#although... pretty similarly obnoxious

[elainemorisi]

genuine curiosity, is there a person on this good green earth who finds a generic "you got this!" to be heartening?

[m4ndysk4nkovich]

why season 4 is actually one of debbie’s best seasons, not her worst.

i feel like when people talk about debbie gallagher, specifically when people who dislike debbie gallagher talk about her, they talk about the change from season 3 to season 4. how she changed from being a sweet innocent kid to a bratty obnoxious teenager. these comments are always so interesting to me because i feel like people’s weird perspectives kind of diminish the purpose of debbie in season 4 which is unfortunate because it really is such a good season for her.

“the change” in question wasn’t really a drastic change at all, her behavior has been basically the same for all eleven seasons. people say her personality changed when in reality, emma kenney changed. season 3 and 4 are supposed to happen very close together, which isn’t realistic considering when they started filming. by season 4, emma and ethan both look much older than they did in the previous season. for ethan, this doesn effect how people like his character because he is both a male and comedic relief, but for emma, this will effect her.

in season 2, debbie acts pretty similarly to how she does in season 4. in both seasons, debbie is obsessed with holly, making boys like her, and looking older than she is. but in season 2, emma kenney’s face is younger, her voice is higher, the clothes she wears don’t fit and the makeup she applies is applied sloppily because she’s so young; she acts cuter. people don’t take debbie trying to act promiscuous in this season seriously because of how little she looks, and two seasons later, the standards don’t seem to apply anymore even though emma kenney is still so young. even if she’s still young, her voice is less squeaky, her body is developing, the clothes fit better, and the makeup is still sloppy but for some reason, it doesn’t make her look as childish. anyone with half a mind can tell she’s a kid trying to look like an adult, yet for some reason, when she does it in this season as a thirteen year old, it’s completely different than when she did it as an eleven year old.

she stops being as cute, and so her personality doesn’t really work. debbie has always been intelligent, extra, sassy, loyal, and desperate for attention. she’s always had a debilitating fear of abandonment and issues with attachment. when you’re babyfaced and a kid, these traits are funny, then she starts to age and these traits aren’t cute, they’re annoying. when debbie kidnaps a baby in season 1 and fiona is asked why, she says, “it’s debbie”, and although debbie has just done something really bad, it being debbie is an explanation and somehow makes the situation better. later on, when she’s still a kid just a little older, if she does something like this, “it’s debbie” is a bad thing.

i think that if people want to go down the path of saying that she majorly changed or had a downfall, they should consider how her trauma actually did effect her around this time because yes, there were a few minor changes in her that are undeniable.

in season 3, she loses the trust of both of her parents. that’s something. she waits for a whole year for frank, setting up some sort of altar for him and praying. when he returns, she tries desperately to get his love and attention like she has been for the whole show, and it ends in him destroying her room and her school project, insulting her while she’s at it. and so, she goes batshit and starts hitting him as hard as she can. ever since season 1, debbie has been dependent on frank’s attention. she knows he’s bad and she knows what’s wrong with him but she doesn’t care as long as she can still find ways to squeeze a bit of love out of him. this is where that stops. this is where she changes some of her morals, because she realizes that her father won’t change and yeah, it does destroy her. then, he calls dcfs on the siblings and gets them separated, and debbie is put all alone in an abusive home. this is obviously going to destroy a girl with severe abandonment issues, not to mention a girl who has never been alone like this before. so when she gets out of that house, obviously she’s gonna be more traumatized. then, when they go to family court, she discovers that monica and fiona saw each other, and she doesn’t want to be their mother anymore. this breaks debbie even more, and she hears frank’s bullshit about how he loves his kids and even though she’s trying to make herself hate him, she still listens to it and testifies with carl. later on, when she’s talking to sheila and taking care of her, it’s revealed that debbie blames herself for monica leaving, and if monica were to return and stay she would forgive her and welcome her with open arms.

^ so with all of that considered, she’s gonna be fucked up. and that’s only part of the reason she acts the way she does. we have her parents absence, but also her older siblings. with her parents out of the way, she becomes more dependent on fiona, but fiona is now constantly at work, leaving them with sheila, and then… well, we all know what happens with fiona in season 4. as for lip, he’s off at college. that’s that. then, ian has run away and all they have is a couple of texts. she’s desperate to get him back but fiona assures her he’s fine, and she doesn’t believe it. so when she and lip go find ian, he’s different. he’s gone. frank and monica were the people she depended on, then they were gone, and now her older siblings, her three constants and role modes, seem to be gone, too.

debbie becomes colder because she is more alone. no parents, no parental figures, she becomes even more independent than she previously was. she decides she doesn’t need anyone. holly and ellie teach her about a new way to get attention, which is using her sexuality, something she never really tried to use for attention because she’s thirteen. she starts sexualizing herself, and holly tells her she likes matty, so she decides she does. and remember how debbie decided she didn’t need anyone to depend on? yeah, bullshit. matty is a new adult in her life and with frank dying, she needs someone for male validation. matty tells her she’s sexy and a great dancer, and he gives her food, lets her sleep in his bed, and gives her the attention she thinks that she needs. she doesn’t realize she’s being groomed, she thinks it’s love. he even promises to have sex with her when she’s 16 and he’s 23 because his main concern is if it’s illegal or not.

in season 4, debbie is left, used, bullied, humiliated, and ruined. she’s a thirteen year old girl, and being thirteen as a girl is rough. her mind is changing, along with her body, her family, her life, everything. debbie historically does horrible with change, it shouldn’t at all be surprising that she acts how she does. what people view as a bitch or a brat is so obviously a hurt, traumatized child and it’s almost disturbing that people don’t seem to see that. i’ve seen debbie mocked for matty, and while in season 5 the situation got worse, she didn’t do anything wrong in season 4. all that she did was have more attitude, but it was clearly a trauma response. debbie was ignored and hurt in season 4, she was a victim. and she was realistic. the change was expected and necessary for her character. case closed.

[sure-i-exist]

Something I find interesting is how the dragon riders and the rest of Berk interact. And my main takeaway? None of them really fit. And they’re only really cared about because of their dragons.

Let’s go through it one-by-one.

Snotlout:

I’m starting with him ‘cause he’s actually what got me thinking. And if you watch the shows it’s obvious he’s not liked much by the general people of Berk. He’s obnoxious, he’s annoying, etc. But what’s interesting is that, out of all the dragon riders, he’s the main one that exemplifies what a “proper Viking” is… and yet he still falls short.

Let me be clear, he’s one of the only ones group who looks most similar to the other people of berk (the other is fishlegs), he has the appearance of a Viking (broad shoulders, stout, muscular). And similarly, he’s the one who acts the most like the others of Berk (boisterous, stubborn, kinda dim at times). But for some reason, he just doesn’t fit in with everyone else, no matter how he tries.

Ruffnut & Tuffnut:

I’m putting them together here because the rest of Berk generally sees them as one duo rather than two people. They’re seen as troublesome, mischievous and a pain to deal with (all undeniably true), which I would assume makes people less comfortable hanging around them. Additionally, these two don’t act or look at all like typical vikings, which I find interesting. They’re both lanky and skinny for the most part, unlike Berk which generally consists of people who’re much bulkier, and they’re just happy to cause trouble. The rest of Berk on the whole seems tired with them. They’re not outcasts, but they don’t quite fit.

Fishlegs:

Now, Fishlegs, like Snotlout and indeed moreso than him, looks pretty like the rest of Berk, like a “classic” Viking. But his personality is what singles him out. In his case, although people respect his intelligence they tend not to respect him as an individual since he doesn’t care so much for fighting or stubbornness (in Big Man on Berk we see the rest of Berk liking him much more as Thor Bonecrusher and when he returns to himself they’re disappointed). I almost feel like people would see Fishlegs as more of a disappointment than the others because he could be a great “proper Viking” with his strength and size, but because that’s just not who he is as a person he’s more content for the quieter things in life and typically doesn’t see the point in trying to change himself (with some exceptions to this, of course)

Astrid:

Astrid both before and after the first film is seen pretty positively - she’s courageous and stubborn and fights for what she believes and can sometimes be a bit rude but that’s alright. Really, the main differences between her and the rest of Berk is solely in her appearance - she’s thin and small (“small” comparatively to the rest of Berk and even the other dragon riders to an extent as the series goes on), and of course theres a reason for this in simply that Dreamworks would not have a big girl as the love interest/one of the main characters (and here when I say “big” I mean either fat or muscular or both, cause none of it was gonna happen unfortunately). Overall, Astrid is the least out-of-place compared to the rest of Berk, to the point where I will gladly say that in canon she is just straight up the only one who really fits, but I do have my own headcanons against that.

Hiccup:

Hiccup is the most obvious one that doesn’t fit, hence why I left him for last. In the first film he doesn’t fit at all, in riders/defenders of Berk he’s growing into his place and Berk is growing into him. By the time or rtte or the second film he’s well-established as his person and his worth, but he still has that history of not fitting for most of his life, and realistically there’s still that underlying feeling of his difference.

So, I’ve gone through all of them individually. Now, what do I mean that they’re only cared about for their dragons?

Well, once again I can go one-by-one.

Hiccup: I’ll be real, he’s cared about for more than just him bringing about the dragons (just think about his inventions for one other thing). But the main thing? Bringing the dragons. People love him for that

Astrid: She created the A-Team. I think people would care a lot about that. Like Hiccup, she’s one who is actually cared for more than just her dragon-riding.

Fishlegs: Here’s where things actually get relevant. We’ve already established people cared more for him as Thor Bonecrusher than who he actually is. Just Fishlegs tho? Well, he’s useful for his dragon knowledge. And that’s kinda it in terms of how Berk as a collective views him

Ruffnut & Tuffnut: Tbh I think people would hate that they’ve got a Zippleback of all dragons, just for the sheer chaos, but in general? Dragon riding itself is respected, making the twins respected (to an extent) for being dragon riders.

Snotlout: Same deal as the twins really, the people hate he’s got a monstrous nightmare because fire hazard + Snotlout = bad news. But again, he is a proficient dragon rider, and that earns him some level of respect. The only thing that gains him respect or admiration.

So, that’s it really. While typing this out I think I realised that while Astrid and Hiccup are respected for themselves and fit (although imperfectly) in Berk by the end of rtte, but it’s the others (fishlegs, Snotlout and the twins) who just simply aren’t. Which wasn’t my original point but it still kinda works

[cantsayidont]

Some more dubious TV:

GRISELDA: Griselda Blanco, la padrina de cocaína in early '80s Miami, gets the #girlboss treatment in this six-part miniseries starring Sofía Vergara. Writers Doug Miro and Ingrid Escajeda seem to have made a close study of the 2007 film AMERICAN GANGSTER, about Frank Lucas, which is similarly structured and has a similar abundance of period detail that never feels organic or authentic. If you know anything at all about the real Griselda Blanco, it also feels pretty sanitized, and of course prettified. For contrast, there's also a 2017 Lifetime movie called COCAINE GODMOTHER, starring, improbably, Catherine-Zeta Jones, which is much more tabloid-lurid, although calling Jones' performance and accent "a broad caricature" would be giving it more credit than it deserves. Curiously, the Lifetime version is much more upfront about presenting Griselda as bisexual: Both it and the new mini indicate that Blanco's bestie, who eventually died of a drug overdose (called Carolina in the 2017 version, Carmen in the new one), was in love with her, but the new version is weirdly noncommittal about Griselda herself. Pondering the behind-the-scenes politics of that is honestly more interesting than much of what's onscreen.

MASTERS OF THE AIR: Lugubrious Apple TV+ miniseries about the USAAF 100th Bomb Group of WW2, based on the nonfiction book by Donald L. Miller and produced by Steven Spielberg, Tom Hanks, and Gary Goetzman, obviously keen to recapture the success of BAND OF BROTHERS. A heavy-handed and often tedious propaganda piece, MASTERS is basically a long-form modern version of WW2 movies like AIR FORCE or THIRTY SECONDS OVER TOKYO, full of contrived patriotic uplift (inevitably underlined by obnoxiously syrupy orchestral scoring), lots of CGI (most of which looks like a video game), and a few more naughty words than the 1940s Production Code would have allowed. The promos suggested the show would deal with the experience of Black fighter escort pilots, which could have had some interest (especially since the 2012 movie RED TAILS did such a disastrous job of it), but the handful of Black characters don't appear until the eighth episode, and they're much more thinly drawn than the white officers who comprise the core cast. Most of the main characters are theoretically based on real people (who are shown in a brief coda in the final episode), but the show's dramatization is much less effective than a decent documentary treatment would have been, particularly since it's already reliant on sleepy voiceover narration to hold together its disparate story threads. The main consolation is that there’s a refreshing lack of distracting stunt casting; I didn’t recognize anyone in the cast, which is for the best with this kind of thing. A show for your dad or grandpa who only watches WW2 documentaries.

STAR TREK: PRODIGY: I only barely struggled through the first four five episodes of this animated STAR TREK spinoff, and the kindest thing I can say about it is that I'm not even remotely adjacent to the target audience. The animation and character designs caused me physical pain, and overall it feels like what we would get all the time if STAR TREK became another of the many properties absorbed by the evil power of the Mouse. One shudders to think.

[ashperiences]

Meant for this to just be part of talking about the first game but didn't realise how much I'd go on lol

Didn't like this one as much, on paper most things sound better and I liked a lot of those ideas but I left without much of a real impression left on me.

The stratums never really ended up feeling like a place to me, I got a little shot of excitement going into the airship but it ultimately just felt like a big bunch of yellow corridors with a knock off version of the previous final boss. The areas could be really pretty and I liked some of the level design and the bringing a specific class gimmicks that unfortunately feel more fun of an idea than actually evocative but oh well.

Therein lies a big problem I had with this, the gameplay mostly turns into spamming big damage, the enemies and levels can get really obnoxious in response and the quests routinely become pains in the ass even as they build some genuinely endearing steps and events in them that make them more than just go to A or collect 6 of B (loved the one that made me mad that finding a guy to deliver a thing to relied on an rng roll to check if he runs away over and over owning me by having the guy eventually be like why the hell are you chasing me who are you though).

I like all these ideas it has, getting to know people in town better, weird FOE gimmicks and all but a lot of the quiet imaginative space is lost, I didn't really wonder about my party, the npcs were more fleshed out and likeable but they weren't really memorable enough to make up for feeling like just some decently entertaining guys in some dlc pack levels.

So much is hampered by relation to the first game, class design is heavily built around nerfing old strategies and over empowering other ones, the story has the same structure but less interesting as an attempt at playing the hits again, we got bird people again but they're magical helpful natives now. It's all just kind of uncomplicated heroics where your attack goes up and eventually you beat up god who is mean and make friends with everyone.

Its fun enough though although similarly the gameplay made it hard to distinguish any real sense of character between my variety of big numbers damage guys. The new class concepts are fun but not tremendously well implemented and the reuse of old classes doesn't help the stale feeling.

I can't stop complaining about it but whenever I think about parts of it I think of them fondly anyway, its not charmless it's just, it's overshadowed and directionless, everything you like feels nice but overtime it kind of just eats away at itself until its a town of slightly charming people and their heroes in a world that just feels built for purpose. I can barely remember any of the actual exploring.

If etrian odyssey 1 ends with your party literally going to hell this one feels like a conscious attempt at crafting explorer heaven - nothing complicates your role, doing big damage almost always wins, everyone ends up loving you and you can live forever as a cool sword guy (suppose there's a fun little thing to think about on context of the villain speech there actually).

I think you can summarise this game with two things:

1. The pathways only open to certain classes that just give you an rpg narration of your guy doing some cool stuff that repeats exactly the same the next time you find one without any of the environment reflecting it and usually organised into some weird box room with multiple class paths like you've found some side mission level select.

2. The way the gunner just inherits a strong move from the now decimated survivalist and also functions as a superior alchemist, the way the war magus can awkwardly remove any mp consideration or how the hexer can just turn hp loss into practically instant killing everything. The game gets flattened under this stuff to the point that the struggle of it all ceases to feel real, no monster is a real threat except by just doing something annoying, every boss gets steamrolled and as if representing the shift in genre the survivalist ends up with practically no purpose.

It was fun while it lasted for sure but also super annoying and I spent most of it thinking about my previous party and looking back on it all I can imagine my party as is an endless succession of multi attack skills.

A true dlc side story 6/10 where you go oh that's a nice idea I guess oh that's a funny guy they put in here and then evaporates.

[thedreadvampy]

Watched the new season of Black Mirror and like. I'm pretty meh on Black Mirror generally, I think it's overall good but not great

less cause it's wanky or fire-bad-Thomas-Edison-witch (I don't think it is either of those things and I think short film is the right format for speculative fiction and works really well, plus I'm always a slut for speculative fiction or horror anthologies) and more cause it's often a bit obvious and also I find the self conscious universe building a bit cringe (short stories can be standalone short stories! overarching narratives or crossovers are not necessary!)

but I gotta say off the back of the new series I really think the further away it gets from sci-fi the more I like it. mazey day was ok with a solid twist, loch henry was really effective and I truly found demon 79 really delightful (although that's like 90% cause I just think Anjana Vasan is such a great presence, loved her in We Are Lady Parts too).

whereas the most sci-fi one, the astronaut one, felt kind of stale and unfinished to me, like I knew from about 10 minutes in where every beat of the story was going, and it kept feeling like it wanted to say something about trad families or about fridging women or about trauma or about like. anything. but nah it was just exactly what it looked like, it was a mid 60s-style sci-fi/horror. it read like a Dick story and there clearly was some satirical intent there in the idea that both men were misogynistic and abusive in similarly veiled ways, but like. didn't go anywhere did it? still ended up fridging the women and framing the men as victims of their own brutality and if your story beat for beat could have been written 60 years ago, it's not exactly effective modern satire, is it?

the opener for the season was fine. fun. very classic-mode Black Mirror. I liked what it was doing but it was another one which felt slightly undercooked, like it had a lot of good ingredients but a lot of the episode was just treading water. it was a fun caper if a little cringe at times.

but yeah the non-scifi episodes worked a lot better for me. Demon 79 feels very Asimov but, unlike Beyond The Sea, it didn't feel outdated - it's got a really nice central conceit, engaging characters and it's constructed really well for me, plus the performances and aesthetics were strong. Mazey Day was simple but effective, really clear about its intents and again with some really engaging, fun performances. Loch Henry was just a good tight thriller with again some clear ideas to convey which I thought were on the nose but not obnoxious.

I think that there are some really strong Black Mirror episodes - 15 Million Merits, White Bear, Men Against Fire, Hang The DJ - and the common thread for the ones that work for me is that they have a really tight central concept and a strong idea of what the question they want to ask is. and tbh I think this is the strongest season because only one episode was actively cringe for me and there were 3 really tight ones. To me where the show consistently falls down is that it gets too invested in the Black Mirror Expanded Universe and the idea of what the show is 'meant' to be. Almost all the weakest episodes start with an on-the-nose piece of technology and end with 'hey if that happened would that be fucked up or what?'

I reckon that this season Brooker's been quite actively trying to get off the hook of 'Black Mirror Is About Phone Scary' and it's by a long way an improvement cause freed of the need to in any way shoehorn in a central technology the show's got solid space to find new core concepts and new ideas instead of 'what if there's a 15th fucked up thing you could do with memory recordings or perfect AI personality clones?'

like black mirror's always mostly been interested in a few core themes - voyeurism and panoptica, paranoia, self-perfection and performance, and what it takes to push people towards violence and when that's justified. a lot of the time the devotion to telling that through a really specific near-future sci-fi lens has been a bit of a millstone around its neck. this works better.

[jasonsutekh]

Tales From the Crypt 1: Demon Knight (1995), 2: Bordello of Blood (1996), and 3: Ritual (2002)

Supernatural occurrences affect random people, relating to demonic entities, vampires, and voodoo curses.

The better ones are probably Ritual and Demon Knight since they are the most coherent as stories and have some interesting lore behind them. There was also something of a twist to the third one and the first had its moments because it was isolated; interestingly both movies involved secret tunnels.

Bordello of Blood is the least favourite since it has the highest amount of obnoxious or dislikeable characters and it didn’t really introduce much different from the basic vampire stories. There are supposedly references to the television series for the fans that watched at the time although you don't need to have seen it for the films.

Some of the effects are fairly decent considering much of the story doesn’t take itself too seriously and it uses mainly practical effects and some stop-motion animation on occasion which also has its charm. There are some good cameos from recognisable actors and some even get some substantial roles.

Even though it’s the framing device that ties the franchise together, the weakest part is the crypt keeper parts which are mostly odd, contain some pretty basic jokes, and in the third one some unfortunate racial stereotyping. The third film, while good, is also rather heavy on the sexual objectification.

Demon Knight: 4/10 -It’s below average, but only just!-

Bordello of Blood: 3/10 -This one’s bad but it’s got some good in it, just there-

Ritual: 4/10 -It’s below average, but only just!-

-The green slime in the first movie was made from the inside of glowsticks.

-A poster for the first movie is seen in the second film, in Caleb’s bedroom, similarly he is seen to have a crypt keeper tattoo at one point.

[jihyuncompass]

How They Were in School

More than one headcanons set a month? Who am I

Rich kid, obviously. 

Although he was rich and everyone knew it, he also wasn’t the type to brag about his wealth or his family’s status in school. At least not intentionally. 

