#I have a joke to make .but I’m saving it for another post

[sinhasfluffyheadfur]

have a fluffy lad

[honey-tongued-devil]

[Arcane preference]reacting to their s/o calling them husband/wife for the first time

I’ve finished the first chapter of the long fic about Universe 7 (Anytime it rains). As soon as my second beta reader gives me the okay, I’ll post it. While I wait, I’ve written the first headcanon (out of three I’m definitely planning to write and post in the next few days) and picked up the drawing of Steb I’d left unfinished. I’m slow, as usual, but English isn’t my first language, and I’m juggling a lot of things at once. Enjoy!

socials: | INPRNT | | Tip Jar | | X | | BlueSky | | Ao3 | poster: | Jayce poster | | Silco poster | |Silco +self insert poster 1| | Steb poster | if you want to read the fluff longfic with vander and his happy family + Silco x reader you can find it here! ↠ Masterlist

Jayce:

-This man is planning to put a ring on your finger as soon as possible, okay? -Between the academy, public appearances, and both theoretical and practical studies, there isn’t a single moment when he’s really in the right mindset to bring up the topic -The worst part is that, deep down, he’s terrified of putting pressure on you -That’s why, the first time he hears you refer to him as “my husband” during a gala with noble families, he almost chokes -He has to gather all his strength not to grab the interlocutor by the shoulders and ask if they also heard you say that word -He’ll try to keep his composure, maybe responding to your remark with, “Yes, exactly. Her husband really did say/do/design that.”

Viktor:

-It’s not a thought he’s ever really entertained; it never crossed his mind -Part of it is that science is his priority, and part of it is that marriage doesn’t seem like something meant for people like him, -The first time you call him “your husband”, that thought suddenly becomes real in his head, and he can’t help but lean against a wall and wait for the other person to leave -“So, I’m your husband now, huh? Mmm… I don’t mind, a bit pretentious, though…” he jokes, making you roll your eyes -Now, more than ever, he has no idea what to do. He’ll give you a bronze ring from a machine he’s building -“Until I can get one worthy of you.”

Ekko:

-Yes -That’s it -The end -Okay, seriously. The idea of being certain that something will last forever is probably his greatest wish -The first time you call him your husband, he doesn’t see it coming -“Wait, you’re married?” -“I was talking about you, Ekko.” -The moment you say it, he points to his chest, you see his lip tremble slightly, and his eyes grow shinier -He won’t stop talking about it for a week, and at least once a day, he’ll ask if you still want to marry him, if you’re sure, if you love him -No rings before S2; the promise is made by drawing something for each other on your masks and clothes -After S2, he still can’t afford a ring, but now that life is more stable, he can start thinking about a more traditional gift, like a piece of jewelry

Vander:

-This man is ravenous for any family role you might offer him—fiancé, father, husband. Anything goes -The first time you call him “husband”, he plays it cool but will seize the first opportunity to return the favor by telling a customer you’re married -As soon as he can, he’ll squeeze your hand, even under the counter -The idea of being married and having a complete family is everything he’s ever wanted -He won’t stop calling you “my beautiful wife/husband” from that moment on.

-You said it first; you can’t take it back. Now you have to get married

Silco (old man):

-This man’s only sin is loving too much, but I’ll save that reflection for another post -Having no ties other than his illegitimate daughter doesn’t make him someone who’s particularly keen on formalities -The first time you call him “your husband” is in front of Sevika, and he slowly turns to look at you, while she slowly turns to look at him -“Did I... miss something?” Sevika asks, but he doesn’t reply, still perplexed, before glancing at her and saying, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” -He’s relieved but doesn’t show it. He can’t afford to just yet -As soon as he confirms you were serious, your name will be flamboyantly forgotten—he’ll constantly refer to you as “my wife/husband”

Silco (young):

-The man who survives on love -The first time you call him your husband is in front of Vander, and while Vander bursts out laughing, Silco chokes on his drink -“Are you serious?” He’s so happy that his pale iris are completely swallowed by his dilated pupils -He grabs a pen and draws a ring around your finger -To his credit, he works in a mine, so it’s hard to do better than that, but it becomes the goal that keeps him going -Completely focused on family, the future, and anything that sees the two of you together and happy

Steb:

-The first time you call him your husband is at a dinner among enforcer families, and being mute doesn’t stop him from stealing the spotlight -He whips around, blinking slowly with only his third eyelid in a gesture of confusion -When he’s 100% sure he understood what you said, his eyes widen, the small membranes under his eyes flutter madly, and even the barely visible gills near his jaw gasp for a moment -Someone says, “I didn’t know you were married,” and he immediately nods enthusiastically, not giving you time to take it back -Within 48 hours, he’ll have the ring ready

Jinx:

-The first time you call her “your wife”, she freezes -“What did you just call me?” -She’s used to being a little sister, a big sister, a daughter—she’d never thought she could be a wife. Family ties aren’t chosen, but the idea that someone would want her in their life so much they’d marry her feels incredible -“You want to marry me? Really? Why?” -She bursts into tears, and it’ll take at least 24 hours of cuddling in bed to calm her down -After that, she’ll run to her father to announce that she’s now a married woman

Vi:

-She might not be Silco and/or Vander’s blood daughter, but she’s inherited their deep desire for family -From her family’s tragic fate to Vander’s, she’s always seen family as the ultimate aspiration -When you call her “your wife” for the first time, she doesn’t notice right away, but a full minute later, she whirls around to look at you, as if to ask for confirmation -“Say it again.” -“...You need to buy bread?” -“No, all of it.” -“My wife needs to go buy bread.” -“Again.”

-"My... wife?"

-"Again"

Caitlyn:

-Has she thought about it? Yes -Was she planning to act on it? Not exactly -Caitlyn struggles with emotions and feelings, which is why she hesitates and takes her time -But when you first call her “your wife”, her brain completely shuts off—she just stares at you, unable to hear a single word being said -If you or someone else asks her a question, she’ll snap out of it and respond, -“My wife/husband said everything.” Even if it makes no sense as an answer, making you laugh and leaving the other person baffled

Mel:

-Not a single flicker of surprise—the first time you call her “your wife”, she remains completely composed -“So, I’m your wife?” she asks as soon as you’re in private, approaching you like a feline. You can almost hear the purr in her voice -She’s amused but also intrigued by whatever game you’re playing -The idea of marriage is complicated for her—on one hand, it feels like it would limit her freedom to act, while on the other, unresolved family issues seem to devour her at the mere thought of starting a new cycle -She’ll tell you to go ahead, to get married, but she’ll also ask for time -In the meantime, though, she’ll start using the term “husband/wife” with you—she likes the way it rolls off her tongue

Sevika:

-Between the work she does, the environment she lives in, and all the interesting circumstances of her life, marriage has never been on her radar -Not to mention that in Zaun, it’s not exactly a common practice—people just move in together and build families when they can, without much fuss over formalities or bureaucracy -The first time it happens, she’s playing cards with the other goons, and you casually ask if “your wife is winning” -Her first reaction isn’t even hers—it’s the others’. Dustin, the blond goon with the lazy eye, almost starts crying, embarrassing her -Don’t worry, she’ll make you pay for it at home -She won’t ask to formalize anything, but in true Zaunite fashion, she’ll consider you married, plain and simple

[kitty-pelosi]

it is cute to watch USAmericans celebrate Brian Thompson’s assassination (CEO of United Healthcare) but I think it also highlights a certain ignorance and false class consciousness among the country. I’m specifically referencing this smug fixation on the fact that the investors had their meeting without him anyway and that they posted his job online already, and how there is this sort of smug “hahaha they don’t care about you either!” ouroboros-esque consumed-by-your-own-labyrinth attitude of righteous self-satisfaction and I feel like the point is going over people’s head.

No CEO of a publicly traded company really thinks they are that important, and it is extremely obvious to them how replaceable and at the mercy of the shareholders and board of directors they are. actually, it is this structure and system that guarantees the most ruthless profiteers to become CEOs, because the owner class of the company has made being a ruthless profiteer part of the job description because CEOs have a fiduciary obligation to the owners to solely prioritize profit. it’s literally the law that the only thing they are to do is create profit for shareholders.

The CEO is a tool which the owner class uses to facilitate company operations, no more. Literally they are a mask to hold up in front of themselves. A prop.

Understand that the CEO dying is the point. He took the bullet, the blame, the conflagration. His purpose is fulfilled in the eyes of the faceless diffusions of power within the company. Now, get another. And seemingly the actual controllers - the owners - remain anonymous and safe.

These people are not the ruling class - they are the lowest possible rung of it. They are the vanguard for the ruling class. These are celebrities, CEOs, the public faces of the ruling class which direct resentment toward themselves and save their bosses from the fire. They exist to absorb the impact. And this is how nothing changes, because as people joke about Brian Thompson online they participate within the very safety-valve that the owner class has put in place to preserve itself. Yet seemingly it feels radical and fun and transgressive to make fun of it. Another example of how co-opting dissent is one of the primary and greatest tools the ruling class has to maintain itself.

[reidmarieprentiss]

Quickie?

Summary: Reader wants to sneak in a quickie before the BAU takes off again.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x FBI fem!reader

Category: fluff, suggestive (16+)

Warnings/Includes: suggestive content, secret relationship, reader works at FBI but not BAU

Word count: 1.7k

a/n: this is much more positive than the last post :)

main masterlist

You and Spencer have been secretly seeing each other for a few months now. Since you work in a different department, you don’t get to see him as often as you’d like, and you never have the chance to join him on cases. 

The moment you see the news that the BAU is heading out on another case, your heart sinks just a little. You understand that Spencer’s job is demanding—he’s always chasing criminals across the country, putting his mind to work in ways that save lives. But it doesn’t make it any easier when he’s gone for days at a time, leaving you to miss him in silence.

With a quiet sigh, you pull out your phone and type out a message:

Meet me upstairs before you go?

You don’t have to say where. You both know. The fifth-floor office—empty, forgotten, your little sanctuary within the walls of the FBI. It had started as a joke, just a place to escape prying eyes when work got overwhelming, but over time, it had turned into something more. A safe space for the two of you.

The reply comes almost instantly.

Give me five minutes.

You don’t hesitate, pushing away from your desk and making your way to the stairs instead of the elevator. The anticipation sits heavy in your chest, a mixture of excitement and something almost desperate.

By the time you push open the office door, Spencer is already there, leaning against the desk, his messenger bag slung over his shoulder. His eyes soften the moment they meet yours.

“You’re fast,” you say, closing the door behind you.

“I wasn’t going to waste any time,” he murmurs, already reaching for you. His hands find your wrists, pulling you closer as he stays seated on the desk. His touch is warm and grounding, even through the layers of clothing.

Your fingers drift up to the collar of his cardigan, playing with the fabric as you let yourself relax in his presence. “I hate that you have to go.”

“I know.” He sighs, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I hate it too. But I’ll call you as soon as I land.”

You nod, though it doesn’t really make it easier. “I just wish we had more time.”

His hand moves to your waist and tightens ever so slightly. “Me too.” There’s a pause, a hesitation in his expression, before he adds, “I think about you all the time when I’m gone.”

Your heart stutters at his confession, a warmth spreading through your chest. “Yeah?”

Spencer huffs out a soft, shy laugh. “Yeah.”

You can’t help but smile, reaching up to brush a lock of hair away from his face. “Then you better come back to me in one piece.”

You lean in, pressing a sweet kiss to Spencer’s lips—soft, slow, something that feels like a promise. When you pull away, he stays close, murmuring against your mouth, “Always.”

Something about Spencer’s breath ghosting across your lips sends a shiver down your spine. The soft pink hue creeping down his neck is so endearing that it stokes a fire deep in your stomach, pooling heat beneath your skin. You lean in for another kiss, slow and deliberate, savoring the way he melts beneath your touch. One hand threads gently through his hair, fingers curling lightly at the roots, while the other traces delicate patterns against his chest, nails just barely scratching over the fabric between you.

Spencer gets lost for a moment, his mind short-circuiting as he tries to process the reality of you—of your lips on his, of your hands in his hair, of the way you look at him like he’s something to be devoured. It still feels surreal, like a dream he’s half-convinced he’ll wake up from because someone as beautiful as you want him like this doesn’t seem possible.

But then reality crashes back in—the fluorescent hum of the office lights, the distant chatter from the floors below, the ever-present risk of someone walking in. His fingers tighten briefly against your waist before he forces himself to gently push against your shoulders.

“Wait…wait,” he murmurs, his voice breathless and uneven as he tries to collect himself. “We can’t do this here.”

Your lips are already trailing along his neck, warm and teasing, and the way you hum against his skin makes his resolve waver.

“Do what?” you tease, your voice laced with mischief as you press another slow, deliberate kiss just beneath his jaw.

Spencer exhales sharply, his head tipping back slightly before he forces himself to lean away, his cheeks flushed as he fumbles for words. “Um… this.”

Your fingers curl at the nape of his neck, holding him close, your voice dipping into something dangerously sweet.

“What are we doing, baby?” you whisper, letting the words linger between you, daring him to say it.

Spencer’s breath stutters as he struggles to find the right words, his hands hovering uselessly over your hips as if he can't decide whether to pull you closer or push you away. His face is already flushed, the color creeping down his neck and disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt.

“I—I’m… Y/N, I’m going to… uh, get—” He swallows thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he tries and fails to look anywhere but at you. Finally, he forces the word out in a near whisper as if saying it any louder might make it worse. “Hard.”

A slow, knowing smile spreads across your lips as you tilt your head slightly, fingers still tracing lazy patterns along his chest. His honesty is endearing, his nervousness downright intoxicating, and the way his voice wavers only makes the fire in your stomach burn hotter.

“Oh,” you murmur, feigning innocence as your hand moves just the slightest bit lower. “Is that a problem?”

Spencer squeezes his eyes shut for a brief moment, exhaling sharply through his nose like he's gathering every ounce of self-control he has left.

“Yes,” he says, though it sounds more like a plea than a protest. “We’re at work.”

“And?” you press, leaning in just enough to let your lips ghost over his jaw.

He shudders, his grip on your waist tightening. “And… I can’t walk out of here like that.”

“Who says you’ll have to leave here hard?” you murmur, your voice dripping with mischief, your fingers still dancing lightly over his chest.

Spencer’s breath hitches, his body stiff as your words' weight settles over him. His pupils dilate, and for a brief second, you see the internal war flashing across his face—temptation battling with logic, desire against reason.

“Y/N…” His voice is barely above a whisper, shaky and uneven, like he’s already losing control. His fingers dig into your waist as if anchoring himself, but it’s no use—you can feel him unraveling beneath your touch.

Still, he shakes his head, his resolve clinging to the last fragile thread of professionalism he has left. “No, we can’t—not here.”

But his voice lacks conviction, and the way he’s looking at you, lips parted, breath shallow, tells you he wants nothing more than to give in.

You pout, tilting your head as your fingers trace slow, lazy circles against his chest. “Not here?” you echo, feigning disappointment. “That’s a shame… I was really looking forward to helping you with your little problem.”

Spencer exhales sharply through his nose, gripping your hips a little tighter like he's trying to physically keep himself in check. “It’s not—” He swallows, glancing toward the closed door like he’s calculating the risk. “It’s not a little problem.”

A slow, knowing smile spreads across your lips as you press closer, feeling the way his breath stutters at the contact. “Oh?” you tease, letting your hand trail just a little lower—not too much, just enough to make him squirm. “Is it a big problem, then?”

