#and by talking to a guy that has a crush on me

[lupinqs]

CRUSH CULTURE ━━ paige bueckers x reader

☆ ━ summary: paige has a hopeless crush on you, a cheerleader.

☆ ━ word count: 5.4K

☆ ━ warnings: alcohol consumption, kissing, this one’s tame

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, inspired by this request (lol i know this was forever ago)

☆ ━ author’s note: hiii i hope y’all enjoy—lemme know if you guys want a part 2 and if so send in ideas for it!!! i have been hopelessly uncreative recently!!! also yes i have been writing tmtc and safe and sound i promise—new chapter of tmtc should be out sometime this weekend, no idea on safe and sound because goddamn that fic takes me forever to write

PAIGE HAS ALWAYS noticed you—though, funny enough, at first it wasn’t because you cheered. That part didn’t even register until her junior year, when she started paying attention to things off the court. But she’d first noticed you back in her sophomore year, in that one class she didn’t feel like she needed at all. She’d often zone out, either doodling in the margins of her notebook or letting her eyes drift around the room as she let her mind wander. Her gaze would skip over classmates until, one day, it stopped on you.

And, God, she remembers that moment. The way she’d blinked, like she needed to reset her brain for a second because… well, you. It wasn’t anything specific, nothing she could even name at the time. But there was this something about you that made her stomach flip. From then on, whenever she zoned out, her eyes would find you before she even realized it. You’d be focused on your notes or lost in thought, completely unaware, and Paige would catch herself staring just a little too long.

She’d think about talking to you, but for some reason, you made her nervous. And that wasn’t something Paige was used to feeling—not with girls. She’d been confident her whole life, even a little cocky when it came to flirting, and her reputation certainly proceeded her. But with you, all of that confidence vanished. Her brain would go blank, her hands would fidget, and her heart would pound just watching you, sitting across the room. The idea of walking up to you, striking up a conversation, felt almost laughable. You’d somehow managed to turn her, Paige Bueckers, into a stammering mess with just a look.

And then there was the other part—the part that kept her from making a move even when she managed to work up the nerve. You looked so…straight. She knows it’s a stupid assumption, but something about the way you carried yourself—she’d convinced herself that you had to be straight. Maybe it was the way you fit in with the other girls, how they flocked around you like they were all in some effortlessly straight, picture-perfect group. Whatever it was, Paige felt certain you’d never look at her the way she looked at you.

So she let it go, or at least, she tried to. But you kept slipping into her thoughts, distracting her in that class, making her mind wander back to you when she least expected it. Her silly little crush on you lingered all through sophomore year, and even when summer rolled around, she found herself thinking of you every now and then, imagining what it might have been like to know you outside of that class.

Then junior year rolled around, and her whole world changed with that ACL tear. Benched for the season, her focus shifted in ways she never anticipated. Instead of charging down the court, she found herself sitting on the sidelines, watching, observing things she normally wouldn’t have noticed. And it was during one of those games, one of those long, frustrating nights when she just wanted to play, that she saw you again—this time, on the court as one of the cheerleaders.

At first, she couldn’t believe it. She actually had to blink a few times, like her brain was trying to catch up with what her eyes were seeing. This was her third year at UConn, and she hadn’t noticed you were a cheerleader ever. Maybe she really was just unobservant, but it truly shocked her. You looked completely different from how you did in class—more animated, more alive, like you were in your element. And when you started that long, impressive tumbling pass down the court, her jaw dropped. She didn’t even know you could do that, and it left her staring, heart hammering in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. (And maybe the tiny little uniform helped speed it up, too.)

From then on, Paige couldn’t keep her eyes off you during games. She’d always find herself watching you, wondering if you’d somehow feel her gaze, hoping that maybe, just once, you’d look her way. She spent so many games like that—sneaking glances, letting her mind wander, imagining what it might be like to finally work up the nerve to talk to you. But game after game, you never seemed to notice her, too focused on your routines, your teammates, and the cheering crowd around you.

And Paige? She knew she was hopelessly stuck. She’d sit there on the sidelines, feeling ridiculous, pining after a girl she couldn’t even talk to, a girl she thought she’d never really have a chance with. It was her worst crush yet—the kind that left her feeling off-balance, stumbling over her own thoughts, trying to convince herself that it didn’t matter—and she’d never even spoken to you. But each time she saw you out there, smiling, moving with that same effortless grace, she’d feel that same pull, that same quiet, persistent ache.

It’s senior year now, and Paige has one thing on her mind: basketball. It’s been more than a year since she’s played, and she’s determined to make this season count. All summer, she told herself the same thing over and over: Stay focused. Don’t get distracted. No more drifting thoughts, no more daydreams, and absolutely no more pointless crushes on girls she can’t have. And especially no crushes on you.

You, the cheerleader she’d spent too many junior year games staring at from the sidelines. You, the girl she still thought about when her mind wandered late at night, even though she knew better. No, this year, she was locking in. She’d worked too hard, too long, to let her head get all twisted up over you again. She was here to play basketball, not to chase after some unattainable crush.

But as she jogs onto the court for warm-ups, trying to ignore the butterflies that come with her first game back, her eyes somehow find you anyway. Just like they always do. And it’s like no time has passed at all. You’re laughing with the other cheerleaders, your hair perfectly styled in a half-up-half-down, a bow nestled in it, your uniform hugging you just right. The lights catch on your skin, giving you this soft glow, and your smile—God, that smile, so open and sweet and painfully distracting—has her heart skipping a beat before she even realizes it. Paige quickly snaps her eyes away, reminding herself she’s here to play, not to get lost in some imaginary world where she has a chance with you. This is her first game back, and even if it’s just an exhibition against Dayton, she’s got to make it count.

With a deep breath, she manages to brush you off. The pregame excitement kicks in, and her focus sharpens as the game begins. And it’s everything she’s been waiting for—the sounds of the court, the rush of the crowd, the thrill of moving with the ball in her hands again. She’s finally back, and for the first quarter, she’s locked in, feeling the rhythm of the game, feeling unstoppable.

Then it happens. KK makes a bad pass, and Paige is already in motion, chasing down the ball to save it from going out of bounds. She dives, stretching to reach it, but it’s just out of reach. Before she can stop herself, she’s crashing full speed into the sidelines—right into the cheerleaders.

Right into you.

The impact is quick and jarring, and she scrambles to her feet as fast as she can, heart hammering in her chest. She’s prepared to rattle off an apology when she realizes who she’s just barreled into. You’re significantly smaller than her, and her stomach drops as she takes in your wide eyes and the faint wince that flickers across your face. But you handle it with the same grace she’d always admired from afar, waving her off with a laugh and saying, “It’s fine! You’re good!” Your smile is easy, casual, and she’s even more mortified by how sweet you’re being about it.

She tries to apologize again, but you’re already brushing it off with that smile, and she feels her face heating up as she mumbles something unintelligible before hurrying back onto the court. But now her head’s a mess, all her carefully built-up focus gone, replaced by the embarrassing replay of what just happened. She tells herself to get it together, but it’s no use. Her mind keeps drifting back to the look on your face, to the sound of your laugh, to the softness in your smile when you waved her off.

The rest of the game passes in a frustrating blur. She’s off her rhythm, missing open shots she’d normally sink with ease, getting caught in rotations she usually anticipates. By the end, she’s only scored eight points—a painfully low number, especially for her—and she feels the weight of it like a stone in her stomach. She should be thinking about the game, her missed shots, how to get her focus back. But as she sits on the bench, watching the last few minutes tick away, all she can think about is you standing there, laughing off her clumsy collision, looking up at her with that easy, unbothered smile.

So much for not getting distracted.

After the game, Paige is still kicking herself over how sloppy her performance was. She lingers in the locker room, hoping to avoid any unwanted run-ins. But finally, when she’s convinced she’s given it enough time for everyone to clear out, she heads out into the quiet halls of Gampel Pavilion.

Except, of course, her luck isn’t that great. Just as she’s walking out, she spots you—still in your cheer uniform but with a UConn sweatshirt thrown over it, heading down the hall, cheer bag on your back. Her first instinct is to turn around, bolt back into the locker room, and hope to avoid any more humiliation, but it’s already too late. You look up, and your eyes meet, and suddenly she’s frozen in place, panicking because she’s actually staring straight into your eyes.

And then you smile at her. That smile, the one that sends her brain into a meltdown every time. But it’s so much worse now because your smile is directed at her. And, suddenly, you’re walking up to her and saying, “Hey, good game tonight,” and Paige is pretty sure her heart has stopped.

She tries to seem casual, to play it cool, but all she can manage is a shrug and a half-hearted, “Eh, wasn’t my best.” She’s hoping you don’t notice her stutter, but her cheeks are burning, giving her away.

You just wave it off, your dimple showing as you grin up at her. “Nah, this was just your warm-up. You haven’t played in, like, over a year. Next game you’ll drop thirty.”

Paige blinks, and the fact that you know she’s good at basketball—even though everyone knows she’s good at basketball—is enough to send her into a coma, she thinks. “Oh, gosh,” she says, rubbing the back of her neck, struggling to find words. “Gonna have to now, just for you.” The second it’s out of her mouth, she mentally facepalms. That totally sounds like she’s trying to flirt with you.

But you just laugh, eyes crinkling as you look at her, completely unfazed. “I’ll hold you to it,” you say, and that smile doesn’t waver.

There’s a pause, and Paige knows this is where you’re about to say goodbye, and she panics because, after two years of thinking and practically obsessing over you, she’s finally talking to you, and it feels too short, too fleeting. Before she can second-guess herself, she blurts, “Oh—uh, hey, about earlier… when I ran into you. I’m… really sorry about that.”

You shake your head, smiling even wider, brushing it off with an easy laugh. “Don’t worry about it. Happens all the time; more than you’d think.”

There’s something so casual and warm about the way you say it, and she feels herself relax a little, caught up in the fact that you’re looking right at her, not at all bothered, almost… endeared? And for some reason, seeing your dimpled smile has her stammering like she’s never done before.

“So… uh…” Paige stumbles, her words failing, her confidence gone. “Are you, um, going to Ted’s tonight?” She bites her lip the moment it’s out, but she presses on. “You know, a lot of people go there after the first game—it’s kinda, like, a…thing. Which, y’know, I guess you probably already know about because… you’re, like, not a freshman…” She sounds so stupid. God.

You tilt your head slightly, considering, before you smile at her again. “I wasn’t really planning on going, but…” You pause, looking at her with a bit of a spark in your eyes, and for a second, she feels like she might actually combust. “Should I?”

Paige’s eyes widen, and she’s nodding before she can stop herself. “Y-yes! I—I think you’d have a good time.” She mentally scolds herself for the stutter, but you’re just nodding, still smiling, still looking so effortlessly at ease while she’s a nervous mess.

You laugh softly, a sound she’s sure she’ll replay in her head all night, and say, “Alright. I’ll think about it. And if I do decide to go, I’ll see you there, Bueckers.”

And with one last smile, you turn and walk away, leaving her standing there in shock, her heart racing and her mind replaying every word you just said. She’s tempted to pinch herself, convinced this has to be some elaborate daydream because there’s no way she actually just talked to you.

She doesn’t move for a long moment, replaying the way you said her name, the sound of your laugh, and the chance that she might actually see you tonight.

IT’S LATER in the night at Ted’s, and Paige is doing her best to stay composed, talking with one of the guys from the men’s team. Dirty Shirley in hand, she’s feeling just the faintest buzz, not enough to loosen her grip on reality but just enough to feel the edges of her confidence soften. She’s nodding along to something the guy’s saying when, over his shoulder, she spots you walking in.

Paige’s attention falters as she takes you in. You’re in baggy jeans that hang low on your hips, and a leather tube top that clings in all the right places, dipping enough to make her gaze lower slightly. She can barely tear her gaze away as you head over to the bar with a couple of friends, both of whom Paige recognizes from the cheer team. You’re laughing, leaning into one of them, completely at ease, and she can’t stop watching.

She realizes she’s staring a little too long, so she quickly excuses herself, not to talk to you—God, no, she can’t even think straight around you—but to hide by her teammates before she does something stupid. Her teammates notice her the moment she approaches, grinning as they watch her flustered expression.

“You see who just walked in, P?” Azzi teases, nudging her.

Paige groans, cheeks burning. “Don’t start.”

But they’re all laughing, and Ice is elbowing KK with a smirk. Nika, who’s been listening with a barely disguised grin, rolls her eyes. “Okay, this is ridiculous. You’ve had a crush on this girl since, like, forever. Go talk to her.”

“Are you kidding? I can’t. She’s—” Paige doesn’t even finish the sentence, glancing over her shoulder just in time to see you at the bar, waiting for your drink. She’d be lying if she said her confidence hadn’t evaporated the moment you walked in, looking like that.

“Girl boo,” KK sighs dramatically, before grabbing Paige’s wrist and dragging her toward the bar. Paige stumbles after her, mumbling weak protests, but KK is determined, practically hauling her across the crowded floor until they’re standing right next to you. KK orders a Sprite, leaning casually on the bar and glancing over at you with a grin. “Hey, girly pop! You cheer, right?”

You smile, looking more at Paige than at KK, and Paige’s heart thuds against her ribs. “Yeah, I do,” you say, introducing yourself and holding out a hand to KK, but your gaze flickers right back to Paige, who’s half-hiding behind her friend, cheeks pink and looking slightly caught. “Hi, Paige.”

Paige’s voice comes out a little sheepish. “Hey.”

KK smirks, clearly satisfied, and gives Paige a quick wink before excusing herself, leaving Paige standing there alone with you.

There’s a beat of awkward silence as Paige shifts on her feet, trying to keep herself from looking like an idiot, which is hard considering how aware she is of every single thing about you—your posture, your smile, the way you’re leaning in just close enough that she can catch a faint hint of your perfume.

“So,” Paige says, trying for casual. “You glad you came?”

You tilt your head, your lips quirking up. “Hmm, not sure yet. I’m not too impressed so far.”

She nods, stifling a wince, feeling more awkward than she can ever remember. And yet, her mind’s racing, urging her to just go for it, because this is her moment. She’s Paige Bueckers—she’s supposed to be confident. She always is. Besides, if you’re not interested, at least she’ll know. And if you are…

She hesitates, then swallows, trying to keep her voice steady as she says, “Um… can I buy you a drink?”

There’s a flicker of something in your eyes—maybe amusement, maybe surprise—and she’s mentally bracing herself for you to say no when you glance at the bar and say, “Actually, I just ordered one.” Her heart sinks a little, but she forces a smile, trying to play it off. Of course you’re not interested; she should have known better—

Then you’re leaning closer, nudging her elbow with yours, and you smirk, your voice soft and playful. “But you can buy my next one, if you want.”

Paige’s brain short-circuits as your words settle in, her mouth going dry as she realizes what you just said. “Uh, y-yeah, totally,” she manages, trying to keep from looking as giddy as she feels. “I…I’d love to.”

Your smirk turns into a grin, and you’re looking at her like she’s the only person in the room. She’s trying to come up with something smooth to say when, suddenly, one of your friends pops ups beside you and Paige, tugging on your arm, pulling you off the barstool and towards the crowd with a teasing, “Come on!”

Paige opens her mouth to protest, but before she knows it, you’re being swallowed up into the throng of people—not before you send her a quick, apologetic look over your shoulder, your friend still dragging you. Paige frowns, a little disappointed, but quickly catches herself. It’s fine, she thinks, though a twinge of regret lingers. She pushes it aside, grabbing her drink from the bar and returning back to her table, telling herself to focus on celebrating. She’s finally back on the court, and after such a long, difficult recovery, tonight is meant to be about unwinding. So she does, letting her team hype her up as they cheer and clink their drinks in her honor, pulling her deeper into the night.

As the time passes, Paige’s frustration eases, replaced by a warm buzz that dulls everything except the elation of being surrounded by her friends. But even as she sips her drink, she can’t help but think about where you’ve disappeared to, if you’re still here, still laughing with your friends somewhere across the bar. She finds herself scanning the crowd more than once, looking for a glimpse of you. She tries to push it down, laugh it off with another round, but every time she looks around, her gaze seems to search for you.

Eventually, the heat of the crowded bar gets to her. She feels flushed, dizzy from the alcohol and the mass of people, so she slips out the back door for some air. The cool breeze hits her face, and she closes her eyes for a second, sighing as the sounds of the bar fade behind her. She barely has a moment to herself before she notices a figure sitting just a few feet away.

It’s you, sitting on the curb, looking down at your hands as if lost in thought. Paige blinks, unsure if she’s seeing things. But then you look up at the sound of the door closing and smile, that familiar, gentle smile that makes her heart stutter. You seem just as surprised to see her, but your expression softens, like you’re genuinely happy she’s there. And that’s all the encouragement Paige needs.

“You care if I join?” she asks, trying to sound casual, even though her heart’s racing.

“Not at all,” you reply, and she takes a seat beside you, a bit closer than she planned. She feels your warmth even in the night air, and it makes her head spin in a way she can’t blame on the alcohol.

There’s a pause, a comfortable silence stretching between you. Paige watches as you draw patterns in the gravel with your fingers, the lights from the bar casting a soft glow over your face. She swallows, summoning up the nerve to say something—anything that might keep you sitting here with her.

“Why you out here?” she starts, genuinely curious.

You shrug, glancing back toward the bar. “Got a little claustrophobic in there,” you say, voice soft.

“Yeah… me too,” Paige nods, grateful for the fresh air and this quiet moment with you. The silence returns, but this time, it’s charged, heavy with something she can’t quite put into words.

Finally, Paige finds her voice again, her words slipping out before she can think them over. “You’re a good cheerleader, y’know. You do all those flips and shit—it’s impressive.”

You let out a small laugh, looking away for a second as if flattered. Paige is almost certain she sees a faint blush on your cheeks, and the sight makes her smile a little, lips curving upward. “Didn’t know you really paid attention to the cheerleaders,” you respond, teasing.

Paige scoffs, shrugging as if it isn’t a big deal, even though she feels like she’s been caught in some sort of confession—which, she kinda has. “Well, I did sit out for a year, so… I had to find something to watch.”

You tilt your head, smirking as you ask, “So you chose to watch me?”

Paige’s cheeks warm, and she silently thanks the alcohol for the courage that lets her meet your gaze. “Yeah,” she murmurs, watching as you look away, biting your lip as if trying to hide a smile. The sight makes her heart skip in a way that’s both exhilarating and terrifying.

After a moment, Paige adds, “I think we… had a class together, couple years ago?”

You nod, eyes lighting up at the memory. “Yeah, we did. Sociology, right?” you reaffirm, nodding in tandem with her. “’M surprised you remember that—you always seemed so disinterested.”

Paige nearly blanches, genuinely surprised you’d noticed her too. She didn’t think you’d have remembered her, much less noticed her back then. The notion gives her some of her usual confidence beck and she manages a chuckle, shaking her head and tilting it slightly toward you as she murmurs, “Ah, so you were watching me too, huh?”

You roll your eyes, but your smile betrays you as you nudge her shoulder. “Shut up,” you mutter, but the blush on your face doesn’t go unnoticed.

There’s another pause, the two of you sitting side by side in the quiet, both of you lingering on the edge of something unsaid. Finally, you break the silence, voice soft and hesitant. “How come you never said anything before?”

Paige swallows, the question catching her off guard. She doesn’t know how to answer without giving herself away, without admitting the way her stomach twists every time she sees you around campus. So instead, she asks, turning the question back on you, “How come you never did?”

You don’t seem to mind that she didn’t really give you an answer. Instead, you just shrug, looking down at your hands. “I don’t know… you make me kinda nervous.”

The confession makes Paige’s heart alight, feeling like it’s on fire and might spread throughout her whole body. She’s used to people being in awe of her for basketball, for her skills on the court. But hearing you say that you feel that way too, like she’s someone more than just her reputation, shakes her. Besides, you’ve always seemed so incredibly at ease around her, never even bothering to look her way. So, almost incredulously, she asks, “Why?”

You scoff, looking at her like she’s missing something obvious. “Um, because you’re Paige Bueckers. Basketball prodigy, campus celebrity.” You raise your eyebrows at her. “I think most people would be.”

Paige feels a rush of warmth at your words, the way you say her name like it means something special. She searches your face, feeling the air grow thick around you, heavy with something she couldn’t quite name. And maybe it’s the alcohol in her system, maybe it’s the way you’re looking at her like she’s somehow both intimidating and endearing at the same time, but she’s feeling bold. Bold enough to keep this conversation going, to see where this moment might lead.

She clears her throat, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Well, if it helps… you make me nervous.”

You laugh, a little breathless, clearly surprised. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious,” Paige insists. “You ain’t see the way I stuttered around you earlier? Ion know, ma, you just kinda fuck with my head.”

She watches, grin widening, as you blush at her words, the color blooming across your cheeks. It’s addictive, seeing you react like that—because of her. She doesn’t even try to hide her amusement when you ask, gaze set out in front of you instead of on her, “Why would I fuck with your head?”

It’s a good question, one Paige asked herself for a long time. It never took her long to figure out the answer. Though, she’s a little nervous to explain herself.

And she gets even more nervous when your gaze slides back onto hers, your head turning towards her. Paige’s smile falters, just slightly, at the eye contact. It’s intense, the kind that feels like it’s holding the world still for a second. Paige’s heart is a drum in her chest, each beat vibrating through her veins. Her eyes slide across your face, your features, tracing the slope of your nose, the curve of your lips, the faint shimmer glitter swiped along your eyelids. She catalogues every detail as if she’s never going to get this close again—a very real possibility if she doesn’t up her game.

Finally, she leans in—just slightly—her voice low and steady as she answers you. “You got this positive energy that makes you just… stand out in front of a crowd. Big smile. Bright eyes. Mm, I just… like seeing that in people.”

The words settle in the space between you, warm and lingering. Paige hesitates, letting them wrap around you both before adding, her voice dipping lower, her boldness shooting upward, “And it doesn’t help that you’re too beautiful for your own good.”

You blush deeper this time, cheeks tinted more red than pink, and it makes Paige’s heart skip. She can’t help the way her lips twitch into a grin. She’s waited so long to see this—see you flustered because of her. It’s everything she imagined and more.

“Stop,” you protest, fighting a smile as you push at her hands, your tone not carrying any weight behind the word. Paige just laughs, soft and easy, catching your hand in hers before you can pull away. She lifts it slightly, letting her thumb brush over your knuckles as she murmurs, “Nah, really.”

It’s then that the air changes—shifting into something heavier. The space between the two of you is practically nonexistent at this point, your sides tucked right into each other. You’re staring at one another, and Paige can’t help it when her gaze flickers down to your lips, just for a second. But it turns out to be enough. Because then she sees your eyes dart to her mouth in return, lingering there. And that’s when Paige knows.

Still holding your hand, she locks her gaze on yours, her voice firm but soft when she repeats, “Really.”

It’s like that word unlocks something between you because suddenly you’re leaning in, and Paige is doing the same, her breath catching the moment your lips touch hers. It’s soft, tentative at first, like neither of you are quite sure if this is real. But then you press into her just slightly, and Paige swears the whole world tilts on its axis.

The kiss deepens, slow but deliberate, and Paige feels her whole body light up. Your lips are warm, soft, and you taste faintly of tequila and strawberry chapstick. It’s intoxicating, the way you move against her, gentle but with enough purpose to make her head spin. Paige’s hand slides up to cradle your jaw, her thumb brushing against your cheekbone.

