#second time posting this lets hope it works this time

[ms-demeanor]

I would like to add that the authors of the study provided a FAQ that says the following:

Is it safe to say that LLMs are, in essence, making us "dumber"? No.  Please do not use the words like “stupid”, “dumb”, “brainrot”, "harm", "damage",  and so on. It does a huge disservice to this work, as we did not use this vocabulary in the paper, especially if you are a journalist reporting on it.

and

Additional vocabulary to avoid using when talking about the paper In addition to the vocabulary from Question 1 in this FAQ - please avoid using "brain scans",  "LLMs make you stop thinking", "impact negatively", "brain damage", "terrifying findings". 

And I would like to point out that the twitter OP uses at least two of these terms, the Time story quoted in the middle of this post discusses "harms" that the study authors are not certain are harmful and that the tags are full of people saying that this is terrifying, horrifying, will rot people's brains, we're cooked, we told you so, etc, which are specifically things that the authors didn't want to have as the takeaway for the story.

I'd also like to note that the OP of the twitter thread is the COO of a company that sells AI assistants whose entire twitter presence is using AI-written threads about AI to generate social media traffic to drive to his AI sales company.

His takeaway from all of these, and the original thread on this post, is that people should use the AI *he* sells.

The MIT preprint is an interesting preliminary study that has suggestive findings about the way that habitual AI use changes users' behavior; it also had interesting points to make about how the search engine arm of the study was noticeably influenced by terms that had been promoted by google ads, and it recorded that people who used search engines had brain connectivity that was reduced compared to people writing only from their minds. But nobody is talking about the horrifying, harmful cognitive debt making us dumber caused by search engines (and they shouldn't be!)

The guy who is calling this cognitive atrophy is an AI shill who wants to use terms that the study's authors don't stand behind in order to make AI seem more powerful than it actually is. The study (and the Time article screencapped above) both note that the highest level of mental engagement was from people who had previously written essays with no assistance writing a final essay *with* AI assistance (so in that circumstance the use of AI strengthened cognitive response). To quote that article directly: "The second group, in contrast, performed well, exhibiting a significant increase in brain connectivity across all EEG frequency bands. This gives rise to the hope that AI, if used properly, could enhance learning as opposed to diminishing it."

So, basically what we've done here is let a 200-word AI summary of a 200+ page paper take the burden of cognitive load off our shoulders instead of taking the time to think critically about where we're getting our information from.

I continue to be less concerned about AI rotting our brains than I am about how infrequently people click through links on social media.

I'd recommend reading some of the study if you've got time. I found the ways that the English teachers and the AI used by the study differed in their analysis of the papers - because, please note, the authors of the study used LLMs for some of the data - really interesting.

[hhhwnr]

ꨄ Third time’s the charm — S.R

masterlist + navigation

genre: hurt/comfort, angst (with happy ending) word count: 1,7k

pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (established relationship)

warnings: none.

summary: Spencer’s always been good at showing up for the world. This time, he’s learning how to show up for you, and a third chance that you give him might be just enough.

author’s note: currently posting daily because I genuinely have nothing better to do. first time writing over 1,5k words, hehe. I am new to writing in tumblr format and in English, which isn't my first language, so please be kind. I will appreciate any input on how to improve my writing or other tips, but only in a respectful manner ! :)

You always knew it wouldn’t be easy.

Dating Spencer, that is.

You’d been friends long enough—met at a science conference three years ago, had long conversations about memory and metaphor over plastic coffee cups, and laughed over the mutual awkwardness of hotel mixers. The kind of friendship that came easy, like slipping into an old hoodie: warm, loose, no expectations. And maybe that’s why it lasted so long before either of you admitted there was something else simmering beneath the surface. Friends didn’t owe each other explanations. Friends didn’t have to arrange candlelit dinners or schedule around jet lag and crime scenes.

But love—love was more complicated. Love came with the hope of having someone there, and the quiet ache when they weren’t.

You knew what you were signing up for. You knew Spencer Reid was brilliant and kind and unlike anyone else you’d ever met. You also knew that the BAU didn’t exactly take holidays, not for anniversaries, not for birthdays, not even for Christmas. Still, you thought maybe—with enough time and care—you’d learn to live in the space between his absences.

You hadn’t seen him in three weeks. So when Spencer called to say he was back in D.C. and wanted to finally go on a proper date—just the two of you, no profile reports, no phone calls, no interruptions—you’d said yes without hesitating. You dressed up. Chose a restaurant with dim lighting and a soft jazz quartet in the corner. You smiled into your wine glass when he said you looked beautiful and teased him gently for overanalyzing the appetizer menu.

And then his phone rang. Not just a text. A call.

You saw it in his eyes before he even looked at the screen—the shift from soft to sharp. From yours to theirs.

“I’m so sorry, love,” he whispered, already pulling his wallet out, fumbling through apologies as he stood. “They need me to give an emergency lecture—someone dropped out, and it’s really time-sensitive—”

You nodded, of course. What else could you do? You kissed his cheek, wished him luck, and watched him walk out the door.

You didn’t cry, but you didn’t finish your meal either.

The second time, a week later, was supposed to be the redo. He made the reservation himself this time, texted you little updates throughout the day about how excited he was. It was raining when you met him, your umbrella half-broken and your coat damp from the metro. Still, he looked at you like you were a work of art. And for an hour, it really felt like you were getting your shot. You were halfway through telling him about a new project at work when his phone buzzed on the table.

You saw it again. That same shift. A case. Emergency flight.

He looked wrecked about it, eyes flicking over your face like he already knew he was letting you down. “I’m so sorry,” he said again. “I swear I didn’t know—if I don’t go—”

You stopped him before he spiraled. Smiled tightly. “It’s okay. I get it.”

But this time, you didn’t wait until the server returned. You gathered your bag, kissed him on the cheek like you were still okay, and left before the hollow feeling in your chest could settle in too deep.

Over the next week, you let the space grow.

You didn’t call as often. Left his texts on read longer than usual. When he tried to video call, you said you were busy. You didn’t bring up another date. You weren’t angry—just tired. Tired of trying to schedule time with someone whose life could be pulled away from you with one phone call. Tired of trying not to make him feel bad for something he couldn’t control. So you made it easier for both of you by stepping back.

Spencer noticed. Of course he did.

He noticed the shift in your voice over text—shorter replies, longer delays. The way you didn’t ask when he was coming back this time. The way your usual “goodnight” didn’t come with a heart emoji, or anything at all. It wasn’t dramatic, not even really pointed. But it was enough. It was enough to make him sit alone in his hotel room three nights into the case, phone resting in his palm, thumb hovering over your contact while he stared at the blinking cursor in the message box, unsure what to type. He’d rewritten the same sentence five different ways before giving up and pressing “call.”

He never liked making phone calls—never liked the way his voice could sound too eager or too nervous when it wasn’t in person. But silence? That was worse.

It rang twice before you picked up.

“Hey,” You sounded small. Tired in a way that didn’t come from sleep.

“Hi, love,” he breathed, sinking back against the headboard. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” you said. Your voice was quiet — quieter than usual. And cracked just barely at the end, like it had been recently worn thin. From crying, probably. He could tell. Spencer could always tell.

Still, he didn’t ask. Instead, he said, “I saw something today. In the bookstore near the precinct.”

You didn’t respond right away, but he waited. Eventually, your voice came, softer now. “What did you see?”

“They had a copy of The Little Prince. Original French edition.” His voice warmed a little. “It was worn, kind of falling apart. It reminded me of the copy on your shelf.”

That made you smile, just barely. He heard it. Or maybe imagined it. Either way, he kept going.

“I thought about buying it for you. But I wasn’t sure if it’d survive the flight.”

You didn’t answer for a second. Then, softly: “It’s the thought that counts.”

And there it was again — that sadness, thick between the syllables. He could feel it, even through the phone. The weight of all the things you weren’t saying. The heaviness in your throat that didn’t need a name. But he didn’t push. That wasn’t what you needed right now. You didn’t want to talk about why you hadn’t reached out, or how this second failed date in a row had taken the wind out of your hope.

So he told you about a bakery next to the station that made bread shaped like hedgehogs. About the cab driver who insisted on giving him a playlist of 80s jazz fusion. About how the team was tired, but safe, and how JJ had threatened to confiscate his sixth cup of coffee.

He talked gently, letting his voice fill the silence so you didn’t have to.

You didn’t say much. Just murmured in agreement here and there. But Spencer knew you were listening. And you knew that he was choosing every word with care — not to avoid the topic, but to love you without asking anything in return.

Eventually, you said, “I missed your voice.”

Spencer smiled into the receiver. “I missed yours too. A lot.”

Another pause. One of those full ones.

“I think I just need a little time,” you said finally. “Not away. Just… quiet.”

“I get it,” he said. And he did. He always did.

You both fell silent again. Not the heavy kind — this one was soft. Laced with understanding.

Before you hung up, he said, “That book in the window… I’ll see if I can get it shipped. I think it’d be nice on your shelf.”

And you whispered, “Thank you,” like it meant more than he’d ever know.

He didn’t need you to say more. He already knew.

When you turned the key in the lock and tiredly kicked the door of your apartment open, you didn’t expect him to come back early. You didn’t expect to walk into your apartment and find the lights dimmed low, the smell of your favorite takeout wafting from the coffee table, and Spencer sitting on your couch surrounded by a small army of snacks, two soft blankets, and three carefully stacked DVD options: The Princess Bride, Arrival, and Dead Poets Society.

When he heard your keys jingle, he rushed from the couch to wrap his arms around you tightly — warm, steady, and there.

“Surprise,” he whispered into your ear, his voice soft enough to make your knees tremble a little. He held you for a second longer than necessary, like he was making sure you wouldn’t vanish.

You blinked, caught between a breathless laugh and a lump in your throat. “What… is all this?”

Spencer pulled back only enough to look at you, hands still resting gently on your arms. “I figured if restaurants are cursed, maybe the third time’s the charm.” He smiled, a little sheepishly. “I wanted to make it up to you. I know I haven’t been here… really been here, and I hate that. I hate letting you down.”

You opened your mouth, but the words didn’t come. Your chest ached with too many emotions trying to surface at once. He reached behind the couch and retrieved a small paper bag. Inside were two of your favorite chocolate bars and a tiny potted plant — slightly crooked, clearly picked out with care. A label stuck out from the soil, handwritten and slanted “Date Night Survivor #3.”

Your throat clenched.

“I know it’s not exactly candlelight and violins,” he added, voice lower now. “But it’s what I’ve got. And I did it because… you deserve someone who shows up. And I want to be that person. Even if I have to keep trying until I get it right.”

Tears rolled down your cheeks before you could stop them — quiet, unannounced, like your body had decided it was safe now to finally let go. Spencer noticed. Of course he did. His eyes flicked briefly to the glint of moisture on your skin, but he didn’t say a word. He just reached for your hand and pulled you in again, gently, resting his forehead against yours.

“Come sit,” he whispered, like you were something precious, breakable, and not already breaking. “Food’s still warm.”

And just like that, the ache inside you softened. It didn’t vanish, but it eased. Because he was here. Because he tried. Because this — all of this — meant something.

It felt like breathing again. Like maybe love wasn’t about perfect plans or unbroken promises—but about choosing each other, over and over again, even when the world gets in the way.

Thank you for reading ♥︎

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

June 18th

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1. I'm looking for a fic where wwx lied about not being a virgin anymore and jin zixuan asked him who did he have sex with and wwx said lz, but jzx was skeptical and didn't believe him so wwx made a deal that if he somehow proved he and lz are together sleeping w/ each other then jzx will give him money, then wwx go to lz room which is coincidentally the one next to jzx's and ask him to fake having sex with him but ofc lz refuses then wwx starts making fake sexual noises yk and banging the bed headboard on the wall, jzx was startled and shocked with disbelief but later he admit defeat and give wwx the money,

FOUND? caught in the sugar by occultings (microcomets) (E, 13k, WangXian, Modern, Fake/Pretend Relationship, fake FWB, Workplace Retreats, Drinking Games, Humor, some blink-and-miss-it wwx-flavored comphet during the sex scene, LWJ dicking WWX down so hard he sees shrimp colors, as per usual, the hero’s journey to answer the call of being a bottom, Barebacking, First Time)

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2. hii im looking for the fic where lwj uses emojis that have double meanings and wwx thinks that he's doing it without knowing. except lwj DOES know what he's doing and is sending those emoji combos on purpose @f1sh1ng4gl0ry

FOUND? Lan Zhan doesn't know how to use emojis by QueenofThyme (M, 7k, WangXian, emojis, Texting, Epistolary, Innuendo, Eggplant Emoji, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Idiots in Love, Artist WWX, Modern AU)

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3. I’m looking for a fic Modern setting lwj gets a call about a -yuan not being able to stop crying I think it was bc he asked something in mandarin but despite what he wanted being obv the teacher would not let him unless he spoke English or smth like that wwx is a teacher and speaks mandarin and a-yuan gets moved to his class @zerokogane

FOUND? 🔒 A New Term by jiejieaini (E, 21k, WangXian, Modern, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, LWJ is best dad, Bunnies, London, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Adopted WWX, Fluff and Angst, Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Reunions, Hand Jobs, Tears, Gay Sex)

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4. hi I'm looking for fan fic i read in oa3, it's about wei ying being possessed by himself in yunmeng, the weiying in the sunshot campaign time and trying to kill wei ying in the body of mo xuanyu. this happens after the canon events in the novel. wei ying even adopted another son besides ayuan, please help meeeee

FOUND? 🔒 Twelve Moons and a Fortnight by stiltonbasket (M, 290k, WangXian, Post-Canon Fix-It, Love Letters, Family Feels, ft. the yunmeng bros being bros, and the junior ducklings being precious, a-qing lives, Romantic Comedy, Case Fic, Politics, gratuitious social reform, as expected when wwx is left in charge of a government without supervision, Yunmeng Jiang Sect, Slow Burn, the burn is very fast actually wwx is just clueless, (slaps fic) this bad boy can fit so much worldbuilding in it, Sect Leader WWX, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Happy Ending, Russian Translation Available, [podfic] Twelve Moons and a Fortnight by stiltonbasket by daisydiversions)

