#and i flopped and didn’t take screenshots

[bonsaibudz]

second date went very very well (with maybe the exception that he's starting to be a little *too* frat boy for her..) with a teeny tiny surprise below the cut that explains pic 2

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um so a little secret random genuinely unexpected hookup maybe occurred while she was out on the date.. don't look at me i didn't do anything i absolutely made all the decisions :)

[malsmind]

ok would hacker matt ever grow the beard?

oh yes he would.

⤷ eating pussy. slight edging. dirty talk. pet names. unprotected sex. creampie. matt’s sexy ass beard.

it was…unusual. especially for matt. you were away with your family on holiday during a college break, so you haven’t seen matt for at least a few weeks. he definitely has seen you. of course he has. with knowing that he was watching, you even set your phone up for him, all nice, and angling just perfect so he can watch, so he knows that you know.

but when you came back, when matt was already waiting for you on the parking lot infront of your dorm complex, and he looked…very different. not bad different, but…different. he stood up straight from being leaned against his car, walking towards you with a smile.

“hey.” he greeted softly, going to pull you into a hug, but you stopped him.

your hand was up infront of his chest, keeping him from stepping closer as your eyes roamed over his face—his facial hair—with a slight frown on your face.

“what’s all this?” you asked, finger swirling in the air, pointing the the outgrown beard that sat there.

“what?” matt asked, returning the same frown you were sending his way, his fingers ruffling trough the fine hairs on his face.

it wasn’t anything unusual, not normally, but for matt, it was. he’s always kept his beard trimmed, maybe letting it grow out to a certain point, but never this much. you took a step closer, closing the distance between you two to give him a kiss. after all, you hadn’t seen your boyfriend in weeks. he kissed you back. still confused, but never turning down the feeling of your soft lips on his. when you pulled back to look at him again, your face kept the same expression.

“feels weird with that full thing on your face. scratching the fuck outta me.” you mumbled, bending down to grab your bags and starting to walk your way to the entrance of your dorm building.

matt stopped you, taking the heavier bag right out of your hands before following you towards the door. “you don’t like it?”

you didn’t answer his question until your keys turned, unlocking the door. “it’s not bad.” you shrugged, continuing to make your way to the dorm room you’d surprisingly missed a lot while being on holiday.

when you finally put your handbag down, kicking your shoes off and throwing your jacket over the chair, your body flopped down on the bed. you sighed, relaxing into the mattress as you watched matt put the big duffle bag loaded with your clothes down on the floor next to your bed. he sat down beside you on the bed, taking his shoes off before laying down with you. the both of you laid there in a comfortable silence for a moment, your body stretching to relieve some tension in your muscles from the long car ride. when you turned to lay on your side, matt was already looking at you, his usual empty expression making your heart skip a beat.

when he used to look at you like that before you had admitted your feelings to each other, it would make you feel disappointed sometimes. because, even though he kept entertaining the game you played, making his own rules and starting to fire back, you were almost one hundred percent certain that he had no interest in you. but now—now it had a different meaning. there was something behind that cold gaze, something that made your breath catch in your throat. you knew he loved you. and that’s what mattered now.

“i missed you.” you whispered, fingers grazing his hand.

he didn’t say it back, didn’t have to. you knew he’d missed you too. the screenshots you couldn’t resist taking when he texted you how he wished you were here with him were more than enough. he moved his hand when your fingertips brushed over it, placing it on top of yours, interlocking your fingers with his own.

“do you want me to shave the beard?”

the question caught you off guard. he sounded almost…insecure? maybe. maybe you just caught it the wrong way. either way, you shook your head no. it did look incredibly attractive on him.

you couldn’t help the way your mind played with the little thoughts of just how beneficial this beard could be. without another word, you closed the space between you two, pressing your lips to his in a slow, testing kiss. the feeling of his beard scratching your cheeks and chin was new, but not unpleasant. for whatever reason, it seemed to make it more intense.

his lips moved with yours in that quiet, steady way you hadn’t realized you missed so much until now. there was no rush—just the slow, building heat that came with being apart too long. your fingers crept up to his jaw, grazing the scratchy texture of his beard again, and this time, you didn’t hide the shiver it sent down your spine. matt felt it. you knew he did.

he pulled back slightly, eyes narrowing just a little, reading you like he always did when things started getting heavy. “you like it,” he said lowly, not a question—an observation, one laced with quiet amusement.

you didn’t answer right away. just looked at him, pupils already blown wider, your breathing picking up. then you nodded, slowly. “it feels… different. good.”

that was all he needed.

he shifted his body lower without a word, pressing a lingering kiss to your stomach before tugging down your pants and underwear in one fluid motion. he didn’t say anything, but you caught the twitch at the corner of his mouth when he noticed just how wet you already were. his beard brushed your inner thigh as he kissed it, soft at first, then rougher as he moved closer to where you needed him most. the first swipe of his tongue made your back arch off the bed—but it was the burn of the coarse hair dragging across your sensitive skin that made you moan, your fingers tightening around the sheets.

“fuck, matt…” you breathed out, your legs twitching slightly from how overstimulating it already was.

he didn’t respond, didn’t stop—he doubled down, eating you out with a purpose, tongue firm and steady, beard rubbing mercilessly with every movement of his mouth. the friction was overwhelming in the best way. maddening. he was soaking it in—your reaction, the way your hips pushed into his face, your fists tightening in the sheets.

you were close. embarrassingly close. your thighs were trembling, and your stomach clenched tight as the orgasm built fast, all-consuming.

“don’t stop,” you begged, voice breaking around the edges. “don’t—”

but he did.

he pulled back suddenly, lips glistening, chest heaving slightly, and that cold look was back—but now it was charged, feral, barely restrained. your eyes met his, lips parted, heart racing, and you were about to curse him out until he pushed up, pulling his hoodie off and leaning over you in one smooth motion.

“turn over,” he said, his voice rough, already undoing his jeans.

you didn’t argue. didn’t need to. you shifted onto your stomach, bracing your arms against the mattress. he climbed over you, fitting himself behind you like it was second nature—because it was now. it always had been. he lined himself up, slid in slow but deep, and groaned against your neck the moment he bottomed out. his beard scratched at your skin again, but this time at a different angle—along the base of your neck, your shoulder, your jaw as he moved. he kept his face there the entire time, buried against your skin, breathing hard, whispering things you couldn’t fully make out through the haze of sensation. his thrusts were slow at first—dragging, drawn out—like he wanted to make you feel every inch of him, every inch of what you’d both missed while you were gone.

“missed you,” he mumbled against your skin, lips brushing the spot just beneath your ear.

you clenched around him hard at the sound of it, overwhelmed with the heat, the intensity, the intimacy of it all. his beard scratched you again as he pressed kisses along your jaw. you weren’t even fully thinking when you said it, the words spilling out between soft gasps and sharp breaths. you just couldn’t help yourself.

“so you missed me, huh?” you mumbled into the pillow, voice laced with a kind of teasing that only came when you felt like you had the upper hand. “actually said it out loud this time.”

for half a second, you swore matt stilled. just barely. his breath hot against your skin. you could almost hear the shift in his head—how your tone flipped something inside him. how that tiny bit of cockiness in your voice was exactly the wrong move if you wanted to keep things gentle.

because then he moved.

deeper. harder. without warning.

your mouth fell open in a choked moan, your whole body jolting forward from the force of it. “matt—” you gasped, trying to catch your breath, but he didn’t let up.

“say it again,” he said low against your ear, voice suddenly sharp and dangerous in that way that always made your stomach flip. his pace didn’t slow, not even a little. if anything, it got rougher, more deliberate. punishing.

you tried to hold on—your pride, your breath, your voice—but all of it crumbled when he fucked you into the mattress like that. relentless. every drag of his hips bruising, every thrust pulling a wrecked sound from your throat.

“thought so,” he scoffed, beard scratching your neck as he kissed your shoulder again—messy and hot, lips dragging open across sweat-slick skin. “all that attitude… n’ you can’t even fuckin’ answer.”

your fingers clawed at the sheets, legs trembling from how fast everything unraveled. any thoughts of control, of teasing him, of being smug? gone. completely gone.

he had you—right where he always wanted you. and you didn’t even want to fight it anymore. you didn’t even realize you’d started shaking until matt slowed down, until the rhythm turned from harsh and rough into something deliberate, coaxing. his hand found yours, fingers threading tight like he was anchoring you—like he needed you just as much.

“y’wanna come f’me, baby?” he whispered against your skin, his other hand reaching around to toy with your clit.

your body jerked back into his when his fingertips started rubbing tight, slow circles on the sensitive nub. “please..”

your little whimper made him double his efforts. but not in a rough way. he held you trough it, talked you trough it. his lips placing soft, comforting kisses along your shoulder as your orgasm washed over you, legs fighting not to give out. matt was quick to follow, burying his face in your neck. his groan—desperate from how long it’s been since he had you like this—send a shiver up your spine.

your breath hitched against the pillow as he filled you up. the room felt too quiet now, save for the sound of your breathing, the quiet thump of your heartbeat in your ears. he didn’t speak, didn’t pull away either. just stayed like that—his body pressed to yours, face buried in the back your neck, beard still scratching faintly against your skin with every breath he took. you thought maybe that was it. the quiet end to something chaotic. but then he mumbled, so softly you almost missed it.

“i don’t just miss you when you’re gone.”

you blinked, his words sinking in like a slow burn through your chest. you turned your head slightly, catching the profile of his face against your skin—soft, honest in a way you didn’t expect. he pulled out gently, arms still around you as he rolled to his side, keeping you close like he wasn’t ready to let go. you didn’t push him away. didn’t say anything right away either.

just lay there, still flushed and wrecked, your fingers brushing lightly across the curve of his shoulder.

“i know,” you whispered after a moment. “you don’t really hide it well anymore.”

matt huffed something between a scoff and a laugh, but it was tired. content. the kind of sound that only happened when his walls finally slipped. and they had—at least a little.

you curled in closer, letting your body melt into his, eyes drifting closed against the thrum of his heartbeat. you could think about the chaos later. the hacking, the watching, the lines you both blurred to get here. but for now—this moment?

you were his.

and he was yours.

dividers by @bernardsbendystraws

[amyzworldds]

Title: Long Hair, Don’t Care

During Seventeen’s Right Here World Tour, Dino’s decision to grow out his hair—thanks to his girlfriend's endless praise—sparks a fan frenzy. Pairing: Dino x reader Genre: Fluff, humor

The Right Here World Tour had Seventeen dominating stages worldwide, and Dino—your unfairly charming boyfriend—was having a moment. It all started when he decided to skip the haircuts after you’d raved about his longer locks at the tour’s start in Seoul. “It suits you so well,” you’d said, twirling a strand around your finger, and boom—Dino was hooked. No scissors dared come near him after that.

Now, months into the tour, his hair was long—like, poking-his-eyes, flipping-it-back-every-chorus long. You were smitten. Every time he brushed it off his face mid-performance, you’d catch yourself grinning like a total sap. And the fans? They were just as feral. Facebook and tiktok were a battlefield of Dino hype: grainy soundcheck pics, fan cams of him shaking out his bangs, captioned with pure chaos. “If not boyfriend, then why boyfriend shape?” one fan demanded. Another fired off, “If not boyfriend, stop being boyfriendable, I’m on my knees.” Someone even joked, “Dino’s hair is longer than my last relationship—hide the scissors!”

Then there were the conspiracy theories. Fans were dissecting his glow like it was a crime scene. “No way he’s this fine without a girlfriend,” one wrote under a dreamy selca. “That hair, that smile—someone’s loving him right, and it’s not just carats.” Another added, “He’s too boyfriendable to be single. I bet he’s got a secret lover keeping him that shiny.”

You, his very real and very proud girlfriend, were thriving. Your phone was a shrine to this long-haired Dino era—your gallery overflowing with fan-taken soundcheck pics you’d saved from social media. Before your nightly video call ritual, you couldn’t resist texting him a screenshot of your camera roll: rows of Dino mid-hair-flip, looking ethereal. “Babe,” you typed, “I think I need a new phone. My storage’s crying—512GB isn’t enough for all this boyfriend material.”

Minutes later, Dino replied from his hotel room fresh off stage: “You’re ridiculous. How many pics do you even have?!” You smirked, firing back, “Enough to crash my phone. Blame the fans—they’re feeding my obsession.”

When the video call finally connected, there he was—sprawled on his bed, hair a gorgeous mess, still buzzing from the show. “Babe,” you said, smirking at him through the screen as you propped your phone up. “Your fans are wild. My gallery’s a disaster because of you—soundcheck pics are taking over my life. And they’re saying stuff like, ‘If not boyfriend, then why boyfriend shape?’ I’m dying.”

Dino laughed, that bright, heart-melting laugh you lived for, running a hand through his bangs only for them to flop right back. “Boyfriend shape? What am I, a Ken doll?”

“Pretty much,” you teased. “They’re also onto you. They’re like, ‘He’s glowing too much, he’s got a girlfriend for sure.’ They’re sniffing me out!”

He grinned, leaning closer to the camera. “Well, they’re not wrong. I’ve got the best girlfriend hoarding pics of me like a stalker. And didn’t someone beg me to keep the hair long because it ‘suits me so well’?”

You gasped, clutching your chest. “Okay, rude, calling me a stalker when I’m just appreciating art! But yeah, I did say that… and now I’m regretting it because the fans are out here calling you boyfriendable, and I’m over here like, ‘Back off, that’s my boyfriend shape!’”

Dino smirked, tilting his head so his hair fell even more into his eyes. “Oh, now you’re jealous? You were all, ‘Baby, it’s so sexy, never cut it,’ and now I’m too boyfriendable for you?”

“Exactly!” you shot back, giggling. “I’ve created a monster. My phone’s dying, the fans are feral—I might have to sneak into one of your concerts with scissors and chop those bangs off so they stop making edits of you looking like a K-drama lead.”

He clutched his hair protectively. “Don’t you dare! You’re the reason I’m out here looking like a mop with a skincare routine. This is your fault, babe.”

“A mop?!” you cackled. “More like a shiny, boyfriend-shaped mop. They’re right—you’re too pretty to be single. Good thing I’ve got you locked down.”

“Locked down?” he teased, pushing his hair back again. “You’re the one filling your phone with my pics. I’m keeping this mess because you love it and the fans love it. I’m winning for Team Long Hair.”

You sighed dramatically. “Fine, you win. But when the tour’s over, I’m braiding it. Maybe slapping a bow on it. Gotta remind them who’s got the real claim.”

Dino chuckled, smiling as he shook his head. “Deal. But I’m only this boyfriendable because of you, you know that, right?”

You softened, smiling back at him. “And I’m only this obsessed because of you, you know that, right?”

“Touché,” he said, blowing you a kiss through the screen. “Love you, stalker.”

“Love you too, boyfriend shape,” you replied, winking.

-----------------------------------------------------------an: please, I can’t get over Dino’s long hair pics from sound check—it’ll be my cause of ☠️😭

[cmiru]

✦ VULPECULA. OR…various with a Foxian reader !

synopsis: general headcanons for them with a Foxian s/o :D words: 0.4k warnings/tags: none! / headcanons, fluff, general silliness, gn reader, reader bites in 2 out of 4 parts because i said so, this will flop and that is okay including: Aventurine, Sunday, March 7th, Tingyun

AVENTURINE thought you were part cat for the first two weeks. no, seriously. he spent fourteen days teasing you about laser pointers and going pspsps when he wanted your attention. it was actually only when you were offended by his gift of some chocolates that he realized your features were vulpine, not feline (…and that his well-intentioned gift was basically an offer to make you physically sick). in his defense, there aren’t many obvious visual differences between the two. anyway, good luck dealing with his “affections”; if you thought he was touchy before you gave him the go-ahead to pet you, you think he’s insufferable now. on the bright side, he doesn’t take it personally when you give him warning bites. truth be told, he enjoys them a little too much.

SUNDAY is by far the most respectful person on this list. he won’t touch your ears or tail without asking—for a while, at least. he might begin to give in to temptation once you let him know it’s fine to touch, though even then he’s gentle, just giving you a light stroke or pet every now and then. please initiate a similar form of affection towards his wings; he’s usually a bit too shy to ask you himself, but he enjoys the simple intimacy of it. note: if you’re careful enough with how you treat his wings, he might let you preen them, so it is advisable to not try to take one of his feathers as a souvenir.

to be completely honest, MARCH 7TH needs to be sedated. Dan Heng has to half-pry her off you most of the time because of her cuteness aggression—she means no harm, but there are times where she forgets you aren’t a stuffed animal and squishes your poor ears in the tightest surprise hug known to man. she definitely minds if you bite her in self-defense, but if it’s only a playful chomp she’s more than willing to risk returning it with one of her own. the type to hug your tail instead of you whenever you sleep together.

TINGYUN could not possibly be more thrilled to have a partner with Foxian features just like hers. speaking of, tail-care sessions are a must—Tingyun puts a lot of effort into taking care of her own tail, so of course she’s more than willing to help you take care of yours; you better believe she’s devoting a portion of her excess funds to combs and brushes as well as other products just for you. oh, and you know how real foxes use their tails for warmth? her new favorite sleeping position is whichever one lets you drape your tails over one another.

a/n: Aventurine’s bit might be a little confusing if you’re like me a week ago and didn’t know chocolate is apparently toxic to Foxians, so here’s a screenshot from the hsr wiki to help prove i am not making shit up. that being said, thank you for reading <3

[amirawrah]

⭐︎Fuck distance

with JOBE BELLINGHAM⭐︎REQUESTED BY ANON!

synopsis: Distance becomes a quiet test of love for the both of you but jobe doesn't care and neither do you.

