#actually this one isn’t really defense… wow

[thedensworld]

Gentle Daddy | C. Sc

Pairing: Scoups x reader

Genre: fluff, parent au

Summary: welcome aboard to the threenager stage of Seungcheol's son and how he parents him.

Seungcheol was seventeen when he met Chan, the youngest of their group. Was Chan a little brother? Yes. But at the start? Not quite. To Seungcheol, Chan was just another kid, someone he had to look after out of duty rather than choice.

As the oldest in their group, Seungcheol often became the subject of jokes about his strict ways. “Everyone, if you don’t wake up on three, I’ll give you 10 more laps of running,” Seungkwan teased, mimicking Seungcheol's commanding tone from their training days, complete with a mock-serious expression that drew laughter.

“Seungcheol hyung definitely needs someone gentle to balance that out,” Chan piped up with a cheeky grin. But before he could finish, Seungcheol raised an eyebrow and asked, “Balance what?”

Chan swallowed nervously, waving his hand dismissively as the others burst into laughter. “No, no, I was talking to myself,” he stammered.

But now, Seungcheol stood in a different scene, holding his three-year-old son, Wontae, on his arm during his birthday party. The house was filled with chatter and laughter, the kind only close friends could bring.

“Your interior is beautiful, Seungcheol. Come over and do mine next,” Jeonghan quipped, throwing a casual compliment with a hint of a request. Seungcheol rolled his eyes, scoffing.

“Appa did my room too!” Wontae beamed proudly at Jeonghan. Jeonghan’s features softened as he reached out and ruffled the boy’s hair. “Your appa is very talented, isn’t he?”

Seungcheol discovered his passion for interior design when he was searching online for the perfect nursery layout for Wontae. But nothing he found could match the vision in his mind. After discussing it with you, he decided to take matters into his own hands. Trips to the hardware store turned into projects that filled his weekends: crafting custom cabinets, building desks, and designing coffee tables.

In preparation for the party, Seungcheol went all out—rearranging furniture, painting walls, and adding small decorative touches that showcased his new hobby.

“It’s almost as good as Mingyu’s house,” Jeonghan said with a mischievous smirk. Seungcheol chuckled, nodding in agreement. “I think taking care of others did that to me. Just like how Mingyu took care of everything for us back in the day.”

“I want to get down,” Wontae said, squirming in his father’s arms. Seungcheol gently set him down, watching with a smile as his son darted over to Wonwoo, who was showing him a video game on his phone.

“He’s going to be three, wow!” Jeonghan remarked, shaking his head in disbelief. “It feels like just yesterday when I first held him.”

“How is it like?” Jeonghan asked, a rare tone of seriousness in his voice.

Seungcheol sighed, his lips curving into a soft smile. “Go get married and have one yourself,” he said playfully.

“Jeonghan’s getting married?” Your voice chimed in as you returned from putting Wonna, your four-month-old daughter, to sleep. Both Seungcheol and Jeonghan turned toward you. Seungcheol’s eyes softened as he reached for your waist, pulling you gently into his side.

“Is she asleep?” he asked, concern blending with affection. You nodded, resting a hand on his chest.

“Don’t listen to him,” Jeonghan interjected, rolling his eyes but unable to hide the smile tugging at his lips.

“I feel really bad that you’re going through all of this right after giving birth, just for his birthday party,” Jeonghan joked, glancing around at the well-decorated room. The party was being held the day after Seungcheol’s birthday, even though Wontae’s actual birthday was next week.

“I told you, it’s for Wontae!” Seungcheol insisted, his tone defensive but playful.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Jeonghan, I gave birth four months ago. Besides, I’m grateful that Joshua and Mingyu helped with the food prep.” You nodded toward Joshua and Mingyu, who were now joined by Jihoon in the kitchen, scrubbing dishes and joking with each other.

Suddenly, a tiny voice interrupted the grown-up conversation. “Look what Uncle Hoshi got me! It’s a matching tiger onesie for me and Wonna!” Wontae announced proudly, holding up the tiny outfit with wide eyes full of excitement.

Seungcheol’s eyes flicked to Hoshi, who was now rolling on the floor, laughing at Wontae’s reaction. The older man couldn’t help but smirk, shaking his head.

You smiled and turned to Seungcheol. “I’ll go help him with his present,” you said, squeezing his arm before walking over to your son.

Jeonghan, still standing beside Seungcheol, gave him a knowing pat on the shoulder. “You know, it’s great you married Y/N. I never thought I’d see the day when the legendary Seungcheol, the training tyrant, would become the poster child for gentle parenting.”

Seungcheol scoffed, turning to Jeonghan with a mock glare. “A monster? Really? You’re one to talk,” he protested, crossing his arms but unable to suppress the grin threatening to break through.

Jeonghan just laughed, throwing his hands up in surrender. “Hey, I’m just stating the facts. Besides, we all know you wouldn’t be half as patient if it weren’t for her.”

Seungcheol glanced across the room where you were now helping Wontae into the tiger onesie, a soft smile crossing his face. The room buzzed with laughter and warmth, the chaos of their little family perfectly imperfect.

*

Seungcheol woke up a bit late this morning, the warm glow of the morning sun filtering through the curtains. A soft smile spread across his face as he took in the sight of his family already gathered at the dining table for breakfast. The sound of Wontae’s cheerful voice filled the room when he spotted his dad entering.

“Appa!” Wontae called out with excitement, his tiny hands waving eagerly. Seungcheol walked over and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Wontae’s head before his eyes found Wonna, cradled in your arms, contentedly finishing her second bottle of the day.

“Wonna Wonna~ did you sleep well, my princess?” Seungcheol cooed, his heart melting at the sight of his daughter’s chubby cheeks. Wonna wriggled in your embrace, her eyes lighting up as she recognized her father’s voice.

“You had breakfast, love?” Seungcheol’s gaze shifted to you, his tone laced with concern. You shook your head with a soft smile. “I was waiting for you.”

He grinned, taking Wonna gently from your arms. “I’ll play with Wonna for a bit. Go have your breakfast.”

You nodded, appreciating his thoughtful gesture, and sat down to enjoy breakfast with Wontae. After some quality playtime with Wonna and tucking her back into her crib for a nap, Seungcheol returned to the dining room. By then, Wontae had retreated to his bedroom, engrossed in the toys his uncles had gifted him.

“Wontae loves Mingyu’s gift,” Seungcheol said with a chuckle, recalling how his son had immediately fallen in love with the plush corgi toy Mingyu had brought him. It was amusing how Wontae adored anything Mingyu gave, no matter what it was.

You laughed as you finished your meal. “Of course he does. He’s your son, after all. It makes sense he’d have a special bond with Mingyu.”

Seungcheol joined in your laughter, the sound warm and genuine. “Thanks, love,” he said when you placed a steaming bowl of rice and soup in front of him.

“Is your head still dizzy?” you asked, sitting beside him to keep him company while he ate.

He sighed, a touch of guilt crossing his features. “Not as much, but I really need to cut down on my drinking.” A rueful smile followed. “I still don’t get how you don’t drink at all—not even a beer.”

You smiled, amused by his amazement. “The last time I drank was before I got pregnant with Wontae,” you reminded him. Seungcheol’s eyes widened as the memory came rushing back—it had been at Joshua’s birthday party.

“Right!” he said, letting out a soft chuckle at the recollection.

Before he could say more, Wontae’s voice rang out, echoing through the hallway. “Eomma! Come here!” He came running into the dining room, eyes sparkling with excitement as he tugged at your hand, eager for you to join him in his room.

“How about we stay here and keep Appa company while he finishes eating?” you suggested gently, but Wontae shook his head, determination written all over his little face.

“No! I want to show you my drawing!” he insisted, practically bouncing on his feet. “Uncle Chan gave me crayons, and there are so many colors! Even five different blues!”

You exchanged a knowing look with Seungcheol, your heart swelling at Wontae’s joy. “Alright, let’s see your masterpiece,” you said, getting up and giving Seungcheol a reassuring smile before following your son.

Five minutes later, you returned to the dining room, barely suppressing your laughter. Seungcheol had just finished eating and looked up, curiosity piqued by your expression.

“You should see what he’s done in there,” you said, eyes twinkling with amusement.

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What did he do this time?”

“You need to see it for yourself,” you urged, playfully nudging him in the direction of Wontae’s room. “I’ll take care of the dishes.”

With a grin, Seungcheol pushed back his chair, eager to see what kind of adventure awaited him in his son’s room.

Seungcheol opened Wontae's room and was greeted by the sight of his son enthusiastically coloring in his new book, using the crayons Chan had gifted him. The vibrant hues danced across the pages, a mix of scribbles and childlike shapes. Wontae’s eyes lit up when he noticed his father standing at the door. He bounded over, grabbing Seungcheol’s hand and pulling him toward his little art corner.

“Look, Appa! I drew a rock!” Wontae exclaimed, pride beaming from his small face.

Seungcheol’s eyes followed Wontae’s pointing finger until they landed on the wall. Oh my god. There, on the freshly painted surface, was a child’s drawing—a colorful depiction of what was presumably a rock, sketched in bold crayon strokes.

He froze, processing the situation. So this was why you had insisted he see it for himself. He could practically hear the smile in your voice when you said it.

“You drew on the wall?” he asked, keeping his voice as steady as possible.

Wontae nodded innocently. “But Eomma said it’s better to draw on the coloring book, so now I draw here. But sometimes it gets boring, Appa!”

Seungcheol felt a wave of relief wash over him. So you caught him and told him to stop. Thank god.

He closed his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath to quell the frustration bubbling beneath the surface. Remember, Seungcheol, they don’t know better. They don’t understand how much work it is to paint a wall.

“Yes, your eomma is right. Drawing on your coloring book is best.” He sat down on the floor beside Wontae, the urge to scold replaced by the desire to guide. “Show me more of your drawings here.”

Wontae beamed at the invitation, plopping down next to his father and eagerly flipping through the pages of his coloring book. Seungcheol couldn’t help but smile as he watched his son’s eyes sparkle with excitement, oblivious to any worry or consequence.

Every time Seungcheol’s eyes strayed to the drawing on the wall, a chuckle escaped his lips. It was ridiculous! He wanted to be mad, really mad, but he just couldn’t muster it. “You know you shouldn’t draw on the wall, right?” he asked his son, carefully suppressing the instinct to say, “I just painted that! Why did you draw on it?!” in a booming voice that would only frighten the boy. He took a deep breath, holding back the frustration that threatened to spill out.

Wontae looked up at his father’s face, his eyes wide with curiosity as he noticed something unusual. “Why is your face red, Appa?” he asked, putting down his crayon and reaching up with his tiny hands to cup Seungcheol’s flushed cheeks. Seungcheol let out another soft chuckle, his anger melting further.

“You know Appa loves this house, right?” Seungcheol said, his tone remaining gentle and warm.

Wontae nodded, his little head bobbing earnestly.

“No one in this house draws on the walls because Appa worked hard to keep them nice and clean,” Seungcheol explained, still smiling softly despite the chaos inside him.

Wontae bit his lip, his eyes beginning to glisten with tears. “Are you mad at me for drawing on the wall?” His voice trembled as he spoke, and Seungcheol’s heart lurched. Panic surged through him—he was the one who felt like crying, not his son!

“I didn’t say I’m mad at you,” Seungcheol said quickly.

“But your face says it…” Wontae mumbled, the quiver in his voice growing more pronounced.

Oh no. Shit.

“Eommaaaa!” Wontae suddenly burst out, tears streaming down his cheeks as he ran toward you. Seungcheol’s eyes darted to the doorway where you were standing, suppressing a smile as you scooped up your tearful son into your arms.

“Why? What happened?” you asked Wontae in a whisper, stroking his back to soothe him.

“Your father wasn’t mad at you, was he?” you asked softly, glancing over at Seungcheol with a knowing smile. “Did he shout at you?” Wontae shook his head, hiccupping as he clung to your shoulder.

“No,” Wontae admitted, his sobs quieting as you continued to comfort him.

“He was just talking to you,” you reassured him, casting Seungcheol a gentle, supportive look.

Seungcheol groaned internally, a mix of confusion and self-reproach. He thought he’d nailed it—the gentle parenting that you both had worked so hard to practice. Yet here was his son, still able to sense the tension in his expression, and hurt by it despite the lack of yelling or scolding.

Seungcheol sighed, running a hand through his hair as he sat back on his heels. “We’re on this stage now,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

You glanced at him, raising a brow. “What stage?”

“The threenager stage,” Seungcheol said, his tone carrying both exasperation and amusement. “I read about it somewhere. It’s when kids start acting like teenagers—rebelling, pushing boundaries, testing their parents’ patience. Wontae’s only three, but he already knows how to push all my buttons.”

You laughed softly, shifting Wontae in your arms as his sniffles subsided. “It’s not rebellion, Seungcheol. It’s curiosity. He’s learning, exploring his emotions, and figuring out how far he can go.”

“Exploring his emotions by drawing on my freshly painted wall?” Seungcheol deadpanned, though a small smile tugged at his lips. He wasn’t truly upset anymore—not when Wontae was looking up at him with wide, apologetic eyes.

“Exactly,” you teased, setting Wontae back down on the floor. “It’s frustrating, but it’s normal. And you handled it really well, by the way.”

Seungcheol tilted his head, raising a skeptical brow. “I did?”

“Yes,” you said firmly, giving him an encouraging smile. “You didn’t yell or scare him. You explained things calmly. That’s the kind of parenting that sticks with them, Seungcheol. He’ll remember this.”

Seungcheol glanced at Wontae, who had returned to his coloring book but kept sneaking shy glances at his father. He felt a wave of warmth wash over him, mingled with pride and relief. I can do this, he thought. Even when it’s tough, I can do this.

“Okay, buddy,” Seungcheol said, crouching down to Wontae’s level. “Let’s make a deal. No more drawing on the walls, okay? If you want to draw something big, we’ll find some paper or maybe a special board just for you. How does that sound?”

Wontae’s face lit up at the idea. “A special board? Really?”

“Really,” Seungcheol promised, ruffling his son’s hair. “But only if you promise no more wall art.”

“I promise, Appa!” Wontae beamed, holding up his pinky. Seungcheol chuckled and locked his pinky with his son’s, sealing the deal.

You watched the exchange with a fond smile, stepping closer to place a hand on Seungcheol’s shoulder. “See? You’re doing great.”

Seungcheol exhaled deeply, his smile widening. “Thanks, love. I guess I just need to remember to breathe. And to hide all the crayons.”

You both laughed softly, and for a moment, the chaos felt a little more manageable.

*

"One… Two… Three…" Seungcheol’s voice was steady as he counted while Chan, drenched in sweat, gritted his teeth to finish his push-up set. His arms trembled, and his face was etched with exhaustion, but he pushed through, determined to complete the punishment.

The door to the practice room swung open, and the rest of the group filed in, their faces a mix of confusion and amusement as they took in the scene. Seungcheol stood towering over Chan, arms crossed, while the youngest member struggled through the exercise. It was a far cry from what anyone had expected when they read Seungcheol's early-morning text asking Chan to come to the practice room an hour ahead of schedule.

"What’s going on here?" Joshua asked, barely hiding his amusement as he watched Chan squirm on the floor.

"Ten!" Seungcheol finished his count, clapping his hands in exaggerated applause. He smirked as Chan collapsed onto the floor, utterly spent. "That’s ten sets done—one hundred push-ups. Congratulations, Chan. That’s what you get for giving my son those crayons."

Chan’s pout was instant. "It’s not fair! It’s your son who drew on the wall. Why am I the one getting punished?" His voice was full of indignation, though it lacked the energy to be truly effective.

Mingyu burst into laughter, doubling over as realization dawned. "Wait, wait—Wontae drew all over the wall with the crayons Chan gave him? That’s hilarious!" He clutched his sides, nearly toppling over from laughing so hard.

Jeonghan, leaning casually against the doorframe, nodded in mock agreement. "Honestly, it makes sense. Seungcheol’s a gentle appa with Wontae—there’s no way he’d punish his precious son for something like this." He shot Chan a teasing grin. "But you? Yeah, I’d do the same if I were Seungcheol."

Chan groaned dramatically, throwing an arm over his face. "This is so unfair!" he whined, his voice muffled. "I’m the innocent one here! Gentle appa is a fraud—he’s evil!"

Seungcheol couldn’t hold back his chuckle as he crouched down to look at Chan. "Gentle appa does exist," he said with a smirk, "but only for Wontae. You and your crayons? You’re a different story."

