#How to Buy Bing Ads

[gf2bellamy]

Hi,

I came across your account not to long ago and I've been binge reading almost all of your fics, (specifically the spencer reid ones). I've giggled and kicked my feet with the biggest smile to so many of them, they're amazing.

I had an idea of someone on the team getting reader a gift either as like a congratulations or a birthday present. Doesn't really matter. Then spencer sees and is like you should have gotten her *what you decide* instead, she loves it. Then proceeds to talk about a date they went on were she was talking his head off about it. Expect the team doesn't know they are dating and he's just outing them in front of everyone without even realizing it. Then reader walks in and greets everyone and they all just stare, then proceeds to ask questions and tease.

Again love your fics, they make my day. If you do this thank you! :)))))

bracelet — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: secret relationship a/n: hiii !! thank you so so much <3 i'm so so glad you like them <3 also i love your idea and i hope you like it :)

“What is that?” Garcia’s eyes zeroed in on the expensive-looking bag in Rossi’s hand as he walked in. The bag had a logo that screamed luxury, and Garcia was already halfway out of her chair to inspect it.

Rossi held the bag up with a proud smile playing on his lips. “Late birthday gift,” he explained, setting it down on his desk . “I couldn’t make it to the dinner over the weekend, so I thought I’d make it up to her.” 

Derek raised an eyebrow as he sipped from his coffee mug, leaning casually against his desk. “Looks expensive,” he remarked. “What’d you get her? A diamond-encrusted tiara?” 

“It’s probably worth more than my entire apartment,” Emily muttered under her breath, glancing up from her paperwork.  

Rossi ignored the jabs, his pride in the gift undiminished. “It’s a bracelet,” he said, opening the bag and carefully pulling out a velvet box.

He flipped it open to reveal a delicate silver bracelet adorned with white charms. “Silver, with these beautiful charms. Elegant, timeless, and perfect.” 

Spencer, who had been quietly writing away at his desk, glanced up at the mention of the bracelet.

His brow furrowed slightly as he listened to Rossi describe the gift, his pen pausing over the report. He tilted his head, as if considering something, and before he could stop himself, the words tumbled out. 

 “She actually prefers the pink one,” Spencer said, as though he were stating a well-known fact.

“The one with the flower charms. Last week, when we were on our date, she wouldn’t stop talking about this little boutique we passed. They had this pink bracelet in the window, and she went on and on about how much she loved it. She even made me go inside with her to look at it.” 

The room fell silent.

Garcia’s eyes widened, her mouth dropping open in shock. Derek choked on his coffee, coughing loudly as he tried to recover. Emily froze, her smirk fading into a look of pure disbelief. Even Rossi blinked at Spencer, momentarily speechless. 

Spencer, oblivious to the reaction he’d just caused, continued writing, his focus seemingly back on his report.

“It’s not that the silver one isn’t nice,” he added, almost as an afterthought. “But the pink one would’ve made her happier. She’s really into those kinds of details.” 

Spencer wanted to buy it for you. Not even a day later, he had gone back to the boutique, determined to surprise you with the pink bracelet you’d admired so much. But when he arrived, the store clerk had given him an apologetic smile and told him it was already sold out.

Garcia was the first to break the silence. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait,” she said, holding up a hand as if to physically stop the conversation. “Did you just say date? As in, you and her? On a date?” 

That’s when Spencer realized his mistake. His pen halted in his hand, mid-sentence, and he froze. His brain suddenly went completely blank.

His cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, and he stammered, “No, I meant—uhm—I—” 

But it was too late. The damage was done. The entire team was staring at him now, their expressions ranging from shocked to downright gleeful.

Garcia’s eyes were practically sparkling with excitement, Derek was grinning like he’d just won the lottery, and even Rossi looked amused, his arms crossed as he leaned back in his chair. 

Emily raised an eyebrow, her smirk returning full force. “Oh, this is rich,” she said, clearly enjoying Spencer’s discomfort. “Reid, are you telling us you’ve been dating this whole time and didn’t think to mention it?” 

Spencer opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. His mind was racing, trying to come up with a plausible explanation.

 “I—uh—it’s not—” Spencer stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. He adjusted his tie nervously, his fingers fumbling with the knot. “I didn’t mean to—” 

“Oh, you so meant to,” Derek interrupted, his grin widening. “Come on, pretty boy, spill. How long has this been going on? And why are you keeping it a secret? You know we’re all about love here.” 

 Garcia clapped her hands together, practically bouncing in her seat. “This is the best thing that’s happened all week! Spencer Reid, secretly dating our girl? I need details! How did it happen? ” 

Before Spencer could respond, the elevator dinged, and you walked into the bullpen, holding a coffee cup and looking completely unaware of the chaos that had just unfolded.

“Morning, everyone!” you called out, your cheerful tone cutting through the tension in the room. 

The team turned to you in unison.

You paused, glancing around at their faces. “Uh… what’s going on?” you asked, your smile faltering slightly. 

Garcia was the first to pounce. “Oh, nothing,” she said, her tone dripping with faux innocence. “Just that Spencer here was very casually telling us about your date last week. You know, the one where you talked his ear off about a pink bracelet?” 

Your eyes widened, and you shot a panicked look at Spencer, who was still sitting at his desk, looking like he wanted to disappear. “You told them?” you asked, your voice rising in disbelief. 

Spencer blinked up at you, his face still flushed. “I didn’t mean to,” he said weakly. “It just… slipped out.” 

You stared at him for a moment, your lips twitching as you tried to suppress a smile. Of all the ways for your relationship to come to light, this was definitely not what you’d expected.

“Of course it did,” you said, your tone fond rather than annoyed. You weren’t mad—how could you be?

Spencer’s accidental confession was just so him, and honestly, you’d been wondering how long the two of you could keep your relationship under wraps anyway.

The team was bound to find out eventually.

Rossi, who had been quietly observing the chaos , decided it was time to intervene. He picked up the fancy bag from his desk and walked over to you, holding it out with a flourish.

“Here,” he said. “This is for you. A late birthday gift. I was going for subtle elegance, but apparently, I should’ve gone for pink and floral.” 

 You took the bag, grinning at him. “Thank you, Rossi. You really didn’t have to,” you said, genuinely touched by the gesture. 

 Rossi shrugged, his smirk widening as he glanced over at Spencer, who was still looking like he wanted to melt into the floor. “Well, I figured it was the least I could do after missing your birthday dinner. But clearly, I’ve been outdone by Dr. Reid here. Who knew he had such a knack for romance?” 

Spencer sighed. “I didn’t mean to ruin your gift,” he muttered under his breath.

 “Oh, you didn’t ruin it,” Rossi said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “You just completely stole the spotlight. No big deal.” 

The team burst into laughter again, and even you couldn’t suppress a grin. “Don’t worry, Rossi,” you said, opening the bag and pulling out the velvet box. “I love it. Really. It’s beautiful.” 

Rossi gave you a satisfied nod, clearly pleased with your reaction. “Good. At least someone appreciates my taste.” 

Garcia, who had been practically vibrating with excitement, couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Okay, but can we please get back to the important part here?” she said, clapping her hands together. “You two are dating! Why were you keeping it a secret? ” 

As the team continued to tease and prod, you couldn’t help but smile. Sure, your secret was out, but in a way, it was a relief.

And as you glanced at Spencer, who was finally starting to relax, you realized that maybe this wasn’t such a bad thing after all. 

[gotaksboyfie]

Hi I!! I just wanted to say how much I absolutely adore your writing— I may or may not have binged all your stories in one night because I got completely lost in your writing hehe. If it’s not too much trouble, I’d love to make a little request! ❤️

could you please do a sieun x reader where we the reader leaves cute little notes in his textbooks after studying together? :3 I feel like it’d be cute, maybe something like little words of encouragement or small explanations to make some difficult concepts easier !! 🫶🫶

study buddy

gif creds: @seolinguk

pairing yeon sieun x gender neutral reader

summary you and sieun study together, and have a silent way of communicating with each other

word count ~600

warnings/tags fluff

being rank 2 in the school wasn't all that hard, not with a study partner like yeon sieun.

sieun didn't talk much, was emotionless most of the time, and literally only ate and drank when absolutely necessary. he was a living studying machine.

his methods were more to make studying more efficent—sieun's words, not yours—but you think he's just burning himself into the ground. it can't be healthy, min-maxxing studying like this.. he's already naturally smart, so what the hell is he doing all this for?

he’s focused. intense, even. he rarely speaks unless it’s to ask a question (extreme rare) or point something out. but you can feel his eyes drifting over sometimes, watching the way you take notes with colorful pens, how you underline things with little stars and write silly ramblings in the margins.

still, it was nice to study with him. his neat notes organized everything into sections that made it easier to grasp concepts. not to mention he would never let you slack off—always pushing you to stay on top of it with no break.

you stared blankly at your calculus homework while sieun was already working on his chemistry II work. differential equations made no sense, how did sieun already finish the homework?

"sieun-ah, can i see the homework? and the notes for differential equations?" you sighed, putting your pencil down. the numbers weren't adding up, so might as well refresh on the concept.

you flip through his notebook, and even his handwriting is completely straight. it's looks like he printed it out, but small ink smudges prove otherwise.

tearing off a small pink sticky note, you decide to leave him some encouragement. hopefully he'd enjoy it, and not just toss it out the next day.

fighting!ヽ(>∀<☆)ノ you got this sieunnie ☆

he doesn’t mention it the next day. doesn’t spare a second glance at you. but the note is still there, standing out against the monochrome background.

so you keep going. it turns into a small habit. you start leaving similar messages of encouragement, explanations, and even dumb jokes.

he doesn't react or say anything, but you swear you can see the smallest quirk of his lips as he reads over your latest one.

what's a math's teachers favorite dessert? π (￢‿￢ )

one day, you ask for his notes again to double check something. as you open it, you see all your notes neatly taped side by side on one page.

remember.. even geniuses have to take breaks sometimes! ╮(︶︿︶)╭ go drink some water!

you forgot to plug this rule in, you doofus :P

yeon sieun you want to buy me tteokbokki sooo bad right now ꩜꩜

[bad sketch of him studying] <3

(・_・)! i did not know you could solve it like that..

you laugh to yourself. it was silly, just a few lines scribbled in messy ink and hidden between practice problems. but he saved them. all of them. and maybe he didn’t know how to say things aloud, but the way he kept your words close made your heart flutter.

sieun's ears were dusted pink as you handed it back to him, and his face looked slightly embarrassed.

you opened your own notebook to see a ripped piece of paper with writing on it. there's no way, right?

Thank you.

you glance up and his head ducks down quicky, eyes fixed on anything but you. (so much for being subtle sieun..)

you read over the note again. it was just two words, but they felt like thousands—especially since they were coming from sieun.

maybe studying wasn't so bad with him around.

fin

a/n so short im sorry😭

[alternate-real-ities]

Hey, about that virus going around… my best bro and roommate said he came into contact with it, but since he’s “already Asian” apparently he thinks it makes him immune. How true is that? Cause ever since he brought it up things aren’t exactly adding up. He doesn’t seem sick, but he doesn’t seem normal either. Should I be worried? Hell, should I be worried about myself? I’ve stayed away from his room, so I should be fine, right?

Thank you for contacting our help line. We understand your concerns regarding the recent outbreaks of the flu. Please be assured that we are doing everything possible to contain the situation.

We recommend that you avoid contact with your roommate until we can confirm he is not infected. Please keep us informed of any changes in his or your condition. If you develop any symptoms, please contact us immediately.

Early symptoms may include fever, cough, body aches, heightened sensitivity in the pectoral region, and excessive sweating. Please note that we cannot predict how long the incubation period may last. We strongly advise remaining in your room and avoiding others until we can confirm you are not infected.

[BEEP]

You hear that ominous final tone, heart pounding in your ears. The help line's words echo in your mind - "Avoid contact with your roommate…" But how? You live in such a small flat. Keeping your distance feels impossible… yet the alternative is too terrifying to contemplate.

With shaking hands, you barricade your door using a chair wedged under the handle and a towering pile of laundry. It won't stop him if he truly tries to enter, but it might buy you crucial seconds to react. You tell yourself those seconds could make all the difference.

The days drag by at an agonising pace, each one blurring into the next as you remain sequestrated in your room like a prisoner awaiting judgement. You only emerge when absolutely necessary - dashing to the bathroom under cover of darkness or grabbing meagre rations from the kitchen when you're certain that your roommate, Jake, is out. Each time, your heart races and palms sweat, half-expecting to collide with him around every corner.

To keep yourself from going crazy, you throw yourself into mindless distractions like binge-watching television shows until your eyes get too tired, or playing video games. But no matter how hard you try to distract yourself, the anxiety always creeps back in, gnawing at the edges of your sanity.

