay,” you breathe, fingers gentle against his warm face. He smiles, eyes crinkling. “It’s really that easy, huh?”

“It always was. I was always right here.”

You press your lips against his again, chaste and sweet. 

“You’re right. You were always right here.” 

#yoongi fanfic #suga fanfic #yoongi fluff #yoongi comfort #bts fanfic #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #halis happy agust

[jimmy-dipthong]

罠英語・Trap Words pt 5

ソース → ❌ Sauce → ✅ Japanese style worchestershire sauce

In Japanese common usage, the word 「ソース」 only refers to a specific subcategory of sauce - japanese style worchestershire sauces. Although in certain technical circumstances, 「ソース」 may also carry the broader meaning that the english equivalent does, calling something like soy sauce 「ソース」 in a regular conversation won’t get your meaning across.¹

We can see this in the Japanese Wikipedia article for ソース. Though the article is about the broader definition of sauce, there is a notice at the top of the page:

“This article is about the general name for a liquid or paste used to season food (the broad definition of 「ソース」). For Worchestershire Sauce (the narrow definition of 「ソース」), see Worchestershire Sauce.”² (my translation)

Side note: I know it's a meme but "Worchestershire" isn't hard to say. It's just "wooster-sheer".

Though ソース can be found as a part of various other words ( ミートソース/meat sauce; ホワイトソース/white sauce; トマトソース/tomato (pasta) sauce), when it is used just by itself, it almost exclusively refers to worchestershire sauce varieties. For example, you can’t abbreviate ミートソース to ソース, even when the context is clear.

Within the category of what Japanese speakers mean when they say ソース, we have ウスターソース, which is similar to the thin English Worchestershire sauce; 濃厚ソース, which is sometimes marketed as tonkatsu sauce and is very thick and viscous; and 中濃ソース which is somewhere in　between. お好み焼きソース is also a type of ソース, similar to 濃厚ソース.³

グリーンピース → ❌ Greenpeace → ✅ peas

Yep… the word グリーンピース doesn’t refer to the environmental activism organisation Greenpeace, which I discovered to some surprise during an actual conversation with my Japanese partner. Since Greenpeace is famous for its anti-whaling stance, and Japan is the country with the highest levels of whaling in the world,⁴ it was only natural to assume that it was a direct transliteration of the organisation’s name. Maybe it’s a common point of discussion in Japan, I thought.

In reality, it literally just means peas. Green peas. An instance of the plural being built into the transliteration (like バケツ), since Japan has no plurals. It’s weird that it’s not グリーンピーズ though, don’t you think? I guess we can just chalk that up to an initial pronunciation error that carried though to the modern day.⁵

Why hasn’t it been shortened to ピース? Well:

Because ピース means “the peace sign”. This word/pose is so common in Japanese culture that shortening グリーンピース to ピース would likely be confusing.

To be clear, the organisation’s name is also transliterated as グリーンピース, but overwhelmingly in regular conversation, グリーンピース will mean “peas”.

トレーナー → ❌ trainers (sneakers) → ✅ sweatshirt

This might not necessarily be a trap word for people from the US, but it is at least a funny place for 和製英語 to show up. According to this source, this word was invented by a fashion designer named Kensuke Ijizu, who was apparently a big boxing fan, and noticed that the trainers always wore sweatshirts, and so decided to name the clothing 「トレーナー」 when he released his designs in Japan⁶. It’s rare that a trap word has such a clear explanation for how it came about! めっちゃスッキリした！

However, スウェット and スウェットシャツ are also both commonly used in Japanese, meaning the same as トレーナー, so this is really only a problem while listening, not while speaking.⁷ It’s also worth noting that トレーナー does mean “trainer” as in like, a personal trainer. That’s where the weird word for sweatshirt comes from, after all.

Sources

[1] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OLpub5uXA1A

[2] https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/ソース_(調味料)

[3] https://www.kurashiru.com/articles/b3134417-fc0e-4782-a5d8-40932613ea79

[4] https://www.abc.net.au/news/2014-04-08/whaling-around-the-world-how-japans-catch-compares/5361954

[5] https://twitter.com/japanese_eng/status/1562198000411193345

[6] https://zatsuneta.com/archives/007218.html

[7] https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/スウェット

#langblr #japanese #japanese language #language #language learning #linguistics #learning japanese #trap words #jimmy blogthong

[gabessquishytum]

Hob is a food blogger with a large enough of a following that he's been awarded a cookbook deal. Dream is the editor of said cookbook and can't cook to save his life. Yada yada yada, Hob offers to teach Dream to cook with various degrees of success. Happy, smutty things ensue.

Ooo anything with Hob + Food gets me excited!

Dream is so snooty about the book at first! He’s all “cookbooks aren’t proper books, you’re just a celebrity trying to get more attention” and Hob just laughs at him, says that he’s definitely not a celebrity, and suggests that Dream should actually read the damn book. Which he does. And has to admit that it’s rather better than he expected.

Dream doesn’t admit to not knowing how to cook until they’re in a 2am editorial meeting and he burns the frozen pizza. Hob laughs at him AGAIN, and offers him a few basic lessons. Dream is humble enough to agree.

Hob teaches him how to make a stir fry, and Dream nearly has an anxiety attack because the pan is sizzling so LOUDLY. Hob coaches him through it, even helps him hold the spatula. It’s so intimate, Dream doesn’t even know why he’s bothering to hide his blushes. The stir fry comes out lovely but immediately gets forgotten because Hob has pinned Dream to the counter and kissed the soy sauce from the edge of his mouth.

(Hob makes Dream wash his hands because they go any further. Yes, they were using chilli peppers. Yes, Hob has experience with chilli hands + genitals.)

If good food is what makes Hob so incredibly sexy, then Dream is quite happy to learn to cook and start eating right. He’s obsessed with Hob’s flawless tanned skin, thick soft body hair, trim waist and soft little tummy. He’s not sure if he’s going to be able edit Hob’s book properly without adding in sentences about how sexy the man is. He’s in danger of turning the cookbook into an erotic novel.

Not that Hob would mind. Maybe that can be their next collaboration. When he’s finished bending Dream over the kitchen counter and rimming him until he sobs and begs for mercy…

#the sandman #dreamling #nsft

[fireflylitsky]

Okay, Akatsuki cooking Headcanons, are they good in the kitchen??? Itachi- What he’s learned to cook, he does so very well, but only knows a few simple recipes his mother taught him. He's a perfectionist and would rather master the egg flip than have an arsenal of ‘okay’ meals under his belt. 

Kisame- An absolute grill master. If you want rare, you get rare. Medium rare? No problem. All he needs to do is poke it with a finger and he knows just when to pull it off the grill. Ask him for well done and he’ll shame you the entire time it takes to cook, but yeah, he can do that too. He knows fancy spatula/tong flipping tricks and will show off even if no one’s looking. Hidan got him an apron that says “Fuck the cook” and Kisame wears it every chance he gets, and if he’s drunk enough, with nothing underneath.

Sasori- Food is for the weak.

Deidara- He definitely thinks he’s a good cook. The others refuse to eat his creations on the assertion that if he has mouths on his hands, it’s unsanitary, but really he just goes crazy with spices and hot sauce.

Hidan- Is Hidan good in the kitchen? Of course he is. The counter is the perfect height. When it comes to cooking though, he’s impatient and always cranks the heat, then whines when it tastes burnt. That doesn’t stop him from eating it, and it definitely doesn’t stop him from burning it next time either.

Kakuzu- No one has any clue if Kakuzu is a good cook because he won’t do it for anyone but himself. He buys the food he wants in the exact quantities required. None is ever wasted. He is a meal prep king and reserves a spot in the fridge for all his perfectly portioned leftovers. Anyone to touch them dies.