Spencer groans, tilting his head back in exasperation. “Y/N…” he warns, though his grip on you doesn’t loosen. If anything, it tightens.

You press a quick, teasing kiss to the underside of his jaw, feeling the way his pulse hammers beneath your lips. “I just think it’s kind of unfair,” you say innocently. “You’re about to leave for who knows how long, and I won’t even get to see you. The least I could do is make sure you’re… comfortable before you go.”

Spencer squeezes his eyes shut for a moment as if trying to gather every ounce of restraint he has left. “You are not making this easy.”

You hum, dragging your nails lightly over the fabric of his shirt. “You told me you didn’t want it to be hard.”

His breath catches, and he glares at you, but there’s no real heat behind it—just frustration laced with something darker, something wanting. “You cannot say things like that.”

“Why not?” You bat your eyelashes at him. “You’re the one who admitted to getting hard at work.”

Spencer groans, dropping his forehead against your shoulder like he’s conceding defeat. “You’re evil.”

You giggle, threading your fingers through his hair and scratching lightly at his scalp. “But you like it.”

He huffs out a breath against your neck, warm and shaky. “Unfortunately.”

You grin, pressing a lingering kiss to the side of his face before pulling back just enough to look at him properly. “Relax, baby,” you whisper, smoothing your hands over his chest. “I wouldn’t actually do anything here.” You lean in, your lips brushing against his in the softest tease of a kiss. “I just like making you squirm.”

Spencer exhales a laugh, shaking his head, but you can see how his eyes have darkened and how his fingers are still gripping your waist. “Yeah,” he mutters, his voice lower than before. “I noticed.”

You smirk, pressing one last playful kiss to his lips before pulling away completely, smoothing out your shirt like nothing had happened. “Well,” you say cheerfully, stepping back toward the door. “Have fun on your case.”

Spencer stares at you like he’s still recovering as if he’s not entirely sure if he should be frustrated or turned on. Probably both.

“You’re evil,” he repeats, though the way he’s looking at you says he wouldn’t have it any other way.

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[wqnwoos]

⇢ pairing. chwe vernon x reader ⇢ summary. vernon loves music, and you love vernon. ⇢ genre. fluff, bffs2lovers, college!au ⇢ word count. approx. 2k ⇢ author’s note! happy (early) valentine’s day! i unfortunately wrote this last week which means it came so close to deletion at least 10 times, and so im posting it now to prevent that. thank you to alta @haologram for helping me brainstorm the playlist, i truly believe u are a gift to this world.

playlist. love language, kehlani / jasmine, dpr live / want u around, omar apollo & ruel / like i want you, giveon / thinkin bout you, frank ocean / best part, daniel caesar & h.e.r.

It’s closing in on two in the morning when you finally leave the library. Your phone’s been on do not disturb since you got there at seven, which feels like forever ago — as you exit, casting a sympathetic glance at the remaining two students still glued to their textbooks, you scroll quickly through your notifications. Two emails, a follow request, and a passive-aggressive threat from Duolingo.

You pull your coat tighter around you as you finally emerge through the last set of double doors — it’s freezing, and you’re just about to stow your hands deep into your pockets when your phone buzzes.

[2:03am] vernon 👽🖤 yo [2:03am] vernon 👽🖤 ur prob asleep but i made u smth [2:04am] vernon 👽🖤 https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4grGIbqG5VSvNpDLuwdG7X

Instinctively, you smile. You and Vernon have a bunch of playlists. A collaborative one, for when you’re together, driving or hanging out or whatever. Then he has one for you with all the songs he thinks you’ll like, and then you have one for him for the same reason. 

[2:05am] you another one?  [2:06am] vernon 👽🖤  yooo why are u still up dude [2:06am] you hypocrite 🫵 [2:06am] you but i’m walking home from the library rn

vernon 👽🖤 ��is calling . . .

“Dude,” he says, by way of greeting, and he doesn’t sound impressed.

“Dude,” you mimic exactly, biting back a smile at the sound of his voice.

“It’s two in the morning,” he sighs, and you can hear sheets rustling in the background. “Why are you walking home alone?”

“It’s not far, Vernon.” 

“It’s dark and it’s been snowing. You should have called me,” he reprimands without any heat. “I would’ve picked you up.”

“Well, it is two in the morning.” You cross the road, stepping over a patch of snow. “I assumed you’d be asleep, not curating another playlist.”

“Oh. Yeah, that — that was — have you opened it?” Vernon’s words trip over each other, and your lips turn up ever so slightly. God, he’s so sweet.

“What, are you nervous?” you tease, unable to resist. “I have, like, fifteen of your playlists saved already.”

“You haven’t opened it,” he infers, and exhales a little. “Okay, um, maybe you should… wait. Until the morning or something.”

“Yeah, right,” you snort. “I’m listening to it now! It’s going to keep me company on my way home. Talk to you later!”

And you hang up before he can protest, already scrolling to find the link he sent you.

The first thing you notice is the name — Love Language. Which makes your heart twist a little, until you realise it’s the name of the first song, and anyway, you and Vernon have made this joke a hundred times. His love language is making playlists, he does it for his friends all the time. You included — you especially. Like the time he’d eaten the last slice of a cake you’d bought, apparently because he thought it was free-for-all. You’d given him the silent treatment for a day and a half before he’d texted you a playlist link: 

I AM (IVE)

really (mimi bay)

Sorry (Justin Bieber)

About (SoKuen)

EATING (Sukihana)

The Cake (John Powell)

I Will (Remastered 2009) (The Beatles)

Buy (Cousines like Shit)

You (Basil Valdez)

MORE (j-hope)

Please Please Please (Sabrina Carpenter)

Forgive Me (Chloe x Halle)

It made you laugh, because Vernon always makes you laugh. A few months and a few playlists later, you were harbouring the biggest crush known to mankind.

That was three years ago. You and Vernon are seniors now, set to graduate next summer, and what was meant to be a harmless crush on a friend has turned into being completely, totally in love with your best friend. It wasn’t that serious until it suddenly was. It was butterflies in your stomach when you saw him, at first. Now it’s like a sigh of relief. It's more coming home. Which is a lot more dangerous, and a lot more painful.

You handle it, most days, but sometimes he’ll do something or say something that completely throws your perfectly regulated emotions into overdrive. He’ll laugh at a stupid joke you make, or he’ll grab your hand to make a point or he’ll tell you that you’re pretty, and your heart swells until it presses painfully against your ribs, hot and slippery and aching. Those days, you mostly go home just to lie on the floor, listen to the only playlist of yours that Vernon hasn’t seen.

The second thing you notice about the playlist Vernon made you is the cover. It’s you, you know it immediately, and you know exactly which day it was taken. You just didn’t know it was taken. But your best friend must’ve snapped a photo when you weren’t looking, because the cover is you, looking up at the cherry blossom tree that the two of you stumbled on during a late-night walk. It was maybe a little under a year ago, it was the night you realised you loved him, and it was the night you almost kissed.

You don’t know if he remembers it the same way you do. To you, that’s your biggest what if? moment. To him, it’s probably just another fun memory with his friend. His best friend, if you’re lucky.

It takes you a second, but you finally click play on the playlist — but the picture stares back at you, practically taunting you with the memory.

The two of you had been walking for twenty minutes, sharing airpods, until you’d seen the tree and gathered a pile of pink petals to dump over Vernon’s head; he’d realised what you were doing just a moment too late. Asshole, he’d said smilingly, brushing the petals off with two hands. Everything that happened next was cliché. He’d missed a spot, one pale petal still clinging to his hair; you reached your hand up to get it, and lingered a little too long, a little too close. You don’t think you’ve ever held eye contact for so long — it felt like forever and then some.

Until his eyes flicked downward. Only for a split second: if you’d blinked, you would’ve missed it, but you saw it, and it was enough to have you taking a step back. Not like this, you’d thought to yourself. You wouldn’t do anything like that. You wouldn’t throw years of friendship and an extended period of pining away so easily — you wouldn’t risk it over an impulse that Vernon was experiencing. If you couldn’t have all of him, you refused to even take one night. You’d rather not know than live with the memory.

You’re halfway through the second song when you finally snap out of the memory, and you can actually take a moment to glance at the rest of the playlist. To your surprise, it’s short — it’s only six songs — and more interestingly, you know all these songs. And Vernon knows you know them; some of them you recommended to him, some of them he’s sent to you already, and you’re still wondering what he’s thinking as the third song ends. 

Despite you claiming to be his best friend, you don’t always understand Vernon. Sometimes it’s little things, like how he fist bumps the cat on the street corner of his apartment. Sometimes it’s bigger, like the girl he dated last year. You didn’t understand that — or maybe you didn’t want to, because yes, you were well on your way to being in love with him, but he also didn’t tell you. You found out from Seungkwan (who was kind of triumphant about it, because he was always vying for the position of Vernon’s best friend, and he finally knew something you didn’t).

Mina was lovely. As if Vernon would date someone not lovely — he brought her to movie night after a month or so of them seeing each other, and she met your group of friends, and everyone loved her. Even you. And honestly, after excusing yourself to the bathroom to blink away your watery eyes, you convinced yourself that it was for the better: that this would be how you officially got over your best friend. So when Soonyoung asked you to go on a blind date with one of his friends the next week, you said yes. You and Wonwoo saw each other for about a month before you broke it off, and about a month after that, Vernon showed up at movie night without his girlfriend, and casually mentioned that they’d broken up.

Even the news of that didn’t do much to soothe you, because you’d quickly come to a conclusion while dating Wonwoo: that it would not be easy to get over your best friend. You knew you loved him now. You’d come to that realisation under the cherry blossom tree, a few months after both of your breakups, a year after you realised that you liked him like that in the first place. It’s been well over two years since you first fell for him, and you’ve been stuck there ever since — falling deeper and deeper because you refuse to pull yourself out.

Sometimes, on your most hopeful nights, you think that maybe Vernon could feel something too. Some nights he looks at you with a certain shine in his eyes, or when he hugs you he makes it last a little longer than usual. Some nights he opens his mouth to say something and the words get stuck in his throat, and he waves it off like nothing happened. Symptoms that are all too familiar.

Those nights are even worse, the ones where you go home and read too much into his every move, try in vain to stifle the hope that insists on clawing its way to your chest. Those nights are getting more and more frequent, and you don’t know how much longer you can handle it. Those nights, something in you is convinced he feels something, that maybe he could like you — on the very worst, you think he might even love you. But by the next morning, you’re dead certain that all you’ll ever be is a friend to him.

But now — today — you’re eight minutes away from home and nearly five songs in when it starts snowing, and at the same time, the cogs in your mind slowly start turning. You love these songs, Vernon knows you love these songs. You’re pretty sure they’re some of his favourites too; he’s always listening to them. And you’re so preoccupied with the realisation that’s sinking in, that same traitorous hope you’ve always shoved down stirring again in your chest, you barely even notice the snowflakes settling around you.

Because maybe you don’t always understand Vernon, but most of the time you do, even if it takes a little while — even if he has to spell things out for you, like his stupid cake playlist. Because that’s what he’s doing, you realise with a sudden jolt, looking at your favourite songs. Your favourite love songs. He’s spelling it out for you. That this is his love language; that he wants you; that he thinks about you; and as the last song finishes, just as you turn onto your street — if you love me, won’t you say something?

When you finally look up, you think you’re hallucinating. Because Vernon’s standing in front of your apartment building, holding an umbrella, and it startles you so much you actually stop in your tracks a few metres from him, blinking idiotically.

Vernon gives you a shy smile, charming and awkward. Your heart does the thing it always does when he looks at you like that; stutters, skips a beat, clenches tightly.

“You stopped replying to my texts,” he says, and the street’s empty enough that you can hear him, even from where you’re standing. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You don’t say anything because what can you even say? Where do you even start? You don’t have words — but you tap quickly at your phone with a sudden idea, and you hear the ping of Vernon’s phone from where you’re standing. You move closer anyway, smiling at the familiar furrow of his brow as he glances between you and the phone he digs out of his pocket. And you see the exact moment he registers what you’ve sent him, the smile that spreads across his face.

[2:39am] you https://open.spotify.com/track/5oO3drDxtziYU2H1X23ZIp [love on the brain - rihanna]

You and Vernon first met at a party. Seungkwan had promised both of you, separately, that it wasn’t a party, more of a small gathering between his friends, but of course, Seungkwan’s definition of small doesn’t match yours. And so you were kind of hiding in a corner, nodding your head and mouthing subconsciously to Rihanna’s Love on the Brain; you’d turned your head a few inches, and Chwe Vernon was standing a few metres away, doing the exact same thing. You guys had accidentally made eye contact and split into matching embarrassed smiles, until he’d sat next to you. He’d offered you possibly the most awkward fist bump ever, pairing it with an even more awkward, “So, uh, got love on the brain?” You’d laughed, and that was it — the beginning of you and Vernon.

Now, he pockets his phone again, but holds the umbrella out over both of your heads, which only makes you giggle. “You brought an umbrella?”

“It’s snowing,” he shrugs, but his smile is wide, “It’s just like… colder rain.” 

“Stupid.” What’s more stupid is the smile you can’t peel off your face. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?” he counters, and you tilt your head with a sheepish smile. So many reasons, but one look at him and you forget them all.

“So,” he murmurs, slipping his free hand around your waist, “got love on the brain, hm?”

“Something like that,” you agree, and after three years of wanting and waiting, you finally kiss him.

a/n i linked the playlist vernon made at the top (yes i dug up one of my very old spotify accounts to do this). i have very mixed feelings about this one. it's kind of cheesy but so is most of my work, and anyway it's valentine's day!! so who cares!!! also once again this got a banner bc once again this picture inspired the whole thing. also wtf is up with tumblr ruining image quality!!!

perm taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @wondering-out-loud

@tokitosun @hannyoontify @sahazzy @dokyeomin

@icyminghao @smilehui @nicholasluvbot @lvlystars

@immabecreepin @hanniehaee @kokoiinuts @astrozuya

@yepimthatonequirkyteenager @qaramu @weird-bookworm @phenomenalgirl9

@lightnjng @strnsvt @onlyyjeonghan @athanasiasakura

@iamawkwardandshy @twilghtkoo @yuuyeonie @lllucere

@pearlesscentt

@sourkimchi @porridgesblog

[gffa]

I'm still trying to navigate my way through the absolute avalanche of Arcane fic, but I am here to scream at everyone about the fics I've loved so far and try to drag a few more of you down into this hellpit of feelings with me. It's nice down here, I promise! Totally normal and with soooo many hinges, nothing off a single hinge here!

JAYVIK RECS:

✦ To love is to risk the soul's quiet by Disguised_Bird, jayce/viktor, NSFW, 32.7k     When an anomaly suddenly transports an older, scarred version of Jayce into the Jayce of Viktor's timeline, the two must navigate the strange collision of past and future while grappling with feelings neither fully understands. As they work late into the night to find a way to send Jayce back, tension turns into intimacy, pushing Viktor to confront vulnerabilities he has spent a lifetime burying.

✦ Say My Name by Acryllic, jayce/viktor, NSFW, eventually post-canon, 77.2k wip     “Tell me now if you don’t want this.” He stroked Viktor’s bottom lip with his thumb, “Keep saying my name if you do.”

✦ This ain't goodbye no more, it just began by SirCumference, jayce/viktor, NSFW, 7.1k     After he and Viktor save the world, Jayce wakes up in his old bed on the day it all started. Things are different, this time.