You can't stop thinking about what's happening to Jake… and what might happen to you if you're already infected. The thought of losing yourself, of being consumed by this virus until nothing remains but an empty shell - it makes you physically ill. You can't allow that to happen. You WON'T let it happen.

So you cling to the barricade like a lifeline, praying it will be sufficient to keep the monster at bay… even as a small, treacherous part of you wonders what it would feel like to give in, to embrace the change and see where it takes you. You shudder at the thought and clench your fists, forcing yourself to focus on the present. You can't let your mind wander down that path. Not now. Not ever.

On the third night though, you wake up drenched in sweat, shivering uncontrollably. Your head throbs like a drum. You stumble to your desk lamp with trembling hands and flick it on. The light seems too bright, hurting your eyes. You touch your forehead - it's burning hot. Panic rises in your throat as the horrible realisation hits: you're ill. You try to stand but your legs give out. Collapsing back onto your bed, you curl up into a ball, shaking and miserable. A wracking cough tears through your chest. This is only the beginning, you know. The fever is just the first symptom. More will follow, and then…

No. You can't think like that. You have to stay strong, stay hopeful. Surely someone will arrive soon. They have to. Until then, all you can do is ride out this fever in isolation, praying it doesn't get worse.

The next morning, you wake up feeling slightly better. The fever has broken, but your body feels heavy. You sit up and look around your room, but something feels off. It's like your room had shrunk overnight. You shake your head, trying to clear the fog. Maybe you just need to eat something. You try to sneak out to get some food, but your legs feel like jelly. With some effort, you make it to the kitchen and grab a few snacks. Back in your room, you sit on the edge of your bed and munch on some crisps. You feel a little better, but still not quite right. You can't ignore how hungry you feel, like you haven't eaten in days.

You check if your roommate Jake is around, but the apartment feels eerily empty. You can't quite remember when you last had a proper meal - the days seem to blur together lately. On impulse, you pull out your phone and place an order for a juicy burger and crispy fries, already savouring the taste in your mind. As you wait for the delivery, you glance at your bed and freeze. The sheets are soaked with sweat, the damp patch sprawling obscenely across the mattress. You stare at it in disbelief, then look down at yourself. Your shirt clings to your skin, drenched in perspiration. "It's just the heat", you mutter, trying to convince yourself. "Nothing to worry about."

You strip off your clothes and step into the shower, hoping the water will wash away the unsettling feeling. As the steam envelops you, you can't help but notice how your muscles ripple beneath your skin, more pronounced than before. You shake your head vigorously, splashing water everywhere. You step out and towel off, but a glance in the mirror makes you pause. Your skin has an almost unnatural sheen to it, glistening under the harsh bathroom lights.

You throw on fresh clothes and try to ignore how they feel tighter than usual. The doorbell rings - your food has arrived. You rush to answer it, eager for something normal to focus on. As you take the bag from the delivery person, you can't shake the feeling that their eyes linger on your body a moment too long before they leave.

Back in your room, you tear into the burger ravenously, barely tasting it as you devour every last bite. But as you finish and lick the grease from your fingers, a wave of dizziness hits you. You grab onto the desk for support, breathing heavily.

Now would be a good time to call that help line again.

You pick up your phone and start dialing, but as you do, a huge headache hits you. You drop the phone and clutch your head, groaning in pain. What's going on? You feel like you're losing your mind. You try to focus, but the pain is too much. You stumble back to your bed and collapse onto it, clutching your head. You can't think straight. As you close your eyes, your conciousness fades away, and you drift into a restless sleep…

You slowly blink open heavy eyelids, squinting against the harsh sunlight streaming through gaps in your blinds. Your skin feels hot and tingly, almost feverishly so. You groan as you try to sit up, muscles protesting from days of disuse, but there's a new tautness to them that catches you off guard.

Glancing down, you notice beads of sweat rolling down your bare chest, which seems… different somehow. More defined, more muscular than you remember. Your shirt clings to your skin, damp with perspiration. You peel it off with a grimace, the fabric sticking to your body.

Jake's concerned face swims into view as he leans over you. "Dude, wake up," he says, his voice sounding distant through the ringing in your ears. He looks different too - more chiselled, bigger pecs than usual. "You've been out of it for like, three days straight."

Three days? The thought sends a flicker of panic through you, but it's quickly drowned out by the strange sensations coursing through your body. You lick your dry, cracked lips and try to speak, but your voice comes out as a raspy croak.

"Water…" you manage to grate out. Jake grabs a glass from your nightstand and holds it to your mouth. As you drink greedily, you can feel the cool liquid sloshing in your expanded chest, which rises and falls rapidly with each breath.

Jake sets the glass aside and frowns, his brow creasing in a way that makes him look almost stern. "I had to break down the door, man" - he says, gesturing to the splintered wood and broken furniture littering your room. The sight makes your head pound harder.

Fragmented memories flash through your mind, but they slip away like sand through a sieve, leaving you grasping at nothing. "I… I don't remember," you mumble, rubbing your temples. Little do you realise though, the virus had been violently rewriting your DNA while you were passed out, transforming you into a muscular, hyper-sexualized parody of masculinity - a hung, dumb jock bro with no thoughts beyond chasing his next high.

Jake frowns, his brow creasing in a way that makes him look almost stern. "Well, try to eat something. I made you some chicken soup - your favourite." He nods towards the steaming bowl on your desk.

You swing your legs over the side of the bed with a grunt, muscles screaming in protest. The room spins dizzily around you, and you grab onto the mattress for support. In the mirror across from you, you catch a glimpse of your reflection - gaunt face, wild eyes, and a body that looks… different somehow.

As you lift the spoon to your mouth, you can feel Jake watching you intently. The soup tastes bland compared to how ravenous you feel. You polish off the bowl in record time and slam it down on the desk. Sweat pours down your face and chest, soaking into the sheets beneath you. Your muscles twitch and flex involuntarily, as if eager to be put to use.

Jake's eyes widen as he takes in your physique - the bulging pecs glistening with sweat, the rock-hard abs clenching and unclenching with each labored breath. "Dude… you're fucking jacked," he marvels, reaching out to run a hand over your slick chest.

You moan at his touch, arching into it like a cat in heat. Your nipples are hard, almost painfully so, and ache for more stimulation. Jake seems to sense this - he leans down and drags his tongue over one of the sensitive nubs, making you gasp.

"Fuck bro, you taste so good" - he growls, laving attention on your chest with lips and teeth and tongue. "I just wanna… fuck…" He grinds against you, his own arousal evident through his straining pants.

Your head lolls back against the pillow as Jake worships your body, lost in a haze of sensation. The fever rages through you, stoking the fires of lust burning in your veins.

Jake sits up abruptly and strips off his shirt, revealing his own impressive physique. "Gotta get these sweaty clothes off," he grunts, shimmying out of his pants to reveal a massive erection straining against tight wet underwear.

He dives back onto the bed, covering your body with his own sweat-slicked one. You can feel every hard plane and ridge of muscle pressing against you as he kisses you deeply, hungrily.

You gasp at the sensation, your hips bucking up involuntarily to meet his. Your cock throbs, harder and bigger than you've ever been before. Jake licks his lips as he feels it straining against the fabric.

"Holy shit, you're hung too," he marvels, palming you through your pants. "Fuck bro, I just wanna suck you off so bad."

He starts tugging at your pants impatiently and you lift your hips to help him, mind hazing over with a desperate need for stimulation. As your massive cock springs free, Jake's eyes widen and he licks his lips hungrily.

"Damn dude, that's fucking huge," he breathes before diving down and swallowing as much of you as he can.

You groan loudly, head falling back against the pillow as Jake works your shaft with sloppy enthusiasm. Your hands tangle in his hair, holding him in place as you start to thrust shallowly into his mouth.

"Fuck yeah, suck my cock bro," you grunt, voice deeper and more aggressive than usual. "Gonna fucking nut down your throat."

Jake moans around you, sending delicious vibrations through your aching flesh. He takes you deeper, nose pressing against your pelvis as he swallows around your length.

It doesn't take long before you're cumming hard, vision whiting out as you shoot thick ropes of cum directly into Jake's stomach. He gulps it down greedily, not spilling a single drop.

As the waves of pleasure subside, you collapse back onto the bed, panting heavily. Jake crawls up your body with a shit-eating grin, licking his lips.

"Fuck dude, that was intense," he says, voice rough from the thorough cock-sucking. "You taste so fucking good."

He leans down to kiss you and you find yourself returning it eagerly, tongue delving into his mouth to taste yourself on him. Jake grinds against you, his own erection straining against his pants.

"Gonna fuck you now," he growls against your lips. "Gonna pump you full of my cum until you're dripping with it."

You moan in agreement, too far gone to care about anything else. As Jake lines himself up with your hole, you realise that all you want, all you need, is to be filled by him completely. Your body aches for it, craving the stretch and the fullness only his massive cock can provide. You look up at him with lidded eyes, pupils full of lust.

And as Jake slams into you balls-deep on the first thrust, you scream in ecstasy and surrender yourself completely to the transformation. Your old life fades away like a distant dream, replaced by this new existence of constant arousal and indulgence with your best bro.

Jake sets a brutal pace, pounding into you with animalistic grunts and growls. The room fills with the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin and both of your wanton moans. You meet each thrust eagerly, relishing the delicious burn of the stretch and the intense pleasure-pain of being used so roughly.

"Fuck yeah, take my cock you dumb slut," Jake snarls, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he rails into you. "Gonna fucking breed this pussy."

You can only moan in response, too lost in sensation to form words. Your own cock bobs lewdly with each thrust, drooling pre-cum onto your stomach. Jake leans down and captures your lips in a filthy kiss, all teeth and tongue as he continues his relentless assault on your ass.

The coil of pleasure winds tighter and tighter in your gut until finally it snaps, your second orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. You scream into Jake's mouth as you cum untouched, your cock pulsing out thick ropes of jizz between your bodies.

Jake hilts inside you one last time before stilling, his cock throbbing and twitching as he shoots load after heavy load deep into your guts. You can feel the heat of it flooding your insides, marking you as his property.

And as Jake rolls off you with a satisfied grunt, already snoring softly, you drift off into a deep, dreamless sleep, unaware of how different your life will be from now on. Your old aspirations and inhibitions have been replaced by a single-minded desire to spread this feeling of warmth in your groin, to be with your bros, to lift and pump, to fuck, and man… you're a total stud now. Tomorrow you'll probably go to the gym and pump some iron with your best bro Jake - and you couldn't have it any other way.

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Imperfect Couple - 2

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , Chapter 9 , Chapter 10 , Chapter 11 , Chapter 12 , Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing on Kindle.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

As the flash of cameras blinded you, a reporter stepped forward, her voice eager as she asked, "How are you feeling now? We heard you were seriously ill while working abroad."

You forced a smile, nodding. “I’m doing much better now, thank you. The treatment was tough, but I’m fine.”

Another reporter, sensing an opportunity to dig deeper, asked, “Can you tell us how you two met?”

You exchanged a brief glance with Bucky, before turning back to the crowd with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Well, we met at a music festival. I was in the corner trying to charge my phone, and this guy”—you gestured toward Bucky with a casual wave—“came over asking to borrow my charger. We started talking, mostly about music—our favorite artists, the ones we didn’t like. After that, we kept hanging out, and, well… it led to this.”

You smiled at the cameras, but there was a hint of something sharper in your eyes. “But, you know, not once did he ever mention his dream of going into politics,” you added, the words tinged with just enough edge to make Bucky flinch.

Bucky chuckled, the sound forced. “I didn’t want to scare her off.”

The press continued to bombard you both with questions, but most of them were directed at Bucky. He answered each one with the polished ease of a seasoned politician, while you stood there, feeling increasingly out of place and suffocated by the whole charade.

The situation you found yourself in—the pretense, the constant spotlight—filled you with a simmering frustration. You hated every minute of it.

As the car doors closed, you finally exhaled, the chaotic blur of cameras and flashing lights now safely behind tinted windows.

“Well done. You’re fitting right in,” Bucky said, his voice carrying that infuriating mix of arrogance and ease as he loosened his tie.

You turned to him, your eyes narrowing. “Do you think I’ll just stay silent? I could write an article that would burn everything you’ve worked for to the ground.”

He smirked, leaning back in his seat, crossing his arms with a casualness that made your blood boil. “Are you blackmailing me, babe?”

“Don’t call me that,” you snapped, rolling your eyes.

“We have to start acting like a happy couple. Nicknames are part of the package,” he replied, his smirk never fading.

“I fucking hate you,” you hissed, your voice barely above a whisper, loaded with every ounce of resentment you’d been holding in.

