#tagging in first five doesn't matter anymore

[the-kr8tor]

Bad Idea, Right?

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.6k

Synopsis: A visit from your ex makes you question the break up.

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (she is mentioned wearing heels though), ex! Hobie, CW injury, TW blood, Hurt/comfort.

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Hobie Masterlist

Your ankle hurts like you've run a marathon. The new heels you've bought doesn't help one bit, you should've chosen a more comfortable pair if you only knew your date was about to ditch you in the middle of dinner. Now your wallet is lighter and you didn't even get a proper date in. You could've taken a taxi home but just thinking about the surge prices has you risking the dimly lit streets.

You sigh as you finally see your front door, hobbling to it, you unlock it quickly so you could change into your PJ's, watch that new episode and have your feet up with a hot compress right over your aching feet.

The smell of iron and the familiar leather smacks you right over your face. You haven't smelt that in months, turning the corner, you already know who's waiting for you. But you wouldn't have foreseen the state that he's in.

“Holy shit, Hobie!” You run to him, blisters be damned.

Kneeling next to him, you assess the damages like you always used to. He's currently sitting up, his back slouched. His face has seen better days but there's still that charm you've always loved behind his eyes. The suit looks worse, marred by bloodied slashes and tattered cloth.

“‘m okay,” he holds your elbow, the feeling so familiar it brings you back to five months ago, a time before you broke up, before *he broke it off, inevitably shattering your heart into tiny pieces.

“Just a scratch, love.” Hobie looks softly at you, his eye bruised and battered as he clutches at his bleeding side.

“You're bleeding all over my new couch.” Sure enough, your once white couch has specks of blood on it. “What are you doing here? You should go to a hospital in the state you're in!”

He heaves a shaky breath. “I didn't know where else to go.” Squeezing your elbow, his head hit the cushion in a quiet thump.

You hold his cheek gently. This is a bad idea, right? But you know if you don't treat him his wounds would fester, you know him enough to know that he really won't go to a hospital no matter how much you beg.

“Okay, okay, just–” you fight the tears in your eyes. There might not be a relationship between you two anymore but you can't bear seeing him in pain. “I'll get the kit.” Standing up, before you could rummage for the first aid, Hobie catches your hand in his. Thumb rubbing softly over your palm, you swear you felt electricity pass through you.

“Y/N, I–”

“I'll get the first aid.” You cut him off without looking at his face, if you did you might've collapsed to your knees in front of him, kissing him like you used to. Sliding your hands off him, you walk off without looking behind.

Going over to the piles and piles of boxes in the corner, you open one that's labeled ‘medical stuff’ immediately, your eyes zero in on the things you needed.

“You haven't unpacked?” Hobie croaks out, “it's been six months–”

“Five, just five actually.” Turning around, your arms are full of bandages, painkillers and antiseptic and anything else you might need, your tone is full of passive aggressiveness.

“Felt like six to me” he coughs out.

You walk briskly to him, you've got to get your priorities straight rather than biting back at him.

“Stop talking, you're making it worse.”

“My injuries or our relationship?”

You pause, kneeling down to set the materials on the floor as gentle as you can with your arms full. “Both, now shut it, Hobart.”

“‘m sorry”

“Hobie, please.” You look at him, your eyes glistening in the light. “Please just– let me work, okay?”

“Okay” he nods, observing you prepare the materials just like you always do it. But this time you're not completely calm and not making jokes to keep him smiling and awake. You're silent, fingers shaking while you sanitize your hands.

The sound of the clock in the living room becomes annoying as the silence goes on. Hobie's suit now lay discarded on the floor leaving him in only his boxers. He grimaces with every stitch you do in his abdomen. Your touch keeps him awake though, sending little sparks as you gently put the needle in his skin, your gloves bloodied, face fully concentrating, only showing emotion with a frown when he sucks his teeth in when the pain flares up again.

Hobie doesn't want you to hurry up though, because once you're done, he'd have to leave and he doesn't want to. He doesn't want to leave you again since he made the biggest mistake of his life five months ago because of a stupid argument. He admits it to himself every morning he wakes up without you beside him, your side of the bed cold, your things not where they usually are. He can't help but look beside him, wishing the space isn't empty anymore.

He was wrong and he wants you back. He'd be lying if said he was doing well these past five months, he'd be lying too if he said he wasn't thinking of you when he was being pummeled to the ground.

You hate seeing him like this, hell it was the main reason why the fateful fight happened. With a shuddered breath from Hobie, you look up at him to check, maybe you shouldn't have when he looks at you like the last five months didn't happen. Like the last three years together still continued on to this day.

“You look nice.” He flicks his eyes down to your new shoes. “Fancy. Did you go on a date?” He mentally readies himself for your reply.

“I did.” Thinking of getting him back, you could say ‘yeah, I did and it went so well! We're getting married tomorrow by the way!’ or ‘yeah and he's right outside right now waiting for me’ but you don't, you don't have the heart to hurt him with your words, even if he did do that to you.

“Didn't go well” you continue without looking at him, concentrating on closing his wound. “He left me during dinner.”

“That fuckin’ wanker.” He clicks his tongue, his words full of venom for the man. “You deserve better, love”

You look at him directly in the eyes. “Yeah I do.”

His face drops, anger dissipating. “Y/N–”

“What are you really doing here, Hobie? You have friends that could help you better than I could and you still went to me.” Your bottom lip wobbles but you bravely continue on. “You said it yourself, you don't want to do anything with me” your voice wavers.

“I didn't mean it.”

“Then why did you say it? I only told you to be more careful because I hate coming home to you beaten and bloody. I would never tell you to stop being spiderman, I know the city needs you more than I do, but my god, I needed you too.”

“‘m so fucking sorry.” He reaches out to hold your cheek but retracts it back apprehensively.

“I came home tired and angry and I let it all out on you.”

You want to hold him, you do but it's a bad idea, you're trying to move on, you're currently failing at it based on the number of dates you've rejected and all the boxes of things you haven't even tried to unpack because of that damned bit of hope. You'd do anything to see the dimples of his cheeks again. You know it's been hard being spiderman for him, juggling his personal life with being a vigilante; and you hate how you added in another problem for him, but you know the space was needed even though it wasn't wanted. One thing is for certain though, you still love him.

Closing his wound, you pack it in with bandages, the awkward silence is deafening. The package of medical tape crinkles as he watches you with a frown and broken heart.

“You called me selfish” you break the silence, your hands staying over his wound gently, the bandages acting as a wall between you and his skin.

“I did, ‘m sorry” he thinks twice before holding your hand over his bandages. His fingers intertwining with yours slowly.

Unsurprisingly, you let him. Your eyes flicking over to his shining one, his frown makes you crave his smile.

“But…” You continue with hitched breath, “you said you love me in the same breath.”

“I meant it, I still love you.” Hobie takes your hand, lifting it to kiss your knuckles. You feel his dry broken lips, you want to hurt the one who did this to him.

Coming closer to him, you lay your forehead atop his carefully so as to not exacerbate his injuries. “I still have no idea how you made that whole sentence hurtful but full of love.”

“I'm a lyrical genius, love” he chuckles lowly, raising up to chase your lips.

“Not much of a genius that day though.” You lean away but his hand on the back of your head prevents you from getting away. For the first time in months, you smile.

“I'm a blubbering idiot then.” Hobie slides his hand down to your shoulders, just holding you like it's supposed to be. He has every curve of you memorized, roaming his hand, kneading to ease your muscles.

“That you are, Hobie Brown, my lovable idiot.” You close the distance, kissing him like you've never kissed him before.

Maybe this isn't such a bad idea after all.

#hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #hobie brown #the kr8tor's creations #x reader #atsv fanfiction #atsv x reader #atsv fanfic #atsv hobie #hobie hurt/comfort #hobie brown x fem!reader #hobie brown x you #spider punk x you #spider punk x fem!reader #cw injury #tw blood #fanfic

[phamminji]

moving along

non-idol!yu jimin x fem!reader

synopsis: part of ❓

wc: 2.3k

"what's your problem?!"

"you're the problem, y/n."

jimin regretted saying those words, back then and even now. the argument that lasted five minutes felt like five hours but that was all it took to crumble down the perfect relationship you thought you had.

jimin knew she was the one who fucked your relationship up but her senseless pride didn't want to admit it. knowing the fact that you wouldn't come back to her again, not that night, not anymore.

but still she waited for your calls for weeks end, graphing texts to your chat only for her to hastily delete it, hoping you were the one who reached out to her first. although jimin did send out a few messages on some drunk occasions, it didn't really matter anyway since you couldn't see them.

jimin slumped into the bed as she reached for her phone on the night table, occasionally wincing from the head pain, starting to sober up the little hangover from last night's drinking adventures.

it's been months since jimin broke up with you but her mind was only flooded with you. caressing the pillow on the other side of the bed, that used to be yours. she swears she can still smell the scent of you from time to time.

making her way downstairs, she reminisces the times where you would be cooking breakfast for the both of you in the kitchen. how jimin wishes she could still hold your hands and wrap her arms around your frame and give you kisses, living in a world where the two of you lived happily together.

jimin misses everything about you. she slouches on the couch as that thought floats about her head for the ninth time that day. she misses the way your eyes form crescents when you smile, the way you hug her, compliment her, how caring you were, the way the words baby, my love rolled out of your mouth, how you were so kind towards other people, how easily everyone finds you likeable-

how everyone finds you likeable. too likeable.

jimin scrolled through her social media recently, like she does every once in a while and she had randomly come across a picture of you and another girl. the space between the two of you was a little too close for comfort for jimin. seol yoona was it? she confirmed her assumption when she clicked on the tags, scanning through the comments.

jimin remembers you mentioning about yoona before. part of your friend group and someone who jimin had to 'watch out' for. jimin scowls at the remembrance that yoona had confessed to you as a joke at a party before. or was it a joke?

she knows she isn't in the position to feel that there was anything wrong even if the two of them had something going on between them. but why- just why does her heart feel shattered? she feels torn, stinged like a splinter that she couldn't take out. all the rage, anger and hurt inside her boiling with the thought resurfacing every now and then. she knows she shouldn't be feeling like that. she doesn't have the right to.

the thought that you might have already moved on from her, but not only that as you could already possibly be together with yoona etches a frown on jimin's face.

she hates this feeling, utterly.

jimin clicks her tongue, rolling her eyes as she sends a few messages to her friends. it was going to be another long night of alcohol for jimin.

☆

"why the sudden meet up?" aeri questions jimin when she's settled in to the space next to her.

"did you downed all of this already?" yeji asked, holding a bottle in each hand from the opposite side of the booth.

"thanks for coming, guys." jimin talked with a slight slur. "there's no specific reason... i just... wanted to drink." jimin sighed as she lied through her teeth, hoping her friends would take the bait, but of course she knew her friends were smarter than that.

"you called us out... just to drink? don't lie jimin, we know you better than that." ryujin protested, her sharp gaze always making jimin feel like she couldn't fly a lie pass the short-haired girl.

"i'm just-" jimin was still at least half sober, she couldn't get the words out of her throat as she took another bottle and downed a few gulps, "just... missing someone today..."

the other three girls throw each other a knowing glance as yeji sighed, "jimin. is this about y/n again?"

"ah ah ah, let's not mention her name, shall we?" jimin's face glowers, downing the remaining half of the bottle.

is it bad that i'm hoping that you're broken

is it bad that i'm wishing you're still broken

that you haven't found fish in the ocean

"how is she?" jimin is the first one who breaks, after what it seemed like five minutes of silence. she knows why her friends don't answer her questions about you. you were their friend too and they knew jimin had done it wrong big time.

"is she dating someone else?"

another five minutes seem to go by and nobody wants to give jimin an answer, that is until aeri breaks.

"she just looks fine. at least to me. in the least, she isn't crying about you anymo-"

"aeri, you do not know that." yeji cuts off the japanese girl and sends a fierce glare to her.

"i know. i know." aeri defends herself as she hold her arms up, "i just- wanna help them."

"you're not helping them in any way by doing this, aeri. this is their problem to solve. not ours." yeji emphasized, before turning to jimin, "look jimin, the two of you are our friends. i love you but i can't understand why do you care so much about her anyways? weren't you the one who broke things up with her?"

"i know! i know. i know i'm the stupid one. i know i'm the one who ended things. and now i'm the one regretting it but i can only blame myself... i just... don't know why i couldn't admit it earlier. i keep thinking about her, it's gonna make me go crazy." jimin buries her head in her hands as the other three girls watched her sob to herself.

although yeji knew better than to feel sorry, she couldn't help but to feel bad for jimin. as much as she loved seeing the both of you when you were a couple, there had to be a reason why the two of you split apart. yeji had always been there for you. she knows jimin is her friend too, but she wanted to tear jimin apart for breaking your heart. she had watched you cry and sob and scream into your pillow, whenever you looked back at the memories you and jimin shared. as much as she could understand that you missed jimin dearly, she couldn't understand why you would still hold onto your love for her. the amount of heartbreak she felt while looking at you is something she swore to ryujin she would never make her go through.

as her gaze falls upon ryujin, the said girl tapped on her arm, "i think jimin fell asleep."

"let's go guys." yeji said as she stood up from her seat. "we'll send you home, aeri."

"what about jimin?" aeri asked. "is it safe to leave her here like this?"

"don't worry, i've already arranged for someone to take her home."

"oh, alright."

to: y/n come to XXX bar, jimin is drunk. could you send her home? i know you still care about her and this might be a wrong decision i'm making. but i know you need answers. although a drunk jimin isn't the best option, it's all i can offer you. if you don't want to, it's fine.

from: y/n okay. i'll be there in 15.

from: y/n thank you, yeji.

☆

you winced at the smell of alcohol once you had stepped foot into the bar. you never really liked alcohol in general neither were you a person who liked going to these kind of places. the things you do for jimin. were you going to tell yeji you actually needed to take five minutes of deep breaths outside the bar before entering because you were nervous to see jimin again? absolutely not. you didn't know why you were so nervous for. you were just going to bring jimin home, settle her down and you're back home, end of the night.

it's been months since you last seen jimin. you always thought she'd come around and tell you to come back after you left her house that day. but the day never came. that day. a day you didn't want to remember but it's forever etches in your mind that you couldn't forget.

what made you so angry that day? what were the two of you arguing about? what made jimin say that you were the problem? why did she say that? these questions floated in your head for months as you tried reaching out to her, searching for the answers to your questions. but to no avail, she blocked you.

you sigh as you spot jimin, sprawled all over the table.

it's been months, and yet, this woman was still pulling at your heartstrings. why was it so hard to let this woman go and just continue on with your life?

come on y/n. just send the girl home and on her way. then you'll go home once again like nothing happened.

you grabbed one of her arm and slinged it around your neck, trying to get her to stand up, "come on, jimin. let's go home."

"yeji?" jimin slurred, "is that you?" as jimin brought her face closer to yours to get a closer look.

you winced again as you could smell the alcohol from her breath, "yes. it's me. let's go."

the car ride to jimin's place was nothing special. just jimin murmuring a few mutters and you trying to keep your heart intact from jumping out of your chest, reminding yourself that she was the one who had broke your heart and made you feel sorrow.

"jimin, we're here."

with no response, you shift to her side and release the buckle.

"jimin." you try waking her up again, tapping her on the shoulder.

which seemed to work as jimin got up from her slumber for a short moment, still not recognizing that it's you and not yeji.

"yeji, could you help me to the room? my feet feel funny."

you wanted to break a smile as you walked over to the passenger's side of the car. jimin was just goofy as always, just like you remember her to be.

while walking up the stairs, you could feel jimin's face rested against your neck. "yeji... why do you smell like y/n...?"

keeping your silence, you opened the door to her room, as you admired the small area. it was just like you remembered it, where jimin placed her headsets, the clothes she liked to wear as you continue glancing around the room, the photo she took for the both of you was still pasted on the wall.

you felt jimin's hand on the back of your neck, "y/n. i know it's you. this perfume... is yours."

you didn't want to turn around to face jimin. especially not when she had already recognized you.

"y/n... please... can you give me one more chance? please don't be with her... i missed you... so much." you could feel yourself shivering as jimin whispered those words into your ear, wrapping her arms around your waist.

"it's not that easy jimin. do you know how long have i been trying to get an answer from you? you always close up to yourself. was it me that was in the wrong? do you know how long have i been thinking to myself, maybe i was in the wrong, but i never knew what was i in the wrong for." you pull jimin's arms away and you turned to look at her.

"i love you, y/n."

"i don't need that right now, jimin. what i need are answers. how are we going to fix the problem, how am i going to fix my problem if i don't know what the problem is?"

jimin cups your cheek with one hand, then the other. without saying anything, she dives for it. holding your cheeks tight, pulling you into a desperate kiss, her lips moving sloppily against your frozen ones.

this is not what you want, she's under the influence.

you push her shoulders away, "you can't just break my heart and then try to mend it again, jimin. it's broken. saying that you love me or you miss me isn't going to fix the broken pieces."

you bite your lower lip, trying not to tear up in front of jimin.

"i really want us to work out again, y/n." jimin reaches out to grab your hand but you pull away.

"then why? then why didn't you look for me when i left? how do you want us to work out if i can't even see you trying? why do you only know how to say you miss me or you love me when you're drunk?" the tears now falling down from your cheeks, not even caring if jimin sees you crying.

"i promise things will be different this time." jimin tries to reassure you, but you've seen too much to know it.

"you know what, call me when you're sober tomorrow, jimin. if you mean what you say... maybe i'll consider it." you wipe your tears, before leaving jimin behind in her room, without looking back.

"wait y/n, please! stay with me..."

once you reach home, you flopped onto the floor as you sob to your pillow. once again, all alone. all by yourself, knowing that that phone call will never come.

yu jimin broke your heart again.

SORRY i am late but here it is the first part of the poll! sorry if this sucks, i really lost touch and am very rusty :( thank you guys for 500 ❤️

(this one's for @perfectsunlight @rosiehrs)

#karina x reader #aespa x reader #karina imagines #aespa imagines #aespa scenarios #yu jimin x reader #yoo jimin x reader #mango's fics

[maochira]

the dads being forced to wear all pink to go watch the barbie movies with their kid LMAO and it trends on social media everywhere that’d be funny 😭💀

I'm taking every chance I get to let dad Ego suffer <3

Characters: Ego, Noa, Chris, Lavinho, Snuffy

Requests open! - masterlist

Tags: gn!reader, reader is a teenager, this is for the sillies, no Barbie movie spoilers

Ego

-it already took a while to convince him to see the movie with you, but when you tell him he has to wear something pink he looks at you as if you just said the most insane thing he's ever heard

-his immediate answer is no. And that remains his answer for a while, no matter how many times you ask

-the day before you're seeing the movie he finally gives in. He doesn't own anything pink, though. That means he has to go shopping for new clothes first

-he's still not a fan of wearing pink at all but at least it makes you happy. Don't expect him to ever wear that again, though

-of course someone sees him and then it's all over social media. It makes him want to disappear from the earth forever but you're having the time of your life about it

Noa

-he doesn't mind watching the movie with you, but he didn't expect you to ask him to wear something pink for it

-he refuses at first, but when you ask for the third time he can't say no to you anymore

-at first, he thought he would hate it, but he quickly realized he doesn't mind wearing all pink for that one occasion at all

-plus, you got a matching outfit anyways and Noa thinks it's cute!!

-it's kinda funny to see him with his cold and tired expression being dressed in all pink

-he met a bunch of fans at the cinema and they were having as much of a blast as you about seeing your father in his pink outfit

-he feels extremely embarrassed every time he comes across the pictures on social media and there are even some articles about him seeing the movie with you

Chris

-he immediately said yes when you asked him to see the movie. And when you ask if he will wear something pink, he looks at you in disbelief

-is that really a question needed to ask? Of course he will wear pink. Wearing anything else isn't even an option. He's surprised you felt the need to ask that in the first place

-sometimes it seems as if he's more excited to see the movie than you are because he's walking through the house singing Barbie Girl because it keeps getting stuck in his head at least five times a day

-also expect to hear no other music other than the Barbie movie soundtrack after you've seen the movie with him. Chris will play it in the car and at home at any chance he gets

-he absolutely loves that the pictures of him at the movie go viral. He's super happy about it!!

Lavinho

-he was actually the one who asked you to see the movie because he already knew you would ask him at some point

-he's a little hesitant about wearing all pink at first, but he quickly gives in because he can't say no to anything you ask for (he loves to spoil you)

-at first, he kinda feels as if the colour doesn't fit him, but the longer he wears the outfit the more he loves it

-he starts loving it even more when he finds out the pictures he posted of him wearing that outfit are trending all over social media!! He's happy other people seem to like it as well

-but of course, he's way happier about the great time he had with you seeing the movie!! (he did bawl his eyes out at least two times though)

Snuffy

-when you asked him to see the movie with you he was a little confused. He thought you'd rather see it with friends instead of with him. But he's also happy you asked!

-he didn't want to wear all pink at first, though.

