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jupiterpilgrim · 2 days ago

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Drown With Me

Pt.2: Interpolation

Ningning x Minji x Male Reader

word count: 7K

part 1 | part 3

A/n: Pt.2 and pt.3 were supposed to be a single chapter, but it was split in two because of the block limit.

I wish I could be everything you wanted.

—

Oh, here we are again. But this time we're going back in time. We journeyed into the past because some things must be witnessed. And I say 'witnessed,' not 'understood.' For understanding confines the subtleties of human connections to a singular perspective, and that restricts the strange language of the heart.

We're at a bar now, where a lot of stories start. This is one of those:

The lights are dim and amber, casting warm shadows over the polished countertops and the scratched wooden floor. It’s a quiet Tuesday night, a lull between the weekend rush and midweek regulars. You’ve been working here long enough to know the rhythm of it—the predictable ebb and flow of people looking for drinks to drown whatever piece of life was gnawing at them. But then, just as you’re stacking a row of freshly washed glasses, the door swings open, and in walks her again.

She hesitates in the doorway, framed by the cool, blue glow of the streetlights outside. The first thing that grabs you, as it did last night, are her eyes—huge, almond-shaped, and impossibly feline. The kind of eyes that make you forget what you were supposed to be doing. They dart nervously around the room before finally landing on you, and for a moment, she freezes.

“You again,” you say, a smile tugging at your lips. You lean casually against the bar, arms crossed, trying not to seem too eager.

She’s wearing a cropped, black leather jacket that clings to her slender frame, sharp and a little out of place against the pale softness of her features. Beneath it, a white tank top hints at the curve of her collarbone and the toned lines of her stomach. Her high-waisted jeans, faded and torn at the knees, hug her slim legs like they were stitched onto her body. The scuffed Doc Martens on her feet somehow make her look even more striking—an accidental runway model lost in a world of beer stains and neon signs.

Her broad shoulders, almost too strong for her petite height, square up as if she's trying to summon some hidden reserve of confidence. But it’s her shyness, that hint of hesitation in every movement, that makes her feel like a puzzle you want to solve. She brushes a lock of jet-black hair behind her ear, her eyes darting away from yours as though the floor might swallow her whole if she stares for too long.

You tilt your head toward the bar, beckoning her closer. “Second night in a row, huh? You sure you’re not stalking me?”

Her lips part in a soft laugh, so quiet you almost miss it. “Hardly. My friend dragged me here yesterday. Tonight… I just needed some air.”

Her voice is as soft as her laugh, tinged with a slight huskiness that adds depth to her otherwise delicate demeanor. She approaches the bar slowly, her movements careful, like someone who’s always aware of the space she takes up.

“Well,” you say, pulling a coaster from under the counter and setting it down in front of her, “welcome back to the quietest bar in town. What can I get you?”

She perches on the stool, her knees pressed close together, hands tucked into the sleeves of her jacket. “Um…just a Coke, actually.”

“Coke?”

She nods, her eyes flicking up to meet yours, only to dart away again. “I don’t drink much.”

“Second night in a row at a bar and no drinks? You’re full of surprises.” You grab a glass and pour the soda, sliding it toward her. “Not that I’m complaining. Makes my job easier.”

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear again, a nervous habit, you realize, but it only adds to the quiet allure of her presence. “You work here often?”

“Most nights.” You lean against the bar again, giving her your best casual smile. “And you? What’s your excuse for gracing us with your presence twice in a row?”

“I’m…” She hesitates, then shrugs. “I guess I just liked the vibe. It’s not like other places.”

“It’s not like most places because most places actually get customers,” you joke, gesturing to the mostly empty room. “But hey, if the vibe brought you back, I’m not going to argue.”

She smiles, faint but genuine. “It’s nice. Quiet. Less… intimidating.”

“Intimidating?” You raise an eyebrow, genuinely curious.

She fidgets with the straw in her glass, swirling the Coke absently. “Bars aren’t really my thing. Too loud, too crowded. I usually avoid them.” She glances up at you, almost shyly. “This one feels… different.”

You don’t miss the slight blush that creeps up her neck as she speaks, and something about it tugs at you. “Different’s good,” you say softly. “I like different.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The faint hum of the jukebox in the corner fills the silence, playing some slow, melancholic track that perfectly matches the mood. You watch as she takes a small sip of her drink, her lashes casting long shadows over her cheeks.

“So,” you finally ask, breaking the quiet, “what’s your name? Or should I just keep calling you ‘Coke Girl’?”

Her lips twitch into a smile again, a little more confident this time. “Ning Yìzhuo. And you?”

“Coke Boy,” you deadpan, earning a small laugh from her. “Kidding. It’s—”

The door swings open again, cutting you off as a group of rowdy patrons stumbles in, disrupting the peaceful bubble you’d been sharing. Ningning’s shoulders tense immediately, her fingers tightening around her glass. You can tell she’s debating whether to stay or bolt.

You lean closer, your voice low. “Don’t worry. They’re harmless. Plus, I’ve got your back.”

She looks at you, her eyes searching your face for something—reassurance, maybe. And whatever she finds there seems to calm her, if only a little. She nods, taking another sip of her Coke.

You don’t know why, but you can already tell she’s going to stay with you longer than just tonight. Something about her feels significant, like a spark of lightning caught in a jar. Quiet, shy, and utterly captivating.

—

The weeks bleed into one another, and before you know it, Ning is a fixture at the bar. Not officially, of course. She doesn’t work here, doesn’t drink much, and always leaves by midnight like Cinderella with a self-imposed curfew. But she’s here. Three nights a week, like clockwork, perching on her usual stool and ordering her usual Coke, sometimes daring to live dangerously with a Sprite.

At first, you thought she came because it was quiet, because she needed a place to escape whatever stresses her life held. But it’s become increasingly clear that the bar’s charm isn’t the only thing pulling her back. It’s you. And you’re not mad about it.

Tonight, she’s dressed like she always is—effortlessly cool in her slightly oversized sweater, rolled-up jeans, and her beat-up Doc Martens. Her leather jacket is slung over the back of the stool, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders like ink. She’s got her sketchbook with her tonight, the same one she’s been carrying for weeks. You’ve seen glimpses of the drawings—sketches of people, abstract swirls, the occasional cat—but she guards it like it contains state secrets, never letting you get a proper look.

“What are you working on this time?” you ask, leaning on the counter with the practiced nonchalance of a bartender-slash-business-student who definitely isn’t secretly invested in whatever she’s drawing.

She glances up from her page, cat-like eyes sparkling under the warm glow of the bar’s lights. “Nothing special. Just doodling.”

“That’s what you said last time,” you point out, reaching for a clean glass to wipe down. “And then you showed me that sketch of that old guy in the corner, and it looked like something out of a museum. You can admit it, Ning—you’re talented.”

She ducks her head, a faint blush creeping up her neck. “It’s not that good.”

“Sure,” you deadpan, “and I’m not the best bartender in this city.”

She laughs—a soft, melodic sound that you’ve started to look forward to more than you’d like to admit. “You’re not even the best bartender in this bar.”

You feign offense, clutching your chest. “Ouch. And here I thought we were friends.”

“We are friends,” she says, smiling up at you. “Which is why I’m honest with you.”

“Brutally honest,” you correct, smirking. “Fine. Tell me this: do all fine arts students have this much sass, or are you just special?”

“Special,” she says, sticking her tongue out. “And for the record, it’s not fine arts. It’s animation and visual effects. Totally different.”

You nod sagely, as if you know the first thing about animation or visual effects. “Ah, of course. Animation. You’re going to make the next Toy Story, right?”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s grinning. “Something like that. What about you, Mr. Future CEO? Made any spreadsheets cry lately?”

“Every day,” you reply solemnly. “It’s part of the curriculum in business administration. They don’t let you graduate until you’ve traumatized at least three Excel files.”

Her laugh comes easily, her shoulders relaxing as she sips her Coke. She looks comfortable here now, like this place—and you—have become a safe haven for her.

It’s nice.

She’s nice.

“You know,” you say, setting the glass down and leaning closer, “when you first started coming here, I thought you were just using the bar as a library with worse lighting.”

She raises an eyebrow. “And now?”

“Now I think you’re here because you can’t resist my charm.”

She snorts into her drink, nearly choking. “Your charm? Please.”

“Hey, admit it. I make this place bearable for you.”

She tilts her head, pretending to consider. “You do make pretty good jokes.”

“High praise from the queen of sarcasm.”

Her smile softens slightly, the teasing edge in her voice fading. “I just like talking to you. You make things… lighter. Easier to deal with.”

You don’t know what to say to that. It’s rare for her to let her guard down like this, and you feel a sudden, inexplicable urge to keep it safe, to make sure she never regrets being vulnerable.

“Well,” you say, keeping your tone light, “as long as you keep coming back, I’ll keep telling terrible jokes. Deal?”

“Deal,” she says, holding out her hand like you’re signing a legally binding contract.

You shake her hand, her skin warm and soft against yours. There’s a moment—a brief, fleeting moment—where the noise of the bar fades away, and it’s just the two of you. Friends. Companions in this odd little corner of the world.

“By the way,” you add, breaking the moment, “if you ever need a businessperson in one of your animations, I know a guy.”

“Let me guess,” she says, smirking. “He’s incredibly charming and makes terrible jokes?”

“Exactly.”

She laughs again, and for the rest of the night, the bar feels a little brighter.

—

Ning sits cross-legged on her bed, a pencil tucked behind her ear and her sketchbook balanced on her knees. The room is bathed in soft, golden light from the desk lamp Minji insisted on buying, claiming it was better for productivity. Across the room, Minji herself sits at her desk, perfectly upright, fingers flying across the keyboard of her sleek laptop. She looks like a Vogue spread come to life, even in her oversized knit sweater and black leggings, her shiny, straight hair falling effortlessly over her shoulder.

Minji’s skin practically glows, the kind of flawless complexion that makes you wonder if she’s secretly Photoshopped in real life. Her glasses—a stylish, rectangular pair with gold rims—rest perfectly on the bridge of her pointy nose, framing dark, intelligent eyes that seem to miss nothing. Her lips, soft and plump, are painted a subtle pink, just enough to look effortlessly put together. She’s everything Ning isn’t: confident, composed, intimidatingly perfect.

Ning chews on her pencil, staring at her friend’s back. “Hey, Minji?”

“Hm?” Minji doesn’t look up from her screen. She’s probably working on some group project for her international business course. Even in her downtime, Minji is an efficiency machine.

“How do you, like…” Ning hesitates, fiddling with the corner of her sketchbook. “How do you get guys to notice you?”

That gets Minji’s attention. She swivels her chair around, fixing Ning with a look that’s equal parts amused and curious. “What kind of question is that?”

“You know what I mean,” Ning mumbles, heat rising to her cheeks. “You always have a line of guys chasing after you. It’s like… you just exist, and they’re obsessed with you.”

Minji raises an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair. “It’s not like I’m trying to get their attention.”

“That’s exactly my point!” Ning groans, flopping backward onto her bed. “You don’t even try, and they’re all over you. Meanwhile, I could walk into a room naked, and no one would notice.”

“First of all, don’t do that,” Minji says dryly, folding her arms. “Second, you’re exaggerating.”

“I’m really not,” Ning mutters, staring at the ceiling. “You’re like this goddess of elegance or whatever, and I’m just… me. How do you make people like you?”

Minji sighs, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose in that annoyingly perfect way she does. “It’s not about making people like you, Ning. You just have to be yourself.”

Ning sits up, frowning. “That’s so easy for you to say. You’re perfect. People like you without you even trying.”

“I’m not perfect,” Minji says, though the way she says it makes it clear she knows she’s pretty close.

Ning snorts. “Please. You’re gorgeous, you’re smart, you’re the only person I know who actually looks good in those glasses. And don’t get me started on your ‘I just woke up like this’ hair.”

Minji chuckles softly, a sound that somehow feels condescending and comforting at the same time. “Okay, fine. Maybe I have some good qualities. But seriously, Ning, if you want people to notice you, just… put yourself out there.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not shy,” Ning mutters, pulling her knees to her chest.

Minji leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Shy people are fine, but if you never let anyone see who you really are, how are they supposed to notice you?”

“What if who I really am is… shy?” Ning asks, her voice small.

“Then be the best version of shy,” Minji says simply. “Confidence doesn’t mean being loud or outgoing. It just means being comfortable with who you are. People are drawn to that.”

Ning stares at her, skeptical. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not,” Minji admits, brushing a stray hair behind her ear. “But if you don’t at least try, nothing’s going to change. And trust me, you don’t need to change who you are. You just need to stop hiding it.”

Ning chews on her lip, mulling that over. Minji makes it sound logical, like a formula to be solved. But Ning isn’t sure she can simply flip a switch and become “the best version” of herself.

“And if it doesn’t work?” she asks.

Minji shrugs, her lips curling into a faint smile. “Then it’s their loss.”

Ning laughs despite herself, the tension in her chest loosening just a bit. “You’re annoyingly good at this, you know that?”

Minji smirks, turning back to her laptop. “I know. Now stop overthinking and start being fabulous. You’ve got this, Ning.”

Ning watches her friend for a moment longer, a mixture of admiration and frustration swirling in her chest. If Minji says she can do it, maybe she can. But it still feels like an impossible climb.

“Hey, Minji?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

Minji doesn’t turn around, but her voice is warm. “Anytime.”

—

The door to the bar swings open, and in walks Ning with a determined look in her cat-like eyes. She’s wearing a fitted white crop top that shows just a hint of her toned stomach, a plaid mini skirt, and her signature scuffed Doc Martens. Her hair is loose, cascading over her shoulders in soft waves, and there’s a hint of pink gloss on her lips. Tonight, she’s decided, is the night.

No more shy, stammering Ning. Tonight, she’s confident, bold, maybe even flirty. She’s spent the past three days psyching herself up for this moment, replaying Minji’s advice in her head like a mantra. Put yourself out there. Be the best version of yourself. You’ve got this.

The bar is warm and dimly lit as always, the low hum of conversation filling the air. She spots you cleaning a table, laughing at something one of the regulars said, your easy charm on full display. You see Ning and wave to her with a smile. Her heart skips a beat, but she steels herself. You’ve got this, she repeats silently, striding toward the bar.

Or at least, she tries to.

What she doesn’t see, in her single-minded determination, is the bright yellow Wet Floor sign in the middle of the room. Her Doc Martens hit the slick patch of tiles, and suddenly, her confident stride turns into a cartoonish flail.

“Shit—!”

She feels herself going down, her arms pinwheeling as gravity takes over. But just before she hits the ground, a pair of strong hands catch her, one gripping her waist and the other cradling her back.

“You okay?” Your voice is close—too close—and when she blinks up at you, she realizes her face is just inches from yours.

Her heart is pounding, and not just from the near-death experience. Your eyes, warm and concerned, lock onto hers, and she can feel the heat rising in her cheeks. “I—yeah, I’m okay. Thanks.” Her voice comes out quieter than she’d like, all the confidence she’d mustered evaporating on the spot.

You grin, helping her stand upright but keeping a hand on her arm to steady her. “That was a close one. You almost went full slapstick there.”

“Yeah, well, I like to keep things entertaining,” she mumbles, avoiding your gaze. Her ankle twinges as she shifts her weight, and she winces.

“You sure you’re okay?” you ask, noticing the way she’s favoring one foot.

“It’s just my ankle,” she admits. “I think I twisted it a little.”

“Let’s get you off your feet,” you say, guiding her to a booth in the corner. “Come on, sit down.”

“I’m fine, really,” she protests, but you’re already pulling out a chair for her.

Once she’s seated, you crouch down in front of her, gently taking her foot in your hands. “Let me check it out. I can’t have my best customer suing the bar.”

She snorts softly, despite herself. “It’s my fault for not seeing the sign.”

“Well, next time, try looking where you’re going,” you tease, flashing her a grin that makes her heart skip again.