Your fingers grab at her bicep, holding on like you don’t want to let go, and it sends a thrill through her. Paige’s lips part slightly, and when you follow, letting her slip her tongue into your mouth, it’s like a fire ignites somewhere deep inside her. The kiss isn’t frantic or messy—it’s unhurried, like the two of you have all the time in the world to explore this. She can feel the heat of your skin where her hand cups your face, and she wants to memorize every second, every sensation.

The way you tilt your head just a little, giving her more access, nearly undoes her. Paige tilts her own in response, deepening the kiss further, her fingers slipping from your jaw to the back of your neck. The touch is light, almost reverent, but the closeness makes her heart race.

Your other hand moves, grazing against her side before resting lightly on her hip. Paige’s stomach flips at the contact, her body leaning instinctively closer to yours. She swears she can feel the warmth of your breath between kisses, the subtle hitch when she nips at your bottom lip.

It’s slow, it’s sweet, but it’s intoxicating. Paige swears she’s never kissed anyone like this before, never felt this much just from simple lip-locking. When you pull back slightly—not breaking the kiss entirely, just catching your breath—she can’t help herself. She follows you instinctively, her mouth chasing yours in a way that feels both vulnerable and utterly fearless. You allow her to, tongues half entwined between your swollen lips.

When you finally part, Paige keeps close, her forehead gently pressing against yours, her hand still cradling your neck. Neither of you moves far, the space between you so small your breaths still mingle, soft and warm against each other’s lips. Paige’s eyes flutter open, but she doesn’t look away from you, her gaze locked on yours like you’re the only thing in the world that matters—which, right now, you might as well be.

Her voice comes out lower than she intends, husky and laced with something she can’t quite hide as she murmurs, “You gonna let me buy you that drink now?”

Your lips curve into a slow, easy grin, and Paige feels her chest tighten, her heart skipping a beat at the sight of it. You’re so close she can see the faint glimmer of mischief in your eyes, the way they soften as you look at her.

“Yeah,” you say, your voice soft but sure, “I’d like that.”

The way you say it, the way your smile widens just slightly after, makes Paige’s heart race all over again. She can’t help the small, satisfied smile that spreads across her face. Paige leans back just enough to take in the sight of you—your flushed cheeks, the way your hair’s slightly mussed, and that lingering, breathtaking smile she knows will haunt her in the best way.

“Good,” she murmurs, her thumb brushing your jaw lightly one last time before she pulls away completely, standing up and offering you her hand. When you take it, she holds on a little longer than necessary, leading you back into the bar, already planning how she’s going to keep you smiling for the rest of the night—and, hopefully, much longer afterwards.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 18

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11 || PART 1 || PART 13 || PART 14 || PART 15 || PART 16 || PART 17

Steve doesn’t see much of Eddie for the next few weeks. Presumably there are still Dungeons and Dragons sessions and band practices, but Steve and Chrissy are no longer invited. Jeff flits back and forth between their two groups like a child of divorce, and Steve? He just misses Eddie.

Eddie, who even once Steve slinks back to his usual seat in the cafeteria for lunch, no longer gives his table top rants. He doesn’t say anything at all, not where Steve might overhear him. But he still has Chrissy, and Robin, and Jeff, and that’s enough.

In his free time, he writes aimless letters destined to never be read.

Steve’s moving on—getting over it is a process, or so he tells Chrissy. He never shows her the letters, can’t bear to see the pity on her face. He doesn’t talk about it with Robin again either–just hides his notebook away and gets on with his life.

Eddie’s just a boy, and it’s just a crush. Steve can move on, he always does. He tells Eddie as much in a letter he’ll never read.

Everything changes when he opens his locker and something drops out. It’s a bright yellow envelope, sloppy sunflowers drawn on the sides with black pen, and there, dead center, is his name written in a handwriting he’d recognize anywhere, is his name. Not Secret Admirer, not even Harrington, just Steve.

He shoves it into his backpack before Robin can close her own locker and notice.

It stays hidden there for the rest of the day as Steve’s heartbeat rabbits away in his chest, and his palms itch with sweat. He doesn’t open it that night either, too afraid of what he might find in it. It’s like that one story Robin had told him, where the guy goes crazy after burying someone under the floorboards or something? It’s calling to him, no matter how hard he plugs his ears.

Steve doesn’t get much sleep that night.

He still hasn’t opened it by school the next day. Might not ever have opened it if he hadn’t glanced toward Eddie during lunch and caught his eye. Eddie’s staring, gaze intense even with all the distance between them. But then, the weirdest thing happens—Eddie smiles just a little, and finger waves at him, like they’re friends.

Steve just stares, gobsmacked until Eddie’s entire face starts to turn a splotchy red and he looks down at his lunch table as if embarrassed.

“What was that?” Chrissy asks, looking behind her at whatever had caught Steve’s eye.

“I have to go,” Steve blurts, rushing out of the cafeteria before she can ask anymore questions.

His and Chrissy’s usual abandoned classroom has a teacher in it, so he ends up in his and Robin’s bathroom stall, this time alone. Still, he sits on the ground, leaving enough room for the ghost of Robin to have a seat, too.

He opens his backpack, zeroing in on the envelope instantly—as if he’d ever, for a second forgotten about it—and finally pulls it out.

He traces the sunflowers on the paper, memorizing the grooves Eddie’s pen had made before finally turning it over and sliding his fingers beneath the seal to tear it open.

The paper’s thicker than he’s used to getting from Eddie, and it’s that same, bright yellow that doesn’t fit Eddie’s aesthetic at all. But it fits Steve’s, and that’s the thought that finally gets him to bring the letter closer to his face and begin to read. 

   Steve,

   I wanted to start this out by saying that I’m sorry—it’s a phrase I’m becoming alarmingly used to saying in recent weeks. To Jeff, to Gareth, and now to you. No matter how surprised I was, I had no right to say all that shit to you. And for that, I’m sorry, okay? Really, truly sorry.

   As Chrissy and Jeff pointed out once you’d left, I was a dick, and there’s no excuse for that. And as my uncle told me when he was doing his disappointed parent shtick, I might have been projecting, just a tad.

   Eddie Munson might be gay—who knew?

   So, I’ll hope you accept my sincerest apologies for how I’ve handled this whole thing, Steve. I can’t imagine how it must have felt. Well, I can now, a bit. And it’s scary, right? But, I think it’s my turn to be brave. If I haven’t already ruined any chance I might have had, maybe we can go on a date?

   I’ll pick you up this Friday at your house, say around seven? If you don’t answer the door, I’ll understand. That’ll be my answer.

   But I really, really, really hope you do.

   Yours, always, hopefully,

   Eddie

Steve stares down at it, flummoxed. He reads it again, and again, and again. When the words on the page don’t change, he slips it delicately into the envelope, and goes to his next class, mind swirling away with the clouds.

“Can I drive you home?” Steve asks Jeff before he can climb into Chrissy’s car.

“Uh, sure?” Jeff replies just as Chrissy cuts in with a near-frantic, “are you okay?”

Steve smiles tightly at her and says, “I’ll call you tonight, okay? I just need to talk to Jeff.”

She bites her lip, looking even more worried than before, but all she says is, “I’ll hold you to that.”

Jeff and Chrissy trade an indecipherable look and then Jeff dutifully follows Steve to his car and climbs in. Before he starts the engine, he pulls the envelope out of his pocket and hands it to Jeff.

“What’s this?” Jeff asks.

“Read it,” Steve replies, starting the car and pulling out of the parking lot so he doesn’t have to see whatever expression crosses Jeff’s face as he reads.

It’s silent for a few minutes aside from The Clash filtering quietly tinnily from the radio, but then Jeff says, “so, he finally did it.”

Steve’s fingers clench on the steering wheel at the vague answer to the question he hasn’t yet asked. “Is it some sort of joke?” Steve grits out, still unable to look at Jeff’s face.

“No, man,” Jeff replies, doing that same shoulder clasp thing he’d done last time he’d been in Steve’s car while he was upset. “He’s just been working through some stuff.”

“So he’s…” he finally shifts his gaze toward Jeff, hoping to convey his question without having to say it aloud.

“Seems so,” Jeff replies.

And Steve shudders, all those same feelings he’d been working so hard to suppress bubbling back to the surface, the most dangerous of all being hope.

“Are you going to go?” Jeff asks, voice even enough not to show his opinion on the decision one way or another.

Steve swallows, throat dry. “I don’t know.”

They don’t talk for the rest of the drive, and when he calls Chrissy later that night, she asks the same thing.

“Are you going to go?” she asks breathlessly, like she’s hanging on his every word.

Steve sighs. “He said he might be gay, Chris. What if we go out and he’s wrong?”

Left unmentioned is the niggling voice in the back of his head still insisting that the whole thing is some sort of cruel prank to get back at him. He’d lied, and strung him along, and gotten him hurt. No matter how many times Eddie apologizes, Steve knows he’s not really the one that should be.

“What if he’s right?” she asks.

Steve knows, deep down in his bones, that he’s going to go, just at the chance that Chrissy’s right, that Eddie’s right, that Jeff’s right. Steve desperately wants to be wrong. 

***

Steve doesn’t show any outward appearance of having received the letter. Eddie watches, obsessively trying to catch even the barest hint of what he thinks of the note– if, when he knocks on the Harrington’s front door, he’ll open it.

He keeps looking, and looking, and finally, blessedly, when Eddie looks, Steve’s looking back. Their eyes lock, and such a wave of relief courses through Eddie that he, like a fucking idiot, waves at him. Steve stares, mouth open, and does absolutely nothing back.

Eddie looks down at the table, whole body aflame with mortification, hair dangling messily into Doug’s mashed potatoes.

“Dude,” Doug says, shoving Eddie’s shoulder, forcing him away from his precious lunch.

“You good?” Jeff asks, leaning across the table to poke at Eddie’s bowed head like it’s potentially diseased roadkill he found on the side of the street.

“He hates me!” Eddie whines, turning his head just enough to glance towards Steve’s table, spitting a chunk of hair out of his mouth.

Steve’s not there at all anymore.

“Harrington?” Gareth questions around the bite of apple lodged in his throat. “Aren’t you trying to steal his girlfriend?”

“Of course no—not anymore!” Eddie stutters, turning his head the other direction to glare at Gareth instead.

For his part, Gareth just looks down at him, supremely unimpressed. “Uh huh,” he replies, keeping his voice quiet even when very obviously fed up. “Is this more secret bullshit you’re refusing to tell me?”

“It’s not my secret!” Eddie hisses, finally removing his head from the table so he can crouch on it instead, leaning over Gareth like a gargoyle. “And I promised!”

“Bet you told Wayne,” Gareth mutters.

“Oh my god, I told Wayne!” Eddie cries, dropping off the bench entirely to crawl under the table where he belongs. It’s not like there’s anyone in the room right now that he wants to impress—he already scared Harrington off.

“Dude,” is all Jeff says, peering under the table to look down at him judgmentally. “Chrissy is going to kill you.”

Eddie clutches his hair hard enough that it hurts. “It’s Wayne! He doesn’t count,” Eddie whines, “does he?”

Jeff snorts, kicking his foot out until the toe of his sneaker connects softly with Eddie’s kneecap. “He doesn’t count,” he starts, continuing before Eddie’s even slumped with relief, “to you.”

When Eddie slinks out from beneath the table, Steve’s spot is still empty, and Chrissy’s sitting there, glaring across the cafeteria at Eddie like she can just sense that he didn’t keep his vow of secrecy.

God, girls are scary.

He avoids looking in her direction the rest of lunch, picking at his own potatoes and mushy peas just for something to do.

Steve’s not going to open the door—he knows that. But, even still, he wakes up early on Friday morning to sneak into Mrs. Johnson’s yard to carefully cut a few of her sunflowers, ducking low enough that the bushes in front of her windows will obscure him.

When he’s done, he’s got five perfect sunflowers, tied together with the brown shoelace he’d stolen from a pair of Wayne’s old boots.

He leaves them in the kitchen, awkwardly propped into a bowl full of water since the Munson’s aren’t the kind of family to own a vase, or even a tall enough glass, apparently.

By the time Wayne gets home from the graveyard shift, Eddie’s elbow-deep in a trash bag in the back of his van. Wayne peers through the propped-open doors, eyebrows already raised as Eddie freezes, hand in the metaphorical cookie jar.

“What’re ya doing, boy?” Wayne asks.

Eddie stares, brain full of ants and TV static as he fumbles for an answer. What comes out of his mouth is “I asked Steve out!”

Wayne’s lips quirk up, and he’s smirking at Eddie as if to say, see? told ya, the smug bastard. But all he says is, “is that so?” drawling and easy like he’s not acting all-knowing and superior.

Eddie groans and takes his hand out of the garbage bag to run it through his hair and pull. “Or I left him a note?” he says, gut churning as Wayne’s face drops to his more customary frown. “Oh my god, he’s not going to show!”

“Then why’re you cleaning your van out?”

Eddie puffs up, glaring back at Wayne now. “Well I’m going to show up, Wayne!” he replies, voice shrill. “I’m a man of my word.”

Wayne snorts when Eddie calls himself a man, just like he always does, but his lips are quirked up again, looking almost proud as he replies, “good man,” with only a slightly mocking intonation. “Want some help?”

They get all the trash out in a matter of minutes. When it becomes clear that the vacuum cleaner can’t reach no matter how close they park the van, Wayne comes back out with the broom from the kitchen and they sweep as much debris as they can from inside before Eddie steals the comforter from his own bed and lays it across the back carpet, masking the weird stains.

Wayne finishes it off with a spritz of his own rarely-used cologne, covering up any remaining funky smells. Even so, Eddie elects to leave the windows rolled down to air it out for as long as possible.

When Wayne notices his commandeered shoelace around the sunflowers, he doesn’t say a thing.

Then, he’s forced to go to school, wiling away the hours until he’s standing in front of the Harrington’s front door, boots shined for the first time in his life, sunflowers clutched in shaking hands, van parked neatly behind him, hair brushed into submission. He’d even used his fancy conditioner, thoughts of that half-remembered first letter waxing poetic about his hair fueling his action. 

All for a boy who won’t answer the door.

But, Eddie’s a man of his word, so he knocks.

And waits.

And waits.

And waits.

He waits such a long time that he jumps when the door opens, breath catching as he looks at Steve Harrington, face-to-face for the first time since that disastrous day in his living room. His mostly-healed eye aches with remembered pain, his ribs cold with the absence of Steve’s hands.

He’s missed looking at him.

Steve’s in light-wash jeans, hair perfectly coiffed, wearing a green sweater that makes the gold in his eyes pop, even in the dim light from the Harrington’s porch light. He looks good, put together enough for a first date, casual enough to just be his everyday clothes.

Eddie’s heartbeat flickers with something that feels alarmingly like hope.

“Uh, hey,” Eddie says, finally breaking the awkward silence.

He smiles, trying to be charming, but he’s never done this before, doesn’t know how to contort his face. He holds out the sunflowers, arm awkwardly extending, hoping desperately that his offering will be accepted.

Steve stares down at them, hand still clutching the door like he’s one second away from slamming it closed in Eddie’s face. Eddie holds his breath, heartbeat ratcheting up from the oxygen deprivation.

Steve reaches out, his fingers brushing Eddie’s as he tries to take the flowers from him. Eddie’s fingers stay clenched around the stems for a second too long, hand following the flowers trajectory toward Steve’s own chest until Eddie forces his hand open and lets it drop uncomfortably back to his side.

Steve stares down at them, leaning down to take a sniff. Eddie winces—they don’t smell like much, just dirt and nebulous green things. But Steve smiles, just a tiny, little thing that hits Eddie’s body like electroshock therapy.

“Thank you.” Steve says quietly, not looking away from the sunflowers as he asks, “come inside while I put them in some water?”

Steve swings the door open wider, and Eddie slides past him and into the Harrington’s house. As Steve wanders further inside, Eddie stands in the entrance—foyer?—feeling remarkably out of place. Even from here, he can see enough negative space to house twenty-odd people, a vaulted ceiling, and is that a chandelier? Eddie doesn’t step a toe off the mat beneath his feet, afraid his very presence will stain the perfect white interior.

He shouldn’t be here. Places like this aren’t for the Munson’s of the world. They’re for royalty, kings and queens, and all the upper crust that spits down on the rest of them. But when Steve comes back, sans sunflowers, he’s smiling just a little, tromping his own shoes over the white carpet like he doesn’t give a shit.

Maybe he doesn’t belong here either. Maybe it’s possible to carve out a space for him in the Munson’s shitty trailer, however small.

“Alright, Munson,” he says, still smiling just this side of awkward. “What’re we doing?”

As Eddie holds Steve Harrington’s own front door open for him to step through, Eddie’s mind’s buzzing with maybes.

***

Eddie’s van smells like mothballs and cologne, and the radio’s quietly playing the sort of generic pop music Steve usually mumbles along to on his way to school. But, Eddie’s fingers are twitching against the wheel, and he hasn’t said a word since they’d climbed in, so Steve sits on his own hands and keeps his mouth shut.

The longer the silence drags on, the more Steve regrets ever opening the door at all. Eddie pulls into Hawkins’ drive-in, and buys their tickets and two bags of popcorn. Steve’s hand clenches in his lap, Eddie’s words to Chrissy all that time ago running through his head—we can go to the drive-in and hold hands the whole time.

“I hope this is okay?” Eddie says, finally breaking the silence as he spins the dial to the correct channel to catch the movie. “I wasn’t sure if you liked horror, but this is all that’s playing this weekend, and I’ve been wanting to watch it so—”

“It’s fine,” Steve replies, and it is.

He’s never been much for horror beyond putting it on for dates so he has a built-in excuse to reach out. But, he’s not squeamish, and maybe those same thoughts are running through Eddie’s head: an excuse to reach out and touch.

But, as the title card flashes SLEEPAWAY CAMP in big, boxy font, all Eddie does is reach into his popcorn bag and stuff a handful into his mouth. Steve follows suit, the buttery kernels turning to ash on his tongue.

He watches with little enthusiasm as the stupid teenagers on screen fool around and get torn apart. Eddie makes little comments throughout the movie, but there’s nothing Steve can grasp onto.

What does one say to, “whoa, blood fountain,” or “god, that kid’s a douche,” or, “they should’ve killed him sooner.”

Steve still tries, humming and nodding along and verbalizing his own agreements. Eddie never responds, just keeps stuffing his mouth with popcorn until the bag’s empty. Steve stares down at his own mostly-full bag and wonders if the separate bags were just to make sure they didn’t accidentally brush hands. 

He hands his own popcorn over, and Eddie grabs it twitchily, muttering a “thanks, dude,” without really looking at Steve at all.

Steve just wants to go home, crawl into his own bed, and forget this whole thing ever happened.

But he just sits there, silent as the movie plays on. He doesn’t understand the end, but he missed so much of the beginning and middle that he barely questions it.

When it’s over, Eddie turns the dial back to that same, nondescript station that doesn’t fit him at all, fingers clenching hard enough on the wheel that Steve can hear it creak under the strain. Steve turns away, to look out the window, throat clogged up with feelings he doesn’t want to think about.

The longer this date drags on, the more excruciatingly clear it becomes that whatever is driving Eddie to this, it’s not him returning Steve’s feelings. This isn’t how dates go when you’re excited about them, there’s nothing clicking into place–it doesn’t even seem like Eddie’s trying.

He feels small, and sad, and every minute that passes with Eddie saying absolutely nothing at all only makes Steve feel more like a charity case that Eddie’s taken pity on. 

He never should have listened to Chrissy and Jeff’s encouragement. They’d both been so hopeful that he’d caved, but they’re not the ones stuck in the devastatingly uncomfortable moment. It’s just him and Eddie, living with the fact that Steve’s got a crush on a boy that can never like him back.

There’s no coming back from this, no matter how nice Eddie tries to be about it. Because he is nice, no matter how he’s been acting the past few weeks.

Steve’s the problem—always has been, always will be.

So, he stews in the silence, watching the same familiar buildings pass him by like it’s the last time he’ll ever see them. And maybe it will be, if Eddie decides to be not so nice. This was all so catastrophically, unbelievably stupid from that very first letter all the way to this moment, stuck in a van with a boy that won’t even look at him. 

He’s so lost in thought that he doesn’t realize they’re going the wrong way until Eddie’s pulling into a familiar clearing in the quarry. His headlights illuminate the skid marks Steve’s car had made in the dirt when he’d screeched to a halt to stop Jason Carver from rearranging his face.

Eddie slides into park much more levelly and cuts the engine. The quiet is absolute, made worse by the darkness surrounding them. Steve can hear the crinkle of Eddie shifting on his seat, the sound of his throat as he gulps like he’s about to go off to war.

 “I thought—” Eddie starts before petering off as his voice breaks. Steve listens to him take a few shuddering breaths before starting again. “I thought we could star gaze?”

Steve sighs, slumping back into his seat, so unbelievably tired. “Eddie—”

“Unless you don’t want to!” Eddie rushes out. “I just thought…”

Steve would kill to know what he’s thinking, but whatever it is, Eddie doesn’t pick up his trailing sentence, just leaves it hanging in the silence between them. Steve sighs again, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, desperate to keep an even keel.

“Look, Eddie” Steve starts, turning toward Eddie. He can see the silhouette of his frame hunched over in the driver’s seat, but his face is a black void for Steve to project upon. It makes him brave. “You don’t have to do this. You, like, tried it out, right? And it didn’t work out.”

“Steve—”

“It’s fine, Eddie,” Steve cuts in, exhausted. “You can just drop me off at home, and we can go our separate ways.”

Eddie makes a sound like a strangled cat, and then his silhouette lunges across the distance between their seats. Steve jerks back, head banging painfully into the window as Eddie’s mouth mashes against his, more teeth than lips.

Shoutout, once again, to my beta reader and friend @queenie-ofthe-void for this one!!! I struggled for weeks on the date, and then they said, "what if you just make it as awkward as possible," and then I wrote this entire date in a day. Truly a muse for me <3<3<3

[monstersflashlight]

Patreon Commission for Elise

Request: Basically the reader is the CEO of some big/famous business and has a crush on her secretary but docent think that he likes her. So one day the Readers Sister come to the office for a visit and they are talking in the readers office and her secretary needs to drop off some important papers and over hears their conversation. So then he knocks on the door and acts like he didn’t hear the conversation. Reader’s sister says high and the reader notices how they interact together. So when the Readers secretary leaves the Reader is like “hey I think that you guys would look good together. He totally likes you.” Kinda stuff. And the sister is confused but docent really think much about it. So the Readers sister is staying in town for their friends wedding or something so the sister is always at the office. One day the Secretary decides to ask the Readers sister for help to get with the Reader. And that’s all I got.

A/N: This was so much fun to write, they are so in love with each other, totally would write more of them. This is kind of soft in a hot way, enjoy!

The CEO's minotaur

Minotaur x chubby fem!reader || semi-public sex, heavy making out, office sex

Your sister is in town after a very long time, and you had missed her so much, but right now, with her nagging at you about not acting on your feelings for your hot minotaur secretary… you aren’t so sure about missing her. (That’s a lie, you totally missed her, but dang if it doesn’t annoy you to be told you are stupid).

“Come on, you need to tell him, see if he feels the same way,” she’s saying. She’s told you that at least three times before in the past couple of days, but you still refuse to believe her. What has a hot minotaur to do with his human boss? Nothing.

