#but no. they had to be just mid enough for me to be like 'oh there's something here' and start digging with my bare hands.

[solxamber]

And I Pick...

In which you choose the club that caught your eye

Part 1

After much contemplation you've finally decided to pick the:

Basketball Club

The basketball court was quiet for all of two seconds after you announced your decision.

Then Ace exploded.

"HA! I knew you’d pick us! I called it!" He was practically doing laps around the court, pointing at nothing in particular. "Ace Trappola: the ultimate recruiter, the club MVP, and now the guy who brought you on board! This is the best day of my life!"

"Eh, it’s about time," Floyd drawled, stretching lazily. "Took ya long enough to figure out where the fun is." His sharp-toothed grin widened. "Now we can play my version of full-contact basketball. Hehehe."

"Absolutely not," Jamil cut in, but Floyd wasn’t listening.

"Don’t worry," Floyd said, throwing an arm around your shoulders like you’d been lifelong teammates. "If you survive the first practice, you’ll survive all the practices. Probably."

Ace jogged back over, breathless but triumphant. "I told you we’re the best club! No boring rules, no endless laps like in Deuce's lame track team, and best of all—" He struck a dramatic pose, arms wide. "You get to hang out with me every day!"

"Please don’t make them quit on the first week," Jamil muttered, giving you a look that seemed to say, Are you sure about this?

"Quit? Nahhh!" Ace grinned. "They’re gonna thrive here. I’ll even teach them my signature moves—like my no-look, backwards, mid-air layup."

"You can’t even do that," Jamil said flatly.

"Not yet," Ace shot back. "But it’s the thought that counts."

Floyd leaned in closer, his grin somehow growing wider. "You better keep up, shrimpy. Otherwise, I might have to… spice things up a little."

"Spice things up?" you echoed, immediately suspicious.

"He means doing things like replacing the basketballs with watermelons," Jamil deadpanned.

Ace snorted. "Or throwing the ball at the hoop so hard it breaks the backboard. Oh wait, that actually happened. Twice."

"It was fun," Floyd said, completely unrepentant.

Jamil sighed like a man who’d aged a decade in the last five minutes. But then, to your surprise, he turned to you and offered a small, genuine smile. "Still… I’m glad you’re here. Welcome to the team."

The words were simple, but coming from Jamil, they felt like a warm endorsement.

Ace clapped his hands together, clearly ready to move things along. "Alright, enough talking! Let’s get you on the court and see what you’ve got!"

"Or we could start slow," Jamil suggested, but Ace was already dragging you toward the center of the court, Floyd trailing behind with a basketball under one arm.

"Don’t worry," Floyd said, tossing the ball up and catching it effortlessly. "If ya mess up, we’ll just laugh at ya a little. No big deal~."

"No one’s laughing at anyone," Jamil said firmly, already pinching the bridge of his nose.

Ace threw an arm around your shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. "Ignore him. We’re gonna have a blast! First practice starts now!"

You weren’t sure what you’d gotten yourself into, but judging by their enthusiasm (and Floyd’s maniacal laughter), you were in for one chaotic ride.

Track and Field Club

The moment you declared your allegiance to the track and field club, Deuce’s face lit up like someone had just told him he passed his midterms.

“You’re… really joining?” he asked, like he needed double confirmation. When you nodded, his grin widened, the kind that made him look both relieved and excited. “That’s awesome! Uh—welcome to the team! Seriously, it’s great to have you.” His usual earnestness shone through, and he scratched the back of his neck. “I mean, I’m still kind of learning the ropes, but we can figure things out together. It’s gonna be great!”

Jack, standing beside him, gave a firm nod of approval. “Good call. Track and field’s a solid choice. You’ll fit right in.” His tail wagged just enough to betray how happy he was, even if his tone stayed calm.

"Yeah!" Deuce agreed. “And, uh, don’t worry about keeping up or anything. It’s all about improving at your own pace. Right, Jack?”

“Sure,” Jack replied, glancing at you. Then he added, almost casually, “We’ll work on your stamina. You’re gonna need it.”

It took you a second to catch the faint glint in his eye, and then you remembered—oh no, the fridge comment. Jack had been disturbed ever since.

Deuce, oblivious to the subtext, chimed in, “Yeah, Jack’s great at that stuff! He’s got this crazy endurance. Like, he can run forever. I’m still working on it, but, uh, you’re in good hands!”

Jack’s tail swished again. “Just be ready to push yourself. But don’t worry—we’ve got your back.”

“Exactly!” Deuce said, his fists clenching like he was ready to run a marathon right there. “This is gonna be awesome. I mean, not that it wasn’t already great, but now it’s even better. Right, Jack?”

Jack gave a small, satisfied smile. “Right.”

As they led you toward the field, you couldn’t help but wonder what you’d just signed up for. One thing was certain, though—Jack’s still thinking about that fridge, and he will make sure it’s not an issue anymore.

Board Game Club

The moment you declared your allegiance to the board game club, Azul adjusted his glasses, looking smugly pleased with himself, like he'd just negotiated the deal of the century.

"An excellent decision," he said, his voice as smooth as the perfectly polished board games stacked behind him. "With your addition to our club, I foresee a new golden age of strategic victories."

Idia, sitting half-hidden behind a pile of unopened game boxes, choked on his energy drink. "W-Wait, you’re serious? They actually chose us?" His hair flared a brilliant shade of pink for a moment before he pulled his hoodie tighter around himself. "Th-this isn’t some prank, right? Like, I’m not gonna look up and see them bolting out the door laughing, right?"

"Nope," you replied with a grin. "I’m all in."

Ortho, ever the enthusiastic hype man, zipped into the room with his jet thrusters. "Welcome to the club! Now we have a full party for dungeon raids. This is amazing!"

Azul cleared his throat, waving a hand. "Ahem, while cooperative RPGs are certainly an option, I believe we should start with a game of strategy and wit to introduce them properly. Perhaps a round of Chess of Betrayal?"

Idia groaned, sinking further into his hoodie. "Ugh, that game takes, like, three hours. If you’re gonna scare them away, at least wait until they’re too deep in to quit. Why don’t we start with something easy, like Goblin King Gauntlet?"

Ortho clapped his hands. "Ooh, I love that one! It has a random trap mechanic! Let’s play that!"

Azul raised an eyebrow, his smile shark-like. "Trap mechanics are hardly a proper welcome. It would be far better to demonstrate the finer nuances of strategy, wouldn’t you agree?"

Idia muttered something about Azul turning everything into a power play, but you interrupted before they could spiral into a full-blown debate. "Honestly, I’m fine with anything. Just deal me in."

Azul’s smirk widened. "Very well, then. I shall prepare the game board. And don’t worry, I’ll make certain you’re fully equipped for our upcoming campaigns. You’ll find we offer more than just fun—we offer victory."

Idia peeked out from his hoodie, a small, hopeful smile creeping onto his face. "You’re not bad at this whole club thing. Maybe this won’t be so terrible."

As they started setting up the game, you felt an unexpected warmth. Sure, it was just a board game club, but there was something endearing about their chaotic enthusiasm.

Though one thing was clear—Azul would probably try to sell you game tokens at some point, and Idia would absolutely try to teach you how to min-max your dice rolls.

But hey, you were ready for it.

Film Studies Club

When you announced your decision to join the film studies club, Vil paused mid-sip of his herbal tea, one elegantly arched eyebrow rising. For a moment, he looked like he was considering whether he had heard you correctly. Then, with a practiced air of nonchalance, he set the teacup down.

"Hm. Acceptable," he said coolly, though his tone betrayed a slight uptick of satisfaction. "It’s rare to find someone with enough taste to appreciate the art of cinema. I suppose your presence will be… useful."

But the slight curl of his lips gave him away.

He stood, brushing imaginary dust from his coat, and gave you an appraising look. "We have much to discuss. If you’re serious about this, you’ll need to commit entirely—no half-measures, no excuses. The camera is unforgiving, and I have no intention of allowing this club to falter under subpar contributions."

You opened your mouth to respond, but he was already pacing, gesturing dramatically like the star of an avant-garde production. "Lighting, blocking, composition—they are all integral to creating art, not merely entertainment. I trust you won’t embarrass yourself, or me, for that matter."

Despite his words, you caught the faintest hint of pride in his gaze as he turned to face you fully. "And, if for some reason, acting isn’t your strength, there are other roles. Cinematography, set design, editing… Perhaps backstage work would suit you, should you fail the audition."

He didn’t say it to be harsh; this was Vil’s version of encouragement. And as he continued outlining the club’s vision—"a modern renaissance in storytelling"—you realized he was genuinely excited to have you there, even if he’d rather gargle poison than openly admit it.

Finally, he stopped and gave you a small, approving nod. "Welcome to the film studies club. Don’t make me regret this."

Translation: I’m glad you’re here.

Science Club

The moment you announced your decision to join the science club, Rook’s eyes lit up like you’d just declared him the ruler of the universe.

"Ah, mon ami! What a magnifique choice!" he exclaimed, sweeping you into a theatrical bow so deep you thought he might topple over. "You possess the soul of an explorer, a true seeker of knowledge! Together, we shall unlock the mysteries of nature and celebrate its beauty in all its forms!"

"Uh… don’t scare them off, Rook," Trey interjected, though he was smiling. He adjusted his apron, clearly relieved that you hadn’t bolted under Rook’s enthusiastic greeting. "We’re glad to have you. Really. It’s nice to have someone else around who won’t accidentally set the lab on fire."

You raised an eyebrow. "That’s a low bar."

Trey shrugged. "You’d be surprised how many fail to meet it."

Before you could respond, Rook was already spinning grand plans. "Imagine the adventures we will have! Scaling mountains, crafting elixirs, nurturing delicate blossoms—ah, the poetry of science!" He clasped his hands to his chest, radiating so much joy that you were worried he’d break into song.

Trey, ever the grounded one, sighed fondly. "What he means is: we do a little bit of everything. Growing plants, chemistry experiments, cooking—you’ll fit right in. Assuming Rook doesn’t scare you off first."

Rook turned to Trey with an exaggerated gasp, as if the very suggestion of him being overwhelming was the greatest insult he’d ever received. "Chevalier des Roses, how could you wound me so?" He turned back to you with a theatrical flourish. "Fear not! I shall be your guide, your companion, your—"

"Assistant," Trey cut in, giving you a knowing look. "We'll assist you. Don’t let him take over your projects."

You grinned, feeling oddly at home already. Between Rook’s boundless enthusiasm and Trey’s steadying presence, you realized the science club might just be the perfect balance of chaos and calm.

Pop Music Club

When you announced your decision to join the Pop Music Club, Lilia was the first to react. He shot up from his chair with a dramatic flourish, his cape—where did the cape come from?—billowing as if on cue.

"Ah, an excellent choice! Welcome to the most electrifying club in the entire school!" Lilia declared, his voice reverberating like an arena announcer. He played an imaginary riff on an air guitar, complete with sound effects that you were almost certain were magically amplified.

Kalim clapped his hands, beaming as brightly as the sun. "This is going to be so much fun! We can sing duets, make up dances, throw a party for every new song we write—oh! We should have a welcome party for you right now!" He was already halfway to grabbing balloons out of thin air before Cater stopped him.

"Easy there, Kalim," Cater said with a laugh, pulling out his phone to snap a picture. "We haven’t even started jamming yet! Gotta document this first—‘New Member Alert 🚨🎶! Welcome to the coolest club at NRC!’” He posed next to you, flipping through filters. "Ooh, should we do a pastel vibe or go all-out neon?"

"Why not both?" Lilia suggested, somehow holding a tambourine he hadn’t been holding two seconds ago. He shook it with gusto, the jingles creating an impromptu beat.

Kalim joined in instantly, dancing around the room with energy that could probably power a small city. "This is going to be amazing! Do you play any instruments? Can you sing? Or maybe you’ll write the songs? Wait, can you do all three?!"

Before you could answer, Lilia leaned in with a conspiratorial grin. "Don’t worry, even if you’re terrible, I can teach you. After all, I’ve had centuries of experience."

"Centuries of experience at what exactly?" you asked, though you weren’t entirely sure you wanted the answer.

"Everything," Lilia replied cryptically, shaking the tambourine once more for emphasis.

Cater gave you a wink. "Don’t let him intimidate you. He’s mostly harmless. Mostly."

As the chaos swirled around you, you realized joining the Pop Music Club was probably going to be as much about managing everyone’s energy as it was about making music.

But looking at their genuine excitement, you couldn’t help but feel you’d made the right choice. It was going to be loud, unpredictable, and—most importantly—a lot of fun.

Equestrian Club

When you chose the Equestrian Club, Riddle’s reaction was immediate and deeply Riddle. He straightened his posture, cleared his throat, and gave you a small but dignified nod, though his ears turned the faintest shade of pink.

“A wise decision,” he said primly, but his voice wavered just enough to give away his excitement. “The Equestrian Club values discipline and care, and I trust you will uphold those values. Welcome.” He paused, then added with uncharacteristic softness, “I’m glad you chose us.”

Sebek, on the other hand, reacted with his usual intensity, which was to say, very loudly.

“AS EXPECTED OF SOMEONE WITH DISCERNING TASTE!” Sebek bellowed, saluting for no discernible reason. “THE EQUESTRIAN CLUB IS A PLACE OF HONOR AND DILIGENCE. YOU HAVE MADE THE RIGHT CHOICE, AND I, SEBEK ZIGVOLT, SHALL PERSONALLY ENSURE YOU MEET OUR HIGH STANDARDS!”

