#also hi really late start to this challenge

[hedwig221b]

I didn’t know if you could recommend something in a similar vein to Hung the Moon by BurnItAllClean on ao3?

I learned about that fic from your blog so I didn’t know if you could recommend something similar?

Thank you, and appreciate all your writing and recommendations you’ve given us!

Hi! Idk what you really want, bc this fic has a lot of tropes, so?.. I think you might enjoy xcaellachx fics:

Accept My Claim (As I Hold My Breath) by xcaellachx

Shifters outnumber humans and the world has accepted the ancient shifter ritual of Claiming. This includes courting, the verbal claim, the mating bite, and the public claiming. You guessed it, public sex. Alpha Derek Hale has known Stiles Stilinski was his mate since the human was 15. Being Derek, he has issues, and doesn't make the move to claim him until it is almost too late. Theo Raeken is intent on Stiles becoming his mate and he doesn't intend to wait. Stiles is feeling lonely since Scott claimed Allison as his mate and is wondering if he'll be alone forever. What is he to think when the psycho Theo starts sniffing around him and then suddenly the smoking hot alpha of Beacon Hills is paying attention to him too?

His Abandoned Omega by xcaellachx

Stiles Stilinski is an omega who was promised to an unknown alpha in a much-anticipated and influential arranged mating. When his alpha never showed, his family and the town took it out on Stiles in the form of physical and mental abuse. He has become a shadow of himself, lonely and desperate for affection. Derek Hale refused to let himself be trapped in an arranged mating so after college he never returned home. Now he must return to Beacon Hills because his father is ill, though he has a feeling it is nothing more than a trap. One chance meeting changes both of their lives and Derek is determined to end his arranged mating so he can claim the omega of his dreams with the gorgeous whiskey eyes. Stiles is filled with hope for the first time in years, but he has sworn to save himself for his arranged alpha. Will Derek be able to change his mind or will the town beat Stiles down before he can?

and DarkAthena (seraphim_grace):

The White Hart of Winter by DarkAthena (seraphim_grace) 

Sent to marry the Hale Beast Stiles finds himself alone in a castle left to ruin and watched over by Kate Argent, who he thinks is sleeping with his new husband and seems determined to destroy him.

also Dexterous_Sinistrous has similar vibes I would say:

My Wolf by Dexterous_Sinistrous

“If he wants to mate Stiles, why not let him?” Jackson asked, ready to part with Stiles if need be. “Because if I did that, I’d be demoting Lydia,” Alpha Stilinski replied. “We don’t even know how good of a Beta he is,” Lydia countered, bristling some that her status was being challenged. “That’s because he’s not a Beta,” Alpha Stilinski stated. “He’s an Alpha.”

Love's Violent Delights by Dexterous_Sinistrous

Derek caught the way the man’s eyes looked over Stiles before lingering on his ass. He waited for the clerk to place the key on the counter before he reacted. Stiles startled at the loud noise, turning away from the pamphlets in the display box to see Derek pinning the clerk’s head against the counter. He drew in an even breath, looking between the struggling man and Derek. Derek briefly looked at Stiles, hesitating before he saw the gleam of excitement in Stiles’ eyes and the hint of lust in his scent. “Ever look at him, or any other Omega, like that again, and I’ll slice your eyes out with my claws.” He shoved the man back, not caring of the commotion that was made as he snatched up the key from the counter.

and, of course, linking this absolute treasure, my beloved

Hung The Moon by BurnItAllClean (nrnyx)

Slowly Stiles got control of himself again. His heart calmed. His breathing evened out. The anger was gone. In its place, a bone-deep weariness settled. He couldn’t do this. He wouldn’t survive this.

[masterlist link]

[imsobadatnicknames2]

hi so ive been interested in designing my own ttrpg lately, and a big part of that is simply becoming familiar with extant ttrpgs and their genres. so i come to you to ask for good introductions (not necessarily to play, but to read) to the dungeon crawling genre. like, ones which sort of make clear what exactly dungeon crawling is, and what the appeal of it is.

Ok well! This is an interesting ask!

Before I make any recommendation, I'll just say that in my personal opinion, a good dungeon-crawler includes all or most of the following elements:

Emphasis on resource management, the PCs' resources should be always dwindling in a way that makes the choice to retreat vs. push forward a meaningful one

Emphasis on attention to detail and environment interaction, as well as resourceful and creative usage of the tools at the PCs' disposal to overcome challenges with no predefined solution.

Mechanics that disincentive combat as the default outcome of every encounter (such as high lethality, no guarantee of "balanced" encounters, significant time and/or resource investment required to recover from damage taken during a fight, etc.) The decision to engage in combat should not be the default assumption whenever a creature is encountered, it should be one that always carries significant risks and potential consequences, ideally incentivizing players to find creative or resourceful ways to bypass combat situations through stealth, deception, parlay, fleeing, etc., and only engage in it when they think exposing themselves to those consequences is justified or the only option (or when they've found an ingenious way to tip the scales in their favor).

A reward structure that encourages players to explore and interact with the environment, such as the classic Gold For XP rule that encourages players to search every nook and cranny for any bit of hidden treasure.

Systems that encourage an open-ended structure with no pre-defined GM-authored narrative.

That's just my opinion though. I think that a bit essential reading for your purposes would be any of the D&D editions from when the main focus of the game was still dungeon-crawling rather than grand epic high fantasy adventures. I recommend reading the Basic booklet from the 1981 Basic/Expert set, which is probably the D&D edition that has had the most explicit influence over the modern dungeon-crawling revival (B/X retroclones are basically their own entire subgenre of the OSR). Old-school D&D is just a good starting point to understand a lot of the basic elements and base assumptions that later dungeon-crawlers are, in some way or another, in conversation with. But like. D&D's legacy looms so large here that this recommendation was probably already a given.

While it isn't a game, but rather a primer formatted as a collection of Player and GM principles, I would also say that the Principia Apocrypha is also pretty much required reading, as it's IMO the clearest distillation of the play culture that modern OSR and OSR-adjacent dungeon-crawlers are try to incentivize.

I think it's also an example of something I find interesting about the OSR and its associated play culture: as @thydungeongal (I think it was her, at least) put it once, as much as the OSR community claims to be getting back to the roots of the hobby, much of its play culture is actually an exercise in historical revisionism. The play culture espoused by the OSR community isn't really a faithful recreation of the play culture that actually existed around dungeon games back in the day, but more like. an attempt to reverse-engineer a play culture that's actually compatible with the mechanics and assumptions of old-school dungeon games. And I think the Principia Apocrypha is a wonderful and clear distillation of this reverse-engineered play culture.

As for my actual recommendations now:

Mausritter by Isaac Williams, I know I'm always recommending Mausritter every time I get the chance but like. I don't only recommend it because it's my favorite game, but because it's extremely approachable regardless of your previous level of familiarity with tabletop rpgs (probably one of the best possible introductory games to the hobby) AND it does a lot of stuff that is relevant here.

First of all, despite the fact that it doesn't explicitly refer to its adventure locations as "dungeons" or use the term "dungeon-crawling" or related, it *is* very much a dungeon game, and explicitly spells out the gameplay loop and setting assumptions of dungeon games: the world is dangerous, settlements are small, rare, and usually their stability is threatened in some way, and you play as one of the few people who are willing to brave the dangerous outside world to find riches to bring back to the safety of a settlement (it's trivially easy to point out the ways in which this setup has the potential for a lot of #unsavory ideological implications, but it *is* the standar dungeon game setup and it *does* make for a compelling gameplay loop). It also explicitly spells out a lot of the principles that support my ideas for what makes a good dungeon crawler. For example, I like how it explicitly encourages players to be resourceful by straight-up telling them that relying on dice-rolls is dangerous, that dice rolls can be avoided with preparation and resourcefulness, as actions that you attempt with a good plan or the right tools automatically succeed without a roll, and thus the most optimal way to play is one where you minimize or completely eliminate the necessity to roll dice through clever planning and use of the tools at your disposal.

I also really like how it leans into the resource management aspect by tying so many of its mechanics to inventory management. Like. Its cars-based physical inventory is cute and distinctive and intuitive:

But it also clearly has to exist because shuffling items around in your inventory is such a load-bearing mechanic for many of its systems. Like, inventory is extremely limited (you have two paw slots, two body slots, and six slots in your backpack, that's all the items you can carry, and being completely encumbered gives you disadvantage on every roll), which of course limits the tools and resources you can bring into a dungeon, but also:

The only source of XP in the game is treasure: the XP you get is equal to the value in pips (the mouse kingdoms' standard currency) of any treasure that you bring back from a dungeon to a settlement. This means you need to balance making sure you bring any gear you'll need with making sure you leave yourself enough free inventory space to be able to carry any treasure you find.

Negative conditions take up an inventory slot each, which makes them especially dangerous and hard to ignore, as getting hit with a negative condition might mean having to leave some of your items or treasure behind.

Spells are physical items in your inventory, and you need to be holding them in your paw in order to cast them. This means that not only the space you dedicate to spells in your inventory is an important choice, but also WHERE you put them in your inventory (items in your body slots are assumed to be strapped to your upper body and may be freely swapped to your hands at any point, but items in your pack slots require an action to retrieve).

A common argument against the kind of resource management centered in this type of dungeon-crawling gameplay is that inventory management is boring and tedious, but Mausritter shows how much well-exevuted inventory management adds to this gameplay style. It not only makes keeping track of inventory fun and effortless, but also explicitly turns it into an extremely engaging source of tension and challenge by tying it to as many of its systems as possible.

There's a lot else I could say about Mausritter (like how much I like its damage system, which is very effective at having longer-term consequences for getting hurt in co.bat beyond HP loss without being too very punishing, how much I like the faction system, how good its GM toolkit is, etc.) but let's move on.

Dungeon Crawl Classics by Goodman Games is a game I kinda slept on for a long while, because as far as I knew it was mostly an AD&D clone with an admittedly cool artste that evokes the more pulpy illustrations of 80's D&D with a bit of a grimier feel to it. But after checking it out, it's a very unique game that leans very hard on the strange, chaotic, pulpy gonzo side of dungeon-crawling. The most distinctive feature of DCC is its heavy use of an absurd amount of random tables. While this can be a bit cumbersome to be quite honest, the randomness inherent to the system and the sheer number of strange and absurd table results do a phenomenal job of Putting The PCs in A Situation™ in a way that requires them to be constantly on their toes. It's just a lot of (extremely chaotic, extremely lethal) fun, as the players can never know what to expect and they can easily be thrown into disarray at a moment's notice and have to think on their feet. Definitely not for everyone but it's very interesting nonetheless.

DCC is also responsible for creating the concept of the level 0 funnel adventure (or at the very least popularizing, not sure if any other game did it before but DCC definitely was the game that brought attention to it): the game starts with a big group of level 0 characters, with the understanding that their first adventure will serve as a meatgrinder in which most of them will inevitably die (which is why each player starts off controlling up to 4 characters). Only the ones that survive their first adventure get to advance to level 1 and pick a character class to become full-fledged adventurers. Starting off controlling several characters with the assumption that most of them will not survive long into their first adventure is an extremely heavy-handed but very effective way of establishing the tone of high lethality I mentioned before, which is an essential tool for forcing players to find ways to deal with encounters other than immediately charging into combat.

Knave 2e by Ben Milton is a pretty solid D&D-adjacent dungeon crawler with enough cool features to mechanically stand apart as its own thing (such as the fact that the system is designed to effortlessly convert any GM-facing roll into a player-facing roll if desired, and some relatively unique character generation procedures) while still preserving compatibility with most D&D adventures, which is really cool. It has very clear and streamlined procedures for dungeon and wilderness exploration, it makes extensive use of tons of random tables for nearly everything you might need to generate on the fly (although not to the same degree as DCC, nor anywhere near as chaotic), it's a very cool implementation of a classless system where PCs are mostly defined by their inventory, and a lot of other good stuff. However, none of these are the reason I bring it up. The reasons I recommend it for your purposes here are:

1) Its magic system is really emblematic of what I said about emphasizing resourcefulness and creative use of your resources. Knave has a pretty sizable spell list (as well as tables for randomly generating even more spells), but if you start with a spell, you have no control over what spell it is, and. more importantly: Knave 2e doesn't have any spells explicitly meant for combat. There aren't any spells in the game that have the effect of directly causing damage to a creature. This, along with the fact that the spell(s) you start with are random, means that players are incentivized to apply their spells creatively, both in and out of combat. Because the thing is: magic *does* have the potential to be used for combat, but doing so requires a great deal of creative lateral thinking on how to apply it.

And, most importantly, 2) Knave is a game that's very upfront and explicit about what its best practices and design goals are. Not only does it have clearly spelled out GM and Player principles that are very clear about its intended playstyle and what is expected of GMs and players in order to have the intended experience, but the last section of the book also features designer's commentary about pretty much every mechanic and feature of the game, explaining what its purpose is, why it works the way it does, and what its influences and inspirations are, which I think is particularly useful for your case.

Shadowdark by Kelsey Dionne is one that I don't have as much to say about. It's a game built on the skeleton of 5e but massively stripped down and trying to replicate the spirit and gameplay style of old-school dungeon-crawlers. For the most part it's a solid but pretty standard "old-school style game but with modern quality-of-life improvements", but what I find remarkable about it is how it emphasizes an aspect of dungeon-crawling that's often overlook or handwaved: light and dark. Not only can characters not see in the dark, but also being in the dark gives disadvantage on every roll, which makes it appropriately dangerous and oppressive. But the most unique thing about it is the fact that light sources run on a real-time one-hour timer, and the book encourages the GM to constantly threaten the party's light source with environmental effects and whatnot, which makes darkness a much more pressing danger, It also incorporates an optional DCC-style funnel adventure mode, as well as a ton of optional game modes which modify certain rules (such as shorter light source timers and a ton of other stuff), which is pretty neat.

This one's probably the most different out of the bunch I'm going to mention, but... Dungeon Bitches by @cavegirlpoems is a very interesting example of taking the core conceits of the premise of a dungeon-crawler and using them to produce a queer narrative about trauma, centering queer women (especially trans women). In terms of mechanics it's very different from all the other ones i've mentioned because it's a Powered By the Apocalypse game, but it still goes out of its way to incorporate a lot of the principles of OSR play, just on a different mechanical chassis. In terms of its queer themes, Dungeon Bitches is a game that asks the question "what kind of person would actually end up having to do this for a living?" and concludes that the kind of people who would end up gravitating to dungeon-crawling as a career would be the most marginalized, the people who have no place for them in polite society. As explained on the original post from 2020 on cavegirl's blogspot:

Here's the pitch. A faux-medieval gritty fantasy setting with all your standard crap hetero-patriarchal assumptions. Political marriages, dowries, etc etc. Not the best society to be a queer girl in. Luckily, if the thought of getting married off and having to pretend like you're happy with that is too much for you, there are two options.

-You can run away and join a nunnery. This is slightly more socially acceptable, much less likely to get you killed, but will also result in living a life defined by limitations and restrictions.

-You can run away, join a band of similar (heavily armed) bitches, and make a living as mercenaries, tomb-robbers and adventurers. This is far less socially acceptable, and far more dangerous, but you might get rich, fall in love, and be able to wreak terrible vengeance on the society that wronged you.