You slide off her boot carefully, your fingers brushing against her ankle. She tries not to shiver at the touch, but it’s impossible. Your hands are warm and firm, and when you start to massage the sore spot, she has to bite her lip to keep from making an embarrassing sound.

“You’re really good at this,” she says, her voice coming out a little breathier than she intended.

“Comes with practice,” you reply, focused on her foot. “My ex used to come home from work with sore feet all the time, so I’d give her massages. Got pretty good at it after a while.”

Ning’s ears perk up at the mention of your ex. “Oh?” she says, trying to sound casual. “What happened there?”

“She was… complicated,” you say, choosing your words carefully. “Kind of jealous. Possessive. A little manic, honestly.” You pause, then chuckle, shaking your head. “I guess I have a type. Crazy girls seem to find me.”

She swallows hard, caught off guard. “Is that why you’re single now?”

“Pretty much,” you admit, still massaging her ankle. “Taking a break from relationships for a while. Thought I’d give myself some peace and quiet, you know?”

Ning’s heart sinks, though she forces a smile. “Makes sense. Less drama.”

“Exactly,” you say, glancing up at her with a grin. “And besides, who needs a girlfriend when I’ve got customers like you to keep me company?”

She laughs softly, but it feels hollow in her chest. She watches as you go back to massaging her foot, completely unaware of the tiny heartbreak you’ve just caused. But she doesn’t say anything.

Because Minji’s words echo in her head: Be the best version of yourself. And tonight, the best version of herself is just a good friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

��

The dorm bathroom is small, humid, and filled with the faint scent of citrus-scented body wash. The door is open, so the fragrance invades the whole bedroom. The overhead light flickers faintly, casting a soft glow over the scene. Minji stands by the sink in nothing but a pale lavender bra and matching underwear, her skin luminous under the harsh fluorescent light. She’s methodically applying lotion to her arms, her long, straight hair pushed over one shoulder to avoid smearing it. Every movement she makes is precise, deliberate, like everything else about her.

Ning is by the closet, half-dressed, rifling through her limited wardrobe with a furrowed brow. She’s wearing an oversized graphic tee that hangs off one shoulder, exposing the curve of her collarbone and the straps of her bralette. Her plaid pajama shorts are crumpled, a stark contrast to Minji’s immaculate appearance.

“Can I ask you something?” Minji’s voice cuts through the quiet hum of the room, soft but with that unmistakable edge of curiosity.

Ning freezes, her fingers lingering on the hem of a black skirt she’s debating on. “Uh, sure. What’s up?”

Minji finishes with her arms and moves on to her legs, bending one knee and propping her foot up on the closed toilet lid. Her movements are unhurried, as if the question isn’t a big deal. “Where do you go every week? At night, I mean.”

She glances over her shoulder, her face warming under Minji’s unreadable gaze. “Nowhere. Just… out.”

“Nowhere?” Minji’s lips curve in a faint smile as she straightens up, tilting her head slightly. Her sharp, dark eyes scan Ning, taking in the flush on her cheeks, the way her fingers fidget with the fabric of her skirt. “That doesn’t sound like nowhere.”

“I mean it’s not anywhere in particular,” Ning mumbles, turning back to the closet. She grabs a random top to busy her hands, hoping Minji will let it go.

But Minji doesn’t let things go. “Ning,” she says, her voice calm but insistent. “You’ve been going out at least twice a week for the past month. You get dressed up, come back late, and you never say where you’ve been. It’s weird, because it's not something you used to do.”

Ning turns around, clutching the top against her chest like a shield. “It’s not weird.”

Minji quirks an eyebrow, her lips twitching as if she’s holding back a laugh. “You don’t think so? Because to me, it looks like you’re sneaking off to see someone.”

“I’m not!” Ning’s voice rises slightly in protest, her face turning a deeper shade of pink. She tosses the top onto the bed and grabs her sketchbook from the desk. “Look, I take this with me, okay? How could I be seeing a boy if I’m bringing this?”

Minji’s eyes drop to the sketchbook, then lift back to Ning’s face, skeptical but intrigued. “I don’t know. Art students have strange habits. Maybe you’re sketching him while you’re there.”

Ning groans, plopping onto the bed and flipping the sketchbook open to a random page. “It’s not like that. There’s a bar I go to. It’s… quiet, and it helps with creativity.”

“Creativity,” Minji repeats, crossing her arms as she leans against the sink. Her hair falls perfectly over one shoulder, her glasses catching the light just enough to make her look like a chic librarian. “That’s your story?”

“Yes!” Ning huffs, holding up the sketchbook like it’s evidence in a trial. “See? Just sketches. No boys, no dates, nothing like that.”

Minji steps closer, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studies Ning’s face. “So you’re telling me you sit at a bar all night, alone, with your sketchbook? That’s it?”

“Well…” Ning hesitates, her fingers gripping the edges of the book. “There’s this bartender I talk to sometimes. But he’s just a friend.”

“A friend.” Minji’s voice is flat, but there’s a glint of amusement in her eyes. “What’s his name?”

“Does it matter?” Ning mutters, ducking her head.

“Probably not,” Minji replies, her tone maddeningly casual. “But now everything is even more suspicious.”

Ning sighs, flipping the sketchbook closed. “Oh, whatever! He’s the bartender. We talk. That’s it.”

“And you’re just friends?”

“Yes.” Ning’s voice is firm, but her cheeks betray her with their telltale blush.

Minji watches her for a moment longer, then does something that catches Ning completely off guard. She smiles. Not her usual poised, mysterious smile, but something softer.

“Can I go too?”

Ning blinks, sure she’s misheard. “What?”

“To the bar,” Minji says, stepping closer until she’s standing right in front of Ning. “If it’s so great for creativity, I want to see it.”

“You want to go to the bar?” Ning asks, her voice incredulous. “The one I go to?”

“Why not?” Minji shrugs, grabbing her towel and tossing it into the laundry basket. “It’s not a date, right? If you’re just hanging out with a friend, I don’t see why I can’t come along.”

Ning stares at her, unsure whether to laugh or panic. “Are you serious?”

Minji leans down slightly, her glasses sliding down her nose as she meets Ning’s wide-eyed gaze. “Dead serious.”

“But…” Ning struggles to find a reason, any reason, why this is a terrible idea. “What about your coursework? You’re always busy.”

Minji straightens up, brushing her hair over her shoulder with practiced ease. “I can spare a night. Besides,” she adds, smirking, “I want to meet this ‘just a friend’ of yours.”

Minji’s calm confidence is both reassuring and terrifying. She knows Minji means well, but she also knows her friend. Minji doesn’t just show up. She observes.

Still, it’s hard to say no when Minji looks at her like that, her dark eyes steady and full of quiet determination.

“Okay,” Ning says finally. “You can come.”

Minji smiles, a triumphant glint in her eye. “Great. I’ll get ready.”

As Minji walks away, Ning flops back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. This was supposed to be simple. Just her, the bar, and a chance to take things slow with you.

Now?

She has no idea what’s about to happen.

—

The bar’s hum is steady but quiet tonight, soft music playing from the jukebox, mingling with the low murmur of scattered conversations. You’re behind the counter, wiping down glasses and vaguely thinking about the economics lecture you skipped today when the door swings open.

You look up instinctively, and there she is—Ning. Except she’s not alone.

Ning walks in first, a bundle of energy in her casual but cool outfit: a cropped black sweater that shows just a hint of her toned stomach, paired with loose cargo pants that sit snug on her hips, and her ever-present Doc Martens. She looks great—like she always does—but it’s the girl walking in behind her that makes your breath catch.

Minji.

She’s dressed simply—an elegant cream blouse tucked into high-waisted, dark-wash jeans that make her legs look impossibly long. Her black hair falls in a sleek curtain down her back, and she’s wearing the kind of gold-rimmed glasses that make other people look like try-hards but somehow make her look even more stunning. There’s something about her presence—poised but approachable, with a quiet confidence that fills the room—that makes it hard to look away.

“Hey!” Ning’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts as she practically bounces over to the counter. She gestures enthusiastically toward her companion. “This is my best friend, Minji. You’ll love her.”

You recover quickly, setting the glass down and offering a smile. “Hey, Minji. Nice to meet you.”

Minji steps forward, her smile polite but warm. “Nice to meet you too. Ning comes here every week, I got curious and realized I needed to see it myself.”

You nod, trying not to seem too obvious as you take her in. “Well, welcome. Hope it lives up to the hype.”

Ning slides onto her usual stool, pulling out her sketchbook like it’s just another normal night. “He’s being modest. It’s the coolest place ever. And the bartender’s alright, I guess.”

You smirk at her teasing but find yourself glancing back at Minji. “What can I get you two?”

“The usual for me,” Ning says, flipping through the pages of her sketchbook.

“And for you?” you ask Minji.

She tilts her head slightly, considering. “Something light. I don’t drink much—health reasons.”

“Got it.” You start preparing the drinks, glancing at her again. “If you don’t mind me asking, health reasons?”

Ning's Coke is ready in moments, she takes a sip absentmindedly as she looks at her sketchbook.

“I have a heart condition,” she says casually, like she’s used to explaining it. “Nothing too serious, but I can’t really handle strong drinks.”

“Fair enough,” you say, sliding the glass across the counter toward her. “This should be light enough.”

She takes a sip, her lips curving into a small smile. “Perfect. Thanks.”

Ning, who’s been scribbling something in her sketchbook, looks up suddenly. “Minji has been really nosy lately, she wouldn't leave me alone until I brought her here, she's never done this before.”

“Oh yeah?” you say, raising an eyebrow at Minji. “Was she really that mysterious about it?”

Minji laughs softly, setting her drink down. “You have no idea. She’d leave without saying much, come back late, and when I’d ask where she was, she’d just shrug and say ‘out.’” She glances at Ning, her tone amused. “It was suspicious.”

Ning groans dramatically. “It wasn’t suspicious! I just didn’t feel like explaining.”

“Well, I’m glad you brought her along tonight,” you say, smiling at Minji. “It’s nice to meet one of Ning’s friends.”

“Best friend,” Ning corrects, nudging Minji with her elbow. “We’ve known each other forever.”

Minji chuckles. “She’s exaggerating. It’s only been a few years. But yeah, we’ve been through a lot together.”

You lean against the counter, genuinely curious. “How’d you two meet?”

“Orientation,” Minji says, glancing at Ning.

“At first I thought she was snobbish for being so serious."

“And I thought you looked like a troublemaker,” Minji counters, her eyes sparkling with humor.

You can’t help but laugh at their banter. “So, Minji, what are you studying?”

“International business,” she says, adjusting her glasses slightly. “What about you?”

“Business administration,” you reply, and her face lights up with interest.

“Oh, really? That’s great. What year are you in?”

“Third,” you say. “It’s not as glamorous as international business, but it keeps me busy.”

“It’s not glamorous,” Minji says with a small smile. “But it’s practical. And honestly, that’s more important.”

You nod, impressed by her straightforwardness. “So what made you choose international business?”

She takes another sip of her drink, her expression thoughtful. “I guess I like the idea of understanding how things work on a global scale. It’s a challenge, but I enjoy it.”

Ning, who’s been quiet for a moment, suddenly speaks up. “She’s being humble. She’s the smartest person I know. She even helps me figure out my art projects sometimes.”

Minji shrugs, clearly a little embarrassed. “I just give her feedback. She’s the real talent.”

You glance at Ning, your curiosity piqued. “What kind of feedback?”

“She helps me refine ideas,” Ning says, twirling her pencil. “Like, if I’m stuck on a concept, she’ll point out things I didn’t think of. It’s annoying how good she is at it.”

Minji rolls her eyes, but there’s a hint of affection in her expression. “It’s not that hard. I just have an outside perspective.”

“Well, it sounds like you two make a good team,” you say, genuinely impressed by their dynamic.

Minji smiles, her gaze lingering on you for a second longer than you expect. “We do. But I think I understand why Ning likes coming here now. It’s… nice.”

“Yeah,” Ning chimes in, her voice a little softer. “It is.”

The three of you fall into an easy rhythm after that, talking and laughing like old friends. But every now and then, you catch yourself glancing at Minji, wondering what it is about her that feels so… magnetic.

—

The bar has never been livelier for you, not because of an influx of customers but because Ning and Minji have made it their unofficial hangout spot. At first, it was a bit surreal—Ning showing up with her best friend in tow, bright-eyed and eager to introduce her to her favorite bartender. But over the next few weeks, it becomes routine.

Monday Night

Ning and Minji arrive together, as they always do. Ning’s dressed in her usual casual style—cropped sweatshirt, ripped jeans, and her trusty Doc Martens—while Minji looks effortlessly polished in a tailored blazer over a white camisole and straight-leg pants.

“Usual?” you ask Ning, already reaching for the soda gun.

“Of course,” she says, hopping onto her usual stool.

“And for you?” you ask Minji.

“I’ll take the same thing as last time,” she says, her smile easy. “That drink was great.”

You get to work, sliding the Coke over to Ning and preparing Minji’s light cocktail. “So, how’s the week been treating you two?”

“Terrible,” Ning groans dramatically, opening her sketchbook. “I’m behind on like, three projects.”

Minji snorts, glancing at Ning over the rim of her glass. “That’s because you spent the entire weekend rewatching Spirited Away instead of working.”

“It was research!” Ning protests, flipping through her sketches. “It’s a masterpiece!”

You chuckle, leaning on the bar. “She’s got a point. Spirited Away is definitely worth rewatching.”

Minji raises an eyebrow. “I don’t disagree. But maybe she could balance her research with her deadlines.”

The two of you share a laugh, and Ning pouts.

“You’re both nerds,” she mutters, earning a grin from you.

“Guilty as charged,” you say, raising a random glass in a mock toast.

Wednesday Night

Tonight, Minji’s in a soft blue sweater that matches her dark-rimmed glasses, her hair swept back in a loose braid. Ning looks a little tired, probably from pulling an all-nighter.

“You look like death,” Minji observes bluntly as they sit down.

“Gee, thanks,” Ning says, dropping onto the stool and slumping over the counter.

“You okay?” you ask, sliding her a Coke without waiting for her order.

“Just tired,” Ning mumbles, sipping her drink.

Minji tilts her head at you. “So, did you finish that econ paper you mentioned last time?”

You perk up, surprised she remembered. “Yeah, just barely. Turns out writing about financial markets at two in the morning isn’t fun.”

“I could’ve told you that,” Minji says, her lips curving into a small smile. “But I bet you still nailed it.”

Ning watches the exchange, feeling a pang of something she can’t quite name. She clears her throat. “Hey, can we talk about something not boring?”

“Sure,” you say, turning to her. “What’s on your mind?”

“Aliens,” Ning declares, grinning. “Do you think they exist?”

Minji sighs. “Oh god, not this again.”

You laugh, genuinely amused. “Honestly? I hope so. Would make the universe a lot more interesting.”

Ning beams, satisfied, while Minji shakes her head. “This is why she likes coming here,” Minji says dryly. “You encourage her nonsense.”

“Hey,” you protest, “it’s not nonsense. It’s curiosity.”

Minji chuckles, and Ning feels a little less out of place.

Friday Night

The bar is slightly busier, but the two of them still manage to snag their usual seats. Minji looks radiant in a sleek black blouse and gold hoop earrings, her makeup subtle but flawless. Ning, in her oversized hoodie and her Doc Martens looks comfortable but feels distinctly underdressed next to her friend.

“You look nice tonight,” you say to Minji as you hand her drink over.

“Thanks,” she replies, her voice calm and self-assured. “Ning practically dragged me out of the dorm, so I figured I’d make an effort.”

“You’re welcome,” Ning says with mock pride.

“So,” Minji says, turning to you, “tell me more about your business classes. Do you focus on entrepreneurship or management?”

“A little of both,” you reply, leaning on the counter. “Right now, we’re working on case studies about startups.”

“Oh, I love those,” Minji says, her eyes lighting up. “Which case studies are you doing?”