“You’re going to scare the horses,” Silver muttered, patting a dozing mare who didn’t even flinch at Sebek’s volume. Clearly, she’d built up an immunity.

Silver turned to you with a sleepy but genuine smile. “Welcome. It’ll be nice having another person around who actually seems calm. I’ll show you the best places to ride, and we’ll make sure you’re comfortable with the horses.”

“And with the rules,” Riddle interjected, already retrieving a stack of laminated pages. “Equestrian care is not something to take lightly. You’ll need to memorize these guidelines to ensure both your safety and that of the horses.”

Sebek leaned over your shoulder to inspect the stack and immediately saluted again. “AN EXCELLENT INITIATIVE, HOUSEWARDEN ROSEHEARTS! I, TOO, WILL MEMORIZE THESE IN CASE THEY EVER REQUIRE REINFORCEMENT!”

“I think they’re fine,” Silver said. “We don’t need to make this harder than it needs to be.”

Riddle frowned. “Standards exist for a reason, Silver. Though I appreciate your enthusiasm, perhaps we can—Sebek, stop shouting—perhaps we can go over the basics first before overwhelming them.”

As Riddle and Sebek debated, Silver handed you a carrot to feed one of the horses. “Don’t worry,” he said, as the horse happily munched away. “It’s not as intense as it seems. Usually.”

You glanced at the stack of rules in Riddle’s hand and the fervent look in Sebek’s eyes. It was definitely going to be an adjustment. But seeing how genuinely happy they all were to have you—yes, even Sebek—you felt like this would be worth it.

Magift Club

When you announced your decision to join the Magift Club as their manager, the reaction was instantaneous and… surprisingly chaotic.

Ruggie let out a whoop, immediately dropping to the floor in a mock bow. "Ayo, everyone, bow to the boss! Finally, someone who can keep this circus in line!"

Leona, lounging on the sidelines, cracked open an eye and smirked. “’Bout time. Herbivores usually flake out, but I knew you were better than the rest.” He stretched lazily, like he’d personally orchestrated your decision. “Just keep the snacks coming, and we’ll get along fine.”

Epel looked between them and grinned, his enthusiasm much more grounded. “It’s great to have ya! With you around, maybe Leona will actually show up to warmups... or not just sleep through it.” He shot a pointed glance at their captain, who was, of course, ignoring him entirely.

“Eh,” Leona drawled, flicking his tail dismissively.

“You could work on that attitude,” you muttered, earning a low chuckle from him.

“See, I told you they’d fit right in!” Ruggie said, gesturing at you dramatically. “They’re already roasting him. This is gonna be great!”

Epel, suddenly inspired, added, “And they’ll keep Ruggie from stealing the fresh apple juice we get after games. That’s worth it alone.”

As the reality of your new role settled in, you felt a bit like a lion tamer walking into a den of mischievous cubs and one very lazy big cat. But their enthusiasm—expressed in their own peculiar ways—was endearing.

Ruggie threw an arm around your shoulder. “Alright, boss, first order of business: snacks! Let’s discuss our game day budget and whether I can convince you to sneak me a sandwich before practice.”

Leona snorted but didn’t argue, which you took as a sign of approval. Epel pumped his fist. “We’re gonna crush it this year!”

Maybe managing this bunch wouldn’t be so bad after all. If nothing else, it’d definitely be entertaining.

Mountain Lovers Club

When you joined Jade for a hike to "test the waters" of the Mountain Lovers Club, you had your doubts. You were prepared for a lot of things—maybe getting lost in the wilderness, maybe Jade pulling out his eerie cryptid knowledge, or maybe just a weirdly formal lecture about moss. What you weren’t prepared for was… actually enjoying yourself.

Jade led the way with an unhurried confidence, pointing out various wild plants, their uses, and fun facts about the environment. He wasn’t his usual enigmatic self, either. He seemed lighter, almost enthusiastic, as he described a tiny wildflower you would’ve missed entirely.

“This particular species only blooms during the autumn months,” he said, crouching to show you. “Quite fascinating how it adapts to the cooler temperatures, don’t you think?”

You nodded, trying not to stare too hard at how his face lit up when he spoke. Jade was… cute? When he wasn’t talking about mushrooms in a way that made you question your mortality, he was actually kind of charming.

By the time you reached a rocky outcrop with a gorgeous view of the campus, you realized you’d been smiling for most of the hike. Jade noticed too.

“It seems I’ve made a decent impression,” he said, turning toward you with a soft grin. “I’m pleased to see you enjoying yourself.”

“It’s… relaxing,” you admitted, surprising even yourself. “I didn’t think it’d be this fun.”

Jade tilted his head. “Does that mean you’d consider joining the Mountain Lovers Club?”

You hesitated for a moment, but as you looked at the breathtaking view and the rare, genuine smile on his face, the answer came easily. “Yeah. I’ll join.”

For a split second, Jade’s eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly schooled his expression into his usual composed smile. “Wonderful. I must say, I wasn’t expecting this outcome, but I’m glad. It’s not every day someone sees the beauty in what I love.”

There was an odd warmth in his voice that made your heart skip a beat. As he turned to lead the way back, he added, “Now that we’re a team, I look forward to our next adventure.”

Jade Leech was genuinely happy. And, you realized, so were you.

Gargoyle Research Society

When you told Malleus you were joining the Gargoyle Research Society, his reaction was almost imperceptible at first. A slight widening of his eyes, a pause as though he was waiting to see if you were serious, and then—pure, unfiltered delight.

"You have an interest in gargoyles?" he asked, his voice both surprised and reverent, as if you'd just confessed to enjoying a rare and ancient art form.

You nodded. "Yeah. I think they're fascinating. The designs, the history… They’re like stone guardians with stories etched into them."

For a moment, Malleus simply looked at you, his emerald eyes shimmering like the light of distant stars. Then, as if unable to contain his joy, he smiled—a soft, genuine expression that sent a wave of warmth through the chilly Ramshackle evening.

"This pleases me greatly," he said, his tone unusually light. “Not many share my appreciation for gargoyles. Often, I speak of them, and others… how do I put it? Pretend to listen.”

“Well, I’m definitely not pretending,” you said, grinning. “I’m in for real.”

Malleus clasped his hands together in what could only be described as regal excitement. "Then I must share something with you. Sometimes, I create gargoyles myself."

“You what?” you asked, laughing in delight.

“Yes,” he replied earnestly, his eyes alight. “Carving stone requires patience, but there is a certain satisfaction in breathing life into something lifeless. Well, not literal life, of course, but a soul of sorts.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again, the image of Malleus with a chisel and hammer popping into your head. “I never would have guessed. That’s… really cool.”

“I can show you some of my creations, if you’d like,” he offered, almost shyly.

“I’d love that,” you said, genuinely glad to have joined him. “I think I’m going to enjoy this club.”

The glow in his expression was impossible to miss. It wasn’t just that you had joined his club—it was that, for once, someone truly shared his passion. “And I am glad to have you,” he said softly.

In that moment, under the watchful eyes of the stone guardians scattered around campus, it felt like you had chosen exactly the right place.

Masterlist

tags: @techno-danger

[hoshifighting]

LYLAAAAAAAAA OMG ILYSM EAT ABD SKEEP AND DRINK WELL!!!

if you don't mind a req, Jihoon (or svt reaction) when he finds how good it feels to use a shower spray against the hoohaa

clit stimulation using shower spray w woozi <33

WARNINGS: situationship!woozi, bath sex, using shower head to masturbate, dirty talk, mentions of body fluids (cum)

it always started like this with jihoon—blurred lines that somehow felt crystal clear when you were with him. like, you knew what it was, but did you really? dude would pass by your place at 10 p.m. like, “you eat yet? i got chicken katsu.” then, five hours later, he’s snoring on your couch, legs tangled with yours, an arm slung over your stomach like he lived there. and yeah, maybe he didn’t outright say things, but actions...oh, he was fluent.

tonight wasn’t any different. except it was.

you were mid-rant to your group chat about some guy hitting on you at the café when jihoon’s name popped up. jihoon: "should i bring dumplings or ramen? heading over." like. no question if you wanted him over; just straight vibes of "you good? i’m on my way."

fast-forward, and somehow, you ended up here—in the shower, your body pressed up against the tiles while jihoon held your leg like he was tuning a guitar. the steam made everything feel hazy, as he rinsed the soapy bubbles from your body.

the shower spray hit your inner thigh, the pressure tracing lazy lines up to places he wasn’t even aiming for. “lift a little,” he mumbled, voice low like the water could hear him. his hand slid behind your knee, steadying you like it wasn’t a big deal, but when that stream hit right at your clit. your breath stuttered, sharp enough to make his brows knit together.

“what?” he asked, head tilting like a curious cat. the fucker.

you shook your head, mortified.

his lips twitched, like he didn’t fully buy it, but he adjusted the angle anyway, aiming higher. too high. a broken moan fell out of your mouth, and your hand flew to his shoulder, digging in like it could stop time. it didn’t.

jihoon froze, the stream still very much pressing where it shouldn’t. “wait.” his tone was careful, but the corners of his mouth betrayed him. “does that—does it feel good?”

you groaned, smacking your forehead against his collarbone. “don’t.”

“i’m not judging!” he insisted, but the joy in his voice was hella obvious. “just—wait. do you do this by yourself? like, on purpose?”

“oh my god, stop talking.” you could feel your face burning, like the steam was actively conspiring against you.

jihoon chuckled under his breath, this low, knowing sound that made your embarrassment worse. “okay, okay. no answer needed.” he adjusted the spray, the water softening into a gentler stream, but he didn’t let go of your leg. didn’t pull away either.

the shower went silent for a beat, save for the soft patter of water hitting tiles. you thought that was it—mortification over, donezo. until jihoon, of course, had to ruin it.

“so... you want me to keep going?”

your gaze flickered to him, catching the way his eyes softened regardless the sneer tugging at his lips. you bit your lip, heart pounding louder than the water. and then, quietly, like you were confessing to a crime, you mumbled, “mhmm.”

his grip on your leg tightened just a fraction, his smirk deepening. “okay,” he whispered, so gentle it made your chest ache. “just relax, yeah?”

his hand tightened around your thigh like he was steadying himself, except you knew it was for you. the spray hadn’t moved yet, still teasing the edge of your inner thigh, the warm water trailing in lazy streaks down your skin. jihoon adjusted his grip slightly, his thumb grazing the back of your knee.

“you good?” his voice was soft, almost too soft, and when you peeked up at him, his eyes weren’t mocking anymore. he looked focused. calm. it made your chest twist in ways you weren’t ready to deal with.

you nodded, swallowing hard. “yeah.”

“okay.” he glanced down, adjusting the showerhead with his free hand, the click of the spray setting sounding far too loud in the intimate quiet of the bathroom. then, like he’d done it a thousand times before, he tilted the stream closer, the water landing in a direct line that made your toes curl.

“jihoon—” your voice cracked, half his name, half a choke, and your body jolted on reflex. the spray circled over your clit, not quite a flick but not soft either, the pressure just shy of overwhelming.

he paused instantly, pulling the water back. “too much?”

“no, no,” you rushed, your hand gripping his shoulder like it was your lifeline. “just—fuck, i wasn’t ready.”

his lips curved into the faintest smirk, a tiny dimple ghosting one cheek. “should’ve said something. i could’ve warned you.”

you grumbled, heat blooming up your neck, he was already moving again, guiding the water in slow circles. it was gentle at first, the warmth rolling over you, but as he shifted his wrist, tilting the angle just slightly, the stream narrowed, honing in on that one spot.

your hips bucked forward, a strangled whine slipping from your throat, and jihoon chuckled low under his breath. “there it is,” he murmured, almost like he was talking to himself. “feels good, hmm?”

you wanted to snap at him, to tell him to stop talking like he wasn’t wrecking you in the middle of your own bathroom, but the words dissolved into a needy moan as he flicked the stream upward, the water hitting just right. your fingers dug into his arm, and you swore your knees might give out.

“careful,” he said, his tone shifting to something softer, his hand sliding to cup your hip as his forearm holds the back of your knee now, grounding you. “don’t go falling on me now.”

“easy for you to say,” you bit out, your voice trembling, but he only hummed in response.

he switched the spray again, this time narrowing it even more, and when he angled it just below your clit, letting the water ripple against you in a teasing rhythm, your head tipped back against the tile. “holy fuck,” you choked, legs trembling.

jihoon’s smirk widened, but his grip didn’t falter. “yeah?” he asked. “you like that, hmm?”

your only response was a broken whimper, and his hand flexed against your hip like he was fighting the urge to pull you closer. “relax,” he murmured, his voice steady even as his own breath hitched slightly. “just let it happen. i got you.”

you did relax, maybe too much, because the next moment, your leg wobbled, your body sliding just enough to make you panic. but jihoon moved instantly, catching you before you could even process it, his arm locking around your waist while he adjusted the spray back to that perfect rhythm.

“gotcha,” he said, and there was something in his voice—pride, maybe, or just satisfaction at the way you melted into him. “thought you were gonna make me work for it.”

you glared weakly at him, your cheeks burning, but it only made him laugh, the sound soft and familiar, grounding you even as your body threatened to unravel.