So... yeah. It's an excellent game imo and one that leverages and recontextualizes the core assumptions of the genre for a very different purpose in a really cool way.

Lastly, for a game that boils dungeon crawling almost completely down to its bare essentials, check out bastards. by Micah Anderson. It has a lot of the elements of a lot of the games I mentioned above, but distilled down to their bare essence both in terms of mechanics and in terms of how they're described, at the cost of presuming a high level of prior familiarity with the ttrpgs and the assumptions of the dungeon-crawler genre. I just like how stylish it is and how flavorful it manages to be with so little.

Some other games that I think you should check out but I can't really write about here, either because the cool stuff they do is similar to games I already mentioned but executed in a different way, because I don't have that much interesting commentary about them, or because I haven't read them myself and my awareness of their cool features is all secondhand so I can't rlly vouch for it:

DURF by Emiel Boven

.dungeon by Snow

Songbirds 3e by Snow

The Black Hack by David Black

Torchbearer by Thor Olavsurd and Luke Crane

Troika by the Melsonian Arts Council

Tunnel Goons by Higland Paranormal Society

Cairn by Yochai Gal

a dungeon game by Chris Bisette

[mitigatedchaos]

A: "It's too late. I have already depicted myself as the fun, intellectual, sophisticated crow, and you as the dumb, unsophisticated, socially conservative crow that hangs onto relationship jealousy. Polyamory is the natural order of being. All human beings are bonobos. To be logically consistent, you have to let me fuck your wife."

B: "Oh, really? Have you heard of paternal uncertainty?"

I don't think anyone is actually learning anything in the above exchange.

The problem comes from relative formalization. Mr. A is probably citing some larger body of theory that's most likely garbage produced by motivated reasoning, but in the moment, he appears to have the academic higher ground.

Knowing that it's false is more intuitive. Debunking it means conducting hours or possibly days of research to provide a formal response.

These days, we might say, "That doesn't sound like it's going to survive the replication crisis," if centrist, essentially pushing Mr. A to show that it's a cross-partisan consensus, or a right-winger might dismiss almost the entire field of anthropology since 1970 based on new studies of historical migration patterns and then start challenging Mr. A on his other beliefs.

Though, bringing up the asymmetry raises an alternative response, which is, "Tell you what, that sounds like a contentious position. Maybe I'll do some research, but I've got a lot on my plate, so it will probably be a few years before I get to it, maybe more."

The above move kicks it back out of the immediate timeframe. It also says that Mr. B is not going to prioritize information presented in the adversarial stance.

Someone who is older and more experienced might cite personal experience, e.g., "I saw a [social relation]'s polyamorous relationship blow up, and I don't want to do that to my marriage." It might be softened with, "It might work for some people, but it isn't for me. [My wife] and I are happy together. Monogamy is what works for us."

A normie might just blow it off and then not comply, or might say, "Keep your hands off my wife." (Possibly followed with, "Can't you see you're making her uncomfortable?")

Another option might be, "Listen, Mr. A, when you're in my house, I need you to respect my boundaries, and I need you to respect my wife's boundaries."

Someone with less tact and/or less personal experience might answer, "Haven't you heard of paternal uncertainty, dumbass?" (i.e. "It's normal and healthy for a male to have relationship jealousy.")

In general, this is somewhat similar to the problem of needing an ideological permission slip to not like some genre of music.

This is just sort of explaining... where the discursive front is, and how different backgrounds and capabilities influence the choices people make.

Personally, I don't think you can really learn human nature from the contemporary social sciences without discernment and going through the effort to check studies manually (although psychology should be OK in the field of mental illness, and economics is good until you hit the limits of its underlying basis).

In the current low-trustworthiness environment, it's better to practice observation with humility, or run a comparison with a text that's genuinely old and/or foreign.

To pick an example text, The Analects of Confucius is (1) over 2,000 years old, and (2) Eastern, not Western. Similarities between issues that Confucius describes in governing, and modern problems of government, are probably more human nature rather than just contemporary ideology.

To pick an example more contemporary observation, as I recall, Lee Kuan Yew reported that people would steal the trees planted in the medians back when his team were building up Singapore. Obviously, this wouldn't happen now. (Of course, if you tried to steal one now, you would be punished!) This suggests the range in behavior that can be altered by social norms and expectations.

Something I took care to address in Now, Melt [1] is that the nature of an organism can have both more fixed and more fluid elements. For human beings, something like greed or cowardice will pretty much always reoccur, while particular cultural practices might be limited to one time and place.

Anyhow, having described the discursive front above, we can then think about how to shift it.

I would say that the way to alter the composition is to bring forth the better arguments (and better evidence) so that they are ready to hand, and cultivate improved social skills.

This would then make it easier to split off the people that want to argue that, "Evolutionary psychology means that we must legally require all women to wear sundresses; it's science," from the larger group.

Obviously, people like Mr. A will work to socially disconnect arguments about what he's doing, that is, render them socially inadmissible as evidence, but, in general, the maintenance of knowledge is something that is active, not passive.

The contemporary right-wing position (depending on which part of the right we're talking about) is that essentially everything is subject to evolutionary dynamics. As I told Nick Land (not that it moved him very much), I think this undervalues the role of choice, and also undervalues the effects of friction across time and space.

I do think about evolutionary dynamics and their potential impact on human psychology; I just don't talk about it much. Individual human beings and circumstances vary significantly, so I think it's often better to step back and avoid overgeneralizing. [2]

In terms of how I would use evolutionary psychology, I might bring up the Gombe Chimpanzee War as evidence that organized war for territory is not unique to humans, and therefore likely not a product of contemporary ideology or social relations (at least, not entirely).

(On the other hand, the idea of "alpha wolves" is now said to have been based solely on the observation of wolves in captivity, and apparently isn't a good fit for wild wolves.)

[1] Particularly section 6.g, "The Tortoise." One way to think about this is in terms of layers (based on "bands of abstraction"), covered in section 10.a, "Layer-Based Analysis."

[2] See Section 6.e of Now, Melt, "Regarding Monster Trucks."

Well, I think that's part of the appeal—believing unflattering stories about the world makes you feel privy to the Dark Truth that everything else is Too Afraid To Admit, while also giving you plenty of material to tar your opponents with, etc. etc. But really it's uniquely shameful for the rationalists, because evopsych is at the intersection of like three axes of epistemic shaky-ground.

[theimperialnuisance]

FFXIVWrite Day 11: Surrogate

Characters: N’Noah Wiloh and Kien Eilath Word count: 729 Timeline: Set far in the future, no particular expansion in mind Warnings: None Notes: Is there any indication that something like surrogacy is a thing in this world like we have in irl with modern technology? No idea. But this was the first thing that popped into my mind and I ran with it. Plus I’ve been toying with this idea in Kien’s story eventually so glad I finally have a chance to get it out on paper. Enjoy~

The idea of being a mother to her own children was never something N’noah considered. Sure, she enjoyed being around children or taking care of Tokki or Blaise’s kids when they needed someone to watch them but, she always did so with the happiness of knowing she would return home to Sicard and not have to deal with a child yelling for no reason or pulling on her tail for fun. She wasn’t even sure if she was built to be a mother, mainly because she never had a good example to go off of–her mother being too ill to show her what it took to be a mother–if that was something that could even be taught. 

She would sometimes wonder, however, what it would be like to be a mother, or at least, go through the motions of it all without having the permanent result of parenthood–she knew she wasn’t ready for that–but maybe if she could somehow go through the process first it could help her make up her mind. But…that was something that was merely a dream and besides, she was happy enough to continue traveling the seas with just her lover by her side. 

But then–strangely enough–that dream would become a reality. 

She hadn’t known what to expect when Kien wrote to her, asking if he and G’raha could meet with her for lunch. He didn’t specify what he wanted to talk about–only that he had an important question and it was best to be asked in person. Never being one to turn down food and good company, Noah met with Kien and G’raha at the Last Stand one sunny afternoon. 

After lunch was finished, the three of them sat and chatted the afternoon away until finally, as the sun began its descent into the horizon, Kien’s expression turned nervous and he began to fidget until G’raha calmly placed his hand atop his and nodded encouragingly. Kien sucked in a breath and asked the question that brought them together.

The initial request catches Noah by surprise, her breath catching in her throat. She took a moment to gather her thoughts, the tension palpable at the table as an array of emotions flickered across her face. She must’ve made her initial shock plain because suddenly Kien’s cheeks turn a shade of pink and he’s frantically waving his hands in front of his chest, a look of embarrassment written all over his face. “You don’t have to say yes if you don’t want to do it,” he said hastily. “I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable.” 

Noah blinked at him, her eyebrows raising in confusion before a small played across her face and her eyes softened. “Kien, I’d be honored.” She replied sincerely. 

Kien, mid-babble in his apology, froze and blinked at her. “You-You would?” 

G’raha’s ears twitched forward in his surprise. “Are you certain? You’re not saying that because you feel pressured, are you?” 

Noah’s smile widened with a giggle as she reached her hands across the table to gently take Kien and G’raha’s hands in her own. “I’m not sure if I ever want children of my own at the moment but what I do know for certain is that I want to be Eorzea’s coolest aunt to a baby Eilath and if that means being your surrogate to make that happen, then I’d be honored.” 

Kien and G’raha took a moment to process Noah’s words before they looked at each other with wide smiles and laughs of relief and joy. Kien turned back to Noah with tears in his eyes, his grin infectious. “Noah–this means so much to me–to both of us,” He looked back at G’raha who was still at a loss for words but was smiling and nodding all the same. 

“And it means the world to me that you asked me, thank you,” Noah smiled back, feeling her heart flutter in excitement and anticipation. She hadn’t expected this to ever happen–the fact that her strange dream of going through the motion of motherhood without the actual child at the end–was coming true. The journey ahead was sure to be full of surprises but she was honestly happy to help her best friend start a family of his own. 

And maybe, after all was said and done, she’d learn if she wanted to be a mother to her own children someday. 

[daddy-long-legssss]

you're all tarted up and you don't look the same but it just gets worse [1] [2] [3] [4]

[scssenach]

"My late husband, Frank, he was the historian, though I fancy myself an amateur anthropologist at this point." She'd traveled enough, learned enough, excavated enough that she knew more than a woman ought to. What she hadn't read in a book, she had lived through and, given her historical knowledge, she knew that there was more to come in the not-so-distant future. "He had a fascination in religions, but was very interested in genealogy. He was consulting my uncle, an archeologist, on a research project he was conducting when I first met Frank. And the rest is history, as they say."

Her lips curled into a smile as she thought of Uncle Lamb. Claire had always thought warmly of her uncle. It hadn't been the most orthodox upbringing, but Claire was also not a normal child by any means. She had found more enlightenment and growth along her journeys with Uncle Lamb than she ever would've gotten in an all-girl's English boarding school. And she wouldn't have met Frank, either.

"I am a doctor and a surgeon, thank you very much. I didn't suffer through years of medical school to have my doctorate taken from me so easily." Although her eyes held a playful glint to them, Claire was serious. Medical school had been a challenge in many ways. The lessons could be hard and the hours were long, but it was her peers that made it tough. Being the only woman in the classroom set the scene for a tumultuous learning experience. Thankfully, she'd found a friend in Joe at the time and she'd made it out to the other side with her mind intact and her degree in hand.

"To give you the credit you deserve, you're reacting better to the knowledge than most men I know. That is to say you haven't made any misogynistic remarks or undermined my intelligence. Though, I'm sure you've thought of a few by now."

"The students I had in mind are my grandchildren, Jeremiah and Frances. Ten and thirteen, respectively. Amanda is the youngest, but she still has a few more rotations around the sun before she'd ready to start any serious schooling. Besides, I wouldn't want to give you a handful right away."

Crossing her arms over her chest, she watched him appraisingly. She was well-accustomed to men telling her it was foolish to encourage a female's intellectual curiosities, but Claire had never been one to bend to societal expectations. And Benjamin seemed clever enough not to test Claire's defiance just yet. She was sure there'd come a time when his mind would rise to the occasion, but for now she would give him the benefit of the doubt. She was a unique woman, after all.

"They're good kids, though. Very bright, and I'm certain they will flourish under proper guidance. The only thing is..." She bit at the inside of her cheek, wondering how to broach such a subject carefully. "Well, Fanny has been through quite a lot. We all have, really. So, it might take her a bit to warm up to you, but, I promise, once she does, you'll see how sharp her mind is. She has an impeccable skill for memorization."

Claire hesitated, another warning rising to the forefront of her mind. She wasn't ignorant to how strange her family was. An Englishwoman married to a Scotsman with an American daughter. Not to mention Fergus's (and Faith's) Parisian roots. If their exotic dynamic wasn't enough to rile one's curiosity, the fact that they were time travelers from another century might do the trick.

The adults of the household knew better than to talk about their experiences with the stones, but the children were a different story. Coming from a child, the fanciful tales of travelling through time and space would seem whimsical and imaginative, but for Brianna's children it was reality. And one that they weren't privy to share with the rest of the world.

All it would take is for one of the children to talk about Craigh na Dun for everything to turn sour. Youthful ignorance and imagination could only be used as an excuse for so long, especially now that the children were growing quicker than she cared to admit.

"As I said, we've all been through a lot lately, so it's likely that they may say things that sound strange and fanciful to someone who isn't familiar with the family dynamic. But, I assure you, its nothing to worry about. I've looked them over; they just have wonderful imaginations." Her smile wavered and Claire hoped he didn't see through the careful façade. She was skilled at draping vague truths over secrets, about giving just enough information to satisfy one's curiosity, without giving too much away. But sometimes it didn't work out as well as she hoped.

"As for enlightening you on any feminine mysteries, I wouldn't get your hopes up. They're related to me, after all. If anything, you'll walk away with more questions than you had previously."

Benjamin blinked at that admission, arching a skeptical brow. Though once Claire explained it was mostly due to stubbornness, he breathed a soft laugh, canting his head by way of deferment. "I suppose I can't argue with that," he allowed, "nor do I have much of a leg to stand on. At least in my case, it's not literally."

Despite his earlier sourness, Benjamin slowly became charmed by the brusque nurse's storytelling -- or at least, the bits about her home life -- and he hummed in amusement. "And if you are -- were? -- an historian, what was your area of expertise?" he asked. Noting the woman's withering expression, not to mention, the blood all over her apron, his blinked a bit more rapidly. "You are the doctor, and your husband was the historian?"

He hadn't meant to sound incredulous, but Benjamin didn't know any female doctors. She certainly seemed knowledgeable, but he couldn't imagine her performing surgeries, or tending to much beyond medicine. He'd presumed she was merely volunteering, and perhaps even learning to treat medicine, given how most women in the field were doing much the same.

All too aware that he would likely get an earful for his misstep, he winced and amended, "Apologies... Given the suitable state of my wound, I'm trying to be more...open to unique ideas."

Fortunately, Claire appeared more impish than angry. "What age range do you prefer for students? My daughter might not fit your demographic anymore, unfortunately, but I know a few younglings that could use a tutor. Two girls and a boy, to be exact."

Brightening again, Benjamin replied, "I'll teach anyone who's willing to learn, truth be told, but the age rage at the schoolhouse tends to range from five to eleven, depending. I also occasionally pay individual visits to serve as a tutor, just in case some children are too unwell or poor to attend."