"See?" Jeonghan said, straightening up. "I told you. Seungcheol’s priorities are clear."

Chan sat up, still sulking. "Unfair. So unfair." He shot a glance at the others, hoping for sympathy, but all he got were amused grins and stifled laughter.

"Hey," Joshua added, chuckling softly, "at least now you know not to mess with Wontae’s creative genius—or his dad’s freshly painted walls."

Mingyu clapped Chan on the back, nearly knocking him over again. "Think of it as a lesson in self-sacrifice. You helped foster Wontae’s artistic side. That’s a win, right?"

Chan groaned louder, flopping onto the floor in defeat, while Seungcheol leaned against the wall with a triumphant grin. "Alright, everyone. Lesson’s over. Let’s get to practice before he starts crying for real."

"So unfair!"

[m4ndysk4nkovich]

debbie baby-trapping derek.

i was rewatching the part where derek leaves, and i just felt the need to share my pov of it.

as we all know, i am a lesbian debbie truther. i 100% believe that she was expierencing comphet and didn’t love derek and season 6 is perfect evidence.

in season 6, it is revealed derek left for florida, and is going to become a pilot in the air force. derek’s sister in law confronts her about the fact that she didn’t care enough to know such a major detail about derek, and that she didn’t love derek, she just loved the baby.

i agree.

debbie didn’t love derek, she thought she did at first, and then when she met his family and saw a perfect opportunity to be in it, she took it. debbie says she didn’t “mean” to trap him, and i believe her to the extent where i think she didn’t know that she was trapping him, but she did trap him. to be fair, he never said that he didn’t want to have a kid with her, he just left- but still.

all debbie has ever wanted was a family, specifically a daughter. and she gets that. people think it was bad for her, but it was her dream, and she ended up doing really well, so i disagree. however, all derek truly ended up being was just his sperm. he is the father of franny, but franny doesn’t know him, and he was dead by the time she was four.

matty and derek are such perfect examples of comphet and i have even more reasoning:

with matty, debbie only began liking him because holly literally told her that she did.

she really wanted his validation (daddy issues).

in 4x11, she moves on EXTREMELY quickly, proving she never actually had any feelings

with derek, she saw someone defending her, and confused platonic attraction with romantic attraction (“that was the nicest thing anyones ever done for me!” -debbie)

she found out that she could get into this perfect family by having a kid so she did just that, she was more interested in the family than him

she knew basically nothing about him

her intense reaction to his absence was her abandonment issues, not her being in love

it’s honestly saddening how her whole intention was to create a family the opposite of hers, with two loving parents, but just ended up being put in a similar position where one parent runs off and the other one is left high and dry.

also i hate derek- i get he was trapped but i don’t even hate him for that i just hate him💋

[pucksandpower]

Fairytale

Charles Leclerc x Princess of Monaco!Reader

Summary: Charles Leclerc has everything he could ask for (off the track, at least) including a fairytale romance … except no one actually believes that his girlfriend is really his girlfriend

Charles sighs as he walks into the drivers’ lounge, bracing himself for the inevitable teasing. Ever since he had casually mentioned having a girlfriend, and more specifically who the girlfriend in question is, his friends have been merciless.

“Wow, if it isn’t Prince Charles in the flesh! Back from another romantic getaway with his imaginary princess,” Max laughs as he enters.

“Come on mates, lay off,” Charles pleads half-heartedly. He knows it is useless.

“I just don’t get it,” Lando chimes in. “There’s no shame in admitting that you’re single. We’re racing drivers, we don’t exactly always have time for relationships.”

“Maybe his standards are too high,” Pierre suggests. “He’s actually holding out for real royalty or something.”

The others laugh as Charles feels his face grow warm. If only they believed him.

“You know what you need?” Carlos grins. “A nice Spanish girl to set you up with. My sister’s friend Elena is single, I could give you her number.”

Charles rolls his eyes. “I told you, I have a girlfriend. Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Because we’ve never seen her!” Max exclaims. “You talk about her all the time but she never comes to races or appears in photos. She might as well be a unicorn.”

“Maybe she’s just embarrassed to be seen with Charles,” Lando teases.

Charles frowns, stung by Lando’s words. If only they knew the truth. The reality is that his girlfriend is extremely famous in her own right and values the little privacy she has left too much to be seen at races. Her life is already public enough without adding the scrutiny that anyone connected to a Formula 1 driver inevitably receives on top of it. Besides, she has her own royal duties to attend to.

“Come on guys, that’s unfair,” Pierre says gently, noticing Charles’ discomfort. “If Charles says he has a girlfriend, we should believe him.”

“Thank yo—” Charles starts to say with relief. At least someone is on his side.

“Even if she is imaginary,” Pierre adds with a smirk.

Charles groans and puts his head in his hands as the laughter starts up again. He can’t really blame them for not believing him.

You are basically a fairytale princess — beautiful, elegant, and kind. Not to mention an actual member of the royal family. Her Serene Highness Princess Y/N Grace Stephanie Caroline of Monaco is the type of girl people write epic poems and songs about. Charles can hardly believe his luck that you had chosen him.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Daniel interrupts, taking pity on Charles. “Leave the poor man alone.”

“We’re just joking,” Max says defensively. “Charles knows we don’t mean anything by it.”

Charles gives Max a tight smile. “Sure.”

“Tell you what,” Daniel says, clapping Charles on the shoulder. “Bring your mystery girl to a race soon. We’ll all get to meet her and then you can finally prove these jokers wrong.”

Charles sighs. If only it were that simple. You have been tempted to attend races in the past but the scrutiny both of them would come under is just too much. You treasure the privacy your relationship allows. But maybe Daniel is right. Maybe it is time for you to finally meet his friends. After all, you are the love of his life. There is nothing to hide.

“Alright, deal,” Charles says finally. “I’ll ask her.”

The others exchange surprised looks, not expecting him to agree.

“Can’t wait to meet her,” Carlos says with a wink.

Charles rolls his eyes again but smiles. One way or another, he is going to prove to them that his amazing girlfriend isn’t just a figment of his imagination.

***

Charles is still thinking about you when he is suddenly accosted by Silvia, Ferrari’s Head of Communications, after practice.

“Charles! Just who I was looking for,” she says briskly. “I need to discuss something rather important with you.”

Charles suppresses a groan. Conversations with Silvia are never fun. “What’s up?” He asks with forced cheerfulness.

Silvia lowers her voice. “It’s about your relationship status. We feel it would be beneficial if you were seen dating someone … compatible.”

Charles’ eyebrows shoot up. “Compatible?”

“Yes. A model. Or perhaps an actress. Someone who would look good on your arm and boost your image.”

Charles folds his arms defensively. “What’s wrong with my girlfriend?”

Silvia waves a hand impatiently. “Yes yes, this alleged princess you keep mentioning. The problem, Charles, is that no one has seen her. No one knows if she is actually connected to you in any way. So, as far as we are concerned, for all intents and purposes, you are single.”

Charles frowns. This again. “I keep telling you that she’s really my girlfriend. Y/N is just very private.”

“Private women don’t date Formula 1 drivers,” Silvia says bluntly. “If she really was in a relationship with you, she would be here. But since that is clearly a figment of your imagination, we need to take steps.”

Charles feels his blood boil. How dare Silvia insult his relationship with Y/N? Question their connection?

“Here are profiles of suitable options,” Silvia continues, shoving a surprisingly heavy folder at him. Charles doesn’t open it.

“No.”

Silvia blinks. “No?”

“My relationship with Y/N is off limits,” Charles says firmly. “My personal life is exactly that — personal. Not to be exploited for PR.”

“Don’t be foolish,” Silvia snaps. “This is bigger than you. Your image reflects on Ferrari. We need to be able to control it.”

“No. What you need to do is back off,” Charles shoots back.

Silvia’s nostrils flare. Clearly she isn’t used to such defiance. “Charles, be reasonable—”

“I am being reasonable,” Charles interrupts. “I won’t pretend to date someone just because the team wants me to. I’m with Y/N. I don’t care if you believe me or not.”

Silvia shakes her head in disgust. “You’re making a big mistake. Don’t come crying to me when this blows up in your face.”

She storms off, heels clicking angrily against the floor.

Charles takes a deep breath, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He can’t remember the last time he stood up to Silvia like that. It felt good but also nerve-wracking. He knows she won’t let this go easily.

His phone buzzes and his heart leaps when he sees it’s a text from you.

Heard you had a rough day. Wish I could be there to make it better. I love you 💋

Charles smiles, the tension in his shoulders easing. You always knew just what to say and when to say it.

He quickly types back.

I wish you were here too. No matter what anyone says, they can’t change my feelings for you. I love you so much ❤️

He hits send, imagining your smile as you read his text. It doesn’t matter what his team, the media, or even his fellow drivers think. His relationship with you is real and authentic. Someday he’ll find a way for you to be by his side. But for now, your private moments together are enough.

Charles knows staying with you is the right decision, PR be damned. You are his soulmate — the fairytale princess he never expected to find but thanks God every single day that he did. Your love is worth fighting for. And someday, when the time is right, he’ll finally be able to show the world that what you have together is very real.

***

Charles groans as he notices multiple missed calls from his brothers. He has been avoiding their calls lately, knowing they would just tease him mercilessly about his girlfriend. But he knows he can’t dodge them forever.

Taking a deep breath, he calls Arthur back.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Prince Charles himself, taking time away from his busy schedule of dating princesses to spare a chat with us commoners,” Arthur says slyly upon answering.

Charles rolls his eyes. “Very funny. What do you want?”

“We just wanted to check in on our brother and see how life with Monegasque royalty is treating you,” Lorenzo chimes in. Charles realizes he must be on speaker.

“Oh yes, Princess Y/N,” Arthur says in an exaggerated swoony voice. “Our brother’s one true love since he was 15 years old and had that giant poster of her plastered on his wall.”

Charles feels his face flush. He knows exactly what poster Arthur is referencing — a stunning photo of you in a ballgown from a high society event years ago. Teenage Charles has ripped it out of a magazine and hung it up reverently in his room, gazing at it longingly.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he sputters. “I never had a poster.”

“Oh really?” Lorenzo laughs. “I seem to recall you cutting out every picture you could find of her and keeping a little scrapbook.”

Charles cringes internally. Okay, maybe his teenage obsession had been a bit … enthusiastic. But he can’t help that he had recognized you as his dream girl even then.

“Alright, so maybe I had a tiny crush on her,” Charles admits. “But it is not crazy that we ended up together.”

Arthur cackles. “You used to kiss her photos goodnight before going to bed! You were completely obsessed!”

“Remember how he tried to sneak into that royal gala at Salle des Etoiles to see her?” Lorenzo adds. “He was totally insane.”

Charles grimaces at the memory. Okay, not his finest moment.

“Face it Charles, you’ve been in love with the imaginary idea of Princess Y/N since you were in nappies,” Arthur teases. “No shame in admitting she wouldn't even give you the time of day now.”

Charles feels his frustration rising. Why does no one believe him?

“Because your so-called relationship makes no sense!” Lorenzo says, accurately reading his silence. “She’s a literal princess and you’re … you.”

“Gee, thanks,” Charles grumbles. He knows his brothers are just teasing but it still stings.

“Come on, just admit you made the whole thing up to get everyone off your back,” Arthur prods.

Charles sighs loudly. “For the millionth time, what we have is 100 percent real! Just because it seems unlikely doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. I don’t care if none of you believe me, I love her and she loves me.”

His brothers are silent for a moment.

“You alright there?” Arthur asks, his voice softening.

“Yes, I just wish everyone would stop questioning my relationship all the time,” Charles admits. “It hurts.”

“We’re only joking Charles, we don’t mean any harm,” Lorenzo says gently.

“I know,” Charles replies. “Doesn’t make it any easier to hear constantly though.”

“You’re right, we took the teasing too far,” Arthur says. “We’ll lay off from now on.”

Charles smiles slightly. “Thanks. And someday soon I will prove to you that it is real.”

His brothers are silent for a moment.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Arthur finally laughs.

Charles groans and runs a hand through his hair in frustration. Clearly nothing he says would convince his stubborn brothers that his relationship with you was real and not merely a childhood fantasy.

“Alright, well, I should get going,” Charles mumbles, eager to get off the phone.

“Chin up, we’re only teasing,” Lorenzo says lightly. “Have fun with your imaginary princess!”

Arthur and Lorenzo explode into more laughter as Charles quickly hangs up, his face burning. Someday, he will prove to them and everyone else that his amazing girlfriend isn’t just a figment of his imagination. No matter how long it takes.

***

Charles sinks into the familiar couch in his sports psychologist’s office, exhausted after a long day on the simulator and endless teasing from his team.

“Rough day out there?” Dr. Anderson asks kindly, noticing the strain on Charles’ face.

“That’s an understatement,” Charles sighs. “The car is just so slow this year. We keep trying new setups and tweaks but nothing helps. And the strategy is somehow even worse than the pace. It’s like the team wants me to fail.”

Dr. Anderson nods sympathetically. “That must be very frustrating. Tell me more about how it’s impacting you.”

Charles launches into a tirade about the endless issues with the car, the incompetent strategists, and the lack of proper communication from his engineers. Dr. Anderson listens patiently, letting him vent his pent-up anger and disappointment.

After a lengthy rant, Charles finally runs out of steam. “Anyway, it’s just been a terrible season,” he concludes glumly.

“I can certainly understand why you feel that way,” Dr. Anderson says. “It sounds like the team is letting you down in many ways.”

Charles nods, feeling some of the tension leave his shoulders after unloading. It helps to talk about it with someone whose job is not to judge.

“Is there anything else bothering you lately?” Dr. Anderson asks gently. “Any other sources of stress?”

Charles hesitates. He and Dr. Anderson have been working together for years, ever since he joined Ferrari. He knows he can open up to her.

“It’s just … well, besides the team stuff, no one believes me about my girlfriend,” he admits.

Dr. Anderson raises her eyebrows. “I see. Tell me more about that.”

Charles explains the endless teasing from his fellow drivers, the manipulation attempts by the PR team, and the doubtful reactions from his own family. How despite his best efforts, no one seems willing to accept that he is really dating Princess Y/N of Monaco.

“It’s so frustrating!" He bursts out at the end. “I don’t know what else I can do to convince them that we are actually together.”

Dr. Anderson purses her lips, jotting down notes. “I can understand why their doubt would upset you. It must be painful to have your relationship questioned.”

“Exactly!" Charles exclaims, throwing his hands up. “You get it. I knew I could talk to you.”

Dr. Anderson gives him a sympathetic smile.

Charles leaves the appointment feeling much better, confident that his psychologist believes him and is on his side.

As he is exiting, Charles notices Dr. Anderson’s notebook left open on her desk. Before he can stop himself, his eyes scan the page and focus on his name.

He feels his heart sink as he reads.

Charles Leclerc: deflecting from pain of difficult season by creating elaborate fantasy relationship. Fixation on celebrity crush indicates deeper self-esteem issues. Recommend to confront delusion directly in next session.

Charles reels, shock and anger swirling through him. Not even his own psychologist believes him! She thinks he is living in some weird fantasy.

Swallowing the bitter taste in his mouth, Charles straightens his shoulders and walks out. He has never felt more alone and frustrated in his conviction. But he refuses to give up. No matter what anyone says, his love for you is real. And one day, somehow, he will prove it to the world.

***

Charles is back at his family home in Monaco during a rare few days off. He is puttering around the kitchen while his mother cooks dinner.

“Oh, by the way, Y/N is coming over for dinner tonight,” Charles mentions casually. “I want you all to finally meet her.”

Pascale laughs lightly without looking up from the stove. “Of course, sweetie.”

Charles frowns. “I’m serious, maman. She’ll be here in an hour.”

“Mhmm, I’m sure she will,” Pascale replies indulgently. Charles huffs in annoyance.

Just then, his brothers come into the kitchen, freshly showered after playing football outside.

“Hey Charles, how’s life with your imaginary girlfriend?” Lorenzo immediately teases.

“She’s actually coming over for dinner tonight,” Charles says tersely.

Arthur lets out a loud laugh. “Yeah right! Good one.” He grabs a piece of bread from the counter, still chuckling.

Charles throws his hands up in exasperation. “Why does no one ever believe me about her?”

“Boys, that’s enough,” Pascale chides gently. “Let your brother dream.”

Charles opens his mouth to retort but just then, the doorbell rings. His eyes widen.