“don’t worry,” he added, his voice dipping as the spray circled again, the pressure building making your vision blur. “i’m not stopping ‘til you’re begging me to.”

jihoon adjusted the spray again, sharper now, the stream jolting directly onto your clit. it wasn’t gentle, wasn’t soft. the sound that ripped from your throat wasn’t human, and your body arched against the tile, your back curving like a bowstring pulled too tight. your neck stretched, your breasts lifting as your lungs fought for air, and he didn’t move.

he just watched. studied, really. his eyes darted between yours, flicking from one to the other, then down to your parted lips, swollen and trembling. but then, as if he couldn’t resist, his gaze fell lower, trailing the path of your shivering belly, your chest rising and falling in frantic bursts.

his grip on your waist tightened, keeping you steady as your legs buckled again. the way you shook wasn’t subtle—your entire body was trembling, your muscles pulled taut under his hands. but jihoon didn’t stop. he tilted the stream slightly, letting the water flick at just the right angle again, and the sound that escaped you was downright obscene, echoing off the walls of the bathroom.

“fuck, jihoon—” your voice cracked on his name, and the way his lips twitched into a barely-there smirk made you want to scream for an entirely different reason.

“yes?” he asked, his tone smooth, but his breath wasn’t. it was uneven, shaky, like he was feeling this just as much as you were. “i can feel it—you’re so close.”

he was right. too right. the pressure built and built, your thighs clenching around nothing as your core tightened, heat pooling low in your belly and spilling over. the water, the angle, his goddamn voice—it was all too much.

“hoon, i—fuck, i’m—” the words dissolved into a scream as your orgasm tore through you. your hips jerked forward, your body trembling uncontrollably as the spray kept hitting that same devastating spot. your moans were loud, messy, your breath hitching in sobs as your climax rolled on.

jihoon didn’t move, his hand firm on your waist, keeping you upright as your legs gave out completely. he looked mesmerized, his jaw tight, his eyes flickering between your face and your trembling pussy. “fuck,” he whispered like he didn’t mean for you to hear it.

but the spray didn’t let up. even as you sagged against him, your hands clutching his arms for dear life, the water kept its merciless rhythm, and your overstimulated nerves lit up like fireworks. “jihoon,” you whimpered. “s-stop—too much, it’s—”

he blinked out of his trance, his fingers brushing your hip in silent reassurance before he turned the showerhead aside, finally giving you mercy. the sudden absence of stimulation left you gasping.

jihoon’s gaze dropped, and when he saw it—saw the string of your cum clinging to your folds before dripping down to the tile—his breath hitched. it was wet, but wasn’t water; it couldn’t have been. it was too viscous, too familiar. the memory of your taste, sweet and unique flickered in his mind, and he swallowed hard.

[goldfades]

CINDERELLA───JOE BURROW

request: "Reader is going out with girlies and dressed sexy that joe almost got mad at reader cuz he doesn’t want reader going out with that dress and suddenly obsessed with boobies and told reader they cant breath in that dress" for @crispppykreme

The dress wasn’t new, but it might as well have been, given how long it had languished at the back of your closet. A slinky little thing, sleek black with a neckline that danced on the edge of scandal and just enough shimmer to catch the light in all the right places. It was the kind of dress that didn’t just suggest confidence—it demanded it.

You were proud of how you looked, admiring yourself in the full-length mirror, twisting slightly to check every angle. The effort had paid off: hair done, makeup sharp, heels that made your legs look miles long. Tonight was about the girlies, a rare night out that wasn’t dinner and wine but cocktails and dancing, the kind of carefree, late-night escapades you hadn’t had in months.

Joe had been fine about it earlier, or at least you thought he had. There was an absentminded “Have fun, baby,” thrown your way when you’d mentioned your plans this morning. But now, as his eyes scanned you from head to toe like he was taking inventory, you could feel the tension radiating off him from across the room.

“You’re really wearing that?” His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried an edge that made you freeze mid-reach for your clutch. You turned slowly, eyebrow raised, trying to read the expression on his face.

“Uh, yeah? What’s wrong with it?” You kept your tone light, playful, even though the way he was looking at you made your skin prickle. Joe wasn’t one to throw around his opinions about your outfits, and honestly, you appreciated that about him. He knew you had your own style, your own vibe. But tonight? Something about tonight had apparently made him forget that.

He stepped closer, his hand running down his face as he let out a slow, deliberate sigh. “It’s not that it’s bad. It’s just…” His gaze dropped to your chest, and he gestured vaguely in that direction. “That dress. I mean, are you sure it’s comfortable? They—uh, you—don’t look like you can even breathe in it.”

For a second, you just blinked at him, your brain scrambling to catch up. Then it hit you, and the corner of your mouth twitched despite yourself.

“Oh,” you said, the teasing lilt unmistakable. “That’s what this is about.”

Joe crossed his arms, clearly trying to play it cool, but the flush creeping up his neck betrayed him. “I’m just saying. It’s kind of… tight, don’t you think?”

You couldn't stop the grin spreading across your face, even as Joe tried—and failed—to keep his cool. He was too easy to read, the faint crease between his brows giving him away completely.

“Oh, come on,” you teased, grabbing your clutch and turning back toward the mirror. “You’ve seen me wear tighter.”

“That’s not the point,” he shot back, his voice firmer now, enough to make you glance at him in the mirror. He was standing with his arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe like some kind of judgmental Greek statue, all broad shoulders and furrowed brows.

“Then what is the point, Joe?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “Because I’m getting the vibe that it’s not about how tight this dress is.”

He huffed, running a hand through his hair in that way he always did when he was trying to sort through his words. “The point is,” he said slowly, “you’re going out looking like… like that. And I know exactly how guys are gonna act when they see you.”

You turned around now, giving him your full attention. “Guys? Plural? Is that what this is about?”

“It’s not about guys,” he said quickly, but the words came out too rushed, too defensive. He shifted his weight, unfolding his arms, clearly trying to walk the line between annoyed and reasonable. “It’s about… I don’t know. I just don’t want anyone thinking they can look at you like that.”

“Like what?” you asked, stepping closer, biting back a laugh as you pressed your palm to his chest. His heartbeat thumped steadily beneath your hand, but you could feel the tension in him.

“Like… like you’re up for grabs or something.” His jaw clenched, and his eyes darted away from yours, like saying it out loud embarrassed him.

You blinked, genuinely taken aback for a moment. “Joey,” you said, softening your tone, “you realize that’s not how this works, right? Just because I look good doesn’t mean I’m inviting attention. And even if someone does look—so what? I’m coming home to you.”

His eyes flicked back to yours at that, softening slightly, but his lips pressed into a stubborn line. “Yeah, but you’re mine,” he muttered, the words barely audible but so pointed they hung heavy in the air.

You couldn’t help it—you burst out laughing. “Yours?” you repeated, shaking your head in disbelief. “What, are you going to put a sticker on me that says ‘Property of Joe Burrow’?”

He groaned, his hand raking through his hair again. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

“Do I?” you shot back, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “Because it kinda sounds like you’re saying I can’t wear what I want unless it gets your approval.”

“That’s not what I’m saying at all!” he said quickly, but the way his ears were turning pink made you think he was second-guessing himself.

“Then what?” you asked, crossing your arms now, mirroring his earlier stance. “Because, if you think I’m changing out of this dress just because it makes you nervous, you’ve got another thing coming.”

He stared at you for a moment, his jaw working, clearly torn between frustration and surrender. “It’s not nervous,” he mumbled finally. “It’s just… look, you’re too damn sexy, okay? There. I said it. And I'm not there to make sure nobody thinks they can have you.”

You raised an eyebrow, your grin growing wider. “Ohhh, I see,” you said, dragging out the words. “So, this isn’t about the dress at all. It’s about you being jealous.”

His face scrunched like he wanted to deny it, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he settled for muttering, “I’m not jealous.”

“Right,” you said, stepping closer to him again. “Because you’re totally fine with me going out looking like a ‘damn goddess,’ as I’m sure some guy at the bar is going to say.”

Joe groaned again, tipping his head back against the doorframe. “Do you have to do this?”

“Yes,” you said brightly, standing on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “Because it’s fun watching you squirm.”

He sighed, his hands finally coming to rest on your hips, pulling you in closer. “I’m serious, though,” he said, his voice lower now, quieter. “You look amazing. Too amazing. And I trust you—I do—but that doesn’t mean I trust every drunk guy who’s gonna see you tonight.”

“I can handle drunk guys,” you said softly, wrapping your arms around his neck. “And besides, you know I’d never let anyone get too close.”

“I know,” he admitted, resting his forehead against yours. “I just hate the idea of someone thinking they even have a chance.”

“Well, they don’t,” you said simply, smiling up at him. “You’re the only one who gets to peel me out of this dress later.”

His lips twitched into a smirk at that, and you could feel some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “Yeah, you’re damn right I am.”

You grinned, giving him another quick peck on the lips before stepping back. “Now, are you done being dramatic, or do I need to remind you that this is my night out?”

He sighed, letting his arms drop but not stepping back. “Fine,” he said, though his tone still had a hint of reluctance. “But if you’re not home by midnight, I’m calling.”

You laughed, grabbing your Chanel clutch and heading for the door. “Sure, Cinderella. Whatever you say.”

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↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[the-winter-spider]

Invisible | Part 19

Bucky x Reader AU

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Nothing

A/N: This is lowkey a pretty boring chapter lol but i really didnt wanna just jump right into the next bit, so ill probably post the next one right after!

The bar was alive with the familiar buzz of laughter, clinking glasses, and low music, but tonight felt different. Tonight, you and Bucky weren’t just walking into your usual booth as friends, as two people who danced around each other for years. Tonight, you were something more, and everyone would know it.

Bucky’s hand brushed against yours as you entered, a subtle but grounding gesture. His fingers lingered, warm and steady, before he finally slid his arm around your waist. You glanced up at him, catching the small, reassuring smile he shot your way. For years, you’d craved moments like this. Now, they were real, and the world felt a little steadier.

Sam was the first to notice, his gaze snapping to the two of you as you approached the booth. He froze mid-sip of his beer, his eyes widening before he stood up dramatically, spreading his arms wide. “Well, holy shit! Would you look at this! Holding hands and everything! Hallelujah—finally!!”

The table fell silent, all eyes turning toward you. Natasha and Wanda exchanged knowing smirks, and Steve, seated in his usual corner spot, leaned forward slightly, his sharp blue eyes narrowing as he took it all in.

Bucky chuckled low in his throat, squeezing your waist as he nudged you forward. “Well,” he said, smirking at Sam, “someone had to put you out of your misery eventually.”

“Oh, please,” Sam shot back, grinning. “My misery? Barnes, you’ve been in love with her since the dinosaurs roamed the earth. I’m just glad the rest of us don’t have to watch you suffer anymore.”

Wanda let out an excited squeal, practically jumping up to pull you into a tight hug. “Finally!” she exclaimed. “You two were driving me crazy. I’m so happy for you!”

You laughed softly, the warmth of their reactions easing the tension that had been building in your chest all week. “Thanks, Wanda,” you murmured. “It means a lot.”

Natasha leaned back against the booth, crossing her arms with a smug grin. “Took you long enough,” she drawled. “But I’ll admit, the slow burn was fun to watch. Better than reality TV.”

The group burst into laughter, the energy at the table light and easy. Bucky slid into the booth, pulling you down beside him. His arm rested casually along the back of your seat, his fingers brushing against your shoulder as if he couldn’t help but touch you.

But then your eyes flicked to Steve.

He hadn’t said anything yet. He was sitting in his usual corner spot, nursing a glass of whiskey, his face calm but carefully guarded. His eyes flicked between you and Bucky for a fraction of a second before he finally smiled—a polite, distant smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Congratulations,” Steve said, his tone kind but restrained. “You both deserve to be happy.”

Your stomach twisted. The cracks in his mask were subtle, but you could see them. You wanted to say something, to reassure him that this didn’t change anything between you, but before you could find the words, Steve leaned back in his seat and took a long sip of his drink, effectively removing himself from the moment.

You forced yourself to smile, but your chest felt tight. Bucky’s hand brushed against your shoulder, pulling your attention back to him. “You good?” he murmured, his blue eyes searching yours.

You nodded, offering him a soft smile. “Yeah. I’m good.”

But as the group started talking and laughing again, you couldn’t help but notice the way Steve’s eyes lingered on his drink. And when Natasha leaned across the table to whisper something to Wanda, you caught her glance at Steve, her gaze filled with something you couldn’t quite place—longing, frustration, maybe even sadness.

Your chest tightened further. You were happy, truly, but there was an unshakable weight that came with knowing the ripple effects your relationship with Bucky had on the group. The laughter continued around you, and Bucky’s arm stayed firmly around your shoulders, his warmth anchoring you. But every time you met Steve’s eyes across the table, a small pang of guilt twisted in your stomach.

You weren’t just navigating a new chapter with Bucky; you were navigating the fragile balance of a friendship that felt more delicate than ever. And as you caught Natasha watching Steve, who was watching you.

The bar was alive with the warm buzz of chatter and laughter, your group nestled into the corner booth like you always were, drinks scattered across the table. For the first time in what felt like forever, things felt… normal. Easy.

Sam was halfway through an animated story about one of his more adventurous days at the VA, his hands flying around as he described some “wild” shuffleboard tournament involving a 92-year-old named Agnes. “And I swear to God, she hustled me. Agnes had that killer glint in her eye. I didn’t stand a chance.”

