#<———— kind???? little out of date

[clockwayswrites]

An abundance of birbs part 33

Masterpost Please no editing or concrit, I know I have missing or swapped words, but I am super fuzzy from this headache. It will get a good edit before ao3. <3

“I’m hiding in here from your children,” Danny said as he came into Bruce’s study. He had a tray of tea and snacks in hand, so he must have been sent up by Alfred.

“That’s more than fair, considering,” Bruce said with a little smile.

Danny just sighed as he set the tray down. “You have video, don’t you.”

Bruce nodded. “Jason sent one and Tim the other. They’re very moving.”

“Yes, Jerry’s love for me is eternal, clearly,” Danny drolled.

“If only Jerry’s father would approve of the union,” Bruce said.

Danny gave a little hum as he poured the tea. “Alas, Damian does seem very resistant to the idea, if the lecture he gave Jerry is any indication. Cream, sugar?”

“A little cream, thank you,” Bruce said and got up from his desk. “And Jerry was being very forward so the lecture may be a little deserved, but who can blame him with those wings.”

“Mister Wayne,” Danny said with an exaggerated gasp, “are you you saying that you’re enamored with my wings?”

Bruce reached out and brushed his fingertips through Danny’s wings. He could play it all off, of course. It could just be part of the rest of their banter. But did he want to? He’s enjoyed having Danny around. The man seemed to just fit with the family. Overall, the children certainly seemed to like him. And, well, Bruce found that he quite liked Danny too. Maybe it was time to take a little risk.

“Yes,” Bruce said. “Though the wings are hardly the only thing about you that I’m enamored with.”

Danny blushed so quickly that Bruce was honestly a little concerned bout Danny’s blood pressure. “I—um, oh?”

“Is it that surprising? You’re kind, intelligent, considerate. You protected my children and even before that were gentle and understanding with them. You have a sense of humor and seem able to handle just about anything,” Bruce said, which was almost an understatement with what Danny has been through lately. “And, more shallowly, you’re very attractive, with or without the wings.”

“That—I—oh come on, you of all people can say someone else is attractive!” Danny sputtered.

“Oh?”

“Have you not looked in a mirror recently? You’re the type of person that ‘devastatingly handsome’ was coined for,” Danny said with a gesture at Bruce. “Which is something that I just said out loud. I don’t suppose you want to fire me so that I can run away to a remote island somewhere?”

Bruce chuckled. “Fortunately, I don’t have that sort of power over your job. All that would fall to Lucius.”

“Fortunately?” Danny repeated.

“Umhum. It means that there’s no company policy we’re breaking if we were to date. And there’s no pressure for you to say yes if you’re opposed to the idea,” Bruce said. He very much wanted to make that clear. “And between the press, my reputation, the large family, and the recent rogue attack I know there are a number of reasons to be opposed to the idea.”

“Bruce,” Danny said before Bruce could continue, “are you trying to talk me into dating you or out of it?”

“I well…” Bruce cleared his throat. “I don’t want to assume anything or imply that I am some sort of catch because I hardly am. I am a stubborn man. I have… a rather deep seated anxiety that verges on paranoia at times. It has and can make me overbearing when I try to protect the people I care about. I come with six children, almost as many pseudo children, and a frankly terrifyingly competent butler who is like a father to me. Every relationship I’m in and not actually in ends up in the paper—”

The spiral of words—of reasons he wasn’t good enough for someone like Danny was cut short as Danny pushed himself up on his tiptoes and across the coffee table to press his lips to Bruce’s. Bruce sighed softly into the kiss as it put sudden stop to the unwanted thoughts. Danny left his hand on Bruce’s cheek as he pulled back a little.

“Too forward?” Danny asked. His words and eyes alike were filled with nerves.

“Not at all,” Bruce said quickly. He followed his words up with a quick kiss as proof. “I am sorry about rambling like that. As I said, deeply anxious.”

“Anxious is okay. You’re aware of it. I’m not exactly a paragon of mental health either. I’ve been going to therapy since I was eighteen,” Danny said. His thumb gently stroked Bruce’s cheek. “First off, fuck the press. I can deal with it. Second off, your family is huge and wonderful and not at all something that would stop me, not unless they hated me.”

“They certainly do not hate you,” Bruce assured him.

“Third off,” Danny continued with a little smile, “I guess the anxiety, which we’ve covered. And fourth off, I am also very stubborn and have no problem telling someone to budge off if they’re being too much. So, yeah, we might have lines to find out and some of those we’d find out be crossing them and fucking up, but that’s just part of dating, isn’t it? If any of them become lines that we can’t deal with, well, we’re old enough that I would hope that we could end things maturely.”

“I have a very good track record of remaining friends with my exes, for better or worse,” Bruce said.

“Better or worse?”

“Harvey Dent, as one example.”

“Ah,” Danny said with a little nod. “I’ve heard that he’s been doing better at least?”

“That or he’s planning something big,” Bruce said with a sigh. “But I even I know I should stop talking about an ex with someone that just kissed me.”

“Generally a good rule,” Danny agreed with a little smile. “Does this mean that we’re going to try dating?”

“If I didn’t talk you out of it,” Bruce joked.

“Like I said, I’m stubborn,” Danny pointed out. “But as much as I adore them, I expect at least one dinner out with no children once my wings are gone.”

“Deal,” Bruce agreed easily and leaned down to give Danny a proper kiss.

---

AN:

I didn't plan for the kiss to happen here, but I'll take it!

[ozzgin]

Is it weird I kinda want a monster Incel? Like he believes all humans are supposed to be a certain way but then they meet the first human and are initially disillusioned/upset but over time begin to regret their actions after falling in love and seeing humans as more than really hot porn/pictures online

content: gender neutral reader, NSFW

I'm thinking of a monster incel who is deeply envious and frustrated because he thinks humans only like conventionally attractive monsters.

He reads the comments from the human world with a resentful frown. "Of course he's hot," he grunts, eyeing the rather tasteful sketch of a tall, muscular orc. He turns to the mirror for comparison: multiple limbs, tendrils, a gargantuan body of darkness and blight. He doesn't have abs, nor a handsomely pale complexion and chiseled jaw. He is but an abstract aberration, a crooked ghoul.

It only makes sense that when he encounters you, his yearning and curiosity are swiftly replaced by anger. Give it a moment to fully process his existence, and you'll be disappointed, perhaps frightened. Maybe even disgusted.

He might as well get something out of this unplanned affair. With instinctual greed, he pins you to the ground, taking in your scent. His heart throbs with anticipation. How will you react once he's deep inside you, thrusting relentlessly and with sheer indifference to your protests? His razor-sharp teeth clamp together in seething jealousy; he can almost hear your sobs, feel your little fingers clawing around his hideous body, trying to escape. Of course, he's not the kind of monster you wanted. He's not-

Underneath his heaving chest, your small human form lays limp. He considers whether you've already given up and accepted your fate, when he notices the perverted grin spread across your face. It seems he never considered the possibility of a true monster fucker.

"Well? What're you staring for," you say with impatience, gesturing for the beast to hurry up and fuck you already.

Is it too late to ask you out on a proper date?

[himbosandhardwear]

Steddie I 2.1k I different first meeting I modern au I one sided enemies to lovers I rated T

“I mean, if looking like a dyke is the goal, you're nailing it,” Steve tells Robin as she holds the phone back to showcase her date outfit. “Change the belt, I think-”

He hears a throat clear behind him and spins around to find Eddie the bar manager standing behind him, a blank face and closed off body language.

“Shit,” he mumbles. “Rob, I have to go. I'll text you after work.” He hangs up on her and stuffs his phone into his back pocket. “Sorry about that. Hi, you must be Eddie.” He holds out his hand to shake but Eddie just looks at it. He lowers it, the sting of rejection biting low in his stomach. “Um. Harvey said you just got back from a tour? That's cool.”

“Mmhmm.” He sniffs. “You're on garnish duty,” he says, cold and succinct, before turning away.

It's only Steve's third day behind the bar but he'd been slinging drinks with Rachel the night before. Barback duties are beneath him, he's got six years bartending experience. He doesn't want to complain though, not to Eddie who hated him on sight, and not during his first week.

They stay out of each other's way for the first half of the night, Steve relegated to the back, slicing limes and making the pre-mixes.

He's not used to being hated so thoroughly like this. Eddie hasn't uttered a word directly to Steve since sending him to the back, but he catches Eddie's eye a few times and it's like ice water down his back. The people-pleasing little boy in him wants to cry but he's a grown fucking man, he's not going to let this bother him. Just because he was looking forward to meeting Eddie, wanted to make a friend here, wanted to get to know the guy who managed the bar when he wasn't shredding across the country. Maybe if the owner hadn't talked Eddie up like he was the next Chris Martin…or whoever the metal equivalent of that would be. And, yeah, he'd seen the photos of Eddie, the Polaroids behind the bar of him with staff and guests, and thought he was stupid hot, with his tangled curls and the dimples, and maybe he'd had some inappropriate thoughts about his in absentia boss, and maybe he'd fantasized about flirting at the end of the night, and maybe-

Anyway, it's all good. Eddie doesn't owe him kindness or friendship or a single dimpled smile. Sometimes people just don't get along and that's okay.

“Your Fernet,” he mumbles as he sets the bottle at Eddie's elbow, head down like a dog that's used to booted feet. He feels like an idiot but Eddie's frosty demeanor feels like it's balanced on a knife's edge, like he could tip over into a blazing explosion if Steve says or does the wrong thing.

Eddie doesn't thank him, just snatches the bottle and walks away.

“You're welcome,” he snarks under his breath after Eddie's well away.

“Can I get a rum and coke?” A guy asks over the counter.

Steve hesitates. He's not welcome at the bar, Eddie has made that abundantly clear, but he wasn't hired as a barback, he's a bartender, so he smiles at the guy and starts making the drink. Eddie is busy at the other end of the bar anyway.

“You're new,” the guy says, making conversation as Steve works.

“Yeah, it's my first week.”

“You liking it so far?”

Steve glances down the bar, watching Eddie shake a cocktail like he's fucking Tom Cruise or something. His face lights up at something the woman he's talking to says and the crack of his laugh travels the length of the bar, punching Steve right in the stomach. His dimples are really something to see in motion.

“Jesus Christ, I wanna wrap you in tinsel.”

Steve whips his head back around. “Huh?”

The guy chuckles. “Because you're pining so hard. Get it? Pine-ing.”

Well shit. He deflates. “That obvious, huh?”

The guy accepts his drink with a shrug. “Maybe not to everyone but to a…certain demographic…” He gives Steve a little limp wristed wave, which makes Steve crack a laugh.

“I'm Steve, by the way,” he holds out his hand, which the guy takes easily, unlike some people.

“Cary, like Cary Grant.”

“Or Cary Elwes.”

“Exactly.” He leans a ways over the bar and mumbles, “Don't look but your boy is watching us.”

Steve forces his body to not stiffen up. “Does he look mad?”

“No. Confused if anything. Pretend like I just said the funniest thing you've ever heard.”

Steve, always down for shenanigans, tips his head back and fakes the loudest howl he can without being too over the top.

“Oh, you're good. He's got his eye on you, doll. Make the most of it.”

Steve leans into the shared space, eyes half-lidded. “I hope he's seething with jealousy. He could've had me six ways from Sunday but instead he decided to hate my guts at first sight.”

“What an absolute dumbass.” Cary reaches up and taps Steve's collarbone. “If I wasn't already taken, and you weren't pining like a Christmas tree, we could've ridden into the sunset together.”

“If only,” Steve agrees with a soft laugh.

“We're out of Matcha.”

Steve jumps out of his skin. Eddie is standing three inches from Steve's side, eyes burning into him like he just caught Steve keying his car.

“Make your own Matcha,” Cary snarks, “Steve and I are getting to know one another.”

Without breaking eye contact with Steve, he growls, “I think Tony, your fiance, would prefer it if Steve made the Matcha.”

Chills run down Steve's back and arms but he maintains composure. “On it, boss.”

He slips out from under Eddie's gaze, finger waving to Cary on his way back to the kitchen. He can hear Eddie chastising but he chooses to ignore him in favor of hyperventilating in the walk-in.

“What the fuck.”

Eyes like black flames, licking up the side of Steve's neck. Collarbones raising and lowering in the light of the bar as his chest moved with each breath. Hands clenched at his sides, white knuckled.

That wasn't cold at all.

He moves on autopilot for the rest of his shift. Eddie doesn't talk to him again but Steve can feel his eyes on the back of his neck, raising the hairs and keeping him from forgetting Eddie’s existence.

Towards the end of his shift, just before midnight, he hears Robin calling his name from the bar. He comes out of the kitchen, happy to see her waving him over, excited to introduce her date. He probably shouldn't encourage this behavior, it's his first week after all, but the restaurant is closing and the bar is empty.

“Hey, you must be Chrissy,” he greets the petite woman at Robin's side, takes her tiny hand in his and gives it a firm shake. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Same! I couldn't believe it when Robin said you'd just started here. Like, it's a crazy coincidence.”

He cocks his head but before he can ask, Eddie comes bounding over from the other side of the bar and lifts Chrissy up off her stool, swinging her in a circle while she shrieks with laughter.

“Apparently Eddie is her best friend,” Rob fills him in, sort of unnecessary at this point. Steve wouldn't have been able to imagine Eddie looking so happy, he'd been so sour faced all night. Even when he'd been laughing with the customer earlier, it was only a fraction of this.

“Tell me everything,” Chrissy is saying after he puts her down. “Last I heard you loved Cleveland and hated Boston, which I maintain is insane.”

“And I maintain you didn't have to navigate the Boston roadways with Boston drivers,” Eddie argues, still grinning. “But it was great. Exhausting but…yeah, fucking awesome.”

“I'm so proud of you, Eds. You deserve it.”

He actually fucking blushes, which is devastating to Steve's crush. Just devastating.

“Shut up,” he mumbles. “Oh, sorry, you must be Robin. Thanks for bringing Chris to see me.” He shakes her hand, not hating her on sight, Steve notes.

“No problem, but I didn't, she brought me here to see the Dingus.” At Eddie's confused look she throws a thumb back at Steve, who waves.

“Yeah, hi. Your best friend is dating my best friend. Sorry. Guess that means you're stuck with me.”

His frown doesn't abate with this explanation.

“Because they're lesbians. She's gonna have me helping her move into Chrissy’s place in, like, a week.”

“Shut up!” Robin reaches across the bar to slap the shit out of his arm and then tosses a lemon wedge at him when he jumps back out of swinging range. Chrissy giggles at them.

