#(feel free to come @ me w any questions or anything else!)

[theha1rarch]

@disneybucks asked: You know, I get that you've got the mask and all, but I can't seem to shake the feeling you've got the most incredible mane under there. What's your routine? Also: look out, 'cause some goon's coming at you with a pipe. Yikes!

Steve - doesn't know what to think exactly of this. Of the whole situation. Of this guy. He doesn't know who he is, and he's wearing a mask as well so it's not like he could see him to try to figure it out, but it's also kind of odd (creepy?) that he's so accurately made a correct assumption. Eyebrows furrow, hand goes to his hip - jutting it out in what Robin likes to call the 'mom stance' - and goes to open his mouth to answer when the rest of what the guy's said catches up to him. Eyes widen now and he's quick to turn around, spotting said goon, quickly recognizing him as one of the ones that'd gotten away in the bank robbery he'd stopped earlier. Instinctively an arm shoots out protectively to the guy now behind him and the other is shooting a web out to the goon, effectively stopping him in his tracks and sticking him to the alley wall.

He slowly turns back to guy now, brows furrowing once more - even if the other can't see them. "Who the hell are you?" Is asked as he carefully pulls out a phone, quickly shooting off a text to Henderson to alert the cops of the now tied up goon. "Where did you come from? Do I need to be worried about you?" A pause before adding on. "Are you ... like me?"

[macfrog]

sweet child o' mine | pt. ii

hi. this is max's lawyer speaking. please don't get mad at her for this part. she asked me to let you know that she loves you all and hopes that you trust her. sincerely, jimmy mcgill

pairing: neighbor!joel x fem!reader

summary: you're pregnant with joel miller's kid. he's dating someone else. you deal with it.

warnings: reader is literally pregnant so typical pregnancy stuff like nausea (none of the v word, y'all are safe with me), ultrasound scene set in a hospital, anxiety and guilt surrounding pregnancy, description of body change/growth, brief and i mean brief discussion of abortion, joel is dating someone who isn't reader, age gap (late 20s reader, late 40s joel), reader has no physical description save for hair, cursing, genderless use of buddy when referring to baby, joel kisses someone who is not his partner, mention of alcohol, disturbing & semi-graphic nightmare about being involved in car accident, reader has a panic attack, discussion of dead parents, fluff and the beginnings of angst DISCLAIMER: this series covers some issues which i know may be sensitive and possibly triggering to some. warnings will always be as thorough as possible, but if there's ever anything you feel i've missed, please let me know. feel free to drop by my inbox anytime.

word count: 9.2k

pt. i / series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🩵

“I know, I know,” Joel holds a palm up, “it’s nine thirty. I know. But I had to lug all this wood over here, and it – You okay?”

You realize when he pauses that you’re gaping at him, wide-eyed and frozen in place behind your front door. Your jaw hinges shut, a gulp like carpet burn down your throat. You didn’t hear a word he just said.

How does he know? He can’t possibly. Did he sense it, from two lawns away? Dream about the binding of cells, the furnace left lit in your body from that night? The embers still floating, just waiting to catch to life again?

Did he do the fucking math, the way you probably should’ve? How does he fucking know?

The minute the question leaves your mouth, you regret it.

Joel’s eyebrows drop. “How did I know what, kid? That you need new closets? Like you ain’t been nipping my ear about ‘em for weeks?”

Your eyes unlock from his and shift to the slats of wood leaning against the balustrade. The toolbox hanging from his fist. The worn jeans and the white dust marks on his thighs. He doesn’t fucking know, you idiot.

Joel steps forward. Takes your wrist. One grounding, steady hand around your thrashing pulse. “You’re freaking me out. What the hell’s –?”

“Nothing,” you chirp, remembering. The closet. The deal. The fucking – the deal. You withdraw your arm. Hidden up your sleeve, quickly slipping out of his grasp, is the news that his life is about to change forever.

Maybe. You don’t fucking know.

“No,” you continue, blinking the burn of sunlight from your vision, “I just – I forgot. Sorry. Come in. Sorry.”

“Quit sayin’ sorry,” he mutters, eyeing you suspiciously. He lifts a foot and hovers it over the threshold, hesitating. Like the first step across a minefield; instinct telling him to tread carefully.

And you swear an oath to yourself, swear it on your own life: if he doesn’t put the heel of his boot in your hallway, if he turns around right now whether because his instinct is razor sharp, or because he forgot his lucky screwdriver, or purely because he needs to take a fucking leak before he gets started – you will never tell him. He will never know.

If his intuition is that good, he’ll turn around and never show up on your porch again. If he has any sense, he’ll forget any of this ever happened. Deal off.

“How’s the stomach?” Joel asks, sole still three inches from wood.

“What?” you bleat, your heel knocking against the bottom stair. It’s a little more panicked than you intended.

“Yesterday,” a crease forms between his brows, “you said you had a weird stomach. That any better?”

Oh, you think, and as you open your mouth to reply, his foot hits the ground. No answer needed. He was coming in whether you tried to deter him or not.

“Oh, yeah. It’s – Well, it’s better than it was. I think I worked it out,” you grimace, tongue curling under the tinge of anxiety and – well. “Thanks,” you add, noticing the brisk cut of your replies.

The heavy thud of his footsteps follows you upstairs, blunt on the carpet as you lead him up. Joel sets the toolbox down and casts your room a quick glance, snapping back to you as soon as you notice him.

You tug on the corner of the bedsheets, a heat bubbling beneath your cheeks. Something shy and self-conscious, all of a sudden. The reality that you don’t feel close enough to this man to share the anatomy of your room with him, mixed with the knowledge that the two of you are, now and forever, bound by the anatomy of something a little more significant than dirty laundry and dusty wardrobes.

A little closer than most humans get, let’s say.

“You want a coffee or something?” you ask, crossing your arms and leaning back against the window sill.

“You havin’ one?”

“Sure. Wait – actually –” Can you have coffee whilst pregnant? A woman at work quit it altogether when she fell pregnant with her son. Fuck. “I’m – No. I’m good. But let me go make you one.”

Joel shakes his head, amused. Screwdriver burrowing into a door hinge already. He flashes you a tickled grin. “I’m good just now, kid. Wait until you’re makin’ one. Thanks.”

You lift a shoulder. “Welcome.”

His eyes flit from the twist of silver to your hunched shoulders, your arms crossed protectively over your chest. “You gonna stand there ‘n watch me all day? You my foreman now?”

“Sure,” you reply, and he laughs. You sniff, twisting your foot into the carpet. The plastic test itches against your skin; you can feel the two lines ripping into your wrist like tiny burns. “I can go, if you want.”

His lip turns, musing. A quick flick of his jaw. “You’re good company, all in all.”

Metal clanking against metal; fingers knuckle-deep in the toolbox. You can hear the harsh sound across your body, like the point of screws and bite of rust are actually scoring your skin. The groan of a near-fifty-year-old man rising to rip a decades-old door from its home. The creak of wood as it splits.

Everything so heightened that it’s actually painful.

Joel straightens up and pauses, turning his screwdriver between his fingers. “Are we –? We’re good, right?”

“Good?”

“Yeah. You’d tell me if things were weird?”

“Why would things be weird?”

His answer scrawls itself across his face. Your response scoffs from your lips.

“I just,” Joel sighs, “I feel like something might be off with ya. Maybe you just ain’t feelin’ too hot. But you’re quiet.”

“Quiet,” you whisper, palms locking heavily against your biceps. More defensive than convincing.

“Yeah. You usually annoy the hell outta me.”

Over your shoulder, Alice Brown waddles down her driveway, eyeing her flowerbeds. She pauses when Diane’s station wagon pulls up across the street; stands motionless as she watches the round figure climb out and totter to her own front door.

“Just – not in a very annoying mood, I guess,” you offer, staring at the white head of hair fluttering in the breeze. The glint of a trowel in her hand.

Joel’s chin lifts. He studies you, tongue tracing the ridges of his teeth. And then he’s nearing you, turning until you’re shoulder to shoulder, two silhouettes stood against the bright square of blue sky inside your window frame. His arms crossed; his stare fixed.

The words begin to boil in your stomach. Violent bubbles against the wall of your midriff. Rising like steam, fading into nothingness over your tongue, the sting of heat where your voice won’t collect them.

Joel moves from foot to foot. It feels like some kind of merry dance, some choreographed moment between you – like a skit in a comedy show. I know something you don’t know.

“What happened – at the wedding,” he murmurs, addressing the polished gold of your bedframe.

Some small sound passes your lips. An affirmative. You’re on the same page.

“We didn’t use – you know. And with you not feelin’ well, it’s…” A deep breath. Chest full of a ghostly bravery. And then he asks, “Are you –?”

Silence swallows the end of his question whole. You didn’t need it, anyway. The stiffness of his frame, his stare shooting straight ahead. The lack of oxygen between you – both holding your breath for fear that something might tear loose from your lungs. He knows. He knows he knows he knows.

You gulp. “…If I was?”

His head cranes upwards, focusing on the cracked plaster of your ceiling. The realization slowly trickling down over his skin. It hasn’t seeped through, hasn’t bled into his brain yet. “Then,” another breath, “then it’d be a conversation…” His voice is halved, split somewhere between knowing and – what is it? Hoping?

Your eyes slip over to the worn sleeve of his T-shirt, stretched around the swell of his bicep; scaling up to his shoulder, the tight set of his jaw. He’s so much taller, he’s so much older. There’s so much life lived and so many lessons learned behind his eyes that you wonder how much the news I’m pregnant would actually crack him.

Your eyes meet. You whisper, “Then – talk,” and his expression softens.

He blinks away whatever’s left of his trying, his polite attempts to skirt around it. He sheds probably a good three decades – turns back into some doe-eyed boy, wonderstruck and terrified. His voice is quiet, and at the same time, the heaviest with emotion you’ve ever heard it. “Are you?” he asks, and immediately, he blurs behind a wall of tears.

Your sentence gets caught in your teeth. It made no sense to begin with. Tangled between your molars, latching at the back of your tongue. Your hand slowly pulls free from your sleeve, the little white test between your fingers.

Joel’s eyes instantly drop, staring at the pale stick with a fraught expression you understand to mean the message has finally reached his brain. The same words now ringing between his ears: She’s pregnant. She’s pregnant. I got her pregnant.

You hold the test out, quivering in the daylight. He takes it in his thumbs, instantly soothing its tremble. Everything muted, every movement steady and considered. And suddenly the sight of that positive test feels less scary, in his hands. Feels like a smaller problem, if that were ever possible.

And he says nothing, and it’s almost unbearable to watch the shape of his lips thin, the shadow beneath his brows darken. Agonizing to stand here and wonder what the next words over his tongue will be.

He stares at it a moment longer. You count the beats of your pulse in your throat. You wrap your arms tighter around your body, holding your skeleton together.

Joel’s lips part. Your breath freezes. Whatever he says, you don’t want to miss a syllable.

“Are you –” he blinks, “– are you feelin’ okay?”

You stare blankly. His eyes finally lift.

“What?”

“Are you feeling okay?”

Your head jerks. “I’m – I’m fine. I mean, I’m fucking shocked.”

He nods. “How long have you known?”

“Took that right before you showed up,” you say, eyes diving to his hands. “Twenty minutes, maybe.”

He’s still switching between you and the test. Checking those two lines are still there, as if they might fade to nothing, and then checking you’re still there – as if you might, too. Might be swept off if he’s not keeping an eye on you.

His face pales. He sinks back against the window ledge. “Jesus,” he breathes, a hand down the scruff of his chin.

And it feels like relief, like a mirror sat before you, presenting the honest truth: you’re fucked, and Joel thinks so, too. It embeds the shock into the cushion of your brain, the weight of it absorbed and laid bare for every particle in your body to pay it a visit. What the fuck do we do now?

“Yeah,” you sniff, “Jesus.”

But then his arm wraps around your shoulder, reminding you you’re still solid. Still whole. He holds you to his side, and when you turn into him, he takes you in the other and pulls you flat against his chest. His lips to your hair. His breathing slowing yours.

“We’re gonna work it out,” he says into your hair. “We’re gonna – Jesus, I did not expect…We are goin’ to be fine, alright? You are goin’ to be fine.”

You’re nodding, the prickle of tears flooding across your eyes again. They’re doing nothing, his words – blunt against your skin and insignificant to the fear swelling around your heart – but it feels better to be afraid with someone. Feels better to hold onto something stronger, something bigger, while you feel yourself beginning to shrink.

“What do we do?” you ask into his shirt.

Joel loosens his grip, pulls away until you’re staring at one another. “What do you wanna do?”

“I don’t…” Your head’s shaking, lips moving quicker than your voice will offer the words over. “I don’t think I want to get rid of it.”

He nods, a hand coming up to hold your cheek. “Alright. Then you don’t have to. You don’t gotta do anythin’ you’re not comfortable with.”

“But,” you sniff, guiltily averting his gaze, “this fucks everything up. Everything’s about to change.”

Joel takes a long, slow breath. “It complicates some things, that’s for sure.” He looks out to the street; Alice Brown now hauling weeds from the edge of her lawn. In his exhale, he breathes a name.

“V…What?”

He looks down. Eyes dance around your damp cheeks. “Vanessa,” he says, clearer now.

“Vanessa?”

A nod. His nose wriggles with an awkward sniff. You push off from his chest.

“Who the hell is Vanessa?”

Joel lets you go; lets you step back. He watches as you brace yourself against the ledge. Runs a hand through his hair while he fixes the right order of words. He’s thinking. Carefully.

Too fucking carefully. He’s taking too long.

“Joel. Who’s Vanessa?”

“She’s…” He sighs. “She’s my ex. From Tommy’s wedding. Vanessa Hart.”

Your jaw slackens. The purple dress. The hair like silk, a halo around her head where the light kissed her perfectly. Her plump lips; the way her head tipped back to laugh. The amount of air you felt her take up the second you laid eyes on her, the second you saw her, arm on top of Joel’s.

“Vanessa,” you whisper, your eyes descending his frame. The memory feels menacing now: her sweet giggle a sneering cackle, and you’ve no idea why. The bulky jewels around her neck, her clawed fingers on his arm.

Joel’s hand sits inches from yours on the wooden sill. Alice is walking back inside.

“We, uh…we swapped numbers the morning after the wedding, at breakfast. I didn’t think much of it, but we’ve seen each other a couple times since.”

This isn’t the time for another it’s a date, it’s not a date argument. What the fuck does he mean by –

“Seen each other?”

“Mhm.” He owes you better than that. He reckons so, too. “Dates,” he clarifies. “We’ve been on a couple dates.”

“Oh.”

Your heart falls to the pit of your stomach. Plummets, dragging with it your breath and your nerve and any other words you can think of. Your chest gnaws at the edges of the cavity left behind. It hurts. It stings.

Though you’ve no right for it to hurt or sting: as far as you were concerned, as far as you think Joel was concerned, that night was a one-off. It meant as little as the alcohol draining from your glasses, the vacant buzz of love and hope loose in the air. Equally as intoxicating as each other.

Cataclysmic, for the first little while. So heavily awkward that you would wait to watch Joel head out in the morning, clear of your path, before you’d set off for work. It felt like the aftermath of some natural disaster – the cleanup of debris and mistake.

But oh, it feels like a punch to the gut. Low, unexpected; a foul move by someone who never meant to hurt or not hurt you. Someone ignorant to every move he made, right up to this moment.

Your arms wrap around your body again, as though tending to the bruise left by the sucker punch shaped something like that tall woman named Vanessa.

