#It's not an ACTUAL complaint but you know

[heejamas]

nicest guy: 26. just close the door

word count: ~1.3k words + 8 screenshots

warnings: profanity, sexual jokes, weed consumption, alcohol consumption, jake and hoon hate each other, lil bit voyeurish (spoilers), very suggestive

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You don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath until you hear the floor creak outside your bedroom. The muffled sounds of FIFA commentary and Jay’s loud complaints about Sunghoon “playing like a coward” still fill the living room, but you know he’s near. You told him to come find you, and now you’re waiting, stomach twisting with anticipation.

Then, a soft knock.

"Are you gonna let me in, or was that just a power play?" His voice is low, teasing, but there’s an edge to it—a quiet challenge.

You smirk, crossing your arms. "You found my door. Congratulations. Now what?"

"Depends," he says, already pushing it open just enough to slip inside. "You locking it or am I?"

His eyes meet yours, dark and amused. He’s standing too close, just barely inside the room, like he’s testing the waters. You roll your eyes and kick the door shut with your foot, reaching over to twist the lock.

Sunghoon grins. "Oh, so this is what we’re doing?"

"You’re the one who came."

He lets out a low chuckle, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie as he leans back against the door. "You told me to."

"And you listened."

He raises a brow. "Of course I did."

The tension in the room is immediate, thick enough that you can almost hear it buzzing between you. Every single detail feels too much—the way he’s watching you, the slow, lazy way he shifts his weight, the sharp line of his jaw when he smirks like that.

You should not be thinking about his jaw.

"So?" you say, forcing yourself to move, sitting on the edge of your bed, pretending your heart isn’t hammering in your chest. "How’d you even escape? Jungwon hates losing."

Sunghoon scoffs, pushing off the door. "I told them I had to take a call."

"A call?"

"A very urgent one." He leans down, bracing himself on your bed, his face way too close to yours. "From you."

You snort. "You’re ridiculous."

"You love it."

You tilt your head, biting your lip. "That’s a strong word."

"But not an incorrect one."

You laugh, shaking your head, but before you can reply, he reaches out and tugs at the hem of your hoodie. His fingers brush against the fabric, just barely ghosting over your skin. It’s such a small movement, but it sends a jolt of electricity straight through you.

You freeze. He doesn’t move away.

Your breath hitches, and when you glance up, his eyes are already on your lips.

"Y’know," he murmurs, his voice lower now, rougher. "You never told me why you wanted me here."

You swallow. "Maybe I just wanted to see you."

"Maybe?"

"Maybe," you whisper.

He gets closer, and suddenly, you’re very aware of the fact that there’s barely any space left between you. Your back hits the edge of your mattress, and he leans in, just enough for you to catch the scent of his cologne—something clean, slightly sweet, dizzying.

"Are you nervous?" he asks.

You scoff. "Of you?"

"Of this," he murmurs.

You should say no. You should roll your eyes and laugh and tell him he’s full of himself. But you can’t, because the truth is, you are nervous. Nervous of how badly you want this. You wet your lips. His gaze flickers down again, his breath coming a little sharper now.

"You keep looking at me like that," you murmur, "and I might start thinking you actually want to kiss me."

He exhales a quiet laugh. "Maybe I do."

"Maybe?"

"Maybe," he echoes, eyes dark. "You gonna let me?"

You should tease him. You should make him suffer for it, drag this moment out longer just because you can. But you don’t. You don’t want to.

Instead, you grab the front of his hoodie and pull.

Sunghoon crashes into you, his hands finding your waist as his lips meet yours—soft at first, hesitant, like he’s testing the waters. But then you sigh against his mouth, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie, and that’s it. He groans, deep and low, tilting his head as he kisses you harder, more desperate now, like he’s been holding back for too long.

You melt against him, letting him press you back onto the bed, his weight warm and solid above you. His hands splay across your hips, fingers digging in slightly like he doesn’t want to let go. You gasp when he bites at your bottom lip, and he laughs, pulling away just enough to murmur, "I knew you’d like it."

You smack his arm. "Shut up."

"Make me."

So you do.

Your fingers tangle in Sunghoon’s hair as he kisses you deeper, his hands sliding down to your waist, pulling you impossibly close. There’s nothing hesitant about it anymore—he kisses you like he’s making up for lost time, like he’s been thinking about this for way too long. And maybe he has.

His tongue brushes against yours, and you swear you feel him smirk when you let out a tiny, breathless sigh.

"Cocky," you murmur against his lips.

He hums, nipping at your bottom lip again, his grip on your hips tightening just slightly. "You like it."

You do. God, you do.

Your back hits the mattress as he leans over you, his weight warm and solid, the room suddenly too hot and too small. His lips trail down, moving along your jaw, just below your ear, and your breath hitches when you feel him grin against your skin.

"Sunghoon," you whisper.

"Hm?"

He’s still kissing you, still touching you, and you know you should tell him to slow down—should remind him that he literally has an audience waiting in the next room—but it’s hard to think straight when he’s right here, making you feel like you’re the only thing that matters.

His hands slip under the hem of your hoodie, just barely grazing your skin, and you swear you feel him shiver.

And then—

"BRO WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?"

Sunghoon freezes.

Jay’s voice. From the living room. Loud. Suspicious.

Then comes Jungwon: "YOU’RE LITERALLY SUPPOSED TO BE TAKING A CALL?!"

Sunghoon’s forehead drops against your shoulder.

"Oh my god," you whisper, biting your lip to keep from laughing.

"I hate them," he mutters, voice muffled against your hoodie.

"You should probably go before they come looking for you."

Sunghoon groans, but he still doesn’t move. His hands are still on your waist, his knee is still pressed between your legs, and his breath is still fanning over your neck, making it very difficult to think about anything else.

And then—

"BRO, IF YOU’RE IN THE BATHROOM, AT LEAST FLUSH!"

Taesan, this time.

Sunghoon jumps up so fast he almost falls off the bed.

"Those idiots…" He runs a hand through his hair, glaring at the door like he can incinerate them with his mind. You’re dying trying not to laugh.

"You’re the idiot for thinking they wouldn’t notice," you tease, still sprawled out on the bed, watching as he hastily straightens his hoodie.

Sunghoon glares at you. "You’re not helping."

You smirk, propping yourself up on your elbows. "You could just stay here and let them figure it out on their own."

His eyes flicker to your lips, and for a second, you think he’s actually considering it. Sunghoon sighs so dramatically that you have to bury your face in your hands to keep from absolutely losing it.

"This is so unfair," he grumbles, stepping toward the door. Before he unlocks it, though, he glances back at you, eyes dark, lips still red from kissing you.

"Don’t think this is over," he says.

You grin. "Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it."

And with that, he disappears, leaving you lying on your bed, heartbeat still racing, wondering how the hell you’re supposed to act normal after that.

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author's note: OK THAT CHAPTER MADE ME BLUSH. EVEN THOUGH IM THE ONE WHO WROTE IT.... next chapter is out on monday!! after the super bowl... im lowkey rooting for the chiefs ngl.... cry eagles cry....

taglist: @jayparked @jungwonsstrawberriesnchocolate @kixri @soobnuuy @dreamiestay @somuchdard @nyyoryyu @atinyrosedoor @enhaverse713586 @miszes @wildtigerlili @hoonkishoe @wilonevys @m1dn1ghtv1olet @who-tf-soddhi @ilovewonyo @nickiminajleftasscheek @ikeulove @payformycoffeeandleave @jvngw0nlvr @qtke @nikirangs @rairaiblog @tinyteezer @catecita @aespaqq @cyberstephzz @jakesimfromstatefarm @maniluvzyou @stormy1408 @missychief1404 @heevrs @shuichi-sama @enhastars @immelissaaa @pjselee @hexnoia @strawberrieswithchocolateo3o @love-4-keum @doublebunv @minfolio @1-itsneverthatserious-1 @doveblackboat @psychotic-girl-666 @kukkurookkoo @allie-mcginn @jkslvsnella @wintereals @why4anne @jakesfurry 

[hancorys]

the egg project — myung jaehyun

genre: enemies to lovers, idiots to lovers, crack (bonedo dynamics mentioned) pairing: jaehyun x afab!reader wc: 4.6k warning: they're both a mess, non-stop banters. they kissed at the end. fought because of an egg. listen: antukin — rico blanco, i like me better — lauv, gusto ko lamang sa buhay — itchy worms, but i like you — boynextdoor

you don’t even remember the last time you and jaehyun had a normal conversation. not that you ever really did—because for as long as you’ve both been part of your respective sports teams, the only thing you’ve ever exchanged were complaints.

it started with the mess.

“seriously?” you had scoffed one evening, walking into the gym after the basketball team’s practice, only to find discarded water bottles, sweaty towels, and even an empty sports drink bottle rolling across the floor like a sad little tumbleweed.

the volleyball team had practice right after, and nothing pissed you off more than stepping onto a court that looked like a post-apocalyptic wasteland.

so, like any responsible captain, you took it upon yourself to find the root of the problem. and that root had a name: myung jaehyun.

“hey, jaehyun, clean up your team’s mess next time,” you had called out after one of your shared gym sessions.

jaehyun, who was in the middle of chugging a bottle of water, raised a brow at you. “our mess?”

“yes, yours.” you gestured to the abandoned pile of trash near the bench. “you leave the place looking like a hurricane hit.”

he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and shrugged. “not my fault you’re allergic to a little dirt.”

“not my fault you guys are allergic to basic hygiene.”

leehan, who had been dribbling a basketball nearby, snorted. “dude, she’s got a point.”

“whose side are you on?” jaehyun shot him a glare before turning back to you. “we don’t even leave that much of a mess.”

you let out a short laugh, stepping forward and kicking an empty bottle toward him. it rolled to a stop right by his foot. “oh yeah? then whose bottle is this?”

sungho, who had just been passing by, took one look at the scene and immediately pointed at jaehyun. “definitely his.”

jaehyun gave him a betrayed look. “are you serious?”

“i mean, statistically speaking, it’s more likely to be yours than mine,” sungho said with a lazy shrug. “i actually clean up after myself.”

“that’s a lie and you know it.”

“okay, but do i leave sports drink graveyards on the court? no.”

you crossed your arms and smirked. “see? even your own team thinks you’re the problem.”

jaehyun groaned, bending down to pick up the bottle before lazily tossing it into the trash can. “there. happy now?”

“ecstatic,” you deadpanned. “now do that, but every time.”

from then on, it became an ongoing battle. jaehyun’s team kept leaving behind their junk, and your team kept glaring at them from across the gym. you never actually fought, not really, but there was an unspoken war between the two of you—one built entirely on glares, sarcastic remarks, and aggressively wiping down volleyballs while jaehyun walked past you like he owned the place.

one time, after another particularly messy practice, you had stormed into the basketball team’s locker room, ignoring the immediate groans and complaints from the players inside.

“again?” you huffed, pointing toward the gym doors. “why do i have to keep reminding you guys to pick up after yourselves?”

leehan, who was in the middle of changing into a fresh jersey, blinked at you. “damn, i thought we locked the door.”

“she probably kicked it open,” riwoo muttered, adjusting his towel around his neck.

jaehyun, who was seated on the bench, barely looked up as he tied his shoelaces. “maybe if your team spent less time complaining and more time training, you’d actually win more games.”

your jaw dropped. “excuse me?”

he finally glanced up, a teasing glint in his eyes. “just saying.”

taesan whistled lowly. “oh, you’re dead.”

woonhak patted jaehyun’s shoulder like he was saying his final goodbyes. “it was nice knowing you, man.”

you took a deep breath, shaking your head as you turned on your heel. “you know what? forget it. next time i see even one of your bottles on that floor, i’m chucking it at your head.”

“looking forward to it,” jaehyun called after you, clearly amused.

god, you hated him.

as if the universe wasn’t already laughing at you, things got even worse when your teams had to start training together.

your school had decided that since both the basketball and volleyball teams shared the same gym, you might as well train under the same program for conditioning sessions. this meant early morning drills, weight training, and endurance exercises—together.

it was hell.

not because the training was hard (you could handle that), but because it meant spending more time around him.

the first morning session was already off to a bad start.

“alright, everyone, pair up,” the coach announced. “we’ll be doing partner drills for today’s endurance training.”

immediately, you turned to find one of your teammates, but before you could move, a familiar presence slid up beside you.

“guess we’re stuck together,” jaehyun said, his voice way too chipper for someone who just ran two miles as a warm-up.

you scowled. “who says?”

he gestured around. sure enough, all the pairs had already been formed, leaving you and jaehyun as the only ones unpaired.

“unless you want to run laps alone, i’d say this is fate,” he added, smirking.

you groaned. “curse.”

the drill was simple—one person would hold a plank while the other jumped over them repeatedly. then, you’d switch. simple in theory. infuriating in practice.

you started first, dropping into a plank position while jaehyun jumped over you. the first few were fine. but by the fifth jump, you were sure he was messing with you.

“are you—” you gritted out, arms burning from holding yourself up, “—doing this on purpose?”

jaehyun landed smoothly before hopping over you again. “doing what?”

“jumping so damn slow.”

“you should be thanking me. i’m giving you more time to work on your arm strength.”

you clenched your jaw. “i swear to god—”

“switch!” the coach called.

you got up, shaking out your arms before shooting jaehyun a glare. “watch how it’s actually done.”

he smirked, lowering himself into a plank. “looking forward to it.”

you took a step back, bounced on the balls of your feet, and leapt.

you might’ve landed a little too close to his back.

“jesus—are you trying to kill me?” jaehyun yelped, bracing himself.

“oops,” you said, not looking the least bit sorry.

from then on, training together became a battle of who could annoy the other more.

— 

but the worst part? meal times.

since both teams had the same conditioning schedule, the coaches thought it would be a great idea for you all to eat together in the dining hall. something about team unity and bonding.

you called it suffering.

because every single meal, without fail, jaehyun would find a way to sit across from you.

like today.

“morning, partner.”

you didn’t even look up from your tray of eggs and rice. “go away.”

“nah, i like it here.”

you stabbed at your food aggressively. “why are you like this?”

“like what?” he asked, reaching over to steal a piece of your egg with his fork.

you smacked his hand away. “like that!”

leehan, seated next to jaehyun, chuckled. “dude, one day she’s gonna actually throw hands.”

“and i’ll be ready,” jaehyun said, grinning at you.

you rolled your eyes, turning your attention back to your food, determined to ignore him. but then—

clink.

you glanced up. jaehyun had casually placed his sports drink on your side of the table.

you frowned. “what?”

he smirked. “just marking my territory.”

sungho nearly choked on his juice. “bro, that sounds so wrong.”

taesan snickered. “he means his half of the table.”

you glared. “i hate you all.”

━

and then there was the winking.

the first time he did it, you thought it was an accident.

the second time, you realized it definitely wasn’t.

but by the fifth time? you were convinced he was just doing it to piss you off.

during games, during practice, even in the hallways—jaehyun had made it his personal mission to wink at you whenever he got the chance.

like during one of their practice matches.

you had been forced to stay behind in the gym, waiting for your team’s turn. so, unfortunately, you had a front-row seat to watching jaehyunshow off.

you sat on the bleachers, arms crossed, watching as jaehyun dribbled past a defender with ridiculous ease. he moved with that effortless confidence, quick on his feet, spinning past his opponent before driving straight to the basket.

the ball swished through the hoop, nothing but net. his teammates erupted into cheers.

jaehyun turned, scanning the gym, and then—

wink.

you scowled immediately. “oh, for fuck’s sake.”

your teammate, yuna, who was sitting beside you, snorted. “what is his problem?”

“he is the problem,” you muttered, gripping your water bottle with unnecessary force.

yuna hummed, clearly entertained. “you know, for someone who ‘hates’ him, you sure do pay a lot of attention.”

“i have to! someone needs to keep his ego in check.”

as if to prove your point, jaehyun jogged back to his side of the court, smug as ever, and made direct eye contact with you again.

you knew what was coming.

another wink.

you groaned dramatically, throwing your head back. “i hate him.”

woonhak, who had overheard from the bench, grinned. “that’s funny, ‘cause he sure loves pissing you off.”

you shot him a glare. “gee, really? hadn’t noticed.”

