#Maybe out of habit/nostalgia

[moonsandmobilityaids-inactive]

Okay but reader and Remus introduce James and Sirius to the concept of eating Nutella out the jar, which they think is insane until they try it, which leads to remus and reader having to hide said Nutella jar.

[interestingturnofthetables]

It’s still completely absurd that Ford just happened to have a backup pair of glasses on his person when he fell through the portal.

I know it was obviously only included in the Journal to get around the whole dramatic glasses foreshadowing in the series and the portal scene in ATOTS, and for that reason alone it’s actually pretty funny and one of my favourite ‘random Ford character details’

But as a glasses wearer myself, who the fuck carry’s a spare pair of IDENTICAL glasses on their person at all times!??!? Is this something he’s always done? Since he was a kid maybe*? Possible something he picked up in his 20’s he never dropped? But even then, why??? When you’re going out somewhere and there’s even a small possibility you could break/lose your glasses I guess it comes in handy, but how often could that realistically happen to warrant always carrying them on you? Even in your own house!

That brings me to the actual situation of he’s literally been in his own house barely leaving it (on his own) for probably months by the time of the portal incident! There’s no reason for him to carry a spare pair of glasses around his own house! Of course there’s the possibility that he started carrying a spare pair with him some time after the Bill situation; maybe he thought that if he were to wake up somewhere dangerous without his glasses, he’d have easy access to his extra pair. But if that’s the case, he’s definitely forgetting the fact that if Bill’s plan was to break his glasses to leave him stranded somewhere without being able to see clearly, he would also know about the spare pair and break those just as well! So technically speaking that would be a worse idea than to simply keep them somewhere specific in his house! Given that he had that spare pair on him during the portal incident, that entire line of thinking didn’t cross either bill or Ford’s mind (which is the most nonsensical plot hole in an attempt to patch up a prior plot hole I’ve ever seen)

Only solid explanation here is that Ford’s just always been overly cautious for a good portion of his life. And since he never thought to take his spare glasses out of his pockets, he either never got paranoid enough about Bill’s ability to fuck him over, or knew he wouldn’t stoop to that amongst the other horrors (which, raises a whole bunch of other questions outside the scope of this rant.)

Either way, I guess his paranoia paid off. If he hadn’t been carrying that extra pair that day he’d probably be dead. So good for him I guess! Maybe I should start carrying an extra pair of glasses on my person too…

[hplonesomeart]

Old record player spin my beloved <3

[hyewka]

𝙗𝙪𝙙𝙙𝙮 𝙨𝙮𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙢 | c.bg

synopsis: wanting to try a new sexual route with your boyfriend but not knowing how to approach the situation drives you to beomgyu—your best friend since the dawn of time, under the rule of what you call a buddy system.

warnings: sub!gyu, dumbification, basically infidelity but they don’t really fuck, butt plug

tags 🏷️ @b3omitus @beomiracles @bambammtori @jakeslvt @subby-men-forever @iijustread @strwbrryjaem @rikiwaify-blog @yyeonzi @skz-smut-reader @kyuuuie @fairfootedflekk @badwicht @handsomejin25 @itaehynz @soobabby

No matter what angle you look at it, it’s weird. You wouldn’t even think of asking for a favor so indecent if it wasn’t—well if it wasn’t him. And maybe that’s the blaring problem.

“What’ya thinking ‘bout?” Beomgyu muffles, mouth stuffed. You quirk your lip, kicking him under the table. "Don't talk with food in your mouth idiot."

He immediately shuts his mouth, but doesn't miss the chance to retaliate and return the kick, only he aims poorly and hits the table leg instead.

You snort, suddenly hit with a wave of nostalgia. It takes you right back to when your biggest problem was hiding a bad report card from your then-overbearing parents and trying to find knock-off drug store products to cover your gross pimples.

A simpler time when all you saw was your best friend across from you, wedged into the booth at Shake N Shack, stuffing his mouth with fries, sauce on the edge of his lips as he rants about some latest absurd conspiracy theory he had stumbled upon online.

“So?” he pulls you out of your reverie, looking up at you once he’s finished chewing. His eyes dart nervously between you and his plate as he swallows the last bite when you keep silent. “Why’re you really here? You haven’t been around much lately.”

You scoff, crossing your arms defensively. "I can't just visit you for old times' sake?"

He exaggeratedly winces. "Damn, already demoted to a nostalgia trip?”

You sigh, feeling a pang of guilt despite the lightheartedness in his tone.

You know Beomgyu— like the back of your hand, like the way your favorite song plays in your mind, you know how he hurts and how he likes to cover it up. Ever since you started dating Youngjae, you’ve completely abandoned him, and so his words hit harder than they should.

“You know what I mean,” you mumble weakly.

“Do I?” he replies, tilting his head. “Last I checked, people don’t usually show up at someone’s door at ten-thirty PM during a thunderstorm just to reminisce for “old times sake”. Are you here to drop some kind of plot twist on me? Did you kill someone? Is this an alibi visit?”

You let out a frustrated groan—leave it to Beomgyu to be as annoying as humanely possible as you try to get him to forgive you for your sins. "No, I didn't kill anyone. I just…I’ve been caught up with y'know like...everything and-”

You pause, glancing at your feet as you try to find the right words, the ones that make this moment make sense. You’d gone over this moment in your head a thousand times, but now, in front of him, it all seems so much harder to say.

“And?” he prompts.

“And in the middle of all the stupid exams and projects, I had this epiphany. Like, holy crap, when was the last time I actually saw my best friend? The one person who gets all my dumb jokes, who knows all my weird habits, and somehow still puts up with me.”

His face visibily softens and he nods slowly, picking at the crumbs on his plate. "Epiphany took a long ass time.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. Without thinking, you stand up from your seat and walk over to him. He looks up just in time for you to wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug. It only takes him a moment before he completely melts into the embrace, his arms circling your waist. “I missed you, you dork,” you whisper into his hair.

He leans into you, seemingly satisfied. “That’s all I get?” he mumbles, his voice muffled against your shoulder, but there’s no mistaking the smile in his words. “A quick hug after you’ve been ignoring your best friend for, like, forever?”

“You’ll get a little present later, besides you love me too much to stay mad.”

He nestles his head against you, his grip around your waist tightening just a bit. “Yeah, I really do.” he murmurs.

The Buddy System.

You don’t know if that rollercoaster is any good? The Buddy System. Beomgyu can go on it and tell you if he thinks it’s possible for you to ride without throwing up right after. Beomgyu’s feeling squeamish over that plate of food? The Buddy System— you’ll try it out for him and accurately determine whether it’s gyu-gestable or …not. Years of practice has had you know exactly what his picky habits can allow him to consume.

Those are the more normal instances you’ve used it, there were other peculiar times like when Beomgyu asked you to test out the temperature of his bathwater—with your elbow, like you were checking a baby’s bath. He stood there, fully clothed, watching you as you leaned over the tub, dipping your elbow into the water with the seriousness of a professional thermometer. “Too hot,” you’d say, adjusting the faucet until he gave a nod of approval.

Actually, now that you’re really going over every instance you’ve used it, you think all of the weird ones were Beomgyu’s doing.

Like the time when it was the summer of senior year, the last summer before you went off to college, Beomgyu had recurring nightmares and was convinced that if you fell asleep holding his hand, you’d somehow end up in his dream and could “fix it” from the inside. You tried to explain that dreams didn’t work that way, but he wouldn’t budge. So, there you were, two grown teenagers, lying in a dark room, hands clasped like some kind of paranormal experiment. It didn’t work, of course, but Beomgyu insisted he slept better knowing you were “on the job.”

So therefore…asking this of him would just…even it out, right? Right?

Beomgyu sits up abruptly, causing the carefully arranged pillows to collapse around him, and a few stuffed animals to topple over onto his lap. His eyes are wide, and his voice cracks as he practically yelps, "What?"

Holy shit, who are you kidding.

“This was the little present?”

You shift uncomfortably in the small, now even more cramped space, suddenly wishing you could burrow into the pile of blankets and disappear. “It’s weird, I know, like really weird and it’s okay if you don’t want to. I just thought—”

You take a deep breath. “I just—I want to try it with him and—I don’t know, maybe it won’t feel good and-"

“You thought I’d be the one to—” he waves the box around, his voice higher than usual, “—to test this out for you?”

“I mean, buddy system, right?” you offer weakly, your confidence crumbling completely. “We’ve done other things for each other… not like this, but…” your voice trails off as you fidget with the edge of the blanket beneath you.

Beomgyu just blinks at you. And in the long, awkward silence that follows you realize how absurd your request sounds. Hey, can you try out this butt plug for me because my faith in this relationship with my boyfriend is so fragile I’m afraid I might ruin it completely by doing the normal thing of suggesting and exploring different ways of pleasuring each other? Don’t forget that it’s a butt plug! I’m asking you to insert something up in your ass. Up your ass.

The fairy lights cast soft shadows on his face—he’s staring at you, but you’re too caught up in your embarrassment to notice the way his gaze lingers just a little too long, or how eventually, his expression softens.

Before he can stop himself, he blurts out, “Does he know you’re here?”

You freeze, caught off guard. “Who?”

“Your boyfriend,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “Does he know you’re here? With me?”

“Uh, no… he doesn’t,” you admit, shifting uncomfortably again. “I mean, it’s late, and I just wanted to see you. It’s not a big deal, right?”

Beomgyu swallows hard, his gaze dropping to the stuffed bear in his lap, which seems to be staring back at him with wide, unblinking eyes. “Yeah… right. No big deal.”

The silence stretches on, thick and awkward, until finally, he lets out a long, exaggerated sigh. “Okay,” he resigns. “This is, hands down, the weirdest thing you’ve ever asked me to do, but… yeah, okay. I’ll do it.”

You blink again, not expecting him to actually agree. “Wait, seriously?” A huge smile breaks across your face as you lean forward, your excitement palpable. “I can’t believe you’re actually saying yes! Oh my god, Gyu, thank you! I thought for sure you were going to think I was crazy and—”

But then, almost as quickly as your excitement flared up, it dims slightly, and you glance at him with a more serious expression. The guilt’s creeping up. “You know you don’t have to do this, right? It’s been a while since we’ve hung out and I mean, I don’t want you to feel like I’m forcing you or anything—”

"Are you holding a gun to my head?”

“No, but-"

“Then I’m fine,” he says, though his voice softens as he adds, “Seriously, it’s okay. I’ll do it. Who cares.”

You pout looking at your best friend because for the millionth time in your life, you feel that familiar warmth in your chest at the reassurance that no matter what, Beomgyu’s always there to back you up.

“You’re the best, Gyu. You don’t even know it yet, but you’ll probably be responsible for our wedding,” you say, sighing dreamily, “I’ll make sure to shout you out.”

Suddenly, his expression changes. He frowns deeply, and before you can process it, he grabs the nearest plushie—a soft, squishy bear—and hurls it at you with a grumble. “Yeah, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Your mouth falls open at the bear hitting you square in the chest. The audacity! But before you can even think about launching a counterattack, Beomgyu is already on the move.

In one swift motion, he snatches up the pink box, waving it above his head like a white flag of retreat, quickly scrambling out of the fort, the pillows and blankets collapsing behind him in his rush to escape.

You take back everything nice you’ve thought of him thirty seconds ago.

Beomgyu’s cheeks are a bit pink when he comes back twenty minutes later, and you notice it when you look up from your phone, where you’ve been meticulously studying the app’s settings. He looks uncharacteristically bashful, avoiding your gaze as he settles back in with you— the fort looking almost as good as it did before Beomgyu nuked it and ran away.

“Did you put it in?” you ask, trying to gauge his reaction.

He glances at you briefly before quickly looking away, the blush on his cheeks deepening. "Yup. Lubed it up pretty well."

You raise an eyebrow, skeptical. "Did you really, or are you fucking with me?"

Beomgyu's response is immediate, and a little too defensive. "Do you want me to show you my asshole or something? I have it in!"

"God, okay!" you say in exasperation, throwing your hands up in mock surrender.

Your mood takes a complete flip as you grin wickedly, wiggling your phone, the app open and ready. "So... ready for the fun part?"

