Packing

Summary: can I ask for an imagine where you break up with slash because it just doesn’t work out anymore? And it’s just really sad but the best for the both of them?

Requested: yes by anon

Warnings: mentions of cheating

As much as Y/N wished to make things right with Saul, she knew that there was no going back. The two of them had just grown apart when the band got famous. When they were just playing the clubs, Y/N thought she would be okay with the girls throwing themselves at him.

She was there to keep them away. Then he went on tour, and Y/N didn’t know if he was staying faithful or not. She knew that she had accused him of cheating several times in the last few months. Each time without any proof.

Then there was him ignoring her and forgetting to call home, and when he was home, he avoided her like the plague. And when they talked, they were yelling at each other, accusing both of cheating and not trusting each other.

Y/N now stood in the house, packing everything that was hers. She loved this house. She had picked it out with Saul back when they were beginning to talk about marriage and thinking about having kids. That was out the window, but she was moving in with a friend until she could get back on her own feet.

She went back to back folding up the last of her clothes. This was the last of it in Saul’s house, and she was hoping to get out of here before he came back. She really didn’t want to see him.

She thought about the last fight they had.

***

“Where the hell have you been?” Saul yelled.

“I went out with friends,” Y/N replied. “It’s not like the times you go on tour and fuck around with a bunch of groupies.”

Saul threw his hands up. “Jesus, Y/N! Not this again. I’m not cheating on you,” he said.

Saul glared at her, and she glared right back. She knew that she shouldn’t be accusing him of cheating with no proof, but she suspected that he was for several months. Then Saul had started accusing her of the same, and really she wasn’t. At least not sober.

Her friends had taken her out for a girls’ night, and she had gotten a little too drunk and ended up kissing a stranger. It didn’t go too far past that, and she felt terrible. The only thing that had stopped her from going too far was a friend had walked in on her and took her home.

“I don’t know how many times that I have to tell you that I haven’t cheated on you and that I never would,” he argued.

That stopped her in her tracks because she could hear the hurt in his voice. “It’s because I can’t trust myself,” she said weakly.

Saul had been pacing around the living room when she finished her sentence. “What do you mean?” he asked frozen in his spot.

***

Why had Y/N opened her mouth? She had told him what happened and how she felt. In all honesty, she had convinced him that they would try to work things out. They had done absolutely everything they could and try to make things better, but nothing they did worked.

So here she was carrying the last of her bags out to her car just as Saul was pulling up. Y/N sighed and tried to not cry again especially in front of him.

“Hey,” he said awkwardly.

“Hey,” she replied just as nervously.

“So, uh, you got all of your stuff?” Slash asked.

“Yeah, I did,” she answered.

“Well, good,” he said. He wasn’t be rude. He just didn’t seem to know what else to say, and she didn’t either.

“I’ll see you around, I guess,” she said, shutting the trunk of her car.

“You know I don’t hold a grudge against you,” Slash called out before she got to the driver’s side of the car.

“And I’m just so sorry for what I did,” she said.

More than Friends

Summary: can you do a slash imagine where slash hates her and she’s friends with Steven so they see each other a lot and they start becoming friends and then become lovers with some smut.

Requested: yes by anon

Warnings: sex

To say that Slash disliked Y/N was an understatement. Every time she was around him, he had some snide, rude comment about her, and she never understood why. There was nothing that she could think of to bring on his wrath and to have it all directed towards her.

And in all honesty, she would rather not hang out with him, but her best friend was friends with him too. Y/N couldn’t say no to Steven sometimes, so she tried her best to just play nice with Saul and act as if his comments didn’t affect her like it did.

She sat in the living room that Steven and his band shared in their apartment. It was kind of small, but it was all that they could afford at the moment. Plus, she wasn’t judging. She lived in an even tinier apartment and could barely afford it all on her own.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Saul asked, annoyance ringing in his voice.

“Steven invited me over, okay?” she replied. “I don’t know why you are so annoyed by the fact that my friend wants to me over.”

Saul hugged and sat down on the couch. “Oh, come on! You just want in his pants because he is in a band,” he retorted.

“You know I went to high school with you too. And I was friends with him then. And what I don’t get is that you have always treated me like I’m some chick out to get you,” she argued. “I have never been anything but nice to you, and yet I’m beneath you for some reason!”

Saul looked at her as if trying to measure his reaction. “That wasn’t nice,” he pointed out.

“Well, get over it. After all these years, I feel like I have the right to chew you out over the shit that you have done to me,” Y/N shot back.

Saul started to laugh, and when she glared at him, he said, “Look, I’m not laughing at you. I’m just laughing because you’re cute when you’re mad.”

“Shut up!” Y/N yelled.

***

After that day, Saul actually started to be nicer. Well, to an extent. He would still have his smartass responses, but Y/N had grown used to it and learned that it was just a quirk about him. What was odd was when they started to hang out without Steven around. They would be around each other more and more often and not have anyone else around.

She smiled as she sat down next to Saul as they absently watched TV. There wasn’t anything good on, but it was a rainy day and everyone else was out working at their own jobs.

“You know I still want to know why you were so mean to me,” she said.

“Uh, to be honest, I didn’t want to like the girl that was hanging around Steven,” Saul said.

“Wait! You liked me?” Y/N asked, shocked.

“Yeah, but I didn’t want to piss him off,” he replied.

Y/n looked at him and rolled her eyes. “So you decided to piss me off instead,” she pointed out.

It was kind of a shock to her that he was admitting this to her. There had always been an attraction to him on her part since knowing him, but she had never acted on those feelings because of how he was.

Saul laughed. “Well, I didn’t know what else to do,” he said.

“You could have just told me how you felt.” Y/N looked over at him, wondering if he was going to act out on them now. Or if he had changed his mind about her.

“Oh, and what would that have gotten me?” Saul asked her.

Y/N looked at him and decided to say screw it. She leaned into him and brushed her lips against his. “This,” she whispered.

She felt Slash smile as he kissed her back. She moved her hands to his shoulders and held herself against him as he deepened the kiss. His tongue brushed across her top lip. As he grabbed onto her hips, he pulled her into his lap.

Their tongues tangled together as Y/N tugged his shirt off. They were both rubbing against each other and pulled each other’s clothes off which it didn’t take long to have them both naked. Saul moved her around to where she was underneath him on the couch.

“Saul,” she pleaded as he pulled off her panties.

He slid them of her feet and kissed his way back up her body. He gave her a few licks on her center before coming up the rest of the way. They were both so ready with no need for foreplay at that moment.

Saul had himself lined up and pushed into her deeply. They both groaned at the feel of the other, but Saul didn’t hesitate to pick up the pace. Soon he was pounding into her and causing her to get closer and closer to her orgasm.

“Saul, I’m so close,” she whined.

He groaned and pushed harder into her. “Do it, love. Cum on me,” he demanded. “Want to feel you.”

His words were what did it. She felt her orgasm lock onto him as he rode her through it all. She rocked her hips against him, trying to encourage him to orgasm as well. It didn’t take long for her to feel him spurting inside of her.

He collapsed on her, giving her a complete feel of his full weight. She could feel his pounding heart against his chest, and she panted right along with him.

She smiled and rubbed his back a little as they both calmed down.

“So you two are finally friends,” Steven asked from the front door.

Y/N gasped and buried her face in Saul’s curly hair. She felt like she was going to die of embarrassment in that exact moment. Of course, Steven had to walk in right when she was making love with Slash.

“I say we are more than friends,” Saul corrected.

