#fun fact: i had this AU a long time ago but not with the same premise

[kumamooko]

i have an idea for a detective AU series called Detective Kirkland

the premise: prussia invited people to his 1000th victory celebration party (of what? we don't know) to which he was murdered! it was up for our main character, england, to solve the murder of the beloved, unforgettable ex-nation.

[blooberrries]

『consequential』 — satoru

— pairing: satoru x afab!reader — wc: 5k — content: mdni, nsfw; vampire au, college/university au, jealous/possessive satoru, blood drinking, vampire bites (chest, neck and arm), alcohol, mutual pining (a distant relative of idiots to lovers), piv sex, love bites (heh literally), standing/sex against the wall (he holds you up the entire time because he's actually insane), unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming,he's a bit of a simp really idk if that was planned — notes: got possessed by the Horny Spirit, also not proofread. enjoy? also be gentle with me I haven't written smut in over a year

prompt: ["Oh, don't be cute."] + [“you’re all mine” - “hm…” - “say it” - “i’m all yours”]

While slightly spiteful, your plan had been simple and had about a 50/50 chance of succeeding, with minimal loss to you if it didn’t.

Two weeks ago Gojo Satoru had— after months of asking for it and being denied by you— finally gotten your permission to drink your blood. So he’d gone ahead and bitten you, you’d loved it and probably fell even more annoyingly head over heels for him as a result of the oddly erotic experience, and the way he had acted during the whole ordeal gave you a decent indication that he most definitely felt the same way you did.

You’d expected things to finally change between you after that, hell you’d actually been excited for it.

But instead of leaning into the shift in the dynamic between you, Satoru had instead decided to pretend you didn’t exist and proceeded to completely avoid you for the last two weeks.

(Which is actually quite the feat considering how much overlap there is between your friend groups. But you’re not impressed. You’re mad.)

To say you were upset would be an understatement. Your pride was wounded along with your ego, and you felt foolish and embarrassed and stupidly angsty. The unfortunate reality is that you’re not very good at processing those feelings, so in your time of need you turned to your most faithful, long-time friend: spite.

You know for a fact that Satoru likes the way you smell and taste– it’s one of the many things he’d let slip when sucking the blood ever so gently from the puncture he’d made in the soft flesh of your inner forearm. So you decided to wait until the prime part of your cycle, where the supernatural consensus said humans smelt their best, and you’d procured a tincture from your witch-in-training friend that would accentuate the natural appeal of your blood for certain creatures of the night (she’d assured you it was safe, but you have your own means of defending yourself anyway so you aren’t too worried.)

Then, you’d waltzed your way into a party that was being held at his shared accommodation and made it a point to have fun. The real goal of your plan, besides sticking it to him in the most subtle-not-subtle way ever, was also just to feel better about yourself. Your expectations being upended regarding how you’d hoped things would develop with Satoru had been a big blow and would take some TLC from yours truly to recover from.

You’ve had fun so far, you’re only a drink or so in and pleasantly buzzed, and you’re getting a lot of compliments on your perfume. You can’t exactly tell them you’re not wearing anything but eau de spite, but it does feel nice nonetheless. Each comment is like a balm to your poor, chafed ego. The only wrench in the works is that as expected, not long after you arrived, Satoru noticed you.

And then proceeded to continue in his efforts to avoid and ignore you. He’d disappeared into the throng of people on the other side of the house before you could even blink.

It takes a strongly mixed cocktail, courtesy of Shoko who you’re not sure isn’t trying to kill you with the alcohol content of these drinks, for you to settle your fuming. This is stupid— no, he’s stupid. Stupid sexy vampire with his stupid pretty eyes and stupid pretty face. How dare he let you make a fool of yourself by thinking there could be anything more between you! You never should have let him bite you. At least then things would still be the same and you wouldn’t be so torn between throttling him and kissing him.

Angrily, you take a hearty gulp of your drink. Despite the superficial fruity flavour it burns on the way down, unsurprisingly, and you have to breathe slowly through your nose so it doesn’t come back up. You’re no longer uncertain; you’re confident this cocktail is an attempt on your life.

It’s as you’re nursing that drink and leaning angstily against a wall in the corner of the room, that you sense someone approach you. Your eyes take a moment to adjust as you look up, surprise filtering through you once you register the figure by your side.

“Hey.”

Your brows shoot up, a small grin tugging your lips. “Oh? Long time no see, Mei Mei. What cave have you crawled out of to be here tonight?”

The snow-haired woman rolls her eyes, lips twitching. Her tongue darts to swipe over the tip of a pointed canine.

“Oh, you know, every homebody has to come out to play every once in a while.” Her nose twitches, and she leans forward slightly to inhale. Her eyes flutter wide in pleasant surprise. “Well, don’t you smell absolutely divine tonight. Special occasion?”

Kind of, but you’re not about to tell her that. Mei Mei can be a decent enough acquaintance so long as you keep her at arm’s length.

“I’m trying something new,” you answer simply. She hums, and when her body angles towards you again ever so slightly you become aware of the most odd, prickly sensation. It tickles the hairs at the back of your neck, and you fight the peculiar urge to turn and look around. All you’d see is dancing bodies and stumbling drunks, anyway.

“It suits,” Mei Mei purrs with a smile that makes you a little nervous. Music throbs against your body so strongly that for a moment you’re not sure whether the beat you’re feeling in your chest belongs to your heart or the song. “Though you ought to be careful going on campus smelling like that. You’ll lure in every bloodsucker in a five-mile radius.”

You suppose that means the tincture is doing its job. The way her eyes are appraising your pulse points keeps you feeling nervous, though. Perhaps… it wasn’t the best idea to make yourself smell so scrumptious after all. There are more than a few loose canons in the area.

It’s a little too late for regrets now, though. At this point you just gotta double down and own the decision.

“Noted,” you say, taking a hearty sip of your death-in-a-cup. The burn is now a pleasant distraction. You smile at Mei Mei and feel that prickly, hot feeling increase tenfold. What is that?!

The sensation has your heart rate elevating slightly, and it must make the aroma of your blood a little stronger because the vampire before you lets out a soft groan, her eyes fluttering shut. Almost like it’s instinct, she takes a step closer and leans her head towards the crook of your neck. Your startle is almost imperceptible, and you’re thankful that the top you opted for is one that saved the neck exposure for a well-placed boob window instead. The fabric covering half the expanse of your throat is probably the only reason you don’t freak out at her actions.

Her nose brushes your skin, dragging up the column of your throat until it flirts with the bottom of your earlobe. Your heart skips a beat before tumbling into a full gallop. It’s different to how it felt with Satoru— you don’t like this nearly as much. Your legs tense with the urge to leave.

“Really,” she says, purring your name. “You’ve got me feeling quite peckish. Won’t you let me have a little sn–“

A grip winds around your wrist like a vice, not painful but certainly unforgiving. Startled, you look up and see the person of the hour, the vampire you went to all this effort to torment in the hopes he would want you again. Wow, it doesn’t sound great when you think of it like that. The alcohol is certainly not helping your self-esteem right now.

Satoru’s pretty baby-blues are dark, pupils blown wider than you’ve ever seen before, and his entire body is riddled with tension. He almost looks like the slightest pressure would have him snapping in half. His jaw is locked tightly, and he hisses through clenched teeth and descended fangs.

“Come with me. Now.”

You don’t get the chance to bid Mei Mei farewell, not that you really want to, and the last thing you see as you’re dragged out of the room is her waving a manicured hand your way, mouthing a playful ‘goodbye’. She looks far too amused for your comfort.

Right now, Satoru is nothing like the cheeky, carefree, shit-stirring bastard you’ve come to know and love. That isn’t to say you’re completely opposed to it, because the way he looks like know is a pretty big turn-on. But still – the difference is startling. You’re not sure how to navigate the situation.

Before you know it you’ve been unceremoniously relocated to his bedroom, and he is pressing you against the door the second it closes behind you with a heavy, loud THUD.

For a moment, the only sound that fills the space is that of the music beyond the wooden barrier. The bass is no longer indistinguishable with your heart beat – the stuttering rhythm that echoes against your rib cage is all you.

Satoru inhales deeply as though to calm himself down, only to let out a long, low groan immediately after. The sound affects you more than it probably should, heat winding pleasantly up your spine.

“What was that?” He demands, brows snapping together. It takes you a moment to realise that he’s most likely referring to Mei Mei being horny on main just before. His massive frame boxes you in against the door in such a way that you’re almost embarrassed by how much it makes your tummy flutter.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you breathe, chin tilted up as you hold his gaze. Something feral flickers through his expression.

“Oh, don’t be cute.” The words snap into the air, causing your breath to hitch. Satoru’s eyes flick to your forearm, where the slightest bruise still remains from the last time you were in close quarters like this. He swallows, piercing gaze returning to your own.

“I told you.” Satoru’s words leave in a snarl, his fingers firm against the flesh of your hips. His own body is so close to yours that you can feel the heat of it, the tingle of electricity that arcs between you. “That I would be able to smell it if another vampire so much as breathed near you. Did you think I wouldn’t notice you getting chummy with one in my own home?”

You can easily recall him saying that to you almost a fortnight ago, when he had been commenting that he could tell you hadn’t been bitten before thanks to his sharp senses and all that. You didn’t think he was lying. You are surprised that he cares, though. Something like indignation bubbles beneath your lungs, because how dare the bastard spout that shit when he just spent the last two weeks since your ‘encounter’ pretending you didn’t exist.

“Not sure why you give a shit,” you retort, squashing down a whine that begins to rise in your throat when his hips begin to press into yours. “Seemed like you were done with me after you finally got that taste you wanted so bad.”

His brows scrunch together, appearing confused for a second amongst the agitation on his features. You decide to fill the gap in the conversation on his behalf.

“I really was just a Sip ‘n’ Dip to you, huh,” you scoff, letting your head fall back against the door. His eyes snap to the column of your throat, more of which is now exposed. “At least now I know the only thing you want from me is my blood. Really saved me some grief there, Satoru.”

“Excuse me?”

When your eyes slide back to his face, he looks like you’ve physically struck him. His fingers dig into your hips almost out of habit, just shy of being painful. Anger still bubbles beneath your sternum, and you glare at him.

“By the way, as far as I’m aware, biting me once doesn’t give you any exclusive rights to my blood, so where the hell do you get off getting so shitty because someone else took a whiff–“

Satoru snaps.

“I don’t just want your blood,” he snarls, lips curling away from pin-prick sharp fangs. He has the nerve to look insulted. “I want you, you stupidly oblivious pain in my ass. All of you.”

He then leans in, erasing any foreign scents lingering on you and replacing it with something of his own, whatever pheromone bullshit vampires do. You’re too busy trying to stop your heart from having palpitations to focus on it too much because what the fuck did he just say—

“Do you have any idea how close I am to losing myself to a frenzy, like a fucking fledgling?!” His lips brush over the pulse point at your neck, and then teeth, razor-sharp and full of promise, drag over the skin of your clavicle, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. You shiver, flushing with heat and desire. The threat of another bite is already enough to have your body reacting in memory of how the last one felt. You want him, god you want him so, so badly.

“I haven’t fed since then because I can’t get the taste of you out of my head, and I can’t stomach anything else. I can’t stop thinking about the noises you made when I sank my teeth into you, and the scent of absolute desire that filled the entire fucking room the second the venom kicked in for you.” Satoru’s words are punctuated by a prick just below your collarbone, the brief sting eliciting a gasp. Warmth begins to trickle thinly from the site and is quickly staunched by a press of his tongue, and he moans. You’re so painfully aroused that it nearly makes you dizzy. He groans, long and suffering. “Just like now.”

He moves lower and lower, hauling you off the floor and completely into his hold so his mouth can reach your chest without stooping. Suddenly in the air, you can’t help the way you yelp and wrap your legs tightly around his hips – which, in turn, presses the heat of your core against the very prominent bulge there. You both echo a groan.

“Coward,” you manage to pant, out of sheer spite if nothing else. “Stupid idiot. I clearly want you. I literally could not have been any more obvious, you’re so –“

His teeth sink into the exposed top of your breast, retracting once they puncture deep enough to get a good flow. Then, he latches firmly onto the flesh, sucking it into his mouth. The act startles a moan out of you, the venom from the initial bite already transmuting the pain into heady pleasure and sending heat through your veins, all while kicking your heart into an even faster beat. Perhaps one of the best perks of the venom is that after that first dose settles in, the only part of the process left for you to feel is pleasure.

Even while you’re unable to help the way your hips roll into his own, and unable to ignore the feral, sinful moans vibrating against your chest as he suckles the wound he made and drinks from you, you manage to continue insulting him.

“You’re so stupid, why the hell did you avoid me for two weeks huh?” A moan breaks up your complaint as he swipes his tongue in broad movements over the bite, his hips snapping into yours and pressing you further into the door. The wood creaks, but neither of you pay it any mind. You can barely function around the incredible sensation of his cock grinding against you through layers of clothing. “All you did was send mixed messages and piss me off and, ngh fuck–“

He pulls back enough that you can see the flush in his face, the feral gleam in his eyes and the smear of blood over swollen lips. His brows are furrowed, but he’s too besotted by the taste of you to have as much heat behind his glare as he did previously.

“There are some things you can’t take back,” he grits out, tongue coming to clean the red from his lips. Your heart stutters, pulse thudding in your ears. “Especially for my kind. If I didn’t stay away, I probably would have ended up doing one of those things.”

Your core positively throbs with need, clenching around nothing. The extent to which you want him right now has you more irritable than usual. “Satoru, I wouldn’t have let you drink from me if I wasn’t interested in everything else it would entail—“

“You don’t understand,” Satoru groans, freeing a hand to rip at the material of your shirt. Clawed fingertips slice through with ease, taking out the bra straps underneath as well. He makes quick work of the band beneath your chest and the underwear is then torn from your form and thrown somewhere in the background. The material of your top remains, and he yanks it down below your aching breasts, watching with rapt attention as they bounce free heavily. Barely allowing you time to moan, he lifts you higher in his arms and dives down to drag his teeth over the swollen globes. He nips and nibbles across the sensitive skin, eliciting all sorts of sounds from you and an unbearable amount of desire that shoots straight between your legs. You can feel slick arousal trickling from your aching cunt with each new miniscule bite Satoru delivers, but honestly at this point you’re too horny to be embarrassed.

“I already want everything you can give me, and more.” He bites the inside of your breast and the flesh gives easily beneath the razor-sharp point of his fangs. One of his hands comes to grip the other side of your chest while he laps and sucks at the blood welling in the wound. Your nipples are painfully hard and you feel like you could cry in relief when his long, nimble fingers begin to deliver them some much-needed attention. “I want every single part of you and I don’t want to share. This is the way I am built. I can’t do this with you again and let you go afterwards. I want you to be mine.”

You probably shouldn’t find that as romantic as you do, but aren’t really in a position to psycho-analyse your response right now. It’s not all that surprising, either, since you recall someone mentioning to you before how strongly vampires bond with their partner when they finally make their choice. As it happens, his confession serves to not only make your heart soar but your pussy throb. You’ve been pining for this man for years, so even amongst the haze of lust clouding your mind you don’t have to think about how to respond to it.

This is, after all, the solution you were hoping for two weeks ago.

“I don’t want you to let me go, or take anything back. Please bite me again, mark me up–” You pause to gasp, Satoru having shoved your skirt up to bunch around your hips. Your panties are gone a split-second later, likely discarded in the same manner as your bra, and the hand that was at your breast is now trailing your slit and gathering all the slick that has pooled there. His middle finger dips in, causing a stutter in your breath. You lean forward to whisper in his ear, snowy strands of hair tickling your cheeks as you do so. “And please, please fuck me, Satoru.”

Something snaps in him, and he doesn’t need to be told twice.

A feral snarl escapes him, a gravelly “fuck” the only warning you get before his teeth sink down just above your nipple, fangs retracting once blood wells to the surface, and he pulls both the wound and your stiffened peak into his mouth, sucking hard. There isn’t a single ounce of pain, only the white-hot pleasure that shoots to your clit and has you keening as a result, hands scrabbling for purchase along his broad shoulders. That free hand that was at your slit has made quick work of his pants and is now guiding his scalding member to slap against your clit, and then press against your entrance while you recover from the shock of pleasure.

You expected him to be well-endowed, and you’re not at all disappointed. Satoru’s cock is fat and long, and with one roll of his hips it spears right into you. There is no resistance, you’re far too aroused and wet for there to be any, but the feeling of being split open by such a monster quite literally knocks the breath out of you. You hardly recognise the noise that escapes you as one of your own, hands gripping the vampire’s hair and shoulder so tightly you’d be worried about hurting him if he was human. He isn’t, though, and without even noticing your grip continues drinking from you while latched to your breast, tongue pressing and rolling your aching nipple all the while.

A second is all you get to adjust to the foreign length inside you before Satoru rolls his hips back with a moan, the fat head of his cock dragging against your walls as he does so, and then slams it back in. He builds a rhythm immediately that is almost animalistic in its desperation and fervour, each thrust firm and hitting so deep inside that you honest to god think it has you seeing stars. Whines and moans tumble from your mouth, no longer able to be held back when the only thing your brain can comprehend is the sheer pleasure and ecstasy that burns and sparks along your limbs. He begins to hit a certain spot when he fucks up into your heat that has you clenching around him, slick gushing forth.

“FUCK.” He rips away from your chest to tilt his head back in a rough, stilted moan, his hands gripping and digging into the meat of your thighs where they melt into your ass. In the absence of his mouth, blood begins to dribble down the swell of your breast. His crystalline eyes are hazy and blown out in lust, brows drawn together and expression twisted in pleasure, his breath coming in pants. He is visibly barely holding it together, completely drunk on the taste and feel of you– and it simultaneously is the hottest and sweetest thing you’ve ever seen. “Yes, fuck, squeeze me just like that.”

You oblige, relishing in the full-body shiver that tears through him in response. He bites your name out amidst a tortured groan, hands shifting to your hips. His mouth returns to clean up the mess he left on your breast, lips latching around your nipple to suck and pull once more, and it’s almost enough to distract you from the way he suddenly begins to lift you by the hips and drop you back down on his cock in time with his thrusts. Almost. You have to bite back a scream at how fucking good it feels, the pressure and pace and just how full you feel. You can feel yourself rapidly beginning to come undone.

With the combination of his venom’s aphrodisiac effects and the sheer amount of time you’ve spent longing for this, you don’t imagine you’re going to last much longer. If the unforgiving pace of Satoru’s hips is anything to go by, you estimate the same to be the case for him.

He groans into your chest, releasing your breast to bounce in time with his thrusts, the action accompanied by an almost audible pop, and shifts his hold to free a hand. The pressure of two fingers against your clit has you crying out, body jerking at the sudden rush of pleasure – your head whips down to find him already looking at you, gaze swinging from the juncture of your thighs to your eyes. Evidently pleased by the expression he finds on your face, he continues his circling of your clit and leans his head down to trail kisses from your already-healing chest, up the column of your throat, across the line of your jaw, until he finally arrives at your lips.

“Mine,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours in a feather-light caress. His baby-blue eyes are lidded heavily and almost dazed, coherent thought lost to the throes of pleasure and his most simple instincts. He nicks your lip at the same time as he angles a particularly wonderful thrust, the head of his cock hitting against that spot that makes you see stars and release a loud, wanton cry. “You’re all mine.”

You pull back to nod rapidly, unable to form words when all you can think – all you can feel – is the throbbing pleasure of his cock splitting you open with each heavy thrust. His head follows, lips seeking your own once more. The kiss is hot, and needy, and his oversized canines scrape your bottom lip more than once, and yet all you can do is return the fervour in between moans and whines. His hand is still at work between your legs, and you feel in your bones that you’re really not going to last much longer at this rate.

Satoru releases your mouth with a final nip, and moves his head to nestle it in the juncture of your neck and shoulder. He groans, low and long, and the vibration turns to a shiver as it travels over your skin. His lips begin to move.

“Say it.”

You struggle to think let alone figure out what he wants, lost in the current of your rapidly approaching orgasm. His fingers pick up speed, aided by the generous amount of arousal still gushing from your pussy in between thrusts. It takes everything you have not to scream, your hips bucking.

“Say it,” he says again, an oddly uncertain note infiltrating his rumbling gasp. He utters your name while nosing at your throat and you feel yourself melt. “Please, say it.”

Realisation as to what he is looking for hits you at the same time as your orgasm. “Fuck! I’m– I’m yours, all yours! God, fuck—“

Satoru’s pace stutters, undone by your pussy clenching and throbbing around him in a fight to keep him inside, and it takes him a moment to recover before he begins to fuck into you again in earnest, movements growing sloppy and frantic but no less punishing. It all serves to prolong the wave of absolute bliss you’re riding in the wake of what has to be the strongest orgasm of your life. Those vampiric toxins are no joke.

You wind your arms around his neck, clutching him close and trying not to lose your mind as he fucks up into you, the drag of his cock against your walls somehow even more delicious than before. He mouths at your neck, hips beginning to stutter once more. You clench around him, and he breaks. There is barely enough time for a curse to escape his mouth before its clamping on your neck, teeth digging in deep— deeper than he’s ever bitten you before— and tingling heat spreading out from the puncture sites. He gives one, two, three final, dragging thrusts, body trembling and muscles taut, before his cock throbs and he buries it inside you, spilling into you with a deep, rumbling groan against your throat.

Soft, panting moans escape you as his hips continue to roll into you softly, riding out his orgasm, and you bite back a wanton groan as you feel his cum beginning to trickle out around his softening member. As soon as he comes back to his senses to a degree, he has the presence of mind to navigate the two of you to the bed before he loses strength in his legs, his mouth slipping from your neck after he laves his tongue over the wound to seal it. Unceremoniously, he drops the two of you against the mattress, but surprisingly keeps you snugly in his hold and his length still buried inside you. Ignoring how hot that is, you decide to view the action from a purely romantic light and nearly melt into the mattress.

Vaguely, you register the thumping club beats still booming beyond the confines of the room. Evidently the party was still ongoing.

“This wasn’t how I planned for today to go,” he admits, after a few beats of contented silence. He nuzzles his face to your chest, dragging his nose across your collarbone. “I was going to talk to you tomorrow morning.”

You snort; that’s likely.

“… This is how I planned for today to go, though.”

He huffs a laugh before pressing his lips together, clearly trying not to enable you further. He allows for another few moments to pass, and in that time you let your own eyes flutter closed.

“You can’t change your mind, by the way,” he says suddenly, tone odd. You open your eyes and turn to see his crystalline gaze directed to your neck, where the latest of his bite marks sits proudly. “I may have done one of those things I can’t take back.”

You’re not sure how to tell him it’s not as bad of a thing as he thinks it to be.

likes and reblogs are appreciated <3 lmk what you think!

[heliads]

I love you writing and I was hoping you could write Ben Florian x VK!Reader the reader is Lefou's kid. A soulmate AU where the negative things you think about yourself are marked on your soulmate's skin. Reader only has one or two things because Ben is from Auradon and has a good life and family. While Ben has around half a dozen. Reader is the one who gives Ben the love potion. During the lake scene they notice Ben is their soulmate and tries (but fails) to hide it thinking he deserves better

masterlist

There really is no good place for a prince. They are political figureheads in every sense of the phrase— too young to actually rule, too old to be allowed to skip state functions. They sit in corners of expensive meetings and cut ribbons in front of newly opened buildings, but they can’t do a whole lot except smile and pose. 

Shame your friend seems so fixated on capturing one, then. It feels like you’ve just barely left the Isle of the Lost, only bid farewell to the entirety of your prior life experience hours ago, and yet already Mal is scheming about how to best tear down everything around you. If Prince Ben is the best way to fulfill her nefarious plans, then so be it.

The only problem is that you’re now involved in all of this, too. Mal wants a wand and so she’ll take a prince to get there, but as one of her best friends, you’ve been drafted into the plot to catch a prince. Ben won’t have any idea what’s coming. Shame, he would probably run if he had any clue.

Mal’s good at covering her tracks, though, she always has been. You can remember elaborate plans from when you were much younger to steal cookies or cloaks, spellbooks and shoes. At this point, hearing Mal tell you that she’s going to bewitch the crown prince of Auradon into falling in love with her shouldn’t surprise you, just the fact that she’s taken this long to come up with the idea.

Usually, you have no problem going along with Mal’s little adventures. They’re entertaining, at the least, a good way to pass a few days when you’ve already gone over every alleyway and hiding place on the Isle at least a dozen times in the last month. The issue is that you’re not on the Isle anymore, and maybe– just maybe– disrupting everything here isn’t entirely what you want to do.

Mal doesn’t know this, of course. None of your fellow VKs do. Every time they monologue and moan about how they can’t wait to get out of this place, you find yourself holding your tongue, biting back your real thoughts about how the school isn’t actually as bad as you feared. Sure, the constant judgment from the other children of princes and princesses isn’t all that fun, but Auradon Prep has its positives, too. For one thing, you think your soulmate might be here.

What a terrible thing for the child of a villain to prioritize. You’ve heard Mal scoff at the idea of a soulmate, and although Evie is certainly more interested in the idea than some of your other friends, you’re still not sure that you’d find a welcome audience amongst their ranks when it comes to tracking down your soulmate. After all, the odds of that soulmate being from Auradon and not the Isle are pretty high. They’ve all but told you that themselves.

All things considered, for a society with such control over magic and spells, it’s pretty difficult to find your soulmate. You’d always wondered why those in charge couldn’t shorten the whole affair to something more simple– a name on the wrist, perhaps, or an invisible string that only the two of you could see– but instead, soulmate magic went the complicated route. How lovely.

The story about the origin of the soulmate magic is convoluted and ancient, going back generations and changing with each family. The general consensus is that soulmates were created to preserve the sanctity of true love, with the idea that soulmates should be able to love each other entirely, flaws and all. So, when you think something negative about yourself, those very same thoughts will show up on the skin of your soulmate, something like a warning label for what they’re going to get themselves into.

This is all well and good for people with few negative thoughts, maybe they’ll have something here and there about a bad sports result or a poor test grade that their soulmate can chuckle over before meeting them. For you, though? You, the child of a villain, cursed to live forever on a too-small island with the other convicts and criminals, you have had more fears and hated things about yourself than most. Your soulmate must be covered in unhappy musings, which only makes you feel worse about yourself than before. A self-perpetuating cycle of the worst kind.

By contrast, the startling absence of your soulmate’s negative thoughts on your own skin makes you certain that they couldn’t be from the Isle of the Lost. There are only one or two fears on your skin, proof of loving parents and a stable home, and they’re minor things like a bad hair day or a fear of not doing their absolute best. These change, often leaving every few months to be replaced by something else insignificant.