Sometimes he’d make a comment purely out of ignorance. No harm intended, but still enough to make people roll their eyes at him and groan. 

“What do you mean you don’t have a driver? How do you get to school?” 

The bus Marius. The bus. Like a good chunk of students do. 

“Oh I didn’t realize people actually rode those here!” 

Despite his occasional ignorant comment Marius was actually fairly popular with the other students when he was in school. 

Of course his family’s status and wealth had some part to play in why he was so popular, but ultimately a lot of it came down to him just being a good guy and charming by nature. 

Marius is very inherently kind, even if he can come off a bit obnoxious. 

(Well maybe a little more than a bit)

But you can’t deny he has a good heart and all the best intentions. 

Of course, Marius was also very popular for his looks. He isn’t blind to his own charms and appearance and neither were his classmates. Marius’ winning smile and flirtatious remarks got him many secret admirers in his school years. 

Not a valentine’s gone by where his locker wasn’t filled with cards from his admirers. Even if he never really entertained the idea of being in a relationship too much. 

As much as many would assume he’d run for class president Marius actually wasn’t the type to seek out that kind of attention or position.  

In fact, Marius was far more content sitting in the corner of the art classroom, pouring over his next piece. Learning new art mediums and experimenting with different forms. Taking as many art classes as he could and trying to push aside the business/marketing courses his councilors and family tried to push him into.

He was very popular with the art teachers. Which meant he got a lot of extra privileges. 

Graduated with a 3.9 GPA. While he generally did very well, he ain't perfect. But then again, grades don’t matter when you’re a von Hagen.

Right? 

Okay so in canon Vyn was most likely taught by private tutors instead of actually going to a general public or private school considering he’s like. Basically royalty but let’s just pretend here alright. 

In school Vyn was known for being an exceptional student.

Perfect grades, All AP/IB courses, that kind of deal. 

He’s that kid that everyone knows is gonna end up going to one of those incredibly well revered Ivy League schools, where he would also end up doing exceptionally well. 

Socially Vyn is decently popular. He’s liked well enough by most people and not many people really find issues with him. However Vyn is also almost always primarily focused on his academics, so he’s probably not one to really try and be popular in the first place. 

Vyn is also well known for being a tutor to a lot of other students. It wasn’t uncommon for teachers to ask Vyn to help tutor struggling students, if not having students reach out to him first. 

Vyn is actually a really great tutor though. He very clearly knows and understands his material and is actually pretty decent at teaching it to others. 

He’s also a pretty great tutor too. Similarly to how he is as a professor, he has his expectations but isn’t overly strict or harsh. He’s a much more encouraging teacher than anything else. 

Anyone who went to school with him could probably tell that he was going to become some kind of educator. Although his choice of psychiatry might have been a little more of a surprise. 

Most people probably would have pegged him for something more… politically motivated considering his family. But as we know, that was never quite Vyn’s style. 

Graduates with a perfect GPA. Was absolutely the Valedictorian for his class and gave an extremely inspiring speech that most of his classmates still remember years later. 

Regardless of if he’d admit or not Artem was a huge nerd in school. 

He wasn’t incredibly popular but everyone who did know him liked him a lot. Artem is a pretty easy person to like and get along with in general. 

However, even for all that friendliness and charm he does have, Artem is also almost painfully oblivious to most people's attempts at advances towards him. 

It’s not that he was uninterested in people finding him attractive or desirable, he’s just got the kind of person who’s gonna notice it. 

You could probably walk up to him and straight up tell him that you find him handsome and ask him out on a date and he’d likely just assume you’re being friendly and trying to befriend him. 

We love him for that though. 

Academically he does very well, not quite Vyn levels of perfect academics but he does well in his courses. Even if they aren’t all APs or honors courses. 

Artem finds himself drawn towards the political science and history courses. After all, with two parents in the legal field he can’t help but have an interest. 

Artem is also a debate club champion. Just as he’s known for his success in the courtroom his school years were remembered for his success in the debate club. You could give him any subject or stance and he’d be able to make an incredibly successful argument. 

However, despite loving those political science courses and government classes. The place where Artem finds himself truly happy is in his time as President of the film club. 

The club wasn’t immensely popular at his school, but popular enough that once a week he and a few other students would get together to watch films and discuss them. It’s a big part of where his love of film and movies started. Even if most people had no idea. 

When he graduated, he was absolutely one of the honor students. Even if not valedictorian. However, no one would deny that Artem had some really good things in his future. Especially as he headed towards his Law degree. 

Luke wasn’t really all that popular. 

Although he wasn’t unpopular either? 

Honestly Luke wasn’t and has never been the type to really care all that much about that kind of thing. Popularity isn’t a huge thing for him. 

The popularity he does have though, comes from his good natured personality. 

Luke’s a good person, that has never been a point of debate. He’d be the type to pick up the book you accidentally dropped, or walk you to the school nurse if you felt unwell and so on. 

While Luke is generally very outgoing with others he can sometimes come off as rather reserved when it comes to talking about himself. He doesn’t talk a whole lot about himself to others and would much prefer to listen and help other people. 

As a result, while he is well liked by many of his peers, most people don’t actually know a whole lot about him as a person. They know he’s kind, and that he genuinely wants to help others, but that’s the bulk of what most people know. 

Luke’s a good student, although he wouldn’t be the type to brag about being on the honor roll or getting an A on his final exams. He does well while keeping himself humble. 

He’s also very well liked by the staff at the school. Luke is the kind of person that would never dare to be rude or disrespectful to the staff, which earns him a lot of extra points. 

Luke is the student who knows every janitor’s name and asks about their day. He’s good friends with the lunch servers and always gets a little extra food as a result. He’s well loved by the librarian and always has first dibs on any new mystery novel that is put on the shelf. 

Luke doesn’t get to graduate with the rest of his class. Before he could even graduate he was off to study at university. One day he’s in class and the next day he’s up and gone away. 

Some people forget about him, they remember the kind boy who helped them out once or sat in their classes, but his name is forgotten by some. But for others who he was very kind towards, a hope for his success never ceased.

[bibbykins]

Double Date

A/N: Hello my dears! I'm not done with the Jin and/or Hobi confession yet but I did write this little flashback last week and think I'm finally ready to post it! This is the situation in which Jimin discovered MC's reaction to yelling, just to clarify. As always, please hop into my ask box and give me some of that lovely feedback!

Note: This is a flashback as part of the drabble series The Household's Bunny, which I recommend reading the installments of prior to this one

Word Count: 4.2k

Pairing: Soft Yandere! Jimin x Chubby! Reader

Warnings: Lying, fatphobia, usage of the word "fat" as an insult, talks of sex, yelling, vomiting, implied previous trauma, bad friend, loser date, verbal argument, implied stalking, yandereish behavior

Summary: On a double date was not how Jimin imagined your first date with him going. Let alone, a double date in which you both are with someone else. The torture of sitting next to his ex and watching you with another man was well worth it to see you up close. He could only hope you and his "date" don't mind his blatant staring at you.

Jimin often wondered how he ended up so stupid sometimes. From prodigy orphan to absolute idiot. It was a little tragic. Here you were, back from the hospital, a smile on your face, sitting across the table from him… and he was on a date with your friend Yoora.

Sure, Yoora was fine, but she wasn’t you. That’s why they had broken up in the first place. He just… didn’t like her. Of course, he omitted the fact was that he liked someone else.

You, on the other hand, were on a date with some lowlife he hadn’t even bothered to remember the name of. Yoora had begged Jimin to go on a date, to which he vehemently denied. He had dated Yoora and things fizzled out quickly, so he saw no value in going on a date again. He only budged with her begging when she said it was for you, who was apparently too nervous to be on a date alone with this other guy. He sprung at the chance to see you outside of class, something he could only hope Yoora didn’t notice. Although, Jimin couldn’t help but wonder why you would go on a date with someone you weren’t comfortable being alone with, but maybe he was just bitter you were going on a date with someone that wasn’t him.

You flashed Jimin a brief smile in between your chat with Yoora, making his mind go blank. Fuck, you were so pretty. You wore a simple white turtleneck with a brown plaid skirt and brown loafers with white socks to match. You looked unbelievably cute, even against the aged neon fabric of the chairs at the bowling alley. Not that your date appreciated just how divine you looked, hardly paying you any mind, instead looking around constantly and only really responding to Yoora.

Not that Jimin was being much better to Yoora. His eyes were constantly fixated on you, but both you and Jimin unaware of this blatant fact. He hadn’t been this close to you outside of the classroom in… well, basically ever. He watched with hearts in his eyes as you bowled your second gutter ball. He laughed as you bowed cheekily before returning to the table right as your date went to bowl.

“I’m so full!” Yoora exclaimed as you sat back down, the pizza you both agreed to share only having two slices out of it as you reached to make it a third, “I don’t know how you can eat more than one slice, y/n! Good for you.” She giggled obnoxiously as your moves faltered in setting the pizza on your plate.

Jimin’s eyes landed on Yoora’s form for the first time in the whole night with a displeased look. Her form shrunk under his sharp glare and any future taunts she had planned died on her tongue as you searched for the words to say, “She’s just keeping herself nourished for me, aren’t you babe?” Your date spoke with a slimy voice as he slid in the booth next to you and Jimin watched confusion fill your face. Jimin’s smile noticeably dropped.

"It's a little silly to imagine everything she does is for you, no?" Jimin gave your date a pointed look, all with a smile on his face, as your date also shrunk, nodding awkwardly.

The most input your date ever gave to you directly was about how hot you were or to chide at your poor bowling skills. It was a little painful watching your smile fade throughout the date, and Yoora joining in to try and make you feel even worse wasn’t helping. Jimin couldn't imagine a scenario in which any of this would make you happy, and he just couldn't hold his tongue the entire time.

“I’m just hungry.” You shrugged, figuring Jimin was just being a gentleman in lightly scolding Jihoon, “I eat when I’m hungry, hence the pizza.” You spoke simply as you took another bite. You knew what Yoora was doing. Passive-aggressive slights to your weight in front of romantic partners were not shocking to you in the slightest.

This was why you didn’t want to go on a double date with Yoora. Sometimes she was nice and funny, but other times she was like a mean girl straight out of a teen movie. This was why you considered Yoora more acquaintance than a friend since she only talked to you when she had no other friends around. This dynamic was fine enough since you hadn’t made any friends in college, so having someone to interact with was nice enough, but you drew the line at her getting this intimately involved. However, she insisted she should bring herself and Jimin along for your safety. You had joked you’d like to see Jihoon try to carry you away to kidnap you, but she didn’t laugh.

It was ironic that your weight was only funny when she was making the joke.

Yoora shrunk a bit as she watched a smile grace Jimin’s features again while you ate, “I’m gonna use the bathroom.” She spoke hurriedly out of nowhere and you gave her a small wave.

Your date resumed his survey of the building before his eyes caught sight of something and went wide, “Shit, a friend from my bio lab is here.” He murmured quite loudly before turning to you, “I’ll be right back.” He spoke in a similarly rushed tone as he made a bee-line to the restroom.

You gave Jihoon a weak smile, waving him away when you realized he didn’t even look at you for a response before getting up. Well, there goes another liar. Last night it was, “Baby, you’re so beautiful. I could see myself marrying you. Let me take you on a date and then we can come back to my place and seal the deal.” You were no longer so naive as to think a simple handjob would make Jihoon a romantic, but you did hope it would be enough motivation for him to reciprocate with skill. You hated liars, especially liars who do it to get into your bed. On top of that a horny liar with no skill.

Jimin noticed your date dodge the line of vision of his friend and sneak to the bathrooms and frowned, “Why is he going to the bathroom if his friend is right there?” He mused to himself.

“To hide.” You sighed, making Jimin jump, shocked you heard him. You looked up and saw his confusion before sighing, “He doesn’t want to be seen with me, so he’s going to the bathroom.”

Still short-circuiting from the direct eye contact he was making with you, he sputtered, “Wha- Why would-”

“Look at me.” You poked the sliver stomach between the hem of your top and the top of your skirt. Jimin admired the plush skin before snapping himself from the trance.

He shrugged, “I am, and it makes even less sense.” He finally had the determination to hold eye contact with you without his mind going into overdrive and right as you opened your mouth to respond, your phone vibrated.

You looked down at it with a frown, “Yoora wants me to meet her outside.” You mumbled, before looking up at Jimin, “I don’t think I was supposed to say that to you.” You looked at him with a sorry look, “I’ll be back.”

You pushed the front doors open to see Yoora standing with her arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently as she looked around, as if she didn’t send you the text message a mere minute ago. She caught sight of you and her eyes went wide before settling into a smug gaze, “Ah, there you are!” She smiled and it was sickly sweet, “I wanted to tell you Jihoon and I are leaving.”

Ah, she must have been looking around for his car to come around. Well, that’s saving you the awkward conversation of rejecting him, so you shrugged, “Okay.”

Evidently not wanting the nonchalant reaction you gave her she scoffed, “Seriously? You have nothing to say?” For some reason, Yoora would sometimes make it her mission to push your buttons, usually, this was by making you flustered, so you’re not sure what happened to spur on such unadulterated malice.

However, you didn’t really have the energy to dissect it so you shrugged a little more incredulously, “What is there to say? No?” You scoffed, “You guys are consenting adults, you both made a choice-”

“God, you’re so annoying!” Her increase in volume made you jump and also caught the eyes of fellow students and unaffiliated customers just trying to have a night out.

Nevertheless, you blinked wildly, “Me?!” You guffawed, “You’re the one that brought me out here to tell me you’re ditching me and your date?” The whole thing felt so ridiculous.

“Yes, you!” Her hands gestured to you wildly, “My date is oogling you and so I decide to seduce yours and you just say ‘okay’?!” Her volume was increasing and you could feel a familiar nausea pooling in your stomach, “Let me be pissed at you for stealing my date!”

“It’s not my fault I’m hot, nor does that make you less hot.” You countered, not really believing it was you Jimin was interested in, but more so Yoora he wasn’t interested in, “He just doesn’t like you. You said you knew that.” You pointed out, making her falter because you were right. Yoora told you Jimin wasn’t interested in her but she was trying to change that despite your words of caution.

“You? Hot? You’re fat!” Ah, there it was. She was evidently running out of sound reasons to be mad at you but was still not ready to just face the fact that she felt shitty her date looked at the fat girl more than he looked at her.

You couldn’t contain your laugh, “Oh, no shit? I am?” You mockingly looked down at your form, which only seemed to fan the flames.

“Just get fucking mad at me!” She shouted, wiping the smile off of your face

You sucked your teeth, “Stop yelling. You know that yelling makes me-”

She rolled her eyes before losing her mind, “What do I know about you?! You won’t even tell me why you were in the hospital-”

Now you were getting really queasy and annoyed, wanting this to end because at this point she was just yelling at you to feel like less of an asshole, “Because you’ll just tell everyone, and it’s not their business- or yours for that matter!” You felt a little bad criticizing her gossipy nature, but you knew you were going to puke any minute now.

“I’m your friend!” She spat, ironically, in a rather unfriendly manner

You scoffed, “You’re going home with my date!”

This seemed to catch her off guard, almost, almost, making her realize she was simply being an asshole, but she stuck to her guns, “He-He doesn’t even like you!”

“And yet, if we’re such good friends, you’re still going home with him to what? Prove a point to me?!” You were exasperated as you heard his obnoxious car pull up behind you, “I know now he doesn’t like me, that’s what the date was for!” You were beyond tired as you watched her eyes dart between you and the red Mustang, “But now I know that you don’t really like me either.” You sighed and this made her sight settle on your form, her gaze significantly softer.

“Y/n…” Her voice was lower, surrendering.

“It’s fine. You’re not required to like me.” You insisted, “I just wish you wouldn’t lie about it.” This time, you felt a little hurt at your own words, but the bile in your throat wouldn’t give you much time to reflect on it, especially as Jihoon honked his horn, like the gentleman he was, “Well? Go on.” You gestured to the obnoxious car as Yoora got in with her head down.

Not even bothering to wait for them to drive away, you ran to the alley on the side of the building with a hand clasped over your mouth. The moment you made it to the dim-lit hallway of brick, you puked your guts out. The bile burned your throat, but you could still feel a careful hand pulling your hair back ever so gently as another hesitantly rubbed your back. The touch was calming and void of judgment. You figured someone assumed you were drunk and was used to being a hero. However, when you were finally done and stood up, you were faced with the most sought-after man of the Arts department.

“Are you… okay?” Was the first thing that came out of his mouth and you had no real energy to be all that embarrassed. Vomiting took all the life out of you almost every time.

You simply turned back to look at the mess you made and cringed, “Oh shit.” You spoke slowly, “I should clean that up.” You sputtered.

Jimin merely smiled and shook his head as you turned back to him, “It’s an alleyway, come on, someone will just make a worse mess in an hour.” He handed you a water bottle, “Go ahead and rinse.” You looked at him with pleading eyes, his looks were more than enough to make you feel flustered. He seemed to read your eyes as he turned around.

“Thanks.” You spoke up after you rinsed, “But-”

“Let me drive you home.” He waited to hear your footsteps behind him before pressing onward.

He ignored your protests the whole way to his car, brushing them off with a wave of his hands. You had figured it was just him being cool, but the reality was that he was mentally hyping himself up. Now with his anger at Yoora and your date dissipated, he was back to a bumbling mess when it came to you, even if the nagging worry of what could have happened to you to make you throw up at yelling was an ever-present weight he took on his shoulders. The girl of his dream would be in his car, sitting right next to him, and that was enough to make him short-circuit. His face was getting redder and redder just thinking about it. Not that your polite and melodic voice insisting you can just take the bus helped any. Surely you had to know how beautiful you were? He never doubted you knew until today, and the notion made him frown but also, thankfully, calm down.

By the time he opened the door for you, any hints of redness on his face were obscured by the cloak of night over the sky and the dim street lamps. You gave him a short smile and he had to fight a squeal in his throat. Instead, you were met with a strained look, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he even liked you or if he was just being kind. You entered your address on his phone and he feigned looking at the route as if he wasn't familiar with the area. He then texted one of his housemates a name and a license plate number for information and wordlessly began driving.

You simply looked out the window as he seemingly studied his phone, not wanting to make his possible dislike of you worse. Although, you would prefer him not to like you at this point. You were kind of over people “liking” you by now. Jihoon had done no less than confess his undying love for you mid-orgasm and you were ashamed to admit how excited that had made you feel despite the emptiness that could be felt in the air. You had convinced yourself that could just be how love felt. How would you know any otherwise? Part of you knew you were deluding yourself, even if you would never know what love felt like, you knew it wouldn’t feel like that. It wouldn’t feel like the bittersweet taste of settling for less than you deserve in exchange for an escape from the all-consuming loneliness that surrounded you no matter who you hooked up with.

“I’m, uh, sorry Yoora did that to you. Jimin blurted out, making you look to him and making him clench the wheel.

“It’s not your fault.” You reassured him, “The whole point of the date was to see if this guy actually ‘loved’ me, or even liked me for that matter.” You couldn’t stop yourself from talking, “That post nut clarity must have made him realize he’s a huge liar.” You couldn’t hide the bitterness in your words before you took a breath, “So, how much did you hear?”

“I walked out when I heard her calling you fat.” He stumbled against the words, clearly uncomfortable even repeating Yoora.

You hummed, “Yeah, well, I guess you’re all caught up.” You looked back out the window and Jimin could relax ever so slightly, “I don’t know how I can make her feel threatened. She’s so… loveable.” He frowned at this, “I know I’m pretty, but that doesn’t make me loveable.” He wanted so desperately to say you are loveable. If you weren’t, what had he spent the last year doing? He wanted to slam on the breaks and finally tell you how captivating you are in more ways than one, but the fear of misstepping caged him into his spot as you continued on, “If there’s one thing I know, it’s that no one is obligated to love me.” You seemed to be letting all the exhaustion hit you, not even bothering to stop yourself, “It’s okay. I have the next best thing, sex.” Even you seemed to be unconvinced, “Maybe if I ask everyone for sex I’ll feel as content as Jihoon.” You seemed to be getting more and more upset as you dwelled on the topic.

“Why haven’t you asked me for sex then?” Jimin wanted to slam his head on the wheel and call it a night when he heard his voice speak what should have been an offhand thought.

You giggled a bit at this, relieving Jimin a bit, before shrugging, “I don’t want to use you like I let people use me.” You blew a breath, "You called my bluff. I don't wanna use anyone."

“Why do you let-”

“I, too, get horny and lonely.” You laughed bitterly, “People just lie to me that it’s something more when it’s not. Thank goodness I’m a psych major, or else I might believe them each time.” Judging by the melancholy in your words, Jimin doubted you didn’t not believe some of them, and the notion tore his heart in half. However, he was so pinned down by his fear, he couldn’t conjure the words needed.

“I mean, there are people out there who would like you and not just your body.” He spoke and he swore he was breaking a sweat by now.

You shrugged again, unconvinced again, “I’m glad you never asked me for sex.” You murmured and he glanced at you.

“Why?” Was he not your type?

“Because I think you’re a good person,” You gave him one more smile as he pulled up to your apartment complex, “and I’d like to keep thinking that.” You placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, “Thank you, for everything tonight.” He merely nodded in acknowledgment, throat strangled with a million emotions as he watched you go into your apartment.