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5. Hi again, thanks for your hard work. Hope it isn't a bother to ask for a resubmission of my earlier request to see if anyone can recognise the fics. A) So there are two fics that I haven't been able to find. The first one was a case fic of some kind where wx were with a bunch of junior lans. There was a scene where they started making out on a table (i think it was their first kiss, like a post-canon get together) and jiang cheng, who has come to help, walks in on them. Cue yunmeng bros squaking. B) The second was also wangxian post-canon. I can only remember one scene where Jin Ling bursts into Jiang Cheng's room and triggers a ptsd response from the sunshot campaign. JC then scolds JL for startling people who had been in a war. I'm not sure if wx were background or not. Thanks in advance!! @lunaloup

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6. hiya! i’m trying to find a specific fic where jin ling is WWXs biological child because JY and JZ couldn’t have children. thank you in advance! @the-kings-of-henrietta

FOUND? Coming of Age of Jin RuLan by gayatridoes (G, 3k, JYL/JZX, WangXian, Miscarriage, Mpreg, Alternate Universe, Heavy Angst)

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7. Hi! I'm hoping you could help me find a fic that i've been looking for for a few days. I think it was on ao3, and in this fic wwx has an idea to help the lans with the waterborne abyss, but only tels lwj thinking it won't be taken seriously. Only lwj does take it serious and they end up using a yin lure flag (or some variation) to lead the waterborne abyss to some lake where the lans can take care of it without causing to much trouble for the people of Caiyi. I can very clearly remember lwj helping wwx look at maps to figure out in which lake the waterborne abyss could be handled easily and how they could get it there, but I don't remember much else. Thanks!!! @m4rieke

FOUND! SanRen by Kyogre (T, 87k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Different First Meeting, Romantic Fluff, Action & Romance, Eventual Happy Ending)

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8. Hello, i am searching a fic it was in spanish and on wattpad. Story : Jiang cheng owns a coffee shop where he gets kidnapped by wen chao. Lan xichen is the husband of JC and he is a judge. Lan wanji is a lwayer and wei ying is a detective that put most of the bad wens is prison. wen chao was on the run, it was supposed to be jin ling that got kidnapped but instead they took JC where they tortured him. I think when i translated it the title was something like 'jiujiu isn't there' but i can't find @jiangcheng1709

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9. Hey,

I'm not sure if it is one or two fics.

I think it is a time travel fic.

The first scene I remember is that SS dies during the Waterborn abyss scene which LZ (?) regrets because it makes his brother cry (?). At the same time he says to himself that SS need to die but he regrets that he gave his brother this burden or something like this.

The second scene is LZ who organizes a punishment for JC, NHS and other people who broke rules except WY. He met WY earlier in the night and sent him to his room. LZ gave him his robe (?) and in the next morning WY woke up and run to the punishment room only wearing this robe to save JC. He talked with LZ to punish him instead JC but LZ said something like he would never punish WY.

Later LZ fights with his uncle because he never punishes the sects heir and mostly WWX.

I think the fic was a wip.

Thank you in advance!

FOUND? All The Words I Never Got To Say by Lost_Stories (M, 85k, JGY/NHS, WangXian, LXC/NMJ, LWJ & NHS, WIP, Fix-It of Sorts, Not Everyone Dies, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, NHS just can't catch a damn break, Time Travel Fix-It, canonical character deaths ARE still present (but will not include wwx), Golden Core Transfer, Golden Core Reveal, NHS Character Study, Angst with a Happy Ending, I am so sorry lotus pier still falls, NHS and NMJ's moms are in a poly type relationship with their dad I know that's not canon don't @ me, DW JGS will kick the bucket, I just didn't want to give him the satisfaction of being a 'major character', Introspection, Morally grey main character, mild whump, NHS has trauma and this is me making him work through it, rating is for some swearing and violence, the occasional dead body and demonic cultivation, Ruthless NHS, POV NHS, Scheming NHS, NHS-centric, some mild torture it would seem) fits the first part of the request (except the time traveler is NHS not LWJ) but not the second part.

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10. Hello, I'm looking for a fic from modern college settings. Lan wangji joins college same as lan xichen. However lxc, meng yao, su she, wen chao and wei ying take advantage of lwj. Lwj is kind of innocent. I'm not sure if the fic was in English or other language but I'm sure it is ongoing. Not yet completed.. Do u know the name of the fic?? Thanks for your help in advance. No worries if you don't know.

#10 is a fic that is deleted I believe

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11. Hello! was looking for a fic which begins with lwj performing clarity to calm spirits in the jingshi, while he is doing this he comes in contact with spirit wwx (they have not met and do not know each other) who was a rogue cultivator and died young I think? anyway lwj tries to find out why spirit wwx is unable to rest in peace and is still in this world.

I remember this one particular scene where lwj defeats the tortoise of slaughter with the help of spirit wwx, and later on in the fic wwx's spirit dissipates but it has a happy ending cuz he comes back. please and thank you!! @ilikebredandstars

FOUND? asymptotic by chinxe (T, 26k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Misunderstandings, Pining, for 20+ years as per the course with lwj, Mojo’s post)

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12. Ok, I’ve looked under every description I can think of, and I think it might have gotten deleted. Even so I’d still like to find it. What I remember is Wei Ying and Lan Xhan are both kids again. Wwx decides he’s done with the Cultivation Sects and gets himself adopted by a farmer in Yiling. Lwj doesn’t talk to any of the Lans and sticks around to get his sword and summon the ghost of his mother then dips. He eventually finds Wwx and they get together and stick around Wwx new family. @marmaladeshinigami

FOUND? 12 sounds like “Chosen Family by SplitGirl28” but unfortunately has been deleted by the author on AO3

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13. Hello I was looking for this time travel fix it fic, where lwj and wwx both travel back into the past in their younger bodies. Lan Qiren leaves the class for a few minutes and comes back to find wei wuxian and lwj kissing passionately. I think it was a WIP. please and thank you :D. @ilikebredandstars

FOUND? trouble with time by cloudpd (T, 5k, WangXian, Time Travel, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, POV Outsider, Humor, POV JC, he’s so fed up with wangxian, rightfully so, wangxian are shameless, kind of crack, JC’s inner dialogue for this whole fic is just: what the fuck, POV LXC, because LXC deserves to be subjected to gross wangxian as well!!, the third chapter is LJY going “WWX rights!!”, and that’s all im going to say about that, horny wangxian time travel: the thrilling conclusion) matches for the description in everything except that it's a completed fic.

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14. Hi! I would like to find fic where LZ breaks up with WWX because of LQR. WWX’s mental health goes much more worse and he has nightmares due to his ex boyfriend XY. Finally he lays in the bath and drinks alcohol and calls LZ and he calls ambulance and then they make up

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15. Ahoy, first time needing help finding a fic, kinda nervous🫦

I'm desperately looking for a Yunmeng bros reconciliation fic that was written from JC's POV. Iirc it was post-(novel?) canon and WWX and LWJ were already married, there were some sect politics and WWX and JC slowly grew closer again because they both care for JL. It had some angst but no smut as far as I know.

Ik this isn't the most detailed description but I thought I had it bookmarked and it isn't there😭  I even tried to go through my entire history but I never cleared that and it's LONG so no luck. Is there maybe anyone who knows what fic I'm talking about? 💔

Thank you guys for your hard work and maintaining this account! Sending love! @jorolle

FOUND? 🔒 before you stumble by ribena (T, 9k, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Case Fic, Yunmeng Shuangjie, Reconciliation, Fix-It)

FOUND? Reeds in the Wind by merakily (T, 26k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Yunmeng bros Reconciliation, Rabbit Therapy, Sewing Therapy, PTSD, Emotional Baggage, Hurt/Comfort, JC is Bad at Feelings, JC Needs a Hug)

FOUND? everyone else is spring bound by Lise (T, 18k, WangXian, JC & JL, JC & WWX, JC & LWJ, Post-Canon, Post-Finale, Dysfunctional Family, Family Bonding, JC & WWX Reconciliation, JC Needs a Hug, or a nap really, POV JC, Brothers, Family Feels, Light Angst, jc has a lot of feelings and doesn't know how to deal with that: the fic, Reconciliation, Awkward Conversations, Everyone Is Doing Their Best) although Wei Ying and Lan Zhan aren't married in this one

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16. I have looked all through my bookmarks history and hope this was not deleted! Wei Ying a d Lan Zhan married when they were young. After Lan Zhan was hurt in an accident, Lan Qiren forced a divorce. Years later, Wei Ying (who is a mechanic and owns a garage) sees LZ at a wedding with Mo Xuanyu (think it’s Mianmian’s or Yanli’s wedding). LZ starts showing up at the garage with his fancy car, at the photo shoot for WY’s charity calendar (shirtless). Mo Xuanyu comes by to threaten WY. LZ and WY get back together. Thank you si much for any help! @cschistory

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17. Hi! I was pointed in your direction so it would be amazing if you could help me :D

I read a Wangxian fic on AO3 a few years ago b ur I haven’t been able to find it since.

It was essentially a retelling of events from the novel entirely from LWJ’s POV (3rd person).

Had a lot of pining and angst in it. From what I can remember, these events definitely happened:

The Wen Archery Tournament: where LWJ talks about wanting to see WWX again but then thinks WWX doesn’t remember who he is.

LWJ getting drunk because he thinks that maybe if he loses his inhibitions a bit he can express himself better

The aftermath of the inn scene which is very angsty and then meeting Fairy who taps out that WWX is at Guanyin Temple.

Guanyin Temple

There’s definitely others but it’s been a long time since I read it and this is the most I can remember.

It had an angst with a happy ending vibe if memory serves me correctly. It would be amazing if you can help me track this down I wish I could reread it.

During the interval period of Wei Ying’s death, LWJ is at Carp Tower (now run by JGY) and gets hit on by a male acrobatic performer. He’s almost into it before noting he might have been drugged by something and rejecting the guy. He then worries that someone might have discovered a collection of his stuff that would reveal he’s gay.

Later on in the story after WWX’s resurrection and the reveal that JGY stole from the Lan Secret Library, he mentions the incident to Zewu-jun and asks if he noted anything weird about what he drank at the Carp Tower implying JGY might have drugged Zewu-Jun at the same event.

Zewu-jun says something along the lines of “he wouldn’t do that”.

Thank you! @danmeidiaries

FOUND? 🔒 The Price of Old Wishes by SoManyJacks (E, 67k, WangXian, Minor canon divergence, Angst, POV LWJ, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, semi-verbal!LWJ, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Suicide) I don't remember the events of the fic exactly well enough to confirm if all the events listed in the ask are present, but it might be this one

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18. Hi! For the longest time now, I’ve been looking for a fic where Lan Wangji comes to Loted Pear, I think it’s set afrer the cloud recesses study arc, the were both still quite young. They were sparring, Wei Ying was trying to show Lan Zhan all pf the Lotus Pear and how to have fun there. (I remember one part where Wei Ying and Lan Zahn went swimming in the lake with other boys, and Lan Zhan then felf quite conflicted because of his sexuality.) But that’s all I remeber.:/ I would be also grateful for *any* recommendations about fics where Lan Zhan visited Wei Ying in the Lotus Pier:) I think it’s such a cute concept @fruity-mango

FOUND? Wei Laoshi, Poonslayer by FeelsForBreakfast (E, 6k, WangXian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, POV LWJ, straight boy WWX, Loss of Virginity, Getting Together, [Podfic] Wei Laoshi, Poonslayer by PandaReads (DrPanda99))

FOUND? Forgetting Envies and Fleeing Questions by marikazz (T, 7k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, No Sunshot Campaign, Repressed, LWJ, Song: Wangxian, Fluff, Swordfighting, the homoerotic kind, Love Confessions, Confessions, Flirting, Getting Together, Pining, Humor, POV LWJ)

FOUND? sweet chaos by eachandeverydimension (G, 86k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Canon Divergence, Fluff, Romance, Light Angst, Falling In Love, Different First Meeting, Qīnghéng-jūn’s A+ Parenting, Night Hunts, Chinese Language, Good Sibling LXC, Good Sibling JYL, POV LWJ, Getting Together, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Chinese Culture, Slow Burn, No Homophobia AU)

🔒 The Water's Right, It's Sinking In by GravityWinsAgain (T, 9k, WangXian, Fluff and Angst, but the angst is all in LWJ's head, seriously nothing outside of his own internalized panic is happening, LWJ visits lotus pier, And has a breakdown about it, Canon Divergence, No Sunshot Campaign, da-shixiong WWX, Repressed LWJ, But they figure it out in the end, Happy Ending, LWJ has emotions and is not pleased, Location: Lotus Pier) not the fic they were looking for but more lwj visits lotus pier things

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19. Hi! I have a fic finder request, please. It is a modern au where WWX is a vlogger who makes idyllic vlogs about life in the Chinese countryside. LWJ is a famous classical musician who takes a vacation in WWX's village and they grow close. I think fans recognize LWJ in WWX's vlog. At one point a little kid from the village goes missing and they all search to find her. I remember reading this 2-3 years ago, I think it was quite popular back then. Thank you for any leads to what this might be!

FOUND!🔒🧡 【那夏天的我們】 a stroke of fate by puddingcatbeans (G, 59k, WangXian, Modern AU, Fluff, Slice of Life, Falling In Love, Summer, Barakamon AU, renowned musician lwj escapes to tiny village and falls in love with local farmer boy wwx, good times only, YouTuber WWX, Food)

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20. Hi!! I hope you are doing well! I can't seem to find this fic where lan wangji is older amd a teacher at cloud recess when wei wuxian and the Jiang sect come to study. Over the course of time, he kind of realizes the genius that wei wuxian really is and the miss treatment that he is getting at the Jiang sect. It somewhat follows the original Mo dao zu shi script but there is a lot of Jiang cheng Bashing that happens through out the fic. Also there is a part where WY has to drink demon blood to maintain control over his demonic cultivation and he dosent do that and faints. Sorry if it's a little vague but these were the only specifics I could remember. If I remember correctly it was a discontinued fic last I read it.