His eyes widen slightly, and you catch the way his breath hitches as he realizes what you mean. His cheeks flush even more as he swallows hard. "Wait, you're not actually gonna…”

There isn’t any incentive for him to lie but you still don’t fully believe him. You’ve heard that first times have guys struggling a little, he’d be a lot more fidgety than he is now. You narrow your eyes as you glance from your phone to his face, experimentally turning up the setting to its highest volume, just to see if he's really telling the truth.

The reaction is immediate. Beomgyu's eyes widen in shock, and blood rushes to his cheeks, turning him a deep shade of red. His whole body tenses as he grips the blanket beneath him, his breath hitching.

"Hey! Turn it down! It—it-fuck!" he stammers, his voice strained and breathy as he squirms in place.

You quickly dial back the intensity, watching as he takes a few deep breaths, trying to recover. You didn't mean to push him that far, but now there's no doubt in your mind that he wasn't lying. He really did go through with it.

"I didn't think it'd be that intense," you say, genuinely concerned. "Are you okay?"

He hangs his head low, nodding.

You can't help but giggle at his reaction, though you feel a little guilty for pushing him so hard. "Sorry, I just had to make sure."

He gives you a look that's somewhere between a pout and a glare, still clearly embarrassed. "Well, now you know. It's definitely in, and it's definitely working."

You ruffle his head. "Alright, I won't push it any further. Just let me know when it's too much, okay?"

Beomgyu groans, his voice dropping a little, betraying a note of something more than just embarrassment. "Why do I let you talk me into these things?" he mumbles, mostly to himself.

You ignore him, grinning as you observe him, slowly turning up the vibrations to a slow, steady hum. “Notes? How does it feel?”

Beomgyu stiffens, his eyes widening as the first wave of vibrations hits him. "Oh... my god," he squeaks, his voice shaky and a bit breathless. "This is... this is so weird."

You narrow your eyes. “Bad weird or good weird?”

He looks at you, his bottom lip jutted out into a pout, as if he’s not quite sure how to articulate what he’s feeling. “It’s just… weird, okay? Full. Like, not bad but… not normal either. It’s… it’s like—ugh, why are you making me explain this?”

You fold your arms, deciding to push him a little more to get the information that you actually want. “Is it, like, ‘I can get used to this’ weird, or ‘please stop this right now’ weird?”

Beomgyu huffs, clearly flustered. “I don’t know! It’s… kind of both? Like… it’s weird, but maybe kind of good? I don’t know!” He’s squirming now, obviously uncomfortable but not entirely hating it either.

“So…you’re saying you’re into it?” you tease, leaning in closer with a mischievous grin, wiggling your brows playfully.

The words slip out before you can fully think them through, the playful energy between you both making it easy to forget the boundaries that normally exist. Especially considering that you have a boyfriend of seven months waiting at home.

You’re too far gone to care.

His eyes widen even more, his blush deepening as he quickly shakes his head, shuffling away from you a bit. “N-no! I mean… not like that, I just—” His voice trails off, and he swallows hard, clearly struggling to find the right words.

You bite your lip, gradually increasing the intensity, curious. His expression tightens, and a soft, involuntary moan escapes his lips before he can stop it.

"Okay, okay, that's... that's enough!" he says, his voice a mix of panic and something more, his breathing coming out in quick, uneven gasps as he clearly tries to hold himself together.

Interesting.

A slow smirk spreads across your face, “Just a little more,” you coax. “You’re doing great.”

“Fuck, stop teasing me!” he whines, but his voice is breathier now, and there's a definite edge of something more in the way he looks at you, his pupils slightly dilated.

You watch him, the way he tries to keep his mouth in a thin line, a façade that crumbles the moment you notice the way his left leg shakes— you’re intrigued. You've never seen him like this—so vulnerable, so out of control—and it's both unsettling and fascinating. If there’s a possibility this is exactly how your boyfriend would act with something up his ass, you’d spend hundreds on a collection.

You clear your throat, realizing its been silent for too long. “So?”

He’s fast to catch on. “I—I don’t hate it. I think it’s hitting my prost—holy shit, d-did you just turn it up again?”

You hesitate, your gaze shifting away from his. “No…” you mumble, the lie unconvincing even to your own ears. The accusatory stare he gives you is impossible to ignore, burning through your feigned innocence.

Eventually, you give in, sighing in defeat. “Alright, only to a different rhythm. Is it worse? Should I—”

You pause abruptly when you see his reaction. Beomgyu’s eyes tightly screw shut, his jaw clenching and for a moment, you worry that you’ve pushed too far, that this time you’ve actually overstepped. But then he lets out a breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly.

“If it was worse, you would be pure evil but uh—no, no, it’s okay. It’s… better.”

You can’t let the genuine relief washing over you run its full course because you feel a spark of something more exciting running down your spine. You gulp— the hot, stuffiness of the fort becomes increasingly unbearable by the minute. “Better?”

He nods, though his movements are slow, deliberate, like he's testing the waters before fully committing to his answer. "Yeah... better," he repeats, his voice more certain this time. His eyes flutter open, and a cute, determined face replaces the more bashful Beomgyu you were getting pretty comfortable playing with.

For the second time tonight, an awkward silence overtakes you both and he leans back against the pillows, fiddling nervously with the drawstrings of his hoodie, his fingers picking at the fabric as if trying to find some distraction.

The silence stretches on until suddenly, Beomgyu moves. Without warning, he starts to pull at the hem of his hoodie, yanking it up and over his head in one swift motion.

“Whoa, whoa, what’re you doing?” you blurt out as you watch him toss his hoodie to the side, leaving him in just a thin undershirt. You’re completely caught off guard, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him, the sight of his flushed skin and tousled hair making your heart, for the first time, race.

For …Beomgyu.

He looks back at you, sheepish. “It’s hot,” he says simply.

You blink, still processing. “Yeah, but…” you trail off, realizing you don’t really have an argument. The air’s pretty darn thick and stifling.

“Okay, fair enough,” you say finally, trying to play it off with a casual shrug. “I mean, it is pretty warm in here.”

“…Right.”

You’re acting weird. Even Beomgyu’s noticing. You’re losing the upper hand.

“Uh, th-there’s another setting,” you stammer, quickly looking down at your phone in your hand, avoiding his gaze. “Wanna try it out? To see which one feels better.”

He hums in approval, his response casual, almost nonchalant, like he's confident nothing can catch him off guard.

But that confidence doesn’t last long.

The second you make the switch, his body jolts, a gasp slipping out before he can stop it. “How…how is it?” you ask anyway.

Beomgyu’s response is more of a whimper than anything else, his lips parting as he struggles to form coherent words. “It’s…oh god…it’s—" His voice catches in his throat, and it happens again. Loud and unrestrained. This time, it’s unmistakable.

Beomgyu's eyes widen in horror as the sound leaves his lips, his hand flying up to clap over his mouth in a desperate attempt to stifle any more noises. His cheeks flush a deep, burning red, and you can see the sheer embarrassment etched into his expression as he tries to hide his face, mortified by his own reaction.

You didn’t plan this. Not at all. But you cannot for the life of you even get yourself to feel an ounce of guilt for the way your underwear uncomfortably sticks to your heat.

Your gaze drops lower, and there it is-the clear strain in his pants, “Uh…Gyu…?” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper as your eyes flicker back up to his face.

Your mind is spinning, caught between disbelief and the sudden rush of arousal that floods right to your lower abdomen.

Beomgyu doesn't respond immediately. He's too busy fighting his own body, his breaths coming in shallow, rapid gasps as he tries to regain some semblance of control. His hand remains firmly over his mouth, his eyes squeezed shut as if he's trying to will himself to disappear, to erase the moment that just happened.

It's overly dramatic, of course-classic Beomgyu, always a tinge extra when he's overwhelmed. But instead of finding it annoying like you might have at any other time, it strikes you as incredibly…endearing.

The way his reactions are so genuine, so unguarded, makes him seem almost innocent in a way that tugs at your heart. He looks like a confused, flustered puppy than anything else.

The way he's covering his mouth, is almost comical in its futility-especially when another small, muffled whimper slips past his fingers. “Beomgyu,” you call out, your voice soft but insistent. “I need you to look at me.”

"I-I can't—" he stammers, his voice barely above a whisper as he tries to form coherent thoughts. "This is... it's t-too much..."

You tilt your head, “Do you want me to turn it off?”

“No! Just... I don't know..." he breathes out, his voice strained, as if he's not entirely sure what he's asking for. “Please.”

Something stirs within you, and before you know it, you’re moving closer to him, reaching out your hand to rest on his arm—you think it’d help comfort him. But he only takes that opportunity to bury his head in your neck a few seconds later.

Your heart pounds in your chest but you try to not give it any more attention. You’re supposed to be here for your friend.

“You’re doing so well, Beom,” you whisper, your voice steady and reassuring as you gently rub his arm. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. It’s just us here—you can let go. It’s just me.”

A soft, almost cute whimper escapes him as he nods against you, his breath warm against your skin.

Beomgyu's eyes flutter shut, and you can tell your words are having an effect on him, his resolve crumbling with each passing second, the twitch in his pants making it clear he’s barely holding on. “It’s okay,” you reassure.

Maybe it’s not. But you technically weren’t doing anything physical—it’s not wrong on your behalf, right? But as you rub your thighs subtly, trying to relieve something, that guilt is just as incessant.

You watch the way Beomgyu’s hand moves—hesitantly at first, as if he's not sure what he's doing or if he should even be doing it. But then he turns his head up to look at you, and you’re once again, caught off guard. His eyes look like they’re searching for something, focus shifting from one place to another. And you’re left feeling like you’re under a microscope, until it seems like he found what he’s looking for because his fingers finally brush against the waistband of his pants.

“Are you—are you sure this is okay?” he asks softly. And you nod. Almost too fast.

Maybe you should close your eyes. If not for the respect of the relationship that you’ve completely forgotten of once you had Beomgyu in your arms, at least for your best friend’s pride.

Actually, you don’t think he minds. If the strangled groan that comes out his pretty lips were anything to go by. He fumbles for his hard, aching cock, flinging it out and stroking it furiously almost the second he gets his hands on it and your eyes only manage to widen at the sight.

For lack of better words, you gawk.

“It’s not disappointing or anything, huh?” he tries to joke, but his breaths too strung out, too gone for even that.

Your mouth dries. Far from it.

This is the one time your boyfriend comes to mind in a while, and its not favorable. Beomgyu’s not bigger—he’s not small either, but that’s not your focus—rather the pearly bead that bubbles atop of the tiny slit, the head a deep pink, the way its veins pulses as his pace falters at your silence. That small bead of fluid oozing down his shaft, tracing the lines of the delicate veins. The curves, every little detail. He’s perfect. More perfect than you’ve ever seen.

It seems you took way too long for Beomgyu’s liking and self confidence so he looks elsewhere, “Is…it?”

You blink, almost forgetting your predicament, lost in your admiration of him. "No, no, of course not. It's—it's pretty," you reply, your words tumbling out in a rush as you try to reassure him.

But instead of calming him, your words have the opposite effect. His shoulders shake, and suddenly, he's burying himself back into your shoulder, his hand completely abandoning his cock. "H-hahh-" he pants, his breath hitching as he begins to hiccup, overwhelmed by his emotions.

“Are you—are you crying?”

“You just called my dick pretty,” he seems to sob a bit more at that, soaking your shirt, feeling the dampness spreading across your chest. “You hate it. It looks bad.”

You're at a loss for words, completely thrown by his reaction. You struggle to pry him off you, your hands gently but firmly gripping his shoulders as you try to pull back just enough to look him in the face. "What?! No!" you exclaim, your voice rising with urgency. "Pretty means pretty. Fuck, don't cry, it's perfect, Beomgyu. It looks perfect, I swear."

His hiccups slow as your words sink in, and you can see the tension in his shoulders begin to ease. He sniffles softly, wiping at his tears with the back of his hand, his breathing gradually becoming steadier. As the emotional intensity lessens gradually, you with no control of your own, redirect your attention to his poor cock. It’s rock hard. He looks like he needs some soothing so you think to do the sensible thing. The…right thing?