Everyone burst out laughing, Wanda clutching her stomach while Natasha shook her head, muttering, “Should’ve seen that coming, Wilson. Never trust anyone with that much bingo experience.”

Bucky’s laugh came deep and unrestrained, his head tilting back as his free hand squeezed your leg. His other hand, resting on your knee, gently rubbed small circles into your skin as if grounding you, even through his laughter. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver of happiness through you. You looked over at him, your chest tightening when you saw the pure joy in his face, the crinkle of his eyes, the twinkle in them as they caught the low bar light. This was your Bucky. This was home.

And in that moment, everything felt right. The weight of the last few weeks lifted, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to simply exist in the bubble of joy that surrounded your friends.

But then, your gaze wandered.

Across the table, Natasha sat beside Steve, her hand casually toying with the edge of her glass. At first, it was nothing out of the ordinary—Natasha, composed as always, listening to the group’s banter with her usual smirk. But then, as Steve leaned forward to share his own jab at Sam, her eyes lingered.

And that’s when you saw it. Really saw it. The way her gaze softened as she looked at Steve. The way her lips quirked into the faintest of smiles, one that seemed reserved only for him. The way her fingers, usually so deliberate and precise, nervously traced patterns on the rim of her glass. It hit you like a freight train— how could you have been so oblivious before?

Your stomach dropped, and your mind spun. How had you missed this? All the little moments, the quiet exchanges, the way her demeanor shifted when he was around—it all clicked into place, a puzzle you hadn’t even realized you were holding.

Steve, blissfully unaware, was chuckling at Sam’s next ridiculous quip, his broad shoulders shaking as he leaned back in the booth. Natasha’s eyes followed him, her expression softening further, almost imperceptibly.

You wanted to say something, to acknowledge it somehow, but before you could, the server appeared with a tray of shots, breaking the moment. “Alright, next round!” the server announced, setting the tray down with a flourish.

Everyone cheered, grabbing their glasses and raising them high. Bucky leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. “You okay?” he asked softly, his hand giving your leg a gentle squeeze.

You forced a smile, nodding as you grabbed a shot. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

His eyes lingered on you for a second longer, searching, before he smiled and pressed a quick kiss to your temple. “You worry too much sweet girl, but im here no matter what's going on in that pretty little head” he murmured, his words a promise.

The group clinked glasses, Sam yelling, “To Agnes and her ruthless shuffleboard skills!” before throwing back his drink. The warmth of the whiskey burned your throat, but it didn’t quite chase away the new weight in your chest.

As the night carried on, the laughter and teasing continued, but your eyes kept drifting back to Natasha and Steve. You couldn’t unsee it now, couldn’t ignore the quiet longing in her gaze, the way she seemed to absorb every little thing Steve did. And for the first time, you realized just how deeply entwined all of your lives were—how every choice, every relationship, every word could ripple through your group in ways none of you could fully predict.

But for now, you let yourself focus on the warmth of Bucky beside you, his hand never leaving yours, his laugh like a lifeline tethering you to the present. Whatever the future held—for Steve, for Natasha, for all of you—you’d face it together. But tonight? Tonight, you’d hold onto this moment, this joy, just a little bit longer.

When the night finally wound down, Steve excused himself before the rest of the group, his usual good-natured demeanor replaced by a quiet reserve. His steps were quick, purposeful, like he needed to get away before anyone could stop him. But you couldn’t let him leave like this.

“Steve,” you called softly, your voice catching in your throat.

He paused, his shoulders stiff as he slowly turned to face you. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket, his face calm and composed—but his eyes betrayed him, dark and heavy with emotions he couldn’t hide. “Hey,” he said, his tone too casual, too forced. “What’s up?”

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you took a tentative step closer. The cool night air bit at your skin, but it was nothing compared to the ache in your chest. “I just… I need to know if you’re okay.”

Steve’s lips twitched into a faint smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. It never did these days. “Of course, I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Steve,” you said more firmly, your brows furrowing as you searched his face. “You don’t have to lie to me. I know this is… hard. And if you need anything, if you need time away from me, I—”

“No,” he cut you off, his voice low but resolute. “I don’t need space. I don’t want space. I don’t want to lose you, even if…” He trailed off, his jaw clenching slightly before he continued. “Even if things feel complicated right now.”

His words twisted something inside you, and for a moment, all you could do was nod. “I don’t want to lose you either,” you whispered. “I just—I don’t know how to make this easier for you.”

Steve let out a quiet laugh, but it was bitter, devoid of humor. He ran a hand through his hair, his fingers tugging at the strands like he was trying to ground himself. “You can’t, and I wouldn’t ask you to. It’s not your job to make this easier for me.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but the weight in his gaze stopped you.

“Look,” he said, his voice softer now, tinged with resignation. “I’m happy for you. For both of you. I’ll figure out the rest on my own. I always do.”

The silence between you was deafening, and you could feel the walls Steve had so carefully built pressing between you. You hated it—hated that you couldn’t bridge the gap, that you couldn’t fix this.

Finally, he sighed, shaking his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. “You know,” he began, his tone quiet but laden with sadness, “there was a time I thought maybe… if I’d said something sooner, things would’ve been different.”

Your heart clenched painfully, and you couldn’t stop the tears that welled in your eyes. “Steve…”

He gave you a small, sad smile, waving off your words. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault. I didn’t, and that’s on me. But it’s not all bad. You’ve got your happy ending now, and… I’ll find mine eventually.”

You reached out instinctively, your fingers wrapping gently around his hand. “You deserve the world, Steve. And when you find someone, they’re going to be the luckiest girl alive.”

His smile faltered, just for a second, before he nodded. “Yeah,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe.”

The sound of the bar door opening behind you pulled you both from the moment. You glanced over your shoulder, and there was Bucky, stepping out into the cool air. His expression softened as his eyes landed on you, and without hesitation, he walked over, his hand finding its place on the small of your back. The touch was subtle, comforting, but it carried a weight you couldn’t ignore.

Bucky’s voice was gentle but edged with curiosity. “Everything okay?”

You nodded quickly, brushing at your cheek as you turned back to him. “Yeah. Just needed a minute with Steve.”

Bucky’s gaze flicked to Steve, and there was a moment of silence, a quiet understanding passing between them. “Hey, man,” Bucky said, his tone genuine. “Can we talk for a second?”

You hesitated, your gaze bouncing between the two of them, but Steve gave you a reassuring nod. “Go on,” you murmured to Bucky, stepping slightly to the side.

Bucky leaned down, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’ll see you inside,” he murmured, before turning to Steve.

As they moved a few steps away, you stayed rooted to the spot, watching them. Your heart felt heavy but strangely hopeful as Bucky and Steve exchanged quiet words, their silhouettes outlined by the streetlights. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but you could see the respect in their stances, the way they were trying—really trying—to make this work.

The silence between them stretched, thick and heavy like the weight of all the years they’d shared. The hum of the bar behind them was a distant echo, muted compared to the tension in the cool night air.

Bucky leaned forward, his elbows braced on his knees, his head bowed slightly. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, raw. “Steve… I never wanted to hurt you. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I just—”

“Stop,” Steve interrupted, holding up a hand, his tone resigned but calm. “You don’t have to explain, Buck. I’ve had plenty of time to figure it out.” He let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head as his gaze flicked up to meet Bucky’s. “She was always meant for you. I get that.”

Bucky froze, guilt and sorrow etched into every line of his face. “That doesn’t make it right,” he said hoarsely. “You’re my best friend, Steve. And I—”

“You love her,” Steve said, cutting him off again, his voice softer now but no less certain. “And she loves you. That’s all that matters.”

Bucky’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. The words should have offered relief, but they only deepened the ache in his chest. “It’s not that simple,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “It’s never been that simple. You were always there for her when I wasn’t. You picked up the pieces when I messed up. I don’t know how to fix that.”

Steve let out a long breath, leaning back against the wall, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. “It’s not about fixing anything, Buck. It’s not about me, either.” His lips curved into a sad smile. “She chose you. She’s always chosen you, even when she didn’t know it.”

Bucky’s hands clenched into fists on his knees, his knuckles whitening. “And you? You’re just supposed to what? Move on? Pretend it doesn’t hurt?”

Steve let out a dry, humorless laugh. “What else is there to do? You think I haven’t known all these years? I’ve seen the way she looks at you, Buck. The way you look at her.” He glanced down at his boots, his voice dipping lower. “I never stood a chance. Not really. But I always held out hope.”

Bucky flinched at his words, his chest tightening painfully. “Steve…”

“Don’t,” Steve said, his tone firm but not unkind. He looked up, his blue eyes steady despite the sadness swimming in them. “You don’t have to apologize for loving her, Buck. You think I wouldn’t have done the same if I were in your shoes?”

The question hung in the air, unanswered but understood. Bucky’s head dipped, his jaw working as he struggled to find the right words. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked finally, his voice quiet, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Steve hesitated, then offered a faint smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll get there,” he said honestly. “It’s not easy, but it’s not supposed to be. Just… don’t screw this up, okay? She deserves someone who’s all in. Someone who won’t run the second it gets messy.”

Bucky let out a small, broken laugh, his eyes glistening under the streetlights. “I won’t. I promise. She’s it for me, Steve.”

Steve nodded, his expression softening as he pushed off the wall. “Good. Then do right by her.” He clapped Bucky on the shoulder, his grip firm but brief, and took a step back toward the bar. “Now get inside before she starts thinking we’re out here plotting something.”

Bucky watched as Steve turned and walked back toward the entrance, his silhouette illuminated by the warm glow of the bar lights. The tension in his chest eased slightly, but the weight of their conversation lingered.

“Steve,” Bucky called after him, his voice steady but earnest.

Steve paused, glancing over his shoulder.

“Thanks,” Bucky said simply, the word carrying more weight than he could ever fully express.

Steve’s lips twitched into a small, genuine smile. “Always, Buck.”

And with that, he disappeared into the bar, leaving Bucky standing alone under the stars, more determined than ever not to let Steve—or you—down.

The morning sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a soft golden glow across the apartment. The city was still waking up, the distant hum of life filtering through the cracks of the world outside. Inside, everything was still—quiet but warm.

You shuffled out of your room, still in your oversized sleep shirt and fuzzy socks, rubbing your eyes as the smell of freshly brewed coffee hit you. The sight that greeted you was enough to make your heart do a little flip.

Bucky was standing at the stove, shirtless, his gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips. His hair was a mess of soft waves from sleep, and he had one hand on the frying pan, the other holding a spatula as he carefully flipped pancakes. The muscles in his back flexed with every movement, and for a moment, you just stood there, taking it all in.

“You’re staring, doll,” he said, his voice gravelly from sleep but tinged with amusement. He didn’t even turn around; he just knew you were there.

You smirked, padding over to the counter where the coffee pot sat waiting. “What gave it away?”

“I’ve got a sixth sense when it comes to you.” He glanced over his shoulder, a teasing grin tugging at his lips. “Or maybe I just heard you stumble into the wall on your way out here.”

You rolled your eyes, pouring yourself a mug of coffee. “It’s too early for you to start with me, Barnes.”

“Never too early,” he shot back, returning his attention to the pancakes. “Besides, you love it.”

“Debatable,” you teased, taking a sip of your coffee. You leaned against the counter, watching him move with ease around the kitchen. “What’s all this, anyway?”

“Thought I’d make you breakfast,” he said, plating a stack of pancakes and setting them on the counter. “Figured it’s the least I can do since you’re stuck with me as a roommate.”

You raised an eyebrow, grabbing a fork from the drawer. “Oh, so now you’re trying to bribe me into keeping you around?”

Bucky smirked, finally turning to face you, his arms crossing over his broad chest. “Something like that. Is it working?”

You pretended to think about it, twirling a piece of pancake on your fork. “Hmm… I don’t know. You do hog the covers at night.”

“Lies,” he countered, stepping closer and leaning against the counter beside you. “You’re the one who turns into a human burrito and leaves me with, like, a sliver of blanket.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” you admitted with a laugh. “But you snore.”

He laughed, his head tilting back, and the sound was so pure, so carefree, it made your chest ache in the best way. “I do not snore.”

“Do too.”

“You’re imagining it, baby,” he said, leaning in a little closer, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “Admit it—you just like having me close.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you love it.”

You didn’t deny it. Instead, you nudged him with your shoulder, breaking the momentary tension with a grin. “What’s the plan for guys’ night tonight?”

“Sam’s got some stupid idea about poker and whiskey,” Bucky said, rolling his eyes fondly. “Probably just gonna end with Steve lecturing us about the health risks of drinking too much.”

“And you’ll love every second of it,” you teased, taking another bite of pancake.

As you leaned back against the counter, sipping the last of your coffee, Bucky nudged your hip with his. “What’s the plan for girls’ night? Anything exciting, or is it just the usual chaos?”

You grinned, setting your mug down. “The usual. Probably face masks, way too much wine, maybe even a terrible rom-com. It’s a sacred tradition.”

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. “Sounds dangerous. You think you’ll bring up the whole Steve and Natasha thing?”

You froze for a second, his question catching you off guard. “Why would you think I’d bring that up?” you asked, feigning innocence.

He shot you a look, one eyebrow arching. “Oh, come on. I know you. It’s been bugging you since the bar last night. You think I didn’t see the way you were watching them? Your eyes were practically glued to them.”

