#but you can read him like a book so it's all good

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Just Kiss Her

James Potter x BSF!Reader

Summary: You find a few unsent letters with your name on them- literally.

WC: 2.1k

CW: use of {Y/N} - typo and nonsense it's 4am and I can't sleep.

The Gryffindor boys' dormitory was unusually lively for a day when James was absent. You sat cross-legged on James’s bed, surrounded by the mess that only four teenage boys could call normal. The faint scent of James’s shampoo lingered on his pillow behind you, a small comfort as the chatter of the room swirled around you.

Sirius groaned dramatically from his own bed, his leg propped up on a stack of pillows. He had injured it during their last Quidditch practice and was now milking the situation for all it was worth.

“Darling,” Sirius called, drawing out the word as he tilted his head toward you. “I demand attention. Do you know how utterly dull it is, lying here with nothing but Moony’s dull bookishness and Wormtail’s horrible color sense for company?”

“I’m literally right here, Pads,” Remus replied flatly, not looking up from his book.

“And you love me,” Sirius shot back without skipping a beat, grinning lazily.

You rolled your eyes and turned your attention back to Peter, who stood in front of the mirror with a tie hanging awkwardly around his neck. “I think the green one is better,” you offered. “It brings out your eyes.”

Peter frowned, his hands fumbling with the knot. “But is green too Slytheriny?”

“Not unless you start hissing and cursing muggleborns,” you replied with a teasing smile. “Just pair it with a gray jumper. Neutralize it.”

Peter nodded, muttering something about giving it a try before swapping it for a blue tie. Meanwhile, Sirius groaned again, this time louder.

“I’m dying, and none of you care,” he complained, flopping back against his pillows like a tragic figure in a poorly acted play.

“You’re not dying,” you said, leaning back on your hands. “You’ve got a bruised leg.”

“Bruised? Bruised?” Sirius gasped as if you’d mortally wounded him. “That’s how they minimize war injuries, you know. Next you’ll say I’m malingering.”

“Which you are," Remus said, still not looking up from his book.

Sirius turned to you, ignoring Remus entirely. “Come on, love. Entertain me. Read me a story or sing me a song or- oh! Recite poetry! You’re good at that.”

“I’m not reciting poetry for you, Sirius.”

“Why not?” Sirius pouted. “You do it for James.”

“That’s because James actually asks nicely,” you quipped, smirking.

At that, Sirius clutched his chest as if you’d stabbed him, his grin betraying his dramatics. “Et tu, Brute? I thought you loved me.”

“Loved, past tense,” you teased. “You’re officially too high maintenance.”

“You wound me,” Sirius said, throwing an arm over his face. “Moony, tell her she’s being cruel.”

“Not getting involved,” Remus said quickly, still reading but now smiling faintly.

Sirius turned his face toward you again, his pout morphing into a cheeky grin. “Fine, if you won’t entertain me, at least come sit over here so I can lean on you while you’re ignoring me.”

You rolled your eyes but stood anyway, walking over to Sirius’s bed. “You’re unbearable.”

“I prefer entertaining,” he replied smugly as you perched beside him, letting him lean his head on your shoulder.

The room was quiet for a moment, save for the sound of Remus flipping another page in his book and Peter muttering to himself as he fiddled with another tie. Sirius, still leaning on your shoulder, let out a long, exaggerated sigh, clearly waiting for you to indulge him.

“Alright,” you finally relented. “I’ll read something to you. Happy now?”

Sirius grinned triumphantly. “Ecstatic. Now, find something good. None of that boring rubbish you usually bring in here.”

Rolling your eyes, you stood and glanced around the room. “Fine, but I’m not wasting my time reading some textbook or Quidditch manual. Let’s see if James has something decent for once.”

Sirius perked up, watching you make your way over to James’s trunk. “Careful, darling, you’re stepping into dangerous territory. Prongs’s secrets and all that.”

“Oh, he won’t mind,” you said, waving a hand dismissively. “Besides, if he didn’t want me snooping, he’d have locked it.”

Remus glanced up from his book. “I’m not sure that logic holds up, actually.”

You knelt beside the trunk, lifting the lid to find the usual James Potter mess: a tangled heap of robes, a few textbooks with worn edges, and a Gryffindor scarf stuffed haphazardly into the corner. But what caught your eye was a small, battered box tucked near the bottom, half-hidden beneath a crumpled cloak.

“What’s this?” you murmured, pulling it out and turning it over in your hands.

Sirius’s eyes gleamed with interest. “Oh, now that looks promising. Open it.”

Remus let out a quiet sigh. “I wouldn’t- ”

“Of course you would,” Sirius interrupted. “It’s Prongs. What’s his is practically hers anyway.”

Ignoring their back-and-forth, you pried open the lid. Inside was a disorganized stack of parchment, some neatly folded, others crumpled and torn. Some were even singed at the edges, as if they'd narrowly escaped being thrown into the fire. Every single one had your name scrawled across the top in James’s messy handwriting.

Your heart skipped a beat.

“What is it?” Peter asked, peeking over your shoulder.

“Letters,” you said softly. “They’re… they’re addressed to me.”

Sirius’s grin grew impossibly wider. “Oh, now this is good."

Remus closed his book, his brow furrowed. “Are you really going to read those? They’re personal.”

“They’re addressed to me," you replied, a mixture of curiosity and nerves stirring in your chest.

“You’re doing him a favor,” Sirius said breezily. “If he didn’t want you to read them, he’d have gotten rid of them properly.”

You hesitated for a moment before unfolding the first letter. The parchment was slightly wrinkled, and the ink looked rushed, as though James had written it in a moment of unfiltered emotion.

Dear {Y/N},

You probably think I’m an idiot. Honestly, you wouldn’t be wrong. I’ve tried to write this letter five times already, and I keep throwing them in the fire. But this one… I don’t know. Maybe I’ll keep it. Maybe one day I’ll find the courage to actually give it to you.

You laughed today. I can’t even remember what I said to make you laugh, but Merlin, it was the best sound I’ve ever heard. I keep playing it over in my head like an idiot, and it’s driving me mad.

I think I love you. No- scratch that. I *know* I love you. But I can’t tell you. What if you don’t feel the same? What if it ruins everything? Maybe it’s better this way. At least I can still be near you, even if it kills me to pretend.

Your voice caught, and you lowered the letter, your hands trembling slightly.

“Bloody hell,” Sirius said, looking genuinely impressed. “Prongs has it bad.”

Peter nodded mutely, wide-eyed.

“You really shouldn’t be reading those,” Remus muttered, though his tone lacked conviction.

But you couldn’t stop. You reached for another letter, this one more crumpled, as though James had balled it up in frustration before deciding to keep it.

I tried to burn this one too, but I couldn’t. I can’t seem to get rid of the things I write to you, even if they’re pointless. You’ll never read them anyway. But writing them feels like the only way to stop my chest from caving in whenever I see you with someone else. Merlin, I’m pathetic.

I wish I could just tell you. But then what? You’d laugh, or worse, pity me. I couldn’t stand that. So, I’ll keep pretending. Keep being your best friend. Keep loving you quietly.

“Wow,” Peter said softly.

You sat back on your heels, clutching the letters tightly. All this time, James had been carrying these feelings- for you- and he’d never said a word.

“See?” Sirius said, looking smug. “Told you this was worth it.”

Remus shot him a glare. “You’re not helping.”

You looked up, your heart pounding. “Why didn’t he tell me?”

Sirius leaned back against his pillows, crossing his arms behind his head. “Because he’s James bloody Potter. He’d face down a hundred Death Eaters without flinching, but one look at you and he’s a goner.”

The door to the dormitory burst open, and James Potter strolled in, looking thoroughly windswept from Quidditch practice. His broom was slung over his shoulder, and his Gryffindor scarf dangled loosely around his neck.

“Alright, lads, miss me?” he asked cheerfully, dropping his broom beside his bed. He glanced at Peter, who was still fiddling with his tie. “Wormy, mate, what’s that? A tie? You look like you’re about to slither off into the dungeons.”

Peter huffed, pulling at the tie. “It’s green with gray accents. She said it works.”

James’s laugh was loud and carefree, but then his gaze landed on you, sitting on the floor with a stack of letters clutched tightly in your hands. The open box on the floor beside you caught his eye, and his face immediately fell.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice suddenly sharp.

You froze for a moment but quickly regained your composure, hugging the letters closer to your chest.

“Reading,” Sirius said from his bed, his tone positively delighted. “Turns out, Prongs, you’re a regular Shakespeare. Real heartfelt stuff.”

James paled as he took a step toward you, his eyes wide with a mix of panic and embarrassment. “Put those down. Now. They’re mine.”

You stood quickly, holding the letters tight to your chest as if they were a treasure. “No, they’re mine. They’ve got my name on them.”

“{Y/N},” James groaned, his face turning a deep shade of red. He lunged for the letters, but you stepped back just in time.

“I don’t think so,” you said, grinning as you unfolded another letter. You held it up dramatically, clearing your throat. “Let’s see what this one says- ”

“Don’t you dare!” James exclaimed, his voice cracking slightly.

“Dear {Y/N},” you read aloud, dodging James as he tried to grab the letters again. “You’re going to kill me one day, and I’ll probably thank you for it. Today, you- ”

James groaned loudly, lunging for you again. “I mean it! Give them back!”

But you were faster, darting around Sirius’s bed and laughing as James scrambled to catch you. “Today, you laughed at my joke in Transfiguration, and I swear I forgot how to breathe- oh, that’s good, James! Real poetic!”

Sirius howled with laughter from his bed, clapping his hands. “Oh, this is gold. Absolute gold.”

Peter, wide-eyed, muttered, “Should we stop them?”

“No,” Sirius said quickly, waving a hand. “This is the most fun I’ve had all day.”

James was completely flustered now, his hair even messier than usual as he chased you around the room. “You’re impossible!” he said, his voice breathless.

“And you’re in love with me,” you teased, waving the letters in the air. Suddenly you paused, as if reality hit you. Your smile grew tenfold as you looked at the letters then to him with wide eyes. “Merlin, you're in love with me!”

That made him freeze for half a second, giving you just enough time to read aloud again. “You’ll never read this, but Merlin, I can’t stop thinking about you- ”

Before you could finish, James lunged and finally managed to catch you, his arms wrapping around you tightly. You squealed in surprise and delight as the two of you toppled backward into the open closet, the letters scattering around you.

James pinned you gently, his face mere inches from yours, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “You’re an absolute menace,” he said, though his tone was more fond than frustrated.

“And you’re a hopeless romantic,” you shot back, grinning up at him.

For a moment, he just stared at you, his hazel eyes filled with something intense and unspoken. Then, before you could say another word, he kissed you- soft and sweet at first, but quickly turning urgent and consuming.

You forgot about the letters entirely as his hands framed your face, his lips moving against yours like he’d been waiting for this moment forever. Your laughter melted into the kiss, your hands clutching the front of his Quidditch jumper as if to anchor yourself.

From outside the closet, Sirius’s voice rang out. “Bloody hell, Prongs, save some for later!”

James pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his face flushed and his smile wide. “Remind me to hex Sirius later,” he murmured, his breath warm against your lips.

“Deal,” you whispered, leaning up to kiss him again.

Sirius groaned loudly. “Merlin, they’re hopeless. Wormtail, fetch me a bucket; I’m going to be sick.”

Remus sighed, his tone amused. “I think we’ve just lost James for the rest of the day.”

[gatorbites-imagines]

I love the idea of Kryptonians having a few animalistic instincts/habits. Like the purring and such, it makes me so happy when i read it, kicking my feet, giggling etc. I love it so much, especially when it's Conner, with him discovering new things about himself. So sweet, so perfect, gimme more sweet sweet Conner😫😫

Conner Kent x male reader

Headcanons

This is mainly just Conner and my kryptonian biology headcanons. This is based off of my own kryptonian headcanons, which you can read here.

Imagine Conner learning he can purr. Kryptonians, in my headcanons, purr at a frequency humans can’t hear. So, you two would be cuddling and he would suddenly notice he’s rumbling. He might start freaking out and asking if you can hear it, but obviously you can’t.

It takes some freaking out from both of you, and you pressuring him to ask Clark about it, for you guys to learn what it is and that it’s not dangerous. Conner ends up getting a whole book or pdf about kryptonian biology, that he barely reads.

Imagine Conner realizing he goes crazy for his partner’s scent. It doesn’t even have to be in a sexual way, he just starts salivating and going a little fuzzy in the head when you come around smelling extra ripe.

He starts realizing it’s a problem when he finds himself yoinking clothes from your laundry basket so he can keep it in his bed and rub it all over himself, since Kryptonians don’t sweat. I’m not sure if Conner would sweat a little since he’s half human, or if he doesn’t sweat at all.

You guys decide you might actually need to read the pdf Clark gave you when Conner starts snuffling into your armpits when you guys cuddle, or when he starts licking your neck or chest, without even seeming to realize he’s doing it.

Now, also imagine Conner starting to rub on you more and more since he just wants to be close to you and to smell like you. Hes like those clingy boyfriends on tiktok that are always kissing on you and whining when you have to get up for work.

Conner would just be questioning himself on his actions and the instincts his body wants to act on. his kryptonian wants are more dulled compared to Clark or Jon, since Conner is a lab grown kryptonian, but they are still there.

Conner would be weirded out by his purring for a long time, and might subconsciously try and stop himself from doing it, even though you cant hear it. It’s just kind of weird for him, maybe its because he was raised with human knowledge and doesn’t feel as connected to his kryptonian biology as he probably should be.

Imagine Conner basking in the sun like a cat. He finds out that your bed is just perfect to lay in during the sunny hours of the day, and he realizes it feels so good to lay there without a shirt on.

You walk in on him multiple times just laying splayed on your body in nothing but his boxers. If you have a cat or cats, then they are laying on the bed too, purring up a storm. They cant hear his purring, but they can sense it, so its so loud with purrs in there.

Imagine here, Conner slow blinking at you like a big ol cat. Hes also so warm to the touch, always, thanks to the sun power in his skin and body. Hes a complete nightmare to cuddle in the summer. Because he WILL want to cuddle.

Since I headcanons kryptonians have a sun organ, or a sunspot as I call it, Conner would have one too. Because of his half kryptonian nature, this organ is somewhat underdeveloped. He gets most of his excess radiation out through his TTK. But the organ starts to almost “ripen” when you two start dating.

It takes months for the organ to grow sensitive to the touch, and only when its you touching it since you are his “mate”. It becomes raw in the way a bruise is, the kind that you can only feel when you press on it. except it also makes his knees buckle almost like a button to make him collapse.

Being in a happy healthy relationship actually strengthens and stabilizes his powers because it helps this organ develop, which helps his body stabilize.

This gives you a healthy and horny kryptonian, since the sunspot developing also kickstarts his kryptonian growth. Hes active in every way that matters, but you better watch out when you guys reach around the 30s in physical ages, since that’s when kryptonian sexual maturity truly kicks in.

You guys also better read that pdf in detail, or you might end up with Conner developing organs to carry offspring. It would be extra difficult since he’s half human, but if you guys truly wanted to knock him up, then his body would allow it.

[nyoomfruits]

Landoscar + book

"I think Norris might be into you," Logan whispers, holding up his own book to hide behind.

Oscar looks up from the pages and books spread out in front of him. Lando's sitting a few tables over, reading a book. "Right. And why do you think that?" Oscar whispers back. At the table next to Lando, a girl glares at them. He ignores her.

