#'my friends had other friends who they liked just as much or way more than me'

[luv-lock]

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤA GENTLEMANㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Robin Damian Wayne x Fem Reader

☆⁠ HEADCANON : When he have a puppy crush (obsession).

☆⁠ NOTES : Teenagers in love. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

Damian had always been certain of one thing: he was superior to everyone around him. But when it came to you, something shifted in him. He didn’t understand it at first—it was something unfamiliar, something that made his heart race in ways that made him deeply uncomfortable. He would never admit it, of course, but there was no denying the way his eyes lingered on you when you weren’t looking.

From the moment he noticed you in class, you were a source of obsession. Not just because you were incredibly intelligent—far more than most people gave you credit for—but because you were different. You weren’t intimidated by him like everyone else. You didn’t flinch when he looked at you with his piercing eyes, and worst of all, you were kind to him. You smiled at him, genuinely, and asked him how his day was when no one else did.

At first, Damian didn't know how to process it. He hated how much he cared about what you thought. He hated how his chest tightened whenever he saw you laughing with friends or when your eyes briefly met his from across the room. He couldn't help but become... protective. Territorial, even.

His obsession grew, but it wasn’t obvious to you. To you, he was just the enigmatic, brooding boy who sat at the back of the class and barely spoke. To everyone else, he was the unsmiling prodigy who made the rest of Gotham's elite children seem inferior. But to him, you were different. You weren't afraid to speak to him, to challenge him, even when you didn't know his full story.

He’d sneak glances at you when you weren’t paying attention, his gaze lingering for just a second too long. When you walked into a room, his eyes would immediately track your every movement. He didn’t mean for it to happen, but every time you laughed—whether it was at something funny or just something absurd—his heart would pound. Every soft word you spoke, every time you brushed your hair behind your ear, or when you studied so intently in class, it drove him wild. He felt... protective. Possessive, even. But mostly, he felt a desperate need to be the one you relied on, the one you turned to.

He never had a normal crush before. His emotions were all twisted up, almost like he was terrified of it, yet drawn to it. His pride kept him from ever admitting how much he cared, but his actions always betrayed him. If anyone made the mistake of speaking to you for too long, or worse, making you laugh too much, they’d feel the weight of his glare. He didn’t trust anyone around you, didn’t trust that they wouldn’t hurt you, use you, break you like so many others had tried with him.

If you ever had a problem, Damian would be the first to solve it. He didn’t need to be asked. He noticed the little things about you—the way you tapped your pencil when you were nervous, the way you’d tug at your sleeves when you were stressed. He memorized them all, cataloging each detail like an obsessed detective, all while maintaining that cold, stoic expression. But if you ever needed help, even just to ask for notes from a missed class, his voice would become so soft, so eager to please, that it would catch you off guard.

But he was never obvious. If you ever mentioned something in passing, a book you liked or a subject you were interested in, Damian would get it for you. It wasn’t that he thought you needed him—it was that he needed you to need him. He wanted to be the one you thought of when you needed something, even if he didn’t let you know just how far he would go for you.

He’d never say it out loud, but when you laughed at one of his rare jokes or smiled when he helped you with something, it felt like the whole world was aligned. The idea of you wanting him, of you seeing him as something more than just the brooding, serious boy who sat in the back of class, became his driving force. He’d stalk your social media in the dead of night, not to look for anything inappropriate, but just to see you—see your face, your thoughts, the things you liked.

Sometimes he’d catch himself imagining what it would be like to kiss you, to be the one who could make you smile when no one else could. He’d catch himself thinking about how he would protect you—how, in his mind, no one else was worthy of you. You were his. He’d never let anyone else take you from him.

If you ever caught him staring at you—caught him in one of his moments of weakness—he’d look away, almost defensively, as though nothing had ever happened. But deep down, Damian couldn’t hide the feeling that grew every time you were around. A feeling that, for the first time, made him question what it meant to be truly vulnerable.

You were his weakness. But that was something he could never let anyone see.

As time passed, Damian’s obsession with you only deepened, but so did his longing for your attention. His pride and sense of superiority might’ve prevented him from being straightforward, but that didn’t stop him from showing his affection in subtle ways. Every once in a while, when you weren’t looking, he’d steal a quick glance at you, his eyes softening, as if savoring the moments when you were close.

It was the small things that made his heart race—like when you’d accidentally brush his hand as you passed him a pencil or when you’d ask him for help on a particularly difficult assignment. The way your voice sounded when you said his name, the way your eyes sparkled when you were excited about something—Damian didn’t even realize how much it was affecting him until it was too late.

One day, during lunch, you walked up to him at his usual spot by the wall, the one he always sat at, trying to be as unnoticed as possible. “Hey, Damian,” you said, a little shy, “can I borrow your notes from last week’s class?”

Damian looked up at you, and for a moment, his breath caught in his throat. The way your hair fell over your shoulder, the way your eyes sparkled under the soft glow of the cafeteria lights—it was almost too much for him to handle. He had to force himself not to let his emotions show.

Without a word, he handed you his notebook, his fingers brushing against yours for just a second. He didn’t pull away, though—he lingered, just a little longer than necessary. His eyes met yours, and for the first time in ages, a flicker of warmth passed across his usual cold, calculating gaze. He couldn’t help the small, almost imperceptible smile that tugged at the corner of his lips.

“You… You’re welcome,” he muttered, trying to sound aloof. But there was an underlying softness in his tone, something you hadn’t heard before. It was the way he said it—like he was pleased to help you, like you mattered to him more than anyone else in that moment.

You smiled at him, making his heart stutter in his chest. It wasn’t a big smile, just a small, genuine curve of your lips, but to Damian, it was everything. It felt like the world had shifted into place.

“Thanks, Damian. You’re a lifesaver,” you said, eyes lighting up with appreciation.

His chest tightened. “It’s nothing,” he replied quickly, not wanting to sound too eager, but his voice faltered just a bit.

You turned to leave, and as you walked away, you glanced back once, catching his eyes before he quickly looked away, face flushed. The moment he was sure you couldn’t see, he exhaled, the softest, happiest sigh escaping his lips. You’d never know it, but he had a soft spot for you—a part of him that didn’t want to be so cold and distant. A part of him that wanted to just be… normal for once.

From then on, he found himself watching you more than he should. Sometimes, he’d catch you looking at him, and he’d quickly avert his eyes, pretending like he hadn’t been staring. His heart would beat faster in his chest, and it almost made him angry that you could have this effect on him. But then, just as quickly, he’d find himself grinning, not able to help it. It was you—you made him feel things he hadn’t felt before.

It became a little routine: he’d see you in the halls, and sometimes, if you needed help with something, he’d find a way to be there. He’d stand a little too close to you when you talked, but it was never in a way that made you uncomfortable—it was more like he just wanted to be near you. He never told you why, of course.

One afternoon, while you were studying in the library, he walked in, glancing around until he spotted you, sitting by the window, scribbling away in your notebook. His heart skipped a beat when he saw you like that—so focused, so determined. You looked so… cute.

He hesitated for a second before walking up to you, his usual confident stride faltering just slightly. “Do you need any help?” he asked, trying to sound casual, though the nervous energy was palpable in his voice.

You looked up, surprised to see him standing there. “Oh, Damian! Um… yeah, I could use some help with this math problem,” you said, motioning to the page in front of you.

Damian sat down next to you, closer than necessary. His heart pounded as he explained the problem to you, his hand occasionally brushing yours as he pointed to different equations. He tried not to notice how his skin tingled each time it happened, or how every time you smiled and thanked him, it felt like the entire world brightened. He wasn’t used to feeling this way, this vulnerable, but somehow, he didn’t mind it when it was you.

“Got it?” he asked, his voice a little softer than usual as he watched you carefully.

You nodded, a soft smile spreading across your face. “Yeah, I think I do. You make it sound so easy.”

Damian’s eyes softened, and for the briefest of moments, he allowed himself to smile back at you—genuinely, without any pretenses. It was a rare moment for him, but when it came to you, he didn’t feel the need to hide everything.

“Good. I’m glad,” he said, his voice almost tender.

You packed up your things, still smiling. As you stood, you gave him one last look, your eyes meeting his, and for a second, Damian felt like the entire world had come to a stop. There was something in your gaze—something that made him feel like maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to hide how he felt.

“Thanks again, Damian,” you said as you turned to leave, a soft wave following behind you.

And as you walked away, Damian stood there, watching you, a small, secret smile tugging at his lips. Maybe one day he’d tell you how he felt, but for now, he was content with these little moments. He was content with the idea that, for once in his life, someone saw him for who he truly was—not the perfect heir, not the deadly assassin, but the boy who was hopelessly in love with you.

For weeks, Damian wrestled with the idea of asking you out. It wasn’t like he was afraid of rejection—he was Damian Wayne. Fear was beneath him. No, this was different. This was you. The thought of putting his feelings into words, of making himself vulnerable to you, made his stomach twist in ways he didn’t like to acknowledge.

But at the same time… the thought of anyone else asking you out, of anyone else standing beside you, laughing with you, touching you—it was unbearable. The mere idea of it set his blood on fire. He had to make a move. You were his, even if you didn’t know it yet.

So, like everything else in his life, Damian devised a plan. It had to be perfect. He would not fail.

The first thing he did was eliminate all competition. Subtly, of course. Any boy who looked at you for too long? Suddenly, they found themselves tripping over conveniently placed obstacles. Anyone who flirted with you? They’d mysteriously lose their confidence after a single, bone-chilling glare from Damian. He made sure that by the time he approached you, no one else would dare think they had a chance.

Next, he had to find the right moment. Timing was everything. He refused to make a fool of himself by asking you out in a setting that wasn’t optimal. He studied your habits—when you were most relaxed, most receptive. He knew you liked to sit by the windows in the library during study hall. You liked the way the sunlight hit the pages of your books. That would be the perfect place.

The day of, he was completely composed—or at least, that’s what he told himself. He approached your table with his usual confident stride, pulling out the chair across from you without asking, as he often did.

You glanced up, surprised but not unwelcome to his presence. “Oh, hey, Damian.” You smiled at him, and his heart stuttered.

“Hello,” he replied, voice smooth, but slightly more clipped than usual. He was trying to keep his emotions in check. “I require your time this Saturday.”

You blinked. “Uh, what?”

Damian inhaled slowly. He could feel heat rising to his ears. His grip tightened on the book he brought, knuckles white. This was not how it was supposed to go. He had rehearsed this in his head a hundred times, but now, sitting in front of you, he felt like an idiot.

He quickly corrected himself. “What I mean is… I have taken the liberty of arranging a date for us this Saturday. I will pick you up at noon. Wear something suitable for the occasion.”

There. Perfect. No room for rejection. No awkward stammering. Tt. Why was he nervous in the first place?

You blinked again, then tilted your head, processing his words. “A date?”

“Yes,” Damian confirmed, keeping his tone even, as if this was the most logical thing in the world. Because to him, it was.

Your lips parted slightly in surprise, but then—then you smiled. And not just any smile. It was soft, warm, genuine. And it was for him.

“You’re asking me out on a date?” you clarified, amusement lacing your tone.

He bristled slightly at your wording. “Obviously.”

You chuckled, and for a moment, he thought his heart might actually explode. He had never wanted anything more than to be the reason you smiled like that every day.

“Well,” you said, propping your chin on your hand, watching him with something unreadable in your eyes, “you sure don’t waste time with subtlety, huh?”

“Subtlety is for those who lack certainty,” Damian replied smoothly, lifting his chin. “And I am certain.”

Your cheeks warmed, and that small reaction sent a rush of satisfaction through him. “Alright, Damian,” you finally said, “I’d love to go on a date with you.”

For the first time in his life, Damian stopped thinking. He just… felt. A warmth spread through his chest, foreign yet addicting. He nodded once, as if sealing an unspoken pact.

“Good,” he said, voice steady, though his pulse was anything but. “I will text you the details.”

Then, without another word, he stood up and left. Just like that. Because if he stayed a second longer, he knew he would either start grinning like a fool or do something completely irrational, like kiss you right there in the middle of the library.

As soon as he rounded the corner, out of your sight, Damian exhaled, pressing a hand over his chest. His heart was hammering. Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.

But he didn’t care. Because you said yes.

And he will make sure it was a date you’d never forget.

The day of the date arrived. Damian had meticulously planned every detail, not leaving anything to chance. No, this wouldn’t be a “let’s grab coffee and see where things go” type of outing. This was his date with you.

He arrived at your house right on time. He didn’t need to check his watch—his internal sense of timing was precise, down to the minute. He knocked firmly on your door, his hand steady, even though he had spent the last few hours agonizing over the finer points of the evening in his mind. When you opened the door, his breath caught for a fraction of a second.

You stood there in a simple, yet elegant dress that was both understated and beautiful—just like you. The soft fabric clung to your figure just enough to highlight your natural grace, and the way your hair framed your face made his pulse quicken.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice steady, though his gaze softened as he took in your appearance.

You smiled, your eyes bright, and for a moment, he thought his heart might beat out of his chest. "I’m ready."

As you stepped out of the door and joined him, Damian offered his arm with a small, confident smile that was so different from his usual intense expression. He had plans for this evening, and he was determined to follow them through.

The car ride was smooth, quiet, but not uncomfortable. He drove with precision, each movement calculated and controlled, but there was something different in the air tonight. Something lighter. Every time he glanced over at you, you caught his eye, and he had to resist the urge to smile. It felt almost surreal—this quiet, sweet moment between the two of you. You’d spent time together before, but never like this.

You asked him where you were going, but he only gave you a cryptic smile. “You’ll see,” was all he said. You didn’t push him, curious to see where he had decided to take you.

Eventually, he pulled up to a small, secluded restaurant, one of Gotham’s more refined and hidden gems. It was quaint but elegant, with outdoor seating overlooking a picturesque garden. The soft light of lanterns danced around the patio, giving the place a warm, intimate atmosphere.

He opened the door for you as you stepped out, and offered his hand to you. You took it without hesitation, feeling the warmth of his touch seep through your skin. There was a kind of unspoken respect in the way he treated you. It wasn’t rushed or impatient—just an easy calmness that made you feel like you were the only one in the world to him.

Damian led you to your table, which was set for two, tucked away in a private corner, draped with ivy and soft fairy lights. It was the kind of place where the world around you seemed to fade away. As you sat down, he carefully pulled out your chair, ensuring you were comfortable, before taking his own seat across from you.

There was something so different about Damian tonight—something that made you realize, in that moment, just how special this date really was. He wasn’t like the other boys your age, with their offhand jokes or their self-absorbed chatter. No, Damian Wayne was something entirely different. He had this quiet intensity, but underneath that, a care that he wasn’t always quick to show.

The waiter came and Damian ordered for both of you with an air of confidence, speaking in fluent French, making you chuckle softly at how effortlessly he handled everything. But what made you laugh more was the glint of satisfaction in his eyes when he said, “The wine selection here is impeccable. I trust you’ll enjoy it.” It was like he was proud to share his tastes with you.

As you ate, the conversation flowed naturally. Damian asked about your interests, your thoughts on various books you had been reading, and he listened so intently, as though every word you spoke was a treasure to him. It wasn’t just idle talk—there was genuine curiosity in his voice. And when he did speak, it was always with purpose, never just to fill the silence.

You were beginning to see another side of him. A side that was almost... gentle.

You told him about your love for horses and how you dreamed of riding across the open fields someday. Damian’s eyes softened, a quiet smile tugging at his lips. “I can take you to the stables at Wayne Manor sometime,” he said with an easy confidence. “There’s a ranch not far from the estate. You’d like it.”

You blinked, a little surprised. “You have horses?”

“Yes. I do,” he replied, his smile more sincere now, like the idea of sharing something personal with you had softened him further. “Perhaps you could teach me a thing or two. I’ve never been particularly good at it.”

That was the thing about Damian. He wasn’t afraid to show his flaws when it came to you. In fact, he seemed to crave your approval, though he’d never openly admit it. But it wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t needy. It was simply him, wanting you to know who he really was.

As the evening wore on, the conversation became more relaxed. You found yourself laughing more freely, your initial nerves completely gone, replaced by an easy comfort that felt like you had known him forever. Damian was still Damian—intense, sharp, but there was a tenderness to him tonight that made him seem... normal. Human. Not just the son of Bruce Wayne, not just the little assassin.

Finally, after dessert, the night began to wind down. Damian stood and offered his hand once more. You placed your hand in his, and together, you walked out into the garden. The soft hum of the night air and the occasional chirp of a cricket filled the silence between you.

As you approached his car, Damian paused. He turned to face you, and for the first time that evening, his expression was serious—not cold, but thoughtful, as if he were gathering his thoughts for something important.

“You’re...” He cleared his throat, looking down at his shoes for just a brief moment before meeting your eyes again. “I have enjoyed tonight... more than I anticipated.”

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile pulling at your lips. “More than you anticipated? So you did expect it to be bad?”

He stiffened for a second, realizing the unintended implication. “No. That is not what I meant.” He hesitated, looking at you for a long, quiet moment. Then, in a voice quieter than before, almost soft, he added, “You’re... different. In a way I didn’t expect.”

You blinked, feeling the weight of his words settle in the air. “Damian…” you started, but before you could finish, he reached out and gently took your hand in his.

His thumb brushed over the back of your hand in a way that felt intimate, but not in a rushed or inappropriate way—more like he was savoring the moment.

“I would like to do this again,” he said, his voice earnest, but not without the usual confidence. “Whenever you’re ready.”

And with that, he took your hand and, with a deep breath, lowered his head and kissed the back of it. The touch of his lips was soft, respectful—gentle, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to blur into the background.

When he pulled back, his gaze remained locked with yours, almost searching, as if to make sure you understood just how much that small gesture meant to him.

“I’ll walk you to the door,” he said quietly, straightening up and offering his arm again, as if nothing had changed—except, of course, that now you both knew something had. Something deeper than either of you had expected when you started this evening.

You smiled, heart fluttering in your chest as you took his arm. “I’d like that.”

From the moment you officially became Damian’s girlfriend, your life changed—not in the dramatic way people might expect when dating the son of Bruce Wayne, but in the way that everything suddenly felt different. Like the world had shifted slightly, aligning perfectly in a way it hadn’t before.

Damian wasn’t like other boys your age. He didn’t do the whole awkward teenage romance thing. He wasn’t overly flirty, nor did he stumble through his words or second-guess himself. If he wanted to hold your hand, he did. If he wanted to tell you he liked the way you looked in a certain outfit, he said it, blunt and without hesitation.

His affection wasn’t loud or showy, but it was constant—always there, woven into everything he did.

Damian is, above all else, a gentleman. He treats you with the kind of respect that most guys your age wouldn’t even think about. Holding doors open for you? Always. Walking on the side of the street closest to traffic to “protect” you? A given.

If you ever carried anything heavier than a book, it was suddenly his burden. He didn’t even ask—he just took it from you with a simple, “Tt. You shouldn’t be straining yourself.”

He makes sure you never have to worry about anything. If you so much as mention feeling cold? His jacket is around your shoulders before you can finish your sentence. If you’re tired? He’s finding the closest place for you to sit, even if it means him physically leading you there by the small of your back.

But most of all, he listens. He pays attention in a way no one else does. If you casually mention something you like—your favorite flowers, a book you’ve been dying to read, a little café you want to try—Damian remembers. And soon enough, you’ll find a bouquet of those flowers waiting in your locker, that book sitting on your desk, or him showing up outside your house on a Saturday morning, saying, “Get in. We’re going to that café you won’t stop talking about.”

Because to Damian, caring means action.

Damian isn’t very verbal with his affection at first. He won’t say sweet, flowery words or write you poetry (even though you swear he has the soul of an old poet somewhere deep inside him). Instead, he shows his love through actions.

He’s always near you. Always. If you’re walking through the halls at school, his hand is resting against your lower back, gently guiding you. If you’re studying together, his knee is touching yours beneath the table. If you’re out somewhere, he positions himself slightly in front of you, instinctively shielding you from the crowd.

And while he doesn’t do PDA in public (besides holding your hand or the occasional brush of his fingers along your arm), when you’re alone? That’s when he lets his guard down.

Soft touches. He’s always touching you in some way—running his fingers over the back of your hand, tucking a stray hair behind your ear, resting a hand on your knee when you sit next to him.

Forehead touches. Whenever he’s feeling particularly soft (which he would never admit out loud), he leans in, pressing his forehead against yours. It’s a silent way of saying I’m here. You’re mine. We belong to each other.

Hand kisses. He does this a lot. If you ever feel sad? He takes your hand, kisses your knuckles, and simply says, “You have me.” And that’s enough.

Damian is not someone who tolerates threats to what’s his.

He’s not loud about it, not the type to start fights over jealousy, but his presence alone is enough to keep people in check. If another guy even thinks about flirting with you, Damian is already there, standing a little too close, his green eyes sharp and possessive as he stares the poor guy down.

His hand will tighten on your waist, and his voice will drop an octave as he says something like, “I assume you have nothing important to say. If so, leave.”

And just like that, the threat is gone.

If you ever tease him about being jealous, he just crosses his arms and scoffs, Tt. “I am simply ensuring that no one wastes your time with their nonsense.”

But the way his hand subtly tightens around yours says otherwise.

At first, Damian struggles with vulnerability. He’s used to being the strong one, the one who handles everything without needing help. But with you? You see past that.

There are nights when he sneaks into your room through your window, not as Robin, but just as Damian. Those are the moments when he talks to you about things he’d never say to anyone else.

About his mother. About his father. About the weight of his family name and how, sometimes, he feels like he has to be perfect to live up to it.

And you listen. You always listen. You don’t try to fix him, don’t tell him that he’s wrong for feeling this way. You just hold his hand, stroke his hair, and whisper, “You’re already enough, Damian.”

And those words stay with him longer than he’ll ever admit.

Bruce: At first? He’s skeptical. Protective. But when he sees how much Damian genuinely cares for you—how you make him softer, more grounded—Bruce actually starts to approve.

“You keep him... balanced,” Bruce admits to you one evening. “That’s not an easy thing to do.”

(Which, coming from Bruce Wayne, is probably the highest compliment you’ll ever receive.)

Dick: “Oh my god. Damian has a girlfriend.” He’s so smug about it. Constantly teasing Damian, constantly referring to you as his soft spot.

He also makes sure you know that if Damian ever hurts you (which he won’t), you can definitely call Dick to handle it.

Alfred: Alfred adores you. Treats you like family from the moment he realizes you make Damian happy. Always makes extra tea and snacks whenever you visit Wayne Manor.