-you convinced him literally everyone else at the cinema will wear pink and it would be weird if he didn't, so he gave in and agreed to an all-pink outfit

-he tries to not feel embarrassed when pictures of him start trending on social media. He doesn't want to feel ashamed because he was just having a great time with you. But every time he comes across the pictures he does feel a bit embarrassed because they're EVERYWHERE all over the internet

Taglist (sign-up link): @kaineedstherapy12 @gojosorrygeto @luvcalico @truegoist @st4rcheese @acacIa @kermitslefteyeball11 @futuristicxie @bluelock4life @blueberrryui @https-archangel @userwithlotsoftime @nikokii @chaosinanutshell @mang05 @astruosie @zyuuuu @vanitasbrainrot @toruden @mafuyudonutt @weichspuelertrinker @depressed-bitchy-demon @kaiserkisser @yellowelectroslime @orah-s @deerangle3 @slowlyholypeanut

#💟 maochira writes #bllk #blue lock #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x you #blue lock x you #bllk headcanons #blue lock headcanons #ego x reader #ego x you #jinpachi ego x reader #jinpachi ego x you #ego jinpachi x reader #ego jinpachi x you #noel noa x reader #noel noa x you #chris prince x reader #chris prince x you #lavinho x reader #lavinho x you #marc snuffy x reader #marc snufy x you #noel noa #chris prince #lavinho #marc snuffy

[kimsohn]

even if the world caves in,

pairing . chanhee x gn! reader (ft. vernon of seventeen) about . 13.5k words, fluff + angst, e2l fake-dating warnings . smoking, alcohol, cursing, suggestive (allusions to sex at the end), descriptive food mentions, y/n and chanhee are idiots chanhee lowkey doesn't deserve y/n, the plot kinda doesn't make sense but fuck it we ball ok, pls lmk if i missed things bc i probably did, also i wrote most of this at ungodly hours of the night and this is not proofread take this as your warning

synopsis . after your big break in cinema, the last thing on your mind is a relationship. unfortunately for you, the public has other plans, forcing you together with the journalist who's entire career is dedicated to your downfall. note . this is my submission for @deoboyznet's secret santa fic exchange! hihi @heemingyu i'm your secret santa!! (i'm so sorry this is like two days late and probably rushed forgive me) i went through like four different plots before settling on this one and writing it in one week 😭 i hope you enjoy!!! also thank you to @juyeonszn for staying up until 6am to beta for me what the fuck. ilysm. tagging . @invuwrld @gfksn @stealanity

Lately, the only thing that seems to greet you is the buzzing sound of your phone, incessant until silenced by your tired fingers.

You reach over as you stir awake, the action almost second nature to you as your hand catches ahold of the sleek object. You hit random buttons until your desired effect comes into play, answering the phone call and putting it on speaker, and you already know who it is before their voice even drifts through the microphone.

“Y/N! Get your ass up, you’re on the headlines.”

“Again?” you whine, rolling over in bed. “Is it good news or bad news this time?”

The man on the other end laughs, bitterly, and you push yourself off the bed in response. Your manager laughing, especially like that, is nothing amusing, and you rub your eyes as you try to get yourself awake.

“Oh, it’s bad, alright. Open your fucking phone, Y/N.”

You do exactly that, immediately thumbing over to Twitter and seeing your name trending. Afraid of which one of your many stupid decisions has made the headlines today, you press the hashtag, cringing at the first picture.

“Of course, they got pictures of me drunk,” you mutter, scrolling through the list. “Wasn’t this Juyeon’s private party, like months ago? How did these photos leak?”

“It doesn’t matter Y/N,” your manager sighs from the other side, and you feel a twinge of guilt for always putting him through this situation, “you’re an actor. Nothing in your life is private anymore, especially you pole dancing on top of the bar.”

Your facial muscles twitch as you come across the aforementioned picture, seeing yourself busting out dance moves on the marble. You have to hold back a laugh, seeing how something so ridiculously insignificant is dragging your name through the mud right now.

“But Vernon, you have to admit, the pictures are kinda hot.”

He grumbles on the other side before he cuts the call, and you fall into bed giggling, scrolling through other pictures. You have a cigarette in one hand and a tequila glass in the other, and that explains why you remember absolutely nothing about that day.

A text notification appears at the top of your screen, and you swipe down to see none other than Vernon who you were on call with five seconds ago. He’s sent you the link to an article followed by a message.

This is the article that leaked the video. Check out the name.

You click on the link, and your face falls at the name of the website. It falls even more when you see the name of the writer, and you press your fingers to your forehead. You immediately call Vernon again, watching the phone ring twice before he picks up.

“Can we fucking blacklist him, Vernon?” you seethe, gripping your phone tightly.

“I’m afraid not. He’s just a journalist, not a stalker.”

“He might as well be with the way he’s always up to date with my private information.”

You punch your pillow, watching your fist pathetically curl into the bedding. It doesn’t have its intended effect, only reminding you of how weak you are physically and mentally. You don’t get into scandals often, probably because you’re a rare, good person in the horrible field that is Hollywood, but whenever you do, you have one journalist to thank for it.

“I told you, nothing is private in your life anymore.”

Vernon goes off on a tangent about how you should’ve been more careful, how you shouldn’t have drunk your ass off, but you can’t find it within you to care. There was technically nothing wrong with what you did (except for maybe the indecency, but it’s a bar for fuck’s sake), but as a famous actor with a huge fanbase, you understand why your manager is angry. Dancing on top of a counter and smoking should not be the kind of precedent you set for your fans, especially the younger ones, and your actions have a lot more weight to them now that you’re in the public eye.

It’s just stupid because you’re a regular person. At the very least, you deserve to have some privacy regarding decisions you make, especially ones that are so insignificant. 

“Vernon,” you interrupt, “it’s okay. My movie is coming out later this week, so I think it’ll die down quickly.”

“I know, but you’re lucky that this was a trivial issue. If you get caught in something truly fucked up, another movie won’t be able to save you.”

“I’ll be more careful. I promise.”

He hangs up, reminding you that you have a screening to attend later today and an interview. Your eyes drift back to the article again, reading the headline.

Hollywood’s favorite celebrity turned dancer.

You shut your eyes, breathing in and out so you don’t lose your composure. The universe is lucky you’re a rational, decent human being because if you weren’t, the writer who’s been practically harassing you would’ve been long eliminated by now.

Choi Chanhee, you read, familiar with the name. The infamous writer that’s always on your tail. It’s as if he dedicates his whole life to ruining you because he’s always the first to write things that make your crown slip. Almost all of your scandals, from particularly stupid ones at the beginning of your career to your most recent one, have been written by him. He’s practically obsessed with you at this point, and you don’t know what it is about you that ticks him off.

You toss your phone to the side, trudging over to the bathroom to get ready. Unlike Chanhee, you don’t have the time or patience to worry about trivial things like gossip pages. Choi Chanhee is just one, minor obstacle in your way. Just someone insignificant.

A long time ago, the flashing lights of cameras would’ve blinded you. Now, as a seasoned actor, you’re quite immune to the brightness that surrounds you when you walk the red carpet. You smile and pose, reveling in the cameras and the interviews that follow, asking for details about your current movie and the process behind the scenes.

You’ve just finished off an interview about the movie’s wardrobe when a black-haired man comes up to you. The lens of his thick glasses shines against the cameras in the background, and you have to look down to avoid the glare from the reflection.

You read his name tag and your face drops. You immediately look up, putting on a forced grin.

“Choi Chanhee. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He smiles, and the corners of his mouth curl as if he knows of your extensive distaste for him.

“It seems you know who I am already. Let’s get started with the interview then. First question: do you have anything to say regarding your latest scandal at the bar?”

You’re gritting through your teeth as you answer.

“No comment. Next question, please.”

“What are your opinions on the latest controversy surrounding Lee and Co., the production company behind your movie?”

He fires off a few questions, all as controversial as the last, and the only thing that keeps you from slapping him right there and then is your media training that Vernon had drilled into you while in the car.

“He will be there,” Vernon had said, fixing your watch, “don’t give him anything to work with. Just focus on promoting your movie.”

You’ve followed his advice for the solid ten minutes Chanhee has bombarded you, but even your patience is wearing thin. You’re tired of being asked about the same scandals repeatedly from different angles, and you have to admit that even if he’s doing an amazing job as a journalist, it’s not looking good for your conscience.

“Chanhee,” you interrupt, watching him pause in the middle of a question, “do you have any substantial questions about the movie, or are we done here?”

His face contorts as if he had just been thrown tomatoes at, and the devil in your brain beams from his expression. He flips through his notes, flicking through a couple of pages before landing on one that’s up to his liking.

“Okay, one last question then. Who was your favorite person to work with during this movie?”

You pause, mulling over the question. You watch as his eyes traverse his notes, and you wonder what trick he has up his sleeve. You guess that he will probably bring up something about the person who’s name you’ll recite, so you think carefully before answering.

“I don’t have one particular favorite. I love them all,” you answer honestly and safely, with no room for scrutiny.

He nods, shutting off the recorder before packing his bag and giving you a slight bow. The narcissist in your brain revels in how good he looks bowing down to you, but you pay your respects in return.

“Thank you for your time, Y/N.”

You watch as he saunters off, probably off to his crew, and you blink a few times before shifting your attention to the next reporter with an eager smile.

Hours later, you find yourself outside, exchanging the chaos inside for a fresh breath of air. Your director has indulged in an after-party, one you’re grateful for too, but after a couple of glasses of wine and many more hours of talking to fellow celebrities, you need a moment of solitude.

 The air outside is crisp and cool, and you find yourself wishing you’d brought your jacket out to accompany you. Your vision is slightly blurry and your stance is wobbly, but you find a bench nearby to take a seat at. You stare at the pond across from you for a while, throwing rocks into the water and watching how far they travel.

A cigarette accompanies you, and the puffs of air you release are visual representations of how relaxed you want to feel. You’ve just released a movie, and you should be thankful, but as an actor, your mind never rests due to the endless possibilities you can ponder over. Moments like these where you find yourself completely alone, with nothing to worry about, are rare, and you try to curb your mind from ruining the moment by overthinking.

However, your moment of peace is interrupted by a loud shutter behind you, and you quickly turn around, afraid of what the paparazzi would say if they caught you like this. A figure disappears around the corner, but as you hear the clacking of their footsteps, you know exactly who it must be.

“Chanhee, I know it’s you.”

Moments pass before he steps out from behind the wall, holding a camera in his hands. The object, in contrast to the suit he wears, is so uncoordinated that you burst into a fit of laughter, over-emotional from the wine you had earlier.

“Why are you laughing?” he asks cautiously, treading the waters.

“I didn’t know you were a photographer too! You’re an all-rounder for sure.”

“Look,” he whispers as if his guilt will excuse his actions, “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay.” You pat the empty space next to you. “Here, sit next to me.”

He takes a seat warily, as if you have a gun in your hands, but relaxes once he sees you dangling your feet. It’s uncharacteristic for him to be sitting next to you, heck, even interacting with you, but you don’t seem to really mind as you throw another rock into the water.

“Why do you hate me?” you ask, staring at him with glossy eyes. “What did I do that was so wrong?”

“Are you drunk?” he asks instead, realizing this isn’t the pristine condition he saw you in a couple of hours ago.

“It doesn’t matter,” you sniffle. “What did I do to make you absolutely despise me?”

Chanhee sighs, staring at the ripples in the pond. He picks up a rock, swinging it as far as he can before it settles to the bottom of the pool. It goes way farther than any of the rocks you’d thrown before, and you pout miserably as you cease your ministrations.

“It’s my job. I get paid for writing about your downfall.”

“But… you don’t have to be so mean about it.”

Chanhee recognizes that he won’t get anywhere with this argument because you’re drunk, so instead, he turns to you, placing his hands on your shoulders so you look at him.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? Here, I won’t even post the pictures that I took today.”

He deletes the pictures from his camera, showing you after it’s done, and you surprise him by throwing your arms around him. You’re too far gone to realize the weight of your actions, but he isn’t, so he tries to gently pry them off his shoulders.

“Thank you,” you whisper after he’s done, slumping across the bench half-asleep, “thank you for being nice. For once.”

He blinks once, twice, before he exhales, turning around on his heel and disappearing into the darkness. Later, when Vernon picks you up from the bench, you tell him that a pretty fairy saved you from disaster. He won’t believe you, but you know it’s true in your heart.

You’re nursing your hangover when you decide to turn on the news. You settle into your comfortable couch, holding a bowl of hangover soup and trying not to succumb to the pain radiating throughout your forehead.

Not often do you watch the news, choosing to opt out because it’s usually annoying and gives you a headache, but Vernon’s somehow using two devices to watch his show on Netflix so you’re forced to resort to this. You think you might die if you don’t distract yourself from the migraine that’s been occupying your senses, so the news will have to suffice.

You flick through the channels, not interested in the politics or the weather, but your fingers pause when a bright pink headline catches your eye. It’s the gossip channel, and this is usually the channel you’re warned to stay far away from, but you can’t help but watch the video playing when the headline specifically features your name.

Y/N caught in a secret relationship, embracing a secret lover by the pond.

Your mood turns sour when the clip features events from last night, ones that are still fuzzy in your brain. You didn’t expect to be reliving this situation, but your heart all but drops when you realize the snippet features you and Chanhee in the frame, hugging each other as if you had indeed been lovers. The worst part is that Chanhee didn’t even reciprocate, but that isn’t featured in the headline, so it truly does look like you two have a thing for each other.

This time around, you call Vernon first instead of the usual.

“Y/N,” he whispers groggily as if you had woken him up, “what happened?”

“Please turn on the fucking news Vernon.”

You hear shuffling from the other side, a few minutes of rustling before you hear the blaring of the TV and a similar sound drifting through his microphone. You get a few minutes of pin-drop silence before all hell breaks loose.

“Who the fuck is that?!” he exclaims, and you hear his feet angrily pacing around. “Was this last night? I thought I told you to be more careful, to look out for your surroundings—”

“Vernon, it’s Chanhee.”

The only thing you hear from Vernon is his angered breaths, and it takes mere seconds before you burst into tears, fed up by this situation and the terrible migraine you still have. You just want to curl up into a ball and never step foot into the universe again, and your resolve only strengthens when the line goes dead. You can’t help the tears that come to bay, rippling through you like a shockwave that never seems to end.

Insistent knocking at your door a few moments later is the only thing that stops the tears from falling, and you quickly wipe them before opening the door. Vernon stands at the other side, his hands in his pockets and eyebags above his cheeks, but his gaze softens when he sees your puffy eyes and you hugging yourself.

He brings you into his embrace, your tears staining his hoodie, but neither of you can find it in yourselves to care. Vernon just caresses your back, knowing the only thing you need right now is a gesture of comfort, and you burrow into his chest further. Right here, in the middle of your entryway, Vernon provides you with the best version of reassurance he can offer: a simple, caring hug.

“I was drunk,” you mutter when you’ve calmed down, speaking through the sniffles that escape you, “and we were just talking. You know I get touchy when I’m tipsy.”

“I figured,” he says, unraveling himself from your embrace. “Does the press know it’s him?”

“No, but I expect they’ll find out soon enough.”

You follow him as he takes a seat on the couch, watching the headlines on the TV. The gossip channel has long moved on from your news, but you haven’t, and fear of what will happen to either you or Chanhee is killing you.

“We need to contact him before then,” he voices, grabbing his phone from his pocket. “I think I know someone from his office.”

“Wait, why?” you ask, trying to peer over at his phone, watching him scroll through his contacts. “Wouldn’t it just be best to let the rumors die down?”

“If this was a celebrity, we could’ve done that. But Chanhee is a regular human being, and this could potentially destroy his career.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” you murmur under your breath, watching Vernon deadpan.

“Look, I know you hate him, but he doesn’t deserve to be criticized for something he didn’t even do. Let’s just talk to him and see what he has to say, okay?”

You nod, falling back on the couch. The migraine still bothers you, and you rub your fingers across your forehead to massage it.

Five days ago, you would never have expected to be in this position. To you, Chanhee was just a name on a screen, a faceless figure haunting your dreams. How fitting is it that his very first encounter with you led to your worst nightmare?

You hear Vernon dial his contact, watching the phone ring several times before a line picks up. Vernon speaks gratefully, grabbing the pen and paper that you have lying around on your coffee table as he scribbles down some information.

“We have a meeting,” he says, showing you the piece of paper, “in five hours. Be ready by then.”

Just what exactly have you gotten yourself into?

The bright lights and white walls in the meeting room make it look like a prison cell, and the atmosphere does absolutely nothing to calm your nerves. You’re tapping your foot anxiously, sitting in an unfamiliar space in an unfamiliar building, but Chanhee requested a meeting in his office building, and you have no other choice but to go with it.

You’d be lying if you said you were nonchalant about the whole atmosphere, but you try to keep yourself composed as you wait for him to enter. Vernon sits beside you, going through some papers in his briefcase that only a manager would know about, and his presence is the only thing keeping you grounded right now.

“Just let me do the talking, okay?” he’d said before entering, “The last thing we need is another argument on our hands.”

Even though the comment offended you, you honestly would be better off trusting his judgment. You and Chanhee don’t exactly have the best track record, and if either one of you says something even slightly off, the room would probably explode into insults. You honestly don’t even have the strength anyway to hold up a fight, so you slump into your chair, adjusting your jacket and reeling in your patience.

The doorknob twists and you and Vernon straighten your postures, trying to look presentable for your audience. Chanhee enters, followed by a blonde-haired who you’d assume to be his boss, and you rise so you can shake their hands. Chanhee ignores your attempt at waving a white flag, choosing to shake Vernon’s instead before sitting down at a seat, but his boss smiles and grabs your palm tightly in his.

“Hello, I’m Sangyeon. It’s nice to meet you.”

You exchange pleasantries as you sit down, and once you get over the initial awkwardness, you shut your mouth and wait for Vernon to speak up.

“So, I’m sure you guys have seen the news and are well aware of why we’re here.”

Sangyeon nods, urging him to continue.

“I understand what you might be feeling right now Chanhee,” Vernon follows, catching Chanhee’s gaze, “and we’re extremely sorry for the trouble that this has caused you. However, I have a proposition that might benefit both parties, if you are interested.”

Chanhee’s silence prompts Vernon’s explanation, and you lean in, curious about what he has to say too. Vernon had offhandedly mentioned that he had a deal to make, but you don’t have the slightest clue as to what he’s about to propose.

“I was thinking we play into the rumors. We can say Y/N and Chanhee met at a press conference and hit it off a couple of weeks ago. After we plan a few more appearances, we can stage a public breakup in a few weeks so that everything can go back to normal.”

You blanch, ready to refuse the idea, but Chanhee beats you to it.

“Why would I agree to a relationship with Y/N?”

“Hey,” you start, offended by his implications, “what’s wrong with dating me?”

Chanhee scoffs.

“Don’t even start, Y/N. This is all your fault after all. I didn’t know you liked me that much that you couldn’t keep your hands off me.”

You’re seeing blood red, crazed at the malice behind his words.

“I was tipsy! And how was I supposed to know that someone was stalking us? If anything, it was your fault for deleting those pictures and being nice to me.”

The room erupts into chaos as you throw petty insults at each other, similar to a catfight. It takes Vernon holding you back physically to get you to calm down, but even after you’ve calmed down, you’re still staring daggers at him.

“Look, Chanhee, I understand this is not ideal for either of you given the nature of your jobs. But if you think about it, when the press finds out that it’s you in the picture, how will you be able to resume your writing? Who will take you seriously if you write hate articles about the very person that you were caught with?” Vernon asks, trying to reason with him.

Chanhee falls into silence, and he looks at his manager. His manager offers him a pitiful glance, knowing that Vernon is right.

“You don’t have to be lovey-dovey with each other,” Vernon continues, hoping to ease the terms. “You just have to appear in public for a couple of dates. We can use your old articles to prove that you guys have had romantic tension, so we’ll have background evidence too. When Y/N breaks your heart in a couple of weeks, you’ll have the perfect reason to continue writing hate articles.”

“It’s like enemies to lovers to… enemies, right?” Sangyeon asks, humming after Vernon nods, “I think it’s a good idea Chanhee. You’ll gain a lot more exposure after the whole thing is over too. If we continue going as it is, the press will ruin your career, and I’d have no other choice but to fire you. I think this is the best decision for your future and the company.”

Chanhee sighs, rubbing his temples. As much as you despise him, you can sympathize with the fact that he has a difficult decision looming over his head. The fate of his career rests in your hands, the person he’s dedicated a lifetime to ruining, and you can imagine just how insane his internal conflict might be.

“I’ll do it,” you voice, watching the room’s reactions carefully.

Chanhee’s eyes shoot up at you, clearly not expecting your admission.

“I would hate to be the reason you had to quit something you love. Besides, I’ve been in too many scandals recently anyway; I think a relationship could do my career some good.”

You don’t know if your attempt at a joke resonated with him, but his shoulders relax and he bores his eyes into you. His eyes are sharp and feline-like, but his brown pupils are almost the exact opposite, thoughtful and deep. He’s a little pretty, you realize, when he’s not trying to sabotage your entire career.

You’ve tried to stay level-headed after your argument earlier, as a gesture to Vernon, but you can’t contain your surprise when he nods a few minutes later.

“Okay, I’ll go with your plan. But I want four weeks, not five.”

“Deal,” you say, reaching over with an open palm before Vernon can even say anything.

This time around, Chanhee does reciprocate your gesture, shaking your hand firmly. The white flag flies freely over your heads, and you can only pray that these next four weeks will be over just as quickly as they started.

The news blows up fairly quickly after it’s published, even faster than any of the scandals you’ve been in. After the announcement your companies sent out confirming your relationship, you posted a picture of Chanhee to your Instagram story to show support from your side. Never have you garnered so many notifications in a single day, but you’re not complaining. You suppose your fans have also been waiting for you to get into a serious relationship, seeing that you’ve been single since your acting debut, so the update is received with a mostly positive reaction that you’re thankful for.

However, just the news and a picture alone aren’t going to cut it. Arguably, the hardest part of this whole ordeal is your interactions with Chanhee, making your relationship believable enough so your fans don’t think this is the PR stunt like it really is. Your first order of business is taking Chanhee along on a date tonight to a movie premiere, the first actual public appearance you two will be making.