What makes you most certain that your soulmate is the child of a royal is the one negative thought that has stayed on your skin since the very beginning. Your soulmate, whoever they are, is terrified that they will let down the king and queen. Only someone with close ties to the royalty could have such a fear, so it’s proof that your soulmate is somewhere here on Auradon.

So maybe you don’t want to leave this place, not yet. Not until you can learn who your soulmate is. It’ll be almost impossible to track them down on this information alone, but supposedly that’s how the whole thing is supposed to work. You learn about the worst parts of your soulmate, and then you get to love the best of them. The only problem is that you’re fairly sure that if your soulmate is a royal, they won’t want to love you at all.

It’s easier to ignore the whole affair. Easier to agree to Mal’s plan when she proposes enchanting Prince Ben. At least another one of your friend’s schemes will keep your mind off the soulmate affair.

That’s what you tell yourself, at least, but your conscience is starting to get steadily more vocal as the days go by. Ben is a nice guy, which hurts, surprisingly. Although the love spell may have been cast on Mal, as one of Mal’s closest friends, you’re around the two of them all the time. The boy you see is someone that you wish could be your soulmate. He may be a prince, and you may be a villain, but he makes you want to believe in love after all.

You certainly have the capacity for such musings. For some reason, the love spell didn’t take all that well, and although Ben is now compelled to stay with Mal more than he was before, it’s not like he’s totally obsessed with her as Mal had hoped. Mal claims it’s because love spells can never work fully due to the soulmate issue, like having a soulmate is a kind of shield to protect you against that sort of enchantment, but regardless, Ben has just enough independent thought that he can tell you jokes and try to make you smile like– well, like he tries to do with Mal.

The realization that Ben is a genuinely good person, and worse, someone you don’t want to trick, haunts you as you fall further into Mal’s scheme. You’ve been trying to push the whole thing from your mind, letting Ben join your soulmate in the depths of your mind you don’t want to touch, but your train of thought keeps circling back to him despite your best attempts otherwise.

Besides, it doesn’t help that Mal keeps trying to involve you in the plot. Right now, the two of them are at the Enchanted Lake, out on a cute little date. Mal had been making mock disgusted faces at you the whole time she was getting ready, but some part of yourself can’t stop whispering that this doesn’t seem so bad, actually, that the thought of being out here alone with Ben would make for a wonderful day instead of the tedious chore Mal is making it out to be.

Ben doesn’t know you’re here, though. Mal wanted backup in case something happened, so you’re lingering in the woods to keep anyone from stumbling upon the scene and also holding onto more magical baked goods in case Mal feels the need to renew the spell. It’s kind of like torture, strolling through this beautiful forest, knowing that Ben is so close and you are helping hold him under the thrall of this plot.

The storm in your mind must be thundering too loudly for you to think straight, because you lose track of yourself and accidentally walk too close to the lake. You weren’t supposed to be spotted, but before you can back away and melt back into the foliage, Ben looks up and sees you. You panic, immediately heading the way you’d come, but you hear footsteps after you moments later and Ben manages to track you down before you can go too far. Mal is so going to kill you for messing with her plan.

“Sorry,” you murmur, eyes wide when he finally catches up to you, “I didn’t realize the two of you were– I’ll go now.”

Ben shakes his head. “No, no, it’s alright. It’s not like we have a monopoly on the woods.”

He’s dripping water, most likely due to a recent dip in the lake, and you can’t seem to stop your gaze from following the path of the droplets as they cascade down his shoulders, across his hands, and, most importantly of all, over the swooping letters of the fears of his soulmates. 

Usually, Ben wears long sleeves or something else to hide them. You can see why now– there are many of them, many more than you, perhaps half a dozen in all. You can’t read all of them from where you’re standing, just snippets about how a villain’s kid shouldn’t have a soulmate, how they’ll never amount to much, things like that. Things like what you’ve been thinking recently.

Ben must catch on to your train of thought, because he smiles weakly, absentmindedly scratching at a sentence proclaiming that his soulmate isn’t worth the good luck they get. “Yeah, my soulmate’s a little stressed, I guess. Hopefully, I can talk about that with them soon. I want them to know that they’re worth it, wherever they are.”

It had never occurred to you that hating yourself would make your soulmate this obsessed. You have no proof that Ben is your soulmate but– 

But, as you watch, you can see a new fear appearing out of nowhere, wrapping itself around Ben’s left wrist. I’m not good enough for a soulmate this good. Just what you were thinking mere moments ago. It’s like proof.

Ben looks up slowly, and although you were never blessed with the ability to read minds, you swear you can tell exactly what he’s thinking right now. “Are you–” he starts, ends, tries again, “Do you know who your soulmate is?”

You can do several things at this moment. You can confirm what you’re mostly sure is true, you can lie, you can pretend you hadn’t heard him. You spot movement in the trees behind him, a flash of purple, and remember belatedly that Mal is still somewhere at the Enchanted Lake, waiting for Ben to come back and wondering why you’re holding him here for so long.

All of a sudden, the reality of the situation comes crashing down around your shoulders. This is not something that can happen. Ben is a prince. You are the child of a villain, and the friend of another VK who’s counting on you to continue fooling Ben so she can pursue her latest mad plan. There is no world in which this works out.

So, you force a smile, banishing all thoughts back into the deep recesses of your brain once more. “No,” you say, “I don’t know. I think they’re a VK, though.”

Ben’s face falls in a flash. “Really? Because I thought–”

You shake your head quickly. “I don’t– it’s not me. I think Mal is waiting for you, though. You shouldn’t keep her for long.”

Ben glances back over his shoulder in memory of the girl he’s left somewhere in the woods behind him, and when he looks back, you’re gone. You’re good at running. It’s a skill you’ve perfected over the years. You just never thought you’d have to use it now.

Prince Ben is your soulmate. Impossible. True. Mal comes back later that afternoon, tells you the date went splendidly despite your accidental intrusion. Ben must not have let the brief moment in the woods faze him for long. It hurts more than you care to admit.

There is only so much running a VK can do, try as they might to pretend otherwise. You avoid Ben at all costs, hoping that whatever foolish war is currently being fought inside your heart will come to a tolerable ceasefire if you just ignore it long enough. Mal tells you that the plan is going swimmingly, she’s never seen the prince more excited about the VKs and the upcoming coronation. You nod and smile and tell her that you’re glad everything is going to plan, but inside, you cannot seem to stop your mind from screaming. 

And then, all of a sudden, despite your best attempts to remain out of sight, Prince Ben finds you. It’s completely out of the blue, so casual that you almost don’t realize it’s happening until he’s sitting down at your table in the library and it’s too late to run. 

You feel like an animal caught in a trap. He’s just smiling like nothing is the matter. “I know it’s you,” he says by way of hello. 

Your heart is stuck in your throat. “What?”

“I know it’s you,” Ben repeats, “I know you’re my soulmate. I had the Fairy Godmother do a little spell so I could check for you, but I think I knew since that day at the lake.”

You frown. “You can do that?”

He shrugs, looking a little embarrassed. “Not everyone can, I think. But I, uh, insisted.”

You grin. “Prince privileges?”

“Something like that.” He’s smiling, though, maybe pleased that you’re not trying to run off this time. “But you knew even without the spell, didn’t you?”

That does shake your uncertain sense of calm. “Yes,” you admit, “but I didn’t think you— I didn’t think it would work out.”

The look on Ben’s face is genuinely heartbreaking. “What, just because I’m a prince?”

He says it so casually, it’s almost funny. “Yes, Ben, because you’re a prince and I’m a VK. I mean, my dad was Lefou. He literally tried to ruin the happy ever after of your parents, why would you want someone like me to be your soulmate?”

“Same reason you shouldn’t be afraid to want me. You’re not your father, Y/N, and I’m not my parents. We’re just us, and I know that I want you to be my soulmate. I have since the start. I was hoping you would tell me you knew, but after a few days went by and you still said nothing, I figured I had to take matters into my own hands. Even if that meant using a spell or two.”

You keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to laugh in your face and tell you it’s ridiculous to think that he would ever want a VK as a soulmate, but he doesn’t. In fact, you don’t think he ever will. As impossible as it seems, Ben wants someone who isn’t from a perfect fairy tale. He wants you. And that, lovely and wonderful and absolutely crazy, sounds like a fairly good happily ever after for you. 

disney tag list: @rogueanschel, @lovesanimals0000, @mayfieldss, @eclliipsed

[chuluoyi]

Could you do a brother’s best friend!Megumi x reader?

like her brother being overprotective, but being oblivious of his best friend’s crush on her sister?

(not the) best kept secret

- fushiguro megumi x reader

cool, brooding and handsome. your crush on your brother's best friend is a secret you only keep to yourself. little do you know, he too feels the same. and so, your love story—and the trials and tribulations that come with it—begins.

genre/warnings: college au, reader being yuji's little sister and him and your family being protective, fluff, mutual pining, tiny weeny angst if you squint? with happy ending ofc!

notes: awww anon, this ask is so cute and so hidden love-coded! did you watch hidden love too? because this piece draws inspiration from that ehe. and uh it turned out longer than i expected and i haven't proofread it but pls enjoy!

general masterlist

You have had a crush on your brother’s best friend, Megumi, for a while now.

Actually, scratch that. For a long time now, since you were in middle school, in fact.

In your eyes, he was really cool. He was reserved and not very talkative, which was a stark contrast to your brother Yuji, who could talk a mile a minute every day. It always baffled you why the two could be bosom friends.

And he treated you well. Megumi may have bonked Yuji’s head at any given chance, but with you, he was different. He was gentler, kinder, and overall just considerate. Sometimes he would even pick you up in your brother’s place, and your heart would beat out of your chest from sheer giddiness.

Little did you know, he too didn’t quite see you as a mere sister of his friend.

It started with head pats. You heart would flutter and he would be more conscious of his actions. Yuji had furrowed an righteous eyebrow at the sight.

“Oi, Fushiguro, that’s some favoritism there!” he whined. “I helped you with homework and what did I get—”

“Shut up, Itadori.”

And then the text messages. You didn’t know how or why you ended up texting him on daily basis. He was the one who texted you first a few months ago, having obtained your number from a mutual friend in your circle to ask about the best gift for Yuji’s birthday. And somehow up until now, you found yourselves telling him how your day went, and he the same.

you: i've just finished my class today. so tired megumi: oh? mine is still in session. quite boring you: i see. well, ganbatte!

Those little interactions made your day, and for now, you were quite satisfied with them. But when your phone buzzed once again, signaling a new text, you couldn't resist the urge to swiftly open the messaging app to expect the expected.

megumi: wanna grab lunch later?

It was so incredibly childish, but you felt like winning.

Lunch invitations were often. You spent the whole duration of lunch with him almost every day at this point. The two of you talked about many mundane things, and he would have this small smile whenever you griped about your hard tests or annoying classmates.

Head pats. Texts. Lunches.

And then there was Nobara.

Now, don't get me wrong. You adored her—she was a fun person, pretty and you even looked up to her as your role model at some point. If Yuji somehow ended up with her, you were sure to give them 200% of your blessings.

But seeing her with Megumi was another story. Sometimes you envied your brother's close knit group of three. They had been friends since middle school, and it was granted that Nobara would spend a whole load of time with both your brother and Megumi. With Yuji, she was harsher and didn't take him seriously, but you couldn't deny what your peers had been whispering and what you yourself found very plausible—she and Megumi would make a fine match.

It wasn't your intention at all, but ever since you saw him and Nobara at the toy shop together, pulling for popular merchandises in gacha box, you started losing confidence in yourself and inadvertently put this distance between you and him.

At first it was subtle, Megumi didn't even realize it. But when your replies were few and far in between, he decided it was time to address the problem.

"You don't answer my texts," he stated one day, barely catching you at campus during the lunchtime. Now that he thought about it, you kept denying his lunch invitations too. "Are you avoiding me?"

"I, um," you stuttered. You didn't anticipate running into him, to be honest, and so you were at loss of words. "It isn't like that..."

Megumi figured that he had done something to make you feel like you should avoid him, but he didn't want the two of you to be in this awkward situation any longer, so he led you away from the crowd to your usual place of hanging out after lunch—the rooftop.

"Have I done something?" he asked warily. "It's okay, you can tell me."

"No, Megumi, I—"

"I don't want us to be like—this," Megumi said, his face contorting with a deep frown. "I don't like it at all."

Typically, he regarded friendships as a pain, but not with you. Not with the girl he had been pining over for who knows how long now.

Yuji's sister. He had to remind himself of that fact so many times and yet his heart didn't seem to get it. You were his best friend's dearest sister, and yet he fell for you regardless. If Yuji knew, he would definitely had some opinions on this.

And so for the last few months, he kept it hidden under his sleeves. He approached you, befriended you, took you out on lunch dates—acting on his growing feelings for you and yet he didn't have the courage to confess still.

But enough was enough. If not confessing meant losing you altogether, then he was willing to take the risk. At the very least, if you did reject him, he would have gone down with a fight.

"Y/N, I don't know if you're already aware of this or not, but..." he gulped. Apparently this wasn't as easy as he thought, especially when you met his gaze with your cutely confused ones.

"I have feelings for you. I... like you, quite much."

His voice was clear, without any hint of doubt. You were taken aback and widened your eyes out of surprise.

"You do...?" you shyly asked him back, finding it hard to believe. Fushiguro Megumi, the boy you've been crushing on since you were 15, when you were only able to hide behind Yuji and saw him from afar. The boy who once was indifferent to you, was now confessing his feelings for you? He liked you back in the same way you liked him?

"I do," he replied with clarity, and then a smile. That small smile that always made your insides do somersaults. "I want to ask you out for a while now, but since well... you know... out of consideration for your brother, I felt like I couldn't simply whisk you away."

To his surprise, you laughed, and Megumi found himself breathless. The way you laugh was so mesmerizing in his eyes, reminding him why he could fall in love with you in the first place.

"I like you too, Megumi."

And that was all he needed. Apparently that confirmation was enough to forget that you were the sister of his long-time friend, and that it was fine even if you were. After all, since when was it a crime to romance your best friend's sister?

Still, you two decided to keep it under the wraps first. Springing this on Yuji would startle him, you reasoned, and he agreed. It was more convenient this way anyways.

Your relationship with Megumi was a happy one. He was curt, but never failed to look out for you. He remembered things you liked, and would take you out on places you wanted to go. Arguments were there—granted, sometimes he was just too stubborn, so you may have a clash of opinions—but in the end, the two of you always managed to work it out.

But there was always something melancholic in Megumi that you weren't sure you could touch at all. Perhaps it was due to his upbringing—his incomplete family. You tried to fill that gap, giving him many fun and happy memories, hoping it would replace his sad ones. He was grateful for that.

Nonetheless, the reality persisted that your brother, Yuji, remained completely oblivious to all of this. Yuji still thought that you were his innocent younger sister, and Megumi was his best bro. Sometimes you felt bad to do all this behind his back, and yet you made no move to rectify it.

“Hey, let’s ask Fushiguro to join too!” Yuji would say, and you would agree. And then, in front of him, you and Megumi would refrain from being too friendly, and he would be none the wiser.

All things have karma. You have built your karma too, for deceiving your kind and sweet brother.

"Fushiguro! How could you?!"

When Yuji's fist collided with his jaw, honestly Megumi had given up on fighting back, because one, there was no chance of winning against him, and two, your scream pierced the air, filled with worry for him.

You two just had to be found out in the worst way possible—while making out. It was wrong in so many levels in the first place. Why and how did you even initiate making out in your house that you shared with your brother?

"It could've been anyone," Yuji fumed with anger, his teeth clenching. "Anyone at all! And yet it has to be Y/N—my own sister! Fushiguro, have you ever considered the magnitude of betrayal this is to me?"

"Yuji! Please stop!" you tried to intervene. "He's not at wrong—it was me who—"

"No, you don't get any say in this!" for the first time, you saw your kind brother got angry and it made you quiver in fear. Yuji had never been angry, not to you. "You too, Y/N. How could do this behind my back? The least you could do is telling me!"

"I'm an adult!" you stressed, now irritated at this display of protectiveness from him. "I can date whoever I want and you can't just punch the man who happens to be my boyfriend!"

Honestly, if asked, Yuji wasn’t like 100% against your relationship with Megumi. He and Megumi practically grew up together, he knew the best and worst parts of him, and overall he still considered him decent.

But what made it hurt was that the two of you decided to leave him out. It made him doubt everything he knew about his best friend. How could he trust his sister to someone he found hard to trust?

He turned to Megumi, who was still slumped on the floors of his garage. “No. If he really likes you that much, then he will willingly accept this.”

Megumi understood, if his own sister was dating… let’s say, someone like Gojo, whom he trusted but not at the same time, he too would definitely beat the crap out of him.

And so he willingly endured all the blows. Yuji had to let off steam, and this pain was worth everything if it meant he would give his blessing for you.

Yuji was taken aback that his friend actually let him do this. When Megumi got thrown one last time and almost passed out, Yuji finally decided that it was the end.

His best friend and his sister… it was almost laughable if he didn’t feel like the biggest fool between the two of you.

He saw how you immediately sauntered towards him with tears in your eyes, muttering several apologies. Yuji wanted to snort, but then Megumi took a hold of your hand that was on his bruised cheek, and smiled, saying that it was okay.

And despite himself, his heart felt warm. Seeing the usual gruff and cold Megumi be this… soft with you seemed to open his eyes to something more.

Looking back, he could’ve had realized it when Megumi started to get touchy with you. He completely missed that the head pats were actually his subtle way of expressing his fondness for you.

Yuji decided to leave you be. At least he had made his point across, and he hated to say it outright, but perhaps, it was okay after all for you to be with him.

Okay didn’t mean you two had obtained his full blessing, though. But another event soon changed his perspective.

“Itadori,” Megumi’s ragged breaths was what he registered first through the sudden phone call. “Please come here—Y/N—she was—”

It was Yuji’s first time to witness pure panic from Megumi. He proceeded to tell him how you had been in pain and then collapsed, and that he had brought you to the hospital.

When Yuji arrived at the hospital, he once again saw how restless his friend was over your wellbeing. He could no longer deny it—the sight moved him.

“Hey, you awake?” Megumi’s face was the first you saw when you awoke at the hospital bed. He looked so concerned, a frown creased deep in his face. “Are you not in pain anymore?”

No, not quite much anymore, you wanted to say, but your throat felt so dry and you only managed to shake your head lightly.

“That’s good,” he let out a relieved sigh, and that was when you notice your brother at the corner of the room, looking at you two with a somewhat exasperated expression, but then he smiled.

Who knew a severe case of appendicitis would lead to Yuji giving his complete approval for you to date his best friend, huh?

But life is nothing if not full of obstacles. The next obstacle you faced after Yuji’s finding out was your parents.

“Look Y/N, we know. Megumi is a good guy,” you mother started. “We've known him for a long time, of course, personality-wise, we have nothing against him.”

You bit your lower lip in frustration. Beside you at the dinner table, Yuji kept his silence, but listened attentively too.

“It’s just… the matters of his family,” your father added, carefully choosing his words.

“His father is never in the picture, is he? And there are also rather unsettling news about him too.” Your mother was always the one being more straightforward.

Both you and Yuji knew it already. As of now, Megumi only had his stepsister, and last you heard, his father was gambling somewhere and then became a convict. Megumi said he had cut ties with him, but there was no such thing as an ex-father. Until forevermore, Fushiguro Toji, a criminal, was his biological father.

“Mom, I know your concern,” Yuji had finally decided to step up, and you were grateful for that. “Fushiguro won’t end up—”

“Yes, we know,” your mother emphasized, letting out a sigh. “But we are your parents, Yuji, Y/N. If there’s even the slightest chance, we worry. We want the best for you. Always.”

You were at a loss.

You were young, and yet you already saw him in your distant future. Being with Megumi felt so right and comfortable. He was your safe space as you were his.

But you also understood where your parents’ concerns came from, or at least tried to. At least until you found out how your father approached Megumi to talk him into thinking your relationship over.

"How could you, Dad?" you asked, aghast. "You're... practically intimidating him into breaking up with me!"

"Y/N, listen—I never meant it like that," your father tried to explain himself, and yet you were already too heartbroken to hear him, and so you shut the door to your room, not giving him any chance.

Why did your relationship suddenly become everyone's business? Why couldn't they just let you be an adult?

Megumi could still hear your father's words rang in his ears.

"Y/N... we raised her with love and care," your father said with a forlorn expression. By all means, Megumi knew that he meant well. "She's always spoiled, my only daughter... Megumi-kun, you must understand, it's not easy for us too."

He knew that his rather colorful past would get in the way one way or another, and he had come to accept it. But it still stung, because of course, he wanted full blessings from the family of the girl he fell in love with.

You were like a ray of sunshine in his dreary life. Like Yuji, your presence had made an impact on him. Your cute smiles, pouts and vulnerability around him... he loved them all.

He would get upset when you looked sad, just as you were now.

"It's really okay... Y/N." He swiftly wiped your tears with his thumb, as you sniffled. "I didn't take it to heart. Your father is just worried about you... I can understand that."

"But still—h-he shouldn't do that," you replied amidst your small sobs. Above all, you didn't want your father to have spooked him. "Megumi... I don't want to break up with you."

And honestly he didn't expect that. You were afraid of him... leaving you?

He, who did everything he could, just to have you to be by his side?

"Sir, I know where you are coming from. As of now, I don't have much. But I can say this with confidence—I... love your daughter very much, and I will do everything in my power to make sure that she is happy."

"Stupid," he huffed, putting a hand on your head, before messing up your hair. And gosh, you were so cute, glaring at him through your lashes.

"I won't. I've told your father that too actually."

"Just give me two years," Megumi added with unwavering voice, staring at your father earnestly. "After graduation, I'm getting my life in order. I'll secure a stable job and do my best. I'm... going to prove it to you, and you can be the judge if I can finally deserve Y/N or not."

He was 16 when he knew you, seeing you as nothing but a little girl too timid to approach him. And he was 19 when he realized that you were everything he wanted in a girl of his dreams.

At one point in his life, Megumi thought it was okay to be alone. But ever since getting to know you, he realized that loving and being loved by you were the greatest happiness of existence.

"Thank you," he muttered afterwards, as you were still starstruck that he apparently had the balls to declare something like that before your father.

"Thank you for giving me so much love. Because of you, I realized that I too deserve to be loved."

You could feel tears glassing your eyes once again. “You are. I’m glad that you finally think so.”

And that was it—your love story. Something that had started when you were 15, and ended ten years later when you were 25, with swearing your love for each other in front of the sacred altar before your closest family and friends, and Megumi by your side.

[brainrotfm]

the sideshow spectacular: week one

☞ pairing: nurse!ryomen sukuna x f!reader

☞ word count: ~4.6k

☞ short description: yandere fertility nurse sukuna who thinks he's pulling a fast one on you except you're yan4yan and have masterminded this exact situation from the start

☞ content warnings: dark content, modern au, no curse au, yan4yan, yandere behavior, medical play kink, breeding kink, light bondage, inappropriate power dynamic, baby trapping, afab!reader, feminine descriptors + pronouns, blink and you miss it daddy kink, probably a lot more honestly i'm sorry for being a pervert

☞ notes: credit shhhhh don't look at what time this was posted i *definitely* made the cut off for week 1 also this came to me in a vision and then i feverishly wrote between today and yesterday also this is my first posted smut ever pls be nice also also also not beta'd not edited we die like men have fun xoxoxo

You have turned him into a monster.

You, with your kind smile, the way you offer it so carelessly to every person you meet. You, with your adorable gestures, fidgeting and fiddling with pens, magazines, the edges of your skirts as you sit in the waiting room. You, with those trusting eyes, lashes fluttering at every passing sensitivity. He could read your emotions clear as day, and spent too much of his time doing so, pretending to work behind an antiquated desktop as he side eyed you.

The other nurses had caught on, of course - ever watchful hens, they were quick to pinpoint his interest in you, tutting at him in the break room only for a moment about it being inappropriate to desire patients. Their admonishments turned teasing without him interfering, settling into their usual lust for office gossip without another acknowledgement. In truth, his coworkers were delighted, in fact, by the pink haired man "softening" over you.

This would have drawn his ire, even his retaliation in most instances. Until Sukuna realized he was purposely being slid your chart whenever your monthly appointment rolled around, an unexpected convenience in Sukuna's intricate plan to claim you as his own.

He had only heard of your husband in passing, the man only present at your introductory interview with the fertility team and the first few appointments before his obligation to you waned. Sukuna despised him for it on principle, but in practice, no other presence in the exam room meant having his bubble of heaven. A single half hour appointment, once a month, where he reviewed your chart, asked invasive questions about your health, took blood, gave the occasional ultrasound, offered advice on the repetitious nature of fertility treatments, and flirted his ass off as he watched you giggle and squirm under his attention. The prospect of cucking this faceless man only added to Sukuna's dark desires.

Today was finally the day. It was even circled on his desk calendar, red ink.

"You look handsome," you offered him the compliment easily, your voice obscuring the click of the door locking behind you both, back to him as you set your jacket on the extra chair. Sukuna preened for a second, smiling to himself.

Sukuna was wearing a tight, long sleeve black shirt beneath his favorite maroon red scrubs, the smallest hint of a chain beneath his collar, and comfortable black sneakers - none of his piercings, sadly, and since his interview, he had worn make up to cover his face and neck tattoos at work as well.

He knew you meant it too, as he diligently wore the exact same outfit to every one of your appointments since the first time you had complimented him all those months ago.

"Already buttering me up, you better not be trying to get out of your blood work," Sukuna teased as he opened one of the nearby cabinet drawers, retrieving his special black gloves that only he was allowed to use, quietly noting that none were missing with a smirk.

"You always remind me of a tattoo artist with those," you deflected, tossing him one of your oh-so pretty smiles.

"Y'know, I buy these with my own money, and I'm gonna let you in on a lil' secret... That's why, that's what I want you to think," Sukuna bantered back, so at ease around you that he rolled his sleeves up thoughtlessly before making a show out of snapping the nitrile against his wrists. He had never done that before.

You had caught wisps in the past, only question marks until today. Thick black bands of tattooed ink sat around his wrists, hidden now beneath his gloves that blended so well against them, it made sense why he liked them so much.

Your mouth went dry at the sight, licking your lips as you choked out to him, "I didn't know you had tattoos."

The tone of your voice had him raising a brow, lopsided smirk already in place, "Is that a deal breaker, baby?" If only you knew.

"Those can't be the only ones," you replied, and if Sukuna wasn't mistaken, there was a lilt of hope sitting between your words, causing his smirk to soften to a smile, his heart wrenching for a moment at you. You. He was going to ruin you.

