#i said “make me” and well. guess what happened.

[ariestrxsh]

bsf!chris x bsf!reader

🤍 content warning: smut, fingering, oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex, sexualization of religious imagery

🤍 summary: after a date gone bad, your best friend chris is there to make you feel better with his cock

this fic was inspired/requested by this ask that was sent in forever ago (and it was also inspired/requested by someone who asked for a plot where reader goes to chris for comfort after a bad date but I forgot to save their ask </3)

angel like u

꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱

You buried your face into Chris' chest, tears staining the front of his shirt, but he didn't mind at all. He didn't mind the tear stains, and he didn't mind that you'd interrupted him playing video games on stream. All that he cared about was that you were okay.

He cradled your head with one hand, and with the other, he tenderly rubbed your back. You hadn't even been able to explain to your best friend why you were so upset yet, and he still held you against his chest, smoothing down your hair.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," he said in a comforting voice. You pulled away, sniffled, and looked up at him with your big, misty eyes. "It's embarrassing, really," you started off, wiping away a tear with the sleeve of your sweater.

He listened quietly without judgment as you continued on. "I went on a first date with a guy, and I don't usually do this, but we were getting along really well. So I went back to his place, and things got a little heated," you started to tell him, searching for his reaction and hoping he didn't think differently of you.

"What happened?" Chris sharply asked, clenching his jaw and imagining the worst-case scenario. "It's not that it was bad or anything. It's just that he didn't make me.." you started to say, but you turned away, too flustered to finish your sentence.

"He didn't make you.. cum?" Chris speculated. "Exactly," you said, somewhat relieved that Chris had finished your sentence for you.

"He came, and then it was just over. He didn't even try to get me off after or even cuddle with me. I just put my clothes back on, he told me he didn't feel anything for me, and then he suggested that he take me home," you admitted, your lip quivering and your eyes welling with tears again.

"What an asshole," Chris muttered under his breath, wiping away your mascara-stained tears from your cheek with his thumb.

"I didn't want to cry in front of him, and I didn't want to be alone, so I asked him to take me here since it was only a few minutes away. I hope you don't mind that I just showed up unannounced on your doorstep, sobbing at midnight," you apologetically said.

"Of course I don't mind. You know I'm here for you whenever you need it," Chris comforted you. "Thank you, Chris," you replied, pulling him into another hug, tightly gripping the fabric of his shirt as if he'd float away if you let go.

"Boys like that don't deserve angels like you. How are you feeling right now, pretty girl?" Chris wondered, resting his head against yours.

"I know I agreed to it, but I just feel so used, you know? I feel stupid for giving it up on the first date. And listen, I know this is weird, but I still feel kind of.." your voice trailed off as you cracked an embarrassed smile.

"Turned on?" Chris guessed, finishing your thought again.

"Yeah, I mean, it was good up until he stopped. I was so close," you admitted, almost forgetting you were talking to your male best friend instead of your therapist. "Oh, god. I'm so sorry. You didn't need to know that," you buried your head in your hands after your confession.

Chris let out a small chuckle, caressing your back with his fingertips again. "You don't have to be embarrassed to tell me things like that. I don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything, but I could, you know, finish you off if you'd like," Chris offered, his tongue darting out and wetting his lips as his gaze fell to your mouth.

Your eyebrows flew up. "Y-you'd do that?" You asked, seriously considering his proposal. "Yeah. I hate seeing you cry," Chris whispered, wiping away another tear as it fell. "If I could go back in time and make sure the whole situation didn't happen to begin with, I would. Making you feel good is the least I can do."

He tilted your chin up to look at him, searching your face for permission to kiss you. "What do you say? You want me to make you cum?" He sweetly asked, his gaze lingering on yours. "Yes. Pleeease, Chris," you softly begged, the words surprising you as they tumbled from your mouth in such a desperate manner.

He smirked down at you before his eyes fluttered closed, and he leaned in, his lips gently meeting yours. It started off slow - a few soft pecks here and there and a gentle caress of his fingertips along your jawline, sending goosebumps across your warm skin.

Before you knew it, the two of you had been swept up in the moment. His lips passionately engulfed yours, and his velvet-like tongue gently brushed against yours, filling your mouth with the taste of a blue raspberry-flavored piece of candy he'd eaten shortly before.

You softly moaned into his mouth, the vibration tickling his lips and sending blood rushing below his waist. He reached up your shirt, gently pinching your sensitive nipples, feeling them harden under his touch. He pulled your top off over your head and admired the sight of you half-nude on his bed.

His hand wandered to the button of your jeans, and he slipped his long, slender fingers into your waistband. He gasped and pinched his eyebrows together when he felt how wet you were, his face only a few inches from yours as he explored your folds.

You relaxed against his body, a few breathy, textured moans spilling from your lips. "Let's get you out of these," Chris suggested, removing his hand from your waistband and motioning for you to lift your hips, so he could pull your jeans and your panties off of you and have better access to you.

Once you were completely naked, you leaned back on Chris' bed and slowly parted your legs, showing yourself off to him. "Look at that. She's so happy to see me," Chris seductively cooed, sliding his middle finger up and down your slit. You shuddered at the sensation and his words.

Your breath hitched in your throat as your best friend toyed with you, spreading open your labia and admiring how pretty and pink it was. He placed two digits at your entrance and watched them slowly disappear into your drooling hole.

"You weren't kidding. You are turned on," Chris observed, pumping his fingers and slightly curling them. You bit back a moan and grasped at the bedsheets beneath you. "Don't be shy. I wanna hear you," Chris responded with a smile on his face, indicating to you that he didn't care that his brothers were asleep upstairs.

You nodded and released your lower lip from between your teeth. As Chris picked up the pace, another sensual sound tore through you, but you didn't hold back this time. "That's it," Chris purred.

You peered down at the way he pistoned his fingers deep inside of you, your eyes traveling to the silver chain around his wrist and his prominent veins on his arms. With his blue eyes locked on yours, he lowered his head between your thighs and took your clit into his mouth.

You jumped and squealed at the feeling of his soft tongue exploring you, fluttering around on your needy pussy. He closed his lips down around your sensitive bundle of nerves and started gently suckling on it.

"Oh, Chris," his name fell from your lips as your tipped your hand back and started combing through his soft, brown hair with your hand. He worked tirelessly, his mouth and his fingers caressing your sensitive flesh, and he was determined to do so until you were finishing all over his tongue.

"Chris.." you whispered, his name falling from your lips again, but this time in a tone that indicated that you needed something from him. He peered up at you with his perfectly blue eyes and his drunk expression as he drank from your center. "Hmm?" He hummed against your clit, causing you to raise your hips and grind against his face.

"Your tongue feels heavenly, but I need more. Please," you requested. "More?" He asked, pulling away for a moment. You reached down and gently tugged on the collar of his shirt. "I need you to fuck me, Chris," the words tumbled out of you with fervor.

He was towering over you while you laid on your back, staring up at him like he was a god whose cock was going to bring you eternal salvation. He pulled his shirt off over his head, revealing his gorgeous body to you that had become more muscular in these recent months due to how often he'd been working out.

Your eyes danced over his chest, his stomach, and the prominent lines on his lower abdomen that directed your attention to his hard on that was struggling against the grey cotton of his sweatpants.

Before you had time to take in just how flawless he looked shirtless, he was hooking his thumbs in his waistband and tugging down his bottoms. His dick sprung out, and your gaze followed the way it gently bobbed.

"You ready, angel?" Chris asked, positioning himself between your legs. You stared down at his smooth, pink cockhead that was glistening with precum, and you nodded. Your jaw fell slack at the initial stretch as he pushed the tip into your weeping hole. Chris was much thicker than the man you'd been with earlier that night.

"So big.." you whimpered as he pushed it in a little deeper. A smug smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I know, angel," he said in a breathy groan as you fluttered around him. He started to rock his hips back and forth, inserting more of his length with every thrust. You let out a relieved sigh as he found your gspot, and your eyes rolled around in your head.

Chris gazed down at you beneath him, arms outstretched and tightly gripping his soft sheets. You loved the way he looked hovering above you, his flushed cheeks, his desire-filled blue eyes, and his pouty, pink lips parted as the room filled with his moans.

You felt his hand brush against the inside of your thigh as he spread your legs open further. His thumb found your clit, and he started moving it in circles as he drove himself into you over and over again. You let your sounds of pleasure pour from your lips with reckless abandon as Chris skillfully brought you to the edge.

You felt that divine feeling brewing deep within your core as Chris drilled his cock into you at an increasingly harder and faster pace. He could feel you sucking him in, and the way your pussy was throbbing around him. "You wanna cum, don't you, pretty girl?" He purred, looking into your eyes. "Mhmm," you hummed back desperately.

"How many times?" He asked, smiling down at you. His question surprised you. The man you'd gone on the date with couldn't even make you orgasm once, and now Chris was offering multiple? You were nearly too fucked out to answer him, but you regained your composure long enough to tell him, "three."

"Three? Greedy girl," he teased you, still making circles on your clit with his fingers as he rammed his tip into your gspot. "Show me what you've got, angel," Chris whispered, jolting his hips into you in a rhythmic pattern that he loved the way you reacted to.

Before you knew it, he was driving you over the edge, and your muscles tightened around him before you started to shake violently. You practically screamed in pleasure as you came on his cock, clenching around him uncontrollably which made it hard for him to hold on until your second orgasm, never mind your third. You felt the tension leave your body.

You'd been waiting all night for this feeling, and as you were sinking into the pleasure rippling throughout your system, you felt a second wave coming on. The pressure built so quickly this time, but the release was just as incredible as the first, resulting in you curling your toes and tearing at the sheets beneath you.

Chris was holding on for dear life, trying to get you to your third climax before he let himself cum, and with every powerful thrust into your drooling cunt, the harder it became for him to control his orgasm. He was begging to finish inside of you.

However, he maintained his stamina, pistoning into you at the perfect speed and pressure to get you what you asked for without giving in just yet. You trembled as you came onto his length a third time, leaving a thick ring of white at the base of his shaft.

Once you were completely spent, he snapped his hips forward and held them still, a guttural moan passing through his lips while he pumped you full of his heavenly substance. You could feel him release his load into you, his cock pulsating in your hole and leaving you with an incredible post-orgasmic state. He slowly pulled himself out of you, admiring the beautiful mess he'd left behind.

"How was that, angel? How do you feel?" Chris asked, checking in with you and cradling your face in his palm as he ran his thumb across your cheek. You smiled in sheer bliss, your chest still rising and falling as you caught your breath.

"That was divine. Your cock is like heaven," you whispered into his ear. "Well, angels like you are who heaven was made for," he whispered back.

[sarbithewizard]

And then, the world went mad...

Before I would've said the world would go out in a nuclear blaze or something otherwise generically apocalyptic like that. Survival scenarios were always fun to think about in those kinds of settings. Then I stepped outside to go to work and the house across the street blew up. The wildest thing? I'm pretty sure I saw Susan flying into the distance wearing a blanket like some kind of sugar glider, but got distracted by her car hood banging to the road like it had been launched from the roof. I called the police to report the explosions and subsequent fire, but the operator just started flirting with me. Creeped out, I hung up and tried again only to get raucous laughter from someone else. I went to get a hose and maybe do something when I heard gunshots. GUNSHOTS! Gunshots in my sleepy little suburb, and I'm convinced they were shooting at me! What did I do?! I ran to my car and took off, console pistol in hand because I had no idea what was going on. I drove to my friend Dave's house, but he seemed bored by the madness I frantically described seeing in my trip over. "Time-loop, bud. You're lucky I stuck around this time to see you. Damnedest thing. I think you're the only one that doesn't know. Made me kind of a celebrity for a few years there, but now you're novelty has worn off. Oh, you'll get some attention still, but the North American Free People's Society has laid down some protection rules around you, but it's not like we can enforce any infrastructure in the beginning. Good luck with Today! I'll see you again Today." He just got up and walked out. He seemed listless about the whole thing. Strange accent as well. I found his corpse a few hours later. I'm still trying to convince myself that some worldwide mass hallucination happened, because I can't otherwise make sense of everything. Dave was right though, which makes it harder to believe. I ran into plenty of would-be-lovers, plenty of whackos trying to kill me, and quickly had a bodyguard contingent from this NAFPS group who shot a lot of people between casually chatting with me and maintaining a perimeter. I guess they have a daily rotation and it's considered some kind of honor.

Then the next day came.

There were all kinds of reactions. Orgies in the street, mass suicides, plenty of weeping in both joy and terror. Before no one wanted to talk to me about it anymore, probably because of all the questions I kept asking in the early days, I learned that everyone was in there for hundreds of years. Certainly explains some of the wild skills I saw from people who otherwise looked like normal service workers or business drones. It seems some considered themselves immortal, and being confronted by Tomorrow shook most up. The NAFPS is still around in some capacity. It seems there were groups that were preparing for Tomorrow all over the place, but never really expected it to come. It was clear who truly believed soon enough, from my perspective. I work with them as thanks for protecting me the day the world went mad, and I'm starting to believe them. This is all too orchestrated to be anything fake or hallucinated. It's just so hard to believe, you know? It seems that my celebrity status in the strange world I missed out on makes me a relatively trustable party for negotiations. I've been shipped to neo nation-states across the globe like the NAFPS as a kind of emissary of the world that was. To me it was just last Thursday, but I guess to them, that's when the world really started. I still miss Dave.

-Reflections from the diary of control entity, Jay, in simulation iteration 166,440. It can be noted that human society is starting to become stable, post-resumption. This researcher believes this to be a solid sign we are past the primal anarchic tendencies of the prolonged mortal persistence in a zero-consequence environment and refutes the claim of inherently chaotic nature in the species. Albeit did take several hundred years. The concerted effort to keep the control entity alive as a living monument to their culture and former society is of particular interest to this researcher.

Apparently, you are living in a time loop. Also apparently, you are the only person on Earth who DOESN'T remember the previous iterations. This is the first time you've experienced today; the rest of humanity has been stuck reliving today for years now.

[goldfades]

hiiii idea popped in my head seeing joey on the phone but like imagine he’s away and trying to help y/n get kids to bed but it’s hard since he’s away 🥰😭 sorry i have to share the imaginings happening :-))))

no, baby i love when people share their cute little ideas!!! i hope you enjoy this one<3

The second Joe’s face popped up on FaceTime, Hayes let out a dramatic gasp—like he had just seen a celebrity in the wild.

"Dada!"

You winced as his little voice echoed through the house, far louder than necessary. "Hayes, baby, inside voice," you reminded him, but it didn’t matter. The damage was already done.

From down the hall, you heard the unmistakable wail of your youngest, jolted awake by his big brother’s sudden outburst. You closed your eyes for a brief second, sighing, already bracing for the next half hour of chaos.

Joe must have heard it, too, because his face twisted in sympathy. "That bad, huh?"

You turned your attention back to the phone, where Joe was sitting in his hotel room, half-smiling, half-wincing, freshly showered with wet curls sticking to his forehead.

"That bad," you confirmed, shifting Hayes further onto your hip. He had his tiny fingers fisted in your shirt, but his eyes were locked on the screen, grinning so big it made his dimples pop.

"Hi, buddy," Joe said, his voice warm and fond.

"Dada, when you coming home?" Hayes asked, tilting his head.

Joe’s face softened. "Couple more days, bud. But guess what? We have a game tomorrow. Are you gonna watch?"

Hayes nodded enthusiastically, kicking his legs in excitement. "I wear my jersey!"

"You better. Gotta match me, right?"

Hayes nodded again, his little hands now gripping the phone like he could somehow pull Joe through the screen.

It wasn’t the first time he had gone through this phase. As you liked to say, Hayes had his "favorites"—rotating obsessions that switched every few months. Sometimes it was dinosaurs, sometimes it was a specific pair of socks he refused to take off for days at a time, and sometimes, it was Joe.

This was one of those times.

For the past couple of weeks, everything had been about Joe. Hayes only wanted to watch football, only wanted to play "catch" in the backyard, only wanted to FaceTime his dad 24/7. If Joe was around, you were nothing—completely cast aside.

Which, really, you didn’t mind. Because the way Joe lit up every time Hayes showed even an ounce of excitement over football or his job in general—it was worth every second of being ignored.

What you did mind, however, was getting him to sleep without Joe here.

"Okay, buddy, we gotta say goodnight to Dada," you said, shifting Hayes in your arms.

"No!" Hayes protested immediately, curling his little fingers into fists. "Not yet!"

Joe chuckled. "C’mon, H, listen to Mama. You gotta go to bed."

Hayes pouted. "Don’t wanna."

"Yeah, well, I don’t wanna deal with a grumpy toddler tomorrow, so you kinda have to," you muttered under your breath, earning a soft laugh from Joe.