The sun was low and golden, casting a warm filter over the Los Angeles skyline. You stood by the tall windows of your penthouse, overlooking the sprawl of the city you called home. A half-read script sat open on your coffee table, your reading glasses lazily discarded beside it. Rocky—your protective, spoiled German Shepherd—was stretched out by the kitchen island, snoozing in the comfort of late afternoon peace. You had the weekend off from set, the first in weeks, and though you’d promised yourself rest, the ache in your chest said otherwise. You missed Jobe.

Time zones were cruel. Being in different countries with different demands—him with football, you with films—meant even your best days sometimes ended in longing. FaceTimes, voice notes, blurry screenshots of calls during makeup touch-ups, good morning texts that came in your night—it was all sweet but never enough.

You’d tried to shake it. Tried to lean into the silence, the calm of your place, the quiet power of being alone and accomplished. But when Rocky lifted his head and let out a soft woof, your heart jumped with something like hope.

Footsteps.

What?

You moved slowly toward the door, barefoot and unsure, peeking through the peephole. But there wasn’t anyone—

Then a soft knock.

Rocky stood up immediately, tail starting to wag, protective instincts surprisingly calm. He knew that knock. You knew it too.

You opened the door, and there he was.

Jobe. In a hoodie and joggers, curls covered with a cap, duffle bag slung over his shoulder, passport barely tucked into his hand. His smile was sleepy and boyish, like he hadn't even rested since his flight. “Hi,” he said softly.

Your brain short-circuited for a full three seconds. “Wait—what? What are you—”

He dropped the bag with a thud and wrapped his arms around you, burying his face in your shoulder. You melted instantly. He smelled like travel and cologne, exhaustion and warmth. “Couldn’t wait anymore,” he mumbled. “Told them I needed four days. Didn’t even tell you—I wanted to see your face when you opened the door.”

“Jobe—” You pulled back just enough to look at him. His eyes were glassy, his mouth curved in that crooked, irresistible way. “You flew all the way here?”

He shrugged, eyes on you like nothing else mattered. “My girl's too far away, couldn’t do it anymore.”

Rocky whined between you, tail wagging harder now. Jobe knelt, ruffling the dog’s fur, smiling at the way Rocky immediately pawed his chest like he belonged to both of you. “Missed you too.”

You were blinking rapidly, half from surprise, half from the rush of happiness flooding your chest. “You’re insane,” you whispered, laughing. “Insane and perfect.”

“You missed me?”

You stared. “Don’t start.”

He stood again, this time taking your face in his hands. His thumbs brushed your cheeks like he hadn’t touched you in years. “Then come here.”

The kiss was soft. Slow. A reunion. You felt it in your ribs, in the curl of your toes, in the silence behind your closed eyes. You didn’t realize how much your body had ached for him until he pressed into you, arms strong and sure, lips moving like an apology and a promise.

When you finally pulled back, you were breathless. “I should punch you for not warning me.”

“I should’ve recorded your reaction.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, dragging him inside.

He followed easily, taking in your penthouse like it was the first time—even though he’d been here months ago. “It looks more lived in now.”

“Well, that’s what happens when you’re stuck on set twelve hours a day. Mess happens.”

He kicked off his shoes and flopped onto your cloud of a couch, arms out, legs spread, like he belonged there—which he did. Rocky climbed up beside him instantly, head resting in Jobe’s lap. “This dog loves me more than you.”

“I wouldn’t test that theory,” you said, pouring him water in the kitchen.

Jobe watched you, eyes never leaving your body. “Still can’t believe I’m here.”

“You better believe it. I’m making you dinner now that you’ve broken into my weekend.”

“Oh yeah?” he grinned, sitting up. “You cook now?”

You raised an eyebrow. “I’ve always cooked.”

“You warmed leftovers last time I was here.”

You laughed, tossing a kitchen towel at him. “You want dinner or not?”

He stood, crossed the space in seconds, and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind. “I just want to be close to you.”

You leaned into him, cheek resting on his shoulder. “You already are.”

That night, you made grilled chicken and roasted vegetables while Jobe chopped terribly but insisted on helping. You danced in the kitchen to a playlist you’d both made, socks on and laughing while Rocky barked at your awful attempts at synchronised spins. He told you about training, the team, how much he hated hotel beds without you in them. You showed him your upcoming projects, ranted about your costar’s weird breath work obsession, and told him how boring press was without him teasing you in the car after.

Dinner turned into dessert—ice cream on the couch while you curled into each other under a blanket. The lights were low, the windows wide, the city outside twinkling like it knew love was blooming again inside your walls.

At one point, Jobe shifted so he was lying with his head in your lap, looking up at you like he hadn’t seen a better view all year. “You’re still the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.”

You brushed your fingers through his curls. “You’re still the most dramatic.”

“I mean it.” His voice dropped. “You do all this. You act. You memorise lines and look good on carpets and take care of Rocky. And you’re mine.”

You tilted your head. “Of course I’m yours.”

He reached up, fingertips grazing your cheek. “Sometimes I think about you in these huge rooms. All that attention. All those lights. And it hits me—you could’ve had anyone. But you chose me.”

You smiled, heart tightening. “I didn’t choose you by accident, Jobe.”

He sat up then, kissed you again, soft and slow. “Don’t make me cry in your expensive apartment.”

You giggled, pulling him close again. “Cry, please.”

“Shut up,” he murmured into your neck, voice trembling with love.

You fell asleep together that night on the couch, Rocky curled at your feet, the TV playing some rerun neither of you were watching. His hand stayed on your waist, yours tucked under his hoodie, breathing in sync, miles and fame and distance forgotten in the quiet of your shared space.

In the morning, you woke up first, only because Rocky climbed onto the couch and nudged your leg like he wanted to go out. But even then, you didn’t move—because Jobe shifted in his sleep, clinging to your side like instinct. You looked down at him—hair a bit messy, mouth parted, hoodie twisted—and felt a calm settle over your chest.

He’d flown across an ocean just to see you. Just to remind you that home wasn’t a place. It was him.

You let Rocky wait just a little longer. You weren’t ready to give up this moment.

Jobe stirred slowly, his breath warm against your collarbone as he blinked up at you, still halfway in a dream. His fingers flexed at your waist like he needed to make sure you were really there.

“Morning,” he rasped, voice low and still laced with sleep.

“Morning,” you whispered, brushing a hand through his curls. “You didn’t even flinch when Rocky jumped up.”

“I’m still jet-lagged,” he mumbled, nuzzling into your side. “Also knew he wouldn’t bite me. I’ve been accepted.”

You laughed under your breath, feeling his arms pull you in tighter. His body curled around yours like he hadn’t seen you in years, not just months. Like he had to memorise your shape all over again.

Jobe pressed a kiss to your shoulder, then another, slower this time. His lips lingered, and so did the hand now sliding from your waist up your spine in a gentle drag. You turned toward him slightly, and the sleepy glint in his eyes softened into something deeper—quiet, intense, warm.

“I missed you,” he murmured against your skin, like a confession he’d been holding in all night.

You reached for his face, cupping his jaw with your thumb stroking just beneath his cheekbone. “Missed you too.”

Neither of you moved for a long moment, just breathing in the hush of the early morning light. But then he kissed you—soft, like he was easing back into the rhythm of you. And you kissed him back just the same, slow and lingering, mouths brushing like you had all the time in the world.

Jobe shifted over you, hoodie sliding up slightly as he pressed a hand to your side, grounding himself there. His body was warm and solid against yours, and he tucked his head into the crook of your neck like it was the only place he wanted to be.

“I forgot how good this feels,” he said, voice muffled against your skin.

“You mean cuddling?” you teased gently, running your fingers through his curls again.

“No,” he said, pulling back to look you in the eye. “Not cuddling.”

There was something raw in his expression, something stripped of bravado or playfulness. Just love—open and quiet and real. He leaned in again, kissing you deeper this time, thumb brushing beneath your shirt, not with urgency but familiarity. The kind of touch that asked, Do you feel this too?

You did.

You shifted under him, letting your leg hook around his, drawing him closer as your bodies molded together like second nature. Everything was slow, tender, like the two of you were relearning each other with every kiss, every sigh, every hand that moved under cotton and over skin.

And when you finally laid there afterward, tangled in limbs and soft breathing, Jobe pressed his forehead to yours, brushing your cheek with his thumb.

“Next time I come here,” he whispered, “I won't leave so soon.”

You smiled, still catching your breath. “Next time, don’t wait so long.”

He kissed your forehead. “Deal.”

From the hallway, Rocky gave an impatient little bark like he’d waited long enough. Jobe groaned into your neck. “You think he’ll let us go back to sleep if I feed him?”

You laughed softly. “He might if you throw in a belly rub.”

“I’m not above bribery,” Jobe said, sitting up and pulling you with him, his hand never leaving yours. “Not if it means I get to come back to bed with you.”

You leaned into him with a smile. “Then feed the dog, Bellingham.”

He grinned, tugging you into a kiss before heading off, hoodie slipping off one shoulder, smile soft and easy. And you watched him go, heart full—because even across oceans and time zones, he still knew exactly how to come home to you.

[base0h]

NOT SAYING I LOVE YOU BACK TO HAIKYUU CHARACTERS

a/n - I feel like someone requested this with Osamu, nishinoya, ushijima, and tendou a while ago and it got deleted??? Sorry anon 😭🙏 bro writing this made me feel lonely. 💀

Warnings ⚠️ - g/n reader, s/o reader

- bold of you to assume bro would let you do this

- well for this let’s just say he did

- you saw this TikTok about this prank where one person didn’t say I love you back to their partners, and you thought it’d be funny to try it on Osamu

- Osamu was getting ready to head to a late practice, getting his bag and shoes to leave your room

- you were doing some homework, so he gave you a hug from behind and pecked your cheek

- “Love ya, goin to practice now.” -Osamu

- “Ok be safe, bye Samu.” -you

- you said that with a smile, going back to your homework, acting as if nothing was wrong

- Osamu nodded, closing the door behind him, his footsteps receding, but then suddenly they stopped

- you had to struggle not to snicker at the sudden stop of his footsteps

- then you heard him coming back and you swore you almost let out a laugh, swallowing it quickly as he opened the door again

- “Y/n. I love you—“

- “Huh? Yeah I know Samu, be safe and good luck at practice.”

- he looked at you like you were Atsumu, squinting as he put a hand on his hip, shifting his weight to one foot like he was posing to be in a magazine when in reality he was just confused and a bit irritated

- “…What did I do??”

- “You didn’t do anything what do you mean??”

- “Yer makin’ me look desperate here— I love you—“

- “…Yeah i know???”

- “Y/N.”

- “Osamu???”

- “Wh— don’t use my full name! What the hell did I do???”

- you couldn’t take it anymore, you laughed, covering your face as you struggled to catch your breath

- meanwhile osamu’s looking at you in the doorway with his hand still on his hip like a pissed off Karen that wants to speak to the manager (if he had a weapon it’d be a frying pan)

literally Osamu ^^

- oh my god his face was priceless, you wished you’d taken a real photo rather than a mental screenshot so you could show Suna

- “I’m sorry samu it was a prank. I love you too.”

- “…..I ain’t making ya dinner.”

- “NO PLEASE I’M SORRY—“

- yeah bros done with you

- he was all worried for nothing 😭

- he thought he did something wrong but no you just wanted to bullshit him

- he still made you dinner btw

- he like gave you a plate without saying anything and eating in the other room but he still gave it to you (he’s petty)

- basically an Asian parent 💀

- nishinoya probably says ‘I love you’ about 100000000000000+ times and counting, per day

- and he lives for hearing you say it back to him

- he still gets giddy when he hears you say it

- “Y/n I love you!!” -Nishinoya

- “Love you too noya :)” -you

- “…..RYUUUUUUUU Y/N SAID THEY LOVED ME!!”

- “THEY SAY THAT EVERY DAY NISHINOYA SHUT UP STOP MAKING ME FEEL MORE SINGLE—“ -Tanaka shouted whilst sobbing in the corner (dw Tanaka you end up marrying the love of your life)

- you saw this prank on TikTok and obviously you wanted to try it on your eccentric boyfriend

- but you did feel SLIGHTLY bad about what his reaction might be since you were well aware that he loved hearing you say it back

- but you’re mean so 🤷 (Jkjk you’re awesome just pretend you’re mean for this pls🙏💀)

- Nishinoya was about to go to class, giving you one last bear hug before he went as usual

- “Are you sure we gotta go to class? I like you better than math :(“

- “Yes noya— you have to graduate high school remember?”

- “Ok fineee— I’ll see you after class then??”

- “Mhm.”

- “Ok love you y/n!!”

- “Ok— don’t fall asleep in class ok? See ya later.”

- the fact that the silence was so loud that even kiyoko who was walking by was like: 🫢

- Tanaka’s jaw was on the FLOOR

- Daichi probably verbally said “ohhhhh snap 😬” with that exact face

- Nishinoya was frozen, and all of the sudden he just flopped off of you, still holding his hug position, and just like died on the floor in a dead bug looking position

- you legit could not tell if he was breathing or not 😭

- you killed him

- good job y/n, you killed the guardian deity of karasuno

- Nishinoya literally passed out cold from pure despair because he didn’t hear you say it back, and therefore in his mind that equaled you didn’t love him and were breaking up with him and the world was ending and aliens were gonna invade earth (bro what? 💀)

- he woke up with his head in your lap, resting on your thighs— and he woke up with like zero memory and woke up as high as a kite too

- he was giggling like an idiot, spouting random nonsense and corny shit, going from flirty and sobbing his eyes out back and forth 😭

- “Am I in heaven? Cuz you look like an angel, angel 😏”

- “Thank you goddd— for blessing me with this gorgeous gift— 😭😭😭😭”

- he forgot about the prank btw

- hit his head way too hard on his way down and woke up on his favorite pillow so yep everything turned out semi ok 👍

- hey may or may not have permanent brain damage! 😄

- daichi aged 10 years after this incident by the way

- I feel like tendou says I love you all the time, but whenever you say it back he’s always a bit surprised

- he’s heard you say it a bunch of times by now but he’s still just a tad shocked everytime

- like he’s genuinely surprised you actually love him back 😭

- the first time you said it back bro cried 🥲

- he would NOT stop talking to ushijima about it, he kept gushing about how perfect you were and how he doesn’t deserve you and meanwhile ushijima is sitting there like: 🧍‍♂️

- funny part is that ushijima’s genuinely trying to listen to his friend but bro just doesn’t get it 💀

- you saw this prank on TikTok that seemed funny, you two always kinda went back and forth playing little jokes on each other

- last time he got you by putting a huge ass fake spider on the ceiling of your room so when you walked in he pulled a string and it jumped out and hit your face

- you did not talk to bro for days

- I wouldn’t either man 😭

- so now it was time to get him back

- he was getting ready to leave for a late practice, and he bounded over to you from behind your work chair as you were reading the shonen jump he had lent you

- “Ok I’m goin to practice I’ll see ya later y/n—“ -tendou

- “Ok bye tendou, have a good practice. Don’t piss off Semi too much—“ -you

- “Oh come on I don’t piss him off! Semi is my bestie he can confirm!”

- “I honestly don’t think you could pay semi an amount that would make him call you his ‘bestie’”

- “I can work miracles! Ok— bye y/n I love youuuuu—“

- “Bye tendou, good luck with working that miracle.“

- He paused, his lanky arms dropping down to his sides as he thought for a second

- did you not say it back or was he just going deaf?

- he did that thing yk where you like tilt your head to the side in confusion— and his hair like drooped down a bit 😭

- “…I love you—“

- “I know tendou, have a good practice!”

- he’s scared, genuinely terrified

- he’s running through his mind trying to think of why you didn’t say it back— did you think he was annoying?? Was he being too loud? Did you actually just not say it because you didn’t love him anymore?

- he wanted to ask what was wrong but he thought maybe he was being annoying so he just left to give you space 😭

- you felt awful

- he looked so confused and hurt before he left

- tendou went to ushijima for advice and to just talk about it— he’s probably the worst person to talk to about this stuff bc bro literally thinks the earth is flat but whatever

- “…..That’s rough buddy.” -ushijima whilst awkwardly patting tendou’s shoulder

- “…Was that an avatar reference?” -tendou

- “Hm? What is an ‘avatar’?”

- “Nevermind. Thanks for trying.”

- you felt so bad— so when he was just in his room doing homework, you came in and immediately gave him a hug, apologizing and saying I love you to him over and over

- he was confused but happy to hear you say it back— he was SWEATIN bro 😭

- “I thought I was being annoying—“

- “Oh no tendou it was just a prank—“

- “….Wait was this payback for the spider?”

- “…..Yeah.”

- “…Ok I kinda deserved that then.”

- “Love you tendou, I promise you’re not annoying.”

- “Love you too y/n :)”

……

- “….Don’t you dare even think about pranking me with a spider again.”

