#and he strikes me as a kind of person who would like to know what they're saying to each other even if he kept it to himself
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GT: I should preface this request with an overture of appreciation. GT: For how much your cool and brotherly friendship means to me. GT: It has just been… GT: Absolutely *bully* having a standup gent like you in my corner. GT: Just a grade a dude whos a cut above the others in class and camaraderie. GT: Phew… *gropes for fresh kerchief*.
Wow, Jake is fucking terrified of this guy - or at the very least, he seems incredibly intimidated for a guy who's ostensibly just chatting with a friend.
Unfortunately, this is exactly what I'd expect from a Bro who's not any different from his adult self. Jake's acting exactly like Dave did, back when he was forced to share an apartment with the guy.
TT: Take it easy, bromide. TT: Just about the only way I could salvage endearment from this perilous slope of horseshit would be to discover, really fucking soon mind you, it was a preamble to some floundering invitation for me to rush to your vicinity as nakedly as possible.
In other words, you wish he was hitting on you.
I really don't think he's kidding, especially since both Roxy and Jane seem to want a piece of English, too. Jake's sitting at the epicenter of at least three crushes, which is not a pleasant place to be sitting when you're fifteen.
TT: But since we've already shot that wad's eventuality on so many dry runs of flustered ambivalence that were as hilarious as they were one sided, TT: That leaves only one hope for this message to avoid spiraling toward qualification as a critical fucking defect in the hull of the Mach 10 rocket that is my precious spare time.
And here's the guy's actual personality. It's a fairly even mixture of Rose and Dave, a combination which synergizes much better than you'd expect.
He's still prone to Dave-style rambles - but unlike Dave, his streams of consciousness are every bit as eloquent as Rose's text, which some extra swear words tossed in for flavor.
It's very good, and immediately does a lot to humanize him, especially when all we've seen so far is "roof. now." and "State your business."
TT: And that hope lies in the extent to which you were practicing artful insincerity. TT: Now's your opportunity to pretend that's what you were gunning for. I suggest you seize it. GT: I… GT: Oh. Yes! But of course. GT: The ironies! GT: Good grief how i was bandying them just now. You know me dude. GT: *Blows smoke off red hot irony pistol.* GT: *NONSUGGESTIVELY!!!!!*
lmaoooo
Alright, I can't actually tell if that was a Freudian slip or not - but I kind of hope it was. If these two became a couple, the vibes would be incomprehensible.
TT: I'm guessing you're probably jonesing for uranium about now. No? GT: Ok can you please just sendificate me some more already?? Im in kind of a hurry! [...] TT: You know. I've offered to construct the rabbit for you many times before. I would craft a much deadlier model. […] GT: Damn it man ive told you this is just something i have to do myself. […] TT: Yeah, I know this is your policy. You've done a good job and you should be proud. TT: But it's my responsibility as your friend to offer one last time. TT: Just as it's my responsibility not to just fork over a bunch of uranium just because you ask me in a moment of weakness. […] GT: Why not??? TT: It's too easy.
Throughout this whole conversation, I've been trying to get a grasp on Bro's general vibe - and I think I'm starting to understand it.
When you're talking to Kid Bro, everything is a game - and he'll make damn well sure that you follow the rules.
Jake previously committed to making the bunny alone, and Bro refuses to rescind that rule, even if Jake's no longer following it himself. He strikes me as a guy who frames every interaction he has as transactional, confrontational, or instructional. He's not capable of just shooting the shit - there has to be an angle.
Mind you, I don't think there's any genuine malice in it. I think this is just how he's wired - and I really do think he's trying to help Jake develop as a person, in his own way.
The problem is, we've been down this road before...
...and nothing good lies down this road.
#homestuck liveblog#full liveblog#act 6#s183#4184#edit: ok interestingly he DID offer to rescind the rule#but only if jake lets him fully make the bunny himself#he demands all-or-nothing basically
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" this one's for you !? " ft. isagi yoichi
ever since middle school, you had a best friend who stayed by your side up until now—and that boy was isagi yoichi, a diamond in the rough, who was so close from becoming the top striker of all time, who just needed a little push and polishing—so you gave him that first little push he needed.
"hurry up, yoichi! let me see!"
"are you serious? you know what this means, right!?" blue lock? it sounded genuine, so you cheered him on to participate in this somewhat legit project. "come on, you should go!" "alright, alright. but.." his sheepish grin slowly turned into pursed lips of doubt. "will I ever see you again?" what kind of question was that? "obviously! i'll see you on the other side." you wink at your best friend, smiling as wide as you could.
the loud booming voice from the speakers announces the next player of the blue lock eleven.
"and #11!" his name is called, and your attention was caught, interest piqued. it's him—your best friend—the boy you've been waiting to see again since early highschool. he enters the stadium, taking the view of over thousands of people in the crowd surrounding him, hoping you were in it, watching him closely—and watching him closely you were.
the game felt long, like, really long. on the edge of your seat, you were kept on your toes, fully invested in the last few minutes of the game.
this is it—the clock was ticking, one more goal from the team you were rooting for with all your heart—the blue lock eleven—and they would break the tie with U20. but who would score the winning goal? the itoshi brothers battling to the death to take the ball for themselves was all you were focused on.. one last goal..
and in the blink of an eye, your childhood best friend, isagi yoichi, the same boy you pushed forward since middle school to become the greatest striker in the world—had somehow been keeping his eyes on the ball this entire time, foreseeing the future before him and where it would land—in this case, right where he wants it to be—taking his only chance to score a goal. and with a stroke of luck..
he scores.
3-4. holy shit.
"and with a devastating direct shot, #11, isagi yoichi—has brought the blue lock eleven to victory!" you scream louder than anyone near you, and while you received a few looks of worry or second hand embarrassment, you couldn't care less. he just scored! the crowd applauses, chanting his name—similarly to his teammates, who quickly gathered around him, celebrating their victory as a team. after a while, isagi was dragged into an interview—being broadcasted on television, and the huge jumbotron in the stadium.
"here he is, everyone! the blue lock eleven's isagi yoichi, who scored that dramatic winning goal! we would love to hear your impressions, now that the game is over." isagi's eyes wander around, just realizing the pressure being put on him at the moment. he rubs his thumbs together, palms growing clammier than ever. "i—uh." you giggle a bit at him choking on his words, bringing your hand to cover up your snickering.
"i.. i'm.. happy. super happy." he feels a pang of embarrassment strike through him, but that's what you get for giving such a pathetic answer—it was cute, though. "we've observed that you have the chance to become the U20 representative today," he gulps, awaiting the interviewer to continue his sentence. "what are you looking forward to next?"
you could notice the way he straightened his back, strengthening his stance. "..win." you almost burst out laughing, but anticipate his full answer. "the blue lock eleven.. will win the world cup. all of us—no, that's not right." the world feels quiet at this very moment.
"i.. will bring japan a U20 world cup victory."
and the crowd roars.
"what a bold statement from blue lock's hero!" "now, isagi yoichi, who would you like to thank especially for the person you are today?" his eyes light up at the thought of you. you, the girl he hadn’t seen with his bare eyes since long ago.. he could envision you in his mind, smiling as wide as you could.
"i'd like to give my thanks to my parents, who have supported my dream of becoming the greatest striker in the world.." isagi's hand finds itself rubbing the back of his neck. "my teammates and opponents, who have shaped me into the player i am right now.." he looks around him to search for the girl he's missed oh so dearly in the crowd who was carefully watching him and his words. "and the love of my life. my best friend, who gave me that final push into joining blue lock—if it weren't for her.." and at that moment, you swore your eyes met each other. you stared deeply into his eyes, full of yearning for you, to see you once again. i might cry, you think, as thin lines of your tears cascade down your cheeks.
"i wouldn't be here in the first place." it feels like time had come to a stop. he finally finds who he was looking for, you, in the crowd. directly looking at you, he smiles as wide as he could.
© dvmbification ( formerly dumbification ) . do not repost or recycle my work.
#( dvmbification )#blue lock#bllk#blue lock isagi yoichi#bllk isagi yoichi#isagi yoichi#isagi yoichi x reader#isagi yoichi x fem reader#blue lock x reader#blue lock x fem reader#bllk x reader#bllk x fem reader#blue lock fluff#bllk fluff#isagi yoichi fluff#sorry guys the aventurine sugar daddy au will have to wait.. im obsessing over this man rn
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The Great Shift: Awkward Tales - Vignette 1: The Nervous Flirt
When the Great Shift hit the world, everyone was thrown into chaos. However, eventually society resettled into a new and more accepting form. At some point everyone would have to get used to their new bodies… right?
Well for a few individuals out there, after the great shift, they still were… adjusting. No matter how much time happened, some were cursed with an awkward new perspective in life.
Maxwell, was nervous. More nervous than usual! Before the great shift, he had recently come out as gay to his close friends and family! While, they were all super accepting and happy for him, that didn’t solve his issues… talking to people he liked! No matter how many times he tried, he would turn into a stuttering mess whenever a hot guy was in the vicinity. He was lucky enough that his small unassuming frame meant no one could see his failures.
When the great shift happened, he thought things might be different. New body! New me! That was the mantra he’d heard many people say as he had browsed forums and self help spaces. Turns out many people just needed a new body to reorient their social skills and come out of their shell! At first Maxwell thought he’d be one of them!
He knew that he was a lot stronger in this body. He still wore his glasses, but these arms were no joke. Plus he didn’t have any skin issues anymore and he finally had some decent facial hair to work with! It all seemed to add up to something of a turning point for his life.
That wasn’t the case.
Turns out a new body came with the same issues PLUS a few new ones too. Maxwell couldn’t form a straight sentence around hot guys, even newly hot guys who had never been hit on before! Even if Maxwell was just as handsome and good looking, his words fell apart at the slightest bit of attraction. Not only that, but his pool of attraction doubled. Apparently the guy he’d become was bisexual and loved flirting with men and women! So now not only did hot men make his speech a mess, but beautiful ladies did as well! A single hot woman could ruin his night if she asked for directions! A studly man asking if he wanted a drink would have him run out of the bar! No matter what seemed to happen, Maxwell was still an awkward dork.
Going from 5’5 to 6’2 didn’t help either. Now everyone could see this towering confident stud look like a complete fool! And his quick escapes were a thing of the past since every time he tried to run away he’d trip over his large size 15 feet. The last time he tried to flee from a failed flirt he knocked over two waiters and spilled 3 drinks over the person he was talking to. He needed some help.
His friends did their best to console him, but even they had difficulty finding a clear solution.
“Come on dude, you’ve got to stop biting your nails!” Beth, his best friend since college said after another night of failed flirting.
“I’m sorry Beth!” Maxwell whined in his new voice. Previously that expression was met with more nasally tones, but now even his wines made such flirtatious sounds when it came out of his new deep voice. “I just can’t stop thinking about that couple that asked if I wanted to join them tonight. The guy was soooo hot! He was like some kind of bodybuilder! And the girl! She could’ve been a super model. And i just froze and ran away!”
“It’s ok. I know that you want to pursue a relationship post shift. There’s no shame in striking out. Lots of people are having a hard time finding love.” Beth chimed in trying to comfort her friend.
“Easy for you to say. You and your fiance got Chris Evans and Chris Hemsworth’s bodies! And you’re still together!” Maxwell complained, burying his head in his pillow, still shirtless and showing off his impressive arms.
“I… I admit. We did get lucky. I know all our friends love Marvel, and my fiance and I are mega nerds… and the role play in the bedroom is fun and-”
“Beth!”