Konan- She knows the basics, but she’s a woman with a lot of shit to deal with, so she turns to instant ramen a lot. Whenever one of the guys teases her for not being a better cook, because apparently that’s expected of her, she will make them something purposefully disgusting and forces them to finish it. No one really says anything disparaging about her cooking anymore.

Nagato- Lol just no. The man knows nothing of cooking, but Konan ensures he eats.

Pein- As a corpse being piloted by an unhinged trauma-ridden friend, no. No, he is not much of a cook.

Zetsu- Doesn’t believe in cooking. 

Tobi/Obito- Tobi would not be a good cook. Obito knows this and loses a piece of his soul every time he has to purposely fuck up a meal just to stay in character, because Obito is actually quite a good cook. The man just wants to make beautiful, braised meats and savory soups and instead he’s stuck pretending to not know the difference between soy sauce and maple syrup. He pretends to enjoy sugar-filled, rainbow colored treats because that is what Tobi would like.

Orochimaru- This motherfucker is so extra. His cooking is gourmet. He fully intends on enjoying his immortal life and that means each meal should be a treat. Of course he gets busy and doesn’t always have time, in which case he opts for something quick and efficient—he has a whole ass recipe book for smoothies alone with all his favorites dog-eared and he tells Kabuto they taste better when he makes them.

(Thanks to @mooshi-png for the Kisame in that fucking apron hc lmao, it lives in my head permamently)

#Kisame #Itachi #Sasori #Deidara #Hidan #Kakuzu #Konan #Nagato #Pein #Obito #Tobi #Zetsu #Orochimaru #Kabuto #Akatsuki #Cookings Headcanons #No one needed this but here I am throwing it at you #Kisame would be the most fun to cook with #Hidan 100% spends more time fucking in a kitchen than cooking in it #Please someone just feed Nagato please I beg of you #I never intended to draw Orochimaru so cute what the hell #firefly art #firefly headcanons

[jake-g-lockley]

Could I request number 3 with Jake, with him as the cook? I hc him as a great chef!

A Smidge of Love (Jake Lockley x reader)

Masterlist | Spotify Playlist | Want to be tagged?

Prompt: Feeding you their cooking and hoping you will like it

A/N: Hi lovely!! Thanks for the ask<333 DOMESTIC JAKE AHHH omfg jake would make the most magnificent things and he’d rule the kitchen for sure. Here is him making the Guatemalan national dish, Pepián de Pollo!

Word count: 738 words

You woke up pretty late after last evening’s ordeal at work. It had been a tough few weeks and you finally got a chance to take your Sunday break. Before going to bed last night, you switched off all of your alarms and buried your head in your boyfriend’s chest, the comfort easing the tension out of you almost instantaneously. 

You frowned when you realised you woke up in an empty bed, your head cushioned by lots of pillows. You took a deep breath and sighed when the delicious aroma of food filled your nostrils. Quietly slipping out of bed, you tiptoed to the kitchen and found your boyfriend’s back turned to you, singing a soft song and dry roasting something.

You recognized the song, Cariño by The Marías

“Quiero tanto devorarte,

Esta vez besarte,

Si es que soy capaz.”

You slipped into the barstool silently and gazed lovingly at your oblivious Jake who was swaying slightly to his own singing. You were still dreamily staring at him with a smirk when he turned around and froze. He gulped audibly, his eyes comically wide as he held the tongs in his hands in a defensive stance

“Whatchu doing, Jakey?” you ask, tipping your chin down and raising your eyebrows at the funny expression that adorned his handsome face.

Jake offered you a dopey smile and shrugged, gesturing to the stove behind him.

“Making pepián de pollo, for you.” he said softly, a tinge of pink appearing on his cheeks.

You swore that at that moment, your heart melted at his cuteness. His hard outer shell was nothing compared to the soft mush that he held out for you every single day. You had nothing but love for him as your heart contracted almost painfully at the thought that he woke up thinking of you before making this.

“Need some help?” you asked, despite already knowing what Jake’s reaction would be.

You grinned when his eyebrows pinched together and he frowned, his lips dipping downwards.

“Shh, as long as I am here, my princesa doesn’t need to do anything.” he huffed and you laughed, tipping your head back, eliciting a smile from Jake.  

You waved the chef off and watched as he went on to prepare the dish.

You remember the first time he made pepián de pollo. It was a rainy London afternoon, the sun nowhere to be seen. You had been frowning at the constant bad weather you had been witnessing for weeks when Jake pulled you up from the sofa, scooping you into a bridal hold and dropping you onto the exact same barstool you were sitting on right now. He quietly worked around the kitchen, just as he did now, humming a soft melody, his hands working with the rhythm. You tried not to drool when he started to cut up his ingredients, that man certainly knew his way around a knife.

The sound of the food processor startled you out of your little flashback and you jumped slightly. Jake grinned at you apologetically and you smiled reassuringly back. While the chicken and sauce was simmering in the pot, Jake grabbed two beers and only popped one open and you glared at him when he didn’t offer you the other one.

“Not on an empty stomach, mi amor.” he chuckled before taking a sip. 

You playfully stuck your tongue out at him and he sticks his tongue out back at you, making you giggle. Soon, Jake was plating up the food, white rice and avocado in two plates for the both of you and the pepián de pollo looking as delicious as ever in a big bowl. You grinned happily and thanked Jake before tucking in, your stomach and heart satisfied with your first bite, but yearning for more.

“You like it?” Jake asked nervously and you sighed, sliding out of your seat and stepping between his feet, throwing your arms around his waist, hugging him close as you buried your nose into his sweater-clad chest.

“I love it, and I love you.” you mumbled into him and he relaxed, his whole body melting into yours as he held you against him. 

“I love you too.” he says into your hair, kissing the top of his head. 

“Ok, time for my tummy to be happy, I’ll give you a million kisses after I’m done!” you pulled away, causing Jake to chuckle at your usual antics.

Reblogs are appreciated ~~~

taglist: @fandxmslxt69 @randomnessfangirl @in-between-the-cafes @bodhisattva11 @marc-spectors-wife @nyotamalfoy @steven-grants-world @jbearre85 @whatsliferightnow @minigirl87 @wonderfulboiledcoldpotato @alexxavicry @autismsupermusicalassassin @flordelalunas @marygraceee @lia275 @euphoricosmo @sky-robin @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @sugarpunch-princess @violet-19999 @celiaswife @swiggy-needs-mental-help @ghostheartbeat @kierramofficial @ryebreadsworld @your-voice-is-mellifluous @lil-stark @absolutelybloodyhopeless @mintpurplemnm @spookyysilverr

#moon knight #jake lockley #jake lockely x reader #jake lockley x y/n #jake lockley fluff #moon knight fluff #jake lockley x you #jake lockley fanfiction #jake lockley imagine #jake lockley smut #jake lockley x fem!reader #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x f!reader #jake lockley x female!reader #moon knight fanfic #moon knight headcanon #steven grant #marc spector #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #marvel moon knight #moon knight smut #moon knight headcanons #moon knight x reader #moonkight #moonknight smut #steven grant smut #marc spector smut #steven grant fluff #marc spector fluff

[intotheseas]

so I know this is primarily a HL blog but I do have a Stardew Valley fic in the works and wanted to post a little excerpt of the first chapter. CW: Drug use referenced, abuse, catcalling. Story takes place around 2006.

Sage is fucking soaked. Her t-shirt clings to her slight frame and her teeth chatter. A chilly February rain hammers Zuzu City. And as if Joja needed to give her any more “fuck yous”, someone stole her umbrella during her shift. The downpour drenched her as soon as she left the dingy mid-rise building.

