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honeekyuu · 4 months ago

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talk too much. [suna rintarou x reader]

twelve. lipstick

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a/n. you ever just miss a man so much you pick up a hobby again?

warnings: suna rintarou

✗ !!! minors do not interact !!! ✗

✗ !!! ignore timestamps !!! ✗

“We’re still on for Saturday, right?”

You swallow down the bite of dinner, smiling nervously into the camera. Suna’s got two fries in his mouth, and he’s not looking at you. His gaze focused very carefully on his drawing pad, stylus gripped loosely between his fingers and following the path his wrist sets with care.

It’s just after seven o’clock, but you’d been on the phone since two. He’d clocked quite a few extra hours in the studio this week due to some project deadlines, and you’d dutifully sat on the other end of a facetime call every night. Your own work remains undone, the problem set haunting you from the corner of your desk. You have a draft of a chapter for your writing class up on your monitor, your messy notes open on your laptop.

You’d been doing that more recently, too. Blatantly ignoring the responsibilities of your major to actually invest in your electives, this one in particular. You’d always been interested in writing, but it’d been more of a passing hobby than anything else. This class – and the encouraging feedback from your professor – had made it scarily real for you in the last few weeks, with a terrible, lingering hope filling you. A terrible hope that this might be what you’ve wanted to do this whole time. A terrible, nagging thought that the unopened problem set on your desk might be indicative of something bigger that you’ve been trying not to acknowledge.

You’re more than happy to set that issue aside to engage Suna’s conversation.

“Saturday?” you say, spooning more of your rice bowl into your mouth while you give him your attention. He only glances at you, eyes dropping to your mouth before flitting toward his own dinner shyly. He shoves nearly half of his burger in his mouth, only snorting when you watch in horror, before nodding.

“‘aturday,” he mumbles plainly, and you have to pull up your calendar because you know that’s all you’re getting.

PUMPKIN PATCH – DON’T FREAK.

Well, that’s not helpful.

Your chest swarms with nerves, and you do your best to appear as though a brick of fear hasn’t just come down over your head.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.”

He sees right through it, swallowing while he cuts you a disbelieving glance. “You’re so nonchalant and cool.”

You laugh, hiding behind a hand. “Sorry, I’m freaking out.”

“Me, too.”

His honesty is disarming as always.

“Yeah?”

“Incredibly. But I still wanna do it.”

You purse your lips, warming. “Me, too.”

A beat passes, and then a voice full of fond amusement. “Yeah? You sure?”

A roll of your eyes, the draw of his laugh when he sees it.

“Yes, Rinnie. I’m sure.”

A sigh of frustration masked as a laugh. “You’re so cruel for that.”

It’s hard to focus on your draft that night.

–

You take a deep breath and exhale slow. Slow.

Breathe in, turn to look at yourself in the mirror, this way and that.

Breathe out slow. Slow.

“It’s okay,” you say to yourself, breathing in slow and then breathing out slower. “It’s okay, it’s Suna.”

It’s Suna, the same boy you’ve been talking to for weeks – months, really. The same boy who’s proven again and again that he’s not like any boy you’ve ever met before. The same boy who’d asked to pick you up this morning, who’d asked to walk entirely out of his way to pick you up for a date. A date that he’d been pushing for since before either of you could consider it one.

“It’s Suna,” you breathe again, forcing yourself to be okay with how your hair looks. “Just a first date. With Suna.”

There are three quiet knocks on the front door, echoing around your apartment and into your bedroom.

Just a first date with Suna.

You start to sweat almost immediately.

“Okay,” you breathe, fanning your face with nervous hands and walking on shaky legs to your bedroom door. “Okay, I can do this.” You look around the living room as you cross it, making sure the space is tidy and lacking anything potentially embarrassing. You’d already checked five times, but one more couldn’t hurt.

By the time your hand is on the doorknob, your face is burning and your hands are clammy.

The man on the other side of the door doesn’t look much better.

It’s weird, meeting someone you’ve known for months.

The first thing you notice is that he’s tall. You’d known. You’d known he’d be tall, but fuck, he’s tall.

The second thing you notice is that he’s got dark features but light eyes. Green eyes, but black hair, black eyebrows. Green eyes, but inky black eyelashes that flutter over them. You’d known that too, from the photos and the calls, but his eyes are greener and his hair is darker in person. His clothes are just as dark, grey shirt tucked into black jeans and dark plaid flannel thrown over the top.

You notice the piercings and tattoos, too. The lip ring he tugs nervously between his teeth, the uneven number of piercings on his left ear and right ear, glinting in the light of your apartment hallway. The black ink peeking out from under the sleeves of his flannel, dark ink and pale, ringed fingers.

Pale, ringed fingers that are shaking just slightly, wrapped tight around a bouquet of flowers.

He looks exactly the same as he does in his photos – the familiarity is nearly overwhelming – but everything is new, intense. The reality of Suna Rintarou is stronger than it had been before.

“Hi,” you whisper, staring up at him with wide eyes. He stares back, looking just as stunned.

“Hi-” he breathes, cutting short and swallowing hard. You watch his Adam’s apple bob, ink on his throat moving with it. “-pretty girl.”

You’re not sure you’ll survive this day.

You shiver, breaking eye contact nervously and trying not to let the chills that his voice induces run rampant on your skin. “Do…” You glance over your shoulder and then back at him. “D’you wanna come in? For coffee or something?”

You watch his face redden in real time, watch his ears turn pink as he looks away from you.

He’s as nervous as you are.

“Sure,” he says quietly. “That sounds nice.” He follows you inside, stepping carefully into your foyer and looking around curiously while he takes his shoes off. “I like your place.”

You warm, padding into the kitchen to start making coffee. You’re distracted beyond belief, distracted by the overwhelming sense of Suna’s presence. It only worsens when you glance back to thank him and realize that he’d followed you down the hall. “Oh. Hi.”

His eyes scan your face – your wide eyes and surprised blush – and then he bites down on his lip ring, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “Hi. Am I making you nervous?”

Laughter bubbles out of you, and that wave of familiarity returns, washing away some of your anxiety about meeting him. You already know him.

“Maybe,” you tease, nodding back at the bouquet hanging limply in his hand. “But not any more nervous than I’m making you.”

Suna glances down, realizing that his hand is gripped so tight around it that petals are starting to shed off of the flowers onto your floor. “Oh-” He holds out the bouquet, grimacing when more petals float down between you. “This is for you.”

You smile, feeling a swell of giddiness rise in your chest – the one that you’ve always gotten with him, from the moment you started to fall for him. “I have some vases in that cabinet over the fridge,” you say, still grinning stupidly at him. His eyes twinkle, and you know he’s caught the tinge of domesticity in the way you talk to him. “Help me out, 6’3”?”

He sets the bouquet on the counter, never taking his eyes off of you. “Whatever you say, pretty girl.”

Oh, good lord.

You press a clammy hand to your heated face, watching him cross the kitchen toward you. You lean into the corner of the counter when he stops close enough to you that his scent washes over you, warm and comforting and so Suna and new that you have to fight not to gravitate toward him.

Suna reaches up with ease, pulling the cabinet open and plucking a small vase from inside. He smirks to himself while he does. “Why d’you keep these up here if you can’t reach?”

“So I can get pretty boys like you to do it for me,” you joke, basking in the nervous flutter of those inky black lashes and the sharp cut of those green eyes down to yours.

“Got a lot of pretty boys on your roster?” His voice drips in annoyance, but his face is a lovely pink color and he can’t seem to keep eye contact with you.

“Just one,” you say, your confidence leaving you when he hands over the vase. Your fingers brush against his, and your heart flies to your throat, the nerves unbearable. You turn away, filling the vase with water from the tap and putting far too much care into arranging the bouquet. You feel him behind you, feel his eyes burning through your skin as he takes you in.

“I like your jeans,” is all he says.

You glance down, taking in the light denim jeans and burnt orange cardigan you’d spent way too much time picking out last night. You’re not the biggest fan of how the jeans fit you, mainly because they’re much more form-fitting than you’re used to, but you’d really wanted to try something new for him. To show him how far you’ve come.

“Thanks,” you whisper nervously. “I’m still getting used to them.” He doesn’t say anything, but there’s a large part of you knows that he doesn’t need to. You can feel his pride from here, washing over you in waves of heat.

You turn back to him, leaning all your weight on the counter so you don’t collapse. “I like your outfit, too.”

His grin is torture, you’re sure of it.

“Thanks,” he mumbles. “I tried really hard today.” When you just beam up at him playfully, he sighs in defeat and looks away. He scans over all the things on your fridge, lingering on the polaroids of you with your friends while he speaks. “‘s probably better if we skip the coffee and just go.”

Your face drops, and you blink in confusion. “Why?”

He just smiles in a way that feels self-deprecating, eyes locked on a photo of Alisa and Suga kissing each of your cheeks while you laugh. He swallows, staring down at it with something warm in his gaze. “If we stay here much longer, I’m not gonna wanna leave.”

He has no idea how okay with that you just might be.

Still, he’d promised you a pumpkin patch.

You step toward him, closing the distance and watching as his gaze flits to yours nervously. You press your chest to his while you reach past him for the fridge, pretending you don’t feel his breath stutter or the fingers that brush against your waist.

There’s another photo, just under the one he’d fixated on – it had been taken the same night, just last week in fact. A weeknight when the three of you had decided that bellinis and Breakfast Club could be the only cure to your end-of-semester stress. When Alisa had whipped out a cheap polaroid camera and demanded a photoshoot, when Suga had only been so glad to order delivery for more alcohol and raid your closet for stupid photoshoot outfits. When the three of you had gotten drunk and giddy enough for your newfound confidence – still shy and small and in no small way nurtured by the very man in front of you now – to make an appearance, encouraged in the whoops and hollers of your friends when they’d seen the new you come out.

When you’d climbed drunkenly into Alisa’s lap and let her take a sexy – incredibly blurry, but still sexy – snapshot of you, the memory of Suga cheering in the background while shaking his ass to the end track of Breakfast Club embedded in the glossy film of your smeared lipstick.

You’d kept the photo, too in love with the memories that had come with it. But you think maybe it would belong better elsewhere.

“Here,” you say, pressing the front of the photo to his chest while you back away, watching with warm ears when he takes it but keeps his eyes on yours. “You can keep that one in your wallet, if you want.”

His eyebrows lift in surprise, but you turn away and move back down the hall before you can watch him look at it.

Still, the hushed ‘holy shit’ echoes all the way to the foyer while you put your shoes on, and you bite down a laugh.

“Ready to go?” you call, tying up your sneakers and hearing Suna rush unsteadily out of the kitchen.

“Y-Yeah, sorry,” he calls back distractedly. Glancing up through your lashes, heart pounding in your ears at your own courage, you catch as he tucks the photo away in his wallet, just behind his ID. He folds his wallet carefully and slips it in his front pocket, inked fingers still trembling slightly.

You walk out after him, locking the door and following him down to the nearest bus stop. He can’t seem to decide if he should stand a friendly distance from you while you wait or if he should press his side against yours, so you linger closer to him to let him know it’s okay. He flushes but steps right up to you, facing you and using his frame to block the wind when he sees how you tense against it.

You stand in a silence that’s somehow both comforting and unnerving, meeting his eyes and then looking away nervously. He just watches you, lips pulling into a fond smile every few moments before he remembers to smother it. He reaches out to you after a while, running cold fingers over your ears and tapping the tips of his fingers against your done-up hair, grinning when you give him an empty glare.

“I like these,” he mumbles, toying with your dangly pumpkin earrings. His thumb brushes over your jaw and then your cheek, and then he finally drags it lightly against your bottom lip, your lipstick coming off a little on his skin. “Pretty.”

You inhale sharply, head swimming with the feel of his fingers and the smell of him – of his clothes and his cologne. So gentle and warm, yet so goddamn overwhelming.

You look up at him through your lashes, parting your lips just slightly, and his eyes grow wide as he stares down at you. He blinks in surprise, and you’re not totally sure what’s just happened. But his thumb leaves your lip, and you find yourself turning toward it, chasing the feeling for just a moment longer. Chasing him for just a moment longer.

The sound of the bus turning the corner breaks the spell Suna Rintarou’s put you under.

You blink rapidly, taking a small step back and watching Suna swallow hard. His face is redder than you think the wind can be blamed for, but he just turns and holds a hand out to help you onto the bus. Your skin burns where it touches his, and you shyly show the driver your student ID before leading Suna down the aisle, his fingers interlacing with yours the moment you start to pull away.

He’s grinning to himself when you finally choose a seat. You roll your eyes but let him rest your hands in his lap.

After a moment where he’s checking how many stops are left, he pulls out a pair of corded headphones, holding one out to you.

“Want me to show you my sick music taste?”

You laugh, thankful you’d chosen a seat in the back, because the way you’re looking up at him is nothing short of pathetic.

He unlocks his phone, but it opens immediately to a paused YouTube video of a famous Pokemon gamer streaming a playthrough. You lift your brows, staring up at Suna with knowing eyes. He flushes and hurries to close it out.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “I was watching it on my walk over to calm my nerves.”

You giggle and point down to his screen. “Put it on, then.”

He scoffs. “Yeah, okay.”

“No, really,” you insist. “Put it on. I wanna watch it.”

He turns to you with wide eyes. “There’s no way in hell you want to watch this.”

You roll your eyes and take his phone, rewinding the video a bit and pressing play. You try to catch up with all the new information while Suna just stares down at you. You hum after a second.

“So, it’s a Nuzlocke?”

He doesn’t answer you, only blurting out, “You’re the girl of my dreams”. You laugh, glancing around the crowded bus before shaking your head and returning to the video.

“Yeah, you mighta mentioned that once or twice.”