“Sorry! I just mean, that nothing is hopeless. You’ll find what you’re looking for soon. And hey, if it helps you can try flirting with me and Erin tonight.” Beth offered.
Maxwell blushed… and then slowly nodded. Maybe flirting with two of his biggest celebrity crushes would solve his issue after all.
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Hi I love finding new blogs to follow I saw your asks are open so I'd like to request for Mikey(Tokyo revengers) x reader where reader has become obsessed with infinity nikki(same) and Mikey complaints about not getting enough attention
Oooh! I know the game but haven't played it yet, but it looks like a great game.
Well well, let's start!
There’s one thing to make clear from the start: Mikey loves affection.
He’d be the type of boyfriend who’s like a baby, always wanting cuddles and attention.
So, with that in mind, I can totally see him getting dramatic when he notices you’re paying more attention to your game than to him.
Part of him does it just to annoy you, but another part is genuinely jealous that you’re spending all your time with a game instead of cuddling him.
Whatever the reason, if he sees you playing for a long time instead of focusing on him, he’ll start messing with you by touching the screen (as long as he knows he won’t ruin whatever you’re doing in the game).
He might even start tickling you while complaining that you’re not paying attention to him.
A true little crybaby.
When you first showed him the game, he thought it was cute. I can totally see him sometimes playing it if you let him use your phone while you’re busy with something else.
I feel like he’d enjoy it but wouldn’t download it himself. Mikey strikes me as the kind of person who gets really into something for a week and then doesn’t touch it again for months.
You might need to keep an eye on him in the game to make sure he doesn’t mess things up accidentally, but if you teach him, he’ll know what to do.
That said, once you’re done with whatever you’re doing, your phone will be nowhere to be found.
Without a doubt, he’ll have hidden it so you’ll give him attention (and so he can see your cute angry face).
You’d end up in a full-on tickle war to figure out where he’s hidden your phone.
In the end, he had it under the pillow he was lying on and would place it in your lap while you’re panting from exhaustion.
The idiot would just look at you with a big smile, waiting for you to hit him with a pillow, because he really enjoys teasing you to get your attention.
And in the end, after all that chaos, he gets what he wanted and is the happiest person in the world, even if he leaves you wanting to kill him.
But how could you ever kill Mikey when he’s so adorable? He’s like an orange cat.
Hay una cosa que dejar clara para empezar, y es que Mikey adora los mimos.
Sería el típico novio que es como un bebé, queriendo cariño a todas horas.
Así que dejando eso claro, lo veo haciendo drama cuando ve que le haces más caso al juego que a él.
Una parte de él lo hace para molestarte y otra porque de verdad esta celoso de que estés todo el rato con un juego y no abrazándolo.
Sea cual sea la razón, si te ve jugando mucho tiempo en vez de haciéndole caso empezará a molestarte tocando la pantalla (si ve que no va a estropear lo que sea que estés haciendo en el juego)
Incluso empezaría a hacerte cosquillas mientras se queja de que no le haces caso.
Un verdadero bebé quejica.
Cuando le enseñaste el juego por primera vez le pareció lindo, me lo veo a veces jugando si le dejas el móvil mientras haces cualquier otra cosa.
Siento que le gustaría pero no se lo instalaría, pienso que Mikey sería de las típicas personas que va por rachas, una semana juega muchísimo y luego lo deja de jugar por meses.
Quizá tengas que vigilar un poco a ver que hace en el juego porque podría liarla un poco sin querer, pero si le enseñas sabrá que hacer.
Eso sí, cuando terminas con lo que estuvieras haciendo no verás tu móvil por ningún lado.
Sí o sí te lo habrá escondido para que le hagas caso (y para ver tu linda cara enfadada).
Tendríais una completa guerra de cosquillas por descubrir donde ha escondido el móvil.
Al final lo tenía debajo de la almohada donde estaba echado y lo colocaría en tu regazo mientras hiperventilas del cansancio.
El tonto solo te miraría sonriendo como si nada esperando que le pegues con una almohada, de verdad se divierte mucho molestándote para que le hagas caso.
Y al final, después de tanta guerra lo consigue y es el más feliz del mundo, aunque te deja con ganas de matarlo.
Pero ¿cómo vas a matar a Mikey con lo adorable que es? Si es como un gato naranja.
- Header and Writing: Mars 💚
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Shadow: Honestly, you've always known what to say and helped me a lot. Sonic: It's nothing. Anyone would have done the same. Shadow: You know that's not true. Everyone here looks at me with fear. Rightfully so. You're one of the few who has never done that and tried to include me. Thank you for the effort. Sonic: It wasn't any effort. Shadow: Hm. [gives him a peck on the cheek]: Good night. [leaves] Sonic: Yeah, night… um… [runs to his house] --- [Shadow arrives home, where Rouge is lying on the couch watching TV] Shadow: Rouge. Rouge: I'm watching TV. Shadow: I kissed Sonic. Rouge [turns off the TV and sits up]: Come on, sit with me and tell me everything! --- [Sonic has arrived home and is telling his brothers and Amy] Sonic: It was just a peck. Knuckles: Did you like it? Sonic: I think so. Tails: Damn it. Amy: Shut up! --- Rouge: Talk! What else happened??? Shadow: Nothing else happened. He just looked at me and I left. I think I shouldn't have done it. But I like him. He's always kind, efficient in the field, remembers personal details about me… Rouge: I'm so happy for you that that sounds like the most romantic thing I've ever heard. Shadow: But I don't want to pressure him. I just wish I could talk to him about it. Rouge: Well, don't worry about that, I've seen Blue strike up a conversation with the ATM. --- Sonic: I don't know what to say to him. Tails: 'No' is a nice word. Amy: Tails, stop. Knuckles: Sonic, what do you want to do? Sonic: Well… not mess it up. Like I almost did with Amy. Amy: Sonic, that was different. We weren't compatible in that sense. Sonic: And how do I know if I am with Shadow? I don't want him to think there's something wrong with him, or worse, that he realises there's something wrong with me. Knuckles: There's nothing wrong with you. Tails: Just your taste. Amy: He's very lucky to have such a supportive brother. --- Rouge [typing on Shadow's phone]: You're so lucky to have such a gossip sister. This is my element. Shadow: What are you typing? Don't send it without letting me see it fir-- Rouge: Sent. [hands the phone back to him] Shadow [frowns] Rouge: You're welcome! --- Sonic: He sent me a message. Amy: What does it say, what does it say? Sonic: "I'd like to talk to you. I don't want to pressure you. Tell me when you're ready." Tails: Well, okay, he's earned some points. Amy: Oh, how cute, let me see-- Sonic: Wait, I closed it… damn, I gave him a missed call! --- Rouge: Oh, look, he gave you a missed call! How cute. That's a good sign. Shadow: You think so? Rouge: Of course. Shadow: So what should I do? Keep talking to him or wait for him to sort things out? --- Sonic: What should I do now? Talk to him or wait it out? I can't sort it out. Amy: Think about what you'd like. Sonic: I’d like to be more than friends, but I don’t like the idea of a conventional relationship. Knuckles: If it helps, I don't think Shadow does either. Amy: I think that's your sign. Tails: Why don’t you make a list of pros and cons? --- Shadow: I like lists. Thank you, Rouge. Rouge: Anytime, sweetheart. [Phone beeps] Rouge: Oh, another missed call! Put that in the pros. --- Sonic: Stupid phone! Someone take this thing away from me!!!! Here, just hide it under a cushion where it can't make me mess it up more!
#incorrect quotes#sth#sonic the hedgehog#shadow the hedgehog#sonadow#rouge the bat#amy rose#knuckles the echidna#tails the fox#miles tails prower
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Toxic Suguru on the mind..
18+ MDNI - DEAD DOVE, baby trapping, fem reader, fwb, implied/referenced cheating, misogynistic content?
________
• Suguru who comforts you after your boyfriend dumps you. You’re a sobbing mess. You thought you two would be together forever, thought the ring was coming, that you’d be his wife.
• Suguru who strikes up a drunken deal with you after your boyfriend dumped you. You’ve both been lonely, pent up, needy, and you’re friends, have been for years. What’s not to love?
• Suguru who is the best partner you’ve ever had. Fucks you however you ask, be it gentle and slow, murmuring how good you feel, how well you take it, how beautiful you are, or hard and fast, telling you you’re made for it, he loves your body, never wants to let it go, ect
• Suguru who’s the best person to ever get aftercare from. He’s all loving kisses and running you baths and making sure you drink water.
• Suguru who can tell you’re wanting more, can see you glancing at couples in grocery stores, restaurants and rewatching rom coms, staring longingly at flowers, liking posts about baby fever
• Suguru who loves the cookies you bake, the leftovers you bring him to his work, the little notes you draw in his bathroom mirror.
• Suguru who knows you’d be the perfect little housewife/girlfriend/partner, just not for him.
Suguru can see it now. You, clad in a pretty little plaid dress, a baby on your hip, stirring dinner at the stove. Maybe your husband works white collar- he’s an accountant, works in finance, maybe even a lawyer, he makes clean money, good money. He’s vanilla. Brings you flowers. They’re always the wrong ones though, because that’s just how men are.
You’d be so proud of your pretty little diamond ring, showing it off on social media, fingers intertwined with your husband’s. The problem is, you’d get lonely. The kids would go to school, the silence of the house ringing in your ears. You’d get a pet cat but he’s too relaxed to care. You need attention. A special kind.
And unfortunately, your sweet, loving, pays-all-the-bills husband can’t make you cum. Not like Suguru could. He can fuck you, sure, but he can’t bring you to pure bliss. It’s fine though, he’s got money. Besides it’s too late, you’re married now.
Suguru can imagine some suburban chump coming home, calling you honey, baby, sweetheart, all the things Suguru used to. He can imagine you swelling with another man’s child.
No. He won’t let that happen. He won’t let you get that little taste of happiness.
It’s a terrible thing of him to do. To poke holes in his condoms. He just can’t imagine losing you, he can’t imagine letting you go. He knows you’ll be so scared, so disappointed. To have a child is one thing, but to have a child out of wedlock? Well, that’s frowned upon. But Suguru, oh, he’d hold you, rubbing soothing circles on your hips while you sob into his chest.
“My parents are going to kill me,” you manage between sobs, hands clutching the fabric of his shirt. He’s oily from a hard day at work in the shop, he’s older than you too, even if just by a few years.
“Shh, baby, I know,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, not letting you see the cruel of amusement glint in his eye. “I know, sweetheart.”
He’d take care of everything; the bills, the kids, you. the only catch? You might not get that ring. You might just get two kids and a codependent relationship. Or who knows, maybe he’d show you off, introducing you as his wife even if you’re just engaged, slapping a ring on your finger before your first prenatal appointment.
#geto suguru#jjk suguru#toxic!suguru#dead dove do not eat#suguru x reader#baby trapping#geto suguru x reader#smut#jjk x reader#this is my first tumblr thing
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Hi GT absolutely love lionheart, I just wanted to know how in your headcanon would others perceive Draco in the Lionheart universe, l think one of the rear glimpses we got to see how other individuals view him was from Ron in Chapter 71: Auld Lang Syne which was kind of heart breaking especially the part Ron says/implies that he doesn't want to be like him
So it got me thinking do others view Draco as this cold, quiet, unattached, nonchalant person, and if so then I imagine him to be the quiet and reserved member of the golden quartet.