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dazecrea

5 months ago

not for sale (mingyu x reader).

⤿ a four-part series featuring celebrity!mingyu and small business owner!reader.

𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 —

💍 part one, or SELLING POINT.

your small business sees a sudden skyrocket in sales and your loyal customer 'k mg' might just be the one to blame.

💍 part two, or A STEAL.

mingyu tries to talk himself out of his crush on you. it doesn't really work.

💍 part three, or FOR WHAT IT'S WORTH.

your business is presented with the opportunity of a lifetime, but you're on the fence about taking it.

💍 part four, or CLOSING THE DEAL.

mingyu is all in. are you?

ⓘ celebrity!mingyu, small business owner!reader, fluff, romance. cussing/swearing. more tags to be added.

with love, kae ✎ @maplegyu and i lovingly call not for sale our middle child because, at any given moment, we have at least four kmg stories in the works 😆 i was in love with this plot the moment she made the req, and so there's not a single doubt in my mind: this one is all yours, maple.

part two's estimated post date is january 2025, while part three and four should be out in february 2025. see you all for not for sale!

› scroll through all my work ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ my masterlist | @xinganhao

1K notes View Post

dazecrea

4 months ago

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞´𝐬 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐬 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨 𝐀𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞.

In the 1950s, the Wayne family arrives at their new home on the outskirts of Gotham City. As the family settles in, the children—Dick and Jason—seek adventure and cause trouble while their mother tries to keep the house standing for the visit of special guests, all while also trying to hide her magical abilities.

Can they get through the first day of their new life while the father of the family is away on business?

chapters: 1 (you are there) - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - epilogue.

English is not my first language, please be patient. Update 1/25/2025: I did a review and correction of this chapter because I was starting to feel embarrassed, and it seems that you like this story because today I receive notifications of the publications. So I'm going to do a review of all the parts so that if you reread it, it will hurt your eyes less. Thank you very much for the love and I hope to improve with these corrections!!!

WORDS: 7243

𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓.

You looked at your youngest son, Jason, smiling at you from under one of the trees on the new property your family had just moved into. You smiled back at him, genuinely happy, and held out your arms to him. The little five-year-old ran to you immediately.

That tree—you had to get him away from that tree.

“Mom, this new house is huge,” the boy said happily as you rested him on your hip, without worrying about ruining the neat ironing of your beautiful dress.

“It is,” you began. “Your father and I learned our lesson about you and your brother's incompatibility with small yards after the Halloween fire incident,” you explained, and the audience laughed at the past antics of the Wayne children. Jason smiled innocently as he thought about the incident, even if he didn't remember it. He had been very young at the time—surely that was why. “So, your father made sure there was plenty of room for both of you to run around in this new house.” You turned on the spot, starting to walk toward the house.

The scene changed, and you both appeared walking in through the kitchen door immediately. You walked over to the island and sat Jason there. He immediately reached over to grab the glass cookie jar in the center of the surface, eager to eat one of Alfred's famous cookies.

“Don’t eat too many of those, young Master,” the butler said as he appeared from an unidentified door. You smiled at him as he came to stand next to you in front of little Jason. “Tonight, we have guests, and I’m preparing some of the family’s favorite dishes,” the man commented while confiscating the cookie jar, leaving only the one cookie the boy had managed to grab before his appearance for him to eat.

You frowned in confusion.

“Guests?” you asked, puzzled, as you didn’t remember planning anything. Alfred, on his way to hide the cookies, turned to look at you.

“The guests Mr. Wayne asked us to entertain in his absence, Mrs. Wayne. Do you remember, ma’am?” the butler questioned before leaving through the door that led to the living room, without waiting for an answer.

You stood in place, bringing your hand dramatically up to your face as if deep in thought. Jason decided to interrupt his eating to mimic your expression, prompting laughter and tender sighs from the audience. Seeing him, you laughed too and leaned closer to your child.

“Do you remember which guests Alfred is talking about, my boy?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

“Nope,” Jason replied sweetly, shrugging his shoulders, eliciting even more tenderness from the audience. You couldn’t help but feel a sudden urge to hug your beautiful baby tightly while kissing his cheek, and your son just laughed happily at your actions.

Alfred walked back into the kitchen as you lowered the boy from the counter to stand on the floor next to you. The scene momentarily blinded the audience before they saw the little boy run out of the kitchen with his cookie in hand, brushing past the butler and causing him to smile.

“I guess we have to prepare for those guests then,” you said, resting your hands on your hips and sighing dramatically. “Do you already know what you will cook for our guests, Alf?” you asked, intending to help.

You frowned in confusion.

“Guests?” you asked, puzzled, as you didn’t remember planning anything. Alfred, on his way to hide the cookies, turned to look at you.

“Do you remember which guests Alfred is talking about, my boy?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

“Don’t worry about a thing, Mrs. Wayne,” the butler commented, walking over to you and standing behind you to begin pushing you towards the door where Jason had disappeared with his cookie. “I’ll take care of everything, and nothing will go wrong tonight. You just relax and spend some time with young master Jason.” When he reached the door, Alfred stopped pushing, expecting you to make it the rest of the way out of the kitchen alone, but you turned around and insisted.

“You don’t want any magical help; it will be easier this way. Besides, I already have my apron on,” you said, smiling and pointing at your outfit while making a gesture to emphasize your powers at the same time.

“Goodbye, Mrs. Wayne,” Alfred said as he pushed you through the kitchen door.

You walked out with a push, but as you crossed the threshold, you didn’t stumble; instead, you walked calmly into an unmarked hallway and entered the living room. You looked back, confused by the strange change, but all doubt was erased from your mind when you saw your little one sitting in front of the television in one of the armchairs. You sighed loudly.

“That man has always been very territorial about his kitchen,” you commented, and the audience laughed. As you walked toward the armchair, Jason looked at you when he heard you approaching. “Jason Peter Wayne,” you exclaimed without any aggression, more amused by the chocolatey mess on your son's face than angry. He looked at you with puppy eyes in response. “My little boy and his precious chocolate cookies,” you said accusingly. With a dramatic gesture of both hands, Jason's face was clean again, the crumbs on his lap and the armchair disappeared, all accompanied by a sound of bells to represent magic.

“My mother and her magical magic,” the child said mischievously, prompting the audience to laugh again as you shook your head at his behavior, not stopping to look at him lovingly. You had missed him, which was strange because you didn't remember being separated from him much since he had come to you.

“Jason, honey,” you began, realizing that something was missing from the scene. “Do you have any idea where your brother went?” you asked, suddenly worried about the fate of your eldest son.

“I saw him looking for his comics in his new room a while ago,” Jason answered, and at that instant, a knock was heard, followed by a childish cry. Alfred appeared down the hall, attracted by the noise, while you quickly marched towards the threshold on the other side of the room, leaving Jason with the butler behind.

You entered a sort of entrance hall, featuring the main door of the house, some decorative furniture, and a coat rack with four coats perfectly hung—one for each member of the family, the largest being Bruce’s. Bruce was on a business trip. On the other side of the threshold were stairs leading to the second floor, where you found your eldest son, his comic book abandoned at the foot of the last step, and him curled up with a bleeding knee a little higher up.

“Dikie, my dear,” you quickly approached him, crouching down in front of him while you examined his wound. “What happened?” you asked while sitting next to him to hug him against your side. Seeing that his crying did not stop with your presence, he did not answer immediately and kept sobbing. “Alfred!” you called, not too loudly because it was not necessary, and it worked. Immediately, Alfred crossed the threshold through which you had just come. “Bring the first aid kit,” you told him, and he nodded before disappearing again.