As you dive into the topic, Ning finds herself zoning out. The conversation is engaging—Minji is clearly knowledgeable, and you seem genuinely interested in what she has to say—but it’s not her world. She fiddles with her straw, feeling invisible as the two of you talk animatedly about market trends and business strategies.

Eventually, she clears her throat. “Hey, do you think they’d let me draw on the walls here?”

Both of you turn to her, surprised.

“I mean, this place could use some art,” she says, grinning.

“Go for it,” you say, laughing. “Just don’t tell my boss I approved it.”

Minji chuckles softly, shaking her head. “You’re hopeless.”

“Hopelessly creative,” Ning corrects, feeling a little more grounded again.

Sunday Night

The bar is nearly empty, the quiet hum of the jukebox filling the space. Ning is doodling absently in her sketchbook, while Minji sips her drink and chats with you.

“So, what do you do for fun?” Minji asks, her tone light but genuinely curious.

“Work, mostly,” you admit. “But when I have time, I like hiking. Clears my head.”

“I didn’t peg you as the outdoorsy type,” she says, a hint of teasing in her voice.

You shrug. “Gotta balance all the business talk with something peaceful.”

Ning glances up from her sketchbook, watching the two of you. There’s something about the way Minji leans slightly forward when she talks to you, the way her smile lingers a little longer.

“Do you hike?” you ask Minji.

“Sometimes,” she says. “But only when Ning drags me along.”

“Hey, I make hiking fun,” Ning protests, jumping back into the conversation.

“You complain the whole time,” Minji points out, smirking.

“Because you always pick the hardest trails!”

You laugh, the sound warm and genuine. “I’d pay to see that.”

“Next time, you’re coming with us,” Minji says.

Ning blinks, caught off guard by the suggestion. She glances between you and Minji, unsure how to feel about the way this strange triangle is starting to form.

As the night winds down, the three of you settle into a comfortable rhythm, but Ning can’t shake the feeling that something is shifting—slowly, subtly, but undeniably.

—

The three of you have fallen into a strange, unspoken routine—meeting up not just at the bar but beyond it, like some evolving trio of mismatched energy. It feels natural, at least on the surface, even if Ning occasionally finds herself analyzing every interaction, dissecting every glance and laugh.

Tonight, you’re at the movies, sitting in a darkened theater. Ning insisted on watching the latest animated film, claiming it was "research" for her art, though the truth is she just really loves animated movies. You and Minji went along with it, no complaints. Ning sits between you and Minji, a giant bucket of popcorn balanced precariously on her lap.

Halfway through the movie, she notices how Minji leans slightly toward you, sharing whispered comments about the plot. Ning can’t quite hear what you’re saying, but the low rumble of your laugh makes her feel strangely uncomfortable.

“Pass the popcorn,” you murmur, your hand brushing Ning’s as you reach for the bucket.

She stiffens slightly, then relaxes. “Here. Don’t eat all the good pieces.”

“You’re weirdly protective of popcorn,” you tease, taking a handful.

“Popcorn hierarchy is a real thing,” she replies, smirking. But her voice sounds hollow to her own ears.

Minji chuckles, leaning closer. “She’s serious about it. She once bit my hand when I took the last caramel piece.”

“I did not bite you!” Ning protests, her cheeks flushing.

Minji glances at you, her smile lingering. “She absolutely did.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I believe it.”

The sound of your laugh sends a pang through Ning’s chest. She knows it’s stupid, knows she’s overthinking. But the way you and Minji interact—effortless, like equals—feels different.

Later That Week

The three of you are at a college basketball game, seated in the bleachers. It was your idea this time, a way to do something “normal and fun” after a week of classes. Ning, determined to feel confident, showed up in a cropped tank top and tight jeans, her makeup more pronounced than usual.

But as the game goes on, she notices the subtle ways you treat her. When she trips on the bleachers, you catch her arm, laughing softly. “Careful, kid. Don’t want you breaking something.”

“Kid?” she echoes, raising an eyebrow. “I’m literally an adult.”

“Barely,” you tease, ruffling her hair in a way that makes her want to scream.

Meanwhile, when Minji leans over to ask you something, your tone shifts. It’s subtle, but Ning catches it. You’re attentive, leaning slightly closer, your voice quieter. When Minji laughs at something you say, it’s like the whole world fades out for a second, leaving just the two of you.

Ning fiddles with her phone, pretending not to notice.

At one point, Minji turns to her. “Hey, are you okay? You’ve been really quiet.”

“I’m fine,” Ning says quickly, forcing a smile. “Just… not a huge basketball fan.”

Minji studies her for a moment but doesn’t press. She turns back to you, asking something about the game. Ning doesn’t bother listening.

The Bar, One Week Later

It’s a typical slow night, the kind you’ve come to expect when it’s not the weekend. You’re behind the counter, wiping down glasses and occasionally glancing at the door out of habit. When it swings open, you look up, expecting to see Ning and Minji together as usual.

But it’s just Minji.

She steps inside, her presence as poised as ever. She’s wearing a fitted black turtleneck and a sleek gray coat, her hair tucked neatly behind her ears. There’s a calm confidence in the way she walks, like she owns the space without even trying.

“Hey,” you say, smiling as she approaches the bar. “Where’s Ning?”

“She’s sick,” Minji replies, sliding onto one of the stools. “It’s just me tonight.”

There's a hint of excitement in her voice, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. The absence of Ning—her usual energy, her playful remarks—feels strange. But Minji’s presence is undeniable, grounding.

“Just you,” you repeat, setting a glass on the counter. “Alright. What can I get you?”

Minji smiles, a small, knowing curve of her lips. “Surprise me.”

part 3

#minji smut #kim minji #minji x reader #minji newjeans #Minji new jeans smut #ningning smut #ningning aespa #ning yizhuo smut #ningning x reader #aespa ningning smut #aespa ning yizhuo #newjeans minji #kpop m!reader #kpop male oc #kpop male reader #kpop smut #m!reader

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smolbeanie1221 · 20 hours ago

Photo

I’m lucky enough to live in one of the light blue states, and I have family and a friend in one of the dark blue states. But I have no idea where things are going, how long my state will be relatively safe and I’ll be able to access things for transitioning when I start. I’ve already decided that if things go bad in my state, I’m moving to the dark blue state where I have family and a friend. My friend and I had jokingly over the summer talked about if I moved back there, we could get an apartment together. So I have a rough back up plan in place if needed.

But this map makes me so sad and angry to look at. I have family in Florida that I want to go see this spring, and I know I still look like my agab, so I know I wouldn’t have to worry about people freaking out that I’m trans or something. But I still don’t want to go to Florida simply because I know how bad it is there for queer people and I’m worried that there’s a small chance, I’ll just give off too much of a queer vibe to someone, or something like that happening. I don’t think it would happen, for once the fact I haven’t started transitioning yet is good. But still… it’s just so exhausting to think about.

I still remember about a year ago when I worked retail, at least every other week a customer would say “you’d be great working as x job,” and the one time a customer said “you’d be great working at Disney!” And I just paused and tried to give them a funny smile but I probably looked like I was kinda grimacing and I said “probably… but I wouldn’t be safe in Florida…” I can’t remember if I said that exactly, but that was the gist of it. I can’t remember how the customer replied, but after that conversation, I remember being stunned. I, a young American citizen, had a fear based response to the idea of working somewhere in the state of Florida, I knew it was a simple fact that I would not be safe living in that state. And I was thinking about how fucked up it was that my immediate reaction to the customer’s comment couldn’t have been, oh that sounds like fun! or anything along those lines, but instead my reaction was, fuck no I couldn’t live there because I wouldn’t be safe.

I know obviously no country is perfect, plenty of people across the world live in dangerous places, and I know that’s true in America too. But that was the first time I experienced that feeling, and it almost felt magnified because America is so often praised by its citizens as being the best place in the world to live, all men are equal, protections for minorities, etc. And yet here I was, in America, the country I was born in and raised with those same thoughts, vividly experiencing the complete opposite thing from what I should’ve been able to.

Anyways just where my thoughts took me when I saw the map this time, especially now that person is in office (I don’t even want to say his name) and I’m scared things will get so much worse all over the country.

Adult Transgender Legislative Risk Map, November 2024

#smol bean rambles #smol bean thoughts #smol bean rambles queer things #smol bean rambles trans things #trans stuff #lgbt #trans #transgender things #transgender

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jadeshifting · 2 days ago

Text

— SCRIPTING YOUR FAMILY. ( i swear it can work even if they’re not dead )

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— DISCLAIMER. script what you want !! this isn’t judgement or an attempt to convince you of anything. i still have ded family in some realities, don’t worry :^)

alright, so a lot of shifters skip right to scripting their DR families straight into the afterlife. gone, nonexistent, dead and buried. this is for a myriad of reasons, though for me and everyone i know, it has a lot to do with backstory, or the idea that family ties are going to cramp our style or get in the way of our dream life and the plot. but, for anyone who’s interested, let’s flip the script (pun intended) and talk about why creating an original, unique family for your desired reality can actually make your experience richer, more meaningful, and a whole lot more fun !!

WHY KEEP THE FAMILY DRAMA?

first off, let’s address the elephant in the room: family can be a lot. but scripting them out entirely can be like throwing the baby out with the bathwater !! there’s tons of potential to consider there. a family offers plenty of opportunities to add depth, lore, and a whole bunch of emotional layers to your DR. think about it—what’s a life without a little family drama, a bit of cozy love, or even a quirky aunt who always brings the laughs? it doesn’t have to be a big, happy family—it can be whatever you feel like you need, whatever fits

HOW TO BUILD YOUR DR FAMILY

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— SIZE MATTERS ( but not really ) .　　. 　 ˚　. when scripting your DR family, start with size. do you want a big, loud, chaotic family with siblings running around, or something closer to a small, tight-knit crew? maybe you’re an only child who’s the apple of your parents’ eyes, or perhaps you’re in the middle of a bustling household where everyone’s got a role to play. there’s no right or wrong—just what feels right for you, and what you feel like you need in that specific DR

— CHOOSE YOUR ROLES .　　. 　 ˚　. who’s in your family? a loving, supportive mom who’s your biggest cheerleader? a cool dad who’s kind of your best friend? maybe a set of grandparents who tell you the most insane stories about their youth, or a mouthy sibling who keeps you on your toes. think about the roles that would enrich your life in your DR. remember, these people are there to support your life, not unnecessarily complicate it

— CONNECTIONS .　　. 　 ˚　. now, here’s where it gets fun (in my opinion): your relationships. are you super close with your mom, the kind of close where you can endlessly gossip and have deep life talks? is your dad the type to give you space but always manages to have your back when it counts? maybe you have an insane sibling rivalry that spans over a decade. the relationships you script can add so much flavor to your DR—it’s all about creating connections that resonate with you, and support you in all the ways you want to be supported

FITTING INTO THE LORE ( making it make sense )

if your DR has a specific lore or world-building element ( Hogwarts, Marvel, etc. you know ), weave your family into it !! maybe your mom’s a legendary witch, or your dad’s a top Auror. perhaps your family runs a magical bakery, or you’re part of an ancient lineage with a complex magical or academic heritage. the point is, your family should feel at home in your DR, adding to the story rather than feeling like an afterthought that detracts from it

SOME IDEAS FOR YOUR DR FAMILY

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( just to get you started )

— MAGICAL LINEAGE .　　. 　 ˚　. your family has a rich history tied to your DR’s lore—maybe you’re descendants of a powerful wizard, or you’ve got a long-standing feud with another powerful family. drama

— ECCENTRIC GROUP .　　. 　 ˚　. a family full of eccentric or seemingly ridiculous people—a dad who invents magical gadgets, a mom who’s an expert potion maker, siblings who are always concocting some mischievous or downright strange plans

— TIGHT-KNIT TEAM .　　. 　 ˚　. quiet and likely unassuming—just a small, close family who’s been through everything together together. you lot might not be flashy, but their love and support are solid and you know you can always count on them

— CHAOTIC CLAN .　　. 　 ˚　. a massive, bustling family where everyone’s got their own unique role. maybe you’ve got siblings with vastly different personalities, parents that always have something insane to say, or aunts and uncles hailing from faraway places. family gatherings are always an ordeal

DON’T STRESS THE DETAILS

here’s the deal: scripting your DR family is about enhancing your experience, not stressing you out or detracting from all the things you wanna do. whether you want to create a sprawling family tree or just script a few key members, it’s all up to you. and remember—at the end of the day, your DR is personal to you. it’s about what makes you feel connected, supported, and ready to dive into the adventure of a lifetime

so, build that dream family !! whether they’re magical, mundane, or somewhere in between, totally supportive or bringing never-ending drama to spice things up, at the end of the day they’re there to add richness and depth to your DR. and trust me, it’ll make your journey all the more special if you let it !!

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#shifting motivation #reality shifting #shiftblr #shifting antis dni #shifting blog #shifters #shifting script #shifting #shifting community #shifting realities #shifting aesthetic #shiftinconsciousness #shift #shifting consciousness #shifting diary #shiftingrealities

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cosmiclily · 2 days ago

Note

Can you write a Vi oneshot y/n is two years younger than Vi and is Jinx best friend. Vi sees y/n as a younger sister since she and Jinx have been childhood best friends while she has had a crush on Vi since she first met her. Jinx knows and teases her about it but is rooting for the reader and Vi to get together. Vi is protective of y/n especially when she sees people flirt with y/n. As they grow up y/n starts trying to move on since she believes Vi won’t ever have feelings for her but Vi does love her but never made a move because she is Jinx best friend and thinks Jinx wouldn’t approve. Vi finds out by Vander that Jinx is helping y/n get ready for her date and encourages her that she needs to confess her feelings before it’s too late and has to watch y/n be in a relationship. Vi confesses goes to y/n place and confesses her feelings and is surprised when y/n kisses her and tells her that she’s always loved her since they were kids the two sleep with together and are each others first the next day reveal their relationship and Jinx and Vander are happy for the two. Fast forward the two are married and have two kids together

BFS - My Best Friend’s Sister - Vi x F!Reader

wc: 4.6k

cw: none, i think.

notes: uhm, i got a little carried away with this one 🤡

anyway, thank you for the request, hope you enjoy! ⋆˚✿˖°

The first time I met Jinx, I had no idea my life was about to change in ways I couldn’t even imagine. We met on the very first day of high school. My first impression of her? The bright blue hair, of course—it was impossible to miss—and the fact that she was insanely smart, like should-have-skipped-high-school-and-gone-straight-to-college smart. Her intelligence wasn’t just impressive; it ended up saving my skin more times than I can count.

One of those times was during our first biology project. The teacher paired us together, and Jinx offered to work on it at her house. She mentioned that her dad wasn’t home and her sister would probably be out late because of basketball practice. It worked perfectly for me because my house was not an option.

So, off to Jinx’s house we went. She lived in this quirky, mismatched house attached to her dad’s bar. The second I stepped into her room, I knew I was in a completely different world. The walls were covered in her sketches—like, really good sketches—and there were mechanical parts scattered around from her various projects. It wasn’t messy, though; it was… creative chaos. Her room had so much personality, like every inch of it told a story about her.

We dove into the project and worked on it for hours. Time flew by so quickly I didn’t even realize how late it had gotten until her sister came home. And wow—Vi. That was her name, as I later learned. She was two years older than us and looked incredible in her basketball uniform. She had this effortless confidence about her, like she didn’t even have to try to be cool.

“Who’s this?” Vi asked Jinx, tossing her hair back casually and wiping her forehead with the bottom of her jersey. The motion gave me a quick glimpse of her abs under the loose uniform, and—wow—I definitely wasn’t prepared for that.

“Oh, this is Y/N,” Jinx said before I could even attempt to respond. “She’s in my bio class. We were working on a project, but she’s about to head out.”

I was grateful Jinx stepped in because, honestly, I felt like I’d forgotten how to speak. Vi was… hypnotizing. The way she stood there, so effortlessly cool, it made my cheeks heat up instantly. I was pretty sure I wasn’t drooling, but the tightness in my chest told me I was one awkward moment away from embarrassing myself.