That when he noticed that you were still standing awkwardly, your things deposited in the nearby chairs as you rocked on the balls of your feet, something about you seemingly overwhelming tense despite being in such good company. You were being different today too; Sukuna hoped you didn't sense something was amiss.

"Everything okay with you today, doll?"

"I, um... I was wondering if we could wait, actually, to do the ultra sound today," you started shyly, and he could tell you were fighting the urge to wring your hands as your fingertips jittered against your wrists. Despite your words, he continued to dig materials out of the cabinets, glancing at you over his shoulder as he spoke.

"You want to do blood first? Feeling bold today, sweet girl?" Sukuna hoped so, he had big plans for you. He turned from the cabinet to approach you to do the prep work. He didn't want to waste anymore time, but maybe having you light-headed from lack of blood wasn't such a bad idea - he stopped when he saw the look on your face.

"Is there any way I can have a physical exam today, actually? Y'know, like my annual one, but instead... now," your question was rushed as you looked toward him but not at him, and Sukuna knew this because he was staring you down, a predator honing in on his prey. He felt like he could hear your pulse from where he stood, and it made his mouth water.

"You mean your pelvic exam?" he repeated, almost dumbfounded at his luck - were you stupid or naive? Nurses didn't give pelvic exams, that was the doctor's job. Your chart only had an appointment for your usual round of bullshit, blood and ultrasound, Sukuna trying to upsell you hormones your insurance wouldn't cover, blah blah blah.

God, you were so pretty and dumb, was this on purpose? Were you trying to manipulate him? You'd been here enough times to know better, right ? When was the universe ever so giving? Sukuna figured there was really no way you'd fall for what he was about to try, sure this was your attempt at catching him red handed in his obsession over you, but he didn't care. He'd take the bait, even if it was a shot in the dark for you.

His head had cocked with his thoughts, a lopsided grin unfurling across his cheeks as he regarded you with darkening eyes, coughing to clear the husk of his arousal from his voice. "You know, the doctor has been in and out all morning. Something with her kids. I'd hate for you to get stuck waiting around for her. I could always administer the exam, if you'd like."

He very much could not, but he kept his wicked smirk in place, silently praying you wouldn't call his bluff. To Sukuna's delight, your gaze twitched between him and the exam table, knees rubbing together briefly before your hesitation subsided and you made a half step in its direction, wavering as you looked down at yourself. He understood in an instant, clicking his tongue in recognition as he went back to the drawers to dig out an exam gown for you, both your hands lingering on the package when he passed it forward.

"I'll step ou-"

"No, you can just... stay," you sounded much more confident now, cutting him off with a defiant look in your eye, the smallest curl of a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, "You're going to see everything anyway, right? J-just turn around, maybe?"

You were so cute, he wished he could kiss you right then. Using every ounce of his control to suppress his smirk, Sukuna turned on his heel and faced the opposing wall dutifully, the urge to peek over his shoulder at you easy to resist when he knew exactly where all this was leading. As if the wheels hadn't been in motion since before you had even arrived today.

It was sort of erotic, though, to hear the jostle of your clothes hitting the floor, knowing you were naked and so close to him, and being unable to touch or see. Not yet. A little more patience and he knew he would reap the best of rewards. You cleared your throat when you were ready and Sukuna turned, unable to hid his smirk now that he saw you in the silly canary yellow exam gown they gave people here. You were still adorable, though.

Stepping to the side, Sukuna pulled out the lowest shelf of the table to act as a foot stool and help you up, before moving to each side to unfurl the arms of the stirrups he'd be putting your feet into. He couldn't think about it too much or his cock might hear, already on thin ice until you were properly restrained. The room had grown painfully quiet, Sukuna unable to continue joking with you when he was barely keeping his hands off you.

It was taking every ounce of his self control to not start panting and drooling like a dog at the way you quietly obeyed him, without question. So trusting... So easy, it took nothing to lead you down his path of corruption. His skin was starting to get hot, but Sukuna ignored the prickling beneath his shirt, knowing he needed to retain focus now more than ever. Oh, you were speaking. Fuck.

"I read online that during ovulation, there can be blockages that, like, can contribute to the problems I'm... having, you know," you were rambling, words rushed, and Sukuna realized you were embarrassed by the information you were offering. Cute, so fucking cute. You probably should be, it sounded like snake oil garbage, but Sukuna thanked whatever AI algorithm spat that nonsense into your brain as he nodded along.

"Hmmmm, well, that's only sort of true," he hummed through the lie easily, trying not to let his fingertips linger too long against the soft skin of your calf, your ankle as Sukuna strapped your left foot into place. He was even quicker with the right one, worried you may change your mind if he idled too long.

He used his foot to kick the rolling stool closer and sat down in a smooth motion. He couldn't give you a moment to think, because if he did, you may realize your mistake. Sukuna's hands were already beneath your gown as he rubbed both palms eagerly at your inner thighs, cooing from beneath you when you jolted at the sensation, "Hey, it's okay, it's just me. You trust me, yeah? I'm not going to hurt you."

Only some of it was a lie, but you eased regardless, somehow relaxing when you shouldn't be. Sukuna would've clicked his tongue, admonished you, if he wasn't the villain in this story.

"I'm going to look at you now," it was a command more than a question, not waiting for your consent before his hands are moving to your outer thighs, pushing the gown up easily, the fabric already wanting to give from the angle of your legs in the stirrups. It just needed some encouragement.

Glancing up at you, Sukuna noted your fluttering eyelashes and shallow breaths, and realized you probably needed some encouragement too.

"So beautiful," he couldn't stop his silky whisper, barely even trying to keep up the ruse that had put you here, careless as he finally gazed at your perfect pussy, splayed out wide for him. He wanted to touch. He needed to taste.

"Y-yeah?" the quiver in your tone perfect, and Sukuna fought the urge to moan at the entire situation, wondering how someone as bad as him could have such a perfect moment unfolding like this.

"My prognosis is that you have pretty pussy syndrome," Sukuna couldn't even stop himself now, having gone mad as soon as he could smell your arousal, spit pooling on his tongue as his fingers twitched on your thighs. He wanted to touch you everywhere. He wanted to have everything. He leaned closer, his breath beginning to fan over your folds, using two fingers to spread you even further, really expose every inch of you to him. He had dreamed of it for so long, Sukuna couldn't help but linger here, just a moment.

"I d-don't think you're supposed to talk to me like t-that," you wriggled beneath him despite your words, probably beginning to realize this may have been a bad idea, but it was too late for you. You'd have to scream, and to be frank, Sukuna would shut you up before anyone could intervene. He was too close to what he wanted to be stopped now - not that you would. The wetness leaking out of your pulsing little entrance reassured him.

"Yeah? That was unprofessional of me, wasn't it?" Sukuna feigned agreement before he was licked a flat stripe from your perineum to your clit, making sure to linger and kiss at the hooded bud once, twice before giving an experimental suck, earning him a pitched keen that had him grinning.

"But then why are you so wet for me, doll?" the pet name dripped venomously off his tongue as two deft fingers pinched and rolled at your clit, crimson gaze peering up your body at your reaction. The look on your face was almost enough to make him cum right there; your tongue was poking out between your lips as you panted, eyes hazy and hooded, unable to tear your gaze from where Sukuna sat between your legs and continued his ministrations. You already looked fucked out, and he was just getting started.

He laved his tongue gently against your rapidly engorging clit, another whimper falling from your lips when a fingertip started to tease at your fluttering entrance. Already so sopping wet with the prettiest slick he'd ever tasted, he was so entranced by you that he was hardly listening.

"T-this isn't... This is different than what-" You sounded so cute like this, all high pitched and whining. Needy for something you couldn't ask for, not yet, not that you'd have to - Sukuna knew he'd give it to you, give it all to you, give you everything he had.

"We're doing a different kind of exam, doll. I'm not your gynecologist," Sukuna chided back with a sharp laugh, his words full of a condescending mirth as he sunk two fingers deep into your cunt, fighting his own moan at how easily your pulsing hole gave way to him. A moment longer of watching your cunt gobble up his fingers to the knuckle and Sukuna was going to finger bang you to death, truly.

The nitrile gloves were definitely the culprit, the addition of all your slick eradicating any friction. To be fair, your pussy was tight enough that when your walls fluttered around the sudden intrusion, Sukuna had a momentary worry that making you cum might break his hand. It'd be worth it though, so the thought passed him by.

He curled his fingers deeper, prodding and scissoring against the gummy slick of your walls, searching for the spot that would make you sing. He knew as soon as he did, a sharp inhale followed by a whimper leaving your mouth, and the man fought against his urge to grin at all the pretty sounds you were making just for him. Because of him.

He shushed you, easing the pressure against your G-spot, just swirling the pads of his fingers in a circular motion as he purred your name before admonishing you softly, "I really do need you to quiet down, we can't disturb the other patients in the waiting room. Can you be good?"

Your bottom lip was firmly beneath your teeth but wobbling precariously, the sight of you adorable but albeit, not very reassuring. Sighing, Sukuna slipped his fingers out of you, which left you whimpering and squirming, much to his pleasure. Standing between your legs, he regarded you with a cold scowl for a moment before reaching down both hands to shove your exam gown higher from your hips , up up up, not stopping until he'd bunched it beneath your arm pits and freed the jiggling fat of your breasts to the chill in the air. You didn't even wear a bra, whore. His characteristic smirk was back in place at the newfound sight of you.

He couldn't help but stare for a moment. He didn't think he could get away with taking a picture, and he needed to commit this to memory.

After a moment, he reached for the hem of your gown again, this time bunching a fistful together before pressing it against your lips, his smirk going crooked with arousal when you took it with a tentative bite, the pretty doe eyes gazing up at him starting to water.

"Shhh, don't worry, I'm prescribing the perfect fertility treatment for you today, it's even covered by your insurance," Sukuna shushed, the comfort and sympathy offered obviously fake as his fingers tips caught on your entrance again, unceremoniously shoving three forward. Maybe Sukuna was the one who needed the gag - he all but groaned when half his hand sunk into your pussy without resistance, your messy hole squelching loudly for him.

Your eyes immediately rolled as he began an unforgiving pace, hammering his knuckles against your thinly stretched entrance, his other hand having shoved into his pants to fist his cock for even the smallest ounce of relief. Despite your muffled whines to the contrary, your hands began to smack helplessly against his shoulders, the only defense you had to the onslaught of pleasure as you were otherwise pinned and tied to the exam table, by your own wishes. You had, quite literally in Sukuna's opinion, asked for this.

Sukuna squeezed the base of his cock when your flimsy pushing against his chest finally registered, because you weren't even really trying to get him away, because you were still moaning like a little bitch. He almost came at the thought.

His thumb found your clit with ease, the poor thing swollen and begging for attention as he swiped against it, and he had been right in his earlier observation; the added sensation had your pussy clenching down around him so hard, one of his fingers folded over another, practically crushing his knuckles from pressing into you any deeper. You were about to cum for him. That wicked smile of his began to curl across Sukuna's features as his other hand left his cock to take over at your clit, flicking back and forth in a quick motion while the hand buried in your cunt gave several practiced tilts forward.

"Pretty little doll," he groaned hoarsely, pressing in hard against the spongy tissue of your G-spot until your back arched from the table, tits wobbling in the air. Sukuna knew what you needed, grunting a commanding, "Now, cum for me now," before surging forward to bite one of your perfect nipples, the sudden change in angle and added sensation your ultimate undoing.

Like a bow pulled taut, you snapped at your peak, a surprised shout barely escaping your throat before your cunt flexed hard, before splitting itself open with a gush of clear liquid around Sukuna's eagerly awaiting palms, the hand inside you stilled to let you ride on while he continued to lazily flick your clit, prolonging your orgasm as long as he could.

You were going to feel heavenly around his cock.

Sukuna felt his eyes roll back as he mercilessly pummeled his hips forward, unable to slow himself down, your cunt filled to the brim with his girth. His hand was grasped so firmly over your mouth, you could only helplessly cry out against his palm, laving your tongue and teeth over the skin for some amount of grounding sensation as the man ruthlessly fucked into you.

The stirrups had kept you spread wide for him, unable to wriggle away from pleasure and pain alike, and a puddle was forming on the floor as your needy cunt drooled around his abusive thickness. So perfectly fucked out, just for him. Your walls fluttering indistinctly from the spasms of your orgasms, your euphoria evident from your slick sodden pussy, your heavily lidded gaze, your labored gasps for air beneath his hand. Grinning, he pinched two fingers together and closed your nose, and your entire cunt clenched, and Sukuna barely stifled his own groan as he ricocheted into you with renewed vigor. He let go when your eyes began to roll, and it seemed that the flood of oxygen back into your brain combined with the frenzied thrust of his hips had you shattering around him once again.

"Oh my god, look at you," Sukuna choked out lowly, "you're just sucking me in, it's like-"

He was gazing down to where your bodies connected, wonder twinkling behind heavily lidded maroon eyes as he watched your cunt take him still, after already cumming twice and probably so sensitive, still. His heart hammered in his chest, the pressure at the base of his cock getting dizzying, making his mouth run as his brow furrowed, unable to take his eyes away from your drooling slit as he chased his high.

The exam room stank with sex, filled with the wet slaps of his hips and low grunts, your cum drunk mewls broken and pitchy and barely muffled by your spit-soaked gown. It was a wonder you both hadn't been caught yet, but at this point, it just seemed to be Sukuna's lucky day.

"You want me to cum in you, don't you?" Sukuna asked breathlessly, not actually caring for the answer, because this had been the point all along. The entire plan hinged on filling you to the brim with his seed.

"You want my fucking cum, you want to be bred by me and not your stupid fucking husband. You want me to fuck a baby into you, you dirty fucking whore, so shameless," as he spoke, his thrusts began to speed up, his control finally dwindling as he hammered recklessly into your perfect sopping cunt. He was unable to stop himself from reaching down to grind his palm against your clit, adoring the way your walls gripped his shaft, milking his thickness for all he was worth.

"It doesn't matter what you want, m'gonna do it anyway," he hissed, crimson eyes wide and wild and boring down at the pussy he planned to fill with his seed, absolutely deranged with his singularly focused obsession, and the sight had you shuddering around him again, your third orgasm unexpected for the both of you.

Sukuna had no chance against your spasming walls this time, his hand finding your throat and dragging you up for a ruthless, harsh first kiss. More of a mashing tongues before Sukuna cried out with a growl, dropping his head to muffle himself with a bite to your shoulder. Instinct shoved his hips forward, burying his cock as close to your womb as physically possible as he came, flooding you with warmth. His cock jumped inside of you, twitching and sensitive against your fluttering walls, both of you hissing and moaning softly as your hips continued to rock slowly, riding out the overstimulation.

Your chests were pressed skin to skin, Sukuna's head was still tucked in the space between your neck and your shoulder as you both came down from your highs, silent except for the shared panting. Sukuna was the first to speak, chuckling as he lulled his tongue against the mark he had left, kissing the already blossoming redness in a surprising act of tenderness.

"I marked you up pretty bad, doll, between that and my baby, I don't think you're getting away with any of this. What're you gonna tell your man?" Sukuna didn't know if it was pride or jealously twinging his words, but whatever it was, it tasted bitter on his tongue, despite all the blessings he'd received today.

A beat passed before you tried to sit up on your elbows, the angle of the exam table not exactly helping, once hazy eyes now trained on his, absolutely twinkling as you murmured, "Probably nothing, I guess... considering I'm not married." You wriggled beneath him, still pinned beneath his chest as you danced your hips back and forth around his softening length, making cum leak out and down your puffy slit in a proud display.

"What?" His cock hadn't even come out of you yet. You were gonna make him hard again if you kept that up.

You giggled, the sound sparkling with delight as you repeated, "I'm not married. That man isn't my husband."

"He's been here... It's part of our screening process."

"He's just some actor guy I hired. I don't even know him." You didn't even have the nerve to sound embarrassed.

"What does that mean? He gives samples-"

"I give samples on my 'husband's' behalf. Why do you think our treatments haven't worked?" your smile had grown wicked, a twin lopsided grin to the one he usually wore, pupils dilated as you admitted your sins, your pussy even giving a little spasm on his now rapidly hardening cock. You were getting off on this, you little she-devil.

"Then what's even the point in coming to a fucking fertility clinic if you're not-"

"All for this. All for you," your confession both the sweetest and most deranged thing he had ever heard of in his life, and that was saying something, considering... him.

His heart skipped a beat.

Sukuna was pretty sure he was in love with you.

You thought you had finally stunned him. You had, for a moment, like a flash bang. But Sukuna recovered quickly enough, reaching an expert hand down to drag the middle shelf out from the front of the exam table. He stepped his right foot forward before hoisting a knee to plant his left foot firmly on the stool, using the advantage of his palms already under your knees to unceremoniously shove you into deep mating press, no longer constrained by stirrups.

His fat cock could bully against your cervix easily now, and considering he never skipped leg day, his stamina in this position was nothing to be trifled with. He gave an experimental roll of his hips, sinking tip to hilt without any resistance, the movement causing you to shout hoarsely at how quickly his balls pressed against your asshole.

"Oh you fucking slut," Sukuna purred in delight, his condescension sticky sweet, "Since you want my baby so bad, we'll make extra sure it sticks this time, but you gotta be quiet and we gotta be quick." You opened wide as he grabbed a handful of his special black gloves from their box and balling them into your gleefully awaiting mouth. Leaning forward so you were caged against his chest, Sukuna rolled his cock deeply into you again, content with your muffled whine of ecstasy, before setting a brutal pace into your already cum sodden cunt.

"And call me Daddy this time."

[artdcnaldson]

Alllll I can think about is the changeover au SO I had a thought, art having bragged to Patrick about all the little things he had picked up that make your eyes roll to the back of your head and body tremble during your “relationship” and and and Patrick being a sly fucker and not telling you about it but doing them to you when you eventually do fuck and secretly thanking art in that moment for the tips !!!

this is part of my changeover au :) you can read that here

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: Angst, SMUT (mild descriptions of p in v), post changeover pt.1

Summary: It’s been months since you called things off with Art, but Patrick still can’t stop thinking about the two of you together.

A/N: This was supposed to be sexy and fun, and I turned around and made it depressing 💔 my bad!

Patrick shouldn’t have been thinking about Art.

In fact, he’d been trying very, very hard to stop thinking about Art lately. Missing him felt like having a phantom limb, like a part of him was suddenly cleaved and his entire body expected it to still be there.

But that was different from the way he was thinking about him then. With you, laid out for him on the hotel sheets, your body gleaming with a thin sheen of sweat after a day watching tennis matches. You’d been a perfect little cheerleader, just like Art had told him that first time.

I mean, Jesus, you’d homemade the tightest little shirt that said ZWEIG across the tits. You wore it beneath a modest white cardigan, since it was a nice country club he was playing at, but still.

“You played so well today, Patrick,” you’d said sweetly after the match, holding his hand while you walked with him to the locker rooms.

“I played like shit,” he said with a huff. Frustration was welling up within him. He wanted to smash a racket, or pick a fight. “I should’ve beat that asshole.”

“There’ll be other matches,” you reassured, brushing a sweaty curl from his forehead. “Go shower, and when we get back to the hotel, I’ll make you feel better.”

And you were doing your very best to make that happen. It would probably be perfect… if only he could stop fucking thinking about Art.

It had been a problem each time he’d seen you since March. It was fine, until he got you in bed, then the fucking blond was all he could think about. Memories of Art talking about fucking you, all the times he’d gone on and on about just how good you could take it.

He supposed he deserved it. He’d gone on tangents about Tashi more than enough times, and it probably drove Art crazy, knowing what he couldn’t have. Maybe he wanted Patrick to feel the same way, so jealous he couldn’t stand it.

But now you were the one beneath him, moaning as he bottomed out within you, filling you up completely. Your hair was sticky, plastered to your face with that thin sheen of sweat.

She likes when you’re nice to her. She gets off on the compliments. It’s Art’s voice he hears in the back of his mind, almost a year ago now. Like a perfect recording.

“You feel so good,” Patrick murmured against your ear. He felt your cunt clench around him as your nails dug into his shoulders. “So good for me.”

Your legs wrapped around his waist— pulling him closer. And your pretty, wet lips panted out little gasps right by his ear. Thank you thank you thank you, over and over and over.

He moved his lips to a spot just beneath your ear, sucking and licking at the soft skin there until you moaned, growing louder as he laved your throat with bites and sloppy kisses. Art had given him that one too.

And he knew he was making you feel good— knew that without fail, you’d wind up as putty in his hands. But he wondered if you thought about Art too, if you missed the ways he would treat you reverently, with that gentle, sweet way he always got with girls. If you would go back to Art if you ever got the chance.

Patrick had long since decided not to bring up Art while he was fucking you, or when he was with you at all. Instead, he lingered like a ghost in the recesses of Patrick’s mind, and probably in yours.

“Close,” you gasped in his ear.

He pulled back, kissing you deeply. Licking into your mouth like he could somehow erase the memory of Art’s tongue there too. Because Art was the one who told him that you liked being kissed when you were right on the edge, that you got super clingy like that.

When you came, you always made the prettiest sounds— like you came straight out of a porno or a wet dream. Art hadn’t warned him about that. He didn’t last much longer before he finished too, panting and sweating on top of you.

You smiled and pet his hair, scratching your nails against his scalp as he kissed the soft skin on your shoulder. You used to do the same thing to Art, playing with his hair after you’d fucked. He knew that too, and it made his chest ache.

He wondered if he’d ever have anything with you that Art hadn’t had before.

He shouldn’t have cared that much. He would’ve been happy sharing Tashi with Art, back in that hotel, back at Stanford. It wasn’t that he didn’t like that Art had you before, it was that he missed Art now

Thank you for reading!! Sorry this is so depressing, I couldn’t make it sexy no matter how hard I tried. I had to lean into the angst and pining from Patrick over Art

If you have any Changeover au thoughts or requests, please feel free to send them my way :)🩵

[cinnamontoastcrunch-15]

Today's @wolfstarmicrofic is a Roommate AU!

(872 words.)

James is slowly going mad.

No, not even slowly. He's fallen straight into madness, and he doesn't know how to save himself.

When Sirius asked if one of his course mates, Remus Lupin, could move in for a while, of course, he said yes. Remus had been going through something, and James is always happy to help. Not only that, but Remus is bloody brilliant. He went from being shy, fairly withdrawn, to a hilarious, witty person who James is happy to call his friend.

Sirius clearly doesn't just want to call Remus his friend.

James doesn't think he can watch the two of them practically undressing each other with their eyes at breakfast, accidentally reaching for the same thing and blushing like idiots while they apologise, or trying their hand at fucking awful flirting. It's getting painful, the clear fact that they've fallen for one another right in front of them, while they dance around it like they've never been certain of anything less in their lives.

To be perfectly honest, James is starting to wonder if he should just lock them both in a room and-

"S'fine, I don't care," Sirius' voice cuts through James' thought process as he steps out of his bedroom and into the kitchen. James looks up just in time to watch Remus following behind him hurriedly. So quickly that he almost walks directly into Sirius when he stops and turns around to face him. "I'm not carrying you through the project just because you forgot you had shit to do, though. You can do your part later."

"When have I not done my work, Sirius? Christ, at this point I thought you'd trust me. I already apologised for forgetting!"

"Mhm, and I've already said I don't care. Go have fun on your date, Remus," Sirius says back, just a hint of bitterness settling in his words. It really does sound like he cares.

Remus must be thinking the same thing, because he walks out without saying another word. Sirius immediately heads to the fridge, dropping his head against the door and letting his shoulders slump with a sigh.

"Oh, Sirius, you're a fucking idiot," Sirius groans to himself under his breath. James chuckles.

"Agreed."

"Jesus buggering Christ!" Sirius jumps a mile, practically falling into the counter as he whips his head around to face James. "How long have you been sitting there?"

"Long enough to watch that trainwreck," James answers simply. For some reason, Sirius seems to decide that it's the perfect time to play dumb.

"What d'you mean? It's fine, Remus is just..."

"Going on a date," James fills in. "With someone who isn't you. Which, by the way, is really bloody stupid of him, so at least you've got that in common."

"No, that's not- I don't..."

All James needs to do is arch an eyebrow, and Sirius' shoulders slump.

"Okay, fine, yeah. I really like him."

"No, really?" James asks sarcastically. At Sirius' unamused look, he keeps talking. "Sirius, I'm not being funny, you should see the way he looks at you when you're not looking. Or even when you are, actually. I'm surprised you haven't seen it! You should have asked him out months ago."

"God, I've really fucked it up, haven't I?" Sirius groans, scrubbing a face over his hand. "I wanted to tell him ages ago, I swear! It's just, he-" Sirius drops down into the chair opposite James, eyes fixed on his hands. "He was going through a lot, and then I was asking him if he wanted to move in before I knew what I was saying! How am I meant to tell him anything when he's living in the same flat as me? That could go so wrong, James. I could literally ruin everything!"

Okay, James is at a loss for words. That's... a lot, and Sirius is clearly stressed out. He opts for reaching across the small table and squeezing Sirius' shoulder. Before he can say anything comforting, though, a rustle comes from the door. Someone's trying to get in, and if they have a key, they're really struggling to use it.

Sirius walks over to the door with a confused frown, pulling it open to find Remus, key held out and a stunned expression on his face. James watches the two of them hesitate in front of one another for a moment.

"Remus? What-?"

Before he can say another word, Remus expression fixes to one that James can only describe as determined, before he surges forward and connects his and Sirius' lips. Sirius staggers backwards for a moment, caught by Remus hands sliding around his waist as he reaches his own up to the nape of Remus' neck.

James doesn't know whether or not he should be averting his eyes. Thankfully, they decide that for him, Remus pulling away and starting to speak hurriedly.

"I got halfway down the street and realised that I was being so fucking stupid. I really like you, Sirius. I have for so long, and I guess I thought maybe a date would help me get over it but, God, all I wanted to do was come back here and see you, so..."

Okay, so they're both idiots.

Still, by the look on Sirius' face, he has a feeling that they're finally getting their act together.

[dreamersparacosm]

austin butler - clumsy

warnings ; none

prompt ; in which your celebrity crush causes you to become a flustered, blubbering mess.

a/n ; a little something fun i wrote during the fall but never published! it’s basically anxious!reader and honestly how I imagine myself reacting to meeting aus so enjoy xoxo

Okay, don’t panic.

Do not panic.

It’s just a man. A man with blonde, curly locks, blue eyes, over 6 feet tall… but still, a man. Nothing special. You could probably find ten of him walking down Rodeo Drive.

Except that’s probably not true either.

It is Austin Butler, after all.