–

The wind is sharp out in the middle of the pumpkin patch, but you can’t tell if your cheeks are red and stinging from that or from the sheer force of smiling so much.

Suna makes you laugh like it’s his job. He whispers quick one-liners in your ear or into your hair, smiling against the crown of your head when you hide your grin behind your hand.

He treats you like a princess, holding your hand so you don’t trip on the vines and uneven ground while you pick out a pumpkin to take home. He carries everything for you, despite your complaints, and makes a point of still holding your hand.

And when you finally manage to find a large tote bag to shove all your souvenirs into – designated home pumpkin, popcorn, apple cider donuts, and a variety of knick knacks – he all but fights you for possession of it in the middle of the gift shop. You let him win, and as a reward, he keeps his chest pressed against your back while you wait in line for a short hay ride, one hand – fingers cold and rings colder – pressed to your waist under your cardigan, your skin pebbling under his touch.

He leans down to listen to you talk about nothing in particular, and you wonder, as the line trudges slowly along, if he realizes that his other arm is wrapped tight around you, his thumb hooked through one of your belt loops. You wonder if he realizes that the quiet push and pull of mutual nerves that had kept its hold on you all day is finally falling away, his comfort shown in the way he grabs and holds you like you’re his.

You wouldn’t mind that so much.

You finally reach the front, and he helps you up onto the hay ride, the two of you finding a little spot in the corner. Suna sets your bag between his knees but lets it sit right on his feet, the cloth tote never touching the floor of the wagon. You hum, watching him do it.

“Do you have sisters?”

He blinks, glancing at you in surprise. “A younger one, yeah.”

“Are you close with her?”

He smiles, still confused. “Sometimes…?”

You just laugh, looking away and taking in the view outside the ride. “I can tell. You don’t let bags touch the floor.”

He glances down at his feet. “I-” He laughs. “She told me it was bad luck. Smacked me over the head with her purse once.”

You grin fully, your cheeks hurting again, and shake your head. “Not tryna risk any bad luck today, Rinnie?”

He barks out a laugh, hiding his face in your hair when a couple glances back in amusement.

“I’m still not sure how I got you to like me,” he whispers against you. “I’m not risking shit.”

The ride stops outside of a large corn maze, and other people file off of the wagon slowly. You wait until it’s nearly empty to stand, taking him with you, but you stop him from leaving, pulling him back quickly and rising onto your tiptoes to whisper in his ear.

“You can afford to risk a little bit more.”

And then you plant your lips on the corner of his mouth in a kiss so chaste that he barely has time to inhale before you’re gone. You hop off the ride on your own, taking off toward the maze. He calls after you loudly, laughing when you just disappear into a wall of corn.

You race through a whirlwind of corn stalks and trip over the uneven ground, hearing as Suna crashes into the maze behind you. Your heart jumps to your throat, and you lead him deeper into the middle of nowhere, accidentally scaring no fewer than three other groups of people and apologizing quietly while your name echoes behind you.

You stop after a few minutes in a clearing, instantly regretting the decision to run and doing your best not to pass out right there. You barely hear him behind you, slowing to a stop and watching as you bend over to catch your breath.

“You lost, pretty girl?”

You jump, whirling on one foot, only to find Suna’s already crossed over to you. There’s a smudge of lipstick on the corner of his mouth.

“Okay, listen,” you start, laughing wildly as you back away. “Just listen for a sec-”

He grabs your outstretched hand and yanks you toward him, keeping you there with one arm wrapped around your waist.

“Did you mean that?” he asks, smiling as you try to wriggle free. “That I should risk more?”

“Okay, listen-” you laugh, pushing your hands against his chest. “I was just playing around-”

Suna’s mouth on yours tells you that he’s not.

The chills start in the crown of your head and wash down over you in an instant. Your heart stops in your chest, and when it starts again, it’s everywhere, all at once. His lip ring is cold on your mouth, but his lips are so unbelievably warm. And when he pulls away just enough to whisper to you, his breath triggers every nerve ending in your body.

“Fuck,” he whispers, breath unsteady in his chest. Your head swims at the feeling of his heartbeat under your fingers. “Was that okay?”

You can only nod, your vision hazy and your mind completely blank. He shuffles against you harshly, and you realize belatedly that your bag had slipped off his shoulder and he’d fumbled to catch it.

“Sorry,” he breathes. “Didn’t want to let it touch the ground.”

You stare up at him, wondering how you could have possibly gotten so lucky with Suna Rintarou.

You take his face in your hands, pushing your lips against his and swallowing the quiet whine he breathes into your mouth.

He pulls you tight against him, and you push onto your tiptoes anytime he starts to lift too high, and he nearly drops you when you tug his lip ring between your teeth, your tongue passing nervously against it when he makes a sound that makes your toes curl.

You only realize that maybe this isn’t totally appropriate for a family-friendly venue when you hear a family in the distance, trying to figure out the way out of the maze. You push against Suna’s chest, watching as he takes a moment longer to process what’s going on. When he does, all he can do is blink down at you dumbly.

“Huh?” he breathes, face gradually burning a beautiful, rosy red that makes you want to do terrible things to this man.

You swallow your nerves.

“I think I’m ready to go,” you whisper, watching as confusion and then concern passes over his face. “If you’re ready to go.”

It clicks in an instant, and your heart skips when his eyes flick between yours before dropping to your lips, swollen and warm and completely his.

“Your place or mine?”

#talk too much #haikyuu #haikyuu smut #suna x reader #haikyuu x plus size reader

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anxi04 · 6 months ago

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Tim meeting Lex at a gala when he’s young. and becoming gossip besties with him

i finally wrote it after it infesting my brain enjoy

——————-

Tim thought the gala was going to be like most of the others, boring, annoying, nothing happening. And then he saw Lex Luthor. And he's a smart man, probably the only other smart person in here so why not start a conversation?

Lex thought this gala was going to be boring and a waste of time. And then this small child comes up to him talking about gossip that he didn't even know? And mentioning his incredibly secret cloning project he just started a week ago? He's going to be a villain and Lex wants to be on his good side.

————————

Tim sighed, annoyed. Gala's have always been incredibly boring, the only slightly fun things that happen at them have been either Bruce Wayne "tripping" over something and drenching someone else with whatever drink or liquid is near, or overhearing gossip, such as Robert Dewitt cheating on his wife with his brother. That was a fun day.

This gala is looking to be about the same as always, just even more boring. Bruce Wayne isn't attending (understandable, The Joker just broke out of Arkham again. He's sure there's a cover story for why Bruce isn't here but he doesn't care about that), no one is drawing attention to any scandals yet, or at least not in his ear range.

The only vaguely interesting thing here is Lex Luthor actually attending it for once. The man usually never spares a moment for anything aside from Metropolis (disgusting) and Superman. So there's at least one other smart person here but he also happens to be a super-villain (not that the general public knows) so… Not like Tim can just walk up to him and talk right?

"So as I was saying it really is quite unfortunate that your son won't take the company, I always thought he was a rather charming young man-" Fuck it Tim's gonna go talk to the super-villain.

"Have you heard about Rebecca Strawling?" Tim asks Lex, who absolutely did NOT jump at this child sneaking up behind him (seriously how did he do that? Even Superman, a man who constantly floats, can't sneak up on him.). Lex blinks for a second because, yes he had and holy shit what a thing that is, and also how does this child know? Also why is this child talking to him?

"That… Depends. What have you heard?" Lex says hesitantly. Despite Rebecca's… everything, she still hid it incredibly well. If Lex wasn't so bored at these gala's he would never have known, so either this child is just incredibly nosy, or possibly an actual smart person in this room. Either option would prove far more interesting than what he had been doing.

"Well I've heard about the several affairs she's had with everyone she claims to hate. Business rivals, the poor, queer people, her husband's family, and if it's to be believed her own family." And… Holy fuck, Lex had not been aware of that last bit. He raises an eyebrow at the ending which prompts a slight grin from the child as he takes his phone out. "I have evidence."

Does Lex actually… Enjoy being near a kid barely in the double digits? Absurd.

"You know Tim, that man over there? He's almost bankrupting his company and family by sending their money to a 'client.' I believe all his business partners are looking for someone to replace his spot." It's been an hour and a half. This is the most entertained Lex has been at one of these in decades. If Tim finds himself following the black hair, blue eyes orphan trend Lex will take him in himself so help him God. He's insanely smart, not only is he excellent at reading people and finding dirt on them easily, he's incredibly skilled at hacking without any proper training on it. This is a villain in the making and Lex will not let himself fall on his bad side.

"Now, I have a moral question for you Tim. What do you think the ethics on making a weapon out of a clone would be?" He's been toying with the idea of cloning Superman lately, however the actual… Making it a weapon has been bothering him. If it comes out an adult man it could easily decide it wants to do something else and rebel, however what would the effects be on making a child weapon that was created for that sole purpose? The effectiveness of it?

"Easy. Don't make the clone a weapon. It's either an adult clone who could choose to be a soldier, and actually listen to you, or decide it won't listen and possibly end up exposing you. If it's a child clone then sure you get a weapon for a few years but not having a choice would end up making them resent you. Give them a choice on it, just like the Sidekicks, like Robin, Kid Flash, Speedy, all them. I'd assume you would want a meta clone anyway and most meta's feel a sense of duty with their abilities so it'd be likely for them to decide something along what you want. Just a matter on if they like you and go with you, or turn to the other side." Tim answers without missing a beat and wow what a concerning sentence that would be to hear from a child if he were anyone else. As it is he's delighted by the response.

"Although cloning a Kryptonian would probably alter it, simply wouldn't get enough material so you would likely have to substitute some of the material for human and at that point use your own and raise the clone as a child." What. That's far too specific. "Oh, sorry I probably should've kept it more broad. Anyway you should update your security systems." Definitely a super-villain in the making. One that he very much wants to be on the good side of. On that note now he needs to update his whole system.

"Ah, Tim I'm glad you picked up. I'm a father now! I'd like you to meet my son, his name is Kon-El-"

"Oh, I've already met him. You actually interrupted our call. Kinda late on telling me." Of course.

"You know I could adopt you as well, get you from that bumbling buffoon that is Wayne."

"Yeah but then my crush would become incestuous." His what? Know what he can work with this. Tim is joining his family one way or another.

Finally. A moment of peace for Lex to sit down, drink some coffee, and watch a rerun of his favorite show. "Luthor!" Oh great, the boy scout here to ruin his plans. Oh and is that his group for comic-con? There's the man of steel himself, Wonder Woman, Batman and… Wait. Oh this will piss Kal-El off to be ignored.

"Timothy! I was just about to call you. You remember Robert Dewitt, correct? You'll never guess what he's done now." Lex grins, standing up. He was meaning to update Tim on this particular… Creature. He's one of their favorites to catch up on, purely because of the absurdity of his debauchery. Although this time does have a reason, after all there's reason for dear old Robert to get locked up this time and he's been making some comments about Lex lately and well he can't just let that slide now can he?

Tim blinks for a second then realizes what Lex just said. "Wait you know? Of course you do why wouldn't you.. Actually wait that doesn't matter what the fuck did Robert do? Last I knew he wasn't allowed outside without an escort so I was expecting longer." Lex has a feeling it does in fact matter very much if the way Batman's eyes narrow and his jaw clench indicate anything. Lex needs to continue on or possibly get put in a hospital.

"Oh he's no longer allowed near animal shelters, so-" Kal-El cuts him off, incredibly rudely if he might add.

"What… What is going on here?" Poor man sounds so confused. Lex is savoring this moment.

"Well I know Timothy Drake is Red Robin. Clearly. Red Robin is the hero closest to becoming a villain which fits Tim quite well, and also Tim is the only Gothamite smart enough to be Red Robin. And infuriating enough to personally annoy Ra's al-Ghul on a regular." It's very simple honestly. Lex has no idea what's making this so complicated. "If it helps make you all feel 'safe' and 'secure' I could tell you about the time Timothy told me he had a crush on Kon-" And now Tim's thrown something at him. What is this, interrupt Lex day?

"Shut up! What if I told them about you and Clark Kent?" Ahh, expose his crush, get his own crush exposed. Well unfortunately Lex has no shame about that.

"You mean the man who could lift a 200 lb person with no effort? One of the very few good reporters?" Odd that Kal-El's face is getting red and confused but oh well. "Honestly though, who cares. You know Tim my offer for adopting you still stands. I know it must be absurdly easy to hide being Red Robin from your… family. However I think I could be of more assistance still." Batman's hands are clenching now. Interesting. "I mean you made a fake uncle to get out of being adopted by the oaf, I don't know why you didn't just let me." Ah, Batman's hands are unclenched. He must have thought that uncle was also real. Surprising, really, from 'The World's Greatest Detective' however they clearly have the wrong bat. "And does he even know about your missing spleen? Really, I should get him locked up for child neglect. Even I would notice if anything happened to Kon-El."

Tim's eyes widen at that and snap to Batman's equally wide eyes. They both jump into a sprint, Tim leaping out of a window with the Bat close behind. "Oh, did he not know? Oops."

Perfect. Hopefully that'll have been absurd enough that the Justice League leave him alone, and he can watch his show in peace.

#tim drake #bruce wayne #lex luthor #chaotic tim drake #batfamily #tim drake is a menace #dc stands for disregard canon #lex and tim gossip besties #slight timkon #slight clark x lex #lex heard this 10 year old talk about a project he’s only been vaguely thinking of and instantly wanted to adopt him #to mold him into villainy ofc #tim denied the adoption. but he’s gonna marry into the family anyway so it’s fine #bruce was a gonna reopen the whole lex knowing tim’s identity once he figures out wtf happened to tim’s spleen #clark is leaving the encounter insulted and flattered

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chlorinecake · 7 months ago

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☆ ☆ ☆ You’re All Skin n’ Bones, Baby

— ⊹ ⛓️ 𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚 ♯ Trouble Maker!N.RK x Good Girl!Reader 🍴

⛓️ 𝗣𝗟𝗢𝗧 ♯ When your father, a.k.a the dean of your university, sets you on a quest to help the troubled transfer student from your art class rewrite the rebellious narrative staining his character, you two find yourselves falling for each other, discovering a new art of taking chances, making mistakes, and getting messy...