Claire appeared pleased. "If you were serious about your desire to teach girls, I'm sure we could arrange something. Though I will warn you, Major, they may very well test your faith as much as your patience."

Benjamin laughed at that, his brows drawing high on his head. "In what way?" he challenged. "I don't mean to be skeptical, madam, but if I could survive all sorts of pranks and broken bones during my initial stint, I imagine I could handle a sweetly inquisitive pair of girls." He beamed and nodded. "But yes, I was very serious. I feel it would be just as much of a learning curve for myself, because I am not very well-acquainted with the fairer sex. If nothing else, perhaps these girls could shine a light on their inherent mystery."

[claitea]

a little personal project i'm slowly chipping away at, thought it would be fun to make it into a chart that i add a doodle to every time i finish a new character so i can track how i'm going with it!

by project i just mean i want an oc of each type. i'm not making a game or anything the positions listed are purely for fun HDJBFJFKE

[chahnniesroom]

night again

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: in hindsight, visiting chan's studio right before a comeback isn't one of your best ideas. what was supposed to be a pleasant surprise leaves you spiraling into self-doubt, wondering if chan even wants to be in a relationship with you at all.

word count: 6.4k

tags/warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, misunderstandings, insecurities, reader not eating due to stress

a/n: the long awaited 'he calls you clingy' fic! title is from the english translation of 또 다시 밤 (twilight)

read it on ao3 | masterlist

You love your job. It's challenging for sure and the expectations from upper management are often unforgiving, but you’re proud of how hard you've worked and everything that you've accomplished in the past few years at your company. 

As you've gained experience, you've slowly been given more and more responsibility. You've grown out of your junior role and though you're thrilled by the pay raise and prospect of being a team lead rather than being led by one, it's also daunting.

When you and your new team are assigned an important project with tight deadlines, you're determined to prove yourself. It's implied that you're going to have to have to dedicate a significant amount of time to finish it and while you're no stranger to long hours, it means that any plans you have of seeing your boyfriend, Chan, are out the window.

The timing is not terrible, Stray Kids has a comeback scheduled in about a week so you didn't think that you would be able to spend that much time with Chan anyway, but you usually try to surprise the boys at one of the music shows with a cake and some home cooked food.

Luckily, you've already been planning for this. Although nothing had been confirmed, you had expected that this project would be awarded to your company and you've already been trying to spend more time with Chan than usual in preparation for the busy season ahead for both of you.

Still, you can't help but agree with your best friend at work after she complains how little she's going to see her partner this month. Jinjoo doesn't know who your boyfriend is, but the two of you are close enough that you’ve shared that you have one and that work takes up a lot of his time. You've gushed to her about the sweet things that Chan has done for you and you've admitted that you think he's the one.

“You should bring him dinner sometime!” she exclaims when you mention you're not sure when the next time you'll be able to see Chan will be.

“Well, he’s really busy-” you start to say.

“That’s the beauty of it. I’m sure he would appreciate if you brought him food at work, especially if he’s anything like my partner and gets so caught up with work that they forget to eat sometimes,” she insists.

“That’s true.”

“Just trust me, Y/n. I wouldn’t be telling you this if I wasn’t sure that it’d work. My partner loves when I do this. It’s literally the perfect way to take some time for each other before you’re both too busy. Even if he's super busy, his work can't be bad enough that he’s not allowed to eat, right?”

You agree somewhat reluctantly. You're still unsure about whether or not Chan would appreciate you barging in unannounced, but it is a cute idea and Jinjoo's confidence is enough to convince you.

The next day after work, you head to the company and order takeout for a late dinner for you and Chan, picking it up along the way. It reminds you of earlier in your relationship before you had gotten your current position and when Stray Kids were just gaining popularity. Both of you enjoyed having more casual date nights that provided more privacy as opposed to going out to fancy places and it makes you even more excited to see his reaction.

About a year after you started dating Chan, he insisted that you get a pass to get into JYP Entertainment without having to fill out a visitor's form and have someone pick you up. It has definitely come in handy more than a few times, although you try to limit the number of visits you make. Even though you're allowed to be there, it still feels intimidating to be in the building, like someone is going to recognize that you're not an employee and accuse you of being a sasaeng.

Luckily the late hour means that you make it to Chan's studio without having to interact with anybody except the security at the door, who had waved you through without a second thought. You had double checked with Felix earlier in the day to make sure that Chan didn't have any schedules or dinner plans, so you directly knock on his door without texting or calling him beforehand. 

“Y/n?” he asks, a bit baffled when he sees you. “Did we- Did I forget that we had plans tonight?”

“No,” you say, a little nervous for some reason. It's just Chan, you tell yourself, but it doesn't make you feel any better. “I didn't think that you had dinner yet and wanted to see you.”

“Oh, I see. Come in,” Chan responds slowly, still processing your sudden appearance. “I just have something that I need to finish up-”

“It's fine! You can work,” you assure him quickly. “I don't want to interrupt you too much, I just wanted to drop by since I don't have plans and wanted to make sure that you're eating well.”

Chan’s studio isn’t messy at all, but he still gets up to clear some space on a side table for you, before returning back to where he has Cubase opened up. You pass over his food and feel relieved when he immediately digs in, but your appetite seems to have vanished, you can only get yourself to pick at your meal.

Chan is short with his responses all evening and continues to work on his laptop, even while eating. It throws you off a bit, you thought that he would be able to get to a stopping point and at least make a bit of time for you, but you did tell him that he could. Even so, you're determined to make the most of the last time that you’re going to see them for a while. You know they’ve been super busy the past few days, or more like the past few weeks, but still you had thought he would be a little bit more engaged or at the very least seem happy to see you.

Finally, after half an hour of eating with minimal conversation, you decide to broach the subject that’s been on your mind this entire time. Chan’s finished his food and you know that you won’t be able to get yourself to eat anymore, so you shuffle everything off to the side and inch closer to Chan. 

“You know that client we’ve been trying to work with for a while?” you start tentatively.

Chan hums noncommittally, continuing to type on his computer. Not quite the reaction that you're hoping for, but you forge on anyway.

“We got awarded the job! It’s a great opportunity for the company and everyone is really excited, but-”

“Y/n,” he interrupts. “I’m sorry, that’s amazing and all, but you know that it’s not a good time for me right now. I have something I really need to work on and now that you’ve finished eating, can we please not bother with the small talk?”

“Oh,” you say, a bit caught off guard. Chan has never been the type to cut you off when you're speaking. “No, yeah, I get it. Uhm. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, just-” he sighs, sounding frustrated. “Next time can you please ask me when you want to visit in advance so this doesn’t happen again? You chose the worst timing to come by. I just need some space, from all of… this,” he says, waving a hand between the two of you.

“Sorry, I know it’s a busy time, but I just wanted to see-”

At that moment, an alarm on Chan's phone goes off, interrupting you. When he turns it off and notices the time, he swears lowly, unlocking his phone and typing out a message to somebody. You’re scared to break the silence. Less than a minute later, someone knocks on the door.

“Come in,” Chan calls. When Changbin and Jisung step into the room, they eye you curiously. You keep your head down and try to prevent your hands from shaking as you stand and start to haphazardly shove away all your belongings and the garbage from your dinner into bags. 

“Noona, it's good to see you!” Jisung says brightly, although his smile dims when you make eye contact and can only manage to weakly return the smile. “Sorry for interrupting you two.”

“Hi Hannie,” you reply quietly, not wanting to make conversation, but not wanting to be rude.

“It’s okay, Y/n was just leaving,” Chan says, his obvious annoyance making things even more awkward.

You say bye to the boys quietly and apologise as you shuffle past them to the door.

The handles of the bag from your dinner are digging into your hand painfully and your purse can’t close with the way that you’ve thrown everything into it. You only take a few steps before you have to stop for a moment to save a container from falling and decide to put down everything and reorganise it all.

When you crouch down, you take a second to mentally berate yourself. Everything you had worried about had come true. Instead of being a pleasant surprise, you had come across as a nuisance.

In your rush, you hadn't fully closed the studio door behind you and you're close enough that you can just barely pick up the conversation that happens inside.

“Sorry,” you hear Chan say faintly. “I don't know what's been going on, but Y/n has been… really clingy these days. She just showed up today without asking and I hate-”

You leave before he has the chance to say anything else. You look like a mess for sure, you had just grabbed all the empty containers without bothering to put them back into the plastic bag, your jacket is partially dragging on the ground, and your purse is hanging off your elbow, having slipped off your shoulder. You're pretty sure you hear an empty drink bottle clatter to the floor behind you, but you don't look back to check.

You don't have it in you to care, you just need to leave.

Even waiting for the elevator feels humiliating, so you bypass it and stumble down the stairs. You dump the garbage into a bin on the first floor, not bothering to sort it properly, and step out onto the street, bee-lining to the nearest subway station.

The ride home passes by in a blur.

It hurts, of course it hurts. 

Honestly the reason that your relationship had worked out so far was because you weren’t the kind of person that needed a lot of attention. You understood that both of you were busy and were content to just exchange messages every couple of days because you knew how important Stray Kids was to Chan. Of course you did, they were just as important to you.

If Chan wanted space, well. You were more than capable of giving it to him.

In fact, your upcoming schedule had been the reason that you had wanted to meet up in the first place, the source of your so-called clinginess. You’d never been called that before. You were hyper-independent and tended to get lost in your own mind, easily distracted by different thoughts. It had gotten to a point that most of your exes had complained at least once about you being distant or inattentive.

With Chan, you had been determined not to be the same. It had been difficult at first, to make the effort to send messages throughout the day. You had to convince yourself not to spend too long drafting replies in your head and try not to worry that you were bothering him, especially if you knew that he had schedules at the same time that you were texting.

By the time that you make it to your apartment, your pain has faded into a mixture of resignation and numbness. You don't want to talk to Chan about how you feel, it's your clinginess that he didn't like in the first place, and you don't think you'll have time or the energy for a long, emotional conversation in the next few weeks anyway. If you keep your distance for a while, it just benefits both of you, you tell yourself. You won’t be a distraction to Chan as Stray Kids has their comeback and he won’t be one to you as you take on this new project. 

As much as you want to spend the rest of your night overthinking- something you’ve done more than you’d like to admit- you know that you have a busy day at work tomorrow. Feeling a bit like a zombie, you force yourself to shuffle through your usual nighttime routine, swallowing a melatonin pill before climbing into bed.

Normally, you would send Chan a good night message. Actually, normally you would have sent him a message the second that you arrived home. It was something that he was insistent on starting from early on in your relationship, wanting to make sure that you were safe.

Tonight, you just turn off your phone, plug it into its charger, and sleep.

—

In the morning, you allow yourself to wallow in bed for 5 minutes, before you get ready for work. You’ve never been good at eating breakfast and today’s no exception. Your stomach turns uneasily at the thought of food so you only force yourself to drink some water before you leave.

Your team at work has agreed to get to work earlier than usual just to get a headstart on everything. Though you’re more of a night owl, you’re grateful to find that deviating from your usual routine means that the subway is empty enough that you can find an empty seat, a luxury that you’ve rarely experienced.

It feels eerie to walk through the streets of Seoul when the sun has just started to rise and you’re relieved when you finally make it to your office.

Unsurprisingly, you’re one of the first to arrive. You’re grateful for the time that you have to unpack your things and make a much needed coffee before the rest of your team shows up.

“How did it go last night?” Jinjoo asks you excitedly when she comes in.

“Uhm, it was okay,” you reply noncommittally. “He was definitely surprised.”

“Oh,” Jinjoo pouts at your lack of enthusiasm.

“I mean, it wasn’t bad,” you backtrack, hating to see her disappointed. “It was just so short, he was kind of… busy. But that’s what I expected anyway so that's fine I guess. Thanks for suggesting it to me though! I really appreciate it.”

“That’s good,” Jinjoo brightens. “At least you got to see him one last time.”

“Oh yeah for sure! I think that after seeing him yesterday, it’ll be easier to deal with how busy we’re going to be for the next few weeks,” you say truthfully. 

It’s not a lie, you justify. For the first time since you started dating, you’re not looking forward to the next time that you’re going to see Chan.

You know that your communication is about to reduce to an all time low for the next few weeks, and while you had originally been worried about how Chan would react, now you’re thinking that he’s just going to be relieved not to hear from you. You’ve never thought yourself to have been overly chatty with Chan during the day though, preferring in-person conversation over texting and knowing that he’s generally not available to read your messages anyway, much less send you a reply. It seemed that you were wrong. 

Luckily your team now has to use a shared box that you’re required to put your personal phones into during working hours and only have a little bit of time during lunch and dinner breaks, if you take them, to fish them out. It’s a policy that your company enforces when teams are working on confidential projects and you can’t blame them due to past litigation that they’ve been involved in after a former employee leaked sensitive information.

For once, you're glad for this excuse to not look at your phone, even if you feel a little bit naked to look at the side of your desk or reach into your pocket and not have your phone there. You’re relieved to bury yourself in your work and forget all about your personal life. Even though your project is just starting, you feel like you're already behind. 

When you're finished work for the day and take back your phone, you find yourself reluctant to check your notifications. It's only when you're waiting for the subway to arrive at your station that you finally force yourself to take a look.

No new messages or calls from Chan.

You’re not sure what you expected, but somehow you’re still disappointed.

You get back to your apartment late, you had wanted to finish a couple of things before you left the office and it had led to you being one of the last to leave. You had also stopped by the convenience store closest to your place, not having the energy to cook anything for yourself.

You pick at your dinner half-heartedly. You're used to eating alone, Chan often had his meals at odd times due to his schedules, but tonight the silence feels more oppressive. 

It haunts you, the tail end of the overheard conversation. You have no idea how Chan was going to complete the sentence, but your mind unhelpfully fills in the blanks with worse and worse suggestions.

He hates the timing of your visit.

He hates that you visited at all.

He hates that he has such a clingy girlfriend.

He hates that you are his clingy, annoying, bothersome girlfriend.

He hates you.

In moments of clarity, you can recognize that it's not true. That's not the Chan that you know and he would never say something like that about anybody, least of all you. It's just hard when a small part of you has never really been able to believe that someone as talented and amazing as Chan would want to date someone as unremarkable as you.

You find yourself falling into a new routine, waking early, working overtime, and trying not to cry yourself to sleep. You succeed most of the time, you keep yourself occupied by thinking about work and you're so physically exhausted by your long hours that you fall asleep the second that you get into bed. Luckily, your coworkers are just as overworked as you are and it’s easy to blame your declining condition on the project. Weekends don't help you rest at all, you've committed to your manager that you can work on Saturdays and Sundays are spent completing the chores that you've neglected during the week.

You still talk to Chan sometimes, either right when you wake up or on the way home after work. The conversation is stilted though, both because of the long delays between messages when you text and the limited time that you have when you call. It's enough of a difference that Chan asks you multiple times if everything is okay. Even though you try your best to assure him that you're fine, just busy, you're sure he knows that something is off, although he doesn't question you further.

Most exciting is the day that the new Stray Kids album releases. You've already heard most of the songs for this comeback, perks of dating the member that's the most involved in the writing and production of the album, but it's different now that they're available to the public too. You make sure to organise your schedule so that you're on break when the music video drops and you send a number of messages in the group chat that you have with the group cheering them on. Usually, you try to take a day off to deliver some food to them at the music shows, but you've had to settle for arranging with one of their managers to treat them to a meal.