If that's the case then the dynamic between him and Hermione would be absolutely adorable, her the firey passionate loud mouth, and him the quiet, nonchalant, dangerously competent posh boy.
I think so! I'll sometimes go back and review dialogue for group scenes, and it's striking how little Draco says. He's not at all forthcoming in a group; most of his remarks are little asides or one-on-one conversations with someone while the group keeps talking. He's not shy, by any means, but he's just not the most sociable person in the world. And like, Gryffindor knows this, and they've grown used to (even affectionate for!) him, but it's like: yeah, that's Draco. He don't say much. Except to Hermione when they're doing a plot. Maybe don't get too close to that, though.
That impression also comes out through contrast with the people he hangs out with: Hermione is Hermione, who runs the Tower like a navy battalion, and Harry/Ron are both pretty sociable, friendly dudes. You see the four of them sitting together, and odds are it's not Draco who's talking.
I will say that Ron's being harsh on Draco in Chapter 71 — understandably, since he's worried his dad's going to die, but perhaps not with the most clear-sighted idea of who Draco is or seems to be. They're discussing Draco's tendency to suppress inconvenient emotions when they arise, which is (a) what lets him function despite his bespoke childhood trauma gauntlet, but also (b) a very stark contrast with Ron, who feels things deeply and obviously, and regards losing that quality as a kind of death. I think there's also a bit of miscommunication happening between them about what Draco means when he says "like this" — Draco's saying, yeah, I've learned to repress and compartmentalize and function despite loss, and Ron is hearing, I figured out how to stop caring. Which is not the same thing. Or maybe it is! But they have very different perspectives on the subject.
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his pronouns are they/them 😤
transparent version below!
#snappy's art tag#my art#kirby#nonsurat (kirby)#sir nonsurat#kirby gsa#kirby right back at ya#to go into this further I also feel like Nonsu is the kind of person to realize this and then. not do anything about it.#nonsu realizes he’s nb and doesn’t bother to come out or change his pronouns or anything. he’s just chilling#not to say that the people around him wouldn’t be accepting but Nonsu strikes me as a character who isn’t action oriented#I feel like he would be happy knowing it for himself and just forgets to really let anyone else know#the kind of revelation he drops after years and everyone is like WHAT DO YOU MWAN YOUVE KNOWN FOR YEARS???
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Sorry but we were speaking about history in a part of one of my classes and when the Vatican came on. I had to draw the sad dog man.
Machete is now immortalized in my class notes. It’s in spanish by the way, which is kind of funnily appropriate considering latin is very close to spanish.
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#augh that's adorable!#“Vaticano” -> -> cue sad dog man#he doesn't seem very happy to be there#I've said this before and I don't really know why#but I keep finding the idea of people drawing little Machetes in post-it notes pieces of scrap paper and class notes#endlessly charming#it's so cute#it sparks joy#thank you!#Spanish and Italian are fairly closely related they're both descended from Latin and I think that's terribly nifty#I'd like to believe Machete speaks or understands Spanish at least passably#mostly due to continued exposure and for having a knack for languages#Spain was an influential superpower in the 16th century and also intensely Catholic so he ends up working with Spaniards on a regular basis#and he strikes me as a kind of person who would like to know what they're saying to each other even if he kept it to himself#not to mention that Spain has an extended history of ruling parts of Italy#the southern half of the country in particular#including the places where he grew up#gift art#nerium-aquifolium#own characters#Machete
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Got to dream about being Erica last night, which was cool. Specifically in like, a no-Haven AU but when I finally got to break out all of the poisons, dose literally all the food, and start smashing people's heads in with crochet mallets, my GOD that shit was satisfying.
#I got to get this weird double bind where my family members knew I had something deeply fucking wrong with me the neighbors did not#and my original stepdad had died so my stepmom had remarried to a guy who had only met me as an adult#so he was very relaxed and calm about me for the most part but every once in awhile my normal personality would come out and scare the#living piss out of him. like there was a squirrel in the backyard which actually turned out to be a dog coati type thing because I was#dreaming but also because Erica has a higher prey drive than I do and in real life mine only gets activated for like squirrels and shit and#I know she used to hunt and kill dogs. so naturally when the stepdad guy was kind of pussyfooting around this thing I was like fuck it.#I'll scare it off if you wont. advanced on it announcing quite comprehensively that I was not only going to eat it. I wanted to eat it. it#couldn't stop me. and I was very hungry. this scared the living piss out of the dog (who not only ran away but pretty much begged for#another dog to come save it) but also alarmed my stepdad a bit. after that I think that that was when he stopped letting me feed his fish?#he had some fuck ass nephew he introduced to me because he thought that we could maybe start dating or some shit like that and I was not#really super enthused but if he knew what happened to my fiance he absolutely would not have done that LMFAO#also unrelatedly there was a snake! she was a strike risk like nobody's business and did not like her tank at all but could be relied upon#to coil up on my shoulders and not disappear so easily so I got to wear her around a couple times. very fun part of the dream. aside from#also dreamed up an episode of disenchantment. the Netflix show.
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absolutely unreasonable over this coworker that i rlly like rn. thank god i don't like men or i would have fucking Lost it by now! as it is i don't even know what has me so dkfjghsdf about him i'm just sitting there with my head in my hands going "he's so normal about trans people..."
#he's a like. fr nerd guy which i don't know if i have a value judgment for but! it gets me points cause i can pull out nerd shit too#thought he was Significantly older than me but he is only four years older than me and not the estimated six. so it's not that bad#once i'm twenty in like three months it really will not be that weird for me to be friends with people in their twenties.#YOU KNOW WHAT IT IS. HE'S NOT NERDY HE'S GEEKY. DIFFERENT VIBE BUT DEFINITELY MORE LIKE ME#like. ordered a working spiderman mask online but also likes my alt radio station. y'know#and he wants to be my friend too!!! we talk nd have similar senses of humor#and he says hi + bye to me every time he sees me AND says my name every time which i think is a like. positive sign#when people take the time to say 'hi [name]!' i think that's a like. 'i'm invested in being friendly with you' thing#AND AGAIN!!! HEAD IN MY HANDS!!!! HE'S SO NORMAL ABOUT TRANS PEOPLE!!!!!!#went 'wow. it's the ignorance' when one of the kids asked about my dead name (kid obviously did not know what being trans entailed)#and when i went 'i mean adults ask me that too' he went 'what??? fr??? people are so uneducated :/' like a little disgusted ab it#which. dude. what a fucking world. so normal about trans people that like. not being normal about trans people is a foreign concept#not EVEN transphobia just not being educated on what's decent to ask a trans person!!! NOBODY knows that stuff!!!!#except for skye my best friend skye apparently. this dude is so fucking normal about trans people#laughs at my jokes about being trans!!! consistently!!!!! is rlly cool about it!!!!!!!#made a joke about using my dual citizenship to go check on the girls who were taking a really long time in the bathroom#and he found it as funny as i did and like. that's a kind of joke u'd usually have to share with other trans/queer people... idk...#would also make that joke with my coworker who is gay. but he's also really chill about me being trans haha#anywayyyyyy i don't know if he's queer or anything (strikes me as straight) but it's. god. world-changing#AND HE HAS A GIRLFRIEND. WHO HE TALKS ABOUT A NORMAL AMOUNT. VERY POSITIVE THING#so i don't have to worry about things being weird at all :D#and he knows for sure i'm 19 and is chill about it. which. i was the only one making that a big deal but it's a relief all the same haha#asked how old i was (talking about graduating from college in a year nd a half) and gave me a FIST BUMP when i told him.#A FIST BUMP. WHO DOES THAT.#straight people. that's who. guys who are just guys.#guys who make me go 'oh so i DO want guy friends who are my friends in a 'we're both guys' way. those other guys just suck'#which i don't really want but ALSO. he's normal about trans people! so he recognizes me as a guy no matter what i look/sound like!!#my like. supervisor's supervisor made a joke about him being childish and like. girl.#idc frankly that's skye my best friend skye you can't tell me shit about him we listened to the radio while driving the kids to the beach#valentine notes
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@luigra that's so funny actually. he should do that
imagine being joe hills today. you wake up and your fucking house is underwater. because some goat has decided you were stealing his ore. what kind of bullshit is this. unbelievable,
#tags peer reviewed#also there's absolutely no way joe is the ore snatcher. it's so not their vibe#also he's already gone on record to say very convincingly that if he were to do it he would replace it with. was it deepslate lapis lazuli?#joe is not a dishonest person from what I know of them. she might lie to you but like. she'll always be joe hills when doing it. yk?#so faking a sign to frame someone else doesn’t really strike me as something they would do#plus 'the glitcher$' make *me* think two of them. or it's another mislead#I personally think either imp and skizz or it's just cub. *maybe* xisuma cause he is being a little tricky this season#but I'm also not watching x so that's not something I could say for sure#anyway who knows! maybe I'm wrong. I kind of doubt it though djhdk#mcyt#hermitcraft#joe#doc
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The day you noticed Lucifer was using his wings to court you.
☆彡 In birds, there is a great variety of nuptial displays at the time of courtship, especially in species that have melodious songs or show very striking plumage.
Little did you know, this would include angels or the king of hell himself.
☆ English isn't my first language. Sorry in advance.
☆ The reader is g/n; no pronouns or y/n are used.
You were always fond of birds, and you dedicated much of your life to helping preserve endangered species. You studied them, spent countless hours learning about the hundreds of species, a lot of diets and their behaviors.
This didn’t seem to stop once you found yourself in Hell; in fact, once you discovered there were a bunch of sinners with bird-like features, you just seemed content to be there.
When you arrived at the Hazbin hotel, you claimed one of the spare rooms as your personal studio, and after what you have called "the toughest battle in your life," you convinced Alastor to let you have a camera "as long as you never get that frivolous technology box near me."
Husk had to ask you not so politely to stop when you first met. Before you could even take his hand, you had started to ask questions about their wings; sometimes you even wrote on an oh-so-worn notebook of yours; it became a common topic of discussion between the two of you. When you forget he has work to do and start to take multiple pictures of his wings and even try to take one of his wings when he is not looking, Angel starts to think that your bartender friend is about to lose it, and you will end with a scratch or two.
Besides that, one could say that your presence in the hotel was appreciated; you could be found watching some funny shows on TV with Angel and never saying no to Vaggie when she asked for a favor. Soon, you started to feel part of the hotel, and the rest of the staff agreed with that.
☆◦ •◦☆
Lucifer was nothing like any man you had met in life or hell; he was, to put it simply, an awkward guy, always so silly yet so elegant. He had managed to get you longing for his presence more often than you would like to admit.
You are not sure how you and Lucifer became friends, but having a shared interest in ducks seemed to help. You gave him all kinds of facts about them, and he would step by your room every so often to show you the new rubber duck he was working on. Not that you're complaining, but one of his ducks set your courtains on fire on an occasion.
Charlie says that she is proud of his "social advances,” as she used to call your interactions. Seeing him out of his office more often and having an actual conversation with someone seems to make the princess happy and less worried about her father, and if that someone turns out to be you, it is so much better!
☆◦ •◦☆
The first time you noticed this weird behavior of his was the day you two met. You couldn’t help but mention, after his bickering with Alastor over who was Charlie’s father figure, that you found his wings precious. Lucifer, being the prideful man he is, wasted no time on extending his wings only for your delight, a smirk on his face as he saw your eyes wide admiring that part of him; they were so magnificent, you could swear they were shining in the light of the room, and you'd die to see if the feathers were as soft as they seemed.