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[omgfangirlland]

How do you think it would go if let's say.. Before joker became a joker.. He had a wife and that wife is reader. She was always there for joker until joker just ghosted her or something when he started to go crazy. Later on, reader meets Bruce and they somehow fall in love (reader has that Mary Sue rizz).

-🔱

Sorry I haven't posted a drabble in a hot minute-

Fallout 3 is an addictive thing, and I should have known better than to believe the father would stay alive, considering I finished Fallout 4 a year ago...

ANYWAY- bit of timeline shenanigans cuz I'm like 90% sure Jack falling into the vat of acid happened long before Dick Grayson, but for my plot it's during-

CW: yandere/stalker bruce

You knew something was wrong as soon as Jack didn't come home. Sure, sometimes he'd be late, but you'd always wake up with the man suffocating you with the clingy way he'd wrap his arms around you, holding you so tight- like he was afraid to lose you.

That was eight years ago. One year ago, Jack Nappier was declared dead, and you were left a widow with an empty grave to mourn over. The police, eight years ago, didn't even want to believe you, just brushed it off as the man being drunk in a ditch- not unlike the other married men in Park Row.

But you knew your Jack. So you fought on it, you fought until someone would listen, and Gordon did- promised you up and down that he'll do everything to find your husband- and then, a month in, he... changed. The man looked guilty as he told you he didn't have any updates, and before you could ask anything further, he scurried away.

You never trusted the police, no one living in Crime Alley does. Gordon was the nail in the coffin that sealed that belief forever.

They would have declared him dead on day one if they could have, but they had to wait seven years, and with those seven years up, the papers were drawn and signed, and Gordon paid for the funeral before anyone else could, before Bruce could.

You hated it.

And your Jack would have hated it too. He wanted to be cremated, his ashes to be turned into "one of them fake sparkly stones" so you could always have a piece of him.

You had to move on with your life, whether Jack left you and ran away with someone else or is actually dead, both were painful options. You got your degree one year after his disappearance and started teaching a few months later.

You... don't know what possessed you to do this- to jump from your window, on the fucking Batman of all people, just so Jason, a kid you've known since he was five, could run away before the bat started swinging.

Yeah, it didn't work out the way you hoped.

"You jumped out from the third-"

"Second."

Batman's eye twitches as he takes in a breath, rubbing at the bridge of his nose as you sit where he plopped you, the hood of the batmobile. "-Second. Floor, on my back, just because you thought I would hit a child?" Bruce ignored how Jason kept swinging the tire iron at his padded knee.

"... Yeah..." You shrugged. Jason gave up after two more swings, huffing and whining with exhaustion. "What even are you?!"

"Is he your kid?"

While the question made you stumble over your words, Jason was quick to yell a yes- and he wasn't lying in his mind, you were more of a mother than his ever was. "Don't you dare touch her- you- you- big b-"

As Jason tried to swing again, this time aiming for the bat's balls, Bruce was quick in grabbing the tire iron from the boy. "Aww..." Jason pouted.

Bruce knew the boy wasn't your son. He knew, because for eight years or so, he's been your shadow, not your stalker, shadow. There was a difference- he was protecting you, making up for what he's done to your ex-husband.

He may have slipped a few times, loomed too close, slipped into your room as you slept- just to make sure you're still breathing! And, well, if he took a thing or two, he always returned them- he tried to, anyway.

This was fine- not the part of you jumping so recklessly out of a window- but the opportunity of actually talking to you. It wasn't for long, but he was willing to play the long game.

It was fruitful, slow, but it got him what he wanted.

It started with Jason, initially he wanted to just send the boy to a troubled youth school, but seeing how close he was to you, and how dedicated he was, Bruce may have manipulated him a bit.

"You do want to keep her safe, right? You can't do that without training."

Jason was the one who took it as him being the next Robin, and Bruce didn't correct him, and when the time came, he sure as hell didn't stop him from modifying the costume to his liking. The boy deserves it after helping Bruce so much with you.

"Batman's really nice, could be a really cool boyfriend-"

It was childish, but you couldn't help but smile at Jason trying to play matchmaker. You knew he was the new Robin, it was hard not to when the first thing he did was crawl like a wet cat through your window to proudly show his costume off while acting like he didn't know you.

Granted, it worked.

Bruce first kissed you while he was bleeding on your couch, Jason napping away on your bed, that's also when you found out who Batman was.

"I want you to know. I want you to be in my life, every side of it."

He had whispered, and you just kissed him again. The next day, Bruce Wayne took you out on a date, by next week every tabloid had you two on the front page, and by next year, you were living in the Manor, nagging Dick and Jason to not leave everything to Alfred, and helping him every night with soft kisses and softer hands.

He wasn't scared you'd find out. He made sure you wouldn't. But if you did, that would be okay. Bruce won't let you go, no matter how hard you fight.

When Joker came back after being missing for two years, creating a ruckus left and right, Bruce made sure to play his cards right- first, the soft, off-hand comment that you should just stay home, work remotely, or just not at all. The chains were placed.

Then, bringing a worried Richard into it. "I just don't want to lose you like- like-" And the tearful face of Dick locked the chains. But what tightened them was Jason's whispered plea. "Please, ma, any one of our enemies could snatch you on the way home- I don't want to see you hurt like that."

But Bruce should have been more focused on Joker. He let him slip through the cracks, led the clown right to you with every loving outing, with every tabloid picture.

Jack won't have it. You were his before- you'll love him as Joker too.

[mrsvante]

Terms of Surrender

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: idol au, established relationship, pfp (kinda)

summary: he always left a piece of himself behind when he went away. now he’s trying to remember where he put it. a slow burning love letter to quiet homes, messy reunions, half eaten cake, and the way someone’s touch can make a tired soul feel whole again.

warnings: military discharge, emotional vulnerability, fingering, oral f!receiving, light edging, praise kink, yoongi calls you a good girl 🫠, swearing, teeth rottingly tender intimacy, clingy yoongi, post service identity crisis, minor angst with comfort, domestic fluff, one deeply judgmental dog named holly

word count: 4,907

a word from our sponsors 💁🏽‍♀️: i know these drabbles have been pretty much pfp but i got a little emotional with yoongi because we made it!! they’re all finally home & whole. how could i not get emotional?! ughhhh it feels so surreal to know ot7 is back 🥹 anyway, enough of me blabbering..hope you enjoy!

Yoongi slouched deeper into the backseat of the cab, his head tipped against the cool glass of the window as the late June sun painted long shadows over the city. Seoul hadn’t changed much. Same humming traffic. Same old buildings with half lit signs.

But somehow it all felt a little different today, like the world had edged forward a few paces without him and now he was just catching up.

The driver didn’t say much, which he appreciated. He wasn’t in the mood to talk.

His shoulder ached, an old reminder stitched into the muscle. He rolled it slowly, grateful it hadn’t flared up during the last few months. He’d been careful, pacing himself. Desk work had its own kind of strain, though. Different from physical labor. More like being filed down from the inside out, every second smoothed into the next until time itself lost its sharpness.

Twenty one months. It was a long time to be out of the rhythm of everything.

But he was going home now.

The cab pulled into the underground lot beneath his apartment complex. Yoongi paid, murmured a soft thank you, and stepped out, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. His fingers tapped over the security pad and the door buzzed open, welcoming him into silence.

The elevator ride was short.

He input the house code into the door, and the smell hit him first.

Takeout. Sweet and salty. Something you knew he liked.

Then your voice.

“~Congratulations, our beloved Yoongi~”

You sang in an absurdly high pitched voice, standing in the middle of the dining room in fuzzy socks, his old sweatshirt, and some too tiny shorts that clung to your ass like a second skin. A small cake sat on the table beside a bottle of Glenfiddich and a cluster of takeout boxes.

Yoongi blinked.

You ran over to him, grabbing his hand before he could even take off his shoes, dragging him into the middle of the room.

“Dance with me,” you demanded, swaying your hips in exaggerated circles, clearly trying to make him laugh.

“I literally just got discharged—”

“Exactly. So you don’t have any excuses.”

He rolled his eyes but let you spin him around once. Then twice. You clapped like it was the best performance of his career and leaned in to kiss his cheek with a loud, theatrical mwah.

Yoongi’s mouth twitched into a ghost of a smile.

You cut the cake and plated a slice. Soft, homemade lilac frosting smudged along the edge. You were beaming as you scooped up a bite for him with your fork.

“Open.”

“I’m not a dog, aegi.”

You tilted your head and arched a brow. “Wanna bet?”

Still, he opened his mouth and let you feed him. The cake was good. Moist and sweet, but not too sweet.

He was tired. Fucking exhausted, actually.

But his heart, his heart had never felt this full.

You nudged his side gently. “You look more dead now than you did on your last day of basic.”

Yoongi groaned, head tipping back. “Because basic was body hell. This was soul death. There’s a difference.”

You giggled. “So… filing paperwork was harder than running ten kilometers with a loaded pack?”

“Absolutely. You ever been stuck with a malfunctioning printer and an angry office ajumma on your ass for six straight hours?”

You leaned into him, resting your head on his chest. “Guess I’ll just have to nurse you back to health.”

“You’re already doing a pretty good job,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your hair.

Later that night, the cake was half eaten, the whiskey two fingers lower, and the takeout boxes stacked haphazardly on the counter. The lights were dimmed, the room washed in the soft glow of the TV as the drama played on the screen.

You sat curled against Yoongi on the couch, legs tangled with his, one of your hands absently tracing the inside seam of his sweatpants. Holly was nestled comfortably by Yoongi’s feet, occasionally twitching in his sleep as if chasing something.

Yoongi’s arm rested around your shoulders, fingers playing with the end of your sleeve.

The silence had long settled into something easy. He hadn’t said much since dinner, but you didn’t mind. That was just him. He was always more of a slow pour—thoughts aged like wine, shared only when ready.

The main couple on screen kissed under a lamppost. The music swelled dramatically and you snorted.

“They’ve known each other for like four episodes.”

Yoongi gave a soft, amused breath through his nose. “That’s two more than some people get.”

A comfortable beat passed. Then he spoke again, quieter this time.

“I missed this.”

You turned your head slightly against his chest, your ear catching the soft thump of his heart beneath his shirt.

“Missed what?”

He didn’t answer right away. His fingers stilled against your sleeve.

“This,” he repeated, gaze fixed somewhere past the TV. “Normal things. You. Even Holly’s stubborn little attitude.”

You smiled, glancing down at the tiny dog in question. “He’s been moodier than usual with you being so regimented lately.”

“Yeah, well,” Yoongi exhaled slowly, “I’ve been moodier than usual without you.”

You lifted your head to look at him fully, but his eyes were still on the screen, though it was obvious he wasn’t really seeing it. There was a distant kind of sheen in his expression. Like he was still partially somewhere else.

He finally glanced at you, the corners of his mouth tugging faintly. “I think I forgot how to sit still for a while. Everything about that place… the rhythm, the silence, it’s different. Not bad, just…” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Sterile. Like life paused and I was watching it through a window. The days bled together. Same halls. Same faces. Same tired conversations.”

You reached up, brushing your fingers along the edge of his jaw. He leaned into it a little.

“But now it’s over,” you said gently.

“Almost,” he replied. “Still doesn’t feel real. I’ve been fantasizing about laying on this couch for months without forcing myself to stick to a bedtime. About your cheesy dramas. About Holly hogging all the foot space.” He nudged the dog lightly with his toe. “But the moment I stepped through the door, it felt like no time had passed and also like a lifetime had gone by.”

He paused. His voice dropped just slightly.

“I’m nervous.”

That surprised you a little. You sat up straighter.

“About?”

“Coming back.” He didn’t mean the apartment. “About being with the guys again. Being BTS again. It’s stupid—I’ve done this my whole adult life. But it’s like… what if the music feels different? What if I feel different?”

You softened, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “You are different. That doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing.”

“I know.” His eyes flicked down. “I just—there’s pressure. Expectations. We’re all gonna be different now. Older. We’ve lived outside of that world for so long, it’s not going to be the same. And I’m scared I won’t love it the way I used to. Or that I’ll want it too much and burn out again.”

Your thumb softly traced beneath his eye.

“You don’t have to have all the answers yet,” you murmured. “Just take the next step. One at a time.”

Yoongi let out a breath. Not quite relief, but close.

“You always know what to say.”

“No,” you said with a small smile. “I just know you.”

He looked at you again, really looked this time, and that quiet, aching fondness was back in full force. The kind that never demanded attention but still managed to take up all the space in the room.

“I want you there,” he said, voice soft and sure. “When it all starts again. Not hidden. Not on the sidelines. Just… with me.”

You nodded, brushing your nose against his before whispering, “Always.”

Yoongi didn’t kiss you right away.

He held your face like it was the last fragile thing in a world made of sharp edges, and then, he kissed you.

You didn’t know who started it, but the kiss deepened before either of you thought to stop it. A soft press of lips became something hungrier, something hot and slow and aching with everything unsaid.

Yoongi’s hand cradled the back of your head, his thumb brushing just behind your ear. The other slid to your hip, pulling you closer until you were practically on top of him. You shifted, straddling his lap fully, thighs settling on either side of his, and the sound he made sent a sharp pulse straight through the apex of your thighs.

His tongue traced the seam of your mouth, and you opened for him. The taste of whiskey lingered faintly on his breath, but more than that, it was him.

Warm and addicting.

You rocked forward just slightly, enough to feel the stiff press of him beneath you.

Yoongi tensed, groaning into your mouth as your hips moved again. The pressure, the friction, had you squirming before you could stop yourself. His hands gripped your hips harder, guiding the movement just a little, just enough.

“Shit,” he muttered, his voice ragged against your lips. “You trying to kill me?”

You smiled against his mouth, breath catching. “Maybe.”

Another roll of your hips and he swore again, this time dragging his mouth to your jaw, then your neck, where he pressed a kiss just below your ear.

And then, a wet snort.

You both froze.

Then came a soft shuffle and another sneeze like exhale. Yoongi turned his head just enough to see Holly sprawled on his side by the couch, staring up at you both like he had just woken up to a live drama finale he definitely shouldn’t be watching.

You burst out laughing.