"How about this?" Joe offered. "I’ll stay on FaceTime while you get in bed, and I’ll tell you a story, okay?"

Hayes perked up immediately. "A story?"

"Yeah," Joe grinned. "But only if you’re in bed."

Hayes was already wiggling out of your grasp before Joe had even finished his sentence, making a beeline for his room. You sighed in relief, grabbing the monitor from the counter before following behind.

By the time you got to his room, he was already under the covers, clutching his stuffed tiger, eyes bright with anticipation.

"Alright, let’s hear it, Burrow," you said, settling into the rocking chair, phone still in hand.

Joe laughed, then launched into one of Hayes’ favorites—something about a football-playing dinosaur that you were pretty sure Joe had made up on the fly one night, but Hayes had loved it ever since.

It took a few minutes, but eventually, Hayes’ blinks got heavier, and his tiny body started relaxing into the mattress.

By the time Joe reached the end of the story, his voice had dropped to barely above a whisper, and Hayes was out.

"Thank God," you sighed, carefully tucking the blanket around your son before stepping out into the hallway.

Joe was smirking when you looked back at the screen. "See? Easy."

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, ‘easy’ because you get to do the fun part. Try dealing with the bath time tantrums before you get cocky."

Joe laughed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I miss you, though. And I miss Hayes."

Your heart clenched. "He misses you, too."

"I’ll be home soon, I promise."

"I know."

There was a beat of silence before he spoke again, voice softer now.

"You’re doing such a good job, you know that?"

You felt it—the warmth spreading through your chest, the way your shoulders relaxed at his words.

"Thank you," you murmured. "Now hurry up and win so you can get back home to your biggest fan."

Joe grinned. "I think that’s you."

You huffed out a laugh. "Not even close. That title officially belongs to your tiny clone."

Joe laughed, shaking his head. "Fine. But you’re a close second."

And somehow, that was enough.

--

Joe had barely stepped foot through the door before Hayes came barreling toward him, arms wide, cheeks flushed with excitement.

Joe barely had time to drop his bag before scooping him up. "There’s my boy!" he grinned, pressing a kiss to Hayes’ chubby cheek. "Missed you, bud."

"Missed you too," Hayes said, but before Joe could even savor the moment, Hayes was already wiggling out of his grasp.

Joe blinked in confusion as his son ran right past him and straight to Maisie, who was lounging on the couch, scrolling through her phone.

"AUNT MAISIE!" Hayes shouted, climbing into her lap like she was his long-lost hero.

Maisie barely looked up, smirking. "What’s up, little dude?"

Joe stood there, stunned. Mouth slightly open, arms still mid-air from where he had just been cast aside like a used toy.

You were trying so hard not to laugh.

Maisie shot Joe a cocky look, ruffling Hayes’ curls. "Told you. I’m officially the favorite now."

Joe scoffed. "That’s not possible."

You snorted. "Oh, it’s possible. It happened while you were gone. Apparently, Maisie’s the ‘cool’ one now."

Joe crossed his arms. "I thought I was the cool one."

Maisie let out a dramatic sigh, adjusting her sunglasses (which she was still wearing inside, for some reason). "You had a good run, but the people have spoken."

Joe turned to Hayes, genuinely confused. "Buddy, what about football? What about watching game film with me? What about—?"

"I like Aunt Maisie’s music better," Hayes cut in, matter-of-factly.

Joe looked genuinely offended. "What’s wrong with my music?"

Maisie let out a loud laugh. "Oh my God. You’ve been replaced by Taylor Swift and the Encanto soundtrack."

Joe’s face dropped. "That’s not fair. Encanto has bangers."

"You don’t even know the words to ‘We Don’t Talk About Bruno,’" you pointed out.

Joe gasped, pointing at you accusingly. "You’re enjoying this too much."

"Oh, absolutely," you grinned.

Joe groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. "Unbelievable. Gone for one week and I’m completely irrelevant."

Maisie patted his shoulder. "It happens to the best of us, man."

Joe sighed, finally giving in. "Fine. But just so you know, he’s gonna want to play football with me again in, like, two weeks."

Maisie smirked. "We’ll see."

And honestly? You weren’t so sure. Because the way Hayes was currently clinging to Maisie’s side, giggling at whatever TikTok she had just shown him?

Yeah. Joe was gonna have to work really hard to win back his title.

[lazysoulwriter]

a little too close. - drew starkey.

She loved her job. Working as a costume designer meant she got to be around some of the most talented actors in the industry, creating pieces that would bring their characters to life. It was creative, exciting, and full of challenges—just the way she liked it.

But what she hadn’t accounted for was Drew Starkey walking into her fitting room and throwing her entire sense of professionalism out the window.

The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the studio lights above. It was the first fitting, and Drew stood there, shirt off, in nothing but his jeans and a nervous smile. He couldn’t deny the growing tension as she stood there, her measuring tape in hand, eyeing him closely. The air was thick, and he could feel every inch of the space between them.

“Okay, this might feel a little... weird,” she said, clearing her throat as she adjusted her posture, the tape slipping between her fingers. Drew swallowed, trying to focus on the task at hand. But every time she moved closer to take his measurements, his body betrayed him. The way her fingers grazed his skin, the way she gently tugged at the waistband of his jeans—it was enough to make him lose his composure.

“Sorry if I’m making this awkward,” he said with a laugh, trying to ease the tension.

But she didn’t laugh back. Instead, her eyes flicked up to his, locking for a brief, electrifying moment. She tilted her head slightly, biting her lip as she measured around his shoulders. “It’s fine. Just... stay still,” she replied, voice a little lower than usual.

Drew couldn’t help but notice how her breath seemed to catch every time she leaned in a little too close. It felt like the space between them was shrinking, and the more they tried to pretend it wasn’t there, the more it consumed them.

A week later, the second fitting arrived. Drew had been looking forward to it. Not because of the costume—he was already used to wearing whatever the costume department picked out—but because he couldn’t get that first moment with her out of his mind. He couldn’t tell if it was just the chemistry of the job or something more, but every time he thought about it, his heart picked up its pace.

When he walked into the room, she was already there, the same measuring tape in hand, but this time there was something different about the way they interacted. Less formality, more... ease.

“Here we go again,” Drew said with a grin, taking his shirt off in one swift movement.

She glanced up, her eyes quickly scanning him before her lips curled into a playful smile. “This should be fun.”

The tension from the first fitting was still there, but this time it felt different, lighter—more like an unspoken promise than an awkward mistake.

“So, tell me about your character,” she asked as she adjusted his pants, bending down slightly to fix the hem. Drew, feeling particularly bold, leaned closer.

“Let’s just say, he’s a lot like me—charming, confident, and... very good looking,” he replied, his voice oozing with a playful arrogance. She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“You sure about that?” she teased, standing up and looking him over. “I think you might have a little competition.”

Before he could ask what she meant, she stepped in a little too close for comfort, making it impossible for him to ignore the way their bodies seemed to align. His heart skipped a beat.

“I think you’re right,” he muttered, lowering his gaze. He wasn’t sure who moved first—whether it was him leaning in, or her meeting him halfway—but the next thing he knew, his lips were on hers, soft and eager, the kiss charged with months of unspoken tension.

When they pulled away, both breathless, Drew ran a hand through his hair, his grin impossible to hide. “Well, I guess that wasn’t too bad.”

She chuckled, taking a step back, trying to act like nothing happened. “I’m going to call that... a wardrobe malfunction,” she teased, a smirk playing on her lips.

The third fitting came, and Drew found himself anxiously awaiting their next encounter. The spark between them was undeniable now, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep his cool. When he walked into the room, she was there, looking as effortlessly stunning as always, her hands busy with fabric, but her eyes lighting up when she saw him.

“You’re early,” she said, glancing at the clock.

“I couldn’t wait to see you,” he said, his voice low, a flirty edge to it.

She raised an eyebrow, but the smile that followed was anything but innocent. “Careful, or you might end up getting in trouble.”

“You like trouble,” he shot back, his gaze locked on hers, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a knife.

And before she could say anything more, he closed the distance between them. His lips found hers again, this time more urgent, more desperate, as if neither of them could resist any longer. His hands slid to her waist, pulling her closer, his heart racing with the anticipation of something they both knew was inevitable.

When they finally broke apart, her breath coming in soft gasps, he cupped her cheek gently, his thumb brushing her skin. “You’re not getting away that easily,” he whispered.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” she replied, her voice almost teasing.

“I was thinking maybe... we could grab dinner after this?” he asked, his gaze flicking down to her lips before meeting her eyes again.

She smiled, the playful glint in her eyes never leaving. “I think that sounds like a good idea,” she said, her fingers grazing his arm as she stepped back to adjust his jacket.

Later that night, as they sat across from each other at a dimly lit restaurant, their chemistry was undeniable. The flirty banter continued, the attraction only growing stronger with every passing minute.

When Drew leaned in to kiss her once more, the world seemed to stop—just for a moment, as if nothing else mattered but the two of them. And as they pulled away, both breathless and smiling, they knew that this was just the beginning.

[luvfae]

CENTRE STAGE

summary: you’re thanos favourite backup dancer, the catch? you don’t want him. well… you like to pretend you don’t.

parings: thanos/choi su-bong x f!reader

warnings: this is a long one, smut, oral (reader receiving), fingering, choking, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t be a dummy), swearing

series masterlist

The bass reverberated through the stadium, shaking the floor beneath your feet. You moved with the beat, body fluid, perfectly in sync with the other dancers. It was muscle memory at this point—hours of grueling rehearsals had carved the choreography into your bones.

And then there was Thanos.

Center stage. Soaking up the spotlight like he was born in it.

You weren’t blind—you knew he was attractive. Tall, sharp jawline, dark eyes that glinted with mischief and something more dangerous underneath. His presence was undeniable, the kind of charisma that made people lose their minds over him.

But you weren’t one of those people.

Which was why, when he shot you a cocky smirk mid-performance, you rolled your eyes and looked away.

You missed the slight falter in his steps.

Backstage was chaos. Sweat, adrenaline, the quick shuffle of dancers moving between costume changes. You were peeling off your jacket when you felt someone step into your space.

“Do you know how many girls would kill to be in your position?”

You turned, already knowing who it was.

Thanos stood in front of you, arms crossed, a glistening sheen of sweat on his forehead. His shirt clung to him, damp with exertion, and he smelled like expensive cologne and stage lights.

You raised a brow. “Which position? Because if you mean backup dancing, I worked my ass off to be here.”

His smirk widened. “I meant being this close to me.”

You scoffed. “Oh, my mistake. Guess I should start trembling.”

His smile faltered for a second, just a flicker, before he leaned in slightly. “Most girls do.”

You tilted your head, amused. “Poor things.”

His eyes darkened, scanning your face like he was trying to figure you out. Like he was waiting for the moment you’d break and melt for him like everyone else did.

You didn’t.

“Not interested?” he mused, voice lower now, intrigued.

“Not even a little bit.”

A lie. But he didn’t need to know that.

He huffed a laugh, running a hand through his damp hair. “Alright. Cool. I like a challenge.”

You turned to leave, but before you could, he caught your wrist—lightly, not enough to force you, but enough to make you pause.

“You should probably know,” he said, voice softer now, a little more serious, “I always get what I want.”

You looked at him, at the smug confidence in his face, and smirked.

“Not this time, superstar.”

And then you pulled away.

He let you go, watching as you walked off, and for the first time in his life—

Thanos realized he was the one being left wanting.

—

He had you switched the next day.

You saw it on the rehearsal schedule. Your name, suddenly paired with his for the partner sections of the choreography.

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. Unbelievable.

When you walked onto the stage, Thanos was already waiting.

“You’re a child,” you told him flatly.

He grinned. “I’m resourceful.”

“You had me switched out just so you could put your hands on me?”

He shrugged. “Now you’re getting it.”

You crossed your arms. “You know, normal people just ask someone out when they’re interested.”

He tilted his head, considering. “Yeah, but normal people also get rejected.”

You scoffed. “Which is exactly what’s happening right now.”

He stepped closer, his voice dropping an octave. “Yeah? Then why are you still standing here?”

You opened your mouth—then closed it.

Damn him.

Damn his stupid, arrogant, cocky ass.

He saw the hesitation in your eyes, the split second of uncertainty, and he fucking grinned.

“Relax,” he murmured, dragging a slow gaze down your body. “Let’s just dance.”

You exhaled through your nose, glaring. “Fine. But if you get handsy, I’m kneeing you in the balls.”

He laughed. “Noted.”

The music kicked in, bass heavy, vibrating through the soles of your shoes. You forced yourself to focus, rolling your shoulders, letting the beat settle into your body.

You had done this a million times before—picked up new choreography, adjusted to new formations, worked around whatever ridiculous creative decisions the higher-ups made. But this?

This was different.

Because now you had to dance around Thanos like he was some untouchable god, like he was the center of gravity and you were just one of his planets orbiting him.

And he knew it.

The smug bastard was eating it up.

“Alright,” the choreographer called. “Let’s take it from the top—Y/N, remember, you’re leading this section now. The energy needs to be different, more intense. It’s about power and temptation.”

You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek.

Power and temptation.

Great.

You got into position, your back to Thanos as the music restarted. Your movements were sharp, precise, every beat landing exactly where it needed to. You could feel him behind you, his presence heavy, but you ignored it—until the routine called for you to step into him.

You turned, moving into position, only for him to place his hands on your waist a second too early.

Too early, and definitely not necessary.

Your breath hitched. You felt his fingers, warm through the thin material of your top, his touch firm—possessive.

“Timing,” you snapped, twisting out of his grip.

His lips curled. “Felt right to me.”

You exhaled sharply. “Try again. And keep your hands where they’re supposed to be.”

He didn’t.

The next section had you circling him, tracing the shape of his body with your own, never touching but close enough to tease. It was supposed to be a push and pull, a careful balance of restraint and tension.

Except Thanos had no restraint.

Every time you moved past him, he found some excuse to touch you—a palm sliding over the small of your back, fingertips grazing your hip, knuckles brushing against your stomach. None of it was in the choreography.

And it was pissing you off.

Not because you didn’t like it.

Because you did.

And that made it worse.

You gritted your teeth, pressing forward with the routine, trying to pretend you weren’t hyperaware of his every move, his every breath.

Then came the final part—the part where you were supposed to sink against him, his arm wrapping around you, bodies molding together as the music reached its climax.

He pulled you in.

Too close.

Closer than necessary.

You felt his breath against your ear, his chest solid against your back, his grip firm like he was daring you to pull away.

You didn’t.

Not immediately, anyway.

“Problem?” he murmured, voice low.

You swallowed, heat licking up your spine. “Yeah. You don’t know how to follow a damn routine.”

He chuckled, his breath warm. “Or maybe I just don’t like rules.”

You twisted in his arms, pushing against his chest, forcing space between you. “Try following them for once, superstar. Or find yourself another dance partner.”

His gaze flickered with something dark. Something hungry.

Then, slowly, he smirked.

“No,” he said. “I think I’ll keep you.”

Your stomach flipped.

You scowled, shoving him harder this time, ignoring the way your pulse hammered in your throat.

“Do your job,” you warned, stepping back. “And keep your hands to yourself.”

Thanos just grinned.

“I think you’re forgetting who’s in charge here.” He tapped his chest, smirking. “Star of the show.” Then, with a slow, deliberate glance, he pointed at you. “Backup dancer.”

You exhaled sharply through your nose, rolling your eyes as you stepped back into position. Fine. If he wanted your attention so damn badly, he was going to regret it.

You had a new mission now: Make this the worst dance of his life.

The music started up again, and you turned your smirk into something sultry, something playful. If he wanted you dancing around him like he was a god, you’d do it—but you’d do it on your terms.

Every movement became sharper, more exaggerated. You dragged your fingertips across his chest when you were only supposed to graze past him. Your hips swayed a little too deliberately, your gaze lingering just a second too long. You danced around him like a tease, like a challenge, like you knew exactly what he wanted and were dangling it just out of reach.

And Thanos noticed.

His smirk faltered. His jaw tightened.

He was good at playing it cool, but you could see the way his eyes darkened, the way his fingers flexed every time your body got too close.

So you pushed it further.

At a part where you were supposed to circle around him, you let your breath fan over his neck, close enough that he could feel the heat of it. When he placed his hand on your waist—because of course he did, even though it wasn’t in the damn routine—you leaned into it just enough to make it seem deliberate before slipping away.

His grip tightened before he let go.

Good.

By the time the song ended, you were barely holding back a smirk. You could feel the tension radiating off him, could see the way he adjusted his stance like his pants were suddenly too tight.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” the choreographer clapped, beaming. “That was the energy we needed! Y/N, you nailed it—flirtatious, powerful, you owned that stage.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, feigning innocence. “Oh? Just following directions.”

