#and so on and so forth and breaking the numbers as little as possible before he hit 3 bc I loved how he swung me

[skoulsons]

oh man this scene. i don’t know I can’t stop thinking about it.

He’s exhausted. They gave him the wrong size headers at work, he forget their cake, and he’s home an hour late. But, he’s home. And he gets to be present with Sarah and enjoy the rest of their night, and what’s left of his birthday, together (well until Tommy calls him in an hour) Side note-Joel being excited about her getting him a present had me thinking he doesn’t earn a lot. That he just gets enough to allow them to get by. Now, this is ‘03 and he’s a carpenter. I don’t know what their pay would be back then, but I imagine it wasn’t too too much. At least, not enough for a lot of extra for gifts for Christmas or birthdays. Maybe this is a terrible assumption, but it’s my two cents

But after long day he just gets to be with her. There’s probably been some nights he’s come home and she’s asleep already and he stays up for a while watching tv or doing taxes or something. By himself. Maybe he’ll slip into her room and kiss her goodnight, but it’s not the same as a night like this. They get to spend it in each others company, laughing and making jokes.

he jus looks so sweet here :( “because I’m an honest thief” “mmm”

And this. “And you were never gonna do it for yourself, so…” He knows she’s right. He’s a tired dad. A tired, single dad. He can’t do everything. And Sarah’s right, it’s the thought that counts. Something small like fixing his broken watch is non-existent on his list of things he needs to do. But Sarah can tell he needs it, considering how he instinctively slapped his wrist at breakfast. She doesn’t buy him anything new or shiny, just fixes up a broken watch. She helps give him something that he won’t himself

And just gets to relax with a fixed watch, a favorite movie on the television, and his little girl tucked in to his side. Little things that, to him, mean the absolute world. And then some.

And she, inevitably, falls asleep on him and he gets to carry her to bed. Again, something he may not get to do often (and man if I was a dad I’d delight in carrying my kids to bed. I’d cherish every second of it, but maybe that’s just me). Sure he has to go out and bail Tommy out of jail now, but he got a worthwhile hour on his birthday with her

[sugurouge]

— taste of the divine : getō suguru x f!reader

content warnings! DARK CONTENT, forced marriage, kidnapping, mind break, heavy manipulation, dubcon, breeding/pregnancy talk, misogynistic topics, torture (isolation & darkness), conditioning, pet names (love, little dove, good girl), depression, stockholm syndrome

summary: Set out on the honourable task of finding the right wife for their leader, Getō's followers have abducted a special sorceress to bear him children that will carry on his will and legacy. Unfortunately, unlike your rather promising lineage, your temper and beliefs are anything but befitting for his wife. But not to worry, there are many ways to reshape a person. You will learn. Of that, Getō is sure.

❝ la sensualité de ton regard, la fragilité de ton corps. je brise ta pureté. deux âmes s'emmelent pour l'éternité. ❞

wordcount: 3.5k | my kinktober masterlist

by clicking read more you are agreeing to consume dark content. don't interact if you cannot differentiate fiction from reality.

Never have you felt as objectified as you do in this very moment: the lustful, piercing stares of Geto’s countless followers bore through your clothing as you are thrown before him—a man you know all too well from hushed whispers and dark stares within the Jujutsu Society. He is the enemy, a lost man.

The white robe they forced upon you, a mockery of a bridal attire, does you no favours. They made sure to leave nothing to Geto’s imagination: he should easily see how thoroughly they searched for a perfect fit when they took you.

And yet, somehow, he doesn’t even acknowledge your presence—not once does he seem to look at you, unlike everyone else in the room.

That is the first blow to your pride.

Then, there’s the way they speak about you as if you are not even there. Coming from a prestigious, ancient sorcerer family, your bloodline offers Geto everything he could possibly desire, all he could ever need from his perfect breeding vessel to bring forth some sort of prince to revolutionise the world. Indeed, they say, you are perfect.

“That monster will not lay a hand on me!” Your fighting spirit is adorable. But nothing could have prepared you for the sudden, heavy impact landing on your cheek. Geto can’t hide his chuckle at your shocked reaction. Did you truly expect to insult him in a room full of his most loyal men? They would never hesitate to put you in your place before continuing their praises of their great Geto-sama.

Strike number two followed so quickly, it made your mask crumble. The frustration becomes a thrilling decor on your face as you continue to hold your bruised cheek. There is so much hatred in your eyes—Geto looks forward to replacing it with fear. You will learn your new place, he is sure of that. You will love to obey him, to bear him children that will carry out his will and create a society of the promised.

Yet, Geto appears to hold not the slightest bit of interest for you, no desire found in those deep purple hues you nearly drown in.

He knows he needs to play this game wisely. He can’t have a woman at his side who despises him, can’t risk the danger of a mother who would rather kill her children than let the riders of his apocalypse trample the grounds of this world. You need to fall for him, have to desire him. For that, your strong-willed mind has to be broken, to turn you into the most ethereal sacrificial lamb the Jujutsu Society has ever known.

With a softly spoken command to "leave us," the room empties. His followers depart swiftly, their obedience causing you to frown. How can they submit to a demon like him?

A demon—that’s what he is to you. Dangerous, devious, twisted—yet alarmingly beautiful. As he approaches, the air seems to catch in your throat, and, of course, Geto notices the heavy swallow you're forced to take.

Is this the moment he’s going to claim you? Right here, in this dreadfully cold room, surrounded by an atmosphere of adoration for his sick schemes? Your body instinctively leans back, shrinking away beneath his stare. You already appear so submissive. He doesn’t trust it.

Standing tall with feet planted firmly on the ground, Geto looms above your kneeling figure. You didn’t expect the shiver that crawls over your skin as your eyes meet his. It’s as though he has flipped a coin and donned a different personality: one of intimidation and something darker, something sick. He might kill you on the spot if you speak now.

Hence why your lips part, yet no words escape before you shut them once more. The nervousness clouds your mind, paralysing your thoughts as you waver between holding his gaze or looking away. You're already caught in his web.

"Learn to love your new home," he says—the only words he speaks before leaving you alone.

The man you expected to force himself upon you, to bruise you, to scar your body and mind—he never touches you. He never seeks you out, never again meets your gaze. Your first night welcomed you to a life of isolation. You can only cling to the sticky feeling of fear that attaches itself to your new daily existence around Geto’s presence.

𓍯𓂃

Every day, you are expected to be part of his reception, dressed in fine clothing, your hair styled in ways befitting your title. Yet, despite this, you are forced to kneel, your forehead touching the ground, just like all his followers. You have reluctantly accepted this role after spending your first weeks locked away in a tiny room, with barely any light or kindness to sustain you. 

During those weeks, you never once met your 'husband'. He refused to be bothered by your disobedience, unconcerned with the punishment his most trusted men inflicted upon you. 

It all played perfectly into his hands, as you began to believe these men to be far worse monsters than Geto could ever be. After all, he never laid a hand on you, never tortured you, never dragged you into the dark dungeons until you began seeing things. 

After months of this twisted game of escape within his temple, with only his henchmen for company, he finally deemed you broken in. No one had ever lasted this long under his torture before. He might have even said he was impressed by your willpower. But that strong-willed part of you was gone the moment Geto finally decided to free you from the darkness. 

He may never forget the state he found you in: the hatred in your eyes shifting to relief upon seeing his face, your body worn down and weak from exhaustion, your fighting spirit crushed by the horrors your mind encountered in that cell.

You wanted to be saved by him. 

Deprived of human contact, kindness, touch, affection, you crave to be cradled in his arms. You want nothing more than to feel a hand pat your back, to be held tightly while you finally allow yourself to cry until you pass out. But the torture continued. Geto assumed it wouldn’t take much more to get you to eat out of his hand. So, for now, he shall continue this farce. He shall refuse to touch you since you aren’t fully ready to accept his love just yet. 

That much was clear since he could still catch you stealing glances towards the nearest escape route, no matter which room you were in. Until eventually, even with the doors unlocked, you no longer dared to look. You were too aware of what they would do to you if they caught you again. You couldn’t bear to be plunged back into the darkness, where the monsters you carried out of that room still haunted your sleep. 

So, you learned to listen, to bend in an attempt not to break, while your mind slowly began to fade. Geto loves this version of you. How you bow to him each time he passes, how your body stiffens at the mere sound of his footsteps, how your eyes search for him. What are you looking for? Have your resources finally run dry? Do you need him now? Need him to fill you with his love, his affection, and his seed? Geto can only admit to himself the joy he feels upon comparing this new you to the feisty thing you once were. It makes his desire almost unbearable, his cock heavy with the urge to pump into you until you give out, until you bless him with the perfect children. 

You should really stop clinging to your dignity and surrender yourself to him. 

Instead, you isolate yourself further. You behave, yes. You don’t act out, you don’t try to escape. You are now a perfect rule follower, much like a robot, little like a wife. But what else could he do but leave you space. He swore to contain himself. He’s not some monster that would hurt another great jujutsu sorcerer. Plus, he adores you too much.

But he does start to worry. Worry for the plans that will fail if you succumb to your depression and fail to cling to him for support, for purpose.

𓍯𓂃

Imagine the surprise Suguru tries to hide upon learning about the person standing in front of his most private chambers, seeking an audience at such a late hour. A defiant shadow of the woman you once were enters his haven—your hair loose and unstyled, a soft and tired expression gracing your beautiful features, and that delicate robe you chose to wear for him. Your guard is finally gone.

After another slumber filled with dark monsters and fears, you find yourself desperately searching for comfort and found yourself in front of these doors.

Suguru moves closer, tearing through the final walls you've erected around yourself. He didn’t expect you to break down merely from his acknowledgement of your presence. Was he too hard on you? He wonders, as gentle hues of purple try to solve the riddle in front of his eyes. The kind words of “You are so beautiful,” make your shoulders sag, they add a tremble to your bottom lip—a reaction Suguru hadn’t anticipated. His sudden gentleness feeds your depraved ego. Careful not to turn into a glutton. 

The smell of incense and sandalwood might just become your new favourite. The creamy sweetness blended with earthy undertones seems to be a comfort you didn’t expect once Suguru stands in front of you. The warmth of his palm, another trait you wouldn’t have granted him—you always expected him to be cold to the touch. Yet, as a hand lightly rests against your neck, you feel yourself melt.

To Suguru’s astonishment, you lean into his touch and let your eyes fall shut. This serene moment allows your mind to finally slow down thanks to the much needed human contact. For some reason, you feel safe, protected. 

You are so docile now.

Your eyes meet as Suguru tilts your chin upwards, leaning in until his forehead rests against yours, his fingertips tracing the contours of your neck and collarbones. “You’re empty,” he breaks the silence with a gentle voice. “Let me change that…” The tip of his nose nudges yours, soft lips graze your skin before trailing kisses along your jawline. “I can make you forget about your past struggle and give you a new purpose…” Your hand fists the fabric of his attire as an attempt to ground yourself, his affections have you hum in sugary content. “A purpose greater than you ever anticipated.” Suguru’s free arm finds rest around your waist, to stabilise your tired form against his chest while his mouth attaches to your neck, leaving kisses in its wake. 

“Give yourself to me, be mine forever,” his husky voice reaches your core, hits exactly where he wants to influence your body most as he whispers the words into your ear. Then he pulls back, to cradle your cheek while commanding you. “Look into my eyes, little dove.” He tilts his head, challenging you to focus on him, to finally speak, surrender. 

He needs to taint you, to finally shatter the perfect image you’ve been trying to uphold. “Let me save you.”

You can barely offer more than your pliant body, seemingly overwhelmed by his greed for you. “Save me, please,” the whispered words threaten to burn themselves into Suguru’s memory.

His fingers run over your shoulder, down to your chest and above your stomach. You feel hot beneath his touch, needy to be filled with life and love again.

The alluring touch reaches beneath your robe, between your soft thighs, allowing him to tease you through the fabric of your panties. The tip of his finger grazes the delicate area, soft moans escaping your lips as your hips push into his touch.

The moment lures you forward, to close the distance and have your shaky lips meet his in a searing first kiss. Who would have thought you were that starved? Naughty girl. But he happily leans into your guidance, kissing you without restraint, teeth tugging at your lower lip before his tongue pushes into your mouth, leaving you breathless and needy.

As you break away, your face finds refuge in the curve of his neck, sighing your pleas for “more…” against his warm skin. “Patience, love,” Suguru breathes, eliciting goosebumps to decorate your skin and a flood of pleas to cloud your mind. One of his fingers hooks under the silky fabric, tugging at it teasingly to let the cool air hit your pulsing heat before a single fingertip begins to tease your clit, then enters your clenching little hole.

Your moan is unholy, a sound so exquisite Suguru couldn't prepare himself for it. He won’t let you hide them. A finger redirects your face to force you to look at him and allow him to drown in your glazed eyes. The irregular huffs from your lungs warm his skin, as he loses himself in your irises. You’d kiss him again if not for the firm grip on your chin.

“I’ll make you feel good every night, as often as you need me,” the once-dangerous man promises, before showing you his mercy. His hands release you to finally tug at the overflowing fabric of your robe, exposing your heavenly form to his eyes. And yet, you don’t feel exposed, don’t feel shame anymore as you watch Suguru admire you. You’ve never felt so good.

“Undress me,” Suguru’s firm voice commands, though he seems so pliant, so soft. Let your rush of confidence guide you to close the distance again, let your fingers untie his robes and slip beneath the heavy layers. His eyes close upon your touch, almost as if he’s allowing you control. Leaning in, his temple rests against yours and strands of dark hair drape over your shoulder area while the fingertips that trace along your waistline already feel like home.

As you push the fabrics off his shoulders, you can’t help but explore Suguru’s built figure. The contrast between his skin and the richness of his hair, illuminated by the moonlight, makes him look almost innocent. You swear you feel him shiver as your fingertips thread through his hair, his shaky exhale dampening your skin. “So pretty,” you murmur subconsciously, upon which his eyes open, a newfound desire now pools in them. 

You don’t mind the blunt nails that dig into the plush of your ass, don’t mind being pushed back until your calves bump against his bed frame. Yet, he keeps drawing in, to fully push your figure up against him while cupping your face to kiss you again. Suguru’s hardness meets your stomach, tainting your skin with his pre-cum while seeking such teasing pressure. The thought of being inside you any moment now has turned him needy. He kisses you more erratically, lips crashing against yours until they nearly turn numb.

He guides your body to find comfortable rest on his mattress as he leans above you. There is a moment of pure adoration as your hands cradle his cheeks gently, before curious fingertips explore the flexing of muscles beneath the required force to hold himself up. His hand roams over your heaving chest, appreciating the form of your tits before trailing along your waistline and hip to take a firm hold of your inner thigh—parting your legs with ease to prod the head of his cock against your achingly ready hole.

Your eyes shoot up to him as he guides his length to run along your puffy lips, coating himself in your arousal and relishing the way your hips push against him. It’s too tempting not to push into you, especially when you roll yourself against the head of his cock, stretching your entrance around him ever so slightly and forcing a moan from Suguru’s lips. Your hands rest in the long strands of his hair and at the soft skin of his nape. Every fibre of your being lures him forward, pleading for him to make you feel complete.

He succumbs, leaning down to swallow your moans as he whispers, “Forgive me for my sins,” just a second before he sheathes himself deep inside you. You never expected to experience pleasure this intense upon your surrender; the stretch of Suguru’s cock a wicked reward that steals the last drops of sanity from your mind. Your lustful moans echo in the shared space between your bodies, and the chilly temperatures of the season make your panted breaths seem feasible.

“Finally,” you think you hear his breathless murmurs before he leans in again, lips latching onto your perky nipple while Suguru palms your right breast, gently squeezing your soft mound and rolling the nipple between his fingers. His teeth spoil—or rather, overstimulate—your left side, nibbling on the sensitive area until you whine and writhe beneath him, your hips pressing against his cock perfectly. How could he resist putting a little torture on you?

“You feel so good,” his words drip like honey into your ear. The tips of his hair and the trained muscles of his upper body brush against your figure, tickling and teasing your awareness as he sinks deeper to finally bottom out.

The addictive moan that escapes you leaves him no choice but to refuse to kiss you further; he doesn’t want you to cover up the sounds of pleasure he’s bringing forth. Instead, he redirects his mouth to nibble along your exposed skin, planting one love bite after another along your neck until he reaches your collarbone.

His world stops spinning when you moan his name—so shamelessly, so heavenly—that he could ascend right in this moment. “S-Suguru!” you plea, so smoothly, he can’t help but thrust harder into you. Your fingers drag over the duvet while he pulls his heavy cock out of your fluttering walls only to push back in. You cry in pleasure, praises to his name spilling from your lips as his hips roll against you. His hands securely grip your shaking form, holding you perfectly in place for his own selfish desires.

Your soft moans mix with his rich ones, creating the most beautiful harmony as your bodies share the deepest connection possible. Warm palms glide over your figure to take a firm hold of the back of your thighs and press them flush into your chest. His entire weight squishes you further into the mattress and allows for a reach that appears incomprehensible. The sudden intensity seems too much to bear; it makes you painfully aware of just how deep he is inside you. His thighs slap against your hips at a rapid pace, each thrust jolting your body against the mattress as his cock repeatedly hits your cervix.

By surprise, you hear him suck in a sharp breath as he witnesses the state he’s left you in: fat tears staining your cheeks as the mix of pain and pleasure leaves you unable to form coherent thoughts. You’re so perfect, perfectly submissive and ruined for him to rebuild.

Now, you feel his love, the adoration pooling in his dark eyes as he can’t seem to look away. Eager to witness every second of your pleasure. “So perfect, such a good girl for me,” he praises, his lips caressing your forehead to calm you down, while he continues thrusting into you with the same strength, speed, and desire. “Let go for me, give into pleasure,” he encourages, the clamping of your walls a telltale of what impedes. 

You barely manage to nod in agreement, moans and hiccups making it impossible to form coherent thoughts while Suguru knocks the air from your lungs. You whimper against his sweaty skin, your breath tickling his neck while your nails claw into his back. “‘S too much,” is your final warning before your walls tighten perfectly around him, and the coil in your stomach finally snaps.

With all this newfound love, he can’t resist breaking his little rule. Suguru seeks out your lips, hurriedly placing his own over yours—surely not to drown yours, most likely to cover his own—as he almost immediately follows your orgasm with his own. He thrusts all the way in, coming deep inside your fluttering walls, which practically milk him dry.

His hand slides from your thigh to gently press against your stomach, accentuating where exactly his length resides and his cum lands, praying that your womb savours every drop of his seed to hopefully turn fruitful.