“I don’t, though. I never did,” Bucky responded, his tone softening, almost sincere.

You faltered for a moment, your defenses momentarily shaken. His words, no matter how simple, had a way of cutting deeper than you expected. But you quickly recovered, crossing your arms defensively.

“If I get elected, I promise your independent news company will have us as a sponsor,” Bucky continued, his tone now all business. “Isn’t your boss stressed out, looking for investors? Independent news still needs money to pay employees.”

You clenched your jaw. He was right, and you hated that he knew it. Your company was struggling, and his offer—no matter how twisted—would keep it afloat.

“Consider this a business relationship,” he added, his eyes locking onto yours, challenging you.

You leaned in closer, voice laced with sarcasm. “Oh, no, no. Whatever Bucky wants, Bucky always gets.”

Bucky’s eyes darkened, his smirk disappearing as he met your gaze with a seriousness that sent a chill down your spine. “Not this time. This time, I’m making sure we both get what we want. But don’t forget, if you decide to play with fire, be ready to get burned.”

The next thing, he did is made a video call, his eyes never leaving the screen. The call connected, and the familiar voice of your brother, Tim, came through the speaker.

“Hey, the numbers are looking great, bro,” Tim said, his enthusiasm evident even through the screen.

Bucky nodded approvingly. “Good. Oh, there’s someone who wants to see you.” He turned the phone to reveal you.

Tim’s eyes widened in surprise. “Omg, you’re back! You’re really here!”

Bucky chuckled, his expression smug. “I know, right?”

You were momentarily stunned, seeing your brother working for Bucky. The betrayal stung, making your heart twist in your chest. Tim’s presence here was a stark reminder of how deeply involved Bucky was in every aspect of your life now.

Tim pointed at you with a half-serious, half-playful expression. “Don’t mess this up.”

Bucky exchanged a few more words with Tim before ending the call. He looked over at you, his gaze intense. “He seems happy working with me. His hard work would be ruined if the truth got out, wouldn’t it, big sis?”

The words hung heavy between you, the implication clear. Bucky knew how protective you were of Tim and how much you cared for him. The tension in the car felt suffocating, every second stretching out as you tried to process the double blow of betrayal.

You turned away, staring out the window as the city lights blurred past. The weight of the situation pressed down on you, the realization of being trapped with no easy escape. Bucky was holding all the cards, and you were left grappling with the enormity of it all.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The car navigated through a series of well-manicured streets, finally pulling up to a grand, sprawling estate. Your eyes widened as you recognized Bucky’s house, an imposing structure that spoke of old money and inherited power. The sight only deepened your sense of dread.

As you stepped out, you glared at Bucky, frustration etched on your face. “Am I going to stay here?”

Bucky gave you a sidelong glance, his smile barely masking his amusement. “Oh no. We’ll be staying at another house. I just wanted to introduce you to the team.”

A sigh of exasperation escaped you. “Urghh… is your mother here too? I hate her.”

Bucky chuckled, his tone laced with mockery. “No filter, huh, babe? She’s here… but then again, you two have always had differing opinions.”

You shot him a withering look. “She’s the main reason I left. She hated me from the moment you introduced us. Remember? She called me a ‘poor bitch from Monte Cristo.’”

Bucky nodded, his expression a mix of amusement and resignation. “It’s her signature move.”

“Bucky, the longer I stay with you, the more I want to snap. If you put me in the same room with your mother, I might just lose it,” you snapped, your frustration boiling over.

Bucky’s smile remained, but his eyes grew colder. “Good thing you won’t have to share the same roof then.”

As you walked through the house grand entrance, one of Bucky’s team members approached him with an enthusiastic smile. “Introducing her to the public really boosted our numbers. Great move, James.”

Bucky glanced at you with a victorious grin, as if he’d just won a major battle.

Soon, his siblings made their appearance. His brother, a tall, disheveled figure with an air of erratic energy, was clearly under the influence of cocaine. He flashed a toothy grin at you before turning his attention elsewhere. His sister, reserved and quiet, offered you a polite nod, barely acknowledging your presence.

Then, his young nephew Nate bounded up to you, his face lighting up with recognition. He wrapped his small arms around your leg.

“Hey, Nate!” you said, surprised and touched that he still remembered you. “It’s been a while.”

Nate looked up at you with wide eyes. “I remember you! You used to play with me.”

You patted his head gently, feeling a pang of nostalgia.

Meanwhile, Caroline Barnes, Bucky’s mother, observed you from the corner of the room. At seventy, she looked every bit the part of the icy matriarch, dressed head-to-toe in Chanel. Her eyes, sharp and assessing, were framed by a carefully styled silver coiffure. She held her champagne glass with a delicate but dismissive grip.

“Something about her, I always hate. I can’t explain why,” Caroline said with a sneer, her gaze never leaving you.

Julius Barnes, Bucky’s father, stepped in. With his full gray beard and military posture, he exuded authority. “Be nice, Caroline. It’s crucial for her to be here. We can’t afford to lose this opportunity.”

You looked at Julius and Caroline. Both had clearly aged, their faces lined with the stress of the campaign.

Caroline forced a thin smile. “Welcome. It’s so delightful to have you here. I’m sure you’ll find the atmosphere… inspiring.”

You gave a tight-lipped smile. “Oh, you’re such a fucking liar.”

Caroline’s eyes widened in surprise at your boldness. “You’re really brave now,” she said, a hint of shock in her voice.

“Because I’m not part of your family anymore. The marriage between me and James was supposed to have ended,” you retorted, your voice cold and steady.

Caroline’s smile faltered, but she quickly regained her composure. “Well, dear, you must be quite the sight to behold for us tonight.”

Julius stepped in, trying to defuse the tension. “Let’s keep this civil. We have important matters to discuss.”

You glanced at Bucky, who watched the exchange with a bemused expression. It was clear that this charade was far from over, and you were trapped in a web.

As you and Bucky prepared to sit down on the plush couch, the campaign team busied themselves in the background, setting up for the next presentation. You moved to take a seat, but Caroline's voice cut through the murmur of activity with a sharp edge.

“Na-ahh. Put a blanket under her,” Caroline said, her tone dripping with disdain. “We don’t know what kind of virus she’s brought back from another country. And this is a $50,000 couch.”

You stared at her, incredulous. “What the fuck? Is that a joke?” You turned to Bucky, eyes flashing with irritation. “Because strangling her is a joke for me.” You chuckled darkly, “I think it's funny too.”

Bucky’s face tightened as he stepped between you and his mother. “Stop it, Mom. I need her more than I need your attitude.”

Caroline’s eyes narrowed, her face a mask of thinly veiled disdain. “Well, isn’t that just charming,” she said, rolling her eyes as if the very act of speaking to you was beneath her.

Julius, standing nearby, shot Caroline a stern look, his military bearing evident in the rigid set of his shoulders. “We’re trying to keep things civil. This isn’t the time for your petty grievances.”

Caroline huffed, crossing her arms with an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, fine. Let’s all just pretend we’re one big happy family, shall we?”

You took a deep breath, trying to suppress the growing anger bubbling inside you.

The room felt charged with tension, and it was clear that the facade of civility was wearing thin. Bucky gave you a reassuring glance, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of frustration.

Greg part of the campaign team, a wiry young man with an anxious energy, took center stage. He adjusted his glasses and began to explain the next phase of Bucky’s campaign strategy with a mix of nerves and enthusiasm.

“So the next plan is…” Greg said, his voice slightly shaky. He clicked through a series of slides on the screen behind him, each one detailing the upcoming events. “We’re focusing on increasing voter outreach through targeted social media campaigns and local meet-and-greets. We’ve also got a major fundraising event coming up next week.”

Bucky nodded, his expression a mask of professional detachment, though his eyes flickered with a hint of approval. You, seated beside him, tried to maintain your composure, though the tension in the room was almost palpable, especially with Caroline still glaring at you.

Greg continued, his tone growing more frantic as he reached the final point. “And the last thing…” He took a deep breath, glancing nervously between you and Bucky. “Both of you will need couples therapy.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, a sarcastic smirk tugging at your lips. “Oh, isn’t this just wonderful?”

Greg’s face reddened as he tried to recover from his awkward announcement. “I mean, it’s just… well, it’s a suggestion. You know, for the campaign’s sake. Sometimes, a little… uh… harmony at home can be beneficial.”

Bucky gave a tight smile, his gaze fixed on Greg. “I appreciate the suggestion, Greg. We’ll definitely consider it—maybe after we get through the rest of this circus.”

Greg nodded vigorously, clearly relieved to move on from the uncomfortable topic. “Right, of course. Well, let’s focus on the campaign, then.” He hurriedly wrapped up the meeting, leaving you both alone.

You sighed and turned to Bucky. “Did you wake up this morning and decide you wanted to be Vice President, or was it just a spontaneous career choice?”

Bucky leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a smirk. “Oh, you know me. I was just lying in bed, thinking how I could add ‘Vice President’ to my list of hobbies. Figured it’d be a nice change of pace from ruining your day.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, unamused. “And here I was thinking you might have a bit of humility left.”

Bucky chuckled, lifting an eyebrow as he shifted in his seat. “Humility? That’s for people who aren’t trying to get elected. But don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll find some way to make this circus amusing for both of us.”

He leaned forward, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Honey, I’ll give you the ticket.”

You raised an eyebrow, incredulous. “A ticket? To what, exactly? Your endless charade?”

Bucky’s smirk widened as he leaned back, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “To the front row of the greatest show on earth. It’s going to be quite a ride, I promise.”

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[guiltyandashamed]

THIS IS SP VAGUE BUT maybe MC who only ever wears skirts? You can ignore this if you want, btw I love your writing soooo much! 💗

headcannons: MC who wears skirts

(thx! this is such a cute idea thanks for giving me creative liberty)

You're a fashion-forward MC who wears skirts regularly, favoring shorter styles but always dressing with intentionality and flair. Whether it’s a casual mini, pleated tennis skirt, or a tailored high-waist piece that ties the outfit together, you make it work and make it look good. Your style is confident, expressive, and sometimes a little flirty without needing to explain itself. This is how the brothers react:

Lucifer

Lucifer is the type to notice everything, but he’s also impeccably restrained. He doesn’t show it, but he notices the way the fabric of your skirts sways with every step you take, how they highlight your legs in a way that makes him momentarily lose his train of thought. He’s a little protective, especially in public situations where he feels you might attract unwanted attention. If anyone dares comment on your outfit in a negative light, they’ll find themselves dealing with his cold glare. He won’t voice it, but he likes seeing you in skirts, it suits you, and there’s something about the way you carry yourself that makes the outfit look refined rather than overly flirtatious. Behind closed doors, he may even make a comment about how “those skirts seem to attract a lot of unwanted eyes." But it’s clear he’s protective in his own quiet way.

Mammon

Leviathan

You're killing him. Full stop. Every time you walk past in one of those short skirts, he’s internally combusting. His eyes dart, his brain short-circuits “D-don’t bend over like that, human! You tryin’ to give me a heart attack?!” He’s obsessed with your style and insists he’s just “lookin’ out for ya,” but let’s be real: he’s mesmerized. Jealous of the wind, even. He’ll end up buying you more skirts, too, under the excuse of “Ya looked cute in that last one so… here, whatever.” He’s mesmerized by how effortlessly confident you look, especially when you spin or twirl in a skirt. There’s something about the way you wear it that makes him feel both proud and possessive. If you wear a particularly flirty one, he may try to joke about it. “Gotta be careful with that one, yeah? Or I’ll be carrying you around all day to keep those other demons from looking.” As much as he likes the view, he’s also keen on making sure no one else gets too close

Levi’s not okay. He’s so used to fantasy characters wearing short skirts and now here you are, real-life, looking like an anime protagonist and walking next to him. He stares, then gets flustered, then tries not to stare. It’s a loop. He won’t say anything at first, but when you catch him sneaking glances, he practically folds in on himself. “Y-you’re seriously just gonna wear that? Like it’s n-no big deal?!” He lowkey loves it though, he just doesn’t know how to survive it. He’s embarrassed but can’t stop looking. He tries to distract himself by playing a new game or binge-watching anime, but no matter what, his eyes wander to the way your skirt fits. He tries to hide behind his computer screen or his manga, but the truth is, he’s a little in awe. The idea of you wearing skirts seems to match perfectly with his image of you as someone from a world that’s somehow more perfect than reality. He’ll ask if your willing to cosplay as some of his favorite skirt-wearing characters, and if you do, his brain blows a fuse.