"He keeps looking over here," Logan says.

"So? Maybe he really wants our table," Oscar says. It is a really good table. Best spot in the library, near the windows so you get some natural light, but never where the sun gets in your eyes. Tucked away in the corner enough to give some privacy while also still being able to overlook the rest of the room. And close to the section Oscar needs the most, so. Perfect.

"You're the only person who's weird about your table selection," Logan says.

Oscar really doubts that. "Maybe he's into you."

"Please," Logans rolls his eyes. "I just winked at him and he frowned. I'm not the one he's after."

Oscar glances over again. Lando hasn't looked up since they started this conversation, so all Oscar can see are his artfully touseld curls, the way his fingers splay the sides of the book. Oscar can't see his face, but he can imagine what it looks like, brows furrowed in concentration, tongue poking out of his mouth. Oscar's been watching him, pining after him, long enough to know. "He's not into me."

"Okay," Logan says. "Sure." And then, with the biggest, shit eating grin on his face. "Then why has he been reading his book upside down the whole time?"

[marauder-misprint]

Permission

Series Masterlist

Sirius Black x Fem!Slytherin!reader

1.5k words

cw: fluff, swearing

Sirius makes it his mission to find Regulus before dinner. He doesn’t have any idea how he would convince Regulus, but he figures he’d start with asking him. Worst Regulus could say would be ‘no,’ right? And then Sirius could work on wearing his brother down until he said ‘yes.’ You may be a dear friend of Regulus, but Sirius was confident he could sway him.

Sirius makes his way to the library. He is almost certain Regulus would be there. He had seen you walk down toward the Slytherin Common Room so all he can do is hope Regulus is in the library and not awaiting you in the dungeons. He feels uneasy as he opens the library door. He doesn’t visit the library often so the thick scent of old parchment and ink takes over his senses. Madam Pince gives him a cautious look from her desk. 

As Sirius walks in, he scans each table for his brother. He passes shelf after shelf, looking down each one. Each table is filled with students but none of the Slytherins are Regulus, and none are ones he could ask for his location. However, he’s on a mission. He has to find Regulus. Sirius looks throughout the entire library and stops right before the last shelf. He takes a deep breath. If Regulus isn’t at the table at the end of this aisle, he’ll have to search all of the castle. He takes a step forward and turns his head. 

There he is, sitting at the table which is covered in stacks of books. Sirius can’t help the massive grin that spreads across his face as he casually strolls down the aisle. The younger boy doesn’t notice him until he’s practically leaning over his shoulder.

“I remember Flitwick assigning that essay,” Sirius says lazily. 

Regulus stops moving for a moment. Then, slowly and mechanically, he turns his head to look at Sirius and sits up straighter.

“Sirius.”

His blank stare quickly turns unnerved as he sees Sirius’ smile. Whenever Sirius hunted him down, it was to give a message to their parents and therefore, he usually had a grim or annoyed look on his face. This unbridled joy is a new look. 

“I need to ask you something,” Sirius says.

“Then ask it, brother.”

“I need your… permission.”

Regulus narrowed his eyes. “For what?”

“To take your friend on a date.”

He blinks at Sirius. 

“My friend?”

“You know which one.”

“Yeah… The dog person.”

“So, can I take her out?”

“I don’t know why you’re asking me. She’s her own person.”

Sirius pulls out a chair and sits down. 

“She said you have to think it’s a good idea. Otherwise she won’t go with me.”

Regulus hums and looks back down at his essay. “That’s interesting.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“After she came back smelling of you twice, she said she’d tell me if you made a move,” he laughs. “Didn’t know she was going to make you tell me yourself.”

“She isn’t making me do anything,” Sirius says, crossing his arms and leaning back into his chair.

“She’s making you get permission, isn’t she?”

“Yes…” Sirius pauses. “So can I take her out on a date?”

Regulus sighs as he takes a long look at Sirius. Sirius sits there silently, trying to get a read on his expression. He couldn’t quite tell which way this conversation was going.

“What do I get out of it?”

“Anything.” 

That was a dead giveaway for Regulus. If Sirius was willing to owe him anything, he really wanted to take you out on a date. It was also a game changer for him. Regulus had been planning on saying no the entire conversation; if you sent Sirius his way for permission, you figured out that Sirius wasn’t taking no for answer from you and needed someone he might actually listen to. 

“She thinks you’re pretty, by the way,” Regulus finally says. “But if you hurt her in any way, I will personally make your death look like an accident. Or they’ll never find your body. I’ll decide on that later.”

Sirius gapes at him. 

“She thinks I’m pretty? Did she say this to you?”

“Yes.”

“Wait, you said if I hurt her. So you think me going on a date with her is a good idea?”

Regulus snorts a laugh. “Well, no. But we’re going to say I do. I think it’d be good for her. And you.”

“Huh,” Sirius says, not completely sure what his brother meant by that but he wasn’t going to ask.

“Huh?” Regulus echoes.

“Yeah. … What else did she say about me?”

Regulus rolls his eyes before actually returning to his essay. “Fuck off. Be glad I think it’d be funny to hear about a date with you from her perspective. Go.”

Sirius claps a hand on Regulus’ shoulder before he leaves the library with a new spring in his step. Was he technically in Regulus’ debt? Yes. But Sirius is certain it will be worth it, and there’s always the chance that he will never redeem this favor. 

He’s surprised when he doesn’t see Regulus at dinner. Dorcas and Pandora sit on either side of you. Sirius spends far too much time watching you with a permanent smile on his face during the meal.

“Did… something happen?” Remus asks cautiously.

“Mhmm.”

“Okay so what happened?” Peter follows up.

“She’s going on a date with me.” Sirius’ voice is giddy.

James nearly chokes on his juice. “She agreed to a date with you?”

Sirius shoots him a look before saying, “All I had to do was get Reg on board. Surprisingly easy.”

“I don’t believe that,” Peter says through a mouthful of food. He swallows. “Why would your brother need to be ‘on board’?” 

“They’re friends, remember?” Remus answers. 

“Probably thought he’d say no or something,” Peter says. 

“But he didn’t. And now we’re going to Hogsmeade this weekend.”

Sirius continues to watch you for the rest of the meal. You don’t look his way once. You think there is no way that he’s already talked to Regulus and managed to get him to say it’s a good idea. You don’t even bother to tell your friends about it. You’re certain it’s not happening. That’s why you sent Sirius to Regulus; the brothers never agreed on anything. They never talked. 

After dinner, you’re leaving the Great Hall with your friends when you hear Sirius calling your name. You turn and cross your arms. Dorcas pulls Pandora away with her, somehow understanding that Sirius would want to talk to you alone again. 

“We’re on for this weekend,” he says confidently with the same giddy grin that was on his face all meal.

You choke on air. “Excuse me?”

“Regulus gave me permission. Said it was a good idea. Whatever you want to call it. I have his blessing.”

“No. No. No.”

“Yes. Yes. Yes, my darling,” Sirius replies, his eyes lighting up. “We are having a Hogsmeade date and you can’t get out of it.”

“No. No. No. No. No,” you keep repeating.

“Come on, love. It won’t be as bad as you’re making it out to be.”

“I’m not getting my hopes up,” you say before running a hand through your hair with a groan. “I’m not believing you until I hear it myself from Reg.”

“That’s fine. But I talked to him in the library before dinner. We’re in the clear.”

You turn away from Sirius and walk away. Your mind is spinning from the idea of actually going on a real date with Sirius Black. There is no way Regulus actually said it was a good idea. He wouldn’t betray you like that. You’re suddenly at the common room entrance. Your body had gone into autopilot while your thoughts and worries about the possibility of this weekend swirled in your mind. However, worry quickly melts into anger as you descend into the common room and see Regulus lounging on one of the couches. 

“Black!” you yell from where you stand at the bottom of the stairs. “I’m going to murder you!”

He glances over at you. Even from a distance, you can see the slight glimmer of fear in his eyes. You approach the couch with purpose in your steps. You grab his shirt collar and pull his face close to yours.

“What the fuck did you say to your brother?” you hiss. 

“You kept saying no to me. Thought you might like to go on a date with a different pretty bloke. At least he’s occasionally funny,” he teases, although there is a slight tremble in his voice.

You furrow your brows as you drop his collar. 

“You were supposed to say no!” you groan, moving around the couch so you can fall down next to him. “You were the one accusing me of dating him!”

“I’m giving you the chance to find out if you actually like him. See if it does go anywhere beyond him being pretty like me.”

“Regulus. I might actually kill you.”

“Why?”

“Because of you, I’m spending my Saturday in Hogsmeade with your goddamn brother!”

“Yeah and thanks to you, Sirius is now in my debt.”

“No,” you gasp. 

Regulus’ lips twitch upwards. 

“He said he’d do anything.” 

“I hate you.”

He shakes his head. “If it’s really so bad, you can decide what Sirius owes me.”

“I think I should get to decide that anyways.”

tags: @2dloveshp, @yearninglustfully, @made-for-oliverwood, @ilovejamespottersomuch, @hisparentsgallerryy, @itsseaberri, @corawithfanfiction, @devilslittlehelper, @jllyunn, @barnes70stark,

tags: @crowleythesexydemon, @flow33didontsmoke, @navs-bhat, @louweenier, @l0g0phobe,

@ellouisa17, @theendofthematerialgworl, @marina468, @bmyva1entine

[uns4lted]

ɪ'ᴍ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ

pairings: karasu tabito x gn!reader, otoyo eita x gn!reader, kenyu yukimiya x gn! reader tags/warnings: reader and karasu are already together, pre-relationship stage in otoya's and kenyu's! genre: fluff synopsis: the first time the boys realized that they're in love with you. boys being so giddy lol.

── .✦ karasu tabito

It was just a stupid crush, really.

At least, that’s what Karasu told himself in the beginning. Liking you had been easy. You made things fun, kept him entertained with your quick wit and little quirks. Being with you felt like a game he couldn’t lose, but he didn’t think too much about what it all meant. Love? That was too heavy for something that felt so light.

But then there was that moment.

It wasn’t anything big. Just an ordinary evening in his place. You were on the couch, reading a novel, while some random show played in the background. He was sitting on the floor, leaning against the couch with his own phone in hand, pretending to care about whatever it was on the screen.

You sighed, soft and quiet, but enough to pull his attention away. When he glanced up, you weren’t looking at him. Your gaze was distant, you were caught in a thought you weren’t planning to share.

“What’s up?” he asked, his voice casual, not expecting much of an answer.

“Nothing,” you said after a pause, your lips curving into a faint smile. “I just feel lucky, that’s all.”

You didn’t explain, didn’t even look at him for long. Instead, your hand found its way to his dark blue hair, brushing through it in a way that was both careless and comforting. It wasn’t the first time you’d done it, but something about the way you did it this time made his chest feel tight. You were so at ease that being with him was the most natural thing in the world.

He stayed quiet, watching as you went back to your book like you hadn’t just shifted his entire perspective. It wasn’t just what you said—it was how you said it, it wasn’t something you had to think about. Like being grateful for him was as simple as breathing.

He didn’t know what to do with himself. Usually, he’d have some smart remark ready, some way to brush off whatever you were making him feel. But now? He just sat there, staring at you, wondering how he hadn’t seen it before.

He couldn’t pinpoint when the shift had happened. Maybe it was gradual, something that had been building all along. But in that moment, he knew with absolute certainty: this wasn’t just some crush or infatuation. It was deeper than that. You’d become something he didn’t think he needed, something he couldn’t imagine letting go.

Karasu leaned his head back against the couch, closing his eyes for a moment. The warmth of your words lingered, settling into places he didn’t even realize had been empty.

Love wasn’t supposed to sneak up on him like this. Somehow, you’d done it anyway.

── .✦ otoya eita

This goofy womanizer doesn’t do love or some shit.

Otoya wasn’t the type to lose sleep over anyone. Flirting came easy, and leaving things just the way they were made it even easier. He knew how to have a good time, how to make someone laugh or blush, but feelings? Commitment? Nah, that wasn’t his thing. Relationships were messy, and Otoya didn’t stick around long enough to get caught in all that.

Or so he thought.

It was late, the kind of night where the city outside his window had shifted to a low hum. You were over, laid across his bed and flipping through a magazine you’d brought with you. He leaned against the headboard, half-listening to you ramble about something you’d found amusing in the pages.

“Look at this,” you said, your voice bright as you held up the magazine. The glossy picture was of some ridiculous piece of clothing—a neon-green sweater with feathers along the sleeves. “Can you imagine someone actually wearing this?”

Otoya smirked, the corner of his mouth tugging up lazily. “You’d pull it off.”

“Oh, please.” You laughed, the sound light and effortless, but your eyes narrowed in mock suspicion. “You’re just saying that so I won’t roast your fashion choices next.”

“Hey, my style’s flawless, thank you very much,” he shot back, nudging your leg with his foot.

The banter was easy, the kind he thrived on. But he's bothered with the look you gave him, your smile plastered on your lips, the sparkle in your eyes that paused just a moment longer than it should have. That did something to him.

“You’re so full of yourself, Otoya,” you said, shaking your head, but your smile didn’t waver.

“And you love it though,” he retorted, his grin widening.

But as the words hung in the air, he realized how much he wished they were true.

You rolled your eyes and went back to your magazine, oblivious to the way his heart was suddenly pounding harder than it had any right to. He tried to shake it off, but it was no use. His gaze kept drifting back to you—how comfortable you looked.

He didn’t know what was worse: the way you didn’t seem to notice how much of a mess you were making of him, or the fact that he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

When you stretched out your arm, holding the magazine over to him, your fingers brushed his for just a second. It wasn’t anything special, just an ordinary moment. But for Otoya, it felt like everything else faded for a heartbeat.

“You okay?” you asked, tilting your head when he didn’t respond right away.

“Yeah,” he said quickly, his voice too casual. “Just tired.”

That night, after you’d left, Otoya lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The silence felt too loud, and every time he closed his eyes, he saw you. Heard your laugh. Felt the warmth of your smile.

“Damn it,” he muttered, rolling onto his side.

He wasn’t supposed to feel like this. He wasn’t supposed to want someone so badly it hurts. But no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, he couldn’t ignore the truth anymore.

You weren’t just another thrill. You’d become something that had him turning and tossing in bed, wondering how the hell he’d let himself fall this hard.

── .✦ kenyu yukimiya

Kenyu had always been focused. Soccer demanded it, and so did modeling. Juggling both wasn’t easy, but he never complained. He’d chosen this path after all. What he hadn’t chosen or even planned for was you.

At first, he thought your support was just a pure act of kindness. You’d always been there, cheering him on, listening when he talked about the challenges of balancing his passions. But over time, it became clear that you weren’t just being polite. You genuinely cared—about his dreams, his struggles, even the small things he sometimes overlooked himself.

The realization didn’t hit him all at once. It came slowly, building with every little thing you did. Like today.

The two of you were at the mall, your idea after he mentioned needing new clothes for an upcoming shoot. Kenyu wasn’t bad at picking out outfits but you insisted he deserved a second opinion.

“Try this,” you said, holding up a sleek black jacket. “It’s simple but classy. Totally your vibe.”

He took it with a small smile, letting your enthusiasm guide him. You had an eye for these things, and he trusted your judgment more than he cared to admit.

As he stepped out of the fitting room, you were waiting, your expression lighting up when you saw him.