- “I won’t make any promises that I can’t keep 😄”

- if there’s one thing he always remembers to do it’s to say ‘I love you’ before he leaves or before you go to sleep

- he doesn’t talk much but he never fails to say it to you

- even if he pretty much doesn’t talk the whole day, his few words will be those practiced words that have now been engrained into his mind

- you saw a prank video on instagram and thought it would be interesting to try it on ushijima, you honestly weren’t sure how he’d react

- he was getting ready to leave for practice, coming up from behind you as you worked on some assignments, giving you a quick one armed hug since his other arm was full carrying his stuff

- “I’ll be back tonight, goodbye y/n, I love you.” -ushijima

- “Ok, have a good practice.” -you

- he waited a minute, since usually he heard you say it back— but no you went right back to doing your work

- he assumed that maybe you were very absorbed and busy with your assignments and studies, which he understood and wanted to respect your work time

- so he left without another word, not wanting to disturb you

- but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t care about the fact that you didn’t say it back to him

- he was so accustomed to you saying those three words back to him or to him directly, maybe he’d taken it for granted? Because now without hearing them, he felt— wrong

- he wasn’t greatly disturbed, but he wasn’t normal either

- he thought about it a couple times during breaks in practice, wondering if he did something to make you distant or frustrated with him

- after practice was over, he came back, seeing you still doing your work like when he left, and he tried to be as quiet as possible to not bother you in case that was the reason behind why you didn’t say it back

- dude he was trying so hard to figure out what to do 😭

- he called tendou because he thought either tendou was the expert on these things or semi, and semi did NOT pick up 💀 (idk why but I feel like semi never answers his phone, not even on purpose, but like his ringer doesn’t work or some shit and he’s sitting there wondering why no one texts him or calls him)

- “Uhhhh…. Good luck Wakatoshi-kun!” -tendou

- “Is the situation that bleak?? I require your best wishes..? Tendou is this serious?” (Poor guy is sweating now 💀)

- “Well it’s either ‘damn well— good luck’ or it’s a prank! I’ve seen people do a prank on their partners where they don’t say ‘I love you’ back.” (tendou’s chronically online there isn’t a meme or prank trend bro hasn’t seen)

- “…..I see. How do I know which one it is?”

- “…..Good luck with that!”

- some help you are tendou 💀

- ushijima is not good at being subtle, so he just blatantly asked you— after you were going to take a break from your work

- “Y/n, did I do something to make you distant? Or was this a prank? Tendou told me about a certain trending prank partners do to their significant others, and—“ (he was talking the most you’ve ever heard him speak because bro was nervous actually despite looking normal)

- “I’m sorry Ushijima it was a prank yeah— I love you too ok?”

- he felt his shoulders relax when he finally heard you say it with that familiar smile that melted his heart

- ever since that prank you did— he’s said it more often

- he has a routine now, instead of just when he leaves or when he goes to sleep, he texts you in the morning, or says it to you if you’re there with him

- he says it whenever you say you text him or say over the phone you have to go do something

- he says it when you get back or when he gets back

- he says it a lot let’s just put it that way :)

- also semi was so betrayed that ushijima asked tendou for advice and not him later on 🥲

- “You asked TENDOU first?! Of all people?! You would’ve had better luck with goshiki!” -semi

- “Huh what?! I heard my name! Did someone call me?!” -goshiki appearing out of nowhere anytime someone says anything starting with “go”

- “BRO HOW DID YOU MATERIALIZE?!”

- “BAHAHAHAHAHAHDHDHEUHDUD—“ -tendou having an asthma attack from laughing

- “Apologies Semi, you did not pick up your phone. And from what I recall, you’ve never been in a relationship before, correct?” -ushijima

- bye bye semi’s self esteem 💀 tendou was about to cry and turn blue from laughing so hard, slapping his knee, cackling, shaking semi by his shoulders and giggling like a little shit

- ushijima is BRUTAL bro 🥲

a/n - semi got violated, a moment of silence for him 😔🙏

[themdera]

George Clarke replied to your story.

2,172 words. Green circle. Red Circle. what’s the difference?

It all started a few weeks ago when George had posted a random Instagram Story asking fans to add him to their close friends lists so he could rank them for a YouTube video—“best, funniest, cringiest, whatever,” he’d promised with that ridiculous smile. Your group chat had of course collectively lost their minds.

“Oh my God, we have to do this,” someone had declared, already tagging him in a story.

You’d rolled your eyes at first. Sure, George was funny, creative, and admittedly attractive, but you weren’t about to feed his ego by crafting some elaborate story just for his amusement. Still, in the chaos of everyone else freaking out, you’d ended up adding him anyway. Not to make the cut for his video—you didn’t post anything remotely funny or interesting enough—but just to shut the groupchat up. And honestly, you forgot to remove him after.

Then came the thirst trap.

It wasn’t even planned. You’d been bored, playing around with some poses, when your friends dared you to post something from the many photos you’d sent them, a simple selfie where the light hits your face and hair in the perfect way, just to mess with people. It had been a joke, like everything else on your close friends, and you’d captioned it, “This one’s for just you ;)” to really sell the bit.

No one actually expected him to see it.

But George Clarke, the man with an unbelievably high screen time, saw everything. The notification came in mere minutes after you posted it. GeorgeClarkeey replied to your story

“Me?” one word. That was all it took.

“Girls” You typed very quickly

Cue the group chat imploding.

“WHAT DID YOU DO?!” your friend types back know the message “Girls” meant something had happened.

“George replied to my story”

“HE WHAT?”

“He’s going to think it’s serious.”

“Can we talk about how he responded in record time???”

“He’s going to make this a thing. I feel it in my soul.”

The replies came in at record speed. Sure enough, George wasn’t done yet.

Another message popped up while you were still processing the first: “Wait. That was for me, right? Like… actually?”

You groaned, tossing your phone onto your bed. What the hell was going on? George Clarke had a talent for this shit, and now you were directly in the middle of it. Of course it wasn’t specifically for him. It was a joke, a dumb joke fueled by group chat dares and late-night boredom. But now George Clarke was in your DMs, actually engaging, and you had no idea how to navigate this.

You sat down on your bed , unlocking your phone to stare at his messages through your notifications like they might explode if you opened them. What the hell were you supposed to say to that?

“Me?”

“Wait. That was for me, right? Like… actually?”

It wasn’t for him. Not really. But at the same time, it wasn’t not for him, and there was no universe in which you could explain that without sounding ridiculous.

Your phone buzzed again.

“Take your time, I’ll just sit here wondering 😏.”

You groaned, throwing your head back. Why was he like this? Why couldn’t he just scroll past like a normal person? Better yet, why did you still have him on your close friends list in the first place?

The group chat, of course, was zero help.

“Just say it was for him. What’s the harm?”

“Tell him it’s a metaphor. Keep him guessing.”

“Confess your undying love and ask him to follow while you’re at it.”

You sighed, finally flopping onto your bed and opening the messages.

“What if it was?” you typed, hesitating for a moment before hitting send.

Immediately, your heart dropped into your stomach. What had you just done? Before you could spiral too deeply into regret over your reply, another notification popped up on your screen.

GeorgeClarkey started following you.

You froze. What the actual fuck was going on? Was this some elaborate joke for his video? Was he about to screenshot your profile and blast you to his friends and his followers as part of his next roast video?

Panic set in almost immediately. You scrambled to your profile, fingers flying as you opened your highlights. What did I even have on there? Your close friends was one thing, but your highlights were public.

The first highlight was fine. A sunset. Very normal. The second was a random dog you’d seen on a walk. Also fine. The third? Oh God, the third. A blurry photo of your face captioned, “Why am I like this?”

You cringed, hitting the delete button, but before you could delete anything else, another notification lit up your phone.

GeorgeClarkey replied to your story:

“Ok but… jokes aside be honest. Is this about me?”

Your group chat exploded before you could even blink.

“HE FOLLOWED YOU?!”

“Shut up. He did not.”

“Bestie, you’re famous now.”

“Oh my God he did! i checked his profile! Did he post anything? Has he said anything else?”

You ignored them, heart pounding as you stared at the notification. This couldn’t be real. George Clarke, internet golden boy who had every teenage girl in a chokehold, was actually engaging with you.

What the hell were you going to do?

You stared at George’s message, your mind racing: “Ok but…jokes aside be honest. Is this about me?”

Before you could fully process it, your fingers moved almost instinctively, opening the group chat. You switched to voice notes because typing just wasn’t fast enough to convey the absolute thoughts in your head.

“Guys,” you hissed into the mic, pacing your room. “What the actual fuck is going on? George Clarke just messaged me again. AGAIN. And he said—wait, no, let me read this. He said, ‘Ok but… jokes aside be honest. Is this about me?’”

You paused, pacing more furiously as all your friends started typing back.

“I don’t know what to say!” you continued in the next voice note, your voice slightly higher now. “Like, do I admit it? Do I deny it? Do I block him and change my name? HELP ME.”

The replies came in almost instantly:

“Post the screenshot right now.”

“Oh my God, you’re in a rom-com.”

“Say it was about him and see what happens. Do it for the plot.”

“Voice note us back with the drama or don’t bother replying at all.”

You rolled your eyes, even as you hit record again.

“Okay, fine. I’ll reply. But if this ends with me being clowned in one of his videos, you’re all accomplices.”

With one final deep breath, you typed out:

“Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t. What’s it to you?”

Your thumb hovered for a second, but then you hit send, immediately regretting it as your phone buzzed with another notification.

“Oh, it’s something to me. 😉”

You groaned, sending yet another voice note to the group chat.

“I AM GOING TO SCREAM. He just said it’s ‘something to him.’ WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!?”

Your friends weren’t helping, their replies now a chaotic mix of screaming voice notes and unhinged texts.

“He’s into you, bestie.”

“We’re living for this. Keep us updated.”

“I’m adding popcorn to my grocery list.”

Whatever George was playing at, it was… kind of fun.

You stared at his message: “Oh, it’s something to me. 😉”

Your heart thudded as you typed out a response, fingers moving on autopilot: “How come?”

For a second, you debated deleting it. Was that too straightforward? Too bold? But before you could overthink it, the message was already sent.

The group chat was on fire.

“WHAT DID YOU SAY???”

“Tell me you asked him why. PLEASE.”

“I’m pacing my room like it’s my drama, what is happening???”

You sent a quick voice note: “I asked him how come. Like, if he’s going to be cryptic, I’m making him work for it. I can’t just let him drop a winky face and get away with it.”

Your phone buzzed before the group could reply. Another message from George.

“Because now I’m curious. Was it really for me?”

You blinked at your screen. Curious? Curious?! Why did he have to phrase it like that? Like this wasn’t a throwaway Instagram post but some grand mystery he needed to solve.

You hit record on another voice note.

“GUYS. He said he’s curious. What the hell does that mean?!” you whispered furiously. “I’m spiraling. Do I double down? Do I back out? Help.”

The replies were just as unhinged as before.

“Double down. Always double down.”

“Tell him it’s his fault for making you curious too.”

“Can we just talk about how into this he clearly is? Like, bestie, he’s invested.”

You shook your head, biting your lip as you typed your next message.

“Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t. But now I’m curious—what if it was?”

Your thumb hovered for a moment before you hit send, already bracing for whatever chaos George Clarke was about to unleash next.

The notification popped up almost immediately:

GeorgeClarkey: “Well, if it wasn’t, how come I’m on your close friends and none of my friends are?”

Your jaw dropped. Oh, he was good. Too good. George Clarke wasn’t just playing along—he was winning.

You immediately switched to the group chat, hitting record on a voice note.

“Guys. He’s onto me. He said—and I quote—‘How come I’m on your close friends and none of my friends are?’” You paused, your voice rising in pitch. “WHAT DO I SAY TO THAT?”

The group chat blew up in record time.

“HE SAID WHAT?!”

“Oh my God, this man is flirting.”

“Deflect. Blame it on the algorithm. Lie if you have to.”

“No, no, you need to hit him back with something. Don’t let him win!”

You sent another voice note, pacing your room as you spoke.

“I don’t even know why he’s still on my close friends! It’s not like I planned this—he asked to be added for that stupid video, and I just forgot to take him off. But if I tell him that, he’s going to think I’m some kind of idiot who forgot George Clarke was on their list!”

One of your friends sent a voice note back, barely able to contain their laughter.

“Bestie, you are an idiot who forgot George Clarke was on their list. But now you’ve got him interested, so lean in. Own it. Say something mysterious.”

You sighed, staring at George’s message for a long moment before typing:

“Guess you’ll have to stick around to find out.”

Your heart was racing as you hit send, half-expecting him to call your bluff immediately. Instead, the little typing bubble appeared almost instantly.

“Don’t mind if I do. 😏”

You practically screamed, sending another voice note to the group chat.

“Guys. GUYS. He’s not just flirting. He’s doubling down. What do I do now?!”

The replies came back rapid-fire:

“Marry him.”

“This is officially fanfiction territory.”

“No, seriously, keep him on the hook. This is your moment.”

You didn’t George’s last message—“Don’t mind if I do. 😏”—because honestly, you needed a minute to think. Or maybe several. So instead of spiraling over how to respond, you stuck to your plan.

Ignoring the little red dot on his message thread, you switched to Instagram stories and posted something casual to your story: a cozy shot of your coffee on the table, framed by the warm tones of a London café from last weekend. The kind of post you always shared on quiet afternoons. You added the café’s location tag for good measure, captioning it simply: Need this.

The group chat was, of course, waiting.

“Update: just posted,” you said in a voice note, trying to keep your voice steady. “It’s a café pic. Totally chill, very me. If he reacts to this, I’ll… I don’t know, scream.”

You barely had time to put your phone down before it buzzed with a new notification:

GeorgeClarkey replied to your story.

Your heart jumped as you opened it.

“Good taste. But why didn’t you invite me?”

You sat there, staring at the message like it was in a foreign language. George wasn’t just reacting—he was flirting. Again.

“GUYS,” you hissed into a new voice note, pacing your room. “He replied. And get this—he said, ‘Good taste. But why didn’t you invite me?’ Like, is this man serious?!”

The chat erupted in chaos.

“Shut up, he did NOT.”

“He’s basically asking for a date. I’m calling it.”

“You better reply, right now.”

But you weren’t ready to give in that easily. Typing back too quickly would make it seem like you were waiting for him (which you definitely weren’t). So instead, you left his message on read, letting him sit with it while you debated your next move.

Another voice note: “I’m ignoring him for now. Let’s see if he doubles down.”

And honestly, you weren’t sure what thrilled you more: the fact that George Clarke had replied, or the fact that he was now waiting on you.

———————————————————————-

a/n my first george fic! there will be a part two! the formatting hasn’t worked the way it should have but i’ll work on it!

would like to thank George Clarke for seeing my close friends which then let to @pretendyoucantseeme who gave me the idea and @authortelevision for supporting the delusions. love you both😂

if you wanna be tagged in part 2 please let me know!

[kingkatsuki]

Thinking about a silly accidental confession with Kaji, because you just know he would have an entire photo album dedicated to you on his phone!!

It wasn’t unusual for you and Kaji to share phones, even though you weren’t dating. Swapping devices so you could create each other custom playlists for whatever new artist you were listening to that week, or searching through each others sound cloud to try and find that song you’d heard playing in a local music venue before the show.

The pair of you were so comfortable with each other that you knew each others passcodes, a fact that Hiragi took great delight in when he’d found out. Claiming that you could find out all of Kaji’s deep, dark secrets— causing his best friend to shoot him a glare across the table as he bit down on the hard peach candy he’d been sucking to stop himself from throwing back a retort.

But Hiragi was right— there was a huge secret that he’d been hiding from you, and one he was certain he’d take to his grave because there was no way you’d ever feel the same.

Kaji had left his phone on the coffee table as he’d got up to use the bathroom, giving you the perfect opportunity to pick it up and unlock it like you usually would. Intent on adding a new song you’d found by a local artist to his current playlist in the hopes of being able to drag him to one of their shows later this month. Typing in the digits across the screen as it unlocked and you were met with his photo gallery, not wanting to pry or come across an accidental lewd (no matter how curious you were) as your thumb moved to swipe out of the app but you paused when you noticed it.

Row upon row of photos of you. Candids mostly— of you smiling while sitting across the table in Pothos from him, ones where you were walking ahead of him beside Tsubaki as he lingered back, or your face pressed against the glass of an arcade machine as you tried to aim for a plushie inside. Along with selfies the pair of you had taken together, some with the ridiculous Snapchat filters Kaji had sworn he despised and barked at you to delete— bunny ears or fake blush filters on his cheeks, along with individual selfies of yourself that you had sent to him. And there was even screenshots of your conversations, or flirty and silly memes you’d sent each other.

And that’s the moment you looked up at the title of the album to see “My Everything <3” typed out. Feeling your heart begin to swell inside your chest as you were certain it would exert pressure against your rib cage and burst free, he really did feel the same.

“What are you doin’?” Kaji flopped back down beside you on the couch, his thigh nudging yours as he glanced over to his phone in your hands as he saw it, and for the first time since held known you he tried to snatch his phone from between your fingers roughly, “Give that back.”

“No.” You held it out of his reach as Kaji practically leaned his entire body over you to try and retrieve it, leaving your faces inches from each others as you met his steel-blue gaze, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think you felt the same,” His jaw locked as he tried to fight the awkward sensation that throbbed in his tummy, certain he’d ruined everything he already had with you because he had to go and catch feelings, “It’s stupid, I’m sorry I’ll delete it—”

“Why wouldn’t I?” You cut him off as you tilted your head to the side in confusion, and Kaji thought you looked so adorable it took every fiber of his being not to lean forward and smash his lips against yours.

“Why wouldn’t you what?” Kaji felt his throat start to tighten as his mouth felt dry, his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly to try and quell the feeling. Wishing he had a lollipop between his lips to stop himself from exploding as he tried to focus.

“Why wouldn’t I feel the same?” You gave him a soft smile as you dropped his phone onto the couch beside you in favour of cradling his jaw in your palm, feeling him lean into your warmth as your thumb stroked his cheek, “Because you’re my everything too.”

And that was all it took to have Kaji bridging the gap as he pressed his lips to yours in a gentle kiss.

[cy-cyborg]

How The Owl House did amputee representation right before Eda ever lost her arm - Disability in Media

[ID: A screenshot of Eda from The Owl House, an old woman with pale skin, very large, grey hair and pointed ears in a red dress. Beside the screenshot on a dark pink background is text that reads "Disability in media, How the Owl House got amputee representation right before eda ever lost her arm." /End ID]

Dana Terrace's The Owl House has some of the best disability rep I’ve seen on a Disney channel show in a long time, with Eda, the main character’s mentor, being one of many stand-out examples.

