#but that seems a bit much even for me lol

[areislol]

hsr!men with a reader who 'stresses' them out to see if they actually like reader that much or not >< HSUDHNS like testing them! kind of. during a post-confession stage where they both kind of know but haven't put any labels on it yet........

AHCK IM SORRY IF THIS IS ODDLY SPECIFIC LOL

pairings. jing yuan, dan heng, blade, welt, sampo, gepard, luocha, caelus, dr ratio, aventurine, boothill, gallagher, moze, jiaoqiu, sunday x gn! reader

warnings. just fluff

a/n. i love this idea sm omg!! this is so cute and adorable, thank you so much for popping in!

wc. 10.6k

synopsis. testing the hsr men to see if they really like you or not...

recommend listening to: blue - yung kai

caelus

✧ caelus is feeling a mix of patience and confusion. mostly confusion.

✧ you’d stress them out by acting overly distant or cryptic with your words. of course, this would be a bit too mean but.... you needed to know whether or not he truly liked you or not!!!

✧  now caelus always has this quiet confidence about him, a grounded presence that somehow keeps you both intrigued and comforted. you’ve been walking the line between friendship and something more for weeks now—soft smiles, lingering touches, and late-night conversations that stretch into the early morning. but neither of you has made the leap to define it, and the uncertainty starts to gnaw at you.

✧ so, you decide to test him. not out of malice, but out of curiosity—does he care as much as you think he does? or are you misreading everything?

✧ it starts small. you "accidentally" forget your jacket during a particularly chilly day on the xianzhou luofu. "it's fine," you say, feigning nonchalance as you rub your arms. "i’ll survive."

✧ caelus, who notices everything, doesn’t hesitate. without a word, he shrugs off his coat and drapes it over your shoulders. it’s warm and smells faintly like him—clean and earthy.

✧ "you’ll catch a cold," he says simply, his expression unreadable. but the way his fingers linger at your shoulder for a moment longer than necessary sends a shiver down your spine.

✧ okay, you think. that’s a point for him.

✧ but you don’t stop there. later, as the two of you work together to sort some scattered archives, you sigh dramatically. "i’m so bad at this," you say, even though you’ve already figured out the system. "caelus, can you help me? i think i’m doing it all wrong."

✧ he glances at you, eyebrows raised slightly. he knows you’re capable—you’ve proven it plenty of times.

✧ "really?" he asks, his tone soft but teasing. "you seem like you’ve got it handled."

✧ but he still moves to your side, explaining the process again with patience and care. you can’t help but notice how close he stands, the way his arm brushes against yours.

✧ another point, you mentally tally, biting back a smile.

✧ the final "test" happens that evening. the two of you are sitting on a bench overlooking the bustling streets below. you lean your head back, sighing loudly.

✧ "caelus," you start, your tone heavy with faux melancholy, "do you ever think... maybe we’re wasting our time? like, maybe this—whatever this is—isn’t worth it?"

✧ his head snaps toward you so fast you almost laugh. his usual calm demeanor falters for a moment, and there’s a flicker of something raw in his amber eyes.

✧ "what are you trying to say?" he asks, his voice lower than usual.

✧ suddenly, the air feels heavier. you weren’t expecting such a serious reaction, and it makes your chest tighten.

✧ "i mean..." you hesitate, suddenly feeling a little guilty for pushing him. "i don’t know. it just feels like maybe we’re stuck in this limbo, you know?"

✧ he stares at you for a moment, his gaze searching. then, he exhales softly, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "if you think this isn’t worth it," he says, his voice steady but quiet, "then tell me. but don’t assume i feel the same."

✧ your heart stutters at his words.

✧ "you don’t?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. he turns to look at you again, his expression soft but serious.

✧ "no," he says firmly. "you mean a lot to me. more than you realize. i’m just... waiting for you to figure out how much you mean to me too."

✧ and just like that, the test is over. you realize you didn’t need to test him at all—he’s always been steady, always been sure. it was you who needed the reassurance, and he gave it to you without hesitation.

✧ as the silence stretches between you, you feel the weight of his coat still draped over your shoulders. you finally let yourself smile, leaning closer to him.

✧ "okay," you murmur. "i get it now."

✧ he doesn’t say anything, but the small, satisfied smile that tugs at his lips says enough.

gepard

✧ poor gepard takes your “test” far too seriously.

✧ (his face falls immediately, and he starts overthinking everything he’s ever done. he’d even try to change his habits, stumbling through awkward attempts to “loosen up.” “i—i can be fun! watch this!” (proceeds to try something clumsy.))

✧ testing gepard’s feelings feels almost unfair. he’s so earnest, so genuine, that you almost feel bad for trying to push his limits. but a little part of you—it’s that gnawing insecurity, that need for reassurance—wants to see how much he’s willing to handle for you.

✧ it starts during a routine patrol around belobog. you walk beside him, pretending to be engrossed in your surroundings, but you’re really watching him out of the corner of your eye. his posture is as perfect as always, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, eyes scanning for any sign of trouble.

✧ "gepard," you say suddenly, interrupting the calm. he turns to you immediately, his expression softening. "yes?"

✧ you fake a dramatic sigh. "do you ever think you work too hard? like... maybe you’re so busy being a model captain that you don’t have time for other things?"

✧ his brows furrow slightly, clearly not expecting this question. "what do you mean?"

✧ "i mean, what if someone in your life needed more of your attention? would you even notice?"

✧ he stops walking, turning to face you fully. there’s a flash of concern in his blue eyes, and you almost feel guilty for how well this is working.

✧ "if someone needed me," he says, his voice steady but laced with worry, "i’d do everything in my power to be there for them. are you... trying to tell me something?"

✧ you wave your hand dismissively, laughing lightly. "oh, no, just a hypothetical. don’t worry about it." he doesn’t look convinced, but he nods and resumes walking, though you notice he stays closer to your side after that.

✧ later, you decide to push a little harder. when the two of you are back at the overworld base, you feign exhaustion, slumping dramatically onto a nearby bench.

✧ "i’m so tired," you complain, rubbing your temples. "today was so stressful. i don’t think i can even move."

✧ before you can say anything else, gepard is already at your side. he crouches slightly, his hands hovering awkwardly as if he’s not sure whether he should offer to help you up or just sit beside you.

✧ "you should have said something earlier," he says, his voice full of concern. "if you’re overworked, you need to take a break. here, let me—"

✧ you cut him off with a teasing smile. "what are you going to do, carry me around belobog like some kind of knight in shining armor?" he freezes for a moment, his cheeks flushing pink. "i mean... if you needed me to, i would."

✧ you weren’t expecting such a sincere answer, and it throws you off balance. your heart flutters, but you’re determined to keep the act going.

✧ "you’re too sweet, gepard," you say with a grin. "but don’t worry, i’m fine. just testing you a little." his blush deepens, and he shifts nervously. "testing me?"

✧ "yeah," you admit, leaning back against the bench. "just wanted to see how far you’d go for me."

✧ he frowns, clearly conflicted. "you don’t need to test me," he says quietly. "if something’s bothering you, you can just tell me. i’d rather you be honest than try to figure things out on your own."

✧ his words hit you harder than you expected, and you suddenly feel a little guilty.

✧ "you’re right," you mumble, looking down at your hands. "sorry, i didn’t mean to make you worry."

✧ he sighs softly, then sits beside you, his shoulder brushing yours. "it’s okay," he says after a moment. "i just... care about you. a lot. and i want you to know that you never have to doubt it."

✧ you glance at him, his expression as open and honest as ever, and your heart aches in the best way.

✧ "thanks, gepard," you say softly.

✧ he smiles, and it’s so warm and genuine that you know you didn’t need to test him in the first place. he’s always been exactly who he says he is—steadfast, caring, and utterly devoted.

✧ “please, don’t do that again. my heart can’t take it. but... i do care about you more than anything.”

dr. ratio

✧ dr. ratio sees through your “stress test” almost immediately, being as perceptive as he is.

✧ testing dr. ratio feels like trying to rattle an unshakable pillar—he’s sharp, meticulous, and composed to the point where you’re almost certain he’ll see through you immediately. but your curiosity gets the better of you. you want to see if the normally calm and collected doctor could ever crack, even slightly, under your antics.

✧ you decide to start small, choosing to "stress" him out during one of his intense research sessions.

✧ "dr. ratio," you call out from across the lab, your tone light and teasing.

✧ he doesn’t look up from his holopad. "yes?"

✧ "can you explain this to me again? i swear i just don’t get it."

✧ you hold up a tablet displaying a simple analysis you’re perfectly capable of interpreting. it’s the third time you’ve asked him about something today, and you’re sure he’s starting to notice.

✧ he sighs, finally lifting his gaze to meet yours. "are you sure you’re not just overthinking it?"

✧ "maybe," you say, shrugging. "or maybe you’re just bad at explaining things."

✧ that earns you a sharp look, and for a split second, you think you’ve actually pushed too far. but then his lips twitch, a flicker of amusement breaking through his usual stoicism.

✧ "bad at explaining things?" he repeats, setting his holopad down. "are you testing my patience, or are you testing my intelligence?"

✧ "both," you reply with a cheeky grin. he chuckles softly, shaking his head. "if you wanted my attention, you could’ve just asked."

✧ despite his calm exterior, you notice the subtle way he shifts closer to you, his focus entirely on you now. you can’t help but feel a small thrill of triumph, though you know you’re playing with fire.

✧ later, you decide to up the stakes. while he’s meticulously organizing data, you lean against the desk, deliberately placing your hand over one of his charts.

✧ "do you ever think about taking a break?" you ask, tilting your head at him. "you work so much, it’s like you’re married to your lab."

✧ he arches an eyebrow, his gaze flicking to your hand covering his work. "and if i am? does that bother you?"

✧ "a little," you admit, your tone teasing. "what if you end up ignoring more important things?"

✧ he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he studies you. "and what would those ‘important things’ be?"

✧ his voice is calm, but there’s a glint in his eyes that makes you feel like you’ve walked right into his trap. "me, obviously," you say, trying to maintain your confidence.

✧ he hums thoughtfully, as if considering your words. then, without warning, he reaches out and gently flicks your forehead.

✧ "you’re not very subtle," he says, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

✧ "ouch," you say, rubbing your forehead with a pout. "was that necessary?"

✧ "completely," he replies smoothly. "if you’re going to test me, at least make it challenging."

✧ his words leave you flustered, and you quickly retreat from his desk, muttering something about needing fresh air. but later, when he finds you in the lounge, he sets a cup of tea in front of you without a word.

✧ "what’s this for?" you ask, looking up at him.

✧ "you seemed tense earlier," he says simply. "and since you’re so concerned about me ignoring important things, I thought I’d remind you that you’re one of them."

✧ your heart skips a beat at his casual declaration, and for once, you’re at a loss for words. he smirks at your reaction, clearly pleased with himself, before walking away, leaving you to process his unexpected yet reassuring gesture.

✧ turns out, dr. ratio isn’t so easy to test—but he makes it clear that he’s always paying attention.

✧ however, he sits you down for a serious talk afterward. “you don’t need to test me. i like you—that much should be obvious by now.”

aventurine

✧ aventurine takes your antics in stride but is clearly not one to tolerate nonsense for long.

✧ but in all seriousness it feels like you're trying to move a mountain. his steadfastness and confidence make it seem impossible to throw him off balance, but you’re determined to see how deep his patience and affection run. you tell yourself it’s just curiosity, but deep down, you crave the reassurance that this larger-than-life man truly feels the same way you do.

✧ it begins subtly, during one of his routine mineral inspections. he’s meticulously cataloging a haul of rare crystals when you decide to “help.”

✧ “aventurine, what’s this one called?” you ask, holding up a dazzling gem you already know the name of.

✧ he barely glances up, his deep voice calm and measured. “that’s a starshard geode. its structure is—”

✧ “wait, wait,” you interrupt, turning it over in your hands. “are you sure? it kinda looks like... a moonstone?”

✧ his head finally lifts, and he looks at you with a mixture of amusement and mild disbelief. “a moonstone? not even close. are you trying to challenge my expertise?”

✧ “maybe,” you tease, placing the gem back in the wrong compartment.

✧ he sighs, but there’s no frustration in his expression, only a patient shake of his head as he moves the gem back to its proper place. “you’re impossible,” he mutters, though there’s a small smile tugging at his lips.

✧ later, you decide to turn up the heat. as he’s polishing a massive chunk of raw celestium, you sit nearby, swinging your legs off the edge of the table.

✧ “aventurine,” you say sweetly.

✧ “mm?” he responds without looking up.

✧ “do you ever get tired of being around me?”

✧ that gets his attention. he pauses mid-polish, his golden eyes narrowing slightly as he turns to face you fully. “what kind of question is that?”

✧ you shrug, feigning nonchalance. “i mean, i can be annoying sometimes. don’t you ever just... wish for some peace and quiet?”

✧ he sets the celestium down with deliberate care and crosses his arms, his imposing figure suddenly feeling even larger.

✧ “you’re trying to get a reaction out of me,” he says plainly, his voice as steady as the ground beneath your feet.

✧ “what? me? no way,” you reply, trying to sound innocent.

✧ he steps closer, leaning down so his face is level with yours. his expression is serious, but there’s a flicker of amusement in his gaze.

✧ “if i wanted peace and quiet, i wouldn’t be here,” he says firmly. “do you really think i’d waste my time with someone i don’t care about?”

✧ his straightforwardness leaves you momentarily stunned, and he chuckles softly at your silence. “you don’t need to test me, you know,” he adds, his tone softening. “if you have doubts, just ask. i don’t like games, but i’ll always give you the truth.”

✧ you feel a pang of guilt for pushing him, but his reassurance warms your heart. “sorry,” you mumble, looking down. “i just wanted to be sure...”

✧ he reaches out, gently lifting your chin so you’re forced to meet his gaze.

✧ “then let me make it clear,” he says, his golden eyes unwavering. “you matter to me. and that’s not going to change, no matter how many gems you mislabel.”

✧ you laugh softly, the tension melting away as his words sink in. it was clear that his affection for you is as solid and enduring as the earth itself.

boothill

✧ boothill is rough around the edges but has a soft spot for you, so your little test catches him off guard.

✧ boothill's unmovable, stone-faced, and never shows signs of cracking, no matter what you throw his way. but that’s exactly why you’re so curious. you’ve seen his stoic side, his professionalism, and his dedication, but does that mean there’s any space for you in that heart of his? you decide to try and test the waters.

✧ it begins in a quiet moment, after a long mission. you’re both back at the base, sitting side by side on a bench. boothill is cleaning his weapon, his focus so intense that it feels like nothing in the world could distract him. you watch him for a moment, then decide to start.

�� “boothill,” you call out softly.

✧ he doesn’t look up, but you see his fingers pause for a fraction of a second before he resumes cleaning his weapon.

✧ “yeah?”

✧ “do you ever wonder if you’re too... distant? i mean, you’re always so focused, so serious. don’t you ever need to relax a bit?”

✧ he glances at you now, his piercing gaze meeting yours for just a second. but he doesn’t answer right away, instead just continuing with his task.

✧ “relaxing isn’t exactly something i prioritize,” he replies with his usual calm. “there’s work to be done.”

✧ you scoff lightly, pushing your luck a little. “work, work, work. what about you, huh? when’s it your turn to... i don’t know, enjoy life? have some fun?”

✧ he looks at you then, and there’s something almost unreadable in his expression. his eyes soften just a fraction, and he lets out a small sigh.

✧ “if you think i don’t enjoy life, you’re wrong,” he says, voice low but surprisingly tender. “i just don’t need distractions.”

✧ you press a little more, feeling a mischievous spark inside you. “so, you’re saying you don’t need me to distract you?”

✧ boothill stops what he’s doing for a moment, and this time, he stares at you, really staring. for a split second, you think you’ve gone too far. but then he leans back, folding his arms across his chest, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

✧ “testing me, huh?” he says, his voice laced with dry amusement. “you’re a little more persistent than i expected.”

✧ you shrug nonchalantly, hoping your nonchalance hides the fact that your heart is pounding. “i just want to know if you care, boothill. i mean, you’re so... detached sometimes. how do i know it’s not all just professional to you?”

✧ his gaze softens, and for a brief moment, there’s a vulnerability in his eyes that catches you off guard. then, without warning, he reaches out and gently grabs your hand, pulling it into his lap.

✧ “care?” he murmurs, his thumb stroking the back of your hand in slow, deliberate movements. “i care more than you know.”

✧ your breath catches in your throat, and you feel the weight of his words settle over you like a blanket. the walls he’s built around himself are still there, but now, you realize that inside, there’s room for you.

✧ “you don’t need to test me for that,” he adds, his voice low and reassuring. “just... don’t expect me to show it the same way as everyone else.”

✧ you can feel the sincerity in his touch, in his gaze, and something inside you finally clicks. boothill’s love is subtle, understated, and a little rough around the edges, but it’s real.

✧ “i get it,” you whisper, squeezing his hand gently. “sorry for making you doubt me.”

✧ he chuckles quietly, a rare sound that makes your heart flutter. “you’re relentless. but that’s why i like you.”

✧ and there it is—he may not always wear his heart on his sleeve, but boothill’s love for you is unwavering, and that’s something you can rely on, even if it’s not always obvious.

gallagher

✧ gallagher is as easygoing as they come, but even he has limits.

✧ it starts innocently enough—just a playful attempt to poke at his carefully maintained composure. he’s in the middle of preparing a meal, the scent of fresh herbs and sizzling meat filling the air as he moves about the kitchen with his usual precision. you, however, are seated at the table, tapping your fingers lightly against the wood, watching him with a raised eyebrow.

✧ “gallagher,” you start, your voice casual but laced with curiosity.

✧ “hm?” he replies, glancing at you briefly before returning to his task.

✧ “how do you always manage to keep your cool? i mean, don’t you ever get tired of being so... well, perfect?”

✧ he doesn’t look up this time, but there’s a subtle shift in the air, like he’s sensing you’re trying to test him. his movements are smooth and measured, and he doesn’t skip a beat as he finishes plating the food.

✧ “there’s no point in losing composure over things that don’t matter,” he says matter-of-factly, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. “chaos doesn’t make for a good meal.”

✧ you bite your lip, leaning back in your chair. “so, you’re saying everything has to be ‘in its place’ with you? even with people?”

✧ his hands freeze for just a moment, and you catch a flicker of something in his expression—maybe amusement, maybe something else. but it’s gone as quickly as it came. he finishes plating the meal with a soft sigh, setting the plate in front of you.

✧ “i’m not a machine, if that’s what you’re implying,” he says, finally meeting your gaze. “i’m not perfect. i just prefer things to be organized—helps with focus.”

✧ you raise an eyebrow, pushing a bit more. “oh? and does that mean you like it when people don’t mess with your focus? or is that just a ‘you’ thing?”

✧ gallagher pauses, studying you carefully. for a moment, the air is thick with tension, but then he smirks slightly, a glimmer of teasing in his eyes.

✧ “messing with my focus?” he repeats, his voice playful now. “is that what you’re doing? because, if i’m being honest, it’s working. you’ve got my attention now.”

✧ you blink, taken aback by his response. you expected him to brush it off, but instead, he steps closer, his presence a little more imposing now.

✧ “you know,” he continues, his tone lower, “you’re not as subtle as you think you are. but i’ll give you points for persistence.”

✧ you try to recover, but there’s something about the way he looks at you that leaves you speechless for a moment.

✧ “persistence?” you murmur, a little breathless.

✧ he nods, his smile softening just enough to show you that it’s genuine. “you’ve got a lot of questions, but i don’t need to play games with you. if you want answers, just ask. you don’t have to test me to find out if i’m interested.”

✧ his words hit you harder than you expected, and you realize that gallagher isn’t someone to hide his feelings. it’s not that he’s cold—he’s just direct. he’ll never say it in the way you might expect, but his actions speak louder than anything else.

✧ “i guess i’m just used to waiting for things to fall into place,” you admit, trying to play it cool.

✧ he leans in slightly, the faintest hint of humor in his eyes. “you don’t have to wait with me. i’m already here.”

✧ his tone is simple, but it carries a weight of meaning that makes your heart skip a beat. gallagher doesn’t do drama, but when he gives you his attention, it’s clear that he’s all in, no matter how much he might downplay it.

moze

✧ moze is a man of few words, and your antics genuinely confuse him. 😰😰

✧  he's calm, composed, and always so serious, which makes you determined to break through that cold, unreadable exterior. you’ve decided to test his limits, just to see if you can get a real reaction out of him.

✧ it starts on a typical day after a mission. you’re sitting across from him in the common room, watching as he pores over some data logs. your usual routine involves making things just a little more interesting for him, because let’s face it—moze needs to lighten up.

✧ “moze,” you say, a grin tugging at your lips.

✧ he doesn’t look up, but you can see the slight twitch of his eyebrow. “what is it?”

✧ you make a show of examining the ceiling, tapping your chin dramatically. “have you ever wondered if the world is actually upside down? like, maybe gravity's all wrong, and we’re just... stuck to the floor by pure luck?”

✧ moze pauses for a split second, probably wondering how you can turn a perfectly normal moment into this. then, without missing a beat, he glances at you, deadpan.

✧ “if the world was upside down, i assume you'd be the one stuck on the ceiling by pure luck,” he says flatly, already returning to his work.

✧ you burst into laughter, but moze doesn’t even flinch, just continues typing, his expression still as composed as ever. he’s like a stone statue, and it’s honestly a little impressive.

✧ “okay, okay,” you say, wiping a tear from your eye. “let’s try something different.” you lean forward, eyes sparkling with mischief. “do you ever get bored? you know, just sitting there all serious, pretending like you’re too busy to talk?”

✧ this time, he doesn’t even look up from his work. “bored? No. Are you trying to see how far you can push me before i snap?”

✧ you nod, trying not to smile too widely. “yep! How’s it going so far?”

✧ moze lets out a soft sigh, clearly unamused but still managing to hold his ground. “i’m doing great. You, on the other hand... are a handful.”

✧ “a handful? me?” you gasp dramatically, clutching your chest. “I’m hurt, moze. I’m just trying to keep things interesting around here!”

✧ his lips twitch ever so slightly, but it’s almost imperceptible. “you’re making it interesting... in the same way that throwing a tantrum in a library is interesting.”

✧ you tilt your head, pretending to consider this for a moment. “so, you’re saying you don’t like chaos?”

✧ “i like order,” he says, never looking away from the screen. “but if you’re asking if you can test my patience, then yes, you’re doing a very good job of that.”

✧ you giggle, thoroughly entertained by the way he’s handling you. "oh, come on, just admit it. you love the chaos! You secretly think it's hilarious when I mess with you."

✧ moze looks up at you for the first time in a while, his expression still all business but with the tiniest glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “if by hilarious, you mean mildly irritating, then yes.”

✧ “mildly?!” you gasp in faux offense. “I’m doing my best here, moze! how could you rate my efforts so low?”

✧ he leans back slightly in his chair, finally breaking his stoic routine. “honestly, i’m impressed you’re still going. most people would’ve given up by now.”

✧ “well, i'm not ‘most people,’ am I?” you reply with a cheeky smile.

✧ he smirks ever so slightly, though it’s mostly to himself. “no. clearly.”

✧ you can’t help but giggle, because while moze definitely isn’t as easily rattled as others, it’s clear he’s starting to find the humor in your antics.

✧ “admit it, moze,” you tease. “i’m the most fun you’ve had all week.”

✧ he raises an eyebrow, finally closing the data pad and turning his full attention to you. “if by ‘fun’ you mean ‘annoying distraction,’ then yes.”

✧ you stick your tongue out at him playfully. “you love me, admit it.”

✧ moze chuckles dryly, though it’s far from his usual serious tone. “you’re impossible. But for some reason, i don’t mind.”

✧ “there it is!” you exclaim, pointing dramatically. “the confession! finally!”

✧ he sighs, but there’s a hint of fondness in his eyes now. “don’t push your luck. i’m still not letting you off the hook for the chaos you’ve caused.”

✧ you grin, leaning back in your seat, satisfied. “you can’t get rid of me that easily, moze. get used to it.”