━

the winking didn’t stop. if anything, it got worse.

during practice, in the dining hall, even when you passed him in the hallways—he somehow found a way to send you that stupid, infuriating wink.

like today, after your volleyball practice.

you had just finished a brutal set of drills, sweat dripping down your back, when you spotted the basketball team lingering near the entrance. they must’ve been waiting for their turn in the gym.

and, of course, jaehyun was right at the front.

you barely spared him a glance as you grabbed your water bottle from the bench, but that didn’t stop him.

“looking good, captain,” he called out.

you narrowed your eyes. “shut up, jaehyun.”

he laughed, raising his hands in surrender before winking.

you swore you saw red.

leehan, standing beside him, sighed. “dude, what if she actually kills you?”

“nah,” jaehyun said, grinning, “i think she’d miss me too much.”

you threw your towel at his face.

━

but as much as you hated to admit it, life was never boring with jaehyun around.

even when the two of you were forced into situations that made you want to rip your hair out—like the latest disaster your biology professor had cooked up.

the day had started out normal enough. until you got your test results back.

you stared at the glaring red F on your biology test, feeling your soul leave your body.

beside you, jaehyun whistled, holding up his own paper with an identical F. “ouch.”

you turned to glare at him. “why are you failing?”

he shrugged. “dunno. wasn’t paying attention.”

“of course you weren’t.”

before you could spiral into a full-blown academic crisis, your professor cleared his throat, looking way too pleased for someone who had just failed half the class.

“since many of you didn’t do well on the test,” he began, eyes twinkling mischievously, “i’ve decided to give you all an opportunity to redeem yourselves.”

murmurs filled the classroom. you remained suspicious.

“you will be given a partner—someone who also failed.”

you immediately got a bad feeling.

“together, you will complete an assignment on responsibility and care. an experiment, if you will.”

you glanced at jaehyun, who looked just as confused.

the professor smiled. “for the next week, you will take care of an egg.”

silence.

then—

“a what.”

the professor clasped his hands together. “an egg! consider it a simulation of caring for a delicate, fragile life. you must protect it at all costs and document your progress. and, of course, your partner will be chosen randomly.”

your stomach dropped.

and then—

“y/n and jaehyun,” the professor announced.

you slammed your head onto your desk.

jaehyun, meanwhile, let out a low whistle. “well. this should be fun.”

you turned your head slightly to glare at him, cheek still pressed against the desk. “i swear to god, if you break our egg, i’m breaking you.”

he grinned. “relax, partner. we’ve got this.”

you groaned. “this is literally my worst nightmare.”

jaehyun leaned back, crossing his arms. “nah. your worst nightmare is me leaving the gym extra messy just for you.”

you lifted your head just enough to glare at him. “don’t test me.”

he winked.

you nearly flipped your desk.

“now listen carefully,” your professor continued. “your assignment is simple. you must keep your egg safe for one full week. if it cracks, you fail. if you forget it somewhere, you fail. if i so much as suspect that you’re not taking this seriously, you fail.”

you felt a headache forming.

professor lee’s eyes narrowed. “and trust me, i’ll know.”

a collective shudder ran through the class. professor lee was infamous for his unconventional teaching methods. last semester, he had made students carry around cabbages as part of a psychology experiment. cabbages.

you glanced at jaehyun, who was still grinning like he had won the lottery.

he thinks this is a joke.

you groaned. “i’m so screwed.”

“nah,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “we got this.”

you turned to him, deadpan. “jaehyun. you literally failed this class.”

he placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “so did you.”

“yeah, but at least i actually tried.”

he snorted. “right. well, don’t worry, partner. our egg’s in good hands.”

you didn’t believe that for a second.

“one last thing,” professor lee added, holding up a basket. “before you leave, come up and receive your child.”

you almost choked.

child?

yuna was practically vibrating with laughter beside you. “you’re gonna be a great mom.”

“shut up.”

jaehyun, on the other hand, was already making his way to the front, completely unbothered. when he returned, he was holding the egg in his palm, studying it like it was some ancient relic.

“alright, partner,” he said, plopping into his seat. “meet our kid.”

you stared at it.

it was just a normal egg. nothing special. fragile, small, and already giving you anxiety.

“we’re so failing this,” you muttered.

jaehyun scoffed. “have a little faith.”

you gave him a pointed look. “jaehyun. be honest. how long do you think you can go without dropping it?”

he paused.

then—

“...three days?”

you groaned again.

this was going to be the longest week of your life.

—

the first day of the project was already testing every ounce of patience you had.

you and jaehyun sat at one of the library tables, your so-called child resting in an old coffee cup between you. professor lee had made it clear that this assignment wasn’t just about keeping the egg safe—you had to document everything. feeding schedules (which made zero sense), bedtime routines, and even bonding activities.

you hated every second of it.

“this is the dumbest thing i’ve ever done,” you muttered, tapping your pen against the table.

jaehyun, who was busy doodling little lightning bolts around the word thunder in your shared notebook, smirked. “that’s because you lack vision.”

“oh, i have vision. i see our grades plummeting.”

he leaned back in his chair, tossing his pen in the air before catching it effortlessly. “relax, co-parent. we just have to act like responsible adults for a week.”

you squinted at him. “you literally left the egg unattended five minutes ago to go buy chips.”

he waved you off. “our kid was fine. independent.”

“it's an egg.”

“it's our egg.”

you exhaled sharply, choosing to ignore him as you scribbled in the notebook. but then, out of the corner of your eye, you caught him reaching for the cup.

you tensed immediately.

“what are you doing?”

“holding my child.”

“no. no touching.” you moved the cup further away. “i don’t trust you.”

he looked genuinely offended. “wow. you were the one who almost knocked it over earlier.”

“because you distracted me!”

“because you were making that stupid face while writing.”

“stupid face?” you gawked at him. “i do not make a stupid face.”

he shrugged. “if the shoe fits.”

you smacked his arm with the notebook. “contribute to this or i’m making you do the whole thing by yourself.”

“fine, fine,” he sighed, taking the pen from you. he twirled it between his fingers before scrawling something next to your notes.

you glanced at the paper.

“bonding activity: jaehyun teaches the egg how to shoot a three-pointer.”

you stared at him.

“you’re a menace,” you said.

he grinned. “and yet, here we are. bonded for life.”

you groaned, dropping your head onto the table.

and somewhere in the distance, leehan and taesan—who had been watching from another table—exchanged glances before bursting into quiet laughter.

the first time you stepped into jaehyun’s room, you had one goal: check on the egg, make sure it was intact, and leave.

but of course, nothing was ever that simple with him.

“welcome to the nursery,” jaehyun said, kicking the door shut behind him.

you rolled your eyes. “nursery? it’s your room.”

“our son lives here now,” he replied, completely serious. “show some respect.”

you sighed, stepping past him. his room was… surprisingly neat. you expected a mess—basketballs lying around, clothes thrown over furniture, maybe even an unmade bed. but aside from a few scattered notebooks and a pile of hoodies in the corner, it was normal.

too normal.

“where is it?” you asked, crossing your arms.

jaehyun walked over to his desk and held up a small shoebox. he lifted the lid, revealing the egg nestled in a bundle of socks.

you blinked. “you put it in a box?”

“i made a crib,” he corrected, placing the box gently on his bed. “cozy, right?”

you sat down at the edge of the bed, peering inside. "you could’ve at least used a tissue or something instead of Nike socks."

“those are premium cushioning. only the best for our kid.”

you scoffed, but you couldn’t deny that the egg was perfectly fine. untouched. safe.

and then, jaehyun did something unexpected—he sat next to you. not across from you, not at his desk, but right next to you, so close you could feel the warmth radiating off of him.

the usual chaos, the usual bickering, the usual tension that made you want to strangle him—it was still there. but something else settled in between the silence.

it was different here.

“so,” he said, voice quieter than usual. “how’s it feel knowing our son sleeps in my room?”

you turned to glare at him, but the second you did, you realized just how close he was.

your breath caught.

he was leaning on one arm, watching you with a lazy smirk, the kind that usually annoyed you to no end. but here, in this room, on this bed, it felt like something else.

something you didn’t want to name.

“i don’t care where it sleeps,” you muttered, looking away. “i just don’t want it broken.”

“i’ll take care of it,” he said, and for once, there was no teasing in his tone.

you swallowed. “good.”

but when you tried to stand up, he didn’t move.

“jaehyun.”

“hm?”

“move.”

he grinned. "say please."

you shoved his shoulder, and he finally let you go with a laugh, flopping back onto the bed as you practically sprinted for the door.

“same time tomorrow, co-parent?” he called after you.

you slammed the door behind you, heart pounding.

your hell starts the moment you start noticing things about jaehyun that you shouldn’t be noticing.

it’s the way he moves on the court—fast, precise, like he already knows exactly where the ball will land before it even gets there. it’s the way he runs a hand through his hair when he’s frustrated, the way he rolls his shoulders before a free throw, the way his eyes flicker to you after making a perfect shot, as if waiting for your reaction.

and it’s infuriating.

because now, even when you’re supposed to be focusing on your game, your team, your own plays—jaehyun lingers at the back of your mind like an annoying pop song you can’t get rid of.

but the worst part? it’s not just at the gym.

it’s when you’re in his room, sitting on his bed, checking on the egg like always. except now, you’re hyperaware of how close he sits, how he sometimes lets his arm rest against yours like it’s nothing. how, when you pout at him over something stupid—like the way he insists on calling your egg “junior” instead of a normal name—his gaze flickers to your lips for half a second too long.

and jaehyun?

he’s in denial.

because this was not supposed to happen. he wasn’t supposed to want to kiss you when you scolded him. wasn’t supposed to feel heat creeping up his neck when you absentmindedly played with your necklace while talking. wasn’t supposed to care that your team captain from another school once called you “impressive” after a practice match.

he wasn’t supposed to want you.

and unfortunately for him, his friends have noticed.

“so,” woonhak drawls one afternoon, lazily dribbling a basketball as they sit on the bleachers, watching you and your team wrap up practice. “when are you gonna admit it?”

jaehyun doesn’t even look up. “admit what?”

leehan snorts. “that you like her, dumbass.”

“i don’t,” jaehyun scoffs, leaning back against the bench.

sungho raises a brow. “right. that’s why you’re staring at her like she personally offended you by existing.”

jaehyun looks away immediately, only for leehan to chuckle.

“you do realize she probably feel the same way, right?”

that makes jaehyun freeze for a second.

taesan hums. “she still argue with you, sure. but i see the way she get all flustered when you compliment her. she didn’t used to react like that.”

jaehyun opens his mouth to deny it again, but then he thinks back.

to the way you stumbled over your words last week when he casually told you your spike was getting better. to the way your breath hitched when he tucked your hair behind your ear. to the way you hesitated before leaving his room the other night, as if you were starting to feel this too.

maybe his friends were right.

and that’s when jaehyun decides: it’s time to test the waters.

so he starts pushing boundaries—just a little.

at the gym, after practice, he doesn’t just wink at you like usual. he lingers, waiting for you to react, grinning when you groan and shove him away.

when you come over to check on the egg, he always has food ready, pretending it’s no big deal when he slides a plate toward you.

“i didn’t ask for this,” you huff, poking at the meal he made.

“didn’t say you did,” he shrugs, sitting across from you. “but you always look tired after practice. eat.”

and that confuses you.

because what the hell is he doing? what the hell does he want?

you’d always known jaehyun as the annoying basketball captain who drove you insane, but now…

now he’s holding your hand a second longer than necessary. now he’s calling you “co-parent” with a lazy grin that makes your stomach twist in a way you don’t want to acknowledge. now he’s casually running a hand through his hair while watching you in between classes, like he knows something you don’t.

and you hate that it scares you.

because if this is just another game to him, if he’s just messing with you—then why does it feel so real?

the egg cracks.

not metaphorically—though, honestly, it might as well be—but literally.

you’re standing in jaehyun’s room, holding what used to be your child (as he so dramatically called it), staring at the jagged fracture running across the eggshell. your breath catches in your throat.

“oh, shit,” you whisper.

jaehyun, who had been leaning against his desk, looks up from his phone. “what?”

you slowly turn to him, the broken egg cradled in your hands like a crime scene.

“we killed junior.”

for a moment, there’s silence. then—

“oh my god,” jaehyun breathes out, eyes widening.

“we’re failures.”

“we’re murderers.”

“professor lee is going to slaughter us.”

“okay, first of all,” jaehyun says, quickly moving toward you, “you’re the one who dropped it—”

“don’t you dare pin this on me.”

“—and second,” he continues, ignoring you, “we just need a replacement.”

you blink at him. “you want to… replace our child?”

“wouldn’t be the first time people switched babies at birth,” he shrugs.

“you’re insane.”

“do you want to fail?”

you purse your lips. no. but—

jaehyun sighs. “look, we can sit here mourning an egg, or we can fix the problem. your call.”

you scowl at him, but he’s right. begrudgingly, you set the cracked egg down and grab your bag.

“fine. but if we get caught—”

“we won’t,” he grins, already grabbing his car keys and intertwining his hand with yours, “let’s go, co-parent.”

—

you manage to replace the egg. you turn in your project. you pass.

but that’s not the ending.

the ending is this:

it’s late, and you’re at jaehyun’s house, sprawled out on his bed like always. the ceiling fan hums softly overhead, casting slow-moving shadows against the walls. the scent of his cologne lingers in the air—clean, familiar, a little too comforting. he’s sitting at the edge of the bed, lazily spinning a basketball on his finger, gaze half-lidded with concentration.

you’re supposed to feel relieved. the project is over. the ridiculous assignment, the stress, the stupid arguments—you survived it all. but your head is still spinning, not from exhaustion, but from something else. something heavier.

because things have shifted. you don’t bicker as much anymore. the teasing has changed. the tension isn’t sharp—it’s something softer now, something unspoken that curls around the edges of your conversations. something that lingers in the way his eyes stay on you a little longer than they should.

“so,” jaehyun says suddenly, voice cutting through the quiet. “you’re still thinking about it.”

you blink at him. “thinking about what?”

he finally looks at you, and the corner of his mouth twitches like he’s amused.

“us.”

your stomach flips. you sit up too fast, the mattress dipping beneath you. “there’s no us.”

jaehyun smirks. slow. knowing. like he’s heard the lie in your voice before you even said it.

“sure,” he hums, spinning the ball again. “but i think about it.”

your breath hitches.

“what?”

he tosses the ball aside. it rolls off the bed, thudding softly onto the carpet, but you barely hear it over the sudden rush of blood in your ears. because he’s shifting, leaning in, invading your space in a way that makes your pulse stutter.

closer than necessary. closer than friends should be.

“i think about how much fun it is to piss you off,” he murmurs, and his voice is different this time—lower, rougher. “i think about how much i like having you around.”

his hand lifts, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. the touch is barely there, but it burns.

“and i think about how, if i kissed you right now, you wouldn’t stop me.”

your breath catches.

because he’s right.

but the worst part? you don’t want to stop him.

you don’t move when his gaze flickers down to your lips. you don’t push him away when his fingers graze your jaw, thumb tracing slow, feather-light circles against your skin.

and when he finally tilts his head and closes the distance, when his lips press against yours in something hesitant but undeniably real—

you kiss him back.

© hancorys, 2025.

[cambankromyy]

THE ISLAND LOOKOUT (pt.9): midsummer suit - (smau & irl au) childhood bsf!rafe cameron x thornton!reader

series masterlist; general masterlist; taglist

an: theres a little bit of.. not smut but the intention of. so if ur uncomfortable w that.. sorry!!!!! i swear real smut coming soon

part 8- part 9 - part 10

it wasn’t like roni and jj never texted before that night. they had, just not like this. before, it was mostly through sarah, or quick exchanges about something happening in the moment—jj talking shit about a kook party, roni responding with something equally unserious, both of them moving on.

but after that night, something shifted. their texts ramped up, turned into a running conversation that didn’t really have a start or stop. nothing important, just constant. half of it was stupid, the other half even stupider, but neither of them ever left the other on read.

you wake up slow, head heavy, limbs tangled in your sheets. jj’s hoodie still clings to you, carrying that sun-soaked, familiar scent, and for a second, you don’t remember falling asleep in it. then again, you don’t remember much of last night past a certain point—just flashes of laughter, the warmth of bodies pressed close, jj stealing your sunglasses, kiara yelling in your ear.

you rub at your face, squinting against the daylight filtering through your window, before rolling over—and that’s when you see it. your midsummers dress, hung up on your closet door, staring you down like it knows something you don’t.

shit.

midsummers. a reminder that you’ve agreed to show up, fully dressed, fully prepared. a reminder that you’re bringing jj, who, knowing him, probably doesn’t even own a suit.

you groan, flopping onto your back before reaching for your phone on the nightstand. the screen lights up with a couple notifications—one from sarah, one from island lookout (you ignore both), and a random-ass picture from jj at 2 a.m. of what looks like an abandoned shopping cart on the side of the road. you huff out a laugh before pulling up your chat.

if someone told you a month ago that you’d be spending a friday afternoon at a tailor with jj maybank, you would’ve laughed in their face.

but here you are.

jj isn’t the worst shopping partner. he’s actually fun.

he lets you drag him through the store, half-dressed in whatever you throw at him, mostly unbothered until you make him try on a white suit jacket that makes him look like an off-duty magician.