“Stop it, you know he doesn’t like me that way,” you try to argue for what feels like the thousandth time. “He’s too goo-” You hear a knock on the door and shut up instantly, motioning your sister to be quiet, too. “Come in.” Said minotaur enters the room making you sigh in pent up frustration. His big form looks extra good today, and it does nothing to make you feel any less intense about him.

“I need you to sing these papers, ma'am,” his tone is so formal, and he keeps sending side looks to your sister as she tries to repress her laughter.

“Yes, sure, come here.” You sign the papers he puts on your desk as you tell him: “I’ve told you repeatedly not to call me ma’am, just use my name.”

“Okay…” He says, but you know he’s going to do it again. It almost feels like he likes to call you that, like it gives him some sort of satisfaction to act so proper around you. But that can’t be, right? There’s no way.

You exchange a few more words as he tells you about the calls and schedule for the rest of the day. You give him a list of a few things you need him to do as he smiles, a soft blush covering his cheeks and making you press your tights together. Fuck, you need to get it together.

When he leaves you look at your sister, who is covering her mouth with her hand trying to repress the giggles you bet she’s holding. “Don’t,” you warn her, already anticipating what she’s going to say.

She shuts her mouth but smiles brightly at you, changing topics. A while later, when your lunch break is over and your sister is leaving, she says: “For the record, he totally likes you.” She closes the door just in time to avoid the paper-clip you throw her way, her laughter heard even across the closed door.

Your sister stays in town a few more days, dropping by your office to have lunch with you every single day, saying it’s not always that she can spend time with her CEO sister in her important job. You laugh it out, but you are secretly glad she spends time with you every time she comes to the city. You miss her like crazy when she’s not there, and calls just aren’t the same.

That’s how you are about to round the corner when you hear her voice, talking to someone who shows up in your dreams way too often. “Then how do I approach her?” Your secretary says with a soft tone that makes goosebumps erupt on your skin.

“Just tell her you like her!” Your sister whisper-shouts. She was never good at being subtle.

“But- But… She doesn’t like me back. She’s my boss, and so good. She’s so pretty and powerful, and her aura is so sexy at the same time as kind… And I’m just a minotaur.” You hate the self-depreciation words coming out of his mouth. You want to scream at him that he’s wrong. That you are head over heels for him. Then he says: “She’s just so much better than me,” and you had enough.

You turn the corner and stare at his stunned face. “You are wrong,” you tell him.

Your sister is smiling so big you want to be annoyed with her, but you just can’t. Thanks to her you were able to hear him say those things about you. Fuck, she’s going to hold that over you forever, isn’t she? But at that moment you don’t even care. You just care about his sweet face all blushed in the prettiest shade of brown as he looks at you with big eyes and the hint of a smile.

“I’m going to take that as my cue to leave, have fun you two. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” She tells as she almost runs to the elevator.

You two stare at each other for what feels like an eternity. You scan his form, his proper clothes and soft fur, the way his horns are so big they almost reach the ceiling, the sweet smile that’s spreading across his features as he registers your flushed face. You don’t know who moves first, but before you can process it, you two are in each other personal space, and he’s looking at you intently.

“Can I kiss you?” You don’t even respond, grabbing his horns and pulling him down to devour his mouth in the most hot kiss you’ve ever given (or received).

You make out like teenagers, his hands all over your body as yours explore his. It’s intoxicating to finally be able to kiss him like that, to be able to touch him the way you’ve been waiting for so fucking long. He’s driving you insane in the best way possible and, judging by his moans, he’s no better.

“I need you, I need you, I need you,” you chant against his lips, pushing him softly to your office.

He hauls you up and your legs come around his waist. He walks you to your desk and sits you over it, doing the whole wiping-everything-off-the-table thing, the most cliche move of all times. You giggle as he kisses down your neck, his horns right in front of your face as you grab them to control his movements a bit more. You pull him up and devour his mouth again.

“I’ve wanted you for so long, I’m so fucking gone for you,” he whispers against your lips, his hands cupping your boobs over the fabric of your clothes as you moan. You can’t even tell him you feel the same way, your brain is foggy with desire as you palm the huge erection inside his pants.

“Take me, then. Make me yours,” you ask softly.

“Yes, ma’am,” he tells you with a smirk. You kiss him again, your hands working on his clothes to open them. You think some of the buttons of his shirt fly away, but you can’t care less.

He moves you enough to get your pants off your legs, ripping your underwear as you gasp. His strength turning you on so much you want to scream his name, but instead, you bite his neck to avoid making too much noise. You can’t forget you aren’t alone in the office, the other’s cubicles might be a few hallways away, but if you let out all the noise you want, they will definitely hear, and that wouldn’t be too professional of the CEO of the company.

He apparently can read your mind, because he whispers against your ear: “One of these days I’m going to hear your sweet lips screaming my name as I pound into you,” you groan at his words.

His fingers find your needy hole, pushing one inside without preamble as he starts finger-fucking you into a mess of arousal and pent up frustration. His thumb is on your clit when the second finger enters you, making you move your hips to ride his hand. He hums in contentment, urging you to move faster, to get all your pleasure off him.

“I need you, can I… Can I fuck you?” You take a second to process his words, your brain lost in pleasure to what his hand is doing.

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” you agree vehemently as he chuckles, taking his fingers away from your dripping cunt and spreading your juices over his dick. When you look down to see, you have to swallow a gasp at the sheer size of him. “You are so big,” you let out without wanting to, covering your mouth in embarrassment.

He chuckles again, caressing your cheek and kissing the tip of your nose. “Don’t worry, ma’am, it will fit.” You don’t doubt his words, seeing as you are fucking drenched with desire.

When you feel the tip of his cock against your pussy, you throw your head back, moaning like a whore as the tapered head breaches you. He breathes hard against your neck, his panting making everything hotter. He keeps pushing and pushing and pushing until he’s so deep inside you can almost taste it in the back of your throat.

Your fucking is frantic and desperate. You kiss each other with such desperation that you end up panting against each other mouth’s. It’s so hot and needy, is the climax of so much pent up sexual tension between you two that your orgasm catches you off guard.

“I’m about to…” You don’t finish the phrase before your body is convulsing and your pussy is fluttering around his girth as he curses loudly.

You bury your face in his neck to muffle your sounds as you come apart in his arms, the pleasure so high it’s almost blinding. He follows you over the edge not three thrusts after, and the feel of his come painting your insides is enough to send you over a second orgasm. You bite down on his neck muscles hard, making him groan and shot another load into your tingling pussy.

“Fuck,” you breathe out when your heart slows down a bit.

“Give me a few minutes,” he jokes, making you giggle.

[4ranghaes]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ bnd when they’re jealous

ot6!bnd x reader [mostly fluff, some smut, separate classifications for each]

sungho 🎀 [suggestive, members talking about reader sexually, fem!reader, mentions of: daddy kink, stealing panties, photos taken during sex]

“morning,” sungho greeted his members, walking into the kitchen with his hood up, his feet heavy on the ground as he walked off his hangover.

“morning hyung,” leehan greeted. four of the members were sat around the kitchen table, apart from woonhak, who had gone to visit his parents for the weekend when the legal members decided it’d be a good idea to have a night out. or a night-in drinking after eating in a restaurant, as idol life would have it, with you supplying bottle after bottle from trips to the gs25 over the road whenever you ran out.

“how’s y/n?” jaehyun inquired, sungho shrugging with a laugh.

“passed out still,” he chuckled, sitting down after making himself a bowl of cereal, “she can’t handle drink very well. don’t worry about noise though, she sleeps like a baby.”

“i’m sure after what you put her through too,” riwoo snorted, sungho looking at him shocked, almost offended.

“what?!”

“he doesn’t remember,” taesan sniggered, slapping him on the shoulder blades, “watch your mouth when you drink next time, hyung. or should i say daddy?”

the boys all burst out laughing, sungho’s mouth dropping open as he looked between all his members, not a single one saving his dignity.

“ah it’s okay, yeppi,” jaehyun said, holding back a laugh as sungho looked up at him, scared of his next words, “we washed your girls’ panties for you, by the way, thought you should give them back clean before she discovers them.”

“what?!” sungho yelled, grabbing the material that riwoo was dangling off his finger, taken fresh out the washing machine.

“what, hyung? it’s not like you didn’t volunteer this information yourself!” leehan chuckled, “shame you passed out before you could show us your hidden folder, though. next time.”

sungho was raging now, standing up from his chair and slamming his bowl into the sink before standing before his members, his hands shaky with rage. “i’m fine with teasing. and i know this is my fault. but one more single word about my girlfriend and i will ruin you guys.”

“sungho?”

“y/n!” he exclaimed, his voice turning bright again as he spun on his heel to face you, your sleepy figure appearing out his bedroom, his sweater covering your body, “i’ll be there in a minute, sweetie, go back to bed.” you grunted, retreating back into his bedroom as sungho looked back to his members with a threatening look.

“anything to say?”

they all shook their heads, sungho sighing in response and walking back to his bedroom, his hangover headache returning tenfold. you were bundled on in the blankets, a sleepy smile on your face and one eye open as he walked in.

“yeppi!” you murmured, opening your arm to come into your embrace, which he did without complaint, “were they crucifying you for everything you said about our sex life?”

“you know?!”

“you were very drunk, sungho darling,” you chuckled, rubbing his back comfortingly, “it’s okay. i don’t mind, you’re still my yeppi.”

sungho snuggled into your body, pouting with a sigh, “my girl.”

riwoo 🦦🍡 [fluff, bsf!riwoo, reader has a crush on someone else]

“bye taehyung!” you exclaimed, waving. riwoo, stood next to you, watching silently. you elbowed him in the ribs, “say bye.”

“bye taehyung!” riwoo over-exaggeratively waved as you rolled your eyes.

“i don’t get why you hate him! i mean, he walked me here, how sweet is that?!” you gushed, riwoo rolling his eyes and wincing, preparing for the usual monologue, “i didn’t even ask him too, i mean i kept saying no! he’s just so sweet, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer… ah! i can’t—”

“a red flag, no?” riwoo hummed, sitting down and flicking the tv on, “not taking no for an answer?”

“well– i mean in some situations! but not this one,” you sighed, sitting next to him, “seriously, sanghyeok-ie, what has he done to you? why do you hate him so much?”

riwoo sighed, looking at you before shaking his head, “nothing. you know how i am. i’m just a hater!”

you chuckled, shrugging with a nod in non-committal agreement before relaxing into the sofa to watch tv.

“but i do have one thing…” riwoo started, before shaking his head, “no, nothing.”

“no, what?!” you said quickly, sitting forward and grabbing his arm, “i want to hear! sanghyeok, you’re my best friend, if you don’t like someone i might date then i need to know why!”

riwoo swallowed, the words ‘i might date’ piercing his heart. he could feel it deflating like a balloon. “it’s really nothing. i was just gonna say, if you’ve liked him for 5 years, why have you not confessed yet?”

“oh,” you said suddenly, shocked at the sudden confrontation, “well… i don’t… i don’t really know. i’m always like this, you know me.”

“no,” riwoo disagreed with a curt shake of his head, “you always used to confess.”

“yeah, and i was always turned down!” you laughed, taking the remote from him as you flicked through the channels, “anyway, this is not about those confessions. this is about taehyung, i mean why would he ever like me?! it’s more of an admiration thing than anything, i think.”

“hey,” riwoo said sternly, “don’t say stuff like that.”

“but it’s true, isn’t it?!”

“no!” riwoo exclaimed, shaking his head as he looked at you incredulously, “no, absolutely not! any guy– and especially he— would be lucky to have you!”

you chuckled, furrowing your eyebrows a little in confusion, “thanks, hyeok.”

“i’m serious, y/n,” riwoo looked at you sternly, his body now sat forward too, his hold on your arm strong, “i need you to know that no guy on earth is good enough for you, okay? you’re the kindest person i’ve ever met and you’re funny and sweet and beautiful, and he is just some fucked up boy in a band, who happens to have a pretty face, okay?! please.”

he flopped back against the sofa with a loud sigh. you laughed with shock, “sanghyeok-ie. do you have something to tell me?”

“yes, i like you, y/n,” he sighed, “but this is not about that, not even i am good enough for you, okay?! but especially not him.”

you laughed, leaning into riwoo’s body, “i know why you never liked him now.”

riwoo was frozen in place, half shocked and half regretting his rushed confession, coming from an ugly place within him. he sighed, “why?”

“cause you were jealous, baby,” you teased. riwoo’s heart clenched at the nickname.

“y/n, please don’t tease me about this, we can just move past it,” he sighed, going to leave before you grabbed his hand.

“what if i don’t want to?”

jaehyun 🪻🐕 [fluff, fem!reader, pouty!jaehyun]

“hi there. what are you doing here all alone?”

your eyes widened at the sudden figure in front of you, “um… hello. oh i’m just–”

“got stood up?” the man asked, sighing and shaking his head before he took your hand, “well it doesn’t matter, i’m here now.”

“what?! no! i—”

“ya!” jaehyun’s voice rang from the other side of the café as he exited the toilet.

you giggled, watching his over-exaggerated behaviour as he ran through the café. your hero.

“what do you think you’re doing?!” he exclaimed, looking at you.

“me?!” you yelled back, “w-what— i didn’t do anything, he came over to me!”

“oh?!” he yelled, turning his harsh gaze to the guy sitting in what was jaehyun’s seat, you wrapped your arms around your boyfriend’s arm, hiding behind his body, “then what even are you?!”

“excuse me?” the man asked.

“hitting on my girlfriend,” jaehyun hissed like it was a slur, wincing after he said it, “get lost!”

“hey- man, i’m sorry, i had no idea she—”

jaehyun rolled his eyes, looking at the man like he’d lost his mind, “did i not just say get lost?! get out of here! that’s my seat!”

the man held up his hands, apologising to you quietly as he got up and left. jaehyun continued making faces as though he was still talking to the man, sitting down where he’d just been.

“ah, and it’s warm from his butt,” jaehyun tutted, as you laughed.

“thank you,” you smiled, taking his hand, “i didn’t know what to do.”

“clearly!” jaehyun exclaimed, not taking your hand back, “letting him hold your hand, ugh! i can’t believe it! why didn’t you tell him you had a boyfriend!”

“i couldn’t get a word in!” you exclaimed, “i promise, myungie, if i could have, i would have. anyway. didn’t need it in the end, i have my big strong protector with me, hmm?”

jaehyun scoffed, your words melting his pouty demeanour, “well… i didn’t really do anything.”

“it was kind of sexy you know,” you whispered at a comedically loud volume, jaehyun reacting with a ‘i knew it’ noise and a loud giggle.

“yeah?” he asked, poutiness gone as he took your hand over the table, playing with your fingers, “that was kinda manly, huh?”

you smiled, amused at your boyfriend as you nodded.

“i was like bah! get the fuck out and he was like ugh! don’t hurt me! and i was like bah! that’s my girlfriend!” jaehyun spoke, mostly to himself, reliving his glory days, “ugh, don’t worry about anything, y/n. i’m here.”

taesan 🐈‍⬛🎸 [angsty, bsf!taesan, fem!reader]

“oh my god, y/n! thank god, i was just thinking about you,” taesan smiled, seeing you in the doorway of his apartment building.

“dongmin-ie!” you exclaimed, pulling in your friend for a hug, “oh it’s been so long!”

“right?!” he laughed.

you and taesan had met a few years back through shared a interest in rock music, ending up hanging out with each other for hours on end, just laying about and listening to music. many people thought it was a weird relationship, but it was nice, and peaceful. in the past few months, however, taesan had been busy with composing and schedules, and you’d been busy with, well, his best friend.

“come on then,” taesan smiled, putting in the passcode to the building, furrowing his eyebrows when you faltered, “y/n?”

“sorry, min, but i’m actually here to meet up with leehan,” you smiled sheepishly, “he’s just coming down now.”

���leehan? why would you be meeting leehan?” taesan laughed, seeing the aforementioned man leaving the elevator.

“oh you’re home,” leehan acknowledged his friend before jogging down the stairs outside the building, pressing a kiss to your lips as a greeting, “hey baby.”

taesan’s eyes might’ve popped out of his head if he wasn’t careful, letting out a breathy laugh, feeling as though the air was being ripped from his lungs.

“jaehyun wasn’t awake when i left, tae, can you let him know where i am?” leehan called, smiling down at you and pressing a kiss to your nose, both of you too wrapped up in each other to notice your friend’s turmoil, “okay, bye!”

taesan watched the two of you leave, his heart pounding out of his chest before running up the 12 flights of stairs to get to the lower dorm. he barged into the flat that was not his, finding sungho in the living room playing fifa.

“did you know?!”

“know what?” sungho exclaimed, shocked at the sudden anger.

“that donghyun is dating y/n?!”

“oh, yeah,” sungho nodded, before furrowing his eyebrows, “d-did you not? this started a few months ago.”

“a few months ago?!” taesan yelled, pacing round the dorm, his face scrunched up to fight back tears as he panted.

“what’s wrong?!” sungho exclaimed, “they’re kind of nice together. very in love from what i can see, they’re all over each other whenever she’s round.”

“she comes round?!” taesan shouted, his voice hitching at the end as he stared at the ceiling, “no, sungho, i didn’t know.”

“okay, but still, i don’t see what the problem is here! you know him at least, you can hang out with both of them.”

“the problem is i’m in love with y/n, sungho, you absolute idiot!” taesan yelled, finally crumbling onto the floor, burying his face into one of the bean bags.

“w-what?”

taesan groaned, turning over, “i’m in love with y/n. and i didn’t tell anyone cause i was embarrassed. and now look what’s fucking happened. oh god, i’m an idiot!”

“n-no, it’s okay! i’m sure! the-they’re not that in love, i was just trying to be nice,” sungho scrambled, his hand finding his younger brother’s arm, rubbing soothingly.

taesan sighed, shaking his head, “it’s over, hyung. and now i have to see both of them all the time. they kissed five times while saying goodbye to me… five times!”

leehan🪸🐠 [suggestive, fem!reader, leehan has a scratched up back, jaehyun and sungho being little shits]

“here he is,” jaehyun teased, leehan appearing from his room with a small smirk on his face.

“yeah, shut up,” leehan said pre-emptively, knowing that both jaehyun and sungho had just heard everything that had come from his bedroom, where you were laying, dozing after the evening’s activities.

sungho was sat on the floor playing fifa as he laughed, looking up to his younger friend, “woah!”

“what?” leehan exclaimed, spinning around. jaehyun, who was sat at the dining table, now seeing what sungho was referring to.

“damn!” he yelled with a laugh, “was that sex or were you being attacked by a bear?”

leehan laughed, waving off their comments as he continued to the fridge, getting drinks and snacks for himself and for after you woke up, “she can’t give me hickies, our make-up artist forbid her, i guess this is the other option, why? jealous?”

jaehyun shrugged, getting up and inspecting the marks on his friend’s back, “wow. i suppose y/n does have long nails, hmm?”

“yeah paid for by donghyun-ie, too!” sungho laughed, jaehyun nodding in shock at sungho’s words.

“you’re right!” jaehyun laughed, “wow i’d pay for my girl’s nails too if she did that to me.”

“and everything else,” sungho snorted, returning to his game.

leehan furrowed his eyebrows, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“everything else she was doing to you!” sungho laughed, his eyes not moving away from the screen, “you were moaning like crazy.”

“i just… do that for anything,” leehan defended weakly, taking a crisp from an open bag on the side.

“it’s not like he wasn’t doing it for her too, though,” jaehyun laughed, leehan could see he was revving up for one of his big moments, as jaehyun kneeled on the dining chair, beginning to mimic your moans loudly, “oh! donghyun! oh baby you’re so big! ugh! fuck me, please, donghyun!”

“alright, okay,” leehan spoke assertively, trying to calm him down.

“oh, donghyun!” sungho joined in, “need you!”

leehan’s face was solemn now, turning angry as he looked at his older friends.

“guys,” he said, his voice loud, “that’s my girlfriend, shut the fuck up please.”

jaehyun sniggered, agreeing in a way that pissed leehan off even more.

“you’re just fucking jealous you don’t get any,” leehan hissed, taking a swig of his drink.

sungho laughed loudly, trying badly to cover it up after.

“what?!” leehan yelled, “you have something to say?!”

“yeah,” sungho scoffed, nodding, “i never knew you were so jealous.”

“huh?”

“i’ve never seen you get angry before, donghyun-ah!” sungho exclaimed, excitement laced in his voice, “this is obviously what happens when you get jealous.”

“don’t have sex so loudly if you don’t want us to hear, donghyun-ah,” jaehyun teased, slapping leehan’s shoulder, the boy flinching as his hand landed on fresh wounds. “oh! i’m sorry! i really didn’t mean to.”

leehan’s voice was tight when he spoke, “it’s fine.”

woonhak 🧸 [fluff, poutybf!woonhak, fem!reader]

“ah why?!” you pleaded, tugging on your boyfriend’s arm, “just once! i just want to see!”

woonhak rolled his eyes dramatically, shaking his arm so your grip went with it, “no, y/n! i’m never going to bring you to my dorm, okay? stop asking.”

you sighed, exasperated, “i don’t see why not, woonie, i just want to see, you know i still live with my parents, it’s just interesting!”

“i wish i still lived with my parents,” he scoffed, picking at the tteokbokki the two of you had got from the stall outside your school, standing and eating on the corner as you hid your shivers under your padded coats and each others’ body heat.

“ah please!” you whined, stamping your foot as your boyfriend started to laugh, “you haven’t even given me a good reason why not!”

“come on,” woonhak laughed, thanking the grandma working at the stand as you began to walk home. you sighed, resigning your argument as you walked arm in arm.

“oh!” you exclaimed, slapping your boyfriend’s back excitedly, he looked at you with a shocked expression.

“ah what?!”

“it’s myung jaehyun!” you exclaimed, a shocked smile on your face at the man you’d heard and seen so much about, “oh! and riwoo!”

“stop calling them like that,” woonhak chastised, leaving your side to jog towards his members, “hyungs, what are you doing here?!”

“came to pick you up of course!” jaehyun exclaimed.

“i think we interrupted something though,” riwoo chuckled, seeing you arrive at woonhak’s side and take ahold of his arm again.

you bowed, greeting the two, “hello! i’m y/n.”

“of course,” jaehyun cooed, “we heard so much about you!”

you blushed, “really?”

“our woonhak never shuts up about you!” riwoo teased.

you smiled, the four of you beginning to walk home. jaehyun and riwoo talked your ear off the whole way, as you giggled and gushed over their words of praise and adoration for woonhak, and for you.

“y/n has to go now,” woonhak announced as you reached the top of your street.

“oh, i thought she’d come back to the dorm!” riwoo exclaimed. jaehyun nodded, “hey, come! taesan’s mum cooked a bunch of food for us that we’re gonna have tonight!”

“ah i want to! but woonie said i couldn’t come to the dorms…”

the two hyungs looked confused, turning towards woonhak as you did the same, looking at your boyfriend’s slightly guilty expression.

“it was because of this!” he suddenly burst, “hyungs, this is my girlfriend! let me talk to her at least, god!”

your eyes widened before you smiled, biting your lip to hold in your laugh; jaehyun and riwoo obviously not doing the same.

“i’m sorry, our baby,” jaehyun cooed, squeezing woonhak’s cheek as he protested more, “were we taking up too much of her time?”

woonhak rolled his eyes, suddenly growing embarrassed.

“let her come back to the dorm and you’ll have all the time in the world,” riwoo offered, woonhak sighing as he took your arm.

“come on then.”