You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest. “Yeah, well… maybe I will. She used to do it to me all the time, so I think it’s only fair.”

“Do you, though?” Bucky asked, leaning a little closer. His voice was softer now, less teasing and more thoughtful. “Do you think it’s fair to poke at her about it?”

You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes at him. “What’s with the sudden wisdom, Barnes?”

He smirked, running a hand through his hair. “I’m just saying, Nat’s not you. You’ve always been a little more… open about your feelings. She keeps her cards close, you know? You might not get the reaction you’re hoping for.”

“I’m not hoping for a reaction,” you said, though even you didn’t sound convinced. “I just… I don’t know, Buck. I’ve been thinking about how much she must’ve been holding in, how long she’s felt that way about Steve. And now I feel like an idiot for not seeing it before.”

He reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was gentle, grounding. “You’re not an idiot. You were caught up in your own stuff. Nat’s good at hiding things—trust me, I’ve been on the receiving end of that more times than I can count.”

You sighed again, the weight of everything settling in your chest. “I just feel like I should say something, you know? Like, if I don’t, it’s like I’m ignoring it. And she deserves more than that.”

Bucky tilted his head, studying you for a moment. “Just… be careful, okay? Nat’s not as tough as she makes herself seem sometimes. She’s been there for you through a lot, and I know you want to be there for her. Just… don’t push too hard.”

You nodded, his words sinking in. “You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” he teased, grinning. “I’m always right.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Barnes.”

“Hey,” he said, his grin widening as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “You’re the one who’s stuck with me now, sweetheart. Might as well get used to it.”

You tilted your head up, your eyes meeting his. “Oh, I’m used to it. Doesn’t mean I won’t call you out on your nonsense.”

“Fair enough,” he said, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your lips. “Now, promise me you won’t stir the pot too much tonight?”

You pretended to think about it, tapping your chin. “No promises.”

“Figures,” he muttered, shaking his head with mock exasperation.

As he turned back to the sink to rinse the dishes, you watched him for a moment, a warm, contented feeling blooming in your chest. It was moments like this—simple, easy mornings together—that made everything else feel worth it.

And tonight? Tonight you’d handle Natasha in your own way. You just hoped she’d be ready for it.

[sageworld]

if ur doing req for other players not just paige fans u do the nsfw alphabet but for kk? also congrats on the lesbianism 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

NSFW alphabet • KK Arnold

A • Aftercare

okay so boom, after sex is a lot of small talk, about each others days, how basketballs going for her, how schools going for you. even when you’re super sleepy, falling asleep mid sentence if kks not ready for sleep yet she’ll try and get you to keep talking to her.

B • Body part

YOUR THIGHS, kk is obsessed with them. grabbing one while she drives, rubbing on them while she eats you out, leaving hickies all on them, she can’t get enough.

C • Cum

she prefers cumming in your mouth more than your fingers, thigh, strap or pussy. she loves grabbing on your hair when she’s cumming. same in turn, she loves you cumming in her mouth, dripping all over her face.

D • Dirty secret

okay this isn’t even a secret but kk is so baby. she loves being topped by you, she’s bottom 95% of the time, even when she’s using strap on you, you’ll be riding her and she’s fucking whimper listening to you praise her.

“feels so fuck good baby, you make me feel so good kk.” you moan out, squeezing her tits from above as you ride her strap like no tomorrow. “oh my god kk, i’m gonna cum.” and she’s just a whimpering, moaning, stuttering mess while holding your hips

E • Experience

kks been with her fair share of girls before, she’s had her one nights, serious relationship or two, she knows what she’s doing & even if it’s your first wlw relationship she’s more than willing to help you learn.

F • Favorite position

she’s a ✂️ lover through and through, she likes being on top with this though. she loves watching your smaller body fall apart under her and being able to control the pace.

G • Goofy

pleaseeee this girl is hilarious, if you wanna top her when she wants to top you or vice versa she will straight up “girl boom” you and just start doing whatever she wants, (with consent ofc) making you giggle the whole way through with random little meme references.

“kk you got cum on my dress.” you whined, you guys decided on a quickie before leaving to meet up with friends at the bar, we’ll kk insisted she needed an orgasm or she would be nagging you all night to leave early. “shhh, it’s okay baby girl no one has to know.” she giggles, caressing your face from in between her thighs.

H • Hair

like i said on the paige alphabet, WE DO NOT CARE :P

I • Intimacy

while she can be serious there’s times where she locks in, whispering how much she loves you & couldn’t imagine her life with out you all while your in between her legs, a face full of pussy. she’s be playing with your hair, legs shaking, eyes slammed up with her head thrown back speaking about you like some type of goddess before crumbling apart to your tongue.

J • Jack off

she gets really shy about it but she does it often during her time away, often asking you for a picture of video when she’s gone.

New Message:

Kk<3; baby i know it’s really late for you but i need something.

you already know what she’s referring too, this falling into your regular schedule when she’s gone, you’re surprised she didn’t text sooner actually.

you; give me one second pooks

kk<3; i’ve been thinking about you all day baby, i’m so wet rn.

her words make you shiver, thinking about your poor baby having to take care of herself.

you; i wish you were here baby.

*1 attachment image

K • kink

def has a marking kink, loves seeing you covered in her hickeys, clothes, fuck it shes even gonna put her bonnet on you. she just loves letting others know your hers.

L • location

she loves your room, it’s so cozy and always smells so good. your pillows feel so soft under her head when you ride her strap & your blankets are so warm when you’re all done, naked and wrapped up in them.

M • motivation

one thing that gets her going like nothing else is seeing you in your momo, she loves your granny gowns, the sight of your perky nipples under the fabric knowing all that’s under is a dainty pair of panties.

N • no

you’re not strapping her up, simple as day. she is a bottom but it’s just not for her. she doesn’t like the feeling of it.

O • oral

she’s such a giver, but loves both. the feeling of your nose rubbing against her puffy clit while your tongue fucks her hole has her on a different planet. feeling your squirt fall down her chin? she’s in heaven.

P • pace

when Kk isn’t bottom, she’s fucking the shit out of you, rough and demanding. it’s usually like that when she’s jealous or had a bad day. when she’s bottom it’s slow and sensual, loving and tender.

Q • quickie

she loves them! they help her get through her day. she loves them anywhere, the car, your room, her room, at the bathroom in a party. she can get so needy at any time and just needs it out of her system.

R • risk

while she’s willing to do it just about anywhere somewhat out of view, she does get nervous and prefers doing it in the comfort of privacy. the riskiest you guys ever did was in a target parking lot at night when she ran out of tru fru.

S • stamina

this girl is fucking all night. when she has time she won’t stop. your pussy will be puffy and abused & she won’t stop until you start showing signs of discomfort.

“you alright, mama?” she comes up from between your legs, tears running down your face just seconds ago you crying for her to stop. “s’just too much.” you breath. “oh, im sorry baby.” she puts her face in your neck. “let me clean you up.” she rolls out the bed, going to grab a towel.

T • toy

you guys love your toys!! her favorite to use on you is a strap that has a vibrator for her attached. your favorite to use on her is a small blue vibrator, she doesn’t like anything in her but your fingers and tongue so she always reacts so pretty to it.

U • unfair

when it’s top!kk it’s so different. she’s mean and rough. she’ll edge you for what feels like hours.

“why dont you have your other girlfriend make you cum?” she hovered over your body, three fingers deep in you. “she’s not my girlfriend kk, only you i promise.” it had been at least 30 minutes since you first felt the tightening in your tummy, kks touch was gone as quick as it came. “i don’t know, seemed like it.” she pulled her fingers out, denying your release once again. “kk, please baby.” you whine. “i’ll think about it.” fingers ghosting your clit.

V • volume

she’s so loud, so vocal. she’s not afraid to voice what she wants either which you always appreciated. sometimes when you guys are playing rock paper scissors you find yourself having to cover her mouth because it’s so late and you don’t wanna wake your neighbors.

W • wild card

when you met kk, you guys were one night standing after a sigma kai party but, when you woke up in her bed and tried to sneak out she woke up. offering you a shower, some clothes that weren’t your micro dress and heels and some breakfast in exchange for your number.

X • x-ray

coochie meow meow 😸

Y • yearning

she’s so needy, she always wants you. it can be more than just sexually, she loves skin to skin, the feeling of having you so close always itches that special part in her brain

Z • zzz (sleepy)

yeah no, like in the start she does not wanna go to sleep. she tries to get you to stay up with her and talk. on the rare occasion she is sleepy, she’s fighting it, mumbling out random things to you before eventually falling asleep.

[jacqueline-01]

You're Safe With Me

A.H x Y.N

healing from toxic family, comfort, fluff

The boutique lights sparkled softly against the polished floors as you stood in front of a row of delicate necklaces. They gleamed like tiny constellations, arranged neatly on black velvet. Your fingers hovered over one—a simple gold chain with a small, crescent moon pendant. It wasn’t flashy, but something about it called to you.

You hesitated, heart pounding as your mind raced back to the echoes of your childhood.

“You don’t need that,” your mother’s sharp voice rang in your ears, cutting through the calm of the present. “Why are you even looking at things like that? Do you think we’re made of money? Do you think you deserve it?”

You could still feel the burn of embarrassment you’d felt as a child, standing in stores like this, admiring something small and simple, only to be scolded for it. Even when you’d had money of your own—birthday gifts, babysitting money—it had felt impossible to spend. Every purchase had come with scrutiny, criticism, or worse, guilt.

“You’re being selfish,” your father had once said when you’d asked for a new pair of sneakers, your old ones too worn to wear without socks showing through. “You already have shoes. Why are you wasting money on another pair?”

Aaron’s voice broke through the storm of memories, his presence grounding you. “Do you like it?” he asked, his tone gentle and encouraging.

You blinked, realizing your hand was still frozen in mid-air. “Oh, um… it’s nice,” you murmured, but the conflict inside you was already bubbling over.

He stepped closer, his steady warmth chasing the cold from your chest. “If you like it, let’s get it,” he said simply, as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

You shook your head, swallowing hard. “It’s too much,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Aaron frowned, his gaze softening as he studied you. “It’s not too much,” he said firmly. “Y/N, you don’t have to convince yourself you don’t deserve nice things. You do.”

The tears surprised you, stinging your eyes before you could stop them. “It’s just… it’s hard,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “Growing up, I wasn’t allowed to—well, I wasn’t allowed to buy anything unless it was ‘necessary.’ Even then, it was like I had to justify everything. I’d saved money for years, but it didn’t matter. It was never really mine.”

Aaron’s jaw tightened, his protective instinct kicking in as he reached for your hand. “I hate that you went through that,” he said softly. “It wasn’t fair. You were a kid—you should’ve been able to enjoy things without feeling guilty or controlled.”

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, soothing the ache of memories long buried but never forgotten.

“When I was younger,” you continued, your voice quieter now, “I remember seeing a bracelet I loved at a little shop in town. I’d saved up enough from babysitting to buy it, but my mom…” You trailed off, biting your lip as the memory surfaced. “She told me I was wasting my money. That it was stupid to spend money on something so ‘useless.’ I ended up putting it back.”

Aaron’s hand tightened around yours. “I’m sorry,” he said simply, his voice steady but laced with emotion. “No one should have taken that from you.”

You took a shaky breath, trying to push back the tears. “It’s just a necklace,” you said, almost to yourself, as if you were trying to convince the little girl inside you.

Aaron turned you gently to face him, his eyes meeting yours. “It’s not just a necklace,” he said. “It’s a step. It’s a way of saying, ‘I can have nice things because I want them, and I deserve them.’ And I’ll be right here, helping you take those steps, no matter how long it takes.”

With his encouragement, you finally let yourself pick up the necklace. It felt weightless in your hands, yet the act of holding it carried so much significance. When Aaron handed it to the cashier, you didn’t protest. And when he fastened it around your neck in the car, his fingers brushing your skin, you felt something shift inside you—a small crack in the wall of guilt and control that had defined so much of your life.

As the two of you drove home, your fingers absentmindedly played with the pendant, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Aaron glanced over at you, his eyes soft and full of love. “What’s on your mind?”

You hesitated before answering, your voice quiet but steady. “I was just thinking… that little girl I used to be? I think she’d be happy. She’d see this and know it’s possible to feel free someday.”

Aaron reached for your hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “She’d be proud of you,” he said. “And I am too.”

For the first time in years, you felt that maybe, just maybe, you were finally stepping into a life that was truly yours.

[obeymefanfiction]

Kiss or Dare: Leviathan

Obey me! Fanfiction (July 2020) see masterlist Featuring: Levi X Neutral Reader Word Count: 1800 Disclaimer: Characters are the rightful property of NNT Solemare Inc. “Shall We Date” Warnings: Kissing fluff/Angst Note: adapted from an old fanfiction of mine. “Hey Levi. What’s wrong?” You and Levi were playing video games during a lazy afternoon. Usually Levi loved times like this, but your question made him jump. Crap! You noticed? He’d been trying to keep you from noticing how anxious he was! “Ah nothing, I’m just… off or something today.” Levi lied rubbing the back of his neck in agitation. He didn’t want to tell you about what happened earlier. About how Mammon promised to return his money if he… er… well… k-kissed you.

