#at a state competition in middle school? do you know how much that can fuck a kid up??

[nope-body]

.

[queenimmadolla]

hello!

can we please do black!reader feeling insecure and robin by fingering her in front of a mirror👀

thank you🤍

*aggrivating middle school teacher who everyone hates voice* i dunno, CAN we???

YES. YES, WE CAN.

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠

(Robin Buckley x Black!Reader)

warnings: insecurity, fluff, smut (fingering) and lesbian stuff. very gay.

a/n: this reader is black as stated above, while there aren't a ton of descriptors (read it over and was surprised at that considering i was imagining me while writing it lol) but the implications are very much so there and i just have to make it known. this was very therapeutic for me, Robin deserves a canon black gf ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ tagging also as robin x reader for my black babes who don't bother even using the black!reader tag since there aint much out there for us ♡

It had been a very trying season for you.VERY. 

Band season, anyways.

See, nothing sucked more than seeing your girlfriend with her ex-fling and unfortunately, you had to deal with it a lot, making sure to always show up to Robin’s competitions and events (though those were kind of mandatory since you were also a high school student). And because life hates you, Robin was always placed like right fucking next to Vickie.

You knew about their past, had been forced to witness their—albeit brief—relationship until they both got tired of dating their personality clone and determined they’d be better off as friends. A couple weeks later, a lonely Robin finally opened her eyes and realized you were right there the whole time and it didn’t take long until you began seeing each other.

That short period of time was kind of the problem. Halfway through your friendship with Robin, you’d realized you were in love with her. You hadn’t known how to feel since you were coming to the realization you were gay, then she came out to you and you suddenly felt ecstatic about your secret. Mostly. 

It was annoying when she began to pay attention to Tammy Thompson but you didn’t get a vibe from her so it didn’t kill you. 

When Steve Harrington started sniffing around her, you weren’t all that bothered, knowing she’d never return his feelings. Then you came out to her. 

You were kind of hoping you’d go right to the confessions of love, kisses and happily ever after but that hadn’t happened. It had been disappointingly realistic; she’d told you she was glad you trusted her and that was that.

Then V ickie was suddenly in Robin’s gravitational pull. She had a boyfriend her entire high school career then of course the moment Robin started liking her, suddenly he wasn’t in the picture anymore. It hurt to see her slowly take your spot in her life. Suddenly, sleepovers with Robin weren’t as frequent and then stopped altogether as she did them with Vickie instead—and it killed you to imagine what they were doing at those sleepovers. She stopped spending time with you, too. It was so noticeable, people would stop and ask you about why you weren’t with her or why she wasn’t around and you just had to awkwardly shrug it off.

When they broke up, she of course came back to you and like some stupid pathetic teenager, you acted like you had no dignity and welcomed her back with open arms, as if she hadn’t abandoned you for some pretty Molly Ringwald lookalike. Two weeks later, she invited you to the fair and kissed you at the top of the Ferris  Wheel. And despite feeling very much so like the second choice, you had kissed her back.

Flash forward to the school pep rally and you were constantly looking over your shoulder, at the area of the stands the band was occupying, where your girlfriend was being chatted up by the pretty redhead. You knew they were still on friendly terms and you wouldn’t tell Robin but it bothered you.

It bothered you so bad, your eyes would always get a little shiny due to how stupidly butt hurt seeing them together made you, all because they looked good.

They looked like they went with each other. Sure, people wouldn’t look at the two girls and think they were a couple since that would go against, like, the homo sapiens agenda or something, but to those who were like you, it would be immediately apparent they made a pretty couple. 

No one would think that about the two of you. Because you didn’t look like Vickie. Or like Robin.

You got so in your head about it, you started to feel sick. You’d informed the teacher whose class you’d come to the pep rally with you weren’t feeling well and quickly slipped off to the nurse’s office.

 You hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Since she was just a high school nurse, she’d told you to lay down on one of the uncomfortable gurney-thingies until you felt better. You’d closed the curtain to your area and cried there for a good hour before she eventually called your parents to pick you up, only disturbing you to gently inform you on when they had arrived and were waiting for you at the front office. You huffed out a sigh and got up, grabbing your backpack, you yanked the curtain open.

You inhaled sharply when you immediately locked eyes with your girlfriend sitting on one of the chairs lining the wall. Suddenly, you were very conscious of the black mascara trails under your eyes and cheeks.

You made sure the nurse was in her personal office and out of hearing range before asking, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m sick,” she grinned sheepishly, obviously not sick as she waved a note she’d received from her teacher. “I saw you leave the gym earlier and I got worried. As soon as we got back to class and I got out of that stank band uniform, I decided I was sick, which I mean isn’t totally untrue since I’m worried sick about you and I needed to make sure you were okay.” 

You felt your face get hot, “Well, I’m okay.” Liar.

Robin pursed her lips, not believing you for one second. 

“Are you sure?” Because it didn’t look like it, it was obvious to her you’d been crying and the fact you were attempting to play it off made her more concerned. You always told her when there was something wrong, always talked to her. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Was just . . . It’s nothing.” You didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. You’d done this to yourself, anyways.

She glanced around to make sure you two were still alone before she got up from the chair, leaning in to whisper, “You know you can tell me anything, right?” 

Robin even had the metaphorical balls to reach out and cup your cheek, thumb swiping along your cheek and smearing the mascara trail. Daring, considering neither of you were publicly out since the Midwest wasn’t so kind about it. Showing affection in public places was a dangerous move but Robin needed to touch you, comfort you.

You sniffled and caved, “I just—I saw you and Vickie together and you just looked. . .” 

You trailed off as the stupid tears began to form on your waterline again, “You looked like you go together, like you belong together.”

Robin frowned, displeased with what you were subjecting yourself to. She had no more romantic interest in Vickie, it was purely platonic. Truth be told, she didn’t really like interacting with her all that much, it was kind of awkward since Vickie would just start word-vomiting. Before, it was endearing to her but after their relationship had ended, the word-vomiting wasn’t out of nerves, it was due to awkwardness. Neither one of them was sure how to continue on being friends since they hadn’t been friends in the first place so it was just terribly awkward and usually one-sided conversation.

“Well we don’t. I belong with you.” It was surprisingly firm, something you were unused to hearing come from Robin unless she was annoyed.

It looked like she was going to say more but the nurse popped her head out of her office and you both sprang apart.

“Dear, you’re still here? I thought you’d left to go home already.”

“I’m on my way out,” You promised, heart beating wildly at having almost been caught. It seemed to satisfy her, she disappeared again, leaving you and Robin to trade that was close looks.

“Can I come over tonight?” Robin blurted out, hands twitching at her side, wanting nothing more than to hold your face again.

You nodded, pulling the straps of your backpack on.

She looked relieved and almost leaned in, no doubt to give you a kiss, before she caught herself. “Okay, I’ll see you soon?”

“Yeah,” you whispered out before scurrying out of the room.

You’d told your parents your illness was just some bad cramps, so they had no problem letting Robin come over. It meant they didn’t have to deal with your mood swings since you weren’t notoriously friendly during that time of the month.

Later that night, when Robin walked into your room, the first thing she did was lock your bedroom door.

“Alright, you beautiful human being.” She awkwardly tried kicking her converse off and cursed under her breath when she couldn’t because of how tightly they were laced. After she aggressively pulled at the laces, she yanked them off her feet and fell back on your bed, leaning back on her arm. She parted her legs and tapped the space on your blankets between them. “C’mere.”

You immediately crawled over, ready to straddle her but she tutted, manhandling you until your back was to her chest and you were staring at your reflections in the mirror attached to your dresser. 

“There we go,” She chirped, arms wrapping under your bust as her chin settled over your shoulder. “See, I don’t ever want to invalidate your feelings because I love you, but it’s mind boggling to me that you would think Vickie and I look good together when we so obviously look like soulmates.”

You frowned at her reflection, “We do?”

“Oh, we do. You and I look so good together. Of course, mostly because you’re so freaking pretty,” She didn’t break eye contact as she pressed a kiss to your neck. Her lips didn’t leave the area, “And it kills me that you can’t seem to see that.”

That does it.

You burst out laughing, nose scrunching and body shaking as you let your weight collapse back into her. Robin rolled her eyes, unwinding her arms from around you so she could lean back on her hands to wait for you to calm down.

“I’m sorry!” You croaked out, still laughing like a hyena. In your fit, you ended up falling of the bed, back to your carpet as joy filled every cavern of your chest. 

Her lips pursed comically, obviously trying to hold back her own smile. She knew what had been the cause of your case of the cackles, Robin could be bossy and she was hot, you thought she was so hot, but.

But. But. But.

She could not be intentionally sexy. On accident? Sure. On purpose??? Not so much. And you didn’t mean the way she dressed, which was hot too. She just couldn’t be very dominating. It was cute when she tried, because you knew she was trying so very hard to not be awkward. 

“I’ll wait,” The way she said it, like a substitute teacher who couldn’t wrangle their class was intentional, she even sat up and clasped her hands in her lap.

“I’m sorry,” You apologized once more, sitting up as your laughter turned to giggles. Once those were under control and you were smiling like an idiot, you knee-waddled back over to her. Robin made sure to keep you at bay with her hands outstretched to block access to her lap. “C’mon, tell me all about it!” 

“No, you lost that privilege.” There was no sincerity to it, her pretty mauve lips were curled into a teasing smile. “Go laugh some more.”

“Please?” You asked, eyelashes batting up at her. She was a sucker for your eyes—and really looking forward to sex—so she caved immediately, though you didn’t climb back onto your spot, choosing to tackle her to the bed and pin her hands to the bed instead as the both of you laughed.

You were about to trail your hands lower, towards her armpits where you knew she was the most ticklish when your brain registered she wasn’t not laughing anymore. You blinked down at her, taking in the shift of the atmosphere.

Robin was staring up at you, blue eyes full of adoration, reverence, her lips parted a little almost like they were frozen around a soft gasp. She was looking at you like she couldn’t believe you existed, let alone existed as her girlfriend. 

She’d had her fair share of crushes, dream girls, likes-at-first-sights. Had one prior relationship, one that made her long for the formers just because of how much work she hadn’t known went into relationships. 

Vickie was nice, sweet and a little too much like her. It was annoying, she’d begun to think Vickie was annoying and that was when she realized how unfair she was being. Ever see those tv shows where the best friends are so in sync, they’re talking in unison? Constantly saying the same thing at the same time? Yeah, there was a reason why they were just friends. It’s cute the first couple of times, creepy and agitating the rest.

She’d felt like such a failure when they called it quits, though. Robin finally had one of the dream girls interested and it didn’t work out. It felt real shitty. She vowed to go easier on Steve, if he felt like that all the time, he deserved a break from her antagonizing.

Then you happened. Well, you were always there, swooping in when Barb had abandoned her in favor of being friends with Nancy—okay, that was a little mean, Robin could have easily interacted with both, she was just in her ‘I’m not like those girls’ phase, which you put up with—didn’t even seem to mind when she started hanging out a little more with Steve than she did with you (you did, just hurt in silence), always answered your phone when she needed you, like you had some sort of Robin Senses. 

Yeah, you were always there. Hadn’t even been doing anything when she came to the realization. You’d been laughing at some memory Jonathan and Will had been telling, your hyena cackle echoing in Nancy’s basement and Robin had the most tit-clutching thought about how much she loved your laugh, how much she loved you.

And she knew she had a chance with you—or at least fit the demographic you wanted to appeal to—so she hadn’t hesitated, not willing to waste a single second. She’d been stupid in love and somehow gayer ever since.

“I do, though.” She rasped out into the tension filled air between the two of you.

“Huh?” Came your very in-sexy reply.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you,” your hold on her loosened as she rose from the bed and you found yourself once more perched in her lap as she whispered your name, “You’re . . . Everything.”

The emotion she conveyed behind it had slick pooling in the heat between your thighs.

You didn’t protest when she maneuvered you back into position, staring at her reflection in the mirror. 

“Eyes on you,” She commanded and your gaze darted to the side, to stare into your own eyes. Your breath hitched as she undid the buckles to your overalls and you lifted your hips to help her push them down your thighs, body temperature rising the moment they hit the floor. 

“Pretty,” She commented as she hooked a finger into the side of your yellow panties and you winced, wishing you’d gone with one of the few sexy pairs you had instead of just a cotton pair. They weren’t as easy to get off, you’d thoroughly soaked the center so they stuck to your labia. When she’d managed to pull them away, down the meat of your thighs, a thick, clear string of your slick refused to part with them, Robin had to run her fingers through it to sever the connection and her whimper did nothing to help with your waterpark down there.

“Okay—Jesus—I know I’m not really great at sounding super sexy with my words, but babe, thatwassofuckinghotohmygod.” She hadn’t even pulled your panties completely off yet, they remained just above your knees since she couldn’t be bothered to do anything but rub your excitement between her fingers. 

Oh. Your mouth dropped open, as you watched her suck her digits into her mouth, eyes fluttering closed as she hummed around them before pulling them back out, tongue pressing against the roof of her mouth to savor the taste of you.

“And you taste so fucking good, too. It’s not fair.” She whined before she went straight to business, ring and middle finger reaching down to nudge at your clit and when you inhaled sharply, she began teasing it, rubbing little circles into the sensitive patch of nerves.

Your head dropped back onto her shoulder as you whimpered.

“Uh-uh, eyes on the mirror, babe.” Her ministrations slowed, forcing you to raise your head and stare at your disheveled reflection. Your forehead was beginning to shine, sweat already beginning to break through your skin. 

The moan that came out of you when her fingers dipped low, past your clit to rub at your hole was near pornographic and Robin had to quickly slap her free hand over your mouth, refusing to stop the descent of her fingers but unwilling to have your parents ruin it.

“Shh, baby, you have to be quiet,” She whispered against your ear, pressing a kiss to the skin behind it.

“I can’t,” you whined against her palm, smothering another one of those moans against her palm when her middle finger slipped easily inside of you followed shortly by her ring finger. She was ruthless, plunging, curling and dragging them against your walls, “‘s so good!”

It wasn’t long before the sound was apparent, a delicious squelch every time her nimble fingers plunged in and out, never fully leaving the warmth of your cunt. 

“Almost there,” she sighed out, breath hot against your neck. Robin licked her lips, brows furrowed as she reached a little deeper, fighting off a proud smirk when she heard you keen, chest heaving—and yeah, she kind of regretted not taking your shirt off so she could stare at your tits but another time—as she finally found that spongy spot inside of you, finger pads pressing insistently at it.

Just like magic, you melted; body going lax as you relaxed completely into her embrace. Robin loved to get you like this, you always became so pliant when she found your g-spot, like a ragdoll Robin could have her way with. It also meant she was finger fucking you so good you legitimately couldn’t form words, could barely make a sound, forced to pant out huh-huh-huhs as she bullied your pussy, thumb coming in to the mix to play with your clit and resume those tight circles from earlier.

“There we go,” she let out a breathless laugh and your head lulled to the side, body puddy in her hands and thighs quaking over hers. “You gonna come for me? Squeezing my fingers awful tight.”

You were about to try to tell her to shut up, or maybe beg for her not to stop when your eyes locked on the mirror again, gaze taking in your sweaty face once more before glancing at Robin’s reflection. She wasn’t staring back at you, no, her gaze was locked on the reflection of what her hands were doing between your thighs. That area of the mirror ended up attracting your attention, too.

It was completely obscene, you could see your slick coating your inner thighs, your mound and her fingers every time she pulled them out, pale skin and pink knuckles glittering with your wetness, a contrast to the dark shade of your legs surrounding them. Even her thumb was coated, pressing it into your clit as she massaged it. A beautiful mess, while it was clearly your body and you could simply look down to see her taking you so thoroughly apart, it was somehow more vulnerable to see it happening to your reflection, to the pretty, sweaty girl sat on your girlfriend’s lap.

You really were beautiful. 

You choked on a moan, eyes squeezing shut as your orgasm hit you hard and Robin cursed under her breath as you pulsed around her fingers, squeezing, squeezing, squeezing.

She didn’t relent even as she felt you get wetter, rubbing furiously at your clit to prolong it for you, didn’t stop until you whined and reached a hand down to yank hers out of you when it became too much. 

Robin pressed a smattering of kisses to your hairline as you heaved, then turned her head to the side as she sucked your spend off your fingers like honey, making sure they were coated in her spit and she hadn’t let any of it go to waste. 

You watched her reflection, took in how pleased she looked with herself before those pretty blue eyes were on you again, winking at you through the mirror.

“Told you we look good together.”

[gureumcity]

10 months

💌 pairing: lee hyunjae x reader, lee juyeon x reader 💌 genre: oneshot, dating bet!au, professional dancer!juyeon 💌 warning: profanity, long term heartbreak (it's kinda toxic so i put it here just in case) 💌 word count: 7.7k words 💌 author's note: was honestly inspired by the olympics, watching figure skating but i just didn’t see any of them figure skating. so if it doesn’t make sense, sorry in advance. enjoy the read as always.

[ when what you believe is a beautiful relationship, turns out to be a total lie, you lose trust in yourself more than in the boy. you shut yourself out and stop living. even when another someone helps you out and brings you back into the world again. you may be thankful but you're never quite over the first. the one who hurt continuously hurt you. over and over again. ]

"i swear to god. you're just like how everyone said!," your thundering voice was heard across the hall of your apartment complex. surely, the neighbors were annoyed. but nothing compared to the humiliation and anger you were feeling as tears ran down your cheeks and your hands in fists. "but you know? you know what's so funny? ... that i truly believed you loved me!" with a slam of the door to your home, there stood a boy baffled. because at the very least, he'd thought you would at least let him explain. but no. and now.. all he could do was wait for you to be okay. no matter how long that took.

10 months. 10 months was all it took for you to fall so deeply in love and for your heart to get as easily as broken.

lee hyunjae was a boy you met at the beginning of high school. you were born in south korea but had moved to the states (boston, massachusetts) as soon as you graduated middle school. there, you met hyunjae. he was one of the most sweetest guys you'd ever met with one of the worst reputations. pretty much what one can imagine. the high school's it boy, aka fuck boy. not very convenient when all he did was share class notes and give you winks across the hallways every time you'd walk past by each other. things progressed fast before you noticed yourself falling more in love with the boy. and one day, like a dream come true, he asks you out. you still remember the words.

"so wanna share more physics notes at my house later? and maybe also be my girlfriend?"

cringy, i know.. maybe that should have been the first red flag. but it gets worse. sure, he cared a lot about his reputation and did a good job with upholding that. but with you.. he was a natural, caring guy who seemed more interested in a lot of things than what he leads. falling in love with someone like hyunjae was easy. too easy.

so here you were. running away from your problems and flying to la, california with a scholarship for photography. you were covered for a good two, three years to study what you like to do and to get a fresh start. having yourself embarrassed in front of the school was already too much on your end. and the fact that your life was stolen while hyunjae lived daily life as he did before, definitely did not make any of it feel any better. flirting with girls, playing on the soccer team, and hanging out with the same boys. it was so sickening. not the fact that he was able to go back to his everyday routine so easily. but that he still had you wrapped around his finger. that's what made going to la, a better, and easier, decision than anything. it was like hitting two birds with one stone.

after a while, you got used to everything. you grew numb to feeling love and also expressing love. that may be why photography was your way of finding passion and emotion. you adapted fairly quickly actually. and with the biggest dance performance coming up in france, lots of other competitions were taking place which also meant cha-ching. taking photos of representatives and of the event will be a big assignment for you; not to mention lots of hot professional dancers. you had always admired dancers. the way they gracefully play with their chosen songs while using absolutely every muscle possible to present such a beautiful piece. this was your seventh show you've been to now. two years really did pass by quickly.

but don't forget. you weren't the complete loser you claim yourself as. you've made friends along the way. lee juyeon, who you had met at these said competitions. he had placed first place in many, resulting in multiple individual photoshoots of him. opening up about your life wasn't something you'd like to do. especially with the way your recent high school life back in boston ended. but with many breaks and awkward silences during those shoots, one of you was bound to speak. and you, the photographer, sadly had to be the bigger person. one thing led to another. and you two became close friends. for the first time in forever, you felt at peace and that you belonged somewhere. lee younghoon, you had met in la. he was forced by his dad to come to one of the dance competitions. regardless of his intention to come for fun or not, he had bumped into you and dropped your coffee all over, resulting in his many apologies and a talk in the cafe after. you know how the rest goes. juyeon and younghoon meet and the three of you were now closer than ever.

feeling your phone buzz in your pocket, you reach for it to be faced with the familiar caller id, "bro", quickly putting him on speaker.

"hello?"

"hello? is that all you gotta say to me after days of not talking? i have called you like five times today and you have answered once!" you chuckle at the upset voice across the device. "well then, sunwoo, maybe you should get a life instead of calling me so much." all you hear on the other end was a scoff as you finish packing your bag. sunwoo was your twin brother. well, separated twin brother. after the divorce, you went with your mother to boston while he stayed with your father back in korea. you two still kept in good contact and met up occasionally but it wasn't the usual family situation. "anywayyy! when's your flight?"

you hear a knock at the door and keys jangling before seeing juyeon walk in. "on monday. why?" watching as he took his shoes off and sat down on the couch, you gesture to him that you'll be with him a second. "nothing. it's just our birthday soon! so i'm holding a party for us. so since your flight is gonna be on monday, you'll definitely be able to make it to our party. right? you need to! listen to your big brother! you have to be there, okay?"

"you're literally two minutes older. stop acting as if you're more superior. i'm gonna go," juyeon's chuckle could be heard as he listened to you fight with your twin brother. you quickly end the phone call and walk over to your couch. "sorry about that. sunwoo keeps bothering me about our birthday.."

"speaking of birthday.. am i invited?"

"juyeon. are you kidding me? of course you're invited. i just didn't ask cause i know you're busy with training and i didn't want to be the reason you skip out on practice during such an important time.." he places your keys in your hands and smiles. "your birthday is much more important than anything. i'll go. besides i have something else to say..," as you drop your keys on the table, he clears his throat. "i'm moving back to korea. my training in america is over and i have to practice back home. plus dance performance is in france anyway. so i gotta get back soon."

"you're kidding!"

"nope. just bought my plane ticket. it's the same time and close to your seat too. maybe we can ask to switch seats with the person sitting next to you." with a quick jump, you wrap your arms around him. "ahh! i'm so excited. yes. we'll definitely do that. and since younghoon's back in korea too, i can invite him too."

the flight back was as normal as it can be. you both fell asleep midway but got to enjoy the sunset below. when you landed, it was around 3pm and sunwoo was already there, waiting. "ooh. guess who brought their boyfriend!" he teased, and as much as you didn't want to, your smile disappears. nothing wrong with juyeon. but it's just you haven't heard you and boyfriend in the same phrase for a while and it made you cringe. "yea yea.. anyway let's go." with yours and juyeon's luggage in the trunk, you decided to sit in the back with juyeon up in the passenger seat.

"so.. have you decided where you wanna live?" sunwoo asks as juyeon looks at you through the rear mirror with a smile. "actually.. yea, i have. younghoon's let us use his house. the benefits to having a rich friend." with chuckles, sunwoo thanks juyeon for changing the address on the navi. "you're still paying rent though, right?"

"of course i am. who do you think i am? a freeloader?," the silence was so loud, it hurt. "wow.. thanks guys."

unpacking was harder than packing. at least when you're putting things back in, all you have to worry about things crinkling up or folding in a weird way but once there out, you gotta think about how to place them somewhere. but you did what you could and managed to figure it out. "you finished unpacking?" you hear younghoon's voice outside your room. "yea! i'll be out in just a sec." and once you were downstairs in the living room, you see younghoon and juyeon sitting on the black, leather, very younghoon-like, couch.

"okay. we're gonna need to make some rules," juyeon and you catch each other rolling your eyes at younghoon's words before laughing. "look. i don't care how messy your rooms get. i won't step one foot in them. but! you can't mess my room or the downstairs rooms. especially the kitchen. understand?," after seeing the two of you physically nod, did younghoon let the two of you go. "good. so what do you guys wanna do on your first day back? after a good night's sleep, i'm sure you guys can have some fun.."

"i'm down to go clubbing.." juyeon starts. "just like old times?" you add on, as if you were finishing his sentence. silence meant agreement. so off the three of you ran, up to your rooms to get dressed.

let's just say the day went by quick and the next day was hangover day for the three of you. four days passed and today was the party. sunwoo had basically forced you to come to your own party that you didn't even plan. just added a few people on the guestlist but that's all you got to do. not that you were complaining. you didn't really care much anyway. it just gave you a reason to dress up.

"so.. how's the birthday girl?," you smiled at the voice before turning around to see juyeon, showing off your outfit. "apparently all ready for the party.. happy birthday, y/n." with him opening up his arms, you walk into his embrace. "you know. it feels weird to be back here. i don't know if i should go see my dad.."

"you do what you wanna do. but for now..," you chuckle as he pushes you out the room and guides you downstairs to the car outside. "hop in. i'm driving us to sunwoo's house." you watch as younghoon gets in the back and immediately puts his airpods in. it takes a few minutes to drive over and when you see the neighborhood, it wasn't hard to guess which house the party was being held. the music was loud and the big banner said everything. you just hoped he had warned his neighbors first. but that wasn't your concern.

"hey guys! the birthday girl is here!! late! but here." sunwoo says as he opens the door, loud enough the attention goes to you. and to your embarrassment, juyeon grabs your hand and takes you into the kitchen. "a drink?" taking in the amount of people in here, you were scared people would think you guys were a frat. with a simple nod, juyeon pours in two cups of punch and hands one to you. "thanks.."

"hey sunwoo. where do we put all the gifts?" younghoon speaks up, carrying all the gifts you guys had brought over. yes, it may be your birthday but it was sunwoo's too. you couldn't not buy him something. "oh. just put them all into this room." you help younghoon with the gifts and place them where sunwoo had told you to. after a while, there were almost a hundred people in the house.

"this should be everyone, right?" you ask sunwoo as he was checking the guestlist. "no," your smile drops. what? how could he possibly know this many people that want to come and celebrate his birthday with him? "you know a few of them. eric and them are coming but i told them to bring the cake. i knew something would happen to it if i had prepared it beforehand. so i had them pick it up. they're heading over soon after they pick up their friends too." you down your drink and walk over to the couch where juyeon relaxes. "i swear sunwoo plays around too much or something. i knew this was gonna be a party but with this many people? goddamn." juyeon chuckles at your frustration. "why don't you go grab another drink? get me one too while you're at it." you nod, heading over to the kitchen before someone else enters through the door. you catch a glance at the newcomers and immediately gasp when you see the last person entering. you wanted to hide. you wanted to literally disappear. it's been almost three years? and you thought you had gotten better. but what is this reaction? now you were back to square one. you felt pathetic. and to think, you didn't think it could get worse. until it did. his eyes catch yours and he smiles. smiles! you poured the two drinks and walk your way over. and just when he thinks he has a chance to talk to you, you pass by him and sit down next to juyeon. and as your best friend, it felt only right he ask what was wrong.

"hey.. you good?" your eyes said everything. juyeon sat up straight. "it's him.. hyunjae. why is here? how does he even know sunwoo?" all that anger and humiliation from that night was building back up. and if it wasn't for juyeon holding you back, you would have left this place before the actual party even started. all while you were panicking, hyunjae couldn't take his eyes off you. you were as beautiful as he remembered. maybe even more. "hey guys! you're finally here." you and juyeon watch as kevin and his other friend, you assume, place the very large cake on the kitchen island. "y/n?" your attention shifts over to the voice before seeing chanhee.

"oh my god! eric? it's been so long. what the hell? how are you so tall?" you said, hugging his now tall and lean figure. "well. the last time we saw each other was like five years ago.." you nodded, acknowledging his words but still shocked by his growth. "do i get a hug too?" you see changmin peeking his head through so you immediately open your arms. "of course! you guys are.. men! that's crazy." once sunwoo comes your way, he starts introducing you to his friends.

"so this is my twin sister, y/n. you know changmin, chanhee, eric. this is kevin, jacob, sangyeon, haknyeon. and this is hyunjae. he's also from boston. ha! it'd be funny if you knew each other." sunwoo explains and you couldn't help but let out a little sigh at his name. just like a hero, juyeon's up from the couch and wraps his arm around your shoulder. "nice to meet you guys. i'm juyeon." he says placing out his hand in which sangyeon accepts first. and the rest followed. "wait wait.. i wanna hear you guys talk. say something in english." changmin says, interested. "you guys probably won't even understand anyway." you say as everyone gasps sarcastically. "oh come on, y/n. don't be a party pooper." with sunwoo's words, you roll your eyes and clear your throat.

"how's life been for you?" you started first, deadpan. "it's been good, i guess. what have you been up to?"

"that's none of your business." you hear the others cheering at the accents, having no idea what you two had even said. well, besides younghoon who chuckled and maybe a bit of juyeon. even though he may have a translator, you're sure he caught on to most of it. that was until you realized more people might have caught on your guys’ english conversation.

you know how the rest of the party went. people got way too drunk, passed out, some left, and you're pretty sure you heard a few couples upstairs doing god knows what. and the whole night, all you could do was talk to juyeon as younghoon was getting friendly with changmin and chanhee. and despite all that, you couldn't get drunk. you don't know what kind of mistake you could make with hyunjae and you couldn't risk anything. when there was about half of the people left, you stood up to use the restroom. after drinking almost three bottles of water, you needed to pee. after finishing your business, you wanted to get back to juyeon. but hyunjae had other plans. he grabs your hand and takes you outside without saying anything. when you realize you were already far out as two houses down, you shake your hand off and glare at him. "what? you're mad? when all you've been doing is hanging out with that juyeon dude? what? are you guys dating? is he your boyfriend?"

"what? hyunjae. you're drunk."

"no. i'm perfectly fine." his slurring voice wasn't hard to miss, proving that he indeed was drunk. too drunk, in fact. he grabs both your wrists this time so hard that you winced. "hyunjae."

"hyunjae."

"why is everything so easy for you? i know you don't even like him. i can see it. you don't look at him the way you used to look at me. come on. don't you feel anything for me? even when i do this?" when you feel him stepping closer, you step back. "hyunjae! i'm warning you. let. go," you tried to wriggle out his grasp. you can feel your wrists bruising. "hyunjae.. it hurts. please..." when hyunjae sees your eyes tearing up, he loosens his grip. "i'm sorry. i didn't mean to." you step away, a tear slipping away.