So here she is, sodden, freezing, and miserable. Her back aches from hunching over a computer all day. But Yoba’s not done fucking with Sage yet. A car speeds by, honking. Tosses a wave of filthy water over her jeans, soaking into her sneakers. Super cool, she thinks. The air stinks of exhaust fumes, piss, and wet dog. Skyscrapers tower around her, like predators closing in. 

“Hey baby! You wanna have a good time? That shirt would look better on the ground!” Two men call to her from a dark alley. They’re much older, balding, with guts that hang out of their stained shirts. Hard hats and safety vests over top. Construction workers, but they’re not doing a lot of working. Keep walking, she tells herself. Look like you’re on a mission. Ignore them. The men jeer after her as she walks past, head held high. “Ehh, you’re not worth it, anyway! Be that way, bitch!” Sage runs across a crosswalk, dodging cars. The voices fade. 

It’s payday, which should cheer her up. But her already skimpy paycheck doesn’t stretch far. Rent’s due, and so are bills. After that, she’s left with around $100 for food for the next couple of weeks. She’s got a small savings squirreled away, one her parents don't know about, but that's reserved for emergencies.

Sage’s shoes squelch against concrete as she steps into her apartment building. From one shoddy mid-rise to another. Chips cover the brick exterior. The inside’s no better. Old, stained wallpaper, probably from the 60s at the latest, peels in the corners of the mailroom. Stinks of dirty shoes and smoke. The dark red carpet’s threadbare under her feet. She climbs the creaking stairs to her apartment, two floors up. 

The door’s stuck again. Something the landlord promised to fix. Years ago. She slams her hip against it, forces it open. Sage toes off her sodden shoes. Her stomach’s screaming at her, but there’s nothing in the fridge but a container of baking soda and some expired soy sauce. The cupboards are even emptier. She sighs. Does that a lot, especially lately. The lights are dim in the living room. She glances in, scowls at the scene waiting for her. Like rag dolls, Sage’s parents drape over the ratty couch. Passed out, like usual.

Shattered bottles litter the scuffed wooden floor. A dark bruise blooms around her mother's eye, but she’s too out of it to respond when Sage asks if she’s okay. She already knows what happened. It’s the same old story. Her parents took too much of their drug of the day. Her father always gets violent when he’s drunk or high. She’s been at the receiving end enough times to know by now. 

Used needles lay with the bits of glass, carelessly discarded. Plates of half-eaten food litter the old coffee table. Flies buzz around them. The stench washes over her like a wave. Sage holds her wet shirt over her nose. Her stomach roils. Nothing new at home. This is how it’s been since Sage turned 14 and her parents decided work was less important than drugs. She’s supported them since then.

It was disgustingly easy to find a corporation to hire an obvious 14-year-old lying about her age. And that’s how the past eleven years have passed. Sage considers herself lucky - she at least graduated from high school. Not everyone who lives in this part of Zuzu has that privilege. It got easier after that, after she didn’t have to balance both work and studies. So here she is again. Same shit, different day.

She tiptoes into her room, eases the door shut. She’ll mail the rent check while she goes back out to find food. Sage digs around in the drawers of her desk, looking for some spare bills and change. An envelope catches her eye. Old birthday card? She grabs it. Maybe there’s money inside. A letter falls out. The handwriting is flowery, meticulous in its tidiness. 

Sage, 

There may come a time when the world is too much for you. If that happens, use this. 

I know your life isn’t easy. If you’re ready to start over, I’ve left my farm in Pelican Town to you. Use it as you see fit. 

I love you,

Grandpa Charlie

Sage stares at the letter, hazy memories coming into focus. Her grandpa died about three years ago. She didn’t even go to his funeral, couldn’t get time off of work. Couldn’t afford to lose her job. They were never close, but she remembers visiting him on his farm a few times as a kid. Before the drugs completely took over her parents’ lives. She frowns. How could she have forgotten this? Inside the envelope is a deed, signed with her name.

Minutes pass as Sage stares at the paper. You know what? Fuck this. She grabs her bag, tucks the papers into it. Scrounges up a few dollars in cash. She tiptoes back into the living room. Her father snores softly. Sage pries open the front door and takes the steps down two at a time. 

Outside, the rain’s let up a little. It’s a light mist now, little droplets hovering in the air. Still stinks of piss and fumes. Sage jogs a few blocks down the sidewalk and hails a left, ducking into the library. She walks to a computer and types in the address from the deed into Google. Pelican Town is a few hours away by bus. There’s even a website. It’s quaint. Looks like someone made it in the mid nineties and hasn’t updated it since. There’s a phone number for a “Mayor Lewis” at the bottom of the webpage. Sage punches it into her phone and leaves the library, presses the call button. It rings for almost a minute. She’s about to hang up when a gruff voice answers. 

“This is Lewis. Who am I speaking to?” 

She almost drops the phone. Her hands tremble. Adrenaline’s coursing through her. “Uh, hi. My name is Sage. Sage Sandoval. I found your number on your website. Um, I have a deed to a farm outside your town? It belonged to Charles Sandoval. He left it to me in his will.” 

Lewis grunts. “Ah! Old Charlie. Was awful sad when he passed. Well, if you have the deed, the land’s yours. Are you looking to sell it?” 

“No! Er, no. I want to live there. Is the house still standing?” Sage drums her fingers on the back of her phone. She can remember bits and pieces of the farmhouse. It’s simple, one room with a large bay window and a kitchen and bathroom. But it’s away from here.

Lewis clears his throat. “It is, though not in the best condition. The land’s pretty overgrown, too. Are you sure you want to live there?” 

“Yes. When’s the soonest I can arrive?” She shifts from one foot to the other, glancing around the litter-filled streets.

There’s a pause. “Tomorrow, I suppose. I can send our resident carpenter over the day after to make sure the wiring is still sound.” 

Sage lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “Great, thanks. I’ll arrive tomorrow by bus. I’ll call you when I’m close.” She snaps her phone shut. This is happening. She’s getting the fuck out of Zuzu City.

On her way back, she grabs an energy drink and bag of chips from a vending machine. Her fingers twitch against the can as she downs her paltry meal. She’s never done something like this before. Run away. It feels kind of silly to think of it like that. She’s twenty-five, after all. If not for her miserable excuses for parents, she would have had a place of her own years ago.

Sage almost feels like a kid again, about to walk into trouble as she steps back into the dingy apartment. Her parents haven’t moved a bit since she left. They’re out cold, probably will be for the rest of the night. Good. She begins to pack.

I won't flood this blog with updates, just wanted to post a quick WIP! It'll be farmerxSebastian focused, but also a story of moving on, healing from trauma, and learning to love and connect with people. Each chapter will also be titled after an indie song from the era - music will have a central theme through the story, sometimes overtly, sometimes more behind the scenes. :)

#stardew valley fanfic #stardew valley #sdv sebastian #stardew sebastian #sebastian x farmer #writeblr #creative writing #stardew farmer

[mariusroyale]

a list of things Donnie does after the movie

- hes putting extra shit on their panic buttons and fuck it extra watches too. he’s monitoring your goddamn vitals, heart rate and whatever the fuck else he can

- extra protocols

- extra escape pods (because he threw up after hearing what raph did)

- additional trackers

- he doesn’t sleep bc of this because. fuck that, if he is able he is helping his goddamn family.