✦ first times, second goodbyes by tragicperformer, jayce/viktor, NSFW, post-canon, 1.6k     “What do you mean pull out?” He teases, the corners of his lips quirking up into a stupid, dopey grin. “I have separation anxiety.” “Yes, I know,” Viktor intones. “We were just discussing this. It is why I’m currently visiting you, rather than focusing on my duties back in the commune.” “Yeah. And when I pull out, you’re going to leave again,” Jayce rationalizes. Not entirely incorrect. “Just a few minutes. Please, Vik? Let me pretend for a little longer.”

✦ The Threads of Our Mind by Darling_Pigeon, jayce/viktor, post-canon, 3k     Snapshot of Jayce and Viktor’s new life of exploration after the finale: Viktor helps Jayce adjust to his brace, but they discover they may be connected in another, strangely magical way.

✦ Time For Space by yurikazen, jayce/viktor, NSFW, post-canon, 6.6k     First, there’s a wave of blinding light, tearing through the cosmos like a free-falling comet. Then, Jayce opens his eyes to find a smooth, unfamiliar ceiling above his head. (Jayce dies, holding Viktor close to him, yet death is just another beginning.)

✦ two left feet by ChiliCheeseCornDog, jayce/viktor, 4k     Jayce rises from his seat, face set with a soft smile, and holds out his right hand with the palm facing up. “Let me teach you how.” The pause is long and unrelenting. “You are joking,” Viktor manages to say. or: Jayce teaches Viktor how to dance, Piltover-style.

✦ destabilise by antiparticular, jayce/viktor, 3.6k     Jayce was naked and in Viktor's bed. Don't get him wrong - Viktor had dreamed of this happening, both literally and on slow days in the lab when he was feeling particularly self-indulgent, but for it to manifest outside of his overactive imagination? He was half tempted to pinch himself to check he'd actually awoken. Why was Jayce Talis in Viktor's bed? And more pressingly, why did Viktor not remember?

✦ Run It Back Again by Withercrown, jayce/viktor & vander/silco & cast, 18.9k wip     Sometimes there's nothing you can do except scrap the whole experiment and start over. The worst possible outcome becomes an opportunity for a new beginning. Viktor and Jayce, estranged enemies in a brutal war, go back to the start - and then earlier than that. The key to their salvation ends up being an undercity brat named Silco. He's not quite the person they remember.

✦ Electric Desires by abisbookcase, jayce/viktor, NSFW, 1.2k     Viktor gets an important phone call in the middle of sex, and Jayce keeps fucking him roughly, trying to make him slip up while he talks.

✦ Between gears and parties by chaosheadspace, jayce/viktor, 3.6k     "Why do you think it is so hard for people like me to get a footing here?" Viktor asks. "Aside from the obvious classism, of course. I'll tell you. Bureaucracy. Do you know how difficult it is to even find a place to live without a last name up here?” Or: Jayce wants to save his partner some trouble and gets them married on paper.

ZAUNDADS RECS:

✦ Take Me Like You Mean It by Anonymous, vander/silco, NSFW, 2k     Young! Silco and Vander have sex in the alleyway behind the last drop after closing.

✦ Mr Eye of Zaun by limeta, vander/silco & jinx & vi & cast, 28.8k wip     Mylo and Claggor would say there’s nothing that scares Vi. She can dish out punches and evade danger better than anyone. She’s their fearless leader, always ready to take them on a job and back without losing anyone. It’s that level of assurance that they have in her, that confidence she exudes, that makes them trust and believe in her. But they’re wrong. Powder knows there’s something that scares Vi. And that’s because it scares Vander. Or: Silco reads the letter Vander left in the mines and sticks around as a boogeyman in the Last Drop.

✦ let fall the world by perfidiousalbion, vander/silco, nsfw, 4.2k     Or: before it all went wrong, Silco and Vander had something good.

✦ The Lives of Others by Lilbaebloo, vander/silco & ekko & benzo, NSFW, 5.1k     Ekko drops an emotional grenade on Silco and Vander when he brings up their fated night at the river thirteen years earlier. The plunge into the past reminds them both of how far they've come, together and apart, and what they have to keep living for.

✦ The Shore From Which I Fell by ClutchHedonist, vander/silco, NSFW, 1.2k     “I knew you still had it in you.” Silco’s mouth tastes of ash. His tongue, tacky and dry with the suffocating weight of it, threatens to stick to the roof of his mouth as his lips fall shut. He does his best to swallow past the whisper of bruising already blossoming in his throat where Vander’s broad hand has yet again left its mark.

✦ Night Business by spicedrobot, vander/silco, NSFW, rough sex, 2.6k     The rulers of Zaun play a game.

✦ While the world turns around by Blue_Daddys_Girl, vander/silco & jinx & benzo, 8.9k     In a chance meeting Vander sees Silco for the first time since the fateful day he's come to regret so deeply. Silco has changed—they both have. Vander can't stop thinking about him.

TIMEBOMB RECS:

✦ Little Crow by shroomyystar, ekko/jinx, 2.1k     There’s a monster under his bed.

✦ Let's Give It One Last Try by the_whole_shebang, ekko/jinx, post-canon, 12.3k     The war is finally over, and Ekko is finally home, but an old friend has one more favor to ask of him. Jinx found the strength to walk away, but something told her not to let go just yet. Maybe if Vi and Ekko hadn't given up on her yet, then she wouldn't either. Plus, thanks to Ekko, she was starting to think that the past wasn't as set in stone as she though it was.

✦ Let Me Try by Blue_Daddys_Girl, ekko/jinx, post-canon, 4.3k     Ekko walks away from the final battle in a daze after learning that Jinx is dead. Or: An alternate ending to the show, in which she isn't, no matter what Vi believes.

SOMETIMES THE SHIPS AREN'T THE POINT RECS:

✦ wait 'til your sister sees where you've been by QwahaXahn, vi & jinx & cast, post-canon, 12.9k     OR: Jinx falls. The bomb explodes. Everything goes white. ...And Vi wakes up in a different world.

✦ was it the worst you'd never know by Anonymous, jinx & silco, 2.2k     “Fix him,” she demands, voice barely decipherable through the breaking and raspiness from crying. Gentle, gentle, as gentle as Singed knows how to be, which is not very. Jinx will have no qualms killing him if he steps wrong. “He is… very far gone.” And indeed he is. His chest does not rise, and his eyes are vacant. He is gone. “FIX. HIM.” aka jinx refuses to let her father die and brings him to singed. it goes better than expected

✦ Six Weeks Since by argonautoida, jinx & viktor, 2.1k     Six weeks after Silco died, Jinx finally makes a friend.

[steveseddie]

i’ll save you a seat

steddie | rating: t | cw: none | wc: 3,5k | tags: eddie has a crush on steve, pining, eddie sits on steve’s lap as a joke, but steve turns the joke on him, twice

a/n: inspired by this post from @rogueddie (hi hello big fan of your headcanons)

click here to read on ao3

By the time Eddie comes back to the living room, carrying two bowls of popcorn, his friends have taken every available spot on the couch and on the floor.

It’s a full house tonight at the Harrington residence with El, Will and Jonathan visiting from California plus the local pipsqueaks, Wheeler, Buckley, Eddie and the host himself. 

Eddie spots Steve on the couch and he marches over to him, ignoring the grunts and grumbles from the kids as he steps over them where they sit on the assortment of pillows and blankets laid on the floor. On his way over, Eddie hands one of the bowls to Mini Byers and the other one to El, knowing that out of everyone on the floor, they’re the most likely to actually share it. Meanwhile, Buckley and Jonathan are already holding their own bowl each, meant to be shared among the grown-ups piled on the couch. 

Usually two bowls are enough, but given that there’s more of them tonight, Steve had to bring out two more JiffyPop and he asked Eddie to bring them back while he got everyone settled in the living room. 

Which means it’s Steve’s fault that there’s no room left for Eddie to sit.  

Okay. Maybe there’s actually room for him to sit. Maybe Eddie could take the free spot on one of the blankets right next to Max. Maybe he could steal one of the many pillows that Henderson is hoarding and comfortably enjoy the movie. 

The thing is he doesn’t want to. He always sits next to Steve when there’s fewer of them and he’d hope tonight would be the same, but that spot is currently occupied by Buckley, who isn’t going to move no matter how nicely Eddie asks, and since Steve’s other side is squished against the arm of the couch to make enough room for four people to sit on the otherwise three-people couch, Eddie can’t ask him to scoot over.

And before Eddie sucks it up and sits on the floor, he’s going to whine about it. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t save me a seat, Stevie,” Eddie pouts, standing between his legs.

Steve’s big Bambi eyes blink up at him. “I tried, Eds, but Robs threatened me so I would give her your spot.” 

And oh- Eddie didn’t actually expect Steve to try and save him a seat, he was just messing with him. The fact that he apparently did makes Eddie’s stomach flutter. 

Next to Steve, Robin smiles smugly at him.

“You’ve fought monsters from another dimension and you’re afraid of Birdie?” Eddie asks, huffing indignantly. Buckley flips him off. 

“She threatened to bite me, man!” 

Eddie tsks. “You survived several bites from hell bats, you could’ve let her bite you.” 

“You let her bite you then!” Steve counters, lightly kicking Eddie’s leg. 

“I don’t want to bite either of you,” Robin says, her nose scrunched up. “I want to watch the movie. Dustin, hit play,” she says, throwing a kernel at Henderson’s head, who grumbles and crawls over to the VHS. “Eddie, sit down,” she says, throwing one at him too. 

Eddie gets an idea and he grins maliciously.

“As you wish, my lady,” he says with a flourish of his hand.  

Then Eddie turns around and flops down on Steve’s lap.

Steve lets out a yelp. “Jesus, what are you doing?” 

“Buckley said to sit down,” Eddie shrugs, glancing at Steve over his shoulder. “And since there’s no room, thanks to you, I’m taking the last available seat.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “My lap?” Eddie nods smugly. “Eddie, there’s plenty of room on the floor.” 

“But this is more comfortable, Stevie.”

“For you, maybe,” Steve snorts, pinching Eddie’s side. “Your tailbone is digging into my leg, Munson.”

“Well, Harrington, this wouldn’t have happened if you’d save me a seat!” 

“Shhhh!” 

Eddie flips Buckley off for shushing them. She glares at him for bickering when the movie already started playing.  

Okay. Maybe Steve was right to be afraid of her- she has a very mean glare.

“Fine,” Eddie concedes before Buckley actually bites him. He sighs dramatically, “I guess I’ll sit on the floor like a dog-”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Literally everyone else is sitting there and no one is complaining-”

Eddie ignores him. “And here I thought you liked me, Stevie, cared about me. I thought we were friends-” he says, clutching his chest.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve mutters in exasperation.

But when Eddie tries to stand up, Steve’s hands grab his hips, pulling him back into his lap. He flails and almost topples over onto Robin and Steve’s grip on his hips tightens. 

“Dude, stop moving.” 

“I’m trying to get up!” Eddie says, throwing his arms up.

Steve sighs. “Just-” He trails off, instead manhandling Eddie until he’s properly sitting on his lap and not sliding off of it, and wrapping his arms around his waist, trapping Eddie against his chest. 

Eddie lets out an entirely involuntary, undignified squawk. Blood starts rushing to his cheeks alarmingly fast. “Um, Steve, what are you doing?” 

“Getting comfortable,” Steve says, his cheek squished against Eddie’s shoulder. 

A nearly hysterical laugh tumbles over Eddie’s lips. “Dude, I was fucking around, I can sit on the floor-”

“And spend the rest of the movie whining and pouting? No, thanks. Just don’t move too much, okay? Your ass is boney.”

Unable to help himself, Eddie gives a tee-hee giggle. “So many dirty jokes I could make.”

Steve squeezes his side. “Don’t-”

“Shhhhh!” 

This time, it’s not just Buckley shutting them up, everyone else joins in.

“Just watch the movie, Eddie,” Steve whispers into his ear so he doesn’t disturb the others.

Eddie has to bite his bottom lip to keep quiet when he feels Steve’s warm breath tickling his neck. “Okay,” he says, his voice coming out a little squeaky.

But Steve doesn’t comment on it, simply tightens his arms around Eddie’s waist and leans back against the couch, bringing Eddie with him so they’re basically spooning. 

Eddie nervously glances around the living room, but no one is paying attention to them. Well, no one except Robin, who’s staring at them, her eyes twinkling with amusement. Eddie ignores her and the knowing smile that stretches over her lips, trying to focus on the movie.

But try as he might, he can’t pay attention to it- not when he can feel Steve’s breath against his neck, his arms around his waist, his chin hooked on his shoulder and his solid body underneath him. 

Being so close to Steve- on top of him, makes Eddie jittery and restless. But he can’t move, Steve told him not to, so he tries to sit still. 

He lasts, approximately, five minutes.

Soon, he starts wringing his fingers together on his lap, playing with his rings. 

Steve notices, and with a huff that sends shivers down Eddie’s spine when his breath tickles his neck, he grabs Eddie’s hands and traps them against his stomach. 

Eddie’s eyes fall to their hands, and his breath catches in his throat at the way their fingers rest intertwined against his stomach. He can’t look away- not when Steve’s fingers start drawing patterns over his skin, tracing the veins in his wrists, playing with his rings, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles. 

Eddie has to bite down on his tongue to stop himself from squealing. It only gets harder to keep quiet when something funny happens on screen- not that Eddie knows what is going on at all- and Steve laughs right in Eddie’s ear, squeezing his middle.

This time Eddie does let out a squeak which he hopes passes off as a laugh. 

It doesn’t.

“You okay?” Steve asks, and Eddie doesn’t know how he expects him to give a coherent answer when he can feel Steve’s nose poking his cheek.

Their faces are so close that if Eddie turned his head to the side his lips would brush against Steve’s, he would only need to lean in an inch or two and he’d be kissing him-

“Eds?” 

“Mhm, I’m great, Stevie boy!” Eddie says with a slightly strangled voice, but it’s enough for Steve, who turns his attention back to the movie. 

Eddie still has no idea of what’s going on, but he tries his damnedest to focus on that instead of focusing on all the ways Steve is touching him right now. 

He didn’t plan for this- he just wanted to mess with Steve a little and now he’s the one being messed with. 

Not that Steve knows what he’s doing. He would never fuck with Eddie like this if he knew about his big crush on him. He’s just oblivious- and incredibly touchy when it comes to Eddie. 

Which makes the remaining forty minutes spent in Steve’s arms both Eddie’s personal heaven and his personal hell.

That’s why when the credits starts to roll, Eddie lets out a relieved sigh. He expects Steve to push him off right away, but he doesn’t, not even when little by little everyone starts to clear out. Buckley jumps to her feet and clumsily sprints towards the bathroom, the kids all rush to the kitchen to raid Steve’s pantry while ignoring his protests and Nancy and Jonathan start gathering the pillows and the blankets scattered on the floor. 

Meanwhile, Steve squeezes Eddie’s side again and asks right into his ear- 

“You’re spending the night, right, Eds?” 

He knows Steve means to sleep. They talked about it when they realized that with Nancy and Jonathan both coming to movie night, Eddie wouldn’t need to drop the kids off afterwards so he could sleep over. It’s nothing new- they’ve been doing it for months. It’s just the way he’s asking right now, quietly and right into Eddie’s ear, his arms wrapped around Eddie’s middle- all of it makes Eddie’s stomach flutter wildly. 