To say you’re nervous is an understatement. The last time you saw Chanhee, it took Vernon’s presence to stop you from biting his head off. How will you even survive a whole event together, let alone act like a couple?

You tell Chanhee to show up a couple of hours earlier so you can plan out the details, unable to keep your nervousness at bay. You don’t know if Chanhee is as anxious as you, but Vernon always says it’s good to stick to a plan, so calling him over isn’t the worst idea you’ve ever had.

Actually, it might be a little bit bad.

“Wow,” you say, your throat suddenly parched from seeing his clothing, “you clean up nicely.”

Nice is the simplest you could describe his outfit. He’s wearing a black suit, indented polka dots scattered across the black cloth. Paired with a white shirt underneath and matching tie, along with those round glasses that are definitely growing on you, he looks just like another A-list celebrity in the crowd. Maybe even a model if you would care to admit it.

“Thanks,” he mutters, unbuttoning the jacket to strew it across your couch, “it’s kinda hot in here, no?”

You would agree, but your mind is currently occupied with how delicious he looks in just a simple white shirt and a tie. You have half a mind to tell him that he really should quit his job and become a model instead, but you settle for nodding instead.

“It’s probably because of all the facial stuff we did earlier,” your stylist Kevin says, walking over to place clips in your hair, “it’ll calm down in a little bit.”

Chanhee’s eyes widen when Kevin enters, his eyes staring at you in panic and moving over to Kevin before they travel back to you. You laugh, amused with how seriously he’s playing the part.

“He knows,” you reassure him, “most of my close staff know, so you don’t need to worry.”

Chanhee exhales in relief, his head drooping down into his arms. Kevin meets your gaze before quirking an eyebrow, and you shake your head, not wanting to indulge in his teasing.

“Okay,” Chanhee says after he’s calmed down, leaning into the couch, “what’s the plan?”

“Well, since this is our first time in public together, we can keep it simple,” you start, wincing when Kevin tugs on part of your hair a little too hard, “maybe holding hands, walking next to each other, maybe a hug if we’re up for it.”

Chanhee looks disgusted, and you honestly can’t even disagree with him. You’re not exactly happy about jumping straight into skin-to-skin contact with the guy you hate, but this is the bare minimum for a relationship and you intend to follow through.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you sigh. “You do know that we’re going to have to kiss at some point, right? This is probably the tamest we’ll get.”

“Hey, don’t haunt the poor guy,” Kevin says, pulling out a makeup palette. “Just take it slow, okay? It’ll be a while before you get to that stage.”

You disappear into your bedroom to change after Kevin is done with your styling, and Chanhee visibly relaxes once you’re gone. It’s not like he wants to murder you with every fiber of his being, but something about you puts him on edge, and he can’t tell what it is.

“Are you still stressed about the kissing thing, dude?” Kevin asks while packing up his supplies. “Y/N’s just saying that to scare you, so don’t worry. Besides, after you see them in this outfit, you might change your mind.”

Kevin leaves with a wink, and Chanhee is left to scramble for its implications. You can’t possibly look good enough to kiss, right? He’s seen you countless times, and the only time his resolve ever-so-slightly wavered was when he saw you in person about a week ago. That was because you were drunk, though, of course. Not because he was facing you, flesh to flesh, for the first time in his life.

His overthinking ceases though when you step out of your bedroom, and he can’t stop Kevin’s words from floating through his brain.

You’re beauty personified, he thinks, from the tips of your curled hair to the bottom of your glass footwear. The silver-length outfit you adorn is something to die for, heck, you are someone to die for, and Chanhee can’t even breathe because he just imagined you standing next to him and the room is suddenly very, very hot.

“Ready to go?” you ask, adjusting a couple of rings on your fingers.

Chanhee dumbly nods, now realizing why literally everyone is in love with you, and he stands abruptly. He follows you to the front like a puppy dog before you turn around and start giggling. He doesn’t even register you speaking because suddenly, your giggles aren’t annoying and all of your sounds are like songbirds from heaven.

“You forgot your blazer, silly. Here, I’ll get it.”

While you turn back around, walking to the sofa, Chanhee slaps himself. Gently, of course, because he doesn’t want to ruin his face before the red carpet, but just enough to remind himself of his position in this whole scheme. You’re a celebrity, obviously you look good, and he can’t lose his morals just because you look stunning after being dolled up.

You’re a celebrity and he’s a journalist. A journalist who gets paid to antagonize you. Realistically speaking, even just meeting you should have him seeing red. He should not of all things, be pretending to date you, and he definitely should not be reconsidering his life decisions after spending two hours with you.

He just has to get through these four weeks. You’ll be out of sight, out of mind before he even knows it.

“When the cameras start flashing, just look forward. Don’t ever look at them straight in the eye, otherwise, you’ll feel dizzy.”

Chanhee grumbles as you continue rambling, but you can’t find it within you to stop. You’ve never had a public relationship like this, especially with someone who’s not a celebrity, so the desire for perfection is getting to you.

Any small thing could fuck this up and not only ruin Chanhee’s career but yours too. What would the public think if they found out you were lying about a relationship? Heck, you wouldn’t be able to trust your own self after that, let alone the public.

“Y/N, it’ll be okay. It’s just handholding and a hug, right?”

“Yeah, but we need to look like we’re in love,” you huff, your head drooping as you play with your fingers in your lap.

You feel a hand cup the side of your chin, bringing you up to Chanhee’s gaze.

“Look at me,” he starts, thumbing your cheek, “we’ll be fine. Just stare into my eyes like this, and no one will ever doubt us.”

You don’t get to tell him that you might be believing it too with the way you can’t stop gazing at the twinkle in his eyes and the fondness in how they crease. You’ve met many gorgeous celebrities in your life, but not once have you ever felt your heart beat so heavily until this moment.

“We’re here,” Vernon interrupts from the front seat, breaking your intense gaze, “get ready.”

The flashing blinds you as soon as the car door opens, but you’re immune to the glares at this point. Chanhee, however, is not, so your only focus is being by his side until you walk inside the venue. You exit first, waiting until he steps out beside you before interlacing your fingers together and offering him a chaste smile, hoping it’ll calm his nerves.

He grips your hand tighter as you walk, and you both ignore the press shouting from around you. The screams seem extra prevalent today due to his presence, and you hope he isn’t feeling bombarded by the chaos around him. You focus on Chanhee, watching as he stares back at you to ground himself. You walk quickly in unison with him, counting your steps and smiling for the camera as you finally step inside the entryway.

“Are you okay?” you ask after you’re situated, having a few minutes of peace before you’re off to star on the red carpet. “I know that must’ve been a lot.”

“It’s fine. It’s over now. It was chaotic, but it helped to just focus on you.”

A twinge of heat flutters across your cheeks, but you pay no attention to it.

“I’m glad. Don’t worry, we don’t have any more red carpets in our schedule.”

He unlaces his fingers from yours, something you’d completely forgotten about, but you don’t have time to mull over the loss of his warmth before Vernon pushes you to the red carpet to get ready for the pictures. You take deep breaths, reveling in the mere seconds you get before the flashing starts again and you are simply an object for the camera. You pose, striking a big grin for the camera and remembering your media training. This is what you do best, being a celebrity, and suddenly you find comfort in this familiarity after all the turmoil you’ve been through the past couple of days. No Chanhee, no relationship, no headlines, just you and the camera like always.

However, you can’t stop your eyes from wandering when you get a break, watching Chanhee converse with Vernon. You let your daydreams drift, wondering how he would look like posing next to you for the camera, how he would laugh and answer questions about your relationship so giddily, or even how he’d stare into your soul like earlier before, bearing his heart for the taking.

You know that he won’t even meet your gaze after the four weeks are over, but you let yourself indulge in your imagination anyway. You’ve been touch-starved for so long, so it’s only natural that you have these thoughts about affection, right?

You walk back to Chanhee after you’re done, joining him and Vernon as you travel the venue. The place looks spectacular, with intricate chandeliers and a whole buffet of delicacies, and you make it a point in your mind to compliment the mastermind behind this all, Juyeon, when you see him.

Vernon leads you guys over to the food, piling the spring rolls on his plate until you glare at him to stop. Chanhee restrains laughter behind a mouth full of cupcakes, but even you have to agree with Vernon’s eagerness when you take a bite of the macadamia cookies. You’re on your fourth one when Juyeon saunters over to you, his goofy grin ever-so-present on his face.

“Y/N! Long time no see, right? I haven’t talked to you since my party months ago.”

“It’s been too long. I love the venue, by the way. You always outdo yourself.”

“Don’t talk to me about outdoing things. Look at you with your new boyfriend!”

You glance over at Chanhee, who’s busy trying to see how many spring rolls Vernon can fit in his mouth. You grimace, turning back to Juyeon. You know Vernon’s your manager, but sometimes it feels like you have to keep him on a leash instead of the other way around.

“Yeah it’s… a recent development, but I’m happy.”

“I’m surprised you got into a relationship in the first place. After you rejected me, I kinda thought you weren’t looking for love.”

Juyeon clutches his chest in fake agony, and you roll your eyes. Juyeon asked you out years ago when he was the director of your film, and he never fails to bring it up whenever he sees you. You still aren’t looking for love, of course, but your recent news is probably a shock to Juyeon and the many other people you’ve rejected over the years.

“I’m not incapable of love, Juyeon,” you sigh, looking back at Chanhee again, “I just needed to find the right person.”

The word love has never meant anything special to you, but when you look at Chanhee, you feel your heartstrings pull at your chest. Finally having a boyfriend, even if he’s fake, means you have the ability to love and be loved, and maybe you’ve been denying yourself happiness far too long for the wrong reasons.

As you wave Juyeon goodbye, sauntering over to Chanhee, you walk with a change in mindset. The situation you’re stuck in isn’t perfect, but you decide that it’s best to make the most out of it.

“Y/N, watch out!”

Suddenly, your whole world turns upside down, and you brace yourself as you fall backward, watching the twinkling of the chandeliers above you. You shut your eyes as a reflex, expecting the hardness of the wooden floor beneath you, but instead, you feel a strong hand supporting your back. You open your eyes to see Chanhee, but as his orbs bore into yours, all words tie on the tip of your tongue.

This close to him, you can see his faint eyeliner, the slight curve of his nose, and the barely visible mole on his top lips. It feels like the world is spinning still, but as Chanhee breathes, exhaling a soft puff of air, your gaze remains grounded only on him as he cradles you gently.

The sound of a camera startles you both, and Chanhee pulls you up, staring at Vernon. You smooth down your clothing, clearing your throat as you eye the culprit.

“What was that for?” you ask, throat slightly parched by what happened mere seconds ago.

“Whatever practice you guys did together before coming here definitely worked, because this picture definitely looks like you’re in love. I’m gonna leak it to a local magazine, so good job for today’s work.”

Your cheeks burn as he shows you the picture, and your gaze flits over to Chanhee. His expression is indiscernible, and you have the sudden urge to know exactly what’s running through his mind. Was he just as affected as you, or was this just a mere act of kindness?

The rational part of your brain hopes it’s the latter, but the heaviness of your heart might have different aspirations.

Your phone dings as you finish applying the last bits of your mascara, and you pad over to your couch, seeing Chanhee’s text message on the top of your screen.

Be there in five.

It’s been a week since Juyeon’s movie premiere, a week since your heart has practically gone haywire. You’re a celebrity, if anything, you’re the last person to be looking forward to a text, but you found yourself checking Chanhee’s chat every morning and being disappointed when nothing rolled in. Even when Vernon’s picture leaked and the internet blew up over your coupling, his message bar still remained dry and lifeless.

He didn’t have any reason to text you anyway, so you wonder why you always looked forward to one.

You were the one to reach out first, letting him know that you had a date scheduled for Saturday night according to Vernon’s schedule. A meeting once per week was mandatory, just to keep up the image, and today’s plan was a nice, fancy dinner at a restaurant.

Chanhee, like a true gentleman, offered to pick you up instantly after you’d sent him the message, and you let yourself feel elated for five seconds before you texted him the time and place. You don’t know why Chanhee reduces you to a middle school girl longing for her crush, but you suppose it’s just because you haven’t been on a proper date in so long.

You’re dressed in blue satin, a dress you’d had no real reason to wear until today, and you’ve tried your best to clean up without Kevin’s help. You send a quick picture to your stylist as you wait, asking for advice even though you know you always look good, but Kevin just sends you a string of heart emojis in return and tells you that you look perfect.

Three sharp knocks on the door indicate Chanhee’s presence, and you open the door. The words on your throat die down when you realize he’s wearing a similar blue satin to yours, and it only takes one flicker of your eyes to meet his for him to start laughing.

“Are you stalking me or something?” he teases, pulling out a bouquet of fresh flowers.

“What’s this for?” you ask, setting them on the vase inside.

“Vernon told me to. He said you always like getting flowers on a date.”

You haven’t been on a date in years, so you don’t know where Vernon got this information from, but you appreciate the gesture nonetheless. The arrangement of peonies, lilies, and daffodils looks stunning on the countertop, and you post a quick picture to your Instagram story before heading out with Chanhee.

“Do you want the aux?” he asks when you’ve situated yourselves in his car.

The wind blows freely as he drives, the night sky twinkling through Chanhee’s open convertible. The rich red color of his Toyota Solara stands out against the deepness of the blackness around you two, but you can only focus on Chanhee’s side profile and the glittering earrings he’s wearing. Up until this point, you’ve only ever been in spaces you were familiar with. Seeing Chanhee in his own car is a completely different atmosphere for you, and you’re not sure how it makes you feel.

“I’m good. Play whatever you like,” you reply, truly interested to see what type of music he listens to.

Paris in the Rain drifts through the speakers, and you have to fight back a smile at the tune. Of course he would play this song on a night drive, judging by its mellow atmospheric feel, but you’re not mad about it.

“Why did you choose this restaurant?” he continues after the song settles, looking over at you when he pulls to a stop in front of a red light.

You have to recenter your thoughts to answer him, bringing your vision back from how ethereal he looks against the red tones of the stoplight.

“It’s been on my list for a while,” you admit honestly. “It’s also not super high scale, so someone will definitely notice us being there.”

Chanhee nods before quieting down as the red light fades into green. You’ve noticed that Chanhee tends to sit in silence when he’s with you, not interacting as much as he had with Vernon at the premiere. You wonder if he’s just naturally silent and hit it off with Vernon or maybe if he’s just hates you.

“Are you always this quiet?” you voice when he slows down due to traffic, not wanting him to feel alienated by the question.

“Ah, not really,” he says, scratching his head, “I just didn’t know if you were comfortable with me talking since we’re technically just coworkers.”

“Oh,” you voice, not expecting his admission.

You didn’t foresee him being so considerate of your feelings, enough to stop talking completely, and the thought warms your heart. Maybe he’s not such a bad person after all, you think, staring at him expectantly.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have admitted that,” he expresses. “I can go back to sitting in silence.”

“No!” you exclaim, and he looks over at you with slight alarm, “I mean, it’s fine. You talking is fine. You don’t need to restrict yourself from speaking just because we’re in a work setting. I don’t mind you talking.”

His shoulders relax as he steps on the gas, maneuvering through the gaps of the traffic that’s slowly clearing.

“That’s good,” he mutters, flicking on his blinker, “cause otherwise, this would’ve been a very awkward dinner date.”

You fight back a smile as he pulls up to the restaurant, and you don’t even have a chance to open your own door before he’s unlocking it for you. You thank him politely before walking inside, side by side with Chanhee. You follow the receptionist to your table once she gets your section cleared, and you’re offered complimentary chips and salsa as you wait for your food to arrive.

“You said this place was not ‘super high scale’?” Chanhee questions, looking around at the décor.

Okay, so maybe it is a little bit classy. The mediterranean themed restaurant has a cozy interior, and you’re currently sitting on wicker chairs by a huge glass window. The setting feels very exposed, as if you truly are sitting outside with the stars hanging over your heads. Subtle things about the place remind you that it’s elegant, such as the intricate menus and the tons of cutlery that sits next to you, but you hoped that it was something more comfortable for Chanhee to acclimate to.

“Why, is it too much?” you ask, picking up a chip.

“It’s not, but this is definitely fancy in my world.”

You smile, watching Chanhee be starstruck by his surroundings.

“Just because I’m famous now doesn’t mean I always was,” you start, “before I got my big break, my version of fancy was a dine-in restaurant.”

He laughs, relaxing a little.

“I didn’t know we were so similar. I just always assumed you were a nepo baby or something like that.”

“Just because you hate me doesn’t mean I’m privileged. I worked hard to get here, you know.”

Chanhee nods as your waiter brings out your food, and the two of you immediately dig in. The appealing smells make your stomach hungrier than usual, and it takes a good few minutes for you to settle your appetite before you start conversing with Chanhee.

Now that the awkwardness is gone and that you have a simple understanding of each other, talking with him is easy. Putting aside all the hatred that’s spewed up these past few months, you find out that Chanhee is actually an amiable person, someone you could’ve seen yourself being friends with if you two weren’t so different. He shares stories about growing up and his family in exchange for yours, and you have to clutch your stomach in laughter when he slips in a joke that matches your taste exactly.

Being with Chanhee is natural, so much that you wish you had met him under different circumstances. In addition to being a friendly person, he’s also a gentleman, from the way he slips his card under the menu without you noticing (you definitely scolded him for it later) and opens the car door whenever you get in and out. As he walks you up to your apartment, you thank him honestly for tonight, regretting that your time together is already over for the day.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers suddenly when you’re outside your door. “I’ve written so much shit about you without being an honest judge of your character.”

“It’s okay, Chanhee. This is what you do for a living, I get it.”

“No, you deserve an apology. You’re an amazing actor and an even better human being. You didn’t deserve a single word I wrote about you.”

You’re not tipsy this time around, but you pull him into a hug anyway. This time, you actually mean it though, and you try to disregard the loss of warmth when he pulls away after a few moments.

“Thank you for tonight,” you murmur, stepping into your apartment. “See you next week.”

He smiles, and suddenly, the room is filled with sunshine.

“No, thank you. See you soon.”

You woke up the next morning with a text from Chanhee. The texts have not stopped coming in ever since you responded, as if you’ve opened the floodgates of interaction. You wish he’d texted you sooner, because even though he bombards you with everything in the world from funny memes to just crying about his day, you love returning the same energy.

Where are you rn, a text flies in, and you smile when you see who it’s from.

on set. wbu?

Driving to somewhere special!

oooh spill??

I’ll let you know after I get there

You frown, not so pleased with his secrecy. You hate secrets, and so does Chanhee, so why is he indulging in one right now?

You don’t have time to mull over it as your director calls you back over, ready to continue with the shot. Your costar Younghoon stands before you, smiling as his assistant fixes up his hair before clearing his throat.

“Ready for this scene? It’s a lot,” he comments, reading over the script one more time.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you sigh, watching for your director’s call.

The line starts rolling a few seconds later, and you immediately straighten your posture, preparing yourself for the scene.

“Hey,” you whisper, “what was so wrong about what I did?”

He laughs bitterly, pointing to the papers on the desk beside him.

“What was so wrong? You ruined my entire career!”

The papers fly around you as he wipes them off the desk in one sweep, and tears well up in your eyes once you look at his angry gaze.

“I’m sorry,” you plead, clutching onto his arm, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know this was going to happen, I swear—”

“You didn’t know?” he asks, although it’s more of a statement, “you’re the editor for the goddamn newspaper! Of course you fucking knew this was going to happen!”

He rips his wrist from your fingers, inching away from you.

“It’s my job to write the news, darling. You have to understand—” you cry, dropping to the ground.

The papers shift around you, and you watch your tears drip onto the headlines.

“We’re done,” he utters, one final phrase before he rips off his ring, throwing it by your feet. “Never speak to me again.”

“And cut!” your director shouts, “good work guys. Take 30.”

Younghoon helps you up from the ground, and you whisper gratitude before brushing off your ankles. The wooden floor was uncomfortable to kneel on, but you’re grateful that it was only for a short period of time.

“Y/N!” you hear from the other end of the room, and you peek over Younghoon’s broad shoulders to see a familiar figure waving.

“Chanhee?” you gasp, walking over to him once he register his voice. “What are you doing here?”

“Surprise?” he replies, giving you the bouqet of flowers he was holding. “I wanted to be a good boyfriend and surprise you on set.”

“Thank you,” you reply, grabbing the flowers from his hands before leaning in closer, “did Vernon put you up to this?”

“Um…” he starts, scratching the back of his head, “yeah, definitely. It’s the middle of the week, so why else would I be here?”

You roll your eyes, leaning back before you reach for his arm, squeezing it tightly.

“Thank you, regardless. No one’s ever visited me on set before like this. Even Vernon.”

“Really?” he asks, sounding surprised, “I thought you would have a lot of people around you like that.”

“I have acquaintances, but they’re all busy too. The most someone’s ever done for me is send me a food truck, and that was from my own mother.”

“Well, I’ll be here from now on, then.”

You feel a pang in your chest, and Chanhee must notice the shift in the atmosphere too because he clears his throat. You both know that this arrangement is already halfway over, so why do Chanhee’s words feel so comfortable, as if you both were in a regular relationship from the very beginning?

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that—”

“Y/N? Is this the boyfriend?” Younghoon interrupts, walking up from behind with an outstretched arm. “Hey, I’m Younghoon, the costar. Nice to meet you, man.”

Chanhee smiles, plastering a smile to cover his previous frown before taking Younghoon’s hand in his, shaking it firmly.

“Nice to meet you too. Y/N’s been telling me about you, so it’s nice to finally put a face to the name.”

Younghoon laughs, removing his hand from Chanhee’s grip.