"i hate you." you quickly retrace your steps back into the house and grab your bag, immediately running out. juyeon follows you out with his car keys, unlocking the vehicle. (you drove, no worries. no drinking and driving!)

the next day, your head hurt. but none of it from any alcohol. from the way you kept tossing and turning last night, thinking of hyunjae. out of all the simulations you have made in your mind of what would happen when you by chance, ever bump into him again, that was not it. once you got downstairs, you had noticed porridge on the table with a note on top.

i know you couldn't sleep at night so i made you this. make sure to heat it up before you eat it. - younghoon

younghoon keeps quiet about other people's business but always knew what was going on. he was a nice guy who took advantage of his skill and helps. you wish there were more people like him in the world.

"so.. that was hyunjae, huh?" juyeon's groggy voice is heard. "yea.."

"remind me what happened?," you release a soft sigh as you take out the porridge from the microwave. "just humor me. i want to know how this dude fucked himself up."

"okay.. i guess," you sat down. "yesterday, he dragged me out, absolutely off his limit and starts yelling at me about you. almost like he's... jealous? i didn't understand his words but i know what his intentions were. he's still the same asshole he was years back." juyeon watches your reaction. he's never met hyunjae in his life. all he knows is the hyunjae from your stories. and that was enough to know that he was a dick. but he never noticed that you still have remaining feelings for him, whether you'd admit or not. did he have competition? probably not, after last night. or at least, that's what juyeon was hoping.

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

hyunjae, on the other hand, had woken up around an hour ago, completely regretting everything he said last night. he didn't mean any of it. sure. deep down, he was jealous at the way you laughed at everything juyeon said or the way you leaned into his shoulders like he's the one you love. he hated it. all of it. and when he thinks of that day of your guys' fight, he grimaces. instead of waiting for you to reach out to him like a coward, he wishes he had the courage to just tell you. even if that hadn't changed a thing. at least, he would have been able to confess his true feelings to you.

"dude.. do you and juyeon know each other or something?" eric asks from his bed, watching some anime on the tv screen. "what do you mean?"

"i mean.. i don't know if it was just me but it seemed like he was glaring at you the whole night yesterday. did you flirt with y/n? she seems to have a thing with juyeon." hyunjae's eyebrows twitch at those words but at some point, he had to admit. he was years late. and he didn't have to know the whole story to know that juyeon was probably there for you when he wasn't. "uhh no.. i don't know man," eric shrugs and continues to slurp his ramen noodles. "speaking of.. do you have y/n's number? i wasn't able to get it last night and i saw that you were exchanging numbers." hyunjae casually says, hoping eric doesn't find anything suspicious. "oh yea. i'll send it to you right now. but i'm warning you, dude. i'm pretty sure they're a thing." and when his own phone buzzes, he couldn't help but smile. "okay whatever.. thanks,"

"anyway.. i gotta go. let's finish the series next time." he murmurs before rushing out the door. eric's attention wasn't even anywhere near what he said so he escaped through eric's house and immediately got into his car and dialed the number he had just received.

when he hears the phone call picked up and all you say was a simple "hello?" yet his heart was already fluttering. "hey. it's hyunjae. don't! end the call.. i just.. i know i don't exactly deserve it but i wanted to explain myself. about everything. no matter how late my apology is.. could we meet up somewhere?," the silence scared him. he wouldn't have known if you had the ended the call unless he hadn't checked. "y/n?"

"um. yea.. sure. meet me at the park near sunwoo's house," and with that, you ended the call. "hey guys.. i'm gonna head out. i'll be back in a few." you can see the two boys nod their head but you're sure they're too distracted with their gaming so you slip out the door with your bag and phone in your hand. when you parked your car, you could see a fancy car on the other side of the block. you watch as hyunjae walks out of the said vehicle. while you knew hyunjae had come from a wealthy family, it didn't occur to you that he was this wealthy.

"hey.. thanks for meeting me." hyunjae says, taking in your beauty. you hum a response, waiting for whatever he needed to say and seated yourself next to him on the bench. "so.."

"so. i came to apologize. and to explain. back when the guys had made this bet, it all started off because i thought you were pretty. but you know.. you hated the whole reputation thing we held so i knew i didn't have a chance with you. and when i said that you're totally out of my league, that you would never date me, they told me that they'd pay me if i got you to be my girlfriend. it was only for six months though. but i held out onto it. cause being with you felt so much better than i had first expected," you couldn't help but scoff. “and i know that none of this is an excuse to treat you this way. but i just want you to know that i never wanted you to get hurt. and i was just blinded by the fact that i could get a little bit of money while also getting the girl i liked. i was stupid. i'm sorry."

"how much?"

"huh?"

"how much?"

"$500."

"so playing with my heart was worth $500 for you?"

"i didn't take the money. i didn't take any of it. i told them that this was wrong and that none of it-"

"what do you want me to say? thanks? congrats?," hyunjae felt shivers down his spine when you stand up. he knew that in some sort of way, he had messed up again. "congrats for liking me despite the mere $500 i was worth? and for believing that this shitty apology cuts out for all those nights i cried myself to sleep. i hope you get some of that guilt off your chest because you sure seemed like you needed to get this off your chest. and i'm also sorry if you came today thinking i would accept your apology because i don't. i really wished i could." gathering your things, you make yourself back to your car before hearing, "i still love you!" you freeze in your place. what? when you feel his presence again, you slowly turn around. eyes in contact with one another and your hands stop moving.

"what?"

"y/n.. i never stopped loving you." your tears had started to build up to your eyes in which you failed to hide. with a swift move, you were in hyunjae's arms. this time, you could smell his cologne. his intoxicating cologne. and feel his heartbeat. the warm vibration as he mutters sorry over and over again. and as hard as it was, you place your hand on his chest and slowly push yourself away. "but you know what, hyunjae?," looking into his eyes once more, you smile. "it doesn't matter whether or not you took the money. it's the fact that you took a deal with my heart on the end of it because you were blinded by greed. goodbye."

for the second time, hyunjae watches you walk away. and it hurt the same just as it did the first time. but like the first, he can do nothing but watch.

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

"so why the hell did you not tell me about hyunjae?" it's been almost two weeks since the talk and sunwoo is freaking out over hyunjae. technically, he's not even supposed to know about him but he walked in on juyeon and you talking about what to do with hyunjae. now sunwoo has seated the both of you at your shared dining table and demands to know what happened. all you could do was sigh because you knew his stubbornness wouldn't help.

"him and i dated senior year. we met each other in high school. and just like a wattpad story, he was your regular fuck boy that flirted with every girl he had the chance to. but he was sweet to me. spoke to me about his true interests. if that's even what those were.. anyway. basically i thought that he was able to open himself up to me that he couldn't to others because of his image. we dated 10 months and into the summer, he tells me that he didn't mean it to end this way but that everything just started off as a bet among his friends. we fought back and forth. cause he just kept giving me this bullshit excuse that he meant everything despite the bet. so i ended up yelling at him and left australia," sunwoo's jaw dropping was enough for you to know hyunjae was no longer invited to your birthday parties. "but i know that you guys are good friends. and i'm sure he's changed now. so don't mind me. i just happen to have a history with him."

"okay so wait.. i only care about one thing right now."

"what?" sunwoo clears his throat, staring at juyeon. "do you still like him?" you stare at your hands on your lap, not knowing how to answer. juyeon had seen this coming. matter of fact, he's been hurt by your answer to this question every time. even when you replied yes or the silence. it both meant you still had feelings for hyunjae anyway. but this time. "i don't know." juyeon's eyes shift over to you. he wondered what made you change your answer this time. you honestly didn't know either. "okay then? and i think you're right. hyunjae has changed. so i hope you don't mind that we'll still occasionally hang out." you shook your head, reassuring that you were okay with this.

a month passes since you got back from america and you were settled for good now. taking up little projects and finding customers here and there. your online shop helped a lot in setting up this mini business for you. juyeon and younghoon really helped out in advertising.

just as you push your shopping cart in the supermarket, you find yourself in front of someone. "hyunjae.."

"hey. how's everything going?" you smile at the casual conversation starter. "good.. yea. you?"

"the same old. same old..," as you pull your cart out of the way, hyunjae takes a hold of your hand. "y/n.. can i suggest something?" you stare at him, confused.

"i know this is a stretch. but i'd rather know i took all the chances i had with you before fully letting go. and.. i was wondering if you would go on three dates. just three. no strings attached and nothing serious. i'll treat you to all three. and if you truly feel absolutely nothing, i'll let you go. hmm?"

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

"what did she say? she obviously said no, right?" younghoon watches as juyeon stresses out. you had to go to an appointment and since juyeon wasn't home, you had told younghoon to let juyeon know what's going on. "she said yes."

"what?"

"she wants to give him a chance."

"you're kidding, right-"

"not because she wants this to work. she just wants to feel better. she agrees that this relationship needs a better wrap-up. that's why she agreed," with juyeon's sigh, younghoon chuckles. "don't worry. she doesn't like him." at his words, juyeon lets out an awkward chuckle. "you knew?"

"knew what? that you like y/n? yea dude. it's pretty obvious. i'm sure almost everyone at the birthday party caught on," his panicking breaths was enough for younghoon to pat juyeon's back. "except y/n.. knowing her, she would've probably said something about it by now. so lighten up, dude. and let her end this relationship the way she wants before fully going for it." juyeon nods slowly.

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

the first date took place on september 13. his very own birthday. he ended up holding his party a few days before instead to spend it with you.  hyunjae took you out to an amusement park with little mazes in between. he bought you all your favorite snacks that you were shocked he even remembered. dropping cute comments out of nowhere. "you look so pretty." while playing with his fingers. "let me.." while tying your shoelaces. he didn't try anything too much and kept his distance with you. enough to show respect and you admired him for that. although it wouldn't be the thing that would bring you back to him. because no matter how much he looked out for you, this just wasn't it.

the second date took place on october 31. you remember the first halloween party you went together, his shih tzu welcomed you. maybe that was why but this time, he took you to a dog cafe. you were able to enjoy your favorite coffee while playing with cute samoyeds and poodles. really attentive to you, he made sure you were able to feed the puppies, play with him, and stay after hours too. you were sure that one cost a bit. but you pretended not to know as he tried to hide his payment as much as possible. you hated to admit. but he was a gentleman. well, in a way, you guess he always was. but no matter how much he paid attention to you, this just wasn't it.

the third and final date took place on november 15. he took you to a festival. one that usually sells out fast and only comes twice a year. he made sure to keep refilling tickets to allow you more games, which meant more stuffed animals. when it hit ten o'clock, the fireworks went off. you let him hug you. you understand. fireworks makes one emotional. you slowly wrap your arms around him. "i love you.." you stare at the show in the sky. "mm.. it's so pretty....." hyunjae tried not to notice you didn't say it back. but he wasn't expecting much. because no matter how much he made you feel loved, this just wasn't it.

he knew. he knew all of it. he knew that even if you still liked him.. your heart belonged to another. you just didn't know it.

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

about a few weeks after the final date, hyunjae reaches out to you. saying he wanted to meet up on november 30. you don't know why he had to push it back two weeks to hear your answer. but you knew the feeling. the feeling of wanting to stop time and just love a little longer.

juyeon had barely asked you about any of the dates with you and hyunjae. and to say you were worried was an understatement. whether you noticed or not, juyeon's opinion mattered a lot to you. you thought about it. why your heart ached when he wasn't home much anymore to ask you things and why it bothered you so much to not see him in his room before going to sleep. he'd been the guy you go to. the therapist that helps you solve any situation. the dancer who helped you open up when you doubted your skill in photography. the guy that reminded you your self worth and brought you back to this world. the best friend you fell in love with.

you blinked at your realization. all this time you had thought falling in love with hyunjae was easy. maybe love wasn't supposed to be easy. maybe it was supposed to be a roller coaster. driving over to hyunjae's was now a lighter feeling than how the day started off. when hyunjae saw you parking in the driveway, he prepared himself. he took in a breath and opened the door.

"want some tea?" hyunjae offers, knowing you're not here to stay long anyway. but it was still worth a try. he told himself that he'd give it his all and he was trying. even if he knew, nothing would ever work. you shake your head and sit down on one of the chairs by his kitchen counter. "hyunjae.. i came here to say that-"

"wait," he stops you, scared. "lemme go first," when he sees you nod softly, he gulps. "look. the past three dates has been everything to me. i don't regret any of it. i'm so happy i saw you smile. i'm so happy i got to hug you. and i'm so happy i got to tell you that i love you. one last time..," he bites his quivering lip as tears rise up in his eyes. "i know what you're here to say. so i just wanted to say thank you. thanks for giving me a chance to love you again. thanks for giving me a chance to treat you the way i couldn't back then." hearing his voice crack made your heart break. you wanted to wipe his tears away but you know you shouldn't. you don't get to since you're the cause of those tears anyway.

"hyunjae..," you watch his hands shaking in his lap, slowly placing your hand in his. you feel his tears falling on your fingers, tears threatening to fall yourself. "i'm sorry i can't tell you what you want me to say. thank you for showing me the person you have become and that you will find someone better. i know that's such a bitchy thing to say. but i mean it. hyunjae.. you've grown. and i really would've liked it if this would've worked. but i'm.. i just-"

"you love juyeon," as you look up, a tear falls down your right cheek. he slowly stands up, sniffling through his tears. "you should go to him. i know he's probably wrecking his brain right now, waiting."

you let out a chuckle before wiping your own tears. "can i hug you?" you nod as you allow yourself to be engulfed in his warm embrace. hyunjae's uneven breathing didn't make any of this easier. after about a minute, you slowly pull away. "thanks hyunjae.. for everything." with a nod of agreement, you both let go and he walks you out.

"y/n...," you turn around. "at least tell me one thing.. will he treat you better?"

"mhmm.. he's the best."

"then.. that's all that matters."

as soon as you get in your car and you're on the road, your phone starts dialing. and to no surprise, you're hit with voicemail. "juyeon? i have something to say to you. i'm on my way home. please.. please be there.." you knew juyeon felt something for you. it'd be crazy if he hadn't. almost every friend of yours has asked you if you were dating him. just by the way he looks at you, treats you, and finds some way to stop you from going on blind dates; that your friends set up. you just didn't say anything because it wasn't like you could reject him and risk loosing him forever or accept him while you were still in love with another. your parked car in the driveway was nothing near straight but you honestly just wanted to get back into the house. running to the door, frustrated that you couldn't find your house keys. but when the door unlocks and you're met with just the man you wanted to see, your body just wants one thing. you immediately hug him. "i'm so sorry.. i'm so sorry for not doing something before."

"you idiot. i've been waiting for like three months. if the past two years doesn't count." you were so relieved from his words that your heart skipped two beats.

"look ju.. i don't know what to say."

"then don't say anything.. just kiss me." not even a second passes before your lips are on his. despite the ticklish feeling of his eyelashes batting against your cheek and the fact you two were still at the door, this couldn't have felt more right. you and juyeon. you should've noticed sooner. but for now, him having his hand on your back and the other on your neck was just perfect. it felt like nothing in the world could go wrong. after a while, you slowly let go. only because you were running out of breath.

"so. do i get to meet your parents now?" you chuckle at the way his mind works. "yes.. i'll arrange something," you slowly watch him close the door and walk you to the sofa. the two of you lay together, your head on his chest as he softly combs through your hair. you hum at the feeling. "at least i won't have to see my dad alone.."

"what happened? with your parents, i mean. you never told me why you're so scared to see your dad." with a sigh, you stare at your hands intertwined with his. "well.. the thing with my dad is that.. i've watched my dad fight with my mom one too many times and after moving with my mom in the divorce, i'm scared that he hates me. he's not abusive or mean or anything, actually. in fact, i love my dad. but i'm so scared that he doesn't want to see me anymore. especially after i ran when he saw me at the grocery store five years ago. i literally ran away. he hates me. i just know it.."

you watch as juyeon gives you a very judging look. "really?"

"what?"

"y/n.. what's not to like about you being his daughter? i'm sure this is all just a misunderstanding. you know what? you're gonna go see him. now." juyeon instantly starts packing some stuff in a bag and running to get the car keys that you had just threw on the ground a while ago. "wait! wait.. can you come with me then?" juyeon's grin slowly changes into a terrified facial expression.

"me? meet your father?" a few seconds later, and younghoon comes walking down the stairs. "so yall done now?" the blushing looks of both your faces was enough to make him chuckle.

"how long were you there?"

"long enough to say finally. come on. pack up. i'll drive us over to your dad's house. in fact, sunwoo texted me that he has a cold but sunwoo has to stay at work. so we're gonna go there and take care of him."

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

the loud sound of your heartbeat echoed in your chest, all the way up to your ears that you could barely hear anything around you. as you waited at the doorstep of what you've been told was where your dad lived, juyeon holds your hand tightly. younghoon chuckles behind the two of you when he sees the two of your shoulders tighten at the sound of footsteps getting closer.

"who is it?," as the door opens, your eyes widen. you curse at yourself just imagining how stupid you must look. "y/n."

"dad?"

"uhh... come on in." your dad clears his throat and moves out the way. hesitant, but you enter, taking in the view of the house. when you're suddenly pulled back into a hug, who you assume was juyeon, or younghoon, was the very father you believe hated you. "dad.."

"y/n. i am so happy to see you here. i really am."

tears rose up as you wrapped your arms around him.

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

10 months later and today was the day of the france dance event. you're in the crowd, cheering for lee juyeon, your boyfriend, right next to all the boys and your father sitting next to you. hearing the crowd chanting your boyfriend's name made you feel proud. you glance over at hyunjae who was obviously staring. and for once, you had the power to stop looking. not like all those years. and for once, you're looking at someone who loves you as much as you love them. you join in with your fans.

"lee juyeon! lee juyeon! lee juyeon!"

you watched as the scores to his short and free add up. his ranking going from 4th to 2nd and a point away from 1st to "lee juyeon! winner of this year’s best dance performance! congratulations!!" the last thing you remember is screaming and the place going wild.

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

the after party was as good as it gets. a little bit fancier than what you and your boys are used to. but they offered chocolate ice cream, juyeon's favorite. but now that you were back home, you were able to grill steak outside and hold a little after party amongst yourselves.

once everybody left, you and juyeon find your way outside again with a bottle of wine and glasses. "juyeon.. congratulations."

"i won it for you."

"what do you mean?"

"do you remember when we first met? and you told how amazing it'd be if i won the comp event.. that you'd grant me a wish," you blink, reminiscing the moment, slowly nodding. "well, i was going to wish for you to give me a chance. but since that's already happened.." you watched as he cleared his throat and started to bend down on one knee. you gasped, seeing the box in his hands.

"oh my god. juyeon." your hands covering your mouth in shock. "y/n.. for as long as i've known you, i have spent every second liking you and loving you. i overthought every single detail. but now that it comes to this, i thought as long as i'm the one down on one knee and you're the one in front of me, where i do it, how i do it, when i do it.. it shouldn't matter. i love you, y/n. will you be the one watching me from the stands at competitions as long as i shall dance? and will you let me be the one to love you from now and forever? marry me?"

"yes.. yes! oh my.. ju yes!" the next thing you know, people surrounding you in hollers. "you guys didn't go home yet?" juyeon's confused look makes everyone laugh. "after making it that obvious you were proposing? hell no." sunwoo says.

"well.. can we have our moment before you ruin it even more?" you say as the boys crowd your romantic moment. they all start mumbling apologies, giving you two space. "anyway... where were we?" you smile as he wraps his arms around your waist.

"i believe we were about to kiss."

"i believe you said yes..”

"i sure did.. i love you."

"and i love you, my love.."

[eclaire-went-bam]

can we talk more about how npd can really crush your interests

like how is it, whenever i find someone else who likes what i like, i automatically feel attacked or defensive until i can wager in some way i'm more familiar with the subject than them?

unless i myself have instilled that interest in someone, but even then, if they end up liking it more than me, i feel equally defensive.

if someone says i like something bcs of them, i still get defensive.

if i have a talent due to something i have passion in, it is imperative to be better at it than everyone i know, to find the flaws in other people's skills (which can be useful to teach yourself but not so much when you're finding ways to believe you're better). to never spend time leisurely enjoying my talent, but to need to CONSTANTLY top my last record. nothing less is unacceptable. if someone's better than me, then Clearly i must quit growing this talent

if i have a hobby that people look up to me for, i easily turn something i once enjoyed into a steadily raising standard and if i can't constantly be better, i may as well give up before i lose ly dignity

i can hardly pick up new hobbies, because if i'm not good at something immediately, i risk humiliation. i can't be new at anything, because if i'm not perfect immediately, i feel like i'd rather die

if i enjoy or am good at something and nobody's recognising it, then what's the point?

it makes me feel like such a child.

i used to really like reading and writing. i was hyperlexic. early in elementary school, i got into the highest lexile bracket & read everything in the library. i was constantly reading things at home. between the ages of 11 & 12, my state reading scores surpassed about 98% of students my age, i had the reading score of someone in college. i was told i was my english teachers best writer & critical thinker (& i would get upset if i was one lf the best, not the best. there's no point in settling for next best). my creative writing teacher had told the principal about my writing. meanwhile i also liked maths, i easily finished all my work before everyone else without the use of a calculator, but nobody recognised me for it. i got in trouble for getting 0 points on homework i did, but forgot to have a parent sign. i didn't get any recognition for speedy work in comparison to my amab peers. because of that, i decided to not even try. i would much rather fail my classes than be seen as average or not quite good enough. this same attitude persisted throughout highschool. although i was praised for being one of the best writers, i got so tired. i stopped reading, i stopped writing. because somebody might be better than i am. my little sister was good at reading through elementary and middle. she wasn't as good as i was, but she grew up with a much healthier family than i had & she got regularly praised for this when i only had been by my school. i didn't ever try to exert how good i was at english i was too over herw i supported her, but it also made me feel resentful & i just stopped trying to enjoy reading & writing because what was the point anymore? i stopped being known as the person who always asked questions, because i'd met other people that were like that too. i've nearly quit art so lany times. i can't even play a noncompetitive game without competition, because if i'm not constantly getting better at something, if i falter once, it could be grounds for a crash. if i get anything below a 95%, if someone recieves a score higher than me on something i genuinely tried on?

it's much safer to not try & pretend you don't actually care about it, because at least then it's an issue of effort, not what i am and am not capable of doing

yadda yadda yadda having npd fucking SUCKS sometimes but also i'm not gonna pretend my home life & school didn't enable this

[josiebelladonna]

okay, i officially hate art contests.

you know how yesterday i was saying that ai has cheapened art on pretty much every level possible? well, art contests play a role in that, too. probably a bigger role, tbh, and ai is merely writing its obituary.

i just think of all the contests i’ve ever entered, starting with the science fair in elementary school where my dad and i built a trebuchet together and we all thought that was going to be a slam dunk. our catapult lost out to your stereotypical volcano eruption of cola and mentos. A CATAPULT!

then there was an art contest in middle school, when i entered a cartoon in—i don’t remember what it was exactly but i had drawn a picture full of people in my cartoon style, fresh off the press from the winter before. i lost to the crappiest drawing you’ve ever seen, and i knew there was some favoritism going on there.

then there was soundgarden’s fan art contest in 2016. i entered a drawing of soundgarden themselves into it and i had absolutely no hope for it just from my past experiences. get this: it actually won… but no one on my facebook cared. i think one person liked it, but that was it (this was 2016, too, way before ai came about and ruined everything). the other girl who won got support out the nose. i also hated the prize, too, so figure i distanced myself from the whole thing. what, we put our hard work into this shit and you can’t even be bothered to do better than vinyl records?

then there was chalk on the walk the year before and in 2018. i drew a koi pond in 2015. got bupkis, not even a “thank you”. i drew chris with my heavy metal flowers in 2018. got a bunch of people stopping and taking pictures and asking me questions, but i didn’t even get an honorable mention. i don’t even know who won either year, i don’t even remember them.

i entered my beatles drawings into the state fair in 2018, all four of which i spent hours on. got nothing: i lost to the shittiest drawing of edgar allen poe i had ever seen in my entire life, and i wish i took a picture to show you guys because it really was that godawful.

now here we are with mermay. did all my stuff this year by hand and i’m starting to wonder what the hell is even the point now when it’s obvious they like the clean, digital, disney-ish stuff better. the month isn’t even done yet and i’m starting to feel like a complete idiot for even bothering with it. really, i feel genuinely embarrassed for even attempting it in the first place. i’m just gonna post the remaining ones and then just be done with it, i’m not gonna give a shit about the winners (plus, i’ve been on ig four years now and you’d think, logically, my account has grown by now. fuck me, right?)

i’m thinking of participating in a fashion one for edward gorey’s foundation later this year just to try something different but… now that i write this out, i really, really don’t know and i’m starting to regret even considering it. i have the worst track record with these things and my so-called family and so-called friends wouldn’t give a shit if my life depended on it. i can just see their reactions towards it, too, like “oh, great, here we go again… another contest, another forgone conclusion… get a real job, sweetie”. the people who claim to care about me don’t care at this point. they didn’t care in 2016, and they really don’t care now.

I don’t win contests. i never can, either, simply because of the whole unspoken act of favoritism. you put your heart and soul into a portrait of your dead friend or into four of the four lads from liverpool and you fucking lose to cheapness and amateurness in the worst way possible taken to its dumbest conclusion. they also shortchange artists, too, like the prizes for the chalk on the walk competitions were like gift cards. the soundgarden one had fucking vinyl, not meeting the guys or having a say in the art for the next album or anything awesome like that. just: “here. vinyl”. (worse, they didn’t even tell us what it was until after the fact, so yeah, figure i totally felt used and it left a bad taste in my mouth). because of this, they are very limiting. you can only get away with so much for the sake of the dumbest conclusion you can possibly think of.

art contests are complete bullshit. don’t bother with them if you respect yourself.

[blurrycow]

hmm. some vents below

When I was younger, I always picked the songs that made me feel the most free. Everything from then feels like a freakin’ fever dream, and I miss you both by my side. 

We are the kids that you never loved, New Politics sings in my ear. 

It wasn’t even that long ago, but I feel so desperate for that time, that time where I was so young and in love with the world, and I had my two best friends by my side. 

I close my eyes and I can see the beams of sunlight shining through the window, flickering as the car speeds past trees and snow-coated hilltops. 

I will never get that back again, and I know this, so I plug my ears with plastic and trickle soundwaves through my skull, sounds that make me feel like I’m back, happy and young and triumphant. 

We are the ones that will never grow up. 

That February, we hated the music at the dance, I remember. So we went into the bathroom and I put on my songs, and we danced in there until the teachers kicked us out. We sang through the entirety of Bohemian Rhapsody when we got back in, and I’d never felt so alive. 

It feels kinda weird that I would ever be nostalgic for middle school again. But I am. For the times before she changed everything, the times when it was just our little trio against the world. 

Just two? We made a line. But with three we were beautiful, and nothing could stop us.

There was that one time that we got to States in that science competition. Do you remember that? I remember clear as day. The fabric on my shirt was rough and the tag itched my neck. That might have been one of the worst days of my life, I think. The whole time, I floated, feeling disconnected, dead inside. 

I sat in silence as you murmured to each other across from me at the table, sitting shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. I whispered to myself, I want to die. You didn’t hear me.

You didn’t fucking hear me.

We are the kids from the west end. 

I knew I didn’t belong. I never did.

You were my safe place. You were my home.

My home is cracked, frayed, jagged along the edges. It’s turned sickly sweet and sour, and I will never get it back because you two are ruined and it is gone. 

I hope you never see this. I hope you never go through my tumblr feed and find this, because I never want you to see this, ever, not how much it hurt, not how much it still stings me now. My past affects my every move. Every moment in the darkness is a moment I remember. The future is grey, and it is bleak, and my past is so golden. 

But gold burns. 

[innuendostudios]

I was invited to give a talk on GamerGate over Zoom in early 2021. I've long been frustrated that there isn't a good timeline of GG and its origins on YouTube. When people ask "what the hell was GG anyway?" they often get referred to my or Dan Olson's videos on the subject, but both of them were made while GG was ongoing, and presumed a degree of familiarity on the part of the audience. There was just too much to say about what was already happening to spend time getting the audience up to speed, and it was safe to assume our audiences had enough context to follow along. But time moves fast on the internet, and many people who now care about such things weren't there while it was happening, and are lacking the necessary context to follow the better videos. For a long time, I've only been able to direct them to RationalWiki's timeline, which is excellent but so exhaustively comprehensive that it's likely to scare off first-timers.

I realize an hourlong lecture isn't necessarily helping matters, but the first 20-or-so minutes of this video are my attempt at streamlining the timeline such that people can be up to speed on the most important stuff fairly quickly. The rest is talking about what it all meant, how it prefigured the Alt-Right, and using it to better understand digital radicalization.

This video was made with the help of Magdalen Rose, who edited the slides to the audio while I was laid up with a back injury. Go sub to her channel! And please back me on Patreon.

Transcript below the cut.

FUCKING VIDEO GAMES? FUCKING VIDEO GAMES. THEY MADE DOZENS OF PEOPLE MISERABLE FOR YEARS OVER VIDEO GAMES! NOT EVEN FUCKING VIDEO GAMES, FUCKING ARTICLES ABOUT FUCKING VIDEO GAMES. THIS IS WHAT PASSES FOR LEGITIMATE GRIEVANCE. ARE YOU KIDDING ME WITH THIS SHIT??

Hi! My name is Ian Danskin. I’m a video essayist and media artist. I run the YouTube channel Innuendo Studios, please like share and subscribe.

I’m here to talk to you about GamerGate, and I needed to get all that out of the way. I’m going to talk about what GamerGate was and how it prefigured The Alt-Right, and there are gonna be moments where you’re nodding along with me, going, “yeah, yeah I get it,” and then the sun’s gonna break through a crack in the wall and you’ll suddenly remember that all this is happening because some folks - mostly ladies - said some stuff - provably true stuff, I might add - about video games and a bunch of guys didn’t like it, and you’re gonna want to rip your hair out. By the end of this, you will have a better understanding of what happened, but it will never not be bullshit.

Also, oh my god, content warning. Racism, sexism, antisemitism, homophobia, transphobia, rape threats, threats of violence, domestic abuse - I’m not going to depict or describe at length any of the worst stuff, but it’s all in the mix. So if at any point you need to switch me off or mute me, you have my blessing.