Beomgyu lets out a small, shaky laugh, trying to lighten the mood despite everything that's just happened. "Man... I think this plug’s really messed with my vulnerability or something," he jokes weakly, his voice still wavering as he tries to regain his composure. “Had me crying pretty fas—"

His rant pauses at a hilt. He meets your gaze as you fully wrap your hand around his shaft after he just witnessed you quickly spit on your palm.

He doesn’t question it. At all. In fact, the moment your hand’s on him, there’s no hesitation in the way he spreads his legs wider, his pants responsively moving down to pool around his ankles.

A soft, whiny sound escapes him, and he leans into your touch, his eyes drooping, face contorting cutely. “O-oh…I���I..”

“Shhh, I got you pretty,” you whisper. His cock’s soft to the touch, and wet. When you glide your hand up and down, even slowly, it makes an unpleasantly wet, dirty sound.

He’s very reactive to the endearing nickname that feels almost too natural slipping out of your lips of all people. “P-pretty..” he repeats, sighing, almost dazedly. A complete goner.

You squeeze him and he lets out another needy, low moan and wraps his arms around your waist. Your heart pounds at how clingy he is, it feels like it’s about to burst. "Ahhh...f-fuck…” He moans against your neck, a highly pitched sound only a woman could make, feeling a trail of saliva traveling down from the corner of his mouth.

You almost cum untouched at the sight of him, at the pretty, almost perfectly described as heavenly sinful sounds he’s making. A sheen of sweat has formed on his forehead, his hair damp at the edges, and it somehow makes him look better.

His body tenses beneath your touch, you can feel the warmth of his skin, the sweat slicking his brow, and the way his breath catches in his throat. Then, suddenly, he lets out a choked cry, his voice breaking as he bucks his hips just slightly. The movement is involuntary, desperate, as if his body is moving on its own, seeking out the final bit of friction it needs.

And then it happens.

Beomgyu gasps sharply, his body going rigid as he reaches his peak. He shudders violently, his chest heaving as he shoots strings of his load, the warm, sticky fluid spilling out. You react quickly, instinctively guiding the release towards him, watching as it lands all over his tummy and a bit on his chest.

You're struck by how quickly it happened—how you'd only had him in your hand for a few seconds before he came. His chest heaves, his breathing ragged and uneven as he slowly comes down from the high.

For a moment, there's nothing but the sound of his breathing, the soft rise and fall of his chest as he tries to steady himself.

Finally, he looks down at the mess on his stomach and chest, a soft, almost sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

And for whatever reason, that has an effect on you. He looks so endearing in this moment—his lips slightly parted, his lashes brushing against his flushed skin, his hair perfectly tousled and falling over his eyes—

You're completely lost in the sight of him, practically mesmerized by how perfect he looks and your mind starts to drift until suddenly his voice breaks through your thoughts.

"Did you hear me?" he asks. "Doofus, turn it off. It's starting to make my asshole sore."

Your romantic daze shatters like glass.

Blinking rapidly, your face transforms into a shocked scowl, the absurdity of the situation hitting you all at once. "Wait, what?" you stammer.

Beomgyu raises an eyebrow at you, clearly expecting a response. But as the moment stretches on, your brain lags behind as you try to process what he just said.

Then it clicks.

"Oh, right!" you gasp, fumbling with your phone as you quickly find the app and turn off the plug, mortification creeping up your spine. What an absolute bust.

a/n: well well well. in the first draft he was made to eat his own cum but i felt maybe this fic wasnt the one for that😊😊 Unfortunately for some, fortunate for others🤔 anyway tell me how u enjoyed beomgyu getting his ass stimulated in a poorly made fort lol

[eyeritestuff]

Billy Kid x Reader Headcanons ☆

—X—

A/N: super into ZZZ right now (and billy.)

CW: nothing, maybe a few suggestive jokes but everything is generally SFW :3 i’m super sleepy and writing this at 1am so bare with me when it comes to spelling and grammar :’)

Reader: Gender Neutral [they/them]

—X—

Billy takes a lot of selfies, especially when on missions, and sends them to you. You don’t know what made him start doing this, but you save each and every one of them and you make sure to drop whatever you’re doing to ask him about it.

Billy is on the spectrum. Don’t ask me the logistics of it, yes he’s sophisticated AI, but hear me out! Though you like to indulge in some childhood nostalgia, you aren’t particularly fixated on watching just one media from your childhood. However, one of the medias you watched back in the day is called Starlight Knight. As soon as you told him you enjoyed that show, he would come to you to talk about it. It wasn’t all the time, of course, but whenever conservation went dry (in person or via DMs), he’d make it a thing to talk to you about it for hours. It didn’t annoy you, not in the slightest. It made you happy to see him so happy about the children’s show, and so you entertained it as much as you could.

When Billy texts, he uses old fashioned emoticons as punctuation. Think ‘ :3 , ^_^ , o_O ’ and then replace it everywhere a period, an exclamation point, or a question mark would be. So many emoticons…

Billy loves to play video games, especially at the arcade. He invites you, and usually you tag along. When you can’t, he sends a selfie of him making a sad face. He’d probably captions it something like ‘Missing my pookie.. 💔💔’

On that same note, Billy will pick up on vocabulary you use and steal it. So if you have a habit of saying ‘pookie’ ? That’s his now. He’s using it all the time.

Billy panics easy when it comes to you. not only when it comes to safety, but also when it comes to romantic scenarios. During times you hang out with Anby and Nicole, they spill all the details of how Billy went on a rampage to find the perfect flowers, or how Billy sat in a corner all morning whining about how he didn’t find the right color outfit for you. Things along those lines!

Sortve related, but Billy gets flustered easily. Especially when you make dirty jokes, most of which aren’t really directed at him. He doesn’t get the jokes at first, but when he does understand them, he reacts in such an over the top and dramatic manner. Flailing around, gasping really loud, whining, yknow the works! One time you made a joke about ��whimpering audios’ and he didn’t understand it. For a while too! Once he asked enough people (Anby explained it to him), he went silent and locked himself in his room for a considerable amount of time. He wasn’t sad or anything, just… shocked.

Billy isn’t human, so he doesn’t necessarily get injured in the traditional sense. One time he came back from a commission with his arm all battered up. You never seen him so down in spirits! You were able to help him, luckily, because it was only one part on his arm that was damaged that really messed up the rest of it. You kissed his hand, and immediately after inspecting your handiwork, he stuck his hand out again. “I dunno.. my arm still feels wonky. How about another kiss for good measure?”

When you’re bored, you love to dress up as Billy. Well, you’re not really dressing like him, you’re just wearing his jacket. You also like to wear the jacket with certain outfits you think it would look best with. Since your boyfriend is so tall and broad in the arms, you mostly wore it as a shoulder drape in an odd anime fashion statement. Regardless, Billy loved to see you wear it.

Earlier I mentioned Billy loves to take selfies, but I forgot to mention how most of them include you, and despite having all of those selfies of himself, half of his camera roll is you. He likes to sneak pictures of you sometimes! It’s one of his more odder behaviors, but he takes such cinematic pictures of you, even when you’re wearing the worst outfits. You didn’t know how he did it, but it’s one of the things that made the random picture taking somewhat okay.

Billy loves hugs. Don’t ask me how it works in terms of comfort. I would assume it’s the equivalent of sleeping in a car. However, Billy does have plenty of plushies thanks to you, and you use those to your advantage… so it’s not all bad :)

You asked Billy to teach you how to sling guns, and the entire tutorial sesh was just him feeling every inch of your body, memorizing and admiring how you looked. He loved you. All of you! He thought he was being sneaky, but you knew (and secretly loved it too).

Billy loves to carry you on his back and walk around. All I’m saying is, he’s got handlebars on that jacket for a reason… this has to be one of them……

Billy loves stickers. Self Explanatory!

Billy loves giving you gifts. He puts your needs over his more than he should, but luckily you’re not in this relationship to take advantage of his immaturity and inexperience. You give back as much as you can.

Billy is clingy. Needed to type it out despite it being loud as hell in this list.

Billy cant cook. Not like he needs to anyways, but he wants to learn for you! So when you’re cooking, he watches close behind you and asks you every question he can think of.

Billy likes to ask why… a lot. It gets frustrating sometimes, but he genuinely wants to learn.

—X—

A/N: thx for reading! idk might make a part 2 i’m gonna go fall asleep now :3

[vivalafxxku]

Scruffing of the Robins + others

i wholeheartedly believe that Bruce is devastated when he can no longer or never got to scruff his kids. Not only is it because his kids have matured to the point that they no longer impulsively jump into shit and need to be physically pulled back, it's because they grew.

He nearly cries when he tried to scruff Dick (his Robin may have gotten better impulsive control, but he was still a little shit) and his son only rises to his toes rather than the air. A whole new wave of tears when Dick (while he didn't grow much taller) changes to his more streamlined Nightwing suit so there's nothing to scruff without accidentally hurting him. Dick would catch his look of discontent and laugh, saying that this was exactly why his suit was designed the way it is.

Then there's Jason. Jason who was always pretty small (street kid woes), so even at 15, Bruce can comfortably scruff him. And most of the time, Jason goads him into scruffing him 'cause it's fun. But then he died and when he came back, his son nearly towers over Bruce and weighs just as much and won't let Bruce within 6ft of him without risking a bullet to the shoulder.

Oh but he tries, out of instinct or maybe nostalgia? A whimsical wish for the past, for a different reality? Though it's not much of a scruff and more of a yank to the brown leather jacket collar that earns him a snarl on a good day and physical harm on a bad one.

Tim doesn't get scruffed much and Bruce regrets it in hindsight. But back then, he was drowning in grief and Tim didn't need much scruffing, the Robin was metaphorically scruffing him than the other way around.

By the time Bruce gets around to scruffing Tim, it's a rare occurrence. Tim has all the discipline in the world when in his company despite what his brothers and team say, mind carefully calculating move after move, from travelling the world (something Tim refuses to elaborate other than a splenectomy that Bruce had to dig to find out) during his little stint in the time stream. But when he does, it's a Dick situation all over again where he just rises to his toes.

Cassandra was much too elusive and disciplined to be scruffed (not to mention, too tall). His daughter, however, does find amusement in the impulse and allows Bruce to scruff her, pulling her knees inwards to have the full experience of being airborne. But it's not the same. It's a different kind of fond; it doesn't have the protectiveness laced in the action. There's no exasperation, no "hold on a minute, let's think about it."

Barbara, Stephanie and Duke were too tall when Bruce took them in. And unlike Cass, they don't indulge him either. The existence of Batgirl hinged on the fact that she listens to Batman and Bruce had his hands full with Dick and Jason. Stephanie teases him, rubbing in the fact that she's not actually his kid; therefore, doesn't have to right to scruff her. And Duke is much too awkward, too new, to know if he should.

Then, there's Damian.

His little boy that flinched the first time Bruce reached out to scruff him. Bruce was still working on getting Damian comfortable around him, to show that he would never lay a hand on him. Then he was lost in time. He considered himself lucky that Dick took up more than being Batman. He came back and all he needed to do was figure out his and Damian's dynamic as father and son. (Turns out, Dick made a habit of scruffing Damian. "Won't lie to you, B. It's pretty effective.")

It's only a matter of time before when Damian outgrows being scruffed. Bruce already missed 10 years with his boy on top of being lost in time and puberty is going to hit him like a truck in a few years if he is anything like Bruce.

But for now, he enjoys his little Robin's protests and huffiness when he tries to jump into the fray prematurely while his family listens in amusement through the comms.