When he was talking to the big dummy of a brother of his he thought at the time it wouldn’t be that big of deal. You two were close so you wouldn’t take it the wrong way or anything… right? You’d be cool with one… k-kiss. You knew his heart was totally set on Ruri-Chan and… and even though he loved it when you leaned close enough for your hair to brush against his cheek—selfies were a must now between you—or those times when he wondered why you smelled better than a new game arriving in the mail. Not to mention he’d observed your lips appeared particularly soft and appealing. He was certain if he touched— No. This was a bad idea. What if you did get offended? Or if you did take him seriously? He didn’t know if he could handle that. At first he thought he could just explain—but that never went well in all of the magna he had read! What if you took it the wrong way and he… lost you? That’d be worse than losing Henry 2.0. He wasn’t sure he could handle that. It was bad enough that he had to share you with his brothers so much of the time. You’d become like his side kick the past few weeks. He’d come to just expect you to stick around and… He couldn’t lose you. Levi jolted to attention when your hand reached up and pushed back his bangs allowing your fingers to brush against his forehead. The sudden contact with your gentle warmth left him speechless as his eyes widened and turned to search yours for an explanation. “Nope, you don’t seem to have a fever. Do you need some water or something? Are you feeling dehydrated? Hungry?” Levi blinked at you. Oh. You touched him to check his temperature? Wow. He liked that. He really liked that. In fact his face was suddenly burning hot and he wanted to go take a swim with Henry. He released an unsteady breath before attempting to talk to you. “I’m not sick. Mammon just said something that upset me.” “Oh no! Why didn’t you tell me Levi? I’m sorry. Maybe we should be watching a Ruri Chan movie instead to help you feel better?” Oh you were the best human in the entire world, weren’t you?

Levi cut that thought off mid “beam” and tried to focus on now. “No, it’s fine. He just talked me into something when I should have said no. I hate it when he does that. He’s such a—” “What is he making you do?” You sigh sympathetically. With those big beautiful eyes looking at you and your kind smile and you sitting so close he couldn’t help feeling how much you cared about him. “He said he’d pay me back all of my money he owes me. I just have to do one thing first.” “Oh Mammon.” You groaned. “Levi, you shouldn’t have to do anything to get your money back. It was yours to begin with.” “I know, but what he asked me to do didn’t sound so bad. I thought it’d be fine. Then I thought about it some more and how so many things could go wrong and I’m not sure I can do it now.” Levi gave a defeated sigh to the controller in his lap. “What did he ask you to do? Maybe I can help?” You volunteered. Oh no. He couldn’t tell you. Uh oh! Levi began to panic. This was going to go wrong. He knew it was. He just knew it. “Nothing. I’m-uh-not going to do it. I’ll just figure something else out. So, forget it.” His face felt like it was on fire as he turned his back to you. “Leeeeeeviii! I can’t help if you don’t tell me what it is. If it’s too ridiculous I volunteer to go yell at Mammon for you and get your money back.” “You… you’d do that?” Levi felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe you wouldn’t have to get mad at him? Maybe he could just explain how dumb he thought it was and you’d laugh? Maybe— “He told me to kiss you.” The words just came out. As soon as they did Levi wanted to clap his hands over his mouth and flee the room. You went perfectly still. Well except for your eyes of course. Those went wide and seemed to be getting wider the longer he looked at you. He realized he needed to say something else. He needed to tell you all the reasons this was upsetting him so you wouldn’t think he was—well—as dumb as he felt at the moment. Nothing happened. He couldn’t get any words out. Not with you staring at him like that. Oh no. How could he say anything to you now? Crap crap crap crap crap!! “Levi… um… I can tell you’re uncomfortable with this. Is that because you wouldn’t… want to?” “Wouldn’t want to?” He echoed your words. “I—uh—wouldn’t want to if you didn’t want me to __. That’s why I’m upset. If it made things weird between us. I didn’t want to do it. Even if it did convince Mammon to give me back my money.” “So… you were nervous because you didn’t want to upset me? Awe Levi! You are so awesome.” Your expression softened and wave of relief washed over him. You weren’t mad? You understood why he was so upset over this? Oh he felt so much better now. Especially because—oh wow—you were now hugging him. It was too much but not enough and his heart was pounding and you smelled so good and— “I’m not sure how I got so lucky to have you as my otaku. I’m the luckiest human ever.” Your words made him blush harder and he tried to think of something to say. Compliments were obviously out because he’d mess them up. Maybe he could suggest the two of you could watch that Ruri-Chan movie and turn this afternoon around? He gulped and found the courage to hug you back. Your hair brushed against his cheek summoning a smile, and the words finally started to come. “You’re just really important to me. I feel like you’re the only normie that gets me and if I made you upset over something like this…” Levi shrugged. “Thanks for understanding. I’ll just go tell Mammon to give me my money back and we can forget about this.”

“Oh. So, you didn’t…” You pulled back and your gaze dropped. Wait, why did your gaze just drop away from his? Did you want to? Nah. Not with a yukky Otaku like him. So what was bothering you? “__? I thought you weren’t upset about this?” “No, I-I’m not. You’re right, Mammon shouldn’t have suggested it. I just thought… I thought it was really sweet you cared about how I felt. I didn’t realize you wouldn’t---well want—um—to kiss me.” Wow. Levi didn’t know you could turn that shade of red. “I was thinking you might, I guess, and I was really happy that you might. That’s all.” “Wait… you’re saying you’d want me to?” You shrug still blushing fiercely. “Not necessarily because Mammon told you to. But if you did because you wanted to I… I’d like that. I just never thought you’d want to, so when you sounded all upset that I might get upset over it I thought—maybe that was because you might like to kiss me too?” Too. Too? As in you would want him to kiss you… also. He didn’t think he could possibly blush to death but just now it felt like it might happen. “So, you would…” “Only if you would… but yeah.” “And it wouldn’t be weird?” “Not weird at all.” Huh. It certainly felt weird already. Would kissing you just make it worse? Or worse would not kissing you make you think he lied about wanting to kiss you? Oh man! Why did he ever agree to this? He was never speaking to Mammon again once he got his money back. “Levi you don’t have—” You broke off when his gaze crashed into yours. You were already so close and looked so confused. As confused as he felt. He wasn’t sure how it happened—if you leaned in or he did—but the warmth of your mouth against his was… it was… wow. Levi’s eyes slid closed and he couldn’t resist leaning closer. Allowing his lips to brush over yours in a gentle caress that you echoed. Your mouth tasted so sweet and soft and… wow you smelled even better when he was this close to you. When he felt your tongue brush curiously against his lips his mind seemed to go haywire. He couldn’t resist moving closer. Holding you against him, feeling your warmth, letting his tongue seek out yours and tangle with it in a heated dance. Then you moaned and he nearly lost all sense of reason as he rolled on top of you. Laying you back so he could kiss you more—taste you more. He wanted to kiss you until he knew every sensitive place in your mouth, every curve of your tongue and your lips. The warmth of your hands cupped his face and you whispered his name against his lips. “Levi?” His eyes opened slowly. Taking in your beautiful expression. Your smile and the warm glow in your eyes. “I guess I wasn’t the only one who wanted that.” “No, you weren’t.” “Are you going to tell Mammon?” You raised an eyebrow teasingly and he felt the burning heat run up the back of his neck at the thought. At last he shook his head. “No way. I’m not dealing with him right now. Not when I could be here with you.” “Good answer.” You leaned up and captured his mouth again with yours. Soon he was too encompassed by the warmth of your kiss to think of anything else.

[hahnshands]

~ trouble ~

agathario college roommate AU stories

context: Agatha Harkness is an outgoing, people person who fits into every room steps into and every group she talks to, on the other hand her roommate Rio Vidal, could not think of anything worse than being that kind of person, she would much rather focus on her artwork as she is studying art but having Agatha as a roommate is proving to me a little more challenging than she first thought when Rio notices herself drawing a very familiar face…

pairings: agatha x rio extrovert!agatha x introvert!rio popular!agatha x artist!rio

Authors note: i’ll be updating this every now and then :)

The second Agatha Harkness walked into their shared dorm room on move-in day, Rio Vidal knew she was in trouble. Trouble because Agatha exuded the kind of cool confidence that made people want to orbit her. Trouble because Rio, the self-proclaimed queen of her own quiet solitude, the tortured artist, knew she needs to pass this year to graduate and it didn’t look like she was going to have a distraction free dorm room.

It didn’t help that Agatha’s side of the room was already immaculate—her bed made with precise folds, her books alphabetized, and a lavender-scented diffuser softly puffing away on her desk. Meanwhile, Rio had a half-unpacked suitcase on her bed and an open box of paints that she’d immediately forgotten about the second she found her sketchbook.

Agatha was eyeing the chaos on Rio’s side of the room with a bemused smile, “You’re one of those people”

“And you’re one of those,” Rio had shot back, waving a paint-streaked hand at the perfectly arranged lavender diffuser.

Agatha just laughed, brushing her sleek dark hair over her shoulder. “Stick with me, Vidal. You might learn something.”

A month into the semester, Rio was beginning to suspect Agatha had some kind of secret powers. There was no other explanation for how she managed to ace every class, charm every professor, and still find time to breeze into their room at night with perfectly styled hair and some wild story about how she’d ‘influenced’ the coffee shop barista into giving her a free latte.

“All I did was ask politely,” Agatha said one evening, lounging on her bed and flipping through a novel that Rio was certain she wasn’t actually reading.

“Sure,” Rio replied, smirking as she bent over her sketchbook. “You ‘politely’ hypnotized them into thinking you deserved it.”

Agatha quirked an eyebrow. “You make it sound like I’m some kind of witch.”

“Hey, if the pointy hat fits…”

Agatha’s laugh was low and throaty, the kind that sent a weird little shiver up Rio’s spine. She ignored it, focusing instead on the sketch taking shape on the page.

“Are you ever going to show me what you’re drawing?” Agatha asked after a pause, her tone light but curious.

“Nope,” Rio replied without looking up.

“Oh, come on,” Agatha said, leaning over the edge of her bed. “I’ll bet it’s brilliant. Is it me? You’ve been staring at me an awful lot lately.”

Rio’s pencil froze mid-stroke. Her brain scrambled for a retort that wouldn’t give her away. “You’re flattering yourself, Harkness.”

Agatha slid off her bed, crossing the room with that effortless confidence she always carried. Before Rio could protest, Agatha plopped down beside her on the floor, close enough that Rio could smell the faint lavender clinging to her sweater.

“Let me see,” Agatha said, her voice soft but insistent.

“No,” Rio replied, clutching the sketchbook to her chest like a lifeline.

Agatha tilted her head, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Fine. But I’ll figure it out eventually. I always figure things out, my love.”

Later that night, long after Agatha had fallen asleep, Rio sat cross-legged on her bed, staring at the sketch. It wasn’t finished, but the likeness was unmistakable—Agatha, with her sharp features and sly smile, caught mid-laugh.

Rio sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Trouble,” she muttered to herself.

PART 2

If Rio thought living with Agatha was going to get easier, she was delusional.

Further into the semester, Agatha’s relentless teasing had become as regular as Rio’s late-night sketching sessions. Every time Rio thought she’d found a way to ignore her, Agatha would up the ante—stealing glances at her sketchbook, throwing dramatic compliments her way, or offering entirely unsolicited critiques of her work.

“You know,” Agatha said one afternoon, sprawled on Rio’s bed like it was her own, “I’m starting to think all this brooding over your art is just an excuse to stare at me.”

Rio looked up from her canvas, her charcoal smudged fingers poised mid-stroke. “I’m sorry, what?”

Agatha propped her head on her hand, her dark hair cascading over her shoulder like she’d walked out of some impossibly chic fashion shoot. “You’re always hunched over that thing when I’m in the room. I’m beginning to think I’m your muse.”

Rio rolled her eyes, but her heart betrayed her by racing just a little too fast. “Don’t flatter yourself, Harkness.”

“Why not? You seem to do enough of that for me,” Agatha replied, her grin sharp and smug.

Rio muttered something under her breath and turned back to her drawing. The charcoal on the page was starting to smudge—Agatha’s sharp jawline softening at the edges—but she couldn’t bring herself to care. The truth was, Agatha had become a fixation for her. Not that she would ever admit it. Agatha’s confidence was already insufferable enough; the last thing she needed was for her to know she was the source of half Rio’s sketchbook.

“Come on, let me see,” Agatha said, swinging her legs off the bed and landing lightly on her feet.

“No,” Rio said automatically, shifting her body to block the canvas.

Agatha moved closer, her lavender perfume wrapping around Rio like a net. “Why not? Afraid I’ll fall in love with your depiction of me?”

“I’m afraid your ego will implode and take out half the campus.” Rio shot back

Agatha laughed, her voice low and throaty, and leaned over Rio’s shoulder. Her proximity was maddening—close enough that Rio could feel the warmth radiating from her skin. “You’re blushing, my love.”

“Am not,” Rio lied, hunching lower over her drawing.

Agatha reached out and gently tugged on the end of Rio’s ponytail. “You’re adorable when you’re flustered. You know that?”

Rio dropped her charcoal with a frustrated sigh. “Do you ever stop talking?”

“Not when I’m having this much fun,” Agatha replied, grinning. She perched on the edge of Rio’s chair, her knee brushing against Rio’s thigh.

Rio glared at her, though it lacked any real heat. “You’re infuriating.”