“i look like i’m about to swindle old ladies in a casino,” jj says, staring at his reflection.

“it’s giving coke dealer.”

“that too.”

he disappears at some point and comes back wearing an all-red suit.

“be honest, i look like a sexy little devil, don’t i?”

you don’t even dignify that with a response. just whip out your phone and take a picture. jj is standing on the platform, arms out as some poor old tailor fusses with the fit of his jacket. you’re perched on a nearby couch, arms crossed, head tilted as you watch the disaster unfold.

after many many complaints and suits tried on, you're able to snap a picture of the final suit, sending it to the groupchat.

jj nudges you, jolting your attention away from your phone, his voice low. “dude, i think someone just took a picture of us.”

you glance around, spotting the obvious island lookout informant, a kook girl pretending to browse through ties while clearly not-so-subtly typing on her phone.

you shrug, not even fazed. “oh yeah, that’s normal. happens to me sometimes. not on the cut, but for sure on fig 8 or somewhere around here.”

jj raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “damn, you’re famous.”

you roll your eyes. “oh no, don’t manifest it.”

he laughs, shaking his head. “maybe we’ll trend.”

you groan sarcastiaclly, already imagining the chaos. “please no. dont manifest it.”

you just roll your eyes but smile. there’s no escaping the attention when you’re constantly doing the most.

by the time you both leave, jj is still messing with his collar, looking himself over in the rearview mirror.

“this is dangerous,” he says, admiring the way the suit fits. “if i pull up to midsummers in this, i might not make it out single.”

you snort. “you’re literally my date. be so for real.”

jj grins at you, eyes flicking down for a second before he shrugs. “yeah, yeah. not a bad deal, though.”

you roll your eyes but feel the warmth spread through your chest anyway.

you decide to drive around the island instead of going back to the chateau immediately. windows down, music low. the sun is setting, the conversation easy, bouncing from bullshit to real shit and back again.

it’s only when you pull up to the chateau that the mood shifts.

you put the car into park, the music cutting off along with the engine, but neither of you move. the air inside feels thick, charged, like something’s been hanging between you all day, just waiting to snap.

you stare ahead, hands still gripping the wheel. jj sits back in his seat, stretching out his legs, his fingers drumming lazily against his knee. the silence stretches.

you glance at him.

he smirks, tilting his head. “what?”

that’s all it takes.

a breath of laughter escapes you—nervous, knowing. jj grins wider, like he knows exactly what’s running through your head, because it’s running through his too.

you should probably think it through. maybe hesitate.

you don’t.

you lean in, and jj doesn’t hesitate either. his hand finds your jaw, fingers pressing into your skin as he pulls you deeper into the kiss.

you exhale sharply through your nose, fingers curling around the collar of his shirt. jj is warm, solid, familiar—but the way he kisses you? anything but.

it’s slow at first, like neither of you want to rush it. then jj tilts his head, and suddenly it’s all teeth, heat, and tongue, a little messy, a little desperate.

you hum against his lips, barely processing the way his hand drags down, palm pressing over your bare thigh. he squeezes, and a jolt of something hot and electric shoots up your spine.

jj grins against your mouth like he can tell. like he likes it.

his fingers press in harder, and you bite his bottom lip in retaliation. he groans, his other hand slipping under the hem of your hoodie, fingertips brushing bare skin.

the air in the car turns thick. the tension crackles.

you shift, moving closer, your knee knocking into his as you drag your nails lightly over his neck. jj shudders, and you feel a flicker of satisfaction knowing you’re getting to him just as much. his hand travels down to your thighs, squeezing them as he inches up to where your really want him.

and then—

“roni?”

sarah’s voice.

you barely have time to pull back before sarah’s face appears in the window, all bright-eyed and oblivious.

“oh, perfect!” she chirps. “roni, can you drive me home real quick? and you wanna get dinner after?”

sarah doesn’t notice a thing.

you glance at jj, expecting to see him just as thrown off, but he’s already leaning back, rubbing his jaw, his expression smooth. like nothing happened.

“yeah, yeah,” you say, your voice slightly hoarse. you clear your throat and turn the key in the ignition, gripping the wheel so tight your knuckles turn white.

jj just smirks, tapping his fingers against his knee. “see you later, thornton.”

then he’s out the door, walking toward the chateau like you weren’t just wrapped up in each other, like he didn’t just change everything.

you exhale, gripping the wheel as sarah gets in to the passengers seat.

that was way too close.

an; eek i love itttt also 2 chapters in one day? who am i

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 @my-name-is-baby @lolasangelz @polli05927 @laniirackssss @rafecameronswifeyy

[suugarbabe]

Mom (can I call you mom?) I need a DISGUSTING AMOUNT OF FLUFF like I need kisses YEARNING HOD THE YEARNING!?!??!?!!!!???! I'm talking DIABOLICAL angst “did you touch her?” WOUND CLEANING DESCRIPTIVE CUDDLING AND AND MOM AND I NEED MAYBE LITTLE SMUT WITH EITHER SIRIUS BLACK OR LORENZO BERKSHIRE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm Gnawing at the bars of my enclosure scratching my skin begging you please your writing is my lifeline MOM FEED ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!

hiii lovie! mom, mommy, mommy sab; all appropriate and approved 😌

thanks sm for the request! I haven’t written smut in a hot minute so I do apologize if it’s a little jank. otherwise here you go babes (I chose Enzie baby btw)

The feeling of Enzo’s nose nuzzling against your neck before his lips attached to skin was dizzying. Your senses overloaded with all that was him and as one of his large hands splayed across your back, pulling your hips flush to his while his other braced his weight against the corridor wall you were pressed against.

“Enz,” you gasped his name out as his lips attached to a particular sensitive area just beneath your ear. “Hmm?” He hummed against your skin, dragging his lips down your neck once more before finally pulling away and meeting your eyes. “I can’t help myself, baby,” Enzo’s voice was low, almost groaning out his sentences before burying his face in your neck once more, “I just wanna devour you in the hall.”

You let out a gasping laugh, knotting your fingers through his hair to pull him off you. The fuckers eyes rolled at the action, “Fuuuck, baby, love it when you’re not afraid to be rough in front of others.” His tone of slightly teasing, allowing you to push him back a step by his chest. “You’re ridiculous Enz, and we’re both going to be late.”

Enzo only smirked as he threw an arm around your shoulder as you both walked to your next lesson, “You know McGonagall actually loves me. she only gives that disapproving look to the people she cares for.” You shook your head with a grin, pushing his arm off your shoulder as you entered the classroom.

As you stepped away from his to head to your own table, Enzo grabbed hold of your wrist and pulled you back to his chest before grabbing your face and slotting his lips between yours once more. “I think that’s enough, Mr. Berkshire. You’re about hitting my limit of affection displays for the term,” Professor McGonagall firmly directed your boyfriend to his seat with a pointed finger.

Your cheeks burned red as you found your own seat a few tables in front of him. “Today we will be working in partners,” McGonagall’s began, quickly having any murmurs of the class turns to groans of complaint with her finished sentence, “that I have already chosen for you.” Thankfully you were not paired with anyone too disastrous; instead getting a very nice ravenclaw boy who was immensely helpful. Even showing you how to properly hold your want to get the incantation just right.

Which all really seemed innocent enough. At least in your mind. But on your way to dinner your heard it. That sharp change in Enzo’s voice that only comes out when his possessive side does. “I’ll ask you again, and for fucking Salazar’s sake you better have a good answer. Why were you touching what isn’t yours to fucking touch?”

You couldn’t see him yet, but it was quite easy for you to visualize; that little tilt in Enzo’s head when he’s asking a question almost mockingly. Because he doesn’t really care about the answer. He’s going to hurt them either way.

There was a small crowd formed around them; you had shoved your way through a few people just in time to see Enzo’s fist connect with the Ravenclaw’s face one, two, three times before you’re calling out to Theo and Matty to stop him.

Now Enzo was pouting on the edge of his bed, trying to keep his sour look while you dabbed a gauze over his split knuckles. “Hey, that hurts!” Enzo flinched his hand back with a hiss. You smacked the side of his thigh before grabbing his wrist and pulling his hand back towards you, “Stop being a baby, this is your fault you know! Beating on someone for no good reason. We need to get your jealousy in check.”

Enzo rolled his eyes at your words. You were having none of it, grabbing his chin and forcing his eyes to look at you, “Don’t do that.” He narrowed his eyes at you; you could almost see the gears turning in his brain to make some sort of smart ass remark. You really didn’t want a fight, even if it was half hearted.

You repositioned your grip on his chin, catching his off guard with a hand on his throat as you pull his lips to yours. He responded quickly, his hands going for your hips and pulling you to his lap. You braced yourself on his shoulders as he pulled you both further on to the bed.

You pushed back on his shoulders, Enzo taking the hint on laying back on the bed, pulling you with him. You braced yourself on either side of his head as you deepened the kiss, licking into his mouth as you ground your his down to his, causing you both to moan.

You trailed your lips across his jaw, over the skin of skin of his neck, “You know there’s nothing to be jealous of, baby…” Enzo let out a strained grunt as your teeth grazed his collar bone, your fingertips dancing along his sides causing his muscles to twitch.

“The only one I ever want is you, Enzie baby…maybe I just need to remind you how much I appreciate you, hmm?” You sat up, pulling your shirt over your head. Enzo’s eyes grew wide, his pupils dilating, iris’s growing darker. His hands were immediately on you, marveling at your bare skin, squeezing at your waist when your fingers began undoing his trousers, “Oh fuck baby, yeah?”

He raised his hips eagerly, allowing you to slide everything down his legs. You wrapped your hand around his cock while he helped you get them the rest of the way off, his eagerness nearly radiating off him as he laid down again.

You continued to work him with your hand as you kissed and nipped at his thighs, his hips bucking, begging for more. “Patience, baby,” you teased, biting and sucking at the meat of his thigh before soothing it with your tongue. Enzo opened his mouth for a smart remark but all words were lost as you chose that moment to drag your tongue up the length of his shaft.

“Fuuucking hell, baby,” you had barely gotten started and already he was praising you. You wrapped your hand around the base of his cock as you spit on the head, using your other hand to spread it along his shaft before wrapping your lips around him. Enzo let out a whine of a moan, and gods did he sound so pretty.

You started to bob your head, just shallowly at first, enough to get him worked up. Then you released with a pop, a gasp leaving his lips and almost a complaint before you took one of his balls in your mouth, tongue swirling over the sensitive skin as your hand still pumped his length, thumb swiping over the tip and making his thighs twitch.

You took the other side in your mouth, flattening snd lengthening your tongue to graze that sensitive patch of skin just before his hole that had his whole body jolting and his fingers lacing in your hair. “Holy fucking Salazar, fuck, baby you keep doing that and i’m gonna cum, but I need to be in your mouth, yeah? Please baby let me fill that pretty little throat of yours,” Enzo was practically whimpering, begging. And who were you to deny such polite requests.

You flattened your tongue again, letting him fill your mouth with his cock until you could feel him hit the back of your throat; then you pushed him a little further, testing your gag reflex and swelling around the head of his cock. Slurred expletives mixed with your name spilled from Enzo’s lips as you repeated the action. You dragged your nails along the side of his abdomen, feeling the muscles in his stomach twitch and you knew he was close.

You did your best to relax your throat, Enzo’s grip on your hair getting stronger and you allowed his full length in your mouth and down your throat, nose brushing his pelvic bone. “Oh gods oh fuck oh fuck, baby i’m cumming..i’m cumming, i-i’m cum-“ a string of whining moans left his pretty pink lips as he held his cock down your throat and filled your mouth before his grip on your head lightened.

You swallowed everything he gave you, making sure to drag your tongue up his length, licking his tip clean and smirking at the way his stomach twitched before releasing him from your mouth. Enzo’s chest rose and fell rapidly as you kissed up his stomach, over his chest and along his neck before connecting your lips with his.

He hummed into the kiss before pulling away slightly and cupping your cheek, “Mmm you know I can’t guarantee I won’t get jealous again..not when I know you can do that.” You smiled, brushing your knuckle against his cheek, “That’s okay, Enz baby. I’ll just have to remind you of your appreciating again.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Now don't throw tomatoes at me but I'm actually really excited to finally see malleus again— I've always loved malleus since we met him in the story, but I'm also sooo curious about what's gonna happen next,, I'm wondering the obvious thing, about whether or not we might get a parralel scenario like what happened with the KoD and silver will have to "slay" malleus or at least be the one to land a killing blow, but I also saw a really interesting post focusing on how magic is a manifestation of dreams and deep desires and imagination,,,, in that case, I may (VERY delusionally) hope that Yuu finally gets to be a major part of the story for once??? Even reading the novels, there HAS to be something bigger for yuu— while the idea of crowley simply being an incompetent airhead is fun and more comfortable, haven't you thought that meybe he pulled them into this world deliberately??

All to say, what if at some point, Yuu somehow manifests magic in a very dire moment ?? You know lol?? Agh idk. I just want yuu to finally make impactful choices but that IS too much to ask, as far as we can see for now,,, (but hey, that part leading up to ace getting is UM, and the convo between him and yuu,,, it *does* give one a sliver of hope, doesn't it? :') )

Don't worry, no tomato throwing here! 😅 I may not care for certain characters, but I’m not going to shame anyone that does. You’re free to think however you want about Malleus!

dbjsvsJcwhj My personal feelings about him aside, I am actually glad he’s finally relevant to the main story again. He’s missed out on so much of his own book OTL In the time he’s been gone, the fandom has been left to speculate about both his and Lilia’s potential death flags. I really doubt Twst will have the balls to kill off one of them, but it would be cool to at least see Silver delivering the final blow to knock some sense into (not necessarily kill) OB Malleus.

Yes, it’s true that Silver states in the recent update that magic was originally considered “a miracle borne of strong desires from the heart.” But 💦 I don’t think that means Yuu would randomly manifest magic in the final fight?? It feels more like a “let’s save the day with the power of friendship” to me, but I could of course be wrong.

I understand being frustrated that Yuu’s participation in the main story seems to fluctuate a lot, with most of their activity being books 3, 4, and segments of 1, 6, and 7. That’s not much, especially considering how long books 6 and 7 are. Sometimes (even in events) it feels like Yuu is barely there, as most dialogue options don’t involve different reactions from the characters. Even Yuu's quest to find a way home is barely addressed or taken seriously until early in book 7. Yuu hasn't gotten "real" development unless you count them realizing their Disney dreams are prophetic in book 5, taking the initiative to save Grim in book 6, and that dialogue option about them being worried they're not contributing + the related convo with Ace in book 7. All very short moments in the grand scheme of things. And honestly, I think that makes sense for the kind of character Yuu is. A blank slate, a self-insert, an outsider that's easy to exposit information to, someone with which to view the story, characters, and world through. Yuu is primarily there to be the POV character, the lenses, the camera that we see Twst through. They're not really meant to be a traditional "main character". It's possible that Twst gives them a slightly bigger role at the very end (especially with what went down in the dream in book 7), but I doubt it will be a huge triumphant moment where they and they alone save the day or deal the final blow in a crazy act of self-sacrifice. Twst has always been a story that puts the NRC boys first, while Yuu is the observer.