[calypsocolada]

THE MEAN ONE | i. yoichi

synopsis: you're against love, deemed the mean one of the school but someone seems to think differently... authors note: this was such a blast to write. getting the creative juices flowing. I'll attribute that to imogen heap and the fact i listened to the walk by imogen probably fifty times while writing this. anyways this is the final part in my little soccer trio series. i hope you all enjoy! wc: 5.2k cw: angst, fem reader, not proofread click here for my masterlist!

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You had a nickname in school. You’d heard it a few times from your friend's boyfriend, a few times in passing, maybe once or twice at a soccer game. The mean one. The mean friend. The mean girl. Mean. Sure… most people might’ve thought an assertive woman was a mean woman. But… to be honest… You were a bit mean. You had to be. For the longest time you’d been ignored. Your parents in and out of the house on work trips. They were busy people. Too busy for their mean little daughter. Not that they caused it or anything by practically treating you like a specter. You never wanted things to be like that at school. You never wanted to be walked all over and ignored. You were tired of feeling like a ghost. So when something was wrong, or your feelings were hurt you didn’t bottle them up like you did back at home. So sure… maybe your words came out a bit sharper than anticipated. Coupled with the fact that a scowl fits better on your face than a smile. 

To be honest it didn’t really bother you much. The people closest to you knew your heart.

What did bother you was a loud mouthed know-it-all ball kicker named Isagi Yoichi that would not or simply could not leave you alone. It was like he was addicted to raising your blood pressure. Addicted to hearing you huff and call him names. Genuinely you were starting to wonder if there was something really truly wrong with him. But also… you didn’t like to think about him too much so you chalked it up to him being an idiot with a death wish. 

“It’s just… you talk about him so passionately. One has to wonder.” Your friend cut in the middle of your Isagi rant. You stopped dead in your tracks, your friend bumping into you. You thought she was a safe person to talk to about him since all your other friends banned you from complaining about him. You turned, a possibly manic look in your eyes as your friend stepped back, amused fear on her face as she bumped into Nagi. He’d been walking silently behind your friend, blushing.They’d gotten together last week and had been inseparable since. To your dismay. You didn’t believe in love, let alone ever felt the feelings associated with crushing on someone. You weren’t sure you were even capable of that. So sure you and your pessimistic self probably weren't the best to be around right now for your friend who was practically glowing. 

“It’s true, Y/n.” Nagi yawned, throwing an arm around your friend. “One has to wonder.”

“Who the hell asked you, sloth?” You hissed, eyes sharp as Nagi pouted. Your friend gave you a look, ruffling Nagi’s hair. 

“Be nice. And if Isagi bugs you so much, stop talking to him.”

“He talks to me!” You threw your hands up dramatically. “He seeks me out!”

“He likes you.” Nagi adds as your eyes cut to his like daggers. He froze under your stare. “Or not?” He shrugged as you gathered yourself. 

“You’re no help.” You pointed at your friend as she blushed, giggling. 

“And you called me dramatic!” She called after you as you halfheartedly waved to her as you walked to your car. You spotted the devil himself pulling his soccer bag out of the back of his car. Your guys' assigned parking spots just happened to be directly next to each other so no matter what you had to see him at least twice a day. And then sometimes you had to go to his practices for student council purposes, to make sure the club was running smoothly and what not.

You fished your key’s from your bag as you approached your car, clicking the button to unlock your doors. Isagi straightened at the sound, glancing over his shoulder as his eyes landed on you. You paid him no mind as you neared your car. 

“Headed home?” He asked casually. You didn’t answer. Just pulled your trunk open and tossed your backpack inside. “Thought you were coming to practice?” He asked.

“I was there yesterday.” You argued then silently cursed yourself for answering.

“You were?” Isagi questioned, tilting his head to the side, black hair falling over his forehead.

“Yes.” You answered shortly, slamming your trunk shut. 

“Must’ve missed you.” He said, gently shutting his own trunk, his eyes glued to your every movement. You met his eyes and wrinkled your brows at him.

“What?” You huffed. A crooked smile fitted to his lips as he leisurely leaned against his trunk. 

“You come to the practices but never the actual games.”

“Why would I come to the games?” You ask as Isagi raises his brows.

“To see me in action.” He says as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. You stared at him for a long moment. 

“Why the fuck would I wanna watch you in action?” You ask sharply as Isagi just laughs. There’s this thing about Isagi. No matter how annoyed or short you got with him it was like water off a duck's back. He never returned your anger, never bickered with you or huffed.

“Don’t you wanna see hard work pay off?”

“Your hardwork?” You ask as he nods his head and at that you shake your head. “Nope.”

“Come to a game.” Isagi asks as you shake your head. 

“No thanks.”

“Y/n… come on. Just one?”

“No.” You replied exasperatedly walking around towards the driver seat of your car as Isagi pushes off his car, following you.

“I’ll owe you.” He throws out as you pull your car door open.

“What?”

“I’ll owe you. Whatever you want in exchange for you coming to one of my games.” 

“Why the hell does it matter to you so much?” You hiss, turning around. Isagi looks at a loss for words for a moment.

“One game. That’s all I’m asking for.” He asks and there is this hopeful look in his eyes. You’d never been more confused in your life than this moment. Why did it matter to him if you came? 

“Did someone put you up to this?” You ask incredibly suspicious. Isagi shakes his head.

“No.”

“No?” You echo, your eyes insatiable as they dance across his face, trying and failing to read his expression. 

“No one put me up to anything.”

“Why ask me? We’re not friends. I don’t like you.”

“You don’t like me?” Isagi asks, a small knowing smirk on his lips.

“Isagi,” You cautioned as he scoffed out a laugh.

“It’s just one game. It won’t kill you. Plus I know your friend will be there, supporting Nagi.” Isagi points out as you scrunch up your face. 

“I don’t get you.”

“You don’t need to.” Isagi shrugs. “Just one game.” 

“Will you leave me alone for the rest of the school year if I go and watch you lose?” You ask sort of offhandedly with an exasperated sigh. You found yourself giving in. Isagi looks at you, there’s a strange expression on his face for a moment.

“You want that?” He asks and his voice is almost softlike, almost… hurt? But his expression changed in an instant and you wondered if you’d even heard him right in the first place. He laughed a breathy laugh, cocking his head to the side. “If that’s what you want then sure.” He sounded amused but he wasn’t meeting your eyes.

“Fine. One game.” You say cautiously, your face in a confused scowl.

“I’ll see you Friday night then.” He smirks, pushing off your car, tossing his soccer bag back over his shoulder. You watched him go, watching his wave down Nagi as they stalked off towards the field.

What the fuck just happened?

~

Friday came quickly. The week passed in a blur of cramming for tests and a whirlwind of student council projects. You barely had any time to think about your parking lot moment with Isagi. Him bargaining for you to come to one game. As your friend brushed and fixed her hair your mind wandered. It had tried to wander many times this week but you were able to block it out. Now that it was friday and barely half an hour before the game you couldn’t block it out anymore. You started thinking about Isagi. His motives. Did he want to embarrass you? 

Haha look who showed up to the game just cause I asked her!

Although you had a seemingly one sided dislike of the boy he was never outwardly cruel to you. In fact… you had always been the one starting things. You just… had a hard time believing someone would want to talk to you so goddamn much without a secret motive. As you pondered all this your friend pinched you. You yelped, rubbing your arm as she smirked at you.

“Why the sudden interest in coming to a game?” She asks as you shoot her a sharp look.

“There’s no interest, I’m just coming with you.” You shrugged. There was absolutely no way you were going to tell her about Isagi asking and you actually agreeing. 

“Right… So,” She turns you. “Did you hear about Rin and that new girl?” You couldn’t care less but you just shook your head as she rambled on about Rin Itoshi dating some girl who just moved to town a few months ago.

“Jealous?” You asked as your friend shook her head and smiled softly, a dreamy look in her eyes. She had Nagi, there was nothing for her to be jealous about. 

“Y/N?”

“Hm?” You hummed as you pulled your unruly hair back out of your face.

“Do you like anyone in school?” She asked, walking behind you and helping you braid your hair back out of your face. You scoffed a laugh and she tugged your hair slightly. “Don’t be like that. It’s not as embarrassing as you think it is.” She scolds you as you pout slightly. It was embarrassing. Saying you liked someone felt like a peak into your brain you just weren’t comfortable with letting happen. That and… you didn’t have a crush to mention anyways. 

“I don’t like anyone.” You say after a moment. “I’m the mean one remember.” You tease. Your friend must’ve heard something in your tone as she walks around to face you. 

“You aren’t mean. Did Nagi call you that recently? I told him to stop that shit.” She says protectively as you roll your eyes with a laugh.

“He hasn’t.” You amend. “But they all think so. And what do I care? That just means people will leave me be.”

“No one wants to be left alone all the time.” Your friend says, booping your nose, a small thing that has you cheering up a bit.

“I have friends. I have you. I’m good.” You wave her off, pushing to your feet. 

“That’s right, you have me.” She smirks. “Who cares about some ’know-it-all ball kicker’ you're obviously going to the game to watch.”

“You ruined a perfectly good moment.” You blush, pushing past her. “I’m not even dignifying that with a response.”

The game was just about starting by the time you and your friends arrived. You sat near the side of the field. You had watched plenty of practices. Watched drills and scrimmages and you never really considered yourself a sports person.

That’s because you’d never been to an actual live game.

“Come on! A fucking yellow flag!” You hissed, tossing your popcorn in anger. Your friend beside you looked at you with a mixture of horror and amusement. You ignored her. This other team was clearly getting special treatment from the referees. Every single thing the boys did seemed to earn them a flag. It was frustrating.

“They’re winning… by like a lot.” Your friend points out as you give her a sharp look.

“So what? Doesn’t change the fact that these refs are idiots!” You yell as a ref on the field turns, pouting. Your friend calls out sorry to him as you give him the death stare. 

“You’re way into this-”

“Hush,” You wave her off. Your eyes glued to Isagi as he sneaks up the side of the field, you watch him barely raise his head to Nagi who passes him the ball towards the left side of the goal. You grip your friend's arm hard as Isagi smashes the ball into the goal. You're on your feet in seconds as the crowd erupts in cheers, your poorly placed popcorn spilling onto the ground. You clap and cheer along with the crowd. They won 7-2. Your friend laughs hard at you, a knowing look in her eyes. 

Later you follow your friend as she pulls you through the crowd, the only time she lets go is when she spots Nagi. You watch as she takes off in a run, Nagi catching her midrun, spinning her around as she congratulates him. You watch them for a moment, a part of you feels strange. You watch your friend smile, you watch Nagi blush. Their secret moments on the crowded field. You swallowed something down, a sadness over something you didn’t understand. 

“I can’t believe it… you actually came.” A warm voice calls out to your right, you turn as Isagi pushes through the crowd over to you. His face is flushed from the game, hair pushed back off his forehead. He has this look on his face, a smile that makes your stomach twist. 

“I’m upholding my end of the deal.” You say back to him as he smiles, a soft laugh escaping him. You cross your hands defensively as something bubbles within you. “That was… a good game.”

“Just good? You seemed pretty passionate in those stands.” He smirks. You blush suddenly. Ah, he heard that. 

“Well… those refs were idiots. I stand by that.” You double down as he laughs again, fuller this time. He… had a nice laugh. A warm laugh that heated your insides. “And that final goal was… impressive. I guess.” You shrug, trying for nonchalant. 

“You guess?” Isagi echos, a beaming smile on his lips, it almost makes you smile. Almost. 

“Hey, Y/n!” Your friend calls out to you, you turn as she slams into you with a hug. “Nagi and I are gonna go get dinner. You can give her a ride home right, Isagi?” Your friend asks as you turn to her, brows furrowed, half formed curses on your lips.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Isagi agrees easily. 

“Hey! What-”

“Great!” Your friend interrupts. “Thanks Isagi. We’ll talk later, Y/n.” Your friend beams, running towards Nagi.

“What the hell! Hey!” You call after her but she’s in Nagi’s embrace as they walk off towards the parking lot. “Bitch!” Isagi scoffs a laugh at that as you turn to him. 

“I don’t mind.” He says, his eyes easy on yours. What the hell! Your friend knew everything, knew you disliked this boy… most of the time. And she left you with him. Left you as his problem to deal with. What a traitor. 

“Forget it. I don’t live too far. I can walk.” You wave off. You weren’t anyone’s problem. You’d gone to Isagi’s house before, for student council purposes, and taking you home would be out of his way.

“No.” Isagi shakes his head as he grabs his bag, tossing it over his shoulder. “It’s night time, Y/n, you can’t walk.”

“It’s out of your way though.” You point out and he gives you a look with a raised brow.

“So what?” He appealed.

“So… it’s a waste of gas.” You try to reason and he just laughs, shaking his head but when he goes to respond he’s interrupted. A girl from your class calls out to him. He turns as she beams up at him. You feel a twist in your gut at the interaction. She congratulates him on the win and blushes when he thanks her, a winning smile on his lips. The girl glances your direction, she blinks. 

“Y/n? I didn’t know you’d be here.” She greets as you shrug.

“Me neither.” You say as she looks between you and Isagi before looking you up and down. She pouts at something when she looks back at Isagi and when you turn to look at him he’s looking at you, a strange almost… soft expression on his face. You look away instantly.   

“Well… that last goal was something.” The girl directs the attention back to her as she reaches out, barely touching Isagi’s arm. “You’re really good at soccer, Isagi… you must practice a whole lot.” She bats her eyes and you're suddenly very aware that you don’t want to be a part of this conversation anymore. When she starts talking again you slowly slink away, weaving through the crowd back towards the parking lot, your knee jerk reaction winning. 

You couldn’t stand there another moment. For some reason that girl infuriated you. For some reason you felt warm and red and annoyed. These were feelings you didn’t understand and that freaked you out. When it came to fight or flight this time you chose flight. 

You passed the gate of the field and wrapped your arms closer to your body, shivering from the cold. You did not live close by whatsoever, it’d easily take you an hour to walk home. You supposed you could try and jog the whole way but who were you kidding, you read more than you moved. You pulled out your phone, looking through your contacts. Both your parents were out for the rest of the week. You couldn’t call your traitorous friend who caused all this in the first place and your other two friends you didn’t want to bother. You heaved a sigh. Walking it was…

“Y/n!” Isagi called, you heard his cleats slamming against the pavement as he searched for you. Embarrassment flooded your system and you were half tempted to duck and hide. But instead you stopped as he finally caught sight of you. A relieved sigh escaped his lips as he made his way to you, bobbing and weaving through the cars.

“You were seriously going to leave and walk home without saying anything?” He asked as you shrugged.

“You were… flirting so I thought i’d just-”

“Flirting?” Isagi echoes, shaking his head in a resolute way. “Not with her, no.” He leaves no room for discussion, no room for doubt in his steady tone.

“Oh I thought…” You trail off, clearing your throat, shivering from the cold. Isagi notices in an instant, pulling off his own jacket. He steps in your space, he’s taller than you, just barely. He throws the jacket over your shoulders, his hands still on the jacket as it’s on you. You two are close and when you tilt your head up your eyes meet his. There’s a spark of tension, it starts when he chances a touch. His hands just barely glide over your upper forearms, rubbing up and down to warm you. It ignites through you like a lit match, lighting you up from the point of contact all throughout your body. It makes you lightheaded and speechless, something you never were. You always had a quip, something to say, something to hide behind. But that spark, that fire had dismantled any coherent thought. It dulled your sharp tongue. 

“Come on, it’s cold out.” Isagi persuades softly and only when he pulls away do you find your wits. You blink a few times. How the hell does a short lingering touch have you in such a way? You blamed it on your lack of romance, you reasoned in a short amount of time that lack of attention clearly had you starving for any bone thrown your way.

Yeah.

Yeah. That’s it. You reasoned.

You followed Isagi, paused as he tossed his bag in the trunk and blushed when he opened the passenger door for you.

“I can open my own door.” You said but your words lacked their usual bite. 

“I know you can.” Isagi says. You slid inside and cringed at yourself. You wanted to smack yourself as your heart sped in your chest. You argue with this boy day after day but he gives you his jacket and suddenly you blush like a schoolgirl? You needed to get home quickly and also never speak to your friend ever again. Isagi jumps into the driver's seat, turning over his car as he fiddles with the heat. “Better?” He asks as you look at him sharply.

“It’s fine.” You answer curtly but if you sound annoyed he doesn’t pretend to notice. He smiles, putting the car in reverse as he backs out of the spot, one handed. You watch him and hate the fact that your eyes linger on his hands on the wheel. You tear your eyes away. What got you in this seat? Your friend left you… probably purposefully. You went to the game because Isagi asked? No, he made a deal… “I showed up to your game. Are you gonna hold up your side of the deal?” You asked. He promised not to talk to you the rest of the year and to be honest… you hoped he would because you felt something shift tonight. That strong feeling you claimed to feel for him for so long didn’t seem to fit anymore. That strong dislike was melting and the defensive measures built within you were reaching out pushing that wall back up with all its might. You couldn’t let him in. Your parents hated each other, they claimed it to be love. You had made a choice long ago that if that’s what love was then that’s not something you ever wanted to feel. Love was a sickness. You were lonely. It wasn’t going to be your cure. Some stupid boy wasn’t going to wreck you in one stupid night. This meant nothing. It couldn’t mean anything. As much as you didn’t want to be a ghost floating about life… you weren’t exactly ready to be seen like that. 

“The deal, huh?” Isagi asks lightheartedly. “And what was that again?”

“You’ll leave me alone… for the rest of the year.” You answer, your eyes flicking to the side of his face. He’s amused, you can see it in the curve of his mouth. He drums his fingers on the wheel.

“Ah. That…” He trails off. “You know… I seem to recall a little clause in that deal.”

“Hm?” 

“Well… when you made the deal you specifically said I’d have to stop talking with you if you came along and…”

“And?”

“Watch me lose.” He says, turning onto a main street. You furrowed your brows… that’s right… you did say that. Isagi stops at a red light, looking over at you. “Clearly… I didn’t lose.”

“That… that’s silly.” You shake your head, meeting his smirking look. “I just added that part to be a bitch, clearly.”

“Regardless of intention I don’t need to hold up my side of the deal, Y/n.”

“What? Y-you can’t just decide that! I came to the game and I stayed the whole time.” You argued back only half joking.

“Staying the entire time wasn’t a part of the deal. Now you're just adding things.” Isagi bantered as you huffed in your seat. All that prior spiraling out about love was put on hold, you had a bit of your mojo back.

“My choice words about losing was a caveat, a warning. That’s all. It wasn’t a part of the deal.”

“Ah… trying to use fancy words to confuse the jock, that’s below you.” Isagi jests, shaking his head as a bark of laughter escapes your lips. 

“I defined the word in the same sentence, Isagi.” You refuted.

“I’m sorry, this is out of your hands, Y/n. I’ve decided not to uphold my end.”

“You’re a man without honor!” You groaned, slumping in your chair. Isagi glances over at you, your eyes meet for a second before he descends into that same warm laughter like before. You watch him unashamedly, feel that same warmth bloom inside you. You can’t look away, can’t look away from his soft jawline, his bobbing adam's apple. He meets your eyes again as he pulls into your driveway, all the lights in your house are out, your home like a haunted house on the hill, no warmth. Isagi looks out at it.

“Your parents' home?” He asks in the quiet of the car.

“They’re on work trips.” You answer, he rolls his eyes back to you. You feel the weight of his stare, feel the warmth again and again and wonder if it’s going to burn you and leave scars. Would he trace your scars? You flinched at that thought. 

“When will they be back?”

“Next week sometime… I… I’m not actually sure.” You try for a lighthearted tone but your laugh falls flat as Isagi’s eyes search your face for answers you wouldn’t give willingly. 

“Y/n?” 

“Hm?” You hum and when you meet his eyes you suck in a breath at the intimateness of the moment. 

“Do you… really dislike me? Because…” Isagi asks and you hold your breath.

“Because?” You prompt. Isagi turns a bit in his seat, to face you better.

“Nagi thinks you mean it. That you hate me. That I’m… ruining my chance.”

“Your chance?” You can’t help but echo the words and watch Isagi’s face flush like back on the field as he shifts slightly uncomfortable in his seat. 

“Do I have one, Y/n? Or do you really hate me… It’s hard to tell sometimes.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You sigh, staring out at your empty house. “I know I can be mean.”

“You’re not mean, Y/n. I think you just don’t want too many people poking around your life.” Isagi points out and suddenly and dizzyingly you realize… maybe it’d be okay for Isagi to… poke around your life in his own words.

“Right,” You nod your head, tucking your hair back out of your face.

“So? Y/n do I have a chance with you? Because… I would really fucking like one.” A fierce blush spreads across your face at his words. 

“Why? Why would you want that?” You ask, insecure and shaken.

“I like you. I like talking with you. I think you're incredibly smart and driven. You’re pretty… really really pretty. And scary too.” He laughs. “Most of the guys at school are terrified of you.”

“For good reason.” You reckon, voice shaky from his confession.

“I’m glad they stay away from you. I don’t want the competition.” He says and his words pull a laugh from you as you meet his eyes again. 

“You don’t seem like the kind of guy to shy from a little competition.” You return as he shrugs.

“I said I didn’t want the competition, not that I’d shy away from you. When it comes to you I’d participate and I’d win. It’s what I do.” He smirks. You can’t help but roll your eyes. 

“What an ego.” You sigh. 

“You don’t have to answer me right now. Or ever if that’s what you decide.” He turns off the car. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your door.” You push open the door and he meets you around the front of his car. When you turn he stops you, a gentle hand on your forearm. You pause and he steps close to you, reaching. For a dizzying moment you think he’s going to make a move. But with a gentle hand he pulls the sides of his jacket that you're wearing together and he zips it up for you. You swallow dryly, eyes drifting shamelessly to his lips. You wanted him to kiss you. You want to kiss him. So damn badly. “My jacket looks good on you.” He smiles and you want to hit him because the flip your heart does is almost painful.

“You’re gonna freeze.” You reply.

“That’s a problem… What should I do?” He asks, a smirk on his lips. You meet his eyes. “Maybe you should share the warmth?” You think maybe you stopped breathing a while ago. 

“Maybe you should take some.” You force out. He looks in your eyes, his eyes dipping to your lips, they stay there for a few seconds.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please.” You reply in an instant and in another instant he’s leaning into your space, invading it with permission. One of his hands is sliding around your hip, he’s tugging you a step closer. Your hands are useless at your sides. You’ve never been kissed before. You didn’t know what to do. But Isagi made up for the lack of experience. His fingers spread apart in the small of your back as his other hand reached and softly cupped your face. He slid the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip and licked his own. You sucked in a breath. This moment all hands and shared breaths. “I don't…. Know what to do with my hands.” You whisper in the small dwindling space between your lips. He pauses, a hair's breadth away from your lips and you almost regret talking and pausing the moment. But he pulls back just a bit and he guides your cold hands with his warm hands up towards his neck. 