“H-Hi,” I managed to mutter, giving her a tiny, shy wave. My voice cracked slightly, which only made me want to crawl under a rock.

Vi’s lips curled into a teasing smile as she crossed her arms, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Hi,” she replied, her voice warm but laced with playful sarcasm. “Nice to meet one of my sister’s friends. First one, in fact.”

“Hey!” Jinx protested, rolling her eyes. “I have friends.”

Vi raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Sure you do.” Then, turning back to me, she added, “You must be special. Jinx doesn’t usually invite people over. Did she bribe you with snacks or something?”

I laughed nervously, still hyper-aware of her presence. “No snacks, just… science, I guess.”

Vi chuckled, the sound low and almost musical, and it sent a weird flutter through my chest. “Well, don’t let her scare you off. She might be a pain, but she’s harmless.”

“Gee, thanks,” Jinx muttered sarcastically, tossing a pillow in Vi’s direction. Vi caught it with ease, smirking before tossing it back onto Jinx’s bed.

“Anyway,” Vi said, straightening up, “it was nice meeting you, Y/N. Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

I nodded, still feeling like I was stuck in some kind of surreal dream. “Nice meeting you too,” I mumbled, trying not to sound as flustered as I felt.

As Vi turned to leave, she glanced back over her shoulder with a playful wink, and my heart practically stopped. Once she was gone, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

“So,” Jinx said, breaking the silence with a sly grin, “you’re blushing.”

“What? No, I’m not!” I protested quickly, though the heat radiating from my face told a different story.

“Oh, you so are,” she teased, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms. “Don’t worry, you’re not the first person to fall for Vi’s charm. She has that effect on people.”

“Great,” I muttered under my breath, feeling more embarrassed by the second.

──────────────────────

From that day on, I made every excuse possible to go to Jinx’s house. Studying for a test? Jinx’s house. Working on a project? Jinx’s house. Binge-watching the new show we both got into? Definitely at Jinx’s house.

And don’t get me wrong—it wasn’t just because of Vi (though Jinx would totally argue otherwise). I genuinely loved being there. Jinx’s house had this warmth to it, a chaotic but comforting energy that made me feel like I belonged. After I met Vander, Jinx’s dad, the place felt even more like a second home. Vander was the kind of guy who made everyone feel welcome. He’d always crack a joke or offer food, and he treated me like I was part of the family from the start.

But… yeah. My crush on Vi? It only got worse. I found myself lurking in hallways or hanging around the kitchen, hoping to catch even a quick glimpse of her. Every time I saw her, I tried to muster up the courage to start a conversation. The problem was, as soon as I opened my mouth, my brain seemed to short-circuit.

One morning, after a sleepover at Jinx’s, I went downstairs to grab a glass of water. I wasn’t expecting to see anyone, but there she was standing in the kitchen in sweatpants and a sports bra making breakfast.

“Good morning,” Vi said, her voice casual as she kept her eyes on the pan in front of her. “Do you want breakfast?”

For a second, I forgot how to form words. “Oh, uh—if it’s not a bother, yeah, I’d like some,” I managed to say, grabbing a glass of water and sitting at the kitchen table.

The silence between us grew heavier by the second as she scrambled eggs, and I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. My mind was blank—well, except for the part of me panicking about how awkward I probably looked. Desperate to fill the silence, I blurted out the first thing that popped into my head.

“Did you know that eggshells have, like, 17,000 pores?”

Vi froze for a moment and slowly turned to look at me, one eyebrow raised, like I’d just sprouted a second head. “Uh… no. I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah,” I said weakly, feeling my face heat up. “Fun fact, I guess.”

She gave me a small, amused smile and went back to cooking. But the damage was done—I was mortified. From that day on, I vowed to never start a conversation with Vi unless someone else was there to save me from myself.

Of course, I made the mistake of telling Jinx about the whole thing. She laughed so hard I thought she might pass out, and for the next week, she didn’t let me live it down. Every time we hung out, she’d drop random egg facts just to tease me.

“Hey, did you know an ostrich egg can support the weight of a grown man?” she’d say, smirking.

Or: “Apparently, chickens can lay blue eggs. Do you think Vi would be impressed if you told her that?”

──────────────────────

During our sophomore year, my crush on Vi only grew worse. I didn’t miss a single one of her basketball games—not one. Did I know anything about basketball? Absolutely not. I couldn’t even follow the rules half the time. But it didn’t matter. Watching her on the court, seeing her light up whenever she scored, and that radiant smile she wore when her team won—it was enough to keep me coming back.

Of course, I dragged Jinx along to every game. She didn’t care much for sports and made a point of complaining loudly about how boring it was, but I think deep down she knew why I was so invested. “You’re hopeless,” she’d say with a smirk whenever I got flustered after Vi waved at us from the court.

The best part, though, was after the games. Vi always made a point to come over and talk to us. Well, to Jinx mostly, but she’d smile at me, too, and ask me questions like, “What did you think of the game?” or “Did you see that last play?” And every time, I’d stumble through some vague answer because honestly, I’d been too busy staring at her to pay attention to the game itself.

Being around her made me so happy. Just those small moments of acknowledgment, those little smiles and casual conversations, were enough to keep my heart racing for days. But deep down, I knew the truth: Vi only saw me as Jinx’s younger friend. A little sister, at best. She’d made that painfully clear on multiple occasions.

Once, when we were all hanging out after a game, someone jokingly suggested that I had a crush on Vi. I don’t even remember who said it—maybe one of her teammates—but I remember how Vi laughed it off immediately. “Oh, Y/N? She’s like a kid sister,” she said with a grin, ruffling my hair like I was some kind of puppy.

It stung, but I tried to play it off, laughing along even as my chest tightened. I told myself it didn’t matter. Having her in my life at all, even as a friend or honorary sibling, was better than nothing. But the truth was, every time she called me “kid”, it felt like a gentle reminder of how impossible my feelings for her really were.

──────────────────────

After Vi moved to college, I knew I had to let go. The multiple reminders that she only saw me as a kid—Jinx’s best friend who told weird egg facts—played on a loop in my head. I told myself it was time to move on, to stop clinging to a fantasy that would never happen. But trying to move on was so much harder than I expected.

I started looking for pieces of her in everyone I met. Every girl I got to know, every potential crush—I couldn’t help but compare them to Vi. How a girl would act a certain way, and the first thing I’d think was, “Vi would never do that.” Or if someone treated me poorly, I’d find myself muttering, “Vi would never treat me like that.” It wasn’t fair to anyone, but it was like she’d set this impossible standard that no one else could meet.

I’d only see her during winter break when she came home for the holidays. And every time, I’d convince myself that I was over her. I’d spent months trying to push her out of my heart, convincing myself that I was ready to move on, that I’d grown out of the crush. But then she’d walk through the door, her hair tied back, that easy smile on her face, and all those carefully constructed walls I’d built would come crashing down.

The feelings would flood back, twenty times stronger than before. It was like no time had passed, like I was still the same lovesick kid who couldn’t even hold a conversation with her without blurting out the first time that came to mind.

It became a painful loop. I’d spend most of the year trying to heal, trying to forget her, only for everything to unravel the second I saw her again. Seeing her with new eyes—older, more confident, and more out of reach than ever—made it even harder. She’d tell us about college, about her team and the new people she’d met, and I’d smile and nod like I wasn’t aching inside.

Jinx, of course, noticed. She always did. “You’re still hung up on her, aren’t you?” she asked me one night, not unkindly.

I didn’t even bother denying it. “It’s not like I can help it,” I said, shrugging helplessly. “It’s just… her.”

Jinx sighed, shaking her head. “You’re gonna have to let her go someday, you know.”

“I know,” I whispered. But knowing didn’t make it any easier.

It wasn’t just a crush anymore. It was a pattern, a piece of me that I couldn’t seem to shake. No matter how hard I tried to move on, Vi had become this impossible figure in my life—someone who I loved deeply but knew I could never have. And every time she left again for college, I’d start the process all over, trying to forget her, trying to move forward, only to be thrown right back into the same cycle when she came home.

──────────────────────

Senior year was chaotic. Between applying for colleges, writing essays, and preparing for exams, Jinx and I barely had time to hang out. But at least we were both focused on our futures. Amid all the stress, though, something good did happen: a new transfer student arrived at our school in the second trimester. Her name was Ava. She was tall, athletic, and impossibly chatty.

Ava was different, she was the kind of person who could talk to anyone and make them feel at ease. It wasn’t long before the three of us were inseparable, hanging out together whenever we could. By the time we finally had a breather, it was almost Christmas, and things had shifted. Ava and I had started dating. We hadn’t officially gone out on a date yet, but with classes winding down, we finally had the chance to.

But just when things seemed to be falling into place, Vi came home for the holidays. I hadn’t seen her in months, and I’d convinced myself that I was over her, that I had moved on. But the second I walked into her house, I saw her standing there, and all those feelings I thought I’d buried rushed back like a tidal wave.

She was leaning against the doorway, effortlessly cool in a casual outfit, talking to Jinx. She laughed at something Jinx said, and the sound of her laughter hit me like a punch to the gut. I froze, just watching her, telling myself over and over that I was with Ava now, that I was past this. But seeing Vi again made it feel like I hadn’t moved on at all.

She turned and caught my eye, her smile softening as she waved. “Hey, kid,” she said, her voice light and teasing, the same as always.

I waved back, trying to mask the rush of emotions flooding through me. “Hey,” I replied with a smile, turning to Jinx for a distraction. “Are you free to help me with my outfit for my date?” I asked, pretending that everything was normal, even though my heart was doing flips.

Jinx grinned, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Date night, huh? Sure, I’ve got you covered.” She shot a playful glance at Vi before pulling me toward her room.

As I followed Jinx down the hall, I couldn’t help but notice the way Vi’s gaze lingered on me for just a moment too long. Maybe I was imagining it, but part of me wondered if she had noticed my discomfort, my attempt to shield myself from the rush of emotions that still tied me to her.

Once we were safely in Jinx’s room, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “I’m fine,” I muttered, trying to convince myself as much as Jinx.

“You sure about that?” Jinx asked with a knowing smile. “I’ve seen that look before. You’re definitely not fine.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “I’m just… trying to keep it together. I thought I was over her, you know? But the second I saw her again…”

“Yeah, I get it,” Jinx said softly, her voice carrying an understanding I hadn’t expected. “Listen, before you get into this relationship with Ava, I think you should talk to Vi. I know you think she’s this impossible person to reach, but you’ve liked her for so long, and you deserve to know where you stand. Give it a shot, at least. You have my blessing, you know.”

“I’ll think about it, okay?” I said, pushing the thoughts aside as I pulled a few outfits out of my bag, trying to distract myself with the decision of what to wear for my date.

The night passed in a blur, but on my way home, Jinx’s words echoed in my mind. It wasn’t fair to Ava. I was starting something with her, and yet I couldn’t shake the weight of my feelings for Vi. How could I be with someone when my heart was still stuck in the past? Maybe Jinx was right—maybe I owed it to myself, and to Ava, to talk to Vi and finally face whatever was left unsaid between us.

What did I have to lose? Next year, I’d be moving out and I’d never have to face this awkward tension again. But if I kept pretending, kept pushing my feelings aside, would I ever really be able to move on?

It was hard to ignore the familiar ache in my chest, the one that seemed to tighten every time I thought of Vi. But Jinx was right about one thing: I couldn’t keep dragging Ava into something if I wasn’t emotionally available. It wasn’t fair to her. I needed to know, once and for all, if there was something left between Vi and me.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized I was running out of time to make that choice. If I didn’t talk to Vi now, I might never get the chance. So, what was stopping me? Fear? The same fear that had held me back all these years?

──────────────────────

I texted Ava, asking if she could come over earlier than we had planned. I had made up my mind—she should be the first person I talked to. If I was going to sort through this mess of emotions, I needed to be honest with her, no matter how hard it felt. As nervous as I was, deep down, I knew that what I was doing was the right thing.

When I heard the soft knock on the door, my heart jumped into my throat. Taking a deep breath, I opened it.

“Hi,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. Ava stood there, her tall frame filling the doorway, her face puzzled but kind. Her brown eyes searched mine, like she could sense something was off.

“Hey,” she said slowly. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah... well, no,” I admitted, stepping aside to let her in. “Do you wanna come in so we can talk?”

Ava hesitated for a moment, then nodded, stepping inside. She followed me to the living room, where we sat across from each other on the couch. The air between us was thick with unspoken tension.

“What’s going on?” she asked, her voice soft but direct.

I swallowed hard, clasping my hands together to keep them from shaking. “Ava, you’ve been nothing but amazing. You’re funny, kind, and so easy to be around. But... I don’t think I’ve been fair to you.”

Her brows furrowed, and she tilted her head slightly. “What do you mean?”

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of my words before they left my lips. “When we started talking, I thought I was ready. I thought I was over... someone from my past. But seeing them again recently made me realize that I’m not. And it’s not fair to you to start something when I’m still trying to sort through those feelings.”

Ava’s expression softened, but I could see the flicker of disappointment in her eyes. “So... this person, they’re the reason you’ve been hesitant with me?”

I nodded, guilt twisting in my chest. “I didn’t mean to let it get this far without telling you. I really like you, Ava, and I didn’t want to hurt you. But I need to be honest—with you and with myself. I can’t give you what you deserve if I’m still stuck on someone else.”

She was quiet for a moment, processing what I’d said. Then she let out a small, humorless laugh. “Well, at least you’re honest about it. I can’t say it doesn’t hurt, but I appreciate you telling me now instead of dragging it out.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s okay,” she replied, though I could tell it wasn’t. “You’re doing the right thing. And for what it’s worth, I hope you figure it out—whatever it is you need to do. You deserve to be happy too.”

Her words hit me harder than I expected, and for a moment, all I could do was nod. We sat there in silence for a little while longer before Ava stood up to leave.

As I walked Ava to the door, she turned back and gave me one last hug. It was warm, yet it carried a bittersweet finality. "Take care of yourself, okay?" she whispered before stepping away.

I stood at the doorway, watching her retreat down the sidewalk, the weight of the conversation still pressing on my chest. But just as Ava disappeared around the corner, I noticed someone else walking toward me.

Vi.

Her flushed cheeks and uneven breathing told me she had been running. Her hair was slightly disheveled, and there was a look in her eyes I couldn’t quite place—somewhere between urgency and worry.

“Am I too late?” she asked, her voice breathless as she approached me.

“Too late for what?” I asked, utterly confused. What was she doing here? Why did she look so distressed?

She paused at the bottom of the steps, hands on her knees as she caught her breath. When she stood upright again, her eyes met mine, and I saw something there I hadn’t seen before. “Yesterday, after you left, I talked to Jinx and my dad...”

Her words hung in the air, unfinished, and I felt my heartbeat quicken.

“Okay... and?” I prompted, unsure where she was going with this but unable to ignore the flicker of hope rising in my chest.

Vi rubbed the back of her neck, her usual confidence faltering. “Jinx told me everything,” she admitted, her voice quieter now. “About how you’ve felt... for years.”

My stomach dropped. “She what?”

“She told me,” Vi repeated, taking a tentative step closer. “At first, I didn’t believe her. I mean, how could I? I always thought you just saw me as... Jinx’s annoying older sister.” She let out a nervous laugh. “But the more she talked, the more I realized how blind I’ve been. I guess I just didn’t want to see it.”

I was frozen, my mind spinning. “Vi, I—”

“Wait,” she interrupted, holding up a hand. “Let me finish.” She stepped onto the porch, now standing just a few feet away from me. “After I talked to Jinx, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I talked to my dad too, and he basically told me the same thing Jinx did—that I’ve been an idiot for not noticing what was right in front of me.”

Her words hit me like a wave, and I struggled to process them. “Vi, what are you trying to say?”