“Yeah, it’s surreal working on this movie. It’s kinda funny how Chanhee’s a journalist because Y/N plays one in this movie too.”

Chanhee turns to you, surprised by this new piece of information. You’ve been pretty lowkey about the role, not wanting to tell anyone until the movie wrapped up filming, but Younghoon seems to trust Chanhee with the information because he’s your boyfriend.

“Really? I didn’t know.”

You nod in confirmation, grinning slightly.

“Yeah, we just finished up a heavy argument scene before you arrived. Wanna see the set?”

You and Younghoon parade Chanhee around, introducing him to other actors and cast on the set working diligently. Chanhee is in awe, starstruck by the unfamiliar environment and you can’t really blame him. The movie industry in and of itself is a dream, and witnessing it for the first time is probably exhilarating for him.

After your break wraps up, you lead Chanhee out, standing by the front of the garage. He still has stars in his eyes, and you have to nudge his shoulder twice before he pays attention to you.

“Sorry, I just… I wanted to be a director once, so seeing this all is kind of a dream come true.”

Your eyes widen. Whatever you were expecting to come out of his mouth was not even close to what he just said, and you’re still processing his words when you voice your confusion.

“Yeah, that’s how I learned writing and photography. I used to write screenplays and direct them, but I never made it big like I wanted to. Luckily, Sangyeon took me in when I was struggling, and that’s the only reason I have a job today.”

Suddenly, you know nothing about Chanhee. If events had played out a little differently, Chanhee could be standing right in front of you, not as a fake boyfriend but as a director. You wouldn’t be from two separate worlds anymore, and the thought is killing you.

“Do you still direct?” you ask uncertainly, unsure of what to even say after his confession.

“Nah, not anymore. I help my friends out with short films sometimes, but that’s about it.”

“If you ever want to get back into directing, I can help you out.”

Chanhee looks like his breath has been stolen away, staring at you dumbly.

“I don’t know if I can give you a position directly, but I can definitely link you up with fellow directors of mine and see if there are any film festivals looking for submissions.”

“Thank you,” he mutters hoarsely, “I don’t have an answer for you right now, but what you just said means the world to me.”

Chanhee does the unexpected, wrapping you in a hug this time around. It’s meaningful and tender, and he burrows himself into you as he clutches your shoulders tightly, never wanting to let go. The same shoulders that he once tried to pry your hands off are now encircling you, and you smile against his cheek.

“It’s no problem,” you voice honestly, pulling back to look at him. “I’m always here for you, just remember that.”

You told him the last date would be a little different, but seriously, Chanhee was not expecting a van.

You wave from the front seat, putting aside your phone as he scrambles into the front seat. Chanhee quirks an eyebrow at you, urging you to spill, and you take in a deep breath as you struggle to get the words out.

“So… um, you know how celebrity couples usually have pictures of them making out in their cars, right?”

Chanhee stares at you incredulously, and you grimace, biting your lip.

“I know it sounds bad, but it was Vernon’s idea, I promise! We just need to kiss a couple of times for the pictures, that’s it. It can’t be too bad, right?”

“Y/N,” Chanhee sighs, massaging his temples, “are you crazy? We haven’t even kissed once before this.”

“Well, now is a good time to start, right?” you ask sheepishly, “Look, Vernon paid some guys to photograph us, so they’ll be here any time now. Let’s just get this over with.”

Before he can even blink, you clamber over into his lap, resting your legs on either side of his and holding onto his shoulders. Chanhee gulps, too loudly for the silence that settles between you two, and he’s close enough to you that he can feel your heartbeat thumping wildly.

Good to know that you’re just as affected as him too.

You guide his arms around your waist, securing them tightly before looking back up at Chanhee. The last time he’s ever seen you this close is from when he saved you from falling, and somewhere in the depths of his heart, he admits to himself how much he actually missed it. The fluttering of your lashes, the indents of your mouth, and the sliver of your jawline are all something he wants to commit to memory, to burn into his mind before he loses you.

Chanhee would write a whole article just about your lips if he had to.

“Ready?” you ask, so close that he can feel your breath on his.

He nods, and before he can even lick his lips, you lean in, meeting him halfway with yours.

Chanhee feels like he’s in oblivion, completely succumbing to the darkness that you’ve slowly been feeding him with. You’re like poison, and as he slots his lips against yours, he can’t get enough. You’re killing him with the way you pull him in closer, imperceptibly close as if you two aren’t practically molded together already, and as Chanhee uses one of his arms to tilt your neck, you reciprocate with just as much fervor.

You pull back, catching your breath and your chest heaving, but it takes Chanhee only one glance at your swollen lips before pulling you back in again. He’s addicted to the way your tongue swipes across his entrance, the way you shiver as he gently tugs your bottom lip between your lips, and the way you clutch onto his hair as the two of you exchange life through your kisses.

“Just a couple, baby?” he whispers, pecking down the side of your face, “I can give you a lot more than that.”

He tugs your sleeve down as you whine, tilting your head to give him better access to the area. He nips and sucks at your collarbone, biting hard enough to bruise in spots that you’ll probably scold him for later. He wants them to be deep enough, red enough that you won’t even be able to cover them so the whole world will know you’re his, and he knows it’s well worth it with the way you groan as he keeps going.

“I wish could stay like this forever,” you gasp, preening away when he nips behind your earlobe. “I never want to let you go. My boyfriend. Mine. Forever.”

He hums in agreement, pressing a kiss to your neck before he stops. You whimper, angry at him for pausing his ministrations, but as he processes your words, the hazy fog he was in moments prior fades away, and all that is left is the consequences of his actions.

“What’s wrong?” you ask when you realize he’s stopped completely.

Chanhee is shaking from underneath you, glassy-eyed, and his fingers tremble as he removes them from your body.

“Boyfriend,” he dumbly repeats, and you nod before realizing the mistake you made.

“Chanhee, I—”

“Get off me. Please.”

You stare at him incredulously, and when he doesn’t make any move to take back his words, you climb off him and into the seat next to you.

“This is all fake. Why do I keep forgetting that?”

He laughs bitterly, watching as your face morphs into a frown. How could he be so careless, to lose himself in you when this is all clearly just an act?

“Chanhee, I know this was planned, but the way I kissed you was definitely not fake.”

You sound hurt, and if he was in a better headspace, he would be calmer with his words, but the weight of what just happened is sinking down on him hard. Suddenly, he needs to leave, to never see you again and to not spend any more time in this stupid, suffocating van. He opens the door, climbing out before shutting it behind him firmly, breathing in heavily as he staggers away from the vehicle.

“Chanhee,” you cry, running up behind him and grabbing onto his wrist, “you don’t understand!”

“Then help me understand!”

“I like you,” you whisper, and suddenly, his whole world shatters.

“Of course you like me,” he laughs, running a hand over his face. “Do you not realize that you have an insane amount of privilege to be saying that? I can’t even like you in return because my career hinges on hating you! Don’t you get it, Y/N?”

You’re full on sobbing now, observing as he wrenches your hand away from his. Your fingers fall limply to your side and all you can do is watch as he walks away, shaking his head.

“Don’t contact me. I never want to see you again. Fuck you, for real, for playing with my feelings.”

You can only stare as the love of your life walks away, leaving your universe in shambles.

Unfortunately, just because you encountered the worst breakup of your life does not mean the world stops moving.

You’re at another after party, one that you’d been looking forward to for months because it would finally mean you’d get to catch up with some of your old costars. However, after the chaos that had befallen you earlier this week, going to some stupid nightclub was the last thing on your mind.

Really, you’re only here because Vernon is sick and tired of you wallowing in your misery. He thinks that you’ll be getting a change of scenery by being here, but the only thing you’ve been getting is shots filled with the strongest alcohol the bar can offer. Your one goal is to successfully forget about the black-haired man that ruined your life, and your plan is effective until the bartender stops you from getting another round and tells you to get some fresh air.

You grumble as you stumble out of the bar, finding a home on the gray sidewalk in front of it. Your sequined outfit digs into your skin as you sit down, but in your drunken stupor, you can’t find it within yourself to care. You’re lucky enough that this is a nicer venue, because there’s no one around to bother you to find another spot. It’s just you and your thoughts, and you can’t tell if that’s more dangerous or not.

Your first order of business is to pull out your phone, scrolling through your recent contacts. You have half a mind to call Vernon, to curse him out from condemning you to the hell that is this place, but instead your finger hovers over a familiar contact.

You are so going to hate yourself when you wake up.

The line rings, once, twice, thrice, and just as you’re about to cut the call, a voice answers from the other side.

“Y/N, it’s three in the morning. I thought I told you not to contact me,” Chanhee whispers groggily.

“Well too bad! You’re the one that said all that shit to me and left, so how unfair is it that I don’t get my turn?”

The line goes silent before Chanhee scoffs, and you can hear the bedsheets rustle around him as he gets up.

“Are you drunk?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you answer, giggling from how similar this is to when you first met him.

“Where are you right now?”

“Outside a nightclub,” you sing, holding your phone out behind you so he can hear the EDM music from inside a little better.

“Send me your location.”

“Nope! I don’t owe you anything, you piece of shit!”

“Y/N, wait—”

You cut the call, laughing as Chanhee’s name disappears on your screen. He calls again, neverendingly, but you never once pick up, feeling glee from how he’s the one chasing after you now.

You play Candy Crush on your phone until a car screeches beside you, and you scoff as you recognize the familiar red Toyota Solara pulls up beside you. You’ve sobered up by now, but you still hate him just as much.

“Hell no,” you whisper, getting up as Chanhee steps out. You try to run, but the highness of your shoes make it hard for you to run properly, and you stumble as attempt to escape.

“Y/N, look, I’m just going to drop you off at home, okay?”

You stop in your tracks, turning around to see Chanhee behind you with his hands stuffed in his hoodie. You note the eyebags on his face and his chapped lips before speaking to him with a softer tone, grateful that even if he despised you, he didn’t make an attempt to grab onto your wrist and coerce you into something you didn’t want.

“How do I know you won’t kidnap me?” you ask, folding your arms over one another.

“I asked Vernon for your location. If you go missing, he’ll know it was my fault.”

You grumble, staring at him angrily before walking towards his car. He opens the door for you, but you stick your tongue out at him and find a spot in the backseat instead.

The ride is silent, but you feel him watching you through the rearview mirror as he drives. Usually, you don’t mind his silence, but now the stillness is bleak and uncomfortable, just like his presence near you.

“Why did you call me?” he asks, and it takes you a moment to register it because of how intensely you’d been ignoring him.

“I wanted to cuss you out.”

“Okay, so cuss me out then.”

You sigh, rubbing your temple.

“You know what your problem is, Chanhee? You’re self-centered. You think everything is about yourself, even down to our breakup. Who are you to even say things about my privilege when you know damn well how hard I worked to get here? Do you think I’m unaware how my feelings will affect your career? Hell, Chanhee, I literally told you I could help you find another job! I did so much for you to protect you, to support you, all for you to throw it away because you’re scared of the stupid future.”

“Y/N, I—”

“Let me finish. I love you for who you are. Even if we were destined to be opposites, I still found a way to fall in love with you. I was able to love you despite all that you have written about me in the past, so why can’t you love me for the person I am today?”

He pulls up to the front of your apartment, and you clamber out, not wanting to see his face anymore. The rain falls heavily as you step into the lobby, and Chanhee follows suit, shrugging the droplets off his jacket.

“Let me follow you up,” he asks.

You shake your head, but he trails you into the elevator anyway, watching as you press the button for your floor. He opens his mouth to speak, but you’re not in the mood, putting up a palm in front of him.

“Save it. I said what I needed to say. I might be drunk but my words are true. I don’t want to hear anything you have to say in return.”

Despite your words, you let him into your apartment anyway, throwing a towel at him so he can dry off. He pats his hair dry, wiping his glasses against the fabric, and suddenly you’re reminded of how devilishly handsome he is. You shake your thoughts off, chalking it down to good taste in men before wiping down your neck.

The thunder booms outside, startling you as your towel falls to the ground. When you pick it up, Chanhee stares at you, an indiscernible expression on his face.

“Thanks for the towel. I better get going.”

He spins on his heel to leave as the storm crackles, and against your better judgement, you call out for him to stop.

“It’s storming outside. You can’t drive in this weather.”

“What are you suggesting?” he asks, turning back around to meet your gaze.

“You can take my bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Chanhee laughs, as if your idea is so atrocious he can’t even fathom it.

“You’re funny. I’ll just drive home, don’t worry.”

“Chanhee, I’m being serious. I don’t want you to die, for god’s sake.”

Maybe he registered the concern in your voice because he exhales, contemplating in his head if this is a good idea or not. The loud thunderclap outside has him reconsidering, and soon enough, he shakes his head in agreement.

“Alright, but you have to sleep on the bed. I’ll take the couch.”

“Chanhee, I’m not fucking arguing with you. You know what? We can both take the bed if it makes you happy. A pillow between us should work.”

Before Chanhee can even respond, you’re walking into the bedroom, flicking on the light. You grab your pajamas from the closet and change in your bathroom, slipping into the sheets quickly once you’re done. Chanhee follows suit, taking the right side of the bed and placing a pillow between you two for added measure.

“Thank you,” he whispers after a few moments of silence. “I’ll be gone in the morning before you know it.”

“No need,” you grumble, shoving your face into the pillows, “just don’t roll over to my side, okay?”

He hums in agreement, and he watches as your eyes flutter shut.

“Good night, Y/N.”

You’re far too asleep to even respond.

You wake up to the sound of your head pounding in your ears. You grumble, shifting around before you open your eyes, expecting to see empty sheets, but instead you see a man with a very familiar face.

You as the events of last night rush back to you, and you hold yourself back from groaning as you recollect your thoughts. You should’ve just let him leave when he wanted to, but you didn’t, and now you have to deal with his beautiful bare face and his deep morning voice as if you haven’t fallen enough for him already.

You don’t register his eyes fluttering awake until he pokes your side. You shake, startled by his actions, and he tries to hold back a smile.

“Good morning. Sorry I overslept.”

“It’s okay. I won’t be nice enough to let you stay for breakfast though.”

“Wait,” he whispers, clutching onto your arm as you attempt to get out of the bed, “can I say something?”

You nod, and his arms falls back on the bed as he sits up, clearing his throat.

“You were right. I was selfish, and the words I said that day were extremely uncalled for. They were useless too, because if I had just expressed my feelings to you, we wouldn’t have needed to have this conversation now.”

You cock your head, confused at what he’s trying to imply. He takes in a deep breath, as if he’s preparing himself to say something.

“I love you. I love you so fucking much that it hurts to breathe when I think of you. I love you so much that I’m willing to quit my career just to be by your side. I was scared then of ending up on the streets like I did in the past, but I was stupid enough to not trust your words when you said you would help me. I didn’t even like that job anyway, so I was an idiot for trying to fight for something I would eventually end up leaving myself.”

“Chanhee, you’re not—”

“No, I am stupid. And selfish. And self-centered. But I am also just Choi Chanhee, the Choi Chanhee who is irrevocably and utterly in love with you, and even though I can imagine a future where I won’t be working for Sangyeon, I cannot imagine a future without you by my side. I know you deserve better, but I’m begging you to just give me one chance to rectify my mistakes. We can take it slow and not rush things like we did in our four weeks. We can go on silly restaurant dates and I’ll practice getting used to the lights at red carpets. I’ll visit you on set every day with flowers and I’ll rent out five billion vans for us to make out in. I’ll do all this and even more because you deserve it, and because I love you. Will you please let me have one chance to make this fake relationship into a real one?”

You’re kissing him before he can even respond, letting him press you against the bed. He kisses you like he’s been starved, inhaling you and memorizing every inch of your presence as if you’ll let go of him again. Like before, you’re not restricted by the millions of voices against you and Chanhee, and as he lets himself go, you follow suit, dragging him down under until you’re writhing against him, begging for more.

“I love you,” he whispers when he kisses down your collarbone, “I love you,” he whispers when your clothes join the ground, “I love you,” he whispers when you shake against his fingers and mouth.

“I love you,” he whispers one last time, cradling you gently as he becomes one with you. “I’ll never let you go. Never again.”

As you lay against him, bare skin to bare skin, you trace the tips of his hair as you smile. You don’t know what the future holds for you two, but there’s one thing you’re certain of as you press another kiss to his mouth.

"I love you. Even if the world caves in, it’ll be you that I lie with. Endlessly, until my last dying breath.”

This time around, you take things slow, not restricted anymore any more by four weeks, four months, not even four years. You have the entirety of your lifetime to spend with him, and you intend on using every single bit of it.

First, however, you let him make it up to you. Just because you bared your soul to him, figuratively and literally, after his apology doesn't mean you've completely forgiven him.

Chanhee doesn't disappoint though, reminding you every single day why he deserved the second chance you gave him. Once upon a time, he called you privileged, and that's exactly what you are now for having such a sweet boyfriend. One that doesn't leave the vase on your countertop empty by gifting you fresh flowers, one that always opens the door for you when he takes you on apology dates, one that sits with you in silence when you want to and one that chatters just as much as you do when you can't shut your mouth.

He visits you on set when he can despite his busy schedule as an assistant director. Surprisingly, you played no part in this, just the source of his determination when he finally decided to give the movie industry a chance again and bagged a job with none other than your close friend Juyeon. He surprises you for late-night drives and lets you have the aux even without you asking for it. He accompanies you to movie premieres despite hating the cameras and if you ever get asked questions that you don't particularly like, he'll glare at the reporters until they shoo away.

And god, the kisses. If the world counted kisses as an apology, Chanhee would be the CEO. Every slot of his lips against yours is like an unwritten confession from him to you, and every purse of his lips is a ballad from the depths of his heart. He kisses you for trivial things, like when you finally get that one specific line right as you're practicing for a script or when he's pecking you against the makeup trailer walls as he wishes you a successful day at work. He kisses you in the earliest of mornings, murmuring sweetness with his tongue against your hot skin, and he kisses you in the depths of the night, trailing his fingers down as you gasp against his mouth and exchange breaths through each swipe of his tongue.

Even after you do end up accepting his apology, he doesn't stop showering you with the affection you deserve. On nights you're feeling particularly insecure, Chanhee beats himself up and vows to never make you feel those emotions again, waking up the next morning to prove exactly why you're worth it. He takes care of you gently, the gentlest lover you've ever seen. He's the personification of a comfortable morning, the desire to stay in bed despite all the things you have going on. You never want to leave, forgetting all reason and staying in his embrace forever.

You're by his side when his first cinema blows up, when his first screenplay wins an award, when he gets his first nomination for directing, and today when he's on stage with an Academy Award in his hand and a smile you'll remember for ages.

You watch the twinkling in his eyes when he thanks his cast and crew, holding onto his assistant director tightly as he expresses his gratitude. What takes your breath away, however, is when he turns to you in the audience and whispers a confession that you'll never forget in your lifetime.

"And lastly, thank you, you know who you are, for being the best I could ever imagine. I will never regret the moment by the pond where you hugged me, the one that changed the trajectory of our lives forever. If anything, you deserve this award more than me. I love you, my Y/N."

You smile as the audience erupts in cheers, but as his assistant director hugs him on stage, his eyes only bore into yours.

"I love you too," you mouth back, watching as he grins when he recognizes your words.

"Forever and always."

#text #deoboyznet #dbn: holiday party #bluesia #chanhee #chanhee x reader #choi chanhee #tbz #tbz x reader #chanhee imagines #chanhee angst #chanhee scenarios #chanhee blurbs #choi chanhee angst #choi chanhee x reader #choi chanhee scenarios #kpop x reader #kpop #kpop angst #kpop fluff #the boyz #tbz fluff #tbz angst #tbz imagines #tbz scenarios

[ladykailitha]

Look, considering I've only gotten involved in Stranger Things after season four and therefore haven't been around the fans during other new season filming starts, but my brothers/sisters/nb in fandom what the honest fuck is going on right now?

I have been a part of other fandoms when new seasons started filming and the worst I'd seen was BBC Sherlock. And you lot are behaving worst then they did.

And Jesus fuck, that's a fucking low ass bar.

(Again I am ship and let ship, kinktomato, and headcanon free for all)

But this is just what I've seen in my small deliberately secluded corner of the internet so forgive me if I get some things wrong.

Ronance fans have turned on Steddie fans.

Steddie fans are trying to eat each other over who tops and who bottoms between two horny, barely out of their teens, men.

Eddie is confirmed dead.

Dustin is trying to become Eddie.

People want Will dead because Noah Schnapps said some stupid shit regarding genocide.

And Argyle isn't coming back.

I'm going to give you my feelings on these so buckle up lets go:

1- Steddie and Ronance fans have turned on each other. And I know this because I doom scroll through steddie tag. That Ronance fans think Steddie fans are delusional and that they're going down after season five airs and there will be more Ronance fans because they're perfect for each other.

Where to even begin on this? First, never tell a shipper that their ship is never going to be canon because they don't care. Just ask all the Destiel, johnlock, and merarthur fans. Steddie fans are just going to ignore all but the most salient parts of season 5 if Eddie doesn't come back and write AUs for the rest of their lives. You know, like they have since the last scene on the Piggyback faded to black?

Secondly, I don't think I've seen much Ronance without Steddie. Granted I only read Steddie, but it seems that the two ships are tied pretty heavily together. The fruity four comes to mind. So maybe it's that they're getting tired of being a side ship next to a massive one like Steddie. Who knows. But apparently they're bitter.

And I say that because they keep tagging their anti-Steddie posts as Steddie to make sure we see it. Honestly, I just block them and go about my day. But seriously, I've never understood people's need to be shitty like posting hate on the tag for that thing. If you don't like it, fine. Block and move on.