“You keep Master Damian in check, Miss. I quite appreciate it.”

Dating Damian isn’t easy. He’s intense, overprotective, sometimes way too serious for his age. But at the same time?

He loves deeply.

Once you’re his, you’re his forever. There’s no in-between, no uncertainty. Damian loves you with the same ferocity that he does everything else in his life.

And one day? When he’s older, stronger, even more sure of himself—he won’t hesitate to tell you:

“You are mine. And I am yours. Always.”

And that is what loving Damian is like.

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, repost or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[drchucktingle]

As an autistic person, did you struggle to make and keep friends? And have you found friends through the writing world? I ask because my mom always said i needed to find my people. I did finally find them (they are neurodiverse trans nerds, haha), but not until i was like 30. And i wonder if its true of other autistic people too. So i guess my question is: did you find your people, and when?

thank you this is good question. i have always had a LOT of CLOSE BUDS even from a very young age. i would actually say that i am unusually socially adept in my way and that it is partially BECAUSE of my autistic trot. LETS TALK ON THAT FOR A MOMENT

'BUT CHUCK YOU SAID YOU ARE ON THE SPECTRUM AND AUTISTIC BUCKAROOS CANNOT BE SOCIALLY ADEPT' some say. and sure it is UNUSUAL overall, technically speaking, but there is also an important reason we talk about this as a spectrum of buckaroos and not a monolith

when buckaroos ask me what it is like to be autistic i try to explain like this: there are certain cues and markers from the outside that serve as a sort of identification checklist but because of masking they are not always correct. instead i see it as question of WHAT IS IT LIKE INSIDE YOUR BRAIN?

internally my brain is different. its taking in way more information all the time, including the stuff that neurotypical buds block out, and that can become overwhelming. it is hard to navigate because i do not have that automatic neurotypical 'here is what is important here is what is not' function

so yes i can be easily distracted and zone out as i watch the patterns and fractals spin off. and yes i can miss certain things in social situations. in many autistic buckaroos this makes large groups overwhelming and the OUTPUT of behavior matches what we typically know as signs of autism

FOR ME however, same thing is going on inside, but i have managed to HARNESS that information. even from very young age i see that everyone is DOING THE HUMAN ACT but instead of rejecting that and shutting off i think 'well okay i am just going to do THIS because thats what they actually want'

in other words, most neurotypical buds say one thing that has a kind of spiraling social-cue-related OTHER MEETING (they do this ALL the time) and instead of rejecting that i have trained myself to be REALLY REALLY good at knowing the hidden meaning. it is EMPATHY but on a sort of LOGIC BASED level

and because i have always been pretty good at that, people like to trot around me and say 'wow this is a good friend they understand me'. now for ME that can be a little exhausting and there are things i need to do and stims and all that to release the effort, but overall it is worth it to me

OTHER THING is that i was a successful CREATOR AND ARTIST BUCKAROO from an early age which is socially seen as 'cool' especially when you are trotting around in your youth. it is not particularly FAIR but it is true that some level of fame makes buds treat you well even if you are 'weird'.

of course it can be a sort of FAKE 'treating you well' but as an autistic buckaroo it is still more of a chance than you might otherwise get. this timeline has sort of carved out a very special little sliver of social grace for the token odd artistic weirdo to have a seat at each cool kids table

ANYWAY that is the trot of my life. it is a unique trot that i dont get to talk on much but since you asked THERE YOU GO. every chance i get to say 'I LOVE BEING AUTISTIC' and talk on HOW MUCH IT HAS IMPROVED MY LIFE i try to take a moment and do that. when i was young i had few autistic heroes

and OF COURSE it can be difficult and overwhelming and we need to have space for those stories and voices, but i want young buckaroos who get this diagnosis to know there are ALL KINDS of stories and trots on the autism spectrum. MINE IS PRETTY DANG COOL and maybe yours will be too. LOVE IS REAL

[hhughes]

𐔌 　 ⁺　 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀 𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𓂃۶ৎ

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 , after some comments were made by quinn's brothers, you get a little insecure in your relationship and he has to reassure you

𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒕. luke!bsf x quinn hughes. 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕. fluff. teasing. flirting. 𝒙𝒐 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒊. I love writing quinn so much😭 this is a repost that’s slightly edited if it looks a little familiar to you. one of my favs things ive ever written to this day so thanks again to the anon who requested it! <333

you and quinn had been dating a few months now. sneaking around behind everyone's backs including luke. your best friend and quinn's youngest brother.

the four of you were sitting in the living room at the lake house, watching some movie. jack and luke were chirping quinn about some actress that he used to have a crush on. going on and on about how he had a thing for older women because he was such a mommas boy.

you laughed along at first, always finding it so endearing to watch the brothers bicker back and forth. even though you've been around to witness it for quite a few years now...it never got old. your smile quickly faded when jack started making comments about how all quinn's relationships with younger women has failed, and that he should go for someone older this time, cause it doesn't seem like the younger girls can handle him.

you know you shouldn't let these comments bother you. it wasn't that serious and it wasn't directed towards you, but it was one of your, if not the biggest insecurity you had when it came to your relationship with quinn. being four years younger than him. not being enough to keep him interested. these comments from two people who probably knew him the best, didn't do anything to reassure you.

"I'll be right back," you whisper, avoiding quinn's eyes as you make your way to the bathroom.

a few minutes later there's a soft knock on the door and quinn enters, when you answer, shutting the door behind him and coming over to where you're standing in front of the sink. he wraps his arms around you from behind, pulling you closer and kissing your shoulder softly.

"what's wrong sweetheart?" he asks you softly, brushing the hair out of your face as he holds you tight. the time he’s had to spent close to you but not allowed to touch you, having taken its toll on him.

"nothing," you mumble and he puts his hands on your hips, spinning you around to face him and pushing you against the counter.

"don't lie to me. I know you well enough to know everything's not okay and even if I didnt this pout is enough to tell me there's something wrong." quinn says, rubbing circles on your hip and tracing your lips with the thumb of his other hand.

"do you think I'm too young for you?" the words fly out before you can stop them and quinn sighs, knowing his brother's comments was the cause of this.

"age is just a number baby," quinn says teasingly, kissing your lips softly and you sigh.

"quinn I'm being serious," you retort, grabbing both of his hands and holding them in yours, the way they were caressing you becoming a little too distracting.

"so am I. I don't care if you're four years younger or four years older or if you were born the exact same day I was. It doesn't change the fact that you're perfect for me. you know how jack is, especially if he's been drinking, he can't keep his mouth shut. if there's an opportunity to chirp me about something, he’s gonna take it. if they knew that we were together, he would be more careful about making remarks like that. you know both of them adore you and would never say anything to hurt you on purpose" quinn says and you bite the inside of your cheek, knowing he was right.

“and besides, those relationships didn’t work out because they just weren’t the right girl for me baby. not because they were younger. they just weren’t you” he says softly, pressing yet another kiss to your collarbone.

"i’m not ready to tell luke yet." you say and quinn nods, expecting that response from you.

"the longer we wait, the worse it's gonna be." quinn replies and you look down, not wanting to argue about this. again.

quinn sighs softly before taking his hand out of yours and cupping your face between his palms, planting a soft kiss on your lips.

"god it's torture seeing you all day and not being able to touch you. kiss you." he says wrapping his arms around your waist and just hugging you for a few minutes. you smile a bit, thinking that this is exactly why he was nicknamed "huggy bear". your guy loves hugging.

"I'll sneak into your room tonight. if you think a young girl like me can handle you," you quip and quinn chuckles, knowing you're not gonna let that go for a while.

"I think you can handle me just fine baby" quinn smirks, slapping your ass as you walk past him, and out the door.

𝒙𝒐 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒊. thank you for reading and feel free to drop by the inbox and share any and all thoughts <333

[moody-alcoholic]

Inspired by: Service Dog Johnny by the amazing void-my-warranty. I had the idea of; what if the roles were slightly different. What if Johnny invited Simon to come and fuck his girl to get over his fears.

Anyway. I'm super nervous about this because I really don't think I can do SDJ justice but enjoy none the less. Also void if you're seeing this you're awesome thank you for gifting the world SDJ.❤️

Part 1

Summary: John MacTavish x reader x Simon Riley (kinda), WC: 3.2k

CW: +18 content MDNI, Voyeurism, exhibitionism, fingering, angst, implied past abuse.

Enjoy <3

---

It’s Friday when Johnny springs the news his friend is coming round that evening. He didn’t give you much time to prepare, or get the house clean but you do the best you can. Johnny does go to the store for you and picks up some beer for them both. 

“You don’t need to do anything special.” Johnny says opening a beer. 

“I don’t mind, it's not that big of a deal, I like cooking.” You say, he comes over and wraps his arm round your waist kissing your neck.

“What exactly does he need help with?” You asks stirring the food. 

“Well, it’s.” He sighs, taking another sip of the beer. You turn to look at him, he seems nervous. 

“Would you ever be up for a threesome?” He asks suddenly. The question shocks you a little, you reach over and pick up your glass of wine. You weren’t expecting that, not the most unusual thing Johnny has asked you about when it comes to sex though.

“I mean, would you?” You ask taking a sip to quell the nerves. 

“Depends on who the other person is.” He says, running his hand through his hair. You take another sip and put the glass down. 

“What has this got to do with Simon? Is he the person you would want to have a threesome with?” You ask frowning. He takes another swing of his beer. 

“It’s not that simple.” Johnny says, you shake your head, now you’re even more confused. 

“I want to help him have sex.” Johnny says, holding his hands out. 

“Help him have sex by having a threesome?” You ask. 

“There’s more to it than that. It’s not just a threesome.” Johnny says. “He’s, he’s been through alot. Being intimate, it’s something he’s not very used to.” 

“Okay. Is he shy?” You’re not sure what to say, you've never even met him. 

“Shy? No, not Simon, well-” Johnny’s sentence gets cut off by the ringing of the door. 

“Just trust me, okay?” He says coming over to you and resting his free hand on your shoulder. You nod, you trust him. Now all of a sudden you feel nervous, you weren’t nervous before now, Johnny leaves the room to answer the door. So he’s invited Simon round for sex? Did Simon ask for this or is this one of Johnny’s master plans?

Or well, maybe he’s not here for sex because Simon has intimacy issues apparently. He should be talking to a therapist, what does Johnny expect to do? You have to keep a straight face though, you don’t want to make him more uncomfortable then he probably already is.

You turn off the stove hearing Johnny laugh as he comes in with Simon. You turn and smile at him, you put your hand out to shake it as Johnny introduces you. He’s not what you expect and he doesn’t seem shy. 

He’s massive, bigger and taller than Johnny, he’s definitely good looking, fit, brown eyes and blonde hair. With the way he holds himself you can tell he’s a soldier, Johnny does the same when he’s nervous, he probably doesn’t even realise it. 

“Thank you for cooking, you didn’t have to.” Simon says as you all walk over to the dining table. 

“I told her the same,” Johnny says, nudging him.  

“I don’t mind, besides when was the last time you had a home cooked meal?” You say going back into the kitchen while Johnny and Simon sit down. You finish your glass of wine swallowing the nerves, it’s going to be fine. What's the worst that could happen, you all have sex? 

That wouldn’t be the worst thing. 

…

Johnny and Simon seem to get on great, after a beer they both relax. You just enjoy listening to them talk about their last deployment. You don’t mind letting your second glass of wine mull you out. After everyone is finished and your stomach’s have settled Johnny insists on moving to the living room.

You all end up on the sofa, you find yourself relaxing against Johnny as he wraps his arms around you. Maybe Johnny won’t bring it up or maybe he’s waiting for Simon to bring it up. It’s not your job surly, you look up at Johnny, blinking at him, maybe he’ll get the idea. 

He smiles and kisses your forehead. Maybe not. You sigh looking back over at the bottle of wine and unopened beer cans on the table. 

“When was the last time you got laid LT?” Johnny asks suddenly. You snap your head back up to look at him. He’s got a cheeky grin on his face looking over at Simon. You hear him clear his throat, now you feel bad. Fucking epitome of subtle as always Johnny.

“Why do you want to know?” Simon replies, you look over at him. He’s resting the beer on his knee, he doesn’t seem nervous. More irritated that Johnny asked him. 

“Just looking out for you Si. Need you to blow off some steam before we’re back to work and you’re busting my balls again.” Johnny chuckles, at least that makes Simon smile. 

“Do you have a girlfriend?” You ask him trying to steer the conversion away from the awkwardness hanging in the air. 

“No.” You swallow the lump forming in your throat. You let out a breath sitting up. Johnny frowns at you. 

“I’m going to the bathroom.” You say, Johnny smiles his hand resting on your hip for as long as can. 

When you make your way back down you hear Johnny talking. You hang back for a second and eavesdrop. 

“I wanna help you Simon.” Johnny says.

“You don’t have to.” Simon replies.

“Well of course I don’t have to. I want to.” Johnny replies, Simon sighs and you hear a can open. “I think it would be good for you, if you want. We’ll take it slow, promise.” 

You feel a lump rise in your throat at Johnny’s words, you always knew he was close with his unit but you didn’t know he was this close. You let out a breath and slowly walk back into the room. You see Johnny move his hand off Simon’s thigh and you go over to pick the empty cans off the table. 

“Need anything?” You ask, trying to keep your voice level. Johnny and Simon both shake their heads. You go into the kitchen anyway to throw out the cans. You hear Johnny coming in, his hands slip round your waist. You smile at his touch and turn to face him. 

“Do you mind doing this?” Johnny asks, his thumb comes up to brush your cheek. 

“Do you?” You ask. He smiles, nodding his head. You smile back, reaching up and kissing him. 

“We’ll take it slow. You want to stop at any time we will.” Johnny says his hand rubbing your arm. 

“I don’t think it’s me you need to be worrying about.” You say. 

“Sorry I sort of sprung this on you, I didn’t know if he would agree.” He says, you frown. 

“Did you speak to him about this before tonight?” 

“I hinted at the idea.” 

“Hinted?” You scoff. “John MacTavish, you're the least subtle person I have ever met.” You wrap your arm around his waist pulling him against you. He hums with that cheeky grin on his face. 

“What happened to the bra?” He asks. You smile. 

“One less obstacle.” He kisses your forehead. You follow him back into the living room, Simon has moved onto the recliner. This time when you sit back on the sofa you don’t lean against Johnny. 

Simon seems to be suddenly extremely interested in what’s going on on the news. Johnny’s hand lands on your thigh and rubs it. He turns and leans in to kiss you, he takes his time mapping your mouth out, you relax into the kiss forgetting Simon’s there for a second.

Johnny’s hand slips up your shirt groping your breast. You hum in his mouth and he pulls away from the kiss. He removes it, gripping the hem of your shirt. You raise an eyebrow at him, what you’re just going to fuck while he watches or maybe joins in.

Johnny tips his head to the side smiling. You swallow the nerves and hold your hands up so he can slip your top off. A satisfied noise leaves Johnny and before you can start to feel really embarrassed about anything he’s already locked his mouth round one of your nipples.

You can’t help moaning and running your hand through his hair. He had it cut while he was away, you want him to grow it out again so you have something to grip onto. Johnny’s tongue flicks your nipple and he gently nibbles it before he pulls his mouth off with an audible pop. 

“What do you think, Si?” Johnny asks, looking over at him. You look over to see Simon press his lips together. “Pretty ain’t she?”

You feel heat rush to your cheeks as he nods, it doesn’t last long though. Johnny pulls you closer to him, planting his lips on yours and pressing his tongue in your mouth while his thumb rubs circles on your nipple still wet from his mouth.

He breaks from the kiss pressing his forehead on yours. “How ‘bout you go show Simon how good you are?” He says, it’s almost a whisper. You nod and he gives you one last quick kiss before you stand up. 

Johnny's hand lingers on the small of your back for as long as he can as you step over to stand in front of Simon. He doesn’t look that nervous, you know he is though, the way his lips are pressed together avoiding your eye line. His hands gripping the chair arms. You’re not sure what to do, make sure you don’t freak him out is probably a good start. 

“I’m not a virgin.” He says, you clench your jaw feeling awkward. “It’s just been a while, I'm out of practice.” 

“How long?” You ask.

You bring his hand up and place it on your breast. “I like having my nipples played with.” You say letting go of his hand, encouraging him to squeeze. You smile at him, you need to keep yourself open and calm. 

“Couple of years,” he says, like it's the most embarrassing fact in the world. Now you just feel bad for him, again. You reach down for the hand resting on the chair arm and pick it up. You can see the bulge in his pants, that's good, one less obstacle you need to worry about. 

His hands are rougher than Johnny’s, his grip is tighter, you’re not sure if it’s out of nerves or not. If he relaxes it will be easier, you don’t think that's going to be happening any time soon. His thumb brushes over your nipple and you reward it with a hum, trying to make your body relax even more. 

His other hand comes up to your other beast and before you know it he has both his thumbs running over your nipples. It feels good, if this were any other situation-or Johnny you might be able to cum just like this. 

You feel Johnny step up behind you, his hands land on your waist as he pulls you back against him. 

“Wanna see what else she likes?” He asks, resting his chin on your shoulder. Simon looks up at him and nods. Johnny leaves you and Simon drops his hand as you both watch Johnny move the coffee table out the way. When he’s done he goes over to the sofa and pulls the throw down on the floor, sitting down with his back against the sofa. 

“Come.” He says gesturing at you, you raise an eyebrow and walk over anyway, he spreads his legs and pats on the floor between them.

“Pants off, back on my chest.” He says, you nod pulling them off. This time you don’t get embarrassed thinking about Simon seeing you. You sit down between his legs and rest up against his back. You look over at Simon who’s face has turned a light red. Maybe this is too much, too fast. 

He hasn’t said stop though. Johnny reaches over and pulls your knees up so Simon has a perfect view of you spread out against him. You can feel his own cock pressing against your lower back, his hands run down your thighs eventually pressing on your clit. 

You try not to squirm, keeping yourself still. You let out a breath as Johnny moves his fingers round soaking them in your juices before pressing them back on your clit. You moan this time at the new sensation, his fingers pressing little circles with ease. 

That’s good though right? You should be looking like you’re enjoying yourself. This is a fun activity not something to be afraid off. 

“She likes this too, Si. Wanna feel?” Johnny says then presses a kiss into your neck. You watch as he shifts in the chair, for a second he looks like he doesn’t know what to say. He lets out a sigh and stands up out of the chair, he steps over then kneels down in front of you. He watches for a second as Johnny changes his strokes. 

You see Simon swallow before he reaches out. Johnny’s fingers are replaced with his. It’s a whole different sensation. His movements are slower, more unsure but the pressure is there and from having them both play with your nipples your body is slowly building up to that sweet release. 

“Put your fingers in her.” Johnny says after a few seconds. Simon looks up at him then quickly to you, you smile and nod at him. He shuffles on his knees again taking his fingers off your clit almost like he’s unsure. 

You watch his adam's apple bob then he presses a finger into you. You can’t help moaning, his finger stops, you smile at him and he continues to press it in until he can’t anymore. You feel Johnny’s cock twitch behind you. He’s enjoying this, he moves his fingers back to your clit. 

“Feel good love?” Johnny asks in your ear, you nod. “Use your words darlin’ tell him how good you feel.” 

“Your finger feels good Simon, you can use more if you want.” You say looking up at him. You think you see the faintest smile creep onto his lips. The next time he pulls his finger out he adds another. The new stretch makes you part your legs further, scooting your position slightly so his fingers rub against your g-spot with each thrust. You moan again, this time tipping your head slightly. You want to come but not until Simon’s ready, you don’t want to scare him. 

“See not so scary after all.” Johnny says, you can hear the smile in his voice. You look up at Simon who seems like he’s in a world of his own, maybe that's where he needs to be to get through this. You wonder what happened to him, you didn’t bother asking Johnny. It must have been something horrible. 

You let out a moan trying not to clench down on Simon’s fingers, you don’t want to spook him. Johnny hums in your neck, you know he’ll know you’re close, sometimes it feels like he can read your body better than you. 

“What to make her cum?” Johnny asks, you almost want to nod and scream yes. Simon looks up again, he hesitates for a second, his fingers stopping in you. He nods and you smile at him. 

“Just don’t take your fingers out okay?” Johnny asks, you swallow, you don’t want either of them to take their fingers off you. Simon nods again, his fingers start moving again, he makes sure to press in all the way. He speeds up too, you’re not in control anymore, maybe it’s for the best. 

Johnny’s fingers on your clit are relentless, you’re focusing on not spooking Simon or clenching around his fingers until you cum. Johnny hums in your ear and it sends shivers down your spine. He can tell your close cock twitches behind you. You’re not sure if you need to give an audible warning to Simon though. 

Your breathing increases as does your moaning, you’re close and you need to make your mind up. 

“Johnny.” You call his name, it’s almost like you need to wait for his permission, you’re not sure what to do.

“Yeah baby, come for us.” His voice low in your ear. Christ, that's all the permission you need, you tip your head back and close your eyes moaning as you clench down on Simon’s fingers. He stops moving but you don’t care. Johnny rides you through the orgasm as Simon’s fingers leave you. 

“See, not so bad.” You hear Johnny say. You open your eyes as you feel Simon get up to his feet. 

“Si?” Johnny asks as he moves to leave the room. You sit up.

“Bathroom.” Is all he says as he leaves the living room.

“Is he okay?” You ask leaning forward between Johnny’s legs. You turn to look at him watching out the door. You both hear the downstairs toilet door close. Johnny looks back over at you and smiles, you can see the concern in his eyes though, he’s not as slick as he thinks he is. 

“You did great.” He smiles, leaning forward to kiss you. You can’t help feeling like you’ve done something wrong though. Maybe it was all too much for him. 

“I’ll go check on him.” Johnny says helping you to your feet. You smile at him and nod. Maybe he just needs a second. You feel bad all of a sudden. Johnny leaves and you shiver, the room suddenly feels cold. You’re just standing there naked, you’re not sure if things are going to continue. 

You reach over pulling the other throw off the couch and wrap yourself up. At least this way if he wants to keep going you don’t have to go through the hassle of taking all your clothes off. You want to sit down but your curiosity gets the better of you and you head over to the living room door. 

You hear the toilet door open. No one says anything, you make sure to keep out of sight of the hall, trying to focus on listening. 

You hear Johnny sigh. “You did so well mate.” There’s a sniffle in response, is he crying? Now you really feel bad for eavesdropping. 

“Wanna stay the night?” Johnny asks, there’s no response.