She took another step closer, her expression softening. “I’m saying that I might’ve been blind before, but I’m not anymore. And if there’s even a chance that I haven’t completely screwed this up... I want to try.”

My breath caught in my throat. “Try what?”

“You and me,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “If you still feel the same way, I want to see where this goes. I know I’ve probably hurt you by being clueless all these years, and I’m sorry for that. But I don’t want to miss this chance. Not anymore.”

I stared at her, my heart racing. This was everything I had ever wanted to hear, but it felt almost too good to be true.

“Vi...” I started, my voice trembling. “You don’t have to say this just because Jinx told you. I don’t want you to feel pressured—”

“I’m not,” she cut me off firmly. “This is me, finally realizing that I’ve been pushing away something—someone—who means more to me than I ever let myself admit. So, what do you say?”

Her eyes searched mine, filled with a mix of vulnerability and hope, and for a moment, all the words I could’ve said vanished from my mind. Talking had never been my strong suit anyway, and I knew there was only one way to show her exactly how I felt.

I took a deep breath, closed the small gap between us, and kissed her.

The world seemed to freeze for a second. Her lips were soft, and the warmth of her touch was more grounding than I ever imagined it could be. For a heartbeat, I worried she might pull away, that maybe I’d misunderstood her words or her intentions. But then, she kissed me back, her hands gently resting on my waist, pulling me closer.

Every emotion I had bottled up for years seemed to pour into that kiss—every moment of longing, every glance I had stolen, every dream I thought would never come true. And now, here she was, holding me as if I’d always belonged there.

When we finally pulled apart, her forehead rested against mine, both of us catching our breath. She chuckled softly, her voice warm and teasing. “I guess that’s one way to answer.”

I smiled, still too overwhelmed to form a coherent sentence. “Words aren’t really my thing,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

“They don’t have to be,” she said, her hand brushing a strand of hair from my face. “That was pretty clear.”

──────────────────────

And that’s how I find myself today—married to the love of my life, Vi, with two beautiful daughters who are the perfect mix of chaos and joy. Sometimes, when I look at her across the dinner table or watch her playing basketball with the girls in the driveway, I can’t help but wonder how different things could have been.

If Jinx hadn’t told Vi about my feelings, would I have ever found the courage to tell her myself? Would we have gone our separate ways, lost to time and distance, living entirely different lives? Would destiny have been kind enough to let us meet again later in life? And even if it had, would the outcome have been the same?

I think about it often—how fragile our connection once seemed, teetering on the edge of a confession that might never have come. It’s a reminder of how one brave moment, one nudge in the right direction, can change everything.

Jinx, of course, loves to remind me that she’s the reason for my happiness. “You owe me big time,” she says with a grin every time the story comes up. And honestly, she’s not wrong. If it weren’t for her meddling—or as she calls it, genius matchmaking—I might not be sitting here today, surrounded by the family I never dreamed I could have.

But destiny, as unpredictable and wild as it is, seemed to have a soft spot for us. It gave me the love of my life, someone who challenges me, grounds me, and loves me unconditionally. And while the what-ifs might linger in my mind from time to time, I know one thing for sure: I wouldn’t change a single moment of our journey.

Because every twist, every hesitation, every step forward brought us here—to this messy, beautiful life we’ve built together. And I couldn’t ask for anything more.

#vi x reader #vi x y/n #vi x you #arcane #vi arcane #arcane x female reader #arcane x reader #arcane x y/n #arcane x you #lily writes

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merchantziro · 2 days ago

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I feel like adding to this...

Starting off with Ben, I definitely feel like he'd probably be a League contact in the same way Jenny is, but Ben isn't an official member since he's sticking with the Plumbers (did have Azmuth help patch the Omnitrix to connect to other JL Communicators though similar to how it's connected to Plumber's Badgers, easier for Ben to keep track of that way.) and the Plumbers fall into an area where they deal with intergalactic threats just as much as the Lanterns do and not strictly tied to the Justice League.

Now Kevin Levin however... I can 100% see being a mechanic who helps tune up and repair Justice League vehicles such as spaceships. Not to mention he probably conveniently knows a lot of stuff about alien technology, illegal parts, and the alien criminal underworld. (He probably gets along well with Plastic Man in that regard as former criminals turned heroes, or at least retired hero in Kev's case)

Granted he's probably one of the individuals the League is more "in the know" of since Ben himself is a world famous hero but since the attention was more on Ben and Kevin stopped being near him as much ever since Omniverse, when he found a home and job so he could stay close to Gwen's campus while she was at college, and Ben's partner became Rook.

Also I want to imagine as an alternative to Ben himself, you have Albedo working on the Watchtower. Not fully redeemed mind you, just on parole but the Plumbers didn't need any more Galvans so the Justice League was the next best choice for keeping an eye on him (maybe that's why Kevin is there), still stuck as a 10 Year Old Ben which also makes getting taken seriously difficult by the heroes and other geniuses when he gives his input.

Of course all it takes is one comment about cursing this stupid body and mentioning he's a clone technically speaking that Danny "My daughter/sister/cousin/it's complicated is my clone" Fenton and Conner "Clone of Superman who definitely had a strained relationship for a time but made it work eventually" Kent to immediately begin working on a clone support group for other clones (assuming they didn't already have one ready).

So you could make a case for him at least slipping through the cracks somewhat for at least a decent chunk of the League.

I also like to imagine that alongside Dipper and Randy in Archives is Dib Membrane, but one who is relatively more chilled out by this point ever since Zim basically proved himself to no longer be a threat to the world (whether he's basically quit his Irken invasion plans once he finally truly realized the Tallest had no care for Earth or just got caught by the Plumbers or Lanterns is up to you).

Since then Dib has been more active in researching the Supernatural after aliens and magic became more public knowledge in the wake of Superheroes, no less crazy than before mind you... But at least he's calmed down once he's felt vindicated by being proven he was right about SOME stuff.

Sunset Shimmer meanwhile... Considering she lives in the DC Universe here and there are PLENTY of magic users, I can see her studying in the background at some point once the knowledge of magic becomes more public. Maybe learn to tap into that Pony-Up form she has and regain access to her original Unicorn magic power. Probably also helps Dipper, Randy, and Dib on the side as another Supernatural magic expert with knowledge she's retained from Equestria, she was Princess Celestia's student before Twilight after all.

Also all I can imagine is Sunset realizing when a situation gets BAD enough that she has to send an SOS for backup from Twilight using that magic book of hers that's connected to another in Equestria.

The League rumors run WILD after the fact when Shimmer snitches to a post timeskip Twilight Sparkle about a big bad guy they need help with, and suddenly you have an Alicorn Princess just show up out of nowhere with the rest of the Mane 6 in tow, 100% prepared to nuke the sucker with the Magic of Friendship to just turn them to stone or maybe banish them by sealing them inside moon or sun if you want, then immediately say hi and bye to Sunset as they leave without explaining anything.

There was also the mention of Spud from Jake Long: American Dragon and I can imagine Jake himself, as the (potentially former) American Dragon of the World Dragons, is just there to help Dipper and Dib in archiving as he writes down what he knows of the Supernatural. The Justice League Dark takes a long time to realize Jake, as well as probably Dipper, Danny, Randy, Juniper, Sunset, and Dib are adding these notes the JLD don't remember writing themselves.

However I would also like to add for consideration...

A guy who was formerly a scholar that researched bugs, before eventually getting a job on the Watchtower helping the other Supernatural Experts in archiving though his specialization appears to be with more in the realm of Ki/Chi and such, however you would also find him working near the Gym in his off hours.

The rumors only started for him when he was caught lifting a dumbbell with one hand while reading with an old martial arts book in the other, before eventually swapping hands as he seemed preoccupied to notice.

...A dumbbell designed specifically for the Supers and Wonders.

So yeah Mr. Gohan Son became the new hot topic of the rumors while he was getting along great with the rest of his fellow employees. I can see him getting along great and even seeming delighted by discussions with other Ki/Chi users such as Jake with his Human Chi and Dragon Chi, probably mentioning his father and Vegeta having both Mortal Ki and Godly Ki as a result of ascending into Gods themselves. A discussion that leads to more wild speculation from almost every single person in earshot, probably about Gohan being a Demi-God son of a God, and the speculation comes to Sun Wukong due to Gohan talking about his father Goku and his adventures with a magical staff, a magic cloud, and his monkey tail.

However despite the Great Saiyaman being retired mostly, Gohan does remain semi-active as a protector of Earth when needed. But the Z-Fighters aren't exactly in the public eye much and Gohan looks way different from when did at the Cell Games as the Golden Fighter, that it was easy for people to overlook him.

On a side note. I imagine him working on his book, Groundbreaking Science, on the side. A book from Dragon Ball Online talking about his research into the nature of ki and of the martial arts of the past that was popular and helped introduce the concept of ki to the general population of Earth in a possible future at least. Though here it would probably have other information and such thanks to the input from others knowledgeable on Ki/Chi on the Watchtower that Gohan talked to.

However I also imagine how terrible an idea that would be with the amount of villains on Earth there are already, like we don't need a super powered Joker flying around.

Not to mention the Bats especially with how much of a menace they would become if they learned how to manipulate Ki to fly and fire energy blasts, they're already scary enough as like PEAK Human in their world. And Super Kami Dende help you if these fuckers learned the Kaioken because you KNOW they're gonna push it to borderline suicidal lengths.

They are gonna be on the edge of killing themselves between potential Ki Overuse and the Kaioken so much, that I can already feel Alfred's ghost approaching me with the shotgun for writing this.

Anyway... I can only imagine the gagglefuck of retired teen heroes and such just forming their own mini branch of the Justice League in the same way the Justice League Dark, Young Justice, and Teen Titans are. Probably also have Ben, Jenny, and Kim as well since, even if they're not fully retired, it's not uncommon to see them come up from time to time to visit their respective friends/family or need to talk to one of the Justice League members in person about something (or a combination where they ignore "the experts" to get the input of one of the retired ex-teen heroes instead).

Most of them, they're the ones you call when you need advice or assistance with any random thing because many have varying knowledge and at least one can usually help in any niche subject. But they also are a last resort call for World Ending "All Hands on Deck" emergencies when they're in some real shit.

Short DPXDC Prompts #648

The League gets incredibly concerned that their main tech mechanic, Danny Fenton, has instances of his heart or breathing randomly stopping. His skin is cold as ice and his skin is deathly pale.

Danny didn’t realize that the League doesn’t look at hiring applications. If they did they would have seen that he put being a half ghost on his resume.

#dpxdc #dc x mlb #dc x a bunch of Xover from about any shows you can think of with child heroes that could possiblely retired with their antagonist defeated #some body make a a fic with this #even a seperate post would do #im just too lazy to do it my self #Batman woild like to know why and where all of this retired child superheroes are comming from #at least they're retired #to be fair #they were active before any of the JL and some of its founding members were active #mentioned MLP:FIM #mentioned Ben 10 #mentioned DBZ #mentioned Jake Long #mentioned Invader Zim

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suzukiblu · 1 day ago

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WIP excerpt for derpsheep behind the cut; "obligatory sugar baby Kon". (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Huh?” Kon asks, wrinkling his nose in confusion. Cassie lunges at Bart and yanks him behind herself, presumably to hide the fact she’s clamped a hand over his mouth.

“Nothing!” she says brightly. “Absolutely nothing! Done with your texting? All good there?”

“Oh, yeah. Wasn’t a big thing or anything,” Kon says, pushing his sunglasses up into his hair with a shrug. He’s wearing metallic silver eyeliner. Just a little bit of it, but a noticeable bit of it. Like–a bit. That can be noticed. Noticeably.

. . . noticeably.

Tim’s brain is definitely not brainable again yet, yeah.

Cassie makes a strangled noise as Bart phases out of her grip with an annoyed expression that she seems oblivious to, then squints at Kon again. He and Suzie both continue to look very surprised about either what Kon’s wearing or their own reactions to what Kon’s wearing. Cissie just eyes him doubtfully, leaning forward over the table a little bit as she folds her arms on top of it.

“So like, were we fighting crime on the beach today or did you just decide to rebrand as Power Boy?” she asks with a dry expression, raising a skeptical eyebrow at him. Cassie gives her a murderous look and Kon–hesitates, briefly, just the slightest flicker of self-consciousness crossing the back of his eyes, and Tim’s brain figures out how to work again after all.

“Arrowette, with all due respect, you literally fight crime wearing less than that,” he reminds her wryly, pretending not to notice the hint of tension that leaves Kon’s shoulders as he says it. “And you’re not invulnerable or solar-powered.”

“Listen, this getup was not my design,” Cissie says, pointing accusingly at herself. “This is actually an improvement on my mom’s version, in fact, so don’t judge, I’m doing my best here.”

“Your best could possibly involve more body armor,” Tim mentions, perfectly neutral and objective about it. She gives him a dubious look.

“Oh, is that why the Robin suit comes in primary colors with T-shirt sleeves and no knee or elbow pads?” she asks with an unimpressed snort. Tim decides not to get into the whole “I need to look enough like an innocent kid that Batman doesn’t forget I technically and legally am one and start getting a little too vicious on the job again” thing. Seems like a bad idea and all.

She does have a point about at least the pads, admittedly. A hypocritical point, but a point. He could probably look into those.

“So is this your new costume?” Suzie asks curiously, floating over to circle Kon and peer curiously at his outfit. “Oh! You got a new earring, too! It’s cute!”

“Um–thanks,” Kon replies stiffly, still looking just barely self-conscious as he gives the sapphire stud a reflexive little tug, and then visibly puffs himself back up and shrugs again, tucking his hands into his jacket pockets. “Naw, not a new costume, just the one I was wearing today got kinda shredded and it was my last clean one, so it was this or do laundry and be, like, even later than I was already gonna be.”

Tim is perfectly aware that Kon owns much less revealing clothing than the clothing that he is currently wearing, but a) Robin is not aware of that and b) Tim Drake is neither a snitch nor ungrateful for the gifts that the world gives him.

Even the ones that short out his brain.

#timkon #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #dc robin #superboy #young just us #young justice #wip: obligatory sugar baby kon #derpsheep

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fear-is-truth · 3 days ago

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Wanna try out some freaky positions? The Evans and their favorite positions

⋆𐙚 ₊ the evans & their fav positions .ᐟ

ft. tate langdon ‧ kit walker ‧ kyle spencer ‧ jimmy darling ‧ james patrick march ‧ kai anderson ‧ austin sommers | content warning : nsfw. mdni

a/n: the way my jaw dropped when i read the first sentence.. you really got me with that one, anon

⟢ 𝓣𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝓛𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐃𝐎𝐍.

tate’s preferences in the bedroom are deeply tied to his need for emotional intimacy and reassurance.

missionary would be his favourite. it’s vulnerable, intimate, and allows for maximum connection, which is what tate craves more than anything else. he’d interlock fingers with you, pressing your hands into the mattress or holding them tightly.

eye contact would be everything to him. he’d want to look directly into your eyes, searching for reassurance, love, and validation. to tate, that kind of closeness makes him feel safe.

he’d constantly check in with you, softly asking, “is this okay?” or “how does it feel?” not just to make sure you’re comfortable, but because he genuinely needs the verbal affirmation to know he’s doing something right—something that makes you happy.

⟢ 𝓚𝐈𝐓 𝓦𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑.

missionary would be kit’s favourite position most of the time. it feels intimate, allows for deep connection, and fits his “good ol’ fashioned lover-boy” nature perfectly. he’s all about closeness—pressing his forehead to yours, whispering sweet nothings, and holding you tightly like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

he’s the type of guy who cherishes the little details, like brushing hair out of your face, kissing your shoulders, and holding eye contact.

that said, cowgirl would also be a common occurrence, especially after a long day of work. kit works himself to the bone providing for your family, so sometimes he’s just exhausted when he gets home. he loves when you take the lead, because it makes him feel so loved to just lay back, relax, and let you take care of him.

he’s a little shy at first with letting you take control, but once he sees how much fun you’re having, he’s all in—hands on your hips, guiding you on his cock, his face in awe like you’ve hung the moon.

psychologically, kit’s approach to intimacy is about balance. he wants to feel needed and strong, like he’s protecting and loving you in the best way he can, but he also loves it when you take charge because it shows him how much you trust him.

no matter the position, kit’s main goal is making sure you’re happy. he’d always put your comfort and pleasure first.