“Wrap your arms around me.” He speaks and his breath ghosts over your lips. Your arms wrap around his neck and he ducks down slightly, his hands slide over your hips as he doesn’t waste another second dipping his head and meeting your lips with his own. It’s a soft press at first. But that desperate hunger takes over and you're kissing as though he’d just arrived back from world war one. He’s pulling you impossibly closer; he's kissing you with a fervent need that makes you weak in the knees. He’s backing you up until the backs of your legs bump into his car and then he’s pulling you up and placing you on the hood of his car so the kiss isn’t interrupted for even a single moment. You shiver at the heightened moment, your skin hot beneath his warm jacket. “This means I have a chance, right?” He asks against your lips, eliciting a laugh as he kisses and kisses you again and again. “God… I have to get you inside.” He groans against your lips and you know he’s saying that because you're shivering from the cold. You miss the warmth of his kisses when he pulls back and pulls you from the hood of his car. “Come on.” He guides you to the front door. You fish your keys out and pause, turning back towards him. 

“You have a chance. If that wasn’t completely obvious.” You say and Isagi’s serious face softens. His hands are on you again, he’s pulling you in and you decide if thoughts of love make you spiral you’ll let this be something else. 

[kurosagi-h8r]

Hii love your little headcanons so I wanted to ask if you can do "what happens when mc asks the ghouls for dating advice"

I don't think mc would ever realistically ask them that but the reactions would be funny💀

WWWWWW SURE DO~~ But i'm gonna make this into parts because i don't think i'm strong enough i'm too frail to write for all of 'em in one go (no joke my shoulder pain has been killing me). so sorryyy ╯︿╰

Jin

Bold of you to assume he's gonna give you relationship advice when he can't fix his relationship with his papa

tbf he's probably gonna look at you weirdly and uhh remind you that you're his slave and nothing more and that any thought of being in a relationship with other people is forbidden

or ask you a bunch of question that will make you feel ashamed that you don't marry rich (with him as the standard) idk

Tohma

Will actually be a pretty decent guy to go for when it comes to dating advice... I think...

"blablablabla who's the guy? is it someone i know? blablabla I suggest you do this and that blablabla why not use me as an example? It won't do you any harm, no?"

"Will you update me on the progress? I don't want to be nosy, I'm simply looking out for you. Too many potential danger lurking in this place and I want nothing less than to sleep at night knowing that you're safe."

Very much biased but he can manipulate me all he wants and i will give in i won't even think twice about it

Kaito

This loser will start crying on the spot thinking that you found someone else already

"I-I never said I found someone..." and a lightbulb will come out of his head thinking that you were asking him SPECIFICALLY because HE is the one you're crushing on. "I've read somewhere that this is one of the things people do to find out more about their crush... THIS IS IT! THIS IS MY CHANCE!"

And all the advice he's giving you are the things that he wants you do to him

Not even gonna be ashamed about it go for it kaito

Luca

Most earnest in giving dating advice. He genuinely wants to help. He's even honored to be the one you go to for such important decision making.

Even if you do it to find out more about him, he's gonna be oblivious 😭 good luck

Honestly i don't have much words to back him up but personally, deep in my heart, i would go to this guy because i don't believe in myself when it comes to this kind of thing. i will trust you to set me in the right path luca ❤ i'll even trust you to beat up the shitty guy in my stead (lol)

Alan

Look me in the eye and tell me he has any dating experience

Not good with words but will stand behind you few steps away as you do what you want to do. Be it confessing your feelings or setting boundaries with your partner. For support 👍

Whether your partner finds it scary or not it's their problem

Surprisingly good at comforting maybe? If your partner breaks your heart and you don't feel like talking it out he will drive you around to clear your head.

Leo

"You're asking me? Oh my God you must be THAT desperate huh."

GIRL JUST ABORT MISSION ATP WHATEVER YOU'RE STRESSING OUT ABOUT IT'S GONNA GET WORSE IF YOU'RE SEEKING THIS GUY'S ADVI-- *got dragged away*

"Not gonna listen to all that. Why don't we just try making them jealous? You have me and I'm always down for a challenge~"

Ask yourself, which one is worse, making a deal with the devil or Leo?

Sho

Alright listen, depending on how dire the situation is i would want him to pretend to be my bf to make my partner jealous. HE'S PROBABLY GONNA HATE IT but i'm not one to pass up such opportunity /j

biker boyfriend to make your partner jealous??? why the hell not

I can feel him looking at me weirdly "you seriously coming to me for a relationship advice...?"

"How the hell would I know? Get them back with their favorite food? A way to someone's heart is to their stomach or whatever the saying goes." If it's cooking skill you're lacking maybe he can help a little.

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝔙𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔶 𝔰𝔲𝔭𝔭𝔬𝔯𝔱

Mike munroe x male reader

A request that I received from a really nice person here on tumblr: a small idea I liked for a fic if you like the idea as well. Nothing too big, just a fic about Reader and Chris being brothers and constantly nagging each other about their crushes on Ashley and Mike.

I expanded the request a bit, sorry if I went overboard with it. Hope you enjoyed it.

Tags: set before the event of the game. Male reader. He/him pronouns are used towards the reader. Chris and the reader are brothers. Some very quick shifts of pov between characters. Jealousy. Mike and Jess/ Emily are not together in this. Friends to lovers. Mike is a flirt.

Words count: 4000

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

𝔉𝔦𝔯𝔰𝔱 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢'𝔰 𝔞 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔪

𝔗𝔴𝔬 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔰 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬𝔤𝔢𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯

𝔄 𝔱𝔬𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲

𝔍𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔶 𝔞𝔱 𝔅𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔴𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔐𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔥 Part 2 of it

For anyone interested, I took inspiration from this clue that you can find while playing as Chris.

The music thumps in the background, a mix of bass-heavy beats and voices blending into a dull roar. You and Chris sit at a small, round table near the back, well out of the action but with a good view of everyone mingling.

"So," Chris says, taking a long, dramatic sip. "You actually spent the whole night staring at Mike. Dude, seriously, you're lucky your eyes didn't burn a hole in the back of his head."

You scoff, leaning back in your chair with a mock sigh. "Like you're any better. When are you actually gonna talk to Ashley? She's cool, she's cute, she's well, out of your league but hey, a guy can dream.”

"Hey, I do talk to her," Chris retorts, feigning offense.

"Uh-huh," you say, raising an eyebrow. "It’s a lot if you can manage to squeak out a sentence before turning red.”

Chris chuckles, crossing his arms. "Fine. Why don't you go up to Mike and tell him what you think? 'Hey, by the way, I've been thinking about how perfect your jawline is all night!’ I'm sure that'll go over great." He did a horrible interpretation of your voice to mock you even further.

You roll your eyes, feeling your cheeks flush just a bit. "First of all, I would never phrase it like that. And second, at least I actually know things about him beyond his favorite book."

"Oh, really? Let's see who knows more about their crush. No cheating. No wimping out. Winner gets bragging rights." Chris leans forward, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"Bragging rights? How about you admit I'm objectively hotter than you when I win?" you echoed, folding your arms.

"Sure. Whatever fantasy helps you sleep at night," Chris said, grinning as he dramatically cracked his knuckles. “I'll go first since I know you're just dying to hear all the juicy Ashley knowledge."

You chuckle. "Go with your in-depth research, Sherlock."

Chris clears his throat, sitting up straighter. "Fine. For starters, her favorite color is purple."

You make a face, unimpressed. "That's it? You think knowing her favorite color makes you the expert here?"

"Let me finish, smartass. She loves thriller movies. She also has this little habit of chewing on her nails when she's nervous."

You raise an eyebrow, genuinely impressed but unwilling to give him the satisfaction. "Okay, okay, not bad. But that's kid stuff. Let me show you how it's done."

Chris rolls his eyes, clearly not expecting much. "Alright, hotshot. Give me your best Mike trivia."

You sit forward, lowering your voice like you're letting him in on a secret. You have always been good at noticing things. Maybe it was a result of growing up with Chris and when it came to Mike Munroe, your crush, the small things were more than just interesting, they were revealing.

For one, every morning, without fail, he was up before the sun. He’d go for a quick run to stay in shape. You’d always catch glimpses of him at college heading back to his room in a tank top, earbuds in, eyes focused ahead and glimpses of sweat on his forehead.

He had this tough, confident exterior. He wasn’t loud like some of the others in the group. He had a way of using humor to deflect, to keep people from getting too close. You saw it when he’d brush off any talk about specific topics.

And then there were his tastes.

He likes his coffee black. Pretends it's macho. He had a surprising amount of nostalgia in his preferences. You couldn’t forget the time you’ve talked together casually on the lodge, his face lighting up as he talked about his love for old action movies.

Chris raises an eyebrow. "Alright. Maybe you’re better equipped than me. But, let's be real, you wouldn't even know where to start."

"Better than starting with nothing," you counter. "Besides, I could charm him if I wanted to."

Chris raises an eyebrow. "What would you even say?"

You grin, leaning in like you're revealing a grand plan. "I'd just walk up and ask him about his football season. Mention that time he scored the winning touchdown. You instead are hopeless"

Chris nods, pretending to take you seriously. "Oh, sure, because that'll definitely make him swoon. Hopeless? Me?" Chris laughs, leaning back with a smirk. "At least I don't have to worry about being mistaken for a stalker."

You both burst into laughter. For all the banter, you know neither of you would really judge the other for these harmless crushes. It's what makes the night so much fun.

From across the room, you caught sight of Ashley standing awkwardly near a table stacked with half-empty snack bowls and crumpled napkins. She shifted from foot to foot, clearly trying to blend into the background.

"Hey, Romeo. This is your chance," you said, leaning closer and nudging Chris with your elbow.

Chris snapped out of his trance, his head swiveling toward Ashley. His brows furrowed slightly, the corners of his mouth tugging upward in amusement before settling back into a more thoughtful expression.

Chris groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "What am I supposed to do? Walk up and make everything even more embarrassing?"

"News flash: she knows you're a loser," but she clearly likes you anyway. Stop overthinking it. Just go talk to her. Be romantic for once. She loves that whole 'awkward and sincere' thing you've got going on."

"First of all," Chris said, pointing a finger at you, "I'm not awkward. I'm, uh, charmingly self-aware. Second, what if I say something dumb? Or worse, nothing at all? I can't just walk up to her and-"

"You're a coward," you interrupted, shaking your head in mock disappointment.

"Yep," he said, popping the "p" and lifting his cup in mock toast.

You were scanning the room until your gaze landed on Mike Munroe.

He was leaning casually against the wall, drink in hand, chatting with a girl you vaguely recognized from English class. His tuxedo fit him perfectly, tailored in all the right places, the dark fabric catching the light just enough to highlight his athletic build. The black foulard tied loosely around his neck was an elegant touch, a little different from the usual bow ties and neckties most guys wore. His hair was perfectly tousled, like he hadn't even tried but still managed to look effortlessly handsome.

You felt your chest tighten. For a moment, your imagination betrayed you, painting a picture of Mike turning toward you, smiling like he did when he told one of his dumb jokes when he got elected class president. You could almost hear his laugh, warm and inviting, as if it were just for you. But reality snapped back into focus when the girl he was talking to leaned closer.

"Mike would never look twice at me like that." You mumble more to yourself without thinking, unable to keep the disappointment from your voice.

Chris, placed a hand on your shoulder. His touch was light but reassuring. "Don't do that to yourself. You're a catch. If Mike doesn't see that, he's an idiot."

You looked up at him, grateful but unconvinced. Chris stood up, brushing imaginary lint off his jacket. "I'm getting us drinks. Let's make it through the rest of this night together, yeah?"

You nodded, watching as he made his way to the bar. You glance around, your gaze landing once more on Ashley and an idea strikes you. Chris is now far away from your position. It’s your chance to do something.

You stride over to her, flashing a friendly smile, keeping your movements casual so you wouldn't startle her. Her eyes widened slightly when she noticed you, but she relaxed as you softly took her arm.

"Hey," you said, grinning playfully as you gently guided her away from the corner.

Ashley laughed, the sound light and genuine. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice tinged with amusement but no resistance as you led her toward your table.

"Come on, you can't let Chris and I have all the fun sitting in the corner judging everyone." you replied, glancing over your shoulder with a mock-serious expression.

"That's what you two have been doing all night? Very productive." She scanned the place as you reached the table and she managed to spot Chris at the bar, meticulously mixing something with an unusual level of focus. But then her gaze shifted, catching Mike watching the two of you.

Jaw set, lips pressed into a firm line, eyes tracked the way you gently tugged Ashley along. His gaze lingered on your hand before flicking back up to your face. Lips pressed together in a faint, almost imperceptible scowl, as though something about the sight of the two of you together unsettled him. There was a slight tension in his posture, the way his shoulders seemed just a bit too stiff for someone casually enjoying a party.

Chris returned with two drinks in hand. "Okay, I've done it," he announced dramatically. "The ultimate drink. If you don't like it, I'm never speaking to you ag-" He cut himself off mid-sentence when he saw Ashley sitting at the table, smiling up at him.

"I... uh..." Chris stammered, turning an impressive shade of pink.

"You made this for me?” Ashley asked sweetly, taking the drink from his hand before he could respond. “Thank you, Mr. Bartender."

Chris blinks and he lets out a nervous laugh, giving you a quick glare as he hands the drink to Ashley.

She giggles, taking a sip and you watch as Chris visibly relaxes. They share a smile and there's a warm, unspoken understanding between them, a quiet moment that you can't help but feel a bit envious of.

The music shifts, slowing into a softer, more romantic melody. Couples move onto the dance floor, swaying together in a slow embrace. Ashley’s eyes light up as she turns to Chris, her cheeks flushed with a faint rosy tint from the slight inebriation she feels. "Come on, Chris," she says, tugging at his hand. "Want to go there for a bit?"

Chris's eyes dart to you, searching your face for reassurance, his expression almost apologetic. He's asking, without words, if you'll be okay.

You manage a smile, giving him a nod.

Chris lets out a laugh, his tension melting away as he lets Ashley pull him onto the dance floor. They disappear into the crowd, leaving you alone at the table. You watch them go, feeling a bittersweet pang in your chest as you take in the sight of them together, laughing and smiling, fitting together so effortlessly. Chris fumbling his way through the first few steps before finding his rhythm.

They looked so happy.

And you were here instead, alone at the table, your thoughts inevitably drifting back to Mike.

Chris feels his heart race as he stands on the dance floor, his hands resting lightly on Ashley's waist, her arms draped over his shoulders as they sway to the gentle rhythm of the music. Her gaze meets his every so often, a smile warm and genuine, making him feel like the only person in the room.

"I didn't know you had these moves." she teases, her eyes twinkling.

Chris chuckles, shaking his head. "Oh, trust me, I don't. I'm just doing my best not to crush your toes."

Ashley laughs, her grip tightening on his shoulders as she rolls her eyes. "You're doing just fine. I don't mind if you, you know, relax a little."

"Relax? Yeah, I can... I can do that," he says, voice faltering as he tries to ease into the rhythm, matching her movements as the song continues.

His focus wavers after a while, gaze drifting over her shoulder as he catches sight of his brother sitting across the room at one of the tables with Matt nearby.

There's something off about the way you're holding yourself. You're smiling, sure, even laughing at something Matt is saying, but Chris can tell that the smile doesn't quite reach your eyes. It's the kind of forced expression he's seen on you before, usually when you're trying to act like everything's fine when it really isn't.

Matt, on the other hand, seems entirely oblivious, leaning in a bit too close, his face lit up with that typical over-eager grin. He's almost leaning into your personal space as he chats away, looking way too thrilled to have your undivided attention, his eyes never leaving yours. The proximity feels a bit too familiar, too comfortable, with his arm casually resting on the back of your chair.

Chris feels a pang of protectiveness twist in his gut. He glances around the room, half-expecting Emily to appear and pull Matt back to the dance floor, but there's no sign of her. Instead, he spots her on the far side of the room, tipsy and laughing as she spins around with some stranger she's apparently mistaken for Matt. She's caught up in the music, oblivious to the fact that her boyfriend is practically glued to your side.

Ashley notices his distraction, her gaze softening as she studies him. "Chris?" she asks, her voice gentle, bringing him back to the moment. "Is everything okay?"

He blinks, snapping his attention back to her, guilt creeping in as he realizes he's been distracted. "Yeah, yeah, sorry," he says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Just... got a lot on my mind."

Ashley smiles, tilting her head as she searches his face. "You sure? You can tell me, you know."

Chris hesitates, glancing around the room one more time. His gaze lands on Mike, who's slow-dancing with the girl in glittering dress. She's leaning against him, her head resting on his chest, but Mike's attention isn't on her.

His eyes are locked in your direction, his brow furrowed and his jaw set in a subtle scowl that's hard to miss. There's a tension in his gaze as he watches you and Matt together. There's a faint scowl tugging at his mouth, a subtle clenching of his jaw that makes it look like he's holding back the urge to step in but doesn't quite know how to act on it. His brows are drawn together and his eyes flick between you and Matt with a guarded intensity.

Chris frowns, glancing back at you. It's clear now that something is brewing beneath the surface, something he doesn't fully understand but can sense all the same. He looks down at Ashley, his expression softening as he makes up his mind.

"Hey, Ash?" he asks quietly, feeling a bit awkward but determined. "Would you mind helping me out with something real quick? I, uh... I owe someone a favor.”

You were mid-laugh at something Matt had said about his latest sports practice when a shadow loomed over the table. You looked up to find Mike standing there, holding his drink loosely in one hand and the other casually tucked in his pocket.

"Hey, Matt," Mike said, his tone light but carrying a subtle edge like he's asking for a favor he already expects to be granted. "Mind if I steal him for a bit?"

Matt's smile falters, and he glances at you, a bit reluctant, as if he doesn't quite want to let go of the moment he's carved out. "Uh... well, we were just-"

"Looks like Emily's about to make out with that guy," Mike interrupted, tilting his head toward the dance floor. "You might wanna handle that before it gets messy."

Matt whipped his head around, his face paling slightly as he spotted Emily drunkenly giggling and leaning far too close to the stranger. "Shit," he muttered, scrambling to his feet. "I'll, uh, catch you later." he says to you, giving you a quick nod before he disappears into the crowd.

"Yeah, sure," Mike said smoothly, his smirk widening as Matt hurried off. You glance back at him just in time to catch a wicked grin flash across his face as he watches Matt weave his way toward Emily.

He turns back to you and without a moment's hesitation, he slides into Matt's now-empty chair, shifting it even closer to yours with an obnoxiously loud scrap of wood against the floor. He dropped into the seat with a satisfied sigh. His arm resting along the back of your chair but soon sliding fully around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him.

The warmth of his body, the faint scent of his cologne, earthy with a hint of spice, made your thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. From this close, you could see every detail of his face: the light beard perfectly trimmed along his jaw, the sharp angle of his cheekbones, the infuriatingly perfect way his smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth. He was leaning into his persona, that cocky, playful charm cranked up to eleven and it was doing things to your brain you weren't sure you were ready to admit.

"Well, this is cozy," Mike said, his voice low and smooth. "Didn't think Matt was ever gonna leave. Guy's got some stamina for talking, huh?"

You blinked, struggling to form words. "Uh, yeah. He's chatty"

Mike chuckled, the sound warm and teasing "Chatty? That's the nicest way to put it. Bet he's been boring you to death, huh?"

"Not entirely," you said, though your voice was far too shaky to be convincing. "He's enthusiastic."

Mike raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying how flustered you were. "You're too nice, you know that? If I had to sit through more than five minutes of that guy's rambling, I'd be asleep in my chair."

You laughed, though it came out a little too breathy. "Maybe I'm just better at pretending to be interested."

"Pretending, huh?" Mike's smirk widened. "So, what about me? Are you pretending to enjoy this little moment we're having?"

Your brain short-circuited. "I... I mean, no. I-uh... you're not boring. Definitely not boring."

"Good to know," Mike said, his voice dipping slightly as he leaned in just a fraction closer. "I'd hate to think I was putting you to sleep."

"You're not," you managed to say, your face burning.

Mike grinned, clearly reveling in your flustered state. "You're cute when you're nervous, you know that?"

“I’m not nervous,” you said quickly, though your gaze flickered away from his, betraying you.

“Sure you’re not,” Mike murmured, his fingers brushing just a little too close against your shoulder, the touch lingering for a beat longer than necessary. “What were you and Matt talking about? You looked a little bored." His tone was smooth but there was a faint edge to it now, like he was testing the air.

You noticed the subtle shift in his expression. His jaw tightening just slightly, his eyes narrowing for a fraction of a second as if he didn’t quite like the idea of you and Matt sharing a private moment.

You shrugged, trying to sound casual. "Just sport stuff and his latest victory for his team. He was just being friendly,” you added, trying to sound indifferent.

You didn’t miss the slight tightening of his jaw, the way his eyes flickered just briefly toward the ground before locking onto yours again.

Mike’s lips quirked into a knowing smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, he looked real friendly.” The smirk that followed didn’t help, pulling at the corner of his mouth as if he was more amused than you thought he should be.

You raised an eyebrow, narrowing your eyes at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

For a moment, Mike just stared at you, his expression unreadable. “Nothing,” he said too quickly, the innocence in his voice so forced that you could almost feel the tension cracking around him. The grin stretched wider, like a challenge. “Just saying, if I didn’t know better, I’d think Matt was hitting on you.”

Your breath caught in your throat and a flush of heat spread across your cheeks. You tried to play it off, but there was no denying the way your heart stuttered in your chest. “He wasn’t,” you said quickly, your voice coming out a little more defensively than you intended.

"Either way. Figured I'd come over and I don't know... make the night more interesting for you. Prom only happens once, right? Gotta make the most of it. Besides—” His voice softens, his gaze locking onto yours with a sincerity that takes you off guard. "—I've been waiting for an excuse to spend some time with you."

You swallow, feeling the heat rise to your face as his words sink in. "You have?"

"Yeah," he murmurs, his thumb grazing your shoulder in a slow, deliberate motion. "I mean, I could've come over sooner but you were busy with your brother. Then you were with Matt and I figured, maybe it's time I got a little selfish."

The intensity in his gaze makes it hard to breathe and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him, caught between disbelief and exhilaration. "I... didn't think you noticed me like that," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mike's grin softens, his hand moving from your shoulder to gently rest on your waist, pulling you even closer. "I notice a lot more than you think," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "Like how you always look away when you think I'm watching, or how you get that little crease in your forehead when you're trying not to smile too much."

Mike makes a silent note to himself to later thank Chris for the insights he’d shared minutes ago.

You laugh, feeling both embarrassed and overjoyed. "Okay, now you're just showing off."

He chuckles, his arm tightening around your waist as he dips his head a bit closer, his voice a soft murmur. "Can't help it. You’ve got me so close to losing it and you don’t even realize it." His fingers press gently into your side.

“Dance with me,” he murmurs, his voice low and laced with a tenderness that surprises you. There’s a quiet intensity in his eyes, a vulnerability that makes your heart race. “Let me be the happiest guy in this place tonight.”

You feel your pulse race at the invitation, your mind whirling with both excitement and uncertainty. "What about that girl you were with?" you ask, your voice quiet and hesitant, unable to stop yourself from wondering.

Mike's smirk returns, his hold on your waist tightening slightly as he leans in, his voice a soft, almost possessive murmur. "She's not you. You’re the only one I can’t get out of my head.” His voice is rough, coated in something darker.

You meet his gaze, feeling your breath hitch as you search his face, trying to process the weight of his words.

He takes his chance to lean in, his lips brushing softly against yours in a kiss that leaves your heart racing. His lips crashing into yours with a desperate urgency that leaves you reeling. His hand slides around your waist, fingers tightening as he pulls you against him. The heat of his body sears through your clothes, and his thumb traces a slow, deliberate line along your cheek, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

When he finally pulls back, his lips are swollen, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, that familiar cocky edge in his eyes. His eyes burn with that familiar, dangerous gleam-a challenge, a promise. His breath is ragged, as if he's barely holding back.