Just a simple touch, please.
Before returning his wings to their place, there was a flutter of his wings, so slow that there was no way someone could notice.
But you weren't just someone; you knew it. What a coincidence! You could recap an article about some birds courtship.
The second time you saw it, you were in your room minding your own business. He came to you with a smile, but your eyes were looking past him, his wings on full display as he greeted you. There, his wings started flutter again, now lasting more than the last time. Now there is no way it was just a coincidence. “My eyes are up here, darling,” he said, that smirk on his face turning into a pout as you were not paying him enough attention. You just shake your head, focus on the man before you, returning your full attention to him, and the pout on his lips dissapears immediately as your eyes are on him.
☆◦ •◦☆
You are getting crazy; every time you get a glimpse of him, you find his wings moving in an oh-so-familiar way that you could swear it was a courtship dance, every time bolder than before.
That is when you decided to confront him, getting just a chuckle from him. It made you think maybe it was just your imagination, and you finally lost your mind.
While sitting on the hotel balcony, Lucifer was telling you one of his ideas for this new rubber duck. He said it would be the best one he would work on so far, even though you doubted that. Then you stopped listening, your eyes fixated on his wings. Every time he looked at you, they would flutter not so subtly, distracting you from everything around you. Your head rested on your palm, almost feeling bad for not listening to his rambling.
"Luci, you're courting me." It was supposed to be a question, but by the way the king of hell stopped his rambling and, looking at you with wide eyes, you found that maybe it was not.
"And what would make you think that?" He said mocking you, he also rested his head in one of their hands.
"Your wings, the way you move them," you pointed to his wings; they stopped his movements when you mentioned it; he just chuckled, then started to laugh. Was he laughing at you? It made you want to hide yourself from him; was it your imagination? No way.
"So you finally notice," he then said. Once his laugh was gone, he adjusted himself on his seat. Now, with both of his hands holding his face and looking at you with a smirk, his wings started to flutter once more. "I thought it would take you less time, may I be honest"
"Actually, I noticed it long ago; I thought it was just my—" You felt the air leaving your lungs once he got on his feet and moved closer to you. "...Just my imagination." You were not strange to his proximity, but this time he just looked so imponent, wings on full display and fluttering around. Now it was definitely a courtship dance, and you were on the receiving end.
"Now, what do you think?" He hovered over you who still sitting, a hand resting on the back of your seat, taking one of your hands on his and kissing your knuckles. The kiss lasted longer than you thought was the average time for one, and even then he didn’t let go of your hand. "Was my dance enough to impress you, darling?" Now, looking into his eyes, you could only see adoration, awaiting your response.
You couldn't speak; you can't imagine the king of hell pulling up something like this for you.
"My dear, please talk to me," he pleaded, a sigh leaving his lips as he hid his face in the crook of your neck. You could feel his warm breath in your skin, burning like hellfire.
"It was," you said, Lucifer now turning his face to look at you. You took his face in your hands and moved him closer, he gave you an inquisitive look but with no intention to move from your touch. "I should have mentioned it earlier; it was quite impressive." You smiled, and he did the same.
Now, how long you two kissed, you also don't remember; what you remember, however, is how he held you against him as if you were just about to disappear right then, and that when you finally got to touch his wings, you were proved wrong.
His feathers were much softer than you have imagined.
This idea came to me yesterday when my dad showed me a reel of a lady bird who epically ignored the male who was dancing to her, I felt so bad and immediately thought about Lucifer.
Likes and reblogs are appreciated 💞
#hazbin hotel#lucifer x reader#lucifer morningstar x reader#hazbin hotel x reader#Why did this took me so long?#nicolines
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Toji who got really drunk after a misunderstanding you left him to ponder upon one morning when you left for work. You missed a part of your routinely goodbye to him and at first it didn't bother him. He understood that you were running late, but once he started chugging the cold drinks and he sat with the sentiment, he realized it did strike him.
He hated the entire process of getting drunk, hated that drinking was unbearable unless it was chased with sweet kisses from you, but there he was, downing bottle after bottle. He was starting to feel liquid full but even in this intoxicated state he didn't want to put down the bottles. At some point he starting feeling uncomfortable being by himself and didn't want to feel that way anymore, so he called and texted you. Multiple times. You finally picked up after the eighth call.
-Hi, baby! Sorry, I missed your calls. I just left work and i'm heading home.-
-Baby? Who are you calling baby?- He scoffs, a roll of his eyes following.
-You... Toji. It's you. Who else would I be calling baby?-
-Honestly, I...- He laughs, the sound not coming off as one of joy with the next words he speaks. -I didn't think you even loved me enough to give me stupid pet names. I feel very unloved by you and... mhm, just want you to know that.-
Now, that's just entirely untrue and it hurts to hear. You prove your love for him every day. What is this sudden false claim against you?
-Toji, love, what are you saying? I'm coming home, already. Maybe we should talk in person. This is hard to discuss over the phone.-
-Uh-huh, you do that.- He sighs, heavily, his eyes lidding with sluggishness. -Can't win a verbal argument, s-so you're gonna come over here and try to seduce me with your pretty face. I'm just gonna say no when you try to touch me. Just no.-
-I'll see you in a bit, Toji.- you say, before abruptly hanging up.
He sounded off. You knew something was up the second you saw his eight missed calls and a stack of messages just saying 'hey'.
Your keys jingled as you pulled them out of your bag to unlock the front door. The house was steady, no sign of Toji watching TV in the living room or of the shower running. You walked further in, calling his name. It was kind of eery walking through your silent house. You also knew of Toji's tendency of scaring you, so you were on guard for that as you paced around the house. You had one more room to check and it was the bedroom. You dragged your feet over to the room, knocking when you noticed the door was closed. There was no answer after two more knocks so you just opened the door.
The sound startled Toji who was lying against the headboard of the bed, almost falling asleep. The second he saw you his demeanor changed. He perked up like a dog when their owner comes home, before melting back to the stoic state he had been sitting in.
"Hey," you say, almost tentatively, as you walk towards your shared bed, sitting down on the edge. You're met with an acknowledging hum of a response. "What's wrong, baby?"
"There you go calling me baby again. Baby is for people who love each other, so stop it."
You look over the bed, spotting the evidence that led to the bite in his attitude towards you— those bottles that spill the remaining drops of their content and Toji's backwash onto the bed, making the sheets reek of alcohol.
"Well, I love you, so no, i'm not gonna stop calling you baby."
He crosses his arms over his chest, huffing like a child. "That so? It didn't seem that way this morning. I've never felt so forgotten about by you."
"I told you I was gonna be late for work, but you insisted on keeping me trapped beneath you. Bring that part to light, handsome." You can see the corners of his lips twitching. He's holding back the most wicked smirk at the short burst of memories from the morning. "Plus, I still gave you your goodbye kiss, so what are you on about?"
"You didn't say 'I love you'. That's part of goodbye with you, so you can't blame me for feeling this way." His eyes express something of hurt. Maybe it's enhanced by the drinks he had, but you can't leave him that way.
"You're loved, baby. Very much so. Me not saying it this one time doesn't diminish the actual feeling." He's been reduced to a cub over this, so as his lover, you step in to mend the feelings that were grazed.
"Can you..." he rasps, patting his thigh, signaling for you to sit. You drag yourself towards him, and plop yourself onto his lap. You can smell the alcohol on his breath as he rambles on about how you can't forget to say 'I love you' to him ever again, even if it's a blurted, rushed one that he doesn't get a chance to respond to as you rush out the door.
The look he reserves for you is entirely soft, his hands are hot against your clothed back as they feel the warm body he's missed for hours. "I still..." he pauses to sigh, tiredness imbued into the sound. "Still want you to call me baby," he starts again. "I was just bummed. Don't stop calling me baby. Don't ever do that." He's letting his hands roam all over you. Your back, your waist, your hips—everything.
"Are you gonna let me touch you or are you gonna say 'no'?" You grin, remembering his words, verbatim, just incase he tries to tell you he never said them.
"Why aren't you touching me? Why would I not want you to touch me?" He looks insulted by the question and you have half a mind to remind him of what he said to you on the phone, but the heat in his eyes dies out as quickly as it appeared. "Really need a hug, mama. Please, hug," he says, the last part muffled by your chest as he keeps his face buried into it.
You held him tight and murmured 'I love you' countless times, while he hummed in response and groaned quietly as you ran your fingers through his hair.
#toji#fushiguro toji#jjk toji#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen toji#jujutsu toji#toji fushiguro#toji fushiguro x reader#toji x reader#toji x y/n#fushiguro toji x reader#toji x you#toji fluff#toji fushiguro x you#jjk fushiguro#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen scenarios#jjk x y/n#jjk drabbles#jjk scenarios#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#jjk
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off my face - yjw
pairing: jungwon x reader genre: soulmate au, mega FLUFF word count: 6.6k summary: in a world where each person has a soulmate mark indicating where they will be touched by their soulmate for the first time, there’s jungwon—the soccer team captain you’d like to be ruined by forever—who has no soulmate mark at all. what does that make you, someone whose mark has changed color because of him? author's note: finally!! here's your most awaited blond jungwon fic that i skipped sleep for<3333 inspired by this amazing prompt my friend sent me.
One touch and you got me stoned. Higher than I've ever known. You call the shots and I follow. Sunrise, but the night still young. No words, but we speak in tongues. If you let me, I might say too much.
You sat near the front row, posture perfect, eyes narrowed as Professor Min’s lecture on ancient mythology took a surprising turn. Today’s topic wasn’t just history—it was soulmate lore, the mysterious marks everyone was born with, and the myths that surrounded them. The professor’s calm, seasoned voice filled the room, but the air buzzed with barely contained excitement. Everyone was alert, even the usual back-row whisperers, captivated by the promise of something rare: a sanctioned discussion about their most private marks.
“These soulmate marks,” Professor Min began, his gaze sweeping the room with a faint smile, “are said to be the final traces of a bond forged in a past life. Legends tell us that in each lifetime, we may be separated from our soulmates, lost to distance or circumstance. But the marks,” he gestured to his own faintly darkened palm, “are said to be the soul’s way of leaving a trail—a reminder.”
A murmur rippled through the room. Everyone had a mark, a small patch of inky darkness, as distinct as fingerprints, mapped out on their bodies. Some had them on their palms or fingertips, waiting for the day a handshake or brush of fingers would light up that mark with color. Others had them in more curious places, whispering of fated touches in the most unlikely moments.
"The legend says," Professor Min continued, "that these marks were painted by one’s soulmate in a past life, a vow made in hopes to meet again, to find each other across time."
You clenched your pen a little tighter, the faint tickle of wonder battling the urge to keep your expression blank and unfeeling. You’d always kept your interest in soulmate marks private. They seemed so full of mystery, and the idea of your soulmate waiting for you somewhere was oddly… reassuring. You glanced down, conscious of the mark behind your knee, hidden like a strange secret that even you could barely understand. What kind of first touch would even reach there? The thought was both amusing and baffling, and you stifled a wry smile.
Around you, other students leaned in to chat, loud enough that their conversations blended into a steady hum. Your classmate Arin nudged her friend, laughing as she displayed the faint mark on her palm. “I’ve been dying to know who’ll shake my hand one day,” she whispered excitedly, her eyes glimmering with hope.
