#I ever have before. So I don’t feel too bad

[lynnieverse]

like real people do // drew starkey

oneshot

drew stakery x popstar!reader

synopsis: after a little slip up in an interview where you accidentally reveal your celebrity crush, things get a little complicated when someone starts meddling.

4.2k words

You knew doing the interview was going to bite you in the ass. Nothing good ever came from distracting you with puppies and asking personal questions. So, when the interviewer innocently asked your celebrity crush, you didn’t hesitate to say Drew Starkey. It didn’t hit you until afterward, sitting in the back of your car, debriefing with your assistant. 

“I can’t believe you said your celebrity crush though,” she said, eyebrows raised. Your heart stutters a bit and you quickly whip your head towards her. 

“No I didn’t.” 

“Um…yeah, you did.” Panic spiked through your veins, sweat beading on your brow. 

“Oh shit. Oh shit! Amara, tell me I didn’t say who I’m thinking of,” you grip her arm tightly, eyes pleading. Amara winces and looks at you with what could only be pity. “No!” 

Madelyn was going to kill you. 

You met Madelyn Cline a few months ago at the People’s Choice Awards when you were presenting. You’d instantly clicked and made plans to hang out the next week. Everything was going really great, and you were doing a good job at keeping your little crush a secret. Now, it’ll come out, be circulated everywhere online, and Madelyn’s going to think you’re some crazy stalker. How would she react to you having a crush on her co-star? Definitely not well. 

Amara places a comforting hand on your shoulder, smiling sympathetically. “It’s okay, Y/N, it’s just a silly interview. Nobody will take it seriously.” 

“Everyone will take it seriously! I don’t know why I started fraternizing with actors, I need to stick to my lane.” 

“Hey, why don’t you write a song about it? It might help.” You thought about it for a moment, feeling the familiar bubble of lyrics tickling the back of your mind. Writing always helps you calm down, maybe putting the feelings on paper would make them go away. 

As the car stopped in front of your hotel, flashes from the paparazzi’s cameras were bright even through the tinted windows. You sigh and grab a jacket, wrapping it around your head like a shield, and wait for security to open the door. You ignore the loud shouting as you dash inside, closely followed by Amara and the rest of the crew. Inside isn’t much better, but at least the other guests have the decency to leave you alone for now. 

You sometimes feel bad, often making it up later by signing a bunch of autographs outside, but right now you’re exhausted and embarrassed. The interview threw off your whole day, and you just want to lay in bed and watch trashy reality television. 

Your security escorts you to the elevator, and then does a sweep of your room before eventually leaving. Finally alone, you put on your rattiest and comfiest pajamas, take off all your makeup, and throw your hair up before jumping in bed. You reach for the remote to start your aforementioned binge, but hesitate over the little purple notebook you carry everywhere. Sighing, you know you won’t be able to relax without getting it all out. You dig through your bag and find a glittery pink pen, uncapping it with your teeth and getting to work. 

You’ve never met Drew, not once, but something about him just had you giggling like a schoolgirl. Witnessing his kindness through your constant internet stalking quickly proved to be a bad idea, because now you have a big fat crush on the man and he doesn’t even know you exist. 

Well that’s not true. Everyone knows you exist, but he would never think of you that way. Dating as a popular musician was not as easy as one might think, it’s often too much for people. The words start flowing with ease, filling up the cream pages in no time. 

Gleaming

Twinkling

Eyes like sinking ships

On waters so inviting

I almost jump in

His eyes really are beautiful. So blue, so warm. But the feelings you have aren’t logical, and they’re so exhausting. 

But I don't like a gold rush, gold rush

I don't like anticipating my face in a red flush

I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch

Everybody wants you

Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you

He’s the internet's boyfriend right now, edits flying around like crazy. You know dozens of people back home who are definitely salivating over this man. Something about him…you can’t put your finger on it. 

What must it be like

To grow up that beautiful?

With your hair falling into place like dominos

Every silly thought you’d ever had poured out onto the page. By the time you were finished you knew it was a hit. Grabbing your guitar you make a split second decision to tease your fans a bit. Unlocking your phone, you quickly open Instagram and go live before you can stop yourself. Your face pops up on the screen, thousands of people already in and commenting. 

“Hey guys! I just finished a new song and wanted to play a little for you if that’s alright?” You smirk, knowing the answer already. Of course, everyone starts freaking out and flooding the comments with different affirmations and emojis. You laugh, loving every second of it, before strumming the beginning chords on your guitar. 

As you start singing you let your eyes close, feeling each note in your soul, pressing every callus on your worn fingertips. The pacing is a little rough, still getting the hang of the new melody, but you know as soon as you finish that you killed it. So many fans are expressing their love for the song, already asking for it to be out on streaming platforms. Others are curious as to who your muse is, throwing out the wildest guesses you’d ever seen. 

“Chace Crawford?!” you exclaim, face contorted in surprise. “Y’all have a distorted sense of my ability to pull these men,” you laugh in disbelief. Your heart skips a beat when a couple comments actually guess correctly, but don’t react, knowing every single microexpression is analyzed. 

“Alright guys, I think I’m going to eat myself into a sugar coma while watching Love Island, but thank you for listening! I’m glad you enjoyed the song,” you wink to the camera before waving and closing the app. Covering your face with your hands, you fall backwards on the bed, letting your guitar rest beside you. You don’t even want to check social media, already knowing screen recordings of the live will be everywhere. 

Sometimes it’s crazy to think this many people care about your day to day life. The art you create touches lives across the globe. It’s both amazing and terrifying at the same time. 

Not wanting to start an existential crisis on a random Tuesday night, you quickly turn on your show and cuddle up under the duvet. 

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

By the weekend the interview was everywhere. You’ve stayed out of it, going pretty much radio silent in response. Many are asking if you’re secretly dating, if you were going to write a song for the new season of Outer Banks, if Drew felt the same way…it’s insane. 

You’d purposely put off talking to Madelyn out of sheer embarrassment. That man was like her brother and you admitted to liking him. Still, it’s time to address the issue head on, so you dial her number shakily. The phone rings three times before she answers, a sweet greeting sounding through the speakers. 

“Y/N?” You clear your throat, reluctant to speak. 

“Hey…” You wince at how rough your voice sounds, facepalming at your own awkwardness. 

“What’s up, girl?” Madelyn sounds normal, but you know she has to be weirded out by you. 

“Um, nothing much, just wanted to talk to you about something I may have said recently.” 

“Is this about the puppy interview?” 

“Yes?” Your voice comes out squeaky, nose scrunched. But Madelyn just starts laughing. You stare at your phone in confusion. What the hell?

“I can’t believe you finally admitted it, and during an interview? That was ballsy as hell!” You slowly start to regain your breath, brain processing her words. 

“You’re not mad?” 

“Why would I be mad?” she snorts.

“I didn’t want you to think I was using you to get to him.”

“Are you?” 

“No! Of course not!” 

“Okay then, there’s no problem.” A breath of relief escapes, and you put a hand on your chest. She’s not mad. 

“Thank you so much for understanding, I really love our friendship.” 

“Me too,” Mads says sincerely. “Now we just have to figure out how to get you two together!” 

Your eyes widen. “What? Absolutely not. This was not an invitation for you to play matchmaker, Mads.”

“Aw man, why not? I could literally get you both in the same room tonight.” Your heart starts beating out of your chest, feeling more anxiety talking about this than being on any stage.

“He’s probably seen the interview by now, it’s so embarrassing!” 

“It’s not embarrassing, Y/N. You’re attracted to the man, it’s not that crazy of a concept! Just give me a chance, please?” 

“Nope. I don’t want to bother him or weird him out. Let’s just do something me and you; are you in L.A.?” 

“Ugh, fine. Yes I’m here, just come over whenever.” You can feel her annoyance across the line, but ignore it. You’re not going to let her meddle. 

“See you then!” Mads ends the call, sending you back into your shame spiral. Every little thing you do is always picked apart and ridiculed in the media, and you’re usually a lot more careful with what you say. The interview slip up is going to keep you up at night for the rest of your life. 

Hours pass waiting for the appropriate time to head over to Madelyn’s house. You decide to dress comfortably, but have your makeup done on the off chance pictures are taken. The drive over is quiet, save for the initial crowd outside your house. How it’s legal for celebrities' addresses to be available on the internet, is something you’ll never understand. 

When you pull up you notice a Jeep in her driveway and shake your head. That girl is always spending money. Your phone pings with yet another Twitter update and you roll your eyes. How can this be the most popular thing in the world right now? You glance at the notification and see it’s Drew’s name that’s trending. Huh. Interesting. 

You decide to follow your instincts and ignore it, wanting to focus on girls night with Mads. As you approach the porch you find yourself nervous; even though she wasn’t mad, you still feel bad for causing such an uproar around her co-star. 

Three knocks later you're waiting outside her front door in anticipation. You find yourself shifting from foot to foot, tracing the cracks in the stonework with your eyes. When the door opens you look up with a smile, expecting Madelyn’s smiling face, only to be met with the very man that had haunted you the past week. You gasp, words catching in your throat as you stare. 

Drew was wearing a black T-shirt and grey sweatpants, his hair looked freshly cut into a soft mullet, and he looked just as surprised as you do. You can’t seem to close your gaping mouth, a pained sound escaping without realizing. 

“Uh, hi,” Drew says sheepishly, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. Eyes wide, you turn on your heel and speed walk away, leaving him alone in the doorway. You’re fumbling with your keys, cursing under your breath, when you hear a shout from behind you. 

“Y/N!” 

You almost make it inside your car when an iron grip latches onto your upper arm, yanking you back. 

“Hey!” you protest, almost losing your balance as you’re dragged back to Mads’ house. 

“Oh no you don’t, you’re not getting away that easily.” 

“Madelyn Renee Cline, let me go!” You struggle against her grip, but only cause her nails to dig in deeper. 

“You’re not leaving, Y/N, I won’t let you.” She finally stops when you’re once again at the door, but she doesn’t let go. Drew must’ve gone back inside, thank God, but Madelyn is glaring at you. 

“Don’t look at me like that! How could you do this to me?” You give her your most withering look. She rolls her eyes at you, only pissing you off more. 

“Just talk to him. I promise he doesn’t think you’re weird, or whatever you’ve concocted.”

“Well he might now!” 

“That’s your own fault, I can’t believe you ran away,” she snickers, pulling you inside and closing the door. When she finally lets go of your arm, you rub the crescent indentions with a wince. The girl has some nails. 

“Fine. Let’s go.” Mads looks taken aback, freezing in place. 

“Really?!” You give her a pointed look. “Right, be cool. Okay come on follow me, he went back to the living room.” Reluctantly, you do just that, trailing closely behind her. You’re a ball of nerves, and can already feel your stomach twisting to knots. 

Madelyn was right, he was lounging on the couch, absentmindedly scrolling on his phone. When he hears you two approach, his head shoots up and his back immediately straightens.

“Everything okay?” he asks, voice smooth and melodic. Your cheeks warm, and you avoid eye contact as much as possible. 

“Um, yeah. I just–you know.” You jab your thumb back awkwardly, not even you know what you’re trying to say. But Drew cracks a smile, looking at you fondly and nodding along, as if you make perfect sense. 

Madelyn’s eyes flit between you with a wide smile on her face. Not knowing what else to do, you sit down on the couch, as far away from him as possible, and stare straight ahead. Silence ensues, and you have absolutely no idea what to do in this situation. Thankfully, Madelyn breaks the silence. 

“So…want to watch a movie?” 

“Yes!” You and Drew speak at the same time, causing you to stare at each other shyly. Madelyn smirks and comes around the couch, forcefully sitting between you and the arm rest. You shoot her a what the fuck look and she simply shrugs. 

“I like the armrest! Scooch.” Begrudgingly, you inch closer to Drew, who pretends not to notice the entire exchange. As soon as you're settled you sit pin straight, not wanting to breach the confines of your cushion. Drew’s left ankle is resting comfortably on his knee, arm thrown over the side of the couch in what seems to be a very relaxing position. Mads rolls her eyes and pulls out an ottoman, giving you something to stretch your feet out on so you can lean back. 

It takes forever to pick a movie, suspiciously so, but it’s Madelyn’s house and you’re not going to say anything. Once she finally picks Avatar, she dims the lights from her phone and the three of you settle in for what’s going to be a weird couple hours. 

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

Everything was going fine, until suddenly Madelyn got tired at nine and decided to go to bed…leaving you and Drew alone. You mentally cursed your friend for putting you in this position, obviously not listening to the blanket “no matchmaking” statement from before. 

You glance at him from the corner of your eye and find him already looking at you. He quickly looked away and started tapping his fingers on his knee nervously. The movie had long since been forgotten and no words had been exchanged. 

“So…” you manage, turning to face him slowly. He smiles at you, running a hand through his hair and making his bicep flex. Your stomach does a little flip flop and your face reddens at where your mind went. Drew smirks like he knows exactly what just happened, but doesn’t comment. 

“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.” His voice, oh my God. “I’m Drew, it’s nice to meet you.” He holds out his hand to shake, and you clumsily take it, feeling the warmth envelop your palm immediately. 

“I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you too,” you smile, swallowing the anxiety. 

“I’m a fan of your work, actually, you’re really good.” 

Your eyes almost bulge out of your head. “You listen to my songs?” Drew laughs and shakes his head, shooting you a look you don’t quite understand. 

“Are you being serious?” he leans forward a bit, surprise evident on his face. You scrunch your eyebrows, tilting your head to the side. 

“What do you mean?” 

“You’re easily the most popular musician of our generation and you don’t think I listen to your music?” You find yourself blushing, and a little flustered. 

“Well, I wouldn’t say the most popular…I have quite a few fans, sure, but not everyone vibes with all types of music. I don’t really know what you listen to, and I didn't want to assume anything.” Drew looks you up and down, seeming to size you up. 

“You’re not at all what I expected, Y/N Y/L/N.” 

“And what did you expect, Drew Starkey?” 

“Well, I don’t know to be honest, but you’re surprisingly humble for someone as successful as you.” You had actually gotten that a lot, although you didn’t think it was being humble so much as being a decent person. You’re still just the girl who grew up in a perfectly normal town, with normal loving parents and a wonderful home. Just because you make popular music doesn’t mean you’ve changed at all. Plus, you know it could all go away with the snap of your fingers. 

“I don’t know what to say, I’m just like everyone else,” you shrug. 

“I beg to differ. You’re…extraordinary. You have to know that?” There goes that damn stomach flip again. 

“Thank you,” you look down at your lap. “I could say the same for you. I love your projects.” His eyes light up at the mention of his work, making you smile in turn. 

“Thank you! I love everything I’ve been a part of, especially OBX. I met my second family on that set, you know?” You didn’t know, actually. Being on the road all the time meant limited options for friendships, and no time for the ones you did manage to keep. Mads is the first girlfriend other than Amara–who you employ–you’ve had in years. 

“Yeah, I love Mads already. I can’t imagine how fun it must be getting to work with your best friends every day…” your voice trails off. Drew seems to notice your shift in mood and decides to change the subject. 

“Hey, why don’t you play me something?” 

You immediately freeze. “What?” Drew smiles and stands up, searching for something. He disappears in the hallway before emerging a minute later with a beautiful acoustic guitar in his hands. You immediately feel a pull to grab it and start playing, but are still confused. 

“Here,” he hands it to you. “I want you to play me something…something nobody has heard yet.” You immediately start racking your brain and decide to take a leap and play something that could get you in trouble. 

“Um…okay. This is something I was actually working on today. It’s not finished but I can play a little.” You nervously pick up the guitar, but immediately relax when you feel the rough strings beneath your fingers. You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and try to forget the gorgeous man in front of you. 