Thanos shot you a look, half-amused, half-something darker. He licked his lips, stepping closer, voice low enough for only you to hear.

“You wanna play it like that, huh?”

You tilted your head, blinking up at him with faux sweetness. “Play what?”

His fingers brushed against your hip—not part of the routine, again. His voice dropped even lower, a husky whisper against your ear.

“Careful, sweetheart. Keep this up, and I won’t just be touching you for show.”

Your stomach flipped, but you didn’t let him see it. You stepped back, letting your smirk break free as you walked away.

—

The bass thrummed beneath your feet as you stepped onto the stage, the roar of the crowd nearly deafening. Bright lights, pulsing music, energy crackling in the air—showtime.

You had spent the entire day learning new choreography, perfecting every movement, every step, every fucking touch. And now? Now it was time to perform.

And him?

Thanos was already watching you like a predator.

You felt his gaze before you even looked at him. The heat of it. The weight. And when you finally did look, you swore you could see the exact moment he realized he was fucked.

Because his jaw clenched. His eyes darkened. His tongue flicked out over his lips, slow and deliberate.

Yeah. He was done for.

You weren’t even doing anything yet—just walking into position in your tiny black shorts and your cropped tank that rode up every time you so much as took a breath.

His gaze dragged over your bare legs, over the slope of your waist, over the sliver of skin just above your waistband. Lingering.

And then he laughed—low, under his breath—but you caught it.

“Fuck,” he muttered, just for himself.

Your lips twitched. Got him.

The music kicked in, and suddenly, you were moving. The energy of the crowd fueled you, the beat guiding you. Every motion was sharper, smoother, more deliberate.

And Thanos?

He was distracted.

Distracted by the way your body twisted and rolled, by the way your hands skimmed over your own thighs, by the way you met his gaze with something daring in your eyes.

He was supposed to be the star of the show.

But right now? Right now, it was you.

By the time the first chorus hit, you had made your way over to him, dancing around him like you were made to, your hands ghosting over his shoulders, his chest—only to pull away at the last second, teasing, tempting.

And he hated it.

Hated it because he wanted more.

You could tell by the way he reacted. How he leaned in, how his hands twitched to touch you, how his breathing hitched when you got a little too close.

So, naturally, you pushed it.

When his hand landed on your waist you let him feel you for just a second before spinning away.

The smirk on his face faltered for a half-second. And then he recovered, shaking his head, chuckling under his breath like he couldn’t believe this was happening.

Like you were the one who had the upper hand.

And when the song ended, when the stage went dark for the next set change, he wasted zero time grabbing your wrist and pulling you against him.

Your chest heaved, breath still uneven from the performance. “Am I throwing you off?”

His grip on your wrist tightened—just enough to make you feel it.

He leaned in, voice low, rough. “Not even close.”

His gaze dropped, flickering to your lips, down your throat, lingering at the band of your shorts

Your pulse jumped.

But you refused to let it show. Instead, you tilted your head, lashes fluttering as you murmured, “Didn’t think so.”

His jaw flexed. A slow inhale through his nose. A flick of his tongue over his teeth.

And then—the stage lights flashed back on, bathing everything in a blinding glow.

Your smirk deepened as you slipped just out of reach.

—

The moment the show ended, you vanished. You didn’t stick around to let him come find you. You were done with the game for now—just another part of the routine. You didn’t owe him anything, especially after how he’d been acting on stage.

You’d slipped back to your dressing room, changed quickly, and made your way to your hotel room, not once looking back. He wouldn’t find you so easily.

But that wasn’t the Thanos you knew.

An hour later, there was a knock on your hotel door. Soft at first, then louder, more insistent. Each thud felt like it was pounding through your skull. You held your breath, hoping he’d go away, but you knew he wouldn’t.

You hesitated, trying to keep calm as you made your way to the door. Slowly, you turned the handle, peeking through the crack just enough to see his tall figure standing there, staring you down with that dark, intense gaze that you knew was enough to melt any woman—except for you.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you asked, voice cold and flat.

He didn’t waste a second. The door was shoved open as he forced his way past you, his body towering over yours, blocking any chance of escape.

“You think you can just disappear like that?” he growled, his voice raw with frustration. “You think I won’t come after you?”

You crossed your arms, trying to remain unfazed. “I didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to follow me.”

His eyes flashed, and for a brief moment, you saw the dangerous fire in them—something you’d only caught glimpses of before.

“You really think that?” he said, voice low and steady now, each word coming with a weight that was unmistakable. “You think I’m just gonna let you walk away, let you treat me like some damn game?”

“You’re the one making it a game,” you shot back, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “I’m just playing along. Didn’t think you’d have a problem with it.”

He took a step closer, and your back hit the wall, a tiny gasp escaping your lips. You clenched your jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flinch.

“You think this is just a game to me?” His hand shot out, gripping your wrist, his fingers tightening until it almost hurt. “What the fuck do you think you’ve been doing to me all this time?”

Your breath hitched in your throat as he leaned in, his face just inches from yours. “I’m not your fucking toy, Thanos,” you said, each word laced with challenge.

His lips curled into a half-smirk, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “You might not be, but you’re sure as hell mine right now.”

“You’re a womanizer,” you hissed, pushing against his chest in a futile attempt to make him back off. “What makes you think I’d let you have me? Just because you’re famous doesn’t mean I’ll let you fuck me, you freak.”

He smirked, his hands brushing along your side with that infuriating confidence that made you want to rip his arrogance right off his face.

“Really?” he murmured, his lips curling into that taunting grin you were so damn familiar with. “Tell me to leave then.”

You stared up at him, your chest heaving, pulse quickening with the tension between you. He was close—too close—and you were burning under the weight of his stare, but you didn’t say a word. You couldn’t. You couldn’t fight it any longer.

Instead, your hands fisted his shirt, tugging him down to you. Your lips collided with his in a desperate, hungry kiss, more forceful than anything you’d ever let yourself give before.

You hated him for making you want him. You hated how his arrogance seemed to draw you in even more. But as much as you fought it, you couldn’t deny the heat flooding your body, the way he made you feel alive—even if it meant giving in to all the things you knew you shouldn’t want.

His response was immediate, his hands gripping you tightly, pulling you flush against him as he deepened the kiss. His tongue traced your lips before sliding in, taking control in that way he always did, and you couldn’t stop yourself from responding, from giving in.

When he pulled away, his breath ragged, his face was inches from yours, his lips swollen and glistening from the kiss. “Knew you wanted it,” he said, voice low and rough.

Your chest tightened. You should’ve said something. Should’ve pushed him away, but the truth was, you didn’t want to. Not now. Not with the way your body was burning from the inside out.

He moved his hands down your body, tugging at the hem of your shirt, lifting it over your head in one fluid motion. You were left standing in front of him, your chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, and for a moment, you hated how exposed you felt.

But then his hands were on your skin again, hot and possessive, trailing over your bare body, making you shiver as he kissed along your neck, his lips grazing your skin like he couldn’t get enough of you. And suddenly, all those reservations you’d had, all those walls you’d put up, seemed to disappear into the haze of lust and want.

He pulled back, his eyes dark with desire, and you didn’t have to say a word. He could see it in your eyes—the same hunger, the same need.

Before you knew it, he had you flat against the wall, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed into you, his lips back on yours with a fierce urgency. And you didn’t fight it. Not this time.

He broke away for a moment, his voice rough, but controlled. “Tell me you want this. Say it.”

Your hands ran up his chest, your nails scraping over his skin as you tugged him back down. “I want you,” you murmured, your voice laced with that desperate edge he’d been waiting for. “Kiss me.”

Thanos didn’t hesitate. The second the words left your mouth, his lips crashed into yours again, all teeth and heat and raw desperation. His hands roamed your body like he was trying to memorize every inch of you, fingers digging into your thighs as he pressed his body flush against yours.

You felt everything—the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch, the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the unmistakable hardness between his legs as he ground against you, making you gasp into his mouth.

His hands roamed your body, sliding down your sides, gripping your thighs as he lifted you higher against the wall. You gasped into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his purple, sweat-dampened hair, tugging just enough to hear him groan.

"Fuck," he muttered against your lips, his breath ragged, his fingers digging into your skin. "You drive me fucking insane, you know that?"

You smirked, pressing your forehead against his. "Yeah? And whose fault is that?"

His laugh was low, dark, full of something dangerous. His grip on you tightened, and in one swift motion, he carried you across the room, dropping you onto the hotel bed with a smirk of his own.

"Mine," he admitted, voice rough as he hovered over you, his gaze raking over your body like he was memorizing every inch. "Because I should've had you the moment you rolled your eyes at me."

Your heart pounded, heat pooling between your thighs as he pressed a knee between them, teasing, testing. "And now?" you challenged, breathless.

He tilted his head, watching you with that arrogant, knowing smirk. "Now?" His fingers traced the waistband of your shorts, slipping beneath the fabric just enough to make you squirm. "Now I don't plan on stopping."

You arched your back as his lips trailed down your throat, his hands exploring, claiming, making it clear that this wasn't just some meaningless hookup to him.

This was a warning.

A promise.

A fucking declaration.

And god help you, you wanted all of it.

“You still think I’m a womanizer?” he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark.

You arched into him, biting back a whimper as his teeth scraped over your pulse point. “You’re still a cocky bastard.”

He chuckled against your skin, the sound vibrating through you. “Maybe,” he admitted, his hand slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts. “But you like it.”

You did. And that pissed you off.

You grabbed his face, forcing him to look at you. “Shut up and fuck me.”

His eyes darkened.

“Gladly.”

Thanos kissed you like he was trying to consume you, like he wanted to leave his mark on every inch of your body. His hands were everywhere—gripping your waist, sliding up your thighs, squeezing your hips hard enough to bruise.

You gasped as he flipped you over, pressing you into the mattress with his body. “You act so fucking tough,” he murmured against your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “But I see right through you.”

A sharp gasp tore from your lips as he bit down on the sensitive skin of your neck, his hands slipping beneath your shorts, fingertips burning against your bare skin. He pulled your pants down your legs, his eyes dark as he took you in.

“Fuck,” he muttered, running a hand down your spine before yanking your panties off in one swift motion. “I’ve wanted to do this since the first day I met you. Walking around in those fucking short. The bane of my existence, babe.”

Your breath hitched when he trailed his fingers between your legs, teasing, taking his time just to watch you squirm.

“Thanos—”

He forced your face to the side, silencing you with a kiss, swallowing your moans as he pushed his fingers inside you, moving slow, deliberate, dragging out every reaction he could get.

“Look at you,” he groaned, lips brushing against your jaw. “So fucking wet for me.”

You hated how easy this was for him—how he could unravel you with just a touch, just a look. You wanted to fight him, to push back, to pretend you were still in control.

But then he slid his fingers out, flipping you onto your back, replacing them with his tongue, and all coherent thought disappeared.

You arched off the bed, fingers tangling in his hair as he pinned your hips down, keeping you exactly where he wanted. His name left your lips in a broken moan, your body trembling beneath him as he devoured you like he was starving.

And he didn’t stop. Not even when you came, not even when you tried to push him away, too sensitive, too overwhelmed. He just held you there, dragging you through another wave of pleasure until you were a gasping, shaking mess beneath him.

Only then did he pull away, his lips slick, his eyes dark with hunger.

“You’re not done yet,” he said, voice rough as he unbuckled his belt, letting his jeans drop to the floor.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he was on top of you again, pressing the tip of his cock against your entrance, teasing, making you whine in frustration.

“Tell me how bad you want it,” he demanded, gripping your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

You swallowed hard, pride clashing with desperation. You wanted to make him beg. You wanted to be the one in control.

But then he pushed in just an inch, stretching you open, making your head fall back with a strangled moan.

“Fuck—Thanos, please.”

That was all it took.

He thrust into you in one smooth motion, making you cry out, your nails digging into his back. He was thick, stretching you in a way that left you gasping for air, but he didn’t give you time to adjust. He set a brutal pace from the start, fucking into you like he was trying to break you.

And maybe he was.

“You feel so fucking good,” he growled, biting down on your shoulder as he slammed into you over and over, pulling out just enough to make you desperate before driving back in. “So fucking tight, taking me so well.”

Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper, your walls clenching around him as pleasure coiled in your stomach. You didn’t care about control anymore. You didn’t care about anything except the way he felt inside you, stretching you, ruining you.

“Thanos—I’m gonna—”

“I know,” he groaned, his grip tightening on your hips, his thrusts growing rougher. “Come for me, baby. Let me feel it.”

And you did. Hard. Your body clenched around him as you cried out his name, pleasure crashing over you in waves. But he wasn’t done. He fucked you through your orgasm, his pace relentless, chasing his own release.

You barely had time to catch your breath before Thanos had you on your knees, pressing your chest against the mattress with a firm hand on your back. His other hand gripped your hip, fingers digging into your skin as he positioned himself behind you.

“You’re so fucking perfect like this,” he murmured, running his palm over the curve of your ass before delivering a sharp smack that made you gasp. “Made to be fucked.”

You shivered, anticipation making your whole body tense. He spread you open, dragging the head of his cock along your slick folds, teasing, making you whimper.

“Thanos—I can’t,” you whimpered, your voice breaking as tears welled in your eyes. Your body was spent, trembling, overstimulated beyond reason. You had already come three times—three, and yet he still wasn’t satisfied.

“Yes, you can,” he murmured against your ear, his voice dark, coaxing, dripping with lust. His fingers stroked lazy circles over your clit, making you jolt, your body betraying you despite the desperate plea on your lips. “Just one more. For me.”

“I—”

He didn’t let you finish. With one rough thrust, he buried himself inside you, stretching you wide, forcing your body to take all of him. A strangled moan ripped from your throat as he bottomed out, his fingers tightening on your hips.

"You can take it," he whispered, kissing the side of your neck as he fucked you right past your limits. "I know you can."

You couldn’t muster up a single word, instead you sobbed in pleasure and pain. You were so overstimulated, but fuck, it felt so good.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, rolling his hips, making you feel every inch of him. “You like this, don’t you? Being bent over, fucked like you belong to me.”

You bit your lip, refusing to answer, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

But then he pulled out almost completely before slamming back in, setting a brutal pace that had you gripping the sheets, struggling to stay upright.

“Answer me,” he demanded, his voice low, dangerous.

“Y-yes,” you gasped, your walls fluttering around him. “I love it.”

“That’s my girl.”

He fucked you harder, his grip bruising, his thrusts deep and relentless. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mixing with the ragged moans you couldn’t hold back.

One of his hands slid around to your front, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that had you trembling beneath him.

“You gonna come for me again?” he growled, his other hand wrapping around your throat, pulling you back against his chest as he fucked into you. “Wanna feel you squeeze my cock.”

You couldn’t hold back. With a sharp cry, you came undone, your body tightening around him, waves of pleasure crashing over you.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Thanos groaned, his thrusts growing erratic as he chased his own release. He slammed into you one last time before spilling inside you, his grip on your throat tightening just enough to make your head spin.

For a moment, neither of you moved, your bodies tangled, your breaths heavy. Then he leaned in, pressing a rough kiss to your shoulder.

"I hope I didn’t ruin you," he murmured.

But he had. Completely.

—

The next morning, you woke up sore in the best way possible, tangled in expensive hotel sheets that smelled like him. The space next to you was empty, but the indent in the mattress was still warm.

You exhaled sharply, running a hand through your hair. Fuck. What the hell did you just do?

The sound of the bathroom door opening made you jolt upright. Thanos emerged, towel slung low on his hips, droplets of water sliding down his chest. He caught your gaze and smirked.

“Morning, señorita,” he drawled.

You scowled. “Don’t call me that.”

He chuckled, running a hand through his damp hair as he walked over to the bed. “You’re grumpy in the morning. Cute.”

You glared at him. “You should leave.”

His smirk faltered for a fraction of a second. Then he recovered, leaning down until his face was inches from yours. “You sure about that?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

Because the truth was, you weren’t sure at all.

Thanos watched you carefully, reading every flicker of hesitation in your eyes. You hated that about him—how easily he could see through you.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to look away. “Yeah,” you said, but your voice wasn’t as sharp as you wanted it to be. “I’m sure.”

A beat of silence. Then, he exhaled a quiet laugh. “Liar.”

Your jaw clenched. “Thanos—”

“You’re gonna pretend last night didn’t happen?” He tilted his head, voice low and taunting. “Or just pretend you didn’t love every fucking second of it?”

Heat crept up your neck, shame and frustration tangling together in a way that made you feel sick. You didn’t answer, just pulled the sheets tighter around yourself.

Thanos clicked his tongue, his fingers brushing your chin as he tilted your face up to meet his gaze. “I’ll go,” he murmured, but there was something unreadable in his expression. “For now.”