“Want a mask?” He asks, you frown, a mask? “Guest room, in the chest of drawers.” You hear movement and step back over to sit on the sofa. You’re still getting comfy as Johnny walks in. He smiles at you and comes over to sit next to you. His arm comes round your shoulders and he pulls you up against him. 

“Simon’s going to stay the night.” He says kissing the top of your head. You nod trying to swallow the guilt of eavesdropping on their conversation. Johnny reaches over to pick up the remote and unmute the TV. 

“Is he okay?” You ask. 

“He’s fine. He just needs a minute.” Johnny says. You nod 

“Thank you.” He says. “Really I mean it. You didn’t have to do this.” You look up at him and smile, it makes you feel all warm inside.

“I love you johnny.” You say. 

“I love you too.”

---

[cinnamanz]

# MAMMA MIA — chapter twenty-seven!

there’s always been one rule in the group: don’t bring up y/n. no one really knows why, but it’s clear sophia would rather leave her ex-best friend in the past. once inseparable, their friendship dissolved after a summer camp that no one talks about, and y/n vanished, moving god-knows-where without so much as a goodbye. some say it was a fight. others say it was something more. only sophia knows the truth—or maybe not even she does. now, as the third year at dream academy begins, sophia is blindsided by y/n's unexpected return. gone is the familiar, easygoing childhood bestfriend she remembers. in her place is someone sharper, colder, and—unfortunately for sophia—hotter than ever. (who gave her the permission to look so fine?)

wc: 390

AWKWARD

Y/N STOOD BY THE FRONT DOOR, arms crossed, watching as sophia and her brothers hauled their bags inside. her expression was unreadable, eyes flicking over sophia for a brief second before shifting away like she was nothing more than another suitcase being dragged across the hardwood floor.

sophia wanted to say something. had been thinking about saying something since she first saw y/n standing there, indifferent as ever. but with the way y/n held herself—closed off, uninterested, like she didn’t even care that they were going to be stuck under the same roof—sophia hesitated.

still, the silence was unbearable. so she tried.

before she could, y/n stepped forward, eyes scanning the pile of bags. without a word, she reached for the largest one—sophia’s overstuffed duffel, the one that made her arms ache just carrying it inside—and hoisted it onto her shoulder like it weighed nothing.

"you’re upstairs," y/n muttered, already turning toward the staircase. "follow me."

sophia blinked, surprised, then adjusted the strap of her remaining bag and followed.

the walk up was tense. y/n didn’t look back. sophia didn’t try to make conversation. not yet.

when they reached the top, y/n nudged open the door to the master bedroom, stepping aside to let sophia pass before setting the duffel down at the foot of the bed without a word.

"this is yours?" sophia asked, half expecting y/n to say yes.

y/n shook her head. "guest room. my room’s next door."

sophia nodded slowly, pressing her lips together. she should let y/n go. should let her disappear behind the next door over and pretend this whole situation wasn’t weird.

but before she could stop herself, she blurted out, "your bass playing earlier. it was good. really good." sophia mentally face palmed at how giddy she'd sounded

y/n paused, hand still on the doorframe. she glanced back, expression unreadable.

"and," sophia continued, clearing her throat, "your acting too. at the fundraiser. your roma was—uh—phenomenal."

a flicker of something passed through y/n’s eyes, too quick to catch. but her face remained impassive. "thanks," she said, flat, almost dismissive.

then she turned on her heel, disappearing into her room without another word. sophia let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. awkward. this was going to be so awkward.

masterlist ✮⋆｡˚📽️ next

FUCK YELLOWJACKETS ALL THAT SHOW EVER DOES IS BRING ME PAIN I AM IN MOURNING FUCKKKKKKK anyway . GUYS I SAW BILLIE EILISH LIVE 2 DAYS AGO IM GNA COMBUST my sophia pc was there too nd she saw billie eilish live what a lucky pc. also this was quite a lot of stuff on one chap so js ignore that LAWL

@zindoriyo @goofymickeyr @saysirhc @kathleenmikaelson @soobnotfound @jjjaliyah @meganskiendielsbtc @magixpracticality @phamapple @sed7ction @1luvkarina @linnnsworld @hotluvlet @bauzer @saranglasses @kkoga @chaesitonmyface @arihiu @peanutbutterlover05 @kristalag @ssamlovr @sunshinez4 @meiyaes @solentient @jsxjmn @reey0w @vrtualstar @justtluvrr @fruityg0rl @cyberbonesworld @haerinkisser @lafortezalover @cassiespoiler @skz-xii @ninguitar @kimminjswife @yeetaberry127 @p1hbrook @hazel-tanthamore22 @caitlynglazer @minjvers @tormaa1 @nwjnsloona @itzkatflixs @namojoon @falling-intoo-deep @waitsobs @nyssalvr @blushmimi @cindergorge TAGLIST CLOSED

[cheapshrimpysheep]

True Feelings Chocolate - Freshmen

SUMMARY: It is normal on Valentine's Day for friends or schoolmates to exchange chocolates with each other. However, the quality of the chocolate reveals how the person really sees you. And homemade chocolate is the greatest message of love that someone can receive on this day.

CHARACTERS: Freshmen (Ace Trappola / Deuce Spade / Jack Howl / Epel Felmier / Sebek Zigvolt) x Yuu (Reader)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Kiss

WORD COUNT: An average of 1.000 words per character.

COMMENTS: The number of words varies depending on how much the character is the type to hide his true feelings.

I also would like to be able to write Epel's accent/dialect, but as English is not my first language this becomes a bit difficult sometimes. When I really want to write something like that I ask Gemini for help.

I hope you enjoy and had Happy Valentine's Day 💝

True Feelings Chocolate - OB Students (Riddle Rosehearts / Leona Kingscholar / Azul Ashengrotto / Jamil Viper / Vil Schoenheit / Idia Shroud / Malleus Draconia) x Yuu (Reader)

REAL WORLD CONTEXT: You may already know this, but Valentine's Day in Japan is different than in Western countries. In Asia (from what I know and have researched) this day is not exclusively related to romantic love but also to friendship or simple connections between schoolmates or work colleagues.

Just like in the West, it is marked by the gifting of chocolate, but the quality of the chocolate differs: If it's a boss or colleague you're not friends with, they're usually cheaper, more common chocolates. The quality and even price of the chocolate increases according to the relationship with the person to whom it is offered. And a chocolate made by the person themselves is the most valuable of all and is usually, from what I understand, almost like a confession of love.

On Valentine's Day, it is women who offer chocolates to men, but in this case, to keep Yuu gender-neutral and make it so that they can also offer chocolates to them, I just kept the chocolates’s logic and excluded the gender thing.

Another thing is that since it is normal to give chocolates to friends as well, it becomes more discreet to give more special chocolates to a certain person and it doesn't draw attention to simply give chocolate to someone.

NOTE: Thaumarks would be the equivalent of US dollars.

Since cherry pie is Ace's favorite food, you decide to make chocolate covered cherries, and you bought a red heart shaped box from Sam's Mystery Shop to put them in.

Meanwile, on one of the nights before Valentine's Day, Ace was alone in Heartslabyul’s kitchen with as few lights on as possible (which includes his phone’s light) and trying to cook without making noise when someone calmly enters and scares him with their presence.

“I think you know how lucky you are that I'm the one who found you and not Riddle.” Trey says with a weird smile.

“T-T-T-Trey-senpai...” Ace smiles awkwardly, that smile he hopes will get him out of trouble. “P-please, I... I-I'm just trying to follow the Valentine's Day rules, y-you know.”

“Following the rules?” Trey raises an eyebrow, looks at the mess on the kitchen table, and then looks back at Ace with a smirk. “Oh, so you’re making the chocolates? I wonder who they are for.”

“Hey, I'm not that obvious!... Am I?” He worries.

“But why didn't you do this during the day? I mean, I know you're trying to keep Deuce and the other students from seeing you, but I’m sure they have schedules that don't always overlap with yours.”

“Yeah, but I also had the problem of buying the ingredients without being seen. And I almost failed a bunch of times.” Ace sighs.

Trey laughs. “Well, you don't have much time until Valentine's Day... Hmm... Would you like my help? Maybe this way you'll finish faster and we can both go to bed.”

Ace is immediately overjoyed and relieved, but then asks him not to tell anyone. Trey promises not to tell anyone if no one catches them in the kitchen at that hour. A big part of the reason he helps Ace is so he doesn't have to deal with that problem the next day.

On Valentine's Day, you were preparing the boxes of chocolate to deliver to the Heartslabyul boys when you heard someone knocking on your door. You open it and see Ace catching his breath and then straightening up to pretend he wasn't tired at all.

“Heeey! Good morning, (Y/N)!” Ace greets you with that cute smile. You ask if he's okay when you see him panting as he speaks. “Y-yeah. It was just a long ru- walk. So... I was passing by and took the opportunity to come and say hi...” He smirks “And take whatever you might have to give me today.”

“You came all this way so early just to try to be the first one to get the chocolates?" you ask.

“He he, another good way to brag to Deuce.” He smiles smugly before returning to that cute smile. “So where are my sweets~?”

You turn around to get the bag of chocolates and take his box to hand it to him. He seems happier not to see any brand on the box, but even so he messes with you.

“Hmm? What's this? Don't tell me you made my chocolates?” He becomes even happier when he sees your reaction. “Well, let's see how they came out!”

He opens the box and finds several small chocolate balls like regular bonbons. He comments that he is a little disappointed, he thought you could do something more interesting. He takes one to taste, bites into it and widens his eyes.

“They are... cherries? Chocolate covered cherries?”

You ask what he was saying about them not being interesting and he laughs as he happily admits he was wrong.

“But they still look kind of boring.” he jokes. “I...” he gets a little flustered “I have something for you too.”

He had the backpack he used for his books with him, he put your box inside and took out another one, another red heart shaped box. He felt a little embarrassed as he looked at the box, that color was was so much flashier than yours.

“Yeah, it is pretty cliché too, but hey, it's also my suit.”

He holds the box with one hand and takes the other to the tip of the heart where there was a protrusion that served as a handle. He pulls it, opening the box like a drawer. The box is empty except for a folded piece of paper. You pick it up, unfold it, and read the message: ‘Sorry, I already ate them all. Should have been quicker!’ and a drawing of a smiley face with its tongue sticking out. Ace laughs at your reaction.

“I'm kidding, I'm kidding.” he defends himself when you playfully hit him on the arm. He closes that drawer and when he opens it again it is full of little chubby hearts made of your favorite chocolate. You reach out to pick one up but stop and look at him suspiciously. “Fine, fine. No more tricks with these chocolates, I promise.” he smiles.

You take out one of the chocolate hearts and bite into it to discover that it has your favorite filling. They were very good... too good. You sigh, feigning (or not) disappointment, and comment that for a moment you thought those were chocolates made by him.

“What?! What do you mean?! Of course I was the one who made them!”

You say they're too good for someone who you know doesn't like to cook or has a knack for it. They're more like sweets that... Trey would make.

“Ah... ugh... Okay, fine, I asked Trey-senpai for help. And... maybe kind of... tried to make him do most of the work... B-but that's because... um... *sigh* You said it yourself, I don't like cooking and I don't have a knack for it. I wanted to make sure your chocolates turned out as good as possible. And what's better than a sweet made by a professional like my Vice-Housewarden?” he smiles hoping that would save him from a scolding.

You may not scold him, but if he sees you upset or sad about it, he will feel really bad for having done that to you.

“Hey, I really tried to make them, I swear. The crooked ones are mine, haha. What happened was that Trey-senpai caught me making them in the kitchen at night and offered to help me. I really wanted to give you something that would show how much I love you, but...” He falls silent and blushes when he realizes what he just said. His instinct is to kinda change the subject. “Y-You know, I could have lost my head if it had been the Housewarden who caught me there and not him! I put my neck on the line for you. That should, at least, be a mitigating factor in this case.”

If you give him a kiss on the cheek to show that you forgive him, he will be stunned for a second, but then he will smile seductively, grab you by the waist and give you a real kiss.

Knowing that Deuce’s favorite food is anything with eggs, you look for recipes with eggs and chocolate. The first results are for chocolate eggs until you come across a recipe for Egg Yolk Chocolate Chip Cookies. Maybe you could even shape them into hearts, or better yet, into the shape of the suit of swords.

Meanwhile, Deuce isn't shy about asking Trey for help making your chocolates... okay, maybe a little bit, because it's basically telling him that he has a crush on you, although Trey kind of already knew. The only thing he asks is that they manage to make the chocolates without Ace knowing, so as not to make fun of him. Luckily for him, Cater is also willing to help that cute little freshman of his distracting Ace.

On Valentine's Day, you were putting the boxes of chocolates in a bag to give to the Heartslabyul boys, including the blue heart-shaped box you bought to put Deuce's cookies in, when someone knocks on your door.

“H-hey. G-good morning (Y/N).” Deuce greeted you with a hint of nervousness and shyness when you open the door. “I hope I'm not bothering you, hum, I mean, so soon.”

You reassure him that he never bothers you and that makes him blush a little.

“I'm glad... hum... Since today is Valentine's Day I... I wanted to... give you this.” He takes his hand from behind his back and offers you a quite cute heart-shaped box.

He feels more at ease when he sees that you liked the surprise and happier when you accepted it willingly. You open the box and see several hearts of your favorite chocolate. Many look good, but others are a little crooked. This makes you chuckle.

“Ha ha. Yeah, I know, I'm not very good at shaping them.” he says slightly embarrassed. “P-please try them, tell me what you think. I asked for Trey-senpai's help to make sure I did them the best I could.”

You pick one up and take a bite. It was pretty good, not as good as Trey could make them, but you could tell he had a hand in helping him. Besides that, they had clearly been made by Deuce.

“So, you like it?” He asks with a shy smile even though he can see the way you're smiling. You confirm and his smile widens. “I'm glad!”

You take the opportunity to turn around, pick up the blue heart-shaped box you had puted in the bag and offer it to him. Deuce widens his eyes in surprise.

“Oh? You...? It’s for me?”

Regardless of whether you cutely or sarcastically say yes, he will laugh embarrassedly and flattered, and blush a little if you call him ‘silly’. He picks up the box with a cute smile and is surprised again when he sees cookies shaped like the suit of spades and hearts instead of regular chocolates.

You tell him they are egg yolk chocolate chip cookies and that you made them because you wanted to do something that combines chocolate and his favorite food: eggs. He beams with happiness just hearing you say you made them, and even more so that you made them so thoughtfully.

“They look delicious, I'm sure they taste as good as they look.” he says excitedly to try one, and as soon as he does it you see one of the most sincere and adorable smiles you've ever seen on him.

“THEY'RE GREAT!” he shouts too excitedly and then gets a little embarrassed. “Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to say it so loud. It's just... you made these for me. Hmm... is that because... are you following the rules of this day?” he blushes. “You know, about, if the chocolates are handmade it must mean that...”

He's too flustered to finish his sentences, so he'll need you to be the one to take the next step and kiss him on the cheek. If you do, he will look at you in amazement for a second, before smiling broadly, hugging you and giving you a kiss on the cheek as well, but extremely passionately.

You know that Jack’s favorite food is pear compote, so you look for something that combines this and chocolate. The closest thing you can find is chocolate pear cake. Maybe if you cut it into smaller cubes it will be more like classic chocolates than giving him a whole cake. You also bought a yellow box in Sam's Mystery Shop to put them in.

Meanwhile, Jack was making your chocolates in Savanaclaw’s kitchen and would growl menacingly at anyone who messed with him about it, or even tried to. With the sole exception of Ruggie who offered to eat the chocolates that turned out so badly that Jack wouldn't want to offer them to you.

On Valentine's Day, you were preparing the boxes of chocolates to deliver to the Savanaclaw boys, when you heard someone knocking on your door.

“Hey, (Y/N). Hum, good morning.” Jack greets you slightly tense, despite trying to hide it. “Happy Valentine's Day. I... uh...” His impassive expression began to fade as his ears lowered, giving way to a more shy one. “I came here because I wanted to give you this.” He takes his hand from behind his back and hands you a red heart-shaped box with a pink bow. “Sorry if it's too cliché, but, uh, I thought you would like it anyway.” he rubs the back of his neck.

He starts to wag his tail a little when he sees that you enjoyed receiving that gift from him. You open it and find hearts of your favorite chocolate. However, they all have slightly different sizes and shapes, maybe only one or two could have an almost perfect, cymetrical shape of a heart, now all the others... You couldn't contain a little laugh.

“I know, I know.” he says embarrassedly, running a hand over the back of his neck again. “I'm terrible at delicate work. And these chocolates are too small for my hands.”

You pick one up and take a bite out of it. You say it tastes really good and his tail wags a little more as he smiles proudly. You take the opportunity to take his yellow box out of the bag and hand it to him. His tail wags again when he sees the box.

“I shouldn't be surprised that you'd want to give me something today too, should I?” He chuckles. “Thanks.” He picks up the box with a big smile and opens it. “Hmm? They look like little slices of cake.”

You tell him that you wanted to make something with pear compote since it is his favorite, but the most you could find were recipes for chocolate pear cake. So you thought that if you cut them a little smaller it would be the closest thing to regular chocolates.

“You're saying...” His tail begins to lose its shyness and takes up more space when wagging. “That you were the one who made them? And you tried so hard to make something I would like?” His big smile returns. “They look great. Let's see how good a cook you are!”

He takes one of the small slices but doesn't bite into it, as they are small enough for him to put them whole in his mouth, completely confident that it will taste good. And by the smile, the crazy wagging tail and the erect ears, this seems to be the case.

“They taste great too!” He was clearly overjoyed with your ‘chocolates’, but then the tail slowed down, the ears lowered slightly and his shyness returned. “Hey, I... I just wanted to make sure...” He looked away from you and his free hands went back to rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s said that if the chocolates are handmade it must mean...”

He seems to be struggling to continue that sentence and, knowing the Tsundere that he is, you realize that you need to be the one to help him.

“That the person has feelings for the other?” you finish for him. “Or even a crush?”

He finally starts to blush for real, but when he sees your reassuring smile he realizes and is sure that the feeling is mutual. This makes him loosen up, letting his tail wag like it wanted to wag all along, and he... laughs heartily, like you've never seen before. But you were surprised once again when he practically attacked you with a hug.

You have to be careful not to drop the chocolates as he covers your face with kisses, just as he has to be careful not to drop his.

You knew macarons were one of Epel’s favorite foods. So chocolate macarons seemed like a good Valentine's Day chocolate option. However, they are difficult to make and require care and skill, which means you have put a lot of work into making them.

You were going to put them in a lavender box that you bought at Sam's Mystery Shop. But you didn't buy a normal, cute box. Sam ‘just happened’ to have a lavender box in stock with a lineart of two dragons forming a heart, but in a way that reminds you of a cool tattoo rather than a cute drawing.

Meanwhile, in Pomefiore's kitchen, Epel was making his chocolates feeling very tense. Because he wanted to make your chocolates as perfect as possible to prove himself worthy of praise and of you? It could have been, if he hadn't had something, or rather someones, who made him even more tense than that thought.

Epel could feel Rook's watchful gaze, even if he was watching Epel through the window from a tree branch. But that wasn't necessary because he made a deal with Epel: If he let Rook watch him cook without worrying about him interrupting or interfering, Rook would keep any and all other Pomefiore students out of the kitchen until Epel was finished. So he silently watched Epel from the corner... which wasn't exactly a comfortable feeling.

But another person from whom he couldn't hide what he wanted to do in the kitchen was the Housewarden of Pomefiore himself.

“If a Pomefiore student is going to give Valentine's Day chocolates to a crush...” Vil said and Epel tried to deny that last word without much conviction, which made Vil chuckle in amusement. “Fine, to someone they really like, then they will have to be the most beautiful sweets that said student is humanly capable of making. And that's why I'll be evaluating them once they're finished. You don't want to give (Y/N) anything less than your best, do you?”

He reluctantly agreed. This plus Rook's observation only put more pressure on him. However, this is the kind of pressure that motivates Epel even more, which ends up being a good thing.

On Valentine's Day, you're putting the boxes of chocolates in the bag to deliver to the Pomefiore boys, when you hear someone knocking on your door.

“Good morning, (Y/N)!” Epel greets you with that sweet, enthusiastic smile, but then he gets a little shy. “Happy Valentine's Day. I just, uh, came here because I wanted to give you this.”

He takes his hands from behind his back and hands you a beautiful heart-shaped box with a classic design. He is very happy that you liked his gift so much. You pick up the box and open it to find beautiful, plump hearts made from what looks like your favorite chocolate and beautiful, carefully crafted lineart. You comment that it must have been a lot of work to do.

“You have no idea...” he says through gritted teeth and with a smile that tries to hide his frustration. And you ask if he wants to talk about it. “I... How about you try them first?” he diverts the subject momentarily with an awkward smile.

You pick up one of the chocolates and bite into it to discover that it has your favorite filling. And indeed, they taste as good as they look. He turns his back to you and mutters, in an irritated triumph, a few phrases in his dialect. You only catch something about him being right and ‘he’ not knowing what ‘he’ was talking about. And something about diet, maybe. You ask if everything was okay and what he was saying. He turns back to you.

“I was talking about my Housewarden!” He says bluntly. “Vil was like: ‘are you going to make them such high-calorie chocolates?’” he imitates him in an affected voice that would certainly get him into trouble if Vil heard it. “And like ‘Don't you think you made many considering their poor nutrition?’. I was lucky that Rook defended me on many points, saying things like: 'This shows how sweet Monsieur Pommette’s love is’.” He made another eccentric voice to imitate Rook. “And cheesy things like that... And... I may or may not have talked back to Vil because of his criticisms.”

You ask what he did or said.

“At first the criticism was constructive, like whether the chocolates were pretty or not. But then he started criticizing the chocolates because of the calories. You know, stupid ideas because of his diets or something. It even got to the point where he almost told me to do something that I knew you wouldn't like and that's when I told him: ‘THESE CHOCOLATES ARE NOT FOR YOU! AND YOU CAN'T FORCE YOUR TASTES ON OTHERS!’”

He reenacted the way he said that to Vil and you can only imagine how he reacted when he saw Epel yelling at him with that furious face. Then he calmed down again and sighed.

“Right after that he wanted me to apologize. I apologized for the way I spoke, but not for what I said. And do you know what he said to me? ‘And that is exactly the apology you should make to me.’” He imitated Vil again to the point of making that gesture with his index finger next to his chin and put a smug face on. “ ‘What you said is more than correct, now the way you said it needs to be worked on.’ HE WAS PURPOSELY IRRITATING ME TO TEST ME! CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS?! And Rook even helped by praising the passionate way I expressed myself and yada, yada, yada.”