You hike the tail of your dress higher as you descend up the stairs to the red carpet, inhaling as much oxygen as possible to tame your nerves. It does nothing for you beside provide a placebo effect of calmness. Your publicist, Jane, stands next to you with her eyebrows furrowed in permanent worry, a crinkle she’s had since the day she took you on. “[Y/N], did you get a chance to look at your seating arrangement?”

“Uh, no, not yet,” You respond slowly, wincing slightly as you brace yourself for her reaction. She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose before turning towards you.

“You know what, that’s fine, sweets. Just go stand on the carpet so we can take these pictures,” She goes back to her clipboard full of tedious things like timing and interviewers and stupid seating arrangements, and you’re trying to stay focused, but how can you do that when Austin Butler is standing 8 feet away from you, posing on the red carpet?

You’re pretty sure you’re drooling.

Whoever keeps leaving his shirts unbuttoned is a menace to society and needs to be locked away for endangerment to the general public.

This whole idiotic schoolgirl crush began relatively long ago, when he was still deeply in love with Vanessa Hudgens and playing a teen heartthrob on The Carrie Diaries. You weren’t even famous at that point, just a mediocre commercial actress trying to get her big break. Once you finally booked your first big role, the crush faded away (only the tiniest amount) but that all came crashing down like an avalanche when you saw Elvis with your best friend.

They probably could’ve posted the entire movie on a porn website and made the same amount of money. And, thus, your crush ensued, full throttle and invading your every thought at the worst moments. Including this one.

Jane kicks the back of your leg, cursing under her breath as you tear your eyes away from him. You’re not new to this scene, you’ve been in major leading roles and you’ve been nominated for Oscars. But that doesn’t take away from the fact that at your core, you are a complete and utter mess. A klutz. A loser with some money in the bank.

So, you take the pictures, with not too many mistakes as you expected, just a few shots of you blinking while smiling. You’re sure they’ll end up on Twitter where your fans will laugh about it while saying how much they love you.

This part always goes by fast. It’s camera flashes, smiles that are strained under the bright lights, talks with interviewers that always go far longer than expected, and then before you know it, you’re being ushered into a tight room with celebrities you had only dreamed of seeing in real life. Jane is glued to your side as you wait for your turn to enter the theater.

Despite the cool temperature of Los Angeles, you’re somehow drenched in sweat. You’ve done this before, you know that. But that doesn’t stop your entire body from going into fight or flight mode, teetering towards flight.

“What’s the hold up?” You hear a female’s voice yell out, and you almost think it’s Jane before you hear her chuckle beside you.

“Speak that truth. I am so sick of these fucking Oscars dimwits wasting my time,” Jane says loudly enough for the girl to hear it, and before you know it, they’re enthralled in a full-blown conversation. If you weren’t trying to fan your armpit sweat, you might’ve joined.

Maybe it’s a good idea to find out where you’re sitting. Probably will need to know that before you enter. You can only assume they’ll sit you next to your last co-star, Timothee Chalamet. What a delight that would be (and that’s not sarcasm, he always smells like cashmere and some type of forest.)

You turn your body slightly, eyeing Jane and the girl she’s talking to. She’s a redhead, also wearing a suit and clearly another publicist that has been in the position for far too long to enjoy it.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice a male figure standing next to the redhead. Hm. A black suit. Your eyes trail over his body, a soft black lace shirt that is half-unbuttoned peeking over the hem. How nice. You love that look on men.

Oh, fuck.

Oh, fuck.

Your body freezes. Mouth runs dry. Sweat shrivels back up into your body only to start forming at impossible speeds. Heart palpates so quickly you think you might be going into cardiac arrest.

In front of you, is Austin Butler. And he completely, totally, entirely, caught you checking out his entire body, head to toe.

There’s a smirk on his face that is undeniably directed towards you, eyes glimmering with amusement. You can’t even believe that you’re looking directly at him. He can’t be real, he has to be a figment of your imagination.

“Come here often?”

You did not just speak.

No, you didn’t. That couldn’t have been real. That couldn’t have been what you just said. After years of dreaming about this moment, that can’t have been what your brain and tongue agreed on.

He chuckles, a deep one that rumbles through his chest, and says, “I try not to make it a habit. You?”

You entangle your fingers with each other, hoping the sweat that has gathered on them just slides right off. “Me either. Trying to cut down on my presence and all that.”

He raises his eyebrows quizzically, that soft smile that curves upon his lips widening a little, “Well, can’t say the Oscars is the best place to do that.”

“Yes, well…” You trail off. Thoughts empty. Brain just a shallow void with nothing but dirty, filthy fantasies about him floating around. Oh god, get a grip.

And he should end the conversation right there, then back around and not acknowledge the weird girl who clearly hasn’t had enough media training. But, he doesn’t. Instead, he sticks out his hand for you to shake, and says, “I’m Austin. Austin Butler.”

“I know,” You say almost immediately. His facial expression contorts into something unreadable, and your lips flap again to try and salvage the rest of your dignity. “I’m [Y/N].”

You shake his hand, praying to some otherworldly creature above that he won’t feel the sweat on your hands. It’s a little weird, when you touch his hand. Feels like you’re envisioning yourself with him, like you’re some kind of wizard that can tell it won’t be the last time you see him. It feels a little like something out of a rom-com, with the electricity zap and the sounds of your hearts beating erratically.

You both pull your hands away, smiling to the ground. You really, really, really hope he’ll keep talking to you.

“Nervous?” He asks, taking note of the way your thumbs twiddle and the sidestep you keep doing with your heels.

“A little. Kinda. Maybe,” You let out a sigh of relief. “I’m not really the most organized.”

“Hm. Well, I’m sure you’ll be great,” His grin widens just enough to show off his pearly white teeth that glimmer under the remaining sunlight that California has to offer.

“Thanks,” You smile back. “How about you? Nervous?”

“Always,” He responds, almost taken aback by the transparency he’s having with another celebrity. He’s never had a conversation about nerves, never felt validated enough by someone to open up about the fear that comes along with being at this level of fame. “It’s my first Oscars.”

“Right,” You say, “Well, I’ve been to a few, and honestly, I’ll let you in on a secret. Even Leonardo DiCaprio shits himself a little when the nominees are announced.”

He lets out a laugh, a real one, one that sounds like all good things in the world and you would be more than happy to capture it in a jar and keep it on your bedside forever. “Somehow, I don’t doubt that,” He switches gears, shifting his body around a little. “What afterparty are you going to?”

It’s a simple question, one you’ve been asked numerous times by other people in the industry. It usually offers a sense of dominance over who got the better invite. “Er, yes, that would be a question for my lovely publicist, Jane, because I don’t have a rat’s ass idea of where I’m supposed to go.”

He laughs. Again. Part of you is enthralled, part of you is confused as to why he thinks you’re a comedy show. Maybe he thinks you’re a joke. Yes, that makes good sense. “That honestly makes me feel better because I don’t really know where I’m going either,” He admits.

“Are you kidding?” You ask incredulously. “You look like that and you don’t know where you’re going? I think the President of the Academy Awards has a personal invite waiting for you.”

Okay, maybe you shouldn’t have said that. But really, it has to be blamed on the fact that there are a swarm of murderous bees flying around in your stomach that are making you feel woozy.

His cheeks turn a crimson glow, “Like that?”

“Oh, you know…” You trail, slowly laughing to brush off the fact that you basically just admitted your undying love to him. “Just…. That’s a great black shirt. I’m gonna buy one for my brother.”

His lips curve upwards a little more, blue eyes sparkling like little oceans. “Thanks. And, you know, you don’t look bad yourself.”

You blink twice. Did he just say that?

Before you even whip up a flirty comment, or even a funny one that’ll have him doubling over in laughter and proposing to you by tonight, you feel Jane gripping your forearm tightly. “Stop dicking around, [Y/N]. We need to go in.”

“Right, yes, totally,” You smile awkwardly over to Austin, and he returns it. You feel soft and warm and glowy inside, like you might levitate off the floor.

And then you really are levitating off the floor, because your feet miss the step and you’re falling before you even have a chance to stop yourself. Your arm extends to try and delay your inevitable fall, but it doesn’t work and you’re really sprawled out. Immediately, Jane rushes down to try and drag you up, hurriedly asking if you’re okay.

You nod slightly, balancing yourself on your knees. Thankfully, you think the vast majority of people have entered the theater and missed out on your embarrassment of epic proportions.

Well, maybe not everyone.

Suddenly, like a light peeking from beyond the clouds, you see an outstretched hand to your right. It’s tan, a male’s hand for sure. You look up to see who could possibly be nice enough to help you up. Maybe it’s God telling you it’s time to pass away.

It’s Austin. And he has a really worried look on his face that you’re shocked by, but his expression falters once he sees the look on your face. You’re smiling, a real big goofy one, because it’s so ridiculous and he’s so ridiculous and you’re pretty sure one of your heels is broken.

You place your hand in his, and his other hand wraps around your waist to help you up and steady yourself against him. Once you’re finally standing, he grins, leaning into your ear, “Remember, even Leonardo DiCaprio shits himself at the table.”

You don’t even realize his arm is still wrapped around your waist until you notice the absence of it. You giggle lightly, biting your lip. “Of course. And I think I saw Brad Pitt throw up in the bathroom last year.”

“Austin, we gotta go,” His publicist grabs his hand, and you feel a pang of disappointment. You almost think he does too, his blue eyes turning grayish as he looks back at her.

“Right,” He clears his throat. “Well, good luck tonight, [Y/N]. I hope you win.”

“You too,” The smile on your face is probably permanently tattooed on. You feel Jane’s hand on your back, slowly moving you away from him although your feet beg to stay.

“Oh, and [Y/N]?” You turn back around to face him, “Big fan of your work.”

With that, he turns away with his publicist to go and find his seat amongst the crowd. You watch him disappear, an indescribable feeling washing over your entire body. You’re also being whisked away to your table, greeted by familiar faces and friends. But it’s pretty clear that’s not the reason why you’re smiling.

Some part of your brain decides on one thing: this won’t be the last time you see him.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

You decide that you like California. Not a whole lot, but enough to make you sign a contract for a new film. Normally, you believe that Los Angeles and all its surrounding cities are a dreadful structure that encapsulates all the worst features of privileged Southern California lifestyle. But the food is undeniably tasty, and your new apartment is decorated with high ceilings and well-lit rooms, so you’ll make do. You’ll be filming in sunny Calabasas, where the houses are painted a perfect shade of white, where time stills a little and every cloud is just the right amount of fluffy.

The Oscar’s had came and went, and you won, to no one’s surprise but your own. With that accomplishment came offers. People really, truly wanted to work with you, and although it baffled you, Jane was having the time of her life coordinating auditions and interviews.

Everything was truly perfect.

You flip through the pages of your fresh script, your manicured nails turning through the warm pages, the black ink bleeding onto the sheets. Jane sits across from you, feverishly scribbling something, negotiating your pay for your new film. She’ll deliver. In the end, she always does.

She hangs up her call, sighing from relief. You’re about to ask her how it went, if you got the price you wanted, before her phone blares again with that god awful ringtone she refuses to change. She answers it, a cheerful tone in her voice, “Kate? So good to hear from you! What’s going on?”

You tune out of her conversation, focusing your eyes back on the mass of paper in front of you. A new story to be told. A new character to embody. A new chapter of your life. It’s all very emotional and sappy and you almost want to cry tears of happiness, but you’ll save that for later, once you get home and crack open a bottle of wine.

You hear Jane place her phone down, and your eyes flicker back up to her. There’s an expression on her face that’s unreadable, and you’re unsure of how to process it. Oh, no. If you didn’t get the price you wanted, that would suck. Or, maybe you did and she’s just unsure on how to process emotion. You always thought she was a robot.

“I just had the weirdest phone call,” She finally speaks, scratching her forehead quizzically.

“What’s up?” You ask mindlessly, certain she’s going to tell you something personal like her cousin getting married to a farmer.

“That was Austin Butler’s publicist. She said he’s been asking about you since the Oscars.”

There’s no fucking way. She’s pranking you. Any second now, Ashton Kutcher is going to pop out behind the doorframe and say “You’ve been Punk’d!” and then maybe he’ll also bring out Austin to further your embarrassment.

“Excuse me?” You blink.

“Yeah,” She seems just as baffled as you are. “She said he’s been trying to find a way to get in contact with you, but turns out, you guys don’t have a lot of mutual friends.”

Well, that makes sense.

She continues on, “Anyway, she gave me his number and then said he wants to ask you on a date. So, do with that what you will.”

She unlocks her phone, slides it across the table to you, and you see a phone number typed into her notes. Your hand trembles as you pick up the iPhone, copying the number into your own contacts. You feel woozy, just like you did on that red carpet, just like you did the moment you locked eyes with him.

“Right, well,” You clear your throat. “I’ll just step outside and call him real quick.”

She nods, raising one eyebrow. There’s a small grin that appears on her lips, a knowing one, and you slide out the door into the hallway.

You don’t know what comes over you, or what demon compels you, but you click the number. You hear the ring. There’s a pause. Your heart drops as you think that he might not answer.

And then you hear him. His voice.

“Hello?”

“Uh, h-hi. Hi. This is, um, [Y/N]. Your publicist gave me your number.”

It almost sounds ridiculous.

“[Y/N]. You know, I’ve been trying to get ahold of you but turns out you’re not an easy person to reach,” You can hear the smile in his voice.

“Well, you know me and my presence. All time low,” You say sarcastically, and he chuckles.

“Right. Well, congratulations on your win. Very well-deserved,” His voice is deeper than you remember. There’s a slight desire that pools between your legs for a moment before you snap yourself back into reality.

“You too. Some would call it the performance of the year,” And you can’t even believe it’s happening. You’re really flirting with him.

“Thank you,” He says so softly, so charming. He’s always grateful and humble, and it makes you even more attracted to him. If that’s even possible at this point. “So, do you think there’s a chance you would allow me to take you out to dinner? Somewhere lowkey, you know, for your presence and all?”

The question is so unbelievable that you can’t even take it in. You make a few sounds, splutter over your words and trip over them like you did your own two feet at the Oscars. Your heartbeat travels up to your eardrum, pounding with every ounce of blood that travels through you. “U-uh, umm… well, you know, let me go ahead and check my schedule.” There’s a pause. You cover the reciever and scream a silent yell into the void, jumping a few feet high.

Clearing your throat, you say, “Hm. Seems like I’m free tomorrow.”

“You can’t do tonight?”

The question takes you aback. Surely, he can’t be asking that because he wants to see you. “Oh, why? Are you leaving California tomorrow?”

“Not at all,” You hear him shuffle. “I just really want to take you out.”

“Right, yes, of course.” You let his question hang in the air. You know your answer, but you like letting him think there’s a possibility you might reject him.

“I am free tonight.”

“Great,” His voice is upbeat, a newfound excitement peeking through. “Well, text me your address. I’ll send a car to pick you up.”

“Yup, totally. Super duper cool. Looking really forward to it,” You babble on, pacing the hallway you’ve trapped yourself in.

He lets out a low laugh, “Me too. I’ll see you tonight. Bye, [Y/N].”

You say your goodbyes, leaning against the wall for stability before you collapse into a puddle. Later, a janitor might come to find your lifeless body glued to the wall. Cause of death? Man built like a Greek god asks woman on date.

But, everything is fine. You’ll somehow make it.

There’s a ridiculous feeling in your heart, a warmth that spreads to your toes and fingers. Now, everything is perfect.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

masterlist + request

[calebscornerofart]

Minecraft Isekied AU

HI, i haven't posting in a while

anyways have an au

These fuckers got stuck in minecraft. Donnie had a piece of krang tech and had no idea how to use it, it was doing absolutely nothing. He could Not figure it out

Until, leo placed a laptop on top of it.

Then all of the sudden everyone in the room, Don, Leo, Raph, Mikey, April, Cj, Cass, and Splinter, woke up in a birch forest.

That laptop? it had minecraft running and now they are in it

They have to find their way out now, heres some drawings i did for this. it's pretty much all i got of the au for now

@tmntaucompetition

fun fact, donnie and mikey went to the same place :)

Leo and phantoms don't mix apparently

now for some concept drawings of mobs and bonus raph

Raph likes to go caving :3

Mikey likes the nether!

Mikey actually doesn't need to wear gold to be in the nether one time he forgot and encountered a group of piglins but they didn't attacked. Instead they were mesmerized by his markings and brought him to the village, and explained the best they can about a piglin long ago that grew gold on them. They healed those infected with rot and those healed and their offspring have gold markings on them.

that was the first BIG evidence that the world they are in is more than just minecraft, it has a life of it's own!

[writingstoraes]

begin again 🌷 (split pt. 3)

pairing: charles leclerc/fem!reader

type: instagram imagine, social media au

notes: the long awaited part 3! this took so long only cause i had no idea how i want it to go lol anyway i hope u guys love this one :D lmk what u think!

about: almost a year after your split with charles, fans take a trip down memory lane and wondering why the two of you seemed to have watered things down after soft launching other people months ago. a bunch of rumors also set twt crazy along with speculations at your paddock appearance where you apparently support ferrari.

read: part 1, part 2 (can read on its own, but the parts provide context hehe)

yourusername

liked by isahernaez, lilymhe, landonorris, and 231,298 others

yourusername back at the happiest place on earth ❤️

lilymhe Have fun, love xo

yourbff Looking that good just to watch a race????

tyretactics QUEEN I ALWAYS LOOK FORWARD TO YOU EVERY RACE

charliez1655 miss mam twt is on fire we all miss you 😪

leclercsluv wdym shes almost always at every race ricciardoshooey no they meant w charles lol

yourusername recently added to her instagram story!

Now playing: Charles Leclerc, 2023 Austrian GP, Post-Sprint Shootout Interviews

yourusername

liked by yourbff, lilymhe, carlossainz55, and 210,593 others

yourusername on a wednesday, in a cafe, i watched it begin again

lecslover looking GOOD AS HELL QUEEN

sainzplaylist god shes back to the man shes been soft launching i think i am going to be: sick

1655lecs that might be charles, we don't know 🙏 sainzplaylist yeah i think its time we let that go lol

wagsqueens mam im sorry wym by begin again???

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, finemidnights, carlossainz55, and 982,221 others

charles_leclerc It's nice to have a friend 🌅

tyreexpert u cant tell me thats not y/n 😪 she's his friend after all...

joris__trouche Looking sharp!

lecssainz16 war is over you guys theyre back at it i am in my acceptance stage now

Some months later...

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly, lilymhe, and 756,293 others

yourusername i am and willl always be your number one fan. words cannot encapsulate how proud i am of you; truly, you deserve all of this and so much more. congratulations, my love ❤️

it's nice to see you running towards me again :)

ps. yes we've been soft-launching each other the past months hahaha

leclercfan AM I DREAMING SOMEONE PINCH ME

livwatchraces i screamed when i saw you guys on the screen!!!

carlossainz55 Aaand they're back 🎉

charles_leclerc Thanks, number one shipper

charles_leclerc

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen, arthurleclerc, and 1,982,384 others

charles_leclerc Sunshine in human form.

A few months ago, I started hanging on to the fact that in good faith and in good time, things will eventually work its way out. Almost a year ago, it seems as if we have closed a chapter but today, we are living proof people who are made for each other can begin again.

Ce sera toujours toi 🤍 It will always be you.

scuderiaferrari We missed you tons, Y/N! ❤️

wagsf1 the queen of all queens is back we love to see it

lecslover it's years later and he still talks about her the same way he always have 🥹

sainzchamp The way theyve been soft launching each other all this time and that one rumor of Charles being with another girl was still Y/N 😭

yourusername sold our apartment already? too bad 😆

charles_leclerc I never actually sold it, if I did, I'd probably buy it back

---------

tagging: @slytherheign, @honethatty12, @siovhanroy, @mehrmonga, @mess-in-side, @leclerc16s, @thelovehypothesis, @dakotali, @aldene-styles

notes: eeee and its finally done! cant believe it took so much time before i finished all three parts lol anyway thank you so much for those who waited for the part three (i see all the asks on my inbox and the comments ehehe) i really just didn't know how i wanted it to go so! i hope you guys love this and lmk what you think <3

[atruththatyoudeny]

Happy 28th! Here are all the lovely fics I read this month:

where we landed | blueskiesrry | [70k] The leaves were green the last time Harry stepped foot in Holmes Chapel, a stark contrast to the candy apple, butterscotch painting them now, years later. Harry first notices them on the train, gazing out the window with a downturned mouth. A warm something floods his stomach–memories, Harry imagines, of him as a boy, longing for the days when he’d live elsewhere and have to take this very train home for the holidays. He wonders how it’s possible to have once felt eager and euphoric at the sight of changing leaves yet now to feel nothing but tired. He sighs softly, turning away from the trees to look at his daughter, half-curled in his lap, asleep. or: harry returns to his hometown with his sick daughter and more reminders than he bargained for of the boy he once loved when he left a handful of years ago

MARRIED FOR A WEEK?! | gravitycentered | [20k] Hi guys :) You might recognize Harry from one or two of my old videos .. I was tagged in the Married for a week challenge so I asked him to be my husband ! We had to live together for a week and take each other out on a couple romantic dates and that, check out the video to see how it went :) Give it a like if you enjoyed and maybe subscribe if you haven't already. Love you all - Louis x

It's everything else that matters | words_of_my_own | [83k] At forty, Harry has settled down in London, as a single dad and successful businessman. Along comes Louis, his son’s new friend, who turns out to be more than he appears at first sight. Their paths are slowly intertwined as life stories are unfolded and feelings arise. *** "They may only be joking around here… …or the atmosphere has just turned slightly flirtatious. Louis' raised eyebrow and quirky smile adding on to it. It’s fun and exciting, and Harry doesn’t think twice before he throws another glance over his shoulder, just to find Louis steady eyes on him, his teeth digging into his lower lip. Christ, the bloke really is handsome. Sexy, even. And this is definitely not how Harry normally reacts to people of the same sex, but…apparently, he is now."

He Was a Different League (When I Was Nothing Much) | AFangirlFantasy | [21k] Sick of being alone, Marcel is forced (by Niall) to join an online dating app. The idea is well and all, except for the inconvenient fact that he hasn’t moved on from his childhood sweetheart - Louis. If only Marcel could learn to let go, he might actually be able to love again. Or, an AU where finding that 'someone new' actually leads to finding that 'someone old,' and Marcel is painfully oblivious.

I want to wake up where your love is | marcythesassykitten | [166k] “Kinda feels like it is, though. And it’s okay to be pissed at me because of that,” Louis' voice was still the normal feathery sweetness Harry was used to, but it had a harshness to it that he couldn’t place until he looked up and met Louis’ eyes. There was so much pain exposed for Harry to see, for him to be able to pick at, taunt or ignore. Louis was sitting right there, allowing Harry to see all the broken pieces, the sharp edges that had never been mended back together with the love and kindness they needed. In that moment, Harry saw his own pain reflected back at him in Louis’ eyes. He could feel bits of his own heart calling out for him to reach out and allow the two battered hearts to heal together as one. “It’s not. I’m not… I’m really not,” or, a chicago-inspired story about lost dreams, unjust fates, undying love and lots of pizza, repressed feelings, cute kids and, of course, cats

Welcome Home | Jelon | [49k] Louis Tomlinson had to put a stop to his football career for a couple of months and he decided to go back home to rest his mind for a little bit only to find out a really weird coffee shop owner started to visit his mother on a regular basis with just as peculiar but lovely kid named Maxine.

Half a World Away | SilverStuff50 | [10k] Bothy: A bothy is a basic shelter, usually left unlocked and available for anyone to use free of charge. It was also a term for basic accommodation, usually for gardeners or other workers on an estate. Bothies are found in remote mountainous areas of Scotland, Northern England, Ulster and Wales. They are particularly common in the Scottish Highlands, but related buildings can be found around the world (for example, in the Nordic countries, there are wilderness huts).

[pepsiconcoction]

hi hi, i enjoy reading your content so much that I wanted to make a request! A Lee Know Fluff inspired by this song “Take A Chance With Me” by NIKI. It can literally be a drabble, one shot, series or whatever pleases you! thanks again <3

hi i'm so sorry i disappeared for like, so long? idk honestly, so i have no idea when you posted this, or if you even still want it lol. i finally have some free time AND i'm feeling creative again so that's fun! anyways hope you like this, i did it in like an hour and a half and its barely proofread, i hope u love it tho <3

Take A Chance With Me - Lee Know x Reader

pairing: Lee Know x gn!Reader

tags: non-idol AU, fluff, tiny amount of angst if you squint?, lee know is a goofy guy i guess

wc: 891

Being in love with Minho was hard. Unfortunately, it was a hardship you had been dealing with for a while now. He was everything to you, your best friend, your soulmate even, although he would always say that soulmates don’t actually call each other that.

The moment you finally realised you were in love with Lee Minho, the two of you were nursing hangovers, a bowl of sundaeguk steaming your face. You had both finally graduated from University, the same place you had met almost 4 years ago. He had finally introduced himself to you after sitting next to you every Tuesday at 9am, after the professor had introduced the fact that group work was required for a project. You hadn’t even heard him speak up until that point, you were kinda beginning to think that was a figment of your imagination until he spoke. 

A year later he told you that he decided to sit next to you because you were the first person who seemed ‘normal’ when he first entered and looked around the room. This confession, of course, had the two of you in fits of giggles at how neither of you turned out to be normal. You had realised you both shared a passion for dance despite your degree studying computer science and had even attended each other's dance showcases and competitions, watching him dance was like nothing else. The way he moved with such practiced precision was so captivating, that it was almost impossible to ever look away.

Beyond that, he was the kindest person you knew. He cared in ways that you had never expected of him. When your boyfriend cheated on you in the summer between years 2 and 3, he showed up to your apartment with kind words and snacks, and he did your dishes for you and even ironed your shirt for work the next day so that you could cry.

Back to the sundaeguk. It was still steaming.

The glint in his eye as he threw his head back giggling at some stupid joke you made you realise. It made you realise a lot of things actually. 

“What happens now?” you ask.

“I don’t know about you but I’m gonna eat this,” he says pointing at his bowl with the chopsticks in his hand.

“No, I mean, now that we’ve graduated.”

He stops mid sausage-to-mouth and blinks at you. 

“We get… jobs, I guess.” The sausage reaches his mouth. You laugh. You let the moment pass.

A month later you’re at a party, he asked you to be his plus one to the after-party of one of his dance shows and you’re talking to one of the other members of the choreography team. She tells you how Minho talks about you and has such admiration for you. When Minho waves at you from across the room, she asks you how you’re not dating. You manage to ramble off something about just being close friends but even you don’t fully believe it. You don’t want this night to end the way it always did. He walks you home, you hold his arm, you let go, and you both say good night. 