Plenty of people have discussed how Eda’s curse and the loss of her magic can work as an allegory for disability and how refreshing it is to see a story (especially one aimed at a younger audience) who’s focus is not on her “overcoming” it, but learning to accept it as a part of her and go from there. Eda’s story tackles a lot of subjects that are often mishandled in other examples of disability representation, from the subject of parents who refuse to accept, to glass siblings and much, much more, The Owl House handles all these topics beautifully.

But one thing that dawned on me during my most recent re-watch of The Owl House is how well Eda (and later Lilith) worked as amputee representation, long before Eda actually lost her arm.

One of the side effects of Eda and Lilith’s curse is that sometimes their body parts, mainly their limbs, can fall off. It doesn’t hurt them, and Eda is seen removing them intentionally at multiple times in the series, but they can always be reattached.

[ID: an image of Eda holding her sister Lilith's hand. Lilith is a pale woman with long, black hair, wearing grey clothes. She is looking at her other arm suprised, as her hand is missing. Luz, a Latina girl with short brown hair and a purple hoodie is looking on, smiling. /End ID]

While most likely unintentional, the way the show depicts this with Eda in particular is exactly what I wish more people would do with their prosthetic-using amputee characters.

Eda detaches her limbs, especially her legs, when they’re inconvenient or when she’s relaxing.

[ID: an image of Eda laying on the couch in a bathrobe, her hair in a towel. She has taken her legs off, throwing them to the other side of the seat. /End ID]

The fact that this is mostly played for laughs is actually a good thing in my opinion (though obviously, the show’s overall tone is part of that), as it shows the audience who are mostly children and teens, that in a world of weird and downright scary (from the perspective of the characters) things, this isn't one of them. It’s just a thing she and Lilith can do, and it can even be funny.

[ID: An image of Luz and Eda dressed as pirates. Eda is sitting on the ground, her legs detached and off screen somewhere. /End ID]

It does startle Luz and Lilith on a few occasions, but that’s more because they didn’t know the curse could do that, but once they’re introduced to it, it’s never really brought up as a big deal again.

I’d love to see more amputee characters who do this with their prosthetics. So often media is almost afraid to have amputees take their prosthetics off on camera or on the page. For some folks, our prosthetics are like a part of our bodies, but that doesn’t mean we never take them off. Show your leg amputee flop on the couch and throw their legs across the room. Have them go without on occasion, not because they have to, but because they just don’t feel like putting them on.

Likewise, the owl house creators never shy away from showing Eda when her limbs aren’t all attached. A lot of media, and kid’s shows in particular, will avoid having an amputee character’s stump visible if they ever do take their prosthetics off - treating that part of the character’s body the same way they treat gore or nudity. I’ve talked before how this actually does have a real impact on how kids in particular react to amputees - I’ve legitimately had kids I worked with cry when I took my prosthetics off, then immediately calm down when they see there’s nothing "scary" under my socks. As much as I love How To Train Your Dragon, it’s very guilty of this. Hiccup looses his leg at the end of the first movie, and wakes up with his prosthetic already attached. The Netflix series has a few instances where he has his prosthetic off, but the camera almost always avoids showing it until he can cover it up again, or is super zoomed-out so you wouldn’t be able to “see anything”. To their credit, they do get better with this in the last movie (though it's still always covered), but for the majority of the series, they are very reluctant to have any shots where hiccup’s leg is in view without the prosthetic (unless they’re very far away).

[ID: a screenshot of Hiccup from How To Train Your Dragon 3, a white man with short brown hair, and one leg missing, wearing armour made of black dragon scales and no prosthetic. He is holding onto toothless's head, a black dragon. /End ID]

Ironically, Eda does (permanently) loose an arm at the end of season 2, but I don’t really have much to say about her as amputee representation on that front, since she’s absent for a lot of Season 3, and when we do see her again, everything is so hectic, the story doesn’t really have any time to focus on her missing limb (which is reasonable). I will say, I do appreciate that they kept the amputation when she's in her owl-beast form in the finale, but there's honestly not much more to say about it. We do see her again in the epilogue after she’s had some time to settle into the amputation, wearing a hook prosthetic, but it’s, once again, too quick to really say anything from a representation standpoint. There's a few little nit-picky things I could bring up, like the fact they seemed to change the type on amputation she had (when she looses it, we see the split was very close to the elbow, but in the epilogue she has most of her forearm again) but those read to me more like animation mistakes or an odd prosthetic/clothing designs rather than a representation issue - and as someone who's worked in animation, given the stress the team was under for the finale, I'm not really worried about it. Like I said, it's more nit-picky than anything.

[ID: A screenshot of Eda, her hair tied back and wearing a red robe and a hook for her right hand. /End ID]

Despite all that though, I still think Eda is still good amputee representation, but mostly because of how they depict her curse’s side effects rather than her actual amputation. She’s honestly one of the only characters that I think you could refer to as “amputee coded” (outside of maybe Teen Titan’s Cyborg), and I genuinely wish more creators would treat their actual amputee characters the same way the Owl House treats Eda in that regard.

[charmandabear]

Office Hours - Chapter Three

Summary:

Astarion surprises you by inviting you to his place... for a real date? The evening doesn't go as expected when you uncover the darkness in his past.

Pairing: Astarion/F!Reader Rating: E Word Count: 5.4k Tags/Warnings: mentions of Astarion's past, vampire bites, blood drinking, blow job, p in v sex, fluff with a very small side of angst, Shadowheart being a bit of a manic pixie dream best friend

Since y'all are insistent on encouraging my worst tendencies, here, have the longest single thing I've ever written. I think about Professor Astarion at all waking (and sleeping at this point) hours. I have other things planned, I will eventually write something else, I promise. But also... this one is now becoming a full-fledged multi-chapter fic. I'm half-considering rewriting the first few chapters so it's in third-person? I don't know though, let me know what you think.

H1ghVoltage and Zaria were both invaluable betas for this one, I appreciate you both so much. And Zaria for always providing the most perfect screenshots at the drop of a hat. This literally would not exist without you.

Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist

“Excuse me? The one you’re always going on about?” Shadowheart’s eyebrows disappear into her platinum bangs as she tucks her feet underneath her, holding up her wine glass so it doesn’t spill. The two of you met while moving into adjacent apartments a few years prior; it turned out you had both just been hired at the university, her at the Divinity School and you at the College of Arts and Sciences. Since then you’ve become fast friends, and you’re finally filling her in on all of the details of the whirlwind that has been the past few days. You hide your chagrin behind a sip of wine.

“Okay, listen, yes, but hear me out. He looks like this.” You hold out your phone and show her the English department faculty page.

“Oh. Oh,” she says in a low tone as her eyes study the screen. “Okay, you didn’t tell me that.” 

“I think I was in denial,” you whine as you drop your head onto the couch cushion. “I focused on how much of an asshole he is to distract me from how hot he is.”

“And now? Will you see him again?” She tosses your phone at your feet and you lift your gaze.

“I don’t know? He made a joke about having sex in my office but I don’t think he actually meant it.” You cast a sidelong glance at Shadowheart, trying to gauge her expression.

“Scandalous,” she smiles into the rim of her glass before taking a long sip. You pick up your phone, looking at his portrait. It looks like a candid photo but it’s very clearly composed. He’s sitting pitched forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He’s looking off to the side and his brow is furrowed like he’s engaged in vigorous academic debate. It’s wildly pretentious.

You drop your phone again and angrily sip at your wine, letting the dry red flood over your tongue and coat the inside of your mouth. You notice Shadowheart eyeing you suspiciously.

“Do you want to?” she asks, and you put your glass onto the coffee table and curl your knees into your chest further.

“I… I don’t know? Like obviously the sex is good. Really good,” you add under your breath, and Shadowheart looks at you salaciously as your cheeks flush. “But whenever he says more than five words I want to gouge my eyes out.”

“Is that really how you feel, or have you just convinced yourself to feel that way?” she carefully asks. You glare at her, but you can't bring yourself to disagree. You drop your less-than-menacing expression and cover your face in your hands. You let out an exasperated sigh before suddenly gasping and looking up at her with wide eyes.

“Nine hells, did I tell you what else happened? At least one student knows. I saw her coming out of his office and she made some comment about ‘We all see how you look at him.’” You flop onto your side, burying your face in the couch cushion once again.

“Well, I suppose that answers your question, at least,” Shadowheart says reassuringly, and you narrow your eyes at her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean if you like him enough that your students are noticing, then you have to pursue him. The worst that’ll happen is you’ll break up and you can go back to hating him.” She’s awfully nonchalant about having just described a literal nightmare.

“Excuse me, how is that possibly meant to make me feel better?” you gape at her.

“At least you get a good shagging out of the deal, right?” she grins at you, and her teeth are tinged purple from the wine. You kick your foot out at her.

“Man, we need to get you laid, don’t we?” you tease and she groans.

“Listen, you just told me that you got railed twice in three days, it’s not that good out here for most of us.” Now it’s her turn to cover her face and you laugh. You pick up your wine and stretch your legs out to nudge Shadowheart’s calf.

“Who knows, maybe there’s some hot chick in the English department that he can hook you up with.” She pushes your leg back and rolls her eyes.

“Absolutely not, English academics are the worst.”

***

You have no idea what to expect when you inevitably run into Astarion the next day. You're tempted to just work from home since you don’t have any classes, but you have another damn season selection committee meeting that you can't miss, and you'd rather be around for students to drop in if they need to. 

You're on your way to the bathroom at the end of the day when you finally see him. You almost don't, at first, since you're looking down at your phone and you stop short of barrelling into him. You lock eyes and smile politely, then step to your left just as he steps to his right. You two share an awkward laugh just as it happens again in the opposite direction. After another few seconds of uncomfortable shuffling, he takes you by your shoulders and moves you to the side. You give him a thankful grin and quickly move past, trying to ignore the burning in your cheeks and the way your arms tingle where he touched you.

You get to the bathroom and close the door behind you, leaning against it to brace yourself. Your stomach is roiling, though whether it was from the embarrassment, the insatiable lust, or something else entirely, you can't quite tell. You turn on the faucet and splash your face with cool water. You stare at your reflection in the mirror, trying to will yourself into stoicism. It's a losing battle as the image of him having you bent over the sink pops into your mind. You shake your head, trying to think of something else, but that only makes it worse.

He’s pressed you up against the bathroom door and he's got your wrists pinned together above your head.

No, stop, you scold yourself. But the second you banish that image another one comes flooding in, your leg draped over his shoulder as he’s lightly sucking your clit with his fingers curled inside you.

You're dizzy with the mental image and you try to wrest it from your mind. You focus on the visual stimuli around you, the white tile, the fluorescent lights, the small blue stain beneath the soap dispenser. Eventually you find yourself back in your body and you massage your temples, trying to focus. 

Your head is still reeling slightly as you make your way back to your office. You unlock the door, completely unaware of his presence behind you until you catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye. You yelp and in an instant he’s towering over you with your back up against the wall. 

“Almighty gods, Astarion,” you swear breathlessly, your heart pounding more from the scare than the proximity for once. The proximity doesn’t help, however, when he tilts your chin with his knuckle and smiles devilishly. 

“Come to my place, let me cook you dinner,” he purrs, and your breath quickens. But when his words finally break through the seductive tone, something in your brain stops.

“Wait, cook? Can you- do you even- how-” You still haven’t fully recovered and your mouth struggles to form words. His smile widens and you know he’s enjoying watching you splutter.

“What, do you think in all of my 350 years I've never bedded a mortal? Besides,” he trails his hand down your neck and strokes it gently with his thumb, sending a shiver down your spine, “I have other ways of getting my fill.”

You instinctively tilt your head for him, almost like you’re inviting him to bite right here and now. You manage to recoup your senses just enough to quip, “I’m sure you have plenty of experience luring cute mortals back to your place.”

You think you see his jaw tighten for a fraction of a second, but it’s gone before you can be sure.

“I’ll take it as a yes, then?” He pulls away and adjusts his glasses, his fingers sliding into his hair. You nod, not trusting the words to come out of your mouth. He pulls a slip of paper from his pocket and tucks it into the neckline of your shirt, a move that would have been unbearably corny coming from anyone else.

“See you then… lover.” He winks and glides out of the room as silently as he came in. You take a breath to steady yourself, a voice in the back of your head grumbling because of how much he has you wrapped around his finger. But admittedly, he seemed equally flustered when you almost plowed into him a few minutes ago.

Maybe not the best choice of words.

You pull the piece of paper out to see an address, date, and time. Tomorrow at 7. 

Cool. Cool cool cool cool cool.

Now you just need to occupy yourself for the next 26 hours and not completely lose your nerve.

***

Occupying yourself isn’t terribly difficult with Shadowheart around. She keeps you busy all day with various errands, shopping, anything to keep you from spiraling.

Nevertheless, when it’s finally time to get dressed, you find yourself overthinking every tiny element. You stand frozen in front of your open underwear drawer trying to decide between the black lace or the pink satin.

“Shadowheeeaaaarrrrrtttt,” you call out to her in the other room. She pops her head in and gives you a pitying smile as she sees your anxiety-ridden face.

“Alright, sit, let me help,” she clinks her glass down on your dresser and nudges you until you’re sitting on your bed, fidgeting with the belt of your robe. 

“Black lace, it’s sexier,” she says sagely, tossing the panties at you and you slide them on under your robe. She pulls the plaid skirt out of the shopping bag and flings it onto the bed. 

“Put that on because we both agreed it’s adorable. It might be warm enough to go without tights?” she muses, then glances at you mischievously. “And since he has a track record of destroying those, maybe go with these instead.” She throws a pair of thigh highs at you and they hit you in the face. You wrinkle your nose.

“Careful,” you warn, but she ignores you. She floats over to your closet and sifts through the hangers. She pulls out a top, shifts her gaze between you and the garment a few times, then drops it on the floor. After another moment of searching, she pulls out a blousy cardigan, throwing it on the bed next to you.

“Don’t put that on yet, I’ll be right back.” She disappears before you can say anything. You’re left sitting on your bed in just your bra and skirt, and you rub your feet together with a restless energy.

Shadowheart returns just a few minutes later holding a lacy top that reads more as lingerie than an actual shirt. She returns your skeptical frown with a giant grin.

“Shade, I'm not wearing that,” you gripe, and she throws it in your face.

“Put it on before you judge,” she chides in response, and you roll your eyes. 

“Fine, but it probably won't fit,” you say as you take off your bra and don the sheer v-neck cami. Other than straining around your chest slightly, the fit is fine. You put on the oversized cardigan over it and look at the full effect in your floor length mirror.

“See, told you,” she says smugly as you admire your reflection. And it's true, the underwear-as-outerwear really does bring the look from glorified schoolgirl cosplay into something a bit more refined. You give her a disgruntled sidelong glance but otherwise say nothing.

“Alright, get going. Go put your shoes on and chase that Ph D.” She pushes you out of your bedroom and towards the front door of your apartment. “Don't worry about me, I'll be here drinking your wine and masturbating all by myself while you get fucked through the end of the tenday.”

You slip on your black suede ankle boots and pleadingly look at Shadowheart one more time. You're still not convinced that this whole thing isn’t just a trip into the lion’s den.

“Go! I look forward to hearing all the gory details,” she says and plants a smooch on your cheek. She then smacks your ass as you head out the door, your yelp earning a satisfied smirk.

Sure enough, when you find yourself outside his apartment door, you can feel your cold feet catching up with you. You're about to take out your phone and text Shadowheart that you're going to leave when his door opens.

“Hello, beautiful,” he croons, and the syrup in his voice makes your mouth go dry. The sleeves of his white button down are rolled up and the first few buttons are undone, leaving his collarbone exposed. The black vest tapers in his waist and flows seamlessly into his well-tailored trousers. But the first thing you notice is his glasses.

“Your glasses are different,” you blurt, internally cursing your bluntness. His eyebrows pop up above the thicker plastic frames.

“Is that a problem?” he asks without a hint of malice in his voice. You blush and quickly shake your head.

“No I- I like them. They look good,” you stutter, looking away from the heat of his gaze. He smiles and takes your hand almost like he's leading you in a courtly dance, pulling you inside.

You look around his apartment, noticing the similarities to the hominess of his office. Big overfull bookshelves, warm-lit lamps dotted around the space, papers and other junk littered across every surface. It still surprises you that he doesn’t keep a tidy space, but at the same time you find it oddly charming.

You spot a hairless cat sitting on some mail on a table in the corner, delicately licking its paw. 

“Aww, who’s this?” You approach the cat, holding out your hand for it to sniff. It hisses in response and you take a step back.

“That's His Majesty, and you're best to respect his wishes,” Astarion calls from the kitchen.

“You named your cat His Majesty?” you ask, trying to suppress the laugh bubbling in your throat.

“No, he named himself His Majesty,” he replies, returning from the kitchen with a spoonful of risotto. “Taste,” he commands and you obediently open your mouth. The steaming food coats your tongue with a tangy, savory taste. You nod at him, barely trusting yourself to speak. It tastes incredible.

You turn back to His Majesty, and you notice an empty potion of animal speaking tipped on its side near him.

“Well I'll just admire such a handsome creature from a distance, then,” you say and His Majesty preens slightly. You can hear a hum of approval from Astarion as he retreats back into the kitchen.

This man is full of contradictions. Pristine, clean cut outward appearance with a cluttered, disorganized space. Cool and disaffected, but he loves his cat enough to use potions to communicate with him. He doesn't need to eat, but somehow he’s an incredible cook? You frown to yourself; it feels like something doesn't add up.