Satan

Satan’s reactions are more subtle, but he’s definitely not immune to the way you carry yourself in a skirt. He watches you from across the room, admiring the way you can move freely, the skirts adding a graceful and almost playful quality to your every step. Satan’s the type to compliment the structure, the color coordination, the tailoring. But if your skirt’s especially short one day and you’re reaching for something on a high shelf? Yeah, he’s quietly gripping his book a little tighter. He won’t make crude comments, but he will murmur something like, “You enjoy turning heads, don’t you?” with that faint smirk of his. He’s far too composed to be obvious, but that doesn’t mean he’s unaffected. Sometimes, he’ll find himself absentmindedly running his fingers over the fabric if you sit near him, but he quickly catches himself. There’s no doubt that Satan finds it attractive and irresistible.

Asmodeus

Beelzebub

Asmo is all about skirts. He’s completely enchanted by the way they highlight your legs, and he's got no problem vocalizing it. "Darling, those skirts are a look—and it’s not just the fabric I'm noticing," he teases, his voice dripping with flirtation. If you wear skirts frequently, he’ll be ecstatic, constantly complimenting your outfit and suggesting even more glamorous ones he thinks would look perfect on you. But Asmo’s mischievous side kicks in, he'll “borrow” or “swap” your skirts for ones he deems a better fit. “You’re never going to wear that skirt again, darling,” he’ll say as he gives you something more revealing or sparkly. He’s a little sneaky with his admiration but always makes sure you know how divine you look. In fact, he might ask you to model them for him, just so he can see you twirl in the most attention-grabbing outfit possible.

Belphegor

Beel doesn’t say much, but he notices. Especially when you're walking ahead of him. He’ll glance down, tilt his head slightly, then snap his eyes forward like a gentleman. He’s protective without being overbearing, walking on the outside of the street, standing behind you in crowds. When others stare, he narrows his eyes. He doesn’t mind that you wear skirts; he minds that other people forget how to behave when you do. Still, when you ask him if it looks good, he’ll blink and say, “It looks really good on you,” like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. If you're ever a bit uncomfortable, or frequently pulling your skirt down in public, without a word he'll take his jacket off and wrap it around your shoulders. It's chivalry you'll willingly accept.

He teases you, of course. “Another skirt today? Trying to distract me from my naps?” But he’s a fan, even if he pretends not to be. When you wear something especially cute, he’ll tug you onto the bed and bury his face in your lap, mumbling, “Comfy and pretty. Nice.” He’s the one who’ll idly play with the hem while the two of you lounge together, eyes half-lidded, watching you from under long lashes. He likes how you express yourself, even if he pretends he’s too sleepy to care. He enjoys watching you move around the house, your skirts flowing with your every motion. If you catch him looking, he’ll roll his eyes, but there’s a flicker of admiration in his gaze. If he ever feels jealous or protective, he’ll only show it in the most passive-aggressive way, something like, “You really should change out of that before someone else starts staring, don’t you think?” But when he says it, you know it's his form of caring.

[angel-of-the-moons]

Bugs in A Rug

Steven Grant x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Fluff! Fluffy stuff! Cuteness! Nudity (somewhat) but nothing sexual. Possibly autistic!reader, implied soft-bodied Steven and Reader, self consciousness.

A/N: this came to me because I hate sleeping with clothes on because of how they make my skin feel all weird n junk so enjoy this very short blurb lol

You and Steven had been dating for a while. The two of you had your dates; you shared tea, snacks and the occasional documentary binge snuggled on your sofa.

You hadn't been intimate--nothing more than a kiss or a cuddle session--you hadn't even seen each other undressed. It's not that either of you weren't ready, per se... you were both so painfully awkward and self-conscious about it.

Poor Steven felt a little embarrassed of how soft his tummy had gotten as of late, the muscles far less defined than they used to thanks to Marc allowing him to "fatten them up", as Marc had jokingly claimed.

No matter how many times you had told him how cute and huggable it made them look, he always got so embarrassed about it. You inwardly cursed society's standards on how they pressured men to be cut like underwear models and body-building thirst traps.

But, at the same time... You felt ashamed and embarrassed about your own body. Too pudgy in the tummy, cellulite in your thick thighs, stretch marks across your delicate skin... Your breasts weren't even as perky as many other women's seemed to be. Wearing bras for long hours pained your shoulders and back and irritated your skin.

Steven caught you looking at yourself in one of his many mirrors (Marc and Jake, too, of course), looking at the soft rolls on your body, a frown crossing your sweet lips as you tugged your shirt down to hang not so tightly against you... And, just like you'd cursed social standards of beauty for men, Steven cursed them on your behalf, too. Society pressured everyone to be beautiful, to be "perfect" no matter that "perfect" was an unattainable goal mortals couldn't gain.

It wasn't easy, but you both tried to build each other up, brick by crumbling brick. Steven became more at ease with his softening physique, and you became slightly more comfortable with the angry lines crisscrossing parts of your body.

Maybe, in time, because of your shared love, you'd be comfortable enough to have sex with each other. But giving time and most definitely consent was the biggest things the two of you focused on. There was time enough to be intimate later on, what mattered more was the two of you feeling safe enough to do it. To be more than physical.

That mattered more.

Tonight, Steven was at your place. You decided it was far more comfortable to sleep in (and far less clutter to clean. Poor guy always felt sheepish of his "messy" flat.).

He placed his duffel on the chair next to your bed, and made a little "ooo" sound at how he sunk into your mattress, squishing his hand down on the comfy foam.

"Pff... I take it you approve?" You laughed sweetly at him.

"Yes, actually! 's like a big marshmallow!" He grinned at you, "I like it. I think I need to buy one... Might help the crick in my neck!"

"I got it on sale, I sleep like a baby on that thing." You smiled, your eyes twinkling in a cute, undeniably adorable way that made Steven's breath catch in his throat.

"I don't get why they say that." Steven snorted, shaking his head as he reached down to fix the top of his sock so it sat more comfortably on his calf. He was already dressed in his "pyjamas"; a t-shirt and some sweatpants, you were still dressed in your day clothes.

"Say what?" You asked.

"Sleep like a baby." He emphasized, "Babies wake up almost every two hours, I hear. Dreadful."

You snorted into your hand at his dramatic shudder, "Well, I mean..."

"Y' should say you sleep like a... a capybara, or a sloth, or something." He added, grinning when you erupted into full blown laughter.

"You're such a dork." You sigh, turning on your telly to pick some idle thing to play for background noise as you both drifted off to sleep.

Steven leaned down, remembering to grab his vapor rub--his allergies were killing him, lately--from his duffel next to your bed.

"So, I was thinking," He started as he screwed the cap off, "that tomorrow, we can head out to the--"

He nearly dropped the jar of jelly when he watched as you just--oh, so casually just--just pulled your top and bra off in one go; your soft breasts dropping free of their confines.

You gasped when he did, indeed, finally drop it, and that's when your brain kicked in.

You were home. But you weren't alone. Steven was here--and you just basically stripped in front of him!

You made an undignified noise and dropped to your knees, hiding behind the edge of your mattress to conceal yourself; your brain too embarrassed to simply tell you to pull your shirt back on.

"Oh, god!" You moaned in shame, "I--I'm sorry! I... When I get ready for bed, I--I usually... I don't sleep well when--I don't wear clothes to bed because they--they feel weird on my skin and I get hot and I--"

Steven placed the jar of vapor rub on the bed and turned, smiling at you patiently, still flushed with embarrassment.

"Love..."

"I'm sorry." You blurt, feeling a knot of anxiety lodge in your throat.

"Love, no, it's okay?" He tried, lowering his voice like he was trying to coax a scared kitten from behind a dumpster. "I understand, you're used to a routine, not used to it bein' interrupted. Your brain kind of went into autopilot, I know you didn't mean anything by it, sweet'art."

You peeked up at him, still cringing with unnecessary shame, as he continued, "Babygirl... I... You don't have to be ashamed. How about--ah! Waitaminute."

You watched as Steven awkwardly fumbled, almost tripping, really; as he pulled his shirt off, his messy curls tumbling over his forehead. He then reached down and tugged his sweatpants off, revealing boxers with cute little kittens and cups of tea on them. Calicos, black cats, tabbys...

It was so... Steven.

He still wore his calf-high fuzzy socks, the hairs on his legs poking through here and there as he grinned sheepishly at you, "There! That way, you sleep in your undies, I sleep in mine. If we're dressed the same, it's less awkward, yeah?"

Your heart squeezed in your chest at his gesture. You looked at him--and how he waited so patiently for your answer, his face a little reddened as he pushed some of his stray dark locks out of his forehead; looking at you with those adorable, wet puppy-dog eyes of his.

Finally, you move to stand, swallowing the lump in your throat as Steven watched you. His eyes weren't heavy with any intent, just pleading. Still patient, and oh so loving.

You drop your shirt and bra, turning your gaze towards the TV, waiting for something else... some sort of verbal blow that you logically knew wasn't going to come, but had come from partners in the past.

You watched him once again as he sat on your bed, his back to you as he applied the vapor rub carefully around his nostrils, and then one by one pulled his socks off to rub the jelly on his feet before putting them back on.

You felt... at ease. Happy, thankful.

You hesitantly wiggled your jeans down your legs and quickly sat down on your bed before yanking the covers up to your chin, looking at Steven as he, himself got comfy in bed.

He turned on his side to look at you, and smiled, "See? Can't say I've ever had to listen to a dress code to sleep, but..."

"You... You don't have to."

"But I want to." He insisted, "I love you, sweet'art. You always tell me to love myself, but I catch you acting the same way I do with myself towards your own body. You're gorgeous."

He reaches out to caress a knuckle down your cheek, the scent of the vapor rub clinging to his finger; the menthol making your nasal cavities tingle.

"And technically speaking.... I mean... It's sort of similar to seeing someone in their swimsuit, innit? Like, imagine I'm in my swim trunks, and you're...." His face twitched, his nose crinkling as he tried to think.

"You're wearing a bikini. And... And a seagull or something flew off with your top?"

You choke on a laugh, "A seagull? Really, Steven?"

"Hey! It's the best I could think of!" He grins, wiggling his hand beneath the blanket to poke at your tummy playfully.

"Or, maybe you undid your top to get a sun tan or... something?"

You laugh again, squirming away from his fingers as he tries to tickle you.

"You're really not uncomfortable?" You peeped.

"I could never be uncomfortable around you, babygirl." He says to you gently, his voice low and calm. "We're just going to snuggle like we do every other day, alright? That's all."

You smile, nodding.

Finally, you relent, tucking yourself against Steven, resting your head on his chest and arm over his midsection as you both sink into your plus mattress; Steven's hand idly stroking the skin of your shoulder as you both drifted off to sleep, watching the documentary you'd picked.

You didn't know why you ever feared Steven would be repulsed or nervous about your body.

And, well... his kitty cat boxers were adorable...

[en-gelic]

bubblegum ✸ 엔하이픈

syn. to be loved by them. gn. idolxnon-idol, fluff ⋆ wc 873 ! warnings. skinship, kisses ୨୧ so sweet like bubblegum ʚɞ BOOKSHELF! ⋆

🗯 taglist : @cholexc @07sleepykatz @seunghancore (ask or comment to be added !)

To be loved by lee heeseung meant he would continuously remind you of how much he loved you by kissing you in his favourite places— your neck, your fingers and your jawline. Tying your hair when you were working or busy, and staring holes through your back when you were applying lip gloss, eagerly waiting to wipe it off. Late night calls you would have when he couldn't sleep resulted in you reciting your notes to him, which usually had him asleep in minutes. If it were you struggling to fall asleep, he would sing to you causing you to unconsciously end up staying up just to listen to his voice. You made him cover any song possible and got exclusive covers just for the two of you. He would show off in front of the members whenever you would watch him game.

To be loved by park jongseong meant him sending you options for your hair dye at unholy hours of the morning and coming over extra early to help you with it. Constantly asking whether you had eaten and whether your work was going well. He would be over at your house, scolding you on eating too much fast food and making meal preps for whenever you were too busy. Consulted you before buying anything, which was a terribly bad option as you were the type to encourage anything but kitchen appliances that aren't coffee makers. He would also send you any flavour of coffee he was able to find and constantly expressed his love through sending you gifts wherever he was.

To be loved by sim jaeyun meant him letting you tie his hair into little ponytails even if you tugged too hard. Giving you piggy-backs and using your height difference as an advantage when he wanted to tease you. He would ruffle your hair a lot, which was a habit of his you hated the most. Kissing your head before he went anywhere and teaching you how to fish was his favourite things to do. Whenever he saw an opportunity, he took random photos of you that you never saw until he posted it and defended himself by the fact that they were quite good.