- he can’t wear his battleshells but that’s okay his spider arms has a protocol called ‘potential amputation/temporary immobilisation support’ or PATIS for short

- he doesn’t have to wear it for it to function like normal arms hA

- it’s later dubbed the soy sauce protocol because i said so

- he once just passes out at his desk and gets moved to his bed

- later on stocks up on energy drinks in the mini fridge he installed for the sake of convenience (and not letting the others know how often he’s getting them)

- definitely doesn’t think about the tendrils

- nope

- not thinking about them

- on an unrelated note hes asking mikey to attach himself on him like a brother battleshell

- and in a separate note hes asking raph for hugs

- lingers around Leo bc 1. u think u get to be alone after that stunt you pulled?? nOPE 2. it’s comforting even though he’s just recovering and watching tiktoks 3. mikey’s there too, so it’s nice

- he knows why raph hasn’t even looked at him

- doesn’t make it easier considering the comfort of their big brother went a long way when they were kids

- now raph just hangs in his room and only comes out when he eats or needs another check up- where he only talks and looks at the genius when he asks him questions ://

- he also checks with Casey to see what kind of advancements he made to his tech that he could use to ward off potential threats in this future

- and definitely doesn’t think about how he dies in the other one

- definitely doesn’t think about how his role as the protector with his tech is sullied when he’s dead

- definitely doesn’t think about forming a replacement for himself in the event of that bad future ever coming to fruition

- he sleeps next to Leo when mikey’s busy

- “aw you love me that much?” “yes, because all of you almost died” “i-“

- only gets a good night’s sleep like maybe once

- the only reason Leo’s able to pass out easier despite being their other resident insomniac is bc he’s under meds that make him all drowsy

- he tries not to think about the damage all his brothers have: raph’s shell and eye, leo’s body, mikey’s hands

- April once catches him falling apart at his desk and they have a talk

- he gets another good night’s rest there

#rise donnie #rottmnt #text post #rottmnt movie #rottmnt post movie #i love characters that use their tech to help #because you know damn well the sleepless nights they harbour being wracked with anxiety trying to predict certain outcomes and prep for them

[v-thinks-on]

Phoenix watches with growing curiosity as Miles scrambles an egg and sautes some meat and vegetables with soy sauce and sake. Phoenix is sitting at the tall counter that separates Miles’s kitchen from his dining room in his excessively fancy apartment. He’s still a little surprised Miles invited him over at all, forget the impossible domesticity of Miles at the stove with an apron on, his sleeves rolled up to avoid any splatter, keeping a careful eye on the pan.

The seasonings are pretty simple, but the cooking meat smells delicious with the starchy undercurrent of rice. When Miles deems the meat and vegetables done, he takes them off the heat and delicately slides them all onto a cutting board to cut it all up into little pieces.

“... Are you making rice balls?” Phoenix finally asks.

“I assumed it’s the sort of thing you’d have for lunch.” Miles doesn’t look up from his determined chopping.

“Oh, yeah,” Phoenix says, adding another impossibility to the list. A smile slowly spreads across his face as his surprise at Miles’s thoughtfulness turns into warmth.

Finally, the rice finishes cooking, and Miles sets about seasoning and shaping. It’s then that the flaw in Miles’s plan becomes all too apparent.

“How is this so difficult?” Miles demands, staring at rice-covered hands. “I used to do this all the time before…”

It hadn’t even crossed Phoenix’s mind that such a simple lunch food might have some extra significance for Miles. “I remember that.”

Miles glances up like he’d forgotten about Phoenix. “You were there…”

“Yeah, I came over a lot after that class trial, since my parents weren’t around much…” Phoenix hastily changes the subject to something a little lighter, “Do you want me to show you how to do it? I still make them for lunch.”

While Miles goes to wash the rice off of his hands, Phoenix crosses the kitchen to the neat row of bowls that Miles was glaring at. The rice looks a little like a warzone, while the toppings are still untouched.

“First, we need a bowl of water to keep the rice from sticking to our hands.”

“How could I forget?” Miles says bitterly.

Miles gets a little bowl, fills it with water, and they both dip their hands in so they’re dripping.

“Now take some rice, like this.” Phoenix says, grabbing some from the bowl and Miles follows suit. “That looks about right.”

“This feels ridiculous.” Miles has a handful of rice awkwardly cupped in his hands that he’s trying, without much luck, to try to squish together.

On an impulse, Phoenix puts aside his wad of rice, which he’s already shaped into a little sphere. “Here, let me show you.” He closes the distance between them and wraps his hands around Miles’s with some thought of nudging them into place.

Miles startles at the contact, but he doesn’t pull away, just stares intently down at their hands. “G-go on.”

Phoenix gingerly enfolds Miles’s long, narrow hands in his own broader ones. Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised that Miles’s muscles, from his fingers into his palm, are all taut with tension that probably never goes away.

Phoenix isn’t really sure what he’s doing; he tries to mime the familiar motion, pressing gently on Miles’s hands, guiding them one way and then the other, but he can only barely tell what’s going on with the rice underneath. He’s mostly just aware of how Miles’s hands start to feel warm and smooth in his own as the water drips away.

“Make sure it’s tight,” Phoenix says belatedly, because he doesn’t know how much he’s actually getting across, and how much Miles is just humoring his unorthodox teaching method.

When Phoenix finally pulls away, Miles’s hands part to reveal a rough ball of rice.

“You should stick to law,” Miles says, but he delicately puts the somewhat haphazard rice ball on the serving plate anyway.

“Hey, I’ll have you know I make perfectly good rice balls!”

To prove his point, Phoenix dips his hands in the water again and picks back up his little ball of rice. He shapes it into a sort of rough bowl, puts in a bit of the meat mixture, covers it up with some more rice, and presses it into a triangle in automatic, familiar motions.

“See!” Phoenix presents the completed rice ball to Miles.

Only then is he aware of how intently Miles has been watching him the whole time. Miles stares at the rice ball for a moment before gingerly accepting it, as though he’s afraid to break it, and adding it to the plate.

#v writes #Ace Attorney #Phoenix Wright #Miles Edgeworth #WrightWorth #NaruMitsu #this was originally going to be a scene in In Defense of the Guilty but I think it works better on its own

[pan-de-queer]

x marks the spot (where i left my heart) [supercorp]

Genre: Fluff, First Kiss, Getting Together

Summary:

Because of Lena, Kara’s learned that permanence is tangible. Real. Permanence feels soft and cool and callous on the tips of her thumbs. Permanence is gentle and purposeful and trembles when she kisses its forehead. Permanence runs slender fingers through her hair and whispers sarcastic commentary in her ear. Permanence feels a lot like love.

Or: Lena uses her riches for gay good, Kara uses her words, and everyone gets a hug and kiss.

Author's Note: finally finished the day 3 prompt for my "100 ways to say i love you" series for supercorp! prompt is "no, no, it's my treat." lmk what y'all thouggghhttt

ao3

x marks the spot (where i left my heart)

Kara had never realized how often Lena did it until Alex had pointed it out one day.

They were all hanging out at the alien bar one Friday night when a plate of cheese-covered fries was placed right in front of her. Kara had looked up at the waitress with a crinkle between her brows but before she could even ask, the waitress gave her a knowing smile. “Your lady over there told me you’ll need double of that tonight.”

The waitress left her with a steaming plate of fries that she reflexively protected from Nia’s thieving grasp despite the crinkle never easing. Kara craned her neck and easily found her supposed benefactor leaning casually against the bar counter waiting for their drinks.

It wasn’t the first time Lena had ever ordered food for her, but it always left a warm feeling in Kara’s stomach to know that Lena knew her so well.

Lena could rattle off every single one of her favorite food orders by heart now—from the extra cheese and bacon in her burgers at Big Belly to the drop of chili oil and quarter lemon squeezed into her soy sauce for her potstickers to the extra pepper sprinkled on to her morning eggs.