Your breath caught. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He smirked, leaning in just enough that his lips ghosted over yours. “You’ll see.”

Then, before you could say another word, he was gone.

You sat there, staring at the door long after it clicked shut, your pulse hammering in your throat.

Fuck.

You had a terrible, sinking feeling that this wasn’t over. Not even close.

[babvc-au]

Alrighty Folks! The Time Has Finally Come!

Hopefully this is everything and i didn't miss any panels or doodles for this post, but here is almost everything about BABVC's comic sketches, wips, doodles, refs, and even scripts i never finished, plus more! Doodles and other art stuff will be added to the end of this post. (Due to how many wips i have and such, there will be multiple reblogs happening as i go through this so bare with me.)

So, did you want to know how BaBvc would have went? Here's your answer. (This will contain a mix of the script, old comic wips and context)

Now, well jump to where we left off in the comic with a smol refresher.

Scene 6 Nightmare:

It's dark and bendy is in a black like void. He hears voices.

"Why? You had a chance!" OB growls.

"Who's there!?" Bendy shouts.

"Why did you resist?" OB

"What?"

Bendy's eyes are suddenly covered by cold clawed hands. And he tries to pry them off.

"Why!?" OB

"What are you talking about?! Who are you!" Bendy growls trying to fight them off.

"Don't keep me waiting much longer" we see the claws retract and three tails around Bendy.

"I'm sick of waiting"

The last shot is of Bendy's demon cross eye.

“But, how…?”

He hears a yawn from Boris as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, “good morning, Bendy”

Boris blinks at Bendy’s hand and the bag, "You better not eat that so early in the morning, Bendy.” Boris scolded, ears pinned back.

“What? No, i wouldn't do that. But...” Bendy says, looking at the can thoughtfully. "Did you get some more after last night…?" He asked the tall wolf. Boris raised a brow at him, confused. 

"What do you mean?" He asked. "That's the same bag from last night when we went to the market right?" He asked. 

"Well yeah but, I lost it, remember?" Bendy said and looked up at his younger brother. Boris stares at him in confusion. "...You did?" He asked. 

Camera focuses on the can in his hand.

Scene 8:

Bendy and Boris enter Berry cafe and take a seat at a booth.

"So you honestly don't remember?" Bendy starts looking across the table to his younger brother.

"I really don't. I only remember us getting the stuff, and then after that, it's all blurry. Like I blacked out or something, and then it was morning." Boris replied. "Are you sure you didn't just imagine you lost it? Maybe it was a dream that you had last night." He points out.

"..." Bendy thinks, "Maybe you're right. I've been having weird dreams, and I guess it's possible." He says tiredly. "Though it really felt like I wasn't dreaming." He mumbled to himself.

Then Melody comes around shortly after and asks them what they would like to order. "Hello, welcome to Berry's Cafe. What would you - oh! It's you two, the usual then?" She smiles and lifts her paper and pen.

Bendy lifts his head and gives a small smile. "Ah, yeah, for me, at least. Boris?" He looks over expectantly for his order.

"Oh! um, what's the special today?"

"New York cheesecake drizzled in strawberries and syrup, it's so good!" she smiles and hugs her notepad dreamily.

Boris perks at that smiling "Guess I know what I'm getting now, (haha) and can I get a hot coco with that, thanks Melody."

"No problem! I'll put your order in right away." She nods and walks away allowing Bendy to see the other residents in the cafe. And surprisingly enough he sees someone familiar. His eyes widened a little, shocked.

(Isn't that-?)

Bendy looks at his right wrist and rubs it lightly.

(So it hadn't been a dream? I should probably thank him.)

Bendy stood, making Boris look at him. "Bendy?"

"I'll be back."

Bendy walks away and heads for the familiar person.

"Uh, Hey." he says. Catching Cupheads attention who opens his eyes. He looks a little confused and shocked to see Bendy for a moment.

"I wanted to say thanks for the other night you really helped me back there." Bendy says looking to the side awkwardly.

Cuphead says nothing for a minute. His shock turns to annoyance.

"Yeah, whatever, watch yourself, you're lucky I found you when I did." Cuphead says with a steady look. "Didn't your mom teach you not to walk around at night by yourself?"

"It's dangerous." He glares, narrowing his eyes.

Bendy furrows his brows at the semi aggressive tone. "Hey, I came to thank you, not get a lecture! And I wasn't by myself."

"..."

"Anyway like I said, thank you, seriously." Bendy frowned.

Cuphead stands up and looks down at Bendy, who looks up at him in return nervously as they stare at each other.

"Here you go sir, your order." Tostie says, giving Cuphead two drinks.

"Thanks," he says.

She walks away.

"There you are, Cuppy!" A new voice sounds in the cafe besides Bendy.

Mugs comes over and stands by his brother's side. Who gives him an exhausted look.

"Here." Cuphead hands him the second drink.

"Oh! Were you in the middle of something?" Mugs looks between Bendy and Cuphead.

Cuphead gives Bendy another glare.

"No. Let's go." He walks off, but Mugs falters and gives Bendy a nervous smile and a wave before he follows.

"Geez, what a jerk." (At least the other guy was nice) Bendy sweats but shrugs it off heading back to Boris.

"Was that someone you knew?"

"Uh, not exactly," Bendy says as he slides back into the booth.

It's silent for a moment before Boris speaks up.

"Bendy, listen, I know you're just as confused as I am, but you haven't told me a single thing about what happened last night, I was really worried about you."

"I know, I promise to tell you when I've made sense of it, ok? Just… give me some time."

Boris sighs, "...Ok"

Bendy looks away and out the window covered in fog with a thoughtful look. It starts to snow a little.

Scene 9

Cuphead glares ahead. (The hell? Did I not wipe his memory correctly? And what's with that weird smell?) He rubs his nose.

Mugman watches him, concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Cuphead mutters. “I just need to go to the casino… again.”

Mugman frowns. “Huh? Why?”

“I’ll tell you later—unless you wanna come with me.”

Mugman hesitates, then nods. “Mmm… I’ll go with you.” Cuphead glances at him, his expression unreadable. Without another word, he keeps walking.

(Que this scene where they report to The Devil about Bendy being immune to memory wiping)

"Sir, I've come to report something." [Kneeling]

"What is it?"

"There's someone i met that's immune to memory wiping."

"..."

"Is that so..."

(Thus, The Devil orders Cuphead to keep an eye on Bendy and to report back if anything happens.)

Scene 12

Cuphead (bat form) climbs through the crack of the window in the kitchen. He hops to the ground and transforms back into his toon form. He dusts himself off and then looks up. Unexpectedly Bendy was in the doorway and saw everything.

(Que a funny nervous Bendy stares and throws a mug at Cuphead.)

Bendy runs to his couch and starts his spiel.

"What are you doing in my house!? Are you going to kill me!? You're a vampire! Aren't you supposed to stay out of houses unless you're invited!? Or something!?

"Huh?"

"Wait a minute, vampires have other weaknesses! I think I have a few things!"

Bendy runs out of the room, and Cuphead is left in confusion.

"Okay...this is weird." -sigh-

Bendy comes in and out with various "vampire deterrents"

"Garlic!?"

"No"

"A cross!?"

"Nope"

"A stake!?" (It's a twig)

"Na-da"

"Sunlight!?" (Its a flashlight.)

"Did you forget you saw me at the café?"

[morgana-larkin]

Alright, the anticipated chapter 4 of ‘Just Tired’! All of youse were very excited for this chapter so I hope it delivers what you want. Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Just Tired - Part 4

Warnings: Manipulative relationship, swearing

Words: 3.9k

Melissa is putting dinner on the plates when Joe gets home. He walks into the kitchen and gives her a kiss before getting a beer from the fridge.

“Guess what? A couple friends are coming with us to the bar tomorrow to watch the game with us.” Joe says with a smile.

“It couldn’t have been just us?” Melissa asks him.

“Course not, watching the cowboys get their asses whooped is better with other people there with you.” Joe tells her and she hands him one of the plates.

“I guess.” Melissa tells him as they make it to the table and they start eating. “Oh, I’m getting a dyslexic kid in my class this year. I’m gonna be able to help a little girl the same way I was helped.” She excitedly tells him.

“Cool.” He tells her, completely disinterested. Melissa’s smile immediately turns into a frown and she just continues eating.

Melissa wakes up the next morning around 7 and she gets up and gets ready for the day. She’s writing a grocery list while eating some scrambled eggs and bacon when Joe comes down.

“So I was thinking we can head to the bar for 6.” He tells her and she nods.

“Sounds good.” She says and continues eating.

They get through the weekly chores and groceries before Melissa hops in the shower around 3. She puts on her jersey, and then she goes downstairs and goes to reheat the leftovers while Joe is finishing up getting ready. They both eat and then head to the bar and they get there just after 6. They order two beers and then his friends show up. Melissa decides to just sit in a booth alone while watching the game. 20 minutes into the game she orders another beer.

“Melissa?” She hears and turns around to see you there, wearing an Eagles jersey.

“Hey Y/n.” She says and then turns to the bartender and orders another beer. “Are you here to watch the game as well?” She asks and you nod.

“I came with a…sort of friend… but she’s currently making out with a man right now.” You say and point to them.

“I came here with Joe and he invited his friends.” She tells you and you look to see Joe there, having a drink and having fun with his friends.

“And you look like you’re having fun being here.” You tell her playfully and she smiles and then takes a sip. “Can I get some nachos please?” You ask the bartender and he nods before getting your order. “Thank you.” You say as you get your order and pay. “Want some?” You ask Melissa and she smiles before taking a chip. You hear some cheering happening and see the Eagles scored another touchdown.

“So what makes that girl a sort of friend?” Melissa asks you.

“I went on a date with her two months ago, there was zero connection, and to be nice I said we could be friends. And many people say this but don’t actually mean it. So I was surprised when she just randomly asked me if I wanted to come here today to watch the game. I hope she just forgets about me after today.” You explain and she nods as she takes another chip.

“Melissa, did you see that touchdown!?!?” Melissa hears and Joe comes up to her.

“Ya, of course I saw it.” She says and fakes a smile.

“Who are you?” Joe asks you as he sees that you and Melissa were talking.

“I’m Y/n, I’m Melissa's coworker.” You tell him politely.

“Melissa has never mentioned a coworker named Y/n.” He says as he looks between you and Melissa.

“Well it’s my first year there, I teach second grade as well.” You explain.

“Melissa, you don’t talk to newbies.”

“We teach the same grade, Joe, I’m gonna have to talk to her sometimes.” She tells him. Joe looks at you and you seem to be looking at Melissa with a smile while Melissa is taking a sip of her beer. He then gets Melissa to turn around and he kisses her on the lips and you look down, disappointed. “You never kissed me in public before.” She says to him and he shrugs.

“Felt like it.” He says. “By the way, one of the guys suggested that the next game could be at our house.” He says. “I think that’s a great idea so I said yes.”

“What? No. Why does it have to be at our place?” She asks.

“Come on, don’t be so controlling.” He says.

“I’m not, but you didn’t ask me first if I’m ok with that.” She tells him and then Melissa sees you watching out of the corner of her eye. “Alright, I’m sorry.” She says and then he gives her a kiss before going back to his friends. You see Melissa let out a sigh and you order 2 shots of vodka.

“Here. Looks like you need it.” You say as you hand her one. She looks at you and you offer her a smile before she takes it, cheers with you and then takes the shot.

“Thanks.” She says softly.

“He seems nice.” You tell her sarcastically and she looks down. “Why did you apologise?”

“Because I told him no and I shouldn’t have.” She says.

“You didn’t do anything wrong though, you didn’t need to apologise. He agreed to have it at your house without asking you first, you have a right to say no.” You tell her sternly and she looks at you and sighs.

She then orders 2 more shots and gives you one. You both take the shot and then you continue eating the nachos as you occasionally sip your alcoholic drink. An hour later and you order another pair of shots for you as you see her keep looking at Joe with sad eyes.

“Hey, forget him for now. He brought his friends with him and isn’t thinking about you right now.” You tell her bluntly and hand her the shot and she cheers with you before quickly taking the shot.

“You know, you’re more fun than I thought you’d be.” She tells you, slurring a bit.

“Really? I think I’m quite fun, even at school. I mean I don’t take anything seriously, you said so yourself.” You tell her and she chuckles. You then order more nachos and some water to help balance out the alcohol. “You know I still don’t know what you see in him, I still think he’s an ass.” You tell her and she shrugs.

“I fell in love with him, simple as that.” She says and you nod.

“Do you still love him?” You suddenly ask with the help of liquid courage.

“Of course I do, I-if I didn’t love him then I wouldn’t be with him.” She tells you, and it sounds like she’s trying to convince herself more than you. The Eagles then score another touchdown and Melissa sees Joe high-fiving his friends and cheering. You feel bad for her in that moment and without thinking, you grab a hold of her hand. She immediately gasps and pulls her hand back and looks at you confused. “What was that for?” She asks you, she isn’t angry, just confused.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I just feel bad that your husband is having fun with his friends and leaving you alone.” You tell her and she looks down.

“I don’t get much physical touch, or apologies.” She tells you while still looking down.

“What? He’s able to resist keeping his hands off of you?” You ask her, surprised and confused. “If I had a girl as hot as you then I wouldn’t be able to stop touching her.” You tell her and she looks up at you and sees you’re being genuine.

“Thank you.” She tells you softly and you nod with a smile. You both don’t notice that Joe is watching the interaction and furrows his eyebrows.

The game ends a couple hours later and you can tell Melissa is tipsy, maybe even drunk from about 5 beers and 3 vodka shots.

“Ready to go Mel?” Joe asks her and Melissa looks at you with a smile.

“I had fun, I’ll see you Monday.” She tells you and you nod.

“See you Monday, Melissa.” You say and smile back at her. You watch as her and Joe walk out and you see Joe squeeze her ass and you give a disgusted face at Joe being like that to her in public.

Melissa and Joe get home and Melissa stumbles a bit into him as she giggles. He then pushes her up against the door.

“Oof.” Melissa says and grabs onto his arms.

“Were you flirting with that girl?” He asks her and she looks at him.

“Who?”

“Y/n.” He simply says and she shakes her head.

“No, we were just hanging out.” She says and gets close to his face. Joe then picks her up and gets her to put her legs around him. He then kisses her roughly and she lets out a squeak before wrapping her arms around him. He then brings her into the bedroom while stripping her clothes off.

Melissa spends Sunday morning with a slight hangover and then she goes downstairs around noon when she doesn’t feel like the sun is blasting in her eyes.

“I see you’re alive.” Joe tells her a bit loud and she groans.

“Not so loud please.” She tells him and he chuckles.

“You drank quite a bit with that new teacher.” He tells her.

“Ya, we had a couple shots.” She says and sits down on the couch beside him.

“Do you remember everything that happened yesterday?” He asks her and she nods.

“Of course, from the moment we got there right up until we had sex.” She tells him and he nods.

On Monday, you pull up to her place on your bike and you put it in the backyard before knocking on her door.

“Hey Y/n.” She says with a smile and swings her keys around her finger as she walks up to her car.

“You look good.” You tell her as you see a low cut pink top and leather pants.

“Thanks.” She says and both of you get in the car. She decides to listen to music today and you watch as she sings along happily.

“You’re in a good mood today.” You tell her.

“I get to meet my little eagles today.” She tells you and you smile.

“Of course you call them little eagles.” You say and she winks at you before turning the music up and you both sing along. You pull up to the parking lot and you already see some students waiting outside.

“They only show up early on the first day.” She tells you and you nod before walking up to them. About 15 minutes later, you’re talking to Janine and Jacob when someone calls out your name.

“Looking for a Ms. Y/l/n.” This man says and you think he works in the front office.

“Yes? That’s me.” You say and he looks at you before telling 4 kids that you’re their teacher. “Hey kiddos. I’m Ms. Y/l/n and I’m going to be your teacher this year.” You tell them with a big smile and you don’t notice Melissa staring at you. “You know, for me, second grade was much better than first grade.” You tell them and then 3 other kids are brought to you.

“Hello my little eagles.” You hear Melissa say and you look at her. “I think I’ve seen some of you here since kindergarten.” She tells them. Melissa then checks her list and sees that she’s got all her students. “Alright my little eagles, ready to see the classroom and pick your seats?” She asks them and they nod before she goes inside and she passes you by and smiles at you.

You get 13 more students handed to you and then you see you got all 20 of your students.

“Alright, line up and let’s get inside and in the air conditioning.” You tell your students and they line up. You bring them inside and lead them to the classroom. “Alright, and this will be your classroom for the year.” You say and they go inside. “Pick whatever seat you want.” You tell them and they all pick a seat. “I’m just going to do attendance first to be absolutely sure.” You tell them and then start going through the names. You go through all of them and realise you’re missing one but you have 20 names on the list and 20 students. “Who did I not call out?” You ask and you see a student raise their hand. “And what’s your name?”