To be loved by park sunghoon meant picking his jewelry— especially glasses and taking any accessory you could find from his collection. Calling you every hour when he was abroad just to ask you whether you were fine and giving you any shirt with his name on it and making you wear it when you were going out with friends to show his 'dominance' he had said to defend himself. He would pout if you didn't say 'I love you' before ending the call and demanded a kiss as an apology. Would send you photos of scenery when he was away and had the habit of eating food that you like on your behalf.

To be loved by kim sunoo meant spending evenings binge watching popular shows while hating most of their plots. Getting you to watch horror movies with him because you were the clingiest when you were scared. Applying your lipgloss for you to give the reason that since he put it on, he can take it off and washing your hair whenever you didn't feel like doing it. Peppering your face with kisses in the excuse that his lips were like free skincare. Would organise your wardrobe every other week, complaining about how disorganised you were. He would be very serious when it comes to not eating until the movie began and would slap your hands away if you tried to eat before it played.

To be loved by yang jungwon meant him picking up souvenirs from anywhere he want and matching clothes with you on purpose but acting as if he didn't mean to. Would send a message before going live to make sure you were able to attend every live if you could. Buys you everything that you like in the convenience store and dumps it all in your house whenever you weren't around, leaving a note he scribbled before leaving. He would create random nicknames for you and send an English 'word of the week' to help with the two of you learning English.

To be loved by nishimura riki meant inside jokes which only the two of you could understand. Fiddling with his rings when he held your hand and raiding his closet whenever you got the chance. He would purposely buy things for 'himself' that he knew you would like, and pretending to be irritated when you take them. Putting things in high places you can't climb up to get just so you could ask him for help. Constantly getting him to draw for you, no matter how many times he says that he's not that good. Adoring your cats whenever he came over and making sure that they weren't bothering you when you were busy with work. Trying to lose every game for you because you were too competitive. Back hugs and cuddles with his body either towering or covering yours which was the best form of body heat in winter. He habitually pretends to not see you since you were much shorter than him.

[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist || SPECIAL SHORT STORY ||

paring(s) -> ATEEZ x reader warning(s) -> SUGGETIVE note -> HAPPY HALLOWEEN !!

y/n’s perspective

“I really wonder how they’re older than I am,” Jongho said as I laughed. San and Wooyoung were arguing about what I should dress for Halloween, which was a bit silly since they fought against putting cat ears or fox ears on my head. 

Yeosang just smiled at their stupid behavior… mainly with evil intent because he and Seonghwa already agreed on my outfit and had it in their room away from the two fighting. 

“y/n-nie why not a dog–” “SHUT UP YOU OVERGROWN WOLF!” Woosan yelled at Mingi, who, at the sudden shout and growls, hid behind Yunho who only laughed at the sight.

“Why does it matter anyway? The two of you have the matching couple outfit” Yunho pointed out and the two glared at him. “Aren’t you going as a spider?” San said and Wooyoung laughed. “What a pathetic outfit–” “y/n! They're mean!” Yunho yelled while now going towards me on the couch hugging my waist and placing his head on my lap. 

“Let them handle their immaturity themselves,” Seonghwa added as Hongjoong laughed beside him. The only ones who knew about the Halloween outfit were the two tigers and Mastermind doberman. 

“y/n I’m your first hybrid–” “I knew her longer!” The two argued and I sighed. While looking at the trio who only looked away from me wanting to enjoy their fight more. 

“You like my costume right?” Yunho pouted and I smiled. He was going to be dressed as spiderman. In a normal outfit with the one piece suit under the clothes to reveal in a dramatic fashion. “Of course I do!” I said and he smiled and wagged his tail. 

“I want to dress as Spiderman!” Yunho came over to yell happily. “Oh?” I asked knowing where this was going… Since he got into video games he’s also gotten into comics, especially Spiderman comics. It was… cute seeing the big golden retriever wag his tail happily while reading a comic or even watching anything Spiderman related in front of the TV.  “But I thought we were gonna do a matching outfit!” Mingi asked, pouting at the older canine hybrid who signed at his friend’s distress. “You can be venomous?” he asked and Mingi scoffed. “That stupid alien, no thanks” he pouted and Yunho really really really wanted to be dressed as the superhero. “Mingi… you don’t have to match with Yunho? You can be anything you want that maybe Yunho wouldn't dress as anyway?” I asked and his mind went blank. “I don’t know! I just know I would rather have Jongho threaten me than be dressed as a stupid alien” he said and I laughed. For some reason… his irrational fear from Jongho yelling at him that one time traumatized him for life. “Oh! Let me and Yeosang choose!” Yunho said and he looked at his friend skeptical.  “Don’t dress me stupid?” “I promise!

Mingi… Well, his outfit did end up being picked by Yeosang and Yunho… While Yeosang liked to tease the wolf… Yunho was absolutely serious about what they ended up choosing. Yeosang laughed at the princess outfit he chose… but Yunho told me to buy it happily and with his eyes sparkling that I couldn’t say no.  So I said to myself I'd take Mingi to choose his outfit instead but I didn’t expect his reaction to simply smile softly at Yunho and say it was perfect. Truthfully… When Yunho pulled it out everyone was shocked he was being serious and even laughed until Mingi spoke up and said he loved it when everyone then had to pretend they never thought of it as a joke.  So Mingi was gonna be a pink princess with a tiara and everything for Halloween with his canine best friend as spiderman… how truly opposites they were. 

“y/nnie! y/nnie! I wanna dress up with Sannie!” Woyoung yelled excitedly when he heard we were celebrating this year. He grinned and looked at so many costumes while he simply let him choose what they would be. Until he found something… Harry potter. While it was now fall Harry potter was now back in season in which he and San binged it all.  And then… they found sorting quizzes… “HOW THE HELL ARE YOU A SLYTHERIN?!” Wooyoung yelled when he saw the words Slythern in the sorting quiz that San took. He was sure he would’ve been a Hufflepuff but no… he made the panther take so many quizzes until each time it was Slytherin.  Wooyoung of course was a Gryffindor.  So the two were dressing up as mages… but for some reason when it came to asking me what I would wear, I was gonna tell them Yeosang and Seonghwa said they have an outfit for me… that they got too excited and cut me off saying I should be a hybrid this year. Which I thought of as dehumanizing at first but the two were so excited I figured out it was primal for them… it's like when San put me in Wooyoung’s collar that one time. They wanted to see in a… different way. 

“Halloween? I hate the holiday” Hongjoong said when he saw the Halloween decorations Wooyoung mass ordered. “Hmm? Is it because of the…” I trailed and he nodded. I was gonna say he didn’t have to celebrate when Seonghwa came into the living room where he also saw the decorations. “Oh, are we celebrating? Are we also dressing up?” he asked, actually excited with his tail swishing behind him. “Huh? Oh, Wooyoung and San so far have taken the intuitive approach and ordered their outfits already, while I know Yuno and Mingi are thinking about theirs "I said and Soenghwa nodded while looking at Hongjoong.  “Should we dress up? Maybe we can match?” he asked his fellow tiger who chuckled and reluctantly agreed. “Ok, why not?” he asked as I was confused at his sudden acceptance. “If it makes you uncomfortable–” “It's fine really… the circus can ruin everything about my life,” he said and I smiled at his sudden response.  “Circus? Hmm… we can even dress up as clowns” he laughed and I was shocked he said that while even Hongjoong laughed. “I’d want to be something scarier than a clown”  he suggested so why did we end with their suggestions…  Hongjoong wanted to be a pirate of all things which also wasn't scary like he said… while Seonghwa, I think he’s been online too much and showed me the sudden phenomenon of hot men behind the Ghost Face mask and wanting to be Ghost Face… I’d be lying if I didn’t find it a bit attractive. 

“Yeosang said that I’m like Gloomy Bear and that I should dress up as him?” Jongho said and I didn’t want to laugh. I really didn’t… but Yeosnag hex to have been joking when he suddenly said that.  Then again… he is a bear hybrid with an obsession with fruit. While gloomy is a domesticated bear with a love for pomegranates.  “It's a pink bear Jongho,” I said and he scoffed. “So he was making fun of me again,” he said but signed and huffed. “I guess I'll do it… I have nothing else to dress up as and I don’t wanna be a vampire like Seonghwa-hyung was suggesting” he said and I smiled.  He respected Yeosang the most… so he decided on doing hybrid safe fur paint while simply being gonna wear white clothing with a blood platter, a simple outfit, and effortless. 

“How did you get Seonghwa to agree to you doing this?” I asked and Yeosang smirked. He wanted to be a wolf… while he was a canine hybrid he wanted to be dressed as the Big Bad Wolf. In simple black clothing while adding gray spray paint to his ears and tail with a pink bonnet on his head. It was cute when you didn't see his face… which he was gonna add fake blood on his canine teeth and face while wanting to dress me up as Red Riding Hood.  Seonghwa took charge with Yeosang to find me an outfit while he suggested something sexier. Yeosang also liked the primal aspect of it and bribed Seonghwa with something he still won’t tell me.  All to be matching with me as Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf.

please don't be a silent reader !! reblog, comment, and like <3

[human-dog-pound]

Elliot Kane was a name that lit up marquees and magazine covers—a 32-year-old actor with chiseled features, tousled black hair, and a smoldering intensity that had made him Hollywood’s go-to heartthrob. He’d starred in blockbusters as brooding detectives, charming rogues, and tragic heroes, but behind the red-carpet smiles, Elliot harbored a secret: he was gay, and he’d spent his career carefully guarding that truth from the world.

One night, after a long day of dodging paparazzi, Elliot scrolled through his Instagram DMs, deleting the usual flood of thirst traps and fan gushing. Then one message caught his eye—simple, unassuming, from a guy named Ryan: “Hey, loved you in Shadow Line. That scene with the lighter? Killer. Also, fellow sci-fi nerd here—Blade Runner or 2001?” Intrigued by the lack of over-the-top flattery, Elliot typed back, “Thanks, man. Tough call, but Blade Runner. You?”

What started as a casual exchange about movies spiraled into daily chats. Ryan, a 29-year-old graphic designer from Pasadena, was sharp-witted and grounded, with a goofy charm that disarmed Elliot. They bonded over a shared love of old synth music, obscure comics, and greasy diner food. After weeks of texting, Ryan suggested meeting up. “No pressure,” he wrote. “Just two nerds grabbing burgers.” Elliot hesitated—fans could be unpredictable—but something about Ryan felt safe. He said yes.

Their first hangout at a hole-in-the-wall diner was easy, electric. Ryan’s hazel eyes sparkled when he laughed, and Elliot found himself loosening up, the weight of his public persona slipping away. Soon, they were meeting regularly—late-night drives, movie marathons at Ryan’s apartment, quiet hikes where no one would spot them. The chemistry was undeniable, and Elliot’s guarded heart started to crack open. He’d never let himself fall for a guy before, but Ryan’s warmth was pulling him in.

One evening, sprawled on Ryan’s couch after a Star Wars binge, Ryan grinned mischievously and tossed a popcorn kernel at Elliot. “Fetch, pup!” he teased. Elliot laughed, swatting it away, but Ryan kept going, ruffling Elliot’s hair and cooing, “Who’s a good boy?” in an exaggerated tone. Elliot rolled his eyes, but the playful affection stirred something unfamiliar—something thrilling.

A few days later, over beers on Ryan’s patio, Ryan got quiet, then said, “Okay, weird confession time. You know how I’ve been calling you ‘pup’? I’m… kinda into puppy play. Like, roleplaying as a dog and owner. It’s a kink thing, but it’s also just fun for me.” Elliot blinked, caught off guard. Ryan rushed on, “I don’t mean to freak you out! It’s just… you’d make a cute pup, you know?” He flashed a lopsided grin, but his cheeks were pink.

Elliot’s mind raced. He’d never heard of puppy play, and the idea sounded absurd—crawling around, pretending to be a dog? But Ryan’s earnestness softened the weirdness. “I don’t get it,” Elliot admitted. “What’s the appeal?”

“It’s like letting go,” Ryan said. “No stress, no expectations—just play. And for me, taking care of a ‘pup’ is sweet, you know? Intimate.” He paused, then added, “You’re an actor. Think of it as a role. No pressure—if you hate it, we stop.”

Elliot chewed his lip. He’d spent his life acting, slipping into other skins. Maybe this wasn’t so different. “Okay,” he said finally. “I’ll try it. But if I look ridiculous, you’re buying me dinner.”

Ryan lit up. He grabbed a spare belt from his closet, fashioned it into a makeshift collar, and knelt in front of Elliot. “Ready, pup?” Elliot nodded, awkward but curious, and dropped to his knees. Ryan scratched behind his ears, murmuring, “Good boy.” Elliot barked hesitantly, feeling silly—until Ryan’s gentle petting melted his self-consciousness. For the first time in years, he felt unscripted, free.