✧ “i’m already used to it,” he mutters under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head.

jiaoqiu

✧ jiaoqiu is calm and composed, but your “test” slowly chips away at his patience.

✧ his idea of "testing" his patience feels almost like trying to mess with a finely tuned recipe—you know that if you push too far, something could spoil, but you can't resist seeing how he’ll react. the thing about jiaoqiu is that he’s blind, but that doesn’t stop him from being as sharp as a knife when it comes to his senses. especially when it comes to cooking—his true passion.

✧ you’ve noticed something about him, though. the more you “stress” him, the more attentive he gets, in his own way. it’s kind of like the game’s in his favor, and you’re slowly realizing he might be playing right along with you.

✧ one evening, you’re hanging out in the kitchen with jiaoqiu, and you’ve already decided to take your "testing" to the next level. as he prepares some of his signature dishes—no surprise, they're the most complex meals imaginable, even though he can't see a thing—you're doing your best to throw him off.

✧ “jiaoqiu, are you sure you don’t want me to help with that? it looks... dangerous,” you tease, noticing the steam rising from the pot in front of him.

✧ “dangerous?” he repeats, clearly amused but not thrown off. he moves deftly around the kitchen, the sound of his chopping board in the background. “my dear, cooking isn’t dangerous unless you’re trying to make something impossible.”

✧ you laugh softly, leaning against the counter. “so, you’re saying if I started pulling the wrong spices out, you wouldn’t even notice?”

✧ he pauses, then lets out a small chuckle of his own. “i might not see it, but i can certainly smell it. and don’t think i don’t know when you’re reaching for something you shouldn’t be.”

✧ you feign shock, dramatically holding your hands up as if caught in the act. “i would never! i have complete respect for your culinary expertise!”

✧ jiaoqiu hums, as if pondering your words, but then he continues his cooking with that quiet confidence he always carries. “you’d be more convincing if you didn’t have that mischievous glint in your eye.”

✧ your grin widens. it’s clear he’s onto you now, but you still try to push. “well, how would you know? You can't see, after all.”

✧ “true,” he replies calmly, “but i know the sounds of the kitchen well enough. if you were to drop something, or mess with the ingredients... i’d hear it. the rhythm of it all gives me a good idea of what’s happening.”

✧ you blink, stunned. you had been testing him, but jiaoqiu seems to always be one step ahead. how does he know? how can he be so confident?

✧ “and,” he adds, his voice still soft but with a hint of playfulness, “i know you, [your name].”

✧ you laugh, finally admitting defeat. “okay, okay! you got me. but seriously, how do you do it? how do you know where everything is?”

✧ he pauses his cooking and turns toward you, his voice warm yet full of humor. “let’s say i’ve had a lot of practice. and when you love something as much as i love cooking, you learn to rely on all your senses, not just sight. even when you can’t see, your other senses fill in the gaps.”

✧ you watch him work for a moment, and despite his lack of eyesight, he’s a master in the kitchen. it’s clear that his expertise comes from much more than just the act of cooking; it’s a connection to the ingredients, the textures, the sounds of each step.

✧ “okay, but what if i really messed something up? what if i did something totally wrong, just to mess with you?”

✧ he raises an eyebrow—something that’s only visible through his voice, but you get the feeling he’s smirking. “well, if you did that, i’d probably just end up fixing it before you even noticed. and then i’d make you do the dishes.”

✧ you groan, defeated but also thoroughly entertained. “you’re way too good at this.”

✧ “you’re the one testing me, not the other way around,” jiaoqiu reminds you, returning his focus to his cooking. but this time, you can hear the faint warmth in his tone, a reassurance that’s just for you. “but don’t worry, i’m not going to let you ruin dinner. even if you try to be a little mischievous.”

✧ there’s something comforting in the way he handles it all—the teasing, the games you play, even the mess-ups you deliberately throw his way. he may not be able to see you, but you know he can feel your presence, your energy, and you can’t help but feel safe in it. despite his teasing, despite the quiet confidence, jiaoqiu has a way of making everything feel just... right.

✧ “next time,” you say, grinning, “i’m going to really throw you off.”

✧ jiaoqiu just laughs softly, shaking his head as he finishes up his dish. “i’ll be waiting, [your name]. i’ll be waiting.”

✧  “but uh, next time, just ask me. there’s no need for this kind of... drama.”

sunday

✧ sunday is all sunshine and joy, but even he can get flustered when you start testing him.

✧ sunday is a halovian, with those distinct small fluffy wings nestled around his neck—adorably soft and always twitching with his every mood. you’ve learned that while he might seem all chill and sunny on the surface, he’s got his own quirks, and if you push him far enough, he’s more likely to play along than snap at you.

✧ one day, you’re lounging in the living area, and sunday’s sitting across from you, lazily flipping through a book. you can’t resist; it’s time for some mischief.

✧ “hey, sunday,” you call, trying to hide your grin.

✧ “yeah?” he replies, looking off guard. "have you ever been nervous before? like, nervous nervous?"

✧ “nervous? me? c’mon, i’m practically impossible to ruffle.” he gives you a lighthearted shrug, but you can see the playful challenge in his eyes. he’s used to keeping things breezy, but you’ve caught his attention now.

✧ you press on, deciding to have a little more fun with this. “oh really? well, let’s see... I’ve got a whole list of ways I could mess with you.”

✧ sunday doesn’t seem fazed at first, but you notice the way his fluffy wings twitch a little more with each word you say. it’s like a radar for his mood—you know he’s still calm, but there’s something in the way his feathers ruffle when he’s listening to you.

✧ “well, you’ll have to be a lot sneakier than that if you want to get under my skin,” he says, flashing you that signature grin of his, but now you can see a little spark of competitiveness in his eyes.

✧ you, of course, aren’t backing down. “let’s see if i can. hey, sunday, do you ever get tired of being all... perfect?” you ask, making air quotes around "perfect" with your hands.

✧ sunday’s wings flutter again, and this time, you catch the faintest shift in his posture. “perfect?” he asks, trying to play it off, but there’s a subtle twitch in the fluff near his neck. “you’re really gonna call me perfect? what’s wrong with that?”

✧ oh, he’s biting now. perfect. you lean in, voice teasing. “well, it just seems a little... too easy, don’t you think? i mean, you’re always so relaxed, always in control. how do you even do it?”

✧ you can see sunday’s lips twitch in amusement, and his wings give an exaggerated little flutter, like they’re bristling. he’s definitely aware now, but the best part is how he's trying to play it cool, still acting like he’s the one in control.

✧ “you really think i’ve got it all under control, huh?” he responds, a bit of a challenge creeping into his tone. “well, i guess i am pretty awesome. i mean, who could resist all this charm?” he gestures to himself dramatically, his wings fluffing out like he’s proud of the effect they have.

✧ you laugh, but don’t let up. “oh, i’m sure the charm works, but... do you ever get tired of being this smooth?” you tease, pretending to think it over. “i mean, surely you get a little flustered once in a while, right? just a little bit?”

✧ that’s when you see it—a small, barely perceptible shift. sunday’s wings twitch against his neck, brushing lightly as he tries to keep his expression neutral, but you catch it. there’s a softening in his demeanor, a slight heat creeping into his tone.

✧ “huh. so now i’m too smooth?” he teases, but it’s a little less confident now. “maybe you’re just getting good at finding my weak spots.”

✧ you smile, leaning back triumphantly. “maybe. or maybe you’re just too easy to read, sunday.”

✧ he narrows his eyes playfully, but you catch the small, almost imperceptible shift in his posture as his wings flutter just a little more. it's like they’re signaling his internal shift—he’s starting to realize you’re not just playing around.

✧ “okay, okay,” sunday says with a dramatic sigh, his wings now fully unfurled behind him like a soft, fluffy halo. he rubs the back of his neck and gives you a teasing look. “you wanna stress me out, huh? well, guess i’ll have to turn the tables a little.”

✧ with that, sunday leans closer, grinning mischievously. his wings brush against his neck again, this time on purpose, causing a soft, tickling sensation that makes you jump a little.

✧ “how’s this?” he asks, and now, you realize—he’s playing his own game. “i think we’re gonna see how you handle me.”

✧ sunday’s easygoing nature mixed with his unexpected turn in this little game makes it all the more fun. as he continues to toy with you, you can’t help but laugh at how well he’s handled your antics.

✧ “alright, alright,” you admit, finally letting the game end, “you win. i’ll stop testing your patience... for now.”

✧ his wings flutter triumphantly behind him as he gives you a mock salute, his grin still wide and playful. “you’re welcome to try again any time, [name]. but you should know—I don’t get flustered that easily. unless...” he pauses, giving you a teasing look, “...you do something even crazier next time.”

✧ you can’t help but smile back. sunday’s laid-back nature might be hard to crack, but it’s clear—he does enjoy the game, and in the end, he’s always up for a little bit of fun at your expense.

jing yuan

✧ jing yuan usually keeps his composure, but when you start “testing” his patience, he begins to crack ever so slightly.

✧ jing yuan is the epitome of calm, controlled elegance. he carries himself like a well-balanced scale, measured in his actions and words, always composed, always unfazed. but when you start testing him that balance teeters, just a little, though he’s careful to maintain his outward serenity.

✧ you know he's a man of patience, but every person has their breaking point—and you're curious to see how far you can push his.

✧ it all starts innocently enough, a bit of teasing and mild mischief on your part. you might "accidentally" misplace his paperwork, or maybe ask him endless trivial questions when you know he’s buried in his work. you’re not being cruel, of course—just playful, testing the waters to see if he’ll falter.

✧ he humors you at first, a chuckle escaping his lips when you ask something particularly silly. “what is it, my dear?” he asks, a gentle smile tugging at his lips, his golden eyes never leaving his work. “another question for me?”

✧ but as the questions come one after another, you start to notice a shift. his pen slows, and for a moment, his fingers still. he leans back in his chair, gaze lifting to meet yours.

“you’re playing a dangerous game, my dear,” he says, his voice low, but laced with amusement. “are you testing me to see if i’ll lose interest? because i can assure you, i won’t.”

✧ there’s a sharpness to his tone now, the calm facade slipping just slightly. it's subtle, but you catch it—a flicker of something deeper behind his eyes. his gaze darkens with an unreadable emotion, and for the first time, you wonder if you've pushed him too far.

✧ but you’re not one to back down easily, so you keep going, shifting the game into a new gear. you become a little more persistent, trying to get under his skin without being too obvious. you ask more ridiculous questions, throw in more distractions, all in the name of seeing how he reacts. surely, a man like jing yuan, so steady and composed, would get annoyed eventually, right?

✧ you watch him for a long moment, his gaze steady and unwavering. His fingers tap lightly on the edge of the desk, his lips curling into a knowing smile.

✧ "is that what you're after?" he asks, his voice softer, but with a certain challenge in it. "you wish to see how far i'll bend? to see if i can be swayed by such... antics?"

✧ your breath catches in your throat, and you wonder if you’ve finally crossed the line. but instead of growing irritated, jing yuan does something entirely unexpected. he sets his pen down with a deliberate motion and stands up, walking around to your side of the desk. his presence looms over you in the most comforting, yet commanding way.

✧ before you can even react, he reaches for your hand, his touch warm and steady. “i can’t help but wonder…” he begins, his voice dipping into something more intimate, more affectionate than you were prepared for. “did you think you could test me without consequences?”

✧ you blink up at him, the playful tension suddenly replaced by a sense of vulnerability. there’s something in his eyes now, a deep knowing.

✧ without waiting for an answer, he leans down, his lips brushing lightly against your ear. “you’re not the only one who can play games, [name],” he murmurs, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine.

✧ you’re thrown off balance. the tables have turned, and now it’s you who’s feeling slightly flustered. where you were once testing him, now he’s testing you. he’s suddenly more attentive, more affectionate, drawing you in with every word, every touch.

✧ he chuckles softly when he sees your reaction, his golden eyes glinting with amusement. “you didn’t think i’d let you have all the fun, did you?” he teases. “i must admit, i’m rather enjoying this.”

✧ you open your mouth to respond, but all you manage is a soft laugh, caught between trying to keep your composure and wanting to give in to the sudden wave of warmth he’s throwing your way.

✧ “alright, jing yuan,” you say, trying to maintain your cool, but failing miserably. “i’ll admit defeat... for now.”

✧ his smile widens, a gentle but confident grin. “defeat? no, my dear. this isn’t about defeat. this is about knowing where we stand. and now that i’ve shown you, i expect no more games.”

✧ his words hang in the air like a promise, and you realize he’s not just testing you—he’s reassuring you, in his own way. with him, you never had to worry about being lost in his affection, because it’s clear: he’s always there, steady as ever.

✧ and just like that, the game you started has ended—only now, it’s more than you ever expected.

dan heng

✧ dan heng is the embodiment of calm and collected. his reserved nature and stoic expression almost never crack, even under the most trying of circumstances. it takes a lot to throw him off balance, which is why you’ve made it your mission to see if you can break that calm demeanor of his—just a little.

✧ at first, you start small. maybe you ask him to help you with something you’re perfectly capable of doing yourself, like reaching for a book you’re clearly just a bit too lazy to grab. you catch him off guard, but as expected, he’s kind enough to help without comment.

✧ “thank you, dan heng,” you say with an exaggerated sigh of relief.

✧ he gives you a short, quiet nod, his expression unchanged. “it’s no trouble,” he mutters, though there’s a faint suspicion in his voice.

✧ you smile innocently, but it’s not lost on you how quickly he’s growing aware of your game. so, you keep at it, asking for more and more “help” with things you’re fully capable of doing on your own. every time he obliges, you see his eyes narrow ever so slightly, and you can almost feel the gears turning in his head as he processes what's going on.

✧ “dan heng,” you ask one day, leaning into the playful tension between you two, “could you pass me the salt?” the shaker’s right in front of you, of course.

✧ there’s a long pause. his gaze flicks over to the salt shaker, then back to you, his brow furrowing just the tiniest bit. “you’re not really that helpless, are you?” he asks, his voice quiet but sharp.

✧ you feign surprise. “i’m not? you sure?”

✧ he doesn’t respond right away, his fingers tapping lightly on the surface of the table. you can practically see the wheels turning behind his eyes.

✧ “i know you’re not,” he says finally, voice even but tinged with a little irritation now. “so, what are you trying to prove?”

✧ you chuckle softly, realizing you’ve definitely gotten under his skin now. but it’s more out of curiosity than malice—you want to see how far you can go before he snaps, how long he’ll let you test him before he turns the tables.

✧ “oh, nothing,” you say innocently. “just wanted to see if you’d do it without asking questions.”

✧ dan heng’s eyes narrow, and for the first time in this little game, he seems to truly study you, as if trying to gauge your intentions.

✧ “you’re not as subtle as you think,” he finally says, his tone firm but not unkind. “you’re trying to get a reaction out of me, aren’t you?”

✧ you grin, leaning back with a satisfied look. “maybe... what’s the harm?”

✧ dan heng stands up from his seat, a deep sigh escaping his lips as he slowly gathers his things. you know you’ve pushed him a little, but you’re unsure if he’s genuinely upset or just playing along.

✧ “fine,” he mutters. “you want a reaction? here it is.”

✧ you blink as he steps closer, his usual reserved demeanor slipping as he looks down at you with a slight, almost imperceptible frown. “if i didn’t care about you, i wouldn’t even be here, helping you with these ridiculous requests. so, stop trying to push my patience.”

✧ you freeze for a moment, surprised at how direct and blunt he’s being. there’s no anger in his words—just a quiet frustration, the kind that comes from realizing how much you’ve been testing him.

✧ he lets out a short laugh, shaking his head as if he can’t quite believe what he’s dealing with. “honestly, i’m not sure if you’re trying to get me to lose my patience or just see how far you can push me.”

✧ you smile sheepishly, knowing you’ve been a little relentless with your “tests.” “i guess a bit of both,” you admit, but there’s a softness in your voice now. “i just wanted to see if you’d care enough to call me out on it.”

✧ dan heng sighs deeply, but now there’s a warmth to his expression that wasn’t there before. he steps closer and places a hand gently on your shoulder, the touch more tender than you expected. “i care enough to call you out, even if it means putting up with your nonsense.”

✧ it’s quiet for a moment, but you can feel the sincerity in his words. you’ve definitely ruffled his calm, but in a way that shows just how much he’s paying attention, how much he truly cares for you.

✧ you laugh lightly, not expecting him to be so honest about it, but secretly glad to know you’ve gotten through to him. “i’ll try not to test you so much, okay?”

✧ dan heng shakes his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “i’ll believe it when i see it.”

welt yang

✧ welt, being the mature and experienced gentleman he is, notices your little “test” immediately.

✧ the man is used to dealing with delicate matters, whether in his long history of research, his time as a historian, or the countless responsibilities that come with leading in times of crisis. so, when you start testing his patience, you know it’s going to take a lot more than a small inconvenience to shake him. that being said, you enjoy challenging him, just a little, to see how far you can push him.

✧ you start off small, of course. asking him the most trivial questions when he’s in the middle of reading one of his ancient books. “hey, welt,” you say sweetly, “do you think this book is boring?” the book’s not even in your hands, and he knows that you’re probably more interested in him than in the actual content of the text.

✧ at first, he doesn’t mind. he chuckles softly and lowers the book, humoring you with a small smile. “if i’m being honest, i would say it depends on your taste in reading. but you do know i can’t really afford distractions right now, right?”

✧ you smile, but this isn’t nearly enough to throw him off. you push again, dropping little hints like the fact that he’s been at his desk for hours on end and could probably use a break. you make a comment about how he’s always so serious, so focused, and maybe you should help him lighten up.

✧ “you know,” you tease, “you work too hard. you should take a break. come on, just for a minute?”

✧ welt sets the book down and looks at you, raising an eyebrow. “i’m not sure if i would call it ‘work’ if i’m doing something i enjoy, but i do appreciate the concern. perhaps you have something else in mind to keep me occupied?”

✧ his tone is light, playful even, but there’s something in his eyes that suggests he’s well aware of your intentions. he’s not the type to get easily upset, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t picked up on your little game.

✧ “you really know how to throw me off track, don’t you?” he says with a smile, clearly amused by your antics. “is this your way of seeing how far i’ll go before i lose my cool?”

✧ you grin, not backing down. “maybe. you seem so calm all the time. i wanted to know if i could make you flinch, just a little.”

✧ welt lets out a soft laugh, leaning back in his chair. “you’re testing me now, aren’t you? i suppose i should’ve expected as much from you.”

✧ you notice his hands move to the side of his glasses, adjusting them ever so slightly, and that’s when you realize: he’s fully aware of what’s going on.

✧ “you know, it’s cute that you think i’m impervious to distractions,” he continues, clearly enjoying your playful attempts. “but perhaps you underestimate how well i’ve learned to focus in the midst of chaos.”

✧ you can’t help but laugh at that, realizing that no matter how hard you try, you’re not going to make him flinch. he’s too smooth, too used to handling these kinds of things.

✧ “maybe i should stop testing you,” you say, a bit sheepishly. “you’re just too good at staying calm.”

✧ welt smiles knowingly. “i’ve had plenty of practice, but if you really want to test me further, i’m sure there are other ways to do so.” he leans forward, raising an eyebrow, his voice turning just a bit teasing. “but i’m not so easily caught off guard, dear. if you want to see me lose my composure, you’ll have to be a little more creative.”

✧ you blink in surprise at how easily he flipped the situation on its head, and then it dawns on you: you’ve just been outplayed.

✧ he notices the realization in your expression and gives you an amused glance. “now, if you’re really interested, i can give you some advice on how to keep your distractions less obvious in the future. but don’t expect me to fall for it again so easily.”

✧ you can’t help but laugh. “alright, alright, you win this round.”

✧ welt chuckles softly, picking up his book again. “it’s not about winning or losing, but about knowing how to handle what comes your way. and if you ever need a distraction, you know where to find me.”

✧ “but do you know, if you want reassurance, you only need to ask. i don’t play games when it comes to my feelings for you.” my man does NOT play when it comes to you!! 🙅‍♀️ 🙅‍♀️

blade

✧ he is stoic, so basically this feels like poking a sleeping tiger. you’d try to stress him out by being overly affectionate in public or daringly teasing him in front of the stellaron hunters.

✧ blade is a man of few words, and even fewer smiles. so when you start poking at him, trying to get a rise out of him, you know you’re walking a fine line. but that’s exactly what you want, isn’t it? to see just how much you can push before he cracks.

✧ it starts with small, playful jabs. teasing him about his stoic nature, of course. you know he’s not the type to express himself easily, but that doesn’t stop you from trying to bring out something more from him.

✧ “blade, do you ever smile? i think i’d faint if i saw it.”

✧ you say it with a mischievous grin, watching for any sign of a reaction. his first response is the usual – a glare that could melt steel. but there’s something else in his eyes, a flicker of something that tells you he’s holding back a smirk. deep down, you know he secretly enjoys your antics.

✧ “you’re really trying to get me to laugh, aren’t you?” he says, his voice low and steady, though it has a hint of something playful beneath it.

✧ you push further, though, not willing to let up so easily. “come on, blade. you can’t possibly be that serious all the time. it’s like you’re stuck in permanent brooding mode.”

✧ and that’s when the situation takes a turn. before you can even process it, he grabs your wrist with surprising speed, pulling you close, his voice dropping even lower, sending a shiver down your spine.

✧ “you think i’d waste my time with someone i didn’t care about? don’t test me.”

✧ his words come with an intensity that you didn’t expect, his presence so overpowering that it almost takes the air out of your lungs. you blink, momentarily taken aback, but you don’t back down. the playful teasing lingers in the air, even though you can tell that you’ve crossed the line.

✧ but blade, in his own way, seems to realize that. after a moment, he releases his grip on your wrist, letting out a quiet sigh. the edge of his tone softens, just slightly.

✧ “you’re important to me,” he mutters, his voice low but genuine. “stop doubting that.”

✧ there’s no grand declaration, no flowery words. just the blunt honesty of a man who’s difficult to read, yet in his own way, he’s showing you something far deeper than what words could ever convey.

✧ you watch him for a moment, realizing that, despite all his coldness, there’s a warmth buried deep beneath the surface – one that he’s not so quick to reveal, but it’s there, unmistakable in its own quiet way.

✧ “i guess i’ll just have to take your word for it, huh?” you say with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood once more.

✧ blade doesn’t respond with a smile, but the slightest hint of amusement flickers in his eyes. and maybe, just maybe, that’s his version of a win.

sampo koski

✧ sampo loves games, so he immediately plays along with your little “test.”

✧ sampo has always been the life of the party, the one with a smile on his face and a witty comeback ready for anything. so when you start throwing him off with your uncharacteristic seriousness, it’s like throwing a wrench in his well-oiled machine of flirtations.

✧ you don’t laugh at his jokes, you don’t play along with his flirtations, and you certainly don’t give him the usual banter he’s used to. instead, you respond with an almost eerie level of calm.

✧ “oh? no witty comeback today? you’re scaring me, sweetheart,” he teases, leaning back, watching you with an exaggerated frown as though he’s genuinely concerned. you can see the twinkle in his eyes, but he’s trying to hold it together.

✧ at first, you don’t budge. you just stare at him, deadpan, giving nothing away.

✧ he blinks a few times, clearly thrown off. then, he lets out a dramatic sigh. “oh no, what’s happening? is this… a breakup? did i mess up somehow? what did i do wrong? i can change! i swear, i’ll stop with the flirtations—i’ll even stop trying to steal your snacks!" he says, eyes widening as though he's on the verge of a crisis.

✧ the way he overacts is so ridiculous that it’s hard to keep a straight face. but you’re committed, your expression still unreadable as you let him stew in the nonsense he’s coming up with.

✧ when you finally can’t hold it in anymore and let out a soft laugh, his entire demeanor shifts. in an instant, his playful grin is back, and he pulls you into a sudden hug.

✧ “sweetheart, if i didn’t like you, i wouldn’t stick around this long. but nice try!” he says between chuckles, his voice playful and warm.

✧ you can’t help but smile at his antics. he may act like he’s been genuinely stressed out, but deep down, you know he’s been enjoying every minute of your teasing.

