#but every time my brain is Convinced that it’s a sign my friends don’t want to be around me

[laughinglynx]

.

[lightseoul]

Hello! For your event can i get #11 ?

hello, sure! this took quite a while for me to get around to doing, but i hope the wait was worth it <3 thank you for playing!

(this is lightseoul’s 2k milestone event ft. bakugou katsuki! to play, view the numbered list of prompts here, then simply send an ask with your chosen number and i’ll whip something up!)

warnings. minors dni, please!

11. "IS THAT MY SHIRT?" (1.4k)

under other circumstances, today would’ve been filed under the non-descript mornings with which you start your unremarkable days.

the sun is barely peeking through the curtains, the temperature is not too cold but not too hot, and you’re buried in freshly washed bedding that smells divine.

and so it’s not really your fault for thinking for a modicum of a second that today was just like any other day.

if it weren’t for the muscled arm slung across your bare waist.

you’re yanked from your half-asleep stupor the second you see it, and you jolt in shock before you can stop yourself. the man beside you, thankfully, doesn’t stir awake.

with wide eyes, you chance a glance at the decidedly naked person next to you (if your sense of touch wasn’t betraying you), and the sight that greets you nearly makes you faint.

because what the fuck are you doing in bed—naked—with the bakugou katsuki?

suddenly the areas where your skin meets his are becoming way too hot, and you’re hit with the visceral urge to get away from the man.

and so as discreetly and quietly as you can, you lift the arm that’s wrapped around your midriff, but freeze when his grip tightens and he shifts every so minutely. sneaking a peek again, now at his face, you study the man with caution as his eyebrows furrow for a beat before they relax along with the rest of his features.

you don’t allow yourself to revel in how peaceful he looks, or dwell on the fact that you may have just fucked this man last night, choosing to try again and wrestle yourself out of his hold. to your relief, he doesn’t resist, even in slumber, and you’re able to slide out of the bed with minimal noise and motion, thanks to his firm, exquisite mattress.

you wonder how firm it proved to be last night…

you mentally slap yourself.

now is not the time to be horny.

it instantly dawns on you how naked you are, standing in this man’s bedroom fully bare, and so you scan the room for any sign of your undergarments and clothing. it doesn’t take you a while to spot your panties, and then your bra a few seconds later—both of which are notably plain and not at all sexy. you try to fight the cringe as you shimmy into them—obviously, you didn’t anticipate getting any action yesterday—eyes darting across the area in search of your shirt. they finally land on the black article that’s unceremoniously sprawled across near the foot of the bed, and you waste no time putting it on.

and as you find your trousers and squeeze yourself into them, you let your brain wander to what got you here in the first place.

you remember being strung along by your girlfriends into that exclusive bar that’s said to be frequented by many pro-heroes. you don’t know how your designated planner friend managed to get you guys entry, but you didn’t question it, choosing to just enjoy the atmosphere and drink good booze with good company.

in fact, you may have drunk too much good booze because your memory drifts in and out a few hours into settling into a booth in the bar. you recall one friend pointing to a group of three men who looked suspiciously like pro-heroes cellophane, red riot, and dynamight, as well as you laughing at how it couldn’t be.

you wince at the memory of said friend, who knows about the big, fat, embarrassing crush you have on the ash-blonde hero, dragging you to where they sat and introducing yourselves to the men.

at that point, you were tipsy and bordering on drunk, and dead convinced that they were just wannabes who wanted to look like their hero idols. but the guy with the crimson eyes that were notably boring into you looked too much like bakugou that you threw all caution to the wind and just went along with it, too curious about the person in front of you.

but now, as you stand smack dab in the middle of this pristine bedroom that can only belong to a very highly-paid, famously all-might-loving hero, you’re flooded by a wave of dizzying nausea.

dizzying nausea that doubles up when your eyes catch the ridiculously sculpted arms of the man who’s still lying on his stomach, seemingly fast asleep.

you can relive and fact-check your fantasies later, when you’re alone and in the safety of your much more modest apartment unit, but not now.

and so with a slightly heavy heart, you turn around and silently twist the knob, ready to tiptoe the hell out of his room with your purse in tow.

but all hopes of making a quiet exit get thrown out of his bougie-ass windows when the door fucking creaks so loud, that you don’t have to look behind you to know that the man just shot awake.

you stand there, frozen with your back turned against him, for what feels like forever, before ultimately deciding that you can’t just walk out the door now like nothing happened lest you come off as a fucking lunatic.

and so with a deep inhale, you steel yourself for the incoming shitshow, and turn.

you try not to stare at his crazy, stupid, built torso or his beautiful face that’s looking all too stunned as you awkwardly gesture to the door.

“you ought to lubricate this door of yours,” you quip, capping it with a laugh, although it comes out stilted.

and when he doesn’t say anything, “…sorry i woke you up.”

that must’ve been enough to sober him up, because he finally speaks up. “shit—no, i—”

he cuts himself off as he scrambles to get up, and you turn around just in time to not see his dick dangle as he searched for his boxers. you hear rustling and things being turned upside down as you wait for him to get dressed.

“just a sec,” he calls out, before: “have you seen my—is that my shirt?”

before you can think better against it, you whip around to look at where he’s gesturing, only to be met with him, now in his boxer shorts, staring straight at you.

“wha—?”

you look down to where his gaze is fixed, and sure enough, the shirt you’re wearing is decisively not yours.

“fuck—” you start, flaming in embarrassment, “i’m sorry, i thought it was mine. i—let me just—” you trail off just as your eyes land on another black shirt near your feet, and you’re about to scoop it up and turn and hurriedly strip off his shirt when he speaks up.

“no, it’s okay.” you freeze, bent over and hand just barely having grasped the shirt off the floor. and when he doesn’t say anything, you slowly straighten up, fighting to maintain eye contact.

he’s scowling now.

“you don’t have to scurry like a fucking rat, dumbass,” he spits, although there’s not much bite to it. he’s looking a tad bit embarrassed, too. hesitating for a second, he diverts his gaze, before: “can’t i at least cook you breakfast?”

you pick up your jaw that just dropped to the floor as fast as you can. “you—you mean you don’t want me to leave just yet?”

at that, he scoffs. “what do you take me for, a fuckboy?”

he says it so incredulously you almost snort. instead, you cock your head a bit to the right, not entirely able to deny your impressions of him.

“seriously?” he splutters for a beat, before sighing in resignation. shaking his head, he finally shifts to meet your eyes and regard you, the switch in the air to that of palpable seriousness so potent.

“i don’t normally do this,” he states, gaze remaining fixed on yours, as if he’s trying to communicate the rest with just his eyes.

you don’t have to ask him what ‘this’ means.

and so you reply just as honestly. “me, neither.”

neither of you says anything for a brief moment, the revelations from both of you taking up the small space between.

“so,” bakugou breaks the silence eventually, “breakfast?”

[schoenpepper]

Here Kitty Kitty Kitty (Housewardens)

Intro: You're a wild little thing, aren't you? Let's see how the NRC dorm leaders deal with you, then.

Warnings: bad grammar, awful writing, not proofread, not much i think idk tell me if i should pop a warning somewhere, it's reaaally long

A/N: My goodbye gift before I die in college. Not that I'd be too busy though, my prof list isn't even complete yet. Hollywood lied to me about college it all sucks (not even started first day yet). Oh this was a request btw so I hope you like it anon. Even though I'm not sure I really followed through with the request I'm sorry.

Masterlist

Headcanon order (on the what he thinks of you part):

Fierce, reckless, territorial, soft to people close to you

You tried to tell Neige you weren’t interested in the National Arcane Academy Culture Fair, you really did. But your best friend is a lot less of a pushover than he seems to be, hanging onto your arm and pulling you right to the middle of the chaos. NRC is dark, dreary, and every corner seems to be black and covered with spiderwebs. Which, honestly, is quite the refreshing turn from the bright white glitter you’d gotten used to in RSA.

“Their science club is doing a cafe!”

The black-haired, starry-eyed boy points at a spot on the map. “It’s not too far from this place, maybe we can drop by and try out their treats.” he smiles happily. You look away (two years is not enough time to get used to the sparkles that magically appear whenever he beams) and sigh. “Where are the dwarves? Won’t they enjoy going to the cafe more than I would? I told you I was just fine sitting on a bench somewhere until the SDC.”

“Huh? Oh, you’re right. Where are they—” you pull him back as he turns, but not before he bumps into someone.

“I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking…”

“Hm? It’s fine, oh hey, aren’t you that superstar on the news?”

The ginger is getting uncomfortably close to your friend’s personal space, so you get in front of Neige, shielding him from this nosy NRC student.

“Y/N!” Neige gives you a worried look, tugging on your sleeve, “I should apologize.”

“What? He said it’s fine already.”

“Ace, are you disturbing these visitors?”

At the sound of the new voice, the young man in front of you straightens up almost unnecessarily straight, back taut and expression nervous. A short student with strawberry red hair is accompanied by a tall student with glasses and green hair. The redhead seems very uptight, with the way he drags down this ‘Ace’ person to his level by the collar to chastise him from apparently ‘disturbing’ you. Neige waves from behind you, trying to stop them while making sure not to leave your circle of protection. “No, we bumped into him, it was my fault really.”

“Ah, I see,” he nods as he lets go of the other person’s collar, “my apologies that you had to see that shameful act. If you need anything, please let the culture fair committee members know, you will recognize them by this badge.”

“Cool, but we’re just going to the cafe. Thanks for the help, bye,” you cut the conversation short and pull Neige away.

“Y/N, that was very rude.”

You shrug, “What was I supposed to do? Didn’t you see that guy has an on and off switch for exploding like an active volcano? Did you want to be on the receiving end of his next outburst?”

“Don’t be so judgmental, Y/N, you barely know the person,” Neige sighs.

“I don’t need to know him.”

Exchange program:

It turns out that you did, in fact, need to know him. Neige somehow managed to convince you to sign up for an exchange student program between RSA and NRC, so you got sorted into Heartslabyul and the guy you insulted at the culture fair is now your housewarden.

Ace and Deuce are okay, if not a few cells short of a brain sometimes. You do enjoy getting caught up in their shenanigans whenever the dorm leader and his eight hundred something rules get a tad bit too stifling. At some point, their dumb (affectionate) tactics manage to work their way into your heart, so you begrudgingly call them friends.

You think Cater’s a good guy, if not a bit social-media-obsessed. You don’t mind having him nearby because he generally just chats about random things. As long as you manage to put up with him asking for a pic every once in a while, he’s not awful. Trey is a comforting presence. He may or may not have Pavlov’d you with the way he always has a sweet treat with him, making you calmer and more susceptible to behaving within his general vicinity.

Riddle is a whole ‘nother thing altogether; you make him mad. Er, madder than usual, at least. Something must be in the tea in Heartslabyul because you and the housewarden in the same room is a guarantee for a beheading. Usually you, but there have been a fair number of innocent victims who’d just happened to get caught up in your squabbles. Riddle is a flame and you’re a tankful of gasoline, always with a witty comeback or something else that’s sure to make every situation worse.

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

Think a dry, wooden cottage smack dab in the middle of the woods and a wildfire. That’s how you and Riddle get along. You’re hot tempered; pot, meet kettle. You’re sarcastic and snippy, traits that he most certainly does not appreciate. Every time he’s lecturing you about something or the other, you speak. And every word that comes out of your mouth makes him want to collar you.

…Another one? How did his dorm somehow get stuck with the most ‘act first, think later’ individuals? You give Riddle a headache, but don’t worry, he’s all too used to it. He will bail you out of trouble and every stupid situation you find yourself in, but also, he will assign you a 5000 word apology essay each time he does.

Riddle gets it. It’s a sign of disrespect when people touch your things without your explicit consent, and he’d get mad too if it was him in that situation. Does, however, do a double-take when he sees you tackle someone to the ground after you hear them insult Neige, screaming something about “your people”. Turns a blind eye.

Since…since when have you and that duo been so close? He’s not mad (for once). But he does feel rather…upset. You’re always such a spiky individual, so to see you almost melting into the couch, head on Deuce’s lap as he patted your hair and legs over Ace’s, it’s almost surreal. He’s not angry, no, but then why does he still feel unhappy?

Love story climax:

“I just don’t understand. Why do I feel so uncomfortable when I see Y/N together with other people?”

Trey hums from where he’s standing in the kitchen, letting Riddle know that he’s listening while whipping the bowl of cream.

“You’re smart,” Trey chuckles, “you’ll figure it out.”

Riddle rolls his eyes and looks back down at the chopping board, cutting off the top of another strawberry. It wasn’t an illness, but maybe if he diagnosed it like one, he could arrive at a proper conclusion. He mentally retraces his steps and every unpleasant feeling that had welled up inside him. He feels okay, good maybe, when he sees you. He gets mad when you retort while he’s trying to discipline you, but even then, he seems to have started to find it rather…cute? And he gets unreasonably anxious when you’re so close to your friends.

…No. No. Absolutely not.

Riddle Rosehearts is not in love with you.

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

You still make him mad, but now instead of being collared, you just need to coax him a little and this strawberry shortcake is ready to fold like a collapsible tent. Make it up to him by being sweet and loving him lots, okay? If it’s to other people, he doesn’t really care as long as it doesn’t get violent. You are exempt from the apology letters though, congrats (he thinks that time writing them could be better spent with him).

Riddle probably needs heart medication at some point, you’re going to drive him either insane or to his inevitable death. He gets a lot more protective of you now because you’re his partner, but please please please at least try not to get hurt. Or try to consider if you might get hurt before doing something. Or how about this, you call him up before you make any decision at all?! Yeah. Heart attack.

Honestly, he probably doesn’t realize that you have a tendency to be overly possessive and territorial of him. Riddle isn’t exactly the type of guy to frequently get love confessions (he should be), you know? So the only time he nottices is when you catch him in the middle of equestrian club meetings or something, and he’s just a step too close to some newbie. Tells you to keep it down and assures you, his love for you is real and unchanging.

Happy guy. He thinks he’s silly when he gets so giddy at the smallest things you do, like kissing the back of his hand, but he can’t exactly stop the somersaults his heart does whenever you’re being so affectionate with him. Regardless, it’s quite rude to make public displays of affection, so be reserved and try to keep it all in private. Will blush at every little thing until like, two years into the relationship.

“Oh I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

Neige’s words are cut short when you tackle the hyena beastman to the ground. He looks at you, horrified, and was likely about to chastise you before you pulled out a familiar leather wallet from the beastman’s pocket. “Thief,” you hiss, “you picked the wrong students to mess with.”

“Tsk, [laugh with me].”

The hyena rolls around and you’re unable to control your own movements, rolling with him. You’re lying on the ground when the magic snaps but he’s already running away, Neige’s wallet in hand. “Oh no you don’t!”

You weave through the crowd of students and booths, trying to keep your eyes trained on the mop of caramel hair that was zooming farther and farther away from you. You finally spot him by one of the stages, where he sprints by a tall lion beastman who catches him by the scruff of his neck like a kitten. You come to a stop, panting lightly as you glare at the lion beastman. “Is this guy a friend of yours? He has something of mine, so you better have him give it back quick or I’ll—”

“Ruggie,” The lion yawns, “no stealing during the culture fair.”

“Finders keepers!”

“Ruggie.”

“Fine.”

You get Neige’s wallet back and immediately turn tail and leave. These NRC students are freaks (no stealing during the culture fair? then it’s okay to steal any other time?).

Exchange program:

Something something it’s better to make friends than enemies. While not a saying you’ve ever given a fuck about before, it’s hard not to care when it led you to where you are now. Due to a mass voting in RSA for whoever to send to the exchange program, you’ve been bolted out as the sacrificial lamb (that’s what you get for always picking fights). Savanaclaw takes you in because you wrestle one of their dorm members to the ground on your very first day.

Jack Howl is probably one of the closest things you’ll see to another RSA student in this place. You get along well with him because he doesn’t take your quips at face value (or rather, he doesn’t care for your insults and dry sarcasm). Ruggie takes a bit more getting used to, but he’s a really cool dude when you manage to keep all your valuables away from arm’s reach.

And Leona…he’s like a stray cat. And you’re also a stray cat. And you’re in the same dark alley, coexisting together. You ignore each other most of the time unless the other gets a tad bit too close. It’s not too bad when the boundaries are in place.

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

He’s too tired and sleepy most of the time to deal with your temper. Not as if you can do anything about it though, try as you might, you can never win against Leona. You can talk crap about how lazy he is or whatever, he doesn’t care, but whenever you even attempt to fight him you’re already subdued one way or another. Leona thinks you should pick and choose your battles well.

While Leona is a big believer of instincts, there’s a fine line between believing and charging in like a bull seeing red at the first tingle of a gut feeling. He’ll let out a sigh but still, he’ll fish you out of trouble and claim you’re bothering his naptime and he’ll totally leave you to fend for yourself the next time the consequences of your stupid actions find you (he will not).

He’s a lion, of course he’s territorial. So he understands your need to stake your claim on a certain place or item, as long as it’s not something he’d already claimed as his own. Leaves you about it. Territorial about people though? Same thing. Do as you will, he can’t muster the energy to care.

A low growl is emitted from his chest, pupils constricted into pinpricks, ears and tail stiff—Leona isn’t dumb. He knows that the instinctual actions of his body mean something, and in this case, it means he’s annoyed watching you be all buddy buddy with Ruggie. You, the little porcupine you are, laughing so easily with the guy you swore was your enemy, it makes him gnash his teeth in anger (envy).

Love story climax:

He can’t get you out of his head.

The few months you’ve been at NRC, you’ve started to become an existence that he didn’t mind constantly having around. He’d found you annoying at first, so why is it that now, just seeing you so happy with Ruggie is enough to drive him insane? He keeps his eyes closed but he can’t sleep. You’re still lingering in his vision, a hazy mirage by the moonlight of the savanna. Why can’t he stop thinking about you?

Why can’t he stop thinking about your hair and how soft it looked to touch? Why can’t he stop thinking about how incredible your skin would feel on his? Why can’t he stop thinking about your lips…?

Fuck.

Leona rolls over in his bed, burying his face in a pillow. Maybe if he suffocated to death he wouldn’t be haunted by thoughts of you. But, if you’re so willing to be close to Ruggie, why not Leona? He could be your…friend too. Do you already think of him as a friend? You tend to run to him with that stupid smile and chatter away even when he tells you to go away, is that a sign that you saw him as some sort of confidant? Whatever.

Leona’s not good with emotions, but he’s the farthest thing from a coward.

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

Okay wildfire, Leona likes it, but you need to tone it down a bit unless you want your ass handed back to you on a platter. No he’s not threatening you, it’s just that you should already know the folks in NRC aren’t scared of fights. No he doesn’t care that you’re not scared of fights. Stop picking fights. If you sass him back enough he will sling you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

There’s a reason why he always has one hand on you, whether on your hip or the back of your neck. It’s not because he’s a clingy kitty (stop teasing, he’s not a cat!), rather, it’s so he can easily stop you when a situation arises and you decide on something he wishes you didn’t decide on. Now that you’re in a relationship, he’ll sit you down and start a long discussion on why you should learn to think before you act.

Let’s get something straight, you are part of his territory, not the other way around. He’s just as protective and possessive of you as you are to him, if not more, so pretty much everyone knows to book it when they see you two together. Any poor soul who has a crush on either of you quickly get the picture.

Tsk, you’re so clingy (affectionate). Unlike most guys on the list, Leona doesn’t give two shits about other people, ergo, he doesn’t care when you kiss or touch him in public. In fact, he encourages it. Go ahead, mark him up. But if he reciprocates, he’ll tell you he’s just doing what you’ve been doing, so you have no right to refuse.

You knew it was instantly trouble when the person he bumped into had all the tells of a bad mood. You push Neige behind you while he apologizes profusely to the stranger. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there, I’m so sorry!” His words obviously went unheard because this annoyingly tall NRC student only grimaced, and you know from experience that when someone bares their teeth at you, it means they haven’t forgiven your pitiful apology.