You can tell when they get breaks because when you check your phone after work, notifications from the members are all in the same blocks of time. It's mostly them thanking you, taking pictures of the food you sent, flowers that they've been gifted, and letters from fans. They have a short promotion period this comeback, but it's packed with different interviews, performances, and fanmeets. At one point, Felix even sends you a picture of Chan sleeping slumped over on one of the waiting room couches. As much as you're relieved to see that he's able to get some rest, the picture has your stomach twisting uncomfortably.

You're proud of Chan, of all of the boys. They've worked so hard and each comeback seems to be more and more successful. Even if you're not confident in what's going to happen with you and Chan in the future, you want to celebrate with them while you still can.

—

After almost four weeks, your project is nearing completion and you've never been more grateful to have a deadline arrive.

You only have a couple more days left until your last submittal is due and after getting off work, you want nothing more than to collapse into bed even though your stomach has been growling the whole walk from the bus to your building. You had caught a significant mistake in a document right before it was going to be sent to a client and the whole afternoon had been spent trying to fix it in time. Your team had just barely managed it, but your head has been pounding for hours and your whole body is tight with stress.

You’re not quite sure how you make it to your apartment, your exhaustion has made you clumsy. You struggle a couple times to enter in the code to unlock your door and trip over a pair of shoes that are scattered in the entryway.

You manage to catch yourself before you fall, then squint back. Yes, you haven’t had the chance to tidy your apartment in a couple weeks, but you’ve never been the type to leave your shoes on the walking path.

A light is on, further in your apartment. You know for a fact it wasn’t like that when you left this morning, it would have been obvious since you've been leaving before the sun rises. Someone else is here.

You stare at the light for a few seconds in disbelief, then slowly reach to grab something, anything that you might be able to use to defend yourself. Your shaking hands close around a full sized umbrella that you keep beside your closet. 

You’ve already made enough commotion that there’s no way the intruder didn’t hear, but you try to keep your footsteps light as you creep down the hall to where your kitchen is. It’s stupid to try and confront them, but the idea of someone in your space, potentially taking your things, is enough to inspire a sudden bout of bravery.

You hold your breath as you turn the corner, launching forward to attack the second that you see someone. You recognise the figure halfway through your swing, and though it’s too late to fully stop, you manage to pull back enough that they’re able to easily catch the umbrella before it hits them.

Chan wraps his arms around you then eases the umbrella out of your hands, resting it against the wall. You sag into his embrace, adrenaline draining away, leaving you exhausted again. 

“Chan?”

You've missed this. His warmth, his comforting scent, the reassuring steadiness that he always provides. You can almost pretend that everything is fine.

“Sorry for scaring you,” he says, sounding more amused than apologetic.

“You should be,” you grumble into his shirt. “I could have seriously injured you if I didn't realise it was you!”

“I don't think that was going to be a problem.” Even though you can't see Chan, you can hear the grin in his voice.

“Hey!” You lightly smack his arm. “You take that back!”

“Fine, fine,” Chan acquiesces, holding up both his hands in surrender. “I'm very glad that I didn't have to experience the full power of your self defence.”

“Yeah yeah,” you huff. “What are you doing here anyway? Other than trying to give me a heart attack, that is.”

“I made you dinner,” Chan says shyly, turning pink.

“For what?” you ask suspiciously. It's easy to fall back into the banter that you typically exchange with Chan, but you can't help but be a bit wary these days.

“No reason. I uh, just haven't seen you in a while,” Chan says sheepishly, scratching at the back of his neck where it’s now flushed red. “We had so much preparation to do and then all our schedules… Anyway, I wanted to surprise you, so I thought I could cook for us.”

Now that he's mentioned it, you can see that he's set your tiny kitchen table and that there's a couple of pots on the stove. Chan doesn’t cook often, but he’s expressed a desire to learn before and you’ve taught him how to make a few of your favourite recipes.

You stare at him for a moment, lost for words.

It's only been a few weeks, but you feel like you've forgotten how to act around Chan. Instead of a comfortable silence, it's almost awkward, neither of you knowing what to say.

“Oh,” you say finally, touched and still a little shocked that he's actually here. “That's- that's so nice, I just- is it okay if I wash up a bit quickly first?”

“No, yeah, of course. I'm sure you had a long day,” Chan says. “Go ahead, I’ll- the food should be reheated anyway so I’ll get on that. Take your time.”

You skirt around him to go to the bathroom, taking a moment to splash yourself with water. This feels like a bizarre dream and you wonder for a moment if you’re making this all up. But when you leave to go to your bedroom, Chan’s still there, puttering around in front of your kitchenette. You change your clothes slowly, mind racing as you try to puzzle together why Chan has decided to visit all of a sudden.

You eventually settle on the most logical reason that you can think of.

He’s finally decided to break up with you.

You’ve figured that this was coming for weeks by now, but somehow it still hurts. Instead of feeling resigned, it feels like you’re shattering into little pieces. You twist your work blouse into a tiny ball as you try not to cry, even though you know the fabric is going to wrinkle terribly. You finish cleaning up in a daze, already drafting what you're going to have to message your manager later. There's no way that you're going to be in any shape to work tomorrow if you’re right.

“Y/n?” Chan calls eventually. You know you're procrastinating leaving your room, but you want to put this off for as long as possible even though you know it’s just delaying the inevitable. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you reply with a heavy heart. “I’m fine. I'll just be another second.”

You can tell that Chan doesn’t quite believe you. He hovers around you when you emerge from your bedroom, knocking away your hand when you try to pull out your own chair from the table.

He's set the table, going so far as to fold little napkins under your utensils. There's even a tiny vase with your favourite flowers as a centrepiece. All this effort just hurts more.

“You look exhausted. You got home so late. Where were you?” he asks.

“I was at work,” you reply stiffly. You know that if you try and say any more, your emotions are going to spill over and you're either going to scream or cry. Maybe both.

“So late?” Chan's forehead creases with some sort of emotion. You can't quite tell if it's concern or scepticism.

“You're not the only one that has a demanding job.”

“Y/n, you know that's not what I meant-”

“Sure,” you say. “Whatever, let's just eat. Thank you for the food.”

You don't want to deal with this. You're so tired.

You have no idea why Chan’s dragging this out longer than it needs to be. Why he’s forcing you to sit through a meal with him like he’s not about to break your heart. Chan is one of the kindest people you know, he’s probably trying to make this easier for you, giving you one last nice memory, but it just feels cruel.

Chan reaches out, stopping you before you can pick up your chopsticks. He stares at the way his fingers overlap each other around your wrist.

“You’ve lost weight,” he says quietly. You look away, watching steam curl from the bowl of rice that has been set in front of you instead of returning eye contact.

“I’ve been busy.” Is all you can say in response. 

You don’t want to tell him that you’ve been basically subsisting on iced americanos and various convenience store meals in part because of your work schedule, but mostly because of your lack of appetite. Every time you thought of Chan, it made your stomach turn and well, everything reminded you of him. You hadn’t realised how much it had actually affected your physical condition until now though.

“You're not taking care of yourself,” he scolds you. You can feel yourself bristle at his comment even though you know it’s true. “I haven't been around to take care of you either. I'm sorry.”

“Chan,” you protest. It has been weeks since you last saw him in person and you’ve spent more time that you’d like to admit micro analysing your relationship, but you still can’t make sense of his behaviour, especially how he keeps switching between criticism and tenderness.

“What?” he asks in genuine confusion.

“Why are you here?”

“I missed you,” Chan says, sounding hurt and confused. “I haven’t seen you in so long.”

“I just- I don’t understand what you want from me!” You run your hands through your hair in frustration. “One day you don’t want me around, we go weeks without seeing each other, then you’re at my place cooking me dinner? You said you needed space, I gave you space."

“Woah woah woah, what do you mean I don’t want you around?” Chan asks, alarmed. “When have I ever said that?”

“You made it pretty clear that you didn’t appreciate it when I went to bring you dinner that day,” you start.

“No, baby!” Chan stands up abruptly before you can say anything else. He falters when the loud scrape of his chair causes you to flinch back. He slowly walks towards you and kneels in front of you, reaching out to hold your hands in his. His eyes are wide with earnestness. “Of course I wanted to spend time with you. I always want to be with you.”

“So why did you call me clingy?” you ask in a small voice. Gone is your anger, replaced with a self-consciousness that you can’t hide. You look away as tears prickle your eyes.

Gently, Chan lets go of your hands and cups your cheeks instead, turning your face so that he can see you better. His thumbs swipe under your eyes, brushing away the tears that have managed to escape.

“Baby,” he says, sounding even more upset and angry than you feel. “I'm sorry. Did someone tell you I said that?”

“Nobody had to tell me, I heard you say it myself!” you burst out, pushing Chan away. You know that you’re being dramatic, that you keep oscillating between different emotions, but you don’t care. “That day, in your studio, you told Han and Changbin that I was really clingy.”

“You heard me talking to Binnie and Hannie?” Chan asks slowly.

“I didn't mean to eavesdrop,” you sniffle. One of Chan's hands shifts and he carefully tucks behind a lock of hair that has fallen in front of your face. The gentleness makes even more tears well up.

“It's okay, I think I know what you overheard now. It must have hurt, right?”

You can't muster up a response, choosing instead to just nod slightly.

“I’m sorry, I'm sorry,” he soothes you. “Can I explain myself?”

You pause for a moment, then slowly nod again.

“I don't mind that you're clingy, actually, I like it. I shouldn't have used that word. I like that you want to spend time with me, Y/n,” Chan says carefully. “I like that you take time to visit me, even though I know that your work is busy too. I think that it's cute and thoughtful that you think of me and try to take care of me by bringing me food. I know that you intentionally take the time out of your day to text me because you know that I like hearing from you, even though I might not see it or respond right away.”

Chan pauses for a second and you use it as an opportunity to pull away slightly. His hands tighten briefly, before he lets them fall away, giving you the space to process.

It's not that you don't like what Chan is saying, it's just hard to reconcile it with the thoughts that have been eating away at you for the past few weeks. You still don't understand what you overheard though, how it fits into all of this. When you voice your concerns to Chan, he sighs, before continuing to speak.

“I don't know what I did to have someone as caring and thoughtful as you in my life.” You want to protest, but Chan carries on before you can say anything. “It's just that- you visited me without notice and were the sweetest person in the world. I wanted to spend time with you, believe me, I did, but I can't just ignore my deadlines when the rest of the members are relying on me. It makes me feel like garbage when I can’t give you all my attention. That's the thing I hate the most. That I can't be the boyfriend that you deserve. That I can't show you how much you mean to me the way that I want to.”

It makes sense, in some sort of twisted way. You know that similarly to you, Chan often feels insecure. It had taken a while before you had been able to convince him that you really did want to be in a relationship with him even with all of the difficulties that were associated with being an idol. You hadn't realised that your visit had fed into his worries that he wasn’t enough.

“I didn't know,” you say quietly. “I'm sorry.”

“Hey, I didn't tell you how I was feeling and that's on me. I’m the one that’s sorry, you have no reason to be. I should have been clearer about what was going through my mind and it wasn't any excuse for the way that spoke to you. Even if I wasn't at my best, I can't believe that I made you feel like I didn't want you to be around.” Chan shakes his head and you can tell that he's beating himself up about it. This time, you're the one that reaches out to him, grabbing one of his hands in both of yours.

“I am sorry that I put you into that position, though. I got caught up in the idea of how fun and romantic it might be, that I didn't give enough consideration to your schedule. Even though I wanted to surprise you, it would have been better to check with you beforehand. I don't ever want you to have to feel like you have to choose between me and work.”

“It was a really nice surprise,” Chan agrees. “I wish that I hadn't been so wrapped up that I wasn't able to enjoy spending time with you. I really hated not being able to see you these past few weeks.”

“It was really hard for me too,” you admit.

“I missed you so much. I missed your beautiful voice, hearing your laugh, seeing your smile. I missed all the texts that you usually send, they make me feel like I'm not as far away, that I'm a part of your day too. You kept saying that everything was fine and- I know it's hard for you, especially during comeback periods when I'm not as responsive. I didn't want to pressure you into messaging me more often if I'm not able to do the same.”

“No, it's not that. It doesn't bother me. Work was, is still really busy for me,” you explain. “I was trying to tell you that day, but-”

“But I basically shut you down,” Chan realises. He laughs bitterly. “I’m just the worst, aren't I? No wonder you were so confused by why I was here.”

“I thought you were going to break up with me tonight,” you whisper. Chan looks devastated by your statement.

 “No- you know I wouldn't-” Chan stumbles on his words in his haste to correct you.

“I don't think that anymore,” you reassure him. “I understand everything now, it was just that we didn't communicate well and I assumed… It's okay, we're together now, this won't happen again.”

“I promise that I will make it up to you. I love you and I will prove it to you in every way possible. And I'm going to start right now. You still haven't eaten yet, please go ahead.” Chan moves back to his abandoned chair and doles out a portion of the stew from the pot that's on the table. 

“I am really hungry,” you confess. Your stomach chooses that exact moment to growl loudly and the two of you can’t help but burst into laughter. 

Just like that, it feels like things are back to normal.

You know that there's still more that you and Chan have to talk about. The two of you have only scratched the surface on your insecurities, communication, and how those things led to such a significant misunderstanding.

But tonight, it's enough that you get to share a meal with the man that you love.

read it on ao3 | masterlist

[woninggg]

girll i crave, I CRAVEEE opposites attract, rival coworkers enemies to lovers typa smut with cheol and i think you are only one who can write this. i love your work and live for your work. thank you sooo muchhh for decide to write here💖

🐇:ahhh ty so much my love this made my day also this was so fun yet so hard to write(since English is not my first language) but I kinda love the result hehe

bite back~ 崔胜澈 Rival!Coworker!Choi Seungcheol × Rival!Coworker!Reader

Warnings: office AU, smut, degradation, dom cheol, desk sex, unprotected sex, minor choking, and mutual obsession disguised as hatred.

ᶻᶻ..more content under the cut┈✦

The worst thing about Choi Seungcheol wasn’t that he was good at his job.

No, that wasn’t it. If anything, you would have respected him for that. You didn’t mind competition—in fact, you thrived on it. But Seungcheol was a different breed of competitor. He wasn’t just good, he was arrogant about it. A smug, self centered, insufferable bastard who made sure you knew exactly where he stood in the company hierarchy.

And unfortunately, that spot was right next to yours.

The rivalry started the moment you joined. He had been the golden boy of the company, the one everyone looked up to, until you showed up. You weren’t intimidated by his reputation, nor were you interested in playing second to anyone. And from the moment you went head-to-head in your first project, you knew neither of you would back down.

It wasn’t just competition. It was war.

You challenged every one of his ideas. He shot down every one of yours. You undercut his suggestions in meetings, he made sure to find flaws in every pitch you presented. He stole deals right out from under you, and you made sure to return the favor.

And somehow, despite your mutual hatred, the company refused to separate you.

“You two work well together” your boss had said once, completely ignoring the way you and Seungcheol were glaring daggers at each other across the conference table.

Work well together. Right. If by “well” he meant in the same way oil and water did, then sure.

And tonight was no different.

You were stuck in the office well past midnight, both of you hunched over your respective desks, working on a last minute client proposal. Management had assigned it to both of you, because of course they had—insisting that your “combined talents” would deliver the best results.