⟢ pre death .ᐟ 𝓚𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝓢𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑.

kyle is a hopeless romantic at heart, so missionary is definitely his favourite. this position lets him stay close, keep eye contact, and show you how much he cares.

face-off (you in his lap) would also be a favorite. kyle loves having you close, with your arms wrapped around him. it’s perfect for when you’re both in a lazy, cuddly mood, plus he gets to kiss you all over.

⟢ 𝓙𝐈𝐌𝐌𝐘 𝓓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆.

doggy style/ backshots? oh absofuckinlutely. he’s got that intense focus that comes out when he’s in control. guiding you with his hands on your hips, setting the pace in a borderline animalistic hunger.

standing positions are another go-to for jimmy. he’s the type to sweep you up, pin you against a wall (or a caravan) and let’s just say that the whole camp would know that y’all are having a good time.

despite the roughness, jimmy’s incredibly attuned to your reactions. he’s always making sure he’s not crossing a line, even if he doesn’t always verbalise it. his care comes through in the way he adjusts to you—whether it’s slowing down, holding you tighter, or kissing the back of your neck to reassure you.

⟢ 𝓙𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝓟𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝓜𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇.

at the beginning of your courtship, james would stick to missionary. it’s traditional, intimate, and allows for eye contact, which he values deeply—especially in those early moments when he’s still courting you with his old-world charm.

but as the relationship progresses, james lets his more “adventurous” side take the wheel. his love for theatrics and flair seeps into everything he does. suddenly, missionary evolves into backshots, or a shift in scenery to somewhere unexpected, like the grand dining table or on a bloody mattress with someone’s corpse on it. he loves variety and drama.

james is also a switch. there are times when he’s completely dominant, but when he’s in the mood? it’s a whole different story. he would relinquish control willingly, finding an almost masochistic joy in being at your mercy. his love for you transcends his ego—he enjoys seeing what you’d do with him, as long as it’s tasteful (or, in his words, “inspired”)

⟢ cult leader .ᐟ 𝓚𝐀𝐈 𝓐𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍.

doggy-style would absolutely be his top choice most of the time. it’s the most dominant position, and kai thrives on power—control, detachment, and him being the one to dictate the pace. it also lets him keep a certain emotional distance when he’s not in the mood to be vulnerable. if he’s feeling particularly guarded, he’d focus entirely on the physical aspect, avoiding eye contact altogether.

but when he’s in a more open headspace (which is rare but happens when he’s really invested in you), he’d shift to more intimate positions like missionary. he’d want to see your expressions, study the way you react to him. eye contact in this context would feel like a way to assert emotional dominance, as if he’s drawing something deeper out of you without having to say anything.

psychologically, kai’s interest in these positions ties into his obsessive need for control. missionary and doggy are not only great for physical connection but also align with his breeding kink. both are often touted as best for conception would appeal to him (….messiah baby. yeah)

ultimately, kai’s choice would depend entirely on his mood and his level of trust in the moment. when he feels secure, he craves the intimacy of seeing your face; when he doesn’t, he defaults to positions that allow him to stay in charge and keep his emotions in check.

⟢ 𝓐𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍 𝓢𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐒.

69 is a definite go-to for him. he enjoys the balanced give and take, both physically and mentally. the equal focus allows him to be in his head while still being present. and let’s be real—between eating you out, he’d probably says something like, “i need this, it helps the inspiration flow” because, to him, sex is both a release and a source of creativity.

cowgirl is another favourite, especially when he’s feeling a bit lazy or wants to just enjoy the view of your tits. he likes how it allows him to sit back, relax, and watch you bounce on his cock, all while he gets to think about whatever creative project he’s working on. it’s almost as if he’s got his mind on his latest writing but still completely invested in you. he’d probably appreciate the rhythm and focus, using it as an opportunity to zone out while still being completely physical.

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artist-issues · 12 hours ago

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Hi.

Jasmine - Went beyond the idea of “consent” to say what she really wanted was “a real friend” and “love” if married. Once she got those things, even when they were falsely found in Prince Ali, no more “boldly sneaking out for independence” for her.

Rapunzel - Wanted to go see the world and experience things for herself but discovered the best experience and dream was love, from a man, who she was willing to give “experiencing things” up for the sake of (when Mother Gothel stabbed him and she promised not to escape again if she could heal him.)

Snow White - Absolutely literally 100% “waiting for a man.” Her song is called “Someday My Prince Will Come.” Her prayer is for Grumpy, a man, to like her. She’s happiest when she’s showing love to the male characters around her. And that kind of love is what inspires and transforms them, to be less self-centered.

Mulan - Wanted to have a safe father and prove she was worthwhile—which she was. Long before she ever went off to war, she had her father’s love and esteem. “The greatest gift and honor is having you for a daughter.” She never needed to go to war to prove that. She never needed to prove she was as good as a man to do that, or better than a man, to do that. She had it all along.

Aurora - Not forced. Protected. By superpowered women who gave up their power, dignity, and identities just to keep her safe. And when she found out she couldn’t have the man she was in love with, she was heartbroken, but did not rebel against authority—because she’s the kind of precious woman who respects others and is worth protecting.

Cinderella - The Fairy Godmother does not “empower” Cinderella so that Cinderella can “reach her goals.” The Fairy Godmother gives Cinderella her “goals.” Literally. And she does it as a direct result of Cinderella willingly waiting for help. Not help necessarily from a Prince, but help from Something outside of herself. Fate, destiny, (in the original fairy tale it’s God) to “make her dreams come true.” And then after she meets the Prince? She certainly is “waiting” for him. She’s not sneaking out of the house by her wit and moxy to wave her slipper in front of his face and lecture him about how he can’t recognize her if she’s not in a ball gown. It’s her faith that saves her. And faith is dependent on something outside her own abilities.

Pocahontas - Wants to do the right thing, her “destined path,” instead of the smoothest, easiest thing, which is what everyone in her tribe sees as the highest good. And when hate is introduced, she combats it with love—not by “befriending” John Smith, but by giving her heart to John Smith, despite the fact that he can be a prejudiced blowhard. She loves him anyway. And that love allows her to see him as human, when everyone else sees him as less-than human. Same thing, with him to her. Without him in her life helping her to put belief into action, Pocahontas would have had no ability to convince anyone not to go to war.

Tiana - Why is everyone so obsessed with who-saves-who? Tiana worked to be an independent restaurant owner and that got her nothing, and if it had gotten her anything she straight-up says later in the movie that her dream (independence and ownership) would have been incomplete. Dissatisfying. Without who? Without a man. Without Naveen. Because love is worth more than gain, status, or validation—and she was never going to get love, gain, or validation without the help of a Higher Power. Her “the only way I’m going to get what I want is through my own hard work” philosophy was wrong, the whole movie worked hard to prove it wrong.

Belle - Belle’s “willingness to see past the exterior” did not save Prince Adam. Her showing him what it looks like to love someone self-sacrificially—meaning, you give up your own independence and your own dreams, for someone you love (her father)—is what gave him hope, and that hope led to him doing the same for her. Sacrificing his own interests for her, which is love, which is what broke the curse. Their love for each other broke the curse, it was not “her-saving-him.” And his name’s not Prince Adam, get over it, it’s the Beast.

Ariel - Ariel did not want to be human before she met Eric. She wanted to be part of the human world and understand it, and sure, she thought having feet and living in a world where she wasn’t told what to do all the time would be pretty cool—but “want,” as in, “give up anything for it, ready to go right now,” NO. She markedly did not want to leave her family and give up everything. Not until she had confirmation that she was right—that humans are not barbarians, and can be wonderful—and ERIC is that confirmation, for her. Eric is the inciting incident. Eric is the reason, the big “WHY” behind Ariel leaving the sea. She did give up everything for him. That’s the movie. There’s a shift in her motivations in the movie, and it happens when she sees that A) Eric is a dreamer like her, B) Eric is ridiculed for the way he sees the world like her, but he keeps believing anyway, and C) Eric risks his life to save other creatures instead of being a “spineless savage harpooning fish-eating barbarian.” Ariel did not want independence. She didn’t sign away her life and leave her family so she could dance around exploring the surface alone and independent. She did it so that she could be with someone. Who? Oh. A man. For love. And he absolutely does save her.

Merida - Merida’s movie is not about romance. The topic of “Arranged marriage” is only in the movie at all as a mini object lesson for “be brave enough to let a child decide what they’ll do with all you’ve taught them, instead of trying to force them out of a fear that they’ll make the wrong decision.” It’s really not making a statement about marriage at all. That’s just a low-hanging “the audience can understand Merida’s misgivings” fruit they grabbed.

Again—why are you all so obsessed with who-saves-who?

If you do the saving, congratulations, you demonstrated that you’re willing to sacrifice yourself, the hardest thing to sacrifice, for the sake of another. If you get saved, CONGRATULATIONS, you’re loved enough to be treated as worth such a sacrifice. BOTH THOSE THINGS ARE AWESOME. The worst thing to be is someone who 1) acts on their own self-interest (oh, like if your highest dream is to be “independent”) or 2) is completely unloved by anyone, and if you were endangered, nobody would even notice. Nobody would even want to demonstrate how much you mean to them by trying to save you.

Those are the worst things you could be. Why are you all so eager for your women characters to be those horrible loveless things? OR your men??

Also waiting?? Waiting to be saved? Have you ever lived any life, ever? Have you ever been in a circumstance you can’t change—yes you have, because you’re a human being who is not all-powerful. Don’t you know how incredible being able to wait for someone else to help you is? Do you know what the alternative is? Living in denial because you arrogantly believe that you have all the power to not only know what the exact right thing to do is to change your circumstance, but if you could just get it right, everything would change. OR. The other denial? Giving up. Letting your circumstances change you. My family hates me, so I’ll hate them back. I can’t get away so I might as well die. Those alternatives are the natural, easy, response we sink right into.

But waiting in hopeful expectation? Waiting because you trust someone else? Not letting your emotions be yanked up and down and all around by the shallow people and hard circumstances around you? That is hard to do.

These characters who wait on saviors and trust in love are so much stronger than the strong independent nothings you’re imagining.

Sincerely,

A woman who is waiting on The Man to come back and save her.

#StickIt

#Christianity #very long post #Cinderella #the little mermaid #Ariel #Pocahontas #Disney princess #Mulan #Merida #Brave #Jasmine #Aladdin

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revelboo · 21 hours ago

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Hi Revel! Not a request or anything but I just wanted to send in an ask telling you how much I appreciate your works! There’s such variety to choose from and I’m constantly impressed with the storylines that you craft and everything you come up with! I love how much you’ve thought about each character and it really shows in your work. For example, you’ve gone into little bits here and there about how each of your Starscreams’ are different and you are just superb at showing it! (Your take on Armada Starscream is my absolute favorite!!) It’s really inspiring honestly and makes me want to get back into fanfiction again. I can’t tell you how much I look forward to checking your blog each day and seeing what you’ve been up to! Also your blog is so accessible! I cannot imagine all the links you have to put in and kept up with but I’m so grateful for it! Ah, sorry for the rambling but I hope life treats you well. :^] <3

Here’s a silly little photo for you! He is so little <3

Thank you! I’m glad you like my nonsense and go out there and write the things you love! 💕

Bee’s just a tiny bab.

Even If It Kills Me Pt 14

Armada Starscream x Reader

• Head lifting from where you’re idly drawing on his datapad, you go still at the smell of food. Actual, hot food not chips or cookies. And Runway chirps holding up a brown paper bag. Watching the other two try to seize it from him before Starscream huffs through his vents and picks you up to set down on the floor with the mini-cons. “How did you get fast food?” You ask as Runway pushes the bag in your hands and then drapes himself against your back when you sit crosslegged on the floor and open it, the other two creeping closer and openly curious.

• Wings lifting and falling as he retrieves an energon cube for himself and smaller ones for the mini-cons and joins you on the floor, he watches you remove little wrapped packages from the bag. “The mini-cons found it,” he says and you shoot him a look. “A human set it on an outdoor table in the park and Runway snatched it,” he admits with a grimace. You don’t look angry, though as you grab a fistful of little yellow sticks and shove them in your mouth, eyes closing. Watches Sonar and Jetstorm lean over to vent curiously, recoiling when you offer them a bit. “They can’t eat that. Unless you want them purging on you later.”

• “Thank you for taking care of me,” you whisper to the mini-cons and Runway affectionately butts his helm against you before seizing one of the mini energon cubes Starscream is holding out for them. Because you’ve been wanting real food rather than the junk food Star keeps bringing you. Know he’s trying his best, keeps stealing things for you and he’s been working on something lately in a corner of his habsuite, the paneling of the wall and floor pulled up over there. Not sure what he’s up to since he gets flustered when you ask, making you think it has to do with you.

• “I’ve told you that you don’t need to thank me or them for that,” he mutters before taking a deep drink. Aware of you grinning up at him before you turn your attention back on the food, eating much quicker than you normally do to make him feel guilty. Because he’s almost certain he’s doing a terrible job caring for you and you’re just too nice to say anything to him. You seem happier at least with him. When you have your nightmares and he remembers the bruises on your face when he’d found you, the resignation, he thinks about returning to that home he’d found you at. Wanting to find whoever scared you so bad you still can’t shake the fear. Knows he’ll likely never be able to get revenge on his tormentor, but he could remove yours from the face of this world. But if he does and you ever find out, you may not look at him the same way anymore and he can’t risk that. Wants you to keep smiling for him. To be worthy of your trust.

• “I know,” you say, looking up to find him frowning at nothing like he sometimes does. That little show and tell of scars was the most he’s let his guard down and had been enough to understand that he understands you, because he’s suffered at someone else’s hands, too. That he’s been through not exactly the same thing, but something similar enough and he’d not been completely broken by it helps you keep smiling for him. He’s gruff and awkward, but he’s kind. And you want to protect him and that kindness, because it means everything to you.

#transformers x reader #starscream x reader #idw starscream

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corruptedcaps · 2 days ago

Text

Travel Size: Alex

This is a sequel to my last story, Travel Size. Enjoy!

Alex waited impatiently for the bus while refreshing the social media feeds on her phone.

"Thank god, they're still partying." Alex said to herself as she watched a newly posted video on Becky's Instagram. In the video Becky, Cassie and Bianca were all dancing in a club surrounded by hot guys. A part of Alex was jealous but a stronger part of her was thankful that the newly made bitches were keeping themselves distracted.

It had only been a few hours since Alex had witnessed her best friends be turned into evil reflections of themselves. She couldn’t shake the horrifying images of Becky, Bianca, and Cassie transforming into arrogant, wicked versions of themselves.

That was why Alex was waiting on a bus. She needed to get back to college and more specifically she needed to get to Amber's sorority and find whatever regular sized vibrator she had and destroy it. If the travel size could create bitches like Becky and her friends, she shudder to think what a full sized one could unleash.

She didn’t even know if Amber owned a larger one or where she would keep it but she knew once it dawned on Becky that one could exist, then she would stop at nothing to get it. Alex had to destroy it.

After giving up on the bus, Alex hitchhiked most of the way back to their college town and finally arrived at Amber’s sorority house just after 5pm. It was an imposing, over-the-top building, complete with pristine landscaping and a giant Greek-lettered sign on the front but it was also empty thanks to the out of state cheerleading finals. Alex’s heart hammered as she climbed the steps to the door.

As she went to grab the handle of the door it suddenly swung open to reveal the tall, chiseled frame of a guy with sharp green eyes and attractively messy brown hair. Alex knew him as Amber’s trust fund boyfriend Max. His gaze swept over Alex, skeptical and faintly amused.

“Who are you?” He asked, his voice smooth and confident.