In the middle of the night, when I'm in this dream

It's like a million little stars spelling out your name

You gotta come on, come on

Say that we'll be together

Come on, come on

Little taste of heaven

You manage to take a peek at him while you strum, catching him totally entranced by the sound of your voice. A little confidence boost flows through you as you continue the song. 

But you're untouchable, burning brighter than the sun

And now that you're close I feel like coming undone

In the middle of the night, we can form this dream

I wanna feel you by my side, standing next to me

You gotta come on, come on

Say that we'll be together

Come on, come on

Little taste of heaven

You strum a few more chords before stopping, silently waiting for his reaction. He’s staring at you, mouth parted slightly. 

“Another,” he whispers. Surprised, you do what he asks, pulling another unfinished song from the vault in your mind. This one wasn’t about him, not like the last one, but it still applies. 

I will not ask you where you came from

I will not ask you, neither should you

Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips

We should just kiss like real people do

You hum for a little longer, this song actually being one of your favorites. Drew is starstruck, an unknown look on his face the whole time. He seems to snap out of it and clears his throat. 

“Wow, Y/N. You’re amazing…those were amazing. Were they about anyone in particular?” You internally panic, because duh. But you don’t want to weird him out. 

“Um, the first one was,” you whisper, avoiding eye contact. You feel the couch move, and look up to find Drew right beside you. His leg was flush with yours, and he was so close you could see each and every freckle splashed across his cheeks. You also notice his eyes crinkle at the corners slightly when he smiles. 

“Can I confess something?” he says softly. You don’t trust your voice, so you nod once. “I saw your interview.” Immediately, the embarrassment causes your face to turn into a tomato. 

“Uh–about that…I–” You don’t really have an explanation, but you scramble for one anyway. Drew chuckles and grabs your hand, effectively stopping your rambling and making you redder at the same time. 

“Y/N you don’t have to be embarrassed. Did you see my interview?” What interview?

“No? I didn’t know you did one. Should I have?” He squeezes your hand gently and his eyes bore into yours. 

“It would’ve made this a lot easier,” he jokes. “They asked for my response to being your celebrity crush.” Fuck. 

“Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause drama for you.” 

“You didn’t, I promise. But do you know what my response was?” You shake your head. He hesitates for a moment before grinning, almost shy. “I said that’s a crazy coincidence because you’re my celebrity crush.” Hold the fucking phone, did he just say what you think he said?

“What?” 

“I think you’re beautiful, talented, kind, and I’ve always wanted to spend time with you. I didn’t think it was even in my realm of possibilities. Then you befriended Mads, and I thought maybe I had a chance…” Your brain must be short circuiting, because no way in hell Drew Starkey just said the feelings are mutual.

“Oh,” is all you can manage.

“Oh? That’s it?” he smiles, intertwining your fingers. 

“I’m honestly so surprised right now, I don’t know what to say.” 

“Say you don’t think I’m a weirdo.”

“I don’t think you’re a weirdo,” you shake your head. 

“Say you’ll go out with me?” his pitch rises with uncertainty, looking nervous for your response. 

“I will definitely go out with you.” Relief floods his features and he tugs you closer, pulling your legs on top of his. 

“That was terrifying,” he says, massaging your calf. 

“I still cannot believe this is happening right now,” you tell him honestly. 

He smirks, leaning in close. “Believe it, baby.” Your heart skips a beat, mind going blank momentarily. 

“I think I owe Mads a thank you,” you giggle. 

“Fuck that, I’m sending her a damn gift basket.” 

“You’re so right, she’s getting an album dedication from me,” you joke, causing Drew to poke you in the ribs. 

“Hey, no fair. She’s going to like that so much more!” he whines. You can already see yourself falling head over heels in love with this man, and that scares you more than anything. 

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game,” you hold your hands up in defense while Drew rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, let’s just watch another movie.” 

“Sounds like a plan!” you hear from behind the couch. The two of you immediately jump, scared out of your minds, until you realize it’s just Madelyn creeping in the hallway. 

“What the fuck?!” Drew yells, clutching his heart dramatically. 

“You were supposed to be asleep!” You cross your arms, glaring at your blonde counterpart. She sucks her teeth and shrugs, walking over and plopping down on the couch.

“What can I say, somebody had to get you two together.” You share a look with Drew, both of you simultaneously not surprised, but exasperated by her little games. 

“You’re insane,” Drew tells her, taking his spot back on the couch and throwing a pillow at her head.

“It worked didn’t it?” 

Yeah. You thought. It really did. 

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

why praising someone’s fic while at the same time tearing down other writers’ fics may not be the positive comment you think it is

first of all, I feel like I should be bringing this up because I’ve gotten comments where people praise my works (which I appreciate) while in those same comments they later say what they dislike about other writers’ fanfics, in a rather harsh manner, and while I know my commenters probably don’t have any ill intentions towards me, and while they never actually name the writers whose works they don’t like, I still don’t agree with and I certainly don’t condone the way they trash talk other writers’ fanfics either. so I think I should just bring this up, not to attack or target anyone specifically, but to hopefully make general readers see why comments like these are… not actually helpful to anybody.

before we begin, I also like to humbly point out that comments I’m talking about aren’t “oh it’s so hard to find a fic this good” or “your work is better than most of the fics I’ve read” because personally I think comments like these are harmless, not because I think my fic is “that good”, not because I think my work is “better than others”, but because no other writers were insulted and if my readers say they prefer my work — it’s all personal preference — then I’m honored, and the last thing I wanna be is a Comment Police, but I’ve unfortunately seen a lot of comments, especially lately, where other writers were rudely insulted in the name of praising the writer whose work is being commented on. I’m not gonna provide screenshots because I’m not gonna put a target on anybody’s back, but here’s to give an example of what I’m talking about,

“I like your work so much. It’s so hard to find a fic this good when most of the (insert character’s name) fics I’ve read are so bad and so out of character. I hate when some writers write (insert character’s name) as some sort of (x) and (insert another character’s name) as some (x), I think it’s so out of characters and so cringe that it physically makes me want to throw my laptop away. It feels like reading a garbage written by a bunch of five year-old kids or something. I wish I could set those trash on fire. Your work is not like those shitty fics though and it’s amazing to finally see a good fic.”

this is the kind of comments I’m talking about. because for me, personally, I don’t actually feel good receiving a comment like this, even though the commenter praises me and never actually mentions other writers, whose works they dislike, by names.

and again, the last thing I ever wanna be is a Comment Police, because I usually appreciate every comment I got, no matter if it’s just a heart emoji or a simple sentence like “I liked this”, I love and appreciate them all. but here we go;

WHY INSULTING OTHER WRITERS IN THE NAME OF PRAISING A WRITER WHOSE WORK YOU COMMENT ON IS NOT A POSITIVE COMMENT

comment like this can put a harmful pressure on the writer whom you praised and make them think that they now have to be extra careful to make sure their work is “good enough to please you”, otherwise they might get torn to shreds too. and instead of writing for themself for fun, which should be the most important thing about writing fanfics, they now feel like they have to write because they have to be good enough to earn their readers’ approval. and that just sucks out all the joy of doing something that was supposed to be a hobby, something writers do out of love and passion and not because they were pressured into doing, not because they were pressured into “being good enough and staying good enough”.

“if you’re this comfortable insulting other writers under my work, how can I know you’re not insulting me and my work under someone else’s comments section?” is a valid thought the writer you praised may have, even if they were too polite to tell you that.

“I hate when some writers write (insert character’s name) as some sort of (x) and (insert another character’s name) as some (x), I think it’s so out of characters and so cringe that it physically makes me want to throw my phone away.” how do you know the writer you praised hasn’t already written something like this in their drafts? how do you know they don’t plan on writing something that you deem “cringe and out of character”? it may not be your intention, but your comment certainly can be read as a subtle “hey, don’t you dare write something like this because I don’t like it!!!! I better not see it from you!!!” I shouldn’t have to tell you how entitled this is.

“this is so out of character” if a writer wants to write their favorite character like this, they can. why? because they write whatever they want and they write for themself, not for you.

fanfiction is not — and never will be — your average novel you see while visiting a bookstore, buy it with your money and bitch about it when it turns out the book is not to your liking. because fanfiction is free. fanfic writers write for themselves and for fun. fanfic writers write whatever they wanna write, because they themselves are their own primary audiences. not you. they’re only kind enough to share with you their works. for free. if you dislike a fic, keep that to yourself and move on to something you do like. don’t be entitled by insulting something you got for free, something that wasn’t even made for you at all.

you obviously can dislike a fic. of course, it’s your opinion. I mean I won’t say I like every fic I’ve ever read, but the thing about disliking a fic is that you can just exit said fic, forget about it and move on to something else without feeling the need to insult the work or the writer, be it directly or indirectly, because, again, fanfiction is not a movie you watch on Netflix or a book you bought with your money. fanfiction is an art, a hobby and a passion created by an artist for the artist themself.

a reminder that comments are public for everyone to see, not just the writer you praise. so while you didn’t mention any other writers whom you insulted by names, there’s always a chance of innocent writers finding your comment and thinking the part where you insult other writers’ works is about their works. and that can very negatively affect them too.

fanfiction doesn’t have to be “good enough for you, random reader”. fanfiction just has to bring the writers joy. and that’s what make a fic good enough.

if you really enjoy someone’s work, tell them that you enjoy their work, tell them what you like about their work. don’t turn their comments section into your own space where you can vent and trash talk other writers, because you are bringing that negativity to the writer whose work you said you enjoyed. and I can only speak for myself but, as a writer, I don’t enjoy seeing my comments section turn into a negative and unkind space where my fellow writers are being insulted.

[rosiecosy]

love me, love me not˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

(seungcheol x reader) — fluff

you don’t even know why you’re crying. one second, you were just lying on the couch, scrolling through your phone, and the next, there were tears welling up in your eyes.

it’s ridiculous, really. nothing even happened. you were just thinking about how bloated you feel, how your jeans fit a little tighter than usual, how you look weird from certain angles. and then your brain spiraled—what if seungcheol thinks you’re not attractive anymore? what if he’s just being nice? what if you don’t even love him anymore and that’s why you’re suddenly so insecure?

you sniffle, curling further into yourself. your stomach hurts, your back aches, and everything just feels too much.

"baby?"

his voice is soft, laced with concern, and the moment you see him standing there, fresh out of the shower with his hair still damp, you let out a choked sob.

seungcheol is in front of you in seconds. he kneels down, hands cupping your face, thumbs wiping away your tears like it physically pains him to see you like this.

"hey, hey, what’s wrong?" he asks, voice so gentle it makes your chest ache.

you shake your head. "i don’t know."

he frowns but doesn’t push. instead, he shifts, climbing onto the couch so he can pull you into his arms. you let yourself be manhandled until you’re resting against his chest, his arms securely wrapped around you.

"bad cramps?" he murmurs.

you nod.

"anything else?"

you hesitate before mumbling, "i feel fat."

he pulls back immediately, making you look at him. his expression is serious, eyebrows furrowed like he can’t believe you just said that.

"excuse me?" he says, voice slightly offended.

you sniffle. "i do. i feel bloated and gross, and my face looks weird, and my thighs—"

"no. nope. we’re not doing this." he shakes his head, tilting your chin up so you have no choice but to meet his eyes. "you are not fat. you’re not gross. you are literally the most beautiful person in the world, and i won’t let you talk about yourself like that."

you pout. "but—"

"no buts," he interrupts. "if i hear one more negative thing about you from your own mouth, i swear i’m gonna start crying too."

you let out a weak laugh, burying your face in his chest. his warmth, his scent, the steady rise and fall of his breathing—it’s comforting, grounding.

"you still love me, right?" you whisper.

he stiffens. "what?"

you swallow. "i don’t know, i just... i feel so emotional and weird, and my brain is being stupid, and i started thinking—what if i don’t actually love you? what if you don’t actually love me?"

seungcheol lets out a breath, pulling you even closer, like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers.

"baby," he says, his voice softer than ever. "you love me. and i love you. that’s not even a question. your brain is just playing tricks on you because you’re exhausted and in pain, but i promise, nothing is changing that."

you sniffle again, clutching at his hoodie.

"you love me," he repeats, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "you love me, and i love you, and you’re perfect, and we’re gonna get through this, okay?"

"okay," you whisper, feeling a little lighter.

he stays like that, holding you, rubbing gentle circles on your back, pressing soft kisses to your forehead. and when he finally gets up to bring you a heating pad and your favorite snacks, you realize—maybe you don’t have to believe in yourself right now. maybe, just for today, you can borrow seungcheol’s belief in you instead.

[mscherub]

Cuddles!

I know plenty of ppl have probs done this, but Azul’s Bday card is out so I’m going feral, he’s adorbs, so ima do some short ass headcanons for cuddling with the guys cause I’m bored, and it’s something to post for my lovely followers <3

Tags!: Cuddling, comfort, fluff

Warnings!:

My sense of humor

These are just headcanons

Heartslabyul; Savanaclaw; Octavinelle; Scarabia; (you’re here :3), Pomefiore; Ignihyde; Diasomnia

Riddle 👑:

Give him enough reassurance and he’ll do it

You two would kinda be in bed awkwardly while awake, just kinda…laying there, but the next morning he’d be tangled up in your arms without a care in the world

So…he likes it?

Clings to you, you’re holding him 95% of the time

Trey ♣️:

He doesn’t mind, he’s used to it, honestly

Probably cuddled up with younger siblings to help them sleep

Cuddles are warm and he prefers to hold you in his arms instead of the other way around, just how he likes things to be between the two of you, so don’t take any offense.

His face will be buried against the top of your head so

Cater ♦️:

He’s all for it, like, super stoked

Arms wrapped around you, head resting against yours, and…his phone behind you as he scrolls on magicam

If you want him to turn the phone off be extra nice, then he’ll consider it

He likes to put his hands under your shirt and put them against your back, skin to skin contact makes him feel fuzzy in a good way

He lives for cuddles, so provide them

Ace ❤️:

He’s likes it, but if you think anyone couldn’t be bad at cuddling, then meet Ace

He’d bug you to cuddle which is cute and all, but then when yall do, he has his arms wrapped around you but then he’ll eventually kick you away, complaining about it being “too hot” in his half sleep state

Oh, but now it’s too cold, so he goes back

You two kinda just end up laying close to each other

He steals blankets, beware

Deuce ♠️:

Awkward, stiff, just how I think he’d be

He’s like that causes he’s almost a little scared to disappoint you, for who knows what reasons, but whatever

You’d have to cuddle him first to get him to hold you back, it’s just a sign to him that it’s ok to even touch you

If he falls asleep before you, his grip won’t actually loosen, it will get a bit tighter around you

Leona 🦁:

I think we all know this one, anyways, yea, so he’s on top of you

He’d honestly like cuddling either way, you holding him or him holding you, but he prefers just laying on you

His head on your chest and his face buried in your neck, one leg thrown over yours and his arms wrapped around you, he likes this a lot better

He can sleep through anything, and he’s as still as a rock so good luck moving

Ruggie 💰:

He likes it but he also doesn’t, it’s kinda foreign

With where he grew up being alert was kinda the norm, but with cuddling he finds himself slipping! Tell him to take a chill pill

He’s all over you, though, too, clinging and keeping a firm grip around you

He likes to be held, actually, it’s nice

If he wakes up in the middle of the night to go get food, ignore him

Jack 🐺:

Also not used to it, but he secretly loves it, keeps it more hidden, though

He’s also kinda stiff…

He likes to hold you, just feels right, and his tail will betray his facial features as it almost bangs against the bed. Just ignore it

Speaking of tail, it’s fluffy, so if you ever get extra cold during the night, he could maybe just lay it over the lower half of you. Very useful!