You could barely focus with him in the room. every time he shifted, every time he sighed, every time his damn pen scratched against the paper, it grated on your nerves.

“Can you stop breathing so loud?” you snapped, eyes shooting daggers at him.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t realize my existence was such a burden on you.” Seungcheol’s voice dripped with sarcasm, not bothering to look up from his own paperwork.

Your eyes narrowed at the sound of his voice, your grip on your pen tightening until you feared it might snap.

“Don’t call me that,” you spat back. The last thing you needed was for him to think he could get under your skin. But it was already too late.

He chuckled under his breath, the sound irritatingly deep. “You’re really in a mood tonight, huh? What’s wrong, project not turning out the way you wanted?”

You gritted your teeth. “My project is fine.”

“Mm. Sure about that?” He finally looked up from his laptop, leaning back in his chair with that signature smirk you wanted to slap off his face. “Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re struggling.”

Your eye twitched. You had never hit a coworker before, but tonight might be the night.

“For fuck’s sake” you muttered, shoving your chair back and standing abruptly. “Do you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk?”

He mirrored your movement, standing as well, and you hated that he was taller, and that he could look down at you like he was amused.

“I don’t know” he mused, taking a slow step closer. “Do you ever get tired of trying to prove you’re better than me?”

Your jaw clenched. “I don’t have to prove anything. I am better than you.”

His smirk widened, his tongue running along the inside of his cheek. “Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.”

The way he said 'sweetheart' was like nails on a chalkboard, and it made something snap inside you.

Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe it was the stress. Maybe it was the way the tension between you had been building for so long, thick and suffocating.

Or maybe it was just him.

The unbearable way he looked at you, like he was daring you to break first.

So you did.

You shoved him—both hands pressed against his chest, pushing with all your strength.

He barely stumbled.

Instead, he grabbed your wrists before you could pull away, spinning you around and pressing your back against your desk.

“What the hell are you—”

“You’ve been waiting to do that, haven’t you?” he murmured, voice low.

You refused to back down. Your chin lifted defiantly. “What, shove you? Yeah. Since the day I met you.”

His fingers tightened around your wrists. “I wasn’t talking about that.”

The air grew thick with something you hadn’t noticed before—or maybe you had, but had ignored it because acknowledging it would mean admitting that you felt something other than pure hatred for him.

“You hate me, right?” he murmured, pressing in closer, his thigh sliding between yours. “So tell me to stop.”

Your nails dug into his wrists, your heartbeat pounding in your ears. “Fuck you.”

His lips curled. “That’s what I thought.”

Before you could protest, his mouth was on yours. His hand moved, fingers wrapping around your jaw, grip just tight enough to make you suck in a breath.

The kiss wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was violent, all teeth and dominance and raw frustration.

His hands slid down, gripping your hips so tight it hurt, lifting you onto the desk as his body slotted between your legs. You yanked at his shirt, pulling him even closer, biting down on his lip just to make him groan.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you panted against his mouth.

He laughed darkly, his fingers already working the buttons of your blouse. “Of course not.”

And yet, the way he dragged his hands down your body like he needed to memorize every inch, told a different story.

Your skirt was shoved up, your underwear pushed aside, and then— a sharp gasp left your lips as his fingers slid inside you, finding you embarrassingly wet.

He groaned, his forehead pressing against yours. “Fuck. This whole ? You’ve been this soaked, and you’ve been acting like you hate me?”

You bit your lip, refusing to answer, but he wasn’t having it.

“Tell me,” he murmured, curling his fingers, dragging a moan from you. “Tell me how bad you want it.”

You shook your head, breathless, defiant. “You don’t get to win.”

He chuckled. “Sweetheart, I already won the moment you let me touch you.”

Your cheeks burned with fury, and you bucked your hips, trying to dislodge his hand. But it was too late. His thumb found your clit, circling it in a way that made your knees tremble.

You wanted to slap the smug grin off his face, to wipe the victory from his eyes. But as he continued to kiss you, all thought of anything other than the heat between you disappeared. Your hands moved of their own accord, reaching up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. You didn’t want this, you told yourself, but your body had other ideas.

Seungcheol’s other hand reached up his thumb brushing against the swell of your breast, making your breath hitch. The friction of his trousers against your thighs was agonizing, the fabric rough against your sensitive skin. You could feel his erection pressing into your stomach, demanding attention.

“Say you hate me again,” he whispered against your ear, his breath hot and tickling. “Say it while you’re dripping all over my fingers.”

You bit back a moan, hating how much his words affected you. But you weren’t about to let him have the satisfaction of knowing how much you craved this.

So, you spat out the words with all the venom you had left. “I fucking hate you, Choi Seungcheol.”

His eyes darkened, his smile turning feral. “Keep saying it” he murmured, his thumb moving faster on your clit. “Let’s see if you can convince either of us.”

Your body betrayed you, arching into his touch, a whimper escaping your throat. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you—”

Seungcheol’s eyes burned into yours, he cut you off by sliding another finger inside you, stretching you out, as you felt the beginnings of a climax building.

His pace was brutal, pumping his fingers into you with no hesitation, curling them just right until your legs threatened to give out.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Bet you touch yourself thinking about me.”

You swallowed down the moan rising in your throat, your eyes squeezed shut. You clenched around his fingers, making him chuckle. “That’s what I thought.”

You were so close, so fucking close, but you’d be damned if you gave him the satisfaction of knowing it.

“Fucking asshole,” you bit out, even as your body begged for release.

His fingers pulled out of you instantly, leaving you empty, and you were about to curse at him until he grabbed your hips, yanking you back against him roughly.

“You want it rough?” he taunted, the sound of his belt unbuckling making your stomach tighten with anticipation. You didn’t answer, your breathing ragged.

You hated him for making you feel like this, for reducing you to this quivering mess of need. You hated him, hated the way his hands felt on you, hated how badly you wanted more. God, you despised Choi Seungcheol, and yet here you were, letting him do whatever he wanted to your body.

He slammed into you, all at once, stretching you open so suddenly that all you could do was gasp. The words died on your tongue, your nails digging into his arms, and his low groan against your ear sent a shiver down your spine.

“Look at you” he murmured, as he pulled out just enough to thrust back in, the force pushing you further up the desk. “So fucking cocky in the office, but now? You’re letting me fuck you open without a fight?”

You smirked, breathless. “Didn’t say I wouldn’t fight.”

And just to prove your point, you lifted your leg, wrapping it around his waist and rolling your hips deliberately. He cursed, his fingers flexing against your skin before he retaliated, grabbing the back of your knee and pushing your leg higher, forcing you open even more.

“You really wanna test me right now?” he growled, punctuating the words with a brutal thrust that had your head falling back against the desk.

Your moan echoed through the quiet office, and you knew the moment he heard it that you’d lost the upper hand.

"That’s more like it,” he muttered, dragging his lips along your jaw before biting down just enough to leave a mark. “All that attitude, but at the end of the day, this is what you really wanted, isn’t it?”

You refused to give him that satisfaction. “Fuck you.”

“You are.”

Your glare was half-hearted at best, especially when he pulled back just to watch himself sink into you again, a low groan slipping past his lips. “Shit. You’re squeezing me so tight. You sure you hate me?”

You bit your lip, refusing to answer, but the way your body responded to him told the truth.

Seungcheol knew it. And he was eating it up.

“I could make you cum just like this, couldn’t I?” he murmured against your ear, rolling his hips in a way that had you gasping. “Just from my cock stretching you open, fucking you deep, making you feel exactly how you’re supposed to?”

Your hands fisted in his shirt, your pride hanging by a thread. You couldn’t let him win. But then he moved his hand from your thigh to your throat, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

His grip wasn’t tight—just enough pressure to keep you grounded, and make your head spin with something you didn’t want to name.

“Say it.” His voice was a low command, rough and dripping with dominance. “Say you need me to make you cum.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse racing against his palm. Suddenly his other hand slipped between your bodies, fingers finding your clit with practiced ease.

Your entire body jolted at the contact, a choked moan escaping your lips before you could stop it. The overstimulation of his cock driving into you, his hand wrapped around your throat, and now his fingers rubbing slow, deliberate circles—it was too much.

“Seungcheol—”

“Say it.” His lips brushed against your jaw. “Or should I stop?”

You gasped, shaking your head immediately. “Don’t.”

He smirked against your skin, but his movements slowed, teasing. “Then say it.”

Your pride was shattered, as your body trembled with need. You couldn’t hold out anymore, not when the pleasure was coiling so tight in your stomach, threatening to snap.

“Fuck—I need you,” you whispered, barely audible.

Seungcheol groaned, his cock twitching inside you, but it wasn’t enough. “Louder.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, your face burning“I need you to make me cum.”

The satisfaction in his chuckle made you want to slap him, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it.

Because the moment the words left your mouth, he was relentless. His thrusts turned brutal, his fingers pressing harder against your clit, his grip on your throat tightening just slightly.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, possessive and smug.

The way he said it sent you spiraling, making the pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your entire body tensed, your walls fluttering around him as your orgasm hit you like a truck. You were barely aware of the sounds you were making—half moan, half desperate cry, until you felt him groan against your skin.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he whined, his rhythm faltering. “Look at you—fuck—so pretty when you cum for me.”

His hips stuttered, his hands gripping you even tighter as he thrust deep one last time, his own release hitting him with a guttural groan. You felt, the warmth, and the way he pulsed inside you—and fuck, you shouldn’t have liked it as much as you did.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, both of you catching your breath, the only sound in the room the ragged inhales and exhales of two people who had just crossed a line they could never uncross.

Then, slowly, Seungcheol leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath still uneven.

“Still think you don’t need me?” he murmured, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Your glare was weak, your limbs too spent to push him away. “Shut up.”

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through your chest, “So, are we going to pretend like this never happened or...?”

his fingers brushed along your thigh almost absentmindedly as he pulled out, leaving you feeling cold and exposed. You reached down to fix your skirt, your cheeks still flushed with the intensity of your orgasm.

And that’s when it hit you.

This wasn’t the end.

This was just the beginning.

more.┈✦

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Eye Candy 🍬

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Jason Todd × chubby/curvy!reader

FINALLY. I've been wanting to get this out for forever but shit kinda hit the fan and I'm also sick right now lol

This is pure comedy. So much fun to write!! This is for all my thick girlies <3

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Jason wants you to meet his brother (Dick) and his best friend (Roy). As if that wasn't enough of a bomb, doubt starts to creep into your mind at the realization that your curves would make you stand out like a sore thumb in the Wayne family. Jason proves you wrong by taking you to a bar and letting Dick and Roy walk right into a trap.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

"You want me to what?"

"Hey, it's not that big of a deal-... yeah, no, it's... it's a big deal." Jason winced, brows furrowing while he flexed his hands around his mug.

Coffee- of course it was, though it was far too late in the day for even more caffeine, or so you'd scolded him once again.

You were staring at him, slack jawed, eyes widened just slightly as a brief huff of disbelief left your lips.

"Jay, you just told me you want me to meet your family. In what world is that not a big deal?!" You exclaimed, your tone a little more screeching than you'd liked.

He sighed, shoulders dropping ever so slightly, his eyes turned away as a frown etched itself onto his features.

"It's just Roy and Dick, s'not really meeting my family." He mumbled, toying with the handle of his cup, scratching his nails against the ceramic.

"Look, you don't have to, alright? I just thought-... I guess I don't really know what I thought."

Your heart ached. You've never seen him so defeated. So utterly downtrodden. His back slouched, head hung low while his gaze was focused on anything but you.

That heartbreaking glimmer in his eyes that never failed to make your own water.

Gently, you pried the mug from his grip and set it aside, taking his hands in yours.

The action made Jason avert his attention back to you, looking like a kicked puppy.

"I do want to meet them. I really, really do. Because they are your family, whether you want to admit it or not." You smiled softly, watching as he lit up immediately, a huff of relief making his chest feel lighter.

"I'm just nervous. And worried, I suppose? What they'll think, you know. I'm sure that I'm not exactly what they imagine when they think of your girlfriend." You chuckled nervously.

Jason, on the other hand, looked confused. Eyes narrowed, You-can-see-the-gears-turning-but-nothing-is-happening confused.

"What in the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

You cackled at the expression on his face and the goofy tone of his voice.

"Okay, let me put it like this. You're family is a bunch of buff, unfairly jacked and lean super geniuses. Not to mention how good the girls look. And Kori? She's a literal space princess! I just feel like I don't quite fit in. Can you imagine someone like me at one of those Galas? They would lose their minds-"

"'Someone like you? You mean a gorgeous, beautiful, stunning plump lady with a brain so big I sometimes wonder how your neck is still intact? You mean someone like that? Because we could use more of that, trust me." He chuckled dryly.

"Also, you're hot as fuck." He deadpanned, blankly staring at you.

You playfully rolled your eyes, tracing the space between his knuckles.

"A. I know, B. you're biased. I mean, they all probably expect you to date some super model." You explained, sighing.

You knew your worth. You knew that you were beautiful and perfect just they way you are, even beginning to love yourself.

But when challenged with a family full of hotties like the Wayne's plus Gotham's elite, it was hard not to feel just a little out of place with all your curves, bumps and pudge.

Jason's lips were pressed together in a thin line before he inhaled sharply and pinned you down with his gaze.

"Alright, first of all, they have no expectation of who I'd date because I was fuckin' dead, and when I came back my only interest was revenge and smashing peoples heads in. If anything they thought I would die alone."

The bluntness of his words and the expecting raise in his brows had you shell shocked, and pleasantly surprised.

"You're making problems for yourself that don't exist, ladybird." His tone turned soft as did his eyes, enveloping your heart in a blanket of warmth.

"So, respectfully, you don't have a point." He concluded for you, leaning back against the couch with a satisfied noise.

"Huh, I guess I don't." You breathed out, a smile spreading on your face while Jason already sported a wicked grin.

"There ya go. Now, can I brag about my hot, smart and curvaceous girlfriend to my dickhead brother and loser best friend? Because, sweetheart, you're one hell of a woman." He smirked, leaning in to get you all hot and bothered by his proximity.

You bit your lip, trying to act unaffected by his antics.

"Okay, fine," You groaned, feigning annoyance, "But only because I love you." You finished, failing to hide the smile on your face.

In one swift motion, Jason grabbed you and pulled you into his lap, your back pressed firmly to his chest. You let out a startled noise that morphed into a laugh.

"See? Just had to butter you up a bit, pretty girl." He nosed at your neck, a grin showing off his pearly whites while his arms were snaked around your middle.

"What can I say? You have a way with words." You smirked, looking back at him over your shoulder.

Jason chuckled and turned you in his lap, making you face him.

"I do have a very skilled tongue, as you know." He winked at you, kneading the fat of your hips in his hands.

You groaned and rolled your eyes before grinning and pinching his cheek.

"So, you up for tomorrow? It'll just be at a shitty bar somewhere. They won't judge you, I promise. And if they do, they can take it up with Fuck-" Jason raised one arm and flexed his bicep, "and You." With a wide smile, he lifted his other arm, and you watched as his muscles practically inflated.

You giggled, squeezing his arm with an approving nod of your head.

"I'll be there. I just have some errands to run, so I'll meet you at the place, yeah?" You replied sweetly, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose.