You watch him from across the room, the room blaring with music, the sound of voices almost competing. He’s beautiful, you know that, everyone who has ever met him knows that. He’s talking to a friend, one you vaguely recognise, and you feel a pang in your chest, a feeling of impending doom. There’s a fear in your heart that something will take him from you, a job, a person, you don’t know, but you need him to stay with you. You need him.

You finish the drink in your hand and put the empty glass back on the table. You excuse yourself from the group and walk over to him. He notices you and his smile grows wide. 

“Hey! I was just talking about you.” He’s grinning as he says it.

“Only good things I hope.” You raise your eyebrows.

“Of course.”

“Can I talk to you for a second?” you turn a little more serious for a moment. He excuses himself from his friend and the two of you walk outside into the quiet of the night, the cool summer air refreshing.

“Are you okay?” he asks, a hint of concern showing in his eyes.

“Yeah, I was just thinking about things.” you sigh.

“Oh, that’s never good.” 

“I was thinking about you, dumbass.” You roll your eyes.

“Okay, now I’m interested,” he smirks.

You pause as you look at him. You spare a moment thinking of what to say, and how he’ll react, will he accept or reject you? You don’t know. The only thing you do know is Lee Minho, you know him as if you are him, as if you’re connected somehow. You feel like this is already written for you.

“I love you,” you say. He blinks.

“I love you too.”

“No, like, I love you Minho. More than just besties.”

“But if we date, who will be my bestie?” Of course, he jokes. Of course, you laugh.

“You’d have to find a new one.” You giggle.

“Well, looks like I’ll have to get started then.” He leans into you. “I wasn’t kidding,” he says in a softer, quieter voice. “I do love you.”

Being in love with Minho was suddenly so easy, but it always was.

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[whinlatter]

Harry’s thoughts of Ginny in the Forest: a meta

‘Nothing too big, because you wouldn't be able to take it with you... I wanted you to have something to remember me by.' - DH, p. 99 (UK edition)

Here I am, on a rainy Thursday, doing re-reads for some writing and thinking about the parallels between Harry and Ginny's kiss on his birthday, and Harry’s thoughts of Ginny as he goes to his death. 

I’m thinking differently about Ginny’s motivations for the kiss these days. I used to think about her words to Harry that morning, and the act of kissing him, as a promise she’ll wait for when he comes back. Lately, I’m wondering if it’s not something sadder, and more profound. I think what Ginny does on Harry’s seventeenth is the act of a person who is starting to process the fact that the person she loves is likely going to his death — that he might not be coming back. It's a scene of a person bracing for grief and thinking about love after death, and it will set the stage for how Harry meets his own death in the Forest.

So here’s a much-too-long meta to help me think through these ideas - about the kiss, Ginny’s suspicions about Harry’s fate, and what it means that Harry returns to the memory of Ginny at the end of his life. (Stick the kettle on for this one and if you worked this all out long ago before me, just give me an eye roll and forgive me).

I’ve always taken Ginny's words to Harry before their kiss at face value. I thought of it not quite as a fun scene - it’s certainly sad - but sweet, a little sexy, and sort of reckless, even a bit mischievous on Ginny’s part.

It’s the birthday of the boy Ginny loves. They’re not together anymore. She knows he's going away. She wants to give him a birthday present, but she doesn't want to give him something he has to haul around or might lose. She does want to let him know that, despite their separation, her feelings are still the same. She craves a moment with him before he goes. She is still in love with him, she is deeply attracted to him, and part of her still feels a bit possessive. Although she’s not really concerned Harry’s going to crack on with some Veela, she does want him to have a memento of their time together. She wants him to have a happy memory, of physical intimacy and emotional comfort, to keep him going while he's away, to feel less alone.

Most of all, I used to think of the kiss (and whatever Ginny imagined might come after the kiss) as a promise. I still love you. Even though we’re not together and I respect why you have to go, I’m still all in on this. I’ll wait for you for when you come back. I want you to have the memory of this, as proof.

Harry’s reveal

But the more I’ve thought about it, the more I think about the context of when this kiss happens, after Harry and Ginny's last conversation before his birthday. It's the one a few days before, when Harry and Ginny are laying the table for dinner, and Harry lets slip to Ginny what he, Ron and Hermione will be doing when they leave:

'‘And then what does she think’s going to happen?’ Harry muttered. ‘Someone else might kill off Voldemort while she’s holding us here making vol-au-vents?’ He had spoken without thinking, and saw Ginny’s face whiten.‘So it’s true?’ she said. ‘That’s what you’re trying to do? ‘I - not - I was joking,’ said Harry evasively. (DH, 78-9, UK edition)

This is a desperately sad scene, but it’s also an important moment. Harry, so used to having his guard down with Ginny, realises he’s accidentally confessed something big: that he’s going on the run to try and kill Voldemort himself, with Ron and Hermione’s help. 

Ginny is shaken by this. As a character, she tends to either take things in her stride, or yells first, processes later. But this catches her off guard. Her words suggest there has been speculation about what it is the three of them are going off to do (‘So it’s true?’ suggests that Ginny, and perhaps other members of her family or the Order, have been speculating about this for some time). But both she and Harry realise here that he’s flippantly confirmed something huge that Ginny did not already know for sure. He’s spoken aloud the task is that Dumbledore has left him. 

It is a sign of how close Harry feels to Ginny, how safe he feels in her company, and how difficult he finds managing keeping secrets from her, that he lets this slip. He won’t come as close to telling the truth to anyone else, even people he trusts. The scene before this, in his conversation with Mrs Weasley, he didn’t let on nearly as much (though he admits that he found affirming the importance of secrecy difficult when he looked at Mrs Weasley and saw Ginny’s eyes staring back at him):

‘Well, Dumbledore left me . . . stuff to do,’ mumbled Harry. ‘Ron and Hermione know about it, and they want to come too.’ ‘What sort of ‘stuff’?’  ‘I’m sorry, I can’t—’  ‘Well, frankly I think Arthur and I have a right to know, and I’m sure Mr. and Mrs. Granger would agree!’ said Mrs. Weasley. Harry had been afraid of the “concerned parent” attack. He forced himself to look directly into her eyes, noticing as he did that they were precisely the same shade of brown as Ginny’s. This did not help… ‘Dumbledore didn’t want anyone else to know, Mrs. Weasley (…)  I didn’t misunderstand,’ said Harry flatly. ‘It’s got to be me.’ (DH, 77-8)

Later, he’ll also refuse to give any information to Lupin, for the same reason. 

'‘Can you confide in me what the mission is?’  Harry looked into the prematurely lined face, framed in thick but greying hair, and wished that he could return a different answer.  ‘I can’t, Remus, I’m sorry. If Dumbledore didn’t tell you I don’t think I can.’  ‘I thought you’d say that,’ said Lupin, looking disappointed.’ (DH, 173-4)

But with Ginny, he’s accidentally gone much further. He hasn’t said Horcruxes, but he’s as good as. The trio are setting off to try to kill Voldemort, the most dangerous task imaginable in this war. He tries, in vain, to undo it, but the damage is already done. Ginny knows more now than she did before: that the journey he’s about to go on is one that very likely will claim his life. 

What does Ginny know about Harry’s fate before this moment? 

It's clear from this interaction that Harry has never discussed any of this with Ginny before. In their breakup scene, Harry repeatedly said that he was breaking up with her for her own safety. He said he did not want her to be used as bait, as she already had been previously, and as Sirius was: 'Think how much danger you'll be in if we keep this up...' (HBP, 602). The focus was entirely on the risk to Ginny's life, a risk Harry says he cannot live with.

Ginny’s remarks at Dumbledore’s funeral told us something about how she, at that point, understood the path ahead for Harry. She made her half-joke that Harry was always busy saving the Wizarding World, and says she thinks he 'would never be happy', never fulfilled or satisfied, unless he were 'hunting Voldemort' (HBP, 603). She showed she interpreted his actions as choices being made by someone brave, determined, and personally committed to bringing about the end of Voldemort, not someone destined to. Harry’s motivations and reasons are ones she respects and empathises with. She knows the path ahead is dangerous. She doesn’t yet think of it as lethal. 

Harry didn’t respond to her assessments at the funeral, neither correcting nor confirming them. He didn’t let her know, at that stage, exactly what it is he is going to set off to do. The closest Harry came to revealing the road ahead for him in the break-up scene was this:

'It’s been like… like something out of someone else’s life, these last few weeks with you,' said Harry. 'But I can’t… we can’t… I’ve got things to do alone now.' She did not cry, she simply looked at him.’  (HBP, 602)

This is a pattern throughout their relationship, both as friends and later as romantic partners. Ginny knows a little, but not a lot, about Harry’s path. She thinks of it almost entirely as a decision he has made himself. Conversations about Harry’s destiny - about the Prophecy, about being the Chosen One, and, eventually, about the Horcrux hunt - happen near Ginny, but never with her. She does not seem to believe that Harry is the Chosen One or in any way bound to Voldemort's own fate. At the start of HBP, on the train in Slughorn’s carriage, Ginny states publicly her belief that any speculation about Harry being the Chosen One is nonsense: 

‘We never heard a prophecy,” said Neville, turning geranium pink as he said it. ‘That’s right,’ said Ginny staunchly. ‘Neville and I were both there too, and all this ‘Chosen One’ rubbish is just the Prophet making things up as usual.’ (HBP, 140)

Ultimately, before DH, Ginny has been given very little information. We can assume that she’s decided to respect Harry’s decision to keep any information from her and not to push for it. She has reason to fear he might be in danger, but she doesn’t yet know the full extent of it.

Ginny’s response

The immediate aftermath of Harry’s confession at the Burrow is very telling. 

‘They stared at each other, and there was something more than shock in Ginny’s expression. Suddenly Harry became aware that this was the first time that he had been alone with her since their stolen hours in secluded corners of the Hogwarts grounds. He was sure she was remembering them too.’ - DH (79)

It’s important that, immediately after this confession, Harry’s mind immediately takes him to private time spent alone with Ginny at the end of HBP. His certainty that Ginny, too, is reminiscing about them is typical of their wordless displays of understanding. They both reach for memories. And the memories of the last time he was alone with her, when they were still together, suddenly trigger an intense emotional and sexual tension. They are soon interrupted, and the dinner afterwards is extremely awkward. Harry wishes he were further away from Ginny, and tries, with great difficulty, to avoid touching her at the dinner table. The energy between them is intense and charged, anticipatory and frustrated. There are lots of ‘unsaid things’ that have just passed between them, and both are aware of it (DH, 79).

There are important themes being introduced here. Whenever Harry thinks about memories of his time with Ginny in DH, he does so consistently in two clear ways. To him, those times were private, intensely intimate moments which carried huge personal significance. It is strongly implied those were moments of sexual intimacy between the two of them, and where they shared an emotional closeness neither has found with any other character. But those moments with Ginny are also something Harry feels he was wrong to take. His relationship with her was something that, in retrospect, he embarked upon against his better judgement. He now feels it was something he was not entitled to, on account of his own burdens and obligations. Those were ‘stolen hours’ that were ‘something out of someone else’s life’. If we look to the wedding scene, we can see this most clearly:

‘‘Yes, my tiara sets off the whole thing nicely,’ said Auntie Muriel in a rather carrying whisper. ‘But I must say, Ginevra’s dress is far too low cut.’  Ginny glanced around, grinning, winked at Harry, then quickly faced the front again. Harry’s mind wandered a long way from the marquee, back to afternoons spent alone with Ginny in lonely parts of the school grounds. They seemed so long ago; they had always seemed too good to be true, as though he had been stealing shining hours from a normal person’s life, a person without a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead…’ (DH, 121) 

There are certain tropes at play here, that will that recur again and again in Harry’s thoughts of Ginny until the point of his death: the memory of time alone, the feeling of shared emotional and physical intimacy, to an intense degree; the sense of their time together being something stolen, both in the sense of it being snatched from within darker times, but also being forbidden, given with Harry’s fate when it comes to Voldemort. That Harry recalls these moments at a moment as two other characters make lifelong vows of marriage to each other is not insignificant: all is set up to maximise the sense of tragedy.

Ginny processing Harry’s fate

Ginny is not naive. Harry’s confession seems to change something about how she thinks about what he’s about to do. She may once have dismissed the prophecy of Harry as the Chosen One as nonsense. But she now has reason to suspect that might not quite be true.

She may well re-trace what she does know. After all, she was at the Department of Mysteries two summers prior, where she learnt that Voldemort, at least, thinks there is a prophecy of significance that involves Harry directly. She knows Harry has been having one-on-one lessons with Dumbledore: she even gave him one of the invitations (HBP, 228). She also knows that Harry and Dumbledore left school for a secret mission alone on the night the Astronomy Tower was attacked and Dumbledore was killed. She observed how Harry saw Dumbledore’s death as a catalyst to prepare for a path that required him to step back from her. Above all, we also know that Ginny is a character who understands Tom Riddle intimately. She is one of the people who comes closest to understanding the stakes of your life being bound, in some way, to Voldemort.

It is also significant that Ginny is a character canonically intrigued, and touched, by death, and by powerful Dark magic. The diary, and her own near-death experience, is the most obvious example. But in the Department of Mysteries during OotP, we are told she is also one of the characters most drawn to the veil, despite having far less direct experience of loss and grief than Harry, Luna, or even Neville:

‘[Harry] took several paces back from the dais and wrenched his eyes from the veil. ‘Let’s go,’ he said. ‘That’s what I’ve been trying to — well, come on, then!’ said Hermione, and she led the way back around the dais. On the other side, Ginny and Neville were staring, apparently entranced, at the veil too. Without speaking, Hermione took hold of Ginny’s arm, Ron Neville’s, and they marched them firmly back to the lowest stone bench and clambered all the way back up to the door.’ (OotP, 775)

I don’t mean to suggest Ginny knew what was coming for Harry, that she foresaw him having to go to his death. She knows nothing of Horcruxes, she doesn’t know the contents of the Prophecy, and she certainly doesn’t know Harry himself is a Horcrux. Harry, of course, doesn’t yet know the certainty of him going to his own death, at this point in the text. But given the information she alone has been handed, inadvertently, by Harry, she has plenty of reason to begin to suspect the path Harry is on is one that might end in death, moreso for him than for an anyone else in this war.

Ginny doesn’t appear much in the following pages, other than in her role helping to prepare the house for the wedding. Over the next few days, she has lots of time to consider Harry’s words. We know she’s also sharing a bedroom with Hermione, who is actively preparing for their imminent departure, and watching the three of them try to sneak off together to make plans. This is time for Ginny to start to digest the information Harry has unwittingly divulged. She can now begin to think about how she ought to respond to the prospect of him leaving for a mission that will, likely, cost him his life.

The kiss itself

We can see Ginny has planned this interaction with Harry in her bedroom. The false casualness of how the scene opens - ‘Harry, can you come in here a moment?’ - and the actions of the bedroom’s other occupant, Hermione, suggests some level of premeditation and collaboration. For the first time, Ginny brings him into her bedroom, with the door closed. The setting is obviously intimate and suggestive.

Harry describes Ginny as seeming nervous, but purposeful, like she is readying herself for something - she ‘[takes] a deep breath’. She is looking at him ‘steadily’. Harry is nervous, too: he cannot bring himself to look at her, finding it almost painful, like ‘gazing into a brilliant light’ (DH, 98). Her trademark blazing look is in full force. She doesn’t entertain his attempts at small talk: she is serious about what she’s about to do.

‘‘I couldn’t think what to get you,’ she said.  ‘You didn’t have to get me anything.’ She disregarded this too.’ (DH, 98-9)

Ginny opens by revealing how difficult it has been for her to work out what she could give him, under the circumstances. She is, in her own way, acknowledging how hard she is finding processing what it is he has to do now. She has been struggling with the prospect of Harry’s departure, and the possibility, even the likelihood, of his death. But she has decided she wants to make that path easier for him. Despite his reassurance, she insists she wanted to give him something. 

‘‘I didn’t know what would be useful. Nothing too big, because you wouldn’t be able to take it with you.” He chanced a glance at her. She was not tearful...' (99)

These lines are so significant. The first two lines in particular are deeply profound. They read very differently to how I first thought of them, if seen in this light. I didn’t know what would be useful, she says, because she doesn't know what she can say that will be useful. What could possibly make this easier, to help Harry think about the enormity of his situation, or to help guide him on a path requiring him to accept his own likely death? 

She doesn’t want what she gives to him now to be too heavy, too sad, or too serious, because she knows Harry will not be able to deal with it (‘nothing too big’). Anything too declaratory, too sentimental, or too enormous, would be impossible for him to leave with. In the last part of the sentence, her words are deliberately vague: because you wouldn’t be able to take it with you. 

I think this is the most poignant part, and it suggests the part of Ginny's mind that believes in, and is curious about, what happens beyond, after death: the voices on the other side of the veil. I think there is some part of her that thinks Harry might be going somewhere she can’t reach him - what Dumbledore will later call going on. Ginny does not openly speculate about where Harry will be taking whatever she gives him. That it could be to his own grave, or beyond, is left unspoken. He looks at her, finally, after these words, because he seems to understand, on some level, what she is trying to say to him.

‘She took a step closer to him. ‘So then I thought, I’d like you to have something to remember me by, you know, if you meet some veela when you’re off doing whatever you’re doing.’’ (DH, 99)

Ginny has decided: the thing she will give him is a memory, one that he can take with him when they part. Something to remember me by. She wants the memory of her, of them, to be useful, to serve him in some way, and to be something that he might be able to take on with him after death. She tries to soften what she’s trying to convey, with the joke about the veela. But both seem to understand what she is really saying: that she isn’t really asking for his loyalty or fidelity. She doesn’t say she’s giving him ‘something to remember me by’ for when he comes back and they can be together again. Her words are very final. The joke is supposed to make it easier for him to hear what she is saying: she’s telling him, quietly, how to think about her when he leaves, whatever leaving might mean.

Harry, for his part, continues the joke. (‘I think dating opportunities are going to be pretty thin on the ground, to be honest.’) She plays along, sort of, in a very sad way (‘there’s the silver lining I’ve been looking for’). But both seem to know that there is no real silver lining to this. 

And then there’s the kiss itself: 

‘There’s the silver lining I’ve been looking for,’ she whispered, and then she was kissing him as she had never kissed him before, and Harry was kissing her back, and it was blissful oblivion, better than Firewhisky; she was the only real thing in the world, Ginny, the feel of her, one hand at her back and one in her long, sweet-smelling hair —’ (DH, 99)

It all comes to a head here. Harry recognises that this kiss feels exceptional, unlike any other they’ve ever shared - that Ginny has never put so much into a kiss before. It is ‘blissful oblivion’, this moment of extraordinary intensity, where she kisses him and allows him, for a moment, to think only about her and them together. It’s heady and sexual (‘the feel of her’). It’s a gift for Harry  to be able to forget everything and let this moment be a vacuum, to focus only on her. The crescendo effect of the short causes and run-on sentences allows the moment to build and build, a crescendo effect that anticipates something to come. 

Of course, their moment gets interrupted, again. Unlike when Ron interrupted her with Dean, Ginny doesn't rage at him this time: she is subdued, a response that is far more appropriate for her processing the fact that she may have just had her final kiss with the boy she loves. Harry suspects she has started to cry, something he notes is out of character. Ginny had imbued a lot of meaning into this interaction: this is a portrait of a character whose heart is breaking.

When Harry and Ron are discussing the kiss outside on the lawn, after the initial shock of being yelled at by Ron for going anywhere near Ginny, Harry has his own, shattering realisation of what all of this means for himself and Ginny:

‘Yeah, but you go snogging her now and she’s just going to get her hopes up again—’ ‘She’s not an idiot, she knows it can’t happen, she’s not expecting us to— to end up married, or—’  As he said it, a vivid picture formed in Harry’s mind of Ginny in a white dress, marrying a tall, faceless, and unpleasant stranger. In one spiralling moment it seemed to hit him: Her future was free and unencumbered, whereas his . . . he could see nothing but Voldemort ahead.’ (DH, 100)

Thinking aloud, Harry says it would be idiotic for he or Ginny to imagine they could be together, either now, or at any point in the future. He expects her to find someone else; he cannot even begin to imagine a future for himself after the task set out for him. He does not say his inevitable death - he has not yet embraced that reality - but he remains caught in the certainty of an existential battle with Voldemort that he knows he may well not survive.

Later that day, Harry will receive the snitch from Dumbledore’s will. Though he doesn’t know it yet, he now holds the resurrection stone, the item that will open at the close in the forest. It is a birthday that starts and ends with hints about what little time he has left: the stage is set for an arc that, now, has to end in his own death.

Foreshadowing Ginny and the Forest

Moments foreshadowing the significance of the forest are all over Deathly Hallows. Sometimes, they mirror the moment of his own death; often, they are related to Ginny. When they leave the Ministry, with Ron splinched, clutching the Horcrux locket, they arrive in a forest. For a moment Harry’s heart ‘leaped’ at the thought that they were back in Hogwarts’ grounds, the site of so much of his earlier happiness with Ginny (DH, 221). When the trio hear that Ginny, Neville and Luna tried to steal the sword of Gryffindor, it is the Forbidden Forest they are sent to by Snape as punishment (248-9). Harry does not fear the Forest, and is consoled by the thought of Ginny serving detention there rather than anywhere else.

In the Forest of Dean, the scene where Ron returns begins with Harry thinking of Ginny. He sits at the mouth of the tent, wanting to look for Ginny on the Marauders’ Map, until he remembers it’s Christmastime and she is at the Burrow (297). Later, in a moment that mirrors his later walk to his death, he follows his mother - Snape’s patronus, the doe - into the woods, in order to recover and destroy the Horcrux, inching Harry’s own life closer to its close:

Though the darkness had swallowed her whole, [the doe’s] burnished image was still imprinted on his retinas; it obscured his vision, brightening when he lowered his eyelids, disorienting him. Now fear came: Her presence had meant safety. “Lumos!” he whispered, and the wand-tip ignited. The imprint of the doe faded away with every blink of his eyes as he stood there, listening to the sounds of the forest, to distant crackles of twigs…  He held the wand higher. Nobody ran out at him, no flash of green light burst from behind a tree. Why, then, had she led him to this spot?’ (DH, 299)

Foreshadowing Harry's end in the Forest means also foreshadowing Ginny's own appearance at the moment of his death.

Harry’s ‘death’ in the Forest 

In the final battle, Ginny is the last person Harry sees before he begins his walk into the Forest. He takes the words she says to the child on the ground as her final act of comfort. Harry hears them as if they are being spoken to him: 

‘He was feet away from her when he realised it was Ginny.  He stopped in his tracks. She was crouching over a girl who was whispering for her mother.  ‘It’s all right,’ Ginny was saying. ‘It’s okay. We’re going to get you inside.’  ‘But I want to go home,’ whispered the girl. ‘I don’t want to fight anymore!’ ‘I know,’ said Ginny, and her voice broke. ‘It’s going to be all right.’  Ripples of cold undulated over Harry’s skin. He wanted to shout out to the night, he wanted Ginny to know that he was there, he wanted her to know where he was going. He wanted to be stopped, to be dragged back, to be sent back home (...) Ginny was kneeling beside the injured girl now, holding her hand. With a huge effort Harry forced himself on. He thought he saw Ginny look around as he passed, and wondered whether she had seen someone walking nearby, but he did not speak, and he did not look back.’ (DH, 558-9)

Harry believes that this is his final moment with Ginny before he goes to die. A part of him wants her to know that it’s happening: he is leaving, at last. But he can't call to her, because he worries she will try and stop him, and he might let her. Instead, he walks on, and doesn’t look back. After watching Ginny comfort the girl crying for her mother, Harry then goes on to the Forest, and summons his own mother, his own family, to walk with him to his death.  

‘His body and mind felt oddly disconnected now, his limbs working without conscious instruction, as if he were passenger, not driver, in the body he was about to leave. The dead who walked beside him through the forest were much more real to him now that the living back at the castle: Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and all the others were the ones who felt like ghosts as he stumbled and slipped toward the end of his life, toward Voldemort. . . .' (DH, 561-2)

Harry is already preparing to go on from this world: his living loved ones are the ones he now feels furthest from. He stands now with the dead he has summoned, who recognise him and seem to have memories of him. He doesn't fear the dead: he is going to join them.

It’s the death scene itself that I think has subtle, but important parallels with the kiss scene much earlier. In both imagery and in writing style, the scene recalls that earlier moment, where Harry found himself on the edge of another kind of oblivion. There is this mounting, febrile sense of anticipation. There is a tension that is almost sexual, a dynamic injected into the scene through descriptions of Bellatrix’s body language and behaviour towards Voldemort:

‘Bellatrix, who had leapt to her feet, was looking eagerly from Voldemort to Harry, her breast heaving. The only things that moved were the flames and the snake, coiling and uncoiling in the glittering cage behind Voldemort’s head.’  (DH, 564)

The ugly parallel of Bellatrix and Voldemort is not supposed to show the pair as the mirror image of Harry and Ginny. Rather, it is a theme that recurs throughout the series to demonstrate the gulf between Harry, with his immense capacity for love, and Voldemort, with none. Bellatrix and Ginny are memorably paralleled twice in the series: once, at the Department of Mysteries, where Bellatrix moves to ‘torture the little girl’, and Harry steps in to prevent her (OotP, 783), and again in the final battle: 

'Bellatrix was still fighting too, fifty yards away from Voldemort, and like her master she dueled three at once: Hermione, Ginny, and Luna, all battling their hardest, but Bellatrix was equal to them, and Harry’s attention was diverted as a Killing Curse shot so close to Ginny that she missed death by an inch—  He changed course, running at Bellatrix rather than Voldemort, but before he had gone a few steps he was knocked sideways…’ (DH, 589)

As Harry waits for the killing curse, we see the most direct parallel with Ginny's final kiss to him:

‘None of the Death Eaters moved. They were waiting: everything was waiting. Hagrid was struggling, and Bellatrix was panting, and Harry thought inexplicably of Ginny, and her blazing look, and the feel of her lips on his — ’ (DH, 564)

There's such an intense physicality and breathlessness to the whole scene, and an enduring pseudo-sexual tension, with Bellatrix audibly panting. Even the sentence structure even invokes the kissing scene: the run-on build up of clauses, the repetition of the present participle to actively hold the reader in one present moment, building and building and ending on a dash, the promise of something more.

At the end of his life, Harry returns to the memory Ginny gave him. She meant for it to be useful, if he was to go to his death. And at the close of his life he chooses to use it, as he prepares to leave her behind in this world and depart for the next. Just as the Resurrection Stone helped accept death, so too does the memory of Ginny. He feels the memory of her, the sensation of physical touch and of being kissed, the look she gives him that he knows as one of love and great courage. As he is killed, he remembers her last gift to him, the certainty of her love for him impressed upon him.