“Knock it off, I worked hard on those.” He picks the wedge up off the floor and tosses it into the trash. Three points.

When he looks back up, Eddie is staring at him, wide eyed.

“Oh.”

“Oh?” Steve questions.

“Ohhh.” He presses his wrists into his eye sockets.

Steve looks at Robin and Chrissy in confusion but they're both as lost as him.

“I'm an asshole.” He hasn't removed his hands yet.

“Yes,” Chrissy agrees immediately, “what did you do, Eddie?”

He finally looks up at Steve, who takes a step back, involuntarily. They stare at one another for thirty seconds. Or two days. He's not sure.

“Eddie?” Chrissy prompts again.

“I-” He turns around and walks away.

Chrissy rushes after him and yanks him back. They get into a tug match, which Chrissy wins, somehow.

“I love her,” Robin mumbles.

“I fucking said. Less than a week.”

She slides a look his way, one that reads ‘Like you're any better.’ He shouldn't have told her about his plan to seduce his boss, who he hadn't even met yet.

“Whatever you did, you apologize right now,” Chrissy commands to a pouting Eddie.

Steve stands there, eyebrows up, as Eddie grumbles an apology that would do an eleven year old Dustin proud.

“What is happening right now?” He wonders aloud.

Eddie folds his arms across his chest, his black button down stretching across his shoulders beautifully. “I heard your conversation with Robin earlier. You said something about her looking like a dyke and…I made an assumption on the kind of person you were. And I was an asshole to you because of it. I'm sorry.”

“Oh,” Steve whispers in understanding. A weight lifts off his chest. “Fuck. That's hilarious.” He can't stop the giggles from erupting.

“Okay, in my defense, most straight guys don’t get a pass.”

Steve and Robin look at each other and crack up. He wants to ask what Eddie thinks was going on with Cary if he assumed Steve was straight but Robin shrieks, “You think I would hang out with a straight man!”

“Hey! You did hang out with me when I thought I was straight!”

She shakes her head like a smug asshole. “Debatable. You've always been a lil fruity. Tommy H? Whatever that was with Billy? C'mon.”

Steve takes a turn at slapping her. When he looks back up, he finds Eddie looking at him like a kid who just found coal in his stocking, dark eyes wet and bottom lip desperately trying not to pout.

“Holy shit, stop making that face,” Steve begs.

“I can't.”

Chrissy leans up on her knees, wobbling precariously on the stool, to physically push his lip back where it belongs. He smacks her hand away and then puts his own back up to his eyes, pushing hard.

“This is divine punishment. The universe sensed I was too happy so they sent you to test me. Big fat F, just like always,” he mumbles, nonsensically.

Steve looks to Chrissy to translate.

She puts a finger to her chin, looks between the two of them, and then concludes, “He thinks you're hot and that he ruined his chances by being a prick.”

“Chrissy!” Eddie's shriek puts Robin's to shame.

But he's not denying it.

Steve makes extremely pointed eye contact with Robin and says, “It's getting late. Eddie and I have to close the bar. You should see Chrissy home.”

She nods, slow and then quick, as the message lands.

“Yes! Yes, let's get going. Leave these guys to…close the bar.”

Smooth.

They giggle the entire way out the door but Steve ignores them. Eddie is staring again, dark eyes pinning him to the mirror behind the bar.

“I was going to ask earlier but I didn't think it was appropriate…”

Eddie swallows, throat bobbing. “Ask what?”

“What's the company policy on fraternization?”

As a former jock, Steve is thoroughly impressed by Eddie's form as he vaults the bar.

[tokoyamisstuff]

Hear me out…

Variants finding out that reader who is their S.O in their universe is dating somebody else in this one

All the possible reactions from them ESPECIALLY if the seeing reader again was their main motivation for coming to this dimension in the first place

(Pretty please can you include No goggles Mark and the variant that got blown up with Rex,,,,he had such an evil yet sweet and soft voice it still scratches my head so good)

Warnings: every red flag imagineable, forced relationship, abduction, manipulation, canon-typical violence + death, not proofread

He's calm. Too calm. Because he knows exactly how to resolve this.

You'd surely hate him if he was to kill your mate - which wouldn't be a hindrance, but still bothersome - so instead he resorts to more sophisticated measurements.

Got your partner dangling helplessly in the air while making it crystal clear that if he was to ever approach you again, the consequences would be worse than death.

Of course he'd be there to comfort you immediately after you get broken up with 'out of the blue'. You'll never know.

Surprisingly, I think he'd be the most chill about it. After all, he knows best what it's like to try and fill the void with meaningless partners.

But anyways, it's time you stop this bullshit, because your real soulmate is here now. He wouldn't even feel threatened by this nobody, confident that you'll eventually see just how much better he is in every way.

However, he is not a patient man. If you take too long to accept your fate, he might have to become a little more aggressive in his attempts.

Oh, so you want to make him jealous? Cute. Challenge accepted.

But don't be fooled by his confident facade, on the inside he is seething with rage and heartbreak. There's no way to calm him down, couldn't care less and didn't ask for your opinion, feelings, or whatever excuse you'd come up with to soothe his hurt pride.

He'd keep your 'pathetic attempt at replacing him' around, torturing him for his own amusement, and also as means of punishment because you 'cheated' on him. To 'mark his territory', he will constantly force your partner to watch the things he does to you.

In between his cruel way of venting his anger, he'll have brief moments of weakness, revealing just how desparate he is for your affection.

Won't harm your partner if you comply and come with him. They're insignificant either way.

He's pretty chill about the whole situation, certain that given time you'll surrender to your new circumstances. Treats you strict yet caring - as far as he is able to be - and gives you clear instructions of how to act around him.

Other than that, you'll be granted a rather peaceful life with as much freedom as he is possible to give to make you adapt easier. Asks you to never mention your ex in any way, though. Sore topic.

As far as he's concerned, your life before his arrival never existed.

This whole situation is weirdly amusing to him. He'll have a fit of laughter seeing you with this fucking loser, slapping his ankle and acting all silly, while degrading them and also you for choosing someone like this.

Will challenge your partner to a 'duel to win your favor' just for the fun of it. Might even let them land a hit or two, just to toy with them. We all know how this ends, but hey, it got the point across pretty well.

Afterwards he'll act all cheerful and whimsy, twirling you around and expecting you to be thrilled that he's here and got rid of this 'disgrace' for you.

Would be very underatanding. You are not to blame, after all. It's just that your kind is so weirdly obsessed with the concept of love, that you'd rather stay with the wrong companion than be all alone.

But now he has arrived, and by Viltrumite logic you should practically launch yourself onto the superior choice.

Acts as callous and neutral as always, claiming that this union is strictly strategical, but in reality it's eating him alive that he keeps failing to recreate a bond similar to the one you had with your partner.

At some point he pours out his heart, despite having a hard time to verbalize those feelings he was never taught. It's a beginning, though.

Amused, at least initially. But his mood is pretty erratic in general and can switch drastically.

Depending on your reaction, he might either adapt to the situation pretty easily or do something he regrets later. It's a thin line honestly, and there's no right or wrong action.

Most likely he's a petty bastard and will disregard your partner completely. Flirts with you constantly like a damn bully that tries to steal someone's girl in the most disrespectful way possible. And given his power he just knows neither of you have the guts to resist his antics. If you do play hard to get however, it only spurrs him further!

He can work with whatever you decide on doing.

This is his breaking point.

As soon as the reality of the situation sets in, he'll have a complete mental breakdown. You're finally in reach and yet so far away, with someone better that can provide a normal life for you.

Without any hope to hold onto, he'll start destroying everything in his path in a nihilistic fenzy. Without you, nothing matters anymore - it's better to end it all and take everyone with him.

You'll sacrifice yourself by making the heroic offer to stay at his side if he spares your world - and really, he'd rather have you like this than not at all.

Abducts you right then and there, no questions asked.

This man is so lost in his delusions that he seamlessly continues where he left off with his world's version of you. He refuses to acknowledge that you're a completely different person and gets unstable if you act any different than he expects you to.

The most horrifying thing is that he's a talented manipulator without even trying to be. Gaslights you into obedience by claiming it's the only way to keep you safe, and his gentle way of tending to you in huge contrast to his true nature. Over time he's able to actually make you care for him in a twisted way.

His intentions might be pure, his methods on the other hand are anything but that.

But hey, he never seeked out to be absolved anyways. All he wanted was to have you back.

Be prepared to hear all insuslts in the book being hurled at you.

Kills your partner out of a whim, but regrets his approach later on since he should have made them suffer way more. You can be glad he has a soft spot for you in his heart, otherwise would've died right then and there together.

Better make up to him after your 'mistake' by every means necessary. Get on your knees and beg for his forgiveness - even though you have no idea who he is or what he is talking about.

But hey, luckily he just can't be mad at you for too long.

Bonus: Retro Invincible

"I'm not mad, just disappointed" he states flatly with that smooth, balmy voice of his. He is definetly mad. Run.

Takes his sweet time ending the life of the person that dared defiling you with their unworthy touch, making you watch the entire thing so you'll 'learn your lesson'. And don't you dare to scream or even cry for them, or he'll unleash pain a thousand times worse.

Becomes awfully possessive afterwards. Even while holding you in captivity he'd still find reasons to lash out randomly at people he deems suspicious. You are always under his scrutiny, and the fact that you'll never truly be his is slowly driving him insane.

What a cruel turn of fate for both of you, eh?

[syluxs]

shower for two

pairing: sylus/reader

summary: showering together for the first time, you expected something intense--overflowing tension, something unmistakably heated. but instead, it was easy, playful. sylus has proved once again that he wasn’t like other men, washing your hair like it was the most natural thing in the world

notes: pure fluff i wanna combust

honestly, you had expected this to be….. intense. awkward. full of charged tension. after all, seeing each other naked during that time was different--there was an urgency, a purpose. there was an unspoken heat that left no room for hesitation.

but showering together?

you were both level-headed, fully aware, with nothing to hide behind. that made it feel almost too different. also, it was a me time thing for you back then. a moment of solitude. a time to think, to let your mind wander, to just be in the calm. it wasn’t supposed to be shared--at least, not with anyone else before you started dating sylus. this was yours, something personal, something just for you.

yet here you were.

sylus was completely unfazed. with an ease that only he could pull off, he took off his towel and neatly hung it up--because of course he would. he wasn’t some unhygienic guy who would just let it drop onto the floor.

your eyes widened at his action, mouth parted slightly in shock at him being so casual abt this.

he noticed, of course, and let out a deep chuckle, clearly amused by your reaction.

"really?" he teased, tilting his head at you. "it's nothing you haven't seen before."

you frowned at him, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered. slowly, deliberately, you removed your own towel--though far less smoothly than he had--and awkwardly hung it up, mirroring his movements like some kind of hesitant, poor attempt at composure.

you stood there for a moment, shifting uncomfortably, as if trying make yourself invisible. your posture was stiff, like you weren’t sure what to do with yourself.

finally, after a deep breath, you hesitantly stepped toward the shower, trying to make yourself seem as small as possible.

sylus immediately noticed your unusual sheepishness. instead of teasing, he simply let out a soft chuckle and, like it was the most natural thing to say, he said, "why are you hiding, kitten? you're beautiful, you know that."

your entire body tensed. it was such a casual compliment, but it hit you like a tidal wave. you could feel ur stomach making all sorts of movements, heat rising to your face as you struggled to keep your composure.

maybe this was just the honeymoon phase, since you had only recently started dating. but still, it had always been like this with sylus, even before you were together. the feelings were always intense, ready to swallow you whole.

he reached out and turned on the shower, letting the water heat up before stepping under the stream. you watched as he tilted his head back, running a hand through his wet white hair, his red eyes momentarily closing as he let out a deep, satisfied sigh. the sight made your heart do an embarrassing little skip. his toned muscles stood out under the bathroom light, water running over the sharp lines of his broad shoulders, down the contours of his chest. with his hair pushed back, his sharp, handsome features were on full display--something you tried so hard not to openly admire.

instead of making a snarky comment or throwing a teasing smirk on at how shy you were acting, like you expected from the dynamics where you two started out, even before dating, he just… hummed. content. relaxed.

"water’s nice," he murmured. "you getting in or just gonna stand there and stare?"

you scoffed, stepping in. "not staring. just mentally preparing myself."

"for what?" his lips twitched. "afraid you’ll get overwhelmed by my beauty?"

"more like bracing myself for the ego explosion."

sylus chuckled, stepping aside to let you under the stream. the warm water cascaded over you, washing away any lingering awkwardness. for a moment, you stood there, eyes closed, enjoying the sensation.

then--

"hey, move," you grumbled, nudging his side when he took up way too much space. "you’re hogging the water."

"i am the taller one here," he pointed out. "makes sense i take up more space."

"that’s not how this works," you huffed, shoving at his arm. "equal shower rights. scoot."

he let out a dramatic sigh but shifted over, giving you a bit more room. but just as you started shampooing your hair, you felt a hand on your head.

you blinked up at him. "what are you doing?"

"saving time." he said as he lathered the shampoo into your hair.

you narrowed your eyes. "this is suspiciously nice of you. are you planning something?"

"do i need a reason to do this?” he smirked. "besides, your height makes it easier for me to reach."

"maybe you're enjoying this a bit too much."

"maybe," he admitted, fingers massaging your scalp in slow, deliberate movements.

you almost melted on the spot. okay, maybe sharing a shower wasn’t that bad. in fact, it was actually kind of….. nice. relaxing.

but, of course, sylus couldn’t resist being sylus.

"you look like a wet cat right now."

"oh my gosh, get out." you playfully pushed at him, but he barely budged, his laughter only growing.

sylus was completely unbothered as he grabbed some soap and turned you around. "stay still," he muttered, running his hands over your back with gentle efficiency. his touch was firm but careful, working in slow, methodical circles as he scrubbed away the suds.

honestly, with how most men were, you expected this to have some kind of tension, maybe even turn into something intense, something undeniably charged with anticipation. but it wasn’t. not even close. and you felt so good about that, because once again, sylus had proven he wasn’t like other men. damn.

you huffed but let him, feeling oddly pampered.

when he finished, you grabbed the soap and grinned up at him. "your turn."

sylus raised a brow but turned around, giving you access to his broad back. you dragged the soap along his toned muscles, biting back a laugh at the contrast of how nonchalant he had been about touching you versus how stiff he got when you did the same.

then, unable to resist, you playfully smacked his ass.

he jolted, nearly slipping. "what was that for?"

"couldn’t help myself," you grinned. "prime, golden opportunity."

his ears turned red, and for the first time since you stepped in, he looked flustered. “you're unbelievable.”