Alex stammered, trying to think of a plausible excuse. “Uh… hi, I’m one of your girlfriend’s friends. I, um, left something in her room the last time I was here.”

He smirked faintly. “You’re one of Becky’s friends?” He didn’t even try to hide his disbelief.

Alex panicked, it was worse than she thought. The vibrator had somehow warped reality so Amber wasn’t the top bitch on campus, Becky was. Alex figured she was spared from the memory of this new reality because she was present during its formation. But, she thought, this new world could work in her advantage.

“Okay, okay. The truth is… Becky’s not exactly my friend, not anymore. We used to be friends but then she decided I was better off being her victim. She makes me do her homework. And on the last assignment, I forgot to take my name off it. If she finds out, I’m dead.”

His smirk grew. “So, she’s your bully?”

Alex nodded earnestly, leaning into her pitiful act. “Yeah. Please, I just need to fix it before she gets back. I swear, I’ll be quick.”

He studied her for a long moment, then sighed, stepping aside. “Fine. But make it fast. Becky will kill me if she finds out I let you in.”

Alex rushed past him, her heart pounding. The sorority house was even more intimidating on the inside, filled with pristine furniture, expensive décor, and an air of unearned superiority. She climbed the grand staircase, the sound of her sneakers echoing against the marble floors, and found Becky’s room at the end of the hall.

It was just as she’d imagined, pink and white with designer everything. The bed was piled high with silk pillows, and the vanity sparkled with countless beauty products. Pictures showing Becky, Cassie and Bianca adorned the walls. Alex moved quickly to the nightstand, opening the drawer and rummaging through it until her fingers brushed against something cold and smooth.

She pulled it out and froze. There it was. Amber’s, now Becky’s, full-sized pink vibrator. It was twice the size of the one Becky had used, and its shiny surface gleamed ominously in the dim light. The words ‘Mega-Bitch’ embossed on its surface. Alex didn’t know why, but she knew if she destroyed it everything would go back to normal.

She picked it up carefully, her hands trembling. It looked so absurdly normal, for a vibrator, and yet it radiated an eerie power she could almost feel. She turned it over, inspecting it as if expecting it to spring to life.

“Okay, Alex.” She whispered to herself. “Just snap it in half. Do it. Right now.”

But as she tightened her grip, her eyes caught her reflection in the massive mirror over Becky’s dresser.

She froze. The mirror reflected every insecurity she had tried to ignore. Her plain, unremarkable features, her frizzy hair, her uneven skin, her awkward posture. She looked every bit the nobody she felt she was, standing in the middle of a room that belonged to someone who had everything.

Her breath hitched. The vibrator seemed to hum faintly in her hands, almost as if it were alive, urging her to act.

“Just one time.” A small, insidious voice whispered in the back of her mind. “What’s the harm? You deserve to be beautiful too, don’t you? Confident. Powerful. Somebody.”

Alex’s fingers hovered over the power button, trembling. She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head. She thought of Amber and her bitchy friends, she thought of her own corrupted friends, Becky, Cassie and Bianca. “No, I’m not like them.”

But when she opened her eyes again, the reflection in the mirror seemed to mock her, daring her to prove herself wrong. It looked like her, but the face twisted into a cruel smirk, the kind she’d seen on Amber’s face countless times.

“That’s right.” Her reflection sneered, its voice dripping with malice. “You’re not like them. They’re perfect, beautiful, untouchable. And you?” It laughed, the sound sharp and cutting. “You’re plain. Boring. Ugly. A nobody.”

Alex’s chest tightened as she tried to look away, but her reflection leaned closer, impossibly close, as though it were pressing through the glass.

“You’ll never be anything more than this. They’ll always walk all over you. Always look down on you. Unless…” It hissed

Alex’s breath hitched. “Unless what?”

The reflection’s smirk widened. “Unless you stop pretending you don’t want it. You felt it, didn’t you? The power in your hands. You could be more. No, you could be better. You could be everything. But you’ll never have the guts.”

Alex’s fingers hovered over the power button. “I… I can’t.”

“Of course you can’t. You’re weak. Always have been. Always will be. You don’t have what it takes to be one of them. You’ll always be nothing.” The reflection said, mocking.

Something inside Alex snapped. With a surge of anger, she pressed the button, and the vibrator whirred to life in her hands. The power of the vibration was so strong that her eyes instantly rolled back in her head and her clothes exploded from her body leaving her bare naked. It was a more powerful sensation than Becky had experienced, one designed to instantly enthrall and it worked as her lips curled into a smirk. She was a woman possessed.

Laying down on Becky’s plush bed, Alex lowered the vibrator in between her legs, the vibrator's hum filling her ears as she pressed it against her eager pussy. "Yessss!" She moaned, the sensation overwhelming, igniting a fire within her.

As she continued, her transformation began. Her hair turned from a mousy brown to a mouth-watering platinum blonde cascade, thick and shiny, framing her face in a way that screamed 'hot'. Her lips swelled, becoming juicy and inviting, perfect for both seduction and sneers. Her nails lengthened, sharp and glossy, adding to her newfound, bratty look.

"Fuck, yesssss!" She groaned, her breasts expanding, becoming fuller, rounder, making her silhouette undeniably sexy. The change in her body was not just physical, it was as if each vibration was sculpting her into something more... bitchy, more dominant.

"Yes, make me into an evil bitch! Make me into THE evil bitch!" She hissed, her voice filled with a provocative edge. Her skin seemed to glow, becoming flawless and tempting, the kind of beauty that could make anyone falter.

Her moans grew louder, more demanding, as if each sound was peeling away layers of her former self. "Fuck, yesssss, Becky and Amber are fucking nothing compared to what I’ll be!" She yelled, her body writhing in ecstasy, the pleasure morphing her into someone unrecognizable. Her curves became more pronounced, her posture more confident, her entire being radiating an aura of superiority.

As her orgasm crashed over her, it was like the final seal on her new identity. Her good nature was gone, replaced by a cold disdain, her vanity now immense, her once gentle soul now filled with a bratty, bitchy darkness.

All the pictures in the room changed to images of her. No friends, just her. All she needed was herself.

"Pathetic." She sneered at the thought of her old self, her new voice dripping with scorn. "I was such a waste before. Now, everyone will see, everyone will know... I am the queen."

Sitting up, her reflection was no longer mocking her. It was her, and it grinned back at her with the same ferocity she felt inside. Alex was no more. In her place was a vision of sexy, unapologetic power, ready to cast her shadow over the campus, leaving a trail of awe and submission in her wake. She was Lexi now.

After her transformation, Alex walked over to her new closet with graceful and assured strides. She took pleasure in imagining herself in each of the expensive and revealing outfits but eventually she selected items that would showcase her new, sexy persona.

First, she slipped into a white lace bra that cradled her now fuller, more voluptuous breasts, the delicate material contrasting sharply with her transformed body. The bra seemed almost too small, hugging her curves in a way that was both provocative and flattering.

Next, she pulled on a short black skirt, the hemline daringly high, revealing her shapely legs. The fabric clung to her hips, accentuating her figure in a way that screamed for attention. Her hands then glided over her legs as she donned shear lace black tights, their intricate pattern adding a layer of mystery and danger to her ensemble.

She sat back on the bed, snapping pictures of herself, admiring her reflection. The outfit transformed her into the epitome of seductive power, her previous nerdy self now just a distant memory.

"Look at me, I'm perfect." She whispered to her reflection, her voice a mix of pride and the new, bratty confidence.

Max had heard the moans and, concerned, decided to check on Alex. What he found was not the nerdy girl he had let in but a transformed vision, a beautiful goddess.

For a second his mind was awash with confusion until reality settled in his mind and new memories solidified. Lexi was the baddest bitch on campus, a beautiful terror who dripped of bratty arrogance and she was all his.

He still remembered when he brought her to meet his rich parents and how quickly they took to her but he remembered that night more for Lexi’s ability to give him a handjob under the dinner table without his parents realizing.

"What some company?" Max asked, his voice smooth and confident.

Lexi looked at him, her eyes drinking him in. Her new body ached to be touched and worshipped by another. He would do. Without a word, she curled her finger, beckoning him closer with a smirk that promised both danger and pleasure.

As Max stood before her, she reached up, pulling him into a deep, passionate kiss. Their lips met with an intensity that spoke of desire and conquest. Lexi's hands roamed over Max's body, pulling him onto the bed with her.

"Fuck me like you've never fucked anyone." Lexi whispered into his ear, her voice a sultry command.

Max, overwhelmed by the raw sexuality she exuded, didn't need any encouragement. His hands explored her newly curvaceous form as she undid his pants. Lexi moaned, her voice now a mix of pleasure and triumph as she felt his big cock slide into her, his thrusts deep and rhythmic.

Their bodies moved in sync, each movement more desperate than the last. Lexi wrapped her legs around him, pulling him deeper, her nails digging into his back as she arched into him, meeting his every thrust with equal fervor. The room filled with the sounds of their passion, her moans mixing with his grunts, the bed creaking under their intensity.

Lexi felt powerful, each movement a step towards taking what she wanted. She looked into Max's eyes, her own filled with a victorious gleam. "Harder you big dick bastard!" She urged, her voice dripping with a mix of need and command. Max, lost in the moment, obeyed, driving into her with a force that made her scream in ecstasy.

As Max felt the familiar tension building towards climax, Lexi, with a mischievous glint in her eye, suddenly reoriented their positions, pushing his back onto the bed so she could mount him. Her pussy expertly gripping his cock, holding his orgasm at bay. He groaned, the pleasure almost too much to bear, yet there he was, teetering on the edge without release.

"What are you doing?" Max managed to ask, his voice strained with need.

Lexi leaned close, her breath hot against his ear. "I'll let you cum, if you let me stick this up your ass as you do." She said with a grin as she produced the big vibrator.

Max shook his head, trying to resist the overwhelming sensation. "No way! If the guys find out I’ll never hear it down." He gasped out, though his body betrayed his words, craving the release.

With a grin that was both seductive and cruel, Lexi began to lift herself off him. "Okay, then, suit yourself." She said, her tone teasing, starting to dismount.

But Max couldn't let her go. The need to cum was too intense, his body overriding his fear of reprisal. With a desperate move, he pulled her back down onto him. "Fine! Do whatever you want!" He pleaded, his resolve crumbling under the pressure of his unfulfilled desire.

Lexi's grin widened, enjoying the power she wielded over him. She leaned in, her lips brushing against his as she whispered, "Good boy. You’ll love it, I swear."

She inserted the vibrator into his butt while his cock was still deep inside her. She didn't turn it on immediately, instead, she began to move her hips in slow, teasing circles, keeping him on the edge, prolonging his torment for her own amusement.

"Please!" Max begged, his hands gripping her hips, trying to guide her movements.

“Please what?” Lexi said enjoying watching him squirm.

“Please… turn it on.” He groaned, desperate for sweet release.

With an evil grin she switched it on and Max began to shudder with ecstasy as but then felt an immediate, strange sensation. As the vibrations coursed through him, his body began to change. His features softened, his skin became smoother, his hair lengthened and darkened into a rich, flowing mane. His muscles reshaped, and his frame became more slender, more feminine.

“W-what the hell is happening to me?” Max whine, his voice going up several octaves. Lexi simply smirked as she felt his cock shrink inside her, gradually disappearing until it was replaced by a slick, new pussy.

The transformation was surreal for Lexi but weirdly erotic as well but what happened next pumped the erotism into high gear. The vibrator, now buzzing without her hand on it, suddenly grew pink bands that wrapped themselves around her waist, turning into an impressive strap-on.

"Mmmm now, let's see how you like it." Lexi said with a smirk, beginning to thrust with the new strap-on. Max, now Maxine, felt waves of pleasure unlike anything she had known before, her body responding in ways she never could have imagined.

"Please, Lexi!" Maxine moaned, her voice now higher, more feminine, filled with both confusion and ecstasy.

Lexi continued, her movements deliberate, claiming her new conquest. "You're mine now bitch, in every way! I’m your queen." She whispered, her voice dripping with dominance and satisfaction as she watched Maxine's transformation continue under her influence.

However the strap-on itself started to evolve even more. The base started to grow backwards towards Lexi, creating a long thick shaft that slithered into her pussy. Lexi’s eyes rolled back in pleasure and she felt a euphoria like nothing she had felt before. The vibrator seemed to speak to her, giving itself to her. It recognized her as a true wicked bitch for her act of transforming Max and opened her mind to its power and its secrets.

Lexi came again but this time it was as much a mental release as a physical one. She could see the way the vibrator could warp reality, how it could twist people it corrupted and she now had control over it. She would make Maxine’s new reality whatever she wanted.

The pleasure built, and with a final, deep thrust, Maxine reached her orgasm, her new body shuddering in delight, her new persona erasing Max entirely from her own mind and from reality.

In this reality, Maxine was Lexi’s cum slave, who lived to please her mistress and do everything that she commanded. She was her devoted little pet. Lexi would send Maxine to prowl the campus for hot guys and round them up for parties. Maxine was an expert at finding the hottest, richest guys that would vie for Lexi's attention.

However, Lexi had a new group in mind to round up for her now.

“Maxine, I have a special job for you. I need you to bring me Amber, Becky, Cassie and Bianca one by one to my room when they come back from their trip. Do you understand?” Lexi said as she pulled out of Maxine making the girl groan.

“Y-yes mistress. But why those four? They are just common sisters of the sorority.” Maxine asked.

Lexi stood up from the bed and walked once again to the closet. Her outfit had been ruined by the energetic fucking and she needed a change. Once opened she spotted a shiny reflective dress that would be perfect for the rest of the evening, no matter how 'energetic' she would become.

After doing a few twirls, approving all her angles, she strode over to Maxine with the vibrator in hand. As she walked in her 6 inches heels the straps flowed back into it and disappeared as if they had never been there. Although Lexi knew she could make them appear if she wanted. She felt a symbiotic link to the device now that Amber never had.

“Take this and use it on yourself.” Lexi grinned holding out the vibrator.

Maxine looked at the vibrator with reverence and even desire but she couldn’t bring herself to even stretch her arm out.

“N-no mistress. I couldn’t.” Maxine said dropping her head. Lexi smirked and put the vibrator into her side drawer.

“That’s why I want those girls specifically brought to me. They need to… reconditioned. But don’t worry, you’ll still be my number one slave.” Lexi said as she tilted Maxine’s chin up.

“Now go, they won’t be back for at least a day and I have some planning to do.” Lexi said her brief moment of warmth turning icy cold again.

Maxine rose from the bed and left the room quickly. Lexi loved the power she now had over her and couldn’t wait to break in the other girls.

She looked at her wicked reflection and it seemed to smile back and gesture to the side drawer. “Mmm why not, I deserve it.” She smirked as she opened the drawer and took out the vibrator and held it in her hand. Only this time she didn’t press it to make it rumble, instead it seemed to come on based on her thoughts. Even the button had disappeared.

As she slipped it into her wanting pussy she knew her reign was only starting and no one would be able to take it from her.

#f2f #corruption #bitchification #magic #evil bitch #evil couple #power transfer #cc2025 #travelsize #corrupted item

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melodyanqel · 1 day ago

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𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐏 ── ✦ h.ih.

a pretty little thing, who grew up extremely sheltered and has never seen the horrors in life until she gets recuited in a mysterious competition.

⤷ pairing: hwang in-ho x fem!oc

⤷ genre/tags: fluff, angst, thriller, psychological drama, established relationship, games, action, financial issues, gambling, betrayal, team bonding, family, possessive!sadistic!in-ho, sheltered!sunshine!oc

⤷ warning: mention of character's death

⤷ wc: 1.3k words

⤷ note: this first chapter is so fluffy and a bit emotional but i had fun writing it and i said to myself no prologue just go right into the story

⤷ melodyanqel taglist: @buckitostan

The café's honeyed hues bring sweetness to the day, coaxing an inner smile that warms from within.