Your bodies are close enough for your heartbeats to thump against each other’s skin, pants and whimpers stifled by the shared kiss as you both come down from your highs. “Don’t ever dare to leave me.” The words are nothing but a whisper as his lips return to spoil your body with kisses, but the intensity behind them makes your heart stumble. The loneliness he must have repressed since his days at Jujutsu Tech have ended something you never once considered before.

But now you are here. Here to stay with him, to be his family, his weakness and strength all at once and forever. He broke you just to hold you. Now let him make it up, forever.

dividers by @/cafekitsune

[orimuraa]

.❦ ݁˖ Cause I’m so stupid in love - Lee Heeseung

(synopsis) ೀ winning a ticket to an enhypen fansign was the craziest thing that had ever happened to y/n. but what happens when she accidentally catches the eye of her ult bias? 𑁍ࠬܓ

idol!heeseung x fan!reader ✧₊⁺ fluff, crack ✧₊⁺ oneshot ✧₊⁺ wc 3.2k ✧₊⁺ petnames, includes all of enha, a couple of ocs as y/n’s friends

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"OMG! GUYS I GOT IN!! I'M GONNA MEET ENHYPEN!!" y/n screamed to her best friends on the phone. for context, y/n has just won the raffle for an enhypen fansign and now she is going to meet them and her husband ult bias, heeseung. hanni, seojun, and yuri were y/n's closest friends and her number one supporters. there was no doubt that y/n was drop-dead gorgeous. you would have to be blind to say that y/n wasn't pretty. so when her best friends heard the news about her meeting enhypen, they immediately started to plan how they can make heeseung fall for y/n. seojun was like the older brother that y/n never had while hanni and yuri were like the two older sisters she never had. "GIRL YES!!! WE NEED TO PLAN RIGHT NOW!! meet us at the mall in 15 babes!" yuri screamed, immediately thinking of y/n's outfit.

when everyone arrived at the mall, they all started shrieking and jumping up and down in excitement, ignoring the weird stares they got. "okay so i was already thinking about your outfit while hanni was looking at makeup looks and hairstyles and junnie was planning what you're gonna say to everyone!" yuri exclaimed. as a fashion major, this is basically what yuri has been waiting for her entire career. to dress up her baby to go and meet her man.

the afternoon was filled with many giggles, lots of trying on stuff, and taking a small snack break to replenish their energy. in the end, y/n ended up with a baby blue dress with a white shrug, a pair of black, platformed, mary jane shoes, and a white miu miu bag. "and for your hair, i was thinking of two little heart buns!" hanni giggled. "ughhh you're literally gonna be IRRESISTIBLE! heeseung will definitely want you girl!" hanni added.

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it was the day of the fansign and y/n was beyond nervous. she kept walking back and forth in her room, going over what she's gonna say to everyone. her best friends had just left after doing her hair and makeup, and wishing her the best of luck. it was now 15 minutes before y/n would leave her apartment and go meet enhypen.

the car ride to the fansign was the most nerve-wracking ride y/n had ever taken. she decided to take a taxi instead of the metro system as it would take her directly to the spot. "thank you!" y/n thanked the driver and quickly payed before brushing out her skirt. with as much confidence as she could get, she walked into the building (i have little to no knowledge of how fansigns work so this is all based off of how i think they go, please bear with me) and carefully took notes of the interior. she was given a ticket for her place in the line that read, 15. oh my lord- i'm number 15!!! i really won the lottery y/n thought to herself.

15 minutes later...y/n was finally able to see the boys come out and sit down at the long table. she could feel her heart pumping like crazy at the mere thought of being able to go up and meet her all-time favorite group. when it was her turn, she anxiously sat down in the first chair. the first member was jungwon. "hello, what's your name?" he asked, his dimples being much cuter up close. "h-hi, i'm y/n. i've been a fan since i-land," y/n said nervously, not believing that it was even real that she was meeting her favorite leader. "pretty name! i'm so grateful for fans like you. i always love hearing how long certain fans have been with us!" he smiled, melting y/n's heart. "of course! people like you guys who are so talented should definitely get as much recognition as possible!" the conversation was brief but as y/n had to move onto the next members. being able to talk to everyone felt insane but now, she was more nervous then ever because she was now sitting in front of the last member, her bias, lee heeseung. as she sat down, she felt his soft gaze on her and anyone could've noticed how heeseung looked like he just saw an angel. "hi i'm y/n...you're actually my ult bias so i'm so sorry if i seem super nervous right now," y/n laughed nervously, and heeseung found it adorable. "pretty name for a pretty girl," he smirked and y/n immediately felt her face heat up. "i'm flattered that i'm your bias. i'm a lot of people's bias, but you are by far, and if not, the prettiest girl i have ever seen." he flirted, wearing that smirk that y/n knew well. he took her hand into his and y/n felt like she was floating. her ult bias, whom she has been stanning since pre-debut, is holding. her. hand. and calling her pretty. if that's not winning in life, y/n doesn't know what is. they spent the rest of their short time together chatting but never once letting go of each other's hands.

when the staff told y/n she had to move along, heeseung put on the cutest pout ever and promised y/n that they'll see each other again soon, and scribbled something down in her album.

of course, y/n thought that she would never actually meet heeseung again and that it would be impossible, but here she was, back at home, staring at the phone number heeseung had left her. hey pretty girl, i really enjoyed your presence and i want to get to know you better. text me when you can, ###-###-####. xoxo, heeseung. "oh. my. god." she whispered, being in too much shock to even speak properly. the lee heeseung, had just given her his phone number. scrambling to find her phone, she grabbed it and immediately opened messages, going straight to her group chat with her best friends to fangirl over this.

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heeseung was not able to focus on anything else after y/n had sat down in front of him. he tried hard to focus on the other engenes he was meeting but ended up drifting his thoughts back to y/n. he did feel guilty about it and when an engene brought it up, he made the excuse of a bit of fatigue and jet lag. however, once the fansign came to an end, all the members met up just to chat with each other how it went. "sooo...anything to share?" jake asked the group, wanting to hear the juicy gossip. heeseung looked away, not wanting to share anything about his encounter with y/n. "yeah actually! there was this super sweet girl who said she has been stanning us since i-land! she kept complimenting how far we've come and how we deserve all the recognition and stuff! i think her name was y/n?" jungwon explained, immediately catching the interest of heeseung. "oh my gosh yeah! she was so sweet! i was able to chat about layla with her without getting argued with how someone's dog cough gaeul cough is smarter than layla!" jake said, side-eyeing sunghoon who just rolled his eyes at him. heeseung started to zone out a bit about y/n again. what if the members like her as well? wait, do i even like her? i just met her! heeseung had a lot on his mind but the slight nudge of jay's arm brought him back. "dude, you alright? you've been strangely quiet since we finished," jay asked, concerned for his only hyung. "yeah, just tired i guess..." heeseung replied, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away. jay just shrugged it off and got in the van to go back to their dorms and relax.

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meanwhile, y/n had been panicking about whether or not she should text heeseung. deciding to woman up, and shoot him a text, y/n sat on her bed and carefully thought out her messege.

y/n: hey this is y/n from the fansign :) is this heeseung?

heeseung?: oh hey y/n! i was starting to think that you'd never text!

y/n had to put her phone down for a moment to truly believe that LEE HEESEUNG was texting HER.

y/n: ah sorry about that! i just got some time to relax and text you >.<

heeseung: no worries! i was actually wondering if you wanted to maybe hang out sometime?

y/n: but i might get you into a scandal :( here, call me now if you can to discuss

y/n soon felt her phone ring and had to take a few deep breathes before answering. "hey heeseung! so when were you thinking of and where? it's kinda hard to go somewhere without you getting spotted!" y/n joked, earning a slight chuckle from the man on the phone. "yeah...maybe you could just come over to the dorms and we can watch a movie? i just want to get to know you better," heeseung replied, his voice slightly distorted from the phone. "y-yeah that sounds fine. how about next week??" y/n asked, not being able to help herself from stuttering due to the fact that her and her ult bias, lee heeseung, are gonna hang out together. "sure! i'll send you the address. arrive at 10am next friday y/n!" heeseung exclaimed. and then, all y/n heard was the sound of heeseung hanging up the call. "god dammit y/n, what did you get yourself into??" she groaned, pulling at her hair a bit. in all honesty, y/n really wanted to go over, but she also knew that if anyone saw her enter their dorm or be seen with heeseung, it could very well ruin his career. deciding to make the most of the opportunity, y/n put those thoughts on hold and decided that she would just have fun with heeseung. she would be lying though if she said that she didn't find heeseung hot and didn't have a crush on him, but she also didn't want her hangout with him tomorrow to be awkward. little did she know, there was some mutual pining going on between the two of them.

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the week leading up to their hangout was filled with many texts and life updates between heeseung and y/n. the pair quick;y grew super close and now more than ever, couldn't wait to meet up again.

the morning of, y/n was up early, making sure she had everything in order and ready to go over to heeseung's. hanni, yuri, and seojun came over to hype her up again as she was feeling quite nervous. getting dressed and doing her hair and makeup nice and simple, y/n decided to pass time by just chatting with her friends until it was time for her to go.

finally, it was time for y/n to hop on the metro system and take it down to the enhypen dorms. the ride there was easy as she didn't need to transfer lines. making her way up the stairs, she found herself in front of the door with a 1009 on the door as the apartment number. knocking on the door gave y/n worse anxiety because she was not only entering her crush/biases living space, BUT enhypen's! her all-time favorite group. the sound of the door opening knocked y/n out of her thoughts and she suddenly felt her heart rate increase. "OH MY GOSH YOU'RE THE GIRL HEESEUNG HYUNG LIK-MJSBHGSHS!" y/n was immediately greeted with sunoo yelling, only to get tackled by jungwon, who was attempting to get sunoo to shut up. y/n just watched the two pocketz roll around on the floor when someone clearing his throat caused the pair and y/n to look up. there was heeseung, standing in the hallway, looking like he would absolutely murder the two on the ground. his eyes read, "we'll talk later. this isn't over." mkaing the two boys shiver a bit. "i'm so sorry y/n. please ignore these idiots and come inside!" and just like that, heeseung's whole demeanor changed when he was talking to y/n. she slowly stepped over the pocketz, who were still lying on the ground, and followed heeseung to his room. looking around, she could see framed pictures of all seven of them at award shows, music bank, and mv shooting places. there were also a couple trophies, and some random decor that made the place very homey. following heeseung into his room, she looked around and saw his room exactly like how she saw in the video where they showed off their new dorms. (ik they live on two different floors, so just pretend that all of enha was on the same floor hanging out together) the only difference was that it had a bit more stuff lying around and it was a lot brighter due to heeseung opening the curtains a bit. "woah, this is just like i saw in the video," y/n mumbled, mainly just talking to herself. she heard heeseung chuckle a bit and reply. "yeah..well, it's a bit messy..sorry 'bout that," he said while rubbing his neck sheepishly. "no no it's fine! it's actually very cozy," y/n smiles, and heeseung finds himself falling for her a little more.

the two ended up watching a movie together and y/n slowly found herself drifting off, surrounded by the comfort of heeseung's warmth and smell. heeseung felt a weight leaning on his shoulder and when he looked over, he saw y/n, peacefully sleeping and looking so adorable. he quickly positioned her into a more comfortable position and snuggled into her. i really shouldn't be feeling this way about a fan...but y/n's more than just a fan... he thought to himself.

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y/n woke up to someone's arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer to the mysterious person's chest. carefully, she looked over her shoulder to be greeted with heeseung's beautiful face, buried into her back. now this is most definitely something out of crazy dream because one moment, y/n is heeseung's biggest fan and would probably never meet him, and the next, she's cuddled up with him and taking a nap together. reading the time, 1:09 pm, y/n decided that maybe she could plan something for her and heeseung to do here in the dorm so no one would spot them. so, carefully slipping out of heeseung's hold, y/n makes her way into the living room/kitchen and spots jake, sunghoon, and riki playing games on the sofa. "oh- hello," she bows, remembering that these are her favorite idols and still wanting to make a good impression. "oh my goodness! are you y/n?? we've heard so much about you!! we only had a short period of time to talk last time so this is really nice!" jake exclaimed, making his way over to y/n. he really was just like a cute little puppy. "yes hi! i can't believe this is actually real. thank you for having me over," y/n smiles brightly. "of course! actually, we've noticed a change in heeseung hyung's attitude and we think it's because of you! he's always so smiley now and always updates us about you," sunghoon adds, with riki trailing in behind him, nodding his head in agreement. after talking a bit more with them, y/n notices out of the corner of her eye, a figure slumped against the door frame. jake, sunghoon, and riki take this time as a time to escape their lovey dovey-ness and head back to their rooms. turning and seeing a freshly-woken-up heeseung wearing the cutest pout ever, she walks over and simply adores his little pout. "woke up and you were gone," he mumbled, sleep evident in his voice still. "thought you left but turns out you were too busy with them." he adds, his lower lip jutting out more. truth be told, y/n wasn't really listening as she was too busy adoring his features. then, all of the sudden, heeseung wrapped his body around y/n's and carried her over to the couch.

after a comfortable silence filled with cuddles and affectionate gestures, heeseung takes a deep breath and turns to face y/n. "y/n, can i be real with you?" he asks, breaking the silence. y/n can only nod as she for some reason, can't form any words at the moment. maybe it's his doe eyes staring right at her, filled with nothing but softness, care, and maybe something else? "i'm just gonna say it. i think i'm in love with you. no, actually, i know i'm in love with you. i know we've only really known each other for a month now and this is our second time meeting, but i truly believe that you are the one for me. you help me get through tough days of training, and root for me like no one else has. you make me feel enough for myself and i truly thank you for that. i totally understand if you don't feel the same way, but i just wanted to let you know." heeseung confessed. it took y/n a second to process the fact that her bias just confessed feelings to her but then she was able to form some words and reply. "i'm so glad that i can be that person for you seungie," she starts, taking his hands into hers. "i actually feel the same way. whenever i was feeling down or discouraged, i would just listen to your words or lyrics and they just made me feel so loved. i should be the one thanking you! you have helped me for almost 4 years now, and i'd be so stupid to say i didn't like you back. lee heeseung, i like you so much and i have since the minute i saw you on i-land. thank you for being the reason i smile and laugh nowadays." y/n and heeseung meant every single word they said to each other. they had both been each other's person for the past month past 4 years for y/n and they truly felt something special for each other. "can i kiss you?" heeseung whispers, leaning so close to y/n, their faces mere centimeters apart. "yes," and with that singular word, heeseung closed the gap between them. their lips were like puzzle pieces, they fit perfectly together and everything just felt so complete now that they were together. the kiss was passionate, yet soft, and was sweeter than anything y/n or heeseung had ever tasted. when they finally pulled apart, heeseung rested his forehead against y/n's. whispering "i'm so stupid in love with you" against her lips, he pecks her again, short and sweet, yet filled with love. "soo...one last question. will you be my girlfriend?" "is that even a question? yes!!" and the two stuck together for the rest of the day, treasuring their moments together. heeseung figured that telling management was for another day. today was filled with their crazy, stupid love.

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first heeseung fic!!! i honestly couldn't help but feel real delulu while writing this but it's okayyyy....delulu is the solulu after all. hope you guys enjoy this!! reblogs, likes, and feedback are very much appreciated! <33

[drabbles-mc]

It'll Get Done

Richie Jerimovich & F!Reader

Find Part 2 Here

Warnings: 18+, language, the lightest sprinkle of angst, takes place during s1

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Yes. I am neglecting all of my other ficly responsibilities because I got hit with this nugget of an idea at 6am today. Yes, I am already planning more for the two of them. No, I don't know the details of what that's going to entail. But feel free to enjoy this in the meantime 😂

The Bear Taglist: @garbinge @withmyteeth @ashlingnarcos @hausofmamadas @narcolini @justreblogginfics (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

You were the only one at the restaurant. You had your headphones in, the bare minimum number of lights on—just enough so that you were able to see what you were doing and not accidentally chop off the tips of your fingers. You had no good reason to be there, to be prepping, but you’d slept like shit the night before and you were sick of laying on your mattress staring up at the ceiling of your apartment. So here you were, apron on, headphones in, trying to play your music loud enough to drown out the thoughts in your head.

Other people started to trickle in. If they were talking to you, you didn’t hear them. Clearly no one had anything pressing to talk to you about since none of them stopped to explicitly try to get your attention. You were in the zone, and by this point you all had fallen into a flow with one another. You could all practically move through that kitchen with your eyes closed. You clocked everyone out of the corner of your eye. They’d reach over and around you as needed, and you just stayed in your lane.

You were halfway through carefully picking up the celery you’d finished chopping to put it in its own Tupperware when someone reached and placed their hand over the top of the container to thwart your efforts. You huffed out a deep sigh, not needing to turn and look to know who it was. His voice was hardly breaking through the music blaring from your headphones, and that’s how you knew your music must’ve been loud.

With his other hand, Richie reached and plucked one of the headphones out of your ear. “Yo! You hear me now?!”

“Move your hand before I slice it off, Richie,” you snapped, sounding more exasperated than actually angry.

“What’s got you so pissed off today?”

“Some asshole I work with won’t let me finish my fucking prep,” you replied back with no hesitation.

“Prep?” Richie scoffed, finally moving his hand so you could continue with what you were doing. “Looks more like a massacre.” He loomed in a little closer. “Hey, listen babe, the produce guy is gonna stop sellin’ to us if he sees how you’re treating his celery every time your boyfriend pisses you off. Which is a lot lately.”

You rolled your eyes but no matter how much you wanted to shrug it off like it didn’t bother you, you could still feel the tightness in your jaw as it involuntarily clenched at the mere mention of your boyfriend.

“C’mon, tell me,” Richie chided, leaning against the counter like other chefs weren’t going to need the space. “What’d he do this time?”

You didn’t want to get into it. You didn’t want to get into it at work. You didn’t want to get into it at work with Richie of all people. That was half the reason you showed up to the restaurant at the ass-crack of dawn. Shaking your head, you tried to stay as neutral as possible as you said, “Nothing, Richie.”

“That’s always his fuckin’ issue though, right? Never does shit. Never comes by the restaurant, never fuckin’ takes you—”

“I’m not getting into this right now, alright? I got,” you gestured to the counterspace on the other side of you that was occupied by the rest of your prep, “shit to do.”

“I think you’ve murdered enough vegetables for now.”