“And you’re still blushing,” Agatha teased, tilting her head as if studying Rio’s expression. “What’s the real reason you won’t let me see your art?”

For once, Agatha’s voice wasn’t mocking. The curiosity in her tone was genuine, and it caught Rio off guard.

“I just…” Rio faltered, her gaze dropping to the half-finished sketch. “It’s not ready.”

Agatha’s expression softened, though the playful glint in her eyes remained. “You’re such a perfectionist, Vidal. I’ll bet it’s stunning already.”

Rio hesitated, her fingers twitching toward the canvas. There was a part of her—a small, reckless part—that wanted to let Agatha see. That wanted to watch her reaction, to hear what she’d say about the way Rio had captured her in charcoal. But that same part also knew how vulnerable it would make her feel. And Agatha had a way of making vulnerability feel like a game she was destined to lose.

Agatha seemed to sense her hesitation, because she stood and stepped back, hands raised in mock surrender. “Fine. I’ll wait. But don’t think I won’t find a way to sneak a look eventually.”

Rio huffed a laugh despite herself. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” Agatha replied, her voice light but her gaze lingering just a second too long before she turned and flounced back to her bed.

That night, long after Agatha had fallen asleep, Rio sat cross-legged in the center of the room, her sketchbook balanced on her knees. She flipped through the pages, stopping at each drawing of Agatha.

There were so many. Too many. Agatha reading, laughing, gesturing with her hands as she recounted one of her outrageous stories. Each sketch was a fragment of Rio’s growing fascination—a fascination she wasn’t sure she’d ever fully understand. Finally, she stopped on the latest one. Agatha’s face, her smile just shy of wicked, her eyes glinting with something Rio could only describe as dangerous.

Rio picked up her pencil and leaned closer to the page, her hand moving almost of its own accord. She hated to admit it, but Agatha had been right about one thing: she was her muse.

PART 3

Rio had just finished a sketch and was debating whether to call it a night when the door to their dorm swung open. Agatha stumbled in, cheeks flushed, her hair slightly messed as she leaned heavily against the doorframe, a bottle of something amber-coloured dangling precariously from one hand.

“Riooo, my love,” she slurred, her voice thick with alcohol and mischief.

“No,” Rio said, not even looking up from her sketchbook.

Agatha blinked, taken aback by the interruption. She wobbled a little before stepping into the room and shutting the door behind her with her foot. “Rude. I haven’t even told you what we’re doing yet.”

“I don’t need to know,” Rio replied. “The answer’s no.”

Agatha narrowed her eyes, as if deeply offended. “You’re no fun.”

"Well, some of us want to graduate.” Rio muttered, flipping the page of her sketchbook while refusing to look at her.

Agatha groaned dramatically and flopped onto Rio’s bed, half spilling onto her lap. Her sweater had slipped off one shoulder, revealing smooth, freckled skin, and her dark eyes gleamed with something both reckless and knowing. “Come on, Vidal. It’s Friday. There’s a party downstairs. I’ve got alcohol. You need alcohol.”

“I need you to stop throwing yourself onto my bed,” Rio said, attempting to nudge her off. “And go to your bed.”

Agatha ignored her, propping her chin in her hand and looking up at her with a lazy grin. “What’s wrong? Scared you might have fun for once?”

Rio sighed, putting her charcoal down. “I’m scared you’ll get us kicked out of this dorm because you decide to drunkenly yell at the RA again.”

“That happened one time,” Agatha said, rolling her eyes. She tilted her head, letting her hair fall artfully over one shoulder. “Don’t you ever get tired of sitting here with your little pencils, sketching away while the rest of the world is having a good time?”

“Nope.”

“Well, I am tired of watching you do it; I can see you slowly turning into a hermit,” Agatha declared, sitting up and grabbing Rio’s hand. “Up. You’re coming with me.”

Rio started to protest, but Agatha pulled her to her feet with surprising strength for someone so tipsy.

“Agatha—”

“Nope. No excuses,” Agatha said, cutting her off. Her grin widened as she tugged Rio toward the door. “Atta girl, You’re not hiding in this room all night, my love. I won’t allow it.”

The party was in full swing by the time they arrived, the dorm basement vibrating with music and packed with bodies. Strings of cheap fairy lights flickered over the crowd, and the smell of beer and cheap perfume hung heavy in the air.

Agatha weaved through the crowd like she owned the place, still clutching Rio’s hand. She stole two red cups from a nearby table, handing one into Rio’s hand. “Drink. Loosen up.”

Rio grimaced at the cup. “I don’t even know what’s in this.”

“Exactly!” Agatha said, already halfway through her own drink.

Rio took a tentative sip and immediately winced. It was sugary and strong—the kind of mix that promised a headache in the morning.

“God, that’s terrible.” she muttered.

“Terrible but effective,” Agatha said, stepping closer. Her voice dropped to a teasing murmur. “Unless you’re afraid you can’t handle it.”

Rio narrowed her eyes. “I can handle it just fine.”

“Prove it,” Agatha said, raising her cup in a mock toast.

Rio huffed but downed the drink, the alcohol buzzing warmly in her chest as Agatha watched with an infuriatingly smug grin.

A few drinks later, Rio found herself on the edge of the dance floor, swaying awkwardly as Agatha pulled her closer.

“Relax, Vidal,” Agatha said, her hands on Rio’s shoulders, her voice thick with amusement and drink. “It’s just dancing.”

“I don’t dance,” Rio muttered.

Agatha laughed, her breath warm against Rio’s ear. “You’re doing it right now, darling.”

Rio rolled her eyes, but her heart was racing. The alcohol made everything feel fuzzier—lighter—but Agatha’s proximity made her feel like she was on fire.

“See?” Agatha said, her hands sliding down to Rio’s waist as they moved to the music. “You’re not bad at this.”

“That’s just you,” Rio managed, her voice embarrassingly breathless.

Agatha grinned, leaning in closer. Her dark eyes sparkled under the dim lights, and the scent of her lavender perfume mixed with the alcohol on her breath. “You’re adorable when you’re flustered.”

“I’m not flustered,” Rio said, her cheeks blazing.

“Liar,” Agatha whispered, her lips barely brushing Rio’s ear.

Rio swallowed hard, her mind spinning. Agatha’s teasing was relentless—the way her hands lingered on her waist, the way her voice dipped into something almost intimate.

“Do you always stare this much?” Agatha asked, her grin turning sly. “Or is it just me?”

“I’m not—”

“Well… You are.” Agatha interrupted, her voice soft but insistent.

Rio’s hands fidgeted at her sides. The alcohol was making her bolder, but she still felt out of her depth—her first time this close to another woman, to someone like Agatha, who radiated confidence even when drunk.

“I…” Rio started, but her voice trailed off.

Agatha tilted her head, studying her with a faint smirk. “What, Vidal? Cat got your tongue?”

Rio couldn’t take it anymore. Without thinking, she leaned in and kissed her.

It was clumsy and unsure, a burst of confidence fuelled by frustration and alcohol. Agatha froze for a fraction of a second, and Rio immediately panicked, starting to pull back.

But then Agatha’s hands tightened on her waist, pulling her closer as she kissed her back. This time it was deliberate, confident, with that same teasing edge Agatha brought to everything.

When they broke apart, Rio’s face was on fire. "I—uh—I didn’t mean—”

Agatha laughed softly, her forehead resting against Rio’s. “Relax, Vidal. It’s not the end of the world.”

Rio groaned, covering her face with her hands. “I can’t believe I just did that.”

“Oh, believe it,” Agatha said, smirking as she tugged Rio’s hands away from her face. Her expression softened—just slightly—and her voice dropped. “For the record, not bad.”

Rio blinked, her heart still racing. “Really?”

Agatha chuckled, stepping back and taking Rio’s hand again. “Come on, let’s get out of here before you combust.”

They left the party together, the cool night air hitting them like a splash of water. As they stumbled back to their dorm, Agatha glanced over at Rio with a smile that was almost genuine. “Not bad at all,” she murmured.

By the time they reached their dorm, the buzz was wearing off, replaced by a different kind of dizziness. Agatha let go of Rio’s hand to fumble for her key, her smirk still firmly in place.

“Stop hovering,” Agatha teased, shooting Rio a sideways glance as she finally unlocked the door.

“I’m not hovering,” Rio muttered, shoving her hands into her jacket pockets and refusing to meet Agatha’s gaze.

“Sure, darling,” Agatha said, stepping inside and flicking on the light. She turned, leaning against the doorframe, her eyes raking over Rio with a dangerous kind of amusement. “You’re very convincing.”

Rio froze in the doorway, every nerve in her body on high alert. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” Agatha asked innocently, tilting her head.

“Like you’re—” Rio faltered, the words catching in her throat.

“Like I’m about to kiss you again?” Agatha finished for her, her voice low and teasing. She took a slow step forward, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Or are you planning to surprise me again?”

Rio’s cheeks burnt, and she stammered, "I wasn't—"

Agatha’s laugh was soft but rich, and this time it lacked some of its usual edge. “Relax, Vidal. You’re so wound up. It’s kind of adorable.”

Rio crossed her arms, trying desperately to regain her composure. “You- You can’t just say stuff like that and act like it doesn’t mean anything.”

Agatha’s smirk faltered—just barely, but Rio caught it. For a moment, the tension between them hung heavy in the air, charged and uncertain. Then Agatha sighed, stepping back and flopping onto her bed.

“Maybe it doesn’t,” she said, her tone quieter but still playful. She glanced at Rio, her expression unreadable. “Or maybe it does. What do you think?”

Rio hesitated, her gaze dropping to the floor. The weight of the night—the drinks, the dancing, the kiss—pressed down on her. She didn’t know what to think, let alone what to say.

Agatha seemed to sense her turmoil because she rolled onto her side, propping her head on her hand. Her smirk returned, softer this time. “Don’t overthink it, Vidal. You’re cute when you’re awkward, but you’ll give yourself a headache.”

Rio let out a shaky laugh, her shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“And yet, you kissed me,” Agatha countered, her grin widening.

Rio groaned, covering her face with her hands as she mumbled, “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

“Not a chance,” Agatha said, her voice warm with laughter.

For a moment, silence settled over them, broken only by the hum of the desk lamp and the faint sounds of music still drifting up from the party downstairs. Rio finally dropped her hands, glancing at Agatha, who was watching her with that same maddeningly unreadable expression.

“Goodnight, Harkness,” Rio said, retreating to her bed and pulling the blanket over herself in one swift motion.

Agatha chuckled, leaning back against her pillows. “Goodnight, Vidal.”

As Rio closed her eyes, she could still feel the ghost of Agatha’s lips on hers, the scent of lavender lingering in the air. She told herself she’d deal with it tomorrow and figure out what it all meant, or maybe pretend it hadn’t happened at all, but deep down, she knew Agatha wouldn’t let her forget.

[insomniac4000]

George Clarke- 147

cute glasses, dork. George Clarke

George adjusted his go pro which was strapped to his chest as the Sidemen buzzed around him, each sorting out their gear for their latest video: a race across the UK. He’d been invited to join as a guest, he had been an increasing presence on the channel and he absolutely loved it. To his surprise—and slight horror—he’d been paired with Harry and Millie Harper, a rising YouTuber known for her travel vlogs and infectious laugh. Max who was his podcast co host had hinted multiple times George had a small things for her, something George had denied but always had blushed profusely. Chris had also stirred the pot asking both of them to a shoot and trying to convince his housemate to make a move.

Millie was smart, funny, and drop-dead gorgeous. George had been nursing a not-so-secret crush on her ever since they’d crossed paths at a creator event months ago. Now, they’d be spending the next two days in close quarters, and he was both thrilled and terrified.

“Alright, teams!” JJ’s voice boomed over the chaos. “We’ve got four groups. Each team has to make it from Land’s End to John o’ Groats, but no planes. You’ve got £500 and your charm to get there. First one to the finish wins!”

George glanced at Harry, who was grinning ear to ear. “Ready to crush this?” Harry asked, slapping George on the back.

“Sure,” George replied, trying to sound confident.

Millie approached, holding a map and grinning. “Guess we’ll see how far £500 gets us, eh?” she said, her hazel eyes sparkling.

“Hopefully far enough,” George said, trying not to trip over his words.

Leg One: The Plan

The trio piled into their starting car, an old, slightly battered fiesta rented for £50. Harry, a self confessed passenger princess immediately claimed the back seat, leaving George in the driving seat and Millie navigating in the passenger seat.

“Right,” Millie said, pulling out the map. “We need to figure out how to maximize this cash. Cheap petrol, cheap food, maybe hitch a ride if we can.”

George nodded, trying to focus on logistics and not the fact that her hair smelled like strawberries.

“You’re good at this planning stuff,” George said.

Millie smirked. “I have to be. My subscribers love it when I turn chaos into a masterpiece.”

Harry groaned from the back. “Boring! Let’s just drive until we run out of money and wing it!”

Millie laughed, rolling her eyes. “Classic Harry strategy. What do you think, George?”

“I think we should listen to you,” George said, earning a teasing grin from Millie.

Hours into their journey, the trio stopped at a roadside diner to refuel and grab a bite. As they sat at a booth, Millie pulled out her phone to snap a quick photo of their table.

“Smile, team!” she said, aiming the camera.

George threw up a peace sign while Harry stuffed a fry into his mouth mid-shot. Millie laughed, reviewing the picture.