Brace yourselves.

Some quick prehistory:

In 2012, feminist media critic Anita Sarkeesian ran a Kickstarter campaign for a YouTube series on sexist tropes in video games. And, partway through the campaign, 4chan found it and said “let’s ruin her life.” And a lot of the male general gaming public joined in. And by “ruin her life” I’m not talking 150 angry tweets including dozens of rape and death threats per week, though that was a thing. I’m talking bomb threats. I’m talking canceled speaking engagements because someone threatened to shoot up a school. I’m talking FBI investigation. The harassers faced no meaningful repercussions.

And in 2013, Zoe Quinn released Depression Quest, a free text game about living with depression. They received harassment off and on for the next year, most pointedly from an incel forum called Wizardchan that doxxed their phone number and made harassing phone calls telling them to kill themself. The harassers faced no meaningful repercussions.

(Also, quick note: Zoe Quinn is nonbinary and has come out since the events in question. When I call Zoe’s harassment misogynist, understand I am not calling Zoe a woman, but they were attacked by people who hate women because that’s how they were perceived. Had they been out at the time things probably would’ve gone down similarly, but on top of misogyny I’d be talking about nonbinary erasure and transphobia.)

Okay. Our story begins in August 2014. The August that never ended.

Depression Quest, after a prolonged period on Greenlight, finally releases on Steam as a free download with the option to pay what you want. In the days that follow, Zoe’s ex-boyfriend, Eron Gjoni, writes a nearly 10,000-word blog called The Zoe Post, in which he claims Quinn had been a shitty and unfaithful partner. (For reference, 10,000 words is long enough that the Hugos would consider it a novelette.) This is posted to forums on Penny Arcade and Something Awful, both of which immediately take it down, finding it, at best, a lot of toxic hearsay and, at worse, an invitation to harassment. So Gjoni workshops the post, adds a bunch of edgelord humor (and I am using the word “humor” very generously), and reposts it to three different subforums on 4chan.

We’re not going to litigate whether Zoe Quinn was a good partner. I don’t know or care. I don’t think anyone on this call is trying to date them so I’m not sure that’s our business. What is known is that the relationship lasted five months, and, after it ended, Gjoni began stalking Quinn. Gjoni has, in fact, laid out how he stalked Quinn in meticulous detail to interviewers and why he feels it was justified. It’s also been corroborated by a friend that Quinn briefly considered taking him back at a games conference in San Francisco, but he became violent during sex and Quinn left the apartment in the middle of the night with visible bruises.

Off of the abusive ex-boyfriend’s post, 4chan decides it’s going to make Zoe Quinn one of their next targets, and starts a private IRC channel to plan the campaign. The channel is called #BurgersAndFries, a reference to Gjoni claiming Quinn had cheated on him with five guys. A couple sentences in The Zoe Post - which Gjoni would later claim were a typo - imply that one of the five guys was games journalist Nathan Grayson and that Quinn had slept with him in exchange for a good review of Depression Quest. Given the anger that they’d seen drummed up against women in games with the previous Anita Sarkeesian hate mob, #BurgersAndFries decides to focus on this breach of “ethics in games journalism” as a cover story, many of them howling with laughter at the thought that male gamers would probably buy it. This way, destroying Quinn’s life and career and turning their community against them would appear an unfortunate byproduct of a legitimate consumer revolt; criticism of the harassment could even be framed as a distraction from the bigger issue. Gjoni himself is in the IRC channel telling them that this was the best hand to play.

The stated aim of many on #BurgersAndFries was to convince Quinn to commit suicide.

Two regulars in the IRC, YouTubers MundaneMatt and Internet Aristocrat, make videos about The Zoe Post. Incidentally, both these men had already made a lot of money off videos about Anita Sarkeesian. Matt’s is swiftly taken down with a DMCA claim, and he says that Quinn filed the claim themself. (For the record, in those days, YouTube didn’t tell you who filed DMCA claims against you.) Members of the IRC also reach out to YouTuber TotalBiscuit, who had been critical of Sarkeesian and dismissive of her harassment, and he tweets the story to his 350,000 followers, saying a game developer trading sex for a good review might not prove true, but was certainly plausible.

This is where GamerGate begins to get public traction.

Zoe Quinn is very swiftly doxxed, with their phone number, home address, nudes, and names and numbers of their family collected. Gjoni himself leaks their birth name. The Zoe Post, and the movement against Quinn - now dubbed “The Quinnspiracy” - make it to The Escapist and Reddit, which mods will have little luck removing. The Quinnspiracy declares war on any site that does take their threads down, most vehemently NeoGAF. People who defend Zoe against the harassment start getting doxxed themselves - Fez developer Phil Fish is doxxed so thoroughly, hackers get access to the root folder of his website.

In what I’m going to call This Should Have Been The End, Part 1, Stephen Totilo, Editor-in-Chief at Kotaku where Nathan Grayson worked, in response to pressure not just from The Quinnspiracy but an increasing number of angry gamers buying The Quinnspiracy’s narrative, publishes a story. In it he verifies that Quinn and Grayson did date for several months, and that not only is there no review of Depression Quest anywhere on Kotaku, not by Grayson nor anyone else, but that Grayson did not write a single word about Quinn the entire time they were dating.

In response, The Quinnspiracy declares war on Kotaku. r/KotakuinAction is formed, which will become the primary site of organization outside of chanboards. The fact that their entire “movement” is based on a review that does not exist changes next to nothing.

Some people start to see The Quinnspiracy as potentially profitable. The Fine Young Capitalists get involved, a group ostensibly working to get women into video games but who have a Byzantine plan to do so wherein they crowdfund the budget and the woman who wins a competition gets to storyboard a game, but another company will make and she will get 8% of the profits, the rest going to a charity chosen by the top donor. 4chan becomes the top donor. They like TFYC because the head of the company has a vendetta against Zoe Quinn, who had previously called them out for their transphobic submission policy, and he falsely accused Quinn of having once doxxed him. 4chan feels backing an ostensibly feminist effort will be good PR, but can’t resist selecting a colon cancer charity because, they say, feminism is cancer and they want to be the cure to butthurt. They also get to design a character for the game, and so they create Vivian James, who will become the GamerGate mascot.

Manosphere YouTubers Jordan Owen and Davis Aurini launch a Patreon campaign for their antifeminist documentary The Sarkeesian Effect and come to The Quinnspiracy looking for $15,000 a month for an indefinite period to make it, which they get.

In what will prove genuinely awful timing, Anita Sarkeesian releases the second episode of Tropes vs. Women in Video Games, and, despite not being a games journalist and having nothing to do with Quinn or Grayson, she is immediately roped into the narrative about how feminists are ruining games culture and becomes the second major target of harassment. Both she and Quinn soon have to leave their houses after having receiving dozens and dozens of death threats that include their home addresses.

After being courted by members of the IRC channel, Firefly star Adam Baldwin tweets a link to one of the Quinnspiracy videos and coins the hashtag #GamerGate. This is swiftly adopted by all involved.

In response to all this, Leigh Alexander writes a piece for Gamasutra arguing that the identity that these men are flocking to the “ethics in games journalism” narrative to defend no longer matters as a marketing demographic. Gaming and games culture is so large and so varied, and the “core gamer” audience of 18-34 white bros growing smaller and septic, that there was no reason, neither morally nor financially, to treat them as the primary audience anymore. Love of gaming is eternal, but, she declared, “gamers,” as an identity, “are over.” Eight more articles contextualizing GamerGate alongside misogyny and the gatekeeping of games culture come out across several websites in the following days. GamerGate frames these as a clear sign of [deep sigh] collusion to oppress gamers, proving that ethics in games journalism is, indeed, broken, and Leigh Alexander becomes the third major target of harassment. These become known as the “gamers are dead” articles - a phrase not one of them uses - and they make “get Leigh Alexander fired from Gamasutra” one of their primary goals.

Something I need you to understand is that it has, at this point, been two weeks.

Highlights from the next little bit: Alex Macris, a higher up at The Escapist’s parent company, expresses support for GamerGate; he will go on to write the first positive coverage at a major publication and cement The Escapist as GamerGate-friendly. Mike Cernovich, aka “Based Lawyer,” gets GamerGate’s attention by mocking Anita Sarkeesian; he will go on to hire a private investigator to stalk Zoe Quinn. GamerGate launches Operation Disrespectful Nod, an email campaign pressuring companies to pull advertising from websites that have criticized them. They leverage their POC members, getting them, any time someone points out the rampant racism and antisemitism among GamerGaters, to say “I am a person of color and I am #NotYourShield”; most of these “POC members” are fake accounts left over from a previous, racist disinformation campaign. Milo Yiannapoulos gets involved, writing positive coverage of GG despite having mocked gamers for precisely this behavior in the past, and gets so much traffic it pulls Breitbart News out of obscurity and makes it a significant player in modern conservative news media.

[Hey! Ian from the future here. This talk mostly addresses how GamerGate prefigured the Alt-Right strategically and philosophically, but if you want a more explicit, material connection: Breitbart News took its newfound notoriety to become, as its Executive Chair phrased it in 2016, "a platform for the Alt-Right." That Executive Chair was Steve Bannon, who threw the website's weight behind The Future President Who Shall Not Be Named, and, upon getting his attention, would then go on to become his campaign strategist and work in his Administration. So, if you're wondering how one of the central figures of the Alt-Right ended up in the White House, the answer is literally "GamerGate." Back to you, Ian from the past!]

In what I’m calling This Should Have Been The End, Part 2, Zoe Quinn announces that they have been lurking the #BurgersAndFries IRC channel since the beginning and releases dozens of screenshots showing harassment being planned and the selection of “ethics in games journalism” as a cover. #BurgersAndFries has a meltdown, everyone turns on each other, and the channel is abandoned. And they then start another IRC and things proceed.

It goes on like this. I’m not gonna cover everything. This is just the first month. It should be clear by now that this thing is kind of unkillable. And I worry I haven’t made it obvious that this is not just a chanboard and an IRC. Thousands of regular, every day gamers were buying the story and joining in. They were angry, and no amount of evidence that their anger was unfounded was going to change that. You could not mention or even allude to GamerGate and not get flooded with dozens, even hundreds of furious replies. These replies always included the hashtag so everyone monitoring it could join in, so all attempts at real conversation devolved into a hundred forking threads where some people expected you to talk to them while others hurled insults and slurs. And always the possibility that, if any one of them didn’t like what you said, you’d be the next target.

To combat this, some progressives offered up the hashtag #GameEthics to the people getting swept up in GamerGate, saying, “look, we get that you’re angry, and if you want to talk about ethics in games journalism, we can totally do that, but using your hashtag is literally putting us in danger; they calling the police on people saying there’s a hostage situation at their home addresses so they get sent armed SWAT teams, and if you’ll just use this other hashtag we can have the conversation you say you want to have in safety.” And I will ever stop being salty about what happened.

They refused. They wouldn’t cede any ground to what they saw as their opposition. It was so important to have the conversation on their terms that not only did they refuse to use #GameEthics, they spammed it with furry porn so no one could use it.

A few major events on the timeline before we move on: Christina Hoff Sommers, the Republican Party’s resident “feminist,” comes out criticizing Anita Sarkeesian and becomes a major GG figurehead, earning the title Based Mom. Zoe Quinn gets a restraining order against Eron Gjoni, which he repeatedly violates, to no consequence; GG will later crowdfund his legal fees. There’s this listserv called GameJournoPros where game journalists would talk about their jobs, and many are discussing their concerns over GamerGate, so Milo Yiannopoulos leaks it and this is framed as further “proof of collusion.” 4chan finally starts enforcing its “no dox” rules and shuts GamerGate threads down, so they migrate to 8chan, a site famous for hosting like a lot of child porn. Indie game developer Brianna Wu makes a passing joke about GamerGate on Twitter and they decide, seemingly on a whim, to make her one of the biggest targets in the entire movement; she soon has to leave her home as well. GamerGate gets endorsements from WikiLeaks, Infowars, white nationalist sites Stormfront and The Daily Stormer, and professional rapist RooshV. And hundreds of people get doxxed; an 8chan subforum called Baphomet is created primarily to host dox of GamerGate’s critics.

But by November, GamerGate popularity was cresting, as more and more mainstream media covered it negatively. Their last, big spike in popularity came when Anita Sarkeesian went on The Colbert Report and Stephen made fun of the movement. Their numbers never recovered after that.

Which is not to say GamerGate ended. It slowed down. The period of confusion where the mainstream world couldn’t tell whether it was a legitimate movement or not passed. But, again, most harassers faced no meaningful repercussions. Gamers who bought the lie about “ethics in games journalism” stayed mad that no one had ever taken them seriously, and harassers continued to grief their targets for years. The full timeline of GamerGate is an constant cycle of lies, harassment, operations, grift, and doxxing. Dead-enders are to this day still using the hashtag. And remember how Anita had nothing to do with ethics in games journalism or Zoe Quinn, and they just roped her in because they’d enjoyed harassing her before so why not? Every one of GamerGate’s targets knows that they may get dragged into some future harassment campaign just because. It’s already happened to several of them. They’re marked.

(sigh) Let’s take a breath.

Now that we know what GamerGate was, let’s talk about why it worked.

In the thick of GamerGate, I started compiling a list of tactics I saw them using. I wanted to make a video essay that was one part discussion of antifeminist backlash, and one part list of techniques these people use so we can better recognize and anticipate their behavior. That first part became six parts and the second part went on a back burner. It would eventually become my series, The Alt-Right Playbook. GamerGate is illustrative because most of what would become The Alt-Right Playbook was in use.

Two foundational principles of The Alt-Right Playbook are Control the Conversation and Never Play Defense. Make sure people are talking about what you want them to talk about, and take an aggressive posture so you look dominant even when you’re not making sense. For instance: once Zoe leaked the IRC chatlogs, a reasonable person could tell the average gater, “the originators of GamerGate were planning harassment from the very beginning.” But the gater would say, “you’re cherry-picking; not everyone was a harasser.”

Now, this is a bad argument - that’s not how you use “cherry-picking” - and it’s being framed as an accusation - you’re not just wrong, you’re dishonest - which makes you wanna defend yourself. But, if you do - if you tell them why that argument is crap - you’ve let the conversation move from “did the IRC plan harassment?” - a question of fact - to “are the harassers representative of the movement?” - a question of ethics. Like, yes, they are, but only within a certain moral framework. An ethics question has no provable answer, especially if people are willing to make a lot of terrible arguments. It is their goal to move any question with a definitive answer to a question of philosophy, to turn an argument they can’t win into an argument nobody can win.

The trick is to treat the question you asked like it’s already been answered and bait you into addressing the next question. By arguing about whether you’re cherry-picking, you’re accepting the premise that whether you’re cherry-picking is even relevant. Any time this happens, it’s good to pause and ask, “what did we just skip over?” Because that will tell you a lot.

What you skipped over is their admission that, yes, the IRC did plan harassment, but that’s only on them if most of the movement was in on it. Which is a load of crap - the rest of the IRC saw it happening, let it happen, it’s not like anybody warned Zoe, and shit, I’m having the cherry-picking argument! They got me! You see how tempting it is? But presumably the reason you brought the harassment up is because you want them to do something about it. At the very least, leave the movement, but ideally try and stop it. They don’t, strictly speaking, need to feel personally responsible to do that. And you might be thinking, well, maybe if I can get them take responsibility then they’ll do something, but you’d be falling for a different technique I call I Hate Mondays.

This is where people will acknowledge a terrible thing is happening, maybe even agree it’s bad, but they don’t believe anything can be done about it. They also don’t believe you believe anything can be done about it. Mondays suck, but they come around every week. This is never stated outright, but it’s why you’re arguing past each other. To them, the only reason to talk about the bad thing is to assign blame. Whose turn is it to get shit on for the unsolvable problem? Their argument about cherry-picking amounts to “1-2-3 not it.” And they are furious with you for trying to make them responsible for harassment they didn’t participate in.

The unspoken argument is that harassment is part of being on the internet. Every public figure deals with it. This ignores any concept of scale - why does one person get harassed more than another? - but you can’t argue with someone who views it as a binary: harassment either happens or it doesn’t, and, if it does, it’s a fact of life, and, if it happens to everyone, it’s not gendered. And this is not a strongly-held belief they’ve come to after years of soul-searching - this is what they’ve just decided they believe. They want to participate in GamerGate despite knowing its purpose, and this is what would need to be true for that to be ok.

Or maybe they’re just fucking with you! Maybe you can’t tell. Maybe they can’t tell, either. I call this one The Card Says Moops, where people say whatever they feel will score points in an argument and are so irony-poisoned they have no idea whether they actually believe it. A very useful trick if the thing you appear to believe is unconscionable. You can’t take what people like that say at face value; you can only intuit their beliefs from their actions. They say they believe this one minute and that another, but their behavior is always in accordance with that, not this.

In the negative space, their belief is, “The harassment of these women is okay. My anger about video games is more important. I may not be harassing them myself, but they do kind of deserve it.” They will never say this out loud in a serious conversation, though many will say it in an anonymous or irreverent space where they can later deny they meant it. But, whatever they say they believe, this is the worldview they are operating under.

Obscuring this means flipping through a lot of contradictory arguments. The harassment is being faked, or it’s not being faked but it’s being exaggerated, or it’s not being exaggerated but the target is provoking it to get attention, which means GamerGate harassers simultaneously don’t exist, exist in small numbers, and exist in such large numbers someone can build a career out of relying on them! It can be kind of fun to take all these arguments made in isolation and try to string together an actual position. Like, GamerGate would argue that Nathan Grayson having previously mentioned Zoe Quinn in an article about a canceled reality show counts as positive coverage, and since Grayson reached out to Quinn for comment it’s reasonable to assume they started dating before the article was published (which is earlier than they claim), and positive coverage did lead to greater popularity for Depression Quest. But if you untangle that, it’s like… okay, you’re saying Zoe Quinn slept with a journalist in exchange for four nonconsecutive sentences that said no more than “Zoe Quinn exists and made a game,” and the price of those four sentences was to date the journalist for months, all to get rich off a game that didn’t cost any money. That’s your movement?

And some, if cornered, would say, “yes, we believe women are just that shitty, that one would fuck a guy for months if it made them the tiniest bit more famous.” But they won’t lead with that. Because they know it won’t convince the normies, even the ones who want to be convinced. So they use a process I call The Ship of Theseus to, piece by piece, turn that sentence into “slept with a journalist in exchange for a good review” and argue that each part of the sentence is technically accurate. It’s trying to lie without lying. And, provided all the pieces of this sentence are discussed separately, and only in the context of how they justify this sentence, you can trick yourself into believing this sentence is mostly true.

So, like, why? This is clearly motivated reasoning; what’s the motivation? What was this going to accomplish?

The answer is nothing. Nothing, by design. GamerGate’s “official” channels - the subreddit and the handful of forums that didn’t shut them down - were rigidly opposed to any action more organized than an email campaign. They had a tiny handful of tangible demands - they wanted gaming websites to post public ethics policies and had a list of people they wanted fired - but their larger aim was the sea change in how games journalism operated, which nothing they were asking for could possibly give them. The kind of anger that convinces you this is a true statement is not going to be addressed by a few paragraphs about ethics and Leigh Alexander getting a new job. They wanted gaming sites to stop catering to women and “SJWs” - who were a sizable and growing source of traffic - and to get out of the pockets of companies that advertised on their websites - which was their primary source of income. So all Kotaku had to do to make them happy was solve capitalism!

Meanwhile, the unofficial channels, like 8chan and Baphomet, were planning op after op to get private information, spread lies with fake accounts, get disinformation trending, make people quit jobs, cancel gigs, and flee their homes. Concrete goals with clear results. All you had to do to feel productive was go rogue. In my video,

How to Radicalize a Normie, I describe how the Alt-Right encourages lone wolf behavior by whipping people up into a rage and then refusing to give them anything to do, while surrounding them with examples of people taking matters into their own hands. The same mechanism is in play here: the public-facing channels don’t condone harassment but also refuse to fight it, the private channels commit it under cover of anonymity, and there is a free flow of traffic between them for when the official channels’ impotence becomes unbearable.

What I hope I’m illustrating is how these techniques play off of each other, how they create a closed ecosystem that rational thought cannot enter. There’s a phrase we use on the internet that got thrown around a lot at the time:

you can’t logic someone out of a position they didn’t logic themselves into.

Now, there are a few other big topics I think are relevant here, so I want to go through them one by one.

MEMEIFICATION

So a lot of interactions with GamerGate would involve a very insular knowledge base.

Like, you’d say something benign but progressive on Twitter.

A gater would show up in your mentions and say something aggressive and false.

You’d correct them. But then they’d come back and hit you with -

ah shit, sorry, this is a Loss meme.

If I were in front of a classroom I’d ask, show of hands, how many of you got that? I had to ask Twitter recently, does Gen Z know about Loss?!

If you don’t know what Loss is I’m not sure I can explain it to you. It’s this old, bad webcomic that was parodied so, so, so many times

that it was reduced to its barest essentials, to the point where any four panels with shapes in this arrangement is a Loss meme. For those of you in the know, you will recognize this anywhere, but have you ever tried to explain to someone who wasn’t in the know why this is really fuckin’ funny?

So, now… by the same process that this is a comics joke,

this is a rape joke.

I’m not gonna show the original image, but, once upon a time, someone made an animated GIF of the character Piccolo from Dragon Ball Z graphically raping Vegeta. 4chan loved it so much that it got posted daily, became known as the “daily dose,” until mods started deleting every incident of it. So they uploaded slightly edited version of it. Then they started uploading other images that had been edited with Piccolo’s color scheme. It got so abstracted that eventually any collection of purple and green pixels would be recognized as Piccolo Dick.

Apropos of nothing, GamerGate is a movement that insists it is not sexist in nature and it does not condone threats of rape against the women they don’t like. And this is their logo. This is their mascot.

If you’re familiar with the Daily Dose, the idea that GamerGate would never support Eron Gjoni if they believed he was a sexual abuser is so blatantly insincere it’s insulting… but imagine trying to explain to someone who’s not on 4chan how this sweater is a rape joke. Imagine having to explain it to a journalist. Imagine having to explain it to the judge enforcing your abuser’s restraining order.

Reactionaries use meme culture not just because they’re terminally online but also because it makes their behavior seem either benign or just confusing to outsiders. They find it hilarious that they can be really explicit and still fly under the radar. The Alt-Right did this with Pepe the Frog, the OK sign, even the milk glass emoji for a hot minute. The more inexplicable the meme, the better. You get the point where Stephen Miller is flashing Nazi signs from the White House and the Presidential re-eletion campaign is releasing 88 ads of exactly 14 words and there’s still a debate about whether the administration is racist. Because journalists aren’t going to get their heads around that. You tell them “1488 is a Nazi number,” it’s gonna seem a lot more plausible that you’re making shit up.

MOVE FAST AND BREAK THINGS

Online movements like GamerGate move at a speed and mutation rate too high for the mainstream world to keep up. And not just that they don’t understand the memes - they don’t understand the infrastructure.

In an attempt to cover GamerGate evenhandedly, George Wiedman of Super Bunnyhop interviewed a lawyer who specializes in journalistic ethics. He meant well; I really wish he hadn’t. You can see him trying to fit something like GamerGate into terms this silver-haired man who works in copyright law can understand. At one point he asks if it’s okay to fund the creative project of a potential journalistic source, to which the guy understandably says “no.”

What he’s alluding to here is the harassment of Jenn Frank. A few weeks into GamerGate, Jenn Frank writes a piece in The Guardian about sexism in tech that mentions Anita Sarkeesian and Zoe Quinn. In another case of “here’s a strongly-held belief I just decided I have,” GamerGate says this is a breach of journalistic ethics because Frank backs Quinn on Patreon. They harass her so intensely she not only has to quit her job at The Guardian, for several months she quits journalism entirely.

Off the bat, calling a public figure central to a major event in the field a “journalistic source” is flatly wrong-headed. Quinn was not interviewed or even contacted for the article, they were in no way a “source”; they were a subject. But I want to talk about this phrase, “fund a creative project.” Patreon is functionally a subscription; it’s a way of buying things. It’s technically accurate that Frank is funding Quinn’s creative project, but only in the sense that you are funding Bob Dylan’s creative project if you listen to his music. And saying Frank therefore can’t write about Quinn is like saying a music journalist can’t cover a Bob Dylan concert if they’ve ever bought his albums.

And we could talk about the ways that Patreon, as compared with other funding models, can create a greater sense of intimacy, and we also could comment that, well, that’s how an increasing number of people consume media now, so that perspective should be present in journalism. But maybe it means we should cover that perspective differently? I don’t know. It’s an interesting subject. But none of that’s going on in this conversation because this guy doesn’t know what Patreon is. It was only a year old at this point. Patreon’s been a primary source of my income for 5 years and my parents still don’t know what it is. (I think they think I’m a freelancer?) This guy hears “funding a creative project” and he’s thinking an investor, someone who makes a profit off the source’s success.

The language of straight society hasn’t caught up with what’s happening, and that works in GamerGate’s favor.

In the years since GamerGate we have dozens of stories of people trying to explain Twitter harassment to a legal system that’s never heard of Twitter. People trying to explain death threats to cops whose only relationship to the internet is checking email, confusedly asking, “Why don’t you just not go online?” Like, yeah, release your text game about depression at GameStop for the PS3 and get it reviewed in the Boston Globe, problem solved.

You see this in the slowness of mainstream journalists to condemn the harassment - hell, even games journalists at first. Because what if it is a legitimate movement? What if the harassers are just a fringe element? What if there was misconduct? The people in a position to stop GamerGate don’t have to be convinced of their legitimacy, they just have to hesitate. They just have to be unsure. Remember how much happened in just the first two weeks, how it took only a month to become unkillable.

It’s the same hesitance that makes mainstream media, online platforms, and law enforcement underestimate The Alt-Right. They’re terrified of condemning a group as white nationalist terrorists because they’re confused, and what if they’re wrong? Or, in most cases, not even afraid they’re wrong, but afraid of the PR disaster if too much of the world thinks they’re wrong.

ACCOUNTABILITY AND CONTROL

A thing I’ve talked about in The Alt-Right Playbook is how these decentralized, ostensibly leaderless movements insulate themselves from responsibility. Harassment is never the movement’s fault because they never told anyone to harass and you can’t prove the harassers are legitimate members of the movement. The Alt-Right does this too - one of their catchphrases is “I disavow.” Since there are no formalized rules for membership, they can redraw boundaries on the fly; they can take credit for any successes and deny responsibility for any wrongdoing. Public membership is granted or revoked based on a person’s moment-to-moment utility.

It’s almost like… they’re cherry-picking.

The flipside of this is a lack of control. Since they never officially tell anyone to do anything but write emails, they have no means of stopping anyone from behaving counterproductively. The harassment of Jenn Frank was the first time GamerGate’s originators thought, “maybe we should ease off just to avoid bad publicity,” and they found they couldn’t. GamerGate had gotten too big, and too many people were clearly there for precisely this reason.

They also couldn’t control the infighting. When your goal is to harass women and you have all these contradictory justifications for why, you end up with a lot of competing beliefs. And, you know what? Angry white men who like harassing people don’t form healthy relationships! Several prominent members of GamerGate - including Internet Aristocrat - got driven out by factionalism; they were doxxed by their own people! Jordan Owen and Davis Aurini parted ways hating each other, with Aurini releasing chatlogs of him gaslighting Owen about accepting an endorsement from Roosh, and they released two competing edits of The Sarkeesian Effect.

I say this because it’s useful to know that these are alliances of convenience. If you know where the sore spots are, you can apply pressure to them.

LEADERS WITHOUT LEADERSHIP

One way movements like GamerGate deflect responsibility is by declaring, “We are a leaderless movement! We have no means to stop harassment.”

Which… any anarchist will tell you collective action is entirely possible without leaders. But they’ll also tell you, absent a system of distributing power equitably, you’re gonna have leaders, just not ones you elected.

A few months into GamerGate, Randi Lee Harper created the ggautoblocker. Here’s what it did: it took five prominent GamerGate figures - Adam Baldwin, Mike Cernovich, Christina Hoff Sommers, Milo Yiannopoulos, and Nick Monroe, formerly known as [sigh] PressFartToContinue - and generated a block list of everyone who followed at least two of them on Twitter. Now, this became something of an arms race; once GamerGate found out about it they made secondary accounts that followed different people, and more and more prominent figures appeared and had to get added to the list. But, when it first launched, the list generated from just these five people comprised an estimated 90-95% of GamerGate.

Hate to break it to you, guys, but if 90+ percent of your movement is following at least two of the same five people, those are your leaders. The attention economy has produced them. Power pools when left on its own.

This is another case where you have to ignore what people claim and look at what they do. The Alt-Right loves to say “we disavow Richard Spencer” and “Andrew Anglin doesn’t speak for us.”

But no matter what they say, pay attention to whom they’re taking cues from.

AD CAMPAIGN

George Lakoff has observed that one way the Left fails in opposition to the Right is that most liberal politicians and campaigners have degrees in things like law and political science, where conservative campaigners more often have degrees in advertising and communications. Liberals and leftists may have a better product to sell, but conservatives know how to sell products.

GamerGate less resembles a boots-on-the-ground political movement than an ad campaign. First they decide what their messaging strategy is going to be. Then the media arm starts publicizing it. They seek out celebrity endorsements. They get their own hashtag and mascot. They donate to charity and literally call it “public relations.” You can even see the move from The Quinnspiracy to GamerGate as a rebranding effort - when one name got too closely associated with harassment, they started insisting GamerGate was an entirely separate movement from The Quinnspiracy. I learned that trick from Stringer Bell’s economics class.

Now, we could stand to learn a thing or two from this. But I also wouldn’t want us to adopt this strategy whole hog; you should view moves like these as red flags. If you’re hesitating to condemn a movement because what if it’s legitimate, take a look at whether they’re selling ideology like it’s Pepsi.

PERCEPTION IS EVERYTHING

One reason to insist you’re a consumer revolt rather than a harassment campaign is most people who want to harass need someone to give them permission, and need someone to tell them it’s normal.

Bob Altemeyer has this survey he uses to study authoritarianism. He divides respondents into people with low, average, and high authoritarian sentiments, and then tells them what the survey has measured and asks, “what score do you think is best to have: low, average, or high?”