You start scanning one of the bookshelves, wondering what else you can learn about him. If there was an organizational system, it wasn't clear. 48 Laws of Power, History of Modern Sexuality, On the Genealogy of Morality, Gender Trouble… Ayn Rand sitting next to Octavia Butler?

What the fuck does he like?

“How is my collection of books holding up in your estimation?” Astarion’s sudden presence behind you makes you jump. He presses a wine glass into your hand and ghosts his lips across the crook of your neck, sending a swath of goosebumps down your arms.

“Did I tell you that you look absolutely delicious?” he murmurs into your skin, and you can already feel yourself getting lightheaded.

“You're one to talk,” you say on a dizzied exhale, and the breath from his laugh tickles your shoulder. He puts his hands on your waist, running a finger along the inside of the waistband of your skirt. He gives it a gentle tug and you unconsciously move in the direction he’s pulling.

“Come eat,” he says, guiding you to a table with one place setting. You sit, feeling awkward as he sits across from you, a wine glass in his hand.

“Are you just going to watch me eat?” you laugh nervously. He smiles into the glass, glancing at you above the rectangular frames sliding down his nose.

“Well if you're insistent, I can have my dinner as well.” He's not subtle about leering at your neck, sparking a flicker of heat in your belly. You distract yourself by taking another bite of the risotto, which somehow tastes even better than what he fed you before.

“So what do you experience when you have… food?” you ask, trying to shift his attention off you eating. He looks up as he thinks, and you find your gaze tracing his jawline.

“It’s… sour. Like it’s spoiled. But when something is cooked well, and with high quality ingredients, it’s more bearable.”

You look down at your food, the taste dancing across your palette. It's certainly better than something you could make for yourself. But you know so little about cooking techniques besides the basics that you don’t know what the difference would even be.

“And you're drinking wine. What does that taste like?” You try not to stare at the dark red liquid collecting on his lips, but it’s hard not to when his tongue darts out to lick it up.

“Alcohol has a higher threshold for quality, so it's generally more palatable. It usually means a higher budget for these things, but it's not as though I'm spending much on groceries.” He narrows his eyes at you, but you can't read his expression. 

“Well go on,” he continues, and you tilt your head in confusion. “Ask the question that you really want to ask.” Your heart starts beating a little faster and he smirks. Gods, you really hate that he can read you like that. It would be nice to keep at least one emotion private.

“What does blood taste like?” Your voice is barely above a whisper, but it's clear that he hears you. His smile widens just enough to show off his fangs.

“It depends on the person,” he replies just as casually as if you had asked him about his taste in music. “Some are sweeter, like a nice rich port, while others have a bit of a burn, like whiskey. However, you?” He places his glass on the table and stands, and you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. He crosses behind your chair and sweeps your hair to the side, lasciviously inhaling your scent behind your ear, eliciting a shiver.

“Yours is smooth with a hint of spice, like a fine aged brandy. But the finish has an addictive quality, like absinthe.” He nips lightly at the base of your neck without breaking skin.

“Such pretty words,” you exhale on a breathy moan, reaching a hand up behind you and running your fingers through his hair, pulling him toward you ever so slightly.

“Is that what you want?” he breathes into your ear, and you arch your back in your seat, panting. You can barely get out the “yes” before he sweeps you out of the chair and wraps your legs around his waist. He carries you into the kitchen, placing you on the counter and pressing your knees apart with his torso. You whine and the cool tile pressing into your ass reminds you of his touch. He slides one hand behind your head and the other around your waist, and sinks his teeth into your neck.

The initial pain surprises you every time, and your yelp is followed by his satisfied groan. You grip the back of his neck as he drinks, and you can feel the muscles working with each swallow. The feeling of your blood coursing through both of your bodies gets you high, knowing it's your blood that flushes his lips, cheeks, and ears. It's your blood flowing to his cock. The reminder of it makes you clench instinctively.

He pulls away just as you're teetering on the edge of passing out. He’s always panting after he feeds, his glasses slightly askew and a ravenous look in his eye that makes your mouth water. You pull him into a heated kiss, the metallic tang on his lips becoming a sensory reminder of the post-feeding bliss. 

You pull him closer with your feet, aching just to feel him pressed against you. Your hands scramble against his back, tugging at his collared shirt. He’s wearing far too many layers and he hasn’t even blessed you with the sight of his gorgeous sculpted chest yet. 

You slide a hand into the back of his collar, desperate for his skin, when your fingers brush over thick raised scar tissue. He pulls back faster than you do and your hands immediately go to cover your mouth.

“I'm sorry, I didn’t–” you begin but the pained look in his eye makes you stop short.

“No it's… it's fine. I've had those for a very long time. I… ah…” he stutters, adjusting his glasses uncomfortably, and you've never seen him so flummoxed.

“What are they from?” The question leaves your mouth before you can stop it. You're about to retract, tell him he doesn't need to answer, when he speaks quietly.

“They're from… the man who turned me. He kept me as a slave for 200 years. It’s something written in infernal, but I never found out what it said. And his death ensured I never would.” He speaks while looking down at the floor, his distant gaze indicating that he's somewhere else entirely.

“Astarion…” you breathe, and you cup his face in your hands. He smirks and snakes his arms around your waist; the mask is back on.

“Don’t worry about me, darling,” he says with a composed smile, “it was a very long time ago. I’m more concerned with tonight.” He moves to kiss your neck again but you put your hand against his chest to stop him.

“No- well, I mean yes to tonight, but… let me take care of you,” you say softly, and his careful expression slips again.

“I- well if that’s what you want.” He crinkles his brow, unsure of what to make of your proposal.

“Is it what you want?” You stroke his cheek, and it suddenly feels like this is an entirely different man standing in front of you. Hesitant, vulnerable, his usual swaggering confidence replaced with an uncertain tenderness that makes your heart pound in a way that feels wholly unfamiliar with him.

“I’m not sure,” he says, his voice dropping to just above a whisper.

“We don’t have to,” you offer quickly, “we can just fuck up against a wall or something.” The joke breaks the tension and he lets out a little giggle.

“What do you have in mind?” He looks up at you through heavy-lidded eyes, and you ease off the counter and gently nudge him backwards toward his bedroom. He follows your lead, his doubtful look shifting into something of excitement and mischief. You guide him until the back of his knees hit the bed, and you push him to sit. 

You straddle his lap and run your fingers through his silvery curls. You kiss along his jawline and down his neck, placing a particularly tender kiss on his bite scar. He exhales heavily, sliding his hands up your thighs and resting them on your lower back.

You begin carefully unbuttoning his vest, followed by his shirt, untucking the hem from his pants. You slide it down his shoulders and onto the bed behind him, letting your warm hands run over the cool planes of his skin. His eyes follow your movements carefully and you take your time, tracing over every divet, every freckle and mole. You delight in his gasp when your fingers dance over his navel and down to his belt buckle.

You slip off his lap and drop between his legs, your hands continuing their journey along his hips. You plant increasingly hungry kisses above his waistband as you remove his belt and unzip his pants. He leans back on his hands as his breathing quickens, but he doesn’t take his eyes off you.

You’re struck with the irony that the last time you were between Astarion’s legs like this it was to get revenge, to make him feel flustered and speechless the way he always does to you. Now you have him, flustered and speechless, and all you want is to worship him, make him feel warm and safe.

You slide his pants down under his ass, pulling them all the way off so he’s sitting on his bed fully nude. You run your lips along his inner thigh as you palm his growing erection. 

“Ah- wait,” he stammers and you immediately look up and pull back.

“Yes?” you ask, frozen by the fear that you’ve gone too far.

“I want to see you,” he whispers, nudging your cardigan off your shoulder. “All of you.”

It’s hard to believe that someone sitting naked in front of you can make you feel so exposed. You shiver as you drop the cardigan off your back, the sudden exposure to cool air making your nipples poke through the lacy top that Shadowheart gave you. You stand and he watches intently as you unzip your skirt, letting it fall to the floor in a pool at your feet. His expression gives little away, but his cock doesn’t. By the time you’ve removed the black panties, thigh highs, and cami, it stands at full attention. His knees squeeze around your legs and his arms pull you in close to him, pressing his nose against your belly. You card your fingers through his hair and down to his chin, tilting his head upwards.

“Better?” you breathe, and he nods, his eyes round and wide. You bend down to kiss him, slow and languid, before dropping to your knees again. When you pull away his mouth stays open, suspended in the shape of your kiss.

You settle between his knees and lightly kiss the head of his dick. You flick your gaze upward, monitoring his expression as you lazily run your fingers along his shaft. His glasses balance on the tip of his nose as he looks down at you, transfixed by your ministrations. You open your lips slightly, not quite taking him into your mouth yet as you softly cup his balls in your hand. You can hear his breath growing ragged, and he rewards you with an almost inaudible moan when your tongue finally wets his cock.

You wrap your lips around his tip, gently working the underside with your tongue. You run your hands up his thighs, squeezing his hips as they buck into you. You take more of him in, the warmth of your mouth contrasting with the cool, sensitive skin. He groans and tangles his fingers in your hair, a gesture that feels closer to petting than pulling.

You pull your mouth off his cock, wrapping your hand around the now slick shaft. You run your thumb along the slit, and his responding shutter makes you smile.

“Ah- enjoying yourself?” he murmurs, unable to keep his voice steady. You look up at him and drag your tongue along his entire length.

“I am, are you?” you hum, taking him back into your mouth and swirling your tongue around the tip. His leg quivers beside you, his toes curling inward.

“Mmph,” he grunts in assent, his hand twisting into your hair a little more. You slip your hands under his thighs and slide your mouth further down, letting him fill you up. His hips jerk, wanting to thrust into you, and you relax your jaw to let him. His little pants and disjointed moans send a jolt of heat down to your core, and you can feel yourself becoming wet with desire for him. 

You reach down and slip your middle finger between your slick folds, your groan vibrating into him. He hisses and pulls you off his cock and into a fierce kiss. The two of you tumble backwards onto the bed, your hair encircling you like a curtain. You press your bodies together, the smoldering heat spreading into a raging wildfire. He lines himself up with your entrance as you continue your desperate assault on his lips. He slides in with ease and your cry into his mouth accompanies him bottoming out. 

You push yourself up, bracing yourself on his chest as you grind into him. He plants his hands on your hips, thrusting up into you. Your head falls back in ecstasy, your hair cascading down the length of your back. You increase the pace of your rolling hips, each breath growing more voiced as you approach your peak. 

“Oh gods, Astarion,” you babble, his name falling out of your mouth like a prayer. He realizes you’re getting close, he sits up and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into him tight. He latches onto your nipple, flicking his tongue and sucking to send your pleasure to staggering heights. You arch your back into him as your arms hook over his shoulders, brushing your hands against those awful scars. Your hands splay across his back as if to say no one will ever hurt you like that again. 

You pull his face to yours so that you can taste his lips as you crash over the edge. The kiss is broken up by your cries and you can feel his cock throbbing inside you, his grunts in time with his pulsing seed. You stay still and connected as the waves of pleasure ebb and flow and finally settle. The only noise left in the room is both of your heavy panting, and the telltale sound of just your heart pounding.

His hands slide down your back as you carefully pull yourself off him and you shiver as his now-soft cock falls out of you. You kneel next to him and rest your head on his shoulder, and he reaches over to stroke your jaw.

“Thank you,” he hums softly, and you press another sweet kiss to his neck. His scar.

After a moment you let out a contented sigh, then you say, “Well, I should probably gather my things and go, then.” You begin to stand to dress, but his hand closes around your wrist. You turn to him, unable to hide the surprise on your face.

“Or you could… stay. If you want.” He looks up at you through smudged and sweaty glasses and a smile tugs at your lips.

“What do you want?” you ask, and you watch him shift uncomfortably with a question that he’s not used to answering.

“I want…” he begins, hesitant. “I want to watch last year’s Globe production of Much Ado About Nothing with you. You said you like that one, right?” Your ears grow hot as you realize the extent to which he actually paid attention to you, even before you were sleeping together.

“I do, yeah. One of his best,” you say, your voice cracking slightly as you repeat his words back to him. That interaction feels like it was eons ago, when in fact it was less than a tenday. 

He smirks, some of his confident charm seeping back into his demeanor. He scoots back on the bed until he’s resting against the headboard, and then he reaches out to you, inviting you to curl in next to him. You oblige, and he turns on the TV across from the bed, pulling up the pro-shot. You sink in next to him, appreciating how his chest cools your flushed cheek.

A single word gnaws at the back of your mind and you banish it quickly. 

No, that’s the oxytocin talking.

It’s just been a long time since you’ve slept with someone more than once.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head and the gnawing grows more insistent.

…

Fuck.

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

I read your post about not letting kudos and hits upset us. I try to think this way but I'm curious about something else. I've written many fanfics for my fandom and they're all "flop". I don't mind that honestly. But then some writers have written only one fic about the ship I do and and it gets hundreds of kudos. How do some writers achieve that when I'm doing the same and it doesn't get the same response. What else can I do?

I’m afraid I can’t give you a definite answer about what you should do or why this person’s work is more popular, but what I can give you are some advice and, from my experience, some reasons that might explain why other’s works receive more hits and kudos.

start with why other writers’ works are more popular when it’s the same characters, same ship, same fandom. there are various factors at play that might be it;

maybe the person already has large audience base prior to their posting about the fandom you’re in, I know a few authors who already have these sorts of loyal readers that would read any work the authors posted even if they (the readers) were not in that fandom.

maybe someone, anyone, decided share the link to this person’s work on Tumblr or Twitter (X) or any social media platform, and it kind of became viral, thus it drew in lots and lots of readers. it could take just one person, didn’t necessarily have to be the author themself, to share the link among the fandom as a recommendation, or maybe a screenshot of one sentence from the fic that they liked, what happened next is that the replies were filled with people asking for the link.

tags and summary are important factors when people are looking for a fic to read. so maybe this person’s work is tagged with the content people were looking for? maybe their summary grabbed people’s attention or curiosity?

these are just what I can think of over the top of my head.

as for what you can do to gain more readers, I’ve never seen your work so the advice I can give will be a general one; I believe the trick lies in summary, tags as well as the format of one’s work.

when it comes to AO3 (I assume it’s your platform?), tags and summary are the main things people use to determine whether or not they want to click on the fic.

tag your content properly, what characters or pairings it’s about, as well as what the readers will find upon reading your work (you don’t have to spoil it, only the general tags that will give your readers an idea of what they’re in for).

summaries are just as important. there are no “rules” obviously, and I’m not telling you or any writers what to do. though a little advice that I personally take is that you use this little summary section AO3 gives you to do anything to make sure it stands out and that people will see it and want to click on it. that means leave “author’s note” out of the summary section. folks, AO3 summary is the first glimpse into the fic itself that people will see prior to clicking on it, most of the time, people look at the summary to see the author’s writing style and if what’s written, plotwise, grabs their interest. personally, when I see an author use “summary” as a place to write “author’s note”, chances are, I will scroll past that fic as I am interested in what the fic is about, not what the author has to say about their opinion on said fic or their personal life or anything (there’s an author’s note section for that) and if I can’t get a glimpse of what the plot is about or what the author’s writing style is from the summary section, then I won’t click on it, and will look for other fic that can get me interested instead.

moving on to fic format, again, I am not telling anyone what to do here. this is only a suggestion, an advice I’ve learned and want to share: when you write your fic, make sure to use line and paragraph spacing. if your 10k word long fic is one long block of text with no paragraph break, chances are, people will back away from it entirely. also, if it’s two different characters talking with dialogues, don’t put all of their dialogues in one paragraph. for instance, a paragraph for character A’s dialogue, then another separate paragraph for character B’s dialogue and so on.

and I think that’s it for my advice? however, I’ll say this again that the secret to truly enjoying your role as a fanfic writer is that you only focus on yourself. write whatever you want for yourself. it doesn’t matter if this person’s work is more popular, because fanfics and fandoms aren’t a competition. you are your main audience. just have fun creating the stories you want to create for you.

[ruru195]

Can you write a fic about boris just wanting to play minecraft but everyone is bothering him😭🤞🏾

I Just Want to Play

It was a calm afternoon. The kind of perfect, golden silence where the sun pours through the window, snacks are piled high, and Boris had exactly one goal:

To play Minecraft in peace.

He slid on his headphones, cracked open a soda, and whispered to himself, “Let’s build the mega wolf statue today.”

His fingers hovered over the keyboard.

Until— BANG.

The door slammed open, and Cuphead stumbled in with two cats clinging to his shirt.

“BORIS,” he said dramatically, like he hadn’t just kicked the door off its hinges, “I need twenty bucks.”

Boris didn’t even blink. “Why.”

Cuphead held up Señor Fluffo like a prize. “Vet check-up. Probably. Or toys. Listen, that’s not the point. I know you’ve got cash. You always do.”

Boris squinted. “You want me to pay… for your cats.”

“They’re our cats,” Cuphead lied without shame, rubbing Pickles against Boris’s face.

“I am literally trying to play Minecraft.”

“And I’m trying to give my babies a better life! Priorities, wolf boy!”

Before Boris could respond, Mugman’s voice called from the hallway.

“CUP! LEAVE HIM ALONE!”

Mugman poked in with a juice box in hand, leaned on the doorframe, and gave Boris a teasing grin. “You back at the blocks again?”

Boris smiled slightly. “I’m building a mountain house this time.”

“Oh yeah?” Mugman walked in and flopped onto Boris’s bed. “Remember last time you tried that and got lost in your own staircase?”

“That was a design choice,” Boris mumbled.