[smoshyourheadin]

Hi! Saw that your requests were open and wondered if you’d do something with Steve Harrington and reader where it’s based on season 4 and reader is catching the looks Steve and Nancy give each other so she confronts him and he reassures her there’s nothing going on?

only you

pairing: steve harrington x f! reader

a/n: I LOVE STEVE!! this was rlly fun to write :33 this request is so cute i love him eek!! also this is kind of inspired by the song ‘only you’ by yazoo bc i love that song heheh

it had been a rough few days. the kind of rough that made steve wish he could crawl under his bedcovers and stay there until the world decided to stop falling apart. but hiding wasn't an option when the upside down was causing havoc in hawkins again, and certainly not when nancy was back in his life, running headfirst into danger just like old times.

you had been a solid presence throughout the ordeal, offering reason when everyone else seemed ready to unravel. steve always appreciated you more than he could ever put into words. you were his rock, his anchor in the storm, and he knew he was the luckiest guy in the world to have you by his side.

tonight, the group had gathered in the wheeler basement, trying to piece together the story of the latest victim that vecna had left for them. nancy was flipping through her notebook, scribbling notes furiously, while steve tried to keep up with the conversation. he glanced over at her a few times, mostly out of habit. they had been through so much together that it was hard not to look back on those memories with a tinge of nostalgia.

but he didn’t realize how it must have looked to you.

you were sitting on the other side of the room, comforting el, whilst trying to focus on max’s recount of her latest vision, but your eyes kept drifting to steve and nancy. every stolen glance, every shared look between them, sent a pang of insecurity through your heart. you knew they had history - everyone did. but seeing them together again, working so closely, it made you wonder if maybe that history wasn't as buried as you hoped.

later, after the meeting had dispersed and everyone was heading home, you and steve walked to his car in silence. the quiet stretched uncomfortably between you, filled with words unsaid.

"hey," steve finally broke the silence as he unlocked the car. "y’okay?"

you nodded, but your expression betrayed you. steve could see the worry etched across your face. he gently touched your arm, stopping you before you could climb into the passenger seat.

"what's wrong?" he asked, his voice soft and full of concern.

you took a deep breath, looking up at him with eyes that threatened to spill over with tears. "i saw the way you were looking at nancy tonight," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "and... and the way she was looking at you."

steve's eyes widened in surprise, and then softened with understanding. he stepped closer, cupping your face in his hands. "hey, no," he said gently. "there’s nothing going on between me and nancy. we’re just trying to figure all this out, just like everyone else."

"but you have a history with her," you whispered, looking away. "and i can't help but feel like, like maybe you still have feelings for her."

steve's heart ached at the sight of your distress. he tilted your chin up so you would look at him, his gaze steady and sincere. "listen to me," he said firmly. "nancy and i... we had our time, but it’s over. i care about her as a friend, and that's it. you’re the one i’m with now. you’re the one i want to be with."

he pressed his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. "you’re my present and my future," he whispered. "i love you. only you."

you closed your eyes too, feeling the warmth of his words seep into your heart. "promise?" you asked, your voice small and vulnerable.

steve pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression full of love and determination. "i promise," he said. "i’m all in, with you. and I’m not going anywhere."

you let out a shaky breath, a smile breaking through the lingering doubt. "okay," you whispered.

steve leaned in and kissed you, slow and sweet, pouring all his reassurance and love into that kiss. when he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours again, a small smile playing on his lips. "no more doubts, okay?"

you nodded, feeling the weight of your worries lift. "okay."

with a final kiss on your forehead, steve opened the car door for you. as you both settled into your seats and drove away, the tension from earlier dissolved, replaced by a comforting sense of certainty. no matter what anything or anyone threw at you, you knew you had steve by your side. and that was enough.

[alaveii]

dan heng headcanons bcuz hoyo finally let my boy back into the spotlight

dh checks over his teammates all the time. even if he knows logically that nothing is wrong, his eyes will rove over their heads, their forearms, their midsections, and hands. anywhere he can see is evaluated at least twice in 20 mins.

he regularly seeks out exits. a habit left over from being chased by blade, or maybe due to his isolation in the shackling prison, he always assesses any space he’s in for every escape route.

connected to the previous point, this habit of his has shifted to accommodate march, welt, himeko, and the trailblazer as he became more comfortable with them. the most ideal exit went from “what he could escape through fastest” to “what we could get out through quickest without straining welt’s joints, or tripping up march, etc.” thin walls are also now a viable escape route for him as well now, due to the trailblazer’s raw strength and (semi) lack of inhibitions

when he first joined the express, he complemented himeko’s coffee. its not that he genuinely liked it, and he’s fairly certain it nearly returned him to an egg, but she offered and he couldn’t bring himself to deny or insult anything from the woman who gave him a home. when he drinks it now, the strain on his digestive tract is temporarily balanced out by the warm feeling of home and nostalgia, reminding him of when he first boarded the astral express.

in his IL form, his eyes, antlers, and tail fur glow faintly in the dark

he gets chronic migraines. whether caused from nightmares or shitty sleep, they creep up on him slowly before striking hard. the pain goes from ignorable to almost unbearable within minutes, and it’s during these migraines that he least appreciates his natural form. not out of body dysmorphia (like was for most of his time pre luofu arc), but because of the heightened senses and glowing features. they add to the pain, but switching forms usually only makes the migraine worse

dh is, in many ways, more like baiheng than dan feng. while he shares df’s icy exterior, features, and battle prowess, he also is notably more likely to tease and poke at his teammates. he has an odd streak for luck, running into danger just as easily as he gets away from it. he shares baiheng’s low, almost unnoticeable wanderlust and love of travel. he has a hotheadedness in battle reminiscent of the foxian pilot, fast and aggressive but never, ever, putting their family in danger. most prominently, dh and baiheng share an intense curiosity towards their fields of interest, and unwavering love and loyalty to those they hold dear.

dan heng, before march showed up, was very quiet. he rarely ever spoke unless spoken to, and if he did, it was short and quiet. welt and himeko rejoiced in seeing him open up when march boarded, growing into a snarky, protective, brotherly figure.

in his IL form, he has retractable claws. he usually keeps them hidden away, both for convenience (as he’s still learning to work with them) and due to insecurity.

he also has scales, though they’re sparse and scattered underneath his clothing. the biggest patch is at his shoulder, under his large sleeve. he has far fewer scales than df did, who kept most of his hidden under his fully-covered outfit.

dh found himself latching onto himeko the most often when he first boarded, and later the trailblazer as they grew closer. their natural heat was soothing to him, so he subconsciously started drifting to them when he needed comfort.

dh, after getting comfortable with his true form, found himself often lounging near, next to, or even sprawled over the rest of the express crew. he found another love language in physical contact, which his family happily indulged

the staff of herta space station are under the impression that dh is “the mom friend” or “the responsible one” of the trailblaze trio. he is not. he once lost his hotel room keys 3 times in one day. welt later sewed a clasped loop on the inside of his coat for him to attach his keys. him getting involved in a dubiously legal fighting ring (*cough* belobog *cough*) is not a first time occurrence, and will likely not be the last.

dh sometimes dreams of the good times with the hcq. he appreciates these, they make the quintet seem less like legends and more like people.

dh’s favorite dreams are of domestic moments with his express family.

[moonluvin]

obsession (part 1) - spencer reid

pairing: unsub dark!spencer reid x female reader

summary: in which y/n finds herself in the middle of the obsession and desire that a seemingly normal man has for her.

warnings: angst and fluff (don't worry, theres eventual smut)

a/n: happy reading! it's going to be a maximum of 5 parts.

word count: 1.4k

minors/ageless blogs dni.

masterlist

It’s so easy to be inserted into a person’s life when you make the right observations. Especially someone as unsuspecting as you.

For a while you wandered about your life mostly without worry, except for the usual bump in the road here and there. That’s just how life was for you, until it wasn’t.

Observant brown eyes had been on you the moment they caught sight of you walking across the street. You’d think a task such as crossing a road would be easy, but no, for you it was like an exciting little adventure - which is what brought you into the world of a man who had seen more bad in his life than he’d care to acknowledge.

Call it a fixation, interest, maybe even obsession? He didn’t know what it was about you, but he needed you. Desperately.

He didn’t have a lot going on in his life, which is the reason he found it so easy to pick up on your daily habits, routines, likes, dislikes and even certain gestures that indicated what thoughts may have been circulating around that pretty head of yours.

What he would do to be able to know what goes on in your mind-

Following someone who was so unaware of their surroundings made it easy for him to know more about you than anything. What was his motive? Did he really need one when all he wanted was you?

You walked freely with no worries to your favorite store that sold a variety of items such as vinyl’s, books, clothes and basically anything you could think of. You were a regular, so it was no surprise for the owner to get a random visit from you.

Browsing through the book aisles was your favorite pastime. Who else would find joy in finding a book they previously read and experiencing the nostalgia of finding it for the first time, not knowing just how much a small book would change your perspective on life itself.

Funny what silly words on pages can do to the human mind.

Your eyes darted between the different titles of books presented to you, when out of the corner of your eye, a tall figure came into view. You turned slightly in curiosity and saw the individual reaching for a book you read before.

His curly hair was falling in line with his eyes – which is the one feature of his that gained most of your attention.

What pretty eyes.

“That’s a good choice,” you say without thinking.

He didn’t expect you to speak to him, but then again, with you he learnt to expect the unexpected.

“What makes you say that?” he said, maintaining a soft curious tone.

“I’ve had the pleasure of reading it and fell into a world of literature I would experience all over again in a heartbeat,” you say in honesty.

He half smiled at your explanation and glanced back down to the book.

“You’ve influenced me to read it then,” he says with a nod.

You smile at his words and go back to your browsing; however, he stood there watching you.

It was a pleasure for him to see you this close and intimate. For you it may have been a normal exchange, but for him, it sealed the deal that he had to make you his. One way or another.

Weeks passed by and you were living your life as normal. Going to work, coming home, doing your usual routine and repeating your day all over again.

The one thing he realized about you was that you liked to stick to a schedule on doing things, thus making it easy for him to keep tabs on you.

When you finally got a free day, you found yourself at a park, one of the many places you frequented when you had free time. This was when he decided to make his second appearance in your life. He was sat on a bench you usually passed by on your way to your designated spot in the park.

The book in his hand immediately caught his attention and instantly you remembered where you’d seen him from.

“I remember you!”

He tried to hide his smile when you said those words. What a good girl you are for remembering who he was, that alone told him that his plan of making an impression on you worked.

His eyes gently darted up from the book to meet your eyes.

“Hi. You’re from that store with the books, right?” it was a simple sentence to not make it seem like he definitely knew who you were, let alone him knowing what he knew you were going to be having for dinner that same night.

The perks of having an eidetic memory.

“Right! I’m glad to see you reading the book,” your eyes move to the copy of ‘The Picture of Dorian Grey’ in his hand.

“It’s a really good book,” he admits and bookmarks the page he is on before setting it down beside him.

“Is it living up to the way I described the experience?” you asked with hopeful eyes.

“It certainly is, I’ve even taken to annotating my favorite lines,’ he says with a smile.

Those words alone left your heart jumping for joy. You loved sharing your interests with people, and you also loved when they’d share your interest.

“You’ve just become my favorite human for the day,” you say to him.

He quirks a brow at you but doesn’t say anything.

“See you around then,” you wave at him with a smile and walk away.

His eyes are fixed on you with intense curiosity, as if you're something from another world. He enjoys the peculiarity of your existence.

He looked back to the book in his hand. He was being truthful about annotating his favorite lines, he already has the book memorized and know what your favorite line from the book is.

With his experience in life, and the resources he had to his disposal, it was easy for him to monitor your online presence.

Your friends thought signing you up for a dating app would be a good idea to get you out there. He clicked his tongue as he saw the men who were messaging you. He dealt with people like them in his work life.

He couldn’t let his sunshine go through that, especially when he puts men like that behind bars.

And so, he knew how to make you his.

Like a predatory taunting its prey, he followed you in the shadows as you walked home from a night out with your friends. You had a few drinks, but assured your friends you were okay enough to make it home.

How silly can you be? Maybe it was the rose-tinted glasses you saw the world through or maybe it was the drinks confusing your thoughts, but you wouldn’t have to worry about things like that anymore.

The cap he was wearing did little to hide him, even under the glow of the moonlight.

You stumbled and giggled as you almost fell over, a small smile made its way to his face. You made it too easy.

He acted quickly as he made his way to you and steadied you from stumbling once again.

“Who are- OH… you’re the man with the pretty eyes from the park. How are you!?” you said with the biggest smile on your face.

Spencer had to stop himself from throwing you over his shoulder and taking you back to his place. His control slipped the moment he laid his hands on you.