People with low authoritarian sentiments say it’s best to be low. People with average authoritarian sentiments also say it’s best to be low. But people with high authoritarian sentiments? They say it’s best to be average. Altemeyer finds, across all his research, that reactionaries want to aggress, but only if it is socially acceptable. They want to know they are the in-group and be told who the out-group is. They don’t particularly care who the out-group is, Altemeyer finds they’ll aggress against any group an authority figure points to, even, if they don’t notice it, a group that contains them. They just have to believe the in-group is the norm.

This is why they have to believe games journalism is corrupt because of a handful of feminist media critics with outsized influence. Legitimate failures of journalism cannot be systemic problems rooted in how digital media is funded and consumed; there cannot be a legitimate market for social justice-y media. It has to be manipulation by the few. Because, if these things are common, then, even if you don’t like them, they’re normal. They’re part of the in-group. Reactionary politics is rebellion against things they dislike getting normalized, because they know, if they are normalized, they will have to accept them. Because the thing they care about most is being normal.

This is why the echo chamber, this is why Fox News, this is why the Far Right insists they are the “silent majority.” This is why they artificially inflate their numbers. This is why they insist facts are “biased.” They have to maintain the image that what are, in material terms, fringe beliefs are, in fact, held by the majority. This is why getting mocked by Stephen Colbert was such a blow to GamerGate. It makes it harder to believe the world at large agrees with them.

This is why, if you’re trying to change the world for the better, it’s pointless to ask their permission. Because, if you change the world around them, they will adapt even faster than you will.

THE ARGUMENT ISN’T SUPPOSED TO END

Casey Explosion has this really great Twitter thread comparing the Alt-Right to Scary Terry from Rick and Morty. His catchphrase is “you can run but you can’t hide, bitch.” And Rick and Morty finally escape him by hiding. And Morty’s all, “but he said we can’t hide,” and Rick is like, “why are we taking his word on this? if we could hide, he certainly wouldn’t tell us.”

The reason to argue with a GamerGater is on the implied agreement that, if you can convince them they’re part of a hate mob, they will leave. But look at the incentives here: they want to be in GamerGate, and you want them not to be. But they’re already in GamerGate. They’re not waiting on the outcome of this argument to participate. They’ve already got what they want; they don’t need to convince you GamerGate isn’t a hate mob.

This is why all their logic and rationalizations are shit, because they don’t need to be good. They’re not trying to win an argument. They’re trying to keep the argument going.

This has been a precept of conservative political strategy for decades. “You haven’t convinced us climate change is real and man-made, you need to do more studies.” They’re not pausing the use of fossil fuels until the results come in. “You haven’t convinced us there are no WMDs in Iraq, you need to collect more evidence.” They’re not suspending the war until you get back to them. “You haven’t convinced us that Reaganomic tax policy causes recessions, let’s just do it for another forty years and see what happens.” And when the proof comes in, they send us out for more, and we keep going.

The biggest indicator you can’t win a debate with a reactionary is they keep telling you you can. The biggest indicator protest and deplatforming works is they keep telling you in plays into their hands. The biggest indicator that you shouldn’t compromise with Republicans is they keep saying doing otherwise is stooping to their level. They’re not going to walk into the room and say, “Hi, my one weakness is reasoned argument, let’s pick a time and place to hash this out.”

And we fall for it because we’re trying to be decent people. Because we want to believe the truth always wins. We want to bargain in good faith, and they are weaponizing our good faith against us. Always dangling the carrot that the reason they’re like this is no one’s given them the right argument not to be. It’s all just a misunderstanding, and, really, it’s on us for not trying hard enough.

But they have no motivation to agree with us. Most of the people asking for debates have staked their careers on disagreeing with us. Conceding any point to the Left could cost them their livelihood.

WHY GAMES?

Let’s close with the big question: why games? And, honestly, the short answer is:

why not games?

Games culture has always presented itself as a hobby for young, white, middle class boys. It’s always been bigger and more diverse than that, but that’s how it was marketed, and that’s who most felt they belonged. As gaming grows bigger, there is suddenly room for those marginal voices that have always been there to make themselves heard. And, as gaming becomes more mainstream, it’s having its first brushes with serious critical analysis.

This makes the people who have long felt gaming was theirs and theirs alone anxious and a little angry. They’ve invested a lot of their identity in it and they don’t want it to change.

And what the Far Right sees in a sizable collection of aggrieved young men is an untapped market. This is why sites like Stormfront and Breitbart flocked to them. These are not liberals they have to convert, these people are, up til now, not politically engaged. The Right can be their first entry to politics.

The world was changing. Nerd properties were exploding into popular culture in tandem with media representation diversifying. And we were living with the first Black President. Any time an out-group looks like it might join the in-group, there is a self-protective backlash from the existing in-group. This had been brewing for a while, and, honestly, if it hadn’t boiled over in games, it would have boiled over somewhere else.

And, in the years since GamerGate, it has. The Far Right has tapped the comics, Star Wars, and sci-fi fandoms; they tried to get in with the furry community but failed spectacularly. They’re all over YouTube and, frankly, the atheist community was already in their pocket. Basically, if you’re in community with a bunch of young white guys who think they own the place, you might wanna have some talks with them sooner than later.

Anyway, if you want to know more about any of this stuff, RationalWiki’s timeline on GamerGate is pretty thorough. You can also watch my or Dan Olson’s videos on the subject. I’ll be putting the audio of this talk on YouTube and will put as many resources as I can in the show notes. The channel, again, is Innuendo Studios.

Sorry this was such a bummer.

Thank you for your time.

[tezzbot]

applejack headcanons in a sort of timeline i have in my head based on the flashbacks/statements in the show lol this is gonna get long i apologise

aj is born in the sweet apple acres barn to bright mac and pear butter :D

we get the apple family reunion episode flashback where she is lichrally baby asking for apple fritters 🥺

she grows up a bit, just by family gene pool luck shes a strong little fucker and as she grows her family realises she's not just physically strong but strong willed too, it becomes a running joke that shes secretly part mule with how stubborn she can be :P

bright mac had a dog from when he was younger that he loved with all his heart, big mac loved him too but applejack thought was a grumpy old lump of a beast she just Did Not Like This Animal you know how kids can be lmaooo

applejack and big mac dont really leave the farm all that much, theyre homeschooled by their parents and granny smith so, generally they dont have that many friends their age in their childhood, they say hi and play a bit with fillies and colts they pass while helping out with deliveries, aj and rarity possibly have a few interactions through this but nothing really sticks at this point, they know each others names and thats probably it, the apple siblings are a big hit with usual customer and ponies who sell them things in the market

pear butter teaches aj how to play the guitar and she practices until her hooves hurt, her ma is very proud of her, they like to play duets when they have some alone time :] then, deciding to branch out from that applejack also picks up other instruments like the banjo and the fiddle, they find out she has quite a knack for music! (applejack is only slightly disappointed she doesnt get her cutie mark from it, but unlike applebloom would be in the future, she doesnt mind all that much, after all granny smith always said it'd come with time 😌)

not long after little applebloom is born we get the great seedling episode flashback which is a turning point in applejack, a moment like finding out santa or the tooth fairy isnt real, she matures a little bit that day, gains more of the work ethic we see in her as an adult

around this time is when bright mac and pear butter die :( i dont have a concrete headcanon on How they die but the dangerous trade routes the apples have to take to make deliveries may have had something to do with it, or maybe they were trying to protect the farm from something coming from the everfree forest, im not sure

the rest of the apple family make their way to sweet apple acres to give their condolences and help out in any way they can around the farm while our apples grieve :( its sad but it brings aj and big mac closer than they'd ever been

after shes recovered a little from that, i think aj kind of loses herself, i mean how can you not after losing both parents :(( so she decides to leave the farm in the hopes she'll be able to find herself again in manehattan, this is the cutie mark chronicles flashback and where she realises she belongs in ponyville, Runs home and gets her cutiemark

after a little bit, to help her become a little bit more social with foals her age, applejack goes to camp friendship where she meets little coloratura and the two Immediately click, aj gives her new best friend the nickname rara and they're practically inseparable the whole summer, their friendship starts to grow into something more but rara is heading back to manehatten after camp and applejack belongs back in ponyville, so they decide to give a lonb distance relationship a try, they manage to exchange letters back and forth for a long time, ultimately deciding a long distance relationship wasnt gonna work so they mutually decide to break up but still stay pen pals! after a while, the letters stop and they become just a memory in one anothers minds

sweet apple acres eventually returns to a business as usual state, with groups of relatives stopping by the farm now and again to give a helping hoof considering its now run by a late-middle aged lady, two children and a baby lol, applejack, while still doing a lot of tree bucking, is starting to take on a more maternal figure role in applebloom's life as well as being her sister, her and big mac feels more responsible and protective of the foal since she would be growing up with no ma and pa, they sort of took on those roles, applejack more intensely i guess i just see her as having strong maternal instincts embedded in her or something lol, but she for sure isnt "single mom"ing it, with granny smith and other relatives ready to take the little bugger when aj needs to get stuff done :P it takes a village and all that lmao

since at this time aj and big mac are starting to go into town more often and are free to do as they please as long as their chores get done, they start actually interacting more with teens their age in ponyville! applejack starts hanging out with fillies like rarity who she had known in passing but now could finally get to know and the cake's new apprentice and ponyvilles youngest party planner, pinkie pie

after starting to hit some awkward growth spurts as she reaches her teens lol, she starts taking an interest in the business side of the farmwork too, dealings with customers, looking into trade routes stuff like that, this is when the where the apple lies flashback takes place i fuckin love that episode please watch it, and this starts applejack's lifelong promise to never lie ever again which she keeps bc shes a legend as fuck <3

one day aj notices cloudsdale passing through probably to start preparing ponyville for the next season, and she hears a Thud coming from a row or two over from where she's working, she goes over to investigate to find a pegasus filly shaking off what aj can only assume was a crash, she asks if shes alright, n the filly is like of course i am im so tough toughest around actually thanks<3 and aj is internally like hm. this kids kinda annoying. they introduce themselves and applejack finds out rainbow dash is looking for her friend fluttershy, she likes to come down from cloudsdale to play with animals or something, but applejack hasnt seen any yellow pegasi fillies around so the little blue filly says thanks anyway and zips off at what aj can only describe as probably the speed of light, she somehow has a strange feeling this isnt gonna be the last she sees of this kid

she turns out to be right when shes invited to a happy visit to ponyville from cloudsdale party thrown for rainbow and fluttershy, apparently rainbow had bumped into pinkie while asking around ponyville for any idea where fluttershy and of course pinkie Had to make an event out of it once she had helped rainbow find her friend, the party was of course a lot of fun rainbow and aj somehow managed to turn every party game into a competition and despite their first impressions of one another they actually got along really well and gained a good amount of respect for each other, aj eventually found fluttershy sort of hiding away from most of the party and fluttershy actually opened up a little after talking with aj bc of how calming her presence was for her

over the next few years the five got to know each other quite well, anytime cloudsdale passed by rainbow and fluttershy would drop into ponyville to hang out or just say hi, and once they were old enough they moved into their ponyville houses and the five of them became just a regular friend group youd see hanging out on the streets of ponyville, fluttershy helps aj pick out a border collie puppy for help with wrangling critters on the farm (applebloom was getting too old to be sent off to mindlessly run after little animals all the time and she had started going to school so she wasnt around as much lmaoo) and just as a companion for applejack, she names her Winona :]

and then after those few years Twilight shows up! you know the rest from there :P

if i missed anything uhhh whoops<3 lol

[cc-tinslebee]

Okay, so, about a month ago, my brain just conjured up probably the most random au possible: Legally Blonde Adam Banks/banksway au.

Believe me, it's as chaotic as it sounds, but lowkey, I'm kind of in love with it.

Adam never joins the Ducks because there aren't any Ducks to join. Bombay never had to do community service with District Five so there was no one to realise that Adam was on the wrong team all along. He continues to play for the Hawks and, eventually, the Eden Hall Warriors, never getting the chance to become the well-rounded individual we know him as because he's never known anything other than his rich privilege and the "win at all costs" mentality. He ends up going to college on a hockey scholarship and not straight to the NHL or the AHL (shocking, I know). While he's unsure of his major and where his life is heading, he finds solace in the fraternity he joins, which, by some sheer twist of fate, Jesse and Guy have also miraculously joined.

And his life is perfect for a while. He's the star player on yet another school's hockey team, all of his fraternity brothers adore him (though, it took a bit for Jesse to warm up to him), and his secret, not-really-official thing with his former teammate is going swimmingly. (Not to slander my boy, but I was picturing Larson for the role of Warner, purely because the alternative seems to be Rick Riley and that's kind of an unsettling image-- though, maybe that's the point?)

But then his secret boyfriend breaks up with him because, with his high aspirations in life, he needs to be "more serious." And dating Adam Banks, a guy in a stereotypical fraternity who only really knows hockey, in 2001 isn't exactly the white-picket-fence life he's looking for if he's going to be a politician.

And since this non-Duck Adam clearly doesn't have the braincells that canon Adam does, in his devastation, he decides it's a brilliant idea to prove that he is serious by applying to Harvard Law. His parents try to talk him out of it, since they want him to pursue his dreams of hockey, but being a lawyer is a respectable career so they can't exactly argue with him.

He gets accepted thanks to Jesse, Guy, and the rest of his fraternity helping him study for the LSAT and keeping him on track. He's trying his darndest when he gets to Harvard, but (despite his struggle not being as significant as Elle Woods'), not a lot of people take him seriously as an aspiring lawyer, considering him a meathead jock who only got in because of daddy's money.

And that's about the time he meets Linda, who he vaguely remembers from his time at Eden Hall. What he doesn't remember is her being so competitive, because she's deliberately beating him at every turn, just trying (and kind of succeeding) at making him look like a fool. To make matters worse, all of the sudden, she's engaged to his ex-boyfriend, who is very adamant about never telling anyone that he and Adam were more than friends (because, you know, early 2000s homophobia and such).

But things get a little brighter for Adam when he meets Charlie, an undergrad teacher's assistant who gives him all sorts of advice about surviving the school. He introduces him to Professor Bombay, who Charlie claims is the only reason he survived his first year and quickly becomes Adam's favourite teacher, and Charlie's childhood friend Connie, who aspires to be a state senator one day. Charlie's charismatic and even if he's not the most well-liked person at Harvard, Adam feels a weight lifted off his shoulders once he becomes friends with him and Connie. Things become a little easier.

Just before he and Charlie start getting really close, Adam meets Casey at a local diner on a day he's feeling particularly upset and alone, and the two start bonding almost immediately. (He bullshits his way into scaring an ex-husband of hers with legal repercussions he has no idea about and she basically adopts him in return.) It takes him an embarrassing amount of time to realise that it's not just a coincidence that Casey and Charlie share the same last name, which results in poor Adam feeling extremely embarrassed for not connecting the dots sooner while Charlie's having the time of his life teasing him for it. Eventually, when the dust of that settles, Charlie and Adam join forces to set Casey and Bombay up, their schemes borderline ridiculous at times, but they'rere not exactly failing.

And after realising he isn't the Warriors moron she thought he was for going on five years, Linda starts warming up to Adam, which is surprisingly nice? She figures out on her own that there used to be something between him and her fiancé, and is more understanding of Adam than she is mad. Linda actually spills to him the lengths Adam's ex had to go through to actually get into Harvard, aligning more with the rumours about Adam's acceptance being bought than having the aptitude for the law that Linda and Adam share. (This may be me saying Linda and Adam friendship rights, what of it-- /lh)

To make things all the better, Bombay chooses Adam, Linda, Connie, Charlie, and Adam's ex to be on his legal team for a murder case he's responsible for (and while he knows about Adam and Charlie's ploys to hook him up with Charlie's mom, they're his favourites, so he doesn't say anything).

And this is just so much better than anything he had before. After all the initial unpleasantness, Linda and Connie become some of the most genuine friends he's ever had. He misses Guy and Jesse, of course, and he'd never take them for granted, but back when he was with them at the fraternity, a part of him was still being as superficial as he had been in middle and high school. Being authentic for once in his life is liberating.

And Charlie's just about the most considerate person Adam's ever met. Adam doesn't even mind when Charlie teases him over his absurd and juvenile insults because he's just this source of light for Adam, supporting him and always pushing him to be the best version of himself. His ex hardly even exists when Charlie's around because his energy is just so contagious that Adam starts falling for him long before he even realises it. (And when Jesse and Guy come to visit, there's a moment where it all clicks and the four of them realise their history together, however brief. I strongly maintain that they'd be that Starkid meme: "Fucking Hawks? We hated you guys!" "We hated ourselves!" But it does make Adam realise how much better off he would've been if he had Charlie and his team when he was little instead of the Hawks, and it just further makes him understand that people like Larson and Rick Riley just aren't worth it.)

But there's also another revelation Adam goes through. Between helping Casey, his rigorous studies, and his position working with/for Bombay, something just clicks for Adam. He likes being able to help people, fighting for the good guys who may not have the resources they need to be properly defended. Practicing law calls to him in the same way hockey did; it's the feeling of knowing this is what he's meant to do. He still loves hockey, he always will, but it helps him finally grasp that there's a world for him outside of it; when hockey ends for him, there's something equally as rewarding that he can pursue, which was something he never thought he would have.

I haven't a single coherent thought about this au past that point except for these little inklings of an ending--

There's absolutely no SA scene like the movie had; Bombay's just Adam and Charlie's favourite teacher and those are his boys, so he's going to make sure they succeed as if his life depends on it.

With that said, Bombay believes in them both enough to let them finish the case because with their joined determination/stubbornness (and Adam's in with the defendant), Adam and Charlie are a force to be reckoned with and he knows it.

After a handful of comedic failures, they do end up succeeding at their attempts to set Casey and Bombay up, and they start living together sometime during the kids' Junior year :) (All I'm asking is for one (1) story with a Casey/Gordon endgame-- I just think they're neat--)

Linda dumps her fiancé (as she should) and goes on to live her best wlw life as a successful lawyer. (If I'm not mistaken, Linda's actress actually is a lawyer, which is a pretty cool fun fact!!)

Adam and Linda's ex gets the Warner ending because, man, screw that guy /lh (rip to Larson if this is him, I'm sure you'll get a nice endgame in some other universe, king)

Honorary mention for Connie, who was going long distance with Guy this entire time to everyone but Jesse's shock, and they get their Game Changers endgame of State Senator Connie Moreau and stay-at-home dad Guy Germaine with their seven -- sorry, three -- children :)

Adam's an absolute bundle of nerves after graduation, which definitely concerns Charlie. So, when he asks if he's okay, Adam starts nervously monologuing about their time together until he runs out of breath. He ends it by proposing to him, and Charlie smiles so surely at him when he says yes. They both become damn good public defenders and stay engaged until the point they can legally get married, but they're practically husbands long before that happens.

Also, if I did my math right (which I should’ve, it’s my entire basis for my Share Your Address series), the Ducks’ would have the same graduating class year as Elle Woods anyway (2004), which is pretty neat!

Thank you once again for listening to me ramble :)

[arrowflier]

A fic prompt if you'd like: Mickey opening up to Ian about details of his childhood and the abuse he suffered. In 11x06 after Terry is brought home Mickey says he could do anything to him now like "piss on him and let him air dry" and "use his mouth as an ash tray". To me it sounds like those are examples of things that Terry has done to him.

Content warning: child abuse

the things he did

“You’re so much better than that.”

Ian’s words echoed in Mickey’s head while the cooked dinner together. They resonated as they sat side by side at the table to eat, shoulders brushing, rings glinting in the harsh lights of the kitchen. They played on loop as they retired to the living room, alone for once with everyone else out for the night who knew where, sitting close on the sofa as mindless sitcoms droned on from the television.

“What if I’m not?” Mickey asked abruptly, when it got to be too much.

Ian turned to look at him, face full of shadows in the blue light from the tv.

“What if you’re not what?” he questioned, confused, and Mickey shifted away from him, bringing a knee onto the sofa between them to face his husband.

“Not better than that,” he answered, and saw Ian realize what he was talking about. It was in the way his eyes softened in that harsh light, the way his lips turned down at the thought that Mickey might question himself.

He always took it personally when Mickey did that.

“You are, Mickey,” Ian reassured instantly, just as expected. “I know you are.”

Mickey shook his head, looking down. His fingers scratched at the label of his beer, tearing it from the condensation-wet bottle.

“You don’t,” he said quietly. “No one fucking does.” He shook his head, looked up again into Ian’s green eyes. “You don’t just come away from a life like that and turn out alright.”

Ian looked like he wanted to argue. His chin was already pushing out, his lips pressed tight and thin.

Mickey didn’t give him a chance.

“If you knew half the things he did to us, man,” Mickey laughed humorlessly, averting his gaze again. “He should be on death row right now, not sitting next door with a roof over his fuckin’ head.”

“Tell me,” Ian prompted softly, but Mickey shook his head.

“You don’t want to hear this shit, Ian.” At least, Mickey didn’t want him to hear it. Didn’t want him to think of Terry when he looked at Mickey’s face.

“I do though,” Ian countered easily. “Wanna know everything about you, Mick.”

He was always saying things like that. Always trying to challenge the barriers Mickey put up.

But Mickey always challenged his, too, so he supposed that it was a fair enough trade.

“Fuckin’ sap,” Mickey said anyway, glancing up at Ian’s face and down again. “Gonna change what you think of me,” he added more quietly, and bit his lip at how pathetic it made him sound.

“Mickey,” Ian said. That was it, just his name. But it made things better, somehow. “Nothing can change how I feel about you,” Ian went on. “Besides, I was there for some it, remember?”

Mickey snorted, and took a swig of beer.

“How could I fuckin’ forget?”

They sat in silence for a long moment, only the sound of the clock ticking behind them and the strains of an annoying jingle on the TV filling the room. Ian didn’t scoot any closer, didn’t ask Mickey again. He just sat in his presence, calming sipping his own drink, and waited Mickey out.

It was a technique that never failed him.

“It wasn’t too bad when our mom was there,” Mickey started out of nowhere. “She was strung out most of the time, but she cared, you know?” He ran a hand through his hair, scratched his neck. “At least in her own way.”

“And when she wasn’t?” Ian prompted gently. Not pushing, just providing a guiding hand.

Mickey shook his head. “When she wasn’t, things really went to hell.”

A beat. The TV had changed over to some new infomercial, an obnoxiously eager voice droning on about the ‘next best thing’, whatever that was. Mickey ignored it. They both did.

“Iggy and Colin were already used to it, I think,” Mickey expanded. “They were around more the first few times she left, when Mandy and I were still in school. They knew what was coming when she was gone for good.”

Ian made a sound, deep in his throat. He set down his glass on the coffee table, overlapping the multitude of condensation rings that already marred the surface, and grabbed up the carton of cigarettes that lay there. He lit it with a spare lighter, took a drag, and passed it over to Mickey’s waiting hand.

“What about you?” he asked casually. Too casually for the way his fingers shook when Mickey took the cigarette from him.

Mickey scoffed. “Me?” he repeated, then took a drag himself. He held it in as long as he could, breathed it out in a plume of smoke that hid the new wetness in his eyes.

“I was a naive little shit whose mamma hadn’t warned him how bad Terry could get,” Mickey said, then took another hit.

“The first time he hit me—really hit me, not just a cuff around the ears for mouthing off—he laid me out flat on the kitchen floor. I had eaten the last side of bacon, see,” he explained. “Mandy made it for me after school. And Terry’d been savin’ it for after whatever run he was out on.”

Ian stayed silent.

“Couldn’t tell him it was Mandy’s fault,” Mickey went on. “He didn’t care that she was a girl.” Mickey flicked the ashes off the end of the cigarette, watched them fall. Watched the tiny burns it made on the knee of his jeans. “Didn’t care until she was useful.”

Ian swallowed hard at the reminder of what Terry had done to his best friend. But this was about Mickey right now, not Mandy, and as much as she was entrenched in that part of his life, it wasn’t what he needed to get out.

So Ian scooted closer, brushed ashes off Mickey’s knee and rested his hand there, waiting.

Mickey stared at the point of contact, then at his cigarette again.

“You know he used to burn me with these?” Mickey asked abruptly, waving the lit stick in his hand. “Think it was an accident, the first time. Caught me suckin’ on a candy one when I was a kid, told me I needed to man up. Tried to stick a lit one in my mouth, but he was drunk. Used the wrong end.”

He tongued the corner of his lips. “Couldn’t eat for two days while it was healin’.” He chuckled, shook his head. “I was suck a fuckin’ wimp back then, man.”

“Not the worst thing he’s put in my mouth, though,” Mickey continued, on a roll now. His voice was faint, full of that absent quality it got when he wasn’t really there. When he was reliving his nightmares in real time.

“Stumbled into my room more than once looking for the toilet,” he confided. “Forgot there was a second door, I think. He usually just went in the corner, but he got me on my bed more than once.”

Mickey paused, looked up at Ian through his lashes.

“You know why I don’t breathe through my mouth anymore?”

Ian shook his head.

“Wakin’ up to the taste of piss will teach you that trick real quick.”

The cigarette was gone, now, and his beer was only dregs. Mickey stared at a space over Ian’s shoulder, breathing heavy, refusing to let his eyes spill over.

He was done crying for the kid that let his dad walk all over him. He was done crying for Terry. He was done with all of it.

And he really, really wished that were true.

“Frank locked me in the basement, once,” Ian stated suddenly, taking the empty beer bottle out of Mickey’s hand and placing it with his own glass on the table. “During one of my mom’s episodes, when she wouldn’t get out of bed.”

Mickey just looked at him. Let Ian take his hand, turn it over to hold it in his.

“He told Fiona I was at a sleepover, and she believed him—forgot I didn’t really have any friends.” Ian grinned, then, but it was empty, almost sharp.

You had friends, Mickey wanted to say. You had family. You had me.

But the first and the last were lies, and the middle wasn’t always a blessing.

“Lip found me two days later,” Ian told him. “He got suspicious when he saw Frank taking food down there; he was an asshole, but he wasn’t gonna starve a kid on purpose, at least.”

Ian laughed, and rubbed his free hand along the leg of his pants.

“He just didn’t want to look at me.”

Mickey gripped his hand tighter.

“Why are you tellin’ me this?” he asked. “It’s not a fuckin’ competition, man.”

“I’m just saying,” Ian pressed on. “We don’t have to be our dads, Mickey.”

Oh. And there it was. Ian, his husband, ever the optimist.

“What if we don’t get that choice?” Mickey questioned. He’d seen it often enough, after all. Milkoviches that tried to get out, tried to do better for themselves and their kids.

But they always ended up back where they started. They always ended up under Terry’s roof, and under his thumb, just waiting for another chance to break free.

Ian shrugged, and pulled him closer, tucking Mickey’s head into the space between his own neck and shoulder. Mickey made a grumbling sound, but went without protest, tilting his head so that his nose rested near Ian’s collarbone.

“Then I guess we have to kill each other,” Ian stated blandly.

Mickey gave a stunned, barked laugh, breath hitching and releasing in a wash of hot air over Ian’s neck.

“Ian, what the fuck?” he managed, but Ian only gripped him tighter, pressing his face into skin so that he couldn’t speak.

“It’s for the greater good, Mick,” Ian assured him. “Mutually assured destruction, and all that, right?”

He ran a hand down Mickey’s back, scratching lightly.

“I lock you in a basement, you take me out,” he declared. “You piss on me—well, without my permission at least—”

“Ew, Ian, Jesus Christ—”

“I get to murder you in your sleep.” Ian pulled back just enough to look at him, Mickey meeting his eyes without a struggle this time. For all the macabre discussions, Ian’s eyes were bright.

“Deal?” Ian asked, and Mickey finally smiled.

“Yeah, alright, tough guy,” he agreed. “It’s a fuckin’ deal.”