“You can’t see where you’re going, hah, maybe I should squeeze you ‘til your eyes pop out? Maybe you’ll see it then?”

Let it be known that though you were half this asshole’s size, that did not mean you were going to take this lying down.

“Hey, back off. He said it was an accident.”

You feel Neige tugging on your sleeve. “Hey, Y/N let’s just—”

“I don’t care if it was an accident, I’m in a slump and you just made it worse, y’know?”

“Well I don’t care if you don’t care. You better back off before I take your slump and shove it down your stupid—”

Another unfamiliar figure approaches, this one shorter than the asshole, with purplish-white hair and glasses, yet somehow looking just as dangerous with the kind smile he has on. He gives the guy in front of you a very pissed-off look behind the carefully maintained grin. You think he might be trying to whisper, but it’s not very quiet.

“Floyd! I told you to sell the drinks while Jade and I are gone, what are you doing here?”

“Ehhh, but I didn’t feel like selling drinks.”

They’re gone before you even know what’s going on.

The interaction only cemented what you’d known before you even got here; everyone in NRC is a weirdo.

Exchange program:

Apparently, someone’s great idea for a prank is signing you up to be an exchange student to NRC. So, hurray.

You’re plopped into Octavinelle because the very reliable headmaster of NRC drew lots from some magical (rigged) thing. It doesn’t take you too long to realize that the quick-to-violence guy you’d met a little while back is one of the frontrunners of the dormitory. Thankfully, your second meeting has Floyd in a better mood than before, and he decides that you’re interesting before bestowing you your very own nickname; catfish. You do not appreciate it.

Jade is easy enough to get along with, you’ve discovered it’s good to just do as he says and as long as he has nothing to gain from it, he won’t torment you (too much). Though, he does make your hackles rise every once in a while because dear Seven he gives you the heebie-jeebies, even despite the perfectly polite thing he has going on.

Azul, it takes you way too long to befriend. He starts off avoiding you almost entirely, like you’re a contagious disease (if only you knew). You’re not the type to suck up to anyone, and definitely not the type to force close proximity with someone who seems to hate you, so you leave him alone. Eventually, one potion explosion, two torn contracts, and one messed up lounge later, you and Azul become acquaintances. Friends, maybe. Uh, tentatively.

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

Azul thinks you’re unnecessarily high-strung. Well, where do you get the energy to always be so combative and hot-tempered? He’d rather stay away from people like you when business isn’t involved. He’s one to always keep calm and cool after all, he doesn’t think he’d get along with you at all.

Your tendency to act according to your nature and intuition and just general however you feel like acting, it’s an enigma for sure. Azul prefers a plan and at least three other backup plans, so you running headfirst into any situation makes him sigh and take another step back from you. Sevens know it might be contagious (does not call you stupid to your face, but to your back? Absolutely).

The first time he saw you almost bite Floyd’s head off for just touching your things without your permission, it was enough for him to put another strike on his record. Oh dear, you really are a handful, aren’t you? Does not realize your territorialism extends to people until Jade showed him what happened to the last student that tried messing with one of the dwarves.

Azul thinks he needs new glasses. Is that you? Looking so sweet and cuddly with your friends? Really? He gets flashbacks to when you almost scratched his eyes out that time he tried roping you into one of his contracts. Now seeing you all clingy with that celebrity, he feels…uncomfortable. It must be because you’re acting strange (he’s not jealous, thank you very much).

Love story climax:

“Yeah their food is crazy good,” you grin at Neige, helping him choose a few items on the menu, “as long as the bill is paid, at least.”

While Azul is flattered at your actions to recommend the Mostro Lounge to your closest friend who’d dropped by for a visit, there’s an annoying, itchy, gnawing feeling in one of his hearts that makes him unable to sit still. He pushes your original waiter aside and approaches your table with his little notepad, shooting you the most charming smile he’s able to give. He taps his pen against the paper to get your attention. “Y/N, I’m so glad to see you stop by again. I assume you’ll have the usual?”

“Oh, hey Azul,” he does not fail to notice the way your tone gets softer with him, “yes please. And can you add some other dishes for my friend here? Maybe two or three of your most popular ones, just so he can try them.”

Azul nods, jotting down your order. Then, he places a hand over his chest, grinning, “Of course, and just for you, it’s free of charge!”

It doesn’t take him long to confess now that he knows you like him too.

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

Thinks it’s hot 100%, he will die on this hill. While he still doesn’t appreciate you constantly getting into fights with other people, seeing you angry is so interesting to him. Also, you turn down the sarcasm with him, so he can fully enjoy seeing you tear someone a new one. Will not stop you unless it’s beginning to get physical.

His hair is about to turn white. Except, it’s already white. Anyway, the point is that you stress him out very much, as you being reckless means you tend to get into situations that isn’t in his Plan A. Or B. Or C. He bails you out of trouble with a calm smile and an eloquent speech, and it’s usually enough to resolve the situation. This doesn’t mean he likes you having virtually no self-control or self-reflection skills though, you’ll have to have a long talk with him (communication is key).

Azul thinks it’s cute when you let him pop your personal bubble, and he’s very happy to watch you try to pick a fight with anyone who gets too close to either you or him (keyword being try, he does his best to stop any actual fights from happening). He doesn’t mind you seeing him as part of your ‘territory’, as long as he gets something in return (and you don’t get too suffocating).

Watching you curl up into him whether in public or private gets him flustered, but especially in public. Angelfish, the big bad businessman has a reputation to uphold, you know? Still, he can’t find it in himself to push you off when you’re just so adorable like this, knowing how feisty you typically are. Do try to save it for private spaces though, he would also like to cling onto you shamelessly.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to!”

Something is off about the person Neige bumped into. Call it a gut feeling, or maybe it was the way the brown haired student was instantly alert, sweeping the white haired boy to a ‘safer’ distance before deciding on whether or not it was worth it to actually face you and Neige. You’re not sure what exactly is wrong, but your intuition is saying that this is not the kind of person your all-too-naive friend is supposed to fraternize with.

“It’s fine.”

His answer is curt, and he steers the other boy away immediately. You share a look with Neige, when you click your tongue and pull him along to find a map.

“They seemed nice.”

You hope there will not come a day when your friend is at the mercy of people with bad intentions, as it is very likely that he’d be eaten alive. “They seemed like bad news. Everyone here seems like bad news.” You reply, finally finding the botanical gardens where the cafe had been set up. You sit across from Neige at a table where some student takes your orders. Neige asks for a caramel macchiato with extra caramel and some macarons, and you opt for something a little less diabetic. “Don’t say that, Y/N. They didn’t even do anything to us, even though I was at fault for bumping into them. Isn’t that nice?”

You roll your eyes, “It’s nice that they didn’t, what, beat us up? Have higher standards, LeBlanche.”

“They seem like they’d make for good friends, that’s all,” he laughs softly.

“You think that of everyone.”

“Maybe you should give it a try.”

Exchange program:

Neige’s great plan to get you more “accustomed” to people is to throw you to NRC in the school’s newly-cooked-up exchange student program. You can’t stop him, because he really is only thinking of the best for you, but it doesn’t mean you have to like it, right? You get put in Scarabia because they have a lot of room.

Jamil is…okay. He’s a lot of things, but mostly, he’s not someone you’d ever find back at RSA. He’s a stressed out nanny most of the time, but there are a few moments when he feels more morally gray than people should probably be.

Kalim, however, you get along with splendidly. With him as your housewarden, you almost feel like you’re back with your normal circle of friends. Except Kalim is like, horrendously richer than them (and a bit more airheaded, though you think that could still be debated).

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

Sorry, but most of your sarcasm is going to bounce right off Kalim’s head. He will not notice it unless you’re really blunt about it, in which case, why? It’s not easy to be mad at someone who’s so genuine all the time, and being unnecessarily mean to him is just, well, mean. It’s best to just go along with him. You can’t win against this type of person.

Twinning! No, seriously, you’re two cookies cut from the same dough, with the exact same cookie cutter. You and Kalim are exactly the same in this kind of thing, and it drives Jamil absolutely insane. Sorry to say but whatever trouble you stir up you’re going to have to face yourself; Kalim is no help, he rarely even has to face the consequences of his own actions, much less yours.

Kalim is the kind of guy to unintentionally get too close, like, all the time. No he doesn’t mean it, but it also doesn’t help when your instincts go nuts because he borrowed a pencil without asking. He does notice that you’re very protective of your stuff, but he doesn’t really notice what he does most of the time, though he tries to respect your boundaries. Does not notice it translates to people.

Oh hey! You’re hanging out with Neige, that’s so cool, can he come with? No…? You want some time with your friend because he’s only visiting for a short time? That’s cool…yeah, he can give you guys space. It’s not very often that the Al-Asim heir finds something that makes him feel disappointed or upset, but this is certainly one of them. And the worst part is, he doesn’t even know why.

Love story climax:

You’re such a sight to behold.

Kalim wonders if Neige knows how lucky he is, able to touch you and hug you like he does. You don’t even fight back, only returning the embrace with a smile. There’s a sharp pain in Kalim’s chest and he wonders what he has to do in order for you to let him that close. He’s your friend too, isn’t he? It’s…so unfair.

“Kalim?”

Jamil approaches him with a worried expression. “Are you okay? You’ve been staring at the fountain for a while.”

He sees the change in Jamil’s face when he notices that it’s you sitting by the fountain. “I see.” The words make Kalim laugh. He rests his elbows on the railing and leans forward, resting his chin on his palms. Of course, Jamil would know. Jamil would understand. Jamil can see the blooming feelings in his chest that he himself took far too long to get.

He wonders if you know.

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

Being in a relationship does not make Kalim able to detect sarcasm. If you ever try to sass him, he will take it at face value. Anyway, now that you’re this close, it’s easier to understand that with his background, Kalim has never wanted for anything, and no one ever really says no to him. He has a tendency to not hear what you’re saying sometimes, only believing in what he wants to hear. You’re going to need to find some time to discuss this with him.

The only way that this would differ from when you were just strangers/friends with Kalim, is that Jamil is now kind of obligated to help you out when you find yourself in situations you can’t (and likely don’t want to) talk your way out of. At some point he just hypnotizes you to stay out of trouble, at least for a weekend, so he can breathe. Between you and Kalim, he’s probably about to overblot again.

Are you jealous? Kalim laughs it off and hugs you, promising he only loves you and no one else! It’s unlikely he understands the nuances, but Jamil assures you it’s better that way. Your protectiveness goes a bit unnoticed, if only because he’s used to bodyguards and being protected, and it’s also very unlikely that he notices your possessiveness.

Kalim lives for displays of affection! Physical touch, gift giving, words of affirmation—his most fluent language is every love language ever. You want to hug in the middle of a crowd? Sure, he might lose you in the throng of people, after all. Want to kiss? Why not? Make sure not to miss his lips, okay? Private, public, with an audience or alone, Kalim will love you and he will do it in a way that you will never doubt his feelings for you.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t—oh! You’re one of Vil’s friends, right?” Neige holds out a hand to the purple-haired boy for a handshake while you look on with a raised brow. “Um, Epel, I think, is what he called you?”

This Epel kid puts on a smile and shakes Neige’s hand, but it’s easy to tell it’s fake. He’s looking around nervously, as if to ascertain that no one sees him holding hands with Neige, and he takes it back as quickly as he’d put it out. “Right, I need to go, it was nice seeing you,” Epel laughs awkwardly and attempts to leave. He’s rooted in place once his name is called out by someone tall, blonde, and annoyingly pretty. You know from watching your friend’s works that this is the person who often played his rival; Vil Schoenheit. He does not give you the impression that he considers Neige a friend the way that Neige sees him go be.

“Epel, it’s time to go back for rehearsals,” he snaps at the younger boy, before putting on a perfectly practiced smile as he turned to Neige, “apologies for the trouble, we’ll leave you be now.”

And they walk away.

Your friend next to you is waving happily while you cross your arms.

(Clearly, that pompous-looking peacock has something against Neige.)

“It’s a shame, I wanted to introduce you to Vil, but he seems very busy.”

You scoff lightly, but at the very least, you try to mask your distaste. There’s no need for you to tell him that Vil likely hates his guts and the very dirt he steps on, not unless the other makes a move on it. “I don’t need to know anyone here,” you roll your eyes and hold onto his wrist, pulling him away, “let’s just find that cafe. Botanical gardens, right?”

“Right!”

Exchange program:

Due to a few…accidents, the faculty members of RSA have chosen you to represent the school in an exchange student program (they want you shipped off to NRC, like, bad). Pomefiore is the very lucky winner of the “which dorm should this kid be in” raffle, which means hell for you.

Epel is surprisingly funny. He’s probably one of the prettiest people you’ve ever met (and RSA is filled with pretty boys), yet his natural way of doing things is so crude, for lack of a better word. He feels good to chill with, and escape from all the prissiness that the dorm (and its housewarden) has to offer. Rook, though, you stay far away from. Sometimes when you’re alone, you feel like someone is watching you. And it’s probably him.

If there was anyone in this entire school that you absolutely loathe, it’s the world-renowned model actor blah blah blah Vil. He cannot stand your flippant attitude and you cannot stand his everything.

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

Vil does not know who Jesus Christ is, but I assure you that if he did, the name would be on his tongue 24/7. You don’t stand a chance in a verbal or physical fight with Vil, so you’ve learned to settle for making stupid comments behind his back. That he can still hear. He finds you very frustrating to work with, but he does love a challenge. You’ll learn to be more elegant by the time he’s done with you (you will not).

Part of the ‘does not give a fuck’ club. Whatever mess you find yourself in is your business, do you understand? He’s not one for spoon feeding, potato, so all your problems are your own to bear. Vil thinks that basing everything off intuition and instinct is straight up barbaric, but unfortunately for both you and him, you can’t be moved to Savanaclaw.

What are you, an animal? He can understand not wanting other people to touch your possessions, but must you hiss like some sort of raccoon? Fine, he’ll back off if he must. Your possessiveness of people doesn’t escape him, he just doesn’t think it’s any of his business. However, your actions now, in part, reflect Pomefiore which is under his rule and jurisdiction. Watch how you act.

It’s such an ugly feeling, and one that Vil refuses to define. And it’s Neige again, why is it always Neige? He knows you’re close but must you be that close? You’re always against people being in your ‘bubble’, so when he sees you all over that doe-eyed rival of his, it leaves him seething. Stop holding his hand, stop whispering so close to his ear, stop ignoring Vil…please…

Love story climax:

“Mira, Mira, who is the most beautiful of them all?”

Since he already knows the answer, why does he keep asking? Vil’s never pegged himself as a masochist. Then, what the hell is he doing to himself?

“Searching. The account with most comments tagged as beautiful, Neige LeBlanche.”

…Of course.

Why is it that Neige can get what he can’t have every single time? He works just as hard, doesn’t he? If not more. Neige is the protagonist, Vil is the antagonist. Neige is the hero, Vil is the villain. Neige is your best friend.

Who is Vil to you? Do you even think about him half the amount of times that he thinks of you? Is he a stranger? An acquaintance? A naggy dorm leader that you wish to avoid as much as possible?

He’s come second to your best friend one too many times.

He’s not giving up your heart, not to Neige, not to anyone.

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

Congratulations, you’ve been upgraded from annoying (derogatory) to annoying (affectionate)! While he doesn’t enjoy your cattiness too much, Vil does like a bit of bite. He’ll indulge you just a little, everything’s fine in moderation, after all. Just make sure you know when to tone it down, darling.

Vil is a responsible person, and he expects you to be responsible too. If you pick a fight all on your own, he has no qualms letting you face the consequences by yourself. But he’s not heartless. If it really is too much for you to handle, or if it’s not your fault, he’s more than happy to help you mediate things (or beat someone up idk).

Jealousy isn’t pretty, but he rather likes the color on you. This man is beloved by literal millions so you’ll have a hard time keeping him all to yourself. But if it’s any consolation, his love is all yours, alright? Vil wouldn’t mind a possessive lover just as long as you know your place. If you think of him as part of your territory? Well, why not?

Vil Schoenheit has a reputation to keep. He can’t just let you do whatever; he’s a public figure. So all your lovey dovey-ing will have to wait until you and him are behind closed, locked, chained doors with shut windows covered by heavy curtains, do you understand? If you do, then feel free to adore him as much as you want to. He will return your affection in kind.

“I didn’t notice you there, sorry!”

“It’s fine…gosh these normies are so clumsy, can’t even walk without tripping over their own feet…though I guess I’m not one to talk.”

Your sense of hearing has an impeccable range, at least, more than enough to hear this walking matchstick’s grumbling that he’d likely meant to keep to himself. You glare at him and push Neige back, rolling up your sleeves. This guy might be tall, but he’ll bend to your level with a nice kick at the groin. “What’d you call my friend, you blue-raspberry-flavored lightstick?”

“Y/N, stop it!”

He squealed, seemingly panicking as he backed away. “What the, I say a few words and you pick a fight irl? That’s so lame.”

“I swear to the Seven if another stupid word leaves your—”

“Threat detected.”

A cute, blue-haired (blue-flamed?) robot kid is pointing some pretty big laser guns your way, so you’re forced to take a step back, watching him slowly lower them. “Hello, please refrain from threatening my big brother, or I’ll have to annihilate you.” The kid warns you with a chipper tone of voice, but he’s glaring at you harshly.

“Y/N,” Neige whispers, “let’s just go.”

You weigh your options and decide that, even though you can probably take that six-foot gremlin, it’s very unlikely you’ll come out unscathed with the adorable death machine in the mix. You send the man one last glare while your friend pulls you away from possible homicide.

Exchange program:

The greenhouse going up in flames was definitely not your fault. Uh, totally unrelated sentence aside, you’ve been chosen to represent RSA to go on an exchange student program to NRC. Because no one from Ignihyde was at the meeting (physically), they couldn’t exactly turn you down. Most people ignored the panicking tablet, anyway.

Ortho is a sweetheart, you’ve found, when you’re not threatening to de-ball his beloved older brother. But the catch is that you can’t spend much time with him without also spending time with Idia. Which, ew.

Your housewarden is someone you barely ever saw. But you’ve taken it upon yourself to annoy him as much as humanly possible (no you’re not petty who said that), so you usually camp outside his door to spook him from ever leaving. This escalates to occasional talks through the door, which turns into him slipping you a controller, to him realizing you can’t play if you don’t see the screen, to actually letting you hang out in his room.

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

Make no mistake, Idia’s tongue is just as poisonous as yours, if not more. The combination usually leads to trash talk that once made Ortho splash the two of you with cold water. He thinks you’re funny, but you’re both petty so most verbal fights turn to you two swatting at each other like children.

Bro, don’t you have a strategy for every level? You can’t win if you just wing it all the time, y’know? Idia’s the type of gamer who spends several hours at a game’s wiki page just to find the best route to the finish line, so you being as you are kinda gives him a headache. And look, he’s not helping you out, okay? None of his business.

What…you chill in his room but don’t let him have some of your honey butter potato chips? That’s lame af, but like whatever. He notices the people thing when he sees you through one of the cameras (that he did not plant nuh uh) in school, about to commit murder because someone called Ortho things neither you nor Idia appreciate. Hey, he’s rooting for you.

It took him like three weeks just to be able to sit two meters away from you without you bitching about it, so Idia is, understandably, a bit peeved when he sees you practically when he finds you hugging Ortho. He shouldn’t be annoyed, it’s Ortho, for sevens’ sake! But it’s not like he can just stop feeling frustrated. He can’t stop feeling disappointed. He can’t stop feeling…wait, what is he feeling? Jealousy? No! Absolutely not!

Love story climax:

He has to look away when you turn your head, lest he get caught in the act of totally-not-staring. He tries to focus on the game and on the way his character is moving on the screen.