✧ he pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes sparkling mischievously. “you really had me going there for a second. but hey, now i know you care enough to test me. i’ll take it as a compliment.”

✧ you shake your head, still amused by his dramatic performance. “don’t ever change, sampo.”

✧ he winks at you, his usual grin returning in full force. “don’t worry, sweetheart, i’m never going to change… unless it’s to make you laugh more.”

luocha

✧ luocha is patient and gentle, but even he has his limits. you’d try to test him by asking endless hypothetical questions about relationships or intentionally making vague statements about your feelings.

✧ when you start throwing questions his way, testing his patience with doubts about his feelings, you know he’ll handle it with the same serenity he always exudes. but the longer it goes on, the more you start to wonder if you’re pushing him too far.

✧ “what if someone better came along?” you ask casually, watching his expression for a hint of reaction. it’s a harmless question in your mind, but you can tell he takes it seriously.

✧ he pauses, his hand resting gently on his chin, thinking it through before answering with his usual calmness. “if someone better came along, then you’d deserve to find happiness with them, just as I would wish for your happiness no matter the circumstances.”

✧ his response isn’t what you expected. it’s thoughtful, selfless, and it makes you question your own intentions. but you can’t help yourself – you press on, seeking reassurance in the form of his steady words.

✧ “but what if you don’t feel the same as you did before? what if you find someone who catches your eye more than me?”

✧ luocha’s gaze softens as he listens to your words. there’s no anger in his eyes, no irritation. only concern, as if he’s trying to understand why you would even think such a thing. his voice remains calm, but now there’s a slight edge to it, as if the question weighs on him more than you realize.

✧ “are you trying to test me?” he asks, tilting his head slightly, his brow furrowing just enough to show he’s genuinely curious. “i hope you know i mean every word i’ve said to you. my feelings are not something i take lightly.”

✧ you’re taken aback, your mind racing as you realize just how much this is affecting him. you weren’t trying to hurt him; you just wanted to see if he truly cared. but now, the weight of your questions hangs heavy in the air.

✧ seeing the uncertainty in your eyes, he lets out a small, almost imperceptible sigh. he reaches out, taking your hand in his, offering you a reassuring smile that radiates warmth.

✧ “there’s no need for doubt,” he says softly, his voice gentle yet firm. “my feelings for you are genuine, and they won’t change based on fleeting insecurities. you are the only one i see, the only one i care for.”

✧ his words carry a weight that resonates deep within you, his sincerity undeniable. you feel a warmth spread through your chest, a sense of relief washing over you.

✧ “i’m sorry,” you say, a little embarrassed by how far you’ve pushed him. “i didn’t mean to make you doubt how much i care.”

✧ luocha chuckles softly, his thumb brushing gently over the back of your hand. “it’s alright,” he says, his voice filled with understanding. “i know you’re just seeking reassurance. but i hope this is enough to put your mind at ease.”

✧ you nod, grateful for his patience and the depth of his affection. his unwavering calmness and the way he handles your doubts only make you feel even more certain that, with him, you never need to worry about someone else coming along.

note: if you would like to be added to the honkai star rail taglist pls just ask me!! dont be shy

taglist 🏷️:  @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls @yuri-is-silly @khoiyyu @daydreaming-paradies if im missing anyone please tell me because i have an inkling feeling i missed a few..

liking + following + reblogs are very much appreciated!!

[momo-minomo]

I just intended to check tumblr for a moment before bed when this post caught me by the fucking throat. It’s now past 1:30am and I’m feeling loopy from the melatonin I took so forgive me if this drabble is trash lol.

I’ve made a huge mistake, Clark thought absently.

It had seemed so reasonable in the moment, both he and Bruce were hurting and exhausted after a near wold-ending threat. If Bruce hadn’t been every bit as clever and dauntless as he is Clark would have been trapped in the phantom zone with the dozens of world ending enemies that he’d put there, all of them wanting to tear him apart strip by strip. If Clark had been a fraction slower to react when he’d escaped their enemy would have torn out Bruce’s too-kind heart.

Having come so close to losing each other the pull to be near him, to get his hands on him and grip until they stopped shaking like that was inescapable. Undeniable. It was like being caught in the gravity well of an imploding star. All heat and the need to come closer, brush skin on skin and share breaths. They knew it was bad idea. Knew they needed clear heads to lead the Justice League and clear schedules to protect their separate cities.

When he’d pushed his forehead gently to Bruce’s, his best friend had clutched at his arms and pulled him closer, a broken “Kal.” the only sound in the little medical room he’d found Bruce belatedly catastrophizing in.

They should have forced themselves to separate and walked away because if he’d thought Bruce was on his mind too much before…

Batman sits strong and indomitable as always across from him, his sharp mind probably tearing data and observations from Green Lantern’s report to shreds and identifying a million problems the rest of them never saw coming. Clark will have to watch the security footage of this meeting later because god help him he can’t stop staring at Bruce’s mouth below the edge of cowl.

He knows what that mouth tastes like now. Know how it feels against his lips, his skin, his…

The quiet crack of displaced air startles him out of his memories. He barely resists a second flinch when another crack sounds and Flash is suddenly back in his customary seat beside him holding a sandwich he didn’t have 3 millisecond ago.

Taking a deep breath, Clark sternly reminds himself that he and Bruce had agreed it would only happen the one time exactly for this reason. He straightens up and determinedly tears his eyes from the man across from him and back to Hal.

The Lantern falters for a second under the weight Superman’s intense stare, clearly wondering what the hell he’d done to piss off the Man of Steel, before soldiering on.

He’s never in his life been more aware of a person he wasn’t even looking at. Bruce’s breathing was steady but a little shallower than normal, possibly from bruised ribs since he kept shifting subtly on the inhale to curl ever so slightly on his left side. Kevlar weave armor rasped near silently over the ridges and valleys of old scars he’d traced with hands and teeth and tongue.

Realizing he was subconsciously tapping his finger in time with Bruce’s heartbeat and that it was going a little fast Clark stilled the movement and snuck another quick glance to Bruce.

He was looking straight at him. Clark blinked hard, surprise getting the better of him. Without meaning to he peers straight past the cold lenses of the cowl and into piercing blue eyes dark and intent with desire. They were every bit as captivating 6 feet away as they had been 3 inches from his with Bruce moaning into his ear and his strong legs over Clark’s shoulders, flexible in a way a man with his bulk has no right being. For the sake of Clark’s sanity if for no other reason.

He takes a mental note to put some cash in Ma’s swear jar as a down payment. He has a feeling he’s gonna need it with how utterly fucked he is.

superbat, but they’re the next victim of the “surely this indescribable tension and attraction between us will be solved by just having sex once and realizing that we’re not all that compatible and being together isn’t actually something we want” trope and fucking doesn’t make it better, it makes it worse. so much worse.

[covenofagatha]

But you're my stepmom! (Part 11)

A/N: oh my god guys I finally wrote the next part! Please like it lol. I did see this as the end of the story but I purposely kept it open so if I ever did want to write more I could

Special shoutout to @lunargrrrl because without you saying that you loved this story I probably wouldn't have even touched it for at least another month (I love your writing so much I would do anything for you)

Word count:

Warnings: oral sex, scissoring, little bit of angst?

Taglist: 3440

@stayevildarling@i-just-cannot@hazey-g@buttercandy16@320viada@evilangels-stuff@rmaximoff@morganismspam23@aboutcustardcreams@sasheemo@rigglemethat@walkethisway@mommywandas@r-3-becca@harknessshi@ihaveawifebutwerenotmarriedyet@polaris-likethestar@ahintofchaos @dorabledewdroop @toomanylesbiancouples @accidentally-made-a-sideblog @chiar4anna @lonelyhalfwitch @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna (sorry if I forgot you or if I put you twice, I just copied and pasted the taglist from the part 10 and then whoever said they wanted to be on it recently)

“Hey!” You call after your step-mom as she struts through the parking lot back to her car, never breaking a stride, leaving you to chase after. “Agatha, wait!” 

She doesn’t even turn around, just unlocks the door and slides in, and she’s turning on the car when you finally make it into the passenger seat. 

You’re a little out of breath, so you take a moment to compose yourself. Agatha is staring forward, hands gripped on the steering wheel. “What was that?” You’re finally able to ask. 

Her knuckles turn white but she doesn’t answer. She shifts into drive and pulls forward and you can see how tightly her jaw is clenched. 

“Agatha, will you please talk to me?” You’re begging at this point, you don’t know what else to do, because something is wrong. That wasn’t her plan. 

Although, neither was fucking you in the bathroom. 

Your body betrays you and the concern you’re supposed to be feeling right now and heats up at the memory. You can still feel her thrusting inside you, your hips hitting the cold sink top, her hand wound in your hair making you watch yourself get absolutely railed by her. 

Stop. 

You shake your head to clear your thoughts, to get your mind out of the gutter, and Agatha finally pulls into the driveway of her house. 

It’s a good sign she didn’t take you back to your mom’s house, you suppose. She slams the car door after she gets out and storms into the house, you following hot on her heels. 

Agatha goes right to the kitchen and pours herself a glass of wine. She takes a long sip and a deep inhale, and pinches the bridge of her nose. When she opens her eyes, she finally looks at you like she’s seeing you for the first time. 

“I’m sorry I did that with you there,” she says and you almost laugh. Is that what she was upset about? 

You shake your head and steal the glass from her, taking a gulp and wincing at the bitter taste. Agatha raises an eyebrow at your blatant underage drinking in front of her, but says nothing. You swallow the wine hard and make a face. “Don’t be. It was kind of hot,” you admit, and she chuckles humorlessly. And then a thought dawns on you. “Wait, do you think he’s going to think something happened in the bathroom? Cause we both went, and then you came out and said you wanted a divorce.” 

There’s a glint in Agatha’s eye. “You really think he’s going to assume that I fucked my stepdaughter against the sink in a restaurant bathroom and then decided to break things off?” 

“Well…” You trail off, the leap to that conclusion seeming a bit implausible, especially for him. Your dad has a hard time focusing on things that aren’t himself. “Seems like we’re in the clear, at least.” 

Agatha snorts and drains the rest of the wine. There’s still something off about her, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. 

“Are you okay?” You ask, your voice softening. “I mean, are we okay? I know we said earlier that we didn’t know what this would mean for us –” 

She cuts you off by slamming the glass down on the countertop so hard you’re surprised it doesn’t break and then closes her eyes to take a deep breath. You freeze. “I’m sorry,” Agatha says eventually, but it’s unclear if she’s apologizing for the reaction or for something else. Maybe for the whole thing between you? 

There’s an uneasy feeling that starts to grow in your stomach. Is she going to break things off with you too? 

Not that there’s anything to break off, is there? It hasn’t even been that long since this thing started, but it’s been intense. More intense than anything you’ve ever felt. 

You know that it might kill you if she walks away now. 

“Do you not want this?” Your question is like a stab to your gut, you’ve never sounded smaller in your life, and your heart pounds heavily in your chest while you wait for an answer. You need to know.

Agatha’s hands fidget on the counter, it looks like she wants to pour herself another glass of wine, but she refrains. “We can talk about what happens next later,” she says levelly and walks away without another word. 

The pit in your stomach only grows. How did you go from being fucked by Agatha’s strap not even an hour ago to this cold distance between you? She had been so possessive, so inflamed by the thought that you would even entertain another woman. 

The sound of her footsteps recedes up the stairs. What does she expect you to do? She picked you up from your mom’s house, and you can’t exactly call her to come get you. 

So you go upstairs and find Agatha in her bedroom, swiping at her face while she’s throwing clothes into a suitcase. You momentarily lose your train of thought when she slides open a drawer and you see about a dozen sets of lacy lingerie. 

Agatha clears it out and dumps it into the suitcase. 

And then your brows furrow in confusion. “Wait, you’re moving out? Why not make my dad?” 

She looks at you like she didn’t even realize you had come in. “It’s easier this way. I’ll get an apartment closer to my job. Your dad can do whatever he wants with this place, he’s the one that wanted it in the first place.” 

“Oh. Okay,” you say, a little dumbfounded. Everything is happening so fast, completely spinning out of control, and you don’t know what to make of it. She spares you another glance before standing up and moving to clear out her nightstand. 

She takes out a vibrator and the rope she tied you up with just yesterday and places them on top of the lingerie. 

“At least we don’t have to worry about my dad catching us anymore, right?” You try to joke, but definitely not the time or place.

Agatha stiffens. “Honey,” she starts, and you know you’re not going to like this. 

“No,” you interrupt. “You’re getting divorced. We don’t have to sneak around anymore, or at least not as much. I like you, Agatha, and I don’t know how you feel about me–” 

“I’m leaving your father because of you,” she snaps and it’s like you’ve been slapped in the face. A thick silence settles over the two of you and you can see how hard she’s clenching her jaw. 

“What?” You whisper. “He’s having an affair, I feel like that should be your main priority.” But your heart is beating fast and you feel like you’re getting close to getting something real from her. 

She rolls her eyes and faces you directly. “Obviously. But I was thinking about it before. He’s not the only one who’s been having an affair here.” Was she leaving him because it’s the right thing to do? Or–

“So…” The pieces are scrambling to connect in your mind. “You want to be with me?” 

Agatha scoffs like the idea is ridiculous. “Be with the eighteen year old about to go off to college and find plenty of girls her own age to fuck?” 

She’s insecure? You can tell Agatha doesn’t completely understand how she’s feeling either, you can see the storm brewing in her eyes. She’s conflicted, torn between her own feelings. 

You walk over to where she’s standing and put your hands on her shoulders. Agatha doesn’t even meet your eyes. But then you slide your hands down her arms, onto her hips, and sink down to your knees. 

Now she looks at you and swallows hard. You can see the effect you’re having on her, her blown out pupils, and it only spurs you on. 

Your fingers fiddle with the zipper on your pants, carefully watching her face for any sign of hesitation. You drag the zipper down slowly and she helps you take off her pants and steps out of them like she’s in a trance. She’s still wearing the strap-on, it still smells like you – fuck, don’t get distracted. 

You loosen the harness and slide that down her legs too before leaning in and nipping at her thigh. 

“Let me show you how much I don’t want someone my own age?” You offer, gazing at her through your eyelashes. 

Her hand tangles in your hair and you let out a quiet gasp. “Go ahead, babygirl,” she says in a low voice, the voice that always gets you going, and pushes your head in-between her legs. 

It’s a bit of an awkward position, with her standing above you, stance slightly widened with you on the ground in front of her, but you make it work. 

You flatten your tongue and lick through her folds, collecting her wetness and moaning at the taste. It’s something you’ll never get tired of. You think you could easily spend hours eating Agatha out, and that’s something you’d like to try if she lets you. 

When your tongue flicks against her clit, her hand tightens in your hair and she lets out a moan and you do it again, desperate to please, desperate to hear more sounds fall from her lips. She lets out a little gasp when you suck on her clit, and you do it harder. Agatha’s hips jerk and she tugs on your hair, causing you to moan against her pussy. 

“God, honey, right there,” she says hoarsely and you double-down on your efforts, rubbing your tongue up and down over her clit while maintaining eye contact. Her groan is deep and she keeps brushing away the hair that falls over your face so she can see you. 

Your hands trace her thighs, the front and the back, and you dig your nails into the skin, leaving crescent indentations. The muscles in her legs tighten and she tries to roll her hips against your face but the position you two are in makes that challenging. 

So she steps back, your tongue still moving instinctively even though her pussy is gone, and you whine her name. 

She smirks and runs a hand through her hair, collecting herself for a second. “Don’t worry, baby. Mommy just wants to move to the bed.” 

Agatha walks to her bed, sits and leans back, spreading her legs for you. Your mouth practically waters at the sight of her dripping cunt that was on your face not a minute earlier and you move to stand up, but she stops you. 

“Stay on your knees,” she orders and you clench around nothing. The carpet is rough on your skin, but you can feel yourself getting wetter from her intense but appreciative gaze as you practically crawl across the room for her. 

You finally get to her and you push open her legs even more, first deciding to kiss up the length of each inner thigh. She shakes beneath you, especially when you get close to the heat between them, and she gasps when you nip at the pale skin. And then you dive back into her pussy, thrusting your tongue inside her, and she’s able to grind much more on your face without fear of falling over when she’s sitting like this. 

Your stepmom rides your face and all you have to do is open your mouth and stick out your tongue and she does the rest; she drags her pussy all over, small huffs falling out of her mouth at the exertion. Agatha takes what she needs from you until you can feel her clenching and her hips start to falter – she’s getting closer. 

You slide your hands around the backs of her thighs and pull her even closer to you so you can take over, sucking roughly on her clit and then curling your tongue inside her and repeating, all while Agatha moans uncontrollably above you, her hips jerking with each touch to her clit. 

“Fuck, babygirl, right there,” she chokes out, you can feel her throbbing, feel her walls fluttering around your tongue, and you don’t change a thing about what you’re doing, keeping the same pace and speed to gradually build up her orgasm. You can feel her body getting tighter and tenser and you know she’s about to cum. 

You give her one last filthy lick up the length of her pussy and then suck on her clit harshly, and she cums all over your face, getting it absolutely soaked. 

As if you’d ever complain about that. Agatha looks so hot coming apart for you like that, and you can’t believe she’d ever think you’d rather have a college hook-up than her. 

It takes her a moment to recover, but when she tilts your chin up, you beam at her, and you can still see the heat in her eyes. 

And even though she just fucked you hard in the bathroom, you need more too. You surge up off your knees and almost knock her backwards with the force and capture her lips in a bruising kiss, all teeth and tongue and lips. 

She groans at the taste of herself on you and you straddle her lap, pushing a thigh between hers so you’re both able to grind on each other while you kiss. Her hands hike up the dress you’re still wearing so she can cup your ass and guide you on her leg, pushing you down harder against her, and you have to break away from her mouth to moan. Your underwear is absolutely soaked and clinging to you, almost getting uncomfortable. 

Your fingers fumble with buttons on her silky button-down and eventually you get so exasperated that you just rip it, buttons flying everywhere around the room. Agatha chuckles in amusement and tugs on your underwear, and you reluctantly get off her for a second to take it off. 

But then you climb back on her, your lips finding hers again, and this time when her hands wrap around your waist to pull you closer, she does fall back with how hard you’re grinding and kissing. 

You don’t care. Instead, you get an idea. You’ve never tried it before, but it seems like this would be the perfect time to. 

Sitting back up, you ignore Agatha’s confused look and chew on your lip. She lets you angle one of her legs up and over your hip, while you put your other leg over hers. When your eyes flick back up to Agatha’s, you can see recognition on her face and she looks positively excited. 

And then with a deep breath, you lower yourself down and a gasp escapes your mouth when your cunt touches hers. 

“Fuck, honey,” Agatha says and you have to pause before you become overwhelmed with pleasure. 

You slowly roll your hips and you both moan. “Mommy,” you whimper. “Feels so good.” 

Her hands settle on your waist while you lean forward, bracketing her head with your arms, and she helps you move against her, your wetness mixing with hers and making it easy to slide against each other. 

“Fuck, baby, you have no idea how hot you are,” Agatha murmurs, maybe more to herself than to you, but there’s no denying how much effect those words have on you. Your clit pulses and you keen, your movements becoming sloppy, but Agatha’s hips rise to meet yours and there’s an absolute mess between the two of you in no time. 

Your head drops down so you can pepper kisses against her chest and sternum, mouthing at her breasts through her lacy, gray bra. Agatha jerks beneath you, her clit stroking against yours and you pant hotly against her skin. 

“Mommy,” you whisper, your head starting to spin with how good it feels. Her wetness, being able to feel all of her so intimately, her ragged breathing, the slight sheen of sweat on her chest. You drag your tongue over the skin at her bra line and her back arches off the bed.

Your limbs are entangled and the movements become short ruts against each other, hands flying from cheeks to hips to breasts to thighs and you can feel the tension building in your stomach. Agatha is getting closer, too, she’s breathing into your open mouth and the only sounds in the room are the two of you moaning and the slickness of your wetness. 

“Fuck, right there,” Agatha says tightly, your clit finding hers, and the two of you grind just like that, the stimulation almost too good. “God, sweetheart, you feel so good.” 

Your hips stammer and she pulls you in for a kiss, strokes her tongue into your mouth, and you cum all over her pussy, the dam inside you exploding. Pleasure races through your veins and you think your mind goes blank for a second, absolutely no thoughts except for Agatha. 

She follows shortly after, her body twitching under yours and you can feel her orgasm as she rides it out against you. It’s the hottest thing you’ve ever felt, and the embers of the heat inside your stomach flicker. 

You stay on top of her for a minute or two, just soaking in the feeling of her against you like that. 

And then Agatha stiffens. “I don’t know if your dad is coming home tonight, but we should probably get cleaned up.” You groan at her mentioning your dad right now, right after possibly the best sex you’ve had in your life, but she has a point. 

You get off her and find your underwear, sliding it back on and fixing your appearance in the mirror. Agatha gives you a wolfish grin and a low whistle at your reflection and you roll your eyes playfully. 

She pulls on an entirely new outfit, her pants strewn on the floor somewhere and her shirt completely ripped open, and then she washes off the strap in the sink and puts that in her suitcase, too. 

It’s as you’re following her downstairs, carrying the other suitcase she quickly packed in your hands, when your dad opens the front door, looking flustered. 

“Agatha, please, talk to me,” he begs when he sees the two of you, eyes darting in confusion between you, probably wondering what you’re doing. Your stepmom walks right past him, and you awkwardly follow. “Sweet pea,” he says, this time referring to you. “What is going on?” 

“I know you’ve been cheating,” Agatha says, pausing when she gets to the door to whirl back around to face him. He looks like he just got punched in the stomach and you almost laugh. “I’m getting a hotel tonight, and then I’ll look for an apartment. You can have everything in this house. I’ll be talking to my lawyer tomorrow.” 

It’s the quickest settlement you’ve ever seen. When your parents got divorced, they had gone back and forth for months, bickering over the smallest things like blankets and game boards. You couldn’t be more relieved that Agatha just wants a clean break and no hassle. 

She opens the door and walks out of it, you only two steps behind, and you close it after you’re both outside, ignoring your dad’s calls for you to come back. 

You both wordlessly walk to her car and she opens the trunk to put her suitcases in. She didn’t pack all of her stuff, she will still need to come back and get the rest of her clothes and whatnot, but it’s a good start. You’re more than willing to come back by yourself and get the rest of her belongings, too. 

Agatha gets into the driver’s seat and you slide into the passenger’s. It doesn’t seem to be a question that you’re coming with her. 

“I know you don’t really want to talk about what happens next for us,” you say quietly, needing to get some things off your chest. “We don’t have to put a label on it or anything. But just know that I’m not going to do what he did, or throw you away like that. I really like you, Agatha. And if it’s just like this for however long this lasts, I’m okay with that. I just want you.” 

Her eyes stay on the road and her lips purse, but she doesn’t say anything. Maybe she won’t. 

But then her hand slips down across the center console and interlocks her fingers with yours and she squeezes. You can see the hint of a smile ghosting her face. 

You squeeze back. That’s all the answer you need. 

[peachii-nitenite]

Much Needed Support (sfw-suggestive content) Part 1

JayVik x Reader Ramble

Idea: You’ve been overworking. Your aches and pains worsen by the day, and you can’t seem to tough it out like you used to… there’s only two people you really trust to help. 4.8k wordcount

Content: reader with feminine pronouns, sexual tension, fluff, partial nudity, boys getting shy about said nudity, mutual pining, self-doubt, idiots in love, getting sick, friends to lovers, discussions on medical neglect, mentions of chronic pain, descriptions of chronic pain (slightly implied hand kink???)

Very self indulgent selfiship coded x reader with a reader with scoliosis and joint issues to help me deal with feelings about own deterioration and struggles with findin a doc who’ll listen lol 🥲

Side note- this ended up much longer than I originally planned 😅 so this might end up being like 3 parts with MAYBE some spice ^v^

-You are a student at the academy in the arts and humanities department, a year below Jayce and Viktor, and you have worked your ass off to get here.