“See? I told you it’d look good,” you said, giving him an approving nod. “The fit’s perfect, and it goes with almost everything.”

He turned to the mirror, studying the way the jacket fit across his shoulders. It was nice, sure, but what stuck with him more was the way you looked at him. You weren’t just proud of the outfit but of him too.

"Didn't know you had such good taste." he said, half-teasing. “Maybe you should be my stylist.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’d love to, but I think your team would have a thing or two to say about that.”

The two of you wandered through the store for a while longer, you occasionally holding up shirts or accessories, and him silently appreciating the way you paid attention to the smallest details. You truly cared about how he felt in them, about making sure he was confident and comfortable.

At some point, as you stood next to him, you were holding up a scarf and debating its practicality, then it hit him.

This wasn’t just about being a fashion guru or supporting his career. It was about you—your thoughtfulness, your sincerity, and the way you noticed and valued even the smallest things about him.

His chest tightened for a moment that he forgot how to speak.

“Kenyu?” you asked, tilting your head at him. “Is everything alright?”

He nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. Just… thanks for helping me with this.”

“Of course,” you said, brushing it off like it was nothing. But to him, it wasn’t nothing.

After everything had settled, the two of you decided to leave the mall. His thoughts kept circling back to the moment. He couldn’t remember when it had begun, but he knew now that this was more than just appreciation for your support.

He is in love with you.

The realization was unexpected, but it left him feeling lighter, as if he’d discovered something he didn’t know he’d been searching for.

likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated! masterlist

[steddieas-shegoes]

what does a barbie mean?

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'hanukkah'

all of my holiday drabbles will be from the bear hugs universe. many of them could probably be read standalone, but will make the most sense and be enjoyed best if you read that first!

rated g | 633 words | no cw | tags: established relationship, fluff

🕎🕎🕎🕎🕎🕎🕎🕎🕎🕎🕎🕎🕎

When Steve picks Rory up from her friend’s birthday party, she’s surprisingly quiet. Usually after parties, she’s bouncing off the walls, blaming the cake and ice cream and soda and goodie bags full of candy.

By the time they get home, Steve’s getting concerned at her silence.

“Hey green bean, you okay?” He asks as they park in the garage. Eddie’s at work for another hour, so he has to do this alone.

He got used to not having to do this stuff alone anymore.

“Mhm,” Rory answers as she unbuckles her seatbelt. It’s not convincing and Steve turns to tell her that. She’s not looking at him, though.

“Do you wanna talk about something? Did anything happen at the party?” Steve asks. He shouldn’t push, but he’s worried that someone was mean to her. Rory can handle herself, but she’s still human, and she’s still a kid, and words can hurt.

“Nothing happened,” she says, but Steve’s not convinced.

“You can tell me anything.”

Rory finally looks up at him. “How come Santa doesn’t bring Sarah and Rebecca presents? They’re good all year.”

Oh. Well, this is definitely better than he expected, and way easier to explain or fix. No one bullied her, she’s just confused.

“You know how Sarah and Rebecca celebrate Hanukkah instead of Christmas?” Rory nods. “Well, for Hanukkah, they don’t need Santa to bring them presents because the family gets all the gifts and they have special meanings to them.”

“What does a new Barbie mean?” Rory asks.

“I think it just means that Sarah is six and wants a Barbie,” Steve laughs.

“But how come they have eight Christmases in a row?”

Steve briefly explains what he knows about Hanukkah, which is not as much as he should know.

And they go inside and look up more information, because Rory is a curious child and Steve never wants her to stop learning.

And when Eddie gets home, she starts telling him all about how Sarah and Rebecca get to light a candle every night and their dad says a prayer and maybe they could light their own Christmas candle on Christmas Eve.

That weekend, they go straight to the library to get a book about the dreidel game, and make a stop at the store to find chocolate coins. Eddie tags along, a little confused about how serious Rory is taking this, but enthusiastic about playing any game that leads to eating chocolate.

The fascination with Hanukkah ends rather abruptly two days later, when she hears Rebecca talking about jelly doughnuts. Rory hates doughnuts with fillings.

Steve doesn’t bother telling her that it’s not a requirement to eat them for Hanukkah, and he gives Eddie a look to stop him before he does.

“I think we should just have Christmas like we always do,” Rory says. Steve nods like he knew this would be her decision the entire time.

Eddie leans over to whisper in his ear. “Was there a chance we were converting to Judaism?”

Steve shakes his head. “She did this with Chinese New Year two years ago and Dia de los Muertos three years ago. She’s just a curious kid.”

Eddie nods, immediately understanding and knowing that she’ll probably find another way to celebrate something next year, and many years after that. He was the same way as a kid, even remembers one year when he learned what Mardi Gras was and made Wayne buy them all dollar store beads and a King Cake at the grocery store.

“Can we keep the candles though?” Rory asks.

“Yeah, those are nice candles,” Eddie looks at Steve to confirm.

“Sure,” Steve laughs, fond as he can be over his two favorite people being so in sync, even with something like this. “We can keep the candles.”

[opiopal]

sometimes, I like to imagine the brothers actually being shown as important to the governmental system in the devildom.

like, yeah we know they’re lords and stuff, and obviously we know that a few of them have some important titles, like Levi being in charge of the navy, but like, what if they were all important??

like, I could imagine Beel being talked to about food production/harvest. maybe he’s not directly in contact with any food ofc, but I feel like he’d be the best to go to about amounts of food and maybe harvest problems, he IS an insect(I think cicada?) so I feel like he’d know a thing or two, imagine him catching an issue with the soil being used to grow a lot of the devildoms food!

And then mams playing a part in finance. which.. prolly sounds silly but hear me out:

yes, he’s in debt, clearly, however what’s something he likes to do??? Count money!! So I could see him doing the math, counting, ect. And being able to spot if there’s something wrong or if something should be changed, and since ofc he cares about cash it would prolly be one of the things he ACTUALLY locks in for. (even though he’s horrible at school, there’s no way he ISNT good at math, idc what’s canon you need math when it comes to money. Also I think it would be insanely funny if he was in a bunch of honors classes for math when he’s still in the starting course for history and junk.) ((yall can tell me how wrong this hc is however I shall not be moved!!))

and I could imagine asmo maybe handling the affairs of sucubi?? And possibly other creatures that travel to and from the human realm for… yk those purposes. He could probably have some part in giving certain people permission to travel up, and possibly travel to the human realm in general! Like if you have any reason at all to go up there you gotta run it past him first.

now with s8n… hear me out. he keeps track of history, he reads documents that are to be published in devildom history books, and he will make SURE only facts will be included, no opinions or rumors or lies. And if he catches something at all either in a WIP document or something that’s already been published, you know it WILL be changed because no one wants to face his wrath.

And ect. Ect. And yk, they’re probably actually respected throughout the devildom. Even if some citizens don’t like them for being angels, there’s no way you WOULDNT pretend to have respect(and maybe a bit of fear) for the people who are basically besties with the future king. Yk? Honestly, I DO love the whole school thing, it’s a familiar trope and it gives more room for things to happen, but you CANT give people titles and status’s like them and NOT utilize it???

also I wanted to add belphie… but I couldn’t think of anything for him that he’d actually be willing to do?? The only thing I could think of for him would be like.. similar to asmo? Like he handles hauntings? Since there’s a large amount of demons that do their work via dreams and during the night. So he’s kind of like an HR..? But like.. DR instead? But I really don’t think he’d gaf about any of that, since yk.. he still kinda hates humans so why would he care if a bunch of demons were haunting&killing them??

Maybe he has an important job, but poor Luci just has to always do it for him since belphie can’t stay awake to save his life.

[yuurei20]

Summarized transcript of the Twisted Radio episode with Heartslabyul (minus Trey) voice actors!! 🥳 (all is just paraphrased, not direct quotes, and Book 7 spoilers removed!)

Highlights ・A lot of industry talk!

Last week’s opening talk that was set was “How do you want to spend New Years?”

🌹 I will have finished work by the 27th so I will be relaxing and listening to this show at home. 

♠️ Are you sure? You’re really going to listen at home?

❤️ Listen with your whole family.

🌹Yes, I will have my kids listen to it, too.

♠️ I’m going to contact you on the 27th. “🌹-san, are you listening?”

🌹 Reads a fan letter: they are being asked about things the cast learned when they first became voice actors.

♠️ Says he never went to a technical school or training school or anything so he just learned on the job. He said he learned that new hires are expected to sit near the door to open and close it for others. He didn’t know this at first and would sit in the middle or the back and other new people would tell him that he needed to be near the door. 

♦️ says he also never had any formal schooling/training and he learned by watching everyone around him, which is how he learned the shorthand that is used in the industry, and everyone talks about how shorthand can vary by person.

❤️ starts talking about an unnamed project that he did with 🌹 (they can’t say what it is). ❤️ says his character used a sword and he became interested in it and went to a trial lesson. What he learned is that that skill is not only about strength. And also the swords are very heavy.

🌹says when he debuted he was given a rehearsal video to watch on VHS instead of DVD, but he didn’t have a VCR so he had to go buy one from a recycle shop specifically to watch the total of two VHSs he would be given before his agency shifted to DVDs.

Next section:

About Riddle

🌹 He can’t speak too kindly or it departs from Riddle’s character. He’s been doing this for 5 years now and he likes everyone, but that much time hasn’t passed in the game yet. So he will be directed to be less kind. He feels that his voice has changed, too, since it has been so long, getting deeper, so the director will ask him to sound younger.

There are also what he calls the “system voices” which are maybe voice lines? He says that since they have to be accessible to everyone no matter what point it is that they start playing the game, he has to record them as how Riddle was at the start of the main story, and how strict he was. He says he has been watching Alice in Wonderland a lot in order to properly portray the angry queen. 

About Ace

❤️ He says that like 🌹 new challenges have been appearing over the past five years. There is also the change in Ace from thinking that he was better than Deuce but then Deuce got his UM first. ❤️ Ace doesn’t know his UM, and ❤️ himself is looking forward to it. He says he really doesn’t have any idea what it is going to be, he hasn’t been told.

♠️ says that fans will often comment on how well ❤️ is able to mimic other voice actors. He asks how ❤️ himself is at imitating people and ❤️ says he’s bad at it.

🌹 says that maybe ❤️ being so good at it is why Ace has been imitating people so much in the game. ♠️ says that if ❤️ was bad at it then they might have started asking him to do it less.

About Deuce

♠️ references how all of Heartslabyul recorded together for Book 1 which never happens for mobile games, and he had never recorded with that many voice actors in the same place for a game before. It was the very start of his career so he was grateful, and now they all record alone.

They talk about Deuce’s struggles in Book 5. ❤️ says he is empathizes a lot with Deuce, so he adapted his line readings in order to be really annoying. 

Now they are talking about Book 7 things, redacted for spoilers 💦

About Cater

♦️ says that Cater hasn’t really changed that much from Book 1, unlike other characters. He is always showing the same mood, with only occasional whispers of his true feelings. He is still treating everyone the same way he always has, and ♦️ 's portrayal hasn’t really changed either.

♦️ says that when he is going through a script he will ask the staff, “…but what is really going on?” beyond the words that he has been given to read. 

More Book 7 things, redacted for spoilers.

About Trey

♣️ isn’t here in person because of scheduling conflicts but he provided a comment to read on air! His comment is on the impression he gets from Trey: a dependable and kind senpai, if you have been brushing your teeth properly. He can seem mature beyond his years because of his supportive role in the dorm, and you can sense the mental strain he is under sometimes. At first glance he can appear untrustworthy but he doesn’t seem to have hidden intentions behind his words, so do not worry.

❤️ talks about Trey in Book 1 and his childhood relationship with Riddle and 🌹 says that the scenes with Trey and Riddle towards the end might have turned out differently if they hadn’t been able to record together.

Comment from ♣️ on voicing Trey: he says he tries to portray Trey’s calmness but it is difficult to do so while simultaneously not making him sound older than 18. Part of Trey’s charm is how quick-witted he is, so he tries to suggest a hidden complexity through his line readings. He reiterates that there aren’t any actual bad intentions though.

♠️ comments on how, since the characters are villains, they all have villainous-looking expressions that they make sometimes, and Trey’s in particular looks very villainous. 

❤️ says it’s funny how ♣️ is actually the youngest voice cast member in Heartslabyul, but the character he is voicing is a calm and collected senpai.

❤️ shares another comment from ♣️ asking how much Trey expects people to brush their teeth before he will be satisfied.

❤️ wonders if Trey and Cater will be graduating and ♠️ says “no I will not let them”

About Main Story

Book 7 talk~

About In-Game Schedule

Lilia birthday, Sam’s New Year Sale, Malleus birthday, Main Story Content~

Twst Fes DVD on sale~

Anime is coming~

End!

[akicine]

it’s you.(Dan Heng x Reader)

From the start, all he’s ever seen was you , from how you bend over in half from how hard you laugh , to how you huddle up like a small child when you cry .

He’s seen all of you , and he never regretted it .

But he doesn’t know how you’ll react to him when he shows you his Vidyahara form , he planned on showing it to you when you were ready , but he didn’t have time for that.

Now you’re staring at each other , with only Jing Yuan in between you two .

He’s didn’t mean for it to happen like this!

He meant to slowly get you used to it , to teach you of his mating rituals, and teach you of his nest , how he’ll coddle you and keep you warm and comfort you like a good mate , if you accepted , he’d let you pet his horns and tail and let you borrow all his items , you don’t need to return them . All he wants is your scent and love .

But he can’t do that . Not when his past was brutally taken from him and forced out into the world .

He’s scared of rejection.

He can’t tell what’s going on in your head , he could usually read you like an open book , like when your eyes lit up like the stars when you tasted the herbal recipe he made . Or when you plaster a smile on your face and force yourself to eat something from the ommi-synthesizer that the trailblazer created .

He’s so scared .

After the fight with Phantyila , He watches you retreat to the astral express . He wants to chase you , to tell you he’s so sorry and as payment he’ll coddle you and wrap you up in his tail and-

“Dan Heng? We have to go , Bailu’s expecting us.”

He opens his eyes (when did he ever close them) to see the trailblazer looking at them with a worried expression , asking” Are you alright?”

With a monotone voice , not letting a trace of remorse out, he replies” Yes , I apologize , we can go now”

He can apologize to you his sweet mate later .

He wishes he could abandon all of his duties here to go back home to you and beg for your forgiveness .

When he finally finishes everything he tiredly opens the door to the archives , to see you huddled in the space beneath his desk , with his chair sideways on the floor with your hands covering your head and a book on the floor

How adorable

With a soft chuckle , so quiet practically nobody could hear ,he asks you,”Why are you underneath my desk?”

You sheepishly look at him before getting out from underneath and tell him ,” I panicked when I heard the door open… You keep saying that the archives is a public space but you still sleep in it and I can’t help but feel like I’m intruding …”

He gives a small smile before picking up the book and see it’s about vidyahara.

You freeze and he looks at you.

You quickly fall to your knees apologizing and asking for his forgiveness, but before you can let the fifth “I’m so sorry “ out of your mouth , he gently places a finger to your lips and asks ,”Why were you looking at this?”

You press your lips together before telling him ,”I wanted to learn more about you , I wouldn’t forgive myself if I offended you in anyway without knowing…”

What a lovely mate he has.

He gently pats your head , but then asks you ,” Aren’t you offended that I’ve kept this a secret from you?”

You give him a puzzled look before telling him ,” It’s still you isn’t it? Why should I be concerned about your past? It’s your decision to tell us anyway.”