But your gaze drifted just beyond Arin, landing instead on a familiar figure lounging in the middle row with his legs stretched out, looking every bit like he was born to disrupt things without lifting a finger. Jungwon. Handsome in a way that seemed almost unfair, with striking, dark eyes framed by lashes that cast subtle shadows on his cheeks, and hair the color of midnight that fell in soft, tousled waves. He had this effortless, magnetic presence that drew people toward him, like he knew he didn’t need to try.
As captain of the soccer team and one of the most well-known faces on campus, Jungwon somehow managed to look both sharp and relaxed, as if the attention his looks or reputation brought him meant nothing. You’d been crushing on him since last year, an avid fan always present at his games, cheering him on like a lovesick fool. Whenever he scored a goal, you felt your heart leap, and you couldn’t help but unleash your inner fangirl, your excitement spilling over as you screamed his name. Right now, he seemed half-listening to his friends, a hint of a lazy grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he leaned back, eyes drifting up to the ceiling before refocusing on his friends. It was that easygoing confidence that made him impossible not to notice—and, for you, impossible not to think about.
It was a boy from his friend group, Jay, who interrupted the class chatter by slapping a hand down on the table and teasing, “Come on, Won. You don’t have a soulmate mark, my foot. No one gets off that easy.” The comment was light-hearted but loaded, and more than a few students turned to look.
To your surprise, Jungwon didn’t react with one of his usual witty comebacks or careless shrugs. Instead, he just rubbed the back of his neck, a hint of something almost vulnerable flashing across his face. “No, really,” he insisted, almost apologetically. “I don’t have one. I checked a million times as a kid.”
Your pen paused mid-note, and a slight, irrational disappointment prickled in your chest. It was hard to believe, especially about someone like Jungwon, whose very presence seemed destined to leave a mark on others. Soulmate marks might be rare, but someone like him not having one? It felt impossible, like a missing piece that no one noticed until it was too late.
For a fleeting moment, you wondered if maybe he just hadn’t found it yet. After all, some people only discovered their mark when it finally turned to color. Sometimes it wasn’t a visible spot on the skin but something far subtler—a shadow in the hue of their lips that would only brighten after a first kiss, or a darkness lingering in an eye, invisible until the gentle touch of someone wiping away their tears brought it to life. The thought sent a strange warmth to your cheeks as you glanced back toward him, wondering if Jungwon’s missing mark was just waiting for the right person to unlock it.
Still, he looked surprisingly honest, a faint hint of sadness clouding his otherwise bright gaze. For someone so magnetic, it was as if he was caught drifting in space, without any tether connecting him to anyone at all.
“Alright, alright,” Jay relented, raising his hands in surrender but laughing all the same. “Guess someone’s too cool to be fated to anyone, huh?”
The professor’s voice cut back in, and you forced yourself to refocus, though your mind lingered on Jungwon’s quiet expression and the flicker of something in his eyes, something both resigned and deeply private. Could he really be alone in a world where everyone else was bound to someone?
“Imagine having your mark on your knuckles,” Arin whispered beside you with a grin, oblivious to the moment that had just passed. “You’d probably knock your soulmate out before you even realized they were ‘the one’!”
Another round of laughter scattered through the room, like a shared inside joke. The air felt charged, as if everyone were suddenly curious about each other’s marks, glancing around with new eyes. You let out a small sigh, tapping your pen against your notebook with a faint smile. As much as you tried to keep up the class president, model-student act, the idea of soulmates fascinated you in a way you’d never quite admit.
When the bell finally rang, the room filled with that familiar end-of-class chaos. You started packing up, keeping your head down—until you noticed Jungwon slinging his bag over his shoulder, looking effortlessly put-together, as usual. He laughed at something his friend said, his expression relaxed, his dark eyes flickering with amusement. But you couldn’t help catching the faintest flicker of something else in his gaze as he glanced at his friends—like a momentary, unguarded look that felt… wistful?
Okay, maybe that was just you being overly imaginative.
You let out a little huff as you slung your own bag over your shoulder, shaking off the strange pity you’d felt moments before. So what if Jungwon didn’t have a mark? You barely even knew him. Well, you kind of knew him, but from a distance—and with way more daydreams than you’d like to admit. Still, it was silly to wonder about him, right? With your head full of these thoughts, you walked out into the hallway, lost in a world where maybe, just maybe, he was wondering about you, too.
And as you brushed past a group of friends, laughing and shoving each other, your hand slipped over the back of your knee, where your own mark was hidden—quiet, waiting, and as mysterious as ever.
The sky was an endless blue, stretching wide over the school field as your class spilled out onto the grass for PE. With the teacher conveniently on vacation, today’s instructions were simple: enjoy the free time. Most of your classmates took to the field, breaking off into little clusters for a lazy game of soccer, light stretches, or simple gossip sessions by the bleachers.
As class president, you took it upon yourself to ensure no one went too far or caused trouble. Your duty, as you saw it, was to survey your classmates from a slight distance, keeping an eye out with the calm, serious gaze you’d carefully perfected. Yet even from the sidelines, your eyes found themselves drifting toward a familiar figure on the field, drawn to him like magnets.
Jungwon was at the center of the field with his friends, casual and relaxed, but his every move carried an elegance that made your pulse skip. He was laughing at something his friend said, his eyes crinkling as he kicked the soccer ball back and forth, the glint of a confident smirk tugging at his lips. His ease on the field was mesmerizing, a mixture of strength and grace that made it hard to look away.
You reminded yourself to focus, scanning the field to check on the other groups. But before you could pull your attention back entirely, a voice called out, and you saw Jungwon pivot to chase the soccer ball—only for it to ricochet off his foot, headed directly toward you with alarming speed.
In the split second it took you to react, you felt a sharp thud against the back of your knees. The impact sent you stumbling forward, knees buckling beneath you as you tumbled to the ground. Pain flared up where the ball had struck, but it was drowned out by the shock of it all.
“Oh no—are you okay?” Jungwon’s voice was breathless with concern, his steps hurried as he reached you. You barely had a chance to process his arrival before he knelt beside you, face flushed and clearly panicked. His hand hovered awkwardly as if afraid to touch you, his usual calm replaced with something far more vulnerable.
“I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to— Are you hurt?” he stammered, his voice unusually soft. He reached out gently, his hands carefully brushing against your arm as he tried to help you up. “Can you stand?”
Your mind struggled to catch up to the moment, and it took everything you had to keep your stoic demeanor intact. Jungwon was close, closer than he’d ever been, and the intensity of his worried gaze was unexpectedly disarming. Even as pain pulsed through your knee, you couldn’t help but stare, captivated by how intensely he focused on you, as if everything else in the world had fallen away.
“I’m fine, really,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. But as soon as you tried to stand, pain shot up your leg.
Jungwon’s expression shifted to one of determination, and before you could protest, he slid one arm under your knees and lifted you up, his other arm around your shoulders. The world tilted as he held you in a firm, steady grip, his face barely inches from yours. “We’re getting you to the nurse. No arguments.”
You blinked, momentarily stunned by his closeness, by the warmth radiating from him. “Oh—okay.” The words left your mouth almost on instinct, your brain still catching up with the fact that Jungwon was carrying you, his focus set entirely on you. His hands brushed your arm as he adjusted his grip, and you felt a strange warmth bloom under your skin, something unfamiliar and electric.
The walk to the nurse’s office was quiet, but you couldn’t ignore the way his gaze flickered to you, the gentleness in his expression as he murmured, “Sorry again. I’d never forgive myself if I hurt the class president.”
Your lips parted, searching for something to say, but the way he looked at you—soft, maybe even a bit shy—left you wordless. All you could do was nod, your heart pounding louder with each step as you held onto the feeling of his arms around you, wondering if he could hear it too.
It wasn’t until you glanced down that you noticed it—a faint shift of color beneath your knee where the ball had struck. The mark, once hidden and dark, now radiated a subtle but unmistakable bright yellow hue, soft and warm against your skin.
You froze, eyes wide, as the realization settled in. Jungwon was still mumbling apologies, unaware of the discovery you’d just made. Only he could have caused the mark to change; he was the only one who had touched that spot. The idea left you breathless, your mind scrambling to make sense of it all.
In the clinic, the nurse examined your knee with a quick, professional assessment. “You’ll be fine,” she declared, sending you off with an ice pack and a faint smile. But your thoughts were still racing, tangled up in the startling realization that Jungwon might actually be your soulmate.
The whole walk back to class, you replayed the moment in your mind, trying to make sense of it. Maybe it was a coincidence. Perhaps someone had brushed the back of your knee at some other time, and you simply hadn’t noticed. But deep down, you knew the truth—the mark had only changed when Jungwon touched you.
And when you returned to class, he was there, hovering near the door with a worried frown. He looked up as you approached, eyes bright with relief.
“Are you okay?” he asked, a slight smile breaking through the concern etched into his features. “I was worried about you.”
Your heart skipped as you nodded, doing your best to keep your voice steady. “I’m fine. Just… a bit shaken up, that’s all.” You felt the weight of the new secret pressing down on you, but you forced yourself to smile.
Jungwon’s shoulders relaxed, and he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck in that effortlessly charming way of his. “I’m glad. I’ll be more careful with my aim next time.”
You smiled back, feeling the weight of the mark’s new color, of the quiet truth only you knew. As Jungwon returned to his seat, your gaze drifted to the back of your knee, where the mark lay hidden under the fabric of your clothes, now touched by color—by him.
In the days following the incident on the field, the world seemed to shift around you, humming with an energy you couldn’t quite shake. The back of your knee, where Jungwon’s touch had changed your soulmate mark to a soft, distinct yellow color, was a constant reminder of the possibility that your crush—Jungwon, the ever-handsome and kind soccer captain—might be something even more significant than you’d ever dared to imagine.
“How’s your knee?” he asked, his voice warm and tinged with that familiar gentleness that made your heart stutter.
“Oh, it’s fine, really!” You waved it off, attempting to tuck your leg further under your desk, hoping he wouldn’t notice the faint new color to the mark that still lingered behind your knee.
Jungwon didn’t seem to buy it. “Are you sure?” he asked, his brows furrowing as he leaned down, intent on seeing for himself. Before he could get a closer look, you tugged your skirt down a little farther, hiding the mark as best as you could.
“I’m sure, really,” you insisted, trying to keep your tone casual. “It’s just a little sore, nothing to worry about.”
For a moment, he hesitated, his gaze lingering on you, unreadable. Then he nodded, standing up with a quiet, sheepish smile. “Alright. I’ll trust you, but only if you promise to let me know if it starts hurting again.”
You managed a nod, clutching your books a little tighter to keep your hands steady. “I promise,” you said, hoping he didn’t notice the flicker of nerves in your eyes.
Your third shared class of the week was English, and just as the teacher assigned the day’s group work, the class began to shift into pairs. Coincidentally (or so you told yourself), the seating arrangement placed Jungwon near you that day.
“Hey,” he said, his voice soft as he approached. He offered you one of his signature, heart-stopping smiles. “Mind if we pair up? I mean…if you’re okay with it.”
With an effort to keep your expression neutral, you nodded. “Sure,” you replied, your voice steady even though your heart was anything but.
Settling at a table near the window, you both pulled out your notebooks. The task was straightforward—analyzing a poem about soulmates. You caught a breath at the irony, and Jungwon, seemingly unfazed, began reading the passage aloud. His voice, low and calm, wove through the words as you listened, though your mind kept wandering to his every movement, the way his eyes flickered thoughtfully over the page, how his fingers held the pencil lightly but with intention.
“What do you think?” he asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.