You can no longer contain your laughter when you imagine that scene. And Epel laughs with you. Oh, you almost forgot! You turn around and go to the bag to get Epel’s box to give to him.

“WOW! IT'S SO COOL!” Epel smiled excitedly when he sees the drawing of dragons on the box.

Then he looked at you and his smile became sweeter, having been reminded that you actually know the real him. He wasted no time in opening the box and he genuinely smiles so cutely when he sees the chocolate macarons. But then you see him pick up one of the macarons and analyze it. You ask if there's something wrong.

“Did you make them?” he asks with a really puzzled look, but soon his eyes widen and the big smile returns as you confirm. “So that's why they are a little crooked and with some cracks. Hahaha.”

You pout at him and notices his cheeks starting to turn pink.

“Hey, I'm not making fun of you." he says, still with a slightly mocking smile. "Macarons are hard to make. And honestly, you did such a good job that I almost thought they were bought." Then he smirked. “But they wouldn't sell macarons in this state.” He laughs at your annoyed reaction. “They look delicious, tho. Let's dig in!”

He tastes the macaron in his hand and once again his eyes widen, accompanied by a huge smile.

“Mmm, that's darn good!” he says in his accent. “But, tell me just one more thing.” he says with a smug smile. “Do you know what it means to give someone chocolates made by yourself today?” You confirm. “That's what I was hoping for!”

And in a surprising movement of grabbing you by the waist with his free hand, he pulls you and kisses your cheek with confidence.

Knowing that Sebek’s favorite food is Salmon carpaccio doesn't help you know exactly what you should do, but knowing that his least favorite food is Black coffee helps you conclude that dark chocolate is not a good option. But with that maybe you can think more about the shape of the chocolates... Does Sam have any dragon molds for sale?

Meanwhile, no Diasomnia’s student approaches the kitchen so that their eardrums wouldn't be ruptured by Sebek's voice. Just the energy of ‘Don't you dare bother me, humans!’ was enough for them to reach the door and immediately turn around. With only 3 exceptions. But luckily for him one of those exceptions wasn't even around at the time. Luckily because he was thinking about making chocolates for Malleus too.

Silver doesn't really get involved in other people's business. At most, he gives a little smile on the corner of his mouth, thinking it's amusing, and leaves him alone.

Lilia, on the other hand, really, really, REALLY wanted to mess with him a little. He couldn't contain his desire to stay in the kitchen and watch him cook, which on the one hand put more pressure on Sebek, but also made him more determined to make everything perfect. Lilia even offered to help him.

“I-It is very generous of you to offer me your precious aid, Lilia-sama.” he said, and he always feels guilty and dishonored for avoiding Lilia's cooking. “But, as honorable as it would be, I will have to decline the offer. For I intend to strive to make the chocolates with the greatest perfection through my solo effort and improving skills.”

He may have saved himself from Lilia 'helping' him make your chocolates, but he couldn't save himself from Lilia's comments insinuating that he (as the youngsters say) ships the two of you. Part of Lilia also wanted to trick him a little bit to make him court you in a weird and funny way, but he held himself back. He wasn't one to abuse Sebek's trust to the point of actually ruining things between you.

On Valentine's Day, you were putting the boxes of chocolates in the bag to deliver to the Diasomnia boys when you heard someone knocking on your door.

“HUMAN!” Sebek shouts with a slight blush of embarrassment on his face and as if he were doing it almost out of obligation. “I'm here to fulfill the chocolate delivery ritual.” He hands you the black heart-shaped box with green lineart that he didn't even bother to hide behind his back. “P-please accept my offering.” he stuttered for an almost imperceptible second.

You pick up the box with a little smile, finding it all funny. You open the box and find hearts made with your favorite chocolate. You pick one up and bite into it, discovering that it also has your favorite filling inside.

“Well, I may conclude that you are perfectly satisfied with my cooking.” He says with a smug smile that tries to hide the real delight he feels at seeing you smile like that. But then he became serious again. “With this, my visit to you comes to its conclusion. Have a good day.”

He immediately turns to start walking to the gate, but you stop him. He turns around alarmed by the way you asked him to wait.

“WHAT IS IT?! Is there something missing?! I knew I should have gotten flowers too!”

And so his composed mask falls, at least for that moment. He really seems worried that he did something wrong and is sorry for whatever mistake he made. However, you can't help but laugh at that drastic change in behavior.

“WHA- NOW YOU ARE MOCKING ME?!” He makes that angry face that is so common of him that it doesn't even worry you anymore. “For what motive did you ask me to detain myself?!”

You turn to grab his box from the bag and hand it to him. It's a green heart-shaped box with a black bow. He almost jumps in surprise.

“You...” he says in a lower voice (which to anyone would be just a regular volume) “You got me chocolates too?”

He picks up your box with a delicacy you've never seen before and a little glint of wonder in his eyes. He opens the box to find chocolates, some milk, others white, shaped like little dragon heads. And with that he made that emotional face that he practically only directed at Malleus or Lilia.

“HOW MAJESTIC! Such a sublime creature recreated in its glory! You... human... are so... CRUEL!”

You ask why he is saying that, worried and above all confused.

“How do you expect me to ruin a work of art such as this? And worst of all through INGESTION?! I CAN NOT! This must be preserved!”

You try to convince him to eat them because if he doesn't they'll spoil. And you even say that you didn't know he would see things that way, you just thought he would like those molds because of, well, Malleus. And you comment that maybe you should have chosen something else because you really want him to taste what you did for him.

���They... they were made by you?” His face contorts into even more emotional pain and indecision.

You say you have the molds and can make more if he wants. This makes his eyes widen, almost filling with tears, and shine with joy and relief.

“THAT WOULD BE SIMPLY WONDERFUL! ... GH!... hu-hum. I mean, I would be very grateful if you did.” he smiles with a slight blush. “Now,” he smirks. “I should uncover the result of your labor.”

He takes one of the chocolates and bites into it. And you can see from his emotional expression that he's trying hard not to start showering you with praise like he does with Malleus.

“I must confess, for a human devoid of any magic or enviable abilities, your cooking is more than satisfactory.”

You look at him with that face of someone asking if that really is the best thing he can say to you. He sighs and blushes a little again.

“Very well. You desire to hear my most genuine opinion, correct?” he smiles, in a rather sweet way. “I truly enjoyed it. I didn't want to inflate your ego, but since you insist, they are some of the best homemade chocolates I've ever had. It is an honor to be worthy of tasting something like this and with the exclusivity of having it made especially for me. Thank you very much, (Y/N).”

You're surprised for a moment that he said your name and not ‘human’. And in the meantime, his posture changes, at first he seems uncertain about something but then he becomes surprisingly confident to the point of smiling smugly at you.

“Well, I assume you are well aware of the rules of  chocolate giving on Valentine's Day. And what implies delivering chocolates made by the offeror to the offeree.”

Seeing your expression of confirmation, he takes your hand, leans in and kisses the back of it. When he looks at you again, in the eyes, you see a shine and affection that you never thought you would see in him.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[euphoria-looney]

Astro!

Yan!Batfam x Neglected!Reader Squid Games!AU

m. list|next

"And goodness knows, The Wicked's Lives are lonely. Goodness knows, The Wicked die alone. It just shows, when you're wicked, You're left only, on your own." 'No One Mourns The Wicked' by Wicked the Musical

Divider creds: (?) and @dollywons

As a kid, all I longed for was someone to play a game with me that didn’t require some form of technology to keep both of us entertained.

Well, be careful what you wish for, because I have reached an all-time low, willing to kill people with children's games to earn money.

How much longer will I spend in this twisted game before getting killed? Maybe this is better whether I win or lose, I still gain freedom.

One choice is just the better option. 

That’d be losing winning.

Sure I would feel immense guilt, but I’d be free from debt… and then what? No longer needing to slave anyway from the amount of money I receive.

What then?

Could therapy even help? They’d probably send me off to a mental ward. 

Who's going to believe I won millions from playing some children’s games?

I looked around and saw the old man again from earlier, sitting alone in a space, I approached him, and he accepted to play with me.

“When I was little, this was one of my favorite games as a child.” The old man told us while we were walking into an open area.

“Really? I’ll be honest, I’ve never played this game before.”

As we finally found a point to play the game, we conversed.

—

“Did we do this to make a pact?”

He held out his hand, his pinkie and thumb sticking out, I laughed, wrapping my pinkie around his, pressing our thumbs together.

“Sir, no my gganbu- I think that’s what they called a really close friend right?”

—

Eventually we went all for nothing, this was the funniest game I ever played… I almost forgot the fact that I was going to die at the end.

“Ah, guess you won, betting all my marbles for your single one. Didn’t see that one coming.” I chuckled sadly.

He held my hand and placed the last marble in my palm.

“Take it, it’s yours anyway.” I looked up at him in shock, I could feel tears welling up in my eyes.

“We are gganbu aren’t we? Remember we swore on it. And Gganbu always shares everything no matter what. You made this all possible.” My shoulder shook, as I could only stare at my shoes, my eyes felt like facets at the point. 

And then I felt these same hands embrace me, and I felt like a child all over again.

“What a great way to go.”

He pulled away, making me face him.

“Thank you. I had a good time.”

I hugged him once again, my tears overflowing on his shoulders.

He let go and I walked out of the gates.

Sniffles were all I could do before I heard the voice behind me.

“I remember my name now. My name is Il-nam. Oh Il-nam.”

I kept walking then flinched when I heard a ‘bang’ go off.

Surrounded by all these dead bodies, and these empty emotions, I pushed forward.

[Player 1, Eliminated]

—

Despite everything, I’m still having these selfish thoughts of staying alive.

We had just played ‘glass bridge’ leaving three of us here, dressed in suits, and eventually I was talking with Penelope, she’s the one that helped me out of the restraint we were in after we left for the first time.

“Hey, [name], just in case either of us can actually make it out of this hellhole, promise that we will take care of each other's loved ones, okay?” 

“Don’t say that, we’ll be okay.”

But she took more damage than any of us once the glass had shattered and was losing blood fast.

“Stay where you are, I’ll go get someone.”

I left and went to the guard or whatever they were, to beg, plead, for a doctor, maybe one that could’ve been on standby, but instead they walked past me with a coffin.

I could only stare at my once best friend standing over her bed.

I ran over there and held her body up, shaking her for some sign of hope.

“No, Penelope, please, no…”

—

Approaching the end game, we ate a feast, so fresh and nicely made, I felt the need to puke.

We place in the field shapes surrounding us, to resemble a squid, this was, Squid Game.

The rain soaking both of us, gray skies, and a single guard on the side.

Astro’s shirt still soaked in blood, his suit back on. He spoke before the game began, a knife in hand.

“I ended her suffering. You know she would have died anyway.”

The tears that once stained my face had been washed off by the rain, and now I could only feel disdain for the man I once knew in front of me.

“That’s bullshit, stop lying. She could’ve survived, they could have treated her.”

He retorted.

“I know what you’re like, you’re the reason I had to kill her. I knew you two would stop all this, so she didn’t die there. Even though we’ve gone so far, just to quit?” 

It seemed so similar to the time back at the manor.

—

“Damian had a lot happen to him as a child, are you going to blame him for this?” Dick sighed Damian behind him with no remorse for the fact I had slashes on my arm, not deep but painful. And though they wouldn’t leave scars, would that really matter?

He held a weapon against me while all I had was a stack of books now discarded and torn on the ground.

“[name]. You’re older than him, he’s still a child. You are the reason for this, it could’ve been avoided if you didn’t egg things on. Don’t blame Damian for your faults.” Egg him on? All I did was try and avoid him.

It wasn’t fair.

—

Now, if it wasn’t high before, my blood pressure had to be spiking. For that petty reason? Simply because he didn’t want all of this going to waste?

“Was that it? You killed someone because this might end?” My voice trembled.

“Yeah! You and that girl would have been the majority you needed to get out! Going home without anything! I couldn’t live with that!”

“And you think that means anything?! What?! one more life on top of the others you’ve stolen isn’t enough, and won’t be enough until you receive something?! You’d rather have one more dead than for all three of us to leave and somehow find another way to bring something, anything home?!” I shouted back at him.

I took my knife out of my pocket.

“It's over…”

“I won’t let you leave here with the money.”

3RD POV

While the VIP’s finally stood up to watch this entertaining last game.

Two people who have developed over time physically and mentally, once friends, were squabbling, fighting with very small amounts of energy, but a passion to win.

Both stabbed the other when eventually, player 456 was able to get the other on the ground and punched him over and over again.

The Waynes couldn’t help but be relieved this was it, they’d never let her go again, they would make up for everything starting with making sure she would be okay.

“Found the location heading there soon!” They heard Cassandra on the other line.

Late, but they would make it.

—

[name]’s POV

I held my knife, before stabbing it into the field, next to his face, before limping over to the goal point, it felt miles anyway, the guard had his gun loaded and aimed at Astro.

There before me was the practical finish line.

I can’t… No, I refuse to if anything, playing this game has fucked me other the head, but I refuse for one second to let this game be the last thing I ever see Astro at.

“I wanna end here.” I face the guard walking back to them.

“Clause Three of the agreement. The players are able to end the game when the majority agrees, so if we both give up,  you have to end it right?” I stumbled over.

The guard spoke on the walkie-talkie while I gazed back at Astro.

“Astro.”

“Back when we went to the same school, we’d hang out together and study before leaving chasing after our purpose that called out for us. Nothing's calling anymore.” After all this time, he still is.

I smiled at him, that once gummy smile I adorned, one that I hated so much.

“Let’s go”

I extended my hand to him. 

“Let’s go together.”

He slowly lifted his hand.

“[name], I’m sorry.” 

And before I could react, he took that hand and grabbed the knife that I put right next to him, and impaled himself in the neck with it. 

Blood gushed out and he choked out blood.

I quickly went to his side, stabilizing his head.

“Astro! Astro!”

“[name]..”

“No, no, don’t speak! Hang on!” I was panicking, this can’t be the end of us.

“M-my mother, please take care of my mom. And…”

“I love you.” That made me freeze my erratic movements, I was sure he could’ve seen my eyes widen.

“Loved you since meeting you.” With that, he closed his eyes and I could only call out his name, and held onto his body, it was getting colder fast.

[Player 218, Eliminated. Congratulations, Player456]

—

3rd POV

“Believe in Jesus or go to Hell!” A guy holding two signs chanted outside in the rain, strangers walking past each other, a white limo rolled up on the side of the street, dumping a bruised and exhausted body on the sidewalk, the same guy chanting untied the girl.

“Believe in Jesus.”

The girl was in the bank depositing 4.56 billion dollars before withdrawing some out. Her hair a mess, eyes sullen and eye bags that dragged down her face, she seemed exhausted. Walking back to the store she once worked at, a sign stated ‘SOLD’ and next to it a reef, “Rest in Peace, Conny Claire, Died too soon, old shop owner that meant so much to many people.” Flowers that surround the message.

The girl that came there for a snack could only sink to the ground in shock, hands rising to cover her face, body shaking and quivering.

Walking down a store alleyway, Astro’s mom approached the girl.

“How have you been, here take some food for the road after losing…” She sighed, and patted the girl's back, walking back to her shop.

“Have you heard from… Nevermind.” 

The girl opened her run down apartment where she once lived and went to see all the old photos in the yearbook of classes she had with Astro and in all of the group ones featuring her, her classmates, and Astro she noticed how in each one he was looking at her, with those fond eyes.

She could only fall onto her bed, her tired state crept on her before she fell asleep.

Some time later, the girl kept her promise to Penelope and helped out her family, then left them with Astro’s mom, leaving a wealthy sum of money, they became a family… somewhat of a replacement for the other's loved one, and the girl left paying off whatever debt any of them had.

The girl was sitting alone at the pond, drinking some alcohol. Before an old woman approached her, a flower basket in hand, it seemed she needed to sell them immediately before they wilted away. The girl reached into her pocket, handing her some money before the old woman went off. 

Picking up the nicely wrapped flower, a card appeared, making the girl stumble at picking up the card before reading it.

Approaching a hospital, card in hand.

It was the old man.

“What is this… Who are you?”

“Pour some water for me. Please, [name].”

And there she sat, anger rising in her, but she couldn’t do anything against the man who made the games.

She sat listening to the man talk, about the homeless guy below them, about how everything he said about himself was true, how he missed the old days, him and his friend used to have the time of their lives, and how no matter if you're homeless or rich both lives are no fun. Then a clock struck.

She looked at the machine to see that his heart was no longer beating, instead a flat line appeared. Getting up, she closed his eyes.

That’s when she finally started her life again. She got it together.

So, at the first place, her life changed at the same bus stop, well across from it, the skies were clear and the sun was glaring into the area. It had been a regular day for her, working at her own company and all.

Maybe that’s why when she unlocked her car and stared right in front of her at that same place, she was shocked to see her father, Bruce Wayne, and his family.

That’s it for this part of Astro! Did you like it?

Also, unlike Squid Game, soon after [name] left, everyone that participated in Squid Games got arrested, which made it on the news, but was looked past after a few months, [name] made gravestones for Penelope and Astro.

Ofc the Batfam got the credit and got even more famous for uncovering this incident, which is also why they hadn’t ‘visited’ [name] and now are just getting to it.

Not the update you expected, but I hope you like it.

Any comments, advice and corrections are appreciated!!!

-ILoveeeMoney

Taglist time! ❤

Also, I love the idea and from fic from both @jellyfishmoon97 and @not-weirdoshrek and a new addition that I'm super happy I bumped into @alilobsessive.

@holysoulsweets @sh4rk-k1d @sillysealsies @loomspuddle @cantfindmelol @alwaysholymilkshake @leitor-sonolento @randomlyappearingartist @beyondblissxoxo @sirairi @yhin-gg @frankie-moon3 @welpthisisboring @yokesmam @bat1212 @enchantingarcadecreation @twismare @delias-stuff @ladylupuscrow @ferchu0406 @c4xcocoa @cruzerforce4256 @anonymoushehehehe @godoreo22 @blerp-22 @facelessisnthere @sirenetheblogger @themightybee4067 @boredselkie @tiffyisme3760 @random4137 @midnightgrimoire @mybones537 @chaoticmoontimetravel @jsprien213 @crazycaoticsimp @elfollaburras3000 @czarinera @tiffyisme3760 @exactlynumberonekryptonite @gwyneveire @k-anaru @a-lurking-fae @nxdxsworld @ryuushou

I think that's everyone who wanted to be tagged, I hope I didn't spell anyone's name wrong and tag the wrong person.

[gothcsz]

I bet you already know what I’m about to say. I really wish you’d write a fic about Marcus Acacius eating pussy. Bonus points if he’s wearing his ring and uses that hand to please you. Extra aura points if you’re his wifey. Modern/canon time. Whichever. 😁🤭

Flesh & Gold | Marcus Acacius x Black F!Reader | ~1.8k wc | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Tags: oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, size kink kinda, secret fling with the general, his ring makes an appearance, not historically accurate we're just vibing here, a smidge of possessive!marcus, reader is a black woman, has curly hair, and is able bodied, any typos/grammar mistakes are of my own doing and i apologize in advance, if i missed any other tags pls let me know okay, thanks!

A/N: feliz cumpleaños primita! 🥂 this one is specifically for you and i hope you enjoy it! thank you for always supporting the feral musings that plague me and for being an amazing friend 🖤 this is the same pairing from this lovely moodboard... i couldn't help myself 🏹

The invitation had come by way of a sealed scroll, delivered just before the sun set.

You had expected it the moment he wheeled through the streets in a decorated chariot, the roar of the crowd so thunderous it seemed to shake the very stones beneath your feet.

The banquet that followed the fights had been routine, its opulence familiar. You’ve lingered in Rome longer than any other city or village, drawn by the wealth, the beauty, the intoxicating danger of slipping into the arms of a man as powerful as him.

You had seen the hunger in his gaze long before his lips ever formed your name. How he traced the shimmer of oil on your skin, your hips beckoning his attention beneath the rich gossamer fabric.

You effected him deeply, much to his dismay, grip tightening around his goblet whenever you locked eyes. A silent promise in the look you shared.

You were summoned to his home under the guise of performing for a private gathering, a small dinner shared with a few senators. But as you stepped into the lavish cubiculum, purposely draped in expensive fabric, it became clear that you were never meant for an audience of many.

The chamber was dimly lit, the warm glow of oil lamps flickering against frescoed walls, the scent of myrrh and clove thick in the air.

A half-emptied tray of honeyed dates sat abandoned on a low table near the lectus, its decadence forgotten in the wake of something far more intoxicating.

You turned just as the heavy door groaned shut behind you, sealing you within his den.

Acacius stood before it, still in his white and gold ceremonial robes, his presence alone filling the space. Big-shouldered and imposing.

The golden light caressed the hard planes of his face, tracing the scars that cut across his cheek and strong nose, the slight furrow of his brow—an expression you had come to know well.

A slow, knowing smile curved your lips as you took a step forward, the skirt of your two piece ensemble shifting with your movement, the golden body chain adorning your midriff catching the light, twinkling with every breath. 

Your hair had been swept up into a high bun (minus the few strands that framed your face), exposing the line of your throat, the delicate layering of gold and bejeweled necklaces resting against your bronze skin.

Your earrings swayed as you moved, sounding like wind chimes in the summer breeze, every piece of you an adornment—an invitation.

He took you in, his gaze darkening, lingering at how your exposed midriff gleamed beneath lamplight.

“Where are your senators, General?” you questioned with a teasing lilt, tipping your chin in challenge. “Am I to dance for ghosts?”

His mouth twitched in amusement, but his eyes remained fixed upon you like a predator assessing its prize. Slowly, deliberately, he removed his bracers, then unclipped the heavier red cape, setting each article aside with the practiced ease of a man who had undressed for war a thousand times. 

“I did not invite them,” he admitted, his voice a low rasp, now standing before you only in the white tunic that lied beneath the formal wear.

A shiver slithered down your spine. Your confidence did little to protect you from the intensity of his stare, from the way he stepped toward you, unburdened now by armor or pretense.

You let him come.

His hands found your waist, skin ablaze as his roughed and calloused touch made contact, palms mapping the curve of your hips.

A slow exhale left him as he traced the golden links, admiring how they dipped with the natural swell of your body. His hands cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing and teasing your stiffened nipples.

“You are a temptress,” he murmured, leaning in, breath tantalizing against the shell of your ear. “Every man watches you, but none dare touch. I would cut them down where they stand.” Each word rolled over you like the slow pour of honey.