Yoongi let his head fall back against the couch with a dramatic groan. “This fucking dog…”

“I think he’s judging us.”

“I know he’s judging us.”

Still laughing, you moved to slide off his lap, but Yoongi caught you before you could. In one smooth motion, he stood, lifting you with him. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders automatically, heart thudding.

“Yoongi—”

“We’re taking this somewhere Holly can’t emotionally imprint on the trauma.”

You laughed even harder, your nose bumping against his cheek as he carried you toward the bedroom, his grip firm and certain.

“And what exactly do you plan to do to me in there?”

Yoongi glanced down at you, eyes dark and glittering with intent, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he murmured, “things you definitely shouldn’t do in front of your children.”

You shrieked and hit his chest, breathless from laughter, head tipping back as he kicked open the bedroom door with his foot.

Behind you, Holly let out one last disgruntled little puff of air and curled back into a loaf.

Yoongi didn’t rush.

He was finally done with his service. There was no need to. And true to himself, Yoongi planned to take his time with you.

Even with weeks of want pressed into the heat between you, even with the taste of your mouth still lingering on his tongue and the shape of your thighs burned into his palms, he didn’t rush.

He laid you down gently, your back sinking into the mattress, the light from the hallway casting warm shadows across your skin. His eyes took you in like he was starving, like he’d been starving for months.

He peeled you out of his sweatshirt with a few gentle tugs. No shirt underneath, no bra.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “You are trying to kill me.”

You smiled, breathless and hazy, but it faltered when he leaned down and dragged his mouth over your breasts. His tongue was slow, tracing lazy circles around a nipple until it hardened beneath the drag of his lips. Then he sucked, just enough to make your fingers curl in his hair.

Your breath hitched. Yoongi hummed, tongue flicking once more before trailing lower, over your side, your stomach, your hips.

He whispered things as he went, words too quiet to make out. You only caught pieces. So good… missed this… fuck, you’re soft… Like a prayer, or a lullaby meant only for his own ears. There was admiration in every press of his lips. Admiration and hunger and something even more dangerous.

By the time he slipped your shorts down your legs, your thighs were already trembling.

His palm dragged up the inside of your knee, thumb brushing softly over sensitive skin. “Open for me, sweetheart,” he said, low and hoarse, like it cost him to keep still.

You did, thighs falling apart with no hesitation.

The air kissed the wet heat of you, and Yoongi’s gaze sharpened, but still, he didn’t dive in. No frantic desperation. No rush.

Just his lips brushing along the crease of your thigh.

Then again.

Then the other side.

Over and over.

Getting closer.

And then pulling away.

You squirmed. Your hips lifted instinctively toward him, only for his hand to pin you down gently, thumb stroking circles just beneath your hip bone.

“Yoongi…” you whimpered, voice threadbare with need.

He looked up at you, chin tucked between your thighs, hair messy, lips slightly parted—but his eyes glittered all dark and mischievous.

“I’ve been waiting twenty one months to take my time with you,” he said, all soft spoken sin. “Don’t think I’m gonna rush it now.”

Then finally, he licked one long deliberate stripe up your folds.

You gasped, back arching clean off the mattress, but Yoongi only hummed like he was tasting something divine. He didn’t stop there. His tongue moved with devastating precision, every flick calculated, every slow swirl around your clit designed to bring you just close enough.

And then retreat.

And then build again.

He latched his mouth around you, sucking just enough to make your breath stutter, hips rising for more. His grip tightened.

But then, he stopped.

You let out a strangled sound, hips jerking in confusion, in desperate disbelief.

He looked up again, mouth slick, eyes too wide and too innocent to be sincere. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Your chest rose and fell in sharp bursts. “You—you stopped.”

He tilted his head, mock concern twisting his features into a mask of gentle confusion. “I did?”

“Yoongi—”

“Shh,” he whispered, as two fingers slid deep into you before you could protest.

Your body seized, a cry breaking from your lips as he curled them just right, his thumb pressing lightly to your clit.

“You sound so fucking pretty like this,” he murmured, eyes locked on yours.

He found that spot inside you again, massaging it with slow, steady strokes until you felt it build. All hot, overwhelming, and dizzying.

And then, he pulled away.

Again.

You choked on a sob, hands flying up to clutch at his arms. Your eyes were glossy now, cheeks damp, your whole body trembling from the tension he’d so artfully crafted.

“Yoongi—please,” you whispered, voice broken, barely holding together. “Please, I can’t—”

He kissed the inside of your thigh, lips soft against your skin.

“Yes, you can. You can for me, right?”

His voice was sweet, gentle. But it wasn’t kindness. It was torture.

Another round. Another climb. This time he used everything—his tongue, his fingers, his mouth—driving you to the edge until your body couldn’t tell if it wanted to cum or cry. You were gasping, breath breaking with every stroke, every flick of his tongue, thighs clamped tight around his head in desperation.

Tears slipped from the corners of your eyes, your body pulsing on the edge of release, so close it hurt.

And Yoongi, he looked up at you with that same soft smile, that same faux innocence, like he wasn’t the one breaking you down piece by piece with every touch.

Like this wasn’t exactly what he wanted.

And just when you thought you’d reached your limit, thought you were about to break, he gave in.

Yoongi sat back on his heels for a moment, the soft light casting shadows across his jawline. His lips were still slick from you and swollen, a flush faintly blooming on his cheeks.

Then, without a word, he reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. Exposing the lean muscle and sharp lines of his body inch by inch. He tossed it to the side, not breaking eye contact. His hands moved to the waistband of his sweats next, dragging them down with a roll of his hips.

You propped yourself up slightly, breath catching as he stood to push them all the way off.

“Are you putting on a show for me, Min?” you teased, your voice soft but playful, cheeks still flushed from the cruel bliss of everything he’d just done to you.

He smirked, his cock heavy and flushed, bobbing slightly as he stepped back between your legs. “Don’t act like you’re not the one begging for an encore.”

You laughed, but it slipped into a gasp when he leaned over you, bracing one hand beside your head while the other lined himself up. The blunt head of his cock nudging at your entrance, hot, hard and achingly thick.

His eyes met yours.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, the words barely audible over your pounding heart.

Then he slid inside.

Your cry was half sob, half surrender as he pushed inside slowly in a long, unhurried thrust. Inch by inch, filling you until his hips were flush against yours and you felt impossibly full, stretched wide and warm around him.

Yoongi dropped his head to your shoulder, breath shuddering against your skin. “Fuck,” he groaned, voice cracking on your name like he’d been starving for this moment. Like this was his first breath of air in months.

He didn’t move.

Just stayed there, pressed so deep it felt like he could feel the beat of your heart from the inside. You clung to him, dazed and overwhelmed, trying to process the way he filled you so completely it almost hurt.

And then, he moved.

Slowly.

So slow.

Each roll of his hips deep and devastating. He fucked you like he had all the time in the world, like he was making up for every lost second. His lips trailed kisses across your cheek, your temple, the corner of your mouth. His hands gripped your thighs and then your hips, grounding you as your body molded to his.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, drawing him deeper, your nails scraping down his back as the pressure built again.

“Yoongi,” you whispered, voice trembling.

He kissed you softly. “I know.”

Your moans grew louder, breathier, every thrust coaxing more from you, unraveling you thread by thread. The steady rhythm turned hungrier, hips snapping a little harder, a little sharper, but never losing that deliberate care, that tether of control wrapped tightly around both of you.

You broke with a sob, your body clenching tight around him, your back arching as the pleasure finally tore through you. It rolled in waves, raw and overwhelming, your fingers clawing at his shoulders as if you could anchor yourself to him.

He didn’t stop.

“Good girl,” Yoongi rasped, the words gritted out through clenched teeth. “That’s it. Let me feel you.”

He thrust through it, riding the high, until your body began to tremble under his and your cries gave way to quiet, broken whimpers. He kissed your throat, your chest, lips suckling and biting your nipples as he fucked you. His hands soothed over your hips as if to apologize for the ruin he was leaving in his wake.

Then he finally let go.

He thrust deep one last time, a full bodied groan tearing from his lips as he came. His whole body shuddered against yours, mouth finding the hollow of your throat as he moaned your name into your skin, like it was the only thing he wanted to say.

When it was over, he didn’t pull away.

Yoongi cradled you against his chest, his heartbeat still pounding as your legs slowly slid down from around his waist. He kissed your temple, the corner of your eye where a tear still clung, then ran his fingers gently through your hair.

Your body still twitched in the aftermath. His touch was slow, soothing, grounding you as if he couldn’t bear to let you drift even an inch.

“I’m home,” he whispered.

And this time, it wasn’t a metaphor.

It was a vow.

No drills. No deadlines. No long hours and coming home too mentally exhausted to do anything.

Just this—his skin on yours, your name on his lips, and the silence finally filled by the sound of peace.

You lay tangled together in the low, amber warmth of the bedroom, skin to skin, legs lazily woven through his. The room had gone quiet again, save for the hum of the city beyond the window and the low, steady sound of your breath returning to normal.

Your skin was cooling but still slick with sweat in places. Every inhale brought the scent of sex and warmth and him. Something earthy, grounding, and entirely Yoongi.

Your head rested on his chest, ear pressed to the steady drum of his heart. The beat was slower now, steady again, but the weight of it beneath your cheek made you feel safe in a way that nothing else ever had.

Yoongi’s fingers drifted along your spine, light and slow and without direction, like his body needed the constant contact to believe you were still there. Every now and then his thumb would pause at your lower back, or brush along your side.

He wasn’t ready to sleep.

Not yet.

Neither were you.

You lifted your head after a while, your cheek creasing against his chest as you shifted just enough to look at him. His eyes were open, soft and dark in the low light, already watching you.

There was something in his expression that made your chest ache.

Something unspoken passed between you. That quiet pulse that always beat strongest when there was nothing left to perform, no ego, no masks. Just you. Just him. Just the knowing.

Then you shifted and climbed over him.

Yoongi’s hands found your hips instinctively, his breath catching slightly as you reached down and guided his still hardening cock inside you again. He was still sensitive, and so were you, but the stretch felt like being wrapped in silk.

You sank down slowly, breath trembling as your body molded to his. No urgency now, or easing. Just the soft, burning ache of connection that ran deeper than anything physical.

He stared up at you like he couldn’t quite believe you were real. Hair tousled. Skin flushed. Lips parted as he exhaled a shaky breath that ghosted over your throat.

“You’re gonna ruin me,” he whispered, voice hoarse and low.

You smiled, leaning down to kiss him.

And then you moved.

You rolled your hips in gentle circles, every glide and shift dragging him deeper, tighter, making both of you gasp. Your hands framed his face, thumbs brushing over the curve of his cheekbones. His eyes fluttered shut, overwhelmed by the intimacy, by the heat, by the way your body gripped him like it knew him.

His hands gripped your waist, fingers digging in just slightly, anchoring himself.

“You feel so fucking good,” he whispered. “Every time, but—fuck—like this…”

You could feel him trembling beneath you, trying to hold still, trying not to lose himself too fast.

“You’re perfect.”

You kissed him again. Softer now. Like a promise.

“I love you,” he said, the words so quiet they nearly disappeared into your skin.

You paused, not from doubt, but from the weight of it. From how much it meant to hear it like that. Bare. Honest. Unprovoked.

He tucked your hair behind your ear, his thumb brushing over your temple.

“I do. I love you. And I’m so fucking happy you gave me a chance.”

“Yoongi—”

“I was scared,” he confessed, voice breaking a little. “Not of you—never of you. Just… of being seen. Of being known like this. You looked at me and didn’t flinch. You didn’t run. You stayed.”

You rolled your hips down again and his breath caught hard in his throat. His head tipped back, jaw slack with pleasure.

“You stayed.”

You kissed him again, this time slow and deep, like you were pouring every ounce of yourself into the space between you. Your hips moved with aching tenderness, each motion drawing you closer to the edge again.

“I think about the sounds you make,” he murmured against your throat. “When you cum. When you break. They’re so fucking beautiful, baby.”

Your breath hitched. The tension building again, coiling low and tight as his hands guided you in that same slow rhythm.

“I’m gonna record them one day,” he whispered, brushing his lips against your ear. “Sneak them into a track. Hide them in the layers so only I know they’re there.”

Your heart thudded hard.

“The breath you take right before you fall apart. That little gasp. The way you cry out my name. I’ll keep it buried in the beat like a secret.”

You clenched around him involuntarily, the pleasure building so high, so fast, your whole body quaked. Your hands gripped his shoulders, face tucked into the crook of his neck.

“Let go,” he whispered. “Let me hear it, sweetheart.”

And you did.

You came with a soft sob, your entire body locking down around him, thighs shaking, chest pressed to his. You shook with it, clung to him like you’d fall apart if you let go.

Yoongi followed soon after, holding you tightly as he spilled inside you, voice catching in your ear as he whispered your name like it was the only word that still mattered.

The practice room was just how you remembered it.

Long wall of mirrors. Scuffed floors. The faint scent of sweat and long hours spent rehearsing lingering in the corners. And yet today, it didn’t feel like a space for work. Not really. It felt like something awakened. A quiet celebration carved out between return and rebirth.

You stood near the back wall, tucked between two Hybe staffers holding sparklers that wouldn’t light, watching as Yoongi was gently bullied into the center of the room.

He stood awkwardly, barefoot on the polished floor, sweatpants slung low on his hips, a bouquet of white peonies and hydrangeas cradled in one arm and a cake in the other. His ears were red, and he was already muttering protests.

And then they started to sing.

Namjoon sang the loudest. Jin the most off key. Hoseok was filming the whole thing on his phone while simultaneously trying to shove a party hat onto Yoongi’s head. Jungkook laughed so hard he dropped his sparkler, and Taehyung had thrown confetti prematurely and was now trying to brush it out of Yoongi’s hair with no real success.

Yoongi stood in the eye of the storm with Jimin’s arms wrapped tightly around him, expression caught somewhere between exasperated and shy amusement. His fingers curled tighter around the cake as he tried to will down the smile pulling at his lips.

He wasn’t successful in the slightest.