⛓️ 𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗔𝗜𝗡𝗦 ♯ Swearing, Awkward Situations, Riki Vandalizes Your University with Graffiti, Name-Calling (Flirting), Kissing (With Tongue), Hickeys (Kinda), Riki Has A Tattoo, Lingering Touches (Nothing Below The Belt), Suggestive Jokes, Reckless Behavior, Some Fluff and Angst if You Squint

⛓️ 𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗧 ♯ 4.2k ──── 「生きがい」

Friday, The Dean's Office, 3:32 p.m.

“Simply put, Riki is a very misunderstood youth, and you, _____, so happen to be one of the few people who sincerely understand him.”

You stared back at your father, who sat in his leather chair at his desk, a dumbfounded expression upon your face as you crossed your arms. “And you're telling me all of this because of what again?”

“Because I need your help,” Riki butted in from where he sat beside where you stood on your feet, drawing your attention back to his casual disposition.

From the way his long legs extended lazily before him to the way his black combat boots hit the ground with loud thumps every time his foot bounced out of boredom, the poor kid was just as big as his behavioral problems...

That is, roughly 187 centimeters worth...

However, in spite of his large stature and occasional bouts of clumsiness, Riki Nishimura was lighter than a feather on his feet when it came to dancing, a.k.a., one of the few things in his life that he found joy in, aside from you, his family, and the comfort of his bed...

Looking back at your father, he gave you a pleading look, hoping that he would somehow soften your heart without the use of any more words.

And it’s not that you didn't want to help Riki...

I mean, he was one of your closest friends, and you otherwise would've leaped at any opportunity to spend more time with him, so long as it wasn't under such circumstances.

In the past, your father never really approved of your friendship with Riki, simply because he had a track record of rebellion according to the other universities he attended and ended up getting kicked out of.

'A homeschooled delinquent,' some would call him, but you preferred sweeter names for him—names that described the real him.

It's just that the whole idea of having you, the “perfect student,” coach a more troubled peer seemed like a poor excuse of a publicity stunt.

Riki was much more to you than that... he deserved better than to be scrutinized like some sort of criminal just for being his authentic self.

And the odd reality was that you and the other kids at your university with allegedly clean records were no different from Riki.

All misguided and all a little reckless here and there...

Taking risks was part of being young, last time you checked.

The only difference is that Riki wasn't as good at hiding those parts of him like the rest of the students at your university were...

They were either forced or pressured to hide behind a mask that resembled good grades, perfect attendance... stuck within a cookie-cutter framework, and exhibiting perpetual compliance to the ways of the academic world—

“Fine,” you sighed, straightening your posture to appear more obliging than you were actually feeling, “but only if you promise not to make this some sort of project, Dad... Riki's my friend, not some charity case to make you look good.”

Your father scoffed at your insulting words. “What do you take me as, some kind of crook? Such a thought never even crossed my mind, _____,” he corrected sternly before continuing, “My concerns for Riki come from a good place and have nothing to do with what I can gain from you agreeing to help us-”

“Fix him, right?” You interrupt, making a shy smirk tug at the corners of Riki's mouth at the awkward tension in the room now.

“Honey, you know that's not what this is about,” your father sighs, getting up from his seat and straightening out his suit. “Riki is not a broken lamp that he should be fixed... but a lost soul in need of positive redirecting.”

“And who better to help than a fellow peer?” Riki winks at you, making you roll your eyes at him.

“Precisely,” the dean finishes, pushing his chair under the desk before making his way to the office door. “I expect you two to run into hurdles on this journey, but hopefully it's a process that helps you both grow... together...”

You shake your head, uncrossing your arms from over your chest as your father’s eyes flicker between you and Riki now.

“Oh, and one more thing, ____... this young man may be troubled to some degree, but he can certainly teach you a lesson or two on respect.”

Slam.

The office door closed slowly, but with its habitually loud locking sound, making your insides shake a bit.

You look back at Riki, who only had a shrug to offer you, though you knew your father was expecting you and Riki to see yourselves out of his office.

So y’all did, all the way to your separate homes, where you would dread the following Monday when Project: “Positively Redirect” Riki would commence!...

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Next Monday, ART Room 8080, 5:30 p.m.

The bottom of your ass was stinging given how long you had been sitting in the uncomfortable desk chair.

Your back had also started to burn with a similar pain, and the only thing that seemed to delight you amidst the lengthy "Elements of Art" lecture was once again the tall boy sitting beside you.

The voice of your instructor faded away in your ears as you observed Riki holding an ink pen, gliding its ball-tip against his skin in careful lines.

“You suck at drawing,” you whisper to him.

“And your mother’s a cow,” he retorts plainly, despite the smirk curling at his mouth.

From what you can tell, he was drawing a spiderweb in the shape of a heart on the inside of his wrist; The same romantic spiderweb design that was graffitied on your university's parking lot pavement a few days ago.

You always found it endearing how Riki's right wrist would be full of inky doodles by the end of each lecture, thanks to him being left-handed.

Though, other people found his habit to be odd… immature, even... and you never understood why those people even felt the need to speak—

“You’re really making an effort at this character development thing, aren’t you, babes?” You ask sarcastically, tilting your head at him now.

“Yup,” he answers matter-of-factly, eyes still trained on the inky design staining his pale skin.

You took in the expression on his face—the way his lips often poked out slightly like a duck whenever he focused on something.

It was a sight that always made you giggle inside… mostly because you found cute things to be humorous, but also because Riki had a way of making you feel all giddy for reasons you didn't fully understand—

“Wanna kiss ‘em or something?” He asked, looking you dead in the eye with his own piercing ones.

“E-excuse me?” You scoffed with both confusion and feigned disgust.

“I mean these,” he said, showing you the doodle of a skull on his wrist that had big, red lips to match the crimson bows at each pigtail. “Heard you like it juicy,” he continued, raising his eyebrows at you flirtatiously.

“Shut the fuck up,” you swear, shoving his shoulder slightly.

And with that, the class was concluded, and students were loading up their textbooks into their backpacks in every which direction—

“You’re really not that different from me, y’know that?” He said in a mocking tone, “Especially not with that raging potty mouth of yours...”

“I was provoked to use such language, you dick.”

“Then you have very poor emotional regulation skills for your age.”

...

“I’m leaving,” you say, getting up from the seat and slinging your bag over your shoulder, “have fun making out with your new dOodLe sKuLl giRLfriEnD... Heard you like ‘em skinny, anyways…”

“Pfft... Where’d you hear that crap?”

“Around,” you lied, knowing that Riki wasn't the type of guy to have weight preferences when it came to girls...

He only had personality preferences, and so far, you were his absolute favorite person yet, crumby attitude and all.

“Whatever,” he said, in between your brief voyage to the campus lockers where you put your things away. “Also,” Riki began again, leaning against his locker while looking at his reflection in the mirror, “should I... change?”

“What, your diaper?”

“No, my outfit, stupid. Unless you don’t mind being seen with a guy who looks like me these days...”

His words sting you for some reason, and you know exactly what he was trying to imply with that comment.

The other day, Riki heard your father complaining to an instructor in his office about student's not 'abiding by standards of clothing apparel,' and of course, the poor boy assumed the comment was specifically directed towards him-

“You look fineee, Riki,” you reassure him, closing your locker before caressing the side of his arm gently. “Besides, I'd never feel ashamed walking beside you... ripped jeans, piercings, and all...”

His mind paused for a second, focusing a little too hard on the way your touch somehow warmed him from both the outside and within.

“Hey,” you started, your voice pulling him back from his thoughts, “Earth to Riki...?”

“Y-yea, right... Earth,” he stammered, running a shy hand through his hair before adjusting his backpack over his shoulder.

“Let's get out of here, then,” you chuckled, walking down the hall now as he followed closely behind you.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Later, On Some Unknown, Majestic Path, 6:17 p.m.

You two made it to a bridge—the crossing road where you and him expected to straighten out the crooked mess of rumors and past infamies plaguing Riki’s reputation.

“You got the letter, right?”

The letter, he heard your words replay in his mind...

The very letter in which Riki divulged a sincere handwritten apology to the Dean of your university discussing his declining academic performance, poor behavior, aptitudes to improve, and blah fucking blah...

Anyone with a good head on their shoulders could tell that Riki was a fantastic artist, but every rose had its thorn, with Riki's impulsive creative side often getting the best of him...

Aside from going against the dress code and skipping classes, Riki recently vandalized school property with a spontaneous mural of skulls, spiderwebs, and other edgy doodles on the parking lot pavement.

Nobody knew he was responsible for it aside from you, and you had no intention of ratting him out for it...

Yes, it was an unusual design to see every morning at the center of such a prestigious university, but regardless of all that, you figured the graffiti looked pretty cool, actually...

Besides, it was an art school for crying out loud; weren't students supposed to express themselves here?

Or perhaps you only felt that way because Riki was responsible for it, but I digress.

“Yeah, I double checked before we left,” he said plainly, looking down the brick road ahead. “Oh, and uh... I know I've never showed you, but my place is actually the small one right over there… with the candle-like furnace on top... you see it?”

“Yeah, I see it,” you smile softly, just as you catch on to him walking ahead of you and down the right path instead of the left one.

“Hey, the dean's office is this way, remember?”

“Uh huh... and it’s still gonna be there when we get back.”

“Bro, where’re you going?”

“Bro, nowhere,” he replied mockingly, still walking away from you, “I just need to clear my head before sending this stupid letter… just in case I run into the dean or something...”

“And would that really be so bad?” You pressed, “I swear, it’s like everyone views my dad like a scary monster just because he’s doing his job...”

Riki felt himself internally gag at the reminder that you were in fact the deans daughter.

“Since when do you, of all people, defend your dad?”

“Hey, I may be a disrespectful fart towards him at times, but that doesn't mean I can't stand up for him.”

“Uh huh,” Riki nods skeptically, “he must be giving you extra brownie points and allowance for that shit or something...”

“Yeah, actually, he is! And I don't plan on sharing any with you, either... not my brownies points NOR my petty cash...”

“Good,” he retorts playfully, mirroring your bratty behavior, “my piggy bank likes being empty, anyways... PLUS, I’m trying to cut back on sugar these days...”

“Well, good luck with that then... citrus helps, though… with the sugar cravings, I mean.”

“I know... that’s why I’m hanging out with you... duhhh!”

“Oh, so you’re implying that I'm sour, now?”

“If the shoe fits,” he shrugs, and a few moments pass before you’re walking through a front door, through his living room, and eventually onto a balcony.

The house was so dimly lit that you couldn’t make out much of anything while inside, other than the smell of tea and leather cleaner.

“What d’you think?” Riki asks, spreading his arms out to show off, “Gnarly landscape, am I right?”

“You’re so right,” you agree, walking over to the ledge and observing the large pasture that made up his backyard. “It’s beautiful here.”

The two of you look over the edge for a while, folding your arms over the stone balcony until you catch him looking off to the other side, something about him immediately catching your attention.

“Woah?” You exclaim, finding your hands in his hair as you turn his head, examining the thing that caught your eye.

“Woah what? Is there a bug on me or something?” Riki asks, bending his knees slightly so you can reach him better.

“No, it's a tattoo.” You clarify, “I didn't know you had any real ones...”

“Oh yeahhh… I uh... I got that one a while back when I was in high school... I have another one, too, but it's under my clothes, so I can't show you until we're marri-”

“What's it say?” You ask with a whisper, examining the fine textures of inky Japanese characters staining the ivory skin behind his ear.

The tattoo in itself was relatively simple, but you believe that's what made it all the more stunning...

“Ikigai...” He answers with a deep voice, looking in your eyes with his own piercing ones, which makes you retreat your touch from his hair, “it refers to something that gives us our sense of purpose... our reason to live...”

The silence is so loud after he says that that the sound of distant birds and wind-chimes fills your ears as if you were wearing headphones.

That's when you hear a door hinge creak in the distance—

“Riki?! I don’t have my glasses on, but your bedroom looked oddly tidy and you never tidy your room, so now I’m worried—”

“In a minute, Grams!” Riki called out in a deep voice, resting his hands at his sides as he looked back at you, the elderly woman having stayed outside, keeping to herself.

Despite her few wrinkles, she was a perfect shadow of Riki, from her similarly fierce eyes, the long legs she stood on, to her plump, duck-like lips—

“What’s the deal with your face right now?” Riki asked, drawing your attention back to him.

“Oh, you mean my beauty?” You returned sarcastically.

“No, the other thing,” he corrected, “…made your eyes go all big and bright.”

“Oh… Possibly shock, then?”

“But from what cause?”

“Grams,” you repeated, looking over the balcony at the same shed-door the woman just came from. “I didn’t know you lived with anybody…”

“I don’t; she lives with me,” Riki continued, flicking a mosquito off his arm. “She’s kind of mental, so I gotta take care of her like she took care of me.”

“That’s sweet,” you murmur quietly to yourself, but he hears you anyway-

“What’d you say?”

“Nothing…”

“You definitely said something.”

“No I didn’t?”

“Haven’t I ever told you how terrible you are at lying?”

“No, actually,” you respond plainly, “But you have told me that you think I’m beautiful... well, indirectly, but it still counts.”

He furrows his brows at you. “When did I say that?”

“Literally a few seconds ago?”

“Seriously?”

“Damn… Now I'm starting to think you didn't mean it.”