-You and Viktor have always gotten along; you were both from Zaun, both scholarship students, and both passionate about your work.

-Viktor introduced you to Jayce shortly after they partnered up, and the three of you become nearly inseparable.

-despite not even sharing a major, you found yourself in the lab during most of your free time, bantering and tossing ideas around, or sometimes quietly working on your own projects.

-for as long as Viktor’s known you, you’ve been energetic and passionate, but recently you’ve been acting a bit differently. Quieter, more despondent. You visited less frequently, and you seemed constantly exhausted.

-the change was gradual, how you seemed a bit more sluggish, had been walking a bit more slowly, movements a bit more calculated. And then one day, you tripped on the stairs while heading to the lab, a sharp pain having shot through your knee.

-you shrugged it off, insisting that you were fine and that it was just a bit slippery, but both of them could tell something was up.

-Jayce was actually the first to notice: how you constantly adjusted your gait, how you would wince at times when standing up, how you consistently had to correct your posture. Something was causing you pain, and you were trying to hide it.

-you were stubborn, and fiercely independent, and as such they were deterred from prying too much

-Viktor was the one who pointed out another clue: your clothes were always long and baggy, as if you were trying to hide something bulky beneath it. He could have even sworn seeing you looking a bit longer than usual at his leg brace one morning.

-in spite of how stubborn you were, they still cherished you greatly. which meant they could not allow you to go on like that,

-and all while they were brainstorming how to breach the topic, you were getting worse.

-the pain made it hard to sleep, the dull aching of the muscles around your spine needling you awake any time you began to drift off. You could feel you knees grinding and creaking with every step up the stairs. Your homemade remedies and exercises could only do so much to help, and you can only take so many pain pills a day.

-you were sick of being dismissed by upper city doctors, who claimed you were “too young” to have such issues, or chalked it up to stress or poor exercise. You had been dealing with these things since you were a child. But you were always told when you grew up, you would get better; stronger even. Now in your twenties, you look back bitterly, having only gotten weaker.

-you had a pair of simple, worn out compression braces for your knees. It had been patched and reinforced so many times that they were god awful to look at, not to mention the embarrassment you felt simply having to keep using them after all this time. They were easily covered up by the long skirts and baggy pants you usually wore.

-aside from that, you had an old, ill fitting corset that you used to attempt some semblance of support for your back. But it was all becoming too much. You had to get help, and soon, before it got even worse.

-as much as you didn't want to burden them, you had no other ideas left.

-right when you came to visit, both of them were already there, discussing the situation.

-perhaps it was the fatigue that made you finally cave, or maybe it was the longing to feel less alone in your pain. Regardless, you found yourself shuffling into the lab with all the energy of a cadaver.

—

“Is it really our place to ask though? If she’s being secretive, maybe there’s a deeper reason…” Jayce was pacing, tossing ideas back and forth in his head. “I mean, isn’t it a bit rude to just…ask out of the blue?” He sighs. “You may have a point, but we know her, Jayce” Viktor rose from his seat, interrupting the path of his partner’s pacing to place a reassuring hand on his arm.

“I…I know, I just-“

He was cut of by the sound of the door creaking open. Speak of the devil.

You looked tired, dark circles much more prominent than usual, and there seemed to be a touch of…anxiety?

“…hey guys. Been a minute.” You smiled weakly as you walked toward them. They looked between each other, as if trying to will the other to say something first. But before either of them could, you spoke up.

“I….you know I hate to ask but… I need your help”

“Of course! You know we’d do anything to help you out, what’s wrong?” Jayce pipes up, smoothly steering you toward a chair. Viktor quietly observes how you slump in relief, despite your posture remaining oddly stiff.

“I…well, uh….” You hang your head and sigh, as you struggle to get the words out “…do you know any good doctors? Preferably unbiased ones?” You muster a dry chuckle. They both furrow their brows in concern. “Of course, but what seems to be the issue?” Viktor chimes in, coming over to stand closer to you. You sigh, eyes once again lingering on his brace and his cane. “It…well it may just be easier to show you.”

You adjust yourself in the chair, and begin pulling up the hem of your long skirt. The two men freeze- you can tell they’re caught off guard by their faces as you do, and you can’t help but laugh a little. You bunch it up in your lap and their eyes land on your patchwork braces. Viktor’s eyes soften sympathetically, and you look away.

“…how long?” He steps closer to get a better look, and the proximity flusters you a bit. Jayce, follows suit, kneeling in front of you. You can them actively going into scientist mode, as you affectionately called it; eyes scanning and assessing your handiwork- or rather, the *failure*of your handiwork. You hesitate with your answer for a moment, eyes flitting between your two friends. There was nothing but sincere concern in their eyes, and you almost felt a bit guilty for not talking to them sooner.

“…not really sure, probably since I was a kid…but it’s only been getting worse. The damn things barely seem to work these days” you grumble, shifting your weight in discomfort. “And I…well I’d show you my back brace too but uh…that can probably wait” you trailed off, face getting warm at the mere thought of having to take your shirt off in front to the two men. You almost swore you saw a tinge of pink to Viktor’s ears as he cleared his throat, but perhaps it was just the light.

“Well, we’re not doctors….but if you don’t mind, would you let us have a closer look?” Jayce asks earnestly as he looks up at you, and you nod. He quickly clears a spot for you on the work table, and gestures for you to hop up. You hesitate for a moment, wearily eyeing the two of them before situating yourself on the table.

If there’s one thing to be said about those two, it’s that they’re efficient. After having you remove your old braces, they immediately set to work sketching, brainstorming, and most importantly- assessing your condition. They ask you more about your condition: is the pain sharp or dull? What tasks or activities aggravate it? How long has it been worsening? Do you take any medications for the pain? Do you have a diagnosis?

Much to your embarrassment the answers were difficult to muster. Most doctors topside would scoff, say you looked healthy enough and that you were too young for such issues, and send you on your way without so much as an exam. “Perhaps you aren’t active enough” or “it’s likely just stress” were the most common responses. This much attention being paid toward you was…odd almost. Refreshing, comforting even, but odd nonetheless.

“Y'know, for a while I was convinced I was just being dramatic… that’s what my last doctor said anyways. So it’s nice to be taken seriously for once!” You beamed as Viktor took notes. At those words, however, his pencil abruptly stopped. Jayce also looked up from the diagram he was sketching with a furrowed brow.

“I’m sorry…your doctor said what?” Viktor inquired, his tone tight and clipped. It quickly dawned on you that you had never seen him look so angry before, let alone on your behalf. It almost made you want to shrink away from that piercing gaze. Instead, you blinked, slowly repeating yourself before elaborating.

“Uh…yeah. My doctor wouldn’t give me a diagnosis or refer me elsewhere, and instead just recommended more exercise…” you scoff mirthlessly at the memory, how you felt so foolish and alone in that office under the doctor’s condescending gaze.

“…needless to say, I don’t see him anymore, aha…ha” you try to fill the silence with an awkward laugh, but neither of them laugh with you.

“And this… happens often? You’re dismissed like that?” Jayce asks, eyes fixed on your legs. It was strange for you to see the two of them so tense, especially on your behalf. You nodded, with a dejected grimace.

“…they usually think someone like me is after painkillers, so I get it- I really do. And it’s true that it’s odd for someone my age to be…well, like this-“ you gesture vaguely to yourself and to your discarded braces with a bitter expression.

“But… I just can’t tough it out like I used to. Even if I am being dramatic” you sigh, the mere act of explaining your situation only furthering your fatigue. “I…I’m sorry, didn’t mean to upset you with my sob story-“

“Don’t apologize.” Viktor cuts you off, his voice gentle, but firm. “Never apologize for this. It was wrong of them to neglect you.” He sets down his notepad next to you on the table, eyeing your old braces with disdain. “I know all too well what it is like. So do not apologize for seeking a solution to your pain.” His tone went soft, gentler than you’d ever heard him. There was none of the usual sass or clinical edge to his words, and in turn it made you feel softer as well. It reminded you why you had come for their help in the first place.

These were your friends- and they would do anything to help you.

“Vik is right. We’re not mad at you, we’re mad at those idiot doctors for not doing their jobs!” Jayce chimes in. It makes you smile, despite the odd urge to cry. Instead of risking tears by attempting to respond, you simply nodded once more. “Once we’re done in here I’ll get you the contact info for my doctor. She’s good at what she does, and Viktor’s been to her a few times. Sounds good?”

You smile, your unease slowly ebbing away

“Yeah, sounds like a plan!”

“So, let’s get to work shall we?”

—

-The two men quickly resumed their work with a new fervor. A prototype sketch was done within the hour, and all that was left before the first draft could be made was the measurements. You knew this part might be a tad awkward. What you did not know, is how unbothered the two of them were when it came to personal space while they were in “work mode”.

-You sat on the table, skirt hiked up to your mid thighs as the two of them sat before you with a measuring tape and a pad of paper, delicately handling each leg as they measured. And soon enough , they began to bicker over the design.

-and you quickly learned that your friends were very hands on with their brainstorming.

“It does not need to be that long, her condition is much different than mine, so the brace must be different as well!” Long fingers slid up your calf, resting just under your knee, gently holding it higher as if to show Jayce his error. “The brace should end here, not there” he asserted, drawing invisible lines over your shin and a few inches above your knee. It took a lot of willpower not to shudder at the sensation. “Any longer and it would be bulky and cumbersome, which is what we are seeking to avoid”

Viktor’s hands were cold, and rougher than you expected, no doubt from years of tinkering and inventing. You were not going to lie to yourself and say you hadn’t stared at them before, as he wrote or worked on prototypes. You also couldn’t say you hadn’t thought about them more…intimately either. How they would feel on your bare skin. But as he drew his invisible schematic on your leg, all your curiosities were answered as you let out a small gasp.

The feeling was nice. A little too nice.

He stopped instantly, looking up with worry.

“I am sorry, did I hurt you? I will be gentler…”

“Ah! N-no I’m fine! Your…uh…your hands are just a bit cold…” you manage to stammer out. There was no way in hell you could tell him the real reason.

“Apologies… I didn’t think about that…” he sheepishly put your leg back down and returned to his notes. Once you were free from the tantalizing sensation of his fingers tracing your skin, you were quickly shackled once more by the feeling of Jayce’s hand cupping your other leg.

“I get that it’s different V, but I’m trying to be practical for day to day wear. If it’s too short, it’ll keep sliding out of place throughout the day! It should start here and end here. So that it’s less likely to ride up or down during the course of the day.”

You could barely process what he was saying, as you were too fixated on the fact that his hand; his very warm hand that was nearly large enough to wrap around your calf, was now resting dangerously high on your leg, just below where you had gathered your skirt into your lap. Any higher and he’d be properly groping your thigh.

Jayce’s hands were rough as well, with quite a few prominent calluses and healed scrapes. The sensation of his palm on the sensitive skin of your thigh sent electricity through your nerves-tingly and warm.

And again. You’d be a liar if you claimed you’d never thought about it. But in a situation like this, sleep deprived and fatigued as you were, it was much more difficult to ignore that fact. The reality of his hands on you made your head spin.

Remain calm. Remain professional.

These are your friends. They are just trying to help.

Damn them for being so pretty

“Well, what do you think?”

“Yes, which do you like better?”

The questions snapped you out of your internal crisis.

“Huh? Oh, right! Uh….” It was difficult to form an answer with the both of them looking up at you so expectantly.

“Is…is there no middle ground? Maybe a m-mix of both?” You offer feebly. They look between each other competitively, before looking once more at their individual notes, and then back to you.

“I…suppose it could be done.” Was all Viktor was able to concede. Knowing how particular he could be, it was the best Jayce was going to get.

“Sorry if we got carried away…you know how we get” Jayce chuckled. “But now that that is out of the way, we can take a look at your back brace now.” He began absentmindedly caressing your leg with his thumb, a reassuring gesture no doubt. Viktor was doing something similar, his hand back under the crook of your knee. But the sensation, and the proximity made you tense up as you averted your gaze.

For a split second, confusion crossed his face-before he realized what he was doing. Jayce abruptly stood up, pulling his hand away. Now it was his turn to chuckle awkwardly, gesturing to Viktor to release your other leg as well. Viktor blinked, looking between you and Jayce, before looking down at the somewhat intimate position the two of you were currently in. He quickly followed suit, scooting his chair back and busying his hands with more notetaking, his ears definitely pink this time.

-you decided to promptly disregard their reactions. You were friends after all! Surely there was nothing else going on right? Anyone would get a little flustered in that kind of position. Your friends didn’t see you like that…right?

-besides, you could’ve sworn they had something going on with each other anyways…

-to remain productive (and totally not because you couldn’t look them in the eye) you got off of the table and promptly told them to turn around so you could get your sweater off

-they quickly complied, and the room was quiet aside from the rustling of clothes.

-not having a proper back brace, you had modified an old underbust corset with additional boning. But now you were starting to outgrow it once again, and there’s only so many times you could take it out before needing to find a new one.

-all you really wore beneath it was a thin slip so that the corset wouldn’t chafe your skin, but it was so flimsy you might as well have just been topless

And there you stood, hands on the table, under the white light of the overhead lamp. You shuddered as the cold air of the lab set in, and your own overthinking sent goosebumps over your exposed skin.

be normal. this is normal.

"Alright, now hurry up I'm getting cold-" you hiss, breaking the silence. You do not turn around, but you can feel their gaze on you; a moment of hesitation before you hear them approach. They are assessing you, yes, but there was something else beneath that as the two scientists raked their eyes over you: something you couldn’t quite place.

Viktor breaks the silence first, clearing his throat. Your eyes are still fixed on the table, the sudden sound causing you to flinch ever so slightly. You hope neither of them noticed. “Well…the design could definitely be worse, I can see where you tried to improve upon it…”

there was a but coming at the end of that sentence. You could feel it.

“But, In the long run it may end up doing more harm than good, considering the state of the garment itself…” he gently taps the row of tattered lacing running down the back. You nod, willing your voice not to crack. “So- what should we do? It’s all I can really afford at the moment…”

“Don’t worry about that- we’re more worried about making sure whatever we come up with is comfortable” Jayce chimes in, retrieving his measuring tape and notepad once more.

“Now, I need you to stand with your back as straight as possible for a moment, can you do that?” You nod, and you can feel him directly behind you as you straighten up. It’s uncomfortable, and you hear a few soft, telltale cracks as you do it. You groan quietly, and you feel him still for a moment.

“…don’t worry about it, just do what you gotta do.” You mumble, shifting your weight between your feet.

“Ah-uh- right! Right…” he laughs it off as he proceeds with his measurements and notes, quick, methodical, and very gentle. Every so often, skin would brush skin, his warm touch would linger, and you became increasingly aware of just how warm he was behind you: like a human space heater. It would be so easy in your exhausted state to simply lean back and melt into his chest, to bask in the warmth amidst the cold air of the lab and fall blissfully asleep.

Instead, with every ounce of composure you had, you avoided dozing off or leaning back. You could feel your eyes getting heavier before the deep timbre of Jayce’s voice brought you back.

“Alright, that’s done. You can rest now.”

You immediately slouch with a sluggish sigh, and you can nearly hear the furrowing of brows and the concerned expressions occurring behind you.

“We can stop if you are too fatigued, we should have enough to get started…” Viktor offered up, now nearly as close as Jayce was. You shook your head, taking a deep breath.

“No, no, I’m fine! It’s better to get this all over with now and save you both the trouble! So what next, huh?” You dredge up any remaining scraps of what could be perceived as enthusiasm as you turn your head to smile at Viktor.

The prospect of doing this again on a different day was already increasing your heartrate to an uncomfortable degree. Believe it or not; being examined by your two incredibly handsome scientist friends while half naked was something very anxiety inducing . Especially when you’ve been ignoring your growing feelings for said aforementioned handsome scientist friends. You felt awful for these thoughts and feelings, of course you did. So what better way to deal with this dilemma than to get it over with as quickly as possible. Right?

Wrong.

“Well, the last thing we really need is uh… well.” Jayce cleared his throat, carefully choosing his next words. “We’d want to get a look at your spine without your brace on, and take a few final measurements…”

Wrong. Dead wrong.

“… you need me to take it off?” You forced a nonchalant tone, unsure if it was convincing.

“Right. The measurements with it on will be slightly skewed since it is ill fitting in the first place…” Viktor added, a twinge of anxiety to his explanation. “But of course, only if you are comfortable doing so!” He quickly added. You began to spiral

Would it be weird to say yes? It would be more awkward if I refuse right? We’re all friends, this is fine! This is in a completely clinical context as well, so-

“Sure. No worries, uh-just… gimme a sec?” You blurted out before overthinking further, your hands leaving the table to fumble with the front closure of the corset. Your friends immediately averted their gaze, but did not completely turn around. Rather than dwelling on it, you focused on trying to get the busks open, before realizing you had laced it a bit tighter than usual that morning, thus making it a bit more difficult to get out of. You would need help. Great. You sigh.

“Uh… could one of you unlace me? It’s harder to get out of like this….”

The quiet that follows makes you cringe, and sets you a bit on edge, before Viktor pipes up behind you.

“Y-yes just a second”

You soon feel his cool hands against your back, nimble fingers finding the messy knot that kept your laces tight and marking short work of it. All three of you were quiet; no banter, no chatting, no bickering. Just the soft sound of laces being pulled through worn down grommets. Once it was loosened, you let out a breath it felt like you had been holding for a lifetime, slouching a bit as your back screamed at you.

Viktor leaned next to you, softly murmuring as he reassuringly placed a hand on your back. “Is that better?” His voice was low, soft, and held a bit of…restraint? You hoped the heat rising to your face wasn’t too noticeable, as the innocent action sent forth a troubling warmth in your gut. Not unpleasant, far from it. But troubling, given the circumstance.

“Mhm… y-yeah that’s better. Thank you” you murmured back, forcing your attention towards getting your corset off. The busks unhooked with ease as you shrugged off the patchwork garment, as well as your undershirt. As it fell to the floor, you instinctively moved to stretch, now free from the compression of your brace. A series of loud pops and cracks ring out into the lab as you did so, causing you to sigh in a unique mixture of relief and ache that you had grown accustomed to.

Once you had finished, you realized two things:

One: you were now completely topless in front of your two best friends

Two: neither of them had looked away this time.

Which could totally mean nothing

Upon this realization you kept your eyes forward, standing up as straight as you could once more, finding balance on the table.

“…well? go on, g-go ahead and look” you commanded weakly. Swallowing the anticipation that came with not being able to see them. Whose hands would you feel now? Whose breath would tickle your ear? You blamed your lack of sleep for how much your mind was wandering.

You felt a warm finger trace slowly down your spine, down from the nape of your neck, past your shoulder blades, before stopping and slowing down even further, following the unnatural curve that ended toward the middle of your back. It was Jayce, you realized. And a part of you was flustered even further now knowing you could tell it was him by just the feeling of his hands.

There was low murmuring, the sound of pencil on paper, and then Viktor’s hand, tracing from the bottom of your spine through your skirt, to the middle of you back before also stopping.

“…you’re too quiet. It’s unsettling” you manage to quip, starting to feel exposed under the bright light.

“…it’s your spine. You should’ve been fitted with a brace ages ago” Viktor finishes tracing his line up your back “a proper one, no offense to your handiwork of course.” He clarified.

“That bad huh?” You huff, wincing at the implication. You had known there was an issue for years now. But all you could do was your best in terms of treatment and preventative care. Every time it had crossed your mind to get checked out, you heard the condescending doctor’s voice echoing inside your skull: “you’re being dramatic.”

“Luckily, It seems manageable with a proper brace, and you already stretch and exercise, yes?” Viktor inquired behind you, his hand now resting on your shoulder. You hummed affirmatively, as you let yourself slouch once more. You knew it only contributed to your poor posture, but the temporary relief was worth it momentarily. The urge to fall asleep right then and there was overwhelming, even despite the cold. You could feel both of them shuffle back a bit as you did.

“Sorry, sorry! Did we take too long? Are you cold?” Jayce apologizes as he tries to get you warm again, picking up your sweater and getting it right-sides-out again. You let out a sleepy mumble as you reach back for it, turning toward him with your hand out.

Turning toward him.

After a few seconds of facing them with your hand out, and being confused as to why they were just standing there, avoiding your gaze, cheeks getting redder by the second; it hit you.

“Oh-oh shit! sorry, sorry, my bad-” you snatch up your sweater and quickly yank it on and you apologize profusely and so quickly that the words were barely recognizable.

Well, you were wide awake now.

You start rambling, trying to cram how you were cold and sleep deprived and achy all into the world’s fastest sentence as you got yourself together, gathering up your discarded braces. The only thing stopping you from bolting out of the door was the grinding of your now fully unsupported knees. You winced as you pitifully shuffled back to your chair, moving to put the braces back on.

The air was thick with…something.

It wasn’t quite tension, and although being a bit awkward it wasn’t quite full on embarrassment either. But it was something, and it was intense.

“….I’ll get going then…“ you murmur, standing on unsteady legs. Except now you weren’t sure if you were unsteady because of the pain, or because of the dizzying memory of their hands on your skin.

For a moment, your fatigue catches up to you; your legs feel like static and your vision blurs around the edges. Before you even have the chance to stumble, Jayce’s arms are around you.

“Easy there! Just give us a second, we’ll get you back to your dorm okay?”

“But-“ you were cut off by the sound of Viktor shushing you and guiding you over to a couch in the corner of the lab. The two men eyed you with a seriousness that felt strange in comparison to your usual lighthearted interactions. But it was oddly comforting now, as you let yourself sink into the plush sofa

“Rest for a while, you don’t have any more classes today, right?” It was less of a question and more of a reminder, as he retrieved a blanket to drape over you. You really had no say in the matter, and the couch was so comfortable….

You felt relieved, cared for, and so so very sleepy...

So you fell asleep.

Once you were certifiably slumbering, your two impromptu caregivers let out shuddering breaths they hadn't realized they were holding, exchanging knowing glances.

Little did you know, they had been struggling just as much as you, if not more.

"....Let's get back to work." Viktor mumbled, forcing his eyes away from your relaxed form on the couch. He gripped his cane tightly as he turned away, retrieving his notes. Upon noticing Jayce hadn't moved yet, he huffed at having to repeat himself.

"Jayce."

"Right! sorry..." Jayce nodded, slowly backtracking to the main worktable. Couldn't help the deja vu that hit him as he remembered your topless form leaning against it, illuminated under the overhead light. He groaned and shook his head.

"Heaven knows we need the distraction."

--------

tadaaa*~~~ took me long enough! p2 will be up relatively soon, i just needed to stop nitpicking.

part two will be primarily from the boys' POV!

[lostinlovingrevery]

Just a thought and no offense but I think Logan just wants to be in love and feel loved in return.

(This isnt proofread and came out as rambling so have fun trying to read it and decipher it! 😅)

So WE ALL know that Logan can be flirty, and that he may have had a period where he was a bit of a manwhore (*cough* 70s Logan *cough*)

I feel like that period though, and any other flings, one night stands, etc whatever was less out of lust and more of a desperation to feel SOME kind of human connection bc the mans so lonely and has been treated like a soldier, a weapon for so long that hes desperate for human connection, even if it makes him end up feeling depraved afterwards. Post-nut clarity wakes him up next to some girl he met at a bar, and guilt sinks its teeth into him because he doesnt even know her name, much less actually LIKE her. The man was born in the 1800s, he may have grown with time but you cannot tell me theres not some inkling of being a gentleman- and wanting to find someone you truly love, hidden in there somewhere. I think overtime he may fall into this routine, believing he needed to be a walking sex magnet, gruff, cocky, whatever have you because hes convinced its the only way he can have a connection with someone, even if its for a few passionate moments under bedsheets, and an awkward "that was nice. Bye"

It only fuels his self hatred, convincing him that he really his just an animal, looking to get his sick desires out, eat, fuck, sleep, survive.

When we see him in the X movies, as a cage fighter he is brutal and rough and he doesnt seem to have a caring bone in his body yet he still manages to find himself caring about this young girl who stowawayed in his trailer, and does help her, even if he acts like this version of logan he created. Someone who doesnt care. But he cares. A lot.