Joel scratches the back of his neck. “We were…we were seein’ about starting things up again. Me ‘n her.”

“Yeah,” you nod, “I got you. That’s – I mean, I’m – I’m sorry, Joel, I –”

“Woah, woah,” he’s stepping forward now, “hey, no. No way. This wasn’t you. Well, shoot – it kinda was you. But it was just as much me, right?”

You smile, your face back in the safe hold of his hands. Tears roll down your cheeks, collecting in the corners of your mouth. His thumbs swipe them away.

“This was just as much me,” he repeats, voice soft and soothing.

“But, you know – if you wanted to – just ‘cause I don’t want to get – so if you didn’t wanna have to – that’d be okay, you know that, right?”

His head snaps back, brows low. It’s the first time he looks like his cool has broken all morning. It’s the first time he looks…downright offended. “Are you kidding me?” he asks, and then, “Tell me you’re kidding.”

“I just – I know this ain’t ideal. It’s even worse if you’re tryna make it work with Vanessa. So if you felt like it was too much, then…”

Joel shakes his head. “Shut up,” he says, edged with some kind of groan. “Stop talking, right now. Stop. You gotta take a deep breath, alright? I’m here, ‘n I mean I’m here. We’re in this together. I am not running out on you.”

“Joel –”

What was a mere crack in his cool before, rips through it now like lightning spreading across the sky. He closes his eyes, a sigh escaping between his teeth. “If you think I would leave you right now, to deal with this on your own –”

“I don’t,” you tell him, his vexation powering your sudden animation. You wipe your tears away, shaking your head. “I’m just saying, it’s a fucking lot. I don’t want you to feel trapped. I’m giving you an out, man.”

“I am not interested in taking it. Enough. Conversation over.”

“And what about Vanessa?”

“What about her?” he asks, the question dripping in something akin to anger. He catches himself, draws it back in. “She’ll just – We’ll talk, I’ll explain it. The hell else can we do? One thing at a time, okay?”

“Right,” you nod, “okay. One thing at a time.”

“Let’s just build these damn wardrobes. I sure as hell didn’t lug all that timber over here to not do ‘em.”

“Okay,” you repeat, making for the door.

“Ah.” He clicks, and you turn back. “Where the hell do you think you’re goin’?”

“To get the timber.”

“I don’t think so,” he says, pointing to your bed. “Sit down. Relax. You ain’t getting a damn thing.”

Joel calls it a day at six o’clock.

The skeleton of the closet is up: a smooth, tan frame lining one wall of your room. Much bigger, much sturdier than its predecessor.

You’re in the same spot he left you in: lying across your bed, admiring his handiwork. He’s good at what he does. You told him twice, and the two of you almost heaved both times. Compliments aren’t something you’re used to handing one another.

He left, maybe, three hours ago. Said he had to shower; said he’d be back first thing to finish the job. You sat up to see him out, got struck by a wave of nausea so bad that you fell back to the bed with one hand on your stomach and the other over your lips, and Joel had insisted – demanded – that you stay where you were.

I’ll be back later to check on ya, he assured, setting a glass of water at your bedside. And then he told you to call him if you felt even remotely off – sick, or panicked, or had a tickle in your throat that you couldn’t clear – and that’s when the two of you realized that you don’t even have one another’s numbers.

And you laughed, the both of you; laughed at the absurdity of you carrying his child when you don’t even carry his contact details in your phone. Laughed at how quickly everything has turned one hundred and eighty degrees in the few hours since you woke up. It felt like some form of release, the only way to clear the blockage of tension in both your throats. So, you laughed, until you felt sick again, and Joel swept the hair from your shoulders to cool you down.

The attentiveness is…new. It’s interesting. It’s kind, in the same way that being told to say hi to whoever your grandma is talking to in the grocery store, is kind. Sweet, the same way that answering the door on Halloween to a bunch of kids you don’t know from a street you don’t recognize the name of, is sweet.

Whatever. It’s fucking weird, alright?

You’ve never seen this side of Joel. You didn’t know or even think, in your wildest dreams, that he existed. Let’s face it: you two have spent the entirety of your inhabitance next door to one another, antagonizing each other. Your favorite hobby has always been pissing Joel off – teasing him for having backache, seeing how far down his porch you can launch his newspaper and he’ll still go get it. Playing the same kind of music you heard him playing on his guitar that one time, full-volume from your kitchen window just to fuck with him.

And, likewise: his favorite hobby has always been…well, ignoring you. Doing everything he can not to engage. If it weren’t for that fucking cat lady and her jittery green Chevrolet, none of this would’ve ever happened. She was a catalyst where one was neither needed nor wanted. You would’ve gone about your life, pinning your underwear only slightly more carefully to your clothesline, and Joel would’ve gone about his, doing – whatever the fuck he does.

Sure, it’s weird. But it’s nice. It’s nice to have him on your side, turning to check on you rather than snap at you for something. Nice to have him talk – actual, rounded words in place of grumbles and mumbles and groans and sighs. Nice to hang out with him and watch him work and ask questions about screws and power tools and pretend to be interested just to distract from the weight of queasiness in your stomach.

Your hands trail down, cupping around your navel. Your stomach still feels like your stomach: still soft, still spongey under your touch. If not for the two more tests you’d taken this afternoon, perched on the bathroom counter waiting for Joel to unstick his gaze from his watch and announce, That’s three minutes – both also positive, by the way – you’d have no fucking clue.

You hold the bottom half of your tummy, fingers rubbing gently over the skin that will soon enough grow and swell and protect.

“Hey,” you whisper, staring at the stationary ceiling fan overhead. A pause. An awkward inhale. “…hey, little buddy. I don’t – know you very well, yet. I figure you can’t even fucking hear me, but whatever. Just wanted to say hi. I’m – Ew, no. I’m not Mom, yet. What the fuck. I don’t know who I am right now, so just…maybe go easy on me until I figure that part out. And after, too. Alright? Are we…we cool?

“You can’t tell me, I know. I just have to assume we’re cool. Okay. Well. Keep growin’. Keep…doing your thing. You’re doing great. We’re doing – we’re doing alright.

“Good job, kid. Good job.”

Joel tells Vanessa two days later. She takes it…about as well as you might hope.

He says they talked for four hours. Three cups of coffee and a drive to Taco Bell later, she agreed to meet you. Properly. Not across the cluttered dancefloor of Tommy’s wedding.

She –? Is – is that a good idea?

I don’t know, kid. It’s the best I’ve got.

Meet me? Like, come kick my ass for sleeping with her boyfriend?

Joel had sighed and deadened his eyes on yours. Not her boyfriend, he corrected, passing you a sweater folded a little slapdash for your liking, and wasn’t her boyfriend when we slept together.

You shook the sweater straight again and fixed his work, muttering to yourself that at least he’s a better builder than he is a folder.

Joel heard you, and let it go. Passed you another – unfolded – sweater to sit in your wardrobe. Let’s just see how it goes, alright?

Alright.

We’re really trying this again. It’s only been a couple weeks.

Okay.

And neither of us have had much luck in that department since we broke it off, y’know?

Joel. I said okay.

He held your gaze a moment too long. Okay.

You’re on your porch when he strolls over, wrist blocking the six o’clock sun from his eyes. Newspaper in his fist, wind licking the corners. “Forget somethin’ today?” he asks, meeting you at the top of the steps.

“Came out to get it,” you brace yourself on the railing, “felt sick. This is me workin’ up to it.”

“You want me to toss it back onto my lawn so you can go fetch me it?”

You smile, eyes screwing shut. “Was coming over to ask what time for tomorrow.”

The reminder snaps him from his happy daydream. He says, “I was comin’ to ask you the same thing. Seven work?”

“Seven’s good. Are we getting food?”

“You wanna get food? I figured maybe you wouldn’t be up for it, what with the, uh…” Joel gestures to your hunched position, your head low between your shoulders, your deep, deliberate breaths.

“Maybe just drinks,” you utter, gulping back the sharp taste of bile.

He nods. “Drinks it is. You okay? You need anything?”

“I’m good. Thanks. See you guys at seven.”

Four minutes early, there’s a knock at your door. You pull it open, and there they are. Picture-perfect, like they might be posing for a holiday card. A bottle in his arm, a bunch of flowers in hers. A timid but genial smile between her cheeks, a twinkle in her eye. That same circle of shining light around her head, brunette tresses curled into bouncing waves.

“Howdy,” Joel says, stepping into the space you create. He dips his head, kisses your cheek, whispers a brief, Y’okay? in your ear. You nod quickly, gently shifting him out of the way.

Vanessa lingers for a moment in the doorway. She glances from Joel to you again, blinking in the porch light. Her pale skin lit in an ethereal glow. She’s prettier up close.

Joel addresses you, hand brushing the small of your back, “…this is Vanessa.”

“Hi,” she says, and pushes the flowers towards you – a small bouquet of gypsophila and eucalyptus. Bright, polite. Each sprig laden with the burden of appearing simpatico, but important. Meaningful, in the airiest sense of the word. “Hi,” again.

“Hi,” you echo, and then feel stupid for having nothing more to offer. You can feel Joel’s eyes on you, hot on your shoulder.

But Vanessa takes the weight from your chest. “It’s nice to meet you – officially. I saw you at Tommy and Maria’s wedding. You looked so beautiful.”

“Thanks,” springs from your tongue sooner than the rest of the sentence. Your brain scrams to find more words. “You looked – you looked great, too. Do you wanna –? I mean – Sorry. Come in. Obviously.”

She clicks over the threshold, her pale dress floating into your hallway like she’s part of a dream. She’s just as beautiful in this light, relaxed form – pastel blue and the glimmer of golden jewelry – as she was in the sleeker, more dramatic form you saw her in before. An aura about her which captures and tends to your attention. Intense, captivating, but not intimidating.

You usher them to the living room, offer them a space on the couch while you take Vanessa’s flowers to the kitchen. Joel follows you through, sets the bottle on the counter.

“Nonalcoholic,” he says, unscrewing the cap.

Your eyebrows jump. “Great. Thanks.”

“She’s nervous,” he murmurs, leaning in. “I know you are, too. Y’all are similar like that.”

You slot the stems into a vase of water one by one, carefully organizing a display. “She seems sweet,” you assure him. “She shouldn’t be nervous.”

“Neither should you.”

“Is this…totally weird for you?”

Joel breathes in deep, filling three glasses. “Yeah,” he says, eyes never lifting from the sparkling peach.

“Sorry.”

He angles his jaw. “Stop sayin’ you're sorry. I’ll kick your ass.”

Your head drops between your shoulders, eyes lifting only to his elbows. “Sorry.”

He scoffs, swiping the glasses and stepping back to let you out first.

“I’m trying not to make it weird,” you offer, slipping by.

“I don’t want you to try anything.” He kicks your ankle lightly and follows you back into the living room.

Vanessa sits forward and clasps her hands around her knee when you sit back down, shifting as though to reach for you before she stops herself. “How are you feeling? Joel said you’re a little…worse for wear, right now.”

“I’ve been better,” you say, smiling. “Just morning sickness. Which lasts – all day.”

She nods sympathetically. “My sister had it rough with her first. I actually…” She twists around, reaches for her purse, fishes out an orange packet. “I brought you some ginger tea. Kate told me it helped her a lot, so.”

She holds it out in almost trembling fingers. Likewise, you steady yours to take it from her, thanking her with a shy nod of the head. “That’s so kind,” you reply quietly, eyes darting to Joel. He’s staring at the pack in your hands, watching as you turn it over to read the back.

“And – listen,” Vanessa continues, the acceptance of her offering clearly fueling her assuredness, “I don’t want anything to be weird – between you and I, between you and Joel. I know this situation is…new. It’s, um…”

“It’s kinda weird,” you say, humoring. “It’s okay. I know.”

She breathes a relieved laugh. “It is. Thank God you said it.” She glances back at Joel, who smiles at her, slips his hand onto her knee. “But I guess,” a deep breath, “I guess it is what it is. And we’re all adults, you know? We can make it work, right?”

Your head switches rapidly between nodding enthusiastically and shaking enthusiastically. “Yeah. Yes. No, absolutely. And, you know, me and Joel – there isn’t – we’re not at all…”

“Oh,” she bats the idea away, “I know. I know that. He told me everything. It’s – You know, it’s just a timing thing.”

Joel’s staring down at his hand locked around her leg. Unblinking. Unmoving. His expression doesn’t shift until the two of you settle back into your seats; until Vanessa asks if he’d mind making you a cup of ginger tea.

You barely notice his absence, the way she takes you up in conversation. Like twirling you off in some kind of dance, each sentence strung safely to the next. There are no lulls, no awkward pauses. She asks about work, asks about your family. She tells you stories about her niece, who’s three now, and compares how you’re feeling to how she remembers her sister feeling.

Then her work, and the IT guy her friend hooked up with, and her class at the gym which she’s trying to convince Joel to come along to, and Kate’s hot yoga class every Thursday night, and the new sushi place which just opened downtown and You gotta try it some day; the nigiri is divine.

And you nod along, and you laugh at her anecdotes and tell your own, and Joel tells her to tell you about the jazz band who were playing at the restaurant they visited a couple weeks ago, and you offer to top her drink up and she says she’ll do it herself and she leaves you and Joel alone for the first time all evening, and – it’s weird.

Because – behind the veil of conversation you’re doing your best to uphold, sits an image of this very night – only, in Joel’s house. In Joel’s house, on Joel’s couch, drinking nonalcoholic wine with Joel’s brother. Joel and Vanessa leant against one another on one couch, Tommy and Maria on the other.

You can’t help it – you’re wondering what Maria thinks of Vanessa. How long they knew each other, if at all, before the breakup. Whether they hung out, whether they discussed sushi and yoga, or the housing market, or their Miller boyfriends and their annoying Miller habits.

Maria would’ve liked her, you think. Would’ve found her as lovely as you do. And the idea, the image of them giggling together at family parties and being Tommy’s Maria and Joel’s Vanessa – presses a firm, bullying finger into the bruise you thought had faded some from the other day.

And once they’re gone, once you’re left alone again – lying in still silence, closed in on yourself by the thick darkness of your room, nothing but you and your thoughts and your unborn child for company – it slips out.

“Fuck her, right?” You hold your hands out, addressing your stomach. “She was so fucking nice. Did you like her? Fuck me, I liked her. I hope they break up.”

And then, realizing who you’re talking to: “No. Sorry, baby, no. I don’t hope they break up. I want your dad to be really happy. But – Goddamn. She was so sweet. I thought she was gonna slap me, and she just – she brought ginger tea! Fuck. They look good together, don’t they?”

It’s just hormones. Just the emotional trip that is being four weeks pregnant. Everybody feels like this when they fall pregnant – sensitive, vulnerable, clingy. Right? Right?

Your words sit stagnant in midair. You swear you can see them, heavy and intruding. Awkwardly lingering someplace they don’t belong. Because none of it even matters – the hormones, the emotions. The weird knot burning a hole in your chest, shaped like a clenched fist, knuckles branded by the heat of longing. It can’t matter.

You’re where you are, he’s where he is. A pillow in your arm, Vanessa in his. Feet apart, bricks and mortar and something like twenty years and two dates too late separating you.

Both staring up at the ceiling, wondering who the other’s thinking of.

“At eight weeks, your baby is roughly the size of a raspberry.”

Your knee bounces, breath coming and going in shaky ripples. The rubber sole of your shoe cries against the sterilized hospital floor. Your chest hums anxiously and your throat catches when you swallow and are the lights too bright? The room too hot? You’re sweating. Why are you sweating? Can you breathe right now?