“No no no, I meant it!” Riki says, raising his voice slightly, “P-probably...”

“Well, thanks anyway,” you return, looking back over the balcony at the sight of his grandmother roaming their garden.

“I think you're beautiful, too, Riki.”

A silence swarmed between you two now.

Not an awkward silence, but a silence nonetheless.

A pleasant peace…

Riki bit his lip to keep himself from smiling, but you had already noticed his expression by now, poking a finger at the apple of his slightly rosy cheek, making him swat your hand away playfully.

“Stop that or I'll bite you,” he threatens.

“But babyyy… you look so cute when you're blushing,” you teased, making the poor boy feel like he was just seconds from internally combusting because of you.

Riki never got worked up over compliments like this, but then again, you proved to have a stronger effect on his emotions… one that even you father could see.

“I seriously will bite you, ____,” he warns again through a contagious chuckles, grabbing a hold of your wrist at the same time your hand gripped his bicep, making him stop in his actions.

You two shyly meet each other's eyes now, faint smiles present on both your faces until you release your grip on his arm, his touch still remaining at your wrist.

“Riki.” You speak quietly, and for reasons you don’t understand at first… but that’s when he decides to speak up instead—

“I wanna show you one more thing,�� he starts, still holding your wrist as he steps up with a strong lunge onto the balcony ledge, resting his foot on the wooden plank attached to it.

“Riki, get down from there!” You shout.

“Not until you join me first.” He reasons with a smirk.

Judging from the way he briefly peeks down at the ground beneath him, you can already tell that he wants you to jump with him.

“Riki… I’m not doing that... I-I can't… and I can’t let you do that, either.”

Funny thing is, you said all of this while doing a lunge yourself, joining the tall boy on the balcony ledge and holding his hand tightly as you let your feet find the wobbly plank next.

“Why not?…” He presses.

“Because… you’re all skin and bones, baby,” you sigh nervously, feeling your heart rate increase with every passing second. “I’m afraid that I’ll either hurt you or that you’ll hurt yourself.”

Riki gives you a shady look now. “You have no idea how insulting that is to me, do you?”

“Be careful, asshole!” You shriek, his strength having tugged at your hand, making you tread even further down the plank now.

“Geez, would you relax, drama queen? I’m doing fineee, see? We’re fine… Just don’t let go of my hand until I say so, okay?”

“H-how am I even supposed to trust you in a state like this?” Your voice comes out just as wobbly as you feel in your knees, being sure not to look down as that would only make things worse for you.

“Hmm… not sure,” he shrugs, “But maybe it would help if you stopped policing me for like... one fucking second?”

“Fine. A second has passed, now can we PLEASEE go back to the bridge—ahhh!”

Riki jumps first, but because you were holding hands, you fall with him, tumbling into the grassy pasture before landing on top of him.

“That was fun, right?” Riki asks while scanning your face, wind knocked out of him; he's panting slightly beneath you, chest rising and falling given the rush of adrenaline he just received.

“Are we even alive right now?” You ask back, seriously not being able to believe that you both survived such a fall... everything around you seemed light, and you weren't sure if that had something to do with your head spinning or something worse. “Please tell me this isn’t heaven.”

“Not unless you really think that’s what being on top of me feels like…”

You gave him the deadliest side-eye you could muster—

“Shut the fuck up,” you curse him, making a light chuckle rumble in his chest.

For a brief moment, you look up, just now realizing that Riki’s backpack was scattered among the grass with all of his school supplies decorating the landscape.

Sighing, you planted your palms on the ground before trying to get up, only for the strength of Riki’s arm to keeps you down, fusing your body’s together.

“Riki, the dean's office is gonna be closing soon, we gotta get going-”

“And my future can wait, ____,” he said, looking into your eyes, “just let me enjoy this moment in the present for a little longer, alright?”

You wait to answer before eventually nodding, watching his chest heave slower now, but still in a rising and falling manner.

“You're nervous about something,” you whisper, even though it was more like a question to him.

You felt your stomach flutter at the way his hand was secured at your waist now, trailing up to the side of your face with his other hand.

“I am,” he says plainly, voice deep and vulnerable, “so please, just... don't say anything or else you'll make this worse for me, okay?”

“You're not about to try and kiss me, are you!?” You ask, screwing your eyebrows at him.

“And just like that, you made it worse for me,” Riki sighs, not being brave enough to meet your eyes anymore.

His hands leave your body, falling beside him as if he were about to start making snow angels in the bed of grass.

“You think you deserve a kiss—of all things—after almost getting us killed just a few seconds ago?”

“I meannnn,” he starts, looking back at you now before repositioning his hands behind his head with latticed fingers, “one kiss wouldn't hurt, right?… Maybe even just a few…”

No words are exchanged from this point.

It just becomes a moment of you two looking at each other, your hands roaming up his torso now as you sit up to straddle him, keeping him pinned to the ground with your weight before placing a kiss on his cheek.

“You're a very odd boy, Riki Nishimura,” you say, watching a smile spread across his face as his skin still tingled where you kissed him.

Your hands find his that were tucked beneath his head and put them back around your body like they were before.

“I may be odd, but the least you can do is kiss me normally,” he whispers, taking hold of your face and crashing his lips into yours, eyes fluttering shut at the blissful contact.

And it feels too good to say it's your first time... It feels too right...

You tilt your head to deepen the contact, making him hum beneath you at the sudden way you took control again, feeling his hand gently cradle the nape of your neck.

“Please,” he says breathlessly in between, catching on to the way your body shuddered when his touch went under your shirt, resting at the dip of your waist, “Don't make me stop yet...”

And all you can do is pant in response, feeling your heart rate increase with the passion as his tongue just barely comes into contact with yours, making you melt into the warmth of his lips even more.

But his delicate fingers are cold as they touch you, not necessarily wandering, but inching their way up from your waist to the side of your ribs, only to pull you closer as your bodies meshed into a sprawl of flustered feelings.

“You just can't get close enough to me, can you?” You ask him through a quiet breath, making him chuckle slightly as your catty question.

“Don't rub it in, dweeb,” he replies with a raspy voice, just as a low groan slips past his pretty lips, and you're just now realizing that you were kissing along his jawline, his head thrown back against the grass as your soft lips kept peppering his skin, “I'm actually enjoying what you're doing to me for once...”

And his last sentence comes out so quietly, you otherwise would've missed it if you weren't right by his neck, humming with each kiss you placed against him, making his grip at your waist tighten slightly until you abruptly pulled away, looking back at him with your own fuzzy vision...

Despite that, you could still make out the lovesick expression taking over his gorgeous features, both his heart and mind in a haze as he looked back at you, purity dancing in his eyes.

“W-why'd you stop?” He stammers, almost pouting as a smirk tugs at the corner of your mouth now, your own cheeks being dusted a rosy hue given the blood rushing to your face.

“Because,” you say plainly, crawling off of him now as he lets out an exaggerated sigh, sulking at the missing warmth of you straddling him, “that's all you deserve for the day.”

“And tomorrow?” He presses, eyes half-lidded.

“I'll tell you after we deliver this letter to the dean,” you say, looking up at the window to his house, “and when your grandma isn't watching us...”

“Wait, she's what?”

Riki sits up now, whipping his head almost instantly in the direction of his house to see what you were still blushing about, and it was none other than his grandmother, clapping in the distance at the sight of you and Riki laying beside each other on the grass.

“So that's why you've been tidying up recently; you've met a pretty girl,” she says in an old voice, making him hide his face with his hands while groaning with embarrassment. “Awww, don't be shy; she just had her lips all over you... Oh, and I'm his grandmother, by the way!”

“Nice to meet you,” you say while giggling, watching Riki practically crumble to pieces, knowing that his grandma had just seen everything.

"Well, make sure you two don't stay out too late... it's getting dark,” the woman warned, even though it was still relatively sunny outside.

Must be her vision, you thought to herself.

“Got it, Grams,” Riki sighed, sitting up now with a forced smile as he waved his grandma off, the door creaking behind her as the sound of her television program faded off with the melody of her laughter.

“You good?” You ask, catching on to the way Riki's sight pans off now, a certain thought rising to his mind as he took a few shaky breaths.

“Y-yea, I'm alright,” he answers, not meeting your eyes until he asks, “You didn't bite me, did you?”

His fingers find his neck now, grazing over the light pink spot where you had kissed him, but it was only that color because of your lip balm, not because you bit him.

“I might have nibbled, yes...” You start timidly, trying to hold back a smile at the way his eyes widened now, worried that you might mark him. “Don't blame me though when you started it.”

“No, I didn't, you blood thirsty vampire,” he scoffs with over-exaggerated offense. “There's a mark on me now, isn't there?”

"No, you idiot... Besides, I wouldn't want your grandma to have a hickey as her first impression of me,” you correct, getting up from the ground now to collect his scattered school supplies from around the yard.

Your words lingered in his mind for a bit.

A girl like you leaving a bad first impression? The thought seemed foreign to him, but at the same time, comforting...

He was finally starting to see things the way you saw them. You and him really weren't all that different—just two people from different walks of life, upholding varied reputations, but still and all with kindred spirits.

Spirits for fun and adventure... youth and romance...

“Wasn't even worth it,” you mumbled to yourself, picking up the envelope that was now stained with a bit of dirt given the fall.

“What wasn't worth it?” He repeated, looking over his shoulder to find you on your knees in the grass, hair slightly disheveled from all the action.

“Jumping, first of all... and second, kissing you...”

“Right,” he says while drawing out the syllable, side-eyeing you with his legs crossed, “Because I definitely told you to get on top of me and kiss all over my neck like a human mosquito.”

“Trust me, I regret doing that.” You tease, fake gagging, to which he chuckled at you, “Your lips tasted weird, anyway...”

“Pfft... weird how?”

“Sour,” you poke, making him look down in his lap, smiling at the memory of you two in the hallway earlier.

Eventually, he gets up to help you gather the rest of his textbooks, pencils, notes, and chocolate bars that fell from his backpack, holding it open as you loaded it up and set trail back up the hill you just jumped off of.

“And you're sure this whole letter thing is still a good idea?” He asks, adjusting the strap to his backpack over his shoulder as you two walked beside each other.

You take a second to glance at yourselves, taking in the light of your messy clothes, blushing faces.

"Oh, you’re definitely still sending that.”

“Cool… But should I revise it at all since we have extra time?”

“Maybe tomorrow,” is all you say, taking his hand in yours as y’all walk side by side...

⛓️‍💥 AUTHOR'S NOTE — I've had this fic collecting dust in my drafts since July of this year, but @microwvdstrawb3rri3s reminded me that my blog has been long overdue for a new Niki fic, so I decided to post it finally.... Also, I'm adding a special tag here for @bambangan because I REALLY feel like she‘ll enjoy this fic (considering how Niki's character is pretty similar to how I wrote for him in my Flirty TSA Series a while back 🤭)...

tysm for reading this quick lil fic !! ✗⚬ﾒ𝟶 a/n ℓօⓥe always ⋆⋆⋆ and feel free to check out my masterlist for more !!

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ( 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 💌 ) @squoxle @nishiimuranights @wonbinisbabygurl @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @watamotee33 @addictedtohobi @microwvdstrawb3rri3s

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prettygirl-gabi · 4 months ago

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Chapter 2: Caught on Camera

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: none

Fandom: Women's basketball

Paring: Paige Bueckers x ! Photographer fem reader

Summary: is this thing still on?... I hope not....

Welcome to chapter 2 of Through The Lens. I hope you all enjoy and there is more to come...stay tuned my loveies!! 🏀💕📸... if you wanna be added to the tag list let me know!

Avoidance was becoming a bad habit of mine. After the incident with Paige and my shattered camera turned into an internet meme, I couldn’t bring myself to face her—or the team, for that matter. Every social media platform I opened featured the clip: Paige’s epic block, the ball ricocheting, and the destruction of my beloved camera. People had even started adding exaggerated sound effects and captions like, "When life hits you hard…literally."

To make matters worse, Paige addressed the incident during a post-game interview, her sheepish smile making me squirm every time I replayed it in my mind.

“It was an accident,” she had said, laughing softly. “I feel really bad about it. Y/N’s an amazing photographer, and I hope I haven’t scared her off for good.”

Her words made my chest ache, but I still avoided the team practices. I stuck to photographing games with my new camera, keeping my distance from the players—especially Paige.

That’s where KK came in.

“Y/N, you can’t avoid us forever,” KK said, sliding into the seat beside me in class one afternoon. Her tone was light, but there was a hint of mischief in her eyes that I didn’t trust.

“I’m not avoiding anyone,” I replied defensively, keeping my gaze on my notes.

“Right,” KK said with a smirk. “That’s why you haven’t shown up to practice all week.”

I sighed, slumping in my chair. “It’s just… easier this way.”

KK rolled her eyes. “You know Paige feels terrible, right? She keeps asking about you.”

My stomach flipped, but I quickly pushed the thought aside. “I’m fine. She doesn’t have to worry about me.”

KK didn’t say anything for a moment, and I thought I’d won the argument—until she spoke again, her voice casual.

“Hey, can you stop by the gym tonight? Coach wants to see some of the practice shots you’ve taken for the project.”

I frowned, suspicious. “Coach? Why would he need to see them now?”

KK shrugged, her expression unreadable. “I don’t make the rules. Just swing by, okay?”

That’s how I found myself at the gym later that evening, camera in hand. The space was eerily quiet, the faint hum of the overhead lights the only sound as I stepped inside.

“Coach?” I called out, my voice echoing.

Instead of Coach, Paige emerged from the shadows, her expression a mix of surprise and apprehension.

“Y/N,” she said, her voice soft.

I froze, my grip tightening on my camera. “Paige? What are you doing here?”