[lanshappycorner]

Deuce Spade facts and fun facts🥳🥳

This is a list of facts and fun facts about Deuce! This list is based on true facts only and any observations I've made, however observations can be subjective, so those will be labeled properly! Let's start off with some facts already in the wiki :)

First Yr, class 1-A, student no.24

Birthday: June 3

Age: at the beginning of the game, Deuce is 16, but currently, he is 17 [his profile in game has not been updated, but as time is proven to flow in game, it is unclear but can be interpreted that the characters do canonly age]

Gemini

173 cm / 5'8" ft

Homeland: Rose kingdom

Family: Mother, Grandmother, it is implied that his father is out of the picture as Deuce states that he is the only man in the family so his father has either left or is dead

Club: Track and Field [alongside Jack]

Best subject: PE

Dominant hand: Right

Fav food: Egg dishes / omurice

Least fav food: Bell peppers

Dislikes: Limited time sales

Hobby: Magical wheel (twst motorcycle I guess but it looks kinda funky)

Talents: Machinery Maintainance [good with fixing gadgets and etc]

Used to be a delinquent before he heard his mother crying on the phone to his grandmother about his behavior. Afterwards he decided to change

Owns a pink leopard printed suit

Cannot do middle school math, he will take a lot of time to solve simple Algebra problems

Gets nervous and stops functioning entirely when talking to women

Onto some fun facts outside of the wiki! These facts have been gathered from various sources (ppl who can read japanese, ppl who have told me abt info in the twst guidebook, twitter, and ofc the main translated story), but I cannot prove 100% authenticity of this, so take it with a gain of salt

Canonly a pretty boy. Deuce is described as the "cool pretty type" in the twst guidebook

Smells like flowers [applies to all students from Rose kingdom]

A romantic, he admired the king and queen of heart's relationship and trey teased him about it

Thought that baby chicks hatch from store bought eggs until the MC and Grim told him the truth

Can cook eggs (he likes them over easy)

Wanted to make a magical wheel club but was rejected so he joined track and field

Bought magical wheel magazines when he was younger and studied it

Wanted to ride his magical wheel in the heartslabyul maze (mentioned he forgets bad things when he rides it so like...it makes him feel better)

Hates limited times sales/shopping but is extremely good at it. He can remember the price of an item, when exactly it sells out, the percentage/probability of when it can sell out, discount prices and pretty much any math that has to do with it [he's extremely good at shopping because his mother brought him out a lot with her to limited time sales]

In addition to the point above, it is implied he can memorize and calculate that for pretty much every item he intends on buying (everything I listed above is in relation to the time he bought 20 limited time puddings which greatly impressed Sebek who wasn't able to grab even 1, but it was later revealed that he also bought 8 bag full of items requested by Trey for baking, as well as the others probably from heartslabyul) so basically Deuce big brain and very good memorization abilities

Hilariously in the instance above, Sebek, who is like...a real fae, has said that what Deuce did was not something a human can do

Flirted with a plant because vil was fucking around with him and told him to

Was ready to fist fight Riddle

Was about to go find Leona to beat him up but Vil was like do u have no fear and Deuce pretty much said that he can get thru to Leona with his muscles

Was about to fight Malleus (jesus christ) but ended up fixing his tamagotchi and came out completely loaded and rich (good for deuce, get that cha ching babey)

Won a Track and Field competition (noted to be rare for a first year)

He is literally a pretty boy, it's been pointed out that he looks good in the ceremonial clothes (but we already know that)

Admires Riddle and sees him as a role model, has called him boss (like...yakuza boss terminology) once

[Observation] Has a pretty good relationship with Jamil as he has asked Jamil to help him practice his Stargazer dance, and mentioned him once again when talking about how Jamil fixed his hat and said that he was a reliable upperclassman

Has said fuck and would not hesitate to say it again 🥺

Has been called honest and cute, was fawned over by kalim and trey. Kalim said Deuce was similar to his younger brothers

During his delinquent phase, he was blamed for many things he didn't do as well, Deuce said that he realized no one believed in him despite what he says, but because a policeman stood up for him, he wanted to become a cop when he grew up

Used intimidation tactics [the equivalent of "u wanna fucking go let's go I'll beat ur ass" to scare off ppl and silver was like hm I will have to try that sometime, to which deuce was pretty much like ahahah no dont

Deuce refers to Yuu as his "mabu", basically calling Yuu his best friend

He can change a lightbulb, and he talks abt hand washing materials and just domestic house stuff in general as if it's common knowledge. In other words it's implied Deuce is really good at housework due to doing a lot for his mother

When he was a kid, he used to cry because he thought there were monsters outside, but it was just hanging laundry

Is more scared of Riddle than ghosts

It's implied that one time (or several times...) he stayed after school with Crewel, and the poor guy had to attempt to explain the same concept over and over again to Deuce for hours until he understood

Ace always cheats in card games with Deuce, so Deuce claims that it's not very fun playing with him

Bad at astrology bc apparently all stars look the same to him

Likes cafe latte

Does tease ppl, he once messed with Yuu and in the process called Ace "Ace-kun" (Ace called him "Deuce-kun" as well). There has been an instance where he's teased Jack about his Niceness TM

Used to have over 30 gang members following him at age 14-15. (You'd think that him being so young would make him like a lackey but no he was the boss)

Has a thing for summoning cauldrons since he was young, but apparently you need to have a large amount of magic capabilities to summon objects, so [observation] deuce may actually be extremely powerful bc he was able to summon things at a young age, but he hasn't refined his powers yet so he still seems weak compared to a lot of the cast

During his delinquent phase, apparently he had a really wild hairstyle and he used his magic on people weaker than him

[Observation] Deuce is actually pretty good at lying. In his Halloween card he was able to put up a good act and deceive some of his ex gang members into following him into the forest before mildly roughing them up (keep in mind that he has not had contact with these ppl for at least a year, yet somehow he was able to assert enough authority to tell them to follow him. Also, he thought of this plan on the spot, and acted malicious enough so that the gang members would believe in him—which proves that he's not only quick witted but a convincing actor, as Jamil actually believed his act for a while)

It's implied that he and Ace are often in leadership positions, as they helped to lead heartslabyul in designing their Halloween booth, but they also mentioned that it was much easier compared to organizing unbirthday parties

[Observation] despite wanting to be an honor student, Deuce is still able to take unjustly means to achieve his goals (EX. Making a deal with Azul to pass his test), in general, deuce doesn't care too much about the method, be it through cheating or violence to get to his goal, but he does value a fair battle

[Observation] a lot of Deuce's strengths are subtle as we are frequently told abt how much of a bad student he is, but if u rly think abt it, deuce is put in leadership positions a lot, he's good a memorization and small technical details, he can be at times quick witted and deceiving, and he has the potential to be extremely powerful in magic. In conclusion Deuce is a menace and once we find out what his unique magic is I'm 100.01% sure he will become a greater menace and I think he should fight a lot of people and win

That will be all for this post! There may be more fun facts/observations that I may have missed, but feel free to add on to this! Anyways thank u for reading and please stan Deuce Spade♠️💙

[killing-all-joy]

Sometimes Having Terrible Aim Is Worth It

Pairing: Analogince Word count: 4,492 Logan uses he/they pronouns cw: swearing, snowball fights, mentions of murder, implied bad parents, i might have made lore for this at 1am while bored whoops

Overall, Roman and Logan were happy with their neighborhood. The location was convenient for both of their works (the theatre and the high school) and the environment was very lax. It was a low-crime, middle-class neighborhood with people who seemed very nice.

Roman, the sociable one, had made friends with many of the people on their block, only leaving a couple of houses alone. He had told Logan that all the people he had talked with were amiable people worthy of their friendship. So, Logan had accompanied his boyfriend during conversations with their neighbors on occasion, despite being an introvert with a general disappointment in the human race.

It wasn’t with ease that Roman was able to leave the house on their right alone. He had been warned not to bother the man who lived there as soon as he had moved in and started to make friends with his new neighbors. A blonde woman who Roman guessed to be about twenty years older than him had knocked on the door the evening after the two had moved in and given them the gist of the neighborhood. Her name was Janet, and she had told them about which houses had kids (as well as which kids were the best or quietest), how many people lived at each house, what each resident was like, and finally, about the man who lived next door.

Apparently, he was introverted and creepy, didn’t have friends, had the scariest Halloween decorations, worked at an age-old psychiatric hospital, and was rude and disagreeable. Janet had sufficiently discouraged Roman and Logan from interacting with him, but even if she hadn’t, the reports from their other neighbors would have done the job.

One kid said she had knocked on his door on Halloween, and he had opened the door and snarled at her with a realistic vampire outfit on, laughing evilly as she ran away. One mother said she had gone to his house to ask for a cup of sugar, and he had given her a cup of salt instead. Three kids all said they had seen him near the haunted house on Fridays. There was a rumor going around that he had killed the previous owners of the house Roman and Logan now resided in because their cat had made a small scratch on his car (Logan and Roman were less inclined to believe that last rumor; it was evidence-less, unlike the others).

But, other than the next-door neighbor they were both terrified of, Roman and Logan liked their living situation very much.

It was January, right in the middle of winter. The weather refused to let their area forget this fact; the week had started out with a snowstorm and after one day of pause, it had snowed every day for the next four days. It was now Friday, the fourth consecutive day of having snow, and the neighborhood kids had calmed about the state of the weather. Earlier in the week, Roman and Logan would often look out their window to find kids playing in the snow. Now, the excitement had dialed down and the kids were exhausted. The couple figured that sometime in the middle of the next week, the kids would be back to causing snowy chaos, but there was still almost a week until that hypothesis would be put to the test. At the current time, the block was quiet.

Roman appeared next to Logan, who was reading. He perched himself on the armrest of Logan's armchair and put an arm around his boyfriend.

"Hey, Logan?" Roman asked, taking a lock of Logan's hair and twirling it between his fingers.

"What is it you want, darling?" Logan replied, not looking up from his book.

Roman frowned. "I never said I wanted something."

"You called me Logan," he explained like it were obvious, "so, you want something."

Roman rolled his eyes, wishing his boyfriend wasn't so observant. "I want to have a snowball fight outside."

Logan raised an eyebrow, keeping his eyes on the novel in his hands. "I assume that you want me to join?"

Roman nodded. "Who else would I fight?"

"I also imagine you will annoy me about this subject until I acquiesce, or the snow melts?"

Roman nodded again.

"What's in it for me?"

Roman furrowed his eyebrows in thought. "Well...maybe, after the fight, we can curl up next to each other on the couch in our blankets, hot chocolate in hand, and we can watch Doctor Who or whatever while we snuggle."

Logan bit his lip.

"You know you want to."

Logan rolled their eyes. "I most certainly do not."

Roman grinned at him cheekily. "Bullshit," he said sweetly, "now come with me."

He took the book from Logan's hands and set it on the table. He grabbed a receipt from nearby and put it on the open pages, before slamming the novel shut and pulling his boyfriend to his feet.

Logan made a noise of surprise as he was dragged to the door by his boyfriend.

"Roman, wait!" Logan exclaimed, putting a hand on Roman's arm. "Let me get my gloves and hat on first."

Logan, who was already in a blue patterned sweater and dark purple scarf, dashed to his and Roman's room. He opened his closet and picked out his navy blue beanie and red gloves. He put them on quickly, not wanting to have to deal with Roman's manhandling once again.

He raced back to Roman who was waiting for him at the door impatiently. When he saw Logan, his expression brightened to one of adoration.

"Oh my gosh, mi querido, you look adorable!"

Logan huffed. "I am not adorable."

Roman laughed. "Yes, you are."

Logan knew that arguing was hopeless.

They took the accusation to heart for a moment. "What if the neighbors see our fight and it ruins my reputation and they never take me seriously again?"

"One, they will be too far away from us to recognize you. Two, they won't care. Three, I'm going to be annoying you for the next two months about a snowball fight so if you refuse, they'll judge you for choosing someone as loud and annoying as myself as your boyfriend."

Logan nodded. "Fair enough."

The two exited their house. Logan put his arms around his torso and shivered, the sudden change in temperature shocking his body, but Roman ran ahead. He immediately crouched down to the ground and formed a snowball, aiming directly for Logan’s stomach, and missing by a couple of feet. Logan gave him a disappointed look.

Roman huffed and returned to building a snowball. Logan shivered again, watching the small flecks of white flutter down from the clouds above and land on their suburban neighborhood. Logan was removed from their thoughts when a snowball collided with his stomach.

He stumbled back half a step, but steadied his stance and glared at his boyfriend. Another snowball was thrown his way, but Logan dodged and watched it disperse against the door.

“You might want to join me in the yard, Specs, if you don’t want me to break a window.”

Logan followed his suggestion, running to the front yard and immediately forming a snowball. They threw it at their unsuspecting boyfriend who was in the process of making another snowball. It hit him square in the chest, making him fall backwards.

“Oh, you’re in for it, mi luz.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “You’ve hit me twice, I’ve hit you once. I’m hardly the-”

A snowball to the lungs effectively shut them up.

---

Roman and Logan were hiding behind their respective walls of snow. Throughout the fight, they had been creating their own walls to hide behind to avoid getting hit. The fight would continue until either surrender or unconsciousness occurred, and both knew the former would be the hardest to achieve.

Since the two were both overachievers and never half-assed anything, their respective snow walls were two and a half feet high, roughly four inches in thickness, and approximately two feet wide. Roman had drawn an ‘R’ into his for dramatic effect, and Logan had hit the ‘R’ purposely with a snowball twice.

Neither knew how much time had passed, nor could they sense just how cold they were. All they could think about was demolishing their beloved in a violent war of snow, where only one could be crowned victor.

They were so unfocused that they didn’t notice a door opening and closing. Their eyes were so zeroed in on each other that Logan couldn’t see anything but his weapon and his target.

Logan knew the second the snowball left his hands that he would not land the shot. They were off by at least a couple of feet. They paid it no mind, however, and focused on evading Roman’s next attack.

The snowball landed with an audible smack.

That was unusual; dodged snowballs normally landed soundlessly on the ground.

What was also unusual was the yelp accompanying the sound.

Two shocked heads turned and watched as an unfamiliar man was thrown off his balance from Logan’s ruthlessly packed snowball. He didn’t fall to the ground, no, he was too scary and intimidating for that kind of humiliation to ever befall him. But, he was inconvenienced just enough so that Roman and Logan were terrified for their lives.

Logan hadn’t hit any old neighbor that lived on their block. He had hit the man who lived to their right.

The man who was evil, scary, probably a serial killer; the person that even the adults were scared of. He overdid Halloween, had no friends, and worked at a psychiatric hospital. He could probably kill them if he wanted to. According to the rumors, he had killed for lesser motives.

His eyes locked with both of the men at once, and Logan and Roman had never been more scared in their time together. He was terrifying.

With a black shirt, black jeans, black and purple hair, and a black hoodie, the man next door with tattoos creeping up his neck and black eyeshadow under his eyes looked very much the part the rest of the street had cast him as.

Logan and Roman were truly and undeniably fucked.

When the neighbor stopped glaring at them and walked to his car, Logan and Roman simultaneously craned their necks back to face each other, a terrified look in both of their eyes. Suddenly, all their competitive fire was extinguished and they looked at the snow on the ground with fear and regret instead of devious fun.

Their neighbor got something from his car and returned inside, casting sideways glances at Roman and Logan as he passed them. He slammed his door shut, causing both men to flinch.

From day one, the couple had been warned by kindergarteners and middle-aged women alike that they were unfortunate to be neighbors with the man next door. It was today that this was proven. All they could do was wait for their demise.

Roman threw a snowball at Logan’s face in anger at his actions and bad aim. For the first time in this fight, he wished he had been hit by that snowball.

There was a four minute period where the two were internally debating their options of either going back inside or apologizing to their fearsome neighbor. Occasionally, they would make eye contact with each other, but no words were actually spoken. Roman, the extrovert, considered knocking on his door to make a quick and hasty apology while Logan, the introvert, thought about writing an apology letter and sliding it under his door.

Neither of their ideas needed to be put to action, however, since the neighbor exited his house once again.

The two resisted the overwhelming urge to cower in fear. They had never seen him before, and now they had seen him twice in less than ten minutes? Clearly, they had ticked him off.

In an effort to not make it look as though they were staring, Logan and Roman stuck their gazes on each other. Each could tell that their partner was resisting their instincts telling them to run as far away as they could as fast as possible. But they couldn’t be rude—not when that man lived right next to them and could approach their house at any time. The serial killer rumors suddenly seemed more plausible.

What greeted them (or rather, Logan) instead, was a snowball to the back.

Logan, who was tenser than a taut rope, stumbled from the harsh impact. When he was able to regain his stance, his head whipped around to look at his attacker.

The neighbor had on, of all things, a smile.

He had discarded his hoodie for a fluffy black sweater with purple bats on it. He was now in a black beanie and had on midnight blue gloves. While his winter attire was surprising considering he already had a hoodie and didn’t seem to leave his house much, the mischievous smile was the most perplexing of all new things about their neighbor. Neither Logan nor Roman could make sense of it, except that it let them see the infamously creepy stranger in a new light.

Logan huffed out a bemused laugh, staring at the neighbor (who looked to be similar in age to them) like he was a gripping plot twist in a novel that unexpectedly ended happily. He shook his head a bit, but crouched down and formed another snowball. He made sure not to throw it as hard as the first one he had thrown at the stranger.

The man dodged it with ease, running closer to the snow-covered couple’s house. He swiped some snow off the porch rail and quickly packed it before throwing it at Roman, who was too busy being bewildered to do anything to dodge. He gasped in offense and coughed when the snowball collided with his sternum, and directed a playful glare at his attacker. He threw a snowball at him in return.

The neighbor easily dodged that one, but wasn’t able to dodge the snowball Logan had thrown his way. His attention switched over to the bespectacled assailant, looking at them just in time to see him throw another snowball at his boyfriend.

“How the hell did you make a snowball that quickly, cariño?”

“I have a snow wall, Ro. What do you think I put behind it? Action figures?” Logan retorted sarcastically.

Roman rolled his eyes and formed another snowball, sending it through the air and smack into Logan’s wall. “Every man for himself!”

The neighbor laughed at that, and the snowball fight continued.

---

As it turned out, Logan and Roman were at a disadvantage from already being out in the snow before their neighbor joined in. He was able to make them both surrender eventually, but not before Roman had aimed a snowball at a precise place on the back of his neck where the snow fell down the back of his shirt.

Logan was the wiser out of the couple and had surrendered first (not without a fight, though). He figured he deserved it; he had been the one to disturb the stranger, after all. This made him able to watch as both Roman and the stranger started to shiver more and more as the fight had continued.

When Roman finally did surrender, Logan laughed in his face and then put an arm around him. Logan took one hand in his and was able to tell his fingers were numb.

“You just never know when to quit, do you?” they sighed fondly.

“I did eventually!” protested Roman indignantly.

The stranger chuckled from beside him. “Would’ve been easier for your poor body if you’d surrendered when you knew you were gonna lose.”

It was the first time they’d heard him speak; snowball fights weren’t exactly the best place to start a conversation. His voice was low, about as deep as expected from a scary man in all black. However, it didn’t hold any fearful qualities or scratchiness like the kids had described. The couple thought it sounded like coffee on a cool winter’s morning (which didn’t make sense since coffee wasn’t a sound, but it was all that they could use to describe it, nonetheless).

“And when would that have been?”

“The second I joined in.”

Logan hid a laugh behind their hand. Roman glared at him for encouraging their neighbor.

“No idiot surrenders the second another person joins,” Roman muttered.

“Exactly,” the man said with a wink. Logan was able to spot him curling his arms around himself, probably from being cold.

Roman gasped loudly when he finally realized what the stranger was saying. “How dare you!”

He stumbled out of Logan’s arms and collected more snow off the porch railing, making it into a large, messy ball and chucking it at the stranger.

It hit his face. Not hard in any shape or form; no harm would be done, but it was still a bunch of cold water shoved in his face and falling into the front of his sweater.

The stranger furiously batted at the snow on his face.

“Serves you right,” Roman mumbled.

Logan rolled his eyes. “Sorry, that must’ve been freezing.”

The man nodded.

“Come on in,” Logan invited, opening the door. “We can make you some hot chocolate.”

Roman rushed inside, running to the storage closet that had extra blankets.

“A-are you s-su-re?” the stranger said, syllables separate and repetitive from his shivering. The snow in his face caused his teeth to chatter.

“Of course,” Logan said, “it’s our—well, mostly my fault, that you got cold anyway. I’m Logan. He/they pronouns.”

Virgil chuckled. “L-log-an, h-uh? Was st-st-starting to thi-nk y-you were j-just gi-v-ven a b-bunch of p-pet names at b-birth.”

Logan blushed furiously, but laughed. Roman referred to him with Spanish terms of endearment more than he did his legal name.

“At this point, I might as well have been. I tend to respond to any unfamiliar word that vaguely sounds like Spanish now.”

They ushered the freezing stranger inside. Roman had returned from the storage closet with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and another under his arm. Logan took the blanket that wasn’t shrouding his shivering boyfriend and wrapped it around the stranger’s shoulders, who tugged it tighter around himself eagerly.

Logan went to the kitchen, putting three mugs of milk into the microwave and setting it for two minutes. They then returned to Roman and their neighbor who were shivering in silence.

“Thanks for joining us,” Roman said, “that was fun.”

“It was,” he agreed, shivering starting to calm down. “T-thank you for letting me p-participate.” Not fully, however.

“Of course,” said Logan, putting an arm on Roman’s shoulders. “I totally meant that snowball as an invitation. Fully intentional.”

The other two laughed, knowing that was a lie. The microwave beeped, and Logan left them to take the mugs from the microwave. He put the hot cocoa powder in and stirred the mugs, before picking them up.

He entered the living room to see that Roman had sat on the left of the couch and the stranger in the middle. Logan put their mugs in front of them and put down a mug for themself. He sat down next to the stranger.

“Might I ask your name, oh Master of the Snowball?” Roman asked.

The stranger snorted. “That’s much better than my name. My name’s Virgil. He/him.”

Logan smiled to himself. “Not at all, that’s a very nice name.”

Virgil choked on the hot chocolate he was sipping. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

“Fits your aesthetic,” Roman remarked.

Virgil opened his mouth, looking offended. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

It was obviously a joke, but Logan and Roman knew they had to tell Virgil of the rumors and his reputation. Especially now that they saw him as a good guy.

“Halloween,” Roman started to list, “everyday-is-spooky-season aesthetic, seems like the type of guy to work at a haunted house.”

Virgil scoffed. “Those places are stupid; not scary at all. If you want to go to a haunted house, make your house the haunted house.”

Well, now they had the Virgil-goes-to-a-haunted-house-weekly theory debunked.

“You do have ghosts on your sweater,” Logan supplied, taking a sip of the hot chocolate.

“They’re cute ghosts, though,” Roman said as soon as Virgil opened his mouth to argue. He pointed at one on his sweater. “See? Look at the lil’ faces.”

“My sister got it for me for Christmas.”

“If I knew your sister, that would probably explain the cute faces.”

“Oh, believe me, it would.”

Logan chuckled as he watched the two exchange conversation. He took another sip of his hot chocolate.

“So, um, I heard moving trucks outside your house about a month ago. Was that y’all? You new here?” asked Virgil.

“Affirmative,” Logan confirmed.

“Yeah, it’s our very first house together!” Roman said happily.

Virgil smiled. “That’s sickeningly adorable.”

“I am sickeningly adorable,” Roman said like it was a badge of honor.

“I agree,” Logan said.

A comfortable silence befell the group.

Virgil fidgeted, looking at Roman nervously. “Bit awkward question this far into the conversation, but I never caught your name-”

“Roman~” sang the man in question. He would have held the note out for an impressively long time if he didn’t take a sip of hot cocoa.

“Cool,” said Virgil awkwardly. “And I suppose, Roman and Logan, oh wow y’all’s names rhyme that is so romantic, anyway-”

Roman gasped, covering his mouth. His eyes lit up. “They do!”

“Are you just noticing this, Roman?” asked Logan.

“Of course!” Roman exclaimed in reply. “If I knew our names rhymed, I would have already written many a rhyming poem about our love.”

“That’s very nice, Love.”

“Don’t be snippy, mi cielo, you know you’d love it,” Roman huffed. “Virgil, don’t you think he’d love it?”

Virgil just rolled his eyes fondly, not wanting to get caught up in the middle of a lover’s spat.

“Don’t bring Virgil into this, Roman. You should put the subject aside, considering he was in the middle of saying something before you interrupted.”

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask. Did our neighbors happen to...um...tell you what they thought of me? Ruin first impressions? It would explain your terrified expressions when we first saw each other.”

Roman and Logan looked at each other worriedly.

“...Maybe?” Roman asked quietly.

“There’s a small possibility...” Logan whispered.

“Y’all, I’m not mad if it happened, I just wanna know.”

Logan sighed. “Yes, yes they did.”

“What’d they say?”

“Multiple people said different things,” Logan began. “Janet talked to us first. She’s the blonde, short-haired, blue-eyed-”

“-Used to be a soccer mom, baby blue house?” Virgil asked. Logan nodded. “Met her when I first moved in, and once after that.”

“Her, yes. She told us, quite frankly, to not come near you.”

Virgil started to close in on himself. “Like how?”

“Said you were creepy, rude, introverted, no friends, freaky-as-all-hell Halloween decorations, apparently knew where you worked,” Roman told him, then noticed Virgil’s shrinking and stopped with the accusations. “I doubt almost all of that now, since you’re obviously not creepy and definitely have friends with that personality, but she may have been accurate with Halloween decor.”

“She was,” Virgil confirmed. “Go big or go home.”

“I believe you are normally home during Halloween, are you not?” asked Logan, confused.

Roman laughed. “Of course, mi amor.”

“Where do I work, in Janet terms?” asked Virgil, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Some old psychiatric hospital out of town.”

Virgil doubled over in laughter. He put his mug on the coffee table so it wouldn’t spill and held his head in his hands.

When he regained himself, still giggling, he replied.

“That’s inaccurate,” Virgil said plainly. “I don’t have a degree for that. See, there’s an old abandoned psychiatric hospital two miles away from the airport that is on the same road as the airport. It’s out of use, so that’s a stupid assumption to make. I guess I could maybe see why she made it though; I work at the airport.”

“Oh?” asked Logan, intrigued.

“Yeah, I’m an air traffic controller,” said Virgil with a shrug. “It ain’t that interesting. I recently got fully certified, though, which is cool. It pays well, I’m good at paying constant attention to things that could potentially end badly, and the high-stress comes from having to give my unwavering and full attention, which is something I can do well.”

“Less stressful than home and college, I guess, huh?” Roman guessed.

“Exactly, it's a spa compared to my parents,” Virgil said with a laugh. “But yeah, that’s hysterical. I definitely do not work at a psychiatric hospital.”

“I suppose what the kids said is untrue if what the adults said is false,” Logan mused.

“Oh dear lord, what did they say,” Virgil groaned.

“One girl told us about the rumor that you killed the people who used to live here,” Roman said, and Virgil immediately laughed. “Her mother said she asked for a cup of sugar and you gave her a cup of salt instead.”

“I hadn’t slept in five days and realized my mistake two hours later,” Virgil explained immediately. “I remember that one.”

Logan snorted. “One boy said you go to the haunted house on Fridays, which is obviously untrue.”

“Yeah. One, they’re stupid, two, that one’s only open in October and November, three, that one ain’t even scary. It has a good and free parking lot, though, and I volunteer at an at-risk youth center every Friday a couple blocks down that has really shitty parking.”

Roman shook his head. “Wow, we really got you wrong.”

“You were misled,” Virgil corrected. “It’s not your fault.”

“You know what, you’re right!” Roman agreed. “We were robbed.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Of what?”

“Of friendship,” Logan said, taking a sip from his drink. “Roman would have been banging on your door two days after moving, wanting to get to know you. But, after a momentous amount of ‘rude’ and ‘disagreeable’—” Virgil frowned, “—he was persuaded not to. Our loss, especially considering you are neither of those two adjectives.”

Virgil smiled. “Thank you.”

Logan looked into Virgil’s chestnut brown eyes, and was able to spot the specks of gray in them. They gave Virgil a warm smile. “For what? It is our pleasure to be given the chance to know you.”

Roman groaned. “I try 24/7 to be dramatic and you do it without trying.”

Virgil, blushing, giggled. “You’re both good at it.”

Roman beamed at him. “I’m thrilled you think so, Nico di Angel-o.”

“Nico’s surname can be interpreted to mean ‘of the angels’ already, Roman, I don’t think you need to emphas-”

“Shhhh, Specs, let me shower our guest with compliments.”

Virgil’s face was on fire. “Do y’all have any movies?”

~

Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account @justanotherhumanstuff @fander-fic-recs @neo-neo-neo

~

I wrote most of that when I went into a blur for three hours and looked at the time after I finished the draft to see that I had wasted all the time I had to do homework. It was worth it. I don’t know why but I’m really attached to this AU? If you want to see more of it please tell me. I hope you liked it!

[sorryimanon]

Character: Katsuki Bakugou

Parings: Bakugou x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, characters are in their third year.

Word Count: 5.4K

The two honor students of UA so happen to be childhood enemies. During the succession that is exams, Y/N is determined to beat Bakugou.

-

Exam season has commenced on the campus of U.A. Students woke up in a frenzied state, slightly nervous to the late night studying they’ll endure for the weeks to come. Not enough caffeine can energize them to be in complete motivation mode. A couple of students have taken the leisure of paying those to exchange notes, considering most of the questions will be going over every little detail in each subject. The exams don’t begin till next week, but a few of the honor students have already hit the books, not once indulging in a break or two till the sun sets. One of those students just so happen to be you, an inspiring young hero with the hunger for being on top of everything. Ever since middle school, teachers would constantly praise you on your performance during tests. It was no surprise to anyone when you aced the entrance exam to U.A, a remarkable score leading you closer to reaching your dream. Although your scores on every test was superb, someone else would occasionally steal the spotlight with by topping your score. That person in particular has been tailing behind you ever since middle school, another honor student who also attends U.A as well. Did you mention he also is in the same hero course as you?

Katsuki Bakugou is his name. A name that burns the tip of your tongue whenever you gave roll call alongside Iida. The man is a ball of pure fury. He exuded nothing but anger and hostility whenever he’s in a room. Despite his aggressive exterior, Katsuki is an avid academic student who manages to score excellent grades in each of his classes. For the past 3 years of attending U.A, you two are considered the star studded scholars, never once failing a test, midterm, pop quiz , you name it! Now with your hero course almost coming to an end, you were determined to at least score the highest result this exam season, leaving Bakugou in the dust with his inadequate score. Maybe have him crying in the corner would suffice the drawn out rivalry you two established. No one verbally said it was an all out war between you two, but everytime those test results are posted on the board, everyone steered clear for the both of you to silently react. Everyone awaits for the day when one of you finally snaps and start clawing at each other. But alas, only the mere exchange of a side eye and a curt nod. Deep down you do want to slap the smirk that always resides on his face during those moments, showing him you weren’t just going to let him win by smarts.

That’s why now you sit alone on the cushioned couch in the commons area, books sprawled around you like a protective barrier. You had your eyes glued to a textbook about the history of quirks and their physiology, a class in which you needed to spend studying the most for. It’s been a a few hours into your little study session, and you were beginning to feel the drag of how much you needed to actually work on. All this including your current homework and your mandatory internship studies at an agency. It was all too much to handle. So, maybe you do deserve a break.

Pushing the book aside, you stretched out your cramped up arms and sigh in relief. In the corner of your eye you spot a familiar head of ashy blonde walking into the commons room, books and notebooks crammed into his armpit while holding what seems to be an energy drink. Your eye twitched watching him plop down onto the couch across from you, never once paying attention to your presence. Katsuki then rests his bare feet on the wooden coffee table, opening one of his textbooks with the swipe of his thump. For some odd reason, this really riled you up. And it was clear Katsuki noticed too.

“Am I bothering you? Hm?” He smugly asked, eyes not wavering from the text before him.

You scoffed.

“No. Just, don’t speak while I’m trying to study okay?”

He clicked his tongue at you.

“Doesn’t seem like you’re studying to me. Looks like you’ve given up already. What gives?”

His comment made you even angrier.

“Given up? Kacchan, you’ve barely started.”

Looking up, you can see a faint vein forming against the temple of his forehead. His fists clenched tightly, crumpling the sides of the textbook. His eyes now were averted to yours. The crimson death glare, you’d call it.

“I was training with Kirishima, dumbass. So of course I couldn’t hop onto my studies earlier,” he started. Katsuki opens his energy drink with one finger, the pop of the air leaving the can satisfying to your ears, and took a swing of it. “Also, don’t ever fucking call me that. If I hear it from your mouth again I won’t hesitate to use my quirk on you.”

An intriguing idea. Usually you’d be the one to threaten your enemy, but Katsuki like always beat you to the punch.