Azul 🐙:

I fear I’m gonna say stiff to like half the characters, so, he’s stiff

He kinda prefers you to lay against him, it just feels a little better that way, and a little less embarrassing for him

During the night, just like an octopus would, subconsciously wraps his arms around you

When you wake up, the roles will be reversed with how yall went to bed

Jade 🫧:

For one, he gets overheated easily, so either that damn room is cold asf while he sleeps, or he sleeps with his covers off, or some other weird shit

I mean, it’s you, though, so he’ll endure the heat, but it’d still be very limited as to what yall even do

He finds you wanting to cuddle him funny, just is. It’s off what humans do when they sleep, but he gets the appeal

Just lay your head on his chest and I think that’s as far as yall will get

He doesn’t move around much. Not stiff per se, but he doesn’t move

Floyd 🫧:

He loves to squeeze so obviously he’s gonna love to cuddle you, and especially you cause you’re Shrimpy, duh

He’s gonna wrap himself all over you, and he won’t let up during the night. He gets an excuse to squeeze you so he’s not gonna pass it up

He moves around a lot in his sleep, but he will drag you with him. He falls to the floor in the middle of the night, then so do you

He drools. Have fun <3

Kalim ☀️:

Mans is happy, it’s like a sleepover, just closer, which he also loves. He’s maybe a bit too happy to cuddle, he’s smiling and giggling

He hangs on to you, and he’ll want you to do the same, it’s more nice that way

Being cuddled or being the person to cuddle the other, he doesn’t matter, loves it all

He also moves around a lot, he has energy, so just bear with him. Also he’ll probably gravitate away from you sometimes

He doesn’t mean it

Jamil 🐍:

He’s not quite fond of it, he’s busy, he has to wake up early, he “doesn’t have time for it.”

But…they are nice, and they help him sleep better, and they help him wake up feeling a lot better, especially getting to see your sleepy face. Yall he’s gaslighting himself

He prefers you to lay your head on his chest and kinda drape your arm over him. It’s a better position for him, and it also fights of the want to stay with you longer when he has to get up

Another guy who’s stiff, he gets a little more playable as he gets drowsier

Comments and likes are appreciated my lovelies <3

Master List

Please don’t steal or copy any of my work! You may, however, reblog if you’d want to!

Pictures belong to Disney Twisted Wonderland but are edited by me :)

[neeeooon]

Hi!!! First of all, love ur smau 🥹❤️‍🔥 second could I request Nagi, Reo, Rin, Bachira and Shidou with s/o who's a beauty influencer and wants to do my boyfriend does my makeup challenge?

hiii TYSM 🫶🫶 i love this lmao thank you for requesting, i hope you enjoy!!

“my boyfriend does my makeup” challenge with them ;

bf bllk x beauty influencer gn!reader

nagi seishiro

-> “let’s play rock, paper, scissors.” “all of a sudden?” “yep. if i win, you have to do my makeup for a challenge on my youtube.” “… fine.” low and behold, he loses

-> nagi sits slumped on a stool in front of you, the camera set up beside you so it catches only your side profiles. “this is a bad idea,” he hums while staring into your makeup bag like it’s a bomb needing to be defused

-> “y/n.. i don’t know about this��” but he’s already applying your eyeshadow, so it’s too late to back down now

-> his hopeless sigh causes you to peek an eye open. “can you give me a hint about what goes where?” “no hints!” “please?” “… curse my weak heart.” so you separate your products by where they go on your face, but don’t tell him what goes where

-> nagi takes all of two minutes to complete your makeup. “done.” “done? but—“ he spins your chair so you can look in the mirror

-> eyeshadow, blush, and lipgloss. that’s it. and you shrug, because you know that’s better than chapstick. “alright, i’ll take it.” “you look pretty.” “😳🤭”

mikage reo

-> “you will not regret this,” reo encouraged confidently as he plucked a brow brush from your bag. you had the strangest feeling that you were going to regret this !

-> reo talks to the camera, flashing your makeup products to the lenses and making you laugh at his confident cluelessness. “this..! is for y/n’s eyes—“ “lips,” “—lips! i said lips.”

-> “what are these?” “faux lashes. but we don’t need those—“ oh, we need these.” you start praying to choki the cactus

-> he takes his time, which makes you increasingly nervous, because things don’t feel entirely.. right

-> “okay! open your eyes!” and you look like if someone introduced a child to crayons and paper for the first time

-> nothing is blended correctly, so even if reo applied the correct product, it stands out unnaturally. the only part you’re seriously impressed in is, surprisingly, the lashes

-> “woah? you’re seriously great at applying lashes?” “am i? what about the rest of it?” “… well, practice makes perfect!”

-> your viewers find him and his confidence adorable, and give him tips on how to correctly use brushes and blend

itoshi rin

-> “am i doing this right?”

-> the genuine concern in your boyfriend’s voice made you smile and internally coo, but when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, you jolted back in a startled surprise. “uh. yeah! just, uh, do whatever feels right!”

-> you can tell he’s trying, and rin even look a seat away from the camera so that it would capture your entire face rather than his back. “are you sure..?”

-> “that’s the point of this challenge, babe,” you comfort him quietly, keeping your eyes shut to hide the final product until he’s done

-> his touch is soft against your skin, and he avoids anything that has to do with poking around your eyes (liner). “okay. don’t break up with me.”

-> it could be worse. you don’t start when you see yourself, which releases some of the tension in rin’s shoulders

-> “thank you, baby! i.. love it!” you give him a quick kiss before turning your attention to the camera. “and thank you all for watching my boyfriend do my makeup! rate him out of ten in the comments, haha. bye!”

bachira meguru

-> “sit still!” “bachira, that tickles!” “yeah, cause it’s working!” “that doesn’t even make sense!”

-> you were 99% sure bachira was blocking you entirely from your camera’s view, but you didn’t even care. you can’t stop laughing as he makes jokes, tickles you with your brushes, and makes the silliest concentrated faces you’ve ever seen

-> “bachira! focus!” “i’m so focused right now, y/n, it’s actually insane. woah, it shimmers!” “oh god.”

-> you should have known it was a mistake to give your boyfriend access to your glittery products, because when he yells “done!” you’re blinded by your reflection

-> “did you give me blue lips?” “i like blue!” and gold eyes?” “they sparkle!” “and—“ “you hate it :(“

-> so you turn to the camera and show your face off like it’s the most majestic thing in the world. “you guys, look at what my boyfriend did? his first time using makeup! don’t i look fabulous?!”

-> he wants to read the comments after upload, and thankfully your viewers were on the same page. they all complimented him, asked him to do their makeup next, etc. “see? it was great!” “.. okay! i wonder if we should go with purple lips next time—“ “next time ? :D ?”

shidou ryusei

-> “hey, babe?” “yes.” “would you be okay filming a video—“ “yes.” “—with me on my makeup channel?” “yes.”

-> you aren’t surprised when ryusei grabs exactly what he’s supposed to to do your makeup. you do get a little nervous when he reaches for the liquid liner, but his touch his light and fleeting, so you trust he didn’t go overboard

-> “you seem surprisingly good at this.” “surprisingly? babe, look at me. i’m an artist.” you smile at that and wait patiently for him to finish

-> shidou takes his time, and though you keep your eyes shut, you can feel that he’s going in the correct application order. he even put on your foundation, which most boyfriends in challenges skip

-> “do you want me to do your hair, too?” “i’m only doing the makeup—“ “wait here! let me get my dye~” “wait, let’s talk about this…”

-> when he’s finally done, you’re… jealous? “um, why do i look so good?” “because i know your color palette, y/n. i told you, i’m an artist!”

-> apparently your viewers agree, because they all but beg you to help shidou open his own influencer channel dedicated to hair and makeup. “they like you more than me.” “teehee~”

[interlude63]

Hearts and Fists

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: DUB-CON, toxic relationship, jealous!Rafe, public indecency, possessive behavior, fighting also english isn’t my first language.

Summary: You wanted to go on a romantic date — too bad your boyfriend has different plans.

Word count: 3k

──────────────────────

“I just have some shit to do, okay?” Rafe muttered over the phone, his tone clipped and dismissive.

Lately, that was all he ever said when you asked if he wanted to hang out. No explanation, no effort—just excuses. It was frustrating. Maddening, even.

Things weren’t always like this. For almost two years of you dating, Rafe had always made time for you. Back then, you were inseparable, stealing every free moment just to be together. But now?

It had been months since you’d gone on a proper date. Just the two of you. His lapdogs always coming along.

Well—except for the times when he fucked you. It seemed like the only thing Rafe wanted to do with you.

“Whatever.” You muttered before hanging up, frustration burning in your chest. Was it really that hard for him to make time for you? You weren’t asking for much.

Shaking it off, you decided to grab breakfast by yourself.

You were at The Wreck when you spotted Sarah sitting with her group of questionable friends. Not that Rafe was any less dubious himself.

He was always warning you about Pogues, telling you to stay away from them. But right now, you were so mad at him that you decided to do the exact opposite.

So, when Sarah came up to you and asked if you wanted to join them, you agreed. It was kind of awkward at first, especially since you’d never really hung out with her friend group before. But after some time, you started to actually enjoy it. The conversation flowed easier, and you found yourself laughing at things you wouldn’t normally find funny. It felt… different, but in a good way.

“So, we were thinking about hitting the beach later. Are you joining us?” Pope asked, and you thought it was really sweet of him to include you.

“Oh, I mean, you probably have plans with your boyfriend or something,” he added quickly, looking a little embarrassed by his question.

You smiled, trying to ease his discomfort. “No, I don’t have anything to do today, so if that’s not a problem, I’d love to join you guys.”

That day you came home later than you thought you would—it was already pretty dark outside. You were having so much fun with Sarah, John B, Kiara, JJ, and Pope, especially Pope, that you had completely lost track of time.

Young Heyward was so sweet and open-minded, and even though your boyfriend was such an asshole to him, he still got along with you effortlessly. You appreciated that more than you could say.

As you walked inside, your phone buzzed. It was a text from Pope: “Hope you made it home safely.” You smiled, feeling a warmth you hadn’t expected.

──────────────────────

The next morning, Rafe texted you.

“Be there in 10.”

No good morning, no want to hang out? It rubbed you the wrong way. Whenever you wanted to make plans, he was always too busy. But when he decided to see you, you had to drop everything. It felt… one-sided.

Still, you pushed the thought away and got ready. Not long after, you heard the sound of Rafe’s truck pulling into the driveway, followed by your mother opening the door for him.

Your parents adored Rafe. To them, he was the perfect match—good-looking, rich, and charismatic. The kind of guy any girl on the island would be lucky to have.

You sat in Rafe’s car, the engine humming softly beneath you. He hadn’t said much— his eyes stayed fixed on the road, only flicking toward you for the briefest second before looking ahead again.

“So… where are we going?” you finally asked, breaking the silence.

“My place,” he said, not even sparing you a glance.

The second you stepped into his room, Rafe was on you—no hesitation, no words. His hands were rough, stripping you down like he’d been waiting for this all night.

And for a moment, you let yourself believe that this—this—meant something. That maybe he missed you. Maybe he still cared.

──────────────────────

"Fuck, you're so perfect," he groaned, his body still trembling against yours as he collapsed on top of you.

The room was filled with the sound of heavy breathing, the scent of sweat and sex clinging to the air as you both came down from the high of it all.

Then, he started kissing you again, leaving small, lingering marks on your neck, each touch deliberate and slow, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I have to go, though,” he said as he get up from bed, already reaching for his clothes, slipping on his pants like he hadn’t just had you in every possible position.

You sat up, the warmth of his body still lingering against your skin. “Already?” You didn’t even try to hide the disappointment in your voice.

“Yeah. Topper and Kelce will be here soon.”

Your stomach twisted. Of course. He couldn’t even spend one full day with you without them showing up.

“They’re coming too?” you asked, unable to keep the distaste from your tone.

Rafe smirked. “Come on, no need to be jealous. It’s not like I’m fucking them too or something.”

Oh yeah. That definitely made you feel better.

You exhaled sharply, pressing your lips together before muttering, “I thought it’d be just us this time.”

Rafe’s eyes darkened at your tone. “Oh, fuck. Are you seriously about to throw a tantrum because I want to spend time with my friends?”

“No. But when you guys hang out, all you do is scream at the TV, drink beer, and talk shit about people. That’s not exactly my idea of fun.”

He scoffed. “It’s not like you can’t invite your friends over too.”

You shot him a pointed look. “Yeah, except I can’t—because you don’t like them. And whenever they are around, you’re mean to them.”

“Not my fault you pick the wrong friends,” he said with a shrug, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Anger bubbled up in your chest before you could stop it. “Maybe I picked the wrong boyfriend.” The words slipped out, barely a whisper—more for yourself than him.

But Rafe did hear.

In an instant, he was in front of you, gripping your jaw, forcing your gaze to his. His face was too close, his breath hot against your skin. His blue eyes burned into yours, dark with something unreadable.

“What was that?” His voice was low, dangerous.

“Nothing,” you muttered quickly, suddenly regretting every single word.

Rafe’s grip didn’t loosen. “No, say that shit again,” he challenged.

But before you could respond, the doorbell rang. His head snapped toward the sound, jaw clenched. Without another word, he let go and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

So, you spent the rest of the day with Rafe and his friends. It was just as boring as you’d expected—nothing but drinking, shouting over the TV and mindless video games, and talking trash about Pogues, but you endured it. Like always. You had nothing else to do anyway, and you were just so desperate to be with your boyfriend, even if it meant settling for something that didn’t feel right.

”Rafe, can you drive me home?” you asked after realizing it was getting late.

“Can’t you stay the night?” he countered, a smirk tugging at his lips—the one you knew all too well. Before you could respond, he leaned in, pressing a slow kiss to your neck before burying his face there.

“I can’t, I need to—” You barely got the words out before he lifted his head, his eyes locking onto yours, almost pleading.

“Pretty please, hmm? We could go to the movies tomorrow. I heard they’re playing one of those trash romance films you like so much,” he teased, trying to sway you.

“They’re not trash, Rafe,” you mumbled, heat rising to your cheeks.

“Of course.” His grin widened. “So, do we have a deal?”

And that’s how you ended up spending the night at the Cameron estate.

──────────────────────

You were beyond happy that Rafe had actually taken you out on a date, so you made sure to dress up nicely. Luckily, you kept some of your clothes in his closet, and after a little searching, you picked out a pretty blue dress—one you knew he’d like.

At the outdoor cinema, the two of you sat side by side in fold-out chairs, the massive screen glowing in front of you. The night air was warm, the low hum of the movie filling the space around you. Popcorn and soda in your lap, Rafe finishing off a beer. It had been about twenty minutes into the film, and you were really enjoying it so far.

Rafe, on the other hand, clearly wasn’t.

You could feel his eyes on you more than the screen, stealing glances instead of paying attention. And then, his hand found your thigh. It was nothing unusual—he did that often—but as the minutes passed, his fingers slowly started to creep higher.

“Rafe,” you warned softly.

He only hummed in response, pretending not to hear the hint of caution in your voice. Instead of stopping, his hand slid up even further.

“Just relax,” Rafe murmured, his voice low and commanding as his fingers grazed over the thin fabric of your underwear.

When he pulled your panties to the side, a rush of fear hit you—there were people around, and you couldn’t shake the worry of being seen. But despite the anxiety, a soft, involuntary sound escaped you—a mix between a sigh and a whimper. Rafe’s eyes stayed fixed on you, sharp and analytical, drinking in every reaction.