But why is it that he feels like it’s a waste of time?

He loves gaming! The online world is his passion, his everything. But when you’re sitting right beside him, he thinks he’d prefer to admire you, adore you, instead of beating his high score at Kingdom Odyssey: Rise of Dragonheart. He takes another peek at your pretty face, glowing by the light of the screen. Your features morph into one of excitement, and he feels his heart lightening too when he catches your bright smile.

“I won! You lost, suck it!”

He doesn’t even mind you gloating, because your smug smirk is just…

Ew. Gross. Blegh.

It’s like he got turned into a shoujo manga character right there. Idia turns back to the screen. “Dumb luck, noob. Next round it’s gg for you.”

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

He doesn’t fight with you as often…but he still fights with you. Nothing serious of course, but trolling each other has become as much of a love language as quality time is. Idia really does enjoy trash talking with you the most, if only because you turn it into a competition. When you lose, he makes you do something silly. Like uh, marrying his character in Sunfall Brookes…

Worry not! Idia, being the super awesome and totally cool genius he is, has whipped something up so that Ortho is behind you at every turn. He can’t support your stupidity irl most of the time, but having his little brother (who is fully equipped with deadly laser guns) back you up is probably good enough. So it’s fine, you’re fine, worse comes to worst Ortho’ll pick you up and fly you right back to your loving boyfriend (who may or may not be waiting to hear about your stupid actions).

While you do share your potato chips now, it seems to have become a bit more troublesome. Like, what do you mean does he love Moonkiss Eclipse the Magical Sparkle Girl more than you? Of course he loves you more (pssssst Ortho can you hide the body pillow before my s/o pops me into a body bag). Your main enemy will be the thousands of fictional characters that Idia loves, so good luck!

Idia’s not like, super great at public displays of affection. He’s not great in public, in general. Your clinginess and kisses and whatnot will have to wait until you’re back at either his or your room, ‘kay? It’s worth it though, you get to see a shy, blushy Idia with flaming pink hair.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“I AM FINE, HUMAN! YOU CANNOT INJURE ME WITH YOUR WEAK HUMAN BODY!”

Neige’s sheepish apology is met with a loud, annoying, obnoxious response. It makes you want to deck the green haired man in the face just for damaging your eardrums. “Hey, cut it out, will you? You’re loud,” you click your tongue, glaring at him, “and very annoying.”

“HOW DARE YOU CALL ME ANNOYING, HUMAN?! I WILL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT I, SEBEK ZIGVOLT, ONE OF MALLEUS-SAMA’S MOST LOYAL RETAINERS, AM A FIGURE OF—”

You figure you’re unlikely to get anything useful out of this student whose head seems very deep inside his own ass. Just as you’re planning your escape route (or how to get away with murder), a voice that successfully stops the blabber arrives.

“Sebek?” a beautiful horned fae intercedes from the sidelines, “I thought you were with Silver and Lilia.”

“MY LIEGE!”

This is probably your cue to leave.

With your hand wrapped around Neige’s wrist, you whisk him far far away from this school’s legion of freaks. As good as the eye candy (the horned fae) was, another word from the green weirdo is bound to have you arrested after socking him in the gut.

“Y/N? Where are we going?” Neige asks hesitantly.

“To the cafe,” you answer curtly, “then after that we’re going right back for your SDC practice, okay? I cannot stand one more second with all these NRC students around.”

Exchange program:

RSA held a very, very random name drawing for the exchange student program, and surprise, it’s you! And apparently, during a housewarden meeting, Diasomnia offered to be your dorm during your stay (no one needs to know Diasomnia’s housewarden wasn’t there).

You start sort-of acquaintances with Silver, but he’s actually an amazing antithesis to you. Since, you know, you’re always blazing in your fiery temper and he’s just…asleep. Maybe not antithesis. Anyway he’s a good friend.

Being in the same dorm as Sebek does not make you tolerate him more. In fact, you butt heads so much that Lilia’s assigned someone in Diasomnia to always be watching the two of you when in the same room. Lilia is cool, he’s cute, he’s super fun. You get along nicely with him once you’ve gotten used to being jumpscared.

Malleus, to be honest, you barely ever saw. He’s a bit stuck in his own world, and it’s not as if you cross paths often in your schedule. He’s more a bystander in your world before something (a fight with one of his retainers, you can guess which one) happens, and you finally manage to call him a ‘friend’.

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

My, you’ve got quite some courage, saying those things in front of the Prince of Briar Valley. Malleus doesn’t mind though, in fact, he welcomes it. He sees it as a sign that you’re friends. After all, none too many would do as you do and sass him, saying such crude and bold words. As long as you don’t cross a line, the fae prince will smile with a ready retort in light fun.

He thinks your antics are amusing, to say the least. But you know that thing where his superiority complex kind of comes out every once in a while? Yeah, he sees you as entertaining. Kinda condescending. The good thing about this is that he doesn’t get mad at the situations you find yourself in, plus it only takes a snap of his fingers to clean up your mess. The bad thing is that you feel like half a court jester.

Malleus understands your natural instinct to claim some place and things as territory. He’s a dragon fae, after all, and those myths and legends of their greed do hold some degree of merit. This extends to people? How interesting. Watches on with amusement as you tackle a student to the ground for calling Lilia ‘weird’.

In all his years of living, this is the first time that anything has made him feel this way. There’s a bitter taste lingering on the back of his tongue, and neon green sparks curl and flicker around his fingers. It’s out of his control, he can’t help it; you’re so unbelievably unlike yourself right now it’s driving him insane. Why would you cuddle with Silver under a tree like this? Do you feel something for his knight? Thunder rumbles in the distance.

Love story climax:

“Beloved.”

The word is strange, weighing heavily on his lips. And yet, as he watches your sleeping figure, mind almost subconsciously erasing Silver from the picture, he finds it to be a word befitting of you. Lovely. “It will be dark soon,” Malleus whispers, and the prince is brought to his knees next to you if only so that you may hear his yearning, “it is best to return indoors and sleep there.”

Your eyes flutter open; you are a vision he cannot ever hope to erase from his mind.

“Sorry, I was,” you let out a soft yawn, stretching your limbs, “I got really tired from PE. Oh, I should wake up Silver.”

Malleus can’t help the lightning that zooms across his fingertips. You didn’t seem to notice the term he’d used for you, still addled from sleep. You’re focused on gently shaking his retainer awake.

It matters not, for you will be his soon enough.

(How could you ever hope to be more territorial than a dragon, dearest?)

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

Being assertive and straightforward with your words is a great trait of rulers, beloved (yeah, in a relationship means he’s planning for marriage babe, keep up). Sass and sarcasm will have to be taken down a notch though, although he loves you, the faes in Briar Valley are old and not very accommodating of your hobby of wordplay. He does enjoy it, however, so feel free to speak as you wish when the two of you are alone.

In this kind of situation, he babies you a lot more. It’s not really condescension though, he believes that you can handle yourself especially since he now sees you as an equal. But Malleus is highly, if not overly, indulgent of the one he loves. Sees no need to change it unless something big happens. Is more liable to clean up after your messes, this time out of love.

Malleus thinks you’re so adorable when you’re jealous, with the way you get so fussy and protective over him. It’s not as if you really have a reason for jealousy, the prince is less ‘lusted after by many suitors’ and more feared. At least, that’s what he believes. So you only have Lilia and Silver to comfort you after a long day of fighting with his many many admirers.

Have a sense of decorum, dear, a public place is not suitable for displays of affection. Or so he says, but really, who is Malleus to stop you if you wish to be loving and sweet? He’ll melt faster than you can even say his name. He will have to hold back on reciprocating temporarily, but rest assured he has a mental tally and will be repaying you threefold once you’re in his private quarters.

[ghxstwrites]

Forgive Me Father

Pairing: Priest! Yunho x GN! Reader

Summary: It’d been forever since you stepped into a church, but after one too many life altering events, a friend suggested confessing as a last resort, and it turns out you got more than you prayed for. 

WC: 2.6k

AU: Religion! Au

Genre: smidgen of Angst, Smutty smut smut smut, porn with plot

Warning(s): Smut! MDNI! priest kink went brrrrr with this man, dacryphilia, impact play, lotttsss of degradation, lil bit of praise, discussion of religion and blasphemous acts, reader can be a bit of a smartass, unprotected sex (that's not very holy… wrap it up) - sorry if i'm missing anything!

A/N: Well, I wont ever see Heaven after this. Thank you to @bunnliix for the proofread and help on this one, also @skzdust for you Catholicism knowledge, big shout out to @kpop---scenarios for the title!

Nets: @mirohs-aurora-society

Tag List: @bethelighthalazia @a---shura @kpop---scenarios @autieofthevalley @wisejudgedragonhairdo (send me an ask if you'd like to be added!)

Kinktober & Flufftober Masterlist

It felt like one thing after another, your fiancé ran away with their co-worker and work had eliminated your position, and you’d lost what was supposed to be a lifelong friend in the process, it felt like something was out to get you. You’d tried everything to help clear any negative thoughts with every feasible solution you’d been recommended when searching the internet.

Journaling? Didn’t work - after you’d nearly jammed the pen through one of the books writing all the warning signs down after your fiancé left, and ruined another with tears talking about your friend.

Yoga and Meditation? Nope, after 3 sessions you decided being alone with your thoughts was definitely not the route you wanted to take.

Blasting your favorite songs? It worked… until the song you were going to use as your first dance at your wedding came on. Your speaker went through the open window right before you cried yourself to sleep that night. 

Which brings you to today, a group of your friends had decided to invite you out to lunch, the first time you’d really seen the world had set its sights on you. 

“Oh sweetheart…,” your friend cooed at you across the table, it sounded like she was mocking you at first, despite you knowing she wasn’t, you weren’t convinced she had an evil bone in her body. “Listen… I know it isn’t usually your thing, but.. Have you thought about church? Or even going to confessionals? They don’t really talk to you, the priest just listens…. Once you're done he offers solutions and if you use them, great. If not, no harm no foul?” she shrugs her shoulders unsure of her own words to you. 

You contemplated for a minute “You’re right it isn’t my thing, I don't really get how sitting next to a stranger who’s whole personality is religious context, talking to him like you’re talking to air…but if it works for you, that's great… for you,” You, admittedly a little harsh, reply back to her. 

Late one night you’d sat on your bed looking for jobs on your laptop, and with every passing one you’d grown more frustrated, you either didn’t have matching qualifications, they wanted a better degree or they weren’t even paying a livable wage. 

“Fuck this,” you huff out as you close your laptop, shoving it off your lap and fall back in bed. You’d pull your hoodie over your face as you listen to the sound of rainfall hit your apartment window and your friends' words ring back in your brain, what else did you really have to lose? Talking to a stranger who knows nothing about you and would likely never see you again, huffing you get dressed and head over to your local church.

Walking in, you take note of the admittedly beautiful surroundings, stained glass windows, marble statues, all of it was cloaked in darkness as night had fallen, but the moon light cascaded through the windows beautifully. 

You took a moment to look around, familiarizing yourself with your surroundings as it had been years since you’d entered a church. Wooden pews, rich velvet red floors, as dated as it may look, it was beautiful. 

It wasn’t long before your eyes fell on the confessional, a wooden box in the far corner of the room, sighing to yourself, you walked toward it. You slowly reach for the handle and open the door, you sit down in the booth as the silence is suddenly so loud. 

“What brings you here, Child?” A male voice spoke from the otherside of the grate.

Startled, you respond as calmly as you can. “I-I’m down on my luck and a friend suggested this… I’m hoping you can listen or help?”

The man spoke up once again “Very well, you may proceed.”

With a heavy sigh you proceed to recount the last few months of troubles to the man, feeling yourself getting angry and the tone shift slightly. You feel like you can dig your nails into the laminated wood you sat on, that same grit showing up in the way you speak.

“Easy child...” the man lulls out at you “There's no need to speak with such venom.”

The tone of his voice admittedly going straight to your core, but why? You don’t know anything about the young priest on the other side, other than exactly that, a young man who has devoted his life to the church, are you really that insane?

“Sorry sir -” 

“Please, refer to me as father, Father Yunho,” He cuts you off.

“Sorry Father…” you manage to say back, a calmness washing over your voice as you try to push those thoughts  to the back of your mind.

“Father, please help.” you whine out, feeling frustrated “I am at the end of my rope and nothing seems to be working,” you admit.

“I see… is that all you’d like to confess, child? I have a feeling there is more,” he all but whispers. 

The way his words fall from his mouth has you pushing your thighs together, his voice was as velvety as the floors of his church, delicate yet demanding.

“N-no father,” you say, barely above a whisper, when you hear a small chuckle on the other side.

“Very well, I sense that you need to reflect on yourself and perhaps your relationship with our savior, putting your faith in him may guide you to the path you are seeking,” he retorts back at you.

“Thank you Father.. For listening and.. Helping,” you sound pitiful, you felt as if you were about to cry

“If you feel the need to come back to confess anything further, I’m always here child.” he said back to you, his tone calm but with a hidden undertone to it that you couldn’t quite discern.

It had been a few weeks since you’d gone to visit Yunho, and out of everything you confessed that night, the one thing that stuck with you was the sound of his voice. 

The way it flowed like warm honey wouldn’t leave your head, what would your name sound like falling from those lips, the noises he’d make, maybe even… No, stop, he's a priest, he was there to listen and guide you and now all you can think about is the noises you could make him elicit.

You’d laid there, it’d been a rough day as several more rejection emails clogged your inbox, you think back to the young priest's words, full of encouragement - but the more they replayed the more you stirred, your hand guiding its way down your body, “Father please…” you’d softly moaned out as your hand dips into your shorts.

It had felt like the universe had given you a break, you’d been given a job offer, and a nice one at that, could this have been the divine intervention the young priest was talking about?

Despite the feeling of gratitude, and things looking up - there was still one thing in the back of your head. 

Father Yunho.

You found yourself back in the walls of the church late one evening, you’d just come from your first day of work and since the church was on the way home you wanted to stop in, if nothing else to pay your respects and close this chapter of your life. 

You’d sat down on the cold bench in the confessional. “Father Yunho? Are you there?”

“Oh it’s you again,” he speaks softly. He remembered me? “Is everything okay?”

That damn voice, the way it seeps out of his mouth, the way it makes you think the unholiest thoughts in the holiest of places.

“Y-yes… well yes and no,” you say to him “I was able to find a job, Today was my first day actually, I wanted to stop in and say  thank you…’ you trailed off

“And?” the young priest smirks to himself, he knows something else has brought you back - no one comes to confess a warm hearted thank you. “I feel as if there is still something you are withholding, child.”

“Please, call me Y/N…” you muster, trying to change the subject.

“Very well, Y/n,” he says, “Please, I will not force you but how can I help you if you do not confess what is plaguing you?”

Damn it. He has you cornered, you can’t back out of this now. 

“F-Father, please forgive me, but I.. I have sinned,” you whimper out. “Since the last time we spoke I.. I can’t stop thinking of you.” you confess to the young man sitting across the partition from you.

“Thinking of me? Thinking of me, how?” he asked you.

“I-” you choke on your own words, “Late at night.. When I replay your words, they start as encouragement and then I can’t help but think of what other sounds you can make.. I..” you look at the floor, embarrassed by your own confession, across the partition Yunho's face is getting hotter, and embarrassingly enough to him, his pants are getting tighter. 

When Yunho took the oath to be a faithful leader for Christ on the altar in this very church he made many vows, including celibacy, which never affected him until now. You, a seemingly innocent individual, came to him for advice, advice he was happy to offer to you, and now sitting across from you as you recount the blasphemous things you’d done while thinking about him, had made him feel things he’d never felt before.  

“Y/n, Pl-Please,” Yunho whined out

“I’m so sorry Father… I feel so ashamed at the amount of times I've gotten off to just the mere thought of your voice…” you feel the tears well up in your eyes.

Yunho is sat across from you and with every whimper and sob he feels it go straight to his dick, painfully aware of just how bad he’s affected you, as it’s now affecting him.

“Y-Y/n.. Please.. I…” he breathes out as his head tilts back against the confessional as he tries to push the thoughts out of his head, but now all he can think about is your tear stained face begging for forgiveness and he lets out a low moan. 

“Father are you… are you okay,” you lift your head to look at the mesh partition as if it were him. “I’m sorry if I…If i said too much.”

“Such- ah- filth should be reprimanded,” Yunho says through gritted teeth.

The sound goes straight to your core, causing you to press your thighs together in response.

“Father I -” Your words were cut short by the confessional door swinging open, leaving you face to face with the young priest. 

“You come into the house of Christ with such a perverted mouth and expect me to let you walk away?” He spat at you.”You are beyond saving Child,” as he pulls you out of the confessional and pushes you onto a nearby pew, leaving you shocked.

“The likes of you should be punished” he sits next to you and pulls you over his lap eliciting a yelp from you. His large hand comes down on your ass, the sound echoing through the church, causing you to cry out. 

“Quiet, you’ll take the punishment as penance for your sins, understood?” You let out a muffled sob “Now, Count.”

“One..” spank “T-Two,”  spank  “Th-Three,” you cry out as Yunho's broad hand comes down on your ass, tears rolling down your face.

“Such a waste of obedience in such a disobedient slut,” he says to you, gently massaging your asscheek from the smacks. 

“On your Knees,” you quickly move to place yourself on the ground. “Years ago, I vowed to Christ I would serve him in all his glory, I vowed obedience, poverty and celibacy.. And then my only thanks is to be sent a filthy slut to break me of those vows.” he spits as he removes his robe, and makes quick work of his belt. You sat back watching his every move, eyes eventually finding the tent that had been forming in his slacks.

“Father.. Please… please forgive me,” you sob up at him. “Quiet, you’ll speak when spoken too, understand?” he looks down at you. “Yes, Father” you squeak out as he smirks. “That’s better…” he reaches out to cup your face, wiping the stray tear away. ‘Now, why don’t you put this pretty mouth to good use?” he coos at you, tracing your lower lip with his thumb. 

Leaning back, he pulls out his aching cock, you lean forward and give him and give him a couple experimental pumps, which draws a beautiful noise out of the taller man before taking him completely in your mouth. 

The warm wet feeling has him in shambles, he’s putting all of his focus into not cumming down your throat immediately as you expertly work his length, his hand finding your hair as he attempts to take control of the situation. 

“There you go…” He lulls out, as his mouth drops open, as an unfamiliar pit starts forming in the pit of his stomach. He can feel it building as you bob your head up and down his cock, his grip on your hair tightening as he feels himself getting close, he pulls you away from him, using the hand in your hair to make you look up at him. Drool trailing out of your mouth as you look at him with slightly glassy eyes.

Looking at you, a switch flips in his mind, “So pretty, so obedient for me,” he says barely above a whisper as a smirk forms on his face. “Up, I’m not finished with you,” he pulls you to your feet as he stands up, leading you up to the altar, he forces you over it as he kicks your feet apart, he reaches for your hair, pulling it forcing it to look up. In front of you is a large marble statue of Christ. 

“To make sure you know just what you’ve done, I want you to see him,” he says sternly as tears well in your eyes again, before you can form a reply you feel Yunho’s cock slide into you, bottoming out rather quickly. The young priest throws his head back as his fingertips dig into your hip, causing you both to moan. Yunho pulls out slowly before ramming himself back into you, setting a rough pace. 

 “Father.. P-Please” you beg as his grip on your hair tightens. “F-uck please.. I can’t last much longer like this, Father please,” tears stream down your face as you stare at the marble statue in front of you.

“Not my favorite sinner begging for forgiveness now” he quips at you, his pace slowing down “Tell me exactly why I should forgive you for the sin you’ve brought into this church? Before our Lord and savior?” He punctuated each word with a sharp thrust. “How pathetic, now you’re crying?” he smirks as he pulls you back, body flush with his “Go on, let go.. Show me how much you really are sorry,” He coos in your ear. 