"aww, don’t be shy, kitten," you teased, mimicking his earlier words.

sylus groaned, covering his face with one hand. "i regret everything."

he may have said that, but he didn’t mean it. not even a little. the way his lips twitched, the way his red eyes softened when he looked at you--it was obvious. no matter how much you exasperated him, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[corevibeself]

𝒲 𝒽 𝒶 𝓉 𝒟 𝑜 𝒯 𝒽 𝑒 𝓎 𝐿 𝑜 𝓋 𝑒 𝒜 𝒷 𝑜 𝓊 𝓉 𝒴 𝑜 𝓊 ?

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤　 　﹥*:ꔫ:*+ﾟ ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤　　 ﹥*:ꔫ:*+ﾟ 　 ﹥*:ꔫ:*+ﾟ　

Ever wonder what your current or future partner loves about you?

Remember, these are general readings; not all the messages will resonate with some of you. Pick the image you're most drawn to; don't overthink it! <3

𝓟𝓲𝓵𝓮 1 ♥

I'm getting that this person has never met someone like you before. And like, yeah, obviously—everyone’s unique. But you guys are a bit out of the norm (not in a bad way). I'm getting Aquarius and Gemini vibes, or maybe some Uranus influence in your chart—like having Aquarius as a rising sign. It could even just be in terms of looks—like, you might be the first person they’ve dated who stands out in such a unique and fresh way.

I’m also picking up on this very innocent, childlike energy—just super youthful as a person. You have this sense of wonder about the world, like you’re open and receptive. I see you as an open book emotionally, and your face might be really animated—like, I just saw someone reacting to a surprise with this big, shocked expression. This person finds you incredibly adorable.

For some of you, you might be on the shorter side, or have this cute little baby face, or just something about you that gives off youthful vibes—and they find that so cute. I think sometimes they can’t even take you seriously HAHA. Like, I’m literally seeing you talking about something serious, and they just wanna squish your cheeks. Your relationship might be goofy af, so they never really know when to be serious hahaha XD.

If you’ve got blue or hazel eyes, they’re obsessed. They just think they’re so pretty. I also saw big, round eyes as another feature they adore about you.

There’s this one scenario I saw—you’re trying to do something, and you’re struggling, and they’re trying to help, but you insist you can do it. And they love that. Like, they love seeing you struggle?? HAHAHA Idk, they just find you adorable frll, you guys remind me of bubbles? Idk why I just got the image of bubbles, and now I'm seeing the SpongeBob movie scene where Patrick and SpongeBob are making bubbles in that one scary bar bathroom, If you haven't seen the spongebob movie pls go check out that scene cause its making me giggly, and it just may be kind of your dynamic? But take it as it resonates HAHAHA

Some of you might really love gardening or having plants inside your home. And if you’re the type to talk to your plants and name them, they LOVE that about you. There’s just something about your energy that feels so authentic, cute, and unique. You radiate a softness that makes them feel so comfortable. I'm also seeing if you paint, draw, or create things, if you're just a creative person, they love how shy you get when showing your creations, cause I saw someone with a canvas behind their backabout to show it to their partner, but like you're too shy or you're just hesitant and they love it because they're always surprised by your talent so you might humble yourself a lot and this person is like "why? you're so good!"

They might love massaging you, or maybe you massage them, but someone here has healing hands. Like, your touch genuinely heals them—it makes them feel better. And when you guys are together, they love how it feels like it’s just the two of you. Like that "no one understands us" kind of energy hahaha. They love that.

They also love how you’re always down to try new things with them. You might even be the type to plan surprises for them—again, super youthful vibes. I even thought of pranks as something you guys might do to each other—small teasing, playful energy. They just feel like they can ultimately be themselves with you.

𝓟𝓲𝓵𝓮 2 ♥

You guys are my intuitive pile—we got the High Priestess up in this bitchhh hahaha. They hate that you know things, but they also LOVE it. You might make this person feel like they can’t hide anything from you. I see them trusting your discerning abilities. You’re so in tune with this person that you just know when they need something. Like, this is the pile where you'll say something to them or get them something, and they’ll just be like, "How did you know I needed this?"

You make this person feel seen because you see into the deeper aspects of people. Some of you might even be witches, practicing the occult, tarot, etc. I’m also being told that some of you doubt your intuition or might be reading this thinking you’re new to all this—or maybe you’re just not even aware of the fact that they view you as so mystical. But they do, and they love this part of you.

Some of you love listening to true crime or are currently studying psychology—they love the insights you give them, the random facts you hear, and the knowledge you’ve gained. They love hearing about it. Again, this person feels seen—they feel like they can be authentic and emotionally vulnerable with you.

Whoever’s got a cat they talk to (or whoever just talks to animals in general)—they love your connection with them. They love seeing you interact with animals. Some of you might be vegan, vegetarian, or thinking about eating less animal products. I’m also getting nature witches here—or if you resonate with collecting stuff from nature, like crystals, I’m also seeing an altar. Okay, they just love your collections, is what I’m getting.

You’re not someone whose mind can be changed easily, or it’s hard to sway you. Like, you don’t let people sway you is what I got. They find that so admirable because I’m really seeing you dedicated to something you’re passionate about. And it’s not just a hobby—it’s like a lifestyle at this point.

Another message I got—you might be someone with a specific routine, like, for example, a morning routine that feels almost like a ritual—but you take it seriously, and they love that about you and the reason they do is that your person just gives me admiration vibes; they admire you, your intelligence, your intuition, your dedication to what you love, and the knowledge you carry.

Some of you even intimidated this person when y’all met—or when you will meet.

𝓟𝓲𝓵𝓮 3 ♥

So y’all are definitely their ideal type in literally every way—LOLLL. Incredibly hot to this person. You’re the person they’ve always wanted and searched for. It’s like they never even realized how bad they had it in past relationships until they met you—because you showed them what a good relationship is.

You nurture this person. They feel emotionally heard and cared for by you, which might be something they hadn’t felt much before. You have literally shifted their entire view on relationships and love. Like, in their mind, you’re it—you’re the last, they’re set on that.

You’re someone who isn’t afraid to speak your truth, and that has changed them—they love that about you. It’s your brutal honesty, guys. You say or do things that make this person realize a lot about themselves—you’re like a catalyst for change. And it doesn’t even have to be anything grandiose—it’s just that you do things this person hasn’t experienced in past relationships, and it’s new to them in a really good way. It’s fresh, it’s intense.

You’re not afraid to grow—in fact, you love growth. You make this person rethink things.

You also give off sensual vibes—it might be that you’re in touch with your body and how you express yourself, and that turns them on hahaha. I honestly don’t think they can see their life without you now that you’re in it.

They also love how you take their side in things—like, let’s say they’re in an argument with someone, you have their back. But at the same time, you’re fair—you’re honest, and if they’re in the wrong, you’re not afraid to say it. They love that you can hold them accountable.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨ ᰔ ୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨ ᰔ ୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨ ᰔ ୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊

Hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. <3 I was feeling a bit low energy this weekend, so my next post might be later during the week; I'm thinking next weekend, probably. Thank you for all the support I've been getting, btw, it's been insane. Thank you guys for reflecting such kindness back to me. xxxx

[sunsetmade]

My Talker

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: You love to talk but some people don’t wanna hear it.

Please request any ideas!

The small beach house was buzzing with chatter and laughter, a mix of loud voices and clinking bottles. It was a Kook party, but this wasn’t the usual wild rager that went on until sunrise. This afternoon, it felt more laid-back, a chill vibe where everyone was just hanging out. Rafe had dragged you along, promising it would be fun, and of course, you agreed. You didn’t mind going with him to his parties or events—it was reassuring to know he wanted you there, by his side.

You and Rafe hadn’t been dating for long—just four months, to be exact. Yet, in that brief time, you’d grown as close as two people could possibly be. He’d let his guard down around you in a way that few ever saw, revealing a side of him that was soft, sweet, and gentle. Despite how different you two were, it just worked. You were the talker, and he was the listener—exactly how he wanted it to be.

Rafe loved listening to your rants and random stories. It was one of his favorite things about you. The way your voice was soft yet serious, no matter what you were talking about, always drew him in. He could never get enough of hearing you speak.

✧* ✧*

“— so I was standing in line, and the lady in front of me had, like, I don’t know, maybe five items, and I swear it took her like thirty minutes—” You were in the middle of telling Rafe about your grocery store adventure without him. He was stretched out on his bed, propped up on his elbow, watching you as you sat beside him, legs crossed. His left hand absentmindedly traced circles on your thigh as he nodded along, fully engaged in your story.

“Was Linda the cashier?” he asked, and immediately, he saw your eyes light up. That simple question showed you that he was listening, that you weren’t just rambling on, even though you kind of were. But Rafe would never interrupt. “Yes! So then—” You chuckled, and Rafe smiled, gently squeezing your leg, his attention completely on you.

✧* ✧*

Rafe stood behind you, his arms wrapped around your waist as he chatted with his friend. You silently watched the conversation unfold between the two men, your gaze lingering on him. Soon, a small group of people gathered around, most of whom you didn’t know. While it might have been uncomfortable for some, you saw it as an opportunity to meet more people to talk to.

“Don’t you teach little kids how to surf?” one of them asked. Rafe gave your hip a gentle squeeze, and you smiled brightly.

“Yeah, it’s so much fun! Do you guys surf?” you replied. The girl nodded, smiling, and you continued, “It’s such an amazing hobby, like being one with the water. It’s kinda cool.”

Rafes lips turned up into a grin hearing the excitement in her voice. She had been dying to talk all night and now was her chance.

“Actually, the other day this one kid like totally belly flopped in the water. He had the biggest red spot on his back after and—” you rambled on, glancing around at the faces in the circle. Most of them looked interested, nodding along, but when your gaze passed over the two girls sitting nearby, your heart sank.

“God, does she ever shut up?” one whispered, and the other laughed.

The words hit you like a punch to the stomach, and suddenly, all your confidence seemed to vanish. You cleared your throat, your voice quieter now. “Uhm, s-sorry...the kid ended up being okay. But surfing is great, you guys should really try it.

Rafe frowned, glancing down at you as you stared at the floor, your usual spark gone. The rest of the group hadn’t noticed, and the conversation resumed, but Rafe couldn’t shake the confusion gnawing at him. You never stopped a story halfway, especially not before getting to the good part. He leaned down, his mouth brushing against your ear as he whispered, “You okay, pretty girl?”

You gave him a weak smile and nodded, but it didn’t reach your eyes like it normally did. His heart clenched at the deflated tone in your voice.

“What happened?” he asked, his protective nature starting to build, already suspecting that one of the Kooks had said something.

You looked up at him, trying to shake it off. “I’m fine, Rafe. I promise. No one wanted to hear my silly story.” You waved him off, but the way you said it made him freeze. Why did you think that? Why the hell would you ever believe that?

In a split second, he pulled his arms from around your waist and took your hand, guiding you outside to the quiet patio. His frustration was clear in his quick, purposeful steps, his grip tight around your hand as if he needed to keep you close.

The cold dusk air hit you both as you stepped into the dim light of the patio, and Rafe turned to face you, his jaw clenched. “Why would you think that?” he asked, his voice sharp but laced with concern. “You think no one cares about what you have to say?”

You looked up at him, unsure of how to respond, your eyes still heavy with the weight of their words. Rafe’s gaze softened, “Baby, why would you think that?” He asked again this time softer as his right hand pulled you in closer to him. Your sad doe eyes looked up at him.

You walked into his chest, burying your head there. Rafe sighed, his arms wrapping tightly around your back, pulling you even closer. For a few moments, neither of you said anything, just standing there in the quiet. Then, you finally spoke, your voice muffled against his shirt, “These two girls were laughing when I was talking. Not only that, but I’ve been hearing people say around the island that I’m annoying because of how much I talk.”

Rafe’s breath hitched slightly at your words, but he immediately tightened his hold on you, his grip becoming possessive. His chest rose and fell as he exhaled sharply, clearly frustrated. “Don’t listen to them,” he muttered, his voice low and intense. He pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt your chin up so he could look you in the eyes. “You’re not annoying. Not even close. Those people don’t know what they’re talking about.”

You could see the anger flashing in his eyes, a protective fierceness that only surfaced when it came to you. He cupped your face with his hand, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. “If anyone has a problem with you, it’s their issue, not yours. Don’t ever let anyone make you feel small, especially not over something as stupid as talking too much. You’re perfect just the way you are, got it?” His words were fierce, but there was a tenderness in his tone that made your heart flutter.

His mood softened as a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. Seeing it, Rafe's expression lightened, and he couldn’t help but smile too. “Besides,” he murmured, his voice low and sincere, “I love hearing you talk. It’s my favorite thing about you.”

His face moved closer to yours, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered, the words lingering in the air. A bright smile spread across your face, and you let out a soft chuckle. “Really?”

Rafe nodded, his expression casual, as if his words held no weight. But to you, they meant everything. Grinning, you stood on your tiptoes and pressed a light kiss to his lips, your heart fluttering as the moment settled between you.

Rafe gave a small smile, the protective, fierce edge softening into something more gentle. With his arm around you, you both stood there in silence, the moment stretching on as the world outside continued to turn. But right there, in his embrace, you knew you’d be alright.

[morganaawriterr]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ Rockstar;

Synopsis; Hired to babysit Jay’s daughter, you never expected the quiet tension between you two to turn into something more. Jay tells himself it’s just admiration, maybe loneliness... but one night, with tension hanging heavy in the air, he finally confesses what he feels for you.

Pairing; fem!reader X older rockstar dilf!Jay Genre; suggestive; fluff; tiny bit of angst Words; 2k Warning; horny stuff; body insecurities; cursing; mentions of alcohol; Author's Note: OMG IT'S FINALLY HERE!! I edited this so many times because I wanted it to be perfect. I hope you guys like it :( If you guys like this I was thinking I could make a two-part, longer version with more details. Let me know if you would like that! As always, thank you so much for all the love, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated! Masterlist (might revise and edit later)

You weren't exactly sure when the gentle touches and long eye contact had changed, but you could feel it in your skin every time Jay was close. At first, you thought you were making things up in your head because you had a silly little crush on him, but it was impossible to deny it by now.

He used to ask you to move out of the way and never touch you, but lately, every time he wanted to pass by you, his large, calloused hand would gently rest on your lower back to guide you. Jay used to avoid making eye contact with you; you weren't sure why. But lately, his mysterious brown eyes never left yours when you spoke, causing goosebumps to rise on your flesh.