Thirdly. Lastly. Maybe. I don't like Ronance. I saw the charms when I first joined the fandom and it was cute. Until the more I read and I realized that most of the time they don't bring up that Jonathan is even a person let alone Nancy's current boyfriend. That most of the time Steve is written wildly out of character about not caring that they're a couple and that he just wants them to be happy. Like, one Jonathan is severely under used in the fics I've read. Like Will doesn't have an older brother anymore. It's all Steve or Eddie. Which considering how you like your flavor of queer for Eddie or Steve (gay/pan/bisexual) Will talking to them about being gay makes sense, but Jonathan showed us in the last season that he is going to protect Will no matter what. Then blip! in fanfics, he's gone.

And then the whole Steve being okay with Robin not only dating an ex-girlfriend of his, but the ex. The one he thought he was going to marry. The one he dreamed a whole fucking future on. That was still hurt by two fucking years later. You either think very lowly of Steve or you just don't care. Because if you think Robin and Steve are the same person/share the same braincell/ride or die for life, there is no way even if Nancy threw herself at Robin would she even consider it. (I can write a whole ass post just on this by the way, don't get me started.)

2- This is the most recent bullshittery due to a current event about Sub Eddie. This is the worst discourse in any fandom and the worst offenders on either side tend say the most homophobic shit imaginable.

And it's pointless. Whether you think Steve is a top or bottom, whether you think he's dom or a sub. Same with Eddie. Everyone has their own flavor they prefer and they won't always match up with yours.

Personally I write them whatever feels natural for the story. But here's the major crux of the matter. I don't believe a little nerd in Bumfuck, Indiana has any idea what flagging is. I'm sorry. Left pocket, right pocket. Doesn't matter. The likely of him even knowing what BDSM is is pretty slim. I grew up in a small town. There will be some people that know, but that's because they know adults in the scene.

Don't like, don't read. Seriously, guys. Let people enjoy what they want to.

My personal feelings on the matter is that Steve is a bottom/sub because he deserves to be taken care of and Eddie would absolutely want to be that person for Steve, in and out of the bedroom. Again, you do you, beau.

3- The tombstone. Sigh. It was hard to see that. Not just because it confirms he's dead, but because it's been defaced. Most likely like fans have said, "BURN IN HELL" the poor bastard.

Having a tombstone doesn't necessarily preclude Eddie's return. There are several ways he can still comeback Kas! theory not withstanding. But the wank here is people jumping on Steddie shippers and Eddie fans in general pointing and screaming "see!"

Like we didn't have campaigns for Barb and Bob and (Billy). If someone's favorite character has died, don't be dicks when they want them to be resurrected a la Jim Hopper. Because that right there is the main reason people will still hold out hope until the final scene fades to black, okay?

I guess this one is just be nicer to each other, okay?

4- *sob* like holy fuck. Dustin you sweetheart. The long hair, the torn Hellfire t-shirt, the rings. The horns and sticking out his tongue. That poor boy needs several hugs STAT! And of course, people can't leave well enough alone on Facebook, I couldn't tell you how many of the comments were "steddie fans are going to make this all about them, aren't they?" Even though there wasn't a single comment by a Steddie making it about Steve/Eddie. But so many eye rolls. The other half were death threats against Noah Schnapp.

Which brings me to...

5- Noah Schnapp said some really shitty things about Zionism and the attack on Gaza. There is no escaping that. He said them. He double downed on them. And while yes it sucks he said those things, let's not forget he's still young and stupid. He's barely 18/19 years old. I remember being that age and saying stupid fucked up shit, and hoo boy does this make me grateful I was well into adulthood when the internet became a thing (24ish).

There are a lot of reasons to be upset by his comments and I get that. But death threats and calls for his dismissal/boycotts just seems excessive to me.

One, because the story began with a kidnapped little boy and a runaway little girl. If you get rid of one of them especially this close to the end it would fuck up the story. Now if there was more than one season left, sure. But this is literally the end. And for all we know, Will's character may already be doomed by the narrative. So calling for it now isn't go to do anything. Especially since they already had all the scripts written and would have finished filming if it hadn't been for the strikes.

Two, one person on the cast said something stupid and hurtful and you want to boycott the entire show for it? Like, what did David Harbor, Joe Keery, Maya Hawke, Millie Bobby Brown and all the others do to deserve you boycotting their show? If the last season tanks it could seriously hurt their careers, but hey Noah Schnapp said something bad, so fuck them?

I'm going to stop there, because this is another one I can go on and on about, but yeah. Don't hurt other people in your rush to vilify an 18 year old.

6- Eduardo Franco recently said that he didn't get a call so he didn't think he would be back. He was sure that ship had sailed.

Fans are upset, naturally. Argyle was a sweetheart and deserves better than to be cut from the story like that.

But thanks to the incident with David Harbor and Jim Hopper supposedly being dead, a lot of fans are saying he's only saying that because it's a "secret" he's coming back. Which would make sense for Eddie or any of the other character died. Martin Brenner, for example, but not Argyle. There would be no need for subterfuge. Plus, he would already be out in Georgia if he was coming back.

It's sad that he was done dirty this way, but if they split up the filming like they've done before there is still a chance he might get to come back, but as far as the current filming is concerned, yeah Argyle isn't coming back.

***

Just... be kind to each other. Remember that the other people on the end of the URL is an actual person with feelings. That people can like what they like so if they aren't hurting you, don't hurt them, okay?

#my writing #stranger things #ladykailitha rants #tw wank #fandom wank #season 5

[daydreamsandcrashingwaves]

Keeping It Close To The Chest (KICTTC) pt. 2

Wow, I really was inspired! It really warms my heart that so many people enjoyed it as well! Again I Frankensteined this together as parts of it came to my brain, then connected them all. I swear I shuffled things like 5 times.