“Father - I.. I” your mind goes blank, your orgasm hits you like a ton of bricks with one final thrust from Yunho, his name falling from your lips like hymns on a Sunday morning, he lets go of your hair, causing you to fall forward onto the altar as he pulls out of you, painting your back in his seed. The feeling of his seed on your back makes you shudder, the aftershocks of your orgasm pulling the energy out of you as you lay on the altar. Catching his breath, Yunho looks down at you, covered in his release and smirks.

”Whoever conceals their sins, does not prosper,” He breathes out  “but one who confesses it finds mercy.”

[upon-a-starry-night]

There's this idea in my head that's causing real brain rot. So that one time, when Connor and Hank are on the rooftop, and he almost kills Hank? Can I request something like that, but with an f! reader? Maybe f! reader is on the deviant's side, and Amanda has already taken over, as a result, fight ensues. Major hurt/comfort. You choose how this ends. Thank you in advance 😭

Connor Rk800 x Gender Neutral Reader!

DBH Masterlist Main Masterlist

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, angst, minor violence

A/n: I always thought Connor should’ve had another chance to become deviant at this rooftop scene so this is the perfect opportunity to write it! I hope you enjoy!

-

The night air is cold as you step out onto the roof, a distant alarm blaring as it fights to be heard against the harsh wind. 

You flinch and pull your coat tighter, watching your breath fog out in front of you, snow scattering in every direction. It’s a night you’d rather be spending in the warmth of your home, curled up with a good book and good company. Unfortunately, your good company chose to go bad cop on you and now you’re out here trying to get him back.

You can already feel your fingers growing numb and you regret not bringing gloves up here with you. As if life being a detective wasn’t hard enough.

You squint at the light illuminating from the giant Android billboard and instead focus your gaze on the figure near the edge of the roof. It’s the last place you want to see him right now. On this roof- on the wrong side of history. Making a mistake you know he’ll regret.

It’s all you can do to hope you’ll be able to convince him to come back. 

You don’t know what happened. One day he’s kind and funny and even a little flirty and the next he’s cold and calculating. Had he just been pretending the whole time? Did he tell you all those sweet things just to eliminate you as a threat to his mission? 

Whatever the reason, even if he was faking it with you you weren’t faking it with him. Over the past few months, you’ve formed a genuine connection with Connor. A connection you thought was more than just partners working on the same case. 

You think back to all those late nights Connor stayed up with you as you wrote your reports, cracking jokes so the police precinct felt a little less cold and dim. The time he helped you move your furniture after your previous apartment almost got broken into. The little moments where he’d walk you to your car no matter the time, or go out of his way to pick you up a coffee.

That couldn’t have been fake, right? Nobody went through that much effort just to make sure you were friends. It was because of the way he treated you and cared for you that you found yourself in love with him in the first place.

You sucked in a sharp breath and shook that thought from your head. You’d only just realized it last night. You’d planned to tell him today but something about him was different, he didn’t look at you the same way, though his body still lingered near yours. Then you’d gotten the call this evening about where he was headed and you knew you had to stop him.

The Connor you knew wouldn’t do this. But maybe the Connor you knew wasn’t real…

“You don’t want to do this Connor” He doesn’t even flinch at your voice. He probably heard you from the second you got there and was just waiting for you to say something. 

Perhaps that was a sign? Your Connor was always polite with you.

“You shouldn’t be here, Detective.” His voice bites at you with more coldness than the night air and it makes your heart sting. It’s a tone you’ve only ever heard him use with suspects or Gavin. Even when you first met and he seemed devoid of emotion his voice was warm, friendly. What happened?

Was it something you had done? Something you said that gave away your feelings about him? He was built to read body language and pick up on subtle clues after all. Had he known even before you? Was he disgusted by you? That a human like you could fall so easily for an Android?

He shifts the position of his gun, getting a better shot on Marcus and you take another step forward, if you could just reach him then maybe-

“You won’t stop me from accomplishing my mission.” Him and his stupid mission. It’s all he ever used to talk about before he started being open with you. You thought you’d become more important than his mission. Guess not.

“What mission Connor? What? You think you shoot this guy and it’s all over? The whole rebellion falls down? Is that it?” You scoff, shoving your hands into your coat pockets to try and garner some warmth. “You shoot Marcus, someone else will just take his place. Do you really want to spend your life hunting down Androids until you’re the only one left with a soul?”

He doesn't speak but you see the way he squeezes the gun tighter, your words clearly having an internal impact. 

“Come home Connor,” You say it out of instinct, your home had become a shared space with Connor, a place he knew you’d always welcome him into. “We can find a good movie and-”

“And what? Huh? Sit there and pretend like we could be anything other than a human and a machine?” His words cut deep, slicing your heart open and revealing all the ugly fears that had been festering in your brain. The urge to throw up fills your stomach but you push the feeling down.

What Connor thought you could or couldn’t be didn’t matter right now. Even if it hurt, you had to make sure you stopped him no matter what.

He places his finger on the trigger and you know you have to resort to the last thing you wanted to do. The last thing you thought you’d ever do to Connor. You pull out your gun and aim it at his back. Emotions well up in your throat as tears threaten to break free

“Get away from the ledge” You wish he couldn’t hear how your voice trembles but you know he does. You don’t know if you have the gall to shoot him and he knows that. Still, he stands up and turns around to face you anyway.

It’s the worst sight in the world- the image of him in front of the barrel of your gun. His eyes are cold and unrecognizable, and you take note of the fact that he doesn’t drop his gun. A strong breeze roars through and you shiver, watching the wind ruffle his hair.

The same hair he used to let you brush your fingers through as you spent hours talking on your couch. His head in your lap, his eyes closed, his LED spinning blue, and a content smile on his face. You remember wanting to take a picture of how cute he looked then, just like a happy puppy. 

Oh, how things change. 

Your hand shakes as you hold the gun, maybe from the cold, maybe from the anguish, probably from both. 

“Go home detective. It’s not my mission to kill you but this is none of your business” You nearly flinch at the word ‘kill’ but manage to hold your resolve. You couldn’t show weakness in front of this version of Connor.

You scoff, “None of my business? You call you killing an innocent man none of my business?”

“It’s not a man. It’s a machine-”

“He has a family! He has people who care about him and depend on him! He has a partner and friends! Like you and I were-”

“We weren’t anything but coworkers Detective. If you thought we were more, you were mistaken.” He cuts you off with the words you feared to hear more than anything. Words he promised you he’d never say when he told you “I’ll always be here for you detective” with that stupid sunny smile of his.

Wiping a tear with your shoulder, you shake your head as you try to get a read on him.

”you don’t mean that”

“I think I do” He tilts his head, in a way you always found cute but now just find menacing. 

“I can’t let you kill that man Connor” You tighten your hold on your gun and he narrows his eyes, sizing up whether or not he thinks you’ll shoot before going to put his gun down.

Your body relaxes slightly only to be met with the full force of his gun being thrown at you. You try to block it but it crashes into your arm, causing you to hiss out in pain. In the next second Connor is coming at you, disarming your gun and throwing it across the roof. 

You try to throw a punch but he swiftly blocks it, grabbing hold of your shoulder and throwing you to the ground. The impact is harsh and the cold only makes it worse. You can already feel the nasty bruise it’s going to leave but you don’t allow yourself time to dwell on it.

Grabbing a metal grate from nearby you launch it at Connor and use it as a moment of distraction, rushing towards your gun near the ledge of the roof with Connor hot on your heels.

Connor sweeps your legs from under you as you’re inches from the gun, sending you crashing to the ground in a fall that stings your palms. At least it helped that your hands were practically numb from the cold. 

Army crawling as hurriedly as you can, you manage to swipe your gun as it teeters precariously off the edge of the roof. In a motion that sends pain through your injured shoulder, you manage to flip onto your back and point your gun at Connor just as he stands directly over you. 

For a brief second, you can’t help but think that Connor was taking it easy on you, but then he smirks like an asshole and your flame of hope dies out

“You really gonna shoot me, detective?” The cocky disbelief in his eyes is the most emotion you’ve seen from him all day and in a moment of weakness, you hesitate because you’ve seen that look when Gavin throws his fits about Androids or when the other detectives think they can do his job better than him. Cocky was an emotion Connor didn’t often show but it always made you laugh.

He takes advantage of your moment of hesitation, twisting your gun from your hands and throwing it off the roof. It lands with a solid ‘clack’ in the snow below. You try to sweep his feet but he blocks your legs with his arm, grabbing them and pushing them to the ground. He reaches down and grabs you by the collar of your sweater, angling you so that you're dangling over a fall that would definitely kill and for the first time, you truly feel scared of Connor.

You struggle in his grip to no avail, eventually giving up as you stare into his eyes for what might be the last time. You feel tired and angry and heartbroken and you don’t have the energy to fight him anymore. You let the wind rage around you as you hold out your arms, daring him to drop you.

“Moment of truth Connor…what are you gonna do?” You struggle to catch your breath as his LED violently flashes red. “You gonna kill me for trying to be a good friend?” You wait for anything to happen, for him to throw you off the roof or respond but all he does is stand there staring blankly. His LED goes crazy, flashing from red to blue to yellow and back again, like he’s having some sort of internal struggle. 

His grip on you seems to loosen a bit and you inhale sharply “C-Connor” You cry out desperately and he gasps, his grip tightening as he pulls you into his body and clings tightly to you. He takes a few steps back from the roof, forcing your body to move with his as he brings you both back to safety.

His arms wrap around you in a tight embrace and you’re unsure what to feel until you hear his pained voice

“I’m sorry.” It’s more raw than you’ve ever heard it before and soon enough tears are streaming down your face as your arms reciprocate his hold. His hands clench tighter to your jacket at the sound of your sobs. “I’m so sorry i-” His voice breaks off and his chest starts shaking and you look up to see tears streaming down his face.

You’d never seen him cry before, you didn’t even know he was capable of it- and from the looks of it neither did he.

“A-amanda- she took control and I couldn’t-” His eyes refuse to focus on you, staring at the swirling snow behind you, so you release one arm to cup his face and bring his gaze down to yours. “I tried to kill you” He looks absolutely heartbroken at what he’s done and he quickly begins to scan you for injuries. His hands coming up to cup your jaw and tilt your face this way and that.

You manage a smile through your tears as you realize you have your Connor back. Relishing the gentle way he holds your face and the concern that never leaves his eyes as he looks over you. 

“No harm no foul” You attempt a joke and Connor’s lips quirk up for the briefest moment before his gaze zeros in on your shoulder and he frowns

“I hurt you” You pursed your lips, unable to deny that fact but not wanting to ruin the moment. Reaching up, you wipe the tears from his cheeks with a gentle hand, watching as he leans into your touch.

“It’ll heal.” You tell him instead, just happy to be bruised and safe rather than dead. “What happened back there?” He looks like he wants to say more about your injury but after reading the look in your eyes he drops it.

“ I broke free. I was stuck in this frozen garden for so long. I couldn’t control my own body or words but then I heard your voice and I had to save you” You lay your head on his chest once more, feeling the steady flow of Thirium pumping through his body, the cold long forgotten from your mind.

He rests his chin upon your head, pulling you into a hug once again. 

“You’re more important to me than any mission.” His voice trembles and it takes everything in you not to start crying again “I didn’t mean any of it- those awful things I said, I didn’t mean any of them… I Love you, Detective”

Your gaze snaps to Connors, a wide smile and a light blue blush dusting his cheeks. Those three words- three words ten minutes ago you were sure you’d never heard from him. You had to make sure you hadn’t misheard him 

“What?” your heart pounded in your chest

“I said I love you, detective” This was really happening. Connor loved you back. You couldn’t help the tears that fell at the genuine emotion in his voice.

“I love you too, Connor” A delighted laugh escapes you as you pull him in for a kiss, soft cold lips meeting yours. Sure this wasn’t your ideal confession but with Connor, nothing ever went as planned, and that was perfectly fine with you “Now let’s go home, it’s freezing up here”

-

A/n: peep me watching the roof scene over and over to get this right (and also just to admire Connor) ~ Starry

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddie-week.

Reach Out and Touch Someone

Day #7 - Prompt: Free Space | Word Count: 1500 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Alcohol | POV: Steve | Tags: AU, Wrong Number, Right Person Trope, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Meet-Cute

Steve dials the number messily scrawled on the scrap of paper. He’s nervous. He’s always nervous when he has to stick his neck out and make a move on a girl these days. 

Yeah, he did the first bit of legwork and got her number out at the bar last night. But he's fumbled the ball and failed enough times, Robin's loving, but accurate, "you suck" burned in his brain, that he's always leery to try again. He should be used to it by now, but it’s still uncomfortable and awkward, every goddamn time. If his friends weren't all fretting about his emotional well-being from being so terminally alone, he wouldn’t put forth half the effort anymore. 

He has Robin. He has his cat. He's happy. 

It rings three times before he hears it connect, “Hello?”

It’s a man’s voice, and he hesitates for just a moment, “I’m looking for, uh, Lyla?”

“Sorry, man. Wrong number.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I must have misdialed,” Steve says, a different kind of embarrassment. But this is one he can handle easier, for sure. So he pushed the wrong button somewhere along the way. His eyesight isn't the best thing he's got going for him.

“No worries, man,” the other guy laughs, seemingly carefree about being bothered.

They each disconnect and then Steve reads, and re-reads, the number before dialing again. More carefully this time.

It rings only once before it’s connected.

“Still me, dude,” the familiar voice relays, still light and friendly.

“Wow. I’m so sorry. Clearly, I was given a fake number. That's embarrassing,” Steve laughs, because this is more embarrassing than misdialing. He's uncomfortable and mortified to admit that this girl just didn't want him to call her. Even if he's only admitting it to a stranger.

She should have just told him no. He hates that she didn't, for her sake, too.

“Shitty move,” the other guy answers.

“Yeah, well. I'm sorry I bothered you. Again. I promise to cross-check any future numbers against yours before dialing, just in case.”

The guy laughs, "Well, now. Don't go to any trouble for my sake. Honestly,” and he doesn't sound put-out at all, “don’t worry about it. She clearly didn’t have the balls to just, be, like, honest. That sucks.”

Steve laughs, maybe if she'd had balls this wouldn't have happened at all. Most men feel more comfortable just saying no, he thinks, which is sad but true. He swings both ways, and maybe he should take this as a sign to lean the other way for a while. See if that works out any better for him. 

It probably won't, but he could try.

“There goes my big weekend plans,” Steve teases, uncertain why he does it, even as the words tumble out of his mouth. He needs to hang up the phone and let this guy get back to his own life.

“Dude. That's a problem I can solve. I’m gigging tonight. You have to come. Let me entertain you.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Whatever. I want to. Just show up. It’ll be a great story, will it not?”

It would be a great story. One he could even tell Robin to convince her he’s living a little, “I don’t even know your name. What if you’re a serial killer or something?”

“Yep, that’s me. Vicious killer,” the guy laughs, “I’m Eddie, man. And I’m a fucking ball to be around. You’ll want to take me up on this awesome offer. We’ll all be down at Hellfire Club around eight. Show up. If you think we’re murderous, you don’t have to follow us to any secondary, secluded locations.”

Hellfire Club is literally two blocks from Steve’s apartment. He's been past it countless times, but never inside. It's always dark. Like it's not even open, making him unsure about what kind of bar it is, it's so nondescript from the outside. Not to mention the name is a little intimidating. He'd half-convinced himself it's a BDSM club. 

But, now that he's been invited, he could just walk down and see what’s the what, “How will I know which guy you are?”

Eddie laughs, “You’ll know. Trust me.”

Steve has a hard time trusting anyone new these days, but Eddie seems friendly enough. 

Steve realizes he must have been quiet for too long, because Eddie starts talking again.

“I’ll have on a badass battle vest. Look for that. You'll see me. It's impossible not to. I promise.”

“Okay,” Steve agrees, even if he’s not sure what a battle vest even is.

“Now, are you going to tell me your name, or will that just be a surprise?” Eddie asks.

Steve laughs, “Steve. I’m Steve.”

“Well, I’ll see you later, Steve.”

Steve stands in front of his closet for far too long, trying to find something to wear that doesn’t look too nerdy. He assumes Eddie's cool. He sounded cool, and Steve may have been cool in high school, but these days he just keeps his head down and goes through life, content to be fairly unnoticed. He finally settles on a black t-shirt. Basic, classic. Timeless.

Boring. 

But that's a risk he's willing to take.

He walks down the street slowly and arrives around eight-thirty. The windows are still all blacked out, tinted to the point he can't see anything inside. There's just the neon sign with the Hellfire Club over the door.

When he pulls open the door, he's in a hallway that's painted all black, with a bouncer at the end, stationed at a door. Steve kind of wants to turn around, flee, but he doesn't. He's already here. He might as well at least see. Robin will kill him if he chickens out.

He gives his ID to the bouncer, and is directed down a staircase. He really hopes this isn't a sex club. 

It's not.

And as soon as he crosses the threshold into the bar, yes, he knows Eddie instantly. He’s gotta be the one on the bar, pouring shots directly into various mouths. Steve knows he could turn around right now and this adventure could end. But watching Eddie laughing and prancing up and down the bar with flourish, clearly having fun, makes Steve want to go up and meet this guy.

Steve takes an open seat at the end of the bar, kind of out of the way, and just watches Eddie work the crowd.

The bar is blaring It's Raining Men and Eddie is playing up the song, big time. He's not a stripper, at least Steve doesn't think he is, but he's working the crowd for tips, absolutely. He keeps handing them down to a curly-headed guy, who keeps stuffing them into an overflowing jar.

Steve's pretty sure this is a gay club, or at least queer friendly. Maybe he has found a place for himself, something that's been right here under his nose, all this time.

When Eddie finally jumps down off the bar, Steve watches him work the rest of the room.

The other guy comes over and takes Steve's order, and he doesn't quite have the same flourish, but he's efficient and confident with a bottle and jigger.

"Name for the tab?" he asks, shaking the drink Steve had picked from the list.

"Steve," Steve says, and the guy looks up and meets his eyes.

Surely not. This doesn't feel like this is Eddie. He is wearing a vest, a red plaid one, but the other guy also has a denim vest on, full of patches.

"Eddie?" Steve questions, needing to make sure.

"Gareth," the guy says, "that's Eddie," he clarifies, pointing at the one Steve had correctly clocked as Eddie to begin with. "You're his wrong number guy, right?"

Steve nods. He supposes that's what he is, "Yeah. That's me. Loser in love."

Gareth laughs, and it makes Steve smile.

"That's our specialty here, you'll feel right at home," Gareth teases.

"Glad to hear it."

"I'll tell him you're here," Gareth assures, "he wasn't sure you'd come."

"That makes two of us," Steve admits, and Gareth smiles as he finishes shaking Steve's drink, putting it down in front of him.

"On the house. First-timers to Hellfire drink free," Gareth says, and then he's walking away. 

Steve's eyes follow Gareth across the bar, watching as he taps Eddie on the shoulder, leaning close to his ear, pointing right at Steve.

Eddie looks, meets his eyes, and Steve raises his hand, giving him a small, little wiggle of his fingers.

A huge smile spreads across Eddie's face as he bounds in Steve's direction.

Eddie's quickly right in his personal space, squeezing both of Steve's shoulders, greeting him with a smile, "Welcome to Hellfire."

Steve smiles, liking the feeling of Eddie's hands bleeding through his t-shirt, warming him.

Eddie lets go, and Steve misses the feeling already, but Eddie stays. Sliding onto the stool next to Steve, "I'm glad you came."

And Steve's completely honest as he answers, "Me too."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddie-week and follow along with the fun!

Notes: If you're too young to remember it, reach out and touch someone was the slogan/jingle for Bell System telephone company back in the day. So, that's where the title comes from, as a play on the wrong number phone call trope.