You could swear he was spoiling you, giving you presents that had nothing to do with your job. After all, he was a talented guitarist in a rising rock band, and since he couldn't spend much time at home, he had hired you to look after his three-year-old daughter.

He had been the one to reach out to you after hearing so many good things about your babysitting skills. Jay had asked one of the managers for your number because you also looked after their eight-year-old son. And to say you were good was an understatement.

The care you had for kids was endearing, and the kids loved you. They loved your creativity and ability to make fun, artsy things, your willingness to play with them for hours, to get them to sleep on time, and to eat everything.

Jay refused to admit that he was attracted to you. Why would he like a girl four years younger than him? It wasn't a big age gap—you were twenty-three, and he was twenty-seven.

But he knew he was lonely. After his ex-wife left him, he became very emotionally shut off, focusing only on his daughter and his band. So to him, it was obvious he wanted you because his daughter liked you, and he had been missing a woman's touch for too long.

Jay also realized that he was wrong very quickly. When one day you came into his house with red eyes and a puffy face because of a bad date, he knew he wanted you more than he could explain. And it wasn't just because you were a sweet, kind woman. It was the way you were always so well put together, your full lips always shiny, and the way your body swayed when you moved.

Your hair, your chest, your waist—he was completely drunk on you. And he felt gross for being attracted to you, because in his head, the age gap was too big. Soon his worries eased away when he opened up to his best friend Jake, who assured him he wasn't creepy, just horny.

In his eyes, you didn't feel the same — there was no way. You could hold eye contact with him for a long time without feeling shy; you wouldn't mind his presence close to you, and you would even help him fix his outfits before leaving for work.

But he was wrong, again.

You felt every single touch of his, every tiny glance. The heat of his fingertips against your waist, even through all the clothes. Your breath would speed up from his sophisticated perfume and his black hair, which had grown longer.

Now you're standing in the kitchen, by the refrigerator, the only light source being the soft light from the open fridge. You're holding a tall wine glass, sipping from it slowly as memories flood your mind.

You were standing in front of the tall mirror in the guest room, your hands sliding all over your body. Your eyes hesitated to look at your reflection in the mirror, the reality hitting you like a truck.

Since you've started babysitting for Jay, you had to stop going to the gym because he needs you more than your other kids. And since you're a person who gains weight easily, you're feeling insecure over the extra weight.

“Can I come in?” you heard Jay ask from outside.

“Yeah, sure.”

Jay walks inside the room, and his jaw nearly falls to the floor when he sees you, not believing that the dress he picked out for you fits like a glove.

“You look stunning, YN,” he complimented, eyes glued on the curves that were outlined by the red, silky dress.

“I do?” you ask hesitantly, your hands trying to hide your tummy.

“Hey,” Jay reached out for your hands, pushing them away from your body. “You look so beautiful. That dress has never looked better. It really highlights your curves; it makes you look classy yet sexy.”

A subtle smile grows on your lips, and you let out a small laugh. His words hit your heart harder than they should. Jay looks at your red cheeks and takes a step back, worried.

“I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I'm just trying-”

“You didn't, Jay. It made me feel good.” You interrupted him, assuring him that you were more than okay.

You can feel your cheeks heating up as you remember his words, loving the way it makes you feel cozy on the inside. But you were still unsure if he meant those words or just said them to comfort you.

During the whole night, Jay had his eyes on you, amused by your polite self talking to everyone while taking care of his daughter. You could feel his gaze on you, burning on your skin from afar. And when he got on that small stage and started singing, you swore he became unbearably hot.

Jay owned the stage with his presence and vocals, his skilled hand playing the guitar as if it were an extension of himself. And as he sang the romantic lyrics, his eyes locked with yours, his gaze intense yet sincere.

By that time, his daughter was sleeping on the trolley, still with a peaceful face despite the loud music. His manager approached you with a suspicious smile. Jay's best friend, whose name is Jake, stood by your side too, as Jay continued performing.

After the performance, Jay, his bandmate, and his manager disappeared for a while, going to a business room to discuss the new direction of the band with the new sponsor.

The first person he ran to tell the good news to was you. He wrapped his strong arms around your waist and pulled you into a tight hug. Jay had a smile so big on his lips that it made your heart flutter, happy for him.

“What are you doing here so late?” Jay's voice sounds from far away, pulling you out of your thoughts. He was now wearing some loose pajama pants and a t-shirt.

“Just thinking…” you responded with a small smile, taking another sip of the wine.

Jay walked closer to you and took in your figure once again. The red, silky dress that was loose yet tight enough to highlight all your curves, the tall red-bottomed heels he bought, and the heavy necklace resting on your cleavage.

He couldn't understand how you could feel insecure about your body when it had the most beautiful shape and thickness in all the right places. And it drove him mad.

“There's something I need to tell you. And it has to be today and now,” Jay pointed out in a stern voice, catching you off guard.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, worried, putting down the glass next to you on the counter.

Jay stepped closer but stood against the main island in the kitchen while you remained by the counter. He couldn't look better, illuminated by the blue light of the open fridge, his masculine features enhanced by strong shadows.

“I want to start by saying that I don't want anything to change between us.”

Your heart sped up as soon as those words left his mouth, and negative scenarios started forming in your head. He's going to fire me, you thought.

“Jay, if I did anything wrong, just tell me and…”

“You didn't do anything wrong, YN. On the contrary, you did everything right. Too right.” Those words failed to bring any comfort. Could you be fired for being too good?

“Jay-”

“Stop interrupting me, or I'll lose the last bit of confidence left in me,” Jay interrupted you, his hands shaking slightly as he took them out of his pockets and reached for the marble countertop.

You took a breath in, your chest feeling heavy and your heart breaking little by little. Does Daphne not like me anymore? Did he find out about the silly crush I have on him? Am I no longer good enough?

“I have feelings for you, YN. Feelings that I can’t control anymore…” Jay interrupted his speech with a pause. “I want to touch you, hold you, and kiss you. I want to ruin you. To be yours. I want to make you forget about all those bad dates you had in the past, make you sweat, and give you the best sex you’ve ever had.”

Jay stopped for just a moment to catch his breath and calm down his racing heart, but it all went down when he saw you. He could faintly make out the shape of the tears rolling down your cheeks. Silent and heavy.

“Why are you crying? Did I make you uncomfortable?” he questioned, stepping forward and holding your shoulders.

You let out a small giggle, your hand reaching out to wipe the small pearls away.

“Fuck, I thought you were going to fire me. But this is so much better,” you confessed, your cheeks turning red.

Jay was dangerously close—you could feel his warmth and breath against your skin. Your eyes found his, and he felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs.

“I’ve had a crush on you for a while, too, but it was unprofessional… so I kept it a secret.”

“You feel the same?” Jay was convinced that he was delirious.

“Fuck, yes, I do,” you laughed. “I always have.”

Silence filled the kitchen space as your eyes met Jay’s, his presence so close yet so far. His hands slowly and hesitantly slid down from your shoulders to your side, tracing your lines under his fingertips.

“That means I can do this?” Jay questioned in a low voice, his large hand traveling all the way down to your ass and giving it a firm squeeze. You bit your lip to stop a whimper from leaving your throat.

“You can do anything you want,” you assured him, stepping closer, so your chest touched his.

“Wait—” Jay whispered, his breath ghosting over your lips. “I not only want to fuck you, I—I want you to be my daughter’s new mom, my girlfriend.” He declares, eyes tense and glued to yours, needing to show you how honest he was.

“Jay, I would love to. I’m yours, completely.” You whisper, your hands moving to wrap around his neck as his grip on you gets tighter.

Jay doesn’t say anything else; he leans forward and seals your lips with his. The kiss is slow and loving, his warm, delicate lips moving against yours with precision and patience. Your hands sneak to his scalp, pulling the little hairs, causing Jay to let out a low moan against you. A smile grows on your lips, and you turn your head to the side, trying to deepen the kiss.

Something in Jay snaps, and the grip on your waist turns possessive. He takes two steps forward, trapping you against the counter. The kiss deepens, his tongue exploring your mouth and fighting playfully with yours as his eager hands move to the back of your thighs. He lifts you up and sits you down on the counter.

“Jay…” You whisper desperately, your body throbbing with desire. Your eyes find his, and you’re surprised they are completely different—dark and dilated, dripping with need. You haven’t seen them like this before, and it causes a wave of warmth to travel all over your body and pool at your core.

Jay remains silent while his hands pull your dress up, revealing more and more of your flesh. But his eyes are closed, and his mouth is attached to your neck, looking for that sensitive spot that would make you moan. When his full lips smooch the small spot just below your jaw, your mouth opens in an ‘O’ shape, and your hips press forward, harder against his hands.

“You smell so nice, sound so nice…” He speaks against your flesh, biting down just enough to leave a small mark. “I wonder how nice you feel… how nice you taste…”

Jay’s face leaves your neck for a few seconds to give you a quick kiss full of saliva and teeth, hungry and dizzying. Then he shows you a smirk he has never made before and drops to his knees. Your eyes follow his every move, completely hypnotized by the lust in his eyes.

From below, Jay’s hungry fingers travel further upwards your legs, from your foot to your knees and then your thighs. “Such soft skin, baby.” He compliments, and with no further warning, he yanks you forward, causing you to gasp in surprise.

Your covered cunt is inches away from Jay’s face. “It’s going to be a long night… and a long life…” Jay teases, his fingers feeling you up unhurriedly, making you wish you’d just confessed earlier.

Taglist: @grandlightcandy @seokseokjinkim @strxwbloody @enhasunghoonishot @contyynishimura @heewanrik @ranwonbin @leanderexists @lovelyyf @youngheejay @crimson-reaper576 @rikifever @mrsjjongstby @laurradoesloveu @babyboomysweetie @mintchocos-things @nxzz-skz @saphiranishimurashan @ikeupups @yangjungwonnie @xiiaobaoo @itsuen @laylasbunbunny @mellowgalaxystrawberry @firstclassjaylee @questionsdearreader @greeyjre @en-doll @riqomi @lovingvoidgoatee @mitmit01 @miuwonis @aureliaaaa555 @han-to-my-minho @heeweenie @vixensss @ro-diares @hoonvinx @immelissaaa @jiryunn @quilevyt @vrusha01 @kkamismom12 @skzenhalove @theothernads @moonpri @nicoleparadas @fightqueen @heesunghooney @starl0ver4 @jooniesbears-blog @k1arar3 @riri-lvs-food @kolawnk @mitmit01 @dummyf @tender-is-the-moon @dksfml @tobiosbbyghorl @loveydoveyez @beomieeeeeeeeeeees @hhyvsstuff @moondooll @enchantedtomeetyou @desistay @filmofhybe @somuchdard

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[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Back a Ways Part One

Notes: Planning for this to be another two-parter. Not beta-read.

Pairing: Dr. Jack Abbott x Surgeon!Reader

Length: 2.5k

Rating: M

Warnings: Canon-typical medical chat; some cursing; Reader has a brother; Abbott's nickname for Reader is Queenie

Summary: It’s not the first time that someone has made that assumption—thought you and Jack were together, or had a past. But the fact of the matter is, you don’t think that the man’s ever seen you as anything more than his brother-in-arms’ little sister. He’s been around for a long time—since the first time your brother came home for Christmas break from the academy.

“Where are you coming from?” 

You don’t take any offense to the question; you know that it wasn’t lobbed with any. You also know that your attire is out of the ordinary for the ER, but you hadn’t gone out for a drink with the girls thinking that you’d be called back in to work.

Abbott hasn’t given you any more than a passing glance since you arrived but he’s an observant man—one look is enough. 

“Doesn’t matter. I’m right where I’m supposed to be, Abbott,” You fall into step beside him, matching his pace, “Where is she?” 

“South Three. Got here about an hour ago, acute abdominal pain in the lower right quadrant.”

“How long has she been in pain?”

“Day and a half. She had spotting, thought it was period cramps. She asked if we’d call you, see if there’s any way you could’ve left a sponge in her.” 

You snort, unable to help it. “Not a one.”

“You sure?” 

“I’ll have you know that I have a thoroughly unblemished history of leaving my patients entirely spongeless.”

“First time for everything,” He nods to South three as you grow closer. “Two minutes.” 

“OR’s prepped?” 

“In progress.” 

“Who’s handling?” 

“Garcia, covering for Wilkins.”

“And won’t that just be lovely,” You groan, just managing to put on a reassuring smile as you stepped into South Three. “How are we doing in here, Claudia?” 

The slight woman in the hospital bed perks up a bit at the sight of you, her dark hair pulled into a sloppy bun; her typically bright skin is sallow.

“Oh, they got a hold of you!” 

“Of course they did! Though I told you that you could use my number if you needed it.” 

“And she doesn’t say that to everyone,” Abbott adds. You shoot him a sidelong glance as you round the bed to sit on the stool beside it. 

“You feeling alright?” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” Claudia’s lip wobbles, “But I wasn’t sure—”

“No, no, you did the right thing,” You reassure, taking her hand in both of yours. “I’m glad you came in—I’m even glad you saw Dr. Grumpy over here.” 

“Dr. Abbott has been very nice,” Claudia glances between the two of you. 

“Has he? That’s a first,” You tease. 

“Have you considered that I may be nice to everyone but you?” He grumbles.

“It’s crossed my mind, but it just seems so improbable.”

“Dr. Abbott?” You hear, “You’re needed in South One.” 

“Excuse me. Claudia, you’re in good hands.” 

“Thank you, Dr. Abbott.” 

You glance back toward him again as he pats your shoulder before heading out. 

“Dr. Abbott mentioned that you were worried about a sponge,” You turn back to Claudia.

“I was—But he explained that it’s impossible, that you would never do that.” 

You can’t help your small smile, trying to ignore the flutter in your belly. 

“Oddly kind of him.” 

“The two of you seem friendly.” 

You would normally avoid making any comment on the observation, but this distraction seems to have relaxed her, some. 

“Jack and I go back a ways.” 

“You dated?” 

“No! No,” You chuckle. “He and my brother served together overseas—and I was a resident down here for a year. Guess you could say we're used to each other."

“The OR’s ready,” You hear Abbott warn. You straighten, giving Claudia’s hand a light squeeze.

“Is your husband—Harrison? Is he waiting for you in chairs?” 

“Yes, he drove me.”

“Okay. I’ll get him brought to the waiting room upstairs, he’ll be nearby when you wake up. You’re gonna be okay.” 

“Thank you,” Claudia sighs. You let go of her hand as the nurses wheel her away, folding your arms across your chest as you and Abbott watch her go. 

“...Thanks for calling my cell.” 