Its not until he meets YOU, that he starts to wonder if he got it all wrong. Kind, beautiful, smart YOU.

I fully believe that logan just wants a partner. One night stands, flings, what have you, were just him lying to himself, desperate to feel something other than hate. After he lost his memories, and he began just wandering, the concept of love was lost on him. And lust wasnt there anymore either. He was approached by women, perfectly fine, pretty women, all the time during his time cage fighting, bars, etc. He turned them all away- completely opposite of logan 30-40 years ago (my timing probs not right on xmen lol) who was convinced the only way he was living was if he had ass next to him every night he went to sleep because he was lonely. This version of logan, lost, angry, wanted nothing to do with people. Some of it the repressed feelings coming out from his past that he doesnt even remember. He was convinced then that he had to be alone. Becoming a lone wolf that bared his teeth at anyone who tried to pet it. Secretly though, deep down although he wouldnt admit it, there was that deep desire, that he always felt in his 200 years, that he just wanted to find his mate. He'd call soulmates bullshit if you asked him, but the moment he meets you, hed know that it was real, and that maybe god cursed (gifted) him the ability of healing and practical immortality just so he could find you. And hed do it over and over again, the pain and suffering and loneliness, if it meant you would be the endgoal.

Logan is a pack animal. He needed a family, to protect, and cherish. When he meets and ends up at the x-men, his demeanor and attitude changes quickly to something similar to a dog that snaps at you when you pet it only for it to whine and whimper "im sorry, please dont hate me, i just dont know how to accept love.". Hes still wary, because hed never KNOWN a family before. Put aside his memory loss, the closest things he had to a family was a creep of a brother, and a woman who said she loved him under false pretenses (i still dont like you kayla even if you say it was real). He barely knew his parents, and even then that was a lie because his father wasnt even his biological father. Yeah, Logans life was pretty damn lonely, so its no wonder the man is cautious of anybody and anything.

The moment you come into his life though, that bitterness, anger, and meaningless flirting goes right out the window. Hes serious about you. Hes usually cautious, nervous around people but he meets you and its almost like he threw all those imaginary rules he has for himself out of the window.

Look at how he was with Jean in the movies. He barely knew the woman, they barely shared ANY lines in the movie yet he was almost completely devoted (dont get me started on that storyline). Trust didnt come easy to the wolverine. And Kayla- their relationship just shows how much he wants love and to be loved. I never seen origins but a lot of gifsets and read the synopsis of the plot, but i think he had a feeling with Kayla he couldnt trust (remember how he says hell never go against his gut again?) But he so badly just wanted that connection he ignored all the warning signs and did everything to build a life with this woman who not only tricked him, but put him through unimaginable pain both physically and mentally. (Look I REALLY dont like kayla but i do feel bad for her because stryker did have her sister captive). I know stryker is the evil mastermind here, but god imagine trying to find love with someone, only for it all to be a farce, even if they claimed they did love you the entire time- the intentions from the very beginning was far from love.

Oh but when he is in love with you. From the moment he met you, it wasnt love at first sight exactly, more like a feeling that you were it. Hes all about you. He sticks around, under the pretense that he just needed to make some money first, doing some missions for charles, keep an eye on rogue. He cant admit its because he wants to stay close to you. Hes like a feral cat taking shelter in your shed. Stays away at first, cautious of your spspspsp, but curious nonetheless. Completely ignores the first bowl of food you put down for it- or so you thought because when you came back it was completely devoured. It takes weeks of food and spspsps before it finally warms up to you, but after that first contact with your hand and its head- good luck ever getting rid of it. Not that youd want to 😊

Logan becomes a shadow to you, once you become something akin to friends. (Its really more than that but no ones addressed it). He teases you and flirts with you, and its something you think he does with everyone, until Ororo tells you that he only does it to you. Sometimes he just sits in your company, other times hes curious about what youre working on, not wanting to start the convo, but does things like leering over your shoulder (which he may or may not be doing just to he close to you and get a good whiff of the smell of your hair). He stresses when you go on missions without him. He slowly opens up about his past to you when he begins to get his memories back. Trusting only you (and maybe charles) with the truth ablut the man he used to be, and still is.

When your feelings finally do come out in the open though, however it happens, that first kiss, the first time you make love, etc etc. Logans a different man. I mean, hes still that cocky, grumpy person we all know and love. But he carried himself differently. Hes confident and wiser, hes comfortable, and hes happy. He found a home, his pack. And maybe after countless conversations about his past, the things hes done, and the comforting words and understandings you give him, he starts to learn that he isnt so bad, because if you love him, YOU, the most wonderful person hes ever known in 200 years, love him despite all of his violence and hatred and slight whoreish tendecies back in the 70s...then he must be alright.

He doesnt need to worry about his past anymore, when hes got you, right there with him, promising a loving future together.

[zolo-san]

I know I just rambled in the tag, but if you took the time to read all that, might I direct you to this post & my ramblings there as well~

Something about Zoro being one of the most misunderstood and mischaracterized characters in One Piece is funny (not haha funny, funny sad) to me because?? That’s literally how his introduction starts?? With people misunderstanding him and thinking he’s some big, monstrous demon who kills with cause and cannot be trusted or tamed.

Meanwhile the actual Zoro is a driven guy who is often both literally and figuratively directionless in life and found his goals in life through good people (first Kuina and then Luffy). He's tied up in the Marine base not due to those actual crimes he commuted (well not inherently anyway) but because he ‘disrespected’ a Captain's son and stood up for a little girl. He accepts the challenge they present to him and because Zoro himself is a guy that puts his money where his mouth is he assumes the Marines will uphold their end of the deal and let him go (note the actual shock when Koby tells him the truth)

He joins Luffy's crew but also outright says he’s not gonna let his goal take second place to Luffy or anyone else's for that matter, he bears the weight of two people's dreams, his heart isn’t going to be swayed by some pirate.

Speaking of Kuina, her impact and influence on Zoro's life isn’t talked about enough for my liking. She was Zoro's first friend, his first rival, his first goal. He looked up to her so much and his reaction to her passing cracks my heart in half every time because you can seem him just..go numb. Kuina, dead? Kuina, the strongest person he knows, gone? Kuina, who swore to him just yesterday they’d race to the top of the world together, doesn’t exist anymore. His blank face only cracking within the privacy of his sensei before he begs. He begs on his knees, tears streaming down his face please please please let me take Kuina's sword with me. Let me take our dream to a high neither of us could imagine. I won’t let her name die here.

On top of gaining the Wado Ichimonji that day Zoro also gained…fear. Not of death, well at the very least not his own, he gained his fear of not being enough. Kuina kicked his ass every way a person could and still died, what could someone like him do? So he trains…and trains…and trains some more. Overly, obsessively, constantly telling himself he’s not enough, he’s weak, he can’t protect anyone like this and everyone's death would be on him.

As for Zoro being cold and stoic that’s just…not completely true? He’s not stone, he can be excited or sad or angry just as much as most characters he just sucks at showing it canonically (Kuina thinks he hates her before their final fight after all). Sure he’s not as forthcoming about it as some of the other Strawhats but Zoro's more of an action guy anyway, he'll show his love with his protection and unwavering faith.

In conclusion, Zoro is a ridiculously stubborn, incredibly loyal, mildly emotionally constipated, do what you say/say what you mean kinda guy.

(Also that whole ‘Zoro would kill the whole crew if Luffy asked him to’ thing? Top ten stupidest things I’ve ever heard from the fandom and that’s saying a lot. He’s loyal not brainless and heartless guys if Luffy asked him to do that, he would never but I digress, Zoro would square the fuck up with him so fast. DPMO.)

[dulcescorderitas]

I know I just made a request, but I got so excited that I had to make another one, sorry for being a bit hasty, take your time.

We know that Clark is tall, that man is a fucking 6'3", he's tall, and well, thanks to his powers he's strong, that man is perfect, can you do something for him where the reader is short, 5'3" tall and she loves Clark picking her up or lifting her up? He just grabs her by the waist and lifts her up like she's a feather, which to Clark she probably is lol, but anyway, that's it, I'd be happy if you did something cute, no smut, but feel free to put it if you want, thanks 🤍

English isn't my first language, sorry for the mistakes

author's note: no send as many as you want!!!

it’s a thrill every single time. you could pretend you’re annoyed, act like his constant lifting is a nuisance—but deep down, you love it. no, love doesn’t even begin to cover it. every time clark wraps those impossibly strong hands around your waist and lifts you like you’re nothing, your heart skips a beat, your cheeks flush, and you feel… cherished.

today is no different. you’re reaching for something again—your step stool conveniently misplaced, no doubt thanks to your tall, teasing boyfriend. you could call out for him, but you know clark. he’s already there, looming behind you, his presence impossible to miss. the warmth of his body radiates before his hands even touch you.

“need a lift, short stack?” his voice is deep and smooth, laced with that playful charm he knows you can’t resist.

you try for a glare, but your lips betray you, tugging into a grin. “maybe i can manage on my own—”

before you can finish, his hands settle around your waist, large and secure, and up you go. your feet leave the ground as effortlessly as if he were picking up a feather. a small gasp escapes you, and you instinctively grab onto his forearms, not out of fear, but because you’re breathless at the ease, the sheer power behind his every move.

you laugh, a giddy sound you can’t hold back. “clark, you can’t just—”

“i can’t?” he interrupts, his grin audible in his voice. he holds you steady, your toes dangling in mid-air as if gravity itself bows to him. “sure seems like i can.”

and God, you can’t even be mad. you adore it—every second of it. there’s something intoxicating about how easily he handles you, how you feel weightless in his hands, safe and protected. you let out a little giggle, wiggling your toes like some victorious child.

“okay, okay, i might like this,” you admit, the warmth in your cheeks betraying just how much.

“might?” he lifts you higher just to make a point, spinning you around gently as if you weigh no more than a stuffed animal. the room blurs for a moment, and you let out a delighted squeal, grabbing onto his broad shoulders, your laughter filling the space.

“fine!” you cry out between giggles. “i love it, okay? happy?”

clark chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest as he lowers you—only not quite to the ground. instead, he shifts his grip, pulling you flush against him, one arm banded securely around your back while the other cradles under your legs.

“very,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your temple. “you know you’re my favorite thing to pick up, right?”

your laugh melts into a soft sigh as you rest your head against his shoulder. “and you’re my favorite person to let pick me up,” you whisper, your voice barely audible but honest.

he beams at you, holding you close, and you can’t help but feel like the luckiest person in the world.

[stxneflxwers]

I saw your post and came running 👀 I've been thinking about this since the end of December bc I really did not get into the holiday spirit until after it was over lmao BUT for any characters you want to write for: what are they like during the holidays? What traditions do they like to do? What gifts do they give you?

(Extra ideas you can take or leave if it helps your inspiration at all — How does Aventurine feel when you tell him you don't need any of those expensive gifts, just time with him? How does Sunday react when you sit him down to tell him he's stressing himself out too hard trying to find a perfect gift for you and that all you want is for him to be happy? How does Dan Heng respond when you tell him that the only gift you want for the holidays is him?)

^ I've just been rotating the hsr boys in my head all day at work lol so I have a lot of Thoughts™

gift of love.

summary. the greatest gift of all is his love.

a/n. tysm for the request!!! i decided to settle with gift-giving ideas you offered, since it sounded interesting and cute!! im just gonna stick with aven and sunday for this tho... i wanna test how sunday writes for me.

characters. aventurine. sunday.

cw. first time writing for sunday (this is more of a test with how much i enjoy writing him, sry for any OOC-ness). gift-giving. all lowercase. established relationship(s). PLS NOTE THAT I HAVEN'T DONE THE NEW TRAILBLAZE MISSION STILL CUZ I'M A LAZY MFER...SORRY.

aventurine.

tries to be soooo sneaky about figuring out what you like as gifts. he wants all of his gifts to be a surprise, after all! it doesn't work. you see right through his game plan. he's a smidgen disappointed (with himself), and might be a bit surprised depending on the kind of person you are.

he still ends up showering you in expensive gifts of things you enjoy. he tries to find the most expensive edition of any of those things even though he, of all people, should know that expensive ≠ well-made. you have to tell him to chill out.

he immediately believes you're angry with him (why wouldn't you be?). but you're not, and you can see the panic flash in his eyes for the tiniest of moments. you sigh softly with a wary smile. you briefly give him some space before talking to him about it.

you tell him that all the most expensive gifts in the world are nothing in comparison to quality time together. you remain patient with an open-mind and a listening ear – you know he needs a wealth of both. you make sure to tell him you miss him.

his mouth hangs open in silence when you tell him that, for once he's at a loss for words. his mouth closes and he smiles. he takes you into a soft hug and whispers, "i miss you too."

he makes an evident effort to be around you more often when he does have the time. you know, instead of wasting half of it out in the casino.

and it makes all the difference.

sunday.

the most perfectionist to ever perfectionist. stop him before he literally keels over from stress.

thankfully, you notice how weary he's been. and you ask him what's wrong. because at this point – everyone knows, everyone notices how he's been stuck in his head (more than usual). he frets over little things, as usual. but now he seems almost snippy. birdie is cranky.

when he eventually gives in and confesses that he cannot find the "right" gift for you, you're smiling and shaking your head. you give him a very long moment of silence, testing him – seeing if he catches on what you'll say next.

he doesn't catch on "quick enough", much to his dismay. perhaps he hasn't adjusted to your praises and reassurances...yet.

you tell him that the greatest gift of all would be for him to be happy. to be relaxed. to be in the moment. you throw in a little whisper, "maybe by my side, too."

he's silent – his mind running amok with what to say next. he settles for an awkward yet genuinely affectionate, "thank you..."

and then he asks for your forgiveness once he collects himself. you laugh softly and forgive him, you've gotten used to him asking for your forgiveness rather often. only yours, though.

at some point, you're going to need to tell him that forgiving himself is far more important.

[spanktony]

chapter two. | WHERE DO YOU SLEEP? — YU JIMIN.

𝘀𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀 — y/n, a rising music producer, has built her dream career while keeping her personal life under wraps. karina, aespa’s leader, is preparing for a huge comeback with a mini album produced and written by the one and only y/n.

karina knows this is the opportunity of a lifetime, and she has to nail it. the only problem is, she may be a bit distracted by her producer.

something about their connection feels different—like maybe it's worth the risk of prying eyes. but how much will they give up to chase after what they want?

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 — small tension w a tad bit of angst.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀 — 1.7k

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲— this is the last filler chap before things start heating up lol. if this does well quickly i'll drop the next chap immediately

taglist (open) — @sunshinez4 @gtfoiydlyj @yuyuy90

series masterlist. main masterlist. prev. next.

what? what was that noise?

it takes a second for you to register the sound, the left side of your cheek pressed against the soft white pillow on your bed as your eyes lazily blink open.

the buzzing continues.

you sigh, reaching a hand out from under the blanket, and pat the nightstand in search of the culprit. your fingers brush against the device, and you pull it towards you, holding it over your face and squinting.

the bright light momentarily blinds you, but when you open your eyes fully, you hit the green accept button and bring the phone to your ear, muttering a groggy hello.

"y/n," your manager's voice came through, far too cheerful for 1:07 a.m. "wake up! i got some big news!"

"obviously i'm up." you groan, rolling over onto your stomach and closing your eyes. sassiness wasn't really something you could control before your morning coffee. "what's the news?"

"karina wants you to help write and produce her solo," your manager blurts out, his excitement practically vibrating through the line. "she personally asked for you."

your eyes snap open. whatever sleep fog still remained vanishes in an instant. "wait, what?" you ask, sitting up so quickly the blanket falls off your shoulders.

"you heard me. sm called. she wasn't happy with the last version of her single and asked for your help. she loves working with you, y/n."

your heart races. karina. asking for you. specifically.

"but—but—" you sputter, still not quite believing his words. "no buts," your manager interrupts, clearly on a roll. "sm is flying you out first thing this morning."

you blink, your brain still playing catch-up. "wait, this morning? like, in a few hours?"

it was around 5 am when your plane finally took off, your headphones over your ears, and eyes covered by a frog sleeping mask that your mom got you for christmas.

the flight was long; it didn't help that you kept twisting and turning in your seat, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in. only fully submitting to the exhaustion once your head fell against your manager's shoulder, who was fast asleep and didn't mind.

the plane touches down with a soft jolt, and you push yourself upright, immediately regretting it. the frog mask from your mom's christmas gift sits comically on top of your head, and a long yawn escapes your lips as you stretch your stiff muscles.

your manager, ever the morning person, doesn't seem to notice your exhaustion as he watches security gather your things and move toward the exit. "you ready?"

you nod, rubbing your eyes. the realization of being back in korea hasn't fully hit you yet, and the reason you're back again isn't for personal enjoyment this time but for business.

with...karina.

you hadn't seen her in weeks (because you were in la), hadn't even spoken to her since that one fateful day when she gave you her number after pulling slightly on your arm. so much time had passed since then, and now, suddenly, the dark-haired girl was the topic of all your thoughts.

your manager and the security guards walk a little ahead, talking amongst themselves as they lead the way toward the exit of the airport. then there's a shutter, a faint shutter sound. then another.

you glance up to see a few people hovering near the arrivals area, some pointing in your direction. the whispers turn into excited squeals as you walk by; phones start popping up like whack-a-moles, flashes of professional cameras going off.

and you instinctively cover your face with the frog-shaped sleep mask, which causes a couple of laughs to erupt from the growing crowd. but you quickly pull it back when you realize you can't see out of it.

you hear your manager talking with the security team, and suddenly there's an arm wrapped around your shoulders, leading you outside, the warm sunlight hitting your skin. you're ushered into a waiting car, and your manager sits next to you, giving you a reassuring smile before explaining the next steps of your busy schedule for the day.

"wait, what? lunch?" you ask, a bit incredulous, a bit shocked. your manager chuckles and nods, "they want to treat you to lunch as a thank you for your hard work."

huh.

you sink back into the plush seat, twisting your lips. "and, um, all the girls are gonna be there?"

"yep," he replies. "everyone, including their manager. so make sure to rest when you get to your hotel room, okay?"

your heartbeat picks up speed.

"okay."

you really love your hats.

karina thinks to herself, watching you from the corner of her eye as you sit across the table from her, laughing about something aeri said. instead, this time you're wearing a red balenciaga hat with your brown hood pulled up over it.

you seem so comfortable, laughing and chatting with the others. they each had mentioned having fun that day in the recording studio and how you're one of the easiest people they've ever worked with, along with the most patient and caring.

the way you interact with her members is just the sweetest thing; karina's heart clenches, a soft smile playing on her lips as she watches you. your eyes widen, then you quickly nod your head, agreeing with yizhuo on how mogu mogu is one of the best drinks you've ever tasted.

the truth is, karina did request that you help her with her solo. it seems bad; it really does. her asking you to take down her number was a bold move, only to never receive a text from you, then asking you to come all the way to seoul for her own benefit.

she did it, though.

it wasn't just so she could see you; she truly did want your help. although she was happy to see you again.

the days after the first meeting, karina would replay your conversation in her head.

"ah, i didn't think of that. let's do it again!"

"for sure!"

karina doesn't even understand why the interaction stuck with her; it wasn't anything special, just a quick moment. yet, it stayed. karina was never one to act like a lovesick fool, and she prided herself on her professionalism. she had always been able to keep her personal and work life separate, and she knew the importance of keeping her relationship status private.

she knows how that turns out; she's experienced it firsthand before.

but something about you made her throw all caution out the window. she wanted to know more. wanted to spend more time with you.

"unnie? are you feeling alright?" minjeong asks, a tiny smile cracking through her concern. karina blinks, realizing she had been lost in thought.

"i'm fine," she replies with a forced smile, taking a sip of her water.

"i saw fortune cookies near the register. anyone else want one?" you suddenly ask, a wide smile on your lips as you stand from your seat. karina's eyes linger a second too long.

you earn a few yeses from the group before making your way to the counter, and karina gets up to follow you, excusing herself.

you glance over your shoulder as karina steps beside you. swallowing a lump in your throat, you turn back to the counter, your hands digging in the bowl of fortune cookies, trying to ignore the discomfort of karina's sudden presence beside you.

"how have you been?" karina asks softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"fine," you reply curtly, not looking at her. "busy." she pauses, and you can feel her studying you.

"you seem upset with me." you let out a small, humorless laugh, finally turning to meet her gaze.

"upset? no, i'm not upset. i just want to get this over with."

her brows furrow, her lips parting in confusion.

was she really trying to act like she had no idea why you were acting this way?

"get what over with?"

you stare at her. is she serious?

when it's clear that karina's waiting for an answer, you let out a frustrated sigh, stepping a little closer to her.

"this whole thing," you say, gesturing vaguely. "helping you with your solo. i don't even know why you asked me when you haven't bothered to talk to me since the day you gave me your number."

karina's expression shifts, her lips parting slightly as if to respond, but she doesn't. instead, she just stares at you, processing your words. "i didn't talk to you because you didn't text me," she says finally, her voice a little louder than before.

"what are you talking about? i did text you," you counter, swapping the handful of fortune cookies to your other hand before pulling out your phone. "i sent you a message right after you gave me your number. and then another. you never replied."

you open your messages, scrolling to the thread and showing her the unsent texts, demonstrating that you did, in fact, reach out to her. karina takes your phone, her brows furrowed as she inspects the screen.

her lips press into a thin line before she lets out a quiet laugh. "y/n," she says, holding the phone up. "you put a 3 instead of a 4 in my number."

"what?" you reply, confused. your mouth opens again, then closes. "no way," you mutter, snatching the phone back to confirm.

sure enough, there it is. the tiny typo that had caused months of silence. "oh my god."

karina bites her lip, her eyes shining with amusement. "i thought you ghosted me," she says, a giggle escaping her lips; she immediately brings her hand up to hide her huge smile, her shoulders shaking with laughter.

you groan, running a hand over the material of your hoodie. "i thought you were ignoring me!" you exclaim. you can't help the small laugh that slips past your lips.

you feel stupid, embarrassed. "i—this is so stupid. i feel so stupid."

"hey," she says gently, her smile softening. "it's not your fault. just... a miscommunication."

you exhale sharply, shaking your head. "yeah, but still. all this time, i thought—" you stop yourself, a sigh escaping your lips.

karina studies you, her gaze searching, curious.

"whatever. at least now i know."

karina tilts her head slightly, her eyes searching yours. "so... can we start over?" her question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you just stare at her.

then, slowly, you nod. "yeah. i guess we can."

she smiles, a genuine one that makes your heart flutter. "good."

series masterlist. main masterlist. prev. next.

[salty-an-disco]

What chapters would you say are your favourite characterisations for each of the voices? I ask because a lot of the way they act is very much based on what chapter they’re in :3c

Ooooohhh, that's a good one…… I take all the different ways they're portrayed in these chapters in consideration to inform different facets of them, but if I were to choose a favorite, let's see–

Contrarian: As much as I like seeing their more spiteful side in Fury and Apotheosis, and their line readings in Razor is fucking top-notch, nothing can beat the character arc they go through in Stranger for me. It's just. so good. Love this clown who's full of resentment and guilt <3

Cheated: Torn between Cage and Wraith…… Wraith, because seeing her bond with Cold over their mutual hatred for the narrator is just so fun, and how she goes about suggesting throwing Wraith in the pit ("Fuck those two. Let's flip the table!" how Contrarian of you Cheated) is just incredible to me. But I also really like how Cage shows that as sympathetic as Cheated can be, she can still fall into doing cruel things just to assert control over her circumstances, even to her own detriment. That's some good stuff.