“Hello sunshine,” was all you heard before feeling a prick of pain on your arm, and soon everything started to fade away – the last thing you saw were those pretty brown eyes.

[jasmineoolongtea]

plastic palm trees ― gojo satoru

caught in a dream, it's not what it seems

contents: gojo satoru x f!reader (exes), from the reader's pov this time, nicknames (sweets), angst, hurt + no comfort, questionable coping mechanism, small moments of happiness/fluff (in the flashbacks/memories), suggestive themes for like one memory, swearing/cursing, insecurities from the reader's side, drinking/alcohol

summary: memories from during and immediately after your relationship with satoru (pt. 2 to deeply still in love)

wc: 4.7k (wow that's a doozy and sorry on my part for any errors you might spot because this is kinda not proofread)

a/n: ahhh ty guys sm for the love on deeply still in love, i was not expecting it to blow up like that but i'm just so happy that you guys also enjoy it as well !!! this is kinda a part 2 but not really since it's mainly flashbacks. there is a part 3/conclusion to this whole mini saga coming soon so watch out for it :000. art by objectgraphy on x (nsfw warning for the full pic)

It plays again in your head like a clip from a movie you've seen way too many times.

It's you and him, just the two of you and no one else, sitting in his stupid beat-up black jeep wrangler that's probably seen too much by this point that's parked in the middle of some random parking lot well past midnight by now.

Satoru always complains that something's broken for the hundredth time whenever he comes to pick you up from your dorm for another one of his late-night rendevous however despite all this complaining, you're always greeted with the sight of the same black car even though you know he has a car collection that's way too extensive for any reasonable university student to have.

You're pretty sure you've lost count of how many times you've asked to just get a new car at this point but he always refuses for some reason that's beyond you.

Nostalgia, he says as he pats the well-worn leather lining of its interior. We've been through a lot, me and this one, he'll add on, talking about the vehicle as a person rather than some inanimate object and then he'll start pouting at you like some sort of petulant child when you stare back at him unconvinced.

There's a part of you that wants to call him a 'sentimental idiot' for stuff like this but actually, habits like this only serve to further endear him to you in some weird twist of fate and you can only muster an affectionate eye roll as a response.

There's no particular reason as to why you and Satoru would drive out and just sit and be together like this. It wasn't even because of this specific parking lot as well since you two would just usually drive around until you found a parking lot that looked empty enough and just park there to bask under the canopy of the night sky above.

It was always so quiet. You liked the quiet.

Before you met Satoru, you thought this quiet was something only you could keep to yourself but he taught you that there was merit to be had in sharing the quiet with someone else. Even if that someone else might make your 'quiet' much louder than what you're typically used to.

"I like it here." You mumble softly in the sleeves of your (his) sweater. It was one of your favourites because it was soft and it smelled like him.

"You like the city?" There's an edge of suspicion in his voice like he can't believe someone could ever like this place coming from someone who's grown up in said city. To be fair, the place had its good, bad and ugly and maybe as a city native, he had become accustomed to more of the bad and ugly rather than the good.

"I mean, it's nicer from where I came from. A lot of places are nicer than the town I'm from." You laugh half-heartedly as you lean against the cold glass of the window.

Satoru goes quiet for a moment. You don't talk about your hometown that much and for good reason, in your opinion. University was one of your few chances to get out of there and you took that chance without so much of a look back or regret in your mind.

It's nice, cosy even, if you ignore the slight tingling sensation crawling up your legs when you sit in the way you like to sit for too long or the fact that you're both hanging out in an abandoned parking lot in the dead of night. Whatever this is, you think you wouldn't change it for the world if you were given the choice.

Too bad, your getaway couldn't last forever.

The words are weighing heavy on your tongue, just there on the tip as if they're ready to jump off any second but you tighten your lips in a frail attempt to stop them from spilling out. You know the words you're going to have to say will change the way that things are, no matter how much you want things to stay like this.

Satoru leans his head against the car window next to him, hitting the glass with a soft bonk that you're sure hurts but of course, he doesn't react to the collision. Instead, his attention is focused on staring at you, angling his body in a way so that he can get a better look at you, with that classic dopey smirk of his plastered on his face as he does.

A part of you hates him for being able to look so good even in the broken glow of the overhead parking lot lights that would have made anyone else look sickly under its cracked yellow hue.

Not him though, never him. He looks like an angel, you think to yourself, with the way the wisps of white hair splayed out around him illuminate into something that resembles a halo which further elevates his already ethereal features into something otherwordly.

"Shame, it can't last though." You murmur quietly to yourself, moreso of in the vein of thinking out loud rather than starting a conversation. Unfortunately for you, it seems he's heard you.

"What do you mean?" He asks, sitting a little bit straighter in the driver's seat as he looks on inquisitively.

You avoid looking back at him because you know if you could see his expression, it would only make saying goodbye harder. "I can't stay, Toru." You tell him as you gaze into the black nothingness of the night sky from inside the car. "I'll have to move back after graduation."

"What? Why?"

"The rent is crazy expensive here. The only reason I can stay here for uni is because of the student pricing and now that we're graduating, there's no way I can afford to find a place in time." You gnaw nervously at the bottom of your lip as you speak, a bad habit, you know, but it's just something you can't really kick.

You don't want it to end like this, who would? You don't want to say goodbye to the city, to your life, to him. You've had your first taste of true independence and it's being taken away from you because of stupid expensive rent prices, of all things.

A very anti-climatic way to go out if anyone were to ask you.

The car is dead silent for a few minutes. You're scared for whatever his reaction is going to be. He's going to break up with you, isn't he? You think to yourself and you hate the fact that your mind instantly jumps to the worst option but you can already feel a pit start forming at the bottom of your stomach .

The longer the silence drags the more you're convinced he's going to kick you out of the car or something worse and you can already feel yourself bracing for whatever fallout is coming your way.

"Then move in with me. I have an apartment here, a pretty good apartment if you ask me." He states, shrugging his shoulders casually as if he were simply talking about the weather instead of suggesting something as major as this.

"...What?" You reply, though your words come out more as a question as you try to comprehend what he's just asked.

A beat of silence passes the two of you. You don't move.

"I'm serious. Move in with me." You scan his face for any of the typical telltale signs that he might be pulling a prank on you and you find his face scarily devoid of any of them.

Oh, he's dead serious, you think to yourself, with the way he's looking expectantly at you.

"Satoru, do you understand what you're asking?" You ask, still in a state of disbelief at his offer.

He makes a face at you like the answer to your question is the most obvious thing in the world.

"Obviously, if I didn't why would I ask you." He remarks as he raises an eyebrow at you and before you can open your mouth to retort back, he brings a finger up to your lips to silence you. "And, it's not that strange of a request considering the fact that you're my girlfriend. Don't people in a relationship usually move in together like isn't that some big relationship milestone that they look forward to?"

"I-I mean it is but still."

"Okay, then what's the problem."

"I don't know." You sigh, mulling over his proposition in your head for a bit before turning back to him.

"Just promise me this, Toru. Promise me you won't get sick of me?" You ask him as you reach out your pinky towards him.

A pinky promise. It's childish you know but Satoru knows how much small things like this mean to you.

He reaches his hand out to you and interlocks his pinky with you but before you can pull away, he laces his other fingers with yours and brings your hands up to his lips for a soft kiss. The tips of your ears burn red at the way his lips brush your skin.

"Sweets, I could never get sick of you. Actually, I don't think I could ever get over you as long as I lived."

"You better hope that's true or I'm gonna make you eat your words." You grin cheekily at him, a smile which he reciprocates tenfold before basically pouncing over the console to wrap his arms around you. A squeal escapes you as you burst out into a fit of giggles as he peppers your face with feather-light kisses all whilst fighting off your weak attempts at pushing him off.

His arms rest against the plush leather of the passenger seat, trapping you against him, as his flurry of kisses dies down. He stops for a second, admiring the sight of you so close to him and a part of you wants to shrink from the intensity of his gaze. Unfortunately with the way that his arms are caging you in, there's nowhere to hide and you're left at his mercy.

Satoru leans closer, barely inches away from your face as he hovers right above your lips. "Oh yeah? Well, you're gonna be waiting for a long time because that's never gonna happen." His lips find their place against yours, melting into you like they were made for you and you think to yourself that this must be what home feels like.

Another memory of a happier time flashes through after that.

This time, you're lost in between the bedsheets with him, bare skin on skin as the two of you whisper sweet nothings to each other like lovers do in the dead of night when there's no one watching.

"I like it here." He mutters softly. His arm is wrapped around your waist, pulling you into him like you're his very own lifeline, and his legs are haphazardly intertwined with yours in some mess of limbs that might be able to pass as an abstract art piece if you look at it right from a certain angle.

The blanket is resting dangerously low around his hips and you're wondering how he isn't freezing as you cling onto him as your own personal space heater in the darkness that surrounds the two of you.

It's quiet once again.

"What? Us naked in your bed?" You quip.

"You know that's not what I meant." He groans into your bare shoulder as you giggle softly to yourself, clearly pleased with your well-timed jibe.

"Sorry, I just had to take the opportunity to tease you."

You can't necessarily see him right now but you're sure he's probably lovingly rolling his eyes at you. A sigh escapes his lips and you shiver slightly from the way the blast of hot air hits your skin.

"I like it here when it's just me and you and there's no one else except us in this world." He confesses to you as his fingers begin to explore the expanses of your body as if trying to commit the way you feel under his fingertips into memory.

You bite the corner of your lip as you fight the urge to shrink under his delicate touch.

There's another jest resting on the tip of your tongue but you decide that Satoru's had enough terrorising on your behalf so you say nothing and instead quietly soak up this rare respite from the busyness of everyday life that has been afforded to you two.

"Just us, together, in this bed where we don't need to care about anything else except just that." He adds on, his voice resolute and although you don't say anything out loud, you think you agree with him.

In here, in between these four walls, you two can pretend that the entire world existed within these confines and all the two of you needed to do was to reach out and you had the world at your fingertips. At the end of the day, it was simple and something the two of you could forever return to.

You wished that things could stay simple.

Before you can linger on that moment any longer, it's gone in the blink of an eye as another memory swoops in to take its place.

The door to your shared apartment creeks open and as you crane your head towards the doorway from your spot on the sofa, you're greeted with the sight of a slightly dazed Satoru clumsily entering.

"What's up?" You ask as you shoot up from your place, quickly making your way across the apartment to check up on him as a pang of concern over his current state hits you.

At the sight of you, Satoru is suddenly drawn back into reality as he blinks owlishly for a few seconds as if attempting to reacquaint himself with his surroundings and bring his clearly distracted mind back into reality.

"I just got a call from my family's company. They're giving me the chance to head a new division they want to expand into." He replies as he runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit of his which shows that this offer is clearly weighing heavy on him. You take his hand in yours and give it a comforting squeeze in the way that he would do for you all those times before, a gesture you can tell he greatly appreciates with the way his shoulders sag with relief.

He confesses softly to you. "I don't know if I should do it."

"Why? What's holding you back?" You question, somewhat confused by his hesitation. This is a major offer and you're surprised that he isn't jumping off the walls with excitement but you're sure he must have his reasons.

"I just- The hours are going to be long and well, you know how many family is and the elders are-"

You cut him off sharply, sensing that Satoru was on his way down a lengthy ramble. "I think you should take it." He stares at you, almost slightly bewildered at your apt response. "It'll be good for you."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course, I'm sure Toru. If you don't take this opportunity, you're going to regret later down the line." You insist, sending a reassuring smile his way. Even if he can't see it now, you're sure that this going to be good for him. For the both of you.

Whatever new hurdles that might come your way from this like Satoru is convinced is going to happen, you have faith that the two of you can make it out relatively unscathed.

It's good to have faith right?

The new question was, how long can your faith carry you?

You're pacing back and forth in your shared apartment for what seems like the millionth time as you anxiously watch the seconds tick down on the clock.

"Hey, Toru. What time do you think you're going to be back?" You're trying to balance the phone between your ear and shoulder as you smooth out a napkin to the best of your ability. It's looking a little wonky, if you're going to be honest and maybe tonight of all nights wasn't really the time to find out if you were good at folding napkins into fancy shapes like they do at the restaurant but you needed tonight to go according to plan.