After the last line of the song was shouted more than sung, the room burst into laughter and clapping. Staff members cheered. One of the managers brought out a cooler of drinks. Jin wrapped his arm around Yoongi’s shoulder and gave him a firm shake.

“Welcome back, hyung. You’re officially free.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, but the look he gave Jin was full of something warm and deep. “Don’t remind me.”

The others gathered around him, pulling him into a loose huddle. There were back pats, too tight hugs, soft words exchanged that only they could hear.

They had all made it back.

Every last one.

For the first time in over two years, BTS stood whole again. Not just in title, but in body and soul. Hair a little shorter. Faces a little sharper. But hearts still tethered together by something that hadn’t faded with time.

“We did it,” Namjoon said, voice thick, gaze sweeping over them all. “All of us.”

Yoongi smiled faintly. “Now we make music.”

They stood there for a long moment. Just the seven of them, the silence stretching wide and comfortable. Like standing at the edge of something new, but not uncertain, familiar.

Yoongi’s eyes drifted across the room.

They found you instantly.

You weren’t even trying to hide, just leaning against the mirror with arms crossed lightly over your chest, watching him like you always did. With that quiet kind of pride that didn’t shout. The kind that just saw him.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

He smiled, just for you. Just a flicker. A promise.

Then Jungkook shouted his name and Yoongi was pulled back into the huddle, laughter erupting again as someone tried to smear frosting on his face.

You stayed where you were.

Watching as he laughed. Watching as he stood surrounded by his brothers. Whole and healed and home.

And when he looked back at you one last time over someone’s shoulder, you nodded.

Go on.

This was always where he was meant to be.

masterlist

dividers courtesy of @uzmacchiato

[yoomiwrites]

Sweet Innocence ²

Summary: Princess Y/N’s kingdom is falling apart, and her family’s only hope is her marriage to a cruel, old king. Desperate, she makes a reckless choice one night—and wakes up in Niji Vinsmoke’s bed. Now, caught between a dangerous engagement and Niji’s growing interest, Y/N must navigate a deadly game of survival where one wrong move could cost her everything.

Note: Chapter 2 of this little darling. Truth to be told, Niji isn’t my favorite out of our mean Vinsmoke trio. It's Yonji, actually. However, I like a good ol' challenge. It's funny, though. In Bounty Rush I tried desperately to get Yonji. Got Ichiji 8 times, Niji 2 times. Well, in the end, also one Yonji. I guess Ichiji and I work the best? IMPORTANT: Starting from Chapter 4, we will switch to second-person (You), if you WANT that. Please comment beneath this chapter!

I also don't know if I will continue to use bold in the story. I thought it's nice as first, but maybe it isn't? Mhhm, we will see!

Third-person pov. Female Reader. Sensitive topics. Hard language. Slight Gore. Slow Updates. Enemies to lovers. Sex mentioned. Forced marriage. Death mentioned. Sensitive topics. Abuse. Blood. Mention of virginity loss.

Chapter 1

Y/N’s breath hitched, her pulse a wild, erratic drumbeat in her ears.

This couldn’t be happening.

This had to be a nightmare—some twisted, alcohol-fueled illusion that her mind had conjured up. Because there was no way she was standing in Niji Vinsmoke’s room, wrapped in nothing but a silk blanket, with a very real stain of blood on the sheets behind her.

And yet, every tiny detail screamed that this was real.

The cold bite of the floor against her bare feet.

The distant clang of swords clashing outside.

The heavy scent of steel and faint cologne in the air.

And Niji—standing there with that insufferable, cocky smirk, like this was all some great inconvenience to him.

She yanked the blanket tightly around herself as if it could somehow protect her from reality. Her body wobbled slightly, the remnants of alcohol still dulling her balance, but she didn’t care.

All she could see was the blood.

A single red mark on the pristine fabric.

It was undeniable.

She had actually—

Y/N sucked in a sharp breath, panic rising like a tidal wave.

Niji’s amused exhale cut through the silence.

“Oh, for god’s sake.”

She snapped her head up, eyes burning with a mix of shock, confusion, and something dangerously close to humiliation.

He was watching her like she was a petulant child, arms crossed over his chest, shoulders loose, like this entire thing was nothing more than an unfortunate hassle.

“What’s with that look?” he muttered, tilting his head. “You were a lot more eager last night.”

Y/N’s face burned, mortification crashing over her.

She didn’t remember.

She didn’t remember anything past that kiss.

Just… darkness.

Her fingers clenched around the fabric of the blanket, her voice coming out shaky.

“What… What did you do?”

Niji let out a short, humorless laugh.

“Me?” He gestured to himself, looking almost offended. “You’re the one who—” He stopped himself, exhaling sharply, before dragging a gloved hand down his face. “Forget it. You’re too hungover to process it, anyway.”

Her nails dug into the silk, her stomach twisting.

This wasn’t funny.

This wasn’t some joke.

She was ruined.

Although she had planned to do this, he was the worst possible outcome. And Niji—he was acting like it was just another inconvenient morning after.

Y/N’s hands were trembling now, her body too overwhelmed to even think straight.

But before she could say anything else, Niji moved forward.

She immediately took a step back, hitting the wooden post of the bedframe, but it didn’t matter. He was already there, already reaching for something—

The blanket.

Her breath caught as his fingers brushed against the silk, grasping the edge near her knee.

She tried to jerk away, but his grip was firm, and before she could stop him, he lifted it just slightly, just enough to expose her leg.

His gaze lowered.

Y/N’s chest tightened, heart slamming against her ribs as she watched his expression shift.

For a second—just a fleeting second—he looked almost… amused.

Then, with an exasperated sigh, he let the blanket fall back into place and straightened.

“You’re an idiot,” he muttered.

Y/N’s stomach dropped.

“What—” she started, but he was already shaking his head.

“The blood?” He gestured lazily to the sheets. “It’s from your knee.”

She blinked.

Her knee?

What was he—

Niji sighed again, like explaining this was physically painful for him.

“You fell last night,” he said flatly, crossing his arms. “Smashed your damn knee on the stairs before you threw yourself at me.”

She froze.

Her mind reeled, scrambling through the fragments of her memory, trying to remember—

But there was nothing.

Just that kiss.

Just darkness.

Just… this.

Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

Niji’s smirk returned, sharper this time.

“You seriously thought I—” he huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Y/N felt her entire body go rigid.

The world tilted, humiliation creeping up her spine like a slow, suffocating weight.

She hadn’t—

He hadn’t—

She was still—

Her throat tightened, heat rushing to her cheeks, and Niji just watched her flounder, his grin widening with something dangerously close to satisfaction.

“You’re not my type, Princess,” he added lazily. “Not even close.”

Y/N stared at him.

Her breath was uneven, her body still wrapped in tension, her mind still struggling to catch up—

And yet, all she could focus on were those words.

"Not even close."

Something in her snapped.

Y/N’s fists clenched, her pulse still hammering from the sheer humiliation of his words. The sharp sting of it settled deep in her chest, curling into something hot and angry.

How dare he?

How dare he act so unbothered, so casual, after everything?

She wasn’t expecting kindness, but this? This was mockery.

Y/N lifted her chin, ignoring the lingering heat in her cheeks as she forced herself to speak.

"If I’m such an ‘idiot,’” she shot back, her voice steady but laced with irritation, “then why am I even here?”

Niji exhaled sharply through his nose, looking like he couldn’t believe he was still having this conversation.

“Hell if I know,” he muttered. Then, with a slow, lazy stretch, he met her glare with a smirk that made her want to slap him. “You were the one who wouldn’t let go of me last night.”

Y/N’s stomach twisted.

“That’s a lie,” she hissed.

He chuckled. “Oh? So you’re saying you didn’t grab me and start mumbling about how ‘anyone would do’ as long as it meant you didn’t have to marry that wrinkled bastard?”

Her blood ran cold.

She felt like she’d been doused in ice water, the weight of his words sinking in.

Had she really—?

Had she actually said that?

Her throat tightened, but Niji was already moving on, stepping toward the door with lazy disinterest.

“I’ll admit,” he mused, “I actually considered it.”

Y/N’s breath hitched.

He kept walking, his tone casual, like he was just discussing the weather.

“I could have turned off the lights. Pretended you were someone else.” He smirked at the way she stiffened, clearly enjoying how every word rattled her. “But then you passed out as soon as your head hit the pillow.”

Her fingers twitched, her anger flaring once more.

“And before I could kick you out, Ichiji called for me.” He shrugged. “Didn’t come back till now.”

Y/N’s breath was shallow, her mind spinning.

So that was it?

She had stumbled into his room, made a fool of herself, and then just collapsed into unconsciousness before anything could happen?

She felt sick.

Not from relief.

Not from fear.

From the way he was looking at her.

Like she was nothing more than a wasted opportunity.

Like he was already bored.

“Shouldn’t you be happy?” he added, voice dripping with amusement. “You got exactly what you wanted.”

Y/N flinched, her grip on the blanket tightening.

It was true.

This was what she wanted, wasn’t it?

Niji let out an exaggerated yawn, stretching his arms behind his head as he turned toward the door.

“Well,” he drawled, already stepping out, “you should probably get out of here before someone—”

The door swung open before he could finish.

A woman stood in the doorway, clad in the crisp uniform of a GERMA servant, her posture stiff and proper, her hands neatly folded in front of her apron.

Y/N froze, her body still wrapped in nothing but the silk blanket, her breath caught in her throat.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then—

“Ah, Prince Niji,” the woman greeted politely, dipping into a small bow.

Y/N felt the shift instantly.

The way her tone was calm—yet carefully measured.

Respectful, but… empty.

Like she was speaking out of duty, not choice.

“Cleaning?” Niji asked, completely unbothered.

“Yes, my lord.”

His smirk widened slightly as he tilted his head toward Y/N.

“Well, have fun with that,” he said smoothly. “Maybe scrub the shame off of her while you’re at it.”

Y/N’s cheeks burned, but before she could snap at him, he was already walking past the maid, his hands in his pockets, not sparing her a second glance.

“Try not to embarrass yourself any further, Princess,” he added over his shoulder.

Then he was gone.

The door clicked shut behind him, and suddenly, the room felt too quiet, too suffocating.

Y/N’s nails dug into the fabric of the blanket, her heart still hammering, her emotions still in chaos.

She didn’t know if she was angry or relieved or just…

Lost.

The maid took a single step forward, keeping her gaze lowered.

“…Miss Y/N,” she said softly, voice laced with forced politeness.

Y/N barely registered it, her mind still swirling, her body still rooted in place.

She couldn’t move.

She couldn’t think.

All she could do was stand there, overwhelmed, angry, and confused.

The soft clinking of glass and the quiet rustle of fabric filled the room as the maid silently began tidying up.

Y/N stayed still, watching as the woman moved with practiced efficiency—pulling the sheets, smoothing the pillows, gathering the scattered remnants of last night.

Then she reached for the bloodstained fabric.

Y/N saw her hesitate.

Just for a second, her fingers stiffened, her breath hitched—

Then she carefully peeled the sheet away, folding it as if it was just another inconvenience to be dealt with.

Y/N’s lips curled slightly.

She’d noticed.

Servants noticed everything—they were trained to, conditioned to observe without question, to ignore what wasn’t meant to be spoken of.

And yet…

Her eyes.

When she glanced up, just for a moment, Y/N caught a flicker of understanding there.

A quiet, knowing look.

Perfect.

If Niji was going to be such an insufferable bastard, then she might as well use it.

So she forced her expression to shift, letting a deep blush creep onto her cheeks as she hugged the blanket closer, casting her gaze away with deliberate shyness.

The maid caught the movement.

Y/N hesitated, then let out a soft, flustered sigh—just enough to sound like someone who had been caught in a compromising situation.

“Please,” she murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t tell anyone.”

The maid blinked.

Y/N took a small step closer, keeping her tone hesitant, her fingers clutching the fabric as if she was genuinely embarrassed.

“I… I don’t want anyone to know what happened,” she continued, lowering her eyes. “It was just… It was just a mistake.”

She risked a glance up.

The maid didn’t say a word, but her posture shifted, her hands still gripping the sheet.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Of course, Y/N knew better than to trust her silence.

Servants were notorious for gossip—they weren’t supposed to, but whispers always spread like wildfire in places like these.

And that was exactly what she wanted.

Even if she had humiliated herself, she could still salvage this.

If the right people heard the rumors, then Zeang would have no choice but to call off the wedding.

She wouldn’t have to marry that old creep.

And Niji?

Well.

If he wanted to be an asshole, then he could deal with the consequences of people thinking he’d taken her virginity.

Y/N took a steady breath, then turned toward the nearby dresser, scanning the neatly folded pile of clothes that had been left for her.

She dressed quickly, ignoring the slight dizziness that still lingered from her hangover.

By the time she slipped her shoes on, the maid had already finished the bed, tucking the folded bloodstained sheet into the laundry basket.

Y/N didn’t bother saying anything else.

She straightened, tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and walked toward the door with confidence she didn’t quite feel.

The hallway was too quiet when she stepped out, the sharp scent of polished steel and antiseptic filling her lungs.

Germa’s castle was a maze, every corridor blending into the next with its cold metallic walls and geometric precision.

And Y/N—who had only been here for a short time—had no idea where she was going.

She took a turn—then another—then a third, her frustration growing as she realized she was completely lost.

“Where the hell is the—”

“Princess Y/N.”

She froze.

The voice was deep, commanding—not quite scolding, but holding a weight of authority that made her tense instinctively.

When she turned, she was met with a towering, broad-shouldered man, his sharp eyes locking onto hers with mild disapproval.

Mr. Garrick, her father’s most loyal servant.

A man of discipline, order, and unwavering obedience—one who had served her family for years, standing at her father’s right hand like an unshakable pillar.

And right now, he was not pleased.

Y/N swallowed, forcing a neutral expression.

“Good morning,” she said smoothly, as if she hadn’t just stumbled out of a prince’s bedroom.

Garrick narrowed his gaze.

“Your father is expecting you,” he stated. “Come. Breakfast is being served.”

Y/N’s stomach dropped.

He didn’t know.

He had no idea where she had actually spent the night—he just assumed she had come from their ship.

If he assumed, then so would everyone else. For now.