Behind the counter, a young woman in her twenties is hard at work and her presence brightens the atmosphere like the glowing sun. Myung Yu-na is her name. She enjoys being a barista because she loves creating unique and delicious drinks. It may sound strange to many but sometimes not-so-extravagant things can be a passion.

The happy-go-lucky Yu-na is viewed as too pure, wholesome, and, most importantly, very sheltered. Even though she still lives with her parents and they allow her to work and make some money for herself, Yu-na is too protected from the harsh realities and circumstances of the real world. Not once in her life has she seen or experienced any of it.

Despite her lack of exposure, she is still a wonderful person. It did take a lot of courage and effort to convince her parents that she wanted to make decisions for herself until she reached adulthood. Yu-na will always love them and be grateful for everything they’ve done for her since she was born.

“Yu-na! A customer is at the register!”

“Okay!”

She responds to her co-worker and a small grunt escapes her lips when putting the pesky lid on a mocha chocolate frappuccino. She calls out the order and the person’s name. Yu-na sees them approaching the counter. “Thank you, miss.” A sweet-looking elderly woman thanks her before taking her drink.

Yu-na shows a kind smile. “You’re welcome. Have a great afternoon,” She said, cordially. “You too, miss.” The older woman returns the smile and leaves the place.

Shortly after, Yu-na walks to the register to place the next order. “What can I get for you?” She asked a tall man dressed in dark clothes with a cap over his head, covering half of their face. She hears his deep, gruff voice speak. “Yu-na, how have you been?” He gives her a question. The young woman furrowed her brows with a confused look.

Instantly, she gasps when he lifts the cap to reveal his face. Her dark brown eyes widened owlishly. “Oh my goodness! Uncle Gi-hun!” Yu-na says the man’s name in shock. A small smile plays on his wrinkled face. Hearing her angelic voice in so long makes him elated.

Gi-hun’s niece responds, “I’m doing good. I’ll explain more when my lunch break starts in ten minutes. But I need your order.” She giggles blithely, her uncle almost forgot his coffee. Gi-hun clears his throat, “Yes. One warm Americano, please.” He said. Yu-na punches in his order on the register and gives him the price. She receives his money to pay for the drink and has him wait until it gets done.

Within those ten minutes, Yu-na served Gi-hun’s Americano and three more customers. The uncle watches his niece do her best at being quick on her feet, kindly greeting people, and saying goodbye to them. Gi-hun was once like Yu-na before his life became what it is now. His youth was living a simple life with his mother and friends. If only he hadn’t made those mistakes and thrown his well-being away. Gi-hun’s expression downcasted.

The winner of the game has the money he desires for a long time, but it’s meaningless to him. Gi-hun will forever feel tainted by the thought and look of the stacks of cash in his space, which is a rundown motel.

Momentarily, his train of thought gets interrupted. “I’m ready! Where do you want to start?” Yu-na happily has her cooked ramen cup and sits across from her uncle. He shifts his sitting position to face her with his back leaning against the chair. “How is everyone? Do you hear much from your aunt?” Gi-hun hops onto the topic of family. He does miss his sister-in-law or his ex-wife’s sister. Even though Gi-hun was never on good terms with Eun-ji after Ga-yeong came into the world, he does get along with her sister Yu-bin.

“Omma and appa are doing well. The bakery is still in business and they finally realized I should start my own life. I get that I’m a late bloomer, but I’ll keep on learning. Also, Auntie Eun-ji, I haven’t spoken to her since she left around 2021. It is much more difficult because of the time difference and adjusting to a new lifestyle.” Yu-na delivered a full response or an update about herself. She slurps on her noodles like a happy child.

Gi-hun sighed and nodded. “I see. Well, good for your parents I find it fascinating how they can keep running a business before you were born.” He chuckles dryly because he used to own businesses but failed to manage them properly. “I can understand not seeing your aunt as much. I wish to contact Ga-yeong more but I know her mother doesn’t want her to. But anyway, I’m glad you all are doing fine.” Gi-hun sips on his Americano and feels content, like a regular person.

He has been out of touch with closure. It must be a miracle that Yu-na is unknowingly helping him.

As they continued to talk, Gi-hun discovered new things about his niece. She has done a lot these past years; majoring in digital marketing because she gravitates towards creating her brand of art and clothes, making new friends, and going out more. Gi-hun can tell it’s a family thing to build your own business. He is even proud that she is becoming an independent woman.

“How about you uncle? My family and I have been wondering where you’ve been. I’m also sorry for your omma.” Yu-na questions about his absence and she couldn’t help but mention his mother. It was devastating when she and her family received the news about her death because she practically raised both Yu-na and Ga-yeong.

The older man answers the best he can to make it sound convincing. “I’ve been working overseas because I decided to wake up and find a better job. And I did. I’ve earned more than I usually get during my gambling days, which are done for. I got so busy that I couldn’t be at home as often. I then started to get homesick so I’m doing more of my duties here.” Gi-hun doesn’t want to look crazy in front of Yu-na if he talks about the game and has been searching for the so-called salesman.

As a pure and innocent girl, she takes his response as the truth.

“I also took the time to heal when my omma passed. But thank you for your condolence.” Gi-hun truly appreciates Yu-na’s sympathy. She says to him, “Oh wow! I hope you are proud of what you are doing. I’m sure your omma is too from above.” Her beautiful face draws a reassuring smile.

Gi-hun feels the warmth spread across his cold, dark heart. He hopes Yu-na will never forget herself. She is still young, vibrant, and has a long life ahead.

Thirty minutes felt so short, but it was worth having a moment of peace and freedom. Before Yu-na goes back to work, she sees her uncle standing up from the chair and moves aside with open arms. She mirrors his actions and to enter a long-awaited hug. It was comforting and full of love. He needed this.

When they pull away from the embrace, Gi-hun says one last thing before leaving the café. “Good luck with everything that you are doing. And remember this, please make good decisions because I know it’s hard being careful but I know you’re smart and can handle anything. Stay safe out there.” He doesn’t know whether this will be their first and last time together, but he believes she’ll follow his advice.

Yu-na delivers a merry smile. “Alright, uncle. Thank you for making my day.” She expressed joy that brought fondness in Gi-hun's dark gaze. “You’re welcome. I hope to see you again.” The uncle bids his farewell to his niece who nods her head in a silent yet sincere response.

She hopes to see him again as well.

series masterlist | two

#squid game #squid game fic #squid game fanfic #squid game in ho #in ho squid game #in ho x reader #in ho x you #in-ho x reader #hwang in ho #in ho #hwang in ho x reader #hwang in ho x you #hwang in-ho x reader #hwang in ho fanfic #front man #the frontman #squid game front man

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 days ago

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A Guiding Hand 9

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, parental neglect, depression, inference of self harm, violence, abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your online academics are affected by your personal struggles but your professor won’t let you give up so easy.

Characters: Raymond Smith, Lee Bodecker in the background

Note: I slept in which hasn't happened in ages.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The world lurches to a halt. Your eyes flick open and you take in the white brick of the city station before you. Your shoulder is against the train window, your head slumped, and you are stolidly warm. You blink again and shift to sit straight. You look down at the tweed blazer draped across your front.

“We’ve arrived,” Professor Smith declares as he fixes his glasses.

“I... I’m sorry. I fell asleep,” you croak and gently push his jacket off, smoothing it then holding it out to him. The armrest between you has been flipped up. “Thank you, sir.”

He grunts, likely at the use of the formal epithet. You just don’t feel right calling him by his name. He takes his blazer, “not at all. You needed the rest. I only thought you might be cold as they had the air on high.”

“Thank you,” you repeat again. Things aren’t so different, are they? You’re still a burden. You still have nothing to give but take all you can get.

“We will wait for the rush to pass,” he stays as he is as the other passengers rise and shrug into sweaters or jackets and take down their bags from compartments.

You are in no hurry to go, you’re not quite sure what awaits you and the general public has always reminded you of your greatest insecurities. You see the women with their styled hair, winged liners, and sleek outfits. They are all put together meanwhile you feel as if you’re falling apart.

Raymond stands only as the aisle clears and puts on his blazer. He brings down the bags and steps back for you to sidle out. You walk ahead of him gawkishly, unsure of where to go beyond the train. An attendant helps you onto the platform and you turn to look at your escort as he steps down coolly.

“We’ll fetch a taxi to see us home. I’ll have you settled soon enough. I’m certain you cannot wait to be still.” He says.

You nod and shrug, then offer another wilted ‘thank you.’

He guides you through the station and out the front doors. There’s a row of cabs waiting for the arrivals. He claims one and the driver helps in getting the luggage in the trunk. You don’t have much more than that duffel he took of your thrifted clothing.

You cradle your injured hand as you pass through the city streets. It’s a beautiful place. Vibrant, huge, much more than the gray town you spent your life in. The curated hedges and bunches of petals, the endless business marquees and the arched park entrances put to shame all you know. It feels like a dream; the sort of fantasy only written or crafted onto film.

Raymond is quiet, pensive as you peek over at him. His golden hair shines in the sunlight that peers through the window. He watches the windshield past the seat. Just look at him, you feel out of place. His refined attire, his straight posture, he is precise in every way.

As the ride stretches on, you worry. The city thins as you reach the outer bounds and the sprawling greens are specked with large homesteads. The driver slows and pulls up a long drive, capped by a set of iron gates. The house behind the bars is a mansion and half.

Raymond fiddles with his phone and the gates open on a motor. The driver pulls through and rolls all the way up before the front steps. You gape up at the immense modern castle. This is all his? This is beyond anything you’ve ever seen with your own eyes.

The driver opens your door as Raymond lets himself out. You climb out and stand to the side awkwardly. You don’t belong in a place like this.

The trunk snaps as your eyes cling to the grand facade. Raymond thanks the driver before the tires roll back toward the gate. He waits until the taxi is gone and then the gates whir shut. He steps up next to you with the bags in hand.

“Go on,” he nudges you softly with his elbow.

“This...” you pause and look at him. He’s older than you. And established. He must have a whole life aside from this disaster of a student he pities to the point of charity. “I don’t know. Your family... wouldn’t they be upset?”

He looks at you keenly with his pale blue eyes, “it’s only me.”

You frown and face the house again. Oh. You didn’t mean to presume, you just thought...

“I’m sor--”

“Ah,” he quiets you. “No more of that. I’m rather content in my solace. Now, you need settling. You’ve been through enough.”

You grumble and nod. Your shame and self-pity keeps you speechless. He’s confusing to you. How can he not see how pathetic you are? Why is he doing all this?

You ascend the steps next to him. He goes ahead of you only as you reach the doors and he pushes the left one inward, waving you through first. You enter, shoulders and head down, and stay on the mat as the polished floors gleam around you.

You sway in horror. What must he have thought of your mother’s apartment? And he went into your room to fetch your clothing? Ugh, he must think you entirely helpless and disgusting. You cover your face without a thought.

“Dear, are you unwell?” He asks as the bags drop on the bench heavily.

“Um,” you part your fingers then peel them away. “No, I...” you chew your lip and put your arms at your side, “it’s a very pretty house. Big.”

“Yes, so it is. Try not to get lost,” he snorts. “I’ll show you where you can hang your hat, in a manner of speaking, but first, shoes.”

You look down at your sneakers. Right. You bend to untie the stained laces. The applique is falling away from the seams and the treads are streaked and scuffed with dirt. You wiggle them off and put them over on the tidy shoe rack.

Raymond tucks his leather shoes away and scoops up the bags once more. You wait for him to guide you. He steps ahead of you and you trail him.

“I’ll give you a brief lay of the land,” he proclaims as he leads you through an open square doorway. Beyond is a high-ceilinged room which could contain your mother’s entire apartment. “The den or sitting room, whatever you might call it. Feel welcome to spend your leisure here. I’m afraid I never use the telly much.”

He stops as you peer around. You try not to show your awe but it’s all so fancy and sleek. The TV is mounted to the wall above a fireplace and the leather furniture is puckered and perfectly place, along with the wood and brass accoutrements that decorate the space.

“The kitchen as well.” He herds you onward into the hall and down to the kitchen at the rear of the house. It is as refined as the rest of the house, vast even; so many cupboards, a large island, and all the appliances you could dream of. “Don’t hesitate to help yourself. I am rather fond of cooking so I don’t mind at all. Or if you would need some assistance with anything, I’ll be more than happy to help.”

“Oh, thanks,” you fold your arm to your chest and wring your wrist with your other hand.

“And should you require anything, I’m certain you will, you may simply let me know,” he says. “I assume you would like to be in one place for what’s left of the day. I cannot blame you. I am fatigued of the upending myself.”

He takes you down the hall and back to the foyer. You follow him up the stairs that bend halfway and down another hallway that overlooks the entry over the banister. He stops at a door and nods. You sheepishly move to open it yourself as he keeps hold of the bags.

You swing the door open gently and peek inside. You turn and reach for the bag, “I can--”

“I’ve got it,” he insists and steps through. He lays the bag on the desk in the corner. “The maid comes daily. I will inform her to knock. This is you space.”

“Oh,” you utter.

“My room is further down, at the very end, should you need to find me, though I am more often in my office, between this door and mine,” he explains, “a loo across from you as well.”

“Yes, sir,” you twiddle your fingers and look around. The room is amazing. The daylight beams through the sheer curtains and lights up the decor. Gold and ivory, brighter than the rustic tones of the first floor.

“I will leave you to your own devices. I’ve smothered you, haven’t I?” He nears the door. “If you are up to it, I will be preparing dinner for six.” He checks his watch and clucks. “Do you prefer steak or chicken?”

You wet your lips and stare at the doorway behind him. “Whatever you like, I'll eat... I could help--”

“You will rest. Your hand needs healing. Your spirit too.” He girds. “There is a tub as well, and all you should need with it. Salts and the like.”

“Thanks, um, I think I’ll just... rest.”

“There’s the bookshelf as well,” he points. “Thought you mightn’t agree with my taste, help yourself to the selection.”

“Okay,” you murmur.

“Very well, then,” he dips his chin and turns on his heel.

He struts out and shuts the door in his stead. You stare at it. Dread curdles around you and makes you shudder.

You shouldn’t feel worse, should you? But you do. He has such a nice life, a gorgeous house, a wonderful job. You don’t know why he should disturb it by inviting you in from the cold?

Maybe he’s one of those people who uses those beneath him to build himself up. You’re a pet project for this man bored with his perfect existence. That must be it. After all, no man’s ever wanted anything from you but to make themselves feel big.

You turn and cross the room. You stand at the window and gaze out at the lawn. Your eyes tinge with tears. You are still a slug. Still filth. You don’t want to stain his obsessively clean haven.

Your legs wobble and you back away from the window. You stagger to the desk and sit in the swivelly chair. You lean your elbow on the desk and inhale with a quake. You hold your head as the memories swell in your head.

Lee on top of you, hurting you, then all at once, chaos. Your mother, so helpless, so apathetic in her addiction, that she couldn’t do anything but squeal. He witnessed it all.

How can he bear it? How can he be near dirt like you? The way he sanitizes everything around him, and himself. The intense attention to detail and spite for those out of order. You can’t live up to all that. You’re going to cross a line sooner or later and then what happens?

You have no way home. He brought you here, on his dime. Now you owe him. As you always owed your mother just for being born, for being useless, a loser. That’s what Lee said and he wasn’t the first to do so.

You shakily wipe under your eyes with your knuckle. You’re lost. You’ve always been, but right now, you are off in a desolate land.

He might mean well. He might be honest, but that doesn’t make you feel any less a burden. That doesn’t take away the taint you’ve always carried. There’s no place for you in this world. Trying to find it, trying to better yourself, that proved it to you. You failed again and no matter what he believes or does, you’ll fail him too.

You fail at whatever he expects of you. What that is, is a mystery. He’s seen what you are. Where you come from. You hide your face behind your hand and gulp as you think about it.

#raymond smith #dark raymond smith #dark!raymond smith #raymond smith x reader #series #a guiding hand #the gentlemen #fic #dark fic #dark!fic

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