It had to. Tonight was an important night for both of you.

"Why, what's the occasion?" From the way he's asking, you don't think he's putting on an act of pretending not to know for the surprise. Rather, it's a genuine question on his behalf and somehow, for some reason, that feels even worse than outright disgust.

"Did you forget?" You feel your voice falter ever so slightly, another crack etching its way onto your already fragile heart. "It's our anniversary dinner."

"Shit, I'm so sorry, sweets. It totally slipped my mind with all of these meetings and stuff they're having me do." You hear an exhausted sigh ring out from the other side of the phone in between the cacophony of other voices taking up space in the background. "I'll make it up to you, I swear."

"...No, It-it's fine. We can just reschedule this stuff for another day." A breathy laugh leaves your lips in a weak attempt to try and convince him that it was truly alright and that it was just something else to brush off.

"...If you say so."

"I'm serious, Satoru. It's fine, I can just reschedule things for another day that's all." Another one to add to the evergrowing pile, a bitter voice barks from within the recesses of your mind.

Much to your chagrin, you're unfortunately becoming much more acquainted with this voice and although you haven't responded to its taunts yet, you can feel your resolve wearing away with each late night you watch the streets below for any sign of life, his life to be specific.

Worst of all, you can't say you regret this, can you? Because if you do, then it would basically be confessing that all of the pain and late nights the both of you have been sacrificing have been all for nought and that you were wrong for pushing the both of you down this path.

It needs to be worth it so that there's a reason for this pain that you're feeling when things like this become an afterthought but you're starting to wonder how many times you have to say it until it becomes real instead of just a pipe dream you had the misfortune of being caught in.

Soon, it seemed that these doubts weren't just one-sided anymore.

"This is good for us, right?" Satoru asks one night as the two of you are getting ready for bed. It's been a while since the two of you have gone to bed at the same time as your clocks fall further and further out of sync the longer you two spend out of each other's embrace. There's a strong hint of uncertainty in his voice like he's trying to convince himself as much as he's trying to convince you. "...You're happy right?"

You don't look at him in the eye. You can't. "Right, yeah. I mean, this is what we want." Your answer isn't as resolute as you hoped that it would come out but you brush past it in the hopes of making sure whatever doubts you may have bubbling underneath your surface remain there.

"You didn't answer my other question."

A nervous laugh escapes you. "What do you mean?"

"Are you happy?" You stop in your tracks for a moment as you process his question.

There were a lot of things you could have said at that time, the truth would have been a good option, but instead, you chose to swallow the difficult choice down and take the easy way out by plastering on a sickly sweet smile and lying to him through your teeth.

"Of course, I'm happy Satoru."

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you're greeted with that oh-so-familiar sensation of that pit in the bottom of your stomach as the bitter voice you've tried to suppress makes its infamous return to the forefront of your mind.

Looking back at it now, maybe you should have said the truth, it would have saved you two a lot of pain in retrospect but pride is a funny thing and you're sure that Satoru was in the same position you were in at this point.

That's probably why he didn't push any further after your response, no matter how fake it probably sounded out loud. It's either that or he wanted to believe that you were actually telling the truth.

You're not sure which one is worse.

In another world, you would like to think that there's a point to your mind deciding to subject you to this trip down memory lane aside from dredging up your past pains and regrets to torture you. Maybe, in this other world, you would have a sudden life-changing revelation awaiting you at the end of the road but all you can see just nothing.

It's better this way, right? For the both of you.

You told yourself that when you sat him down and broke up with him in the total sum of a few sentences before leaving because you didn't want to truly say goodbye to him as that would make everything more real and therefore much worse. You told yourself that when you sat in the backseat of your friend's car they came to pick you up for a night out because they insisted that you needed to get out of your head sometimes. You tell yourself this when you stare into the barrel of the gun in the form of the glass of alcohol sitting in front of you.

He deserves better than being lied to on the daily and someone like you holding him back. You can't even remember the last time you actually, truly looked him in the eye for longer than a few seconds. You imagine the old you who loved to get lost in the vast expanses of his cerulean eyes that would gaze at you like you were the one who personally hung the stars in the sky.

Before, if his eyes were the great roaring ocean, you would gladly let yourself get pulled under by the tide even if it meant drowning in its depth. Now, you're scared to even dip your toes in the shoreline when the wave is nothing more than just the remnants of sea foam.

You reach over for another sip, pretending like the burning aftertaste left in its wake doesn't make you want to wince.

Maybe Satoru was onto something with his dislike of alcohol. You've learned that after a few drinks, all liquor, no matter the amount of zeros slapped onto the end of its price tag starts to taste the same by the end of the night.

There's just so much of him everywhere. In the objects, the, hell even the air. You think you might suffocate from the sheer amount of him you're surrounded by. It doesn't matter where you go, all you can see is him.

You needed to get out.

Pushing past the crowd all whilst ignoring the confused calls of your friends to your sudden switch in behaviour, you stumble your way to the bathroom and lock the door behind you as you slump down defeated next to the sink.

Truth be told, his question haunts you more than you would like to admit.

"Are you happy?"

You don't think you are. Maybe you should be, you have everything that would usually qualify for someone to answer that they are happy and you're no longer that struggling student you were a few years ago which is definitely a plus.

You tell other people that you are 'happy' when they ask, with a smile that never reaches your eyes and a grip that's probably too tight on whatever you're holding in your hands at the time but the answer never feels right, no matter how many times you say it out loud and let it roll off your tongue.

Despite what you tell yourself, perhaps the time when you were happy, truly happy, was when you were with him.

Deep down, you think that if you were given the choice between now and then, you would trade all of this for a chance to be those dumb kids sitting and making out in parking lots without a care in the world except for each other again in a heartbeat.

As you study the tiles of the wall opposite you, you think to yourself that it would be nice to stay here in this bathroom, far away from the rest of the world and far away from what feels like all your regrets personified but the logical, reasonable part of you knows that there's no way you could realistically stay here any longer before your friends start worriedly banging on the door.

Slowly, your shoulders deflate with a defeated sigh as you stand up and make your way out of whatever bar you've been dragged to as you bid your friends goodbye in a way that you hope doesn't raise any suspicions.

The air feels bitingly cold as the wind nips at your face while you stand awkwardly on the curb, waiting for a taxi as you go to both the first and last place you want to be at; your apartment. Ironically, in a cruel twist of fate, the total absence of anything relating to Satoru only makes his lack of presence only more pronounced.

If this was the universe's doing, then you had a few choice words for them to say the least.

You wrap your arms around yourself in a vain attempt to maintain some semblance of body heat as you quickly flag down the nearest car and clamber in. When you arrive back, you glance at the clock and you have to fight the urge to let out a laugh when you see that it's barely even past 10pm and you're already back at home.

Pathetic, the bitter voice in your head spits out.

You do what you do best and ignore it as you collapse into the embrace of your bed and try your bed to lull yourself to whatever empty dreamscape awaits you this time if only to get a moment away from your current reality. It doesn't last long though because you're awoken by the shrill ringing of your phone.

Should have silenced it, you curse yourself silently as you blindly reach for it. Once it's in your hands, you squint as the blinding brightness of the screen and a flicker of recognition flashes through you as you realise who's actually calling you and for some reason, against your better judgment, you pick up.

When you hang up, you don't go back to sleep. Rather, you're unable to go back to sleep as you're left staring blankly at the ceiling above you. The bed feels too big for one person and you find yourself missing the nights where you could go to sleep alone and wake up in the arms of another.

Much like when you're forced to watch a replay of all your memories, you're wondering if what you said was right. If you were to go by what you've been telling yourself since the breakup, then sure, you did the right thing. But if it is truly the right thing, then it doesn't explain this inexplicable emptiness gnawing deep within your chest or this aching feeling that sits in a place you can't quite reach but are all too aware of.

The longer you let your mind run through all the possibilities you can think of, the more often you find yourself coming back to the same conclusion. It's better this way, be damned, you think to yourself and with that, you make up your mind to set off on a mission.

Out of all of the places you could have found yourself at, this is definitely quite down low on the list and maybe this is what you deserve for trusting your feet instead of your head but you decide that at this point, you don't have much else to lose and so, you gather up the courage to say the words that you've been waiting to say for a while.

"Hi."

[m4rv3l-girl]

https://youtu.be/T_VcDbPon4s?si=3htb3msk-ozJv-8w

Bucky x reader based on this

Bucky sees reader and instantly feels a connection but doesn't see her again until Tony announces that he has a new assistant and its reader!!

Somewhere In Brooklyn

Warnings: none

The winter sun was setting behind the buildings of Brooklyn, casting long shadows over the streets as Bucky Barnes walked down the familiar sidewalks. He stuffed his hands deep into the pockets of his leather jacket, trying to ward off the biting chill that seeped through his gloves. The streets were quieter than usual, punctuated only by the occasional honk of a taxi or the chatter of passersby.

He had been out for hours, trying to escape the four walls of the compound. It wasn’t often he ventured into the city alone, but something about today had pulled him out. Maybe it was nostalgia. Maybe it was just the need to feel something beyond the constant hum of missions and training. Whatever it was, it had led him here.

And then he saw her.

She was standing outside a small café, her head tilted back as she laughed at something her friend had said. He only caught the woman beside her saying “Y/N, seriously?” while giggling. The sound of her laughter didn’t carry to him, but the sight of her was enough to make him pause mid-step.

She was wrapped in a thick scarf, her cheeks were rosy from the cold, her hands cradling a steaming cup of coffee. There was something about her - something that made the world around him blur into nothing.

Bucky wasn’t one for believing in fate or destiny. His life had been too harsh, too brutal for such fanciful notions. But in that moment, as she glanced up and her eyes briefly met his, he felt something shift. Her smile faltered for the briefest second, her brows knitting together as if she recognized him. Then she turned back to her friend, and the moment was gone.

Bucky didn’t know how long he stood there, staring after her. By the time he shook himself out of his stupor, she was walking away, disappearing into the crowded streets. He wanted to call out, to follow her, but his feet were rooted to the ground. The metal fingers of his left hand twitched in his pocket, a nervous habit he hadn’t been able to shake.

“Get a grip, Barnes,” he muttered under his breath.

For days after, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. Her laugh, her smile, the way her eyes had seemed to pierce right through him—it was all he could think about. He told himself it was ridiculous, that she was just a stranger. But logic didn’t stop the ache of wanting to see her again.

Weeks passed, and life went on as usual. Missions came and went, the team bickered and bonded, and Bucky fell back into the rhythm of his new normal. He tried to push thoughts of her away, but she lingered in the corners of his mind, a constant, gentle presence that he couldn’t shake.

Then, one morning, everything changed.

Tony Stark sauntered into the common room, his usual swagger intact as he clapped his hands together. “Listen up, everyone. We’ve got a new team member joining us today.”

Steve glanced up from the newspaper he was reading. “Another recruit?”

“Not quite,” Tony said, smirking. “My new assistant. She’s brilliant, organized, and, most importantly, she actually likes me. Unlike the rest of you ingrates.”

“Hard to believe,” Natasha muttered, earning a chuckle from Clint.

Bucky didn’t pay much attention to the exchange. He was nursing a cup of coffee, his thoughts elsewhere. It wasn’t until Tony said her name that his head snapped up.

“Y/N should be here any minute,” Tony continued. “Try not to scare her off, okay?”

The name hit him like a freight train. His heart started pounding, and his grip on the mug tightened. It couldn’t be. It was a common enough name, wasn’t it? But as if summoned by some cosmic twist of fate, the elevator doors dinged, and she stepped out.

It was her.

She looked slightly different from the last time he’d seen her—dressed in professional attire, her hair neatly styled—but there was no mistaking her. She was just as radiant, just as breathtaking as she had been that day in Brooklyn.

“Everyone, meet Y/N,” Tony announced, gesturing grandly. “She’s going to make sure I actually show up to meetings on time and don’t blow up the lab. A Herculean task, I know.”