There was something intimate and vulnerable about someone knowing her so well that they know the way she likes to eat her food, knows what Kara needs before she (or her stomach)’s even said it, knows what’ll cheer her up or get her to calm down, knows how to convince her to eat healthy even if she doesn’t really need it. Something intimate about the way Lena knows her—in all the ways Kara’s learned to know Lena as well.

She knows that Lena loves only the simplest of sauces to go with her salads. She knows Lena hates salmon in almost the same way Kara hates kale (and most green veggies) but is way too polite to ever complain about it if left with no other meal choice (unlike Kara, who may or may not have faked a Supergirl emergency to escape such a fate or five). Knows that Lena likes her coffee black but likes a splash of milk in her tea (Lena says it’s different when it’s tea but Kara’s not quite convinced). Knows that Lena forgets to eat when she’s stressed out with work and projects, or when she’s sad and has more alcohol than blood running through her veins, or when she’s angry and works more on trying to fix the solution than on feeding herself, or when she’s overly excited and she forg—

Okay, so Lena’s dietary habits definitely need to be improved, but the point is—

Kara and Lena have known each other for almost six years now, and in that time, they’ve both made the effort to learn the little and big things about each other. Despite the secrets and heartbreak and hurt, despite the stilted conversations and painful rebuilding, despite the uncertainty and shy hope, somehow, some way, they’d managed to keep the things they knew about each other safe. Treasured. Sacred.

“What are you smiling at?” Nia’s voice broke through her thoughts, smug and knowing and smirk-y.

Kara could only elbow her away (because she wasn’t staring at Lena, she was just making sure the bartender remembered all their drinks) just as the last drink was placed on Lena’s tray. She shot Nia a quick, half-hearted glare before quickly turning back to her fries and eating.

Not to hide the blooming heat on her cheeks or anything, obviously. Her fries were just getting cold.

Cheers erupted from their friends when Lena arrived, a flurry of hands moving to pass each other their respective glasses and bottles. Kara watched the quick grabs for barely a minute before Lena placed the almost-empty tray in front of her fries, everyone having left their drinks alone.

“Enjoying the appetizer, darling?” Lena asked as Kara pulled out the empty chair right next to her. With chipmunk-cheeks puffing up her face, Kara nodded happily as she swallowed the greasy saltiness down, wiping her hands on her pants as she reached for her pocket.

“It’s great! Let me pay you back; how much did it cost?” Kara pulled her wallet out of her pocket, but before she could even open it, cold pale hands closed over hers as Lena chuckled and shook her head, “It’s my treat, darling.”

Kara whined half-heartedly, “It’s always your treat!” 

“Well, I’ve always been a billionaire since I met you.” Lena laughed, her cheeky smirk making Kara blush. “It’s only fair considering the number of times you’ve saved me.”

“That’s not even remotely the same!”

“Was it not you that said the way to your good graces was through your stomach?”

“I said the way to my heart was through good food. Besides, you’re always in my good graces.” And you’ve been in my heart since the day we met, Kara’s traitorous brain piped up, blue eyes determinedly keeping away from the mind-reading Martian on the other side of the table (most times, Kara felt like J’onn could still read her thoughts despite her Kryptonian genes). Thankfully, Lena’s warm laughter kept her occupied.

“Touching, darling, but just accept the fries.”

Kara pouted in reply, stuffing a handful of fries into her mouth petulantly as Lena hummed in non-apology.

It was nice.

Being the sole focus of Lena’s attention was really, really nice.

As the night got darker and the day got later, the Superfriends started bowing out one by one, promising to see each other the following week on game night. Soon enough, it’s just Kara, Lena, Alex, and Kelly.

“Take care, you two,” Kelly gave them each a hug, Kelly giving Lena another squeeze of a hug before she stepped out to inform the babysitter that she and Alex were on their way back.

It was Alex’s turn right after, her sister pulling them both in a hug before making Kara promise to make it to sister night this coming week. As the pair watched Alex disappear out the door, Lena nudged Kara’s shoulder with her own. She tried not to shiver at the way long, cold fingers slid down her forearm, tracing the lines of her palm before Kara tangled their fingers together and Lena replied with a gentle squeeze (and Kara’s always amazed at how Lena is always so, so gentle with her. Sometimes Kara wonders if she forgets that she’s Supergirl. Most times, she’s thankful for it).

“Let’s go home?” Lena asked, head tilted as if Kara had any other answer.

“Yeah, let’s go home.”

-

All that had happened a week ago. Now, it’s Sister’s Night and Alex is demanding they watch a thriller movie since Kara had missed last week’s sister night to spend time with Lena (no regrets). Kara vehemently argues the psychological repercussions of making her watch a thriller but Alex isn’t having it. She’s stuffed the remote into her bra before diving face first into the couch, clutching it for dear life despite the fact that Kara can easily pry her off of it.

In the end, Kara gives in after only a couple more protests and a complaint-filled text to her best friend.

Thankfully, after Kara had texted Lena her Sister Night woes, Lena sends five orders of potstickers and two boxes of pizza to get her through the film. As soon as the orders arrive, she grabs the food and places everything on the counter, too busy checking each delivery to realize that she’s minutes away from getting grilled (or lovingly questioned, according to Alex).

Her Alex-senses are dulled at the sight of printed writing stuck on slips of paper taped to each order. The potstickers’ note reads “good luck, hero x” and the pizza’s “as always, these are both my treat xo.”

Kara folds the notes up with a pleased little grin, pocketing each paper before pulling out plates and glasses for their movie night dinner. She doesn’t notice how quiet Alex is as her older sister helps transfer the food onto the coffee table.

Kara’s already four pizza slices and twelve potstickers in when Alex finally tries to ask her anything.

Alex’s words come out slow and careful. “It was very generous of Lena to send over all this food.”

Her eyes narrow at the tone, suspicious of the questions hidden under the statement. “…Yes? She’s always generous.”

“I noticed,” Alex’s voice is wry, smile just as dry as she places her second slice of pizza down on her plate.

Kara feels that prickle of defensiveness start to bubble up at Alex’s pointed reply, but her sister continues before she can butt in. “But she’s always been a little more generous with you.”

“We’re best friends! Best friends can give each other gifts whenever they want to.”

“Really? ‘Cause my best friend’s never bought out half a restaurant for me.”

“This is far from half a restaurant, Alex.”

“I was talking about that time she rented out Uncle Chen’s for the night because you were finally feeling better about the whole Mon-El thing.”

She huffs, potstickers no longer as appetizing as when they started. “So? Lena likes doing nice things for her friends!”

“I don’t recall Lena buying out Big Belly for me, or buying Winn that fancy new tech toy they’d been geeking out about together, or getting Kelly that new sundress they’d seen at the mall. I’m not saying she wouldn’t if we asked, but Kara, you never have to ask for her to give you things. She just does.”

“You make it sound like a bad thing.”

“The opposite, actually. You mean something to her, Kara. And I’m pretty sure she means something to you, too.”

Kara’s mouth flounders, the words on the tip of her tongue too far out of reach. “She’s…”

Her friend.

Her best friend.

Her favorite.

Her rock.

Her hero.

Her—

“Everything.” Kara finds herself settling on the word that still doesn’t feel enough.

Being in love with Lena isn’t new, she knows, but saying it out loud definitely is. Saying it out loud feels like daring Rao to take Lena from her just like he took Krypton. Saying it out loud feels like begging for a miracle as your entire world collapses before your eyes. Saying it out loud feels like begging for air after being stuck in a timeless piece of space for twenty four years.

Saying it out loud feels like a prayer.

Like a promise.

Like it’s permanent.

It’s such a strange thing to feel. Ever since she’s arrived on Earth, Kara’s had a little timer ticking in the back of her mind. She’s lost Kyrpton, she’s lost her role as her cousin’s protector, she’s lost Astra, Adam, Jeremiah, Mon-El—some days she feels like she’s waiting for everything else to slip away, too.