His thumb drifted upward, tracing slow, deliberate circles over your clit, his touch both torturous and addicting. His eyes darken as he watched you tremble beneath him. “Just like that” he whispered and without warning, he slipped two fingers inside, stretching you open—your breath caught, your body arching as you surrendered to his touch.

You were still a little sore from last night, a lingering ache that blended with the slow, building pleasure. Rafe was gentle, his touch careful yet deliberate, each movement sending a wave of warmth through you. You could feel your body responding to him, a building tension deep inside, and before long, you came on his fingers, a rush of pleasure flooding you.

“Good girl,” Rafe murmured, his voice low and filled with obvious satisfaction as he watched you, the praise made you shiver.

──────────────────────

After that, Rafe let you watch the movie in peace, mostly staying on his phone. You smiled to yourself, enjoying one of the movie’s scenes—it was so cute and romantic. Then, suddenly, you heard that familiar voice. “Hi, man” It was Topper. Fucking Topper. What was he doing here?

“What’s up, bro?” your boyfriend responded.

“Come on, baby,” Rafe said softly, gesturing for you to move onto his lap so Topper could take your seat. At this point, you were so frustrated you didn’t even care. You made room for Topper, just wanting to finish the movie. But, of course, now they were talking, disturbing your focus.

You needed a break from all this, so you stood up, telling them you were going to grab some soda.

You picked up your snack from the concession stand and were heading back when you heard a voice behind you. “Hi.” It was JJ, waving at you, with Pope standing beside him.

“Oh, hey! Are you guys enjoying the movie?” you asked, trying to keep it light.

Pope froze for a second, clearly caught off guard by your attention. He hesitated, his eyes darting between you and JJ, clearly uncomfortable. JJ, sensing the awkwardness, quickly chimed in, “Yeah, the film’s great, right Pope?”

The boy cleared his throat, his voice quieter than usual. “Uh, yeah… yeah, it’s really great,” he stammered, unable to hide the nervousness in his tone. His gaze lingered on you for just a moment before he quickly looked away, his face flushing slightly.

You wanted to talk to them a little more, but you knew you couldn’t keep Rafe waiting. He’d get suspicious, like he always did. So, with a quick smile, you said, “Alright, gotta go, see you guys later,” turning on your heels to walk away. But as you took a step, you suddenly froze. Rafe’s gaze was locked on you, his eyes burning with fury and jealousy. The intensity of his stare made your heart race, and you could feel the weight of his anger without even needing to say a word.

“Rafe,” you started, trying to calm him down, hoping he’d understand it was just a casual conversation about the film, nothing serious. But Rafe didn’t have it. Without warning, he stormed over to the Pogues, Topper right behind him.

“Come on, man, we were just talking,” JJ tried to reason with him, his voice tense. But it was no use. Rafe’s temper was already boiling over. He swung, landing a punch straight to JJ’s face.

JJ hit the ground hard, dazed, and Rafe stood over him, seething. “My girl won’t be talking to some fucking Pogues,” he spat, the words sharp and full of contempt. The spit hit the ground beside JJ.

Pope, fuming with anger, couldn’t hold back anymore. “You’re a fucking psycho!” he shouted at Rafe, his voice shaking with fury. But before he could say another word, Topper stepped in. Grabbing Pope by the shirt, he slammed his fist into his stomach repeatedly, each hit harder than the last. Pope gasped, his breath knocked out of him, struggling to stay on his feet as Topper’s blows landed with brutal force.

The crowd had gathered around, forming a tight circle, all eagerly watching the chaos unfold. They were shouting, urging the fight on with loud cheers and taunts.

JJ had managed to get back on his feet, fists raised, and the fight between him and Rafe ignited again. You couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Stop! Please, just stop!” you begged, rushing between them, your voice trembling. You grabbed Rafe’s arm, trying to pull him back, but he was still seething. JJ was breathing heavily, his face bruised from the last punch, but he wasn’t backing down either.

“You look at her again, I’ll fucking break your skull open!” Rafe shouted, his voice filled with raw fury.

You turned just in time to see Topper’s hands wrapped around Pope’s throat, choking him. Pope’s face was turning red, his eyes wide in panic as he struggled to breathe, unable to draw in enough air. The sight sent a wave of panic through you, but the violence was escalating so quickly, you didn’t know how to stop it.

The sudden wail of police sirens cut through the chaos, and in an instant, the crowd started scattering, running in all directions to avoid getting caught. Topper finally released his grip on Pope, letting him collapse to the ground, gasping for air. He quickly turned to Rafe, his eyes wide with urgency.

“Come on, the cops are here!” Topper shouted, pulling at Rafe’s arm. But Rafe, still seething with rage, shoved JJ one last time, sending him stumbling back.

“You’re lucky, bitch,” Rafe spat, his voice low and full of venom. His eyes remained locked on JJ for a moment, as if daring him to do something. But as the sirens grew louder, Rafe finally turned. His gaze shifted to you, and without warning, he grabbed your wrist, his grip tight and almost painful.

“You’re not so much,” he muttered, his voice dripping with frustration and possessiveness as he began to drag you through the crowd. You stumbled to keep up with him, the chaotic scene still unfolding behind you, but Rafe wasn’t paying attention to anything else.

And you? You were furious about what he meant by that.

──────────────────────

He dragged you all the way down to his truck. You didn’t see a soul around—he had parked in an empty, desolate spot. The sky had started to turn a deep navy blue as dusk settled in. Without warning, he slammed you onto the car, pinning you against its metal surface.

“I leave you for one second, and you go running to the Pogues?” he shouted, his voice seething with fury. His hair was messy from the fight, blood staining his chin and soaking through his shirt, his appearance wild and chaotic.

“I was just saying hi.” you said, barely able to get the words out

“For what? You want to fuck him? Or maybe you already did, huh? Did you fuck JJ?” he hissed, his voice full of venom. He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath. You shook your head, but it only seemed to make Rafe angrier. “How about Pope, hmm? He was blushing like a bitch” he sneered. Then, with a swift motion, he punched his car with a fist, so close to your head that you flinched, fear coursing through you. For the first time in your life, you were so terrified that you truly thought he was going to kill you.

Rafe’s eyes locked onto yours, intense and burning with fury as he snarled, “Maybe you fucked them both?” He grabbed your throat, and you could feel his bloodied knuckles pressing against your skin. His face inches from yours, his breath hot and heavy, noses nearly touching. “Were you a good cumdumpster to them?” he hissed, and the words made you want to vomit.

Tears blurred your eyes and stained your face as Rafe roughly turned you around, his chest pressing hard against your back, his breath hot and heavy against your skin. One of his hands was still on your shoulder, gripping it tightly, while the other moved toward his pants. You heard the sound of him unbuckling his belt, and it made you whimper, a wave of terror washing over you.

Rafe didn’t even take the time to prepare you, shoving his full length inside you, his face buried in the back of your neck and your hair as he muttered with disgust, “God, you’re so pathetic, I can’t even look at you.”

[muniimyg]

BAD HABIT // JJK

06 | big dipper // series m.list

note: hihi ,, thank u for waiting !! this ch is def worth it tbh </3 no warnings ,, just like ... oc goes off on jungkook ,, jungkook gets blindfolded ,, more context on their auras ??? yeah ... tension too ! pls do not be shy and send in ur thoughts !!! i would love to know how u're liking the fic so far as it's my first fantasy au !!!!! (clearly still very nervy lmfao) mwah ,, enj !

//

the past few days have been anything but easy for jungkook.

not that he deserves easy—he knows he doesn’t. if anything, this is exactly what he should’ve expected. what does surprise him, though, is just how well you execute the petty treatment. how effortlessly you lock him out. how, no matter how many times he shuts his eyes, focuses, and tries to slip into your thoughts—he can’t.

it’s like the connection doesn’t exist.

which makes no sense.

because it does.

the string between you is golden and bright, undeniable to everyone who has ever seen it. and yet, there’s this… knot. this missing piece. it’s so fucking strange. he felt you before—felt the way your heart would race, the heat that would bloom across your skin. he knew when you were sick, when you were anxious. when the bond first tied, his own pulse had stumbled just trying to match yours. he cared so much when it happened...

but now?

now, it’s empty.

like someone cut the string without actually severing it.

he first noticed it that night in the garden.

you had only been soulmates for a few hours, and still, he felt something. at first, he thought maybe he was imagining it. overhyping the entire invisible string phenomenon. but then, the symptoms started stacking—waves of nausea when you were overwhelmed, your voice in his head when you caught his stray thoughts in class.

you’re in his head.

but he’s not in yours.

and if he’s not in your head, then what about your heart?

after that night, jungkook had gone to bed feeling like absolute shit. you told him he made you feel better—but he couldn’t feel it. couldn’t be sure. how could he trust words alone when everything inside you was a blank slate to him?

it freaked him out.

it got to him.

he spent the night tossing and turning, unable to catch even fifteen minutes of real sleep. and then, the next morning, when you walked in well-rested and seemingly fine—it hit him like a freight train.

it’s him.

he’s the problem.

and as fucked up, childish, and selfish as it is—that’s why he called you boring.

because you are.

because you’re blank.

because he, the so-called master of manipulation, can’t get inside your head.

but he sure as hell can get under your skin.

"so everyone, partner up—and obviously, soulmates go with soulmates," namjoon announces, finishing his rundown of the sparring activity.

you barely register the rest.

instead, you watch the class shuffle into place. soulmates move toward each other. friends pair up. the guys—still without soulmates—team up amongst themselves.

and jungkook?

jungkook leans against a tree, one foot propped lazily against the bark, arms folded over his chest. his expression is unreadable, but the tilt of his head, the barely-there smirk, sends heat curling up your spine. he plays with his lighter.

you exhale sharply and motion for him to come over.

he stays put, smirk growing.

then, he mouths, "don’t wanna."

your jaw clenches. you point at him, then to the ground in front of you.

"come here. now."

jungkook blinks, feigning innocence.

you cross your arms.

you wait—a second, a minute, a moment too long.

then, just as you start to turn away, he appears right in front of you.

"you're impatient today," he remarks, voice smooth, teasing. "is that how fast you need me? i can teleport wherever you want me to go. tell me to go away, i'll do it."

you sigh, pressing your fingers to your temple. before you can retort, he lifts his hands, and with the subtlest flex of his fingers, two sparring sticks float from the pile and dart into his grasp. he catches them effortlessly and offers you one, grinning.

across the field, namjoon groans.

"jungkook, did you really need to use your aura for that? just walk like a normal person."

jungkook huffs.

"wow. it’s like everyone hates me today."

"maybe we do," you mutter, snatching the stick from his hand.

this was foreseeable.

you don’t need jin’s aura to know how this is going to go. the class knows, too. there’s a shift in energy, hushed murmurs, amused glances exchanged.

from where he leans against a tree, jin exhales a chuckle. “this should be interesting.”

and it is.

because while everyone else has started, you haven’t moved past the first three strikes.

not because you aren’t trying.

but because jungkook isn’t.

you lunge forward, aiming a strike at his chest. he doesn’t even flinch. his own stick twirls idly in his fingers, his gaze flicking toward the treetops like he’s more interested in cloud formations than the fight.

he dodges every attack without breaking a sweat. side-steps. pivots. barely moves.

and worse—he looks bored.

your foot pivots. another strike slices through the air. jungkook steps back just enough for it to skim past his sleeve.

“getting closer,” he muses. “try again.”

irritation burns at your spine. you exhale sharply, feint left, strike right. this time, you land it. the stick grazes his arm—not enough to bruise, but enough to count.

jungkook stumbles back dramatically, hissing through his teeth as if you’d run him through with a blade.

"shit—"

the class falls silent for a beat.

then, snickers ripple through the air.

"oh, come on," you deadpan.

jungkook blinks at you, playing it up even more. "that was—you stabbed me."

taehyung mutters something under his breath. jin actually laughs. namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose.

jungkook sighs, twirling his stick again. then, in a movement so smooth it’s almost insulting, he flicks yours aside with a gentle tap.

wood clashes.

you stumble back.

cheers erupt from the watching trainees. but you just glare at him, chest heaving.

"again."

you grip your stick tighter, eyes narrowing. across from you, jungkook still looks at ease. hands loose. weight shifted just enough to be casual. like he’s humoring you.

the heat in your chest flares.

“jungkook, are you even trying?”

he shrugs, nonchalant.

“dunno. are you?”

jimin chokes on a laugh. "god, jungkook’s asking for it."

your jaw locks.

the room feels warmer. everyone's watching. you’ve never cared about proving yourself before—but this feels different.

nam joon's voice cuts in, sharp. "jungkook, get it together. look at ___! she’s clearly upset.”

jungkook’s eyes flicker toward namjoon. then back to you.

and something changes... his teasing drops. his fingers tighten around his stick.

“you want me to try?”

you swallow, nodding once.

he shifts, expression unreadable. “whatever you want, p.”

then, he moves.

the first exchange is fast. too fast. you counter, but his strikes come harder, sharper. for the first time, he’s fighting back.

and you’re losing.

badly.

his strikes come faster, sharper. his movements are precise. he isn’t holding back anymore, and suddenly, you’re struggling to keep up. the wooden sticks crack against each other, loud against the backdrop of rustling trees and hushed whispers.

then, in a split second, he spins.

your stick is wrenched from your hands. before you can react, jungkook grips it, tugging it toward him—until you’re standing nearly chest to chest.

then—

he taps himself out.

a grin spreads across his face. the trainees erupt into giggles. your shoulders rise and fall as you catch your breath.

jungkook extends a hand.

"good game."

it wasn’t.

it wasn’t fair.

it wasn't good.

it was just so him.

instead of shaking his hand, you shove your sparring stick against his chest and avoid his eyes.

"excuse me," you mutter before turning away from the group and heading towards the garden.

jungkook watches you leave.

he doesn’t say anything. he doesn’t move. but, after a few beats, jungkook follows.

you don’t acknowledge him, but you know he’s there.

you can feel it.

the ground hums beneath your feet, a faint tremor shifting the soil like the earth itself is attuned to him. the air turns crisp, infused with something familiar—fresh rain on warm stone, something sharp at the edges, something distinctly him. being his soulmate changes everything.

good and bad.

so you make him work for it.

you take the long way to the garden, slipping between hedges, ducking beneath ivy, fingers grazing the thick vines trailing along the palace walls. the scent of jasmine clings to your skin as you move, quiet and deliberate. you don’t look back.

but he follows.

always.

by the time you reach the stone bench beneath the willow, the late afternoon sun drapes golden shadows over the grass. the leaves rustle overhead, and the distant chime of a wind bell carries through the stillness.

he doesn’t speak.

you wait.

finally, after what feels like forever, jungkook exhales.

“you didn’t come last night.”

the words break through the quiet, heavy and deliberate.

“hmm?” you hum, dragging the sound out just enough to make him second-guess himself.

his jaw ticks. “i felt sick.”

the way he says it—careful, measured—betrays him.

a test.

a trap.

you don’t spring it... not yet.

instead, you lift your gaze, watching him with something unreadable.