Y/N offered a small smile, her gaze sweeping over the group. When her eyes landed on Bucky, they widened slightly, recognition flashing across her face.

“Hi,” she said, her voice soft but steady. “It’s nice to meet you all.”

Bucky stood frozen, his mind racing. Did she remember him? Or was he just another face in the sea of strangers she encountered every day? He wanted to say something, anything, but his tongue felt heavy in his mouth.

Steve, ever the gentleman, stepped forward and shook her hand. “Welcome to the team. I’m Steve.”

The rest of the introductions followed, each of the team members taking turns to greet her. When it was finally Bucky’s turn, he felt like his heart might leap out of his chest.

“Bucky,” he said simply, holding out his hand.

Her fingers brushed against his as they shook, and he swore he felt a jolt of electricity. Her smile was polite, but there was something in her eyes—curiosity, maybe? Or was it recognition?

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said.

“You too,” he managed, his voice barely above a whisper.

For the rest of the day, Bucky couldn’t focus on anything. Every time she walked into the room, his gaze would flicker to her, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. She was so close, yet so far, and he had no idea what to do about it.

Over the next few weeks, Bucky found himself drawn to her in ways he couldn’t explain. She was smart and kind, with a quiet confidence that made her stand out. She treated everyone with respect, even Tony when he was being insufferable, and she had a way of making people feel at ease.

He started finding excuses to be around her—helping her carry files to the lab, offering to grab coffee when she looked stressed, lingering in the common room when he knew she’d be there. Slowly but surely, they began to talk. Small conversations at first—about work, about Brooklyn, about anything and everything. And with each passing day, Bucky felt himself falling deeper and deeper.

One evening, as they sat on the couch watching a movie, she turned to him, her expression thoughtful. “I feel like I’ve seen you before,” she said. “Before I started working here.”

Bucky’s heart skipped a beat. “You were at a café in Brooklyn a couple of months ago,” he admitted. “I saw you there.”

Her eyes widened. “That was you?”

“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly nervous. “I wanted to say something, but…I didn’t.”

A smile slowly spread across her face, warm and genuine. “Well, you’re saying something now.”

And just like that, Bucky felt the weight of the world lift off his shoulders. Maybe fate wasn’t such a fanciful notion after all.

——————————————————————————————————

Hope you enjoyed it, let me know if you want another part! 🫶

[glowettee]

studying like spencer hastings: a guide by mindy on becoming rosewood's top student 📚 (pll mini-series part 1)

hey loves! mindy here with an in-depth guide on how to truly embody spencer hastings' iconic study methods. i completely watched all 7 seasons of pretty little liars with my mother when the show first came out, it gives me so much nostalgia now, and i'm currently binge-watching it again. i decided to make a post based on spencer hastings and how she aces the "study icon" in the show. let's actually get into the mind of our favorite overachieving hastings sister and her actual study habits from the show.

spencer's signature study locations

the hastings' barn (her perfect study sanctuary)

the brew (corner table with coffee always)

rosewood high library (usually after hours)

her bedroom desk (facing the dilaurentis house)

hastings family kitchen island (late night cramming spot)

the hastings family pressure approach

spencer's drive comes from:

competing with melissa's academic record

maintaining the hastings family reputation

being top of every class

getting into upenn (her family legacy)

running for academic decathlon

spencer's actual study routine (as seen in pll)

morning routine:

field hockey practice at dawn

review notes during breakfast

morning newspaper with coffee

quiz herself while getting ready

arrive early to help teachers

study techniques we see spencer use:

reciting french verbs while stress-cleaning

creating murder boards (but make it academic)

using her photographic memory skills

studying while on the elliptical

recording herself reading notes

spencer-specific organization methods

her iconic planner system:

color-coded by subject and priority

sticky tabs for important deadlines

cross-referencing system

weekly, monthly, and semester goals

extracurricular schedule integration

the hastings approach to academic competition

remember when spencer:

joined academic decathlon despite drama

competed against mona

studied russian history all night

memorized entire poems

practiced debate skills with melissa

spencer's stress management (what we should and shouldn't copy)

healthy habits:

stress baking

field hockey as outlet

piano playing breaks

organizing when anxious

intense research sessions

things to avoid:

pushing herself to exhaustion

skipping meals for studying

letting competition consume you

isolating from friends

spencer's actual study materials (seen throughout pll)

her desk essentials:

leather-bound planners

monogrammed notebooks

post-it notes everywhere

family laptop

classic literature collection

ap study guides

debate team materials

newspaper clippings

french dictionaries

spencer's unique study methods

specific techniques we see her use:

creating conspiracy theory boards for subjects

turning historical events into mystery cases

debating with herself in the mirror

teaching aria and emily to boost understanding

writing perfect notes during crisis moments

the hastings time management system

how spencer balances:

field hockey team captain duties

maintaining perfect grades

student government

russian history club

debate team

family obligations

solving mysteries (kidding… kind of)

spencer's power moves

signature spencer habits:

correcting teachers (iconic but maybe don't)

knowing answers before questions are finished

having backup assignments ready

keeping extra credit work on hand

maintaining perfect attendance despite being threatened by a mysterious stalker

spencer hastings didn't become valedictorian by accident. her intense dedication, although sometimes extreme, shows us the importance of commitment and passion in academics. just remember to balance it better than she did!

sending you all the hastings determination minus the hastings family drama! ✨

xoxo, mindy

[starrrcane]

Memories of Melodies

sevika x reader angst/comfort

summary: As you both reminisce over music, it triggers sevika’s past. You help her find her truest memories, helping her cope with nostalgia

warnings: sad sevika, friendzoned sevika…

notes: hi guys, I actually haven’t written in like 472847 years please bear with me. I love u, drink water, sleep well gn!

Silco’s office was quieter than usual, save for the faint hum of conversation behind his closed door. He was locked in one of his drawn-out discussions with Singed, leaving you and Sevika to fend off the boredom in the corner of the room. Sevika to fend off the boredom in the corner of the room.

You’d been flipping through the records Silco kept on a dusty shelf, intrigued by the eclectic collection. Finding one that seemed interesting, you placed it on the player, letting the soft, jazzy melody fill the room.

Sevika, lounging in a chair with her feet propped up, glanced at you. “What are you doing?”

“Keeping myself entertained,” you said, swaying slightly to the rhythm. “What, does Silco not allow music?”

She shrugged. “Doesn’t usually come up.”

You spun around to face her, your expression suddenly curious. “Do you have a favorite song?”

Sevika snorted. “No.”

“No?” You stared at her like she’d just admitted to hating puppies. “How can you not like music? That’s basically a crime!”

“It’s just... not my thing,” she said, avoiding your gaze.

“Why?” you pressed, dramatically clutching your chest as if her indifference physically pained you. Sevika sighed, her brows knitting together in annoyance—or perhaps something deeper. “It’s complicated.”

“Well, I’ve got time,” you said, leaning on the edge of Silco’s desk and grinning at her.

She stared at you for a long moment, her expression guarded. Then, almost imperceptibly, her shoulders sagged. “My mom used to sing to me,” she said, her voice low and distant.

You immediately dropped the teasing tone. “Oh...”

“She’d sing the same song every night before bed,” Sevika continued, her gaze fixed on some point in the room that only she could see. “After she... after I lost her. I’ve tried to remember it, but it’s like it’s just... gone.” She can’t remember much from her childhood, the effect of the shimmer, alcohol and the air in Zaun had become a triple threat on everyone there, not just her.

Her mechanical fingers flexed slightly, a nervous habit you’d noticed before. “I don’t even know the words anymore. Just bits and pieces.”

You hesitated, watching the way her jaw tightened. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

Sevika shook her head, exhaling sharply. “It’s fine. I just...” She paused, searching for the right words. “I miss hearing it. I don’t know why, but I do.”

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, the weight of her admission hanging in the air. Then an idea sparked in your mind, and you straightened. “You know,” you began carefully, “I grew up with this guy who moved to Piltover and became a musician...”

Sevika gave you a skeptical look. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well,” you said, grinning now, “we could go see him. Maybe he could help you figure out the song.” Her eyes narrowed. “Sneak up to Piltover? Are you out of your mind?”

“Maybe,” you admitted, hopping off the desk. “But wouldn’t it be worth it if we found it?”

Sevika’s gaze flickered with something you couldn’t quite place—hesitation, hope, or maybe just disbelief. “You’d do that for me?”

You rolled your eyes, reaching out to grab her hand and tug her out of the chair. “Duh. You’re my friend.”

Her lips twitched, almost forming a smile before she caught herself. “This is a terrible idea.”

“Most good ones are,” you said cheerfully, dragging her toward the door.

“Silco’s going to kill us,” Sevika muttered, but she didn’t pull away.

“Only if we get caught,” you shot back, flashing her a grin.

And just like that, the two of you slipped out into the shadows of the Undercity, the thought of your little adventure pushing everything else to the back of your minds. For now, it was just the two of you, and the distant hope of a song waiting to be found.

The office door creaked as you pushed it open, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “James!” you called, your voice echoing in the cozy space.

A head popped around the corner, the familiar face of your old classmate framed by a cascade of sheet music tacked to the walls. His hair was tousled, and his sleeves were rolled up, as if he’d been in the middle of composing.

He blinked at you . “What are *you* doing here?” He exclaimed in surprise

You walk in father into the room, tossing your bag onto the nearest chair. “You said I could visit whenever I wanted. I’ve got a question for you.”

James raised an eyebrow, stepping fully into view.

You turning back toward the doorway. “C’mon, Sevika,” you called, reaching back to grab her arm. But your fingers only met empty air.

Frowning, you glanced over your shoulder and saw her lingering in the hallway, her broad frame almost comically out of place in the polished, sunlit corridor. She had one hand on the doorframe, her posture stiff as her wary eyes darted around.

“Sevika,” you called again, more insistently this time. “Get in here.”

She peeked her head around the corner, her expression caught somewhere between annoyance and reluctance. “This was your idea,” she muttered.

“Yeah, and I didn’t drag us all the way up here for you to stand in the hall. Come on,” you said, waving her in like she was a skittish stray.

Sevika hesitated for another moment, then sighed heavily and stepped into the room. Her presence seemed to fill the space instantly, and you could see James’s eyes widen as he took in her towering figure and mechanical arm.

“Well,” James said, his tone lighter but edged with curiosity. “This is... unexpected.”

“James, Sevika. Sevika, James,” you said quickly, gesturing between them. “She’s the one with the question, not me.”

Sevika shot you a glare, but you only smiled back, waiting. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she crossed her arms, clearly uncomfortable. “This was a mistake,” she muttered.

“No, it wasn’t,” you countered firmly. “Go on. Ask him.”

James leaned against his desk, watching the interaction with mild amusement. “This about music, I assume?”

Sevika finally exhaled, her shoulders dropping slightly. “There’s... a song,” she began, her voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. “I don’t know the name, and I don’t remember much of it. But my mom used to sing it to me when I was a kid.”

James’s curiosity sharpened, and he straightened, gesturing for her to continue. “Do you remember *anything*? A melody? A phrase? Even the kind of song it was?”

Sevika hesitated, her eyes flicking to you briefly, as if silently debating whether this was worth the vulnerability. Then, slowly, she nodded. “It was... soft. Lullaby-like. And there was something about stars... or light. I don’t know. It’s been a long time.”

James rubbed his chin, his brow furrowing. “Stars, light, lullaby... That narrows it down a little. Did it sound like this?” He moved to a piano in the corner of the room and played a few tentative notes, forming a gentle, wistful melody.

Sevika’s eyes widened ever so slightly, and her breath caught. “That’s close,” she murmured.

James stopped, tilting his head. “Close, huh? Okay, give me a sec.” He began plucking at the keys again, refining the melody as he worked off her faint memory.

You glanced at Sevika, catching the faintest flicker of emotion in her usually guarded expression. “See?” you said softly. “Worth it.”

Her gaze flickered to yours, and for once, she didn’t argue. Instead, she turned back to James, her guarded mask slipping just a little as she waited, hope glimmering faintly in her eyes.

---

The bathysphere descended slowly, the sound of gears and water pressing against the hull filling the otherwise silent capsule. You sat across from Sevika, knees almost brushing in the cramped space.