Permanence has always felt like the tide, impossible to catch but easy to watch. Easy to stare at in longing as it laps at one's toes only to pull away again and again and again.

Alex and Eliza have made it easier to touch—easier to feel a lick of permanence wash over her every time they cuddle up for Danvers’ (sister’s) night or pick up her calls. Her new family’s made it all a little easier, too. Knowing that Winn and James and J’onn and Lucy and Kelly and Esme and M’Gann were all there to support her, cheer her on, and just be there has helped to ease the weight in her chest over the past few years.

And Lena.

Lena’s probably made it the easiest for her to imagine—to hope.

To hope that maybe permanence was unlimited access to a CEO’s office only weeks after meeting, or gala invites with potstickers on the menu despite the michelin star service, or wanting to stay to talk things through when you disagree on things (and being able to see their side, too), or being someone’s hero outside of her suit, or risking your secret identity when you think their life’s in danger, or realizing that you’re jealous of their ex, or them choosing you and you choosing them. Over and over and over again.

Because of Lena, Kara’s learned that permanence is tangible. Real.

Permanence feels soft and cool and callous on the tips of her thumbs. Permanence is gentle and purposeful and trembles when she kisses its forehead. Permanence runs slender fingers through her hair and whispers sarcastic commentary in her ear. Permanence says it hates dancing but dances with her anyways. Permanence forgets to eat sometimes but always makes time to have lunch with her.

Permanence texts her good morning and sweet dreams every single day. Permanence holds her close and cries when she cries. Permanence makes mistakes and apologizes and does its best to be better. Permanence makes her laugh and smile and feel light and floaty.

Permanence feels a lot like love.

Permanence acts a lot like Lena.

“Alex,” Kara breathes as if the air’s been knocked out of her. This isn’t new. It isn’t. And yet.

And yet.

“I love her.”

It’s different.

“I’m in love with her.”

Alex lets her head fall on to her shoulder as Kara reels with the weight of the words on her tongue for the first time in her life. It isn’t new. Her love. But the taste of it on her tongue is like potstickers after a crappy day. Heaven-sent. Galaxy-bending. Everything.

Alex pulls her close as a shaky breath leaves her lips. She can feel her sister drop a kiss on her head before murmuring, “Then maybe it’s time you let her know that.”

-

Kara decides to tell Lena that Friday.

She asks J’onn (and Alex) for that day off and they gladly tell her not to come in for anything less than the apocalypse. She asks Jess to make sure Lena doesn’t get any surprise meetings or extra paperwork and finds the task done within the hour. She finishes her work as fast as humanly possible and emails it to Lois to check over real quick just to ensure that Snapper doesn’t force her to redo it another seven times (Snapper makes her redo it only twice, which is a record all on its own, really). The second she’s done with work, Kara flies out for a little round-the-world supply run: pasta and pizza from Italy, Bailey’s cheesecake from Ireland, wine from Argentina, and a quick stop to South Korea for a potsticker or fifty.

When she gets back home, she unloads all the food on her kitchen counter and speeds her way through a quick shower and into a panicked phone call with Alex on what she should wear (“Anything is fine, Kara, seriously. You could wear a trash bag and Lena would still find a way to stare at your arms.” It doesn’t really help, but Alex takes some pity on her and they settle on a crisp blue button down and black slacks).

She feels a little more confident after Kelly and Esme compliment her (their, Alex corrects) outfit choice, so by the time Kara’s stored away the dessert, chilled the wine, and reheated their main meal, she feels a lot less jittery about the conversation she hopes to have tonight.

She’s mostly over her freaking-out-phase, but a knot of nerves stay seated firmly in her stomach.

She doesn’t want to back out. She doesn’t want to do this, either.

It’s almost twenty minutes later when she hears Lena’s heartbeat arrive at her street minutes before six thirty (the earliest time she and Jess could get Lena out of her meetings). Kara smooths down the front of her shirt as she waits for Lena to climb the steps of her apartment, wringing her fingers as she fights the urge to fly down and pick Lena up herself. The nerves that had fluttered in her stomach earlier that morning have turned into a twisting grind of excitement and anticipation.

No matter the outcome of her confession today, Kara knows that she can trust Lena not to pull away from her completely.

They’ve gone through too much for either of them to just walk away from each other now.

With that little thought of assurance settled deep in her chest, Kara feels the tension in her shoulders drop the slightest bit as Lena’s knock finally reaches her front door.

As soon as Kara opens the door, she feels her lips stretch into a wide grin. On the other side of the door, Lena’s smiling back just as brightly, a (stolen) oversized sweater and loose jeans making her look small and cozy.

“Hi,” Kara breathes, reaching out instinctively to pull Lena into a hug. Lena burrows into her in reply, warm lips ghosting over her collarbone as Kara hears her whisper the words back.

“Missed you,” Lena adds and Kara feels her heart flutter at the admission, feels like the universe is expanding in her chest. She tries to stifle her grin as Lena slowly pulls away but ultimately fails.

Kara repeats the sentiment before ushering Lena inside as a newfound excitement starts to build in her chest. Lena’s here. And she missed her. How can she not want to shout out her love now?

With a little anticipation shaking her fingers, Kara helps Lena with her coat before leading her to the couch.

On the coffee table, as neatly presentable as she could get it, is the little international dinner she’d managed to scrounge up. With a dramatic wave of her hands, she exclaims, “Ta-da!”

She hears Lena gasp before she sees blue-green eyes flit around the table, red lips stretching wider with every plate of food it lands on. Lena’s fingers wrap around her wrist and slide down to tangle with Kara’s own, squeezing her hand as she turns to see a blinding grin. “Kara, this is just—amazing, but, and I’m grateful for this, really, but did I miss a special occasion? I know it isn’t my birthday or yours.”

Kara feels her stomach flutter at the way Lena’s head tilts, red lips twisted into a bewildered smile. Lena’s just so cute. All the time. Especially now.

She fumbles for glasses that aren’t on her face and settles on tucking some hair behind her ear instead. Kara shakes away the breathlessness in her throat and smiles, “No, no special occasion. It’s just—you’re always treating me. Thought it was time to return the favor.”

(And Kara would never admit it, but seeing Lena’s smile light up her entire face, teary eyes shining over her scrunched nose, is more than enough reason for her to do this all over again.)

Lena’s laugh is giddy as they move to the couch. Each grabbing a plate as Lena smiles. “If I didn’t know any better, Kara Zor-El. I’d think this was a bribe.”

“Can’t a girl treat her favorite…” the word person dies off her lips as her world slows down at the sight of Lena’s childish grin as she grabs a slice of pizza, sauce and oil dripping into her palm before Lena dips down and licks it. A long pink tongue darting out and twi—

“Your favorite, huh?”

Kara feels the heat in her stomach jump to her face, blue eyes ducking to hide behind blonde hair as she lets out a sharp, breathy laugh. Lena’s soft red lips are twisted in clear amusement and the teasing brow Lena quirks her way does nothing to ease the butterflies in her stomach.

Still, despite the heat bursting to the tips of her ears, Kara knows that it’s impossible to reply any differently. Honesty, they promised.

So she shrugs. Because it’s obvious. “Yeah.” Inevitable. “My favorite.”

Lena blushes despite the beaming smile that takes up her face, the pleasant surprise evident in her crinkled green eyes.

“Well,” Lena smiles, crooked and dopey and entirely too endearing. “You’re my favorite, too, Kara Zor-El.”

And they could go on forever, Kara knows—their affection for each other thick and tangible and never-ending, but Kara’s stomach chooses that exact moment to protest the millennia of waiting for food and breaks whatever tension filled the room.