Jimin let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding and drove, as if on autopilot, and let his head plop lightly on the wheel, “Pathetic display, Jimin.” He scolded with a strained voice. He hated this about him. He hated that each time emotions got too real, each time he could not hide behind a charming smile and playful banter, he would choke up. He had been a dance prodigy since birth, since getting scouted by a private school, since Mona adopted him for his career to go even further. And yet, he couldn’t confess to the girl he’s liked for over a year. Instead of staring, he wished he had just asked if you were okay.

He had never imagined you would be nearly as lonely as you felt. Anyone on campus would look at your smile and assume you were doing peachy, but by now, with his observations, he could see when you were faking. Why had he never approached you more to make you smile for real? Why did he remain complicit in fuckers like Jihoon and Yoora’s plight to make you feel less than the perfect girl you are? Who had instilled such an intense reaction to yelling in you? How many times have you thrown up in an alley alone because of the people who knew how to use someone as caring as you? Maybe if he had sat down and eaten that cookie with you, he would be driving the both of you home together.

He wondered if he would ever get the chance to do so at this point.

-------

“...Jimin?” Your voice snapped him from his thoughts as he looked at you, all dolled up and a little sweating from performing your final for the class he was your TA for, “You still here?” You giggled as you waved your hand in front of his eyes. You had been the last one to perform, so you figured his brain was fried from watching dozens of dance performances.

His smile grew with yours as he caught your hand in his, interlacing your fingers, “Yeah, I’m here, just got swept away in your performance is all.” He responded cooly and you rolled your eyes mockingly, “I’m serious, it was beautiful.” He brought your hand up, placing a kiss on your palm.

“Well, I had a wonderful training buddy.” You interlocked your fingers behind his neck as he laced his fingers on the small of your back. The PDA made you feel giddy, like a girl in her first relationship showcasing her wonderful boyfriend to the world, “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

He studied your face, your form, your everything for a moment. He basked in the glory of having someone as beautiful as you within his reach at long last. He thought back to each practice session and each kiss that came with it and couldn’t help the glee that spread in his chest. The glee was only further amplified by the very emotion on your face and he couldn’t fathom how he ever lived with himself seeing a fake smile on your face most days.

“You know I love you, right?” He blurted, making both of your eyes widen. Had he seriously just done that? Had he seriously confessed his love to you while the rest of your dance class waited to be dismissed? The air was still before he spoke again, “Could you do me a favor and beat the shit out of me?” He asked, making you giggle. Your joy was contagious and he found himself laughing too, in spite of the millions of emotions at confessing his love so suddenly.

You couldn’t fight the smile on your lips even if you tried. There was something so weightless about Jimin’s love, yet so meaningful. Where Yoongi had been intense and passionate, Jimin was bashful yet honest. It was this floaty feeling that made you lean up to his ears and whisper, “I love you too.” You beamed at him with a genuine smile and his heart soared.

“You do?” He asked excitedly, “You don’t have to, you know?” He reassured you and you could only chuckle.

“Oh well, if I don’t have to…” You joked as you moved to pull away from him, but he pulled you closer.

“I take it back- You have to.” He hurriedly spoke, “If… If you mean it.”

You nodded, a blissful smile on your face as you leaned up to kiss him, “I mean it, and it’s really nice being able to know you mean it too.” You whispered in his ear and in a moment of pure joy, he lifted you and spun you around, not caring about who saw or stared. You squealed at this, enjoying the moment of careless affection. He set you down with a slow kiss and you couldn’t help but melt into his form.

“You ready to go home?” He asked with a gleeful tone. You nodded excitedly and watched with hearts in your eyes as he dismissed the class with his hand in yours. He was always happy to display your relationship, even telling the professor in case he didn’t want Jimin grading your work. He announced it to the class with a blissful look and posted you all over any and all social media accounts he had. He had never been more proud to have someone by his side, and it made you emotional more than once. He held your hand in his as you walked to the car, swinging your arms just to hear your melodic laugh.

You checked your phone as Jimin closed the car door when you got in, “Oh, Hobi’s flight got delayed until tomorrow and Jin has to stay late tonight.” You mumbled, deep in thought for a moment, “And everyone else has something going on, so I guess it’s just me and you for dinner. One last night of freedom before you have to be busy too.” He placed a hand on your thigh as he drove and he'd be lying if he said he didn't have to mentally hype himself up to do it each time.

“Do you want to pick up dinner or just cook at home?” He asked cooly, masking his sheer glee at the domestic implications in his question.

You hummed, “I can cook something if you want,” You noted before a mischievous smile grew on your face, “My love.” You teased the pet name, making Jimin brake abruptly as he was getting out of the parking spot, his arm holding your body back from pushing forward. You gasped before you dissolved into laughter.

“Hey! Are you trying to make me crash?!” His face was beet red as he lectured you about car safety and how words can shake his whole world the whole ride home, and you had never been more enchanted by a flustered lecture in your life.

Eventually, he was finished lecturing you and the car was filled with laughter and light quips. He wondered how he ever lasted this long without you by his side, but he was glad he would no longer have to.

Tip Jar

[flamingo-writes]

Punk Rock (p.1) — Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

A/N: I have major Eddie brain rot. You’ll have to deal with me for a while. I’ve been working in another fanfic about him, but it’s kinda getting too long and I just word vomited this. There will be a smutty second part of this coming soon, perhaps later today or tomorrow. I also have binge read most of the things written of him by this point, ande while I love the trope of Eddie being with a sweet and innocent S/O, I’d like the idea of seeing Eddie with someone tough and even scarier than him. I feel like he’d be the kind of guy who loves intimidating women.

Summary: The both of you looked like you were just meant to be friends. The Rockstar and the Punk. Although at the beginning you didn’t quite dig Eddie constantly following you around. However, soon the both of you became close friends, pretty much inseparable. Eventually catching feelings for each other but without doing much about it. At least not until one of your usual Friday movie nights when you fall asleep on him, and in your half asleep state, you ask him to stay with you.

Genre: fluff, mutual pinning, eventual friends to lovers.

Warnings: mentions of blood, bullying, violent acts, name calling,a little bit of possessive Eddie, the reader is described as a total punk.

Word count: 2.7K

The way Eddie Munson and you became friends was rather strange at first. His insistent ass would follow you around like you’d been friends since forever after that one time you kicked some bully’s ass who was picking on him. And at first it was annoying. You were mostly known as a lone wolf with just a handful of friends, and Eddie in the beginning felt like a parasite. And what started as Eddie following you around because he knew people didn’t mess up with you, soon turned into a genuine friendship. You had grown fond of the little pest that made you groan annoyed and roll your eyes to laughing at his jokes and clever remarks. It was only a matter of time, really. Being not so different, the friendship was bound to happen; except for the little detail that you were dangerous. He wasn’t.

He looked like a rockstar, acted like an unhinged lunatic, and while he failed most of his classes, he actually had a very quick mind. He could make complex calculations in a few seconds, and while he wasn’t aware of all the things that make up good grammar and redaction, he was good at writing and speaking, he managed to sound like a renaissance playwright at times and throw a fuck or a motherfucker in his speech and somehow make it work like it was all part of the same original piece. What Eddie lacked was a sense of priority or simply fucks to give about school. And despite all of these things, the one thing Eddie was not, was aggressive.

Whenever bullies picked up on him, he’d laugh back and make a scene. His defense mechanism usually worked by spooking the bullies through his loud and obnoxious behavior. But he could never punch back.

Not like you. And God, he loved that about you. While you’d use to call Eddie Rockstar since for a fair amount of time he was following you, you didn’t know his name, soon Rockstar became a pet name, a nickname and token of your friendship. Eddie in return would call you Punk. Because that was what you were. Wearing similarly dark baggy clothes like him, and perhaps your hair wasn’t as extraordinary as his, you played with the messy makeup to better emphasize your nature. And leaving the appearances behind, you were a Punk through and through. And it had nothing to do with the Sex Pistols or Blondie posters in your room. No, it was all about how you’d fearlessly stand up for your principles.

Which was what brought you to Eddie in the first place. The moody anarchist that you were had an inherent disliking of the way societal norms tied everyone around you and how everyone seemed to play by them. There was a food chain to maintain like you were still wild animals and not civilized, thinking people. And whenever you was bullies throwing people around, you’d butt in, uncalled, unwanted, and most certainly feared.

Was it the fire burning in your angry eyes, or perhaps the way you yelled and called names, and how you threw punches? Because being a girl in the 80’s you were expected to be submissive and avoid trouble. No. The look in bully’s eyes whenever you threw the first punch always shocked them. Their threats to punch you back never made you back down, and in fact your words of encouragement only scared them even further.

"Yeah? Come on asshole, show the entire school who’s the man, punch a girl in the face and earn a reputation. Show me you’ve got the balls you brag you have!"

And while more often than not you did get punched, the taste of blood, your teeth tinting with red and the wicked smile in your face, made the horror spread in the bullies’ eyes. Asserting your dominance by enduring the pain and having the adrenaline rush pushing your body like a drug.

"It feels good, doesn’t it?" You’d reply before striking back.

You had earned a reputation. And got several expelling threats from the teachers, but you knew your way with words, and knew the school rules so well you could bend them and defend them, advocating for your own self, and successfully getting away with it. You managed to sneak through the rules, making it seem like you were playing by them. And whenever you had to significantly break them. You somehow managed to to save your ass every single time you walked through the principal’s office.

After you’d made a reputation for yourself, and after people understood you were somehow untouchable by school authorities, people became afraid of you. Rumors had it, you’d threatened with killing the principal’s family if he were were to do something to you. But rumors were stupid enough these days you hardly cared for what people had to say about you. You were the anarchist, the unstoppable force, the violent allegedly virgin girl because no man dared to go near you.

Except for Eddie.

The day it happened, Eddie was being thrown around in a circle of the rich guys in town. Being called freak, nerd, lowlife. Eddie played along and laughed it off, knowing eventually he was going to be left alone. He received a few kicks and punches by the school stairs. Holding on to the handle rail for dear life to keep himself from rolling down the stairs and possibly injure himself even further. And just when one of the bigger bullies was ready to stomp on his face, he fell over the stairs, rolling over and hitting his face against the concrete.

"Oops, I didn’t see where I was going" A very sarcastic and unamused voice echoed as the pack of well dressed chimpanzees immediately quieted down. "Oh dude, are you okay?" The sarcasm continued as Eddie looked up and saw you standing at the top of the staircase looking at the guy you had just pushed down the stairs with a petty grin. "I hope you can wash blood off your white Lacoste, it would be pretty lame if it didn’t,"

"You bitch!" One of his friends said walking closer to you.

"Back off unless you want to match Kyle’s new red stained shirt" You said in a flat threatening voice and looked at him. "Fill me in, is red in at the moment?"

"You’re crazy"

"Not as much as I’d like to. I don’t speak idiot, tell your friends to go away" You growled and maintained the eye contact. "Did I not just speak English or are you that stupid?!" You snapped as the guy before you flinched.

"You’re gonna pay for this!" Kyle whined as he stood up and tooK a few steps back, covering his bloody nose with his hand.

"Take a fucking turn" You barked as the pack of fancy bullies finally left.

You looked down at Eddie and offered your hand, unknowing that the moment his hand met yours, both of your lives would change, although it take you a while before you knew it was for the best.

"Are you alright, Rockstar?" You asked helping him up as Eddie looked at you with a golden fascination, like he’d just found a diamond mine.

At first, Eddie stuck with you because you were some sort of guard dog. He knew no one would dare to touch him with with you around. Your punk style matched his rocker style, and both of you listened to pretty similar music. Both being outcasts only helped you bond further. That sense of security he wanted to feel soon turned into friendship, and eventually, the admiration Eddie felt for your wild and fearless personality turned into love. Actual feelings that made him feel mushy and disgusting. Butterflies that made him nauseous and sleepless at night.

The two of you had built a routine, comfortably made to fit both of your every day routines. Whenever he had his D&D campaign, you’d stay at the school library and work on homework. After he was done, you’d walk to either of your houses and you’d help him study and with his homework. Ever since he befriended you, not only he realized people no longer picked on him, he also noticed an improvement in his grades and finally felt hopeful.

And as Halloween drew closer, the heat of the summer was left behind and the streets started coloring themselves in brown and orange. Your favorite time of the year to just sit back and feel the chilly autumn wind kissing your skin.

After you were done with homework, Eddie was still busy along with a handful of his other friends. You went to the classroom they were using and gently opened the door, poking your head inside.

"Hey, Rockstar, I’ll wait for you outside" You said briefly, not wanting to interrupt him any further as he didn’t even look up from his board, his hands together like a prayer and in front of his lips as he was thinking.

"Sure hun, we’re almost done" He replied softly.

You smirked and nodded ready to leave and let them focus when you saw the freshmen looking at you, a lanky tall one waving at you as you gave him a smirk and nodded acknowledging his greeting before you closed the door.

"Focus, Wheeler" Eddie said in a low threatening voice as Mike flinched.

"Ye-yeah, I’m sorry Eddie" He replied.

"You like her?" His black eyes met Mike’s, giving him cold shivers as he wondered if you and Eddie were together.

"What? No! I have a girlfriend. I just think she’s cool" Mike explained, saying the truth about finding you cool.

"That she is" Eddie muttered, part of his mind drifting to you and part of it focused on the slight possessiveness he felt our of the blue. "But back off," He added in a low whisper, as his senior friends exchanged knowing looks.

"I said a had a girlfriend" Mike added defensively.

"I’m talking to everyone" Eddie snapped, making it clear that you were his territory. His crush in you was already obvious, but only now, did the Hellfire Club realize how much you meant to him.

Going as far as using the low threatening voice he’d use to narrate the dangerous adventures they embarked on while playing D&D. The same fierce stare when he threw in a dangerous creature into the game, but now daring them to attempt any move in you.

Your pretty face, sarcastic nature and fearless bravery sure attracted a lot of people towards you, specially those who you’d stand up for against the bullies, like you’d done with Eddie. Except none of them actually had a chance with you. Was it because you simply didn’t mind them, not interacting with them any further other than polite hand waving and greetings in the halls, or because Eddie scared them off.

You didn’t hear the school gates opening and closing as the Hellfire Club exchanged goodbyes and each went their separate ways. Eddie saw you sitting on one of the iron tables outside of school and walked up to you, sitting next to you.

"Whatcha reading now, babe?’ He asked using one of the many pet names that made you weak on your knees but also weird because he was your best friend.

"The Scarlet Letter" You replied, closing the book, but keeping your thumb in your current page.

"Ah, of course. A book about expectations and fitting in" Eddie said with a cheeky tone and glanced at you as you smirked and met his stare.

"Was it too predictable of me?" You joked.

"Yeah, but it’s fine. You being predictable doesn’t make you any less cool" He said as he bumped his shoulder against yours. "C’mon, we’ve got horror movies to watch"

You chuckled and grabbed your bookmark from the end of the book and placed it in the middle of the book.

He recognized the sticker he gave you, you were using it as a bookmark. The last D&D kit he’d bought included several stickers of various characters and you’d told him if you could keep “the one with the dragon”, which, in any other circumstances he would’ve said no. It was the coolest one, but because it was you and he couldn’t say no to you, he let you keep it. The rest of the stickers ended up stuck in many of Eddie’s things. His locker, the mirror in his room, his closet door, almost as if he was marking his territory with them. And seeing you carrying around the sticker, instead of sticking it somewhere, keeping it safe and sound in your books, always carrying the sticker with you along with whatever book you were reading. The idea of you using the sticker he gave you and taking it everywhere with you warmed his heart. Poor guy, couldn’t be any more infatuated with you.

"Chop, chop, we have movies to binge watch!" He said grabbing his keys from his pocket and waving them as he guided you towards his van as you followed him with a chuckle.

The cool thing about Fridays was that after his club, you’d go to a store, buy snacks like you were going into hiding for weeks, rent a few movies –mostly horror movies– and head back to your place and watch them while binging on whatever snacks you bought. No homework to focus on, no additional explaining to do and help Eddie with school. Just forgetting about the entire world, in the comfort of your living room.

Your afternoon went by as it usually did. Unfazed by the horror scenes, you two simply pointed out the ridiculous bits and laughed off, while eating sweets, chips and drinking canned coke. Nothing out of your comfortable routine. Being slowly devoured by the couch, along with the tiresome week you had, you soon felt cooed by Eddie's presence. His warmth radiating through his long sleeve Hellfire Club shirt, the familiar smell of his cheap cologne and hairspray, even the sound of his voice, whispering next to your ear all the jokes he made. You fell asleep next to him on the couch.

His heart skipped a beat when he realized you were now peacefully sleeping with your head against his shoulder and your legs over his lap. His heart fluttered joyful as he wrapped his arms around you and brought you closer. In your sleep you groaned softly, making noises he found way too sweet and adorable. His heart once again skipping a beat as you gasped his name between dreams.

He managed to lay you down on the couch, and was ready to slide down to the floor when your hands clung to him and again in a sleepy state you called his name. Feeling his heart

About to jump off your chest, he looked at you with an adoring fascination. What were the chances of you corresponding to his feelings? Before this, he'd say pretty slim, you made it pretty clear you were friends. But right now, you were asleep, calling his name, clinging to his shirt as you told him to not go.

Lost in ecstasy, he looked at you with flushed cheeks.

"Babe, we can't fall asleep on the couch" He said.

"Yes we can," You replied, most of your brain induced asleep.

Once again, not being able to say no to you, he smiled and kissed your forehead.

"You sure you want to snuggle me?" He asked.

"Why not?" You dragged your tongue sleepily.

Eddie chuckled and wasted no time snuggling next to you as you clung to him like a koala.

"You know I'm going to tease you so bad about this tomorrow, right?" He purred.

"Shut up, Munson..." you yawned.

Eddie smiled, brushing a hand through your hair as you quickly finished falling asleep.