"Still up for that dance? Because I've got this new boyfriend I'd really like to show off." he whispers, his voice low and teasing. His breath brushes your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. He looks at you with that trademark mischievous grin, the one that could melt anyone’s defenses.

A rush of warmth floods your chest at his words, a mixture of giddiness and disbelief. Your heart skips, caught between the sweetness of the moment and the thrill of his presence. The corners of your mouth twitch up as you meet his gaze, and though you can barely keep your composure, you nod.

Mike's grin widens and as he takes your hand, guiding you to the dance floor, you feel as if you're floating, lost in the warmth of his gaze and the excitement of being his.

Note: if you liked this, please leave a comment. I love reading them <3

[nevernonline]

✧.* pancakes for dinner; svt smau

chapter 08; old wounds. (written)

✧.* synopsis: y/n while in her third year at greenwood international university finally gets an opportunity to move off campus into a new complex, she has to deal with the realization that her childhood rival is her new next door neighbor.

 paring: seungcheol x fem! reader. 

feat: non-idol! svt, nct mark&jaehyun, other passing idols ykyk.

genre/s: reader is super oblivious, fluffy, sexual themes. 

content: swearing, mentions of sexual relations, some drinking& mary jane 🍃

updates: weekly

tag list - open

word count: 5.5k

masterlist ▸ 07. shaken up not stirred ▸ 09. are we really doing this?

The cool night air nipped at Y/N's skin as she strolled briskly down the dimly lit street. It was far too quiet for comfort, but Y/N tried to shake the nerves prickling at the back of their neck. Her phone buzzed furiously in her hand as the group chat lit up like fireworks.

"y/n where’d u go??" It was Hoshi, always the anxious one. Y/N grinned to themselves, typing back a quick reply. "I thought you guys left?? omg i'm walking rn?? LMAO"

Not even a second later, another notification came through, this time from Yuqi: "we told you we’d be outside when you went pee??? wtf."

Y/N rolled her eyes, her thumbs flying across the screen. "LMAO im not alone, plus im fully sober rn so im okay!!"

A dramatic gasp emoji popped up from Yuqi, followed by: "i saw you take a shot? also not alone? 👀👀👀"

Y/N chuckled, thinking back to the single shot she’d taken hours ago at the party. One shot, one drink. That didn’t count, right? She glanced up briefly, spotting the tall, broad-shouldered figure of Mingyu walking beside her. He towered like a protective shadow, his face illuminated faintly by the pale moonlight.

"You're quiet," Y/N teased, nudging him. "Are you plotting something, or just sad your phone died?"

Mingyu groaned dramatically. "Sad. Definitely sad. I feel cut off from the world, Y/N."

Y/N snorted as she tapped out another message to the group chat. "okay one shot at 8pm and it’s now almost midnight, so pretty much. also im w/ mingyu and wonwoo if you guys were even remotely concerned about him. his phone died but he said he’s sad."

Yuqi’s response came almost immediately: "Mingyu is like an over 6 foot beef cake he’s okay??"

Y/N burst out laughing, Mingyu glancing down at her with a puzzled look.

"What?" he asked, leaning in to peek at the screen.

"Nothing," Y/N said quickly, shoving the phone back into their pocket. "Just our friends roasting you. Again."

By the time Y/N and Mingyu made it back to the house, the rest of the group had already gathered in Hoshi’s room, sprawled across the mismatched blankets and cushions. Hoshi looked up immediately, relief washing over his face.

"Finally," he said with a smirk. "We were about to send a search party."

Y/N rolled their eyes. "I had bodyguards, okay? Mingyu and Wonwoo had me covered."

Mingyu chimed in from the other side of the room. "Why Hoshi’s room, though? This place looks like a tornado hit it."

"He literally offered to help me clean it yesterday. Now he’s just being a dick." Hoshi fired back, crossing his arms.

As the room filled with laughter and banter, Y/N’s phone buzzed again—this time a private message from Chaewon: "y/n y/n y/n on the shuttle!! I saw your friends, where are you?!!"

Y/N quickly typed back, "just got to the house rn. we grabbed you some food for when you come 🫡"

Moments later, a reply came: "omg shut the fuck up ily. also wait so… some tea."

Y/N’s heart raced at the sudden change in tone. She leaned against the doorframe, typing back cautiously. "oop ✋ spill."

Chaewon’s next messages came rapid-fire: "well im behind seungcheol and seungkwan on this bus rn. and they’re not talking out loud but i can see them texting each other. and did you know seungcheol has a crush on you?"

Y/N’s jaw dropped, her pulse thundering in their ears. She stared at the screen, her friends’ laughter fading into the background.

"Y/N?" Mingyu’s voice broke through their thoughts. "What’s up?"

Y/N quickly locked her phone, plastering a grin on their face. "Nothing! Just… tea. You know how it is."

But inside, y/n’s thoughts spiraled. Seungcheol? A crush? On her? No fucking way

The night wasn’t supposed to spiral into chaos. Y/N had planned to stick with her friends, sip on vodka, and head home to her cozy ass bed. But now, surrounded by laughter, whispers, and more drama than a reality show, things were unraveling faster than they could process.

The moment they read Chaewon’s message, her world tilted.

"Seungcheol has a crush on you."

The words replayed in her mind like a broken record, even as she shoved the phone into her pocket, desperately trying to act normal. Chaewon didn’t elaborate, of course. She always left the juiciest details hanging, probably cackling on the shuttle right now.

"Y/N, you’re zoning out." Wonwoo’s voice brought her back to the room. His tone was calm, but his eyes were sharp—he noticed everything.

"I’m fine," Y/N lied, forcing a smile.

"Fine doesn’t look like that," Mingyu said, plopping down on the couch beside her. He nudged her shoulders with his. "Spill. What’s got you looking like you saw a ghost?"

"Nothing. Seriously, I just need to catch a second wind. Can’t we just go downstairs and drink and shit now? Come on." Y/N said, a little too quickly.

Before anyone could press further, the door creaked open, and a familiar figure stepped in. The room went silent for half a second before someone shouted, "VERNON?"

Y/N whipped her head around. Sure enough, there was Vernon—hands stuffed in his pockets, looking effortlessly cool yet slightly awkward as he took in the chaos of Hoshi’s room.

"Hey," he said casually, his gaze flickering to Y/N almost instinctively.

"You came!" Y/N blurted out, standing up before she had even realized it.

"Guess I did," Vernon said with a small smile. "Figured it was about time."

The room erupted into cheers and jeers, the group immediately teasing him for finally showing up to a party. Mingyu pulled him into a one-armed hug, ruffling his hair like an annoying older brother.

"Look at you, Mr. Social Butterfly," Mingyu teased. "Did Y/N guilt-trip you into this?"

Vernon’s ears turned pink, but he shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe I just wanted to see what all the hype was about."

Y/N felt their cheeks heat up but quickly changed the subject. "Alright, leave him alone. Vernon’s here to have fun, not be interrogated."

"Fun? Here?" Vernon smirked, raising an eyebrow.

Y/N shoved him lightly, the playful banter putting them both at ease—at least for the moment.

As the night wore on, the group split into smaller clusters. Mingyu and Wonwoo disappeared to the kitchen to grab snacks, Yuqi and Hoshi were locked in a heated debate about whose room was messier.

That left Y/N and Vernon sitting on the porch steps, the cool air buzzing with unspoken words. The lit end of a joint sitting between them.

"You good?" Vernon asked, breaking the silence.

"Yeah," Y/N said automatically, but Vernon wasn’t buying it.

"You’re a terrible liar," he said, leaning back on his elbows. His voice was soft, teasing, but there was an edge of concern.

Y/N sighed, debating whether to spill everything. But Vernon had this way of making her feel safe—like she could tell him anything, and he’d never judge.

"Okay, fine," Y/N admitted. "Chaewon may or may not have just told me that… someone has a crush on me. But, it’s not someone I really.. Uh, enjoy to put it sort of lightly."

Vernon’s expression didn’t change much, but Y/N noticed the way his fingers twitched slightly against the step.

"Yeah?" he asked, his voice calm. "And how do you feel about that?"

Y/N hesitated. "I don’t know. It’s Seungcheol."

This time, Vernon’s poker face faltered. His lips parted slightly, and his gaze dropped to the ground.

"Seungcheol," he repeated, his tone unreadable.

"Yeah," Y/N said, suddenly feeling awkward. "I mean… I didn’t even know he thought about me like that. To be honest I can’t understand why he’d ever, like we always hated each other. It’s fucking dumb."

Vernon was quiet for a long moment before he finally spoke. "Have you ever thought about him like that?"

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. "I mean… no? Definitely not anymore, maybe for a brief moment in time when I was in highschool, but."

"But?" Vernon pressed gently, looking at them now, his eyes searching y/n’s as he inhaled the flower.

"But…" Y/N trailed off, feeling her heart pick up speed. The words hung heavy in the air, unspoken but crystal clear.

"You’re too nice to everyone, you know," Vernon said suddenly, his voice quieter now. "Sometimes I wonder if you realize how many people look at you and wish they were the one you noticed. So I get it. But, you also don’t owe him anything especially with what went down the first time."

Y/N’s breath hitched, the weight of his words sinking in.

"Vernon…"

"I’m not saying this to mess with you," he continued, his gaze steady. "I’m just telling you the truth."

Y/N felt like the ground had been ripped out from under them. Vernon’s calm, collected demeanor was gone, replaced by something raw and vulnerable.

"I…" Y/N started, but their voice faltered.

"It’s okay," Vernon said quickly, standing up before she could respond. "I just needed to say it. You don’t have to say anything back. Chaewon is coming straight for us and you guys should talk, I’ll find you inside, okay? I expect you to make it worth my time out of my room later.” 

“You got it. But you don’t have to leave.” 

Before Y/N could stop him, Vernon handed her the rest of the joint, gave her a small kiss on top of her head and walked back into the house, leaving her alone on the porch with their thoughts.

Y/N stared at the lit joint in her hand, Vernon's words replaying in her mind like a haunting melody. The faint sound of laughter and music from inside the house drifted through the open door, grounding y/n just enough to notice Chaewon stepping onto the porch.

She wasn’t alone, of course—Chaewon was never truly alone. She had an effortless way of carrying an aura of confidence that turned heads. But tonight, her sharp gaze was focused entirely on Y/N.

"Are you hiding out here, or did Vernon leave you for some deep, weird, emotional soul-searching?" Chaewon asked, sliding onto the step beside her without waiting for an invitation. She reached for the joint in Y/N's hand, taking a drag as if it were hers to begin with.

"Both, maybe?" Y/N muttered, running a hand through her hair.

Chaewon blew out a puff of smoke, raising an eyebrow. "Both? Interesting. Spill it, bitch. I can tell you’re on the way to spiraling."

Y/N groaned, tilting her head back to look at the stars. "You’re literally part of the reason I’m spiraling."

"Me?" Chaewon gasped dramatically, placing a hand on her chest. "What did I do?"

"You told me about Seungcheol," Y/N hissed, sitting up straight to glare at her. "And now my brain won’t shut up about it."

Chaewon shrugged, looking entirely unbothered. "I just thought you deserved to know. Not my fault if you’re overthinking it. Also, I cannot sit on a juicy secret like that for too long."

"Of course I’m overthinking it." Y/N laughed. "It’s Seungcheol. You know how much history we have. And not the good kind."

"Exactly," Chaewon said  "Which is why I figured you’d want to know. Better to hear it from me than to have him confess out of nowhere, right? Or someone else finding out, as if Seungkwan hasn’t run the college gossip page before."

Y/N sighed, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. "What ever happened to that? I mean not the point right now I guess. But still it’s just weird. Like, why now? And why me?"

Chaewon smirked. "Have you ever considered that maybe he was pretending not to know you so you can start fresh with him because he likes you? Men can be dumb asses like that."

"Chaewon," Y/N groaned, burying their face in their hands.

"Okay, okay," Chaewon said, laughing softly. "Let’s backtrack. Do you like him? At all? Like, are you willing to try to be his friend or co-exist or whatever?"

"No," Y/N said firmly. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, they added, "I mean, I used to. A long time ago. But that was before all the shit happened."

Chaewon nodded, her expression thoughtful. "Fair enough. So what’s the problem, then? Just let him down easy and move on. You’re not obligated to feel the same way."

"It’s not that simple," Y/N muttered.

"Why not?" Chaewon pressed.

Y/N hesitated, her thoughts swirling. "Because.."

"Ah. Wait– I see." Chaewon’s eyes lit up with understanding. She leaned back, a sly grin spreading across her face. "So that’s what’s really going on."

"Don’t," Y/N warned, but Chaewon was already on a roll.

"Vernon comes out to a party for the first time in forever, and suddenly you’re out here sharing a joint and having heart-to-hearts. Sounds pretty romantic if you ask me."

"It’s not like that," Y/N said firmly, but even she didn’t sound convinced.

"Sure it’s not," Chaewon said, rolling her eyes. "Listen, Y/N. You’re my friend, so I’m going to give it to you straight. You’ve spent so much time worrying about everyone else’s feelings—Seungcheol’s, Vernon’s, whoever’s—that you’re forgetting to think about your own. So what do you want?"

Y/N opened her mouth to respond, but the words didn’t come.

Chaewon took one last drag from the joint before stubbing it out on the porch step. "Figure it out, my baby girl. Because if you don’t, someone’s going to get hurt. And it’s probably going to be you."

With that, she stood up, smoothing out her skirt and tossing her hair over her shoulder.

"Oh, and one more thing," she added, glancing back at Y/N. "You’re a fucking catch and if you don’t see that by now, you’re even denser than I thought."

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, but before she could respond, Chaewon grabbed her hand pulling her back inside and distract her with the party.

The night didn’t end on the porch for Y/N. By the time she re-entered the house after her conversation with Chaewon, the energy of her day had shifted into something more chaotic but liberating. The dim lighting and thumping bass created a atmosphere that wrapped Y/N in its haze, making her forget her issues even just momentarily 

Mingyu was now on the coffee table, dancing without a care, and Yuqi had somehow coerced Hoshi into an impromptu dance-off. Wonwoo, seated on the couch, shook his head at them, nursing a drink with a quiet grin.

“Y/N! Finally!” Yuqi shouted over the music when she spotted her, grabbing her arm and dragging her into the middle of the room. “You’ve been moping for too long. Time to drink.”

“I wasn’t moping—” Y/N began to protest, but Yuqi cut her off by twirling her into a spin.

“Yes, you were, you little lying whore. But not anymore.”

As the music shifted to an upbeat track, Y/N decided to let go, her earlier tension melting into the rhythm. She danced, laughing with Yuqi, dodging Mingyu’s wild arm movements, and matching Hoshi’s exaggerated moves just to get a rise out of him.

Chaewon appeared by her side, her hair slightly disheveled but her grin wide. “See? Told you this party would be good for you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but smiled. “Yeah, yeah. You’re always right, aren’t you?”

“Don’t you forget it,” Chaewon quipped, raising her cup in a mock toast.

As the song changed again, Vernon emerged from the kitchen with a red solo cup in hand, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on Y/N. He didn’t join them at first but leaned casually against the wall, a small smile tugging at his lips as he watched her laugh and dance.

“Are you going to stand there looking mysterious, or are you going to stop being a little bitch and join us?” Y/N called out to him, her breathless voice cutting through the music.

Vernon chuckled but shook his head. “Na, I love being a little bitch.”

“Oh, come on.” Yuqi chimed in, grabbing his wrist and attempting to pull him into the middle of their circle. “You can’t just stand there looking cool. It’s fucking illegal.”

Vernon resisted for a moment before reluctantly stepping forward. “People do assume I’m a bad boy, officer.” he said dryly.

The group cheered as Vernon finally joined in, his movements understated but in perfect sync with the beat. He wasn’t trying to impress anyone, which somehow made him even more magnetic. Y/N caught herself watching him a little too closely.

At some point, Mingyu decided it was time for shots and disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a tray of tiny glasses. “One for everyone.” he declared.

Y/N hesitated, but Chaewon nudged her. “Just one. Come on.”

With an eye roll, Y/N accepted the glass, clinking it against Chaewon’s before downing the liquid. It burned on the way down, but the warmth that spread through her chest was worth it.

The night blurred after that, a mix of laughter, terrible karaoke when Yuqi found a microphone, and group photos that would undoubtedly resurface in their group chat the next day. At one point, Y/N found herself sitting on the floor, her back against the couch, as Chaewon rested her head on her shoulder.

“You look lighter,” Chaewon said quietly, her voice cutting through the noise.

“Maybe I am,” Y/N admitted, glancing around the room. “I think I needed this.”

Chaewon smiled, her eyes warm with understanding. “You’re welcome.”

As the night stretched into the early hours, the group gradually began to disperse, some collapsing into makeshift beds while others lingered to talk. Y/N found herself sitting by Vernon again, this time in the living room, the noise of the party replaced by a comfortable silence.

“Told you I’d see you later,” Vernon said softly, nudging her shoulder with his.

Y/N smiled, resting her head against the couch. “I’m glad you came out tonight.”

“Me too,” he replied, his voice steady but tinged with something she couldn’t quite place.

“How has everything been? Med School finally getting the baddies down?” 

Vernon just laughed and nodded his head, before he could get another word out Seungcheol entered the room and stopped in his tracks redirecting his attention from his phone to Y/n and Vernon sitting together, Hoshi sleeping on their feet like a small dog. 

“Hey guys.” Seungcheol called out quietly, creeping over, trying to not disturb Hoshi as he walked passed and sat on the couch to Vernons side. 

“Hey.” The pair just mumbled at the same time, now noticing the awkward shift in the energy. 

Vernon stood up and turned his head to y/n, ignoring the other boy's presence. “I’m going to carry this one to his room, you good?” 

“Yeah, yeah. Just make sure to come back.” Y/n giggled knowing Vernon wouldn’t leave her hanging for too long. 

“Don’t miss me too much.” As Vernon hoisted a half-asleep Hoshi into his arms, he shot Y/N a wink before making his way out of the room, leaving her and Seungcheol alone. The air seemed to grow heavier the moment the door clicked shut, the silence now sharp and charged.

Y/N shifted uncomfortably on the couch, suddenly hyper-aware of Seungcheol sitting just a foot away. He leaned back against the cushions, his hands clasped together as he stared at the coffee table.

"So..." Seungcheol started, his voice tentative, breaking the uneasy silence. "You and Vernon seem close."

Y/N glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. "We’ve been friends for a really long time, yeah. Why?"

He shrugged, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "No reason, I guess."

Y/N wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she let the comment hang in the air.

Seungcheol hesitated, then leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Look, I know this is awkward. I wasn’t trying to interrupt anything."

"You didn’t," Y/N said quickly, though her tone was clipped

“So you guys aren’t da—” 

“No. Just two old friends.” Y/n gave him a smile just out of politeness trying to not lead on too much that she had an extreme desire to not be around him. 

“How did you guys meet?” 

Y/N knew the answer didn’t need much thought, but the weight of the conversation—and what it might lead to—hung heavily in her chest. She forced a smile, her fingers idly picking at the hem of her sleeve. "It was forever ago. Our moms were childhood friends. Vernon and I practically grew up together."

"Ah," Seungcheol said with a slow nod. "That explains it. You guys have that effortless thing. Like you’ve known each other forever."

There was something about the way he said it—soft, almost wistful—that made Y/N narrow her eyes. She didn’t like where this was going. "Yeah, I guess we do, but you knew that didn’t you? Why are you pretending to not know me? To manipulate me to make my life hell again? What?" she said, her tone neutral.

Seungcheol leaned back against the couch, studying her. "I don’t remember you mentioning him much back in high school."

Y/N let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. "Maybe because every time I tried, I’d get interrupted by someone making my life hell?"

The jab landed hard, judging by the way Seungcheol flinched. His lips parted as if to respond, but no words came out.

"Sorry, but you know it's true." Y/N said quickly, though her tone was anything but apologetic. 

"No, you’re right," Seungcheol admitted, his voice quieter now. "I deserve that."

Y/N looked at him, her expression unreadable. Part of her wanted to push further, to let him feel even a fraction of the frustration and hurt she’d bottled up for years. But another part of her—the part that was sick of carrying that weight—wanted to let it go.

"Why do you care so much about Vernon, anyway?" she asked suddenly, her voice sharper than she intended.

Seungcheol seemed taken aback by the question. He hesitated for a moment before answering. "I don’t. Not like that. I guess I just wanted to know more about the people you let in."

Y/N scoffed, crossing her arms. "Why does it matter to you who I let in?"

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he didn’t respond. Then he let out a breath, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Because I used to be one of those people," he said quietly.

Y/N froze, his words hitting her like a punch to the gut. She wanted to deny it, to tell him he’d never really been "in." But the truth was more complicated than that, and she hated it.

"You were one of those people," she said finally, her voice steady but cold. "And then you weren’t. That’s on you."

“Look,” he began, his tone uncharacteristically unsure. “I wanted to say I’m sorry. For everything.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the couch. “Everything?”

“You know what I mean,” he said, his voice quieter now. “High school. What my friends did to you. What I did to you. It was—”

“Cruel,” Y/N interrupted, their tone sharper than she intended. “You humiliated me, Seungcheol. You and your friends took something personal, something I trusted you with, and ruined my fucking life for a long time.”

Seungcheol winced, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I know. And I’ve been carrying that guilt with me for years.”

Y/N laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “You’ve been carrying guilt? Try carrying the humiliation of walking into school and having everyone know something you didn’t want them to. Of being laughed at, whispered about, avoided. You think your guilt compares to that?”

“I’m not saying it does,” Seungcheol said quickly, his voice desperate. “I just… I need you to know that I regret it. I regret all of it. And if I could take it back, I would.”

Y/N stared at him, her chest tightening with the weight of old memories. Memories of tear-streaked nights and the sting of betrayal.

“What do you want from me, Seungcheol?” she asked finally, her voice low. “Do you want me to forgive you? To say it’s all water under the bridge?” 

He looked up at them then, his expression raw. “I just want you to know I’m sorry. That I’ve changed. That I never meant to hurt you the way I did.”

Y/N felt her defenses waiver, but the anger bubbling beneath the surface was hard to ignore. "You can regret it all you want," she said finally, her voice steady. "But that doesn’t change what happened. It doesn’t change who you were back then. People say they change, but they often don’t. You don’t just get to say you’re sorry and expect everything to be okay.”

“I’m not expecting that,” Seungcheol said softly. “I just… I needed you to hear it. Even if it doesn’t mean anything to you.”

There was a long silence, the air between them thick with unspoken words. Finally, Y/N sighed, running a hand through her hair.

 Seungcheol's gaze dropped to the floor. "I know I messed up. I know I hurt you. And I’ve spent years regretting it."

"Regret doesn’t fix anything," Y/N shot back.

"I’m not trying to fix it," he said, looking up at her now, his eyes filled with something she couldn’t quite place. Desperation? Guilt? "I just don't want you to think I didn’t care. Because I did. I do."

The room felt impossibly still, the weight of his words pressing down on Y/N’s chest. She didn’t know what to say, didn’t know if there was anything to say.

"You had a funny way of showing it," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I was an idiot," Seungcheol admitted, his voice cracking slightly. "I cared too much about what other people thought. I let them get in my head, and I let you down. I’ll never stop regretting that."