Joel nudges your arm and your eyes roll to the pamphlet in his hand, his finger tracing the words. “C��mon,” he utters, leaning in, “how can anything the size of a raspberry be scary?”

You squint under fluorescent white. “A raspberry that grows into the size of a watermelon, can break my ribs, make me throw up, make me lose hair, and then tear my vagina apart on its way out? That’s pretty scary.”

He smirks. “Not to me it ain’t. My vagina stays perfectly intact the entire time.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you reply, whacking him.

He laughs, swatting your palm away, keeping ahold of your fingers inside his own. “Speaking of – we gotta talk.” He elbows you, waiting until you’re looking again to speak. “We gotta cut the language.”

“Cut the language?”

“Uhuh. Rein it in. And by we, I mean you.”

“Uh,” you scoff, “I don’t think so. When you do the growing, then you can rein your own swearing in. Leave me alone, asshole.”

“Charming,” Joel says. “You know the baby can hear you? You want it to come out swearin’ like a trooper?”

You grin, tipping your head to him. “If it comes out and says anything, we’re rich. So – yeah. Let it.”

He opens his mouth to reply when a nurse emerges from a nearby room and calls your name.

“You’re up, kid,” Joel says, standing beside you.

You turn back, speaking before your brain settles on words. “I’m scared.”

“Hey,” he says, taking your hand. He squeezes it gently, uses the other to keep you facing him. “This is the easy part, right? We’re just going to meet them.”

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, and wander over to meet the nurse. Joel’s hand a vice grip around yours.

She leads you into a similarly washed-out clinic room, only slightly dimmer with the lights turned out, and yanks a roll of paper across the bed. Tapping it twice, she smiles. “Hop up, darlin’.”

You settle into the crinkly paper, leaning back until you’re blinking up at the speckled ceiling. Another door opens and a woman in a white coat floats in, and you swear that if it weren’t for Joel’s Evenin’, ma’am when she greets the two of you, you’d believe she were a figment of your imagination. Another character in this fucking insane dream.

“Not often I do these past five o’clock,” she says, clicking her mouse and typing on her keyboard and fixing a hair grip back into her bun. Casual. It’s not even a thing to her, introducing parents and children. She does this all fucking day.

Joel tosses half a glance to you and then realizes you’re not currently in the room. He pinches your hand again. It grounds you for all of two seconds.

“Yeah, uh,” he clears his throat, “work commitment. I couldn’t get away any earlier, so we’re havin’ to do this a little late.”

“What do you do?” she asks, staring at her screen. Her glossy brown eyes and rich, dark skin.

“I’m a contractor,” Joel replies, thumb stroking your shoulder.

Something bubbles in your stomach, something akin to jealousy, an urgency to tell her that right now, in this room, he’s mine. No more questions. Something which quickly dissipates when you remind yourself to quit being fucking ridiculous and that right now, in this room, he’s someone else’s, and the thumb on your shoulder is merely to hold you back from fleeing. Nothing more.

The sonographer nods. Her name badge reads Freya. Pretty name. Stop picturing what your kid would look like as a Freya. You are not naming them after the first sonographer you meet.

“Shouldn’t be too long, then y’all can get home for the night. You live nearby?”

“Twenty minutes’ drive. Not far, are we?” Joel asks you.

Your eyes shoot down to his. “No,” you push your cheeks up, telling Freya, “not far.”

She flattens her lips against one another, lending you a sympathetic smile. “You got nothing to worry about, honey. Promise. Gel might be a little cold, that’s about as scary as this gets. We’re just gonna make sure everything’s looking good, check your dates, check your measurements. You’re doing great.”

“You hear that?” Joel murmurs, settling down into the chair by your side. His hand hasn’t left yours. His voice is low, meant just for you, when he repeats, “You’re doin’ great.”

You huff a laugh, some nervous release from your lungs.

Freya smiles, face lit by the faint glow of the screen in front of her. “We ready?”

You roll the hem of your tee up when she motions, bunching it under the wire of your bra. She squeezes a bottle over your stomach, which tenses solid when the frozen bite of gel curls right below your belly button. Freya smiles apologetically when you wince. Told you, she murmurs, and your breath escapes in a slightly more comfortable laugh. Lighter, easier. Scariest part over.

She presses the probe to your skin and spreads the gel, coating the bottom of your tummy in a slippery slick which tickles with each inch she covers. Two buttons pressed, and a dark image appears on a screen opposite you.

A gray fan, speckled like the ceiling above your head. Dark, black shapes growing and shrinking at the turn of Freya’s wrist. She pauses, two blobs onscreen: the larger, black, round, home to a smaller, misshapen one. Flecked with white and silver and moving slowly, gently, but – right there.

“Mom, Dad,” she grins, “meet your baby.”

You and Joel move forward at the same time, drawn closer to the crunchy image as if by some kind of natural magnetism. Eyes never blinking, lips agape. The shapes flutter, the smaller dipping in and out of view.

“You see right here, right in the center?” A white cross appears over the blob’s middle. “That little movement? The kinda – pulsing?”

You each nod. Your nails dig so deep into Joel’s hand that you risk drawing blood.

“That’s the heart. Ticking away.”

“The heart?” you ask, watching the rhythmic flicker in the center of the screen.

“Yep. Perfect, too.”

She hits another key and suddenly the room is filled with a muffled thudding; a steady, energetic pulse in your ears. It matches the movements onscreen, the tiny throb of the baby’s chest, the shape of your womb moving like waves before you.

And suddenly, it's real – all of it: the screen and the room and the sonographer and you, and Joel’s hand encasing yours, holding your knuckles to his lips, and –

And the heartbeat. Right there, right in front of you. Shy, probably as nervous as you are to introduce themselves. Feeling your eyes on them, curled up somewhere safe inside you. Right there.

You turn to Joel, and his illuminated face is staring straight at the screen. Eyes soaked with tears, blinking as they form, cheeks dappled with wet. He draws his eyes from his child only to look back at you, only to mirror your stunned smile, your disbelieving laugh, more tears dripping down into his beard. He sits up, presses his damp lips firmly to your forehead.

Freya mutes the heartbeat, pauses the scan where the image is clearest, and sits back. “I’ll give you guys a moment to yourselves,” she says, wheeling back in her chair. “Take all the time you need. I’m right outside.”

“Thanks,” Joel mumbles for the both of you, sweeping hair from your face.

The door closes on your little bubble – you, Joel, and the grainy image of your baby. The evidence that – yeah, that night happened, and yeah, you’re forever changed because of it. The evidence that you’re about to become a mom, for real, no matter how much the thought makes you feel like your stomach is kicking around at your ankles.

And the evidence that, no matter how scared you might be, how unprepared and unworthy you feel – you fucking adore that little blob already.

Love it as much as Joel does, stood over you, kissing your hair and whispering words you’re only half-listening to. A quiet thank you, a shaky I can’t believe it. Something about showing his brother. And when you look up at him, blinking at one another, inches apart – he takes your jaw in his hands and lowers his lips to yours.

Different. Softer. No want laced through. No urgency. Nothing needed, nor requested, that isn’t already right here in this little bubble of yours.

He kisses you slowly, eyes closed, holding you until you pull away for breath. His nose bumps against yours and you laugh, heads together, eyes low.

“Still scared?” he whispers.

“Terrified,” you tell him.

“Me, too,” he says, and kisses you again.

You lean back against the bed, relief settling your bones and soothing your heartbeat. The notion washes over you that, if you could, you’d stay in this room forever. Staring at the screen, holding Joel’s hand. Whispering fears into his mouth and letting him swallow them in a kiss.

He hands you some paper towel and helps you drag it across your stomach, your eyes still fixed on the little shape opposite. He hooks his chin over your head – the fresh, woody smell of his cologne infiltrating your lungs and throwing you under the haze of something you’re not quite sure how to define.

“Duck,” he says, voice vibrating into your skull.

“Huh?”

“Start saying duck. Make the baby think we’re saying that, then you can say –” he lowers his voice, “– fuck, all you want.”

“The hell would I have to say duck for?”

Joel stands upright and shrugs. “I don’t know. Think of somethin’. A nickname, maybe.”

“Duck?”

He nods plainly, glancing over to the screen.

The pillow beneath your head sighs as you turn from Joel back to the ultrasound. “Baby Duck,” you offer, and he smiles.

Smiles in a way you don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile. Eyes glistening, cheeks swollen. Something innocent and earnest about it. Something pure.

He agrees. “Baby Duck it is.”

Joel insists that you spend the night at his place.

“It’s been a big day,” he reasons, fixing the bed in his guestroom. “Just – let me run around after you for a little bit.”

You fight your corner as much as you can be bothered – I gotta maintain my independence, I’m gonna be a single mom soon enough, you know – but, truthfully, you’ll take any excuse to have him rush around at your beck and call. Some days you open your mouth and he hears the wet click of saliva between your lips, and grabs a glass of water for you before you’ve even voiced the request.

He orders takeout, settles shoulder-to-shoulder with you on the couch, and lets you pick whichever movie you feel like putting him through until the food’s gone, he’s out of beer, and you’ve abandoned Heath Ledger and Julia Stiles for an argument about the best part of pizza.

You don’t like the crust?

Nope.

What fuckin’ age are you?

If it ain’t stuffed, it’s just not worth it.

At eleven, you bid him goodnight and wander upstairs, falling into a sea of navy-blue sheets to be delivered to sleep by the serene silence of Joel’s home. It takes no time for your eyes to flutter closed, the soft sheen of moonlight painted across the wall, sweeping from your view to be replaced in a whir by –

Lights. Overhead and all around and so bright and so close that you swear they’re etched on the inside of your eyelids.

You’re in the backseat, watching them soar by in blurs of white and red and amber and green, and your pulse is rattling through your veins and throbbing between your temples and you can’t focus on any one object for longer than three seconds, before your eyes roll and your head dizzies.

A word, slung from your lips in a half-wakened attempt to stop it. A word you barely recognize at first, don’t understand the meaning of. It’s been years. Why now? Mom.

You’re not sure why, or who you’re even reaching out to. There are two figures in the front seats, heads facing forward. She’s not turning around. She’s not even fucking moving, not reacting to the speed or the lights or your voice. Mom.

You scream it, the syllable ripping violently from your throat, and your tiny fingers reach for her swirls of hair. You pause, staring at the chipped polish on your stubby, kiddy nails. Mom, I’m scared.

The distorted blast of a horn scoops the car up in one motion, hurtling over itself along the freeway. You’re thrown to the roof of the car, plummet back down to your seat; the seatbelt throttles you, rips a burn deep into the skin of your neck. Back up again; your head hits the spongey roof of the car. Your stomach somersaults.

Mom, please, you wail, swiping for her hand. It’s lying limp by her thigh, dark droplets on her wrist. Mom Mom please Mom I’m scared Mom please I’m so scared I –

“Baby.”

His voice is low, earthy. It chews apart the high-pitched squeal of brakes and screaming. The glass smashing. The metal crunching.

You lift from the bed like it’s ice water, gasping when you finally surface back on Earth. Your chest heaves, it’s not sucking in enough breath; you can’t breathe you can’t breathe you can’t fucking breathe.

Joel whips the cover from your legs and you roll from the mattress, feet planting on the floor. You bend forward to grip onto the sheets, a choking rising up your throat, closer and closer until it tugs on your tongue.

“Icantbreathe,” you pant.

Joel’s body curves around yours. “You’re alright,” he’s telling you – urging you; one hand between your shoulder blades, the other holding your wrist for fear you might collapse. “I’m here, you’re okay. You’re at my place, you’re safe, but, kid – I need you to slow down. You’re hyperventilating.”

You work your breathing to the strokes of his hand up and down your spine: in out in out in and out and in and out and in, and out, and in, and…out…and in…and…out.

“That’s it. Keep doing that. You’re good, baby, I got you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

In – and out. In – and out again.

The room slowly desaturates back into boring, moonlit blue. Feeling sputters back into your hands, clawing at the sheets once the sharpness dissolves. The cotton pets back, smooth under your quivering touch. Your lips stop tingling, your ears stop ringing. One after another, until your blood settles back to a steady stream and you straighten up.

“Can you sit down for me?”

“No,” you whimper, and Joel nods.

“That’s alright,” he says. “I’m gonna get you a drink, that okay?”

You grab his T-shirt. “No. Don’t leave me. Please. Sorry.”

He cups your frozen cheeks. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere. Just downstairs. You can come.”

He settles you at his kitchen table and shuffles over to the cupboards, rubbing his eyes. You feel the heat of embarrassment and guilt, watching as he settles down with a groan minutes later.

“Ginger,” he tells you, voice rounded by his mug, sliding one of your own over to you.

“Sorry,” you mumble, lifting it with two hands. The smell sharp, cutting up the remnants of gasoline and smoke.

“Many times do I gotta say it?” he asks dryly. “Quit sayin’ you’re sorry.”

You gulp nervously. “You got work in the morning. You’re gonna be exhausted.”

“And if I hadn’t let you keep me up watchin’ chick flicks, I’d be rested. That’s something I can deal with later. I got you to worry about right now.”

You shake your head; the ceramic hits the table with a sharp thud. “I don’t want you to worry about me.”

“Well,” Joel sniffs, “you’re carrying my child. I’ll always worry about you.”

You sit back, the curve of the chair cradling, your heart beating lamely against the wood. Joel’s jaw rests in the cushion of his palm, staring back at you.

“What time is it?” you ask, and he glances over his shoulder.

“Three. Take a sip.”

“I’m fine.”

“Sip.”

You obey, lifting the tea and swallowing harshly.

He watches every move, every shift reflected in his dark eyes, decorated by a tense, stony expression. “Does this happen a lot?”

“Never,” you say. “This never happens.”

Joel cranes his jaw, cracks his neck. “Alright,” he sighs, “that’s okay. Breathe again. You’re doing fine.”

But you don’t feel fine. The dregs of panic sizzle into something thicker, hotter. Anger. Frustration. “Why the fuck is this happening?” you hiss, fingers prodding into your eye sockets. “What the f–?”

“Easy. I don’t know. Hormones? Stress?”

“You sound like my fucking doctor.”

Joel smiles. Amusement, before concern wipes over it again. “Let’s just give it some time to pass, okay?”

You nod, hanging over your drink, the silhouette of your reflection staring back at you. The steam snakes up, seeping into your skin, bubbling under the surface. Wiping clean any memory of freeway or nail polish, like coating over a bathroom mirror. The shapes still visible behind, but blurred. Gone.

“How’s Vanessa?” you ask, an attempt to distract yourself.

Joel adjusts a little awkwardly in his chair. “She’s good. She loved the scan photo. Showed it to her sister. They’re sure it’s a boy.”

“Ha. Joel Jr.”

“Joel Jr.,” he agrees, and then attempts to distract himself. “So,” he says, “Allandale.”

“Mhm?”

“Wonder if I ever saw your mom or dad. When I was there visitin’ Sam.”

You shrug. “Doubt it. I mean, they always lived right next to the elementary school, if that helps. My mom was a first-grade teacher. The two of us used to walk there ‘n back together, every day.”

“First grade, huh? Best one.”

“Yeah. Yeah, and she was the best of the best. She used to go all out for her kids; used to go to Michaels and get all this crafty stuff so they could spend all afternoon making little houses or zoos, or – whatever she could think of. And she’d always keep some aside, bring some home for me to make one, too. One time, she came home with all this blue tissue paper and little foam fish, and we made an aquarium together.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Joel says.