[reblog-house]

A Little Catching Up

Written for Hermit-a-day-May, day 12: Friends of Hermits. Or: Lizzie! ALSO written for @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt 252, "Spill The Tea"

Wc: 1000

Ao3: Here!

It’d been a while since Lizzie last saw her husband in person, since he joined Hermitcraft. Good. That meant she was able to focus on other stuff that was on her mind. And it’s not like they never spoke, anyway.

At first, they called every day, but now it was every week or so, and every time she did, he had another story to tell. Apparently, there was something about… clones of himself? A murder mystery? A murder mystery about the clones of himself? Honestly, she stopped trying to disentangle that thing. She was happy not understanding and just hearing her husband ramble.

And then, Joel got the idea of traveling together in his brain — ‘To get some inspiration for my base, Lizzie’ — and she was more than willing to indulge him.

It was nice, getting to catch up properly, to spend some time together, before they each had to go to their respective servers. It was a much needed trip, and they got to see some very wonderful builds. She may not be pulling inspiration from it for her own creations, but she’d be lying if she said seeing all the views didn’t revitalize her a little.

It’d been less than a week since they parted ways and Lizzie was boiling a pot of tea when her phone rang. It was Joel.

“Hey babe,” she greeted, bringing the phone to her ear.

“Hey Lizzie, what are you doing right now?” He spoke very fast. “Because I want to tell you something weird and don’t want you to break something.”

“Eh, nothing special,” she said, and with her phone now supported by her shoulder, she picked up the kettle before it could whistle. “Hit me with it.”

“Remember how I told you Etho was obsessed with me?”

“Uh, duh.” She began pouring the liquid into her cup.

“Well, apparently there’s someone worse.”

“That’s possible?” She asked sarcastically. “Wow.”

“Lizzie. I came back to like seven love letters addressed to me, Lizzie. Seven anonymous love letters!”

Lizzie choked and her grip on the kettle got unsteady. It spilled a bit around the cup. “Oh, crap.” It could’ve fallen on her.

“I know, what the hell! And the worst part is, he was convinced we had something going on, because someone left a sign on his base pretending to be me!”

She openly laughed now, and set the kettle with a clank before the boiling water could drop on her. He continued his pleas.

“I’m married, Lizzie! To you! And when I told him I didn’t want anything to do with him that way, he sent me a poem. A poem, Lizzie!”

Lizzie was delighted. She picked the mug with both hands and walked to the living room with it as he spoke.

“Did he, now?” She sat back onto her favorite armchair and set the mug on the side table.

“And now!” He was quickly growing agitated. Not in a negative way. Joels needed some agitation for enrichment. An agitated Joel was a sign of a healthy husband. “The context is too complicated to explain, but now I’m stuck having to make an armor stand –”

“Oh, armor stands! Your shrine for me was adorable. And little you! Oh I could just squish his cheeks.”

“...Thank you Lizzie. Right. Now I have to make an armor stand of myself professing my love to him or whatever so he leaves me alone.”

“Ha! Oh Joel, only you.”

“Only me? Lizzie, have some compassion. I’m dying over here!”

“I don’t know…” She brought the mug to her face and checked the color. Still a couple more minutes before she could drink it. “That seems like a Joel problem to me.”

He groaned, and she could just imagine him covering his face with his hands in frustration. She loved seeing him suffer.

“Right, the worst wife. She doesn’t listen to my suffering. I’m doomed. I’m in pain and she doesn’t empathize.”

She laughed again. “Well, if I’m so horrible of a wife, I think it’s time to go, now! My tea will be ready any minute now.” And with the most cheerful of tones. “Bye Joel! Good luck with the number one fan!”

There was a little moment of silence, and when Joel spoke again, it was like he was a different person. All the acceleration left his voice and who remained was the man she’d know for most of her life, who she would take strolls along the beach with, who proposed to her, who she spent a wonderful time with on their most recent trip. 

“Bye babe. It was nice talking to you. It’s… it’s been a strange few days. I think the trip made me realize how much I missed you.”

She melted a little and didn’t try to hide it in her voice. “Oh, Joel. I can imagine. I miss you too. It’s been three months now, since you joined. Can you believe that?”

“And yet it sometimes feels like the first week. Like I’m still very new to it all. It’s so strange. How has time passed that fast but also so slow?”

“Something only the ruler of Stratos would know.”

“What- that… doesn’t make any sense. Why would I from-”

“I love you Joel.”

“Love you too, Lizzie. Right, I have some projects to be working on. Not the stupid statue. I’ll postpone that as much as possible. Maybe one day I can sneak you in so you could see how my base is coming along. See how the trip has helped me”

“I would like that. Just be careful of Xisuma noticing me!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll bring you in when he’s offline. Okay, bye now.”

“Bye!”

And like that, she ended the call.

It truly was nice to see him having fun on his new server and making new friends. If unwanted love letters counted as a new friend. She chuckled to herself. The situations that man got himself into, sometimes…

But she loved him all the same.

[joocomics]

ok so I come with txt and wayv thoughts that will be broken up between two asks but first can I PLEASE be tagged in the gunil and junhan fics for your event? I’m gonna check them all out but I’m extra excited for those two (especially professor gunil dear GOD)

Ok so wayv:

I think about service dom kun so much, like he’s always exuded “I’ll take care of you and all your needs” energy and that doesn’t stop in the bedroom (Kun has been my bias since 2020 so bear with me, I have a lot of thoughts)

he’d be hard to convince to edge you simply because he wants to give you every possible orgasm you could handle but he’d also be down to do it simply because it’s what you want him to do

I’m all for bratty sub ten AND mean dom ten, I believe in the duality of man and I have nothing else to say on the matter

Back to kun, he’s always given me sit back and let you do whatever you want to him vibes. Like until he’s so hard that he can’t take it anymore and he decides to take control, you could straddle him and get off on his thigh, make out with him until both of your mouths are literally tired, it doesn’t matter.

Hendery used to be my bias and I had a time period where I thought about him being a dom leaning switch so much it’s sick. Like he’d always prefer to be the dom but he would never say no if you wanted to take control for the night

Yangyang is the brattiest of bratty subs and I won’t take constructive criticism on that one. Like being that bratty wouldn’t even necessary turn him on that much more than not being a brat, he just does it for fun and to see you get pissed off because he likes it when you get mean

I would love to provide something about winwin but he’s one of those people my brain has never thought about sexually. Don’t get it mistaken though, I want him.

Actually I just remembered a friend telling me she thinks he’d be a hard dom because, in her words, “he’s way too emotionally controlled in 4k to not have a bitch he’s fucking ruthlessly at home” and I have to agree

Xiaojun also gives me switch energy (emphasis on hard dom and good little whiny sub) but you didn’t hear that from me (I’d scream it from the rooftops if it was socially acceptable)

first off, thank you SO freaking much for feeding me this well oh my god??? your mind??? and yes, of course you can, i’m adding you straight away! tysm for the support i hope you enjoy reading them <3

service dom!kun who’s overstimulation > edging sounds exactly like him and sounds amazing; especially if we mix it with your other thought about him letting you do whatever you want to him during your long heated foreplay. you’ve been kissing till your lips are puffy with a tint of red and till he’s solid hard in his pants from your on-going grinding which his hands thoroughly supported by remaining present and firm on your hips

but before that, your mouth was all over his body - up and down his bare chest, marking his pale skin with lipstick stains and possessive hickeys, because how can you not get obsessive over that body? service dom!kun seeing you gush and drool over his figure with the urge to leave physical signs that it’s all yours unlocks his body worship kink every time

it makes sense that after he gets his hands on you he can only keep going; expressing his affection and gratitude by giving you an orgasm after an orgasm, mind numbing and toe curling orgasms that also result in his muscled back getting painted with red scratches. me thinks, he loves when your nails sink deeper and he can feel slight stinging pain, it only makes him thrust even harder

unlike kun i can see dom!ten having so much fun edging you; doesn’t matter if it’s with his fingers (and i can bet they got skills), with his cock or a toy, he loves stealing those good orgasms away from you and watching you squirm and beg. he uses the moment of you catching your breath to make it even more of a challenge for you by running his nails up and down your skin, spanking you and biting different parts of your aroused body because that’s what sluts like you get

i agree on ten being both bratty sub and a mean dom, but i just can’t bring myself to focus on his submissive side right now when all on my mind after those emo teaser pics is him fucking your mouth and slapping you every time you gag or pull back before he told you to. he can be so mean, yanking your head back by pulling on your hair and relishing the way you drool on the floor

ten seems like the type of boyfriend to buy a dildo so he can teach you how to deepthroat properly and he will not go easy on you - because you’re not gonna use it yourself, he’ll be the one pushing it in and out of your mouth while you earn condescending comments on how small it is

gonna try to not to be biased here, but for me hendery is definitely a dom who loves giving and receiving equally, it all depends on the mood really. definitely doesn’t mind swallowing his pride and going submissive for you whenever you want it. he can be cheeky and disobey you few times for the giggles but eventually falls apart cause you know all his weak spots </3 he’s so vocal when he stays still, letting you play with him however you like, it’s beautiful

ah you are speaking my language… we are so on the same wavelength so far it’s crazy. yangyang is the perfect brat and he can be so annoying (in an arousing way) when he’s submissive, but he can also be so annoying when he’s dominant? he gets off on a heated sex where you’re at each other’s throats (literally and metaphorically). being rough and perverse with one another, challenging each other instead of giving yourselves what you want the easy way. bantering and calling each other names. he can get nasty and he’s obsessed that you can match his freak and be the same amount of nasty. the fact you’re deeply in love makes all of these things even more exciting to experience

cannot continue the post without mentioning how freaking hot makeup sex with yangyang would be 🫠 personally, i’m not one who believes makeup sex is the “best sex of your life”, but i know he can change my mind. it would be intense, sweaty, loud, maddening. he’d be gripping you tightly, cussing and biting your lip and you’d be able to taste that he’s still affected from the argument. bonus points if you don’t even make it to the bedroom… you’re in the kitchen… or on the couch… or you were having a very serious talk in a cafe, but couldn’t bother waiting to arrive home so you end up doing it on the backseat of your/his car

every time i hear hard dom!winwin i shed a happy tear from excitement. i feel like there’s a pretty high chance that he wants to show you how dominant and powerful he can be. because he’s the cute, shy and soft spoken, giggly winwin, right? he can never be mean. well… that’s debatable. in the bedroom, where it’s just the two of you, and there’s lust and established trust, he unleashes a part of him that’s reserved only for you

i see him switching between obedient sub and hard dom because i can’t picture winwin as a soft dom to be honest. yes, he praises you and gazes at you in awe when you’re fucking in a slower rhythm, but even then the mood is on the playful nasty side, not on the romantic/sensual one. you’re always greedy for each other so sex with him is very rarely soft. he gets off on your naughty attitude which only encourages him further to freely express his own. winwin wants rough and obsessive and if you get it, you get it!

i would be right next to you on the rooftop if you decide to scream that xiaojun is both a hard dom and a whiny sub one day because i agree. i’ll be honest with you, i opened my heart to subby xiaojun rather recently and i think i’m changing as a person. he gives the vibes off someone who can be cheeky and so romantic during foreplay, but then half an hour later is on his knees unable to deny you a thing no matter how filthy it is, or dare i say, degrading…

but i’m very into the idea of him being a soft dom too - xiaojun can do it all and that’s just facts! especially early in the mornings whenever he wakes up next to you and you’re sleeping in his oversized shirt. in those moments he definitely swoons very hard over the realisation you’re all his, and he gets to kiss you every day. that’s when he touches you very softly and makes you roll your eyes back through a mellow, but nonetheless passionate sex

[a-bucket-of-trash]

And we see us again – Kelvin x Neutral Reader - One Shot

Prompt: Kelvin has recovered, time for a friendly visit.

Tags: Fluffy uwu

The last time you had seen Kelvin, it had been a couple of months ago, in the hospital, after having been finally rescued, after several months trapped in that hellish forest full of cannibals, mutants and an overpopulation of squirrels.

You had nothing more than superficial physical damage and poor nutrition, after consuming the tons of fish that he caught with inhuman skill, industrial quantity blueberries and the occasional legs that, in the winter season, gave you the opportunity to don’t starve.

Kelvin had it much worse, as his untreated brain injury had handicapped him over those months. Being on the island, you knew that the fact that his ears bleed on their own every couple of weeks was absolutely not a good thing, but in a place like this, there was nothing you could do but give him extra rest when you could, and cool down his head with a damp cloth. The fact that he had a fever along with the bleeding was a sign that something had become infected in his poor head, and the medicines you found lying around weren't the best, especially since most of them had already expired.

Still, the prognosis for him was pretty good. With proper treatment, medication and so on, within a few weeks his brain was working as it should, his hearing was beginning to return and he was finally articulating words. At least that's how you had seen on one of the last visits to the hospital. Maybe he would never be 100% the same as before, but, after what had happened, neither would you, and you hadn't had brain damage. You also needed treatment, especially psychological.

Forcing some of your contacts in the army, you got an address and, in that warm noon, you knocked on the light wooden door, seeing a familiar face open the door, and a pair of warm brown eyes smile in recognition.

"Permission to break your bones," he said, spreading his arms.

You laughed an "Affirmative" before giving him a hug, feeling how he squeezed you hard, almost lifting you into the air.

You had never been there, but you really wanted to visit your old friend of adventures and tragedies. Soon you were inside a very normal house, watching him walk back from the kitchen, a bottle of cold beer in each hand, pointing to the pale couch in the middle of the room, noticing the light coming in through the windows and the music playing in the background.

It was a little strange for you to see him moving fluidly and wearing a brown shirt and gray pants, shaved. Especially after months of seeing him dressed as a military and walking like a hasty duck.

You heard him sigh deeply, sitting down next to you, while you held your own beer.

"And well?" You asked, curious, “How are you? Getting better? You feel good?"

"What?" He pretended not to hear, to which he laughed as you smacked his leg firmly. “I'm fine, I'm fine. Little by little. I still don't hear as well as before, the doctors doubt that I will fully recover, but 90% is better than nothing. Possibly I will have a chronic headache from now on, and for another month I was forbidden to do any physical effort… The worst is the Post Traumatic Stress…” Kelvin shrugged and looked at you “And you? How did you find my house? Our mission was supposed to be… you know…”

"What mission?" You joked, taking a sip “I feel fine, except that now I'm terrified of flying… And well, you know, I can be a real pain in the butt. And I may have threatened to say things if they didn't give me your address."

"You're going to have them accuse you of Treason and end up in jail..." He shook his head softly "But I'm glad you convinced them" He looked at you out of the corner of his eye, smiling "After so much time together, let's just say that I've missed being ordered around by paper”

"I'm going to give you another concussion" You pushed him playfully, seeing him laugh, "I missed you too, puppy face... Did you get your memory back?"

“Mmmm…” He rubbed the back of his neck, wondering. “I don't remember anything about the week before the accident. I only have fragments of the first month, and I have more and more memories of the following months. The doctors say that I will not recover much more because of how my brain was then"

"Honestly, it's a relief" You sighed, looking at him "What happened to you was horrible, but it was also a horrible few months, it's better that you don't remember much"

“It was complicated, but not at all horrible” His brown eyes fixed on yours “You were there, I never felt alone or hopeless, despite the circumstances. I remember the hundreds of times you ran by with an ax in your hand, ripping off heads like you were possessed, but I also remember how you looked for a way to distract me, to make me feel useful, to cheer me up…”

"Don't start, please" You smiled, somewhat emotional "We already cried whole days, I don't need more..."

"You cried" He bothered you a little, smiling "Crybaby" He pushed you gently with his shoulder.

"Shut up" You laughed "You were the one who told me, crying, that you couldn't sleep in the hospital because you felt so alone"

"I still find it hard to sleep alone," He confessed.

“Mmmm” You sighed “Me too…” You remembered something and looked at him “In the end, I never found out your real name. Tell me to replace your code name, because it's already strange to call you Kelvin, Mr. Alpha Bravo Charlie"

“10.4” He laughed softly “But I've gotten used to being called Kelvin by now. It's going to seem strange to me that you suddenly call me Robert"

"Is your name Robert?" You laughed, denying "You don't have the face of a Robert"

"Affirmative, I'm going to change my name to one that matches my face," He joked, shaking his head, before slapping your knee "Keep calling me Kelvin"

“Kel…” You thought, in your own world inside your head.

"Hey" He gently drew your attention, touching your arm delicately "I know I thanked you a thousand times for keeping me alive, but thanks again"

"You're welcome, again" You smiled.

“Are you going to tell me what you saw in the caves?” He saw you deny “What? Why not? Military secret?

"Why do you want to know that?" You hesitated, taking a long drink of your beer.

"Don't fuck with me... If the times I saw a mutant on the island, I almost shit my pants, and you would happily go with your ax to cut off their heads or whatever the hell they had" Kelvin gestured widely with his bottle "You faced them! Like it was a picnic! And every time you left a cave, you came back beaten, without resources, with skin things hanging from your pockets… I want to know what the hell you saw for you to forbade me to accompany you down there��

“Rob… Kelvin” You put the beer down on the table “There was darker than a moose's butt, you were deaf. What was I supposed to do? Put a noose around your neck and walk among mutants as if you were a dog?

"I don't know…" He sighed, before drinking.

“Besides, if something happened to me in there, I knew that you were at the base, relatively safe…” You thought “Knowing that you were waiting for me back, somehow gave me the impetus to be extra careful, to make sure that I would come back to help you…”

Kelvin looked at you, half sad and half warm inside. You took care of him, even with your absences. The sound of his alarm clock woke him slightly, looking at the time, time for legal drugs. He slowly got up, to walk to a medicine box that was to one side, looking for what he had to take. He took out three different pills which he placed in his mouth and swallowed with a long sip of his beer.

"I'm going to kick your head until you even forget about your mother" You snorted angrily, seeing his surprised look "Idiot, don't mix drugs with alcohol. Are you still half stupid or what?"

"Ah" He chuckled, walking back to the couch "It's non-alcoholic beer, overprotective"

"Oh" You lowered your face from him, somewhat embarrassed, seeing him sit nearby.

You were still talking, when you remembered something else. You lifted the sleeve of your shirt, showing him a recent tattoo on your arm, below your shoulder. It was a skull with an ax stuck in it, very similar to the one you had used in all that time on the island. And next to both, what seemed to be a notepad, and on it, written: Survive.

Kelvin looked at it carefully, holding onto your arm a bit. He recognized that handwriting and even the design of the notepad, since he had read commands and suggestions in it, for months.

“It was going to be just the skull and the axe” You mentioned to him “But I didn't survive alone, on the contrary, I don't think I would have survived without you. So the notepad was in your honor."

Your name sounded tenderly on the lips of a Kelvin who had gotten quite touched and who hastened to give you one of his especially strong hugs.

"Silly..." He whispered, closing his eyes "Absurdly silly and cute... Even though at the time I saw you cutting off the testicles of all the cannibals you killed because you were in a bad mood..."

"Aren't you afraid of being next to me? Who knows, I might do the same to you” You smiled, rubbing his broad back.

"I don't sleep well since you're not by my side" He whispered again, holding you more, squeezing you against his chest "I feel safe with you... Calm... And... Everyone who found out I had some brain damage treats me as if now I had the mind of a two-year-old..." He growled softly, somewhat annoyed "I hate being pitied... I'm not incapacitated, I'm not stupid... But..." Kelvin sighed, rubbing his face gently against yours "You treat me like if nothing had happened... Even though you lived by my side, when I was at my worst... For you it's over, and you treat me as such, as myself... That reassures me so much..."