They started small—Elliot scampering around Ryan’s living room, chasing a thrown sock, nuzzling Ryan’s hand for praise. The more they did it, the more natural it felt. Ryan would snap his fingers and say, “Sit,” and Elliot would obey, grinning as Ryan fed him a treat (usually a pretzel). Soon, Elliot was bounding around on all fours in Ryan’s fenced backyard, barking happily while Ryan tugged a leash they’d upgraded from the belt. It was intimate, playful, and oddly liberating—Elliot could shed the polished star and just be.

Trouble came one crisp October morning. They were in Ryan’s yard—Elliot in a leather collar, leash in Ryan’s hand—when a paparazzo perched in a tree across the street snapped a photo. By noon, the image was everywhere: “Elliot Kane on a Leash—What’s He Into?” The internet exploded with memes, speculation, and crude jokes. Elliot’s phone buzzed with panicked calls from his agent, but he just sat on Ryan’s couch, head in his hands.

“I’m screwed,” he muttered. “They’ll crucify me.”

Ryan squeezed his shoulder. “Or… you could own it. You’re happy like this, right? So tell them.”

Elliot looked at him, heart pounding. Coming out as gay was one thing—he’d been inching toward it with Ryan—but as a pup? Yet Ryan’s steady gaze gave him courage. That night, Elliot posted a statement on Instagram: “Yeah, that’s me. I’m gay, I’ve got a boyfriend, and I’m into puppy play. It’s weird, it’s me, and I’m done hiding.” He hit send, braced for backlash.

The response was a tidal wave—some hate, sure, but more support than he’d dreamed. Fans cheered his honesty; queer communities embraced him as a icon. And Hollywood? It adapted. Within months, Elliot landed a role as a loyal hound in a fantasy epic, bounding across sets with a tail prosthetic and a bark that critics called “startlingly authentic.” More dog roles followed—a gruff stray in a drama, a goofy pup in a comedy—and Elliot nailed them all, his ease in the skin of a canine unmatched.

He and Ryan kept their routine, too. After shoots, Elliot would come home, slip into his collar, and curl up at Ryan’s feet, barking for a pat. The world knew him now—gay, pup, and proud—and for the first time, Elliot felt like the star of his own story.

[karlachismylife]

Thots on how they would react if you got sick?

(totally not self indulgent right now)

Oh no, my lovely spouse is sick :( Get well soon, lovie, and here are some little speedrun headcanons for you ahead of everything, as a treatment!! Beware, there are some NSFW parts under the cut :) So MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT I swear I get so upset every time I have to block some ageless blog. If it's so hard to put your age in the bio, just DO NOT TOUCH THE POST!! I'd rather keep you around to read my SFW pieces than block you altogether.

Okay sorry for yelling, here we go

CW: gn!sick!reader, reader is somewhat being stubborn about getting treatment at some points, sickness unspecified, but I wrote with something cold-adjacent in mind since we're in the cold season, a bit of controlling behavior from Ghost and Price.

Soap is Mister Indulgence. Any cravings you get, be it three kilograms of crisps for breakfast or his Mam's soup you suddenly want to taste at 2 am, he's getting his ass out of bed and runs to the store or puts on an apron to make the soup. You want some tea with sugar and lemon? How much teaspoons of sugar? What, you tried it and turned out you wanted a teaspoon less? No worries, he'll make it again. You wanna binge your favourite show? Listen to "your" song fifty times in a row? Cuddle and nap on his hot chest for eight hours? Whatever you want, bonnie, his Maw always said that good mood is the most important step in getting better, so Johnny would rather die than not keep you satisfied during sick time.

He might not be the most well-versed in medical stuff, but he definitely uses his Mam's knowledge (and she is one wise woman, I tell you) and whatever experience he has himself to get you both real treatment and some homemade remedies. Swears he doesn't get sick (ever, bonnie!) when you try to shoo him away worried he'll catch whatever you have.

Drops sick the very next day you finally are all good again (and behaves as if he's actually dying, even though he has like three times lighter symptoms than you cuz that man has an immune system of a beast).

Ghost is mean about it, cruel and ruthless. At least that's what you tell him when he wakes you up to make you drink some medicine or, even worse, change you out of your sweaty pjs, help you bathe and (this one is almost breakup-worthy betrayal) take you to a doctor. No amount of pleading, whining and pouting can deter him from making sure you're getting appropriate treatment.

Truth be told, he's probably blaming himself, because under his care you should've never gotten sick in the first place. This means he's probably checking your wardrobe and adding some warmer clothes and shoes (no more wearing old sneakers when it's already rain season!) to it, probably inspecting all the food you've eaten recently in case it was bad, proofing all the windows against drafts... and somehow he still finds time to be around you all the time, holding you in your fever-induced sleep, changing cold wet towels on your forehead and caring for you.

Might or might not catch the sickness from you, which reveals that he's an even worse patient than you, constantly grumpy, wrapped in three blankets and trying to put an indifferent face, but so, so pathetic when the fever gets actually high. He will be good if you promise to hold him in your lap and stroke his hair with cold fingers.

Gaz isn't as indulgent as Soap, but he gives you a lot of autonomy and trusts that you know best what treatment helps you. So if you say you don't feel like you need to call a doctor, he won't force you; he'll buy the medicine you tell him to buy, and if he thinks it's not the best choice, he'll just suggest an alternative, leaving the final decision up to you. Also has some homemade remedies ready to go if you're willing to try them, but leans heavily towards scientifically proven treatments.

He definitely tries to keep you if not active (no hikes or something, but maybe little walks around the apartment once the worst wave passes) then at least entertained, and not in "200 episodes of a dumb sitcom watched alone" way. Of course, if that's what you're feeling, get your sitcom fill, angel (he's not one to judge, he is keeping up with like a hundred series somehow), but if you're up to play some games, Kyle is more than happy to. Puzzles, card games, board games - maybe not so much computer games, since he wants you to be mindful of your eyes health, but a little bit? Sure. If you don't wanna play games, he still wants to keep you company so that you don't feel like you're missing out on life alone in your bed.

Probably the one who is the least likely to catch your sickness, because he ACTUALLY never gets sick, that pretty boy possesses some magic, I'm telling ya. Buf if he somehow does, he's the best patient who doesn't even need your help (but will accept it since he doesn't want you to feel guilty and it's just nice). For the three days that he's sick before he's healthier than ever.

Price is also very insistent on you getting proper treatment, but he doesn't go about it in Ghost's stern manner - no, he's a sly, smart dog, he's sweettalking you into thinking half of it is your own idea and he's just there to provide. If he needs to, he plays up his worried behavior and voila, you're already taking your medicine and days off from studies or work, simply because you don't want to worry your John's bleeding heart. Drops casually something like "good thing doc's office is on the way to the base, I can drop you off before finishing that bloody report they're wanting my head for and then pick you up, lovie" - and when you note that you actually don't feel like your sickness is doctor visit worthy, he sighs and tells you that he'll stay with you then. Of course now you have to agree, you can't let him get in trouble with the report simply because you didn't want to go to the doctor!

In all the other aspects he is absolutely doting and spoiling. Will casually look through fifteen stores until he finds the exact type of natural juice gummies you once mentioned your parents got you when you were sick. Absolutely no smoking around you or even in the apartment - and he also makes sure he doesn't smell too much of tobacco before coming into your room. Will baby you in whatever way you want (yes, he will read you your book aloud) or simply stay at your side to assist you with different things if you're not into that. But god forbid you try to get back to work or studying before John Price deems you recovered enough...

Probably catches the sickness, but pretends he didn't until it's too obvious to deny. Will do all the things he reprimanded you for: try to work, keep smoking, avoid doctor etc.

Hyena!141 bonus: they absolutely cuddle you in their hyena form and do not shift into humans when you need them to fetch something like a pillow or more paper tissues. They're your fluffy cuddle buddies that are there to grumble and purr for you soothingly, keep the chills away and lick your forehead, nape and wrists to cool the fever down. Shove their snouts in different places on your body to check the temperature (no thermometer needed!) and tickle you, give you paw massages if your muscles ache and suddenly get on their best behavior (yes, even Soap). Furry menaces who? Not them, they're the sweetest boys!

NSFW under the cut, once again, minors and ageless blogs DNI or I'll block you (and cry about it!)

CW: gn!reader, oral sex, fingering, brat tamer Ghost (so it's consensual in case I didn't make it clear enough), penetrative sex with Gaz (bottom!gn!reader).

Soap is also number one advocate of "sex is proper treatment", so if you're not feeling too bad and have some energy to spare, he'll gladly eat you out and unleash his oral fixation on you. As treatment, of course. Also maybe because you're so hot that you're practically burning his tongue and it feels as if he dipped his face into the sweetest, freshly-baked pie, when you squeeze his mug between your overheating thighs. He'll do more if that's what you want, but if all you want is to come on his face, he'll lick, suck and rub as much as you need - yes, he spilled in his sweatpants just from pleasuring you and grinding against the sheets, but can you really blame him for enjoying a warm meal a little too much? Will probably compare your "sick" taste to your "healthy" one. No, he does not know what the word "shame" means.

Ghost is reluctant to have sex when you're sick, because, well... you're sick, you shouldn't exhaust your body, because it needs all the strength to fight whatever it is you caught. But once you start getting better (and as a result much, much brattier, since now you have the energy to not just whine and pout, but also to be a little defiant shit), he is absolutely using his fingers to reward or punish you for complying or resisting the treatment. Are you being good, taking your medicine, measuring your body temperature and doing whatever else doctor told you to? Good, you deserve to cum on his fingers, lovie, just lean back and let him do all the work. What's that, you don't wanna drink your medicine, because it tastes bad, and you hid the thermometer? Well, love, he hopes you don't mind getting your temperature checked a little more old-fashioned way. And if you don't like your medicine, maybe having his fingers in your mouth, muffling all your protests, will change your mind. After all, that's what you wanted to achieve by being a brat, didn't you?

Gaz is already the king of gentle sex, but if you ask him to indulge you while you're sick, he'll be as tender as only molten marshmallow fluff can be. Caressing your feverish skin with his soft palms, making sure to avoid possibly hurting joints or muscles, going down on you with his sweet, honeyed mouth before even trying anything else. Can actually give you a perfect massage (even the normal kind) and add some lightweight petting and fingering to it. If you want to have penetrative sex though, he finds the best position (probably spooning, his arm cradling your head so it doesn't spin or hurt, and your body resting without any extreme stretches or strains) and takes you slowly and carefully. Doesn't let you worry about his orgasm at all, but if you feel like cockwarming him, he won't say no, that's for sure :) let him soak in some of that heat directly from you, angel, eh?

Price will probably need the most persuasion to engage with you sexually during your sick time, he is worrying about you too much, so the best you can get is probably his fingers and mouth closer to you already getting fully healthy again. He's just scared he'll go too rough on you regardless of how careful he's trying to be, lovie. But if he ends up catching you masturbating (and failing probably, since you're still too weak for such activities), he'll have no choice but to help you finish, careful tongue strokes and finger movements along with soft grumbling about him "leaving you just for five minutes, and you're already up to no good, love!" Don't let him fool you, he's the happiest man, because he both gets to pleasure his partner and because this means you're getting better.

[sturniololuvz]

Could you do one where their little sister is getting too big for her clothes because she’s been struggling with a b.e.d and it’s the summer and Chris notices she’s wearing a hoodie even though it’s hot and they all get worried but she doesn’t wanna admit that she’s getting bigger - I’m struggling atm and your fics bring me so much comfort

aw i’m sorry , i struggle with this as well

“Too Hot for Hoodies”

The AC in the house was barely keeping up with the Boston summer heat. Matt was walking around shirtless, Nick had practically taken up residence in front of the fan, and even Chris had swapped out his usual hoodie for a tank top and shorts.

But their little sister?

Still in a hoodie. Black. Oversized. Hood up.

Chris noticed it first.

They were getting ready to go out — a casual lunch and errands — and while the guys were all sweating by the front door, she was standing there, pulling her sleeves down over her wrists like she was trying to disappear.

“Hey,” Chris said gently, coming up beside her. “Aren’t you hot in that?”

She didn’t look at him. Just shrugged. “It’s fine.”

He watched her tug the sleeves lower. He saw the way she kept shifting, like she couldn’t get comfortable in her own skin.

Matt was already halfway out the door when Chris grabbed his keys and whispered, “You guys go ahead. I’ll meet you there.”

Nick frowned but nodded.

Chris turned back to her as the door shut. “Talk to me.”

She still wouldn’t meet his eyes. “It’s not a big deal.”

“You’re wearing a hoodie in ninety-degree weather.”

“I said it’s fine, Chris.”

He softened his voice. “Is it about your clothes?”