Neither of you spoke at first, the weight of the trip lingering in the air. Sevika’s expression was unreadable, her gaze fixed on the window where the dim, murky light of the Undercity began to creep back into view.

You busied yourself with your hands, fidgeting absently. Your fingers twisted around each other, tracing over the lines of your palms as you tried to process everything that had happened.

“Thank you,” Sevika said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Your head snapped up, surprised by the softness in her tone. She wasn’t looking at you, though—her eyes remained on the window, her profile lit faintly by the glow of the bathysphere’s controls.

“For what?” you asked, your voice quieter than you intended.

“For... all of it,” she said after a moment. “The music. The trip. Dragging me out of there when I wanted to turn back.”

You nodded slowly, looking back down at your hands. “It’s nothing,” you muttered, though you knew it wasn’t.

“It’s not nothing,” she countered, her voice firm but not unkind. “You didn’t have to do that. But you did.”

You shrugged, your fingers still restless. “Well... I figured it mattered to you. And that’s what friends do, right?”

Her brow furrowed slightly at the word *friends*, like it was something unfamiliar to her. But she didn’t argue. Instead, she leaned back in her seat, her mechanical arm resting on the edge of the capsule, the faint whir of its servos filling the silence.

“I didn’t think I’d ever hear something close to that song again,” she admitted, her voice low.

You looked up at her then, watching the way her shoulders seemed a little less tense, her usual guardedness softened by the memory.

“Well,” you said, offering a small smile, “maybe next time, we can figure out the rest of it. James loves a challenge.”

She huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “Next time. Sure.”

The bathysphere jolted slightly as it approached the docking station. You felt the weight of the Undercity settle around you again, the air growing colder, heavier.

Sevika glanced at you, her expression unreadable again. “You’re alright, you know that?”

You blinked at her, caught off guard by the unexpected compliment. “I try,” you said, your voice soft.

The door to the bathysphere hissed open, let you off.

[sovietpostcards]

Hey! So I'm writing a story that takes place in 1995, the majority of the main cast having grown up during the USSR of course - it's been an excuse to learn more about soviet politics and things like that, but I'm struggling with writing a character who still identifies with the soviets and is bitter about the country falling. What's hard for me with this is trying to understand what sort of sentiments he'd have for the USSR? He's 26 in the year 1995, and his story arch centers around him immigrating to the States for family obligations and how unhappy he is with how much the world has changed around him and all.

Kind of a general not really a question question but lmfao any tips on how I could be fleshing out his politics? He grew up in Leningrad specifically so I'm sure that'd affect the way nostalgia plays into it and all, yeah?

I imagine there was a lot of bitterness about the fall of the USSR in 1995. One thing I can think of, the character would only use Soviet-era names for everything. Many toponyms were changed back to pre-Soviet names after 1991, most notably the name of the city itself (Leningrad / Saint Petersburg) and a lot of street names. I found the list here (see 1991).

Although, to be frank, many people did that then simply out of habit, not political stance. My parents called Nizhny Novgorod 'Gorky' for like 20 years after it was renamed in 1991.

Maybe he could mention the loss of the sense of stability, safety and the omnipresent hope for a bright future. 1990s in Russia were a chaos of lost hopes, new Western products, lack of money, racketeering and price surges.

[ahhnini]

I wish you love - cheater!ex! rafe cameron x reader

pt 2 to better things!

part one / part three

synopsis - rafe has finally moved on, and he wants the best for you.

warnings - drug & alcohol consumption, rafe goes to rehab, happy ending

word count - 745

likes and reblogs are appreciated!

ask box is open!

a/n - from rafe’s perspective! also this is so canon divergent im sorry 😭

divider credits - roseraris on tumblr

he needed you. it was one of those nights again, one of those nights where he’s snorting lines up his nose and drinking himself away at barry’s.

rafe was a coward when it came to you, it was so hard seeing you be so happy with someone who wasn’t him. but at the same time, he was…relived for you? he didn’t know how to describe it, there was a pang in his heart every time he would see you smile, but, there was also some kind of happiness and sense of pride he felt when he would see you so cheerful.

maybe it was the remaining love he had for you in his heart.

his family noticed, of course, he was getting back into his old habits again. they noticed the white powder residue under his nose, him being gone without notice for days on end, and his behavior becoming more aggressive.

ward and rose made the hard decision of sending their own son to rehab. he was too young to be making decisions like this, they thought.

rafe struggled, so many things ran through his mind. the rehab center was away on the mainland. although he had the staff being supportive, guiding him through his problems, he felt more alone than ever.

you heard about rafe being sent to rehab by your mom. rose told her the news during their weekly brunch. you didn’t give her much of a reaction, just nodding your head with a simple hum.

rafe was in rehab for a while, when he was finally discharged, ward was waiting for him. ward had his arms crossed and rafe couldn’t read the expression on his face. he looked out the window as his dad drove them back to the port.

when he got back to the obx, he felt…different. like he didn’t belong there anymore. rafe wasn’t the same person, and the stares he was receiving confirmed that even more. he felt like an outcast, once ruling one side of the island, to turning into a naïve tourist.

the smell of the ocean and salty breeze reminded him of his past, and, you.

he wondered how you were doing, no longer longing for your affection. it was a problem he talked about during intervention, surprised that he opened up about his problems so fast.

when the familiar white paint of tannyhill comes into view, he gets hit with nostalgia. suddenly rafe tenses up, sucking in a deep breath. ward pulls up to the driveway while rafe is hit with memories he’s repressed.

ward helps him unload, carrying his luggage as rafe carries his backpack. they both enter the mansion, ward leaves the luggage in the foyer, mumbling about something while he walks away to his study.

the girls aren’t home, and rafe moves his things back into his bedroom, but he doesn’t want to unpack yet.

he lays down on the bed, which he regrets because a thin layer of dust sweeps up his nose. he coughs and stands back up, dusting the bed.

he decides to dust the other parts of his room, it’s obvious no one has been here since he’s left. as he walks around his room, he can’t help but feel as if he’s at a museum. a museum of his past. he opens the window, letting in the breeze. the birds sing, and the leaves of the trees harmonize with them.

he takes a moment to look out the window, as his mind drifted to you once again.

he loved you, but unfortunately, he had a messed up way of giving you his love. he thought if he could take control of you, use you while you’re broken, he could mend you. mend you so you’d never leave him, mend you so both of your hearts become one.

he sighed, reflecting. he’s come to terms with the fact that he’ll never be with you again.

but he can’t help but wonder what you’re up to.

he hopes your still in a happy relationship, you deserve to be in one. he hopes you’re taking care of yourself, your health and your wellbeing. a part of him still wishes he could be with you, there’s no denying that. a part of him fantasizes about what could have been. he shakes his head, hearing a knock on the door. he takes one last glance out the window, seeing a dove fly out to the ocean.

he’s setting you free.

[nadvs]

Okay I was thinking about a born from wal with the reader and rafe in the future after college maybe married or something with kids like I just want more of them

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

inspired by this ask! continuation blurb from the watch and learn series

Even when you’re arguing, Rafe opens and closes your car door for you. It’s a habit he started back in college after your first date and it stuck.

You step out of the SUV, both wearing scowls and semi-formal clothing, tension thick between you.

Your daughter kept you up last night. You’re both operating on just a few hours of sleep, which definitely contributed to your argument this morning.

You snapped at him about the mess he left in the kitchen, he snapped at you about how the mess wasn’t even a big deal, and since then, you’ve been ignoring each other.

You called him short-tempered. He called you stubborn. The babysitter arrived and the thirty-minute drive to your old college was filled with nothing but silence.

This isn’t how Rafe pictured Sigma Chi’s ten-year reunion. He wanted to bring the you that’s his best friend, not the you that rolls your eyes at him.

Maybe he was a bit harsh this morning. But so were you.

Being back on campus feels already feels a little like a blur, but once you step into the loud, full frat house, you’re disoriented. The nostalgia hits you hard.

Rafe immediately reverts into the loud, charismatic frat boy you fell in love with when he sees his brothers. You thought you’d have to fake your smile, still upset about the fight, but you’re genuinely happy once you’re around everyone again.

You make conversation and even though he’s mad at you, Rafe’s heart feels a little lighter as he watches you smile and chat and laugh with the guys you got to know so well over your college years.

He loves this about you. That you don’t let people see when you’re in a fight.

Sam shouts in greeting when he sees you. He stayed a good friend of Rafe’s after graduation, even coming to your wedding and your daughter’s first birthday party.

“He behaving?” Sam asks you, nudging Rafe.

“When has he ever behaved?” you quip, sharing your first smile with Rafe today.

“Can I steal him?” Sam says.

“Please do,” you tease. Sam laughs and pats Rafe’s back, leading him towards the back of the house to grab drinks.

You stand by the front window alone, looking out at the street, thinking back to how many times you walked up the pathway to the house once Rafe moved in.

Just a few feet away from where you’re standing was where he first propositioned you. I’ll let you practice whatever you want with me was what he said. And damn, did you two practice. You practiced until you fell in love with each other.

“How’s life treating you?” Sam asks Rafe, tapping his beer against his in cheers.

“Toddlers don’t like to sleep, man,” Rafe says. “At least mine doesn’t.”

“Neither did you back in college,” Sam laughs. “I remember seeing you two in the kitchen at four in the morning.”

Rafe chuckles. He remembers that night.

It was right after he moved into the house. You stayed after a party, hooking up in his new room, and ended up talking for hours in bed.

You eventually went downstairs, searching for snacks in the kitchen, whispering and giggling, waking Sam up, who was passed out on the couch.

Rafe had so much fun with you. He still does. Even the mundane shit is fun with you.

He hates that you’re in a fight. It’s stupid to waste time in an argument.

About ten minutes later, Rafe finds you in the living room. He’s holding a plate of food he made from the refreshments this year’s frat had set up.

“I shouldn’t have snapped,” he mumbles, holding the snacks out. Offering you some sort of gift has always been his favorite way to apologize. Well, after make-up sex.

“The mess wasn’t that big of a deal,” you say. All the irritation had left your body now that you’ve had time to cool down and reminisce about everything you’ve been through together. “Sorry.”

“Yeah, you were dramatic,” Rafe jokes. You nudge his shoulder with a gasp, albeit smiling.

“We’re both just tired, I think,” you say.

“You haven’t eaten,” he says, pointing to the plate. You beam at him, taking a bite of the food. You took forever getting ready and didn’t get a chance to eat breakfast.

“I prioritized getting pretty,” you say.

“You’re always pretty. You know you’re a total milf, right?” he mumbles quietly. You laugh and kiss his cheek.

“You hitting on me?”

“Do you even have to ask?” he says with a smirk.

Another frat brother spots Rafe and comes over to make conversation. Others join in slowly, forming a small group.

A few minutes in, Rafe checks his phone instinctually to see if the babysitter has called.

One of his buddies notices his lockscreen. It’s a photo of you asleep with your daughter on the couch, your lips pursed in the same exact way.

“What a softie,” he jokes.

You look at Rafe and laugh as he gazes down at the photo with a smirk.

Ever since the night of the Sadie Hawkins formal, you’ve been his lockscreen photo. At first, it was the Polaroid of you. Then, it was you sitting up in his bed, smiling and wearing his baseball hat and Greek lettered t-shirt. He kept that one for ages. Eventually, it was your wedding photo.

Now, it’s his girls, the two most important people in the world to him.

After the reunion, you get into the car and notice Rafe isn’t turning the key in the ignition. He’s just staring down at the wheel, chest rising and falling slowly.

“I love you, okay, baby?” he says. “I don’t say it enough. But I do.”

“You say it in your own way all the time,” you console him. “You’ve always been more show than tell.”

“Can I show you, then?” he asks, dragging a hand over your thigh.

“Rafe,” you laugh. “Where would we even go?”

He points to the backseat with mischievous blue eyes.

“Been a while,” he says lowly. His voice, his gaze, his touch… He hasn’t lost his charm, even so many years later.

Rafe is thinking the same thing about you.

You lean forward, kissing his lips, smiling at the man you’ve chosen to spend your life with, and tell him to find somewhere to park.