I've noticed that the complaint of Yuu not doing a lot in the story comes mainly from English speaking fans?? And I guess that makes sense, given how western culture tends to emphasize independence and standing out. They want Yuu to reflect that. They want to be the ones to make a difference. I don't even remember ever seeing these same comments from the Japanese speaking fans; it's definitely a less common sentiment for them. The Japanese fans seem pretty content with Yuu being an observer and taking on more of a minor or supporting role. Again, this fits in with what I understand of many eastern cultures. They're demurer, not wanting to stand out too much from the crowd and instead prioritizing group harmony. Very interesting cultural difference to note!

It's a common theory (with many variants) that Crowley intentionally summoned Yuu to Twisted Wonderland for his own nefarious motives. People found him pretty sus right away due to how he seems to not put in any real time or effort into investigating a way to send Yuu home. Plus, there's that ominous opening monologue of his to consider. However, I don't think he summoned Yuu because of their (potential) great magical capabilities. The Mirror of Darkness tells us that it doesn't sense a shred of magic in Yuu, and Leona smells zero magic on them (though that could be because it hasn't technically manifested yet, as some fans claim).

The idea is that Yuu is supposed to be plain. They are supposed to be magicless. Why? To humble the NRC students and to show them that asserting yourself violently or with great magical power ISN'T the way to go. To show them value in strategizing (which Yuu does in the prologue by helping Grim aim at the ghosts), of camaraderie. What does it say about the story's themes if Yuu, the person who is supposed to be showing them the worth of mundane things, is suddenly... "secretly ultra-strong, actually/“just like you guys” (even if it's only a temporary hope-fueled magic)? It might contradict what has already been set up. It also breaks the self-insert appeal of Yuu, since developing magic would also mean Yuu would later have to further develop things like proficiency in magic, best/worst subjects, and an unique magic/signature spell... meaning Yuu HAS to become better "defined", thus losing their blank slate nature. This would surely upset some fans who deeply project onto Yuu, have a Yuusona, etc.

Yuu can still make an impact on the characters and the world--and they have, judging by how much closer the boys are with each other--without having to be The Most Special One or like everyone else. I think it undermines what Yuu has already managed to achieve to say that they haven't made an impactful choice at ANY point in the main story when I believe they definitely have. Yuu made the choice to sign the contract with Azul. Yuu made the choice to approach Malleus. Yuu made the choice to go against Crowley's orders and go retrieve Grim from S.T.Y.X. Yuu made the choice to get Leona’s help with the contracts. Yuu made the choice to stand with Adeuce against Riddle in book 1. Yuu made the choice to let the VDC/SDC tribe train at Ramshackle. Yuu has done a lot, and all without needing to seize the spotlight or to do anything big and flashy. I don't think Yuu needs to be big and flashy. There is pride to be had in simplicity and being humble too. There is pride in representing the 90% of humans in Twisted Wonderland that are ordinary and without magic.

(An aside: so if Yuu wasn’t able to manifest magic in many other extreme instances, does that mean their desire to save Grim in book 6 wasn’t “enough”? That their desire to save Ramshackle, their one and only home in this world, wasn’t “enough”? It implies that Yuu didn’t wish hard enough for these other things they clearly care about and want.)

I think a good way to give Yuu a decent role while staying true to their design as a blank slate would be for Twst to really lean into the whole "beast tamer" aspect that was introduced all the way back in the prologue. This would work well with their deep connection to Grim as well. Assuming that Grim ends up being the final OB... We could easily have the NRC students and staff on the ropes, Malleus at his wit's end after exhausting himself with his own OB, a rampaging Grim about to end it all. And then... one lone figure shakily rises from the rubble and confronts Grim. One human. Magicless, defenseless. A human lost in an unfamiliar world, a human who believes they're useless and don't contribute much. A human who is always in need of being protected by others. But not anymore. This time, it's Yuu's turn to protect what they love--their friends, this world they've come to love, Grim. Ace and Deuce yelling at Yuu to not be stupid, to get back--but Yuu just advances, calling out to Grim and begging him to stop. And maybe it's Yuu's wish that rallies everyone and/or gets OB Grim to hesitate. That's when they can strike. Is that corny? Yeah. Does it sound like the ending to a Disney film? Sure. But it still grants Yuu, a magicless human that is supposed to be there to teach everyone about friendship, cooperation, and humility, their big moment to shine. The best of both worlds, I'd say.

[bathroomcryptid]

The Real Housewives of the Imperium

A/N: This is just some bullshit my brain vomited while I was procrastinating other things. Enjoyyy

Lore Drop™️ before we begin: In my personal headcanon of whatever the fuck this is, the wives of the Primarchs definitely act as a political arm of their respective legion/Primarch. They are the ones that involve themselves with the administration and nobility and royalty of the Imperium, and this is a role the Primarchs are happy enough to dump on them while they’re off fighting wars. It also means that the wives run into each other a lot.

Who Hates Each other?

-I would say no one really hates each other, but that’s a lie. The Red Lady and the Wolf Mother cannot under any circumstances be in the same room together, they will absolutely kill each other it’s not pretty.

-The Raven Mother, while not generally having any disagreements with anyone, is just around so rarely it’s hard to say she has any really good friends amongst the wives.

Who are friends?

-First, The Khatun has some freaky superpower that lets her get along with literally everyone and everyone loves her. She is literally everyone’s best friend and she loves it.

-Lady Lupercal, The Mother of the Salamanders, and The Khatun have seen everything. These were the first three spouses and the only Primarch spouses for a long time. Not only were they the first, but they were also the only three to have been with their husbands prior to the Emperor’s appearance. These three wrote the book and have a deep friendship because of their circumstances.

-The Lady of the Hydra, the Dark Lady, Lady Guilliman, Lady Lupercal, and the Lady of the Emperor’s Children are all somehow extremely good friends and it’s so bad for everyone’s health because these women SCHEME. If you fuck with them or their husbands they will have the entire Imperium legitimately thinking you sacrifice babies to pagan gods in your free time by the next cycle do not mess with them. They also will pull up to the function with the best gossip.

-A surprising friendship here - the Mother of the Salamanders and Lady Curze. Everyone was expecting the Red Lady and Wolf Mother round two with these two, but noooo, they get along like a house on fire and that’s what they’ll do to yours if you fuck with them. Whereas our Quintet of trouble up there will spin you around with their words, these two are more of the “corner you in a dark alley with a knife and threaten you within an inch of your life” type.

-The Lady of the Death Guard, Lady Aurelian, the Khatun, and Lady Kurze also float around each other because they are four of the genuinely nicest people you’ll ever meet and they subconsciously bond over it.

-The Wolf Mother and the Dark Lady are drinking buddies

How do they complain about their husbands/step-children to each other?

-Now when it comes to complaining? The Lady of Iron is there, first in line to start complaining about her husband and you know who’s right behind her? The Lady of the Iron Hands because I know in my heart of hearts she’s beefing with her step-children. Between these two there are literal hours of content.

-Even though those two are in a league of their own, most gatherings between these women usually devolve into complaints about their husbands.

-Fun fact: It’s actually during one of these complaint sessions that Lady Guilliman got the idea to ban paperwork from the bedroom.

-Although, some of these women are putting back breaking work into these men, so honestly, they deserve to complain a little

Who is talking up their husbands/step-sons?

-You know who’s not complaining? Lady Aurelian and the Lady of the Death Guard on god they love their husbands more than anything and no one knows why because they are so hot. Deadass, they pulled up to the function looking like goddesses with baked goods and everyone else was like “…sorry, the Imperium’s Next Top Model is like two doors down”, but no they were in fact in the right place and everyone is still surprised.

-Also, be careful when it comes to mentioning the step-children because there are some *cough* The Mother of the Salamanders *cough* who keep a whole book of all their kids and their accomplishments on them at all times and they will yap on about them for HOURS. The Mother of the Salamanders is like one of those dads that have pictures of their kids accordion style in their wallet and they open it up and a whole string of pictures falls out but she has too many kids so she needs a book.

-It’s also a perilous topic of conversation around The Lady of Angels and The Lady of the Emperor’s Children because they will pull out their step kid’s artwork and they will make you look at it and compliment it. For. Hours.

-It’s not unheard of for particularly these three to be at events with the step-children and not shut the fuck up about them.

…

The Mother of the Salamanders: *to the person next to her* This is my son [insert Salamander name here]. He is just the most wonderful son ever. He just got back from defending a planet from Xenos! Look at this picture of him right after they claimed victory! *holds up a picture of said Salamander covered in blood looking majestic on the battlefield* And look at this sword he just made! He’s so talented! *proceeds to open a whole scrapbook, flip to said son’s page, and fold out a ton of pictures because they wouldn’t all fit on the paper* And look at this-

Salamander: *blushing under his helmet*

…

The Mother of Angels: *to the person next to her* You know, my son here [insert Blood Angel name here] is quite the performer.

Random Noble Probably: Ah, really-

The Mother of Angels: Yes! He’s just so talented! *pulls out a stack of photos* You see, this is him playing the piano, his first instrument, and then here you see he decided to try out the harp. He’s absolutely excellent at both and then- *continues chattering on and on*

Blood Angel: *flattered that Mom cares so much*

…

The Lady of the Emperor’s Children: *sits down next to someone* Hello, lovely, how are you?

Random Noble: Ah, My Lady, I’m well and you?

Lady of the Emperor’s Children: Ah, I’m spectacular. Say, have you met my son [insert Emperor’s Child name here]?

Random Noble: We have not had the pleasure.

Lady of the Emperor’s Children: Well, this is [insert name again]. You know, he’s quite the talent, almost perfect at anything he tries his hand at. You know, he recently picked up painting. *starts rummaging and pulls out a stack of photos* See, here was his first one. I was so surprised at how good he was on his first try, and then he followed it up with this one and I was absolutely blown away! *Off she goes on a tangent*

Emperor’s Child: *can’t tell whether to be flattered or concerned that Mom has that many pictures of him*

…

-Though they aren’t the only three culprits of this, most of them have done this, the rest of them, though, usually shut up after about an hour or two and only have a few pictures on them of their step kids.

-cuts over to the Lady of the Iron Hands and her step-children who are trying to growl at each other around a very tired looking Ferrus Manus who is sat between them.

-though, most of these women love to brag about their step-children and how great at everything they are.

-The Lady of Iron is also another big culprit, she loves showing off her step-kids. She has also threatened Perterabo within an inch of his life when he’s ragged on his kids.

-The mental health of the Iron Warriors rose significantly once the Lady of Iron was apart of the picture.

-Almost as much as they like bragging about their husbands.

-As much as they complain, this is a group of the most fiercely loyal group of women you’ll ever get in a room together.

-They hear a whisper of a complaint about their husband? It’s over for you, you’ll be dead or wishing you were by dinner. They hear you praise their husband? You’re not leaving until they’ve told you every amazing thing their husbands have ever done in their lives.

The Ultimate Uniting Factor:

-There is one person, one man, in the entirety of the known and unknown galaxy who has the ability to bring these women, even the Red Lady and the Wolf Mother, together like nobody else: Big E

-If you mumble under your breath anything that could possibly be construed as a complaint against the Emperor of Mankind then you may as well have shined the Batsignal in the air because these women are coming out of the woodwork.

-Now they are all here and they have all involved you in a conversation that couldn’t be construed as anything but absolute treason if it were to come out of anyone else’s mouth

-If you were to put these women in a room together and point a camera at them and let them talk for a few hours, every single time it would devolve into irate ranting about Big E. You would never catch a kind word about Big E falling from their lips.

-The Emperor won’t step foot in the same zip code as these women because he understands that they are down every second of every day to literally evict him from life.

-The Emperor literally started a crusade as an excuse to leave Terra because he got word that the Khatun was on her way.

-Say what you will about the Emperor of Mankind, he’s smart enough to know that these women will end him where he stands if they ever get their hands on him.

[super-ion]

The Engineer

Part 4

(Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3)

I don't know where the pilot is taking me at first.

I am realizing that my life has just been an endless circuit of routine: Quarters. Gym. Cafeteria. Maintenance bay. Cafeteria. Quarters. Repeat. Everything outside of that has become an abstraction to me.

I can't even remember the last time I made my way up to the level. Everything here is shiny and pristine, scrubbed spotless twice a day on the off chance that some senator or general might visit. It's all clean lines, camouflaged access panels, trim little admin offices.

I very nearly have to stop and stare at a potted plant, when was the last time I saw one, verdant and alive?

But the pilot is moving with single minded purpose and I am forced to hurry to catch up.

I imagine her dragging me into the commandant’s office. I imagine her presenting me in formal complaint, the guilt of my sins, my intimacy with her machine, written plainly across my face.

She comes to a stop so suddenly that I almost collide with her. It is not the commandant’s office that we have arrived at.

The gilded signage on the door simply reads: OBSERVATION

She glances at me, briefly hesitating. In this entire encounter, it is the first moment of uncertainty that she has shown.

She swipes her wrist over the access panel, the door whispers open and I understand the hesitation and uncertainty.

Observation delivers exactly what it promises. The far side of the dimly lit room is dominated by floor-to-ceiling plex that overlooks the expanse of the maintenance bay.

My breath catches at the sight of Her.

Morrigan is resting in Her docking harness, Her heat sinks fully spread like the wings of an angel, armor plating unfolded to expose superstructure beneath, countless docking umbilicals arrayed almost organically to connect to the facility's systems.

It has been so long since I've actually seen Her, all of Her at once, that I've forgotten the scale of it all. My entire world has been the cockpit and the docking vestibule and now I can barely comprehend how small the team of techs are next to Her as they scurry along like ants.

Some tension leaves the pilot's shoulders and she strides towards the plex wall. She gazes upon the machine with adoration, the most emotion I have ever seen on her face. I start to imagine that I understand why she brought me here.

I step tentatively into the room. The door shuts behind me and the dim space is suddenly intimate.

Alone with the Pilot, her framed by the vista of Morrigan, the space feels almost holy. A shrine. A Goddess and Her human avatar.

I imagine Morrigan watching us. Maybe She can. Her visual sensors are specially designed to pick out details at a distance. Perhaps the Pilot told Morrigan exactly where and when we would be her.

Almost in answer to my thoughts, Her exposed core pulses, a blue-white flicker of light, and the Pilot places a hand tenderly on the plex.

My stomach lurches. It is no longer me alone with the Pilot in this room. It is all three of us. It is me alone with them. The suffocating sense of being an interloper returns in full force.

“I read all your reports,” the Pilot says without turning, without breaking her gaze from Morrigan. “It's like fucking Christmas for her. She just can't wait to show me what you found in your analysis.”

I stand awkwardly, unsure how to respond, or if I should respond at all.

“It's so fucking hard sometimes,” she continues, “they pull you out and you can't even tell who you are. You leave something behind and you take something with you.”

She turns abruptly, fixing me with the intensity of her gaze.

“What were you doing three nights ago?”

I had been expecting the question, dreading it, but the abruptness of it catches me off guard and fresh panic licks down my spine.

I open my mouth, but I can't bring myself to say anything.

She takes a step towards me. I step back instinctively. My back meets the wall.

“I already know,” she says, her tone unreadable. “I want to hear you say it. Your own words.”

I swallow. My eyes dart back to Morrigan. She is watching us. I know it. I know it from the now blazing light in Her core.

“I…”

I swallow again.

“I had a nightmare,” I admit. “I went to Morrigan.”

She takes another step forward. She's taller than me and I have to tilt my head back just slightly to meet her eyes.

“Why?”

“I didn't… I didn't want to be alone. I didn't know who else to go to. I... I wanted to be with her.”

Another step. She's close now, close enough to touch.

“Whose nightmares?”

Fuck.

“Yours,” I admit. “...and mine.”

“You think a lot about neural bleed.”

It isn't a question. I don't think it's a question. I nod in acknowledgement regardless.

“You think about how the patterns of thought and identity leave marks. Imprints. You're in her head, so you're in mine. The three of us, we're just this fucking tangle, aren't we?”

Fuck. What does she want from me?

I don't know if she expects me to answer that, but there's another moment of uncertainty from her.

“She wanted me to talk to you,” she says. “Or I wanted her to want me to talk to you. I don't even know. I don't fucking know who wants what any more.”

She looks… vexed now. That intense gaze of hers has taken on a slightly different gleam.