“No thanks, I’d rather be harassed by grape juice than be blasted from the likes of you,” the taunt in your voice triggered something within Katsuki, causing him to tense up in pure anger. “Besides, I’m planning on studying all day till my eyes fall out. So don’t expect me to leave this spot.”

His smirk was soon on full display, uncrossing his legs to lean forward so he can rest his elbow on his knee.

“Oh really? Just so you know we have an early training tomorrow in preparation for our final exam. Wouldn’t want ya to, cha know, fail?” He didn’t even sound slightly concern for yourself and your future study habits, you can tell he wishes for you to fuck up your sleeping schedule to miss the important training in the morning.

“I have an alarm set on my phone so I don’t miss my beauty rest. Wouldn’t want to pass up the opportunity of kicking your ass tomorrow,” you held your mobile device triumphantly, waving it back and forth to mock him.

With the roll of his eyes, Katsuki returned back to his studies, leaving you to sadly resume as well. Before he entered the commons area, you were about to head into your dorm room to take a nap, but now you were obligated to stay put without letting him think you’re already burnt out.

Silently, you both continued on with the unspoken competition.

-

Evening struck quicker than you expected, cascading the soft glow of the painted sky through the windows, illuminating both you Katsuki in a pink hue. Thankfully, Katsuki took your words into consideration and never spoke to you during the session, giving you an easy feeling of relaxation without him making it another competition.

Already you finished your notes for advance foreign language, quirk physiology, and mathematics. So far, you were ahead of everyone else, with the exception of Katsuki. Occasionally, you’d catch yourself glancing over at him working intensively in his small corner, highlighting and jotting down every minuscule detail in his notebook. This was your first time witnessing how Katsuki studies. To your disappointment, his regime was nothing out of the ordinary. Then how the fuck does he manage to score high grades? It simply baffled you.

A stampede of footsteps was to be heard coming from the hallway leading to the commons area. After what seems to be years, you cranked your head away from your notebook to see Kirishima and the rest of the gang marching towards the direction of both you and Katsuki, who was currently shooting daggers at the group of friends. The red head was the first to speak out of the four of them.

“Aye Bakubro! Wanna skip the studying for a little and eat with us at NoodleShop?” His smile gleamed brightly, showcasing his shark incisors.

“Y/N you too! Come join us. I’ll pay!” Mina chimed in.

Noodles sounded pretty appetizing right about now. You skipped out on lunch, too engrossed on the idea of getting a head start for the exams. Now you regret the decision of leaving your stomach on empty.

But you still had so much left to do. And knowing Katsuki’s competitive nature, he wasn’t going to move an inch from his spot.

“It’s okay Mina, I uh- already ate a big meal awhile ago,” you dismissed her, patting your belly to show you were indeed, full.

As if on cue, a loud growl erupted from the depths of your stomach, the noise reverberating across the soundless space. Denki and Sero both snickered.

To your amazement, Katsuki got up from the couch and trailed over to the group, slipping on his red hoodie that was draped on the arm rest. He took a quick glimpse at you and smirked over his shoulder.

“Watch my things for me will ya, extra?” And with that they all left the area as a group.

You huffed in defeat and stared back at your jumbled pile of notes, the writing transcending from neat to sloppy text. At least you don’t have an explosive blonde sharing the same air as you for now. You reached into your bag and grabbed another textbook, this one being more heftier than the others.

“Oh well, more time for studying...” you said to yourself as you skimmed through the pages of Hero First Aid: Volume 6.

-

The beautiful spring sky soon was replaced by the expanse of darkness, the twinkle of the bright stars catching your eyes. The moon alone helped cast a sheen of light, allowing you to work in the dimly lit up space. Bakugou didn’t return to retrieve his stuff, all of which were sat untouched in a hasty mess. You figure him and the rest of the gang would have been back on campus by now, but everyone in class 1-A have locked themselves in their dorms since lights out will commence in a few. Aizawa has yet to prohibit you from staying past the curfew. As long as you don’t go running among the halls like a lunatic and stay strictly to studying, he’s all game. And that’s exactly what you did.

A couple of students murmured as they passed by you, saying things like “Does she ever have a life” or “All she does is study...no wonder no one has asked her out yet”. As much as the comments sting, you knew they weren’t true to your heart. Last year, someone in class 2-B formally asked you to the dance. To their dismay, you rejected them on the spot. Only because you didn’t have time to date or talk romantically with anyone. It’s a distraction to both your education and future career.

Okay, so maybe they were partially correct. At least you had your first kiss before entering U.A? But the person who stole your kiss was obligated to do so, after being dared by their fellow acquaintances. Nothing more beyond that have you explored with another person.

Submerged in your own thoughts, you didn’t notice the presence of the angry blonde, hands stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie as he strolled to the couch that had all his materials. He began to gather his things when suddenly he freezes, remembering what you said about not moving an inch from your spot. He’s astonished to see you cemented on the same couch, in the same position, notes blanketing your thighs along with the pile books pooling at the edge.

You really are determined to beat him, he thought. Bakugou can’t deny he’s impressed with your ambition and drive to be the best among your peers, even if that means sacrificing basic human needs. Like food and sleep.

Although, looking at you right now in this state, with your eyes threatening to close shut, mouth slightly agape, and hair bunched up in a tight knot, it’s clear you were exhausted. He spoke without realizing it.

“Hey dumbass! The fuck you still doing here, huh? It’s almost lights out.”

His brooding voice startled you awake, causing the papers on your lap to spill on the carpeted floor. Bakugou coughed out a low chuckle, amused by how the mere sound of his voice scares you.

“Oh it’s just you,” you said, disregarding how that could easily irritate him.

“Yeah, it’s me. Anyway you should be getting rest. You’re smart enough to know that, idiot.”

Even though it was a subtle backhanded compliment, you couldn’t help but to appreciate him acknowledging your intellect.

“I can’t. I have to go over my flash cards for mathematics and then finish this week’s homework for tomorrow—.”

“Holy fucking shit shut up. Don’t you realize what you’re doing to yourself right now?” When you didn’t answer, Bakugou slapped his forehead. “You’re gonna burn yourself out dumbass! Then you won’t have any motivation left to study for when the exams are actually starting.”

Stunned, you watch as Bakugou stomps over to where you’re sitting at, crimson eyes never leaving yours. He then props his leg on the cushion next to your trembling thighs, out stretching his arm to grab ahold of something. Too focused on the proximity between you two, it didn’t register that he swiped your flash cards from your hands. What is wrong with him? Does he want to sabotage you this badly before exams?

“Bakugou! Give those back! I need them for my exam on Monday!” you ignored how whiny you sounded, not wanting to give Katsuki the satisfaction he thinks he deserves.

“You really think whining like a bitch will make me hand these over? Think again, dumb-.”

You cut him off with a surprise attack, shoving his entire body to the ground with the force of yours. Bakugou’s arms were pinned above him as you tried to pry the flash cards from his death grip on them. Stubbornly, he wiggles his body to keep you from reaching his arms, almost knocking you off his torso like a bull. Looking down, both of you were in a compromising position. Straddling his hips while he laid lifelessly underneath you, panting like a feral dog. You tried to keep the heat from spreading throughout your body as you felt his groin rub against your sex, but failed tremendously when he can obviously see the prominent blush creeping on your cheeks.

“What the fuck was that all about?! Why are you so adamant about beating me so much!” He yelled directly in your face.

A question that neither of you knew the answer to. Why were you so determined to destroy Bakugou? Shouldn’t a fellow honor student be happy that another is also making their education a main priority? Or maybe there is another underlying reason, something deeper under the dermis of your skin that you couldn’t quite reach.

You further the distance away from his face by leaning backwards, eventually hitting the front of his thighs and kneecaps.

“You don’t understand. I have to be good at everything. I need this in order to be the hero I’ve been wanting to be. Even if that means neglecting my own needs...” you paused, unsure if Bakugou was even listening anymore. “That is, until you came along and ruined everything.”

“Hah?!” His reaction was incredulous.

“Don’t “Hah” me! It’s been your plan all along since middle school to top me at everything. So why me?!”

“Well maybe it’s because I’ve always looked up to you dumbass! Have you ever considered that!”

The words tumbled out of his throat as if he’s been holding off on the sentiment. Bakugou Katsuki, the abrasive yet studious boy, just so happens to admire you? Never it occurred to you that maybe, just maybe, you also strived to be the absolute best solely because of him. The way he strides into a battle with confidence, not an ounce of doubt that he’ll lose. His diabolical strategies that somehow works out in the end. Or the way how underneath that rough exterior, he believes he’ll be the one left climbing to the top, along with his peers. It’s his sticky pride that kept the rivalry between you two so alive. But was it really a rivalry after all this time?

Eyes widen at the confession, you stay frozen on his lap, fingers bunching up the top half of his hoodie. The silence broke Katsuki. For once, he wanted you to at least admit it, that you were also in the same boat as he is right now. So, he hesitantly reaches out and rests his palm against your flushed face, basking in at your sudden reaction to him touching you.

“Why does everything have to be a competition between us?” His soft spoken voice was uncharacteristic for him, you were so used to his gravelly tone after years of being the victim to it.

You felt the traces of his warm finger tips tickling lines on your outer cheek, as if he’s done this before.

“Isn’t that our dynamic? Competitive enemies?” The comment made him quirk an eyebrow at you.

“Enemies? You were never one in my eyes in the first place...” He trailed off, getting distracted by how close you’ve gotten to his face. To his lips.

“Then, what am I to you?” you leaned in closer, hoping to catch a glimpse of something in his eyes. You took notice that his pupils were dilated, making his eyes darker than usual. The hand rubbing lines on your cheek snaked around behind your head, taking full comfort on the base of your neck. The feeling was quite foreign to you. How long you yearned till days on end for someone to touch you tenderly like this. Especially from someone like Katsuki Bakugou.

“Does this answer your question.” Was all he said before smashing his lips to mount yours, the sudden contact making you shiver in his arms.

You felt him breathe out in surprise against your mouth when you took the initiative by swiping your tongue on his bottom lip. The kiss was exquisitely slow and intense. So intense that Bakugou forgot where he even was at the moment, too engulfed at the texture of your tongue asking for entrance. The fingers digging into the back of your neck started to hurt, but you didn’t mind the pain, the pleasure overwhelming all your senses. You can hear the harsh undertones of his breathing every time you slightly moved the lower half of your body.

“Stop moving, idiot,” he said breathlessly.

He knew he was fucked by seeing the smirk forming on your lips.

“Oh, you mean like this?” You then grind your hips in a harsh motion, relishing in the bashful look on Katsuki’s face.

He let his hands go freely, attaching themselves on both sides of your hips, grounding you to stop altogether. He sat in an upright position, encasing you between his legs and hard chest, your legs wrapping around his torso. Any other time it’d be comforting, but right now you felt like a bird trapped in a cage.

“Who knew the good girl would be so disobedient? Kind of hot not gonna lie.” He bent his head to where it was directly hovering over the sensitive spot on your collarbone. “Even when we’re just making out, you have to make everything a goddamn competition huh?”

A gasp left your throat once his tongue licked a clean strip on the surface. He chuckled, loving the feeling of you squirming in his muscular arms and continued the attack on your skin. His feather-like kisses switched to full on feverish sucking and biting. He proceeded to suck on the area, letting go with a definite ‘pop’, then returned back by making out on the bruised skin.

The combination of his tongue, the death grip on your hip, and the bulge protruding from his loose sweatpants was too much stimulation already. Before you knew it, Katsuki abruptly stood up from the floor, along with you, and placed you back on the plush couch. Your legs were wide open, giving him a good view of your white panties beneath the school skirt. You clamped your legs together after seeing the blonde lick his lips at the sight.

“D-Don’t be such a pervert,” you squeaked out.

That didn’t stop him from slipping his hand in between the crack of your legs, spreading them wider than before.

“Stop lying to yourself. You’ve imagined me between these thighs haven’t you?” The silence following his question was enough to suffice him. “Such a naughty girl.” Those crimson eyes stared straight ahead as he tugged your panties down a notch.

Here?! Right now? Why couldn’t he reside both of you in his dorm? It was literally at the end of the hallway. Plus, the thought of your teacher, Aizawa, catching you would be mortifying.

Your hand quickly latched itself around Katsuki’s forearm, halting him from proceeding his lustrous actions.

“What are you doing?! We could get caught you idiot!”

Katsuki grins and says, “You’re right. We need to find a way to shut you up.” Without preamble, he practically ripped the thin panties with sheer ferocity, causing you to yelp. You were about to scold him for ruining your favorite pair when said panties got shoved into your open mouth. “Remember, don’t want to get us caught right? Now be the good girl like you are and stay quiet for me.” Obediently you nodded at his order and prayed that whatever he’s going to do to you won’t be too much.

Katsuki hummed, obviously pleased at how well you’re going along with this. He wonders how far you’ll go till you break. With the swipe of his tongue, Katsuki dragged it up and down on the opening of your drenched sex. You mewled at the new sensation, legs already trembling as he his own salvia covered your folds. He bit and nibbled on the sweet spot, the clit, and lapped a few lazy strokes with his pointer finger in circular motions. Before you could stop him, he inserted the lubricant finger into your hole slowly, pumping it a couple of times to get you loosened up. Muffled moans perked up the ears of Katsuki. Looking up, he saw the beautiful sight of your eyes rolled behind your head along with the familiar tint of red on your cheeks. Just like the secretive slut you truly are, you swayed your hips to create more friction. Katsuki acknowledged your needy movements and dipped his head between your legs again, returning back to kissing your sex open mouthed. The lewd noises of him sucking on your wetness elicited a long drawn out moan from you, making Katsuki’s own cock twitch at the glorious sound.

“You’re so fucking cute like this. Almost coming from just my tongue and fingers. Fucking slut,” he said between suctions. “God, what were we thinking...we could’ve just resolved our issues like this every time.”

You grabbed a handful of his spiked up hair and raised his head away from your lower region. While doing so, you spit out the soaked clothed panty from your mouth, letting it drift off to the floor.

“Just s-shut up and do something about m-me,” you manage to croak out. You flicked your eyes on Katsuki and to the hand buried inside your skirt.

“Ah, want more than just my fingers? Could’ve just said so. Why are you being so quiet with your needy demands, babe?”

This newfound nickname plucked a heart sting within you. You shook off his snarky comment and stood up from the couch. If it’s a competition he wants, then it’s a competition he’ll get.

“Take off your pants and sit on the couch.”

Craning his head back, his own roar of a laughter bounced across the quiet room. Laughter dying down, his expression changed seeing how serious you actually were.

“Tch. Whatever you say dumbass. Don’t want you to explode on me now.”

He did as you said and removed the article of clothing, leaving him in nothing but his red boxer briefs. The bulge grew bigger the longer you stared at it. He laid back on the plush cushion and rested his arms behind his head.

“Alright, I’m waiting Y/N,” he taunted you.

One by one, you unbutton your school uniform and let it fall off your shoulders, along with your plaid skirt pooling at your ankles. Arms crossed on your chest you tower over Katsuki, who was surprisingly not staring at your goods, but your eyes. Beckoning you forward with his glare, you straddle him immediately, hands resting on his broad shoulders.

My, all these years of being in the same class and never once did you take advantage of appreciating how chiseled he looked in his hero costume. Sometimes you’d glance his way or pretend to be busy, but really, you wanted to see him in action. The way how his muscles would contract with each swing or punch. It was enough to make a girl swoon. Now you were swooning for sure. On his lap to be precise.

“Oi, you gonna do something nerd? My cock isn’t going to finish off itself.” His voice snapped you back to reality.

It took a few minutes, but you were finally hovering over the tip of his throbbing member, the glistening of his pre-cum coating your fingers. You teased him by rubbing just the tip against your entrance, lubricating the member even more. He tried to muffle his whines, but failed tremendously after feeling his tip graze your sex. Both of you were heavily now, anticipation radiating off of your sweaty bodies. Tenderly, you kissed him open mouth while sheathing yourself on his cock.

“Holy shit, holy fuck fuck fuck,” the vulgar words spilled from his mouth against yours as you bottomed out. You stayed in that position. Still unsure what to do and what you got yourself into. Pretty sure you’re torturing Katsuki by the minute.

“F-Fucking move," He growled in your ear.

Leaning in closer you whisper, “You have to beg for it then.” You nibbled the loose skin on the bottom of his ear and tugged it gently.

“Hell no! God-fucking-damnit don’t make this a competition right now Y/N.” The palm of his abnormally large hand pushed your face away from his. You giggled.

“C’mon Bakugou, there’s no harm in it. Just say please?”

“Fuck you shitty woman...”

“That’s not begging,” you pouted.

He pursed his lips. Bakugou admittedly is getting more turned on by the minute, and not just because you were practically inside him.

“P-Please fucking move. I w-want you to fuck me so bad you have no idea. Please Y/N...”

Smiling, you raised your hips to where the veins on the side of his member scraped the walls within you. It made your cunt twitch in pure ecstasy. Slowly, you lowered yourself back down, only this time you weren’t stagnant. You repeated the same vertical movements, clashing your hips with his. Bakugou titled his head back on the couch, degrading sentiments leaving his mouth as his hands grasped the sweaty flesh of your ass, squeezing it harshly every time you bounced on his dick. The tip of his member taking your breath away as it prodded the spongy walls.

“Yes- oh fuck yes. Ngh, keep doing that. Yeah like that. Hah-fuck, don’t stop,” he said between the constant panting.

Due to your rapid bouncing, your boobs were flailing in the air, occasionally hitting Bakugou in the face. Katsuki took matters into his own hands and latched his mouth around one of your perked nipples. You squealed at the sudden sensation.

“B-Bakugou...don’t do that...it’ll make me come faster,” you moaned as he grazed his teeth on your taut nipple.

For revenge, he tugged back the areola till it reached a few centimeters from your chest. Painful yes, but you couldn’t deny it felt amazing. He quickly let go and returned to sucking on the tit, lathering it up with his own spit. All the while you were riding him till the muscles and tendons in your legs gave out. Steadying your hands on his shoulders, you grounded on your knees to give yourself a better leverage. Feeling touch starved, Bakugou shoved your hands from his shoulders and laced his fingers between them. Like a missing puzzle piece, you fit in perfectly with him. Everything about you was perfection. You defined it. Sitting here watching as you take him well, physically or not, he was completely enamored by the mere sight of you. He craned his head to brush just the tip of your nose. A nose he unmistakably mentally captured because he loved the feature so much.

Although, he couldn’t think straight after that once you bottomed out again and rolled your hips in tune to his panting. You made a mess out of the aggressive blonde. Each time you swayed your body to the side he’d grunt out a low moan, trying to contain his usual loud profanities from waking up your classmates. Bakugou reached down and teasingly rubbed the sensitive bud, getting revenge for all the times you’ve pissed him off. Under your breath, you moaned out his last name.

“Say my name,” he grunted, hands continuing to expertly work on you from below.

Confused, you obeyed and moaned, “Bakugou!”

Suddenly, a painful sting sparked throughout your lower back. Eyes glued shut due to the searing pain, you whimper feeling a calloused hand smooth over the spot on your ass.

Katsuki spanked you. And you liked it.

“My actual name, dumbass. I wanna hear it coming from your mouth.”

With a thrust, you continue moving up and down on his cock, never once missing a beat.

“K-...Katsuki. Katsuki-Katsuki...” his name sounded ethereal, as if he was a higher being.

Katsuki returned the favor and fisted your hair in a tight knot, your scalp screaming at how harsh he was pulling.

“That’s a good girl.”

With a playful slap to your behind, Katsuki roughly shoves you to mount his lips again. Lips parted, both of your tongues twisted against each other, sharing a decent amount of saliva. He slipped out and pecked your lips a few times before biting down on your bottom lip. It didn’t hurt like all the times he inflicted pain on you previously. But this time you swore you felt the trickle of blood trailing down to your chin. The coppery taste infiltrating your taste buds only increased your arousal. What a masochist.

Bakugou noticed the pacing of your movements decreasing, indicating you are already feeling worn out, and steadied his hands onto your hips.

“Just let me do the work here, dumbass,” he said as he thrusted sharply into your womb, causing you to whimper into his neck. “I’ll take good care of you. You deserve a break from studying after all.”

-

You woke up feeling dizzy and fatigued, body aching from your toes to your head. From what you can remember, you were in the middle of studying when...

Katsuki happened.

Then you realized you weren’t in the commons area anymore. Somehow, you were laying in a medium sized bed, covers strewn over your naked body, along with a muscular arm draped across your torso. To your side you can see a passed out Katsuki snoring quietly into his pillow. Even when he’s asleep, he still looks angry.

Jolting upright, you carefully pry his arm from your body. No prevail. He’s got a strong hold on you.

He shuffled in his sleep and tightened his grip around you.

“Mmm...not leaving...stay a little longer,” he mumbled.

You rolled your eyes. “We both can’t walk out of your dorm in the morning. People will get suspicious of us. Not to mention Aizawa,” you retorted back.

“Oh? Don’t like the idea of ‘us’ huh? That’s not what you said last night.”

You didn’t need to look to know he was wearing his infamous shit eating smirk.

“Shut up.”

For the first time you heard Katsuki genuinely laugh without forcing it. You looked over and saw his eyes wide open now, staring at nothing but you.

“Whatever, you love me Y/N.”

“I DO NOT!”

Grabbing your face with his rough hands, he pressed a tender kiss to your lips.

“Go to fucking sleep nerd, we have a pre-exam in a few hours.”

-

(You can obviously tell I got lazy at the end LMFAO. This has been in my drafts for a LONG time. Also, this isn’t edited so please excuse the horrendous text that is this post. Xoxo)

[binniesthighs]

i loveeee your first write abt Jisung omgggg he is like one of my BIGGEST bias wrecker of all time so i was like WOAH THERE,,,, and i was so hooked on your writings i wanna see more 👀 if you have free time can i please ask for a Jeonghan smut where he is your rival in everything let's say at school and u didn't actually like him at first but he kinda flirts and idk I'm just so into Jeonghan's cocky behavior these daysss he's making me feel thiiiiiiingsssss 😩❤️

ahh thank you anon you are so so sweet! ♡ I’m so happy that you liked my Jisung stuff! I love writing for that boy hehe and thank you so much for requesting love!! this is my first seventeen ask I’m so so excited to write more of them in the future! my brain really took this one and rannnn with it, it ended up a bit harder than I intended, I hope that’s okay and I hope that you enjoy it!

what i want most |reader x jeonghan |

Pairing: self insert, gender neutral reader x yoon jeonghan

Genre: lil bit of smut, lil bit of angst

Tags: harddom!jeonghan, bratty!reader, enemies (competitors) to lovers, college au, jeonghan being our fave cocky boy, bestfriend!seungcheol, mentions of school work, slow-ish burn, masturbation (reader), use of degrading names, dumification, hook-up, choking, marking, spanking, facefucking, gagging, use of safe symbols, nipple play, overstimulation, unprotected sex, creampie, slight exhibitionism, semi-public sex, sex in a study room

Word count: 4k

Someone told you once long ago that hate is a strong word. Apparently, they had never experienced loathing before. To you, hate always seemed to be something playful, something a little teasing. When your best friends would mock you for the most insignificant things, you would say “cut that shit out. You know that I hate you right?”

Loathing is much more fun. Loathing holds more of an edge. Loathing keeps you up at night, and lingers in your mind. Loathing digs into your skin like a papercut, coming back to sting later when you stretch your skin. Loathing made you feel all twisted up inside. This one super-massive emotion is one that clings to you and makes you jealous and irritable, and the best of all, competitive.

You don’t know what you would be without loathing...if not for him.

But as much as you loathed him, he was the perfect elixir of sugar-coated poison.  

He kept you up at night. He lingered in your mind.

Everything about you, he had to do too. You didn’t know at this point if it was some kind of joke, or that the two of you had miraculously been crafted to be just that similar.

Since the day that you had met him three years ago in undergrad, there wasn’t one class that the two of you didn’t share. Every single job that you applied to, he would apply to as well. Each professor that you would introduce yourself to, the next day he would be cozied up next to them talking about some kind of bullshit and pretended to care about their personal lives. He even chose the exact same grad program as you.

When the two of you graduated, it was him who sucked in his lip, never breaking with your eyes when he received higher honors than you. He probably loathed you too.

That would keep you up at night too.

There were other things about him as well that would creep into the corners of your sleep deprived brain. You would stare into the darkness of your room, eyes glued to the ceiling with your mind exploring shameless answers.

During these dark nights, your hand would absentmindedly cascade down your body, snaking your fingers down the soft of your skin. Behind your eyes, it was him sending shivers down your body. It was his lithe fingers, not yours, that would reach down to your aching sex to pleasure you into all the fantasies that only remained within the confines of your own mind. Before you would climax, it was his name that you whispered out into the air, not even knowing that you did.

“Jeonghan.”

•·················•·················•

“Are you going to finish that, or what?”

Seungcheol rummaged around your bag of chips that were barely touched.

Your highlighter skimmed over your page, you twisted the writing utensils around in your hand to scratch down a note with your pen. Truthfully, you hadn’t heard him.

“...I mean, if you don’t, I will. Can’t let stuff like this go to waste.” He held the bag in his lap, happily crunching away and tapping his foot a little.

“--Can you chew quieter?”

“...Me?”

“Yes, you.” You bopped him softly on top of his wavy caramel hair with your marked up article.

Seungcheol cringed and rubbed the top of his head as if you had hit him with something much denser than a stack of paper.

“In my defense, there isn’t really a quiet way to eat chips.” He popped another one in. “Are you gonna be done soon? It’s too...still out here.”

“You’re the one that suggested coming here!”

His puppy-like face turned combative. “I did!...only because I think it’s pretty though.” Your friend shied away, trying to uphold his promise of “chewing quieter,” and subsequently failing.

He wasn’t wrong however, the courtyard in the middle of the library was very pretty, and you had been glad that he had suggested the two of you take lunch there. Inside the square shaped yard, a few trees had been planted with low swaying branches of little oval shaped leaves. There were hedges and a myriad of flowering plants with petals that were pink or yellow or purple. Somehow the little square was untouched by sound, save for a couple songbirds. Had you not a copious amount of work to take care of, you would have admired it all for hours.

“--And to answer your question, no, I will not be done soon. Sorry. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

Seungcheol cooly threw one of his arms over the silver outdoor chair next to him, shaking you off. “I don’t mind. I don’t have anything else that I really wanna be doing right now.”

“--Your thesis maybe?” You crashed your knee into his under the table and threw him a teasing smirk.

“I said, anything that I want to do.”

You nabbed one of your chips back. “Suit yourself then.”

The door to the courtyard clicked, followed by the creak of the old library door. Such a metallic sound stole the tranquility of the whole space.

“Y/n.”

Jeonghan came floating behind you, dressed in his usual attire: some type of glamorous pairing of dress pants and a button down as well as shoes that looked as if they had just been shined. He wore some kind of cologne that draped after him with a dizzying type of efflorescence. Everything about him was meticulously planned, down to the few purposefully unkempt strands of chocolate brown hair on his forehead.

He craned his neck a little to see your messy scribbles.

“You’re reading Nebasifu?”

Jeonghan leaned over you, tracing a finger over the neon orange highlights you had made. He shocked you with how close he had let himself get to you, practically encapsulating you in his arms. You found yourself staring into his neck, that floral scent forcibly permeating your air.

“Hmm.”

He hummed as he read over your notes. “Interesting conclusions right? The fact that in governance we create more problems when trying to solves the ones we have already made? It’s all so circular isn’t it?”

Your sweating palm crunched the paper out from under his fingertips.

“--Really interesting. I’d like to finish it...if you please.” While your words were polite, but they still bit.

“I can recommend more similar readings if you’re interested?”

“I’m fine. Thanks for the offer.”

“If it doesn’t make sense, you can always reach out, we can talk it through...I’ve found that discussing--”

“--I said that I’m fine. Nice talking to you Jeonghan.” You cast your eyes down to your paper and attempt to slow your viciously beating chest.

fucking leave. You pleaded, knuckles turning white around your pen.

“Alright then. See you later.” He straightened his glasses upon his nose bridge. “I look forward to hearing what you have to say about the topics later.”

He swept his hand lightly across your back. It was the most fleeting of gestures, but your entire body froze from it.  

Jeonghan situated himself at one of the benches and drew out a book. He sat in the direct beams of the afternoon sun. The brown wisps of hair that hit the light looked nearly golden. You loathed that he was breathtaking without even really trying.

Seungcheol grinded his teeth, muttering out, “Fucking creep. He can’t talk to you like that.” Even quieter, “I’ll take him out for you if you want me to.”

You stifled a laugh. You couldn’t help your eyes which would flutter over to him like it was forbidden.

“No, don’t do that. But thank you ‘Cheol.”

“I’ll do it! I swear...”

•·················•·················•

Jeonghan had a terrible habit. Not like it was particularly distracting, it was just something that you had taken notice of. From where you would sit nearly across the room from him, he would remove his glasses, then rest one of the temple tips between his lips. Sometimes, the click of his teeth would meet the plastic. It was a simple action, but the way that the little curve would rest on the pink of his lips made your mind wonder...the poison that would leave those same lips couldn’t have been real; not when they looked so sweet.

“--anyone want to share what they got out of the readings and case studies? What can we learn about our interference and the sovereignty of other states?”

You were only partially paying attention when Jeonghan silently rose his hand.

“I think that Y/n had a particularly interesting oponion on this. We were discussing this previously.” He curved his body around to meet your eyes which had already been inspecting him.

With an expectant crossing of his arms, your professor approached your desk. “Y/n?”

Everyone’s eyes were on you, but Jeonghan’s burned with the hottest flame.

You took your shaking hands into your lap, then gave your oponion as eloquently as you could, swallowing down your nerves. As usual, you were perfectly well spoken, as you knew you were. The professor nodded along with each point of your argument.

“--Very well articulated Y/n. And your counterpoints are provoking as well.” He finally turned to pace away. “Would anyone like to expand?”

Your professor’s body mass moved, revealing Jeonghan’s nearly sinful prideful smile. It was like he had given you a test, and you had passed magnificently. With the cock of his head, he mouthed,

“that was lovely.”

“I’d like to expand.” He piped, removing his glasses. Just as he always would, he tapped them between his lips, letting the skin fall a little by them. You had noticed it before, but they were smooth and plump. “I think that Y/n is correct...in many ways, but some points are a bit misguided, I would argue....”