They spend the rest of the night trading stories about their week, laughing in between fresh pasta and pizza. Kara feels herself melting into the moment, Lena’s knee pressing into her thigh, dim lights turning green eyes golden, warmth climbing from her chest to her cheeks. There’s a buzzing in her veins—a staticky mix of nerves and calm and excitement and fear. Fear of the unknown. Of rejection. Of heartbreak.

And yet.

Lena always made her braver. Stronger. More hopeful.

Kara could always hope. Hope for nothing to change. For an answer. For the best.

So it’s after they’ve eaten dessert (Lena enjoying her one and a half slice and Kara her four)—stomachs full and spirits sated, a documentary about space playing out in front of them—that Kara gathers the courage to finally, just—say it.

“I love you, y’know?” Kara tries for casual and falls short by a mile.

Lena tilts her head at her confession, smile soft but eyes swimming with something.

“I know,” Lena replies, soft. Honest. Close. “I love you, too.”

And, oh, how sweet a fact? A universal truth? An unbreakable oath?

“Well,” Kara exhales, the tightness in her chest mixed with fear and love and hope. “Do you know I’m in love with you?”

Lena pauses, the emotions flitting through her face too fast for Kara to name, and then. Lena settles on just one.

Lena looks at her with stars in her eyes and a trembling smile. She looks at her as if she’s given her a cup of Colombian coffee seconds after she’s woken up. She looks at her as if she’s just solved quantum gravity. She looks at her as if she’s given her the biggest hug after a long day.

Lena looks at her as if she knows.

It’s a look that makes Kara lean in, a moth to a flame. A sailor to the sea. Kara Zor-El to Lena Luthor.

She leans in just as Lena laughs—voice wet but smile impossibly bright—and Kara can taste the way she whispers, “I’d hoped.”

Kara pulls back just enough to see Lena’s eyes falling to her lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And then Lena closes the distance and kisses her. Deep and slow and everything.

-

“Was this whole—” Lena hums, snuggles closer into Kara’s side—the documentary they’d been watching rewound to the start because they’d missed more than half of it. “—around-the-world treat your big romantic gesture?”

And she snorts out a laugh because, well, she isn’t wrong.

“It was part of it.” Kara gives the covered pale hip she’s holding an affectionate, happy little squeeze. So, so happy. “How’d I do?”

“Eleven out of five stars.” Lena beams, stretching up to peck her on the lips before settling back into her side.

And as Janna Levin continues to explain what happens in blackholes on the dimmed screen in front of them, Kara pulls Lena impossibly closer and thinks that she’d never been more right.

This does all feel unstoppably permanent.

#cw supergirl #supercorp #lena luthor #kara danvers #my writing #queer bread writes #supercorp fics #supercorp fic #supercorp fanfic #amazed at two fics in one year #send me claps and snaps y'all

[wwrenwrites]

Jason Todd x Filipino! reader headcanons

A/n: i don’t care if this will be my most flopped post, I had to do God’s work

He would LOVE Filipino food

Jason is pretty open with food considering he has traveled frequently for work.

Being accustomed to seeing rice available even if it’s high in carbs lol. Started as a pancit (stir fried noodles) boy to a BIG garlic rice boy ever since you’ve introduced him to it.

Could see him really liking champorado (chocolate rice porridge) for some reason, since there is something so homey about it. Plus it’s not that sweet. He definitely have tried it with tuyo (salted dried fish) when you mentioned it but prefers it just the champorado alone.

Jason enjoys Jollibee most specifically the fried chicken, both of you have movie nights with a bucket on the coffee table with pineapple juice or alcohol. Would find Filipino spaghetti ‘meh’ cause it’s a bit too sweet for his liking but he wouldn’t mind it after a few more tries since there’s that child-like taste that makes it addicting.

Would 100% love lumpiang shanghai (Filipino spring rolls) and quotes as he explains it to Roy or any of his brothers ‘a way better version of Chinese spring rolls’, just like how you told him. He stops craving for the usual spring rolls if you guys go for Chinese take outs from then on.

Despite what the media depicts of having adobo (soy sauce & vinegar chicken stew), sinigang (tamarind stew) or ube hyped. He does think Filipino food is still very underrated compared to Thai, Chinese, Japanese etc.

Could also see him enjoying clear soup stews like pork sinigang & bulalo (clear soup with beef shanks & bone marrow) because of the homey taste versus the flavored stews but he definitely still enjoys them (also see him being a big kare- kare (peanut butter stew) lover by your influence.

Like every other man, he would be a sucker for San Miguel beer. He knew about it even before both of you were dating since there is a small Filipino town in Gotham. Considering he goes to different bars from time to time. He would enjoy the concept of food on sizzling plate but it would take time for him to actually try exotic street food specially Balut (duck embryo) lol. But he’s down for it!

Spicy White Boy

Canon- wise, he knows Portuguese and there are lots of similar words with Spanish. Which I’m sure he knows maybe the most basic and common sense ones; so Jason understanding a good amount of Tagalog shouldn’t be surprising but would baffle you when you find out he started learning bit by bit for you.

It is very impressive indeed, there are not a lot of good resources in studying it. However, Jason is a Wayne and if his father was able to learn Kryptonian. He would easily be in a level of fluency by time.

And being the intelligent simp he is. He would understand it in a good level in less than a year or two when both of you are pretty much ‘all in’ in the relationship. Especially when you brought up one time before you were both exclusive, that you were scared of the idea of your partner being left out in family events even if English is pretty much the second main language in the Philippines.

Though I feel he would have more confidence in trying to speak the language after a few more years including a few slangs cause he doesn’t want to handle the anxiety of being roasted by your family & friends even if he obviously has thick-ass skin.

You keep telling him that he has already won his parents approval (too fast) when he swoon them with just the use of ‘po’ and ‘opo’ the first time meeting them. Plus the very occasional whispers of ‘gwapo’ , handsome, or ‘matangkad’, tall, here and there would give him a mix of a sheepish ego boost.

Culture Differences

THE ‘NO SHOES IN THE HOUSE’ RULE is a mutual practice that both of you have no problem doing. It has always been a routine for Jason when he gets home and right away he would wash up just so he could be in bed with you.

The no shoes rule seems to be only followed by Alfred when he drops by with groceries for him in his apartment. It bewilders his siblings when he makes a big deal out of it even if they are just dropping by (uninvited as usual) but also more like so you wouldn’t get triggered if you get to meet them but frankly it triggers Jason more since he’s quite neat as a roomie (plus future hubby points too.)

THE FAMILY CULTURE in a Filipino household is usually a mix of chaos and laughter which Jason is quite familiar with but with your family he could tell how close all of you are from all the frequent get together celebrations or holiday trips.

But also he was told a few times from some neighborhood titos (uncle) when he was still in the streets that the number 1 rule when dating a pinoy (shortened term for Filipino) is if you’re ‘dating a Filipino you’re also dating their whole family.’ You even tell him when you show pictures of your immediate relatives and family, that it’s basically a whole village if you include your extended relatives which shocks him even more. You don’t even know who are all your aunts or uncles names nor your second cousins.

You gave him a heads up and number of pointers to Jason when you were both talking about your families plus the never ending group pictures and selfies that awaits. You get worried if he would be overwhelmed even if he tells you, “Doll, don’t worry you literally met mine” “It’s not the same.” With a kiss on your forehead and the cute pout he loves still present.

He immediately gets interrogated and compliments which takes him a back getting him a bit shy. Would vibe with your cousins and would be forced to sing. The karaoke machine playing till midnight, the never ending food being offered in his plate but also your baby cousins getting attached to him which you greatly adore. He would purposely annoy you with flirty gestures in front of your cousins just for you to swat his arm or his biceps multiple times getting a reaction from your comments mixed of ‘yiee’ or ‘landi!’(flirt).