While all this was happening, Dick's mind was racing a thousand miles an hour. He didn’t understand the world around him, its size, and its lack of colors. Why had he been running up the stairs in the first place? He couldn't remember, and that scared him. Contradictory ideas of what had happened crossed his mind until he finally saw the comic lying at the foot of the stairs, and it occurred to him.

“I-I found my—my comic and…” he began to say between sobs, but he was unable to finish piecing together the events of the day. Realizing this, you decided to finish the sentence for him while you caressed his hair affectionately.

“And so much excitement in one day made you decide to run down the stairs?” you asked, and the boy pulled away from you to nod as he wiped his tears with the sleeve of his extremely expensive wool sweater.

“My knee hurts,” he commented with a soft voice, looking where his hand was, which was where he assumed there must be a wound. As if summoned by his words, Alfred appeared with a small medicine briefcase.

“Here you are, Mrs. Wayne,” he said as he handed you the object, which you were sure was red but wasn't.

"Let's see what we have here," you said, and as you opened it, you found just what you needed: a bandage with drawings of birds. "Perfect," you said, smiling as you left the now-empty suitcase to proceed to put the bandage on the wound. Dick didn’t see any blood or a wound at all; his mother wouldn’t let him get hurt. Still, he went along with the story and looked at his mother.

You were beautiful. He had always thought you were the prettiest mother in the world, along with… another person. His father couldn’t agree more, and if he saw you now, he would probably drool, which he and Jason made fun of him for. Jason, his little brother.

What had happened to Jason?

As if Dick's thought were an alarm, the little boy with curly hair and a cheerful smile entered through the same doorway Alfred had come through, looking at his brother with a worried expression. A sudden wave of relief washed over Dick because Jason was there, safe and sound, walking quickly toward him when he saw that his older brother was distraught. But it was strange to see him like that, so young, that for a moment he wondered if it was really Jason. But looking into his eyes, it was unmistakable that this five-year-old boy was his younger brother. There was no doubt.

"Are you feeling better, Dikie?" you asked affectionately when you noticed how your older son’s body relaxed when his younger brother appeared in the room. You mentally chastised yourself for not having brought him earlier; surely Dick had been worried that his brother was okay. You caressed his back as you looked at him carefully.

"I..." Dick was silent for a moment. He looked at you and then at his little brother, and then he realized something. "I'm fine. Everything is fine, Mom," he finally said, looking at you, feeling completely comfortable being there and happier than he had been in a long time.

You smiled at your son when you realized that the three of you were finally together, with Alfred watching from the doorway with a mixture of emotions that he didn’t let you see.

Dinner was underway; Alfred, as always, was on time for the arrival of the guests, while you were in Jason's room, helping him finish putting on his elegant sweater for the occasion. Dick came through the door already fully dressed. The eight-year-old boy didn’t need your help getting dressed, but no doubt you had helped him choose his clothes—that’s how you always did.

“Mom,” Dick called while in his brother's room, somewhat confused by the situation but not letting that feeling of relief and heady calm go. He liked that feeling.

“Yes, honey?” you turned around, causing the new dress you had put on for the occasion to flourish in the air with elegance. As soon as you laid eyes on your eldest son, you had to contain a small “aww” at how cute your little man looked. “Look at you, my little bird.” You approached him, bending down to adjust his jacket so he could hide the suspenders, leaving only a little of the shirt visible. “One day you are going to be a heartbreaker,” you commented, wrinkling your nose with tenderness.

“Mom,” Dick grumbled sheepishly, looking down as his cheeks turned pink, though no one could see the color yet.

“Is Dick going to be a jar breaker?” Jason asked from where he was sitting on the bed, causing the audience to laugh.

"No, Jaybird," Dick began, turning away from his mother and walking over to his brother's bed to sit next to him. "Heartbreaker, as in hearts," he explained patiently as Jason watched him intently, hanging on every word his older brother said. It reminded Dick of when he used to look at him while they both... they used to...

"That means," you sat across from Jason, watching as your son left his place inside his mind to return to the moment, "that your brother will have a lot of girlfriends and boyfriends one day," you explained to him while you tucked a rebellious strand that had fallen on the forehead of your youngest son back in its place.

"Is that good?" he asked, confused. "Because Alfred always gets mad when we break his jars." The innocent tone caused the audience, you, and Dick to laugh. As they did, Dick remembered why he had gone to find his mom in the first place.

“Mother?” he asked. You stopped laughing and gave him that look you always give when you want to say: Tell me anything. You can tell me anything and ask any question without fear. “What's so important today?” he asked curiously.

“Oh!” you exclaimed as you put your hands on your lap, thinking about what to say because the truth is you weren't very sure what tonight's dinner was about. “Well, it's a very important dinner for your father,” you commented with confidence.

“Why is this dinner important to Dad?” Jason asked, now concentrating on the reason for the conversation because he wanted to know too. He puzzled you with the question as well, because you weren't too sure either.

“Well, your father invited some very important people to dinner,” you stated as confidently as you could. If you showed that you didn't know what was going on, your children would panic, and you wanted them to feel safe. They were safe as long as they were there with you.

“Who are the guests?” Jason asked, immediately followed by his older brother.

“And why are they so important?” Dick spoke. Jason nodded at his brother's question, showing his approval.

“Well…” you weren't sure what to say.

“Is it for a birthday?” Jay asked.

“No, it's not anyone's birthday,” you clarified, more to yourself than to the children, trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle before explaining to your children the importance of the occasion.

“Is it an anniversary?” Dick asked now.

“No, it's not that either,” you said, putting your hand to your chin while you thought. The audience laughed.

“A holiday?” the elder asked again.

“Is it because of the ‘adult business’?” Jason asked, disappointed. He hated the adult business meetings they had when Bruce was home, and immediately a light went on in his head.

“Yes,” you said, happily soothing, looking back at the children. “It's certainly a business meeting, so you must behave yourselves.” You bent down and finished arranging your youngest son's hair. “Okay?” You looked at them seriously; your children had a habit of getting into trouble when these meetings happened, mainly because they were bored.

“Yes, Mom,” they both said in chorus, which brought a smile to your face.

“Okay,” you finished the conversation about dinner. “Dick, can you help your brother put on his shoes while I go prepare the table for our guests?” you asked, and the boy silently nodded in response. “Perfect, I'll see you when you're ready,” you said as you left the room.

Dick and Jason stood there in silence for a moment. Dick wasn't sure what to do, first because he didn't know where you kept Jason's shoes, and second because he felt lost without you there; you were the main story of the show, so he wasn't sure what was next. Jason was the one who would be in charge of guiding him quickly.

“Dick,” called the younger brother.

“Yes, Jason?” asked Dick, somewhat confused by the mischievous gleam in his little brother's eyes.

“I saw Alfred go with the cookie jar back to the kitchen to hide it,” he began, as a smile spread across his face. Dick smiled back as he nodded at the silent implication of that phrase. He now knew what they must do.

In the dining room, a room with a large window facing the patio and a table with eight chairs, you used your magic to make the plates fly to the table, followed by the utensils and the wine glasses. You were preparing only five places at the table because Alfred had insisted on not being part of the dinner tonight so that he could attend to the important guests in the best possible way, and you were not one to argue against the butler's wishes.

You had barely convinced him to let you set the table for dinner. He was very adamant that you should spend time with your kids for some reason; he probably just wanted to rest from the stressful move. Yes, it was probably just that.