“Y-yeah, sure thing, Stevie.”

“Okay, good,” Steve says, giving Eddie’s waist one last squeeze before finally pushing him off him and onto the couch gently so he can deal with whatever mess the kids can be heard making in the kitchen. 

Eddie slumps against the couch, sighing wistfully. Despite everything, he already misses the way Steve felt under him, how his arms felt around him, how his fingers felt playing with his own. 

“You good, man?” Jonathan asks, pausing as he folds one of the blankets to raise an eyebrow at him.

Eddie gives him two thumbs up that Jonathan accepts with a nod before he goes back to the task at hand, chatting with Nancy about the movie. Eddie is lucky that they don’t ask for his opinion on it- he doesn’t know if he’d be able to lie convincingly. 

Soon enough everyone is saying goodbye to Eddie and Steve before some of them climb into Nancy’s car and the rest do the same in Jonathan’s. They don’t question that Eddie is staying- the only one who acknowledges it is Robin, who gives Eddie that same knowing smile from before. And just like he did before, Eddie ignores it. 

Once it’s just the two of them, Steve starts guiding them to his bedroom. 

Eddie stopped sleeping in a guest room a long time ago after one night when a particularly awful nightmare had him knocking on Steve’s door and crawling into his bed. 

The next day, they both admitted it was the best sleep they’d had in weeks. 

The next time Eddie spent the night, Steve had led them both to his bedroom right away- just like every night after that.

“What did you think of the movie?” Steve asks, digging through his closet for sleeping clothes. 

“Um,” Eddie starts, trying to remember at least one thing about the movie he can comment on but coming up blank. “I, uh, didn’t pay much attention to it.”

Oblivious to the reason why Eddie didn’t pay attention, Steve hums. “Not your thing, huh? Next movie night you can be the one to pick.” He turns around and tosses some clothes at Eddie, who fumbles to catch them- and fails. Steve sniggers at him before he starts looking for clothes for himself. 

Eddie picks his up- a pair of Steve’s old basketball shorts and one of Eddie’s own band t-shirts that he must’ve left here at some point. Or Steve might’ve grabbed from his trailer. Beds aren’t the only thing they share these days. 

“Will you save me a seat next movie night?”

Steve glances at Eddie over his shoulder, his lips tugging up into a smirk. “Maybe I’ll just have you sit on my lap again,” he says with a wink. Good lord.

Eddie makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat at the thought of another movie night spent on Steve’s lap. Then, before Steve can ask if he’s okay, he gestures to the bathroom and locks himself there to change.

When he comes back out, Steve is starfished on his bed, wearing his own pair of basketball shorts and an old swim meet shirt.

Eddie takes a moment to stare at him- the way the shorts ride up on his legs, the way his arms bulge even when he isn’t flexing them, the way his hair fans across his pillow.

Then he impulsively sprints towards the bed and launches himself on top of Steve. 

He lets out a pained noise when Eddie lands on him, knocking the wind out of him, but his hands come up to grab Eddie’s arms, holding him in place and not letting him slide off him and onto the bed like he intended to.

“Seriously, dude?” Steve asks, slightly out of breath. 

Eddie laughs into his shoulder. “Sorry, Stevie, I couldn’t help myself.” 

Steve huffs. “I’m starting to think you like being on top of me.”

Eddie shrugs. “Actually, I usually picture you on top.”

Steve snorts out a startled sort of chuckle, eyebrows raised in amusement, and Eddie’s cheeks blaze red as he belatedly realizes what he just blurted out. 

He doesn’t know what to do next. If he should play it off as a joke or climb off of Steve and run out of the house- 

He thinks Steve is making the decision for him when he adjusts the grip he has on his arms. He thinks he’s about to shove Eddie off, tell him that it’s never gonna happen, Eds. 

Eddie starts to push himself up, feeling embarrassed already-

But then Steve digs his fingers into his arms, and in one swift movement, he flips them over so it’s Eddie laying flat on his back on the bed with Steve hovering over him, smirking playfully. “Like this?” 

Eddie blinks at him, waiting for his brain to restart after completely shutting down from how effortlessly Steve flipped them over. 

“I- huh? Steve- what-” 

“You said you like to picture me on top,” Steve says, shrugging casually. Their hips are pressed together and their faces are only inches apart- Eddie doesn’t understand how Steve can act casual about anything right now. “Personally, I don’t have a preference. I also liked being under you.” 

Eddie splutters. “S- Steve?”

“Yeah?” Steve asks innocently, tilting his head like a confused puppy. His hips shift and Eddie realizes just how thin the material of their shorts is. Jesus H. Christ.

“What the fuck?” Eddie mutters. 

“What the fuck what?” 

Steve can’t be this oblivious, for fuck’s sake. 

Eddie covers his face with his hands, taking a deep breath. “Jesus fuck, okay. Steve, when I said- I didn’t mean it as a joke, okay? I didn’t mean to say it at all, but I- our crotches are basically pressed together right now and I can’t not say it. I have a fucking- honestly a fucking embarrassing crush on you so when I said I think about you on top of me, I meant it, and I meant it in like, a sexual way and a- a romantic way and I know you’re joking right now, but this- well, this is about to get reeeally awkward really fast if you don’t get off of me.” 

Eddie peeks through his fingers and finds Steve biting his lower lip like he’s thinking something over. 

“Do you want me to move?” 

“Fuck, no,” Eddie admits with a sigh. “But Steve-”

“Eddie, hey,” Steve cuts in, grabbing Eddie’s wrist and trying to move his hand away from his face. “Look at me.” 

With another sigh, Eddie complies, lowering his hands and looking at Steve.

“There you are,” Steve says, his eyes softening when they meet Eddie’s. 

“Steve-”

“I’m not joking,” Steve tells him. “I like you too, Eddie. Romantically, sexually, all of it.”

Eddie’s breath catches in his throat. He blinks at Steve. “But- but you’re- you’re straight.”

“I’m not actually,” Steve snorts. When Eddie just stares at him, mouth agape, he sighs. “Eds, I let you sit on my lap for two hours, I basically spooned you.” He looks down between them and looks back at Eddie with a raised eyebrow. “I’m literally straddling you right now-” 

“I’m aware,” Eddie mutters, his voice coming out slightly strangled. 

Steve ignores him. “And I really really like you, so- definitely not straight.” 

Eddie lays there in silence for a few seconds as he tries to wrap his head around the fact that not only is Steve Harrington into guys, he’s into Eddie. 

“Holy shit,” he says finally and then, “why- why didn’t you say anything? You had to know I like you back.”

Steve gives a half shrug. “I thought I’d ease you into it first-”

“Ease me into it?” Eddie’s voice is about an octave too high. “You call this easing me into it? I think my brain melted out of my ears when you flipped us over like that!”

Steve raises an eyebrow at him. “Well, you sat on top of me first! I was just taking a page out of your own book-”

“What book? There’s no book! I was just joking, you were the one who trapped me there!”

“Well, when the guy you’ve had a crush on for months sits on your lap you don’t let him go,” Steve admits, shyly ducking his head. 

Eddie gulps. “Months?”

“Yeah, Eddie, months,” Steve admits, his fingers absently playing with Eddie’s hair where it fans across the bed.

“Holy shit.”

“You’re just gonna keep saying that?” Steve asks with a sheepish grin. 

“What do you want me to say?” He’ll say anything Steve wants him to just to keep them both like this. 

Steve’s eyes dart down to Eddie’s mouth. “Nothing, actually,” he says, licking his lips. “I want you to kiss me.”

Holy shit, Eddie thinks to himself, and then without another thought, he surges up, looping his arms around Steve’s shoulders as he all but mashes their lips together.

Steve hums into Eddie’s mouth and melts into him, kissing Eddie back. He lowers his arms, holding himself up with one elbow, using his other hand to cup Eddie’s head, fingers tangling in his hair. His lips move against Eddie’s so tenderly and slowly that it makes his stomach fill with butterflies.

Then Steve tongues gently at Eddie’s bottom lip and the butterflies explode. 

Eddie immediately parts his mouth, giving Steve permission, and his eyes nearly roll back when Steve slips his tongue inside, deepening the kiss. Eddie cards his fingers through Steve’s hair, giving it a soft pull, causing Steve to make this punched-out groaning sound. Chasing that sound with his tongue, Eddie carefully explores every inch of Steve’s mouth.

Eventually, Steve starts to slow down the kiss, but Eddie doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want to breathe, he just wants to kiss him, but he can’t do anything when Steve leans back and out of reach, the lower part of his body trapping him against the bed.

Unless-

Eddie grabs Steve’s arms and tries to flip them the way Steve did earlier but, while he made it look easy and effortless, Eddie can’t find enough leverage to budge Steve and he flops back down.

“Motherfucker,” Eddie huffs. “How did you make it seem so easy?”

“It is easy,” Steve says with a grin. “You’re just not strong enough, baby.”

Eddie squeals at the pet name- and then squeals again when Steve successfully flips them over again so that Eddie is straddling him.

He grins up at Eddie, that lopsided boyish grin that drives Eddie crazy and that it’s only worse now that Steve’s lips are red and slick with spit. “How’s that?” 

“Hot. Christ, that’s fucking hot,” Eddie says with a breathless chuckle. 

“So, that’s a yes to being on top?” Steve asks with a raised eyebrow, his hands grabbing Eddie’s hips like they did back on the couch. Only this time Eddie isn’t planning on getting off of him any time soon. Preferably never. 

“Sweetheart, that’s a yes to absolutely anything ever.”

Steve bites his lip, then he asks softly, “What if I ask you to be my boyfriend?”

Eddie’s brain screeches to a halt. His eyes nearly bulge out of his head. “You-you want to be my boyfriend?”

“Pretty fucking badly actually,” Steve shyly admits. 

Eddie whimpers softly. “Holy shit,” he mutters. Then he swoops down and gives Steve a kiss that he hopes translates to fucking shit yes! 

By the way Steve laughs delightedly against Eddie’s lips, he thinks he gets the message across. 

[obsessedwithceleste]

Finding Sunshine

Lorenzo Berkshire x reader

Based on this request 🫶🏽

Summary: soulmate! au in which the writing on your skin will appear identically on your soulmate.

word count: 4.5k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

Lorenzo Berkshire was going absolutely insane. What had he been thinking? Oh wait, he hadn’t been. It was a stupid bet. A drunken lapse in judgement that now had his head spinning in circles months later. He thought it should’ve been simple. The whole premise of it was after all.

You could write or draw almost anything on your skin, and it would appear on your soulmate as well. A rather nifty bit of magic, Lorenzo had thought. Probably saved a lot of folk a fair bit of heartbreak over the centuries. There were limits of course. No names. No specific locations or such. Fate couldn’t make it too easy. But still, knowing there was someone out there you were meant to be with, and having a way to find them? Lorenzo found the whole thing to be quite convenient.

And he was so close. He was certain they went to Hogwarts. There were too many coincidences for them not to. The puffapod plant that first week. The hippogriff that had appeared on his forearm the same week Hagrid had brought that beast to the school. It all lined up. A little broom and quaffle on the back of his hand for Slytherin’s first match of the season. But every time he got close, it felt as if they slipped through his fingers.

And that’s where you came in. His best friend. It hadn’t been any different from any of the other usual common room parties, except perhaps Enz had had one too many drinks. And perhaps he had monologued a bit too extensively about how he just wanted to find his soulmate. What could he say? He was a romantic. It wasn't a crime.

“Give it a rest man. At this point your soulmate probably knows exactly who you are, and you’ve scared them off,” Theo groaned, already sick of Lorenzo’s griping. Only a week into classes and he was at it again with this soulmate nonsense.

“He’s probably just too dense to pick up any of the hints his soulmate has been leaving,” you had replied with a laugh, giving Enz a teasing shove.

He just scoffed, looking down at you nestled comfortably next to him on the sofa.

“Oh, bold words from someone who hasn’t found their soulmate yet either,” Enz had retorted, giving you a light flick to the forehead. You bat his hand away.

“Only because I haven’t actually been looking. I’m sure I’d be able to find them faster than your sorry ass.”

It had only been meant as a joke. You both knew that. You and Enz were constantly throwing light hearted jabs at each other. It was basically the foundation of your friendship at this point. But you were also both competitive.

“Yeah? Is that right? Wanna bet on that one?”

And so it had begun.

Two months. That was how long you’d known Lorenzo Berkshire was your soulmate. Your best friend of all people. Looking back, it was rather embarrassing that it had taken you this long to figure it out, especially with how enthusiastically Lorenzo had been searching the school. All this time it had been staring him in the face. Hidden in plain sight.

You don't know what you had been thinking when you had agreed to make a game of it. Idiotic.

It had all started in the first week back of the new school year; with one little, insignificant slip of parchment that had slid onto your desk during another one of Professor Binns' lethargic lessons. It had been far too early in the morning to be listening to the ghost ramble on about yet another goblin rebellion. And at this point, they were all beginning to blend together anyway. Eager for the distraction, you uncurled the small note to find a simple 'good morning sunshine' with a crudely drawn heart next to it. Seeing it had scratched a certain part of your brain, but you couldn't quite put a finger on it at the time. Looking up, Lorenzo had offered a little wave paired with his signature, self satisfied smirk.

It wasn't until the next morning that the pieces slowly began to fall into place. Like every other morning, you awoke to a simple 'good morning' scrawled on the back of your hand with a little heart. Things between you and your soulmate had always been simplistic in your opinion, so you had never bothered to put much thought to it, but now it looked oddly familiar. The itch returned, and you strained to think why this silly little message from your soulmate suddenly felt so familiar.

And that's when it had hit you.

Scrambling now, you dug the note from Lorenzo out of you bag, eyes analyzing each bend and curve of the letters. Identical. How had you been so blind? How many times had you seen Lorenzo’s writing? How many times had you borrowed his notes? Reviewed his essays? Read his letters over summer break?

Sitting back on your bed, your thoughts were running a mile a minute, mulling over what to do with your latest development. You didn't want to believe it. Or maybe you did. Actually, it was more like you couldn't believe it. Did you tell him now? Or ignore it and pretend to be none the wiser? Perhaps fake your death, change your name, and flee the country?

No, you decided. The best course of action was to let him figure it out on his own. (At least that’s what you had thought at the time. Two months in and you weren’t entirely sure you’d made the wisest decision.) But he’d been searching all this time after all. And it just didn't feel like the right time. What if he didn't want you? Clearly it hadn't crossed his mind since in all his years of searching, he'd never once looked at you.

He seemed to want something grand, and perfect, and well, magical. And that just wasn't this.

Closing your eyes, you shake your head to clear your thoughts. Game face. None of that was important right now. The important thing, was that Lorenzo was your soulmate and he was your best friend, and what kind of friend would you be if you didn't make him suffer a bit?

“Look, look, see this? They have to be here,” Lorenzo says excitedly, brandishing his forearm out for you to see a bright pink and purple puffapod smack in the middle, mirroring your own that had been doodled there this morning.

“Wow Enz, a plant. Riveting,” you reply, making your way over to your seat in the greenhouse.

It had been your first drawing to the boy since your little bet a week ago, and you had heard from Theo that Enz had practically been glowing since its appearance.

“Not just any plant, sunshine. A puffapod, which is the plant Sprout said we’d be covering today in class. So clearly, my soulmate is telling me they’ll be here today.”

“An astute observation Berkshire, just one tiny issue. There are classes all bloody day. Who’s to say they’ll be in this class in particular?” You sigh, pulling out your notes.