“Oh, Kelvin…” You hugged him tighter “You, at your worst, hurt and deaf, on a demon island, did more than anyone would have done in the same situation…” You tried to lift his spirits a little “I never saw anyone fish with their hands as well as you, you should dedicate yourself professionally to that”

You heard him laugh softly, still squeezing you, as if he was partially afraid to let you go, although it didn't bother you, he was warm and utterly huggable. You knew it well, since, on many cold nights on that island, it was only possible to sleep because you both stayed embraced, sharing warmth and softness.

“Could you…stay?” He asked, almost as if his voice were a distant instrument of the music that was still being heard over the speaker, not daring to move a muscle, “I don't know… Maybe… Maybe you'll let me take a nap like we used to do then? I miss sleeping… accompanied…”

"Me too" You whispered, with your eyes closed, with his clean perfume entering your lungs.

"And have dinner…? I promise there are no fish to eat, not this time.” The soldier teased sheepishly.

"Sounds like a good plan to me, big guy" You smiled "I have weird dreams about fish"

"I dream... of you" He murmured "I only sleep well... if I dream of you"

You stayed still for a moment. The way he spoke was mixing with the feeling of his hands running down your back, and his face rubbing tenderly against your cheek. You prayed that you weren't misreading the signs, you prayed that it wasn't your own confused brain, that mind that months ago had fallen in love with that soldier, and you moved your face slightly, to find that pair of soft lips that had brushed your jaw like the wings of a butterfly, landing on yours.

You were sure that both of you had kissed at the same time, so you stayed there, still in his arms, tasting that shy mouth that tasted faintly of antibiotics. Kelvin was slow to kiss, but that made him utterly sweet, cuddly, and overly romantic, as if he had the time in the world for that. You weren't in a hurry either, you spent a long time in his mouth, caressing his soft short hair, enjoying it, so that later he just hugged you, burying his face in your neck, taking a deep breath, soaking in your scent.

"I hate that I can't do physical effort for a month..." Kelvin growled, impatient "But you wait... As soon as I have the medical approval, I'm going to show you why I could cut wood for hours..."

Your laughter echoed both in the walls and in his ears.

[keirawantstocry]

May i request my brain goes blank for pacbo 👀

im ngl this one kinda got away from me a bit, i had a bit of this written ages ago and then i saw this request and go inspo to finish this with your request!

-

Pac loved men. It was something that had always been true of him. He just loved them so much. Honestly who wouldn't? There was so much to admire. Tall, dark, and handsome? Absolutely, sign him up please. Scowling and brooding? Another absolutely. Giggly and full of big smiles? A big hell yes as well. He had known since he was a teenager that he didn’t quite seem to view relationships the way other people did. That was made clear ages ago when one girl had asked him who he wanted to marry most. Looking back it was clear she was trying to flirt with him but he was 13 at the time and had no idea so he was honest. Squinted at her first before really truly considering it. 

“Mike,” he had said with all the confidence a 13 year old boy could possess. Mike, who was standing right beside him at the time, nodded much to the girl’s chagrin. 

She laughed a bit. “Não, nao. Isso não é…” she trailed off. “He’s your best friend. You don’t have romantic feelings for him.” 

Pac remembers blinking slowly at her. “What does romance have to do with it?” 

“That’s why people get married. For romance.” 

That didn’t make any sense to him and honestly to this day he believed the same. “Well I will get married for friendship then.” 

Even now he wasn’t quite sure what to call himself. Labels never seemed that important to him. He would love who he would love, be that in a kissing way or not. But he soon realized that he would kiss a whole hell of a lot of people. 

The island certainly wasn’t the start of that discovery but oh did it help because there were so. Many. Hot. Guys. Almost every day was just him internally panicking while Mike laughed at him over their internal mind link. 

He honestly thought it might calm down after he got with Fit. He loved that man so much and honestly wanted to spend the rest of his life with him. But oh men were still so attractive. 

The worst now for him was Tubbo. Those eyes were entrancing. Swirls of colors lived inside his eyes. Soft hair fell over his eyes in a tangled mess every day. Pac just wanted to run his hands through it until it was soft and untangled. Until Tubbo was looking at him softly with those wide blue-green eyes. Until his gaze was drifting down and Pac could catch those soft pink lips with his own. 

He smacked himself in the head when he realized he had been staring at the man in front of him for an uncomfortably long time. “I'm sorry what?” 

Those gorgeous eyes glittered back at him. “I said where's your head man, you keep zoning out.” 

“My brain goes blank when I look at you.” 

Tubbo stared at him, those deep eyes going wide. “I'm sorry?” 

“I…” Pac felt his face start to flush. “Well. You're botino. Pretty boy.” 

The tips of his ears went pink. “Oh. Thank you, Pac.” 

Pac averted his eyes and tried not to laugh. “Yeah, yeah no problem.” 

“I didn't uh realize you thought that.” 

Pac couldn't help but gape at him. “But you're so handsome.” 

“Nahhh,” Tubbo scoffed. “I. You don't have to say shit like that to me.” 

Pac couldn't help but grab Tubbo's face in his hands. His skin was so warm agaisnt his palms. “I am not just saying it.” 

He allowed himself to really study the man in front of him again. Get lost in those ocean eyes and the adorable flush on his cheeks. The feeling of his soft skin under his rough fingertips. “How can I convince you?” he asked. 

Tubbo shrugged but Pac watched as those eyes fell to his lips and his mouth nearly split open with the grin that followed. He surged forward to kiss the boy on the lips. The lips against his were chapped but tasted oh so nice. Every movement burned as Tubbo sighed against his mouth and fell into him. His mouth was opening and it was so warm. Damn near perfect. Life could not get any better than this.

[lyrenminth]

When we were together

Summary: You and Joe split and meet years after, he realized he fucked up and is mad/sad to see how happy you are without him and starting to regret he left you walk away. 

Warning: I mean Joe is a selfish prick is we look it objetively haha Grammar mistakes.

"I can't do this anymore, I'm sorry" you said, your fists tight, your stomach clenched in a tight knot. Many sleepless nights brought you here. You didn't know if you would regret one day, but today it was a decision taken consciously. "Are you serious?" Joe's inexpressive face hurt a little bit. He always has this pretty face and pinky lips you dreamed your children would have one day. "I'm breaking up with you, Joe" you stated, not making eye contact. After eight years together it was so uncommon for a WAG to leave this late, but since there was no ring and no signed papers leaving was easier.

“Why?" He raised his voice "Why are you leaving me?" You closed your eyes, trying not to cry. "Because it is better that way. We don't spend  many time together anyway, you are busy and I'm busy. That's it"

"That's it? It's what you have to say?" he frowned "And we spend time together"

"No, we don't and I don't want to discuss it" you contradict him. You had discussions about this topic all the time.

"Well, I want to. You can't leave me, we have been together eight years"

 "And that's enough for me" you said harshly, Joe expression was a hurt one, like you just slapped him. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude" you sighed, tired and wanting to be as far away from him as possible. You told you closest friends and your family in advance about your decision. You friends weren't so convinced since you had stability with Joe, but your parents were more understanding about the matter. You didn't know why love vanished from you. Maybe it was the routine or how lonely you felt during the season, but one day you woke up and saw Joe as a roommate rather than a boyfriend. And his house started to feel foreign, and his presence wasn't wonderful anymore. And you thought the feeling would be temporary because everyone loved Joe, and you should too. He gave you many things other men could never, but it wasn't enough. You tried to loved him again, going to dates, dressing cute but in general the experience felt so bad. And the blame drown you. How could you think even for a moment to leave a man like him? Handsome, athletic, rich, popular and down-to-earth. "If you leave him, you are going to regret it deeply" a friend told you "You are not gonna find someone like him elsewhere" Maybe you don't, maybe you would regret it for life. But crying every night wasn't your long term option. You couldn’t live like this forever. You weren't attracted to him anymore, a sour and true feeling. And if you brain were smarter, you would have stayed and enjoy the expensive lifestyle, but since your heart was slowly dying you decide to leave."If it is what you truly want, then what can I do?" He said sadly. He wasn’t even fighting for this  "But let not make a mess about it, it wouldn’t be good for my image"

You don't. People didn't realize Joe was single after a couple of months later during a interview when he denied to have girlfriend. 

***

You built a new life far away from anything football related. You stayed in contact with some of the girls, but always went out during the off-season and never talked about Joe or football in your presence. Sometimes you felt like an outcast but they truly enjoyed your company. You noticed Joe's popularity rise and you watched his commercials in public spaces. When you moved for a job opportunity in another country you got the news that he won his first Super Bowl ring and you were happy for him. You reminded him fondly. You bet he hated all the attention he was receiving, but it was the way it was. After his win, you didn't hear about him at all, until you went back to America, now as a married woman. You saw each other at a wedding from a friend in common. You genuinely thought Matt would never get married, so when you received the invitation you had to see it first hand. You saw Joe in the ceremony, he was dating a beautiful woman that you knew later was a model. You made eye contact across the crowd, it was just a second but you could tell he was surprised. Then his eyes focused on the person next to you, your husband. You felt a little guilty not knowing why. You made a life after him, not avoidable.

You enjoyed the wedding, chatting with old friends and catching up, meeting their partners and babies. A few of them didn't know you were married and you introduce them to your husband. When the party started, you dance together. Your hubby was a good dancer, and both enjoyed the party between laughs and alcohol. 

  ***

Joe hated it. He felt fucking sick. 

You were gorgeous as you always were, your blue dress flying around, your naked back he touched many times before. Your childish smile...How could you do so well without him? He was hurt, his ego was hurt. His pride didn't let him to approach you, but when he saw you leave to the gardens, his feet started moving. He wanted to see you again, touch you. See how much you have changed. Why do you married someone else and not him. Why do you moved on when he still had a little silly hope that got crushed when he saw that ring in your finger. Why he wasn't enough? Why, why, why. He loved you so much, and he failed in many ways. You were a simple woman, you never cared about money or luxury things, but the things you care for he couldn't give it to you. Against his pride, he had to admitted to himself that letting you go and letting your relationship sour and die was the only regret of his life. So when he saw you in that bench, staring at the night sky he felt sad. Hurting from memories. You always saw him as Joe Burrow, the guy from Athens, fan of Starts Wars and geeky stuff, the perfectionist and grumpy man. The insecure boy about his teeth and appearance. The anxious man who people has never seen on screen. You knew those sides of him. He loved you since college and those feelings punched him in the gut watching you there. 

He walked towards you in silence, when you looked up to him, you got startled. "Joe" your voice sounded strained, surprised. You looked older, your hair had its natural color. When he entered to the NFL you decided to dye it blonde, but always loved your brown hair. 

"Hello" he said, a little nervous.

"What are you doing here?" you stand up, looking around. You were alone.

"I want to talk to you"

"Oh, about...what" you asked, flat.

"I wanted to see how are you doing" he shrugged, his hands in his pockets. "Oh, I'm doing well" you said, looking at his blue eyes. The black suit made wonders on him. "I'm married know, I live in London, have you been? It's a nice city" you babble. He felt a sharp pain across his chest. "No, no, you know..." he started.

"You don't like long flights" you finished for him. A short silence between you. The tension rising.

"Can I sit? " He got closer and took a seat, you sat down a few inches apart rigid. "You are dating someone I suppose?" Joe nodded without hesitation. "Nothing serious she wanted help with her model career, I'm helping her until she gets a contract" he shrugged.

 "Oh, that's...well, good for her" he smiled a little bit, he was still staring, studying your face. He noticed a few white hairs too, but your eyes were kind as always. Your lips were red and plump as he remembers. 

 "I can't believe Matt got married" you said, looking the flowers in front of you. "Yeah, I have been wishing many things tonight" he replied as a joke.

"Like what?" He shrugged with nothing to say apparently. The true was he didn’t want to say it out loud.

 "Winning another Super Bowl?" You added. "Did you watch the game?" he asked, hopeful. It was a great moment in his career.

"No, I couldn't" you answer disappointed  him. You were beating him without knowing. Damn you were completely over him. And why you shouldn't? You were resilient, strong on your own. What a selfish piece of crap he was. When you broke up with him, he thought you were going to comeback to him after a couple of months, when that didn't happen he thought you needed time, and when that time become years he realized he fucked up. Of course, you were dating Joe Burrow the guy from Athens, not Joe Burrow the Superstar Quarterback. Because yes, you break up with him because he didn't pay attention to the relationship. Because he thought you were staying no matter what. He took you from granted and he lost you.

"Are you ok? You look tired" He hear you voice and went back to his senses. "Yeah, it has been a long day" 

"Well, I'm happy you are doing well, Joe" he looked you, your answer was genuine he could tell. You were smiling at him. “I hope you continue your career as healthy as you could be. I wish you the best, truly”

He stared at you long and hard. He felt a sting in his eyes and looked down. How could you be so kind after so many years? and why it seemed like another goodbye from you?

"Yeah, thank you" he coughed “I wish you well too. Can I asked you something?”

“Yes, go ahead”

“Are you happy with him?” he asked.

You blushed. "Yes, I am" He sighed feeling suddenly more older and tired than ever. "Glad to hear, you deserved it”

“You are going to find someone too, Joe” if you were trying to comfort him, it didn’t work. It was pretty much the opposite.

 “I need to come back. Take care" He stood up. He walked a couple of steps when he turned around and said:

"Just for the record, I also wish I had done things differently when we were together" 

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for convincing a friend to run for an officer position in a club just so someone else didn’t win?

So, this happened a few months ago but it’s been gnawing at my brain and I want to know if I did the right thing. I asked some online friends for advice beforehand and there’s a chance they’ll see this- if you do, please don’t expose my blog, thanks.

Context: I (16F) am a member of my school’s Science Olympiad team, and held an officer position the past school year (my sophomore year/10th grade) and ran again for next year (my junior year/11th grade). I am using everyone’s ages at the time this happened to the best of my knowledge and memory. This takes place in a United States high school, and our Olympiad team is tied to a junior high school Olympiad team from the junior high on our campus, which we do all of our meetings with.

A group of my friends (17F, 16F, 16F, 15F) went out for the 4 out of the remaining 5 high school officer positions, and odds looked pretty good we’d win all of our races, thus having 5 out of 6 high school officer positions total. Usually it wouldn’t really matter who won anything, it would just be nice if we were all officers together. The only issue is that there are two other people on our team who are friends with each other (17F and 15F), but have a history of bullying and toxic behavior including towards people on the team. They ran for literally every single position, as you are allowed to run for multiple, and we were concerned they would use them to abuse power.

As I said before, it seemed likely we would win the positions we wanted, but this would leave secretary open, as the only two people running for secretary were one of my friends who I already mentioned, who was more likely to win president, and one of the girls I had mentioned we didn’t want winning anything in case of an abuse of power, so there wasn’t even a chance of a “third party” winning. The only reason we knew for sure who was running for what before the election started is my officer position (which was officially still held until the results of the election were released) enabled me to look at the sign up form, which I created.

My best friend told me she and another friend had worked out a plot to keep secretary out of this girl’s hands. She wanted me to ask a younger friend of mine (13NB, uses he/they for clarification) who was one of the eighth graders on the junior high school team to run, since he is going to be a freshman on the high school team this upcoming school year, and anyone with a year’s experience at any level who will be at least a freshman is allowed to run for a high school officer position.

I said I didn’t want to ask them, and I had multiple reasons why.

First, I already convinced him to do the high school team in the first place when he wanted to stick to the junior high one for another year (9th graders can be in either the junior high or high school competing divisions in Science Olympiad even though most schools in my area classify 9th grade as high school). Nobody asked me to do that, they’re just a smart kid and I thought it would be a waste of potential for them not to. Because of this I wanted him to choose to go for on officer position or not for himself at least. Second, I feel bad using a kid as a pawn in a drama he’s not involved in, even though it’s for a good reason. Everyone else involved in this was already in high school at the time. Third, they don’t even know about the stuff the girl we wanted him to run against has done, because she is nice to them specifically and they are friends. If he figured out we were plotting for him to beat her I think that would damage his trust in me and my friendship with him.

Here’s where I think I might have been an asshole. I gave in and asked them anyway, because my friends all seemed convinced this was the best course of action and I didn’t want them getting mad at me, and I still strongly felt this girl getting elected would be bad for the team I’ve worked so hard to support and for the other team members’ (mostly people I am friends with and care about) mental and emotional well being.

My friend did run, they took my suggestion to run for secretary and signed up to run for that specific position. The girl we didn’t want winning somehow beat them by two votes, so I guess it didn’t matter anyway.

In case this influences anyone’s opinion, I will tell you that we were probably right that this girl should not have been an officer. I was hoping she would mature in an officer position, but she didn’t. She’s still been saying nasty shit behind people’s backs (so has the other girl we didn’t want to win, though she didn’t win anything as we correctly predicted our wins in the other five positions). She’s been half-assing all her officer responsibilities and complaining about them constantly even though she signed up for this, and I have already been forced to do some things that were supposed to be her job.

I know it doesn’t matter now anyway, but I still kind of feel bad for using a (at the time, he’s 14 now) 13 year old as a pawn in a plot especially one that’s a good friend that I care about. Was I the asshole for doing that?

What are these acronyms?

[eomayas]

hi! if you're still taking requests, may i request a baekhyun angst writing? i'll leave it up to you as long as it doesn't involve sickness or de*th :) thank youu~

a/n: hi, thank you for the request and your patience, as well as your support! i’m not the best angst writer and don’t really know how good or concise this is, so sorry for any mistakes. hope you like it 💕 (i’m also really bad at ending all of my stories so bear with me)

broken promises • bbh [req]

pairing: idol!baekhyun x f!reader

genre: angst

warnings: angst

“so this is it?” he asks, his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped in front of him. his eyes shine with tears that he is trying not to let fall.

you shrug. “i cant keep doing this, baekhyun,” you sniff, wiping under your eyes with the sleeve of your shirt. his eyes stay locked on the floor, as if a solution to fixing your relationship will spew from the carpet.

baekhyun can’t even remember how you two ended up here. one minute, he was walking in the door and the next you were telling him that you wanted to break up. his brain turned off after the word left your lips, and all he could hear was the echo of your voice in his head saying “i’m done”. “done” as in with him, with your relationship, with waiting on him, with waiting for him. simply just done, over it.

he tried to salvage it, begged you to see it through. tried to reason with you that he’d be better, he’d make more time for you, that he loved you. but he’d fallen short on so many of the promises of the past, that his words went in one ear and out the other for you.

you never wanted it to get to this point, but it started to feel inevitable. he was gone a lot—you knew that’d be the case when you agreed to be his girlfriend. you practically signed up for it. and it was fine, you could deal with it as long as he came back to you, and made time for you. he held up his end of the deal, coming right home to you once he was finished with his schedules, reserving time—days—just for you, turning off his phone and ignoring calls from his friends.

he did it all, until he stopped. he got comfortable—all it took was you saying it was fine that he saw some friends once, to let him forget about you completely. those days turned into mere hours turned into quick hellos and goodbyes. you lived alone half of the year, and it started to feel like he was just there to sleep on the days he was back from his schedules. there were barely any signs that he lived with you beyond his clothes in the closest. anyone could come over and assume that you lived alone, and they wouldn’t be entirely wrong.

you gave him the benefit of the doubt every time. you convinced yourself that he’d see you when he got the chance. but he never made time, so the opportunity never arose. it got to a point where you were lucky to even hold a conversation with him for longer than a few minutes.

bakehyun was a stranger in your house. it felt odd to even see him sit in the chair across from you. it’s probably the first time it’s ever been occupied by him.