DING DONG.

“The guests are here,” you said to yourself, making sure to place the last flowers in the vase on the head table. They were white roses, and then you smoothed down the front of your dress before walking into the room.

You were nervous because you still didn't know who these guests were and what they wanted, but you were confident that if Bruce had sent them, it would be fine. So, you smiled as you entered the entrance hall to receive the couple. It was a plump, white-haired couple in their fifties, but they seemed to be in good shape, and particularly the woman looked like she had a lot of energy; her print dress complemented her image. The man seemed serious, like all businessmen; he didn't even smile when you greeted him and invited them to sit in the living room while dinner finished preparing.

“It's a pleasure to have you here, Mr. and Mrs…” you paused in your sentence when you realized that you didn't know the names of your guests.

“Mr. Hart and I are very happy to be the first guests invited to your new home, Mrs. Wayne,” Mrs. Hart replied as everyone sat on the couch.

“Where is Mr. Wayne?” Mr. Hart asked seriously. “You can't have a business dinner if the businessman isn't in the house,” he complained, waving his arms around to show the room. You laughed nervously at his insistence; he wasn't the first person that day to ask where Bruce was and make you uncomfortable for some reason.

“Well, my beloved husband had a last-minute business trip,” you started explaining. “But he left me and our children in charge to receive you for dinner,” you said, smiling and trying not to show your lack of certainty about the totality of the situation.

“Oh, the Wayne kids!” Mrs. Hart exclaimed dreamily. “I'm so excited to meet you!” She took your hands and squeezed them comfortingly.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Alfred had gone to the dining room to set up the table with the appetizers, leaving the place unattended where two small pairs of feet entered without making much noise with a precise aim: to cause trouble.

“I adore children, even though Mr. Hart and I never had our own,” the woman explained wistfully, looking at her husband, who instead of sharing his story was looking around with a frown. But she paid no attention to him and continued talking to you.

In the kitchen, Dick was helping his younger brother up onto the counter next to the stove, where a pot of hot soup was ready to be served. Once Jason was firmly on his feet, he quickly took it upon himself to climb up as well to stand next to him, and they began opening the cabinets for cookies.

“Tell me: What are their names? And how old are they?” Mrs. Hart asked, excited about the topic of conversation.

“My oldest son is Richard, but everyone calls him Dick,” you started to explain.

“Children can be cruel,” Mr. Hart commented candidly, and the audience laughed. The joke took you by surprise, but you decided to ignore it and continue.

“He's eight years old; he'll be nine in December,” you continued. “And Jason, he'll be six in August,” you finished with a smile, thinking about how your youngest son would be another year older.

Dick opened one of the cabinets on the stove, stood on tiptoe as he maneuvered the cabinet door open, and peered inside for the cookie jar, but he began to lose his balance just as Alfred set the appetizers down on the table and started on his way to the living room to announce that dinner was ready.

“They sound adorable; I can't wait to meet them!” Mrs. Hart enthused.

"They are adorable, and they are very good kids too," you said with a bright smile.

BAAM.

Dick ended up losing his balance while trying to close the cupboard door again, and the pot of soup crashed to the floor, staining the entire kitchen with its creamy texture, including your two children, who were now covered in food, ruining their clothes and staining their faces.

“Mrs. Wayne,” Alfred called, successfully hiding his concern, which you couldn't do very well because, at the sound, your eyes widened at the multiple scenarios running through your head about what could have caused the noise.

“Yes, Alfred?” you answered with a small voice.

“What was that?” Mr. Hart asked irritably.

“I think it's time to guide our guests to the table and go find the young masters,” he commented calmly, to which you quickly jumped out of your chair.

“YES!” you yelled. “Great idea, Alfred.” You turned to the guest couple, who looked more than confused. “Mr. and Mrs. Hart, follow Alfred into the dining room and enjoy the appetizers while I go find the kids, who I'm sure are somewhere in the house being on their best behavior,” you said, and the audience laughed.

“Everything is alright?” Mrs. Hart asked as you left the room.

“Yes, yes, everything is in order; nothing to worry about,” you answered a little too quickly before running out of the room.

Jason and Dick looked at each other, knowing that nothing good could come of this. But when they tried to get down, the younger one slipped on the soup that had stained the counter under his feet. Dick rushed to try to catch him, but he also slipped on the ground. As both children fell, all their weight rested on the refrigerator, which, in turn, tipped sideways to hit a piece of furniture that fell forward and pushed another piece of furniture full of fine china that fell sideways, causing the door to lock and letting all the plates and glasses crash to the floor, creating even more noise.

CRASH.

You leaned your whole body against the door as you reached it, only to find that it wouldn't open in the slightest; something was blocking it.

“Boys?” you called through the door. “Boys, are you there?” you asked.

“Here we are, Mom, and we're fine,” said Dick from his place still on the counter. They couldn't get down now; the floor was not only slippery but also covered in sharp glass. He wouldn't risk Jason getting hurt.

“We tried Alfred's soup,” Jason said. “It's delicious.” The audience laughed, but you were anything but amused by the situation.

“Oh dear,” you sighed, visualizing your children covered in soup at a less-than-opportune moment. “Why can't I open the door?” You tried to push, but whatever was blocking your way was too heavy for you.

“A large piece of furniture fell in front of the door, and the floor is full of glass. We can't get close,” Dick explained regretfully. They didn't want to cause such a mess; they just wanted the cookies, and they hadn't even found them.

“What happened?” Alfred asked, coming to your side.

“A piece of furniture is blocking the door, the soup is on the floor, and the crockery has now turned into very expensive confetti,” you quickly explained, turning to look at him.

“Okay, Mrs. Wayne, it's time to use your magic and solve this problem,” he said.

“But you don't like magic being used in your kitchen,” you replied, confused.

“Considering that the crockery has been smashed, the soup is used as a rug, and the young masters are still trapped in there, if we don't open the door right now, there probably won't be any kitchen to take care of tomorrow, Mrs. Wayne,” he explained quickly, and that made perfect sense to you.

“Good point,” you said. The audience laughed as you got into position to use your magic, but when you moved your hands, nothing happened. You tried again, and still nothing happened. “It doesn't work,” you repeated the movement in a desperate attempt, but again nothing happened. “What's going on!?” you asked desperately.

“I told you to rest today, Mrs. Wayne; it's probably the stress,” Alfred said quickly, consoling you.

“Oh, this is not good,” you said.

“Ms. Wayne?” Mrs. Hart yelled from the dining room.

“Just a second,” you replied with a fake cheerful tone before looking back at the butler. “What are we going to do?” you asked.

“Don't worry; I'll look for the keys to the door that leads to the patio while you distract the guests,” Alfred said and walked in the opposite direction. You went to follow him, but you realized that you had to go the other way, so you turned to walk to the dining room. The audience laughed.

In the living room, you sat at the table with the guests, starting to eat the appetizers. They tried to pretend that nothing was wrong, but Mr. Hart was suspicious, and it was clear by the way he looked at you. His wife was more than happy to ignore it.

“And the children?” Mrs. Hart asked as she bit into one of her meatloaf pies.

“Oh, they're finishing up their toys before they eat,” you explained as you finished pouring some wine into your glass.

“But you should eat first,” said Mrs. Hart sweetly.

“Nonsense, my dear,” interrupted Mr. Hart. “Two children with a father not present for business; these two need a steady hand, or they will become good for nothing. It's fair: if they don't pick up their toys, they don't eat.” He stuffed a whole canapé into his mouth roughly.