“Sure." He nudges your arm lightly with his. "Sorry for interrupting your night.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I can only listen to Michelle tell me all of the reasons that she wants to divorce her husband only to insist that she really does love him so many times.” 

“You need better friends, Queenie.” 

You roll your eyes, turning slightly to face him. 

“That’s Doctor Queenie to you.” 

“My apologies.” 

“I’ve gotta go find Claudia’s husband in chairs, let him know that he can head up.” 

Abbott falls into step with you as you turn down the hall. 

“Gonna try to catch back up with the girls?” 

“Mm...Nah. I wasn’t all that up for going out tonight, anyway. Hey, can you keep me updated on Claudia?” 

“Sure.” 

“Thanks.” You let your eyes sweep Abbott’s profile—the tightness around his eyes, the stern set of his jaw. You swipe your tongue over your lips as you face forward again. “Shift going alright?” 

“Mhm.” 

Please. You follow Jack as he settles at his desk, leaning back against it and folding your arms across your chest again.

“...Jack.”

“A little busy here, Queenie.”

“You doing alright?” 

“I answered you.”

“You gave me some bullshit that I didn’t buy.” 

“I don’t have time for chit chat—unless you feel like scrubbing up and clocking in.” 

You shake your head a little, considering. You’re not gonna get to Jack this way—you never have before. 

“...You talk to Everett lately?” You hedge. It’s enough for his fingers to hesitate in their typing before he resumes. 

“Spoke to him this morning.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“He called when I got off shift.” Jack glances up at you. “Why?” 

You shake your head a little. “No, nothing. He’s just, um…” You hesitate. “We haven’t spoken in a while. I was wondering.” 

Jack leans back in his seat, folding his arms across his chest, and it’s your turn to be on the receiving end of a speculative stare. 

“I don’t understand what it is with the two of you,” He finally says.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“It means that he’s your brother, and you’re two sides of the same damn coin. You’re both stubborn know-it-alls who refuse to give an inch when you’re wrong.” 

“That’s not true. I’d give an inch—if I was ever wrong.” 

The smile that curls his lips is more than worth the first two feeble attempts to break through his walls. You can’t help the small smile in turn. 

“You and I haven’t spoken much lately, either,” You remind him softly. You know it’s a mistake immediately—Jack’s smile twitches before it wilts, lips pressing into a thin line as his attention strays back to the chart. You open your mouth to fix it, though you have nothing to say—but there has to be something you can do to get that smile back, some dumb joke, some tease or goad or—

“Jack—”

“Abbott, we need you in seven!” 

You pull in a soft, frustrated breath as he straightens. 

“Any surgical tricks to impart before I check this out?” He asks, taking a few steps back toward the room. You just let your lips twist into a rye, regretful smile. 

“Silly Abbott, tricks are for kids.” 

And that’s it. That’s what gets you that parting smile, accompanied with a small shake of his head. 

--  

Maybe you should’ve met back up with the girls. At least, it might’ve kept you from stewing alone for the rest of the evening. And you do stew. 

“Jack and I go back a ways.”

“You dated?”

You turn Claudia’s question over in your mind as you go through the motions of unwinding for the night—as you change into your pajamas, as you pour yourself a glass of wine to make up for the one that you abandoned at the bar, as you doomscroll through your phone. 

It’s not the first time that someone has made that assumption—thought you and Jack were together, or had a past. But the fact of the matter is, you don’t think that the man’s ever seen you as anything more than his brother-in-arms’ little sister. He’s been around for a long time—since the first time your brother came home for Christmas break from the academy.

You’d come rushing down the stairs to greet your big brother, and there was Jack just behind him, bag slung over his shoulder as he took covert, speculative glances around the front entry. His eyes had landed on you, and you’d frozen. 

It wasn't the way all the books and movies said it would be. Time hadn’t stopped; the world hadn’t seemed brighter, or new, or different. But you were certain that was the moment you'd fallen in love with Jack Abbott.

The crush had budded over the Christmas break, bloomed as he'd left with a promise to keep in touch, and taken full stubborn root when he’d actually kept his promise. His little nickname for you hadn't helped. It had started disparagingly after he'd heard you boss Everett around, and he'd gotten on you for acting like you were the queen of the house. But over time, his tease of, "Queenie," had softened and stuck.

You’d never acted on your feelings—you hadn’t known how. He was so close to Everett, and the growing chasm between yourself and your brother only seemed to worsen as he spent more time away. He didn’t keep up with you like Jack did—hardly answered calls, emails. Everett didn’t go out of his way to ignore you when he was home, but when he wasn’t, he just didn’t make the effort. 

Jack made the effort. He became a fixture in the house over breaks, a constant at the dinner table when both he and Everett were home. 

Your interest in medicine had sprung up independently of him, but it had been something else for the two of you to talk about. Jack was generous with his time, his opinions, his notes, his help. The contact had kept up while he and Everett were overseas, and when they’d come home. Winding up in the Pitt as a resident under Jack hadn’t been a coincidence by any measure. 

But after years on the battlefield, Jack was suited to the ER. The flurry of it was something that you never got used to—you always felt off-kilter. Switching your residency program had been a difficult decision and a helluva process.

And there had been something in Jack’s face when you’d told him that you were moving to a surgical residency, something that you couldn’t pin down there. It wasn’t disappointment (and that had been a relief—you couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing him). But whatever his ideas about your change of heart, he had been supportive. 

Still, the calls had waned, the texts had become few and far between. You can chalk it up to the fact that you’re both doctors, both in demanding environments, both worn to the bone with weariness on a daily basis. 

“Any surgical tricks to impart before I check this out?”

As if he needs tricks from you. 

Your eyes drift to the time on your phone. Has he taken his break yet? Would he have taken one if you hadn’t followed him to his desk, distracted him?

“Jack and I go back a ways.”

It wasn’t a lie by any means. But the problem has never been going back aways with Jack. The problem is finding a way to move forward.

-- 

“How many times are you gonna turn that nice man down?” 

It’s asked with an almost motherly knowing, and you can’t help your begrudging smile as you give Dana a shake of your head. You'd hoped that she'd missed that part of your conversation with your fellow surgeon, but it was a foolish hope—Dana never misses anything.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, please,” She laughs, looking toward where David was speaking with Claudia. “If I was your age and single…He wouldn’t have to ask me twice.”

“I work with him on a daily basis.”

“So what, you think if things went bad he’d refuse to pass you a scalpel in the middle of a procedure?” 

“Among other things.”

“What are we talking about over here?” Robby’s the one that asks it, but the sight of Abbott just a few steps behind makes you clam up. “And what have we done to earn the presence of two surgeons in the ER this fine morning?” 

“Wilkins and I are just down to check on a patient.”

“Claudia?” Abbott asks, and you nod. 

“I spoke to her, she’s doing well. Just in for a follow-up. Dotting her t’s crossing her i’s.” 

“I think those are swapped,” Princess mutters behind you. 

“We were talking about the fact that this one gave Dr. Wilkins the brush-off again,” Dana reports with a nod toward you. The plainness of it, coupled with looks from both Robby and Abbott, makes heat flare up in your face as you focus studiously on the tracking board. 

“Okay, seems a little personal,” Robby manages. You wince, tipping your head from side to side. No other comment follows. Your ears fill with the familiar hubbub of the ER—the footsteps, the rolling of gurneys, the beeping of machines, the call for medications, bandages, blood. But there’s something there that you haven’t felt since you were a resident—Jack's lingering stare. 

-- 

"Dinner, Friday?"

"With me on the night shift for the next week? Sure," You drawl sarcastically. "You gonna reserve the break room?"

"Family room. More ambiance."

You scoff a laugh, turning your attention back to your computer as Dr. David Wilkins rounds your desk. 

"Breakfast date, then," He counters, leaning against your desk. "I'm sure we could work something out. Get sandwiches from the good cart around the corner."

"Could just grab a couple of sandwiches from the bin in the ER.” 

"We'll grab coffee from the bad cart, then."

“What is it with you and those carts?” 

“I’m supporting local businesses.” 

You can’t help your smile widening as you update a patient’s chart. 

“Very admirable of you, Dr. Wilkins.”

The lull in his answer and the brief retreat of his steps makes you think that he’s given up, but he’s pulling a chair up just a moment later, leaning over your shoulder. You don’t let it rattle you—half of your job is spent with someone in close quarters looking over your shoulder. 

“You spelled ‘succinylcholine’ wrong.” 

“No, I didn’t.” 

“You didn’t even check.” 

“What do you want, David?” 

“To know how you take your coffee for when I get it from the bad cart.” 

You sigh softly, turning away from your computer to get a better look at him. His wiley little smile is so familiar, lips parting slightly to reveal a row of perfectly white teeth; bright blue eyes blink almost prettily at you as he waits for your answer. 

And you’re not sure what it is that nudges you—the little look Dana gave you, the way you'd felt Jack’s eyes burning into the back of your head, or the fact that you know David is a genuinely nice guy. But for the first time in a long time, you take a leap. 

“...I take my coffee black,” You finally say, “Regardless of what cart you get it from.” 

David nods slowly, smile widening. “Okay. Friday morning?” 

You turn back to the screen, and nod, even as your stomach twists itself into knots.

“Sure, David. Friday.”

Tag list:

@missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @amneris21 ; 

@ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage​​​ ;  @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; 

@millllenniawrites ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; 

@thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @realwhoreforfictionalmen

 ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; 

@winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989

[finalgirlfall]

transcription of text in first image:

DONNA TARTT, LETTER TO JONATHAN LETHEM, DATED JANUARY 24, 1983 (DURING WINTER BREAK): I am now in Washington with The Man [Paul McGloin]. We have a nice little apartment in an old townhouse near Capitol Hill and all is well. . . . The raciest thing that’s happened to us was when we overheard a museum guard in the National Gallery mutter, “More faggots” as we walked into the room. (I was wearing a baggy sweater and trousers, no makeup, and my customary shapeless gray tweed coat. Perhaps I did look like a boy. . . .) It pleased Paul no end.

transcription of text in second image:

TODD O’NEAL: Paul and Donna weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend. They were boyfriend and boy. She had a uniform. Black loafers, khaki pants—boys’ pants, not girls’—J. Press–type button-down, necktie, blue blazer with brass buttons, and hair in this funky little asexual bob. She looked like she came straight out of an English university. She and Paul were like Oxonian homosexuals or something. I once asked him, “What kind of relationship do you have?” And he said, “Well, that’s very funny, because she wants me to call her ‘my lad.’ ”

[unlocked link to the article both excerpts are from.]

Donna tartt wrote these gay guys so well because she did participatory field research asa gay man

[eunandonly]

FAKE DATING WITH BOYNEXTDOOR

fake dating boynextdoor was easy–until it started feeling real

( 対 ) boynextdoor + fem. reader 1477WC · fake dating trope contains! fake dating, skinship, language / archive

은 : i'm going to try my best to be a bit more active on blr now that i'm on spring break >< i hope you guys enjoy this fic!! ily <3

myung jaehyun 

when you ask myung jaehyun to fake date, he agrees to it immediately, flashing you that signature smirk. it almost worries you when you see the grin. you know he’s up to absolutely no good.

he treats it like a game at first, but you find the way he slips into the role so effortlessly almost unnerving. he throws his arm over your shoulder in public, calling you “babe” without hesitation and teases you whenever you get flustered. 

“you’re blushing,” he whispers, lips barely grazing your ear as you try to keep your face neutral. “are you falling for me already?”

cocky bastard.

jaehyun finds your reactions entertaining, but there’s a strange possessiveness in the way he glares at anyone who talks to you, or looks at you a bit too long. he nearly punches a guy trying to get your phone number, and when you call him out, he just shrugs, claiming that it “needs to be convincing.”

he takes you by surprise by remembering little things about you, how you take your coffee, your favourite snack. he brushes it off with a casual “a boyfriend would do this.” 

but the longer this goes on, the less it feels fake. you catch him staring when he thinks you’re not looking, his teasing flirty remarks losing its playfulness. 

“you know,” he says one day, his voice softer than usual. “i think I might've forgotten to pretend.”

park sungho

sungho hesitates when you first tell him your idea. you tell him it’s a great idea; fake dating so that you can get your ex boyfriend back, and he can get back his ex girlfriend. killing two birds with one stone, you say. sungho’s not too sure, but he gives in after some begging from your side.

sungho isn’t sure why, but the thought of pretending to be your boyfriend makes him unreasonably nervous. 

at first, he’s awkward–stuttering over pet names, clearing his throat when you hold his hand. but he still finds himself holding doors open for you, carrying your things without being asked, offering you his jacket when the weather gets chilly. the first time you kiss him, it’s on the cheek, and sungho practically freezes, ears tomato red as he tries his best to avoid your gaze. 

“we should practice more,” he says out of the blue one day. “it needs to be convincing.”

you’re quick to tell him that you’re already being convincing, that it’s him that’s the problem.

sungho’s careful with boundaries, always asking, ‘is this okay?” before touching you in any way. but then things start shifting, there’s no denying it. he texts you good morning without thinking, lingers a little too long after fixing your scarf, gets defensive when someone asks about your relationship. 

park sungho doesn’t realise he’s falling until it’s too late.

“i don’t want this to be fake anymore,” he says one night, standing outside your door whilst fidgeting with his sleeves. “forget about my ex, i want you.”

lee sanghyuk

riwoo finds the whole situation really fucking funny. 

“fake dating? how desperately do you want that asshole back? yeah, i’ll do it, it’s gonna be so fun.”

yeah well, it's fun. for him.

from the moment you two announce your “relationship”, he plays it up like you’re in some kind of terribly cliche, terribly cheesy romance movie, throwing dramatic love confessions at random.

“my love, i would walk through fire for you!” he declares loudly in the school hallway, before snickering as you try your best to do damage control to no avail. 

riwoo’s constantly teasing, winking at you in class and whispering stupid things like, “careful, you might actually fall for me.” just to see your face redden in embarrassment. but then there are moments when he tones it down, and it’s a bit too natural–the way he rests his head on your shoulder when he’s tired, or the way his hand absentmindedly finds yours.

“why’re you blushing?” he teases, but he’s blushing too. 

the problem is, he never knows himself when he’s joking and when he’s being serious. he tells himself it’s just an act, just a way for you to get back your dickhead boyfriend who looks like a two out of ten. but he finds his heart stuttering when you look at him just right. 

and soon, riwoo finds himself wishing the act would never end. 

one day he turns to you, his usual stupid grin plastered on his face, but there’s something softer behind it. 