--

There's a line in OotP that I think is such an underrated line that sums up who Ginny is as a character. Harry is trying to get to Umbridge's fire to speak to Sirius when he thinks the latter is being tortured at the Ministry; Hermione suggests using Ginny and Luna as a distraction, despite Harry's objections:

'Though clearly struggling to understand what was going on, Ginny said immediately, ‘Yeah, we’ll do it,'... (OotP, 736)

This is who Ginny is. It's especially who she is to Harry, during the war. She doesn't fully know what's actually being asked of Harry (and, by extension, what is being asked of her, as the person who loves him, and who has most to lose if he is to die). But even when kept in the dark, she is enormously selfless, and her biggest act of bravery is extremely quiet. She keeps the secret Harry accidentally bestows on her, and she realises, in some sense, before he does, what it will likely mean for his life. She chooses to let him go on, knowing that he is loved, to make the path that he is on a little bit easier, even when she has realised that it will take him away from her for good.

[puppy-byun]

Just Friends... Unless...? | Pt. 3

pairing: Hyunjin x Reader / a sprinkle of Seonghwa x Reader

rating: 18+

word count: 13.3k

genre: smut / friends to lovers / angst / university au

warnings: curse words, weed consumption and drinking (not by reader or hyunjin), angst, bad flirting, more angst, ANGST, sex, please use protection please be smart!!!!, fingering, overstimulation, oral (f. receiving), light dirty talk, pet names

summary: You weren’t crushing on Hyunjin. You couldn’t be crushing on Hyunjin because you were just friends, and there was no way he would ever feel the same way about you. Right? Unless...?

note: we're already done with another one i can't believe... I hope you all had fun and enjoyed this & if you did I'd be happy if you leave me your thoughts in a reply or ask hihi

taglist: @chartrucewhore @hyunfruits @petalsnow @yaorzu-blog

previous | masterlist 

You didn’t expect Chan to wait for you two days later after your lecture, leaning against the wall next to the exit of your classroom, arms crossed like a father waiting for his daughter to get home in the middle of the night.

“Uhm, hi?” you greeted, not unhappy to see your friend but something in your gut told you he was here with a purpose that you weren’t going to like. Nonetheless you gently disentangled his arms and hooked yours through instead, tugging him along down the hallway and towards the building’s exit. “To what do I owe the honor of you picking me up? Don’t you have classes, too?” you mock scolded, already having an idea why he was here. You were sending a silent prayer that you were wrong.

“I do but apparently if you fake a spontaneous bout of sickness they excuse you before you can throw up in their classroom.” Chan admitted with a proud grin and you swatted him over the back of his head, struggling to reach up.

“Skipping class, I see.” you tsked, shaking your head as if you were disappointed in him. “And here I thought you are a role model.”

Chan let out a dry chuckle, raising an eyebrow. “To whom? Jeongin already is the most responsible one out of you guys. I gave up a while ago with the rest of you.”

You laughed with him, knowing that he was only joking because while some of you were indeed slacking off at times, you knew no one more dedicated to their passions than your friends.

“Anyway, I know what you’re doing, and you know just fine why I’m here.”

“Yes actually I just remembered I wanted to talk to my professor so I’m gonna head back-“ you were already about to turn around and make a swift exit to anywhere where Chan wasn’t but he had expected this and caught your arm faster than you could dive away from his grasp.

“Oh no. We are going to talk now.” Giving in with a sigh you let him pull you along but refused to say anything. This talk would only happen if Chan coaxed it out of you word by word.

“Here, I brought you some endorphins because I have a feeling you need them,” he started, fishing one of your favorite chocolate bars out of his bag. You took it with a mumbled thank you but refused to look at your friend, focusing on the chocolate instead.

“Chan, we already talked at that stupid pool party. What more is there to talk about?”

“For starters, we could talk about what on earth went down after we talked, because Seungmin, Minho and Felix have all separately told me that Hyunjin is basically living in the practice room ever since that night.”

“That’s like, two days. He’s done that before, it’s normal,” you waved him off nonchalantly, refusing to admit anything as long as you didn’t have to. You wish you could say you had managed to not think about that night much, or at least everything that had gone down before you had gone inside with Seonghwa. But your mind was as hyper-focused on Hyunjin as ever, even when he was being an absolute idiot.

“We all know that, but if they’re worried you know it’s exceeding the normal extent. And the fact that you’re not looking at me and keep pretending this chocolate is the most fascinating thing you’ve ever seen is telling me that you know damn well what I’m talking about.”

“Why don’t you go talk to him then?” you huffed, trying not to come off as snappy because Chan didn’t deserve your frustration.

“Because you were my friend first. I can tell you’re unhappy and I want to help, but if you don’t tell me what’s wrong I can’t do that.”

“You can’t help either way, Chan. But alright,-“ you conceded with a sigh “I’ll tell you. Hyunjin and me kissed, okay?” you dropped that bomb in as meek a voice as possible, ready to move on with your retelling and not dwell on this. “And then he-“

“Hold up, stop right there. When?“ he physically stopped mid-walk, eyes big and hand held out in front of your chest, automatically causing you to look up at him.

“Karaoke night.” You answered automatically. “The others took Jisung home and I offered to take Hyunjin because he was drunk. That’s when.” You finished lamely, hoping to skip the recounting of this night in any more detail.

“The next day he didn’t remember anything. Or he pretended not to remember anything. I doesn’t really matter, because I realized how fucked I am either way. And ever since then things have been really weird between us. The kiss-“  you cringed a bit at that word because it had been so much more, and if it really just had been a kiss the whole situation probably wouldn’t have blown up quite like this. “After the kiss it was weird because I remembered. And whether purposely or not, Hyunjin didn’t. But I thought we’d be fine when he asked if I’d come to the pool party. And then he really exploded on me in a nasty way and now everything is even worse.”

“Was that before or after you got cozy with Seonghwa?”

“After,” you added meekly, his gaze telling you exactly where he was going with this. He didn’t even add anything, just staring at you with a raised brow and letting the pregnant silence weigh in.

Finally you gave in, looking away with a grumpy huff because maybe Chan was making some points, but you had just as many to prove that he was wrong, the biggest one being that you had been friends for three years with no instance of Hyunjin ever indicating he wanted to be more than your friend other than that one time two weeks ago.

“You know, I’ve been talking about this with Changbin and Seungmin a lot, but actually everyone except for you knows.”

You didn’t have to ask what he meant, but you also didn’t indulge him with a reply. Just because they thought they were pinpointing some signs correctly didn’t prove anything unless Hyunjn told anyone himself.

“Why do you think none of us have ever made a move on you, apart from the obvious reasons why I haven’t?”

“Because we’re friends,” you supplied with a tone that clearly implied a heavy duh. You didn’t miss the irony of saying the same thing about Hyunjin and you, yet everything between the two of you was vastly different.

“And you think just because we’re friends Jisung or Changbin have never had a crush on you?”

“What?!” you burst out, too shocked now to continue staying nonchalant and blasé about this when you hadn’t been the whole talk anyways.

Chan was only grinning because he knew he got you now. “Well anyways, that’s not the point,” he added unhelpfully, clearly not going to dwell on this topic right after he dropped a bomb like that.

“Why did you tell me then?!” you pressed on, your brain still processing his last few sentences and not quite keeping up.

“To prove a point, obviously. They’re long over it now- actually over it, not the way you were over Hyunjin.” You punched him in the shoulder for that jab, even though he was regretfully completely right again. “They never acted on it because Hyunjin has always liked you, right from the very beginning.”

“As if Changbin is scared of competing with Hyunjin,” you scoffed, still not buying what Chan was selling you because the idea that Hyunjin liked you was simply too ridiculous.

“He’s not, of course, but everyone can tell how much Hyunjin likes you and no one wants to hurt him that way.”

“Chan, I appreaciate the effort of making me feel better, but none of this makes sense. Why was Hyunjin all over Chaeyoung if he allegedly likes me?”

“Why were you all over Seonghwa?”

“Because I want to get over Hyunjin and I want to prove to myself that I ca- oh.” You stopped mid-sentence, realizing you had talked yourself into this one. You hated to admit that Chan was making sense but there was no way to deny it. Neither you nor Hyunjin had ever had hookups in front of the other in those three years you had known each other, but as soon as you had, both of you had reacted so poorly it was downright embarrassing. Him getting drunk and throwing a fit, you jumping on Seonghwa’s offer to fuck just to prove a point. Maybe Chan was right after all. Yet, if Hyunjin liking you meant him treating you the way he had you weren’t sure you wanted it.

“He still said horrible things to me, Chan. I could tell he wanted his words to hurt. Who does that, especially since he allegedly likes me?”

“Feelings do make us act more irrational and stupid. And he was drunk.”

“Yeah, so? And on top of that he had plenty of time to apologize, yet he did not.”

Chan sighed, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his side in a comforting half-hug.

“Look, I’m not trying to protect him, I’m one hundred percent with you on this. But we’ve all done and said horrible things coming from a place of hurt. You’re not even sure if he remembers the kiss, yet you’re hurt he doesn’t mention it. But you were sober, and if he remembers but for some reason acts as if he doesn’t, then he knows you remember for sure, yet you don’t mention it either.”

You ignored that technically Chan was, once again, right. You couldn’t really blame Hyunjin if he was pretending not to remember, not unless you held yourself accountable too, because you could’ve brought it up just as well, but chickened out.

“So, we agree he’s probably lying to me?” you settled on instead, because this was easier. Being angry at Hyunjin was easier than facing that both of you screwed up big time.

“Listen, if this were any other guy I’d already have punched him in the face personally,” Chan assured you, squeezing your shoulder gently. “But it’s Hyunjin. We’ve all been friends for years. You have been in love for years-“

“Debatable on his part,” you protested just for good measure but Chan simply ignored the comment.

“-while I was hoping this would explode with you two finally fucking, it kinda went the other direction, but that doesn’t mean it’s unfixable.”

And he was right, you didn’t want to give up on this friendship, on Hyunjin, so easily. Feelings or not, he had been one of your closest friends for so long you did not want to lose that over something this stupid. But you were also hurt, and those feelings didn’t just go away either.

“I’ll think about it.” You finally admitted in defeat, feeling extremely overwhelmed with everything going through your head, but you couldn’t deny that talking to Chan had helped. “It’s just a lot to take in and I’m not sure what to do with any of this just yet.”

You weren’t sure a couple of days later either, but the world regrettably didn’t stop spinning for you to figure out your feelings, so you were left with very little choices but to confront them sooner rather than later.

“Come oooooon,” Chaeryoung was whining for the nth time this morning, and you couldn’t really be mad at her. “It’s a Jackson Wang party, you know we cannot pass on that.”

You rolled your eyes, trying not to groan because she couldn’t know all the reasons you very well wanted to pass on a Jackson Wang party since you hadn’t told her. “I’ve literally heard damn near urban legends about his parties, and when we finally get invited to one you want to say no?!”

She had said this, too, at least twice already.

“What do you mean we? Last time I remembered Seonghwa asked me,” you joked, teasing her because this was the only thing you could do since you couldn’t outright be annoyed with her. It wasn’t her fault she didn’t know you had good reasons not to go. If anything, you had to blame yourself for telling her Seonghwa invited you in the first place.

His text message was the first thing you had seen in the morning and in your half-asleep state you had not considered the consequences of telling Chaeryoung you had received an invitation to a party at Jackson Wang’s house. Not only was she dead-set on the fact that there was no way you would decline because she would, quote, ‘rather die than miss this opportunity’.

To make matters worse, she had consequently found out that the invitation had come from none other than Seonghwa directly. Since there were very few scenarios as to why he would invite you her mind immediately jumped to the one plausible conclusion. You didn’t feel like diving into a recount of your night – especially because you’d rather not mention what led up to the decision to leave with Seonghwa, so you just let her construct her own picture of what had happened. You didn’t need to elaborate on whether you had actually slept with him or not before you found out he’s the biggest Star Wars nerd (the R2D2 underwear was a bit of a giveaway though) and had subsequently spent the rest of your night with him trying to convince you you just absolutely had to marathon Star Wars with him.

You were fairly sure that this wasn’t necessarily a booty call (although he probably wouldn’t say no either) – he actually just seemed to enjoy hanging out with you.)

Chaeryoung, however, who was nurturing a never-ending admiration from afar for Hongjoong, had smelled blood, convinced that this was the night she would finally get to make a move.

Since then she had not stopped pestering you for the last three or so hours, constantly bringing up new arguments why you had to go and why there was no reason not to, and you had trouble coming up with an excuse. You couldn’t very well tell her the truth, which was that there was a very high risk Hyunjin would be at the party as well, and you were far from having figured out your feelings and definitely not ready to face him. Then again, you doubted you would know what to do even if you had a week or a month to think about it. Plus, since you doubted Chaeryoung would let go of this, you finally gave in with a sigh, reaching for your phone to ask Chan if he would be going as well and could drive you.

“Don’t ignore me!” Chaeryoung huffed, plopping down on the sofa next to you to catch a glimpse at your phone. “Hold up, are you actually asking Chan do drive us? I convinced you?”

She looked at you so shocked you realized she hadn’t actually been sure she would succeed.

“As if you’d ever let me live it down if I got between you and your shot at getting with Hongjoong.”

“Very true, bestie,” she nodded, poking her tongue out and almost jumping up when your phone buzzed next to you. “Was that Chan? Is he driving us? God I can’t believe I’ll end up making out with Hongjoong tonight.”

If anything, you had to commend her confidence and drive, so you let her have the moment, even though you felt sick at the prospect of probably seeing Hyunjin again already.

Jackson’s house was big, at least from the stories you’d heard. That is what you were telling yourself to calm down and convince yourself there was a chance that you might be spared from running into Hyunjin. Those hopes were crushed mercilessly when you were towed towards Chan’s car by Chaeryoung a few hours later, and you spotted the one boy you had been hoping to avoid on the passenger seat next to Chan. Granted, you only saw the back of his head and the tiniest bit of side profile but that was enough for you to immediately recognize Hyunjin.

Your mood soured almost instantly, feeling a bit betrayed that Chan hadn’t even warned you. Yeah, he was still going with the whole ‘you both need to confront your feelings and sort this out’ thing, but there were subtle ways to push the agenda, and then there was this. Chaeryoung, still thankfully oblivious to the true reason of your hesitancy to go to this party, was dragging you to the car without slowing down, opening the door and greeting everyone with a bright and bubbly hello. You couldn’t share her excitement, half tempted to whack Chan over the head for forcing you into this situation. You hadn’t talked to Hyunjin in days, technically even longer if the awkward half-conversations via texts before that weren’t counted – and they shouldn’t be. And as if to fuck you over even more, the dim lights of the car were not enough to conceal his outfit. God, he had to be doing this on purpose.

He knew he looked good, of course he knew. Ever since he had grown out his hair and bleached it even he couldn’t not notice the effect he had on people around him. Despite that he barely went through any extra effort when you went out, knowing he looked breath-taking as it was.

Not tonight though. Tonight, as if struggling with your feelings for him day by day wasn’t torture enough, he wore his long hair open, casually tucked behind his ears to show off a row of earrings dangling. He’d even gone through the trouble of applying eyeliner – you’d only seen him do that once or twice, despite always telling him how good it looked, but of course tonight he’d remember. It wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was the high sleeveless top, that didn’t just show off his arms and shoulders in a way that made it impossible not to look. No, as if that wasn’t enough, the sleeve cut outs were so big if he moved just a bit he might as well just go shirtless. You were just about ready to throw the door shut and run back to your dorm, abandoning ship, but Chaeryoung wasn’t having any of it. She grabbed your wrist and pulled you into the car so decisively you almost banged your head.

At least the light and angle were saving you from the sight of Hyunjin’s lean muscles peeking out thanks to that horrible shirt.

You mumbled out a greeting so silent and grumpy it was only rivalled by Hyunjin’s, and your hopes for having a decent, amicable evening were dwindling rapidly. The looks should have been an incentive to do what Chan kept urging you to do – either talk it out or finally get on Hyunjin’s lap – but in all honestly it only made you angry because there was no way this was a coincidence. He barely ever made an effort, and suddenly tonight he would make sure to tick all the boxes of everything you’d ever mentioned you found attractive?

You were still hoping that Hyunjin might be smarter sober, but the mood between you was undeniably icy already, so you weren’t very optimistic. Even though you hadn’t sorted your feelings out and talking to Chan had only made everything a lot more complicated you desperately wanted to find even the smallest reason to forgive Hyunjin to at least have your friend back. But he wasn’t even looking at you, giving you a vibe so frosty you doubted he even wanted to be forgiven. You had really hoped sober him would be more reasonable than drunk him, but you hadn’t counted on just how petty Hyunjin could be.

“You look good.” You barely caught Chan’s comment, snorting when the words filtered in because he was shamelessly exaggerating.

“If you’d say that to Chaeryoung I’d believe you. I’m wearing sneakers and a shirt, who are you trying to fool?”

You were surprised just how much you were able to shut out Hyunjin and shove those feelings aside even when he was right there. But even so the conversation simply felt off, and how could it not when two out of four people wouldn’t even properly look at each other. It was Chan’s own fault, really, for bringing you both in this situation, but poor Chaeryoung had no idea what was going on. She had undoubtedly caught on to the mood, if her squirming next to you was any indication.

Chaeryoung was talkative by nature, bubbly and sweet, but she could not handle awkward or uncomfortable silences so it had only been a matter of time before she would force up a conversation. You had come surprisingly far before she couldn’t take it any longer; but for the second time today her not being in the loop was coming to bite you in the ass, because what she caught on was the one topic she assumed all of you were in on.

“I wish I could just show up in shorts and a shirt, honestly, but I have a game plan for tonight and that’s getting with Hongjoong, and I’ll be damned if I don’t pull all the heavy weaponry,” she stated, pointing her finger towards her very generously low-cut top as if it hadn’t been clear already what she was talking about. “I still can’t believe you pulled Seonghwa without any effort and you don’t even let me in on your secrets.”

You had laughed when you’d told her about it the first time. It wasn’t so funny now, when you caught Hyunjin stiffen in his seat out of the corner of your eye. Chan, as small as a consolidation as it was, seemed to catch on that maybe this wasn’t the best conversational topic, but Chaeryoung couldn’t know that and judging by how she was worrying the edge of her dress nervously, visibly uncomfortable in this car ride, you already knew she wouldn’t read the room and stop talking.

“If you go home with him again tonight, which, by the way, I really think you should because that pretty boy is quite the catch, you have to tell us beforehand so we don’t end up looking for you all over the house.”

You just desperately wanted her to not push this topic any further but at this point the damage was done and your fingers were digging into the seat of Chan’s car. Hyunjin’s voice came like an icy cut, cold and with a snide you had barely ever heard from him. In a way, this was even worse than the weekend before, because this time he was sober.

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask what that even was last weekend. I never pegged you to be the type of girl to throw herself at a guy the way you threw yourself at him.”

For a moment no one said anything, the words sinking in. You were honestly struggling to even come up with anything to say because you didn’t find it in you to throw something equally as malicious at his head when you didn’t mean it.

“What the hell, Hyunjin?!”

It was Chan who spoke up instead, sounding somewhere between irritated and furious, and while you were grateful he felt the need to stand up for you, you feared it would only make things worse. “As if you weren’t close to shoving your hand down Chaeyoung’s bikini top right in that pool. A bit hypocritical to call someone out for flirting, don’t you think?”

You knew Chan was judging neither of you for any of that. But he had already told you that if it were any other guy treating you this way he would’ve already punched him. Apparently Hyunjin slut-shaming you was tethering dangerously close to making Chan forget they were friends.

“Of course you’re going to pick her side.”

You weren’t sure whether you had wanted an answer from Hyunjin beyond that, because it was bad enough, but you should have expected that it would only get much worse when Chaeryoung decided she had to defend you, too, probably irritated at the fact that you were not speaking up for yourself. Outstanding qualities in a friend, but right at that moment you wished she would care for you a little less.

“So, when did you realize you have a crush? Before or after she fucked Seonghwa?” Chaeryoung’s voice was a sneer but what was worse was Hyunjin’s reaction upon hearing her words. Chan had barely parked the car, not even killed the engine yet, and Hyunjin stormed out without another word, banging the car door shut with such force all three of you flinched in your seats.

You had thought it couldn’t possibly be more awkward when you’d entered the car, but now with Hyunjin’s dramatic exit you realized you had been dead wrong. Chan was gripping the stirring wheel so hard his knuckles turned white, and you didn’t even need to fully look at Chaeryoung to catch the look of utter shock on her face. In any other situation you’d have laughed, but now you only felt empty and exhausted.

You didn’t know whether either of them was waiting for you to say something or not, but even if they were, there was nothing you could’ve possibly said. You were as affronted as they were, although probably a hell of a lot more hurt. But now that you were already at the party and the damage was done, there was little you could do, so you decided that you would at least try to make it as pleasant as possible for your friends.

“I thought you wanted to meet Hongjoong, what are we sitting around here for?” you quipped up at Chaeryoung instead, the cheerfulness in your voice sounding forced even to you, but it was honestly the best you could do. You were out of the car before either of them could say something and you heard the car doors shut behind you. Of course they wouldn’t simply leave it at that after what had just happened though.

“Are you sure you still want to go?” Chan’s voice was laced thickly with worry while you heard him hurry after you. You were crossing the ridiculously long driveway with big strides, even more grateful you had opted for sneakers instead of anything less comfortable. You didn’t look back, but you knew Chaeryoung had trouble keeping up with the way she was huffing between her words.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know I was bringing up a touchy topic,” she asserted, sounding honestly guilty even though you’d never dream of blaming her for something that she couldn’t have known and wasn’t her fault.

“You’re clearly upset, can we please go get burgers or something instead and talk about this?” Chan was pleading to a rational part of you that had shut down the moment Hyunjin had banged the car door shut with anger. Of course you were upset, but no amount of talking or fast food could change that.

“Chan is right, this party isn’t important, let’s watch Netflix and trash talk Hyunjin instead,” Chaeryoung reinforced Chan’s arguments, but you weren’t even close to agreeing. Hyunjin had ruined enough of your time by making you upset about him. Turning around with an angry huff you shook your head decidedly.

“Guys, I appreciate your concern but it’s fine. I don’t care. Fuck Hwang Hyunjin.”

You found Seonghwa on the first level balcony, a laughably large space with various lounge chairs, a fire crackling in an iron brazier, and its own, second bar. There would definitely be no one leaving sober for a lack of alcohol.

Seonghwa was lounged on one of the lush looking pillows covering the beach chairs, surrounded by a few other people. You hadn’t been introduced to them but you knew them at least by sight, every single one of them infamous on campus in their own regard. Plastering the brightest smile you could muster on your face you crossed the balcony, side-stepping a few drunk people dancing until you reached Seonghwa, who was already looking at you with a dazzling smile, seemingly actually happy to see you.

“Hey angel. I see you put on the fancy shirt for me,” you glanced down, taking short notice of the shirt Seonghwa was talking about, only to confirm with a nod and a grin.

“Of course. I knew you, at least, would appreciate the effort I took.”

He was still wearing that big goopy grin, but you could tell even in the dim light that his eyes were a little unfocused. If the red cups littering the floor around them and the smell of weed were any indication, you weren’t surprised why.

“C’mere,” Seonghwa drawled, one arm wrapping around your leg so he could pull you towards him. You caught yourself by the edge of the lounge chair before you fell like an idiot, letting him move you on his lap until he was satisfied with the way every part of you was pressed against him as close as possible.

“I get horny when I’m high,” he giggled as an explanation, but probably also as an excuse, when his hand immediately slipped under your shirt to draw small circles on the skin of your hips. So, you might have not come here with the intention of letting this thing with Seonghwa progress anywhere further than indulging his nerdier side, but you were confused, hurt, and suddenly letting him comfort you didn’t seem like such a bad idea anymore.

Your evening had been ruined enough already, so it was easy to simply let yourself sink into his touch, enjoying the simplicity of spending time in someone’s company where you didn’t have to think beyond how you’d get home with him. Maybe the fact that Seonghwa’s and Hyunjin’s social circles didn’t really mingle, so the chances of seeing the latter again tonight were slim, did help.

Seonghwa was introducing you to his friends, Wooyoung and San, whose names you had already known by their reputation alone, but pretended not to out of politeness. You thought you were doing great, making polite conversation and laughing at their jokes even though most of them had some context you couldn’t understand since they were a pretty tight-knit group, and had been for years. But apparently you weren’t as smooth as you had thought you were because Seonghwa was pinching your side - a couple of times, judging by the impatient notion of the movement - to rip you out of your thoughts and get your attention. 

“Who upset you angel?”

You froze for a second, whipping your head around to look at him, his stupidly perfect eyebrows scrunched in concern despite how drunk he clearly was.

“It’s nothing.” You waved it off, not wanting to get into it. You were looking for distractions, not yet another person to lament your stupid boy troubles to. “I just had a dumb fight on the way here and it’s pissing me off, although I’m trying not to let it.”

You tried to keep it short, not wanting to burden Seonghwa with things he probably didn’t care about. You got along, yeah, but you were far from calling him a friend already and there was probably no way he actually wanted to hear about your problems, despite looking concerned. And even if he did, you had barely talked about them with your closest friends, so you sure as hell wouldn’t with a near stranger, when all you wanted was to get said fight off your mind.

Seonghwa seemed to contemplate your words for a moment – or maybe he was just trying to make sense of them because he looked and sounded positively wasted and high off his ass. You weren’t quite sure which one it was until he bit his lip, hesitant to speak up.

“Just say whatever you want to say, Hwa. It can’t be worse than some things I’ve heard today already,” you sighed, encouraging him to speak up.

“That fight… was it with that Hyunjin guy?”

For a moment you were too shocked to reply, staring at him open-mouthed because if even his drunk and dazed mind had managed to come to that conclusion then you didn’t even want to know how much of this conflict had gotten through to your friends other than Chan.

“It’s- yeah. With him,” you ended lamely, not really knowing what else to say and since he’d already guessed it you might as well go with the truth. After all it had been Seonghwa who had been there last time when you had fought too, so he probably knew more than the people close to you did.

“I take it you did not talk it out?” he implored further, referring to the last fight where you had told Hyunjin that you would talk about it when he was sober, which ended up not happening. You only shook your head in confirmation to his words.

“Can I be honest with you?” the way he asked you knew that if you said no he wouldn’t hold it against you, but you had gone through so much shit the last weeks some part of you wanted someone to be honest and blunt.

“Go ahead,” you nodded, leaning on your arm to sit yourself up a bit higher and look at him properly.

“Truth is, I’ve been wondering how you spend so much time with all these guys and haven’t ended up fucking at least one of them.”