“Yeah,” you say again, nodding eagerly. “She was so cool. And fun, y’know? I just remember her being so much fun. I always felt safe with her, felt loved. I actually used to think she hung the sun every morning, just for me.” You take a deep breath, replacing it with a broken sigh.

“What about your dad? What was he like?”

You frown. “He was…fine. Real quiet, reserved. A little grumpy, I guess. I always got the idea he couldn’t be bothered with me, young as I was. Always wanted to be left alone. I think my mom overcompensated a lot.”

Something flashes across Joel’s face that seems to say he knows – or, at least, he understands. Almost imperceptible, a quick flicker of annoyance. “You miss her?” he asks, switching back.

“My mom?” You almost laugh, gripping onto your mug. Staring at the slow swirl of ginger. A shrug which presents more like a flinch; an animal swatting a fly away. “I miss those parts, when I think of them. The aquarium, the walking to school. Miss the memories. But I don’t think I knew her well enough or long enough to miss her.

“I’ve lived way longer without her than I ever had her. Done everything without her, like –” gesturing down, “– this. But, sometimes…sometimes, I bundle the sheets up behind my back in bed, and I pretend it’s her. Pretend I have a mom, and she’s cuddling me to sleep. I dunno. Maybe that’s what missing her feels like.”

Joel soaks in every word you say, letting the shape of each one settle on the table between you before he speaks again. Letting them be spoken into the dead of night, collected by no one, and letting them fade into silence. Secrets sweeping off into starlight. Nothing you would admit in the daytime.

“What was her name?” he asks, voice timid and gentle in the dark kitchen.

You almost choke on your tea. “Shoot – I’m sorry. That was a lot. Sorry. She, uh – Her name?”

It brings the first genuine smile to your lips; the memory of your mom now clear behind your eyes. Her round cheeks, her fluttering earrings. The deep, dark curls of her hair, thick ringlets twisting and lighting in the sun. The gap between her front teeth, the purse of her lips as she kissed your cheeks, your hands, your tummy.

Her name like a melody in your head; a safe word, a calming mantra when the world becomes too noisy, too saturated, too sharp to bear. Two syllables. Two little beats, like a piece of her still lives in the sound of her name.

“Sarah,” you tell Joel. “Her name was Sarah.”

[beenbaanbuun]

the bed w/ jongho

words - 🤠

genre - fluff/friends to lovers

warnings - pure fluff, nothing else

“why are you in my bed,” jongho grumbles as he storms through his bedroom door

he kicks his shoes off, not paying any attention to where they land before crawling onto the bed himself

you’d spread yourself out in the centre of it, leaving very little space for your friend in his own bed

he makes do, though, throwing himself over your stomach and pinning you to the bed

you groan as he knocks the wind out of you, but all does is chuckle

“actually, scratch that,” he says as he tries his hardest to got comfortable, “what are you doing in my apartment? you don’t have a key.”

he finds it hard to find a good spot to lay since there’s a literal body beneath him, so instead he sits up and tries his hardest to shove you to the side

you resist, but eventually roll over when his finger pokes a particularly ticklish spot in your side

he goes to get comfy, making sure to pull one of his pillows free from beneath your head and put it beneath his own

you punch his arm as payment; it doesn’t hurt him, he just laughs

“found your spare key under your doormat,” you say as if it’s as simple as that, “you need to find a better place to hide that, by the way.”

he repeats your words in a mocking tone, rolling his eyes in an exaggerated manner

“sure, but why are you in my bed?”

“it’s comfier than mine,” you shrug, laughing at the exasperated sigh he gives you, “besides, it’s not like you were using it while you were at work.”

“and maybe if you had a job you wouldn’t feel the need to come to my apartment and nap in my bed when you could be at work,” he teases

now it’s your turn to roll your eyes

you shove him slightly, in response to the poor taste joke, but he knows you’re not really mad

you never are when it comes to him…

something about the way he taunts you makes you light up inside

maybe it’s the way he giggles at you when you get annoyed, face lighting up in glee, or perhaps you just like it when he pays you attention

either way, you hope it never stops

“i’m trying to get a job,” you reply, seriousness lacing itself in your voice, “i had an interview this morning actually.”

he turns to look at you with surprise on his face

“you never told me,” he says with a minuscule pout, and you realise the shock on his face is more to do with the fact it was hidden from him than anything else

you look away, not wanting to force yourself into seeing the hurt that’s swimming in his eyes

all this over a job interview? weird, you think to yourself

“i wanted it to be a surprise if i got the job,” you mumble, “but i kind of fumbled so i don’t think i did.”

you’d never tell him, but it’s actually your disappointment at your own failure that led you to your best friend’s bed

the comfort it brought you to slide one of his hoodies over your head and surround yourself in the familiar scent of his bedding was better than the comfort you gained from anything else

the knowledge that jongho would be there soon to comfort you, unknowingly picking up the pieces of your shattered ego, was nice

his presence was your safe place, even when that presence was just the smell of him ingrained in his sheets

“you fumbled?” he clarifies, “how so?”

he opens his arms to invite you closer; it’s an opportunity you jump at, shuffling until you’re close enough for his arms to circle your body

“i kept answering their questions weirdly,” you say as you press your face into his chest, “but in my defence, their questions were dumb.”

he chuckles, and the sound rumbles through him

“you don’t need to defend yourself to me,” his voice sounds deeper when you hear it through his chest, “i know you’re trying your hardest.”

a hand comes into contact with the back of your head, gently patting at it as if he’s trying to soothe you

you almost tell him that you don’t need soothing, but the sensation is nice so you let him continue

“i am trying hard,” you sigh, “and i wish they could see that rather than just seeing all the stupid answers i give them! they probably think i have negative braincells…”

jongho can’t help but heartily laugh at that

he clutches onto you as the sound rings through the air, effectively pinning you to his body

you can’t help but be happy that he’s not one of those people that slap things when they laugh…

“i also think you have negative braincells,” he says through his giggles, “but that doesn’t stop me from thinking you’re a great person that’s worthy of employment.”

for what seems like the hundredth time, you hit his arm

“i got higher than you in school, dickwad!”

you only scored higher by a margin, but you still did better than him and therefore have eternal bragging - or in this case defending - rights

the playful arguing doesn’t go much further than that

in fact the two of you fall into a peaceful silence pretty quickly, the only sound that fills your brain is jongho’s heartbeat; strong and stable, just like he is

just likes he’s always been, actually, ever since the two of you were just kids playing in each other’s back yards

he tried to teach you football when you were both young, but ended up kicking the ball too hard and bruising your shin

even at the age of 7 he was so willing to comfort you in your time of need

you still see so much of that pudgy-faced boy in the man you know today

and then when he was a teenager you specifically remember him trying to teach you basketball

he had his arms wrapped around you as he positioned your hands correctly

when you shot your first basket without his help, he celebrated it like he’d just scored the winning basket for the team he played on

you still think about the way he picked you up and spun you around sometimes; it feels like such a special memory

you can’t help but smile as you let it play in your mind one more time

“what are you thinking about?” jongho asks

you shift your head so you can see his face, his big brown eyes meeting yours immediately

perhaps it’s the dimness of his bedside lamp, but you can’t help but appreciate how nice he looks right now

you’ve always known him to be attractive, but surely his lips haven’t always looked that soft, right?

“why do you want to know?” you respond quietly as you try and make sense of this new feeling that settles over you

well, perhaps it’s not new, but it’s certainly stronger

“i want to know everything about you,” he replies, no evidence of a joke on his face, “like what you’re thinking, or when you have a job interview.”

well, that’s targeted, you think to yourself

“i told you it was supposed to be a surprise if i passed!” you whine

he smiles slightly

“it would’ve been a great surprise,” he admits, “but i still can’t help but wish you’d told me! i would’ve gone with you for support.”

and he would’ve

one word from you and he’d have taken a day off work just to do anything in his power to help you

hell, you’re sure he would’ve gone into the interview with you if he could

you can’t help but giggle at the idea of him standing behind you like a bouncer, arms folded threateningly as the interviewers fumble through their dumb questions

“your support would’ve been greatly appreciated,” you say

he hums an agreement

“this is why you tell your jongho things, okay?” he teases

you pause

“my jongho?”

“who else’s would i be?”

you shrug

“i don’t know,” you admit, “i just thought such a title would go to a girlfriend or something…”

you feel your face heat up at your own words

perhaps it’s the connotations that come with it; a title that should’ve gone to his future girlfriend has gone to you instead

why is that thought making your heart beat so fast?

“i mean maybe one day it will,” he says, “but only if you say yes.”

your mind goes blank

what does he mean by that?

“because if you don’t then my plans will be kind of fucked, you know?” you don’t know. you don’t know anything at all, “like what’s going to happen if you say no and things get awkward? who will i take on my family’s spring vacation then?”

“huh?”

that’s all you can say

because his words make sense in your mind, but none of it makes sense in concept, except it also kind of does

but then the notion of it all is making butterflies erupt in your stomach, which also doesn’t make sense because why?

“do i have to spell it out for you, my little dummy?” he smiles, a familiar fondness in his eyes, “i’m asking you to be my girlfriend.”

and that’s when it all dawns on you

the reason you feel closer to him than anyone else

the reason you want him to be the first to know everything

the reason why you always try so hard to impress him

you’re in love with him, and you have been for quite a long time, it seems

perhaps it was the basketball incident that set this proverbial train in motion; you distinctly remember feeling butterflies then

although at the time you had put it down to just feeling nervous about impressing jongho, even that excuse points in the direction of love

holy fuck

“hello?” he waves a hand in front of your face, “anyone in there? or am i just going to have to assume it’s a no-”

“no!” you cut him off, eyes going wide, “i mean yes. no to saying no, yes to your question… the girlfriend question.”

a wide toothy grin forms on his face, one of the ones that shows his gums and makes his nose scrunch up in the cutest way

oh god, have you always been down this horrifically bad for him?

“god you’re cute,” he says with happiness evident in his voice

it’s funny; you were about to tell him the same thing

[purinfelix]

special treatment ⊹₊⟡⋆ - daniel ricciardo

pairing: reader x compsci!daniel summary: to others, there might be absolutely no reason for you to be spending the night at your nerdy classmate's dorm room, but you know that he's the only one who you trust to check over your code - and look good while doing it w/k: 1k a/n: the brainchild of this late night blurb, the idea was too good not to turn into a fic so enjoy - i love writing my boys being nerdy <333 I LOVE NERDS

"We can't keep doing this. It's late."

"I know."

"Yet you're here again."

"I know."

You pause before continuing your pleading, "I need you, Daniel, you're the only one who can-"

"Get in," his voice comes curt, an attempt to hide the nervous unease he feels as he opens the door to his dorm a little wider for you. You shuffle into the cool darkness of his room - trying not to think of how suggestive this conversation might've sounded to anyone passing by.

If this had been any other day you might've taken a minute to pause and look around his dorm room, satisfying your morbid curiosity to know everything about the mystery you found this boy to be. But it wasn't the time for that, and you had little else on your mind when you threw your bag onto the floor and slumped onto his bed.

"I doubt our head of academic integrity would look very fondly upon one of their top students doing something like this," he mutters, sitting across from you on his desk chair.

"Probably not any better than they would on the top student for helping them get away with it," you challenge back, getting a kick out of the way he seems to squirm under your gaze, eyes darting between you and the floor.

It must've started around the end of last semester if you recall correctly. A couple final assignments, way too many cans of energy drink and a fated late-night library encounter had thrown you into a 'relationship' some might've seen as strange, but you thought more of as resourceful. Before that night, the thought of even approaching the guy you'd only seen leaving lectures early because he understood everything before the professor had the chance to explain it, seemed out of the question - equal parts daunting and embarrassing.

He was a cocky nerd, and there was little more you hated than someone who not only had an ego, but the means to back it up. You'd be lying if you said you didn't resent him a little every time you saw his name on top of yours when the class rank lists came out, but something about the stress of finals week had lowered your guard and forced you to swallow your pride.

"Fine, show it to me." He's so easy to break, you think to yourself as you fling open your bag to grab your laptop. Navigating quickly to the page of code you'd spent the last four hours unsuccessfully debugging, you set it down in front of him.

"Danny, I don't know what's wrong with it, and it's due tonight!" You watch as his eyes scanned the code, fingers moving masterfully as he fixed a line here, edited a call there. After a ridiculously impressive short amount of time, he clicks the program and to your delight, your code runs with no bugs. You're tired enough not to be embarrassed by your squeal of joy, but also awake enough to resist the urge to throw yourself at the man in front of you.

"You're my saviour, you know that?" You resign yourself to this, and it seems to do the trick as you watch him break into a shy smile - which, even in the low light, you can tell is accompanied by flushed cheeks.

"It's nothing," he laughs softly, pushing the laptop back towards you.

You're not sure why he keeps giving in to your begs for help, especially when - to you - you're not giving him anything in return. You've brought it up before, amidst offers for free dinner or coffee or lecture notes, things you'd think no other university student could give up. Yet every time he waves you off with the same content smile. Smart, cocky, as if he couldn't get any more annoying the asshole just had to be generous as well.

"Thank you, I'll get out of your hair now," you say hurriedly, shoving your laptop back into your bag and slinging it over your shoulder - eager to let him get back to whatever it is he was doing before you barged in.

"Wait," he says, and your hand pauses around the handle of the door.

It's silent for a bit, as you turn back to him and watch in fascination as his usually unbothered expression transforms into something you can't quite put your finger on - a strange mix of pain and confusion.

"Are you free tomorrow night?" he finally manages to blurt out.

"No, sorry I think I've got plans with a friend," you laugh awkwardly, still confused as to why this seems like such a big deal to him.

"Oh, alright," you watch his face fall and something in your heart twists.

"I should be free the night after though, what did you have in mind?"

His eyes shoot up to meet yours as he regains a little bit of the confidence you're so used to seeing him sport. "I was thinking I might take you up on your offer, for dinner?"

"Oh, of course, I mean I do owe you for all you've done for me."

"But I want to pay."

"Doesn't that sort of defeat the purpose of my paying you back?"

"Think of it less like you paying me back and more like..." he trails off towards the end of his sentence, and when you look into his eyes, eyebrows raised, you're quick to catch on.

"A date?"

He gives you half a nod, shy and a little unsure.

"Danny, are you asking me out on a date?"

"If it's alright with you, yes."

You let out a half-hearted laugh of surprise, letting out a breathy "of course."

Relief washes over your classmate's face as he sits back in his desk chair with a sigh and a grateful smile. "See you then."

You nod, a sudden shyness washing over you as you finally make it to the door and return to the harsh white light of the hallway - though now the code you came to ask him about is the last thing on your mind.

[reverse1999fics]

Hallo! I not sure request is open if is not feel free to decline this sorry! If is alright could i request 6 and medicine pocket separately with a shy and timid s/o who worries a lot and hides behind them doesn’t have any friends but likes to just be by their side most of the time and clings to them? Hope you have a nice day!

Woohoo! Back on that grind and cranking out requests!! They are open btw!!

Please forgive me if either of them are a little ooc! I don't have MP and I skipped through the story so I don't entirely know 6's personality all that well!!

Medicine Pocket & 6 w/a Timid/Shy S/O (separate)

Medicine Pocket is someone with a very flamboyant personality, always being able to speak their mind. They never quite understood why or how you could be so timid, but that didn't stop them from loving you all the same.