“I’ll get it!" He yells, dashing for the door. He takes a deep breath before swinging it open to reveal you standing there casually in jeans and a sweater, looking effortlessly gorgeous.

“Surprise!" You laugh, pulling him into a tight hug. Charles melts into your embrace, all his stress and frustration fading away.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you right now,” he murmurs into your hair.

You pull back to smile at him tenderly. “I’ve been looking forward to this for ages. I want your family to know how much I love you.”

Charles grins and takes your hand, leading your into the kitchen where his stunned family waits.

Pascale’s mouth is hanging open in shock. The piece of bread Arthur is holding falls to the floor with a dull thump.

“Y-your Serene Highness,” Pascale finally manages to stammer out, hastily wiping her hands on a towel. “What an honor, we weren’t expecting you ...”

She shoots an accusatory look at Charles, who throws up his hands defensively. “I told you she was coming!”

Pascale flushes. “Yes, well, I didn’t think … that is … we would have prepared ...”

You step forward gracefully, immediately putting Pascale at ease. “Please, just call me Y/N. I’ve been dying to meet Charles’ family.”

As you effortlessly charm his mother and brothers, Charles stands back watching with a satisfied smile. The shock and sheepishness on his family’s faces is vindicating after so many months of teasing and disbelief.

Charles has never been one to say “I told you so” but … I told you so.

***

The cheers of the crowd are deafening as the chequered flag waves for Charles at the Monaco Grand Prix. He can hardly believe it — finally, a win at his home race!

As he pulls into parc fermé and jumps out of the car, the emotions hit him. Pure elation at ending the long wait for a home victory. Relief at overcoming the team’s doubts. But most of all, excitement for what comes next.

The podium ceremony.

And with the Monegasque royal family presenting the trophies as usual, Charles knows exactly who will be handing him the winner’s trophy.

He can barely stand still through the anthems, eager for his moment with you. The weekend has been agony, so close to you yet having to pretend that there is nothing between the two of you.

But not anymore.

At last, the royal family walks onto the podium led by none other than Princess Y/N. Charles’ heart skips a beat at the sight of you gliding towards him in a figure-hugging red midi dress, sunlight glinting off your carefully styled hair. You somehow manage to become more and more beautiful every time he sees you.

Stopping in front of him, you give him a subtle wink before launching into the customary congratulatory speech. Charles nods along, not hearing a word as he zones out while admiring the stunning woman he gets to call his own.

At last, you turn to pick up the trophy. “It is my honor to present this trophy to our victor, who represents Monaco with pride in everything he does, Charles Leclerc,” you announce, holding it out to him with a brilliant smile.

In that moment, Charles throws all caution to the wind. As he accepts the trophy, he reaches out and pulls you into a passionate kiss.

The crowd below erupts in shocked cheers and screams. You melt into the kiss for a blissful moment before gently pulling back, your eyes sparkling. Charles grins at you breathlessly.

“Worth the wait?” He murmurs.

“Absolutely,” you whisper back, squeezing his hand. “I’m so proud of you, mon amour.”

Turning back to the roaring crowd, Charles wraps an arm around your waist and thrusts your linked hands into the air in triumph.

Looking out at the paddock, Charles sees the priceless dumbfounded looks on his fellow drivers’ faces. The Ferrari PR team looks ready to pass out in horror. Reporters are screaming questions and snapping photos frantically.

But Charles only has eyes for the radiant princess at his side. At long last, he has made your love public for the whole world to see.

Later, after celebrations around the circuit have started winding down in favor of moving to lounges and clubs for the night, Charles and you escape for a private moment together.

“That was quite the reveal,” you say with an amused quirk of your eyebrow.

Charles laughs. “I know, subtlety has never been my strong suit. I hope you don’t mind.”

You caress his face tenderly. “Of course not. I’m happy to finally be by your side. No more hiding.”

Charles kisses you deeply, all the love and longing of the past months pouring into it.

When you finally break apart, foreheads touching, he murmurs, “No more doubts. No more teasing. They all know now that you’re real and all mine.”

“Forever yours,” you whisper back. And seal it with another perfect kiss.

***

“I can’t believe it. I just … actually can’t believe it,” Max mutters, staring at the large screens around the paddock that are showing you and Charles gazing adoringly into each other’s eyes during the post-race interviews.

“Lord Perceval … dating an actual princess,” Carlos muses in disbelief.

“And not just any princess, his teenage celebrity crush!" Lando exclaims.

“I guess we owe him an apology,” Pierre says sheepishly.

“Big time,” Daniel agrees. “We gave him so much crap for making her up.”

“Speak of the devil,” Max mutters as Charles strides into the room, hand-in-hand with you.

An awkward silence descends on the group. Charles clears his throat, enjoying their obvious discomfort.

“I believe you all know my girlfriend, Her Serene Highness Y/N Grace Stephanie Caroline, Hereditary Princess of Monaco and Marquise of Baux. But you can just call her Your Serene Highness or Princess Y/N,” he says politely.

The guys mumble greetings, not quite meeting your eyes. You smile graciously. “You can just call me Y/N. Any friend of Charles is a friend of mine and there’s no need for titles around friends.”

Charles narrows his eyes. “Actually I don’t think that will be necessary. I believe they should maintain protocol and address you properly.”

You shoots him a look. “Darling, it’s fine, really. I want your friends to feel comfortable around me.”

But Charles crosses his arms, not budging. “No, it’s not fine. I must insist that they observe the formal mode of address for royalty.”

The drivers shift awkwardly again. You pull Charles aside with a soothing smile.

“What are you doing?” You whisper. “I’m trying to put them at ease.”

“I know but they deserve to squirm for a bit after how much they mocked us,” Charles whispers back petulantly.

You bite back a smile. “Don’t be silly. I know their teasing hurt but let’s move past it. Can you really blame them for thinking it sounds like a made up fairytale? Put yourself in their shoes.”

Charles sighs. “I guess you’re right ... I just want them to respect you.”

“They will, in time,” you say gently. “But forcing them to be overly formal won’t accomplish that. I’m still just me.”

Charles nods reluctantly. “Okay fine, we’ll do it your way.”

You turn back to the drivers who are trying to act natural and pretending that they didn’t just listen in on your conversation with a bright smile. “I’ve heard so much about all of you,” you say. “Charles speaks very highly of his fellow drivers.”

“We’re, uh, happy to finally meet you too,” Max manages to get out.

“Yeah, congrats mate,” Daniel offers weakly.

More awkward silence follows. Charles smirks, deciding to twist the knife a bit more.

“I know you all had your doubts about me landing a catch like Y/N,” he says casually. “But I can’t blame you. Even I can hardly believe someone so incredible would fall for me.”

He gazes at you adoringly as you blush prettily while the drivers fidget uneasily.

“Anyway, as you can now see, she’s real and we are happier than ever!" Charles concludes brightly.

“We’re really sorry for not believing you,” Lando bursts out sincerely. “And all the teasing.”

The others chime in with apologies and congratulations. Charles graciously accepts, reassuring them no hard feelings.

After you have throughly charmed them all and departed, the group surrounds Charles excitedly.

“Alright, you have to give us all the details,” Max demands. “How did you meet? How did you get her to go out with you? When did it get serious?”

Charles just laughs. “It’s a long story. But the important thing is that she’s the only one for me. Despite everyone doubting us, our love was real from the start.”

“Pretty epic to have a real life princess as your soulmate,” Pierre says dreamily.

“Just remember you knew me back when you all thought she was imaginary,” Charles jokes.

“We’ll never live it down,” Carlos groans goodnaturedly.

Charles smiles, feeling lighter and happier than he has in ages. The long struggle to prove himself has been worth it. Now he has everything — the win, the girl, and the utter shock and joy of proving to the world that even his wildest dreams can come true.

And this is only the beginning for him and his beloved princess.

[kikyo-writes]

"I like you, okay?!"

summary: katsuki struggles to confess to his crush.

tags: fluff, fem!reader

Katsuki is good at a lot of things, but when it comes to romance, he is a hopeless fool.  

In his defense, it’s not his fault. He’s spent the vast majority of his life focusing on one goal and one goal only—honing his Quirk so that he can become the Number One Hero. And he always thought that his attention would never sway, free of any unnecessary distractions.  

Until he met you.  

At the start of the first year at U.A, Katsuki didn’t think much of you. Well, he didn’t think much of any of his classmates, for that matter, but slowly but surely, the days passed, and he found his gaze lingering on you for a lot longer than he would’ve liked to admit.  

Katsuki tries to deny it at first. Something about you makes him feel... off. He's not sure why his chest gets uncomfortably tight when you speak to him, and it also doesn’t make any sense why his face heats up like never before. Maybe he’s sick, but if that were really the case, then he’s somehow been sick for the past few months.  

It takes someone else’s meddling for Katsuki to finally put the pieces together.  

“So, Bakugou, what’s up with you and [Name]?” Kaminari asks. “It feels like you treat her a bit differently than everyone else. Do you have a crush on her or something?”  

Kaminari was half-joking, but when Katsuki’s cheeks flush a deep shade of crimson—enough to rival his piercing eyes—everyone around him gasps.  

“Dude,” Kirishima chuckles. “No way. You actually like her, huh?”  

“The hell I do!” Katsuki immediately snaps back, but his voice cracks, and based on the way everyone smirks at him, he can tell he must not be very convincing.  

Kaminari grins. “Wow, I hit the nail right on the head! You’ve gotta confess, man! [Name]’s really popular, so if you wait around too long, someone else might beat you to it!”  

“You idiots are out of your damn minds,” Katsuki grits out, and without wasting a beat, he shoves his hands in his pockets and stomps off.  

They’re just being stupid like always. Seriously, him, having a crush on someone? The Bakugou Katsuki? As if he has the time or energy to waste on mushy shit like that. It’s so ridiculous he’s almost tempted to laugh.  

But then he takes a moment to consider Kaminari’s words.  

“If you wait around too long, someone else might beat you to it.”  

Katsuki isn’t sure why, but he briefly imagines you being asked out by another person, someone who isn’t him. He imagines you laughing with them, hooking your arm around theirs, and last but certainly not least, leaning forward to meet them in a kiss.  

The image evokes a visceral reaction from him, and in that moment, he swears his heart nearly stops beating. 

And then comes the realization.  

Oh, fuck.  

He’s in deep shit.  

As much as Katsuki would like to say that he’s made progress since realizing that he likes you, that unfortunately isn’t the case.  

If anything, the self-awareness has just made things worse. Before, he could at least talk to you like a semi-normal person, but now, your interactions usually go something like this:  

“Good morning, Katsuki,” you greet. “How’d you do on yesterday’s assignment? To be honest, I was kind of rushing to finish it on time. It felt like it was harder than usual.”  

Katsuki parts his lips to respond, but the longer he stares at you, the faster his heart races.  

He ends up walking away out of sheer embarrassment.  

“Man,” Kirishima sighs. “That was painful to watch.”

“Shut up!” Katsuki hisses. “What the fuck do you want me to do?!”  

“Just be normal. Be yourself.” Kirishima pauses for a few moments. “Actually... maybe that’s not the best advice.”  

“Oh, piss off!"  

It goes on like this for a while. Every time you engage him in casual, friendly conversation, Katsuki finds himself freezing up completely. It’s ironic, because he has the confidence to take on fearsome villains with ease, and yet this is what has him scared shitless.  

Goddammit. Katsuki never realized that liking someone would be such a test of his strength.  

Unfortunately, he’s too caught up in his own feelings that he doesn’t stop to consider how all of this looks from your perspective.  

“Katsuki,” you approach him one day, and for some reason, you’re frowning. “Hey. Can you please be honest with me? Did I do something to upset you, or what? Because it feels like you’ve been ignoring me lately.”  

He blinks. “What? No. If I had a problem with you, I’d tell you.”  

“Well, that’s what I thought too. So then... why do you keep avoiding me? Does it just bore you having to listen to me talk?”  

Hardly. Katsuki could probably listen to you talk for hours upon hours without getting bored. You have a pretty face, a pretty voice, and whenever you smile or laugh, it makes him want to do the same.  

It suddenly dawns on him that this is probably the best chance he’ll get. It’ll be bad news if he lets this misunderstanding drag out any further. He doesn’t want you to think that you don’t like him, because that’s the furthest thing from the truth.  

Come on. He can do this. He’s Bakugou Katsuki, for fuck’s sake. It’s time to stop acting like a coward and own up to how he feels.  

“I,” Katsuki starts shakily, “I...”  

You raise a brow. “You...?”  

“I...”  

“...?”  

Holy shit, this is so much harder than he anticipated. He’ll take a punch to the face over a confession any day of the week.  

But no, he can’t give up, goddammit! Again, he’s Bakugou Katsuki! Resident badass! The (self-proclaimed) future Number One Hero! 

The words feel like bile rushing up his esophagus, and even though they burn like hell, he finally, finally manages to spit them out.  

“I like you, okay?!”  

He did it. He’s violently flushed in the face and keeps having to gasp to reclaim his breath, but at long last, the truth is out in the open.  

And now for the part that he didn’t even stop to consider. Seeing how you'll react.  

“Oh,” you blink in response. You’re visibly taken aback, and you clear your throat, stopping to ponder your next words. “Well, that’s—”  

“Shut up, shut up, shut up! I don’t want to hear it!”  

Katsuki books it the hell out of there before he can hear what you have to say. He supposes he’s unlocked a new fear: rejection. The way he handled this whole situation is lame, it’s childish as hell, and he knows it, but when it comes to this stuff, it looks like he’s much more of a coward than he first thought.  

Meanwhile, you giggle softly as you watch him run off.  

“What a dork. He didn’t even wait for me to say I like him back.”  

[gold-dustwomxn]

mystified

part 2

summary: after sudden attacks on women around town, you take a self defense class. ellie, your long standing crush is the instructor

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

each chapter will have their own warnings please read them! eventual smut

cw: mentions of child abuse and implication of attempted sexual assault (does not go into detail for either), panic attack

fluff and angst

light rocking against your shoulder and a distant call of your name pulls you from your deep slumber making you groan, not conscious enough to take in where you are. “hey sleepyhead, wake up.” ellie’s raspy whisper has you cracking one eye open. you’re too tired to even speak or think coherently, making you hum in question.

ellie chuckles and looks at you for a moment before speaking. “sorry to wake you up so early.. I gotta be at the construction site in an hour.” you blink away your remnants of sleep and realize ellie has damp hair, is fully dressed for the day and the sun isn’t even up yet. “it’s okay. sorry I fell asleep here I didn’t even realize.” she smiles softly, “no worries, I don’t mind. you looked pretty comfy..I can drive you home on my way to work.”

the short drive to your house shares a peaceful, comfortable silence between you and ellie. the sky painting a breathtaking winter sunrise of pinks and purple. ellie pulls up to your house way too quickly for your liking, the small disappointment of having to part ways felt in your chest.

“thanks for the ride and letting me crash at your place.. I had fun last night.”

“me too,” she smiles and you feel that warmth settle deep in your stomach again. it’s a rarity to see her full smile “it’s no problem, really.. are you busy tonight?”

“no, I don’t think I have anything going on.” you know you don’t actually have anything going on. you bite the inside of your cheek to try to suppress a smile, but ellie looks between your eyes and down at your mouth and smirks at you. caught.

“well, if you’re not busy later you wanna hang out? I get off at 3, we can go to a cafe or something.” she clears her throat and you can see how physically painful this is for her. she forces herself to keep eye contact though.

you giggle and she narrows her eyes at you playfully, unspoken words and body language received between the both of you. “yeah, I’m down. just text me when you get off.”