“y/n, please,” he begs. he doesnt even know what he’s begging for—another chance, reconsideration? understanding?

you shake your head. “no, baekhyun. i cant be with you anymore,” a single tear falls out of his eye and drags down the length of his cheek, curving down his jaw before dropping onto the wood floor.

this day wasn’t supposed to happen. these words were never supposed to leave your mouth. and nothing could have ever prepared baekhyun for it, not even if it was telegrammed to him, or if the signs were always there.

baekhyun sniffs and finally lifts his head to look at you, and feels like crumpling all over again, because you’re no longer his. the woman across from him is now a stranger, somebody he once had and took for granted.

he wants so badly to touch you one last time, to hold and to kiss you to commit to memory. he needs something to hold onto, to remind himself it wasn’t always like this, but maybe it has been and he’s been too blind to see it. “i can be better,” he sniffs, pushing his hair back from his forehead.

you shake your head. you once had better, had the best from him. it’s hard to believe that he could ever be that same man again. “baekhyun, it’s over,” and it kills you to keep saying it, because every time the words leave your lips it becomes more real. your life with baekhyun is unfolding in the worst possible way.

it’s helpless now. any words he says will be like grasping at straws, and he’s run out. he’s run out of chances to make things better. and he’ll curse himself forever for losing the one thing in his life that meant the most, all because he couldn’t read the signs that were right in front of him.

[anashins]

hello author! :> can i request a jaehyun scenario based on niki’s backburner? it can be very angsty if you want! it’s also up to u if happy ending or not hehe

Pairing: Jaehyun x Reader

Genre: angst, slight fluff

Warnings: mc is in an unhealthy relationship

Word Count: 1k

Summary: You know you have to break up with your boyfriend who made it clear that you're not his priority. But if one good day makes up for seven bad ones, you consider that it might be all worth it in the end.

A/N: This hit wayyyy close to home, wow 🥲 Hope you like it 💖 

“I’m sorry I haven’t called earlier.”

You were currently on your way home from the airport, not having expected Jaehyun to call. In fact, he hadn’t called all week while you had been abroad for a business trip despite you always updating him about your whereabouts and feeding him with pictures of places he had never been to before. It was top tier girlfriend behavior from your stance. You had always been a perfect partner to him.

But, as of now, you didn’t even know what you two were for each other anymore.

“You ignored me for an entire week, Jaehyun,” you said into the phone while carrying your bag and suitcase across the street. “The past two days, I even stopped texting you altogether and you didn’t even care. You didn’t ask how I’ve been, what I was doing… whether I was even still alive!”

You heard him snort into the phone, and that fueled your underlying anger even more that had somehow developed from your pent up frustration. “Come on, y/n. You were with many other people. What should have happened to you?”

It was not the first time that you were leading this conversation and you were tired of going around in circles, which was why you didn’t even decide to argue against his ridiculous excuse. You asked yourself if he would have even noticed had you not returned, had something truly happened to you. And the possible answer drove you to the brink of tears. 

Your silence was an invitation for him to continue with a voice that almost convinced you of his feigned regret, “It was a very busy week for me that also took a toll on my mental health, so I was out with friends a lot. Of course I looked at your photos and appreciated them. How could I not, knowing I have such a beautiful girlfriend? But I was under so much stress and often couldn’t bring up enough strength for daily tasks. I can only apologize again that I made you feel neglected.”

You sighed deeply that he was most likely to hear. Somehow, anger gave way to love again - like always. When you had read his name on your display earlier, your heart had almost jumped out of your chest, that was how happy you had felt to finally get a sign of life from him before rationality settled. 

After all, you still loved him with every fiber of your body. Even though your brain had been telling you to leave, your heart just couldn’t align.

“It’s always like this, Jaehyun,” you brought yourself to say eventually. “Whenever you feel overwhelmed and want to detach from the world, you’re detaching from me too. But it’s somehow always only me who ends up getting shut out by you while you remain in all your other friendships and relationships. And I’m tired of feeling this way, I’m tired of you never letting me in, of being put aside, of getting hurt by your behavior. Please don’t call me anymore. Never again.”

You didn’t know whether it was the newly gained courage of a successful business trip, newly found confidence after doing sightseeing all by yourself or just your brain finally dominating over your heart that had made you say that, but it hurt like hell and you regretted it instantly.

How many times had you found yourself in this position? How many times had you still agreed on working through and ended up at this point still? 

“Well, that’s kind of unfortunate,” Jaehyun spoke. “Because I’m already here.”

The next moment, you found yourself in front of your entrance door and your boyfriend waiting right next to it. Suppressing the urge to drop all your luggage and jump into his arms right away, you approached him reluctantly, your facial expression bland, his beaming with joy on the other hand.

When Jaehyun wrapped his arms around you and welcomed you back, your hands loosely hung to your sides. Had he just forgotten the words you had said a moment ago? And had you forgotten as well when your own arms acted on their own and slowly wandered up his back, your head resting on his shoulder, hugging him tightly?

“I truly mean it.” He pressed a tender kiss on your parting. “I’m so sorry.”

A tear escaped from the corner of your eye, but you swallowed the rest down, not wanting to show weakness in front of him. “I missed you so much.”

No “I missed you too”, no “I love you”, no kiss on the lips as expected, but the happiness you felt being so closely embraced by him again after a week of no contact overshadowed all sane thoughts that swam in the back of your mind. 

“Let’s go upstairs and order some food,” Jaehyun suggested. “I have to get up early for work tomorrow, which was why I couldn’t join my friends for a drink. So I was very lucky to have you back today.”

This was wrong. So, so wrong. But his presence was like a drug, and the thought to go entirely without him from now on hurt so bad, it nearly suffocated you. Perhaps, this was your fate. To quietly suffer the majority of the time just to be happy for a day or two. Didn’t everyone have to pay a price for their happiness? In the end, no one could be happy all the time in a relationship, couldn't they?

Jaehyun walked in front of you into the building while you carried your entire luggage yourself, asking yourself again whether this was all worth it, to be the back burner. Or whether to end it once and for all, feel the pain for only a short time, and then start anew.

But when you found yourself lying in his arms and listening to his regular breathing later that night, you felt so happy again that your heart almost burst, quieting your brain once again.

In the end, it was worth it, being in the back of his mind.

[summercourtship]

stay to burn (only to drown instead): chapter two: hard times in the city [part II]

masterpost | ao3 link

jonathan crane x reader; bruce wayne x reader; edward nashton x reader | warnings: canon typical violence, sexual themes | word count: 4111 words

DISCLAIMER: these chapters are not meant to be read alone. not every chapter has content for one of the three pairings listed. this is an ongoing fanfiction that I am cross-posting here on tumblr, not a series of one-shots.

chapter one | previous part

Though Dr. Crane held office hours every Tuesday and Thursday, you only attended his Thursday hours to assist him or anyone who needed help with the class. But you hoped that no one would come in, for a few reasons.

One, it had only been a week and the first assignment wasn’t graded yet. There was nothing to need help with, not yet. If someone came in needing help, you were certain it would be more tedious than anything.

Two, you wanted to be alone with the man, even if you embarrassed yourself in some way almost every single time you are. He was like a drug, something you shouldn’t crave but by god you did. And he hadn’t even touched you.

And the third probably most influential reason was that you were exhausted. You were taking five classes in addition to your assistant position while trying to maintain at least a 20 hour work week. All you wanted was just to finish up the work you were doing right now (homework for an unrelated class) and go home.

And then you groaned as you remember that you don’t just get to go home later, that you had to work a six hour shift at the Stupid Corner Store.

Dr. Crane looked up at you, a question clearly poised on his lips. (His stupid lips.)

(Please erase the next thought from your brain.)

(His stupid, kissable lips that you desperately wanted somewhere, anywhere on your body-)

“I have work tonight.” Just saying it out loud was annoying. But you didn’t even bother entertaining the idea of calling out, knowing how horribly they reacted when you actually had genuine reasons for being out. Besides, you wouldn’t do that to the poor guy you were letting off since they’d probably make him cover your shift if you didn’t go in. And you don’t need that on your conscience.

“The convenience store, correct?” He flipped another paper, sighing and crossing something out.

“Yup.” You popped the end of the word, not much else to say about the hole you worked in.

“What time will you be off?”

“I get off-” Hm, don’t say that. “I’m done with my shift at eleven.” Because your boss forgot to care about you being mugged the last time you worked a late shift. Or just forgot that it happened at all.

“Walking home?” He flipped another page.

“Yup.”

“I’ll give you a ride home.” He wasn’t asking if he could, and he said it so casually like he was a friend from work, not your professor.

“What?” Your head snaps up to his but he’s not even looking at you. “You don’t need to do that- I’m sure it’s really out of your way and it’s late-”

Now he was looking at you. The slightly irked expression was on his face again, the same one he had in the cafe when you’d pushed back against him helping you out with your career.

“Let me take you home.” His voice was soft but firm. Insistent.

And when he says it like that, what can you do but agree?

You left office hours ninety minutes later, shrugging on your raincoat before stepping into the torrential downpour, immediately turning in the opposite direction from your house.

You really hated your job.

Sometimes, you could tolerate it or even convince yourself that it wasn’t that bad. But when you’d had a full day of classes, office hours, and whatever-the-hell you had going on with Dr. Crane, you just wanted to go back to your apartment and collapse on your bed, fast asleep before you even hit the duvet.

But you trudged through the rain, sighing in defeat when the flickering neon sign proclaiming the store as OPEN came into view. The store wasn’t even warm when you got inside, the space heater still behind the counter. The heat had been broken since last year and that was their solution. Your co-worker, Robby, slumped down when he saw you entered, relief evident in his body. He just started working at the shop a few weeks ago and you estimated that he’ll last about two more before either quitting or being fired for something stupid.

How you managed to escape either of those fates is beyond you.

You waved at him as you passed the register, headed back to drop your stuff off.

You threw your bag on a chair in the breakroom, which was a glorified closet, and grabbed your badge, clocking in at the ancient computer on a rickety desk.

And then began another boring evening shift. If it was sunny out, you could watch the sunset through the windows of a nearby skyscraper for some entertainment. But it was raining and the streetlamps were already on, illuminating the street in their orange glow.

At least you had the heater on you now, burning your legs while your hands still trembled with cold.

The hours slowly crept past you, the yacht rock playing on the loudspeaker giving you a headache. You were so tired of Sweet Caroline and it somehow came on every ten songs. The only thing getting you through the night was the thought of your downright heavenly full sized bed at home.

Finally, your replacement swept into the store, his dark frame glasses foggy from the rain. You, like Robby before you, slumped in relief against the counter, immediately going to grab your stuff so you could leave.

All you had to do now was walk home, which was still nerve wracking. Probably more now that you had actually been mugged only a few months ago.

You stepped into the rainy evening, your book bag on your shoulder, about to start your trek back home when someone called your name, the voice slicing through the constant patter of raindrops like a knife. You whipped your head to the direction of the sound, balking when you saw who was waiting for you.

Dr. Crane was leaning out of the driver’s window of a sleek black car, and you realized that you had completely forgotten about his offer.

“Come on, get out of the rain.”

A moment passed where you simply stared at him before you snapped back into your body. And realized that you were getting drenching just standing there and there was a much better option right in front of you.

You hurried over to the passenger seat, flattening yourself against the car as vehicles zoomed by on the road, waiting for an opening to slip into the car without risking the door or yourself being dragged down the road by a passing vehicle. Surely he could have parked with the passenger side to the sidewalk, right? But it was an odd parking set-up on this road, so you didn’t blame him for choosing the one closest to the shop.

Heart racing, you finally managed to hop into the car, wincing as water droplets fly off your coat and into the interior.

“Sorry-”

“No worries. It’s Gotham, you can’t really avoid the rain.”

“That’s true.” You smiled, adjusting your bag on your lap, almost hugging it to you to calm your nerves about being in Dr. Crane’s (very nice smelling) car. (It was so warm, leather seats comfortable against your body, rock music playing softly in the background- not yacht rock either, but a droning, almost soothing wall of sound. You could fall asleep here, you could live in this warmth.)

“There's a coffee for you, if you want it.” He nodded down to the drink holder where, sure enough, there was a cardboard cup with a slow trickle of steam escaping from the hole in the lid. Your stomach flipped at the sight, the thought of him getting coffee specifically for you sending flutters across your entire body. The cold from the rain had already settled into your bones so you don’t think twice about the caffeine as you pick it up. You had homework to do, anyway, it would help.

You took a sip of the coffee, sighing as your insides are warmed by the stream of somewhat sweet liquid. It’s not your typical order but you’ll take free coffee anyday.

“Thank you for the coffee and, again, for picking me up, you really didn’t have to-”

“These streets aren’t safe for anyone at this time of night. I would hate to lose a good TA because of some lowlife.”

His clinical, detached way of explaining his reasoning stung. Like he didn’t actually care about picking you up so you’d be safe but instead making sure you were still an efficient and non-injured worker after your late shift.

But then again, he also confirmed that only a week into the class he already considered you a “good TA.”

You win some, you lose some.

“Well. Thank you.” Was your voice a bit tense now? You took another sip of your coffee, using it as a visual reassurance that he cared about you in some capacity, right? He wouldn’t have bought it for you if he didn’t give a shit about you on a personal level.

The car fell into a silence and you couldn’t decide whether or not it was awkward. On one hand, you’d clearly discovered during office hours that Dr. Crane doesn’t talk much in these situations, the personal ones. If there was nothing professional to discuss, he was quiet. On the other hand, you had just tragically failed to begin a conversation (which he had tragically murdered, so maybe you were both at fault here).

He didn’t ask you how your shift was (normal and mind-numbingly boring) or if you’d seen any good movies lately (nope). In the few one-on-one conversations you’d had with him, he hardly asked anything about you. Sure, he wanted to know about your plans for the future but that’s not the same as wanting to know your favorite band or what you did when you were alone with nothing else to do.

You opened and closed your mouth a few times, trying to figure out what to say. Traffic was, like always at this time of night, bad. The constant stopping and starting of the car would normally make you car sick but Dr. Crane had a way of driving that smoothed these transitions out, making the entire ride feel like one continuous motion, a hazy dream.

You decided, then, to rest your head back and not worry about making conversation. If he didn’t want to speak, you wouldn’t feel the need to fill his silence. Even if your nerves were fluttering around in your stomach like restless bats, which you decided to blame on the caffeine in the coffee.

You only realized once he pulled up in front of your apartment, putting the car into neutral, that there was one important question he hadn’t asked you, and it was perhaps why your stomach had been twisting in anxiety with each turn. You stared up at your building through the passenger window, before slowly turning to Dr. Crane, trying desperately to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach.

Trying desperately to ignore the fear spiking as you were faced with the reality of needing to ask: “How did you know where my building was?”

A question that he only gives a miniscule shake of his head to, looking at you like you’re being silly (or worse, stupid).

“You told me when I offered to pick you up.”

You’re certain that you didn’t. You didn’t even remember his offer until he showed up at your workplace. It was that unremarkable to you- so you would have remembered giving your address to him, your mind would have come up with scenarios where him holding that knowledge would come in handy. He could have easily said that he saw it on one of the forms you had to fill out or in your student information that you knew he looked at before. But he didn’t say any of that, instead choosing to tell you that you told him. When you hadn’t.

You let the silence linger for a moment, letting the music fill in the empty space.

“...Right.” You didn’t bother hiding the fact that you didn’t believe it, furrowing your brow and narrowing your eyes. He showed no sign of being fazed by your obvious disbelief and discomfort, only that little quirk of his head he does when looking at you sometimes.

Like he was examining a specimen at a museum, one that had surpassed his initial expectation.

You weren’t sure how you felt about being subjected to his scrutiny like this, like you were a test subject.

Finally, he broke eye contact, your impromptu staring competition over as he looked out of the windshield at your building.

“There’s a sponsorship gala being held next month for the university. I would like it if you would join me as my plus one.” If you could get whiplash from a conversation, this sudden turn in topic would do it for you. It’s not like your clunky changes when you’re on the phone with your mother, which are fueled purely by your desire to not talk about uncomfortable subjects.

You blinked at him, certain you had somehow hallucinated this change, that you had blacked out for a moment and missed the smooth transition from your questions to this.

When he didn’t clarify, you figured you had heard him correctly and he was just deciding to ignore your discomfort.

“...Why?” You were not the type to be invited to galas, let alone attend them.

“You’re my TA. We’re a team, right?”

A team.

“I guess.”

“I would enjoy your being there.”

And despite your discomfort about him knowing where you lived and being unwilling to give you the reason for why he knew it, your heart skipped a beat, heat rushing to your cheeks.

“I’ll think about it.” It was best with Dr. Crane, you decided then, not to make any immediate decisions. He had a way, though, of siphoning them out of you like blood, convincing you to bend to his whim before you even realized it.

So you did the next best thing and left.

You opened the door, beginning your exit from the car, reaching down to grab your bag. Before you could, a pale hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, not tightly but steady, with calming pressure against your pulse. You barely stifle your gasp, your skin electrified from where he’s touching you, your veins live wires.

“Be safe.” You looked up from where you’d been staring at the connection between your wrist and his palm, right into his eyes.

“O-of course.” You pulled yourself free of his hold, mind clearing the moment he let you go. For some reason you can’t place, tiny tendrils of anxiety are swirling in your stomach- perhaps lingering discomfort from before that was only temporarily alleviated by his touch.

You stepped out of the warm car, effectively cutting the conversation short, grimacing at the icy cold rain as it began hitting your skin again. You could feel his eyes on you as you walked up to your building’s door, but you held back on looking at him until you opened it and were sure you’re at a safe enough distance to avoid being sucked back into his magnetic field.

You waved goodbye at the dark car, at the man watching you.

He didn’t wave back.

But still, you looked after him as he left, watching as his car joined the multitude of others and you finally lost sight of him.

You thought a lot about his hand over the next day, distracted in your actual classes the next day. You could still feel his touch on your wrist, the way the pad of his thumb pressed right against the pressure point that calmed your anxiety. It’s only when the professor of your historiography class dismissed you that you look at your notes and just see a rough sketch of a hand, no notes on any of the things you’d discussed in class (which, when you thought about it, you weren’t even sure you comprehended you were so distracted).

“What a cliche.” You muttered as you snapped the notebook shut, shoving it back in your bag. You could survive not paying attention in a few classes because there was no way you were turning your brain on for your second and last class, not when you’d apparently already spent half of the day doodling hearts.

At least you weren’t writing his name and yours together. (Yet).

****

You could not believe that some people made it all the way to their senior year of college and still didn’t know the difference between to, too, and two. You crossed out yet another too where the student obviously meant to, sighing. It’s just another red mark on the essay you’re currently looking over that is already covered in red marks, corrections on par with Dr. Crane’s usual method of grading.

Part of you thinks that the assignment was also acting as sort of a test for you- for Dr. Crane to see how well you could maintain his level of standards, how efficiently you could grade. You were certain that if he wasn’t absolutely confident in your abilities after this, he would create a thorough guide for you to reference when grading. And you didn’t want him to feel the need to do that, not for you.

It’s why you were wasting your Saturday night- one of the few nights this week you aren’t working a shift at the Stupid Corner Store- cross legged on the couch with your headphones over your ears, surrounded by papers.

You looked up when the TV screen- that you hadn’t turned off, for whatever reason, instead opting to just pause whatever show you were watching though you had no intention of continuing it that night- finally fell asleep. And then you practically jumped out of your skin when you noticed a figure behind you in TV’s reflection, only minimally relaxing out of flight mode when you realized who it was.

The Batman was on your balcony, again.

He didn’t knock, or move, or do anything to indicate he wanted to come inside and yet you knew that he wouldn’t be there if he didn’t need something. Like a lightning bolt had hit you, you spring into action, jumping up while pulling your headphones down to your neck and leaping over the scattered papers to get to the door.

You practically threw the door aside in your hurry to get to him. As much as you would like to begin your second meeting with a cute quip, something stupid and flirtatious like “Ah, I knew you wouldn’t be able to stay away from me,” you know he isn’t here for pleasure. Maybe you did something wrong that you didn’t know about, but you’re certain he’s here for help, whatever that may be.

You examined him, trying to find whatever’s wrong. His eyes are unfocused, his breath heavy, but you see no injuries- at least not physically or externally. He stared past you into your living room but he clearly isn’t seeing anything that’s actually there, his eyes moving around the space rapidly.