Their tall physic let off an intimidating aura to those who didn't know them properly, but to you it was a source of comfort. Their height makes it easy for you to hide behind, holding their hand or a part of their coat and trailing behind them like a child would play follow the leader. Of course Medicine Pocket had no issue with this, even taking pride in how safe you'd feel around them and only them.

No matter that you don't have many friends, neither do they due to how... Different they are to others, all they need is to be in your company they say. Others were frustrating and didn't understand what they were trying to say, what they meant, but you did. You always understood their words and actions, so you were the only person they truly wanted to be around.

Clingy? You? Clearly you've never met them because goodness only knows how much they love to be around you. Even if it were you just simply being in the same room as them, they want to be near you. You know them better than anyone else, understand their weird antics and never judge them for how they acted or what they did. That was something they held close to their heart, right next to you, so of course your affection is needed on a daily basis! Sit next to them while they work on projects or go through paperwork, lay your head on their shoulder, read a book on the couch they moved in the room just for you, take a nice nap, sit on their lap, let them sit on your lap! Anything, as long as you were with them.

6 is a person driven to perfection when it comes to his work, someone strict with his rules and follows them all to a T. You, are a slight exception though. Oh how adorable you are to him, holding onto his sash while standing behind him, cowering from the other numbers like a little kitten. He had a soft spot for you, that much was clear to everyone

Being of high status on the island, he was a busy person, usually so busy he comes off as a recluse. But never was he too busy to ignore you even for a moment. Come into his arms after a long day of interacting with people, sit in his lap and rest to regain your social battery while he works on equations and problem solving. Your battery recharges just as much as his does, so let him rest his head on yours for a moment but don't question his closed eyes. He's just letting them rest for a moment.

You need not worry about not having many friends, he wouldn't say he has many either, if any at all. You are his one and only, why pay attention to others when he has you to keep him company? He'd rather stay home with you by his side with a good book of philosophy rather than go out with others. His robes will keep you warm, so snuggle up to his side and read along with him if you do so please.

His personality severely contradicts your own, having a more serious and stern personality that goes against your timid one, but that never stops him from loving you all the same. Should the two of you be away from each other he'll leave a piece of him with you, perhaps something on his person he wears often, or maybe a book he knows you'd like. When he is with you he'll never mind you grabbing a hold of his hand, even when others are around. He finds it adorable how you seem to try and melt into his arm as you hold onto it while others are around and chatting.

[lcriedlastnight]

Y/n asks Oscar for help in order to get Lando to fall in love with her, but y/n breaks her heart in the process, realizing that she loved Oscar the entire time

ohh okay anon! your mind is literally brilliant. also i'm not sure if you wanted lando to break her heart or not but that's what i did, kinda!

tw: fem!reader, kinda arsehole lando again, oscar pines hee hee, lnk if you want me to add anything. ignore any mistakes can’t i cba proofreading rn!

w/c: 1.5k

"oscccc" you sing as you skip into the mclaren hospitality. the look on your face lets oscar know that he most definitely will not like whats coming next. oscar sings your name back to you in the same tone that makes you laugh at him.

"i need your help!" you ask sweetly, plopping yourself down next to oscar on the couch he was resting on. your feet come to rest in his lap as you give him your best puppy eyes.

"don't give me those eyes. you haven't even asked me yet." oscar says although he cannot hold back his own smile.

"i'm sure you know how much i like lando? alex says it's pretty obvious." you start, a little bit nervous now with your words. speaking of your words, it is like oscar is stabbed in the chest as you confirm your affections towards his teammate. what he would do to be lando right now, oscar is never usually envious but this is so much different. the australian had an inking of suspicion that you liked lando but he did not know for sure so he could gaslight himself into thinking that it was all in his head and that you were just really friendly with the tanned boy.

oscar's mouth feels like it is full of cotton as he wills his brain to generate a response that is not just oscar confessing his love for you.

"uh yeah, yeah i may have heard something about that."

you blush a little at oscar's words a little embarrassed about how many people know about this apparently obvious crush you had on lando. you clear your throat.

"right, well. you know lando quite well right? you surely do because you spend so much time with him. i was wondering if you could maybe put in a good word for me?" you practically beg oscar. the boy seriously thinks he is going to die from heartbreak. you were coming to him to ask him to put in a good word? him? who has been in love with you since you had first arrived in paddock. what kind of karma was thing? was oscar really that horrible in his past life?

oscar copies you and clears his throat too. "sure, i'll say to him after free practise." oscar offers. he so badly wants to be one of those people who will not let you have anyone else if he cannot have you, he wants to be that person so badly right now. but he is not. all he wants is to see you happy and if that was not with him, then he would just have to make do with that. the way you squeal in response to his offer makes him want to kill himself right there and then. okay maybe he was being a little dramatic but his mind was already thinking about having to watch you every race weekend, hanging off of lando's arm. oh god he would have to retire from f1 in his second year.

you skip away again as oscar is stuck in his mind. he has never felt this depressed in his entire life he thinks. like his thoughts summoned him, lando comes padding over. you could not be far then, oscar surmises.

"hey, man." lando greets as he sits where you were just sitting moments ago. oscar just decides to do it now and get it over and done with, waiting until after free practise might actually kill him off. he would rather just say to lando then he could get it out of his mind and concentrate on getting you out of his mind.

"hey, i've gotta ask you something." oscar says, his heart hammering in his chest. he has no idea why. a part of his is praying he rejects you, in a nice way, of course. then maybe he will not have to retire his promising racing career.

unbeknown to both mclaren drivers you were lingering around, listening in on their conversation.

lando cocks his head in questioning, silently telling oscar to continue and oscar does exactly that.

he utters your name. "she wanted me to put in a good word for her, if you know what i mean." oscar tries to make it lighthearted and not act like one single sentence shattered his heart into a thousand pieces and the only girl who held the glue to piece it back together was longing after a man who was near enough the complete opposite from him.

lando smirks. "oh yeah, i heard she has a thing for me." he says, cockily. a part of oscar fears for where this conversation is headed.

"and?"

"and what?" lando asks.

"and are you gonna ask her out or what?" oscar questions like it was obvious because to him it was. how could he not ask a girl like you out? although oscar was guilty of the same thing it was not for a lack of wanting from oscar, that much was true.

"nahh. she's not really..." lando trails off. oscar gets defensive as soon as the first word rolls off the brits tongue.

"not really what?" oscar's words bite like bullets.

"you know man, she's not really wag material." is all lando says.

your face drops even further from your listening spot. this was not the way you had seen this conversation going. you were almost certain lando had liked you back. seems like you were wrong.

while you cower and hide to nurse your broken heart, oscar seeths at lando.

"that is no way to speak about a girl, nevermind her." oscar defends you. "it honestly seems like you don know what you're missing out on because she is a lovely girl. even though there is no such thing as 'wag material' i know for a fact that she is that and much much more, you are just too blind to see it. some people are surface level pretty and pretty on the inside too."

lando's brows raise at oscar's rant about you. the brit seems surprised at his view on you. the kind words not unusual from oscar but he could hear the devotion and love behind them, anyone with a pair of working ears could hear how deep his fondness for you went.

"if you like her that much much then why don't you ask her out, man?" lando asks. oscar is not stupid he can hear the teasing tone in his voice but he chooses to ignore it as he sighs.

"i can't she likes you." oscar just barely gets the words out before you appear at oscar's side. your eyes are teary and that just confirms his worst fear. you had heard everything. everything lando had said about you, he hoped you knew that it was so far from the truth.

"you really think that about me?" oscar winces as he assumes the questions was aimed at the older of the two papaya boys but when he opens his eyes he sees your eyes are pinned on his. oh you were talking to him. he had forgotten that if you had heard what lando had said you had most likely heard what he had said too. it was not too special and nothing of a confession but the heaviness behind his words told you much more than his words ever could.

"yeah i do" it is false confidence oscar speaks with but he really wants you to know he meant every single word and he could not convince you of that if you was a stuttering mess. "i like you."

you just stare at him. somewhere in this lando had ended up leaving you both to have some privacy, he had that much decency.

"i think i like you too." you tell oscar, although your words are a little unsure, definitely not as sure as oscar's.

oscar scoffs. "you don't. and you don't need to say that because you feel bad."

you roll your eyes. "i'm not just saying it. i think i do really like you."

"no, you like lando. you only like me because i'm the only option you have." oscar frowns at his own words, saddened by the mere thought of you only wanting him because you cannot have lando.

you take the seat lando was sitting in, and you before him. you take his hands in yours and hold them gently.

"i think i wanted to make you jealous by asking you to put in a good word with lando for me?" you tell him. to oscar is seemed that you had not even made sense of your own feelings.

oscar finally nods as he sees the sincerity in your eyes.

"if you do really like me then i would love to take you out." oscar says, his words less sure than before and a little more shy. it makes you smile and that is when you are sure that you do like oscar. and yeah maybe you do still like lando but you are almost certain that it was just a harmless crush. this with oscar? you know this could very much be something real.

"i'd love that." you nod as oscar grins back at you, you have never seen oscar smile that much and you have known him for a while now.

[fairyhaos]

seventeen as teachers

requested by @weird-bookworm ! it's a little to the left of what you asked but i hope it's alright anyway ><

masterlist

seungcheol

architecture professor. kind of thanks to physics!cheol anon for this idea but he really encourages hands-on learning especially for his subject, and he draws big diagrams on the board and gestures wildly with his hands as he's explaining why the models work and what do the students think of it? also he definitely gives vibes of someone who high fives the students when their models withstand his shaking tests, but also laughs and claps when they fall apart. because it's all about learning, isn't it? and he's with you to help you learn every step of the way. 

jeonghan

kindergarten teacher. cannot for the life of him handle kids older than that because then they get too tricksy and talkative for him and he gets tired too easily to deal with that. actually really good at handling the toddlers. he's also very pretty so all the kids unironically hang onto his every word, basically making him the god at keeping children in line. when he gets too tired of running around after them he just goes “kids :((( jeonghan is tired :(((“ and they immediately settle down to do something else

joshua

music teacher (1). he's a total department crush (and even school-wide crush) amongst the other teachers because he's so pretty and so kind, always and accidentally keeps making teachers fall for him bc he talks to them so nicely w that pretty smile of his. renowned for his ability to compose melodies on the piano on the spot, and always has students wanting him to help (cough compose for them) parts of their composition work. no one knows what he does outside of work, though. it's like he disappears into thin air after school finishes. 

junhui

gives me eccentric uni professor vibes. sits on his desk with his feet dangling and asks all sorts of strange and irrelevant questions to the students that are, actually, not strange and entirely relevant. has everyone walking out of his lectures feeling like a changed person because he either a) managed to get horribly off track or b) made them rethink their entire life choices. loved by all, and maybe a bit too much. poor guy definitely had an obsessed student try to follow him home before he got lost himself and so they both ended up in the middle of nowhere

hoshi

chemistry teacher. no other reason other than i think he'd look great with a pair of goggles on his forehead pushing his fringe back at funny angles whilst he grins maniacally and goes, “hey, kids, today we're gonna set things on fire!!!!”. so passionate about teaching these things to the students, and rambles on like he only has 5 minutes left on earth and he's gonna use every second to cram in as much chemistry knowledge into the students’ brains as he can in that time. it works, too. his passion inspires so many of them to take chemistry further up in the school. 

wonwoo

history teacher. all the students want him for their teacher when they take history because he's actually, like, competent and knows stuff. known for taking no shit when it comes to doing assignments on time because he sets reasonable deadlines and if you can't make them, then that's on you, not him. students love him. also super duper helpful if you have any questions and is always free at lunch to help bc he'll do anything to escape the hyperactive claws of mr. kwon and mr. wen who are always up to shenanigans

woozi

music teacher (2). mans life literally revolves around music and i can't imagine him doing anything else. department ace. conductor of both the symphony and concert orchestra, and rearranges all of the parts himself when the students find it a little too difficult. also do Not engage this man in a conversation about anything to do with music theory because he will rant for ages and any quick question turns into half of your lunch break being missed. he means well, though, and always gets ridiculous amount of thank-you presents at the end of the year. 

minghao

art teacher (1). dresses like one, too, and has been voted as ‘best dressed teacher’ for the past 3 years in a row. all the art students are kind of afraid of him because if you ask for feedback, there is a 50/50 chance that he'll rip you a new one whilst explaining what you did wrong. there's never any true cruelty to his words, though, cuz hes always actually giving genuine advice and he's always right in what he advises, so students either love him or hate him for his criticisms, though mostly it's the former. he's pretty, too, and his works are pretty, so that's a plus

mingyu

teaches business studies to the older students, purely cz i think he gives maths-adjacent vibes. he teaches a “special” subject that's not available to the younger kids and he's ridiculously handsome so he's kind of like a legendary figure in the school. even if he's a bit silly and adorable at times, he's also super good at holding intellectual debates with his students about current economic and political affairs. can be found bickering with mr. yoon bc the kindergarten teacher wants him to help with his taxes.

dokyeom

art teacher (2). smiles brighter than the sun at all hours of the day, and when the senior students are drowning in coursework and artist research deadlines, he's like the one and only guiding light that helps them get through it because of how endlessly optimistic he is. half the seniors take art solely because of him, actually. also a firm believer that all art is good art and there's no such thing as a “non-artist”. scolds minghao after work when he feels like the other teacher was being too harsh to the students

seungkwan

part of the senior leadership team. takes his position veryyy seriously, strides briskly around the school with a jingle of w set of keys he managed to procure from…somewhere. is always on top of uniform inspections which is always annoying for the kids, but he's also melodramatic and smiley so they love him anyway. the students are always try to recruit him for teacher quizzes and events bc he makes everything way more fun. 

vernon

classics teacher. this might seem odd but hear me out!!! dude loves ancient history and Will do deep dives on old artefacts and cultures that interest him, and i think that passion can definitely be transferred to him teaching kids about latin, ancient greek, old civilizations. known for sharing nothing about his personal life but also being able to talk for ages about something that happened over 1000 years ago. the students all find him super cool and also super endearing. 

chan

the guy who's hired externally from some sports club to act as the teacher to students during after school clubs. teaches martial arts, mainly, but he supervised an impromptu dance club one semester and the students loved it so much that they managed to bring the dance club onto the permanent schedule. everyone loves him. his sports club is 10000% sure that half the children who come to them were recruited through chan's lovely personality alone. 

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[snowthedemonfox]

So what is the Alien AU exactly??? (AKA: The masterpost)

Long story short, in this AU a group of people are sent off on an AI controlled ship by 'the company' to research a newly discovered planet. Nobody in this research team gets along, which only gets worse after they accidentally capture 2 of the aliens that live there. Now they have to deal with not only their problems, but the problems this new planet is already dealing with.

Alien AU tag can be found here

Below are all the finished designs for the characters in this AU! I haven't finished all of these yet, but you're free to ask anything about the missing characters if you want to :3

Questions & Boundries:

Can I ship any of the characters? - Yes! I don't mind shipping at all. I'm a multishipper myself, and while some ships are implied in this AU (Bunnydoll, Abstragedy & Showtime), all are okay with me! - The only exception to this would be ships involving Gummi. While yes, Gummi is sentient, capable of understanding speech, and able to communicate to some degree, I do not feel comfortable shipping him with anyone. He's just friends with some of the other team members.

Can I write/draw/make something for the AU? - Of course!!! I love seeing what other people do with this AU, it really makes my day. Feel free to tag me in anything you do! I only ask that nothing NSFW is done with this AU. Please respect this choice!