His eyes widen , before softening and letting his disguise fall , his tail curling around your ankle unconsciously. “ You don’t mind?”

You give him a reassuring smile , “No, I don’t!”

He gently holds your waist , and nuzzles your cheek , making you laugh before asking him ,” Is this some sort of courting act or something?”

He freezes before looking up at you ,” Did that book talk about mating rituals…”

You laugh before resting your head in the crook of his neck , breathing in and out , “ Yes , it did , and honestly , I again my surprise when I find out most of your actions weren’t innocent gestures , but intentions of courting me.”

You tilt your head up to see the tips of his ears turn red , one of his hands gently burying itself into your hair and massaging your scalp. Feeling merciful today , you let him stay silent and don’t pry any further , bathing in his affection and laying down on his futon .

before you succumb to the temptation of sleep , you whisper to him , “ No matter what , it’s still you . What you’ve done has already happened, and even then it was your incarnation who had sinned , not you . You were just a child . ”

You give him a tired smile , before burying your head into his neck and snuggling deeper into his arms , letting his warmth soak into your bones .

When he hears your breathing even out , he sighs and gently noses at your scalp , kissing the crown of your head .

What a lovely mate he has.

[olailamajnoon]

Bruce: *reads The Song of Achilles*

Bruce: *snorts* What a load of mooning crap. I can't believe I spent three afternoons on this book.

Later:

Bruce: *sees Clark*

Bruce, thinking: When he dies, all things soft and beautiful and bright will be buried with him

Clark: *turns around* Hey Bruce!

Bruce (in his head): I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth.

Clark: You okay, Bruce?

Bruce, touching Clark: Your hair never quite lies flat, here. I don’t think I’ve ever told you how I like it.

Clark: uhhh....

Clark: So what have you been up to, lately?

Bruce, murmuring: I think I would know you in death, at the end of the world.

Clark:...

Clark: Is that Madeline Miller?

Bruce:...

Bruce: no

Clark: *laughing heartily* When I read it, I thought of you too!

Bruce: And you don't think that's the slightest bit gay.

Clark: *shrugs* If I was going to be gay, I would much rather it be with you.

Bruce: *looks stunned*

Clark: *smiles* You kissed me at Christmas. I might return the favor next time we're around some mistletoe.

Bruce: That might be a year from now.

Clark: *takes out mistletoe from one of his suit pockets*

Clark: Make your own luck, right?

Bruce, looking at the mistletoe: I'm not entirely comfortable with this.

Clark: Neither am I.

Bruce: I'm not a homophobe.

Clark: Neither am I.

Bruce: It's just something scary, is all.

Clark, shrugging: I'm sure Lois and Selina will understand, if you and I spend more time together. We don't have to do anything, we can take it slow. Or not "take" it at all. It's your choice.

Bruce: How are you braver than me? I'm such a coward. Always running from my feelings.

Clark: How can I explain, that when I am brave, it is due to you?

Bruce, looking up: I would rather die, Clark, than be hurt by you.

Clark, coming closer: I. Will never. Hurt you, Bruce Wayne.

Bruce, closing his eyes: Damn you. I am this close to running away to my room like some hysteric.

Clark: It's not being a hysteric to feel too much and be overwhelmed by that feeling.

Bruce: I am NOT overwhelmed!

Clark, smiling: Hey hey hey. We'll take it at your speed, okay? No expectations. No deadlines.

Bruce: Clark I feel like a teenager discovering himself for the very first time.

Clark: *smiling* We both dress like teenagers, Bruce. Is it a surprise that we occasionally act like them?

Bruce: You know what I was thinking? Thank god it's just Clark, and not someone whose opinion I actually have to worry about.

Clark: *hesitates*

Bruce: But now I realize, the only one in the League whose opinions I give a shit about, is you.

Clark: *goes pink*

Bruce: *picks at Clark's sleeve* You wanna come to my room? We can play GTA 6 like some actual brain dead teenagers.

Clark: Wait. GTA 6 is out? What?

Bruce: *winks* Not technically it isn't. But things tend to make exceptions for me.

Clark: You bastard! How long have you had it?

Bruce: Not very long, a couple of months?

Clark: *high pitched* Months? You've had it for months?

Bruce: Well...yeah?

Clark: Now I'm rethinking our starstruck romance. The fact that you would keep such an important secret from me...

Bruce: You really ARE a teenager, Kent. *strides away*

Clark, trailing after him: Can I play or was that an empty promise to lure me to your den?

Bruce: Forget it! I'm rescinding the offer.

Clark: No please daddy I'll be good...

[snoopychris]

incomplete

in which... cheerleader!reader needs matt's help and finds out the sad truth about his situation

warnings: no use of y/n (the name sweetie is used in place of y/n for my own sake), random names used for friends

an incomplete. glancing down at the rubric to your most recent science project, you couldnt believe what you were reading on your paper. nick was looking over your shoulder, his mouth dropped wide open. “sweetie… an incomplete means you can’t cheer tonight…” he whispers, the multiple pairs of eyes on your paper still widened to their full potential. you take a second to look up, and become painfully aware of the situations and all of your friends reactions to it. chris’ parted lips, sadie’s hand over her mouth, nate running his fingers through his hair, nick’s mouth still wide open, and claire’s fingers nervously fiddling with her necklace. you swallow for a moment before peeking at your phone.

10:48 am. there was still another 27 minutes left of lunch. 27 minutes worth of convincing your science teacher to please, please, please, give you another chance. you do the only thing you can possibly think of. with a swift grab of the paper sitting on your cafeteria table and your tote bag, you book it upstairs to Mr. Harrison’s science room. even though its lunch, and a normal teacher would take this 45 minute break to leave the school for as long as possible, Mr. Harrison always stayed in case any students needed him for any reason at all. upon entrance to the classroom, you get an immediate explanation, without even asking any questions. 

“yes sweetie,  i know its an incomplete. but your project was incomplete. you never got it peer reviewed.” Mr. Harrison tells you from his desk, sending you a look. you let out a small huff and part of you is tempted to kick your feet and begin throwing a tantrum like a toddler, but you decide to instead act like an adult. you slowly make your way towards the desk, setting your paper down. your voice is quiet when you speak, but its still intelligible. “you know that not a single one of my friends is capable of peer reviewing an AP biology project. we won’t even meet in class again until monday so… i cant cheer tonight?” you let out a small exhale and accept defeat before you notice your teachers pen pointed behind you. you slowly turn and come face to face with the same person who had been stuck in your mind for a good while now. “matt can peer review your project.” you hear from behind you, causing matt’s eyes to shoot up and look at you, previously unaware of the situation that had been going on in front of him. you gently swallow as you take a seat in front of matt, keeping your paper nearby. your heart almost stops when he takes his airpod out to give you his utmost attention. 

his breath hitches in his throat when he realizes that he’s not dreaming and that this is all really happening, you’re sitting in front of him in your cheer uniform that hugs your curves in all the right place, and you need him. “hi matt,” you smile, your lips parting into a genuine smile. he doesn’t mean to do it, but he pauses for a moment before replying. “hey… i can um..you need a peer review i take it?” he whispers, his voice scratchy as if he hadnt talked all day, mostly because he hadn’t. without waiting for a response, he grabs the paper from besides you and begins marking it up with his pen. you watch intensely as he flips through the pages full of words, diagrams, keys, and descriptions and makes note of the things you did wrong. while waiting, you take notice of his phone, adjourned with a clear case and a pokemon card. “charizard is cool and all but… piplup was always my personal favorite.” you whisper, tucking your hair behind your ears. the speed in which matt’s eyes meet yours is ridiculously fast before his vision moves to the pokemon card in his phone case. he blinks a few times before realizing youre trying to start up a conversation. “yeah no… piplups cool. i switch it out sometimes. wouldn't say that charizard's my favorite either but chris told me that this card is really cool looking.” he smiles, continuing to mark up the paper besides him. you chuckle quietly before furrowing your brows. “why are you in here alone?” you whisper, turning your head in realization that aside from your teacher, matt had been the only person in the room before you arrived. when he replies, you feel your heart shatter into a million pieces. “i um… got no friends really. Lucas is just good company i guess.” “lucas?” you question, not knowing of anybody in the school with the name. a throat is cleared behind you, and when you turn, you learn that matt is on a first name basis with the biology teacher. after letting out a hum in response, you frown and begin to pick at your fingernails. when matt hands your project back to you, a relieved exhale leaves your mouth. the project is rushed over to the teacher’s desk, where your previous incomplete is replaced by a B+. an A was never the goal, you really only needed at least a C. you get a nod of approval from him, knowing that you’ll be able to cheer later that night. 

once you gather your very few belongings, you begin making your way to the cafeteria before noticing the 18 minutes you have left of lunch. it would be enough time to go through at least 5 or 6 different conversations with chris and the rest of your friends, but you hesitate for a moment before turning back around into the science classroom. you take a seat across from matt once more, let out a small smile, tuck your hair once more, and lick your lips before speaking. “so... who is your favorite pokemon?” a smile creeps onto matt’s face, and even though Mr. Harrison can feel the young boy’s heart explode from across the room, you somehow remain oblivious.

๋࣭⭑ 𖤘(reply or message me to be added!): @ifwdominicfike @frankoceanfanpage @mattssslutbby @sophand4n4 @matthewsturnsgf @mattsbrat

๋࣭⭑ dividers by @bernardsbendystraws

๋࣭⭑ a/n: one more because i truly don't know when i'll be able to post again after sunday and i also have like nothing prepared! my inbox will remain open if there's any requests or if anybody wants to share thoughts about this au i already love so dearly. love you all kiss kiss!

-gen

[smutszn]

Meeting at the bookstore

the first time you see luigi, you're at the hawaii public library returning your overdue books. you think "that guy is really attractive, but not my type." he looks like a total surfer bro. cute, but a bro. probably works in finance and is on his eat, pray, love trip in hawaii

next weekend, your friend wants to get a book to read on the beach. you love bookstores, so of course you say yes. to your surprise, you see the surfer guy from the library there again. you recognize him because of his distinctive eyebrows and his confident aura.

you make eyes with him, and he seems to have a look of recognition too. he's cute, you can't help but notice, but you're too chicken to do anything. did he look at me? you second guess yourself. just when you think it's all in your head, he puts down the book he was looking at and joins you by the contemporary fiction section, standing right next to you.

"hi, what are you reading?"

you flip over the book. kind of stunned and not even sure what you were looking at. "intermezzo, this new sally rooney book. i'm a big fan of her books."

"i've actually read her other books too," he chimes in.

you're a bit surprised, but of course he would. you feel yourself heating up. you're not used to this sort of attention. you wonder where your friend is.

"are you going to get it?," he asks

"i'm only allowing myself to buy one book, otherwise i'll be poor," you laugh. "so...no. i have my eye on "the backyard birds chronicles" by amy tan. i might get intermezzo from the library when they have it in stock." you show him the book that's by your side.

"well, i'm going to get it," he smiles sunnily. "so who can i thank for making a good book suggestion?"

"y/n," you extend your hand. "nice to meet you"

he shakes it. he has a nice firm shake.

"nice to meet you too, hopefully i'll see you around," he flashes a charming smile, winks and goes to the cash register.

that was a really nice encounter, you think. it was light-hearted, fun. flirtatious? would be nice to have more of that.

you go look for your friend. she's already rung up and waiting for you, flipping through her purchase, fourth wing.

"oh y/n," she says as you two are walking to the beach, "i forgot to tell you, but this cute guy with curly dark hair gave me this book to give to you. i asked him if he was sure this was for you and he said your name, so i figured i should just take it."

it's the copy of intermezzo you left on the table. your jaw drops.

you're at the beach, excited to dive into a new book. you look at "the backyard bird chronicles" but then decide against it. as a gift to the mystery boy, you'll read intermezzo first.

you open the book and on the inside cover you see scrawled

you never asked me my name. it's luigi. and you never asked me my phone number. call me maybe?

Who wants to continue my fluff?

[spiderfunkz]

THE APARTMENT WE WON'T SHARE

peter parker x reader

cw: post-nwh, angst no comfort, in this universe everyone forgets tasm!peter, everyone including his own partner. inspired by the song of the title.

it's peter's first christmas alone. he's undoubtedly sad, it would be heartbreaking for you to see him like this, thankfully you will never get the chance to. that's what peter thinks, he's grateful for that. that you will never have to see him in the condition he's always in ever again.

a part of him wants to meet again. to suddenly bump into each other on the subway, to accidentally grab the same book in the library— he hopes to feel the spark again. to see your eyes flicker in familiarity. a sense of déjà vu. as if in another timeline, you were meant to be.

it was supposed to be this timeline. he's supposed to be in your arms right now, opening presents together. he's supposed to give you a gift he's been saving for all year. a perfect present. now it sits, collecting dust on the corner of his room.

he's tried his best to come to terms with it. but gosh, it hurts. he's been on a new date, a couple dates, actually. but he stopped after the third one. he realized that he was trying to find you in every person he meets. nobody can compete, he couldn't find the spark. no eyes shined like yours, no personality was as big as yours, no lashes fluttered like yours. no one was you. he wanted you, not someone like you.

he came close though. to you.

in a café, it was you and peter's spot. he believes that you were there because an essence of him still lingers. that's what he tells himself. you were in your favorite sweater, your hair was beautiful, neat like always. you held your usual order. before peter leaves he saw something, something that reassured him this was for the best.

you were with someone else.

he was hoping to catch you glance at him, or for you to notice him, even if it meant just for a second. but you didn't. your smile was so wide, you laughed at a joke. a joke peter thought he would make. and then you left. stepping out of the café and out of his life. to make it worse. with someone new.

every time he patrols he always hopes to see you. he thinks this is just pure madness, obsession. but he also thinks that this is him genuinely missing you, not being able to move on from someone who is perfect. his life was near perfection with you. his heart is unable to do continue without you, he's trying.

and on christmas, today, he saw you. in apartment building, the moonlight highlighted you, as if it was a cruel reminder from the universe that he will never see that light in his life ever again. he was so focused he tripped on the edge of rooftop.

as he caught his feet, he thought this was a christmas miracle, but then he realized,

it was the same apartment building you two toured together. you gave an idea to peter that the two of you should share an apartment. to have a place of your own, you've always wanted that. peter wanted to, but you were the most excited about it. to have a roommate that is also your boyfriend.

now you stayed there. with no peter. he speculated that you gave the same idea, just to another person. the christmas tree was glowing, the lights were sparkly, you exchanged gifts, and peter finally accepts the fact that he was never really in your life.

the dates you two went; the rooftop parties, the bookstore-reading days, movie nights, the trips to europe that never happened— all never truly existed. maybe not to you, but only to peter. the promises, his photographs, all poof! gone.

it's been a year. it feels so empty. colder than usual.

you seemed warm. he knows it. now you sit, at the apartment you will never share with peter. he swings away, the mask is suffocating. he comes back to his apartment. it's cold, unfurnished. only a simple bed, table, and a chair. he was never good at interior work. however you were. you were great.

what lies on his table is cold takeaway, one fork— he doesn't know where the spoon went, coffee he left untouched, and one single polaroid of you, a clear one, where you were still very seen. the one he took when he fought his old enemies with his brothers. the rest were gone, well.. not really. it was just oddly faded. a silhouette of you is there, but it was just the presence of your absence.

peter kept everything. how unfortunate. he wanted to call, to reach out first, but never did. he shouldn't. there was no one to talk about this to, no one. he thinks that before reaching out, he should come to terms with it. fully.

he wishes you a merry christmas. he hopes you get the message. heart to heart. he hopes there's still a small chance.

a/n: should i make this a mini series?