“exactly how sick were you?”

his expression flickers—just for a second—but it’s enough. the shift. the realization that you know he’s lying. that you didn’t come because you didn’t want to. that he had waited for you, and you had chosen to ignore it.

he doesn’t like that. not one bit.

for the first time since class, he looks at you. really looks at you. and for the first time, you let him.

the garden is quiet this time of day. that’s why you go. but now, the quiet stretches thin between you, taut as a thread about to snap. the leaves sway overhead. jungkook shifts his weight.

then, without thinking, you step forward.

he doesn’t move. just watches.

you lift a hand, resting the back of it against his forehead.

warm. not feverish, but—warm.

jungkook stills.

for a split second, he stops breathing. the world falls away, distant and unimportant, because all he can focus on is your touch. the way your fingers linger before you pull away.

he reacts before he can think.

his hand catches yours, fingers wrapping around your wrist—not tight, but firm. firm enough to stop you.

you blink.

he tugs you closer.

your other hand lands against his chest, steadying yourself against the solid weight of him.

he is warm here, too. warmer than he should be. his heartbeat is steady, but there’s something frantic beneath the surface, a tension coiled too tight.

jungkook doesn’t know what to do with this. doesn’t know what to do with the warmth spreading through him like something foreign. something dangerous.

his voice is quiet when he speaks. almost unsteady.

“what are you doing to me?”

your lips part slightly, breath catching—

then, you push away.

he lets go immediately, like your touch burns.

your expression smooths out, unreadable. you take a step back.

“nothing,” you say. “that’s the thing.”

jungkook exhales sharply, head tilting. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

you hold his gaze. then, deliberately, you let your aura slip. let it expand—thick, unmistakable.

resistance.

jungkook’s breath catches.

“i can’t read you,” he says eventually, voice low, like he hates admitting it. “i... i could for a day or two... but it doesn’t make sense. this does't make sense. you knew i wasn’t sick last night?”

you nod.

“... you can feel—”

“yeah,” you breathe. “i can feel your symptoms. i can feel when your body reacts to me. i can hear your thoughts when you let me—when you want me to. i feel the bond."

his fingers twitch at his sides. his brows pinch slightly, like this realization is foreign. you inhale, steady. then exhale, letting down your guard just enough for him to feel it.

your aura glows—not to the eye, but in presence.

jungkook stiffens.

“resistance,” he pieces together. “that’s… that’s why i can’t—”

“i had my guard down when we met. i was giving you a chance, and you…” your voice softens, eyes searching his. “you can’t manipulate me. i refuse it.”

his tongue presses against the inside of his cheek. then, he scoffs, shaking his head.

“who said i had plans to manipulate you?”

“isn’t that your aura?”

“and if it is?” he steps closer, chin tilting. “come on, p. you think you have me all figured out?”

your lips curl into a small smile. not sweet. not cruel. something in between.

“yeah, i do,” you say. “the truth is, i’m not upset that you find me boring.”

jungkook waits.

“i’m upset that you’re boring.”

his brows furrow slightly. “what does that mean?”

you step back, turning toward the garden bench as you speak over your shoulder.

“you think i’m just a princess? fine. to each their own. you think you’re too good for me—”

“i never said that—”

“what?” your voice sharpens. “you think you’re not good enough, then? see, i’m confused—frustrated, actually. i understand i’m the newbie to the divinity—to this… to you,” you pause, eyes finding his. “but why should i stand around and let myself be collateral damage to your low self-esteem and ego?”

his expression hardens. offense first, then defense.

“who the fuck said shit about me having low self-esteem—”

“no one,” you almost laugh. “but that’s it, isn’t it? your ego can't swallow the fact that you can't read me. that you can't manipulate your place in my life... that there's a possibility that you can and will fail and have to depend on trust and love to be enough for people like me to stay.”

jungkook clenches his jaw.

"i don't know what the fuck you're talking about," jungkook spits. "do you think you're better than us because you're the divine?"

"no," you answer steadily. "i think i know more because i've been away from the divine. i have perspective. i know what's real—what's out there."

"i know what's out there too—"

"you didn't live in it," you breathe. "jungkook, people in the real world have to do things they don't want to do. no manipulation in time, no manipulation in feelings or things—they face life... you sleep during class. you don’t care when we spar. you don’t care about me—”

“___, you can’t possibly be calling me out and using these as your fucking excuses—”

“i just want you to know it’s okay,” you say it softer this time, like you mean it. “has anyone accepted you... just the way you are? if not, let me be the first one to do so. jungkook, do what you want. be who you are. figure things out or give up—it doesn’t matter. i can live like this, okay? we don’t have to be obsessed with each other. we can fight the bond if that’s what you really want—”

jungkook’s mind spins.

you’re saying so much shit that doesn’t make sense to him. this is escalating too fast. he wasn’t prepared for this. he didn’t know the weight of his words until now.

“it’s not what i want,” he spits out. “___, can you please slow down—”

you shake your head.

“i just want you to know this: you’re wrong if you think i’m the type to tend to someone’s inability to see their goodness. their worth… their purpose. i’m a big believer in accepting what you think you deserve. if you can’t accept me, that’s fine. maybe i’m not what you deserve. but that’s not on me, jungkook. you limit yourself. you don’t believe in fate. you don’t want this—”

“do you?” he croaks out. “do you want this?”

for a moment, you’re stunned.

regardless of all the shit he’s put you through in the past two weeks, you don’t have it in yourself to lie.

“i want more,” you say finally. “not this.”

more.

jungkook didn't know what that meant exactly... but this was a start. he isn't an apologetic type, so this is his... version of it.

trying.

again.

he stands in front of you, rolling his wrists, exhaling slow. his eyes flicker over your stance—checking, assessing, adjusting before he even moves.

“keep your weight forward,” jungkook instructs, tilting his chin toward your feet. “you hesitate too much.”

you nod, shifting slightly. he steps in, light on his feet, and you match him, falling into motion as he throws a testing jab. you dodge. pivot. counter. he blocks. you move again.

but it’s wrong.

every strike, every dodge, every block feels a second off. like walking out of rhythm with someone—close but not quite. you follow his cues, but there’s no flow, no instinct, just effort.

jungkook exhales sharply.

“again.”

he moves quicker this time, forcing you to react faster, but it only makes the disconnect more obvious. he shifts left when you expect right. your counters don’t land where they should. his frustration grows, simmering beneath his skin, evident in the slight drag of his feet, the way his breath turns shallow. he shakes his head, readjusting.

you know that feeling—the itch of something not working, of knowing it should but not being able to make it.

you step back, panting, watching the tension tighten in his shoulders.

“can we try something?” you ask, voice softer now.

jungkook pauses. 

he blinks at you, expression unreadable, before tilting his head slightly.

“try what?”

you don’t wait for his response.

“wait here,” you tell him before you turn on your heel, feet light against the stone path as you take off in a quiet sprint. the air is thick with the lingering tension of missed steps, of a rhythm neither of you could quite grasp, but you know—you know—it isn’t just about movement.

jungkook doesn’t call after you. 

he stays where he is, watching as you disappear.

when you return, there’s gold handkerchief is wrapped around your fingers. the fabric glows in the dim light, soft between your hands as you come to a stop in front of him, close enough that you see the slight furrow of his brow.

his gaze flickers to yours, unreadable.

“trust me?” you ask, already reaching up.

jungkook exhales. then, slowly, he nods.

you tiptoe, wrapping the cloth over his eyes, knotting it at the back of his head. his shoulders stay squared, but you feel the way his breath slows, the way he stills beneath your touch. his lashes flutter against the fabric before he adjusts his stance again, waiting.

this time, when you move, he doesn’t see you—he feels you.

“focus on me,” you tell him. 

“h-how—”

“i’ll focus on you too. maybe if we do this properly, our auras will meet. i can put my guard up any time, but putting it down is something entirely different. it’s beyond my control to put it down. it’s a reaction to you—your vulnerability, not mine.”

jungkook swallows, letting your words sink in. 

"how do you know this shit?" he attempts to hide his suspicion.

you laugh. "have you forgotten who my grandparents are? just because i was raised outside this palace doesn't mean i wasn't educated and trained for the divinity."

"you are the divinity."

"that i am, little prince."

you don't know it, but he rolls his eyes.

"and you're a princess."

"that i am not."

he chuckles. so do you. the moment is light.

then, he takes a deep breath and envisions you.

in his head, it’s hazy. there’s only so much of you that he memorized in a short period of time—but he hopes it’s enough. he recalls the way you turn your head and how pretty your neck is. how long your hair is and how your eyes smile before your lips curve into one.

before you know it, the air shifts and he strikes. there’s a slight tremor in your breath when you hesitate—a quiet hitch when he moves too close.

his body reacts without thinking, syncing to yours in a way sight never allowed. he follows the push and pull, the rise and fall of your heartbeat, matching it, learning it. and for the first time, there’s no disconnect—no distance or this… force that pushes him away. 

no struggle.

just instinct.

just you.

and then, in a way he can’t explain, he knows where you’ll be before you even move. 

he anticipates every pivot, every feint, as if something unseen is guiding him—no, pulling him. there’s a thread between you now, stretched taut between his ribs and yours, humming with energy. it tightens when you step back, loosens when you exhale. he feels it with every shift, with every breath you take.

it’s disorienting at first, the pull, the quiet certainty of it. but it’s right. more right than anything has felt in a long, long time.

his heart pounds, syncing to yours. for the first time, jungkook doesn’t fight it.

instead, he lets it fall.

in so many fucking ways, he lets himself fall.

you bend over and tug the handkerchief off of him. 

then, you extend a hand.

jungkook squints, adjusting to the night. then, he stares at it for a beat too long, his pride hanging in the space between you. you didn’t exactly win… but you didn’t lose either. regardless, he feels defeated. 

the garden is quiet except for the sound of both your breaths, still uneven, still trying to settle. the tie had been hard-earned—one final strike knocking him down, leaving him on his back, staring at the night sky like it held the answers he didn’t.

you wiggle your fingers. “good game?”

his lips press into a line before he exhales, reaching up. his palm slides against yours, rough and warm, and you brace yourself as he uses the momentum to pull himself to his feet.

too strong.

the force drags you forward, nearly colliding into his chest.

you stumble, hands reaching for balance, and jungkook catches you before you can fall completely. one hand wraps around your waist, the other grasping your arm, steadying you like it’s second nature. his fingers press firm into your skin, and for a moment, neither of you move.

your palm lands flat against his chest.

a sharp inhale. not yours.

his heartbeat hammers against your touch, wild and restless. the same way it felt when he was blindfolded—when he had to rely on instinct, when the rhythm of his breath synced with yours and something unseen pulled tight between you.

you lift your gaze.

jungkook is already looking.

your eyes meet and it’s like you’re the only thing he sees. you see it. you look into his eyes and freaking see what he sees. 

you. only you.

his lips suddenly part like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. his eyes flicker, unreadable, caught between hesitation and something heavier. his grip on your waist doesn’t loosen. if anything, it lingers, fingertips pressing in like he’s mapping out the shape of you, committing it to memory.

"what are you thinking right now?" he asks rather shyly. “since i… i can’t read your mind.”

your voice is soft. it curls between you, laced with something you’re not sure you want to name.

jungkook swallows. his grip tightens—just slightly, just enough for you to feel it… seconds stretch.

then—before anything else, before you let yourself think too hard about it—you smile. you let out a small chuckle, tapping his chest with the back of your hand.

"figure it out, jungkook."

the walk back is quiet, but the air hums with something… different. 

the weight of the sparring match lingers between you—his hands on your waist, your fingers on his chest, the breathless moment you shared before you pulled away. now, as you walk side by side beneath the moonlight, the space between you feels impossibly small, as if the night itself is pushing you closer.

your fingertips brush once. a fleeting touch, barely there. but it’s enough to send a pulse through the invisible string that binds you.

twice. his breath stutters. 

three times. 

fuck.

you hear it. 

not aloud, but in the space between your thoughts, in the echo of his heartbeat. it’s his voice though. you know it is… and it’s the sheer panic in his mind and the way his body that betrays him. you giggle before you can stop yourself, and jungkook tenses beside you, as if caught in something he wasn’t ready to admit. 

his jaw tightens. 

his ears burn red.

you reach your doorstep too soon. your heart is still racing, tangled up in him, in the weight of his presence. and before you can stop yourself, you blurt out, "i can send a guard to take you back to yours—"

jungkook scoffs, low and amused. “i can handle myself.”

you fumble for an excuse. 

“it’s just that… it’s dark.”

he glances up, a slow smirk pulling at his lips. the night sky is dark, but the stars shine almost as bright as you. it’s enough for him to know where he’s going.

“the stars are out.”

you follow his gaze. the sky is vast, endless, and speckled with constellations that stretch far beyond the palace walls. the kind of night that feels infinite.

“they are…” you exhale softly. “wow, they’re so bright here.”

jungkook tilts his head. “you do live in the highest point of the palace.”

you laugh, shaking your head.

“still. regardless of where i am, i can never spot the big dipper.”

he hums, tilting his chin toward the sky. “really? it’s over there.”

“where?” you ask, mimicking his gaze.

“made you look.”

you gasp, swatting his arm, and he grins—really grins, boyish and unguarded, like the version of him that slips through when he forgets to keep his walls up. it sends something warm curling in your chest.

you soften, stepping back toward your door. 

“goodnight, jungkook.”

he lingers, just for a moment. the moonlight catches in his eyes, in the way he watches you like he wants to say something but doesn’t. instead, he exhales, the corner of his lips quirking up.

“goodnight, princess.”

you slip inside, shutting the door behind you. the guards reposition themselves and ask jungkook if he’d like to be accompanied back. he shakes his head, declining the offer. then, he puzzles the guards for a moment. 

jungkook doesn’t leave immediately. 

he waits, glancing up at the stars once more. and then, with a quiet flick of his fingers, the sky shifts. the darkness of the night sky almost flickers. the clouds part ever so slightly, rearranging the constellations.

the big dipper, now perfectly clear. 

just for you.

[ekingston]

also on ao3.

“Would you stop fondling my boobs?” Lena hisses, watching as a man nearly wanders into traffic staring at what looks like Lena Luthor, elbow-deep in her own cleavage. He swerves, promptly face-planting into a lamp post when he sees Supergirl herself slap Lena’s hand away. “We’re in public,” Lena reminds her.

“Ouch,” Kara yelps. “Gentle!”

“Sorry,” Lena says. But she only feels a little bad, because at least Kara is now cradling her arm instead of getting Lena arrested for indecent exposure.

Kara is still squirming when Lena checks them in, the receptionist beaming at her in a way Lena has never been beamed at before. Dr. Sattler’s ready for them. Kara gives Lena a last, panicked look, and then she takes the therapist’s offered hand and introduces herself.

“Lena Luthor,” Kara tells Dr. Sattler with a lopsided grin. “Good to meet you.”

“And Supergirl,” Dr. Sattler says, turning to Lena, her gaze briefly flitting down at the S on Lena’s chest. “How wonderful you managed to finally come in.”

Kara flops down onto the couch with a grateful sigh, the skirt of her dress gapping immodestly as she kicks off Lena’s heels. Lena nudges her legs to close them, annoyed. The injustice of Kara getting to act as if she wants to be here. As if she hasn’t been avoiding this visit for months.

(Do we really need to do this? Kara had asked Lena just this morning. Kara’s gaze had been a cross-eyed, sparkling green as Lena applied her eyeliner with a trembling, freckled hand.

Lena had growled in response, knowing even the barest bit of unintentional pressure could blind her for life. We’re not going to cancel just because we’re wearing each other’s bodies, Kara. Hold still.

I bet you’d look good with an eyepatch, Kara had breathed, after which Lena had given up on the endeavor altogether.)

“Your work must keep you busy,” the therapist says magnanimously.

Lena huffs out a laugh. “You can say that again.” And when the Dr. looks at her, curious, “Being a superhero and all that. Always off saving the world!”