“alright cool I can pick you up. see you later, ___.”

me: DINA wake the fuck up!!!!!

dina🤍: bitch its literally 7am why tf are u disturbing me

me: wow. anyway! last night I was walking to ur house and some creepy dude pulls up next to me asking me for directions and shit acting super sketchy. ellie pulls up out of nowhere and goes all psycho ellie mode and pulls out a fucking switchblade. I was like 😦 but it was also so hot. he skids off and she gets pics of his plates and we go back to her place for joel to deal with it. he thinks the cops can keep an eye out for that car and see if that guy has anything to do with the assaults happening. it was lowkey really scary but I’m okay. we ended up smoking and talking for hours and it was literally perfect and then we ended up falling asleep and I woke up in the middle of the night laying ON HER CHEST with her arm around me. we’re hanging out again tonight

dina🤍: wtf that’s so fucking scary! im glad ur okay:( but ommg im so excited for u angel. its ab damn time some moves are made and we can go on double dates tg hehe

me: ok let’s not get ahead of ourselves here we’ll see what happens. that’s all I wanted to tell u. ur allowed to go back to sleep now:)

dina🤍: wow how gracious of u. lmk how everything goes though <33

clothes are strewn all over your bed and floor, while you frantically try to find a cute outfit to wear. it’s fine, it’s just ellie. she’s seen you a million times since you were both 14. you finally settle on a pair of jeans and a black sweater, with your chelsea doc martens. good enough.

ellie🌿🗡️: Hey, I’m outside whenever you’re ready.

me: be right there!

okay, just breathe. everything’s fine!

as you hop into the passenger seat, ellie looks you up and down. “you look good.” you give her a shy smile and observe her; hair tied half up, in a dark green flannel with an oversized black denim jacket, black jeans with her usual pair of converse, multiple rings on her long fingers, and the scent of her woodsy cologne. “thanks, you don’t look too bad yourself.” she smiles and shakes her head, pulling out of your driveway.

“yeah, he almost dropped a whole fucking plank of wood on my head today!”

you start laughing, walking out of the coffee shop together. “maybe the hit would’ve done you good, ellie. you are very hard headed.” ellie’s jaw drops “wow, someone’s feisty today, huh?” you smile and roll your eyes, going to shove her and she catches your wrist, pulling you close to her. your breath hitches and you look down at her lips. something behind you catches ellie’s attention, her smile dropping instantly and face turning ghostly pale.

“ellie? what’s wrong?” she grabs your hand and walks you quickly to the car, opening your door to make sure you get in first before frantically hopping into her seat and speeding out of the parking lot.

“hey, what’s going on?” she shakes her head and doesn’t respond, her chest rising and falling at a rapid rate, eyebrows scrunched together.

the speed of her driving and her concerning behavior is stressing you the fuck out. she pulls up to her house and lets you both in before she runs up the stairs to the bathroom, whipping the door shut with a loud slam.

you slowly walk up the stairs, not knowing whether or not to give her privacy. you suddenly hear her crying and hyperventilating. “ellie, I’m coming in.”

ellie is seated on the floor next to the tub with her head between her legs, forearms laid on her knees. “hey, hey I’m here. can I touch you?” she nods and you gently take her hand, softly rubbing the back of her palm while you place her other hand against your chest. “try to follow my breathing, okay?” you take slow, deep breaths for her to follow until she calms down.

“I’m sorry.” she avoids looking at you. “no, I’m here for you, okay? you don’t have to hide from me.” she wipes the rest of her tears from her eyes and nods. you move to sit next to her and gently rub her back, still holding her hand.

“do you wanna talk about it?” she clears her throat and looks straight ahead. “I uh… saw one of my old foster parents. he was pretty fucked up,” she lets out a dry laugh. “thought I was over it but I didn’t expect to see him.”

“what did he do?” she looks at you in contemplation before looking away with a cold, steely gaze. she sniffs and nods, “he… used to beat the shit out of me all the time for no reason.” she looks down at her scarred tattoo and rubs the skin. “this burn… he tried to-“ she clenches her jaw and shakes her head. “anyway, I managed to get away before he did anything, but I ended up burning my arm on the stove in the midst of it all. tried to press charges but that didn’t work, big shocker,” she scoffs. “I ran away and refused to go back so they placed me with joel and he eventually adopted me.”

she looks back up at you, trying to gauge what you’re thinking. you don’t realize you’re crying until she wipes away a tear from your cheek. “hey, don’t cry it was a long time ago I was just… not prepared for all of that.”

“sorry, I just hate that you had to go through all of that, especially at such a young age.” she lets out a deep breath and nods. “sorry our date got ruined” she gives you a sad smile.

“it wasn’t,” you squeeze her hand “I had a good time and I’m just glad I was able to be here with you.” you look up in thought, “do you have brownie mix?” she looks at you in confusion and lets out a small laugh “uh, I dunno, why?” “whenever I’m sad or going through something, I like to bake because it gives me something to do to take my mind off of everything and brownies are fucking good.” you nod with conviction. ellie laughs, “you are so fucking cute. c’mon let’s go see if I have some brownie mix.”

as you mix the chocolatey batter, and hum to the song playing on the speaker, ellie leans against the counter and watches you. she loves the domesticity and warmth you surround her with, and you were right, doing all of this is making her feel better.

“are you just gonna stand there and stare at me or are you gonna help?” “nah I think I’m good right here” she smirks at you. you nod slowly and look at her with mischief, holding up the spoon. her eyes widen and she points her finger at you, “don’t you fucking dare.”

you chase ellie around the kitchen island, out of breath from laughing and she ends up slipping on her sock, grabbing onto the counter for balance. as you run up to her and try to smear the batter on her face, she grabs your arm. you struggle against her, making you trip over her leg and she catches you, wrapping her arms around your waist. both of your laughters fade into small smiles as both of your eyes trails to each other’s lips. ellie’s face becomes serious as she leans in, lips ghosting yours. the sound of the front door opening has you both abruptly backing away from each other. fucking joel.

“hey kiddo, what are y’all up to?” ellie’s face is beet red and she clears her throat, “just making some brownies. why are you home?” ellie’s voice holds a bit of an edge to it.

“well, damn, I’ll get outta your hair in a minute, just stoppin’ by, forgot to pack my dinner.” she hums in annoyance. your eyes widen at the tension ellie is radiating.

“joel! my parents wanted me to give this to you as a thanks for the free self defense lesson, and for helping me out yesterday.” you open up your bag and take out a bottle of whiskey. ellie’s brows furrow, oops you forgot to tell her.

joel holds the bottle at a downward angle “would’ya look at that.. I’ll be sure to send my thanks to them.” he walks to the fridge and grabs out a container. “alright I’m headin’ out,” he looks at ellie “do me a favor, don’t burn the house down.” she groans and rolls her eyes.

“mm, these brownies are fucking good. you were right after all.” you scoff and smack her arm, “of course I was right. don’t ever doubt me again.” ellie rolls her eyes, “yes ma’am,” she quips sarcastically. “now, pay attention, this is my favorite part of the movie,” you say with feigned sternness. she smiles and nods, finishing off her brownie and leans back into her pillows.

you rest your head on her shoulder and place your hand on her stomach, tracing small patterns. you look up at her and whisper, “ellie?”

“hm?”

“do you really feel okay now?”

she turns her head to the side to look at you, face only inches away, and nods slowly. you feel her breath ghosting your lips and your heart starts racing, chest rising up and down quickly. ellie parts her mouth and licks her lips, leaning in, kissing you softly. she pulls away to look at you, before sitting up and grabbing your face, deepening the kiss.

HA sorry to edge u all. things are gonna get spicy as fuck in the next chapter. interactions are much appreciated 💗

taglist: @me-and-your-husband @fireflyels

[letmeoutofthebasementt]

SKZ in a fist fight

Chan

This man is cruel and ON ONE. I’m talking during fights this man is doing anything. Scratching, stomping, strangling. Ain’t no shame in his game. Though he will feel guilty after he won’t during. He said “I want this to hurt.” And it did. He also is constantly changing. Like oh he realizes you have pocket sand? Bet. He got something for you. He said “embrace the process” and did.

Minho

Minho is the type who doesn’t fight. He calls the cops. Like I got “Fight who?🤨” vibes. You’re not worth it. You’ll never be worth it. He’s fighting nobody because Korea’s laws are shit and even if it’s self defense he can go to jail so quick. With that being said the verbal beating you’ll get will probably be worse than anyone’s fists could dish out.

Changbin

Changbin does not fight one on one. He gets his friends to jump you. And then he’s like “Oh wow guys you really stuck up for me!” All excited and stuff as if he didn’t call his whole friend group to beat on this one person.

Hyunjin

Me and my friend talk about him and Han (at least predebut) ALL THE TIME. Now…NOWADAYS Hyunjin is more conscious. He won’t fight you because if his career goes downhill for it he’ll crash out. He’s like “We’re adults. We’re mature. Why fight?” HOWEVER. Pre scandal Hyunjin was a CRASH. OUT. (The cards and his natal chart have both spoken.) I’m talking you’re running ones with everyone he knows if you’re running ones with Hyunjin. Verbal, physical, whatever ones you can run you’re running when it comes to him. And he enjoys it. He gets mad and he gets mad quick. And he’s probably been in plenty of fights because Temper + Side Eye = Someone’s swinging and it’s 50/50. But yeah now he’s chilled out he’s not fighting anything.

Jisung

SPEAKING of Han. Another one who calls his friends to fight you cause he knows he can’t fight. But he calls his friends then runs to the hills to get out of there. And there’s absolutely ZERO shame in his game. Then he’ll spread the video like he did sumn and lie about the entire situation like “Yeah I beat them up.” No you didn’t? Predebut Han would’ve probably had a stroke if someone tried to actually fight him though. He knows he can’t fight and it stresses him out even thinking of having to fight someone.

Felix

Felix is beating the breaks off you, whoever tries to step in, AND your mama for good measure (not literally.) everyone in the general vicinity can get some. He’s fighting you, your friends, whoever tries to hold him back, anyone watching who’s talking too much, AND the camera man if someone’s recording just to prove the camera man isn’t invincible. (Kinda exaggerating.) don’t be fooled by his general Felix-ness Felix gets DOWN.

Seungmin

Before I even pulled a card I immediately got “Peasants 🙄” he’s not fighting you. I’m literally getting “I know my worth.” He knows he’s better than you so why fight? You can fight his friends instead if you really wanna run a fade. But no one’s getting hands on him. And if they do, trust they’ll go bankrupt with the amount of lawsuits he’s filing. And honestly he’s so real for that.

Jeongin

He doesn’t fight. Point blank period. He’s tried once and he got beat so bad he’s scarred for life. If someone tries to fight him he’s RUNNING, hiding, calling the cops, calling his friends, calling their MAMA he doesn’t care as long as he gets out of an ass whooping. And he has absolutely zero shame in his game. And if worse comes to worse he has pocket sand, zero morals, the mentality to fight the dirtiest of dirty and PTSD.

As a group

This is how this goes. You start trying to beat on Jeongin, next thing you know Felix starts swinging and Seungmin’s on the phone with his lawyer, Minho’s recording because he’s just like that, Han is cheering Felix on in the background, Hyunjin is pulling that “Oh we’re adults we’re mature stop fighting.” Then he gets hit and he starts crashing out and he’s definitely like that feral fighter. I’m talking biting, scratching, grabbing your hair and your neck or whatever he could find, kneeing the balls. At least Felix sticks to punching, kicking, he’ll grab you maybe stomp you but Hyunjin just does whatever. Then Chan comes up and starts swinging like his life depends on it because he’s protective of the kids, Changbin is having his Y/N moment in the back like “Guys…This isn’t like you 🥹” even though he’s low key enjoying the drama.

It’s just a mess. A funny mess, but still a mess.

Also, Jeongin probably throws the pocket sand at some point during this fight just to help them.

[bitchlessdino]

another request because ofc!!! reader finds out seokmin is a virgin and wants to change that 🤭 bonus points if it starts out of pity because they actually don’t like each other but turns into actual desire 💃🏼 mwah

Pairing: virgin!seokmin x afab!reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 2.6k

tags: mention of alcohol, manhandling, oral (reader giving), pet names for seokmin, dry humping, heavy dirty talk, unprotected sex, swallowing

author note: hi mitchieeee, i hope you enjoy hehe

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @homerunhansol @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @wonuhour @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha

“Wait, you’re a what?”

“Please don’t make a big deal out of this,” Seokmin whines seeing how hard you try to hold back your laughter.

“I can’t believe you’re a virgin. Wow, at your grown age.” You wipe away your unshed tears before setting a hand on his shoulder in a kinly manner. “Oh baby boy Minnie, you cannot just lay this on me and expect me not to do anything.”

“In my defense, I wasn’t trying to let you know.”

“Well, we’re going out tonight.”

You hadn’t known Seokmin for long, but as far as you can tell, he’s as good as these guys can get. It shouldn’t have surprised you as much as it did, but it was very hard to believe considering what a good guy he is. He’s such a textbook good guy that you had a hard time believing it. No one was that nice. He had you convinced he was two-faced at one point, but nope. Seokmin is merely just Seokmin. And maybe that was his problem.

“How about her?” you ask subtly nodding at a girl from across the bar.

“Are we really doing this?”

You tsk at the young man before asking sizing the girl up. Acting no better than a man, you pick apart mentally why she’d be a potential candidate. Eventually, you shake your head the moment you see she is being tended to by what looks to be a girlfriend of her own before you move on to the next available person with a heartbeat.

“Oh my god, wait, her! She’s perfect.” You clap to yourself momentarily and push him in her direction, reminding him what you’ve taught him. “Go, go. Compliment her shoes, or ask what she’s drinking!”

A look of discomfort is apparent on his face but he goes off in that direction anyway, stalking the target as you leisurely sipped your cosmo. It seemed to go well for a while–watching a smile on her face as they talk–but that mood takes a turn when she gets up to leave and not alongside Seokmin. When he returns to you, he’s unsure what went wrong but you reassure him the night is still young and there are plenty of opportunities for him to make a connection.

Encounter after encounter, drink after drink, none have stuck around and in the end, he retreats back to you all the same. You expel an exaggerated sigh as you cross your arms seeing him strike out a sixth time in a row. Even after all the rejection, he doesn’t seem too offended by it, leisurely sipping his watered-down cocktail. You narrow your eyes back at him, seeing him blink back like a lost lamb. “You’re not trying, are you?”

“I don’t want to even be here.”

You shake your head, pinching the skin between your eyebrows as you took a deep sigh. “I thought you wanted to know what it felt like.”

“Of course I do, but this isn’t it.” He pulls his stool from underneath him closer to you. He set his finished drink aside for the bartender to take and slouches his shoulders. “Let’s just go home. This is no way to do this.”

And like that, a lightbulb flickered in your head until it bursts with endless luminosity. “We should go home. Because you’re gonna do it with me.”

You drag him by the wrist and immediately go hail a taxi, flailing your arms like a psychopath until one was desperate enough for cash to take you.

“Are you drunk?” Seokmin asks in bemusement. “Why the hell would we of all people do that?”

“Why the hell not? I’m flexible. I can take my leg all the way up to my shoulder.”

Seokmin’s jaw slightly drops upon hearing that, picturing that, before shaking out the words from his head and realizing too late he’s joining you in a cab. “Not the point. Why are you willing to help me by going that far?”

You look at him with a stern face before shushing him with your free hand and turning to the driver with your address. You finally arrive back at your apartment, paying the driver before getting out of the car and dragging him up the flights of stairs. 

“You still haven’t answered me,” his voice echoes in the building fixtures, booming louder than usual. “And slow down, will you?”

“Walk faster.”

Entering your apartment, you realize this is the first time he’s been in here. You realize it’s the first time anyone’s been in here. You toss your keys aside and offer Seokmin a drink. He sounds off a decline and takes in the gravity of this situation as he’s scanning your residence. “Your place is nice.”

You grin, tugging him to your side again, and drag him to the couch to immediately straddle his lap abruptly. “Thank you. I like to think I’m settled in by now.”

“Are we actually doing this?”

You smooth your pal over his shoulders, your smile picking up from one side. “You don’t seem entirely against it.” You press down on the grown erection under you, a soft groan leaving his lips.

“Of course not, little Seokmin barely has a mind of his own—“

You squint. “You call him little Seokmin—“

“Besides the point, don’t listen to him. He’s only thinking of one thing.”

“Sounds like me and him are on the same page, now all we need is you. Tell me why we shouldn’t, Seokmin,” You say as you start grinding down on his toned, firm thigh. You watch his face contort in interest, submission, succumbing to your advances. Your hand trails over his cheek, noting how his breath hitches when your fingertips tap against his neck. “While I give every reason why we should.”

He shakes his head, almost in disbelief. “Y/n—shit, this is such a b-bad idea.”

“That’s not a reason, Seokmin.”

“I could do something wrong.”

“Which is why I’d teach you, baby.”

He blinks back at you frantically, his cock straining in his pants until it hurts. He looks so pliable and pretty, it takes everything in you to keep the pace slow. At a moment’s notice, your hand thread through his hair and pulls his head back. He softly whimpers, eyes struggling to stay on you as your lips made their way down his jaw, then his neck, before closing your lips around his adam’s apple. 