You managed a smug grin, though your breath caught when his lips found the column of your throat, coarse hairs of his beard grazing the sensitive skin. “At ease Acacius. So possessive.” 

He hummed against your warmth, the sound deep, reverberating through you like the low growl of a lion. His lips and teeth traced a path down the curve of your neck, lingering, tasting, claiming.

Your eyes fluttered shut as pleasure stole through you, your fingers finding purchase on the thick cords of muscle of his biceps beneath his tunic. The tickle of his beard, the scent of wine and leather clinging to him, the sheer size of his broader frame against yours—it was enough to make you sigh, melting into him as your inhibitions lowered.

He lifted you with ease, his competent strength effortless as he carried you to the bed, its frame carved from ivory, sheets a cream color. He laid you upon it, the fabric cool against your heated being, and he stood above you for a moment, consuming you with his eyes.

“I have thought of this often,” he admitted, voice slathered with desire as he leaned down to kiss the swells of your tits, beginning his descent. “Dreamed of tasting you again.”

What an obscene act, one that was practically unheard of—that was until you found yourself beneath the General’s touch, claimed within the sanctum of his bed.

His hands slipped beneath the deep slit of your skirt, knuckles dragging against the fevered skin of your thighs as he bared you inch by inch, removing the garment that covered the gift between your thighs.

You shivered, nerves thrumming like the strings of a lyre as his fingers traced a languid path upward, teasing your pussy lips.

He exhaled when reaching your mound, nuzzling his curved nose at the stripe of hair there. You keened.

The heat of his breath washed over you before an open-mouthed kiss was pressed to your pussy. His action made your hips swivel, a sweet moan sung from the depths of your throat.

Marcus gripped your hips, thumbs stroking the dip where flesh met bone beneath the thick band of your skirt, keeping you still.

When his tongue breached you slit, he groaned as though he had discovered a treasure more valuable than the gold that lined his wrists or filled his pockets.

And then, he feasted.

His mouth was slow and indulgent. The slide of his wet muscle circling your clit was a prayer, the scrape of his facial hair a plea for divinity. He held you down firmly when you writhed, his hands moved to grip the meaty, soft flesh of your thighs, forcing you to take what he gave.

The lewd cunnilingus had pleasure striking your body like a lightning bolt, unraveling you with each intentional stroke and kiss.

The melody of your jewelry danced with every shake of your form, echoing off the stone walls, mixing with your cries of pleasure—a symphony of passion, a testament to your shared lust.

Your fingers tangled in his greying brown curls, tugging desperately, needy, and he growled in response, the tremor of it sending a shock through your very core.

“Marcus—” His intimate name left your lips like an invocation, a whispered surrender.

He grunted, the sound bordering another snarl, and just as you thought he would grant you your orgasm—he withdrew, his mouth parting from you with agonizing slowness.

A protest nearly fell from your lips before you felt something cool against your skin.

His ring.

A thick band of gold with an emerald cut into the shape of a ziggurat. He traced it along the inside of your thigh, the smooth metal a stark contrast to the heat pulsing at your pussy.

He slid his ring-clad knuckle between your folds, the cold press of gold against spit slicked, sensitive flesh sending a quiver through you. And then, he sunk two stocky fingers into the mouth of your cunt—deep, firm, the tip of his tongue resting against your swollen, pert clit as he moved.

The sensation was intoxicating. You clenched around his digits, hips arching, chasing the rapture only he could give you. He chuckled, low and dark, his breath fanning against your sex.

“You take my touch so beautifully,” he rasped, curling his fingers inside you, angling just right. Your pussy squelched and weeped for more. “As if you were made for it.”

Your moaned loudly, uncaring if anyone could hear you. Acacius knew how to command your body, the skill honed from his title. You were like a beautiful string puppet meant only for his entertainment and pleasure.

He worked you open with a measured pace, teasing you to the edge before retreating, only to start again.

Pleasure coiled, unbearable, exquisite. And when he bent his head once more, his tongue lapping with more ardor at your clit before he sucked roughly, the sensation sent you careening into bliss.

Your body bowed off the bed, a sharp cry piercing the air, your orgasm crashing over you like a breaking wave.

And still, he did not stop.

He licked, sucked, kissed, and drank from you as though he had been starved for years, only now having been given leave to taste the heavens.

His fingers still moved in slow, deep thrusts, prolonging your bliss until you were entirely pliant beneath him. 

Over and over he made you fall apart, soaking his hand as if cleansing it of the blood it had long been stained with.

When your body could take no more, when your limbs quaked and your breath stuttered, sweat built to a sheen at your skin, he finally lifted his head.

Acacius’s lips and chin were wet with your essence, expression darkened in satisfaction, curls in his hair mussed by your affections. He dragged his mouth up your body, once more tracing the curve of your hip, your stomach, licking at the golden links of your body chain until he was at the valley of your breasts, biting down the supple flesh.

“Taste yourself on my tongue.” He uttered before capturing your lips in a kiss that stole the last breath from your lungs.

And you did, kissing him languidly, taking your time to trace the inside of his mouth with your tongue, flitting over his teeth, tasting your tanginess and enjoying the feeling of his large, strong figure pressed against yours.

Only then did he withdraw, brown eyes hazed over with lust, stroking your cheek affectionately.

He then lifted his hand to his lips, the emerald on his ring catching the flames of the flickering lamps. He met your eyes as his pink tongue swept out to taste you from the very accessory that marked him as Rome’s greatest conqueror.

“I should not keep you here,” Acacius vocalized gruffly, trailing his palms up and down the length of your enchanting body, eyes appreciating, showing no sign of letting go. “But I cannot bear to let you leave.”

Your lips tugged into a sultry smile, your heart still pounding in your chest, brain fogged with simply... him. “Then do not.”

[goodkushnalchohol]

OVERLY ENTHUSIASTIC ‧₊˚ੈ joaquin torres x fem!reader. fluff / suggestive? / you’re an avenger / after endgame / sam and bucky trio / intentional use of lowercase / not proofread

the blip wasn’t good for anyone really, except joaquin torres. yeah, of course he lost some friends and family but the outcome of it was pretty good for him. he became lieutenant in the air force, befriended sam wilson, and got awfully close to being the falcon - yet sam wouldn’t admit it.

even since before the snap, he had deeply admired the avengers, which included sam, bucky, and you, but he would never tell his friends which person he admired more.

you briefly met once in the compound for sam’s birthday party and he was surprisingly shocked at your skill in playing poker. that evening he left with an ache in his stomach and a yearn in his heart for a woman he didn’t even talk to. he threw silent curses at wanda in his head for keeping you at her side the whole night.

and though he kept silent about it to avoid getting laughed at by sam, his friend could tell he had taken a liking towards you - his stares were quite obvious.

the second time he saw you was at your very own promotion ceremony, you had been given the spot of being the presidents first man in the air, meaning you were sent on high risk air missions at the presidents command. which took a lot of work to accomplish, and was one of the many reasons why joaquin took an interest in you.

in his head you were the perfect pair. two highly trained pilots both at high ranks in the air force, you were practically made for each other. and when sam called you in to help with a mission that seemed too big for just captain america and the falcon, he realised there was so much more to you beneath your skin.

it was eight am on the dot when you arrived in the compound, the sun was shining brightly down on you as you walked, the sound of your boots hitting the pavement echoed with each step. right now, in your eyes, this was a simple mission sam needed help on - nothing extraordinary.

but you were blissfully unaware of who watched you take your strides from the upper levels of the building.

‘oh my god there she is! she’s getting so close i’m so nerv-‘

joaquin’s face was pressed to the glass wall of the common area, where he eagerly watched as you neared the entrance of the building. ‘she’s gonna see you if you keep staring like that, and that won’t be a good real first impression.’ sam spoke with humour in his tone, clearly teasing the boy.

‘how is she gonna see me if im all the way up here huh?’

‘you do know she was an avenger right? she can more than likely sense someone staring at her, that someone being you.” sam poked a finger in the tan man’s chest, who had finally pulled away from the window and approached sam.

he scoffed at sam, and felt a pang of anxiety in his chest when his friend uttered those words. ‘well jokes on you, because i was a stealth pilot!’ he said, gesturing to the air force logo on his shirt with a smirk

‘so was she.’

sam patted his friend on the back, laughing as he did so. ‘for someone so skilled in tech, you are so dumb with words.’

the door to the room buzzed as it opened, allowing your entrances to be known. your eyes immediately found sam’s, the two of you breaking into giddy grins after in so long.

‘good morning cap.’ your voice was dangerously sly, sarcasm lacing your lips as you joked.

‘now don’t you dare start talking to me like a 1960s war veteran.’

you both laughed, bringing each other into tight hugs once you finally reached one another. you pulled away, eyes meeting with another young man behind sam. you smiled cheekily, watching as the he stumbled over his introduction.

‘good morning lieutenant or um - ma’am - y/n, it’s uh, nice to meet you officially.’ he gave an awkward grin as he shook your hand, glancing at sam briefly with embarrassment in his eyes.

‘ugh don’t start with that official bullshit, call me y/n.’

sam chuckled at his teammate, finding his new behaviour funny. ‘y/n i want you to meet my newest recruit, joaquin torres.’ he couldn’t have been much younger than you, maybe a year or so behind you in flight training.

you smiled at the fondness in his eyes, remembering how he once introduced you to bucky and steve the same way before the blip, back then you were the new recruit, who received all the snarky jokes and comments.

‘looks like you’ve finally passed on the bird suit, i am so not gonna miss red wing.

the two men shook their heads laughing, well aware of your feelings around the drone. ‘uh no way, i still got him on my new suit, you’re never getting rid of him. i never understood why you and nat don’t like him.’

you raised your hands in mock defence, chucking to yourself. ‘it’s like an insect following you around in fights, it’s annoying.’ joaquin and sam exchanged glances, tutting at your words. ‘hey i love red wing, just so you know.’ joaquin butted in, that boy really wanted you like him, but he can’t stand red wing slander.

‘suck up.’

his head spun to face you, a hurt expression etched on his features. ‘alright alright, why don’t we go to my office and review the mission.’ sam waved his hand dismissively, brushing off your comment towards joaquin.

‘can’t have you two having a brawl before we even get started.’

after you gathered in sam’s office to discuss the missions rules, actions and procedures, you eventually noticed how skilled joaquin was in his work, and how he looked more than happy to obey sam’s orders. he seemed to be the perfect fit for sam since bucky went askew to become congressman, maybe - just maybe, you could stick around to fill the space you were previously in.

you were currently laid on the large leather couch in the room, and was researching more about adamantium when sam suddenly left, claimed he had samples he needed to check on, leaving you and joaquin alone in his office.

the silence was peaceful, and you were content to work alone, joaquin on the other hand, was not. the poor man who was given the task of getting more information on the buyer was clawing his eyeballs out as he stared at his computer screen. he wanted to talk to you so badly, but he was just so nervous of seeming uncool that he didn’t know what to say.

luckily for him, you were the one who broke the silence.

‘i saw you staring at me from the window by the way, i couldn’t tell if you wanted me to notice or not.’ he groaned into his hands with embarrassment, sam was right. as always.

you peered at him from the top of your computer, laughing at his weird antics. ‘i’m sorry, i didn’t want to come off as annoying and i think your really cool - because you were an avenger and stuff -‘ not for any other reason. ‘and i was eager to meet you.’

a small smile broke out on your face from his sheepish confession, and you put your computer to the side. you soon found yourself in a deep conversation about the avengers, talking about who you thought was the strongest or funniest or overall best.

‘no way you think tony was the coolest! it’s obviously steve!’

‘absolutely not. you’re only saying that because you’re captain americas sidekick, iron man is way cooler than cap and tony is also cooler than steve. there’s no denying it!’

your efforts to defend tony went through deaf ears as joaquin explained why steve was the best choice. ‘let’s just agree to disagree, alright?’ the man finally stopped his endless rant about steve rogers and eventually agreed to finish.

he sighed softly, pondering more questions to ask you. ‘oh! who actually makes the best jokes. 3..2..1..go!’

‘thor!’

‘thor!’

you jumped up in joy as you finally agreed on something, the both of you laughing as you simultaneously said your answers. the atmosphere was radiant now, with the two of you comfortably talking about this random topic.

‘y’know you’re actually a pretty funny guy, even though i’ve only known you a couple hours.’ you said quietly, as you stared at his side profile. he was also pretty handsome too, but you weren’t gonna tell him that. not yet anyway.

joaquin felt his ego inflate at your words, and the tips of his ears redden, and he only prayed you didn’t notice it. he left his spot at the desk a while ago and was now sat beside you on the couch, with your laptop forgotten about on the coffee table.

you two had also gotten closer with all the jumping and moving about you did, so now you’re placed directly infront of him with your hands on his knees which were almost tucked to his chest.

‘well you’re actually better than what everyone made you out to be.’ he admitted yet still in a taunting tone.

you raised a brow at his comment, curious about how others talk about you. ‘oh? how so?’ your response came out slowly, questioning his words.

he shook his head bashfully, while thinking about what to say. ‘i don’t know how to say it, i guess you’re just.. perfect.’ you laughed at his wording, trying to bring your hopes back down because there was no way he thought that highly of you.

‘you really think so?’

he hadn’t realised the true meaning behind his sentence until you said that, but he did infact mean it. he really did think you were perfect. his breath caught in his throat as he looked in your eyes, nodding as a reply. he really hoped you didn’t notice his face heating up.

‘yeah.’

he reached out to push a strand of your hair behind your ear, lightly caressing your jaw as he did so. the two of you leaned in, getting closer as you nearly met in the middle. he was right there, if either of you moved an inch you would -

‘cmon guys, we gotta head to this base to get some samples and away from all distractions’ sam bursted through the door, gathering his bag and suit as he walked in. he was loud and authoritative, and real glad he put a stop to whatever you were about to do.

you leapt from your seat on the couch, slightly embarrassed at what you were doing. ‘i’ll get my gear from my car and meet you guys in the parking lot.’

once you left the room and left the two men in silence, they both stared at each other in annoyance and disbelief.

‘man i cannot believe you did that.’

‘i can’t believe you did that! i was so close!’ joaquin threw his hands in the air, bothered by his friend’s interruption. sam shook his head at the dark haired man, acting like a single father trying to parent his teenager.

‘is this why you were overly enthusiastic about her joining us?’

©veluques - pls do not copy/post my works on any other platforms!!

[morganalefae]

it actually means so much to me that tai and shauna seem to hold the most anger towards coach ben. they're the most willing to believe that he burned the cabin down not because they truly think he did it, but because of the way he abandoned them and looked down on them.

tai and shauna were the only ones who took shauna's pregnancy seriously- or at least understood the reality of it. partially because tai was the first to know, she helped shauna with the attempted abortion, she was the first that shauna confided in. they treat the pregnancy with much more gravity than the other characters, because they know how fucking dangerous and terrifying it is for shauna, to give birth in the wilderness with no medical care, no doctors, a rapidly dwindling food supply.

tai and shauna (and nat) are also the ones who struggle the most after eating jackie. tai because her other self took over in that moment, so on some level she has no idea what she's done until afterwards. shauna because they ate jackie, her best friend, the person she loved, hated, and whose death she caused.

for coach ben to look down on them, treat them like uncontrollable monsters who would turn on him and eat him next, to talk as if he's better than them for abstaining... yeah. i can see why tai and shauna would be angry. does he think they wanted this? to be driven to this? does he think they liked it? and the fact that, on some level, they did like it, they dont feel as bad as they probably should.... coach ben, like jackie, is the voice of judgement that they absolutely dont need. what right does he have to judge them?

because, coming back to shauna's pregnancy, coach ben may have had no clue what to do for her, or been able to help in any way, but he was the only adult figure that they had. to him, they didnt listen to him anymore, they didnt see him as an authority figure or value his opinion, but the yellowjackets still care about him, looking to him for guidance and reassurance. theyre still just kids. scared, terrified, unsure kids, one of whom is about to go through an incredibly traumatic birth, so they look to coach for something, anything... and he walks away. to the only room with a real bed, which (in my opinion) he could have offered to shauna during her last few months of pregnancy. instead, ben separates himself from the yellowjackets almost completely. shauna gives birth with her only help being teenagers who have no idea what theyre doing, but at least theyre doing something.

its easy for tai and shauna to hate coach ben. to blame him for the fire. him disappearing right when javi dies and they eat him is obviously no coincidence. and his obvious disgust, his morally superior attitude, the fact that he didnt care enough to even try and help shauna when she was in labour, and now javi's death? why wouldn't he try and kill them? why wouldnt he try and take them all out in one go? they're monsters. thats what he thinks anyway.

i dont believe coach ben set the fire anymore. i dont believe tai did either, but thats an entirely different post. his speech in 3e04 was moving, but it was tai and shauna who really made me feel their anger, their betrayal. he didnt just fail them, he judged them, he abandoned them and then he tried to kill them.

[theseinfernalangels]

Fragile — Sawyer Henrick

Synopsis: Mender!Reader comes back from RSC worse off than the rest of your squad. Sawyer is heartbroken and takes care of you.

A/N: I pumped this one out surprisingly fast! I may post my OC reference sheet after this for more context, since there are references to characters you haven’t met yet, such as Reader’s dragon, Cridhe, and Eden (Liam’s girl!). We’ll see how it turns out! I might even do a part two for this hehe.

Warning for mentions of blood, injuries, insecurities, and anxiety. Oh, yeah; don’t forget the dragon telepathy.

Sawyer knew something was up when you didn’t meet him outside the Gathering Hall. 

It wasn’t like you to be late for…Well, anything, much less seeing him. He certainly wasn’t an anxious person, but it made his fingers twitch with nervousness when he didn’t spot your cautious frame lingering close to the sides of the hall. He waited anyway. He’d always wait for you.

At the ten-minute mark, his thoughts began to race. He could understand if you stayed behind for a word with one of your professors – you were a genius, anyway. Perhaps you could have gone off-track to help another cadet in need of extra notes. That was just in your nature (even though Sawyer and Ridoc had tried to convince you to charge a couple coins for it – you’d be swimming in gold by now). Maybe you were in the infirmary with your friend…Eden, was it? Emily? He could barely remember.

But no. Another fifteen minutes slowly ticked by, and his reasonable side began to veer off a little. Maybe you’d been injured somehow. Maybe the other cadets had finally taken advantage of your anxious, gentle nature and were in the middle of ganging up on you. Maybe they’d finally gotten you – the Marked cadets who weren’t too fond of you for what your parents, Navarrian military legends, had done to them.

He heard Sliseag’s chiding voice resound in the back of his mind. Easy there, Ashling, he soothed. Do not worry too much. She is exactly where she is meant to be.

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. I would beg to differ, he replied, trying to calm his racing heart. If she was in the right place, I wouldn’t be talking to you right now.

The dragon snorted. Really, now? he mused. Look up.

Sawyer had just turned, his palms sweaty, when he saw a figure moving sluggishly in his peripherals. He squinted, then froze, the sight making his blood run cold.

You finally showed up…But you looked awful.

Damaged was the best word to describe it. Your hair was messy, your bangs falling in your face in a way it only looked after an intense flight. One of your eyes was swollen shut, and the rest of your face was battered. Your bottom lip was split and bleeding, the blood oozing out sluggishly and staining your chin crimson. That was only your face; the rest of your body was probably just as bruised and injured.

Go, he heard Sliseag urge. Go to her now. She needs you, Ashling.

He broke out of his trance; he couldn’t run fast enough to get to you, his legs moving on what felt like autopilot. Gods. What did they do to you?

You held up a hand when he neared you. “I’m fine,” you whispered hoarsely. “I…It looks worse than it feels.”

Sliseag made a noise of disapproval in his mind. I doubt that.

Sawyer, in that moment, felt almost scared to touch you, as if putting his fingers anywhere would shatter you like glass.

Finally, he found his voice. “What the hell happened to you?” he murmured, wincing at how sick he sounded. His eyes traced your face; you still looked gorgeous as ever, but just looking at your good eye made his heart wrench.

“We,” you began, faltering as you fell forward a bit. Sawyer caught you with ease, splaying a hand on your back as you leaned into him. “We had RSC. I…I didn’t expect for it to be so…awful.”

You looked down, and Sawyer made a soft sound of protest as he lifted your chin back up to face his. Skies above, he thought. He’d seen you injured before, obviously – there was no avoiding that at Basgiath. But this…

“Oh, darling,” he murmured, ghosting a kiss on your forehead. “I’m so sorry. You…You haven’t been to the infirmary yet?”

You shook your head. “No. I saw a clock and remembered we agreed to meet up. Wanted to see you first.”

Oh, he thought. Damn you, you sweet, sweet girl. Damn you and your loveliness. 

He sighed quietly, glancing at the sky. It was getting close to dusk, which meant that the infirmary was probably winding down for the day. His gaze flitted back down to your trembling form, his heart aching.

“Do you want to go?” he asked, hoping he didn’t sound pushy. “I’m sure your friend is still there; she’d be willing–”

His voice trailed off when you vehemently shook your head. “No,” you said softly. “Not now. Can we…Can we just go to yours?”

At that moment, with you looking up at him hopefully, your good eye wide but exhausted, Sawyer would have given you just about anything. 

He nodded, perhaps a little too hard. “Of course, darling. Just hold on to me. I don’t trust your legs right now.”

The pained smile you gave him twists his heart. “I don’t, either.”

It took a little while, but the two of you finally made it to his dorm in relative silence, save for the pained gasps and whimpers that occasionally fell from your swollen lips. The whole time, Sawyer was clenching his teeth. It didn’t matter that RSC was something that happened to everyone – not even his injuries hadn’t looked this rough.

He sat you down gently on his bed. He didn’t want to leave you, not when you looked that beat up, but he pushed that aside to grab the little box of medical supplies you kept in his room for when he was beat up after sparring. If you weren’t huddled beside him looking more fragile than he’d ever seen you, he would have made a joke about it.

You’d already removed your jacket and shirt, leaving your torso bare save for the bindings you always wore. Sawyer relaxed for a moment before he took note of your ribs, black and blue bruising rippling up both sides. Save for that, though, and other bruising and – Gods forbid, handprints – you honestly didn’t look too terrible.

He brushed your bangs away from your face, tilting your chin up so he could assess the damage. “Have you tried mending yourself?”

You sighed, sounding almost disappointed in yourself. “No. I’ve never tried that, but it won’t work, anyway. I tried to mend Anya’s arm after it got dislocated, but it didn’t work. I’m either terrible with my signet, or the injury was too bad, or–”

He cut you off before you could delve deeper into self-doubt. “No,” he assured you, taking a wet rag and wiping the blood on your chin. “They tampered with your water. It’s supposed to dull your signet and cut you off from your dragon to feel more realistic.”