Be safe, make good choices

TW/CW: Child abuse, child murder, death, child death (Danny), Shock/ptsd symptoms, Guilt/ self-blame, Child warriors/soldiers, blood, familial abuse/ neglect

~~~ IF I MISSED A TAG please let me know, I want everyone to be able to make the informed choice that is best for them! ~~~

Here is part one in case you missed it!

Part three Part four

Happy holidays my friends :3

~Ren

One two three four five six. In. Hold.

The air in the bat cave was chilly. As usual.

One two three four five. Out. Again.

Usually, moisture clung to Damian’s skin and clothes. Today it seemed harsh and dry like even the cave was voicing its displeasure and passing judgement. It added to his melancholy and nostalgia.

One two three four five six. In. Hold 

His first week in Gotham the rain had been coming down in heavy sheets, he had never seen a storm quite as wild before. He had felt small standing on the Wayne manor doorstep next to Mother, with the wind and rain whipping around them, cradling them in water. He shivered at the memory. Damian had only known the weather in Nanda Parbat, being so close to Ladakh the weather alternated between dry and hot to freezing temperatures in the winter. True downpours were rare due to where the base had been built.

One two three four five. Out. Again

The nights were long and cold. Their room only outfitted with bare essentials, had none of the comfort he had now. Damian can still recall how his little body would shiver and shake no matter how hard he tried to still it. Many winter nights under the protection of the dark, Danny would cross their room to slip under his covers. Two little bodies next to each other, the warmth soothing their bruises and sore muscles while they watched the snow drift down from the window. 

One two three four five six. In. Hold

Damian was not in shock as Tim may have suggested. No. He would never fall so far that emotional distress would prevent him from what must be done. The nervous tick to his heart was because of his worry for Danyal. Damian had only accepted the heat reflective blanket so Father would leave him be. He clutched the edges in an attempt to refocus. He cannot remember who dragged the plush chair into the batcave but he supposed being comfortable while waiting for Danyal to wake was acceptable. Damian also grudgingly could admit to himself, they were kind to place it so he maintained visual on his little brother.

One two three four five. Out. Again

Danyal’s blood had stained his costume. Green and red, Damian’s colors but now, well. He’d start by asking Alfred to take a look, see if it could be cleaned but maybe it was time to follow in his sibling’s footsteps and completely change his armor out for something that didn’t threaten to drive him to his knees. 

One two three four five six. In. Hold

He wanted to be clean, so he'd be allowed in Danyal's room, but he was stuck where he was. Some parts of his clothes were wet still, other less saturated parts were dry and itchy and uncomfortable. He idly scratched at some, and then abruptly stopped when the flakes caught under his nails. He’d have to talk with Danny about why it seemed his green blood tingled against his skin.

One two three four five. Out. Again

( He would bite his tongue though, he's not so dense to miss the fact that prying is glaringly rude, and he doesn't want to give his brother anymore reasons to run from him. Even if he wondered why Danyal's blood smells like rotting food and sweaty locker room with a touch of something he couldn't name. It was a nauseating combination instead of the iron he has grown used to.)

One two three four five six. In. Hold

Toxic green it was always that blasted bright green. Grandfather lived as long as he did due to the pits, the pits brought Jason back, now Danyal was affected, and he had no idea what to do. He was scared. He was so sacred.

One two three four five. Out. Again

"Heyy Bud, maybe it's time to change and shower?" Richard's voice comes from behind where Damian slumped. Damian allows a quick glance at his eldest brother, before he turns his gaze back to Danny's prone form on the bed.

No, he hadn't flinched at the sudden noise, he obviously knew Richard was approaching his seat. Even if his brother is eyeing him with that look like he knows what Damian is thinking. Damian bites his cheek until he splits the skin. Which he can't. He can try to understand because of his experiences with Jason's death, but. Danny was Damian's twin. His other half, they had always been together. Richard can't possibly understand the guilt he carried for not realizing Danny's plan when he realized something had changed the look in his twin's eye, or how ashamed he is for the sliver of pride he felt afterwards when Grandfather handed Damian with his personal kodachi, a blade every member had coveted. How it felt like betrayal that he had thrived in the League those five years after Danyal's death.  

He doesn't know what that's like to lose an intrinsic part of you. He had a family before being adopted by Father. The Wayne's had been allowed to stop for Jason's death. Dick had been allowed to mourn his little brother, to erect a grave to sit with. Damian only had had Danyal and then he died, and Damian was never able to speak of Danyal again until now. Hell, Grandfather was pleased to have taught Damian a lesson on rooting out weakness. He regrets not trying to bring life to those memories he cherishes.

Damian's frustrated with himself, the small movement was meant to be a reach for one of the knives that are still lining his body. Inescapable evidence he is balancing precariously on a knife's edge. Evidence Richard is no doubt started collecting the minute he had realized Damian recognized him. A fierce scowl finds its way onto Damian's face as he clenches the material of his pants between his fists. He wants to scream. If he were Jason, he'd snort at his brother's insistence in taking Bruce's place when he glitches over big emotions, when inevitably hides from his children until he's done processing.

Damian doesn't say anything though for a couple minutes, he knows Richard is caring and kind but the idea of talking about feelings with his sappiest brother has Damian suppressing a shutter. He doesn't want to talk about any of this, even if he knows his grace period to collect his thoughts is running out quickly.

"I'll stay with him while you're gone." Richard offers quietly, "Babybat, please?"

The name hasn't bothered Damian in years but now it has him seething and baring his teeth.  "Do not call me that Grayson." Damian has never been the baby of the family, that spot has always been Danny's.

No one has questioned his prickly disposition since his arrival or knows why he hates their pet names or where and he disappears on his birthday. They dismissed it with condescending smiles, ruling it as him finally acting like a child, more anger, less murder. Like throwing a tantrum over a ripped toy. How has he managed to fool a family of crime fighting detectives?... He's the superior son of course. The sentiment rings hollow, if they don't know it's because they didn't bother to ever really get know Damian past his carefully constructed front. Truly, Damian thought, a ten-year-old fooling all of the Bats and Wings is ridiculous. Damian is stubborn to a fault and decided if they think his grief is equal to an upset child, well he wasn't going to point it out for them. It took Danyal dropping from the sky for them to realize, there was more to Damian than they knew.

Grayson is watching him carefully now, but his posture remains open, relaxed, his warm smile still firmly in place. Even if Damian knows the tightness at the corners indicates his rising anxiety. Damian still wants to break those perfect teeth of his.

This isn't easy for him, why would he make it easier for them.

Instead of acting on his impulse to maim, he paces closer to the glass, allowing himself to remember their childhood, Danny had burned brightly in the darkness the League surrounded itself in -too brightly- and ultimately snuffed out. Danny was all enthusiastic questions, witty remarks and freely given smiles. He had intended to tell Father about his dead twin, had been preparing how to report the situation just right in the time it took to travel from Nanda Parbat to Gotham with Mother, surely Father would let him speak of Danyal, even once would have been enough.

The whole point of Mother sending him away to live with Father was to get him away from the League and Grandfather's influence. Away from his wretched rules that prevented him from honor Danyal as he should. Mother had tried to hide her emotions away but when Grandfather had started talking about Damian like he did Danny those last few months and -well, Damian was an excellent assassin being the son of Talia Al Ghul and Bruce Wayne; two of the most resourceful people out there- he knew what her fear looked like in the forced steadiness of her hand as she lead him away, the sorrow in her brow. He knew his Grandfather would soon order him dead as well.

Mother had him pack his bag and took him to Father, one twin lighter than planned. His Father was nothing as expected. Damian had imagined someone like Mother, always calm and collected, her icy displeasure, her quiet pride. Batman was close to expectation, Bruce Wayne on the other hand was loud, emotive, emotionally compromised. Damian would've shrunk under his Father's attention that first meeting if not for his rigorous training. Anger, guilt, resentment all flew around the room. He kept the secret of his twin buried where it couldn't hurt anyone; he had seen Father's reaction to Damian, nothing good would happen if he told Bruce. The detective would surely push and pry until their secrets lay at his feet, once a mystery was presented to him Batman would stay on it until he was satisfied with the answers. The destruction would only be regretted in the aftermath.  

It was demeaning to allow his new family to think he lacked in his training but for those first few months with Danny saturating his thoughts Damian would turn to where Danyal would be at his elbow, would open his mouth to whisper in Arabic to share their secrets like they used to or he would leave his blind spots wide open, shame and grief had warred inside him for a long time. Damian had loved his little brother with everything he had and then he was gone- killed by his own hand at his Grandfather's request. The Waynes had given him this new family with assorted siblings overnight, and itmade him breathless to acknowledge that Danyal would never thrive in this warmth. 

(Danny had been a mischievous child, witty and too smart for his own good to the frustration of their teachers. Even if he fell short in martial arts and weapons training compared to his older brother, he was better at blending quietly into the shadows. The twins shared a fierce protectiveness between them of course but Danyal? Danyal was creative, had an inherent genius for tricks and traps. Danny who cried in their room after a mission but did not hesitate with those who disrespected Damian. The only evidence their teachers would find was the self-satisfied look on Danny's face, much to their anger. With no evidence to show Grandfather they were forced to be content with pushing them harder until one of them collapsed and then took glee in punishing the one who fell behind. (No matter how much Damian helped with Danyal's sword swings or his forms, his twin rarely beat him in a straight fight.) 

Danyal would crawl into his bed those nights seeking his twin's warmth in the cool desert night, and he'd fix Damian with this blazing look before shying away, moving his attention to Damian's hands he would trace every scar and callous until Damian drifted to sleep. Danyal would wake him before their trainer arrived and they'd steal a few quiet moments for themselves.

(The only time Damian woke before Danyal their hands were still between them entwined, his little hand was clutched tight-like Danyal was afraid of it being snatched away. Damian gave a little squeeze back and Danny's eyes fluttered open. When he saw Damian next to him his face stretched into Danny's true smile, soft, shy and sweet. A smile for Damian alone. He has started to forget what it looked like.)

Damian had been adrift in this new world away from the strict dogma the League required. The new rules he was expected to live by now were so different, he constantly wished Danyal was here for Damian to find some familiarity in. He was on an uncontrolled spiral those first months until he had given in to Richard's soft support. It had stung at first, to receive the affection that only Danny had given him in the past.

Richard was the one who noticed he was spending his free time sketching, dragged him out of the manor to give him his first bound sketchbook with charcoal and had beamed proudly the first time Damian allowed him to see it being used. Damian knew just how hard his brother loved their family, loved him. It was the only reason Damian quelled the urge to stab him, even if it was extremely tempting.

No, he must be intentional now. Strong in the face of what is sure to be murky doubt at Damian's claims. Tim had tried to run a paternity test with the blood from one of Danny's bandages Alfred had discarded- it came back with an error message about twenty minutes ago, but Tim was nowhere to be found. If he can bring Richard over to their side before the rest of their siblings or their father push their way into the batcave for answers, he'd manage to keep things relatively neutral while he argued his case.

Damian takes a deep breath strengthening his resolve. This is for Danyal, he will not misstep now with so much on the line.

If Damian fails to convince them, he will take Danny and run. Between the two of them no one would be able to find them unless they wished it to be so.

“Damian…” Dick says his name carefully, with as much feeling as he can, because he knows the shock of having his brother rise from the grave you buried him in. He aches that one of his siblings ever had to go through what he did. “ I think someone should be with you while we wait for him to wake up.”  

The sneer of disgust that overtakes Damian’s face at his words was expected and how familiar it was had Dick shoving aside the burst of fondness that it caused, and he cuts Damian off before he delivers what surely is a scathing reply.   

“I know you want to be by Danyal’s side, and I can see how much you love him…" Dick clears his throat when it threatens to close, he has to keep talking because this isn't just about Damian, this is about their baby brother that looked terrified under Damian's gaze in the warehouse. "You saw his injuries; I’m worried with how scared he was earlier Danyal may injure himself more if he feels overwhelmed.”

Damian’s eyes closed tightly against the agony that shot through his chest. He knew that. He didn’t need Richard’s reminder. For Danny to look at Damian with such terror, pleading with him- Damian has never hated himself more. He has no doubt this is truly Danyal, Damian knows clones don't carry scars, scars show the life you've lived, it's unique no way to replicate it. They were all there just like Damian remembered.

As heir Damian had to be cold and merciless in the League, he was used to those around him being afraid of his capabilities, of how easily he could snuff out their lives, at one point he had been proud of his Grandfather’s smile when he had heard his four-year-old grandson had taken down his trainer with ease. He had never been that way with Danyal, distant sure, he had to be under the League.

But now that he’s been away, had a chance to meet so many people he knew better. He never felt as alone as he does now, Dick besides him and Danyal resting close by. He never wanted to cause his brother such pain. Richard could be right, he was much more knowledgeable on feelings than Damian, who still stumbles on the finer intricacies of societal interactions. He.. He would do anything for his little brother and if that meant sending him far away from here, Damian would do it. Would help him escape Batman and Bruce Wayne who were both annoyingly persistent. The others.. he could convince, he had enough blackmail stored away for an important favor. It was enough knowing Danyal was alive. 

(No. He’s lying to himself. He’s so close to unraveling but will grit and bare it. It’s his responsibility, he always will look after Danyal. No matter the personal cost. He can practically feel Richard’s devastation from here; he’s sure his older brother is desperate to make this better, however he can. Damian won’t let him. He deserves Danyal’s fear, he was a murderer masquerading as a boy. A boy who in this moment aches to hold his little brother close like when they were kids. Beg his forgiveness and sob and marvel because his fear makes this real, his brother is alive. If Damian believed in miracles this would be his.)

He cannot afford to lose this head with Danny vulnerable in the next room, so he breathes a long breath through his nose again stubbornly not looking at Richard, keeps his eyes on his baby brother, watches his strange breathing rhythm raise and lower the sheets in reassurance his twin is still with him and turns his body towards Richard, a small concession.

"Danyal is my little brother, my twin." It's said slowly, Damian carefully controlled his tone, flat, to the point. Damian just had to get this report out, "When we were five Grandfather ordered that I lay claim my title as heir."

From the corner of his eye Damian can see Richard's smile tighten with tension in an effort to keep it there, now that Damian has started though he pushes past the guilt that has haunted him to finish, " I was superior in martial arts and weapons handling but I was too rigid, Danyal- he" Damian's throat is tight, like there is a rock in his throat, and he clears it quickly. "We excelled when we were together, he took to the things I had not. I knew I'd be Heir, being the eldest grandson. But-" He chokes and Richard makes an aborted motion to touch him. Thankfully he waits.

"But I knew he'd be my Shadow; We'd rule together as soon as I took my place at as the Demon Head... Until Grandfather made us duel." To the death goes unsaid but Damian could see the horrible realization breaking across Richard's face, so he turned his head to look at where the bats nest was among the stalactites. He could make out their mass if he looked hard enough. "Danyal threw himself onto my sword and I killed the person I promised to protect!" Damian pauses, and whispers into the air between them. "There was so much blood." It wavers in his mouth but doesn't break.

The truth burns as it's coming out. Damian got all the big things into the open, now he allows himself to fall into his elder brother's arms and weep. All his pain and regret soaking Richard's shoulder. His body is still sitting with Richard, but Damian is back in a time filled with sharp strikes, where punishment was to be embraced. Swords against whetstones. Legacies to be molded. Damian can hear the whoosh of leather through the air and on cold nights the scars on his back ache.

Damian shivers now in Richard's hold his breath clouding the space between them. Damian shoots straight out of Richard's arms as soon as he realizes it's not just his breath that's visible. The cave had gone from chilly to freezing in a flash. The temperature in the warehouse had dropped too, right before his twin came tumbling out of the sky. Something is wrong. In the time Damian had looked away something had begun to stir in the recovery room. The once steady if slow beating of his twin's heart now resembles an average heartbeat.

Energy pulses. Biting wind almost takes their feet off the ground. The lights burst, raining glass from the ceiling. Richard throws an arm around Damain and pulls him into one of those springy twists only he could do that brings them under some cover.

A shadow writhes in the dark of the recovery room and Damian struggles to free himself from Richard's grip. "Danyal!" He's becoming desperate. Danyal has to be alright. Damian cannot handle losing his baby brother again. Richard stays firm. "Let me go! Please he could be hurt." His voice cracks over the plead, he feels small. Small and helpless. Two things he swore that day he would never give into again.  

Running out of patience Damian swipes at him with a blade and when Richard yelps and releases his arm he rolls, pushing into a sprint once he drops. Only to stop cold a few feet from the door. Peeking up at him from the side of Danyal's bed are solid glowing green eyes.

Part Three 01/06/2024

#ddcwtxt #Keeping It Close To The Chest #ddcw.txt #daydreamsandcrashingwaves #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp #dc universe #batman #bruce wayne #jason todd #dick grayson #batfam #league of assassins #ras al ghul #Child abuse #physical abuse #child death tw #death tw #child murder #Shock #ptsd #guilt #supportive dick grayson #Good big brother Dick grayson #Dick Grayson and Jason Todd sibling relationship #child warriors #blood #danny and damian are twins #danny Fenton and Damian Wayne are twins #twin au

[l0velylecter]

I LOVE your ghost hc’s!!❤️, if you’re up for it can you make more angsty/toxic relationship (sorry if that sounds weird or if it makes you uncomfortable) headcannons with ghost? ❤️

imagine going through a divorce with simon ‘ghost’ riley, told through the five stages of grief 

— going through a divorce with simon ‘ghost’ riley, told through the five stages of grief rating : m for mature and suggestive themes pairing : f!reader / simon ‘ghost’ riley tags : angst, a lot of angst, minor mentions of violence, he won’t be a good partner no matter how much you want him to be, i wouldn’t say toxic because i’m can’t really stomach writing that, but more or so unhealthy relationship, he has anger issues and this might induce anxiety, he is self destructive and afraid of intimacy,  mentions of sex/smut fandom : cod mwii warnings : cursing, suggestive themes, mdni (minors don’t interact)

01 | You've lost count of the times you've denied that something is wrong between you and Simon. Once, you made the mistake of waiting on him for dinner, and he had entered the house with his mask pulled up to his nose — carrying a busted lip and several scars down his arms, his boots tracking blood and grime along the floor. Almost immediately: your concern was dismissed with anger — " Fucking hell, this is precisely why I didn't want you to wait. Cause you'd start running your mouth and asking all these bloody fucking questions."

With that, he stormed off into your room, leaving you to eat your home-cooked dinner alone: chewing on the cold meat so you won't cry. Ever since then, you keep telling yourself that he was just having a bad day, that he was just tired, that he was just trying his best. You never complained, even when his deployment grew longer, nor when he doesn't sleep in your bed anymore: always opting for the couch. Even when you barely talk and check up on one another. And even when he leaves almost immediately after you fuck without a kiss or a goodbye, you still convince yourself that Simon wasn't hurting you. That instead: he was just so full of hurt that it was overflowing out of him, and sometimes you can't help but be there when he spills.

02 | But Simon lives and breathes on anger, and it has become him. You were afraid of how much closer to a weapon he was than a man; how could he not hurt you when his jaw would clench at every minor inconvenience? Whether it was because you passed him the wrong tool when fixing his motorcycle or because you had locked yourself out of the house: Simon was always finding reasons to snap, and the worst part is that Simon doesn't realize it. Passive aggressive comments would turn into full-blown arguments, and worse, he would start throwing things. While your husband was not aiming at you, the cup had smashed into pieces — one of the strays flying to scratch you on the cheek. Immediately he fell on his knees in front of you, arms reaching out as if to touch. Yet when you flinched, he immediately slinked back. You couldn't take it anymore: breaking down into a sob, and as always, Simon only watched. That night, when he had left for his mission: you finally found the strength to sweep through the house. Somewhere into the argument, he had knocked over your picture together — your marriage had been a private ceremony between Simon and you. You couldn't stop the tears when you noticed for the first time in years that even at his wedding, his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. 

03 | Not wanting to give up just yet, you tried to bargain. You suggested that speaking with a professional might help — even going as far as booking appointments without Simon knowing. While he wasn't happy, your husband went nonetheless, proving that there is still hope. And slowly, you were starting to see him smile again. Oh, how you've missed it, missed him: you miss teaching him how to make paper cranes with the napkins as you wait for takeout. You miss his army humor over dinner and how he wiped the corner of your mouth with his thumb when you had sauce stuck there. You miss being able to kiss him goodnight and have him kiss you goodbye. It's just a shame that the good times are not enough to cover the bad. What's the point of all that hard work if he's just going to throw himself into battle again? It was like taking one step forwards and three steps back, and in the end, it doesn't matter how much you try, you were in love with a ghost; a shadow of a husband who used to exist in the past and now only lives in your head.  04 | To see the house so empty was more than depressing; without any furniture or tables, it was hard to believe that you once used to share a meal with Simon here almost every night. It was hard to believe you were ever married at all. You knelt to pick up the last box, nearly dropping it when Simon appeared by the doorway. Immediately you denied having gone through his things, and for a second, his eyes withered at the sight of you panicking — eyelids puffy and nose red. You both worked in silence, and while Simon kept his belongings to a minimum, it didn't stop him from staying to help you. It makes you feel worse knowing that within an hour, you felt more loved by him than in the years you were together, and it was on the day you both signed your divorce. For the sake of his identity, your marriage wasn't even on official records, so it was just an informal signing of the little paper you had kept for yourself. When he loaded the last box into your car, you couldn't help but burst into tears when you saw a miniature paper crane peeking out of his motorcycle bag. 

" Quit crying now," Simon murmured, pulling you into a hug for the first time in ages. He had a hand behind your head, stroking your hair, " It wasn't your fault. You made the right choice. Don't make this any harder for the both of us."

It all happened so fast: he lifted his bacalava to his nose to give you one last kiss on your lips, your scar, and your forehead. He even kneeled to tie your shoelaces when not even you realized they were loose. And when your ex-husband drove off, you didn't start the car until an hour later. 05 | Soap knew it was better not to poke around other people’s business, but he wasn’t the only one who found it strange that Ghost didn't carry any dog tags — and it was even stranger to see that he had two rings on his neck instead: the smaller band slotted perfectly inside the other. He asked Gaz about it, who asked Laswell about it, who asked Price about it, who eventually shut the ‘gossip’ down. Until Ghost got shot in the fucking chest, and a paper crane fell out of his pocket. 

“ Hey, Lt.” Soap asked through the comm, “ Why cranes ?”

There was a pause where Soap thought that this would be the part where he gets ignored for the third time that night.

“ They’re easy to make.”

“ So are planes. And frogs.”

He’s heard the man frustrated and angry, but Soap never heard him sad. Until the lieutenant finished recoiling his gun to curtly reply, “Because she said they mate for life.” 

His tone had been stern and final as if that was his way of accepting the past: Ghost never brought it up again.

a/n : first of all anon i’m sorry i suck at making head canons, i have to literally turn it into a story so the hcs have to be read in between the lines 😔 and i can’t make it purely toxic cause i can’t really stomach it so i have to make it more on the sad side, but i hope you enjoy this nonetheless ! Thanks for requesting <3

imagine the ‘exes who still love each other but know that being together is too painful’ trope + simon ‘ghost’ riley

headcanons of simon ‘ghost’ riley in a relationship with you ( and eventually, out of it )

#simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x y/n #ghost x y/n #ghost x reader #ghost call of duty #cod ghosts #ghost mw2 #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare ii #call of duty imagine #call of duty fanfic #call of duty headcanons #call of duty hc #cod headcanons #cod hcs #cod hc #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty mwii #samuel roukin #angst #hurt #grammarly is my beta

[thestobingirlie]

i don't ship stancy, im mostly indifferent to it, but i really don't get the lengths some anti-stancies, nancy stans (especially the ones that are massively anti steve), or r*nance shippers go to to discredit the stuff that happened in s4

"theyve been broken up for years" theyve been broken up for less than 18 months. Early November 84- late march 86 is about 17 months. Less than a year and a half. That's not long enough to qualify for the plural of "years". Saying that they've been broken up for years makes it seem like steve's in his 20s or 30s and is still pining over 'the one that got away' from high school. not a teenager that still has feelings for someone he's been broken up with for less than two years. its implied that nancy was his first 'serious' relationship. and based on what we know of his dating history post s2, his only serious relationship. its not unusual for there to still be some feelings there.

"steve wants to force nancy to have six kids even though she doesn't want kids/ a family." first nancy never said she didn't want kids/ a family, shes said she doesn't want to turn into her parents. steve never said he wanted nancy to birth six kids for him. he said he had a dream of having five or six kids and that nancy was there beside him. the number of kids doesn't matter. its him saying that he wants kids and to be a present dad. he wants a family and also doesn't want to turn into his parents, as its heavily implied that he's an only child with not great parents. Nancy said his dream sounded nice other than the six kids part. a more manageable number like maybe three kids could be the balance that would work for them.

"steve tried to get nancy to cheat on Jonathan despite knowing she was happy in their relationship." steve confessed his feelings to her in a life or death situation, after shed been showing some signs of being interested. he never said he wanted her to leave jonathan or that he expected her to just jump into his arms. he said he still had feelings for her in a high stress situation. and much of jancy's relationship in s4 doesn't read as happy. they've been together for 16-17 months, and almost half of that they've been in an ldr and they've had communication issues since before jonathan moved away.

sorry for they longs ask this is just something that's bugging me because i keep seeing this in the steve tag

i truly think so many anti stancies just hate steve, and that’s why all of their “explanations” just try to make steve look bad.

like saying it’s been years since they broke up. it’s been about a year and a half! and like you said, it’s pretty much his only serious relationship. according to joe keery, she’s the first girl to really listen to him. and he hasn’t had someone (romantically) like that since. steve was nancy’s first love (again, according to natalia). it wasn’t just some short thing. it was a serious relationship at a very emotional time.

also, i personally doubt that steve’s spent that year just pining for nancy, but they’re in a life and death situation, and i think all those feelings they left behind just came rushing back. they never truly got closure. it’s natural that being together, and fighting side by side and depending on each other would make everything between them come to the surface.