“Uh-huh,” Mugman said, sipping his juice.

Then—because peace is a myth—Bendy entered next, holding a to-do list longer than a scroll.

“What are you doing?” Bendy asked like an annoyed older brother.

Boris turned slowly. “Playing. Minecraft.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s fun?”

Bendy frowned. “Why don’t you do something productive instead? Read. Practice. Take notes for the next quest. Finish the maintenance report—”

“Minecraft is a mental health exercise,” Boris declared.

Bendy arched an eyebrow. “Is blowing up creepers therapy now?”

“Yes,” Boris said firmly.

Bendy sighed and left with a muttered, “You better not blow up your grades too.”

Finally, blessedly, the door clicked shut.

Boris sighed with relief, turned back to his monitor— And jumped when Felix’s voice crackled through his laptop speakers.

“Boris.”

“GAH—Felix?!”

“I noticed you’re online,” Felix said through the team group call. “I was researching—wait. Are you playing a pixelated mining game?”

Boris groaned. “Don’t start—”

“Games like this deteriorate cognitive function,” Felix said primly. “You should be reading about the history of architecture, not stacking digital cubes.”

“I am literally building a gothic cathedral.”

There was a pause. Then:

“…Well, send me a screenshot when you finish. I want to assess the symmetry.”

Felix left the call.

Boris just stared at his poor untouched block of cobblestone.

Then a hand reached over his shoulder and dropped a cookie in front of him.

Mugman.

“I got us snacks,” Mug said with a grin. “Move over. I’m gonna help you build that cathedral—and make it cursed.”

Boris chuckled. “Fine. You place the lava this time.”

They scooted close together, controllers in hand, Minecraft booted, chaos ready.

Cuphead ran past the door yelling about Fluffo being in the toaster.

Bendy could be heard sighing loudly down the hall.

Felix sent a follow-up message about calculating load-bearing walls.

But Boris?

He was finally happy.

Because sometimes, the best therapy was Minecraft… And playing it with your best friend.

[fameandfiction]

IMAGINE PART I: “Poison Poison” — Reneé Rapp x Reader

— One‑sided closure.

[After the final call on “Snow Angel” set, nighttime wrap party in a converted loft; dripping candles, half-empty vodka bottles, designer dust, tension humming like electricity]

You slip in late. Almost miss it: the loft is dim, indie tracks wobbling overhead, half the cast drowning in cocktails. You spot her, Reneé, in a corner, shoulders tight, glass clutched, eyes flicking with a glare that could cut glass.

By her side: Adam, a PR type, laughing too loud after hearing rumored stories. And that face—the one you know all too well—leaning close to whisper, eyes calculating.

Reneé’s jaw is set.

Your breathing stops.

It didn’t have to be like this. You learned that tonight.

The room thrums with celebration; you hear laughter, heels clicking, glasses clinking. You’re moving toward her like driftwood, cautious.

She catches your gaze, nods. You take a deep breath.

“Need space?” you whisper.

She turns, violet dress glinting, face shadowed by candlelight. “Nasty shit’s being said.”

You swallow. “I know.”

Her mouth curls. “Of course you do.”

Which you do. You know every whispered rumor across hair and makeup trailers, every sold‑story about her being “difficult,” every childhood joke suddenly weaponized in group chat screenshots.

Because it came from one person. One voice on set.

She clicks her tongue. “Yeah.” Short and venomous. She flicks the leftover vodka back. A splash of red‑light across her cheek.

“That bitch,” she breathes.

You don’t flinch. You’ve heard worse.

[Flashback: On set, two weeks ago] Reneé stands by the equipment trailer, chest heaving. You rush over.

“Hey,” you say. “What happened?”

She flashes back at you, mascara leaking, voice clipped: “She laughed. Said I can’t play my character unless I lose twenty pounds. Said no one would fuck me ‘if I looked like that.’ All in front of the cast.”

Your fists tighten.

“You didn’t tell me.”

Reneé simply shrugs.

“Need me for anything?”

“Yeah.” She paused. “Never let her near me again.”

[Back to party]

You circle her. She stares at the ceiling, lips moving like she’s brewing internal fire.

The rumble stops, the two of you alone now.

“Want me to get her?” you ask.

She turns. Swallows. Suddenly small. “Yes, please.”

You move, fast. But rocks shift in your chest, hesitation rising because you fear violence. You fear that version of yourself. So you stay.

She meets your eyes again. “You didn’t.”

And she never asked.

Later: Midnight, still at party. She’s radiating fury. You finally approach again.

She grips your arm. “Let’s go.”

From there it unravels. No more acting, no more modulated breathing. You walk into the parking lot where her ex‑friend awaits by a rented Lexus—lips curling.

Reneé doesn’t knock. She launches.

Words slice through air. You hear footsteps, crowd forming. Hot‑blooded, bleeding confession. Every insult earned, every thinly‑veiled compliment twisted into a dagger. You stay quiet, numbed by how alive she looks.

When her voice breaks on the final “You almost got away with it,” you step in.

Your hand on her arm.

She jerks. Stare soft but burning. You whisper: “Enough.”

She nods, staggering with raw emotion.

Outside, the night chills. You walk her back to her car.

“It feels good,” she admits, voice quiet.

You hug tight over her shoulder you hear the flashbulbs, cameras from coworkers who filmed it all. You don’t care.

“It helped,” she breathes.

You sniffle. “Let’s go home.”

[The house]

Scattered script pages, half‑burned candles, the city’s pulse below. She flops onto your couch, head on your lap.

“Fuck her,” she whispers, bitterly.

You run your hand through her hair.

She rolls a mascara‑smudged smile. “Poison poison.”

You nod. “Let’s not forgive her.”

She laughs—wild, jagged. “No. Fuck no.”

You tickle her side until she hits that laugh‑cry, broken and beautiful.

Hours later: dawn edges the curtains. She’s buried under blankets, still awake.

“Thank you,” she murmurs.

“For?”

“Not letting her win.”

You smile. “Never.”

She turns to you, sleepy vulnerability showing. “Friend?”

“Always.”

She nods. Closes her eyes again.

[Epilogue scene: Two days later, studio lot]

Reneé walks by ex‑friend, locked eyes—no words, only a flicker. She gets into her trailer. You’re waiting.

She embraces you without asking. You let her. Food trucks outside. Cameras flicker, they whisper.

She inhales. Soft victory.

Beside you, watch her walk in.

The world still thinks she’s ‘poison,’ but you know—no, she knows—that they’re wrong.

[lilygoofywritingcave]

Dances, Disasters and Everything in Between (part 2 - final)

It's finally done, thanks everyone for the love from discord :3

After that announce ment, Luca spent the entire day following and begging Feli, pleading his case like a man on death row: “Please, please, please, just an hour a day - no, half an hour! I’ll owe you forever!” Feli barely spared him a glance as she flipped through her notebook. “You say that as if your debt would be worth anything.” Luca clutched his chest dramatically. “Ouch. Come on, Feli, you’re good at this stuff! You wouldn’t leave a poor, struggling student behind, would you?” Feli crosse her arms: “What makes you think I have time to waste on tutoring someone who clearly hasn’t opened a book in months?” Luca gave her his best, most dramatic pleading expression like a puppy: “Because you have a kind, beautiful, generous soul?” Feli looks unimpressed. “That’s not going to work on me.” "Please.....!" After hours of persistent begging, interrupted by Angel filming his “pathetic downfall” and Ronin openly placing bets on when he’d give up, Feli finally caved. “Fine,” she sighed, shutting her notebook. “But if you slack off, I’m out.” Luca beamed out a smile so bright Feli thought she was staring into the sun: “Yes! You won’t regret this! I swear I’ll be the most dedicated student you’ve ever had!” Feli cut him off with a sharp look. “I'm already regreting this.” As the school day ended, Luca flopped onto his bed, exhausted from his efforts. Ronin is probably outside, already planning how to piss V off again. Just as he was about to close his eyes, his phone buzzed.

Misaki: “GUESS WHO BEGGED THEIR OWN WAY INTO HELL” Luca unlocked his phone, confused, only to see a series of screenshots. There were dozens upon dozens of texts filled the screen of Misaki spamming Valentin with messages, each one more chaotic than the last. Misaki: hey hey hey hey hey hey v please i will literally die think of our future kids /j what if I promise to stop drawing offensive portraits of the principal? (ok I won’t actually but still - ) v???? v please respond v u there? v i can see u reading this, don't hide v i know where u live v im coming over (...) And finally, Valentin’s reluctant, exhausted reply: Valentin: “Fine. Just stop texting me. My phone is about to combust from all these notifications.” Luca laughed before typing back: “Damn, you really harassed him into submission.” Misaki: “Yeah. He said he’d help if I left him alone. Worth it.” Misaki: “Guess we’re both suffering now.” Luca: “At least we’ll suffer for a good cause.” Misaki: “Yeah. We better have a damn blast at this prom.” Luca: “Hell yeah.”

When Luca's academic comeback journey began, he surprisingly takes it pretty seriously (not like Valentin, but, more than usual...) . Every day after classes, they would meet in the library, turning Luca's usual hideout into a study corner.

At first, Feli expected him to zone out, crack jokes, or lose focus within minutes, but to her surprise, he actually tried. He struggled, that's for sure, sometimes groaning dramatically and flopping over his notebook as if it stabbed him in the back, but he never quit. “You’re improving, slowly, but visible” Feli admitted one afternoon, tapping her pen against his worksheet. Luca leaned back in his chair, arms behind his head, flashing a smug grin. “So you’re saying I’m a genius? When will my Nobel prize comes I wonder.” “I said ‘improving,’ not ‘miraculous recovery. Now get back to that worksheet.’” His grin changed into an exaggerated pout before he sighed and got back to work. That didn’t stop him from sneaking in little comments and teases just to get a reaction out of her. “You’re pretty scary when you’re focused, you know?” he mused one day, twirling his pencil. “Not in a bad way, though. It’s kinda cute.” Feli nearly dropped her pen. “Do your work,” she said quickly, staring down at the page. Despite her irritation, her ears burned at the compliment, which only fueled Luca’s amusement. It didn’t take long for others to notice the change in him. Ronin raised an eyebrow when he caught Luca actually taking notes in class instead of dozing off. “Who are you and what have you done with my dumbass friend? Is the doppelganger already here?” Angel, overhearing, smirked. “I think we all know what, or rather, who made that happened.” She nudged Feli playfully. Feli huffed, rolling her eyes. “He just doesn’t want to fail. And I agreed to help.” Angel grinned knowingly. “Uh-huh. Sure...” Even Valentin seemed suspicious of Luca’s sudden dedication. When he caught him skimming through a textbook at lunch, he crossed his arms. “So, what’s the end goal here? Do you actually care about your grades, or are you just trying to impress someone? Even Misaki is not trying this hard.” Luca, mid-bite into his sandwich, nearly choked. “What, dude, I just don’t wanna flunk out of the prom!” Valentin didn’t seem convinced but let it slide.

Meanwhile... Misaki's version of tutoring, however, looked very different from Luca’s. Where Luca sat quietly in the library with Feli, Misaki was sprawled over a café table, doodling nonsense in the corner of their notebook while Valentin flipped through flashcards with the look of a man regretting every life decision that led him here. “Misaki, you need to at least pretend to try,” he said, rubbing his temple. “I am trying,” she groans: “Trying not to explode.” Valentin sighed: “Fine. If you answer three questions correctly, I’ll buy you lunch, we all know you would never say no that.” Misaki immediately sat up, eyes gleaming. “You should’ve led with that.” Valentin gave her a tired look: “Unbelievable.” Misaki answered the first two questions with relative ease. The third one, however, was met with a mischievous smirk. “If I get this one right,” she said, tapping their chin, “you have to admit that you like me.” Valentin blinked. “What?” “You heard me. If I’m right, you have to admit that you secretly like me. It's so obvious already dude” “That’s not, why would I, ...” He exhaled sharply, composing himself. “Misaki, just answer the question.” She gave the correct answer effortlessly, then leaned forward with a smug grin. “Well?” Valentin stared at her, looking equal parts exhausted and unimpressed. “I am not playing your game.” “Oh, but you are.” Misaki grins as she leans closer “And, V, you’re losing.” He tries to calm himself down, simply taking a slow sip of his coffee as if that would block out her presence: "Now get back to that work sheet." Misaki only smiled wider. She still got her free meal and basically survived on that for nutrients every time she studies with Valentin, trying to save money for "reasonable" purposes.

… As days passed, Feli found herself looking forward to their study sessions. Luca didn't treat her like she was a fragile girl and never hesitated to tease her, and always filled the space with an easy and bright warmth that's easily contagious. She wasn’t used to that. Maybe, just maybe, she started to enjoy his company a little too much. One evening, they were reviewing math problems when Luca went quiet. Feli looked up from her notes and found him slumped over, head resting on his folded arms, completely knocked out. His breathing was slow and steady, his expression peaceful for once without his usual grin. She stared for a moment longer than necessary. Luca's usual boundless energy was gone, replaced by the steady rise and fall of his breathing. His head rested on his folded arms, his messy hair spilling over his notebook with the pencil still loosely gripped in his fingers. His face, usually lit up with mischief or exaggerated expressions, looked peaceful in sleep, unguarded, soft, maybe even cute? Feli just sat there, taking him in. For all his teasing and recklessness, he had worked hard for this. Harder than she and anyone expected. And despite how often he made her sigh in defeat, she couldn't deny it, he'd grown on her, and the roots are starting to reach her heart. A small smile tugged at her lips. “Gosh, you silly,” she whispered “Did you stay up to study again?” Luca didn't respond, of course, just shifted slightly, his hair catching the warm glow of the library’s light. Her fingers twitched. Before she could stop herself, she reached forward, hesitating just above his golden curls. Would he wake up if she touched them? Would they feel as soft as they looked? Her heart picked up speed. Carefully, she leaned in, her gaze flickering to his face. His lips were slightly parted, his expression vulnerable in a way she rarely saw.

Closer... And closer... Her breath caught as she tilted forward, just enough to... BANG! The library doors slammed open. “Move, move, move!” Ronin came barreling inside, nearly knocking over a chair in his rush. Feli jolted back so fast she almost tipped her own chair over, her pulse hammering in her ears. Across from her, Luca stirred, mumbling something but remained asleep. Feli pressed a hand over her chest, trying to calm her heart down. Ronin, meanwhile, had no clue he had just ruined a moment. Ronin spotted them and immediately dove behind their table, crouched behind it like a soldier diving for cover “What the..?” Feli started, but then the doors banged open again. Valentin stormed in, scanning the room like a hawk. “Where is he?” Feli blinked, feigning innocence. “Who?” Valentin narrowed his eyes: "Gosh I don't have time for this, tell him that if he ever waste my time before a meeting like this consider the prom over for him." He shot one last glare around the library before turning and leaving. A silence moment passed. Ronin peeked out. “...Think he bought it?” Luca, still half-asleep, mumbled: “No one ever buys it.” Feli facepalms herself, whatever moment she’d almost had? Ruined.

After weeks of preparing, it was time to put their effort to the test. Luca tapped his pencil against the desk, eyes flicking between the clock and his paper. His leg bounced under the table. Five minutes left. Across the room, Feli looked at him, worried, hoping he could calm down. Meanwhile, Misaki sat hunched over their test, gripping their pencil like a lifeline. “I studied this,” she muttered. “Why does it look like hieroglyphics?” She glared at V, who was calmly writing. "This is your fault" she thought bitterly. “Time’s up,” the teacher called. Luca’s stomach dropped. Misaki groaned like they’d been sentenced to death. ... Althought the test was bad, the waiting phase was somehow worse. Luca flipped between confidence self and a man having an existantial crisis. “What if I thought I did well but actually bombed?” Feli sighed. “Then we burn your textbooks and live in the mountains.” Luca smiles. calming down for a bit: "We? Does that mean we'll go together?" ... Misaki, on the other hand, won't leave the poor president alone. “Are you sure I passed?” “Eighty percent sure.” Valentin sighed “WHAT HAPPENED TO A HUNDRED?!” Valentin looks at her, his face flat as usual: “You either passed or you didn’t, Misaki. Freaking out won’t change it one bit.” “I’m haunting you if I fail.” "I'll get some holy water in case then"

…

The morning of the test results felt heavier than usual. Luca stood in front of the bulletin board, staring at the list of scores before he finally found his name. His breath caught. “I… I passed?” He blinked in disbelief, as if the letters and numbers might rearrange themselves if he decides to look away. Turning to Feli, he searched her face for confirmation that this was real. She pats his shoulders: “Of course you did. I didn’t spend all those hours tutoring you for nothing.” For a split second, Luca didn’t know what to do with himself. Then, without thinking, he grabbed her and lifted her into a tight hug. “You’re the best, Feli!” She let out a startled squeak, struggling for balance. “Luca - put me down!” Meanwhile, Misaki had a completely different approach. The second they saw their own passing score (though barely), she launched at Valentin: “V, my savior!” they cried dramatically, throwing their arms around his shoulders and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. Valentin froze. His entire soul left it's body for a moment. “I, what, Misaki, ...” He flailed, ears turning slightly red. “You, please, personal space...!” Misaki just grinned. “You love me.” The excitement over test results quickly shifted to another hot topic: prom dates. This topic came by when the group was at a cafe, celebrating the after-test. Luca asked: "Well Angel, who is lucky enough to dance with the popular girl?" She groaned, rubbing her temples: “I don’t even care at this point. My locker is full of letters from people I don’t even know. I could open a freaking post office.” Ronin laughs, nudging Angel: “Oh? And here I thought you’d hold out for some rich prince charming.” Angel rolled her eyes. “Yeah, no. I need a break. You know what? Screw it. I’m going with you. You won’t be annoying, and I know you won’t pull any weird romantic stunts.” Ronin smirked. “You underestimate my flair for the dramatic.” Angel sighs: “Done. We’re going together. I can finally live in peace.” Misaki, overhearing this, turned to V with a mischievous glint in their eyes. “Well, since I already kissed you today, might as well make it official. V, be my prom date, pretty please?” V let out an exhausted sigh but didn’t argue. “Fine. I'll go with you, as a supervisor for any stunts you might pull. Just, don’t cause another disaster, please.” “No promises.” Misaki smirks playfully. That left Luca and Feli. They exchanged glances. Between tutoring sessions and trying not to fail, neither of them had time to talk to anyone else. Luca rubbed the back of his neck. “So, uh…” Feli raised an eyebrow. “I guess we’re going together too? Someone also needs to keep check on you that day.” A pause. Then Luca grinned. “Guess so.”