You had expected many things, but you hadn’t expected Seonghwa to say that. You burst out laughing, looking at him incredulously.

“Because we’re friends,” you emphasized, shaking your head in disbelief. “Nothing against friends fucking, but it’s not like that. They don’t think of me that way.”

Your mind immediately went back to the conversation you’d had with Chan and how he’d so nonchalantly mentioned that some of your friends had, indeed, been crushing on you at some point. And you were quite the liar as well, seeing as how you very much had wanted to sleep with Hyunjin, as friends or as more, so at some point at least one person in the group had thought of someone else that way.

Seonghwa seemed to have drawn a similar conclusion.

“Well, one of them clearly does.”

Obviously he meant Hyunjin, and you didn’t know if it made you feel better or worse that even your hook-up was under the impression that Hyunjin apparently was into you. Gnawing on your lip, you didn’t know what to tell him. You hadn’t sorted anything out and you had come to Seonhwa to have a good time, not to talk about your feelings for another guy.

“Tell you what,” Seonghwa finally sighed, seeing how you weren’t going to answer. He was sitting himself up straighter, gently pushing you off his lap and setting you on the space left on the lounge chair next to him. “I think you should go and clear your head. Whatever it is you guys got going on, you haven’t figured it out. As much as I’d enjoy sleeping with you, getting you to ride me is not the solution you seem to think it is. It’s only gonna make you feel more miserable. I’m a big boy, I can handle rejection. And I’m still holding you to that Star Wars marathon, sex or not.”

You couldn’t reply, still processing how drunk and high Seonghwa ended up giving you bette advice than anything you managed to come up with all evening.

“I like you. That’s precisely why I’m not going to sleep with you, because I think you should talk to that Hyunjin dude and at least give him a piece of your mind for being an absolute asshole to someone as stunning as you.”

If you had expected a lot, you had not expected this from Seonghwa. Despite the slur in his words he was making sense and it scared you how reasonable he was being, when he could’ve just used the chance to get you on his dick faster. But he was right, sleeping with him had sounded really smart in your head, but while the sex would make you feel good, the emotional mess you were in would only get worse. And while he didn’t seem to mind, it wasn’t quite fair to use him as a way to try and get over your crush.

“God, I wish I would have fallen for you instead, this is so much easier,” you cursed, gesturing between the two of you and Seonghwa shook his head with a snort.

“You don’t want that, angel, I’m here for good sex but there’s a lot of commitment issues to unpack.”

You rolled your eyes, whacking him on the arm. Now that you had, if not verbally, admitted to him, of all people, that you were in love with Hyunjin, everything somehow seemed much clearer and simpler.

“So, what am I supposed to do now, Hwa?” you implored, hoping that in his infinite weed-induced wisdom Seonghwa would be able to help you yet again, but it seemed his resources of deep advice were all dried up.

“I don’t know, get wasted? Have some really hot angry sex with that guy? Punch him in the dick? Although if it’s the latter I want to watch, ‘kay? Twitch stream it or something.”

You laughed incredulously, not missing how Seonghwa easily managed to make you feel much more relaxed and at ease even though the topic at hand never failed to make you anxious.

“I can’t believe I’m taking advice from you,” you quickly leant in, pecking him on the lips softly and very much innocently one last time, noticing the small pout on Seonghwa’s lips.

“If it goes south, my bed is still free.”

You threw him a thumbs up and rolled your eyes before politely excusing yourself from his friends. Despite what he’d suggested you weren’t about to look for Hyunjin right away. You definitely were not about to punch him in the dick – at least not yet. Rather, you were looking for Chan so he could take you home. Seonghwa’s words did make a lot of sense but tonight simply wasn’t the right time or the right place.

The house was bigger than you had guessed from the outside, a downright labyrinth and after declining a worrying amount of dubious drinks and strolling for thirty minutes without ever seeing the host himself you finally managed to at least find Chan. He hadn’t been picking up his phone so you’d had to resign to searching for him the old fashioned way, relieved when you finally spotted his mop of blond hair and his comforting voice in what seemed to be yet another guest room. He was sprawled on the bed with another familiar face sitting at the foot of the bed, head leant on the mattress. If you had thought Seonghwa was high you hadn’t been ready for Chan and Seokjin. You knew they were both older and had been friends for a while, Chan always ending up at the bar during karaoke Wednesdays to chat with Jin, but you hadn’t known what these two were usually up to when they spent time together. Hyunjin was there too, lying on a sofa with his phone in hand, but you were almost proud you didn’t even spare him more than a glance, almost staying indifferent.

Not knowing if Chan was in any headspace to have a conversation you decide to try your luck.

“Hey Chan, have you seen Chaeryoung?” you weren’t sure whether you should even expect an answer, but since Chan clearly wasn’t ready to take care of you in any way you decided your friend was the next safe option before you’d actually go back to Seonghwa and do something you might regret.

To your surprise he did mumble something in reply that vaguely sounded like ‘Hongjoong’, which you took as a good sign. Maybe this evening had gone the way it was supposed to for your friend at least. It also meant you couldn’t count on her now, but that was alright if it meant she was getting with the guy she’d been drooling over for months.

However, Chan couldn’t possibly drive you, which also meant you were pretty much out of options. As if he was reading your thoughts Chan slowly sat up, soft smile and eyes hazy, holding the blunt he was smoking in your direction.

“You look like you need this,” he offered as an explanation and you cringed a little inwardly at how obvious you were being time and time again.

“That’s very sweet, but no thanks,” you declined, knowing he only meant well, because he always had your best interest in mind. Contemplating what to do now you fell silent for a moment, feeling Chan’s scrutinizing gaze on you. You were hoping he was too out of it to notice that ever since you’d left the car earlier things had become even more of a mess, but you clearly underestimated him.

“What’s up? Wait why are you not with-“ even high he easily interpreted your panicked glare as a sign to shut up. You didn’t want to bring this topic up in front of Hyunjin yet again for the second time tonight, although since he was in the room as well you also couldn’t very well explain to Chan what had happened. Your mind was rattling with ways to come up with an explanation that would be so nondescript it wouldn’t give away your predicament, but it wasn’t necessary, because Chan caught up scarily fast, sending a quick glance towards Hyunjin before focusing back on you.

“You wanna go home?” You did, but Chan was halfway to getting up and there was no way you’d let him make such a phenomenal mistake and drive in this state just so you’d feel better.

“It’s fine Chan, don’t worry. I’ll just call an Uber or something,” you smiled softly to reassure him. “I can probably find someone to drop me off at campus and walk the res-“

“I can take her, you’re not driving tonight anyways Chan,” Hyunjin interrupted, a statement that didn’t leave any room for protest. It didn’t, at least, for Chan, who spoke up before you could decline.

“That’s a fantastic idea!” His enthusiasm was almost worrying, as was the speed with which he was throwing his car keys in Hyunjin’s direction, who caught them easily. The grin on Chan’s face was clearly meant to be conspiratory but he was anything but subtle and you were questioning who he was even directing it to, because you were definitely not on board with this plan of his to reconcile the two of you. 

You were still scrambling for an excuse they would let slide but Hyunjin was already in front of you with the keys lazily dangling from one finger. It was only then it filtered through that he, too, was completely sober, just as you were.

“Alright. Let’s go home,” you admitted with a defeated sigh, hoping that all the horrible scenarios you were already making up in your head wouldn’t be coming true. Hyunjin did seem civil and calm, if not almost like the Hyunjin you knew, but it wasn’t enough to make you forgive and forget all the instances he had shown a whole different side of him and never apologized for it.

You were almost grateful he didn’t put his hand on the small of your back when he led you through the crowds of dancing and drunk people as he usually would have, because you weren’t sure you could have handled it.

The car ride was by far one of the worst ones you had ever experienced, which said a lot considering you had thought the same thing earlier tonight yet were already proven wrong.  Earlier had been awkward and uncomfortable but at least Chaeryoung and Chan had been there. Now it was only Hyunjin with you in the passenger seat next to him, the silence spanning so awkwardly and tensely it felt almost tangible. You couldn’t shake the underlying feeling that, just like you, Hyunjin was itching to say something yet for some reason the words wouldn’t come. While you could usually read him you hadn’t been able to do that in weeks. You couldn’t fathom why he wasn’t talking. He didn’t seem like he wanted another confrontation, but you also knew that kind words or apologies took far more bravery, something you yourself currently couldn’t muster either.

You’d never been so glad to see your dorm building when Hyunjin finally parked the car. You mumbled a quick ‘thank you’ for driving you home before you almost fled from the car, thinking that you had finally evaded that awfully tense mood between the two of you. You were proven wrong when you heard another car door fall shut behind you, Hyunjin’s steps unmistakably hurrying after you. You squeezed your eyes shut shortly, taking a deep breath to brace yourself before you halted and turned around to face him. He looked so devastatingly beautiful with his long hair, smoky eyes and the smooth skin of his stomach visible. It hurt all the more because of the situation you were in and you wanted him to leave, certain that you couldn’t handle this.

“You can’t park here,” you stated dismissively, nodding towards where he’d left Chan’s car.

“I don’t care,” he huffed, but you thought that he couldn’t possibly be worked up from running a few steps after you, so it had to be something else. “If I don’t do this now it might never happen.”

You knew, of course, what he meant with ‘this’. The talk that was long overdue. What you didn’t know was what he was going to say, and if what he would say would make it worse. But you couldn’t just shut him down, not when you still wanted him back in your life. You terribly missed him and even you weren’t self-sabotaging enough to interfere with something that could possibly fix this. You did turn around and start walking again, guessing that if he wanted this talk he’d follow, and if he didn’t… you didn’t want to go there, even just hypothetically.

You could hear his footsteps distinctly behind you although he wasn’t talking until you were already walking up the staircase to your dorm.

“Why aren’t you with Seonghwa?”

You almost stumbled, ready to explode but the rational part of your brain that was thankfully still working told you that unlike the last couple of times, there was no maliciousness in his tone. You tried to calm yourself with a few deep breaths before answering.

“Would you like me to be?” You almost managed not to sound snappy.

“What do you think?” his answer came almost immediately, but you weren’t having it. He wanted to talk, so he would talk.

“No, Hyunjin, that’s not how this goes.”

He fell silent again and this time you weren’t sure if he’d lost his resolve. He still didn’t talk when you’d reached your door and unlocked it, stopping in the doorframe indecisively. Your hopes of finally fixing this were dwindling fast, but you weren’t planning on letting him in if this was all you would get. You should have just left, but one look at his eyes, incredibly sad, were enough for you to find yourself talking instead.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but Hwa told me to get my head clear and talk to you truthfully. Which is good advice for the both of us, I think. Except we barely even talk anymore, so why did I think that would work?”

You didn’t really expect an answer, even though you knew you were desperately hoping for one. Neither did you leave, even though Hyunjin wasn’t saying anything and you felt an empty pit in your stomach open up. You didn’t know what else to say, and you wanted to leave him there but doing so hurt you probably as much as him, if not more, so you found yourself rooted to the spot despite better judgement. When you couldn’t take it anymore it was you who spoke again, and you were surprised to hear yourself sob when the words finally tumbled over your lips.

“Hyunjin, what happened to us?”

“I don’t know.” This time the answer came immediately, although meek and silent and barely a mumble, and it made you find your resolve again at last.

“You know damn well. You shouldn’t have fingered me on a park bench because you were horny, called me a box to tick on your bucket list and then pretended it didn’t happen.”

“I’m such an idiot.” He sounded thoroughly regretful, but you weren’t done yet now that you’d started.

“Yes, you are. You ruined our friendship because you tried pretending that mistake we made didn’t happen. I was ready to face that but you made me believe you don’t fucking remember.” Technically he had never told you if he had been lying and did remember after all, but by now you were certain even without that confirmation. Him not denying it was as good as one.

“And instead of owning up to it you turn into someone I barely even recognize, hurting me with petty words whenever you, I don’t even know, get jealous? Instead of just talking to me?!”

You were fuming and hurting and you felt wetness coating your cheeks now. The sight of Hyunjin before you would have broken your heart if he hadn’t already done that. He looked as miserable as you felt, hands clenched by his sides, his eyes portraying the same pain you had gone through for the last weeks.

“I thought I’d ruin our friendship if I told you I liked you.”

“So instead you fingered me to get it out of your system? Is that what that was?”

You had heard his confession loud and clear in the quiet hallways, despite his mumbling, but you couldn’t focus on it right now. Chan had been right, Seonghwa had been right, seemingly everyone but you had seemed to know and been correct in their assumptions. But what good did that do when him liking you meant him hurting you?

“I was scared! It would be awkward for you to have a friend be in love with you. You like guys like Yugyeom, or Jaehyun or Hwa-“ he didn’t quite manage to keep the venom out of his voice at the last one “-not me! I was scared out of my mind you would reject me and I’d lose you. But I was drunk that night, and you kept talking about other guys and I realized that eventually I’d lose you to one of them. I couldn’t bear the thought. I shouldn’t have kissed you, but you kissed me back and I thought if that’s all I can have then I’ll take it.”

Hyunjin was talking almost too fast to follow at this point, but for you every single word still felt like forever. It sounded too familiar, too much of a mirror of your own thoughts and feelings. Both of you thinking rushed, drunken kisses were all you could ever have. Both of you dreading the moment the other would be happy with someone else.

“I immediately regretted it. It’s not what I want from you. No, hold on, of course it’s what I want from you. But not like that. I want to hold you after and tell you that I think you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. God, you’re always so beautiful. I think… I think in a way losing you now showed me that I couldn’t take it.” He hesitated for a moment, stepping one step closer only to hastily move away again as if he barely could hold himself back. “I’m so sorry. I’m gonna leave. I’m- I’m so sorry I hurt you and said all those things to you. You deserve better than as shit of a friend as I have been.”

You were sobbing uncontrolled now, tears filling your eyes so much it was difficult to keep looking at Hyunjin with how much your vision was swimming. You realized he was misunderstanding your reaction because he was clearly as clueless as you and he didn’t understand that you were melting in every way possible because of his words, so you pulled him in, hands clenched in his shirt, face buried in his chest and thankful he immediately reciprocated the hug without hesitation, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you tight.

“Hyunjin, I’ve been in love with you for the past three years,” you finally confessed, the words finally breaking free after having been caged in for so long. Your voice was suffocated by his shirt but you were sure he’d heard you just fine because he stiffened, fingers digging into your back.

“Can you say that again?” his voice was shaky and you giggled through your sobs, leaning back a bit with newfound confidence to look at him.

“I’m in love with you,” you’d thought those words so many times, but you never expected to be saying them to Hyunjin, especially not without feeling any fear of rejection.

“I- I think I should come in,” Hyunjin stuttered, disbelief flooding his voice but he was automatically stepping closer again, the softest smile on his face while his thumb gently wiped over your cheek, smudging the tears more than anything. You agreed, stepping back and finally letting him in. You closed the door after him carefully, discreetly wiping at your tears because you suddenly felt a bit embarrassed at how much his words had made you cry. He didn’t settle down anywhere, even though he’d been here a thousand times and usually made himself at home easily, so you rounded him and sat on the couch, hoping he’d follow your lead. You pulled your knees in and although he sat down in a safe distance, no part of him touching you, it was more of a tentative distance like your confessions were too fresh to quite believe them yet.

“Why did you always try and set me up with other girls?” he finally asked, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I never saw you hook-up with anyone and I just wanted you to be happy, even if it wasn’t with me.”

“Every time you did that I was even more certain you’d never want me,” he spoke with a desperate frustration that would have been funny if you didn’t realize just how much you had been sabotaging yourself over the years. You had had good intentions, but you’d only accidentally been pushing him away. “Didn’t it hurt to see me with Chaeyoung? Because it sure as hell hurt to see you with Seonghwa.”

“Yeah, I almost didn’t notice,” you couldn’t help put supply sarcastically, not angry at him anymore for his stupid jealous behavior.

“Look, I’m so fucking sorry I behaved like an idiot.” You nodded in agreement, although you were smiling at him softly.

“Of course it hurt. But I told myself it’s what would help me get over you.”

“Did it help?”

“Hyunjin, if I knew how to get over you don’t you think I’d done that in the last three years?”

He looked at you for a moment, biting his lip and you could see he was contemplating something. It became clear when his eyes dropped to your lips for just the fraction of a second, but long enough for you to notice.

“Please just kiss me, I know you’re thinking about it.”

His hands were on your cheeks in a heartbeat, lips pressed against yours without hesitation, the distance between you forgotten.

“It’s all I can think about,” his words were mumbled into your kiss and you felt them as much as you heard them. Even though he was kissing you softly there was an urgency to it that resonated in how you were gripping onto his shirt, as if you both had been craving each other so desperately that you were scared of ever letting go again. 

Your soft kisses turned hungry the second his teeth grazed your lower lip, your hands clenching and pulling him closer. You were utterly overwhelmed, your head swimming but you never wanted to stop kissing him again. His teeth and tongue were caressing your lips until you were panting softly and he used the moment to slip his tongue into your mouth, finally deepening the kiss.

You almost moaned, the kiss so much more intense than it had been the last time because you both knew you had been fantasizing about this for too long. His hands, initially caressing your cheeks, slipped down to your neck and into your hair. The feeling had you shaking with anticipation and you tangled your own fingers through his hair. You pulled a little, just to see the reaction you could elicit, and when he groaned you completely disregarded holding back. The sound was sweet like honey washing down your body and you pulled your leg over his lap. His hands immediately grabbed onto your thighs and you yelped when he lifted you up with him, stumbling a little.

“Bedroom,” he stated, his voice a bit breathless and you could only nod, a husky and surprisingly needy ‘yes’ drowned out when he leant in to peck your lips again. He knew the way to your bedroom by heart, settling down on your bed a bit clumsily while pulling you on his lap again immediately. Wiggling a little to readjust your thighs on either side of his you relished in his reaction, a subtle shiver washing over his body. You moved your hips again, more purposely this time, grinding yourself down on his crotch in a slow rhythm. You could tell he was holding back by the way his knuckles pressed into the bedsheets turned white from clenching so hard. It only urged you on, your hands resting on his shoulders for stability while you pressed your thighs tighter, rolling your hips against him so closely you could feel him twitch inside his pants against your center. For a short moment you contemplated making him come just like that because watching his reactions you were sure you could, but Hyunjin stopped you, his hands settling on your hips when he finally managed to pull his thoughts together.

To your disappointment he readjusted you on his lap, moving you away from the hard bulge in his pants. You were pouting and he must have noticed because he chuckled, biting his plush bottom lip and moving some of the blonde strands already sticking to his forehead off his skin with one hand.

“Bunny, I’ve fantasized about sleeping with you so many times. I can’t come in my pants now.”

His words turned your pout into a giggle immediately, a hand dropping to his crotch and palming his bulge just enough to get a reaction out of him, his head falling back and focus lost again temporarily. His groans were the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard and you pushed him a little further, causing his self-restraint to crumble. Just the way your hands felt on him even through his pants was too much after he had dreamed about feeling you, having you touch him, so many times.

“Fuck. Fuck- you gotta stop, please,” his voice was somewhere between a groan and a whimper and you palmed him once more, not wanting to stop touching him before you gave in and stopping teasing, letting him catch his breath until he was looking at you again.

His eyes were flitting from your face to your body and back, as if he didn’t know which part of you to look at and it sent warm tingles all over your skin. His eyes were holding so much appreciation and warmth despite the fact that he was painfully hard, and you could tell he wanted to draw this out and savor every second he could finally have you on his lap and needy for him.

Even though you stopped touching him you couldn’t entirely stop teasing him. Grabbing onto the hem of your shirt you swiftly pulled it off, his gaze going to your chest immediately, still covered in a black bra.

His lip was pulled between his teeth again and you decided to push a step further, unclasping the bra and letting it slip off your arms and land on the floor.

The whimper falling over Hyunjin’s lips was divine. The hand still on your thighs was clenching, digging his fingers into your skin hard to resist the urge of ravishing you without holding back. You were driving him crazy with everything you did. The way you knew exactly how much you were testing his self-restraint, undressing on his lap, topless and nipples hard.

And as much as you loved his reactions, seeing how much you were affecting him even though you were barely doing anything, you could feel how wet you were and you were dying to have him touch you and fuck you into the mattress until your throat was raw from screaming his name.

You leant in, lips ghosting over his neck, hoping that your words would finally push him over the edge and kill his self-control.

“You can touch me, Hyunjin.” His name was a raspy breath on your lips, washing over his skin and his fingers clenched once more on your thigh before he was palming your tits. You bit down on his neck, his fingers pinching your nipple and eliciting a deliciously painful sensation. He clearly noticed, repeating the motion, teasing your hard nipples and caressing you until you were holding onto his shoulders again, arching into his hands, the kisses on his neck faltering.

“Hyunjin, you don’t need to hold back for my sake,” you whined, pushing him further, your voice not much above a whisper because you were so desperate to feel him. “You can do whatever you want to me. I trust you.”

The moment you said the words you realized it was true. You trusted him more than you had realized despite everything that had happened between you the last weeks. It was worth finally knowing that he ached as much for you as you had for him.

His reaction to your words wasn’t immediate. Instead he stilled for a second and or the shortest moment you were worried you might have done something wrong or overstepped some unknown line, but then his hand wrapped into the strands of your hair falling over your neck and Hyunjin pulled hard.

You gasped in surprise, the sting running straight to your center and causing your hips to buck, your neck bared to Hyunjin. But he completely ignored it, instead going straight to biting down your chest and finally sucking on your nipple. At the feeling of his lips wrapped around your perked nipple, tongue flicking over it, your brain shut down. A loud, raspy curse fell over your lips and it was the reaction that finally broke Hyunjin and made him throw all restraint away. The need to have you moan his name with his dick inside you was too overwhelming to draw this out, even if he planned to savor every moment as much as possible.

His hand ran up your thigh, diving under your skirt without hesitation and dropping to your wet panties, moving them aside easily. You didn’t have time to process what was going on before he had his fingers running up your slit and between your folds, coating them in your wetness enough so he wouldn’t hurt you, before he slipped both fingers into you.

It didn’t compare to last time, not by far. Either times you could feel he wanted you, but this time he was finger fucking you with the knowledge that you want him, you were wet for him and only for him and you trusted him. It made the curl of his fingers against your walls all the more delicious, wrecking your throat with moans.

“Open my pants,” he was barely forming a full sentence, focused on the way he was shoving his fingers deep inside you to feel you clench around him. “Need to be inside you.”

The words ran straight down between your legs and to his fingers pressing into you.

“Fuck, okay.” You weren’t sure if you were actually nodding or not, your fingers shaking when they settled on his belt, but you couldn’t manage much beyond fumbling with the buckle, fingers too weak and shaking too much to open it. You couldn’t concentrate on anything but the way he was fucking you open with his fingers, giving up after another clumsy attempt and slumping against Hyunjin instead. Your face was buried in his neck and when he pushed into you and spread his fingers you all but forgot anything but fucking yourself deeper onto his fingers. He met the movement of your hips, allowing you to pick the pace until you were a mess, his name etched into his skin with your voice repeatedly moaning it. 

“Bunny, can you ride me, or do you want me on top?”

“Top,” you gasped out, clambering off of Hyunjin’s lap while he was slipping his fingers out of you. “Want you to fuck me.”

“God, you’re killing me,” Hyunjin cursed while fumbling a little himself to pull off his pants and underwear. You would have been glad about the payback of him struggling to get out of those tight pants after he’d tortured you with his looks all night, but right now you desperately wanted him, too much to care about any petty feelings.

He was already gripping the hem of that cursed top, eyes fully focused on you kneeling on your bed, and when he stilled you knew he caught on to how you were biting your lip to hold yourself back from saying something.

“Want me to keep this on?” His tone was way too cocky for how hard his dick was and how rattled he already looked, but somehow he still managed. You were still biting down on your lip, unwilling to admit just how much you liked that shirt on him but it wasn’t necessary. “Yeah, you do,” Hyunjin supplied instead with an impossibly cocky smirk, crawling up to you on your bed, surprising you when he gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, a stark contrast to how confidently he had been teasing you just a moment ago.

“Knew I could drive you crazy showing up in this shirt.”

And it was true, but it wasn’t even half the truth.

“Hyunjin, you always drive me crazy.” It wasn’t the words you had expected to come out of your mouth but it was true and you realized you liked telling him those things. Now that there was nothing to be scared of you wanted him to know just how much you liked him, just how much he was on your mind.

He didn’t respond, instead pushing you back onto the mattress and kissing you so deeply it left no doubt he felt just the same way.

The kiss was a tangle of tongue and teeth, biting on your lips and your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist to pull him closer. Hyunjin’s own hand was on your waist to support you, and you could feel his length against your center. He was so incredibly close to slipping inside you, anticipation building in your stomach like liquid fire. You bucked your hips impatiently, causing him to moan into the kiss.

“Shit I don’t have a condom?” Hyunjin breathed, the words barely strung together, lips not separating from yours by more than a breath. “You okay with-“

“God, yes please.”

You knew you shouldn’t be doing this even though you were on birth control, but you wanted Hyunjin so much all your rational thoughts seemed to shut down around him.

It didn’t seem to be going much better for him either, because you had barely said the words when he finally pushed inside you. You were so wet it didn’t hurt at all, and he was stretching you just the right way, not quite painful but filling you up perfectly. Your hand was tangled in his hair, nails digging into his scalp slightly when he was fully settled inside you. He wasn’t moving, and through the haze in your mind you thought he was waiting for your okay until you looked at him and realized he wasn’t even focused on you, his eyes closed and shorter strands of hair falling in front of his face.

“Hyunjin,” you breathed, rolling your hips in emphasis because you desperately wanted him to move. He inhaled sharply, fingers on your hips digging into your skin.

“Hold on – wait. You feel so fucking good. I’ve been waiting for this for so long.”

You couldn’t stop the giggle from slipping over your lips at the confession. Even with his dick inside you he managed to made your stomach flutter.

You gently slipped your hand from his hair, caressing his cheek and tucking the loose, sweaty strands of hair behind his ear.

“Take your time baby,” you softly spoke, the pet name flowing naturally, and you felt him shiver softly under your hands in response. “You already make me feel good like this.”

And you meant that, but the reassurance seemed to be enough because the next thing you knew was your nails digging into his shoulder blades when he almost bottomed out only to push back deep inside you. The gentleness from a second ago all but dissipated and when you’d told him you already felt good you hadn’t been prepared for just how good he could make you feel.

Hyunjin was leaning on his arms next to your head, lips ghosting down your neck, pushing into you at a relentless rhythm. You were trying to match his thrusts but he was fucking into you so good, hitting a spot that made the muscles in your legs contract.