Can I put my OC in your AU? - Yep!! I even made blank versions of the info cards if anyone wanted to do this ^w^ The first one is for alien characters, and the second is for team members!

Are you going to add [character]? - Depends! The entire main cast will be added, along with some side characters and NPCs, but it all comes down to if I have an idea for them in the AU. I am a slow artist sometimes, so I probably won't be rushing to get all the info cards done ASAP. Feel free to ask about any specific characters if you're curious!

How does Abstraction work? - There's two types of 'abstraction' in this AU. If we're talking about a team member, they simply get re-assigned to a different team. This is what happened to Queenie and Kaufmo. They're alive and well, just somewhere else. The company can and will re-assign whoever they want, whenever they want. - When it comes to the aliens on the planet, there is an infection spreading around that has similar effects to abstraction in the show. It's not 100% the same, but causes those infected to become extremely hostile and attack anything around them until the host eventually dies. In this AU, Loolilalu (named Candi) is infected, and is seen as a minor threat by the rest of the team. Right now, there is no known cure.

Does the AU take place in a digital world? - No, everything is real. There's no mysterious VR headsets that are making people disappear in this AU!

Why isn't anyone on the research team human? - Because I suck at drawing humans and wanted to stay close to their canon designs. There's not really a lore-related reason for this.

I'll be putting all the links for the masterpost under the cut!

Outdated/older art: ★Original Jax & Gangle designs [X, X] ★Various sketches of Gangle's original design [X, X, X, X, X] ★When your alien roommates break into the kitchen at 2:34am ★Gummi's first appearance

The more recent art: ★Bnnuy alien Jax [X, X] ★Jax sketches [X, X, X, X] ★Coloured Jax sketches [X, X, X, X, X, X] ★Gangle sketches [X] ★Little guys (baby Jax & Gangle) [X, X, X, X] ★That one time I drew Jax in the maid outfit ★ Abstragedy [X] ★A smoothie ★The consequences of our actions ★Alien AU plushies [X, X] ★Tynie [X] ★Jax's evil little sister (Jaiden) ★More Jaiden + AU Ghostly & Loolilalu ★Jaiden learns bad words ★Christmas aliens

More asks about the lore: ★AU recap ★What does Jax have to gain from this ★Where do Jax & Gangle live ★Do the aliens have abilities ★What language do they speak?

[runningfrom2am]

Okay! Ik ur not talking request rn but I’ve had this thought for a lil bit but rafe w hs Teacher!reader, who he likes to visit during her lunch time aka study hall time, and the students adore him and like since it’s hs the girls like find his so attractive( bc mf is) 🤭

okay this request is SO self-indulgent for me bc i'm like a year out from becoming a hs teacher myself like AH that's the dream so i love you so so much for this whoever you are i could give you the biggest hug rn thank you so so much for this idea!!

study hall - r.c.

pairing: husband!rafe x teacher!reader

wc: 1.6k

tags/warnings: fluff and almost nothing else. rafe is a perfect boyfriend bc,, duh? also not very canon of him honestly.

requests currently closed but feel free to send stuff in! it just might take me a while to get around to it :)

nav/masterlists

"Okay that's the lecture, we've got about a minute before the bell here... does anyone have any questions?" You finish up your slides, checking the time briefly as you close up the powerpoint from your laptop and turn off the projector.

A couple of hands shoot up and you gaze over the class waiting briefly for anymore. "Okay, we'll do Max, and then Lacy. Fire off." You point to the two of them in order.

"Can we get an extension on the essay?" Max asks quickly and you laugh. "It's not due for another week! How can you be behind already?" Judging by the reaction of the rest of the class chattering off their agreement, you nod. "Okay, okay. Fine. Yes, you can hand it in on the Monday instead of Friday, but that is giving you two extra days so I won't be giving any more extensions. Got it?"

Collectively the class sighs in relief, a chorus of thank you's and chatter following. "Okay, Lacy, you had a question?" You interrupt everyone to ask, thinking maybe someone else might have the same question and want to hear the answer.

"Is Mr. Cameron coming to study hall today?" She asks, round cheeks flushed as the other girls in the class whip their heads towards you to listen.

"Okay." You laugh, sitting down in your chair content that you won't need to pull up any slides to revisit anything. "Thank you for reminding me, I do have study hall today so if anybody does have any serious questions about the lecture or the essay please hang around after the bell." You say, avoiding most of the question.

You hear the voice of almost every girl in the class speak up at once, all resulting in more or less the same question about whether or not your boyfriend would be coming again to eat with you like he usually does on Fridays.

He was very popular among the girls you taught, which doesn't surprise you. You'd be lying if you said your boyfriend wasn't ridiculously handsome, but it was sometimes a point of contention with the other faculty you worked with. They thought it was extremely unprofessional that he would come in just for the girls to ogle at- but strangely it wasn't a problem when they had their partners come in for lunch at the same time. You knew it wasn't your fault and you weren't doing anything wrong, but just a result of upset from them designating study hall for students and many girls would spend time in your class instead during the lunch hour.

Just then the bell rang, and many students began packing up to leave either to go to other classes for study or to the cafeteria to grab something to eat.

"Alright! Don't forget the readings for next class, please, I may or may not be quizzing you on it just to make sure! Have a good day everyone!" You call out over the loud sounds of students filling the halls and talking.

You sigh with a smile and grab your water bottle, taking a sip to ease your dry throat after an hour of non-stop talking. You look up, humming in acknowledgement at the three girls leaning over your desk. "Question?" You ask, already knowing what they're after.

"Is Mr. Cameron coming?" Lacy's friend, Chloe asks and you smile, shrugging.

"Maybe, you'll have to stay for my study hall to find out."

"Come on just tell us!" Lacy groans, but before you can respond you're interrupted by a knock on your door frame.

"Ms. Y/L/N, I brought your lunch." You smile at your boyfriend standing at the door, lunch bag and coffee in hand.

"Hi." You chuckle, looking at the girls knowingly who already look like they're melting. You get up and greet him at the door, grabbing another chair to pull over to your desk for him to join you.

“Hi Mr. Cameron.” Lacy smiles, sitting down in the desk closest to yours and batting her lashes at him.

“Hi there.” Rafe says politely with an awkward smile, digging through the lunch bag he brought for you and handing you snacks out of it.

“Girls, go get your lunches, please.” You tell them, and they all somehow simultaneously roll their eyes.

“You just want us to leave so you can be alone with your boyfriend.” Chloe teases you and you laugh, shaking your head.

“No, I want you to go get your lunches so you can give your bodies the nutrients they need to learn. I’m not going to be held responsible for you girls missing meals.” You reply sincerely before taking a sip of your coffee. “And I promise, Mr. Cameron will still be here when you get back. Now, go.”

You gesture to the door and the girls sigh, getting up and filing out the door.

“You’re the only reason I ever have anyone in my study hall.” You giggle quietly once they’re gone. “There are no girls in study hall on Monday or Wednesday.”

“No way, Ms. Y/L/N is their favourite teacher, obviously.”

“Or my class is the hardest and my very hot boyfriend comes to eat with me during Friday study hall.”

“Your class is easy!” Rafe laughs, reaching up to brush away some hair that stuck to your cheek as you’re eating.

“You’ve never taken it, how would you know?”

“Well, if you were my teacher when I was in school… I’d be in here every day. “The boys don’t come on Fridays because they’re jealous of me…” He says smugly, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

You blush as you playfully push him away, glancing towards the open door to make sure no students saw. “Yeah, you’d be in here because you’d need help with Shakespeare, and they do too.”

Rafe gasped in mock offense, then shakes his head. “That’s messed up. I’m offended.”

You shrug. “It’s tough stuff if you’ve never read it before.”

“We’re back!” You both look up at the door as Lacy and her friends make their way back in, lunches in hand this time. “Did you miss us?”

“Welcome back, ladies. Did you bring some homework with you?” You ask, raising an eyebrow at them.

“Duh, Ms. Y/L/N. Who do you think we are?”

“I just wanted to make sure. Study hall is for studying, not chatting.”

They all get comfy in their seats around the desk across from yours, phones immediately out with no work to be seen.

“Hey, Mr. Cameron?” Chloe asks, leaning on her upturned palm as she grabs his attention and he hums in acknowledgement. “What’s your first name?”

“Rafe.” He answers, not thinking for a second that maybe it’s not allowed.

“That’s a great name. Like, really cool.” Lacy sighs, smiling at him.

“Why, thank you.” Rafe grins, nudging your shoulder. He eats this attention up every time, and it’s fun to joke about when you’re at home- but sometimes you think it’s bad for his ego.

“Can we call you Rafe?”

“If you want.” He shrugs.

“No, nope. He’s Mr. Cameron to you, sorry to disappoint.” You chuckle.

“But he said we can call him that!” Chloe whines, looking at you pleadingly.

“Sure, but the school board says otherwise. As long as we’re on school grounds you don’t even know his name, got it?”

“Yes ma’am.” They agree, giggling to themselves. “It’ll be our secret. Scouts honour.”

“None of you are scouts!” You laugh.

The girls just look at each other and shrug.

By now other students have filtered in, and luckily with tests coming up in all your blocks, a lot of studying is actually happening and less harassing of your boyfriend.

“Hey,” Rafe whispers, leaning closer to you which draws the attention of the girls in the front row who are straining to listen. “Can we take the yacht out this weekend? Maybe go for dinner or something on the mainland?” He whispers, smiling at you hopefully.

“Yeah, that would be nice. We could make a weekend out of it, I don’t have much grading to do.” You agree quietly and he seems excited, smiling and patting your leg before returning to his book that he had just picked up off your desk to skim through while you ate.

Come Monday morning, you’re getting ready for the bell to ring to signal the start of the first block. Once your whiteboard is ready with the notes for the day, you smile to yourself in anticipation as you sip your coffee. The bell rings, and students are quick to make their way in and to their desks.

“Oh. My. God.” Lacy stops in her tracks at the door, holding her arms out in front of her friends on either side of her as she stares at the whiteboard, and then looks over to you. “You’re joking!” She almost screams, clapping excitedly and running up to your desk to examine your hand while all the other students look up to the board in confusion, hoping for some answers as to what Lacy and Chloe are squealing about.

On your board, you had changed your name in the corner to a short statement:

‘You can call me Mrs. Cameron’

taglist: @rafeoccasionally , @bookishbabyyy , @madelynie , @whore-4-drewstarkey , @slut4drudy , @winterrrnight , @totalswag , @sadfury , @fullfledgedemo , @rafemotherfuckingcameron , @urfaveluvr , @chenslucy , @hxnnah-397, @s-we-e-t-t-ea , @tahliac11 , @saccharinesammie , @ietss , @maybankslover , @redhead1180 , @suzyheartsrafe , @wpdailyminimeta , @aegons-bitch, @rafegirly , @lovelyxtommy, @thelomlisrafecameron , @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles , @flonkertn , @whtvrrafe

[fettuccin-e]

The Devil In Me

Kinktober Day 8: Rough Sex

Tags: Matt Murdock x Reader, afab!fem!reader, unprotected piv (pls wrap it irl guys dont be dumb), rough sex, degradation, slight sadism/masochism, black suit supremacy, matt is kind of violent but thats rlly just who he is yknow (w/c: 1.6K)

A/N: so like even though most of my shit has rough sex this is like a little rougher than i usually write. but theres fluff at the end because i literally cannot help myself lol (I have been using prompts from this list by flightlessangelwings!)

When Matt comes home to you bloodied and battered, fists curled at his sides and jaw clenched, you aren’t afraid. He’s dangerous right now, a man at the end of a wire, teetering dangerously over the edge of insanity.

He’s been pushed and pushed, the devil within him restless and feral. You know that he’s still the man you love; he’s the same Matty that cooks your favorite foods and listens to audiobooks with you and takes you for walks through Central Park.

You love Matt, and the devil that lives within him. To love him is to accept them both, and you do, without hesitation.

So when he stalks toward you, every inch of him dangerous and volatile, you don’t flinch away. You smooth your hands over his scratchy cheeks, thumbing gently over his lips. Soothing an animal. He brings his hands up to grab your wrists, holding them still against his face. He’s practically vibrating with unshed energy, aching to be set free.

“Need you, please,” he rasps, his voice quiet and rough. It’s more of a question than anything else, you know it is.  He always asks, never wants to hurt you. You know that if you were to say no, he’d simply kiss your forehead. He’d tell you he loves you, like he always does, and would go out again. Distancing you from the devil. You’ve never considered saying no, after years of being beside him. These nights are for you as much as they’re for him. They’re brutal, sometimes painful, but you crave them, crave him.

“Yes,” you whisper back to him, and that’s all the confirmation he needs. He growls, and his hands move to grip your hips, hard enough to bruise. They likely will, and later, Matt will kiss them, murmuring little apologies. You’ll giggle at him, telling him that he shouldn’t apologize. You’ll press on them while staring at the mirror, relishing in the soft ache.

Matt kisses you hard, all teeth and spit and tongue, before turning you until your back presses flush against his chest. You let your head lay back against his shoulder as one of his hands snakes down your stomach and under your panties. He cups your pussy without any finesse, his hands rough and calloused against you. 

“So fucking wet,” he grunts, and you whine as his hands part your cunt to run a thick finger over your clit. Your hips jerk forward, chasing his touch, but Matt uses his other hands to shove your hips back against him again. You can feel the thickness of his cock through his clothes, pressing against your ass. Against your better judgment, you grind back against him. Testing, teasing. Something you should never do with a caged animal.

“Fucking-” he chokes out, sounding almost angry. “Bend over for me. Now.” You nearly trip over your own feet in your rush to get to the couch. You can feel how soaked you are, your pussy slick and ruining your panties. You slide them off, but as you reach to take off your sleeping shirt, an old Fogwell’s tee from Matt’s dresser, the devil is already upon you. 

“I said,” he murmurs, “bend over.” He grips your shoulders, shoving them over the back of the couch until you brace yourself with your hands on the cushions. The edge of the couch digs into your lower stomach, but you can barely feel it, your anticipation clouding your senses. Matt smooths a rough hand over your ass, you barely have a moment to breathe before he’s landing a rough smack against you. Pain radiates through you, and you can feel yourself leaking for him. You choke out a soft moan at the impact, and shake minutely as Matt chuckles darkly.

“Fucking slut. You like getting hit? Fuck, you’re soaked, you love it, baby. I know you do. I can fucking smell it.” You whine as Matt leans over you, his lips brushing against your ear. “You can’t run from me, sweetheart,” he whispers, and you swear that you could pass out from the mixture of anticipation and pure lust running through your veins. 

You can hear the rustle of fabric behind you; the undoing of a belt, the sound of a zipper. Your hips twitch minutely when you feel Matt’s hard cock press against you, sliding against your sensitive pussy. The thick head notches against your entrance, and suddenly, Matt is pushing in, in, strong and unyielding. The stretch borders on painful without any prep; Matt is big on a normal day, but he feels even bigger tonight, bullying into your clenching cunt without remorse.

“So fucking tight, shit,” he mutters behind you, and you can only whine in response. He doesn’t give you a moment to adjust, not like he usually does. He uses you, taking and taking without remorse, desperate for it. He pulls out roughly before plunging back in, making you feel every thick inch of him. He works himself in and out of your sopping pussy, clothed hips slapping against your bare skin, chafing it raw and red and aching. Your hips jerk with every unrelenting thrust, barely able to take it as Matt takes you like a fucking toy.

“Yeah, fucking take it. You little slut, my fucking slut. I own you, I own this fucking pussy, you hear me?”