“Rich—”

“Cousin!” Carmy interjected, annoyance dripping from his voice. “Leave her alone. She’s right—we got shit to do.”

Richie waved him off. “Then keep doin’ your shit.” He motioned back and forth between himself and you. “We’re trying to have a conversation here. Work out some big life problems.”

Carmy weaved his way by you, calling out a half-hearted behind before saying, “No offense, but I don’t really give a shit about your breakup right now, or whatever else it is. We open in—”

“She knows when we fucking open,” Richie said with a laugh. “She worked here before you did, you fu—”

“Enough!” you cut them both short. You looked over at Carmy. “I always get my shit done. It’ll get done.”

Two seconds of tense silence passed among the three of you before Carmy finally stepped away. He didn’t say anything else, and much to your surprise Richie didn’t call out anything after him trying to drag out the argument. You were almost wondering if he was just going to leave you alone too, but you knew better.

“So,” Richie finally turned back to you once Carmy had disappeared into the office, “what’d Thomas the Tank Engine do this time?”

You laughed despite your annoyance with your boyfriend, despite your annoyance with Richie. “His name isn’t—”

“I’m not calling that jagoff by his name. It’s not even a real—”

“It’s a real name,” you argued as you got back into your prep, although you weren’t quite sure why this was the hill you were choosing to die on with Richie. You were pissed off with your boyfriend, after all. Thomas the Tank Engine was much nicer than some of the things you’d been calling him in your head over the last twelve hours.

“It’s not.”

“Trent is a real—”

“Who the hell names their kid Trent? It’s like his parents knew he was gonna be an asshole. Hell, the second you told me his name a few months ago I knew—”

“You think every guy I date is an asshole!”

“And I’ve never been wrong!” Even though you were both yelling at each other, you were still laughing too. You were shaking your head, being marginally nicer to the carrots you were chopping as Richie watched you work. “What happened? Do I gotta go and beat Tiny Tim’s ass?”

Your head dropped back as you laughed. “You’re awful.” Taking a breath, you shook your head at him. “But no. You do not have to go and beat his ass.”

“You finally break up with him?”

“No.”

“Then why don’t I gotta go beat his ass?”

You were smiling as you shook your head, packing up the next leg of your prep. “Because despite what you might think, that’s actually not the right response every time something doesn’t go according to plan. No matter how many times you and Carmy try to resolve something with a goddamn wrestling match.”

“Which I always win, by the way,” Richie commented with a grin that was far too smug for his own good.

“That’s no great feat—neither of you can fight for shit.”

He stepped back, looking as offended as ever. “Hey, I—”

“I love you,” you shook your head as you cleared your station, “but you can’t fight. You can fight better than Carmy, but you still can’t fight.” You chuckled. “It’s a good thing you have a gun.”

He wanted to look genuinely annoyed but he started laughing instead. “Fuck you.” Leaning in, he pressed a quick kiss to the side of your head before finally deciding to move on to the next person and let you get back to your job. “Tell Tinkerbell if he ever shows up here, his ass is grass though, alright?”

You laughed and nodded. “I’ll be sure to relay the message.”

Richie was either satisfied with your response, or someone new in the kitchen caught more of his attention because he turned and walked away. You couldn’t stop laughing and shaking your head at him as he started in on Marcus next on the other side of the kitchen. Reaching up, you carefully pulled the other headphone out of your ear, letting them drape over your shoulders for the time being. Nothing had really changed but suddenly listening to the chaos and shouting and laughter in the kitchen seemed preferable to the blaring music that had been rattling around your head all morning.

Your prep was done, your station cleaned, phone and headphones tucked back away in your locker where you usually kept them, when Carmy called out, “Five minutes to open, Chefs!”

In almost-unison, everyone called back, “Yes, Chef!”

Except for Richie, who called back something perfectly nonsensical that got lost in the midst of all the rest. You had no idea if Carmy had actually heard the words or if his call-back of, “Richie, you can still go fuck yourself,” was just routine now.

It was dangerously close to the end of the five-minute mark when Richie came bounding back through the kitchen, shrugging on his jacket as he went. He clapped you on the shoulder as he slipped by you. “Keep being nice to those vegetables while I’m gone, Chef.”

You couldn’t hide your confusion at the fact that he was leaving just as the place was about to open. “Where are you going?”

“Gotta go talk to a buddy about this thing,” he said, gesturing with his thumb back over his shoulder.

“Sounds really important, yeah,” you replied sarcastically.

He was walking backwards out of the kitchen as he said, “Drinks on me tonight after work.”

You sighed, head dropping so that you were looking down at the floor. “Richie—”

“Then you can give me the whole low-down on whatever the fuck Tom and Jerry did yesterday.”

You laughed, knowing that you weren’t going to get out of it. Finally, you gave in with a nod. “Alright, yeah, okay. Long as you don’t get lost on your way back from the place after you do the thing,” you motioned vaguely towards the door with the knife in your hand.

Richie chuckled, a genuine smile passing over his face. “See? You’re finally getting it. Only took how long?” Then he disappeared through the door, gone and out of earshot before you could fire back at him.

[danikamariewrites]

Hello 😊 can you do a Ruhn× shy library reader scenario/headcanon please 💗

I just wondered how he would be chasing after someone more quiet and introvert.

I also want to mention I really like your page, makes my tea break more entertaining 😄

Behind Bookcases

Ruhn x reader

A/n: aww thank you sm I’m happy you like my blog

the way I’ve thought about this before it would be such a cute dynamic 🥰

Warnings: none

You work in the Fae Archives and occasionally saw the Prince when he came by to research something for the Aux or to visit his sister. Your job wasn’t anything fancy. You were simply just the book keeper, making sure things were in there place and helping people find things.

Ruhn had asked were to find certain books and you had always fumbled your words and maybe seemed a little too eager when you brought him to the stacks. He was always so kind to you when he came in. Lately you felt like he was coming to the archives a lot. And he wasn’t even seeing Bryce most of the time.

You could’ve sworn the other week he was trying to flirt with you when he stopped by the front desk during your shift. You didn’t want to look too into it though. He was a huge party guy and your idea of a fun night was something quiet with a small group or just spending time alone at home. What could Ruhn possibly see in you?

One day after a month straight of Ruhn coming to the archives and lingering at the desk and asking you a million questions your confidence seemed to have boosted. You were typically nervous around people you don’t know. Ruhn had been coming to the archives so much you felt like you had known him for years. Even if you just had small, meaningless conversations.

You were putting books back when you heard muttering from the other side ancient bookcase. You know you shouldn’t be eavesdropping but the voice sounded familiar. Slowly taking a book out from your side, you peeked into the other aisle.

Ruhn was pacing back and forth. He looks a little stressed. His phone is pressed between his shoulder and ear as he tries not to yell at the person he’s talking to who is clearly teasing him.

“Dec for the first time I’m not sure what to do. I’m nervous. And don’t you dare tell Flynn what I just said…we’ll take me off speaker then, I called you not the whole house.” What could he be nervous about? Ruhn exuded confidence, not to mention he was a total charmer.

“No I’m not asking Bryce. I want to do this on my own.” You could hear yelling through the phone. It wasn’t angry, it sounded like his friends were cheering him on. You shrugged and gently put the book back going back to your task.

You gently push the cart out the aisle and run into Ruhn accidentally hitting him. “Oh! I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking.” Your cheeks turn beet red as he smiles down at you, handing you two books that fell off the cart. “It’s alright y/n. I was actually hoping to run into you.”

Your eyes went wide and your lips parted a little in shock. He wanted to talk to you? You wondered if he just wanted information on something. “Yeah, what do you need help with?” Ruhn chuckled a little and nervously scratched at the back of his neck.

“Well it’s not…I don’t need help persay…but,” Ruhn never stumbled when speaking. You didn’t want to get your hopes up, that would be embarrassing. Ruhn let out a small groan and dropped his head. Looking back up at you his violet, blue eyes seemed softer.

“I was wondering if you would like to go out to dinner with me?” You wanted to jump up and down and scream yes, yes, a thousand times yes! But you reined yourself in. Your face lit up, a wide smile breaking out on your lips. “Yes. I-I’d love to.”

The prince let out a sigh of relief. “Prefect. When are you?” “Tonight,” you responded quickly. You cleared your throat repeating the word softer, “Tonight. If that’s cool with you.” Ruhn’s smile widened as he nodded his head. “Yeah, give me your number and I’ll pick you up tonight at seven.”

After giving your number to Ruhn and walking with him back to the front of the archives you couldn’t stop smiling. You were going on a real date with a real prince! And you couldn’t wait.

[missmonsters2]

—FLASHOVER | SEVEN

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x OFC/Fem!Reader

Summary: Wednesday finds it's pleasant talking to you. There's a rhythmic back and forth, easy to follow along. So, why is it that you've been making bets and comments in your latest conversations that are way too emotionally charged for someone like Wednesday to know what to do with the static and friction.

Warnings: Competitive!Wednesday. Jealous!Wednesday. Competitive!Enid—she's gonna win that trophy again. Thing—should be getting paid honestly. Xavier—only knows losing.

Series Masterlist | Library Blog | AO3

Reminder there’s no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Note: This is a little longer to make up for the short chapter last time 🤏 let the action begin! I hope you enjoy it ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) also yes i did change part 6's graphic nobody say anything shh

Part Six

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Flashover: Noun. The moment a conversation becomes real and alive, which occurs when a spark of trust shorts out the delicate circuits you keep insulated under layers of irony, momentarily grounding the static emotional charge you've built up through decades of friction with the world.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

It was the day before the Poe Cup race, and everyone was finishing the last touches to their boat. 

"Are you sure this is okay?" You ask with a tilt of your head.

Enid and Wednesday glanced at each other.

"No."

"Yes."

They say it simultaneously, and you give them an amused smile.

"I mean it's not, not okay," Enid explains to you. "I need to win this trophy a second time in a row, alright?"

Enid finishes polishing the last of the boat, waving the two of you off as Yoko comes in, holding a jumpsuit that makes Wednesday's lip part slightly and sigh. Placing her hand on the small of your back, she begins to push you to walk away.

"Aren't you going to stay and finish helping?" You ask curiously, though not resistant at all to being led away. 

"No," Wednesday drones. "I'm only entering as Enid is down a rower. My conditions were that I'm copilot again this year and that outside of giving my input and checking on the boat, I wouldn't be forced into their team-bonding."

You give her an amused smile, stopping as the two of you stand in the empty hall. Turning to face Wednesday, her eyes are alight with curiosity, even if the rest of her face doesn't show it. 

"Wednesday," you call her name softly, your smile lingering on your lips. 

The ravenette peers back at you, and you feel memorized by how long her lashes are. It takes you to then admire her smooth skin—even if it lacks life. Wednesday's lips are also supp—

"What," Wednesday drives you back to reality. Her eyebrows are furrowed, confused by your intensive study of her face and silence.

You bring the crook of your finger to your mouth, clearing your throat with a cough, trying to suppress the blood rising to your cheeks.

"I was just wondering if you're ever bothered about the fact that we're..." your voice drifts off as you think about the correct way to label the two of you, "involved, and you don't have my number. I have yet to hear even one possible nickname for me from you."

"Why?" Wednesday asks with a raise of her brow. "Are you offering it to me without?"

You smile with a shake of your head. "I'm afraid not," you say but don't look sorry at all. "Rules are rules, Wednesday."

"Rules are made to be broken," Wednesday pushes back. "If I had followed every inane rule since arriving at this penitentiary, everyone would've been none the wiser and perished."

"Hm," you hum, conceding with a nod. "I would argue more that despite your lack of knowing the rules, everyone survived."

Wednesday glares at you, and she's about to demand that you explain, but you cut in before she can say anything.

"I'm enchanted by rule-breakers, Wednesday, but only by those who know the rules well enough to break them," your smile is teasing, but Wednesday can't help but tense her shoulders and stifle her frown. She's about to say something when she spots movement from the side of her eye.

That lanky, stuttering boy. 

"F-Fae!" He started hesitantly but grew more confident when he saw you smile his way.

"Hello, Henry," you politely greet. "How are you today? Are you heading to the practice room?"

He nods eagerly. "I'm good, and yeah. I swear I can do something cool if you can come see it next time," he smiles shyly back but doesn't give you time to accept or decline. "Are you going to the Poe Cup race tomorrow?"

You nod. "Yes, Bianca has asked me to come cheer for her."

Wednesday bristles. 

"Will you be going?" You ask Henry.

He looks regretful as he shakes his head no. "Unfortunately not. My father's birthday is this weekend, and I'm picking out his gift rather last minute. I'll be heading into town mulling over what I could possibly get the perpetually unsatisfied man."

You look on pityingly at him. "I'm sure he'll be happy with what you get."

"Yes," Wednesday cut in. "If not, then get him something he will undoubtedly be miserable with."

Henry looks at Wednesday strangely while you try to hide your chuckle behind your fist. 

"Well, Henry, Wednesday and I better head to class. I'll let you know who wins the race." You wave him goodbye, and he happily returns it back. He looks at Wednesday, waving at her too, but she merely stares at him before turning away to walk with you. 

As they're walking, Wednesday can hear footsteps. There's a nagging feeling in her stomach and a pricking feeling on the back of her neck. She turns her head back to look at the lanky boy but sees him sitting under one of the arches of the hall.

The sight leaves Wednesday confused, but she turns her head back to you. 

"You're cheering for Bianca?" Wednesday asks flatly, leaving out any emotions in her tone that could reveal her feelings.

"Well, she did ask me very early on," you reveal, slowing your walk down as you're in no rush to get to class. 

Wednesday follows your pace, disgruntled by the sudden change in speed and your answer. "You have pledged your allegiance to the wrong side as I will be defeating Bianca for the second time in a row. Switch or you will taste defeat right along with her."

You lick your lips, trying to not laugh. "I don't know. Bianca mentioned she had a very strategic plan. It's possible she may win."

"Over my dead body. Thing is aggrieved with you."

"Thing isn't even here," you point out, laughing. "Alright," you grin. "Why don't we make a little bet?"

"And what exactly will the winner get?"

You look up slightly in thought before looking over to Wednesday. "How about the winner gets to plan the first date?"

Wednesday comes to a dead stop. She looks at you, a little wary. "First date?"

You nod. "I think we're due for our first one." You seem like you're going to say something else but pause for a moment before sighing. "Damn, we really have all of this backward. At this rate, we'll end up doing everything else before you get my number."

Wednesday mildly scrunches her nose, her lip curling at your comment. "Why on earth would I want to plan our...our..." Wednesday can't seem to get the words out. "A date," she forces out instead.

You smirk at her. "Because if I plan it, I might subject you to a night of snood-wearing, hair-braiding, nail-painting, 2000s romcom movies date night."

Wednesday's eyes widen, looking ghastly at the suggestion. Disgust is written all over her face, and it takes everything you have to not burst into laughter. "I thought dates were supposed to be enjoyable for both parties."

"I have to keep you on your toes," you say, trying your best to sound serious. 

They start walking again, and Wednesday's eyes flitter back and forth as she considers your words. "Would you really subject me to that kind of torture?" She doesn't know whether to hate you or be proud.

"No," you admit, unable to continue your charade. "But now you know there is an appeal to being able to choose the activities we do."

The two of you stop in front of the class door, and most people have already arrived. 

"Good luck in the race, Wednesday," you say softly, starting to walk into the classroom. 

Wednesday feels the tension in her ease at your well-wishes and soft tone. 

You look back at her with a brow raised. "And maybe next time, ask me earlier to come cheer for you."

Wednesday clenches her jaw, following after you as she snaps back. "Perhaps don't agree to cheer for the enemy regardless of how early she asks."

It's irritating when you can sense when there is and isn't a bite in her tone because you only turn around, giving her a smile that makes her own lips threaten to match.  

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The sun beats down on Wednesday, making her normally cool skin feel clammy under her catsuit. The race was about to begin soon, and Enid was yammering something to her, but she wasn't listening. 

Looking around, Wednesday spots you chatting with Bianca, looking impressed with the sirens' boat. Her lips purses mildly in irritation as she turns back to Enid.

"What's the matter?" Enid asks, but Wednesday doesn't give her an answer, forcing her to search for what could irritate her best friend and roommate. Enid finds it immediately.

"It's totally fine," Enid dismisses, trying to comfort Wednesday. "Once we win, faerie berry will be celebrating with you."

"You already used that one," Wednesday ignores everything else Enid says, "and it's foul."

"To you," Enid says, stinking her tongue out. "I'll have you know it made Fae laugh."

"What's the point of having the nickname if you're going to call her Fae anyway," Wednesday points out. "Admit it. You've run out of ideas."

"O-m-g, just shut up," Enid scrunches her nose at her roommate. "This is what I get for trying to comfort you while your girlfriend cheers for someone else."

"She's not my—" Wednesday feels the heat flare up in her cheeks, even if it doesn't show (thankfully). But Enid cuts her off and starts dragging her towards the canoe.

As they all sit in their positions: Wednesday and Enid in the middle, Yoko at the front, and another girl at the back. The crowd settles and they prepare to hear the signal. 

Ajax isn't participating this year, so there is no one to distract Enid. Or so Wednesday thinks, but Enid turns her head around and smiles at her boyfriend.

"Focus, Enid," Wednesday sighs. 

The gunshot goes off, and everyone begins to paddle rigorously. It's similar to how last year started off. Everyone except Wednesday is unaware of the secret siren lurking under the waters. The first boat is eliminated almost immediately. 

Wednesday finds it suspicious that Kent heads towards her boat despite knowing she has a net prepared. But she's not left with much choice and has Thing activate the first switch. 

Just as last year, the siren is caught in her net. When Thing comes back onto the boat, he describes how the siren slowly sinks to the bottom as he tries to claw his way out. Wednesday hums, her eyes continuing to focus ahead as she paddles.

They reach the halfway point, and when Wednesday looks, she sees you peacefully sitting at the edge of the wooden dock, your feet free of shoes and socks as they languidly dip in the water. 

You send her a small wave and smile at her, which she doesn't return. But then you also look at Bianca, who has also spotted you, and send her two thumbs up at being slightly ahead.

Wednesday rows more forcefully. 

When they reach the Crackstone's crypt, Wednesday runs off to grab their flag as she did last year. She's highly sure that Thing won't be able to distract anyone else from deserting their boat, so Enid and Thing will need to get creative. 

"Hope you don't plan on taking a cat nap this time, Addams," Bianca quips as she catches up to Wednesday. 

"Why not?" Wednesday monotones, not bothering to look over. "I did last year and still managed to beat you."