The horror movie playing now in the background as the smell of your perfume and your slow rhythmic breathing lured him to sleep. Thinking how the scary punk girl now looked terribly cute and adorable, asleep in his arms.it was something he could get used to, for sure.

~~~~~~

I hope you liked this! I will be writing more of him in the future! Let me know if you’d like to be tagged for the second part of this, or any Eddie fic I post ✨🙆🏻‍♀️

[unknownwriting]

ｓｕｍｍａｒｙ- request: prom hc

ｃｈａｒａｃｔｅｒ ｓ- Portgas D. Ace, Sabo, Monkey D. Luffy, Trafalgar Water D. Law

ｗａｒｎｉｎｇｓ- underage drinking, besides that none :)

ａ/ｎ- so like I’m still a junior so I have no idea what proms like but I mean I seen a very movies sooo...I hope you still enjoy 💕

Unedited

Portgas D. Ace

Definitely the flustered type but he’s so unbelievably sweet about everything.

The classic type tho, showing up to give your roses and meeting your parents. Embarrassing by everything your parents say.

Ace was so sweet that your parents eve joke about y’all getting married and all that. It’s safe to say that the both of y’all left the house redder than the tie Ace was wearing.

As soon as y’all drove off tho, you were in total control of the date. All that Ace knew was what Garp and the others told them, so the rest of the night was all up to you.

Ace looked hella awkward when It came to the party. Ace is all down for a good party but a formal one, so not his thing. So a lot of the night he was following your lead.

Obnoxious eating? Yes. Drinking a lot? Yup. Passing out afterwards and scarring the shit out of the others? Of course, it wouldn’t be a party without it!

Y’all would met up Sabo and his crew and just goofed around for the most part. Sabo joked about y’all being a couple and all that, y’all would sneak off the pull pranks on the teachers, piss of the love-dovey couple, then did it all again

When it came to dancing, you and some other girls would go dancing while Ace and the others watch from the outside. When the slow dance came on you bet your ass your dragging Ace out.

Very lazy slow dancing, your hands wrapped around his neck with your face buried in the crook of it, while Ace’s hands rested on your bottom. y’all would sway back and forwards just embracing each and enjoying the warmth. and then once the song was over, the 2 of y’all would end with a passionate kiss.

The night was a pretty simple night, Ace wasn’t to into the party so he didn’t want to do much. As long as he was with you, he doesn’t care. You didn’t want to stay the whole night either, you just wanted to make your appearance hang out with the others a bit then leave.

Once y’all leave, y’all send the rest of the night as Ace’s place. Watching movies, ruining yalls clothes, then passing out in some tangled position. The drinks, food, and sore muscles is a problem for the morning

Sabo

Prom king and queen hands down. It’s just a known fact. Going with this man means the nights gonna be almost perfect.

Y’all would be the couple that has matching outfits. Like your dress with match Sabo’s blue tie, stuff like that. He would also spoil you as much as he could too when it comes to getting ready, like he’ll pay for you to get your nails and hair done.

And when it comes to the night of the dance he’ll pick you up, give you flowers, talk with your family, take you out to dinner, then y’all will arrive at the yall walk hand in hand to the ball room. As if y’all were royalty. From there on out, y’all let whatever happens.

When y’all arrive, Sabo was quick to find Ace and his date. You know damn well your not gonna enjoy the party without him. You didn’t mind tho, whenever the 2 of them are together crazy stuff always happens.

Not only does Sabo buddy up with Ace most of the night, but Ace is a social guy, having ties with a lot of people. So y’all spend a lot of the time hanging out with other people. Of course Sabo’s not going anyways where without his date. So if your not going Sabo ain’t either.

Not much time is spent on the dance floor because y’all are always with some group of people goofing off and talking. But once the slow dance comes on the 2 of y’all are definitely gonna be floor dancing.

Similarly to Ace, y’all have a very lazy dance style. Your hands around his neck and his hands wrapped around your waist. A few words would be exchanged between y’all but besides that’s y’all just enjoy each other’s embrace.

Y’all do end up staying most of the night. The plan was to leave a little after the slow dance after y’all had finished talking to everyone. Y’all were gonna join Ace and his date do a double movie date at their house. But everyone insisted y’all stay

So y’all end up staying bc luckily enough this is when y’all are named prom king and queen, it’s was mostly sabo who won but everyone still voted you too bc let’s be honest y’all are still a perfect couple.

But after the crowning y’all basically said your thanks you and all that then snuck off with Ace and his date to crash at their place.

It was a very active night with you and sabo talking with everyone and then being named prom king and queen. And as always to end a very active night, the 2 of y’all cuddle in each other arms and just savor the embrace of each other.

Monkey D. Luffy

Very spontaneous with this one. You don’t even know your going with him until like 3 days before. And he didnt event bother to ask you, someone brought up the question in which Luffy answered, “Oh, I’m taking s/o.” Never once did you hear anything about it

But although you had 3 days to buy a dress and schedule hair and make up appointments, you went anyways. A party with Luffy and the Strawhats, no way your were gonna miss out on this.

Now Luffy’s not as romantic as his brothers but he’s knows that he at least has to take you out to dinner, he mostly heard that from Grap and the others. However Garp seemed to forget to see Luffy when. But you got into the car you thought he just simply forgot, but it wouldn’t till after dance would he take you.

The dance it’s was a whole experience. You wouldn’t expect any less tho. With the strawhats involved it always a party that either ends in 2 ways: 1- in disaster or 2- not a planned at all.

To start of with, somehow they were able to find the alcohol?? Which shouldn’t even be on the school grounds?? And they were already drinking it like no tomorrow. Zoro was on his 5th glass already and Nami was in a drinking contest

Brook took control of the Dj booth was just playing songs at random, ‘big green tracker’ by Jason aldean then ‘kiss me more’ by Doja cat, then some classical track

Usopp and Franky were doing god knows what. Something to do with the lightings or something. Making the dance floor much more like a club. Sanji was chancing off a group of girls around the floor, and then finally Robin and Chopper were just in the back enjoying the food

They were all over the place but it’s what makes them the life of the party. Even though they were all over the place and doing their out think, Luffy was jumping around everywhere too but he still knows that y’all are on a date, so where ever he goes you follow behind.

This prom is definitely going down in school history. There is no way that people won’t be talking about it. Anything to do with the Strawhats goes down in history.

Of course unlike the others, y’all end up partying all night long and then crashing at some restaurants Luffy promised he’d take you. Although it wasn’t much of a prom date, you still enjoyed the time you spent with the others. And Luffy made sure to keep you close to his side all night long.

Trafalgar Water D Law

Law was that one cool senior, who had like a cool car and all that. With that being said, you were his 1 year younger lover. So while he doesn’t go to school anymore, he was still your date to prom.

Practically the talk of the school when y’all arrive, not because y’all are still dating but mostly because you were able to keep up with someone like him. With Law being cool he was still kinda a jerk, so having you with him was a relief

So law may be a jerk but he’s is a romantic one at least. Like sabo, he picks you up and gives you a bunch of flowers, he not to social with your parents but they are still cool with him. Then take you out to dinner

At dinner you joke about how he just left high school and now he’s back and how awkward it would be to see his old teachers. Of course, he doesn’t care. Law was more curious to see how the night played out. His senior year he didn’t go to prom so it’s the first with you.

When y’all first get to the party, Law’s pretty much glued to your side. Not because he find it awkward and uncomfortable but he just doesn’t know anyways besides the teachers. So you take him around and introduce him to all your friends.

Whether you introduced a boy or girl, Law kept a hand on you the whole time, almost as a way of saying that your his. This is when you first realized just how intimidating Law is. He really does seem to only have a soft spot for you. So when it come to dancing, Law stood near the wall letting you enjoy the dance floor with your friends without him.

He made sure to scare of any boy who got to close tho, as he watched you with such an intense gaze. However once the slow dance come on that all changed. You dragged Law out to the dance floor where y’all were both surrounded by a bunch of other couples.

Surprisingly for how much Law doesn’t say he’s not a good dancer he was amazing when it came to the slow dance. He was such a passionate dancing too, but so much love in the dance. With y’all’s hands intertwined and his hands resting on your hip and yours on his shoulder, the 2 of y’all swayed back and forward.

However once the slower dance was over, y’all really had no other reason to stay. So you law and a few other friends snuck out and just crashed at some bar where y’all celebrated both prom and graduation that was coming up soon.

Although Law already graduated, he would never miss an opportunity to share a drink and few heated kisses between his tipsy lover.

[sadoeuphemist]

We were about twenty minutes in when we realized Brody’s fingers weren’t wrinkling. We’d only just come up with the idea for the competition, all of us splashing around in the pool and clowning on each other, and Kai was going, “You guys ready to have your whole bodies turn into prunes? All baggy and swole up with water? Because I’m sticking it out to the end. You guys don’t want to end up with your waterlogged skin peeling off, you better call it right now!” That got us comparing each other’s fingertips, trying to figure out who’d end up the most pruney, and Brody’s were perfectly smooth and taut, not a wrinkle in sight.

“You been keeping your hands out of the water?” Derek said, squinting at him.

“I’ve been in the pool just the same as you,” said Brody with a shrug. He splashed his hands. “Maybe you guys just don’t have what it takes.”

“What the hell,” said Derek. “Let’s see your feet.”

Now all of us, our toes were pretty wrinkly already, but Brody, again, had perfectly smooth skin, not a single wrinkle or crease. “What the hell?” said Derek.

“Is there something wrong with your skin?” said Tyler. We were all sort of gathered around him now, with Brody leaning against the edge of the pool and floating, bobbing one foot out of the water. “Is this, like, a medical condition?”

Brody shrugged again and looked real smug.

“Are you not affected by water?” said Kai.

“Hey,” said Brody, “you guys don’t think you can beat me, feel free to call it quits right now. Me, I’m real comfortable.” He spread his elbows out on the gutter like he was reclining on a throne. “I could spend the whole summer in this damn pool.”

“C’mon in the deep end, if you’re so comfortable then!” said Kai.

Brody laughed and pushed off from the wall, disappearing under the surface of the water, a dark shape propelling itself across the pool until he surfaced again at the far end. We all stared.

“What the hell?” said Derek. “How is your hair not wet?”

---

The contest was temporarily put aside, as everyone applied themselves to the issue of how Brody’s body was completely unaffected by the water. The rest of us splashed around, got chlorine in our eyes, snorted water out of our noses, watched the skin on our fingers etch themselves into little labyrinths of grooves, and through it all Brody might as well have been on dry land for all it showed on him. It was as if his skin had been sealed off, rubberized, like there was an invisible force field keeping the water from touching him. Brody himself seemed similarly insulated to the bizarreness of what the hell was going on with his body. “I’m feeling great,” was all he would say. “I could spend the whole summer right here.”

I was the first to call it quits after a few hours. “Brody’s going to win,” I said, climbing out of the pool dripping. “How’s this even a contest? He’s got some weird physiology that makes him immune to water!”

“Boooo,” said Tyler. “Don’t even want to try for second place!”

“I’ve swam enough!” I said. “I’m going inside!”

“Yeah, that’s right,” said Brody. “Acknowledge the champion. All of you ought to give up right now.”

We had a pizza by the poolside as well as a bunch of drinks, but as the hours went by I ordered another, got more drinks out of the refrigerator. Tyler gave up. I went diving a few more times, but then the sun started going down and it started getting cooler. Derek got out, shivering. Kai and Brody had set themselves at opposite ends of the pool, staring each other down.

Tyler broke out the DVDs. Derek went out to yell at them. “It’s been ten hours!” he said. “You fuckers have been emptying soda cans and haven’t left the pool once! That’s piss soup in there! You’re both stewing in piss soup!”

Kai looked absolutely miserable. His fingertips were white and wrinkled and had turned translucent. He was hunched around himself like a wadded-up rag. The moon was out, reflected in milky ripples across the pool. Brody meanwhile looked untouched, like a plastic bottle bobbing in the ocean, stoppered up and completely airtight. “You could quit at any time, Kai,” he said, grinning. “This is my element.”

“F-fuck you,” Kai said. “You gotta crack, sooner or later. I don’t care what sort of genetic mutant you are, you can’t keep sitting in a pool for hours and nothing happens to your body. You gotta reach your limit! You gotta - hit saturation or something, man, I don’t know! Fuck!”

“Suit yourself,” said Brody. He lazily kicked out his legs. “Man, this pool’s real nice. Figure I could just about live here.”

“It’s piss soup!” Derek said.

It took two hours more, but Kai finally gave up. He came out shivering from the black surface of the pool, and we had to wrap him up in towels and rub him down because he looked like he was at risk for hypothermia. Brody did a few more laps, floating unconcernedly, and we had to yell at him before he finally pulled himself out. He sat on the edge, one foot still dangling in the water, and rubbed at the sole of his foot.

“Hey, whaddya know,” Brody said, looking down. “Finally got a wrinkle. What are we on, hour twelve? Well, took long enough, I guess.”

We all looked, even Kai, who was still waterlogged as a drowned cat. There was in fact a wrinkle on Brody’s perfectly smooth skin - but just a single one, incongruous against his rubberized sole. Squinting at it, I thought it looked like a defect, a flaw in the material. It was like seeing a wrinkle on the taut skin of an inflated balloon.

“Never got one of these before,” Brody said casually, pinching the crease of skin between his fingers. I got a sick feeling in my stomach, seeing it, someone pinching the skin of a balloon. “Maybe you shouldn’t -” I started to say.

And then the piece of skin came off in Brody’s fingers, and all the water started gushing out.

We were all awestruck for a moment, just watching it. It was a perfect arc of water, crystal in the moonlight, so smooth that it seemed like a curve of glass stretching from his foot into the pool, like a sculpture, or a fountain, a perfect pressurized flow. We might have all just watched that for a good ten seconds, twenty seconds, half a minute, just staring in wonder at the sight of it, and then I looked up at the rest of Brody and saw his eyes rolling back in his head, his head and shoulders deflating, sagging, right about to collapse.

“Oh shit, put some pressure on it!” Tyler called out, and we all sort of grabbed at him at the same time and went unbalanced, and Brody toppled right back into the pool, Tyler and Derek diving in, fully clothed, after him.

Between the four of us we must’ve seen that event from every possible angle, and yet none of us could tell what had happened next. We all saw bubbles, the splash, the force of impact, and to my mind it was like watching a balloon popping, the pressure equalizing, Brody disappearing beneath the surface of the water and gone. Tyler and Derek came up gasping, and already there was this murky fog spreading through the water, all skin cells and hair and whatnot, I figured, Brody’s remains. Derek scrambled out of the water, spluttering, rubbing at his skin and pulling off his shirt and immediately ran to hose himself down. Tyler dived back down, looking for Brody, and then came back up again with the growing bewilderment of someone who’d set something down for just a moment and couldn’t tell where he’d left it. Kai was standing by the pool’s edge, probably in shock, and I'd fallen backwards on my ass and was just watching the whole thing like an idiot, while Tyler dived under again and again, feeling around the edges of the pool, possibly trying to find Brody by process of elimination.

Finally we managed to get him to come out, and we all just stood there poolside, staring down at the cloudy water. Brody was gone, not a trace left of him but his trunks.

“Fuck,” I said.

“Yeah,” said Kai. “Fuck.“

“Oh god,” said Tyler. “Oh god oh god he just disappeared, he was there and then -”

The murky pool water burbled, bubbled, spoke with Brody’s voice, if he had been speaking to us from the bottom of a drain.

“Told you guys I could spend the whole summer right here,” it said.

---

So, swimming was out for the rest of the summer. Brody occupied the pool, and the rest of us would come by to skim out the leaves and whatnot, toss some pizza slices or nachos in there occasionally, or empty in a few cans of coke. The water level slowly sunk as the summer rolled along, the pool water growing cloudier and more congealed, until it started to look like Jell-O setting in a mold. The pool drained itself, its contents becoming more and more concentrated, until one day we came by and found Brody at the bottom of the pool, stark naked, his skin still wobbly and not quite fully set, waving up at us.

“Lost my trunks!” he said. “How ‘bout you help a guy out!”

So that was how we spent our summer, and we all agreed that we had definitely not gotten the full benefit of the pool, although Brody maintained he could not reasonably be blamed. That didn’t stop him from lording his victory over the rest of us, proclaiming himself the undisputed Champion of the Pool, a record that would never be broken. Brody being Brody, it got to the point where he was seriously obnoxious about it, but once Derek started calling him Piss Soup that was finally enough to shut him up.

[tenderlyrenjun]

the one with the morning classes

summary: you don’t really want to go to class, and Yangyang half-agrees.

↛ ↛ ↛ psych major!Yangyang x art history major!reader

↛ ↛ older female reader, college au, mentions of alcohol, yearning, best friends to lovers/ish, smut (18+) - there is literally sex in every scene, best friend!ten on both sides, study dates, love confessions in bed

↛ word count: 11,9k (I am so sorry lmao)

part one > part two > part three

if you are under 18 and interact with this at all, i will block you

An obnoxious ringing interrupts your day, way too early, and you whine at it, suddenly reminded about the terrible decision that you made last year with the on-call academic advisor: selling your soul to Satan, or, as they phrased it, taking an 8 A.M. class. The default iPhone ringtone seems especially heartless right now, even though you have a class at this time every semester.

Still, it takes Herculean effort to pull your hot, sweaty face out of the pillows and actually get a breath of fresh air. You inhale once, twice, then support yourself on your elbows, tossing all your messy hair over your bare back, like a curtain, to draw it away from your cheeks. The sunlight makes you squint, not having given you enough time to adjust to it yet, because laying in bed, naked, is so much more enticing than actually waking up. Unfortunately, the ringing persists, getting louder, you think. You find yourself clawing through the sheets again, in search of that damn alarm. And when you do find it, screen faced down, you hit snooze via power button, giving yourself extra time before class.

After the annoying sound stops, Yangyang leans toward your naked shoulder, his d!ck thrusting in you at a further angle. He kisses the tip your spine with slightly parted lips, peppering more along your deltoid muscles, directed by his trailing tongue. You cannot tell was tingles more – the goosebumps left in his wake, or the blood rushing to your vulva, caused by the nipping at your skin. Yangyang finds a more permanent spot (that would be hidden by a shirt) above your collarbone and sucks deeper for a few seconds. Instinctively, you drop your cheek into the sheets again and swirl your ass up, before propping your lower body on your knees. His groans fall with you, and he nearly did too, but he stands on his hands. You are very aware of his strength, especially now as you close your eyes and he reverses your moves, grinding his hips forward. One of his hands reaches forward to grab your face and finally kiss you. He is slow and head spinning, and he continuously inclines his head at varying degrees to keep the embrace going.

Then, your phone goes off again and you break the kiss.

“We need to get – Oh, God.” Your forehead redirects onto the mattress, and your breath becomes shallow, cracked by sharp whines blurring out the alarm. As far as you are concerned, Yangyang is all consuming, from the way he kisses you to the way he makes you feel. “Ah, right there, please.” He squeezes your ass, fingers drilling deeply into your skin. His touch feels better than a massage, you think, almost loosening up all your muscle tension.

“So naughty,” Yangyang whispers, strongly. He sounds masculine without being so aggressive. It is very sexy of him. You try to show him, too, that he is hot, by reacting more enthusiastically. Unlike him, you say it silently and hope he knows. He replies, slapping your butt again, and smirks when you moan. “Wanna play hooky? You still, fuck –“ His breath drops, voice getting lower, huskier. He propels his d!ck shallowly, at the same pace your mouth widens in an ‘O’ shape. “- remember your manners.”

“Mmm hmm,” you agree. You roll your hips side to side, slowly stretching as if coming out of child’s position in yoga. It similarly feels satisfactory, like an injection of morphine. “We really need to get up. I have class; you ­– shit –“ His thrust pushes you forward, muting your counterarguments. “- you have class soon.”

Yangyang combs your baby hairs onto your opposite shoulder, gently nibbling around your thyroid, and you whine, knowing that you have an easily swayed mindset right now. “It doesn’t sound like you want to get up yet.” He guides your hips like a figure eight motion. His hand comes around front, between your thighs, holding on in a way that allows him to stimulate your clit with his index and thumb. Every movement gets more intense: the speed, the pressure, even the direction of his fingers, as he elongates all the sensations. It feels like he gets bigger too, lunging more alert with his thrusts. “You need a good wake up call, huh?”

You nod, eagerly, biting your lip. “Mmhmm, my morning ritual is, is really long, fuck.”

Yangyang smirks, motivated even more by the double entendre. And the way his tip rasps against your walls, oh god. You ball the sheets into your fists, putting a protective layer between your nails and palm because he gradually becomes erratic. He comes down to your ear, using his lips to bite at it while whispering, “Wanna turn off the alarm?”

“Hmm?” You open your eyes. “Oh, right.” It doesn’t feel like it has been nine minutes. So, after you pick your phone up again, you turn it over to look at the alarm settings, but it is replaced by the call acceptance slider. You blink a couple times and try getting a clearer look – which is difficult, considering that your head keeps bouncing as he grinds harder and harder, and harder. Then, the call restarts. “Shit.”

Yangyang stops moving to glimpse at what’s wrong. His chest brushes against your back and you can feel his erect n!pples graze your spine. You turn the screen at him, contemplating whether to answer it. Thank God, though, that Ten isn’t asking to FaceTime. You honestly don’t know how you would recover from him seeing Yangyang lay naked on you, especially after that comment at the Halloween party about feeling ‘too comfortable’ with him like this.

“I’m gonna answer it.”

“What?”

“I have to answer it,” you argue. “It’s Ten. He’s going to suspect something if I don’t.” The call ends again, and the notification center shows six missed calls. You turn over your phone again. “Shit, he’s been phoning all morning. I have to answer it.”

You partially expect Yangyang to get up. Instead, he comes down, brushing your hair over your shoulder and pushes you into the blanket. You stretch your arms away from him to redial Ten’s number, although your hands (and thighs) start shakily with his moves. The line rings four times before Ten answers, and you sigh, half-disappointed, half-orgasmically.

“Um, hello?” Ten answers sarcastically, on speaker. “Are you ready? ETA 20.” You hear rustling on the other end that sounds similar to Yangyang ruffling your bedsheets. He is trying to get at your t!ts and you let him, propping up into a true doggystyle. Ten doesn’t appear to discern anything, so you keep the phone on mute – which is necessary because you buck your hips at Yangyang, getting his tip angled on your g-spot. He outlines your n!pples, fingers squeezing over your areola. You almost moan again, but Ten reminds you about his presence: “I’m getting in my car right now.”