“That goes for both of us,” Kara points out. “You—I—don’t even make it to bed, most nights.” And then, softer, “Even when you tell me you’ll wait up.”

“I wish I wouldn’t.” Lena turns to the therapist and explains, “I eat when I’m bored. She comes home to a bed full of crumbs. Who wants to have sex when the sheets are littered with bits of Captain Crunch?”

Dr. Sattler opens her mouth to answer, but Kara doesn’t give her the chance. “Maybe I could make an effort not to be such a neat freak,” she pouts.

Lena’s eyes flash. “Maybe I could make an effort to wash my hands after I use the bathroom,” she snaps back.

Kara sits up. “You do!” she shouts. “You’re just quick about it!”

Lena sighs. “The laws of nature don’t work that way, darling.”

Kara makes a face Lena vows never to make again if she ever gets her body back. “I leave my hair in the shower.”

Lena snorts. “I wash it down the drain. That’s worse.”

“But you fix it!” Kara looks at her with Lena's own wide, pleading eyes. “That’s how—how you show love. By fixing things.”

“Wrong,” Lena flings back. “I break them, so I can feel needed.”

Kara blinks at her, looking hurt.

“That’s.” Dr. Sattler pauses for a moment. “Some very impressive self-reflection,” she decides.

Lena smiles at her, glad they’re getting somewhere.

Kara looks from the therapist to Lena, her blood red lips—easier than eyeliner—pinching together with uncanny chagrin. “I faked my own kidnapping to get out of her family’s Thanksgiving,” she accuses darkly.

Lena sniffs. “I have a codependent relationship with my sister.”

Kara gasps. Dr. Sattler’s eyes widen. Lena arches an eyebrow with considerable effort.

“Oh yeah?” Kara sputters. “Well,” she flails, her nostrils flaring. “You—" she takes a deep breath. "I have mommy issues.”

Oh, fuck no. That's too far. “You do not,” Lena squawks.

"No?" Kara cocks her jaw in a way that makes Lena feel, for the first time, a little sorry for the men she’s similarly stared down. “Let’s find out,” Kara says with the smallest of smirks, and then she retrieves, horribly, from Lena’s purse, Lena’s phone.

“You wouldn’t,” Lena whispers, her heart stopping.

Kara jumps up with surprising agility, dancing out of Lena’s reach. “This’ll just take a second,” she promises Dr. Sattler. “Hello? Mother?”

Lena scrambles over to the other end of the couch, practically throwing herself across the room in an effort to get to Kara.

“No reason,” Kara croons into the phone, grinning as she maneuvers herself away from Lena’s grasp. An elaborately painted and unfortunately placed vase isn’t so lucky. “Just calling to say hey,” Kara says. “It’s been a while, huh?”

Lena really should have taken Kara up on her offer to help Lena master her power of flight. “Don’t make me hurt you,” she yells.

“It is!” Kara sing-songs. “Still going strong, yup. Which is why I called! We were wondering—”

“Don’t you dare,” Lena hisses, clawing for Kara’s shoulder and exploding a couch cushion instead.

“—how would you feel about coming to our wedding?”

Lena freezes, flecks of stuffing falling around them like snow.

“Excellent!” Kara chirps. “We'll see you there.”

Dr. Sattler clears her throat. “I don’t think you two have anything to worry about,” she says. “Your communication style is—unique, but obviously effective.”

Kara beams at her as they're leaving, wearing a deeply pleased expression Lena didn’t even think her face was capable of making. “You really should start wearing more comfortable bras,” she says, rolling her shoulders. “Also maybe take up yoga.”

Lena hums. “You’ve never had any complaints before.”

Kara stops and stares at her, aghast. "Is that what I look like when I'm coming on to you?"

Lena grins at her. "Why do you think I'm marrying you?"

Kara giggles.

- - -

This was written for the multi fandom (and original!) flash fiction challenge, using the prompts ‘established relationship’, ‘at a therapist’s office’, ‘body swap’ and ‘an eyepatch’. You should give it a whirl!

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

An (Almost) Unheard Confession

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

genre: soft fluff

requested: yes

el's thoughts: i hope yall like it!! requests are open, so if you have any, feel free to send 'em my way!

bucky masterlist

Bucky and Y/N’s friendship had been forged in the middle of chaos. She had joined the Avengers a couple of years ago—sharp, capable, with a heart too big for her own good. Unlike most people, she had never looked at him with fear or hesitation, never treated him like a walking weapon.

At first, Bucky had kept his distance. He was used to being on the outskirts, keeping people at arm’s length. But Y/N didn’t let that happen. She had a way of worming into people’s lives, into their hearts, without even trying.

She checked in on him without making a big deal about it��making sure he ate after long missions, dragging him into movie nights with the team, and bringing him coffee exactly the way he liked it. She talked to him like he was just Bucky, not the Winter Soldier, not Steve Rogers’ best friend from the 40s—just Bucky.

And somehow, without realizing it, she had become his best friend.

She was the one who could make him chuckle even on the worst days, the one he trusted with the pieces of himself he still didn’t fully understand. She was the one who saw him—not who he used to be, not who the world thought he was, but who he was actively trying to become.

And somewhere along the way, he had fallen for her.

He had tried to push it down, bury it deep where it couldn’t ruin everything. She deserved better than him. Deserved someone who didn’t come with blood on his hands and ghosts in his head. So he stayed silent, stayed in his place as her friend, even when it hurt more than he’d ever admit.

Because having her in his life—no matter what—was worth everything.

~

The compound was quiet. The kind of quiet that settled in after a mission, when exhaustion weighed too heavy on everyone’s bones to do anything but rest.

Bucky sat on the couch, head tipped back against the cushions, muscles aching from the fight earlier. He should get up, take a shower, maybe even crash in his own bed for once. But Y/N had dozed off beside him, legs tucked under her in a way that was bound to cause her slight pain when she woke up, curled up under a blanket, and he hadn’t moved since.

She looked peaceful, her face relaxed in sleep, her breathing steady with her lips parted. A strand of hair had fallen across her cheek, and Bucky had to resist the urge to brush it back. He clenched his metal hand into a fist instead.

He should leave. Should get up before he did something stupid—like say something he couldn’t take back.

But the weight of his feelings pressed against his ribs, suffocating in the silence.

“I don’t know when it happened,” he murmured, keeping his voice low. “Maybe it was always there. I just refused to let myself see it.”

Y/N didn’t stir. Bucky exhaled, he rested his head on the back of the couch and tilted it so his eyes lingered on her peaceful form.

“You take care of everyone, you know that? Always checking in, always making sure I’m eating, sleeping, not losing myself in my own head.” He huffed a whisper of a laugh. “You probably don’t even realize how much you really mean to me.”

His fingers curled against his thigh. He’d faced enemies, and fought battles most people couldn’t even imagine, but this—this was terrifying.

“I care about you, Y/N. More than I should. More than I know how to handle.” His voice was barely above a whisper now. He finally brought his hand up to tuck her hair behind her ear, his cold metal finger dragging across her soft, warm cheek. “But I don’t wanna mess this up. I’d rather have you as my friend than risk losing you completely. But I’ve fallen for you, Y/N. I’m–what did Parker call me?” he muttered to himself. “Down bad. I’m down bad, Y/N. I love you.”

He swallowed, his chest tightening.

“Guess it’s easier to say this when you’re asleep, huh?”

Silence.

Bucky let out a slow breath, shaking his head at himself. He should really get up, and put some space between them before—

“Bucky…”

His entire body went rigid.

Y/N’s voice was groggy, quiet, but there was something else in it too—something careful, something knowing. She lazily reached out and laced their fingers together, the metal bringing her comfort against her hand. She moved closer and softly laid her head on his shoulder.

“I love you too.”

His heart slammed against his ribs.

She had heard everything.

Bucky froze, barely breathing, as Y/N's words settled into his chest.

She loved him too.

For a moment, all he could do was stare down at their intertwined fingers, at the way she had instinctively sought out his touch like it was the most natural thing in the world. He had spent so long convincing himself that his feelings were one-sided, that loving her was something he had to keep buried. But here she was, curling closer, her heartbeat steady against his arm, as if loving him had never been a question.

A shaky breath left his lips.

“You—” He swallowed, shaking his head with a quiet, disbelieving laugh. “You heard all of that?”

Y/N hummed against his shoulder, her voice laced with exhaustion but warm with amusement. “Mhm. Every word.”

Bucky groaned, tipping his head back against the couch. “Great. So you heard me say I was ‘down bad’ too.”

She chuckled, squeezing his fingers. “Oh, definitely. That was my favorite part.”

He glanced down at her, and for the first time in a long, long time, he didn’t feel like running from what he wanted. She was right here, looking up at him with tired, fond eyes, no hesitation, no second-guessing.

Bucky let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “I really love you, Y/N.”

Her smile softened, and she shifted, pressing a gentle kiss against his shoulder. “Good,” she murmured. “Because I really love you too.”

He exhaled and the tension in his chest unraveled, replaced with something lighter, something hopeful. Slowly, carefully, he lifted their joined hands and pressed a lingering kiss to the back of hers, letting himself savor the warmth of her skin against his lips as he closed his eyes in contentment.

Y/N sighed blissfully, her grip on him tightening as she settled against him once more. “Can we talk more about this in the morning? ‘Cause I really just wanna fall asleep right here.”

Bucky chuckled, wrapping an arm around her, holding her close. “Yeah, doll. We can talk in the morning.”

And for the first time in years, tomorrow didn’t seem so scary—it felt like the start of something good.

[disruptive-starlight]

Unspoken Rules

I saw one (1) tiktok about “the hat rule” and it has done irreparable damage to my fic writing lol

This is a Caleb x MC story written in second person

Enjoy :)

“I can’t believe you were able to get clearance to give me a tour of the base!” 

“Being a colonel has its perks, y’know.” 

The two of you are standing outside the entrance, hand in hand. 

“By the way, come here for a sec.” 

You raise your eyebrow, confused, but do as he says. Caleb reaches for his hat, removing it from his own head before plopping it onto yours. 

“What was that for?” 

“I just don’t want you to feel left out, since everyone else will be in uniform.” 

You don’t quite believe that, but you drop the issue, not wanting to start anything before your actual date begins. After all, you steal Caleb’s clothes all the time. Why's wearing his hat any different? 

The two of you spend your day walking through the base, Caleb taking the time to show you all his favorite spots. With all your teasing and laughing, you end up missing the strange looks many of the officers are giving you throughout the day. 

Caleb doesn’t. 

From jealous to encouraging, Caleb catches them all as he does his best to make sure you don’t notice. He knows how these men could be, and he needed them to know you were his in every sense of the word. Just one of them thinking it was a good idea to approach you just wouldn’t do. 

Most of the tour goes without a hitch, and the two of you bump into Gideon just as you’re about to leave. 

“Hey guys!” 

He smiles as he approaches, clapping Caleb on the back before greeting you. 

“Hey, Gideon! What’re you up to?” you ask politely, and the two of you chat for a bit before he turns to Caleb with a teasing grin on his face. 

“You just had to go and stake your claim, huh?” 

Caleb wants to slap him so bad.

He tries to respond but you beat him to it. 

“What do you mean ‘stake his claim’?” 

Gideon immediately realizes his mistake, even before the glare Caleb shoots his way. 

“Oh, uh, just that he walked around base with you all day. No other reason.”

The poor guy hightails it out of there, already preparing for the talking to Caleb’s bound to give him next time they see each other. 

As Gideon leaves, you turn your attention to Caleb. You swear you can see him sweat under your gaze. 

“What was he talking about?”

“Like he sai–”

“Don’t give me that crap.” You stare him down as he tries and fails to avoid your eyes. “Tell me what he really meant.” 

He sighs. 

“Have you ever heard of the hat rule?” 

You weren’t expecting that. 

“The what?”

“The hat rule.” He sighs again, eyes looking anywhere but at you. “It’s technically a cowboy thing, but many of the Fleet officers follow it too.” 

“Cowboy? What do you– wait. You mean that hat rule?!” 

“...yeah” 

“That’s why you put your hat on me this morning?!” 

“...yes.” 

You sigh, your face in your palm as you take this in. Caleb waits, nervousness evident on his face. 

After a moment you start to laugh, and Caleb can’t decide if he should join in or run for his life. 

“You know what, fine.”

Caleb lets out the breath he’s holding just before the devilish grin takes hold of your face. 

“But you need to wear mine when I show you around the Association.” 

Mouth agape, he tries to protest but ultimately decides against it. He lowers his head in defeat. 

“...fine. As long as it makes you happy.” 

You smile at him, confirming his words. 

“Now c’mon.” You grab his wrist, signalling him to follow you.

“Where are we going?”

“We have to follow the rules, right?” 

You don’t miss the grin that lights up his face. 

“Of course.” 

[smallestapplin]

It's me, hi again.

I am still a lovestruck fool for your transformers stories. ESPECIALLY THE SMUT ONES AWOOOO

Can I kindly request a Drifr x Reader +18 :3

I believe that, whenever Drift interfaces with the human reader, he'd go for the eating out session

Like swerve, he is WHIPPED

Thank you qwq, I’m also sorry this took so long but I hope this is too your liking! I’m down bad for equally down bad bots.

Warnings : afab gn!reader, oral fem receiving.

Mdni! Adults only please!

-

-

Drift prides himself on being level headed, to be the calm this ship of chaos needs, but even he can’t help himself but to indulge in his vice, you. Your human valve is this most addicting thing his glossa has ever crossed, he needs more, wants more, it’s never enough he can’t take it.

He’s shaking before he’s even helm first into your pussy. Mentally thanking Primus for allowing him the honor to have such a meal before him. The sound of your chuckle snaps him of his thoughts, glancing up your bare form to see your face, your hand covering your mouth as you ty to hold back your laughter.

You’ve been intimate with Drift long enough to know how ravenous he is over your wet heat, as if he’s never tasted anything so good before.

“Sorry…sorry I just..” he trails off, optics dipping back to your weeping slit. His servos move to your legs placing them over his shoulders, allowing him a perfect view of your organic valve.

He brings his thumbs to your labia, gently pulling them apart to see your cute hole twitching and clenching around nothing, optics flickering to your node and back to your hole. Between your legs, his favorite place to be.

“Drift, please don’t make me wait anymore.”

He trembles at the sound of your whiny voice pleading so sweetly at him to give you what you want, and he’s more than happy to. He kisses your inner thigh, as if to apologize for making you wait.

“Sorry, my spark, you are just too beautiful I can’t help but admire you beneath me like this.” He ex-vents, his engines at a low rumble as he tries to hard to control himself.

He wants to savor you more than anything, balancing work and rest being an eternal struggle, his time to lavish you in his adoring touches are few and far between, he wants to indulge in his desires, to make you feel good to savor all your sounds, taste, and reactions.

But Primus above he wants to ravish you, mark you, push his glossa deep into your needy hole and drink you right from the sorce, everyday it is a struggle to not fall before you and beg once more.

He doesn’t keep you waiting any longer, placing a wet kiss to your needy clit. Purring as you shakily sigh, leaning back against the pillows and blankets you previously set up on his berth. You look ethereal to him, your naked body twitching frm your ever growing pleasure, sweat sticking to your skin giving you a heavenly glow in the lights of his optics and low light of his habsuite.

Your thighs tremble feeling the vibrations of his revving engine on his glossa, which he slowly moves in slow circles around your pulsing nub before dragging it down to your leaking hole, lapping up any spilling slick and right back up.

“Drift….mm..!” You place your hands on top of his helm, tenderly rubbing across his metal to attempt to cling to him.