"That was beginner's luck," Bianca snappishly says before smiling. "Just like fencing."

"We'll see," Wednesday answers with finality before out-running the siren to the crypt. 

Xavier has already grabbed his flag, flashing Wednesday a cocky smile as he passes her. "I'm not losing this year, Wednesday!"

She doesn't pay him any mind as she runs up to grab their own flag. She grasps it, ready to run back, when something catches her eye from the side. Amongst the yellow and green leaves lay a single vivid cobalt teal petal. Leaning down, she goes to pick it up. The second her fingers touch it, her body seizes. 

Controlling her gift has become better over the summer, and she can stop herself from falling over, but she can't contain how it feels like livewire ripping at her skin, unnerving her. 

"Jericho grows these flowers—draeconiums. They're usually harmless and have a short bloom lifecycle."

"They bloomed under an eclipse."

"Poisonous sap—harder than any metal."

"It's the only thing that can cut off a faerie's wings."

Wednesday feels like she's choking. She sees blood coating her hands along with stray black feathers. Darkness slowly clouds her vision until it's all she can see.

"Did you think because I smiled at you that I was kind? That I wasn't capable of hurting you?"

Wednesday's eyes snap open. She looks around and finds herself still standing in front of the crypt, gripping the pole of her flag until her knuckles are white.

"Don't tell me you're winded." Bianca runs up, grabbing her flag and not even sparing Wednesday a glance. "Guess I should work you harder in fencing."

Wednesday doesn't say anything, beginning to run back to the boat. 

The voice was distinctly clear. After all, Wednesday hears it every day and even dreams about it sometimes. She hears it every night she applies the salve to your wrecked wings. The only thing that throws Wednesday off balance is the acid in the tone—in your voice. 

She looks at the creased cobalt teal petal in her other hand.

What was a draeconium petal doing on the island?

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The second half of the race becomes tense. 

Kent seems to not have escaped from the net, which Wednesday found odd. He must've been hiding somewhere. 

Suddenly, the Amontillado team starts to sink, and Xavier lets out a big groan, slumping in the back.

"What did you do?" Wednesday asks.

"Thing and I switched it up this time. I distracted them and Thing drilled holes at the bottom of their boat," Enid wickedly grins just as Thing comes out from hiding under, dragging a cordless drill. "I bought that over the summer. It's waterproof!"

"How did you distract them?" Wednesday was curious. 

"My feminine wiles." Enid looks so innocent that Wednesday almost couldn't tell if she was being serious or not. 

Now it was just the Black Cats, and the Gold Bugs left, and it seems Kent decided to make his appearance known then, coming up to push the Black Cat's boat, steering them off course and towards the buoy. 

Thing throws himself into the water, swimming under the canoe towards the siren, who is smirking. Just as Thing is about to punch Kent in his face, another siren pops up from behind, securing Thing into a bag and pulling the string closed tight despite the thrashing.

Wednesday waits a few more seconds, but the answer becomes clear, especially when she sees two tails splash up briefly from the water. 

Thing doesn't swim back up from the water, and their boat is still being pushed off course forcefully. Wednesday turns on the second switch, which activates the harpoon spikes on the side of the boat. This year, they implemented a few more that would be underwater to deter sirens from getting close. 

It seemed while Wednesday expected Bianca to bring more sirens to assist her under the water, Bianca had also anticipated Wednesday knowing and preparing their boat to adjust. 

Therefore, the queen bee siren had prepared something unexpected at the very end. 

Their boat suddenly stops being pushed off course but then something worse happens. In the water, the two sirens work in tandem, swimming in rapid circles, and a whirlpool near the Black Cat's boat forms with speed, beginning to drag their unwilling boat toward disaster. 

"Paddle!" Enid screams, but it's useless. 

Thing was trapped under. 

It wasn't like he would die or anything, but there was no way his fingers would have enough strength to swim away from the forming whirlpool. He would be sucked in, swirling around until he likely hit the bottom of the river, exhausted and unable to swim back up. 

They were just past the halfway point. Wednesday had seen you as she paddled back, looking just as relaxed and languid. Now, you were peering furiously into the water as if trying to find Thing. 

Your head snaps up, locking eyes with Wednesday as she is being pulled into the whirlpool. She isn't too worried as she's an adept swimmer, and the most challenging obstacle would be holding her breath long enough to make it through to the end of the whirlpool and not slam her head at whatever was at the bottom, then have enough air to swim back up. She hopes her teammates are capable of doing the same.

If she didn't drown, she might try to find the opportunity to discover where Thing was trapped.

But then Wednesday watches you stand, loosening the tie around your neck, discarding it on the ground before you roll your skirt's waistband down several times and pull it higher up your body so the length is above your knees. Then, she watches you do a perfect dive into the river. 

The first feeling Wednesday experiences is apprehension because Wednesday doesn't even know if you can swim. Why wasn't that one of the things she asked you? 

But she only knows right now that there's a continuous rapid whirlpool, getting stronger by the minute. If you get sucked into that, and you aren't an adept swimmer, you will certainly, at the very least, drown. 

It would be okay for Thing and sirens, but definitely not creatures that needed air. 

Wednesday throws her oar back into the boat, ready to throw herself into the water, when Enid grabs her wrists and yanks her back down. 

"Enid!" Wednesday snaps, feeling that apprehension grow into something worse when you haven't popped back up for air yet. 

"You can't jump down there, you idiot!" Enid snaps back. "Unless your skin can absorb water and turn it into oxygen or you're hiding gills somewhere, you'll drown! Our best bet is to paddle into the moving downstream of the whirlpool and slingshot ourselves around and out."

"Yes, however—" Wednesday starts to argue but is cut short when the rapid current of the whirlpool and the pull of their boat suddenly begin to slow down. 

The look of confusion passes through everyone's face, especially Bianca's, as she paddles past Wednesday.

Eventually, the water is still again, and the heads of the sirens responsible for the whirlpool pop out of the water.

"Fuck!" Kent shouts with his hands to his eyes, rubbing them. "I can't see anything!"

The other one near their boat pops up, looking frantic. 

"Why is it suddenly dark?" She sputters, holding out her hand as she wades through the water, trying to find something. Her hand slaps against the Black Cat's boat, and she looks alarmed. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

"Are you blind?" Enid waves her hand in front of the girl's face, but there's no reaction. She even jumped at Enid's voice, not realizing how close she was. "It's very much still daylight out."

Wednesday looks into the girl's eyes but finds something amiss. 

The girl is still sputtering, asking for help, but Enid is more ruthless than Wednesday thought, especially since it seems like the siren's vision is slowly returning.

"Peace and love to you but goodbye!" Enid shouts as she directs everyone to start paddling. 

Wednesday paddles but looks to the side, where she sees an arm shoot up and grab the edge of the wooden dock. Another arm shoots out, and you're hoisting yourself up onto it. Thing is on your shoulder, and relief floods Wednesday's body. 

Wednesday locks eyes with you, catching you wringing the bottom of your dress shirt and skirt. You smile at her before mimicking the gesture of her paddling, telling her she should paddle faster. 

Turning back to the course, Wednesday puts her back into paddling. It seems that this year, Bianca learned her lesson, building her boat with deadly weapons, and prepared for the worst-case scenario of Wednesday somehow catching up.

Just as Wednesday paddles up next to the Gold Bug's boat with the spikes out, Bianca activates the harpoons from her boat, forcing them to keep their distance. The sirens have planted spikes around their entire boat to prevent the Black Cats from trying to get them on another side. With her team being stronger paddlers, Bianca gives Wednesday a victorious smirk as she paddles away.

But—Wednesday had banked on the fact that Bianca would grow smarter. She activates the third switch on the boat. A lid opens up at the bow of their canoe, and a small harpoon cannon rises. 

"Don't miss," Wednesday threatens Yoko, who waves her off dismissively with a hand and grabs onto the handles. 

"What?" Yoko smirks. "Do you think my eyes being in the dark with the sunglasses on would impede my perfect vision? I only bumped into a wall 6 times this week."

Wednesday doesn't comment back, mostly because Enid already seems too high-strung at this moment that she's confident the werewolf would kill her vampire best friend if the girl missed the shot. 

Yoko spends only a few moments aiming before shooting, the harpoon shooting out with force, piercing right into the opening hole of one of the spikes on the Gold Bug's boat. 

"See!" Yoko grins. "All that worry for nothing." Yoko presses a button to reel the harpoon, and as it yanks back, it rips a hole into the Gold Bug's boat.

Water quickly fills Bianca and her team's boat, and they're left bitterly watching the Black Cats row by them a second year in a row. 

The cheers are deafening as they return to the dock, with everyone jumping and screaming.

"Yes, yes, yes!" Enid screams, hugging Wednesday as the girl grunts with displeasure but allows it. "This better be the only highlight of my year!"

Wednesday finds it amusing before she turns and scans the crowd. She sees you in the far back, trying to not draw any attention to yourself. Your hair is still damp, but your clothes look relatively dry as you've been standing in the sun. Thing isn't anywhere to be seen, assumedly going back to the dorm room to rest. 

You're not cheering or clapping, but you're beaming, seemingly pleased at Wednesday's victory. 

"You're getting really good at this school spirit thing. I know you have no beef with Bianca this year, but you have to admit that it feels good to beat her again," Enid conspiringly whispers. 

Wednesday turns her head to look at Bianca, who is climbing out of the water, looking vexed. "Defeating someone always feels good," Wednesday smirks. "But it feels better when there's a reason to."

That's what her fencing rival gets for asking you to come and cheer for her. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Wednesday knocks on the door of your room carefully. She's never been to your room before, but she does like how isolated it seems. The room is further down the hall, away from others.

"Come in." Wednesday hears the muffled voice on the other side of the door. 

Turning the knob, Wednesday enters to find you standing at your full-length mirror, drying your hair. You're in casual clothing, a sight that Wednesday is used to. Wednesday, herself, was wearing a striped black and white long-sleeved shirt and a black sweater over that. 

"Hey," you look at her through the mirror, smiling as you lock eyes with her. "Not going to celebrate with your teammates?"

"I told Enid I'd think about it," Wednesday says, recalling the same words she told the blonde last year. Of course, she had been thinking about it if you were there, but Thing brought her a note from you saying to come meet you after she was done celebrating.

Therefore, Wednesday opted to skip if you weren't going. 

You chuckle, not commenting on it. "Do you want some tea?"

Wednesday nods, looking down at the fuzzy black rug and a small round coffee table a few feet away. She strides her way around before sitting on the floor at the coffee table.

There are two mugs and a cordless electric kettle in the middle of your coffee table that you open up before grabbing a water bottle to pour its contents in. You shut the lid before turning it on, and the sound of water heating fills up the room.

Wednesday takes a moment to look around the room, noting how similarly plain it was like hers (her side, at least). The room was much smaller than Wednesday's, but it was obvious it was your room alone. 

You had little personal items, mostly photos you'd taken with your friends. Instead of a twin bed like everyone else, you had a queen-size tucked in the corner. Beside it, against the wall and in front of a window, was a long desk, enough for two people to work on it if they squished. But it was barren besides a laptop and a photo of you and Bianca and you with Enid and Yoko. 

At the end of your desk stood the full-length mirror. There was a reach-in closet on the opposite side of the room, filled with your clothes that hung neatly. A lot of them looked new and unworn. 

There was little walking room, but Wednesday found it comfortable. 

"You don't have a roommate?" Wednesday asks, even though the answer is obvious.

"No," you shake your head. "It'd be impossible to hide my wings with a roommate and I need to let them out every night or they'd be very, very sore. Not to mention how miserable I'd be keeping them for that long."

"It must be nice," commented Wednesday.

You shrug. "I'm used to it, I suppose. But sometimes I'm envious of the whole…" you wave your hand in a vague motion, "roommates thing. It seems nice."

Wednesday snorts derisively. "You say that without knowing Enid's habit for snoring and singing horrid pop music. It's hard to get work done sometimes."

You finish drying your hair, letting the rest of it air dry. You hang the towel on the mirror's edge before sitting down next to Wednesday, your shoulder bumping hers. "Well, you're welcome anytime here, even if I'm not around if you want some peace and quiet," you offer. "Usually if I’m here, I'm not doing anything much except on my laptop and with earphones in."

Wednesday fidgets with her fingers at your tempting offer. "I see you've fallen into the downfall of our age—technology."

You laugh, the back of your hand covering your mouth. It's such a melodic sound that Wednesday can't help but think of her vision earlier and the acid in your tone. 

Was it even possible?

The water finally finishes heating up, and you place the tea bags into the two cups before pouring hot water into them, sliding one mug in front of Wednesday, who nods in thanks.

"I will admit that I've fallen into binging Netflix shows or documentaries, and the occasional snooping of Enid's blog, but I can't say it's an addiction of mine," you reveal. "Fae realms aren't as modern as the outside world. We have things like electricity, heating, and plumbing but technology isn't as prevalent. It's more used for research than it is for entertainment."

"I see," Wednesday tilts her head at the information. She wishes her mother would hurry up with that goddamn diary. 

"I believe a lot of the younger generation is fighting for change but a lot of high lords are against it," you sigh.

Wednesday doesn't know what to say. She's not knowledgeable enough about fae realms to comment on it. But you change the subject before she can even attempt to think of an answer.

You turn to her, a crooked smile on your lips. "Congratulations on today," you say softly. "You were very impressive."

Wednesday shrugs off your laudatory. "Victory was only possible because of you," she acknowledges. She turns to you, narrowing her eyes. "You did something to those sirens. It caused them to be temporarily blind."

You nod. 

"Is that your power?"

You vaguely nod again, swaying back and forth as if that's only part of the answer.

"One of them, yes." You finally say. "It's a mild form of psychic powers. I'm not actually physically impairing their eyes, but rather clouding their mind, cutting off certain brain signals so that they think it's pitch black."

"I'm not really good at it," you hurry to say after, as if worried. "I don't have a lot of practice, and it can only last a few minutes at best."

"That is impressive," Wednesday genuinely compliments. 

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks and rub the back of your neck shyly. "Thanks," you mumble.

Wednesday senses your discomfort and decides to not push you about your powers for tonight. 

"I thought you were rooting for Bianca," Wednesday says quietly. "We had a bet, did we not?"

You tilt your head at Wednesday, almost as if you're confused by her words. And then you're leaning closer to her. 

Wednesday is impossibly still. The air suddenly feels electrically charged, sparks forming as the silence drags on. It was infuriating and intoxicating how you could turn the mood so fast.

"Wednesday," you call her name softly, silkily, making the ravenette twitch. "Are you a competitive person?"

"Most definitely." Wednesday answers without hesitation and in a tone that almost seems proud. "I can be obsessive, single-minded, and I don't often lose."

"I'm not a competitive person at all," you admit to her, leaning closer. "I make bets all the time without a care if I win or lose them."

You had taken a sip of your tea earlier, and Wednesday could feel the heat of it on your breath. She could practically feel the heat radiating off your lips. 

"That's ridiculous," Wednesday tries to keep the steel in her voice, but she feels something in the back of her throat wavering.

"Is it?" You retort back quietly. "If I make the bets, I can tell you now that I'm winning either way."

The words take a moment for Wednesday to process. Her eyes focus, recalling the bet, and she feels her stomach knot. 

"I don't care who plans the date," you say the words out loud, forcing Wednesday to publicly acknowledge it. "Because in the end, we'll be having a date."

You smile, and it causes your lips to brush against Wednesday, and her eyes flutter close.

"Although, I do admit it will be fun to watch you attempt to plan a date that will entertain us both," you tease. 

Wednesday's eyes snap back open, glaring at you. "Don't get ahead of yourself," she raises her brow at you. "If I can't be sure to plan the best date, I may settle to plan the worst one."

"Worst?" You try to not laugh.

"It would end in tears…on your end. Uncomfortable displeasure on mine."

"And the best?"

Wednesday is silent.

You let the silence linger between the two of you, basking in the proximity of Wednesday Addams. 

"Want to make another bet?" Your eyes flitter up to look into Wednesday's gaze.

"Exactly what kind?" Wednesday asks. Given your revelation, she knows she should say no, but curiosity has always been Wednesday's killer.

Wednesday watches you observe her, studying every meticulous feature of her face as if searching for something. Wednesday is stiff, but she's leaning closer even if she doesn't realize it.

"If you stay completely still for the next five minutes, I'll refrain and wait to kiss you on our first date," you say, moving somehow closer to Wednesday's face, tilting her face more against hers. Your lips brush but never fully touch. "If you move, you have to kiss me right now."

Everyone knows that Wednesday can stay still long enough to make people believe she's dead. You must've known that, especially having listened to people telling you about last year's events. 

So, Wednesday thinks about what this bet is about. 

"If I make the bets, I can tell you now that I'm winning either way."

And regardless of the results of the bet, you'd get a kiss.

Wednesday swallows, feeling something strange happen to her by just your words. 

It's the kind of revelation that feels emotionally charged. It's a build-up of all the time she has spent with you and pathetically pined after you. 

Wednesday is a very competitive person. She detests losing. It brings pity, rage, and self-disgust.

Yet, because it's you, there's an underlying spark of trust in defeat. 

Wednesday Addams didn't mind losing to you.

Licking her lips, Wednesday moves her hand, grabbing the edge of your shirt at your stomach to anchor herself. She tugs, pulling you closer, and presses her lips against yours.

PART 8

[gaoau]

Mirror Mirage

Dive, sink, drown back in time.

pairing — Lu Guang x gn!reader word count — 1.6k

Sand slipping through the minimal space between the fingers; bricks replacing the marrow of the bones; madness and sanity, coherence and nonsense. People exist chained to numbers going in circles endlessly, round and round and round. Those who obey the passage of time, and those who rebel against its confinements. Citizens and criminals—or rather, regulars and murderers. Time is a fleeting permanence.

Rules are created to keep order, balance, peace, life. To disrupt them, ignore them, forget them means to end harmony and wreck existence. Do not change events in the past, for it shall destroy the present. Simple, incomprehensible; either way, the most important rule of life. Allow things to flow however nature properly dictates it, intervene as little as possible or not at all.

Time is incredibly fragile, yet so unbelievably sturdy. In study halls and waiting rooms, it becomes thick, hefty; it is present, it takes the lead, time keeps everything and everyone grounded in a locked box. Lu Guang witnesses first-hand the way it weighs on [Name]. They're paying close attention to their teacher as she rambles on and on and on. He isn't, he's watching them.