ugh the six kid thing is the bane of my existence (again, people use it to try to make steve seem weird, and pushy, and demanding). it’s so clearly a reference to the party lmao. like you said, nancy never said she doesn’t want kids, she said she doesn’t want to be stuck in a miserable relationship because that’s what everyone expects (which sounds more like s4 jancy tbh). and the crucial part of steve’s confession is that nancy is the most important part. not the kids. not the travelling. but nancy by his side. what matters to steve is that there’s love. which is what’s important to nancy too.

(and yeah. they ain’t having six kids LMAO)

yes!!! can people not confess feelings anymore without being accused of homewrecking two teenagers lol? he never said he wants them broken up. he thinks he may die!!! he wants it off his chest!!! nancy was, imo, the first to start the flirting, and steve figured… why not!

honestly couldn’t have said this all better myself.

#stancy #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #stranger things #asks #anon

[stevetonyisendgame]

It's the second day of work reveals for A Second Chance: A Steve/Tony Endgame Mini-Exchange and we have 7 fics and 2 artworks today!

Thank you to all participants - we’re so excited to share all these beautiful gifts with you! Enjoy and remember to leave kudos/comments for our hardworking creators to show your appreciation!! ❤️

A reminder to our dear creators that you can change the publication date of your works now that they have been revealed, so that they appear on the first page of the tags!

1. a beast of a burden for mrsgingles | FIC - 2.7k, T

Tony has secret conversations with Steve that even Steve isn’t privy to, even now. In those secret conversations, he says exactly the right thing to make Steve duck his head and smile, and when he confesses that Steve is the most infuriatingly beautiful thing the universe has ever come up with and he’s been madly in love with him for years, Steve admits he feels the same way. Then there are the conversations they actually have, which tend to go much worse because Tony is sarcastic and Steve is seething, and it’s a miracle they’re back on speaking terms.

2. The Five Stages of a Time Loop for embittered_ambition | FIC - 40k, M

Tony Stark looks Thanos in the eye. He raises his gauntlet in defiance and states his iconic phrase. He snaps, expecting death. But death doesn't come. Instead, he's back in his basement, completed time travel model in front of him. He builds the time machine. He snaps again. Again, and again, and again. Tony can't for the life of him seem to change the outcome of this story. What does change, though, is his feelings around it.'

3. Art Gift for Missy_dee811 | ART - G

As Steve prepares to return the stones, he hears a familiar voice.

4. One Final Surprise for XtaticPearl | FIC - 1.6k, G

Tony accidentally calls Steve from the flip-phone after his wedding gets called off.

5. I’m begging for you to take my hand for IronChantress3000 | FIC - 1.2k, T

Tony never saw anything as his.

6. It Was Always You for ralsbecket | ART - G

Everyone lives and nothing hurts :')

7. it’s that easy for zappedbysnow | FIC - 3.8k, T

Steve has two problems: 1. He has feelings for Tony but he’s not sure what to do about it. 2. Peter and Harley don’t seem to like him and he doesn’t know why. Actually, he has three problems. 3. There’s no way in hell Tony would be interested in him when his kids clearly hate him. Bucky thinks Steve’s only problem is that he’s an idiot.

8. i was put together wrong for MayBiTheWay | FIC - 11.7k, T

Even in his anger, in his misjudgment, or even in the barest glimpses of inadvertent cruelty, everything Tony did was with passion. No matter what, he was always graceful, grandiose, effusive. Incandescent. Tony grows in front of the cameras and keeps a world of expectations balanced on the tightrope of his shoulders, but nothing ever seems to be enough. The hubris is a fallacy and the smirk Steve had always known to be a front isn’t whimsy, as he’d expected; instead, it’s bred. As he follows a couple of his steps, Steve feels as Tony does, which is to say: intensely. Every happiness is a marvel, every pain is acute. The higher they fly, the harder they fall. (In which the stones beckon Steve into a glimpse of Tony's past, and it proves to be his unraveling.)

9. you’ve got to close your eyes and see for nostalgicatsea | FIC - 7.9k, T

Morgan manages to bring Tony back eleven years after Thanos’ defeat, long after everyone’s learned to live without him. Everyone’s overjoyed once they get over their shock, but Tony finds it hard to adjust, now that Pepper’s moved on and Morgan’s not a little kid anymore. Somehow, the one constant is Steve.

#stevetony #stony #superhusbands #steve x tony #steve rogers x tony stark #endgame event #announcement #endgame event reveals day 2

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Five Little Ducks

Fandom: DC Comics, Batman

Summary: Bruce finds a magically de-aged Jason.

Chapters: 5/13

Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Stephanie Brown, Duke Thomas, Zatanna Zatara

Additional Tags: De-Aged Jason Todd, Magic, Babysitting, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, POV Third Person, Bruce Wayne is Not Okay, Bruce Wayne Tries, Jason Todd Has Issues, Childhood Trauma

Chapter Five: Borda

Jason knocked on Bruce's door at two in the morning. Bruce groaned, forgetting Jason was seven years old, and he answered the door. He was so exhausted he never thought to look down. "Mr. Wayne," Jason whispered, "I did a bad thing."

"Oh? What did you do?" Bruce questioned, still not opening his eyes.

"I threw up," Jason mumbled. Bruce blinked hard and looked down at Jason. Jason had a greenish pallor, and his eyes were red and puffy.

"You threw up... That's alright. Are you done?" Bruce questioned. He was still half-asleep.

"I threw up on the rug," Jason mumbled. Bruce reached for Jason's hand, and Jason flinched.

"I'm not gonna hit you. Do you wanna be picked up?" Bruce questioned. Jason rubbed his eyes and nodded. Bruce scooped him up and rubbed his back. "I'm sorry that you got sick."

"I can clean it up... I was just-. I-. I got scared that I'd get lost," Jason stammered.

"You don't have to do that," Bruce whispered. Bruce imagined Jason's eyes were puffy because he probably fretted over the mess, crying out of fear of punishment. "Accidents happen, Jason... Okay?" Jason hid his face in Bruce's shoulder as they entered the room. Bruce turned the light on to assess the situation, and he nodded. Sure, enough, there was a little clear puddle in the center of the rug.

"I'm sorry," Jason whimpered. Bruce held the back of Jason's head in his palm and put some bounce in his step as he walked to the hall closet to grab the cleaning supplies.

"It's alright... It's nothing little baking soda and seltzer can't fix," Bruce whispered, "Jason, I've gotta put you down now-."

"Just a little bit longer... Please," Jason whispered. Bruce nodded and bounced from one side to the other. It was so hard to remember that Jason wasn't a baby. He was so small and easy to hold onto. Easy to hold onto. Jason hadn't been easy to hold onto in years. For years they'd been caught up in a violent struggle of push and pull. It felt good just this once to be needed. "Nobody picks me up anymore..."

"Well, I'll pick you up anytime you want," Bruce promised, "I don't care how big you get... I'll always try-." His voice broke. Bruce was bombarded with images from Jason's death. He took a steadying breath, and after a few moments, Jason pulled away.

"You can put me down if you want... I'm tired now," Jason whispered. Bruce nodded and tucked Jason into bed. Then, he tended to the mess on the rug. Jason lay on his side, staring at Bruce. "Mr. Wayne... I really am sorry," Jason apologized again.

"It's alright... Do you feel better?" Bruce questioned. Jason nodded. "That's all that matters..."

"Is Dick your son too?" Jason asked. Bruce nodded. "Why did he go away?"

"He had to go home... He doesn't live here anymore," Bruce explained. Jason blinked hard.

"You live all by yourself?" Jason questioned. Bruce nodded. "Aren't you lonely?"

"Sometimes," Bruce answered as he finished cleaning up. "I'll be right back." He put everything where it belonged and returned to Jason's room.

Jason waved at Bruce. "My dad told me a scary story the other night because he was mad at me... He said his dad told him the same story," Jason whispered.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Bruce questioned. Jason nodded.

"My mommy says if something's scary, sometimes you have to tell the story to someone else so that it won't worry me anymore," Jason explained.

"Alright," Bruce replied.

"Can you turn the light on first?" Jason asked. Bruce nodded and turned on the lamp with a remote. "If it's foggy, I'm not supposed to walk to school unless he's with me... But I went anyway because it was library day. So, when he got home from work, I wasn't there. He grabbed and shook me, and I wanted to cry, but I didn't." Bruce nodded.

"Did he take you to school?" Bruce asked. Jason shook his head.

"He told me kids shouldn't go out in the fog without their mommies and daddies because of the Borda. Do you know what that is?" Jason questioned. Bruce shook his head. "She's a scary witch with a blindfold that kills kids with ropes for going where they're not supposed to." Bruce nodded.

"Were you upset when he told you that?" Bruce questioned. Jason nodded.

"But he didn't stay mad... I told him I was sorry, and he took me home. We played the lock game, and he got his money back from our neighbor," Jason replied.

"What's the lock game?" Bruce asked.

"We played it in our building... Sometimes he'd forget things in people's apartments, so he showed me how to unlock doors with different stuff, so we don't have to bother anybody," Jason explained, "I can unlock a door in less than a minute."

It took everything in Bruce's power to hold a straight face. He was furious. How could Willis trick a child as sweet and innocent as that into breaking and entering into apartments? And Jason was none the wiser. "What's the matter?" Jason questioned. Bruce shook his head. He knew Jason had to learn to steal from someone, but he had no idea this was how it all started.

"Did you play any other games with Willis?" Bruce replied.

"Um... The police game. Mommy didn't like that one," Jason replied, "I had to sit in the car when he'd go shopping and honk the horn when I saw police. I have to smile and wave at the police, and if they stop and wave at me, I win."

Bruce swallowed hard. "You don't play checkers or anything like that with him?" Bruce questioned.

"Oh," Jason yawned, "Sometimes he'd play the drums on my stomach while dinner cooked... I like that one. It's my favorite."

Bruce made a soft noise as Jason closed his eyes. "Any other games?" Bruce asked.

"It wasn't a game, but when he reads-. When he used to read the paper, he would let me hold one side while he held the other... I liked it because he always gave me a kiss instead of telling me to turn the page," Jason replied. Bruce kissed Jason's forehead.

"Thank you for sharing your stories with me," Bruce whispered.

"Thank you for holding me," Jason mumbled. Bruce tried not to seem sad, but he couldn't help but feel pain in the pit of his stomach. Willis's love for Jason was there, but it was selfish. Jason accepted that as it was. Jason accepted scraps of love when he deserved much more. Jason deserved the world, and even Bruce failed to give that to him.

#fic #five little ducks fic #Jason Todd #Bruce Wayne #Dick Grayson #Stephanie Brown #Duke Thomas #Zatanna Zatara #De-Aged Jason Todd #Magic #Babysitting #Father-Son Relationship #Fluff and Angst #POV Third Person #Bruce Wayne is Not Okay #Bruce Wayne Tries #Jason Todd Has Issues #Childhood Trauma #dc comics #batfam #angst and fluff #angst with a happy ending

[queenscodex]

First long time apart

Characters: Leona, Azul, Idia

- Gender Neutral Reader

- Headcanons & Scenario

700 Follower Special - not taking anymore requests

Ok, this is my 3rd attempt at posting this, please appear on the tags 🙏

The other ask was deleted but I am combining two asks together! Again I apologize for the spam ^^

-

Leona Kingscholar

Oh, you're going to be away for a few days? Leona was a bit grumpy about it at first but later reacts to it with a shrug; he'll spend those days lounging around with the occasional begrudge to do some schoolwork.

The first day goes by fine. He sleeps in through the morning, enjoying the silence it brought and the distractions that ceased to pester him. If anything he would argue that he got more naps from this.

Though he very quickly shifts into a noticeable irritated attitude. Leona soon comes to learn that his pillow doesn't suffice; he has grown so used to having your lap as his pillow that the actual item felt weird and foreign. While he had the natural talent of falling asleep at his will, he found himself twisting and turning, trying to get as comfortable as possible with what he had. However, none stimulated the feeling of laying on your lap

So the next days came in torturous strides.

Sometimes it felt too quiet at times in the botanical garden, your familiar babbling voice vanished from the scene. There were also no fingers that carded through his hair even though he pushed away the affection. No person to tease at. It was just him.

At some point he was counting down the days until you returned.

Leona hated this.

It was only supposed to be a few days until you returned. That's what you said at least. When you first told him, Leona's only response was an 'okay' and so you went away on your little adventure.

The first day went by in a blur, most of the memories consisting of the lion sleeping in. He felt very content on his own, wondering if he could sleep the remainder of the days off until your return.

The first day was the only easy day.

Very quickly, Leona had realized that he was more smitten for you than he had thought. While the first day he was able to sleep away his troubles with ease, he was soon starting to have actual difficulties sleeping.

The pillow that cushioned his head was different and felt strange. Your lap was more familiar to him, all but abandoning the former option in favor of yours. But with your departure he was forced to seek the alternative if he wanted to receive rest. No matter how much he fluffed it out or switched material after material, he still found himself twisting around trying to find a comfortable position. But alas he grew exhausted and frustrated and resorted to lay there in hopes his secret talent kicked in.

The botanical gardens, which he loved for being secluded, became too quiet. Your babbles that scolded him for missing his classes didn't echo in the area anymore. The silence was even becoming deafening to his ears without your voice to pull him to reality once in a while. Your presence was simply gone.

Leona let out a sigh, his eyes taking a glance to the clock. Only a mere five minutes has passed since last he checked- yet it felt much longer in his mind. Another few days till you return and Leona was keeping track. His days had started to become stretched out, minutes turning into prolonged hours. And with minutes that passed he was becoming more irritated, longing to have you by his side again.

Whether he admits it or not, the lion has become undeniably smitten for you, addicted to your affection and physical touch.

And as much as he tries to push it away, he does not look forward to the next time you leave for a few days.

-

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul was a tad unease upon learning you'll be away for a while. He was a worry kind of lover and it's not uncommon for him to fuss over your safety

However, he is able to keep himself busy and distracted by the large amounts of work he has piling at his desk. That said, he does become affected by your absence rather quickly in a span of a few hours after your departure

Your voice is vacant from the room, and instead Azul hears the echoes of his scribbling whenever his pen meets the paper. He does play some music in hopes of tuning out the obnoxious sounds, and while it does prove helpful, it's nothing compared to the sound of your voice

He finds himself staring at the clock more often than not, keeping track of when you'll return and counts down the days.

Azul is a worry wart. He trusts in your ability to handle yourself, but his mind does wander off, plaguing him with worries. It does keep him up at night, unable to sleep without you beside him or knowing of your safety.

Instead he resorts to writing letters, though he contemplates whether he should send them or not. But for now he will write as a way to distract himself from your vacant affection

Tick tock tick tock

Those were the only sounds that greeted the ears of Octavinelles' dorm leader- whom was currently cooped up in his office with piles of papers resting at his desk, demanding his attention. His fingers worked swiftly with the pen, drawing dark lines against the paper creating forms of sentences.

Although Azuls gaze remained on the paperwork, his mind was elsewhere.

You were away for a few days, the first you would be away from him for a long period of time. He still recalls your wave of goodbye or the lingering kiss to his cheek before you ventured off. At the moment, Azul thought he would just busy himself during your absence, but very quickly he found himself distracted by thoughts of you.

You weren't there to greet him a good morning, or a good night. Nor were you through to distract him when his work became overwhelming.

The setting of his office didn't help either. Instead of your melodic voice, it was replaced by the ticking of an old clock that made a louder rung to indicate a new hour. It felt maddening to hear that clock instead of your voice, but he kept himself composed.

He was more plagued by worries above all else. Constant thoughts of your well-being would intrude his brain once in a while, causing the quilt in his fingers to falter as a scenario plays out in his mind. What if someone attacks you? What if something happens? What if what if what if

Azuls eyes flickered to the tea cup laying to the side of his desk, it was left untouched and still full of your favorite tea. It was meant for you. Azul brewed it by instinct, his mind slipping that you would away. Usually you would sit in that spot, conversing on whatever danced your mind. But instead the seat was left vacant, dull of your loving presence

With a sigh, Azul pushed aside the paperwork and brought out a new piece of parchment. He started to write his feelings on the paper, speaking the words he wished to express to you if you were here now.

And as he scribbled down his fumbled thoughts, he made silent prayer for your safe return.

-

Idia Shroud

Like Azul, Idia was a bit uneasy when you announced your going to be away for a few days. He is worried but also curious. He asks many questions such as 'how long?' 'Do you have everything packed?' Do you want one of his spare jackets if it happens to get cold during your travels? Can he come along?

Idia was affected by your absence immediately after you said your goodbyes. He was found standing there, contemplating what to do next but no matter what his mind trailed back to you

He attempted to occupy himself by playing matches of video games but soon found that something was lacking with each match he won. You weren't there to cheer him on, or say a 'congratulations.' Neither did he hear your sigh of defeat when you lost to him, fussing that you'll win next time. And sometimes his mind would slip up too, not realizing he picked the two player mode.

While Idia was an antisocial person, with the only people he felt comfortable talking with being you and his brother, he started to find that silence became wary.

Thankfully, he has the power of the internet. He would daily send you messages, a sigh of relief escaping him with the replies you send. And when the silence becomes too much to bear, he video calls you too.

'Winner' was plastered on the screen in bold letters, declaring Idia's victory in the last match. The so-called 'victory' was only enforced by the cheery tones echoing from his wireless headphones to his ears.

While many would give an outburst of joy after winning the match, Idia merely blinked before pressing the button to return to the home screen. The victory felt meaningless to him. At least without your voice being the one congratulating him. That was the thing he yearned for after each win.

But he wasn't met with it, you weren't even in the room. Instead you were miles away and you won't return for a week more.

Idia was worried at first, wanting to make sure you had everything prepared for whatever situation you found yourself in. But you had reassured him repeatedly and so he eagerly awaited your return. But as much as he kept replaying the matches and receiving first place every time, it continued to feel lacking.

While Idia wasn't one to recoil from isolation, he quite enjoyed being alone, but being voided of you. Your smile. Your laugh. Your voice. He was left yearning for it.

And the longer you were away the more he couldn't draw his mind from thoughts of you. But he tried to stay optimistic, knowing that with each passing day, it was another dozen hours closer to your return. And whilst he waited for that day to arrive he would send you texts which you in turn updated him on your well-being.

With a sigh, Idia clicked off the screen. The colors flashed for a brief second before becoming dark, all he saw was his reflection on the screen. You weren't beside him like normally.

Running a hand through his hair, an idea flickered in his head. His hand reached out to grab his tablet which rested on the table in front of him. Idia turned it on and quickly sorted through the panels before pressing on the chat app. Sweeping through his contacts(which weren't many), he came across yours.

He hesitated at first, his finger just ghosting over the video call button. He was nervous. Perhaps you were busy-

Though he shook that away, wanting nothing more to see your face even if it was in pixels. Just to hear your voice.

With a press of a button, the call started to go through, a few beats echoing out as he waited for you to answer.

Idia wasn't sure what he was going to say to you yet, all he knew was that he needed to see you again. Safe and sound.

And as the rings echoed out in his room, he could feel his heart beat against his chest.

-

#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland x reader #twst imagines #twst x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #idia shroud x reader #leona x reader #azul x reader #idia x reader #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland scenarios #twst headcanons #twst scenarios #twst x you #twisted wonderland #twst #queenscodex.events #firsts in a relationship-700 special

[whumpster-fire]

Leading Thieves Say Millennials and Zoomers "Ruining the Crime Industry"

A variety of criminals have spoken out over the past few weeks, saying that crime just doesn't pay like it used to because Millennials and Gen-Z-ers are so broke, they have nothing of value to steal.

Stephen "Fingers" Gilligan, Pickpocket: Pickpocketing has been on the decline in America for a while, but it's getting ridiculous now. Nobody carries cash anymore, and even cards aren't paying out. The other day I stole a wallet with five debit cards, and all but one of them declined. The last one had just enough to buy a Sierra Mist from a vending machine. That was my second best score all week. The best was a $40 Olive Garden gift card and a crumpled, discolored $5 bill that I had to use archeological techniques to retrieve without it disintegrating in my hand.

Burt Crustman, Mugger: Man, nobody walks through dark alleys at night since the pandemic hit, and when they do? Jackshit. The only valuable anyone under 40's got on them these days is their phone. Admittedly lotsa people have $3000 phones, but you know what the market for fencing iPhones is like? It's shit! Everybody's buying new phones because their phone's the only nice thing they can afford!

Monty Derailleur, Bike Thief: Well the bike theft business would be going good, if people ever used the bikes they bought. The sales are high, but the fact of the matter is, the bike lanes around here are shitty or nonexistent, there's no room to take them on the bus, and there's no bike racks so everybody knows it's gonna get stolen.

Jerry Rigby, Car Thief: I don't know what you're talking about, Grand Theft Auto is booming. There's $75,000 pickups, $60,000 SUVs, $100,000 Teslas, and most people can't even afford to buy a used car legally so fencing's never been easier. The reason it's hard for those of us in the business is twofold. First, too many people living out of their cars. Second, the competition. You see a nice car parked somewhere, you gotta be on it like that, or the fucking illegal towing rackets will beat you to it. It's nearly impossible to make a living as an independent car thief.

Dwayne Pipe, Burglar: The only reason to be breaking and entering in the post-Pandemic years if to use somebody's shower. I swear to god, half the time when I break into a place, the only furniture is a mattress on the floor and a mid-sized computer monitor as a TV, and those are only good for scrap because with planned obsolescence the way it is, they have a life expectancy of about 6 weeks after theft. To be honest with you, I'm running a loss on most jobs. The only reason I haven't gone straight is because all the legal jobs pay jackshit too. That, and I really like replacing people's family photos with pictures of Nicholas Cage.

Brittlyghn McKannyck, Shoplifter: Shoplifting these days is a hobby, not a career. Half the time the stores are too understaffed to even stock the shelves, and if they're not, everything's locked up. I had to get a guy to unlock a magnetic tag on a box of Crispix the other day. If I didn't live with my parents, there's absolutely no way shoplifting full time would be viable.

Norman Gore, Master Hacker and Identity Thief: Scamming people out of their financial info or cracking passwords has never been easier, but the scores just aren't worth it. I keep getting into bank accounts that pending overdraft fees. It's pathetic. I have to leave the lights off so my hacker den's only lit by the monitors, and type on three or four keyboards at once to hack enough people to make ends meet.

Jack Gazebo, Digital Pirate: Oh my fucking God, people, stop paying for streaming! Learn to torrent! I'm telling you, man, this generation just doesn't have the technological literacy to pirate media.

Captain Tom Stillcutt, Analog Pirate: Let me tell ye something, matey, it be a sad day for piracy. No more galleons laden low with gold doubloons, rum, and exotic spices, nay, it be all scurvy container ships full o' mass produced plastic now. Me last prize was a forty foot container loaded full of over a hundred thousand Funko Pops, en route from the East Indies. The worst part of it was as the cap'n I gets a double share o' the booty, whether I want it or not. I've been makin' one walk the plank every day, and my cabin's still full of the blasted things. Shiver my timbers, I hate these damned Zoomers! At least the ones in me crew are happy.

Geraldo Cardamom IV, Gentleman Thief: The economy's just horrible for heists these days. Art heists? Jewelry theft? All the rich idiots are blowing their money on crypto, NFTs, and custom furniture from hipster woodworking YouTubers. Nobody just has a gallery in their house with priceless antiques in glass cases below a conveniently placed skylight, or millions of dollars in cash and gold bullion in vaults behind secret doors with seven different elaborate locking mechanisms anymore. Nobody secures their valuables with networks of criss crossing laser motion sensors. The only guys with that kind of money are assholes like Jeff Bezos and Elon Musk, and they don't have the sense of style for that. They just hire a bunch of assholes with guns.

Carmen San Diego, Legend: You must be joking, right? The reason I retired is because the infrastructure in this country is so dilapidated it's impossible to move it without it disintegrating. My last heist was "stealing" the World's Largest Pothole in Lansing, Michigan. I lifted the entire six lane wide, fifteen foot deep pothole out of the ground, disassembled it, and shipped it across the country to a warehouse in Las Vegas, then filled in the hole with pristine asphalt so it looked like it was never there. Nobody investigated. Nobody came after me. The city threw a parade in my honor. It didn't even take a month before my record holding pothole was dethroned by one in Cleveland, leaving me with nothing but a bunch of dirt, crumbling asphalt, and broken dreams. That's when I realized it was time to call it quits. Well, maybe the Bass Pro Shops Pyramid, but it already looks stupid enough in the middle of Tennessee that the only way stealing it would be funny is if I put it in the original Memphis.

#shitpost #the wide world of crime

[midnightdevotion]

Party of Three

Request: Reader is maverick's sister and is dating iceman, finds out she's pregnant.

@sebastianstangirl01

Pairing: Iceman x Reader (afab)

Tag list is open!

Requests are open!

Warnings: Some angst, some fluff, one punch. ( i did not proof read, bc it's midnight )

a/n: In true gen-z fashion I cannot write a fic without the use of cell phones so, were going with it. Everything else is pretty cannon i think.

You've been feeling off for almost three weeks before you realize you haven't had your period for 2 months. Your heart hasn't stopped racing since you came the realization of what that probably means.

Rushing to the store at a prompt 8:46 this morning to get pregnancy tests. You haven't been able to work up the nerve to actually take said tests. Anxiously biting your lips, even though they are already tender and you taste the tang of blood.

Sighing you look at the clock, and seeing it is 4:00 and you've wasted the entire day looking at the damn tests on your coffee table you stand. Finally grabbing the box you march to the bathroom in what you hope is confidence but you know is really just fear and mental exhaustion.

You've spent all day running through every possible situation that could come from this. No matter what your older brother is going to be pissed. You groan as you think about what he's going to say to you. Not ready for the onslaught of being told you are irresponsible and how could you be so reckless.

Opening the boxes to gather the tests out you have shaky hands and almost drop the pregnancy tests. It takes another ten minutes to actually build up the courage to sit down to take the tests.

Within a minute you have three tests sitting on the counter. You turn on your phone timer to 5 minutes, and god you'd rather plank for five minutes straight than wait for this. You sit on the ground, back to the cabinets that are holding your entire future on top of it.

Your leg is shaking as you anxiously wait for the results. Glancing down at your phone every 3 seconds feeling like it's been 30. When the timer finally does go off, you've never stood up so fast. Legs feeling like jello, and your palms are sweaty.

Swallowing hard you pick up the first test. Looking down to see a plus sign your heart stops. Quickly glancing at the other two you see they are also plus signs.

You can't take it anymore and your nerves are shot. Rushing to the toilet you let out all the contents from the sandwich you forced yourself to eat earlier.

Hearing your phone buzz on the counter you stand, leaning against the counter as you read the message.

My love: Hey sweetheart, we're all gonna go to the bar tonight, want me to swing by and pick you up.

It takes you a solid two minutes to come up with a halfway decent reply, hoping it sounds like you in any way.

You: I'm actually not feeling too hot, just a headache so don't worry about me go have fun :)

It doesn't take him more than 10 seconds to call.

"Do you need anything?" He doesn't even bother with a hello when he hears you pick up the phone. You try to control the shaky in your voice when you answer.

"No-no that's okay, I'm just gonna take some tylenol and try and sleep." You can picture him furrowing his brow, because usually you love cuddles when you aren't feeling well and you never say no to take out and icecream when you have a headache either.

"Babe are you sure? I can go to your favorite Chinese food and grab some ben and jerry's?"

"yea I'm sure, I just really feel tired, So go enjoy your time with the boys" You feel so bad lying to him, knowing he's got that confused look in his eyes and he's probably running a hand through his blond hair. Almost like if he does it enough he will solve whatever problem is wracking his brain.