“Yes, yes, God Matt, fuck, I’m yours. I’m yours, baby,” you slur out. You feel hazy, your vision blurry as Matt fucks you. He can barely ever miss the most sensitive part of your pussy in this position. His cockhead jams into your sweet spot again and again, unrelenting and nearly painful with how much pleasure rockets up your spine. One of his hands presses against the small of your back while the other reaches up to wrap his arm around your neck. He pulls you up, your hands leaving the couch cushions. You have no other choice but to grip onto the forearm pressing into your neck as Matt forces you to arch into the air. 

Matt’s thrusts get deeper, pulling out less and less, until he's simply humping into your cunt like an animal. Choked out whines of “Matt, yes, yes, fuck, oh my God, Matt,” escape unbidden from your throat.

“That’s right, sweetheart. I’m your God right now. I’m the only one who can fuck this pussy, I’m the only one that knows how much of a whore you are.” Matt’s voice is raspy, overwhelmed and absolutely primal. You nearly scream as the hand Matt has on your stomach snakes down to toy with your throbbing clit. “I’m the only one,” he mutters, “who can make you cum. Right?”

“Yes, Matt, yes, please, please make me cum.”

“Fucking cum, slut. Cum for your God.”

You really do scream as Matt pinches your clit, rough and painful, and suddenly, you’re clenching hard around his cock, your nails digging harshly into his forearm. Matt fucks relentlessly into your pussy as you ride out your orgasm, his thick cock bullying you open, breaking you apart. Your orgasm wanes, but Matt just keeps driving himself in. You’re sensitive, so sensitive; your pussy feels used and achy, but Matt just keeps going. Little tears are starting to leak down your cheeks, and fuck, Matt isn’t stopping. He isn’t stopping, isn’t slowing down.

“Matt, I’m so- I’m so sensitive, baby, you gotta-” you slur, but Matt cuts you off with a swift smack to your over-sensitive clit, your body trembling with the pleasure-pain of it all.

“I don’t have to do anything, you got that? You said I could take you, and I fucking will.” His cock keeps jamming into your pussy, and you can feel your wetness sliding down your shaking thighs. They try to clench themselves closed subconsciously, trying to run from Matt’s onslaught, but it’s a fruitless battle.

You can feel another orgasm building in your stomach, the knot within you clenching tighter and tighter. Matt chuckles from behind you, mocking you as your cheeks burn and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Can feel this fucking pussy clenching again. You really gonna cum again, sweetheart? Even when you’re trying to run, you’re still a fucking whore. I always give this pretty pussy exactly what she needs, right sweetheart? God, she’s sucking me in, like you don’t want me to leave, baby.” Matt’s fingers are still pressed against your achy clit, his thrusts shifting his fingers maddeningly up and down. You’re going to cum, you’re going to fucking cum.

“Give it to me, gorgeous,” Matt growls, and he lifts his hand away from your clit just to slap it back down again, sending stinging, glorious lightning straight up your spine.

You have the briefest thought about the unlikelihood of your survival before you’re screaming all over again, your pussy clenching like a vice. It’s nearly painful, your orgasm. You feel like you’ve been ripped apart, destroyed by Matt’s touch. 

Your chest is heaving, shaking, as Matt’s hips begin to stutter in their thrusts.

“Fuck, fuck this pussy’s so fucking good. So fucking tight, ah-” Matt groans, loud and unabashed as he presses himself as deep as he can into your cunt, filling you with his thick cum. You’re weightless, held steady only by Matt and his strong arms. He slips out of you, and you whimper softly at the feeling of his cum running down your slick, ruined pussy.

You barely feel it when Matt turns you in his arms, lifting you into the air to carry you into your shared bedroom. The silk sheets are comforting and cool on your overheated body as Matt lays you gently onto them. He lays next to you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. You can hear him vaguely, like you're underwater, cooing about how you are are, how perfect. You breathe against his warm, strong chest, relishing in the closeness.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Matt murmurs into the quiet of the room, and you press a kiss to his skin.

“Mhm,” you mumble. “Love my Matty, love my Devil too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, nuzzling into his chest.

“Well,” Matt whispers, “If I’m your devil, you’re my angel, sweet girl.”

“Hm.” You say. You can already feel yourself drifting off, safe and warm and loved. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“I know you are.”

[hotch33tos22]

Over thinkerShoto todoroki x reader

☁️Fluff

You’re in your room studying for exams listening to music when you hear the doorbell ring. You wonder who it could be, as you walk downstairs and open the door to find your boyfriend Shoto standing with an umbrella in the cold rain. He looks like he's been crying for his eyes are red and puffy and he keeps sniffling, ”Shoto! W-whats wrong?!” You practically yell bringing him inside “ are you o-okay!!?” You panic..He shakes his head not saying a word as you pull him inside, shutting the door behind him and he sets down his umbrella. He continues to sniffle and whimper softly as he stands there dripping water all over the floor….

“Oh shoto…”.. “I’ll be right back” .. you go into your room and grab a towel and a pair of your biggest clothes for him, returning towards him you hand him the clothes and towel “ change when you come out we can talk or if you stay like that you’ll get sick..”, “Okay…” He nods and replies as he grabs the towel and the clothes you give to him. He goes into the bathroom nearby and changes out of his completely soaked clothes that stick to his skin showing his complexion and into your dry ones. He was drowning in your hoodie but the pants seemed to fit him well, they were just a little short. He walks out of the bathroom looking a lot better than he did before but still looking upset.

“What wrong sho?..” you question him, “come on let’s sit on the sofa..” you tell him worryingly.. He nods once again doing as you say and sitting down on the sofa. He looks down at his lap for a few minutes as he wipes away the last of his tears and before finally speaking “…Can I ask you something?” He questions, “Anything sho!” You hold onto his hand, “You promise you won’t be mad?” -He looks at your hand holding his and grips it, squeezing your hand feeling its warmth.

He lets out a shaky sigh and grips your hand tighter while looking down “You don’t…have romantic feelings for anyone else besides me right?..”, “W-what?!” “What makes you think that?!” You exclaim shockingly, tightening your grip on his hand He lets out a shaky sigh and bites the inside of his cheek, “…There’s this boy in my class, he’s…well he’s pretty or whatever.. and I heard a few people in my class say that you two talk sometimes. I’m just overthinking it…I’m sorry..” you look at him with a confused look and ask “what do you mean? Sho the only pretty boy in class i have my eyes on is you..” you smile at him , He looks up you and gives you a shaky smile. He feels stupid now for even bringing it up and thinking such things “I didn’t mean to upset you I just…I got scared..I love you a lot and I’d be destroyed if you left me…I know I’m stupid for thinking things so easily it’s just…” he sighs..

“Oh sho.. I’d never leave you babe..” you look at him sadly, it pains your heart knowing he thinks this way… does he think you’d leave him for a “pretty boy” everyone finds attractive hell no that’s for sure.

His heart flutters slightly at your words, he lets out a shaky sigh and grips your hand tighter “Really?..You promise you won’t leave me for the pretty boy from your class?..” you scuffed “sho your the only pretty boy in my class… I don’t know any other boy that you could be talking about..” you giggle at his words, He looks away, realizing how stupid he sounds. He lets out a huff and puts his head in his free hand embarrassed “ I feel like a dumbass now..”

You laugh “ Dont say that babe… you’re the only person I’d ever lay my eyes on your my pretty boy…” you smile looking deep into his eyes, “Honestly sho don’t overthink it pains me knowing you think that way..” you kiss his soft lips .. licking your lips in hunger for more kisses.

He lets out another shaky and relieved sigh as you press your lips to his. His free hand rests on your waist and pulls you to sit on his lap. He breaks the kiss for a moment and buries his head into your neck, nuzzling it against your skin

“I’m really sorry for thinking such things…I love you so much…”.. “You should be knuckle head..” you state while playing with his semi wet hair. shivering as you touch his hair a bit wet from the rain. He gives a slight laugh at you calling him a knucklehead, knowing that he kinda deserves it and then nuzzles his head further into your neck as he speaks “I know, I’m sorry again…it’s just the people in my class keep talking about it…about how you and that boy are always talking and stuff…”.

“It’s just school work plus I didn’t want to tell you this but..” you slowly get closer to his ear and whisper “I show you off to him” you smile and you giggle in his ear. He listens to every word carefully and his cheeks turn a light pink. He takes a moment to process what you said, slightly confused at first “Huh? What do you mean you ‘show me off to him’?”, realizing what you had said but not was too late it had to be said “Oh nothing I just ramble about you a lot telling him how much of a good boyfriend you are sometimes I even get off topic on the project we do …” He can’t help but smile a bit, picturing you rambling about him to the boy as you work on projects together. He lifts his head up from your neck and looks up at you, “You really do that?” He questions “I do..”..” it’s kinda embarrassing now that I say it..” you cover your face He smiles gently at how embarrassed you are admitting it.

He gives you a satisfied smile seeing your beautiful face and moves one hand to cup your cheek. “You’re cuter than you give yourself credit for. You know that right?” You blush bright red “S-Sho!!”.. “Don’t say that” you bury yourself in his neck, He laughs at your actions and lets you bury yourself into his neck to hide your embarrassment. He brings his other hand up and runs his fingers through your hair as he smiles and speaks “Why not? I’m just saying the truth…”

You start kissing his neck softly bitting and licking into certain spots.. “Mhh.. I guess..” you breath heavily You immediately tell he’s enjoying the soft kisses on his neck, even letting out a small and shaky breath when you start biting into some special spots. He takes a moment to speak and when he does his voice is shaky and slightly strained… “Keep doing that and I’m…I’m not responsible for what happens next…”

You start kissing his neck softly bitting and licking into certain spots.. “Mhh.. if you say so..”

You continue on to leave him hickeys moving onto his lips.. He immediately melts into you as your lips move from his neck to his lips. He lets out a small hum of pleasure at the feeling as well as from the hickeys you leave. He closes his eyes and slides his tongue out a bit, gently licking over your lips as if asking for entrance into your mouth,You slowly let him inside your mouth moaning from his flavors mouth inside you… He lets out a noise of satisfaction as he slips his tongue into your mouth, immediately exploring every inch of it as he takes the lead of the kiss. The hand holding your waist suddenly grips onto you tighter as his tongue moves against yours, desperate to taste more of you.

You moan as you deeply kiss him passionately describe for his touch, He continues to dominate the kiss, holding you pressed against him as his other hand moves your hair back and out of your face so he can see you. He lets out another shaky breath as he devours your mouth, wanting this moment to last forever. He breaks the kiss for a moment, only to whisper the words, “I love you so much… ” in a soft and shaky voice before delving back in for another deep kiss…

(if you liked my work feel free to check out the rest on my page and follow <3!! Or click the #hotcheetos22 )

[celestie0]

ellie's beta reader application

hi friends!! i am looking for beta readers for my jjk fanfics :"0 i just reaaallyyy want to get back into writing n stuffs but have been struggling w motivation/confidence so i feel like having beta readers would make it nicer n easier aaa :'')

here are the stories that i'm looking for beta readers for, plus a little blurb about what the beta readers' role/input would be for each, but in general you’d basically be reading thru my chapter, leaving comments/notes w suggestions or reactions, and help me work out any plot-related struggles i may be having :)

please read all of the text below before sending me an ask

kickoff - looking for two beta readers

early access to drafted chapters. read through for clarity & prose. may run by some ideas by the beta readers, but for the most part i have the rest of kickoff set in stone!

in holy matriphony - looking for two beta readers

early access to drafted chapters, as well as my upcoming plans for the series. i have most of ihm set in stone as well, but may just need some help with making sure things flow well since the plot's a lil jumbled in my head!

around the clock - looking for two beta readers

early access to drafted chapters. i don't really have much planned for this series, so i would like to get some help w planning the rest of it! i anticipate 4ish parts, and i'm really just looking to have some fun w this one :)

if the world was ending - looking for two beta readers

early access to drafted chapters. i am kinda struggling with the overall plan i have for this series, as i have the first and last chapters mostly finished, but need help figuring out some of the in between

additionally, all my beta readers will have early access to any other oneshots, drabbles, mini series that i come up with down the line, and can also help me come up with additional plotlines/tropes from the ones i've brainstormed for those more independent works. there won't be any crossover for the series though, meaning that if you've been selected as a beta reader for "in holy matriphony", i won't be sharing drafted chapters/ideas for any of my other series to you

requirements to be a beta reader

must be 18+ years old

must be ok w spoilers for any of my works

must be an active reader of mine

must be proficient in english

must have a discord account

should not be a fellow fanfic author

must not share any of my drafted materials/ideas to others

how to apply

to apply, please first ensure that you satisfy the requirements listed above, and then send me an ask off of anon that answers the questions below (don't worry, i won't be publicly responding to/posting any of the asks to my feed, i just need your username so i can message you!)

i will close applications in 2-3 days!

beta reader application template

list your age:

how long have you been a reader of mine:

rank your preference of fics that you would like to beta read for (for example, kickoff > ihm > atc > itwwe):

for those who have listed "kickoff" or "in holy matriphony" as either your first or second choice, please briefly list 2-3 scenes from each series that are your favorite or were memorable to you (i just wanna make sure you're an active/engaged reader w a good understanding of the plots! the scenes can be briefly listed such as “hotel room scene” for kickoff or “kitchen kiss scene” for ihm. if both series are in your top two, please list scenes for each of them, but if neither are in your top two, then you can ignore this question):

anything else you would like me to know (optional):

please list your discord username:

and that's it! i will message you here on tumblr for further steps :) aaa i hope this is successful hahah and in general i'm really excited to more closely interact w some of you guys :'') i will make a lil discord group for us hehe. tbh getting beta reader(s) has been loooong overdue for me but i'm looking forward to it n think it will be good for me! much love <3 feel free to reach out w any questions :0

[cranberry-writes]

hii i love ur writing!!! ik youve just answered a hughie ask but i love him and how u write him sm, could i please rq sorta general hcs w him having a lil crush on someone whose sweet and confident, if a little vain? if possible, id love it to specifically be a male reader whose significantly taller than him. thank you!

Hughie Headcannons

Ahhhh love this rq!!! There are almost no male reader stories or headcannons so it’s nice to do them.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN FEEL FREE TO SEND IN ANY REQUEST! (If you aren’t sure look at my pinned!”

Also i’m like 5’ 5” so my writing about a tall person is definitely not correct 😞

Warnings; (Very) Mild Spoilers for season 2&3 and cannon typical language

- Hughies already a tall guy, 6’ 1” (185 centimeters) so being taller than him is something he didn’t really expect

- Tbh he thinks you’re standing on something when he first sees you, but he does a double take and is like ‘Oh shit’

- The second thing he thinks when he meets you is ‘..how?’

- You’re not sunshine and rainbows vomiting kittens or anything, but your a lot more upbeat and kinder than the others there

- “Cool Billy Joel shirt, you got a favorite song?” “Yeah actually, (i know nothing about billy joel) is my favorite.”

- He really assumed that everyone was going to be dickish off the batt but apparently not

- He’s happy he don’t feel like his life is in danger with everyone when he first gets introduced

- He’s also happy someone *cough* isn’t calling him a cunt every 5 minutes

- When he first notices the the vaguely vain behavior, it annoys him a bit (in reality it’s more of jealousy, he wishes he could have faith in himself like you do) but once he sees you in action he understands, working with The Boys is hard, dealing with supes is hard.