The sands of time seem to blow against their eyes, blinding them with haze and tiredness. The seconds carve themselves onto their skin, filling in the gestures when they struggle to understand. Their gaze flickers briefly towards him; a mere moment, yet so lengthy. Lu Guang sees it all.

He's one to follow the rules presented by the universe—he knows of their existence, he knows of their purpose, he knows not to break them. He reminds Xiaoshi to not disrupt them with stupid impulses in his emotions. He is careful and responsible as he holds delicate life between his fingers.

Unlike him, time is a responsibility [Name] doesn't assume—he figures that's why it hits them a billion times harder.

Rarely, however not impossibly, there exist places where time thins out into nothing but an insignificant strand of hair. Anywhere from empty parking lots to 24-hour convenience stores. [Name] takes advantage of these cracks, these openings, these flickering phenomenons where the past overlaps with the present. They slip right into them to destroy all they know as it is today.

They're one to dance around the rules imposed on them—they know of their existence, they care not about their purpose, they ignore their importance. It's fun, it's thrilling, and it puts food on their plate every time another clock shatters. They choose who to ruin while remaining unharmed as they cut the cord for others.

Lu Guang catches sight of their sparkling gaze and radiant complexion in the night. When there are too many stars to keep track of, time holds the least amount of power. It doesn't hit [Name] at all.

He glares as they leap back and forth between the now and the yesterday. One second they're gone for an entire two weeks and a half, the next hour they return within five days of a minute. Every time, they greet Lu Guang with a childlike grin.

"You shouldn't play with time so carelessly," he advises. It falls on deaf ears, for they're gone to December of a decade ago.

They reappear to his left, behind a pillar in an abandoned construction site. They hand him a souvenir—discontinued in this day and age. He frowns. Before he can reinforce his scolding, [Name] retorts, "Who says I'm playing?" A chuckle sounds as it flutters towards the moon. "Sports are a game, but still a job."

On the news, reports of happy lives turning upside down in an instant, overnight, without sense flood the channels. Lu Guang downs his coffee as he considers calculating the impossible, reaching results of two plus two summing up to a billion and five. Successful men reduced to bankruptcy, powerful women thrown off their throne, people left and right losing a realized existence to an inexplicable car crash. Events that shouldn't happen, but they do.

Disrupting the past means obliterating the present. Most commonly known as the butterfly effect: a mere ant changing its course may bring empires to their doom. He wonders if [Name] knows what they're doing—of course they do, and that is why they continue to do it.

When they meet him for coffee—hours after class but before they can slip into the past through a malfunction in the frame—Lu Guang doesn't want to believe they are the cause of all these misfortunes. Time breaks where it's forcefully torn apart. "So this is your job?" he begins, stare deadpan and inexpressive. [Name] freezes at his sharp words stabbing through their chest and crushing their lungs. Lu Guang continues in a flat sentence, "Messing up the pa—No. Destroying the present is your job?"

They force out a bitter chuckle. They pretend to not be burning up inside and outside. Their reflection in their drink distorts itself with the quivering of their hand. "It's more than that; it's worse than that."

Lu Guang leans into the table to try and find their gaze. They refuse to meet him as they turn their head away from him. "What do you do, [Name]?" he speaks between a sigh and dreadful firmness. He emphasizes his syllables too much for comfort.

With their cup pressed against their lips, [Name] manages an excuse in the shape of a mumble, "I play God." Lu Guang scrutinizes their rotten words through narrowed eyes. "I'm the ant that destroys empires." They finish their coffee before he decides to give up on glaring into their soul. He doesn't understand what they mean and they aren't willing to admit their criminal deeds. The issue is dropped by the time they flee for summer of half a century ago.

Time breaks where it's forcefully torn apart. Time requires constant stimulation in the proper places to continue its cycle of opening up and overlapping wherever chance dictates it. [Name] slips through a gap they find by coincidence or by fate, then they slice the same gap wide open once more to ensure their return to their present. If the space sews itself back up, the stitches shall forever remain closed. Although [Name] can't confirm any of their hypotheses, they aren't willing to test them out. As long as they can set off the events that shall satisfy their clients and later find their place where they rightfully belong, all is fine.

An ant may turn left to allow an empire to thrive. It may also turn right to bring it to its knees. It may as well march forward to let it exist in mediocrity. Whichever path the ant may choose, they can all be overwritten if so it's desired. [Name] plays with the cause and effect of events already set in stone; they carve new engravings on pieces of brick to replace what has already been decided. Dangerous gambles produce disastrous outcomes.

Time is thin in bathrooms in the middle of the night. Lu Guang flicks the light on at something past three in the morning. There's a haze of thick tiredness hanging over his eyes, but he cannot get a wink of sleep no matter how hard he tries. He splashes water over his face to give his mind a chance to find clarity somewhere in a refreshment. When he stares at the mirror above the sink, he's wide awake with energy of alert spiking his every nerve. Eyes closed, breaths even, basking in the sleep that has long escaped his grasp, his reflection slumbers peacefully in [Name]'s arms. He shoots a fleeting glance behind his shoulder to make sure they haven't broken into his place. He turns back to his dormant reflection and can't distinguish whether the droplets trailing down his face are the water from earlier or a nervous sweat.

He glares into their downcast eyes. The smile they wear blurs the line between painful and comforting. Their hands settle on his shoulders and Lu Guang can almost feel their touch through the reversed image the mirror offers back. His reflection is safe in their hold and [Name] is there, but not with him on this side—on the right side.

"If anything," they begin unprompted, "I did it because of you."

Lu Guang frowns on defensive instinct. "I didn't ask you to do anything."

They chuckle. It sounds so distorted, travelling through solid time and space and not through the air like it's supposed to. "I know, but I couldn't help myself. I can't imagine a present without you again." Their choice of words tears him apart.

"Do you think I can imagine one without you?"

"You won't have to put in that effort. You'll just have to get used to it."

Lu Guang falls silent. Sorrow shall morph into indifference overtime. At the same time a scar fades, the body grows closer to death. Time heals all wounds but it also makes it so no more wounds may happen. What a cursed thing the tick-tock of the numbers truly is.

Ever-so-softly, they speak up again with a trembling tone, "You always look so tired." The touch of their thumbs ghosts underneath the closed eyes of his reflection. He thinks he can feel their warmth breaking up through his skin. "Get some rest, yeah?" He closes his own eyes, knowing the most he can do is nod along with their demands.

By the time he dares open them up again, all that's left of [Name] is a whisper of their words in the form of resilience. His reflection blinks back at him. He decides not to find them.

—あごす (agosu) • 2021

[tainted-liquor]

'Pick Up The Phone.⋆♱☠︎︎

GhostFace!Hobie Brown / BlackFem!Reader Ingredients: Lemon Zest, salt and tears, and low sugar. (Suggestive, angsty, v little fluff.) TWs: Swearing, YOU LITERALLY DIE!! HOBIE KILLS YOU!, biting kink, murder W/C: 1k! A/N: You get manhandled by Hobie. That's it bae there's no love

It was a freezing cold night, the wind whistling as the rain pattered against your window. You hummed to yourself as you walked back and forth between your kitchen and bedroom, placing more snacks on your nightstand with each trip. You decided to cancel your plans with your friends tonight due to the weather and stay warm and happy under your blanket. After dragging half of your pantry into your bedroom, you threw your phone down on the top of the blanket and made yourself comfortable. You surfed through Netflix to find something entertaining to watch before your phone rang loudly next to you.

There wasn't a caller ID, so you let it ring as you continued to surf through the various shows and movies on all your streaming platforms until your phone rang again...somehow louder? You sighed as you declined the call, adamant about not taking calls from unfamiliar numbers. It was likely your psycho ex, so you brushed it away, turning on a random movie. The soft ambiance of 'My Girl' filled your bedroom, stuffing your hand into a bag of hot fries as you pulled your blankets up slightly. All was well for about 5 minutes until you got the same call again.

You groaned loudly, holding yourself back from throwing the remote halfway across the room as you paused your movie to answer the call with an extremely irritated "WHAT!?" There was no noise only the other end for a brief moment, followed by a low chuckle as you could almost hear the strangers grin. "Don't be like that...Why don't you wanna chat with me, lovey?" The strange voice asked. It was unfamiliar, and laced with a thick and heavy Londoner accent. It would have been hot, but due to the circumstance, you felt nothing but confusion. "Who is this?" You replied, fight-or-flight senses telling you immediately that something was wrong.

"C'mon, Dove, you tell me your name n I'll tell you mines." He spoke, that voice ringing in your ears like the most seductive lullaby you had ever heard. "Sorry, Mr. Mysterious...that's not how we get down around here." You enunciated, being extremely mindful that this was a stranger on the other line. He chuckled coldly as his once charming and flirtatious giggle turned slightly crazed and deranged before muttering a small "Thas' alright...cute outfit you're wearin'. See you soon." Your eyes shot open as he hung up the phone, giving you no time to process anything of what he said before you ran to make sure all doors and windows were locked. Sure, it could've just been some sort of sick prank call. But down here? Oh no baby we don't take chances.

The next 10 minutes were hell as you turned off the TV, quickly locking yourself in your room with a kitchen knife. You hushed your breathing, allowing yourself the full advantage of pure silence to scope out any threats or unusual noises. You fumbled with your phone as you went to dial 911 with your shakey hands. "Yes, hello?" You whispered. "I need the police here immediately, there was a call...I think someones gonna attempt to break into my house."

"Okay, stay on the line we'll-" The call dropped. "FUCK!" You shouted as you attempted to recharge your dead phone. There was a loud crash that sounded that breaking wood, biting back tears as you slipped into the closet as silently as possible. There was a series of thuds that sounded like heavy boots before your doorknob began to jiggle. Whoever was on the other end wanted in, and they wanted in BAD.

There was silence as you let go of a breath you were holding, relaxing slightly as you leaned back on a coat in your closet in relief. All of that serenity left your body when you heard the loudest bangs and cracks of your life, watching through the crack of the closet as your door came flying off its hinges. Tears flooded your vision as you attempted to stay calm, biting down on your finger to prevent yourself from screaming at the top of your lungs.

"Oh, you...what you think I'm stupid?" The man spoke as he waltzed into your room. He was tall...REALLY tall. He wore a rather scratched ghost face mask and all-black clothing, a crop top that had the arms ripped off, and a multitude of belts that held up his low-rise tight jeans. "You think I'm some sort of joke, dove?" He chuckled before pausing in front of the closet, facing the direction of the window before plunging his fist straight through the wood, grabbing you by your hair, and ripping you out with a feverish smile. "See, there you are pretty girl..." He cooed as he watched you scream and squirm, attempting to shank him repeatedly with the knife.

He quickly used his free hand to grab your wrist, pulling you up on your feet by a fistful of your hair as he quickly threw the knife away from your grasp. "C'mon, don't fight me dove, I only wanna talk to you..." he continued to coo as he held you painfully tight, fearing he'd break your spine as he held you flush against his chest. You sobbed into his chest, biting and scratching as he only groaned lowly at the sensation. "Hmm...'s not gonna 'urt me. It'd do the opposite actually" he laughed, cold and heartless. You utilized the fact that your legs were left to dangle, delivering a sharp knee to his groin and slipping away from him.

You didn't even wait to see his reaction as you grabbed your phone and ran out of your apartment. You screamed as loud as you could, chest heaving and throat burning from your rapid and strained breathing. It hurt, every single time you breathed it felt like fire. You rounded the corner, practically flying down the stairs as you dialed up 911 on your phone. Tears silently coursed down your face as you relaxed, attempting to catch your breath.

There was a sharp pain and a seemingly innocent giggle. You looked down to see a knife plunged straight into your stomach, painting your beautiful pajama set in a shade of ruby. You turned to look behind you, seeing another ghost face mask, only this one's hair was fully visible. Long, silky, brown hair flowed from the top of his mask as he muttered a low "There's always two, new guy."

The tall, 'emo' one descended the stairs slowly, looking you straight through your soul through his mask, lifting it up so you could see his unfortunately gorgeous features. "G'nite, love." He spat, delivering a kiss to your forehead, cupping both sides of your face in his hands oh so gentle hands.

*crack!*

[animebw]

Short Reflection: Oshi no Ko Season 2

In case you're new around these parts, let me just pull a Kendrick Lamar and say that I'm Oshi no Ko's biggest hater. I staked my claim on this show being crap twenty minutes into the first episode and I've stuck by that assertion ever since. It's a shallow, insincere, cynical piece of crap masquerading as a Serious Examination of the entertainment industry, claiming to portray the true nature of working in this business while being just as plastic and pandering as the very attitudes it pretends to critique. No matter how many self-important speeches it puts into its characters' mouths, it can't hide the fact that at heart, it's a juvenile power fantasy about an self-insert edgelord who boringly broods and cringes his way through a half-baked murder mystery while amassing a harem of teenage girls, sister included. As I said in my season 1 review, if lies are the highest form of love, then Oshi no Ko must be the greatest lover of all.

So imagine how infuriating it was when I put on season 2 and realized it was actually really good.

Listen, I didn't want to believe it. How was this show getting me so invested? How was this show making me pump my fist and cheer with triumph? But the facts are the facts: for the first time this season, I saw Oshi no Ko rise to become the best possible version of itself. After all the garbage it put me through, I suddenly found myself watching a show that was propulsive, beautiful, earnest, and filled with genuine insight into what drives people to throw their lives into art against all better judgement. This is the kind of show Oshi no Ko was always promising to be but never lived up to before. This was a show at least a little worthy of the tsunami of hype it crested into the anime world on.

Unfortunately, it was also proof that this show is never going to be truly great.

But we're getting ahead of ourselves. The first two thirds or so of season 2 are taken up by the Lala Lai arc, in which Aqua, Kana, Akane, and a smattering of new and old faces get together to put on a 2.5D stage play adaptation of a long-running shonen action manga. On concept alone, that's a pretty novel direction to take things; we don't really have 2.5D plays in the West, so seeing all the technical stagecraft necessary to translate manga into a theatrical performance was fascinating. Ditto the insight into the complicated process of adaptation, how communication can break down between parties and the conflict between keeping a work's original soul and adjusting to fit the demands of the new medium. I've long been an advocate of adaptations making big changes when it makes the work better, and watching those conflicts and conversations play out made me much more appreciative of how difficult that process can be. For the first time, it felt like all the industry info-dumping was actually enriching my understanding of how this business works, and how it informed the characters' place within it.

Speaking of those characters, what makes the Lala Lai arc really shine is in broadening the spotlight. This is no longer the Aqua and Ruby show; this is a full-on ensemble piece, where pretty much every member of the production has a moment to shine. It bobs and weaves between countless little stories playing out both during the rehearsal process and during the first performance of the play itself, flashing back and forth as it digs into the heart of each individual passion that drives these actors to shine so brightly. And watching those passions collide and cascade makes that performance absolutely riveting. Seriously, I can't count the number of times I just about leaped out of my seat and yelled "Fuck yes!" at someone reaching their full potential on stage and seizing the spotlight in a brilliant display of emotion (and animation; the swooping camera and surreal colorscapes that take over this part of the show are the best Oshi no Ko has ever looked). Natural genius, amateur, it doesn't matter; on the stage of Tokyo Blade, everyone is a star.

And no one's served better by this kaleidoscopic focus than Kana and Akane, who are probably the true protagonists of this arc. I'm still annoyed at how dumb and retconny Akane's backstory has been treated- I swear, season 1 gave us three different conflicting backstories for her- but her rivalry with Kana over the years is the best stuff in all of Oshi no Ko. They've admired each other from afar for so long, but resent each other for their incompatible acting styles. They're determined to outshine each other but never believe they can measure up. They can't stand each other, but they're entwined by fate so deeply they know they'll never be truly alive without each other. That push and pull of wanting to live up to someone while wanting to surpass them, hating and loving them at the same time, is the singularity that makes this entire arc resonate. It's gripping and heartbreaking and beautiful, and if Aka Akasaka has any self-respect, he'll end the manga with the two of them collectively realizing Aqua isn't worth their time and marrying each other instead.

But of course, that's not gonna happen. Because Aqua is the one albatross Oshi no Ko will never be able to untangle from around its neck.

And this is why for as excellent as the Lala Lai arc is, it can't save Oshi no No. It's why nothing can save Oshi no Ko. On a fundamental level, it will never be able to shake the fact that it's saddled itself with one of the worst protagonists in all of modern anime. Or at least, one of the worst not to come out of your average seasonal isekai slop, but I don't watch enough of those to know how hellishly low the bar truly is, and I intend to keep it that way, thank you very much.

The point is, Aqua sucks. He's always sucked, he always will suck, and his mere presence in this story makes even its best ideas turn sour and ugly by the end. Even if you took out the fact he's technically a grown man involved in romantic subplots with three underage girls, he's the worst kind of edgy self-insert Light Yagami wannabe, and he forces the whole story to bend around him and suck his dick at the expense of what it's supposedly trying to say. Gut-wrenching portrayal of online hate mobs driving a young talent to suicide? Nope, it's all so he can save the day and add Akane to his harem with no further repercussions. Showing the difficulties of new idol groups struggling for attention in the modern age? Nope, just another chance for him to show off at Kana's concert and save her emotional state for her. Hell, even Kana and Akane's rivalry is tainted by the knowledge that they're ultimately fighting over this reincarnated pedophile's dick as much as for each other's respect. No matter what ideas this show tries to explore or how earnestly it tries to grapple with the realities of the entertainment industry, it always ends up coming back to "Yeah, but isn't Aqua such an edgy chad badass saving the day and getting all the bitches? Damn, what a cool brooding dude!"

In other words, the real reason the Lala Lai arc works as well as it does isn't the focus on the stagecraft process, or the expanded cast, or Kana and Akane. It's because turning into an ensemble piece means Aqua gets at little screen time as humanly possible, so he's mostly not around to fuck everyone's great moments up for a change. And even then, every time he does show up in that arc feels like all the air being let out of a balloon. And he's probably at his best during the play! At least dealing with the lasting trauma of Ai's death gives him some actual internal conflict to play with! But even that's not enough to keep the protagonist of this fucking show from feeling like a sickening, blemish on his own supposed series. And once that arc's over and the focus returns to Aqua and Ruby in the season's final third? Hooooooo boy does it immediately go to shit again. All the masturbatory chauvinism I ripped into season 1 for is back like it never left, no lessons learned from how much better Lala Lai was charting an entirely different path. Hell, it's arguably even worse, because it ends up reminding us that Ruby's just as irredeemably broken a character as Aqua at this point. I know, the teenage girl trying to marry her adult doctor who is secretly her reincarnated brother also makes this show worse? I'm shocked, I say! Shocked!