“Amaya.” She says and you check your list and don’t see her there.

“Well it’s lovely to meet you but I don’t think you’re supposed to be in my class.” You tell her and she shakes her head. “Do you know where you’re supposed to be?” You ask her.

“In Mrs. Schemmenti’s class.” She says and looks down.

“Why are you sad about that? Mrs. Schemmenti is an amazing teacher and person.”

“My friend isn’t in her class.” She tells you and she points to her friend.

“I’m sorry about that but I do have to bring you back.” You tell her and then step out of your classroom for a second. “Mr Johnson, perfect, can you watch my class for a minute, I need to bring one to Mrs. Schemmenti’s class.” You tell him and he nods before you go back into your classroom. “Ok Amaya, let’s go.” You say and she walks up to you and she takes your hand. You walk across the hall to Melissa’s classroom and you knock on the door. Melissa opens it a few seconds later and smiles when she sees you.

“Ms. Y/l/n, I was just about to come see you. I have one of your students.” She tells you.

“What a coincidence cause I have one of yours. This is Amaya.” You tell her and she looks at her.

“Welcome to my class Amaya, why don’t you go find an empty seat. Gracie can you come up here with your things?” She tells one of the students. Amaya goes to take a seat and Melissa looks at you. “It’s not a coincidence, the two of them agreed on a swap to be with their friends.” She tells you and you hum.

“I wonder why I never thought to do that when I was their age.” You tell her and she snorts, then a young girl comes up to you both.

“Gracie, this is Y/l/n, your teacher this year.” She tells the student and Gracie looks at you.

“Sorry about swapping places on you.” She tells you both.

“That’s alright but we gotta go to the classroom, I left the janitor in charge.” You tell the student and then you grab her hand. “See you later Ms. Schemmenti.” You tell her and then walk back to your class. “Alright Gracie, go and find your seat.” You tell her and she finds the empty desk and sits down. “Alright class, how about we start by going around the room and saying your name? I’ll start. My name is Y/n Y/l/, but you can call me Ms. Y/l/n.” You tell them and you miss Melissa glancing at you while interacting with your students.

You get your class to line up a few hours later so you can bring them to the caf for lunch. You and Melissa end up bringing them at the same time so you both just walk your classes together.

“How was your morning newbie?” She asks you as you both walk to the caf with your classes.

“Good so far. Did a few welcome games, did some drawings and even story time.” You tell her and she smiles.

“That’s good.” She says and you both reach the caf and drop your students off. You make sure that everyone has a lunch before you and Melissa both head to the lounge.

“You know we did a couple of name games and I still can’t remember anyone’s name.” You tell her and she chuckles.

“Give it a week or two of having to tell people to quiet down and you’ll know everyone’s names.” She says and you smile.

“Good to know. How was your morning?” You ask her.

“Kids are so excited to see their friends again and not too keen on paying attention. So it’s been good.” She says and smiles. “By the way, I wanted to thank you for showing me a good time on Saturday.” She tells you and you shrug.

“You know I shouldn’t have had to. Your husband should have included you since you went together.” You tell her and she hums.

“Well whether he should have or not, I appreciate that you did.” She tells you and you nod.

“Anytime.”

“Careful, or I might take you up on that.” She says playfully as you reach the break room.

“Well it’s good that I really do mean it then.” You say and she chuckles. You both enter the break room and everyone stares at the fact that you both seem to be having, not just a civil conversation, but a playful one.

“How on earth did you make friends with Melissa in a week?” Jacob asks as you sit down.

“Not friends, just acquaintances.” You say and turn to Melissa. “Actually, is it safe to call you an acquaintance, Melissa?” You ask her and she turns to look at you and thinks about it.

“I mean you do know my favourite colour so ya, I guess you could call us that.” She tells you with a smile before turning back around and talks with Barb.

Everyone gets up to go get their class as lunchtime is ending and you and Melissa end up walking beside each other.

“So any plans for the afternoon with your class?” You ask her.

“Yep, I’m going to give them a paper of animals and get them to name them.” She tells you.

“Awww, that sounds cute. I loved learning about all the animals in school.” You tell her and she shakes her head at you.

“You really are an enigma.” She says and you shrug.

“I did warn you about that.” You say as you both reach your classes outside. “Ok class, we’re gonna be spelling numbers and then we’ll play a game after.” You tell them and they cheer at the game part. “Amaya, back to Schemmenti’s class.” You tell her as you see her sneaking in your line with her friend.

“Nice catch.” Melissa says to you before she brings her class inside and you smile.

At the end of the day, you’re helping a student with their laces and then stand up and their mother comes up to get them.

“Sorry about that, still teaching him laces. Probably should have gotten Velcro.” She tells you and you smile.

“Not a problem, he’s gotta learn sometime right?” You say and the parent smiles and nods.

“I suppose so.” She says.

“My name is Janice, and I guess you're my son’s teacher.” She says and you shake her head.

“That I am, I’m Ms. Y/l/n.” You say and then say goodbye to your student and him and the parent leaves.

“Wow, you seem to just catch everyone’s attention.” Melissa says from her door frame.

“Must be my awkward personality.” You say and she chuckles.

“Must be.” She says and says goodbye to the last student. She then goes to grab her things and locks her door before turning towards you. “Ready to go?” She asks and you nod.

“Yep.” You say as you lock your door.

“So how do you feel after your first day?” She asks you.

“I feel great. My students are amazing and completely adorable. And I seem to have caught my coworker’s attention enough that she considers us acquaintances.” You tell her and she giggles.

“Well you met my husband and you know my favourite colour, isn’t that acquaintance status information?” She says and you laugh.

“I guess so.” You tell her as you reach the parking lot. You turn to look at her at the same time she does and you both lock eyes and you see a certain shine in them that you haven’t before. “I love the colour of your eyes.” You say in a complete trance and her breath hitches. You then snap out of your trance just as quickly as you entered it and realise what you said. “Oh god, I’m so sorry. I don’t know where that came from. I mean, you do have beautiful eyes but… I’m just digging a bigger hole for myself.” You ramble and Melissa just laughs.

“You’re adorable.” She says and she unlocks the car and doesn’t realise the effect she has on you when she said that to you. “Thank you for the compliment.” She adds as you both get in.

“Well you’re very easy to compliment.” You say and she looks at you and sees you’re being genuine.

“Why do you give me lots of compliments?” She asks you with a tilt of her head.

“Because I want to.” You simply say and she looks at you. “And with the way you look, you have definitely earned them.” You add and you miss the blush on her face as she turns to face the road. Melissa drives you both to her place and you go and get your bike. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” You tell her as you put your helmet on. “And I will survive this year and come back next year.” You say with a smile.

“We’ll see about that.” She tells you and you walk up to her as an idea pops in your head.

“Well how about we make a bet?” You ask her and she quirks an eyebrow at you.

“Well you certainly have my attention.” She says.

“That was about as far as I got. I honestly didn’t know if you’d agree to it.” You tell her and she chuckles.

“I never pass up a bet.” She tells you as she’s leaning on her car. “How about if you don’t come back next year or don’t survive the year then you take me to a candy store and I can get whatever I want.” She tells you and think about it.

“Ok sounds good. But if I win then I get to film you saying that I was right and you were wrong and also seal it with a kiss on the cheek.” You tell her and you hold your hand out. You see her think about it for a second before shaking your hand, sealing the bet.

“Deal.” She says and you wink at her before turning around and walk to your bike. You glance at her before getting on your bike and bike to your place.

Melissa watches as you get further and further away before she lets out a sigh. She then feels a slight happiness near her heart, one that she hasn’t felt in a long time. She lets out a breath after she realises what the feeling is and then looks at where you just were a minute ago. “Fuck.”

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[celerydays]

long time no see…

Hey, hi, hello~

I don't know if anyone is still around this little blog o' mine or if I'm just showing up suddenly on the dash and whoever is seeing this might not recall ever even following me lol.

But – whether you remember me or not – I'm just dropping by to say that...I've missed you and that I truly hope you're doing well 🫂💗

I...have not been doing so well. But I've been working on it.

In a way, it's been healing to reshape my approach to things like journaling and capturing photos. I've been taking the time to develop a practice in documenting daily life – the people I care about, the places we visit, and all the random little moments in between – with more intentionality and care than I have in recent years.

(tw: grief and loss/death under cut)

I lost my mom very suddenly last November – and things have been unbearably hard the last few months.

In a lot of ways, 2024 was one of the best years: my partner and I traveled to Japan for the first time ever, my family had a small reunion in our hometown to watch the total solar eclipse together, my best friends got married, and we went on so many amazing trips and had the type of outings that made me so inspired, optimistic, and excited about life and the future.

But in so many other ways, it was also one of the worst years I've had in a long time: starting with a hard-learned (but perhaps overdue) firsthand lesson and reminder on how scary and mean the internet can be, followed by losing both my grandfather in the spring and then my mother just before the winter holidays.

I'm not particularly good when it comes to emotions– forget about even processing grief or putting into any sort of meaningful words how it all feels. But I guess all of this has made me shift my mindset when it comes to wanting to just...remember. To not forget.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

On documenting life through journaling...

I had always journaled in some way or another all my life, but I only really started considering it a serious practice and hobby sometime around 2020. But I had lost my way with it in recent years, treating it solely as some kind of aesthetic-only venture, and only dedicating the time if I knew that I could make it "pretty" and "palatable for sharing".

And so, many entries were missed; days and weeks lost to fuzzy recollection, months bled into each other, and little moments only existed as vague and passing snapshots on my phone gallery (if I even remembered to take a photo).

But I now wish I had just written it down; whatever it was – big, small, angry, funny, sad, happy – just wrote it all down. It didn't have to be an aesthetically collaged spread or artful doodle or drawing. I wish I had documented some of the last times I had seen or spoken with my mother; what she had said, did, or how she reacted to silly news or quips I told her. I barely remember anything even just from the last year.

So now I write it all down, day after day: I'll write what's on my mind, what we did before, what I'm doing currently, what I'm planning to do. If someone calls or my partner walks in to my studio while I'm working and tells me something that has me reacting in the moment I'll jot down a little "omg!!" or "lol" or "holy shit" next to whatever they said or did.

If I get little scraps from the day – receipts, tags, tickets, wrappers – I'll paste it in wherever it happens to fit in my journal, with a little note of the date or what the outing was. And every so often, I'll print out photos to paste in with notes relating back to past entries or junk journal spreads.

Is always pretty? No, but it's pretty in its chaos. Is it always even chronological? Not at all, but I've embraced the organic nature of pages and dates that sort of jump around, just as long it gets recorded. Does it always make sense? Not really, but it makes sense to me and that's really all that matters. And I love every page so, so much more than anything I had carefully curated before in my previous journals.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

On documenting life through photos...

I had once carried a camera with me everywhere before phone cameras became decent enough that I didn't feel the need to have a dedicated tool for just taking pictures anymore.

It wasn't until we were all looking through our collective family photos to use for my mother's memorial service and headstone that it hit me that I just don't take as many pictures as I used to– and even when I did, they just don't compare to the ones that I took years ago when I did carry a camera with me on every outing and trip.

We ended up choosing a photo of her that I had taken on my once-beloved dSLR camera I used to haul around with me almost 10 years ago; she was smiling, strong, radiant, beautiful– and it was just a random moment I took my camera out in a Taiwan hair salon while she was waiting for me and my sister to get our hair done for our cousin's wedding.

A bit indescribable – and not even something I realized was missing – but there's something about having an actual camera on hand that pushes me to take more photos, and somehow better and more mindful photos at that.

And so I made the decision to invest in a new camera. An absolute necessity to take photos? No, of course not; I do still have my phone camera after all. But they say (apparently) that "the best camera is the one that you actually use"– and I was most definitely not using my phone as much as I could have been.

This new camera though? Only time will truly tell, but the past has shown that I've worked better with a dedicated camera on hand and already I can't begin to explain the difference it's made in the last week alone since I picked up the habit of carrying a camera around with me again.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

This was a crazy long post that sort of got away from me. Not sure where I want to go from here – I guess I just want to say that if you ever felt called to document your life in some way, it's never too late to start; you'll only wish that you had begun sooner.

If you're still here– I love you. I hope you're taking care of yourself.

And thank you for reading along with my incredibly longwinded life update of what was essentially just "I'm grieving so I started journaling more and also bought a camera" lol.

💗

[positively-knotted]

Fuck it, full list + review:

First year

Linear Algebra: easy, boring.

Group theory: marginally harder, significantly more interesting.

Real analysis: one of the hardest, but only because you do it right at the start. Really one you only appreciate once it's over.

Probability: I really enjoyed this actually - not too hard if you're ok at analysis.

Statistics: it's like they took probability and took out the interesting parts.

Intro calculus: mostly very very boring, but some neat problems I guess. Also badly named, this means intro to differential equations.

Multivariable calculus: honestly one of the easiest courses I've taken. Slightly more interesting than intro.

Fourier analysis: terrible course, only taught for applied people. Everyone else should be allowed to wait until they've done functional analysis.

Geometry: mostly linear algebra tbh, with some random calculus problems thrown in. Fine, but felt very thrown together.

Dynamics. This was the hardest course I ever took. Wtf was happening. How did I get a first in this. I had no idea what I was meant to do at any point.

Algorithms: can you learn an algorithm and apply it by hand? Then you can pass this course!

Second year:

More linear algebra: Spectral theorem is useful, otherwise by far the easiest second year course.

Ring theory: vital for any pure mathematician. The course was very hard, but mostly because the lecturer was the kind of person to define a subring as "an injective morphism" to second years. Modules are cool tho.

Complex analysis: also very very hard, but mostly because it was badly taught. I see why people like it; I didn't.

Measure theory: the end of real analysis! Nice to finally define an integral, and definitely nicer arguments than other analysis courses. Overall fun if tricky.

Metric spaces: sick. It was taught by Ben Green. Need I say more?

Topology: I am doing a PhD in topology, so very biased. You spend a lot of time doing fairly boring analysis-y stuff, but the payoff is great.

More differential equations: this was fantastically taught and actually very fun, although partly because I was good at it. That said, actually solving the damn things wasn't always that fun compared to the theory.

More probability: Markov chains are cool and also just easier than everyone thinks they're going to be? Ended up being my best second year exam somehow lol, but fairly mid-tier for interest.

More statistics: I only took this because I felt I should know Bayesian stats. I have forgotten Bayesian stats.

Quantum theory: did you know that everything is a Hilbert space? And do you know your trig identities? If yes, you might like this course! More seriously, this is just "intro to Lie algebra representation theory" but they don't tell you that.

Short courses (more group theory, number theory, projective geometry, multivariable analysis): these courses were badly designed so no comment

Third year

Representation theory: sick. Do this. It's just algebra but done better.

Commutative algebra: ill. is how I felt. Don't do this. Well do it's very important in pure maths but make sure you find a good teacher. You probably should do it though I guess.

Galois theory: everyone interested in pure maths should do this, but personally I hated it. I do not care sufficiently about polynomials.

Algebraic number theory: if you care about numbers, this is cool. I found it fairly easy/boring since it wasn't aimed at people who'd done as much algebra as I had, but was nice to see.

Surfaces: a weird sort of intro to classical differential geometry, focusing on smooth surfaces and Riemann surfaces. It was nice and very easy, but the course was very weirdly designed imo. Other unis also seem to have similar courses though, which confuses me, since I feel it makes more sense to just teach general manifolds then Riemannian geometry, and use surfaces as simple examples throughout.

Algebraic curves: massive overlap with surfaces since both needed Riemann surfaces but neither was a prereq for the other. Then also covered all of projective geom, and rushed through the interesting stuff. Having now relearnt it though, it's super cool and I would recommend to everyone pure or not.

Baby AlgTop: basically Ch0+1 of Hatcher, dealing with cell complexes and the fundamental group. Everyone should know what the fundamental group is, but tbh I don't think everyone needs to sit through a course that proves the simplicial approximation theorem.

Functional Analysis: quite easy if you have finally internalised the lessons that undergrad analysis was trying to teach you, very hard if not. Basically did everything you've already seen more generally, imo should be compulsory.

More Functional Analysis: this time it's topology! Seriously though. Do it if you like topology, otherwise just trust people.

More quantum theory: this time it was "intro to Lie group representation theory". Then it became perturbation theory and I stopped going.

Master's year:

All of these reviews will be useless because the masters I did was weird.

Homological algebra: why was this taught before category theory??? Useful tool, but a hard course. Especially before category theory.

Category theory: should be compulsory for pure mathematicians. Also should be an undergrad course, since all my other masters courses assumed you knew basic category theory. (And so did some 3rd year algebra courses).