“I wouldn't say they don't eat,” you defended. “But if you have to order before eating because they definitely won't do it later, they always get sleepy.” You finished explaining and drank from your glass of wine. “Also, most of the time, they are very well-behaved children,” you added.

“Most of the time?” questioned Mr. Hart suddenly.

Alfred entered the room quietly. He passed behind you, giving you a meaningful look: you had to keep distracting the Harts because he still hadn't found the key.

“Well, they are children; you know how they are,” you commented, laughing, but the serious face of Mr. Hart told you that the man did not enjoy jokes much, so you continued, “All children have their moments of curiosity.” Alfred walked out of the room back into the hallway. “And that curiosity can get to—” BAM! CRASH! The butler had to use force to pry open a particularly jammed drawer. “Accidents; something always ends up breaking.” You let out a nervous laugh.

“Ms. Wayne,” Alfred called as he stood in the doorway.

“Yes, Alfred?” you yelled, unable to stop looking at Mr. Hart, who was watching you suspiciously.

“The young masters want you to confirm that their toys are tidy and that they are free to sit down to dinner,” he said neutrally, but you knew right away what he meant.

“Of course, you have to see those toys,” you joked as you got up from the table.

“Make sure it's neatly arranged in alphabetical order,” demanded Mr. Hart, and you couldn't help but give him a look for that.

“Don't talk nonsense,” his wife told him. “Go find them,” he told you happily. “I can't wait to meet those little angels,” he encouraged you.

“I'll do that,” you answered with the same enthusiasm and walked down the hall with Alfred until you reached the kitchen door.

“The keys to the patio door are nowhere to be found,” he began to explain, “and I'm afraid the cabinet is too stuck in front of the door to try to push it.”

“Oh dear, oh dear,” you started to babble.

“Mrs. Wayne, you need to calm down,” Alfred requested.

“The children are locked in the kitchen, along with the food, and our guests are waiting in the dining room,” you pointed out. “I think it's a good time for a little panic, Alfred.”

“Panic is not going to get us out of this situation,” Alfred pointed out, which caught your attention, and you looked at him, but the man ignored you. “Getting the children out requires us to be focused,” he clarified, and you decided to ignore his mistake; it wasn't that serious.

“Maybe one of the windows,” you suggested hopefully.

“No, they were all closed,” he said.

“Mrs. Wayne!!” you heard Mrs. Hart as she got up from her chair and walked toward you in a suitably slow manner.

“Oh no,” you groaned in anguish. “We need an entrance, an entrance, an entrance to the kitchen.” As if they were connected, you and Alfred looked at each other as the solution came to your mind.

“The unidentified door!!” you both yelled and started running.

As you rounded the corner at the end of the hall, you suddenly found yourselves walking through the unmarked door into the kitchen, which Alfred had appeared through that morning, just like that. You still didn't know what the point of the door was, but you were thankful for it because Mrs. Hart was coming to the door.

“Ms. Wayne,” called the woman, dangerously close to the door. You ran to the opposite side of the covered door and approached your children. “Where are they?” She was almost in front of the door, so you made a quick movement with your hands: the soup disappeared from the floor and returned to its place in the pot, the children's clothes were cleaned, as were their faces, and both furniture and glass returned to their places in the expensive crockery that Bruce had inherited from his parents. Mrs. Hart came through the door at that moment to find you carrying your youngest son on your hip, Dick sitting innocently on the island, and Alfred stirring the soup. “Here you are,” she exclaimed.

“Here we are,” you said, smiling. You lowered Jason from your hip and grabbed his hand. “Alfred,” the man looked at you, “it's time to serve the main course to our guests.”

“Right away, Mrs. Wayne,” Alfred answered calmly and you shared a knowing look before he answered.

At the dining room table, the end of the table was left empty because it was Bruce's place, while you, Dick, and Jason sat on one side, in that order, with the invited couple seated across from you, Mr. Hart directly opposite you.

“Well,” Mrs. Hart said as she put her napkin on her lap, while Alfred poured juice for the children. “Where do you come from? How long have you and Mr. Wayne been married? And do you plan to have more children?” she asked, beginning to taste the soup, hitting you with her questions closely one after the other.

“Oh,” you laughed, “Bruce and I have been together for so long it feels like we've always been this way.” You paused, “And we come from…” you were at a loss. “We come from…” you didn't know.

“We come from another city,” said Dick. “From…” he was cut off, bewildered, but he quickly looked at you for help, surely you knew. “What was the name of the city, Mom?” he asked you, curious.

“The city, of course,” you said, trying to start your sentence again. “We come from…” Again, you had nothing; that made no sense.

“AND?” asked Mr. Hart, frustrated. You looked at him and tried to smile to appear normal, but you quickly lost it, and he noticed.

“Let them think, dear. They are putting together their story,” Mrs. Hart defended, smiling sweetly as Alfred poured him more wine. At that moment, you looked at him, but he didn't look at you; he was suddenly serious, with a lost look as he poured his glass, and he seemed tense.

“Our story, yes, of course,” you continued, again trying to get back on track. “We come from, from a city, from…” You failed again.

“Where from?” asked Mr. Hart, flustered.

“Arthur, leave the poor woman alone,” Mrs. Hart scolded him, eating quickly, her tone sweet, but in her posture, there was something else; she was not calm or happy as she wanted to seem.

“Why?” her husband defended himself. “It's a perfectly normal and simple question: Where do they come from?” The table fell silent; for a few seconds, no one moved or made a sound. “Damn it. Where does it come from?” He slammed the table roughly, making the plates jump. Dick looked at him; he could hear the anger in his voice and even fear, but he didn't understand why. “What do you want? What do you want—” His words were cut off, as was his breath. You watched him intently as he brought his hands to his throat; he was choking.

“Oh, Arthur, stop it,” his wife said naturally, her tone not losing the cheerful and casual air it had until now, but Arthur Hart kept choking, and nobody made a move, not even you. Only Jason kept eating his soup. Your eldest son looked at the guest, confused. Dick felt that he should do something, but he also felt he shouldn't at the same time. “Stop it,” Mrs. Hart repeated. “Stop it, stop it, stop it.” She stopped looking at her husband when he fell to the ground, very close to the feet of Alfred, who looked at the situation without leaving his place, with the wine jug in hand. You looked at him, and he looked at you this time; he seemed worried, even anguished and fearful. “Stop it,” Mrs. Hart looked at you this time; she was talking to you. “Stop it,” she repeated.

“Mom,” Dick called worriedly when he saw that the guest's pleas were directed at you now. He grabbed your hand on the table to try to get your attention, but he kept looking between Mrs. Hart and the drowning man on the floor.

“Mrs. Wayne,” this time it was Alfred who called you. “Mrs. Wayne” was a silent request.

“Please, stop it,” Mrs. Hart continued. A buzzing invaded your ears; suddenly, two unknown voices filled your ears. What they were talking about was inescapable, but they were close because their minds were connected.

“Ms. Wayne,” Alfred called you with more urgency.

“Mama,” Dick called, shaking your hand at the same time, but the voices had your full attention. You wanted to know who they were and what they were up to.

“Mommy.” Suddenly, the voices were forgotten. Dick and Mrs. Hart fell silent. You looked at your youngest son, who was looking at you, confused by the situation, and you immediately reacted.

“Alfred, help him,” you said seriously, the butler quickly putting down the wine pitcher and proceeding to help the man on the ground, quickly getting him to spit out the piece of meat that had been stuck in his airway. Mr. Hart gasped for air as he started to try to get up quickly. In a hurry, Alfred helped him to his feet.