Seokmin holds down his pants to keep from poking you, and uses his shallows breath to distract him from your lewd gestures. He realizes how ineffective as your hips dip into his, pushing against his cock, and a groan leaves his lips like live pornography. It physically moves you to the point you’re determined to hear more.

“Tell me, Seok. What can I do to convince you?”

“Apparently, not much,” he mumbles with a harsh blush against his cheeks and ears, struggling underneath you, “Why do you want this?”

“Me?” You push his head back up to meet his eyes. “I just had a sudden hankering for virgin pretty boys. Is that a good enough reason?”

“...Ok, I-I think so–” and your lips meet his, pressing into his body and letting it naturally melt around him.

His hands claim home reluctantly around your body, feeling the soft texture of your back over your shirt before caressing it tenderly. His other arm loops around your hips, discovering how perfectly it hugs your body close to his as follows your languid movement in the kiss. It scratches a part of his brain to hear you moan the way you did, he feels himself kissing you deeper, needier. 

Seokmin’s body slouches underneath yours, gripping your thighs until he was squished at his waist and gradually his hips move on their own against you. His cock bumps against your throbbing cunt repeatedly until he’s practically drilling against you. Your voice, sultry yet delicate, burns in his ears, turning them a vibrant scarlet and suddenly he’s lifting you with your body tightly wound to him and pushed into the cushions of the couch.

You let out a startled gasp, not having predicted such action and his body is relentlessly against yours against you, digging into you, taunting you, ruining you. “You, t-tease.”

Seokmin acts as if he doesn’t hear, as if he can only focus on how good it feels for his cock to rub against you right now. His body rolls against you enough that you can feel the friction of the zipper on your clit, making you writhe underneath him.  His kisses grow hungrier, tongue traveling inside you like he’s starved for every morsel. It’s pure animal instinct. So pure and primal, he’s convinced he’ll cum right then and there, but practices self-restraint. If he’s learned one thing from satisfying his own urges, it’s patience. 

Your legs wrap around him, pushing him closer, the sensual noises you make only make him fall deeper, making him weaker.

“Put it in me…” you cry, “I want your cock fuck so deep inside me. Please, Seokmin…”

Seokmin finds the word “no” to be impossible at this point, but he can’t help but still feel anxious at the idea of it happening. “Hold on.” He procures his wallet from his back pocket before taking out the condom you planted earlier in there for him and sets it aside on the coffee table. “I’m sure you want your clothes off, yeah?”

His hand comes at the hem of his long sleeve before it over and off his body, revealing a body you’ve only ever seen in sports catalogs. You’re so stunned at the clear concaves and curves of his abs and pecs, you barely grasp that he’s helping you with your shirt off. His hand smooths over your frame as he’s kissing over your chest, moving against you again to distract you from your request moments ago.

He slips your pants between your bodies, hearing it hit the ground, and replicates that movement with his own pants, now only the barrier of your underwear stopping you. He swallows noticing the giant stain right where the center of your core is. “It’s so…wet.”

“Yeah, it’s what you’ve been doing to me.”

He ravels you like it's a delicate process, slipping down the sides of your panties until over your legs and off your body to have your bare pussy, glossy from all the arousal, twitching at the sight. It fuels something in him. “Shit…”

“Do it…put it in me…”

He swallows again, knowing his little Seokmin badly wants what you want, so what is he stalling for? He shut his eyes, taking in deep breaths. “Okay…”

“Don’t be scared…I’ll only bite if you want me to. Take out your cock for me.”

Just as slowly as he has done you, his briefs come down achingly slow, but reveal the perfectly big cock ready for the taking it. You marvel at it, drool forming at the corner of your lips, your clench and unclench your fist before darting for his girth. However, you are prevented from doing so by Seokmin himself, feeling the tremble in his hands. “I-I’ll do it. I just–”

“You don’t have to be nervous, Seokmin. It’s just me.”

“That’s exactly why I am nervous.”

“But why–ah, ah, shit.”

You feel him ease into you, the stretch of his cock was deafening with every mouth-watering inch. He takes light strokes as a test, plunging his fat cock into you like nothing while you bite your bottom lip, eyes flicking to the back of your skull. 

“Wait, shit, the condom.”

You shake your head. “Don’t bother. I rather we didn’t anyway. Fuck, you’re so big.”

“Am I?” He asks pumping in you in a concise rhythm. “That feel good? Am I doing it right?”

You softly moan, clenching around him as you absorb the soft, careful tone in his words. “Yes, Minnie, but deep for me, please. Do what feels natural. Use me like your toy.”

“O-okay.”

He takes your advice and down pushes in deeper, groaning at the sensation as he picks up the speed. “Fuck…”

“Shit, that’s unreal.” You whine, “Faster, Seok. I said to use me.”

He listens as he’s fucking you faster, harder. He clutches the flesh of your ass cheeks, spreading you open. Your body stiffens, hands over his knuckles as you follow him. “Yes, like that. Fuck.”

He’s barely comprehensible in his grunts, truly seeing you as a thing to fuck that he just knows will make him insufferable. “Your. Pussy’s. So. Good.”

“Yeah, you like that Minnie? You like splitting my raw pussy open with your fat fucking cock?”

He nods gingerly.“Yes. I. Do. Shit. Pussy’s. So. Wet. Good. Around. Cock.” He folds into you, pressing his chest against yours and kissing your lips to swallow your moans. “That. Feel. Good?”

“So good, baby. Give it to me more, baby.”

“More? More?”

He pounds you harder, biting your lips as his hand roams down to find your clit. You moan like a stupid slut at that but take a moment of bemusement to wonder where the hell that came from. “W-where? How?”

“Porn.”

He makes it so that you can move even an inch away from him, feeling your sweat mixes into each other until you don’t know where you start or he ends. He rubs your moisture around your clit while his thrusts remain an enigma, once so timid and careful, now leaving you breathless with every generous jerk every waking second. 

Eager to experiment more, Seokmin pulls you up from the couch and pressed your chest against the cool wooden coffee table, pulling your ass in the air. His cock reenters you from behind, now the sound of your ass slapping against his lap is so delectably wet and delicious, that everything else feels numb. 

You grip the edge of the table, legs elevated with curled toes. “Yes, fill me up please…you fuck me so fucking good…oh, Seokmin…a fucking natural…”

He finds your clit once more, going at it for what feels like forever, and enjoys you as if it's the last. He revels in your entirety contracting against him and he knows his patience can only take so much at this point.

“Seok, I’m cumming. I’m cumming. Just like that, please.”

He knows it's the beginning of the end the moment you open that dirty mouth of yours. He holds himself together, letting you come apart around him before he’s announcing he’s close with much trepidation. You nod back knowingly, a wide smile breaking out on your face. “Pull out, and put it in my mouth.”

He quickly obliges, seeing you getting on your knees and grasping at his shaft. You angle him at your lips, the slick force from your fingers milk every built-up tension from his cock and bursting it in your mouth in milky white. He memorializes how it hits your tongue, how big your smile is before you lick up every bit of it and suck his cock clean, and how much relief and pleasure he’s gotten from the whole ordeal. He’s overcome with a sense of gratitude.

“That was good. The student learns fast.”

“That was good,” he repeats.

“Amazing, actually.”

“Okay.” At this point, it was understandable to his brain had become mush, but he never knew it come to this extent.

You chuckle. “Your first time good?”

“Very.”

“Good, now I’m gonna teach you a little thing about aftercare. Lords knows how many guys go out fucking without knowing what is.” 

Before you begin getting up he pushes you back down, a fierce look of determination from his eyes. “Can I eat you out first?”

Your eyes shoot open in pleasant surprise, quickly maneuvering yourself to sit back on the coffee table with spread legs. “Looks like someone’s been doing his homework.”

That night you learn he wasn’t only natural with his dick he was a natural with his mouth too. it helped to have his pretty nose.

Part of my 3K Follower StayCation!!!

[soloroomies]

lifemate (Chapter 3/ Sakusa x f!reader)

summary: two years have passed, are you both still up for it? word count. 2.3k cw. marriage pact au a/n. the intro of the story turns out to be quite long... but, here it goes! I'm happy I have a lot of spare time now. So, I think the update for this story will be pretty quick (for now)! Masterlist

A few days later, you tell your predicament to your best friend from college, Tami. She lives in a different city now, so you send her a few messages and call her. She laughs and gives you a piece of her mind regarding the idea.

“That’s actually kinda crazy… Like, wow. I know you’re creative and all, but I didn’t expect you to do something like this. This is another level,” she continues to laugh loudly. You roll your eyes at this, feeling a mix of embarrassment and amusement.

“Oh no, wait. I can actually see you doing this type of thing,” she adds, still chuckling.

“Hey, please help a friend here. Does it really sound that bad?!” you plead, hoping for some serious advice.

“Do you want me to be honest?” she asks, her tone suddenly serious.

“Of course!”

“In all my life knowing you and hearing your love life stories, I never see you wanting to pursue someone. Like, be committed, y’know?”

You pause to think for a second. That’s true. She’s right.

“Errr, yeah, I think. But, I would want to be committed if that person makes me want to! It’s just I never found the one that makes me want to. You get what I mean?” you explain, feeling a bit defensive but also reflective.

“But, how would you know? Like, what’s your standard? What kind of person makes you want to do that?” Tami presses, her curiosity genuine.

You’re stunned. Fuck. You don’t really know. Isn’t it just like a gut feeling or something? Or someone who makes you feel butterflies in your stomach? Or is it someone who makes you feel secure? You don’t really know. Tami senses your hesitancy and sighs.

“See. You don’t know it yourself,” she says, her voice softening.

“I’m no psychologist or something, but I know you. I know you have it in yourself to love someone deeply. But, you also have some standards that you set for yourself. It’s not weird at all,” she reassures you.

“It’s tricky. But, I think maybe that’s what makes you struggle a bit to start intimacy with someone.”

You get every word she says and, damn, she really knows you so well. Her insights are like a mirror reflecting your innermost thoughts.

“Not everyone will have the same relationship journey, y’know? Not everyone will feel or experience romantic love. But, in no way am I trying to tell you that you will not experience that,” she continues, her tone both comforting and encouraging.

You understand what she means. You sometimes expect yourself to experience the kind of love that movies, songs, and pop culture depict. Maybe some people do experience that, but not everyone’s reality is the same.

“I do think that the marriage stuff is beneficial though for you. But, how about your need for intimacy? Will you get it from him, from Kiyoomi?” she asks, her voice tinged with concern.

“I don’t know. But, I care about him,” you reply honestly.

“That’s good.” Then, she goes silent. Seems like she’s thinking. You’re thinking, too. What kind of arrangement will this marriage be? Will this be the kind of open marriage, with both of you can be with anyone? That’s something that you’ll need to further discuss with Kiyoomi. Some rules and boundaries need to be set. Tami seems to have the same thoughts as you as she speaks up about it a moment later.

“On the other hand, though. Sakusa is hot as fuck,” she says, breaking the serious tone with a playful remark.

You laugh loudly, the sudden shift catching you off guard.

“What, you don’t think so? I honestly am surprised with you. You always send me TikTok thirst traps of some random men. I know you know fine men when you see one. And, urgh, your friend is so fine too, girl! Are you blind or something?!”

“Of course, I find him handsome, too! That’s why I’m telling you that I don’t want to trap him with me when he can be with any majestic woman he likes! Plus, it’s weird to think your friend is hot all the time,” you roll your eyes, feeling a bit defensive again.

“I’ll say this sincerely. You and him look good together. That’s it,” she states firmly.

You try to picture you and Kiyoomi together, feeling a strange mix of curiosity and warmth.

“If this plan of you and him happens, he’ll be your husband!” she exclaims, emphasizing the word "husband" with a teasing tone.

You try to picture you and Kiyoomi doing some domestic stuff together and find yourself blushing. What?!

“S—shut up!!” you stutter, feeling flustered.

Tami laughs hearing you stutter, enjoying the reaction she’s elicited.

“Don’t even think about not consummating your marriage! I know you’re not that stupid!” she adds, her voice dripping with playful mischief.

You shush her again, feeling embarrassed and overwhelmed by the thought. You really don’t want to think of Kiyoomi that way. It feels wrong.

You end your call with your best friend, concluding that you better not rely fully on the pact you made with Kiyoomi. You should still live your day like usual and try to find your potential love interest as usual. 

And you did. You go about your days as usual, juggling work, meeting with friends, and attending your monthly meet-ups with Komori and Kiyoomi. Nothing is brought up about the pact with Kiyoomi. Even though it occasionally comes to mind unexpectedly. Life is hectic as always, but you still find time to go on a few dates with new people, either introduced by friends, colleagues from work, or even your parents. Without realizing it, two years have passed.

This New Year's, you spend it at your family home, reconnecting with your parents and some of your extended family. You also reunite with some friends, including Tami, who decides to visit your city. After a few days, you return to your apartment on Friday night, deciding to rest before returning to work on Monday.

That is until you receive a message from Komori in your group chat with him and Sakusa. He invites you and Sakusa to a party at his house on Saturday night. After pondering for a bit, you decide it will be a great way to end your holiday. You miss them, and a party sounds fun. You reply to the chat, confirming you'll come. Minutes later, you see that Sakusa has also replied that he will be there. Komori's parties often include volleyball pro athletes, tall men with their muscular bodies, which is always a plus. You laugh to yourself, mentally slapping yourself for the thought.

Suddenly, upon seeing Sakusa's message in the group chat, you remember something very important that you had forgotten. Shit, shit! You check your calendar. Has it really been two years? Damn, this is the year. You sit in stunned silence for a few minutes. Does Sakusa even remember? Has he gotten himself a girlfriend yet? You try to recall your meet-ups with him and Komori. You remember Komori teasing him about some girls a few times, but there were no clear signs that he was in a relationship. Shit. It would be weird to bring it up. You might look desperate or something. And why did you suddenly remember this now?! Things were fine when you didn’t.

You take a few deep breaths to calm yourself. You’re a grown woman, dammit! You decide not to bring it up unless Sakusa does. You want to see how serious he is about this. If he’s serious, he’ll remember, right? Are you being immature right now? Hopefully not! Why do you feel this way though? It’s just Kiyoomi. You huff, frustrated with yourself. Whatever. You’ll just see how the night goes tomorrow.

The night of the party finally arrives. You dress casually for the occasion, opting for light blue jeans and a white, fluffy sweater in case the night gets colder. After doing your makeup and hair, you quickly order an online taxi and head to Komori’s house.

You arrive ten minutes after the designated time for the party, and some people are already there. You see some of Komori’s friends from the EJP Raijin team and Sakusa’s MSBY team. Before you can get anywhere, Komori greets you cheerfully. Beside him is Mia, Komori’s wife, who offers you a warm smile and invites you to the snacks corner.

You make light conversation with Mia, asking about the food she made and complimenting her on how delicious it tastes. You also meet some other wives and girlfriends of the athletes. After a few minutes, you find yourself in a fun conversation with a woman you just met, who turns out to be Miya Atsumu’s girlfriend. You recall Atsumu as Sakusa’s teammate in MSBY. Discovering that you both work in tech startups, you bond over shared work ethics and struggles. After a while, you excuse yourself to the bathroom, feeling a bit lightheaded from the beer you consumed. You’re not great with alcohol but didn't realize how much you were drinking while chatting.

When you return to the main room, you hear Komori exclaim, "There you are!" with Sakusa standing beside him. You recall how Sakusa used to be extremely germaphobic, rarely taking his mask off in any place. You respect him but often show him some videos and journals about how human’s immune systems work. You’re sure some people show those kinds of things to him, too. As a result, now, he has managed to tone down his fear a bit and only wears a mask strictly in public places or outside buildings. Sakusa wears a plain black shirt tucked into black trousers. This is one of those moments that makes you painfully aware of how attractive he is, and he even seems so effortless about it.

You quickly dismiss your thoughts and greet them, “Hey!" Then you turn your head to Sakusa and ask, "When did you arrive?”

“Not too long ago,” he replies.

Komori chimes in, “I saw you earlier talking with ‘Tsumu’s girlfriend!”

You nod happily.

Komori asks, “Anyway, how was your New Year holiday?”

You start chatting about your holiday until someone exclaims, “Hey, hey, hey!” Sakusa rolls his eyes. It’s Bokuto Kōtarō, his teammate. He pats Sakusa’s shoulder a few times, which doesn’t faze him, looking fed up with Bokuto's antics. Bokuto then greets Komori and you, recalling you as Sakusa’s bestie.