Skeptic: EotN Skeptic, my beloved…… I feel like after pris-cut, people started focusing too much on Cage for Skeptic's characterization. Which doesn't feel fair, when that's him at his most stressed and desperate to cling to any semblance of control. It's still a very interesting look into his character, but people seem to be taking that as his default, and not him in dire circumstances. In Eye of the Needle, though, Skeptic is much calmer and even friendly, trying to gas Stubborn up to get him to help. He has a theory and a very simple set of circumstances to test, and even seems a bit excited to test it. Also shout out to Den Skeptic, the moment when he realizes the Princess is more than just a moment is everything to me. He's got low empathy, but he tries to be fair to others <3

Smitten: Sighs, really wish we got to see more of him, really feels like out of anyone, his character is really underexplored, which is a shame. Character-wise, though, gotta give it to Burned Grey. He's just…… so fucking devastated, lashing out at everyone around him, and the way he quickly switches up the moment we see the princess aikskkdmdk This chapter is what really shows where Smitten's priorities are to me. Her safety. Her happiness. At the expense of anyone and anything, even himself. And if he has to hurt, to burn alive, to get to it, he will.

Stubborn: Listen…… the way he managed to have such good chemistry with Adversary despite never speaking to her directly is just sijsjddjjdjdjf SO GOOD SIKSKDKJDKFJ. And I love, LOOOOOVE how he isn't the cliché 'ew, emotions' kinda tough guy. No, he feels, and he feels STRONGLY, you can even get him and Ada to sob in this route I'm just simskjdmdjjdjfj THEM!!!

Broken: Call me a contrarian (heh), but I love seeing Broken getting worse and doubling down on his devotion lol. It's more engaging, OK? And how spiteful and even mean he gets in Tower-Fury is just so good akmskkdmmdjdjd

Hunted: Den with Skeptic…… Just. Seeing this lil guy who was so so afraid of Beast finally get to understand her, to connect to her, and be the one urging you to reach out to her is SO GOOD. Also, the ending where you end up trapped under the rocks with her, when Hunted realizes there's no escape, and it just says it'll lay down and rest for a moment…… OUGH.

Opportunist: Gotta go with Wraith for him too aikskdjdjdjdis Not only is him hilarious there, but also surprisingly competent??? He actually manages to successfully suck up to the princess here???? The surprise factor of it matched with just how funny he is really bumped him up for me when I first saw this version of the route lol

Cold: Another one where their own route just can't be beaten to me akmskddmxmdm. I just love how even after murdering her in cold blood and suggesting we try to kill her again, Cold still gets along with the Princess so well. I also just really like his insights in this route when you decide to free her, about where does a world ends and another begins. It just goes to show how detached he is from reality. (Also, him casually insulting the Narrator every other sentence is just too good lol).

Paranoid: Apotheosis……… What I think is interesting though, is that while on the outside, it looks like Paranoid is 'winning' here, I think she's never been losing it more. She just confirmed that there are no fucking rules. This world is whatever they think it can be. And for someone with a lot of intrusive thoughts (no, it isn't Cold who's 'intrusive thoughts personified', stop calling him that, it's medically inaccurate and honestly insulting to people who actually suffer from intrusive thoughts), the mere idea of it is TERRIFYING. And I think she reaizes that just as they go to that epic fight, which is why she laughs like that, and why the fall is so hard on her and immediately makes her back down and feel like everything's doomed again. For a person full of delusions and intrusive thoughts, the construct is a fucking nightmare world (pun intended).

Hero: Now, for him, I just can't choose one route for his characterization. Out of all the voices, I think he's the most important one to really take into account how he can act in each route when characterizing him. I love his complexities and different facets so much, I made them into a plural system wkmsdmdkdmd he's just. sighs. Hero, my beloved <3

[bunni-v1]

sunday x m reader who wont shut up while hes working so he makes reader cockwarm him to shut him up

Cockwarming With Sunday

🍓Dom Sunday makes my skin crawl. Anyway, I went for a softer take than what you wanted, sorry lol. Even when Sunday tops I can't see him as all that mean, at least, not in the way this was worded lol. Anyway, I'm very well Sunday's biggest hater (I love him more than life itself), so I hope you enjoy this. I want him dead.

Tw: NSFW; Implied power dynamics; Mean(?) Sunday; Grammar Errors; ts kinda ass

Info: Dom!Sunday x M!Reader (it's hard to tell lol); Cockwarming; pre ae sunday; Nsfw

Word Count: 1.5k

Sunday was always considered to be a patient man, especially with those he considered important to him. He had put up with plenty of Robin's silly plans and humored her with delight -- he loved her after all, and any plan she had wasn't truly all that silly so long as it came from her. He even enjoyed her endless conversations when he was meant to be finishing up paperwork. His time with her was sparse, he could afford extra time away from his duties for her. She never kept him for long anyway, understanding his position better than anyone else.

You, however, did not have the excuse of being his darling sister. You spent a significant amount of time with him, both in and out of work, and he had all the time in the world to spend with you. Which meant you knew better than most others how much he needed to fill out this report today. Yet... you kept running those stupidly pretty lips of yours.

He wasn't even sure what you were talking about, he'd tuned you out about ten minutes into your talking. Nearly an hour had passed, and you were still going on and on about something or another -- he catches that it's about an up-and-coming artist you'd seen, not that he cares for any musician that isn't his sister. It wouldn't be so bad if you were just talking, he'd mastered the technique of ignoring things that seemed to get under his skin, but you needed assurance that he was listening.

He would occasionally have to pause and answer questions without much context, or hum in acknowledgement of your words. Your incessant rambling is normally incredibly endearing to him, but with the deadline looming over his head, and the ache stinging between his brows it was enough to make it vexing.

He lets out a sigh, hands pressing the pen to the desk just a bit too harshly. You silence yourself, flinching back a little in surprise. He nearly coos, he hadn't meant to scare you, but you were very cute when frightened. (Perhaps he shouldn't be thinking such things...)

"My love," He hums, meeting your gaze with a calm smile, "you know I love having you around, don't you?"

You nod, nervousness shining in your eyes, giving you away despite the brave front you put on. You were always too easy for him to read, a bit concerning considering the enemies he has, but he'd prefer you pliant than hardened -- at least, in that way.

He gestures to the papers on his desk, "You also know how important it is that I get this done today, yes?"

"Of course," You answer immediately, and he can see the realization of why he was scolding you across your face. So very cute. "Was I talking too much?"

He hums an affectionate smile on his face, and gestures for you to come to his side. You do so with no arguments, as expected. He turns in his chair, grabbing you by your hips to situate you between his legs. You flush a bit at the contact, predictable as always, but he chooses not to comment on it.

"I need to get this done, angel," He asserts again, and you frown shamefully.

"Would you like me to leave?" You offer, but the idea sours something in his chest.

He shakes his head adamantly, "Of course not. I love having you here, but you'll have to behave for me."

There is a spark behind your eyes at his words that makes him ache a bit, his member coming to life much too fast for his liking. The effect seems to be mutual, as far as he can tell from his position near your crotch. His placid smile morphs into a slight smirk, and his eyes meet yours again, "You can behave for me, can't you?"

You nod adamantly, "Of course, s-sir." The title is stuttered, somehow unsure despite your knowing very well what he wanted from you now. It was so adorable how concerned you were with overstepping with him. You truly could do no wrong in his eyes, even when you were getting in the way of his work.

"Then," he pushes you to step back, leaning back in his chair, "Take your pants and underwear off for me. Quickly, I'd like to get this done as soon as possible."

You nod again, doing as he says like a well-trained pet, pretty eyes looking to him for approval as you shove the clothes to the side. He rewards you with a smile, leaning forward to run a finger along the bottom of your hard cock. You hiss at the sensation, drawing a chuckle from his chest.

He eases himself out of his pants as he tugs on your sensitive member a few times, enjoying the little whimpers you give him. His dick springs free, hitting his stomach. He leans back again as it does, telling you what to do with his eyes alone. You follow along like in a trance -- he'd almost believed you were under the influence Harmony, if it weren’t for the fact that he wasn’t using it in the moment.

You hiss lowly as he slides into you. Going raw must've been painful for you, but it felt heavenly for him. Your ass squeezed him so well like it was meant to hold him deep within. He smiles reassuringly at you as you finally sit fully on his lap, taking your chin in his hand to settle a kiss to your lips.

"Very good," He compliments.

You bite your lip, averting your gaze, "Thank you, sir."

He tuts at you, drawing your gaze back just as quickly as it left, "You can sit still and wait like a good boy, can't you? If you can't well..."

"Of course I can!" You respond with a desperation that surprises both of you, quickly adding, "Sir."

"Good, good," he hums, pressing a warm hand against the back of your neck. Your chin rests against his shoulder on instinct, getting comfortable against him. Once he's satisfied with you behaving, he leans forward and starts back to working on the document you'd been distracting him from.

The scratching of his pen is one of the only things keeping you grounded in reality. The stretch of his thick cock in your ass is almost too much for your brain to handle. You shouldn't have been talking so much, honestly, this is no one's fault but your own. Still, the torture of not being allowed to move for fear of worse punishment is enough to make you want to cry.

You sit there pretty on his dick like a good boy, though. Always so obedient for him, if only he didn't have to tell you to behave. No one is perfect, so this was a sacrifice Sunday had to make to keep things as he liked.

His fingers climb up your spine, tingling across your body right to your achingly hard cock. You almost hear Sunday chuckle when it twitches between the two of you, but it's so quiet you believe you might've made it up in your fucked out brain. You wiggle your hips in an attempt to get some friction, but all Sunday has to do is place his hand on it and you cease all movements.

Sunday seems, on the outside, entirely unaffected by everything. For the most part, he really is. He's blasting through his work faster than before, but that was because he couldn't wait much longer to bend you over the papers and reward you for good behavior. Each squeeze around him has him swallowing down groans, determined to not give into your temptations -- no matter how wonderful that sounded.

When he signs the last dotted line and closes the stack of papers back to the front page he lets out a sigh that resembles more of a moan than anything as you clench anticipatorily around him yet again. His pen is set on the desk with a little 'click', and he finally looks at you after agonizing minutes of your squirming. Lust has clouded over his gaze, and he looks positively angelic nearly lost to his own sin.

You are no better, pleading with your eyes for him to fuck you like the sweet thing you were. Tears pricked at the corners of your lashes, a picture of absolute beauty. He smiles at you, wiping them away from your cheeks as they spill over.

"You were very good, my sweet angel," He hums, moving his hands to your hips, "you deserve a reward for behaving, don't you?"

You nod adamantly, your heart picking up in excitement. He raises an eyebrow expectantly at you, and you know what you're meant to do next without the need for words. Standing from his lap, hissing as he leaves your tight hole, and bending over his desk like the good pet you were.

"Very good..." He hums, and your spine tingles in excitement as you hear his pants and belt hit the floor around his feet.

[thewalrusespublicist]

"Tbh I was starting to feel a bit down about my blog and what I was putting out ( the eternal crisis on how to give full answers and opinions without being stupid, boring and annoying lol)"

OMG no way! Your blog is one of the best here! What i love the most is reading the analysis and meta from the users, there's always more information and good takes, and yours are always quite deep and insightful.

I would love if you share your opinions about Stuart as well. I feel like he is obviously more sanctified that he should be since he died young (like that insane quote from his mom saying that Brian told her that Stuart could have been the Beatles' manager, no way lol) and i feel his memory has been used to attack Paul, sometimes in a very unfair way. Like, i don't deny the teenage drama and jealousy that Paul felt about him but he *was* a shitty bass player and the band was Paul's future, he was allowed to criticized him not only for being John's new bestie. I also think John played with them both but i lack of your eloquence so i will love to read your take about it.

Hi anon! And the other anons!

Thank you again and to all the other messages I got, they were extremely sweet and really made my day. :)

From my inbox, it's clear you guys want to know about Stu and his role in the Beatles legacy. Well you asked for it and a novel you shall have. Be warned this might be the longest post I've done so grab like a drink or something.

A few disclaimers: I wish and had intended for this to be more of a deep dive into Stu as a whole person rather than just his relationship with John and Paul. Unfortunately I just didn't have the space to do it. If you want to know more about Stu I would highly recommend @eppysboys' blog which is the source for all things Stu Sutcliffe and where I got a lot of this info. Please check their stuff out. Also, I'm going to be a bit blunter on this than maybe I usually am because this topic has been irritating me for some time. Oh also I’m trying my best to answer a lot of asks in one post so please forgive if I don’t fully answer your specific ask about this!

Stu in a perfect world should be a fandom darling: an exciting cipher, a handsome artistic talent that died way too soon who had a major influence in the early Beatles style. It's like there’s this secret other James Dean looking mf Beatle hidden away to uncover, that's cool and he is cool! The problem is that he’s sort of becomes radioactive to talk about in a normal way due to how he's been portrayed and utilised in some biographies and fandom spaces, particularly those that have been infected by John Lennon aspirational boy bestie syndrome. As those types of spaces cannot seem to exist without tearing down Paul to prop John up as their special lil guy, Stu as John's other best friend has become the ideal heavy object to hit Paul McCartney over the head with. It's like a corrosive element, the minute Stu hits a Beatles bio, the biographer suddenly loses all training in objectivity and source work and starts waxing lyrical about 100 percent reliable never biased or wrong Saint Stu of Hamburg who died for our condom arson sins and that Paul McCartney should feel bad about every day of his life for not worshipping Stu and not accepting his own ‘place’ in life as John's just-some-guy placeholder best friend. I’ve personally seen so many posts and forums where Stu being mentioned leads to a legion of comments about how Paul could never have been Stu (correct both ways) and how John would never have even glanced at Paul for much longer if Stu had been alive. Sidenote: If you seriously think that the musical savant from down the road whom John went on to produce the most prolific song writing partnership in history with couldnt have kept his attention for long then I'm begging you on hands and knees to get your head out of the arse of your John Lennon body pillow and be serious. But anyway…

This boy bestie battle royale approach has in turn lead to a reflex reaction where Stu gets studiously ignored by other sections of the fandom as a precedent has been set that shining a light on him diminishes Paul and John's relationship with Paul. It's frustrating because if people weren't so keen to cut Paul out of his own story then we would get a much better nuanced view of every single person involved.

So let's put aside all of our defenses, cut the John Lennon loved one ranking system bullshit and lets look at the actual question here which is what was John and Stu's relationship really like and what did he mean to John?

John and Stu met at art college a year or so after Paul and John met. Up to that point John and Paul had their fun little codependant thing going on but Stu quickly became a huge fixture in John's life. Stu had things that Paul couldn't really offer at that point in time. John was at his heart a musician who aspired to be seen as an artist (he would later express surprise that he didn't become an artist). Stu was the passionate artist who knew tons about the art of the period that could teach and inspire John. Their creative leanings meant they could work on projects together and share art notebooks and poetry. (Including yes the one with anti-semitic story which I mention again as I believe it's an important thing to remember when it comes to both John and Stu and the culture of the time.) Stuart by the sounds of it was even writing a novel about John at the time of his death. They were fascinated and inspired by each other.

So, creatively they fired each other up but more importantly perhaps, Stu and John were peers. It's funny to think about when you see the Beatles later but at the time Paul and George were the kids in their school uniform coming to see their cool older friend at art school. That's an important divide. When Paul and George's parents insisted their kids do their homework and go to bed, John and Stu could stay up and talk all hours of the night, which they did. They also could rent a place together and spend long hours chatting (despite John moving out later after realising electricity cost money lol.) There's a different dynamic that the age similarity offered as well. Whilst Paul would later somewhat grow into this role, Stu could act as an authority figure to John as well as open up to John in a way you can really only do with your peers. Stu was the person John opened up to throughout Stu's life:

How long can one go on writing and writing like you. I now don’t really know who I’m writing to or why it’s quiet peculiar. I usually write like this and forget about it but if I put it in a little part of my [almost?] secret self in the hands of someone miles away who will wonder what the hell is going on or just pass it off as toilet paper. Anyway I don’t care really what happens because when I think about it, it’s so bloody unimportant – but what is important who has the right to say that this letter is not important and this is a something any way – anyway – anyway – yeah! I wonder what it would be like to be a cretin or something. I bet it’s gear. & how are you keepin Stuart old chap are you as ok – is life as good – bad shite, great – wonderful as it was or is it just a thousand years of nothing and coolness on and on and on. I think this is it Goodbye Stu don’t write out of – er what is it? well not because you think you ought to write when you feel like So goodbye (from John you know the one with glasses) ANYWAY BYE BYE see you soon I don’t know why I said that I remember a time when everyone I loved hated me because I hated them so what so what so fucking what I remember a time when belly buttons were knee high when only shitting was dirty and everything else clean + beautiful I can’t remember anything without a sadness So deep that it hardly becomes known to me so deep that its tears leave me a spectator of my own STUPIDITY + so I go rambling on with a hey nonny nonny nonny no

Extract from a letter to Stuart Sutcliffe from John Lennon, 1961

By lots of accounts Stu was gentle but firm when it came to telling John he'd gone too far. John references this aspect of Stu to Hunter Davies:

"I looked up to Stu. I depended on him to tell me the truth. Stu would tell me if something was good and I'd believe him."

The Beatles: The Authorised Biography (Hunter Davies)

In this way I kind of see Stu as a proto-Yoko. John was so insecure and uncertain about his grip on the world and reality that he relied on Stu to be his point of reference and guide. Paul did this too later and I think in Hunter Davies John mentions this, but not at this time period and not as much due to their competitiveness. This may be why some people saw Stu as the person that really understood John at this time period:

"During the turbulent adolescence that prefaced a turbulent manhood, hardly anyone knew Lennon as intimately as Stuart Sutcliffe. If they weren't exactly David and Jonathan, June Furlong, one of the life models at Liverpool's Regional College of Art, had "never seen two teenagers as close as those two."

The Gospel According To Lennon by Alan Clayson

Now this person likely never met John and Paul together but this is only one of many similar quotes and even Julia captain of John and Paul's friendship boat seems to agree there was a period where Stu dominated and Paul 'kept his distance' from the John-Cyn-Stu 'menage-a-trois'. But the friendship wasn't perfect and his position as John's ultimate best friend was never iron clad. This is best outlined by the shit they pulled when John convinced him to join on Bass for the Beatles.

Despite being John's best friend, Stu was teased and bullied:

"They argued as usual amongst themselves, but most of all they picked on Stu, the newest member of the group. John, George and Paul had been with each other long enough to know that rows and arguments and criticism didn't mean much. If it did, you just argued back. "We were terrible," says John. "We'd tell Stu he couldn't sit with us, or eat with us. We'd tell him to go away, and he did." At one hotel they stayed at, a variety show had just left. There had been a dwarf in the show and they found out which bed he had slept in and said that would have to be Stu's. They certainly weren't going to sleep in it. So Stu had to. "That was how he learned to be with us," says John. "It was all stupid, but that was what we were like."

The Beatles: The Authorised Biography (Hunter Davies)

Why John encouraged this I have no idea, maybe jealousy over Stu's looks and wanting to play people off each other? Things were tense in both Scotland and Hamburg, especially between Stu and Paul. As I said in my last post, the girls were fighting and it was mutual. Paul was mad for both fair and immature teenage-boy reasons. Stu could not be bothered with the bass most of the time and couldn't really play well and was only there as he was '(John's) best friend' (ouch for Paul). Paul conversely had given up higher education to be there and was sending lots of money back home. He also was dating the girl Paul fancied. Stu was popular with the new group and also did mean things like help John steal Paul's money when money was really tight for him. Paul in turn was a passive aggressive, jealous and mean. It all came to ahead in the punch up onstage which according to Spitz came about from Paul wanting money back and saying that Stu could borrow some from Astrid. Stu goes for him and reports vary from full-on bust up to embarrassing scuffle. Stu then goes to where Astrid and Paul's gf Dot are, demands Dot leaves and goes on a rant about Paul. Now all of this must be framed in the context of Stu receiving increasing brain damage from his condition that seemingly lead to mood swings and anger. Nevertheless, the mutual needling and anger, as well as John's refusal to do/say fuck all about it, especially given how protective John was of Stu, suggests that it wasn’t straightforward and/or John may have been playing some games to make both feel threatened. This would also make sense as to why we hear conflicting accounts of John and Stu being the centre of everything and everyone else in orbit AND John and Paul being the centre and everyone else playing catch-up, as well as John giving Paul the lead to take him round the Reeperbahn when John got dressed in the gorilla costume. (I know Paul may have just been the closest there but that always gave off bestie behaviour to me.)

(I did get an ask about how John and Paul's friendship survived it, I think it was damaged by Hamburg. When Paul got back home he got a job at a construction site and there's just a vibe of everything being a bit on tenterhooks. John also acts a bit weird at the period, not talking to anyone for a few weeks then making a lot of weird demands from Paul. I'm really not sure what to make of it.)

Even when he's back in Liverpool, John still writes long letters to Stu and vice-versa. I can't find it at all but I’ve read a really sad interview with John saying he missed his best mate and it's a shame that he's not with them. He had no idea at that point that Stu had already died of a brain hemorrhage at 21.

John is said to have gone into hysterics when he found out Stu had died. A lot of people who've spoken about this time (Aunt Mimi, his sister Julia, the Exsis) concur that at this point Stu was his best friend and the death shattered him. He even told Astrid he wished he could give his life for Stu’s. This is backed up by the fact that John never forgot Stu and his shadow lingered for the rest of John's life:

Stu was recalled in In My Life

Years later, after John composed the first of his truly poignant and heartfelt Beatles songs, "In My Life"—with its lines about "friends I still can recall/some are dead and some are living"—he revealed to me that the two people he had had uppermost in mind were myself and Stuart Sutcliffe. And then he stunned me with a statement that I'd never heard him address to anyone—least of all to another man. "You know, Pete," he said softly, "I do love you. But," he quickly added, "I loved Stuart as well."

Weird that Paul isn't mentioned surely you think that he would be mentioned if Pete was there too okay, okay my tin hat is going away this isn't the time

Pete Shotton, Nicholas Schaffner, John Lennon: In My Life

In 1965 John drew Stu on a postcard

He apparently said this about Stu prior to sending the postcard, prompted by an article about Stuart.

The card had been sent from Genoa mid-way through the Beatles' Italian tour. [...] But the conversation had become maudlin when I reminded him that he was going to talk to me for an article about Stuart. [...] In that sad telephone conversation before they set off for Milan, I asked him if he was happy: 'I'd be a lot happier if Stuart was still part of us,' he said, 'The Beatles would be complete.' And before he rang off he said 'Ill send you something.'

He also appears on the cover of Sgt Pepper

As mentioned, Stu gets mentioned in Hunter Davies in terms of wistfulness and guilt AND he gets a mention in John's insane 'if I were a homosexual' ramblings in early 70s. According to Yoko, John also wanted Yoko to write letters to him and didn't think it would be strange because Stu wrote letters to him.

I have a pet theory that as with a lot of things for John, his unresolved grief over Stu really came to the fore in the late 60s now that he had actually had a chance to sit down and think about things. I believe it was partially why he wanted Yoko to write letters and why he gets mentioned in the early 70s as a collaborator/best friend and not in 1980 where John only gives that credit to Paul and Yoko. I think with the cracks with Paul, John had started to think back on his old friend and guide and what advice he would give.

Stuarts presence is still felt throughout the seventies:

“He told me everything. He loved to talk about Hamburg. There were no secrets. It was the kind of life I never knew…. It meant total freedom. At his side always was Stuart, sweet Stuart. There wasn’t a time in John’s life when he didn’t think about Stuart. He spoke always of his love and respect for Stuart.”

Yoko discussing Stu in When They Were Boys: The True Story of the Beatles’ Rise to the Top by Larry Kane

Coming to grips with his death is also present in Skywriting

SEAN O’HAIRE: What happened to Stuart Cliff? DR. FISCHY: What happened was a full exchange of energy where it was not needed within the expression of your own self or in the energies involved around and about you. We cannot call it a happening. We’ll say it is an awakening, for in that way it has served an expression from the past to the present and to the future to where there shall be more of that incomplete vibration expressed to you in a more fuller understanding.

Skywriting by Word of Mouth, John Lennon

This isn't exhaustive but I think from all this it's pretty clear that John adored Stu, John grieved Stu and kept grieving Stu. Stu had a specific place in his life as a confidant that he tried to recreate with Yoko. At the time of Stu's death, he was John's best friend, probably slightly over Paul. Stuart had been able to be both a friend and paternal presence, a confidant and an artistic collaborator. His presence and loss was one of the foundational points in John's life.