Y/N stared at him, her emotions warring inside her. She wanted to believe him, to let his apology wash away the years of hurt. But she couldn’t ignore the voice in her head reminding her of all the times he hadn’t stood up for her, hadn’t been there when she needed him most.

 "I wish I could go back and do things differently."

Y/N looked away, her throat tight. "Well, you can’t. And honestly, I’m not sure it would make a difference even if you could."

The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. Y/N stood abruptly, needing to put some distance between them.

"I’m going to check on my friends," she said, avoiding Seungcheol’s gaze.

He stood too, his movements hesitant. "Y/N..."

She turned to look at him, her expression unreadable. "What?"

"I’m sorry," he said again, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N didn’t respond. She just turned and walked out of the room, leaving Seungcheol alone. 

The hallway was quieter now, most of the partygoers either gone or passed out in various corners of the house. She made her way towards Hoshi’s room where Vernon had carried him to earlier, her steps quick and purposeful, as though walking faster might help her shake off the weight of the conversation with Seungcheol.

When she reached the door, it was slightly open, and she could hear Vernon’s low voice murmuring something. She pushed it open gently and found him sitting on the edge of the bed, tucking Hoshi under a blanket. Hoshi was completely out cold, sprawled across the mattress like a starfish.

"Hey," Vernon said softly, glancing up at her as she stepped inside. His voice was calm, but his eyes scanned her face, picking up on the lingering tension she hadn’t quite hidden. "You okay?"

Y/N nodded automatically but then hesitated. She let out a shaky breath, leaning against the doorframe. "Seungcheol," she said simply, her tone carrying all the weight of what had just happened.

Vernon frowned slightly, standing up and walking toward her. "What did he say?"

She crossed her arms, her gaze dropping to the floor. "He tried to apologize. Again. Said he regretted everything. But I don’t know… It’s just—he doesn’t get to do that, you know? He doesn’t get to say sorry and expect it to fix everything."

Vernon nodded, his expression serious as he leaned against the wall beside her. "You’re right. He doesn’t."

Y/N looked up at him, searching his face for something—validation, reassurance, anything to help her make sense of the storm in her head. "But a part of me… I don’t know, Vern. A part of me feels like maybe I should just let it go. For me, not for him."

He tilted his head, considering her words. "Letting it go doesn’t mean forgiving him or forgetting what happened. It just means you’re not carrying it around anymore."

"Yeah, but how do I do that?" she asked, her voice cracking slightly. "How do I let it go when it’s just… there? Like this permanent scar."

Vernon reached out, his hand brushing lightly against her arm. "You don’t have to do it all at once," he said gently. "It’s not about pretending it didn’t hurt or that it wasn’t real. It’s about giving yourself permission to move forward, at your own pace."

His words were like a balm, soothing the raw edges of her emotions. She let out a shaky laugh, wiping at her eyes. "When did you get so wise?"

He grinned, the warmth in his smile instantly making her feel lighter. "Med school, obviously. They teach you all kinds of emotional shit there."

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help smiling. "Right. Emotional bandages 101."

"Exactly," he said, his tone playful but his eyes still soft and steady on hers.

For a moment, they just stood there, the quiet hum of Hoshi's snoring wrapping around them like a cocoon. Y/N felt the tension in her chest begin to ease, replaced by a comforting sense of safety.

"Come on," Vernon said suddenly, straightening up and taking her hand. "Let’s go."

She blinked, caught off guard. "What? Where?"

"Anywhere," he said with a shrug. "The backyard, the porch, I don’t care. You need a breather, and honestly, so do I. Plus, I think Hoshi might start snoring louder any second now, and I’m not ready for that."

Y/N laughed, the sound breaking through the heaviness she’d been carrying all night. "Alright. He’s lucky he’s cute."

They slipped out of the room quietly, making their way to the back porch. The cool night air hit her skin like a refreshing wave, and she breathed deeply, letting it fill her lungs. Vernon let go of her hand but stayed close, leaning against the railing as they looked out at the quiet yard.

"You always know how to make things feel less complicated," Y/N said after a moment, her voice soft.

"That’s because they’re not as complicated as you think," Vernon replied, his tone light but sincere.

She glanced at him, a small smile tugging at her lips. "You make it sound so easy."

"It’s not," he admitted. "But you don’t have to figure it all out tonight. Just be here. With me. Right now."

Y/N nodded, the tension in her shoulders melting away as she leaned against him as he enveloped her in his arms. The stars above them shimmered faintly, and for the first time that night, she felt like she could breathe again.

As the silence stretched between them, comfortable and unspoken, she realized just how grateful she was for her friends—for their steady presence, the unwavering support, and the way they always seemed to know exactly what she needed, even when she didn’t.

note: hi. omg. I really did drop the ball on posting this for a hot second, but we will be back to our regularly scheduled programming from now on <3

taglist: @minhui896@sun-daddy-yoriichi@luchiet@miles-sketchbook@kissesfrmwonwoo@readerlozies@vcutparis@mxnhoeuwu@writingbarnes@headlockimnida@odxrilove@jeonghaniehaee@bath1lda @wonwootakemyheart @dokyomis@hanniesdegree @blvkkeddcc@gyuguys @rakshithanotrao @multiplumes

[runraerun]

Heard a random 90s rock song & it legit got me thinking about Steve & Billy meeting again in their twenties... Like what if s3 never happened? After the fight at the Byers, Billy kept his head down & avoided Steve? I see him as being consumed by a sense of guilt/shame & yet still not being able to apologise until, that is, the day of their graduation when he's suddenly overcome with a need to just get it off his chest. He's been crushing on this guy since he got to Hawkins & he blew whatever chance he had of even just a friendship with him, but it doesn't matter now cos he's getting out of this shithole as quickly as possible, but he can't have this guilt gnawing at him any longer...So maybe he deliberately makes sure he bumps into steve at some point and mutters out a: "Harrington. We need to talk." And sucking on a cigarette like his life depends on it, hands shaking, barely making eye contact, Billy gives the world's shittiest apology. And it feels like his heart's gonna beat out of his chest & Steve's just standing there, staring at him, an unreadable expression on his face, before saying something like: "yeah, man. I'm sorry for that night too." (In my mind either Max let drop something about Billy's homelife or Steve has deduced something's not right). Anyway. Billy finally feels like he's able to breathe again for the first time in months UNTIL steve unknowingly utters the world's most devastating sentence: "I think we could've been friends if, y'know, shit hadn't gone down the way it did...oh well." And steve gives a sort of little grin and a laugh as if what he said wasn't a major deal. "Heard you're headed back to California?" Steve asks, and Billy's barely able to nod, still struck dumb by Steve's previous offhand comment. And maybe someone calls Steve's name and suddenly that's it. The moment is broken & Steve's leaving with a "Guess I'll see you around, Hargrove... or not" and a goofy little salute. And Billy thought he'd feel better. But in fact he feels worse. Because holy shit. Steve just said they could have been friends. And that's gonna haunt him for years....

Cue a few years later and they run into each other in Chicago (listen, the idea of Billy returning to California only to realise it no longer feels like home and maybe it never did consumes me), but yeah. They bump into each other accidentally and holy shit. Steve Harrington. He looks almost exactly the same. Other than the fact he's grown out the mullet and holy shit, are those highlights in his hair??? And billy's stunned by what looks like a genuine grin of delight that crosses Steve's face once he recognises who he's walked into. And maybe they chat for a little while; Billy doesn't even know what he's saying he's so in shock at meeting his highschool crush again. But just like the last time someone calls steve's name and of course steve has a girlfriend, of course he does (joke's on billy, cos it's just robin) and suddenly the moment's broken again and steve's walking away with a casual "it was good to see you again, billy" and billy is gripped with the thought that he can't let steve slip through his fingers again. how many people get a second chance like this? he can feel his old highschool crush flickering back to life where it's buried deep in his chest and maybe steve will never like billy like that but holy shit. billy still remembers the day steve said that maybe they could have been friends if things had been different and things are different now so why not take a chance??? and billy has never felt so brave or so fucking scared in his life as he does when he steps forward and calls after steve: "Hey Harrington! Wanna meet up and catch up properly some time?" and Steve's attention is back on him and goddamn. Billy didn't even realise how much he missed those eyes until now. ANyway!! This got away from me!! But 90s Harringrove pls and thank. Also the song i heard was lightning crashes by live. like the lyrics aren't even that appropriate but there's such a nostalgic feel to it.

oh my god. OH MY GOD.

Anon, this whole message has got me in a chokehold. Like, it’s such a direct hit. 🎯🎯🎯Billy choking on an apology because he’s so painfully unfamiliar with the very concept, the absolute devastation of hearing the potential of being friends with Steve was there, but he blew it, the PINING… urgh. How Steve can unknowingly fatally wound Billy just like that.

AND THEN THE HIGHLIGHTS ARE YOU JOKING?!

I hope that things get away from you many many more times, because this was incredible.

Okay okay. Now, if I may, I will now attempt to match your freak.

ahem

—

By some serendipitous fuckin’ miracle, Steve agrees to exchange digits with him. They couldn’t find a napkin or any other god forsaken scrap of paper to write on, so they just scribbled their numbers down onto each other's arm. Billy was so fucking on edge that when he was peering down at the pale expanse of Steve’s mole-speckled forearm he damn near forgot his own phone number. Jesus, he’s a wreck…

At least whenever it comes to Harrington, anyway. Dude has like, Billy’s own personal strain of kryptonite woven in through his DNA or some shit. It would explain why his hands always get clammy and his knees feel like they’re made of fucking jello every time Steve flashed those pearly whites his way.

Christ, Hargrove, get it together…

Billy had spent the rest of the week running a finger along the wobbly looking numbers, fading more and more every day. Before they fade completely through, he finally finds his balls and dials Steve’s number.

A girl picks up, which… well, Billy knows Steve has a girlfriend. He didn’t know they’re living together though… but whatever, it don’t change shit.

“Steve around?” He asks, clenching the receiver in his fist so tightly that he can hear the plastic creak.

“Who’s asking?” The girl says, sounding pleasant despite her words. Sandy-haired, freckles. Cute, Billy remembers. Harrington always did go for the cute ones.

“Billy,” he answers, “Billy Hargrove. He’ll know who I am.”

“Oh, Billy,” The girl’s voice draws out his name like it’s an answer to a question that she’d been stuck on. “It’s about time you called.”

Which. That…

What the hell does that mean?

While Billy’s puzzling it out, she hears the girl holler for Steve, telling him Billy is on the line. His name is said with a weird amount of familiarity.

Billy switches ears and shakes out the stiffness in his hand. Focuses on breathing evenly instead of the steady flow of questions suddenly piling up in his head.

“Billy?” Steve’s voice, clear as a bell, asks from the other line.

Billy clears his throat, “hey, man.”

“Hey. I was just about to call you.” Steve says, doing that thing where he so casually drops bombs onto Billy’s world, leveling his cities with a passing word.

“Beat you to it.” Billy grins, and hears the little huff of a laugh on the other line.

“Always so competitive,” Steve teases, and Billy can just hear the smile. It makes his chest ache. It’s the sweet kind of ache, though. “Haven’t you ever heard it’s not winning that matters, it’s taking part?”

Billy shakes his head even though Steve can’t see him and sneers, “sounds like some shit losers say to each other.”

That gets a genuine laugh from Steve, all breathy and sharp, and Billy feels himself laughing along from the sheer thrill of getting Steve going.

“Jesus, I forgot how much of an asshole you are.” Steve sighs, but there’s no heat behind it. Just shit talk. It’s fine. What guys do.

“Yeah yeah. Can’t change my spots, or whatever.” Billy mumbles as he scuffs his boot along the floor. Fucking antsy. Jonesing for a cigarette. Just get on with it you piece of shit. He takes a breath and then takes the plunge. “So listen, we should hang out this weekend. I know a few good bars where we could catch up. Maybe get into some trouble.”

Steve makes a scoffing sound, “what kind of trouble are we talking here, Hargrove?”

His heart jackrabbits in his chest. He loves this part. Billy brings the receiver just a little closer to his lips. “The fun kind, Harrington.” He murmurs, voice pitched low.

There’s a brief, unbearably tense couple of seconds where Steve doesn’t speak. He just lets Billy dangle like a hooked fish. Static from the line. He doesn’t breathe. Then.

“Friday at 8?” Steve tosses the offer out, real casual-like. And with it, Billy feels the muscles around his neck and shoulders relax, like he got shot with a tranquilizer dart. Steve continues, “You wanna meet at the same coffee shop from before? I live in the apartment building just across the street from it.”

Fancy, Billy thinks. Of fuckin’ course. All the buildings on that block are the high end kind; with door men and balconies and working elevators. Billy only ever finds himself in that leg of the city when a pipe bursts or a sink gets clogged and Billy gets called in to fix it. Of course Steve’s living in the lap of luxury here in Chicago. Mommy and Daddy’s only child. Not that it’s his fault, Billy supposed. Some people are just born luckier than others.

“Sure, rich boy,” Billy grins, “bring your appetite though, I’m buying nachos.”

Steve heartily agrees. Because obviously. Who the hell could say no to that? Rich or poor, nachos are nachos.

It ain’t a date. It ain’t. It’s just two guys hanging out, y’know, catching up. For old times sake. Getting into some trouble, like Billy said. It ain’t date.

So what if he calls and asks Heather to pre-approve his outfit when everything he owns suddenly looks stupid on him? And who cares that he dabs double the amount of cologne onto his chest and triple down his pants—Billy likes to smell good, it ain’t a big deal. He wears a silver chain around his neck, the one that matches his earring, and undoes a few more buttons than usual to show it off. It’s cold this time of year but he figures they’ll be inside for most of the night anyway. Drinking, shooting pool, tossing darts. Shit like that.

Billy chain smokes as he waits outside of the coffee shop, sucking back one cigarette after the other, trying not to think about how he’s about to see Steve fucking Harrington again; the one who got away. Or, one one Billy never even fucking had a chance with in the first place, more like. He keeps wondering if he’s making a mistake. If he should just go home, forget he ever ran into that long legged, poofy haired, Bambi-eyed—

But then Steve’s there, handing Billy some froo-froo drink from inside (somehow they’d missed each other???) before he starts giving Billy a hard time for still not having a proper winter coat. Steve’s got highlights in his hair and eyeliner on his lower lashline and a spot of foam from his drink on the tip of his nose and Jesus fuck.

Billy’s in trouble.

[temblando]

Astro observations pt1

Saturn in the 5th house:

Saturn in the 5th house people do not like children.

It sounds horrible, but they actually do😭

But I’m not saying that they’re psychopaths: Saturn in the 5th house people are like old people who doesn’t like loud noises, and guess who makes loud noises? Children!

10th house Sun:

10th house Sun people crave attention, they practically live for it. They love it when they get appreciated for a project or something related to their careers: it makes up a huge part of their identity

So please pat your 10th house Sun friend on the back for a project they worked their asses off: they’ll appreciate it a lot

Pluto conjunct Ascendant:

They look like they’ve seen shit.

Someone I know who has this aspect always gets asked if their family is doing okay because of this aspect😭

Also they look like they can keep secrets very well. So they have a lot of secrets, because people tell them their secrets very often.

Men with hard aspects to their mars(squares, oppositions) are red flags to me. And if they have a moon aspect that’s also badly aspected? Run, girl, run😭 Chances are that he might cheat on you or hit you🚩

Lilith 9th house:

They question god a lot. It doesn’t mean that they don’t believe in god, actually Lilith 9th housers are fascinated with their religion. They seem to have a good grasp of religion from an early age because of that.

But often than not, they could create a version in their heads of god that is quite different from the concepts that we learn in church. They love saying thought-provoking questions about god and religion.

Your Venus sign and house placement+ your Juno(3)sign+house placement can tell you a lot about your type.

Ex) I have Venus in Capricorn in 12th house and Juno in Sagittarius in 10th house: Kendall Roy( from succession)

He is my favorite character. I had a crush on him since I was little. He gives off an endearing vibe, Venus in 12th house people likes that in a guy

Contemporary politicians all seem to have prominent Jupiter/Neptune influence in their charts: Jupiter/Neptune placements in your charts can give you luck(winning elections) but also delusions and unclear thinking

Are we all doing okay?😭

Ex. Emmanuel Macron(president of France since 2017) is a Sagittarius Sun. He has Sun conjunct mercury opposite Jupiter . He also has Neptune in the 10th house,.

Boris Johnson has Jupiter opposite Neptune

Joe Biden has Neptune in 10th house. He also has Jupiter trining his sun and mercury and Venus . He also has Neptune sextiling his sun and Venus and ascendant

Yoon suk yeol(current president of SK) is a sag stellium(sun, moon, mercury) and has Jupiter trining his Neptune, but opposing his mars.

Lilith in 5th house+a difficult mars placements(square, opposition) can make you have weird kinks in bed🤭

Saturn in the 3rd house in a solar return chart can signify a lonely year for you:

the tarot card I pulled up the most that year(2023) was 5 of cups

I felt so sad that year because I felt so stupid, so I had trouble expressing myself clearly.

If you have this placement in your sr chart, I advise you that not all is lost so keep your hopes up and keep going.

It’s not that bad if you can think about it clearly,ok?

Ascendant conjunct Mars in sr chart(especially if mars is in the 12th house)

could be bad for you 😭contrary to the popular belief that it makes you more assertive

It can make you susceptible to illness or infections. So if you have this placement in your sr chart, try to be as healthy as possible.

Leo moons are so endearing to me: They are kinda dorky and cute even if they don’t know it. They’re really close with their moms as well.

Aries moons are so pure. They always think for themselves and their thoughts are so interesting to me. They never hold back and they are so bold in their thinking. They are so fun to talk to.

Uranus in the 1st house people are used to being an outcast: something about them is so different and they don’t seem to fit in at all with a group.

Pisces signs are notorious for being delulu but have you ever met a mars in Pisces?Their actions revolve around their delusions(big dreams) and if they don’t get to make their aspirations come true, they’ll get so sad sometimes.

Like or reblog if you want a part two

[meracyn]

hiii tysm for doing my req!!! mochi anon btw <33 i was trying to send an ask a few days ago but it wouldnt send thru so i hope it does this time 😭 can you write shuichi crush hcs? all fluffy fluff fluff (⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠) thank youuuuuuuuu

shuichi crush hc’s ♡

HI LOVELYYYY THANK YOUUU for requesting again!!! and yes yes OFC I CANN these are so cuteeee agghfjgkg it takes me back to the time i was down bad for shuichi chat. guys like him make me go feral asf lmao

GUYS HES A MF FIRETRUCK WITH HOW RED HIS FACE GETS ESPECIALLY SINCE HES PALE ASF IM CRYING

ok now back to being professional, my bad chat

at first, shuichi would probably not realize how he feels—or maybe he does, but tries to deny it. can he actually call it..love? he needs to be sure first, he’s afraid of anything bad happening, or he’s confusing this feeling with another emotion

thinks a lot about it. remembers days such as the day you two met and becoming friends, when all of a sudden his mind wanders off to how it would feel like to hold you in his arms, whisper sweet affirmations in your ear as you stir awake, to kissing you—

wait what? kissing!? boy does his entire face turn red as he’s shocked that his own mind thought of such thing. shuichi breathes a sigh of relief though, knowing that you aren’t near him at the moment, or else it could’ve gotten worse..

tends to stare at you more, paying attention to your small habits and body language, during his (unknowingly) lovesick phase shuichi becomes eager to learn more about you– thinking of ways to court you as you deserve. should he look for help online or ask his friends? somehow, he chose the latter.

“just ask to hook up and once you’re bangin’, say it with pride!” — miu advised while laughing

“i don’t know. why did you ask me?” — with a deadpanned expression, maki said

after asking more around (that’s a lie, he got too embarrassed to ask others and went straight to his bro, his last hope) kaito was the only one who had a good idea. what was it?

“you don’t need to do anything big to impress them, shuichi. talk to y/n and ask them out on a date, if you can’t say it out loud, write it on a note and put it in their locker, if they agree, make sure they have a good time and bam! confess”

aka the ultimate yapper

it takes him a while to gather the courage to ask you out, but shuichi has no rush—he’s content with just having this little (massive. that’s what she said) crush on you. he’s the type to giggle n shit if you ever compliment him or just pay attention to him in general

writes down notes about you– with things he wishes to say one day

[xetlynn]

JJK Imagines- Yuji Itadori

Impression

Summary: reader is chubby due to her cursed technique, she doesn’t believe she’s a good fighter because of the way she looks. Always being hard on herself. She’s not used to praise or compliments.

Not requested.

[jjk] [master list]

“I can’t believe Gojo is having me train you. Megumi might be better.” I frown, not understanding how I’m certified enough to train the boy who needs to be stronger due to being Sukuna’s vessel. I’m only a grade 2, on the verge of being semi grade 1. Megumi is practically building himself to be grade 1.

 “Don’t be hard on yourself. You’re strong.” Megumi dryly says. “Yeah, [Name]-chan! He praised you when he talked to me. So that has to mean you’re amazing!” Itadori expresses our senseis supposed approval of me. 

“Brother!” A voice calls out loudly, I wince at the sound, I glance over to Megumi who does the same thing. “Todo, I told you that wasn’t me! I don’t know what took over me!” Itadori cries out, running away from the larger man who has a grin on his face. “Oh but don’t you remember when we went to the movies together, brother! Don’t say that!” Todo responds, catching up with the boy and lifting him up in the air. “That never happened!!!” 

I cover my mouth attempting to not laugh at my classmate who’s getting manhandled by an annoying brute of a guy. Unfortunately he’s still in Tokyo after the whole sister school exchange event. Where Kyoto’s principal gave his students orders to kill Itadori. 

“I’m going to go find Maki, she needs help with something.” Megumi whispers over to me, probably so Todo doesn’t see him and give him the same treatment that is being given to Itadori. “Todo, Itadori needs to do some training.” I cross my arms, the man turns his head over to me. Giving me a weird expression before ignoring me. My expression falls.

Todo’s always treated me this way, I roll my eyes. “Hey, I know you heard me, you big lug!” I Smack his arm that was holding onto Itadori. “He can do his training with me! Can’t you, brother?” Todo places the pink haired teen down but a hand is still on his shoulder so he can’t go anywhere. I see a sweat go down his forehead, he quietly pleads with me to help him. 

The big guy doesn’t enjoy my company very much after he lost against me in a fight. And for some reason he kept bringing up how I am not his type. I’m guessing it’s because I’m not skinny nor super tall for his liking. “Ah, he isn’t disagreeing!” He roars into triumphant laughter, bringing Itadori into his side. “Did you know that we have the same type? Tall girls with big butts!” Todo smiles proudly but Itadori puts his head down in shame for some reason. 

I feel my chest pang a little bit. I didn’t know Itadori had the same type actually… I sort of have been catching feelings for the boy. I don’t even know why. I can’t get myself to have a full conversation with him without panicking but he’s always been persistent in talking with me from the beginning. When we thought he was dead that’s when I kind of realized my feelings for him. Obviously it was a small thing since we hadn’t known each other long. When he showed up with Gojo sensei my heart raced. Indicating I still had that stupid crush on him. 

It didn’t matter though, I’m not his type. I don’t know if I would be anyone’s type. My cursed technique makes me… bigger than others. Having to eat more than a regular person. 

“Todo, Gojo wants [Name] to train me today. I can’t go against Sensei’s orders!” Itadori scratches the back of his head awkwardly. Todo frowns, letting him go. “I guess I can’t argue with that! We will have to hang out later!” Itadori gets smacked in the back pushing him toward me and I catch him.