Look. It’s not as if you wanted to intentionally mislead your friend, but really? No wonder he hadn’t gotten anywhere in his soulmate search, despite it being top of mind each year. If he wanted to know so badly, it wouldn't kill him to put in some work you thought.

Lorenzo groans at your point, his pretty face scrunching up in annoyance as he pulls his sleeve back down.

"I just think that when I see them, I'll know. I'll get the feeling. I just have to keep looking," Lorenzo replies, looking around the class at the other students, studying each face carefully.

"What if they don't want to be found?"

Enzo pauses, your question seeming to mull through his head for a moment before he shakes his head, brushing it off.

“Fine then, how’s your search going? I reckon you haven’t found anything or I wouldn’t be hearing the end of it.”

“That’s confidential I fear,” you reply with a grin, “Wouldn’t want you to sabotage me now, would I?”

A cocky smile returns to Enzo’s face.

“You wound me, sunshine! I would never!” He says dramatically, feigning a knife to the heart.

“Yikes, maybe Theo was right. Maybe you’re scaring your soulmate off with, whatever that was,” you laugh.

“Hush, you. You love it almost as much as you love me,” he replies smugly as you raise a disdainful eyebrow, side eyeing the boy.

"Careful there lover boy, or someone might think-"

Before you can finish your sentence, Professor Sprout bustles into the greenhouse, a cart of brightly colored plants following in her wake.

"It's a wonderful, beautiful day to learn about Puffapods!" she chirps happily, levitating a plant to each student's workbench. "Roll up those sleeves dearies! It's going to be a messy day!"

You feel Lorenzo's curious eyes on you when you don't make a move to roll up the sleeves of your shirt.

"A little dirt never hurt anyone," you say through a tight lipped smile, the drawing on your arm burning a hole through your heart.

Well this sucked. You'd have thought Draco would have learned his lesson after the first time a hippogriff sent him to the hospital wing, but apparently some things never changed.

"Your father will be hearing about this one," Lorenzo groans from his hospital bed, a cold pack pressed to his temple as he glared at the blonde boy in the next bed over.

"It wasn't my fault! If Hagrid just kept those bloody beasts away from me-"

"It was entirely your fault! You provoked that hippogriff for no reason! It was literally just sitting there minding its business!" you cut in, sitting up in your own hospital bed now to scowl at your friend.

Draco, despite being the cause for this whole mess, wasn't even the one with the brunt of the injuries. Just a few scratches and bruises. Enzo on the other hand, had taken a hoof to the head as he tried to pull you out of the way of the rearing beast. Unfortunately, he hadn't been able to save your wrist which was now broken, but it was better than being crushed alive.

"I didn't like the way it was looking at me," Draco grumbles defensively in response.

Oh when you got your hands on the little ferret-

Lucky for him, Madam Pomfrey chose just that moment to burst back through the doors of the hospital wing, tutting at her three newest charges.

"Alright Mr. Malfoy, you can go," she says, giving him a quick glance over before making her way over to Lorenzo to examine the side of his head where he had been kicked.

"Are you sure? I hurt everywhere," Draco whines.

"Mr. Malfoy you are perfectly well, and I have others to look after," Madam Pomfrey replies, dismissing the boy.

Draco lets out a dramatic huff before limping his way out of the infirmary.

"That boy," you hear her mutter under her breath before handing Lorenzo a vial of glimmering red liquid. "Sip of this twice a day until it's gone," she instructs. "Now off with you as well."

Lorenzo glances over at you.

"They gonna be alright?" He asks, taking the vial.

"Oh y/l/n will be fine. Bit of skele-gro and they'll be good as new. Now off you go. They need rest."

Hesitantly, Lorenzo gets up, wincing slightly, before making his way over to you.

"Sorry about your wrist, I didn't- I tried to-"

"It's alright Enz," you interrupt, trying to give the boy a reassuring smile. It comes out as more of a grimace though. "You got me out of there and that's what matters. Thank you."

Lorenzo gives you a weak smile and a short nod before turning to leave.

"Alright then, a bit of this and you should be out by morning," Madam Pomfrey says, bringing another vial over to the bed. "As long as the bones grow back correctly of course."

Salazar help you.

You can feel the sunlight on you before you open your eyes. It had been a long and rough night. Who knew re-growing your own bones would be that painful? Slowly, you let your eyes flutter open, trying to adjust to the light, only to be met with piercing eyes staring down at you.

"Bloody hell Theo," you yelp, jolting awake.

"Interesting sketch you got there," he says, cutting to the chase as he gestures to your arm.

You feel yourself freeze for a split second before you look down at the outline of a hippogriff you had drawn last night. There weren't exactly lots of things to do while Madam Pomfrey was holding you hostage in the hospital wing.

"Enz has pretty much interrogated everyone in your care of magical creatures class. Even Draco."

"Please don't tell him," you whisper, looking down.

"How long have you known?"

"Few days before we made that stupid bet," you reply, head falling back onto your pillow.

"That was almost two months ago."

"I know."

You hear Theo sigh. He's sitting now, bent over, face pressed into his hands when you finally look over.

"It's not my business," he says after an agonizingly long moment, "But don't hurt him. This is what he's wanted since we were kids-"

"I don't want to disappoint him."

You hear Theo let out another long sigh. Then a frustrated groan before he looks back up at you.

"Look. I'm not good at the whole supportiveness thing, but Enzo would never be disappointed. You don't see- Enz adores you okay? He's been a wreck since he left you up here all alone. Sent me up here to check on you because he's too busy baking you apology cookies with the house elves. So just- I don't know, think about it. You two are practically inseparable anyways."

You're almost too stunned to speak. You'd never heard Theo actually sound sincere before. It was weird.

"I- thanks Theo," you say finally.

"Don't mention it. Like actually don't. That was weirdly emotional, and I hated it. Also- try to act surprised when Enz brings you his apology cookies, I don't think I was supposed to say anything about that."

And with that, Theo is gone, leaving his words echoing through your head as you drift back off to sleep.

"This is the day, I can feel it," Enzo announces, pulling on his dark green quidditch robes.

"Bull. You've been saying that shit for years. Focus up Enz," Matt replies. They had a match to win.

"No, no, this time, I have a list. All the possibilities between herbology and care of magical creatures! And there's this," Lorenzo says excitedly, showing off the brooms and quaffle that were dancing across the back of his hand. "They'll be here today. Certain of it."

"You're always certain. Now get you're head in the game, I wanna win," Theo responds gruffly, not quite able to meet Enzo's eyes.

"Fine, I'll shut up, but you'll see," Lorenzo relents, tossing his hands up in surrender.

It had been a brutal game. One they had almost lost to those bloody Gryffindors. They would've been doomed if they hadn't built up such a lead from scoring before Potter caught the damned snitch. That was the only silver lining for the lions. Draco had almost had it too.

"You have a good time, sunshine?" Enz asks, sauntering over to you after the game.

"Watching a bunch of sweaty witches and wizards fly around for a couple hours? Hardly," you tease as the boy wraps you into a bear hug.

“Can’t believe we almost lost to those bloody lions,” Lorenzo mumbles into your hair.

“Hush, you played great,” you reply, your words muffled from being smothered by the brunette boy.

“I did, didn’t I?” Enz says with a cocky grin, finally releasing you.

You continue to talk with your best friend, but it quickly becomes clear that his mind is elsewhere as his eyes flicker between you and scanning the slowly dwindling crowd behind you.

“Looking for someone?” You ask curiously, turning to see what could have possibly caught Lorenzo’s attention.

“No! Well, I don’t know. Maybe? I just thought- I was certain…” Lorenzo trails off, eyes still searching the crowd desperately.

“This about your soulmate?” You ask, reaching out to hold the boy’s arm.

Lorenzo looks down at you and you can see the hurt on his face. There’s a pang of guilt in your chest as you meet his eyes.

“I don’t know what I thought. That they’d make some kind of gesture? That they’d come see me after if we won? Stupid. They have to know it’s me though,” Lorenzo lets out a long sigh. “Sorry sunshine, you’re probably as sick as everyone else of me going on about all this,” he says, running a hand through his tousled hair.

You open your mouth to protest, but before you get the chance Lorenzo presses a quick kiss to the top of your head before turning towards the Slytherin locker room.

“See you tonight sunshine.”

Your eyes follow as he walks away, feet dragging. From over Lorenzo’s shoulder, you can see Theo standing in the doorway of the locker room, eyes drilling into you. He doesn’t say anything, but the message is clear. You needed to tell him.

It was late. Even through the shadowy, murky waters of the black lake, you could tell that the sky outside was dark. And yet, the Slytherin common room was brimming with life, students still riding the high of the win against Gryffindor.

“Someone’s deep in thought,” Pansy comments dryly, placing a cup of amber liquid in your hands and giving you a small nod before tipping back her own drink.

“Just tired is all,” you reply lamely, swirling your glass for a moment before taking a sip yourself.

The familiar burn is barely noticeable as you already had a healthy buzz going. You didn’t even want to imagine what kind of condition the boys were in. They always went all in after a win, and a win against the lions was always a promise for a particularly rowdy night.

As if your thoughts had summoned them, Enzo, Theo and Matt push (read: stumble) their way through the crowd, joining you and Pansy in your secluded corner.

“Hey there sunshine, fancy seeing you here,” Lorenzo drawls, pulling you into a tight hug as soon as he spots you. You can smell the bitter scent of alcohol on him.

“Salazar, you’d think they were his soulmate the way Enz throws himself at them constantly,” Pansy mutters under her breath to Theo who just grunts back, a masterful plan beginning to form in his drunken mind.

Theo had been watching the two of you, you and Lorenzo that is, since that day in the hospital wing. The way you two were attached at the hip, yet constantly skirting around one another. But always in your own world together. Honestly he had no idea how Enz hadn’t figured it out yet. And really, he didn’t see why Enz even cared given the fact that he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off you.

Regardless, it was beginning to be unbearable. Combining your skittishness and guilty looks with Enzo’s near constant pining, Theo and the rest of the group were about to lose their damn minds. It needed to end tonight, and Theo was bound and determined to make it happen.

It didn’t take long for the conversation to turn to the topic of soulmates.

Drunk Mattheo had always been such an instigator. Even without Theo egging him on this time.

And he just so happened to remember that silly little bet you’d made all those weeks ago at the beginning of term.

“We all know Enz has come up empty handed, what about you, y/n? Anything you want to share with the class?” Mattheo asks, his usual troublesome grin plastered across his face.

“Shove it, Matt,” you snap, trying to hide behind your cup as you take another long sip.

“I’ll take that as a solid maybe,” Matt replies with a cheerful smile, raising his glass condescendingly.

“Fuck the whole soulmate bit, honestly. I’m sick of whatever game my soulmate is playing,” Lorenzo blurts out, shocking the group to near silence.

For as long as you’d all known him, he’d been a bit of a hopeless romantic. Maybe even to a fault. None of you had ever thought he’d be one to give up on his soulmate.

“Well,” Theo drawls after everyone has recovered, “There’s always one way to find out if they’re here at Hogwarts or not.”

Your eyes snap to the Italian, silently trying to figure out what the boy is playing at. Lorenzo leans towards his friend, swaying slightly as you try to steady him. Clearly having the group’s attention, with a quick flick of his wand, Theo is brandishing a simple black marker. Your eyes go wide, knowing exactly where this is going.

“C’mere Enz,” Theo says, beckoning your friend forward.

As if under the imperious curse, Lorenzo lurches forward despite your protest.

“Really Theo?” You ask, trying to at least buy a few seconds as Theo moves the marker to hover in front of Lorenzo’s face. “You’re honestly going to trust Theo of all people to draw on your face Enz?”

It’s too late as you watch, helplessly, as Theo makes a few quick scribbles across Enzo’s cheek before vanishing the writing tool. For a moment, everyone is too focused on the crude doodle on Enzo’s face to notice your hand rising to touch the matching ink.

“Really Theo? Immature prat, that’s phallic,” Pansy sighs rolling her eyes, not really seeming all that surprised by the boy’s antics.

It’s not until Enzo’s eyes lock with yours that the whole group fully grasps the reality of the situation. Pansy’s mouth forms a silent ‘o’, while Matt hardly seems surprised, more concerned with refilling his drink.

“What the fuck Theodore!” You shriek, lunging at the boy once you fully zero in on the black lines on Enzo’s face which were mirrored on your own.

Lorenzo stands, too drunk and too stunned as Pansy and Matt half-heartedly try to keep you from sending the killing curse Theo’s way.

“I think it’s time you and Enz have a chat, priorities and all,” Pansy says, prying you away from Theo as Matt leads the other boy off, their drunken laughter trailing away. "I'll make sure their dorm is empty for the night." The dark haired girl gives you a pointed look before she too disappears into the crowd, assumedly to find the other boys.

Taking a deep breath in, you turn to see Lorenzo looking at you like a kicked puppy, the stark outlines of the dick Theo had drawn on his face sticking out rather harshly.

"C'mon Enz, let's get cleaned up. I don't think either of us want to have this conversation with a penis drawn on our faces."

As soon as you step into the empty dormitory, a quick scourgify wipes the offending mark from Lorenzo's skin as you take a seat on his bed, but your friend just continues to stare at you from the door.

"You knew. You knew I was your soulmate and you didn't tell me," he says with a shakey breath. "You knew. And you said nothing." he says, his voice getting louder as his fists clench.

You try not to flinch away at Lorenzo's raised voice, but the look in your friend's eyes and the way he immediately collects himself tells you that you didn't do a very good job.

"I can explain. Enz, please, just let me explain," you beg, hating the hurt that was written all over the boy's face.

Lorenzo gestures for you to continue, but his feet remain planted firmly in place on the opposite side of the room. You supposed you deserved that though.

"Look, it- it all started back in the first week of school, when you passed me that note, in History of Magic," you start.

Lorenzo shifts where he's standing.

"That was before we even made that stupid bet. You knew before and you still let me make that stupid bet. Like an idiot." Lorenzo begins pacing around the room. "And did Theo know then too? Did everyone know but me?"

"No, it's not like that. You're not an idiot," you try to protest.

"Yeah? Then what is it like? Because to me, it seems like my best fucking friends have been lying to me for months. Bloody hell, all I've wanted for years was to find my soulmate. And you both knew that. So what was it? Was I not the one you wanted? Not good enough for you? Huh? Is that it?"

Before you can think twice, you find yourself across the room, reaching up to take a fist full of Lorenzo's hair and pulling his lips down to meet yours. The boy melts into you, hands finding their way to your waist as his fingers dig into your skin. His lips are warm as soft as they move against yours with agency, as if afraid you'll change your mind at any moment.

When you finally pull back, Lorenzo rests his forehead against yours, his breathes slowly steadying before he raises a finger between you two.

"No," he whispers, his voice raspy, "No, you don't get to just kiss me and make everything better, tell me why," he demands, pulling you down to sit with him on the floor.

"Well I was trying, but you kept interrupting me," you say, trying to lighten the mood a bit. "Um, when I first found out, I was just planning on teasing you a bit, having some fun with it you know?"

Lorenzo's eyes bore into yours as he traces circles on your leg, waiting for you to continue.