- It also kinda scared him a bit, he really didn’t want to think you where an asshole

- Honestly the fact that your alive after everything gives you a pretty decent reason to be a tad vain in his mind

- With your confidence+sweetness he’s not sure if he wants to be you or be with you

- He soon realizes it’s mostly attraction a bit admiration

- I headcannon that he is so insanely bisexual it’s crazy, so being with a dude isn’t something he has to really work through or convince himself of

- Like he just grew up knowing and never really questioned or cared about it

- But he doesn’t realize he actually has a crush on you untill later in the series, maybe around late season two after LampLighter happens. (i feel like that kinda made him realize some stuff about himself)

- But he takes WAY longer to actually try and make a move on you

- like start of season four is when he even starts to make a move

- But he’s got that nerdy white boy thing and chances are you ask him out first

- You totally break out all the stocks, flowers, candy, stuff like that

- He is flattered, flustered, and scared

- Unlike Starlight you don’t have powers, and while you are amazing at your job he’s still scared that you’ll become a bigger target because of his affiliation with Homelander and Newman.

- But honestly we all saw how he literally stood up to Homelander when he insulted Starlight, once yall are in a relationship he ain’t backing down for shit (Unless you ask, he’s very respectful of boundaries)

- okay i’m circling back to the height thing,

- he would enjoy it a LOT

- He’s always been the taller one in relationships, it was nice to switch it up a bit.

- He also enjoys how someone else can share the struggles of being tall with him

- (small stupid thing but if yall move in together you have one hell of a time finding a bed that actually fits)

- Because of how tall you both are it’s easy to find one another in crowds, Hughie really likes that fact (he’s scared that if he can’t find you then something horrible has happened to you)

- Butcher pokes fun at both of you but in the dumbest ways imaginable

- “Ere’ come the fucken’ inflatable tube couple.”

Watch me make an actual fic about this

[unformula1]

sun and earth (LS2 x reader)

sun and earth (LS2 x reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ synopsis: you love him. he can’t love you back. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ pairing: logan sargeant x reader w/c: 1077 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ a/n: kinda poorly written but i hope it still makes you cry!! i'll edit it soon. sorry for lack of fics, i've been sick (very). masterlist(read more) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You love Logan. You definitely do.

“You’re such a dickhead.” Logan says as he punches your shoulder gently, but hard enough to cause you to stumble.

“I’ve got a very strong point there!” You regain your balance and punch him back.

“I do not… look like a cat.” He says, his smile growing as he does so.

“You’re literally doing it right now.” 

“I am not.”

“You definitely are. Look at yourself.” You shift to the side so Logan can see himself through the glass panel.

“Okay… well I don’t see it.” Logan crosses his arms, making his chest bulge in a way you would never get over.

“Well…” You stutter slightly, keeping your eye on his chest.

“Well?” He questions, causing you to snap out of your staring.

“I’ll put them side by side, then maybe you’ll see!” You quickly regain your composure.

He scoffs and ruffles your hair which sends a weird chill down your spine, you shiver slightly.

“You know, I think you’re like… the sun in my life.” Logan stuffed his hands into his pockets as he says.

“What a weird analogy.” You comment, scoffing as you do so.

“Shut up. I’m trying to compliment you.” He says, rolling his eyes and punching you on the shoulder.

“Fine. If I’m the sun,” You drag the last word, “Then you are the Earth!”

He raises an eyebrow and gives you a blank stare that screams ‘I don’t know what you just said’.

“You’re pretty, and gorgeous, or something like that.” You say, trying to sound as nonchalant as you can.

“Aw…” He drags the aw and scrunches up his face.

It’s adorable, you’ve never seen anything like it and you don’t think you will. Logan makes your heart flutter in ways you never knew could ever happen. Before him it was always you in charge, but somehow, someway, Logan changed everything.

All of a sudden you were killing to get him to look in your direction and nothing meant more than him smiling at you. You knew you liked him but did he like you back? You didn’t know and you weren’t willing to take any chances.

-----------------------------------

“Hello?” Logan’s voice comes from across the phone when he finally picks up your call.

“Hi.” You say back, loud music blasting in the background.

“What’s up?” He asks you, concern rising in his voice.

“I need… uhm… a ride back home.” You reply.

“Send me your location, I’ll be there in 10.” He says.

“Thanks Logs.” You say as you hang up and send over your live location. 

You clutch your phone tightly as you wait outside the door. The party had gotten hectic and chaotic within minutes and you don’t think you have the energy to deal with all of that.

Leaning against the wall, you wait patiently for Logan to come over. 

It takes him about 20 minutes to get here, which felt like forever, but when he pulls up, you waste no time before getting in the car and slamming the door shut. You take a huge sigh of relief as you lean back into the chair.

“Jeez, was it that bad?” He says, driving off.

“Horrible I say.” You sigh loudly as you buckle your seatbelt, “Thanks… for coming to get me.”

“No problem. Sorry I was a little late.”

“Don’t worry, you were- like the 50th person I called.” You admit, leaning back further into the comfort of the chair.

“Really?” He says with a tint of confusion.

“Yea, no one else was free.”

“Damn… glad I could help you out.”

“You’re an amazing friend. Sometimes you feel like my boyfriend.”

What.

What did you just say?

The words that escaped your mouth finally process and your eyes widen as you pray hard Logan doesn’t react too much about the words. 

“What?” He says with a chuckle.

“Nothing.”

“Boyfriend?” He teases, wiggling his eyebrows up and down.

It’s hot, unbearably so, but you push the blush that wants to surface back down. You take a deep breath and try to quickly diffuse the situation.

“Yea, because you’re- like really close and really protective and all that,” You start rambling, “Not because of- like, romantic or anything, you know?” 

“Mhm…” He says, clearly suspicious.

The next few minutes are awkward, the tension could be sliced with a knife.

“Do you… want me to be anything more than a friend?” Logan breaks the silence.

You shuffle your feet and fiddle with your seatbelt. You know your answer, and you’re pretty sure he does too.

You clear your throat.

“Right…” Logan responds, turning the corner, getting onto the street your apartment was on.

“You know…I have to make quite a lot of sacrifices to be where I am and to maintain that.” He starts.

“Yes, of course, and I don’t want to get in the way of that.” You desperately hope this doesn’t go south.

“And you know how it’s sometimes really hard to make those sacrifices.” He continues.

It’s starting to become draggy.

“Well, I hope you understand, that you and I being friends… is going to have to be one of those. Those hard sacrifices.” Logan says, his tone growing solemn.

“Right… you can’t exactly… be something with me because of… things.” You reply, shuffling your feet more.

“I love you.” Logan says as he pulls up to your apartment.

“But sometimes, I can’t love the people I want to.”

You nod, the tears fighting their way out, streaming down your cheek. You look down, hiding the tears from Logan as he stops to let you exit the car.

“I’m sorry…” Logan says. He doesn’t strike any eye contact and his face is gloomy. He hates that he has to do this and you know that.

“It’s…” You say between the sobs, “Yea no, It’s fine.” 

You don’t make any eye contact as you exit the car. The tears become real and you try your best to wipe them away as you walk into your apartment. Once you’re in the safety of your house you break down. Falling to your knees, you drop everything else and just cry.

It hurts you knowing you could never have Logan.

The Sun and the Earth. The Earth needs the sun for its life, but if it gets too close, it burns; so whether they like it or not, they’ll remain the same distance apart for their entire lives, never being too close to each other.

[quichein-me-softly]

Hi! sorry to bother but I was wondering if you could do a sans x reader where it's like a first kiss scenario? It's alr if you can't! Have a great day!!

Author's note: No bother at all! And I'd actually like to thank you for being my first ask! Feel free to return with any new ideas lol

first kiss w/ sans

The stars shimmer softly above, casting a gentle glow over the empty picnic spot. The last of the laughter had faded, and the quiet hum of the night settled around you.

The day had been loud—filled with chatter and cheerful chaos. Papyrus and Undyne’s friendly bickering echoed over the hill as they teased each other about their sparring match, Alphys trying (and only half-succeeding) to wrangle Frisk into helping with an experiment that’d apparently gone awry, Toriel chiding Asgore over a mix-up with the picnic basket.

But they've all gone home, leaving you with only the soft sounds of the night and the gentle presence of Sans beside you.

He leans back on the blanket, hands tucked behind his head, staring up at the stars with that familiar, lazy grin of his. “gotta hand it to ya, sunshine. pretty solid idea for a get-together. beats grillbz any day.”

You laugh, nudging him lightly. “Oh, come on, nothing beats Grillby’s in your book.”

“eh, fair point. still, wouldn’t mind doin’ this again. maybe next time, i’ll even bring my… stellar humor.”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “Oh, no. Please spare me the space puns, Sans. I don’t think I can take any more.”

“oh, c’mon, ya gotta admit, they're outta this world.”

You groan, hiding a grin. “Alright, I right walked into that one.”

"i call that a job well pun," he replied with a wink. You groan.

Then, you both fall into a comfortable silence, the night sky stretching endlessly above. The darkness wraps around you, serene and familiar, and you feel yourself relax into it, savoring the quiet, steady rhythm of simply being by his side. The world feels distant, leaving just the two of you, sharing a peace that needs no words.

After a moment, you tilt your head towards him, a thought surfacing as you gaze up at the sky. “Did monsters ever make wishes down in the Underground?” The question comes out softly, as if you’re afraid to break the spell of the moment.

“wishes, huh?” he echoes, his gaze staying fixed on the stars.

Sans' smile softens, and for a fleeting moment, you see something deeper in his gaze. "yeah… yeah, we did. used to make ‘em all the time."

He pauses for a few seconds, choosing his next words carefully. "wishin' and waitin'… was kinda all we had, y'know? we'd look up at the crystals in waterfall, just hopin' someone out there might actually hear us." There’s something soft and somber in his tone, something that speaks of countless nights spent in darkness, staring up at artificial lights and longing for something… different.

As if the universe was listening, a shooting star streaks across the sky, a brief but brilliant trail of light. You catch your breath, feeling a little thrill as you shut your eyes and make a wish before the light disappears.

When you open your eyes, Sans is watching you with a faint, curious smile. “well, did ya wish for somethin’ good?”

“I did,” you reply, feeling your cheeks warm slightly. “What about you? Did you wish for anything?”

Sans leans back again, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pockets. He hesitates a little, his face a touch more serious. "heh, if i told ya, it wouldn't come true."

But there’s something in the way he’s looking at you now, lingering just a little too long, as if he’s forgotten to say something else. The silence stretches, and before he can stop himself, he mumbles, “can’t help it, though… feels like i might be fallin’ for ya.”

The words hang between you, and he visibly tenses, realizing what he’s just said. “uh, i mean—trippin’. heh, yeah. trippin’ for ya… guess i… gotta watch my step…” But the attempt to backtrack doesn’t fool either of you.

His face softens, the humor falling away as his gaze meets yours with something far more honest, even a little shy.

Heart pounding, you leaned closer, the fabric of your clothes brushing together as you whispered his name, barely able to find your voice.

"Sans?"

“what?” he murmurs, the word barely more than a breath, his voice tender and uncharacteristically soft.

Before you know it, you’ve closed the gap, your lips brushing his teeth in a feather-light touch. For a moment, he doesn’t move, and you worry you’ve crossed a line, that this might be too much—too soon. But then, his hand comes up to cup your cheek, hesitant yet grounding, as if he’s anchoring himself in the moment.

The kiss is soft and achingly gentle.

When you pull back, his eyes meet yours, carrying a warmth that speaks louder than any words. The moment hangs between you, charged with something fragile yet profound, neither of you daring to look away.

Finally he leans forward, his mouth brushing yours once more, this time with a little more confidence. The hum of his magic mingles with the crisp night air as he pulls you closer, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as he deepens the kiss. Each movement is careful and deliberate, as though he’s savoring something he’s barely dared to hope for. The kiss holds a quiet sincerity, making it feel precious—like he’s offering you a part of himself.

As you part, he lets out a soft, breathy chuckle, his eyes crinkling in that familiar way when he’s genuinely happy. The sound fills the quiet night, a soft echo of joy that lingers between you.

“So,” you say softly, trying to calm your racing heart, “what’d you wish for?”

He looks at you, his voice softened by a gentleness that feels almost like an answer in itself. “maybe i’ll tell ya someday…”

[skotchtapeowner]

Ok frens, I have some thoughts regarding episode 77 (latest free ep) so obvious spoilers ahead

Also, this isint me hopping on the Annabel hate train, I love her to the end of time, and I want to see her character be as morally grey as possible because that’s what makes her that much more compelling;

So a lot of people think that the wallening happened because Monty Will and Ada originally wanted to put Lenore in the wall first, but then Annabel stepped in and volunteered Duke (it coudnt have been anyone else) instead to protect Lenore. That in itself is very interesting but what I would find way more intriguing is if it really was Annabel’s plan all along…

Putting lenore in a wall benefits no one, monty likes toying with her and torturing her, so getting rid of her this early on would kinda ruin his fun, I still feel like deep down, ada still really likes lenore and the Annabel wouldn’t volunteer her for obvious reasons.

So then why put duke in the wall in the first place? Well as shitty as it sounds, duke disappearance benefits Monty and Annabel the most, Monty gets his room to himself and gets to get rid of Lenore right hand man, essentially being a way to torment Lenore, and Annabel gets to get rid of Lenore’s main distraction, since Lenore is messing up Annabel’s plan to protect her friends (she could also be a lil jealous of duke getting all her attention as well)

I also find the crime to be wayyyy too specific and complexe for it to have been purely Monty will and Adas idea, Annabel is a strategist after all, and it’s kinda the perfect plan to get rid of someone in these circumstances. If duke dies, he’s in a fuckin wall with no chance to escape, and dying in Nevermore means you get orbed. Assuming your orbed soul spawns where your body was when you died, dukes orb would be stuck in the wall with no way out and no way to be found. It’s litteraly impossible to find duke. If Annabel didint have anything to do with the original plan, I think Monty and co woudve just killed him and buried him somewhere, but that woudve left a trail that could be easily traced, and hi orb could’ve been free.

The question remains, are we really gonna hate Annabel for doing what she thinks is best to save her lover? She said it herself that she sees everyone around her as pieces to her game, so this isint a deceiving move on her part, at least for us the readers. And again, this all happened before the widows watch, so Annabel didint know yet just how far Lenore would go for her friends, if she knew this information before then she might not have done what she did. And of course the method at which dukes dissappearance is mega cruel, but we can’t forget that Monty is also a there and clearly had an influence on how he wanted things to happen.

Annabel being the one behind it all is ti me the most plausible and the most interesting story line, for the angst the drama and eventually the reconciliation (lennabel are endgame after all so them getting back together is inevitable).

No hate to this theory but if annabel was just protecting Lenore, and volunteered duke in her place, I find that it’s kinda a cop out, if you’re gonna make her villainous, might as well go all out right?

We also can’t forget that this is a one for all hunger games style story, people are going to be trying to kill each other left and right since there’s only one life, and we shouldn’t expect everyone to be all friendship first or whatever.

To me, morally grey/ corrupted characters are waaayyy more interesting m, and that’s litteraly the nature of Annabel’s character, just how far would she go to get her and Lenore out of nevermore? This series dosent pull any punches when it comes to morality, and that’s why I love it so so so so much, it’s brilliant story telling!

And then personally for me, my two favorite characters are Annabel and duke so this whole scenario is ripping me apart and I love it ✨

(Also, i wouldn’t be mad at all if I’m wrong and she did in fact do a wall swap, both possibilities are interesting!)