“Hmm?” Why?

The silence is deafening, all excess noise stopping, until it is just your heavy breaths and small wet noises. You widen your eyes, thinking that Ten discovered your current … entanglement, so you grab Yangyang’s hand, to suppress anymore sounds. It makes you lose balance temporarily, but expectedly he catches you, by the waist. He waist a few seconds, then drops his wrist to your clit, lightly sliding up and down without thrusting his d!ck. You let him continue, panting with your lower abdomen quivering. He has to stop though, because his exhibitionist tendencies might expose you two. You take his hand off your clitoral hood and kiss his inner wrist before sucking his fingers clean. He shudders his hips. You bite your lip. He smiles. Then, he takes his hand back, planting it into the mattress for extra support so that you can actually answer this call, that the two of you keep forgetting about.

“It’s my treat, remember?” Ten tries to jog your memory, nearly shouting. You can hear him breaking through your bubble. It is just that you are a bit distracted at the moment to really recall any memories. You cannot be entirely held accountable for Yangyang’s big d!ck.

Yangyang starts sucking on your neck again, pushing his pelvis slowly into your ass harder, to give you a better reminder: that you are currently being a good girl for him, to make up for being so naughty this morning (even though he also seemed pretty close to ditching class earlier).

“For breakfast yesterday, after the party,” Ten outwardly tells you. Right, it’s Monday, and you often grab coffee with Ten on the way to campus because 8AMs are hell – you have to absorb new information when you can barely see through all the crap in your eyes, and he can barely comprehend his notes from the night before without the morning bean juice. There is some shuffling on his end again, similar to shaking his wrist free of a sweater to get a better look at his watch. It isn’t enough to hide the moan trapped in your throat. So, you try biting your fist as Yangyang swirls his hips, grazing the ends of your nerves. You roll your eyes to the back of your head and hit mute, in order to moan. “Unless you want to walk? I don’t think you’ll make it though. It’s, like, almost 7:20.”

“What?” your voice cracks. You are still muted though, so you un-mute and repeat the exclamation, whining a little when Yangyang tries to get you to orgasm faster, also having heard the time. Hopefully Ten does not notice anything. You think that you were quiet enough to push it off as a complaint.

“I’ll be outside your apartment in 20.”

Yangyang pulls your chin to make you look at him, staring at you to ask what is going on. You mouth a quick explanation: Ten. Ride. Coffee. 20 minutes. He is so close, warm breath enveloping your skin. You take the distance, initiating yet another kiss, essentially in front of your best friend, although the latter cannot hear or see either of you. Yangyang holds onto your chin, possibly afraid of being swept away or falling again. But you have enough support for both of you, and you know that if you fell, he would catch you. So, you kiss him again, and again.

“Hello?” Ten calls into the void. “Did you lose signal again? See, I told you not to choose the shitty complex on Main because the connection is so bad there.”

You put a hand above Yangyang’s heart and clear your voice, turning to the speaker. “I’m still here. Just, hold on a second.” You hit mute again, then turn to Yangyang. “Do you want a ride too?” Yangyang contemplates for a second, and you drop your forehead into your elbow, biting your lip because, after all, he is still inside you, inside your clenching and very aroused p.ussy, where you want him to finish. He nudges your shoulder with his nose and confirms that yeah, he needs a ride. You kiss him a few more times, unsure why, just wanting to be close – something about want to say in his presence, enjoying his presence. He swirls his hips. It feels really good to be with him. “Yeah, so Yangyang is in the neighborhood.”

“Wha-“

“A huh,” you whine, more at Yangyang than Ten. “He just texted me. He’ll meet you – us! He’ll meet us at my apartment. I’m going to get ready now, bye!” you say everything in one breath, hanging up as equally abruptly before Ten could insert his two cents. You drop the phone and turn around, kissing Yangyang deeply. As he returns your affection, you enunciate slowly, “Five minutes, then we have to get ready. Ten is getting too suspicious.”

Yangyang finishes a little bit after five minutes, not that you mind. Non-residents have to get buzzed into your building, and Ten doesn’t have a key to your front door. You indulge the moment, laying on your arm bent under a pillow. He looks at you with all the care in the world, no longer that suave fuck buddy from a few moments ago but a young romantic who caresses your inner thigh and talks big game about all the connections you two have in common, or don’t. Your hand dips to the top of his head, combing a small section with your nails to his ends. Yangyang asks you for the time, and you almost don’t give it to him, preferring to spend time with him here than overanalyzing some stupid thesis statement that you wrote at 4AM. You pout, and pull his phone between the two of you, showing him that Ten will arrive in ten minutes – ironic, you think.

Yangyang approaches your face, millimeters from your lips. He waits for you to flutter your eyes closed, anticipating a kiss, then runs into the shower. It takes you a minute to join him, and when he sees you, smirking, like you have some dastardly revenge plan in the works, Yangyang shuts the glass door, isolating himself in the cold shower. He holds on extra tightly so that you cannot get in. You look hot when you are annoyed though – he needs to annoy you more. It is even more fun to mollify you. He pulls you into the shower next to him by grabbing your ass and makes out with you against the wall for a few seconds, until you start stretching at the lavender body wash on the shelf behind him.

This time, Yangyang finishes first, hopping out to sprinkle the roots of his hair with dry shampoo so Ten does not get too suspicious. If he has wet hair, then it would be obvious that he stayed over. He puts the powder back on the shelf and wanders into your room, towel wrapped loosely around his waist – even though it’s nothing you haven’t seen before. There are a few of his clothes in your closet from all the time you stole them, or a couple mini getaways that you two have taken. After he changes into an outfit that he can actually wear in public, he picks out an extra one of his over-sized shirts and drapes it on the towel rack for when you get out. He knows that you really like his clothes, especially the organic band tees. It is another plus that you share the same music taste. Hopefully, none of his friends catch onto the coincidental similarities.

Yangyang likes that you spend a lot of time in his clothes. They always end up smelling like your lotions. It is comforting and reminds him of all the nights ‘studying’ until 3AM. You know, not that he would actually say it out loud (mostly because he also likes to wear his favorite shirts), but you look cuter than him, in his Kendrick Lamar concert tee. And besides, there is a secondary reason as to why he rummaged through your underwear drawer: he wanted to choose your panties for today. It might be a black lingerie set, but how is he supposed to know the difference between a t-shirt bra and a balconette? :^)

Yangyang makes his way into the kitchen, snagging a mini muffin off the island. With the work out he just had, he needs protein but there isn’t enough time to cook anything, not that he actually could; eh, he’ll end up buying something on campus. He tosses two more muffins into his backpack for later – one chocolate for him, one strawberry for you. On Mondays, between classes, he usually catches you in the student experience center, finishing some last-minute assignments. You always end up pushing lunch until after four, ergo he tries to bring you some snacks, whenever he can. Once, his research methods class got cancelled and you didn’t have any pre-lecture materials to work on, so he brought two cups of ramen. You two had a semi-date then. He wonders if it can happen again, today. Ten interrupts the thought though, before it can develop into a real plan, and he sighs. He doesn’t know why, but he keeps thinking about defining this relationship at the worst possible times.

“Yellow?” Yangyang answers, mid-bite. He shifts the phone to his shoulder so that he can check your notification center for any missed calls. You have three. Ten has been going to voicemail all morning, Yangyang deduces, and if he was Ten, he would be damn suspicious at this point.

“Hi, baby,” Ten coos. “I’m outside. Buzz me in, yeah?”

Yangyang reflexively pouts. “I’m not your baby. I’m 20 now.” Still though, he complies, letting Ten into the building, and his friend is upstairs within a minute – not that it is too far. You live on the second floor.

“So,” Ten sings while glancing around the apartment. Yangyang wonders what for – hopefully, not searching for his secret relationship. Ten closes the door, his eyes landing on Yangyang and eying him down suspiciously, in a curious way. “What are you doing in the neighborhood, anyways?”

“I, uh, bought breakfast at Allen’s coffee, down the street,” he lies, “And I didn’t feel like walking back to the frat.” He shrugs too, trying hard to be as nonchalant as possible.

“A huh.” Ten does not seem to accept it, but he lets it slide when you walk into the room, wearing Yangyang’s t-shirt tucked into a pair of black jeans. Yangyang cannot see why Ten would recognize the top because you also happen to like Kendrick Lamar – one of your favorite songs is King Kunta, even though you cannot sing along to save your life. Yangyang finds it endearing that you enjoy rap music, even though you cannot match the flow or pitch.

His gaze is still endearing when you walk into the kitchen, beelining for the last mini muffin. Yangyang catches how intensely he was staring at you, after you blink at him (and Ten).

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing,” they mutter, looking away.                        

“Okay,” you drawl suspiciously, swallowing half your breakfast. You fold the rest of it into the front pocket of your backpack and pick up your textbook. Yangyang meets your gaze but you immediately flicker to Ten. “Can we grab something at Starbucks really quick?”

Ten stares at Yangyang. You just got coffee for yourself, even though you were coming here? Yangyang waves a hand, unsure how to respond. This whole secret relationship has gone on longer than he thought it would. It was supposed to be a one-night stand kind of thing when he first kissed you, the night that Ten introduced you two back in March after Renjun’s birthday party, and not even a one-night stand! He just expected you to make out with him, not give him a blowjob in Kun’s bathroom then let him take you back to his room at the frat.

“What?” You look between them. Yangyang shakes his head, nothing. You stare him down and give in, then turn back to Ten. “I haven’t eaten anything. Please?”

“Alright, fine,” Ten cedes. He holds his hands up in surrender, his keys waving like a white flag. As you all file out the door, Yangyang jokingly asks if he can drive. Ten deadpans at him, protective over the car, and smacks him on the back of his head. “Let’s go.”

Yangyang barely notices when they pull into the drive-thru on 1st, too busy scrolling through Instagram while you and Ten talk about an EDM festival coming this weekend. He only picks up his head when you lean over the gear shift, blocking the GPS from his view (in the middle seat) – he was monitoring the distance to make sure that you get to class on time.

“Can we get two breakfast sandwiches, an iced coffee with 2% milk, and an iced London fog latte, extra pump of vanilla, with coconut milk?” You turn to ten. “Want anything?”

Ten furrows his eyebrows. Neither of them looks at Yangyang, and he lowers his phone, knowing that he is about to be caught in a lie. He didn’t think that Ten would ask anything because of the time crunch. Evidently, he was wrong, and now he doesn’t know how to unspin the lie.

“Who are you ordering all that food for?” Ten asks.

You look at him skeptically, a what the fuck hanging palpably in the air before you point to the backseat. “For the baby.”

“Not a baby,” Yangyang pipes up, voice cracking. He tugs on the collar of his shirt, smiling embarrassed.

Ten turns on his side, back facing the window as he stares between the two of you, ultimately settling on Yangyang. “I thought that you said you already got breakfast at Allen’s.” Ten rotates to you. “That’s why he’s in the neighborhood, right?”

A huh, yeah. Yangyang almost tells another lie but the monitor clerk asks if they want anything else, and they are holding up the line with an empty lane in front. Saved by the bell intercom. Ten orders an extra americano, then you all persist through the awkward silence until reaching the front window. You pay with the app as Ten passes out the round of drinks like a bartender. Yangyang pokes his paper straw through the lid. You can’t baby him if he does everything himself first.

“Uh, are you good?”

Yangyang looks up. You have your iced latte between your legs, holding it at the top of your thighs on your crotch like an ice pack.

“Yeah, what do you mean?”

“I mean,” Ten enunciates, putting this drink in the cup holder, “people only put ice on their private parts when they’re sore.” He widens his eyes, posture stiffening and he points at you. “Did you have that guy over? The best y-“

“You don’t –“ You hold up a hand, physically interrupting him. Yangyang should have known that Ten would never seriously suspect him as your fuck buddy; he doesn’t know whether to be relieved or offended. “- have to repeat it. I just feel sore.”

Yangyang smirks at that, but he has to hide it when Ten looks at him, pinching his cheeks down like a Tim Burton character. The look in Ten’s eyes is confused again, and he knows that one of two questions is going to come out: if he met that guy that you’re sleeping with, of if he is the guy that you are sleeping with. Fortunately, Yangyang sees the navigation touch screen, and the time is two minutes until eight and you are five minutes off campus. Ten has to drop the conversation and speed to the art building so that at least you get there on time. The extra few minutes he has to spend alone with Ten gives him the idea to cool things off with you for a few days.

That sounds bad, like he is blowing you off, but honestly, you agreed.

Yangyang caught you in front of the communal office space for linguistics GTAs, a few minutes before office hours ended. He snatched you into a supply closet, dragging you by the waist, and covered your mouth to prevent you from screaming bloody murder. You two acknowledged the thin ice that has been melting for a couple weeks now. And he brought up taking a break from seeing each other for a while. At first, you thought that he was breaking up with you – or as close to breaking up as possible, because still, you are not dating. But then, he saw your face and reassured you that he does want to keep seeing you, even in secret; maybe next time, you two should talk about your relationship.

Friends do not need to see each other every day, you know. Or, like, at least, casual friends don’t. Sure, you FaceTime Ten all the time and Yangyang lives with Xiaojun so he sees his best friend daily by default, but you two are not similarly close friends, especially not when other people can perceive how you two interact. No one has to know just that you see Yangyang just as often, in person. And you do it because, well, because you like him – which explains how he ends up back in your bed by Wednesday.

“I’m gonna be late again.”

“No, you won’t.”

Yangyang reaches around your collarbone, brushing his thumb along your bottom lip until he can comfortably hold your jaw. He draws you in for another kiss, his eyes mirroring yours - distracted, enamored, aroused. You cautiously spin around, throwing your arms around his neck to avoid getting swept away, which seems impossible because he holds you securely, at your mandible and the beltloop on your waist. He inhales upon the next embrace, closing his pretty mouth over your philtrum like a slow bite – like several slow bites. You meet him, every time, at the end of each kiss when he shifts onto his toes, getting too tall for your lips, and pull him back on the ground to get more. He moans, after you start roaming your hands under his shirt, running your nails over the crevices in his body like a memorization technique for an early class you don’t have.

You feel hungry, for love, wanting to feel warm. The sun will not rise for another half hour, but he is the warmest thing in the room, even though you are fully dressed, not expecting to be late like two days ago. He copies your moves, unbuckling his hand like a belt, sliding it under your shirt and palming your b.oobs. Then, you squeal, giggling breathily, when he spins you around again and smacks your ass, pushing your thighs into the mattress that you two are standing over.

“Do you trust me?” he whispers in your ear, sucking upward on your external jugular vein.

“No.”

Yangyang stops, deadpanned. He hits your butt again, like a punishment – his favorite kind of punishment, it seems because he repeats it every morning like a bad kind of player, the rich one who goes to bars and unexpectedly falls in love with an attendee, as if it is a coming of age Netflix movie. He repeats it again until you fall on your hands over the bed. You look behind your shoulder at him, jaw dropped. And he takes no time to interpret it, stumbling next to you.

You roll over, led by your hips, so that you can match him, latching onto his face with your hands on his cheeks. “Of course, I trust you, dummy.”

He looks down still, picking at the seams of your jeans. And you detect his teasing tone, easily, because he goes directly to your inner thighs, tracing up along the thread until he reaches your zipper. “Really?”

You roll your eyes, then make him look at you. He has that kicked-puppy expression in the way the outline of his eyes falls below his eyebrows, but the glint and the gummy smile have you knowing otherwise. “Yes.”

Yangyang pops your pants button undone, mischievously pulling his lips into a dramatic pout. “And you’re not lying to me?”

“No,” you emphasize. You brush his hair back, scratching your nails along his scalp, behind his ears. His smile cannot help itself, breaking out in a way that has you completely immersed. It reminds you of that time when you went go karting with Ten and a few others. You were undoubtedly a bad driver, bumping into the track walls, even during the straight lanes. One time, you made a particularly excellent sharp turn, surpassing Johnny to the finish line. Unfortunately, you were completing lap 3 of 5 and him 5 of 5, but Yangyang still congratulated you afterward – in bed. He also lit up, when you two were just laying under the covers, staring at the ceiling because the stars were too far away. You held onto the arm around your waist, laying on his naked shoulder as he told you about wanting to be a race car driver as a kid, then an automotive or aerospace engineer as a teenager, before he settled on psychology. He kept talking, as if crafting this beautiful galaxy. That is when you knew.

“Prove it.”

“What?” You sit up and straddle him. “How do you want me to prove it?”

Yangyang starts begging for affection, slithering his hand down your stomach, into your underwear. He pulls you into his chest, giggling when you topple him into the pillows, clearly not having estimated the force. You like that you never have to beg for his attention. He always, for some reason, notices you, and it is so hard not to pick up on it. You wonder just how no one has learned about you two yet. It’s not like you are being subtle. Although, the smallest acts he gives you can be found under subtle in the dictionary. Like now, he tucks your hair behind your ear, gaze flickering from his hand across your cheek to your eyes. You kiss him again – only a brief peck, because he inserts two fingers inside you, making you gasp sharply enough to break.

“Can I confess something?” you ask, suddenly braved by an idea to prove that you do trust him.

Yangyang stops fucking you, his fingers flexed still. He scans your face for an actual lie but knows that he will never find one, mostly because he already knows the next few words out of your mouth; he has felt the same way for months. And maybe, at this point, he owes you some explanation, for keeping his own confession unspoken. He wants to give it to you first, before your own declaration. It is something that he thinks he should do, like a societal norm for the guy to confess – that is what all the romantic movies say, right? Well, there is Princess Leia and Han with their whole I love you and I know dynamic, and while that was really cool in the scene, Yangyang has a fixed scenario in his head.

“I love you,” he blurts, quickly, sitting up.

“You love me?”

His heart drops. You are not supposed to surprised. He was nearly 100% confident that you had fallen in love with him, too, but this might confirm that so much was in his head. You keep staring at him, jaw slacked and hands on his shoulders. Only when he starts pulling away do you react, catching his hand.

“I really like you,” Yangyang reiterates, self-pouring salt into his bleeding heart. He hesitates for a second, unsure if he should even be vulnerable again, but what does he have to lose? “I –“ He swallows, still looking into your eyes – “I love you.”

Then you kiss him.

And he lets you kiss him.

He lets you kiss him because of the way you cradle his face, like he is made of glass, like he is the most precious crystal that you have to protect. Your lips get softer when he wets them with his tongue, after feeling confidence in your embrace. You kiss him in a way that takes away the word the love, wrapping him in a security blanket to return the warmth.

“I love you,” you whisper slowly, barely audibly enough for him to hear it over the smack of your tongue as you lower to him. You pause, mouth slightly ajar on his. “Too.”

Yangyang peers at your closed eyes, almost willing you to open them so he can tell you, again, that he loves you, so he can see your reaction when he really tells you. He grabs your face and sits up again. You roll your head to the side, like you anticipate his kiss. He gives it you, simultaneously returning his hand into your pants.

“What time is it?”

“What?”

“What time is it right now?” Yangyang asks you with a sense of urgency.

You turn around, fumbling around for your phone, which is now somewhere mixed in your sheets. The two of you had spent a good ten minutes remaking the bed after the night you had, and currently, blankets are strewn across, folded into messy piles. With the thought distracting you, Yangyang slips two fingers past your underwear again, twisting the crotch area with his thumb for easier access. You pause, sighing heavily, hand bunching up the linen as he scissors you.

“I asked you a question,” he reminds you, slightly stuttering at the end, hesitant to add a term of endearment. Even with the confessions you both just gave, it does not define your relationship and he doesn’t know how to broach it just yet, only wanting to kiss you closely and hear all the love sounds that he feels deprived of.

“It’s 6:21.”

“Good,” Yangyang whispers in your ear as he prepares you to take him. “We have time.”

Yangyang redirects your face to his, tilting your chin up as he leans to the side, almost inhaling your lips. Upon another kiss, he adds his tongue, tired of the light pecks. They don’t express his affection as much as he wants, because small embraces end quicker, causing you to withdraw – which is the furthest desire from his mind, especially considering that he just confessed, multiple times. He curls his tongue, placing only the tip beyond your lips. You check him, trying to catch his tongue but merely snagging his spit. He smirks because you whine again. Was that not enough? Obviously not, he notes after you pull back, breathing on his lips, making him chase you. Your breath sounds rapid and rough, and he wants to alleviate your nerves. Yangyang extends his neck again, craning to meet your lips. He gives you a second to recover, to prepare, panting the faintest ghost kisses across your lower face. Your hand comes above his shaking heart, stopping there as you bite your lip coyly. He wonders if you want to stop. Both of you just acknowledged a lingering more-than-friends adoration.

But then you slide your hand under his chin, making him really look at you.

“I love you,” you repeat.

The repet!tion exceeds his own confession, and he isn’t sure whether to confess again, but you take the initiative for him, rocking side to side like ridin’ d!ck bicycle. Yangyang parts his lips just enough to blow small, uneven breaths. He feels you open his jeans while shifting over one of his thighs, his fingers still trembling inside you. Sex with you always feels so reciprocated. Your nails graze his c.ock erect, your hand tightening at the tip, where you push your thumb on his pre-cum. It gives almost the same sensation as your tongue and the sensation gets more intense. He starts thrusting in tandem, making you clench, around his bicep, for support. When you start flicking the flesh on the underside of his penis (the part that connects the shaft to head), he stops your hand.

Yangyang comes forward, caressing your mouth and massaging your clit. “I’m gonna cum.”

“So cum,” you taunt him, smirking into the kiss.