Algebraic geometry: I dropped it after 3 lectures bc the lecturer was bad. But if you have a good lecturer, maybe it might not be? Im unconvinced.

Proper Algebraic topology: the classic course covering Ch2+3 of Hatcher. If you like pictures and sign errors you should do it. If not, you probably still should.

Manifolds: this could also be an undergrad course tbh. Do you love vector bundles? You should love vector bundles. I love vector bundles. De Rham cohomology is underwhelming though, sorry @lipshits-continuous.

Lie groups: I think there is no good way to teach Lie groups to geometers. At least to me. I have absolutely no idea how I got 70% in this exam I did not deserve it.

Riemannian geometry: my best exam ever I think, somehow. It's kinda just analysis, except for geometers so there's much more handwaving and fewer δs. It's pretty boring at points, but the interplay between topology and curvature is fascinating imo.

Low-dimensional topology: this is now my PhD, but also the course was atrocious. Do with that what you will.

Uhh that was a good use of time while I waited for my rice to cook

Math enthusiasts of tumblr. What math subjects have you studied and which ones were your favorite? Which ones were your least favorite? Which ones were the hardest?

[traincat]

So @softgrungeprophet just posted about John Jameson/Peter Parker, a thing I have nothing for, but it did remind me that I had a Spideytorch WIP where Jonah tries to set John and Peter up and so Peter comes up with the brilliant idea of fake dating Johnny to get out of it, only for John and Johnny to start dating, a thing which will obviously not drive Peter mad with jealousy. Ft my not remotely in order writing practices.

Anyway I don't know when I'll finish it so have a thousand words of people making bad decisions.

--

It was a regular Friday afternoon and Johnny, free of all social and superhero responsibilities, was just trying to relax and maybe catch up on a week’s worth of reality television when a full-grown man hit the side of the Baxter Building going eighty miles an hour.

“Did I scare you? Sorry,” Peter said, not sounding very sorry at all, as he climbed gracefully through the window.

“Of course you scared me! Not everyone has a built in magic spider danger sense!” Johnny said. He looked down at the carpet and the new red footprints there and made a face. “No, it’s fine, track what had better be paint all over my apartment.”

“Thanks, Torchy,” Peter said, as if Johnny had been in any way sincere. “Don’t worry, Reed’s little robot friends will steam clean that right out. Listen, I’ve got a favor to ask you.”

With friends like these, who needed Doctor Doom.

(blah blah blah)

“I just need you to pretend to be in a relationship with me,” Peter said. “For one, two months, tops. Or however long Jonah has left on this earth. Either or.”

(blah blah blah)

“Look, here’s the deal,” Peter said, rolling his eyes, “and don’t ask how this happened, but I accidentally told JJJ I’m bisexual and –”

“Wait, you did what?” Johnny cut him off. His voice was dangerously high even to his own ears. “You’re what?”

“I just told you it was an accident,” Peter said, still in that tone like it was no big deal and he accidentally came out to major newspaper publishers every other week. For all Johnny knew, maybe he did. For all Johnny knew maybe he put on a rainbow spider-suit and shouted it from the top of the Empire State Building every single Friday Johnny had ever been off-planet.

“How do you accidentally tell your former boss you’re bisexual?” Johnny demanded. Then, his own voice somehow rising even shriller, he added, “You haven’t told me you’re bisexual!”

Peter shot him a look that said that he was pretty sure he just had. As if Johnny wasn’t sitting right in front of him, currently losing his mind.

“The bad news, apparently John Jameson came out to his dad a few months ago,” Peter said.

“That’s the bad news,” Johnny said, his voice both flat and scathing in a way no acting coach he’d ever had would believe he was capable of. “Really.”

“Well, good for John, I guess,” Peter allowed, making a face like he wasn’t quite about all of that. Johnny was going to smother him by the end of this conversation, probably. “But bad for me. Because now Jonah wants to set us up.”

There was a strange static-y sound ringing in Johnny’s ears, like someone had scrambled all his frequencies.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Could you rewind? Maybe to the beginning of this conversation?”

“You’re not listening to me, Johnny,” Peter said. “Jonah basically implied that John and I should get married. The other day I caught him looking at brochures for catering halls out on Long Island. And look, John’s a great guy, but –”

“Great,” Johnny said, his face in his hands. “Fantastic. I’ll send you two a fantasti-toaster.”

“But he’s not my type at all,” Peter said. He reached over and closed his fingers around Johnny’s wrist, tugging his hand effortlessly away from his face and leaving Johnny no choice but to look up into that big brown imploring eyes. “Now, She-Hulk, on the other hand…”

A strangled noise of rage tore itself from Johnny’s throat.

(Peter asks Johnny to be his fake boyfriend to some Bugle event)

--

(Bugle event, Jonah awkwardly talks to Johnny and says something mildly homophobic in an incredibly well meaning way.)

“That’s very… something of you, Mr. Jameson,” Johnny said.

“My daughter Mattie bought me a book,” Jameson admitted.

(blah blah Peter runs off and John and Johnny talk on a balcony)

“You know, that’s the thing about Parker,” John Jameson said, his voice light and casual. “Every time I’ve ever seen him he’s had some beautiful model hanging off his arm.”

Johnny snorted, thinking of the Black Cat, and Mary Jane, and even Carlie Cooper with her whole hot librarian vibe. Dorrie Evans, the prettiest girl in Johnny’s high school, talking Johnny’s ear off on a half dozen of their dates about how Peter Parker was so smart and how he was interested in politics and an inch taller than Johnny and probably much more in touch with his feelings. Yeah, right.

“Tell me about it,” he said. “They should ban him from fashion week for the models’ own good.”

They probably already had. Johnny would have to ask.

“No, I meant…” John trailed off. He smiled ruefully, shaking his head. “Never mind.”

“I’m sorry,” Johnny said, realizing he’d cut John off. “What were you saying?”

“I was complimenting you,” John said, his eyes twinkling. “What I said about Parker and beautiful models – I meant you.”

“Oh,” Johnny said, floored. He felt strangely like blushing, but that was silly. Johnny was a famous space explorer. It was hardly the first time a handsome astronaut had called him beautiful.

It was, perhaps, the first time it had happened to him on earth. And the first time it had happened outside of a hostage situation. And the first time Ben hadn’t been there to threaten to beat the astronaut up.

“You are here with Peter Parker, aren’t you?” John asked. “As his date, I mean.”

“Allegedly,” Johnny said. He’d meant it to come out under his breath, but it didn’t, and he suspected his eyeroll wasn’t quite as internal as he’d intended either. John laughed, but not unkindly.

“He does have a habit of disappearing, doesn’t he?” John said lightly. “I get it, though, as the son of a newsman. The number of dinners my father actually made it to the main course without rushing off to take a call or chase a story...” He trailed off, sighing ruefully, the corners of his mouth quirked up. “That must be why they get along so well.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” Johnny asked, feeling emboldened, maybe, by the way John was looking at him, by the fact that he had called him beautiful.

He definitely wasn’t feeling spiteful over the fact that he was supposed to be here with Peter and Peter had, of course, ditched him, caught up in fifteen other different things, just like always. Things that were more important than Johnny. Things that Johnny could have helped with, maybe, if Peter had asked.

Or maybe things Johnny couldn’t have helped with. After all there were plenty of reasons he might have found Peter’s shirt abandoned in the corner of the men’s room. Things that might have everything to do with, say, the Black Cat instead of Doctor Octopus. 

“Of course,” John said. His hand landed next to Johnny’s on the balcony railing. “You can tell me anything.”

(Johnny admits Peter only brought him as his date to get Jonah to quit it.)

“My father does have that way about him,” John said ruefully. “He’s trying to be very supportive. My foster sister bought him a book. He said he’s thinking about starting a podcast.”

“Elderly Bugle subscribers, watch out,” Johnny said before he could stop himself. Luckily for him, John laughed.

[John kisses Johnny at some fancy event]

--

So now Johnny was a homewrecker. Either of his fake relationship, or of Peter’s future Daily Bugle society page wedding to John Jameson, certified American hero. He wasn’t sure which was worse.

--

Johnny stared at Jonah. Jonah stared at Johnny.

John tucked into his steak like he wasn’t sitting in the middle of the world’s most awkward dinner. Johnny guessed he must have had experience getting through dinners with J Jonah Jameson, but he could have taken a little pity on Johnny, a novice.

(And then somewhere in here Peter would have gone insane.)

[inkspiredwriting]

Candlelight Confessions

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

The sudden flicker and then the complete darkness caught Five Hargreeves and Y/n off guard as they were finishing dinner in their cozy home. The hum of the refrigerator died, and the glow of the overhead lights vanished, leaving them in a silence only broken by the rustling of leaves outside and the distant roll of thunder.

Five groaned softly, running a hand through his hair. “Looks like the storm knocked the power out.”

Y/n, her eyes sparkling even in the dim light, shrugged playfully. “Well, it’s not the first time we’ve dealt with a blackout.”

Five smirked, reaching for a candle on the table. “When we ended up dancing together without music, just a room full of candles and the two of us.”

Y/n giggled, nodding. “Exactly. You have to admit, you’re quite the dancer when you want to be.”

As Five fumbled for the lighter, Y/n found her phone and used the flashlight to help him light the candles scattered around their home. Soon, a warm, flickering glow filled the room, casting long shadows on the walls and giving the space an intimate ambiance.

“See?” Y/n said, setting her phone down. “This is kind of romantic, don’t you think?”

Five grinned, pulling her into a hug. “Leave it to you to make a power outage romantic.”

They settled on the couch, a soft blanket draped over their laps, the candles flickering around them like tiny stars. Five glanced at the window, the rain tapping gently against the glass.

“So, what should we do to pass the time?” he asked, leaning back and stretching his legs out.

Y/n tilted her head, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. “How about we tell each other stories? Childhood memories, maybe. Things we haven’t shared before.”

Five raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “You want to dive into the nostalgia pool, huh? Alright, you start.”

Y/n smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Okay, let’s see. When I was six, my family took a trip to the beach. I remember building this huge sandcastle. I spent the entire day working on it, imagining it as a grand fortress.”

Five’s eyes softened as he watched her, captivated by the glow of the candlelight on her face. “What happened to the sandcastle?”

Y/n chuckled, shaking her head. “A big wave came and swept it all away. I was devastated at first, but then my dad helped me build another one. He said, ‘Sometimes things get washed away, but that just means you get to start fresh and make something even better.’”

Five nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “Your dad sounds like a wise man.”

“He is,” Y/n said softly. “Now it’s your turn. Tell me something from your childhood.”

Five sighed, leaning his head back and staring at the ceiling as he thought. “Alright. When I was around eight, before I got pulled into the apocalypse mess, I used to sneak into Reginald’s study. He had all these old books about time travel and science. I’d sit there for hours, just reading and imagining all the places I could go.”

Y/n’s eyes widened in surprise. “I didn’t know you were into time travel even back then.”

Five chuckled, nodding. “Yeah, I guess I was always fascinated by the idea of bending time to my will. But the funny part is, I once tried to build a time machine out of cardboard boxes and kitchen utensils. I was convinced it would work.”

Y/n laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “I wish I could’ve seen that. Did it work?”

Five shook his head, grinning. “Not even close. But it taught me to keep experimenting, to never give up on the things that intrigued me.”

They shared more stories, each memory painting a picture of who they were and how far they had come. As the evening wore on, the flickering candles casting a soft glow around them, they found themselves inching closer, the warmth of their shared history wrapping around them like a comforting embrace.

After a particularly funny story about Five trying to impress a girl at Griddy's Doughnuts with a poorly executed magic trick that Klaus had taught him, Y/n leaned in, her laughter fading into a tender smile. “You know, Five, I love hearing these stories about you. It makes me feel even closer to you.”

Five reached out, taking her hand in his, his thumb gently stroking her knuckles. “I feel the same way. It’s like we’re weaving our pasts together, creating something even stronger.”

Y/n’s eyes shimmered with emotion, and she squeezed his hand. “Promise me something, Five.”

“Anything,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Promise me that no matter what happens, we’ll always be there for each other. Through every blackout, every storm, every unexpected twist in our lives.”

Five’s gaze locked onto hers, a fierce determination burning in his eyes. “I promise, Y/n. I’ll always be there for you. I’ll love you through every moment, no matter how dark or challenging.”

Y/n’s smile was radiant, and she leaned in to kiss him softly, the warmth of his lips grounding her in the promise they had made. “And I promise to always stand by you, Five. No matter where time takes us.”

They sat in the quiet glow of the candlelight, their hands intertwined, feeling the strength of their bond deepen with every shared story and whispered promise. As the storm outside began to wane and the first hints of power flickered back to life, Five and Y/n remained on the couch, wrapped in the glow of their memories and the certainty of their love, ready to face every blackout together.

[pushspacetocontinue]

"Sounds good to me," Travis said with a small grin, "As your followers don't mind two possibly annoying Bostonians."

"Yes, I won't object to that myself," Simon said, "And I suppose you really are as annoying as two Bostonians, Travis, you're right."

"Hey!" Travis said, although he was chuckling a bit. Russell had to hide a small smile himself.

"And I am happy to be friends with him," Leofric said, with a brief nod, as he allowed Smokey to stay where he was, "I am just giving myself a refresher of what would be best to make for when we face him again."

As far as Leofric was concerned, another confrontation was inevitable. Russell shrugged.

"Well, it, it helps that, that I don't look, look like much," Russell said, tugging at a sleeve, before making his voice and stance were as firm as possible, "And so it's, it's pretty easy to, to pretend I'm some poor, poor scared little, little mouse, and, and he, he indeed fell, fell for it. If, if, if it hadn't been for, for those fuck-fucking sleep spores, I, I would have, I would have killed him. Would, would have kept going until he, he was just a red, a red puddle on, on the floor."

They didn't need to know that his whole plan was to injure Five and run while he could. Not now, if ever.

"It was better that you fled when you started feeling off or he might have killed you first while you were unconscious," Leofric said, keeping the act up for the time being.

"I, I sup, I suppose so," Russell said, before looking at the Twins, "Hm, I, I guess that's true. I, I still don't, don't have to like what, what happened at, at the time."

"Of course not," Bill agreed, before stepping back to allow the Twins some space so they could look closely, "Yes, I suppose it's a good thing that you two have some kind of conscience left, despite everything. Did I tell you that Five tortured Leofric too? Tortured a dog even though said dog wasn't posing a threat at the time?"

"We don't need to talk about that right now," Leofric just said, without looking up from his grimoire.

"Huh, it is kind of like Amnesia," Bill said, "And yeah, fuck him, I'm with you there, in the metaphorical sense of course."

Russell nodded as he started writing down the Twins' descriptions. Simon was typing too.

"That's why I, I didn't make him any, any offers," Russell said, "I, I got standards too."

"And when those three are done with him and got everyone they need out of his mouth," Travis said, "I'll make him wish I just killed him for the things he's done."

"You guys are going to join in next time I'm streaming that game." Rook said, pointing at Travis.

"Yes, he's okay. There's a lot of energy around here so he can leave me behind for a bit." Erica explained, "You'll figure him out. He wants to be friends, though."

Erica scratched her head. Maybe the fact Smokey was a ghost from another world made him more difficult to understand. Hopefully, his presence wasn't going to be an issue. It looked like Leofric was doing important work.

"It's good that you put up a real nice show-"

"-Five drank it all up."

Really, playing the helpless victim had been a genius move in retrospective, especially now that they knew that Russell wasn't just a regular guy with insanely good luck.

"We were close by because that's how you do the job right."

"You don't drag the hostage around the block in the middle of the day."

They were proud mercs, they did their job with the professionalism that was expected of them. The Twins chose to ignore Rook's skeptic look and got to pointing out the gadgets they had seen in action.

"These are the ones he used on Coffee Boss."

"And he used that to strangle some...monster. That one was kinda ugly."

"Good to know you've got a sensibility left to hurt." Rook snapped, moving the ring in question away from the rest, "It feels like I'm playing Amnesia again."

It only took a slight rotation for the ring to activate with a snap. Tommy wasn't wrong. Whoever got stuck in that would have two very sharp spikes digging into their flesh to hold it in place.

"Fuck that guy."

The Twins couldn't disagree with Rook there. Ratchet was just as messed up as Five.

[quintessenceofdust88]

Life is Changin' Tides, ch. 5 🌊

[Ch. 1]

[Ch. 2]

[Ch. 3]

[Ch. 4]

[Read on AO3]

"“Baby, why would I be going to Mr. Evan's house?” He asks, completely baffled.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to go to Evan Buckley’s house. It’s not like he hasn’t low-key stalked the man’s social media and the last three days and been even more charmed by what he saw. It’s not like he hasn’t thought about asking the other man out at least ten times since that day. “Because, Daddy, mr. Howie said you should, remember?” She tells him, and for once in his life Tommy curses her absurdly good memory. “He said you should check it if mr. Evan meant it or if he was just being silly!” --- Tommy has to make an important delivery. He gets to see Evan Buckley one more time. It doesn't go as either of them expects.