She tilted her head, keeping her expression carefully composed.

“Of course,” she murmured, offering a small, polite smile.

Then she stepped forward, following him down the hall—

Straight into the lion’s den.

The grand dining hall of Germa 66 was as cold and calculated as the rest of the floating fortress.

Metallic walls gleamed under the sterile lighting, the long table set with polished silverware and delicacies fit for royalty. The air was thick with the scent of freshly cooked meats and fine wines, a luxurious contrast to the harsh, militant atmosphere that loomed over the kingdom.

Y/N sat beside Hitomi, her posture composed, her fingers carefully slicing through a piece of fruit on her plate.

She did not speak.

She did not engage in the discussions taking place around her.

She simply ate, ignoring the steady hum of conversation as it carried through the room—discussions about politics, war strategies, and, of course, the upcoming marriages.

Across from her, Niji sat with the same air of disinterest, his usual arrogant smirk absent, his sunglasses shielding his expression. He hadn’t so much as looked at her since she arrived.

She had no interest in looking at him either.

But even as she kept her gaze down, focusing solely on her plate, she could hear it.

The whispers.

They were subtle at first—nothing more than quiet murmurs exchanged between the servants as they moved around the table, refilling glasses and replacing dishes.

But Y/N was listening.

She noticed the way one of them, a younger girl, leaned slightly toward Garrick, whispering something in his ear.

She noticed the way Garrick’s entire body stiffened, his brows drawing together in sharp, calculating thought.

And then—

He turned.

Y/N didn’t look up, but she felt the weight of his gaze on her.

And when he finally leaned toward her father, voice low and urgent, she felt that too.

The moment the words left his mouth, she saw it—

Her father, in the middle of taking a sip of wine, suddenly choked.

The goblet clattered onto the table as he coughed, his face turning a shade of deep red—not from the wine, but from the rage that suddenly consumed him.

The entire table froze.

Y/N slowly placed her fork down, still refusing to look up, her expression unreadable.

Her father’s chair scraped against the floor as he sat up straighter, his fingers clenching into fists against the table. His eyes—fierce and burning with fury—locked onto her like a predator preparing to strike.

“Y/N,” he said, voice low, dangerous. “Tell me what I just heard isn’t true.”

She blinked.

Then, with an air of deliberate innocence, she tilted her head and finally met his gaze.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, Father.”

The vein in his temple bulged.

With a sudden, thunderous slam, his palm came down onto the table, rattling the silverware and causing several nearby servants to flinch.

The noise was sharp, cutting through the room like a blade.

Every conversation ceased.

Every fork and knife was set down.

All eyes turned to them.

And then—

“Did you sleep with the second Germa prince?”

Silence.

Complete.

Utter.

Silence.

The silence stretched long and heavy, pressing down on the room like an approaching storm.

Y/N could feel the weight of every gaze, the tension thick enough to choke on.

Her father’s fingers twitched against the table, his nostrils flaring, his jaw clenched so tight she thought his teeth might crack.

And yet—

She did not flinch.

She did not cower.

Instead, she took a slow, measured breath, lifted her chin, and met his gaze head-on.

“And what if I had?”

A sharp inhale.

Her father bolted up from his chair, the movement so forceful that his goblet of wine tipped over, the deep red liquid spilling across the pristine white tablecloth.

“You—” His voice trembled with rage, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Y/N saw his fury.

She saw the way his face darkened, the way his knuckles turned white with the force of his grip—

But before he could explode, before he could make a scene in front of the entire Germa court—

Her mother’s hand landed gently on his arm.

“Darling,” she said softly, her tone carrying both urgency and restraint, “not here.”

Her father turned to her, breathing hard, as if trying to contain the storm inside him.

“We will discuss this on our ship,” her mother continued, her voice calm, unwavering. “Not now.”

Another beat of silence.

Then, with a deep, furious exhale, her father snatched a cloth from the table and wiped his hands with sharp, jerky motions, barely containing himself.

No one spoke.

No one moved.

Not Hitomi.

Not Reiju.

Not Ichiji.

Not even Yonji, who usually thrived on chaos, was willing to say a word.

And Niji?

He sat utterly still, arms crossed, sunglasses shielding his eyes.

It wasn’t until a voice finally broke the silence that the tension shifted—

But it wasn’t her father’s.

It was Judge Vinsmoke’s.

“Niji.”

Slowly, all eyes turned to him.

Judge leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, gaze sharp as he regarded his son.

“Well?” he asked. “Did you?”

It was the first time Niji looked at her.

Y/N held his gaze, heart pounding, unsure of what he would say—

And then, just as quickly, he turned back to his father and said, “What if I did?”

He didn’t confirm it.

But he didn’t deny it either.

He had repeated what she had said. And that was enough.

It was enough for Judge, who nodded slightly, slowly.

It was enough for her father, who turned back to Y/N with an even deeper rage burning in his eyes.

“Come with me,” he ordered, his voice deadly calm.

Y/N hesitated.

Then, slowly, she stood.

Her chair scraped against the floor as she stepped away from the table, spine rigid, ignoring the lingering stares.

Her father strode ahead without another word, his entire body coiled with fury, and Y/N followed without protest.

But just as she reached the door, she heard the hurried footsteps behind her—

“Wait!”

It was Hitomi, her expression tense, her mother close behind her.

They rushed after them, their voices low, urgent, as they left the silent, watching Vinsmokes behind.

[ild-rllrcstr]

Offline, Online part 1

Lando Norris X You / slow burn / 3.1K

part 2 (coming soon)

Summary Online, you know him as your constant racing rival and friend who talks about everything. Unawareingly, offline, he's Lando Norris, the charming, frustrating driver you’re assigned to style, who somehow makes every workday a challenge. At work, you don’t like him. He doesn’t take you seriously. But behind the screens, you both vent about each other without knowing who’s who. Slowly, late-night races and shared secrets start to blur the lines between friendship and something more. As reality and virtual worlds collide, feelings sneak up when you least expect them.

Warnings swearing A/N Had this idea for a while, just was trying to figure out how I can make it work, that's why it's taking me a while, hope you like this!

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡

Growing up with two older brothers obsessed with cars, your childhood was shaped by the sound of engines and the thrill of competition. Your favourite family pastime? Sim racing. From clunky old Nintendos and chaotic rounds of Mario Kart, to the sleek playseats that came later, your childhood home even had a room dedicated just for it. Glowing screens, the occasional shouting match, it was your version of bonding.

Now that all three of you have moved out, the playseat came with you. It sits proudly in the corner of your apartment, slightly scratched, a little worn, but updates throughout the years have made it special, it’s yours. Whenever life lets you breathe between lectures, meetings, or deadlines, you’re in that seat, headset on, world off. It’s the only place where your brain quiets down.

Every vacation, like a sacred ritual, your family meets for real karting. Nothing fancy, just cracked helmets, adrenaline, and way too much post-race trash talk over greasy burgers. 

That same energy followed you online. What started as a few family Discord races evolved into a tiny, anonymous sim racing community, just a handful of players, most of whom you've never met, but know like clockwork. You race together. Chat late at night. Share playlists. Sometimes vent. No real names. No real identities. Just usernames, shared laps, and the comforting hum of familiarity.

Hanging behind your name on the ranking is always @mclateagain4, You don’t know who he is, not really.

His voice always crackles through your headset most nights like static and safety, confident, teasing. Always one second behind you, always threatening to beat your lap. 

He’s funny, in that low-effort way that feels real. He never pushes. But when he really talks, there’s a weight to it. Like someone who spends too much time pretending he’s fine. But lately, you're starting to think about him more than you used to.

Not in a crushy, hearts-in-your-eyes kind of way, at least that’s what you keep telling yourself. It's just... he’s always there. Same time. Same lobby. Same teasing drawl and last-minute overtakes. You’ve started noticing things. You noticed the way his voice softens when he’s tired, how he breathes heavier when he’s frustrated. He somehow always knows when you’ve had a rough day, even when you say nothing. It should be weird. But it’s not.

You don’t even know his real name. He only ever said to call him “Late.”Just Late.

Which you did, until one night, maybe out of tiredness, maybe just to see how he’d react, you called him Lando.

There was a pause. Then a low laugh.

“Do I really sound that much like him?”

“Exactly like him,” you replied, with a small smirk he couldn’t see.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, I guess. He’s kinda hot.”

You snorted. “Your favourite driver is going to get all flushed if he hears that.”

“Well, I think he’ll graciously accept that compliment.”

And that was that. A joke. A deflection. But still… something lingered.

Even your brothers brought it up once or twice, half-serious, half-mocking.

“If that is Lando, you could technically say you beat a Formula 1 driver three nights in a row.”

“If that is Lando,” you rolled your eyes, “he should be embarrassed.”

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡

You weren’t supposed to care.

This was a job, just another freelance gig. High-profile of the year, sure, but temporary. You’d worked events before, styled minor names, built up your portfolio. This was no different.

Except, it was.

Because the second you saw his name on the call sheet, your stomach flipped. Lando Norris. The same driver whose race wins you’d cheered, whose Monaco onboard laps you’d rewatched more times than you’d admit. He was a big part of your journey watching F1. But now, none of that mattered.

Because now, you were here to work.

You remind yourself of that as you step into the studio with your clipboard in hand. Your job? Coordinate styling for an event he’s part of for the quarter of the year. Keep everything on schedule. Be precise. Be professional.

No fangirling. No mistakes. You kept it professional. That’s what mattered.

But he showed up twenty minutes late, hoodie half-zipped, sunglasses on indoors, and laughing at something on his phone. He apparently overslept.

Even if he acted like it was no big deal. Like everyone would wait. Like time bent for him.

You’d worked with big names before. Actors. Models. Musicians. But something about Lando Norris, the real, in-person version of him, rubbed you the wrong way.

It wasn’t his fault, really. Not completely. He was polite enough. He said “Good morning” to everyone when he walked in. Smiled when the assistant handed him water. Made a joke to the lighting guy that had everyone laughing.

Everyone but you.

Because this wasn’t a joke. You were here to make sure he looked camera-ready. That the angles matched, the pieces sat right, and the vision stayed intact. That meant time. Precision. Focus.

And Lando, apparently, focus was not his best strength outside of that car.

He slouched during fittings, fidgeted during test shots, messed with his hair between takes. When you gently asked him to sit up straighter or stop undoing buttons, he just grinned, like it was a game.

You didn’t argue. Didn’t complain. Just kept your head down and finished the job.

"All good?” he asked once, noticing your silence while you fixed a collar.

“Yeah,” you said. “We’re on track.”

He nodded, but something in his expression flickered, like he noticed your tone and wasn’t sure how to read it. You didn’t clarify. You weren’t here to make friends. Just clothes fit.

That night, you finally kicked off your shoes, sit onto your race seat, and threw your headset on like it was armour.

Late was already in the lobby. His little car was idling on the screen like always.

"You sound tense today." He heard your sigh.

"I had the longest day with the most unbothered human alive."

You hit the track. The familiar hum of engines instantly started quieting your thoughts. But not enough.

"What happened?" He asked, the both of you warming up for the game.

You sighed again, "I’m on a new project working with this guy today, he was the main person for a campaign. Shows up late, makes jokes like it’s a school play, just seemed to be very unserious."

"So… like, main character syndrome?"

"Exactly. I get it, he’s the star. But damn, the world doesn’t gravitate around you."

"Maybe he was nervous and covering it," he laughed a bit.

"If nervous looks like flirting with the interns and ignoring directions, then sure. Olympic-level nerves."

He laughed in that quiet way of his, like he didn’t want to admit he found it as funny.

"Sounds like he brought the whole circus with him."

"You’d think. But honestly, I think he just… performs too much. It’s like no one’s ever told him he doesn’t have to be “on” all the time."

"Huh." You could almost hear him thinking on the other end of the headset.

"Funny. I had the opposite kind of day. Worked with someone who made it feel like I was talking to my grade 3 literature teacher every single time."

You blinked at his description.

"I’m assuming you didn’t like your grade 3 literature teacher very much."

He chuckled. "Yeah. She hated me like I was stupid or something. The person today was just like that, ice cold. Super tight up. Like, painfully professional."

"Maybe she didn’t want to blur lines."

"Sure. But I wasn’t asking her to braid friendship bracelets. I just try to make a good atmosphere at work, and she looked like I kicked her cat."

"Maybe you’re not as funny as you think you are."

"Ouch, but you love my jokes."

"I do." You laughed for real this time, and he did too, like some weird balance had been restored.

You both raced in near silence for a while after that. Just engine sounds, key clicks, and the occasional breath shared through static.

He beat your lap time. You called him a menace. He called you a tyrant.

You didn’t say anything about how your chest felt lighter.

Neither of you knew you’d spent the whole day silently bristling at each other… only to find comfort in each other later, under different names, different masks.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡

The next shoot was scheduled for Friday.

You’d already blocked it out on your calendar, triple-checked call times, and re-reviewed Lando’s sizing notes, though he probably wouldn’t wear half the things on the rack. You made your peace with that. It’s how the work is.

What you hadn’t made peace with was the fact that your stomach still flipped when his name showed up in your inbox. That same twist of nerves. Not from awe anymore, no, that had been crushed beneath a stack of moodboards and missed cues. Now, it was just tension.

You kept your head down all day.

You’d learned that trick early on. When things fall apart, stay quiet, stay useful. Control what you can.

Still, it didn’t stop the sting when the creative director barked that your notes were confusing, while it was obvious that he didn’t read any of your notes. Someone messed up the order of looks, but you took the blame. It didn’t stop the embarrassment when Lando, in front of half the team, cracked a joke about how tightly you clung to the schedule like it was life support.

You didn’t respond. Just gave a clipped nod, pretended your throat didn’t feel tight.

It wasn’t his fault. Not directly. He didn’t know what kind of morning you’d had. Didn’t know about the last-minute changes that no one told you about. Didn’t know that your work, your planning, your precision, was the only thing keeping the entire shoot from unravelling. And maybe that was the point.

He didn’t see you. Not really.

Later, you overheard him laughing with the photographer. Something about “people who take things way too seriously.” You didn’t stick around long enough to hear the punchline.