“Careful, Mr.” he said as they both finished standing in their places.

Mr. Hart finished standing up and ran his hands over his jacket, lost for a second and not knowing what he was doing, but quickly found the watch on his wrist and looked at it.

“Look at the time,” he said matter-of-factly. “We'd better head home.” He pointed and smiled, suddenly becoming more likable than he had been throughout dinner.

“You're right, dear,” Mrs. Hart agreed in her well-pitched, sing-song tone. “It was a pleasure meeting you all,” she commented as you and your children stood up from your seats. She approached you friendly, and you took a few steps to meet her halfway. “Your children are adorable, Mrs. Wayne, and your house is charming,” she stated before giving you an impromptu hug, which you returned.

“Tell Mr. Wayne I can't wait to do business with him,” Mr. Hart said, smiling as you separated from his wife and walked over to shake his hand. “And you two behave, young men,” he motioned to your sons as they both stood beside you. You ran your hand through your youngest son's hair to make sure he was there, and Dick leaned against your side with his head resting on your hip. “Your mother is a unique woman, and there is nothing she wouldn't do for you. Appreciate her,” he told them honestly, which brought a smile to your face. You looked down to meet Dick's unsure eyes and patted his back quickly to reassure him.

“Yes, Mr. Hart,” Jason said as his older brother decided to speak.

“We'll take care of her, always,” Dick added.

“I'll walk you out,” Alfred said, smiling, happy that everything had turned out well.

You and your children went to the living room, ready to watch some television before going to sleep.

“Well, that was an adventure, without a doubt,” you commented while sitting in the middle of the couch.

“It was to be expected when your family is like ours,” Dick jokes, smiling at you conspiratorially as he sat next to you, leaning his head on your shoulder.

“Next time, Alfred should serve ice cream for dinner,” Jason pointed out. “Everyone loves ice cream,” he explained when you looked at him, prompting you and your oldest son to laugh along with the audience. Jason settled with his head in your lap, and you put your hand in his hair to caress it, as he liked so much, while Dick wrapped his arms around your waist. You put your arm around his shoulders to hug him closer to you.

“After that disaster, I need a drink,” Alfred commented, entering the room and sitting in one of the individual armchairs. “Although it could be compensated with a raise,” he joked, and they all laughed together again.

“What can I say?” You looked at Jason, seeing how his eyes were slowly closing in sleep. “We're a bit of a peculiar family,” you stated.

“Just a bit?” Dick teased again. You kissed his head as the lights dimmed, and the credits began to roll, the show ending with the image of your beautiful family sitting in the living room.

Seeing that image, Bruce couldn't help but notice that it was the happiest he had seen you in months…

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dazecrea

11 months ago

The Darkness of the night sky (Qimir x reader) - prologue

Summary: Training in the jedi order when you were younger had a lot of perks but also came with disadvantages. When everything was going wrong, meeting him convinced you that the universe was worth living in. All that changed on the wretched night of your birthday. Destruction rattled through your doorstep and many years later, you were found by it once again. With your mind unfocused and your heart in the gutter, the whispers of fate are too influential to be ignored. Pairing: qimir x ex-jedi!female reader Genres: angst, best friends to enemies (i apologize in advance), he fell first and he fell harder, fluff, romance, force-dyad mess Warnings: dark!qimir, yandere!qimir, clueless reader, use of bad language, depression, and anxiety

WC: 1.1k+

——> next part

The day you turned 22 will forever be ingrained into the catacombs of your mind.

It wasn’t a good thing.

Weeks before that wretched night, you passed the Jedi trails and you were finally a Jedi knight. After many failed attempts and tears, you finally felt relieved knowing you were going to be who you wanted to be.

Although deep down, you felt the uncertainty of your thoughts itching at the back of your mind. constantly, reminding you of your doubts and not to trust any of the Jedis and padawans.

Gasoline was added to your thoughts of uncertainty whenever you decided to fall asleep. Every night, you would lay awake, tossing and turning. The thoughts eating away at your brain while you laid restless in bed, afraid to succumb to the darkness that called to you.

An eery voice would creep out of the shadows, steal your breath, and crawl its way up your spin. Whispering about the chaos that was embedded in the lightness. Describing things in nature that always mirrored darkness. Going on and on about the sun that waits for the darkness of the moon.

The softness of light isn't the only way The desire of darkness can keep you at bay

This mantra was being whispered by an unknown individual as soon as you decide to get sleep every night. The voice haunting you in wakefulness and plaguing your dreams.

The only thing that could help even out your breath was thinking about your fellow Jedi, Qimir. The gracefulness and beauty of Qimir lulled you to bed every night, enabling you to get not more than 2 hours of sleep.

Your mind often used Qimir as an escape to hide away from those dark thoughts. In training and on missions, you thought about Qimir, trying to keep the darkness at bay.

Your heart wrenched, your pulse quickening as you blushed against the silk sheets that adorned your bed.

You mind conjuring up the smile Qimir threw your way that morning. God, you would be in deepest trouble if any jedi caught wind of you daydreaming of Qimir.

This morning, he knocked on your living quarters with a badly decorated cake in his hands. Even though the cake wasn't cute, you thought he was. And that’s all that mattered to you. The light smile that graced his features when you let him into your quarters brought sunshine to your darkest thoughts, and made you freeze at your front door.

That moment had been playing in your mind for a few minutes before the dark shadows clouded your consciousness one again. Grabbing one of your pillows, you screeched into it as you let out your frustrations.

Find the key and you will see Darkness will set you free

Having enough of the whispers that only grew louder, you navigated out of your quarters, and walked around the jedi temple on Coruscant for what felt like hours. Stumbling as the shadows continued to find their way towards you.

It was late at night, with dawn no where near the horizon. The night sky doing little to quench the uneasiness within your spirit. You continued to gaze at the moon, puzzled by its purpose as it brought darkness to the planet. You suddenly wondered how lonely the Moon felt knowing that it would never be able to meet the Sun. Knowing that it would never see the light. Knowing that it would only live in darkness for the rest of its days.

Your thoughts grew darker, matching the dark matter that graced the universe. It was minutes before you attempted to shake the destructive thoughts out of your mind. Lightly patting your robes in order to refresh yourself, you sensed a presence sneak its way up behind you.

Turning around, you were stunned by the presence of Qimir making his way through the garden. Seeing him this late at night caused unwarranted feelings to surface once again. The hunger grew restless inside of you, your eyes unable to stop themselves as they traveled down to his chest.

It was then that you felt something was a miss.

Briefly averting your eyes up, your heart wrenched as you saw the uneasiness weep out from his body language. The Qimir you knew always walked around free and never guarded his surroundings unless he was on missions.

This Qimir in front of you had the same attitude and demeanor of the Qimir you would see in battles. This Qimir was fearless and never stopped until he got what he wanted.

Qimir's hands lightly shook at his sides, the veins of his hands more prominent than usual. Your eyes zeroed in to the beads of sweat shedding from his crisp, black hair. The water making contact with the floors of the temple, creating a melodic beat. As if ready to start a song.

Sensing where your eyes were, Qimir’s fingers went up to wipe the sweat beads off of his forehead.

The gasp that escaped your lungs was like an alarm in the gardens. The oxygen in the air flooding your lungs at an alarming rate. Your back and legs freezing as you registered the blood on the sleeves of Qimir's robes.

Your mouth spoke before you could assess the situation.

"What did you do?!"