Your lips formed an O in realization. “So that’s why I couldn’t feel Cridhe,” you mumbled, hissing in pain once he actually touched your lip. “I got worried there for a while.”

He nodded, ducking his head lower to check the area around your neck. There was an angry red line around your throat; someone had tried to choke you, he assumed. Bastard.

“I know,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. “When they took me, the serum didn’t wear off for about a day. I thought Sliseag randomly chose to hate me or something.”

The aforementioned scoffed softly. As if, Ashling, he muttered. I didn’t choose you just to leave you behind.

The words warmed Sawyer’s heart long enough that your silence didn’t bother him for the next few minutes while he looked you over.

He only paused when you spoke softly, your voice faint. “I…think I have a concussion,” you mumble. “The light hurts, and I’m dizzy.”

A tight-lipped smile fought its way onto Sawyer’s face. “Trust you to diagnose yourself barely an hour after it happens.”

You don’t respond, prompting Sawyer to lean back up and look into your eyes. Sure enough, your pupils were unfocused and exhausted. Smart girl.

He opened his mouth to make another little quip, only for it to die on his tongue once you leaned into his side.

“Tired?” he prompted you gently. A soft hum from you confirmed his suspicions, and he hesitated for a moment before relenting. He could carry you to Nolan or a healer in the morning, after you slept the night away.

He looked away for a moment, and you had somehow managed to snag a random shirt off his floor and slip it on. His eyes softened, and he reached over to help you out of your pants and under his covers. You looked so…unusually small in his bed, curled in on yourself like a flower without the sun to warm it. He didn’t even bother to change out of his uniform, opting to kick off his boots and leave himself in his undershirt as he settled next to you. You slowly unfurled from your tense position and rested your head on his chest. Pure bliss.

You both lay there in silence for what seemed like hours before Sawyer found his voice again, feeling weirdly sentimental. “I’m gonna go out on a limb and assume you don’t want to talk about it.”

Your silence was an answer enough.

“Thought so,” he murmured. “That’s okay. We don’t have to. Just…I hope you know that I’ll never let that happen to you when the time comes. Whoever it was, they’d have to kill me first to get to you.”

More silence from you. Sawyer thought for a moment that you fell asleep, but his eyes popped back open once he heard your weary voice.

“Sawyer?”

“Yes, darling?”

A beat. Two beats.

“Thank you for this. I didn’t want to be anywhere besides here.”

…You don’t have to thank me, he thinks, a pained smile tugging at his mouth. I’d do anything and more for you, anyway.

[jimxnslight]

The Odd One Out

Summary: When BigHit faces financial struggles, the unthinkable happens: a girl is added to BTS. For the seven members, the change is unsettling, especially for Namjoon, who doubts her place among them. But for Y/N… it's a chance to finally be seen.

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Genre: idol au

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: I randomly got the urge to write but wasn’t really feeling any of my wips at the moment, so tell me why I opened a new doc and then 3 hours later this appeared? Like damn, I’m not used to this kind of motivation lmao

“This is a joke, right?”

A heavy silence followed Namjoon’s words, the band’s leader the only one with the guts to voice his mind. But really, someone had to point out how ridiculous the plan being proposed to them was. 

“Now I know it’s not very traditional-”

“It’s not breaking tradition that we’re concerned with,” he countered instantly, “it’s the fact that you’re proposing to bring a girl into the group.”

“I think we all just want to know where this is coming from,” Hoseok offered, inquisitive eyes traveling from Namjoon to their longtime friend and producer now sitting before them. 

Beomgyu sighed, taking in the small recording studio packed with the bright and young members of Bangtan. He had half a mind to call Sihyuk and give him hell for making him be the one to propose the solution they’d spent months coming up with. It was more than clear that the members weren’t on board with the plan, some outright rejecting it while others reluctant, which was a problem because only Beomgyu knew that they didn’t really have a choice in the matter. 

“Look,” Beomgyu raised his hands in surrender, not wanting this to fester into something dramatic, “I get it. The thought of someone being added into the group this late is a bit wild, especially that someone being a girl, but that’s exactly why we’re doing it.”

“So it’s a move for attention?” Yoongi commented, unimpressed. A single brow disappeared behind his light grey hair as he leaned back into the small sofa, arms crossing over his chest. Beomgyu could only purse his lips.

“The company’s been facing a lot of financial issues, especially ever since the girl group prior to your debut disbanded. They had hoped that perhaps your last album could have done well enough to keep us afloat until your popularity increases, but even I knew that was a long shot.”

“Then we’ll make a better album,” Namjoon said, determination making his voice firm, but Beomgyu shook his head.

“You guys don’t get it, do you?” 

The boys all gave Beomgyu a curious look, heads tilting and murmurs rippling amongst themselves. Beomgyu watched them all, feeling sympathy for the boys that deserved so much better.

“The Big Three companies have been buying up slots in awards shows and TV programs. They’ve been booking interviews everywhere - anywhere they can get their hands on. There are no places for us to market your group, nothing we can buy up because BigHit has no money. We’re lucky enough that the sales you guys make cover the production costs and some debts, which is way more than what we anticipated.”

He leaned forward in his chair, fidgeting with a stray pen, “you guys have made so many songs that should have been absolute hits, but they never did. Why? Because they can’t gain that kind of trajectory in a company so small. The only realistic thing to expect is to gradually gain popularity - but that takes time. Time we don’t have considering the fact that BigHit is sinking.”

The room was silent, everyone processing the weight of the situation. It made sense, as much as the boys hated to admit it, they were tired of putting all their blood, sweat, and tears into making their albums, only for them to gain minimal traction. They tended to put the blame on themselves most of the time, feeling as though they weren’t good enough, but Beomgyu knew the truth. Had they been in a bigger company, their songs would have been sellouts.  

“Come on, talk to me. You guys are my friends first, and I don’t want you to feel like we’re forcing a horrible decision on you,” Beomgyu begged, especially taking note of how quiet the younger members had been this entire time. 

He was relieved when Jimin sat forward on the couch, running a hand through his black hair slowly, “it’s just… this is weird. Not only for us, but what about the girl too? I can’t imagine she would feel comfortable being in a group with seven guys.”

“And doesn’t this decision seem a bit… permanent? Why not do something more temporary?” Yoongi piped in. 

Taehyung laughed, shaking his light brown hair, “what? Like dating rumours?”

Seokjin grimaced, as though the idea left a bad taste in his mouth. 

“Things like this tend to get a bigger reaction when the consequences are more permanent, or at least that’s what I was told,” Beomgyu offered. He was only a producer after all, most of the hard work had been done by the management. 

“And to answer Jimin’s question… well, the girl has already signed the contract, so she must be fine with it.”

That had all the boys’ heads snapping to Beomgyu.

“She’s already been picked out?” Jungkook asked, doe eyes wide in surprise. They widened even more when Beomgyu nodded, causing a frenzy amongst the boys. 

“You wanna meet her?” He asked with a relieved smile, glad to be out of the danger zone. 

Taehyung was the first to jump from his place on the couch, his leg accidentally bumping into Jungkook who had been sitting on the floor at his feet. He mumbled something in annoyance as his dark brown hair was pushed into his eyes.

“Okay, hold on.” Beomgyu’s words made the boys pause, “technically you’re not supposed to meet her until next week, but she told me she’ll be in the studio to record something for your next album today so I don’t think it’ll hurt to pay her a small visit.”

“You’ve met her already?” Hoseok asked, his tone slightly surprised. So much seemed to have changed in the span of 20 minutes. 

Beomgyu nodded, ushering everyone out of the recording studio to begin their journey to the one down the hall. Taehyung was right behind him, a boxy grin gracing his features. 

“So if you’ve met her, what’s she like?”

He seemed to have been the only one excited by the odd plan from the start, much less skeptical compared to his bandmates. But then again, Beomgyu wasn’t surprised. Taehyung seemed to have a natural liking for anything unusual. 

The other boys didn’t seem to share his enthusiasm, but he could see the hints of curiosity in their gazes. Even Namjoon trudged behind everyone reluctantly, though notably still skeptical of the plan. 

Once they had reached the door, Beomgyu knocked on it twice and then turned around to give them a look. 

“Regardless of your feelings towards this situation, let’s not try to overwhelm her, alright?” He said, his gaze then straying to Taehyung, “she’s a nice girl and she doesn’t deserve to be treated badly.”

Beomgyu didn’t actually believe any of the boys would be rude, he knew them better than that. He just hoped they also understood how nerve-wracking this would be for you, because he hadn’t lied, you really were a nice girl. 

The door behind him opened to reveal another producer.

“Alright then, let’s meet your new member.”

-

-

-

“God, you have no idea how much I’m enjoying this right now.”

Your head tilted in question at the comment, hands coming up to steady the headphones encasing your ears. This was probably your third hour in the recording booth, Hyowon seeming to want to make sure your voice didn’t work before he let you off.

“You enjoy getting rid of my voice?” You asked with an amused smile, the comment making him shake his head with a laugh.

“No, no, that’s not it, I swear. It’s just your vocals,” he explained, “I’m sure you already know we don’t get a lot of high notes around here - I mean don’t get me wrong, Jimin and Seokjin do an incredible job, but there’s nothing like a female high note.”

“I’m assuming you’re a fan of high notes?” You asked, almost bursting into laughter when he nodded instantly. 

“You should ask the guys, they’re sick of me telling them to sing one every two minutes- oh my god,” he exclaimed suddenly, a thought evidently coming to him, “please tell me you can do a whistle.”

You chuckled shyly, a bit embarrassed by your answer, “my vocal coach doesn’t want me to do it much until I get the proper technique down, but I’ve done it a few times.”

“Oh, Y/N. You’re gonna get so sick of me.”

You laughed, beginning to take a liking to Hyowon. It was nice to know there would be at least one person so easygoing and friendly in this company. It was going to make these next few months a lot easier if the other members decided they didn’t like you.

You knew technically it didn’t matter, but that thought had been playing around in your mind a lot lately. The entire situation was weird, even you had to admit, but the moment BigHit had given you a call and proposed the idea, you knew you’d have to be crazy to turn something like this down, especially considering how difficult it’s been trying to stay afloat as a solo artist from a small company.

Unlike what the company had in mind, however, you weren’t planning on staying in BTS forever. Your plan was to just join the group for about a year, ensure your name got out there while you and BTS grew in popularity, and then announce your disbandment from the group with a heartfelt goodbye. Rest assured if any of the guys weren’t a fan of your presence, they would only have to hold out for a few months.

Still, the people pleaser in you was hoping they didn’t hate you immediately. 

“Okay, I think that just about wraps up-”

A knock suddenly sounded from the recording studio’s door, causing the two of you to eye it curiously. 

“I thought there was still 20 minutes left until my fried chicken came, it must have come early…” Hyowon muttered, getting up from his seat to get to the door. 

You slid the headphones off your head with a relieved sigh, satisfied with the work you put in today, though your mind was already racing with ways to improve for next time. You let them whirl as you strolled out of the recording booth and gently placed the headphones back on the table. But when you turned around, you were surprised to find a number of other men in the room.

Not just any men too, but your soon-to-be bandmates. 

And all their eyes were trained on you, making your own widen. 

You’d technically seen them all in photos from the research you’d conducted after BigHit’s call, but those didn’t seem to do them justice at all. They didn’t capture the tender look in Yoongi’s eyes, or the pretty accents in Hoseok’s features. Jin, who you had already thought looked straight out of a k-drama, somehow looked even better in real life, while Namjoon’s aura seemed to exude the feel of a leader. Even though the rest were sort of hidden behind the older members, you could tell they were all attractive; it was so intimidating.

Before you could say anything - or sprint out the door like you really wanted to do right now - you caught sight of Beomgyu in the lineup of men, a friendly smile gracing his lips as he made his way to your side. 

“Hey guys,” he greeted, clapping Hyowon on the back before placing a more gentle hand on your shoulder. It was difficult to meet his eyes when your gaze kept flickering wearily to the boys surrounding you, “we thought it would be nice to drop by and see how the recording was going.”

Hyowon leaned a casual arm on Beomgyu’s shoulder, a testament to their evolved friendship over the years.

“It’s going very well,” he answered, excitement radiating off him in waves, “the high notes in your next album are going to be incredible.”

A series of groans rose from a few of the boys, only two of the seven harbouring amused smirks. It took a moment for you to place their names: Jin and Jimin, Bangtan’s main visual and lead vocalist. 

The latter accidently caught your gaze, black hair and sharp jawline giving him an almost charismatic intensity. But before you could quickly look away, his face broke into a warm smile, soothing a few of your nerves instantly. 

At least one of them didn’t seem to hate you. 

“Well, then…” Beomgyu began, catching everyone’s attention, “Hyowon and I have a couple things we need to work on, so… um, we’ll be right here if you need us?”

Hyowon snickered at the awkwardness before Beomgyu grabbed his shirt and dragged him to the computer across the room, which of course wasn’t that far with how small the studio was. You still missed the comfort of his hand on your shoulder, now feeling very alone while facing people that may potentially hate your existence. 

Still, you had to make at least some effort, right?

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you offered, voice smaller than you meant for it to be. 

A series of greetings sounded from them, some softening at your tone, while others were unmoved. It was difficult to gauge their general feelings on your presence, which only seemed to make you more nervous. 

Taehyung broke off from the group to stand closer, a boxy smile aimed right at you. You tried not to, but even you couldn’t stop yourself from ogling his almost perfectly structured face and the tousled hair that fell so effortlessly across his forehead when he moved.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N,” he said, and you couldn’t help but smile shyly at his excitement. If you hadn’t been so timid, you might have noticed his lingering gaze on your features, “this is all so cool, isn’t it?”

You’d never really thought about it like that, your views on the situation being controlled entirely by your nerves up until now. But when he put it that way… you supposed he was right, it was kind of cool. 

“I guess so,” you admitted, slowly warming up to the idea. 

“I mean, seriously, this is so crazy!” He continued on, facing the other members,“it’s not everyday a group gets a new member three years in - and that too a girl! This is kinda uncharted territory, you know?”

“That’s what makes it a bit scary,” you admitted with a chuckle. You noticed Jimin’s eyes soften at your words and his lips part to say something, but before he could, Jungkook piped up from behind Seokjin’s broad shoulders.

“You wouldn’t happen to be Y/L/N Y/N, would you?” He asked, his tone almost as shy as yours. You honestly hadn’t even realised he was there, but now that you had, you took in his doe eyes and ruffled dark brown hair. He kept having to push the silky locks out of his eyes, a motion you found insanely distracting. 

You nodded mindlessly, distantly surprised that he knew your last name without offering it. 

“Oh. Cool,” he nodded. Then he noticed your questioning look and quickly rushed to explain, “I think I’ve, um, heard your name somewhere.”

Seokjin’s gaze narrowed as he looked back at the younger boy, “hey, wait. Isn’t that the artist Jungkook listens to like all the time-?”

“So what’s your position?” Jungkook interrupted quickly, a bright shade of pink engulfing the sides of his neck. 

You blinked at Jungkook’s sudden change of topic, though you didn’t miss the slight panic in his expression. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips, slightly amused by his reaction. Seokjin’s comment had not gone unnoticed by you; the fact that Jungkook liked your music was a comforting thought. 

“Vocalist,” you replied, deciding not to tease him over it, which elicited a look of relief on Jungkook’s face, “though Hyowon has said I’ll be doing so much harmonisation work with Seokjin and Jimin that it might as well be my actual position.”

Seokjin chuckled quietly, his plump lips spreading into a charming smile, though his gaze didn’t meet yours. In fact, you started to notice that he was keeping his gaze strictly on the other members even as you spoke. 

“Good, it’ll finally get him off our backs,” Yoongi muttered, revealing a much more laid back personality instead of the cold persona he seemed to emit on camera, “I’m a rapper and that man still tries to get me to put in a couple high notes.”

Hyowon turned from the mixing desk to face the group with an evidently offended huff, reminding you of the producers’ presence. 

“You all complain now, but just wait until you hear the final product. You’ll be thanking me.”

“Sure,” Yoongi deadpanned, turning to you once again, “can you rap?”

You tilted your head in thought. 

“I think I can hold my own if I had to, though it’s not really my style.”

“That’s fine, you’re one of us vocalists,” Taehyung waved his hand around dramatically, throwing a possessive arm around your shoulder as he eyed Yoongi, “no one wants to be one of the rappers anyway.”

“Weren’t you just yesterday begging Namjoon to let you on Cypher?” Jimin raised a brow.

“No.”

“Do you dance, Y/N?” Hoseok asked, interrupting the ridiculous conversation before it turned into a fight, though the way he leaned forward made it clear he was very interested in your answer. 

That question had you nervously rocking against your heels, a hesitant breath escaping your lips before you replied, “definitely not as good as you guys, but I’m ready to put in a ton of work to get better, I swear.”

Unlike the look of displeasure you expected, Hoseok nodded in your direction with a satisfied smile. It was a relief that he was willing to at least give you a chance before jumping to disdain. His gaze lingered as he scanned you from head to toe, assessing your potential with intensity.

“Hard work is a must,” Namjoon emphasised, the first time he’d spoken since walking into the room. Even though no one had been speaking, it felt as though a hush had washed over the group, a testament to the weight of his words as a leader. You’d been noticing Namjoon staring at you from the beginning, the look not exactly scorn, but not very inviting either. It made you squirm in your spot, doubt creeping into your thoughts, “being a soloist is pretty different from being in a group, which means you’ll have to put in a lot of hard work - it’s not going to be easy.”

You straightened, feeling as though you were being tested, “I understand completely. I know it won’t be easy, but I’m ready to put in the work. You don’t have to worry about me being a drain.”

Namjoon’s hard gaze flickered before he regarded you for a moment, no indication as to whether you had passed his mini “test” or not, “alright.”

A soft hand squeezed your shoulder gently, belonging to none other than Jimin. The proximity of his warm eyes made your face heat, something Jimin seemed to notice. His smile became teasing, “don’t say that, no one here thinks that you’re a drain. I think you’re going to do great. And if you have any questions don’t hesitate to-”

“I have a question actually,” Namjoon’s voice sounded once again, gaze still trained on you. You couldn’t help but feel a wave of tension run through you every time he spoke, “I’m curious to know why you agreed to this whole thing.”

You pursed your lips, not entirely sure how to reply. On one hand, you didn’t mind telling them about your plan, in fact, you bet they’d be relieved to hear it. But on the other hand, you were slightly afraid that they might think you were using them - which technically speaking you were, but also technically speaking they were using you too. It was an odd predicament.

“My solo career wasn’t doing as well as I had wished it would - plus, the excitement of something new mostly,” you offered. Only half the truth, but just enough to relieve you of your guilty conscience. 

“Well, the contract’s been signed and you’re here now, so you’re one of us,” Taehyung exclaimed, and you couldn’t help but be grateful for how welcoming he’d been since the start. Not that the others haven’t, Jimin’s presence had been like a warm blanket while Jungkook’s secret admiration had been an honour. And you completely understood everyone else’s hesitation, you’d be weirded out too if someone was randomly added to your group three years later. Still, the warm welcomes had made you insanely grateful. 

Taehyung steered you towards the door of the studio, “and what better way to celebrate than to eat some steaming barbeque and noodles.”

“Oh oka-” You barely had time to answer before you were being steered out the door by an enthusiastic Taehyung, the rest shrugging before following behind with casual chatter and mumbles. Soon the studio was empty, no one but Namjoon, Beomgyu, and Hyowon left. 

Namjoon stood with his hands crossed over his chest, gaze fixed on the door when he spoke.

“The contract’s already signed, huh?” he repeated, gaze shifting to the other two men in the room, “and what if we had said no?”

“Namjoon,” Beomgyu pleaded, his face falling, “please don’t make this harder than it has to be…”

Namjoon’s gaze softened, realising that he was directing his anger onto the wrong people, “sorry. I know this isn’t on you, man.”

“Come on, Joon,” Hyowon said, feeling bad for his friend, “she seems nice, and she’s got an incredible voice. You may not like the situation, but at least she’ll be a good addition to the group, no?”

Namjoon’s gaze strayed back to the open door, letting his thoughts whirl around in his head. He didn’t want to voice them out loud because, technically speaking, he didn’t really have any tangible evidence that went against what Hyowon was saying yet.

He uncrossed his arms with a sigh.  

“We’ll just have to wait and see.”

[bejeweledinterludes]

— ⌈ dean x reader headcanons that are way too specific and very important TO ME! ⌋

『 part 2 of @bejeweledinterludes’ headcanon series. 』

read my headcanons part 1 here!

↳ . . . YOOOOO HEYYYY here’s a part 2 since everyone seemed to like the first one! thinking about doing a solely nsfw headcanon post OR some chubby!reader headcanons for deano 😋 bc i’m in the trenches of ovulation week rn and my stupid thoughts have to go somewhere. also, if anyone had requests, i’d definitely be open to that as well! anyhoo enjoy my pookies <3

𖤐 ────────────────────────

> being a decent hunter, the winchester brothers had heard of you before, and you them— you’d heard stories, of course, but you never officially crossed paths until you were at bobby’s house at the same time they were. you’d known bobby— because everybody knew bobby—since you started hunting.

your greeting to them came almost as quickly as your goodbye, nodding at them with a “hey” while clambering down bobby’s front porch to your car, your usual bag full of weapons and books in hand— but not before you notice the jet-black ‘67 impala next to your own.

and you know your way around a car, having your own ‘baby-esque’ vehicle that you love more than life itself (can be vintage or newer model, doesn’t matter, because it’s yours). dean had noticed your car in bobby’s driveway immediately, too— who wouldn’t? the man had eyes.

anyways, you walk past baby in all her glory while nodding appreciatively— turning just a little to dean and tossing a free thumb towards her with a grin before saying a quick: “dude. bitchin’ car.”

and after initially being thrown off by the way you carried yourself, a mixture of confidence, respect, and almost familiarity— dean shoots back with a “could say the same about yours.”

at that remark, you freaking smiled. and dean almost fainted right then and there at the sight. you got in your car, and that was it, due to your visit to bobby’s house really being just a pit stop/supply run before you headed right back on the road again, a new hunt already waiting for you in montana.

> because despite sam and dean being the most good-looking hunters you ever laid eyes on, you weren't one to dilly dally over just a pretty face (when lives were on the line, of course). but somehow, you knew that you’d see them again. hunting wasn’t exactly a booming career field, after all.