Your resolve temporarily falters, dripping into a moan that he swallows up wholly. He keeps sinking his fingers at different depths, at a fast and shallow pace, waiting for you to reach the same point. You certainly feel wet enough. He touches that spongey tissue area in your p.ussy that has you seeing stars. You moan his name over and over again, until the two syllables become a tongue twister. He disentangles your tongue, using his own. All those years tying cherry stems in his mouth as a teenager really paid off. He starts making a come-hither gesture, simultaneously flirting with your lips. After your hand ceases, exclusively squeezing his base, right above his balls, Yangyang slows down, slipping his fingers away from your G-spot, up and over your clit, your orgasm weakening.

“Ugh,” you grumble.

“We have time,” Yangyang tells you, “to have sex.” He looks at you through his eyelashes, gradually lowering his head under your shirt, his shirt. After Monday, he wondered if you ever owned any shirts yourself, or if you donated all of them once you ‘discovered’ his closet. “Tell me you want it too.”

“I want you.”

He doesn’t know whether to clown you or flirt with you. The first option would make you laugh, but the second would get him laid. Luckily, you decide for him, shimming out of your jeans and panties, then you slide his pants down to his ankles. He wraps his hand around your throat, drawing you to his lips, and he unintentionally squeezes when you settle on the tip of his c.ock. As you ride him, your walls hug his d!ck nicely, giving it a nice tight feeling that he can’t help but moan at. You straighten your back to gain some height over him and slip your tongue in his mouth. His hands reach out to your ass, guiding your hips forward in waves. He starts breathing heavier and his grip gets stronger.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum.”

Yangyang kisses you, pulling your words into his mouth, “So cum.”

“Fuck.”

He chases after your high, under the guise of helping you ride out this orgasm, getting his d!ck to twitch deeply inside you. When his hold gets too firm, you whine, suddenly over stimulated. Your nails dig into his bicep roughly, barely soothed by the t-shirt he still wears. He thrusts asynchronously with you before coming undone and dragging you into his chest. You feel warm and sweaty in this post-sex glow, your hand and head resting on his chest. He traces little hearts on your inner wrist, not wanting to let you go completely.

“You need to stop picking my underwear if you’re just going to destroy them,” you joke, kissing him on the cheek. “I have to double wash these thongs you know.”

“Can we –“ Yangyang swallows a lump in his throat. He feels like he is pulling you impossibly close, even though you are not moving away. “Can we go back to that thing you were saying earlier?”

“Hmm?”

“The,” he pauses, indecisive whether he actually wants to bring everything up right now. He ultimately decides for it. “Part with the ‘I love you’?” He knows that his voice sounds smaller than normal and that his eyes are shifting nervously at yours, but he wants to hear it again, wants the validation.

“Right,” you understand, nodding your head equally slowly. You straddle his lap again, and he immediately balances you by the waist, wanting to keep that impossibly close distance. “I’m – I’ve fallen –“ You swallow, looking away, but he needs you to look at him. Because if you can’t say it to his face, how does he know that you’re not just saying it out of obligation? Thankfully though, you see to be on the same wavelength, returning to his eyes, and his breath hitches, abs shaking in anticipation. You confidently give him the sentiment, “I love you.”

Yangyang tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, watching the way his fingers finish, stroking along our cheekbone. “I know,” he whispers coolly, leaning into your ear. “It’s hard not to love me,” he changes the subject, “I’m the best.” You scoff and push his chest, but he fastens an arm around you as equally fast, smiling too wide. He is a little sorry, for ruining the moment, but his laugh isn’t convincing at all. “I love you too.”

Sex, you think, feels infinitely better once the weight was lifted off your chest, once the spoonful of love was added. And the way Yangyang keeps kissing you, absolutely obsessed with holding your waist, tells you that spoonful is a misnomer, too small. The measurement for an entire ocean might be a better description. Still though, you would never call describe sex as love making, especially not to his face. At that point, you would be faced with an ‘oh, my god; that’s disgusting, man’ – not that you mind entirely, because the teasing smile he uses is so, so important to you, and sex feels just like that – the love part, not the disgusting thing. Although, sometimes he can be quite disgusting, yanno. Ah, he just makes you want to skip class and stay in bed beside him all day.

Except, both of you know how bad of an idea that is, with midterms are right around the corner.

Despite that, he spends the night at your apartment again, staying up until 3AM even though he has abnormal psych at 8 on Thursdays.

“I need a study break.”

You roll the cover of your design textbook towards your spiral notebook and toss the pile onto the floor, kicking the blankets off your feet. Yangyang barely spares you a glance, too absorbed in his case study. It is the last of five, and he only has the results, psychometrics, and summary statement left to write for this one before he is completely done for the week. Similarly, you have an exam on Joseon architecture later today and you are a third of a chapter away from catching up on reading, but honestly, fortresses get annoying to look at, especially when you have to compare militia structures against lower-class housing. So, you infiltrate Yangyang’s personal bubble, sliding an arm over his hips and your head into his lap.

“Does this mean I have you join you?” he teases, already putting away his pens. He pushes all his study materials by his feet, never leaning too far up, to keep your head in place. It gets even more comfortable when he relaxes again, resting across the pillows. You close your eyes, melting, when he massages your scalp, like he immediately knows where every knot or corner of tension are.

“I would really appreciate it, if you joined me.” You sigh. His touch is heavenly, and it makes you tighten your arm over his pelvis.

Eventually, Yangyang goes back to his homework, this time reclining in a way that lets you curl into his side. And you aren’t actually asleep, just mildly daydreaming with your eyes shut, thinking about literally anything (Yangyang) other than structures. When he raises a book midair, in front of his face, you move positions, sprawling across his chest, leg coming between his thighs. You (purposefully) annoyingly stick your head under his cheek, to ensure that you, at least, moderately block some of the passage.

Yangyang giggles. “Am I officially joining you now?” He puts his papers on your nightstand and wraps an arm around your shoulders, luring you to his lips. Your leg slithers above the waistband of his joggers, and he helps you straddle him again, sinking into the mattress to get a good view of the way you look in his oversize hood, in only his oversized hoodie. “You’re clingier.”

“Than what?” you ask innocently, rubbing his shirt fabric along his chest. You start pouting, as a response to his silence. Does he not want to cuddle? You shake your head. No, he does, given the way he pushes up the hoodie and yanks you further up his lap. “We cuddle the same amount.” You lower toward his ear, holding his neck in place, and whisper, “Do you not want to? Because I can leave.”

Before you can even think about getting off, he kisses you, sitting up. “Don’t go.” His hands come under your ass, squeezing as your arms circle around his neck. “It’s just –“ He bites his lip, suppressing a whine, which you can feel clog his throat. “You can’t sit on my lap like this. I’m getting hard.”

“Again?” you taunt. He slaps your butt, rather harshly, leaving a warm tingling sensation that he kneads away. You grind into his touch and kiss up his neck. “We can try the Pomodoro method.” You blow into his ear, shakily, as his hand presses particularly rougher. “I’ll set a timer for 25-minutes.” You look at him with chaste, despite the way you are purposefully making his blood rush. His fingers move to the edge of the hood, lifting it slightly. “Think we can have fun in just 25 minutes?”

“Mmmhmm,” he agrees early, nodding his head forward to kiss you. You don’t let him meet you though, not that you think he really noticed, what with being distracted by your very naked legs. He slowly sits up, all the way, and you feel his d!ck twitch against your thighs.

“Or do you think we won’t be able to finish?”

Yangyang throws you onto the bed and removes his shirt in one fell swoop. “Bet?”

“Missionary?” you ask, almost sticking your tongue out at him. “You’re getting more vanilla.”

Yanygyang gasps, then whacks your butt. “Take that back!”

You prop yourself on your elbows, eying all the naked parts of him up and down, from his low waisted briefs to his well-defined pecs to the rather cross sulk on his lip. “Make me.”

“Don’t have to.” He takes away your smirk, displaying it across his face. You tilt your head to the left, expression slacking blankly, but you catch on, feeling his fingers outline your sides. He slips his thumb between your lips, pushing it slowly until you basically give him a finger job, like a preview to the actual head he wants. “You’re already prepped.”

Your eyes flicker up, purely, as if he is about to ruin you for the first time. It’s his favorite part whenever you blow him – you looking into his eyes, taking every inch of him. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, dragging your lip down until he lets go, your lips smacking together. You bite your lip, suddenly feeling empty, even though neither of you have really done anything yet. “Are you going to fuck me then?” Your voice sounds so harmless, now lacking the bite as you mentally anticipate his d!ck to stretch you open right now. He shakes his head, no. “So what –“

Yangyang spreads your legs a little wider, strictly, darting in the direction of your main bullseye point. His touches remain light and teasing, not getting there yet, responding to all the little mannerisms that make your lower body so rhythmic. He rubs a finger, swirling the ends of his movements to get your hips riding his digits. You whimper breathily, voice cracking at such a high pitch. He sweeps your bottom lip, pressing his tongue softly, making you wish that he would fuck you already. It is insanely evil, for him to give you a preview of the intense foreplay without actually doing it, barely giving you the imagery of it all. You clutch his shoulder, to steady him for a constant kiss and to actually get on his slender fingers. But he never lets you. Instead, he pulls you by your ass, one-handed, forcing you to roll your hips on the silhouette of his d!ck. Fuck, how can you even feel his c.ock? His joggers are so thick. He maintains the stupid, inhumane taunts, kissing the air between you two, caressing everywhere along your hole. A few minutes pass without him changing the routine, so you reverse the positions, throwing him on your mattress and straddling his lap like a stripper. And with almost the same level of experience, or confidence (you hope it’s confidence), you seesaw over his d!ck. He swiftly locks your arms around his neck and his behind your lower back, palming your ass. You look into his eyes for a second, then kiss him roughly, smashing your lips on his.

“You’re. So. Eager. Today,” he says, muddied by elongated spit noises. His eyes are flittered closed as he smiles smugly, accepting your style of manhandling. Your embraces are light and rapid, doing everything in your power to prevent him from straying too far. But his abs get too shaky, too firm, the familiar build up washing over him, so he has to pull away. When he does, you try chasing him and he brushes your hair behind your ear, slowly stroking your jugular vein like ticking baby hairs. “I love you.”

You smile. “I love you too.” You peck his lips, now sitting sticky on his lap. He looks so pretty, eyes glazed and lips slightly parted. You just have to kiss him again.

Yangyang bends your back to the comforter, guiding you by the throat, simultaneously pushing his pants mid-thigh, c.ock bouncing more freely. It slaps your p.ussy, naturally twitching aroused. He is so close that when he pumps himself a few strokes, his knuckles rasp along your clit and you buck your hips for more touches. You feel his wet tip run along your slit, and you just know that his hand locks above his balls, right around his base, ready to push in. But you stop him.

“Let me ride you,” you pant, slowly opening your eyes.

He nods his head enthusiastically, and you pop off his head. You turn around, back facing him as you take off the hoodie, leaning down to graze your n!pples on the blanket.

Yangyang wails. “That’s not fair. I want to see.” He takes off his pants, to be as equally naked.

You redirect his attention back to your p.ussy, using your first two fingers to pinch your clitoral hood and gently tug it up and down, over his d!ck as you back into him. He lets out a loud moan at the sight; it takes everything in him to not thrust, listening to your command ordering him to wait. You brush your hair over your shoulder again and look at him behind your shoulder, sultry. Your mood changes are so sexy. His body moves automatically, hunching over your spine to litter you with kisses, his hand trailing behind his saliva. You take that palm and put it on your t!t as you grind his c.ock between your ass cheeks, sliding it to the most sensitive nerves of your p.ussy. He aids your building orgasm with two fingers, leaning his metacarpal inside of your thigh to rub circles specifically under your nub.

“Oh my god,” you exhale, walls throbbing in a vacuum of emptiness, needy.

You sit up and push him onto the pillows by his chest, then reach behind to grab his c.ock erect. His breath thunders, encouragingly. He waits for you to do something, scanning your bare back for every little love bite and mark. You slowly descend and use your knees to bounce, ass swirling between his thighs. Your hips oscillate from outward jumping to figure eights, to rocking sideways. And his favorite position seems to be when you take all of him, gyrating shallowly, letting only about an inch leave your p.ussy before you slam back down on him. You mimic his slaps, taking your hand off his inner thigh to grip your ass, dragging your nails up, leaving a tingling sensation. He rolls his eyes to the back of his head, recording the moment in his brain forever, then slaps your jiggling flesh several times. This position gets his big c.ock deep within your p.ussy, causing his balls to bump against your labia. Then he starts thrusting with you, pounding his hips up.

“Fuck, Fuck, Yanygang. Mmhm.”

He copies your expletives, adding some bad girl’s and other lewd nicknames, before slamming with some finality. You think that he is about to cum, but he withdraws, making you whine sharply. Yangyang flips you onto your back, immediately attacking your chest. His hands support you like a wired bra and shakes them, pushing the pads of his thumbs into your sternum so that your hardened n!pples remain level with his mouth. He licks one lightly, circling around the areola, then latches on, sucking with his tongue flattened under your skin. You arch your back to him, drawing him close. He repeats the action on the other, but longer, as he pinches and kneads your b.oob.

“Come on my d!ck again, you dirty little girl,” he orders, voice low and hoarse.

“Then stop pulling out,” you whisper, similarly breathless.

“Okay.”

You lean away from him, supported with your hands on his thighs, spinning your hips in circles and side to side. His hands squeeze your waist, jostling you to his chest brutally.

“Don’t do that,” he growls, teeth barring before he kisses you again, croaking the moan in your throat. He drags you close, fingers digging into esophagus so that his tongue and reach inside.

Your grip scratches on his triceps, pink lines haunting his skin. You keep bouncing up and down, until his chokehold drops. His mouth falls open, releasing strings of curses after gasps. He spanks you hard, twice, then grips your ass, jerking it savagely. You change the motion, grinding in tiny, little, miniscule circles. Your thighs shiver, your entire body following. He rotates his d!ck, thrusting asynchronously. And you claw through his hair, tugging the strands rougher and rougher as your abdomen keeps tightening.

“Almost, almost,” you whimper. “I’m so close.”

Yangyang pulls your bottom lip with his teeth. “Me too.”

You begin slowing down, no longer able to bounce up and down, choosing to rock back and forth. Then, everything stops for just a second, your walls compressing his springy c.ock until you break. All of his muscles grate against you, making you feel each ridge and movement. He follows your orgasm, feeling the way you milk every drop out of him, sucking his entire length balls deep. Your whine sounds like a treble, harmonizing with his lower moan. And you two spend another moment in cowgirl position, collecting your breaths, basically fused together.

“I love you,” Yangyang repeats. Ever since yesterday morning, he has been throwing out the sentiment spontaneously whenever he can: during sex, after sex, while cuddling, in the middle of study dates, behind his cup of coffee at the physics café in the afternoon when no one else is nearby. He follows up with another confession, “I want more than 25-minutes.” And it catches you off guard, considering his previous statement and the other, in the midst of sex, or love making, as some people would call it.

“The 25-minutes is just for right now,” you reassure him, gently patting his cheeks. “We have to study. I still have part of a chapter left to read.”

“Then say it back.”

You pull his face to yours, brushing your noses together. “I love you,” you tell him slowly, enunciating every syllable.

“So, spend the night at my place tomorrow,” he requests. His arms come behind your lower back, his eyes pouting like a lamb.

“Of course,” you answer impulsively, immediately going to kiss him after. Then you pull away, stopping him on the shoulders. “Wait. You have roommates. You have six roommates.”

“Four,” he corrects you – Sicheng graduated last year and moved in with Yuta. “We’ll be fine. Dejun is going with Kun to some conference; I don’t remember what. Hendery is staying at an AirBnB before the EDM festival this weekend. Lucas is …” Yangyang bites his cheek, trying to recall his roomates’ schedules. “I think he’s going on a date. I don’t know, but he bought roses and they’re sitting in the fridge. And Renjun … Renjun …” Yangyang swallows. He almost forgot about the tidbit that he learned at the Halloween party last weekend.

“Renjun what?” you ask, pecking him lightly and chastely.

“Won’t be there either.” Yangyang stops you. “Can I ask you a serious question?”

You sense the serious tone and straighten up, clasping your hands around his neck. “What’s up?” you prod slowly.

“Did you really like him?” he questions so softly that you almost do not hear him. “Renjun?” he clarifies after you stay quiet (even though it was just a few seconds).

“Yeah,” you answer quietly, not entirely sure if you even want him to hear you, the ambience settling into something melancholier. “But I love you.”

It seems like he ignores you.

“Why didn’t you get with him?”

“You don’t mean that.”

You shake your head, pulling back, your eyes painfully dry. All the fuzzy spots from your orgasm earlier connect the dots in your head, and you wonder what this is, if he doubts you, doesn’t trust you.

But he agrees, “You’re right. I just … I mean, why are you with me instead?”

“Instead?” you ask. You come back to him – it’s always him, and you hold his face, making him look at you. “I’m not with you instead of Renjun. There’s no compet!tion. I love you,” you enunciate the confession again to really emphasize it.

“But –“

It doesn’t seem to stick. And you sigh with your entire body, slumping away from him. “Does it really bother you that much?” You shift around, biting your lip while his soft c.ock scrambles inside you. He meets your eyes this time, scanning your pupils for more reassurance. “You are kind and smart and hard-working and insanely talented, and … and I love you.” He stays quiet, and you almost throttle him, needing a bit of affection too. “Say it back,” you beg, differently from minutes ago. You drop your forehead on his shoulder. “Please.”

Yangyang seems to understand and reciprocates, “I love you too.”

You pull yourself to face him and beam, mirroring his tender gummy smile. Then, you kiss him again, toppling him into the pillows. He rolls you over, causing you to giggle loudly as he peppers small bites along your cheeks, across your nose, and whispers the same confession on loop.

“I love you,” he ends, kissing you deeply. He comes up for air, inhaling sharply. “So, stay the night with me tomorrow – tonight. At my place.” He brushes your hair away from your face, to get a better look at the sweet glaze in your eyes. You think that you fall in love a little more, especially with all his domestic acts.

“Okay,” you agree.

“Okay,” he repeats. “Okay.” He nods his head, smiling wider, if possible, and kisses you over and over and over again.

Funny thing about Fridays: Yangyang doesn’t have a morning class, doesn’t have class at all actually; meanwhile, you have another art history class, at eight. The damn class is 90-minutes, so it is held three times a week. His lectures, you recall bitterly, go on for 2-3 hours each, granting him the three day weekend that every college student desires, pushing his classes to the first four business days of the week. That means he can stay up all night Thursday to Saturday, gaming for long hours into the night – not that you get to see it often, because when you do stop by the frat house, you spend time with anyone else. And usually, someone is visiting at the same time. You know, you write yourself into Xiaojun and Sicheng’s pool compet!tion, or watch moves with Lucas, but tonight (really morning, considering that it is 1 A.M.), you sit with Yangyang in his wide gaming chair, thumbing at The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild (BotW) while he plays Overwatch with Haechan and Jeno. Thankfully, you don’t have any major assignments due later or any in-class presentations, so you can just curl up next to your boyfriend and pull an all-nighter, stealing snacks and drinks from his new mini-fridge so that you can avoid accidentally bumping into one of his roommates. Although, you Uber’ed to his place with a box of friend chicken and side dishes.

After the same gold lynel kills of Link for the third time in a row (the one in the Hebra region, outside the shrine, that has a sword you want), you lazily toss the controller onto his desk. Dying again and again gets frustrating, and you need to relieve the buzz. So, you turn to Yangyang, who looks to be in the middle of a campaign (is that what his levels are called?), and start asking him questions about his video game. Like, you know how sometimes people get so desperately horny that they ask their partner to explain Overwatch to them? Yeah, that is exactly how this feels, as Yangyang’s distracted voice describes his location and next move. And it is no wonder that he is a psych major – he is good at communication.

“What does that character do?” you whisper-ask, while the screen refreshes after he wins a battle.

“That’s an attacker.”

“A huh,” you nod along. You vaguely know what that means, based on the t!tle and all your years of the Club Penguin Card Jitsu game. “And that one?”

Yangyang removes his headset to around his neck and faces you, grinning sideways. “Are we sharing interests right now?” He pushes your legs apart, then straddles you over his thigh. His desk separates you and the game, pressing a fine line between the bones in your spinal cord. He turns the microphone down, muting himself from his friends. It is one thing for the two of you to be alone in the frat house and another for his close friends to physically hear you in his arms. “Or are you just needy for my attention?” Yangyang pulls one hand on your skin, rubbing small soothing circles. “That’s a sign of a relationship, you know.” He leans into your ear, whispering, “Like a date.”

You push him against the chair cushions, scrunching your nose at his laughter. “As if we haven’t done that already,” you say sarcastically, rolling your eyes for emphasis.

“What?” he asks. “Go on a date?”

You nod your head. Neither of you really call these types of things dates, but they are. Sometimes you also hang out in public, alone, maybe holding hand or kissing, even though lately it seems like you stay inside and study and have sex all the time. Actually, there is a rave going on this weekend with one of your favorite DJs – one shared equally by the two of you. You have yet to invite Yangyang, but now seems like a good time.

“You don’t really care about my games,” he pouts, “Do you?”

“I’m sorry,” you agree, pouting with him. “I don’t speak nerd.”

Yangyang gasps, sitting up straighter. “It’s not a nerd thing! It’s a game of strategy!”

You shake your head, still not understanding. “I don’t speak virgin either.”

He slaps your ass. “We both know that isn’t true.”

“Am I supposed to be the virgin, in this scenario?”

“Are you becoming a born-again virgin?”

You shrug. “What would you do if I did?” You completely straddle his lap, scooting up his thighs until his d!ck sits at attention between your abdomens, and you whisper in his ear, “Would you leave me?” You bite his ear, softly licking the external side then blowing on it. “Would you ruin me? Take it away?”

“Virginity is a social construct,” he reminds you, growling. He slips his hands into your underwear. “I’ll ruin you right now.”

Except, another round on his game loads, and you find yourself leaning onto his shoulder opposite the microphone so that he can play, despite the insane wetness soaking your underwear right now. Then, two more games go by and you want his attention. He asked you to stay the night with him, and this doesn’t necessarily feel like that. So, you get off his lap, slithering down his legs onto the ground, onto your knees.