Speaking of, can we acknowledge at this point that the whole reincarnation aspect of Oshi no Ko just should not have existed? There's nothing in this story that couldn't work just as well if Aqua was just a normal edgy teen who watched his mom die as a kid and developed PTSD/a desire for vengeance from that. It's only just become even somewhat plot relevant, it's barely present in any character interactions or relationships (even between Aqua and Ruby, they almost never talk about it!), none of its themes have any reliance on their past lives to get the point across... Really, its only contribution is making every potential romantic subplot with Aqua a five-alarm emergency siren while the show limply tries to pretend he totally counts as a normal teenage boy for dating purposes, honest! It's a ten ton weight dragging the entire story down for no goddamn reason and you'd barely have to edit the earliest chapters at all to get rid of it entirely. That wouldn't fix all its problems, but it would at least make it salvageable. Which currently, despite how shockingly good this season started, it is not.

So where do we go from here? Who fucking knows. I'd like to think Oshi no Ko could somehow learn from its successes with Lala Lai and continue shooting for greater heights, but everything I've heard from my friends who've read the manga suggests that was the high point and it's all downhill from here. All I know is that for better or worse, I'm on this train to the end. If only to continue rubbing in everyone's faces that I was right from the start about what a turd this would turn out to be. But I'll save that gloating for when it's truly deserved, and god knows, it will be deserved later on based on some of the spoilers I've picked up. For now, though, I'll have to settle with giving Oshi no Ko's season season a score of:

6/10

Sayonara for now. Let's see what the future brings.

[cutebutalsostabby]

iirc you said in another post that the time between ALTTP and OOT was either 80 or 400 years. i haven’t played ALTTP yet but love timelines - are those numbers in the game somewhere?

I think I came up with those specific figures myself, BUT I do have some in-game and official text basis for them! The reason for the 80 year vs 400 years (or even longer) options is that there is actually some pretty big inconsistency between a) various parts of the game itself, b) the official game booklet, and c) Nintendo's big ole retcon of the Imprisoning War. Or possibly retCONS if we count TotK.

(Idk if you wanted an info dump, but you're getting one lol. THANKS FOR THE ASK!! 💜)

SO. The intro cutscene.

We start by hearing of legends from long ago, about a Golden Power that resides in a hidden land. Many people tried to find it; none ever returned. One day, evil power began to flow forth (we later learn this was due to Ganondorf finding the Triforce), so the King told the sages (originally translated as "Wise Men") to seal the Golden Land away for good. The narrator then describes those events as occurring so long ago that they became legend. Sounds like a while, right?

But then within about an hour or two of gameplay, you meet Sahrasrahla. Sahasrala? Saharasala? YOU MEET MR SALSA. And he ends up telling you a story about the knights that fought to protect the sages and who were almost all killed at the time, leaving YOU, the protagonist, as the last known member of that bloodline. According to Mr Salsa, those events took place only three or four generations ago.

That's not long at all! I mean, the exact numbers may vary depending on whether it's 3-4 generations from Salsa-san's point of view or Link's, as well as whether we give that person a human lifespan or an elf one (ALTTP has some Western fantasy elements, but the later games suggest that Hylians are basically just humans with pointy ears), but that would be where my ~80 years figure came from.

One of the later bits of dialogue then mentions Ganondorf rediscovering the Golden Land after the knowledge of it was lost - which may explain the discrepancy between the intro cutscene and Sahasralah(?)'s own dialogue. (I'm taking screenshots from Youtube FYI - see cutscene compilation here.)

All good so far?

WELP. THEN WE HAVE THE GAME BOOKLET.

By "game booklet" I mean the little brochure thing that used to come with physical games up until someone decided they weren't necessary. Boo and bah humbug. But I digress.

The original booklet for ALTTP, which you can find online, says that the Imprisoning War took place centuries ago. It also adds a bunch of other new lore details, including Ganondorf's last name, Dragmire - which never actually appears in-game. Both of those things are however missing from the truncated lore dump you get in the Gameboy Advance release's booklet:

And then there's Nintendo's Fallen Hero retcon. Lol.

See, the original "Imprisoning War" from ALTTP went something like this:

Ganondorf found an entrance to the Sacred Realm (formerly "Golden Land") and went in. Much like the others before him, he was then stuck there forever. UNLIKE the others before him however, he then randomly stumbled across the Triforce, which offered him the power to make a wish.

He made some unspecified wish along the lines of "I want to take over the world". As a result, the Sacred Realm became the Dark World and started to leak evil magic and demons into the Light World (aka "Overworld").

The knights fought against the demons, allowing the sages to seal the entrances ro the Sacred Realm. Note it's unclear if they even knew about Ganondorf's existence at this point.

Sometime later, Ganondorf manages to partially break free, and sends his alter ego Agahnim out to break the seal on the Sacred Realm and merge the two worlds into one.

And then we have Nintendo's retcon, which introduces the whole idea of the Fallen Hero - as a means of clumsily tying ALTTP to Ocarina of Time. So instead of the above:

Ganondorf publicly swears allegiance to the King of Hyrule, only to later backstab him and take over the castle. He then follows Link into the Temple of Time and grabs hold of the Triforce while the latter goes to take a nice long nap. He only manages to claim part of the Triforce (Power), so his wish remains incomplete. The other parts go to Link (Courage) and Zelda (Wisdom).

Seven years later, Link challenges Ganondorf to an epic showdown and loses. Ganondorf claims the remaining parts of the Triforce and uses them to transform into the Demon King. The seven sages, Zelda included, then seal both Ganon and the Triforce away in the Sacred Realm.

The names of the seven sages (per OoT) eventually become the names of the towns in Zelda II. Any remaining discrepancies are handwaved away as unreliable narrators.

Interestingly, TotK's Imprisoning War is much closer to ALTTP's version than Hyrule Historia's - which makes me wonder if that whole retcon is doomed to be retconned once again. Of course, the Triforce isn't present at all within TotK, but it's also a pretty compelling reason for why seven sages with secret stones couldn't win against the one guy with a secret stone. So there’s that.

But yeah, going back to that initial question: no, there's no specific figure provided for the time between the Imprisoning War and events of ALttP. Just depends on which piece of conflicting lore you feel like using lol.

[loveywon]

ENHYPEN AS LADY GAGA SONGS !

pairings! enhypen hyung line x gn!reader (separately) wc! 1.3k+ synopsis! enhypen as lady gaga songs ................... warnings! very slightly suggestive in jake's (aluded hookups), um little(?) angst in jay's, husband!jay x reader, heeseung situationship, sunghoon is barely touching the border of being obsessive idk, i think that's it lmk if i missed anything! not proofread who do u think i am

LEE HEESEUNG as POKERFACE

“no, he can’t read my poker face (she’s got me like nobody).”

to be fair, heeseung should’ve known better than getting into a complicated situationship with you. not that you were the ultimate heart breaker around campus or anything, but more so because you’re just too confusing. from the start, he was already enamored. you got him like you knew him since the two of you were kids, when in reality you two have only met for three months. it really wasn’t your fault, he couldn’t blame you as it was just the way you were. stoic, a bit cold, and he supposes it's how you’re able to easily read him like a children’s storybook. “how’s it going with y/n?” jay would ask every once in a while, and all heeseung can do is just shrug; how’s he supposed to know? one minute you’re ghosting, the next you’re asking him on a date and when the two of you can meet as soon as possible. “why don’t you just end things with y/n?” jay would then ask after heeseung’s previous answer, and he says in return, “i can’t.” almost like he’s addicted. maybe it’s the idea that you’re so unattainable, you won’t ever initiate a kiss nor say any affirming words unless he does it first and he wants to break you out of it. you’re exciting, it’s never the same with you. before he met you, he felt like his life was on autopilot and just doing the same routine every day. but now, he has something to expect from you, someone to keep him on his toes. he feels sick sometimes, like a sadist, he hurts whenever you ghost him or won’t really confirm you like him or not. he’s not really sure what it is about you, he feels like he’s gambling with what “type of y/n” he’ll get the next day, but one thing’s for sure, he’s hooked and can’t get enough.  (runner up was telephone for him but i ended up deciding on pokerface but PLEASE INDULGE WITH ME ON TELEPHONE HEESEUNG PLSSZEZZZ)

PARK JONGSEONG as BAD ROMANCE

“i want your ugly, i want your disease. i want your everything as long as it’s free.”

“you’re too young!” constantly rings in jay’s head. regret is a bad word to describe it, and he knows deep down that he doesn’t actually regret anything, but sometimes, just sometimes it's too much for him and he thinks you feel the same too. young and dumb is definitely something that you and jay represent, especially after literally eloping since neither of your respective families supported your relationship, not to mention marriage. it was all too surreal, the good was too good. waking up next to jay everyday felt like a dream, and jay can definitely say the same about you. the smell of pancakes in the morning stirring you awake, finding jay in the kitchen with a stupid “world’s number one husband” apron, serving the delicious breakfast onto a plate and handing it to you. “all good things come to an end” they say, but one thing that jay loves about you is that you’re stubborn, a bit headstrong, maybe a little bit too much, but it’s quite the reason why the both of you are still together. you fight like your life depends on it, and jay would find it almost painfully attractive if it weren’t for the constant back and forth screams that happens almost every day. it’s gotten so bad to the point where you’ve taken off your ring– not one, but two times, with jay following with “oh? that’s it, huh? well then, you know where the door is, right?” so condescending, you think. it’s really ugly, so hideous, it’s almost like an illness with the way your relationship plays out. “why not just be friends?” you think about at night sometimes, but both you and jay know that you both can not just be friends. you’ve seen each other's bad, the ugly, the disgusting, it’s too far to back out now.

SIM JAEYUN as SUMMERBOY

“baby you’ll just be my summer boyfriend (summerboy)!”

we have all the time in the world, you wish you could say to a sleepy jake next to you, in his bed. unfortunately for the both of you, you only have the summer. you love summer. and after meeting jake at some random friend’s pool party, you find yourself with him too often and enjoying summer way more. he’s exciting, he’s fun, he’s adventurous. he keeps you occupied, and maybe sometimes he keeps you a little ignorant of other things around you, but it’s fine, after all– it’s just for the summer. it’s all casual, but sometimes it’s hard to keep jealous feelings at bay when you see him flirting with other girls by the pool. not that he can notice anyway, your sunglasses do a fine job at hiding your green eyes as you sip on your favorite beverage. jake knows who he spends the night with, anyway. unfortunately, he’s more comfortable with you than he thought, a frown appearing on his face when he sees the sun coming down, meaning that you’re leaving him, only to do it all over again the next day until summer comes to an end. “stay?” he asks suddenly, two nights away from the fall season approaching. you stare at him blankly before laughing, assuming that he’s just joking. his frown is deeper, “i’m serious. i’m gonna miss you.” he admits, and you have to give it to him for being honest. “me too,” you reply with a grin, “you’re my summerboy, after all.” his frown curves into a boyish smile. “don’t miss me too much, though. we have next summer,” you say as you crawl out of his bed, collecting your things before waving goodbye. 

PARK SUNGHOON as PAPARAZZI

“promise i’ll be kind, but i won’t stop until that boy is mine.”

he’s such a sweet boy, he really is, until you come into the picture. global stars, the both of you. with the constant invitations to multiple movie premiers and red carpets to the point where the blinding camera flashes are just a norm now. he only got attention from the cameras because of you, really. spotted one day at your favorite cafe (which you can no longer go to now, too many fans crowd the area in hopes of seeing you) with your best friend, sunghoon. he went viral for being your rumored (ridiculously handsome) boyfriend, and many model agencies reached out to him. the both of you shut it down, but sunghoon wishes that you could’ve let the rumors stay, maybe he’ll have a chance with you. truthfully, he didn’t really relish in the spotlight and almost said no to the model agencies that reached out to him but he later came to the realization that it granted closer access to you. not long after his fame skyrocketed along with yours, many agencies desired you two to be in couple shoots (sunghoon may or may not have requested this). he hangs up every shoot or keeps every magazine that the two of you appear on, and gets a little jealous whenever his friends come over and ogle his framed photoshoots of you two or the magazines he has laying around with the both of you as the cover. he’s with you at every celebrity A-list party, making sure no one makes any wrong moves with you. he has the golden boy personality with the public, but many celebrities know that you’re off limits, thanks to the private talks and sharp stares from sunghoon. he’ll follow you everywhere until you notice the one you need is right in front of you this entire time, and he won’t quit anything for you. 

a/n ok but hear me out maknae line as justin bieber songs

[llvmos]

Hiiii I have a request- so basically dalton and reader are dating and he's like needy for reader but in the fluff kinda way he gets that aggressive love (like when you see a cat and you just wanna smother it in love) towards reader and after not seeing reader for a while he like attacks her in hugs and kisses and just A LOT OF FLUFF♡♡♡♡♡

OMG yes im obsessed with the thought of Dalton being like that. I feel like he would just constantly have his hands on the reader or would be kissing them when their trying to do something. Warnings: LOTS of fluff, gn!reader, established relationship, making out, probably ooc dalton, no plot, clingy!dalton a/n: this is the first fanfic ive ever wrote and honestly, im not too mad at it for it only being my first time ever even trying to write fanfiction. i went back and forth deciding whether or not i wanted to use 2nd person pov or 3rd person pov. so let me know which one you guys prefer (theres a poll at the bottom of this post) anyways i hope yall enjoy it!

Word count: 875

not proofread!!

I missed you. — Dalton Lambert

With fall break ending, all students at JPU are crowding the dorm halls trying to return to their rooms. You had went back home to New York to visit your family while your boyfriend, Dalton, had stayed behind in his dorm working on his upcoming art project.

As you watch the numbers next to the doors go up, you spot the one you were looking for.

223.

You pull out your key that Dalton had given you and put it into the keyhole. You turn the key and open the door.

As you walk into the room, you see Dalton sitting in his chair, painting, looking like hes thinking about adding something or changing something.

He snapped his head in your direction and looked at you as he smiled.

You brace yourself as you see Dalton coming towards you. You drop your bag of things you had brought with you.

Dalton hugs you as if his life depended it and rests his head in the crook of your neck, leaving little pecks where your neck meets your jawline. He lifts his head up and grabs the sides of your face as he brings his lips to yours with much force.

“I”

Kiss.

“Missed you”

Kiss.

“So much.”

Kiss.

You run your hands through his soft, sand-colored, waves and pull away from the kiss, ignoring his frown.

“You couldn’t of missed me THAT much, it’s only been a week.”

Dalton looked at you as if he was offended.

“Are you seriously doubting my love for you?”

“No, no, i didn’t say tha-”

Your words were cut off by his lips smashing into yours while you both smile.

“Okay, okay, love. Let me go to my dorm and unpack my stuff.” You say, after pulling away.

“What? You just got here, you’re already leaving again?”

“Stop being dramatic. My room is just a floor up.”

Dalton frowns as he gives you his best puppy dog eyes.

“Pleeeeease. Just stay a little longer? We can put your stuff away later, i missed you.”

Although you try your best, you can’t help but give into his pleads.

“Fine, but I do want to put my stuff away soon.”

His only response was multiple, repetitive kisses.

As the kiss deepens, his hands went down to grab your waist.

“I love you.” He mumbles as your lips continue moving in unison. He wraps his index fingers around the belt loops on the top of your jeans, pulling you towards his bed.

As he backs up towards his bed, the backs of his knees meet with his mattress, causing him to sit down, bringing you with him.

As you position yourself to straddle his legs, he pulls away from the kiss.

“What?” You asked, with pure confusion in your voice.

“You’re so beautiful.”

You smile and shake your head as a pink tint spreads across your face.

“So cheesy.”

His only response to your comment being him grabbing both side of your face and kissing you once more. He pulls you closer if even possible and moves his lips away from yours.

“I missed you.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell.” You responds with a heavy tone of sarcasm before placing your lips back onto his. You guys once again, get caught up in the moment and lose track of time.

“I really…need to…unpack.” You mumble in between kisses.

“Fine. Can I come with?”

“Only of you help.”

Dalton groans, telling you that he would rather stay here and continue where you guys left off.

“Either way, I gotta go unpack.”

You stand up to go walk over to your stuff when you caught a glimpse of the painting he was working on when you arrived. You walk up to it and look at it.

The painting appears to be a park bench underneath a tree, similar to the one you and Dalton were sat on when you shared your first kiss together.

“Is this what you’ve been working on all week?”

Dalton looks up and sees you looking at his painting.

“Oh. Yeah. It’s uh… Armagan told us to find our favorite memory and ‘capture it’. Her words, not mine.”

He sounded nervous and somewhat self conscious when he realized you saw his painting.

“It’s really good. Is this the park bench?”

“Yeah.” He looked away as he answered to try and avoid whatever judgement he thought you would give him.

You smile as you thinks back to that moment.

“It’s amazing.”

He looks back up to you and smiles.

“Really? I mean landscapes aren’t really my forte but i think i did pretty good. Actually, I went to the park and sat on the bench while i made the rough sketch. I wanted to get all of the details right. The tree looks a little rough though. But, I already painted it so…”

You smile and look at him.

“I missed you. A week is too long to go without hearing your rambling.” You walk up to him and kiss him before quickly pulling away.

“Upstairs. Unpack. Let’s go.”

“Ugh…fine…” Dalton groans and walks out the door but not before quickly giving you a kiss on the cheek.

“I will drag you by your ear if you don’t start walking.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

TEMPORARY THINGS, chapter 1

March 2022

The seatbelt chime dinged, signaling your arrival at Gate 43--at least that’s the number the pilot had mumbled through his headset upon your departure for Heathrow. 

Six hours overnight, not terrible overall. But the crappy neck pillow you bought back at JFK wasn’t much of a sleep aid, and neither was the weed gummy you’d popped and swallowed in the backseat of the car that arrived to whisk you to the airport. 

A flight attendant reaches for your carryon overhead, you smile and trail behind others onto the jetway. Warmer than New York, you could already tell, but only by a little. 

It dawns on you, as you read the overhead signs and weave through crowds of passengers, that your sleepless red-eye was likely due to the nerves that had been keeping you up all week. 

Had you made a terrible mistake?

No. Probably not, right? 

Carousel 21 is already littered with familiar faces when you get there--the guy from 3F that asked for headphones a whole ten seconds before take off, the woman in 5A who downed about four gin and tonics before the flight was even halfway across the Atlantic. 