Before she could answer, the gym doors slammed shut behind me, and I turned to see KK waving through the glass window with a wide grin.

“You two need to talk,” KK shouted, her voice muffled by the door. “I’ll let you out in the morning!”

“KK!” I yelled, rushing to the door, but it was locked tight.

Paige let out a small laugh, drawing my attention back to her. “Well, I guess we’re stuck together.”

After a few minutes of awkward silence, I excused myself to the bathroom, needing a moment to collect my thoughts. When I returned, Paige was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the court, my camera in her hands.

“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.

Paige glanced up at me, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I figured I’d record something for you. An apology, I guess.”

Before I could respond, she pressed a button, and the red recording light blinked off—at least, I thought it did.

“Can we talk?” Paige asked, setting the camera aside.

I hesitated before nodding, taking a seat across from her.

“I’m sorry,” she began, her voice sincere. “About your camera, about everything. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“I know,” I said quietly, my fingers fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. “It’s just… hard. That camera meant a lot to me, and now everyone’s laughing about it like it’s some big joke.”

Paige’s expression softened, and she scooted closer, her knee brushing against mine. “I get it. I’d hate being the center of a meme, too. But you’re more than that clip, Y/N. Your work is incredible, and I’ve seen the way you capture the game—like you see things the rest of us miss.”

Her words made my chest tighten, and I looked away, feeling vulnerable under her gaze.

“Thanks,” I murmured, my voice barely audible.

Paige reached out, her hand resting lightly on mine. “I mean it. You’re amazing.”

I glanced up, meeting her eyes, and for a moment, the world seemed

to fade away. Her gaze was steady and warm, filled with an honesty that made my heart stutter.

“Paige…” I started, but my voice faltered.

She gave me a small, lopsided smile, her fingers brushing over mine. “I know I messed up, but I want to make it right. Not just with the camera—but with you. Can we… start over?”

I hesitated, the weight of everything between us making it hard to breathe. But then I saw the earnestness in her expression, the vulnerability she rarely let show.

“Okay,” I said softly, nodding. “We can start over.”

A small laugh escaped her, almost a sigh of relief. “Good. Because I really don’t want you avoiding me anymore.”

“I wasn’t avoiding you,” I lied, though we both knew the truth.

She smirked, leaning back slightly. “Right. You just conveniently disappeared every time I was around?”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at my lips. “Fine, maybe I was avoiding you. But only because I didn’t know how to face you after everything.”

“Well,” Paige said, tilting her head, “now you’re stuck with me until KK decides to let us out. So, no more avoiding.”

I chuckled, the tension between us easing slightly. “Guess I don’t have a choice.”

We spent the next few hours talking—about basketball, photography, school, and everything in between. Paige was easy to talk to, her laugh infectious and her stories captivating. For the first time in weeks, I felt at ease.

At some point, exhaustion caught up to us, and we ended up lying on the court, our heads close together as we stared up at the ceiling.

“Do you ever think about what’s next?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Paige turned her head to look at me, her expression thoughtful. “All the time. The WNBA feels so close, but at the same time, I’m scared of what it means to leave everything here behind.”

I nodded, understanding her fear. “Change is scary. But you’ll do amazing—you always do.”

Her gaze lingered on me, a soft smile playing on her lips. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” I replied, my words steady.

We fell into a comfortable silence, and before I knew it, I drifted off, the warmth of Paige’s presence lulling me to sleep.

The next morning, I woke to the sound of muffled laughter. Blinking against the light, I realized Paige and I were still lying on the court, her arm draped over me in a way that felt impossibly natural.

“What do we have here?” KK’s voice rang out, teasing and triumphant.

I sat up quickly, my face burning as I saw KK and Azzi standing near the gym doors, their grins wide and mischievous.

“Did you two have a good night?” Azzi asked, raising an eyebrow.

Paige groaned, rubbing her eyes as she sat up. “Seriously, KK? Was this really necessary?”

KK shrugged, clearly unbothered. “Hey, you two needed to work things out. Mission accomplished, right?”

I glanced at Paige, my embarrassment fading slightly as she gave me a small, knowing smile.

“Yeah,” she said, her tone light but sincere. “Mission accomplished.”

As we stood to leave, I grabbed my camera from where it had been resting on the sidelines. A sinking feeling hit me when I noticed the recording light still blinking.

“Oh my God,” I muttered, quickly stopping the recording.

Paige looked over, her eyes widening as realization dawned. “Wait… was that on the whole time?”

I nodded, mortified.

KK burst out laughing. “Guess we’re gonna have some very interesting footage to review!”

Paige and I exchanged a look, equal parts embarrassed and amused. Maybe this wasn’t the worst way to start over after all.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

Tag list: @sayurireidotcom , @astroeliza .... (more to be added)

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ff-killjam · 8 months ago

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How The Tables Turned [Ford x reader oneshot]

Summary: This time, its Ford making you stop what you're going to make sure you get sleep.

Rating: SFW and very fluffy

Warnings: Aside from a slightly suggestive part, none!

AO3 version

A/N: Actually based on a period of time where I tried to learn how to use unity (before the whole drama of it happened). I refused to do ANYTHING but to work on my little project no matter how much I was starving for a few weeks straight. lol.

It’s basically routine at this point for you to drag Ford out of his lab to head for bed. Even if you remind him of the benefits on sleeping and how the lack of it will impact his work, you still needed to get him into bed, sometimes having some food ready for him to make sure he didn’t sleep on an empty stomach.

That’s how its USUALLY IS.

Lately, you’ve started your own personal project involving learning a game engine to play around with. It was mostly just a random idea one day, wanting to try your hand at making your own little “video game”. Nothing too fancy, just something fun to put together and to learn some new skills along the way. There was A LOT you needed to look into and learn to make this happen, however.

From learning a coding language, the game engine itself, a mix between finding free to use assets and even making your own when nothing suited your taste- you had a lot on your plate. It wasn’t all that bad really, considering how this whole thing turned into a full blown hyper fixation fairly soon after starting it. It was easy to let the hours fly by as you were split between watching tutorial videos, drawing and fixing any errors/bugs in any of the codes you wrote down. You were aware of when you needed to sleep, eat and do other things for your health, but something about working on this project made you refuse to move from your chair. And you weren’t the only one to noticed this.

After a decent amount of time being with you, Ford has grown used to the routine of you coming to his lab to check up on him. It got to the point where he purposely stayed late in the lab to get you to come in and “pester” him to take care of himself better. The feeling of knowing you cared and loved him so much to go out of your way to make sure he knew that was something he relished in. Of course, he did felt a little “silly” and “immature” doing this instead of straight up telling you, but there was no harm being done anyways, so it was fine.

So when you stopped checking on him after a few nights, he couldn’t help but to worry a bit. At first, he figured you were just a bit busy, possibly even out for the night, so he didn’t think too much of it. However, when walking into your computer room and seeing you up staring at your screen with an open notebook with various random things written on it, he couldn’t help to smile a bit as you reminded him of his university days. You were just working on something, nothing too bad.

But as time passed by, he soon realizes he only ever sees you in your computer room. You barely went out for anything, even for food. Ford didn’t want to jump to any conclusions, but he was worried. Things escalated for him when he barely sees you in bed anymore.

It’s not like he didn’t talk to you as you were deep in your work. He would sometimes check in on you when things felt a little too quite after he started to noticed your absent in his lab. Ford was happy you were able to pursue something new and to take the time and effort to do it. He was aware of the little game you wanted to make for the sake of saying “I made this!”. When he had the free time, he’ll listen to you talk about the things you learned, some of the issues you faced and how you fixed them, etc etc. But he can only take so much before he had to really step in for your own sake.

The sky was dark out, and it was around 1am. You weren’t in bed yet. Again. Ford was really concerned for you now. Walking through the dim hallway, he opens up the door of your computer room. He can see you fully concentrated on your screen, looking over some codes you put together, as if you were trying to find any errors in the lines of text that was presented in front of you. It was obvious how dry your eyes were, how your body longed for rest, but the urge to keep going and to fix this one mistake kept you from wanting to sleep despite how much you felt the need to do so.

It was almost funny to him. A taste of his own medicine some would say. It reminds him of the many nights on how he too would refuse to stop for the night, always needing to do one more thing before he could let himself rest. How you would do your best to persuade him to let himself walk away from his work, to take care of himself to avoid any health complications, and to spend time with you in the comfort of your bed.

It made him feel guilty as well. The things you did for him and how much you loved him to always go out of your way to show it. Ford knew he was taking full advantage of that, and he wanted to repay it back.

You jumped a little in your seat when you felt his familiar six finger hand land on your shoulder, being so focused on the lines of text on your screen that you forgot where you were for a good bit. You look over at Ford as he stood beside your seat, giving him a weak smile.

“Oh hey! Do you need anything?” You asked before quickly looking back at the screen again.

“Love, when was the last time you ate?” Ford asked you in a gentle voice.

“Uh… I had breakfast?” You answered, only remembering you had some toast with a sunny side egg on top when you last ate. It didn’t seem like it mattered too much though.

“Its almost one am” Ford replied, a little stern this time. You quickly check the clock on your taskbar, feeling surprised from how much time had passed.

“Oh… oops” you spoke mostly to yourself, feeling a little silly for not checking the time more often. “I’ll probably head to bed soon”

“Not soon,” Ford points out, “you’re going to bed now.” His words made you look at him again, confusion viable on your face.

“Just let me do this one fix-” Ford says your name, stern voice again, causing you to stop your sentence.

“You are fully aware of the effects of not taking care of yourself” Ford spoke to you with a smirk on his face. You knew that he was referencing the many of times where you brought out the facts of how the lack of sleep and self care can affect your health and day to day life. It was the best way to convince him to come to bed and let you cuddle with him until you were both asleep. “You’re no different form me, sweetheart. Got to practice what they preach, as they say”

“Uh…. I’m built different?” You gave a half shrug and a low chuckle at your own joke. Obviously, this did nothing to change his mind. You knew he was right, and had nothing to say to argue back. Ford knew this too. “Fine… let me quickly save and shut off my computer…”

Ford watches you quickly save any progress before shutting off your computer, the light of the screen turning off and making the room dark as it was the only thing on. As you start to stand, your body fully conveyed how tired you really were. You were about to walk to the hallway door before Ford lets out a ‘let me’, and you were now being picked up bridle style in his arms. You let out a small gasp, often forgetting how much muscle the older man has as he often hides it away in his iconic turtleneck. The comfort of him holding you made the realization at your own exhaustion hit hard. You can feel yourself somewhat go limp as Ford carried you to your shared room.

Ford felt you quickly relax in his arms, feeling prideful as he carried you to your bed. Sitting you on the side and pulling the blanket back. He lays you on your pillow before fallowing suit into his usual spot on the bed beside you. Your eyes were shut as you let yourself sink into the soft mattress, the weight of the blanket being pulled over you giving a sense of security, along with how his arms wrapped around you to pull you close to his chest. You let out a sigh of relief as you feel him nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, getting a few shivers down your spine.

“Sorry…” You mumbled to him, feeling guilty now for making him go out of his way to get you to bed. You feel him chuckle into your skin, the smile forming on his face being easily felt on your skin.

“Nothing to be sorry about sweetheart,” his replied, voice audibly sounding more tired, “I should be the one to apologize, making you go through this almost every night. I see how doing this almost all the time can be a bit frustrating for you.”

“Not if its you,” You were quickly to reply, “I’m always happy to make sure you’re okay”. Ford felt his heart flutter at your words. You always did surprised him with how much you loved him despite how many times you pointed it out.

“The feeling is mutual,” Ford placed a kiss on your skin as he caressed one of his thumbs that rested on you, “lets get to sleep now, I’ll be sure to do something for you in the morning” Ford gave another kiss on your skin, and you can’t help but to feel excited for what he had planned.

Silence followed as you two let yourselves slowly fall asleep in each others comfort. Feeling his steady heartbeat on your back lulled you to your sleep.

Ford smiled when he realized you fell asleep before he did. It was no surprise, you needed it really bad. Without fail every night when he has you in his arms like this, he feels like the luckiest man in the multiverse. He didn’t deserve you, but it was almost as if this is the repayment he deserved after many years of suffering, a way of life saying sorry to him.

And he wouldn’t ask for anything else.

#Gravity Falls x reader #Ford pines x reader #stanford x reader #reader insert #fanfiction #one shot #fluff #Killjam's fic tag

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kozachenko · 23 days ago

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And now for Zanmu, who I am having issues with stylizing her face in my current style because I am a perfectionist and have very high expectations for when I draw my favourite characters lmao.

Artist's notes;

Continuing from my New Year Keiki piece, I once again took a crack at simplifying shapes with this piece by focusing a lot on silhouettes. I really, really, really love how the shapes of this piece turned out. I didn't do any proper rendering with this and there are a few details I omitted from Zanmu's design for the sake of clarity (and also, my sanity), but overall I love how this turned out. I had so much fun with using her shirt's sleeves to create a blocky silhouette, and I am so happy with how I did her hair. This is around the time where I realized that I don't need to render every single strand of hair, and I am so happy I realized that because it has helped me in my art process so much. I also really like the colour palette for this, it was kinda inspired by the Zorn colour palette for this, and I wanted to use solid black for some of the shading since I liked the contrast it provided. I also experimented with giving her tanner skin and once again it helped in unifying the colour palette a lot. While I do wish I could make Zanmu look a little older with her face, I do like how simplified I made it. I also gave her a white undershirt, mainly from a "how does this outfit make sense" perspective because I can be a bit of a stickler for that sometimes lol.

Now to just talk about Zanmu a little more because she has officially supplanted Keiki as my favourite Touhou character and I love thinking about her. So first of all, every time I come back to Touhou 19's story and dialogue and I read any scenario with Zanmu in it, I just appreciate her more and more.