"alright... but you'll call if you need anything right?" You hate yourself for the sad tone to his voice.

"Of course babe" you cringe because you know this whole conversation is a train wreck attempt at acting normal. You quickly say your goodbyes and love you's before hanging up. You call the only other person you know you can trust with this.

"Mav... I need you"

And thank god for Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell, because he's outside of your place in less than 30 minutes. You do feel bad because he picks up your favorite Chinese food on his way over. An offer you just ignored from the man you swear is the love of your life.

"Oh mini Mitchell, what's got you all out of wack" is the first thing your brother says to you. The look on your face must say it all, because he is wrapping you in a hug without you even saying a word.

You called Mav for a reason, knowing he would give you the time you needed to get whatever is on your mind sorted before speaking. He's making idle chit chat about his day, knowing both of you aren't here to hear or talk about Mav and his dare devil ways. However, he does know that you aren't ready to tell him why you called him over so he's dishing out the food and distracting his sister the best way he knows how.

It takes two and a half hours before you blurt out your thoughts. Anxiety running rampant in your mind and seeping into your tone.

"Mav...I'm Pregnant" It can't be more than a whisper but you know he hears you because he freezes mid reach for popcorn. It feels like a lifetime could go by in the time you are waiting for maverick to reply. "mav... please say something" You're desperate, needing to know that maverick will support you in this.

"I don't know what to say" You can tell his answer is honest, and you can't really fault him for being shocked and stumped for words, because if you're being honest so are you.

"Please just be here for me...I can't do this on my own"

"you will never do anything alone" his blue eyes pierce into you as he says this, and you are so thankful to have a brother as loyal as maverick.

With the small weight of maverick knowing and knowing you won't be in this alone, no matter what Tom says, you feel like you can breathe slightly lighter now. Your brother is a man of few words in this moment though, and you let him, because you don't really have anything else to add either.

He reaches over and hugs you, and it's then you feel the exhaustion of such an emotionally grueling day hit you. You don't have it in you to stay up to face Tom when he gets home, knowing he prefers to sleep here instead of on base on weekends.

______

Maverick might not have said it to you, but boy oh boy was he pissed. First Kazansky had the nerve to date his little sister, now he's gotten you pregnant?!

After he made sure you had everything you needed and went to bed, he headed directly to the bar he was counting on Iceman being at. He keeps rehearing the phrase "I can't do this on my own" in your scared voice bounce around his head. Clenching his jaw, rage runs through him at the thought of Tom thinking he could just get you pregnant and leave you out to dry.

He whips his bike into a parking stall, seeing none other than Ice's car parked in the third stall over. He's seeing nothing but red as he makes his way into the crowded bar. Eyes searching for one person only.

Goose see's maverick walk in, brow furrowing as the brunette brushes right past him, anger radiating off of him in thick waves.

"KAZANSKY" is shouted as soon as Maverick lands eyes on him. It takes not two seconds for him to be within grasp and Maverick doesn't hesitate to send a brutal punch to the blond pilots eye.

"Maverick what the hell!" Tom reaches for his eye, confused as to why he's standing in searing pain when sure he and Mav have always had somewhat of a turbulent friendship but things had been sailing smoothly for a while now, since he started dating you.

"DON'T WHAT THE HELL ME, YOU THINK YOU CAN GET MY SISTER PREGNANT AND BAIL AND I WONT KICK YOUR ASS" and has never been more confused because... well what the fuck?

"Maverick what the fuck are you talking about?"

"Don't fucking play dumb with me!" and goose the level headed one-- an odd thing to say about the usual goofball, steps between the two.

"Mav... can you explain what's going on" and if it were anyone other than goose who was asking they probably would have been punched too.

"This fucking asshole got my little sister pregnant, now she's sitting at home terrified because he left her to do it alone!" and goose has to physically hold maverick to keep him for going in for another strike.

"She's pregnant?" and it's like a bucket of ice cold water gets dumped over the trio. Tom's head is spinning. Why didn't you tell him? He's gonna be a dad? Wait why did you think you were going to do it alone? Man his eye still hurts.

Maverick has immediate guilt wash over him, he didn't know you hadn't told tom yet, and maybe he shouldn't have punched the guy and caused and scene out in public before he knew the whole story. Maverick has always been an act first think later sort of person and usually it works out, but this time his gut is telling him he's not gonna be so lucky.

"You-you didn't know" and it's not a question, it's a statement. Iceman just shakes his head, shouldering his way out of the bar. Easy to ignore the throbbing of his eye when his heart feels like it might shatter.

_____

You wake up the next morning feeling slightly better about the situation than you did yesterday. Finding it weird when you don't see tom in bed next to you. Yawning you figure maybe he got too tipsy at the bar last night and had to get a ride with someone else, leading him to stay on base.

You slowly make your way into the living room, scanning the mess on the coffee table from your's and Mavericks movie escapades. Telling yourself you'll clean that up later you walk into the kitchen. Gasping at what you see, or rather who you see at the kitchen island.

"Honey what happened to your face!" you reach out to touch his cheek and feel a stinging in your chest when he moves away.

"Were you going to tell me" Your heart freezes at his words.

"t-tell you what" and you hate the stutter to your voice, feeling like you might explode from fear.

"You know what" is his cold reply.

"How did you find out" your voice is so quiet, and you can feel a tear leave the corner of your eye. He won't even look at you. This is exactly what you were afraid of, you two had never talked about kids, and god if he were anything like your brother then he didn't want them.

"Your brother told me, gave me this shiner too" and there's such a dead tone to his voice that it has you scared. He never sounds this monotone to you, so much like he just doesn't care.

"I-I...." and your voice catches on sobs in your throat.

"I'm sorry" it finally makes it's way out of your mouth, combined with an ugly sob. He finally looks up at you, and you see his swollen eye for all it's glory.

"For what exactly, sending your brother after me or--" and you cut him off.

"for getting pregnant... I know you don't want this, so it's okay if you go..." and you are whispering, any louder and you might break in half. You can't bear the thought of losing the one man you've ever really loved, but you don't want him to feel trapped to you and this baby.

You see his brow furrow, and you think here we go, he's trying to figure out how to tell you he doesn't want you or this baby, and to leave him alone.

"what makes you think I don't want this" You don't even have to think about your response.

"because you're a pilot, you don't want to be held back"

"I am not Maverick." You glance up at him, to see him now standing in front of you, just out of arms reach.

"Darling, all I've ever wanted was a future with you, and here you are carrying ours and thinking I don't want it?" Your breath hitches at his words, speechless as he moves closer, resting his hand on your non existent bump.

"I'm gonna be a dad" it's nothing but a whisper and maybe you aren't even supposed to hear it, but it makes you cry harder. All the anxiety of him not wanting this washes away in an instant.

He looks up, quickly bringing his hands to your face, wiping your tears off your face as best he can with how quick they are leaving your eyes. Softly he places his lips against yours, it's every bit reassuring as any words he's going to say to you.

"Sweetheart, I hate that you didn't trust me to come to me with this, but I'm not going anywhere, You are carrying our baby and you're my future wife. There's nothing that could keep me away from you" It sends fresh tears down your cheeks and you can't help but laugh.

"I'm so sorry I didn't tell you first, and I'm so sorry maverick gave you that awful black eye. I was just- I was so scared that you wouldn't want us." He glances down at your stomach, full smile on his face.

"I'd take a black eye for you any day love, just give me a chance next time please?"

_____

You two spend the next three hours discussing plans, calling a doctor and him pulling you out of your anxious thoughts of 'will I be a good mom?'

"This little bean is going to make us a party of three tom!" You have anxiety pouring out of you.

"Can't wait to make it a party of four" comes his suggestive reply and wink. You throw a pillow at him.

"Can't you let me deal with this pregnancy first" you grumble, a happy smile on your face.

"Only if you let me marry you" and when you turn back around you see tom kneeling, ring out.

"this isn't really how i planned on doing this, but you're carrying my baby and I just don't want to wait any longer to have my ring on your finger" He lets out a nervous laugh, as you tear up again. If any one asks you're going to say it's pregnancy hormones.

"Oh my god yes!!" you can't help but to tackle the gorgeous aviator to the ground in excitement.

"we're waiting till after the baby though, no way I'm walking down the aisle with a baby belly" You add as an afterthought. Unable to stop yourself from joining Tom's laughter at your comment.

"God I can't wait for your baby belly... but whatever you want for our wedding honey" you both can't help but grin at those words. Our wedding.

Yeah maybe you had nothing to worry about in the first place but you'd live through it ten times over if it meant marrying the love of your life and having his kids.

Taglist: @alanadetigy

#iceman x reader #top gun #top gun maverick #tom iceman kazansky #iceman #tom kazansky x reader #tom kazansky

[t1oui]

Nuna headcanons for one of my (very underrated) otps

Neville wearing Luna's spectrespecs when she doesn't want to/doesn't feel like it

Neville goes searching for creatures with her (and sometimes Xeno tags along too)

They love working in the greenhouse together

No matter if they sit at Gryffindor's or Ravenclaw's table, they always sit together for meals, especially breakfast as they're both up early

Neville always gives Luna his shoes when hers go missing and she loves it.

Luna being shorter than Neville leading to lots of little forehead/cheek/nose kisses

Them going to the Yule Ball together

(Neville asked her after the first time he gave her his shoes. He saw how excited she was and liked working with her when she asked him for his help in the greenhouse right after.)

Originally Harry was very defensive of his sister, but over time he saw that Neville cared about her just as much as he did

Late nights in the library or in the Gryffindor/Ravenclaw common rooms. Luna is reading the Quibbler and Nev is reading herbology books.

Luna complimenting Neville 24/7, telling him he's worth it

Lots of hand-holding. Lots of it.

Neville blushes really easily and Luna never even turns slightly pink.

Nev & Luna going on triple dates with Harry & Cedric and Ron & Hermione

Neither of them are straight, and they take pride in that

Luna being able to give Neville piggyback rides (and doing it)

(Neville was skeptical, but Harry was like no bro. Just trust her. She is much stronger than she looks lol.)

They have matching bracelets. They just do.

Furthermore, Luna makes Nev jewelry all the time. Sometimes it matches something she has, sometimes it doesn't. She makes bracelets, earrings, necklaces, etc. Neville wears them with pride and after the first three times he yelled at people about it, nobody makes fun of him for it anymore.

They paint their nails together

They have sleepovers with Cho and Padma in the Ravenclaw dormitory where they give each other makeovers.

Neville is secretly obsessed with glitter and Luna knows this.

Neville's favorite colors are the colors of the bi flag, specifically pink. So basically what I'm saying is half of the gifts he gets from Luna are sparkly and bi flag colors.

(He gets her stuff in pan & ace flag colors. They go ALL OUT for pride.)

They like making pastries together (Neville is hopeless at it, but he's trying)

They have muggle movie nights where they pick muggle movies (usually bad ones) and make popcorn and watch them. They stay up till like 2 am doing this every other Friday.

(It doesn't even slow Luna down, but Neville has to sleep for a good 14 hours to recover. She doesn't mind.)

Luna tells Nev about nargles and wrackspurts and Nev tells Luna all about his plants and they could listen to each other for hours.

Luna got Neville a regular 'ol cactus for his 16th birthday. He named it Chelsey. It's their daughter now.

Neville's a dreadful dancer. Luna pretends not to notice because she doesn't care; she's having fun anyway.

They love Christmas and they decorate together every year. Sometimes they help Professor Sprout decorate the Great Hall.

Neville will pick Luna up and twirl her around when he's exited, and Luna loves it.

When Luna introduced Nev to Barty and Evan they absolutely terrified him. They have come to like him and now they act confused whenever he seems on edge around them b/c they find it hilarious.

Luna hates sparkles, but she wears a sparkly pink dress to their wedding, and Neville wears the lime green suit she told him she loved one time when they were 16 and 17.

They like walking around Hogsmeade together. (The first time Harry saw them arm-in-arm Cedric and Hermione practically had to pull him off the ceiling of the Three Broomsticks.)

Neville tells Hermione, the mom of the group (the only person who is more of a mom than Neville, honestly), all about Luna. This includes when he liked her before the Ball.

Nev & Luna high-five regularly. Luna taught Neville what it was and he's a bit obsessed.

They love cats. When Luna introduced Neville to Regulus, he was in his animagus/cat form because she thought he would be less scary this way.

They go stargazing together. Reg, Sirius, & Luna's uncle Evan taught her all the stars. She teaches Neville - he doesn't tell her he's already memorized every one.

Whenever it snows, Nev goes out with Luna on his shoulders and she goes back and forth between trying to photograph snowflakes and trying to eat them.

When they first started dating, Harry was unsure, but now he and Neville are good again. He tells Neville about Luna's interests & gives him gift ideas.

Study dates between Neville & Luna and Harry & Ced. (Ron and Hermione are never told b/c they argue about the appropriate amount of times Ron can ask Hermione for help the. entire. time.)

Basically, I love these two. This post is very long but I'm already brainstorming ideas for a part 2.

#nuna #luna x neville #luna and neville #neville x luna #harry potter #hp #hp fandom #neville longbottom #luna lovegood #golden trio era #mentioned: #regulus black #evan rosier #barty crouch jr #harry james potter #cedric diggory #ron weasley #hermione granger #cho chang #padma patil #i think that's it lol. enjoy. #tas rambles

[thebisexualdogdad]

hi! love your writting, super glad you're keeping the male reader tag alive- there's so few of those out here.

prompts:

39. tell me something i dont know about you

+ "when im with you i feel like myself. i feel like every side of me is present and accepted. and i feel good about it- i feel good about who i am when im with you"

with Stiles x ftm reader?

fluffy & a little hurt comfort-y, with Stiles letting the reader know that despite dysphoria, he sees him exactly the way he wants to be seen.

thanks!

Stiles Stilinski x FTM!reader

You and Stiles had been friends since you were in diapers, your dads worked together so when they found out they were both expecting kids around the same time it was basically fate that brought you two together.

You finally started dating your freshman year of high school, Stiles had been crushing on you since kindergarten after all and Scott was the one who talked him into actually telling you how he felt but two years later when you were ready to come out as trans he was who you were most terrified of telling.

You're laying in his bed, just cuddling and listening to music, weeks have gone by and you still haven't found the right words to tell him the truth.

"Have you ever thought about how crazy it is that we've literally known each other our entire lives?" Stiles states.

"No one knows me better than you do," you reply despite knowing you have a huge secret you're keeping from him.

"There has to be something left to learn still, come on Y/N tell me something I don't know about you," he chuckles.

You're silent for a moment, Stiles believing you're just thinking really hard to find some weird obscure fact about yourself but finally you reply with, "when I'm with you I feel like myself. I feel like every side of me is present and accepted and I feel good about it- I feel good about who I am when I'm with you."

"Woah that was unexpectedly deep, where did that come from?" Stiles laughs.

You sit up, Stiles suddenly getting concerned at the change of energy in the room.

"There's something I've been trying to tell you for a while now and I don't know how you're gonna take it," you say nervously.

"Hey, you know you can tell me anything," he says rubbing your arm to try to comfort you.

"Stiles… I'm trans," you blurt out.

Stiles looks at you for a moment trying to process what you said, "okay… can you tell me what that means exactly for you?"

"I uh… never really felt like a girl you know even as a kid but it wasn't until about a year ago when I realized that what I was feeling was gender dysphoria."

"So you're a guy?" He asks.

"Yeah I am," you say looking away from him assuming he wouldn't want to be with you anymore.

Stiles puts his hands on your cheek and gently tilts your face to look at him again, softly kissing you.

"You aren't mad at me?" You question.

"Of course not," he assures you, "I love you, I have since we were five years old and nothing will ever change that. I see you for exactly who you are and if you say you're a guy then that's awesome, no matter what I will always love you."

You just smile and kiss him again, feeling the love radiating off of him.

"Have you told anyone else?" He asks.

"No you're the first person I wanted to tell."

"Do you want me to be there when you tell people cause I will fight anyone who doesn't support my boyfriend," he says.

"I like when you call me that," you chuckle.

"You mean my boyfriend? Better get to used it cause I'm going to be telling everyone that I have the coolest boyfriend in the world," he smiles, pulling you in close and laying you guys back in the bed to cuddle again.

Of course it took him some time to adjust but he really was the rock in your support system and even spent an entire week pulling all nighters researching how to be the best ally and partner to you.

He was there for you when you told your parents and your friends, he helped you picked out a new name and was always the first to correct anyone who used your dead name or the wrong pronouns.

You couldn't have asked for a better boyfriend.

#teen wolf imagine #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi x reader #x ftm reader #x male reader #x trans reader #fic

[vilsoo]

prize counter girl ☆ four

➥ michael afton x camgirl!reader

you've been a camgirl for only a few months and everyone loves the content you post. when michael afton porn surfs to relieve his stress, he comes across your videos. the more he jerks off to your content, the more he's addicted. but it wasn't until, a few months later, he sees your familiar face as the new employee working at the prize counter.

genre. NSFW, 18+, modern au.

chapter warnings. video call sex, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, dom!michael

pcg materlist • previous • chapter five

tags. @jaeeeeeeyito @xuilyie @michael_aftonslut @matchafroggy @soft-spirit-ren @inesalexandra1995 @mmkqyde @lenishotandcute @corrazon @ghostisinvis @milk-bub @yukkomi @michaelaftonhusband @mikeesz @queen-simp @m00n-drifter @akazxii @setethstuff @roody-y-a @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @halparkebitch @erensslut @aftonpartner @artichoke-me-please @icekreamcakeee @astrobunny @woahhajime

No, Michael.

Don't fucking do it.

But it was already too late. As much as the guilt had already emptied his throat, Michael's urge to respond gripped his stomach like hunger for the unattainable. Warning himself to step away from this was fairly useless. He'll forever get swept under your tide that he allows himself to chase to, even if he's acutely aware of losing control.

Hell, if temptation were a person it would be you.

Michael contemplated. If you had been catering to other perverted customers over the phone, how the hell was Mike Shmidt the go-to choice? It may have felt nerve-wrecking at first, rereading that sudden text an infinite amount of times. But it also felt very vaunting to know that he was the only man lingering in the back of your mind during the training session, impatient to get off with him on a steamy video call for the first time.

But not me, though. She likes Mike Shmidt, not me...

As Michael drove home that night, he fell in distraught again. He wanted to continue supporting you with as much money for being a camgirl, he really did— regardless of befriending you at work like he's entirely oblivious of your dirty little secret. But that distraught resurges when he continues to downplay it, resulting in awkwardness around you when really he can't attain the inflamed effect you have on him.

He wanted you. Badly. You were his source of stress relief for months during his frightening nightguard shift. Aside paying you hundreds, he wanted to express his gratitude by making you feel good. You deserved it.

But he can only do that as Mike fucking Shmidt.

"Fuck," Michael cursed under his breath, his palm slamming the steering wheel. "Why did she have to work here. Why did she have to do this to me. Who is she and why does she take pleasure in ruining me?"

It was already 12 AM. Michael arrived home at 10 PM. He sunk in his bed as the nightly ambience of passing cars and crickets from his open window fill his ears. His laptop was beside him, the bright rays of his screen hitting his face. Before today, 11 PM was the only acceptable time for him to drift asleep for work. But that wouldn't be the case anymore. Oh, definitely not anymore for sure.

Michael absentmindedly lingered on his phone after he finally replied back an hour ago. As long as he doesn't have to show his face on camera, he obliged.

What will it be? Mutual masturbation then go to work the next day like nothing happened?

Isn't that what everyone does, though? Go on with their day or night after masturbating?

You sound so fucking dumb sometimes, bro. It shouldn't be that big of a deal.

The stress was building up again, haunting him with lust endowed in his restless mind. Would his first video call with you alleviate his stress? Or would it deteriorate him more? No matter what, Michael couldn't shake off that restless craving— a forbidden addiction to you, ensnaring him to seek for taunting pleasure from you but torments him.

Suddenly your video call request popped up on the screen. Startled from the spur of the moment, he sits up straight and sets the laptop on his thighs and adjusts the screen to crop his face off the camera.

Lighting's pretty decent. Being shirtless is sexier, too. Speak with a deep voice like you're kinda sleepy. Maybe she'll like that.

Michael clicks on the green button, his heart beating erratically in his chest. When the call went through and your alluring face took over his screen, his limbs froze for a moment. The twist in his stomach, the ecstasy blossoming in his brain; an inexplicable feeling of being raptured by your unfair, merciless, effortless seduction. Intimidated, yet aroused. Bashful, yet provoked. Enraged, yet passionate.

"Hi Mike. Been thinking about you after our call earlier," you muttered sweetly, the honey in your voice writhing him.

Michael's heart couldn't stop leaping. After mentally preparing some starter conversations earlier it was deemed useless. "Oh, really? What made you wanna come back to me?" he mused, trying his best to alter his tone as more flirtatious.

The camera was angled to only your body and part of your face, taking in the mesmerizing outline of your plump lips; the same, stunning angle as your videos. Your skin was glimmering with the incandescent pink neon lighting of your room, the glowing, rich atmosphere enveloping him. You were already shirtless with just your panties on. Michael can feel himself starting to grow harder, lightly grazing his bulge.

"The things you said," you continued, "I couldn't stop thinking about it the whole day I got really horny. I just had to text you tonight."

As much as he wanted to admit he felt the same way, he remembered how wary he was of your sly tantalization from today. Everything about your presence made him surrender to you; powerless against the effect you have on him it felt rather unfair. How tormenting it was of you to distract him while working. How tormenting it was for him to seize up whenever you're around, igniting his agiation like an undying fire. How tormenting it was that he had to endure his ravenous urges until you showed up in his life, pulverizing him entirely.

"I'll let you do anything you want me to do. Just tell me. As long as I get to hear it from you only," you spoke fondly.

"I'll let you do anything you want me to do."

Michael was already sent into a frenzy by your pleads. His breathing grew heavier from the rapacity, provoked from the way you're asking for it. Finally unmasking his dominant side right before you; the leading cause of his stress. But how unfortunate he could do this through a damn video call, and not where he really wanted you to be.

You show up in my life, make me feel this way, and then get away with it just like that? Oh, I don't think so.

The brunette man smirked. "Is that what you really want? Let me have my own way with you? Because I think I've earned that."

"Oh? You weren't this bold when we called for the first time earlier," you say. Michael assumed that you thought he was bluffing hence the playful chuckle you gave after; but little did you know...

"Hm. Well, I got distracted at work because of you. And now you're letting me get to decide what I want you to do. I would say be careful what you wish for, darling, but I don't want to ruin the fun. My money is going to you, after all..."

You watch in silent astonishment while Michael pulls his cock out of his sweats, already throbbing at your reaction on the call when you see it for the first time. He was already unhinged; no sign of reluctance, hesitancy, or impotence from what he's about to do with you. If only he could do this to you in person, if only.

"Do you see this cock? Right in your face. You see that precum, right? Do you see how it's dripping already?" Michael spoke softly like he was cooing you the way you coo your viewers, but the tone in his voice more ominous and minacious.

The angle he's seeing just couldn't get any better. His cock right in front of the enlarged screen, where your parted lips meets right at his tip. Michael can tell you were heavily titillated by this, hearing you sigh so faintly and unable to utter a single word.

"Take your panties off and turn around for me. On your knees, face down. Play with yourself. I wanna watch."

You obeyed and it was just precious to Michael. He began to slowly stroke himself, sighing deeply at how fucking hot the view is from what he's seeing. Your ass taking over the screen, your dominant hand reaching down to toy with your pussy. His cock stirred in his grip the more he observed. He was too aroused by this, just like you.

"Such a pretty fucking pussy. You like being a good girl for your customers, don't you?" teased Michael.

"Yes, baby," you demurred on the call, moaning slightly when you slipped your fingers in and thrusted slowly. "For you— yes."

For me?

"I can already see how wet you are. You like when I jack off to you fingering yourself?"

"Mhm... Tell me how I can make you feel good tonight."

Your gaze was fixated on Michael's dick for awhile, deep down dazed from how lengthy he was. Approximately 6 and a half inches with a slight curve, an average girth, and protruding veins. You imagined what his cock would feel like inside you, curling your fingers and thrusting faster as you were lost in your own pleasure.

"Go faster," he commanded. "I wanna see every drop of that pussy juice all over you and your fingers."

Michael's voice sent you in a bliss and he quickly caught onto that. That satisfied grin slowly stretching across your face, eyes shut in ecstasy, and the slight high-pitched whimpers and moans emitting from you as you were getting off to his moans as well. Everything about this was so lewd, so filthy and you both enjoyed it.

"Ah, fuck. If only you could see what I see. Goddamn," Michael grunted as he fisted his tip faster.

You were already gushing around your fingers as you kept hitting your g-spot. It came to his mind that it was his words; his dirty talk that writhes you closer to an orgasm, pulsing around your fingers. You were so close to losing yourself and so was he; it's bewildering to him you both cum quickly at the same time.

"Oh, baby. Fuck— it's so good," you say breathlessly. "Tell me about your dirty fantasies of me from work. You imagine me distracting you to the point you take it all out on me?"

"Fuck yes," Michael growled deeply, fisting harder that his breathing kept hitching.

"You imagine me— oh, fuck— You imagine having quickies with me at your workplace? Bending me over just to fuck me hard?"

"Shit— yes, yes, yes," he breathed out, throwing his head back and shutting his eyes as he delved into the forbidden fantasy of fucking you right at the prize counter. Imagining his taut grip on his cock as your walls, imagining his strokes as ruthlessly pounding into your pussy. He thrusted his hips into his fist as he was nearing to another orgasm— unbelievably the second one for today.

Fuck you for making me feel this way.

Fuck you for making me act like an animal.

Fuck you. . . I literally wanna fucking fuck you right now.

To his surprise, you came first before he did. Michael watched your thighs shudder for a bit, your other hand tightly gripping your bedsheet, and your back arch further. Your moans were so raw, so beautiful to hear just as always. When your fingers slide out your cunt, he could make out the thin lines of your arousal stretching out. Seeing your fluids dripping onto your thighs and sheets, your cunt pulsing over nothing, and your elated expression sent the whipped man ablaze. He then realized he made a mess of himself, too.

Michael sighs deeply. "You know how submissive I can be for you, darling. But I'd be careful next time when you tell me to take you how I want to take you," he muttered as his high from the orgasm climbed down.

You gave a smirk at him; a playful expression on your face that he read as, Oh? Should I provoke you some more, then? but then brushed it off. As badly as Michael wanted you to linger with him with a million unsaid thoughts, you had to end the call. The obvious reason you left was to get enough sleep for the first day tomorrow. He even prioritized that for you during training so you wouldn't end up sleepless like him.

Aside that— no matter how many times he'll jerk off to you while pretending to act oblivious at work, the temporary satisfaction from this would still not fulfill him as it used to be.

The only way to fill his void for now is to be closer with you.

ALL WORKS BELONG TO VILSOO © . do not steal, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works outside tumblr.

#( ♥︎ ) — prize counter girl. #michael afton smut #michael afton x you #fnaf smut #michael afton x reader #fnaf x reader