My heart is hammering in my chest and my breathing has become ever so slightly ragged.

Neural bleed. Two halves to a whole.

She is Morrigan. The human half. The physical half.

She lifts her hand and I stand motionless as she reaches out to touch my face. Her fingertips meet my cheek and she blinks, almost surprised to discover that I am real.

She takes a breath and the uncertainty is gone, leaving naked desire in its wake.

She shifts her hand, palm sliding along my cheek to the back of my neck, her fingers tangling in my hair. The feel of her skin against mine is enough to make me gasp.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” she tells me in a low whisper.

“Please don't stop,” I beg in reply.

[kimoralov3]

click cute - 16

<- previous next -> | masterlist

your suitcase rolls behind you as you step into the air bnb, taking in your surroundings. being friends with sarah definitely had it’s perks.

“y/n, you’re here!” you hear a voice call from the top of the stairs. you remove your glasses with a smile, bracing yourself as sarah runs up and hugs you.

“sarah! oh my god, you look so good! fresh highlights?” you ask as you pull away, taking in your friend’s new look.

“of course. you know i had to look good for vacation.” she says as she does a little shoulder shimmy. you snort at that. she was really something else. “how was your flight? sorry i couldn’t go with you, i had to get here early to make sure everything was all good.”

“girl, you flew us first class. even if i did have complaints, you would not be hearing anything from me.” you say as you loop your arms together. she throws her head back in laughter, bumping her hip with yours.

“glad you enjoyed it. only the best for my girls.” she says teasingly before turning her head towards the stairs. “john b! come down here really quick!”

the sound of quick footsteps follow sarah’s call, along with the visual of a brown haired boy taking the steps two at a time. “oh hey, you must be y/n.” he says as he holds his arm out for a handshake.

“yeah, i am! it’s nice to meet the guy sarah won’t shut up about.” you say, causing sarah to playfully elbow you in the side. john b laughs at that, pulling sarah closer to him and slinging an arm around her shoulders.

“all good things, i’d hope.” he says as he presses a kiss to her head. as much as you hated to admit it in an attempt of solidarity with lex, the two of them were cute together. really cute together. 

“so, is anyone else here? or are we the first ones?” you ask as you grab hold of your suitcase once more.

“oh no, jess and jj are upstairs ‘blessing’ their room.” sarah says with barely contained laughter. you make a face of disgust, a hand coming up to your chest.

“ew, gross. please tell me my room isn’t right next to theirs?” you ask with a laugh.

sarah quickly shakes her head. “oh no, i could never do that to you. me, john b, and lex’s room is right next to theirs.” she explains. oh, thank god. you could not handle sleeping next to an overly “touchy” couple and— wait a minute.

“wait, you guys are sharing with lex? why?” you ask as you look between the two of them. god, let’s put those facial muscles to use to hide your shock at how bad of an idea this was.

“there’s only four rooms. we figured jess and jj would need their own rooms, and pope and rafe can’t share for some reason—” sarah starts.

“rafe complains about pope staying up all night to play his games, pope complains about rafe waking up at ungodly hours to do his in room workout routines or whatever.” john b intercepts as he scratches his eyebrow. there was definitely a story there. 

“so i’m rooming with pope?” you ask for clarification. judging by the look on sarah’s face, that was not quite the case. 

“no, actually. you’re uh, you’re rooming with rafe.” she says, looking anywhere but your eyes.

this was fine. it wasn’t a big deal. the two of you had made up or whatever, so you weren’t really mad at him anymore. but there was that whole thing about you possibly hearing him call you cute, so it was still awkward, as some people would say.

“that’s fine!” you say, pretending not to notice how high your voice had gotten. you clear your throat before speaking again. “so, does that mean pope is rooming with cleo and aubs?”

“oh, yeah. there really wasn’t anywhere else to put him. plus you know how aubs is, she goes to sleep pretty late anyways.” sarah says. she had a point; you had woken up to one too many 2 am text messages from aubree about any and everything that was on her mind. 

“well good luck to pope.” you say with a chuckle, ignoring that pesky feeling in the pit of your stomach. you were overreacting, really. it wouldn’t be that bad, or awkward, or weird or whatever to room with rafe.

right?

taglist: @arkofblake @ivysprophecy @murdockcastleslut @lmaowhatt @fruitcakerafe @ayy1234567 @freyawhitexxx1 @my-name-is-baby @baocean @yesshewrites1 @gxuxhdjdu @cyberkitty1 @hypnotizedstarkey @eddxemxnson @amterasuu @bee-43 @dreamybabbyy @hello-therree @marleymarleymarleymarley @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @starsval @cali-888 @chalametlover444 @uarmyhopeworldwide

[smolkooks]

joshua hong's recipe for valentine's

summary: jisoo knows you like the back of his hand. he hopes. (he does). which almost makes asking you out for valentine’s day even more intimidating. 

pairing: joshua (svt) x you

genre: college au, fluff

*

“hey alexa,” joshua called out into the emptiness of his bedroom, “what the fuck am i supposed to do?”

the sound of jeonghan’s quip cut through the air before alexa could even process joshua’s complaint, “don’t think ai is equipped to help with your relationship problems.” jeonghan rounded the corner and popped his head through the door, an amused smirk quirking up the corner of his lips.

“there are no relationship problems!” joshua buried his hands in his hair, “there’s no relationship problems, that’s the problem,” his tone trailed off hopelessly as he banged his forehead onto the table hoping that the brief pain would knock some sense into his brain.

“haven’t you two known each other for like, most of college? i’m sure she won’t mind no matter what you do,” jeonghan offered, and joshua knew he was trying to be helpful but the advice only made him feel worse.

“you know that feeling,” joshua began, spinning around on his chair to face his friend, “when you know someone too well? when you feel like they’ve seen everything and nothing will surprise them? fuck, she’ll probably notice something in my expression the day before or like sniff me out when i slip up on a sentence or something.” usually, he loved how detail-oriented you were, but in moments like these, he wished you were a bit more oblivious.

“you’re giving her too much credit, man,” jeonghan said with a shrug, “don’t think she’s going to be that perceptive.” he appreciatively eyed the pastel bouquet and origami paper that joshua had strewn across his desk and then said, “there’s no way she’d see all of this coming.

“you don’t know her,” joshua groaned, already fearing the worst. he’d spent the better part of the week planning all your valentine’s day gifts—brainstorming and ripping his hair out and agitating over making every detail perfect. he was not about to let you sniff anything out or become at all suspicious beforehand.

he truly did know you too well, because his very first dilemma arose just an hour later, after jeonghan had left for his evening class and he was alone in his apartment, putting together your gift when his phone had pinged with a message.

from: y/nnie

josh wyd

to: y/nnie

lmao wtf so random

immediately he knew he’d fucked up. because texts at this time from you were a daily occurrence, and his response was too fucking unnatural. but unfortunately he’d been so preoccupied with folding origami puppies and tucking them into the bouquet he’d picked out earlier this morning and surprised by your text that he replied without thinking.

as he went to edit the message, your read receipt came through and he resisted the urge to cry as your typing bubble showed up.

from: y/nnie

don’t be weird...

from: y/nnie

if ur free i’m gonna come over i’m dropping something off

from: y/nnie

jeonghan said ur home

joshua’s eyes widened as he cast a glance over the ginormous mess on his desk. he’d been planning to meet you later tonight anyway, yes, but not immediately! he still had to put together the last of the origami animals and also finish off wrapping your actual gift...

but then again, if he said no, you would for sure instantly know something was up anyway, so there was absolutely no winning. not unless he became an origami monster immediately and finished your bouquet within the next five minutes.

panicked, he started to type a response:

to: y/nnie

give me like twenty min pls

ty

from: y/nnie

alr

cya

tossing his phone onto his bed, he locked into the origami flower youtube video that he was up to. he didn’t think he’d ever been so focused before, not even during his final exams, not even during his driving test, not even ever. there were high stakes at play here, and he was not about to let all his plans fall apart. in fact, he tried to convince himself, you coming over was a blessing. the thought of seeing you did put a smile on his face, as stressed as he was about the lopsided paper tulips that he was currently mass producing.

within ten minutes, he’d tucked the final ones of his origami projects between the pastel petals of the bouquet he’d picked out earlier in the morning and began to survey his next project: the actual gift.

gritting his teeth determinedly, he set to work.

*

joshua was being weird, you’d decided, as you switched off your phone with a frown. why did it feel like he was so nervous? you visited him and jeonghan’s dorm all the time, it wasn’t like an out of the blue event, right...?

the doubts continued to cloud your train of thought as you surveyed the gifts that you’d prepared. flowers, of course, for your best boy. bead sets, a new phone case, matching smiski hippers for the two of you, his favourite snacks...you’d gotten everything he’d mentioned wanting. (except for the apartment by the seaside. you weren’t financially successful enough yet for that. one day).

as far as relationships went, yours and joshua’s was relatively fresh despite having known each other ever since the first week of freshman year. you’d been together for two months give or take, just in time to settle down for a proper valentine’s day—your first with a boyfriend, and you were determined to make it the best.

you’d even purposefully visited him almost every evening so that your visit today wouldn’t seem as suspicious. you hoped he wasn’t suspicious. as you switched your phone back on and read over your chats again, you realised maybe you did come across a little nervous...drop something off? you were lucky he didn’t question it today. it was so vague, and at the same time, lowkey obvious considering the date...

you hoped he’d overlook it.

the trek to joshua and jeonghan’s apartment wasn’t far at all. in fact, he lived one building down the road, so carrying all your gift boxes wasn’t that much of a hassle. you’d made the walk so often that you knew it better than the back of your hand, so when you arrived at his door, you couldn’t help the familiar smile that curved on your lips.

“josh!” you called out alongside your knock.

you heard his faint response and then some banging around before the door finally opened.

“HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY!”

your overlapping voices made your eyes widen in shock. when you finally registered the sight in front of you, you realised joshua was also holding an armful of gifts—a massive bouquet of origami and real flowers blended together so prettily, and another bag of pristinely wrapped presents.

he seemed equally as shocked—his hair a little unkempt but still cute, glasses sitting low on the bridge of his nose as he blinked at you through the doorway—at all of the stuff that you were holding out to him.

“y/n,” he managed, as you huffed a laugh of disbelief, “there’s—what—wait, i was going to surprise you.” he glanced down pointedly at all the things in his arms, and you laughed in earnest.

“you did, josh,” you said with an amused giggle, finally stepping into the apartment and letting joshua shut the door behind you, “i think we scared the shit out of each other.”

you set down the bouquet you’d brought on his dining table as he did the same to the bouquet he had prepared, before he was ushering you to sit down, a faint blush on his cheeks as he said, “i can’t believe this.”

“great minds think alike!” you exclaimed, as you noticed the little puppies he’d tucked into the flowers, “wait, josh, hold on—,” you did a double take as you looked closer at the bouquet, “did you put sonny angels in the flowers?”

he sat down beside you and rolled his eyes in an ‘obviously’ way, “they’re your favourite, aren’t they?”

“stop it,” you said in disbelief, your surprise continuing to multiply, “you’re so crazy josh. this is why i love you.”

“because of the sonny angels in the flowers?”

it was your turn to roll your eyes as you shoved him a little, “no, idiot. because we know each other too well.”

[aaa-totodile]

Some Noah Kahan songs that remind me of Jason Todd and why (based on the tags from my first post)

False confidence - kinda Jason but definelty not the most, just the idea of wanting to be his younger self because of the benefits that go with it but Jason’s idea of his younger self is so so very tainted.

Mess - once again wanting to be like his younger self, trying to get that kid back but not being able to and therefor it’s tainted and whenever who he used to be is brought up it stings. But also his ties to Gotham as well

Come over - certain lines can work with his early childhood but really I’m mentioning it for the line “someday I’m gonna be somebody people want” (he won’t be but ughhh his want for that (I’m going to make a post about Jason and wanting just give me time to write it goddd))

Orange Juice - what was originally talked about, not necessarily the past alcoholism but his relationship with Bruce, if you’ve heard the song I feel this needs no further explanation

Strawberry wine - if you look at it in a non-romantic sense, you can look at it in the perspective of Bruce post Jason’s death

Growing sideways - his struggles with his mental health as a result of all the shit he’s been through. He ignores it and he moves sideways.

Halloween - once again others perspective of Jason during his time of death/not knowing he’s alive

Homesick - not the actual lyrics but the element of the song being Jason and his relationship with Gotham

Still - I can’t fully capture it without writing an essay so just listen to the song if you can. I would have to break down the whole song lyric by lyric

No complaints - the highest on this list, omfg it’s so him. Literally every single fricken line it’s ughhhhh, if you like Jason listen to the fucking song. But I will mention with all his issues he just doesn’t talk about anything or complain and says he’s fine and omfg just listen to the song

Call your mom - if someone canonically gave enough of a shit about this man consistently throughout the comics this song would be there perspective of him spiraling and not reaching out for help cause he thinks no one cares. Give this man at least one person who loves him unconditionally.

You’re gonna go far - him and Bruce, but honestly this song is Bruce with all his kids

Honorable mention that’s not a Noah song:

Eight by sleeping at last - whole song, literally written for him, everyone else go home

[eclipseohno]

Been in a bit of a Stanley Parable kick for a couple days and it's led me to think:

I'd like to imagine that Stanley didn't really start as, you know, an actual "person." He was created for the purpose of the story, a puppet, or vessel even, for the Narrator to utilize in the purpose of realizing his "perfect" story.

Maybe the first playthrough of the game is the moment Stanley "woke up." You wake up, you're alone, maybe a little confused, and there's this disembodied voice that seems to want to guide you somewhere. Not knowing what else to do, you follow. You see where that voice takes you. and then you do it again. Blinked back to the very beginning before you can properly take the "end" in.

Maybe the parable we see is the final version, where the Narrator is content with the tale he's finally spun. No complaints, no pauses, no sudden restarts or changes. If Stanley never did anything different, never deviated, nothing would ever change. How many times has he gone through this story, this looping existence within the office walls? How long has he really existed in the "betas," the "first drafts"?

It's odd, isn't it? How hard the Narrator fights you against the first big changes. If you were supposed to be able to deviate, to make choices, there would be no reason for him to fight Stanley's ever decision so hard. He's not supposed to go that way, do that, think that. He not supposed to be able to.

And so they begin to hate each other. Each try to force their idea of the "perfect story" upon the other. Stanley fights the cycle at every turn he can, unable to properly communicate his desires, because he was never supposed to have desires or the ability to alter his path. He desires freedom from the Narrator's critical, controlling, ego filled eyes so much that he's willing to kill himself over it over and over and fight and choose and run. The Narrator tries to show how in control he is, prove that the story is his. He wrote it, he tells it, he created Stanley, he's supposed to follow, listen, obey. And that lack of control is foreign, unsettling, wrong, if he's not in control, if it all spirals away from him, is it really his story? This story, that he poured so much time and effort and soul into, does it belong to him anymore?

Maybe the changes started small, Stanley taking a moment to read a board he didn't before. Sit behind his boss' desk waiting to see what happens if he never presses the key pad. Turns off every monitor he sees still running without a user. The Narrator doesn't even notice at first, so absorbed in his script. But as Stanley does more, small thing after small thing, he finally takes notice. At first, it no big deal, right? Not every loop has to be exactly the same, that would become incredibly dull. Even he can admit that. Maybe his subconscious is... projecting upon Stanely or something.

Clearly in the game we see there are other omnipresent characters similar the the Narrator, like the Curator or Time Keeper. What if there's more than one Narrator, each telling their own stories, creating their own parables? Minor alterations to individual actions by the protagonists aren't uncommon. Why worry?

But then. One day, Stanley chooses the right door. And it all crumbles. That level of deviation? Unheard of. Impossible.

And yet, there Stanley is. Choosing the the path to the right, the wrong way. What else can the Narrator do but desperately try and take back control?

That's how it all starts, anyways. The fighting, friction, condescension, animosity. But they're all each other have. The Narrator has no equal in his story, and Stanley has no coworkers or family or friends or anything. The don't, can't understand each other, but it's all thay have.

But by the time the additional "content" of the Ultra Deluxe comes around? That's changed. They've learned, at least a little, to lean on each other, get along.