Her silence answered for her.

Chris hesitated for a second, then sat on the stairs. “I’ve noticed the laundry’s been different lately. Shirts you used to love are at the bottom of the hamper. You haven’t worn shorts once this summer. And… I’ve seen the wrappers sometimes. Late at night.”

She flinched.

“I’m not mad,” he said immediately. “I’m worried. You don’t have to hide this from us.”

Her voice cracked when she finally whispered, “I think I’m getting too big.”

Chris’s heart shattered. “Too big for what?”

She finally sat down next to him, hoodie still clutched tight around her. “For the clothes I used to like. For the pictures I used to feel okay in. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just… eat, even when I’m not hungry, and then I feel awful after. I try to stop, but I can’t. And now none of my clothes fit right and I don’t want anyone to look at me.”

Chris didn’t say anything for a moment.

He just wrapped an arm around her and let her cry into his shoulder.

When her breathing finally slowed, he said, “There’s nothing wrong with you. Binge eating disorder is real. And it doesn’t mean you’re broken. It means you’re overwhelmed, and your brain is trying to cope in the only way it knows how. But we’re gonna help you find better ways. Healthier ones. Ones that don’t leave you hurting after.”

“I feel disgusting.”

“You’re not. Not even close.”

She sniffled. “What if people stare?”

“They might,” he said honestly. “But who cares? You’re still you. Still smart, hilarious, kind. Still my little sister. And Matt and Nick? They’ll back you up no matter what.”

Chris stood up and held out his hand. “C’mon. Let’s put on something comfy, ditch the hoodie, and go get lunch. Then tomorrow… we’ll look into finding someone for you to talk to. A real professional. Someone who gets it.”

Her hand trembled as she took his, but she nodded. “Okay.”

“And hey,” he added, grinning gently, “I’ll even buy you new shorts. Big ones. Cool ones. Maybe even pink.”

She laughed, wiping her eyes. “You’d wear pink.”

Chris smirked. “I own pink.”

Together, they stepped out into the heat — not fixed, but finally starting to face it.

And she wasn’t alone anymore.

⸻

[shipping-receiving]

On vulnerability in Love Scout

I’ve been seeing a few comments here and there asking what Jiyun “offers” to Eunho and what she can bring to their potential relationship, especially considering how much he does for her both materially and emotionally. While this is one method of determining if their relationship is truly balanced, I wonder if a straightforward measurement of give-and-take can effectively assess their dynamic, especially given their current employer-employee status. After all, since Eunho is Jiyun's secretary, so much of his caretaking can be seen as a natural extension of his job scope, although of course he has gone above and beyond professional expectations (and boundaries).

Jiyun can’t easily reciprocate Eunho’s acts of service within the limits of their (thus far) professional relationship – even if she is starting to do so by buying him food and coffee etc. On top of that, she is an inherently guarded person. It’s difficult to say what she can “offer” because she’s not in a position to offer anything besides his salary. It’s also much easier to see the value that he has added to her life because her struggles were emphasised from the start in very visible ways (messiness, insomnia, her trip to the hospital), while he seemed to live a very full life with Byeol.

Therefore, perhaps a better measure of their mutual compatibility and support is in the vulnerabilities that they allow themselves to show around each other – when they let themselves to be something other than the ‘perfection’ that they’ve defined for themselves. Again, it’s more obvious when Jiyun’s walls come down (expressing joy, letting herself be helped/comforted, falling asleep), because it is such a contrast to her stern, no-nonsense, ultra-professional demeanour. With Eunho, it’s not so clear, because his warmth and compassion can easily be mistaken for openness. Yet his pleasantness can also be a shield; a way to deflect uncomfortable feelings by minimising himself for the well-being of others. The most obvious example of this is when he maintains his amiability even in the face of outright mistreatment from his former boss. But it’s also in how he defaults to being the pillar of strength and the ‘fixer’ in social situations. 

In fact, almost all of Eunho’s true moments of vulnerability and honesty have come only in Jiyun’s presence. First, and more circumstantially, the frustration and anger at her for trying to poach the developer in Episode 1, and his desperation to keep his new job as her secretary in Episode 2. Then, more purposefully, when he tells her about why he took paternal leave; the challenges of his previous job; the fact that he was orphaned at a young age; his worries about fatherhood. These are not the only times he’s discussed his anxieties with another character – he did so with his ex-colleague when he was in danger of losing his first job, and with Suhyeon when Jiyun was still being difficult – but both of those times, he was also binging something sugary as a coping mechanism, and speaking in generalities with a tone of resigned acceptance. He’s simply not in the habit of showing so much of himself (i.e. his ‘imperfections’) to another person; even his beloved senior/Mi-ae’s husband doesn’t know why he got divorced.

Of course, everything he has revealed to Jiyun has been in response to her very direct questions. But I don’t think it’s just about that. As much as Jiyun can be a mess, she is also a very stable and confident person who is a good judge of the characters and motivations of others. That’s what makes her so good at speaking to both clients and targets, which Eunho himself has observed first-hand. Jiyun inspires trust and respect, which is (part of the reason) why he feels comfortable revealing the parts of himself that aren’t so ‘put-together’. Furthermore, he’s seen that she’s not incapable of the sincerity that he so readily offers to other people, even while being very rational and principled. This is not just Eunho “rubbing off on her” as Jiyun observes in herself in Episode 6. It’s just that her sincerity, which is a form of emotional vulnerability for her, has often only felt ‘safe’ to use as a strategy in appropriate professional situations.

Jiyun’s interactions with Byeol shed further light on the positive aspects of Jiyun’s personality. It would have been easy for her character to be written as cold or awkward around kids. Instead, there is a mutual respect between her and Byeol, with whom she’s not afraid to discuss more difficult personal topics (at least in an abstract sense). Jiyun treats Byeol like a fully-formed person with agency, takes genuine interest in her independent of any connection to Eunho, and is able to be supportive in her own way without pandering or patronising. It’s the very things that make Jiyun “cool” in Byeol’s eyes that gives us clues about what Eunho admires in her.

In a recent interview (a very cute one conducted by Ki So-yu, who plays Byeol), Han Jimin says that with Eunho in her life, Jiyun’s “sharp and prickly points have softened and become smoother”. Conversely, I think Jiyun is someone who gives Eunho room to show the roughness beneath his rounder, gentler exterior, which he otherwise takes such pains to smooth over.

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Imperfect Couple - 4

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: The couple's arguments could be triggering.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , Chapter 9 , Chapter 10 , Chapter 11 , Chapter 12 , Series Masterlist

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By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing on Kindle.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

As the door closed behind you, Bucky tried to ease the tension in the room. His hands gently held your shoulders as he guided you away from the heated encounter with Caroline, his voice a low murmur.

“You better fucking win the election, Bucky,” you spat, the anger simmering just beneath the surface.

“Alright, alright,” he responded, trying to soothe you with a calm tone, though his own nerves were frayed.

Your eyes narrowed as you took a step closer, your finger jabbing into his chest. “You’ve kidnapped me, drugged me, and dragged me into this mess,” you said, each word laced with frustration.

“I’ll play my part as the good and loving wife for the cameras, but you…” You paused, making sure your words hit him hard. “You better do your job too. Be my fucking husband and defend me from your mother!”

Bucky was taken aback, not just by your words but by the clarity with which you spoke, despite the fury burning within you. He was impressed—here you were, holding your ground even when the world seemed to be collapsing around you.

“Cause of death by in-law is rare,” you added, your voice dripping with dark humor. “I’d volunteer to add to the numbers.”

A small, almost reluctant smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I really like this humor. Unique,” he said, leaning in to place a soft kiss on your forehead. The gesture was meant to calm you, but there was something more behind it—a hint of admiration, maybe even respect.

Without another word, Bucky turned and walked back out, his mind already on the next confrontation—this time, with his mother.

Caroline was still seething, humiliated by how you had called out her feelings. She sat with a rigid posture, her face tense as Hazel carefully fixed her hair. Shawn, sensing the tension, silently poured whiskey into a glass and handed it to Julius.

“Put a leash on her,” Caroline spat at Bucky, her voice laced with anger.

Bucky sighed, frustration clear in his eyes. “Mother!”

His voice rose sharply, making everyone in the room flinch. “I want you to stop talking down to my wife.”

Caroline’s eyes narrowed. “You two aren’t exactly husband and wife.”

“Maybe not to you,” Bucky shot back, his tone cold and firm. “But to me, she’s the only woman in my life.”

Her expression hardened, but Bucky continued, undeterred. “And I’ve told you before—I won’t do this election without her.”

Caroline’s hands clenched into fists. “So you’re going to blame me now?” She massaged her temples as if warding off a headache. “Is this the thanks I get after helping you reach this position?”

Bucky’s eyes blazed with controlled fury. “We wouldn’t even be having this conversation if you hadn’t tried to separate us.”

Caroline’s thoughts churned. She hated you, her daughter-in-law, from the very beginning. She had always wanted Bucky to marry someone from their own social circle, someone who matched their status. Separating you two had been a victory for her, but Bucky’s refusal to remarry was an unexpected blow.

And now, the truth was unraveling—he had never sent the divorce papers to the court. He had blackmailed the attorney into silence. Not just you, but the entire family had been kept in the dark. Caroline had never imagined that her favorite child would deceive her like this.

Bucky stepped closer, his gaze steady. “I could’ve had a son or daughter by now. Nate could’ve had a cousin. It would’ve created the perfect image.”

Caroline’s eyes filled with dramatic tears as the weight of his words hit her. She had never anticipated this level of defiance from her son.

Bucky’s expression softened only slightly as he watched his mother’s tears fall. “Mother,” he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper, “stop with the crocodile tears.”

Caroline’s tears abruptly ceased, her eyes rolling in exasperation.

Bucky, before turning to leave, fixed her with a final, stern look. “If you want to see me win, stop poisoning us with your venomous words.” With that, he closed the door behind him.

As he stepped out, he noticed you leaning against the table, arms crossed and a knowing look on your face.

“You’re too late,” you remarked dryly. “But I appreciate the effort.”

Bucky let out a small, tired smile. “Anything for you, babe.”

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The car moved steadily along the dark streets, the soft hum of the engine the only sound between you and Bucky in the backseat. The city lights blurred outside as you stared out the window, your reflection barely visible against the glass.

“Are you angry?” you finally asked, your voice cutting through the heavy silence.

Bucky turned his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “For what?”

“For witnessing me fight with your mom,” you clarified, your voice tinged with a mix of frustration and uncertainty.

Bucky leaned back in his seat, his eyes briefly closing as if gathering his thoughts. “To make you feel better, I won’t blame you at all,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “She had it coming.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his response. “I’m so confused,” you admitted, your brow furrowing as you turned to face him. “What changed? You used to listen to her and do whatever she said without complaining.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, and he let out a long breath. “She’s the main reason why we separated.”

His words hung in the air, and you felt your heart clench. The man sitting next to you was different—more reflective, more burdened by the past. It was as if the Bucky you once knew had been buried under years of silence and unspoken pain.

“You caught me by surprise when you quickly signed the divorce papers,” Bucky continued, his voice tinged with regret. He ran a hand through his hair, the tension in his shoulders evident. “Back then, I took everything for granted. I was used to you being patient and supportive, no matter what.”

He paused, his eyes staring straight ahead, as if lost in a memory. “Having a mother like Caroline, who’s super ambitious, and a father like Julius, who’s quiet but just as driven—it’s exhausting. It drained me mentally. The only anchor I had in this world was you.”

His voice cracked slightly, and you saw his hand clench into a fist on his lap. “The second mistake I made was turning a blind eye and shutting my ears when it came to your feelings. As long as I provided for you, I thought you’d stay. But you didn’t.”

His words cut deep, and you felt a lump form in your throat. You had loved him so deeply, yet he had been so blind to your pain. You had been patient, supportive, always there for him, but in the end, it wasn’t enough. The loneliness you felt in the marriage, the constant pressure of living up to his family’s expectations, had finally broken you.

“You’re an idiot,” you muttered, looking away as your eyes stung with unshed tears. You turned your gaze back to the window, unable to face him.

Bucky chuckled softly, though the sound held no real amusement. He looked at you, his eyes tracing the curve of your profile, even though you refused to meet his gaze. You could hate him, kill him even, but at least you were here beside him. That was enough for now. He knew he could win you back—he had to, for his own sanity.

The upcoming election loomed over him like a dark cloud. Everyone knew that the Vice President was just a figurehead, an accessory to the real power, which was Steve. Bucky had this gut feeling they were going to win, that victory was within reach. But he also knew the price of that victory—he would have to stop thinking of himself and put the country first.