He could stay here for hours, lay with his helm right here, glossa licking you cling just for you to spill across it all over again with each lazy lap of his tongue. His hips bucking into the berth below him, the musky smell of your scent, the savory taste of your juices, the warm feeling of your thighs pressing to his cheeks and hands n his helm, all of it is overwhelming his senses.

A mix of his spit and your slick slide down his chin, yet he pays it no mind, focused on you and your messy pussy. Gentle climaxes slowly turning more and more intense the more sensitive you grow, yet the desperate bot doesn’t stop, he’s not even sure if he can. Your sobs and cries make his spike throb and valve weep, needing just a little more and he can cum, just a little more-

It’s not enough, it’s never enough, his addicting little love.

[chimielie]

hockey player!iwaizumi x f!reader, tooth-rotting fluff, like sweeter than cotton candy, slight injury

When Hajime lost his tooth, he hated it.

He’d always privately had a little bit of a complex about his looks. Growing up best friends with Oikawa made it hard not to compare their looks and come up lacking. He tried not to let it get to him, never verbalized it to anyone, knew that he was still fine. Just nothing special.

They both grow up playing hockey—at least he can beat up Oikawa on the ice (and they always laugh about it off of it). Oikawa goes pro, right out of high school, and Hajime spends a little time dicking around playing college hockey in America before he gets drafted.

He had met you at the bars after a game; his first win after being traded to the team Oikawa’s played for for a couple years now.

The memory is clear: It’s great to be back together, but he feels some trepidation in the car the guys rented, some childish part of him reticent about the idea of going out and watching chicks swarm his best friend, just like their teen years.

He doesn’t even really have time to think about that once they’re in, though, because he, the newbie, gets sent up to order. While he’s waiting for the bartender to pour them the first round of shots, you tap him on the shoulder, touch so soft he barely feels it after getting pummeled on the ice. His right shoulder is tender because he’d slammed hard into the railing right after stealing the puck from Ushijima, sending to Tooru, who had pushed it neatly into the net. An assist on the first goal of the night, and he’d gotten a goal in himself by the third period too.

It twinges as he turns to face you, a clear question written all over his face. It’s not like he’s totally oblivious, like he’s never been flirted with. It just somehow always surprises him still.

“You’re fine,” you declare, already a little tipsy, your cheeks warming as he observes you in your night out outfit. He doesn’t notice a single other girl, talking to Oikawa or not, the whole night.

The next morning, you repeat it to him, curled up against his naked chest, eyes unclouded by drink but your words just as genuine.

It was the first time he’d ever thought of being fine as a good thing.

So when the tooth, his right front one, comes out, cracked by a hard high stick to the face, he almost doesn’t want to come home after the game. It probably doesn’t make sense to get it replaced completely—injuries like this are common in his line of work, and it’ll be a hell of a lot more trouble to keep replacing fakes. He opts for a partial denture, something he can take out during games, but the mold takes twenty-four hours to cure.

You attend as many of his games as you can, but he’d insisted that you head home on your own while the doctors checked him out. You’d ceded only on the condition that you’d have dinner waiting when he got back, something soft and good at room temperature so he wouldn’t aggravate the nerves.

He frowns when you see him, crossing the room and hovering your hands over his swollen cheeks and telling him how worried you’d been, how happy you are he’s okay.

“When’s it gonna be technically healed?” You ask, and his heart clenches.

“It’ll probably be sensitive for a few more days, but they’ll have a coverup ready by tomorrow,” he says. Before he can crack a joke like so you don’t have to look at this ugly mug too long, you’re looking at him with a contemplative expression, one he doesn’t know how to read.

“So… will it hurt if I kiss you?” You want to know. “I feel so bad, ‘cause it must have sucked, but you look so cute like this.”

His heart drops straight through the pit of his stomach in relief.

“Yeah, baby, it’ll be fine… Ow! Ow! Okay, little gentler.”

Still, he wears the flipper as often as he can once he gets it. He doesn’t like the way it looks, the gap, he reasons. Just because you say you do doesn’t mean he’s okay with showing up to functions looking even more like a scrub to your perfect ten. And yeah, he’d think you were beautiful with a paper sack over your head, but it’s just different.

He can hear you whispering before he even walks into the kitchen. You beam up at him, as beautiful as that night in the bar, and his face breaks out into a smile before he even registers it.

“Do you wanna…” you nudge your daughter, and she turns to him, smile just as bright as yours. His heart stops.

There’s a big gap in that smile, the right front tooth missing.

“Look, Daddy!” He catches her up in a big hug, hefting her up so he can inspect her face closely. “Now we match!”

It’s all crashing down on him. He’s bubbling up with it, the fizzy feeling you’d given him in the bar, the tears as he vowed until death do us part, the softness as he’d cradled her in his arms for the first time. You stand, leaning your head on his shoulder as your daughter tells him all about the loss of her first tooth, about the importance of being the first in her class to lose one.

“You’re so brave, kiddo.” He kisses her head. “Makes you even cuter. Want some yogurt?”

[kaxserlvr]

HEYYYY

So i see request are open

So i wanted to ask if it would be alr if i requested Rin with figure skater girlfriend?

Thanks in advance!!

AND I HOPE YOU HAVE WONDERFUL DAYYYY<3

A/n:Ahhh thank you and you too!! I don’t know much about figure skating so I hope this suffices :D

Rin didn’t care much for figure skating.

It was too delicate, too flashy—too different from the world of football, where everything was about precision, power, and control. The idea of gliding across ice in flashy outfits and choreographed movements never appealed to him.

But then he met you.

And suddenly, he found himself sitting in an ice rink, after his practice, watching every move you made like his life depended on it.

You were in the middle of your routine, moving effortlessly across the ice, your skates cutting through it with sharp precision. The arena lights cast a glow on you, making you look almost unreal, like something out of a dream.

Rin’s grip tightened on the railing as he watched.

He had seen you practice a hundred times before, knew every twist and turn you would make, but it still managed to take his breath away. You moved with an elegance that didn’t belong in his world—fluid, weightless, like you weren’t bound by gravity at all.

When you landed your final jump flawlessly, the music came to a soft end, and your coach and other skaters applauded for you. Rin didn’t react outwardly, but his heart swelled with something he refused to name.

You skated off the ice, slightly breathless but beaming. The moment you spotted him, your eyes lit up.

“Well?” You asked, stopping in front of him. “Did you like it?”

Rin crossed his arms, feigning indifference. “It was alright.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re such a liar.”

His lips twitched slightly.

You pulled off your gloves, flexing your fingers as you looked up at him. “You know, for someone who claims not to care about skating, you sure show up to every one of my practices.”

Rin scoffed. “Someone has to make sure you don’t fall on your face.”

You smirked. “That,” you said, poking his chest, “sounds like an excuse.”

Rin exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You talk too much.”

You grinned. “And you don’t talk enough.”

There was a pause, a quiet moment where neither of them said anything.

Then, Rin reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered for just a second too long, and you felt your breath hitch.

“…You were amazing,” he finally admitted, his voice softer.

Your heart skipped a beat.

You had heard a million compliments before, from coaches, from fans—but none of them ever made you feel like this. Nothing could compare when it came to him.

You smiled, stepping closer. “You know…” you mused, tilting your head. “You’d make a good skater.”

Rin scoffed. “Not happening.”

You laughed. “Come on, you already have the balance for it. Just imagine—Rin Itoshi, the footballer-turned-figure-skater.”

He shot you a deadpan look. “I’d rather die.”

You giggled, reaching for his hands. “At least try skating with me.”

Rin sighed, giving in far too easily. “Fine. But if I fall, I’m dragging you down with me.” He’d agree to anything you ask

You grinned. “Deal.”

And as you pulled him toward the ice, Rin found himself thinking—maybe figure skating wasn’t so bad after all.

As long as it’s with you of course

[weneeya]

worried m.list | rules

pairing. jason todd x reader

note. omg i love jason sm of course i'd do that ; worried jason is adorable, my boy is doing his best <3

You were supposed to be here. He left you alone in your apartment before he left for his night patrol. So why weren’t you here anymore? Where were you? Jason thought he was about to go crazy. He was searching everywhere, calling your phone, but you weren’t answering at all.

Yes, he came back earlier than usual, but it was a reason to disappear, was it? What if something bad had happened while he was gone? Jason was making the worst scenarios in his head. Until he heard the sound of the door opening. He turned around and you arrived in the living room, a bit surprised. 

You didn’t have the time to say anything that Jason was standing in front of you, a visible frown across his eyebrows. “Where the hell were you?!” His voice was too loud, too angry ; you didn’t like that at all. You slowly raised an eyebrow at his tone, feeling the slight irritation growing inside of you. 

“My friend needed me, so I left to see her.” You explained but it didn’t calm Jason at all. “You know Gotham’s not safe at night. What if you got attacked, or worse?” He was clearly angry, but it simply made you angry too. You weren’t a child, you didn’t need him to act like he was your own father. 

“Quit yelling at me, would ya?” Your tone was harsh, and it caught him off guard. He wasn’t so used to any reaction like this from you, so he was taken aback. He was about to answer when you pointed at his chest, looking into his eyes. “I don’t need you to protect myself, Jason. I’m a grown adult!” And in those words, you left the living room to get locked up in the bathroom. You really needed a shower. 

Jason stayed alone in here, standing up and a bit lost about what just happened. Did he get too far? He knew you were strong enough to defend yourself ; he loved you for that. But he couldn’t help it ; he was always worried when he knew you were alone in the streets at night. He meant what he said: Gotham wasn’t safe at all, and he knew what he was talking about. 

He saw so many people get hurt without any reason, and he was just so scared to lose you. Anger was his only way to express those feelings, but making you mad was the last thing he ever wanted. So he sat on the couch and waited for you to get out of the bathroom. It took you long minutes, and he was almost falling asleep. Or at least, he would have if he wasn’t thinking so much about what he wanted to tell you. 

When you joined the living room again, your gaze met his figure and you rolled your eyes. You sat next to him in silence, hating this stupid sad look on his face. You hated to see it, but he needed to understand what was wrong. Jason took your hand softly in his. “Look at me, please… I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean to react like this.” You turned around, meeting his eyes ; and he knew he wasn’t lying. There was too much sincerity in it for that ; you knew him by heart. 

You stayed silent, waiting for him to keep going for a moment. He breathed out softly, leaving a gentle kiss against your knuckles. “I was just… worried. I’m always so scared when you’re alone out there. I know you’re strong ; but those guys can be crazy.” And how could you blame him? You knew Jason got through hell because of one of them. You finally completely turned to face him, grabbing both his hands between yours. 

“I’m not angry because you’re worried. I am because you yelled at me like I was completely dumb and not careful.” He slowly nodded at your words, understanding that he didn’t react the way he should have. Your hand gently moved to his cheek so you could stroke it with your thumb so slightly. Jason leaned onto your touch, eyes now closed at the feeling. 

You felt like home for him, and he’d rather die than having to lose this feeling once more. He left a soft kiss against the palm of your hand, making you smile lightly. “I’d be careful with my reactions,” he told you, looking back at your eyes. You leaned forward a little, leaving a small peck against his lips. “And I won’t leave without telling you where I am.” 

A silent agreement, so things could work. Jason was making so many efforts for you, all the time ; the less you could do was to do some efforts too. Moreover, Jason was clearly worth it. The boy needed a comfort and safe place to calm his home ; and you were ready to be this for him.

thank you for reading!

[inseobts]

Green Rival

zoro x fem!reader + yonji x fem!reader

you all meet sanji's brothers again after wci and that's how your boyfriend zoro finds out you have another green haired suitor

words count: 3.2k

tags: sanji's annoying brothers, jealousy, romance, soft

masterlist || ko-fi

The day had started so well. The sea was calm, the weather was nice, and for once, nobody was trying to kill you.

But of course, peace never lasts when you’re with the Strawhats.

“Land ahead!” Luffy shouts from the crow’s nest.

Everyone gathers on deck, watching as a small island comes into view. Nami, ever the responsible one, is already squinting at her map.

“This island wasn’t on the log pose…” she mutters.

Sanji, who had been flipping a pan of eggs in the kitchen just moments ago, suddenly freezes mid-step. His cigarette nearly falls out of his mouth.

“Oi, what’s wrong with you weirdo?” Zoro asks, raising an eyebrow at Sanji’s weird reaction.

Sanji, looking like he just saw a ghost, grits his teeth “I have a very bad feeling about this...”

The moment you all step onto the island, it becomes very clear why.

Standing in the middle of a clearing, looking just as shocked as you all feel, are none other than Judge and the Vinsmoke brothers, aka Ichiji, Niji, and Yonji.

The silence is actually painful.

“…Well. This is awkward...” Nami says, breaking the tense atmosphere.

Judge just glares at Sanji like the disappointing science experiment gone wrong he thinks his son is. Sanji’s face twists in anger, and you’re already bracing for a fight...

... at least until Yonji (the green one btw) suddenly grins and rushes toward you.

“Y/N!!!!!”

Oh no.

Yonji practically sparkles as he walks up, chest puffed out like he’s the main event “It’s been way too long, gorgeous”

You resist the urge to groan. You knew this would happen. You knew the second he saw you, he’d start this nonsense again.

Zoro, however, was not expecting this at all.

“…What the...?”

Before you can even react, Yonji swoops down, takes your hand and kisses it, and then he winks “I never forgot about you, you know.”

Zoro’s eye twitches. Twice.

Franky watches with interest “Whoa. What’s happening?”

Chopper blinks “That guy is still flirting?”

Brook chuckles “Oh my, how bold!”

Nami, looking far too entertained, smirks at you “I forgot about this little detail from Whole Cake Island. The green one had a thing for you, huh?”

Zoro is still frozen. Processing. Trying to understand why this is a thing that exists in HIS world.

You, on the other hand, yank your hand back before Yonji can do something stupid... again “Yonji. No.”

Yonji gasps dramatically, clutching his chest “You wound me, y/n! After all the time we spent together in Whole Cake Island...”

“You mean the time you spent getting punched in the face?” Sanji interrupts, rubbing his temples like this is giving him an actual migraine.

Yonji waves him off “That's how we flirt...” He turns back to you, flashing what he clearly thinks is a charming smile “But I see you’ve still got that spark! You know, you don’t have to stay with your boyfriend... what was even his name? Or did you break up with him to be with me finally???”

Zoro finally snaps out of it “EXCUSE ME?!”

“Oh, so YOU are the competition...” Yonji muses, looking Zoro up and down with a disgusted face “Huh. I gotta say, y/n, you’ve got an interesting taste. He’s got the whole ‘grumpy ronin’ thing going on. You into that??”

Luffy perks up “Oh yeah, she’s totally into that...”

Nami grins “Yup, definitely her type.”

Chopper nods enthusiastically “Yeah, she likes grumpy, swordy guys.”

Brook laughs “Ahh, young love~”

Zoro, who had been slowly turning redder throughout this conversation, finally explodes “SHUT THE HELL UP, ALL OF YOU!!”

Yonji smirks “Touchy, huh? You sure he treats you right, y/n? Maybe you should consider a man who can actually handle you.”

Zoro immediately reaches for his swords “That’s it. I’m killing him. Now.”

You physically have to grab Zoro’s arm to stop him from committing actual murder “Zoro, breathe... Breathe.”

Yonji just smirks wider “See? He’s too hot-headed for you. A real man stays cool and confident. Just like me.”

Sanji, who has been suffering through this entire thing, finally loses it “OH FOR GOD’S SAKE, YONJI! Y/N WOULD RATHER DIE THAN GO ANYWHERE WITH OR NEAR YOU!”

Yonji sighs, placing a hand over his heart “You guys are so mean to me.”