It’s been three days since the tsunami, and Tommy is finally ready to let Vivie out of his sight for more than ten minutes; they’ve spent pretty much all of their time at home as both her and Sal recover from it all, physically and emotionally. Sal’s been staying with them, and Tommy’s insisting he stays until his medical leave is over in a week.  

But now Tommy needs to go for his first shift since everything happened, and he’s pretty sure Sal is having a harder time with it than Vivie. While his daughter is happily lying on the floor, her socked feet swinging in the air as she colors a piece of paper, his best friend is eyeing Tommy warily from where he’s sitting on the couch, as he ties his shoes. 

“Tommy”, he mutters. “Are you sure you want to do this? You… I won’t be offended if you get a babysitter or take her to someone else, you know? I… I’d understand after…”

Tommy sighs; he’s tried to blow off every single apology Sal sent his way ever since the tsunami. They’re safe, and Vivie is completely fine, and Tommy doesn’t blame Sal for any of it. But that doesn’t mean Sal is convinced, and Tommy’s starting to think he’ll need an extra hand. 

“Vivie?” He calls. 

“Yeah?” She answers, still focused on her drawing. 

“Do you want Daddy to call someone else to take care of you while I work?” Tommy asks, and that makes her raise her head in alarm. 

“Why?! Is Uncle Sal not okay?! Are you feeling bad, uncle Sal?” She rushes to them, throwing herself in Sal’s lap. He wraps his arms around her, a sheepish smile on his face.

“I’m feeling fine, darlin’, don’t you worry about me.” He tells her, ruffling her hair, and she sighs in relief. “Do… you want me to take care of you?” Sal asks, sounding impossibly insecure, and Vivie glares at him in a way that’s eerily reminiscent of Tommy’s own bitchy expression. 

“Duh, uncle Sal, you’re my favorite uncle. You play the best games and you sing Barbie songs with me!” She tells him as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Tommy, in his defense, does his best not to look smug, but he doesn’t think he actually succeeds. As he finishes tying his shoes, he gets up, raising an eyebrow at Sal, who’s glaring at him.

“Well”, Tommy quips, grabbing his car keys. “I guess that settles the matter, doesn’t it? You guys have fun singing Barbie tunes as I go to work. You behave for your uncle, pixie, okay?”

He presses a kiss to Vivie’s forehead, half expecting her to say goodbye to him and cuddle up against Sal. What she does instead is gasp and scramble out of her uncle’s lap, rushing back to her paper. As she grabs it, a healthy amount of glitter falls on the floor, and Tommy doesn’t even want to think about the clean-up. He guesses he could ask Sal to take care of it, but it doesn't seem like a fair thing to the concussed guy. 

“Wait, Daddy!” She says, and then she shoves the card into his hand. “You have to take this!”

Tommy frowns, and looks down at the card. His cheeks instantly blush when he sees the wobbly ‘To Mr. Evan’ that’s written on the cover, along with a much neater ‘From: Genevieve’ (she’s only five, but she’s already a master at writing her own name, Tommy is proud to say). There’s a very glittery blue heart in the middle, and when Tommy opens the card to take a peak, he sees two sticky figures: Genevieve, holding Marsh, and a bigger one that can only be Evan based on the blue eyes and the small pinkmark drawn above one of them. 

“Vivie, that is so beautiful, pixie,” Tommy tells her, because he’s a firm believer in always praising his daughter for her efforts (actually he’s a firm believer in giving Genevieve everything he never had growing up, but that is neither her nor there). But he’s afraid he’ll have to burst her bubble at least a little bit. “But… you know Daddy is not going to see Mr. Evan, right? We don’t work together, sweetheart.”

Genevieve looks at him as if Tommy’s being particularly obtuse. He briefly thinks that, if she’s mastered this look by this point, he’s already praying for himself during her childhood. She crosses her little arms and huffs at him. 

“I know you don’t work together, Daddy, Mr. Evan works with Christopher’s daddy!” She tells him. “But you’re going to his house, aren’t you?”

Tommy looks at Sal, completely at loss, but his best friend is no help. Sal looks back at him with a shrug, clearly making an herculean effort to hold back his laughter, and Tommy glares at him before looking back at Tommy. 

“Baby, why would I be going to his house?” He asks, completely baffled. 

It’s not that he doesn’t want to go to Evan Buckley’s house. It’s not like he hasn’t low-key stalked the man’s social media and the last three days and been even more charmed by what he saw. It’s not like he hasn’t thought about asking the other man out at least ten times since that day.

But Tommy can’t, because he can’t hold Evan accountable for the things he said under the effect of exhaustion and painkillers. Tommy doesn’t know what scares him the most about bringing it up: Evan being honest and telling him that of course he didn’t mean it, he’s straight, what is Tommy even thinking (even though a straight man wouldn’t call Tommy gorgeous, not even on painkillers, but that’s not the point), or Evan being too polite to say that and date him out of a sense of obligation.

(The thought that maybe Evan did mean it never crosses his mind. But apparently it crosses Vivie’s.)

“Because, Daddy, mr. Howie said you should, remember?” She tells him, and for once in his life Tommy curses her absurdly good memory. “He said you should check it if mr. Evan meant it or if he was just being silly!”

“Wait, wait, silly about what? What did Buckley say?” Sal asks, his gossiper vein clearly showing, and Genevieve is answering before Tommy can stop her. 

“About wanting Daddy to ask him out!” She says, bouncing excitedly on her toes. “He said Daddy should, as a thank you, but Daddy said he didn’t mean it because he was too sleepy!”

Sal smirks like he has just won the lottery, and Tommy would strangle him if he wasn’t hurt. Tommy’s cheeks blush impossibly red, and he runs a hand through his face, wondering how he can tell his five-year-old to shut up without traumatizing her. 

“Did he, now? Isn’t that interesting?” Sal says, crossing his arms and smiling smugly at Tommy, who flips him off mentally. 

“It’s not, because he was under heavy painkillers and probably wouldn’t know the difference between me and Margot Robbie at that moment.” Tommy grumbles.

“Dude, that’s flattering yourself” Sal scoffs at the same time Vivie pipes ‘Who’s Margot Robbie?!’, and Tommy very maturely chooses to ignore both of them. But he should have known there’s no stopping his determined little matchmaker. 

“Daddy, but you’re going, right? What if he wasn’t being silly? You could go out with him, and you could be friends!” She says, and Tommy is pretty sure Genevieve doesn’t really know what asking someone out entails. 

“Yeah, Tommy, you could be… friends. With Buckley. I can tell you want to.” Sal says, and Tommy internally thinks he’s having way too much fun with it. “Besides, can you really disappoint Vivie and not take her card to him? Are you really gonna do this to your daughter?”

Tommy opens his mouth, but nothing comes out, because he’s either going to break his daughter’s heart or teach her the words ‘son of a bitch’, and he’s not looking forward to it. So he closes it again, looks down at the card clutched in his hands, and sighs, realizing he doesn’t really have a choice. 

“Please, Daddy?” Vivie pleads, and Tommy already knows he’ll say yes. He’s a sucker for those puppy eyes. 

“Genevieve, I… Fine.” Tommy accepts, but he doesn’t want to set her up for disappointment, so he kneels down to her level and looks her in the eyes. “I’ll go over to his house and I’ll take your card, but I don’t know about the whole asking him out part. But I promise you’ll be the first to know how it went, okay?”

Vivie smiles brightly, throwing her arms around his neck, and Tommy hugs her with a chuckle. She’s the love of his life, this little girl, and yeah, he’ll take a few awkward moments to make sure her gratitude is relayed to Evan Buckley. 

But he absolutely won’t ask the man out. He still has some self-respect. 

-----

Evan Buckley is an overthinker; he’s known that fact about himself all his life, but knowing it doesn’t mean he’s able to control it. So, it’s a given that he’ll overthink the things he said to Tommy Kinard on the day of the tsunami and that Chim had, very kindly, told him in excruciating detail when Buck said he didn’t remember it the next day.

Apparently. Buck had called Tommy gorgeous (ridiculously gorgeous, according to Chim, who was having way too much fun with it). Which gives him the slightest pause because, yes, he’s always been an ally, and yes, he’s always been able to appreciate a hot guy’s ass, but that’s normal, isn’t it? He had never thought of himself as being attracted to guys before. 

And yet, he had asked the guy out. More accurately, he had implied Tommy should ask him out as thank you for doing the decent thing and rescuing his daughter. And to top it all off, he had said it in front of said daughter. 

Buck supposes his only saving grace is that he doesn’t have to see Tommy again. Eddie told him there’s been some number exchange because Chris and Genevieve wanted to see each other again, but that doesn’t mean Buck needs to be around for it. No, Tommy Kinard has no business being in Buck’s life (and Buck tries to ignore the disappointment that thought brings him). 

As he hears someone knocking, Buck figures it must be Eddie asking him to babysit again, so he tries to push away any thoughts of the so-called hot pilot. 

Buck opens the door to find Tommy Kinard on the other side. 

“Uh… H-hey, hey, Tommy.” Buck says, and tries not to flinch at how idiotic he sounds. 

There’s one point in which Buck has to agree with his painkiller-brain: the man is ridiculously gorgeous. He’s wearing a black henley, and there’s a bit of stubble on his cheeks, and he has a cleft. Tommy’s looking at Buck as if he’s a little shy himself, which Buck finds ridiculous, because a man like that has no reason to be shy, ever. 

“Can we talk?” Tommy asks, and Buck gulps. 

Oh, God, he thinks. He’s going to tell me how completely inappropriate I was and that he doesn’t want me anywhere near his daughter. 

“S-sure!”, Buck says, the cheer in his voice embarrassingly fake. “Come on in.”

He lets Tommy inside his house, and the man takes an appreciative look around before gazing back at Buck, smiling at him. He has a crunchy sort of smile that makes Buck’s stomach twist inside of him, and he’s starting to think he might be a little more than an ally. 

“Can I offer you anything?”, Buck offers, trying to ignore how sweaty his hands are and how fast his heart is beating inside his chest.“

“No, thanks, I’m not staying long. I’m actually here as a mail man”, Tommy says, and when Buck frowns at him, he chuckles, obviously amused by something. “I was given strict orders to deliver you this.”

He offers Buck a blue piece of paper, shaped like a card. Buck takes it curiously from his hand, an unhealthy amount of glitter slipping from his fingers, and his heart gets all warm when he sees the words ‘TO: MR. EVAN, FROM: GENEVIEVE’ on the card. He opens it to find a quite heartwarming picture of the two of them, and he’s smiling before he can stop himself. That little girl has a piece of his heart, he’s not shy to admit it. 

“Oh my God, that is so sweet”, he marvels, chuckling in delight and shaking his head, holding the card close to his chest. Apparently Tommy doesn’t want to tell Buck to stay the hell away from him and his daughter, so he feels more relieved. “She… she really didn’t have to.”

“Well, that’s Vivie for you”, Tommy says, and it takes Buck aback how much affection he can hear in his voice when he talks about his daughter. “She always wants people to feel loved.”

“She’s a great kid”, Buck says sincerely, placing the card on his counter with a small smile on his face, and he looks back at Tommy to see a soft smile on his face too. 

Buck realizes that, theoretically, Tommy has nothing else to do in his house. But he’s not moving to leave, and Buck is in no rush either. He likes having this man around; he wants to get to know him better, without missing children or painkillers being involved.

“H-how’s she doing, by the way?” He asks, trying desperately to find a way to keep Tommy for at least a little bit more. “A-and your friend Sal?”

“They’re good!” Tommy exclaims, the relief palpable in his voice. “Sal’s recovering, and Vivie… Well, she’s perfect, thanks to you. Evan, I really don’t think I can put into words how grateful I am.”

He’s looking deeply in Buck’s eyes, and Buck can’t breathe all of a sudden. His gaze is piercing, and it’s making Buck have a hard time thinking. It takes him longer than normal to realize he should answer Tommy. 

“I…” He trails off, and crosses his arms on his chest, trying to ground himself. He feels so light-headed it’s ridiculous. “You really don’t have to thank me, Tommy. I’m just glad everything turned out okay.”

Tommy nods, his soft smile gracing his features once more, and then he frowns worriedly at Buck. 

“And how are you doing? How's your leg?” He asks, and his concern sounds absolutely genuine, which makes Buck feel all tingly. 

“Ah, it’s… It’s alright, I just gotta take it easy for a couple days. I’m under Hen’s strict orders.” Buck chuckles, and Tommy nods in sympathy, which reminds Buck this man knows all of his friends. In fact, it seems almost funny that they had never met before. 

“Good. I’m glad you’re taking it easy, cause… You weren’t doing that great last time I saw you”, he says, and Buck wants to flinch in embarrassment, imagining how he must have looked to Tommy, fainting like a Victorian lady as soon as they met. But then Tommy smiles, a little teasing this time. “Though you still managed to realize I am ‘ridiculously gorgeous’, so I suppose you weren’t so out of it”

The teasing catches Buck completely off-guard, and he blushes all the way from his forehead to his nose. Shit, he remembers, he thinks, and then wants to kick himself because of course Tommy remembers, Buck is the one who was out of it, not him. 

“Oh, God, yeah”, Buck says, and makes a weird sound that’s something between a laugh and a scoff. He rubs the back of his neck and wonders if it’d be too dramatic to jump from his loft window to escape this conversation. “I am sorry about that, by the way. Probably not what you needed when your daughter had just been rescued from a natural disaster.”

Tommy chuckles politely at that, and Buck’s relieved that at least he doesn’t seem offended. He gives Buck a light shrug, getting a little closer to him, the teasing smile never leaving his face. 

“No, don’t apologize, it was very flattering! No one had ever called me a hot pilot before” He says, unlocking another piece of what’s shaping up to be Buck’s most embarrassing memory, and he laughs a bit hysterically. He takes a step closer to Tommy, as if drawn by an invisible magnet. 

“Well, you are. A hot pilot, I mean.” He blurts out, and widens his eyes when he realizes what he said. For some “N-not that I’m objectifying pilots or anything, I didn’t even know you were a pilot until that day, and there are probably better ways to tell someone you’re attracted to th-”

Buck doesn’t get to finish his sentence; it all happens in a blur. Tommy gets closer, feels two fingers raising up his chin, and next thing he knows, Tommy’s lips are touching his, and oh. 

There are fireworks exploding in Buck’s head; it’s like something is unleashing inside of him, a part of him that had remained hidden until now, a bit of himself that needed Tommy Kinard to be let out. Buck kisses him back, placing his hand on Tommy’s shoulder, reveling in how right this kiss feels, in the wonderful feeling of Tommy’s lips against his.

It’s over much sooner than Buck would have liked; it could have lasted forever for as long as he’s concerned. His world could have been reduced to kissing Tommy Kinard, and he’d been happy with it. But now Tommy Kinard is looking at him, as if he’s a little surprised with himself, and Buck can only imagine how shocked his face looks right now. 

“Like that?” Tommy asks, and he sounds a little out of breath. 

“Y-yeah, that works” Buck stutters, his voice more high-pitched than usual, his eyes impossibly wide, but he wants more. 

“So that was okay?” Tommy asks, and somewhere in the back of Buck’s mind it registers how sweet of him to be making sure. It makes Buck want to kiss him again. 

“B-better than asking someone out in a painkiller-induced haze.” He answers dazedly, and Tommy chuckles adorably, his posture more confident once he’s sure his kiss was well-received, as if Buck’s enthusiastic kissing back hadn’t been proof enough. 

“Well, I promise there are no painkillers in my system right now”, he says, and then honest to God straightens Buck’s shirt, and Buck’s pretty sure he’ll never be able to form a coherent thought again. “But I still would like to ask you out. And not even as a thank you for saving my daughter, it’s because you’re really cute.”

Buck smiles despite himself, blushing like a schoolgirl at being called cute of all things. He nods emphatically, looking down at where Tommy’s hand still lingers on his shirt, warm and heavy against his chest. 

“I… I’d like that”, he admits, and Tommy’s smile widens impossibly. 

“Great. How about Saturday? Are you free?” He asks, and Buck lets out a deep breath he hasn’t even realized he was holding, God knows for how long. 

“Yes, I… I am free” Buck answers, and he realizes he doesn’t mean just about Saturday. 

“Okay, so… I’ll pick you up around eight? Does that work?” He asks, and Buck realizes he probably should answer more coherently, but all he manages is another weak nod. 