But before he lost the chance to be selfish, he was determined to use this time to get you back. He knew the methods he had used were wrong—manipulative and unfair.

But he needed you, desperately. The one thing you and Caroline had in common was persistence; once you made up your mind, no one could change it.

He had to try. Because losing you again wasn’t an option.

The car slowed as it approached your apartment building, and Bucky’s heart pounded in his chest. This was just the beginning—he knew that. But he was willing to do whatever it took, no matter how long it took, to win you back.

Even if it meant going to war with the one person he could never afford to lose.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The next morning, Greg arrived at the apartment, his nerves evident in the way he hesitated at the door. He took a deep breath before stepping inside, where he found Bucky already awake, sipping coffee by the window. Bucky's demeanor was calm, yet his eyes held a storm just beneath the surface.

Greg tried to ease the tension with a light question. "So, how are you and the missus?"

Bucky's expression was unreadable as he replied, "Hanging on the cliff. While she’s waiting for me to fall."

Greg cleared his throat, a chill running down his spine at Bucky’s ominous words. He couldn't help but think that this situation was far more precarious than he had imagined.

Just then, you emerged from your room, fully dressed and determined. Your eyes lit up when you saw Greg. "Oh great, you’re here. I want to talk to you."

Greg straightened up, ready to listen. You didn’t waste any time, your tone sharp and to the point. "Everyone's bored if we keep talking about politics. We need to show something relatable."

"People love candid moments," Greg offered, trying to gauge your reaction.

You nodded, appreciating the idea. "Exactly. We need to create moments that make us look more human, more like them. A small argument over breakfast, a shared laugh, anything that shows we’re not just politicians."

Bucky listened silently, his face impassive, but there was a flicker of approval in his eyes. He trusted you to handle this. You had a way of making people see what they wanted to see.

Greg, catching the subtle nod from Bucky, continued, "We could arrange some casual outings. Maybe a visit to a local diner, something low-key. Capture those moments and share them. It'll make people feel like they know you both personally."

Bucky finally spoke, his voice steady but with an edge of finality. "Whatever works. Just keep it natural. No over-the-top stunts."

You met Bucky’s gaze, a silent understanding passing between you. “We’ll make it work,” you said, confidence in your voice. “This will make people not just like us, but feel invested in us. They’ll want to see us succeed.”

Later, at the campaign headquarters, Steve approached Bucky, a rare smile on his face. “I’m impressed,” he admitted. “The way you and your wife have drawn the younger generation into this election—it’s brilliant.”

He never thought that you and Bucky could put your differences aside and make it work. From the outside, no one would know that the two of you had been separated for years. You both played the role of a married couple too well.

Bucky gave a slight nod, his eyes narrowing with the weight of the responsibility. “You can count on her.”

But the moment of pride was short-lived. Steve’s expression turned serious as he motioned for Bucky to follow him into his office. Once inside, Steve closed the door behind them. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

Bucky, sensing the shift in tone, asked, “Bad news?”

Steve hesitated, then sighed. “Well… kinda. My team found a comment online that mentioned the divorce between you and her.”

Bucky’s eyes widened in shock. “How? Nobody knew except you and me.” He had only told Steve about the divorce that was never finalized.

Now, only the Secret Service, Greg, and Steve knew, and they had all sworn to keep it a secret. His family and the Rogers couple wouldn’t reveal it because it would damage their image.

“Did the comment get deleted?” Bucky asked, his voice tight with concern.

“Oh yeah, for sure,” Steve reassured him. But then he paused, his voice dropping. “What if…?”

Bucky knew what he was hinting at and immediately dismissed the thought. “It can’t be her.”

Steve wasn’t so sure. “She thought she was divorced, traveling the world thinking she was single. She must have told someone.”

Bucky stayed quiet, his mind working through the possibilities. But outwardly, he remained calm. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and measured. “Well, if someone really knows, we’ll just have to wait. Sooner or later, that person will reveal themselves.”

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[bullet-prooflove]

I have no idea if this is correct based on the NSFW rumor post (so if it's not, I'm sorry!) but immediately I thought of Joe Velasco and Reader. I've got SVU on the brain atm due to my binging the whole show (can you believe there are some episodes I still haven't seen? It feels like a crime in itself) and I'm still in season 1, just finishing the episode that featured BDSM and other things. Anyways, I was thinking for the rumor, we know canon Joe is looking to make a connection with someone and how he would be most likely during a sexual encounter. But what if the rumor was that Joe liked things rough or had a kink or something like that?

Again, I'm sorry if I'm not doing this right or even if you would be interested, but I just figured I'd give it a shot. 😊

Tagging: @kmc1989 @plaidbooks @witches-unruly-heart @storiesofsvu @rosaliedepp

Babe don’t you worry! This is my first time doing it to so we will figure it out together or make our own shit up!

I have this seasons eps to watch and then I think I’m all caught up.

So here’s what I came up with regarding that rumour:

You’re getting coffee on your way into work when you hear the rumour about Joe. your phone chimes and you pull open your Bad Ass Bitchez chat you have with a few other women in the precinct and there it is sitting on your screen.

About how he likes to leave bruises on his conquests, that he tends to get a little rough.

You know where it’s coming from, the cousin of one of junior detectives had a couple of dates with him a few months ago but it didn’t go anywhere. She’d tried to start things up again recently after they’d run into each other at the gym but he’d told her he was seeing someone, that it was starting to get serious.

Your cousin has a history of making up stuff,  You type back into the chat. Maybe remind her she could be ruining a good cop’s career with those half-truths of hers.

There’s silence after that but you know you’ve made your point.

When you lay eyes on Joe sitting at his desk, you know he’s heard it. His head’s bowed, his shoulders slouched as he focuses on the report in front of him, trying to make himself as invisible as possible.

Your palm comes to rest on the nape of his neck, your thumb tracing a soothing circle underneath that sensitive spot just underneath his ear. He sighs at the sensation, his muscles relaxing as he tilts his head up towards you.

“It’s bullshit.” He informs you, meeting your gaze. “You know me, you know I can’t stand the thought of hurting someone like that…”

You do know that, because you know Joe, his history, the type of man he is. You’re the one he spends his nights with, the one he makes love to in the early mornings as the sun starts to filter through the blinds.

“Keep your chin up.” You murmur, your hand shifting to his shoulder squeezing lightly. “The truth will come out, I’ll make sure of it.”

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[multiheadcanons]

THE MERCS YOUTUBE ALGORITHMS

scout: lots of streamers and gamers. as he’s aged, and his youtubers of choice have either aged or been exposed as sex pests, he’s only got a few real youtubers he watches nowadays. recently, he’s been leaning towards video essays more than reactors or streamers. big watcher of moist critikal.

soldier: some gun reviews. a lot of army vloggers, and various workout videos. sometimes alpha male content will come up, and when he goes to watch it it confuses him. he’s not quite certain how money makes a man, but he knows he’s a man regardless, so whatever they’re peddling isn’t quite for his demographic. if he was slightly dumber, he would most certainly be tempted by the rage bait.

pyro: a lot of various asmr videos, in different situations and types. slime videos, quiet roleplay videos, hydraulic press videos, “eat with me” “cook with me” “_____ with me” videos. usually cutely themed, with soft spoken pretty girls on the videos. they just like the comfort given by a pretty girl who talks sweetly of shallow topics to them while they struggle to remember to wash their face every day.

demo: various jazz improvisations recorded at clubs, and stand up comedy specials. he also really enjoys nilered. demo’s is the most varied in the algorithm because he will just watch whatever shows up on the page that catches his eye. so it never knows what to show him. he doesn’t leave any form of response to what he likes or what he doesn’t, so sometimes the algorithm will also give him videos very far out of left field. odd alpha male things, four hour long “livestreams” of various tv shows.

heavy: educationally oriented. lots of documentaries on various subjects, two and a half to three hour long video essays about things he would genuinely never think about or consider. it’s one of his favorite ways to pass time and rot his brain. lots of bugs, and the studying of them, and getting bit or stung by them. it is truly insane to him that this stuff is just available at his fingertips. you mean he doesn’t have to wonder anymore what a bullet ant feels like? someone just— gets bit for him? he just has to watch the video and find out? that’s insane! hates ads. absolutely detests them.

engineer: you can go down the home page of his youtube and find the best how-to videos that you needed three years ago when you went through your mechanic stint. locating the serpentine belt. relocating an engine to the trunk of a vehicle. learning to measure a screw visually. the best work gloves for electrical problems. there’s a couple of gun reviews spattered here and there, but it’s a lot of maintenance and mechanics videos. youtube is like engie’a online encyclopedia that he can check and alter against his own knowledge.

medic: this man blew past youtube so fast and went straight to xvideos. untitled, or numbers and letters garbled together to make a title, and he’s exclusively fed backwater, no anesthesia organ removals and various hours-long surgeries done on unwilling participants, with soft classical overlayed on the video. he takes notes on how to make the process more… comfortable for more willing patients. sometimes he’ll binge watch dr. pimple popper when he wants something to watch during lunch.

sniper: snipes doesn’t really get on youtube unless he’s looking for something specific. his algorithm is random, and vague, and changes often because of the specificity of the videos he’s looking up. usually, it is various forms of dnd content and nature documentaries. and they normally kick him car ads. that genuinely upsets him every time he gets a car ad. when he’s ready for a new car, he will never buy from any brand that advertises to him, specifically. he takes notes. it’s a moral thing, at this point. he likes his camper. he doesn’t want a new car.

spy: it’s almost like an elementary school teacher’s youtube. a lot of aesthetic fireplaces with sound and gentle jazz, and every once in a while there’s an hour long video of true crime cold cases. he doesn’t watch them often, but they’re quite enjoyable when he does. he doesn’t think he can solve them, by any means, and a couple of them he knows he definitely killed. for those, he goes out of his way to plant evidence and frame someone else. then he watches the update videos of the murders being solved. it fills him with a sick sense of satisfaction that not only is the case closed, but he didn’t go down for it. nobody will know about this until well after he is dead and buried in the ground, and the true crime youtubers will explode in activity from the frenchman’s skeletons spilling from his closet.

[richarlotte]

Habits that led to weight loss?

I have a 40 oz Hydroflask that I use to get my gallon a day in. A gallon is 128 oz, so I focus on filling it and emptying it three times every day. 8-12, 12-4, and 4-8 are my goals, and I use a bit of sugar-free water flavoring to make it go down easier. I focus on making progress on my water before I treat myself to soda, matcha, alcohol, or anything sugary (like Starbucks or my beloved cranberry juice), and the effect drinking more water has made on my skin and on my hunger throughout the day has been completely remarkable. 

The elliptical machines at my gym are my favorites, and they have a variety of different programs loaded onto them. I used to start my day with an hour on the elliptical, but I’ve traded that in for a 30-minute preloaded elliptical workout and 30 minutes of light Pilates. I’ve started prioritizing peace and relaxation during my mornings, and intense workouts don’t fit into my current morning schedule, so I’ve let that go. 30 minutes of fun cardio and 30 minutes of Pilates is a perfect way to start my mornings off, and I save the heavier cardio for my afternoon/evening workouts.

I love flavorful food, and I love trying new food. One of the best hacks I learned was that filling up on vegetables, adding in meat/fish in appropriate amounts, and limiting the starches and breads was a game changer for me. For instance, I love Asian markets and think that the selection of different foods you can find there is amazing; one of my favorite meals is kimchi, bok choy, cabbage, and plenty of the roasted duck that the market near me sells. It’s high in protein, extremely flavorful, and leaves me satiated. Look for real food, learn how to cook, and take the time to learn how to create meals for yourself and sit down for them.

I participate in social activities centered around exercise. My sorority has a run club, a yoga club, a Pilates club, intramurals, and an exercise club. I think it’s incredibly important to have friends who also love moving their bodies and who want to exercise/who encourage you to be at your best, so I participate in almost everything. Join a run club, make a habit of walking with friends, take up a group sport if you want to meet people, try the classes at your gym, do dance classes at home with friends, get a cheap yoga mat and do Pilates in the park with your bestie, and make a habit of moving your body around other people. It’ll make you more confident, and having a partner is fun. 

I believe in single-serving desserts, and that’s that. I don’t buy myself desserts in bulk, I don’t buy huge pastries, and I don’t seek sugar out, but when I have a craving for something, I’ll walk to get it to satiate myself. I wanted ice cream the other day, so I got my Big and we went to Dairy Queen for a small vanilla cone. I don’t deny myself anything anymore, but I also control myself; I don’t consume in excess or let the fear of food control me, and I don’t make a habit of eating desserts or sweets every day. When I want something, I allow myself to have it so that I remove the possibility of breaking down and binging, I don’t punish myself, and I move on from the craving after I eat the food.

Richarlotte x