“You’re such a goof,” she said to George, nudging him playfully.

“You’re one to talk,” George shot back, though his cheeks reddened.

“You’re surprisingly good at driving,” Millie said, glancing at George as he navigated through winding country roads.

“Thanks,” George said. “I try not to crash into trees. High bar, I know.”

Millie laughed, and George felt a swell of pride.

The next morning, after a brief overnight stop at a budget motel, it was Millie’s turn to drive. She tied her hair up in a messy bun and pulled out a pair of glasses from her bag, settling them on her nose before adjusting the rearview mirror.

George glanced over from the passenger seat and grinned. “Cute glasses, dork.”

Millie raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a smile. “Oh, so I’m a dork now?”

“You said it, not me,” George teased, though his heart raced as Millie giggled.

Harry, half-asleep in the back, muttered, “Can you two stop flirting for five seconds? Some of us are trying to nap.”

“We’re not flirting,” Millie and George said in unison, their voices a touch too defensive.

“Sure, sure,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “Just get us to John o’ Groats without killing each other or me.”

As their funds dwindled, the team had to get creative. After running out of petrol near a small village in Scotland, they flagged down a local farmer who agreed to give them a lift in his truck.

Millie climbed into the passenger seat, leaving George and Harry to squeeze into the cramped truck bed.

“This is cozy,” George said, awkwardly pressed against Harry.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Harry quipped.

Millie turned in her seat, laughing as she snapped a quick photo of the two squished boys. “This is definitely making the highlight reel,” she said.

“You’re evil,” George called out, though he couldn’t help smiling.

After hours of creative travel, bartering, and begging for lifts, the trio finally arrived at John o’ Groats, exhausted but exhilarated. They stumbled out of their final ride—a rickety bus—and sprinted toward the finish line, where JJ, Josh and Vik

“Second place!” JJ announced as they crossed the line.

Harry threw his arms in the air. “I’ll take it!”

Millie grinned, high-fiving George. “Not bad, Clarkey. You’re not half bad at this teamwork thing.”

George flushed but grinned back. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

As they posed for the group photo to commemorate the challenge, George couldn’t help but feel that, despite the exhaustion, this was one of the best weekends of his life.

After the cameras stopped rolling and everyone began to relax, George found himself sitting on a bench with Millie as the sun set over the rugged Scottish coastline.

“So,” Millie said, nudging him with her elbow, “cute glasses, huh?”

George chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “What can I say? They suit you.”

Millie smiled, her cheeks tinged with pink. “Well, thanks, I guess. You’re not so bad yourself, Clarkeey.”

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world around them faded. George’s heart pounded, but before he could say anything, Harry’s voice shattered the moment.

“Oi, lovebirds! We’re heading to the pub. You coming or what?”

Millie stood, offering George a hand. “Come on, dork. Let’s celebrate.”

George took her hand, grinning as they walked back to the group, wondering if maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something more.

[starry-bi-sky]

Danyal Al Ghul's missed potential - this kid is not gonna behave like his canon self if he's with the league of assassins until his late formative years, and my reasoning why

(feel free to take this all with a grain of salt this is just my thoughts on it, this is all mostly amusing to me and isn't trying to be negative towards anyone else)

similar to how i was talking about how danny growing up in crime alley would affect him, demon twin aus with danyal al ghul make me laugh a lot (affectionate) because... whose teaching danny to unlearn all the ecofascism he picked up from the league of assassins? whose teaching him to be kind? to be gentle? Not the LoA thats for certain.

(you could plausibly say Jazz but she's only 2 years older than Danny and do you really expect a fellow child to properly explain why X is wrong to another child and have it be 100% effective? i don't doubt it'd help to an extent, but not in the same way an adult explaining it would)

plus a ton of other things, like whose teaching him to value human life? not the LoA. Whose teaching him how to adjust to living with American society after he ends up with the Fentons when he's 8-9-10? Who teaches him that killing is wrong, whose enforcing that?

(not the Fentons if you're going the neglectful parent route, and Jazz can try but i really don't think Danny is going to listen to her, a stranger who isn't even part of his grandfather's league)

How do you teach a child to value human life when the greatest development window for that opportunity has closed and he's already formed his own opinions?

You're not gonna get a Danny whose exactly like his canon attitude if he's staying with the league during his formative years (0-8 years old). you're not. You could get someone LIKE it, potentially, or someone who has traces of it or is similar -- like danny's wit and jokes and sarcasm, and on some level his kindness. but you're not gonna have a carbon copy. Development doesn't work that way. "nature" can only do so much in the face of nurture.

If anything, it doesn't even have to be a major change -- in the league he cans till be kind, but it's probably going to manifest in a different way than what is considered normal. Tough love, for one. But there's gonna be something that affects him negatively. Why make him 'always good/kind' when you can make him a brat who develops into a kinder (if spikier than in canon) person?

TLDR: Danyal Al Ghul would not be like how he is in canon if he's with the league until his late formative years -- not without any lasting pr permanent impacts from the league at least. Missed potential to make him an absolute nightmare like damian was -- especially in his early years when he first arrived to the Fenton house.

(this doesn't apply to danyal al ghul aus where he's either given to the fentons as a baby/is reincarnated/etc. this is mostly aimed for danyal al ghul aus where he fakes his death at like, 7-10 and somehow ends up, personality-wise like his completely canon self by 14 without any differences.)

(and even then if he's five or four, or even three, he would still be traumatized and influenced by the league. he'll just have more time to adjust. the sooner he leaves the league the more likely he is to be like his canon self, but not like an exact copy)

(more under the cut)

Anyways what I'm saying is that there is prime missed Danyal al Ghul potential to make him an absolute NIGHTMARE to the Fentons however way he ends up with them, just like Damian was with the Waynes! Cuz why does Damian get all the fun? Danny got the same training and endoctrine as him! He is also an ex-assassin! Why is Danny the only one who is 'well adjusted and non-violent' hm? Hmm?

Why can't he also be mean, and stabby, and a total stuck-up in some way or another? Have fun with his characterization, its prime opportunity to play play-doh and clay with him! If he starts out as X how does he get the personality traits of Y, and thus become XY?

Like take this with a grain of salt if you will, but make him arrogant. Make him an asshole! Make him a bad person at first! Because he will be! He's the blood son of the batman and you mean to tell me that damian is the only one arrogant about it at first? Make him stabby and mean even at 14 when he's begun to chill out! Have fun with it! If he's with the Fentons at any point past the age of four or five then he's gonna be a nightmare to handle because he still remembers the league and his time there.

(and while it gives him more time to chill the hell out, his time at the league is still gonna leave an impact on him.)

also what im saying as well is have him and sam potentially get along like a house on FIRE. Again, Danny grew up under the views of an ecofascist cult and nobody to challenge those views to him until he got to amity park at whatever age in late formative years he was at. He could be about as intense or even MORE intense about environmental awareness/rights than Sam is!

(also him being supremely unimpressed with Sam's wealth. he gave up a palace in the mountains for this town. because that's funny to me - like let his past have more influence on him! it'll be fun!)

you could have a danny who doesn't kill but doesn't fully understand the value of human life because jazz is like two years older than him and isn't that good at explaining why people's lives are important. he won't kill but he's not morally opposed to it. there's very little chance he actually gets bullied at school because he nearly killed Dash the first time he tried anything.

Danny could have scars, physical ones, because its implied in multiple canon that training starts at toddling (my best bet is 3 at minimum and ~maybe~ 2 but only on the later side of 2. Good fucking luck getting any infant under 2 to do anything you ask, ESPECIALLY assassin training. They're gonna stick the weapon in their mouth sooner than they're gonna do katas. This is coming from a daycare teacher.)

there's more examples of how danny being at the league during his formative years would affect him, but those are just some of them. he could have a sword! An appreciation for weaponry and nature. Maybe he still speaks all shakespearan and formal, does he still make bodily threats to people? If Damian is still threatening people at 14 why can't danny?

[icewindandboringhorror]

sneepy cozy time....

[lloydfrontera]

Im so curious

What about BK Moon gives you so much beef with him like the misogyny I understand but you talk about him like there's more

it's all the untapped potential. that's all it is. bk moon can be such a good writer at times and there's some genuinely interesting and fascinating ideas in his work, but man do they get buried under some of the most bizarre and tedious plots he can come up with.

he comes up with some amazing dynamics, concepts and characters and then does shit with them. he writes incredibly passionate and heart-wrenching relationships between his male protagonists and then shoves them into the most boring and/or underdeveloped straight romances possible. he describes utterly horrifying scenarios (affectionate) with such vivid detail you can almost see them play out perfectly in your head and then goes on and on about very boring topics with too much detail that you can skip without losing anything for it.

his novels could be so good... if only they were good. there's something there but you have to grab a shovel and dig them up by yourself because he's not gonna help you do it.

he's a good writer! but he could so much better. and that's what makes it so infuriating! because i see the potential, i see the seeds being planted, i see what could've been... and i can't do anything about it but make silly little posts about it! i wanna be his editor and beta-reader soooo bad.

but to be clear i don't have,, real beef with the man. like. i don't know him. i just read what he writes and sometimes stalk his fb but that's it. my feelings about him are completely based on what his writing and his novels tell me and nothing more. and i do like his writing! i genuinely do enjoy his style and the way he writes! some times more than others but nonetheless!

and also sometimes i just like being dramatic. sometimes i'm mildly annoyed by one of his writing decision and i say i'll stab a man. doesn't mean i actually hate his guts or anything aksjhdka

i will even admit that maybe if his novels were better i wouldn't be so into them as i am. take orv for example. i love it, i definitely binge-read it, cried my heart out and it remains one of my favorite webnovels of all time. but i didn't dedicate two years of my life to talk about it, y'know? it's so good i don't really have anything to add to the conversation. unlike with tged and cpsm where i have entirely too much to say about them.

i guess i just... mourn the wasted potential of his writing. and like with a lot of other authors i can't help but be bitter about the hetero/amatonormativity that seeps into it. if he were just a little bit more open to write his protagonists as anything else than straight or at least stopped adding romance for romance sake, his novels would stand out from many others even with his rather run-of-the-mill plots.

also i'm salty that he keeps catering to whiny dudebros with such fragile egos they can't handle an emotional scene without calling it cringe. when he could be catering to me instead <3 i, unlike them, do appreciate how he writes incredibly deep and passionate friendships between men willing to risk the whole world for one another <33

tldr: he gives me brain worms. and i'm mad about it. he needs a better editor and it should be me.

[dazais-guardian-angel]

Y'all, I think I've figured it out. Operating on the assumption that the finale is indeed an alternate timeline from the manga, then someone could have written on a page of the Book to rewrite reality to lead to the events of the finale sometime during season 5's events. In other words, this would explain the INCONSISTENCIES with things that were established or at least heavily implied/assumed prior and in the manga: Chuuya being a real vampire and not in control, nothing being planned, Dazai giving sincere speeches, Dazai really being shot and saying his "last words", Fyodor's hand not being injured, soukoku not killing Fyodor while in Meursault because they literally couldn't and Dazai needing Sigma to discover Fyodor's secrets because of that, Fukuchi's goal not being one that relied on Fukuzawa being alive since he clearly intended to kill him, etc etc too many more to count

Events and explanations in the finale feeling so contradictory and out of place, and characters feeling so ooc and not acknowledging any discrepancies, makes perfect sense if you consider that, up until a certain point, this was our canon timeline — until someone rewrote the ending of the arc with the Book, starting with Fyodor injuring his hand...! We only have one example of the Book being used to majorly rewrite reality in the manga, and when that happened, the main players — the ADA members — were aware that reality was changed, even though they did have memories of the new rewritten reality. BUT, Nikolai was unaware of this during that scene, and so also were all law enforcement because of the clause written on the page accounting for that, so what if the same thing could happen in this instance, to prevent all our characters in the finale from being aware that things had changed? We literally saw someone writing Nikolai's dialogue for him; imagine someone doing that during Dazai's final speech in the episode, and during all the rest of it! I don't know who this would be, but possibly a mysterious third party who got a hold of a different page from the Book somewhere and wrote things to turn out this way, because they wanted the ADA to win against Fukuchi and Fyodor? Maybe even because... this is the only way they can win?

Remember Atsushi asserting this plan, and how silly and too simple it sounded? What if someone else ended up doing just that, writing their own simple outcome for the ADA to win (as a narrative of course, which is probably why it had to start with the major catalyst of, again, Fyodor injuring his hand)? Additionally, if that's what happened, maybe the ending of the finale is a sort of side effect to the Book being used improperly in this way, leading to a destabilization of the timeline or a mishmash of other timelines into the anime one, leading to the alternate Fukuchi and Akutagawa we see there?

[daincrediblegg]

I peaced out of TWD in season 6, and I'm having no trouble watching TOWL. I 100% recommend it! It's soooooo good.

oh thank god that's just about when I tapped out too ok good yeah I think I'm down for that then because jesus

[grmpgm]

ok executive dysfunction is kind of ruining my life actually

[seilon]

pro: ran into a coworker at a bar last night who I don’t really talk to usually (he works upstairs, I work downstairs) and we talked and im pretty sure we were highkey flirting and he bought me a drink and the bar merch shirt i was interested in and thanks to the power of alcohol i guess i asked for his number and he gladly gave it to me and. yeah

con: i have the second worst hangover i have ever had and have been fighting for my fucking life just to eat saltines