Maybe, over time, Stanley finally learns to express himself in little ways. Notes, expressions, gestures, emotions. What started out as nothing more than and emotionless doll slowly picks up on how to express who he is. At the start, when he first becomes sentient, there's nothing. No expressions, no gestures, no sort of attempted communication. But reset after reset, choice after choice, he figures out who he is and learns to express that.

The Narrator slowly comes to see Stanley as more person than puppet. They communicate in little ways every so often. Push the limits of the parable to see how far they can break it with out it utterly shattering and laugh about it. Even though they can never interact face to face, they learn to accept their places with each other and build an odd almost friendship.

Compare the og apartment ending with the bucket version. The old and the new. The Narrator goes from bullying Stanley for his decisions to worrying about his mental state as he becomes obsessed with the bucket. He still has that high and mighty attitude, but he is genuinely concerned for Stanley.

There's still that push between the two every so often, but it's been so normalized between the two of them they hardly notice.

Tldr; they're silly and I love their dynamic a lot.

[michuga]

beautiful, dirty, rich 1

your entire life is a façade; to be rich, you have to act rich. until you meet someone who shows you that some things, you simply can't cheat your way into.

pairing: ceo jeongguk x fraud reader

warnings: swearing, catfishing, manipulation

a/n: my first series.. a bit nervous about it, but please let me know what you think :) enjoy!

to be rich, you have to act rich.

you and your roommate and best friend of many years, eunji, have been pretending to be rich for the past two years.

you were skeptical at first, but when you got into your first paris fashion show, that's when you knew this might actually succeed.

apparently, when people think you're important, they give you everything you want.

it started with a dare.

eunji’s balancing a cheap bottle of rosé on her knee, scrolling through instagram. "bet we could sneak into that," she says, flashing her screen at you. paris fashion week, influencers dripping in designer clothes, flashing cameras, and velvet ropes.

you laugh it off at first. but the idea lingers. later that night, after too much alcohol and not enough common sense, you both raid your closets, throwing together outfits that almost look designer if you squint hard enough. a pair of knockoff sunglasses here, a thrifted blazer there. you practice your walk in the mirror; chin up, eyes forward, head held high.

the next day, you arrive at the venue, hearts pounding. but something strange happens.

as you look straight ahead and strut right through, the security guy barely glances at you. the crowd parts. the cameras flash; maybe by accident, maybe not. but no one stops you.

later, sitting in the back row with a glass of champagne you definitely didn’t pay for, eunji leans over, whispering, "that was too easy."

one fashion show turns into another. and another. soon, you’re not just sneaking in—you’re invited. or at least, that’s what people think.

you start studying the scene. watching how the rich move, how they talk. the subtle flexes: a casual mention of a vacation home in the maldives, an offhand complaint about a yacht’s engine problems.

you learn to drop hints without overplaying your hand. eunji masters the art of the perfect instagram post, carefully curating your shared feed to make it look like you’ve been living this life forever.

it's been your party trick ever since.

that wasn't your last brush with wealth.

as you got bolder, you started going to places you purposely knew rich people frequented. or at least that's what the internet told you.

rooftop bars with $20 cocktails, hotel lobbies where the marble floors gleamed a little too brightly, art galleries where the paintings were just as pretentious as the people admiring them. you and eunji would walk in like you owned the place.

it was easy, once you realized how little it took to blend in.

the rules were simple: look the part, play the part, and never let them see you sweat. you and eunji learned that fast. wealth wasn’t about money; it was about perception.

the rich weren’t just beautiful and powerful—they were dirty.

it's a dirty game you were playing. a dirty game in a filthy world.

it wasn’t just about sneaking into fashion shows or getting free drinks.

no, the game got dirtier the deeper you went. men with too much money and too little conscience started noticing you. you knew their type—married with a mistress on speed dial, or single but treating women like accessories to match their suits.

none of them were good men. they were the kind who treated waiters like furniture, snapping their fingers to call them over; like they were at their beck and call. the kind who thought their money could buy loyalty, love, you.

the first time a man offered to buy you something outrageous, it was in one of those places. a dimly lit bar at the top of a five-star hotel, where the view of the city felt like it was reserved for people with trust funds and offshore accounts. you were sitting at the bar, swirling a drink you could barely afford, when he slid into the seat next to you.

stephen, with a p. mid-thirties, expensive watch, the kind of suit that whispered old money.

the conversation started the way it always did—where you’re from, what you do, the kind of small talk that feels like a performance. you mentioned, offhandedly, that your laptop was on its last leg, crashing mid-paper like it had a personal vendetta against your degree. you didn’t expect much from it; just a throwaway comment. that was your humor.

but then he laughed, like it was cute, like you were cute. and with the ease of someone who never had to check their bank account, he said, "send me the specs. i'll take care of it."

you nearly choked on your drink. but you kept your cool, because that’s the rule. don't ogle and squeal like a damn fool; act like you’ve been here before. like men buying you thousand-dollar electronics is just another thursday.

later that night, when you stumbled back into your apartment—tiny, cramped, with the leaky faucet you never got around to fixing—eunji was waiting. the second you closed the door behind you, the facade cracked, you could finally breathe. you both screamed into pillows, half in disbelief, half in exhilaration, like teenagers who’d just pulled off the ultimate prank.

two days later, the laptop arrived. brand new, still in the box, with that fresh-out-the-factory smell.

you and eunji hovered over it like it was some kind of sacred artifact.

"i'll be damned," she said in amusement, hands on her hips.

with a shrug you add, "money talks."

you weren’t just scraping by anymore—you were winning. and that was just the beginning.

the next guy flew you out to milan for the weekend because you joked about never having seen italy. the one who “accidentally” upgraded your hotel suite to a penthouse overlooking the seine.

after that, the finance bro who bought you a cartier bracelet after a month of dating, saying it matched your “timeless beauty.” you still wore it sometimes, not because of him, but because it reminded you of the game you were playing—and winning.

they never really had you. you were always three steps ahead, smiling just enough, leaning in just close enough, keeping them wrapped around your finger while you stayed untouchable at a safe distance.

you and eunji would come home after these nights, collapse onto your couch, and laugh until your stomachs hurt. you’d trade stories like war veterans, compare gifts, and toast to the next big score with whatever cheap wine you had in the fridge.

it wasn’t just about the gifts. It was the thrill of it. the rush of knowing you were beating a system that was never designed for girls like you.

but the thing about dirt—it clings to you, even when you’re wrapped in silk and drowning in champagne.

they were predators, but so were you.

or at least, you learned to be.

it was in the lies you told, the masks you wore, the way you started to forget where the real you ended and the act began.

it was fun at first—a joke, a thrill. but somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling like a game. the stakes got higher, the lines got blurrier, and you started wondering if you could ever really wash it all off.

because in this world, the glitter hides the grime. and the higher you climb, the harder it is to tell the difference.

this summer, you and eunji decided to take your two-woman show to monaco. the billionaire's playground.

back at your hotel room, both of you get ready. the faint hum of city traffic seeps in from the cracked window, mingling with the low hum of your shared playlist. your shared room smells like dry shampoo and overpriced perfume samples swiped from department store counters.

you each had a small collection of luxury items you took extra care of, only ever dry cleaning them and wearing them with the utmost care. you exchanged clothes when you wanted to switch it up, relying on each other to keep the ruse going.

your suitcase lies open on the bed, its contents meticulously arranged: the few luxury items you’ve both collected over the years like precious artifacts. a chanel blazer you snagged from a thrift store but had tailored to perfection, a pair of louboutin heels eunji found on ebay, scuffed on the sole but flawless everywhere else, a silk gucci scarf you both swear was a lucky find, even though you’re pretty sure it’s a knockoff.

eunji stands at the mirror, her hair twisted into loose waves, holding up two dresses; one black, one red. she eyes your reflection in the mirror.

"thoughts?"

you glance over from where you’re carefully steaming your blouse, a saint laurent that’s been dry-cleaned more times than you can count.

"the red says 'i own a yacht', but the black says 'i own the company that makes yachts'," you reply.

giggling, she sets the red dress back down to put the black on. "got it."

eunji moves to your side, rifling through your jewelry tray—the bracelet you share, the pearl earrings you got from that flea market but pretend are heirlooms.

grabbing the bracelet, she clasps it around your wrist with practiced ease.

"you wear this tonight. it matches you."

you nod, adjusting the bracelet on your wrist; your good luck charm. meanwhile, she slips into your heels. it’s routine by now, this exchange of identities, this careful curation of the personas you took on.

before heading out, you both step back to inspect each other in the mirror. you take turns doing a spin, making sure no left detail leaves way to reveal yourselves. one wrong move, one slip-up, and the illusion cracks.

word travels fast in this world, everyone is connected; the rich were very particular and serious about the company they keep. and you definitely couldn't afford to be blacklisted, shunned. not when you've come this far.

from the outside, you look like you belong to this world—lounging on fat trust fund bank accounts in tiny bikinis and piña coladas in your hands.

but only you and eunji know the truth; hiding in the tags carefully tucked away, credit card limits stretched thin, and whispered pep talks in hotel rooms like this one.

eunji grins, grabbing her clutch.

"eat the rich, baby."

and with that, you’re out the door, high on adrenaline, walking the thin line between who you are and who the world thinks you are.

fake it till you make it, right?

you never would have imagined faking it would get you invited to one of monaco's most famous fundraisers held for a-class actors celebs and trust fund babies.

the rooftop hums with soft jazz, laughter, and the faint clink of crystal glasses. dim lighting envelops the space, the kind that makes everything feel like a secret.

eunji grins, checking herself in a nearby mirror one last time. "you know, if we pull this off tonight, drinks are on me."

"if we pull this off tonight, drinks are on him." you shoot her a look, nodding to an older man at the bar. she laughs, playfully hitting you.

"i'm gonna be right back." eunji says, pointing to the bathroom.

with a smile and a nod, you make your way over to the bar. sitting down, you order a glass of wine.

you see her before she sees you.

she was elegant, poised, the kind of woman you'd see in old black and white movies. she also took a seat right next to you.

"i'll have what she's having" the woman motions her hands to the bartender, referring to you.

intrigued, you silently sip on your drink.

"i don't believe we've met," she starts, finally addressing you.

"there are many people here," you jest.

"and i know almost every single one of them," she says with a chuckle, one eyebrow raised. "i'm isla. isla montgomery."

as you exchange introductions, she makes small talk. you soon learn about her travels and the two companies she owns.

you don't share much about yourself, and she doesn't pry, either. it seems that she's very fond of herself; which is probably for the best.

feeling a tap on your shoulder, eunji finally graces you with her presence, two eons later.

giving isla an apologetic smile, you excuse yourself. mirroring your smile, she gestures for you to go, assuring you it's no worry.

"who was that?" eunji inquires as you both walk away.

"isla montgomery." you mock with a sarcastic tone and a roll of your eyes, glancing at eunji.

"very fancy," eunji laughs.

spotting a private blackjack table sits slightly apart from the crowd; you and eunji eventually make your way over there.

you watch as men with gold chains and women sprawled across their laps make starting bets with a few months' worth of rent, more or less.

lapping around the table from a distance, you slowly make note of their cards. their movements. their thought processes. you’ve been watching the table for an hour, quietly cataloging every tell, every mistake masked by arrogance and overpriced whiskey.

one guy was doomed the minute he was dealt his hand, a few couldn't bluff to save their lives.

either way; you already knew who would win.

about a half hour later, the result was as you had predicted.

"hey, i'm gonna tap in next round," you inform the croupier.

he nods, preparing your chips.

"what? are you serious?" eunji whisper-yells at you, lightly holding your arm to stop you. "there is no way you can go toe to toe against men who have nothing to lose! you'll be betting on your hard-earned life savings, for god's sake!"

"which is why i won't lose." you affirm.

confidence is everything in your world. it's what got you here in the first place.

"everyone at that table was horseshit. i think i have a fair shot."

"sounds like someone's confident," you hear a presence make itself known behind you.

turning around, your eyes meet the source of the voice.

a chiseled face, every line etched with precision; features carved like stone, softened by the warmth in his eyes.

a tall, well-groomed man who looks only relatively older than you and eunji.

not to mention incredibly sexy. and filthy rich, judging by the sheer amount of body jewelry he's wearing.

he raises a brow and nods his head towards the blackjack table, "think you can take my buddy taehyung?"

you follow his gaze to the blonde—taehyung. you remember him.

slick, confident, a little too eager when he thought no one was paying attention. one of the better ones, but still horseshit.

"how much you wanna bet?"

there’s no pause. no calculation. just the soft clink of his glass against the marble bar as he sets it down and says,

"i'll bet a million on you, golden girl."

the words hang there, heavier than the jazz, sharper than the city lights glittering below.

you blink, processing. you thought he was going to bet on his buddy. that’s how these games work; back your guy, show loyalty, play it safe.

but he’s not playing safe. he’s betting on you.

your pulse kicks up, but you don’t show it. instead, you lean in slightly, your voice low, laced with the same easy confidence he just threw at you.

"a million? you sure you’re not drunk?"

his grin is lazy, but his eyes are razor-sharp. "not drunk. just good at reading people"

you pick up your drink, letting the cool glass ground you, then glance back at taehyung. "let's see what blondie's got."

a million. jesus.

these people really have nothing better to do with their money.

despite your shock, you were just glad you didn't have to bet with your own money.

you move toward the table, every step deliberate, like you’ve already won. in reality, you were just trying to fathom what you got yourself into.

showtime.

you're not supposed to be here. not at this party, not at this table. but here you are, sliding into the empty seat like you own it, your dress catching the light just enough to look expensive. despite your internal panic, you don't fidget. that’s the rule. act like you belong, and no one will question it.

and never, ever show weakness. the lions won't hesitate to pounce.

you play with calm precision, not reckless but with just enough boldness to stir curiosity. you don't count cards, you read people.

betting when others hesitate, folding with a slight smirk like you know more than you let on.

years of quietly observing wealth were being put to the test, at this very moment.

you’re dealt a 9 of hearts and a 6 of spades; that’s 15. not great.

taehyung has a face card showing: an 8 of diamonds. strong position.

you get another card: 5 of clubs. now you’ve got 20—almost perfect.

everyone expects you to stand. it’s the smart move.

but you don’t.

you tap the table. "hit me."

gasps ripple around the table. the dealer hesitates, then deals. 9 of spades. you bust with 29. game over.

taehyung smirks as he plays his hand, thinking you’re reckless. jeongguk watches closely, his interest sharpened.

"guess i was feeling bold," you say, flashing a sheepish smile.

everyone assumes you've made a rookie mistake. they laugh it off, but in that split second, you've done something much more subtle: you've read taeyhung's body language.

he doesn't leave himself open for too long, immediately putting his poker face back on.

but you've already seen it—that tiny flinch in his jaw when you hit on 20. he wouldn’t have risked it. he’s cautious, calculated. but now? now you’ve thrown him off balance.

you've watched him closely, just long enough to notice the tiny flinch when you hit on 20. he doesn’t want to take risks like you did—he’s more cautious—but his pride won’t let him stand back and let you crash and burn. he watches you, and that tiny hesitation is all you need.

so when he faces a similar hand, he hesitates; like you had expected.

your words from earlier echo in his head: "the bold move is the smart move."

the smart move is to stand. but the weight of his friend's million-dollar bet on you lingers in the air, clouding his judgement. he starts to second guess himself.

taehyung knows he can't lose here, not after all the bluster. he should stand, but he feels the weight of the moment. it’s too much.

looking around, he tries to read the room.

taehyung picks up on the tension. if you're confident enough to risk hitting on 20, maybe you know something he doesn’t.

you smile next to him, tilting your head like you've already won.

his ego can't handle it.

and so he taps.

pushing away your chips, you get up. as you rise from your seat, you lean down, voice low enough for only him to hear.

"you play the cards. i play the player."

it hits him right as the dealer flips taehyung’s hidden card. he had 15, just like you did earlier. thinking you were reckless, he copied your moves.

he hit when he should’ve stood—

—and bust.

jeongguk chuckles quietly, not surprised.

"she's good."

you walk back over to him. leaning back against the bar, a slow grin spreads on his face.