Like, take this piece of dialogue from if Zanmu wins in Saki's scenario.

This has the same vibes as a villain in a shounen anime saying to the protagonist, "get up" and then taunting them while they're injured from their fight on the ground. Zanmu is what would happen if you shoved a shounen villain into Touhou project, she goes into monologue's about how she's basically won before literally every fight against her in everyone else's scenario.

Also, I can't get over this moment from Mamizou's scenario.

This makes me want a short Touhou story where Mamizou convinces Zanmu to come with her to the outside world to show her modern things and Zanmu just...has no fucking clue what's going on. Keep in mind, Zanmu has been staying in Hell for thousands of years at this point, and aside from Hecatia raiding three Hot Topics at once every now and then, Zanmu has no idea what the modern world even looks like.

What I'm trying to say is, I wanna see Mamizou give Zanmu a bag of doritos, they should go on a road trip around modern Japan together.

Also, I'm calling it now, if we ever get a new fighting game with both Zanmu and Yukari in it, people are gonna make memes and shitposts about Yukari showing Zanmu a train for the first time....by throwing one at her....

#touhou project #art #fanart #touhou fanart #zanmu nippaku #touhou 19

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minyoongisnewthing · 10 days ago

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Han river lullaby chapter five | myg

Chapter one, Chapter two, chapter three, chapter four chapter six

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, exs to lovers, eventual smut, idol!au, co parents, second chance romance.

Chapter warnings: Sassy uncle Jin should carry his own warning honestly, other then that I don’t believe there are any. If I’m wrong please let me know and I will happily add them.

Word count: 4.8k approximately.

Authors notes: I hope everyone had a great Easter, and I am still so amazed and thankful for the love my story has gotten every comment, like and reblog has meant the world to me, but finally we are here, half way through this story already! I hope you all enjoy this chapter.

That Thursday you found yourself standing in Han's preschool hallway, surrounded by tiny art projects and bright construction paper decorations. Parent-Teacher interviews always made you nervous, but this time felt different—because this time, Yoongi was coming too.

You spotted him before he saw you, making his way down the colorful hallway. Even in casual clothes—a simple black sweater and jeans bucket hat pulled low—he looked slightly out of place among the finger paintings and alphabet charts. But the moment Han spotted him, none of that mattered.

"Appa!" Han broke free from your grip, racing toward him. "You came!"

Yoongi's whole face softened as he caught Han, lifting him easily. "Of course I did, I Wouldn't miss it."

Your heart squeezed at the sight—at how natural they looked together, at how Yoongi's eyes crinkled with genuine joy as Han babbled about his artwork on the walls.

"Mr. Min?" Han's teacher, Ms. Park, appeared in the doorway, her eyes widening slightly in recognition before she schooled her features into professional warmth. "And Ms. Y/L/N. Please, come in."

Inside the classroom, Han proudly showed Yoongi the cubby where he kept his school bag, his favorite reading corner, and the plant he was helping to grow. You watched as Yoongi absorbed every detail, asking questions and responding with appropriate enthusiasm to each new discovery.

"And this!" Han dragged Yoongi to the wall of family pictures Han and his pre-school class had drawn. It was an array of stick figures and bright crayon chaos. "This is my drawing of us!"

Your breath caught as you looked at the crayon masterpiece—three stick figures, one tall with black hair (clearly Yoongi), one medium with your hair color, and one small figure between them, holding both their hands, all with big smiles on their faces.

Yoongi went very still beside you, his eyes fixed on the drawing.

"That's beautiful, Han," Ms. Park said gently, sensing the weight of the moment. "Why don't you show your parents what you've been up too in the reading corner?"

As Han tugged you both toward his favorite books, you caught Yoongi discreetly wiping at his eyes

“damn, the little Picasso got me”

“Softy” you teased nudging his shoulder playfully

The parent-teacher conference itself was surprisingly smooth. You and Yoongi sat side by side, your knees occasionally brushing as Ms. Park went through Han's progress.

"Han's doing wonderfully," she assured you both. "His social skills are excellent, he's very creative, he loves to draw as you saw, and his reading level is actually a tiny bit above average for his age." She smiled warmly. "Though he does have quite the stubborn streak when he sets his mind to something, and sometimes has trouble relaxing at nap time."

You and Yoongi exchanged knowing looks.

"Wonder where he gets that from," you muttered under your breath.

Yoongi scoffed quietly. "Oh, like you're not just as bad, the kid didn’t stand a chance."

The familiar banter felt... nice. Natural. Like maybe you could really do this, that the ease so far hadn’t been a fluke, you could be parents together, support each other, create something stable for Han.

After the conference, as Han showed Yoongi every single book he'd read in the past month, Ms. Park pulled you aside.

"I just wanted to say," she began carefully, "that Han seems... happier lately. More settled. Having both of you here, involved..." She smiled. "It makes a difference."

You swallowed past the sudden lump in your throat. "Thank you. We're... we're trying."

Looking back at Yoongi and Han, you found them deep in conversation now, about a particularly elaborate block tower Han had insisted on building. Yoongi was crouched at Han's level, listening intently as his son explained his architectural vision, complete with dramatic hand gestures.

"Eomma!" Han called out. "Come see what Appa and I built!"

As you joined them on the floor, watching Han direct Yoongi on proper block placement with all the authority of a tiny construction foreman, you couldn't help but smile.

This was what mattered. These moments, these small victories, this careful dance of building something new while honoring what was.

One block at a time

Later that afternoon, the school reported that Han had taken the best nap he’d had in weeks. And if you and Yoongi shared a smile when picking him up for a park playdate, well, that was just good parenting in your book.

Bright and early the following Saturday morning saw you bleary-eyed, barely caffeinated, and desperately second-guessing your life choices as you pulled into the parking lot of the children’s boutique Yoongi had told you about. According to him, Seokjin insisted it was the place for anyone serious about decking out a kid’s room just like his nephew deserved—and Seokjin had many opinions, especially when it came to his self proclaimed and honorary role as favourite Uncle.

The store was all soft lighting and whimsical displays—tiny clothes that cost more than your entire outfit and themed nursery setups that looked plucked from Pinterest fever dreams. You were still shaking off the fog of sleep when Han, warm little fingers gripping your hand tightly, suddenly lit up with recognition.

“Uncle Jin!!!” he squealed, his voice echoing across the store like a cannon blast. Before you could blink, he let go of your hand and bolted across the polished tile floor, launching himself straight into Seokjin’s waiting arms.

Yoongi’s steps faltered beside Jin. He watched the scene unfold with an expression that could only be described as mild betrayal. You had to bite back a laugh.

“Wow,” Yoongi muttered under his breath, a smile tugging at his lips despite himself. “The little traitor, et tu Han.”

A soft chuckle slipped from you. “Drama queen we just can’t compete with the magnetism of Worldwide Handsome up there, I’m afraid.”

Ahead of you, Jin lifted Han easily onto his hip like he did it every day, beaming with pride as the little boy chattered away animatedly. Jin caught your eye and gave you and Yoongi a wink over Han’s shoulder before disappearing further into the store with your son, already pointing at some space themed bedding display.

Yoongi sighed, falling back into step beside you as you wandered down the nearest aisle filled with cloud-shaped nightlights and hand-stitched throw pillows.

“I’ll remember this next time he begs for Dino nuggets, and insists I’m the only one that makes them right.” Yoongi said, mock bitterness in his tone.

You nudged him playfully. “You’ll still cave. You always do.”

He didn’t argue, just smiled in that soft, private way he sometimes did when he thought you weren’t looking.

A few aisles later, you and Yoongi found yourselves crouched in front of a display of bed linens, deep in a heated debate that had somehow become more intense than necessary. His sweater sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, a sure sign he was taking this decision far too seriously.

“I’m just saying,” you argued, picking up a plain navy-blue comforter set, “he’s three. He changes his mind more than he changes his socks. Plain is safer.”

Yoongi held up a comforter set covered in astronauts wearing different coloured space suits. “Okay, but this? This is epic. Look at this little guy! He’s riding a comet!”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re such a pushover for him.”

He grinned, unabashed. “Not denying it.”

You were just opening your mouth to tease him further when a sudden burst of animated voices reached your ears. One of them was unmistakably Han—high-pitched, passionate, and growing louder by the second. The other, deeper and equally dramatic, was Seokjin.

Yoongi stood up, peeking over the display. “What the—?”

You followed quickly, and the sight before you nearly had you doubling over with laughter.

In the middle of the store stood Han and Seokjin, fully locked in what could only be described as a theatrical, borderline operatic debate in the middle of the glow-in-the-dark sticker section. Hands were flying, eyebrows were raised, and both parties looked like they were seconds away from presenting PowerPoint slides to back their claims.

“I told you, Uncle Jin, the star ones are cooler!” Han insisted, clutching a packet of star and planet stickers to his chest like they were a rare treasure.

“But dinosaurs, Han, you like dinosaurs.” Seokjin countered, holding up his own pick with flourish. “They roar. These stickers will make your room prehistoric chic.”

Han crossed his arms, glaring up at him with the fiery resolve of a kid who’d watched too many courtroom dramas. “But uncle Jin, space is cooler. Dinosaurs are for babies!.”

Yoongi choked on a laugh beside you.

“Told you his mind changes more than his underwear, but should… should we break that up?” you asked, eyes wide as Han stomped his foot for emphasis.

“No, no,” Yoongi said, biting back a laugh as his eyes crinkled with delight. “I wanna see how this plays out.”

The argument escalated into a flurry of sass, dramatic sighs. Seokjin whipped his hair for emphasis. Han mimicked him with a flick of his whole head. You could’ve sworn you saw a store employee peeking around the corner to spectate.

It ended, of course, with Han triumphant, the galaxy and star stickers clutched in one victorious hand while Seokjin sulked dramatically beside him. But in true Jin fashion, he still tossed the dinosaur stickers into the basket on the way to the register.

All because he was apparently physically incapable of leaving a store without buying just one more thing, Han decided to push his luck by picking up a moon shaped night light, and with nerves of steel turned the biggest puppy dog eyes you’d seen him give up to seokjin, who ruffled his hair and called him a ‘little rascal’ while putting that night light in the cart too.

As you and Yoongi approached, Han was already bragging.

“I told you space was better, Uncle Jin’s just a sore loser isn’t he Appa.”

Seokjin gasped like he’d been mortally wounded. “You wound me, child!”

Yoongi snorted, scooping Han up as he beamed in victory.

“You absolute little hustler,” Yoongi muttered, shaking his head with a grin. “We’re all doomed.”

You couldn’t disagree

Back in Yoongi’s apartment, the three of you had barely stepped inside Han’s room before he clapped his hands in joy and launched into full explanation of his vision.

“Okay! Appa, you do the moon. Eomma, you do the stars. Uncle Jin, you can help me open the stickers,” Han said, already climbing onto his little stool to sit like he was presenting blueprints for a spaceship.

You couldn’t help but laugh, exchanging a glance with Yoongi as you started remaking Han’s bed. The new navy-blue comforter set contrasted perfectly with the pale walls, giving the room a cozy, dreamy vibe that made it feel more like home.

Once the bed was made, Han handed Yoongi a large, glow-in-the-dark moon sticker with a sense of ceremony.

“This one right above my pillow, please,” he said with the utmost seriousness, like its placement determined the success of the entire galaxy.

“Right here,” Yoongi murmured, already stepping up onto the bed to reach the spot Han pointed to.

You turned, just in time to catch Yoongi mid-stretch.

His black crew neck had ridden up slightly, exposing a sliver of toned skin and the subtle dip of his waist. His jeans—worn in and soft—fit him like they were tailored, perfectly hugging his frame like sin as he reached for the wall.

You froze, your mouth suddenly dry.

God. Really? Your brain chose now to betray you like this?

You tried to look away, tried to focus on something—anything—else, but your eyes wandered on instinct, tracing the lines of his back, the definition in his forearms, the way his shoulder blades moved beneath the fabric.

The way those damn jeans made it impossible to not look.

Your jaw clenched as you quickly shook your head, trying to banish the thoughts before they spiraled any further. Focus, focus. Stickers. Your child. Room decorating.

But when your gaze drifted sideways, you immediately regretted it.

Seokjin was already watching you, leaned casually against the doorway with his arms crossed and a slow, cat-like grin spreading across his face.

You’d been caught. And Seokjin, of all people, was the last person you wanted clocking you checking out Yoongi’s ass.

Your eyes narrowed, fixing him with what you hoped was your best Don’t you dare stare.

Seokjin raised one teasing eyebrow.

“Not. A. Word.” you mouthed, but it only made him smirk wider.

Thankfully, Han was far too busy trying to peel a sticker off its backing to notice the silent exchange happening above his head.

Yoongi stepped down from the bed with a satisfied hum, brushing his hands off. “Moon, secure and glowing.”

“Perfect!” Han beamed, giving a proud nod. “Now stars everywhere!”

“Everywhere?” Yoongi asked with mock dread.

Han nodded solemnly. “They go all over, Appa. Even the closet.”

Yoongi chuckled, already peeling another sticker. “Guess we’re building a universe huh.”

You smiled as you watched them, heart twisting in that painfully sweet way it always did when Yoongi and Han were like this—effortless. Familiar. Like no time had passed at all.

And then, from behind you, Seokjin muttered low enough for only you to hear, “Staring’s free, you know. But touching will cost extra.”

You elbowed him hard in the ribs.

He only laughed harder.

You stood back and took it all in — the glowing constellations scattered unevenly across the ceiling, the oversized moon sticker positioned perfectly above Han’s pillow, the navy comforter smoothed neatly over the bed now crowned with a dozen mismatched plush toys. It was chaos, yes, but it was Han’s chaos. Bright and expressive and entirely his.