You cleared your throat, willing your focus back to the assignment. “I think…well, it’s romantic. But it’s also kind of tragic, right? There’s always this sense of waiting—like, what if they don’t meet?”
Jungwon’s gaze flickered up, lingering on your face a little longer than necessary. “Yeah, that’s true,” he agreed, his voice thoughtful. “The idea that you’re waiting your whole life for just one person…it’s a lot of pressure.”
He paused, eyes settling on you, as if searching for something beneath the calm exterior you held so tightly. “Do you… believe in it? Soulmates, I mean?”
Caught off guard, you looked down, your fingers tracing invisible patterns on the edge of your notebook. You thought of your parents, of their own lovely story about finding each other through their marks, and how you’d grown up with those tales of destiny. And now, here you were, sitting with the very boy who might be your own fated match.
“I think,” you began slowly, “that I want to believe in it. My parents…they have one of those classic stories. It’s hard not to believe in soulmates when you’ve heard stories like that all your life.”
He nodded, listening intently. “I get that. I guess…sometimes I wonder what it would be like. But it’s hard to picture when you don’t…you know, have any marks yourself.”
The quiet sadness in his tone took you by surprise. You’d never considered what it might be like to go through life without a soulmate mark, to feel like something intrinsic was missing, a feeling that destiny had passed you by. Suddenly, your thoughts flickered back to the legends the elders told—how markless people were said to carry the weight of unrequited love from a past life, doomed to wander without a soulmate to mark them in this one. The idea hung heavy in the air, mingling with your sympathy for him.
“Maybe it doesn’t matter, then,” you murmured, almost to yourself. “Maybe people without marks find their person too, in other ways.” You couldn’t help but think that perhaps Jungwon was one of those souls, burdened by a love that never came to fruition.
The silence that followed was heavy but not uncomfortable. Jungwon seemed lost in thought, his gaze drifting out the window as he considered your words. And just then, a strange sense of comfort washed over you, knowing that even if he was unaware of it, you shared a connection that went beyond what either of you could see.
“Maybe,” he said finally, and then he flashed you a lopsided grin. “Well, even if soulmates are real, maybe it’s a good thing I’m mark-free. I don’t think I’d want someone to find out I was their soulmate because I hit them with a soccer ball.”
His laughter rang out, and you couldn’t help but join him, but beneath the mirth, your heart clenched. You wanted to tell him everything—to reveal the secret that could bridge the chasm between you. But as the words formed on your lips, fear gripped you. What if you were wrong? What if he truly didn’t have a soulmate mark, and this moment of connection was just a fleeting illusion?
So you swallowed hard, plastering a smile on your face that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Well, let’s just keep that between us, then,” you replied, hoping to mask the anxiety swirling inside you.
Inside, the truth weighed heavy, a secret that felt more like a burden than a bond. Keeping it hidden seemed safer, easier—even if it left you feeling like a ghost, drifting alongside him but never truly reaching out. The thought of him being one of those markless souls—the ones who carried the pain of a love never realized—made you ache. You didn’t want him to feel that emptiness, and yet, here you were, hiding a truth that might shatter the fragile connection you shared.
Perhaps it was better this way. Better to hold onto your heartache in silence than risk shattering the bond you had built, no matter how tenuous it felt. As you returned to the assignment, the bittersweet taste of longing lingered on your tongue, mixing with the thrill of possibility, leaving you torn between the hope of what could be and the fear of what might never come to pass.
Finally, during your biology class, your teacher assigned a laboratory cleaning rotation. By the luck of the draw—or maybe a twist of fate—you found yourself paired with Jungwon. It was supposed to be a simple task, but as the two of you gathered supplies and began tidying up the classroom after hours, you felt the weight of every quiet moment.
Jungwon appeared beside you as you straightened a stack of textbooks, arms full of markers and erasers. His casual, laid-back attitude only heightened the quiet thrill that being near him sparked in you. As he handed you an eraser, your fingers brushed slightly, and you pulled back quickly, heart racing.
"Are you always this… serious?" Jungwon teased, his lips curving into a half-smile. "I mean, you don’t have to look like we’re cleaning the whole school."
You rolled your eyes, fighting back a smile. “It’s just how I work. I take tasks seriously.”
He nodded, still smiling. “You’re impressive, you know. It’s like…you’re always so composed, like nothing rattles you.”
Caught off guard by his observation, you froze momentarily, not sure how to respond. Behind your serious exterior, you were anything but composed—especially around him. Before you could answer, he turned away to tidy the bookshelves, leaving you wondering if he’d picked up on the effect he had on you.
After a while, Jungwon returned to the task at hand, dusting off a few of the windowsills. It was quiet for a few minutes, the sounds of your combined effort filling the room. You both worked in sync, a silent rhythm that had developed without either of you realizing it. And then, with an abruptness that caught you off guard, he spoke again.
“Hey,” he said, hesitating. “I know this might be a weird question, but… where’s your soulmate mark?”
The question hung in the air between you, heavy with implications you weren’t ready to unravel. Your heart thudded as you carefully set down the books you’d been holding, gathering your thoughts.
You felt a flush creep up your cheeks. "Um, it's… it's on my knee," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. The intimacy of the moment made you shy, and you instinctively shifted your weight, the hem of your skirt falling to cover your knee even more.
Jungwon raised an eyebrow, curiosity glimmering in his eyes. “Oh? Is it… already in color?”
You hesitated for a brief moment, weighing your words. “Uh, yeah,” you replied, biting your lip. “It changed a while ago. But it’s not a big deal.” You left out the part about him possibly being your soulmate, feeling the weight of that truth settle heavily in the air between you.
His expression shifted slightly, disappointment flashing across his features before he masked it with a casual smile. “That’s cool,” he said, his voice a bit quieter now. “I guess… it must be nice to have that certainty.”
“Yeah,” you said, trying to keep the mood light despite the sudden heaviness in your chest. “I mean, it’s comforting, I suppose.”
But beneath your words, a sense of longing stirred. You noticed how his gaze faltered for a moment, and it struck you then how much he had hoped for something different. He had seemed eager, maybe even hopeful, and the realization stung a little.
Jungwon cleared his throat, breaking the silence that had settled over you both. “So, um… did you see the last soccer game?” he asked, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction. “I think we really need to work on our defense.”
His attempt at lightheartedness felt slightly forced, and you could see a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. Still, it was nice to see him trying to shake off the heaviness from moments before.
“Yeah, I caught a bit of it,” you replied, grateful for the shift in focus. “You guys played well, though a couple of those goals were pretty close calls.”
He chuckled, the tension easing just a little. “Yeah, I think I almost gave our coach a heart attack with that last-minute save,” he said, grinning. It was an infectious smile, and you found yourself smiling back despite the weight still resting in the back of your mind.
The annual school festival arrived faster than expected, and the campus buzzed with activity and excitement. Classrooms were transformed into themed booths, hallways were draped with handmade decorations, and students wore colorful festival shirts and badges, their faces bright with paint and laughter. You found yourself stationed at the face-painting booth, brush in hand, ready to tackle the endless line of eager students.
You’d always enjoyed events like these—participating in the festival offered you a rare chance to relax and feel connected to your classmates outside of the usual seriousness you maintained as class president. Here, you were just another student, painting stars, hearts, and stripes on familiar faces.
“Hey, what’s up? Need a painter?” your friend Taeyoung called out to the next group approaching your booth. You followed his gaze and felt your heart skip when you recognized Jungwon and his friends heading your way, laughing and jostling each other. He wore a loose festival shirt with sleeves rolled up, a casual look that somehow made him even more handsome. You quickly glanced down, suddenly hyper-aware of your paintbrushes and the paper towels you clutched a little too tightly.
The booth was busy, and with most of your fellow painters occupied, it didn’t take long for Taeyoung to pair Jungwon with you. “Hey, Y/N, looks like you’ve got a VIP customer! Captain Jungwon wants to be a canvas today,” he said, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he nudged Jungwon playfully.
Jungwon chuckled, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—an eagerness mixed with a hint of shyness. “Yeah, I guess I’m in your hands now,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “No pressure, right?”
You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure as your heart raced. “Uh, right! No pressure at all,” you replied, your voice a little too bright. “What do you have in mind?”
You forced yourself to meet Jungwon’s eyes, fighting back the nervous excitement bubbling in your chest. “So… what would you like?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.
Jungwon’s usual confident smile softened a little, and he seemed slightly hesitant, rubbing the back of his neck, a gesture that made your stomach flutter. “Maybe a couple of stars on my cheeks? And… maybe a small cat on my forehead?”
You stifled a laugh at his request, realizing that behind his composed demeanor, he had a playful side you hadn’t seen before. “A star and a cat. Got it,” you whispered, dipping your brush into white paint. You reached out carefully to steady his face, tilting it slightly toward the light. Your fingers lightly touched his cheek, and you couldn’t ignore the spark that jolted through you at the contact.
Jungwon closed his eyes briefly, letting out a small breath. You tried to ignore the slight flush you felt creeping up your neck, focusing on drawing a perfect star on his left cheek. You painted in silence, but every so often, he’d open his eyes and glance at you, making your heart race each time.
With one cheek finished, you moved to the other side. He leaned in closer, giving you the perfect angle. The space between you seemed to shrink with every second, the sounds of the bustling festival fading into a distant hum. You were hyper-aware of everything—the faint scent of his cologne, the warmth radiating from him, and how your fingers gently brushed his skin. When you finished with the stars, you pulled back slightly to look at your work, meeting his gaze as you did.
“They look good,” he murmured, his voice softer than usual.
You swallowed, breaking eye contact to reach for a new brush and dip it in black paint. “Now for the cat,” you said, trying to stay calm. “Hold still.”
You carefully moved to part his hair at the center of his forehead. As your fingers brushed through his bangs, you froze, your eyes widening as you saw something strange—a small patch of his dark hair was shifting, lightening to a soft honey-blonde under your touch.
“Um… Jungwon,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath as you stared at the transformed lock of hair falling against his forehead. “Your hair…”
“What about it?” He turned to you with a hint of confusion, glancing up as if trying to catch a glimpse of the change. “Did I mess it up?”
You shook your head, the words tangling in your throat as disbelief washed over you. “It’s… it’s changing color.”
He blinked, clearly caught off guard, then brushed his fingers through the area you’d touched. His movements stilled, the warmth in his expression fading, replaced by something deeper—something unreadable. The air thickened around you, a heavy silence filled with unspoken questions.
“Are you sure?” he asked quietly, his gaze searching yours as if trying to decode the truth hidden beneath your surprise.
You nodded slowly, your heart racing. “Yeah, I… I thought it was just the paint at first, but… it’s definitely not.”
The realization hung in the air, electric and palpable, igniting a spark of tension that sent shivers down your spine. Jungwon’s fingers gently traced the newly lightened strands of hair, his expression a mix of wonder and trepidation. You could feel your pulse quicken, an exhilarating rush flooding through you as you grasped the meaning behind this strange phenomenon.
Time seemed to stretch in that moment, each heartbeat echoing like a drum in your chest. Here he was, the boy you’d admired from afar, unexpectedly transformed before your eyes. Jungwon—the one who had unwittingly painted your world in vibrant colors, now literally changing right in front of you.
Suddenly, self-consciousness washed over you like a cold wave. You averted your gaze, stepping back instinctively. “I—I should go finish with the others. They’re probably waiting for me…” Your voice wavered, betraying the rush of emotions threatening to spill over.