“so, uh, what if we didn’t stop fake dating?”

han dongmin

when you ask han taesan to be your fake boyfriend to make you ex jealous, he barely reacts. barely even raises his head, murmuring, “sure,” as if you just asked him to pass the salt. 

annoying little bitch.

but beneath his cool, nonchalant exterior (that’s what he thinks), his mind is racing.

he’s not the person for over-the-type gestures, but he shows affection in the smallest ways–remembering your favourite drink order, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, pulling you closer when walking near traffic. you applaud his for being boyfriend material and make a point to very loudly wonder why he’s never had a girlfriend before remembering, aha, his personality is shit.

han taesan insists he doesn’t care about pda, but if someone questions your relationship, he’ll kiss your cheek without a second thought. 

“see? believable.” he says, ignoring the way his heart is pounding. he does it so naturally that even he forgets it’s fake sometimes. he texts you late at night to check if you’ve eaten and gets irritated when other guys get too close. but taesan’s stubborn, and he spends most of his time gaslighting himself that he doesn’t like you like that, brushing it off as just an act. 

then one day, he catches himself staring, thinking how you look a little bit too pretty, hands itching to reach for yours. 

“you said i’m boyfriend material, right?” he asks, catching you by surprise.

“yeah sure.”

“ok, well how about you give up on your shitty ex and we date for real? i’m like, hotter than him too.”

kim donghyun

leehan takes the whole fake dating thing very, very seriously. when you tell him about your ideas, he looks more determined than you, face serious as he says, “if we’re going to do this, we really have to sell it.” you end up having to ask him if he has an ex girlfriend he wants back, because there’s no way he should be this invested in the whole plan.

he makes you practice with him; holding hands, casual touches, so it looks natural. but the more you two practice, the more it starts feeling real. he’s always respectful, never crossing boundaries and always asking if you’re comfortable. but he’s a little too good at being a boyfriend. he ties your shoelaces when they come undone, carries your bag without you asking and smiles at you in a way that makes your heart ache. 

“why’re you looking at me like that?” you ask one day when you catch him staring at you in the restaurant on one of your fake dates. 

leehan just grins. “because you’re cute.”

it’s moments like these that make you forget this isn’t real. but then he starts getting flustered–hesitating before calling you pet names, looking away too quickly when you catch him staring. he’s the first to realise his feelings, but it takes him forever to act on them.

one evening, he exhales deeply before turning to you. “so… what if we kept dating?” he asks, nervous but hopeful. “for real this time?”

kim woonhak

woonhak is way too excited to date you. yeah, it’s fake, but he’s still technically dating you. he’s already planning out cute couple photos. 

woonhak fully commits, calling you cute nicknames, being your personal hype boy, and practically beaming with excitement when you’re around.

you think he’s kind of cute.

“this is my girlfriend,” woonhak announces to everyone, holding your hand. “she’s so pretty isn’t she? yeah, well she’s super smart as well, and-”

he’s affectionate without realising–holding your hand, fixing your hair, resting his chin on your shoulder. it’s all a joke to him at first, but then he starts feeling weird.

why does his heart race when you smile at him? why does he hate seeing other people flirt with you?

“i’m not jealous,” he insists, but his pout says otherwise. 

one day, you joke about breaking up just to see his reaction, and he gasps dramatically.

“if we ‘break up, i’m keeping the dog we don’t have.” 

but behind the playful tone, there’s real fear. he’s known for a while now, this isn’t fake to him anymore. one evening, as you’re walking home together, he suddenly blurts out, “wait, you didn’t know? i fell for you ages ago.”

[golddustwomanwins]

SAY YES TO HEAVEN pt. 2

Innocent Art Donaldson x Experienced reader

Part 1

18+

To everyone's surprise you and Art kept hanging out. It was like you two were joined at the hip. Instead of sitting in the front row, Art joined you and Tashi I. The row farther back. Your thighs pressed together under the table but no one noticed, Art dutily writing every word the professor said. The only indicator was his flushed cheeks.

He joined you for lunches or stayed late at night doing homework. And that was not exaggerated, he did do the homework while you babbled on.

Tashi kept rolling her eyes at every interaction you two had. The obvious push and pull that was going on between you was ridiculous. After a lecture, you parted with Art and Tashi pulled you to the side by your arm.

"What do you think you're doing?" Tashi asked you.

"What do you mean?"

"You're torturing the poor boy. Just let him go." Tashi only wanted your best but you genuinely didn't know what she was on about this time.

"The dude is having a boner every time you glance at him." "We're just friends—" you tried to protest and Tashi arched a brow at you. She was right. You were being selfish. So what if Art was the only man who actually looked at you? Really looked at you. You enjoyed having sex with people but that didn't mean you would just sleep with anyone. It was annoying how every other guy would butter you up, thinking you would eventually agree to fuck them.

Art wasn't like that. Or you thought he wasn't like that. His faith wouldn't allow him to want you in that way. Funny how you would gladly say yes to him, if he'd ask.

"I won't touch him," you promised her. You didn't even know why. You didn't want to taint him. He was innocent and not corrupted like most of the guys on campus. You wanted to cherish that. Have him for yourself a little longer until he would find a nice girl to marry and settle down with.

"Maybe you won't," Tashi said a strange smile on her lips, "but he will. Leading him on, will only make him fall and he can't fall."

Something tugged at your chest at her words. Tashi wound her arm around your waist, squeezing gently. "Just trying to protect you. You might think he's different because he isn't saying anything but under all that good boy persona is only a guy. And dating someone with that kind of boundaries is not a good idea. In the end it'll break both your hearts."

You both walked towards the cafeteria in silence, her arm still around you. You kept thinking about her words, wondering if she was right. *

The same evening Art asked if he could come by your dorm to finish your essays together. He had grown slightly more comfortable around you. He stopped stuttering for one but the flush stayed. Secretly you’d enjoy the way the crimson shot into his cheeks when your hands brushed on accident.

He was sitting at your desk in casual attire. Seeing Art Donaldson in grey sweatpants wasn't something you thought you'd witness in this life. But there he was, one leg drawn up as he typed away at his keyboard, white shirt straining around his bicep. Despite his persona, Art was awfully fit. Whatever he was doing in his free time—if he even had any besides studying—it worked. A little too well.

You were lying on your stomach on your bed, ankles crossed in the air as you tried to focus on your notes. Instead your eyes found Art again and again. What Tashi said had you spiraling for hours now and you didn't know how to stop.

The flush spreading down the back of Art's neck told you that he was noticing you staring. You needed to say something or else you were going to explode.

"Did you ever have a girlfriend before?"

Art stiffened slightly before turning to look at you. "What?"

"Did you ever have a girlfriend?" you persist, shoving your notes away and sitting up, criss crossed on your bed.

"Why?" he asked, eyes dipping down to your legs. You were only dressed in teensy tiny cotton shorts and a pointelle tank top, no bra. Something to be comfortable in.

"Just curious," you shrugged. He turned back to his laptop and you thought he wouldn't answer. Instead he made sure to save his written text before turning back around to look at you. Better be safe than sorry.

"I did. In High School, we were going to the same church," Art said. Of course they did.

"How long were you together?"

"Three years." Your eyes widened surprised. "Three years?" you wheezed.

"It wasn't-wasn't how you think it was." You chuckled. "How do I think it was?"

He flushed slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. "We were mostly just friends. Mary-Anne was a nice girl."

Yeah, you could imagine it. A little dainty blonde girl, picture perfect. Straight A's, little bow ties in her hair. Long dress billowing around her figure. A crucifix dangling from her soft neck.

You blinked out of your strange fantasy and focused on Art who was eyeing you strangely. "Why didn't it work out?"

He laughed haughtily, glancing at the floor. "We had different...uhh interests."

"Different interests?" you prodded, crawling to the edge of the bed to be closer to him. "That's oddly vague. Being at the same church isn't enough?" you tease.

Art shifted slightly in his seat and your eyes dipped down to his grey sweats, a prominent line straining against the fabric at his thigh. Your core clenched at the sight but you stayed put, waiting for him to elaborate.

When he didn't, only growing redder, you pieced it together.

"You naughty boy, Art," you couldn't help yourself but chuckle at the horrified look on his face. "You wanted more and she didn't."

"N-no I—“ "Art, it's totally normal to have urges and sexual desires," you told him. His eyes found yours desperately as if he didn't want to hear you say the word sexual.

"It's my responsibility to keep them at bay. She was right," he clutched at his necklace again as if to anchor himself. Your eyes dipped to the cross slipping between his fingers.

"Was she? Everyone of us does it. Have sex. None of them have dropped dead yet."

"Don't say that," Art shook his head vehemently. It genuinely looked like he was scared and, duh, of course he did. You knew how he was and shouldn’t be surprised. Sometimes you forgot, hanging around guys in college who usually couldn’t care less about faith.

"What?" You asked surprised. Suddenly Art stood up, almost angry.

"It's sinful. I'm better than that."

"What? So because I have sex I am bad?" You prod slightly defensive. His features soften. "NO. Never." He dropped to his knees in front of you, hands finding your knees.

"That's not what I meant," he assured, His eyes dipped down where his hands were clutching your knees.

"What did you mean?" You said. You looked down at Art as he stared up at you like he was on his knees praying to you.

"You're good," he insisted not caring that it didn't make sense. "I don't know why you sell yourself so short why you..." He couldn't speak the words without embarrassment.

"Why I have casual sex?" you finished for him. He nodded, not looking at you. You took his chin in your hands and tilted his head up for you. "Because I enjoy it. Because it feels good."

He tilted his head in your hand further, almost begging you to give him more. Something thrilled inside you at his keenness.

"Did you ever have an orgasm, Art?"

His lids fluttered shut in shame and he let his head hang low.

"Hey," you soothed him, letting him prop his head in your lap as you brushed through his curls.

"It's nothing to be ashamed off, Art. It doesn't make you a bad person to want." You stroked through his curls as you felt something wet on your thighs. Art was crying. A soft sob crept into the space around you and you kept stroking his curls.

"Art," you whispered but he shook his head.

"I shouldn't have done it. I tried not to, I swear, I tried with all my might. I should know better. Should stay away from temptation.." he was a blubbering mess, arms encircling your waist as he buried himself against your stomach, crying into your shirt.

Goosebumps crept onto your skin, nipples pebbling as his nose bumped against your middle repeatedly. He was crying and you were aroused by it. You were the worst person to ever exist.

"Art—“ you tried but he wouldn't listen to you.

"I prayed that night, multiple times. But it can never be washed away. I sinned and you know what the worst part is?" he looked up at you with teary eyes and spit clinging to his parted, slightly swollen lips.

"What?" you asked.

"I would do it again." There it was again. That look.

You shivered as he looked up at you with his wide innocent eyes. His words hung heavy in the air both of you knowing what he meant. Slowly you eased back on the mattress, pulling him by his shirt. When you glanced down, you could see that he was fully hard, cock straining against his sweatpants.

You settled against the headboard, Art between your legs, still staring at you as if you'd be the cure to his disease.

"Do you remember the first time you looked at me in class?" he asked quietly, leaning into your touch when you traced his jaw with the tips of your fingers. You nodded slowly.

"Couldn't stop thinking about you afterwards," Art confessed. "I did it that same night." Shame was clinging to his words.

"Yeah?" you asked and he nodded quickly as if he wanted to please you. You softly brushed the curls out of his face.

"What did you do? Did you fuck your fist?"

Art almost choked at your blunt words, pretty flush covering his peachy skin. He shook his head quickly.

"I didn't, I—" he couldn't finish.

"Show me."

His eyes snapped back to meet yours. "Show you?"

"Yeah. Show me how you made yourself come." You didn't stop stroking his curls, easing him in between you.

"I can't-t," he stuttered and you sighed.

"Is that not what you wanted?" you asked. He swallowed slightly but nodded.

"Then show me," you let go of his curls and he shifted slightly lower, your legs splitting to make more room for him. Art slowly started to grind his hips against the mattress between your hips. A soft desperate sound parted his shiny lips. You watched him with parted lips and his eyes stayed on your face as he moaned your name.

His thrusts became quicker, tears glistening in his eyes. "I-I imagined it was you-ahh-lying under me." Even his voice was tinged with shame as he rutted against the mattress. He was so desperate, the headboard kept slamming against the wall behind you. You refrained from pushing your legs together to ease the pain in your core at the sight in front of you.

"Yeah?" you asked. "You wanted to bury your cock inside me?" Art moaned again, face falling against your calf. His lips grazed your skin when your hands found his jaw.

“Wanted to spill your cum inside me and breed me?” You kept pushing and he groaned

“D-don’t say that,” he huffed but his hips moved frantically at your words.

“Why? Because it’s true?” He whimpered against your leg.

"Stop,” you told him.

"W-what?" he asked desperately but stopped humping the bed. You slowly pulled him upwards as you sunk down on the mattress. He was hovering above you, bicep caging you in. Your eyes dipped down to the wet fabric of his sweats, pre soaking it. His necklace was dangling right in front of you, gold specks reflecting from the lights.

"W-what are you doing?" he asked with flushed cheeks. His brain was all fuzzy with arousal.

"You wanted me to be under you, didn't you?" your hands found his hips and pulled him down. You both moaned when your pelvises met, his cock rubbing right against your clit.

"Then use me," you said. "'M not gonna touch you, Art, no sin if no one's touching right?" You used his loophole. He stared down at you panting, his eyes full of eager glee. In the state he was in Art would agree to any offer you'd give him. You showed him you'd behave by putting your hands on the mattress beside you, not touching him. He could use you the way he wanted to.

Slowly his hips started to move against you, startling a moan out of both of you. Art couldn't believe what was happening as he fucked you over your clothes. The sight of you beneath him was ethereal. Your back arched, pushing your tits out, nipples pebbled against the soft material of your top. Your lips were parted, soft sounds escaping past the pink gloss. You didn't have make up on, didn't feel the need if it was just you and Art but you always insisted on putting the gloss on for hydration reasons (not because you loved the way his eyes would repeatedly drop down to them).

His thrusts became harder and faster, the head of his cock escaping his sweats and peaking just over.

"Art," you sighed. The friction felt good but it was not enough.

"Yeah?" he barely heard you, rutting against you and chasing his own pleasure.

"Need to tilt your hips so I can feel more," you sighed and your hands found his hips to show him how.

When he pumped against you this time you arched your back harder and moaned. Art stared down at you mystified. He lifted one shaky hand finger finding your bottom lip and pressing. You pressed a quick kiss against the tip of his thumb and Art shivered.

The headboard kept banging against the wall as Art picked up his pace. He was ramming you into the mattress brutally, his fingers trailing from your lips down your throat. "You're so beautiful. Made for me-ahh," he mumbled on.