Your chest swelled with quiet pride — not just for the room, but for you and Yoongi. Somehow, between awkward co-parenting schedules, you’d managed to give Han this little piece of magic. A space that felt like home in both places.

You started gathering your things, folding Han’s jacket over your arm as he lit up his new moon night light and busied himself assigning names to every single sticker on the wall. You were just reaching for your bag when Yoongi touched your elbow lightly, pulling you aside, his voice dropping low so Han wouldn’t overhear.

“Y/N,” he started, and already his tone was heavy with guilt, “I know I was meant to have him from Thursday through to Monday, but—” he paused, exhaling through his nose. “There’s an event in Japan. It’s important. I really tried to get out of it, but…”

He didn’t need to finish. You saw it in the way his eyes flickered with regret, the way his fingers tapped absently against the palm of his hand.

You shook your head quickly, brushing off the concern before it could settle between you. “Yoon, it’s okay. I don’t want or expect you to halt your career, or any obligations you have.,” you said sincerely. “I’ll talk to the hospital about the crèche schedule or book a sitter during my shift. We’ll make it work — it’s fine, really.”

But Yoongi didn’t look reassured. He looked like a man caught between two worlds — one where his dreams lived under spotlights, and another where they giggled while naming glow-in-the-dark stars. His jaw tensed like he had more to say, like he wanted to argue or apologize more deeply, but all he managed was a quiet, “You sure?”

You nodded with a soft smile. “Positive. He’ll be okay, Yoongi. You’re doing fantastic, we're doing fantastic with him.”

That seemed to break something loose in him — the tension in his shoulders dropped slightly as he looked past you, watching Han hold court almost with his stickers, babbling animatedly about a galaxy he’d created on the wall to his toys.

“He really does love it here,” Yoongi said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You followed his gaze and smiled. “No Yoongi, he loves you. This place is just a bonus to him, a place he sees you.”

Yoongi glanced back at you, eyes softening with a gratitude he didn’t quite know how to voice. And you weren’t sure he needed to.

You’d both managed to placate Han about the change in plans, sweetening the disappointment with the promise that Appa would come to your house for dinner next weekend. It had thrilled him enough to bounce right past his sadness. And now, as you moved through your small apartment tidying the last few things and adjusting the lighting in the dining nook, you realized something: it felt right having Yoongi here again. Not just dropping Han off or picking him up at the door—but here. Inside your home. Moving through your shared space. Not as two exes cautiously orbiting around past wounds, but as parents who were trying.

It had been too long since he’d existed in this world of yours. The lived-in clutter of Han’s books and toys, the candle flickering softly near the TV, the music humming gently in the background. You wanted him to see it—how you and Han lived. To feel the warmth of this home you’d built. Not perfect, but full of love.

The banchan were already laid out: crisp kimchi that snapped lightly with each bite, seasoned bean sprouts glistening with sesame oil, and fluffy white rice steaming in its bowl. The rich, garlicky scent of marinated pork drifted from the oven, its sweet-salty glaze of soy sauce caramelizing to a glossy sheen. The entire apartment felt wrapped in comfort.

A sudden knock, sharp and eager, rattled the door. It was all the warning Han needed. He tore through the room, feet pattering wildly across the wood floors, his voice a shrill squeal of joy.

“APPA!” he shouted, practically vibrating as he skidded to a stop.

Your heart skipped—whether from Han’s excitement or your own nervous flutter, you couldn’t tell. Calm down, you told yourself, smoothing your hands down your sweater. This wasn’t a date. It was dinner.

Still, when you opened the door and saw him—really saw him—you felt like someone had knocked the wind out of your lungs.

Yoongi stood there dressed simply but devastatingly well: a crisp white button-down that skimmed the sharp lines of his shoulders, sleeves casually rolled to his forearms. Dark jeans hugged his legs just right, worn at the knees in a way that made him look effortlessly cool. His black hair was slightly styled, pushed back from his forehead, a few pieces falling rebelliously into his eyes. And those eyes—deep, dark, and warm—met yours with a quiet familiarity that pulled something taut inside you.

“Hey,” he said softly, voice like a slow glide of velvet.

You cleared your throat, trying to hide how your pulse leapt. “Hey. Come in.”

As he stepped past you, his cologne curled around your senses—clean, woodsy, and subtle. Something that smelled like skin warmed by sun and just a hint of spice. Your breath caught for half a second as the scent lingered between you.

Han grabbed Yoongi’s hand before the door had even closed.

“Appa, Appa! Come play in my room! I wanna show you my new cars, the green one zoomed so fast, you won’t believe it!”

Yoongi chuckled, a deep, warm sound from his chest. He ruffled Han’s hair with one hand, his other still clutching the boy’s fingers.

“Of course, buddy. But we’ve got to listen to Eomma—when she calls us for dinner, we come, okay?”

Han nodded with cartoonish enthusiasm. “Okay, let’s go!” And just like that, he tugged Yoongi down the hallway, already rambling about engines and race tracks.

You shook your head with a fond smile, watching them disappear. The soft sound of Yoongi’s low laughter trailed down the hall as you turned back to the table, laying out utensils with slightly trembling hands.

When you finally called them to the table, Han came barreling out, and Yoongi followed at a more leisurely pace, that same amused smile tugging at his lips. He moved with a kind of grounded calm—shoulders relaxed, movements fluid, always slightly slower than the world around him.

You gestured to the seat across from you, and he sat, carefully, like someone easing into unfamiliar territory. His long fingers rested loosely on the table’s edge, thumb brushing against the grain.

“I hope you still like dwaeji bulgogi,” you said, placing a generous helping of the glistening pork on his plate.

Yoongi’s lips twitched into a smile, eyes crinkling slightly. “You know I do.”

You offered a smile of your own, then handed him the rice bowl. “I figured I’d cook something you taught me how to make.”

That made him pause. His dark eyes flicked up, catching yours for a long second. Something unreadable—nostalgia, maybe, or something heavier—glinted there. But he didn’t speak it aloud. Instead, he reached for the bean sprouts, and his hand brushed yours. Just a graze. A whisper of skin. But it set your nerves buzzing like struck wires.

Your eyes met. And for the briefest second, the air between you tightened, a quiet electricity humming in the space that hadn’t existed here in years.

“Eomma makes the best food, right, Appa?” Han said suddenly, his cheeks puffed out with rice.

Yoongi broke the stare first, chuckling softly. “She really does.”

You swallowed, the air still thick around you.

Dinner went on like that. The food, the laughter, Han’s endless chatter. But beneath it all, those touches kept happening. Small. Fleeting. The brush of his fingers passing you the kimchi. The nudge of his knee under the table. The way he watched you when he thought you weren’t looking.

By the time dinner ended, you were flushed, your heart refusing to calm.

As you cleared the table, Yoongi leaned back in his chair, arms crossed loosely, watching you with that quiet attentiveness he always had. His voice, when he spoke, was warm, unassuming.

“Want me to help you clean up?”

You shook your head, waving him off. “No, you’re a guest. Don’t worry about it.”

He let out a dramatic yaa, rising to his feet, and made his way toward you, leaning against the counter like it was second nature.

“Ouch. A guest? Is that all I am?” He raised an eyebrow, his tone teasing, but the smile tugging at his lips was boyish, charming.

You paused, mortified, glancing at him with wide eyes. “You know that’s not what I meant, you jerk.”

His laugh was low, honeyed and rich, and without thinking, your hand dipped into the sink, scooping up a handful of soapy bubbles. In a flash, you flicked them at him, white foam landing squarely on his perfect white shirt.

Yoongi’s eyes widened. He stared down at the soap on his chest, then looked at you like you’d just declared war.

“Oh, you are so in for it,” he said, mock-serious, already dipping his fingers into the sink.

“Yoongi, don’t—!”

Too late. He flicked water in your direction, smirking as you tried to dodge. Bubbles flew, giggles spilled from both of you like you were kids again, caught in the sheer joy of play.

At some point, you lunged forward, towel in hand, intending to retaliate. But instead, you collided with him—your bodies pressing close. His hands landed at your waist to steady you, warm and strong through the fabric of your shirt. Your fingers curled instinctively around his wrist.

You froze. And so did he.

You were chest-to-chest, breaths mingling, hearts pounding. The warmth of his skin seeped through the layers between you, the scent of his cologne so close now it was dizzying. Yoongi’s eyes searched yours, the humor draining into something quieter, something heavier. His gaze dropped briefly to your lips, then returned to your eyes.

For a heartbeat, neither of you moved.

“Eomma! Appa! Are you okay?”

Han’s voice was a lightning bolt, jolting you both back to your senses.

You stepped back quickly, cheeks flushed, brushing stray bubbles from your arm. Yoongi’s hands slipped away, and he cleared his throat, trying to look unbothered, though that mischievous smile still tugged at his lips.

“Yeah, we’re okay Han,” he called out, loud enough for Han to hear, “Eomma just decided to splash me with dishwater for no reason at all!”

You scoffed, glaring at him. “No reason? You started it!”

“Slander,” he said, grinning.

Han appeared a moment later, clutching his stuffed bunny and looking very serious. “You have to say sorry, Eomma.”

You sighed. “Okay, okay. Sorry, Appa.”

“Can we have dessert now?” Han asked, voice hopeful.

Yoongi chuckled, ruffling his hair. “I think that’s fair.”

You turned back toward the kitchen, and as you reached for the dishes, Yoongi’s voice dropped low behind you.

“Nice apology… Eomma.”

You turned just enough to see that familiar spark in his eyes—and with no hesitation, flicked another bubble at him.

“Oops.”

Yoongi’s narrowed gaze told you this wasn’t over.

Dessert was simple but sweet—dairy-free ice cream with strawberries for Han, while you and Yoongi had regular ice cream topped with fresh fruit. Han happily dug into his bowl, swinging his legs under the table as he hummed in delight at the treat.

After cleaning up, the three of you settled into the living room, Han immediately climbing into Yoongi’s lap as you put on a Disney movie. The room was warm, filled with the soft glow of the TV and the rhythmic sound of Han’s little breaths as he started to relax against Yoongi.

Halfway through the movie, Han’s sleepy voice broke the comfortable silence.

“Appa, can you stay the night?”

Yoongi’s body stiffened just slightly. You felt it before you saw it—the way his fingers tensed against Han’s back, the way his jaw tightened just a fraction before he schooled his features into something softer.

He smoothed a hand over Han’s hair, choosing his words carefully. “Han, son… not this time, okay? Appa has an early morning tomorrow, a really big day.”

Han blinked up at him, sleepy but sharp, studying Yoongi’s face as if trying to decide whether or not to believe him. You held your breath, unsure how he’d react.

Finally, after a long pause, Han let out a tiny, resigned sigh and burrowed further into Yoongi’s chest. “Okay,” he mumbled, eyes already fluttering shut.

Yoongi let out a breath of relief, his hand still rubbing slow, soothing circles over Han’s back. He glanced at you briefly, something unreadable in his gaze.

You offered him a small smile, knowing this was something that would take time—Han’s little heart was so eager, so full of love, but this wasn’t a wound that could be healed overnight, but was healing slowly.

Han’s little snores filled the quiet space, soft and steady, a reminder of how completely at peace he was in his sleep. You watched his tiny chest rise and fall, his hand clutching his well-loved bunny, and you felt the familiar warmth of love and protectiveness bloom in your chest.

Gently, you reached out and tapped Yoongi’s shoulder to get his attention. He turned to you, and you nodded toward Han before gesturing for him to follow. Together, the two of you carefully maneuvered Han into his room, mindful not to wake him as you laid him down and tucked the blankets around him.

Standing in the doorway, both of you lingered, watching the way Han snuggled deeper into his blankets, his bunny still firmly held against his cheek. The sight made you smile, but there was also something bittersweet about it.

“I’m sorry about that, Yoon,” you murmured, breaking the silence.

Yoongi shook his head, his voice soft but certain. “It’s okay. I really do have an early day tomorrow. You know… he snores like you.”

Your lips quirked up at the corner, amused. “Yeah? About the only thing he got from me, though.”

Yoongi hummed, his gaze lingering on Han before flickering back to you. “I don’t know… he has your eye color.”

You turned to meet his gaze and found something in his expression that you couldn’t quite place—soft, searching, something close to nostalgia. It made your breath catch for just a moment.

Instead of answering, you simply smiled, letting the moment settle between you. Then, with quiet steps, you walked Yoongi to the door, the air between you charged but gentle.

“Good night, Yoon,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “Drive safe home”

Yoongi hesitated, his fingers brushing yours for just a fleeting second before he pulled away. “Good night, y/n”

taglist: @busanbby-jjk @jajabro @kam9404 @yoongiiuu93 @julseka07 @tea4sykes @marihoneywk @maryhopemei @sanarin @misschelliejeon @boraluv @wobblewobble822 @amarawayne @hyuninslutbbgirl @Granataepfelchen @mar-lo-pap @enfppuff @senaqsstuff @vainkiss @rinkud @lanyia

#Min Yoongi x reader #Min Yoongi x you #Min Yoongi x y/n #Suga x reader #Suga x you #Suga x y/n #Bts fanfic #Bts fanfiction #Han river lullaby #Min Yoongi angst #Min Yoongi fanfic #Min Yoongi fanfiction #Yoongi #Min Yoongi #bts fanfction

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into-fiction · 25 days ago

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gelphie snippets

i have this annoying habit of procrastinating writing my gelphie fics by writing....other gelphie shit. so. here's a bunch of random tiny snippets from the various works i have in my drafts. enjoy.

///

“I’m Elphaba. Elphaba Thropp,” the green girl says, thrusting her hand out in front of her.

Elphaba Thropp’s familiar is a tiny little monkey with feathery blue wings, and Galinda has never seen something so beautiful and strange and endlessly intriguing before.