…

As prom day drew closer and closer, the entire university buzzed with excitement, and also desperation. The hallways were filled with whispers, confessions, and last-minute plans. Students who had been too cool to care a week ago were suddenly scrambling to find dates. The popular ones treated it like a battlefield, strategically picking partners that would boost their social standing. Others, less concerned with status, took a more chaotic approach with some holding up cardboard signs asking for dates, others writing “WILL YOU GO TO PROM WITH ME?” on whiteboards during class, hoping for a glimpse of hope. “Promposals” happened everywhere. Flowers, handwritten letters, even a flash mob that went terribly wrong when a dancer tripped and took down half the cafeteria. Meanwhile, those already found their date walked around with a smug sense of security, watching the chaos unfolds like royalties Angel, watching yet another nervous confession take place by the lockers, sighed at Ronin: “This is starting to feel like a survival game.” Ronin chuckles: “Yeah, except instead of death, you just end up awkwardly third-wheeling at prom. Is that another one trying to invite the grand 'Ice Queen' Valeria again? Poor kid.” Luca and Feli, having already decided to go together, were technically safe from the madness. “You sure you don’t wanna trade up?” he teased Feli while watching someone dramatically kneel with a bouquet nearby as if it was a wedding. She rolled her eyes: “Too late. You’re stuck with me.” Luca grins. “Lucky me then.” The day of prom had finally arrived… Luca and Ronin stood in front of a mirror, adjusting their suits. Luca wore a classic black one with a white undershirt, with a tie that looks already loosened like he had no intention of keeping it neat. Ronin, on the other hand, had fully committed to his usual “devil may care” look, his suit sharp and slightly undone, a deep red undershirt, and, just for fun, a small silver pin shaped like horns attached to his lapel. He looked like he was about to walk into a deal with the devil and definitely has no intention of losing. Luca struggled with his tie, groaning: "Why is this thing impossible?" Ronin, adjusting his own effortlessly, shot him a side glance. “It’s a piece of fabric, man.” “Yeah, well, this piece of fabric is trying to strangle me.” Ronin snorted but didn’t bother helping, instead sitting down to comb his hair. He watched Luca fuss for a moment before suddenly speaking, his usual teasing tone gone. “So… you gonna confess to Feli tonight, or what?” Luca froze, hands still on his tie. He looked at Ronin through the mirror. “What?” Ronin shrugged. “C’mon, man. You two have been dancing around it for weeks. She clearly likes you. And you definitely like her. Do the math.” Luca opened his mouth, then closed it. “I don’t know, dude. What if...” “What if she says no?” Ronin finished for him. He sighed: “Luca, I don’t think she will. But even if she does, at least you’ll know instead of driving yourself crazy.” Luca swallowed, looking back at his reflection. “…You think it’s really that obvious?” Ronin smirked. “Oh, painfully obvious.”

Meanwhile… Angel carefully ran a brush through Feli’s hair, styling it to perfection. The soft lighting of the room gave everything a warm glow, and for once, Feli actually felt… excited. Nervous, but also excited. “You look great,” Angel said, admiring her work. Feli fiddled with the edge of her dress. “I hope so.” Angel caught her expression in the mirror and grinned playfully: “Thinking about Luca?” Feli nearly choked. “What? No!” Angel raised an eyebrow. “Mhm.” Feli sighs, defeated: “Maybe.” Angel set the brush down and looks at Feli through the mirror: “So… are you gonna confess?” Feli blinked. “Huh?” Angel tilted her head. “I mean, it’s obvious you like him. He’s an idiot, but a lovable one. If you don’t make a move, he probably won’t either.” Feli bit her lip, a sudden wave of nerves crashing over her: “I don’t know…” Angel gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder: “Look, whatever happens, tonight’s gonna be great. Just enjoy yourself. And if the moment feels right? Go for it.” Feli glanced at her reflection again, her heart pounding. Maybe tonight was the night.

…

Luca arrived first, trying to straighten his messy hair, already feeling out of place in his cleaned-up suit. Near the entrance, a beautifully arranged flower booth stood, brightly decorated. Cordelia, ever the businesswoman, was casually scamming students who had forgotten to buy flowers for their dates, and that means 90% of them. Her prices had already doubled since the doors opened, and yet, people are still willing to pay. Luca approached, smiling while looking at the selection: "Yo hi Cordy, business is 'blooming', I assume? "Of course dude. Looking for something special?" Cordelia asked, looking up from the forest of flowers in her shop. "Yeah, for Feli," he admitted, grinning. Luce, sitting beside Cordelia, smiled warmly and handed him a carefully crafted flower halo. “Forget-me-nots and baby’s breath,” she said, adjusting the delicate woven stems. “Subtle, but sweet. Good choice for a date night.” Luca chuckled, taking it. “You always know what fits people best.” “I pay attention,” Luce replied simply, tying a soft ribbon around another bouquet. As he paid (an absurd price, but he let it slide), Luca thanked them before heading off, halo in hand.

He turned at the sound of hurried footsteps, Feli, looking stunning yet nervous, approached him: “Hi Luca!”

Luca held up a flower halo. “Oh hi Feli, I got this for you. Thought it’d suit you.”

Feli blinked. “You did?”

“Yeah. Cordelia robbed me, but worth every penny.”

She placed it on her head. “How do I look?”

Luca grinned. “Like a fairy princess. But one that could kick my ass.”

Feli laughed, nudging him. “Idiot.”

Angel stepped forward, effortlessly elegant in a sleek, floor-length gown. She barely had time to admire Feli before catching sight of Ronin’s questionable choice in fashion. She groaned, rubbing her temples. “Ronin... What are you wearing?” Ronin smirked, completely unbothered. His suit, while sharp, definitely has little too much personality that screams the 'devil' vibe: “A masterpiece,” Angel closed her eyes for a moment. “I should’ve expected this.” Then came Valentin, dressed… exactly how he always dressed. A classic black suit, nothing fancy, nothing extra. Just the usual him, looking like he was going to a business meeting instead of a high school dance. Luca let out a sigh: “V, you could’ve at least tried to dress more, casual...” “This is dressing up, now where's Misaki?” he replied flatly. "She's already inside, making some quick buck from the commissions booth I think" Luca chuckled. "Always on their feet when it comes to money" Ronin commented before leading them into the prom.

Inside, a corner of the gym had been claimed by the art majors. Misaki, Eliora, and Cheri. The three had set up booths for quick commissions, each one reflecting their distinct styles. As the group approached the artist booths, Eliora barely glanced up from her sketchbook. She was in the middle of a rough, dramatic portrait with deep, raw pencil strokes bringing out the angles and expressions in a way that made everyone look just a little more intense than they really were. “Eliora, what are you working on?” Luca asked, tilting his head. Eliora smirked and flipped the sketchpad around. It was Misaki. Or rather, a Misaki who looked like they belonged in some gothic tragedy, sharp lines defining their tired eyes, their slightly messy hair drawn like a stormy cloud with an eerie expression. Misaki blinked. “Damn. Do I look that haunted?” “Yes,” Eliora said flatly, before adding, “In a fun way.” Misaki took the sketch and examined it. “This is kinda sick, though. I wanna keep it.” “Pay me first.” Eliora deadpanned, flipping to a new page. Misaki, on the other hand, took a more silly and chaotic approach, drawing people in ridiculous, exaggerated scenarios. A doodle of the principal riding a unicycle while juggling flaming textbooks sat proudly on display, earning occasional horrified glances from passing teachers and students. And then there was Cheri with his sign read in perfect cursive: "I draw you as an animal based on your vibe. $5. No refunds." The group wandered over, curiosity piqued. Cheri looked up, eyeing them with a sharp, knowing gaze. “Alright,” he mused, grabbing a piece of paper. “Angel’s obviously a swan, graceful, but terrifying when pissed.” Angel smirked. “I’ll take that.” “Luca, golden retriever. No question.” Luca grinned. “I mean… fair.” “Feli? A fox. Small, sharp, and a little menacing.” Feli crossed her arms but didn’t argue. Then Cheri turned to Ronin, his expression unreadable. He scribbled something down, then flipped the page around. A rat. With a tiny bowtie. Ronin’s mouth fell open. “A rat? You gave me a rat?” Cheri shrugged, entirely unbothered. “It fits.” Ronin grabbed the paper. “This is slander.” Misaki, counting her commission money beside them, snickered. “No, this is art.” Cheri barely acknowledged her before turning to Valentin. He studied him for a long moment, tapping his pen against his chin. “…A wolf,” he finally said, sketching swiftly. The final image was poised and elegant, fur carefully lined, with a piercing gaze that screamed leader. Valentin examined it and nodded, approving. “A solid choice.” “Of course it is,” Cheri said, flicking his pen away with a smirk. “I have impeccable judgment.” Misaki leaned over the table, grinning. “And me?” Cheri stared at her. Then, with no hesitation, he scribbled something down. He flipped it around. A possum. Hanging upside down. With crazed, wide eyes. Misaki burst into laughter. “Oh, that’s perfect.” Cheri grinned. “I know.” Valentin sighed. “We should move on before Ronin actually fights him.” Ronin, still glaring at his rat drawing, muttered, “I might.” Luca patted his shoulder. “C’mon, buddy. Let’s go get you some food before you start chewing through wires.”

The group wandered toward the food station, where the rich aroma of expertly crafted dishes filled the air. Unlike the chaotic energy of the prom, this corner was strangely refined with every plate arranged with precision and executed to perfection. At the center of it all was René Takahashi, the recent MasterChef winner, standing in her crisp white chef’s coat, arms crossed as she silently observed the crowd. Her sharp eyes tracked every bite, every reaction, every subtle shift in expression from those eating her food. She was analyzing, calculating, as if ready to stab anyone that talks bad about her cooking. Besides her, leaning casually against the counter, was Valeria Zalatoris, the school's infamous Ice Queen. Fabulously dressed, a cold smirk on her lips, she watched René watching the guests, amusement flickering in her gaze. Luca, already stuffing his face with something that tasted way too good, nudged Feli. “Okay, this is actually insane. Who knew school food could be this good?” Misaki, sipping from a tiny bowl of soup, nodded. “It’s better than anything I’ve eaten all year. The university really went all out for this event huh.” Angel, ever the social butterfly, approached the counter. “René, what’s the secret? How did you manage to make something this amazing in a school kitchen?” René responds immediately, voice as cool and composed as ever: “Technique and skill.” Before Angel could push further, Valeria leaned in slightly, a teasing smug on her face: “You should feel honored, you know. René almost didn’t take this gig. But I convinced her.” Angel sighs: "Really Vale, acting all mighty and smug about food?" Valeria didn't respond, instead she leaned in and pressed a quick, deliberate peck against René’s cheek: "What's wrong when I feel proud of my girl?" A beat of stunned silence followed. Luca choked. Feli froze. Ronin, mid-bite, just stared. Misaki, with perfect timing, muttered: “Wait. Hold on. What?” Angel was the first to recover. “You two are dating?” Valeria smirked, clearly enjoying in the reactions. “Oh? Was that not obvious? Not many people fit my type ya know.” “It was definitely not,” Valentin said, brows furrowed, still trying to process it. René sighed, rubbing her temple as if enduring this was the greatest hardship of her life: “…I wasn’t hiding it either” “You also never said it,” Feli pointed out. Valeria simply chuckled, eyes gleaming with amusement as she returned to watching René analyze her dishes. “Watching her work is my entertainment.” René shot her a look again, but there was a flicker of warmth beneath the cold exterior. The group, still processing, exchanged glances before Misaki shrugged. “You know what? Good for them.” ... From afar, Zack scanned the crowd, hunting for drama worth printing. Then, bingo. Valeria Zalatoris just kissed René Takahashi. His pen flew across the page: “ICE QUEEN & MASTER CHEF - SECRET LOVERS?” Gold. Pure gold. He could already see the headline: René’s Perfect Recipe—Is Love the Secret Ingredient? Noting that down, Zack goes back to scanning for more hot news like a hawk, often time wander his eyes over Angel, not that he would admit it.

… After a while, the group found themselves near the backstage area, where Micah sat lazily on a crate, tuning his guitar. He barely acknowledged them, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips, but when Cheri walked over, he exhaled a soft puff of smoke and flicked the cigarette away.

"You ready?" Cheri asked. Micah smirked slightly. "Always." Meanwhile, Serena leaned against a railing, arms crossed as she watched Ray fidget excitedly. The pop star, in all his flamboyant, glittering glory, was one tick away from exploding. His gaze was locked on someone across the room. Angel... The moment he saw her, his entire face lit up. “Serena,” he hissed, grabbing her arm. “She’s here. She’s real. Look at her!” Serena rolled her eyes and sipped her coffee. “Yes, congratulations, your favorite streamer exists in the physical realm.” Ray didn’t even hear her. He was practically vibrating. “Do I say something? Do I act cool?” “You’ve never been cool a day in your life.” Ray gasped, offended. “Serena...” Angel blinked, processing Ray’s reaction. Ray Zalatoris, the rising pop star, was her biggest fan? “…Wait. Hold on. You’re my number one stream fan? I always thought it was one your fan or something.” Ray beamed, practically shimmering with excitement. “YES! I watch all your content! Your takes? Flawless. Your editing? Cinematic. Your humor? Unmatched.” He clutched his chest dramatically. “Angel de la Rosa, I am humbled to be in your presence.” Angel just stared, speechless: “Dude. You’re, like, literally famous.” “And you are iconic!” Ray insisted. The group burst into laughter, while Serena just groaned. “I deal with this daily.” “Okay, okay,” Luca smirked, pulling out his phone. “We need proof this happened. Group pic.” They huddled together, Ray still visibly starstruck when Luca snapped the photo. Angel, still processing, gave an awkward thumbs-up. “Legendary,” Ray murmured, staring at the picture like it was sacred. Meanwhile, Cheri casually leaned toward Micah. “You’ll kill it up there,” he said, voice softer than usual. Micah gave a rare smirk. “I always do.” Then, without warning, he kissed Cheri on the cheek before returning to his guitar. Cheri froze. The others had already started leaving, but Feli caught the way Cheri just stood there, blinking, hand hovering near his cheek. “…Shut up,” Cheri muttered before she could say anything.

As the group move out of backstage, the chatter in the gym begins to settle as the lights dimmed slightly, signaling the official start of the event. A spotlight hit the stage to reveal Vince, the ever-jolly geography teacher and Ai Hua, the chemistry teacher who has been tirelessly shipped with him, as they stand in front the podium as the night’s MCs. Vince smiled bightly at the crowd: “Ah, prom night. A moment to celebrate youth, love, and the beauty of- ” Ai Hua lightly elbowed him. “Keep it short...” Vince chuckled. “Right, right. Welcome, students and teachers, to the university’s first ever Valentine's prom! Whether you’re here to dance with your loved, eat the amazing food, or just simply bathe in the moment, we hope this night becomes a cherished memory, like a breathtaking sunset over the horizon.” Ai Hua sighed but continued smoothly. "For tonight's event, we have worked very hard to plan an amazing lineup for everyone. To start the night, let's give a cheer to a rising star, who will surely blast your socks off!" Vince gave a dramatic call out "Ray Zalatoris!!!" The stadium erupts with excitement and shouting, ready for a unforgettable night.

As the lights dim and the crowd goes silent, the slow yet powerful bass started its magic, pumping everyone with anticipation before an electrifying guitar riff sliced through the silence.

Micah, cool and collected as ever stood front, his fingers practically gliding through the strings while the drumline kicked in, full of energy and power that makes everyone wants to start moving.

Then, Ray walks out dramatically, claiming the spotlight for himself. Dressed in a flamboyant outfit, he starts to rock the place with his voice, fueled by the clash between rock and pop.

Ray, vibrant and expressive as ever, dances with the rhythm like it was his muse. Micah on the other hand stayed silent, letting his guitar do the talking while hit band lit up the place. Together, they created a sound that was both raw and thrilling, shaking the entire place.

The crowd lost it as everyone starts to sing along, hands in the air, all pulled into the explosive performance. Even the aloof chef founder herself nodding to the rhythm, the energy too infectious to resist.

From backstage, Serena smirked, sipping her coffee and nudging Cheri: "Our boys really got this place on fire." With their performance coming to an end, Ray let out a final note, letting Micah finish it off with a flaming guitar solo, ending with a elegant flick of his pick to the audience.

As soon as the final chord is struck, the audience stayed silent, but only for a few secs. The applause soon erupted as the entire place was overwhelmed with cheering and clapping, the students' hearts still full of adrenaline. With a smile on his face, Ray shouted: “For those that needed their heart rates increased, I hope that ticked all the boxes. But the night's still long darlin', and this is just the start."

The night soon unfolds into activities after activities, each more ridiculous and sillier than the last.