First, you untie his pants and spring his d!ck out. It’s not difficult, because (1) he has pyjama bottoms on, and (2) he manspreads like a motherfucker, giving you easy access. Then, the blow job starts. You lick your palm a couple times and angle his tip in your mouth, starting soft. His legs tense momentarily, making you consider stopping, but a hand appears, pushing you halfway down his length.

“You look so pretty down there, angel.”

He obviously did not actually look at you; you know because he usually makes eye contact when he is close to cumming, enjoying the way your eyes glass over. And because his keyboard continues clicking.

You continue on that way – keeping one hand squeezed halfway down his d!ck; hollowing your cheeks, adding extra suction all over his tip; flattening your tongue on the underside and rolling it like sushi at the very top. Despite his d!ck being fully erect in your mouth, his attention is less than enthusiastic, fingers working diligently on those numbers. It gives you an idea. You start bobbing your head faster, in tune with his typing, egged on by his compet!tiveness. And when his voice goes up an octave, your grip gets tighter, only slacking when you drop back down halfway. His groan echoes in your ear, sounding like he lost (whatever that means), so you pull off. He breathes a little bit harder after the smacking sound falls from your lips, preceding all the fluttering little kisses down his shaft. You hold his d!ck up and lick one stripe up between his balls, and he shouts at his friends:

“Alright! I’m done for the night. Play tomorrow. Bye!”

Yangyang pulls you to your feet, standing with you. He scans your eyes, pulling you closer and closer, debating whether to kiss you or not; he never really kisses you after you suck his d!ck, unless he eats you out too.

“Bed now,” he orders you in whispers, patting your butt a little too hard. You fall onto his queen-sized mattress stomach down, bouncing with his fluffy duvet. He kneels next to you, lifting his sweater off your thighs and spanking you again, three times. Each smack precedes a loud, high-pitched gasp. “You’re so needy.”

“Fuck,” you mutter at a particularly hard hit, his hand slipping to the wet p.ussy lips that need some friction. “Is that a bad thing?”

A door shuts loudly down the hall, making you two straighten up in attention. You prop yourself forward on your elbows, staring at the door. Yangyang watches your reaction, his ears alert and back facing the door. You hear Hendery walking up the stairs, something jangling with him, like keys or plates. A second pair of feet march with him, making you look at Yangyang. He shrugs his shoulders, shaking his head; he thought everyone was going to be gone this weekend, which does not apparently start on Fridays for his roommates.

“You’re going to need to be quiet,” he whispers. This is nothing new. The two of you constantly fuck, like rabbits, regardless if anyone can hear you, but Hendery is two rooms down and Yangyang is sliding two fingers knuckle deep until hitting the urethral sponge. His curling has your thighs tensing to the point of shaking. As he settles between your legs (not letting up on the pressure), he taps your sternum twice, telling you to keep still and quiet.

But you moan. It just comes out, not something that you can control. Especially when he nips all around your clit, lip biting at your skin and sucking small bruises. He keeps going like this, nodding his head for more vibrations everywhere except the most sensitive spot. Your breath gets more labored, breaking loudly.

“You need to be quieter,” he reminds you.

“Mmm, I can’t. You’ll have to move slower.”

Yangyang speeds up his fingers. “Not a chance.” He swipes his thumb across your clit once, then twice, then harder, giving it a little pinch. “Even if you cum, I’m still going.”

You whine, disagreeing. “Mmm mmm, you can’t say things like that. Fuck –“ He starts crawling over your body, peppering light touches along your stomach, around your b.oobs, above your collarbone. “- I want to cum.” You mewl, again frustrated, because he pulls his fingers out. He gestures you to shush, putting them in your mouth. With his hands occupied around your face and throat, his d!ck jostles, sliding between your p.ussy lips without actually entering. “Please,” you beg, “I want to cum so bad.”

“Ugh,” Yangyang moans in your ear, this time guiding himself inside your warm and aching hole. “I know,” he tells you. “I can feel it.” He rotates onto his side, propping up one of his legs to get into an easier position where he can pound you better. You grab one of the pillows, briefly arresting it with your nails acting like handcuffs before settling it under your oblique. The new angle puts Yangyang right back at your G-spot, his tip abusing the sponge harshly. “You’re milking my c.ock, huh? You’re – You want me so bad, huh?”

“Mm hmm, yeah,” you agree. His gaze fixates on the way your ass claps against his pelvis. He doesn’t even have to lead you anymore; you start backing up on him, motivated the rougher he tugs your hair. “Please, please,” you chant in whispers. He spreads your cheeks, obsessed with the disappearing act you pull, needing to see it more.

“Fuck,” he groans. He cups your b.oob off the mattress, supporting the other one with his arm, and pinches at your n!pple, swirling it around between his thumb and index finger. “Come on, pretty girl. You need to cum?” You nod your head fervently, face warming intensely. “So, cum on my c.ock. You can do it; come on.” He drops your chest for your neck, pushing your head into the blankets so he can kiss you again, incoherently vibrating broken praises on your lips.

“Yangyang, Yangyang, I’m – I’m – Harder, please. I’m so – Oh, fuck.”

He moans your name seconds after, spilling into your pulsating core, and relaxes, chest falling into an equilibria rhythm with yours. His c.ock softens, finishing its workout, so you swing your leg away from him and spin around, placing a hand on his chest. You stare at him for a little bit, like watching the sun set. He peaks an eye open, then closes it quickly, teasing you because he knows that you saw it.

“You’re going to get cross-eyed staring at me,” Yangyang jokes.

“Then let me get cross-eyed,” you counter, slithering an arm under his head like a neck cushion.

“That’s disgusting.”

You scoff, pulling on the ends of his hair. “You’re disgusting.”

He smacks your butt lightly. It is definitely his favorite punishment. “And you can call it a kink, fyi.” He opens his eyes in time to see you pout, and in return, he pecks your lips, pulling away just as fast.

You look over his shoulder at the time: 2 A.M. and bury your face in his chest. “We need to stop sleeping so late. My body can’t handle this.”

“My body can handle yours.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, even though he would not be ready to go again, at least for twenty minutes.

You chew on your lip a little bit, then repeat a post-sex tradition (well, it has essentially become a tradition this week). “Can I ask you a question?”

Yangyang kisses your shoulder, wrapping a leg around yours to keep you locked nearby. “Of course, anything.”

“Do you want to go to the rave with me, this weekend?”

“Like,” he processes, still hidden the crevice of your neck, “as in a date?” He lays across your arm, and you notice the glint in his eye. “Are you asking me out? I was supposed to do that!”

“Oh?” you return the tease. “We can just not go then, and I’ll wait for you to ask me out.” You start getting up, but he drags you back down, tugging specifically on your hand. He kisses you as a confirmation that yes, he wants to go; he wants nothing more than to go on a real date with you.

[that-sw-writer]

p l e a s e write a drunkkylo x reader id love u forever

I am SO GLAD you requested this, thank u for giving me an excuse to write it!

Also I was loving the concept of a Knight of Ren!reader and Kylo so seriously might explore this for a mini-fic in the future.

PART TWO | MASTERLIST

Summary: When a mission to Zeffo requires an overnight stay, the Knights of Ren can only find liquor for dinner.

With you and your leader making eyes at each other, chaos is bound to ensue.

Word count: 2664

Warnings: heavily implied sexual content, drunk sex, alcohol consumption, reader is a Knight of Ren

Intoxicated

It had been a long day.

The Knights of Ren had been on the trail of a Sith artefact, one which Kylo Ren was so desperate to get his hands on that he had actually joined the mission.  It had been a long time since Master Ren had even trained with you all, let alone come on a mission with you.

The mission had led you to a small settlement on the planet Zeffo, but with night falling and everyone losing energy, Kylo had eventually caved and told you all to find somewhere to stay for the night.  Since the Empire had raided the planet years ago, it was largely deserted which meant that there were plenty of abandoned homes.  Most them were small, which meant that you weren't all going to fit into one.  Sure, you had all crammed into tighter spaces, but there was no need to tonight considering just how many empty homes there were.

You all eventually found four homesteads in a row, each enough to house two people.  Between the seven knights and the Supreme Leader you had enough to pair off and stay in twos.  You gathered in the living area of one of the homes, everyone raiding the cupboards for something to eat, but all you could find that wasn't majorly outdated was a lot of unidentifiable liquor.

None of you had any quarrels about who would stay with who.  They were your brothers, and none of you were at all uncomfortable around each other - although all of you silently knew that Master Ren would be the least fun person to bunk with.  Since becoming Supreme Leader he had distanced himself from you all.  Whereas he had once laughed along with you, these days he was much more stoic.  But that wasn't to say that any of you felt awkward around him - you knew how much he cared for you all, even if he didn't outwardly show it.

"Looks like it's a liquid dinner."  Trudgen stated, passing bottles around to everyone.  Kylo momentarily attempted to refuse, but he quickly succumbed to peer pressure from all of you.

Everyone had removed their helmets and outer armour to get more comfortable.  The interior of the homesteads was slightly dusty, but it was far nicer than many of the places you had stayed over the years.

You sat down on the floor between Cardo and Ushar, taking the smallest swig to taste-test the liquor.  It was sweet, with only the slightest burning sensation as it slipped down your throat.  You could hold your drink just as well as your brothers, but you were definitely the worst when it came to suffering from a hangover.  You silently vowed not to get too wasted, otherwise you'd be in a whole lot of trouble in the morning.

As Zeffo's sun set, you all exchanged your usual small talk, exchanging memories of the past.  But eventually the topic turned to pointless drinking games, which you all indulged in.  Except Kylo, who had been all but silent up until now as he took intermittent  sips from his bottle.

It was a stupid game, but one which you always seemed to end up playing when you all drank together.  You went around the circle asking each other admittedly probing questions, and if you didn't want to answer, you would have to drink.  The idea was that the more you refused to answer, the more drunk you would get, which in turn meant that you would definitely become more willing to answer.

"Ap'lek, is it true that you've been eyeing up that medic who's been attending our training sessions?"  You asked, a smirk on your lips.  You were undeniably feeling a bit tipsy, but you were certainly holding it together.

"No."  He immediately scoffed.

"You're such a liar."  Trudgen snorted from beside him, and everyone else agreed.  It was so obvious when one of you wasn't telling the truth, you all simply knew each other too well.

"Fine, Y/N how about you and that Captain who seems to follow you around like a lost puppy?  Don't tell me you haven't got your eye on him."  Ap'lek threw your question back in your face, and you let out an obnoxious laugh, but before you could rightfully deny this, Kylo spoke for the first time.

"Which Captain?"  He snorted, and just judging by his tone you could tell he was starting to feel the effects of the liquor.  His sudden interjection took you all aback, and your brow furrowed momentarily in confusion.

"Captain Buckley," Vicrul jumped in, "everywhere Y/N goes, he also seems to go."

Kylo leaned forward at this, a challenging smirk crossing his lips, "and you like him?"

You knew that the answer was no, but part of you saw this as an opportunity for mischief.  If Master Ren suddenly decided to be invested because a random Captain had a crush on you, it wouldn't hurt to keep him involved in the game.

With a smirk matching his own, you brought your bottle to your lips and took a long drink, not breaking eye contact with Kylo as you did.  He simply slowly sat backwards, his eyes not leaving yours.

Everyone's gazes darted between the two of you, and the rising tension was catching everyone's attention.  Normal people would have avoided this elephant in the room, but not the knights, you all loved to wind each other up - and Master Ren was no exception to that.

"Master Ren..." Cardo was the first to boldly address a question to Kylo in this game.

"Go on."  He prompted, seemingly drunk enough to play along now.

"Given the choice, who would you stay with tonight?"  The answer seemed obvious to everyone in the room, even to you given the way Kylo kept staring at you.

He brought the bottle to his lips seemingly about to avoid the question, but he paused at the last moment and lowered it.  "Y/N.  She pisses me off the least."  There was a playful tone to his comment, but it didn't dampen the fact that he had chosen you.

"I'm honoured to be your choice by default."  You replied with a snarky remark.  

From there the questions only got more and more personal, the knights all questioning each other about people they may or may not have hooked up with recently, and even Kylo got involved in grilling his knights.

The knights were all flirts, you included.  Spending that much time around the boys made their energy rub off on you, although for some reason your beer goggles had decided that tonight that flirtatious energy was going to be directed at Kylo.

"Master Ren, do you ever hook up with people?"  You no-so-innocently asked, taking another sip of your own drink.  So much for not getting too drunk...

Even in their own drunken states, everyone looked a bit shocked at your bold question, but equally they were intrigued about the answer.

Kylo narrowed his eyes at you, he knew the angle you were playing so he indulged it.  Just not in the way anyone expected.  Rather than answering or drinking, he exhaled a long sigh.

"I think it's time we called it a night."  He said, "big day tomorrow."  Without another word he rose to his feet and walked into the bedroom, which was just behind a nearby blast door.

"Um okay, looks like you're staying here Y/N."  Trudgen concluded as they all rose to their feet and began to file out, Cardo clapping you on the shoulder as he walked past.

"What?"  You spluttered, "we never decided on who's bunking with who!"  You protested.

"I think Master Ren made it pretty clear that you're staying with him."  Ushar smirked at you, "the rest of us will work it out as we go along."

"We'll see you in the morning."  With another teasing grin, your fellow knights all left, and you inhaled a deep breath.

Draining the remaining contents of your liquor bottle for liquid courage, you walked through the blast door that Kylo had gone through moments ago.

The room was small, and there was only one large bed.  Usually this wouldn't be an issue, but tonight you could have cut the sexual tension between you and Kylo with a knife... something you had never really experienced.

When Kylo emerged from the refresher, he was shirtless.  Again, usually this wasn't an issue, but tonight you properly looked at him for the first time.  Maker he was built like a brick wall, dotted with cuts and scars, some fresh and some old - similarly to how you were scarred.

"Were you just planning on standing there and staring all night?"  He asked, nonchalantly.  He never normally spoke this openly, hell, any other day he would probably scold you for staring at him and flirting with him.  But alcohol does funny things to people.

Taking the hint you slowly nodded and began to strip yourself of your remaining layers of clothing.  Usually just your undershirt was good enough for sleeping in.

"Yes, by the way.  I used to."  He suddenly spoke, causing you to turn around and face him.

"Used to what?"  You asked, brow furrowed.

"Your question.  You asked if I ever hook up with people."  He reminded you, and you found your heart beginning to race.

"Right... but you don't anymore?"  You raised an eyebrow, slowly walking towards him.

"Being Supreme Leader doesn't leave me much time."  His eyes were clearly swimming a bit, "besides, I just couldn't seem to find the right person."

Through all the years you had known Kylo Ren, you had never heard him be so open.  Perhaps the phrase 'drunk words are sober thoughts' really did apply to him.

"And in the eyes of the mighty Kylo Ren, what makes for the right person?"  You quietly asked, now standing right before him - only the smallest gap between you both.

He didn't reply at first, he just smirked at you, his eyes occasionally flicking down to your lips.  "I'm not sure yet, but you could always try and show me."  He eventually said.

"What a line."  You snorted, teasing him, but rather than telling you to shut up he just closed the gap between you and finally released some of that drunken sexual tension that had been building all evening.

Neither of you did much talking from there, it was more a case of clothes being torn away, you being thrown onto the bed, and Kylo showing you possibly the best night of your life - but you would never tell him that.  It would make him far too smug.

When you eventually did both go to sleep, Kylo had his arm loosely slung over your waist but you barely had any time to rest.  The sun rose only a few mere hours after you had shut your eyes, and the light was only exasperating the headache you woke up with.

It took you a second to adjust to your surroundings, your brain slowly reminding you of what had happened.  You had stayed overnight on Zeffo with the knights, and there had been no food for dinner, so you all just aimlessly drank liquor to pass the hours.  Then Master Ren had started flirting with you, and then... oh.

You slowly turned around, but the other half of your bed was empty.  Perhaps it had all just been a crazy dream?  It would certainly make things less awkward this morning if it had been, although judging by the fact that you had no clothes on beneath the thin covers, that wasn't looking likely.

Slowly getting up, you ignored the dull ache in your head as you searched for some clothes to put on.  You eventually found your underwear and a top to pull over your head - it was large enough for you to wear as a dress, so you figured it must have belonged to Kylo.  But it would do temporarily until you could find him and then you could both locate the rest of your clothes,

When you stepped out of the bedroom, he was the first thing you saw.  Wearing only a pair of trousers - presumably the ones he usually wore with his tunic.  You cleared your throat awkwardly to get his attention, and he looked up at you.

"You're awake."  He pointed out.

"Just about."  You stifled a yawn as you spoke, "where did you get the food?"  You suddenly asked, spotting what was in Kylo's hand - it looked like fruit, and it looked delicious.  Although, considering you hadn't eaten in many hours, anything looked delicious right now.

"Where did you get my shirt?"  He mimicked your words and tone, a small smirk settling on his lips.  Despite now being sober, he was still acting a lot looser around you - and you liked that.

"It was all I could find on the floor."  You shrugged.  You were relieved that this exchange wasn't awkward, if anything you seemed to be talking more casually with him now than you ever had.

"I'll need to wear that later."  He was clearly flirting with you, so you decided to go along with it.

"Then I guess you'll have to take it off me."  You were on your way to boldly make a move on him.  The sex had been amazing, so if there was time you didn't see why you couldn't go for round two, but you stopped dead in your tracks when you heard a throat being cleared from the other side of the room.

Kylo just smirked down at you, "the boys found the food and were nice enough to bring us some."  He simply said, before leaning down to whisper in your ear, "but when this mission is done we can finish that discussion."

Turning around painstakingly slowly you had to awkwardly grin at all of your brothers, who all just stood with smug and mocking smirks plastered across their faces.  You had really hoped to keep this a secret, but secrets between the knights were non-existent for a reason.

"Sleep well?"  Ushar asked, clearly teasing you.

"Actually yes, I did thanks."  You shrugged, trying to act nonchalant.

"We have a lead on the artefact, so maybe you should go and get changed.  Like Master Ren said, he'll need his shirt back."  Trudgen then jumped in to ridicule you a bit, and you admittedly did suddenly feel embarrassed.

"This isn't going away anytime soon."  You grumbled under your breath as you walked back into the bedroom, Kylo just smirking as he watched.

"Nope."  The knights all said in unison, their smugness still evident.

And of course they were right.  After dressing and eating some of that mysterious looking fruit, you all set out, and throughout the day you were subjected to the smallest digs every now and then.  Kylo didn't seem to mind, in fact he seemed to find them so funny that he even made his own jokes at your expense.

"It's freezing in here."  You had grumbled as you all trekked through an icy cavern.

"I'm sure Master Ren wouldn't mind warming you up."  Cardo snorted, causing the others to also snicker.

"So help me Cardo, I will choke you to death."  You said through chattering teeth.

"Careful, she's into that."  Kylo breathed a laugh, everyone else letting out cackles.

"You are such a-" you were about to scold your own leader when he wrapped his cape around your shoulders for extra warmth and gave you a strong pat on the shoulder as he overtook you to lead the group.

Despite the relentless teasing you suffered, and would likely continue to suffer until the day you died, it was all worth it when you were back from your mission and into the warm.  You had 'innocently' gone to return Kylo's cloak to him, and spent the first of many nights there.

Sneaking out in the morning was going to have to become second nature...  Not that you could ever hope to keep it a secret from the rest of the knights.

[aotopmha]

Okay, I hate the Mikasa looking like a dude complaint so much because it comes from the stupid attitude that women have to look or act a certain way or have certain interests to be "real women". It's an attitude that enforces the shitty societal standards that are pushed on women (in this case about how you gotta look like a pretty doll, nevermind if you're one of the strongest soldiers in the military).

Often this also means women gotta conform to what dudes want in a woman.

But I also hate it because Mikasa is otherwise a pretty feminine character.

She's the motherly protective figure to everyone around her. The momfriend.

Much of her depth is in her relationship to the main male character.

So this stuff really is the most superficial thing ever because it has very literally nothing to do with her character, which by all means should be the stereotype (generally guys) want her character to be.

It's all 100% character design because this shit started the moment her character design changed.

It's interesting for me to compare her to Final Fantasy 7's Tifa, whose character is actually similarly motherly, but everyone also complained about not having big enough boobs (although they are, the designers just decided to have them look like actual big boobs) and, of course, most of the talk around her character is about boobs (I consumed the story of FF7 first with the remake, and I was pretty surprised to learn she was actually a really cool character that wasn't just her boobs and the fanservice aspect actually wasn't that bad).

Tifa and Aerith in general are super cool subversions of some typical tropes.

So yeah, this is extra obnoxious to me because it really is that shallow.

[wylanvnneck]

This 2 part fic was written for the Secret Snusband Gift Giveaway hosted by @jurdannet​ and @jurdannetrevels​ for my lovely Knife Wife @lilacs-with-lavender​.

Rating: T for Tyrannosaurus

Summary: Inspired by an episode of my favourite Cop TV show, ‘Castle’, in which a bet takes place with pretty high stakes, although the plotline has been tweaked to fit this fandom. My Knife Wife said she loved the Enemies to Lovers trope so that’s what I’ve (tried to) write here and I hope you enjoy the story of Homicide Detectives Jude Duarte and Cardan Greenbriar and their mutual enmity.

Warnings: Not so graphic descriptions of murder and mention of drugs. (Really not sure what I need to tag, so please let me know if I’ve missed something.)

Posted as a Gift on AO3 | Part 2 | Masterlist

Part 1

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“Victim’s name is Taryn Santorini, a metal sculptor by trade, she was found by her doorman fifteen minutes before we traced the address in Chloe’s hand back to her.” 

Detective Jude Duarte looks down at the motionless face of a scared looking brunette, a crimson splatter painting the tiled floor around her lifeless body. The room around her is a mess, clothes scattered everywhere, bed ruffled and unmade and metal figurines placed haphazardly throughout the little apartment.

“Lil, talk to me, what are we looking at?”