His hands found the collar of your top and you moaned when he tucked it down, tits spilling out. Before Art could stop what was happening he was rutting into you sloppily, burying his face in your neck.

"I'm gonna—fuck—oh god, oh god." He kept on rambling. “This is wrong—no,no,no.”

It sounded like he was praying as he pushed against you a few more times, before you felt something wet against your shorts. Art sagged against you, crushing you with his weight as his face nuzzled your neck.

The mattress kept bouncing slightly until you realized he was crying again. Your hands found his curls, staring at a crack in the ceiling. Your pelvis flush against yours, sticky mess remaining between both of you.

[scoupsakakitty]

little sister reader (scoups or mingyu) where she gets verbally attacked by fans for being close with ateez (wooyoung or San)?

Just Friends | idol!Scoups x sister!reader| angst, fluff | mentions of Wooyoung

Y/N had been through internet drama before. It came with the territory of being one of the biggest influencers in Korea—and, of course, being the little sister of Choi Seungcheol. She knew how quickly rumors spread, how fast people turned on you, how suddenly the internet could love you one second and hate you the next. But this? This was something else entirely.

It all started with a shopping trip.

Y/N had spent the afternoon with Wooyoung, one of her closest friends, just casually strolling through the streets of Seoul, laughing, chatting, and occasionally stopping to snap pictures of cute accessories and clothes. They weren’t hiding. Why would they? It wasn’t like they were doing anything wrong.

But when you had millions of followers, and your friend was an idol from one of the biggest boy groups, every little thing turned into a scandal.

By the time Y/N got home that evening, her phone was buzzing nonstop. Her social media was exploding.

[BREAKING] ATEEZ’s Wooyoung spotted shopping with influencer Y/N! Dating rumors ignite after viral photos surface. #WooyoungY/N #NewCoupleAlert

Y/N groaned as she scrolled through Twitter (or rather, the battlefield formerly known as Twitter). The pictures were everywhere. Some of them were innocent—just her and Wooyoung walking side by side, laughing. But others…

One particular shot showed Wooyoung playfully fixing a strand of her hair while she smiled up at him. Another caught him holding her wrist gently as they crossed a busy street.

And of course, the internet lost its mind.

Some fans were thrilled, gushing about how cute they looked together. Others? Not so much. Hate comments flooded her notifications.

“She’s just using Wooyoung for attention.” “She’s not even an idol. Why does she get to hang out with him?” “I knew she was a clout chaser.”

Then there were Carats who had mixed reactions. Some were protective, defending her, while others were… less kind.

“Why is S.Coups’ sister getting involved with idols? This is embarrassing.” “She needs to stop bringing scandals to Seventeen.”

Her stomach twisted uncomfortably. She hated this. No matter how much time passed, no matter how much she grew, people still saw her as nothing more than “S.Coups’ little sister.”

A loud knock on her bedroom door made her jump. Before she could respond, the door swung open, and there stood her brother, arms crossed, an unimpressed expression on his face.

“Y/N,” he sighed, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Oh boy. Here we go.

She tossed her phone onto her bed and crossed her arms, mirroring his stance. “I was thinking that I’d spend the day with my friend. Didn’t know that was a crime.”

Seungcheol exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You know exactly what I mean. You and Wooyoung, in public, acting all… close. Did you really not think people would start talking?”

“Acting close? We were literally just hanging out.”

“Tell that to the internet,” he shot back. “Do you have any idea how much of a mess this is? My phone’s been blowing up all evening. The company is already getting questions about it. Not to mention, people are dragging Seventeen into this because you’re my sister.”

Y/N clenched her fists. “So what? I should just stop having friends because people might make up stupid rumors?”

“That’s not what I’m saying, and you know it,” Seungcheol said, voice softer now. “But you need to be more careful. You know how this industry works. People see what they want to see. And Wooyoung—”

“What about him?” she snapped.

Seungcheol hesitated before shaking his head. “I just… I don’t get it. Why are you so close with him? Since when?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Since forever? You know Yeonjun, right? Well, he introduced us a while back, and we just clicked. He’s fun, he’s easy to talk to, and he doesn’t treat me like I’m some fragile little sister who needs to be protected all the time.”

Her brother’s jaw tightened. “That’s not—”

“It is,” she interrupted. “I get that you’re worried, but Wooyoung is one of my best friends. That’s all there is to it.”

Seungcheol studied her for a long moment, then let out a sigh. “Don’t lie to me, Y/N. I know you have feelings for him.”

Her breath hitched, but she quickly masked it with a scoff. “So what if I do?” she muttered, avoiding his gaze. “It doesn’t matter that I have feelings for him. We are still just friends.”

Seungcheol’s expression softened. “Y/N…”

She shook her head. “No, seriously. It doesn’t matter. It won’t change anything. He doesn’t see me that way, and even if he did, it wouldn’t make a difference. The world wouldn’t let it.”

Seungcheol looked like he wanted to argue, but instead, he just sighed again, rubbing the back of his neck. “You should still be careful. Not everyone will believe that you’re just friends.”

“I know,” she muttered, suddenly feeling drained. “But I can’t live my life based on what strangers on the internet think.”

Seungcheol’s expression softened even more. “I get it. I really do. But if things get worse, let me know, okay?”

She managed a small smile. “Yeah. Okay.”

As her brother left the room, Y/N picked up her phone again. Her notifications were still a mess, but this time, she saw a new message at the top of her chat.

[Wooyoung]: You good? Don’t let the haters get to you. Yeonjun and I are ready to fight if needed.

She laughed quietly, shaking her head.

No matter what the internet said, she knew one thing for sure: she had real friends who had her back.

[leonystic]

Ok, imagine Leona's reaction to male reader rolling up to Savannaclaw in nothing but a crop top and booty shorts with his laundry in hand like "Ay yo, my laundromat's busted. Can I use yours?"

leona's afternoons during the weekend were quiet, if not completely empty. most of the students would be sleeping off the exhaustion of the week, giving him enough time and space to do whatever he liked during the day. so why, why were you here, dressed like that, laundry basket in hand? on his peaceful afternoon? standing in the doorway, holding a basket of laundry, wearing nothing but a criminally tight crop top and the shortest shorts he’d ever seen?

"yo," you called casually, shifting the basket on your hip, completely unaware of the absolute crisis you were causing to him. "my laundromat’s busted. can i just use yours?" leona stared, mind absolutely blank with the only thing being static, because holy shit. he'd always known you were hot, but this? this was different, and fucking unfair. this was some kind of higher-power punishment for all his past sins because there was no way you should look this good while doing something as mundane as laundry.

the crop top clung to you just right, teasing your waist and abdomen, and the shorts? they couldn't be shorts, they were a threat to his fucking sanity. the way they hugged your thighs, how they rode up when you shifted your stance- leona could feel a growl building in his chest, primal and possessive, and asbolutely unwarranted, since you two weren't even dating. he sat up slowly, one elbow on the armrest, eyes dark and hungry. walking into my dorm dressed like that, flaunting all this," he smirked, though his voice came out a little rougher than usual. "you looking for trouble, herbivore?"

you raised an eyebrow, oblivious and downright cruel to his crisis. "i’m looking for a fucking washing machine, leona." leona dragged a hand down his face in his mind. for fuck's sake. he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, eyes dragging up and down your frame without shame.

"yeah, yeah, whatever ya need. stay as long as you want. but if you’re gonna be walkin’ around like that, don’t be surprised if you leave here with more than just clean laundry."

you blinked. “what?”

leona just grinned wider at that, sharp teeth flashing. you had no idea what you just started.

[rhyrhy]

Tryouts!

𖤐 Synopsis: Abby Anderson, known for her carefree reputation, finds herself drawn to a no-nonsense cheerleader. What starts as harmless flirting takes a sharp left into chaos, featuring bruised egos, unresolved baggage, As tensions rise, the real question remains—can the two of you move past first impressions?

[Content Warnings:] MDNI, angst, modern AU, sexual tension, fuckboy quarterback Abby x mean cheerleader reader, angst/smut, gays who can’t communicate. Intoxication, Cringe: Abby with zero rizz.

࿔ A/N: back from vacation with a little something Based on this drabble. I know this trope has been run into the ground, but let’s be real—the gay version of everything is always better

Index (on going)

Prologue: “how to ruin a party in 30 seconds or less” 3k words

Chapter 1: “denial is a team sport”

How to Ruin a Party in 30 Seconds or Less

“Fuckboy, player, heartbreaker.”

She’d heard it all—each insult more cliché than the last.

Abby never set out to be any of those things. It just kind of… happened. She came out later than most, stumbling through her sexuality, unsure how to carry it at first. It felt heavier than the 203 pounds she could deadlift. In high school, dating was a formality—one guy, no real connection.

It wasn’t until college that it clicked: she’d never felt right with them because she wasn’t meant to. Most labels felt strange, even suffocating. “Lesbian” felt too big, too official, so she avoided saying it aloud for as long as possible—unsure if it would even roll off her tongue correctly.

Then came her first real relationship. It ended before it even began. She wasn’t ready, fumbling through the emotional part, ghosting before things got too serious. After that, she stuck to what she did best: keeping things light. Hookups were easier than messy emotions. They didn’t ask for much, and she didn’t have to give anything away. Eventually, the reputation followed. At first, she snapped back at teammates’ jokes, but in time she learned to laugh it off. Honestly? It wasn’t entirely wrong.

Now, she wore what she used to fear as a second skin. Attending her dream school, she earned pats on the back from a team she’d only ever dreamed of joining. Sweat beaded on her forehead after every game—a reminder of how far she’d come. This was her paradise.

But deep down, Abby knew she was just dodging the real issue. She wasn’t afraid of commitment; she was afraid of feeling something for someone and not knowing what to do with it. And so, she remained safely in her own world.

But you? You didn’t get it. How could this possibly be enjoyable?

Sitting in the middle of a frat party, you longed to go home, wash your makeup off, and collapse onto your sheets. You hated events like these—especially when sober. The booming bass, the humid, sticky air, the blinding lights, and worse—the clumsy chaos of students. You never understood why you let your friends drag you here. But as part of the cheer team, skipping meant endless group-chat nagging—and you never were in the mood for that.

Throwing a ball around or getting tackled by girls twice your size wasn’t your thing. But ponytails, the rustle of pompoms, and the feeling of wind with every toe touch—that was your world.

Your best friend and team captain, Dina, who had held your hand through every drill, every first shave in middle school, and your recent breakup, was nowhere to be seen.

After settling in the living room, you figured a joint would help you zone out until Dina—and the rest of your ride—showed up. At some point, you found yourself face-to-face with the campus’ one and only Abby Anderson.

She’d been throwing looks all night, a silent challenge that told you everything: Abby was a well-known player, and the rumors weren’t flattering. Kissing and quitting? Not your scene. You’d crossed paths before—mostly during warm-ups on the field—but tonight, she slunk onto the couch beside you and started a conversation as if it were casual banter. Of course, it was calculated—but you indulged her, if only a little.

You were not interested.

Not after Valeria Martinez paraded you around as her girl, making sure everyone knew you weren’t the only one. Learning it all from some stupid “expose” page run by an idiot with too much time—it had been a sapphic nightmare. You’d poured your heart into routines and performances, trying to block out the frown that threatened to appear every time you entered the locker room. You’d held back soft sobs over a girl who played you like a fiddle—a bench-warming football player who couldn’t even find your clit.

So no. You were absolutely not interested in going through that again.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Yet, unknowingly, you were judging Abby—a 6’0-something force of nature—entirely by her cover. If you’d looked closer—if you’d seen beyond the cool exterior—you’d know that Abby had her own routine. The gym, practice, study, sleep… it kept her sane. It gave her focus. And it worked… until you.

Until freshman move-in day, when she first saw you and dismissed you as just another pretty face. But then she found herself lingering on your social media, scrolling a little too long, just… staring at certain pictures. When she saw her teammates following you after the breakup with Martinez, her upper lip twitched in unknowing irritation.

She avoided you after that—pretended you didn’t exist—because it was easier than facing how you made her heart hammer against her ribs. The way she wanted you, even if you didn’t notice. But last night, she told herself, fuck it. If you weren’t going to make a move, she would.

A few jokes, a couple of lingering glances, and then—her fingers found their way under your chin, tilting your face toward hers. Your breath hitched. Her grip was firm, yet gentle enough for you to pull away if you dared. Almost as if she was testing you.

So close—just inches away. The heat radiating off her body, the defined collarbones peeking through the neckline of her jersey. Her gaze roamed over your features, as if she were committing them to memory, and when her blue eyes locked onto yours, you couldn’t look away.

The music pulsed around you, shifting, The slower beat stretched the moment, making it feel eternal. You didn’t move—why would you? She was convinced you’d fold like every other girl who caved under her size 10 cleats. But you weren’t going to. You couldn’t.

You were almost certain that if she closed the gap, you’d kiss her back. And that? That would be a problem. Because if she did, you’d pull her closer until the only thing you could smell was her.

Instead, you rolled your eyes and leaned back, your hair spraying across the sofa as you broke the moment.

“You’re such a pain in the ass,” Abby chuckled, her ego slightly bruised as her hand dropped from your chin. She punctuated it with a dramatic lip smack.

“Because I don’t want to fuck you?” you said, taking a slow drag from your joint. “Or because I’m not entertaining you?”

“Shit, both.” She shrugged, mentally slapping herself. She knew she’d come on too strong, and now she worried you might not even be into her type. So she doubled down.

“Especially the first one,” she added, dragging her eyes down your outfit before flicking them back up.

“Gross,” you scoffed, dismissing her further.

“Oh, you have no idea,” Abby huffed, tossing her head back against the couch. A beat of silence passed before she turned to you again.

“What’s your deal, anyway? You a prude? Because I know you aren’t straight.”

“What if I’m just not interested?” you shot back.

Her lips twitched, and she tilted her head as she studied you. “You aren’t?” Her voice was laced with challenge, and something in that tone made your heart thud. You hesitated—silence stretching uncomfortably as your uniform suddenly felt too tight.

Abby hummed and turned her head to the front. “Sure you aren’t,” she murmured, half-expecting you to correct her, half-expecting you to confirm her suspicion. When nothing came, she pressed on.

“So,” she said, her tone infuriatingly calm, “what’s your major? Or are you just here to shake your little pom-poms?”

You furrowed your brows at her comment before realizing you were still in uniform. A laugh burst out as you replied with your major. “And I won’t be shaking anything, thank you.” You added, taking another slow drag.