That goes for the monkey as well, of course.

///

Lady Glinda’s chin lifts, her brown eyes glinting with stubbornness as the corner of her mouth quirks up. Elphaba resists the urge to punch that smirk right off her glossy pink lips. How dare she stand there and act as though she had any authority? Any right to be making declarations or threats or orders? On Elphaba’s ship?!

“Now you’re just asking to be shoved overboard,” Elphaba growls. Her fingers tighten their hold on the hilt of her sword, the creak of her leather gloves briefly drawing Glinda’s attention.

“Toss me overboard all you want,” Glinda says. “But just know: my offer dies with me.”

“Are you that eager to die?” Elphaba asks. She steps forward, crowding into the shorter woman’s space and glaring down at her.

Glinda’s smirk widens into a true grin. “Quite the opposite, Captain Thropp,” she snarks, rolling up on her toes to get right in Elphaba’s face. “I’ve never felt more alive.”

///

Elphaba would like to say this isn’t her fault. She really really would. Sadly, it appears that such a claim would be, at best, a bald-faced lie.

Morrible had told her not to mess with any of the time spells, that time magic was tricky and unwieldy and widely regarded by most sorcerers as taboo. Using a spell to try and reverse time just so she had more hours in her day to complete a school project was…probably not her best idea.

But! In Elphaba’s defense- she never could’ve expected her roommate to walk in right as she was attempting to cast it, throwing off her focus and concentration. Her last thought before the magic had poured out of her was of Galinda, and sadly, this was the consequence.

‘This’ being, of course, the five-year-old, curly-headed blonde currently staring back at her.

///

One of the worst things about gaining wings wasn’t even the wings, per se, but everything else that came with the spell. At first, Galinda is so overwhelmed and in so much pain that she doesn’t truly notice the changes. She doesn’t understand until Morrible pieces it all together.

Elphaba hadn’t just been thinking about flight or wings, she’d been thinking about birds. And ‘bird’ is precisely what Galinda now seemed to be. Or at least- frighteningly close to one.

///

Galinda’s memories of being sick as a little girl are…less than pleasant. Her parents had a zero tolerance policy for a whiny, sickly child, and Galinda had grown up assuming that falling ill was a personal failure of hers, another way of disappointing her already impossible parents.

Often, Galinda would get sick following one of her mother’s favorite punishments- making her bathe in freezing cold water and letting her drip dry while she stood in the corner, shivering and ‘thinking about what she did wrong.’

If Galinda woke the next morning with sniffles and a fever, her mother would tell her she deserved it- that it was just an extension of her punishment, a sort of natural karma for being disobedient.

It was silly, looking back, but she had been so gullible as a child. Even now, she stifles a cough into the crook of her elbow despite knowing, logically, that Elphaba won’t hate her for being sick, that she won’t abandon her all day to sit miserable and alone in their dorm.

But…the worry persists, a niggling little seed of doubt.

///

Eventually, the door creaks open again, the guards shifting to check who is entering before standing aside. A man enters, followed by the young maid and a boy around the same age. The man has a case in one hand, long and skinny.

“Well,” he says, piercing eyes roving down Galinda’s bare body. “She’s certainly a pretty one.”

The edge to his voice, the creepy tilt of his smirk, makes Galinda’s skin crawl. One of the guards mumbles something in agreement, a chuckle passing between all the men in the room. Galinda can’t muster the strength to glare anymore, too tired and too scared. Instead, she keeps her gaze on the floor, intent to ignore them, to not let them see that their comments are getting to her.

///

At age eleven, Galinda--who had long since realized that there were certain rules one had to follow in order to be right, be good, be normal--sat in the third row of her school’s classroom, two seats back from a boy named Klaus.

Galinda’s friends all assured her that Klaus was the cutest boy in school. “And he totally likes you!”

“Likes me?” Galinda had questioned. She’d frowned, glancing over to where Klaus was eating lunch with his own friends. “He’s never asked to be my friend.”

Nikki, one of the girls in Galinda’s class, rolled her eyes and groaned. Nikki had three older sisters, and she was a bit of a know-it-all. “Not like that, Galinda. He likes likes you. He thinks you’re cute!”

“Oh.”

Nikki had poked her in the arm, giggling lightly. “Well, doesn’t that make you happy?” she’d asked.

And Galinda had nodded, had giggled right along with her friend, even if she wasn’t sure why it was such a laughing matter. “Of course,” she’d said, because Galinda was eleven, and by now she had learned that sometimes, you just had to play along.

///

Glinda wakes slowly, feeling exhausted and hungover. She keeps her eyes shut, knowing the glare of the emerald walls will hurt her salt-sore eyes. She’s cried herself to sleep enough times to know the drill by now.

There’s a blanket overtop of her and a soft surface cradling her body, and Glinda presses her nose down into her pillow and-

Pauses. Frowns. And slowly opens her eyes.

The sight of the small hut’s interior sends a rush of memories through her, so fast and so strong it knocks the breath from her lungs momentarily. Elphaba, she thinks helplessly. She scrambles to her feet, tripping over her blanket and nearly tumbling to the floor, and whips her head around for a glance of anything green.

Nothing. Glinda is alone.

#gelphie #wicked #pirate au #familiars #de-aging #wings au #sick fic #royalty au #post canon #drabbles #wicked fanfiction #galinda upland #elphaba thropp

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penguinmerchant · 4 months ago

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"Pet" Binding (with a twist)

This binding is a little different than what I've done so far! This is "Pet" by C.S.Pacat, but with notes from @lucky-clover-gazette. The notes on this read along were SO funny and I knew I wanted to feature them in a bound work, but they wouldn't really make sense without the context of the original work. And so I mushed both the original work and the notes together!

So the idea here was to make it look like a composition notebook, complete with stickers on the front and (as we'll soon see...) drawings and scrawled notes on the inside. "Sam Reads CaPri" is the tag that Lucky Clover uses for her read along notes, and so I used it here just to make it clear this wasn't just the canon work. I used black and silver marbled paper to complete the look of the composition notebook, and more direct-to-film transfers for the "stickers" on the cover. I think it turned out fantastically!

More pics and a LOT of notes under the cut.

So I thought this was a really interesting project because I wanted to use the original work but add to it. I...acquired a PDF of Pet (let me have this one, I bought 2 official english copies of the short stories AND a Polish one I can't even read!) and messed with the margins a bit to make more room for Lucky Clover's notes. Here's what it looks like inside.

This whole thing was done in Libre Office, by the way. I'm sure there's a better program out there that would have done this WAY easier but I didn't want to have to learn how to use Adobe (or pay for it, honestly). But so the little notes are added with textboxes and placed next to their respective quotes, and the quotes themselves are highlighted with highlighters used for bibles, which is apparently a whole subset of office supplies I never knew about! I needed those highlighters specifically because I wanted to have archival color (no idea if regular highlighters are, these are just the only things that came up from a quick search) AND they're really good because they are made not to bleed through really thin bible paper. So on regular paper you can barely see them through the other side at all. They're great! Thanks bible highlighters, I know you thought you would be used for more holy purposes but really there's no better writer than Pacat, so you're in good hands!

So the other problem was that some of the notes were too long to shove into the margins, even after I had made them bigger than normal. That meant post-it notes! Now these aren't actual post-it notes, obviously (I can't imagine how terrible it would be to line those up in the printer) but I used colored printer paper and cut them to size, and it worked out. I used a bit of glue to get them down, and made it so that all of them fold away from the text so that everything is still readable. And then I made some of them poke out the top and sides, because I liked the way it looked.

There are little doodles throughout, some of which I colored in with a highlighter, and I the first word in each section is in a scribbly font, which I thought was funny. All of the notes are likewise in a handwritten font (Amanda Rose) and slightly rotated so that they're not in line with the text.

I also did not trim any of the sides of this textblock, so it's kind of uneven (deckled edges are common on the long side of the textblock, not so much on the top and bottom) but I kind of needed all the space. No endbands in this one either, I wanted to keep it more notebooky and the uneven pages meant it would have been impossible to do anyway. Everything else was bound normally, so aside from the two thousand years it took me to typeset this it was a pretty easy bind.

Oh, and last but not least, the endpapers:

Plain brown butcher paper, in honor of Berenger.

#capri #my binding #imp press #fic binding #fanbinding #ancel #berenger #I feel like this is a true transformative work #this was SO MUCH FUN to do #there were so many problems I had to figure out how to solve #and I think it looks great #it makes me laugh every time I see it

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l1v1ngd3dgrrl · 6 months ago

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Returning the Favor [DaisukexReader]

an: This is a continuation of Talkin' in your sleep. Takes place a week after that. Minimal plot (if any) this time, Daisuke might be a little ooc this time, feeling a bit feral today. Not beta read at all

Word count: 1077

mdni divider by cafekitsune

CW(S): oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, spit as lube(kind of), kind of a quickie?

You really don't know how you got yourself into this situation. It all started innocently enough, You had to take something to Daisuke in the utility room. You couldn't even remember what it was. Some where in between the delivery and Daisuke showing off the most recent thing Swansea was making him do with the circuit board led you to this moment.

Next thing you knew Daisuke was peppering kisses along your neck. Thankfully Swansea was on his lunchbreak so you didn't have to worry about him coming back for at least 30 minutes or so. It was just the two of you in the room alone.

“I don’t mind this but just like last time we gotta be quiet.” You remind him between giggles. “I don’t want anyone catching us.”

He hums and presses more kisses to your neck, “I dunno why you’re telling me when you’re the one who really has to focus on being quiet.”

You scoff “whats that supposed to mean?”

Daisuke sucks harshly at your neck and draws a gasp from you.

“I mean I’m returning the favor from last time. You took care of me so it’s my turn to pay up.”

The change in his demeanor has your stomach doing flips. This side of him is one you wanna see more often.

He clears off the desk, setting aside his project and taps the top motioning you to sit down.

Once you're seated on the desk he resumes his kisses, rubbing his hands down your sides. You slide your hands across his chest and tangle one in his hair giving it a slight tug. He sucks your neck in a few spots, pink splotches slowly blossoming in his wake.

He pulls away and caresses your face in his palms. "You don't mind if I like, go down on you right?"

"I'd be a little sad if you didn't." you grin.

He snorts and presses a couple chaste kisses to your lips before making work of the buttons on your jumpsuit. You help him shimmy it down enough to where it's pooling at your ankles.

He takes a moment to take in your semi-clothed frame with a grin, sliding his hands up your thighs. He pays extra attention to your inner thighs closer to your core. His fingers ghost the edge of your underwear. The cold metal of his rings sending pleasant chills up your spine.

You watch him expectantly, body practically vibrating with anticipation. He hooks his fingers in the waistband of them and pulls them down sinking to his knees as he does so. You hold your breath and spread your legs more to give him access.

With minimal hesitation he moves forward, warm breath fanning over your center. He licks a stripe up your pussy, testing the water to see your reaction.

You release the breath you were holding and let out a soft moan. That's his go ahead, he makes quick work and maneuvers his tongue skillfully

Daisuke's eyes meet yours, chocolate brown eyes gazing up at you lovingly. You bite your lip as he continues and snake a hand into his hair.

Your knowledge of Daisuke's sexual past was unknown, but with how well he was doing he must have had at least a girlfriend or two. That or he had a pretty interesting search history.

Quiet gasps and words of encouragement fall from your lips, which seems to spur him on further. His face is no doubt a mess with a mixture of your slick and his saliva.

After a particularly harsh suck on your clit you let out a moan louder than you meant to and tug on his hair. He pulls back and stands up. "I hate to stop there but I really really wanna be inside you right now." he admits.

In wordless agreement you began to pull up your shirt exposing your midriff. He fumbles with his belt buckle, hands shaking with excitement. Once there are no restrictions in the way he pulls down his boxers enough to let his erection free.

"Let me know if it's t'much." he whispers after planting a kiss on your forehead. His cock lines up and slowly pushes in. The mixture of his saliva and your slick serve as a makeshift lube, not ideal but it'll do.

He gives you time to adjust, inching in slowly. Once he's fully bottomed out he stills. His eyes close and his brows knit together, breath coming out in small huffs. As per usual he looks picture perfect.

You're in a similar state he is, your arms drape themselves across his shoulders. The stretch wasn't terrible but it was something you had to adjust to.

"Ok-ok You can move now." You say.

He nods and begins to thrust at a slow but steady pace.

Both of you are huffing quietly, gazing at each other as if you two were the only things to exist. He presses kisses to your lips and he begins to pick up the pace, the desk starting to creak quietly.

"Oh god you feel so good." he murmurs. You move one of your hands to your mouth, moaning quietly into the palm of your hand.

You try and meet his thrusts the best you can. Daisuke's hands plant themselves firmly on the desk as he speeds up. Creaks and moans from the both of you fill the room.

"I'm almost there." you whine.

Daisuke laughs which fades into a whine of his own. His thrusts get harsher causing you to grasp tightly onto his shirt.

With a few more harsh thrusts of his you squeal as you hit your climax, eyes tightening shut.

Daisuke soon follows, pulling out and finishing with his hand. He comes with a choked groan and a couple of spurts of cum land on your exposed stomach.

Both of you sit in silence, panting to catch your breath. He reaches behind you and grabs a few paper towels. "How do you feel?" he asks as he begins to clean the two of you up.

"Amazing!" you say cheerfully.

After you're all cleaned up you both get dressed, trying to make yourselves look as inconspicuous as possible. Swansea would be back any minute now.

"You should probably head back, I don't want either of us to get in trouble."

"Yeah-I'll see you later!"

You made your way out of the utility room with wobbly legs feeling content.

Bless that ray of sunshine.

#18+ mdni #daisuke mouthwashing x reader smut #mouthwashing smut #daisuke mouthwashing

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