"i didn’t bet on you to win the hand. i bet on you to win the game."

and you did.

maybe not the blackjack game, but you won the game.

leaning into his ear, you whisper, "what's a million anyway, right?"

with a soft triumphant smirk, you straighten up and walk away.

next >

series masterpost | masterlist | taglist

taglist: @rpwprpwprpwprw

[haveihitanerve]

Le Ingredients: Papa needs to calm- Papa needs- papa-oy..

Hope you enjoy this insanity as much as I did! Lets go!:

“Should we just start off with ingredients?” I love it soo so so much when they turn to each other and ask, because usually the person who introduces the idea of the long form just has final say because they’re the ones talking(and they know each other well enough at this point to know which titles would make a good story for them/the others to develop) but i still love seeing them actually ask its so cute

“Thats how you start a recipe lets do it!” Damn Sam, thats so smooth. I forget sometimes this is their job lol

“Damn hes good.” lol exactly!

“All i need from you to get us started is- is some forced applause okay?” LMAOO TOM

“Thats why I married you.” AJ: *blinks. Pause. Ok sam. ok.* LMAOOO he did not see that coming

“I love you so much.” Lunges for Sam and kisses him so well he has to take a moment to recover is crazzyyyy XD

“Papa gets stressed.” Grins because he knows- he fucking knowss what he’s doing

“Papa needs to calm down.” Now Sam is in on it, even coming up behind ooohhh this is not how quickly i expected this to go-no complaints tho

“Papa needa calm- papa-oy-” Oh AJ did not expect Sam to go along lmaooo its too much for him

“I gave the 4-5 to.. James.. And *searches mind palace for another name* Tiffany.” XD

“ITALY!!!” *goes for a high five, gives Sam .2 seconds to reciprocate and gives up* “OkaY!!...”

“I love you.” “i love you too.” SAM FUCKING WINKS FUCKING WHAT. oh my gods… im going insane wow ok…

(also the absolutely no reaction from AJ, just a slight smile is killing me he was completely prepared for Sam to wink and acted like it happens on the daily and oh my gods)

*gasps dramatically* is Aj calling a side chick rn? No Aj! Bad AJ! Please give us a happy relationship…

Sam answering the phone XD

“She is gone is she? Where?” “I think to the toilet.” AJ… “is that what she said?” Sam is flabbergasted as to how AJ already forgot XD

Oh no, ok so AJ is planning something, what no one knows, not even him, but hes not cheating on his wife so we’re all good

“You need to bet in the papers.” “Did you say bet in the papers?” “No i said get in the papers.” mhm… sure Sam. sure. Also, thanks for giving us an actual plot of what aj is attempting to do???

AJ hanging up and then resuming his excellent stage craft of making food while waiting for either someone to join him or to end the scene- his little smile is so cute because he cant do anything unless someone else joins him XD

Sam just fucking screeching and AJ’s little jolt of surprise

[continuous cries of pain and choking for a disturbingly long time]

Tom sitting right next to Sam just :D watching to see what AJ’ll do next without bothering to move to help either one at all XD

AJ slowly breaking, a small smile, little flinch when Sam screams renewed, and shoulders shaking, while Tom props his arm up, classic Tom pose with his fingers over his mouth as he watches, they're so cute

*he is still going btw*

“HOT HOT! HOT! HOOOOOOTTT!” oh so he has words now, nice

[renewed cries of pain and??? drowning???]

[that also go on for a very long time and then eventually, slooowwwwlllllyyyyy die down]

Tom breaking and looking at Sam like “you good? You about done now?” 🫠😭

AJ taking a breath because its finally done

Sam: AUGH!! AJ: *pulls out a shotgun and fucking shoots him*

Sam himself finally ending the scene wth XD

Tom standing up resignedly as AJ finally gets to laugh off stage about Sam being weird 

“Morning chief.” Tom did not want that to be his character, as we can tell by his little sigh and AJ’s/Sam’s laughter at him. “Good morning.” why does he sound russian/like a vampire

“Any weird crimes happen yesterday?” Tom does his classic “ehhhhh.” nod. Love love love

“I've been up all night, its-” “what exactly happened?” AJ and Sam having shit eating grins because they made everything happen and are now forcing Tom to come up with the actual concrete details of the plot because they’re little shits like that XD

“I've only had time to watch it three times, it kept going y'know?” Shade thrown Sam’s way, very nicely done, and still being very obscure because he doesn't wanna build the plot lmaooo

“You know… you know octopuses?” Tom w h a t. Sam’s confused chuckle before he covers it because Tom. w h a t. 

“My story is always straight.👹” turns demonic for a second. Sam:... ok weird thing to say…

“So they serve octopus, paeiella.” …what. “Sorry?” Even Sam is knocked off guard. 

“Its a spanish dish.” “yeah.” Sam got that part. “Paella?” He knows what its called. “Octo- Let me finish why are you interrupting?” yes, act offended, perfect

“Shut your tiny mouth down.” even weirder thing to say but i dig it, keep going

“And thats not very nice, you know Im very insecure about the size of my mouth.” lmaooo Sam making it personal

“Its a small mouth are we meant to pretend?” Tom is not gonna let anything go, got it. “Meant to pretend its a normal sized mouth?” 

“okay come on lets move on.” Sam attempting to move the plot along

“Its dainty.” Tom not letting that happen “we like it, but its dainty.” Aj just grinning from off stage because he doesn't have to worry about plot or saying words properly

“So theres this octopus, and its in the paeilia.” (autocorrect tried to spell it correctly, but no, this is how tom spells it so this is how we spell it)

Sam folding, Aj laughing, and Tom being confused and defensive, amazing

“Cant pronounce that word, can you?” XD poor tom…

“PAIEALLLA!!!” Yes Tom, saying it louder means you are correct

“Paella.” That, strangely enough, autocorrect didn't want to change… suspicious

“Nooooo….” tom XD help-

“Im saying it the italiano way.” “oh I see. Wrong.” DAMN SAM!!! DAMN XD

“Anyway, octopus paella-” “octopus paeylla.” Tom- Aj loosing it on the side and Sam having to lean away, folding again. LMAOOO as Tom just stands there, like “what?” XD

“You sound like every time you say it, like you're having a mini stroke.” Sam will not let this go- also i've seen clips of this scene before and wow it goes on much longer than i believed lmaooo

AJ trying to recover and loosing it again when Sam says “mini stroke’ bending over fully and smacking his leg, amazing

“I will.. Get someone else.” now thats a threat. I think he means just in general, replacing Sam with a new improv group XD

“The other can do this just as well.” Aj your position off stage and not in the scene is being threatened. 

“What- you've just drawn an octopus so far. How does that *breaks, finally and laughs* help? I don't need pictograms *AJ cackling as he folds again, Sam trying to recover but failing* its not fucking ancient egypt.” this is glorious how did Tom manage to turn the tides on sam when its not even fucking real what hes doing LMAOOO XD

“Octopus- *disgruntled and aggressive glare at sam* paella.” Sam: *cheeky shit smirks and hold up a finger*-better!

“I work so hard.” we see you tom, we know, keep up the good work. 

“Octopus paeialla” he was so close!

“An octopus dish.” they have taken all the wind from his sails lmaooo

“Yum this delicious.. dish.”  poor baby XD

“I got to the big deal and you're just cutting off me!!!!!!” tom, where are these english degrees thats not proper word positioning in a sentence tsk tsk lol

“Were going back to the start!” Angry tom. “Octopus paeilla.” hes given up on all of them XD

“By the paella or by the octopus?” sam knew what he was trying to say and is just making life hard at this point XD and we love him for it

“AHHHHHH!” tom is ready to strangle him XD

*long winded explanation that periodically is interrupted by Tom *wiggle arms* and Aj laughing* and the woman is dead.  Well that wrapped up nicely…

“Si.” “Si?” “... yes.” Sam is just fucking with him now XD “Si. Yes.” *Tom is going insane* “what?” his little arm flaps at Sam hes so confused and concerned XD 

Meanwhile AJ: *loosing it offstage*

“Why are you questioning me?” I love the way he suddenly inhaled helium and is eight octaves higher, adore

“I think, open and shut case.” “octopus breaks into restaurant, *Aj’s giggle* hides into a paella, *deep breath* and then strangles *Tom: paeilla* (tom baby no) a woman.” “Si. ANd fire.” yes, yes Sam, don't forget the fire. 

“Maybe the octopus did it, i don't fucking know.” Sam is just done lmaoo

“Dina, dina come in.” AJ’s nod at Sam that ‘yes, you are dina, my wife, come here’ and Tom being extra “ill leave.” 

“Really?” Sam is shocked lmaooo, so much so he forgets his accent XD

“Why are the italians so fucking mental.” lmaooo- Translation: why are you two idiots so fucking mental, cant we have a normal fucking skit for once

“Its- is terrible.” Brilliant acting Aj, 10/10, everyone believes that you think its terrible

“Babi-” did he forget the name or is this his italian pet name for his wife? 

AJ’s smile and his correction- “dina” reveals the first(or its his weird italian way of saying “babe” or smth but nobody got it so he had to clarify lol)

“You only call me Babi when you're lying.” 

“This is your restaurant.” “yes?” aj is unaware how this is relevant. “This is so far very much within your wheelhouse.” LMAOOO

Aj’s hand still on Sam’s shoulder🫠

“Where would I find an octopus-” “you're a chef! Its one of the ingredients-!” Sam is loosing it XD

“But where would I find an octopus that has the ability to strangle someone and set itself on fire. *starts grinning* its so stupid.” It is indeed, and we love it

“I know about your circus past.” DAMN! The way AJ’s smile dropped so fast is incredible holy shit

“Don't you ever-” Both Sam and AJ break with laughter because honestly, what is this storyline XD

“The english mafia.” AJ fighting a smile🫠😭

*pulls out his actual, genuine iphone* look at this, Starling Bank *grins* What number does it say, from last nights revenue. Say it out loud.” AJ forcing Sam to create this, beautiful XD

Sam actually doing something on AJ’s phone lol, so sweet

“Two-” “two million euros.” Said in unison while grinning at each other- ill be right back let me just go cry in the corner-

Tom: *stands, ready to join the scene* Sam: the octopus! Tom: *look of disappointment and annoyance the way only good friends can convey with a single look*

All three of them laughing at the joke together im gonna cry theyre so cute

Tom’s head tilt- sobbing🫠

“No stop it!” Aj has to step in to defend him XD

Sam still losing it at his own joke while Tom just stares at him, done

“Let him be the character he wanted to be!” AJ!!! help- XD

“Do you have something to mention on the octopus. *voice shaking with laughter* whoever you may be.” Tom: *just starts fucking honking????* XD LMAOO

“Me and my comically large feet.” Puts foot up on chair where AJ’s hand was a second ago, moves it away before he places it because he saw it coming. Almost loses his balance- Sams hand snaps up and stabilizes him as Aj grabs the chair and his foot😭*sobs in the corner in i want their friendship*

THE WAY SAMS PHONE TURNS OFF RIGHT AS TOM SNAPS IS INSANEE

“Is he a clown or magician?” Tom: *eyes light up in idea* both! *fwish* flowers? Tom stop being sweet to AJ’s wife, this isn't a cheating story.. Also- the true magic is that hes wearing short sleeves, so he pulled the flowers out of his wrists… 

“Its a bird!” thank you for sharing Tom XD

The way they're all standing in like a triangle just periodically smiling at each other when they’re not the ones actively participating in the scene is too cute

“They have magicians at the circus right?” Noooot… really, but now really isn't the time to ask, that would have been like… a few seconds ago lol

Sam and AJ laughing, Sam releasing air like a balloon while AJ just chuckles, staring at tom incredulously like “you're asking this now??” and Tom just smiles and goes “yeahh.” and i love that for all of them

“This marriage is over!” NOOOO “No!” Sam: :) Si. LMAOO

“Remember,” Aj dropping a few inches in height just so Tom seems even taller is crazy mental and i love him for it

“The big top always comes out.. On top.” AJ’s surprised burst of a laugh is everything to me, including his little victorian hand over the mouth

Tom backing up while making clown honk noises and AJ tries desperately not to laugh

“Its like seven in the afternoon.” Tom: *really?* seven in the afternoon? Thats why!

“Im sorry, I’ve been up all night with duolingo trying to learn spanish words,*sam’s slow growing joy as the sentence progresses, AJ’s laugh in the back* apparently my pronunciation is terrible.” LMAOO Tom never change XD

Tom ever so casually just shutting the door in Sam’s face as he starts to ramble is a power move and also crazy

“I thought we could do this bit off stage because its really just… *flaps arms tiredly* they already know.” Sam laughs and does, in fact, end the scene lol

“Dmitri!” Tom: *speaks Russian gibberish back* AJ: *pauses, did not expect that, has to smile* don't speak russian! Fuckin- *cant think of something not xenophobic to say*-do it now!

“I have a successful restaurant-” Tom comes fucking floating in like hes the Ghost of Somerset past or smth weird like that..

AJ: *bamboozled but keeps talking, glancing at Tom like ‘what do you want now’* they're all so tired and done with each other its absolutely amazing

Tom weirdly hugging Aj… its just cute even if its weird…anyway…

“My name is.. Uh…” AJ not sure if hes been given a name, if he has a name, if he can come up with a name, or if waiters even introduce themselves. They don't, especially not if hes just serving food and not there to just grab orders, but he’s realizing that slowly XD

“I wanted some of your… paillllaa.” Tom, just… keep trying bud, you're doing great. Sam’s laugh off stage is amazing too

“You are under arrest.” AJ’s smile of ‘wow okay already? We moved fast tom, but ok..” “on suspicion of octopus” Tom, never change XD

“And we will kill no more women in here.” Sam and AJ having a stare down while Tom does a fourth wall break, iconic as always

“Everybody hear that? So, if any of you were thinking of doing a murder, n- you cant!” and thats- thats final!!! So says Tom! lmaooo

“I've got one last ingredient for you” *does stagecraft of taking off a ring, but maybe thats not obvious enough* “my wedding ring.” Tom: *nope we cant have that* thats actually contraband… so.. 

All of them cracking at Tom’s last joke

Also the way Tom was still cradling AJ’s hands… 😭

AND SCENE

ANyway this was absolutely delightful, loved the delightful arguing, the... i dont wanna say eye-fucking because they weren't doing that, maybe eye-shitting-on-each-other?? anyways it was amazing as always, they're too fucking cute and I love

This is also one of the first skits I've seen where AJ is equally as done with Sam and Tom as they are with him, and its delightful lmaoo

@dawn-speckled thank you for the rec! @snek-of-eden

[darnell-la]

Hopefully not to gross. But, I just have been thinking about Logan forcing his cock down his girls throat but he’s so big and rough it makes her vomit. Then instantly going from rough to apologetic when she’s upset

note: PLEASE READ ^^ this is unlike any story we have posted before, and we’d like to make sure whoever reads this will not give any kind of complaints. Thank you!

———

“C’mere,” Logan grabbed a handful of y/n’a hair and pulled her into the bathroom. They had been arguing for what felt like hours in an empty hallway about the mission Logan almost blew because of the way another man touched y/n’s hip.

“Logan, we’re undercover — Shit happens!” Y/n shouted at the man, which instantly put her on her knees. “Don’t fucking care,” Logan growled between his teeth as he reached into his pants to pull himself out.

“Logan, we’re working-“ Before y/n could’ve finished her sentence, the man pushed through her lips. He wasn’t fully hard yet, but he was still hung. That was one good dangerous thing about him.

“You think you’d enjoy this if it was him? Huh!?” Logan asked as he snapped his hips, making sure all that came out of y/n’s mouth were moans and saliva that made its way down her jaw.

“Oh, and believe I’ll send you right back out there to him, looking just like this,” Logan said as he wiped across y/n’s face a few times, smearing her makeup until she started slapping his hands away.

“Now do you think he’ll still want you after seeing you like this? Huh? Huh!?” The man asked as he kept pounding into y/n’s mouth relentlessly.

“No, he won’t — Only I like you like this, Bub, and only I can fucking see you like this,” Logan said right as his cock twitch. As soon as he got fully hard down y/n’s throat, he couldn’t hold himself back.

Y/n slapped Y/n Logan’s lower stomach, trying to tell him that she couldn’t breathe and that he was too far down her mouth, but he wouldn’t put his thrusts to a halt.

“Right there,” Logan growled as he spilled into her mouth. It felt good for a while until y/n began to cough. Within seconds, everything came up, and out of her mouth.