You left quietly without saying goodbye.

That night, your fingers hovered over your keyboard for a long moment before you typed.

You: Longest. Day. Ever.

"That bad?" His voice went through your headset like soothing

"Have you ever have one of those days where nothing technically explodes, but it still feels like you got run over emotionally?"

"Like a passive-aggressive train? Yeah."

You hesitated. Then just… let it spill.

"I got snapped at in front of a whole team for something that wasn’t my fault. Got told I was too ‘rigid’ when I was the only one holding things together. The person I was working with basically made me the punchline of the day."

There was a pause from him. "That sucks. I’m sorry."

"Yeah, well. That’s what I get for trying to be good at what I do."

"They sound like a bunch of arses."

"I don’t think they meant to be. He was just… doing his thing. Being chill. Everyone else liked him. I just… I don’t know. It made me feel small. And stupid in front of everybody."

There was a longer pause this time.

"That’s the worst. When someone makes you feel invisible but doesn’t even realise it."

You didn’t say anything for a moment. Just let his words sit there, heavier than you expected.

"I kinda feel that, had a crap day too." it was his turn to sigh.

"Yeah?"

"Worked with someone who I’m pretty sure hated my entire existence. Like, I was annoying just by breathing. Kept things cold, clipped. Acted like I was wasting their time just by showing up."

You blinked. Sat up straighter.

"That person sounds like an ass too."

"Maybe. Or maybe I was just too much. That happens sometimes." It was rare for you to hear the inconfidence in his voice.

You stared at the screen. 

"You’re not too much."

"You don’t even know me."

"For the times that we’ve raced together, I know how you race. I know how you talk when you’re tired. I know how you listen. I know you never miss when someone’s off. That’s not 'too much.' That’s human."

It took him a while to reply.

"Thanks. That means more than you think."

And something shifted after that.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡

The next time you Lando has a shooting, he was fitting with the director, laughing about lightening and something that has nothing to do with you. You were just arranging the space, folding pieces that had just come back from set, when the project manager approached.

“What happened with Lando’s jacket?” she snapped, not even lowering her voice. “That collar looked ridiculous in the wide shots.”

Your heart sank.

You had adjusted that collar three times. Each time, he’d shifted, moved, joked, then finally waved off the last touch-up before cameras rolled. But you didn’t say that.

You just stood there, mouth opening, then closing. Heat crawled up your neck.

“Seriously, wake up,” the manager added, already walking away.

You turned back to the rack slowly, biting the inside of your cheek. You stayed there longer than you needed to, pretending to refold a sleeve.

Lando was half-turned, frozen mid-step, having returned to grab his water bottle from the table. Watching the whole thing from the corner of the room. His face wasn’t playful anymore.

He didn’t say anything. Not yet. Not then. But he saw.

Later that night.

He hadn’t brought up the moment, didn’t mention the manager, didn’t say your name. But something in the way he spoke was different, more hesitant.

"Have you ever felt like… You missed something important? Like, you saw it too late?"

You blinked.

"All the time. Why?"

"Just wondering."

You didn’t push. Instead, you let the silence settle. And in the quiet, you started drifting further into something fragile. Not a fall. Just… a shift in gravity.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡

The event for one of the campaigns was running late.

The sun was brutal, the lighting was acting up, and the team was running on three cups of coffee and nerves. You were adjusting wardrobe pieces under the canopy tent, double-checking changes for the next setup. Nothing was sitting quite right on the new looks, and with how behind they were, everyone was snapping.

“I told you this was supposed to be a navy tone!” one of the creative leads barked, tossing a fabric swatch onto the table where you were laying out backup pieces.

You inhaled through your nose. Slowly.

“That's the navy one we talked about,” you said, as calmly as you could. “Lighting’s off because of the clouds, but under studio…”

“Don’t give me excuses, just get it fixed.”

You blinked. Opened your mouth. Closed it.

Lando had been off to the side, chatting with the photographer and sipping his iced drink. But the moment the words were thrown in your direction, you saw him pause. Look over. Then, surprisingly, walk over.

He didn’t make a big scene of it.

He just stepped beside you, picked up the swatch, and said, “This is the exact one we agreed on in pre-prod. I remember it. You even showed me. Let me try it on, it seems fine…” He smoothly put the watch on. “It’s perfect, see, right guys?” He looked around, asking, and people just nodded along.

You turned to him, caught off guard. You hadn’t even thought he’d noticed that moment, and barely anyone else had paid attention during those early meetings.

The creative lead faltered. “Well, we’re going with that then.”

“Maybe we can adjust the lighting before we blame the clothes,” Lando replied smoothly, his tone light but edged.

That was the thing about him. He didn’t yell. He didn’t need to.

He looked back at you, and for a split second, there was something different in his eyes. Not just amusement. Not just surface charm. It felt like recognition.

“I’m ready, let’s try it,” he said, and walked off toward the camera again, unfazed.

Your chest tightened. You didn’t know what to say. You just turned back to your rack, fingers suddenly a little shakier than before.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡

The late-night sim racing banter stayed. The usual trash talk and late-night race sessions didn’t stop. But somewhere between lap times and playlists, the space between you and Late started to feel… tender.

He sent you a song once and said it reminded him of your voice. You saved it. You started typing longer messages, shared pictures of your setup, and a photo of your karting helmet. He told you once he liked hearing your laugh in his headset. You never said it out loud, but you started smiling more around him.

You weren’t falling. Not really. You were just leaning, ever so slightly, toward someone you didn’t even know. Or thought you didn’t.

Which is why it stung a little too much when one night, somewhere between qualifying heats and midnight, he asked "Can I ask you something a bit random?"

"Sure, we already know how weird you are, don’t think I’ll be any more surprised."

You both chuckled.

"Is it weird to be attracted to someone you don’t really know that well?"

Your pulse jumped. "I think it can be. Why?"

"Just… there’s this girl. I think I misunderstood her. I think the more I pay attention, I’m starting to understand why she did the things the way she did."

You stared at the screen for too long. Long enough that he sent a follow-up.

"Sorry. That was probably weird."

"No, not weird. Just… is that the girl at work?"

"Ehhh… yeah."

You swallowed. You stared at the message so long, your screen dimmed.

Of course it was someone else.

Of course this was just banter to him. Jokes and playlists and soft 2 AM confessions, just part of the game. You thought maybe, just maybe, it was something else. Something quieter and slower and real. Like every other time in your life, you thought something good was going on, well, it’s not.

But apparently, he had someone in real life. Someone he was trying to understand. It just further frustrates you that the person happened to be the person he’s been complaining about. And you supported him, you always support each other.

You took a breath. Decided to go with something sarcastic, something defensive.

" I think it’s not weird at all. If you’re starting to understand her, that’s probably a good thing."

"You think?"

"Yeah. Sometimes people don’t show who they are right away. Doesn’t mean they’re not worth trying to know."

There was a pause, he was letting your words sink into his mind..

"I knew you’d say something smart like that."

"Someone’s gotta balance out your dumb."

He laughed, his usual, low one that always made you smile. But tonight, you didn’t. Not quite.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡

[yushi-ni]

ෆ NCT WISH RYO ෆ 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝖿

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ masterlist

ryo as your bf!!! ᢉ𐭩 lots of fluff, established relationship, mentions of pda. nothing more than adoration and cute little things!!

omg this is my first ryo post??? i’m sorry to all my ryo friends, idek why i never published something for him yet but it’s finally here!!! this is not proofread so please bare with me!!! hope you like it 🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️

──୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ──

ʚଓ young and passionate are the best words to describe ryo as your bf. it might be a little mix between excitement - intense feelings and emotional connections as you’re both young and experiencing lots of ‘first times’ as a couple together. even though you’re young and still figuring out what love actually is, it doesn’t matter as you’re both happy and excited to learn through and with each other!!!! (he’s just so cute and loveable)

ʚଓ ryo is the type of bf who easily goes with the flow. his love is blind and mute meaning he doesn’t easily see any flaws or complains when things go ‘wrong’. he’s very focused on you and your relationship together and just wants to be a good person for you as a bf but also for himself

ʚଓ now this won’t be a big surprise but ryo’s #1 love language is physical touch, he loves hugs with every fiber of his being. his arms will find their way around your body so naturally it’s almost as if he’s magnetic to you. at first you had to get used to the almost overwhelming - constant hugs and ryo back pack, he doesn’t always realise how clingy he is (not that that’s a bad thing!!!!) but as time went by you realised it’s just his way of showing affection. back hugs - side hugs - arms loosely wrapped around your middle - greeting hugs - goodbye hugs - i’m bored and just in need of attention hugs; he has them all in store for you!!!

ʚଓ definitely prefers calls over texts. he will also text you throughout the day but he just likes to actually hear your voice and possibly see your face rather than reading your words and imagining your voice in his head. whenever he is overseas for work or maybe you’re just too busy to see each other for a while, he’ll always make sure to call you before going to sleep. just to rant about his day or whatever is on his mind that moment. also expect random - short phone calls throughout the day. he just thinks it’s so much faster and easier to call and ask you directly instead of waiting for a reply. not that you mind, who wouldn’t want random ryo calls???

ʚଓ his clingy’ness aside; ryo is definitely a very casual - down to earth bf. he’s not overprotective nor does he feel the need to be with you 24/7. yes if he could he would have had his suitcase packed and ready to move in the second you started dating (jk) but he’s actually very ok with not seeing you for a couple days if your schedules just don’t align. he’s very sure about your relationship so he’s not worried about little things like that. he knows you both still have your own life and also need space to be your own individual person which really makes a difference in the way you view each other and your life together (and apart)

ʚଓ ryo remembers a lot of small things about you and your likings. he’s a really good listener (and it also helps he loves you sm he genuinely wants to know everything about you) and at times ‘surprises’ you with how much he actually remembers. will suddenly bring up something you mentioned a while ago, ask for updates about things you shared etc etc. he’s a very thoughtful and naturally curious person so his attention is always fully focused on you

ʚଓ ok let’s be real. sometimes he’s a little menace. he is the world’s biggest sweetheart but some days he just wants to play around and ‘annoy’ you. he’s still ryo afterall. he’ll tease you, poke your sides, copy your words in a funny accent etc etc. he likes to joke around but so do you, you play pranks on each other non stop. all very innocent little things but it definitely results in a lot of laughter shared between the two of you

ʚଓ (if you’re shorter than him) he’s the shortest out of his friend group so he absolutely loves your height difference. he feels like he can protect you (not that it’s necessarily needed but shhhh don’t burst his bubble!!). will definitely poke a little fun at your short height, but with adoration ofc. piggyback rides; for the love of god, pls jump on his back and wrap your legs around his middle. he thinks you’re the absolute cutest ever and will gladly carry you around at any time

ʚଓ ryo is very thoughtful when it comes to gift giving. yes he’ll bring random small things he found in the corner store as well but when it comes to special occasions he goes all out. anniversaries - xmas - birthdays - valentines day etc etc he puts a lot of time and effort in finding the perfect gift. will also ask sakuya to help him handcraft something like matching keychains - jewellery - bags etc

ʚଓ he likes taking pics of you but more than normal pictures, quickly snapped with his phone he loves doing photobooths with you. every outdoor activity - ice cream run - coffee date etc etc he’ll drag you to the nearest photobooth. he has a little album with all your pictures together (chronical order ofc) thinks it’s a fun way to keep physical memories alive!!!

ʚଓ won’t let you pay for anything, ever. going for a coffee? he’s paying. dinner or a cute brunch? card swiped before you can even take yours out of your wallet. a plushie you want to buy? he pays, no need to protest against it. for some reason, being able to pay and ‘provide’ for you in a small way like this makes him feel more secure and ‘manly’ if that makes sense (yk???) he just likes the thought of taking care of you in such manner

ʚଓ it’s very important to him that you get along well with his friends, especially sakuya. the two are almost a buy one get one free package deal so very early on in your relationship he introduced you to all his friends, you probably knew sakuya already from when ryo and you were still ‘just friends’ but he waited with the older hyungs, he just wanted to be sure you were actually a real thing before he took you home. his members ‘validation’ and acceptance is very important for him but luckily for him (and you) they all love you. you get along with every single one of them and sometimes ryo needs to fight for your attention and time whenever you come over to the dorm, that’s how fond they are of you!!!

ʚଓ ryo is still very young and new to this whole thing of love and relationships so at times he might be a little confused about certain things. he might not understand the importance of certain things but he’s very open and honest with you and himself as well. he is very big on communication and always encourages you to voice out your thoughts and feelings whenever something happens. also when it comes to cultural differences (if you’re not japanese yourself) you might notice that he needs some time to learn and adjust to the way you do things compared to how he does them. but he’s trying!!!!

ʚଓ fights don’t happen often. yes you do have little arguments or different opinions on certain issues but a real fight has never been the case. ryo can be very blunt and expressive in the heat of the moment, his mouth is faster than his brain so sometimes he says things before he can even think about the words leaving his mouth. he genuinely doesn’t mean any harm nor would he ever intentionally hurt you but it’s definitely a little issue every now and then. sometimes the both of you just want to get your point across without realising your words might come out in a rude way. you just need a little time apart to calm down before one of you apologises to the other, you always make up quickly so it doesn’t really get bigger than necessary. once again, communication is key!!!

ʚଓ ryo is very chill and easygoing. you want to go to the zoo? ofc!!! you want to stay in and watch movies all day? he’ll order take out for the both of you. you want to try out a new restaurant? he’s always down!! it doesn’t really matter what you do, as long as you get to spend time together. even the most normal - daily tasks are more fun and enjoyable when it’s the two of you. one of his fav things are late night walks. he loves strolling through the streets when the city is a little more quiet. his hand in yours, fingers intertwined as he swings you arms back and forth, just talking about his and your day. enjoying the fresh air (as much as that’s possible in korea) and peaceful time. oh and ofcooourse it always ends with a quick run to the convenience store to get ice cream on the way home!!!!!