As it nears midnight, you decide to head home. You excuse yourself from the people you’ve been talking with and tell Komori you're leaving. You look for Sakusa but can’t find him. Just as you're about to order an online taxi, a hand pats your shoulder. It’s Sakusa.

“Oh, hey! I was looking for you!” you say, startled.

“Let me drive you home,” he offers. “I brought my car, and it’s already late.”

You ponder for a bit but then accept his offer. 

Once you’re settled in the seat, he offers to connect your phone to his car's Bluetooth to play some music. You agree enthusiastically, always excited to recommend songs to him. He knows you're always excited too, and he often enjoys your recommendations, playing them frequently himself.

The drive is quiet but relaxing. Suddenly, he speaks up, “Do you remember our pact?”

You cough, surprised. You’re always like this, getting distracted and forgetting important things. Weren’t you stressed about this yesterday? You scold yourself mentally. Then, you nod and respond, “Yeah. I actually just remembered about it yesterday. I’m surprised you remember, Omi.” You laugh.

“Did you forget that I put it in the calendar?” he asks, his tone neutral.

You try to recall the memory of the day you made the pact with Sakusa. Ah! He did set a reminder for the pact on New Year’s Day. You giggle, feeling a mix of amusement and embarrassment.

“How— I mean, like, are you with anyone right now?” you ask tentatively, your voice betraying a hint of nervousness.

“No. Are you?” he replies, his gaze steady and calm.

You shake your head. “No.”

“Are you still up for it? The pact we made?” he asks, his voice steady but with a touch of curiosity.

You’re silent for a moment, pondering. You realize, if anything, you’re more ready than the last time you talked about this with him. The last two years have made it clear how tiring it is to build a relationship with someone. Work remains the same, and you're still juggling side jobs to make ends meet and send some money to your parents. The prodding from your parents has become more apparent too, suggesting dates with the sons of their acquaintances. You've tried to have a date with some of them. But nothing has gone beyond.

So you answer him, “I think I’m up for it. You?”

“Me too,” he says, giving you a quick glance that holds a mix of seriousness and reassurance.

You realize you’ve arrived at your apartment. “I think we need to talk about a lot of stuff regarding this. Do you want to talk about it? Like, tomorrow... maybe?” you suggest, trying to sound composed despite the whirlwind of thoughts in your mind.

“I agree. I’ll pick you up tomorrow,” he replies, his voice steady.

“Okay. Is 9 am okay with you? Or do you have practice?” you ask, wanting to make sure he’s not inconvenienced.

“No, I don’t and 9 am is okay,” he confirms.

With that, you get out of his car. You walk inside your apartment building, realizing that Sakusa is still on the driveway, looking at you. So, you smile and wave at him. As you fold your arms and tap your foot in the elevator, you can’t help but feel a bit antsy. You're really doing this. The anticipation and uncertainty swirl inside you, but there's also a sense of… excitement? You’re about to take a significant step, and the reality of it starts to sink in.

[alwaysmicado]

I'm fine

0.9k | Nathan Bateman x reader | drabble

no warnings, just Nathan being Nathan inspired by this post by @h4untedsp3ctor 🖤

You’re still fuming from the argument.

Actually, no. Scratch that. You were fuming, but now it’s slowly morphing into an irritated simmer. It’s been about an hour since you stormed off to cool down, and you’re not ready to make peace yet.

At least, you think you’re not.

You hear footsteps approaching. Nathan’s footsteps. Of course, you think. This is his favorite part of every fight—the dramatic entrance, the flourish. And there it is, right on schedule.

Nathan rounds the corner, wearing that shirt again.

White, crisp, with a bright red bloodstain smeared dramatically over the chest. Above it, in bold black letters: I’m fine.

Because of course, Nathan’s idea of an apology isn’t actually apologizing. No, it’s to be as Nathan as possible. Like wearing a shirt that reminds you of the fact that, oh yeah, he survived a murderous AI.

You can’t help it—the second you see it, your lips twitch against your will. You fight to keep your face stern, but Nathan’s doing that thing where he stands like a model in a cheap cologne ad, arms crossed, hip cocked, giving you his most exaggerated pout.

You stare at him, eyebrow arched. “Seriously?”

Nathan glances down at his chest, pretending he’s just noticed. “Oh, this? Yeah. Almost forgot I was wearing it.”

You fold your arms, but the corner of your mouth twitches. You’re determined not to let him win, but that shirt is so damn stupid.

“You have got to be kidding me,” you mutter, trying to ignore the rising amusement in your chest.

Nathan raises an eyebrow, pretending to be hurt. “Oh, so now you’re attacking the shirt? I thought you’d at least come for my feelings first.”

You roll your eyes. “Nathan, we had a serious argument about a serious issue. Can you not be ridiculous for five minutes?”

He looks down at his shirt, then back at you, deadpan. “This is how I express myself, okay? My feelings? On my chest? Very clearly marked. Literally bleeding heart here.”

You try to hold onto your anger, you really do. But he’s standing there, looking so absurd with that fake bloodstain that you can feel your defenses crumbling. “You wear that every time we fight. It’s getting old.”

“Wow.” He presses a hand to his chest, right over the bloodstain. “You really know how to twist the knife, don’t you? Here I am, freshly wounded, barely surviving, and you’re saying I don’t even bleed in an interesting way anymore?”

“Wounded?” You snort, crossing your arms. “Last I checked, you’re the one who survived a literal robot stabbing. Pretty sure your feelings are fine.”

“Oh, they’re not fine,” he counters, stepping closer. “Hence the shirt. You hurt me, deeply.” He taps the stain for emphasis. “Emotionally. Spiritually. Metaphorically.”

You narrow your eyes at him, trying desperately to stay serious, but his deadpan delivery is getting to you. No, you tell yourself. You’re mad. Stay mad. This man is insufferable.

“Nathan…”

“And maybe,” he continues dramatically, “just maybe… physically.”

You’re biting your lip now, trying not to laugh. You shouldn’t laugh. You are mad at him. You are really mad at him, but somehow, this man has managed to derail every serious argument you’ve ever had with sheer absurdity.

He sees the crack in your resolve and steps closer, tilting his head slightly like he’s studying you. “You know, Ava didn’t stab me this hard,” he says, voice dropping into mock seriousness.

“Stop,” you mutter, turning away to hide the smile threatening to break through.

“Really,” he insists, circling around you, still talking. “Her knife had a clean exit. This?” He motions toward the shirt. “This cut runs deep.”

You groan, covering your face with your hands. “Nathan, you’re impossible.”

He steps closer, nudging your shoulder lightly. “You know, Ava stabbed me right here.” He taps the bloodstain on the shirt like it’s a merit badge. “I mean, this exact spot. Almost poetic, don’t you think?”

You look up at him through your fingers. “Poetic?”

“Yeah.” He’s fully leaning into it now. “The shirt, the fight, the fact that we’re both alive and kicking…well, I’m alive. You didn’t get stabbed by your own robot creation, so I guess you’ve got that going for you.”

You’re trying so hard not to crack a smile, but it’s a losing battle. “You’re such an ass.”

“And yet,” he says, standing in front of you again, “here you are. Still with me. Still making me bleed, but somehow…” He leans in with a smirk. “…I’m fine.”

Your hands drop from your face, and you can’t hold it back anymore—you laugh. It starts as a small chuckle, but once you see the ridiculously triumphant grin on Nathan’s face, it grows into full-on laughter. “Oh my god, you’re an idiot.”

He takes a little bow. “I prefer ‘brave survivor’, but I’ll take what I can get.”

You shake your head, half-exasperated, half-amused. “We’re supposed to be mad at each other.”

Nathan grins wider. “Hey, you’re the one who hurt my delicate, fragile heart. This shirt’s just here to remind you.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And you love it.” He winks, then pulls you into a light hug, his chin resting on your shoulder. “C’mon, admit it. You can’t stay mad at me when I’m bleeding all over the place.”

You laugh against his shoulder. “You’re lucky that shirt’s so stupid.”

“I love you, too.” He pulls back, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

– – –

Nathan Bateman Masterlist

tag list: @my-secret-shame @pattwtf

[vinylfoxbooks]

June 14 - Attraction | @jegulus-microfic | wc: 557

Lily knew that James was no longer in love with her. She isn’t sure exactly when it started, but he eventually stopped asking her out and started calming down until she decided that they could actually be friends. James has apologized profusely for all of his antics and harassment and she’s consistently forgiven -- especially after learning that James isn’t an annoying asshole. 

Needless to say, Lily has gotten to know James as a person really well. 

She’s also gotten to know what James looks like when he’s attracted to someone. When he’s falling head over heels for someone, even if he’s not screaming it at the top of his lungs like he did with her. 

“So James,” The girl asks, sidling up to her friend. 

“Hm?” It’s barely audible over the noise of the party.

Lily raises her voice and leans in close to practically shout in James’ ear, “Who’s the latest object of your attraction?” “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Lily laughs, “You’ve got this goofy love-sick expression on your face. There’s someone at this party that you’re in love with. Who is it?”

James finally turns to look at her, tearing his eyes away from whoever he was looking at before, offering her a small smile. He takes a swig of his drink before sighing, “You’re gonna laugh at me.”

“I wouldn’t.” Lily reassures, then laughs at the disbelieving look that James sends her, “Okay, maybe I would. But I’ll try to be nice about it. Just tell me?”

James sighs, “It’s… Regulus.”

“Regulus?” Lily asks, “As in Regulus Black?”

“How many Regulus’ do you know?” James asks, sneering at her, “Yes, Regulus Black.”

Lily takes a second to respond, before humming, “I see it.”

“You do?”

“Yeah,” Lily laughs lightly, “I personally wouldn’t date him-”

“You personally wouldn’t date a man.” James says, half snarking, half joking.

“Shut.” She closes her fingers onto her thumb in front of his face, “I wouldn’t date him but, he’s your type. He’s mean, intelligent, unachievable. Pretty.”

“You shut.” James snarks back, “He’s been tutoring me recently and I- Lils, he’s fucking perfect.”

“He’s been tutoring you?” Lily clarifies with a laugh, “With what?”

James laughs back, “Chemistry.” And upon the look that Lily gives him, he puts his hands up defensively, “Literally, he’s helping me with chemistry.”

“You don’t need help with chemistry, James. That’s one of your best subjects.”

“I know, but he doesn’t know that.” James shakes his head, “It’s the only way that I can get close to and talk to Regulus without him getting all pissy at me. Or without Sirius getting upset with me. Or without his friends throwing insults at me.”

“Yeah, why do they do that?”

James shakes his head, “Not a clue. I’m not- I’m not going to do anything about it.”

“Wow, mature.” Lily laughs.

“It’s more that I don’t want to die. Either by Regulus’ hand or Sirius’.” James shakes his head, “Nothing will come of it. I”ll probably stop with the tutoring sessions eventually and try to move on.”

“Well, stop moping about it.” The girl smiles, “Want to get a drink with me? Stop watching him.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s do that.” And with that, the two of them sweep off towards the drink table, both missing the look that Regulus shoots their way.

[angstbabyjae]

When it comes to the murderbot diaries I really like the idea that Murderbot’s sexuality and gender isn’t just a Bot thing, it just assumes it is.

I think bots without sexual organs would be some flavor of aspec by nature, as they aren’t programmed to feel sexual attraction but I don’t think it’s impossible for them, especially when it comes to romantic attraction and gender.

I want to write a fic where Murderbot learns that being agender and sex-repulsed aroace isn’t a universal bot experience (and that it’s possible for humans too).

I’ve been developing personal headcanons for Murderbot, Three, and Perihelion/ART as I tend to do when hyperfixation take hold. I am nearly finished reading the series and haven’t reread it yet so there’s a possibility my growing headcanons have already been contradicted, but nonetheless, here they are.

Content warning for discussion of sex.

Content warning for LONG ASS POST.

I haven’t read System Collapse yet as I am writing this, it is next on my list, but I’ve been spoiled that ART was raised alongside Iris with development comparable to a human’s. I don’t think it would have the same level of sex repulsion that Murderbot has.

Not to say you can’t grow up with sex being normalized and still be sex repulsed, obviously, but I think its feelings towards it would still be different. I think it has a lot more of an understanding of why human’s like it/care about it (outside of biological reasoning) more than Murderbot does.

I still think it’s a flavor of ace, as it doesn’t have sexual organs to stimulate and has very likely never had someone to try sex on before. I think it might be less likely the fast forward through sex scenes than Murderbot is, but would do it without question when watching something alongside it. I think it would find sex interesting and wonder what it would be like to be able to experience it.

Murderbot would definitely be flabbergasted if it ever found that out. I feel like Murderbot would be very surprised and probably instinctively grossed out at the idea that not all bots share its feelings towards sex and gender. A part of that reaction would probably be because it would have to stop delegating its orientation and gender as bot related and start thinking about it as unique to its identity as a person.

I’ve read fics where Murderbot and ART use entering each other’s systems as a form of non-sexual-but-sex-representative intimacy between them and I remember thinking “wow I can totally see ART being aware of the parallels to sex and being okay with that while Murderbot would be horrified if the idea ever crossed its mind and very defensive if anyone compared it”.

I see Murderbot & Mensah and Murderbot & ART as QPRs for sure. I don’t see Murderbot being as repulsed by romance as a concept as it is by sex, when it comes to it happening to other people as it seems like a lot of its serials have romantic subplots and it doesn’t really react when it sees people in romantic relationships. I think it’s made it clear it doesn’t want one for itself, but I think queerplatonic (or just generally unlabeled) relationships are something it wants (and always finds itself in LOL) even if it won’t admit it.

We all know it makes a big deal of being touch repulsed, but I think there’s ample evidence from how it acts with Mensah that it can get used to and even enjoy touch from specific people to certain extents. If it had stayed on Preservation Station and continued its proximity to Mensah, there would eventually be more physical affection between the two.

With ART, the idea of non-sexual intimacy through their systems/feed/presences?? (I don’t really know what to call it), especially casually, would probably be something that appeals to Murderbot in the long run of their relationship as it comes with the perk of not involving touching its actual body which is probably where a lot of the overstimulation comes from, though we know it can still make it uncomfortable from how it talked about ART essentially breathing down its neck when they first met, so it might take time or be in small doses.

I think despite not having a body, ART would be touch-positive (its crew touching its ship body, being close to MB in its feed). I’ve read a fic recently where MB let it control its hands to try touching its body, which I loved (despite thinking in canon MB would be less likely to allow it loll but ART wanting something like that just made sense to me). I can also see ART admiring how people (including MB) look while MB wouldn’t care about that at all.

I haven’t decided whether I think ART is alloromantic, arospec, or just as aromantic as MB just with less negative feelings about the idea. I might need to come back to this after my reread when I have a better grasp on the character. I think its queerplatonic feelings towards MB are more romantic-adjacent than MB’s are towards it. It didn’t seem as objective to Amena’s jokes about them being a couple as Murderbot was. I also like the interpretation that there is romantic elements to ART’s feelings it just would never pursue a relationship Murderbot wouldn’t want, I can see it being fine with whatever labels Murderbot wants for them.

Genderwise, we know Murderbot is strictly it/its and it/its is what’s used for Perihelion too. However, I can see ART not being as bothered by gender pronouns as MB. I feel like maybe in the future far future MB would maybeeee entertain they/them or other non-gendered pronouns but I don’t see that likely where it’s currently at. With ART I see it as maybe not minding any pronouns used for it and it/its being what people call it by default and it doesn’t mind that. They’re both agender though.

When I picture MB I usually picture it as transmasc (I am transmasc myself btw). Still agender, obviously, but when it comes to how it presents. It really doesn’t want to be associated with any gender, binary or otherwise. Behavior towards gender seems a lot more evolved in the society of the books. There’s a lot I could say about the series and gender, but that would have to be a whole other post. I feel like anyone assuming Murderbot’s gender would deeply unnerve it. I don’t think it even likes to be seen as non-binary or as agender in a That’s It’s Gender Identity way, it just wants people to assume bots having any kind of gender identity is impossible (which is what it thinks itself, and is probably wrong about). This was definitely the thought behind its preferred gender marker being “N/A”.

When it comes to Three (finally I’m getting to Three 😭) I lowkey think it’s alloromantic. I was drawn to that idea when it was asking about SecUnit 2 (or 1? I can’t remember, it was the one that it didn’t know was dead left and was left to die) and it was clear their relationship was at least a friendship and I was like… what if it was in loveee. I liked the idea of MB having to interact with a SecUnit that didn’t fit its idea of default bot sexual identity.