"But then, I suppose I got scared. You'd been looking for your soulmate for so long. And from all the times you'd talked about it, I knew you wanted some grand, special moment. It just never felt like the perfect time to tell you. Theo didn't find out until last week when he visited me in the hospital wing, by your request I might add, and told me I should tell you. Gave me a long inspirational speech about how I wouldn't disappoint you and everything. It was really strange actually. So then I was going to tell you today after your match-"

"And I blew it looking for someone else didn't I?" Lorenzo cuts in with a dry laugh.

"Just seemed like you were hoping it would be anyone but me."

Lorenzo takes your hands in his, slowly raising them to his lips before pressing a soft kiss to each knuckle.

"You, sunshine, are perfect. And I wouldn't want it to have been anyone else," he murmurs.

"Salazar, we're both a couple of idiots, aren't we?" you ask shaking your head, feeling the heat rise to your face.

"Course not, we're just soulmates," Lorenzo replies, standing up and offering you a hand. "Now, I seem to remember Pansy mentioning that she would make sure the others don't come back to the dormitory. She better be good for her word, because you sunshine, are mine for tonight. And forever."

Gahhhhh, it's fine, I only rewrote the entire thing once, but now I love it🤍

Hope this lived up to all your hopes and dreams anon, MWAH

[midnightfict]

A Star in the Making.

— 𓆩𓆪 —

𓆩 Lee Byung-Hun x F!reader 𓆪

Summary — Co-stars were caught in a whirlwind of off-screen chemistry.

A/N — this is a request that i rewrote the draft multiple times. the story request itself is sooo good but i feel this didn't live up to my expectations. hopefully, it's an enjoyable read though.

anon's request post

— 𓆩𓆪 —

Lee Byung-hun sat at the long, polished table across from Kim Tae-ri and the production team, a script resting unopened in front of him. The meeting room buzzed with quiet anticipation as the director leaned forward, clearing his throat.

“So,” the director began, looking between Byung-hun and Tae-ri, “we’re finalizing casting for Our Fading Days. Ji-ho and Min-ji are set, but we’re still struggling with Ha-yoon.”

Kim Tae-ri, who got cast as Min-ji tilted her head. “Isn’t the screen test next week? I thought you had a shortlist already.”

The director sighed. “We do, but none of them quite fit. Ha-yoon is vital to the story. We need someone who embodies her hopeful, cheerful energy, but also has depth. Someone who can hold her own against Ji-ho’s quieter nature and make the audience feel that emotional connection.”

Byung-hun listened quietly, his fingers lightly drumming the table. “What’s the issue with the shortlist?” he asked.

“Either they have great chemistry with you but lack the character,” the director explained, “or have the character but can’t create the platonic bond Ji-ho and Ha-yoon need. We’re considering holding another round of auditions, but…”

The producer chimed in. “We’re running out of time. If either of you has recommendations, please send them our way.”

Kim Tae-ri raised a brow at Byung-hun. “Any ideas?”

He shook his head. “Not yet.”

That evening, Byung-hun walked home under the dim city lights. The meeting lingered in his mind. Casting Ha-yoon was proving difficult, and he wasn’t sure they’d find someone who could balance the character’s charm and vulnerability.

As he passed a local theater, he noticed the soft glow of lights through the windows. Something pulled at him—curiosity, maybe. Without thinking, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The auditorium was nearly empty, save for a handful of people rehearsing on stage. Byung-hun’s gaze locked on a young woman, her. She stood at the center, pouring raw emotion into a heartfelt scene. Her voice carried across the room, weaving between desperation and hope. The intensity in her eyes made the dialogue feel alive like she wasn’t just acting but being.

He didn’t know the play or her name, but he felt a pang of admiration. The way she transitioned from lighthearted to deeply emotional reminded him of Ha-yoon’s complexity.

When the scene ended, her laughter rang out as she joked with the cast. The shift was so effortless that it startled him. This wasn’t just an actress—this was Ha-yoon.

Before he could gather his thoughts, a stage crew member approached him. “Sorry, sir, rehearsals aren’t open to the public.”

Byung-hun nodded apologetically. “My mistake.”

As he walked out, he pulled out his phone and called the director. “I think I found the perfect Ha-yoon. Contact the Arko Arts Theater. You’ll know her when you see her.”

⋆｡𖦹° ⏾ ˚｡⋆

Months passed, and filming for Our Fading Days was in full swing. You, cast as Ha-yoon, had been a bundle of nerves during your first few days on set. Transitioning from theater to television was daunting, but Byung-hun made it easier.

From the start, he was supportive, sharing tips, running lines, and reassuring you when you doubted yourself. “You’re doing great,” he said one evening after a long day of filming. “Better than great. Ha-yoon feels real because of you.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, still unsure. “It just feels… unnatural sometimes. Like I’m out of place.”

He smiled softly. “If that’s unnatural, I can’t imagine what you’re like when you’re in your element.”

The two of you quickly became inseparable. Lunch breaks were spent sharing snacks, late-night text exchanges were filled with inside jokes, and off-set outings turned into a regular thing. Kim Tae-ri often teased the both of you, trying to nudge the relationship further, but you and Byung-hun were oblivious to her hints.

As filming wrapped up, you found yourself bittersweet about the end. “I’m going to miss all of this,” you admitted one day.

He glanced at you. “You mean the show or…”

“Everything,” you replied vaguely.

The promotional interviews were in full swing, and the three of you, Lee Byung-hun, Kim Tae-ri, and you, sat on a couch, microphones in hand, under the bright studio lights.

The interviewer smiled as they turned to the group. “The story of Our Fading Days is so compelling—a childhood friendship between Ji-ho and Ha-yoon drifting apart as Ji-ho falls in love with Min-ji. It’s relatable and bittersweet. But,” they continued, their tone shifting to something more playful, “fans have picked up on something surprising. Despite Ji-ho and Ha-yoon not being a romantic pair, viewers are shipping you two. What do you think about that?”

You blinked, caught off guard for a moment, and then laughed lightly. “Oh, well, I guess it’s pretty common to root for the childhood best friend to end up with the main guy, even though Ji-ho and Ha-yoon see each other as strictly platonic. But yeah, I understand them, Ha-yoon's reaction towards their deteriorating friendship might seem more than platonic to the viewers.”

Before you could say more, Kim Tae-ri let out an amused laugh, shaking her head. “I think you misunderstood. The question wasn’t about Ji-ho and Ha-yoon. They’re asking about you and Byung-hun.”

Your eyes widened as the realization hit, and heat crept up your neck. “Oh.” You let out a nervous laugh, glancing at Byung-hun for support.

Byung-hun grinned, clearly amused by your reaction. “Really?” he said, leaning into the playful tone, “Shipping us? Wow, that’s a first—I didn’t think I had the qualifications to keep up with her. She’s the real star here!”

You laughed along with him, brushing it off. “He's too nice but yeah, Let's keep the shipping between our fictional lives.”

Kim Tae-ri smiled knowingly, her tone light but deliberate. “I don't know, you guys...” She paused, then added slyly, “Min-ji might just be the third wheel around here.”

The interviewer raised their eyebrows, the audience chuckled, and you felt your face grow warmer as you exchanged a quick, sheepish glance with Byung-hun. He gave a soft laugh, shaking his head in mock defeat, and the moment moved on—though the subtle tension lingered in the air.

⋆｡𖦹° ⏾ ˚｡⋆

Even after promotions ended, Byung-hun remained a constant in your life. He came to your theater performances, always waiting backstage with flowers in hand.

“You’re spoiling me,” you joked one night after a show, hugging him tightly.

“You deserve it,” he replied.

That evening, as you both strolled under the city lights, he suddenly stopped.

“You know,” he said, his tone a little nervous.

“Hmm?” you asked, looking up at him.

“I was thinking...” He rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. “Ji-ho and Ha-yoon might make a great couple. Their relationship is certainly more than some friendship, don't you think? ”

Your eyes widened, and for a moment, you were speechless. Then you laughed, the sound warm and genuine.

“Is Ji-ho trying to confess, here?” you teased.

“Maybe,” he admitted, grinning.

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Well… Ha-yoon definitely can sense the adoration Ji-ho has for her. I can say that she feels the same way.”

He chuckled, his hand brushing yours. “I'm glad she feels the same. She's a star in the making and he will continue walking her way.”

As the two of you walked on, hand in hand, the city seemed brighter than ever.

[leighsartworks216]

A Bargain Struck

dragon!Sylus x blind!oracle!Reader

Series Masterlist - Chapter One - Next Chapter

I almost forgot to post this today!! When I say it's been a day y'all, it has been a day

Warnings: swearing, fear of infection, intimidation, child death (mentioned), implied murder

Word Count: 923

Main Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

You think this is some joke to him. He’s walking ahead of you, albeit incredibly slowly, while you shuffle along the wall, scraped hands guiding you through what you can only assume is a cave. The walls are rough and jagged, not to mention winding. You think you feel doorways, but every time you start to turn into one to try getting any vague impression for what’s inside, he chastises you with an amused, “Over here, pet.”

You huff when your toe hits stairs. “This is your home?” you bite. You shuffle one foot forward to feel for the next step. What a nightmare. “Were you raised by Wanderers or something?”

He chuckles deeply. It reverberates around the hall. “It’s much worse than that.”

“Oh, yeah? How?”

“Hmph. Maybe I’ll tell you one day.”

“Asshole.”

“Careful, pet. Your god is watching.”

The cave is cool, seemingly untouched by the sun outside. The chill numbs your feet, bites at your fingertips. Even your ceremonial garb does little to keep you warm. You just bite your cheek. You’re already a prisoner here, best not allow yourself to be too weak around him. A difficult task, indeed.

You misjudge one of the steps. Your toes just catch the edge, but it’s not enough to support you and they slip. With no railing to hold, you cannot grasp for support. You tip backward with a shout.

Something hard wraps around your waist again. It holds you tightly, shoving you forward and onto a solid platform. Had that been the top step? You’re sick and tired of landing on your hands and knees like this.

You’re released as you sit up, back finding a solid wall to lean into as you cover your heart and will it to stop racing. “Ah,” you pant, “thank you.”

The “wall” suddenly steps away from you, and you catch yourself in another heart-stopping moment to save yourself from tipping backwards. “I won’t save you next time.”

“Let me go and there won’t be a next time.”

He chuckles, but it lacks any real mirth. “Get up. Or do I have to drag you the rest of the way?”

You sigh. Still, he doesn’t rush you when you sit a moment longer to calm your heart. Ever since you were a child, your health was of the utmost concern. You couldn’t do anything with the other kids, and not because of your lack of sight. Even braille books were considered too dangerous. The risk of a paper cut getting infected and killing you was a risk nobody was willing to make. As such, this much excitement was a shock to your system.

And suddenly, you find yourself worried about the tiniest cut getting infected and killing you out here.

You reach out, feeling for the real wall this time. Loose sand scrapes beneath you as you bring yourself to your feet. “Do you have any medical supplies here?”

He starts walking again and you follow.

“Would you be able to use them if I said yes?”

You wish you could see, just so you could smack him upside the head. “You keep underestimating me. I suggest you stop now before you embarrass yourself.”

“That’s a gamble I’m willing to take.” He sighs, sharp and tired, annoyed. “I might have some around.”

“Well, do you have water, at least? Clean cloth?”

“You’re a demanding little thing, aren’t you?”

“And you’re an insufferable bastard. Neither of us are too happy with each other, but if you won’t let me go, I suggest you do the bare minimum and allow me to clean my injuries,” you hold out your palms, unsure if he’ll even see them, “so I don’t get sick and die.”

His steps come to a stop. You stop with them. Your skin prickles and crawls, unsettled and on edge. His steps approach. You lean your shoulder into the wall, holding your ground rather than being backed up to some other possibly dangerous or deadly area in the cave.

“Tell me a prophecy, and I’ll get you your medical supplies.”

You scoff. “It’s not that simple. It’s Astra who picks and chooses what futures I see. I know nothing of you. All the prophecies I know right now are for the people in the city.”

Is that his breath fanning across your face? You flinch back at its heat. You feel like an injured rabbit facing down the maw of a starved wolf.

His voice is low when next he speaks. “Then tell me one of them.”

You turn your face away. His breath hits your cheek, though tendrils of the air brush down your neck. You suppress a shiver. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction. “There’s a scholar there. He studies the heavens and tracks their movement. His parents are anxious for him to conceive an heir. His wife is pregnant now, but…”

“But…?”

“... The child… will be a stillborn. They won’t know the cause of death, and that shame will fall to the mother. She won’t live long after, either, once the scholar crumples under the disappointment.”

He hums. The heat of his breath disappears. “I’ll get you your medicine. Next time, I’d be interested in hearing a prophecy of my own future.”

“Then you’ll have to pray to Astra. Only he can grant you the knowledge you seek; I’m just the messenger.” “Well, messenger,” he steps around you and nudges you with an elbow, “this is where you’ll sleep. Try not to fall down the stairs looking for me.”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @that-lost-one @always-just-red @22carolina08 @lunaizhere @sine-nomine0 @beautifulthingsiadore @lalaluch @burningtrashgentleman

[mylovesstuffs]

OT13 reaction to the idea of a threesome with another member

Request: hey!! can you possibly do !husband!svt reacting to having a threesome with another member?? kinda like if they even would consider it, or who they would choose out of all the others. thank you so much already!! + yes hubby!svt x wifey!reader x another member is what i meant!! sorry for being unclear about that!!🤍

A/N: Some of these choices might make it seem like I’m shipping, lol, but anyway—I hope this is what you wanted! I scheduled this without saving it to my drafts for a recheck, so don’t mind any mistakes I might’ve made. Tumblr doesn’t save changes, but I have way too many pending requests, and it’s getting overwhelming. I couldn’t complete the other requests because of this Tumblr issue, but today, I had an epiphany: I can just post directly instead—at least until Tumblr gets back to me. So please ignore any typos, formatting errors, etc., etc.

This is my personal opinion and perspective. It may not accurately reflect their real-life personalities or behaviors.

Would Definitely Consider It (Under the Right Circumstances):

Jun – He’s the wildcard. He has a flirtatious and experimental streak, so he wouldn’t mind trying it if you initiated the idea. Minghao will be his choice (bahahah).

Hoshi – He’s adventurous, playful and very open-minded. He’d probably be the one to bring it up first just to see your reaction. He loves excitement and if it’s something you’re curious about, he’d be down. Woozi would be his first choice. He’d love to see his usually composed bestie in a wilder setting lol.

Mingyu – He’s open-minded and likes pushing boundaries in relationships. He’d probably joke about it first but if you were genuinely interested, he’d consider it. I think his choice would be Wonwoo or Jeonghan. They already have that chem, and they are someone Mingyu trusts completely.

Minghao – He’s open to new experiences but only if it’s something you really wanted. He’s emotionally mature enough to separate pleasure from deeper love. Jun will definitely be his choice (yes they're each other's choice). They have a natural bond and he’d feel most comfortable with him in such an intimate situation.

Would Maybe Consider It (But It’s Complicated):

Dokyeom – He’d turn beet red at the suggestion but wouldn’t be completely opposed. But the real problem is he’d get too emotionally attached and overthink things. In my opinion, I think his choice would be Mingyu. It’d feel like a fun, spontaneous thingy with someone he already vibes with.

Vernon – He’d be very nonchalant about it and respond with, “I mean…if you want to.” But deep down, he might not actually care enough to make it happen. Dino would definitely be his choice for a threesome. He’d pick someone who’s also laid-back, so nothing feels awkward.