[shinysobi]

pretty u

summary: when joshua, your best friend gets engaged, you can't help but feel as though you're missing out on something important. jihoon, your other best friend, kindly offers to set you up with one of his many friends. chaos ensues, seungkwan is an observer who knows everything, and unfortunately, mingyu is a hapless victim.

pairing: woozi x fem!reader

genre: crack, fluff, angst, light smut

word count: 11k~ish (NOW YOU SEE WHY IT TOOK ME SO LONG)

warnings: alcohol consumption, general warnings apply,

a/n: this is the final chapter, a doozy because i dragged my feet instead of completing it. but i wanted to finish this for the new years, and so, here we are, a belated merry christmas present from me to you, and hopefully i can write more in 2025 a/n 2: comments and reblogs are always much appreciated, and i'd like to know your thoughts about this story heheheh

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4

Chapter 4

Its funny, how easy it is, to slip into habits. Old habits, ones that have seeped into your routine over time. I wake up, check my phone for emails. I make coffee, check my phone for emails. I get dressed for work, check my phone for emails. On weekends, I do chores leftover from the week, read books I have to write reviews of.

I would most certainly not be taking a nap in the middle of a Saturday with Lee Jihoon. I would not be lying down in my bed, lying next to, nay, cuddled up with, Lee Jihoon. If anyone had told me, even a few hours ago, that I would be snuggled up with Lee Jihoon, my best friend since university. Wait. Can we even call ourselves friends?

“Jihoon.” I whisper, elbowing him in the ribs. “Jihoon.”

“Mm, five more minutes,” he mutters, “I’ll get up then.”

“Hey, wasn’t your meeting with the producers this afternoon?” I ask, “you’ll be getting in a world of trouble because you didn’t show up.”

“I won’t be getting in any trouble.” Jihoon replies, voice thick with sleep, “I’m the terrible child of the company. They’ll keep me around as long as I make good songs for them, they’ll change meeting times when I ask them to. They’ll do anything as long as I’m happy.”

“You’re taking advantage of your position,” I smile, shifting closer to him, “anyone would think you have a horrible work ethic.”

“It’s all okay when it’s regarding my—wait, what are we?” Jihoon sits up in the bed, still half-dressed, “are we still friends?”

“Depends. Do you kiss your friends?” I sit up, facing him, “then we’re friends. Otherwise, we’re not.”

Jihoon pulls a face, “I just imagined kissing one of the boys. Ew, no, never.”

“Then I suppose we aren’t friends anymore.” I smile, leaning in, “we’re something else, then.”

“Can I call you my girlfriend yet, or no?”

I laugh. From this angle, his face is soft, so soft it feels as though he’ll evaporate if I try to touch him, “depends. Do you kiss your girlfriends?”

Jihoon grins, pressing his lips to mine, “all the time.”

“M-hmm,” I smile, touching his cheeks, soft and pliable underneath my fingers, “Woozi, aren’t you being a little presumptuous? All the time? What do you mean all the time?”

He pulls a face, “I swear to god, if you start some bullshit again, I’m going to break up with you.”

“And we’ve been together for what, three hours? That has got to be a new record, even for you, Jihoon.” I say, laughing as Jihoon tackles me to the pillows, “not to mention you’ve been pining over me for the past what—six, years, since you went for your military service. Imagine liking someone for that long, and not telling anyone about it.”

“At least I had the decency to keep it to myself like a normal adult,” Jihoon replies, “you on the other hand, you were a wreck after a week. Imagine being that down bad over a man. You should be repulsed by yourself. What would Andrea Dworkin say?”

“And that’s it, we’ve had a good run, bye,” I begin, trying to get out of bed, but Jihoon stops me, “let me go. You said yourself that I should be repulsed because I like you.”

“Three hours and five minutes,” Jihoon replies, “not bad at all, given that two of them were spent sleeping.”

“Really, who the fuck sleeps after getting together with someone? It’s like, violating the first ethics of relationships,” I grumble, “imagine kissing your best friend, who’s now your boyfriend, who then proceeds to take a nap in your bed? Who would do that?”

“Were you disappointed?” Jihoon asks, his expression changing to sly, “were you expecting something else?”

I roll my eyes, struggling to get out of his grip, but unfortunately, all the hours Jihoon has put in the gym has now created a reality where I can no longer get out of his grip, “no, I wasn’t, I was just expecting you to not snore on me after kissing me in my living room.”

His face falls, and he is about to say something, when my phone rings loudly, making me jump, “what the hell? Why is your ringtone so loud?”

“It’s not!” I reply, “I just forgot to switch it back to silent after coming back home today. I had it set on full volume last night. And give that to me.” I swipe to accept the call,  and soon enough, Jeonghan’s voice floats through the speakers.

“How are you two doing?” Jeonghan asks, and I stare at Jihoon, who seems to be equally confused as me.

“Jihoon said he was going to meet you, I figured that you two might have finally gotten your shits together,” he clarifies, “I’m not that old, nor do I have enough sense to stay out of your affairs.”

“Yes, yes, hyung, you’re the nosiest of us all,” Jihoon grumbles from next to me, “yes, we’re doing fine, thank you very much.”

“Great!” I can hear the barely-concealed glee in his voice, “Chan, tell the rest of the guys to pay up. I’m the only one who guessed correctly that they were going to get together by today.”

“Pay up—wait, hyung, you were betting on my love life?” Jihoon screeches, “why the hell would you do that?”

“I’ve seen and heard you pine over her for the past eight years, you nitwit, of course, I’m going to host a betting pool for when you finally get together. Not to mention, you’ve just made me an entirely obscene amount of money, which I’m going to spend happily.”

“Wait, if you knew Jihoon was going to come to see me, why did you take so long to call us?”

“I was being polite.”

“For what?”

“Well, if you two were having sex, I would not like to be calling in the middle of it now, would I?” he giggles even as Jihoon and I both let out twin gasps of surprise, “What? Did you not put years of sexual tension into use?”

“That’s inappropriate, hyung.”

“So, you haven’t.”

“Oppa!”

“Fine, fine, I’ll stop.” Jeonghan lets out one final demonic cackle (still cannot believe I called him my angel once), “I’ll let you two lovebirds be together. Oh, and Soonyoung told me to tell you, Jihoon, that he’ll take care of the meeting today. You can take a day off once in a while.”

“Thanks, hyung, I’ll go back to sleeping,” Jihoon mutters, handing the phone over to me and immediately burrowing himself in the sheets to get some more sleep.

“I’ll make myself scarce then, shall I?”

“Wait, oppa,” I say, thinking very hard, “you did this on purpose didn’t you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I mean the whole situation. You were the one who kept telling me about how long Jihoon has liked me for, and you were the one who I called before Jihoon took the phone away from you and talked to me.” My voice takes on an accusatory note, “Yoon Jeonghan, did you manipulate me and Jihoon into confessing so that you could win a bet?”

“I will neither confirm nor deny that accusation.”

“So, you did.” I stand up from the bed, ignoring Jihoon, who’s already snoring softly, “Yoon Jeonghan, you better give us a share of the pool.”

Jeonghan laughs on the other end of the phone, “fine, fine, I will. I’ll take you and Jihoon out for samgyeopsal this week. Cool?”

“Just so you know, while we both will be there, I still don’t appreciate this.”

“Come on, writer,” Jeonghan wheedles, “anyone could see that you were both circling each other for half a decade. It was exhausting to watch, you know.”

“Fuck you.”

“Love you too!” he hangs up, and I go back to bed, sidling up to Jihoon, who hugs me in his sleep. Its nice, being this way. I can pretend that the world is just the two of us, in my bed, sleeping in the afternoon.

Jihoon doesn’t look lonely anymore. In fact, he looks happy, smiling even in his sleep. When was the last time I saw him like that? A memory floats up to my mind, of another afternoon, spent in Jihoon’s  flat, after we’d all finished giving the final exams. Jihoon had a job lined up with a production company, and I was about to start working with an online fashion magazine. Joshua was in graduate school, and everything was fine. We spent that one afternoon watching trashy soap operas on Netflix, drank too much booze and smoked too many cigarettes, and finally, just before we went to sleep, I could swear I saw a ghost of a smile on Jihoon’s face.

Until a week later, when his enlistment notice came, and I never saw that smile again. But now it is there, and I can reach out and touch him, and I can see his face relax even more under my touch, as if Jihoon had been craving it, even in his denial. I probably have, even after so long. Years of wondering ‘what if’ and now, finally, it’s here.

“Jihoon,” I whisper, “Jihoon.���

“What?” he burrows further into the blankets, “I’m cold now.”

“Jeonghan kind of manipulated us both into getting together.”

“He did?” Jihoon mumbles, “good for him, I now have a girlfriend.”

—

Jihoon wakes up in the middle of the evening, and shakes me awake too, because he’s hungry and I have to cook for him.

“I’m the one who told you about this apartment, so you kind of owe me,” he says, perched on a stool, “and no ramen, please. I’ve been living on that for so long I know all flavours that are there, and the convenience store guy looks at me strangely whenever I go inside.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” I mutter, chopping up vegetables to put in a stew, “I don’t have anything in the house, so you’re going to have to be happy with a random stew of things I found lying in the fridge.”

“That’s fine.” He replies, “at least I don’t have to starve.”

“Yes, Mr Woozi, I appreciate the concern, now wash the rice.”

Lunch (dinner? Linner?) is kimchi stew, with old vegetables and things that were almost going bad, but he eats it like it’s a Michelin-starred restaurant meal. Jihoon is not really picky: I’ve seen him eat everything from day-old scraps to a croissant that was growing mould on it (the less said about that the better) but us eating in my kitchen, this feels strangely domestic to me, in a way that’s almost scary.

“Are you scared?” Jihoon asks, spooning up rice into his mouth, “don’t worry, I’m scared too.”

I stare at him, “have you become psychic, by any chance? Do you want to change your profession to shaman?”

“I’d be a shitty shaman either way,” he replies, “the only person I know how to read well is you. You have that look on your face, so I asked.”

“What look?”

“The look that you get when you’re terrified of something, but you also want to do it.”

“I don’t have a look.”

Jihoon stares at me, “You totally do, I know it; it’s the same look you got when you attempted to take that class on Psychoanalysis in second year.”

“I sucked at it.”

“That’s not the point. The point is, you were terrified, but you also wanted to do it, I know that look. You might think you’re fooling people, and you can, but the last person you can fool is me; Joshua, to an extent, but I doubt he’s made a hobby of reading your every expression over a period of eight years.”

I make a face. Jihoon notices, because of course he does, “that’s the face you make when you don’t like what the other person is saying, but you know that they’re right.”

“That’s unfair, Jihoon.”

“Is it? I’ve known you for so long, of course I should know about your expressions.” He smiles, before leaning over to kiss me on the cheek, “that’s the expression you make when your surprised.”

“Then don’t fucking surprise me!” I press a hand to my cheek, “what was the reason for that?”

“Nothing, just making sure I didn’t dream up the last few hours, and that I can really kiss you whenever I feel like it.”

“I have to want it too, you know. Also, when did you get so keen on physical affection? I’ve literally never seen you be this way with anyone before.’

He shrugs, “I wasn’t pining over those people for years, so that’s there, too.”

I don’t know what to say to this, so I just laugh at his words, “Jihoon, aren’t you being a bit hard on them?”

“On who?”

“The women you’ve dated. The people I’ve dated. Like it or not, they are a part of us. They’ve made us into the kind of people we are today.” I take a sip of the soup, “would you have asked me out if we were in university? Or after you came back from the military?”

He pauses to think about it, chewing thoughtfully on a piece of kimchi, “probably not.”

“And even if you did, we would have hated each other, and broken up in a week. So, let’s not talk about the people who have given a part of their lives to us.”

Jihoon nods, “understood. Does this mean you’re going to invite your exes to your wedding?”

I laugh, “not to that extent, no, but I will respect them for their time and affection that they gave to me because for better or for worse, they were a part of who I was, before I fell in love with you.”

“Fell in love?” Jihoon gasps, “are you saying you’re in love with me?”

“As if this was even part of the question. Of course I’m in love with you.” I take a deep breath, standing up to clear out the remnants of dinner, “I don’t know how to say this properly but, I’ve loved you all throughout the time I’ve known you. As a friend, as a lover, as my family here in Seoul. I’ve loved you all the time. At the risk of sounding cringe, there has not been a time when I haven’t been full of love for you. Even if it didn’t seem that way, I’ve loved you for years.”

Jihoon doesn’t say anything, instead wraps me into a hug, “have you been taking lessons on how to deliver a speech?”

“Why, yes, I have.”

He giggles, which is a rare sound coming from him, “I’ve always loved you too. Even if I didn’t show it, even if I didn’t express it well, I have loved you.”

I kiss him, “sorry for taking all this time to realise my feelings.”

He shakes his head, “no, don’t be sorry for that. The way you are, the way you will be, I’ll always love you.”

—

I text Eunseo in the evening, asking her to meet me for coffee. Joshua and Jihoon are both too busy for brunch, so I have some time to burn. Eunseo texts me back within minutes, eagerly agreeing to meet me. I text her the name of the same café the three of us go to for brunch.

“You look great,” Eunseo says as soon as I walk in, “did something great happen?”

I stare at her. She’s dressed to go out this morning, wearing a light green dress under a heavy brown coat. In comparison, I’m wearing my office pants and a white shirt. We’re dressed miles apart. Saying that I look good is almost an insult.

But Eunseo doesn’t insult anyone, even knowingly, so I take my seat and say, “you’re joking.”

“No, not at all,” she replies, “you’ve got this glow that I cannot really put my finger on. It seems as though something great happened in the past few days.”

“Well, I did begin seeing Jihoon, so,” I shrug, but Eunseo is already clapping her hands in joy, “what? What’s going on?”

“Wait, I have to tell Joshua to come meet us,” she chirps, “I’m not saying anything until he comes back, but I’m so happy for you, you have no idea.”

Joshua, who was looking at suits in the morning, comes to the café within minutes, by which we already have ordered a bunch of things. He comes in looking harried, and the first thing he says, “I thought this was an emergency! You texted me she was dying!”

Eunseo laughs, “that was the only way to get your attention, josh, I’m so sorry.” Her expression shows that she isn’t sorry at all.

“No, you’re not,” Joshua sits down on the chairs, “you’re not sorry at all, Eunseo.”

They share a sweet moment, and normally, I’d pull a face and call them cringe, but today, I just don’t feel like it. maybe it’s the hormones of being in a relationship, or maybe I’m finally growing soft around the edges, but I think, what would happen if I text Jihoon to come see us right now? He’d probably scowl and refuse, but I can’t help but imagine the two of us in place of Joshua and Eunseo, sharing a nice moment. This is it; I think to myself, this is the moment you realise you’ve gone entirely crazy because of a man.

“Anyway,” I say loudly, interrupting the two of them, “Eunseo called you here because I have an announcement.”

Joshua stares at the two of us, “is she dying?”

“No! What the fuck, Joshua, I’m not dying!” I say, irritated by this line of conversation, “as I was telling Eunseo, I’m not dying, I just began seeing Jihoon.”

“But you can see him all the time,” Joshua says, still clueless as ever.