But as we've been asked to play this stupid game and so many bios like to make a hoopla about it, were they at their closest ever as close as John and Paul were at their height?

No.

How do we know? Because John told us so:

" He [Paul] still is the closest friend I've ever had, except for Yoko, so I'm still close to him whatever goes on."

John Lennon to an interviewer, 1971

But Walrus! John just says shit! How do we know he isn't leaving out Stu because the press don't know Stu. Well true John does just say shit but this is at a time where John isn't the most glowing about Paul and he's had no problem mentioning Stu in this time period ('one of my best friends ever' would have made a similar point).

But Walrus again! If John picked Stu over Paul when they were young why wouldn't he be the boy bestie of all time, and why would John say that he was closer to Paul? Well, because of the environment and timings. Stu's death happened near the beginning of John and Paul's major bonding moments. If you look at their personal timeline, Paris, the Nerk twins, and getting signed happened just before Stu died. That's missing the major years of Beatlemania, Key West, LSD, Paul growing more into being John's peer and a load of other huge moments in their lives. It's like how John writes to Cyn in 1962 about wanting the house to themselves and not have Paul around all the time. Would you say because he feels closer to Cyn then that John in his overall lifetime loved Cyn more than Paul? No, because relationships change over time and theirs were no exception. (One thing to consider as well is that we don't yet have many letters between John and Paul during their Beatles years and earlier, probably because they were spending so much time with each other. We know a couple exist that Paul considers too personal for publication but I'm sure there are others. It's easy to understand what John felt for Stu as we have the letters, I think we would also have an easier time understanding what John felt for Paul if we had the equivalent of those.)

At the end of the day Paul was the man he believed he had a psychic bond with, the man he couldn’t shut up about, the man whom he’d conquered the world with with their endless collaboration, the man with a twin personality to him and according to John spent more time with throughout the 60s than he had with Yoko ever. To be frank if Paul had died in 67' I don't think this would have been a conversation.

As mentioned early, in early 1970s John elevates his partnership with Stu to his collaborations with Paul and Yoko but by 1980 he’s pretty clear that Paul and Yoko are their own category.

"I was saying to somebody the other day, “There’s only two artists I’ve ever worked with for more than a one night stand, as it were. That’s Paul McCartney, and Yoko Ono.” And I think that’s a pretty damned good choice!!"

John Lennon interview with DJ Dave Sholin, 1980

There are of course the what ifs. Would Stu still being alive mean that John was not as close with Paul? Maybe, highly doubtful though as the Beatles experience was so intense. If Stu remained a Beatle would John be as close with Paul? If Stu remained a Beatle he wouldn't be Stu so no. At the same time who knows what it would have been like if Paul and John were peers from the off? I said this to @the62ndbugsfan when it comes to Stu vs Paul (hi girl sorry i've made our chat a whole ass post lol) but to go a bit Wuthering Heights, soulmates are made as much from the earth as they are of the stars. What binds us is our experiences just as much as our personalities. There may be a universe where Stu and John took on the art world together or became inseparable bffs again after the Beatles disbanded, but it is not our universe. In this universe Stu tragically died and John and Paul chose to become Lennon/McCartney and artistically unite themselves forever.

Even going back to Stu's lifetime, I've said it before and I'll say it again I find it interesting that not only did John choose to go to Paris with Paul rather than pay to meet up with Stu somewhere but that they arranged to meet up with Juergen and nobody told Stu until they'd already gone. Stu was shocked and didn't know if it meant the end of the Beatles which is a pretty big thing for him not to know about. Why didn't John tell him if they're apparently still writing long letters? Was it because he really wanted to do this with Paul and didn't want to hurt Stu's feelings? And that's really the point I want to make here. Due to his trauma John was preoccupied with reinforcing ranking of relationships within his life. But the thing is friendship rankings are made up guidelines and the reality is far more complicated. You can have a designated best friend but feel closer to another friend at times, you can want to do one thing specifically with one friend and not the other for various reasons. You can (as I do) have more than one equal best friend. Friendship as with most relationships are in a constant state of flux and each friendship you have will give and mean a different thing, even if they are of similar value to you.

Paul may have ended up closer to John than Stu had been, but that doesen't make John's relationship with Stu any less special. Nor does Stu negate the significance of Paul. Whilst both fit into John's pattern of intense relationships and demands related to that, both had unique positions and meaning to him. Considering what I've gone into about John's closeness to Stu, it actually says something deeply, borderline unnervingly, intense about John and Paul that Paul pipped Stu to the post. Maybe it's time Beatles bios accept the fact that John Lennon just wouldn't be into them like that, stop using a tragically prematurely deceased young man as a prop in their jealous psychological warfare against Paul McCartney, stop perpetuating one of the most damaging games that John did to his loved ones and allow both relationships the space to shine and showcase the amazing talent that was the Beatles and those that surrounded them.

[artsfavoritehorn]

Can you please do headcanons where you work at a restaurant as a server/bartender and Art is your S/O and he comes in? OMG PLEAAASE this would make my heart so happy 🥺

It took me a while but these headcanons are finally complete, thank you for your patience! At first it started out as a more traditional headcanons list but as I was writing it, it kind of turned into a fic but I liked the headcanons format so I just stuck with it lol 😅 I hope you enjoy 😊🥰💕

Word count: around 1.5k✍️

No warnings for this one btw, this is all just sweet fluff 😇💜

(Also credit to @hauntedfoodie as well for coming up with the cocktail recipe! 😄🫶)

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

-Working as a bartender and server was an extremely tiring job, ESPECIALLY when you had to work around the holidays

-It seems like the restaurant would go into holiday mode earlier and earlier every year, your manager already having made your coworkers put up multicolored string lights and an assortment of glittery holiday decorations all over the walls and in the windows ✨🎄🎁

-You would be lying if you said that the decor didn’t brighten up the place and make it ever so slightly easier to bare, but it was definitely still a draining job as it would usually be so much busier around this time of year

-You were working on one of the rare slightly-more-manageable nights when suddenly, you noticed your boyfriend Art strolling up to your bar casually, wearing his Santa suit so he could better blend in ✨

-Usually, even though you loved to see him, you preferred that he stayed home or just didn't come in to your workplace to visit you, not wanting to draw too much attention to your boyfriend as to not make anyone suspicious of a clown constantly showing up on the premises, but you suppose the Santa suit helped a bit. You watched as he comically shimmied into his seat, the harsh clang of his heavy trash bag still able to be heard amongst all the commotion of the restaurant; it didn't take long for the few people sitting on either side of him to get up and walk away without another glance back 🤡🎅

-Trying not to make it obvious that you had any relation to him, you walked over to the clown like you would any other customer; Art’s eyes lit up instantly, his slender fingers giddily waving at you and blowing you a heavily exaggerated kiss as he noticed your presence 😙

-You leaned over slightly and whispered “What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be laying low for now”, concerned that his behavior seemed to be getting bolder and bolder as the days progressed closer to Christmas; you had come to terms with having to accept Art's lifestyle, but you were just worried about him getting in trouble or hurt- he's reassured you many times that everything's under control and that he'd be fine, but you still worried about him occasionally 🥺😓

-Art shrugged his shoulders playfully in response, pointing at himself and then back at you followed by a heart shape with his hands as he smiled at you innocently :3 🫶😃😋

-You sighed and shook your head. “Well, if you're gonna stay here for a bit, you're gonna at least need to have a drink so my managers don't get suspicious and kick you out for loitering on the property"

-Art pouted and folded his arms, the thick fabric of the Santa suit bunching up around his thinner frame, his tongue sticking out in disgust 😒

-You rolled your eyes. "I know you think alcohol is gross, babes, but I think I might know something I could make for you that you might actually like.” Art gave you a look as if to say “I don't believe you in the slightest- but good luck” and moved to rest his arms along the dark wooden bar, his focus shifting to absentmindedly running his fingertips back and force over its smooth surface

-You leaned over and grabbed a clean glass. “Alright, just give me a few minutes, I've got a couple of drink orders I need to fill first and then I'll bring you yours.” Art huffed silently, forever the impatient baby, but ultimately nodded in understanding 💖

-You turned and wandered back to the other side of the bar, grabbing a few extra glasses and placing them under the taps for the other patrons. Once their orders were fulfilled, then you got started on Art’s special cocktail 🥂

-You decided to go for something festive and classic, something very fruity and sweet that you knew would mesh with the clown’s tastebuds in a more pleasing manner than the hard liquor he had been offered in the past

-You decided to craft Art a cocktail made with moscato wine, white cranberry juice, lemon lime soda, and a smattering of whole cranberries on the top; perfect for the holiday season, and perfect for your clown boyfriend who loved his sweets 🥰🍹

-Strolling back over to his seat, you found Art reaching over the bar, trying to grab a handful of the little sharp wooden skewers you would use for fruit in certain drinks- when he noticed you a few steps away, Art quickly pulled his hand back into his lap and tried to feign innocence once more, pretending to whistle and look back and forth ⚔️🙄🤗😁

-You shook your head and smiled at him, placing a napkin down in front of him with his drink on top

-Art’s eyes went wide with curiosity at the sight of the bright cranberries floating atop the bubbly liquid, his eyes soon meeting yours again as he cocked his head slightly in heightened interest 😲😍

-”Trust me, you'll love it. I made sure it was extra sweet for my sweet-loving clown” you told him with a grin as you leaned against the counter, saying the last part in a hushed tone so only he could hear 😌💖🍬���

-Art tapped his finger against his temple and pointed back at you with it to signify he understood, his grin blossoming wider across his features bashfully at your words before glancing back down at the drink and wringing his hands together in excitement

-Before you could wait to see if he liked it, another patron across the bar waved you down. “I'll be back soon, I hope you enjoy it!” you told him, heading back to attend to your other customers

-You couldn’t help but watch out of the corner of your eye as you worked from across the bar as Art lifted the glass to his mouth and took a big sip, chugging the entire thing down in one go (he always drank way too quickly, you made a mental note to remind him to savor his drinks in the future lol)🍾😂

-The glass made contact with the bar, clinking pleasantly as it did so, Art’s eyes meeting yours again as he motioned for you to return to him when you could get the chance

-”Sooo, how was it? Have I finally found an alcoholic drink that you can actually enjoy?”, you asked him. Art’s smile grew as he nodded in rapid succession, patting his tummy to indicate that he thought it was delicious 🤤😋

-Your smile mirrored his as you leaned over to grab his empty glass, giving the counter a quick wipe to get rid of any condensation left behind with the cleaning rag in your other hand. “Good, I'm glad you liked it! I had a sneaking suspicion that you'd prefer something much sweeter.”

-Art nodded again and motioned with one finger up for you to wait a minute as he leaned over, grabbing his red spray painted garbage bag and rummaging through it 🎒

-Resting your elbows on the bar, you realized that Art was trying to give you money for the drink; an array of dirtied coins was plopped onto the bar top as he began counting out the loose change piece by piece (most of it consisting of primarily pennies) 🪙💰

-”Baby, don't worry about that, it's on the house. It was a practice drink for me anyway, and I don't mind buying a drink for good ole Saint Nick- especially for a super cute one at that.” You winked at him with a smirk as you placed more glasses under the taps, beginning to fill them up with various golden hued lagers for the other patrons' seemingly never ending slurry of orders 🍺🍻

-Art’s mouth opened in surprised shock before grinning again, waving the compliment off cheekily and kicking his feet a bit. With one swipe, he pushed all of the loose change back into the bag, the tiny circles of metal clanging around as they fell in amongst the array of other interesting items that he carried around with him 🤭

-The clown motioned to his wrist as if he was wearing a watch, silently asking you how much longer you had to be here for until your shift was over. “I’ve got about 2 more hours, love. And then I'll meet you back at home and we can cuddle and watch some movies, sound good?” ⏱️⌚️⏳

-Art smirked and nodded, satisfied as he stood up from the bar stool and stretched dramatically 🙆

-He grabbed his trash bag and ceremoniously slung it over his shoulder, blowing a kiss to you slyly before turning to leave the restaurant 😘💋

-You pretended to wipe down the bar as you watched him walk away, the bright red backside of his jolly disguise slowly becoming smaller in view before disappearing completely into the holiday hustle and bustle 🎁🎄🎅✨

Extra post bar scenario:

-When you arrived back home later that evening, you were surprised to find about 30 bottles of moscato and a huge pile of bagged cranberries that had definitely seen better days all lined up on your kitchen counter; you found Art sitting cross-legged on the couch in the living room, still wearing his Santa outfit and pretending to intently read a book, miming laughter at certain parts as his finger skimmed across the page he had randomly opened on 📚

-You confronted the clown about the bottles of wine, to which he simply put his hands up and shrugged his shoulders, the start of a signature smirk playfully skirting on the corners of his black painted mouth 😏😁😋💖

[delulusionwl]

♡ I Can't Keep You Off My Diary

Pairing ── Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Reader! | Apollo!Daughter Word ── 2k Synopsis ── In wich Clarisse see drawings of herself in reader's diary. Warnings ── Nothing much? (I hope), Clarisse and her group being annoying as usual, Reader being the target of their teasing? A bit of low self-steem? Insults of reader's apparence? (nothing related by weight, high or strong facial features or body limbs) Please help me with this, I'm new lol A/n ── English is not my native language, forgive any mistakes! Please alert me if any of the nicknames might be offensive to any racial group. I would hate for that to happen, and it’s not my intention. However, since my native language is not English, some of the nicknames may not have racial connotations in my language – which might happen in English. I appreciate your help with this! Please, let me know if it's good hehe :) maybe I'll do an part II, stay tunned!

Y/n wasn’t like any other child of Apollo. She stood out from the more predominant characteristics of all her siblings. The truth was that she often felt like an ugly duckling, with no hope of turning into a beautiful swan.

Amidst her siblings—blond, red-haired, or light-brown, with eyes ranging from honey to the brightest green—Y/n stood out, but not because she radiated more light than the others. Her beauty was cold. While the others resembled a beautiful morning sunbeam, Y/n kept her rays hidden behind layers of clouds—enough to light the day, but not enough to make it vibrant.

Her dark eyes and hair, along with her lightly tanned skin—barely touched by the sun—set her apart from the other children of Apollo, who seemed to be lovingly kissed by sunlight, vibrant, vivid, golden. These features enhanced Y/n’s cold beauty, making her impossible to go unnoticed. Some even claimed she couldn’t be a child of Apollo if the god himself hadn’t claimed her.

Despite her strong and contrasting characteristics in her cabin, Y/n’s abilities proved her to be a legitimate child of the sun god. In training and combat, her bow was her strongest point, always hitting its mark regardless of whether the target was stationary or in motion. She was also a good healer, like most of her siblings, and helped in the infirmary during tough times—especially after Capture the Flag.

What truly made her stand out, however, were her artistic talents: writing, singing, and drawing. Y/n excelled at everything related to art but insisted on keeping it to herself, even among her talented siblings. This was another distinctive trait: unlike most children of Apollo, she wasn’t a social butterfly. She didn’t flaunt her talents or surround herself with friends like her siblings. Y/n was more introspective but could be a great friend when she wanted to.

Y/n’s cold beauty set her apart from all the other children of Apollo. She didn’t go unnoticed—least of all by Clarisse.

The daughter of Ares had seen Y/n’s arrival at camp, skittish like a scalded black cat. Like everyone else at camp, Clarisse had initially thought, So Hades had a daughter? But the truth came out shortly after the rumors spread. Y/n was a daughter of the sun.

Clarisse, already a standout in her cabin, with her group well-established, “welcomed” the new daughter of Apollo to camp. From then on, whenever Clarisse saw Y/n, it was impossible not to make jokes about her appearance.

“Oh my gods, are you sure you’re Apollo’s kid?”

“If the sun had a cold, dull version, that’d be you.”

“Hey, Winter Apollo, ready to brighten our day? On second thought, don’t—the day might get even worse.”

“I always thought Apollo’s kids were lively and full of energy. But you? You seem to be on night mode all the time.”

Many such remarks were made by Clarisse and her group over the years. Sometimes, Y/n even laughed along—not to appease the children of Ares or ingratiate herself, but because the jokes were genuinely creative. The first time Y/n laughed, it only fueled sharper, slightly more biting remarks.

Clarisse vividly remembered the day. The sun was setting, giving way to night, and Y/n was returning to her cabin after a long day helping in the infirmary. Clarisse and her group were heading to their own cabin, inevitably crossing paths with Y/n.

Y/n looked at the group ahead, her expression neutral. As she moved to step aside and let them pass—hopefully without interaction—she was stopped.

“Well, well, the daughter of Apollo. If that’s really who you are. What’s this? Stole the essence of the sun but forgot to bring it to camp?” Clarisse teased, stopping briefly in her path, scanning Y/n from head to toe with an amused grin as her siblings laughed at her comment.

To the children of Ares’ surprise—especially Clarisse’s—Y/n let out a small laugh. The sound echoed in Clarisse’s ears, her eyes locked onto Y/n. “There’s the glow,” Clarisse thought, captivated by Y/n’s smile.

When Clarisse finally shook off the thoughts and the sound of Y/n’s laugh, her siblings were already piling on more jokes, sharper than before. She quickly snapped back to the present, slipping her hands into her pockets.

“Gods, with the way you are, Apollo might be rethinking his parenthood,” one of Clarisse’s brothers said, gesturing dismissively toward Y/n. This time, the comment didn’t amuse her as much, though the other children of Ares—Clarisse excluded—found it funny.

“Come on, leave our little sunblocked alone. Or she might start crying,” Clarisse said with a playful grin, eliciting more laughter from her brothers as they moved on toward their cabin.

As they walked away, Clarisse’s gaze briefly returned to Y/n, who took a deep breath and resumed her own path, glancing back at the Ares group and briefly meeting Clarisse’s eyes.

From that point on, Y/n wasn’t often seen near the Ares children. Camp was full of demigods, and Y/n would inevitably cross paths with others—or so Clarisse thought. But Y/n mainly appeared in training, the dining pavilion, occasionally in the infirmary, and during Capture the Flag.

Wherever Y/n was, if Clarisse was nearby, her eyes seemed magnetically drawn to the daughter of Apollo. Whether it was a crowded space or an open field, Clarisse couldn’t help but look, even if just for a few moments.

The first time Clarisse’s eyes were locked for more than a few seconds and she couldn’t look away from Y/n was in the dining hall at night, where the daughter of Apollo was talking with her siblings, wearing a beautiful smile and laughing softly with them.

The embers of the flames from the dining hall’s pyre made her dark hair shimmer with red and golden highlights, and her skin reflected the flames almost like a mirror, becoming subtly flushed from the heat and glow of the firelight. Her dark eyes and a smile just a bit wider than usual seemed to brighten the surroundings. Clarisse swallowed hard upon noticing all this and forced her attention back to her own group.

The daughter of Ares tried not to think about the daughter of Apollo over the years, but Y/n had already carved out a place in Clarisse’s curly-haired head. So, every time she spotted Y/n from a distance, Clarisse allowed herself a few seconds to look at her, just enough to take her in, before quickly turning her attention back to her group, pushing thoughts of the daughter of Apollo away.

Those thoughts, however, were about how Clarisse would like to see Y/n more often, how she hoped to talk to her more often... maybe without the sarcastic remarks. But Clarisse’s brain had already made a list of jokes, each one less rude and intimidating than the last, but a little funnier, unconsciously hoping to make Y/n laugh at one of them again.

Until one day, Clarisse, accompanied by two of her group members, was on her way to Hephaestus’s forge. Alec, one of Clarisse’s brothers, had left his sword there to refine its blade since the Capture-the-Flag game was at the end of the month. As they walked across the open lawn where a path led to the forge, Clarisse’s eyes fell on someone sitting in the grass with a notebook and pencil in hand, facing a bird perched on a rock.

The daughter of Ares chuckled through her nose, catching the attention of her brothers, who were casually chatting about a few strategies and how they hoped to defeat the children of Athena in the upcoming Capture-the-Flag. Alec and Darius smiled, amused, as they followed Clarisse across the lawn.

“Look at that, it’s ‘Apollo on mute,’” Clarisse said as they got close enough, causing the bird on the rock to quickly fly away and Y/n to look up at her, squinting slightly against the brightness of the day. Alec and Darius’s laughter was audible. Clarisse glanced at the open notebook in Y/n’s hands, which contained a few sketches: on one page was the landscape of the field, and on the other, the startled bird. “What do we have here?” Clarisse said, snatching the notebook from the other girl, who jumped up immediately.

“Clarisse, give it back!” Y/n said loudly, nervous, stepping closer, but Alec and Darius were quicker, positioning themselves in front of her to prevent her from reaching Clarisse, who held the notebook in her hands.

"Ah, what’s the matter?" Clarisse said with an amused laugh, and Y/n looked at her nervously, casting the same uneasy glances at Alec and Darius, who were thoroughly enjoying the daughter of Apollo’s reaction. "You’re not half bad at drawing, Ray-less." The daughter of Ares turned her attention back to the notebook, flipping a page and finding a drawing of a rose with many thorns curling across both sheets, along with some scattered phrases, some in Ancient Greek and others in English. Fragments of what seemed to be thoughts. "Oh... look what we have here... is this a diary?" Clarisse said, laughing, as she turned another page to see what else was inside.

"Clarisse, this isn’t funny. Give it back. Now!" Y/n said in a louder tone, reaching her hand out quickly, demanding that the daughter of Ares return her notebook.

"Chill, girl," Clarisse said nonchalantly, looking at the page she had turned to. "Why the rush, Y/n? Did you write down who your crush is in here?" The daughter of Ares laughed, and that was enough for Y/n to try pushing past Alec and Darius, who were standing right in front of her, to snatch the notebook from Clarisse herself.

"Hold it, overcast sky," Alec said with a sarcastic smirk, stopping Y/n from getting any closer.

"Clarisse!" Y/n called out loudly, her eyes fixed on the girl, who had just flipped another page in the notebook.

As soon as Y/n saw Clarisse’s eyes widen slightly and her lips part softly, her heart skipped a beat, and she swallowed hard. "Shit." The daughter of Apollo thought, swallowing again.

"C-Clarisse. Give it back!" Y/n pleaded, her voice trembling, her face starting to turn red, but Clarisse’s eyes remained fixed on the notebook as she turned more pages.

The daughter of Ares’s brothers grew curious, and that was enough for them to move closer to their sister, one on each shoulder, peering at the pages in the hands of a practically frozen Clarisse.

"IT’S YOU!" Darius shouted in delight, and Alec burst into laughter while the two girls stood there, almost like statues.

Some drawings were heroic, worthy of one of those paintings of the Greek gods: Clarisse with her spear, battle clothes, hair and parts of her attire flowing in the wind, claiming her victory over faceless enemy bodies. Clarisse shouting and warring, accompanied by her own army of faceless people.

Other drawings? Something simpler, calm… gentle, perhaps a side of Clarisse she didn’t let many see: Clarisse smiling with her siblings—not a sarcastic or amused smile, the one she always gives after tormenting another poor soul at camp. No, not that one. It was an open, carefree, and relaxed smile. Clarisse with her piercing eyes and long lashes, looking straight at whoever's eyes were on the page. Clarisse with a small smile, just like she had during one of the past campfires, except this time with a flower in her hair. A real flower, pressed between the pages of the same drawing.

Y/n cleared her throat while Alec and Darius laughed beside a frozen Clarisse, who was staring at the drawings.

"Had your fun?" Y/n said, steadying the tremble in her voice, stepping forward and snatching her notebook back quickly. She closed it and started walking back to her cabin. Even though Y/n tried to appear unshaken, the undertone of her voice betrayed her mortification.

Clarisse finally snapped out of it when she heard the firm steps on the dirt fading away. She turned, watching Y/n moving away as fast as she could, while her brothers still laughed beside her.

"Wow, she did more than just write down who her crush was," Alec said, chuckling.

"Congrats, Clarisse, you’ve got yourself a fan," Darius said, laughing even harder, leaning on his sister’s shoulder.

Clarisse brushed Darius’s hand off her, and although her face was flushed, her brows were furrowed, and the glare she shot Darius was far from friendly.