Your voice sounded foreign to your ears, the calm atmosphere shedding and taking a dark turn. The uneasiness in your voice did nothing to sway the sudden, dark glint in Qimir's eyes. His face transformed. His expression going from collected to smirking as his eyes navigated the features of your face.

The moonlight did little to hide the calculated footsteps Qimir took towards you, his hands crossing behind his back. His footsteps almost marching towards you. Qimir tucked his bottom lip underneath his upper teeth, his pupils relaxing in the moonlight.

The ice in your legs slowly thawed, finding a way to move backwards as Qimir attempted to invade your personal space. Within seconds, your back collided with a random pillar in the courtyard. Your right hand paving its way to your light saber. Knowing you would reach for that first, Qimir snatched the saber out of your hands, a few tsk tsk tsk’s escaping under his breathe.

"I did what I had to do.." His face a few centimeters away from yours. Both of your breaths mingling in the cold night.

Drawed in by your expression, Qimir navigated closer, the tip of your nose lightly brushing against his. Your mouth salivating at the thought of what was about to come.

"After all…. the darkness will set you free."

Note: This is a new fic that I will be starting. If you'd like to be added to the taglist, please comment or send me an ask. Thank you for reading and tell me if i have made any grammar/spelling mistakes.

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dazecrea

5 months ago

shooo

65K notes View Post

dazecrea

1 month ago

Jealous

Summary: Could you write an imagine where the reader and slash get into an argument about her getting “too close” to Nikki causing him to get jealous and aggressive towards Nikki

Requested: yes by anon

Warnings: jealousy, drinking

Y/N groaned, hearing Slash bringing up the same argument again. “I’m not into him, Saul. Nikki is just a friend,” she said.

“I get that’s how you see it, love. But he doesn’t,” Saul replied. He was obviously pissed and slightly jealous.

“Saul, don’t worry so much. He knows that we are just friends, and he knows that I’m most definitely with you,” Y/N said, walking up to him and wrapping her arms around his neck.

Saul sighed and wrapped his arms around her waist. “If he tries something one time, I’m kicking his ass,” he warned.

***

The party was already crowded by the time Slash and Y/N. She smiled and waved at Tommy and Mick. Then she felt Saul tense beside her. Y/N followed his line of sight and saw Nikki.

“Be nice, babe,” she said. “Trust me, okay?”

Saul sighed and nodded. “You wanna a drink?”

Y/N nodded. “Of course,” she said.

Slash walked off, but she knew that he would come back as fast as he could. He hated leaving her alone at parties like this, and in all honesty, she liked having him at her side. She hated when some random guy would try to hit on her and wouldn’t listen.

“Hey, stranger,” Nikki said, smiling at her.

“Hey yourself,” she replied. “How have you been?”

“Been having the time of my life. What about you?” he asked.

“Enjoying life with Saul,” she answered.

Nikki laughed. “So where did he go?”

“I got the two of us drinks,” Saul said. He handed a cup to Y/N and glared at Nikki.

“Do I not get one?” the bassist asked.

Saul shook his head and moved in closer to Y/N. She knew that her boyfriend was trying his best to be nice, but at the same time didn’t trust Nikki.

After awhile Saul and Y/N went to talk to Duff and Steven. Which she was thankful for. Saul didn’t get jealous around them.

She slipped away from him and went to the bathroom. When she got out, she bumped into Nikki again.

“So we run into each other again,” Nikki teased.

“The first time I didn’t even touch you,” Y/N pointed out.

Nikki looked around and noticed that Slash wasn’t around. “And your guard dog isn’t around.”

Y/N looked at him questioningly. She had never seen him like this where he seemed to be looking her over and looked like he was ready to do something that she didn’t want.

He leaned in, and she pushed him back. “Nikki, no,” she said.

“Oh, come on. Lighten up. I won’t tell your boy,” he slurred.

She knew that he was drunk, but she had never expected him to act like this. Y/N shoved him back. “Nikki, back off,” she said again.

Nikki tried grabbing her, but he didn’t have a good hold. Y/N easily shook off his hold and rushed back to Saul. He could tell from the look of her face that she was pissed.

“What happened?” Saul asked.

“You were right,” she admitted. She didn’t really want to get into it here, and she wanted to go home.

“What did he do?” her boyfriend asked.

“He tried to kiss me,” she answered.

Saul rushed past her and went straight for Nikki when he saw him. Y/N turned to see Slash land a punch on Nikki’s nose.

“What the hell?” Nikki shouted.

“You put your hands on Y/N,” Saul growled.

“Nothing happened,” Nikki yelled.

Slash looked as if he was ready to beat Nikki where he stood. Y/N ran up to the guitarist and grabbed his arm. “Come on! Let’s just go home,” she said, tugging him towards the door.

Saul glared at Nikki, but let himself be dragged out of the house. Once they were in the car, Saul looked at her. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

Y/N shook her head. “No, he was just an ass,” she answered.

Saul started the car and drove them to their home. The ride was pretty quiet for the most part with the occasional ‘are you okay?’ from Saul and her telling him that she was.

When he turned into their driveway, she asked, “You’re not going to give me an ‘I told you so’?”

“No, I’m not. I understand that you didn’t have feelings for him, but it was always him that I worried about. And I’m not going to be a dick because I was right,” he said just as he got out of the car.

She did as well and threw herself at him and hugged him tightly. “I love you,” she whispered.

“Love you too, babe,” he said as he picked her up and carried her to their bed.

142 notes View Post

dazecrea

11 months ago

KENJI SATO ✰ 10:43

“Working overtime really doesn’t suit you, Sato.” The teasing sentence made Kenji grunt in disapproval, slumping against his couch.

“Wow, I didn’t notice. Thank you for that valuable input, [Name],” he says, rolling his eyes at you.

He can’t help the sarcastic reply. Kenji’s schedule was all over the place. His life has been all over the place ever since his return to his home country, Japan. And now he not only has to take care of himself—which, in his defense, was fairly simple when he just had to worry about himself—he has to worry about an infant Kaiju!

What a wonderful (not) icing on the cake.

“Ken is really appreciative that you made time to fulfill his request, or, shall I say, cry for help, [Name].” Mina’s familiar voice flurried from a distance, closing in to your right in a breeze.

“Hey! It was not a cry for help—it’s more like a... Asking a friend for a favor,” Kenji says, trying to ease his brain with what’s coming out of his mouth (like it was on autopilot, scrambling to defend himself and the pride he had left).

“Uh huh. And the favor is? I don’t really think there’s anything I could do to her containment unit or any repairs that’re needed in this place.”

“I just need someone to watch over her.”

(“I just need someone to talk to” is a much fitting phrase.)

“Doesn’t Mina already do that?”

“There’s only so much a supercomputer like me can do to entertain a living being, [Name].”

On cue, Emi croons at the video of you singing on stage. A part time career of yours, because when you’re not developing new tech that boosts the economy, you might as well indulge in your hobbies.

Kenji wouldn’t admit it, but he has a vinyl or two—or even a whole collection of them—that he considers as priceless as his one-of-a-kind sports car displayed in the basement.

“Would you look at that? She likes your singing.”

He watches as you take a step closer to Emi, observing how she delightedly squealed at the soft melody being played on the holograms. This 20-foot-tall baby Kaiju reminded you of the time you took care of children at the daycare center.

“I just...” he sighs. You didn’t even notice that Kenji was already beside you, offering you a canned drink.

“How do you do it? Juggle everything?” He murmurs. “You’re the busiest person I know. Working on your thesis, performing at various concerts, taking on charity work, and whatnot. Hell, if you could run for president, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you in the elections, too.”