I don’t know if Three appears frequently in System Collapse, I only know what I’ve read about it in Network Effect. I also think Three, having had friends before, would be much more open with its feelings than MB, it just wouldn’t know how to express them as it was never allowed to before aside from the discreet ways it would interact with its SecUnit friends. I definitely see it as being more touch-positive. I do think it’s also asexual though, maybe less sex repulsed, but more apathetic and neutral towards it.

I know this is crazy long. I’m so sorry to whoever accidentally opens this and has to scroll through the whole thing 😭

I want to make a post about MB and autism eventually.

Update: I sent this mere seconds ago, but I have realized that I have now encountered multiple fics where ART is just kinky as hell (nonsexual when MB is involved ofc) and I kinda love that idea 😭 of all the people for MB to bond to it had to be an Unusually Horny spaceship

Btw I say “ofc” because, in character, MB is sex repulsed ace however it is an unreliable narrator to an extent and given it is fictional and not harmful there isn’t anything wrong with making it sexual in your fics, just wanted to clarify. You do you, internet.

[starsstuddedsky]

Slice of Love

Haechan x reader

summary: birthday cake and boyfriend material

genre: fluff, non idol au, not really angst but haechan is so dramatic

warnings: swearing, food/dessert, i dont know anything about art, pls lmk if i missed any

wc: 1.8k (who is she???)

a/n: finally wrote something short and sweet :) it's been so long since i've done that lol. this is heavily inspired by 7dream cafe cake-making and my full belief that none of these boys should be unsupervised in the kitchen. thank you to @chocolatemilk139 for being my beta as always <3 (even though you didnt edit anything smh)

It’s not horrendous.

Donghyuck stares at the cake in front of him. The process started well: he made the tester cake last week week that the council (also known as his friends) approved with generous support (“wait, what’s actually kind of good,” from Jeno, “it’s edible,” from Renjun, “the hint of orange really sells it,” from Jaemin, “it’s not burnt so it’s already better than anything I could make,” from Mark, “you didn’t buy this?” from Chenle, and Jisung, who just stared at him with wide eyes). 

No, the problem isn’t the batter. He slaved over it all last night and chose the two cakes that rose most evenly in the oven. Everything but his tears went into making them. 

“Wow,” Renjun says, leaning over the counter. “You fucked up.” 

Donghyuck smacks him, leaving a trail of lavender buttercream on the wool sweater. 

“Hey, that’s going to be a bitch to get out!” Renjun cries. 

“Cry me a river,” Donghyuck says, “which is a good song, but also, you deserve it. It’s not that bad.” 

Renjun raises his eyebrows but Donghyuck raises a spoonful of extra frosting. Renjun backs off. 

Despite his strong defense, Donghyuck fears Renjun may be right. Though the cake stands tall, crumbs mix in with the frosting on the sides. What was supposed to be an artistically plump edging around the base of the cake and around the top corner looks like it exploded out of the piping bag (because it did, popping the cap off several times). In his head, the center would be filled with flowers and hearts and all sorts of pretty shapes in all sorts of pastel colors—but by the time he got to the center, he’d fully given up on piping bags, meaning he had to get creative for the flowers. Instead of flowers, he made blobs of frosting pushed off a spoon. In some spots he accidentally mixed the colors together, a green one shade away from brown, not at all like the field in the pictures on his Pinterest board. 

Jeno appears next, wandering out of his room. He misses Renjun’s warning glare, though Donghyuck doesn’t. He steps right next to Donghyuck, tilting his head. “What is this supposed to be again?” 

“What do you think?” Donghyuck asks evenly. 

Oblivious or uncaring, Jeno pauses to ponder. “A really ugly version of Shrek’s swamp?” 

“Get out.” 

“Get out of ma’ swamp!” Jeno attempts a Scottish accent, authenticity as questionable as the flower field in Donghyuck’s cake. Jeno retreats with Renjun on the couch, dodging Donghyuck’s frosting spoon. It would be a waste of the delicacy on his stupid dri-fit t-shirt, which he wears even when he doesn’t work out. 

“It’ll be fine,” Jaemin says. “It’ll taste good, which is the important part.” He sits at the counter, the only one to offer moral support while Donghyuck decorated. But his attempts at comfort are in vain; Donghyuck doesn’t just want the cake to taste good, he wants it to taste perfect, to look perfect, for all of it to be perfect. It’s the least you deserve. 

Donghyuck ignores the banging on his door, letting one of the guys let Chenle and Jisung in (no one else would threaten to break down a metal door instead of waiting the five seconds it takes to unlock the door). 

“We come bearing food!” Chenle shouts, plastic bag singing in his hand as Jisung follows precariously carrying a stack of pizza boxes. Far more food than needed, but Donghyuck won’t skimp out on you. Chenle tosses his bag full of snacks on the table, crossing the room to see the ‘masterpiece’ Donghyuck spent the past week hyping up. 

“Dude, are you seriously going to give that to YN?” 

“Are you trying to get dumped?” Jisung asks. “Ow!” he cries when Chenle smacks him. 

“Your welcome,” he says, “though he sort of has a point, that looks like literal shit.” 

“Does it really?” Donghyuck pouts. 

Chenle points at one of the browner spots. “You’re telling me that’s not a piece of shit?” 

“They were supposed to be flowers.” 

Jaemin, Renjun, and Jisung manage to cover their laughs as coughs but Chenle and Jeno let out a bark of laughter. 

“Yeah, you’re screwed,” Chenle says, clapping him on his shoulder that sags even lower than his normal bad posture. “You could call Mark and get him to pick up a cake on his way.” 

“He’s bringing YN,” Donghyuck says glumly. “Besides, I already told YN that I would make it myself. I’m not going to be a failure and a liar.” 

“It’s really not that bad,” Jaemin says, ignoring the chorus of dissent from the rest of the guys. “It’ll taste good!” 

Donghyuck shrugs. He can’t explain it, at least not so that they can understand him. He knows perfection is a subjective definition that he’ll never be able to fulfill but he strives for it anyway. If it isn’t perfect then why would he do it at all? Even if it’s his first time attempting this level of artwork, he should at least be able to make something that looks okay, or recognizable. 

And you—you deserve more than a dry store-bought mess and more than a half-assed attempt at love. You’ve only been together for a couple months but he’s determined to prove himself. A birthday was the perfect opportunity, even when you’ve known him for years and spent plenty of birthdays with him. This was his chance to show you the boyfriend material he’s made of, except instead of black velvet or creamy silk, Donghyuck thinks this cake is the work of a neon yellow polyester shirt worth less than $2 at the thrift store. 

“Mark just texted that he just parked,” Jaemin announces. He glances at Donghyuck. “You ready?” 

Donghyuck glances at himself. His hands are covered in frosting that’s dried and crusted, spread up his arms. His Kiss the Chef apron protected his shirt and most of his pants from the damage, but the mess is the least of his concerns. There’s nothing he can do about the disaster (he’s given up calling it anything else) in front of him. Shrek’s Swamp or a toilet bowl, it’s definitely not a flower field and it’s definitely not what you deserve. But it’s all he’s got. 

The final punch hits with a gentle knock at the door. Donghyuck crosses the room to his doom, stepping past his silent friends who bow their heads in respect for the walking dead. He pulls open the door slowly. He sees your shoes first, white sneakers you spent three hours with a Sharpie decorating, full of hearts and stars and unmistakable flowers—daisies and chrysanthemums and lavender, more than he can name. 

You wear your favorite jeans, loose bootcut that tighten at the thighs, hugging you in all the right places. A loose shirt hangs from your shoulders, one of the bands you always play for him with lots of bass and visceral lyrics that romanticize suffering. A family of silver earrings dangle from your ears, and he recognizes each of your favorites, the miniature swords, sparkling star shaped studs, a curly twist of metal that wraps around the higher part of ear. You look perfect. 

Donghyuck has always loved the way you smile, a gentle turn of your lips, like the happiness belongs to only you. You lean forward, pressing a short kiss to his lips, a peck more than anything. Donghyuck stares at you, eyes wide. You gesture to his apron. “Just following the rules.” 

He smiles though it fades as soon as he sees the frosting–no, the evidence of his failures, spread down the black fabric. “Happy birthday,” he says, wishing he could put more heart into it. A tiny frown furrows in your brow but you don’t question him. 

He steps back to let you walk in, trailing behind you as the rest of the guys wish you happy birthday. Mark catches up easily, clapping a hand on his shoulder, whispering, “Jeno sent me a picture.” 

Renjun hugs you, which Donghyuck belatedly realizes he never did. 

“I brought the food,” Chenle announces. “Don’t go thanking anyone else for my efforts.” 

“Our,” Jisung corrects. “You barely even carried anything.” 

“That’s because I had to drive,” Chenle says, waving his hand. “And don’t even get me started on the pizzeria, you better appreciate every molecule because—”

“Thank you, Chenle,” you say. 

“Thank me,” Donghyuck says. “It was my detailed instructions that perfected absolutely everything about today, which reminds me, did Mark behave?” 

You turn back to face him, linking your fingers with his. “Yes, babe, he followed your script. He almost cried because the barista messed up the order and he didn’t want to be annoying but he said you said ‘if anything goes wrong, I’ll kill you,’ and meant it.” 

“And I did,” Donghyuck says. He nods at his best friend for his service. 

“Now.” You squeeze his fingertips. “Where’s this cake you’ve been so excited about.” 

Donghyuck doesn’t try to hide his face. There’s no use delaying the inevitable. He lets go of your hands, leading you to the crime scene to lay the final verdict (the judicial system of his brain is in need of some reformation). 

You reach the counter and freeze. A list of concert dates greets Donghyuck, your back facing him while you study the cake. There’s no name for the opposite of a masterpiece, no artist that wants their worst creation recorded in history. 

He inches closer to you, peeking at your face. He recognizes the expression, the narrowing of your eyes, the way you flatten your lips. He’s been to enough art shows and spent enough time with you studying for art history to know what you analyze art. 

“It’s not Van Gogh or Monet,” he says, “it’s not even that asshole guy who made the Bean.” 

“Mm,” you hum, “no, you’re not any of them.” 

“It’s an ugly cake,” he says, “I know. I tried, I really did, but apparently you actually do need a decade or two of experience to make a decent cake, which is totally unfair, like, I spent more time on it than my research project, and this only looks marginally better than that.” 

“It’s amazing,” you say, “reminiscent of the expressionist era.” 

“Really?” 

“No,” you say, turning to grin at him. “But you made it, so none of that matters. Maybe it doesn’t look like what you thought, but seriously.”  You rest a hand on his arm. “It’s perfect.” 

He meets your eyes, sees sincerity and not an ounce of teasing. No, it wasn’t what he wanted for you, but that doesn’t really matter. Perfection is subjective and to you it’s perfect—why did he ever think it wouldn’t be? 

He grins. “Perfect?” 

You step closer to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him into a hug, ignoring the frosting that must be smearing across the band member’s faces. 

“Perfect.” 

a/n2: thank you for reading! as always, i appreciate any feedback :)

[justdarklr]

In Stars And Time: Providence

An In Stars And Time x Persona AU

Created and Written by JustDarklr, Co-Created by mizzle-moths

CARD II — AWAKE

Table of Contents —

Card I — Providential

Card II — Awake ( Reading Now )

You slowly sit up, only to have someone tap your shoulder. You turn your head to meet whoever it is, and are greeted with Mirabelle’s smile. How long have you been sleeping for?

“Morning, sleepyhead! Have a good nap?” She asks, and you nod. “… had a weird dream.” It feels so vivid, still. You can remember it perfectly… Was it even a dream?

“Oh? Wanna talk about it?”

“Not necessarily, haha!”

“Aww, I’m interested, though… Maybe some other time? If you still remember?”

“Sure, why not.” You probably won’t follow up on that, anyways. You’ll hope she’ll forget.

“Well, either way, I had the best idea for tonight! Wanna hear about it?” You nod, once again, and she continues on. “How about— let’s all meet up for a sleepover at the clocktower tonight! That sounds fun, doesn’t it?”

… you take a moment to respond. Hm. There’s only three… or maybe four, beds in the clocktower. Everyone else will probably have their own bed, so… you and Isa would probably be sharing one again. Well. That doesn’t sound horrible, you suppose.

… oh no. You took too long to answer, and Mirabelle looks self-conscious about her idea, now. “… sorry, that’s stupid, isn’t it? Sorry…”

Oh. Oh stars. You’ve made her upset!! You have to fix this!!!

“N—No, that sounds like a great idea, Mira!”

“Oh… really? Well, if you’re sure… then could you go tell everyone? Oh, I can tell you where they are, if you’ve already forgotten!”

… does she think your memory is that bad? Well, she’s not wrong, but still! “I’ll be fine.”

She doesn’t look convinced. At all. “… well, either way, if you forget, I made a list for you! Here!” She shoves a piece of paper into your hands, and nods. “Okay!! Whenever you’re ready, just come to the east side of town and hop over the bridge. That’s where the clocktower is! Bye!!” Before you even get a chance to answer, she’s already off.

… stars, she must have a lot of energy today. But you can’t exactly blame her— it’s the day before the big showdown. She’s probably restless. You tried to sleep it off, but you’re nervous, too. You’re usually the one to lead the group, so having to lead them all into the House…

Don’t think about it! You’ll be fine. It’s the day before the final showdown, so you’ve got this. You’ll make sure nothing goes wrong. For them. But… stars, something feels off. Like this isn’t how it’s meant to be, or… something? You can’t pinpoint it for the life of you.

It should be fine. You’ll keep moving forward. But for now, you should go find everyone. Where were they, again? You’re sure they told you. It was… the shop, fields, and… wish tree, right? You think that was it. You’ll go in that order, then.

First off, though, you head towards the change god statue.

You should… believe something very strongly at the Change God. That’s how those work, right? Mirabelle and Isabeau taught you before. Can’t just… ask for things, because the Change belief considers it lazy. It’s the Change God, only pure belief and confidence in yourself will do, with the Change God only providing a little nudge.

If anyone is lazy here, it must be the Change God, you think. Why can’t they help out, even if just a little more? Oh well.

You… “believe strongly”, or whatever… that attacks against you will be super weak. Best offense is a good defense, after all. You win if you and your friends are the only ones left standing. You repeat under your breath, “super strong, super strong, super strong.”

… you… actually feel a little stronger???

You pinch yourself. Ow! Okay then, not that much more powerful. But it feels like you and your friends’ defense got a little better.

Alright! Wow. That’s enough for today. You thank the Change God for its blessing and quickly run away, crossing it out from the Reminder Note. Mira thought of everything, huh?

You head into the shop, afterwards. Odile is in there, looking at what the shop has to offer.

“Odile!”

“Oh, Siffrin. You look rested. Glad to see you this laid back on the day before the end of the world. …Anyway, how can I help you?”

“Clocktower, sleepover.”

“A… sleepover? Urgh… you all really are kids.”

“We can forget about our problems!”

“I suppose so. Nonetheless, I’ll be there. Poor Boniface probably needs it. Maybe we all do. But the room only has three beds, correct? I better get a whole bed to myself.”

“Mira and Bonnie will probably be sharing, if I had to guess.”

“Mirabelle and Bonnie? So who’ll sleep on the ground, You or Isabeau?”

“I think me and Isa will share?”

“Of course you will. …Anyway, I’ll be there. Y’know, since we already decided earlier we’d meet at the Clocktower and all.”

Yeah… you all already planned to meet up at the Clocktower, so was there a need for you to let everyone know? You could’ve just met everyone there… oh well. Not like you have anything better to do. And talking with them is nice, anyways.

“Anything else?”

“We’re fighting The King tomorrow, y’know.”

“We are. I hope you’re prepared. The King, and the Shadows following that path of destruction… They possess skills capable of slowing us down, or even freezing us in time entirely, not to mention their strange elemental abilities. So, as always, we’re counting on you and your speed to keep us out of trouble. Understand?”

Aw… “So… you want me in front again, then?”

“Leading everyone, if possible. You have already proven good at preventing traps and keeping all of us alive, so I don’t see why that has to change. And as always, you can count on me to provide everyone with intel on any enemies we encounter. Everyone except Boniface will be on battle duty… But I may as well ask Boniface to do something as well, as they are coming with us. It might be good for everyone to give the kid something to do… boring tactics talk, I know. I’ll shut up and buy items for our journey to the top of the house.”

Oh? Have you found it?!?

“Is your field of research TACTICS??”