Luffy laughs “This guy is kinda funny!”

Sanji lights up a new cigarette “Do not encourage him.”

Zoro glares at Luffy “Which side are you on?”

Brook hums “Although… now that I look at you two…”

You blink “What?”

Brook tilts his head “Yonji and Zoro… they do look kind of similar, don’t they?”

Everyone pauses.

You turn to look at Yonji. Then back at Zoro.

Oh my god.

The green hair. The sharp features. The stupidly stubborn expressions.

You gasp “Oh my god.”

Zoro frowns “What?”

You grin “Zoro… he... he kinda looks like you...”

Zoro’s eye twitches “NO HE DOESN’T.”

Usopp laughs and then he turns to the rest of the crew, so that everyone except for you, sanji and zoro could hear “He actually looks as if Zoro and Sanji had a son”

Everyone starts laughing, trying to hide from you and you look at them confused before Yonji steps in “Huh. Now that you all mention it… I am kinda like a better-looking version of him, aren’t I?”

Zoro draws his swords immediately.

“I WILL END YOU.”

The crew absolutely loses it. Luffy is on the floor wheezing, Nami is wiping tears from her eyes, and Sanji, for the first time in his life, actually agrees with Zoro about murdering someone.

You, meanwhile, just smirk and pat Zoro’s arm “Don’t worry. You’re the only green-haired idiot for me.”

Zoro grumbles, but you can see the tips of his ears turning pink “…Good.”

Yonji just sighs dramatically “Ah, well. Guess I’ll have to try again next time.”

Before anyone can react, he casually leans against a tree, arms crossed “Anyway, what brings you all here? Came to visit me?”

Zoro glares “Like hell we would.”

Yonji smirks “Deny it all you want, y/n clearly missed me.”

You see the change in Zoro’s demeanor almost immediately. His grip on his swords tightens. His brows furrow deeper, and you can practically hear the low growl in his throat. There’s something almost dangerous in the way he’s glaring at Yonji now.

Zoro, no longer content to just grumble, takes a step toward you, his eyes still locked on Yonji “You seriously don’t find this guy annoying?”

You blink, surprised by the sudden shift in his tone towords you “What? Yonji?”

Zoro’s eye twitches “Yeah, Yonji. That guy. You know, the one who can’t seem to keep his hands to himself—”

“Oh, come on, Zoro! I’m not interested in him” you interject, but it’s too late. Zoro’s already fuming. He crosses his arms, looking like he might set something on fire if his glare gets any more intense.

You sigh, giving him an exasperated look “I literally just told you, he’s annoying, okay? Does that make you happy?”

He doesn’t answer right away, just glares some more, while Yonji seems to be enjoying the show. You can’t help but notice how Zoro’s getting even more upset by the second. It’s like watching a kettle about to boil over.

“You don't have to say things you don't think just to make me happy and I swear, if I see him wink at you one more time…” Zoro mutters to himself, barely holding it together.

Nami, who’s been snickering in the background, calls out “Zoro, calm down! We’ve got bigger things to deal with than this drama.”

Luffy, ever the troublemaker, raises an eyebrow and says “Yeah, Zoro, you’re acting all jealous!”

Zoro shoots them both a deadly glare, making them immediately stop. But you can tell they all are having way too much fun with this.

You’re starting to feel like you might actually be caught in the middle of some absurd love triangle, and that’s definitely not what you signed up for today.

“Okay, enough with the staring contest,” you say, rolling your eyes, “Zoro, stop. You're acting like an idiot.”

Zoro huffs, still refusing to look at you “I’m not the idiot here and I'm not jealous,” he says through clenched teeth “I just don’t like the guy.”

“Sure, sure, Zoro,” you tease, walking up to him and nudging him with your shoulder “You really don’t like him, huh?”

Zoro shifts uncomfortably, clearly still not ready to admit anything. His eye twitches as he stares out into the distance, and you can see the muscles in his jaw working overtime today “Yeah. I really don’t like him, so what? Don't treat me like a kid...”

You smile softly at him “Don't pay him this much attention, he's just trying his best but it's useless anyway. And I have to admit, your jealousy is a bit cute” you say trying to make him relax about the situation, but this actually worsen everything but you realise it only later.

In fact, Zoro’s posture stiffens, and his fists ball at his sides. He finally turns his head, his gaze sharp and cold as he looks at you. For a moment, the tension between you both is thick enough to cut with a sword.

And then, without any warning, he growls “If you like him so much, why don’t you go with him then?”

You stare at Zoro in disbelief. The words hit you harder than you expected, and your heart does a little lurch in your chest. Your eyes narrow as you cross your arms, trying to keep your cool “What did you just say?”

Zoro shifts uncomfortably, clearly not ready for the words to come out like that, but his pride won’t let him backtrack. He looks away, then mutters “I said if you like him so much, go with him, then.”

Your mouth falls open, the shock of his words giving way to a flush of anger “Excuse me?” You take a step toward him, shaking your head in disbelief “What the hell is that supposed to mean? You really think I want to go off with him??”

Zoro stays silent, a vein popping in his temple as he looks anywhere but at you. His posture is stiff, like he’s forcing himself not to turn and walk away.

You continue, voice rising with frustration “You’re really THIS MUCH jealous of Yonji? Really?”

Zoro’s eye twitches “Stop saying that... I already said it, I’m not jealous” he says flatly, but you can see his hands balling into fists at his sides.

"Yeah? So I’m the problem, huh?" You take another step forward, chest puffed with frustration.

Before Zoro can retort, a voice interrupts, smooth, smooth as ever.

“You know, y/n,” Yonji says, stepping forward with a dramatic flourish “if you need someone who understands you, I’m here. I always was.”

You let out an exasperated groan, rolling your eyes so hard you nearly hurt yourself "Oh my god, Yonji, please stop now. I told you—"

Before you can even finish, Yonji is already presenting you with a ridiculous bouquet of flowers, smirking “You’ve always had such exquisite taste. I’m sure these would look beautiful on you.”

Zoro’s eye twitches again, his patience hanging by a thread “Are you seriously still doing this, you idiot? Can't you read the room?”

But Yonji doesn’t seem to care. He’s too busy smirking at you, eyes glinting as he presents the flowers like they’re the most precious thing in the world “You’re much too beautiful to settle for someone who can’t even get his words right to you” Yonji says smoothly, his voice dripping with faux sincerity.

This does not help.

You feel your patience starting to snap "Oh my God, Yonji!" you exclaim, throwing your hands up in the air “Seriously? Stop trying to give me flowers in the middle of this!” You take a deep breath and turn back to Zoro, who still looks like a bundle of rage and frustration.

He’s glaring at Yonji now, his jaw clenched and his body coiled like a spring, ready to snap. The silence that hangs between you all is thick with tension.

“I just want the best for you darling, and that's me, I'm clearly the best option”

And then, just like this the tension breaks.

Zoro suddenly yells, his voice booming with pure fury “I’LL KILL YOU, YOU DAMNED PEST!!”

The entire crew jumps in shock. You quickly turn to Zoro, trying to calm him down before the situation gets any worse “Zoro, please, calm down—”

But Zoro is already stalking toward Yonji, his swords drawn, every inch of him radiating the kind of anger you’re well acquainted with. You’re not sure whether to laugh or cry, but you definitely don’t want him making this worse.

“Zoro, stop!” you shout, rushing toward him and grabbing his arm before he can do anything rash "You’re acting like an idiot! Just let it go, please!”

For a moment, Zoro just stands there, muscles tense under your grip, his breathing ragged. His glare stays locked on Yonji, but he’s clearly fighting himself, trying to hold back.

Yonji, who’s been far too entertained by this entire scene, steps back with an exaggerated sigh “Ah, you two. Such passion,” he says, still holding out the bouquet like it’s a peace offering “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re both jealous. What’s the matter? Not enough room for two men in y/n’s life?”

Zoro’s eye twitches again. You, meanwhile, feel a headache coming on “Yonji, this is not helping!”

And that’s when it happens.

Zoro glances at you, eyes still sharp, but now there’s a hint of... something else? His voice drops low, almost like he’s growling under his breath “I don’t like anyone who gets in the way of what’s mine...” he says, and you freeze.

Wait, what did he just say?

Before you can process, Zoro turns around with a grumble “Whatever. I don’t have time to argue with you. We’re wasting time.”

You can’t help but laugh at his stubbornness. It’s adorable in its own way, and you finally decide to make it stop once and for all.

You take a step forward, pulling Zoro gently by the arm to face you. He looks down at you, eyes still a little tense, and you put your hands on his chest “Zoro,” you say with a soft smile “You're the only one I care about, okay?”

He freezes for a moment, as if trying to process your words. His expression softens, just a bit.

“You’re mine, huh?” you tease with a playful grin, mimicking his voice.

Zoro’s face goes a little pink, but he quickly brushes it off with a muttered, “Shut up.”

You laugh softly, finally stepping into his space, wrapping your arms around his waist “You’re such a dork,” you say affectionately, resting your head against his chest “But you’re my dork.”

He sighs, but this time, it’s not out of irritation. He relaxes, his arms wrapping around you “Yeah, yeah… don’t go getting all soft on me now.”

You pull back just a little, eyes gleaming with mischief “I could get really soft on you, you know.”

Zoro raises an eyebrow, then smirks “Not in front of everyone.”

At that, you both glance over at the rest of the crew, who are all staring at you two, wide-eyed, waiting for the next dramatic turn.

“You guys are all so immature” you groan, making Zoro chuckle as you try to hide burying your face into his chest.

“Well, someone had to tell that weirdo green Sanji who’s the boss” Zoro mutters, a soft smirk still on his face.

You laugh softly, finally feeling the calm after the storm of jealousy pass between the two of you. At least for now, anyway.

“And just for the record,” you add, “I’m not breaking up with you anytime soon, no matter how annoying Yonji gets.”

Zoro grumbles, but you catch the small, satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he pulls you closer, ignoring the rest of the crew's teasing.

“Good” he says, settling into you.

The tension finally starts to dissipate. Yonji, seeing that his attempts at flirting have officially failed, grumbles to himself and starts wandering off “Whatever. You guys are no fun.” He gives one last exaggerated sigh, throwing his hands up, and disappears into the woods. Where the rest of his family left minutes ago without saying a word.

Franky, trying to lighten the mood, claps Zoro on the back, nearly knocking him off balance “Damn, Zoro, you’re really serious about her, huh?”

Zoro barely acknowledges him, still standing rigid, his arms crossed tightly. The rest of the crew, including Sanji, are chuckling or whispering among themselves, all far too entertained by the scene that just unfolded.

You take a deep breath, rubbing your forehead in exasperation “I swear, you guys are all impossible…”

Luffy grins, completely oblivious to the tension, and waves at you both “Alright! Let’s go, guys! We’re leaving! On to the next adventure!”

Nami and Chopper follow Luffy, not bothering to look back, still snickering. Brook gives a little laugh as he walks past, his bony fingers strumming a tune on his invisible guitar.

Sanji, still puffing on a cigarette, shoots you both a knowing glance before he follows after the rest of the crew “Don’t think I like you now just because I hate my brother more” he says with a wink.

Zoro grumbles something under his breath, but you can tell he’s starting to cool off. He turns his back to you and walks a few steps toward the ship, but then pauses.

You watch him for a moment, the way his broad shoulders relax as the weight of the situation begins to lift. When he’s not looking, you smile to yourself and quietly walk up behind him.

Without thinking too much about it, you quickly step forward, your heart racing a little. Before Zoro can turn around, you give him a quick kiss.

Zoro freezes, his body stiffening for a moment, and you quickly pull back, your heart pounding in your chest. For just a second, there’s a silence. The world seems to stop moving, and you hold your breath, wondering if you’ve done something ridiculous.

Zoro slowly turns his head, his face flushed, and he looks at you in surprise. But then he just grins, his usual smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Is that your way of saying you’re not mad at me anymore?” he asks, his voice gruff but softer than before.

You laugh softly, not sure if you’re nervous or happy or both “Maybe,” you say, shrugging “But don’t let it get to your head. You’re still a pain in the ass.”

Zoro’s grin widens “I’ll take that as a win.”

With that, he turns back toward the ship, walking a bit slower now, as if he’s giving you a chance to catch up. You follow behind, a contented smile on your face, and you know that despite everything, all it's going to be okay.

And as you board the ship, side by side, you can’t help but feel a little lighter. Maybe this is how things were always meant to be.

[wrathofrats]

@divine-misfortune wanted Swissdew fluff. So have like 600 words of dew helping Swiss through a bad migraine because they’re both stupid and also the best friends ever <3

“Cirrus is bitching that you’re not downstairs yet, are you coming or not?” Dew pounded on Swiss’ hotel door. Probably loud enough to warrant a noise complaint but it wouldn’t be his first, or last. Swiss didn’t answer anyways. Silence coming from the room besides the sound of the air conditioner when dew put his ear up to the door. He expected the sound of the shower, or maybe him watching videos on his phone while he lost track of time.

“You better at least be dressed” dew slammed his fist against the door one more time, waiting a second before letting himself into Swiss’ hotel room.

The lights were off, cold air filling the room and making dew shiver as he walked in and threw the gas station bag of cheap snacks and pregame drinks onto the carpet. The only sign that Swiss was even there was the lump of blankets in the middle of the bed, locs poking out against the pillows.

“Rise and shine swissy” dew flicked the light switch, white fluorescent light filling the room, “you can sleep when you’re dead, I even got you one of those neon blue cans of whatever you like to drink to getcha started”

“Go without me” the lump mumbled, blankets being pulled higher over his head, “migraine, just turn the lights off when you leave”

Dew quickly flicked the switch again but Swiss didn’t hear the door open or close, just the rustling of a plastic bag and a pin prick of light coming from dews flashlight on his phone. Swiss lifted his head slightly, squinting to watch as dew hastily typed something on his phone and took a bunch of random cans out of the bag before bringing it over to sit on the nightstand.

“Really it’s fine, just go without me, I’ll see you in the morning” Swiss rolled over, giving dew a sad look even with the covers pulled up under his nose.

“Have you eaten since before the show?”

“No I-“

“You’re a dumbass” dew rolled his eyes, fishing out a snack cake and a small bag of combos “you don’t even have any water over here. Have you drank water recently? Actually, I know the answer. Eat”

Swiss slowly shoved bits of the small strawberry cake in his mouth as dew filled one of the small plastic cups with water in the bathroom. It was chemically and beyond too sweet, but the food hitting his stomach took a small edge off. Maybe he did need to eat.

Dew handed the water to him gently, grabbing the empty wrapper and throwing it on the nightstand. Swiss sipped the water with a confused look, handing it back to dew once it was empty.

“Don’t you need to go? Cirrus is going to be upset that you’re late, again” Swiss popped a combo into his mouth.

“Already texted her to go ahead. I’m not just going to leave you like this, you big baby. Scoot over, you’re hogging the blanket”

Swiss inched his way over enough for dew to crawl in beside him, stealing one of the little pretzels from his bag.

“Dew you don’t have to, I’ll be ok I swear”

“It’s already been done, come here, you’re freezing” dew pulled Swiss flush with his chest, one hand carding through his hair to use his fire ghoul magic, the other wrapped around his waist. Dew had done this before, some kind of routine whenever Swiss wasn’t feeling well back home and didn’t have aether to knock him out hard and fast in order to avoid it. Dew didn’t mind though, it was nice to spend the night without any shenanigans.

“Thank you” Swiss mumbled, eyes getting heavy as dews warmth lulled him off to sleep.

“Love you idiot, wish you would’ve asked for help earlier”