A quiet laugh was returned. “It’s not easy, that’s for sure. But within time, you’ll learn just what you need and what you can handle.”

“Mm. Don’t you ever just want to run away from all the responsibilities people place on your shoulders? I can barely take care of this young lady,” he chuckles, though it doesn’t hold even the slightest ounce of humor to it.

“I wish, but then I’ll remember the kids who're so happy to see me whenever I drop by,” you say. “They may be a handful at times, but you’ll be surprised to know just how smart and caring they are. How they take in their surroundings and attempt to figure out who they are. We’re all what they have. The least we could do is give them our time and love all the same.”

Kenji lets your words sink in. Simple and touching. The kind that gets the gears in his head to start twisting.

“You really are a charm with your words; did you know that?”

“Thanks; I try my best.”

The night continues with Kenji and Emi playing baseball on a simulated field with you by the shed, cheering on from a safe distance. Kenji doesn’t remember the last time he’s been this genuinely happy after his return to Japan. It’s a refreshing feeling that he wants to get used to again. To see the baby Kaiju successfully hit the ball with a swift swing after watching after him is a sight that tugs at one’s heartstrings.

Just like a proud father.

“Come on, girl! We gotta run the bases!”

And as the two celebrate their moment of triumph, the baby Kaiju stomps toward you and giggles happily as she hoists you in the air without much warning. You took it all in you not to shriek and absolutely lose all composure, but when you’re up in the air and are being held to a bear hug like some sort of teddy bear by a Kaiju that could probably crush your bones if not careful, it’s hard to not just scream for your life.

“Oh, ok—ok. Baby, put me down gently, please,” you chuckle nervously.

“It appears that the little one sees you as her other mother,” Mina adds.

Kenji laughs at the sight, pulling out his phone to take a picture. This is definitely a memory he’d want to remember.

“This is not funny, Kenji. Tell her to put me down.”

“Aw, is Baby not listening to her Mommy?”

“Again, not funny. This is like an out-of-the-blue co-parenting a child with you. With you being my annoying ex-husband.”

“Specific, eh?”

“Shut!”

When you’re just about to leave for the night, Kenji suggests that you sleep over. There’s a lot of spare bedrooms in their manor, he reasons. He also doesn’t understand what came over him to offer, but he doesn’t take it back.

But it could be because he’s missed you. And he’s somewhat afraid that this may be the last time you see each other in a while due to your clashing schedules.

“You’re such a girl dad, Kenji,” you tease.

“Haha, good one,” he says, rolling his eyes at you. He took a couple of blankets from the closet and placed them on the bed.

“Just saying.”

“Whatever you say, Mommy.”

“Oh hush, Daddy.”

That ringed out a laugh from him. “Bleh, that sounds so embarrassing coming from you.”

You shrugged. “Hm? Don’t you think you’re embarrassing too?”

“I’m not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too. I will not be going back and forth like this with you anymore, Kenji Sato. Good night!”

Kenji can’t hide the smile that appears on his face. Yeah, he definitely missed this.

Definitely missed you.

💘 fake dating seungkwan.

☆ Breaking: SEVENTEEN's Seungkwan Confirms He's In A Relationship [BREAKING] 30m ago

Boo Seungkwan of SEVENTEEN confirms that he's currently dating someone. This comes on the heels of Dispatch reports that Seungkwan is involved in a romantic relationship with an actress.

Seungkwan's agency, Pledis Entertainment, has confirmed the idol's relationship status. "Seungkwan is seeing someone with positive feelings," the agency says in a statement. "We hope that you will look warmly upon their relationship."

Congratulations to the couple!

Listen to SEVENTEEN's newest mini album 'SPILL THE FEELS' here.

COMMENTS • 204 COMMENTS

r/kpop • 3d ago donquix0tes

'Fake dating' contracts?

i swear i'm not just in denial about bsk's dating news (LOL) but i heard rumors that 'fake dating' exists in the industry, especially between actors/actresses - idols??? they said it's this whole underground thing so the actors get more traction, the idols get more streams. is this real or is it just stuff you see in fanfics 😂 i'm asking because i can be a bit gullible lmfao

↑ 30 ↓ 🗨 12 ↷ Share

Contract No. 052615PROFESSIONAL SERVICES AGREEMENT

THIS AGREEMENT made and entered into this 28th day of SEPTEMBER 2024 by and between BOO SEUNGKWAN, hereinafter called IDOL, and [YOUR NAME], hereinafter called ACTRESS for a FAKE DATING ENGAGEMENT.

A. IDOL and ACTRESS agree to engage in a fake relationship for the intents and purposes specified under I: RATIONALE, which by this reference is incorporated herein.

B. This Agreement shall take effect on OCTOBER 28, 2024; contingent upon prior approval to the agencies of IDOL and ACTRESS. The Agreement shall end on MARCH 31, 2025, unless earlier terminated or extended by contract amendment.

C. IDOL/ACTRESS may terminate this Agreement for its convenience any time, in whole or part, by giving the opposing party fourteen-day (14-day) written notice thereof.

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seungkwan updates @boosadanfiles seungkwan at the recent christian louboutin event 🥹 in the caption of the post, he said @yourusername was his date! 🗨 191 ⟳ 1.8K ♡ 5.9K

´◡` ꗃ @yourusername lucky to be doing this with a friend. you make it easy, @hit_thekwan. — Jeju-do, South Korea 🗨 1 ♡ 3

🍊 ꗃ @hit_thekwan Replying to @yourusername we still have three more months 😆 don't give up on me yet

From: Boo Seungkwan <boo.seungkwan98@gmail.com> To: You <yourname@gmail.com> Date: March 31, 2025 Subject: so..?

this e-mail is being written right after my meeting with my company, but right before i text you lol. i'm going to schedule send this for the end of our contract so this is actually going to be a letter from seungkwan of the past 👻 don't be spooked! hehe

jokes set aside, i don't know what the next couple of months will look like. i understand why this is being done. you need the publicity for your drama... we have our cb... bla bla bla. it's all the usual stuff in this godforsaken industry

honestly, when i first got approached with the idea of faking a relationship for the group's benefit, i was 10000% ready to say no. but. i found out who it was going to be

and i just thought, like, okay. we already know each other. we're friends! and i guess i just wanted to make sure things would be easy for you, too. bc you deserve someone who will understand you, who will help you and be there for you through something hellish as this

so here's some promises i'll make you, even though you won't see them until much later lololol: i promise to be THE best fake boyfriend there is!!! i'll be cooperative, i'll play the part. i'll try to make sure this arrangement doesn't feel like work (even though it is), and when it's too much, we can run away to jeju for a weekend (just kidding) (or am i?)

by the time you get this, you'll know whether i got to do all that lol. make sure to hold me accountable ok!!! if i wasn't a good fake boyfriend, then show me this and i'll get you a meal, your choice. if i was a good fake boyfriend... well, that was the goal 🤞

i feel like this is already getting super long, so i'll end it now. i'm going to text you to see what you think of the arrangement. hopefully, you're fine with it, or else this would all just be a waste of writing lol. see you, fake girlfriend :)

forever yours, your bf-to-be seungkwan 🍊

p.s. this is the embarrassing part so i'm burying it in the very bottom 🤷 but i also hope that this whole thing will give me the courage to say what i really want to, which is something like

p.s.s. they didn't have to contract me to date you. i would've done it on my own accord. i would've done it for free.

p.s.s.s. i was ready to do all of it, only because it's you

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