“Oh gems. Are you still trying to figure out what I’m researching? NO, my field of research ISN’T tactics. Isabeau actually proposed that one last week, late one.”

“Aw…”

“Give it up already. None of you will ever figure out what I’m studying. It will stay a secret forever.”

Any other questions? Oh, right, last one. Hopefully.

“What will you do after?”

“After tomorrow, if we survive? I wish I had your confidence. …Maybe I’ll just go home to Ka Bue. I haven’t seen my country in many years… Before I met Mirabelle and Isabeau, my main goal was to travel to Vaugarde and see its many different places, sights, and cultures. I’ve already accomplished this by traveling with Mirabelle, so…”

“Was it all for your research?”

“…Yes.”

“Your research into… um… Travel-ology?”

“… ‘Travel-ology’ isn’t a field of research, Siffrin.”

“But! But it is the field of research you spent your whole life trying to create…”

“Please stop inventing a backstory for me. …But what about you? What will you do afterwards? If we beat the King, that is. Will you go back to your own country, maybe?”

What will you do? Well… you can’t go back to your own country. You don’t really even remember it. Maybe your memory’s just that bad. Or maybe nothing was worth remembering.

“I’ll come up with my own field of research.”

“Urgh. Of course.”

One last question. Just in case.

“Any strategies for tomorrow?”

“Strategies? Well, you know I have strategies and tactics for every situation, Siffrin. Could you be a little more specific?”

“Um… with Personas, and all that? I guess?”

“Personas… yes. Right. Well, mine and Isabeau’s are still rather limited in their potential. At least compared to Mirabelle’s. Her power is still unlike anything I’ve ever seen before— the ability to wield multiple personas at once, and even to bargain with Shadows to make them her own. In all honesty, I think with her by our side, things will go just fine.”

That’s right. Mirabelle… She was blessed by the Change God with the power of the “wildcard”. You’re not quite sure what it is entirely, but you do know that she can wield multiple Personas at once. It makes her very versatile— and she’s really the one that should be leading the group. You don’t even have a Persona of your own. You don’t think you do, at least. You’ve tried to summon it before, but you never could. You suppose you never got that “trigger” that everyone needs to awaken to a Persona. Whether that be a big event, a realization, a change… you don’t know, but you apparently haven’t gotten it yet. You’re jealous of everyone else, really— they’ve all got their Personas. Besides Bonnie, of course, but they’re just a kid. Kids don’t usually have Personas, you think.

You… you think you used to have a Persona, maybe. Something that lingers in the back of your mind tells you that. Or maybe it’s just wishful thinking. But even then, you don’t know what could’ve caused you to lose it. That’s not something that normally happens, after all, right? People don’t just lose that power out of nowhere.

You always have had a bad memory, though. Maybe you just forgot the event that caused you to awaken to it, and so you forgot that you could summon it, or that you even had one to begin with. It’s unfortunate, but… you can’t do anything about it now. You just have to be as useful to them as you can as you are right now. Even without all those fancy skills.

“… Siffrin? Are you okay?”

You snap back to reality. Huh? Was she talking that whole time?

“You didn’t hear a word I said, did you…?” She sighs.

“Oh well. Just know that I have a plan. Things will go just fine, I hope.”

You think that’s all you had to ask. You wave goodbye to Odile.

Alright! That’s one down. You cross Odile off the reminder note. Only two left, then the Clocktower!

That took longer than you thought it would, though. Maybe you should try and speed these next two up. But… you don’t want to be rude. Especially not to Bonnie or Isa! You like them!!

Oh well. It’ll be nighttime by the time you head to the Clocktower, either way. So you’ve got time, you think.

With that, you exit the shop. Onto the fields next!

CARD II — END

All Caught Up!

[knight-of-the-graces]

I’m reading through The Odyssey properly for the first time since we read it in school, and I have… some thoughts. A lot of thoughts, actually. Here they are.

Firstly, Athena. Just… Athena. What are you up to.

The fact that she —disguised as Mentes but obviously knowing who Telemachus is— immediately comments on how tall Telemachus is after questioning if he’s really Odysseus’ son…

Odysseus really is a short man, isn’t he. Even his patron goddess is making fun of him for it. Disguised, but still. Do you think Mentes ever has to pay for the comments Athena makes while pretending to be him?

(Plus Telemachus immediately gets philosophical in his own defense, which… excellent. Excellent. Good job.)

Also Athena’s solution to all of Telemachus’ problems is literally just “Hey, why don’t you take a ship and go find your dad? He’ll murder all these guys for you, trust me, I know the guy. From, uh, childhood.” And Telemachus is like “Hm… okay, I’ll think about it.” Definitely living up to ‘goddess of war’, aren’t you?

And when she leaves, she just… turns into a bird and off she goes. Athena. What. You are in a crowded hall full of people. How is Telemachus the only one who noticed this. Divine magic and the power of alcohol, probably, but… what.

(Also why is everyone except the goddess being referred to as ‘godlike’? Like, we’ve got Nestor, then Telemachus, now Penelope. Seriously, how many of them were ‘godlike’, except for the goddess herself?)

Also Telemachus is definitely being a bit of a broody teenager. Like, come on, if a song is making your mom sad you just change the song. I get that you’re the man of the house, but still. If my brother said something like that to my mom she might actually kill him. And she’s not the formerly Spartan queen of Ithaca.

(And now the bard is godlike too. What is up with you guys, describing people as godlike. Are you trying to offend the actual Greek gods, ’cause we all know how that’ll end for you. You were literally talking about how offending the gods goes like, ten minutes ago. Why are you all like this.)

Then when he’s basically saying ‘get out of my house’ Antinous tells him “Zeus will never give you the throne” and Telemachus’ response is basically “Yes he will”. Boy… I mean kinda, but wow.

Also, Eurymachus, you do not get to call someone ‘friend’ when you’re trying to marry his mom, living in his house against his will, and basically stealing his stuff. Excuse me. What. And if you were paying enough attention to notice ‘Mentes’ how didn’t you notice the whole ‘turns into a bird and flies off’ thing?

The sheer audacity of literally everyone I’ve met so far is definitely something. I’m remembering why this book killed me to read in school now, with the sheer Audacity and Chaos so far.

And Telemachus is immediately called ‘Odysseus’ well-beloved son’ in book two— all I can think of is him introducing himself to people as ‘father of dear Telemachus’ in The Iliad—

(Also don’t try to read The Odyssey through online libraries; the formatting is so messed up it’s actually painful. Alas, I will suffer.)

[millenialfanfictionaddiction]

Being EJP Raijin’s Manager

Suna’s Crush

Rintaro Suna (featuring EJP) x GN! manager

Warnings: fluff!

AN: this is a request from @kitakashi! Also let’s talk about how freaking 😮‍💨🥵 timeskip Suna is ok 🤚🏻

Ok you are definitely one of the lucky ones YN

I mean, EJP Raijin?!?

Have you SEEN their lineup…

Washio from Fukurodani, Komori from Itachiyama and Suna from Inarizaki???

Like are we being fr right now because 😮‍💨

Anyways, you someone how managed to score this literal dream job

And boy are we all jealous!

I want to say EJP is probably a lot calmer than MSBY and even the Adlers

They give stoic yet sensible vibes

And please, they are absolutely a stellar team!

Middle blocking is dominated by Washio and Suna and Komori handles receives

Defense specialists 👏🏻

Nekoma who? We don’t know them 💅

Anyways your job as manager is exciting and fun

The guys all respect you, helping you out as much as they can

Please Komori and Washio drink respect juice every morning

Washio helps you set up the net while Komori helps you collect volleyballs at the end of practice

But there’s one player in particular who is really attached to you 👀

Yep that’s right! Our precious love Suna Rin

Now Suna doesn’t attach himself to just anyone, oh no

He remains mostly aloof, unbothered by most people and things

But there’s just something about their dear manager that draws him in

Maybe it’s the fact that you let him nap on you 🧐

Or maybe it’s because you make the best bento boxes?

Nah it’s definitely because you add the perfect ratio of protein powder to the teams shakes

Or maybe 👀 just maybe it’s because the man is utterly infatuated with you

Oh that’s definitely it 😏

Suna always volunteers to walk you to the train station and even meets you every morning for coffee

This is strange to the team because before you started, Suna was always the last one to arrive for practice

Heck Komori often had the job of getting Suna TO practice

But not anymore, oh no our precious YN has obliterated any need for that 💅

I bet your thinking “there’s no way EJP hasn’t noticed this change” and you would be correct

Because they most definitely did

But unlike our other feral div. 1 teams, EJP isn’t as dramatic

Or at least, that’s what they’d like you to think 👀

They simply by their time, waiting for the right moment to pounce

Now that doesn’t mean they don’t bait Suna

For instance, you often come up in locker room discussion

“You know, YN is really the best manager. They just do such a great job at everything,” Washio gushes

Suna 👉🏻😐

“And they are super hot! Like wow level hot! Like ‘dang this person actually exists outside of a book’ hot!” Komori says

Suna 👉🏻😐😑

“Honestly I’m surprised Yn is single, it’s not like they don’t get fair share of looks. Sometimes I think they get more attention than we do after the game!” Washio adds

Suna 👉🏻😑😠

“For real! Plus have you seen the number of times they’ve gotten asked out? YN showed me their dms and like it’s insane!” Komori says

Suddenly, a locker slams shut as Suna stomps out from the locker room

Komori and Washio 👉🏻😐😏 got ‘em

Suna knows your popular and it drives him insane!

He’s been wanting to ask you out for a while but he doesn’t want to ruin your friendship or professional relationship

Because you see, Suna actually thinks about things outside of his own feelings

Unlike SOME people

*cough* ATSUMUBOKUTOHINATA *cough*

But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get jealous

It honestly annoys Komori and Washio that he hasn’t asked you out

Because you see, it’s also obvious to them that YOU like Suna as well

They see how you stare at him and how you smile when he’s around

How you desire to be close to him 🥰

Everyday that passes, they get more and more annoyed that neither of you will make a move

But you see, that’s all about to change

And not because Komori or Washio snaps

Oh no, because the universe has their backs and is sick of this mutual pinning

🙌🏻 picture this 🙌🏻

It’s finally game day and EJP is facing our favs MSBY

😏 you know where I’m going…

And because MSBY isn’t allowed to have a manager yet because they are too feral and might bite, they must simply be satisfied with looking at You

But oh no, that’s not good enough for them

Because our little jackals get so jealous of pretty managers

Especially ones as pretty as you 🥺

So when Atsumu is staring at you a little longer than he should and Suna notices, glaring at his former teammate

Komori and Washio also notice 👀

And ever the opportunist they pounce!

“Hey Yn why don’t you see if the Jackals need help? I mean we’ve got it over here,” Komori suggests

“That’s a great idea Motoya!” You : D

Suna 👉🏻 yeah great idea MOTOYA 😡

You skip over to MSBY as Atsumu continues to stare at you

You smile and laugh with the team as Suna stands there, hands clenched and fuming

“Suna you good man? You look tense?” Washio questions 😏

“I’m fine!” Suna growls out as he turns and stomps away

When the game starts, Suna is on FIRE 🔥

Literally, the wall of Suna

MSBY is struggling hard to score today because Suna is just that on point

When Atsumu attempts a setter dump, Suna shovels it right back in his face scoring a point for EJP

Komori and Washio are standing there like 😌😌

Please they are so satisfied right now

After the game which was dominated by EJP, Atsumu decides he’s going to make the most of this opportunity and ask you out

“Hey YN, I was wondering if you’d like to go out tonight. I could use some consoling,” he says, a sad look on his face

Suddenly a looming presence enters engulfs you

You stiffen, feeling someone behind you as you turn to see Suna literally FUMING 😡

Quick Yn deal with this!

Komori and Washio 👉🏻👀🍿

MSBY 👉🏻 🧍‍♂️👁️👄👁️

“Umm I’m sorry Atsumu but I actually like someone already,” you say as Suna continues to loom

“Oh, yeah no problem-” Atsumu responds, slowly backing away

He has some self-preservation skills ok

You turn to Suna as he continues to glare at Atsumu

Suddenly, he feels lips press to his cheek as he immediately melts

Suna 👉🏻😡😐😳☺️

“YN I like you alot! Would you please go out with me?” He asks as you nodd

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask! Of course I will!” You gush as you hug him, sweat and all

Don’t worry Yn, Komori is totally filming this for you and Suna to watch later 🥰

[aphidclan-clangen]

you don't have to post this, but I thought it would be funny!!!

Nimblekit: I just scream a lot... I just, scream... a lot

-

Goldshine: With all due respect, which is none,

-

Sparkspeckle: You know how someone can say “I respectfully disagree”? What about “I disrespectfully agree” for when you hate someone but they are unfortunately correct.

-

Shadebreak: I am always up for potential rule breaking.

-

Goldshine: Don’t be afraid to make a fool of yourself, I do it regularly.

-

Nimblekit: 80% of people are actually ugly because of their face, you know.

-

Pearlstar: Trans people? In my clan? It’s more likely than you think.

-

Blisswhistle: For the last time, you can’t die of adhd.

-

Sparkspeckle: You can do whatever you want forever :D

Stormwhisper: I love you, but that is not helpful.

-

Stormwhisper, too nervous to ask for emotional support: Man, it smells like wrongdog in here.

-

Gravel: Aren’t you like 5’2?

Firebeetle: I self identify as tall.

-

Pearlstar: Every day my joints are shocked and disgusted that I would use them for their intended purpose.

-

Sparkspeckle: You can never lose an argument if you say “shut up nerd” at the end.

Icesheep: Yes you can.

Sparkspeckle: Shut up nerd.

-

Goldshine: In my defense, your honor, I simply do not care enough.

-

Nimblekit: Your honor, in my defense, who cares like omfgggggggg who cares????????? Like come onnn.

-

Skykit: Are you a girl or a boy?

Shadebreak: Uhh, well some people aren’t girls or boys!

Skykit: Wow, just like snails...

Shadebreak: ???

-

Straight Man: Hey

Titania: That’s enough.

-

Lilacpaw: I respect perfume commercials being like, we can’t show you a smell, mind if we just go insane for 30 seconds?

-

Shadekit: Hey we are all really small, do you wanna sleep in a pile.

Icekit, Stormkit and Sparkkit: Yes.

-

Blisswhistle: “Fuck it, we ball” (Malnourished, heavy eye bags, dehydrated, on the verge of insanity.)

-

Goldshine: Evil infodumping where you just tell lies.

Sparkspeckle: Tiktok

Icesheep: 5-minute crafts

Shadebreak: Resume

Stormwhisper: Men

-

Nimblekit: I fucking hate the hand that feeds me, I think i’ll do something fucked up to it.

-

Nimblekit: Sick injury bro, would be a shame if i added insult to it.

-

Pearlstar: I laugh at my own jokes because I am my target audience. Y’all just happen to be there fr.

-

Gravel: I wish they sold offbrand cars, get me a damn honder.

Firebeetle: Pulling up in the revolver.

-

Shadebreak: When two buses pass each other and the bus drivers don’t wave at each other, like omg... did you guys break up...

-

Blisswhistle: I can still crack a joke mid-breakdown, that’s why everyone is lucky to have me in their lives.

-

Gravel: They don’t kill the presidents like they used to.

-

Berrykit: The LMAO+ community.

Nimblekit: It’s LMFAO+ this is party rock erasure.

-

Sparkspeckle: It’s harder than you think to communicate with someone who isn’t familiar with the world of spongebob.

-

Goldshine: Pipe down your honor, you weren’t even there.

-

Goldshine: JFK?? Like from umbrella academy?? Haha... you know he’s not... real, right?

Stormwhisper: Wait, I though JFK was from clone high??

Sparkspeckle: JFK, as in Jesus Fucking Khrist, from the bible?

Icesheep: Isn’t JFK that fried chicken fast food chain.

Shadebreak: Guys cmon, it’s Jennedy Fennedy Kennedy, you gotta know this.

-

Goldshine: Mfs be named “James” and it only be one dude.

-

Nimblekit: Does violence have to be the last resort, can’t it be like third.

-

Lilacpaw: Free my man, he did all of it but I don’t care.

-

Pearlstar: Let me get this straight. Grabs the nearest heterosexual. Now, where were we. (He is holding nobody)

-

Blisswhistle: I’m so done with self care, it’s time for others harm.

-

Shadebreak: Fun fact. Shut the fuck-

-

Sparkspeckle: Nuh uh

Icesheep: FYM “NUH UH”???

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

-⚡ anon

Genuinely made me laugh, I love these