ʚଓ the first time he took you to his hometown was a really big deal for him. he really wanted you to meet his family and show you around his home. ngl the time prior to the trip was definitely nerve wracking for him because he just wanted this to work out and be fun for both you and him. obviously you enjoyed every single moment of the trip and his parents were in awe of you. you have only known him in the chaos of seoul, his dorm, his busy work life etc etc so seeing him in the peaceful and loving environment of his own home was so special. you could clearly tell he was relaxed and happy to be there especially now he could bring you along as well. he was a completely different person, so carefree. so now he tries to take you home whenever he gets the chance. his home will definitely become a little escape from the real world, both you and him welcomed with open arms by his parents.

ʚଓ he loves sleepovers. more than the actual sleeping part he really enjoys getting ready for bed together. doing your skincare, putting on facemasks, brushing your teeth together etc etc. it’s the innocent feeling of excitement that gets him fr. he buys matching headbands for the both of you and loves that you’re just as excited as him!!!!

[questinwitchface]

I sent you one out too but apparently a lot of the ones I sent were eaten 😭 so just in case - Starting a little ask spiel. Send this to other folks if you'd like. What is your favorite Sam Wilson headcanon? What is your favorite SamBucky headcanon? ✨

Thank you for sending the second one because I didn't get the first, and it would've been kinda sad because this is a great ask!

Favorite Sam headcanon: Now you all know I'm a sucker for domesticity, and one of my favorite Sam headcanons is that he's very musical around the house. Like, he sings in the shower, doing the dishes, and folding laundry. He puts on a playlist and dances while he's cleaning - sweeping and mopping, vacuuming, dusting, etc. all take longer that way, but if he's actually having fun while he cleans, then it's worth it, isn't it? Also I think he'd have a collection of records because Mama and Daddy had a decent collection, and he'd kept his favorites, but he's also got a decent collection of tapes and CDs, too, because there's something nostalgic about listening to an old favorite song using the medium he used to listen to it all the time. I think that's technically a few headcanons in one, but "Sam is musical" felt too broad if I didn't elaborate, so I hope you don't mind! (Also, Sam can play piano because the pianist in his Daddy's church taught him for a few years when he was a kid.)

Favorite SamBucky headcanon: Sam and Bucky have a post-mission routine that includes a shower together where Sam washes Bucky's hair for him, and then, just before they head to bed, Bucky rubs Sam's sore shoulders for him. Idk, there's something so soothing and intimate about both of those acts. Bucky ducking his head and letting Sam gently scrub his fingers through his hair. Sam openly admitting where the sore spots are and letting Bucky work them out. So domestic and wholesome after a hard day's work.

[miimo96]

( This was originally supposed to be a video but due to a ton of rewrites as well as me not being able to open the video with the right words, i decided to go with this instead (at least for now)

1st off get that picture off, get that picture off right now that is NOT the Hulk we know we're going to see so let's stop lying okay? the person we're going to see is a guy who doesn't even deserve to be called the Hulk after the stuff he's been through, if anything his cousin is more hulk than him right now so that's number 1, Second of all, idk about you but Im so sick of seeing all these crossovers, Like Every move there's been a crossover, every freaking movie there's always been a crossover with someone from the mcu, I understand he's a crossover character but can we PLEASE just let him be in his own movie, don't give us anymore of these crossovers, especially with someone he's never even interacted or had chemistry with before, like can we plese just stop all this already marvel im so Sick of it;

it made sense for the 1st movie considering tony was the 1 to make his suit and nick has played a huge role in Peter's life in the ultimate comics, but after Doctor strange, i think we should've stopped right there, In my opinion spiderman just works way better as a solo hero rather than a crossover one and since people basically have no memory of Peter's existence there's literally no reason for this to happen other than to establish that he's still part of the mcu, like just let this be a street level story and let spiderman do his thing, don't give him anymore help because he doesn't need it,

if anything you should probably save the crossover stuff for things like avengers Doomsday or Secret wars since we know he could be making an appearance in that movie and because hulk and spiderman do play massive roles in that storyline, especially with 2 iconc shots like these, like can you imagine spidey teaming up with this guy in his next movie, no offense, but buddy probably has more chemistry with the guy that told him to do a Flip than he has with the Hulk himself 😅

In all seriousness tho i honestly hope he doesn't end up actually playing a big role and instead is just there to connect the post credit scene from shang chi like I've been hearing recently, Since we haven't gotten any updates on that for a long time, either that or maybe even have something to do with finally explaining how Peter actually got his powers in the mcu, since it's been theorized that Bruce might have played a role in someway, but anyway those are just my thoughts what do you guys think?

[metukika]

i wish this fic would write itself

[cescalr]

Oooh, definitely glee for the fandom asks! <3

Always with the hornets' nests with these ones, I see! Though i don't think there's a fandom out there that isn't in some way a hornets' nest once it gets large enough... hm. Alright. I'm just gonna be as honest as i can be about this, and tag accordingly.

Glee:

my favourite female character: augh. argh. ouph. so difficult. so hard. Since I'm working off of half-remembered show and half recently-rewatched show... its a tossup. Mercedes, Santana, Quinn. Probably Mercedes. She did nothing wrong ever in her entire life <3 well okay maybe except that one time she smashed kurt's car windows (but it was a banger song, though). Can't say Santana because of the Biphobia TM and other things like excessive use of bigotry-based insults, and Quinn. Oh god girl. Cheating is not cool! Funnily enough! So I find them really interesting but 'favourite' is hard to say. Mercedes. Mercedes for sure <3

my favourite male character: Blaine sam blaine sam blaine sam yes. I am imitating ripping petals off of flowers and coming to a conclusion based on which is the last name i said. So I guess that means Sam! But really this is a tie.

my favourite book/season/etc: Mannnnn idk. I don't like shows for seasons as-a-whole. Also i could not tell you what happened in any given season if you held a gun to my head. I'm not good at that. The only shows i know 'seasons' of are Buffy and Teen Wolf because i've watched them like 100000000000 times (exaggeration) for various reasons (mostly fanfiction research).

my favourite episode (if its a tv show): I can tell you my LEAST favourite episode (blame it on the alcohol, thank you Kurt king of biphobia! this is a persona foible it's not the worst episode in the show. by far. by far. it's kind of an average one. I'm just angry at it.) BUT er. Favourite? Idk. Genuinely some of the earlier Kurt-centric stuff was really well done (his convo with Burt... <3) and the Quinn giving birth accompanied by bohemian rhapsody was obviously iconic, but if I'll be honest I couldn't name any episodes of this show (other than That One previously stated, anyway). And yeah most of the time they were named after song titles and No i don't remember those song titles either. I'm just so bad at this. My memory is that of a goldfish's being haphazardly bounced around on a sieve.

my favourite cast member: it would be really funny if I said Demi Lovato [she counts!] but the truth is N/A: i don't know these people !!! They are strangers!! (i don't. follow celebrities. at all. I couldn't even name most of them. They're just people doing a job and their lives are irrelevant to me beyond their ability to perform that job well. I do not need to know where they live and what coffee they drink. Stalker shit tbh. I'm kind of a very private person myself, so rpf-adjacent stuff just... creeps me out. I've never watched a single cast interview in my lifetime and I'm not about to start!)

my favourite ship: Difficult to say! Grave and obvious lie. Blam. It's blam. Quintana is a close runner up though Santana really needs to stop dating people who cheat on the regular (I'll accept Quinn has grown enough not to do this by the time a Quintana coupling would be viable - and satisfying in terms of character arcs - narratively speaking).

a character I’d die defending: Blaine Anderson did something wrong for sure but like Kurt did it first so shrugs. Cancels out. Bad for each other! Case closed!

a character I just can’t sympathize with: genuinely don't remember if I had one of those the first time around because I was like 10 and just didn't pay attention if I didn't care, but Terri and her racist self take that 'prize' this time, alongside the obvious predator in the room [original choir teacher. Sandy? I forget his name immediately after hearing it. He doesn't deserve to be remembered]. Also JBI is just.... a yikes character all around. I mean, he's a blatant stereotype for one, in a the people who wrote this person don't like jews kind of way. Unfortunately common stereotype too, for the era, so not only is he that, he's also lazy. Just a one-note pervert who's the butt of various antisemitic 'jokes' you've heard from era-peer shows a million times over, tired and awful and a sour reminder of bigotry that continues to this day. Really regrettable character who's lack of redeeming qualities was probably purposeful. (I know Rachel and tina are also jewish, but this comes up very rarely and mostly only when santana needs to say something kind of fucked up, as is her modus operandi, for 'comic relief'. Tina's jewish-ness wasn't even canon for several seasons, because she didn't have a surname or a family or anything resembling complex character depth for several seasons. The one time I really remember Rachel's religion being important was when she was pressuring Kurt into believing in some kind of god, which??? don't do that. Bad example. Trying to guilt trip a friend into faith sucks. I take back what i said earlier Mercedes did that too. Boo. Girls try again that was a bad showing all around. Though i have no idea why Kurt went the acupuncture route as his 'secular' option but i think that has to do a lot with the writers doing literally no research ever once in their lives (you can tell they don't by the way they write the football segments of the show, which make no sense according to football fans who watch Glee, of which there are numerous because real life isn't like fiction where you can only like music or sports. Most of the kids in my school year were doing the most of everything ever if they were the 'popular' ones - we do that differently; popularity isn't really based on who know know; for some bizzare reason literally everyone knew who I was? Even people I'd never spoken to?? - but more about like... how much you can do, I guess. Overachievers, but I'm not saying that negatively; these people were generally - generally - very nice, and surprisingly chill for people who had no spare time whatsoever. I'm not entirely sure when they slept; A* across the board, at least one sport, at least one instrument, several extracurriculars, parties every weekend, dozens of friends and an s.o. . Eh? Way too much going on. Scary lifestyle! Impressive burnout rate, probably. Er. Tangent! Back to the scheduled programming).) There's uhhhh there's a lot of bad characters on the show, but i'd say Sandy and Terri and her equally but more loudly racist sister are truly completely irredeemable ones. Like they're not interesting or anything, they're just there to be narrative annoyances (which, in the case of Sandy specifically, is insane. Arrest that man!!! He has actively sexually assaulted minors!!!).

a character I grew to love: difficult to say because I tend to just make an opinion and stick to it. Also i don't remember who i liked at first and who i didn't, this show came out when i was eight. I didn't watch it until I was a little older than that, of course, but I frankly have spotty memory until my late teens, so! I'm not sure!! Quinn, probably. Pink-hair-era Quinn helped me understand her more, and seeing the moments of kindness hidden behind practical cruelty, when you understand her family and situation, makes things make a lot more sense. It takes a lot to get me to sympathise with a cheater, but I can see where Quinn was getting all turned around in her head about life because of her upbringing and socialisation, not to mention the profoundly negative impact cheerios had on her mentally and that the school's culture in general was not exactly a breeding ground for empathy and optimism.

my anti otp: can you tell (klaine). I don't dislike Kurt!!! Please let him have a fun chillaxed boyfriend in new york with his vogue friends. But also please stop attempting to control other people's diets thank you!! Thank you!! I'm of mixed feelings. Blaine and Kurt both did at least one bad, relationship-ending thing, and proved over and over again that they just weren't on the same wavelength in regards to life goals and ways of living it. They can't even share the same living space, which is kind of required for a functional marriage. I don't know, it just seems like they settled for their first proper, serious boyfriend even if that's not really the best match, and I... wish they'd just got to see more of life first, you know? They got married at like 20! Or something! I'm 23, I cannot imagine getting married at 20. That's a baby. Let them live first!

(same for Santana and Brittney, imo. I also don't really like them together because Santana and Brittney have very different ideas regarding monogamy, which is just never going to go down well in the long run. If your girl cheats on you like twenty times and tells you to your face its not cheating in her view of things, but you think it is, break up with her because you'll just make each other miserable. Brittney sort of seems incapable of feeling guilt but if she were, this kind of moral pressure would be Not Good, and obviously Santana isn't comfortable with the idea and doesn't have to be!! Just move on!!! Find other people!!!! Don't marry your first girlfriend if you've broken up like ten times this is simple!!!! Please!!!! But Klaine wins out over Brittana because - in my opinion, glee fandom please do not persecute me, I am known for this specific thing - I see... interactions that verge on abusive between Klaine that I don't see in Brittana. So. Oof? Ex; use of public perception to disguise attack; deliberately hurting Blaine in a stage-combat fencing match (you are not meant to make actual contact in these) and thus using Blaine's own dislike of making his difficulties common knowledge against him in order to 'punish' him. This is no good! Don't do this!!.[Also just to err vaguepost about a comment.... that is. not. what i would call passive aggressive. Physically attacking someone with a sword - no matter the type of sword, fencing foils hurt just as much, they're just not stab-you sharp... er, these days - is just straight-up aggressive.]).

Note that negative things stick in the mind better than positive ones; on a rewatch I may well alter my opinion!

But also I'm really, really stubborn. So it's not likely. Klaine.

[apocalypticdemon]

hmm. spiraling. fun.

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

.

[savage-rhi]

been trying to conjure the words for a while, but as someone who’s got family who’s also going through some really tough shit involving mental health work, i just wanna say i’m so sorry you lost your job—but you won’t ever have to work with these people again, at least!

definitely look into legal routes, don’t be afraid to ask for support, and don’t give up. and be sure to rest and recuperate, etc. ableism is insidious as fuck, but you can rise above the lows it throws your way!

(hopefully that all was worded somewhat gracefully. i just am so sorry you’re experiencing this shit, man. but you’ll make it out alive! ❤️)

You don't have to worry about wording things gracefully hon. I know you mean well and didn't see anything here that was warranted as an offense.

Thank you for the condolences. This is one thing I'm hanging onto, that I don't have to work with these people ever again.

I will do everything within my skillset and empathy to never dehumanize or treat anybody the way I was treated as a mental health provider. I'd like to think I do a good job of that already, creating a brave space for people, and this experience nailed it in that I won't allow myself to stoop to this level of being insidious as fuck to a human being.

I don't know the full context of what your family member is going through, but hearing that, I hope they get through the ordeal especially if they are dealing with folks who do not have their best interests in mind.

Thank you again for the condolences and for checking in 💙🫂

[arolesbianism]

Combining ego gifts is my favorite activity. You have six ego gifts? No you don't. Get stylized idiot