“Romantically. Joshua, romantically. We’re dating.” I say, rolling my eyes.

Joshua stares at me, speechless for a whole ten seconds, before he starts laughing, “finally. Cannot believe I had to endure all those years of Jihoon pining over you and you dancing around him because you wanted to avoid your own feelings.” He turns to Eunseo, who looks equal parts disgusted and horrified, “they are probably two of the most obvious people in existence.”

I narrow my eyes, “you both knew about this? And no one told me?”

To her credit, Eunseo looks apologetic, “I just didn’t want to burden you with the knowledge that we all were aware of the dynamics between you and Jihoon; you seemed like you were still figuring it out, and Jihoon didn’t seem like he wanted anyone else to know. But he’s right, you know. You two were seriously the most obvious people in the world.”

I want the earth to split up and swallow me whole, right at this moment. What do you mean we were the most obvious people in the whole world? “What do you mean we were the most obvious people in the whole world?” I wasn’t even aware that Jihoon had feelings for me until a few months ago! “I wasn’t even aware of my own feelings until very recently.”

Before Eunseo can reply to my statement, her phone rings, and she makes a face before picking it up, saying, “it’s the realtor. He is supposed to meet us later in the week.”

Joshua pulls an identical face, and not for the first time since they started dating, I wonder why it is that all couples start to look alike after a few years of being together. However, for the first time, I also wonder how Jihoon and I would look like after a few years together. Would we be annoying, like Joshua and Eunseo? Or would we be one of those couples who always fought and broke up and patched up, all within the span of a week, like those people in university? But that would mean I’d have to spend enough time with Jihoon, becoming one of those couples.

“You’re putting on your thinking face,” Joshua says, bringing me out of my reverie, “it’s the expression you make whenever you’re imagining something.”

“I don’t do that,” I defend reflexively, but I know he’s true, simply because this is not the first time someone has told me about my ‘thinking face’. It is, however, the first time that someone has called me out when I was thinking about Jihoon. “What were you saying?”

“Eunseo just left to take the call from the realtor,” Joshua smiles, “I must say, I saw this coming from a mile away.”

I scowl, “what do you mean you saw this coming from a mile away? I’m not someone who’s that predictable, am I?”

“Well, it is true. You are kind of predictable,” Joshua shrugs, “you’ve been wearing the same clothes since university, you eat the same ten dishes all the time, and you even like the same kind of side dishes. You’re very predictable.”

I sigh, “yes, fine, I’m predictable. Still doesn’t mean you saw this coming from a mile away.”

“Have you seen the way you and Jihoon behave around each other? No matter how much you say that you can’t stand the sight of the other person, Jihoon cares about you the most. He drops everything at a moment’s notice to come to your aid. You do the same thing too, it’s just that you aren’t as forthcoming about it as him.”

“Was that why you were behaving weirdly on that night?”

“What night?” Joshua seems to have entirely forgotten that one Sunday, except it is ingrained into my mind like its just yesterday, “I don’t remember anything.”

“The night that you proposed to Eunseo,” I say, trying my best to not sound frustrated, “when Jihoon told you he was helping me hook up with people, you reacted really strangely.”

“Oh, yes, I did,” Joshua looks sheepish, “I shouldn’t have overreacted like that, but it was very confusing for me.”

“Confusing?”

“Imagine one of your closest friends, who has been pining over another one of your closest friends, telling you that he is helping the girl he has had a crush on for the past six years, in getting her a boyfriend. How would you feel about that?”

“Um, well,” I pause on it, “I’d think my friend was stupid.”

“That’s it!” Joshua yells, “see how it was confusing for me? all throughout university I thought Jihoon had a crush on you, but all of a sudden, after years as your friend,  he’s trying to set you up with other men? I thought he was being an idiot.”

“Well, I told him he shouldn’t be doing that,” I grumble, “he didn’t even listen to me and went and blabbed to you about how he was going to set me up with one of the boys.”

“You were the one who made that comment about Mingyu,” Joshua accuses, “I’d better not see you make any excuses for yourself. And what does ‘platonically motorboat’  even mean?”

“It means you would like to motorboat someone, but platonically, not romantically,” Eunseo says, walking into the café, “babe, the realtor wants to see us today, if we can.”

“Really? He wants to meet us today? After changing the date so many times?” Joshua groans, “never mind. We should be glad he’s meeting us poor people, who just want to buy a newlywed home.”

“You should be glad he’s meeting you at all,” I say, gesturing for the check, “if I ever saw a credit score as bad as yours’, I’d refuse to give you any credit, let alone show you houses.”

Both of them pull identical scowls, “yes, yes, showing off your excellent credit, go on,” Joshua says, “I just know you bragged all about it to Jihoon already.”

“You’re not wrong,” I reply, grinning, “but Jihoon said I should brag to others too, so I’m bragging to you.”

“Never mind her babe,” Eunseo puts her hands over Joshua’s ears, “she doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

The three of us walk out into the early winter morning, shivering in the cold. Joshua and Eunseo promptly set off in a taxi to go meet their realtor, while I make my way to my apartment, suppressing my urge to text Jihoon about his work. I’ve been endlessly curious about his process ever since university, but the only times he’s allowed me into the studio I’ve either fallen asleep within ten minutes of being there, or we had conversations about things that were not related to his music production. On the other hand, if I text him right now, badgering him about his work, I will seem like either a. an insane, clingy girlfriend, or b. a stupid, clingy girlfriend. In both cases, Jihoon is going to get sick of me so fast, he’s going to break a record with how fast he’s going to dump me.

In university, I was part of the journalism club, and on the first group outing, one of the seniors, drunk off of one too many soju cocktails, had taken the first-years aside and talked about how one should behave when in a relationship. “Now listen,” she had said, “never, I repeat, never, let him know that you’re into him, especially in the first few months of dating. The less he knows about your real feelings, the better.”

“But sunbae,” one of my freshman year-mates had raised her hand, “what happens if your boyfriend gets to know how much you like him in the first few months of the relationship?”

The senior had sighed, before saying, “you’ve got to understand why men like women. They don’t like the person we actually are; they like the chase. They like the person we pretend to be when we start dating them for the first time. Therefore, unless you’re absolutely sure that this is a man you want to keep around for a long time, you must not let your real self show around him.”

We had all nodded, as if we understood what she was talking about, and I had spent the last few years   of my life earnestly following this rule. Never allowing my real self to be shown around the people I have dated. But now I’m dating Jihoon, who has been around for all of the embarrassing chapters of my life. How do I navigate this new change in dynamic?

My phone pings, and I look down, expecting a text from Joshua or Eunseo, talking about their wedding, but instead of the two of them, its Jihoon.

hoon: did you tell joshuji?

hoon: he just texted me btw

hoon: he also says that we have both been huge idiots

I pause in the middle of the road in my surprise, and narrowly miss hitting a pedestrian. I always knew Joshua was a snitch, but telling Jihoon not even ten minutes after I’ve left? That’s just low.

big dick (canon): cannot believe Joshua snitched

big dick (canon): actually no, I do believe it

big dick (canon): he and Eunseo ditched me after brunch so I’m now being forced to go back to my home

big dick (canon): my home that I love and adore

big dick (canon): but still, I don’t really want to hang out in my apartment all by myself

big dick (canon): it’s so boring

big dick (canon): I’m going to kms

hoon: you know, one of the many, many perks of having me as your boyfriend is

hoon: that you can come hang out in the studio with me all the time

hoon: and I won’t even get angry with you, unlike how I get with others

hoon: because I love you, and this is a perk I provide to my loved ones ONLY

big dick (canon): you have canonically told all twelve of your friends to fuck off from the studio, at least once in your lifetime

big dick (canon): and I’m not even including all the times you have told me no for an interview

big dick (canon): if I count all those times, its going to go to a hundred, EASILY

big dick (canon): and you’re telling me to come hang out with you

big dick (canon): this is HIGHLY sus

hoon: just come to the studio my god you’re so dramatic

hoon: don’t take this as a sign to stop being dramatic, I actually like it when you do that

hoon: if you tell this to anyone else, I’m going to deny it and kill you

big dick (canon): you won’t do that you like me too much

big dick (canon): anyway, should I bring something for you to eat

hoon: have I ever told you that I love u

big dick (canon): yes, u have

big dick (canon): multiple times, in fact

hoon: ugh so dramatic

big dick (canon): I won’t get you anything, then

hoon: get me some fried chicken

big dick (canon): I’m having it delivered to your studio. I’m coming in ten

By the time I enter Jihoon’s studio, the chicken has been delivered, and I open the door to see Jihoon munching on a drumstick. Unlike other days, the studio is messy, and he looks like he’s been through hell. Which, if you take Jihoon’s word for it, is not much, just three meetings.

“Shouldn’t you leave one drumstick for me?” I ask, shrugging my winter coat off, “fuck, its cold as hell outside.”

“Needed brain food,” Jihoon replies through a mouthful of chicken, “had a meeting in the morning, the sound engineers needed some changes to be done to Hoshi’s title track.”

“Sounds like shit,” I mutter, picking up a piece, “you’ve been working on that since the morning?”

“Not just that, but the girl group song too,” he replies, “they liked the first song so much that they want another song from me. I’ve been looking through the scratch files on my computer to find out what songs I can give to them that aren’t emo ballads I made after one too many drinks.”

“You know, some of us just vomit after getting wasted. Are you trying to brag to me that you become more creative when drunk?”

“I’m not bragging, some of these are actually atrocious,” he says, pointing to the icons on the screen, “this one is just called ‘I’m never going to be alive’. What does that mean? Why was I thinking about this at three in the morning?”

“Entertaining suicidal thoughts at three in the morning is something we’ve all done, actually.”

“This is just called ‘Love hurts’, and this one, I named it ‘Park PD is a bitch’.”

“I’ll go tell him you said that.” I laugh when Jihoon’s face darkens, “okay, okay, fine, I won’t, but why do you hate him so much?”

“I don’t hate him at all. he was probably getting on my nerves at that moment, and instead of talking it out like real adults, I chose to instead make a song draft calling him a bitch.”

I look closely at the computer screen, “Wait, Jihoon. All of these songs are love songs. To an extent. How many love songs have you written over the years?”

He takes a minute to answer that, “since university, I’ve either created existential songs or love songs, so, I’d say, about a hundred? Give or take, but I won’t put a number on it, since I’m not really sure.”

“You wrote about a hundred love songs?”

“Yes, I did, and they’re all in here,” Jihoon pats the external hard drive hooked up to the computer, “this holds pretty much all of my work.”

“Makes sense as to why you would guard it with your life.” I reply.

I go to sit back down, putting my feet up on the sofa, and Jihoon gives me a dirty look. I just smile in reply. He’s always a stickler for these kind of rules, but it’s funny to see him be so rattled. I’m not going to lie and say that seeing him be irritated is funny, because it is. An angry Jihoon is a cute Jihoon, I’ve learnt that back in university. Especially when he pouts like that.

“You still wear minion socks?” Jihoon says, stuffing his mouth with chicken, “I gave you that as a gag gift last year, you should have thrown them out as soon as you got them.”

“I like the socks. They’re comfortable.” I reply, shrugging, “who gave you the idea to give me socks as a gag gift?”

“Soonyoung. He thought it would be funny to give you cartoon socks.”

“Joke’s on him, I like having my feet warm.”

After Jihoon and I finish the chicken and clean up in record time, he goes back to his workstation, and I’m free to observe him as much as I want to. Seeing Jihoon in his element is always an experience. Even in university, I used to observe him when he worked. He has a singular focus on whatever he does, from eating to producing music. I’m also not going to lie to myself and say that he isn’t attractive when he works, because somehow his attractiveness gets turned up a hundred notches when he’s working. Or maybe, I like him too much and I find everything about him attractive. His eyes are laser-focused on his work, and the lines of his neck, disappearing into his shirt, is at odds with the Jihoon in my bed yesterday, peacefully sleeping as he held me for warmth. Before last night, I never knew that Lee Jihoon was someone who got cold even underneath a comforter, and liked holding someone else for warmth.

“You’re staring,” Jihoon says, breaking my line of thought, “I’ve been talking to you for the past ten seconds and you’ve been staring into space.”

“I was just looking at my handsome boyfriend as he works. Is that not allowed?”

“Stop saying that.” He mutters, going back to his work, but I can see him turning red. Jackpot.

“Jihoon.”

“Hm?”

“Are you blushing right now?”

He turns around to give me an impressive glare, “no, I’m not.”

“The back of your neck is red.” I grin, “were you getting shy?”

“No, I wasn’t.” he lies, his ears going red. At this rate, he might burst into fumes.

“Your ears say otherwise, Jihoon,” I stand up, walking over to his chair, “your ears and your neck is red. You’re getting shy, aren’t you?”

“What! No, I’m not—” he pauses for a moment, turning away from me, before grabbing me by the waist, “stop teasing.”

“I won’t,” I giggle, taking the opportunity to climb into his lap, “see! You’re going all red.”

His face is still turned away from me, but I can see the blush on his cheeks, “are you going to continue to lie to me, Jihoon?”

He pauses, before huffing, “you’re gonna regret teasing me, you know.”

“Pretty sure I won’t—aah!”

Unfortunately, my plan had but one singular flaw in it. I had underestimated how much he worked out on a weekly basis. Jihoon just glares at me, before picking me up and walks over to the sofa, my legs dangling around his waist. Seriously, how much does this guy work out?

“Really? I was working, and in the zone, and you had to tease me like that?” he grumbles, before unceremoniously dumping me on the sofa, “I shouldn’t have invited you over. Let me go back to work.”

“But you did,” I grin, my hands around his neck, “you invited me over. Lured me in, I’ should say. You lured me in, and now you should pay the price.”

Jihoon groans, before smiling, “is this how it’s going to be all the time?”

“Mm, I’m afraid so.”

Lying down on the sofa, I can see the lights on the ceiling, bright white, ones that Jihoon claimed helped him with his workflow. I hated them in the beginning, claimed that they hurt my eyes, but over time, I grew used to them, to the point where I can’t imagine there being anything else. Bright white lights. A comfortable sofa. Jihoon’s face obscuring my vision, so close that I can make out every individual eyelash. His mouth, full and open, insistent against mine. Jihoon kisses like he wants to do nothing else, I’ve realised. As though this was what he wanted to do all along. Anything is okay. I’m not afraid of falling, if it’s Jihoon. which is why  I find myself doing strange things. Like allowing him to touch me, even if it’s in the middle of day, in a room where anyone might come in; like allowing him to undress me, even if I’m underneath harsh white lights. Because its him, because its Jihoon. I can touch him in return, slip my hands underneath the shirt he’s wearing, because I can press my mouth just as insistently against him as him.

“So, this is how it’s going to be, is it?” he says, unbuttoning my shirt, “wait. You’re not wearing a bra?”

I roll my eyes. Of all the things he can talk about, this is what he chooses to focus on? “No, Jihoon, its winter. I’m wearing three layers over this. Of course I don’t want to wear a bra. It’s too much work.”

“I wish it was winter forever,” he replies, continuing to unbutton my shirt, “good god, if this is the outcome, I wish it was winter all throughout the year.”

“The economy is gonna hate you.” I mumble against his mouth, “imagine a whole year of winter. The economy is gonna go haywire. And all because you’re horny.”

“It’s a proof of how much I’m attracted to you, that I’m still working on  your shirt after you just started talking about the economy,” Jihoon finally manages to slip off the shirt I’m wearing, “total buzzkill.”