Jason's face scrunched up at your kiss, making him look like an adorable little bunny.

"Sounds good, ladybird." He replied, smiling.

There was something hiding beneath that smile, though. Something sinister. Mischievous. You squinted your eyes at him.

"... What are you up to?" You asked suspiciously, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Who? Me? I'm not up to anything." He replied sweetly, batting his lashes at you.

"Mhm." You hummed, searching for a hint in his teal eyes.

You could see his resolve cracking, his gaze breaking from your for just a split second. You continued to stare at him. Jason cleared his throat and gave you a tight smile before striking.

Quickly, he pushed you off his lap, making you stumble to the floor of your living room on shaky legs before he lowered himself to the ground, hooking one arm around your knees and hoisting you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

You screeched, digging your hands into his hoodie so you wouldn't fall.

"What the fuck! What are you doing?!" You screamed, cracking into a smile when you heard Jason cackle mischievously.

He moved quickly, rounding the couch and any obstacles with ease.

"Well, you see, I've been stumblin' over my words all day. Care to help me loosen up my tongue at bit, doll?" He grinned, hurrying to your bedroom.

"Jason!-"

Your voice burst with a laugh before you were interrupted by a loud crack when his hand met the back of your thigh.

You gasped, quickly followed by a slap against his clothed back.

"Remember that name, angel. I have a feeling you'll be using it a lot tonight."

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

"So, she coming?" Roy asked curiously, settling back into the deep-set lounge with his drink.

The redhead was seated in the middle, between the brothers, earning a shove and an annoyed eyeroll from Jason.

Dick snickered, taking a sip of his beverage.

"Why are you so obsessed with my girl, dude?"

"We just wanna make sure she's real. I'd hate to break you out of Arkham again, little wing." Dick grinned from behind the rim of his glass.

"Wow." Roy clicked his tongue, nodding along to the diabolical comment.

Jason only stared at his brother blankly, blinking once, then twice.

"Too far?" Dick asked, wincing slightly.

"Whaddya think, dickhead?" Roy sighed sharply.

"You should be so glad that I'm in therapy. Otherwise I woulda wiped the floor with you right now." Jason mumbled, taking a swig of his drink.

"It's the Piña Coladas talking." His brother chuckled awkwardly.

Jason just snorted, leaning against the soft cushions.

"To answer your question, yes, she's coming." Roy lit up, excitedly setting his beer down on the table.

"Really? So we get to meet the fabled ladybird, huh?" The redhead grinned, bumping his shoulder with Jason's.

He only shook his head and playfully rolled his eyes at Roy.

"Why didn't she come with you, then?" Dick asked, brows furrowed.

"Had to stop by the craft store." Jason replied simply, finishing his drink.

"Oh, so it's like that? You really did get yourself a pretty little thing, didn't you?" Dick smirked, watching as Jason chuckled in response.

"Dickhead's right. They not only make pieces of art, they are ones." Roy agreed.

Dick scoffed at the nickname.

"She's pretty alright. Looks like she belongs in the Louvre." Jason responded with a smile, then immediately regretting that decision when Roy and Dick began to look like the cheshire cat.

"Ooooo, Jay's in looooove." Roy teased with a chuckle.

"Did little wing find an even littler wing? That's adorable." Duck sniffled, wiping a faux tear from his lashline.

Jason grumbled in response, flipping them off.

"At least I didn't cheat on my girl." He mumbled sharply, hiding behind his second -or third?- glass of the night.

Dick's smile fell and he was reduced to a muttering mess, pouting like a child.

"God, you guys are actual children. Can I have one night-"

they both glanced at Roy when he stopped speaking, his lips parted as he stared at the entrance of the bar.

"You're lettin' flies in, carrot top." Jason said blankly.

Roy let out a low whistle, loosely gesturing to the bar before a smirk cracked on his face.

"Look at that piece of Eye Candy over there."

Dick followed his line of sight.

"Fuck me." He cursed, eyes wide.

"Look at those hips, jesus-"

"Now that's a woman."

Jason was mid sip, uninterested in this mystery woman ordering a drink at the bar. But, he glanced up anyway, only to choke on his drink when his eyes landed on you.

He sputtered, coughing as he felt the alcohol go up his nose.

"Woah, she got you good, didn't she?" Roy teased with a laugh, patting his back.

"Yep.." Jason croaked out, holding back a laugh.

"I'm telling ladybird." Dick said quickly.

Snitch.

"When will she be here anyway? It's been a while." He questioned, pulling up his sleeve to take a look at his watch.

"Soon, soon.." Jason replied, clearing his throat.

"Man, she could sit on me, and I'd thank her. And that rack-"

Roy continued letting his eyes trail over your body.

As amusing as Jason found this little misunderstanding, he couldn't help but grind his teeth and clench his fists.

Meanwhile, Dick delivered a slap to the back of Roy's head.

"Pervert! You don't talk about women like that." He scolded the redhead.

"Says you! As if you don't wanna be suffocated by those thighs or-or knock out on that tummy, I know you do!" Roy said sharply, pointing an accusing finger at Dick.

"Of course I do, but I didn't say it out loud, now did I?" He replied in a condescending tone.

"You fucking-"

"Oh, look, she's approaching us." Jason said nonchalantly, leaning back into the cushions with a grin, watching as the petty bickering between his brother and best friend stopped immediately.

"I call dibs! I saw her first." Roy said quickly, straightening his posture and trying to look unbothered while you approached.

"God fucking dammit." Dick cursed, being left to grumble with his Piña Colada.

He looked at Jason, who was comfortably leaned back with a smirk.

"How are you so chill about this?!" Dick asked irritated.

"You'll see." Jason grinned.

You walked towards them with a smile, the drink you'd just ordered at the bar in your hand. Roy put up his most charming face and quickly cleared his throat.

"Hello there, sweethea-"

his entire face dropped when you placed a hand on Jason's shoulder and pressed a kiss to his lips. His hands instinctively went to rest on your hips, giving them a gentle squeeze.

"Hi, baby." You greeted sweetly.

"Hey there, ladybird." Jason grinned, glancing at Roy and Dick.

The redheads jaw was on the floor, speechless while his gaze flitted between you and his best friend. Dick was just as shocked, but quickly broke out of it.

"THAT’S LADYBIRD?!" He yelled, earning harsh stares from other guests.

Dick quieted down with an apologetic smile and leaned closer to Jason.

"You fucking asshole! Why didn't you do anything? You let us say all those things-" at the realization Dick went pale.

"He's gonna beat our asses." Roy mumbled, still staring at you and Jason.

"... Fuck."

You just stood there dumbfounded while Jason had a grin on his face that made a shiver run down Roy's spine.

"What things?" You asked, you brows furrowed in confusion.

Jason pulled you into his lap, resting one of his hands on your thigh.

"Don't worry about it, angel." He said softly, pecking your cheek.

"How the hell did you end with such a charity case as Jason?" Roy asked bluntly, slumped in his seat, defeated.

"Excuse me?" You sputtered with a scoff.

"That's a lot of nerve coming from someone looking like an affair baby." You shot back.

Dick burst out laughing, Jason cackling along side him while Roy only stared at you.

"And she's feisty? Fuuuuuuck.." He whined.

"Nice to meet you, ladybird." Dick gave you a friendly smile and nod, still wiping the tears from his eyes.

You returned the smile before leaning in to whisper into Jason's ear.

"Is the rest of your family also like this?"

"Like what?"

"Loudmouth assholes." You replied, staring straight at Roy who looked like you just slapped his mother.

Jason laughed, throwing his head back when he saw Roy's face.

"Ah, no. Some of them are quiet assholes."

Dick scoffed, immediately defending himself and his siblings with big hand gestures.

You chuckled as you watched.

"Don't be sad, carrot top," Jason began, giving Roy's shoulder a squeeze, "You couldn't handle her if you tried."

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Jason loves fat girls. Argue with the wall <3

Let me know what you think! 😚🩷

More of Jason and others -> 💫

《DC Taglist》: @allysunny @arkhamknightscxnt @gaozorous-rex-blog @hellonhells-x

Comment to be added 🐝🫧

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

[chuluoyi]

✎ rivals... in love?

- gojo satoru x reader

gojo is in shambles—so suguru might have a crush on you too?

genre: high school!gojo being a menace but pls spare him he just can't take losing, you see... crack, totally jealous!gojo, justice for geto, enemies to lovers, fluff

note: people have been asking for this so this is up next! i'm writing this while listening to bigbang's bang bang bang and fantastic baby so if gojo is a bit unhinged... you know why

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

No way. There is just no way.

Satoru felt his eyes itch and twitch uncomfortably. Despite the opaque black tint of his sunglasses, he could still distinctly see you happily giggling.

“Geto-san, that’s so funny!”

With Suguru. His ride or die. Your massive crush.

Your crisp laughter rang in his ears, scorching his ego and igniting it in flames—that was precisely the reaction he had hoped to receive from you too!

"Aren't they just cute?" Yaga was suddenly beside him with a wistful smile, looking at you and his other student a few feet away. "What do the television say again... a perfect match? In this case, a perfect match made in jujutsu school, then."

And responding to your bubbly self, creating the very picture of perfect match made in jujutsu school indeed, Suguru was every bit as enthusiastic. “Nah, wait until you see this—”

"Perfect match my ass," Satoru grumbled outwardly, rolling his eyes, but he immediately dashed away before his teacher could bonk him in the head for cussing.

It was harmless conversation, or jokes, or whatever. Because Suguru couldn't possibly reciprocate your feelings. His type is women of gravure magazines—Satoru had deemed it as such.

…Right?

At this point, he wasn't in enough denial to say that he didn't like you, because he had made it so clear that he was, in fact, obsessed. He wasn’t shying away from the things he did, which included annoying you constantly, asking you out after school, helping you in missions, and sending you few pick up lines here and there.

And he thought he was certain he could whisk you off your feet. After all, who else could measure up to him and win?

Heh, no one.

(or basically that's just him ignoring the intrusive little voice in his mind that whispered, “Suguru!”)

“So what's with the nice act, huh?” Satoru blew his bangs in a huff as he questioned his best friend with a twinge of dissatisfaction. “Do you like her or something?”

Suguru quirked his eyebrow at him. “What?”

“Don’t play dumb. I have noticed how you two have been joined at the hip lately,” and with deliberate intention to spite his best friend, he made the sourest face as he mockingly recited, “Wait till you see this~”

Instantly realizing what he meant, Suguru burst into a loud snicker. “Come on, Satoru, really? Surely you aren't that petty. We were just chatting—”

“Not that. I know. What I'm asking now is that do you like her or not?”

It wasn't a rare sight to see Satoru with a pout and a frown, and usually he'd humor him. But this time, even Suguru could see that there was something different in the way he asked this. And should he say something that irked him then—

“Heh, so what if I am?”

That's the wrong answer.

Satoru halted abruptly, whipping his head around in sheer shock. "What the heck?"

“She’s a nice junior, kind, easy on the eyes,” Suguru shrugged, flashing him a dauntless smile. “Only a fool would let the chance pass up. Satoru, if you keep dawdling, one of these days, I just might—”

“Wha—hey!? That’s totally foul—!”

“Nah, they do say all is fair in love and war now, isn’t it?”

By a mind-boggling twist of events, apparently his best friend was also a guy after his dream girl. Satoru was irked, challenged, and he would never admit it, but a tiny part of him recoiled because Suguru clearly had an early start and a boost—you favored him first.

This was unexpected, and now he was conjuring up various scenarios of what he should do. He must act fast or else...

Little did he know that Suguru was thoroughly relishing his restlessness.

Everyone around you said that your relationship with Gojo Satoru... is intriguing to say the least. And especially ever since that one botched mission you two went, you also felt there was a shift in your dynamics.

And if by intriguing they mean him constantly blocking your way and invading your space, then yes, it definitely is.

"Okay, okay, but wait, just hear me out!"

You halted your steps and faced him with an annoyed frown. You really had no time for this. You were about to be sent on a mission. "Gojo, really, can't you just—"

"Okay, I know he's dashing, or whatever," he huffed, the last word he said with a hint of disdain. "But hear me out, and I'm sure you'll reconsider."

"Who are you talki—"

"Who else!? Suguru, of course!"

You couldn't possibly arch your eyebrow even higher, and before you could say anything, he somehow took it as his cue to keep going.

“First, he eats curses. Cursed spirits! He eats them like rice balls! Can you imagine just how foul the taste is?”

"Gojo, I don't have the time—"

"Then! Going from that, just imagine kissing him," he stressed, eyeing you intensely as your own eyes felt like popping out by the sheer suggestion. "What if you taste the cursed spirits rice ball?"

"You're unbeliev—"

"Wait! Can you even kiss him? What if his cursed spirits suddenly pop out of him? Are you willing to kiss his little friends—"

"He's your best friend!" you finally interjected, obviously and utterly in shock by his unhinged rambling. "How could you say all of that?"

"No, you're getting me wrong." Satoru's clicked his tongue. "I'm just listing facts why it's better for you not to end up with him."

You barked a dry laugh. "And? Better with you, you mean? That's awfully biased."

"Why yes of course! Self-promo is never bad," he blatantly retorted. "Let me just tell you aallll you need to know about me!"

He audibly cracked his knuckles and puffed out his chest. "You know already, I'm strong. I can protect you well. My cursed technique doesn't involve eating curses, so you don't have to worry about tasting the said curses on my lips."

How could he blurt all of this with that perpetually playful expression? A chuckle escaped you unwittingly and that only spurred him to go on.

"And I'm handsome!" he boldly claimed, pointing at his face with pride. "And obviously I don't need to say this, but I'm filthy rich—"

At that, you burst into hearty laughter, unable to hold it in any longer.

Satoru's eyes sparkled, lit as if someone had just made his day. "All in all, you know what I mean. Everything with me, all of it is going to be fantastic!"

Even you couldn't deny that all of this exchange had been so amusing. Hilariously so. "You're down bad, huh?" you tried to taunt, although it seemed like a burst of snicker. Yet, you were caught off-guard when he said:

"For you?" his little smirk made your insides suddenly all jumbled up. "Yes."

Huh? What is this? Your bravado faltered a bit as your heart did a somersault inside.

It wasn't supposed to thump this hard. You weren't supposed to feel this overwhelming urge to squeal too. And your face wasn't supposed to grow this hot...

Seeing that, Satoru celebrated his little win, a wicked smile on his glistening lips—that somehow looked rather attractive to you now. "How? Thinking twice now, are we?"

But he couldn't believe that after all this, you would still cunningly retort with, "Ha! You wish, Gojo Satoru."

His stunned face was so comical that you chuckled once again. You wanted to rebuff him more, but before you could, Haibara's voice called you from a distance. "Heeey! Let's go! Or we're gonna be late!"

"I suppose that's my cue," you lightly shrugged, and before you left him in a dust, you could've sworn you saw a flicker of brewing tantrum behind those glasses, which brought a smirk on your face. "See ya, try harder, and I might look at your way."

Satoru was at his wit's end as he saw you sauntering away. What more that he could do so that you could be his? To keep your eyes on him and him only?

And yet, little did he know, in that beginning of summer in 2006, even before you realized it yourself, you had already did.

Epilogue

In another corner of the school, eagerly spying on you were...