•·················•·················•

[09:23 pm]

cheol: you coming back anytime soon?  i can’t believe you’re doing this to me on a friday. is it really that serious?

[09:26 pm]

me: need I remind you that you should probably be here with me? thesis papers don’t write themselves.

cheol: and I should remind YOU that we literally just got off break? they aren’t due for months.

i know what you’re trying to prove.

it’s not worth it.

what does that asshole have over you?

“--Shouldn’t you be back at home with that golden retriever of yours?”

Jeonghan’s pen tapped at your table, white sleeves rolled up. The day had taken it’s toll on him. The bags under his eyes proved that even someone as picturesque as him could still be effected by your long days. Nevertheless disheveled, he was just as alluring.

“And shouldn’t you be flirting with one of your students?” You clicked your phone off.

“Cute. Luckily I’m not one of the desperate ones starving for the attention of the little undergrads. That's a different kind of pathetic.”

“Hmmm. I just thought that it was the attention that you were after.” Heat rose to your ears while you breathed your beating heart down.

"Who doesn’t like attention? Especially if it’s from the right people...speaking of undergrads...”

Jeonghan’s slender neck twisted to eye the obnoxious group of students huddled up on a table, giggling and making a mess of their snacks.

“You’re studying out here? I can’t even--”

“--I appreciate the concern, but you’re not helping my focus either.”

“Am I...distracting you?” Jeonghan swept his warm brown hair to the side with the cock of his eyebrow.

You shook out a sigh. “Yes.”

“You don’t have an office?”

“Department didn’t have any more.”

“I’ve got a study room that I host study sessions in. You want to use it?”

“You’re offering to help me?”

“Listen, I know how hard our program can be, and I appreciate how hard you work. You deserve a quiet place to work.”

“Are you complimenting me?”

“Don’t make me change my mind...and what would I do if the competition suddenly dropped out?” He tapped the table with his fingertips. “That wouldn’t be very much fun.”

•·················•·················•

Jeonghan’s study room was simple, just like all the others in the library. It was stark, white, the tables were a bit banged up and the white board was riddled with little ink remnants. There were glass windows nearly everywhere so you could overlook both the outdoors and the rest of the library on the opposite wall. As the two of you entered, he calmly closed all the blinds.

“No distractions right?” He looked back to you.

“...do you have something that you need to get done too?”

“Not really. I’ve submitted a good chunk of my thesis for review.”

Of course he had.

“I’m just waiting to hear back.”

He crossed the room to sit directly next to you, slinging his legs up on the table and taking out that same book from earlier: it had some pretentious title that you had never heard of before.

“Don’t mind me.” He chided your straying eyes. “I’m only staying to lock the door after you.”

“I-I’m not...” Your eyes feel back to your computer and you typed at your keyboard just to fill the sound of the quiet room.

Sitting this close to you, you could smell that dizzyingly sweet smell of his again.

You loathed him for the way that he could be doing nothing and you could be enthralled in merely that.

Jeonghan’s eyes didn’t leave his page. “The more that you look at me, the less you’re working.”

You hadn’t even noticed.

“I guess I’m more distracting than I thought.”

Furious heat rose from the pit of your stomach to the tips of your ears.

“What the hell do you get off on?” You spat.

He calmly placed his book on the table. “What are you referring to?”

“For the past three years, you haven’t left me alone for a single second, you-you always do everything that I do like you’re on some kind of sick quest to prove that you’re better than me, better than anyone else--”

“--You think that I’m copying you?”

“Wha-what else would you be doing?”

“--Getting an education? God, you think that I’m the attention whore, aren’t you hearing yourself?? You must think that I’m obsessed with you.”

“What is it then? A superiority complex so fucking huge--”

“--You’re asking what it is that I want?”

You nodded back with heaving breaths.

“What I get off on? Well...” Jeonghan chuckled a little and raked his hands through his brown strands. “You don’t deserve to know. But there is one thing that I’ve wanted for a while that I haven’t been able to get my hands on. I suppose that’s what I want most.”

“And that is?”

Tentatively, he rose his hand nearer to you, saying nothing, his aura shifting from cocky to intrigued. At first, his fingers traced over the skin of your hand as if he was drawing little pictures into it. After he brushed his hand up your arm to weave a little strand of your hair around his fingers.

“I said you don’t deserve to know.”

You must have been in a daze; some kind of waking intoxication before your thoughts could catch up with your actions. It was almost as if you weren’t thinking anything at all, but where acting on prime instinct. Your whole body screamed with utter frustration: every word that he spoke to you make you loathe him even more, you wouldn’t ever let him get away with it.

There was something that you too wanted most, no matter how abhorrent it was.

Your thighs squeezed into his sides where you had straddled him in his chair, holding on to him so tightly it hurt your muscles. The haste on your lips on his was messy and hot, a smearing of skin and teeth crashing together with fury, tongues rolling off eachother with an undeniable hunger. His arms didn’t wrap around you but rather clawed in your hair, pulling slightly at the roots while he pulled you in impossibly close. The mixing of your gasping breaths together where whiny and yearning. As he kissed into you, his lips curled into a devilish smile.

In your arousal, you shoved your hips into his lap, grinding down into your excitement and seeking some from him. To your surprise, you could feel his hardening dick which only made you weaker. All the hundreds of little fantasies that you had held so secret started to dance in your mind; your darkest thoughts pleaded for him to destroy you, to ravage you, just as you had imagined.

Jeonghan’s lips tore from your own which he had worked until they were swollen. He mouthed down your jaw to your neck, sucking at the skin with no chance of mercy, he pulled and sucked until you could only pathetically beg for him to slow down for fear of him breaking the skin.

He stopped immediately to pull your shirt over your head and pick up his work there. The wet of his gorgeously plump lips on your skin was as perfect as you had imagined and it sent shivers echoing through all your limbs.

“Jeong-Jeonghan--”

This time you perfectly aware that it was indeed his name that would escaping off your tongue.

“You dumb slut, you thought I didn’t know that you wanted me?”

“You-you want me too?”

Jeonghan worked at the buttons on your pants.

“Wanting implies that I like you. What I want most is to make you my toy. There’s a difference.”

You mumbled out the words knowing exactly how he would take them. “I’m not a fucking toy.”

Jeonghan tsked and unbuttoned his own shirt. “You don’t get to decide that.”

You drew your fingers down his model-like toned chest, marveling in the pink lines. Jeonghan grunted in response, taking you by the underside of your thighs to throw you down on your back against the hard plastic. Once he had the chance, he ridded you of your bottoms, running his hands up your inner legs to send you reeling. For a couple seconds, you could have sworn that he had stopped to admire your body, but he wouldn’t let you tell too easily.

“That door isn’t locked.”

“What? Are you scared that someone could walk in? Scared to for someone to see you all splayed out like this?” He rose to kiss up your stomach and up to your nipples. He flicked them between his fingers. “To have someone see me making a wreck of you?”

“N-no.”

With saliva drying on your sensitive buds, they turned hard in seconds when they met the air. Jeonghan wasn’t hesitant to pull at them with his teeth slightly, making you whine for him even more.

“What should I do to you first?”

One of his hands trickled down your body to palm at your quivering sex, slick with your excitement for him and aching for the smallest of touches.

“You want it that bad? Stupid whore.”

Your hand ventured down to tease at his own dick over the fabric of his slacks.

“You want it that bad?”

“Get off.” He growled at you, then took you by the arms to jerk you off of the table and onto your knees at the floor. Under your knees, the burn of the carpet stung. His belt buckle jingled a little as he hooked a finger in to remove it. Afterword, he shook his pants off followed by his briefs, springing loose his twitching member with the tip pink. He combed his fingers through your hair while he tapped his dick against your lips.

“Fucking take it.”

You would have fought him on it, but you succumbed out of your pure curiosity over his girth.

At first, you coaxed him into your mouth, not going in too deep as you were fearful about his length. Regardless, you took him in as best as you could, hollowing out your cheeks and throat, sucking with your lips and grabbing at his legs.

Jeonghan hissed out a sigh, letting himself fall further into the warmth of your mouth. He pushed at your head slightly, bringing you in just deep enough to trigger your gag reflex.

“Mmm there you go.” He cooed.

You kept going as he liked it, gradually working up in pace while it got a bit harder and harder for you to catch your breath.

“That’s as deep as you can go? Can’t even take a dick into your throat?”

His grip on your head tightened.

Jeonghan whispered, “Squeeze my leg if you want me to stop.” before helping your head all the way down, causing you to gag even harder and for tears to well in your eyes. “That’s more like it.”

He continued guiding your head, and slobber started to form around your mouth You felt so weak and pliable around him, he was thankless aside from the tiny moans he would let escape past his lips for you.

Usable as you felt, it was still a deliciously addictive feeling.  

All at once, he tore out of your mouth to bring you back up to your feet. In seconds he had turned you around to bend over the plastic tabletop, elbows digging into the cool surface. By now, you were practically dripping for him with knees and legs weak from kneeling. He kicked your legs open farther, gifting your ass a piercing slap that stung, then another followed after.

“Hungry for my cock, hmm?”

He teased your entrance without warning, sending your body crumbling over the table into a mess of whimpers and curses clenched behind your teeth. His lithe fingers were your fantasy come to life.

“I-I can’t wait any longer...” You urged him on.

Jeonghan pushed your face into the table then slid his fingers above to curl around your neck. He encircled around the skin slowly, then dug in to close your airway. You choked out desperate little sounds, then he entered you carefully, making sure that you felt every part of him.

“Hmm. Pretty...” He allowed you. Even though it was just one word of praise, you reveled in it.

His pale fingers choked you harder for a few more seconds until he properly got his pace inside of you, letting go to hold you by your waist. Once again, he clapped his hand into your skin as he fucked into you. All you could manage to do with your hands was claw helplessly at the smooth tabletop seeking some kind of balance that was nowhere to be found. He grazed the deepest and most sensitive spot within you and you felt yourself nearly reaching your climax.

“I-is that all that you can do?” You turned his confidence back against him, spurring him on just as you had wanted. He snapped his hips even faster, groaning out as he neared his release.

“My pretty little fucktoy. You’re all mine? Got it?”

Jeonghan leaned over your back to pant the words into your ear.

“Fucking say it.”

“I-I’m...” Your focus was scrambled as your orgasm pooled within.

“I’m yours...your...pretty-mm-fucktoy.”

Jeonghan came inside of you with white heat, pulsating forcefully, with you following soon after while he milked himself with your walls. Even as you still came down, he rolled his hips into you over and over until your whole body was shaking helplessly.

“That’s right.” He pulled out, then pulled your legs apart to watch his cum fall out of your hole.

Jeonghan laughed to himself, “Thank you for giving me what I wanted.”

[yoonjinkooked]

Kitchen Confidential | Jin | FINAL

Pairing: Seokjin / Reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Enemies to lovers, chef AU

Warnings: explicit sex, cursing, no longer a slow burn ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), unprotected sex (don’t do that), traces of a biting kink, oral (f receiving), short handjob, feelings. A LOT of mentions of food, so you’ll most likely be very hungry for both food and Kim Seokjin. 

Word Count: 9k+, previous chapters total to 16k

Summary: After years of annoying the life out of you, your rival, Kim Seokjin, pushes you a step too far and he knows it. As angry and resentful as you are, you don’t realize that something has been brewing under the surface for years. This weekend, that will change.

Read previous parts here: 1  /  2  /  3  

SPINOFF ANNOUNCEMENT: COMING SOON, JUNGKOOK’S STORY IN THE SAME UNIVERSE AS KITCHEN CONFIDENTIAL

A/N: And it’s done! This one took a while but I’m proud of myself for finishing this fic. I’m more responsible with my writing each day, and that includes actually finishing the stories I start. I have a few ongoing ones and a few wips that I am yet to post but Jungkook’s spinoff will come soon. If all goes according to plan, I will have about...20ish fics in 2021? So, let’s hope all DOES go according to plan. Thank you for following through with this story. Let me know what you think! 

Yesterday was something else entirely.

You may or may not have called Jungkook more than ten times. Of course, you had complete faith in him and deep down, you knew he was more than capable of running the kitchen without you but it didn’t hurt to check, did it? So you did. Ten times, before he threatened to block your number, which then had you dialing Namjoon. You had reassured him that your leg is perfectly fine and that you are perfectly capable of standing through service for one night. He insisted that you should rest and that they have everything under control. Which you believed, you really did but you still wanted to check. You’ve stopped calling when he threatened to fire you.

Today was a different story. With no news of a fire breaking out in Bonsai’s kitchen, you were noticeably more relaxed, ready to spend the entire day with your leg propped on a pillow, a tube of ice cream in your hands while rewatching the first season of The Office. All was going according to plan by the time the doorbell rang.

Looking at the clock, you see that it is only 7PM - Bonsai was still open, probably ready for dinner rush hour. It couldn’t be Jungkook and he is quite literally the only person who drops by unannounced whenever he pleases. Did you order food and had a memory blank? You were going to order the house specialty from that new fancy Italian place at the other side of town, just to keep an eye on competition. But did you actually order it? Or are you going crazy?

The doorbell rings again and begrudgingly, you start getting up. “Coming!” you yell, grabbing your wallet as you go, wondering if you even have enough spare change for a tip. No longer wobbling, you simply walk slowly and unlock the door, your jaw dropping when you open it.

On the other side of the door, with a goofy smile on his face and his hands full of paper shopping bags is no one other than Kim Seokjin himself.

“Hi,” he offers a greeting and you could swear you see nerves hiding behind the smile - sure enough, when you stay silent for a second too long, still too confused to speak, you see the tip of his ears turning red. That always used to happen whenever one of the teachers at culinary school was about to taste his dish in front of the entire class. And you probably shouldn’t be aware of that.

“Um… to what do I owe the pleasure?” you ask, once you can finally speak.

“I took a day off,” he announces, as if that is the only explanation you need. “I figured since you’re still officially on sick leave and your leg must hurt, you probably don’t want to cook,” he trails off, his ears now becoming redder. “I guess I just wanted to do something nice.”

“You want to make me dinner?” you check if you heard him correctly. This entire situation seems like a figment of your imagination, a very bizarre one at that. And you don’t even want to know how he knew where you live - that can of worms is not going to be opened.

“Yeah,” he nods proudly. “I mean, I’ll eat too, if you let me,” he jokes and when you stay silent, the smile slowly melts from his face. Realizing that you are leaving him hanging, you step aside to let him in.

“Come on in, the kitchen is the second door on the right,” you inform him and watch, still in a state of shock, as he takes off his shoes in the hallway before making his way down the hallway. That’s when you finally snap out of it, realizing that you won’t have enough time to process this as it’s happening. “What are we making?” you ask as you follow him into the kitchen.

“We are not making anything,” he emphasised as he sets the bags down on the kitchen island, before turning to face you with a stern expression, which instantly makes you feel like a scolded child. “I will be doing all the work as you sit back, relax and have a glass of wine. Unless you’re taking meds for your leg? I didn’t think of that,” he mumbles softly, frowning at the ground.

“No meds,” you inform him. His solemn expression turns bright so fast, you think you might be experiencing whiplash. What the fuck is going on here?! “What are you making?”

“I was wondering what would make an enjoyable, hearty meal that could speed up your recovery process,” he starts explaining. You want to tell him that a leg injury can’t be cured with food but you bite your tongue, not wanting to appear hostile, especially not when he’s in the middle of his grand gesture. You watch as he starts taking the ingredients out of the shopper bags - not one, but two bottles of Pinot Noir, the expensive kind too, followed by mushrooms, a whole bunch of veggies and one gigantic chunk of meat. It’s wrapped, but judging by his choice of wine, it has to be beef.

“You’re making beef stew?” you guess, surprised but not disappointed by his choice of dish. He, on the other hand, seems offended.

“What do you take me for?” he asks, very obviously exaggerating his reaction. “I’m a trained chef, Y/N. I’m making beef bourguignon.”

“Which is just a slightly fancier version of a beef stew,” you laugh, using humour to avoid thinking about the cook and prep time of beef bourguignon - at the very least three hours, even more if you want to Julia Child it and let it simmer properly. More than three hours with Kim Seokjin, in a row, without anyone around to hide behind? “Sounds good!” you lie, trying to look excited because you truly don’t want to ruin something that just seems like a nice gesture.

“Perfect!” he beams at you. “Now, where do you keep your chopping boards?”

No, you don’t have the time to think about it, not while it’s literally ongoing. You shake your head and decide to roll with the punches. “I want to help you, though. I can’t just sit here and let you do all the work. Not to mention how wrong it feels to have someone cooking in my kitchen,” you add, realizing that no one other than yourself ever cooked here - no one, ever.

“The cupboard under the sink,” you tell him as you sit down drag a chair towards the kitchen island, worried about the predicament you are in. First, the feelings, the ones you have shamelessly pushed under the rug and had refused to acknowledge. They have blindsided you and you can’t even properly define and understand him and now he is here, in your apartment, your kitchen, making dinner.

Not to mention that you aren’t exactly wearing your Sunday best. He’s all jeans and an elegant blue sweater, while you’re in mis-matched sweatpants and sweatshirt, which are both a size or two too big for you. Your hair is a mess and frankly, you can’t even recall if you’d washed your face this morning. You are a mess, both physically and emotionally and he has cornered you, most likely without even realizing it.

“In that case, you can peel and chop,” he starts laughing at your exasperated expression. “Come on, don’t look at me like that - I’m trying to do something nice here. The point is for you to relax and enjoy a good meal, a meal that someone else has cooked for you. And if you do insist on helping, then you can peel and chop.”

There’s a lump in your throat and you think you know why. It’s the feelings, they’re making you feel touched by his actions. He is spending his day off here, doing something nice for you, on his own free will? Just a week ago, all of this would have been a major red flag. And now it’s just something that makes you feel thankful, giddy even.

“Give me my peeler then,” you say, holding the palm of your hand open, waiting.

He smirks at you, shaking his head with what looks like disbelief and you smirk back, unable to stop yourself. The not so subtle stare off between you isn’t uncomfortable. It’s miles away from the feeling you had over the weekend, when you were straight up avoiding making direct eye contact with him. This time, you’re keeping it up, smiling when he is the one who breaks. He turns around and opens one of the drawers, finding the peeler on the first try before leaning over the island and handing it to you with a smirk still present on his face.

“Let’s start working, chef.”

The decision to slow down with the wine after your first glass was a good one. Not only is the wine one of the best ones you’ve tasted in a while, you also wanted to keep a clear head. Alcohol tends to greatly weaken your brain to mouth filter and that can’t happen when you’re one on one with Seokjin. You don’t want to ruin the evening. 

It felt as if he was the same Seokjin he was back when you first started school. The interesting, charming guy with a good sense of humor. He can still act over the top, which he did, but he was more toned down than usual. Is usual even the right word? It’s not, not when you don’t have much to compare it to. This is the first time the two of you have been alone for more than a few minutes, simply talking and enjoying the conversation. 

“You can’t be serious,” Seokjin laughs, putting one of the plates that he was washing back in the sink to turn around and give you a doubtful look. “You mean outside the subway, right?” 

“Nope, it was below ground, right around the corner from the trains,” you confirm, remembering that day clearly. “I remember that I was starving, so maybe that’s why the croissant was so good. It was cheap, on a Parisian subway and it still is my favorite food memory from Paris.”

“You’re picking that subway croissant over… ratatouille or bouillabaisse?” 

“I said favorite, not the most delicious one,” you point out with a laugh. “Travelling and eating go hand in hand, at least to me. Wherever I went, I’ve made a point to spend a good amount of my budget just on food. I’d go where the locals go, try food I didn’t recognize… Honestly, I miss that. I’m limited to one vacation a year and it’s usually just one destination.”

“I get that,” he tells you as he continues washing the dishes, which he insisted to do, despite your multiple offers to at least cover the clean up part of the evening. “A good friend of mine lives in Greece, owns an amazing restaurant. I’ve gone there for the past three years and don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining, I live for Greek food. But I want to explore more, you know?” 

“That’s very relatable,” you sigh, suddenly feeling a little bit regretful. “I’ve been to Italy, Japan, France numerous times, had the most amazing experiences but there are so many other places waiting to be discovered and I just play it safe. I want to go somewhere and try… I don’t know, all the weird stuff that sounds unappetizing but is actually the local specialty. I’m a bit tired of the classic dishes that end up on our menus and comfort food.”

“What’s your favorite comfort food?” Seokjin asks you, as he finally wraps up his work and joins you, sitting across the island and reaching for his own glass of wine as you try to think of an answer. Comfort food by taste or comfort food by memory? 

“I have to go with potatoes.” 

He chokes on his drink, making you laugh at his reaction. Once again, you are met with a look of disbelief. “Are you kidding me? Potatoes? Out of all the food in the world?”

“You said comfort food, not favorite food,” you remind him with a grin. “And yeah, it’s potatoes. They’re so simple and versatile and you can do whatever the hell you want with them. When I was a kid, my mom used to make me and my brother these stuffed, roasted potatoes. I don’t even know the ingredients honestly, I’ve never tried making them myself like that. To get that original comfort food taste, it has to be made by my mom. No one else.” 

“I’m a professional chef and I still fully acknowledge that I’m nowhere near as good as my mom is,” Seokjin’s admission makes you laugh but you understand it fully. “She used to make the most amazing mac and cheese. Unlike you, I did try to recreate it - I followed her recipe to a T and still ended up with a sad imitation. Nothing ever beats the food you grew up eating.”

“Are you close to your family?” you ask and regret it immediately, wondering if that is too much, if you’re asking questions you have no business knowing answers to. You’ve known Seokjin for years but you could hardly call him a friend when you know so little about him. 

“Yeah, I’d say so,” he nods, not even hesitating to share information about his personal life. “I visit them often and I try to go fishing with my brother as much as I can. What about you?” 

“As close as we can be,” you shrug, reaching for your wine. “You know what our working hours are like and as much as I want to drive and see them on the weekends, I often just can’t. And my brother lives abroad with his wife and kids, so we rarely see each other. We facetime often, though. His kids are already starting school next year.” 

“I have a niece,” Seokjin smiles with that cute, content smile that now feels familiar. You wait as he pulls out his phone, turning it to proudly show off the photo he selected - it’s him with a child in his arms, a little girl with the cutest face, big smile and tiny little pigtails. She can’t be more than three years old and she looks so happy to be held by her uncle. 

“Oh, she is so cute! She adores you, doesn’t she?” the words leave your mouth before you can stop them. 

“I think she loves me more than her parents,” he admits, breaking into a fit of laughter. “She doesn’t let go of me, which I don’t mind, I adore the kid, but she just fuels my mother’s need for more grandchildren and when she clings to me… well…” 

“Oh, I know,” you wave your hand. “Mine have two grandchildren and not a single reunion passes without them wondering when I’m going to reproduce.” They mean well, you know that and you don’t hold it against them. There are just times when they make you feel like you’re not doing a good enough job with the life they’ve given you, just because you haven’t had kids yet. Yes, they mean well but that’s not something you often want to hear.  

“Do you want kids?” he asks. It should feel weird, it really should, talking about these things with him. It’s personal, too personal even, but you feel so at ease around him tonight, you can’t be bothered to care. It doesn’t feel wrong, not in the slightest. 

“One day, yeah,” you shrug, seeing as this wasn’t something you thought about often. When you’re single and haven’t had a serious relationship in years, kids are on the back burner. “What about you? I don’t know why, but I never pegged you for a parental type.”

“You don’t know me very well then,” he laughs and the way he does it is so… cheeky and teasing. If anyone else was sitting here with you right now, you would swear on your life that they were flirting. Without a doubt, the teasing smile and raised eyebrow would make your mind go in that direction. Seeing as this is Seokjin, you can’t be too sure. It goes against everything he has ever said and done. But like a curse, Jungkook’s words come back to haunt you again. Would it be so weird to think that he likes you? He is here, after all. 

“You’re right,” you nod as you put down your glass. “I don’t know you very well, do I?” he seems surprised at your question, even going so far as to look uncomfortable. Only for a second, before he offers you a smile. 

“What would you like to know?” 

“Why are you here?” you ask. It wasn’t what you were planning on asking, not by a long shot. You wanted to ask stupid questions, to find out what his favorite movies are, what’s his most embarrassing memory - the things you know about your friends. A game of 20 questions was what you had in mind when pointing out that you don’t really know a lot about him but when the opportunity presented itself, your self control had other plans. And seriously - why is he here? 

Seokjin blinks a couple of times, seemingly needing time to process your question and think of a decent answer. “I wanted to do something nice,” he shrugs, giving you the same excuse that he had given earlier. You didn’t doubt it much then but now you’ve started wondering. “We’ve decided to start over and I… wanted to extend an olive branch.”

It makes perfect sense and you don’t believe a single word of it. “Why are you really here?” you push, following your instinct. Said instinct might be affected by the feelings but it’s there. And if there is one thing you’ve learned in life, it’s to follow your gut feeling - always. 

Seokjin chuckles nervously and lo and behold, his ears give him away. “Do you think there’s an ulterior motive here?” he asks, shaking his head. He’s a decent actor, but not nearly as good as he thinks he is. He’s way too defensive for someone with no ulterior motives. “I didn’t poison the beef bourguignon, if that’s what you’re aiming at,” he adds, pointing back at the stove, where your dinner has been slowly simmering for about an hour now. 

“No, I don’t think you’re trying to poison me,” you chuckle, shaking your head, wondering if you should just stop talking and drop the whole thing entirely. “I thought that… You know what? Never mind,” you decide, knowing that some questions are perhaps better left unanswered. “Tell me, what’s your favorite TV show? Are you a binger or a once a week type of guy?” 

“Y/N, you don’t get to change topics on me like that,” Seokjin looks serious now, refusing to break eye contact. You struggle to not look away, knowing that you have pushed it too far and now you’re unable to backtrack. He won’t let you. “What did you think?” he asks. 

What’s the worst thing that could happen if you answer truthfully? He could laugh at you and that’s pretty much it. And if he does start laughing, you can play it off and join in on the joke. And if he pulls the ultimate dick move and tells your mutual friends about it, you can always deny. 

“The things that happened over the weekend had made me wonder,” you tell him, deciding to leave out the part when Jungkook opened your eyes to this possibility. “Some of the things that you’ve said kind of got my wheels spinning, you know?” you ask. As he swallows a lump, still not looking away from you, you decide to rip off the bandaid and throw your theory out. “Call me crazy and feel free to laugh and tell me I’m a fool but… Seokjin… do you like me?” 

Zero emotions are shown on his face. It’s the most perfect poker face that you have ever seen - exposed forehead, full lips and all. Self confidence was never a strong suit of yours, except in the kitchen of course, but you know better than to try and backtrack now. Seconds ago, it was still salvageable. Now, you’ve said it and it’s out in the open. You were either right or wrong. 

You wait, not backing away from the nth stare down of the night. You wait, letting him have his time to prepare an answer, whether it’s the truth or a lie. If your suspicions weren’t correct, wouldn’t he have already said something? 

“What gave me away?” 

And there it is. Jungkook was right and you were blind. How are you supposed to feel now? Relieved? Worried? Panicked? Amused? None of those make sense, nor do they describe the way you are feeling now. With Seokjin looking at you as if he has finally given up, finally surrendered, the only emotion that you can single out with clarity is curiosity. 

“Wow. I mean, I wasn’t sure, I half expected you to laugh mockingly or something,” you admit, finally looking away and shaking your head, as if that’s supposed to get your thoughts in order. “The other night, when you said that you just did it to make me laugh… I thought, maybe…” 

Lies. Jungkook figured it out, and even then, you refused to believe. Even now, you’re still expecting Seokjin to start laughing, claiming that he had pulled off the ultimate prank. He doesn’t - in fact, he looks more serious than you’ve ever seen him. 

“Makes sense,” he lets out a dark chuckle. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Or pissed at myself. I’ve said too much, I’ve set myself up,” the way he runs a hand through his hair, with that solemn look on his face makes him look… hot. Like, really hot. “But at least it’s out in the open, right? Now you know.” 

“Wait,” you raise a hand. “I have no idea what you’re trying to say. Like… since when? How? Why? I… I don’t get it.” 

“Since when?” he laughs. Now you’re borderline worried, the guy looks like he’s going to experience a mental breakdown any second now. “Pretty much for as long as we’ve known each other. I know, shocking,” he adds, seeing how your eyes had widened when you heard his answer. “To think how I thought that I was obvious.” 

“Oh no, you weren’t,” you sit up straighter, your voice raised up a notch. “You were anything but, Seokjin. I thought you despised me! That I was your arch nemesis or some shit like that.” 

“Well, maybe I wasn’t obvious to you but I was to others, I’m damn sure all of Catnip knows by now,” he tells you and he looks as if he is calming himself down. His voice is lower and he’s no longer making eye contact, but staring at the island between you. “What I said was true, I did do it to make you laugh and somewhere along the way, I’ve pissed you off, so much so that you went on thinking that I hated you. Which I don’t, by the way. Never have.” 

“You… you are a horrible flirt, you know that, right?” is all you can say now, still trying to wrap your head around the fact that the man had a crush on you for years. This time when he laughs, it’s not the dark tone that his laughter had just moments ago. This time around, his laughter is very much genuine, but it also dies down fast. 

“I’m very much aware of that,” he confirms, finally looking your way again. There’s not a trace of positive emotion on his face. It’s as if he has completely given up on this conversation ending with a positive outcome. You can’t blame them for that - given the questioning that you’re putting him through and your history together - if you were in his shoes, you’d also see this as an uncomfortable rejection conversation. 

Is it, though? It would be, if it weren’t for the feelings. They’re there. You have no fucking clue what they are, much less what they mean but they are there and you can’t ignore their existence any longer. They remind you that once upon a time, he really did make you laugh. That this whole dumb rivalry made you want to work harder and be better, even if it was for the petty reason of simply being better than him. The feelings remind you that you did always consider him attractive, that that stupid smile that he has when he’s truly happy and content does things to you. The feelings remind you that you can recognize the tell-tale signs of his embarrassment. You might not know him well, every line and crevice, every positive and negative but you still know more than you had originally thought. And you want to know more. 

“Why?” you ask, knowing you won’t have a peace of mind until you know, even if asking such questions might make him feel uncomfortable. “Why me? I just… I don’t get it.” 