I scowl, yanking his shirt over his head in one go, “sorry I’m such a buzzkill, then.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” Jihoon kisses my cheek, “you’re so beautiful. Have I told you that?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Remind me to tell you this every day, then.” His hands are soft on my hair, stroking, “you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever laid my eyes upon.”

“Even compared to Jeonghan?”

“Even compared to Jeonghan.” He repeats, “why do you have to bring him up now?”

“Just like that.” I smile, kissing him softly, “so, you like this?’

“Is this how it’s going to be now? For the foreseeable future?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Thank god,” Jihoon murmurs, his hands on the button closure of my trousers, “I can’t wait for the future, then.”

—

Being in this industry means you have to meet with a lot of people. When I say a lot of people, I do mean a lot of people. I’ve managed to keep my connections alive, but it has not been easy getting to this place. Not the least for someone like me, who had no one in the industry to rely on. In the beginning, when I was working at the fashion magazine, everywhere I went I would be marked as an outsider, and it was surprising how easily doors could get closed. I’ve always been resentful of those times, but now, now it feels like a moment in time that never called its name out for me, and I cannot bring myself to care.

These are the thoughts that I usually have in the mornings. But now, things have changed.

For one, Jihoon is sleeping next to me, his hands holding me close. Its strange, looking at him like this, peaceful instead of a permanent frown etched into his brow, a small smile on his face instead of the scowl that seems to have carved out its own position on his face.

Nowadays, I wake up before Jihoon does, and on most days, I spend some time looking at his face. He was always beautiful, but now, now he looks ethereal. It takes all my self-control to not run from this, because how can someone like me be happy? What right do I have to happiness?

“You’re thinking too much again,” Jihoon says, shaking my train of thought loose, “I can practically hear your gears turning.”

“Morning,” I reply, hoping it sounds smooth and easy and not like I’ve been consumed with depressing thoughts.

Jihoon hums, pulling me in closer, “you always think too much. Its time you stopped thinking so fast.”

“Hm? Do you have a way of doing that?”

That gets his attention, and he opens his eyes. Still sleepy, but fully awake. “You want me to do something about your overthinking?”

“Yes.”

“Hm, I have a thought on how you can change that.”

“And what is that?”

He smiles, half-awake, and kisses me, and my mouth eagerly opens up to let his tongue swipe in, mapping the inside of my mouth with as much ease as he does when composing music. its almost embarrassing how eagerly my body responds to his touch, my hands finding their way inside Jihoon’s shirt without missing a beat, bringing him closer to me as if it’s a dance we have practiced over a long time. It’s a good thing that Jihoon is just as eager as me, pressing himself against me roughly, hard from the barest of touches. If he wasn’t wearing his sweatpants, he would realise just how wet I was from his touches alone, how he managed to reduce me to a wet, moaning mess with only a ghost of his touch and nothing more.

“Mm, just so you know, you’re kind of fulfilling a dream of mine.”

“Which is?”

“Having my way with you in the morning.” Jihoon grins, sitting up to pull his shirt off over his head, and my eyes widen as large purple blotches come into view. God, what did I do—those look like the work of a feral animal, not a mostly sane woman in her twenties. He, on the other hand, looks composed, dragging my shirt up and adding it to the pile on the floor. Almost immediately, his mouth is back on mine, his large hands manhandling my breasts. He’s just as affected as I am, moaning into my mouth as his fingers pinch and twist my nipples, the two of us barely managing to not devolve into a moaning, screaming, mess.

“Have I told you,” he yawns, coming up for breath, “your tits are incredible.”

I scoff, “yes, yes you have, Jihoon, multiple times. I get it, you like them.”

“Like them?” Jihoon grins, shoving two fingers into my mouth before putting his on  my nipple and sucking me hard enough to cry, “babe, I love them, they are perfect.”

Fuck. Jihoon’s obsession with my breasts means that he spent half an hour getting me off last night with his mouth and fingers alone, and I’m oversensitive to the point where his current ministrations are toeing the line between pain and pleasure. His fingers are in my mouth, long and deft, and I can remember where they had been the previous night.

“You gave me enough hickeys to last a lifetime, baby,” Jihoon mutters, still sucking roughly on my breasts, “it’s only fair I get to return the favour.”

Before I can even process what he means, he bites down on my nipple, hard enough that my back arches from the mix of pain and pleasure, and he can feel exactly how wet I already am. At this rate, he doesn’t even need to prepare me to fuck me, he can slide into me with ease, without even taking off his pants.

Jihoon is tired, sleepy, and so am I, the initial rush of waking up next to him fading away quickly as the early morning catches up to the both of us. There’s nothing rushed about the way he’s pushing in and out of me right now; it’s a slow embrace, something that I can hold on to for the rest of my day. Jihoon’s back is wide enough that I can’t really wrap my arms around him, and his mouth is slow against mine, insistent but not really pushing. It’s all Jihoon, and my brain is slowly going into overdrive because of how close he is.

“Have I told you how much I love you?” Jihoon asks, after we’re both finished, lying in a haze of our own happiness, oblivious to the world around us, “if I haven’t, consider it an oversight I wish to rectify. As much time as it takes.”

“Are you—proposing to me right now?” I ask.

“Well, it’s not really a proposal yet, but I am going to. And it’s going to be with flowers and a grand gesture that you really can’t turn down.”

“Never took you for a romanticist, Lee Jihoon.”

“Well, that’s the beauty of dating me.”

—

Mr Hong is an impressive writer, which is perhaps why I have always been a little jealous of him and his work. It’s also not at all strange as to why he only agrees to interviews with me, given his prickly demeanour, which has not really improved in the years that I have managed to work with him.

But even with all my misgivings, work is work, and I make my way to the office to pick up my files for the interview, and Seungkwan offers me a warm latte, insisting that I should carry it into the interview. The drink is still warm in my hands, and I stare at him. he just shrugs, “what, you should take it to him, it’ll look nice if we bring him something to drink in an interview.”

“Seungkwan,” I say, trying my best not to laugh, “have you read all of Mr Hong’s interviews with me?”

“Yes, I have, why?”

“Then you should also know that he only drinks tea from a specific tea garden in India, right?”

Seungkwan stares back. “He’s that much of a tea snob?”

“He earns ten billion per year in book sales, he can afford to be a tea snob. He imports the tea himself. He doesn’t drink coffee, and he would also hate it if I offered him a drink. It makes him feel like he’s not being a good host to me.”

“She’s like a criminal profiler when it comes to him,” the Editor hands Seungkwan a file, “managed to get all this information from the one single television segment filmed at his house.”

“Kind of forced to, since there was no prior information on him,” I mutter, but Seungkwan’s eyes widen, and he grabs my hands, eyes shining, “what the hell are you doing? You’re scaring the shit out of me.”

“You’re so cool, sunbae,” Seungkwan says, almost giggling from his excitement, “can’t believe you exist.”

“Seems like her boyfriend cannot believe she exists either,” The Assistant Editor sets down a cup of coffee at my desk, “cute guy. Handed me the coffee and said I should give it to the Associate Editor.”

“Jihoon said that?” I ask, picking up the warm cup. It’s an iced café mocha, sugary enough for Seungkwan to cringe when he takes a taste of it. “Jihoon doesn’t really refer to me by my title.”

“He always does with us, though,” Seungkwan says, “in fact, he’s been quite besotted with you since your university days.”

“University? It took them that long?” Haewon tuts, “really, sunbae, you should have just gotten together by now.”

“He should be doing that more, if you ask me,” the Assistant Editor smiles, “how does it feel to be the author of one of the most popular columns in the newspaper? There are a couple thousand hits on it every day, and that’s me being conservative with the estimate.”

“They love that column,” the Editor pipes up, “we sure are a depressed country.”

“Yes, yes, I’ve just been giving a voice to the most depraved of our society,” I mutter, slinging my bag over my shoulder in what feels like a fourth time this morning, “Seungkwan, are you coming along?”

“Yes!”

Writer Hong’s house is in the same neighbourhood as Jeonghan’s, but he has been living in it since the 90’s and to my knowledge, there has not been a violent murder to reduce the price of the house. Not that he would complain about it, given his obsession with true crime and the lurid crime novels he had written in the 80’s under a pseudonym that I had dug out for him to agree for an interview; because while the television segment did help, it was nothing compared to the immovable force of Writer Hong’s refusal to be in the spotlight. Which is why I had to yell out one of the names of his books (written in the 80’s) before he could disconnect the call. It was the first month I had been working at the news desk, and I was different. Hungrier. For recognition, or for someone to tell me that leaving my comparatively cushy, but dead-end job at a fashion magazine to pursue a career in journalism (good journalism), but journalism that does not pay the bills, was a bad idea. It was my first scoop, and I still remember being congratulated around the office like I had conquered a country. It was supposed to be a one-off thing, something a young writer had accomplished against the better judgement of all the adults involved.

But then Writer Hong had gone and taken a shine to me. I like the way you conduct interviews, he had said, very short. Not like those other blithering idiots who only go on and on about how great my work is.

Which brings me and Seungkwan to this morning, standing outside his mansion—it’s a mansion, a house the two of us can only dream of buying one day—in the cold winter air, Seungkwan nervously clutching the file he’s kept holding on to ever since we left the office building.

I ring the doorbell, and Seungkwan whimpers. Whimpers. I give him a sharp look, and he manages to compose himself just in time for Writer Hong to open the door, grumpy and ruffled, but he opens the door and lets us in, and soon enough, we are sitting in the middle of a tastefully done room, waiting for him to serve us with expensive Darjeeling tea. Seungkwan’s foot vibrates at an almost supersonic speed.

“So,” he says without much of a preamble, entering the room holding a teakwood tray, “I should call you Writer now, instead of Associate Editor.”

Its difficult to stop the blush that spreads across my cheeks, and even Seungkwan lightens up at that statement. Writer Hong had always been someone who valued propriety and how to address someone properly above all else, a relic of the old age, even if he had hated it in his youth.

“I’m still Associate Editor to you, sir,” I reply, holding the porcelain teacup carefully, “the writing is just a column.”

“And one of the better columns I’ve read in the last few years,” he grumbles, “my wife made me read it, you know. And I thought it was nice. Better than what that hack Kim Hong-Sik has been getting up to in these past few days.”

“Did not think a column on unachieved dreams would be exciting to you, sir,” I say, with a small smile, and he guffaws.

“You should start writing properly, then,” he says, “if you think your column is not deserving  of praise, going against the word of me, arguably the best writer Korea has seen in the past few decades.”

“That’s going a bit overboard, don’t you think, sir?” I say, and Seungkwan gasps, but Writer Hong just laughs ad laughs, “I mean, Han Kang exists.”

“Best Male author, then.”

The rest of the interview goes smoothly, and he even warms up to Seungkwan considerably, although he calls his way of peeling oranges ‘disgraceful to the flavour of an orange’. Its good, and it makes me feel accomplished, at noon, and before we leave, he even relents to take a picture with me, amidst his impressive collection of Korean art.  

“That went very well,” Seungkwan says, as we flag down a taxi, “didn’t know he could be like that. He’s usually so—reserved. And grumpy. In all the award shows.”

“He’s big on privacy, but fame really got to that.”

“Privacy?”

“There was once a story about his daughter, who passed away before she turned a year old. He and his wife hated that article so much he stopped giving interviews.”

“Really?”

“Really,” I say, closing my eyes, and Seungkwan falls silent. He was probably too young to have read that article—hell, I was too young to have read that article, but its easy, to wield this destructive power if you have it, especially without any regard for how the other party might feel about it; most people in my line of work get drunk on it, ruining lives just for the sake of ruining them.

We pick up lunch at a corner store, and walk into the office building in silence. Seungkwan has been looking up old articles, and he’s upset, clearly, given how his mouth settles into a frown, one that doesn’t go away even after Haewon presents us with doughnuts from the cafeteria, a present, she says, from the Editor-in-Chief.

“They’re waiting for you in the Meeting room,” she tells me, and I frown, because why the hell would they be there?

“Ah, there’s the Associate Editor!” the Editor booms, his head poking out of the meeting room door, “come have a chat with us.”

Its normal, jovial even, but I approach the room cautiously, only to be greeted with wide smiles from the two men.

“There’s a book deal for you.” The Editor-in-Chief,  a man of blessedly few words, says, as soon as I enter, “they like the column, and they want to publish it.”

“Of course, the legal team is going to establish your fees and how much of it should be going to the company—” they drone on, but all the words and thoughts have flow out of my head because holy shit I have a book deal now. Writer Hong’s words from this morning come to mind, and I smile and nod through the entire meeting, assuring them that while the company’s lawyers are sufficient, I should like to talk to my own lawyers about this, and that everything is okay, I would really like to go over the terms and conditions of the contract before signing it, and yes, I was reviewing it positively. While they hate that a column is possibly going out of circulation, they can’t help but think about all the extra money this is going to be bringing in, the extra money and the popularity, being known as the company that fostered a young author’s work. It’s a win-win deal, one that I would be stupid to turn down.

I leave the meeting room and call Jihoon, my hands shaking, and he picks up within three rings, his voice soothing and calm like it always is, “hello?”

“I’m going to be a writer,” I say, no other explanation or long-winded preamble, and Jihoon understands, “can you come pick me up from work?”

“I’ll be there in half an hour.”

I stand up, straighten my pants, and leave the bathroom, marching straight up to the editor’s desk, “I’m taking the rest of the day off.”

“The rest of the day?” he sputters, “wait, what about the interview?”

Seungkwan pops up his head, “I can write that. It’s just compiling all that was said.”

“I’ll check it, and Seungkwan needs to take point on a project,” I say, “besides, if you want me to focus on the column full-time, then someone needs to interview Writer Hong instead of me, right?”

“Still, you shouldn’t be leaving in the middle of the day,” he protests weakly, and the Assistant Editor smacks him with a pamphlet, “what was that for?”

“Clearly, she has someone waiting to pick her up, you buffoon,” she groans, “when will you understand? Just because your love life is barren, doesn’t mean everyone else is the same as you.”

Seungkwan winces, “wait, are you going home with Jihoon-hyung right now?”

I roll my eyes, “would you prefer to have the sordid details?”

“No, thank you.”

A peal of laughter follows me as I walk out of the office, and then the elevator and then Jihoon is standing in the lobby, flushed and wonderful, his nose red in the snow and biting wind. Because I’m a sane woman who is not given to theatrics, I merely walk up to him and tuck my arm into his, moving past the sliding doors onto the street. He’s wearing slippers, I notice, he must have come here straight from the studio.

“Very different from the feral woman who attacked me last night, I see,” Jihoon murmurs, strapping me into the seat of his car and kissing me for a tad bit (okay, thirty seconds) longer than what can be termed as an appropriate hello kiss.

“I was not that feral.”

“I have to wear a turtleneck for a week!” he exclaims, pulling down his shirt to show the extent of the damage, and I look away, embarrassed, “no! you don’t get to look away from me!”

“I like you in turtlenecks.”

That pleases him, and he smiles , “then I’ll wear them throughout the year.”

“Jihoon, you’ll suffocate.”

“I’ll have you.” He grins, “so, celebration?”

“I want to laze away today. Take a nap. Order shitty food.”

“I’m assuming there’s coitus involved. And not to mention, you dragged me out of work today.”