Before you could dwell on it, a paint container wobbled on the edge of the table, knocking into your elbow. In your panic, you stumbled, sending brushes and colors sprawling over yourself. “Oh no!” you yelped, scrambling to clean up the mess.
“Y/N, wait!” Jungwon exclaimed, his eyes widening in surprise. He stepped closer, his hand closing around yours, halting your frantic movements. “Stop. Just breathe.”
His grip was steadying, grounding you amidst the chaos of your racing thoughts. “Let’s find somewhere quiet, okay? You need to clean up.” His voice held a calmness that contrasted sharply with the storm inside you.
You felt a rush of warmth at his concern, but your mind spun with confusion. “But… the booth—”
“Trust me,” he said, his gaze unwavering, a silent promise passing between you. “Just for a moment. Let’s talk.”
With a nod, you allowed him to guide you away from the festival’s noise, your heart racing not just from the moment, but from the undeniable connection building between you. The thrill of discovery was tempered by the anxiety of what it all meant, and yet, in Jungwon’s presence, you felt something shift—something new and exciting, just waiting to be explored.
He led you through a quieter section of the campus, where the walls were lined with colorful murals painted by students, the air filled with the faint scent of paint and creativity. The laughter and chatter from the festival faded into the background, replaced by the gentle rustle of leaves overhead and the distant sound of music drifting from the booths.
As you turned a corner, Jungwon paused, the air around you suddenly thick with anticipation. He glanced around, ensuring you were alone, then leaned against the cool brick wall, his posture relaxed yet focused. His gaze locked onto yours, intensity radiating from him. “My hair… it’s slowly turning blond. Isn’t this what soulmate marks are supposed to be like?”
His words hung in the air, electrifying the space between you. You felt the weight of the moment press down, your heart racing like a wild drum in your chest. “Right… your soulmate mark,” you stammered, the tremor in your voice betraying the chaos inside. “I didn’t want to say anything because I thought it might just be a coincidence, but now… it's all starting to make sense.”
Jungwon stepped closer, the seriousness in his expression deepening. “You mean you knew?” His voice was low, the edge of urgency evident. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
The air crackled with tension, and you felt your pulse quicken. “I didn’t know it was you! I thought—” you cut yourself off, frustration bubbling within you. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship or make things awkward. You’ve been my crush longer than you’ve been a friend. Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep things from being awkward with you, especially when my mark changed?”
Jungwon’s expression shifted, vulnerability breaking through his confidence. “Your mark... is it.… when did it change? Am I—was it before… or after we met?” His voice was tight, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air.
You took a deep breath, feeling the memories rush back. “The day you carried me to the nurse’s office, you idiot.”
He blinked, taken aback by your response. “Wait… that day? But I thought...”
His expression softened slightly, the intensity in his eyes shifting as he took a step closer. You held your breath as he knelt down, his fingers hovering over your soulmate mark. The moment felt electric, a mix of vulnerability and anticipation coursing through you.
“Can I…?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
You nodded, giving him permission to touch it. As his fingers brushed against your skin, a shiver ran down your spine. Jungwon chuckled softly, the sound breaking some of the tension between you. “Can you believe this? It feels just like yesterday when I accidentally hit my crush with a soccer ball at her knees,” he said, shaking his head with a bemused smile. “The same crush I’ve wanted to approach since 10th grade but was always too afraid to mess up, especially with how she glares at boys.”
You couldn’t help but laugh, the image of a younger Jungwon fumbling with his words as he tried to impress you suddenly vivid in your mind. “I didn’t mean to scare you off,” you admitted, your heart swelling with warmth. “I thought you were just… confident, you know?”
He shrugged, a hint of shyness creeping back into his demeanor. “I try to be. But it’s hard when you’re crushing on someone who’s out of your league.”
“Out of my league?” you repeated, incredulous. “Jungwon, you’re the captain of the soccer team! Everyone looks up to you.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m not nervous around you,” he replied, his gaze locking onto yours, sincerity pouring from his words. “It’s different with you. You make me want to be better.”
The air between you thickened with unspoken emotions, each heartbeat echoing the connection that had always been there, waiting to be acknowledged. You both stood on the edge of something monumental, the laughter of the festival fading away, leaving only the two of you and the promise of what lay ahead.
The next day, Jungwon strolled confidently down the hallway, his head of hair transformed into a stunning honeyed blonde that turned heads with every step. The shift was striking—bold, noticeable, and oddly fitting—making it seem as though he had always intended to embrace this change. Whispers and awestruck glances followed him like a gentle wave, yet beneath that cool exterior, you could see the spark of mischief in his eyes, especially when they met yours.
“Wow, he really went all out,” Arin murmured beside you, her voice a mix of surprise and admiration. “He must’ve bleached the whole thing. I didn’t think Jungwon had that in him.”
You nodded, trying to maintain your composure while your heart raced. “Yeah… surprising, isn’t it?” you replied, though a smile betrayed your nonchalance as you watched him navigate the crowd like he owned the place.
Unaware of the true significance of his transformation, your classmates continued their commentary. “Looks good on him, though,” one girl remarked, her tone infused with genuine admiration. “Like he was meant to have it all along.”
Jungwon seemed completely unfazed by the attention, wearing his new look with a blend of pride and ease, as if his blonde hair was a badge of honor that only you understood. It was a mark that connected the two of you in ways that no one else could fathom—an intimate secret wrapped in boldness.
As the hallway thinned out, he lingered by his locker, his casual demeanor slipping just a bit as he caught your gaze from across the hall. He lifted a hand, brushing back his hair with an effortless charm that sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach—a subtle nod to the secret you shared.
You walked over, your heart pounding just a little faster than usual. “It suits you,” you said, keeping your voice low, the air between you thick with unspoken words.
His eyes softened, gratitude shimmering in their depths. “Good to know,” he murmured, his tone low but filled with warmth. “After all, it’s your fault it looks this good.”
A faint blush crept up your cheeks at his words, and before you could respond, he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice even more as he added, “And don’t worry. The secret’s safe.”
In that crowded hallway, with laughter and footsteps echoing around you, it felt like you and Jungwon were enveloped in your own little world. His blonde hair, like a silent vow, was a reminder of what only the two of you understood: a hidden connection, pulsing with promise and anticipation, waiting to be explored.
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“MILLION DOLLAR MAN — bruce wayne.
PAIRING! bruce wayne 𝒙 fem!reader SYNOPSIS! bruce met you through a dating app (his sons’ doing, really) and the temptation to invite you over for christmas is getting harder to resist WORD COUNT! 3.6k WARNINGS / TAGS! fluff, bruce is literally down bad for reader in this one, unedited + lmk if found! NOTES! for nat & based on this req. , header bellow belongs to @/v6que © ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified
BRUCE WAYNE AVOIDED RELATIONSHIPS LIKE A SOLDIER DODGING BULLETS, each attempt adding yet another layer to the armor he wore daily. He didn’t need them, the women, or so he told himself. They entered his life easily — at his own charity galas, where one pretty bird thought she could get a kiss from him by the end of the night. Female admirers who ate up his charming smiles and sharp eyes seemed to flock around him at all times. And those countless girls who were lured in by the Wayne name, the status, the wealth.
And Bruce gave them the attention they craved from him.
The women served their purpose as brief districtions, companions who helped him maintain his public image, but none of them really mattered to him.
They kept the colder side of his bed warm, but never his heart.
It wasn’t that Bruce didn’t want love — some part of him did, but that part was buried under the weight of Batman. Allowing himself to lose the walls around him and find an attachment in a woman wasn't something his alter ego was okay with, not with the way he’d been living. And another part convinced him that his duties as Gotham’s protector, with all his scars and wounds, didn’t make him a possible object for such things. Love and vigilantism didn’t mingle together well.
Maybe that’s why his own sons and personal butler teamed up on him. Batman was a hero to many, but with how much it damaged Bruce’s internal beliefs, it would ruin him soon enough.
It started as something innocent (but it seemed the wolf was clothed in sheep’s wool): Dick, his oldest, had teased him about his non-existent love life during a training session in the Batcave.
The large space was full with flickering lights coming from the monitors and grunts from the fighting men. Sweat filled the air, masculine and strong, but that only indicated to the hard work they were doing. Training wasn’t easy, they liked to train with the maximum intensity ( it was kinda needed, too ) and it showed. From their damp hair and glistening skin to the rippling muscles underneath their clothes.
“You know, Bruce,” his son started when he blocked yet another strike coming from the man in question. A puff of air left his mouth upon the attack. Not fair. “for someone who spends his nights saving people, you sure are terrible at saving yourself from eternal loneliness.”
Bruce delivered another jab, this one directed straight at Dick’s weak point. “Not now, Dick.”
But his son was nothing if not persistent and he always got what he wanted, whether it was with or without serious consequences. “I’m serious. When was the last time you went on a date? And don’t try to tell me you had one on your arm during the last charity event. That doesn’t count.”
Both of them fully knew Bruce’s arm candies were way more interested in his name and money than in his heart and soul. The truth made his jaw muscles tighten at the realization.
“My personal life is irrelevant to my work.”
Dick took the opportunity and circled the older man like a predator catching the prey’s scent of blood. A sweet weakness, that one. He’d be stupid if he didn’t take the chance. “Is it though? I mean, sure, you’re great at taking down supervillains and brooding on top of high rooftops, but even Batman needs a little action sometimes. The different kind of action, of course. Or are you planning to spend the rest of your life married to the job?”
Bruce swiped his right leg toward Dick’s shins, trying to take him down like he was the said supervillain but the acrobat jumped right on time, avoiding Bruce’s attempt with a grin on his face.
He landed on his feet and crossed his arms at his chest, leaning the weight of his body against one leg. The playfulness disappeared from both his voice and expression and instead, seriousness graced him whole. “Seriously, Bruce, even Alfred’s worried. He brought it up the other day while we were decorating the tree. Something about how the manor feels colder than usual this year.”
“The heating system is fine.”
With Jason gone, it was the truth. His second son had this strange relationship with all the members of the family. Off and on. Off and on. No one truly knew where they stood in Jason’s eyes but he made the effort and showed up on Christmas Eve the other year upon receiving Alfred’s invitation.
Bruce doubted he would show up two years in a row.
“That’s not what he meant, and you know it,” Dick pressed, and effectively added more salt into Bruce’s wounds. It stung and it fucking hurt. As much as Batman was ruthless, it didn’t mean the man under the mask was resistant against the pain his life brought. “You’re not getting any younger, B. It wouldn’t kill you to let someone in. And I don’t mean us. Try to meet someone who isn’t friendly with a criminal record.”
The older man could only stare helplessly at the other. Those words his son, partner, spoke were loud, crawling their way into his mind and much to his dismay, his heart as well.
Before he could voice his dismissal, a younger voice called out. It was familiar in a way family tended to be.
“You are wasting your breath, Grayson. Father has neither the time nor the inclination to entertain your nonsense,” his youngest son declared into the space of Batcave, his voice ringing out and echoing every single word. The blood son, Damian Wayne.
The father didn’t even flinch, just let out a deep sigh through his nose. It was as usual between those two, always bickering from Damian’s side and teasing remarks from Dick’s. You could mistake the blood running through their system as one, if not for the physical differences. They were brothers in all but red.
“Damian,” Dick started in that lecturing tone he’d always seemed to use with the younger boy, “when was the last time you saw Bruce here even try to have a social life?”