> that being said, it took dean a while to get comfortable around you whenever you did end up working together— like a while. you’d only crossed wires with the brothers a few times, helping them out when you could on hunts over the next few years. sam and you made easy friends almost immediately, but dean took longer to warm up to you. but you didn’t mind, or take it personally. you never pushed dean to be your friend even with how much you wanted to be.

> when you guys do work together, though, you and dean understand every single pop culture reference you guys throw at each other. he was shocked when he referenced a classic 80s movie (it was weird science) while working one of your first cases together.

and not only did you understand it and laugh— you made your own joke about it. now you two can’t shut your traps once you get going (for the love of god, do not ask about die hard around them).

> dean and you have also almost blown your cover and gotten caught on hunts because you guys laugh/giggle too loud at what the other says (especially in serious situations).

your favorite running joke is finding old portraits of ugly dead guys, pointing a finger at them and saying to dean “huh, i didn’t know you were alive in *checks plaque under painting* 1837” (and don’t worry, he does the same exact thing to you.)

> dean once fell asleep on your shoulder during a stakeout/recon/watching a potential victim’s house and you didn’t move an inch the entire time. when you finally tried to gently wake him up, he had the audacity to sleepily mumble “jus’ five more minutes” into your shirt and cling to you like a koala in the car. you, being the saint and not wanting to argue, let him sleep for another 2 hours couple minutes.

> and soon enough, dean eventually came around. you knew he cared about you way before he did, but you never forced anything. he appreciated that more than you knew.

and it wasn’t just one single moment of realization like in the movies when dean knew he cared about you. it was quiet, simmering, and when he looked, it was already just… there. but the feelings he hadn’t noticed he’d been pushing down for so long came to a head on a hunt when you almost died— the way they always did when someone he cared about was hurt.

after that, something shifted. you could feel and see it, even if dean didn’t say anything outright to you. for one, he called more often when you were away— he’d need help with something you knew that he already knew damn well how to do, or with something you knew he had much better contacts for.

i mean, come on. he knows freaking rowena, and he’s calling you for assistance on a spell? and sometimes, he’d call for no reason at all, making up some excuse just to hear your voice. you never mentioned it, out of fear he’d stop calling entirely.

> because you always loved when dean called.

───────────────────────── 𖤐

you have two ( 2 ) new messages from the author ! ↓

i genuinely believe that i tweak out over this man at least 4 times a day stg. and the gif i picked lives in my mind rent-free. he looks so ethereal sigh i wish he was real 💔

ANYWAYS here’s my taglist (so far): @blossomingorchids @bluemerakis @ambiguous-avery @maddie0101 @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @sunsbaby @emeraldcrs @h8aaz @honeyryewhiskey @supernotnatural2005 @cowboysandcigarettes @soldiersgirl @figthoughts + if i missed anyone OR if you want to be added/taken off, please let me know! <3

[spiderb00bs]

- REACH ME

Tara Carpenter x reader 

“Maybe Tara wanted to be more than your friend” 

Genre – smut    Warnings – mentions distant parents 

(request) 

Now playing – What You Need, by The Weeknd

Tara Carpenter was never very open about how she felt. She struggled with her emotions, most of the time keeping everything to herself until she couldn't take it anymore and exploded. She knew it was a bad thing to do, something that would only harm herself, but she still couldn't act any other way.   

Any feeling, anger, sadness, sometimes even happiness, Tara kept inside her, even if her heart was on the verge of exploding. Even though Tara had been doing this since she was practically a child, she still couldn't hide certain feelings from her friends. Which meant that everyone knew about Tara's huge crush on you.   

You and Tara were complicated to say the least, always flirting with each other, holding hands around the campus, kissing at some frat parties, you've certainly lost potential people who were interested in the two of you because they thought you and Tara were dating. All this just so that at the end of the day, you and Tara could raise the flag of friendship and make everyone around you want to kick your asses.  

Your friends had had enough. Holy shit! Sam had had enough. All they wanted most was to see you finally admit your feelings for each other, and believe me, they tried everything. Double dates with Anika and Mindy, going out bowling as a couple with Chad and Liv, Ethan and Bailey even tried flirting with both of you to see if you'd get any reaction, but Bailey just got scared of Tara's stares and Ethan backed off because he was sure he'd get punched by you if he stayed by Tara's side for one more second. Amber even locked you in the bathroom once! But that only earned her screams and more screams.   

At some point, everyone was convinced that you might have to figure it out on your own. They didn't know when, they didn't know where, and they certainly had no idea how close it was to happening. Which brings us to the present moment.  

You and Tara always liked to do everything together, and with a big test coming up, you and the Carpenter girl decided it would be a good idea to study together. Your house wasn't noisy, you're sure your brother would stay at his girlfriend's for many days, and your parents were never home, preferring work to spending any time with the family they decided to build themselves.   

Walking to your room - where you and Tara were studying - you carried two glasses of lemonade. Summer was coming and the cold drink seemed perfect to quench your thirst.   

“Man, this is really good.” You said, taking a sip of the liquid in the glass after handing Tara's glass to her.   

Convinced by your tone, Tara brought the glass to her lips, her eyes widening slightly when she saw that you were right. “Wow, you really know how to make something.” Tara says, mocking you.   

“Hey! Of course I know, who the hell do you think I am?”  

Practically throwing yourself into your chair, you felt yourself going slightly backwards in a jolt. Momentarily forgetting that the wheelchair would move if you threw yourself onto it. The sudden movement caused the glass to tip slightly, causing much of the liquid to splash onto your white shirt.   

“Oh, fuck!” Getting up quickly, you heard Tara laughing, glancing at the girl in time to catch her looking at you with a funny face.   

“ Dude, you're such a loser.” Laughing even harder at the scowl on your face, Tara turned around in her wheelchair, following you with her eyes as you walked towards your closet, pulling at your shirt to remove it from your body.   

“Yeah, very funny. Suck my dick, Carpenter."   

Tara knew you meant it in another way, but seeing your muscly back and catching a glimpse of your abdomen and the muscles in your arms made Tara wish you had meant it in the way she was thinking.   

Who could blame her? You were always Tara's ideal type, from the first day she saw you she knew she'd have a fucking crush on you. You were tall, strong, beautiful, had a style to envy, you were polite and funny at the same time. You were everything Tara had always asked the heavens for. But she was afraid, afraid of ruining the friendship you had created over all these years. So she kept accepting the crumbs you gave her, because that was better than losing you completely.   

You and Tara had made out before, but it never went beyond that. Tara knew you had a nice body, and she was even more sure now. With your closet doors open, Tara could see you perfectly well, innocently looking for another shirt, totally oblivious to the hungry gaze the younger Carpenter had in your direction.   

“You know, it's not a bad idea.” Frowning at what Tara had said, you continued looking for a clean, stylish shirt to wear, oblivious to Carpenter's movement around your room.  

“What?” you asked, genuinely confused when a strangely nervous Tara approached you.   

“It wouldn't be a bad idea for me to suck your dick.” In disbelief, you looked at Tara with slightly wide eyes.   

You'd never even talked about sex, let alone considered it. “You're kidding, right?”   

“Why? Do you think you can't handle me?” Tara asked, her fingers gripping the belt loops of your pants, pulling you closer and making you slightly nervous.  

“I can handle it. Can you handle it, Carpenter?” You said, pulling the shorter girl closer by the waist.   

God, you loved Tara's waist, it was so small in your hands, it made you feel so big.   

“Why don't you come and find out...”   

In all the talk, that was more than enough to make you move forward, kissing Tara's lips with desire. Your hands squeezed the girl's slender waist and Tara's sighs were like music to your ears. Her lips tasted like strawberries from the lipstick, and the kiss had a slight aftertaste of the lemonade you were drinking a few minutes ago.   

You couldn't believe it, Tara was simply the most beautiful girl you'd ever seen, and here you were, about to have sex with her. You were nervous, but you had to get over it. You wanted it to be good for Tara, as much as you knew it would be for you.  

Tara gasps as you lift her off the floor, wrapping her legs around your waist, Tara noticing that you were holding her with just one arm, while the other groped the walls, looking for the way out, as you were too busy kissing Tara's neck to lift your head. Finally emerging from the closet, you walk over to the bed, carefully tossing Tara onto it before climbing on top of her.   

“Fuck, you're so hot, Tara.” Lowering your kisses to her breasts, you tugged at the hem of Carpenter's shirt in a silent request to take it off.   

“ Fuck, Yn. Do whatever you want to me!” With a smile on your face, you pulled Tara's shirt off, your fingers quickly going up and opening the clasp of the girl's bra.   

“God, you're so beautiful, Tara.” Hearing your words, the Carpenter girl's body shivered, making her let out a moan as you massaged her breasts - now free of the fabric -.   

“Do you like it?” Looking at you in bewilderment, Tara saw you laugh a little. “Do you like it when I compliment you, Tara?”   

Tara moaned, confirming what you wanted to know.   

“Do you like it when I say you're being a good girl for me?” Tara moaned awkwardly as you took her nipple in your mouth, sucking slowly without giving the girl a chance to respond to your teasing.   

Taking advantage of Tara's distraction in the fog, you unbuttoned the girl's pants, pulling the garment off her body, seeing the damp stain forming on her panties.   

“Fuck, are you already wet?” You teased, leaving a kiss on Tara's clit under the fabric of her underwear, only for the Carpenter girl to let out a loud moan.   

“You do that to me.” Tara said, pulling your hair closer to her intimacy. “Please fuck me.”  

You smiled, knowing that you were making the most of this moment. Even as you felt your cock growing in your pants, you decided that you wanted to make the most of that moment.   

Removing Tara's panties, you gave her pussy an experimental lick, collecting all the juices that flowed from it. “Uhmm, you're delicious, Tara.” Hearing Tara moan, you continued your work.   

Grabbing the brunette's legs, you gained more access to her intimacy, sucking her clit and making the woman squirm in your arms. “Please, Yn. I need more.”  

Looking at the woman, you could see Tara's watery eyes, those eyes that seemed to beg for your pity, those eyes that made you want to torture her even more with pleasure. But at that moment, those eyes made you give in.  

Standing up, you unbuttoned your pants, making Tara lean on her elbows so she wouldn't miss a second of the show. When Tara saw the bulge in your underwear, her mouth was already dry, she had imagined how big you were, even felt it a few times when she was sitting on your lap at parties, but she never thought she would see it up close.   

Seeing Tara look at you as if you were a piece of meat, you let out a snort, reaching out to grab a condom from the drawer of your bedside table. “Drooling too much?”  

“Shut up.” Tara said, the smile on her lips letting you know she was enjoying the moment. “I think you talk too much.”   

Looking at Tara with a raised eyebrow, you watched the girl kneel on the bed, reaching up only to take the condom from your hand, settling back on the bed with a predatory look on her face. “You don't know what you're talking about...”  

“Come here and show me.” Overcome by desire, you took off your underwear, making your cock jump free and hit your abs.   

Climbing onto the bed, you made your way between Tara's legs, kissing the Carpenter girl as soon as you had the chance. You gasped into the kiss as soon as you felt Tara's hand reach your cock, feeling her pump a few times, you spread kisses across her neck, distracting yourself while the younger Carpenter put the condom on you.   

Moving up from her neck to Tara's jaw, you pulled away from her slightly, looking into her brown eyes. “Are you sure you want to do this?”   

Rolling her eyes, Tara put a sarcastic smile on her face. “Why? Don't you think you can handle it?”   

Getting onto your knees properly, you watched Tara lie back comfortably on your pillows. “I just want to make sure you're comfortable with it, Tara.”   

Seeing that you were serious, the Carpenter girl stretched out her arm, her hand resting on your waist, only for her to shake her head, as if finally realizing that you wanted a sincere answer from her.   

“Of course I do.” Sitting up properly on the bed, Tara's hand reached for the back of your neck, pulling you until your forehead was resting against hers. “I've never wanted anything as much as I want this, Yn.”  

Seeing you nod, Tara smiled, pulling you into a kiss and making you lie on top of her. One of your hands was on her waist, while the other guided your cock to her wet pussy.  

Carefully, you slid the head of your cock into Tara, making the woman moan into the kiss. “Fuck, you're so big!”   

“You like that, pretty girl?” Tara moaned at the nickname, ecstatic as you sank into her inch by inch.   

“Fuck, I love it.” Taking your hand in hers, she looked up at you, almost as if asking your permission.   

With your cock all impaled inside Tara, you took both her hands, intertwining them with yours and placing them on top of her head. Your thrusts began at a slow pace, but increased in line with Tara's desperate pleas.   

The brunette underneath you was ecstatic, she was loving it, you were even better than Tara had imagined. You could make the hard feel soft, and the fast feel loving, you could make Tara feel two ways at the same time. She had never had sex with someone who made her feel loved and dirty at the same time.   

The words and compliments you whispered to her made Tara's stomach churn with pleasure, your big, sturdy form on top of her gave her the feeling of protection and imposingness that she used to hate with guys out there. But Tara knew you weren't a guy, and you weren't even close to being a jerk like them either.  

You managed to be gentle and loving amidst the brutality of your thrusts, you managed to leave Tara wanting more, you were making the brunette see stars. And it was only when Tara felt that no forming that she let out a loud moan, which was quickly muffled by your lips on hers.   

You knew Tara was coming, when you pulled away from the kiss, you saw her eyes roll back, her hands squeezing yours as it became harder and harder to move inside her. Slowing your thrusts, you followed Tara all the way up her, still hitting her g-spot as you chased your own orgasm.  

Kissing Tara's forehead, you thrust a few more times, seeing tears of pleasure in the woman's eyes. Grunting, you pulled your cock out of Tara, masturbating quickly and watching the jets of your come fill the condom.   

“Fuck...” Taking off the condom, you went to the bathroom, disposing of it in the trash and getting back into bed as quickly as possible, worried that Tara would think it meant nothing to you.   

Lying next to the brunette, you could see the smile on her face. Crawling closer to her, you left a kiss on the younger Carpenter's cheek, making her look at you with heartfelt eyes.   

“Was it good for you?” you asked, still worried that you hadn't satisfied the woman.   

“Are you kidding?” Tara asked, settling down on your bare chest. “It was the best fuck of my life.” She said laughing.   

Smiling, you looked at Tara, the words stuck in your throat. “Did that... mean anything? Or like, are we just friends who fuck?” You asked, laughing nervously.   

“Yn, I never wanted to be just your friend.” Tara said, leaning in and kissing your lips.   

A feeling of relief ran through your body. Finally, you had the girl you'd always wanted, and you were going to do everything to make her happy. 

hey guys, I hope you're well.

I'm very happy to be posting here today, I hope I'll be able to post some short requests and some thoughts that you send as well.

did you see the oscars? honestly, i'm very happy that “i'm still here” won an award. And although I was rooting for Fernanda until the last minute, I'm also very happy for Mikey. And I want to say that this profile does not support ANY kind of hate or misogyny towards Mikey.

Mikey is a kind and loving soul, and she's just doing her job. So I want to make it clear that I don't support any kind of hate.

anyway, that's it. drink water, stay safe

xoxo, spider.

[cawslew]

BSD: SUNRISE NAVIGATION POST

About: This is a role and age reversal AU, Atsushi, a former Mafia assassin, saves a suicidal young adult, Dazai, from drowning. Now, not only must he juggle mentoring Dazai, but also keeping his other mentee, Kunikida, safe as the Mafia grows more dangerous than ever.

CHUUYA

Chuuya used to be Atsushi’s mentee back when the older was in the Mafia. But unlike Atsushi, who was groomed into obedience, Chuuya was strong-willed, defiant, and never wanted to be a Mafia tool. However, despite his resistance, he was ultimately forced into the organization, largely because of Atsushi.

For years, Chuuya believed Akutagawa killed him. As the man hated Atsushi enough, and he even claimed being responsible. So Chuuya never doubted it. Until he runs into Atsushi again, alive, working for the ADA, and mentoring not one, but two damn students.

That leaves Chuuya reeling. The betrayal still lingers, but so does the bitter realization that Atsushi got to leave while he stayed trapped in the dark. And the fact that Dazai and Kunikida (Especially Dazai. He hates Dazai), Atsushi’s newest student, exists at all? That just makes his resentment burn even stronger.

AKUTAGAWA

Akutagawa and Gin were orphans, just like in the original. They had a small group of friends, barely scraping by until one night, the Mafia tore it all away. His friends were slaughtered. And Akutagawa, in a desperate, rage-fueled retaliation, barely managed to kill the men responsible before collapsing from exhaustion.

That’s when Kyouka and Atsushi found him.

For some reason, Kyouka took him in. And where Akutagawa went, Gin followed.

At first, he hated the Mafia. He hated everything about it. They took everything from him. But somewhere along the line, in a twisted way, he found his reason there.

One thing, though. He never got along with Atsushi.

Mori kept pairing them up, but they were like oil and water. Atsushi was too soft, too merciful, too weak, and Akutagawa refused to be second to someone like him. The competition was fierce, their clashes constant. No matter how strong Akutagawa got, Atsushi was always in his way.

Then Kyouka died. And Atsushi left.

Akutagawa caught him in the act. Tried to stop him. Failed.

And yet, in a moment he still doesn’t fully understand, he covered for him. Let everyone believe he killed Atsushi with his own two hands.

He told himself it didn’t matter. That it was for the best.

Then he sees him again.

And everything he buried? That ugly, seething resentment? Yeah, it comes back full force.

NOTES:

When it comes to Chuuya’s design, I wanted to keep it somewhat close to the novel's appearance while also making sure it felt unique to this AU. Because of that, in the end, I settled on a more strawberry-blond-leaning ginger hair and brown eyes (like in the covers of the novels), with blue specks that give him a dark greenish eye color overall. I took a lot of inspiration from both age 15 Chuuya and his Dragon’s Head Conflict design, which resulted in the red hoodie and dark green jacket.

I especially wanted to make sure Chuuya looks good and fashionable while incorporating more of his tough looks. His haircut was also a recent addition, as he cut it after the death of his close friends about a month ago (for reference, this is about a month before the "start" of the story, where Atsushi meets Dazai).

When it comes to Akutagawa, he stayed somewhat the same? Still rocking that Victorian orphan style. Sadly, I am always unable to do my man justice </3.

In this AU, he wears more layered clothes, a white classic shirt, a black vest, and on top of that, something like a frilly shrug blouse or shrug bolero. Plus a huge black coat. So, like always, he's fancy as fuck.

I also wanted to make sure he looks much more frail and sickly, so he's really pale, has bags under his eyes, and overall looks lanky and a bit sunken.

[macapunoz]

UNREQUITED CLUB ; choi seungcheol

summary it’s not good to resort to breaking hearts if you’re afraid to admit you’re still in love with someone else.

starring seungcheol x f! reader

genre angst，fluff (i might be lying)，unrequited love，mutual pining at some point (?)，uni au，reader does fashion designing

contains reader is kinda toxic，same thing with coups (they’re just both not good ppl)，breakups and leading ppl on，based on a true story。。。 sorry 97z

word count 6k ( thankyu sophi for proofreading ) | playlist bad religion by frank ocean, japanese denim by daniel caesar, secret door by arctic monkeys, all because i liked a boy by sabrina carpenter, fluorescent adolescent by arctic monkeys, green by 12bh, toxic till the end by rosé, first love by sondia

from rhin，this was originally gonna be a smau oneshot but i need to clear my penalties😭 (only 2k words left🗣️) anyways this fic is dedicated to my friend who doesnt have blr but her bias is scoups and she hates the dude cheol is based on😹😊🫰

You always thought you could do well with love. As a kid, you dreamed of marrying a prince after watching way too many princess movies. As you got older—going into middle school—your standards changed once you discovered a few dramas. A lot of them happened to have male lead CEOs, so you wanted a hot, rich man instead.

Eventually, those fantasies died down once you ended middle school. The boys you’ve encountered made you lower your standards and began to think that all boys were full of shit. But you figured you’d find better when you’re an adult. Sure, you’ve found at least some guys cute, but you knew way too much about them to never find yourself together with them.

It was only then that the first year of high school changed something in you. You knew a few older kids since you were family friends with them, and some of them had friends that would tag along. One of those friends happened to be Seungcheol. He was in tenth grade when you met him—just a year older than you. Always smiling and always said kind words.

From there, you’ve been crushing on him. You always thought he was different from all the other boys you’ve liked before. But you figured it was more of a you problem. You remember how you couldn’t even say a word to any guy you liked back then. However, talking to Seungcheol was a piece of cake. You two were close, and others always told you that they think he makes it obvious he likes you.

Back then, you wouldn’t dare to tell him how you felt. He was way out of your league, and you recall that he mentioned not being interested in dating. Plus, you liked it when you thought of him as a friend more than a crush. But like they say, the more you suppress the feelings, the stronger it gets. 

Your feelings towards him lasted until his final year of high school. He was graduating soon, so you figured it was time to confess to him. You were hoping for a rejection, but he ended up reciprocating the feelings. Or, so you thought. Just a week before his graduation, he admitted to you that when he said he liked you, he meant it as friends.

He didn’t mean to hurt you, but all you could ever think of was how much he disappointed you. For a few days, you ghosted him, until the day before he graduated, he wanted to talk to you. Although he never liked you in that way, he still liked you as a friend. Neither of you wanted your friendship to be ruined all because of that. 

You ended up attending his graduation, since you thought it would be mean not to show up to a friend’s important day. It was a bit sad though; you realized your final year of high school would feel a little bit empty. But you reassured yourself that you’d use that time to get over him, because he promised you that it’s okay if you still like him since getting over takes time.

So about doing well with love right now, you’re certain you’re ready for it. You hope you’re at least ready for it.

“I gave your number to Mingyu,” your friend brings up. You two were talking about the men in your biochemistry class, saying how they were either too old or too mid. There were only a few guys who weren’t too bad, and your friend gave your number to one of them.

“Mingyu? As in biochem Mingyu?” You quickly got up from lying down on her bed, looking dead into her eyes in case she was joking with you.

“Yes, that Mingyu. He’s been eyeing you for quite some time, so I told him I can get him with you.”

You wish you could tell her you’re not too sure about this. You have some mixed feelings; a part of you says to YOLO it, but another part is hesitating about it, and you’re not sure what is exactly stopping you. Mingyu is a nice guy, very nerdy, and tall. Lots of girls want him, but it turns out he wants you. What’s the worst that can happen?

A notification from an unknown number pops up on your phone. The message was from Mingyu, and he was asking you out to lunch some time. It took you a while to respond since you and your friend were getting giddy over it. But you ended up agreeing to have lunch with him.