I wrinkle my nose, “do not say that word ever again, or else I’m kicking you out of my bed. And besides, what’s the point in being a famous producer if they don’t let you get home to your fiancée now and then?”

“What, coitus?”

“You’re no longer allowed into my bed,” I mutter darkly, and he just laughs.

The apartment building is mostly quiet this time of the day, but we pass a fair few old people who give us strange looks for coming back so early from work. Given that there have been multiple witnesses to me coming back at one in the morning, tired from overtime, and Jihoon walking into the elevator when the old ladies have finished their morning stroll, dark shadows under his eyes so pronounced he had to sleep for a week to get rid of them.

Jihoon presses the code to his home, and the two of us walk into the hallway, closing the door behind us to avoid the cold draught from chilling us to the bone.

“What should we get/” Jihoon toes off his slippers, scrolling absent-minded through his phone, “there’s a shop that delivers samgyetang, and I thought we could get some delivered, since you’ve been coming down with that cold for the past few days.”

“I’d like that,” I shake off my own shoes, sensible boots compared to Jihoon’s slippers, and kiss him again, for no other reason that I can and I will. He smiles against my mouth, “order me a whole chicken, Jihoon-ssi.”

“Two whole chickens,” he amends, “we can have the soup throughout the week. Shower?”

It is an innocuous enough question, but the way Jihoon’s eyes flash makes something shift inside of me, and I find myself returning his little smirk, peeling off the heavy coat, “you know there’s a water shortage.”

“Hmm. Its very bad. We should be conserving all the water we can.”

Jihoon pulls me close to kiss me again, and I laugh, leading him towards the shower.

—

My hometown is a quiet town. Sleepy, with neighbours that know everything about everyone. I used to hate them when I was younger, hated the way they always compared me to my sister, told me I had to be better in order for me to meet my parents’ expectations, as if nothing I did was good enough when compared to her. Nowadays, it’s a welcome distraction; reminding me of the fact that nothing in my town really changes, or will ever change. Not for the better, nor for the worse.

“Oh, are you here for the wedding?” the old man at the fruit shop says, as Jihoon and I walk out of the car, Jihoon yawning behind a closed fist, having slept half the way while I drove, “wait, you’re Yong-Hwa’s sister-in-law!”

“Yes, we’re here for the wedding,” I reply, as Jihoon shakes the falling cherry blossoms out of his hair, “just wanted to pick some fruits to take back to the house.”

That get’s his attention, and he spends an entire half-hour detailing to us every fruit he had at the store, and how good they would taste in season. In the end, we buy a box of strawberries, ones that he assures me are going to ‘taste like heaven’, and Jihoon is taking the driver’s seat for once, and we are speeding towards the house where I have spent my childhood and adolescence.

“Hasn’t been that long since I visited this place.” Jihoon says, turning a corner so that my home is visible, “this feels different somehow.”

“Yes, well, we weren’t together when you visited my mom. And its only a reminder of how much she wants me to visit, and I keep avoiding her requests.”

“But you’re here for the wedding.” He says, and I turn to look at him. Jihoon looks resolute, his mouth set in a line I haven’t seen for a long time, the light casting deep shadows on his face. My eyes move to the smooth gold band on his ring finger, its identical twin gleaming on my hand. He’s nervous, navigating this journey from being my friend to being my intended, meeting the family all over again, essentially.

There are flowers all over the house, bursting into bloom for my sister’s wedding, and I think to myself, this is how it usually is, huh. It’s a surprise that the usual dread that settles into me at the thought of getting married has been replaced with a pleasant anticipation, looking forward to navigating a lifetime with Jihoon.

“You’re here!” my mother shouts as we get down from the car, “they’re here!” she yells to someone inside the house, and soon enough, my father ambles out, looking every bit the disgruntles, emotionless father I had grown up with, looking at his youngest daughter and her partner. My mother envelops me into a crushing hug, but its my father’s gaze that I cannot return, because to this day I cannot live up to the ideal that he had had constructed for me.

My mother doesn’t notice the rings on our fingers, or even if she does, she doesn’t say anything, and we just haul the suitcases up into the house, where Jihoon has the guest bedroom, and I have my old childhood one. Settled in, I leave Jihoon to his devices, answering calls from the company about the new album, and walk down to the kitchen to help my mother with dinner.

“Is everything all right with Jihoon?” she asks, cutting carrots into tiny little pieces, “are you two finally together?”

I say nothing, just pour myself a glass of tea, “didn’t think you’d noticed.”

“Oh, the couple rings were too nice to not notice, actually,” she laughs, “its good. You two suit each other very much.”

“Now you’re saying that to take the piss,” I grumble, “you’ve never once approved of the people I’ve dated, whether I dated them or not.”

“That’s because you dated them to stop your mind from crashing and burning,” my mother says, gentle as ever, putting the ingredients for soup into a big pot, “you’ve always been headstrong that way.”

“As opposed to my sister?”

My mother sighs,  a sign of a battle she’s already lost against herself, “I’m sorry about that.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” I wave my hand. It matters so much. “I was the problem child, I guess. Every family needs one.”

“You were not a problem child,” my mother says, “you were just out of our reach, at times. and when we finally thought we understood you, you ran away and concealed yourself from us.”

“That’s what I was taught.”

“And I should have taught you differently.”

“Never mind, mother,” I give her a quick smile, “you’ll be watching your daughter get married, and in a few years, you’ll be a grandmother, and that will give you enough happiness to tide you over for the next ten years.”

“I think about you too, you know.”

“Congratulations on that, mother.” I reply, walking out of the kitchen.

Jihoon is sitting on the bed when I open the door, hands clutched around a  cup, “I wish we hadn’t come back.”

He raises an eyebrow, “this is your home.”

“I know, its just—there’s no one here that knows me, and even if they do, its only by association, as the sister, and my parents are all on eggshells around me, because I blew up in their faces about my childhood, and how much I hated being here, and its never going to stop, is it, I’m going to be this way, this festering, annoying, difficult, person, and I’ll never really be normal ever again—”

Jihoon wraps his arms around me, pulling me into a hug that’s at once reassuring and scandalous, “you’ll be fine. Your family are, well, they’re sorry, and they’re on eggshells because they don’t know how to approach you anymore. It happens. You can leave to Seoul and have your career, but they’re going to stay on in this town, and be reminded of the fact that maybe they didn’t do enough. Let them hover. It’ll put them at ease.”

“Fine.” I grumble, “I just came back because I love my sister. And Yong-Hwa. He needs to have a chance to run away before he hitches himself to her.”

Jihoon laughs, “would you say the same thing for me?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “What?”

He unwraps his arms from around me, fishing in his pocket, “wait, I forgot the ring at home.”

I gape, “you were going to propose to me?”

“Yes, but now that I forgot the ring, there’s going to be no proposal.” Jihoon grumbles, “stupid.”

“That’s fine, it would have been inappropriate for us to take away my sister’s spotlight,” I grin, pulling him back into a hug, “I accept, nonetheless.”

“Really?”

“I do expect a proper proposal back  in Seoul.”

“As you wish, always.”

—

Jihoon proposes with a car full of balloons, and he enlists the help of the other guys to make the proposal truly memorable, a phrase that I’m rapidly beginning to attribute to him. its gorgeous, and everything I had never imagined when it came to a proposal. The wedding, however, is much my style, the two of us traipsing down to the courthouse to submit a form and being declared married by the clerk, who tells us darkly that there’s a divorce counter just in the next room. Jihoon laughs, and I laugh, before walking out of the courthouse to meet our friends (and family) for dinner.

It’s a new life.

—

To LJH,

For being my friend.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

what do you think harry likes to do in his free time if there isn't a huge mystery going on?

Hello 👋

He doesn't have that many hobbies, since more often than not Harry is at the center of a plot to kill him. But we do see things he enjoyed doing to pass the time.

We know Harry likes Quidditch, and we know he enjoys flying in general as a hobby when given the time and opportunity.

We see him play Exploding Snap and collect Chocolate Frog cards. And while he isn't very good at chess, he does play it against Ron a lot! I think he does enjoy it, even if he loses more often than not.

He really loves magic, and once he's 17, he casts magic just because he can. So, I can definitely see him absently changing the color of various items or levitating his quill when he's bored in class.

With the D.A. (and from the beginning of 1st year) we also saw he does enjoy learning and he does quite a bit of research for defense spells that have nothing to do with the main mystery. He really does enjoy it, I think.

In this post and reblog, @sparsilees and I talk about how Harry loves little fancy trinkets and fancy things in general. Since he was gifted luxury quills and such, I can totally see him having a collection of nice quills and inks that he doesn't really use. He just liked buying them.

He likes watching TV when he gets the chance at the Dursleys, and I think he would love fictional books if he had the time to sit down and read them. But, post-books Harry would totally go to the cinema to watch movies when he finds time. He would take his kids too. That would be their main muggle exposure.

In the books, he hangs out with Ron and Hermione a lot, and that's how he spends most of his free time, if we're being honest. The kid was lonely all his childhood, of course, he'd love hanging out with his friends!

[i9messi]

can you do an ollie bearman comfort fic?? Maybe reader is stressed and overwhelmed by uni or smth else you do whatever you want with that

Peace — Ollie Bearman

Focusing too much on your finals had made you feel anxious, so your boyfriend Ollie comes to your bedroom to help.

Word count — 1,3k

note: ollie calling baby to reader makes me feel things. feedback and reblogs are appreciated!

MASTERLIST

The smell of candles made the room smell incredibly good, but nothing was useful to calm your own destructive thoughts. You were very close to a final exam and the anxiety made you feel like the worst. You could hardly sleep well and rest as you deserved.

You had cancelled your dates with your boyfriend and your meetings with your friends. Your final was important and you were too focused on it. Who cared if you were nice, if you failed your finals?

You didn’t totally believe in fate or good vibes. Yes, you could trust that fate would be on your side and manifesting a passing grade might be important, but it was also important to study until your eyes were tired and you fell asleep with pure tiredness. As extreme as it sounds.

Your phone started ringing and that made you lose focus from the screen. You read the name on your cell phone, it was your boyfriend, Ollie. Knowing it was perhaps important, you answered the call before it rang a second time.

“Ollie? Something happened?”

“Hi, baby. I just missed hearing your voice.”

You smiled. Lately you were being a little mean with him, canceling your plans and dates with him. His voice brought a moment of peace when you needed it most. Ollie gave you peace.

“I also missed hearing your voice but I’m studying, I have a final.”

“Stress about Uni won’t do you any good, baby.”

You knew it, you also knew your boyfriend wanted the best for you.

“Ollie, I have to keep studying. Can we talk later?”

“When will I see you again? I miss you badly.”

“I don’t know. I miss you too."

“Okay. Call me if you need anything.”

When the call ended, you continued studying. Time passed, that same night you fell asleep on your desk and woke up with an incredible neck pain. Sometimes it was most useful for you to study at night, so it was barely seven pm when you locked yourself back in your room to study. Your roomie was in her room getting ready to party.

You heard the bell ring. You assumed it was a visit for your roommate. A couple of seconds later, you heard footsteps and a noise in the door. You got up and came to see who it was.

Right there was Ollie, with a teddy bear in his arms.

“Ollie, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, Ollie, I'm so happy to see you.” He joked, a little sarcastically.

“I love seeing you, really. I just didn’t know you were coming. Come on in.”

He came into your room and you realized it was a mess. The only thing that was tidy was your bed, since you had not spent the night sleeping peacefully on the mattress. Your desk was a combination of Red Bulls, empty coffee cups and snacks that was useful to you to keep you awake. The rest were books, notes and sheets of paper with the content you had to study for the exam.

“You need to take this easy.”

“I know, but you know me and you know I become a little too obsessive when I'm studying.”

He grabbed your hand and led you to bed, where he sat you on his lap.

“Listen to me, baby.”

“I listen, Ollie.”

“I know you’re a good student and you will get a good grade, but you have to remember that it’s just an exam. You are much more than a number on a piece of paper, you are more than what your professor thinks you are worth. I know how hard you work for your goals and how brave you are. So, please, at least for a few hours forget about your final and stay with me.”

“Ollie…”

“I brought you a bear.”

He offered the teddy bear to you. You grabbed it, it was brown and adorable. It wasn't the first bear your boyfriend gave you, nor would it be the last. Ollie loved to give you bears of all colors available and types, in your room you had a lot of them.

“Thank you, it's so cute. Cute like you.”

Ollie smiled and you grabbed the bear, it smelled like your boyfriend.

“Can we just lie down in your bed and cuddle?”

His brown eyes looked at you. You couldn’t say no, not when your body was so tired and you had missed him so much during those days when you barely talked.

“You don't need to ask, yes.”

And you did, you laid on bed and he hugged you from behind. You also hugged the teddy bear.

“Tell me what’s bothering you.” He muttered in your ear.

“I guess I’m just scared to forget some important information and go blank.”

“That’s not gonna happen.”

“What if it happens?”

“I don’t think your professor is a ruthless being who feeds on the blood of the innocent.”

You laughed.

“You should see how he gets when someone says a wrong answer, sometimes he scares me. I swear he gets more and more bold every class, all because of his poor nerves.”

“You will pass your final, silly.”

You turned, getting face to face with your boyfriend. You saw him so close and you came closer up to his mouth and left a sweet kiss on his lips. Ollie smiled in the middle of the kiss.

“We could watch an episode of Glee. I know you're watching it.”

“Uhmm, interesting proposal. I accept.”

With a smile on your face, you took your laptop and searched until you chose the episode you wanted. You put the computer in a comfortable place, where you and Ollie could see it quietly.

“Baby?”

“Yes?”

“I love you and I don’t want you to think for a second that you’re alone in this. I’ll be here whenever you need me. If you need someone to talk with, someone to watch tv shows or even someone to cuddle after studying. I'm here, always.”

You couldn’t stop yourself and kissed his lips. Ollie put a hand on your cheek.

“I love you so much.”

The episode of the show continued, you were so excited to be with your boyfriend that you forgot for a second the pressure of the exam. With Ollie by your side, caressing your hair and leaving kisses on your forehead was enough to be at peace.

“Go bathe and I’ll bring you food.” he suggested, once the episode was over.

“Are you saying I smell?”

Ollie just laughed.

“I’m not implying anything.”

“Fine, I’m gonna go take a bath.”

You went to your bathroom, while your boyfriend left the bedroom to cook something fast. The shower served to relax you, the pressure that you had on your shoulders felt much lighter. You put on your favorite pajamas and left the bathroom, where you found Ollie in the kitchen finishing up his food.

“Your roomie has already left, she said please don’t forget to water the plants.”

“Okay, alright.”

He brought the food onto the table, “I made pasta.”

“Smells incredible.”

Both ate in silence, something you liked about your boyfriend was that he respected the moments when you didn’t want to talk too much. Now that you were in a period full of exams, your mind was too busy to want to talk a lot. With the right words, you and Ollie dined in peace.

When you finished eating, Ollie stood up and put everything in place. Your eyes suddenly closed with exhaustion.

“Let’s go to sleep.”

You walked to your bedroom and you went to bed, repeating the same sequence of before. Ollie hugged you from behind and you hugged the teddy bear he gave you.

“Get some rest, you deserve it.”

“I feel like my mind is going to keep solving exercises while sleeping.”

“We can study tomorrow morning, I’ll help you.”

Knowing him, you knew he would keep his promise.

“I’m glad you’re here, Ollie. I was so stressed— I love you.”

“And I love you, baby. You're not alone in anything.”