Dino – He’d need a lot of convincing. He might go for it if it was positioned as a ‘fun experiment,’ but afterward, he’d probably get shy or maybe overthink. His choice will probably be Hoshi. There’s already a strong bond, and it would feel more like a game than anything super serious.

Absolutely Not (Too Loyal, Too Possessive, or Just Not Into It):

Seungcheol – This man is territorial. You are his, end of discussion. Suggesting it might even make him a little jealous and possessive.

Jeonghan – He loves to tease about things like this but would never actually go through with it. Deep down, he’s high-key possessive and wouldn’t want to share you.

Joshua – He’s too traditional and reserved. He doesn’t want to take even a 0.001% risk of anything that could potentially affect the relationship.

Wonwoo – Not necessarily out of jealousy, but he sees sex as something really personal and wouldn’t want you or him to share that level of intimacy with anyone other than each other.

Woozi – He’d be so so uncomfortable with the idea. He’s private and values intimacy in a one-on-one setting.

Seungkwan – Absolutely not. He would take the idea as a personal attack, wondering why he alone isn’t enough for you.

[cambankromyy]

THE ISLAND LOOKOUT (pt.5): 2 to function - (smau & irl au) childhood bsf!rafe cameron x thornton!reader

series masterlist; general masterlist; taglist

about my taglist; ok until this i've been adding people to my taglist even if they didn't use the google form, but since its getting hard to keep track and i don't want to miss anyone, ill only be adding people who submit a google form (linked on my pinned post as well as at the top of every island lookout post). sorry if this is an inconvenience to any!!

part 4- part 5 - part 6

rafe pulled up to roni's house, honking the horn as she took her sweet time coming out. she was late—classic.

when she finally slid into the passenger seat, roni casually pulled out her cart, took a hit, and passed it over to him.without saying a word, she turned her head, blowing the smoke in his direction. rafe rolled his eyes but grabbed the cart out of her hand and took a hit himself.

music was blasting, windows down, the cool air mixing with the haze in the car. it was the perfect vibe—loud, carefree, and like they were in their own world. the drive to target felt like the most natural thing in the world, even if it might’ve been a little dangerous. but hey, they’d done this before. being high wasn’t the same as being drunk. it was fine.

they pulled into target, half-laughing and half-buzzed, like they were on a mission, but also not at all. the whole store was just a blur, with them bouncing between aisles, acting like they owned the place.

after that, they went back to tannyhill, sprawled out on the couch, snacks everywhere. rafe's phone buzzed—it was kelce, calling about something random. before they knew it, it turned into a facetime, and roni took the reins of the conversation.

rafe, needing a break from all the madness, tossed his phone to roni. “here, entertain kelce,” he joked, settling back into the couch. roni grinned and grabbed the phone, instantly hitting screen share. “lets see what he has to hide...” she said as she opened his snapchat memories. each pic was funnier than the last, and she couldn’t help laughing at whatever she found.

then she pressed the "flashbacks from this day" tag at the top, revealing the golden snap from three years ago. rafe, looking extra dramatic, with the caption: “i’m watching you…” roni erupted in laughter, almost dropping the phone. kelce was already cracking up, and the chaos was contagious.

without a second thought, she saved the pic, posted it on kooked.out. the caption reading: “im watching you... #rafeflashbacks.” by the time rafe came back, he saw her still holding his phone, practically on the floor from laughing.

rafe came back into the room, saw her holding his phone, still laughing like a maniac. he raised an eyebrow. “what’d you do?”

roni handed him the phone, the kooked out page with the freshly posted flashback still on the screen.

rafe stared at his phone, confused and starting to go through the comments. “wait, what the hell? why’d you post that?”

she turned back to the phone, still grinning like a maniac. “ok bye kelce, boutta get my ass beat,” she said, cutting the facetime and laughing even harder.

and that was just the beginning. one post turned into another, and suddenly it was a full-on back-and-forth, each one more ridiculous than the last. of course, it wasn’t just them—everyone was watching. the posts blew up, people were commenting, and that only made the whole thing funnier.

they didn’t even think about the consequences— why would they? they were just messing around, having a good time. who cares what might happen when you're high and living the moment with your best, best, friend?

ahaahhhasdjahdj i loved making the posts at the end lollll ok this is for like character developent and next chapter (i think) will be the start of the turning point.

tags under the cut as always, and if u havent, read the notes abt tags at the top to be on my taglist!

tags: @italk2god @angelicameron @marleymarleymarleymarley, @queenvane64, @raeven-marie43 @idiotussupremus @sereneera @yesshewrites1 @inlovewithchriss @ethanthequeefqueen @amterasuu @popou61 @drewsstars @yannew @anothertimegirl @flvredcas @yootvi @mrsdrewstarkeyy @niaunofficial @cooper8224 @rafegetinmybed @pogueprincesa @6r4cie @adalia-lovelace @bee-43 @drewrry @masongetinmybed @defnotayonna @lcversvoid

[iclarye]

NUMBER ONE PARTY ANTHEM | PLAYERS 120 X 246

“Hyunju…” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper as he leans in closer. The faint smell of alcohol lingers between them. “Are you going to miss me? In Thailand?"

pairing: cho hyunju x park gyeongseok

word count: 1.9k

warnings: au - canon divergence, first kiss, drunken kisses, sexual tension, making out.

a/c: english is not my first language! wrote this for ao3 but I decided to post here for my fellow hyunju x gyeongseok lovers!

"I bought the tickets yesterday," Cho Hyunju says at last, blunt and to the point, a small smile on her lips. She doesn’t meet his eyes. "One way only."

She places her drink down slowly, feeling the edges of her tipsiness creeping in. Her vision wavers slightly, and she knows if she isn’t careful, the words will start pouring out of her mouth unchecked. She heads toward the backyard for some fresh air, hearing his footsteps close behind.

“You know, Thailand’s weather is ridiculously hot. And humid.” Gyeongseok says, trying to keep up with Hyunju’s fast pace. "Even for us Koreans."

Hyunju chuckles, unimpressed. She turns to face him, effectively stopping them in the middle of the hallway. “I know that. You and Geumja don’t need to remind me every second.”

He laughs along with her, leaning against the wall and taking another swig from his bottle. “Hyunju," he said with relish, rolling it around on his tongue, his words slurring just enough to reveal how drunk he is. His shirt undone at the top, revealing a flush chest, no doubt from all the soju he’s had. He sways slightly, his voice dripping as he teases, “Who’s gonna protect you if you go to Thailand alone?”

It’s a rhetorical question, almost a joke, despite their unspoken agreement to not talk about the games too much and drag the mood down during social gatherings, Gyeonseok can’t help himself. So often his thoughts would drift to Hyunju and her skill with guns. He wanted to ask her about it, to tell her how impressed he was with her.

He wanted to know her more.

Hyunju shakes her head, laughing more freely. He steps closer, and for a second, she thinks he might stumble and fall into her. She reaches out, steadying him with a hand on his chest and then grabbing his bottle. “You are drunk.”

He smirks, he wasn’t that drunk. “So, are you actually leaving then?”

“Gyeonseok…” Hyunju falters, and she looks away. She doesn’t understand exactly why it’s so hard and embarrassing to tell him about the plane tickets. Going to Thailand has been her goal, her dream, that’s why she went through that hell, that’s why she survived. Yet, looking at his eyes and telling him she’s going away make the words stick to her throat. “I-“

He sees this as an answer itself and nods, running a hand through his head and the other in his waist, he lets the silence stretch for a minute before saying a little lower. “I’m gonna miss you.”

Hyunju lifted her head and tilted it, almost like she didn’t get the words right, that she was imagining the whole interaction. She pursues her lips, wanting to say something, anything. “I-“

He cleaned his throat, his hand going to the back of his neck. She sees how the red in his exposed chest got a little more vibrant, she doesn’t think it’s the alcohol this time. “I mean, we’re all gonna miss you… You know.”

Hyunju nods her head then, giving him a little smile. “Yeah, yeah.” She says, a little chuckle leaving her lips.

Gyeonseok was by no means a talkative person. Neither was she. They rarely spoke about their times in the games. She never asked him why he had saved her, and he never asked her about Youngmi. Hyunju often thought that if she hadn’t run into him at that public park, she wouldn’t have reached out, or even come close to the kind of relationship they had now.

Or whatever they had between them.

He steps closer, leaving the wall behind to stand face-to-face with her. His arm moves slowly, his hand brushing lightly against her fingers as he takes the bottle from her grip. Without a word, he tilts it back and finishes what’s left of the alcohol.

At this closer distance, Hyunju sees more than the tired eyes and dark circles that seem to brand every survivor of the games, haunted by nightmares and memories they’d rather forget. Those were things she’d grown used to seeing. But now, she notices the fresh trim of his beard and how his hair is longer, like hers. Yet he’s changed in other ways, too. He seems lighter somehow, maybe even happier.

She tells herself she’ll feel that way soon, too. In Thailand.

“Hyunju…” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper as he leans in closer. The faint smell of alcohol lingers between them. She tilts her head instinctively, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Are you going to miss me? In Thailand?"

Her nervous chuckle escapes before she can stop it, her eyes darting everywhere but his face. “Phones exist,” she says, her voice wavering slightly, trying to sound dismissive. “I can always call you.”

“That’s not what I asked you,” He says, a smirk playing on his lips. Hyunju can’t help but look before quickly averting her eyes again. “Are you gonna miss me?”

She doesn’t know why it’s so hard to say yes. Of course she’s going to miss him, it should be an easy answer. if Geumja asked her the same question, she wouldn’t feel that nervous. But then again, the way she’ll miss the old woman isn’t the same as the way she’ll miss Gyeongseok.

She stays silent then, unable to meet his gaze. He let out a soft sign and his grin widened, like he’s been reading her mind all along. And maybe he can. For once, Hyunju wishes she’d had more to drink, enough to blame the flush on her cheeks on the alcohol rather than the proximity of him.

He sets the empty bottle on a nearby desk, then lifts a hand to her jaw. His fingers brush her skin lightly as he tilts her face up to meet his eyes. His voice is soft. "No?"

She finally looks into his eyes and swallows hard, her gaze dragging across his face. The tired shadows beneath his eyes, the sharp angles of his cheekbones, the curve of his nose, and then his lips. Her attention sticks there, her head shaking in response to his question, though her focus remains locked on his mouth.

His finger moves to her chin, a firmer touch now, guiding her focus back to him. He wets his lips once, and for a moment, Hyunju is certain he’s about to say something. But his eyes speak instead, asking for permission.

She nods, once, then again, her breath catching as it leaves her lungs.

And then he kisses her.

At first, it’s soft, almost hesitant. His hand cradles her jaw as he leads the kiss, his movements careful, aware of her nervousness. He can feel it in the way her hands stay at her sides, her fingers fidgeting anxiously like she always does. So, when he pulls back to breathe, he’s half expecting her to step away, maybe slap him in the face and run to the main room where the others are still laughing and drinking. He fears this might be the last time he’ll see her like this.

But then she kisses him.

This time, it’s stronger, more certain. The sudden intensity catches him off guard, and their teeth clash briefly before he adjusts, tilting his head to find the right angle. Her hands move, one to the back of his neck, the other to his shoulder, and the warmth of her touch sends a spark through him. His body responds instinctively, heat rising with every second. He wants more. He wants her.

The kiss deepens, growing heated as Gyeongseok lets himself push his tongue into her mouth. Hyunju responds instinctively, a soft moan escaping her as she steps closer, her body leaning into his.

When they finally pull away, both are breathless. Gyeongseok wears a foolish grin, unable to help himself as he takes in Hyunju’s flushed face and slightly swollen lips. He leans in for another kiss, but she presses a hand to his chest, stopping him.

“Someone’s going to see us,” she murmurs, her voice trembling slightly.

And she’s right. From the hallway, the sound of loud, drunken conversations and bottles clinking fills the air. Anyone could walk out and catch them at any moment, they’re lucky that it didn’t happen yet. But Gyeongseok doesn’t care. Not even a little. His grin softens into something more playful, his voice low as he replies, “I couldn’t care less.”

So he kissed her again, his hand slipping to the back of her head to guide her. This kiss is different—dirtier, wilder than the ones before. Hyunju doesn’t hesitate this time, her tongue meeting his with the same urgency, and she steps closer, sliding her thigh between his legs to pull him against her. Gyeongseok lets out a muffled moan, the sound escaping before he can stop it, and he has to break the kiss to catch his breath. Hyunju chuckles softly, amused by his reaction.

Gyeonseok is glad that they’re the same height because he can lean his forehead against her shoulder. Their shared breathlessness becomes a quiet moment of understanding before he turns his head slightly, pressing gentle kisses along the curve of her neck. Hyunju bites her lip, trying to stifle the noise threatening to escape her throat.

“I think we need to stop,” he murmurs, lifting his head from her shoulder and letting his lips trail along her jawline. The words feel like a betrayal to his own desires. He really doesn’t want to, He doesn’t want to stop, not when every part of him craves her. But the tightness in his pants is a stark reminder of how much this moment is affecting him, and he knows they’re at risk of losing control entirely.

Hyunju laughs more freely now, her hair a little messy and her lips swollen from the intensity of the kisses. Gyeongseok wonders if his lips look the same, but he doesn't ask. “Yeah,” she says softly, taking her legs between his and stepping back.

He follows her, pressing one more kiss to her lips, his hand resting on her waist. This time, it’s soft, tender, and even sweet. “You know,” he murmurs, pulling away from the kiss and creating some distance between them, “there’s this nice restaurant I know…”

“I would love to,” Hyunju responds, but then she looks down, avoiding his gaze. Her playful smirk makes his heart skip a beat. “This time you’ll be sober,” she teases, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I’m not…” Gyeongseok turns toward the wall, staring at it as he adjusts his pants. “I’m not that drunk. This wasn’t a drunk decision. I knew exactly what I was doing.” His voice shifts, a little more serious now.

He glances back at her, a smile tugging at his lips. “Maybe the alcohol just gave me courage,” he says with a shrug. “Next Monday, you’re still gonna be here?”

Hyunju answers his question without hesitation, but she doesn’t respond to his earlier deflation, even if the sparkling of her eyes tell everything about what she thinks. "Yeah, 12:00?"

“Alright,” he says, a grin spreading across his face. He heads for the door to the main living room but pauses before leaving. “Gonna come? Or need some fresh air?”

She wants to go with him, to stay at his side just a little longer, but after everything that just happened, she knows she needs a moment alone to catch her breath. “Fresh air. I’ll be there in a minute.”

He nods, walking toward the door before pausing and looking over his shoulder. “Oh, and Gyeongseok?” she calls softly.

“What?”

“Thailand’s not that far away, and the tickets are really cheap,” she says, watching as confusion flashes across his face before realization settles in. A smirk spreads across his lips.

“Just so you know,” she adds with a teasing smile, “if you want to visit me.”