Damian rolled his eyes, the green disappearing behind his eyelids before they reappeared, rougher than they were. “The so called ‘social life’ you’re referring to consists of women who barely last through dinner. Why would he waste his energy on distractions when Gotham requires his full attention?”
“Because even Batman needs a break. You know, normal human things? Like dating, smiling, not dying alone in this cave surrounded by bats?”
“If Father is content with his choices, who are you to meddle? Unlike you, he does not require constant companionship to validate his existence.”
“Ouch,” Dick put his palm against his heart in a mocking manner, feigning hurt as his lips formed a pout. “You’ve got a real gift for the Christmas spirit, don’t you?”
The younger son narrowed his eyes at his supposed brother. The constant bickering was almost normal in their lives so far, and nothing seemed to be changing any time soon. He had to learn how to live with the excuse of a brother, although he started to form a light liking towards him. He wasn’t so bad. “I only speak the truth,” his green irises flicked to Bruce. “Though it is peculiar he tolerates your interference. Perhaps even Father has realized how pathetic his current romantic life—or lack thereof—appears.”
The object of the conversation let out another sigh, this one loud enough for the boys to hear. Their gazes snapped toward Bruce with accusingly great speed.
“If you two are done debating my personal life, there’s actual work to be done.”
He missed the glance his oldest threw at the youngest. He missed the look filled with amusement and a plan that was already brewing. He missed the nod they gave each other, although Dick’s was more pronounced and determined.
The next few hours were spent creating Bruce’s dating app profile.
The final result was the definition of real sugar daddy vibes. Every detail had been debated (mostly argued over though) and thought through, so to say the boys were satisfied with it was an understatement. The oldest prided in the work, saying how it would get so many women to reply which would eventually lead to the right one. The middle one Dick and Damian (only Dick) dragged into the activity beamed up once the profile was set while the youngest scoffed and scowled during the entire process.
During the next evening, the boys showed the main man his new account.
Bruce was left speechless upon seeing the bright screen flash before his eyes. Not a single word was muttered as he watched his boys showing him the app and explaining how exactly it worked (he’d never used a dating app before all this so bear with him). The main photo on the profile was a candid one of him, the one Cass had taken on a sunny day in the Wayne Manor gardern. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt, the long sleeves rolled up past his elbows as the muscles of his forearms bulged up. The faintest smile tugged at the corner of his lips, the sunlight casting shadows across his sharp features and Bruce had to admit they chose a good photo.
It wasn’t intimidating, but it wasn’t exactly friendly as well. The good old middle.
The boys knew he was convinced to give it a try when he waved them off with a deep sigh slipping past his lips.
The game was on.
It was past the midnight when he lied in his bed, propped against one too many pillows and wondered why he was still scrolling through the damned dating app. It was late—far past the time he should have been out on patrol, but Red Hood and Red Robin got it covered for him.
Bruce wasn’t looking for anything specific, really. If he were honest, this whole situation felt out of place for him. Swiping through the profiles was more like an exercise for his thumb.
First was Madison K. Her profile opened with flashy colors that immediately put Bruce into a doubtful situation. Were all these women going to be like this? Madison was beautiful and her looks screamed professionalism: her makeup was done flawlessly, adorning her bright eyes and full lips. She looked like she belonged on a cover for a fashion magazine, not a dating app. Her bio made his thumb swipe left.
‘Manifesting my best life. CEO of my own happiness. Looking for someone who’s successful, ambitious, and knows how to treat me like a queen.’
The next account’s bio made him grimace and swipe left once again.
‘Looking for someone who can keep me living the dream. If you’re successful, generous, and ready to spoil me, let’s talk.”
At this point, Bruce was ready to delete the dating app his boys set up and enjoy the rest of his night. Most of the profiles he swiped through were simply bland to him. Nothing felt genuine. Right. It was safe to say he was losing the hope Dick had set in him earlier in the evening. Until he stumbled upon your profile.
The account stood out among the others—simple, elegant, but with a certain amount of warmth that seemed genuine. Bruce’s heart skipped a beat once he scrolled further and came across your photo. The picture showed you in a cozy cafe, the one Steph adored so much for their cinnamon roll buns. A soft smile danced on your pretty face, highlighting the curve of your cheeks as you looked off to the side. You captured Bruce in a way the others didn’t.
You looked like a fawn surrounded by hungry wolves. You were admirable while they were craving wealth and status. Two different sides of a coin, but Bruce had already known his pick.
Your bio was sincere, a sight the man liked to see.
‘I enjoy the little moments — finding beauty in the simple things. I believe in kindness, and I’m looking for someone who values honesty and a deep conversation.’
His mind flicked briefly toward the countless hours he spends in the cave, surrounded by work and worries. You seemed like the one who could understand the balance between the quiet and the loud, someone who could exist in both of his worlds without losing that spark you held in your gaze.
Before he could overthink it, Bruce clicked on the “message” button.
Once the screen of your non-existent chat appeared, his mind went blank and all he was capable of was to stare mindlessly at the phone. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, but no words came to him. What did one say to someone like you? He wasn’t used to thinking ahead when it came to women. This was a new field. And he couldn’t screw up.
Finally, his fingers moved before his mind could think of whatever embarrassing thing it was capable of.
> Hey, I noticed your profile and wanted to reach out. There’s something about your words that struck a chord with me. I’d like to know more about you.
And that’s how the two of you started your relationship, or whatever you could call it. Neither of you voiced it as official, but that was okay. He hadn’t expected to feel this way, not so soon. And yet it came at him, crashing like a large wave of emotions every time you were around. You changed everything for him.
Your conversations became the highlight of his days.
His ears perked up every single time without a fail when he heard the soft ‘ping!’ of the notification, already convinced it was from you (and it 98 percent was). Whether it was early in the morning before he started working in the chaotic Wayne Enterprises or late at night when the Batcave was quiet and felt at peace. You were always there with him.
You were thoughtful, generous, and refreshingly kind. You asked him questions that no one else dared to: what he wanted from life, what made him happy, what kept him awake at night. You didn’t flinch at his silence. You didn’t push him to give answers he wasn’t ready to share. You understood him in a way only a few people did.
Piece by piece, he let you into his world — not that part filled with constant danger and threats, but that part that longed for something real.
By the time Christmas approached, Bruce was sure of one thing: he wanted you in his life.
The holiday was just around the corner, filling the air with joy and gratitude as it always did. The snow was blanketing the streets with white powder, and although many people were complaining about the cold, it had its charm.
Christmas had always been about family for Bruce, about gathering around the tree and full table with the people who mattered most. It was lonely at first, after the death of his parents, but over the years, Alfred had made it work. The table was always full of tasty food the kids adored and presents Bruce knew would make them more than happy were neatly waiting for them every morning after Christmas Eve.
This year though, Bruce wanted it to be a little different. He wanted you to be part of it.
You might actually fit into the chaos of the Wayne family — the teasing and playful banters between you, Dick, and Tim would be absolute gold to hear. You probably even could handle Damian’s wit which was something his father would like to see. He could picture you smiling, holding back your own remarks. The idea of you sitting beside him at the long dining table, sharing their traditions, made his chest feel warm in a way he wasn’t used to.
That night, he sent you a message.
> Are you free on Christmas Eve?
Your response came in quickly, as it always did. Bruce’s heart thumped against the bones of his ribs.
> I am. Why?
He hesitated for a bit, overthinking his decision.
> I’d like you to join me for dinner. It’s a family thing but I’d really like for you to be there.
> Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.
> You wouldn’t be intruding.
Bruce could picture the light frown between your brows and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. You often did it unconsciously, never knowing how pretty you looked this way. But even as he pictured your face, a part of him was growing more nervous about the situation. Would you agree to an event this serious? Spend Christmas with him. And his family. Or were you coming up with excuses right now? He wouldn’t blame you.
> Then I’d love to come.
His heart skipped a beat and that night, Bruce went to bed feeling a little lighter than he usually did.
Snow blanketed the long driveway leading up to Wayne Manor and for once, Bruce wasn’t thinking about the pressure of Batman or the chaos the boys would definitely stir up tonight. His attention was entirely focused on the one making your way towards him. He stood just outside the grand entrance, dressed in a dark, perfectly tailored suit that fit him like a glove. The soft crunch of tires on the white powder alerted him to your arrival, and as your car pulled up, Bruce started to feel the nervousness. He adjusted his tie with a single hand.
When you stepped out, his breath caught.
You were breathtakingly beautiful. Dressed in an inky black that hugged your figure in all the right places, the fabric shimmered under the outdoor lights of the mansion. The smile you gave him when your eyes met melted all the nerves that had been harboring in his system. He was finally calm and composed, for what seemed like the first time in the evening.
“You’re early,” Bruce pointed out softly when you walked up the stairs to meet him in front of the door, and his eyes sparkled with little stars at the sight of you. How did he get so lucky? “You look stunning, by the way.”
“I didn’t want to keep you waiting. And thank you. You clean up well, too, Bruce.”
Your gaze held a playful edge in it as you accepted his hand, locking your palm around his bulging biceps and squeezing warmly. The touch added the missing piece of the puzzle Bruce was trying to solve while his cheeks warmed a rosy pink under your influence without any hesitation. The gesture felt natural, like it always belonged there.
The two of you approached the doors of the manor in a shared silence, although it didn’t feel a bit awkward. You took a moment to take in the place. It was like something out of your childhood dreams — tall, arched windows glowing with the soft light of a dozen garlands lining the entryway. The faint hum of holiday music and the occasional sound of laughter echoed through the manor.
It was Bruce’s home.
“Do you always go this big for Christmas?” you voiced a question that's been sitting on your mind since the moment you saw the large Christmas tree from the entryway to Bruce’s living room. Decorated with lots of ornaments, it looked lovely, accompanied by a heap of presents.
“Alfred insists,” admitting with a soft chuckle, Bruce rubbed the nape of his neck as he led you deeper into his home. “And the boys like the holidays. I want them to have the best.”
The scent of pine and cinnamon enveloped your senses the further you moved. The sounds grew louder, too. You awe made him feel lighter somehow. The dining room at Wayne Manor was nothing short of spectacular this night, with the long mahogany table adorned with a dozen of flickering candles and plates of food that looked like it belonged in a holiday spread for a cookbook.
You were sitting beside Bruce (he kind of insisted anyway), your hand occasionally brushing against his. He helped you settle into the chair which earned a teasing glance from Dick. Speaking of his oldest son, he was sitting across from you with an easy grin that told you some questions would come your way sooner or later. Tim was at Dick’s right, while Damian occupied the chair from the other side of his father.
The evening was more than successful in your opinion. Steph asked you about your favorite literature, while Tim quizzed you on trivia about Gotham (which you surprisingly got all right). Damian, after much persistence from Dick, shared a story about his latest art project, though he kept glancing at you as if trying to gauge your reaction.
Through it all, Bruce remained by your side.
When the night finally came to an end, and everyone drifted to their own space of the manor, Bruce walked you to the entrance with a gentle hand against the small of your back.
“Thank you,” his gaze met yours as he handed you your coat, effortlessly helping you slip your arms into the sleeves. “For coming tonight. For putting up with them.”
You gifted him with the most precious kind of a present; your smile, smaller hands reaching up to adjust the collar of his dark suit. “Of course. They’re wonderful, Bruce. I enjoyed myself tonight.”
For a man who othen found himself at loss for words when it came to talking in emotions, Bruce found himself smiling softly with his heart feeling lighter than it had in years. Because for the first time, Christmas didn’t feel like an obligation. It felt like a new beginning.
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