"Wait! Can you even kiss him? What if his cursed spirits suddenly pop out of him? Are you willing to kiss his little friends—"

"Did he just..." Suguru gaped, utterly in disbelief at what his own best friend said of him. "Did he just say that?"

Shoko let out a satisfied guffaw. "Oh, he definitely did."

"I can't believe he's tarnishing my name over a girl."

"Well, you know very well he could do way worse than that just to get what he wants," she threw him a thin smile, while exhaling a puff of smoke. "And hey, you lose. You gotta pay me."

Suguru turned to her in surprise. "Huh? Oh—oh, darn it. Shoko, can't you be less stingy?"

"Well, whose bright idea was it to pull that stunt on him and bet on whether Gojo would approach her in less than a day?"

-> continue to extended cut !

[suskz]

Saw jockchan x nerd reader. I was wondering if you could write something about swim captain Chan x quiet female reader ?

pairing: SwimCaptain!Chan x Quiet!fem!Reader

t/w: smut ; semi-public sex ; secret relationship ; oral (f!rec) ; jealousy ; exhibitionism kink (but no exhibitionism) ; unprotected sex (be smarter, don’t do that).

w/c: around 1,8k

a/n: It’s 1:45 a.m. here, I’m going to sleep now. Hope you like it! ♡

18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

There are 25 minutes left until the end of the training session when you arrive.

"Come see me at training today, it will bring me luck for tomorrow’s championship." This was his sweet request this afternoon, and you naturally said yes; it's just a pity that you arrived an hour late.

Your quick steps to take a seat in the stands can’t be heard by the guys as they talk near the pool, but Chan notices you the moment you enter.

His head turns in your direction and he smiles at you, waving a hand at you. You do the same, returning the greeting.

Immediately, his eyes shift to Changbin and Jisung though, members of the team, who seem to be arguing, and he approaches them.

It doesn’t take you long to understand that they were arguing about who is the fastest swimmer of the two, as shortly after they are giving each other challenging looks as they get into position and enter the water when Chan gives them the signal.

You like seeing him in leader mode in moments like this. It’s extremely hot, but also really cute when he turns in your direction to look at you, shaking his head in exasperation, making you giggle.

But your attention shifts a little further away from you when you hear a girl speaking.

"Did you see him? Now you can’t say he isn’t gorgeous." One of the two girls says to the other.

“He’s freaking perfect, oh my God,” the other girl comments. “What did you say his name was?”

“Bang Chan; I’ll give you his Instagram.”

Your teeth clench at the last sentence. Are they talking about Chan? Your Chan?

The same Chan who kisses, fucks, and cuddles you every day?

You briefly consider letting them know. You should turn to them and tell them to their faces, but there’s something holding you back, keeping you still. And this thing prohibits you from letting them know how things really are, so you sit there in silence, enduring their annoying compliments about him for what feels like endless minutes.

Yes, his body and muscles are stunning. Yes, his voice is sensual and his laugh is sweet. Yes, he has an irresistible gaze. Do they really need to keep repeating that?

When the training ends and you think you’ve finally gotten rid of them, they’re in front of him before you can make a move.

You watch them from afar, standing and waiting, trying to appear as normal and indifferent as possible while they congratulate the captain for his hard work as a leader. Ah, and also for his hard work in the gym.

He chuckles with his dimples showing, first shaking his hands in front of himself in a gesture of denial, but ending up scratching the back of his neck as he thanks them cordially. The two girls look at each other and giggle.

But a few minutes later, it’s you who finds yourself in the locker room with him, his hands on your hips and his lips on yours, feverish and needy.

“Were you jealous?” He grins teasingly, but deep down he feels immense tenderness and perhaps a little embarrassment knowing that you love him so much that you can’t stand other girls complimenting him in that way.

You don’t respond, looking at his bare chest and hoping he’ll stop.

His smile grows, “I saw how you were looking at them, your eyes were burning flames.” He stifles a chuckle as you raise your head with a guilty expression.

“Was I that obvious?” You ask, your cheeks starting to blush, embarrassed by your exaggerated reaction.

“Yes, but I like it.” He leans in to kiss you again, but soon his hands slip under your shirt and you break the kiss.

“Chan, we can’t do this here.” you whisper against his lips. All the other guys from the team are just meters away, taking a shower. You risk being heard, and you don’t want that to happen.

“But I need you now.” he whispers on your neck, starting to leave warm, wet kisses.

You don’t respond, but you tilt your head to give him more space and don’t stop him, and he takes this action as agreement.

He licks and sucks on a patch of your skin, leaving a red mark that will be prominently displayed for days. He might get completely hard just at the thought of you walking around with the mark of his presence on your body, even if others don’t know whose it is.

He pulls away and admires it, then gives it one final kiss, making you hiss from the slight pain.

Needy, his hand grabs yours and pulls you into the bathroom. You don’t resist; you follow him, silent, and together you enter one of the showers, closing the curtain. The one in the corner, with an empty shower next to it.

And then, Chan turns on the water, wetting both of you, although not completely.

“Chan, you finally came in, why did it take you so long?” Changbin yells from a few showers away.

“I just had a moment with Y/n.” Chan responds casually, as if he weren’t currently lowering your shorts and underwear at the same time.

“Oh, she’s already gone?” This time it’s Jisung’s voice.

“Yeah, she went back to the dorm.”

There’s something, something that arouses both of you at the idea that you’re doing something you shouldn’t be doing while his friends are there, just meters away from you, unaware.

His fingers move skilfully between your folds, rubbing your clit with one finger quickly while two of his other fingers hold your pussy lips open as your hips move back and forth instinctively.

When his fingers enter your cunt, they do so easily from how wet you are and from all the times his cock has been inside you.

You take his face in your hands to bring your lips closer to his ear so you can talk to him, “We don’t have time, put it in already.” You whisper, and his cock twitches in the tight shorts he’s wearing, reminding him of how damn tight they feel.

He withdraws his fingers and turns you around, replacing them with his dick, entering you slowly to allow you to more easily suppress any sounds that could be heard by the others.

His hands hold the lower parts of your cheeks to spread them apart to get in deeper as he moves inside you. It’s not the best position, but you can’t bend over because you’d risk slipping.

Your moans are silent. Your heavy breaths are fortunately hard to hear with the shower water running and their voices humming.

Chan tries not to fuck you too hard to avoid the sound of your skins slapping together. Because you’re not alone, and no one must hear you. Even though, maybe, he actually wants someone to hear you. He wants someone to find out about the dirty things you’re doing without their knowledge, right there near them. Maybe he secretly wishes someone would open the shower curtain and see you in this situation.

And maybe you want it too.

But these thoughts don’t stop both of you from freezing at the sudden sound of Hyunjin’s voice. “Does anyone have shower gel?”

His movements pause only for a moment. He should feel embarrassed, mortified to hear his friend’s voice so close to you in such a situation, but instead, it sends a jolt of pleasure to his cock, and he immediately starts moving again.

You look at him with an expression now fearful, but this arouses you as much as it does him.

Jeongin’s voice is quick to respond, “I do, here it is.”

“Thanks Jeonginnie, love you.” Hyunjin thanks him in his sweet voice.

Chan pulls out of you, but before you have time to say anything, he turns you around, grabs your thighs from behind, and lifts you, pushing you against the wall. His arms slide under your knees and spread you open, re-entering you.

“That’s better.” he whispers against your lips, and you nod in agreement with quick breaths.

The pleasure intensifies for both of you. A soft moan escapes his lips, not being able to hold it back, causing him to bite his lower lip and hide his face on your shoulder, his ears turning redder as he failed to contain his pleasure.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling strands, causing his hips to buck up in a harder thrust, making your head slide back against the shower tiles.

It’s at this moment that the others start coming out of the showers, and soon they are out of the locker room after greeting Chan and telling him to hurry up.

When everyone is out, you both look at each other, then chuckle.

“I couldn’t hold back anymore.” you admit.

“Me neither.” he says.

“I noticed.” you tease, and he looks at you with narrowed eyes and furrowed eyebrows in an offended look.

You clench around him on purpose, eliciting a needy moan from his lips. In response, he thrusts into you, and this time it’s you who whines.

“You’re as needy as I am.” he grins, resuming his movements. This time you’re a bit freer to let out your voice, but you need to hurry. His thrusts are faster now, reaching deeper spots inside you, being able to fuck you harder, eliciting a series of staccato moans from you.

“Touch yourself.” he orders and you immediately obey, without needing to be told twice.

His movements become more erratic. He’s close, and you can tell by the way his cock twitches inside you and releases small droplets of pre-cum.

His moans grow deeper, and he closes his eyes, trying to hold back from coming with all the self-control he has to make you reach your climax too, with him. But it’s difficult for him, and soon he has you back on your feet, giving a few final thrusts before pulling out of you and stroking his cock quickly through his orgasm.

He tries not to throw his head back in pleasure, wanting to see the ropes of his hot cum covering your pussy and thighs as you stand there with trembling legs.

Your mind is still fogged with pleasure, and you don’t notice what’s happening until you feel his tongue on your clit, which makes you let out a whimper. You look down to see your boyfriend on his knees with his head between your legs, looking up at you.

You run your fingers through his hair, and he pulls away, “You need to come quickly, someone will be coming for spot checks soon.” He warns you before returning with his tongue between your folds and two fingers inside you, stroking at your sensitive spot.

[ladyrosemone]

Not the chose one

Always the bridesmaid, never the bride.

∗⋅✧⋅∗ ──── ∗⋅✧⋅∗ ──── ∗⋅✧⋅∗∗⋅✧⋅∗ ──── ∗⋅✧⋅∗ ──── ∗⋅✧⋅∗∗⋅✧⋅∗

LADS x No-Mc

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Before all this, you'd never really thought about fate.

You're not someone who believes in coincidences, or past lives, or anything that's fanciful and bordering on insanity, no, you operate like the world does: with proof. If someone says something, you have to prove it to believe it, see it and feel it to know they mean it, and so far, it's worked out wonderfully for you.

A little too well, and the saying goes, too much of anything is bad.

The first was a doctor, you met him at that first aid course your friend taught as part of his internship at a hospital; he was handsome and intelligent, sensible and down-to-earth. The romance was slow but no less passionate, where every detail spoke a thousand words, and the moments together were so special that their absences didn't feel heavy.

Until it wasn't enough because of a new person.

He said she was a childhood friend, then that she was a regular patient (conveniently forgetting that he was the one who took her on as an immediate patient), and then he didn't even deny his feelings for her.

Leaving him was painful but not difficult, life doesn't end because of a broken heart.

But then your savior arrived (literally), a hunter from the Hunters' Association who take care of wanderers saved you from being devoured by one. Meeting him was like unlocking a new character in your life, you'd bump into him in the most random places! And most of the time, he was dozing or on lookout duty. Getting close was easy; letting himself be known was the real challenge; but that never stopped you, and the reward was worth it, love with him felt out of this world, like traveling to another galaxy and shining among the stars.

Until your star turned into a meteor.

You don't believe in divine coincidences, but when he started showing up late, going on more missions with a new partner, and stopping coming to your house to sleep, your instincts (or unresolved trauma) made you aware of the coincidences until he confessed to having an interest in this new hunter, who wanted to set things right. Did it hurt? Like shit, this time something more than your heart was hurt. Your pride, maybe? Well, it was only twice. They say the third time's the charm, right? Let's see if it's true.

The opportunity presented itself at an art gallery; it's not your strongest area, but you don't mind letting new experiences in, especially now that the days have become more bearable after your breakup, which wasn't really because you weren't formally together, the terrible ones almost something.

You didn't expect to meet the artist of all the works on display that night, nor to have offended him with your limited knowledge of art, canvases, and brushstrokes. Luckily, he didn't take it (so) personally, and the night passed with the artist talking about his works while you listened half-heartedly. The dates were quick, loving him was swift, like fire spreading in a forest, fiery and lively, but there were also times when loving him was like floating in the sea, calm and thoughtful, a warm embrace from the tides that lull you to sleep.

Did you forget to never let your guard down on the open sea? Apparently that includes people too.

Suddenly, the fire between you faded, dates weren't frequent, the sea that rocked you now turned into waves that dragged you to the bottom where its light was lost, and the day you feared most (but hoped for) arrived with a text message.

<<"This isn't going to work out">>

That bastard…he really broke up with you via text message, and the worst part was seeing him walking around with a girl in his arms. When you least expected it (and you really didn't expect it), a criminal leader appeared.

Yeah, you didn't even know him first.

It turns out that when a robotic crow lands in your yard, calling animal services doesn't work; luckily, following instructions was never a problem, and with a few YouTube videos, the not-robot-bird worked like a charm. Did you know that crows remember faces and reward those who helped them? Well, you knew when he kept showing up in your neighborhood, attacking squirrels that steal seeds from (real) birds, bringing you precious stones (where does he get that from?!), and even letting you pet him when you came up for air.

That's when two guys showed up at your house "voluntarily" taking you with their boss to area N109. It turns out their boss isn't just any person, he's a CRIMINAL boss, leader of the Onychinus group, who deal in things that are neither legal nor ethical. Having fixed his crow without asking questions or involving the police (animal welfare was an honest mistake) impressed him and made him interested in you. Whether that was good or bad, time will tell.

And the time you spent together was, against all odds, the calmest time you've had in years.

A total gentleman, protective of your safety, treating you equally while also pampering you, intelligent, a provider, the literary trope of "I hate everyone except you" , you enjoyed it very much. After a disastrous love life, it was a sigh of relief to have a man you could see a future with. Even the twins loved you! They were like your younger brothers (if you'd had any).

There are already too many coincidences; at this point, it must be a pattern.

Do you have to guess? The signs were there! As soon as you identified the first sign, you left, you fled, without the strength to endure another <<"This isn't going to work">> or <<"I have feelings for her">> or your favorite! <<"It was always her"> >

You didn't even say goodbye to the twins or the funny crow who would definitely have gone with you if you hadn't installed an update on his hard drive, an app that made his eyes change color like a disco ball.

Love was off the table, dating, men (Ugh!), anything that has to do with dating someone else is out.

Saying it is always easier.

You met the colonel in a park, yes, a park. It turns out you were passing by just getting some fresh air; he was feeling blue, boom! The next thing you know, you're on an unauthorized tour of his ship and then flying through the sky into space.

That's what it felt like to be with him: adrenaline and speed, but also home and strength, a refuge to turn to when memories became heavy and nightmares felt real. They became each other's rock, sharing their fears, their worries, and their sorrows, creating happy memories that would overshadow the bad times.

Why don't you learn? There's even a Greek myth that talks about it, Icarus, remember? Flying too close to the sun will burn you.

- I'm sorry

- I know

You should be used to it, It shouldn't hurt like the first time, you should have expected it, you convince yourself of all this, and yet, as soon as you arrive at your half-empty apartment (because some of your things are at their house), you burst into tears against the front door.

Why does this keep happening? Why are they leaving? Why do you keep letting your heart fall if you already know how it's going to end? Are these clues? Is life trying to tell you that love isn't for you? Are you the woman in the process? If so, it's not fair.

They shouldn't practice on you; they shouldn't talk to you sweetly and make you blush, they shouldn't play with your hair before bed, they shouldn't know your likes and dislikes, they shouldn't know that you don't like pickles because they give you allergies, they shouldn't kiss you, they shouldn't make you feel like the only one because in the end you won't be, you'll be the one with whom they've perfected all that, they'll be the best version of themselves for someone else, someone you were never going to do.