[uriekukistan]

megumi and mahoraga: understanding megumi’s strategy & dismantling the jokes

i think one of the biggest misconceptions about megumi’s character is that he is a trigger happy loose cannon that is willing to throw his life away at any inconvenience. so for this post, i want to help in understanding the strategy in which megumi employs what he thinks for most of the story is his “ace in the hole,” his secret weapon that will ensure his victory, even if it comes with his death.

mostly, i’m just sick of the mahoraga jokes, and megumi being the butt of 85% of the jokes in this fandom in general, as well as the bum allegations, etc. megumi is not as weak or as reckless as a lot of people think, and i will have more to say about this soon🤞

in order to do this, i’ll be unpacking each time he allegedly attempted to summon mahoraga, including some false allegations as well.

against potential sukuna in ch1

at this point, megumi is unsure of a lot of things. he’s unsure of if he’s talking to yuuji or sukuna. he’s unsure of how powerful sukuna, the legendary king of curses, truly is. he’s unsure of how yuuji or sukuna will react to him attempting to kill them. he’s already seen how strong yuuji is without sukuna, so it’s reasonable (and correct) to assume that with sukuna’s power, he could easily take out megumi and all of his shikigami easily.

another thing to consider is that megumi is seriously injured, and likely concussed, which would impact his ability to maintain and control his shikigami. already, he’s been unable to summon nue, and his divine dogs have disappeared.

in a case where he is up against a special grade(+) curse with unknown power just in a single finger, and he is injured and unable to maintain his other shikigami, he pulls out his secret weapon because he doesn’t want to be responsible for sukuna going rampant in sendai, so even if he dies, he’ll have trapped sukuna in this ritual that would likely kill him too.

against sukuna (again) in ch9

sukuna is now 3x as strong as he was the first time megumi encountered him, and megumi has attempted to fight him both with his fists and his shikigami. he knows that his severely overpowered. he was already pushed to his limit by saving kugisaki as well. he’s lost two of his shikigami in one day, and nue is at its limit, he notes.

he knows there’s not much more he can do, but he still needs to stop sukuna because, again, he needs to take responsibility for both itadori eating the finger and saving his life. the only thing he has left is mahoraga. again, it makes perfect sense. he has no remaining options, but he knows what must be done.

the next three are played up in the anime, but in the manga, it’s more vague. i won’t spend much time on them because it’s purely speculative.

(alleged) against todo in ch17

this never happened, and while it was played up like he was going to in the anime, i just don’t get why. he would never have summoned mahoraga against todo. megumi is a cautious fighter and does only what’s necessary, saving and building his energy as necessary (this is a different post). he also is trying to avoid conflict as much as possible in this scene, so there’s no reason why he would summon mahoraga here.

(alleged) against hanami in ch46 & ch47

something else that i think was more clear in the anime, but vague in the manga.

in ch46, his hands are near the position, and he is thinking about how much stronger hanami is compared to inumaki, arguably the strongest (or at least rated highest) out of the three sorcerers there (megumi, inumaki, and kamo). it’s possible that he was about to summon mahoraga, but again, he realizes at this point that he’s severely overpowered. kamo has gone down. he thinks that inumaki is finished too. it’s just him and this curse he can’t hold a candle too. he figures if he’s going to die anyway, that he might as well try to take hanami out with him.

this thought process is developed more in ch47. he says he needs to use “everything he’s got” because “it’s inexcusable that he be the first to go down.” he’s concerned about his burden and responsibility, and doesn’t want to be the reason why more people get hurt. so since hanami’s curse will already kill him if he uses more jujutsu, he refuses to be the only one who goes down.

against the finger-bearer in ch58

again, it’s a similar situation to others that he’s been in. he’s cornered, severely injured, overpowered, and his shikigami are not holding up as a match against the finger bearer. he even thinks ahead of summoning mahoraga that he might die.

plus, it’s more serious than “if i’m going to die, i’m taking you with me.” it’s tsumiki who’s at stake, as well as kugisaki and itadori, who are nearby. he needs this curse to be exorcized. ultimately, he chooses to use his domain expansion for the first time instead.

against toji in ch113

he only briefly considers it (or so it seems). but one thing the anime does a horrible job of showing is that megumi is nearly burnt out of cursed energy, mainly from holding his domain in dagon’s domain (understandable, considering that’s such an impressive feat. he held it for a long time too). he’s also injured, so much so that he’s saying he’ll need to go to shoko if he can get away, which brings me into The Mahoraga Summoning.

against haruta in ch117

every time i see people talk about this, it’s always “why did he pull out mahoraga against this nobody?” i mean, it’s exactly the reasons i just mentioned. after fighting toji, he’s nearly completely burnt out of energy, and on top of that, he’s injured. he’s actually on his way to see shoko before he gets stabbed by haruta. he’s barely able to walk.

megumi is out of options. he can hardly stand for the summoning ritual. how is he supposed to fight off anyone, nobody or not? his one weapon he has left is mahoraga. he knows sukuna is out and about. he knows he can’t let haruta walk away from this. it’s the same thought process. “i’m going to die, so i’m going to take you with me.”

against sukuna in ch212

this seems like the most self-explanatory, in my opinion. seriously, what is he supposed to do against 15 fingers worth of sukuna? i love megumi, and i will argue up and down that he’s very strong, and severely underestimated by the fandom, but against 15 fingers of sukuna? maki and yuuji, who are both around the same level as megumi in terms of strength, couldn’t take down 15 finger sukuna TOGETHER. megumi alone doesn’t stand a chance.

again, it comes back to his sense of responsibility. he was the one who saved yuuji, and allowed this to happen. it’s why he says “it’s our fault,” to yuuji. so he takes responsibility for taking sukuna down.

ultimately, megumi’s use of mahoraga is incredibly strategic. he only pulls it out in situations where he absolutely has no other options. it’s also an extension of his sense of responsibility, in many cases, particularly regarding sukuna. he was the one who saved yuuji, so he has to be the one to take down sukuna. finally, he doesn’t want to lose. he says that before the kyoto goodwill event, but i think he meant it as an overall statement. if he dies, he will be taking his opponent with him.

megumi is not trigger happy. he’s not a loose cannon. he’s not reckless with his life. he makes calculated moves that align with his goals and motivations.

[caitified]

baby fever 🐣

sabrina ionescu x reader

warnings: talk of ivf ish

part 2 here

after the buzzer rang, signaling another liberty win, you watched sabrina walk off the court, her usual focused expression replaced with that easy smile she saved for post-game moments.

you had been dating for a few years now, engaged for a few months, and every time you saw her on the court, it still filled you with pride. but tonight, something else was catching your attention.

as the players started winding down, you noticed sabrina make her way over to the minnesota lynx bench, where napheesa stood with her daughter, mila, perched on her hip. you smiled at the sight, watching as sabrina’s face lit up when mila reached out for her. sabrina took the little girl into her arms without hesitation, easily switching into a softer, playful version of herself.

“hey, mila,” sabrina cooed, bouncing the toddler gently.

you walked over, standing just off to the side as sabrina spun mila around, her joy infectious. napheesa chuckled, watching her daughter have the time of her life in sabrina’s arms. “you’re gonna have to babysit sometime, you know,” napheesa joked.

sabrina grinned. “anytime. mila’s too cute to say no to.”

you stood there, watching them interact, your heart doing little flips. seeing sabrina like this—so gentle and patient with mila, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she made silly faces to keep the girl laughing—made something stir inside you.

baby fever.

it wasn’t the first time the thought had crossed your mind, but tonight, it hit you harder than usual. you and Sabrina had talked about the future, about building a life together. and now, seeing her with mila, the idea of having a family with her felt so real, so close. you could imagine her holding your own child with the same ease, the same love and care.

sabrina caught your eye then, her expression softening even more when she saw you watching her. “hey, babe,” she called, beckoning you over with a nod of her head. “come meet my friend.”

you walked over, smiling as mila reached out toward you. sabrina handed her over, your hands carefully supporting the little girl as she settled into your arms.

“isn’t she the cutest?” sabrina said, stepping closer and resting her arm around your waist.

“she really is,” you agreed, glancing down at mila, who was busy examining your face with wide eyes.

sabrina leaned in, her voice a little lower. “you’re a natural with her, you know that?”

you felt your chest tighten in the best way. “you’re pretty great with her yourself,” you murmured back, meeting her eyes. there was something unspoken between you in that moment, a shared understanding of where your thoughts were headed.

as napheesa came to collect mila, sabrina squeezed your waist, pulling you close as you watched them walk away. you turned toward her, smiling softly. “so… you’re good with kids, huh?”

sabrina shrugged, but her smile told you everything. “i’ve had practice with mila,” she said, her eyes flicking up to yours. “why? you thinking about something?”

you couldn’t help but grin, your heart racing a little. “maybe.”

sabrina raised an eyebrow, her smile turning into that teasing grin you loved so much. “yeah? you thinking what I’m thinking?”

you took a deep breath, leaning into her, your forehead resting against hers. “i think… i’m ready to talk about it. you and me… maybe a little one someday.”

sabrina’s eyes softened, and she kissed your temple gently. “someday sounds pretty perfect.”

guys i really want to write part 2 where they have a baby lmk what you think

[novasintheroom]

123. Desire

♡ Pairing - Vash x Reader

♡ Word count - 1.4k

♡ Warnings - none

♡ Description: Vash slowly realizes that he wants to be yours.

Part of the 150 Bullets drabble series on AO3 (will post there and add link once AO3 is back up)

It comes up first one hot day in the town of Gargantan.

The bag of doughnuts crinkles in your grip as you weave through the morning bustle, heading toward the column of red at the end of the street. Vash knows he’s in trouble as soon as he smells it. You walk up to him, already giving a strange look. “What’s did you get?” You ask.

Vash laughs nervously. He keeps the two bags of doughnuts he already bought behind his back. “Just some bullets!”

You sniff the air. Lean forward and brush his cheeks with your fingertips. It comes away with powdered sugar. “Vash, did you get more doughnuts?”

He feels his stomach clench with guilt and hunger. Looking down, he gives a sheepish smile. “I just…wanted to try that other shop too.”

“Vash,” your mouth works, words forming and dissolving as you think of what to say. You’re fighting a smile. “We agreed we only had enough fun money for one bag of doughnuts.”

“I know.”

“We have three bags of doughnuts now, birdie.”

“I know,” he says again. He pouts, wondering what got into him. He’s usually much better about his money, but, lately, being with you…he feels…he doesn’t know. Like it’s okay to get food again. Even if it hurts the wallet a bit. “Hey, we don’t have to split a doughnut now, though! Look,” he pulls out a chocolate glazed doughnut, then another. “Two for one! BOGO!”

“You’re such a problem,” you groan.

He knows you’re joking. He knows. But something inside him shudders, and he wants to fix it. Make you feel better after his mistake. “Well, I’m your problem.” He says it as a joke. Tests the waters. See if there’s blood in them.

Your smile is genuine as you punch him in the shoulder, hitting the plating of his arm. “Yeah, you are. Heaven help me, but you are. Now give me a doughnut.”

The stirring of crickets in his stomach is the only warning he has of what’s to come. Your problem, he smiles, handing you a jelly-filled doughnut and eating his second with you. He likes the sound of that.

--

He toys with the idea. Handles it around and around in his head like a child with a very delicate antique, so clumsy with his hands but knowing how special it is.

It comes up again.

Nothing goes right all day, and by the end of it, you’re both tired and in a bad mood. Camping out in a buried, derelict ship is the last thing either of you want right now, but the ghost stories will keep the locals away. You set up your sleeping gear nearby. No fire tonight; there’s too many eyes searching for you two.

Vash can feel the breeze blowing through the holes of the ship. Cool, cool air that will turn to ice once the suns fully set. He looks over at you and sees the goosebumps rising on your arms, eyes picking out each individual hair standing on end. Vash chews the inside of his cheek. “Wanna sleep closer?”

It takes a moment for you to register he’s talking. Blinking, you look up. “Hm? What?”

 “Do you want to sleep closer tonight? For warmth, I mean.”

Your eyes flit across his face. You’ve always been a fan of your personal space. Vash isn’t sure you’ll accept. Then, you shrug. “Sure. Why not.”

The day must have really taken it out of you for you to say ‘yes,’ but Vash isn’t complaining. You drag your stuff over to his and set up sluggishly. “I’m mad about what that mayor said to you on the way out,” you say, baring your feelings like you do, always an open book. “He shouldn’t have called you that. Especially after we saved his daughter.”

He doesn’t feel like talking about it, a fresh wound on his heart that will heal anyway. So he hums and lays down. “I’m just glad we got away before they pulled out the whips. That was…weird.”

You laugh and scoot over to his side, and Vash can feel your warmth. “You think they’re into the freaky stuff?”

He laughs with you and shakes his head. He’s about to respond when you curl up next to him and place your head on his shoulder. Mouth drying out, a strange feeling in the back of his throat forms. You press your side shyly closer into his.

“You don’t mind being my pillow for tonight, right?” You mumble it, and he can hear the embarrassment in your tone. This is hard for you.

He clears his throat and says, “Nah, it’s fine. I’m all yours.”

It goes quiet, and Vash wonders if he said the wrong thing. But then your breathing evens out, and he realizes you’re asleep. The day really took it out of you, then. Carefully, he brings his arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer. He doesn’t want you getting cold. “Yeah,” he mumbles, “all yours.”

--

What exactly is it that he wants?

You ask him this on the road. The suns are cresting some cliffs to the side, fall season turning the temperatures just a bit cooler – only just. And he says, “For love and peace to rule.” Typical.

“But what do you want? When love and peace is achieved and everyone’s happy?” You walk ahead of him, minding your steps, toeing an invisible line, kicking pebbles off to the side. “What do you want to be?”

He watches. Your figure curves as you bend over to pick up a white rock, throwing it up in the air and catching it again. You handle it, looking at the tiny crystals within that make it sparkle in the light. A habit of yours, he’s noticed – how you handle everything and everyone carefully, twisting them this way and that to find their hidden facets. You do it with him all the time. You’re doing it now, digging into his psyche, making him wonder about his own desires and wants. His eyes trace the shape of your lips as they purse.

Vash shakes out of his stupor when you glance at him, waiting for an answer. “I’ll probably be some kind of Plant engineer. Keep my sisters safe and healthy.” After all, what else is there for someone like him?

“Do you want to be an artist? An historian? You can’t just be an engineer all the time. What else do you want to be?”

His lips curve up. “I’ll still be with you, right? You’ve got the historian and artist bit down for the both of us.”

You groan and throw the rock away. The sands eat it up instantly, lost once again to the dunes of time. “Without leaning on me, Vash.” You look at him, eyes roving over his face for something he isn’t sure of. “When everything else is stripped away and accomplished, what do you want to be?”

Something in his chest erupts into butterflies. He knows the answer, cheesy as it is. Yours, yours, yours, his heart murmurs. I want to be yours.

--

It comes out in the quiet hours of the night, between dusk and midnight.

Your kisses are slow, sensual. He can’t get enough. The soft sand underneath, the cave overhead, the glow of worms in the distant sky through the mouth. You’re safe. He’s safe. His hands rove your sides, traveling under your shirt to massage the tender skin at your ribs. Your own hands travel from his neck to his stomach, back to his hair, feeling, feeling.

In a pause, a way to catch your breath, you look up at him in the blue gloom and grin. Your eyes are so full of love, twinkling like close stars. “Vash,” you murmur, petting your hand through his hair, tugging at the ends, his growing undercut. Your chests heave together, touching then retracting. Your nails scratch gently behind his ear, and goosebumps hike up his neck. “My Vash.”

It sends a shiver up and down his spine. Yes, this is what it is; this is what he has been searching for. And he should say something like ‘my mayfly,’ but what tumbles out of his kiss-swollen lips is, “Your Vash. Yours.”

Your laugh is deep and happy. He surges forward to catch it, feel it in his mouth as he kisses you again and again. “Yours,” he keeps murmuring, settling it in his own head, his own heart. “All yours. I’m yours.”

This is what he wants to be.

A place to belong. A place in your arms.

Yours.