The lunch date with him wasn’t too bad. He was super sweet when you two were conversing. He always kept complimenting you, and it made your heart skip a beat. He did it often, and your pounding heart began to feel sort of different. You weren’t feeling quite ecstatic, but you figured you were just nervous.

From there, you’ve gone on several dates with him, and at this point, you’re just waiting for him to ask you to be his girlfriend. There’s no rush; he’s probably not ready, so you might as well wait for him. The more dates you go on with him, the more you’re hoping he doesn’t ask you. But on one date, he ends up asking you to be his girlfriend, and without thinking before speaking, you immediately say yes.

You never told anyone except your friend about the two of you being together, and you never found yourself with him during biochemistry. You weren’t too sure why you did that, but the relationship ended when you told him you couldn’t give him the same amount of love he gave you. That was only because you found yourself staring at Seungcheol for only two seconds. Your relationship with Mingyu lasted for only two months. 

When you told your friend about the breakup, she was surprised that you didn’t cry about it. She kept pestering you to tell her why you broke up with him, only to get a vague response from you that you just felt bad. You weren’t sure if it was the pang of guilt for staring at Seungcheol or the fact that you didn’t actually like Mingyu, but you were sure it had to do something with Seungcheol.

“Hah, Cheol just sent me another stupid brain-rotted reel,” you say out loud to your friend, scrolling through Instagram on your phone while she does the same.

“Seungcheol? I thought you said you guys don’t text anymore." Your friend’s curiosity piqued right when you mentioned that name.

“No, no. We don’t text like that anymore, but we send reels here and there. He probably just does it to annoy me or infiltrate our DMs. The only time he ever texts me is when he’s waiting for me by the studio,” you tell her, not realising she never knew that you always meet up with him at the end of the day.

“He’s the one giving you rides on Tuesdays? I thought that was Mingyu.”

“Nope. Seungcheol takes the same route going to the dorms, so he offered to give me rides once a week.”

“Is that why you broke up with Mingyu?” Your friend’s question makes your eyes go wide. You close your phone and get up from resting on her headboard to look at her properly.

“I–” You don’t want to continue your words; it’s most likely something you wouldn’t want to hear, especially if it’s about Seungcheol. “I’m… starving. Let’s eat first and talk about that later,” you mutter, hoping she forgets about it later on.

You never ended up talking to her about that, and you hope she never brings it up.

Seungcheol places a cup of coffee on the table in front of you. You were resting your head on the table, but immediately lifted up when Seungcheol sat next to you. “You look like you were dying today, so I got you some energy.” You thank him for the drink and start downing it like you were parched for days.

He picks up your notebook and starts analyzing the draft you drew. “What’s this for?” He asks, pointing at the lazy sketch of a jacket.

“It’s for my fashion properties assignment. We have to make an outfit out of fabric given to us. Mine is leather, so I’ve been brainstorming how to make this jacket look cute but comfy. I already drew the skirt for it.”

“I think you can easily come up with something. Your designs are cool and leather looks hard to work with, but you’re always dedicated,” Seungcheol assures you, hoping you don’t crash out in front of him over this.

You scoff. “Hah, what do you know about fashion?” Pointing out his every-day lazy black hoodie and grey sweat pants combination. 

“Okay, not everyone wants to wake up early and choose what to pair their tops with their bottoms! Some just pull out whatever they have,” he rolls his eyes.

“You would not survive fashion school,” you joke, making Seungcheol huff but grin. As much as he can be annoying and get annoyed by you, he’ll never take a joke seriously.

If only he knew how much he makes your day by his annoyance.

Life was calm. You were so close to finishing the leather jacket, only having to attach the pockets, but you decided to take a break and finish it another day. You still had to work on the skirt, but you had plenty of time—grateful that this project is due in six months.

While waiting in the mall for your friends to come back from the washroom, you were sitting down and sketching out a new design in your journal.

You were thinking of making a top for your friend since her birthday was coming up soon. She would definitely like a sweatshirt. Your name gets called out, turning your head in that direction, and you see your friends walk out the washroom.

The three of you walk around, thinking of what stores to check out. Jiwon brings up going to the shoe store nearby, so the two of you follow her. You roam around the store, looking at the different kinds of shoes. Platforms, Mary Janes, sneakers, boots, all kinds that were in your size and style.

“…Yo what the heck? I didn’t know you work here.” You overhear Jiwon. She was talking to one of the workers, most likely a friend of hers. He’s tall and kind of cute. His glasses sit on the top of his head, and you caught him glancing at you while talking to your friend.

You avert your eyes to the black loafers, picking it up as you examine them. Your other friend goes up to you and asks your opinion if she should get brown boots or black boots. After she tried both on, you told her to get the black pair since she already owns a brown one.

As you accompany your friend to the check-out, Jiwon goes up to you and says she needs to go buy some makeup after this. You looked at her friend, who was standing by the counter, catching him staring at you again. He quickly turns his head and walks away.

It only took a week later to meet Jiwon’s friend again at a café. You were sitting alone by the window and still sketching out the top for your friend, so focused that you didn’t notice someone was standing in front of you.

“Can I sit here?” He asks, making you look up. You nod and go back to sticking your head into your journal. He sits in the chair facing and starts a conversation. “You’re one of Jiwon’s friends, right?”

You put your pencil down and look at him. “Yeah, and you are?”

“Dokyeom,” he introduces himself with a smile, sticking his hand out for a handshake.

You shake his hand. “(Name).”

You got to know a lot about him and talked about how the both of you met Jiwon. He was her classmate since high school, and you met her in your fashion design courses. You ended up exchanging numbers, and the moment you left to go back home, you spammed your friend with multiple messages.

As usual, you laid on her bed while you yapped to her about him. It’s always been this way with every guy you both encounter since your high school days. You talked for a while, not even realising it was already midnight—at least it’s a weekend night.

You spoke to Dokyeom very often. Always texting during your lectures and even calling at night. Sometimes you would even call him while you were sewing. There was something familiar about him every time you talked, and it felt nice.

One time you were on call, he asked you about your ideal type. You never really had an ideal type, so you said common traits all your crushes had from the top of your head. “Someone tall, kind, and a cute smile too. I’d want them to be smart and productive as well.”

"So...me basically,” he jokes. You agreed without a thought and that conversation started your relationship with Dokyeom.

You really like him. He was kind and entertaining. He was always fun to your friends and was nice to everyone. He always took you out on dates and took you home. Unlike Mingyu, Dokyeom made sure that the world knew you were his.

He really loved you and wanted to show everyone that he did. And by every one, he meant every one. The news got to Seungcheol one day and it all just stopped. The daily brain-rotted reels he sends you ended up being three times a week. 

He barely got a response from you to the reels, and you only reacted to the messages. He slowed them down and sent them to you once a week. The only time you responded to a reel he sent, he left your message on ‘seen’, and then stopped sending you reels.

It’s not that he hated you or anything. He just knew you had a boyfriend now, so he didn’t want to go against your relationship’s boundaries. He would still pick you up every Tuesday, but the car ride conversations were always about school now or sometimes silent. He never asked about Dokyeom, and you never brought him up.

Being distant with Seungcheol kind of hurt, but you knew you were just getting over him and Dokyeom was there to help you. Or so you thought. Somehow, there would be conversations you have with Dokyeom, and you would absentmindedly bring up Seungcheol.

The first time you did, he asked who he was, and he didn’t sound jealous, just curious. You explained that he was just an old crush from high school and that he was basically a distant friend to you now. 

He got more curious about him so you showed him his profile once. He looked through his account and started saying how you downgraded so much, pointing out Seungcheol’s physique.

You didn’t want Dokyeom to be hurt, so you began assuring him that he was much better than Seungcheol. You admit that Seungcheol played you back in high school and that he’s not even all that. Ever since that, you would bring down Seungcheol.

You were convinced you disliked Seungcheol, but Dokyeom always thought otherwise. Even though you would talk badly about him, your boyfriend still listened to you talk about him.

“I think you still like him,” Dokyeom brings up while you were ranting about what Seungcheol did to you in your junior year of high school. You were taken aback and denied so quickly. “You talk about him more than me,” he mutters. You apologized and assured him that you care about him more than Seungcheol.

“You know it’s okay if you still like him,” he considered. 

“No!” You retorted. “That’s just morally wrong! Why would I like another man while I’m in a relationship?! I don’t like him anymore, and I never will. I have you now, and you already make me happy.”

Dokyeom still wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t want to see you angry again, so he just nodded and patted your head.

Another time you brought up Seungcheol was when Dokyeom asked you who your first love was. When you admitted it was Seungcheol, he already knew since you always talked about him. When you asked him who his first love was, all he did was point at you, and that already made you regret saying your answer.

I never will. You said that in hopes you won’t ruin your relationship because of an old crush. Why do you always find yourself talking about Seungcheol anyway? He did you so wrong, and you’re sure he doesn’t care about you. Why was he even your first love?! 

A week later, you realized you were lying. After you told Seungcheol he doesn’t need to drop you off at your dorm anymore since Dokyeom could take you there, you ended up deleting his contact on your phone and unfollowing his Instagram. But after one car ride with your boyfriend, you thought about Seungcheol and what he really means to you. Dokyeom was right.

You went to Jiwon for advice about it, and she figured he would want you to admit it to him since all he wants is for you to be happy. That night, you confessed to Dokyeom that you still had feelings for Seungcheol, but it was only 1%—since 99% is for your boyfriend.

However, the more you saw Seungcheol, the feelings kept growing more. You never told Dokyeom, but you didn’t want to keep hurting him. On one random Monday afternoon, you met up with him at the same café you first met him and broke up with him on the spot. You never wanted to admit it was about Seungcheol, so all you told him was that you were just the problem in the relationship—which was true.

Your relationship with Dokyeom only lasted for six months, but for some reason, you felt relieved and free. It only took you a few days to realize that Dokyeom reminded you of Seungcheol, and you used him to fill that empty void since senior year. But no matter how loving Dokyeom was to you, you secretly hoped it was Seungcheol instead.

Guilt held onto you and convinced you that you were a bad person at this point. You knew you were going to die alone, but honestly, you’d rather have that than break someone’s heart again. Not only were you single—which you could care less about—you were still distant with Seungcheol. 

You tried not to care, but every time you saw him on campus, it always hurt to think about how distant you two are. It got to a point where you walked past him and neither of you said hi. You figured he hated you until you once had a dream about him when you got a fever.

You were at a party, and all of a sudden Seungcheol’s friends made fun of you. You blamed it on him and left the party. The scene changed, and you were walking with your friend to your next lecture. As you walked down the halls, you noticed your mother’s friend was with someone, so you greeted her, not bothered by the fact that your “aunt” was at your university. That someone she was with ended up being Seungcheol. When he smiled and waved at you, you frowned and ignored him as you walked away. 

You instantly jolted awake, sweating real bad as the headache you had earlier stopped. You looked at the time, 4:27. It’s Tuesday, and around this time, you would wait for Seungcheol to pick you up. You thought a lot about the dream and how you were so mean to him in that dream.

“I don’t want to hate him anymore,” you think to yourself. You open your phone to Instagram, look up his username, and immediately hit follow. Then you go to your contacts and type his number to remake his contact in your phone—still remembering his number and putting it in your phone like the first time you two exchanged numbers. 

Right when he followed you back three minutes later, you sent him a message about how you don’t like the two of you becoming distant and wanting to start over as friends. He agrees, and you ask to see him over lunch.

The next day you met up with him for lunch, and he was still the same annoying Seungcheol: always watching brain-rotted reels while you two talk and always teasing you. It feels nice to have this back, and you’re glad the two of you are not going to be distant anymore. Well, you thought you two were on bad terms, but everyone, including him, never thought that. It should’ve hit you that he could never hate anyone, so what would make him hate you?

After that, you went to the design studio thinking about Seungcheol. You really do like being friends with him, and you’re sure you don’t like him romantically. You soon realized that you didn’t need to bring him down in order to get over him. Today made you realise why he’s your first love. 

You finally finished the leather jacket and the skirt. You never realized how you never got to finish the outfit while you were with Dokyeom, but only being able to finish it when you were alone. The good part of being a single fashion designer is that you have a lot of time for yourself to design anything.

The bad part, though, is that people like you always make apparel for others but yourself. It took you a while to notice that the leather jacket was too oversized for the skirt. It’s a men’s jacket, and the measurements were for Seungcheol.

After handing in your design, you finally took some time to design something for yourself. Maybe some jeans or a cute sweater. Since Valentine's Day was coming up and you and your friends were invited to a party that day, you had an excuse to make a whole outfit for yourself.

You took several days brainstorming and sketching out what to wear, but you finally settled on something simple. Maybe you were too focused on creating your outfit that you didn’t realise Valentine’s Day was about love, and all of sudden all your friends had a date to the party.

“I can’t believe we’re the only ones without a date!” Your friend complains. “Even Jiwon is going with that red head guy!”

“Hey, we have each other. You should wear that top I made for you for your birthday.”

“I definitely will.”

The both of you lie down on her bed, except this time you’re not talking about guys. It’s not bad to not have a date, but you’ll be disgusted if you see your friends all over their dates.

“Hey, it’s kind of ironic how all our friends’ dates are all friends too. And they have three guys who still don’t have a date.”

“Yeah, no. Saerom tried setting me up with Junhui because she thought we’d be perfect for each other, but he keeps sending me cat photos. And didn’t he like everyone?”

“Yikes. I forgot his friend group is odd.” Right when you brought that up, you get a text from Minghao, Jun’s cousin. He asks you if you already have a date to the party, and you reply with a no. The only person from that friend group you can tolerate is Minghao. He’s pretty much normal, but he’s just a friend.

Minghao then asks you if you want to go with him to the party. “Oh, wow, Minghao is asking me out,” you say to your friend. “What should I say?”

“Yes! Are you crazy (Name)?”

“What about you, though?”

“I’ll be fine. I have Hayoung since she doesn’t want to go with anyone.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s not going to show up.”

“Still. Just go with him!”

You sigh and send him a thumbs up. A part of you only wants to do this for the fun of it, but another part of you doesn’t want to since you like being alone.

The day of the party rolls by, and you just finished up the dress you were making for it. All your friends agreed you were all going there together. You quickly made a few adjustments to your dress in the car, putting the pack of pins in your handbag. If there’s one thing you can’t go out in public without, it’s a sewing kit.

You arrive at the house where it was being held, and you see several people entering. When you all entered the house, your friends easily found their dates and you met up with Minghao.

You honestly just wanted to stay with your friend, so you stuck with her as Minghao followed behind with his friend. No matter how many times you wanted to be with your friend, your other friends and his friends always pushed you into Minghao’s arms and took pictures.

You felt that same pang of guilt when you were with Mingyu and Dokyeom. You know that feeling a bit too well, and all you want to do is leave the party with your friend. You eventually gave up and just stuck with Minghao for a while.

As you left him to go get a drink, you bumped into Seungcheol, who you thought doesn’t go to parties like these. "Hey, I thought your mom banned you from going to parties." He mentioned as you two walked to the kitchen.

“I thought you don’t go to parties? And my mom doesn't care anymore.”

“My friends convinced me to go here.” He picks up his phone, and his screen reveals ‘Mingyu’ as the person calling him, making your heart drop. He answers the call, hanging up seconds later. “Which, speaking of, are looking for me. I’ll see you around (Name)!” He walks the other way, and you leave the kitchen without a drink in your hand, only leaving with a pounding heart. 

You went back to Minghao and told him you were going to go home with your friend, and you left him without giving him a chance to say goodbye. Honestly, you hope Seungcheol didn’t see you with him and hope that none of your friends upload those photos. 

You looked for your friend and left the house together. Instead of going back to the dorms, you two just walked to the nearest convenience store to just hang out and calm down.

“So you don’t like Minghao?” Your friend asks as you look through the candies in the candy aisle of the store.

“I like him as a friend, just not in that way.” You confirmed, picking up a pack of gummy bears and following your friend to the drink aisle.

“I heard Saerom’s man was the one encouraging Minghao to ask you,” she points out.

“Junhui got pissed at me because I took his last person he was going to be with, like I kept telling him he can have his cousin!”

“What made you want to leave, by the way?”

You stayed silent as you watched her think of what beverage to buy. She looks back, waiting for an answer. “I think it’s because of me.”

She picks out an orange soda, and you two make your way to the cashier. “What do you mean?” She asks, in the middle of paying.

“I think I just like being single.” You two leave the store and sit down at a table right outside, placing your stuff on the table.

“And that’s okay. It’s not bad being single,” she assures, putting down the drink and holding your hand with one hand.

“I know it’s not. I just don’t do well with love; I keep hurting guys.”

“I can tell. I was there when Mingyu asked for your number, when Dokyeom said he was your ideal type, and when Minghao asked you out.”

You sigh and chuckle after. “Wow. I can’t believe I’m such a manipulator. I just led on three guys.”

“(Name) as much as I love you, that’s not something to be proud of.” You nod in response, repeatedly muttering a bunch of ‘I know’ to her. “You always keep saying it’s about you and your emotions. But have you ever considered it’s about Seungcheol?”

This is what your friend has wanted to discuss since your days with Mingyu. You knew your breakups were because of Seungcheol, but you never realized it wasn’t him, it was about him. That feeling in your heart you had earlier when you saw your ex’s name on his phone brings you back to freshman year.

You like Seungcheol.

“I think I still like Seungcheol,” you admit to your friend.

“All because you saw him earlier? Cause I saw you two talking in the kitchen,” she brings up about that little interaction that made you aware of your feelings.

“No. I think I always liked him, but I was in denial about it. Just think about it. I caught myself staring at Seungcheol while I was with Mingyu. Dokyeom told me I talk about him a lot. And well, Minghao never reminded me of him.”

“I figured. Whenever I asked you if you were going to be with your man, you were a bit soulless. No offence, but you were never excited when you talked about them. Now that I think about you, when you were with them, you never talked about them at all to us.”

You lowered your head, mentally slapping yourself for doing that. “It was so different from Seungcheol though. Every time you looked at Seungcheol and talked to him, it wasn’t the same with the others. I saw stars in your eyes. You didn’t like him; you were in love with him.”

Your friend is still holding onto your hand, ignoring the fact that you’re in the middle of having a heart to heart in front of a convenience store. 

“(Name), I think all you needed was to be honest with yourself. It’s okay to love Seungcheol. No matter how many hearts you break, you’re not a bad person. It just shows how caring you are. You can still be friends with him even if all our friends hate him. Even though I think what he did to you back in junior year was so messed up, you were so strong to go through that heartbreak. You are amazing and loving, and I want you to tell that to yourself every day.”

With your free hand, you cover your eyes with it. Your friend gave you tissue paper from her bag, as she was quick to notice that you were tearing up. She moves herself closer and brings you into her arms.

“Choi Seungcheol is one lucky man to have you love him.”

You got your leather jacket and skirt back, getting a 98% on it. As long as you got over the nineties for it, you’re happy. You only lost a few points for making it a men’s jacket instead of a women’s jacket. 

Since you got the jacket back, it would make sense to give it to Seungcheol since it’s clearly his size only. Your friendship with Seungcheol has been calm ever since that heart-to-heart with your friend. He still picks you up from the studio, but instead of taking you to your dorms, you two go on little side quests for fun. 

The weather has been getting warmer, so you two would go wherever to hang around outside. He picked up a hobby of taking photos due to a friend of his gifting him a camera. So every time he would drop you off at the dormitory, he would take a picture of you in front of the building.

“Open your sweater so you can show off the new shirt you made,” he requests, looking at you through the lens as he watches you zip down your sweater. You made an unserious shirt, printing a picture of a sock monkey on it. 

After hearing camera clicks, he puts the camera down. “Cute outfit,” he points out.

“And we need to work on your closet!” You tease.

He rolls his eyes and tells you good night, driving off when you tell him to rest well tonight. Right when you turn around, you face Jeonghan, who happens to be one of Seungcheol’s friends and lives on the floor above you.

“Wow, and Jisun said there was going on between you two,” he remarks. If there was anyone nosy about you two, it would be Jeonghan. According to Jisun, several guys—including Jeonghan—would ask about you and Seungcheol, some of whom she didn’t even know by name. 

"Yeah, cause we’re friends,” you confirm, heading to the elevator as Jeonghan follows you in.

“I asked Seungcheol if he still likes you, and he said he likes you as a friend only.”

Even though you’re quite annoyed by him, you still manage to respond to that. “Well, he never had feelings for me, so he’s valid for that. Plus, I like it that way.”

“So you can’t be delusional anymore,” he jeers as the elevator comes to a stop on your floor. You step out of the elevator, hoping Jeonghan just minds his own business and stays in there.

“I like being his friend anyway, Yoon Jeonghan,” you mimic his tone as you watch the doors close in front of him.

You’re not wrong with your words, though. You love being friends with Seungcheol.

Seungcheol and you are on your usual side quests after he picks you up from the studio. This time there were bands performing at a nearby park, so you went there to chill. You brought the jacket, but held onto it considering he’s going to assume it’s yours.

As you picked a spot to sit down, there was already music and the sky was getting dark soon—before that, you two went to feast yourselves with cheap ramen and an unhealthy amount of soda. 

You hand him the jacket without saying anything; he takes it with a puzzled expression displayed. “It’s the leather jacket I was designing a few months ago. I accidentally made it your size,” you speak up, smiling as you watch his perplexed expression turn into an ecstatic smile.

“Accidentally? Or did you intentionally make it for me?” He jokes as he puts it on, making you push his shoulder.

“This is going to be the last time I’ll ever make you something.” You snootily look away. He laughs and apologizes—always apologizing after he makes fun of you.

You two stayed silent as you swayed to the music. It’s calm and sweet. You could stay in this moment forever, nothing and no one to bother you. Right now could be a good time for Seungcheol to make another stupid joke, but he seems to be enjoying the music too.

This is what you need. Nothing romantic with him, but close to him. The sky was dark, and you pointed out the fairy lights hanging around the trees. Seungcheol lies down his head on the grass, now staring at the sky, as you follow along.

“Sky is too cloudy to see stars,” he mentions. You avert your eyes from the sky to him, turning your head to comfortably gaze at him. He was still looking up. You don’t expect him to look back; he never does. But you enjoy this, just intaking his unforgettable face.

“Thank you, (Name),” he mutters, “for coming here with me.”

You don’t respond right away, still listening to the music. “Of course, but I’m sorry,” you let out, now turning your head to gaze up at the sky again.

“Sorry for what?” He asks, your no-context apology makes him look at you now, watching you stare at the non-existing stars—just like his love for you.

“Still being in love with you.”

svt masterlist .ᐟ