And now you're in your apartment, with the lights off, the moon peeking out as if interested in your pain, crying because another man chose to love another woman over you, because once again you weren't the chosen one, you were the path to the other woman. Once again, you are not the winner.

That's why you don't believe in destiny, or astral coincidences, or soulmates, because in the end, no one can prove to you that they're real. All you have to do is learn from real life, and real life taught you that you won't be enough, that you don't have a destination at the end of the road, or a soulmate across the street, or anything waiting for you on the other side of the world.

It's you, it's only you, and it will always be only you. It's time to realize that and accept it once and for all.

∗⋅✧⋅∗ ──── ∗⋅✧⋅∗ ──── ∗⋅✧⋅∗∗⋅✧⋅∗ ──── ∗⋅✧⋅∗ ──── ∗⋅✧⋅∗∗⋅✧⋅∗

[mangooes]

Won't you quit your work darling?

Sylus Qinche was a man who got what he wanted.

Always.

With his wealth, influence, and terrifying reputation, there was nothing beyond his grasp. Cities bent to his will, his enemies trembled at the mere mention of his name, and the underground empire he built within the N109 Zone was untouchable.

And yet—

There was one thing Sylus could not control.

"Sweetie," he drawled, propping himself lazily against the kitchen counter, watching his wife gather her things for work. "Remind me again why you insist on working a job when I can literally buy the entire company for you."

His wife, buttoning up her crisp blouse, shot him an amused glance. "Because, Sysy, I like my job."

Sylus scowled. "You don’t need it."

"But I want it."

"I’m rich, (Name)."

"I know that, Sylus." She rolled her eyes, grabbing her bag. "We are both rich. You think I don’t have money?"

Sylus huffed, blocking the doorway before she could leave. "That’s not the point. The point is, you don’t have to work."

(Name) smirked, tilting her head, challenging. "Oh really? then tell me why you work, and yet you forbid me to do so."

"That’s different. I run a bussiness, sweetie. You sit in an office and deal with reports."

"Exactly. You do illegal stuff, I do legal stuff. Balance."

"Sweetie." Sylus’s crimson eyes gleamed with determination and admiration. "You could be lounging in luxury instead of wasting your time doing paperwork."

She arched a brow. "And what would I do all day?"

"Be pampered. Spoiled. Worshiped by your beloved devoted husband."

"Sylus, regardless of me working or not, you spoil me everytime, so whats the difference hm?"

Sylus groaned dramatically, dragging a hand down his face. "That’s another problem—"

"Oh no, we are not starting that conversation again." She poked his chest. "Move, darling. I’m going to be late."

Sylus crossed his arms, blocking her path completely. "Hmmm...No."

She sighed. "Sysy—"

"You can’t leave, kitten." He smirked, fully prepared for the counterattack. "You’ll have to get past me."

She stared at him for a moment.

Then, with a sweet, innocent smile—

She grabbed his tie, yanked him down, and kissed him senseless.

Sylus, caught off guard, groaned into the kiss, his hands immediately snapping to her waist, his grip possessive, unwilling to let go.

And that—

Was his mistake.

The second he melted into her touch, She swiftly ducked under his arm, grabbed her bag, and bolted for the door.

"Damn it— (Name)!"

"Love you, I'll be back with takeouts later before dinner!" she called over her shoulder, already gone.

Sylus stood there, stunned.

Then, he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "That woman…"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fifteen minutes later

Sylus sat at the dining table, arms crossed, brows furrowed as Luke and Kieran stood before him, desperately trying not to laugh.

"The missus escaped again, huh, boss?" Kieran smirked.

Sylus shot him a glare. "She always does, my kitten is too smart for me."

"Maybe next time, try not to fall for her kiss trap," Luke chuckled.

Sylus huffed. "It was a cheap shot."

Kieran grinned. "And yet, you fall for it every time."

Sylus groaned, rubbing his temples. "She’s impossible."

Luke nudged Kieran. "How long do you think before he tries again?"

"Three days," Kieran guessed.

Sylus glared at them both. "I will make her quit her work, someday."

Luke and Kieran exchanged a look.

"Sure, boss. Yeah! Goodluck with that.."

Knowing well that before even going to war, sylus had already lost when faced by his adorable wife.

I know i hate work but what if, sylus's wife refused to quit just because she also wants to contribute on making funds for their family (despite sylus having everything-)

[hebezuart]

Dark World designs for the Ghost Cousins, based on a story idea/half AU type deal I've been cooking up! More details under the cut ;)

Basically, after Tenna and MTT get a lot closer in the Light World, Tenna manages to convince him to create his own Dark World. Both because Tenna would really like to be able to interact with MTT properly (not being an inanimate object), but also... maybe Tenna will get to see his friends again. He's loved the companionship MTT has given him, but he can't help but feel like something's missing...

However, upon this Dark World being created, not only does MTT get trapped inside, but his cousins as well. Mads happened to be possessing a Mew Mew doll she'd found (stolen), and ended up entering the Dark World with that form. Blooky stays a ghost, of course. But, with MTT... Tenna, in a desperate attempt to win over more of his favor, pulls some metaphorical strings to have MTT's Dark World form draw from the various designs he's sketched out, buried deep in his closet...

The Dark World they enter, similar to what happens with Susie in Chapter 4, ends up being a... twisted and off-kilter version of TV World. This time, since it takes place inside the Ghost House, more specifically MTT's room, it's much more music themed, given his fascination with music videos. I'll be calling this place MTV World to differentiate.

Here, now that MTT has been given a proper body, Tenna starts bombarding him with a little too much attention. Throwing him in front of a roaring crowd, hot spotlights down on him, everything that he thinks MTT has been yearning for for years now. Which, yes, is technically true... but to be smacked in the face with it so suddenly? It's paralyzingly terrifying for him. He's never felt fear like this before, and can't do anything but freeze up on stage, the audience still raving. He's able to break away and run off stage, but he's verging on a full blown panic attack. Tenna, a little clueless and wanting to keep the crowd loud, simply takes his place on stage as MTT vanishes.

MTT can, to a degree, understand where Tenna is coming from with all of this, but Mads can definitely not. She curses about how they never should have let that thing into their house, to do such a terrible thing to her cousin, and now she wants payback.

...Blooky is along for the ride.

So, the Ghost Gang ventures through MTV World, playing through lots of minigames and music-themed challenges. MTT throughout tries to convince Mads that Tenna didn't mean any harm, but she's really not buying it... she wants to smash his stupid screen in. Blooky's mostly concerned that this might make them late for work tomorrow.

---

Some design notes about each of them:

MTT I struggled with the most, wanting him to look similar but not identical to his Undertale counterpart. His suit is reminiscent of his box form, and I thought he looked very cunty with the Rouge the Bat style boots. His weapon is a polearm, specifically a voulge, striking a perfect balance between 'keeping your distance' and 'getting just close enough to attack'. It's a metaphor for his anxiety and shyness. Super deep, I know.

Mads was honestly pretty easy, I just invoked Surge the Tenrec and a general boxing theme. Her brass knuckle boxing gloves have paw pads on the palms.

Blooky's design is referencing both the top hat they have in Undertale, and when you listen to music with them and trip out into space.

[kiwriteswords]

Florally Inappropriate [Aaron Hotchner x Florist!Reader]

Masterlist [I need to update this, sorry!]|| Ao3||Word Count: 1.3k|| AN: Florist!Reader is making me miss my days as a florist! Tags/Warnings: Female!Reader, Florist!Reader, Non-BAU!Reader, established relationship, secret relationship, flirty!reader, bold!reader, sassy!reader, reader kinda has acts of service/gift-giving love language, sexual theme (if you squint), teasing BAU members, The BAU giving Hotch SHIT. Summary: Aaron Hotchner is not a man who treats himself, but when he begins dating a florist, you make sure he knows what it's like to be doted on...and the team slowly catches on.

Dating Aaron Hotchner had always been quiet by necessity.

Subtle glances. Brushed fingertips. A softness only shared in private.

He didn’t like attention. Didn’t like being fussed over.

But you liked taking care of people. 

And he’d accidentally made the mistake of falling for someone who loved to dote.

So, naturally, you made it your mission to turn him into something he never asked to be:

A flower guy.

Not for others—

He’d already mastered that.

You’d heard all the stories by now: the bouquet traditions with Haley, the subtle elegance he insisted on for gifts, the ways he used flowers like quiet punctuation in the lives of the people he cared about.

But when it came to himself? His own space? His own peace?

Not once.

“A vase of fresh flowers,” you’d said once, teasing him as he stirred sugar into your coffee at your shop. “Just for you. No occasion. No apology. Nothing to prove. Imagine that.”

He had rolled his eyes, but not unkindly.

“Not really my thing.”

You smiled. “That’s what you think.”

So you took it as a challenge.

It started the first time he called you late one night from the tarmac, exhaustion in his voice and a subtle softness you now recognized as I miss you.

“I’ll be home tomorrow,” he said, voice low over the hum of the jet engines. “Can’t wait to see you.”

You hummed a quiet, “I can’t wait to see you too,” already flipping open your planner to jot down the return date.

And then the next morning, with a smirk and a plan, you pulled one of your smaller house arrangements—crisp white anemones, soft lavender sprigs, dusty miller—and walked it over to Quantico. You didn’t even try to get upstairs. You already knew the drill.

Security didn’t question you. 

You were the flower shop girl with the kind eyes and security clearance just shy of trustworthy. They took the vase from you, promised it would be placed on his desk.

The next time, it was something different. Warmer. Whimsical. Ranunculus and chamomile. You tucked in a note that said:  

“Fresh blooms for your fresh start (aka post-case paperwork hell). You’ve got this, Mister Tall-Dark-and-Tired.”

Just your handwriting, which he’d definitely memorized by now.

And it became a ritual.

Every time he let you know he was coming home, you delivered a new arrangement to his office. Always tasteful, always different. Sometimes elegant—simple roses and clean lines. 

Sometimes soft and romantic—pale blush peonies, trailing jasmine, a note that read: 

“For when you miss holding me in your arms. These won’t talk back, but they also don’t smell as good as I do.”

And sometimes just… you.

“Here’s something cheerful in case the world is being insufferable again.”

He’d show up at your door later, late and exhausted, but with that rare smile—

That real one. The one that crackedthrough his armor and made you feel like something inside him had bloomed just for you.

He’d step inside, slide his arms around you, press his mouth to your neck, and murmur, “You really don’t have to keep doing that.”

And you’d say, every time, “I know.”

And then do it again anyway.

Because if anyone deserved a small piece of peace—of beauty—it was Aaron Hotchner.

Even if he’d never pick flowers for himself.

And it started innocently enough.

A vase of flowers on Hotch’s desk wasn’t exactly out of place. He was a thoughtful guy. The team had seen him organize flower deliveries for others before—

Memorials, birthdays, even that one time when Penelope had a “bad vibe” week and he sent her peonies from Gideon.

So when they first noticed a small vase on his desk—a clean arrangement of white tulips and baby’s breath—no one thought much of it.

Until it happened again.

And again.

And again.

Always different flowers. Always perfectly arranged. Always with a small card tucked into the side.

The first time, Emily made a passing comment while grabbing a file. “Nice centerpiece, Hotch. Didn’t peg you for a soft bloom guy.”

He didn’t even look up. “Gift.”

From who? she wanted to ask. But he was already mid-profile, and she figured maybe Jack’s teacher or Jess sent something. Whatever.

But by week four, when another bouquet—this time sunflowers and eucalyptus—appeared in his office with a small envelope and zero explanation, the curiosity officially became a thing.

Morgan was the first one bold enough to poke the bear.

He leaned in Hotch’s doorway, arms crossed. “You, uh…got a secret admirer, or is this part of your new mindfulness routine?”

Hotch didn’t even flinch. “Flowers improve workplace morale.”

Reid, walking past, chimed in without looking up from his tablet: “That’s actually true. Studies show that the presence of plants and flowers can reduce stress and increase productivity in office environments.”

Morgan raised a brow. “So you’re saying Hotch here is just…a flower guy now?”

Hotch flipped a page in his report. “Apparently.”

But it was Penelope who finally cracked the code.

Or, at least, peeked into the vault.

She was walking past his office on her way to the breakroom when the newest delivery caught her eye—

Velvety purple calla lilies and dark greenery. 

Very moody romance vibes. 

She stopped, admired it, and then saw the card tucked in.

And, of course, she read it.

She gasped so dramatically, it startled Reid halfway out of his chair.

“Oh. My. God.”

Morgan leaned over the back of JJ’s desk. “What?”

“Hotch has a lover. A secret lover. A saucy secret lover.”

Reid blinked. “How do you know it’s…saucy?”

Penelope held up the small card like it was evidence in court. “‘If you’re reading this before taking your tie off, just know I’m already thinking about undoing it with my teeth.’”

JJ choked on her coffee.

Morgan barked out a laugh so loud, Hotch’s office door creaked open.

He stepped out, perfectly stoic. “Something wrong?”

Penelope froze, the card still dangling from her fingers like a loaded weapon.

“Nothing!” she squeaked. “Just… admiring your very professional workplace foliage.”

Hotch walked calmly to her, plucked the note from her hands with two fingers, and returned to his office without a word.

Door shut.

Silence.

Then:

“Oh my god,” JJ whispered. “Who is she?”

“She’s bold, that’s for sure,” Emily said, now seated at her desk, clearly invested. “I like her.”

Reid blinked. “He has a…romantic partner?”

“Clearly,” Penelope said, fanning herself. “And clearly, she knows what she’s doing.”

“I bet it’s the cute florist,” Morgan said suddenly. “That case I stayed back for, I saw her delivering something at the receptionist downstairs.”

Everyone turned.

JJ narrowed her eyes. “What florist?” The gears began turning in her head. She’d almost forgotten. 

He shrugged. “You remember a few months ago? You said you set Hotch up with someone to help with a flower arrangement?”

JJ paused. Blinked. “No way.”

Emily’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god, JJ. Did you set him up with a flower shop femme fatale?”

Penelope nodded slowly. “Makes sense. She’s got the access, the handwriting, the aesthetic.”

Reid, slightly concerned: “Should we be… teasing him about this?”

JJ smiled, sipping her coffee. “Only if you want to die.”

Morgan laughed. “You’re just mad you didn’t call it.”

Emily leaned back in her chair. “I’m not saying we stake out the next flower delivery. But I am saying if she starts sending him candles, I need to meet this woman.”

“I knew she’d be good for him,” JJ said with a sigh, wishing she pushed the two of you together sooner. 

Meanwhile, inside his office, Hotch sat at his desk, reading the note again.

His lips twitched just slightly at the corner.

 He didn’t even care they’d seen it.

Because later, when he got home, you would pretend not to know what they were talking about, wrap your arms around him, and ask, “Did my flowers brighten up your scary little office today?”

And he’d murmur against your skin, “They did. But I think your note is what caused the real chaos.”

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @looking1016  @khxna @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @reidfile @bernelflo @lover-of-books-and-tea @frickin-bats @sleepysongbirdsings @justyourusualash @person-005 @iyskgd @hiireadstuff @kcch-ns @alexxavicry @Sweethotchlogy @softtdaisy