…

Misaki approached a dart booth with absolute confidence, spinning one between their fingers like some kind of prodigy. “Wanna bet I win on the first try?” she asked, her smirk glowing with mischief. Luca laughs: “Yeah, sure. If you hit a bullseye first try, I’ll, I don’t know, buy you something from René's kitchen.” Misaki grinned, took aim, and, THUD!!! Dead center... Luca’s soul left his body, his jaw dropped so hard it nearly hit the floor. Misaki patted his shoulder, feigning sympathy: “I would like steak, by the way.” Luca groaned, facepalming himself: “I’m never making bets again.” Meanwhile, Ronin, watching from the side, took a dart, launched it confidently, before missing half an inch from the guy running the booth. "Please leave..."

…

During the night, the stage mic was on for people who want to share memories are do stand-up comedy. Vince, ever the opportunist, took it upon himself to seize the moment it was free. “Ah, the beauty of a sunset...” he began, gripping the mic like he was delivering the speech of his life: “The way the golden shining orb kisses the horizon, the fleeting embrace between day and night...” The crowd murmured in confusion. “Is this… part of the event?” someone whispered. Angel, sipping her drink, shook her head. “Nope. That’s just Vince being Vince.” Luca, grinning, leaned over to Feli. “Think he’s gonna bring up his wife next?” “Absolutely” Feli replied. And sure enough... “And you know, my wife and I once watched a sunset so beautiful, I nearly cried.” Before he could continue, Ai Hua appeared out of nowhere, grabbed his arm, and yanked him offstage. “Okay, okay, that’s enough,” she sighed. “But love-” “Vince, let the kids have their prom.”

…

The group stumbled a “Silhouette Guessing Game” hosted by the council members with the vice president Eric, who looks like he clearly isn’t paid enough for this. He was part chaperone, part problem solver, part exhausted from helping everyone.

When they arrived, they saw Vince dramatically stepping onto the stage.

“I volunteer!” the geography teacher announced with far too much enthusiasm.

Eric blinked. “Okay… uh, step behind the screen please.”

Vince eagerly positioned himself, his silhouette now visible against the backlight. The crowd squinted, whispering guesses.

“Too tall to be Feli.” “Not lanky enough to be Ronin.” “Wait, is that a—”

His iconic frog hat sat nicely on his head, the two oversize eyes that gave the vibe of mickey mouse’s ears showed clearly.

“It’s VINCE.” “Please take off the hat...” “A true artist never sacrifices their vision for the masses.” Vince shouted from behind the screen.

Ai Hua, already done with the nonsense, yanked him out: “You are embarrassing yourself, and me.”

… Zack, with his arms crossed, is still scanning the crowd for the next big news. Kat, ever the chaos gremlin, slid up beside him with a knowing smirk. “You always watch from the shadows, huh?” she asked, tilting her head. “Like some brooding antihero in a tragic novel.” Zack barely spared her a glance: “I’m working. People need their fill of drama.” Kat gasped: “Work? At prom? Zack, you wound me. Where’s your sense of fun?” Zack scoffed. “Where’s yours?”

Kat leaned in, eyes twinkling: “Oh, honey, my fun comes in layers. Like an onion, or a really emotionally complex lasagna.” For the first time, Zack actually looked at her, confused: “What?” Kat shrugs: “Point is, you spend so much time watching people live their stories, but when’s the last time you wrote your own?” Zack hesitated, and Kat took the chance to flirt: “You know, if you ever wanna stop being a mysterious newspaper cryptid and experience a little romance…” She placed a hand on his shoulder, whispering: “I promise I’m an excellent protagonist.” Zack rolled his eyes, but the faintest smirk tugged at his lips. “I’ll pass, no one is competing Angel in my eyes.” Kat grinned: “For now.”

…

As the upbeat music faded and the lights dimmed, and the atmosphere softened, casting a warm glow over the gym. The first notes of a slow, dreamy tune hummed through the air, and the room shifted, laughter settling into quiet smiles, chaotic movement turning into gentle sways. One by one, couples found their partners for the dance. … Ronin smirks, pretending like he wasn’t nervous: “So, do I have to lead, or are you gonna bully me into following?” Angel rolled her eyes but let herself be pulled in. “You better not step on me.” Ronin scoffed, adjusting his ridiculous devilish red-and-black suit. “Please. I’m surprisingly graceful.” She raised an eyebrow. “Oh really?” To her surprise, he was. There was no fumbling, no awkward tripping. He led with ease, his grip steady but relaxed. ... Misaki wobbled in their heels, nearly tripping as she grabbed onto V’s shoulders.: “I told you I suck at this.” Valentin sighed: “And I told you to wear proper shoes.” “Where’s the fun in that?” She grinned at him: “Besides, you’re here to keep me from falling, right?” V exhaled heavily but tightened his hold, guiding her movements with careful precision. Misaki, still unsteady, leaned in mischievously. “Hey, V…” “No.” “You don’t even know what I was going to say!” “You were going to say I’m falling for you.” “…Damn. You know me too well.” V sighed again. “Just focus on not breaking your ankle.” ... Serena let out a long sigh, resting her head against Ray’s shoulder. “I’m too tired for this.” Ray hummed, swaying gently: “That’s fine. I can dance for both of us.” Serena rest against him: “You’re way too energetic.” Ray grins: “And you love it.” “…Debatable.” “Serena.” She sighed again: “Okay, maybe a little.” Ray beamed. ... Micah exhaled, flicking his cigarette away before lazily taking Cheri’s hand: “You’re lucky I like you.” Cheri smirked, pulling him closer. “You’re lucky I tolerate you.” Micah huffed, looking away, but his grip didn’t loosen. “You’re annoying.” “You’re insufferable.” “…I like you.” Cheri grinned. “I know.” ... Zack stiffly let Kat pull him onto the dance floor, arms awkwardly positioned: “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Kat smirked, dramatically twirling under his arm: “Oh, absolutely. What’s wrong, newspaper boy? Afraid you’ll actually have fun?” Zack sighed, trying to adjust his posture: “This better not end up in the paper.” Kat just smiled and gave him a wink: “No promises.” ... Luce grinned as Cordelia put on another flower crown on her head. “You just made me wear this so I’d match you, didn’t you?” Cordelia smirked. “Maybe.” Luce smiles: “Unbelievable. You’re forcing aesthetics on me.” She shrugged: “You look good in flowers. Just accept it.” Luce sighed, shaking herhead: “Fine, but if I start getting compliments, I’m giving you all the credit.” “I was going to take it anyway.” ... All eyes were on them. René Takahashi, the cold, untouchable MasterChef winner, dancing in Valeria’s arms? It didn’t seem possible, the scene looked too perfect, no excess movements and just pure beauty mixed with rhythm. Valeria traced a light finger along René’s cheek: “Careful, people might start thinking you have a heart.” René sighed, unimpressed: “I hate you.” “You love me.” “…Unfortunately.” Valeria smirked. “That’s my girl.”

René rolled her eyes but held onto her tighter. ... Luca was always a natural athlete, but dancing? That was a different story. Feli tried to guide him, but every few steps, he would stumble or awkwardly misjudge the rhythm. “Relax,” she smiled, adjusting her hold. “It’s just like a game. You follow my lead okay? Take a deep breath.” Luca groaned: “That sounds fake, but okay.” He focused, trying his best to move with her instead of against her. After a few more tries, he got it, somewhat. Feli chuckles: “See? Not so bad.” Luca huffed. “I still think I’m gonna step on you.” “Then don’t.” He grinned. “You make it sound so easy.” “Maybe it is.” ... Vince, still proudly wearing his frog hat, swayed with Ai Hua in his arms. “You know,” he spoke up “slow dances always remind me of sunsets. There’s this moment, right before the sun disappears, where everything turns gold and...” Ai Hua sighed and pressed a finger on his lips: “Vince, just dance.” Vince chuckles: “Yes, dear.” Meanwhile, Eric… Eric, after a long night of helping both teachers and students, finally had a moment to breathe. He sat at an empty table, watching the dance floor as he helped himself with a cup of coffee, enjoying the chaotic yet sweet scene unfolding.

Eliora, sketchbook in hand, glanced at him: “You look dead.”

“Feel dead,” Eric sighed: “Do you know how many people I had to stop from fighting over everything tonight?”

Eliora smirked, flipping to a blank page as she sat next to him. “Hold still. I’m gonna draw you as a tragic, overworked corpse.” “As if I don’t already look like one…”

… As the prom slowed down, people starts to move outside to escape the heat of the ballroom. Luca and Feli ended up near the school fountain, the midnight air brushing against their flushed faces. They stood in silence for a moment, still buzzing with leftover energy. Then, Luca took a deep breath, gathering every ounce of courage he had. “So, uh… I’ve been meaning to tell you something.” Feli raised an eyebrow: “Yeah?” He shifted his feet, took a deep breath before coming clean: “I like you Feli. Like, a lot, more than I can admit.”

Feli blinked, confused: “You’re just saying that because I didn’t let you fail math.” Luca let out an awkward laugh: “Okay, yeah, you did save my ass, but no, that’s not why.” She smirked: “Uh-huh...” “I’m serious! I’ve liked you since...” Before he could finish, he stepped back into… nothing. With a very graceful yelp, Luca lost his balance and tumbled straight into the fountain. A huge splash followed. Feli clamped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide before bursting into laughter. Luca groaned, blinking up at her through dripping wet hair: “Oh yeah, hilarious. Just letting my drown aren't ya?” Still laughing, Feli crouched by the edge, offering her hand: “Come on, you idiot.” Luca took it, only for Feli to miscalculate her strength and end up tumbling forward, landing right on top of him in the water. Now both of them were soaking wet. Luca coughed, trying to hide his blush: “Well. This is romantic.” Feli lifted her head, their faces inches apart: “…You’re so dumb,” Then, without hesitation, she leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. Luca froze completely. His brain shut down. When she pulled away, Feli smirked: “Guess I like you too dummy.” Luca’s mind finally rebooted: “Wait... WAIT, WHAT?!” Feli, already climbing out of the fountain, flipped her wet hair: “Come on, loverboy. Let’s get us a towel before we die of embarrassment.” Luca scrambled after her, still flustered but grinning like an idiot. If falling for her was this chaotic… he wouldn’t have it any other way. As they stepped onto dry ground, Luca shook himself off like a wet dog, sending droplets flying everywhere. Feli gasps, shielding herself: “Luca, stop!!” “That’s what you get for laughing at my pain.” She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “You’re impossible.” “Yeah, but I’m your impossible now.” Luca smirked Feli opened her mouth to fire back, but then Luca grabbed her hand, lacing their fingers together like it was the most natural thing in the world. She blinked, heart skipping. “…Fine,” she blushed, squeezing his hand back. “I guess you are.” As they walked back toward the ballroom, both dripping wet and shivering from the cold wind, the music from the prom played softly in the background. Somewhere inside, Angel is probably doing a stream. Misaki and Ronin are definitely causing trouble while Valentin tries to stop them. But right now, none of that mattered. Right now, under the clear night sky, Luca and Feli were just two idiots in love. And it was perfect...

[jokerislandgirl32]

Hammerheads, Or …The Episode Where Zach Had His Period

Okay, so this is just a little headcanon dump based on observations I made the first time I watched Hammerheads. In this post I will be discussing trans Zach and menstruation/periods, so if this upsets anyone please let me know, I do not mean to cause any harm or hurt to anyone who is trans by making these observations. 

If anything you read is hurtful or harmful to you as a trans person, please feel free to dm me and tell me. Just do so politely, please, I’m truly not trying to cause harm with this post. If anything I wrote is inaccurate, feel free to let me know and I can adjust it, or if it’s downright triggering for you, I will be happy to delete the post.

You can find the rest of the post below the cut ⬇️

My reasoning for this headcanon is honestly the way he’s acting throughout the episode…he’s like me when I’m having my cycle (for my fellow period acquaintances can we all agree they are awful, please tell me it’s not just me)…so this post is considering the possibility that Zach is trans and is enduring…the many joys…of a moon cycle. 

The first thing that I notice about Zach in this episode is that he’s binge eating cookies for over half of his screen time in the episode. And they are not just any cookies, these are cookies with chocolate on them, and from the looks of it half of the chocolate is dark chocolate.

I can’t say it’s helped me or anyone I know who has a period, but I’ve heard dark chocolate can alleviate the pain associated with cramping, and if that is the case, Zach may be experiencing cramps, and he’s trying to dull the pain with a comfort food. 

And, he can probably go through phases in his cycle where he’s eating everything in sight. So, the fact that he’s chowing down on a whole box of cookies makes complete sense to me. Then there is his reaction when the box falls to the ground, crushing and soiling the cookies.

Now, we all know Zach’s a dramatic little guy, but his reaction is over the top dramatic, even for him. The man shoves the tattered remains aside and then flops over in his chair in complete devastation….ummm, you good, Zach? 

When going through a cycle, one’s emotions can be all over the place. So, if Zach really wanted those cookies, and he didn’t get to eat them, having a little hissy fit over the loss of them is not out of the question if his period is wrecking havoc on his body and mind. 

Next, I bring your attention to his body language throughout the episode. Zach is historically known for his lazy behaviors: not wanting to move much and having the Zachbots carry him around, but his movements and actions feel a bit off to me. He is moving and acting as one who is guarded in their actions, namely, one who is in discomfort. 

Of all the screenshots I compiled of Zach from this episode I only have about 10 out of 93 where he is standing straight up. In all the other screenshots, he is either sitting or leaning over/against something. And even when he is sitting and leaning his body language seems tensed. 

While he’s sitting in his hover chair eating his cookies, one of his hands is almost always shown gripping the seat, which seems like another clear indicator of him trying to deal with his pain. 

In the scenes where he’s watching the Zachbots be equipped with their hammerheads, and he’s taking them out to breakdown the Tortuga’s door, he is almost always leaning over a railing. He seems to be holding on with both hands tightly, for pain management, perhaps…and his stance itself seems strange to me because Zach’s usually very straight or angular in his movements/body language. 

Here it’s like he’s curling in on himself, almost trying to get into something of a minor fetal position (I can’t speak for everyone, but again this is something I do/people I know do when cramps are bad because it does bring relief). 

So, maybe I’m overthinking this situation, but from my experience, and from his unique behavior in this episode, I just think Zach was having a horrific cycle. And yeah, that’s it, thanks for coming to my TED Talk. 

And again, if anyone is hurt by this, please let me know, it is not my intention to cause pain to anyone with this post. I may not personally headcanon Zach as trans, but if he is trans or others headcanon him as trans, I feel like this episode and his actions support this argument/headcanon. 

[o0o0thorn0o0o]

I love him I love him I love him I love him I love him I

Did I mention I love him? Haha, but yeah, I adore Hinata. He’s just so babyyyyyy. And every once in a blue moon, I get in this random mood just obsessing over him… which doesn’t last long because there’s, like, no new content, ackkk. I’m just looking at the same stuff over and over again ;~;

So… why not make some? I do get into bouts where I really do want to draw him but not anything substantial since I have other planned artworks. So I decided to draw the bab on his birthday… last year… but those two super late IH posts took up my time… But, yeah, can do that now, finally! (It’s still the 23rd somewhere in the world… Like, Hawaii, at least, I think. Though, I’m still very much cutting it close ^^;;)

You’ll see him pop up every now and again on this blog, but also, there’s another reason I really wanted to post about him, too. See, I made this OC back in middle school who is still very much an active one rn—it’s just, middle school me was shameless and she based him heavily on Hinata, eheh. And I wouldn’t wanna post about my OC without posting about Hinata first. 

I’ll get around to posting about that OC plus his cast sometime in the future, but yeah, it’ll be pretty obvious which one I’m talking about when I do (plus, there’s another OC who is also heavily based on another character—shameless, like I said, eheh—but that one should be pretty obvious, too… Ig the whole main trio kinda has obvious-ish basis, but the third one isn’t as obvious (unless you know who the first OC is based off of, Ig) and he’s more superficially based off another character compared to the other two. That said, they’ve all developed very much into their own characters, mm hmm. It’d be… unfortunate if they didn’t, considering they’ve been in the works since middle school…

Anywho, one last OC-related tidbit! So, while I had based the OCs off of canon characters’ appearances, personalities, and interests, things like birthdays were just based off of the vibes my characters gave me. Which is super funny, ‘cause I never looked up Hinata’s birthday until last year to know when to draw him, and wouldn’t you know it? My OC’s birthday just happens to be a day before his, pffft. I just thought my OC gave off peak summer vibes, so July was the obvious month. And he also seemed like he’d fit an identical double digit birth day, and he’s definitely more of an even than an odd. So… yeah, what a coincidence p, eheh. Ig it’s a really fitting birthday for this kinda character, eh?

Back to Hinata, though. I have very mixed opinions about maid-sama as a whole (I… rant about it every so often…), and I never thought about reading the manga… but I got desperate for Hinata content, so… yeah, I read the whole thing just for him. It was… painful at times… But it was worth it for him… I’ve got so many screenshots, eheh. That said, I don’t plan on ever revisiting it (if I want to revisit anything, it’d probably be the anime, and then, only certain episodes y’know, the ones featuring Hinata, cough, cough), but if I do, it’s to take every single screenshot of Hinata just so I never touch it again, haha. 

It’s so funny, though: Hinata’s not even one of my top five favorite guys (definitely top ten, though, but top five’s positions are set, while the rest of the five flip-flop), but I treat him a lot better than my favorite guys, pffttt. But… like… he’s so precioussssss…

Ahhhhhh, I wish there was more content for himmmm, ahhhhh…!

Anyway, I’m very much sleep-deprived rn, hence you get… all this… I’m too tired to be embarrassed at the moment; sorry, future me.