Before the white-blonde haired medical examiner crouched on the floor by the body can answer, a smooth dark voice that Jude so detests cuts through the air behind her.

“Why, Duarte, I’d say that the fact that Tara What’s-her-name was shot and killed is rather obvious.” The despicable excuse of a detective steps forward, a smug grin pasted to his face. Cardan Greenbriar, entitled little rich boy, over-confident bastard and sadly, her partner.

Patience, Jude reminds herself, patience was a virtue. 

“I meant, as I’m sure Lil knows, with what model was she killed and when?”

Liliver shoots her an amused sympathetic look before turning her gaze back to the victim.

“Looks to be a gun with a 45 caliber, same as the one used to kill Chloe Tatterfell. I’d say Taryn here has been dead for about 12 hours so pretty close to Chloe’s time of death, maybe just a half hour or so afterwards.”

“So chances are it’s the same killer.” Cardan interjects, the smug smile a little less vibrant now. 

“Yep. I’ll have to get her back to the morgue so  I can do a full inspection, see if I can find anything helpful.”

Jude steps back from the crime scene to give her some space, almost bumping in to the officer taking pictures of the area for later use. 

“Thanks, Lil.”

“Just doing my job, sweetie.”

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Jude clips a glossy picture of their latest victim onto the precinct’s murder board. “Garrett and Van questioned practically all known associates of both Chloe and Taryn and none of them could recognise the other victim. There’s no obvious connection between the two and yet, for some reason they were both killed on the same day, by the same person.”

“And with the same gun.” Cardan is leaning back in his chair, his posture insouciant and his curly black hair falling lazily over his forehead. Surely that was a violation of precinct dress codes? Not that he’d care either way, rule breaker that he was. God knew it was only because of his daddy’s clout that he’d even graduated from the academy in the first place, whilst people like Jude had to work hard and save every penny and fight to get anywhere in the field of Law Enforcement.

“Ok, I’m going to head to the morgue whilst Van and Gare check through the victim’s phones and financials, see if Lil has anything for us.”

“I suppose, being the dutiful partner that I am, I should come with you?” Cardan’s drawl is as irritating as usual and Jude can hardly wait to get out of the proximity of his stupid raven locks and smoldering eyes.

“Please, you’d be doing us both a favour if you didn’t.”

“Aw, come now Jude you know you’d miss me.” He lets out a dramatic sigh as he half heartedly stands from his chair to join her as she speeds by towards the exit and she just barely resists the urge to throttle him.

Lil bustles around her examining room as she adjusts the fluorescent lamps shining down on both the victim’s bodies’. 

“So, apart from the type of bullets that killed them, the only similarity that I could find between the two victims is the fact that they both have tattoos.”

Jude raises a brow. “Everyone has tattoos.”

From across the autopsy table Cardan’s eyes gleam as he smirks. 

“Oh really? You got some ink on you, Duarte?” 

His tone is disbelieving and Jude can’t resist messing with him a little.

She pastes an obviously fake flirtatious smile on her face and drawls in a sugar sweet voice, “Guess you’d have to find that out on your own, Greenbriar.” 

She bites at her lip for good measure and thinks once more of how bad she would be at flirting in earnest. Lil certainly couldn’t keep the laughter out of her gray eyes. Cardan, however, has a strange look on his face, one that Jude can’t quite decipher, but she’s pretty sure she’s just one-upped him and she can’t deny the slight sense of triumph that the thought gives her.

 She turns her attention back to the victims. “You were saying, Lil?” 

“I’m saying that these tattoos seem to have been done by the same artist. Look,” she pulls back the white cloth covering the body of Chloe Tatterfell, gently pushing a strand of brown hair off of her shoulder to reveal the cartoonish character of a rose, inked in with dark black ink.

She then turns to Taryn’s body to reveal a similarly styled tattoo of a mermaid on her wrist. Just as she’s pulling back the cover Jude’s back pocket vibrates and the sound of her plain ringtone travels through the air. Quickly she swipes upwards to answer the call and it’s Garrett.

“Yo, so we looked through the victims’ phone records and found a connection. Both Chloe and Taryn made a phone call on the day that they were killed to the same number, belonging to a Locke McCutchins, he’s got priors including robberies and domestic assault.”

By the time he’s finished speaking she’s already waved a quick goodbye to Lil and turned to walk out the door, not bothering to check if her partner was behind her.

“Alright, text me his address, let’s go pick him up.”

“Locke McCutchins, open up, it’s the NYPD!” Garrett bangs on the door and the force is so strong that the wood vibrates as Jude clutches her pistol in her hand, body flat against the wall of Locke’s apartment with Cardan right beside her.

There’s no answer and the door is broken down as she, Cardan, Garrett and Van file into the room in a practiced motion that’s as familiar to her as breathing.

Right in front of them, sprawled across his couch, lies the dead body of Locke McCutchin, his tawny eyes still open and gazing unseeingly up at his ceiling, a dried red patch visible on his shirt.

Garret drops to the floor beside the couch, his sandy hair falling over his face as he leans over to check Locke’s pulse whilst the rest of them look on after having taken note that the apartment was clear.

“Body’s cold, he’s been dead for hours, entry wound looks to be about the same size as the other victims.”

Jude scrunches her eyebrows as she stands in front of the murderboard for the second time that day.

“So, Chloe Tatterfell, Taryn Santorini and Locke McCuchins were all killed within the span of 24 hours, all with the same gun, presumably by the same killer and yet so far the only connections we’ve found are Taryn’s address that was found written on Chloe’s hand, the phone call from both women to Locke and the similar tattoos on both Chloe and Taryn, but not on Locke.”

“Hmm.” Cardan seems to materialise out of nowhere, carrying a paper cup of what smells like freshly brewed coffee. Jude was convinced that he took his coffee with added alcohol but she had yet to prove it.

“What’s with the glare?” he asks.

“It automatically deploys itself when you're around.”

He scoffs. Twirls his coffee around. Takes a long, slurping sip.

“Hey, Duarte? Don’t get me wrong, I mean, the feeling is mutual, but what exactly is it that makes you despise me so much? I’d like to know so I can make sure to keep doing it.” 

Jude barely deliberates over her answer before she responds. 

“Being an overly cocky, obnoxious jerk who has only managed to get this far thanks to his Daddy’s fat purse will definitely be the best way to make me hate you, trust me.”

He grins but there’s no humour in the curve of his sensual lips, his eyes are cold metal.

“You think that the only reason I’m a detective is because of my father?”

“Yup.” She makes sure to add plenty of emphasis to that one word.

Cardan opens his mouth as if to speak, stops, presses his lips together so hard that they turn pale before the colour returns to them when a slow smile spreads across his face, this time full of humour, but the decidedly darker kind.

“Let’s make a bet. If you can figure out what the connection between our three victims is before I do, I’ll go right up to Captain Madoc myself and request a change of partners so you can be rid of my ‘overly cocky, obnoxious’ self. Deal?” 

He was extending a challenge and Jude was never one to back down from those. Besides, the chance to be rid of him with no cost to herself or her reputation was too good to pass up on. Still, there had to be a catch, with Cardan, there was always a catch.

“And on the complete off-chance that you figure it out first? What happens then?”

“If I figure it out first...you have to come with me as my date to this party that my dad’s having in a couple days.”

Those last few words come out in a rush and Jude has to take a moment to decipher their meaning. Followed by another moment to wonder if she’d somehow completely misunderstood what he’d said.

“You want me to what?”

“Be my date to a party. Honestly Duarte, do you have any idea how many women would jump at this opportunity?” His tone is disgustingly nonchalant. 

“I-” she struggles to find the words. “Take one of them then! Don’t you have a girlfriend, Nicasia or something like that? Blue hair and eyes? High pitched voice? Talks a lot about how much she gets seasick?”

“You know, for someone who’s only met Nicasia once you do remember quite a bit about her.” His steady gaze on her is intense.

For some incorrigible reason Jude has to resist the urge to flush.

“I’m a detective. It’s my job to study people.”

“Right. Sadly, Nicasia and I are no longer together, if we ever were. I got bored. Hence, why I need a date.”

“I’m sure you could just take one of your scores of female admirers, you don’t need me.”

“Is that jealousy that I detect in your voice?”

“Cardan.” 

“Look, the point is, I can’t be bothered having to deal with yet another simpering female who thinks that one night on my arm means a promise to a life-long relationship complete with marriage, a fancy mansion and exactly 2.5 kids. All I want is a companion for one night so I don’t get hounded by my mother for not having a girlfriend by which she can procure some grandchildren.”

“Oh so now you want me to be your fake girlfriend?”

He rolls his eyes up at the ceiling and she fights the urge to slap him. 

“It’s just for one night! Besides, I thought me winning was barely even a possibility to you.”

She makes a noise at the back of her throat. “It is.”

“Then I don’t see what the problem is. Do we have a deal, or not?” He holds out his hand, sculpted eyebrows raised in confrontation.

She doesn’t really think he has much of a chance of figuring it out before her, but he had admittedly also proven adept at figuring certain things out in previous cases so there was definitely no certainty that he wouldn’t win, for all her bravado. Yet, her competitive nature couldn’t bear the thought of surrendering, so she pushes her unease aside and grips his hand in a firm shake. 

“Deal.” 

There’s an awkward moment when he takes a little too long to release her hand from his grip. Once he finally does, the rather pointy tips of his ears reddening, they both turn back to the murder board and the view of their murder time line and crime scene pictures, furiously trying to connect the dots in their heads.

A random thought intrudes in her brain.

"Wait, what if Garrett and Van figure it out before we do?”

As one, she and Cardan both turn towards the opposite side of the office where the two officers in question sat in front of their computers.

Van was typing in data on his computer, eyes glazing over and the tuft of black hair atop his head trembling whilst Garrett, or, The Ghost - as he was sometimes called thanks to his tendency to take months before answering non-work related messages - stood eating glazed donuts with one hand and speaking to someone on the phone held in the other. Jude loved the both of them but she had to admit that they didn’t exactly paint the most inspiring picture. 

Once again she and Cardan are in sync when they promptly turn back towards the murderboard and proclaim, “Nah.”

Van’s excitement is clearly written on his face when he walks straight up to Jude’s desk the moment she arrives at the precinct the next morning, slamming down a manila folder with the NYPD crest printed on it onto her neatly arranged table top.

Immediately she reaches out to open it, desperate for a break in the case that would not only put a three time killer behind bars but also ensure that she herelf wouldn’t commit murder if she lost the bet and had to pretend to be Cardan’s girlfriend for a night. The thought makes her want to shudder.

“So, I was looking into all of our victim’s financials and I noticed an anomaly. Two weeks ago on the 7th they each deposited 95 hundred dollars into their savings accounts, but we’ve got no way of tracing the money back because the amount is under the IRS’s investigative limit” Van takes a quick pause before continuing, “but that’s not all, both Taryn and Chloe have credit card charges for small amounts at a tattoo place called Fair Folk Inks down in Queens.”

“Great, that’d be the place where they both got tattoos, I’ll go down there and ask the owner a couple questions, thanks Van.” She puts the sheaf of financial accounts back into the folder and takes a quick swig of her usual morning coffee, black, no sugar before preparing to head out once more.  

“Going somewhere, partner?” 

She’d bumped straight into Cardan when stepping into the elevator and she lets out a small groan of frustration as she steps back from his sturdy form. He looks annoyingly chipper, usual cocky smile in place and laughter in his tone as he looks down at her slightly shorter self. His cologne is strong and emanates the scent of the woods and sunlight in the small elevator. The woods and sunlight? Clearly foregoing the rest of her morning coffee hadn’t been a good idea.

She’d thought she could make it out of the building before he finally arrived, necessitating in having to take him along as well, but clearly fate had other ideas. 

“Tattoo parlour. Queens,” she grits out.

“Let’s go then,” his tone is sickly sweet.

“Hi there, you guys lookin’ to get inked?” asks the pink haired girl behind the counter in fishnet tights and a tank top, looking up from where she is perched on a stool behind the counter when she hears them enter.

The parlour itself is shiny and white, the smooth metal counter and two spaced out black leather tattoo chairs complete with wheeled stools are the only pieces of furniture in the small space. Mounted on the walls are designs, each of them evoking a sense of fantasy. A pixie there, a selkie here, an ornate dragon, all staring right back at Jude as she takes in their surroundings. She takes note of the fact that the pictures staring back at her were very reminiscent of Chloe and Taryn’s tattoos, solidifying her suspicion that this was where they had got them done.

Before she has time to explain the reason for their visit, Cardan pipes up.

“You know, I’ve been thinking of getting one of a slithering snake, maybe across my back? I believe it would add to my already abundant sex appea-”

“Actually,” Jude cuts him off with her most scathing glare, to which he irritatingly responds with a grin. “We’re here on official business, NYPD, we need to speak with the owner of this establishment.” She holds up the badge that she’s just extracted from her plain black wallet as she speaks.

“That would be Vivi, hang tight a sec I’ll go get her.” With a sway of her hips Heather trounces off behind a curtained section at the back of the parlour. 

Unable to stand still for even a few moments, her partner has already wandered over to the corner of the room, pointing at a pinned up design, ““That goblin over there reminds me of Van.”

She ignores him. 

“Oh come on Duarte, you have to admit, there’s a definite resemblance.”

She spares the quickest of glances at the design and it’s true, there’s a striking similarity, but she isn’t about to give him the satisfaction of agreeing so she simply makes a non-committal grunt of recognition.

“Tell me, are you always this tightly wound or is it just for the majority of your day?”

“Excuse me?” Her eyebrows have inadvertently traveled upwards on her face and she can’t believe he has the audacity to say what he just did, although really, she shouldn’t be so surprised.

“Come on Duarte, we’ve been partners for quite a while now and I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you laugh.” He’s standing a few feet away from her, his expression serious, not backing down.

“It’s called being professional.” She can feel the muscles working in her face as she hisses out the words through gritted teeth, blood pounding furiously. 

“Ahem.” She whirls around to find a tall bronze haired woman with striking cat-like eyes that were currently meeting her gaze wearing a lazy look of amusement.  

“Heather said there were some policemen who wanted to ask me some questions?”

Jude cannot believe that she had just gotten so sidetracked by her insolent partner that she’d forgotten why she was currently standing in the middle of a Tattoo parlour in Queens, clutching a set of regular sized close ups of three now dead people. She tamps down the irritation at her own actions as she thrusts out the photos in front of the woman facing her, Vivi, the pink haired girl had said.

“Yes, ma’am, do you recognize these people?”

She watches intently as Vivi carefully peruses the pictures before answering, “I know the two girls, Taryn and Chloe, we’re friends, I’ve even tattooed the both of them. I’m not really sure who he is.”

“Are you sure you don’t know him? Look carefully.” Cardan is all business now, stepping up to Vivi.

“I’m sure.” Vivi’s tone is almost defiant, daring him to question her again.

“You said that you were friends with the girls, how close were you?” 

“They came into the tattoo parlour at the same time about a month ago and we started up a conversation, we exchanged numbers and would meet up for a drink from time to time.” 

“Did they ever meet up with just each other?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Can you think of any reason as to why they’d both be killed by the same person?”

“They’re...they’re dead?”

Jude had intentionally asked the question in a way that would require a reaction and she wasn’t sure that she was entirely convinced by the shocked undertone of Vivi’s voice.

 “I’m afraid so, ma’am.”

“She’s hiding something.” Once again Jude is back in front of the murderboard, furiously capping and uncapping a whiteboard marker as her mind whirls. She’s full of nervous energy, on the brink of a precipice and she wants nothing more than to be able to push herself off of it.

“Agreed.” Cardan is pacing the floor between her and the murder board and his posture indicates that he’s just as worked up as she is.

“But what I can’t understand is why she would kill two of her acquaintances plus a random vending machine operator, I mean, there’s no clear motive.” She’s barely conscious of the slight pain that tingles as she worries at her bottom lip.

Cardan halts in front of the board, takes a hard look at the scrawled timeline on it before once more resuming his brisk walk.

 “And what the hell is the connection between these three victims? They lived in opposite neighbourhoods, worked in completely different areas and fields, never seemed to have been in the same place at the same time and yet somehow they were killed by the same hand. Also, where did all that money come from?” 

His phone chooses precisely that moment to start ringing and the sound of ‘Horns’ by Bryce Fox cuts through the tension. 

“It’s Liliver,” he mouths as he swipes upwards to answer and puts the medical examiner on speaker phone.

“You got something for us Lil?’

“You bet I do. I had scraps from the victims’ clothings tested to try and find a common link. What I found were traces of bleach, acetone, sodium chloride and ammonia.”

“Drugs. They were making drugs. That would explain all the money.” Jude is burning and luminescent with victory, until Lili’s next words cut her down.

“It’s not drugs.”

“How can you tell?”

“Because of what isn’t there. If your vics were making drugs, there’d need to be a couple more ingredients. That being said, they were definitely up to something.”

She lets out a sigh of defeat. “Thanks, Lil.”

Cardan hangs up before bringing his fingers up to his temples, massaging the sides of his head as he burns a hole into the board in front of him.

Jude bites back a scream. “This is like the start of a bad joke, a teacher, a sculptor and a vending machine operator walk into a tattoo parlour…”

He scoffs, “Yeah, except we don’t really have a punchline.”

“Other than ‘they made a bunch of money and got themselves killed.’”

There’s a lull in the air and the frustration is palpable. There was so much more than just their bet at stake here, there was the need for justice for these three victims, who regardless of their crimes likely didn’t deserve what had befallen them. Besides, there was no way that they could let a ruthless killer roam the streets freely.

Suddenly, Cardan whirls around to face her, once again bringing his pacing to an abrupt stop, with a speed to rival that of the animal that was his tattoo inspiration.

“Made a bunch of money,” he repeats. 

He sounds like he’s just jumped off of the precipice. She, on the other hand, remained firmly mounted to the ground. 

“What?”

“A sculptor who works with metal, a chemist and a vending machine operator...I know what they were up to.”

Slowly, the light starts to dawn on her and her pulse speeds up. Yes, she thinks.

“Think about it, when counterfeiting money, what’s the biggest problem you face? Finding the paper,” he continues.

“And a vending machine operator would have an endless supply of one dollar billls!”

“Exactly, then the chemist would come in, using the chemicals that were found on the vic’s bodies to white wash those bills.”

“And then the sculptor would be able to fashion a set of metal plates with which to type in fake serial numbers’ so they can get larger denominations of money…”

“Right! So, plates, paper, there’s just one missing ingredient.”

Beaming smiles break out on both their faces when, in unison they reach the same conclusion. 

The 12th Precinct’s interrogation room had contained many suspects from the time it was built. Some were innocent and some were guilty, but there was no doubt in both Jude and Cardan’s minds that the feline woman currently seated across from them with her legs up on the table was one hundred percent guilty. 

“So you think you’ve figured it all out, huh?” Vivi’s drawl is deceptively flippant.

“I think so.” Jude answers calmly. “For instance, we’ve figured out that you were involved in and likely the mastermind behind a counterfeiting operation that raked in a substantial amount of money. You provided the last ingredient needed, the ink from your tattoo parlour stocks that was used to print on the bills.”

Cardan leans forward. “We’ve also surmised that you killed your partners in said operation; Taryn Santorini and Chloe Tatterfell, both of whom you met through your tattoo parlour, just like you said.”

“And our third victim, Locke McCutchins? Yeah, we know he was your cousin, once removed on your mother’s side wasn’t it? A distant enough relationship for you to not be flagged when checking his family, but close enough for you to enlist him in your scheme so you had access to vending machine bills.” Jude continues, she and Cardan having perfected the art of interrogating together ages ago, their tactics working smoothly together alongside each other. 

Vivienne sneers. “So what? You have no proof.”

“On the contrary, ma’am, we do. You neglected to hide the metal plates that you got Taryn to make for you in a place that wasn’t under a loose floorboard of your room, easily found with the aid of a search warrant.” Cardan smiles.

“You also tripped up when you stored your used gun with matching ballistics to the weapon that killed our victims in the same place as the plates.” Cardan’s smile is copied on Jude’s face.

Vivi’s skin pales and her cat’s eyes narrow into slits as she bangs the table, hard, before slouching back in the metal chair, the fight leaving her.

“Well, I suppose the jig is up, as they say,” she drawls.

Satisfied, Jude stands up and gathers the notepad and pen that she’d left on the desk and then bends over the interrogation table to meet Vivi’s gaze.

“What I can’t understand, though, is why? Why would you kill them if you’d already paid them?”

The Accused smirks. “It was all that idiot Lockes’s fault. He’d gotten himself into debt with some mob shark and needed more dough to bail his sorry self out. I wasn’t about to give it, he had his cut and that was all. But then, he threatened to go to the cops and tell them about what we did. Couldn’t let that happen, so I figured I’d kill ‘em all of. Just to be safe.”

The casual way in which she speaks of her deeds chills Jude to the bone. Wordlessly, she turns her back on yet another cold hearted murderer and exits the room with Cardan right behind her.

They come to a stop in front of the now empty murderboard, its surface shiny and white, devoid of words, but not for long. There was always a murder happening somewhere or the other, Jude had been a detective long enough to know that.

“So, now that Vivienne Insmire, tattoo artist, mastermind and ink supplier of counterfeiting operations and killer of ‘friends’ and distant male cousins is safely behind bars, I think you and I have a certain matter to settle, Duarte.”

She’d been trying hard to avoid this moment all day, pushing back thoughts of her close defeat and what its consequences would be. It seemed like now, she'd run out of time. She gulps.

“I suppose-” she almost can’t bring herself to say the words, “I suppose you won our bet, then.”

“Yup.” He’s not even trying to hide his gloating, “and you know what that means.”

The noise she emits is one that is resigned. She knows what’s coming.

“I’ll pick you up at eight tomorrow.”

“Or I could just take a ca-”

“Don’t be late, Duarte,” he calls over his shoulder as he leisurely strolls towards the precinct exit, slinging his leather jacket over his shoulder.

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

If you’ve made it all the way down here, congrats! Here’s a link for part 2.

Tagging the lovely people on my short but treasured TFOTA taglist; @cupcakesandkittens​ (who helped immensely during the writing of this fic and who suggested adding in the interrogation scene❤) and my very own talented Secret Snusband, @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln​

Please let me know if you’d like to be added to or taken off of my taglist💕