You gave up after a couple more thrust, melting into the mattress instead, clutching onto Hyunjin with weak arms while he kept hitting that sweet spot perfectly with every push into you.

Hyunjin, ever the vocal person, kept gasping your name, slipping in praises matched with his thrusts and you couldn’t do much beyond reveling in the feeling of him fucking you into the mattress so well your whole body felt like it was on fire. Warmth was tingling all over your skin and you couldn’t even gather the words to tell him how well he was fucking you, how close you were.

But he could tell by the way you were gasping, moans swallowed by how breathless you were, clenching around his dick every time he rutted into you until he was struggling to hold back his own orgasm. His hand slipped between you, finger drawing soft circles on your clit and it was enough to finally topple you over the edge and have you see stars.

“Baby I’m gonna- fuck-“ your words turned into whimpers when your orgasm washed over you, skin tingling all over and blood rushing in your ears.

“’M gonna pull out-“ Hyunjin started and you were sure your nails were leaving marks by how hard you held him back in response, keeping his body pressed up against yours, nipples rubbing against his shirt with delicious friction.

“No, please come inside, wanna feel you come inside me,” you were whining, the sound foreign to your own ears but it was enough to convince Hyunjin, whose groan next to your ear was enough to send another wave of shivers racking down your body. You could barely register the unsteady rhythm he picked up again, dick twitching inside you when you felt yourself clench around him again, waves of your orgasm running through your body and finally pulling him over with you. You felt his warm cum spill inside you, his face pressing into your skin, a loud moan etched into your skin, followed by a string of praise. Hyunjin was telling you how good you felt, how much he loved fucking you, punctuated by uneven thrusts carrying him through his orgasm.

You didn’t know how long it took until you could gather any coherent thought again. Your skin was covered in a sheen of sweat, Hyunjin slumped on top of you with his face still buried in your neck and breathing hard. He was still inside you, his length gone soft and you knew if he pulled out you’d be making a mess of your bedsheets but you couldn’t bring yourself to regret having him come inside you, not when you had never felt more satisfied and thoroughly fucked out.

“Promise you’ll ride me next time, bunny?” Hyunjin almost purred against your skin, still out of breath but his hands were already drawing soft patterns on your chest, small kisses pressed against your neck.

“You’ve been thinking about that a lot, haven’t you?” you giggled, trying to suppress a shiver when his thumb brushed your nipple. “I can’t make promises if you make me this weak every time, Hyunjin. I feel like my legs are jelly.”

“Mh, did I fuck you that well?” Despite his crude words his tone was soft and teasing and you could tell by his tone that he was smiling. It made the butterflies in your stomach flutter yet again, and it seemed like they hadn’t calmed down ever since Hyunjin had confessed his feelings earlier. “I didn’t even try, I wonder what would happen if I did?”

When he pulled out of you you were almost embarrassed by the whimper escaping your mouth. You were still way too sensitive, and the feeling of his soft dick slipping out of you, followed by his cum was almost too much to take.

Your hands slipped off his back when he moved up to his knees, readjusting his position so he could run his lips down your collarbones and chest. Realizing where this was going when his hair was tickling your stomach and his hand trailed down to the inside of your thigh, that point already so sensitive you felt an involuntary shiver run through you, you quickly carded your hand through his hair to stop him.

“Hyunjin I don’t think I can-“ He stopped you with a wolfish grin, his fingers wandering from your thigh to your center, ghosting over it so softly he was barely touching you, but even that was already too much. “Fuck, Hyunjin, I’m so sensitive.”

“Want me to stop?” Despite his intentions concern laced through his voice and you knew he would stop if you said so right now. You didn’t say anything, just weakly shook your head while you felt his grin ghost over your skin, down your stomach until his teeth grazed your inner thighs, a hard shudder raking over your body. You knew you wouldn’t be able to take much but you wanted this so bad, didn’t want to let go of Hyunjin, for him to stop treating you as if you were the most precious thing on earth to him.

When he finally licked a soft stripe along your center, tasting himself and you mixed from your orgasms you almost thought you would black out. You were dizzy from your first orgasm, breath already raspy and Hyunjin’s lips and tongue were almost too much. He made sure not to run his tongue over your clit, careful not to send you in overdrive already. Instead, he resorted to soft kitten licks that only mixed his saliva with the mess he had already left between your legs and made you clench around nothing. His fingers were caressing your thighs, holding you in place just enough so you couldn’t clamp your legs shut.

You were gasping, struggling to keep up because all you could feel was the tingling sensations Hyunjin was sending all over your body with his tongue. You vaguely registered that you were whimpering, small little sounds that mixed with his name and your nails were digging into the bedsheets.

You weren’t even sure you could come again already, not when you felt too sensitive to handle Hyunjin’s tongue between your legs, but you were proven wrong when he finally let his mouth run up to your clit.

“Ohmygod I-“ you couldn’t finish the sentence properly, not sure where you would have gone with it either way, because Hyunjin’s lips were wrapped around your clit and he was sucking and you were seeing stars and you couldn’t hear how he was praising you over your desperate gasps.

It took a while before you realized Hyunjin was splattering your neck and chest with soft kisses, meant to caress and help you calm down until you weren’t shaking anymore, his hands lazily wrapped around your waist.

“You good?” he finally asked with a sweet smile when your gaze was finally focused on him, but you could tell by the glint in his eyes that he knew just fine that you were more than good thanks to him.

You took a moment to let your eyes run over him and take in every detail, the loose strands of black hair fluttering into his face and sticking to his forehead. His eyes, sparkling with admiration that made your heart melt. The beauty mark under his eye, his softly sloped nose. His lips, swollen and glistening wetly, pulled into a smile that was so much Hyunjin that you couldn’t stop yourself from leaning in and pressing a light kiss to his mouth.

“What do you think?” you mused in response finally, pressing another quick peck to his lips, a smile gracing yours when he whined when you pulled away.

You thought that you could stay like this with him forever, just Hyunjin and you together, so clearly head over heels for each other that you didn’t understand how both of you hadn’t seen it sooner. But the moment was broken up when the front door banged open so unceremoniously you could almost feel the dent in the wall, and your name was shouted through the dorm room way louder than it should be in the middle of the night.

“Shit,” you cursed under your breath, scrambling out from under Hyunjin, grasping for something to pull on and settling on his shirt because it was the first thing you could grab that would cover not just your chest but the entirety of the sticky mess he had left between your legs. Not that covering it up would discard any doubt of what you had just done. It was still highly uncomfortable and you were pulling down the shirt over your legs as far as it would go from where you were sitting, while Hyunjin was desperately trying to put on his underwear without falling and breaking his neck. He looked even worse than you probably, everything from his hair to his lips giving away that he’d just had sex, if him only being in his underwear wouldn’t have already done so. But there was no time to fix anything else before Chaeryoung, followed by Felix, Seungmin and Chan burst into your room, all of them cramming in together. Both Chaeryoung and Chan were very clearly coming straight from the party, one drunk and the other still very stoned, but Felix and Seungmin had clearly come to pick them up. They were completely sober and thus assessed the situation in front of them way faster than the other two.

Felix had the decency to at least blush, although he still didn’t hold back the grin sneaking on his face. Seungmin, much worse, fished money out of his pocket and casually handed it to Chan.

“Bro, I told you I’m not betting on this!” the other replied, his whole reaction lacking gravity because he was just ridiculously calm even though his words sounded like he would have protested stronger under different circumstances.

Seungmin just shrugged and pocketed his money again, but you didn’t have time to dwell on the fact that he had clearly wanted to bet on whether you were sleeping with Hyunjin or not, because Chaeryoung finally showed her very belated reaction by simply screeching at a volume that was nothing but irritating and could be interpreted in many ways. It almost drowned out the beeping of Seungmin’s phone, who nonchalantly turned the screen towards you and Hyunjin so you could see the messages in the group chat.

“Can’t believe you two were even worse than Jisung and Karaoke Girl. Jeongin says ‘fucking finally’ by the way.”

You didn’t need to read the messages to know that everyone in your group knew about you and Hyunjin before you yourself had even properly processed the entire night, but it was just as well. You had already been annoyingly touchy before, and this way at least they had time to prepare for the fact that there was no way you would keep your hands off each other ever again now.

[vinelark]

6 for the ask meme 😎

6. Have you written any fanfictions featuring OCs? If so, elaborate!

oh? is it time? is it time to drop the OCBFEU primer??

in short: yes, last year my friends came up with a whole "what if we invented a boyfriend for jason" "what if we also invented a boyfriend for dick in the same continuity" batfam AU with two (and a half) significant OCs. we write little informal fics for each other about them and my incredibly talented friends draw them and we also have an extended fantasy AU of the boyfriend AU that could fill about three TV seasons of plot so far. i love them. they are constantly rotating in the back of my mind; it's a fun time.

months ago we compiled a document with bios and a rough OC bf timeline (with bonus timkon) and: here it is! (content warning for a (past) emotionally manipulative relationship. also some brief underage drinking.)

Batfamily OCBFEU (OC Boyfriend Extended Universe)

Santi

jason’s OC boyfriend; ship name sanjay

[original santi post] [mammutblog’s santi art tag] [90kon’s santi art tag]

santi, short for santiago

5’7”; has to go up on his tiptoes to kiss jason

line cook by day, taking classes toward his teaching certification by night, also volunteers at an after-school literacy program in park row

gothamite through & through—grew up a few blocks over from jason, though their paths never crossed. has two siblings, an older sister and a younger brother, but is mostly estranged from them after their dad died. money was incredibly tight after that and santi still took odd jobs—including some for the falcones—to help his sister finish med school.

an old soul like jason, aka he’ll use his same phone til it’s a brick and does not understand tiktok despite kids at the program explaining it to him over and over

there’s probably a mildly popular tiktok series one of the kids has of them asking santi questions while santi is in the middle of something at the program, because everyone loves santi and he gives funny answers when he’s distracted

santi does not become a vigilante—he has enough on his plate, he’s (almost) a teacher—but he’s certainly not without his own set of skills. also he talks a very good game and can usually get by without having to physically fight (see: confrontation with nick in the below timeline)

Blue

dick’s OC boyfriend; ship name bluebird

[original blue post] [other original blue post]

ex-talon from an alternate reality

6’5” 😳

in his original universe blue was taken as a child and turned into a talon (in this version talons have boosted strength/healing, and were conditioned/brainwashed into carrying out the court of owls’ assassinations. also golden eyes) and doesn’t remember his name anymore. once he tumbled into this universe after an assignment gone wrong, he was free of the court’s orders and re-education for the first time and started slowly unraveling their mental conditioning

he rarely speaks, and takes a while to consider his words when he does. when he texts it’s mostly emojis because he prefers them

when left to his own devices he’s very gentle and likes to bake

he had short/shaved hair as a talon. once he’s in this world he starts growing it out and prefers it long

he eventually makes an excellent crime-fighting partner for dick; he knows and understands dick’s skills enough to trust him to take care of himself, so they work very well together. that said, if you really hurt nightwing you will be reminded very quickly that blue spent most of his life as a nearly unbeatable assassin.

he eventually takes up the superhero name flamebird to go with nightwing

Nick

tim’s OC ex-boyfriend; no ship name we hate nick

nick is a GU college freshman (18 at the time) tim meets playing tennis at the local rec center while tim is avoiding the manor in the early red hood reconciliation days

at first nick definitely plays into the fact that tim desperately craves attention at this point in his life. nick is at turns overwhelmingly nice and startlingly cold, and more and more often “playfully” mocks tim, dismisses his thoughts because he’s “young” (16 at the time), etc. nick is, essentially, a jerk who, despite—or perhaps due to—being a teenager himself, does everything he can to feel superior to tim.

nick also drags tim along to parties/hangouts with his college friends so he can show off that he’s dating tim drake-wayne. other than late-night parties with his friends, though, he insists on keeping their relationship a secret.

none of the bats know about this as it’s happening; tim eventually breaks it off and pretends it never happened.

rough OCBFEU timeline

jason and santi meet while jason is still sort of on the outs with the family but not in Revenge Mode anymore. first jason meets santi as red hood, and later realizes his main apartment/civilian ID lives in the same building as santi when they run into each other in the elevator.

sanjay identity shenanigans ensue! santi is very taken with red hood. santi thinks his upstairs neighbor “uhh, call me jay” is an inconsiderate dickhead for seemingly working out/moving furniture around at 3am sometimes. seriously, how many muscles does someone need. that’s ridiculous. santi also thinks jay has a very nice smile but that’s irrelevant.

meanwhile tim meets nick at rec center and they date for a few months. it’s not a great time for tim and he eventually breaks it off.

santi starts seeing red hood more because red hood will just. appear and shadow santi when he’s walking home from work late, and helps santi out of a tight spot with some of falcone’s men at one point (we learn santi used to work for falcone a few years ago; he needed the money to put his older sister through med school. santi’s not involved with the mob anymore but the past dogs his heels sometimes). santi and red hood start hooking up, though hood still won’t show his face.

santi volunteers at an after-school literacy program (while taking night classes working toward a teaching certification). one day santi’s neighbor jay shows up to the bake sale fundraising for the after-school program, and they have a cute interaction until there’s a surprise rogue attack and the school goes on lockdown. jay disappears; red hood shows up minutes later, helping santi secure the kids before going after the rogue. red hood gets hurt and in the aftermath santi, patching him up, pieces together that red hood is his neighbor jay.

shortly after this santi gets kidnapped in public along with a random teenager (tim drake) who happened to intervene and get himself kidnapped too. the kidnappers saw santi and hood together after the rogue attack, so they’re trying to get information on hood out of santi. tim runs interference as best he can and takes a few hits as a distraction, and soon enough red hood shows up to dispatch the kidnappers. in the aftermath red hood is cold and snappish to tim (jason thinks tim was stalking santi) (to be fair, tim was) and this leads to santi learning a bit more about jason’s family. this also leads to jason breaking up with santi because it’s too dangerous (for santi) to associate with him.

santi does not agree with this decision, and there’s a lot of pining and angsting until they get their shit together over the course of another few months. coincidentally jason is reconciling with his family in the meanwhile and getting his feet under him emotionally.

once they’re together jason and santi are like. incredibly domestic. totally in rhythm with each other. somehow jason now has the healthiest most settled relationship of any bat.

meanwhile in blüdhaven, blue pops in from an alternate reality where the court of owls rules gotham. blue was taken as a child and turned into a talon; when he’s thrown into this universe, he’s free from the owls’ control for the first time. it’s a rough landing—he ends up being fished out of a dumpster by dick and even though blue runs away, he imprints hard on one dick grayson.

Tim (18 now) realizes his longtime crush on kon might be reciprocated; cue panicking.

tim lies his way into a gay club to Research (because nick always kind of mocked tim for not having dated any guys before him; tim thinks he will have one shot to not disappoint kon so he has to figure shit out). gets drunk, starts making out with someone who is not uhh handling him gently. gets spotted by jason and santi, who are there on what was supposed to be a fun date, and they intervene. at first jason is annoyed, thinking tim’s following him again, and then realizes something is Wrong. he and santi dispatch the asshole other guy, and they bring drunk tim back to crash on jason’s couch.

the next morning tim is hungover at jason’s and mortified. santi makes him sit and eat breakfast and tim is like i’m sorry, i wasn’t even following you guys this time, i swear. which leads to tim haltingly explaining the nick thing. santi and jason (who is lurking in the kitchen listening to this convo) don’t know who this ex guy is yet but they’re gonna kill him ❤️

tim’s net gain for this ill-fated excursion: one (1) splitting headache and one (1) new older brother unit.

meanwhile back in blüdhaven blue is slowly un-conditioning himself, keeping to the shadows, and leaving little gifts on dick’s windowsill. the gifts are like, keychains, a lost earring, a random postcard. all tend to be blue or have blue in them, so dick starts nicknaming this mysterious gift-giver blue.

during patrol a week later jason finds tim on a rooftop and has an awkward but earnest talk with tim about uhh. consent and healthy relationships and stuff okay yeah we’re never talking about this again but also if you ever need anything. call me right away or i’ll kill you. okay good talk.

blue gets invited inside dick’s apartment for the first time. god bless bluebird they’re in their own little world over here.

tim and kon kiss 😳

an anonymous, “scandalous” tabloid story from someone claiming to have dated tim drake-wayne drops. resulting fallout, salacious rumors abound about tim + the waynes, etc. also, obviously, bruce and the family find out about nick. jason and santi figure out who nick is and separately visit him to put the fear of god in him.

nick: what the fuck, are you with the guy from earlier? i got the message! tell that guy i’m moving to star city this fucking weekend!

red hood: what guy

nick: you know the, the guy with the earring and the tattoo and he said if i didn’t lose tim’s number and leave town i’d have an accident

red hood: huh. no, not related. so you never made a deal with me. bummer for you, i still get to break one of your arms.

(jason obviously realizes the other guy was santi so he goes home and climbs into bed where santi’s awake reading and he’s like “productive night?” and jason’s like “mmhm, and i heard you had a productive day” and santi shrugs and then jason kisses the hell out of him)

over in blüdhaven blue witnesses dick get really upset over something (this article) for the first time. dick says “i’m going to be away for a few days but you can stay here while i’m gone, okay?” (when dick returns blue isn’t there but dick’s apartment has been deep-cleaned) (this leads to dick insisting blue stay there more and more until they accidentally end up as roommates)

batfamily deals with the nick aftermath and much-needed convos are had with tim. this also brings santi more into the family fold because everyone approves of him essentially making nick shit his pants.

bruce, up to this point, has been kind of wary of santi solely because santi is NOT immediately impressed with bruce. santi sees bruce as being on thin ice until he gets proof that bruce is in fact doing his best as a parent and then they have a slightly more chill dynamic.

meanwhile in gotham, mid family crisis, dick is having his own crisis/rooftop breakdown with tim and jason about having feelings for blue and going through his gay awakening at the ripe age of 20something and jason is very upset that he has somehow become the to-go gay relationship advice sibling.

because yeah, between dick and jason, JASON’s relationship is the more normal/aspirational one for tim looking for like queer mentors. bluebird is great and perfect for them obviously but they are not a blueprint for anyone else.

dick: [sitting on blue’s shoulder after describing how blue wooed him with random tchotchkes on his windowsill and then moved into a corner of his living room for a month and—] anyway do as i say not as i do

dick literally let a secret organization-trained slightly undead assassin into his house for fun bc he got like a few cool rocks as a gift

if tim asked dick for advice dick would be like “oh shit you like-like him? i just thought you were really touchy friends”

no one should ask bruce for advice, ever

so here jason is, somehow the most stable gay of the family

by the time damian appears with his first crush jason is like [sighs] [gets out the powerpoint]

timkon officially get together!

aaaand then months later dick shows up to family dinner with a giant ex-talon in tow like “heyyyyy guys, so guess what—”

there are also plenty of fun post-timeline adventures like “blue and santi get kidnapped together to target nightwing and red hood; kidnappers regret this almost immediately” and “tim takes blue on restaurant adventures because blue really likes fancy food; one day they run into nick who says something nasty about tim and blue breaks nick’s wrist (tim’s net gain: another older brother unit)” and “santi is frantically trying to catch the bus one night and steps on one of poison ivy’s vines—whoops, it’s sex pollen; santi gets introduced to PAID forms” or, alternately, “jason gets hit with the poison ivy special and that’s how santi finds out he’s on jason’s PAID form” and “bruce and blue surprisingly get along very well and trade sparring tips (meanwhile, bruce is trying so hard to get santi to tolerate him and it’s slow going)” and also “dick realizes everyone else in the world knew he and blue were dating and in love six months before he did.”

extra content:

santi, blue, and kon end up in a robin bf support group gc. one day kon gets added to a group chat that’s just like [(372)846-XXXX and (124)234-XXXX has added you to a group chat] and nothing happens there for like 2 hours he’s just like 

kon: ?

kon: hello?

kon: is this spam? is there such a thing as spam gcs?

kon: am i getting blackmailed

kon: how did you get this number??

(blue added kon while santi is in school)

the gc also ends up nonstop unintentional comedy due to their communication styles. kon’s gen z (👍 = declaration of war) and santi is technologically elder millennial/boomer (thought 🙂 was a normal smiley until corrected)—but blue is none of the above. blue knows the nuances of every emoji but has no social rules for using them. he’s an emoji artist. he is unbound.

from @90kon, in a version of the timeline where santi hasn’t seen jason’s face/doesn’t know his name before their sort-of breakup:

after their not-yet-together-break-up they should have an argument. like santi confronts jason about him saying he doesn’t want this thing between them to go on but wont give santi an honest answer but also keeps lurking and santi cant move on like that. bc either he’s done with him or he’s not. and umm yeah jason is not rly saying much but eventually santi is like alright. just tell me this: do you want this or not? forget about everything else…do you want me? and santi barely has time to finish his question before jason says yes. in a tight voice. i want you so much it scares the shit out of me. and ummm well eventually santi is like look. you can have me. but i have conditions.

and he’s like. whatever idk uhh don’t lurk out my window unless you’re gonna come in. dont investigate me; if you want to know something, just ask. at the end he should say "and i need a name. it doesn't have to be your full name or anything, but i need to call you something other than red." and jason is quiet for so long santi sighs and is like. "yeah i didn’t actually think that one was gonna fly. whatever, forget i said--" and jason says "jay." like it just slips out of him. and santi stills, looks at him, and from the way jason said it he somehow knows it's real. it could be short for any number of names but it's real. so he repeats it. "jay."

family game night from @mammutblog:

collected OCBFEU tag

[OC boyfriends created in a lab by @90kon, @mammutblog, @cairoscene, @vinelark, @feyburner, @bluecrystalrainingdaggers!]

[kousagi7hikari]

Moshang Pigmalion AU

Shang Qinghua was burnt out. This was a fact that only became obvious to him when his… friend? Biggest critic? Shen Yuan had pointed out how his usually crappy sculptures had somehow gotten worse. Shang Qinghua finally had to admit that maybe he’d been working too hard. But he was a starving artist! What was he supposed to do?

Luckily, he’d managed to finish a commission that would give him a couple month’s rent and food, so he could take a much-needed break.

But his fingers still itched. Even though he’d taken this time off to rest and recover, he simply had to make… something. So, he decided to make something for himself.

He had plenty of chicken wire and just enough clay, so he started sculpting a man. 

As he molded and scraped and smeared and carved, Shang Qinghua felt a little better. This piece was just for him, after all. He created it without worrying about putting it in a tiny art show or desperately trying to sell it off. 

After all, who hadn’t thought about creating their perfect man before? 

He’d lost track of how long it took for him to make this piece, but when it was done, Shang Qinghua felt a flutter of pride.

He was tall, muscular, with pecs you could get lost in, hair that flowed down his back like water, an icy stare that could drop the room a couple degrees, and… Shang Qinghua glanced at the place between his legs that he’d covered with a sheet. 

He’d taken life drawing classes! Why was this so embarrassing?

As he looked over his creation, Shang Qinghua sighed. It was fun to create for himself, especially to create his ideal guy… but he was just clay. Clay and chicken wire.

The buzzer to his door snapped Shang Qinghua out of his reverie. 

“Finally!” He sighed with relief. He’d forgotten how long ago he had placed his food delivery order.

He probably looked like he'd rolled around in a mud pit, so he was thankful he’d requested the delivery person to just leave the bags. However, when he arrived at the door, the delivery person was still there.

“Can I help you?” Shang Qinghua asked through the crack in the door, held shut by the chain.

“Uh, yeah, I just need you to sign the receipt.”

Shang Quinghua knew for a fact that he’d never had to sign a receipt with these people before, and he’d used the same method of payment. Immediately, red flags started popping up. “Are you sure? I don’t usually have to sign.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, it’s a new policy.”

Bullshit. “I didn’t get any email or notice about this.” Shang Qinghua said, trying to be as firm as he could. “Can I please just have my food?”

Suddenly the delivery person took a step forward, grabbing the door, trying to open it further.

“You can have it when you get out here.” He snarled.

Immediately Shang Qinghua realized he was in serious danger. His eyes flicked to the hat the man was using to hide his eyes and noticed it had no logo on it.

This guy wasn’t the food delivery person, and Shang Qinghua would rather not find out who-or what-he was. 

“Y-You need to leave or I’ll call the police!” He left out the fact that his cell was in his studio.

“I don’t think you-” The man suddenly stopped, looking at something behind Shang Qinghua.

Before he could even ask what he was looking at, Shang Qinghua was aware of a presence behind him. Now the terror he had tried to hide from this assailant showed clearly on his face.

Someone was in his home who had not been a moment ago.

Before he could scream, a hand reached over and grabbed the door frame with a worrying “CRACK!”

The intruder leaned over Shang Qinghua, his long, dark hair spilling onto his shoulder from above.

“He said…” A voice Shang Qinghua had never heard before growled. “Get lost.”

The assailant, now stark white, gently placed the bag of food back on the ground, took a few steps back, then bolted back down the street.

Shang Qinghua remained frozen in place as the hair and the presence retreated. Even without turning around, he knew he was still there.

“Aren’t you going to get that?” The voice asked.

Shang Qinghua swallowed the fear (and possible vomit) creeping up his throat and nodded. He undid the chain to retrieve his food, then closed the door again, leaving it unlocked in case he needed to make an escape.

He took a shaky breath and turned around to face the intruder.

The food promptly dropped to the floor.

Standing before Shang Qinghua was the man he had sculpted from clay. He had the same long hair, though it was now black as ink. His skin was pale, but now flushed with life. His piercing gaze chilled Shang Qinghua to the bone, and his… No!! He didn’t dare look! Even though he was now wrapped in the sheet, looking like he’d just stepped out of the shower.

“You…” He managed to squeak out. “You’re my…”

The sculpture waited for him to construct a sentence, a raised eyebrow indicating he’d rather not wait all day.

“How… are you alive?” Was the question Shang Qinghua finally settled on.

“You made me. And then I was awake.” He said.

“Okay, fair…” Shang Qinghua murmured. “Um… What’s your name?”

The sculpture looked deeply unamused. “You didn’t give me one yet.”

“Ah…” Shang Qinghua whispered. “Would you… like one?”

The man gave him an undeniably clear “what do you think?” face.

Shang Qinghua reached into his mind, back to when he fancied himself a writer back in high school. He had even typed up an outline for a book. Something with demons and cultivators and stuff. He remembered one character he’d made as a sidekick to the main character, a powerful general, one who-just like the man before him-he’d made just for him.

“Mobei Jun?”

Mobei Jun seemed to consider this for a moment before nodding, and turning away. “You should eat.”

Shang Qinghua quickly scooped up the bag of food, checking to make sure nothing had spilled, then followed Mobei Jun into his kitchen. He’d have to text Shen Yuan later. “What was that one story where the artist’s sculpture came to life?”