You quickly stepped aside from the opening in the door, sharply gesturing for him to enter with one hand.

“Get in.”

He complied, though his steps aren’t as sure footed as you would expect from him. Your gaze followed as he entered your space, watching him apprehensively. You only slid the door closed once you’re certain he wouldn’t immediately collapse into a pile of armor and muscle.

“What do you need?” You’re already moving to the bathroom, your apartment small enough that you were able to keep an eye on him even in the small room. You grabbed your First Aid kit from under the sink, not sure what you’ll need from it. It wasn’t very well stocked but it had enough to patch up a wound until he could get actual medical help.

“You… were close.” He said in greeting, his voice strained. He was leaning against the counter, his teeth clenched and eyes closed. You gently placed a hand on his forearm. His eyes spring open, pupils dilated but quickly focusing on you.

His eyes were blue, a stormy color like dusk in Gotham.

You guided him to your table, recalling the offhanded thought you’d had all those months ago when he’d saved you about him sitting in one of your mismatched chairs. But with him obviously in pain or distress or whatever the hell was happening to him, it wasn’t the amusing image you had thought it would be.

“What happened to you?”

He grunted in response, stumbling slightly as he obeyed your guidance and sat down. “Gas.”

Your mind raced with every scenario he could mean. A gas leak? Chemical warfare? …Indigestion?

“Do I need to call someone?” You squatted by his side, placing the first-aid kit on the floor and popping it open. You really needed to restock some of the items- being mugged and attacked had severely depleted your supplies. But doing this was better than just sitting there, wringing your hands and doing nothing. “The GCPD, hospital-”

“No-” He coughed, but already he’s seeming less inebriated and lost, his eyes returning to their usual intensity, no longer clouded with something else. “I’ve dealt with it once before. Just need time for it to get out of my system.”

“When you say gas-“

“Weaponized.” He doesn’t elaborate. And for your own mental health’s sake, you’re okay with him keeping it to himself. No use worrying about the new villain in town until you had to.

“Right.“

You lamely shut the first aid box. It was silly to think that you would be patching him up. Of course, he just needed a quick place he knew was safe to hide until he could get back out there. He probably had an entire team of nurses ready to patch him up back at his headquarters or wherever it was he went when he was done saving the city.

You crossed from the table back to your couch, sighing as you sunk back into the cushions. Now that you’d been distracted from it, you really didn’t want to get back into grading.

You turned your head back to the vigilante in your kitchen, only to see him already watching you.

“I was busy when you came in.” You explained, though you’re not sure why. He didn’t respond verbally, only standing and approaching you slowly. He stopped just before he got to the mess of your living-room-office-area, staring at the scattered papers and psychology books that you had moved from your bedroom to the side table.

“What is this?”

“Grading. I’m a TA.” You shrugged.

He tilted his head and you realized he’s reading the (heavily annotated, covered in notes and reminders) syllabus you almost always have splayed on the couch when it’s not in your bag. His jaw worked back and forth before he looked back at you. His pupils were normal, his eyes completely free from the fog that was over them before.

“Are you better now?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Okay. Good.”

You drummed your fingers against your thigh.

“Do you want anything to eat-”

But he’s already turned, moving around your couch to the balcony door.

“Alright.” You whispered to yourself, annoyed that he was once again leaving without even saying a word of greeting or goodbye.

Before he exited the apartment, the Batman stopped by the cork board hanging on the wall. He paused, examining the fliers and other scraps of paper you’d put on there. It wasn’t special, just a place to put things to keep them kind of in your brain (though you often forgot about the corkboard, to be honest, some of the things were so old.)

But before you can ask him what he’s staring at, he turned to look back at you one more time, not saying anything, before leaving back out of your fire escape. You watch out of your window, but with the shadows it’s hard to tell where he’s going.

When you’re certain he’s left for good, you go back to the board, trying to figure out what he had been staring at.

And then you see it.

Barely sticking out from behind a flier for the Sponsorship Gala is your ticket from the Bella Real campaign party at Gotham Square Garden.

And you wonder, for a brief moment before shaking it off as wishful thinking, if he had remembered you from that night.

chapter three, pt I

[musical-shit-show]

i want your midnights

Pairing: Dewey Finn x Reader

Inspiration: sequel to waste my time, #17 (“you’re the only person i want to be with tonight”) and #39 (“don’t blame me. you know what you signed up for.”) from Prompt List #2

Warnings: cursing, angst, alcohol consumption, suggestive dialogue (?), anxiety, fluff at the end

Word Count: 3,229

Author’s Note: Last one shot of 2022! This is a sequel to waste my time, which I really enjoyed writing and thought it warranted a part 2. And, since it’s New Year’s Eve, I thought it’s only fitting to get this out tonight. Thanks to everyone who’s left such nice messages over the past year! I hope to continue to write more in 2023, and already have some things in the works. As always, check out my Masterlist, About Me page, and Prompt Lists if you want to submit a request! Everyone have a safe and Happy New Year!

Hooking up with Dewey Finn certainly had its perks. How could it not? You could hardly keep your hands off each other for weeks, and the secrecy only enhanced the experience. As promised, he had kept his mouth shut since that fateful Halloween party, and you two were able to convince your friends that you had simply called a truce on your years-long feud. Convince everyone but Patty, that was.

“No way,” she said, the day after the Halloween when you met her for a debriefing brunch, “What did he give you? Money? As if he had any…” She lifted her Irish coffee to her lips, smirking at her own snotty comment.

“No, no,” you said, feeling yourself get slightly annoyed at her dig, “We just…talked. He’s really not that bad, as it turns out. I know it’s different for you, but—”

Patty waved her hand, shooing your explanation away nonchalantly, “Don’t even worry about it. I had a feeling this would happen…” she mused, stirring her drink. Your heart skipped a beat, “Everyone loves Dewey anyways. Plus, Ned will be thrilled.”

You chuckled, breathing a small sigh of relief. As far as she knew, you and Dewey were nothing more than amicable. “Yeah well, he really did me a solid last night. Never imagined Dewey Finn would be good for helping with an anxiety attack, but I kinda owe him one.” Patty grabbed your hand lightly, comforting you.

“That is…actually really cool of him. And hey, maybe if you guys are friends, you’ll rub off on him. Maybe suggest he do some chores every once in a while?” She was teasing of course, but you could feel your pulse quickening again; the thought of actually hanging around Dewey made you nervous now.

You had no idea how you felt about him, and the most you two shared up to that point was a touchy makeout session on that damn fire escape the night before. All you knew was that it was in your best interest to stay away until you could figure out what was going on with your emotions.

That was almost two months ago.

And yet, you spent all your time with Dewey and no time at all figuring out your godforsaken feelings. You didn’t have much time to intellectualize your emotions with Dewey whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he pinned you against your mattress. The very thought of him in your bed sent your brain into a tailspin, so you had elected to be completely avoidant.

As far as you were concerned, you enjoyed his company and he was a great lay.

That was it.

Or rather, that’s what you told yourself at least. Having your mind lie to you was easier than letting your heart tell you the truth.

Besides, you quite liked the idea of a friends with benefits setup. It took at least a little bit of the pressure off, though it didn’t stop you from taking the piss every once in a while.

“Really stretching that definition of ‘friends’ huh, Finn?” you remembered asking him. The two of you were lying in bed one night, the streetlight outside your bedroom window shooting streaks of light across your entangled bodies. He smiled and shook his head, his shaggy mop of hair bouncing at the slightest movement.

“Well, what else would you call it?” he traced his fingers along your collarbone, where he had left a conspicuous trail of love bites that you would almost certainly have to cover up the next day. You didn’t have an answer in the moment, or as time passed. Despite loving the initial thrill of sneaking around with Dewey of all people, your situation grew more precarious with each passing day, and it was eating away at you.

Yes, Dewey was your friend now, but what if you told him how you felt and he didn’t feel the same way? What if he didn’t want to be friends anymore? And how would that affect your relationship with Ned and Patty?

And oh god, Patty. How would she feel if she found out you’ve been sleeping with her freeloader roommate with a hidden heart of gold? You were practically hanging by a thread.

Suddenly, you found yourself at the end of the calendar year, with Dewey on your couch stroking your hair absentmindedly as your head rested in his lap, a forgettable movie playing in the background. It was so domestic it almost made you sick.

“You coming to this New Year’s thing tomorrow night?” Dewey asked sleepily, the light from the TV reflecting off his face. He was drawing circles and swirls on your scalp, the sensation both tingling and relaxing you all at once.

“Yeah, of course,” you said, stretching your arms above your head and pinching his nose playfully, “I think Patty would kill me if I didn’t bring my famous champagne Jell-O shots.” Dewey let out an involuntary shudder.

“Oh, be sure to keep those away from me. I can’t have a repeat of last year.”

You smiled softly, remembering how different your relationship was only a year prior. You wondered if your past self would even believe the position you found yourself in now before finally muttering, “Duly noted.”

You and Dewey had both learned quickly to sit in silence comfortably with one another, but this one was different. You could feel a sort of tension that was new, unfamiliar.

“Maybe…” he said, now tracing swirls on your temple, “Maybe we could go together? If you want?”

Your heart nearly skipped a beat.

“I don’t know, Dew…” you trailed off, sitting up and pulling yourself away from his embrace, “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

“Not in the slightest,” he joked, sitting up to meet your gaze, “But I don’t care anymore.” He tried to scoot closer to you, but you felt yourself retract from his touch.

“Well, I do,” you heard your voice harden, “Look, this thing we have going, it’s good. I don’t want to mess it up by—”

“What? Telling the truth? Come on, we don’t have to pretend anymore. I like you. A lot. And I thought you liked me.”

For a moment, you were stunned into silence. Dewey was usually pretty easygoing, especially when it came to your arrangement. Which turned his confession into even more of a gut-punch.

Your eyes met his again, which sported a pained expression, “It wouldn’t work between us. I thought we both understood that.”

“Oh, come on, screw that!” he replied, standing up, “I know we didn’t get along before but…things are different now. At least I thought they were.”

Your heart was screaming at you to stop, to tell Dewey how you really felt, to go to this stupid party together and not worry about what other people thought. But you couldn’t do it. You were too scared of what would happen if you two were together for real.

Sure, superficially you worried about Ned and Patty; You knew deep down that they’d get over it pretty quickly. No, you were worried about falling even harder Dewey than you already had, only to eventually screw it up for yourself.

Better to end it before it starts.

You clenched your jaw, a mixture of sadness and anger overtaking your face, “Don’t blame me. You know what you signed up for.” You half expected him to argue with you, but he didn’t look angry at all; his chestnut eyes were glazed over with hurt. “Dew, I—”

You wanted to say you were sorry, that you didn’t mean it, that you could go to this stupid party together. But nothing came out. And before you could let it, Dewey had already started gathering his things to leave.

All you could do was sit in awkward silence before he spoke, his voice tremoring, “Just for the record, I think it would’ve worked between us. Really sucks that you don’t see that, I guess.”

“Dewey—” you felt yourself standing up, tears in your eyes.

“No, I,” he sighed, running his fingers through his unruly hair, “I should go. I’ll…see you around.” He opened and shut the door with finality, the sound of his footsteps reverberating down the hall, the echo deafening.

***

“Well hello, hot stuff!” Patti greeted you at her door as pop music blared behind her. You plastered on the widest smile you could muster, a tray of Jell-O shots balancing on your hand. The party was in full swing, and you could already feel your heart pounding in your chest.

You hadn’t the faintest idea if Dewey would be there. You tried to call him and explain, but it went straight to voicemail; you tried texting him, but he left you on read. You were surprised you didn’t get frostbite from the cold shoulder he was giving you.

After setting the shots down on the kitchen counter, you scanned the room intently, hoping to see a familiar mess of brown hair somewhere in the crowd. You deflated when you didn’t see him, and Patty noticed immediately as she handed you a sparkly plastic cup. You felt gold glitter stick to your fingers immediately.

“Festive,” you commented, swirling the champagne cocktail until a tiny vortex of liquid formed. You took a swig, the sweetness making your throat burn on the way down. ‘Please, God, let me get drunk tonight’ you thought, your eyes darting towards the front door each time it opened.

“Okay, what the hell is wrong with you?” Patty inquired, her tone only slightly annoyed, “I thought we were gonna have fun at this party.”

You sighed, setting the drink on the countertop, “I know, I’m sorry. I just…I want to. I have a lot on my mind and—”

“You have to tell me what’s going on,” she persisted, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve been acting weird.” Damn her and her perceptiveness. Before you could get a word out, you felt hot tears welling in your eyes.

“It’s Dewey.”

Patty blinked stupidly. You cursed yourself for blurting out his name, and you were even more ashamed that you had been lying to your best friend for months.

“Dewey?” she repeated, letting out an incredulous laugh, “Why do you even care if he shows up, I mean I know you guys called a ceasefire, but—”

“Can we just go to your room and talk?” you choked out, feeling more claustrophobic by the second, “Please?”

In that moment, Patty’s eyes widened in realization. Your crying, eyeing the doorway, mentioning Dewey Finn of all people as the source of your turmoil. It finally clicked.

“Oh…my god.”

“I’m sorry, I should’ve told you—”

“Oh my god.”

Patty practically dragged you to her and Ned’s room, slamming the door behind her. You could feel your hands getting clammy, the thought of a fight ensuing making you break out into a cold sweat. You envisioned shouting, tears of betrayal, a final angry goodbye…it was too much for your hummingbird heart to take.

“You’re in love with him.”

Now it was time for you to be taken aback. You furrowed your brow at her, trying to make sense of your best friend’s words.

“What?”

“You’re in love with Dewey,” she repeated, smiling. Never in your life had you seen Patty talk about Dewey while smiling. “I can’t believe I didn’t see this coming…”

“Wait, wait,” you sat on her bed, feeling your heart rate slow only slightly, “You’re not mad?”

Patty sat down next to you, throwing her arm over your shoulder, “Oh honey,” she said in a tone that was far too sweet for your liking, “I’m not mad. I’m furious. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”

You let out a dry laugh, “No, I mean, you’re not mad that it’s…Dewey?”

She shook her head, and your eyes widened in disbelief, “As much as he is a pain in the ass, I kinda saw this coming. Ever since after Halloween, really. I just didn’t think you’d be this head over heels for him.”

Feeling your entire body get hot with chagrin, you gave her a playful push away from you, “I’m not head over heels for him.”

“Oh, you so are.”

And then the realization dawned on you, hitting like a ton of bricks. You had been in denial for weeks, really ever since that first night on the fire escape.

You were in love with Dewey Finn.

And you were certain he never wanted to speak to you again.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said, tears starting to well in your eyes, “I fucked it up, P. I got scared and I pushed him away.”

You shoved your head into your hands, feeling utterly defeated. How could you have possibly been so stupid? You had the chance to be together, really together, but once again the cold grip of your anxiety overtook you the moment you felt yourself getting too close.

Pulling yourself out of your shame spiral, you noticed a devilish glint in Patty’s eye. “What?” you asked, a little scared of what she’d say next. She was usually the practical one; seeing her scheme was a bit unnerving.

 “Hold on, I’ll be right back.”

***

“Hey bud, where you at? This party could really use a case or two more of beer.” Dewey heard his best friend say over the phone, his voice fighting against the rowdy party that was happening in their apartment.

Dewey took another swig of his beer before responding, “Oh, hey man, yeah…I’m out.” The dive bar he had chosen for the evening was surprisingly empty, with only a few other lonely souls, “And I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to come back right now. I’m sorry.”

“Why not? Everyone is here—”

“I know. They aren’t the problem, I just…I have to tell you something.”

He then proceeded to tell Ned about everything – Halloween, the weeks since, your fight – practically all in one breath. It was killing him that he hadn’t told his best friend about the two of you, so it wasn’t difficult for him to start spilling his guts.

“I’m so sorry, dude,” he said, stepping out of the bar to catch his breath and get some fresh air, “I know I should’ve told you I just, I didn’t want to screw it up. But clearly she doesn’t feel the same way about me, so—”

“Dewey, I love you,” Ned said as he looked over at Patty, who had already relayed everything you had told her, “But you are the world’s biggest idiot.” Dewey blinked on the other side of the phone, taken aback by Ned’s uncharacteristic bluntness. “Just, get over here.”

Dewey shook his head, confused, “Wait, what’s going on—?” but before he could finish his sentence, the line went dead. He huffed, his breath appearing in the cold December night.

There was a part of him that told him to stay at the bar, sit in a booth by himself, and wait for the year to be over alone. But something else in him, something stronger, was telling him to listen to Ned and get back to the apartment. Because he knew you’d be there, and this might’ve been his last chance to make things right.

Before he realized it, he was walking home, his pace quickening as the wind stung his face. He dodged hordes of people crowd the city streets who were all ringing in the new year. His mind flashed to Ned’s request for more provisions; he honestly couldn’t bring himself to care.

As he climbed the stairs, he could hear the excited voices wafting from underneath the doorframe. Luckily, he was able to slip in relatively unnoticed since he had no alcohol to provide. He scanned the room for you, and spotted you the couch, nervously picking at your nails.

“Uh, hi.”

Looking up, your heart dropped when you saw Dewey, who gave you a small, awkward wave. “Oh my fucking god…I’m gonna kill Patty.” He chuckled lightly, and you stood up, wiping your hands on your skirt.

“You look…nice.” He choked out, the tension of your fight still hanging heavily between you. “Thank you,” you replied, your eyes darting to the floor. You were desperate for an escape plan. “I, uh, should probably get going though.”

You brushed past him to grab your coat, which Ned had haphazardly thrown into Dewey’s room. Perfect.

Dewey leaned against the doorframe, watching you tear through the pile of parkas. “Before midnight?” he said while following you in, “Come on, I knew you were a wet blanket but—”

“Please, just…just don’t.” you cut him off, your voice faltering. Dewey always tried to make light of a situation, but right now, he was only making you feel worse about blowing him off.

Before you could stop yourself, you heard your voice ringing in your head, “I…I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to, I just, I’m scared, okay? And I fucked it royally, so, seeing you here when I know that I can’t fix things, it’s just, it’s too much for me.”

“Hang on,” Dewey crossed his arms over his chest, a sad smile on his face, “who said we can’t fix things?”

“What?” you felt tears welling in your eyes, “I thought you didn’t want to see me again?” Without thinking, Dewey stepped closer to you, wiping a stray tear from your face. The small, intimate act made your pulse quicken.

“I didn’t, at first,” he said, his gaze soft, “But then I remembered your smile, and your laugh, and the way that you can argue with me about anything under the sun and I still find myself wanting to spend the whole day with you. You drive me insane, babe, but I couldn’t care less. I thought by storming out like a complete moron, I’d ruined any chance I had with you.”

In an act of impulsiveness, you grabbed his hand, entwining your fingers with his. Never in a million years did you think you’d be in this position, but Dewey’s words were enough to make you bolder than you ever imagined.

“I…don’t know what to say,” you said quietly, “Other than that…well, the last couple months have been some of the best I’ve had in years. And, you’re the reason why, Dew. You’re the only person I want to be with tonight and, well, I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you.”

Before you knew it, Dewey had picked you up, spinning you around as his laugh filled your ear. You instantly got butterflies, and when he set you down, his smile could’ve lit up the entire city.

“You won’t,” he said, “It looks like we don’t have anything to hide anymore.” You grinned back at him, a small giggle escaping from your throat. “So,” he continued, “I take it Patty knows?”

You nodded, “Yep,” you slipped your hand into his again, his grip comforting, “I don’t know what happened, but she’s…cool with it.”

“Well good,” he said, “Because I’m not letting you get away this time. I’m gonna annoy you as long as you’ll let me.” You kissed him softly, finally feeling lighter than air. The two of you stepped back into the party, finally excited for what the new year might bring.

***

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