You find a spot to stand and try to breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth. Maybe it was the time change, or maybe it was the fact that both of your feet were now firmly planted on London soil, a whole 3 weeks after this idea had been broached over burrata and Barolo. 

Not the amount of time you usually put into giant, possibly life-changing decisions to move to a new country and start over.

Maggie promised you’d be okay. She swore up and down and back and forth that if you’d handled this type of celebrity before, you could do it again. Hell, you’d handled bigger celebrities, so this should be a cake walk!, she said. And she was someone you could trust. She knew the ins and outs of this world and she knew you well enough to know that this type of chaos was enough to jolt some happiness back into your bitter soul.

An unforeseen break up after six years together will do that to someone. 

So here you are, startled by the aggressive sound of the buzzer when the belt starts moving. 3F grabs his suitcase and makes a beeline for the door. At least you’re not the only one desperate to get out of the stuffy airport. 

And that’s when you hear her yell your name--way too loud for barely 7am in Heathrow and way too loud if either of you had any hopes of blending in. Two Americans were bad enough. Two noisy Americans? 

She trots over to you with excitement, her arms wrap around your neck before you can even mutter a greeting in response. 

“Your mom texted my mom already and I promised photographic evidence,” she pulls away and you smile, being in Maggie’s presence is immediately calming, analgesic to the unease that set in once you reached thirty thousand feet. 

You force a dramatic smile, throw up a peace sign and pose for the camera. She giggles to herself and presses send, stuffing her phone in her pocket in the exact moment that your suitcase appears from the underbelly of the airport. 

“I’ve got it,” she calls again, still too loud. She runs and tugs it off with a grunt, and you laugh again, too, thankful for the distraction of your oldest friend. 

Maggie’s mom and your mom went to college together. Then they married each of your dads and then the two of you came along (Maggie in ‘92 and you in ‘93) and the rest is history. Your early childhood was spent building forts in her basement and by middle school, your favorite pastime was tricking your little sister and her little brother into makeovers. 

She brushes her hair out of her face, stands upright, and takes one look at you. “Okay, tell me everything.”

So you climb in the back of an Uber, Maggie nods and listens intently to details that you hadn’t shared before over facetime. Like the fight you had on your birthday last year, the way he slowly started telling you less and less about work, then friends, the way you should have seen it coming.

Maggie knew your ex, obviously. They got along overall but now she let her lip curl into an expression of disgust, her usual attempt to turn a shitty situation into something to laugh about. 

“What a dumb fucking asshole, Y/N, seriously. I never liked his stupid job or that stupid name,” she turns up the theatrics, a roll of her eyes when she commits to the bit. 

You smile a little, thankful for the 8 weeks that have since passed and the thousands of miles that now stood between you and him, literally. Both of those things made it easier to ignore the stinging in your eyes when his name came up. 

“He’s dumb,” you agree, a swift nod before you take another glance out the window. The London suburbs turn more urban, flats and parks and people on the sidewalks when she reaches over to squeeze your knee with force.

“But now you’re single and in London and your best friend in the whole world got you an amazing temp gig,” she flattered herself and grinned, a text illuminated her screen before she opened it. 

“Which, by the way, I have to be on set around 9am, so I’m dropping you off and then I have to go. But you’ll swing by? I told Jason you’d come for lunch--you know, meet everyone you need to meet.”

“Sure,” you nod, the casual mention of your new boss makes your pulse quicken slightly, you swallow and ignore it. Not your first rodeo. In fact, your lengthy resume that listed all the previous rodeos was surely part of the reason you landed this slightly nepotistic arrangement in the first place.

That and the fact that Maggie was a mid-level producer on the show, had known one of the head writers from a different project, and once upon a time dated one of Jason’s close friends. 

Pair that with your life and career practically exploding when you got dumped with no notice and within only a few weeks you had a first class ticket to London. Maggie called it magic. You called it an impulsive--and possibly irrational--decision.

But whatever. You needed work and a fresh start and hanging out at your parents’ house was getting boring, anyway. 

The car pulls to a stop and the driver helps you out onto the gray sidewalk. Maggie keys in for you and says she came to see the place with a friend to scope it out, you know, since she hadn’t done enough for you recently. 

“Okay, so obviously I got you the best thing I could find in his price limit. This location is great. Same neighborhood as moi,” she flutters her lashes. “A nine minute walk, a four minute jog.”

“Same neighborhood as my boss?” You ask, the real reason your location matters.

It was common practice for assistants to live within a 10-minute radius of their boss. Late night snack? Scheduling emergency? Your job was to meet those needs. Your job was also to handle his schedule, and to--you know--assist in whatever way he asks. 

You’d climbed the latter a bit after starting out in LA in 2012. Previous clientele included one of the Real Housewives, Reese Witherspoon, and, most recently: the famous wife of a Los Angeles Laker. 

You like this job. You liked most of the people. You loved the friends you made and the places you got to travel. And since finally crossing the Executive Assistant threshold in 2019, the pay was killer, the perks were better, and no longer spent most of your time fetching coffees or doing grunt work. 

“Of course,” Maggie rolls her eyes before checking a text message. “And I told him you’re the greatest EA he’ll ever have, he lives on the street behind this one, number 82. You can practically see into his house from your bedroom window.”

You shoot Maggie a glare, glance out the window when she throws a thumb in that direction and mentions his house. “Great.”

She holds your gaze for a second, like she’s reading your mind or something. “Wasn’t the whole point of you coming to London so you’d stop being depressed?”

You mock her childishly, voice high and annoying, “wasn’t the whole point--”

“Okay,” she holds up a hand. “Insensitive on my part,” she admits. “But you know I just want you to be okay?”

She watches you for a moment, her features soften and she blinks a few times, almost like she was unsure if you were broken altogether, with your life stuffed into the suitcase between you. 

You force a smile and open your arms. “When shit hits the fan there’s no place I’d rather be than in a foreign country with you.”

She bounces over and hugs you again, “that’s what I thought!”

**

The March air is cold, the sky’s gotten gloomier with each passing hour and eventually you had to force yourself to leave the house when you tried on your third consecutive outfit. Is there a right or wrong thing to wear on the set of a TV show? You have no clue.

Maggie met you outside a giant building at 1 o’clock sharp--one on the outskirts of town with giant parking lots and film trailers. She used a keycard to swipe in and said your first stop would be the security desk to obtain your own.

Once that was handled she led you down a maze of hallways, pointing out rooms and departments and providing information you knew you’d never retain. But that was fine, because when she pushes open the door to the main sound stage, your eyes go wide.

She watches you take it in, a smile on her face. “Pretty dope, right?”

“I mean, I knew it had to be a good gig if you got you to leave LA,” you tease. 

The room is buzzing with energy. People with headsets carry out missions, walkie-talkies beep and a woman with short brown hair smiles when she sees Maggie. 

“Mag—Brett wanted to talk about a re-write for scene 4, he was over near catering with Brendan.”

“Do you know where Jason is?” Maggie asks the woman, not bothering to introduce the two of you yet. 

“Upstairs, I think--”

“In his office,” a man clarifies when he walks by—in a rush. 

You look up at Maggie, unsure what the right move is.

She looks at the woman with short brown hair and then back at you. “Brave enough to go up there alone since I’m needed for script?”

Yes, of course, fine. You nod quickly and hope Maggie can’t see the fear in your eyes. Something told you she did, but soon she bounces off with Short Brown Hair behind her. 

It takes only a few seconds for you to realize that standing by the door alone looks more awkward than if you, too, move around this giant room like you knew where you were going or what you were doing. You saw another door in the corner, took off in that direction when someone else opened it and you caught a glimpse of stairs. 

That was a start. 

You make your way up one flight and open the door, windows in the hallway look down onto the stage, a better view of the overall set: a locker room, offices, a hallway, a tiny and fictional world with no roof that was born from someone’s imagination. 

You’d watched as a proud friend, never finished the first season after a busy week and an overall disinterest in new TV shows. 

A name plate on the door to your right confirms you’re getting warmer. A few dark offices, then the sound of humming pulls you down the hall to the only room with an open door. 

His name on a piece of paper taped to the wall in bold font, you hold your breath for a second and knock, stepping into view when you hear his voice. 

“What are your thoughts on flowers? Is that, like, too weird?” he looks up, eyebrows lifted when he realizes you’re not the person he expects. 

Standing in front of him suddenly makes you nervous, mostly because you don’t have Maggie by your side to smooth over this awkward moment. You roll with it, your best at your service smile.

“Assuming you’re talking as a gift…thoughtful, somewhat overdone,” you offer an apologetic grimace, “but simple and shows you care. Who are they for?”

He smiles at your answer, leans back in his chair and nods. You were killing it, right? Assisting before a formal introduction? You’re already excited to brag about it to Maggie tonight over a glass of Merlot. 

A tingle down your spine when he laughs a little. “A welcome gift, yeah…for my new assistant.”

“Oh,” you nod, a tiny smirk in surprise when you realize you know something he doesn’t. “Then I’d do tulips.”

Now he leans forward and puts his elbows on his desk. A smirk that he tries to hide when he lets his eyes settle on yours. Is he…flirting? “What makes you say that?”

You shrug casually, “they’re my favorite flowers…and I’m Y/N.” 

“Fuck, hi, sorry—“ he stands from his chair quickly, awkward and embarrassed as he tries to hide his surprise with a smile and extended hand. “I’m Jason. You’re Y/N,” he nods, saying it more to himself than to you. 

“I am,” you smile, watching as he rounds the corner of his desk to shake on it. “Nice to meet you--the set down there is really awesome.”

He smiles, the release of his shoulders tells you he’s glad to move past whatever just happened. His eyes follow your gesture out into the hallway and onto the stage floor. A nod, a quick glance in your direction. “Thank you, yeah—can’t believe we’re already filming again.”

“Hiiii,” Maggie’s voice sounds from the door, a cheerful grin on her face when you both turn to see her. “I see I’m not needed for an introduction,” she waves her hands around and flits her fingers in your direction.

“No, yeah, Maggie--come in,” Jason moves back to sit at his desk, which, you now realize, is just a folding chair at a folding table with a laptop. A couch along the side wall, a mini fridge in the corner and papers and red pens strewn about the table. 

Got it, a makeshift office up here since he was the guy in charge. You wondered where Maggie’s main post was, and you notice that she now has a headset around her neck and a clipboard in hand. 

“Jason, I’m very glad you get to meet my oldest friend, Y/N L/N,” she comes to put her arms around your neck, sloppy kisses to your hairline to show the unbreakable bond. “She’s the reason I work in this field to begin with and I expect that the two of you will be thick as thieves in no time.”

He smiles at that a little, lets his eyes meet yours briefly when Maggie reaches up to pinch your cheek. You swat her away, skin still prickling from the way he smiles at you. 

Maggie was obviously comfortable with him, which you gather when she flops down on the couch and a voice comes through the headset. She pushes it into her ear to get a better listen.

“Few things for you,” Jason points in your direction and searches for something on the table. A three-ring binder after he shuffles through papers, tiny black font that reads Exec. Asst stares back at you when he hands it over. 

“Jessie made this…before her maternity leave,” he informs. “Briony’s here somewhere and she’ll go through it with you, but--based on everything Maggie’s said, I’m sure you’ll jump right in.”

Right, Jessie. The woman whose job you were filling for the filming of this season due to the baby that was about to pop out of her. Briony--no idea who that was--but you make a mental note to bug Maggie for details later. 

A sound buzzes from the hallway, an alarm or something of the sort. Both Maggie and Jason perk up at the sound, you recognize it as some sort of cue that the set will soon be an active filming zone. Maggie stands from her casual position and smiles, “I can bring you around downstairs and introduce you to people, since he’s about to be busy.”

“Perfect,” you nod, a quick glance at Jason to see if that kind of thing is allowed. He doesn’t seem to notice that you’re looking for permission, he smiles when your eyes meet again but then reaches for his phone. 

“Oh, wait--here,” he hands it over, an open new contact page on the screen. You type in your name and number and figure that this will be your main form of communication, instead of the emails with Jessie and Maggie and his manager. 

You hand it back when you’re done, he glances down at the screen--was he checking to make sure you really put it in? Maggie’s nose is in her walkie-talkie again, replying to some kind of garbled request.

“She will report back when I am done with her, Sir!” Maggie salutes in jest and Jason cracks a laugh, a sliver of anxiety melting once her elbow links with yours and she tugs you out of the room. 

You meet set designers and the props team and then hair and make up. You meet the Brett you’d already heard about and get an intro to Briony when she shows up with coffee around 2pm.

Maggie eventually relented to your incessant reminders: Monday was your real first day. For now you had every right to sleep and try to get your body and brain to remember they were on the same continent. Which is why, and probably the only reason why, she eventually let you dip out.

The uber ride home is longer thanks to afternoon traffic, your head is pounding and the king sized bed in your new flat is calling your name before you can even twist the knob. But your nap gets delayed by a knock on the door when you’re rummaging for a sweatshirt in your suitcase. 

You pull it open, sure that whoever is on the other side has the wrong apartment or wrong person altogether. You’re way too new for visitors. 

But it’s not a human, not at first. Instead, a vase of yellow tulips--and a delivery man who smiles from behind them in greeting, happy Friday!, before he leaves you to open the card taped to the side. 

I heard these are overdone. Oh well. Welcome to London - JS

table of contents | talk to me

AN: Hi friends! I've been sitting on the start of this story for a few months and have been v excited to start sharing what I have so far! I do not have a post schedule for this, nor do I know how long it will be, nor is it finished at this time. As I've mentioned recently, I'm focusing a lot more on writing for FUN, so your patience and general kindness is appreciated as I share my writing for free with everyone! There also will not be a tag list for this story but it's table of contents will be pinned on my blog! My inbox is (usually) always open!

But also, I'm so fucking pumped to share this and be able to chat with all of my internet pals about our favorite middle aged man.

[randomfandomlov3]

Price of love (Chapter 2)

Warnings: Talk of fear training. Let me know if I missed any.

Note: This is kind of a filler chapter, I realize now. Thank you for reading <3

Word count ~ 1624

“Okay, so this training might be a little bit intense for some people, if at any point you need to take a break, please do so. I do not need anyone overdoing anything before we get out to the field.” You walked back and forth in front of the Avengers. You took them one by one into a more private room, before asking them to imagine a scenario where one person is badly hurt by the enemy and to take out their anger on the substitute you had in front of you. It took a few minutes for some of them to be able to use their fear. Nat and Bucky were too stoic, pretending it didn’t bother them. And then there were people like Wanda, whose emotions about the situation made her have little to no control over herself, and in turn her powers. Yet to most of their surprise, it eventually worked, and they became forces you would never want to face. Just solely due to their newly focused strength. Then you instructed them to just train as they normally would. Now they are all out in one big room. You gave them each a number and when you called it out, they had to switch to their fear training. But they had to make sure that they didn’t use it if it wasn’t their number called, because there would be times when using that will not be useful, and it can be extremely draining, physically and mentally.

“Hey, would you be able to take my car to get the gas filled while you are out?” Bruce asked you in passing. You shook your head rather aggressively. “I’m sorry I can’t do that.” He cocked his head at you. “I don’t have my licence.” You muttered feeling ashamed. Bruce didn’t give it another thought, before heading off to do whatever he had planned. You stayed there stuck in your head though. Until Sam came in to ask if you could help him figure out a gift for his nephews.

Over the next few days, you asserted yourself as a constant source of sunshine for the team, everyone had their own moment when it happened, but they all saw you as their sunshine nonetheless. Tony was the last person to have his moment because you rarely interacted for long enough. “FRIDAY, where is Tony at?” You asked the AI that seemed to always be listening.

“He is in his lab right now, but miss, I would have caution if you go in there. He is upset about something.” Her voice sounded almost annoyed if that was possible.

“Thank you, FRIDAY. I will take that into account.” With that, you got Tony’s favourite coffee and snack and headed down to his lab. Before you knocked on the door, you heard him make a frustrated noise. You decided to forgo the knocking in case he tried to get you to go away. “I brought coffee.” His eyes went wide when he realized he was no longer alone. He took the coffee and snacks and looked at you expectantly. “Did you want a hand with anything?” You asked looking around at the mess that was his lab with a big smile.

His brow furrowed as he thought about your offer. “Sure, I asked Pepper if she could, but she said that she was too busy. I need a female who can take Romanoff’s place in trying these out, making sure they fit and work.”

You cocked your head. “Why don’t you just get Natasha?”

The look on his face told you that you should already have known the answer. “You don’t just tell Natasha what to do. She needs notice, and this was a spur-of-the-moment make.”

Your phone buzzed with perfect timing, pulling it out, you saw a text from Nat. “Where are you?” Tony looked at you expectantly, as you texted god knows who. “She is on her way.” As you tucked your phone away, you told Tony.

Shock filled his expression, but he wasn’t going to question it. With his guidance, you started to help him clean up the mess. "Tony? I was told that you had something you wanted me to try out?" Nat sauntered into the room.

"Yeah, while I was trying to figure out a new upgrade for my suit, I got sidetracked. I ended up having an idea about how to make your widow bites better." They kept talking as you finished what you were cleaning then left with a smile.

There was a knock on your door a while later. When you opened the door a handsome man was standing on the other side. “Bucky! What’s up? Did you want to talk about something, or just have some quiet time?” You always knew what helped him feel better, but this time he had different plans.

“Actually, I came to see if you wanted to come with me to the Avenger’s movie night?” Pink speckled your cheeks as you nodded and followed the super soldier down into the movie room.

He sat down on the loveseat on one side of the room and gestured for your to take a seat beside him. Across the room, Sam and Steve were laughing as they tried to shove each other off of the couch. Nat and Wanda were on a blanket on the floor throwing popcorn at Steve and Sam. Bruce, Tony, and Clint were all seated on the other couch watching the scene go down.

You shifted so that you can see the screen better, and so that you were closer to Bucky. He wrapped his arm around you. Being relaxed is not something you were used to, even when you looked happy or like you were having fun, you were keeping up a mask, one that you hoped maybe one day you would be able to drop around these people. A movie you had seen a thousand times was put on and the day’s exhaustion finally caught up to you. You dropped your head onto Bucky’s shoulder causing him to look down and smile. When he looked up Nat was giving him a look that sent a chill through him, and Sam had a smug look that Bucky wished he could have wiped off. No one else seemed to notice or at least care. Tony had turned the volume up on the tv when it got to a quiet speaking part, but he forgot to turn it back down before the action started.