That got her attention. She tilted her head back for a once-over, arching an eyebrow. Testing your major like it was a word on her tongue, she paused and studied your face. “Nerdy,” she said with a shrug.

“Oh, I’m sorry—would you rather me throw a ball around all day?” you huffed, rolling your eyes.

“Aww, you jealous, sweetheart?” Abby smirked, shifting closer on the couch until she almost faced you head-on, her body angling provocatively.

You shook your head in amusement. “Aww Fuck no, I’m not,” you mocked in a sing-song tone. “Cute thought, though.”

It was Abby’s turn to roll her eyes, yet her smirk never faltered. “You’re a real smartass, you know that?” She leaned back, draping an arm casually over the back of the couch, fingertips grazing your shoulder.

“And you can’t take a hint,” you shot back, eyeing her outfit as you took another drag.

“And you’re full of yourself,” she retorted, eyes flicking to your hand as you passed her the joint. Their brief contact sent an involuntary shiver up your spine.

“Got your attention, though—so that says more about you than me,” you shrugged back.

Abby hummed in acknowledgment, taking a hit as smoke curled from her mouth. Her knee pressed against your thigh as she handed the joint back.

“But if you’re gonna check me out, at least be subtle about it,” she teased, her voice gravelly from the smoke.

“You wanted me to see you so bad, so I’m doing that. You complaining now?” you scoffed.

Abby exhaled sharply, a quiet laugh escaping her. “Holy hell, you’re annoying,” she said, though her gaze lingered on your face and lips.

“Yeah?” You returned, a slow smile spreading. “Good. Maybe you’ll run a play and leave.”

She glanced over at you, then back again. “You wish.” Abby flashed another grin.

The eye-fucking, the lingering tension, the still-aching wound from a previous heartbreak—it all painted her as a bad decision. You knew it, could feel it in the way your chest tightened, so you broke eye contact, pulling back just slightly.

“Why am I entertaining you right now?”

She followed your movement, not letting you retreat fully.“Because you like me,” she quipped, her hand still under your shirt, tracing lazy circles against your skin. “Because I’m entertaining, and I’m the best thing happening at this lame-ass party right now.”

You huffed a laugh. “Like you?” You arched a brow. “You think me letting you be handsy is a sign I’m falling for you?”

Abby chuckled, shrugging as if the thought had only just crossed her mind.

“Maybe, maybe not,” she mused, her fingers creeping higher, spreading over the bare skin of your hip. “But you’re still here, letting me touch on you… so something’s happening.”

You glanced down at her hand, then back up at her face, leaning against the couch.

“Mmn, I guess.”

A slow smirk tugged at her lips, but you rolled your eyes before it could fully settle.

“But I’d be an idiot to let it go further,” you said, it was something close to warning. “I know exactly how you get down.”

Abby’s grin only widened at that. No denial, no weak attempt to prove you wrong. Just that same wicked amusement as her fingers kept tracing idle patterns over your skin.

“Well, you’ve got me all figured out then, don’t you?” she teased, pressing her knee more firmly against your thigh.

“But I bet…” she started, voice dropping an octave, “if I really wanted a taste, you’d still let me have one.”

narrowing your eyes at her. You scoffed, looking away. “Oh please, I’m not that desperate, Anderson.”

She smirked, catching the way your eyes darted from hers, how the color bloomed across your cheeks despite your words.

“Also Betting you’re real easy under all this, huh?”

Your expression dropped instantly. “Excuse me?” Abby barely had time to react before you shoved her hand away.“God, you’re such an asshole.”

Pushing up from the couch, you adjusted your outfit and grabbed your cup, not sparing her another glance as you walked off. Pushing through bodies, The heat that burning under your skin wasn’t temptation anymore—it was irritation.

Abby watched you go, She hadn’t expected you to up and leave like that. A beat passed, her fingers flexing in her lap before she exhaled, dropping the joint into the ashtray.

Then, with a quiet sigh, she got up. Willing her mouth to say the correct words this go around.

It didn’t take long to find you. The kitchen was quieter than the rest of the house, save for the low hum of conversation from people passing through. You stood by the counter, fingers wrapped around your drink, but you hadn’t taken a sip.

Abby hesitated for the first time that night, her usual bravado dimming at the edges. Still, she approached, the smirk from before vanished, replaced with something else—something that almost looked like regret.

“Hey,” she said softly, her tone much gentle. “You alright? I didn’t mean to—”

“Save it, Anderson.” You huffed, waving a dismissive hand, trying to shake off the heat still simmering from her last comment.

Abby exhaled, rubbing a hand over her jaw. “Look, I was just messing around. You know that, right?”

You scoffed, finally looking at her. “Oh, so it’s just a joke when you’re the one running your mouth?”

Her brows raised slightly, sensing the shift. “Come on, don’t be like that.”

“You and your teammates? All the same. It’s fucking embarrassing.” You spat the words like they tasted bad in your mouth.

Abby’s expression darkened. “And what the hell does that mean?”

“It means what I said.” Your low, red-rimmed eyes met hers, colder than before. “You. Williams. Stevens. Martinez. And every other meathead who likes to parade around campus like they own it. Simple-minded—”

“Hold up.” She stepped into the small space. “You don’t know me, so don’t you dare lump me in with the rest of them.”

She scoffed, her next words hitting hard. “And you call me simple-minded? Look at you—walking around with your prissy attitude, acting like you’re better than everyone just because Martinez screwed you over.”

Your fingers tightened around your drink but Abby didn’t stop there. “It’s not my fault you dated the biggest red flag on campus. Maybe you like getting played.”

The second it left her mouth, regret twisted in her gut. Your eyes widened—briefly, but enough for her to see the impact. The sharp inhale, the tension in your jaw, the way your grip tightened. Abby braced herself, half-expecting a slap, but instead, you exhaled sharply, nostrils flaring, a cruel dig following.

“Wow. Funny coming from the girl who just figured out she likes pussy last year and acts like she invented the game.”

So lost in the heat of the argument, neither of you noticed the necks turning, the whispers starting to spread.

“Yeah. Congrats. You finally stopped fumbling your way through your sexuality just to become a fuckboy in a passed-around jersey, cycling through girls because you’re too scared to actually feel something.”

Abby’s eyes narrowed, her jaw clenching. “You think that’s funny?” she shot back, her voice laced with bitterness. “You’re one to talk. You’re over here holding a grudge like it’s a fucking trophy. Maybe I’ve figured things out better than you, huh? At least I didn’t let one bad breakup ruin my life.”

She opened her mouth to backtrack, to fix what she just broke, but the look in your eyes told her it was already too late.

The murmur of your voice was beginning to cut through the music, sharp and unmistakable. Dina peeled herself away from the lanky body pressed against hers, tucked away in an empty bedroom upstairs.

She knew if you found out she was tangled up with Ellie—again—you’d launch into the “you deserve better” speech. She could already see the way you’d cross your arms, the unimpressed face. Tonight she just wanted to be selfish. Indulge. Regret it later.

Dina shoved through the thick crowd, the heat from all the bodies suffocating.

“What the hell?”

She caught sight of you just as the crowd parted, her jet-black ponytail whipping over her shoulder. The kitchen lights burned her eyes, but she couldn’t take them off you.

You. Abby. Way too close.

Dina’s big brown eyes flickered between the two of you, watching as your shoulders rose and fell like you were trying to suppress a scream. Abby looked just as wound up, her hands flexing at her sides, lips parted as if she was about to say something she shouldn’t.

“Oh, shit— isn’t that—”

“Damn, they’re really about to throw down in the kitchen?”

“Nah, she brought up Martinez—this is getting personal.”

“She just called her a passed-around jersey? That’s crazy.”

The whispers started almost immediately, the bystanders soaking up the drama like it was the halftime show of a championship game.

You barely spared them a glance, trying to ignore it. Your gaze landed instead on Dina—and Ellie, standing just a step behind her, taking in the scene with narrowed green eyes.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Ellie muttered under her breath before making a beeline for her teammate.

“Hey—what the hell happened?” Dina asked, searching your face for answers.

Ellie, on the other hand, let out a sharp scoff before flipping off the nearest group of nosy onlookers. “Mind your business,” she muttered, her voice dripping with annoyance.

You didn’t answer Dina right away. Instead, with a final dramatic act, you pushed past the small crowd, your steps sharp, heat radiating off you in waves.

“I’m fine.”

You muttered it more to yourself than to her, pulling out a mirror from your bag. The reflection wasn’t great. Mascara smudged beneath your eyes, giving you the look of a pissed-off raccoon.

And even now As she retold the story, the stress ball bounced back as the smaller hand caught it. With a raised eyebrow, her dormmate with a head full of curls, Nora, spoke up. “Wait, go back—you said what?”

“I know. Look, I was high, and I just…”

“Was being a dick.” Nora finished.

“Yeah.”

“Abs, you are genuinely an idiot.”

“Woah. Last time I come to you for advice,” Abby shot back, half-laughing, half-groaning, tossing the stress ball to the other side of the room.

Her broad shoulders slumped as she threw herself onto the shared couch. Her golden braid flicked over the cushion as she stared up at the ceiling.

What a mess.

[lavenderprose]

I'm thoroughly convinced that in any sort of modern-day AU, Rook and Emmrich are the couple whose first date basically just never ends. There's a meet-cute. They meet in the grocery store when they both reach for the same jar of pickled eggs. Or in an elevator of a fancy hotel where Emmrich is attending a conference and Rook is on a galpal's bachelorette vacay. Or at a blood drive where Emmrich is grading papers and Rook is reading the trashiest novel she could get her hands on.

They hit it off. Emmrich, of course, finds Rook charming and Emmrich is, of course, the king of unassuming rizz. They exchange numbers. They go on a date that weekend to some stuffy gastropub that Emmrich apologizes for recommending no less than six times mostly because Rook looks at the prices on the menu with the kind of dismay that Emmrich remembers from being young and poor and hungry.

He pays for their meal, of course, and utterly insists that she order dessert.

They go for a walk. They Uber home, again on Emmrich's dime. Emmrich walks Rook up to her doorstep and intends to leave her with a quick peck, maybe even on the cheek, and a promise to call --but Rook slinks her arms around his neck and presses her body to his and invites him up.

"Terribly sorry," Emmrich half-yells into the Uber driver's passenger side window "It seems we're both staying here! I have--a tip--" He shoves a twenty dollar bill through the cracked window. It flutters anticlimactically onto the passenger seat. "Here you go!"

Rook's apartment is small, cluttered but clean, and they do not reach the bedroom. Emmrich fucks her on the sofa, which is second-hand and which they sink into alarmingly far, and they enjoy the afterglow together by scrolling through late-night offerings on a delivery app because Rook mentions that the gastropub's serving sizes were abysmal. They order a pizza, and Rook eats wearing nothing but her lacy purple thong and Emmrich's discarded white button-up. Emmrich watches her and feels his heart nervously flutter.

He stays the night.

In the morning, he plans to make her coffee and offer some eggs and then take his leave, because it seems polite and he has no reason to think she wouldn't want her Sunday to herself. Instead, Rook drinks the coffee, pops out of her chair and mentions that there is an Antivan bakery just down the street if he wants to walk with her.

He does, of course.

"I'm applying to graduate programs right now," Rook tells him, chewing on a biscotti, cute fingers wrapped around a second coffee. They sit in the window of the bakery on a pair of charmingly previous-century wrought iron bistro chairs. "There's one program...I want it so badly, but they only accept six candidates every three years. I've been out of school for a few years and I was going through some stuff in undergrad, so my GPA wasn't the greatest. I'l doubt I'll get in."

"Which program?" Emmrich inquires. Each of their pairs of legs are folded under the table, his right-over-left and hers left-over-right. They periodically tap their feet together and each time it happens, he smiles.

"It's a fellowship to study at the Grand Necropolis," Rook tells him. "Specifically, their program on funerary practices from the turn of the first millenium, which is--what?"

"Oh," Emmrich says, a little flustered. "Nothing, it's just--well, I'm tenured at the Necropolis. I know exactly the person who will be reading your application. It's not my program, of course, but I could...would you like me to look over your application? I know what she'll be looking for."

This is how Emmrich ends up sitting at Rook's dining room table well into the afternoon, reading through her extensive application to the Necropolis' fellowship program. She's undersold herself extensively--and he tries to aim her in a better direction while also not getting any of his fingerprints on the application. Myrna would easily be able to tell if she was reading an application written by someone who she'd eaten brunch with once a month for the past eight years.

"I should probably be going," Emmrich says, stretching out his back after several hours. "I have a...well, my bird gets nervous if I'm gone for long periods of time."

"You have a bird?" Rook asks, with delight, and this is how he ends up being driven back to his place by an overly-excited Rook, who apparently had a childhood dream of owning a parrot.

Manfred seems equally fascinated by her, as he hops onto her shoulder and makes a serious of hisses.

"His previous home evidently had cats," Emmrich tells her, gently petting the top of Manfred's head, and Manfred displays his other skill--screeching 'Emmrich!' over and over.

This is when things start to blur. Emmrich makes dinner, they eat, watch an episode of whatever is on the TV, and then have sex again--in the bed this time, Rook on top, hair down, and she looks...well, he doesn't last long.

In the morning, she goes to work. Texts him in the middle of the day to ask if he likes Tevinter food. He says yes, and she asks if he's free that evening. Also yes.

It's about a week later that Emmrich realizes they haven't spent much more than a workday apart since Saturday. It being Saturday again, Emmrich mentions it.

"Oh," says Rook, looking suddenly unsure. "I'm sorry, did you--if you need me to go, I can--"

"No!" Emmrich all but yells. "I just meant--am I monopolizing your time? Do you have...things I'm, er, keeping you from?"

Rook settles back against the sofa, which she's been lounging on beautifully on this rainy Saturday morning in Emmrich's pajama top and underneath Emmrich's mother's crochet blanket.

"Most of my friends are also, y'know, busy professionals," Rook sighs, head leaning on her hand, hair draping. "It's hard to make time. And I don't have family, really. I can leave if you want, really, I would understand. I just got a little carried away because--well, it's nice. To have someone to come home to." She frowns. "I don't know, is that weird to say?"

"No," Emmrich says, tears watering in alarming fashion. "No, darling, it makes perfect sense."

Everyone is only vaguely concerned when Rook moves into Emmrich's place a month later.

"It's not like we're getting married," Rook scoffs repeatedly.

Except that they do, before the end of the year. By that point, however, it seems that everyone has made peace with the situation--mostly because they finish each other's sentences, and sigh like lovelorn puppy dogs when they're apart, and mostly because nobody can really imagine them any other way nowadays.