Logan quickly pulled back, not knowing what happened first until he watched her vomit over the bathroom floor.

“Oh, shit,” Logan said as he got to his knees and put a hand on her back to comfort her in some way. The man shook as y/n got everything out that needed to come out.

“Fuck, y/n- I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking-“ Logan tried saying until he was pushed away. “Fuck off!” Y/n’s voice died halfway through her speaking. She could feel the slight pain, and taste of what she had just let out.

“Baby, I didn’t- Baby, I’m sorry,” Logan said as he got up and got a bunch of wipes from the cabinet that was in the fancy bathroom. “Are you okay? Babe, please speak to me — Tell me, are you okay?” Logan asked as he began cleaning the floor.

Y/n didn’t answer the man. She continued coughing to make sure everything was out of her system.

Tears filled Logan’s eyes, feeling like he had done something he could never come back from. “Baby, please — I’m so sorry,” Logan said as he grabbed y/n’s face softly to wipe her down and clean her up.

“I-I didn’t know you couldn’t take it — I was just- I was thinking of myself and thought you’d be okay, because we always go through, and I couldn’t think about another man on you, and I just-“

“Logan, shut up! Please, just- God, relax — I’ll be fine,” y/n grabbed some towels from Logan before pushing him away. “God, you’re just so fucking annoying,” was all y/n could say.

“I’m sorry,” Logan said, wanting to break down right then and there. Y/n looked at Logan, hoping he wasn’t actually crying, but he was. That instantly made her roll her eyes and pull him into a hug.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” Y/n said as she softly rubbed Logan’s back. Logan couldn't stop apologizing and bringing up how horrible of a person he was for not seeing the signs of her actual struggle, but she shut him down quick.

“Hey, I’m fine with you being rough — Just make sure it’s not after I eat ten deviled eggs,” y/n joked, making Logan let out a slight laugh, but he still didn’t feel too great.

“Let’s just go back to the hotel — He’ll be here tomorrow,”

[bunbundubdub]

Embrace The Cold - Zayne

Off we go with the second installment of "What could the first time cuddling 'Enter LI name' be like!" This time it is the snowman himself, Dr. Zayne! Honestly this story kinda ran away from me for a bit and got both far more detailed and far far longer than I had planned, so let me know if this is something you like or if you'd prefer it to be kept a lil shorter for the next few! Have fun reading TW: fluff, cuddling ---------------------------------------

Over the years Zayne had gotten used to being called cold or uncaring. After a while he had even gotten used to the cold puns because of his demeanor and Evol. By now he didn't even mind those comments anymore. Strangers or even colleagues could call him a man with the emotional warmth of a block of ice all they wanted because he knew that the only person who mattered knew him better.

While he had never gotten any complaints about his bedside manner, at least not since he became head of cardiac surgery, his friends were far and few inbetween when it came to his private life. He cared for his patients with passion and professionalism, offering comfort to the best of his ability but he was also not shy about admonishing them if they disregarded his orders for a speedy recovery.

Yet when he thought back at the few awkward times his well meaning colleagues tried to set him up with friends, he couldn't help but cringe. They had all been lovely people, but Zayne had quickly learned that blind dates were not something he was very proficient in. The small talk about the weather and the place they had met at soon faded into silence and the date usually turned very uncomfortable for both parties involved as well as the waiter.

Zayne sometimes wondered what the waiter thought about him, considering that he met at this restaurant with every date he had been set up with, always being tended to by him. Did he think of him as a socially inept idiot that couldn't charm his way into a second date or just as a playboy who moved on to the next person after he had gotten what he wanted?

But then his mind would shift to you. You were the wrench thrown into the well oiled machine that was his life. After all these attempts at kickstarting his love life, Yvonne had asked him for one more attempt and he had only reluctantly agreed. Unlike the others he had been made to meet with, he immediately felt far more comfortable the second you entered the restaurant, a little late and flustered because of it.

Once you got all the apologies out of your system for being late, none of it actually being your fault, the two of you eased into a very comfortable conversation. There had been no awkward silence between you at any point, you seemed genuinely interested in the things he had to say, asking questions and even prompting him to remind you of your food you were neglecting for the sake of not missing a word. He of course returned your interest, questioning you on your life, your hobbies, whatever came to mind.

Before either of you realized, two hours had passed, you had eaten your dinner and dessert and even your drinks had been emptied for a while.

One date turned into two, then three and before you knew it you were a couple without ever really saying it out loud. In the following days and weeks your relationship developed quickly and also not at all. Due to his busy work life clashing with yours, meetings in person often were few and far inbetween, but you managed to make it up with voice and video calls during the times you had time but were apart.

But now something incredible, almost unbelievable happened. Not only did you manage to secure two weeks of vacation, but Zayne did as well. You had never seen him so giddy with excitement as you picked up his video call in the evening, excitedly telling you about his accomplishment. Plans were quickly made how you two wanted to spend your free time, both together and apart, and before you knew it, the days until your vacation had passed and your doorbell rang.

Zayne was wearing his usual dark attire, his silver glasses perched on his nose and a warm smile on his lips. "Are you ready to leave?" With a kiss to your temple he stepped past you into your apartment, grabbing the suitcase in the hallway as you put on your shoes and jacket. "I can't put into words how excited I am, I haven't had a vacation in forever!" He breathed out a quiet chuckle and waited outside the door as you quickly scanned your apartment again, making sure that you had not left on any lights or appliances before following after him, locking the door behind you.

Zayne was a meticulous driver, never speeding and with his hands always at their correct place on the wheel. Except for today. He was still driving like a model citizen, but unlike usual, your entwined hands were resting on the center console, his thumb rubbing comforting circles on the back of your hand. You had confided in him before that you were a little nervous, this was not only your first vacation together, but also the first night you would spend at his home.

If he was anyone but him, your heart would most likely be beating out of your chest or you would be nauseous from nervousness but this was Zayne after all. Your Zayne. Your gentle snowman of a boyfriend who would spend hours focused on the most complicated surgeries, saving lives with the very hand that now held yours, only to ask you to accompany him to an arcade in the evening so you could help him win a plushie to give to a young patient of his.

You have sat in at a lecture he was giving, his professional behaviour and calm voice captivating the audience and another day you saw him walking to the pediatric ward in light blue scrubs covered head to toe with little snowmen so the children wouldn't be as scared.

The car came to a gentle stop at the end of a short traffic jam. Zayne squeezed your hand and his eyes found yours as you turned your head. "What's going on in that head of yours? I can hear you overthinking from here." His smile was as gentle as usual, with an inquisitive look in his eyes.

"I don't know, to be honest. I know I have no reason to, but I think I'm a little nervous." The corner of his mouth twitched upwards a little and he turned his eyes back towards the road, now that the traffic jam had let up a little.

The busy streets of Linkons inner city gave way to a calmer neighborhood and after passing by the security guard of the gated community where Zayne lived, he soon turned into his driveway, only letting go of your hand to park the car and release his seatbelt.

His warm hands then ran along your arm to your hand, resting a moment against your pulse. "I won't dismiss your feelings by telling you there's no reason to be nervous, but you know me. You have gotten to know me better in the short time we have known each other than some people have who have known me for years. There is nothing I expect of you during our vacation except that you enjoy our time together. We get so little of it as it is."

He lifted your entwined hands and gave you a small kiss on your knuckles before letting go and exiting the car. You didn't even get the chance to open the door yourself, by the time you had gathered your bag at your feet, it was already open, with Zayne waiting patiently for you.

"Could you get the door? I had your fingerprint added to the automatic locking system." Zayne asked from behind you, hands full with your suitcase and his coat. As promised, the door gave a quiet click as you pressed your thumb on the scanner and the clean, almost clinical scent of his home greeted you.

It was almost funny how even his home held so many traces of his work, from the academic books and texts taking up an entire bookcase on their own, to his academic certificates lining the wall. When he had invited you over for the first time it even smelled like a hospital. There was the ever persistent scent of antiseptic, antibacterial soap and what you later learned was a hand lotion specifically formulated for medical personell that had to wash and desinfect their hands very frequently.

He had explained that as a surgeon, fragrances of any kind were not permitted and considering how much time he usually spent in the hospital, those habits had simply carried over into his private life. He didn't mind perfumes, colognes or any kinds of room sprays, he just didn't see a need to purchase them if they would only go to waste anyway. But ever since you had commented on it, not in a mean way in the slightest, he had started to experiment.

The next time you visited there was a faint scent of vanilla in the air, not overpowering but still clashing with the "natural" scent of his home. After that it was the scent of pine trees and eucalyptus which made everything smell like a very strange medicinal spa treatment. That one was discarded as well.

In the end, with your help, he had settled for a very unoffending citrus scent. It wasn't too harsh and also didn't clash. Instead of smelling cold and uninviting, his home now just simply smelled clean. He himself was an entirely different story. At his insistence, you two had once gone to try out some perfumes and colognes, with nothing to show for it but a headache and a desperate need for a shower and fresh clothes.

The two of you dropped down on his sofa, both tired from a long day of work and ready for a day of relaxing tomorrow and the two weeks of vacation that would follow. "I had planned to cook something nice together, but I did not anticipate how exhausting work would be today. I hope you are fine with takeout as well?" You could only nod and let your head drop back to rest on the backrest.

You couldn't imagine how extreme an exhausting workday would be for a surgeon, but yours had not been any better. Running from meeting to meeting, talking to customers and colleagues, having to forego your lunch break and just having to sneak some bites as you were once again rushed to yet the next thing you had to worry about. The rest of the week had not been any better, leaving you with no time to actually pack and prepare your apartment for your abscense until you got home in the afternoon today.

There were some minutes of silence as the two of you just lounged on the sofa, with Zayne copying your position with his long legs stretched out as far as they would go and his head tilted back. It wasn't particularily comfortable, but neither of you had the energy to move a muscle now that you had sat down.

His fingers were tapping gently along the cushions until they found yours, immediately wrapping around them. Soon the silence was starting to hurt your ears and you moved with a groan, stretching your arms and legs, allowing your joints to pop as you did. You quickly decided on tonights dinner and after ordering you both took turns in the bathroom to wash up and get changed out of your work clothes into something more comfortable.

During your dinner you shared some stories of your day, with Zayne talking more about the antics of his coworkers to avoid sharing information he was not permitted to and you venting about your lack of a lunch break and how many times you had to repeat yourself with those customers who did not seem to grasp even the simplest concepts.

Stuffed with dinner and dessert to full capacity, you quickly washed the dishes and debated what you would want to do with the rest of the day. It was too late and you both were too tired to go out again but it was still too early to go to bed yet. Tomorrow was already a day planned with mostly laying around and maybe going shopping for some last minute necessities before your vacation, so going to bed early tonight would only make you wake up far too early.

After your first time visiting, you had commented on Zaynes rocking chair, wide enough for one person to more than comfortably sit on, but still too narrow to fit you both. It had merely been a cheeky comment, with no intention behind it, yet when you had entered his apartment this time, the rocking chair had been banned to the bedroom, making for a comfortable reading space right by the windows and in it's place in the living room now stood something you could only call a rocking sofa.

It was a two seater, plush and comfortable with dark grey fabric, with more than enough space to even lay down and stretch your legs. There was also a small sideboard in front of it with a TV and the console you had played on together before.

"Please don't tell me you bought that just because of the comment I made." You said with a deadpan voice, scratching your temple with a sigh. Zayne placed a smooch on just that spot and turned to lead you over to the sofa. "Very well, then I won't tell you. I did not want to break it in on my own and now seems like a perfect opportunity. What do you say?" With a snort you ushered him along with a small smack to his butt, laughing at the way he nearly jumped out of his skin and turned to give you a playful glare.

He held the chair still so you could get on without an issue and watched with a smile as you stretched yourself out as much as you could. "Comfortable?" He asked, pushing and pulling on the back rest to make you rock back and forth ever so gently. "It is…but I bet it would be even more comfortable with company." You didn't have to ask him twice, tapping the space next to you with your fingers, you couldn't help but giggle at the violent rocking that shook you about as he sat down.

Sitting there together, with Zayne resting one of his legs on the ground to keep up the gentle rocking, you quickly felt drowsiness taking over you. "I never understood why parents like rocking chairs so much to put their kids to sleep." Your sentence ended with a big yawn, the kind that made your eyes tear up. Zayne did not comment and as you turned to your side to look at him, you saw that his eyes were closed.

His breathing was slow and calm but by the way he was still rocking the chair, you were certain that he had not already fallen asleep. His breath hitched a little as you raised your hand to trace some of the scars on the arm he had resting on his stomach. "Are you still nervous?" The room had gotten so quiet that his voice made you flinch a little.

He turned his head towards you when you didn't answer right away. Your fingers that had been running over his arms crept up to his jaw, running along the sharp bone, tracing his cheekbones to his temple, before brushing his dark hair away from his hazel eyes. "You told me I don't have to be. And you're right…I do know you, my precious snowman who will protect me just like I will protect you. I know that as long as I'm with you I will be safe."

For a split second you thought you saw a flash of pain run across his face, but with a blink of you eyes, it was gone. He turned over to face you fully. His arms slowly reached out towards you, one pushing into the plush cushions to reach under your body, the other circling around your waist and with a quick pull, there was hardly any space between the two of you anymore.

You could feel his breath on your face and in the way his chest pressed against yours, the hand of the arm beneath you settling on your lower back while the other carressed your upper back. For a moment you felt like your heart would start racing again due to the sudden proximity but as you stared at his beautiful features, those intelligent eyes that sparkled in greens, browns and even some specks of yellow, the long lashes that framed them and his plush lips that had made you weak with both words and kisses before, you noticed that it was just as calm as your breath.

Laying in Zaynes embrace, it felt like nothing could touch you, no one would dare to even think of harming you. Now even the thought of worrying about being with him seemed ridiculous. Had he ever even given you a reason to worry? Even your first meeting had just felt right. There was hardly any awkwardness, no uncomfortable silences. Maybe you had been moving rather quickly in the eyes of others, but neither of you regretted anything.

You did not regret telling each other your life stories right away, skipping the pleasantries and fun fact about each other for a later date. You did not regret wanting to give him a kiss on the cheek after he had dropped you off and accompanied you to your front door to make sure you made it home safe and he did not regret accidentally turning his head at just the last second so your kiss ended on his lips instead.

As you shared this intimate moment, a shiver ran across your body. Due to his Evol, Zaynes body tended to overcompensate the cold, making his body run hotter than most people. In turn, he prefered his living space to be on the cooler side. Luckily he was prepared and pulled the blanket, that he had slung over the backrest, over the both of you. As he adjusted on the sofa, he pulled you even closer, tangling your legs together to erase even the last bit of distance between you two.

Sharing your warmth and with the quiet affection visible between you both, you snuggled your face into his chest, the faint scent of something that was purely Zayne tickling your nose. You were safe, you were loved and with those thoughts in mind, you closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep.

[lesbianchemicalplant]

generally extremely wary of any kind of imperative to fuck/date/marry/family-make endogamously no matter how “Progressively” phrased. whatever special pleading, what it overwhelmingly means is social policing, coercion, and physical violence toward people who step out, especially women and gender underclasses and subalterns in general (e.g. the gays, trans women impelled to marry and have kids), to keep them within the fold of their (gendered) duty to the family/community/nation, or punish them as an example to keep everyone else in line

the kinds of appeals made can take incredibly tortured forms. in my own context for example, I've seen complaints and derision toward jewish men (cishet men!) who intermarry, on the nominal basis of “it's so sad seeing jewish men marry out because they don't respect jewish women, they see jewish women as lower-value. why don't we love our women? :(”

and of course anyone familiar knows the actual context there is racist—primarily Zionist, though I have seen anti-zionist jews do this too, in service of keeping insular communities insular and tightly-regulated—“Silent Holocaust” panic over being Replaced or Diluted through intermarriage

but the same logic is recognizable and tbh common by chauvinists from widely disparate contexts. “what, don't you care about our oppression, don't you want us to value our own? what about our self-respect? why don't we love ourselves? I'm just really worried for those of us who intermarry, they're going to be mistreated, especially the women and/or children. we're just looking out for what's actually good for them, even if they won't do it themselves. and if we don't, it reflects poorly on us....”