“T-totally” He tries again, and Tommy makes finger guns at him, and Buck’s just agreed to go out with this dork. 

“So… see you Saturday?” Tommy confirms, and Buck realizes that he’s also a little nervous. That somehow eases Buck’s nerves, and he manages to smile even a little flirtatiously at Tommy. 

“Absolutely. D-do you want my number so we can set things up or?...” He asks, and Tommy surprisingly shakes his head, chuckling. 

“No need, Chimney already gave it to me.” He tells him, and Buck has never been more grateful for the existence of Howard Han. 

“So we’re all set. S-say hi to Vivie for me?” Buck says, and Tommy smiles, already halfway out the door. Buck has to resist the urge to call him back. 

“Will do. Bye, Evan.” Tommy says, and just as he came, he’s gone, as if he hasn’t just upended Buck’s life and brought him all sorts of discoveries about himself. 

Buck throws himself on his couch, and a huge smile comes to his face. This is the happiest he’s felt since the fire truck accident, and no wonder. He may not have his job back yet, and things might take a while to get better, but… He has a date with Tommy Kinard. How can he be upset?

----

Tag list:

@bidisasterevankinard @unhingedangstaddict @silversky9 @music-is-the-voice-of-the-soul @asmugfirefighter

@typicalopposite @aplaceinme @rubydaiquiri @racerchix21

@dearqueend @laundryandtaxesworld @buckleyskinards @actuallyitsellie

@agentpeggycartering @chaoticdisasterbi

@deelovesbooks @teabroomsandbooks

[haechansunshineboy]

*:・ﾟ✧. *:・ﾟ✧.

*:・ﾟ✧. *:・ﾟ✧.

“I need your help.” You say simply.

Jeno climbs into the dugout, taking a seat next to you on the cool metal bench. He recognizes you as a pretty popular up-and-coming singer but not much more than that.

What exactly you were doing here at the baseball stadium? Certainly not to learn some tips on how to throw the ball from the team’s star player.

“Help from me? For what?” Jeno asks, imploring you to continue.

You cross your leg, one over the other, and take a sip of your coffee cup, your sparkling nails covering the logo of Jeno’s team.

“My boyfriend cheated on me and I want to get revenge.” You’re staring at the now lipstick stained spot on the lid of your cup, avoiding eye contact with the baseball player. “Or I guess I should say my ex now.” You bitterly correct yourself.

Jeno briefly recalls hearing something on a news about you dating some kind of actor from a big franchise. Without thinking he puts a hand on your back, gently rubbing circles with his palm.

“I’m sorry that happened to you” Jeno murmurs.

The mental images of you returning home that night to find your ex caught in the act, the missed phone calls and apology texts, the snubs from the other woman, came flooding into your mind again.

The pain still left a sting in your heart.

You let out a deep sigh to push down those thoughts and finally look Jeno in the eye, a fierce look of determination on your face.

“That’s where you come in, Jeno Lee. I want you to, well, fake-date me.”

Jeno looks a little taken aback, which makes sense to you. It was certainly an odd request from someone who he just met.

“Look,” you go on to explain, “I need to look like I’m moving on, and you could use more media presence for the team, plus a pretty girl like me and a hot athlete like you would get so much attention!”

You weren’t wrong. More press for the team would be really helpful for the season (and maybe hearing you call him hot made him a little flustered.)

“We can even set up an arrangement with my team,” you’re babbling on when you notice Jeno isn’t responding “-and it doesn’t have to be too public, just get caught on a few dates-”

“Slow down princess, I get the picture.” Jeno interjects, raising his hands in defense.

Jeno sees your face morph into a sad puppy look and he feels bad. “Look I understand the situation but I’d have to think this over.”

He doesn’t know how you could look even sadder after what he said and quickly replies “I promise I’ll think about it but please give me some time!”

At least this gives you a little hope and you give a little nod.

You stand up from the bleachers and fish out a card with your number on it from your purse.

“Just in case you change your mind.” You give another curt nod before heading towards the small steps to exit the dugout.

“Why me?” Jeno blurts out without thinking, making you stop in your tracks and turn on your heels.

“Because,” your lips form into a smirk, “you’re his favorite.”

*:・ﾟ✧. *:・ﾟ✧.

[vigilxntesht]

𝙠𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝙨𝙖𝙚 𝙗𝙮𝙚𝙤𝙠 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 — a sip of fate (part 2)

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ 𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 — kang sae-byeok x f!reader

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 — 2k

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 — part 1 here! this was requested by @lyzem

𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙚

you tell yourself it’s just a casual meet-up, not a real date. but as you steal glances at the door, waiting for her to show up, your heart betrays you. whether you admit it or not, this feels like the start of something different—something that matters.

you wake up with an unusual lightness in your chest. it’s tuesday. the day of your… well, date. if you can even call it that. you shake your head, heat creeping into your face as you rush through your morning routine. there’s no point in overthinking it. you’re just meeting up with a customer—one who happens to be unfairly gorgeous, frustratingly mysterious, and possibly interested in you. maybe.

by the time you arrive at the coffee shop, the usual morning rush is in full swing. you slip into your routine with ease, taking orders, steaming milk, and pouring hot shots of espresso. but no matter how busy you keep yourself, your mind drifts back to one thing—one person.

sae-byeok.

she said she’d come back today. she promised.

the hours drag on, each moment stretching painfully long. you keep glancing at the door, waiting for the familiar jingle of the bell, but every time, it’s someone else: a regular, a group of students, an elderly couple. not her.

by noon, doubt begins to creep in. maybe she changed her mind. maybe she was just being polite. maybe—

the bell chimes.

you turn, heart beating out of your chest.

and there she is.

sae-byeok steps inside, dressed in dark jeans and an oversized hoodie, her hands stuffed tightly into her pockets. her gaze flicks around the shop before landing on you, and for a second, neither of you move. the corners of her lips twitch ever so slightly—acknowledgment, familiarity.

you quickly shake off your nerves, plastering on a casual smile as you approach the counter.

“let me guess,” you say, tilting your head. “iced americano. no sugar.”

she exhales softly—almost a laugh—and nods. “you learn fast.”

you chuckle, reaching for a cup. “what can i say? i’m a quick study.”

as you prepare her drink, you feel her eyes on you. unlike yesterday, she doesn’t look away when you glance back. instead, she holds your gaze, studying you with that same quiet intensity. it makes your pulse race, but you force yourself to focus, carefully adding ice to her cup before handing it over.

sae-byeok takes it, fingers brushing against yours for the briefest moment. it’s nothing—just an accident, just skin against skin—but somehow, it sends a shiver down your spine.

she lingers by the counter, doesn’t leave like yesterday. instead, she hesitantly shifts her weight.

“i, um…” she starts, then clears her throat. “are you still free after your shift?”

your heart stutters.

she remembered.

you nod, trying to hide the grin creeping up your face. “yeah. i get off at four.”

she looks satisfied with that answer, giving a small nod.

“i’ll wait.”

when you don’t respond right away, her cheeks flush. “i mean, um, only if you want to. i wouldn’t want to, like, force you or…. yeah.”

your eyes widen as you quickly shake your head.

“no, no! i do want to! sorry, i was just—uh—thinking.”

and just like that, she moves to her usual spot by the window, settling in with her drink.

the rest of your shift is torture. not because of the work, no, that part is fine. it’s because every time you glance over, she’s there. sitting quietly, sipping her drink, her presence impossibly distracting.

finally—finally—four o’clock arrives. you clock out in record time, tossing your apron aside before making your way over to her table.

“ready to go?” you ask, voice a little breathless.

she looks up at you, eyes scanning your face as if searching for something. then, slowly, she stands. “yeah.”

the two of you step outside, the crisp afternoon air wrapping around you. for a moment, there’s silence. neither of you seem to know what to say, but surprisingly, it’s not awkward. it’s… comfortable.

sae-byeok gestures toward the sidewalk. “um, there’s a park nearby.”

you nod in approval. “sounds nice.”

as you start walking together, your steps naturally fall into sync. the tension from your first meeting has softened, replaced by something lighter, easier. and as the sun begins to dip below the horizon, casting the world in it’s golden glow, you realize something:

this isn’t just a date.

it’s the beginning of something more.

the walk to the park is quiet, but not in an awkward way. every so often, you steal a glance at the girl next to you, watching as the golden evening light catches in her dark hair and highlights the freckles dusted across her cheeks. she seems lost in thought, eyes fixed ahead, hands stuffed into the pockets of her hoodie.

you wonder if she���s nervous. you definitely are.

when you finally reach the park, it’s peaceful—mostly empty, aside from a few people walking their dogs or jogging along the gravel paths. the air is cool, tinged with the scent of grass and the distant aroma of street food from a nearby restaurant.

she slows her pace, tilting her head slightly. “want to sit?”

you nod, following her over to a bench beneath a large oak tree. the branches stretch high above, leaves rustling calmingly in the breeze. she sits first, and for a second, you hesitate before taking place beside her. close enough to feel the warmth of her presence, but not quite touching.

a beat of silence passes.

then, she exhales, shifting slightly. “so… do you always ask customers on dates, or am i just special?”

you blink, caught completely off guard. heat rushes to your face as you let out an awkward laugh. “what? no! i mean, you are special! but, uh, i don’t usually—” you stop yourself, cringing at your own fumbling. “god, that was such a bad answer.”

to your relief, she lets out a soft chuckle, barely audible, but there. when you glance over, you catch the faintest trace of amusement tugging at the corner of her lips.

“i was just messing with you,” she says, voice quieter now. “you’re easy to fluster.”

you groan, covering your face with your hands. “yeah, yeah, laugh it up.”

and then, she actually does laugh. it’s short, almost hesitant, like she’s not used to doing it. but it’s real. the sound is soft, airy—enough to make your heart stutter in your chest.

when you lower your hands, she’s watching you. her expression is unreadable, but her gaze lingers, eyes flickering across your face like she’s memorizing every detail. it makes you nervous. makes you feel seen in a way you’re not sure you’ve ever been before.

you clear your throat, looking away.

“so, uh… what do you do? besides intimidating baristas with intense eye contact?”

sae-byeok hums, leaning back against the cold bench. “i work. a lot.”

you nod, waiting for her to continue. when she doesn’t, you press.

“doing what?”

she hesitates, fingers curling around the fabric of her hoodie. then, with a small shrug, she says, “whatever pays.”

there’s something guarded in the way she says it, like she’s holding something back. that’s when you notice that she even seems a little embarrassed, so you don’t push. instead, you offer a small smile. “sounds tiring.”

she exhales through her nose. “it is.”

a comfortable silence settles between you again. the sky above fades into a soft blend of pink and orange, the sun lowering with every passing minute.

then, suddenly, she speaks. “and you?”

you blink, caught off guard. “me?”

she nods. “what do you do? other than making iced americanos and—” she pauses, a teasing glint in her eyes. “…staring at customers like they’re some kind of unsolvable puzzle.”

your face burns. “i was not staring.”

she rises her eyebrows doubtfully and you surrender. “okay, maybe i was staring.”

she turns to look at you, an amused sparkle in her eyes. “why?”

you open your mouth, then close it again, scrambling for an answer that doesn’t make you sound ridiculous. “i don’t know,” you admit, fidgeting with your hair. “you just… looked really pretty in the sunlight.”

she freezes.

you almost don’t notice, but when you do, panic bubbles up your chest. was that too much? too soon?

but before you can backtrack, she shifts, looking down at her shoes. “oh.”

just that. one small word, barely audible. but in the dim light, you catch it—the faint pink dusting her cheeks, the way she bites the inside of her cheek like she’s trying not to smile.

your heart stumbles over itself.

a few minutes later, she speaks again—quieter this time.

“i liked it.”

you frown. “um, liked what?”

she exhales, shaking her head like she can’t believe she’s saying this. “what you said. about the sunlight.”

a relieved warmth spreads through your chest. you try to fight the smile tugging at your lips but fail miserably.

“good,” you say softly. “because i meant it.”

she doesn’t respond. not verbally, at least. but her hand drifts slightly, brushing against yours as you sit there. and this time, she doesn’t pull away.

the sun has almost completely set by the time you and sae-byeok make your way back toward the entrance of the park. the air is colder now and the streetlights are beginning to flicker on.

neither of you seem eager to leave.

you walk a little slower, letting the last moments of the evening stretch out just a bit longer. every now and then, your hands brush, but neither of you acknowledge it. it’s comfortable, this quiet space between you—something unspoken but understood.

when you finally reach the sidewalk, you hesitate, turning to face her. “so…” you start, rocking on your heels. “this was nice.”

she nods, wrapping her arms around her waist. “yeah.” there’s a pause, and then, softer, “i had a good time.”

your heart does a backflip. “me too.”

for a second, it looks like she wants to say something else, but instead, she glances down and bites her lip.

the soft glow of the streetlights catches on her dark eyes, making them stand out even more, and you suddenly feel so fond of the girl in front of you that it’s almost laughable.

before you can stop yourself, you speak.

“would you… want to do this again?”

her eyes flick up to yours, surprised—but not in a bad way. a small, almost shy smile appears on her lips. “yeah. i would.”

you grin, warmth blooming in your chest. “cool. um, great. that’s… yeah.” you let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head at yourself. “sorry, i’m terrible at this.”

she huffs out a quiet laugh. “me too.”

you stand there for another moment, neither of you quite ready to walk away. but eventually, she shifts. she takes a small step back, though she seems disappointed about having to do it.

“i should get going.”

you nod, even though you don’t want the night to end. “right. yeah. me too.”

she hesitates, just for a second, then glances around as if checking for anyone nearby. when she’s sure you’re alone, she leans in just slightly, close enough that you can feel the warmth of her presence. her thumb brushes over your cheek gently. it’s not a kiss, not even a hug: just something quiet and intimate, like a secret meant only for you.

then, with one last look—one that lingers just a little too long—she turns and starts walking away.

you watch her go, your heart thudding in your chest, and just before she disappears around the corner, she glances back. it’s quick. barely a second. but it’s enough.

as you finally turn to leave, a huge, unstoppable smile spreads across your face.

yeah.

you’re definitely seeing her again.

[potatoesenpaii]

Hi friend: dealers choice!! Eddie or Gareth taking care of you while sick??🤒 love you!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Eddie ;

When he received a call from your mother warning him that you would not assist your usual saturday night date...He got worried. Eddie was not unfamiliar with sickness, he did lived in poverty pretty much all his life, so he would catch every unimaginable sickness known to men when cold hit.

But seeing you with a disheveled shirt and a pair of boxers, snoring face first in your pillow he...wanted to laugh so hard. Your mother warned him your fever was close to be ER worth, so he offered to spend the rest of the weekend by your side to make sure it wouldn't happen.

He tried to shift you to lay on your back, alas his body fell forward and face first in the mattress close to your right side. He was absolutely ridicule and guess that was karma for laughing at you when he came in.

His grunt make you wake up, trying to sit up to be blocked by the body of your boyfriend's over you in his weird position.

"Baby?" You grumbled in a yawn with blurred eyes.

"Yeah?" Eddie said muffled as he sat himself back to something normal.

"What are you doing?" You ask, instantly going to bury your warm body against his.

"Caring for you" He said, hoping you wouldn't ask about how he was placed....

"With your face in my mattress?" You raised you head just to be shushed back to lay it on his chest.

"Thought it would be more comfortable" he said innocently, trying to pass his mistake for nothing.

"Uh-uh.." You snorted while pulling on his shirt.

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Gareth ;

Moment he got the call? He was already by your side. Well at your door, with you opening it wide opened and being confused how he showed up under ten minutes when you lived fifteen minutes away from Hawkins.

"That was.." You started, to be cut short as his hand feeling your forehead.

"Fast, yeah i know." He closed the door with a small kick before leading you back to your bedroom.

"You know I'm not dying, right?" You whined while letting him guide you back to your bed.

"Might as well be if you're acting like a baby" He smiled while forcing your shoulders down to sit at the edge of your bed.

"You didn't have to come" You hummed, letting your body fall back on the bed.

"Are you joking? Is this a joke?" He asked while trying to find your warmest pyjama's since you didn't bothered to wear anything else but shorts and a large shirt.

"Garebear" You whispered softly, snapping him out of his anxiety and turning his head to your form with open arms waiting for him to just come cuddle.

He didn't really hesitate to let himself fall into your arms, making you make a oof "I hate when you're sick"

"I hate being sick too, love" You sighed, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head.

"Is it okay if i spend the night?" He asked muffled into your shoulder.

"You don't want Eddie to drive you again?" You stiffled a laugh, guessing that's how he got to you so fast.

"...Maybe I just want to make sure you'll be okay tomorrow?...Okay fine, i don't want Eddie to drive me again" You laughed at the way he practically whined it.

"You can stay the night" You chuckled while resting your eyes for a bit.

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