That startled you awake. Once you calmed your breathing, you gave Bucky a smile as if to tell him not to worry. You stretched the stiffness out of your joints from the position you had been in and not wanting to disturb the peace any longer you whispered to Bucky. “Thank you for this, but I am exhausted, so I am going to head to bed. See you tomorrow.”

He gave your hand a small squeeze as you left the room. Nat glanced over and noticed how despondent he looked; it made her wonder.

The next day when everybody woke up, they had a letter on their door with a location, time, and what to bring/wear. While everyone was getting coffee, and discussing the letters, Nat asked where you were. Everybody assumed that you were just sleeping in. Bucky wanted to ignore it, but Sam wanted him to go because his girl was going to be there.

You had tables of food and some tables with crafts and activities. It was a beautiful day for this, the sky was bright blue, and the sun was nice and bright. All the snow that had been there earlier this month had melted. It’s not spring for a little while yet, but this was your way of ushering in the spring season, with friends. You had gotten an origami expert to come teach everyone how to make origami frogs, you also had frog bean bags to play bean bag toss with.

Before the time, everyone decided that they would head over a little bit early to make sure it was not a trap. While in the shadows, they heard you humming to yourself. They watched as you fiddled with the things on the table to make sure they were perfect. Nat smiled thinking about all of the effort her close friend put into this. After a little while some agents from SHIELD started showing up, ones that Nat knew were a part of the team that you used to lead. You kept looking around between checking the time and frowning. This prompted the Avengers to all look at the time, and they realized that it is already past the time you had asked everyone to meet up. They stepped out from hiding. Your face lit up when you saw them all there.

“What is this for Лунный свет?” Nat asked giving you a big hug.

“Well, I thought that it would be a fun day to celebrate, since no one had any missions right now, and this means that spring is on its way soon. Lots of the activities for the day involve frogs, but that’s because it’s the leap day, and what better creatures to represent it? I also thought this would be a good time for you all to meet the other agents that will be coming on the mission with us.” You rambled out as you showed them around.

The day went by with lots of laughs and mostly failed origami because the boys wouldn’t stop goofing around. However, Sam did successfully make a little hat in one of his failed attempts. You had never seen everyone this freely happy, it gave you peace.

Chapter 3

[tired-biscuit]

Hear me out- Motorcyclist!Kiba 😩

please don’t do this to me, i have enough kiba brainrot as it is and imagining him being a biker is gonna make me slam my dumb little head against the wall cos like…….. the JACKET AND THE HELMET?? THE GLOVES?? HELLO?????

i actually saw a tiktok where the guy was asking for a girl’s number while he was on the bike, and he was brave but like so adorably nervous at the same time; like you could see it through the helmet and the body language and by the way how his hands were all over over the place and it was so cute!!

anyways, have this little thing i wrote down below!!

fem!reader // cw: none

i can picture him doing that, where you’re both exchanging glances that are not at all secretive while you’re both waiting side by side at a red light. it goes back and forth for a couple of seconds and it’s playful and fun; he’s clearly checking you out whilst you’re doing the same to his figure, since you can’t see his face.

he’s nice on the eyes. his shoulders are broad and he looks jacked as fuck in the black jacket. the pants make his ass look great even if he’s sitting down on the bike. you can see how his clothes tighten in all the right places when he finally gathers enough courage to lean over, applying steady weight to one foot, and gently taps your car window with one gloved hand.

when you roll it down, he flicks the visor of his helmet up, and before you know it, you’re met with these big, gorgeous brown eyes that just look so warm when they finally connect with your own.

the sight makes your lungs tighten. it’s like you’re staring at rich summer honey; words cannot possibly give his irises enough justice no matter how many adjectives you’d pick. if looks could kill and mend at the same time, it’d be this one.

they crinkle at the corners, his eyes. lighten up when you start to become obviously flustered because of the eye contact. he’s smiling underneath the helmet, the bastard.

“hi,” said bastard says, now.

“hi,” you feebly manage back. your throat feels so unbearably tight all of a sudden. must be the nerves, perhaps even the bashfulness. since when are you one to act so skittish?

silence lingers, the light continues to shine red.

goddammit, get it together!

“can i help you?” you ask cheekily, feeling proud and a little bit more like yourself, now that you’ve also initiated something and that it’s no longer just him putting himself out there.

“oh! yeah, umm… shit, i—” your small, and also very sudden, moment of bravery clearly throws him off. he wasn’t expecting it, so he breaks eye contact by blinking and shaking his head, and lets out a noise that reminds you of a boyish snicker. meanwhile, you burst into quiet laughter in response.

it’s completely lighthearted instead of mocking. you hope that he can tell the difference.

“take your time,” you utter whilst tapping your fingers against the steering wheel, the action just a tad bit complacent. jerking your chin forward, you decide to gesture towards the line of cars in front of you as you add, “it’s not like i’m going anywhere any time soon.”

“hah… yeah.” he rubs his hands over his thighs just to do something. “rush hour, am i right?”

“small talk about traffic,” you mumble, quirking a playful brow. “is that really the best you can do?”

“no. god no, i just— ugh…” he’s jittery as hell now as he tries to keep his cool at your teasing, however you’re pleasantly surprised to find out that his voice is still pretty much perfectly steady after he readjusts on the bike, takes a deep breath and says, “look, m’sorry if i’m being too forward with this, but i just couldn’t help but notice how pretty you are, and i… uh, i guess i wanted to ask you for your number. if that’s cool with ya, of course.”

you smile at the way he words it; at the way his eyes flicker all over your face during it. it’s cute, the way he acts. his mannerisms. how big he is. how goddamn corny that entire jumble of a sentence was, that it somehow even managed to end up endearing at the same time.

you have no clue what overcomes you in that exact moment, what coaxes you to keep flirting with this cute stranger who you don’t even know the name of, but all of a sudden you catch yourself saying, “i’ll give you my number if you take me for a ride on your bike.”

he’s visibly baffled by your answer, because now you can see his eyes widen and his pupils dilate as he says, “shit, like right now?”

“not now, dummy.” you laugh, shaking your head whilst you type in your number in your phone’s keypad and turn the screen towards him. “i’m running late for work right now, but… maybe we could arrange something in the future, yeah?”

“yeah. yeah, of course!” he stumbles on his words as he quickly unzips his pocket and pulls his own phone out. you watch him fumble a bit because of the gloves before he manages to snap a picture of your phone’s screen and glances at you again.

you look at each other for a second too long for it to be considered purely platonic right from the beginning, and it makes your heart start to race. for fuck’s sake, you don’t even know what this man’s face looks like, and yet you can already feel a crush developing somewhere deep within.

“well,” you utter. “you have my number now.”

“thanks.” his eyes crinkle at the corners once more. genuine. “you know, to be completely honest with ya, i didn’t think you’d actu—”

a honk that sounds out from a car that’s situated right behind him interrupts him mid-sentence and makes him jump in his seat. the light had turned green, and that makes people get awfully impatient awfully quick, despite the fact that there’s a proper movie scene from a cheesy romcom unfolding before their very eyes. suckers.

you watch as he hastily tucks his phone back into his pocket and slides into position on the motorcycle. the movement is smooth, expert. natural. he’s clearly no rookie.

he revs the engine twice before he casts you one last look and says, “i’ll text you, okay?”

a grin stretches over your lips. “is that a promise?”

you catch the small wink he gives you before he flicks the visor back into place. “make it a pinky one, sweetheart.”

and just like that, before you can even reply or fuss over the sweet pet name, he’s off. you watch him turn smaller and smaller on the road until it’s your cue to drive off as well. damn.

minutes pass as you listen to the radio and sing along to the songs you’re familiar with. by the time you finally arrive to work and start your shift, you’re feeling pleasantly giddy by the entire exchange. even your feet feel lighter with every step. love, if you could call it that, can be a silly thing at times.

that is until a sudden thought crosses your mind.

oh god, what if he’s ugly underneath the helmet?!

[elementary-my-dear-daddy]

Earning Your Keep

Analogical (Virgil & Logan)

This story will be a series for the sugar daddy idea i've had running around in my head for some time now lmao. I really hope you guys like it since I enjoy writing it :)

Read it on AO3!

Virgil likes to take care of those he holds close, and maybe also a stranger that offered him a ride home.

Virgil was never rich. His family was big and his parents couldn’t make very many ends meet for most of his life, leading him to work his way through school. Once he graduated with a bachelors in psychology, he picked up two jobs to start paying off his loans, one in retail which drove his mental health into the ground, and the other as a behavioral health tech at a rehab center, which only had night-shift positions open and kept him up all night. He was paid and treated like shit, and on the cusp of breaking down when he got extremely lucky. For his 27th birthday he got the usual card with a cheesy message from his grandparents, but instead of the typical twenty bucks or a gift card, he found a lottery ticket sitting neatly inside. He didn’t think much of it, handing it over to the convenience store clerk when he was picking up an energy drink before his next shift.

“I don’t think this is worth anything, but if it has anything on it can I just use it to pay for this?” Virgil put his drink on the counter while the clerk scanned the ticket.

“Woah, woah. Oh my god.” 

“What?”

“Dude, you just won.”

“Huh?” Virgil knit his brow in confusion. He glanced over at the cashier’s screen, noticing the rather large number it displayed.

“Yeah, you won the jackpot! It’s over like 200 million! Holy shit! Here, sign it and take it to a lawyer!” The person handed him back the slip of paper and a pen. Virgil’s brain had short-circuited, causing him to just follow instructions. He didn’t really understand what was happening, so he just took the ticket back and walked out and back to his car, driving straight home and immediately typing ‘what to do if you win the lottery’ into his computer.

A bunch of results came up saying a bunch of stuff- tax experts, lawyers, and a bunch of steps that caused Virgil to lay down on his bed and rock back and forth for a little while. He didn’t believe this was happening to him. Maybe it wasn’t real? This was just a nightmare right? A really good bad nightmare.

All the things he saw online said not to tell anyone, but he couldn’t just sit there not making a decision. He picked up the phone and dialed the only person he knew who could possibly help him out.

~~~~~~~~~~

“You what ?” Janus’ voice hissed through the speakers on Virgil's phone, “Is this some weird joke, because it isn’t landing well.”

“No, no, I promise it's real, I-I checked and the numbers match up and I verified it at the gas station and, and-”

“Virgil, breathe. Calm down. I’m coming over so we can talk. I’ll help you get this figured out, and make sure you aren’t having delusions of grandeur.” Janus sighed, “I’ll be there in 10.”

Janus was over shortly, Virgil working with him to figure out the next course of action. Everything was going so fast. The next day Janus helped him set up meetings and accounts, and get lawyers and a budget going. The week flew by in between the contracts and calls. Even the next few months seemed to go by in a blur of bureaucratic processes. 

The first thing he did was set his parents up with a decent place to live and help them with their debts and medical bills. He did the same for himself, getting his student loans paid off finally and allowing himself to move into a spacey yet cozy penthouse. He quit both his jobs, but tried to end on a good note with his boss at the clinic in case he did ever want to go back. He was, probably for the first time in his life, comfortable.

~~~~~~~~~~

Time kept passing and Virgil had to now figure out what he wanted to spend his time on. He’d picked up his passion for music again now that he could afford nice equipment, but never had the intent to go anywhere with it. He looked into some online classes he could take, just for fun and to keep his mind stimulated. He even worked with Janus and some of his lawyers to start a charity for helping disabled students with loans that didn’t have the luck that he had. That was as close to a job as he had, once they had an office set up he made a regular schedule to help sort things out with it.

The routine he made helped him adjust to his new life. Getting up, going to the office, processing applications, working on his classes and playing music. He didn’t really spend his money anymore beyond his needs. Nothing fancy brought him much happiness. He didn’t host parties or have many friends that hung out with him before he became well off. He’d tried to go on a few dates, but the people he’d seen either knew him from the news when he originally won or they’d act disinterested until he brought up his money. The one time he actually thought he’d found someone he was interested in, the guy had thrown a fit that he wanted to end their 3rd date early to not have a panic attack.

They went to a planetarium, which for the most part Virgil enjoyed, but the segment about how small of a spec the earth was in the grand scheme of the universe triggered the existentialist anxiety of dying alone and not mattering. He had to run out and go calm down, but that proved difficult with his date shouting.

“Do you know how fucking rude it is to just run out on your date? I had to pay for these tickets, you know, and they aren’t cheap!”

“I-I know, i’m sorry, I can, um, here I’ll pay you back-” Virgil started to reach for his wallet.

“Whatever, it’s fine, let’s just see if they’ll let us back in, cmon.” The guy tugged at Virgil’s arm.

“Um…Actually I was wondering if…s-sorry uh, could- could we just go home?”

“What, are you not having a nice night? You could at least not waste my time, you know.” 

“I know, I'm really sorry, we should- maybe, uh… you can go and I’ll just head home and call an uber-”

“Ugh are you serious?” His date frowned, “You know what? Just go, I don’t wanna deal with this anymore. Don’t call me again, we’re done.” 

He watched his date head back into the planetarium and sighed, resigning himself to a bench outside to shake off the rejection. He shivered as a spike of anxiety hit him. He had to count his breaths, but it wasn’t working. He was gonna end up alone and live a completely inconsequential life that had no impact whatsoever and-

“Are you alright?”

Virgil looked over at a man a few feet away from him. He stood tall, sporting glasses and a polo with the logo of the planetarium. Virgil didn’t couldn’t quite make out the name on the man’s name tag through his watery eyes. Oh shit, was he crying? No no no this couldn’t happen in public, he was a grown man crying in public-

“Oh, apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just thought I should intervene.” The man looked at Virgil with concern, “May I sit?”

Virgil nodded, easing slightly as he did. He took a shaky breath and wiped away his tears, “I-I’m so-sor-ry. I could-n’t stay in there. S-sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologize, take as much time as you need to gather yourself.” He spoke calmly. His tone comforted Virgil enough to steady his breathing and collect his thoughts.

“I’m…I’m good. Sorry.” Virgil sighed, “Just had a shitty date.”

The man frowned, “I see. Was he your ride home?”

Virgil nodded, “Figured I’d just get a cab or something.”

“Don’t waste your money, my shift just ended. If you’re comfortable with it I’d be happy to offer you a way home.”

“No no I can’t, I mean- It’s fine it’s not like money’s the issue I just don’t wanna leave him here alone.”

“After he just left you?” 

Virgil looked towards the doors of the planetarium. He slumped his shoulders in resignation, “I guess you’re right.”

“I don’t mean to intrude on your personal affairs, but he is not worth your time if he does not respect your boundaries, and I don’t feel comfortable leaving you in a potentially unsafe environment. I would feel much more assured if I knew you returned home unharmed.”

“Fuck it, ok.” Virgil sighed. He looked over at the man and was able to see him a little more clearly. His name tag attached to a Dr. Who lanyard read Logan in bold font. He looked rather lanky and had bags under his eyes comparable to Virgil’s own.

“Would you like another minute to calm down or would you like to walk with me to my car now? I don’t mind waiting.”

“Uh, no, we can go now. Th-thank you, um, Logan.” Virgil offered a half smile.

“Of course, uh…”

“Virgil.”

“Virgil.” The man- Logan, stood up and motioned for the other to follow him.

Virgil stood and accompanied him to the car. It wasn’t the fanciest thing in the world, far from it. It looked like one of the windows had been punched out and was covered with cardboard and duct tape. It looked like an older car, and when they got in Logan had to start the engine a few times before it actually got running. 

“Please excuse the state of my car,” Logan said pulling his seatbelt on, “I’d fix the window on my own if I could but I’ve been too busy to do so. Here, do you mind putting your address in so I can get directions?”

Logan handed Virgil his phone, the other quickly inputting the info and handing it back. Virgil fastened his own seatbelt as they drove out of the parking lot.

“So, you work at the planetarium?”

“My shirt indicates so.”

“Right.” Virgil nodded, “What started that?”

“I needed a part-time job to work during nights while I attended college. I studied astronomy and a professor recommended applying for the position. The job just stuck after I graduated.” 

“That sounds pretty cool. You get to go to all those shows, right?”

“No, I get to sit in the ticket booth.” 

“Oh.” Virgil looked out the window as they drove, “I didn’t realize.”

“It's alright,” Logan said, shrugging, “I’ve seen them all anyway, when I had more free time.”

“You can’t take a day off?”

Logan’s lips pursed, “Not really. I work two other jobs.”

They both spent the rest of the ride in silence until the car approached the area where Virgil lived.

“You…live over here?” Logan questioned, looking around at the tall, well-kept buildings of the city.

“Um, yeah. I guess.” Virgil sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, “I moved here a few months ago. Doesn’t feel like it though.”

Logan hummed in acknowledgement, still looking around at how different this place seemed compared to where he lived. He pulled up to a decorative building with too many stories to count from his view. He parked the car and turned to Virgil.

“Thank you for allowing me to take you home. I’m sorry you had a rough night but hopefully you’ll find someone else that will accommodate your needs appropriately.” Logan offered a smile.

Virgil returned it, before clumsily reaching to take off his seatbelt and pull out his wallet, “Uh, here.”

He offered a wad of cash to Logan, who in return pushed it back, “No, please don’t worry about covering gas. It isn’t far from my-”

“Take it. Get your window fixed too. And if you need anything else just, um, give me a call or something. Thanks again, Logan.” Virgil said, getting out of the car and shutting the door.

Logan watched him greet the doorman (his building had a doorman?) and head to his apartment, before staring down at the cash. It added up to about $350, plus Virgil's business card. He blinked and debated trying to go after him, but decided he wouldn’t be able to find him since he didn’t know which apartment was his. He pulled out his own wallet and stuffed the cash inside. The card Virgil had given him had his name and number, along with the name of a charity Logan heard the name of a few times from the news. This was too much to process, so Logan just put the card in with the cash and drove home. That was a problem for someone much more well rested.

~~~~~~~~~~

Virgil flopped down on his bed as soon as he got home. He pulled out his phone and immediately blocked his date’s number, writing him off as just another insensitive asshole trying to take advantage of him. He let his mind relax in the safety of his home and tried to just forget about tonight. Except Logan. He couldn’t get him out of his mind.

Working two jobs had Virgil on the verge of a panic attack almost every night, he couldn’t imagine working three like Logan had. And how long had he been driving that car? Wasn’t it dangerous to drive when your engine doesn’t turn over and you don’t have a window? Those bags under his eyes, was he not sleeping well? Was the money he gave him enough to cover everything? 

Virgil exhaled through his nose and flipped onto his back. These were morning problems. Or at least wake up at 3 am and worry about life problems. He glanced at his clock- 10:30. Definitely something to deal with tomorrow.