“Neither do I,” he answers immediately, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t have a big reason behind it or a particular moment when I realized. Liking you was instant. Of course, it didn’t develop into something… deeper straight away. That part lasted years, but it was impossible not to like you, Y/N. We’re chefs. We make food, that’s our job - our job is to take food and cook it, presented in a visually appealing manner and charge for it more than we should. And you take such a simple, almost meaningless thing and turn it into an art form.” 

Although touching and meaningful, his words confuse the life out of you. “You like me because I’m a good chef?” you ask, wondering if you’ve missed something. 

“I like you because of the dedication you give to it,” he elaborates. “That stupid excercise that we did the other day didn’t let me do you justice. The look on your face that you’ve had on that first day remains the same now, whenever I see you taking the simplest ingredients and turning them into art. I have admired that and it’s one of the reasons why my eyes would look for you every damn time we were in that test kitchen. You were there and so focused, so beautiful and so damn good at what you did. And smart, funny, a good leader and a good friend. It also didn’t hurt that you look damn hot when you’re focused on something.” 

The last part he adds, almost like an afterthought and it makes you laugh. He laughs too, when you make eye contact. The feelings have gone haywire. You officially have no control of them because the things that he has said about you, you recognized in him as well, at one point or another. He is so good at what he does, dedicated and driven, while also being a good leader and from what you’ve seen, an awesome friend. To others he was funny - to you, he was a pain in the ass that just so happened to look damn hot when he was focused on something. 

“I don’t know what to say,” you admit when you start feeling as if the silence is lasting too long. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” he waves his hand, dismissing your suggestion and once again, confusing the hell out of you. “It’s out in the open and now you know why I was an idiot for all those years. I meant what I said when I told you that I wanted us to start fresh and be friendly with one another. I’m a big boy, I know that what’s not meant to be is not meant to be.” 

“No, you’re not,” you shake your head, amused at the confusion etched on his face. “You are childish and often petty and honestly, at times you are the most insufferable being on this planet and I can’t even begin to describe how confusing it is that I find that endearing.” 

As you listed all the things he is, you watched as his face fell, but you didn’t have a chance to feel bad about it, not when you know that despite all of that, he’s still a good guy. He’s still Seokjin, with all his quirks and insufferable moments. And as much as you might want to deny it, you like him. You really do like him. 

“Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t always endearing - in fact, more often than not, you were a real pain in the ass. You’re not a big boy who can handle rejection well and I don’t want to see you handle it. I don’t want to watch you struggle to get over this crush of yours for weeks, months even. I also don’t want to watch you finding it easy to get over it, completely forgetting all about it in a matter of days,” you tell him and you’re not even sure if the words make sense but they go out of your mouth and into his ears, making his eyes go wide. 

“Y/N, what are you trying to say?” 

“I have no fucking clue,” you shrug, getting up from your chair. “I didn’t have enough time to process any of this. Just minutes ago, I thought there’s no way in hell that you’re that dumb to pull a third grader flirting technique,” you keep talking as you walk over to him, watching him as he turns to face you, slightly alarmed by your sudden proximity, even if there’s a good two feet between you. “I’m not fully aware of what I’m saying, or feeling for that matter, but I do know that I am feeling something. Don’t ask me to define it, cause I can’t, not in this mindfuck of a plot twist that my life did not prepare me for. I just know that I want to test something out.” 

“Test? Test out what?” he asks as you take the final step to close the gap between you. 

“This,” is all you tell him as you grab a hold of his cute blue sweater and pull him closer, not wasting a single second before you press your lips to his. Neither of you moves for a moment or two, he out of shock and you out of pure confusion because why the hell are you kissing Kim Seokjin?! A few seconds pass and it’s he who starts moving, bringing life into your dead kiss. And the moment he does, you feel it in the pit of your stomach that there is nothing, absolutely nothing wrong about this. When he puts his hands on your sides, you let yours move from where they were clutching onto his sweater up and around his neck, pulling him down, closer to you. The strands of hair that reach the nape of his neck feel like silk under your fingers and when you feel his tongue graze your bottom lip, you softly gasp. 

That makes him pull away - that little gasp of yours seems like a wake-up call for him because he is pulling away, his eyes wide, making him look as if he thinks he is imagining all of this. He looks shocked but he is not letting go of you and your hands are still locked behind his neck. 

“Kissing you is good,” you conclude. “I want to keep doing that.” 

“Zero complaints here,” is all he says before he stands up and kisses you again. Without breaking the kiss, he twists your hips to the side, making you lean back on the island, the edge of the surface pressing into your back as he essentially cages you. 

It’s funny, how many things about him you never really realized. For example, how tall he actually is and how much he has to bend down in order to kiss you, which he does, diligently. You also have never noticed how clear his skin is, not until your fingers grazed his cheeks softly. He was in front of you, right in front of you, all these years and until tonight, he was nothing more than an annoying guy with a good face. How wrong you were… 

“Of course, you’re a good kisser too,” he sighs as he breaks the kiss, leaning his forehead on yours, his eyes still closed. “Are you an overachiever in every aspect of your life?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you tease, chuckling when he backs away, startled. 

“That’s not… I wasn’t trying to insinuate something,” he defends himself immediately. 

“But I am,” you giggle at the way his eyes widen. You can’t blame him - this night has made you go from zero to sixty in no time. That realization does make you nervous but you’ve already decided to push it back and just do whatever it is that you want to do. “I’m telling you, I don’t want to think or define. We can deal with that later. Now, I just want… you.” 

Seokjin takes a second, gulping, looking at you as if he is waiting for you to laugh in his face or take the offer back. When he stays silent for what you deem as a bit too long, you smile softly at him and drag your thumb across his bottom lip - it’s so soft and inviting, already red from the kisses that you’ve shared. You want him and he needs to stop second guessing that. 

Whatever it is that he was looking for on your face, he seems to have found it because he’s suddenly kissing you again, with a lot more ferocity than he did just moments ago. That was a kiss, a first kiss, a getting-to-know-what-this-feels-like kiss - this is a kiss. Hands digging into your skin, tongue driving you crazy with gasps and heavy breathing kind of kiss. 

You are the one who pulls away but you stay silent, taking his hand into yours and leading him towards the door. A silent moment is exchanged when he looks at the stove, where your dinner is still cooking, then back to you. Beef bourguignon takes hours to make and given the years of expertise between the two of you, you’re comfortable with leaving the stove on. So you laugh and he does too, before you pull him into the hallway. 

Along the way, you kiss, hit a few walls and your sweatshirt is left discarded on the floor - you don’t have time for another freakout at how ridiculously unprepared you are for this because the way he looks at you kills the little insecurities that haunt you. His eyes scan over any area of skin that they can see while his fingers slide over the very edge of your bra, tickling the skin they graze. Goosebumps cover your skin and you all but slam him into your bedroom door. 

“Woah,” he laughs. “Never thought you were this impatient.” 

“I’m usually not,” you admit with a shrug. 

“I’m not complaining,” he laughs as the two of you waddle towards the bed, still pressed to one another. You smile as you push him gently onto the bed. He looks up at you, mouth open and eyebrows raised. “Oh, I am not complaining at all!” 

Smiling, you straddle his lap and pause for a second, taking a moment to get used to what’s happening. Unlike you, he is patient - he simply looks at you, a strange mix of awe and giddiness written on his face. His hands are glued to your hips and he runs his thumbs in circles, gently. It looks as if he’s relishing the moment and letting you take the lead in what’ll happen next. “This is really happening, isn’t it?” you ask, your chest filling with pride when he shows you that signature smile of his, the one that causes a ruckus among the butterflies in your stomach. 

“I think it is,” he leans closer to you, connecting his lips to your neck and that one, simple action is enough to make you realize that if he’s down, you’ll be more than happy to take it all the way tonight. Neck kisses are a universal weakness and you’re gladly going to let him use it to his advantage. “If this ends up being a wet dream of mine, I’m going to be so pissed when I wake up,” he admits before nipping at your skin, an action that elicits a whole new wave of horniness to take over you. Neck kisses are bad enough - neck bites will be your downfall. 

“If it is a wet dream, come and find me when you wake up and tell me what you’ve told me tonight. Then we’ll see what we can do about it,” you joke, laughing even harder when he grabs a hold of you and moves you down on the bed. This is the first sign of initiative that he has shown so far and you are not complaining. It’s your turn now to gulp as he hovers above you, looking down at your body like he is seconds away from eating you alive. 

“I thought you were hot before but I never thought you were hiding all of this under your clothes,” he tells you as he pulls down on the straps of your bra - at least your underwear is a matching black set, if the rest of you is a mess. Lifting your back from the bed, you help him take the fabric off and he grins up at you once your boobs are out in the open. “Chef’s uniforms really didn’t do your boobs justice.” 

“You’ve seen me in casual clothes plenty of times,” you laugh at his antics. He’s known you for years, there’s no way he didn’t catch a good view of your cleavage in all that time. 

“Not nearly as often as I should have,” he mumbles and before you have a chance to talk back, he leaves you speechless as he attaches his mouth to you, immediately giving your nipple a gentle bite. Eyes rolling into the back of your head, you do your best to stay silent - there’s no way in hell Seokjin won’t be cocky about this later and you don’t want to give him too much material to work with right off the bat. 

It doesn’t take long for you to realize that one of the hottest things about being with Seokjin like this is simply seeing Seokjin like this. There is just something so inherently hot about the way his eyes close as rolls his tongue across your nipple. He makes the sight even hotter than the action itself, especially when he reaches for your other breast, gently playing with it as he pleases. Simple actions like that are already driving you nuts and you can only worry about what’s to come later. And it gets worse - turned on by the sight, you reach for him, moving the hair away from his eyes and the second you two make eye contact, a moan leaves you - a loud, shameless one at that. You could swear his eyes twinkled then and there. 

“Please tell me you have a condom,” he starts kissing down your body. 

“If you’re clean, you don’t need it. I’m clean and on the pill.” 

He suddenly stops kissing you, choosing to laugh instead. “You’re telling me that a week ago you could barely stand being in the same room with me and now you’re letting me sleep with you without a condom?” 

“I mean...” you shrug, joining in on his laughter. “I’m sure stranger things have happened.” 

“Not to me they haven’t,” he jokes, before immediately turning serious. “Are you sure you want this? I really don’t want you to regret it,” he admits. 

“The only thing I’m going to regret is letting you take the lead because you’re taking too long and you’re still in your clothes.” 

“Easy,” he laughs as he hooks his fingers past the waistband of your sweatpants and slowly starts pulling them down, leaving your underwear in place. “Eat what makes you happy, they say,” he says and you roll your eyes. Of course, leave it to Seokjin to think pussy. 

“They also say don’t play with your food,” you playfully remind him as you kick off the pants. He doesn’t laugh - instead, he reaches for your leg and softly caresses it. 

“Is your leg going to be okay?” he asks and if you weren’t whipped beyond belief before, you are now. Even you have managed to completely forget about your injury but he hasn't. Even now, Seokjin finds ways to prove you wrong and show how thoughtful he actually is. 

You simply nod and that’s confirmation enough for him. His hand trails up and on the inside of your thigh pausing before touching your wet underwear. He gives you a questioning look, not touching you until you confirm that that’s what you want. You nod quickly and in a matter of seconds, the last of your clothes is on the floor, and Seokjin is diving right in. 

Despite complaining that he’s taking too long, you realize that he’s not the one to tease - at least not tonight. His mouth connects with your clit almost immediately and it’s enough to make you moan again. He licks, sucks and grazes his teeth against it, letting you hold onto his hair like your life depends on it. He’s good, which makes perfect sense because leave it to Kim Seokjin to give you the best oral sex of your entire life. You won’t tell him - not now, perhaps not ever, cause he doesn’t need that to get into his head too, but good lord is he good. 

“Can I?” he asks, tracing his finger across your opening. 

“Seokjin, at this point you can do whatever the fuck you want,” you laugh, a laugh that turns into a moan when he sinks his finger in, curving it up immediately and making you arch your back. 

“Is this good?” he asks and the feelings go berserk again. In your mind, it can’t get any better than a man that actually pays attention to what his lover enjoys. 

“More than,” you moan as he adds another finger and effectively ends your conversation. He is driving you crazy - something that you’ve noticed before, when you side eyed his chopping skills years ago, is how he has beautiful hands with long, almost elegant fingers. Never did you think that those fingers would be inside you, making you count your blessings and struggle to not moan out his name. A struggle that you have lost when he puts a third finger to use. 

You want more - as amazing as it is, you want more. You want to kiss him, to feel him inside you, to make him feel as good as he is making you feel now. As much as you didn’t want to stop him, as much as you’d gladly spend hours like this, you wanted and needed more. 

“Seokjin, stop,” he does so immediately, looking up at you in worry. His face is covered in your wetness and the sight makes you want to cry. He has never looked hotter than he does right now, between your legs, the evidence of your pleasure all over his face and his hair a mess because of you. “I want you. Wanna kiss you.” 

“But you taste heavenly,” he pouts, turning his head to leave kisses on your thigh. 

“I’ll taste heavenly a bit later too,” you push, knowing that no matter how good this feels, it can get better for the both of you. “Come on, I want to see you.” 

Grinning, he gives your thigh a quick bite - the man has a biting kink, there’s no denying it. While that’s something you’ve never given much thought before, you are now finding it very enjoyable. What’s even more enjoyable is the sight of Seokjin taking his sweater off. You’ve known he’s handsome, you’re not blind, but never in a million years would you think that he’s so well defined. He’s not buff, far from it. He is just so perfectly defined, every muscle on his stomach noticeable and if you’re being completely honest with yourself, lickable. 

He undresses quickly as you ogle at him, your breath hitching the moment he drops his pants. 

“Well, that explains a lot,” you comment as you eye his dick - hard, girthy and surprisingly big. 

“What?” Seokjin is confused and you giggle at the way he hides his dick with his hands. “You think I’m compensating for something?” 

“Quite the opposite,” you answer honestly. “I imagine it’s easy being so full of yourself with a dick like that.” 

“Is that an insult or a compliment?” he laughs. 

“Both,” you would have been more cheeky if he hadn’t started stroking himself, the sight driving you absolutely crazy. “Please. I want to feel you.”

You don’t have to say it again - he moves to loom over you and finally, after what feels like hours and not mere minutes, you can kiss him again. The taste of you on his tongue doesn’t bother you. It’s the opposite, actually, making this moment and Seokjin himself even hotter to you. He lets you push him down onto the bed and without breaking the kiss, you station yourself above him. For the first time tonight, his hands grab a hold of your ass and he squeezes - hard. 

Both of you stay silent as you move, putting your arm between the two of you to grab a hold of his dick as you kiss. He lets out a groan the moment you wrap your hands around it. Movements gentle and slow, teasing even, knowing that this is the only chance you get to focus on his pleasure. You’d gladly take him into your mouth but you’re much too impatient for that tonight. A brief hand job will have to do, and judging by his reactions, it’s more than enough. 

You are surprised at how vocal Seokjin actually is in bed, not that you’ve given it much thought before. He’s not holding back, his moans low and deep, not embarrassed in the slightest to show you how good you’re making him feel. After one particular, higher pitched moan, you decide to do the same. You were holding back before, stupidly worried about your own dignity and giving him material to tease you endlessly. You won’t anymore. 

Biting your bottom lip and pulling it as he breaks the kiss, he leans back, looking at you with lust in his eyes, his cheeks the exact same shade as the tips of his ears. You want to take a photograph, to memorize the sight of him being turned. It feels like a privilege that only you have and you want to commit it to memory. “Y/N, please,” is all he says. 

Slowly, you line him up to your entrance and with your bottom lip between your teeth, you sink down on him. Immediately, the both of you groan at the feeling. Him being inside you feels right in all the wrong ways, a feeling so right that you know you’re going to miss it when it’s gone. 

He is the one who moves first, lifting his hips to get you to move. Smiling down at him, you grab a hold of his shoulders and slowly move your hips, letting him almost slip out of you before swallowing him whole again. Each roll of your hips faster than the previous one, not even a minute passes before Seokjin moves his hands away from your ass and pulls you directly on top of him, chest to chest, lips stuck in a slow kiss as he slams up into you. 

“Fuck, you feel so good Y/N,” he tells you and follows it with a particular hard thrust that makes you grip his shoulders harder, holding on for dear life. Having never been with him before, you couldn’t tell if he was close or not. You weren’t, yet strangely, that doesn’t bother you whatsoever. That can be dealt with easily - now, all you want to do is enjoy the feeling of him slamming into you, hard and fast, and the sight of him barely keeping it together. 

“Happy to hear that,” you giggle before said giggle is rudely interrupted with another harsher snap of his hips. “Fine, fine, you’re not so bad yourself,” you tease and the look he gives you is enough for you to know that you’ll regret saying that. Immediately. 

Without any warning, he flips you around and slams you down on the bed, his dick never leaving you. Before you can even react in any way, your healthy leg is pushed up towards your chest and Seokjin slams into you with a purpose. “You talk about how I annoyed the life out of you, pretending like you’ve never bickered back with that mouth of yours,” his words are menacing and incredibly sexy, but the way he is eating you up with his eyes kills any doubt that his words are actually resentful. “I’m glad I’ve found a way to shut you up,” he announces and as if you weren’t losing your mind already, he sneaks a finger between your legs and pinches your clit, eliciting the loudest moan of the night. “Or maybe not.”

“Seokjin!” 

“Fuck, you sound so hot screaming my name,” his pace speeds up, knowing that your orgasm is right around the corner - his thrusts become more shallow but his fingers rub your clit in the speed of light. “Come on Y/N, come for me.” 

As much as you wish that your body complied and let you come on his command, it didn’t happen that way. It took a few thrusts more, a few more harsher movements of his fingers, but by the time your orgasm has washed over you, you were gasping loudly, digging your nails into the skin of his back. Your brain was mush and you could barely recognize the words he’s saying, something about how you’re squeezing him so good. He doesn’t stop moving, helping you ride out your orgasm to the point of overstimulation. Coming out of your post-orgasm haze, you fight the overstimulation and focus on him, noticing how his thrusts are getting more erratic. He looks so out of it, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, his shoulders red with how strong you are gripping him. Slowly, you slide your hands up and around his neck, pulling him down to you, ignoring the painful stretch in your leg. 

“You can finish inside me,” you tell him, hushing his loud moan with a kiss. It’s a hectic kiss, your lips barely moving because he’s gasping into your mouth and you’re moaning at the feeling of his dick twitching inside you. “Seokjin, please come for me.” 

Was it you begging for him to come or a creampie kink, you have no idea and you don’t particularly care because the moment he comes and starts filling you up, you’re on cloud nine. It feels as good as an actual orgasm, to know that you, your body, the way you made him feel was enough to make him explode, very literally. You were the one helping him now, lifting up your hips as he stood still, his face buried in your neck, his groans filling your ear. His dick is still twitching but his body has completely given up - he drops your leg and practically falls on top of you, having enough strength and sanity to soften the blow with his hands. 

His hands give up slowly and in a matter of seconds every inch of him is pressed up against you. You don’t care, too busy relishing the feeling of his breaths on your neck and his cum slowly dripping out of you and around his dick. God, you wish you could see it but the position won’t let you. Instead of pushing him away to get a better view, you close your eyes and let your body calm down together with his. 

His weight on top of you should feel suffocating but it’s not. It feels comforting and right, which scares you to an extent but not enough to chicken out and push him away, especially not when he starts kissing any parts of you he can reach, focusing on your shoulder. After a few moments he rolls over but stays close, his hand draped over your side. You look at each other and it’s impossible not to smile because he is beaming. You can’t remember if you’ve ever seen him this happy. You must have - it’s just that you probably weren’t paying attention. 

“So… that happened,” he speaks up first. 

“Yup. Talk about a plot twist, huh?” you joke, shaking your head as you realize how weird this is on paper. “Culinary school Y/N never thought a day would come when she’d have sex with Seokjin.” 

“Yesterday’s Seokjin never thought a day would come when he’d have sex with Y/N,” he laughs, shuffling closer to you. By the looks of it, he is a cuddler and you have zero complaints about it. You let him hold you, snuggling against his chest, enjoying the moment a lot more than you ever thought you could. “Let me take you out, Y/N,” he tells you. He seems earnest and a lot more hopeful than he was back in the kitchen. “You found it in you to put the tension behind and give us a shot at being friends. Why not give this a shot, too? I like you a lot and I’ve liked you for a while… maybe you could find something to like in little old me?” he shrugs. 

“It’s already too late for that,” you laugh, lowering your head to leave a few kisses on his chest. “I’m still not ready to define it and put it to words but I’d be happy to go out with you,” you admit. 

“It might not take us anywhere,” he shrugs, making your head bounce with the movement. “For all we know, you might realize you do hate my guts after all. But maybe we end up getting along better than anyone would expect?” 

“Seokjin… with your cooking skills and your oral skills, we’re already getting along very well, if you ask me,” you joke but after a few seconds of laughter, he sits up and pushes you away. 

“The beef bourguignon!” he gasps. The sight of Seokjin running out of your bedroom, naked, to check on the food brings tears to your eyes. You can even hear him berating you, yelling something about how this is not a laughing matter but that only makes it more comical. Isn’t it ironic how now, he can make you laugh without even trying? 

The beef bourguignon didn’t burn. It was the best beef bourguignon that you’ve ever had. The entire evening was one of the best in your recent memory. Whether it was the dinner, his sweater that you were wearing while you ate, the wine, the shared shower or waking up the next morning in his embrace, the time you’ve spent with Seokjin was enjoyable, perhaps even meaningful and definitely worth repeating. 

As long as you are both willing to give it a go, it’s worth it. And it has to be kept between the two of you, at least for now. Cause as much as you like Seokjin, his cooking skills and his dick, your group of friends will never, ever, let you live this one down. Although, for all of the above… it might just be worth it. 

THE END 

[fantasia-monogram]

As the clock strikes midnight, part 2

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / epilogue

♥️ Taeyang x reader (nonbinary, female anatomy) x Jaeyoon; mentions of other SF9 members

♥️ NSFW (~1.7k words); a lot of sex talk and kink negotiation. Mentions of BDSM and kink. No one is 100% straight. Mentions of queerphobia.

♥️ You’re a beast at work, having to be tough to climb up the corporate ladder, but what you never thought of is that your attitude might be intimidating to your long time crush. Luckily, your much more laid back friend is here to help... both of you. Please read part 1 before this!

♥️ Disclaimer: this is just for fun! I’m not claiming that’s how they are in real life, it’s just my imagination doing whatever it wants. Read at your own discretion.

Your impromptu get-together had been going for over two hours already, and you’d loved every minute of it so far. Your motivation had been mostly spending some time with Taeyang away from the workplace, but you had to admit: your other companion’s intentions towards you weren’t clear either. You enjoyed the mystery of it all, even though it was the youngest of your trio that you had your eyes on ever since the training period started.

Well, the mystery would end there, or so you thought.

“I can’t believe I put myself in a drama-like setting, but,” Jaeyoon started, clearly down out of sudden, “That guy reviewing our results… What was his name? Inseong… I might have a bit of a crush on him.”

You stopped in the middle of bringing a cup to your lips, letting your hand holding the latte hang awkwardly in the air. With the corner of your eye, you could see Taeyang doing the same.

“Come on, don’t tell me that you’re…” Jaeyoon whined, shaking his head.

“No, hear me out,” you interrupted. Before you spoke again, you cautiously looked left and right to make sure no one else was listening. Only then, you continued with a hushed voice. “You know, it drives me crazy whenever they call me a she in those international reports. I’m non-binary, I prefer neutral pronouns. I don’t really have to worry about it on a daily basis, until English rolls in and makes me cringe.”

Your friend leaned closer to you.

“Not like I didn’t notice,” he concluded. A wide grin was back on his face. “Do you like boys, though?”

You could tell he was just joking, given his usual flirty attitude, and you didn’t have to answer at all. However, since you started confessing already, you figured you could take it seriously.

“I do, actually!” You nodded, smiling lightly.

You couldn’t believe you could talk about it openly like that.

“Oh, I don’t discriminate, I fuck everybody,” Jaeyoon replied in a seemingly playful tone, although being serious as well, “But right now? My heart belongs to the Quality Department leader.” He finished with a hand on his chest.

You both laughed wholeheartedly, until you noticed Taeyang was silent this entire time. Jaeyoon turned his eyes towards him, with you following shortly.

“What about you?” Jaeyoon asked boldly.

A look of slight panic flashed through Taeyang’s face, and you’d think it’s adorable if not for the crushing possibility of him having objections towards who you were - now that he knew, it could have changed anything.

You really didn’t want to have your heart broken after mere four weeks since starting a new job.

“I… I like g…” Taeyang stuttered, his gaze briefly catching yours. He held tight onto his cup of coffee and looked away, blushing profusely. “People with vaginas.”

“No way!” Jaeyoon exclaimed. Fortunately, he remembered the topic of your conversation and immediately toned it back down. “I’m sorry, I’d have never clocked you as straight.”

“Hey, stop it!” You smacked his bicep, earning an exaggerated wince from him.

Taeyang rolled his eyes and sighed deeply.

“It’s fine,” he stated, putting on a regretful expression. “I get that a lot. I tried everything, but that’s my final verdict for now.”

Jaeyoon kept making inappropriate jokes despite your earlier protest, but you would be lying if you said you were listening to him. Your eyes were glued on Taeyang, even though he was way too busy deflecting your other friend’s silly remarks to pay attention to you.

*

It wasn't the first time Jaeyoon and Taeyang have visited your place; they've been there numerous times before, together and separately. 

It was the first time, however, when they entered the apartment with all three of you feeling equally horny and not even trying to hide it. 

It couldn't have been caused by the alcohol, because you haven't had any, Taeyang only had a couple sugary drinks, and Jaeyoon got completely sober as soon as the words fun night were mentioned. Nothing had been explicitly stated, but all of you - always having been open not just about your sexual identity and orientation, but also your specific attitudes towards sex in general - have reached an unspoken agreement: everyone was getting off tonight, this way or another.

You quickly decided to take turns using the bathroom. When it was Jaeyoon's turn to shower, you were left alone with Taeyang. It was a bit awkward at first, considering his confession from earlier that you barely replied to. As soon as he sat on a sofa in the living room - smelling clean, fresh glow on his face - you took a place beside him, wearing your black satin pajamas already.

Taeyang leaned back and smiled at you blissfully. Only then, he took your hand in his; after holding it for a good minute, he intertwined your fingers.

"I'm so happy," he whispered. 

You really wished to answer in a coherent way, yet you couldn't possibly focus enough to be your usual, collected self - not when you finally had your long-time crush next to you, shirtless, lightly toned muscles and sharp outline of ribs on display.

Maybe you didn't want to shock him by showing this side of yourself so easily, but it was impossible at this point; your prettiest, prettiest boy was here, looking at you as if you were the most precious thing in the entire universe, making your heart swell with love and desire just by that. 

Not used to being so overwhelmed with emotions, you just stared back at him wide-eyed.

"Sheesh, don't tell me you started without me!" 

Jaeyoon appeared in the doorway, hair still wet and adorably curled without usual styling - a contrast to his impressive physique in nearly full glory since he, as opposed to the more reserved Taeyang, decided to step out of the bathroom wearing only boxer briefs. 

It's not like you hadn't seen him like this before, as you'd go to the pool together many times over the past few years (Taeyang always refused the invitation, even though he claimed to be a pro at swimming and even bragged about gold and silver medals he won in national competitions during high school). Yet somehow, this time, the sight hit differently, since you knew what was about to happen. 

"No way," you chuckled; Taeyang let go of your hand, which made your mood deflate a little. "Mind if we eat something first?" 

Everyone was starving after the boring company party, so you all moved to the kitchen. You couldn't hide your amusement over how the apartment looked like a dollhouse when trying to contain not just you, but also two grown men. You gave up on relationships ages ago, so when looking for a place to rent, you had only your own comfort in mind.

"Okay, first of all," you started when everyone was finished with their meal, "Are we all safe? While I was still in the dating game, I was always monogamous and did regular checkups. I haven't had any partners for the past four years." 

You cringed internally saying it out loud, but transparency was your number one priority. 

"I never do anything without a condom," Jaeyoon stated. 

As usual, Taeyang took a while before taking part in risky conversations.

"I do BDSM, but it hardly ever involved actual sex." 

"I can confirm that." Jaeyoon smiled smugly, propping his chin on his hand. 

Your eyes went comically wide at the implication. 

"Wait, what did I miss?! I thought you liked, in your words, people with vaginas?" You gasped, blood rushing to your cheeks. 

Taeyang's face turned equally red, except he decided to cover it with his hand. 

"Y/n, dear, he said that three and a half years ago," your friend explained. 

"Jaeyoon hyung had his part in my awakening as a submissive," Taeyang added, finally daring to look at you, "There was nothing sexual about it." 

"Except for the fact I watched you jerk off," the hyung in question clarified. 

"HEY!" The other guy got flushed again. 

You swallowed heavily, feeling your throat get dry all of sudden. Oh my God. You could barely sit still at this point. 

"We both like to watch," Jaeyoon concluded casually. 

"So… Wait a minute," you picked up, your head spinning from the information overload, "If I understand it correctly: Taeyang, you're a sub. Jaeyoon, we're both Doms."

The guys nodded in unison. 

"We're all into voyeurism."

Again, they confirmed with a single nod. 

"I can't believe. This is too good to be true," you said weakly, shaking your head with disbelief. 

"I have an idea," the older of your colleagues continued, "I don't wanna get too much inbetween you two."

Suddenly, Taeyang squeezed your hand under the table in a way that was borderline possessive. 

"But since it's supposed to be enjoyable for all of us… I could get a bit touchy with Y/n… I suppose watching us would be enough to get Taeyangie ready, am I right?" 

Taeyang looked to the side, his expression serious, but his body language unable to hide the excitement. 

"Humiliate me a little and I'll be fine," he muttered under his breath.

He squeezed your hand even harder. You smiled at the feeling. 

"I have one request for you," you turned to Jaeyoon, "No kissing on the lips, no hands in each other's underwear."

"I'm okay with that," he shrugged.

"You sure?" Taeyang asked. 

"No worries, just focus on yourself," the older guy chuckled, "I'll take care of myself while watching you two have fun." 

Was it happening for real? You felt like you were dreaming.

Taeyang brought you back to reality by bringing your linked hands to rest on his thigh. 

"Do we… go all the way?" He inquired in a shy tone. 

You took your time to inhale and exhale deeply before collecting yourself enough to answer. 

"Yeah, we do."

(to be continued)