SOUVENIRS in Filipino is pasalubong, and it doesn’t necessarily mean that they’re materialistic it’s more of the thought when a person is away; may it be for family & friends.

Jason bringing home food or snacks when he goes out or something unique when coming from a long mission for you has been natural. You don’t expect him to always bring something home for you of course. Fortunately, Jason loves spoiling you and seeing you sulk when you rummage his duffle bag filled with used clothes and is helmet is too cute. Plus, this is definitely one of the first words he would understand besides the word ‘makulit’ (a neutral connotation of annoying, cheeky, and naughty combined.) and other cuss words.

The first time Jason brings you to the Wayne manor Alfred and Bruce immediately doesn’t see you as a threat especially with a bottle of wine or fruits as formalities. You panic a bit when both of you weren’t able to bring anything to the manor every time you go after that, he has to reassure you it’s fine. Though he appreciates and finds it adorable on how much his family becomes fond of you because of how genuine you are.

When you and Jason travel, you would be having an extra luggage for goodies and shopping and would get endless teasing from Jason. You would tease him back though if he needs something but you would also use his luggage as well if needed for everything you bought.

#jason todd #redhood #jason todd x reader #redhood outlaws #redhood x reader #jason todd headcannons #jason todd x y/n #batboys #jason todd x poc!reader #jason todd x southeastasian! reader #jason todd x asian reader #jason todd x fem! reader #dc universe #jason todd headcanon

[who1ssheesh]

Have I ever requested fluff Squalo prompts? But if you’ve already wrote that you can skip this

Fluff Squalo promts

Notes: im a fucking animal and forgot where I’ve got those promts 💀 I also tried to get AI to fix my disgusting grammar but looks like it doesn’t want to correct my swears so deal with with and cry with bloody tears. Idk if those are good tho, Xanxus ones were smoother to write

Warnings: swearing, OOC, not proofread I die like I die. A little sad drop in the end. Basically that’s it, just shmoll everyday stuff

• “Stop hugging me”

• “I can’t hear you”

•“If you don’t stop hugging me, I’ll make sure you won’t be able to use your hands again”

"Stop hugging me," Squalo growls, because you are being such a pain in the ass, and he needs to do a ton of the stupid paperwork instead of his boss, because apparently Xanxus is in a depressive episode again.

“Did you say something?”, you mumble in his neck, and Squalo shivers a bit, which makes you smile. "I can’t hear you”.

"If you don’t stop hugging me, I’ll make sure you won’t be able to use your hands again”.

“Aw-w-w. Will we have matching prostheses?”

Squalo, being an awkward dork he is, blushes even at this, but doesn’t say anything anymore.

(WHAT IF WE BOTH CUT OUR HANDS OFF UWU)

• “You. Me. Friday night.”

You are lucky to get the attention of such a man out of all the people in the bar. Tall and strong, sharp face features with wild eyes almost hunting you like a prey, and hair - oh, his hair…

You feel you heartbeat in your ears, when comes your way, and a smirk appears unwillingly on your face. Some people eye after him, and you just know they want to be in your place.

“You. Me. Friday night”, he slams his hand on the table, as is not even considering you refusing the offer.

“For fucks sake, Squalo, we are already dating”.

His loud wheezing laugh is everything but hot.

•”You smell nice.”

Context to this: in one game Squalo has a quote “Boss threw a pot of meat at me. I’ve washed my hair for three times but it still smells like a soy sauce” (or smth like that) and complains about his hair falling out

You sigh in defeat at a comedy of the situation: Squalo got just a day off in quite some time and you haven’t seen him in hours because…he has been in a bathroom. Four times, to be precise, and every time his hair dries, Squalo, being a clean freak he is about them, gets hysterical, leaving to watch them again.

“You okay, babyboy?”, you look at him with all the desperation in your eyes.

“The fuck you say-“

“Babyman?”

“VOI!”

You stroke his wet hair as you pass by, just to see a bunch of white strand stay between your fingers…way too much to be healthy.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Squalo doesn’t even respond, getting so uncharacteristically quiet and pale as a chalk you could believe it’s an impostor.

You smile awkwardly as you sense a faint smell of soy sauce. “You…smell nice”.

And you are unironically terrified as Squalo still looks at you completely silent with an empty void in his eyes.

“It’s fine, I’ll help you wash them this time”, you kiss his cheek, absolutely not implying Squalo is surprisingly pretty shit at taking care of his hair. “You just need a vacation to relax”.

“Yeah, I should consider this”, he presses his cheek to yours.

“You are vacuuming the floor today though”.

Squalo screams in your ear and feels guilty after since you didn’t hear anything for three days.

•”As if I could forget your birthday.”

•”I was looking forward to seeing you all week.”

You know Squalo is busy, to say the least. And you knew what you’re getting into with him, no way you are trying to blame him…But it still stings a little bit, knowing he is away on a mission, mixed with a never ending fear in the back of your mind that you can never see him again.

You jump at a metallic dinging in the door interrupting a suffocating silence, and run straight to it after hearing loud cursing you know all too well.

Squalo is disheveled. You don’t even think about presents and all that triviality when he is beaten up, battered, his hair dirty and all over his face and so out of breath.

He smashes the door loudly behind him, leans against it and tiredly sighs.

“Did you come here right after the mission?”, you can’t help but smile widely.

Squalo smirks and chuckles, “As if I could forget your birthday”.

You almost throw yourself in him, pretty sure he would fall if not for the door, and Squalo hugs you tightly in return, almost suffocatingly tight.

“I was looking forward to seeing you all week”, and he sounds so….quiet, as if shy.

Squalo is glad you keep hugging him and bury your nose in the crook of his neck, because he doesn’t want you to see his way too happy and lovesick smile.

• “Your eyes are so blue.”

Squalo is very loud and actually very chatty but still very…distant. Even for you, which makes you anxious often enough. He always needs alone time for a bit and you can hear metallic sounds - even resting and “clearing his head” for Squalo requires something useful to do, and obviously what can he enjoy more than his swords?

But sometimes he’s just…silent. You can swear he just looks at nothing and smokes way too much again, and you can’t remember how it resolves, because by the times Squalo “returns” you are asleep, and in the morning usual Superbia is back on track.

“You’re not sleeping”

“Yeah…” you know getting up for work in the morning will be a bit of a problem but here we are. And maybe it would be better to stick to your usual schedule than seeing him…like this. Because your heart aches.

Squalo has his hair all over, and it was supposed to be a ponytail somewhere in the morning. He smells like tobacco so much, and his eyes are red from being awake for so long. Hell, he even doesn’t have his prosthesis on, which is a huge thing for Squalo - he has some shtick, not letting anyone see him without a “missing part”.

“You okay?”

“Yes”.

“You sure?”

Squalo eyes dart right through you, but all he does in return is bite his lips, not answering.

“I just…though I could help”, you sound almost scared and meek, not knowing how far is too far. “Your eyes are so blue”.

You do not have the courage to look at him and the continuing silence is scary. What is surprising is that Squalo just….looks at you with eyes open wide and very stupidly confused.

“My eyes are grey”.

“That’s not what I mean, you dummy”.

“Then why should they be blue?”

In two minutes regular Superbia is back and you regret this, because he is screaming at the top of his lungs that “being blue” sounds fucking stupid and shouldn’t exist.

But next time Squalo inevitably becomes too depressed and uncertain in his life he is sure to hint you that…he thinks his eyes are blue. Just a bit.

#khr headcanons #khr imagines #khr x reader #varia x reader #katekyo hitman reborn #squalo x reader