“Let’s go, Itadori.” I sigh, dragging him to the training ground. “You know you can call me Yuji, right?” He responds sadly, picking up his pace so I can let him go. My hand feels cold now. “Mm, Itadori rolls off the tongue better.” I tease him, his face drops as I snicker. “Kidding, kidding!” “Okay Yuji, we should start with some stretching!” I say as we enter the training ground. I place my hands on my hips. 

“I’ll follow your lead [Name]-chan!” He gives me a closed eyed smile, my face grows hot. “R-right.” I stammer, beginning the training with stretches. I feel foolish. This idiotic crush is going to form a false narrative of my personality to him! 

I disregard looking at him when we do the stretches, only naming out what I am doing with my face avoiding his area. Normally I keep my head held high, this stuff doesn’t bother me! Why is it affecting me so harshly? He’s been back a total of three days and I act as if I’ve had a crush on him for months. He hasn’t been around for a month beforehand!

After I finish my stretches I glance up to see him still doing his last one. I stand straight, observing his body structure. The muscles appeared vividly through his workout shirt. “Am I taking too long?” He abruptly inquires, startling me out my staring.

 “Hm, why would you ask that?” I tilt my head to the side. I wasn’t rushing him, at least I hope it didn’t seem like I was. 

“You were staring, and seemed upset.” He shoots up from his spot, stretching out his arms. “Oh sorry, I was thinking.” I lie… partially. “Thinking about what?” 

“How I’m going to beat you!” I kick his legs causing him to fall to the ground with a loud grunt. “Awe, you caught me off guard!” Yuji whines, getting right back up and we get into defensive positions. He goes to hit me but I move away swiftly using my cursed energy to make me move faster. 

“That was the point!” I giggle, I attempt to punch him but he grabs my fist, swiping my feet like I did to him. Only I didn’t fall down. Surprisingly catching myself in time. “I wasn’t expecting you to fight this well!” He tells me earnestly. 

“Don’t underestimate anyone, Yuji Itadori!” I push on his pressure points in his back. Shocking him enough to get him back on the ground. “What was that?” He yells as I smirk, shrugging my shoulders. Dropping down to attack him, unfortunately he rolls away in time. Tackling me down this time. 

“What’s your technique?” He demands to know, I raise a brow. I thought he’s seen me use it before. I think back to the past few times I’ve fought. 

I guess he’s never really been around to see it… I didn’t go with him, Nobara or Megumi when they went to that building where he died from Sukuna. And in the event I was separated from him, putting up a fight against Momo and Mai with Nobara. “You’ll have to find out.” I huff out, absorbing his minimal cursed energy that he was currently using. He doesn’t use it much but it’s something for me to take. 

I shove him off of me, showing off the muscularity I now suddenly had. I already have impressive strength but absorbing others' energy only feeds it. 

Pretty much superhuman, which I’ve heard Yuji has that normally without any cursed energy. I sort of got to witness it when he sparred with Gojo for fun earlier. “You’re stronger than before.” Yuji states, I smile with a nod. 

“That’s your cursed technique? Strength?” He seems confused, he isn’t far off but it’s not the answer. I hear someone walking into the grounds. Yuji and I don’t look away from one another. It was Panda. I focus on his energy, slowly absorbing it without him realizing. 

“Your cursed energy… It grew!?” He shouts, I then attack him once again. This time it throws him backwards about 15 feet from where I stood.  

“Hey, I told you to stop doing that to me!” Panda reprimands angrily but doesn’t do anything about it. “Sorry.” I mutter, I don’t think it was loud enough for him to hear though. “You took his cursed energy?” Yuji mainly talks to himself as he gets back up. I could tell he was tired though. It was an effect on what I did. 

“Mine too?” He glances down at his hands. Yuji fully lifts himself up, running to get me. I stick my tongue out before I run out of the way. He hit the pillar I was in front of him. Knocking him straight down. 

I give back Panda and Yuji’s energy. “You okay, Itadori?” I stood above him, slightly bent over so my face was in his. His eyes open. “It’s Yuji, [Name]-chan!” He groans, taking my reached out hand to help him stand up. “Sorry!” I bite back a laugh. 

“That was so cool!” He cheers suddenly. I awkwardly thanked him, holding myself. “Does it tire you at all? How strong can you get? Actually, how many people’s cursed energy can you take before it’s too much?” He quizzes me, my face scrunches at all the questions not knowing when I can answer any of them as he continues to praise my cursed technique. My face was burning as well since I didn’t expect him to be this impressed by this. 

“It makes me hungry.” I spurt out, rubbing my stomach not soon after it growls. “Wait, really?” He asks. 

“Mhm! If I absorb too much it weakens me, making me super hungry.” I explain to him, wiping sweat off of my forehead, I turn to talk to Panda but it seems he had already left the grounds. Usually after I train he joins me to get food, knowing that I’m going to be ultra hungry after using my technique. He helps with my errands as well. My shoulders drop in disappointment. Who’s going to help me now? 

 “Let’s go get food then.” Yuji’s face gets serious. 

“Oh, it’s okay. I still have some things to do before I go get food.” I say, I didn’t want to be alone with Yuji unless we were fighting. Eating food with him… seemed too romantic for me. “I can help!” Yuji offers, I flinch, not knowing how to get out of this now. “You don’t have to, I’ll be okay.” I wave him off. Starting to walk off the grounds. 

“I’ll pay! But if you truly don’t want to go with me. I understand. We’re not true friends just yet.” He walks beside me, I mentally curse at myself for making him think that we aren’t true friends! 

“I- I want to eat with you! I just don’t want you to feel obligated to hang out with me.” I stop in my tracks to bow my head down, now feeling weirdly shameful. 

“[Name]-chan I hope I didn’t make you feel like I don’t want to hang out with you.” He bows down fully to apologize to me. “I actually asked Gojo-sensei for you to train me because I wanted to hang out with you!” He blurts out, surprising me. I take a step back. “Really?” I ask. Gojo just went up to me telling me I had to train him and I didn’t have a choice.

He peaks up while still being bowed down. “Yeah… you just seem really cool. I hope that isn’t weird.” He slowly lifts his upper body back up to look at me. 

“It’s not weird at all. Thank you, Yuji.” I wrap him in a hug. I’ve never had someone find me cool. It was new. People’s first glance at me is usually the last. I don’t impress anyone, the way I look pushes people away instead of reeling them in. Megumi and Panda were the only ones who spoke to me first. Megumi doesn’t judge quickly though. It’s something I always appreciated. 

“Of course.” Yuji hugs me back before I let go. “Let’s go get food!” I grin, taking his hand. 

+Extra+

“Why didn’t you tell me how cool, [Name]-chan is!?” Yuji shakes Megumi dramatically. “Her technique is so cool, I want to hang out with her all the time!!!” He tells the dark haired boy who just gives him a straight faced response. “Seems like you have a crush on her.” Megumi bluntly says. Yuji lets go of the boy. 

“A crush on [Name]...” He feels his heart begin to beat fast. “You call her [Name]-chan. You talk about her too much. A crush.” Megumi sighs. 

“Hm… I think I do…” Yuji pictures [Name]’s face in his mind, making him smile softly. 

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

redemption : casual l Marcus Moreno

❤️‍ broken hearts seek redemption ❤️‍

Summary:  you misread his signals

Warnings:  one guy who has to find his courage; one mother who can't stand to look at him anymore; one girl who wanted to protect herself; fluff, Marcus has to get his act together

A/N: sorry for any mistakes. i'm really sorry. I was looking for some free time between other activities

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

first part is here >>casual<<

a few ways to break a heart [masterlist]

broken hearts seek redemption [masterlist]

"Enough! This is pathetic!"

Marcus looked up from his plate of cold scrambled eggs and his eyes moved at his mother, Anita. The woman was staring at him with her hands on her hips, she looked almost the same as when he was a kid and did something wrong.

He cleared his throat. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

"You! There's something wrong with you!" she replied in a raised voice. "I've been talking to you for fifteen minutes and you're unconscious."

"Sorry, Mom. I'm tired after yesterday's banquet." he mumbled, taking a sip of his now cold coffee.

"Oh, yes!" Anita shook her head. "I think you're more tired from staring at that poor girl all night."

Marcus' eyes widened and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"I don't know what you're talking about." he stammered out confused.

"You looked at that girl like she was an abandoned puppy! Please, mijo! I've known you long enough to know you've fallen head over heels for her!"

He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, this banquet was torture for Marcus. For the past few weeks, every time he met you, in the hallway or in the cafeteria, it gave him heart palpitations. The worst thing was that he only talked to you about work, nothing else was out of the question.

And at this banquet you looked so beautiful that he couldn't help himself. He wanted to approach, say something, make some gestures... His mother must have noticed it.

"It's because of her that you've been like this lately, huh?" Anita asked, pushing out a chair and sitting down next to him "I can see that something's bothering you."

He nodded.

"Then why don't you go out with her? Ask her. Staring like that won't do you any good."

Marcus sighed "See, we've been on a date before..." his mother's face lit up in excitement "It was really nice. But... She told me a while ago that she wanted us to go back to just being work colleagues."

"W-What?"

"She said I wasn't ready to move on, and she couldn't just be my friend and..."

Anita's mouth fell open, and her son jumped as she slammed her hand on the table.

"You dork!" This time she slapped him on the shoulder "She's got a crush on you! Women don't say things like that without a reason!"

Now Marcus looked at her in surprise. "But she ignored my messages... She told me that, and now she doesn't even talk to me like she used to. Maybe she was right..."

Anita leaned back in her chair and rolled her eyes, mumbling something to herself. Then she made a quick sign of the cross with her hand and looked at her son, trying to stay calm.

"I saw how you looked at her, and she glanced your way too..." Marcus raised his head immediately "If you weren't ready you wouldn't be sitting here in such a pathetic state now. Please, mijo. Do something about it!" she grabbed his forearm and squeezed tightly "If this girl makes you happy, give it a chance. You've been devoting yourself to Missy and your work for so long, take care of yourself and your own happiness too."

"But what if she doesn't want me? What if you're wrong?" he asked, although deep down he was begging for what his mother was saying to be true.

"She'll tell you that. But you have to talk to her. You're fighting all these enemies, and you're afraid to talk to the girl you like? Please..."

The light in your window has been on for a while now. Marcus could see it clearly from where he was standing. His mother's words comforted him. He bought a bouquet of peonies, exchanged his ironed shirt for something more comfortable, and stood in front of your house for almost an hour.

Marcus Moreno could fight a hundred villains, but when he was about to stand in front of you he felt completely defenseless. 

A few deep breaths, he barely lifted his foot from the pavement and was about to take the first step when the phone in his pocket rang. He instinctively glanced at the screen, it was you.

"Hello?" he tried to sound natural, as if his heart hadn't sped up at all.

"Marcus?" he heard a slight worry in your voice, "Is that you standing in front of my house?"

He raised his gaze to your window and saw the outline of a familiar figure. Heat crept up to his neck.

He cleared his throat. "Yeah, it's me."

"Uhm. And why are you doing this?"

Marcus sighed deeply and was still staring at your window, although he couldn't see your face, he asked. "Can I come upstairs?"

The silence on the other side seemed unimaginably long, but when he heard a quiet "Yes." he felt as if he regained his breath.

It was a strange feeling, seeing Marcus in your doorway. He was clutching a bouquet of peonies in his hands, and his brown eyes were staring at you almost pleadingly. 

You didn't even have time to change, still in your comfortable clothes, without make-up, you greeted him at the door.

"Hi." he said quietly.

"Hi, Marcus." you replied, leaning against the door frame. "What brings you here?"

He wanted to say "you." He wanted to say everything that was swirling in his head and chest, but he didn't know where to start. Finally, after a long fight with himself, he stammered quietly.

"Can we talk?"

He deserved it. You didn't want to hurt him, you didn't want to stick a pin in his heart when he looked at you like that, because you felt that he didn't show up without a reason.

Some time had passed since that memorable conversation, and if you felt anger at first, it had already passed. You were tired and... you really missed Marcus. 

Even without taking into account what had happened between you, he was a good friend. You remembered how many times he helped you with the vending machine, how he stood up for you when Miracle Guy teased you, or when he helped you change the tire in your car when it was raining. 

On the other hand, you loved it when he talked about Missy, you helped him with paperwork and you remembered the way he liked his coffee.

Maybe dating didn't work out, but your friendship with Marcus was important to you. But were you able to bury your feelings deep inside?

You opened the door wider and gestured for him to come in.

"This is for you." He said, handing you the bouquet and smiling uncertainly.

"Thank you." You immediately smelled the pleasant scent of flowers and smiled involuntarily. "Would you like something to drink?"

"No, I don't want to bother you." He scratched the back of his neck. "I just wanted..."

You turned around and went into the kitchen to pull out a vase. "I'm still listening to you, Marcus." You said, glancing at him over your shoulder as you poured the water.

"I feel bad about what's going on between us." he began, and a strange shiver ran down your spine. "I mean... I miss you, a lot. I keep thinking about what you told me. If I did something wrong, if I hurt you with something, tell me, please. I want to fix it. I can fix it!"

"Marcus..." you sighed, placing the bouquet on the counter and turning to him. “I miss you too." his eyes sparkled with hope. "I'm not sure though..." you rubbed your temple with your hand.

If this conversation was going to be honest and true, you had to tell him everything. You couldn't move on feeling like you had unresolved issues behind you.

"I heard you talking to Miracle Guy." you said quietly, your gaze fixed on the flowers, because it was easier for you that way. "It was Friday, before all of this... I brought food, I knew you'd be at work longer. You were both talking, and I accidentally overheard it."

Marcus already knew what you were getting at. Miracle Guy implied that you and Marcus were dating, and he just wanted to cut the conversation short. He felt bad about it all, like he had disowned you.

"I don't know why I said that." Marcus replied. "We were so new to all this and I was afraid that maybe I was promising myself too much. Miracle Guy would have spread the word all over the place. I didn't want you to feel uncomfortable. Besides, if you didn't want to see me anymore, no one would have found out about us, right?"

You looked at him in surprise.

"Do you think I could be... ashamed of you? Marcus!" you choked out. "I thought I misinterpreted your signals and..."

"I'm sorry!" Marcus interrupted you abruptly and approached you, taking your hands in his. "I haven't done this in a long time. You're the first woman I've dated in years. I panicked. Because I really like you and... not only that. You're smart and funny, I feel really important around you. You really see me. Not the leader of the Heroics, not a single father, but me. I was afraid that if someone found out about us, this bubble would burst."

Something was tightening in your throat, and your eyes were burning strangely. You didn't expect this.

“Maybe I really misjudged this whole thing,” you replied quietly.

"I'm not surprised you drew such conclusions. I would have thought the same." he sighed. "Maybe if I had more courage..."

"Maybe if I had asked you right away..." you added. "I felt hurt, Marcus. I pushed you away because it seemed the safest. I didn't want to hurt myself any further..."

He nodded. His warm hands let go of yours and he took a few steps back.

"If I could, I would take it all back." he mumbled. "I really liked spending time with you."

"I liked it too."

A small smile crept onto Marcus' lips, as if a fond memory filled his head. But then he remembered his mother and everything they had talked about that morning.

"Give me one more chance." he blurted out and you lifted your head, surprised by his tone. "One chance. Now I'll do it right, like you deserve. I'm ready to move on, but I want to do it with you, please."

"Do you want to..."

“Go on a date with me,” he interrupted you again. “We’ll go to dinner, to a movie, to an amusement park, whatever. But I want to do it with you. Because I care, I really care about you.”

You bit your lip. A strange excitement emanated from Marcus and he slowly infected you with it. Maybe he was right? Maybe it was worth trying again? You weren't risking anything.

You finally nodded. "Okay." Marcus beamed and you smiled back. "I think it's worth a try."

"Maybe..."

The unexpected doorbell made you both jump. You quickly left the kitchen and opened the door for the young pizza delivery guy. After a few seconds, you were alone again.

"I was going to spend tonight with pizza and a movie." You said, smiling shyly at Marcus. "If you didn't have any other plans, maybe you'd like to join?"

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah, really serious." You put the box on the coffee table. "I have wine too, if you want. But if you have to go back..."

He shook his head. "No, Mom stayed with Missy so I could come over." you chuckled. "If you want me to stay..."

"Of course I do." 

Marcus felt like his heart would explode with joy. It wasn't what he expected, but he was grateful that he took the step and showed up at your place. The chance to spend the evening with you, pizza and a movie, was the best thing that had happened to him in a long time.

"But you're still going on a date with me." he said as you settled down next to him with a glass of wine in your hand. "That doesn't count."

"Of course. But what if someone sees us again?"

"Then we'll give them something to gossip about."

You smiled. This guy was worth another chance.

☆☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[luvmanifesting]

“CRAZY” things i’ve manifested from the void and my imagination.

All my family members stop aging at 22-30

Being able to endure the coldest temperatures

Being able to hear anyone from FAR FAR FAR distances

Revised my age like 3 times, i was born 2007 but permanently made myself 16

Immune to dying in any way except a peaceful death if desired

my cat living until i basically pass over (whenever i desire)

keeping everything i’ve manifested forever and if i were reincarnate i would be born with everything i had in this reality

my celebrity crush (i changed his age so it wouldn’t be weird)

Animals being able to talk to me

Everything being free for me (because i was tired of currency so basically everything for me and my family is free)

Reversed my friend’s tumor

Immune to getting any type of disease/sickness

Never a boring or dull day

Time controlling basically

Being able to stay underwater for as long as i want without coming up for air

Being able to read people like a book (no manipulation around here!!)

My english getting better (i rarely use it)

If someone has animosity towards me or is wishing harm on me (digitally,physically, internally) it will appear in my dreams and will send intense karma their way

Having a hairless body forever (except my eyebrows and eyelashes and my hair lol)

Everyday feels like 2014-2017

Being able to drive how i want and permanently avoiding all car accidents

And a lot more. sorry for the spam guys but i just wanted to put what i manifested out there since i had plenty of questions about it, if i can manifest this crazy stuff then so can you!

Until next time! (^-^)/

[slimejugular]

Did you see episode 14? Did you see Deep Bite's theme video on youtube? Deep Bite saying something towards Red Blitz like "This guy secretly had feelings for me? He's cute!" Is making me want to explode. I've been eagerly awaiting seeing your thoughts towards ep14 lol

yes to all ^_^ I'm genuinely piqued someone is eager to see my thoughts on MCB, so you get a LARGE chunk for your appreciation.

Sort of disorganized and not proof-read, apologies.

For Deep Bite's theme video:

Did he really say Blitz was cute? I mean. I want him to have.

On YT, the auto-translate was along the lines of Deep Bite thinking him soft-hearted. Nonetheless, still wanting-to-explode-inducing for me too…!

I swear, his commentary mentions Red Blitz multiple times. Stop talking about him, sheesh. Joking.

For episode 14:

• Red Blitz noogie-ing Deep Blitz all scathingly is silly BUT,

if you consider that IRL sharks have super sensitive noses, no wonder Deep Bite 180'd in attitude and transformed in SECONDS. Red Blitz must have been overwhelming the hell out of the sensors concentrated there.

Or not! Discrepancies between alt-mode and robot mode, possibly there are no sensors at all, just a fun assumption on my part. But he does get awfully heated quick, it is suspicious.

• Red Blitz switches between calling Deep Bite 물고기 'mulgogi' (living fish) and 생선 'saengseon' (fish you eat) which is funny /sob

• When Red Blitz is downed during that one part, with Deep Bite raising an optic, the dialogue from him there is amusing…"is it already near your bedtime, you baby" something-something. I love the teasing dynamic going on here. Pretty Please pettily insult each other more in the future, guys

• Musclehyde and Blue Cop being a combination of curious and confused—by the trope of fighting for friendship—is a nice detail. I find it interesting it's not a rite of passage on Machina, considering how bots are rather eager to fight instead of discussing matters.

• I was confused as to why Deep Bite was able to move around Red Blitz in his alt-mode, or. It's that his systems interpret the steam from their clashed attack as "being in the ocean". He does not float around past that particular scene and only hops (in my defense).

• Rock Crush's giggle is so gosh-darned cute 🥺🥺🥺and the tape-on brows Peruru pulls off later ugh. The mole analogy being stylistically animated was lovely on the team's end

• Directly quoted from my IMs

"-sad that the first thing deep bite does when he finds out people aren't afraid of him is that he goes in for an affectionate touch"

"…touch-starved"

"Instantly clasps a hand on the shoulder of a stranger"

(self-explanatory)

Also, Deep Bite taking on the guise of an outlaw, and for Glober to have befriended him somewhere at that point in that time, has. many implications. you can ponder.

Maybe, Glober is the only person that Deep Bite has had affection from…a tragedy that I hope fan writers for the show will touch on, too delicate to be handled by me ahaha :(

Another thing. I was amused by the fact that he laughs for so long—no one's even laughing with him after a while—but you know what? It might have been because he's finally found a WHOLE group of people willing to accept him for him and he's exhilarated with the alien idea and thus expresses it by being so awkwardly upbeat for first meetings. I am miserable.

• Why is Blue Cop recording HAHA??>? This play is too important to Jun to not be captured. His first installment in theatre directing.

• Musclehyde's horns with the capability to pop off make me think of Chiyo Mihama pigtail shitposts. He should swap them out to celebrate Christmas, pretending to be one of Santa's 12 reindeer. It's also stylish? If you think about it?

• Deep Bite is specifically very handsome @ when the force of him pulling the crane, causes Red Blitz and Blue Cop to flip upside up?!!!?#R(U! Sigh.

• Deep Bite's tail language…When Red Blitz walks away, it droops a bit together as he groans (in likely disappointment), but THE TAIL WALIGNGGG WHEN RED BLITZ ACCEPTS HIM????! UUUUUUUUUUUUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH ok he's so cute he's also making little like. Chuffing noises here omg. Omg.

And Red Blitz' tsundere attitude. Turning his back and everything and the hands on the hips, caught red-handed when someone bugs him about being dishonest. Astonishing.

Cough, also if only Dexter's scoop was animated to show off emotion like this.

• I really do value the voice work Red Blitz' VA puts out. His voice has this roundness, it's snarky, it's nasally, it's naive, and sometimes even a bit intimidating. I'm biased. I'm not sure of the exact Hangul, though the way he was saying hurry(?) is something I enjoy; it fits his characterization well!

• Deep Bite being the second guy to peacefully submit to Jun 🥺the 잘 부탁해 'jal bu-tak-hae', "please take good care of me" AUGHHHH!!!!!

Overall. Loved it. 10/10 all characters got a pleasant spotlight.

Thanks for your interest ^_^

[aro-absol]

I hate how when I come out to other people as aromantic I'm so often met with a version of "don't you think you'll find the one?" and them telling me that I should be open minded and not rule out dating completely.

Like, why do they feel like they need to tell me that? Those words just revive all my doubts that I shouldn't call myself aro and that I'm not "valid" as aromantic. Do they not understand that it took a lot of courage to tell them this personal thing about myself and that them immediately questioning what I've said won't make me feel better?!

It took me over a year of soul-searching to gain the confidence to use this word to describe myself and my experiences, and their first reaction to me letting them in on this knowledge is that I have to be wrong and that it's not okay for me to call myself that.

I literally would have been fine if they just said, "okay, cool."

I hate that aromanticism is still seen as something so negative that people's first reaction to a coming out as aromantic is to console the person coming out (by invalidating them).