"Shut up, idiot," Clarisse snapped at Darius, irritated, shoving him hard enough to send him to the ground. When she turned to Alec with the same fiery glare, he shut his lips and raised his hands, trying to compose himself. "I swear to the gods," the daughter of Ares muttered angrily, trying to pull herself together.

"Just one question..." Darius said as he got up, catching his breath. "Why’s your face so red?" He smirked, teasing his sister, while Alec struggled not to laugh.

"It’s the sun, idiot." Clarisse said curtly, blaming something else as she started walking again toward Hephaestus's forge, refusing to think about what had just happened.

Alec and Darius followed a few steps behind her, stifling their laughter, while Clarisse stomped forward, determined to keep her thoughts far from Y/n’s notebook. Far from Y/n.

"'Apollo on mute' has her glow," Alec whispered to Darius, who stifled another laugh as they trailed behind Clarisse. "Clari, wait up!" Alec called out, still laughing.

[charmed-quill]

Burrow Bound// Bill Weasley x Reader Chapter 3

a/n: this is most definetly a slow burn bc what do you mean its 10k words and the main love interest has been mentioned by name once? Okay so i really really promise that the next chapter is actually going to move the plot along im just such a sucker for relationship building. also i got the ides for this chapter based on a pub crawl i did in prague with this random american woman i met that same day, also i get extreamly sappy when I'm drunk lol.

request: @littlegreenteacup

Could you possibly write a longer one shot (or longer if that makes more sense) for Bill Weasley x American reader where the reader is a halfblood witch who works for the natural history museum in muggle London and befriended the twins (who are the same age as her) and Charlie after getting lost looking for a shop in Diagon Alley since she’s only just moved to England. Bill is reeling suddenly being a single father after Fluer leaves and has to leave her with Molly during the day. The reader spends a fair amount of time at the Burrow but she and Bill always seem to just miss each other (much to everyone else’s amusement and frustration) and then one day he walks in to pick up Victoire after work and the reader is either holding her or playing with her or something and it’s love at first sight for him, but he’s a little bit awkward about it all and it’s slightly angsty until the dam breaks and fluff ensues.

word count: 3.5k

Last Chapter

Next Chapter

The letter had arrived on Thursday afternoon, the parchment folded haphazardly and shoved into her mailbox like an afterthought. Y/N frowned as she unfolded it, immediately greeted by the nearly indecipherable scrawl.

“We will pick you up after work and show you the best spots in London. Be not afraid.”

She tilted her head, squinting at the messy handwriting as if it might magically rearrange itself into something legible. It took a full five minutes of deciphering before the message became clear, and even then, it felt more like a command than an invitation. The tone practically oozed Fred and George, and she couldn’t help but grin.

By Friday, her excitement had built to an almost unbearable level. As much as she loved her job, the endless hours of cataloging artifacts and poring over dusty records could be mind-numbing. The thought of an evening with Fred and George, as chaotic as it was likely to be, felt like a breath of fresh air.

When the clock finally struck five, she bolted from her desk, her bag slung over her shoulder as she made her way to the museum’s grand entrance. The cool evening air greeted her as she stepped outside, but it wasn’t nearly as refreshing as the sight that awaited her.

Fred and George were waiting, just as they’d promised, or rather, threatened. George stood near the museum steps, pretending to study the architecture with an air of mock seriousness. Fred leaned casually against a lamppost, his arms crossed and a crooked grin on his face that spelled trouble.

“There she is!” George called, raising both arms like he was greeting a celebrity.

Fred, who had been leaning casually against a lamppost, straightened up and strode toward her with exaggerated pomp. “The woman of the hour! Ready for your initiation into proper London life?”

“Does this initiation involve any hexes?” Y/N asked suspiciously, crossing her arms but unable to suppress a grin.

Fred draped an arm around her shoulders as if they’d been friends for years. “Only if you insult the queen,” he said seriously. “Or refuse to join in our pub crawl.”

George sidled up on her other side, his grin matching Fred’s. “It’s very British, you see. Pints, laughter, and us guiding you through the evening like the stellar role models we are.”

“Role models?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?”

Fred gasped dramatically. “Y/N, you wound me.”

“But she’s not wrong,” George said, shrugging. “We are notoriously terrible influences.”

Y/N rolled her eyes as they began to walk, the twins on either side of her like an overly enthusiastic escort. “So, what exactly is the plan?” she asked, trying to hide her amusement.

“Simple,” Fred said, holding up a finger like a professor giving a lecture. “Step one: we take you to a pub that has the best chips this side of the Thames.”

“Step two,” George continued, “we dazzle you with our unparalleled charm.”

“Step three: you laugh so hard you cry,” Fred added.

“And step four: you tell everyone back at the museum how much fun you had with your two favorite Brits,” George finished with a wink.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head at their antics. “I think ‘fun’ is one way to describe this.”

They led her through the bustling streets, their constant chatter making the city feel more alive than ever. Every few steps, Fred or George would point out something random

“That’s where a pigeon attacked Fred last year,” or, “Don’t go in there, their pies are cursed, and not in the fun way” keeping her laughing until her cheeks ached.

As they reached the first pub, Fred held the door open with an exaggerated bow, and George ushered her in with a flourish.

“Ladies first,” George said, grinning.

Y/N fanned her face with her hand, batting her eyelashes in a dramatic display. “What gentlemen,” she declared, “who said chivalry was dead?”

Fred and George exchanged a look, their matching smirks spelling trouble.

“Well, we do our best,” Fred said, puffing out his chest. “Someone’s got to uphold the honor of the family.”

“Yeah,” George added, giving her a once-over. “We’ll just pretend we don’t see the dirt on Fred’s shoes.”

Fred kicked at George’s shin, missing entirely as Y/N snorted, trying to suppress a laugh. Together, they ushered her into the pub, which looked nothing like the bars she was used to back home.

The room was dimly lit, with the warm glow of sconces and a roaring fire casting long shadows on the stone walls. The wooden beams overhead sagged slightly, as if they carried the weight of centuries of stories. The smell of ale, roasted meat, and something faintly herbal hung in the air, a far cry from the overly sanitized bars she’d frequented in the States. It was old, ancient, even.

Wherever they were now, she hadn’t even caught the name of the place, it looked like it belonged in a medieval village rather than the bustling city of London. 

The mismatched chairs and uneven tables were packed with patrons, some laughing raucously, others bent over quiet games. 

A smoky jukebox in the corner belted out a peculiar mix of jazz and folk music.

“What do you think?” Fred asked, steering her toward the bar.

Y/N glanced around, wide-eyed. 

“I feel like I’m about to be accused of being a witch,” she said finally, her tone dry.

Fred laughed, clapping her lightly on the shoulder. 

“Oh, don’t worry. If anyone starts yelling, we’ll just point at George and claim it’s all his fault.”

“Oi,” George protested, nudging Fred with his elbow. “I’m clearly the innocent one here.”

“Sure you are,” Y/N said with a grin, sliding onto one of the bar stools.

The bartender, a stout man with a beard that looked as old as the pub itself, approached them. His sharp eyes flicked over the trio, his expression softening as he saw the twins. 

“Weasley trouble tonight?” he asked, his voice gravelly.

“Always,” Fred said brightly. “We’re initiating our friend here into the fine tradition of British pubs.”

The bartender nodded knowingly, wiping a glass with a cloth. 

“First time, eh? Better start her off with something light.”

“Or,” George interrupted, leaning conspiratorially toward Y/N, “you could try the Dragon’s Breath.”

Fred’s eyes gleamed. “Ah, yes. Bold choice. It’ll definitely be memorable,.”

Y/N arched a brow, looking between the two of them. 

“Sounds like a trap.”

“It’s not a trap,” Fred said, holding a hand to his chest as if offended. “It’s an experience.”

“Fine,” Y/N said, laughing. “I’ll take the Dragon’s Breath, but if it’s awful, you’re both buying me dessert.”

“Deal,” George said without hesitation, flagging down the bartender.

As they waited for their drinks, Y/N continued to take in the pub’s surroundings. 

“So,” Fred said, pulling her attention back to them, “what’s the verdict so far? Are you utterly dazzled by our superior culture?”

“I’ll admit it,” Y/N said, leaning her elbows on the bar. “This place is pretty great. Though I don’t know if that’s the pub or you two.”

George grinned. “Oh, it’s definitely us.”

The bartender returned with her drink, a frothy amber pint that shimmered faintly. 

Y/N hesitated, lifting the glass to her lips. The first sip was smooth, almost sweet, then the spice hit. Her eyes widened, and she coughed, thumping her chest as a fiery heat spread across her tongue.

Fred and George erupted into laughter, doubling over as she reached for a glass of water. “What—what did you give me?” she choked out, her voice half-scolding, half-amused.

“The Dragon’s Breath,” Fred wheezed. “We didn’t lie!”

“Welcome to Britain,” George added, raising his glass in a mock toast.

Despite herself, Y/N couldn’t stop laughing, even as her mouth burned. 

The more she sipped her drink, the easier it became. The initial fiery burn of the Dragon’s Breath mellowed into a pleasant warmth that spread through her chest. By the time she reached the dregs of her glass, Y/N felt the first flickers of alcohol loosening her limbs and her laughter coming a little easier.

Fred and George jumped to their feet, practically in unison, and Fred tossed a handful of Galleons onto the table with a flourish. “Thank you for the hospitality as always, Aloc,” he announced, giving the bartender a theatrical bow.

“Yes, yes, so many pubs, so little time,” George chimed in, his grin wide as he took Y/N by the arm and steered her toward the door.

“What’s next on the agenda?” Y/N asked, stumbling slightly as they stepped out onto the cobbled streets. The alcohol was definitely working its way through her system now, leaving her pleasantly buzzed and warm.

“You’ll see,” George answered, shooting Fred a conspiratorial grin.

The Lamb & Flag was a narrow, historic pub hidden in the winding alleys of Covent Garden, its timeworn exterior glowing under the warm light of nearby gas lamps. Stepping inside felt like stepping into another era—one of Dickensian London, with its low, dark wooden beams and walls lined with faded paintings and ancient-looking maps. The tables were small and uneven, their surfaces polished to a shine by centuries of use, and the air buzzed with laughter, clinking glasses, and the occasional shout from the bar.

“This place has history,” George said, his voice reverent but his smirk betraying his true intentions as he led Y/N toward a corner booth. “Proper, real history. They say Charles Dickens drank here.”

“Charles Dickens?” Y/N repeated, looking around with wide eyes.

Fred leaned closer as they slid into the booth, his tone low and conspiratorial. “Yep. He wrote A Tale of Two Cities right in that corner.” He pointed to an empty chair by the fireplace, his face the picture of seriousness.

Y/N blinked, her gaze flicking to the chair, before narrowing her eyes suspiciously. “Really?”

George grinned. “Nope, but it sounded good, didn’t it?”

She laughed, shaking her head as Fred returned with three ciders. He placed one in front of her with a flourish. “Here you are. The second-best cider in London.”

“Second-best?” Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow as she took the glass.

Fred winked. “We save the best for last.”

The first sip of cider was crisp and refreshing, a welcome change from the fiery intensity of the Dragon’s Breath. Y/N leaned back in her seat, letting the buzz in her veins settle as the twins launched into another one of their ridiculous stories.

“So there we were,” George began, gesturing dramatically, “testing out one of our new prototypes, Weasley’s Wheezing Whistlebombs. A flawless invention, if I may say so.”

“It wasn’t flawless,” Fred interrupted, smirking. “You set your own hair on fire.”

“Details,” George said, waving a hand dismissively. “Anyway, this Muggle cop shows up, thinks we’re up to no good, which, fair enough, and Fred here decides to tell him we’re part of a street performance act.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Fred said, grinning.

“Only because you juggled three fireworks while quoting Shakespeare!”

Y/N laughed so hard she nearly spilled her drink. “Wait—what did the cop do?”

“Oh, he was completely charmed,” George said smugly. “Even asked for tickets to our ‘next performance.’”

Fred raised his glass in a mock toast. “To the Weasley charm. Works every time.”

“To not getting arrested,” Y/N added, clinking her glass with theirs.

The cider went down smoothly, and Y/N found herself settling further into the warmth of the pub and the company of the twins. By the time they left the Lamb & Flag, the streetlights outside had come to life, and the crisp London evening felt charged with the promise of more mischief. Y/N looped her arms through theirs as they led her to the next stop, her laughter echoing down the cobblestone streets.

The George Inn was tucked away in Southwark, its sprawling courtyard glowing under strings of fairy lights. The creaking wooden floors and galleried balconies made it feel like a portal to another century. Y/N tilted her head back, marveling at the place as they stepped inside.

“This is like something out of a fairytale,” she murmured, taking in the lantern-lit beams and packed tables filled with patrons laughing over mugs of ale.

“Fairytale?” Fred scoffed, leading her to the bar. “This is real history. Shakespeare probably downed a pint here.”

“Or twenty,” George added, grinning. “He seemed like a party guy.”

They handed her another drink, this time a lighter ale. “This one’s easier,” Fred assured her, tapping his own glass. “A beginner’s choice.”

It was smoother than the last, but Y/N was feeling the effects now, her balance less sure and her laughter louder. The twins took full advantage, making increasingly ridiculous jokes about the "ghost of Shakespeare" sitting at the next table.

By the time they left, Y/N was leaning heavily on Fred’s arm, her cheeks red from both the alcohol and constant laughter. “I’m not sure if I’m drinking or just inhaling your nonsense,” she said, giggling as George led the way to their next destination.

“Both,” Fred said, grinning. “It’s the Weasley special.”

The Mayflower sat perched along the Thames, its timbered exterior glowing softly under the moonlight. Inside, the pub was dim and atmospheric, with wooden beams overhead and a crackling fireplace in the corner. The walls were adorned with nautical artifacts—old ropes, ship wheels, and faded maps that told stories of seafaring adventures.

“Now this,” Fred said as they stepped in, “is a proper pub. Oldest one along the river. They’ve been serving pints since before America even existed.”

George leaned toward Y/N, his smirk widening. “Feeling patriotic yet?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, laughing as Fred ordered them a round of stout. When the bartender slid a glass her way, she hesitated before taking a cautious sip. The dark, malty brew was rich and intense, and she blinked a few times as the flavor settled. “Wow. This one’s... strong.”

“Strong like us,” George said, flexing his arm dramatically.

“Or our ability to hold our liquor,” Fred added, clinking his glass with hers.

As the stout worked its way through her system, Y/N’s laughter became even freer, her words a little more slurred. She found herself caught up in the cozy atmosphere, watching the flickering firelight dance across the room as the twins bantered back and forth, keeping her in stitches with their antics.

By the time they left the Mayflower, Y/N stumbled slightly as she stepped outside, gripping George’s arm for balance. “You two,” she said, her voice a mix of exasperation and affection, “are going to ruin me.”

Fred grinned, looping an arm around her shoulders. “Ruin you? We’re upgrading you.”

“Cheers to that,” George added, leading the way to their final stop of the night.

The Spaniards Inn, perched on the edge of Hampstead Heath, seemed to glow in the moonlight, its old, crooked exterior oozing charm. Inside, the warmth of a roaring fireplace greeted them, and the scent of mulled cider mingled with the faint smokiness of the wood beams overhead. It was quieter than their earlier stops, with soft murmurs of conversation and the occasional clink of glasses adding to the cozy atmosphere.

Fred led the way to a corner booth, helping Y/N settle into the seat with a dramatic flourish. “Here we are,” he said. “The final chapter of tonight’s adventure.”

George returned moments later, carrying three steaming glasses of mulled cider. “The perfect drink to end the night,” he said, setting one in front of Y/N.

She took a cautious sip, the spicy warmth spreading through her like a comforting hug. “This is amazing,” she murmured, wrapping both hands around the glass as if she could soak up its heat.

“Best in the city,” Fred declared, leaning back in his chair.

As the night wore on, the cider worked its magic, loosening the last of Y/N’s inhibitions. Her laughter came easily, and her cheeks were warm—whether from the fire, the alcohol, or the company, she wasn’t sure. At some point, she leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand as she gazed at Fred and George with wide, glassy eyes.

“You know,” she began, her voice a little too loud and her words slurring slightly, “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you two.”

Fred arched an eyebrow, his grin teasing. “Well, you’re not wrong. We are one of a kind.”

“No, I mean it,” she insisted, her hand wobbling slightly as she pointed at them. “You didn’t have to do this, taking me out, showing me around, making me feel... like I belong. But you did. And... and I’m just so grateful.”

George chuckled, leaning on the table to rest his chin in his hand, mirroring her. “Aw, Fred, she’s gone full sap on us. We’ve broken her.”

Fred nodded solemnly, raising his glass. “A masterpiece of our making. To Y/N, the sappiest American in all of London.”

“Stop it!” Y/N cried, though she was laughing as she swatted at him. “I’m being serious. You’ve made everything so much better. I didn’t think I’d find anyone like you here, and... and now I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Fred and George exchanged a look, their grins softening. Fred reached over, giving her hand a light squeeze. “Well, you’re stuck with us now. No refunds.”

George raised his glass with a warm smile. “To Y/N, our new favorite stray kitten.”

“And to the best pub crawl in history,” Fred added, clinking his glass with hers.

Y/N beamed, her eyes misty as she lifted her glass to meet theirs. “To you two,” she said softly. “For being the best.”

Everything after the last pub was a blur. One moment Y/N was laughing uncontrollably with Fred and George in the middle of London, their arms linked as they stumbled down cobblestone streets. The next, she was waking up in an unfamiliar bedroom, her head pounding like a drum and her mouth as dry as parchment.

The midmorning sun poured through the window, mercilessly bright, forcing her to squint as she rolled over. Blinking a few times, she took in her surroundings—wooden beams, mismatched furniture, and a distinct homey clutter that she vaguely recognized. Voices floated up from somewhere below, muffled but distinctly cheerful.

Dragging herself out of bed, she shuffled to the door and twisted the knob, stepping out onto the landing. That’s when it hit her. The hallway, the stairs, the smell of something delicious wafting from the kitchen—she was at the Burrow.

Her foggy mind pieced it together as she descended the stairs, one hand gripping the banister for balance. By the time she reached the living room, three familiar grinning faces were waiting for her, their expressions far too smug for her liking.

“There she is,” Charlie said brightly, stepping forward and thrusting a mug of dark blue liquid into her hands.

Y/N didn’t bother asking questions. Trusting Charlie’s easy smile, she tipped the mug back and downed it in one gulp. The concoction was bitter and slightly fizzy, but as it went down, the pounding in her head began to ease almost immediately. She let out a long sigh of relief, her shoulders sagging as the tension melted away.

“Better?” Fred asked from his spot on the sofa, his head tilted lazily against the armrest as he grinned at her.

“So much better,” Y/N agreed, setting the mug down on a nearby table and giving Charlie a grateful nod.

“We thought we’d killed you last night,” George announced, leaning back in an armchair with a dramatic sigh. “You went down faster than a Quaffle through a goalpost.”

Y/N smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck. “Sorry, I probably should’ve mentioned I’m a bit of a lightweight.”

“A bit?” George repeated, his grin widening. “Lightweight is an understatement. You only had five drinks!”

Y/N shrugged, her smile turning playful. “What can I say? You two are a terrible influence.”

Fred sat up, clutching his chest in mock offense. “Us? A terrible influence? We were nothing but supportive of your pub crawl journey!”

“Supportive?” Y/N laughed, crossing her arms as she leaned against the doorway. “You gave me a drink called ‘Dragon’s Breath’ and said, ‘You’ll probably survive.’ That’s not supportive.”

George snorted, shaking his head. “It’s a rite of passage. You should be thanking us.”

“Thanking you?” she echoed, rolling her eyes but unable to stop the grin tugging at her lips.

Charlie chuckled, leaning against the back of a chair. “Well, you survived. That’s what matters. Welcome to the Burrow’s hangover cure services.”

“Much appreciated,” Y/N said, rubbing her temples for good measure before plopping down into an empty chair.

Fred and George exchanged a look, their grins widening. “So,” Fred said slowly, “ready for round two tonight?”

Y/N groaned, throwing a cushion at him. “Not a chance!”

The room erupted into laughter, and as Y/N sank further into the cozy atmosphere of the Burrow, her headache gone and her heart full, she couldn’t help but feel a little grateful for the chaos these Weasleys had brought into her life

[feketeribizli]

okay wait marci questions. how does he feel about media stuff? press, sponsored posts, the obligatory slash forced social media goofing etc. actually what's his social media presence like in general. also does he have pets..... did he grow up idolising anyone currently on the grid? how does he feel about racing his childhood heroes if yes? also, what's his favourite colour? capping it here but i want it known that he has eaten my brain 👍

hiii thank youuuu absolute bangers from you as always mwuah mwuah 😁🫶

nearly wrote a thousand words LMAO im putting a readmore somewhere to save yall... thank you for your time everyone 🫡

with all the live cockslip talk i thought itd be fun to delve into his social media presence for real... team and personal brand posting he doesnt mind per say, he got that goober in him that doesnt take oneself too seriously so hopping on silly trends hes almost looking forward to it. aston socials esp their tiktok is like my fave thing in the world lol id love to see him recreate the adam security & gf trend with padre

marci mostly uses instagram and its a mess... i barely follow any drivers but ive noticed they almost always got a certain aesthetic they try to keep up and well. marci dgaf. theyd try to put some color grading filter on the first photo in his dumps so at least theres some harmony to his page but its atrocious

he obviously has an official account on every other site but its usually for stuff his management posts on there (and an empty tiktok profile where his reposts are public. surely nothing weird or suspicious to see)

back to press and shit... hes not a fan 🧍‍♂️ he prefers the scripted stuff and when he can have like three takes to say something cause when its just him and twenty cameras broadcasting live... he still gets nervous and then the accent slips in and he stumbles his speeches and words things in a way people could twist what he said around easily (moment of silence and empathy for little lando norris). hes a small scale driver so the world doesnt hang on every word he says but yknow how it is

oh now im yapping like crazyyy... this part could get a whole new post but its kinda media related and ive been thinking and wanna talk about it a bit... if youve read this far kisses xx 😘

but yeah since im inserting marci into the canon events of real life theres bound to be loud media frenzy around his arrival especially since its aston. and in lances place (gotta work more on this but i was thinking lance has a kinda bad crash somewhere in the beginning of the 2024 season and my guy gets summoned out of thin air colapinto style to fill his place in until recovery but out of nowhere lance is like id like to temporarily step back lol 😋✌️ and the world explodes and marc is full time employed now)

and like idk how the hungarian public would react to a hun on the grid after twenty years (hes faggy so id care. otherwise idgaf about hungarian athletes for the most part) but that combined with the guy the world seems to hate a lot finally stepping down (NOT ME LANCE I LOVE YOU this is me trying to help this is me putting you in good situations) the commotion would be a major event with marcis name in the tabloids for a bit

all im trying to say is that his f1 entry would probably be very overwhelming and hes this shy guy no one has ever heard about before blabbering at stupid fucking press questions while glued to fernandos side. who is he whats his deal

ok lets put a hold on media for now 🧍‍♂️ as for pets... an old bernese back at home :-) marci kind of grew up with her (as much as he was at home. or the country even)... management posting ten-year-old marci at his first karting event with the puppy in his hands and then twenty-year-old marci after his first grand prix facetiming his family in the aston garages with the dog on the phone too... ack

about idols... his big thing is michael schumacher i know that for sure. marc generally looks up to everyone and has immense respect for most drivers. the more i think about it the more im like maybe bro got a thing for psychosexual warfare kinda drivers (schumi, vettel, alonso...) like yayyy to on and off track terrorism when its not aimed at me 😁

confession i kind of made him to deal with my conflicting feelings about aston martin as a whole lol and well. anyway he still shivers hot and bothered sometimes when fernando is around. gets a bit self conscious about it too but nothing that taking it up in the ass couldnt fix

fave color is greeeeen 😁 as i said match made in heaven with aston. team merch is glued to his body

WHEWH what an essay and i dont even know if im making sense lol ! marci is taking shape and becoming rock solid in my head im very happy about it 😋🫶 shoutout again to everyone intrigued i love cooking up the guy im having sooo much fun ‼️💥❣️